Hi everyone! I am sooooo sorry that I've been so AWOL recently, things are just getting on top of me! But I managed to find time to write this short chapter! Things are getting interesting now! I hope you all like it and aren't too mad at me for the impromptu hiatus! Thank you!

Haymitch

The kids and I arrive home from the Victory Tour, and I could sense that all of us were glad to be home. We now had just six months to rest up and prepare for the Quarter Quell, which was swiftly closing in on us. It would be Katniss and Peeta's first Games as mentors, and Quells were always more excitable than most. I wondered if the kids would be able to handle it. That was why I made the decision to go with them this time, to help them out and show them what to do.

The time at home, however, proves fraught with troubles. First, there's the whipping. Gale Hawthorne, whom is now Katniss' "cousin", was whipped in the Square. Katniss had launched herself in to protect her friend and ended up getting a lash on her face. I had to pretend to go crazy at the Peacekeeper for marring her looks before her big photo shoot, when all I really cared about was whether the girl was okay.

Then there was the actual photo shoot. I'd had it pushed back a few months to allow for Katniss' wound to heal and for the whole whipping mess to blow over, but the Capitolites descended on us sooner than I had expected.

I was sitting in my living room, watching the mindless waffle on television, when I heard the familiar click-clack of heels on my porch. I sighed, but inside, my heart skipped a beat at the prospect of Effie being outside my door.

And she was. When I opened the door, she was there, looking her usual self in her eccentric garb.

"Effie." I say, formally.

"Haymitch. It's good to see you again." She's all formal and composed too, like nothing had happened at the Victory Tour, or over the past few years, in fact.

"Yeah, whatever. You want to go over the plans then?" I say, motioning for her to come in.

Over the next hour, while I assume that Katniss is being worked on by her stylists, Effie tells me the plans for the day. Katniss is to model her dresses, and then they will leave. They have no time to stick around, according to Effie, because the stylists need to work on their costumes for the Quell, and Effie is needed back in the Capitol to go over business of her own. I'm glad that they won't be here for very long; it's a relief to be away from the Capitol, and having Effie and the styling teams here only frustrates me.

The day goes by quickly, and eventually, I'm saying goodbye to Effie and the others. As I pull away from hugging Effie; one of the most awkward hugs we've ever had; she opens her mouth as if to say something, but then thinks the better of it and moves on quickly.

Once they leave, things return to normal. Well, as normal as they can be with two teenagers who are supposed to be in love, but actually aren't, living next door to you. They've been through so much together, but she's too stubborn to admit her feelings, and he is so open about his feelings that he ended up getting hurt. It was frustrating at times, but I had to make the most of it.

On the day of the Quell announcement, Katniss comes to update me on what she has heard. She tells me about Bonnie and Twill, the runaways from Eight, and what they told her about Thirteen. We discuss it, but it doesn't amount to much. She goes home to her family, and I wait tensely by the television, bottle in hand.

When seven-thirty rolls around, I am still in the same position, but through about three bottles. Katniss' photo shoot is shown, which explains why they were so hasty about leaving yesterday. They had to get the images to the Capitol as fast as they could, I supposed.

Once that was over, Snow came out to read the card. I sat tensely on the sofa, swigging, watching as that repulsive man took to the stage. I can almost smell the blood on his breath as he begins to speak.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that would represent it."

I couldn't imagine how that must have felt; to have to pick a child, to be that child that everyone picked. It must have been terrifying for the child.

"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

My year. My Games. I survived when the competition was double what it is every other year. I pushed memories of my Quell out of my mind, and focus on the screen in front of me.

"And now we honour our third Quarter Quell." He takes the card marked "75" from the box that the little boy is holding, and opens it. He faces the crowd and the cameras, and begins to speak once more.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

My heart stops and I almost choke on the alcohol that is in my mouth. No, this couldn't be.

Suddenly, the phone begins to ring, and in my heart I pray that it's Effie. But when I pick it up and grunt, I hear a different voice.

"Haymitch! They're lying, aren't they? This can't be happening!" Talia sobs, her voice shrill. I can hear a voice behind her, maybe her mother, telling her to calm down.

"I think it is, sweetheart." I mutter, rubbing my forehead. I can feel a headache coming on from the booze and from Talia's screams.

"But I can't go in again! And I can't let Cecelia go in instead of me! We'll have to kill each other, Haymitch!" Her voice gets louder as she goes on, and I pull the phone away from my ear a bit.

"I know, kid. But there's nothing I can do. You or I might be going in." There's nothing I can say to comfort her; the inevitability of one of us going in was too blatant.

"I know. I have to go. I'm sorry, Haymitch." She sniffed, and then hung up. I couldn't ponder why she went so quickly, however, because someone began pounding on my door.

I knew who it was instantly. Peeta. And I knew what he was about to ask. I sighed, and went to open the door to my apparent saviour.

Effie

"No!" I shout as President Snow ends his speech. I clap my hands over my mouth, but the damage is done.

"Darling, what's the matter?" Mother says, patting my leg.

I take a deep breath, thinking of a good excuse that my mother will buy.

"I love those kids, Mother! The thought of having to watch them die is just too much." I pretend to break down, and my mother wraps her arms around me.

Inside, however, all I'm thinking of is Haymitch. What if I draw his name from the bowl, and he dies because of it? He's not strong enough anymore. Maybe he was when I was a child, but now his body is an alcohol-induced waste. He wouldn't make it out of the arena alive, not when there were many younger, fitter competitors. He'd surely die if he were thrown back into the arena.

I didn't want him to die, not now, not because of the Capitol's need for vengeance.

And what about…

"It's okay, darling. They're only district people, they don't really mean anything." Mother said, rubbing my back. As much as I hated what she just said, I had to pretend to agree.

"Yes, I shouldn't be worrying about them! I should be worrying about all the arrangements that I'll have to make." I disentangle myself from Mother and walk over to my handbag.

I want to call Haymitch more than ever, but I know that my call will be monitored. I couldn't tell Haymitch what I wanted to tell him; about how much I really did love him, about how I was just scared that night, about how I wanted to be with him over the Victory Tour, about our…

"Good, Effervescent, you should busy yourself with the arrangements. That'll keep your mind off it. And anyway, this Quell will be the best ever! Maybe you'll even get to see your childhood crush compete again?" She laughed, obviously remembering my infatuation with Haymitch when I was younger.

"Maybe!" I trilled, digging around my handbag for my phone. I knew that I should meet with Cinna and Portia, right away. We needed to discuss this, immediately.

I dialled Cinna's number, and waited for him to pick up.

"I'm coming over. Get Portia too." I said.
"I think that's best." Cinna said, and then hung up the phone.

I got most of my things together, told Mother where I was going, and then left. As I did so, I heard her shout, "I'll look after…" And then the door shut behind me. I knew she would anyway.

Haymitch

Katniss staggers out of my house, drunk from all the alcohol that I let her have. Maybe I shouldn't have let her have so much, but I figured that the kid needed it, after what she now knew she had to go through.

Between the three of us, we had made some sort of plan. Since Katniss was definitely going in, Peeta wanted me to let him go in to protect her. It would mean that I could stay out of the arena, which was a plus for me, but the thought of letting young Peeta, who had his whole life ahead of him, go into the arena, where he would surely die, in my place was unbearable to think about. Yes, he could try and protect Katniss, but he had no real experience in the arena. He only won because of Katniss' cunning. If he went in again, he would surely die. I, on the other hand, could protect Katniss. Although my body wasn't in the best shape, I could train. I knew my way in the arena. I knew the games that the Capitol could play. I could help her win; I could protect her and then die for her. She was the spark, I had to keep the spark alive.

But Peeta wanted to go in so badly, and if I let him go in, I could help them from the outside. Peeta had no idea what to do with the sponsors or the Gamemakers; and I could play up the star-crossed lovers angle even more to get them sponsors.

However, Katniss wanted me to help Peeta, seeing as I sided with her last year. I had agreed to that one reluctantly. Peeta couldn't be the symbol that we needed, only Katniss could fill that very selective spot. However, I had promised, so I should keep my promises, right?

So I would let Peeta go in for me, like I promised him, and I would help him to win, like I had promised Katniss. But there was nothing wrong with me helping her too, right?

Suddenly, an idea struck me. I staggered to my feet, pulling paper and a pen to the table and sat down at my table. I wrote a letter to Plutarch in such a cryptic fashion that any Capitol guard would have trouble reading it. And anyway, they wouldn't dare open the Head Gamemaker's mail, would they?

It wasn't particularly coherent, but I knew that Plutarch would understand what I meant. We needed a way to break the Victors out of the arena. If I could find a way to get Katniss and Peeta out alive, plus other Victors that could contribute to the rebellion, then we needed to use it. That way, not all of the Victors would have to die so brutally in the Quell.

I put the letter in an envelope and tucked it away in a drawer; ready to be sent tomorrow when I went to town to buy more liquor. I would need all the alcohol I could get over the next few months.

I threw myself down in bed, and ended up thinking of Effie. How would she have reacted to the announcement? Is she happy about it, like most of the Capitol surely is? Or is she worried about the kids and I? I hoped that she felt the latter; if only for the kids. If only I could see her again; if only to tell her how much I cared for her. I didn't need her to care about me in return, just for her to know of my affections. She may be a part of something I truly despised, but I knew that she despised it too.

The thought of me living while Katniss and Peeta fought for their lives again made me physically sick, but I knew that it was what Peeta wanted, and partially what Katniss wanted. I could help them better outside of the arena, by getting sponsors and arranging gifts. It was what I knew how to do.

As I drunk myself into another stupor, this time it was for a purpose. To drive out the terrifying images of the two kids that I had grown to love fighting for their lives again. To drive out the image of Effie's face as she called my name for the entire world to hear. To drive out the pain that I felt as I watched those I cared about and were friends with die brutally again. It was all too much.

Eventually, I couldn't feel or think about anything, and I thumped my head down onto the table, drifting off into a deep slumber. Tomorrow would be a challenge, I had to be ready for it.

Was it worth the wait? Maybe? If it was, please leave a review, it would mean so much to me! Thank you for reading! :)