Chapter 6
New beginnings

Buttercup's ugly face poked out from under a honeysuckle bush, his ears flattened at the racket the humans were making.

It could be a glorious day to be Buttercup. A day for bush spraying and field mice chasing. A day to flop down on the grass after you ate and lick yourself clean in the warm sun.

If it hadn't been for those humans and their endless hammering and sawing, shouting and clanking. There was no point in even trying to figure them out.

Somewhere a door opened and Buttercup turned towards the sound. A low growl could be heard deep in his throat when he saw who it was. Her he despised almost more than all of the others combined. The sun caught in the silver tray she was carrying, shining right in Buttercup's face and the cat disappeared, quick and silent as a shadow.

"I've brought you some refreshments," said Effie, her bandana looking like a big bow on top of her head when she joined her team around the skeleton of a house in Haymitch's back garden.

Haymitch bathed in sweat. He tossed the hammer back in the toolbox, causing the nails and screws to hop and he was the first to be by Effie's side.

"Orange juice for Katniss and Peeta," said Effie and gave the children each a glass clinking with ice. "And for Haymitch, your favorite."

Haymitch swept half of his blood orange juice in one go, refilled it with the content of his silver hip flask and slurped it hastily to keep any precious drops from spilling over.

Effie followed his movements with her eyes but she didn't say anything. Instead she admired their work.

"I think they will feel at home here," said Effie. "Who would have thought you would be so skilled at carpentry, Haymitch?"

The shelter was turning out larger then she'd expected. More like a small barn. Haymitch would be able to walk inside of it with ease when they were finished.

"Would've gone a lot faster too if some people had lifted a finger around here," said Haymitch.

But Effie was unfazed by his pointed look.

"I'm keeping you hydrated and well-nourished," she said, offering them some dark rye bread with cottage cheese and avocado. "You can't build a goose pen if you don't have the energy."

Long had the nights been also in District 12. But being surrounded by people who cared for her and whom she could care for in turn had been good for Effie. The first night she slept undisturbed by bad dreams Haymitch turned off her alarm clock so when she finally came to it was to the sound of a mockingjay tapping on the window, the sun flooding the room.

The house was deserted but she found all three of them in Peeta's studio. Well, she was the only one calling it studio. It was simply one of the rooms in the children's house and when Effie opened the door, the boy stood by one of his canvases making a painting of Greasy Sae surrounded by all her grand children and by the table, which still held breakfast, Katniss and Haymitch sat, eating cheese buns and coloring.

Katniss sketched a whole lot of different things, although she seemed more preoccupied with the food and didn't finish many of them. Haymitch on the other hand, whose drawing skills were about as well developed as his hand writing – was completely absorbed in making the most hideous caricature of Effie Trinket to ever see the light of day.

Effie cut herself a roll that she spread with goat's cheese and added a few apple slices on top of that; a taste sensation that would always remind her of District 12. There was coffee in a thermos for her and when she had emptied half a cup Haymitch put his pen down to flex his fingers and take a mouthful of his own (liquor thinned) coffee. Or maybe his coffee thinned liquor. He pushed a paper towards Effie.

"Knock yourself out," he said.

Effie swallowed the last of her bread and dabbed a napkin against her mouth. He thought she'd go for one of the many pencils in the old jam jar next or maybe say they really should clear the table and take care of the dishes before sitting down to draw.

She did neither.

Effie folded the paper, diagonally. She unfolded it and folded it once more on the middle. Haymitch leaned back in his chair, watching Effie's skilled hands fold and crease the paper, turn it over, make little changes here and there, transform it into something new. She added some finishing touches of colour and then put it in front of him. A little paper creature. He picked it up.

"A goose?" he asked, looking at it from every angle. Effie nodded.

"I took lessons a few years ago. It's called origami."

He attempted to give it back to her.

"You can keep it," she said. "If you like."

Haymitch smiled and put it on the window sill and when he looked back at Effie, she was smiling too. It was the first time he'd seen it ever since that stupid morning in his kitchen.

And Effie's paper goose evoked new life to an old thought in Haymitch.

There were quite a few useful farm animals in Twelve, if not in great numbers. One woman ran a small poultry farm, supplying the district with both eggs and chicken. One or two families kept themselves with pigs like the Mellarks had. The Goat Man whom had survived the bombings by a stroke of luck and had loathed his time in Thirteen almost more than anyone else had returned to his raising goats as soon as Twelve was somewhat back on its feet.

He'd been one of those who had temporary housing in the Victor's Village and even though he was the same cranky old loner he'd always been he actually found a young apprentice in Vick who helped him with the goats several days a week. And Greasy Sae's granddaughter, the girl who lived in her own world – her family owned a couple of sturdy young horses which were of especially good use during the winter months when the roads needed to be cleared.

But if you wanted geese you had to go to District 11 and Effie she volunteered as his travel companion.

"To keep you from buying half the goose farm."

Compared with the journey to the Capitol the train ride to District 11 took no time at all.

How flat this part of Panem seemed compared to District 12, thought Effie as she watched the fields filled with chocolate and cream coloured dairy cattle, the crops which stretched out for miles and miles and in the distance, apple trees. A whole sea of them.

Gone were the ten meter fence topped with coils of barbed wire, gone were the watchtowers and the heavily armed peacekeepers.

You felt like ants under the gigantic, cloud-dotted blue sky moving over your head.

With almost an hour left until they were to meet with the geese farmer, Haymitch and Effie walked down to the glittering blue water they'd seen from the train and had a seat in the shadow of a tree close to the beach.

Watching the waves wash in you could almost believe you were in District 4 but it was actually a lake, Panem's biggest. Far out there was an island you could get to if you had a boat like the one pulled up on the sand, the name Pomona in white paint on its side.

Effie glanced at Haymitch, the expression in his eyes and she knew he must be thinking about Chaff. How could he not.

Her concern must have shown on her face because Haymitch muttered out,

"Relax, Eff. I'm not gonna break."

Sweat trickled down his back and Haymitch rolled up his sleeves, put his hand in Effie's pocket getting out her handkerchief that he blotted his face and neck with.

"Um, thank you," said Effie when he stuffed it back in her hand and he undid the first few buttons in his fresh shirt which Effie had made him put on.

God, he needed a drink. He hadn't had one all day and his silver hipflask was stuffed deep in a closet back home. Wisely so. Showing up with alcohol on his breath wouldn't buy him any geese.

"Fuck it's hot," Haymitch muttered. He undid the rest of the buttons and tugged his shirt off completely, tossing it on the sand. "Wake me when it's time to go," he said and lay down, arm slumped over his eyes. Effie took his discarded shirt, brushed it off and folded it neatly, looking to Haymitch when a deep sigh came over his lips.

Chaff had always been more like a brother to him ever since that drunken night decades ago when Haymitch got off on the wrong floor and passed out in the victor's bed. He'd been a frequent guest victor at the Games and when he wasn't passing a bottle back and forth with Haymitch he made a sport out of provoking fights with peacekeepers, testing how many he could take on. He'd had a gift for getting Haymitch and himself into trouble which it often fell on Effie to get them out of.

He'd been loud, drunk and irresponsible and he'd been one of the few people who could make Haymitch laugh. Genuinely laugh like he had not a care in the world.

She watched Haymitch stretched out on the ground, arm slumped over his eyes like he was asleep which she knew he wasn't. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was over his friend's death but he wouldn't appreciate her bringing it up. He never spoke of the dead. Not with her anyway.

The sunlight shone through the branches, making all that curly dark blonde hair on Haymitch's chest seem golden. Her eyes wandered down his body to the jagged, white scar below his belly button and she always winced when she saw it. Not because it was ugly but because it always made her think about how much it must have hurt receiving it.

He was blonder than usual from long days by the goose pen. Even though she would never admit it to him, he would probably not even believe her if she did, but she really liked his hair. She couldn't put her finger on why exactly. Maybe because it was such a rare thing to come across back home where a messy hair was frowned upon, unless styled that way on purpose.

He wasn't a classic beauty. Some of her friends wouldn't even call him beautiful at all. They would look at him and only see his stomach, the gray hairs in his stubble, the dirt under his fingernails, his weather bitten skin. And yes, those weren't false observations. But they were still wrong.

She felt herself getting a little warm remembering how soft his hair had been when she buried her hands in it at New Year's.

"Eff?" Haymitch said, without even lifting his arm from his face. "Are you undressing me with your eyes, right now?"

Effie blushed through her foundation but she didn't let it show in her voice when she said,

"You are half undressed already."

"You're welcome," mumbled Haymitch. "Who can blame you, right?" he added with a gesture towards his body.

"Yes, Haymitch," said Effie. "You're dreamy."

Haymitch removed his arm from his eyes and Effie frowned when she saw the very real Chaff-up-to-no-good smirk on his lips.

"Finally gonna admit it was me, huh?"

"Admit you were what?"

"The one you thought about when you got off at the penthouse."

Effie drew a deep sigh.

"For the very last time, Haymitch," she said. "I did not masturbate."

"What were you doing? Searching for a lost item in there?"

"I was asleep! How do you even remember that? It was years and years ago."

It'd been one of those days at the Training Center before the actual Games. Haymitch had wandered the penthouse like he so often did at night and through the windows the Capitol twinkled below, with people singing and celebrating on the streets but he had a bottle of gin in each hand and they would do good on their promise to blur it all out.

Last he saw Effie she'd been going over their tributes' training schedule for the upcoming interviews. He'd thought her in bed by now but when he got out in the sitting room he found her asleep on the couch instead, the clipboard rising and falling with each breath she took.

A gentleman would probably wake her so she could retreat to her bedroom but why would he do that when she was sleeping so sweetly instead of clucking over his manners.

Effie mumbled something in her sleep and a soft moan escaped her lips. She moved slightly and the clipboard slide off of her landing on the carpet with a soft thud.

He had no business here really, not if Effie was occupying the couch. He took a swig from his bottle and made a move to leave when another moan, deeper this time, came over Effie's lips. Haymitch shot her a glance. She was a whole sea of frilly, green layers. She arched her neck, lips parted when she sighed.

Haymitch's eyebrows lifted. He was something of an expert on nightmares. And that was no nightmare. He watched her hand skim over a sofa cushion, squeezing it lightly and a grin slowly spread over Haymitch's face.

Not as prim and proper as you have people think, huh? he thought and a nasty idea entered his mind.

He put his bottles on the coffee table and leaned in.

"Eff," he said, keeping his voice low and husky. "Effs."

Effie moved her head towards the sound and she groaned again. A tremendous laugh bubbled up inside of him, threatening to spill over but he forced it down and whispered, lingering on every syllable,

"Effie Trinket."

A content little noise escaped Effie's lips and she stretched out one of her long legs, her foot peeking over the end of the couch. Haymitch grinned from ear to ear and he blew softly on her toes peeking through the shoe.

Effie arched her back in response and gave a throaty groan, not at all ladylike, and her hand which had rested on her tummy moved downwards and in between her legs.

"Holy sweet mother of fuck," Haymitch said and pulled back. OK, that he did not expect.

Despite his call just now Effie's eyes remained closed. He couldn't see just what her hand was doing inside all the fluff and frills and layers of her dress but her deep breathing, the moans that dropped from her lips, the way her elbow kept brushing the edge of the coffee table wasn't exactly subtle.

He swallowed thickly, frowning over his own reaction. He knew he should leave, just run fast and far but he was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze from Effie as she pleasured herself, leaving him throbbing and aching to touch himself or better yet lay down with her and find out if she would let him replace her fingers with his own.

He didn't do any of the above, of course. He wasn't that kind of creeper but he couldn't stop a groan when he watched her come breathlessly and trembling against her hand, her cheeks rosy and he was so unimpressed with himself; that tiny Effie Trinket of all people could have this kind of power over him, that a woman dressed like a clown could make his heart beat so hard.

It wasn't until several years later that he told her about it, well… most of it and Effie had confiscated all the bottles from his quarters that season.

"Hey, you were just having fun," he said now, at the sight of Effie glaring at him. The knowledge of his own arousal he planned to take to his grave. "Are you as fun in the sack?"

Effie narrowed her eyes at him. Then her lips curled into an evil smile.

"I'm fantastic," she said. "You wouldn't be able to walk the morning after. But I'm afraid you will have to keep making out with my wig display head like before. I distinctly remember I had to wipe it off with a tissue afterwards."

Haymitch's smile had vanished.

"That was low, Trinket," he said but Effie only chuckled. And he knew someone who would've laughed the hardest if he'd been here.

Chaff.

When the train pulled into District 12's station that evening five geese were on it. Three adults and two goslings. Greasy Sae's daughter, whom Haymitch had spoken with beforehand carted them all back to the Victor's Village in her wagon. Effie sat next to her on the driver's seat while Haymitch rode in the back, keeping an eye on the animals.

And he wasn't the only one.

"You'd think people would have better things to stare at," Haymitch said, watching the faces peeking through curtains, the people on the square who stopped to point and talk amongst themselves. Greasy Sae who stepped out the Hob with Ripper by her side watching their little entourage laughed and called after them that she expected Haymitch to sell her the eggs when the time came.

"I don't think many of them believed you would actually go through with this," said Effie.

"Course I would," said Haymitch and Effie smiled at the slightly offended tone in his voice.

Haymitch had a taxing first couple of days making his new family members feel at home.

When first hearing of his decision to get geese Effie had tried to make him change his mind but when she realized that was futile she went down to District 12's small book shop and sent after a thick volume about geese keeping instead, turning herself into an expert on the subject. At least according to herself.

So while Haymitch sweated in the sun and cleaned after the animals, refilled their water, developed a feeding schedule and did all he could to make them comfortable and used to him, Effie sat by the garden furniture, reading him fun facts about geese and tossed him tips at regular intervals.

"Eff," Haymitch finally sighed from inside the fence, positive he'd get blisters in his ears if she kept going much longer. "How about you shut up and make yourself useful for a change?"

One of the geese chose that particular moment to stretch its wings, making it look twice as large as before and Effie shuddered.

"I'm not coming anywhere near those... those... birds."

Haymitch crouched down and scooped up one of the two goslings and with the bird in hand he got out of the fence and over to Effie.

"Here," he said and extended the gosling to her.

Effie looked suspiciously from Haymitch to the bird and back again.

"Pet her over the back. She won't bite ya."

"How do you know?" said Effie. But she reached out a wary hand, stroking a finger against it like Haymitch suggested. It had eyes like drops of black ink and every once in a while it let out a sound, like a whistle.

"Well, you are rather cute," Effie had to confess.

Haymitch took her hand in his and placed the gosling on her palm. The bird was the color of custard, light creamy brown over the back, soft as a kitten and Effie had almost started to enjoy petting it when the bird suddenly flapped its little stumps of wings and Effie gave a start and the bird flopped down on the grass, where it instantly regained its feet with a whistle.

"What're you doing?" Haymitch said with an accusing look at Effie. He crouched down to pick up the gosling and carry it back to the goose pen. But he hadn't taken into account the gosling's intensions. When he tried to grab her she dashed out of his reach with a merry whistle. Haymitch went after and Effie too, both trying to catch the gosling and it all escalated into a zigzag chase through the Victor's Village you'd think wouldn't be possible with the escapee having such short legs.

"Who the hell drops a baby?" Haymitch said.

"I didn't," said Effie. "It just…" she dove for the gosling but it darted to the right with a loud whistle.

"Stop scaring it!" Haymitch snapped.

At such an incredible unfairness Effie stopped short and the gosling took the opportunity to slip under a front porch.

"Damnit," Haymitch cussed.

He squatted down by it. It was one of the empty houses where the Hawthornes had once lived. He peered through the darkness between the porch and the ground and stuck his hand inside.

"Come here before the rats get you."

It piped and whistled under there but no gosling came out.

"Never a break," Haymitch sighed and he got down on his stomach, stuck his hand inside as long as he could reach, feeling around. "There," he said with a grunt, hand closing around something soft and furry. He pulled it out. "That's the last time I'll ever let you touch the…"

But he stopped short when he saw what he was holding.

"What is that?" said Effie. "Is it… is it a kitten?"

The little fur ball piped helplessly, covered in dirt. A whistle was heard by their feet and there stood the gosling, looking curiously up at Haymitch. Effie took her before she could make another escape.

"Poor little one. Is it abandoned?" she asked Haymitch.

"Probably," he said and before Effie could even grow weary she'd gone and put the gosling back with the others so she could follow Haymitch inside.

"Call the Hob and see if Katniss's there," said Haymitch before he closed himself in the bathroom.

The cat stunk, partially covered in crusts of dirt and its own mess. He sat down on the toilet seat, holding the little creature over the washbasin. He wasn't 100 percent sure what to do and how to wash it but he attached the plug to the bathtub and turned the water on as scorching hot as possible so the steam would heat up the room, instinctively wanting to keep it warm.

He could feel it's every bone through the tufts of gray fur. It couldn't be more than a few weeks old.

Effie entered a moment later and closed the door after herself, telling him Katniss was on her way.

"She will get the necessities in town," she said. "We are to clean him little by little under the stream and keep him warm."

Haymitch turned the faucet on a gentle stream of warm water and while Effie got out clean cotton towels from a cabinet Haymitch held the kitten in one hand while carefully washing and rinsing it with the other. The cleaner the cat got the more it meowed and moved around. A good sign, Haymitch reckoned. He cleaned and patted it with a towel, much assisted by Effie and her hairdryer.

They heard the front door open and it was a relief for both of them to see Katniss, since the girl had actually gone through this one time before when Prim made her save Buttercup.

Haymitch and Katniss retreated to the kitchen with the kitten and Effie heard their mumbling voices while she cleaned up in the bathroom, rinsed the worst out of the towels, hanging them to dry and put everything back in its places.

Haymitch sat at the table with the cat between two towels, surrounded by a variety of different items, including a kitchen scale and a small baby bottle standing in a water bath. Katniss was just dropping some milk on her wrist to feel its temperature when Effie joined them.

"Alright," said Haymitch and cleared his throat awkwardly, moving the towels with the kitten towards Katniss. "Here you go."

Katniss lifted her eyebrows at her old mentor.

"I already have a cat", she said. "This one's all yours."

"I have geese to look after," Haymitch frowned. He looked to Effie. "You're a cat person, right?"

Effie smiled, having a seat across from him.

"Oh, no, Haymitch," she said. "I wouldn't want to separate the two of you."

"I'll talk you through it," said Katniss and Haymitch gave a deep sigh.

It took a few attempts to make the kitten nurse but Katniss gently helped it to latch on and finally it was eating so desperately it hurt to see. Katniss showed Haymitch how to hold the bottle and move in time with the kitten's movements and once she saw he got it right she went out to check that there weren't more kittens lying around the Victor's Village.

"I never thought I would see this," said Effie, watching the tiny little fur ball with Haymitch awkwardly holding the bottle. It held its paws against the bottle sucking so intently you could hear it. Its soft, fluffy, gray fur was a lot darker than it had seemed when it was covered in dirt. A pair of round dark blue eyes looked up at Haymitch.

"Do you realize what this mean?" Effie smiled. "You've become a mommy."

And Haymitch cared for the kitten. Reluctantly, unwillingly, unenthusiastically he cared for him just as well as any mother would, yet not without complaint.

"I don't have time for this," he muttered when it was three in the morning and he had to rub a wet towel against the kitten's butt to make him poo. "I have geese."

No one heard him except Scotch because Effie was back in her old guestroom. That way at least one of us will get some sleep, Haymitch had said with a sigh.

Yeah, he'd named him Scotch. A terrible name for a kitten, to hear Effie tell it.

"If you had to name him after an alcoholic beverage", she told him when he lay on the couch, bottle of whiskey in hand and Scotch crawling over his chest, "you could at least have chosen a pretty name like Spirit or Moonshine."

But Haymitch couldn't be swayed. He drank his whiskey and scratched Scotch's neck, saying he should just as well let him have Effie's last name.

"Cause he sound like you," he said and Scotch gave a long squeak right on cue.

Both Katniss and Peeta had asked around if there was anyone missing a kitten but none of the few people who owned cats had had any kittens at all, at least that's what they said. There were wild cats out in the woods, Katniss could testify on that, but it was still odd.

But as far as Scotch was concerned, life was extraordinarily good anyway. And that big, muttering man who gave him milk and bathed him and, when no one else was looking, kissed him on top of his head – him he liked and once he could walk with greater ease Scotch followed him wherever he went and he protested loudly whenever Haymitch closed himself in the bathroom or had business into town.

Finally Haymitch grew tired of it and scooped him up and one thing was for sure: they got a good laugh, Greasy Sae and Ripper, Bristel and Thom and all of the others when Haymitch pushed inside the Hob to get his usual supply of liquor and he had Scotch peeking out of his breast pocket.

One of those times when Haymitch exited the Hob he met Posy who was out in an errand for her mother and the girl fell in complete awe over Haymitch's little passenger and after that he could hardly ever got rid of her.

Several times a day you could see Posy running between the Seam and the Victor's Village so she could watch Haymitch feed Scotch with the little bottle. She helped him care for the cat too, if Haymitch wanted it or not. She went into town whenever they ran out of something, she dabbed the cat's chin to catch any drops of milk when he ate, she stood at the ready with towels and Effie's hairdryer when it was bathing time and one morning she showed up with a tiny kitten blanket she'd sewn all by herself so Scotch wouldn't get cold at night. Katniss had been there to hear that last part and she'd said, a little sadly, that it was like Prim with Buttercup.

The older cat wasn't at all thrilled over the new addition. The first time he ever saw Scotch, bouncing and hopping around on the grass, playing and biting on a paper ball with Posy giggling, pulling on its string he gave Katniss a look like he wanted to ask what the hell that was supposed to be. It didn't get better when Scotch the next moment discovered the funny, muddy yellow thing flicking on the grass and jumped on it and Buttercup disappeared through the underbrush and didn't show his face for the rest of the day.

Haymitch had started to look worn out, having the geese to look after during the day plus Scotch who needed to be fed and changed round the clock.

Effie had offered to help several times but Haymitch was reluctant to let anyone else care for Scotch, except maybe Posy.

One evening when Effie, dressed in her pink dressing gown, wanted to fill her water glass for the night she found Haymitch on the toilet, his pants and underpants by the ankles and he was snoring slumped over the washbasin. On the worn, old bathroom rug lay Scotch playing with his tail. Effie scooped him up and tried to shake some life into Haymitch. When she couldn't she took Scotch with her to Haymitch's room.

The prepared bottle was still warm and Effie made herself comfortable in the armchair with Scotch on her lap.

"You are so precious, aren't you, little one," she said. Scotch managed to bump the nipple out his mouth and piped loudly in protest. "And you don't at all sound like me."

She helped him to latch on to the bottle again and she caressed him softly while he ate with a strange look in her eyes.

When he was done she took care of him the way she'd seen Haymitch do so many times and the kitten was ready for bed by the time she heard the toilet flush and a very red-eyed Haymitch appeared. He pulled off his clothes as he went and climbed into bed without a word, burying his face in a pillow.

Effie carried Scotch over to him, had a seat on the bed and the kitten immediately lay down on Haymitch's face. He sputtered, getting his mouth full of fur and moved him an inch. He gave a tremendous yawn.

"Get some sleep, Haymitch," said Effie. "I can take care of him tonight."

"No, I'll do it," Haymitch mumbled. "Set the alarm, would you?"

She did so and when she was done Haymitch met her gaze and said,

"Hazelle asked if they can adopt him."

"Oh," said Effie.

"He's still too little. But when he's older… Posy's a good kid. He'll get a better home at Hazelle's. I said he can live there for a while and we'll see how they get along."

Effie stroked Scotch's fur.

"I'm going to miss him," she said.

The kitten grazed its little paw against Haymitch's nose and she saw the expression in the old mentor's eyes.

"The Seam is not far away, Haymtich," she said. "You will see each other again."

"Jeez, Eff. It's just a cat," Haymitch muttered. "And now I don't have to worry about my curtains no more, will I."

Effie said nothing. He wasn't fooling anyone; least of all her.

Haymitch arranged Scotch in his sleeping basket and when he squeaked, he kept his hand there so the kitten could come to a rest against it. Not two minutes later, they were both out.

Haymitch always looked so peaceful when he slept. You wouldn't believe his sleep was so often ridden with unspeakable nightmares when looking at him like this.

Was he aware of how much she worried about him? How badly she wished he would one day find peace?

After their goodbye when Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta had all returned to the ashes of their district with Effie unable to tell how they were, how they were coping she'd called them. Not persistently but every once in a while. There was never an answer and finally she called Dr. Aurelius who was responsible for both Katniss's and Peeta's treatment. He couldn't, wouldn't break his patient confidentiality but hearing the worry in her voice he told her he was in close contact with Haymitch and that she should give them time.

So that's what she did. She gave them space, letting them contact her when they were ready. And while she worried, it was still a comforting thought that Katniss and Peeta had Haymitch, that they had each other.

He was shattered and broken but he would care for them to the extent of his ability. Because no matter how he seemed on the surface, his rough ways and rough looks, all of it was betrayed by his eyes, his gentle hand, that whatever he said held love and tenderness and caring.

When she most needed him, he was there. When Katniss and Peeta needed him he was there and when the little abandoned creature who now slept in the basket needed someone he was there too. He took care of everyone.

Everyone but himself.

She smoothed back Haymitch's hair and before she retreated to her own room leaving them both to rest she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

The "Because no matter how he seemed on the surface" line is inspired by an early interview with Jennifer about Woody/Haymitch. You can read it here: /article/2012/03/02/hunger-games-jennifer-lawrence-woody-harrelson/