Requested by It's me get over it: To fit in with the 'first' theme you seem to be on with these last few chapters; I was wondering would you write one where Haymitch FIRST gets involved with the Rebels and their plans? Do you see him seeking them out, or them coming to him- for his strategic ability or just access to Katniss? If that doesn't strike your fancy; no drama! I look forward to what you will share next.

This is a very, very long chapter but I enjoyed writing it so much.

Meeting Plutarch Heavensbee

(21 years old)

Under his mentorship, eight children had died. Nine - now that the canon for this year's female tribute just went off but Aaron was still alive and had somehow managed to survive three days into the Games which made him to the top eight.

Interviews were conducted in District Twelve and Amara had given strict instructions to the mayor for those being interviewed to dress in their best. She ended up shaking her head when their best was not up to her standard.

Aaron gave Haymitch a little hope that this year, it could be different. He would soon realise that having that kind of hope would only crush the remnants of his soul because Aaron was violently killed. The Careers had hunted him down for a day and somehow, he managed to elude them only to be killed by mutts. The Gamemakers had released the mutts in the hopes of driving the eight tributes in close proximity to each other in order to make the Games more interesting. Aaron crossed path with a pack of mutts and he was torn to shred, losing an arm and both legs.

Outside, on the streets and in places with access to a television, the Capitol cheered. The more brutal the death, the louder they cheered.

In Twelve's viewing booth, Haymitch's temper exploded. The table was upended and he threw the bottle in his hand against the wall where it shattered to pieces. He cursed freely and vehemently.

"I'll kill Antony in his sleep," Haymitch vowed as he raged against the Head Gamemaker. "These Games are a fucking – "

"I'm taking him back to the Penthouse," Chaff announced at a stunned Amara as he dragged Haymitch forcefully out of the Games Headquarters. "Shut up – drink something," he growled, pushing a flask into Haymitch's hand just so he would be quiet.

Haymitch ripped his arm away from Chaff's iron grip the moment they entered the Penthouse. "He could have made it," Haymitch slammed his hand angrily on the table. The plates rattled. "If it weren't for the mutts, he could have a chance. I could bring – "

"There's no guarantee he'd win, Haymitch. District One and Two is still in the Games," Chaff reminded.

"I don't know how you do it," Haymitch breathed heavily. "I don't know how – I can't anymore. I'm sick of these Games. It's the same thing year after year and I have to sit here and watch them get killed. I'm fucking done with it, Chaff."

Chaff poured him another drink and he grabbed the glass, downing the contents in one gulp. That was how Chaff coped and this was the only way he knew how to help his friend.

"How could they," Haymitch moved to the window and gestured wildly at the crowd below, "not see it for what it is? Hey! Hey, you morons," he pounded on the window, "you murderers! You're all child killers and you're – "

"Shut up! Haymitch, shut the hell up," Chaff crossed the distance and smacked his head. His eyes darted all over the Penthouse, searching. "Shut up, right now."

"What is the meaning of this?" Amara demanded as she stepped into the Penthouse, having finally caught up with them. "Did you make him drunk again?"

"Not now. Get lost," Chaff snapped.

Haymitch's eyes were fixed on his escort and he directed his anger towards her. He staggered forward. "You," he breathed. "Look at you. You know what you are, Amara? You're a murderer. You kill those children. How many have you killed? How many?" he screamed. "You and your fucking Capitol are nothing but – "

"I'm calling the Peacekeeper," Amara declared. Her eyes were wide and fixed on Haymitch, watching his every move with fright. "I don't feel safe in his presence. I'm calling the Peacekeepers on him for assaulting an escort, for threatening the Head Gamemaker and for verbally attacking the good name of the Capitol. How dare he think he'll get away with this? He's gotten away with too much!"

"Don't do that," Chaff said hastily. "Come on, Amara, don't do that. Tell me, love, what do you want?"

"You're just the same as him," Amara spat, finally able to speak up against all the times Chaff had angered her. She took a step towards the door.

Chaff went forward, reaching out for her to try and talk some sense or come to a compromise at the same time that Haymitch lunged at her. Amara stepped back and Haymitch fell on the ground, his head hitting the floor with a thud.

"I think he cracked his head," Amara said.

"Bitch," Haymitch muttered which did not help matters because it reminded Amara of the anger she felt and she left the Penthouse, leaving Chaff to deal with him.

"You've done it, Haymitch," Chaff heaved as he hauled him to his feet and disposed him at the sofa. "Your escort's gonna come back with the cavalry."

Haymitch snorted, waving his hand carelessly. He reached out for the bottle again to have another drink.

"They've already killed my family. What else are they going to do to me? Nothing, Chaff. They ain't gonna do nothing to me. They can't touch me," he laughed bitter and vicious. "They can't touch me."

"You're not invincible, Haymitch. Don't ever think that you are. They can kill you," Chaff told him seriously. He desperately needed a drink but Haymitch was already gone and he had to remain sober for once, for his friend's sake. "They can - "

The footsteps alerted them to someone's presence and when Chaff looked up, four Peacekeepers were there with Amara.

"He's right there," Amara gestured towards the sofa.

Chaff shot Amara a disgruntled look. Haymitch stared blankly as the Peacekeepers approached him but when they grabbed him, he fought back, pulling his knife out and swinging it at the Peacekeepers. One of the Peacekeepers knocked the back of his head with a gun and Haymitch stumbled, lying on the floor and not getting up.

Chaff tried to talk to them out of it but after Haymitch's attack, they refused to listen. Amara had filed a report against him and his violent behaviour did not do him any favours. They dragged him out of the Penthouse.

The prison he was brought to was different than the one he had been thrown into that one time two years ago when Chaff had gotten him so drunk he had urinated in public. This prison was cold and dark. The guards were more hostile with him.

"Where's this place?" he demanded.

Haymitch was not expecting an answer just as he was not expecting the blow to his stomach. He doubled over, groaning in pain. He had barely straightened up when another punch landed on his right. They left his face untouched but the blows and punches came one after another; on his chest, his ribs and his stomach. He couldn't catch his breath and he couldn't defend himself. Haymitch crumpled to floor, covering his head protectively with his arms.

It wasn't a good position to be in because the Peacekeepers were freely kicking him until someone grabbed his collar so he was face to face with the man.

"You are a citizen of Panem, are you not?" the man shook him.

"Fuck off," he groaned, spitting out blood.

"Answer the question," he roared with another punch to his ribs.

"Yes," Haymitch coughed. "Yes, yes. What – What do you want?"

He laughed. "I want you to know that you owe your life to the Capitol. The district would have crumpled without the Capitol. You should remember that, Abernathy. Your house, your money and the food you eat, you owe it to this great city."

Haymitch chuckled but even that simple act caused his sides to explode in pain.

"Sure," Haymitch nodded with a mocking smile on his lips, "sure."

The Peacekeeper didn't find that satisfactory so he turned to his colleague, releasing his hold on Haymitch. Haymitch collapsed.

"Burn his district. If he's not going to learn his lesson in here then perhaps -"

"No," Haymitch's head snapped up. He pushed himself up. "No, no – there are people… children…"

"We can't kill you, Abernathy. Twelve needs a mentor but there are always other ways..."

"No, I get – I get it," he inhaled deeply. "You leave my district the fuck alone."

"Sir?" a Peacekeeper asked.

"It'll be fun to see it burn," the man smirked.

He was dragged again to another room, his body weak and boneless and he was made to watch as the Peacekeepers in Twelve received their orders, setting fire to The Hob. It was a small fire but he saw Sae's stalls went up in flames. Haymitch closed his eyes briefly, thankful that Sae was not there.

Haymitch received the message loud and clear.

"Next time, it'll be people's houses. You keep your mouth shut, Abernathy."

The door to the room open and from his position on the floor, he saw a pair of shiny shoes entered the room.

"I trust the lesson has been sufficiently imparted?" the newcomer asked.

"Yes, sir. I think he's learnt his lesson. He still needs to be detained -"

"I will take it from here. He needs to be briefed first and foremost, and then we'll see about the rest of his sentencing."

"I need a fucking hospital," Haymitch groaned, pressing his hand against his stomach.

"That, too," the voice chuckled.

XxX

He remained awake throughout his treatment. The doctors had been ordered not to afford him the luxury of being unconscious.

Haymitch was wheezing, breathing through his nose. He had two fracture ribs which he was told would heal on its own, a punctured lung and multiple contusions all over the trunk of his body.

His hospital room was at the moment, under lockdown. Neither Amara, Chaff or Beetee could enter. It was a few hours later when the doctors and nurses were finally done with him that the same man from earlier entered. He wore a fine suit, tailored specifically for him with his blonde hair combed neatly. No wig, no dye job, Haymitch noted.

There was a warm disposition about him and his eyes twinkled as he approached the bed. He seemed happy and jovial. Haymitch disliked him for being too cheerful.

"Good evening, Haymitch. I'm Plutarch Heavensbee."

"Don't care," Haymitch mumbled. "Say what you gotta say and then get out."

Being a Gamemaker meant that Haymitch had seen Plutarch Heavensbee around, of course, but he never had much cause to strike up any conversation. Haymitch wasn't in the habit of socialising with Gamemakers. A few times, he had caught Plutarch looking at him but the man made no move to approach him and so Haymitch thought nothing of it.

"This is Fulvia Cardew," he gestured at his assistance. He took a seat on the empty chair, retrieve some papers from his briefcase and spread them all over the hospital table in front of Haymitch. At first glance, they were all Games related documents. But under the table, on Haymitch's bed, Plutarch set down a small device.

The smile was still fixed on his face like a permanent feature as if all this was normal for him. He switched on the device. Haymitch knew because a green light came on.

"We can talk freely now," Fulvia confirmed.

"There are bugs in this hospital room just as there are bugs in your Penthouse," Plutarch explained "There's a camera at the top right hand corner - don't look at it. They can see us but they can't hear us because of this," he tapped the device. "For all intents and purposes, I am here to brief you on proper mentoring behaviour since it usually falls on Junior Gamemakers like myself to do this tedious job of keeping Games personnel in line."

"What the - " Haymitch started. This was all new to him. Five years and nobody told him about bugs. No wonder Chaff was frantic when he started mouthing off earlier.

"What you did was very foolish," Plutarch went on.

"Are there bugs in my room?"

"Yes," Plutarch affirmed. "Don't get rid of it or they will be suspicious. There are several others in the living room and the dining room of the Penthouse. The trains, too. Suffice to say, there are eyes and ears everywhere in the Capitol."

"You're a Gamemaker," Haymitch pointed out not quite understanding why he of all people was telling him all this. "You work for Snow."

"I am," Plutarch plucked a paper and pretended to scrutinise it before handing it over to Haymitch. "I understand that you do not like the Capitol."

Haymitch blinked and then he let out a chuckle. "You're fucking kidding me, right? You don't get to ask questions like that – it's fucking suicide. They whip you for that in the districts, if you're lucky. If not, the firing squad."

"I am not 'kidding' you as you put it and yes, Haymitch, I am very well aware of the punishment for dissent in the districts. Here, there are accidental deaths, if you know what I mean?"

"Look," Haymitch began, "I don't know you and I don't trust you. You're sitting there talking 'bout things that could – "

"I have been watching you since you won the Games," Plutarch interrupted. "I have never seen anything like what you did with the forcefield and as a Gamemaker I had to watch every single Games there ever was," there was a certain admiration in his voice when he talked about Haymitch's Games. "The confines of the arena didn't seem to stop you. You think far and beyond, and you use what is around you to your advantage. We need someone like you, we need a mind like yours."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Who's we?"

"What is the use of raging against the Capitol, Haymitch?" Plutarch leaned forward in his seat and held Haymitch's gaze. "You will get your loved ones killed or in your case, already dead. And it'll get you beatings like the one you had and your district burnt to the ground."

Haymitch blinked, giving a slight shake of his head. He glanced around the hospital room just to be sure he was here and this was not his drunken brain playing tricks on him. He spotted the camera Plutarch was talking about.

"Is this a trap?" he said suddenly, pulling the blanket back and ready to bolt.

"Please don't do that," Plutarch said softly. "The camera can see you and this is supposed to be a discussion with no reason for you to be alarmed. I implore you to hear me out, and please act accordingly for the cameras until I leave. I am risking my life here talking to you."

"You said you were watching me."

"We watch all new victors. After what they did do your family, we believe we could harness your anger and your... feelings for the Capitol into something more fulfilling," Fulvia said in a matter of fact tone.

"Still not making sense, sweetheart, and I'm sure it's not 'cause I'm under heavy pain medication either."

"There is a group of us banded together with a common goal in mind. We're underground, in the shadows and therefore recruitment has to be done very, very carefully," Plutarch told him impatiently. "We are fighting for a better Panem; a better future for all of us and we need someone in District Twelve. I have heard whispers of a possible uprising in Twelve."

Haymitch kept quiet. He neither denied nor confirmed that. Growing up in the harsh condition of Twelve, it was only natural that the feelings of unfairness and injustice bubbled to the surface and people did talk about fighting back. But the problem with people in Twelve was that they talk but they were never a brave bunch to do more than that. Even if they did muster the courage, it needed to be an organised movement or it would be doomed to fail. Haymitch knew this and when Aspen had first whispered angrily about fighting back and how it fell on them to change the future, Haymitch had told him it would not be possible without the eleven other districts. Aspen had deflated and there no more talks about it.

"Haymitch?"

"The way I see it, you Capitol citizens are already in a better position. So why fight? Why jeopardise everything you have now? What future do you mean and how the fuck would I know that it would benefit us, too?"

Fulvia huffed impatiently.

"Life here in the Capitol isn't at all like how you imagined it, Haymitch. I don't expect you to know and I don't blame you for being ignorant of it. It's no different than how most of us here are ignorant of the situation in the districts. But the future we're talking about is one without the Games."

Haymitch inhaled sharply only for him to have a coughing fit. His chest hurt so badly.

"I don't expect an answer now. Or at all, for that matter," Plutarch informed him. "Not everyone wants to fight but I trust you not to say anything. That is the only thing I ask of you. Keep this between us three."

"That is a lot of trusts to place in someone you don't even know," Haymitch pointed out. "Risky business talking 'bout going against the Capitol right here in the Capitol itself."

"Riskier still if I were to go to Twelve, isn't it? Unheard of, even."

"I could report you," he said just as Amara had reported him.

"You could but you won't," Plutarch smiled, nodding at the silver cuff on Haymitch's hand which bound him to the hospital bed. "Which brings me to my next point - you are to serve a month in jail here in the Capitol but as a show of good faith, I shall come up with a brief report to say that you fully understood your mistake and that you've shown the appropriate amount of remorse for attacking your escort, and that you regretted what you said about the Capitol."

"I didn't attack her."

"It's her word against yours, Haymitch," Plutarch said, gathering all of his things. "And you do have a penchant for unruly behaviour."

Haymitch kept quiet.

"You have my word," he gave Plutarch a nod. "You were here for proper mentoring behaviour."

"Excellent," he slid a booklet to Haymitch and he laughed lightly. "Read that in case your escort grilled you and you need to answer on how to be a proper mentor."

There was nothing else to say so Haymitch merely watched Plutarch as he packed his things. When he stood up, he said, "I'm not saying that things will change now or in five years. None of us can promise that but this can't go on. I think you know it, too. Children have been punished enough. 55 years is a long time for a punishment, don't you think?"

"What is your plan?" he couldn't help but ask.

"I can't tell you that," Plutarch said. "Not until I know for certain where your loyalties lie and even so, there's a saying that one shouldn't put all the eggs in one basket, yes? You may not trust me but I'm certain you trust your mentor. Why don't you ask Mags about me? This isn't the first conversation we had with a victor."

"Mags?"

"I will see you around."

You've just met a young Plutarch Heavensbee :) It took them another 20 or so odd years before the Rebellion take flight. Let me know what you think!