3.

"Careful. Careful. Careful!" Haymitch was ready to tear his hair off his head. He grabbed the back of the bench seat to steady himself as the car rushed on the deserted road of the back country. He had finally given up to the woman's request and relinquished the wheel, intending to take a short nap. She was something else, that girl. Equal part irritating and funny. And hugging him? Really? Like he would have left her to be eaten by zombies in the middle of nowhere anyway. Well… He might have. But her big sad blue eyes convinced him otherwise.

He would find her a good car and send her on her merry way. After they found a store and she got rid of that sparkly thing she called a dress. She didn't stand a chance in that thing. He would teach her a few 'survive the apocalypse' tricks and then they would part ways and that would be for the best. Haymitch wasn't a people person.

He saw the sharp bend but she was driving so fast he barely had time to fasten his seatbelt, sure they were going to crash. "Sweetheart, slow down." he ordered, cursing himself to hell and back for trusting her with his truck. As for his nap? It had been forgotten as soon as she had started the car. He would have thought she was a responsible driver, she looked like someone who would go at a grandma pace but she really wasn't. Haymitch liked speed, that wasn't a problem. But he liked speed when he was the one in control of the fucking car. "Effie!" he barked when, instead of slowing down, she pushed the car faster.

Her only answer was a laugh.

The second she had started the car she had been happier, carefree. It was nice to watch even though Haymitch wasn't a real fan of happy people.

He didn't close his eyes when she took the bend at full speed, forcing the car to do something he was sure was against the law of physics, he wanted to greet death with eyes wide open. But Death didn't come. They survived, the car survived, and she finally slowed down to a more reasonable pace, a smug smile on her lips.

"I can drive, sweetheart." she mocked him with a wink.

He had half a mind to throw her out. The other half of his mind was quickly making up a list of why it would be a Very Bad Idea – with capital letters – to kiss her. Her obvious madness was at the top of the list underlined three times, closely followed by the fact she wouldn't survive more than three minutes out there.

"I thought you were a model." he grumbled. "You double as a racing driver too?"

"I am a woman of many talents." she replied. "You can sleep now. I promise I won't crash your precious car."

He prayed for patience but still closed his eyes. He didn't fall asleep. He could never fall asleep without a much larger dose of alcohol but he did doze off a bit. It was nice not to worry about being attacked while he nodded off for a while. He was in that nice little place between awareness and sleep – where nightmares didn't have any hold but where you kind of forgot everything – when she tapped his shoulder uncertainly.

"There is a Walmart." Effie nodded to a big building lost on a lone road. "Should I enter the parking lot or…"

A store this size meant there was probably a town not far away and that meant zombies. "Yeah." he said. Time to get ready for a fight. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took two long swallows before discarding it. The parking lot counted ten abandoned cars. There was a lot of empty spaces, she could have parked anywhere. She neatly aligned the truck between two white lines. Probably bad manners to do otherwise even if she was the only driver in that part of the country… She cut off the engine and went for the door but Haymitch stopped her from getting out just yet. She looked at him in interrogation but he didn't say anything. He waited ten minutes and when he was sure no pack of undeads would fall on them, he finally nodded at her.

She seemed relieved to get out of the truck and stretch her legs. She wandered a few feet away and Haymitch barely contained his irritation. Really… How stupid was she? He grabbed a rifle from the back seat, enough ammos to make sure he could get out of there if needed be, and picked up a small handgun. He caught up with her quickly and handed her the handgun before she could get herself killed for lack of weapons to defend herself with.

"Oh." she said, surprised. "Thank you."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes. "Try not to aim at me. You see a zombie, you pull the trigger. You will probably be shit at it but at least I won't have your death on my conscience."

If glares could kill…

They were walking towards the entrance when he stopped next to a red pick-up that probably had seen better days but was still in good shape. It was zombie-free in any case.

"What do you say?" he asked her. "Fancy a red car?"

He wasn't a mechanic but he could probably get the engine to start again if it wasn't too busted. Effie didn't look too pleased at the prospect though. She shuffled her feet nervously.

"Would you mind it terribly if I stayed with you for a while?" She winced. "I mean… It's an awful time to be alone and… It would probably be safer if we stayed together. For a while."

"Safer for you." he pointed out. "More dangerous for me." Just the way she was letting the gun hang by the tips of her fingers was giving him chills. Arming her had been a mistake. She would either shoot herself in the foot or shoot him. "Look, sweetheart…"

"Please, Haymitch." she cut in softly. She looked at him with those big blue eyes of hers … "You did a lot for me and I'd loathe to ask for more but… Please. Until we find other people. I don't do well alone. I hate being lonely."

They looked at each other for a few minutes and Haymitch sighed. Damn those eyes of hers. He was so fucked-up. "You're really good at the kicked puppy face, aren't you ?"

She grinned, all sadness forgotten, and went for another overenthusiastic hug. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you! You won't regret it, you'll see! We will be the best of friends." He patted her back twice and then pushed her away.

"I don't need a best friend, Princess." he snorted. "We're not friends, don't make any mistake. You're just the clown crashing in my car." He pointed a warning finger at her. "And just for a while, get it? First group of people we meet, you're out of my truck."

"Yes, of course." she beamed. He wasn't sure she meant it but he didn't have time to warn her again. She was already gripping his arm tight and dragging him towards the store. "Let's go shopping now. I really need a hairbrush. And a toothbrush. Oh, and I do hope they will have some…" He stared at her, completely disbelieving, as she started listing everything she needed. He wasn't sure if the bubbly personality was an act or not. At times, she was snarky and seemed smart, at others she just looked oblivious to everything.

Her chatter died by itself as soon as they slipped in the Walmart through the broken windows. The silence, once inside, was eerie and set Haymitch on edge. The store was bigger than he would have liked.

"Okay." he whispered, touching her arm to get her attention. "First rule, whatever happens you don't panic. You panic, you're as good as dead. Use your head."

She nodded but she still looked a bit frightened. She needed to learn though. He wouldn't always be there to babysit her.

They crept along the aisles, some were knocked over, there was a foul smell in the air. He bet they would meet some unpleasant dead people before the end of the day. They finally found the clothes section. He put her in front of the selection of hiking clothes and grabbed two backpacks for himself.

"I'm going for food." he told her. "Get a change of clothes and grab a bag. I will meet you back here in ten minutes. Don't shoot me when I come back." He hesitated. "Be careful, sweetheart."

"You too." she mumbled absent-mindedly, already engrossed in the selection of clothes in front of her. Well… He thought, if she died, she would probably die happy at least. He couldn't help a tinge of worry as he moved away. He didn't care, he told himself. And maybe if he repeated it often enough, he would start to believe it.

He filled the first backpack with all the imperishable food he could take. Boxes of crackers, energy bars, some canned meat, jerky beef, whatever he found that looked good to go. He grabbed water bottles too and since he hadn't heard the woman scream yet, he went to check their alcohol stock. The aisle was full of delicious looking bottles of liquor. Karma, he decided, was sweet. Maybe that was how it worked. Help a girl, get alcohol.

Knowing he couldn't take everything, he focused on stocking up on whiskey, his poison of choice. He was contemplating taking some wine too when he heard the rasping for the first time. He made sure the safety was off the rifle and went investigating. He found the poor guy in the next aisle, crawling on the ground, dragging what was left of his legs behind him. The thing snarled as soon as he saw Haymitch.

"Sucks to be you." Haymitch said, not unsympathetically.

Usually he would go for a mercy kill but he was sure there were more zombies around and he didn't want to alarm them with a shotgun. He grabbed his bags and headed back to the clothes section. Effie wasn't where he had left her.

Of course she wasn't.

Fortunately, she wasn't hard to locate. She was three aisles over, inspecting a rack of leather jackets that had once probably been expensive. The sparkling golden dress was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, "Get a change of clothes" meant "please, sweetheart, get changed in a Walmart potentially full of zombies when there is no one to watch your back" in her mind.

"What happened to the hiking clothes?" he asked. Her new outfit was definitely not fit for fighting zombies or running from them. She was wearing tight dark blue jeans in which he was sure she wouldn't even be able to sit, brown leather boots with small square heels and a black tank top with an intricate laced back. She completed the whole thing with a red leather jacket. To better blend into the background probably. He was going to kill her if zombies didn't get to her first.

"They were hideous." she shrugged and then grinned and twirled for him to admire her new outfit. "What do you say? I know it isn't haute-couture but… it will have to do. The key is accessorizing." She waved at her hair, she had tied it in an intricate ponytail with a pin that looked like a butterfly.

The butterfly thing was ridiculous. As for the rest…

"You look hot." he admitted readily. "Let's hope that prevent you from freezing. You're not borrowing any more of my shirts."

"Please, Haymitch." She smiled. "I'm nothing but far-sighted." He really doubted that. And he doubted it even more when she showed him the four backpacks waiting at her feet. Four. "I planned for every type of weather."

"Never heard of traveling light?" He rolled his eyes. "There will be other stores, you know."

"First necessities only." she argued. "Two bags of clothes isn't excessive, really, Haymitch. The other bag is toiletry products. For me and for you. You could use a shave."

He opened and closed his mouth, counted to ten and then decided he wouldn't get irritated just yet. "That makes three. What's in the fourth?"

"Why, suitable clothes for you, obviously." she replied, eyeing him critically. "I plan on burning those pants you're wearing. It's almost a crime against fashion."

He ran a hand on his face and, this time, allowed himself to actually get irritated. "You do realize we're in the middle of an apocalypse, right, sweetheart?" he snapped, grabbing the first thing that he found in one of the square metallic rack. That happened to be hat. A Stetson to be precise. He put it on his head just to make a point. "We're not going to a fucking fashion show!"

"No need to be vulgar." she replied. "And not in that hat you certainly aren't."

He caught his reflection in one of the broken mirrors and decided he rather liked it. "Too bad, I'm keeping it."

He didn't have time to move before she snatched the cowboy hat from his head. She threw it back in the rack carelessly. "Over my dead body."

"Don't tempt me." he warned, taking a step closer and very much invading her personal space. Most women would have retreated but she just narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance.

"Be reasonable." she clucked her tongue. "Those pants have to go. I'm speaking as a friend, here."

"If you're so eager to take my pants off, you could have said so, Princess." he mocked. "I wouldn't dare refuse a lady."

She glared. "Fashion isn't a joke. The apocalypse is no excuse to let yourself go."

"Dress like a clown all you want." he shrugged. "I'm keeping my clothes." She didn't look like a clown anymore though. She had cleaned her face from the remnants of powder and smudged make-up at some point, she had even applied a new lighter make-up that rather suited her. But really… Playing dress up in the middle of a zombified store… "Fashion will kill you, sweetheart." he predicted. He rummaged through the hats and found a simple black woolen beanie. He put it over his hair and gave her a smirk.

She shook her head, looking dejected. "You are fashion-blind. It's really sad to see."

He was about to retort that she was the one wearing a ridiculous plastic butterfly in her hair when her eyes widened and she grabbed the gun she had tucked in her belt. He barely had time to step aside before she took the shot. The snarling and rasping he had been steadily ignoring stopped and the dead crawling zombie that had been following him from the liquor aisle didn't move anymore. It would have been hard to with his brain splattered all around the floor… Perfect shot, he noticed in the back of his mind, beginner luck.

"What the hell did you do that for?" he hissed, balancing the backpacks of food and alcohol on his back and readying his rifle.

"What do you mean what the hell did I do that for?" she replied, copying him and putting on backpack after backpack. She looked like a mule and she wouldn't go far. He grabbed the fourth one and pulled it over the ones he was already carrying, all the while glaring at her. "He was a zombie!" she shouted defensively. "I don't fancy becoming a zombie snack! Are you subscribing to the Zombie Defense League all of a sudden?"

"Less sass, more running." he grumbled, pushing her down the aisle. He could hear the noise already. Rattling, things falling on the ground, the shuffling of tired dead feet on the tile floor…

"Oh." she seemed to realize what the problem was and walked faster. "It's alright, they're slow." He didn't know who she wanted to convince, him or herself?

"The older ones are slow 'cause they're rotting corpses." he winced and nodded to the three dead corpses approaching rather quickly on their right. "Those ones? They're not that old." The rifle made an awful racket when he took his first shot.

"Well, you should have told me that earlier." she argued, taking down the second one while he was reloading. Between the eyes again.

"What are you now? Lara Croft?" he exclaimed, staring at her in puzzlement. "You said you didn't know how to shoot!"

She took down the next zombie and turned around to face him, arms folded on her chest. She was treating the gun a little too carelessly for his taste and he quickly pushed the barrel away from him.

"You assumed I didn't know how to shoot. Just like you assumed I didn't know how to drive properly." she snapped. "I suspect you are a misogynist."

Her eyes darted behind his shoulder and he immediately stepped aside to let her shoot. He took care of the two coming from the left. "Excuse me from thinking a girl dressed like a clown and obsessed with fashion wouldn't know how to handle a gun." he grumbled, reloading the rifle quickly. "My bad."

"Yes, it is." She glared daggers at him. "And you don't say "excuse me", you say "I would like to apologize"."

"In your dreams, sweetheart." he scoffed. They had managed to clear the path back to the entrance. He passed the broken window first and helped her out, steadying her by grabbing one of the backpack on her back. Not a good idea, they almost toppled and fell.

"It's proper to ask a woman to go first, you know." she commented, as they hurried to the truck.

"I hate you." he shot over the hood of the car. He quickly put the backpacks on the backseat, she did the same on the other side.

"No, you don't." she grinned, before getting inside the car. She slid along the bench seat until she was behind the wheel and he had no choice but to step around the car to get in the passenger seat before the zombies spilling out of the Walmart realized where the two walking pieces of meat had gone. "Admit it, you were bored before I came along."

He admitted nothing although she wasn't wrong. She was… lively. And he was a broody old man…

He took the beanie off his head and ruffled his hair as she drove them out of the parking lot and to the main road.

"Where did you learn to shoot?" he asked. Because she was good and he knew from experience you didn't get that good without training.

"Oh, I had to learn for a movie…" she explained. "We did some training but I didn't get the part in the end. The trainer said I was a natural. I didn't like it much."

"You're awfully good for someone who didn't like it much." he commented. "You're an actress too?"

How many things was she?

"No, that didn't work out." she replied with a small shrug.

"Is that how you ended up being Miss Patriot?" He didn't bother hiding his disgust.

She didn't take her eyes off the road. "It was a job. It helped give me a name. I fail to see what your issue is with that. I was just a face for the government, nothing more."

It was so much more. It was distracting the civilians from the horrors Snow was committing while everyone was busy looking at her with envy and desire. However, he sensed that any kind of explanation would be lost on her. Like she said, to her it was a job and nothing more. She probably didn't even realize.

The silence in the car was tense and she pushed the truck faster as if she wanted to leave the conversation behind. After a few minutes, she giggled.

"What now?" he asked. She always went from sulking to laughing so quickly he wasn't sure how her mind worked. If it worked. She did get changed in a mall full of zombies after all.

"A Stetson?" She shook her head with a smile. "Really, Haymitch?"

He rolled his eyes. "The Zombie Defense League?" he shot back. "Really, sweetheart?"

She started laughing and he couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips.