Requested by marizpe: I have a prompt for Between Lives I hope you like the idea, I want to know who was Haymitch mentor because district 12 hadnt victors or better say any victors alive. (Maybe was Chaff his mentor?) And what advice the mentor told Haymitch for his training and interview. Thank you! =)

The Mentor That Groomed a Victor

(16 years old)

Haymitch drummed his fingers impatiently against the hand rest, staring at Maysilee who was staring back at him before his gaze shifted to Allan who had a plate full of chocolates and finally at Aster studying a potted flower so intently and wondering out loud why there were fake flowers.

He was jittery and for good reasons. They had left District Twelve hours ago and they have yet to meet their mentors. His only connection to the Capitol right now was the escort who couldn't even keep their names straight, and that was not a good sign of what was to come. No wonder nobody in Twelve ever win the Games.

"Where's our mentor?"

"I already told you – we're picking your mentor on the way to the Capitol," Amara gave him the side eye.

"Just want to make sure you haven't forgotten," he retorted.

According to Amara, and Haymitch had to be persistent in order to purge the information out of her, Twelve would usually pick up the mentor on their way to the Capitol from the loaning district that year. This year, it fell on District Four to loan District Twelve two mentors and if that was not possible, at least one.

The policy of loaning mentors to districts without one rotated amongst the districts year after year; District Twelve would get from District One in one year, District Two the next, so on and so forth. The cycle would only be broken until the year Twelve could produce a Victor. District One and Two had the heaviest burden, often having to loan mentors to more than one district but personally, Haymitch thought they could afford it.

The train pulled up to District Four and Haymitch moved to the window, craning out to get a better look.

"Do you see anything?" Aster asked.

"Nothing yet," he replied. Aster had kept close to him for some reason, perhaps because she knew Haymitch from the Seam. Maysilee and Allan were merchant kids, and as much as they were all from the same district, there was still a small divide.

Allan stood up, joining Haymitch by the window.

"Do you really think they'll help us?" Allan asked. "The mentors from Four… they'd be better off helping their own district, yeah?"

"The mentors from One and Two might do that, especially since this is the Quell we're talking about and Quell Victors are often very… shall we say, popular? A rare breed in itself."

Haymitch and Allan both jumped and spun around to see a small woman, hair starting to turn grey at the ends, standing by the door to the train car and watching them with amusement.

"Your mentor," Amara announced. She walked over and shook their mentor's hands. "We only get one mentor this year?"

"Same like every other year."

"I thought with double the tributes they could at least loan Twelve two mentors," Amara complained. "I will leave you to get acquainted with these tributes, then"

Once Amara left, their mentor gestured for them to take a seat, looking at each of them in turn. "I can assure you that I will do my best to see you through the Tribute Parade, the interviews, the trainings and to the best of my ability, while you're in the arena. During the duration of the Games, I am to forget that I'm from District Four. My duties are to you. Can we work together?"

Maysilee stood up and moved towards her, offering a hesitant smile. "I'm Maysilee."

"Mags Cohen," she shook the proffered hand.

"You won the 13th Games," Allan blurted out.

"That I did, young man, that I did. You weren't even born yet, yes?" she laughed lightly.

Allan and Aster introduced themselves but Haymitch remained seated. He never took his eyes off his mentor.

"This one's a stubborn one, then?" Mags smiled at him.

"He's like that," Maysilee said, teasing. "He's the brooding sort – he thinks he's cool."

Haymitch glared at Maysilee. He wasn't brooding, not at all. He was just thinking quietly to himself. Haymitch was glad for a mentor to help them and she seemed decent enough but he wasn't sure how a woman in her mid-fifties could truly help them. She reminded him somewhat of Greasy Sae and she didn't look like she had the capacity to harm anyone, much less kill. Still, she did win, so he supposed he shouldn't be so quick to judge a book a by its cover. She had to know a thing or two on how to stay alive and he was going to listen.

"I don't think Maysilee was right about you. You're not trying to act "cool". You, I presume," Mags turned towards him after the other three had returned to their room, "just don't talk much."

He shrugged. "Don't have much to say."

"Nothing at all? Not even now? No questions for me?"

Haymitch regarded her carefully and then leaned forward in his seat. "How do I stay alive?"

"How do you want to play the Games?"

Haymitch blinked, finding the question unexpected. "What do you mean?"

"Haymitch, the Games began the moment you stepped into the Capitol. It doesn't start when the countdown ends in the arena and you step off the platform. It begins before. From the moment you arrive in the Capitol," Mags explained, "there will be eyes on you and the rest of the tributes. There are 47 other tributes this year. That's a lot of tributes, a lot of names, a lot of faces. Why should they remember you of all people? What's so special about you? Why should they root for you? These people, they'll easily forget that you exist, especially where you're from. It is up to you how you want to stand out and be noticed. You ask how you're going to stay alive, so I ask again, how do you want to play the Games?"

Haymitch scratched his cheek, the only traitorous sign that he was uncertain and out of his depth. Other than that, he held Mags gaze as he ask, "Are you really going to help us?"

"I see you," Mags chuckled. "Your trust is not quite so easily gain, is it?"

"If Four wins -"

"If Four wins, I'd have nothing to do with it, my boy. Their mentor will be called for interviews; their mentor will have the spotlight. Not me. I am Twelve's mentor this year. I will be honest with you and treat you with respect and in return I ask that you trust me, even for just a little bit. You only have me now, Haymitch, forget everything else."

"Okay," he slouched in his seat.

"There are four of you. When all of you are in the Games, circumstances will crop up, things will happen and I will be forced to focus my attention on only one of you. Only one makes it out alive. As much as I'd like to help all four of you, I will have to make choices. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, you'll choose the one with the best chance – might not be me. I understand. That's what you're saying right?"

"But as long as you're still out here and not in the arena, I can still help. You need an image, an angle we can play, something for the sponsors to remember you by, Haymitch. Sponsors can be helpful."

"I've seen the Games… Twelve hardly had sponsors so what does it matter?"

"Twelve had never given the sponsors any reason to pledge their money. Perhaps this year it might be different. It doesn't hurt to try, my boy. Tomorrow we will reach the Capitol, and tomorrow, all eyes will be on you. Go to sleep and think about what I said. Think of an angle, a mask to put on for these people."

Haymitch gave a curt nod and rose to his feet, bidding Mags goodnight.

XxX

He woke up later than the others and took his own sweet time getting ready, exploring the bathroom and turning on the numerous dials. Back at home, he couldn't even get running water from the tap and had to haul pails of it from the communal well and here, in a moving train no less, water was within his reach.

During breakfast, Mags must have given the other three the same advice she told him. When the train reached the Capitol and they departed to throngs of people waiting for a glimpse of the tributes, Aster smiled sweetly, an innocent fourteen year old girl. Maysilee stood tall with her chins up though her eyes darted nervously around her. Allan, under Amara's strict guidance kept the food away from his hands and actually looked presentable with his hair combed neatly. He was the image of the boy next door.

Haymitch spent the night thinking of an image and when morning came, he decided to just wing it. That was when he realised that that was who he is. He had a laid back attitude and he mustered it, sauntering through the platform behind the rest with a bored indifference though his palms were sweaty and he was nervous. His eyes swept the crowd and when he caught the eyes of a group of girls, he gave them a curt nod. They went wild much to his surprise.

He looked at Mags uncertainly. She nodded and he relaxed.

"Keep doing what you're doing. I was a girl once," she said and Haymitch found it difficult to reconcile that image with the person she was now. "We all like boys who are … dark and enigmatic."

Haymitch swallowed. "I don't think I'm like that at all."

"Confidence is key – you don't have to be it, you just have to pretend to be it," Mags whispered, nudging him forward. "Don't let them see you're afraid. Play the game, Haymitch."

For the brief minute, they were all noticed by the crowd, Haymitch more so than the others. He was tall and he towered over the rest, walking behind them, his grey eyes taking in the sight.

"He's quite handsome and the girl… Maysilee, she's pretty, too," he heard someone said. "He's dreamy," another chimed in. "I've never seen eyes like that," he overheard and he wondered what was wrong with his eyes.

Cameras flashed and people screamed his name. It was disconcerting but he kept moving forward until they reached car. Out of public's view, Haymitch sagged in relief.

"That was scary," Aster whispered.

"Good work, everyone, good work!" Mags beamed.

"He should smile more," Amara disapproved, jerking her head at Haymitch. "A long face like that… It's horrendous. It's not good for the public image!"

"I told him not to," Mags countered, the tone in her voice challenged Amara to counter her instructions at her own peril.

As it was every year, District Twelve faded into the background during the Tribute Parade. Their costumes and make up did not help one bit, and it was beyond Mags' control though she did mutter under her breath about Twelve needing new stylists. The interview, according to Mags, was the last shot for any of them.

"Haymitch," Mags sat him down. "You had a training score of ten which is good, more than good, in fact. They are going to wonder what you did in front of the Gamemakers to get that score. I don't have to tell you that a ten is rare for District Twelve, do I?"

"Okay, so…?"

"So you keep it up, that air of mystery. Play the angle as if you know something they don't, keep them guessing, keep them interested. I want you to channel that attitude as if you have better things to do with your time than be here. You are a good looking young man. I trust that fact is not lost on you?" Mags eyes twinkled. "I've heard whispers of your name on the street. You know who will sponsor you?"

"No. Do we get to know these sorts of things?"

"Teenage girls who will beg their parents for money to give you a gift, to be noticed by you."

"I don't want to play on their feelings…." he started, shifting uncomfortably. His mother raised better than that, taught him to always respect girls and women, and it didn't feel right to him to shed all of that for a few...

"It doesn't matter, Haymitch," Mags told him sternly. "These people they will… You do what you have to do, you understand?"

"So you want me to be an asshole?"

Mags gave a bitter laugh, shaking her head and rubbing his arm gently.

"She wants you to play the bad boy card," Amara sighed impatiently as if Haymitch was an idiot. "Just like we're playing the innocent girl card for that little girl…"

Aster, Haymitch clenched his jaws, her name is Aster.

"Do you see the contrast now?" Amara went on. "It's endearing since you always seem to keep a lookout for that girl – the jerk with a soft heart. That's the angle."

"That's enough, Amara. I think he gets it."

It was not such a difficult image to roll out. When Caesar asked during his interview, his answer, "I don't think it makes much of a difference, they're going to be twice as stupid," came easily enough.

Haymitch Abernathy was different than what the Capitol had every year from the Career districts. He wasn't strong or aggressive or threatening. Neither is he the scared, terrified tribute from an underdog district. He was confident and cocky, good looking and smart. He was seen talking to Aster and Maysilee and Allan; friendly, in a way. He balanced.

In other words, he was a breath of fresh air in the Capitol and half of them loved him already.

In Catching Fire, when Haymitch was introducing the other victors/tributes to Katniss and Peeta, he came to Mags and when he said "She's a wonderful lady," he paused for a while and there was a look on his face... I've always like to think that Haymitch and Mags are friends and they knew each other but what if there was more... So, I wrote Mags as Twelve's mentor for the Quell!