A New Beginning

"Ladies and gentlemen," Seneca Crane called in a strong, authoritative, satisfied voice, refraining from introducing himself. It was unnecessary, for they all knew him. His black hair shone under the neon lights and his blue eyes reflected the charged atmosphere of the room. He raised his hands, and the Capitols clapped. "Before the sixty-fourth Hunger Games open in a few minutes, I have the honor of presenting this year's arena to you."

The largest monitor in the sponsor launch came to life and the colorfully dressed people who had paid a fortune just to be there today leaned forward in anticipation. The Hunger Games were more than a fight for life and death, they were a business model and today was the start of the harvest.

A drone shot flew over the twenty-four platforms that would soon hold the tributes of the twelve Districts. The cornucopia glowed silver in the glow of the false sun rising over the forests to the east. The starting point of the Games was on a hill overlooking the rest of the arena.

"Frosty forest to the west, the center of wasteland as far as the eye can see, and to the south a jungle that houses a not exactly inviting swamp," Seneca began, pointing to the screen behind him. "The tributes will not have an easy time with the various extreme weather conditions this year. Neither the mountains nor the steppe will have enough water to survive. But they offer stronger protection against the mutations that hide in the trees and waters."

A close-up of the swamps was shown. Green ferns, turquoise streams, musty ground, surrounded by monotonous rainforest. The fauna would probably remain hidden until the first actual encounter with one of the tributes. "Whoever wants to be crowned victor will have to choose between tundra and rainforest. Of course, that will not happen without one or two traps that we have prepared!" Seneca Crane grinned charmingly at the crowd and deliberately took a step to the side so that he no longer covered the screen.

"In the swamps, there is an increased risk of infection from open wounds due to the presence of bacterial strains, so prepare yourself for increased medical bills." A few sponsors laughed. "On the border between the wasteland and the jungle, there are areas of quicksand, but these will be easy to miss due to the first scattered trees. In both the rainforest and the tundra on the other side of the arena, it will be advisable to stay on the installed footpaths and not wander off."

Someone at the edge of the stage whispered something in Seneca's direction, and the young Gamemaker nodded once. "I hear Caesar wants his airtime back," he told the audience, shrugging dismissively. The Capitols snickered in response to his ignorant attitude. It was no secret that the two men were good friends. As descendants of the most powerful families in the Capitol, it was probably not surprising. "But I cannot leave until I have revealed the arena's highlight, or I am sure to anger Head Gamemaker Lowell." Crane paused briefly, as if to keep the crowd in suspense. He was charismatic with a touch of humor, without making himself or his presentation seem too amusing. The friendly respect he exuded ensured that. Unlike Flickerman, he wasn't a comedian who would sometimes strike a serious note when a particular topic called for it. He was the respectable Gamemaker, occasionally throwing in a humorous phrase whenever there was an especially elaborate death trap to showcase.

"To the north of the arena near the hill, where our dear tributes will start the Games, lies the first hurdle that will pose a challenge for at least half of the players," Seneca explained, and the volcano on the monitor said more than a thousand words. Surprised cries could be heard from the crowd. A river of magma snaked its way behind the northern platforms, cutting off any escape route for the tributes. They wouldn't be able to avoid the carnage at the Cornucopia.

"You better pray that neither Elowen nor Ramon have one of those places," Haymitch muttered, feeling the hope that had been building up inside him over the past few days leave. None of the children would survive a fight at the Cornucopia. Ramon could be as arrogant and self-confident as he wanted.

Effie's face had grown darker as Seneca's presentation continued. The worry for their tributes was clearly visible. She had invested so much energy into their journey that she probably couldn't comprehend such a senseless death. She hadn't responded to Haymitch's harsh words earlier, simply remaining silently by his side as he found a spot to watch the arena reveal. Haymitch didn't know how she had taken it. That would likely become clear as the day progressed. But now wasn't the time to focus on anything other than their tributes. They deserved their full attention, and the young victor already felt guilty enough.

Every fiber of Effie seemed tense. Whether it was from general excitement — since this was her first opening as an escort — or from the critical placement of the tributes that most mentors were undoubtedly worried about, Haymitch couldn't say. "Let us wait and see. Maybe we are worrying for nothing," she finally whispered back, not taking her eyes off the stage where Seneca had just finished and disappeared into the shadows.

Only seconds later, the rest of the televisions in the lounge flickered on, and the faces of Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith greeted the people across Panem. They thanked Seneca Crane with a few insider jokes before returning to the usual programming of their show. In the upper left corner of the screens, a clock counted down the minutes until the Games began. They had just over three minutes left to brace themselves for what was about to unfold.

"Are you ready?" asked Haymitch, regretting the question even as he asked it. Effie wouldn't tell him the truth. A sideways glance at her exaggerated, fake smile was enough to remind him of his own fake kindness that he would have to dish up to the sponsors in the next few days. If one of the children survived the cornucopia.

"I have never been less ready," Effie replied, without batting an eye. The cool, almost arrogant tone in her voice contrasted so sharply with the mask of bliss on her face that Haymitch couldn't help but tense his shoulders.

"No need to be hostile. Just reminding you that the sun doesn't shine every day, even in the Capitol," Haymitch said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants and taking a deep breath. He hadn't seen Chaff anywhere yet. If the kids didn't survive the Cornucopia, he'd need his usual Plan A as a backup.

The reprieve was over. The final minute had begun, and the chatter of the two commentators faded into a buzz in Haymitch's ears. Suddenly, everything else receded. Even Effie's ever-present persona was reduced to a shadow at the edge of his vision.

All Haymitch saw was the arena. A paradise ripped from an artwork, unmatched to this day. Forty-eight souls, too captivated by the apparent fairytale world to notice the death lying in wait beneath its disguise.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Let the 64th Hunger Games begin!"

But this wasn't his arena. These were 24 other innocent souls staring death straight in the face. The countdown began ticking down the final seconds.

10.

The volcano threw many of them off course. The lucky ones who got the platforms next to the flowing magma knew they were going to die. They knew it and somehow accepted it.

8.

Neither Elowen nor Ramon had gotten one of those spots, and for a split moment Haymitch wondered why the odds were in their favor for once. The odds were never with District 12.

6.

That distant female laughter that reached his ears despite his walls made it hard for Haymitch to breathe. He raised his head, even though he already knew what to expect.

4.

Their eyes met across the cheering crowd and Laetitia Lowell gave him a knowing smile. Desire shone in her brown eyes as she raised her golden champagne glass in his direction and toasted in his honor.

2.

Haymitch returned her nod. That was recognition enough. Then he fixed his gaze on Elowen and Ramon. The boy would have a harder time avoiding the Careers. Elowen was conveniently placed in the south of the circle. All she had to do was turn around and run.

The gun went right through him, and for a long moment he was blinded by the lights, which suddenly seemed far too bright. Maysilee's punctured throat was the only image his brain wanted to conjure up.

The screaming around him made him flinch. Half of the tributes had rushed the cornucopia. Most of them were Careers. As soon as they secured their weapons, the bloodbath began. Ramon sprinted toward a backpack, dodging several lost-looking tributes from the outer Districts, and then half-stumbled down the side of the hill, his meager loot in hand. The Careers were too busy defending the cornucopia to pay him any attention. It turned out that hardly any of the remaining children had any interest in murder.

Meanwhile, Elowen was still crouched on her dais, her eyes darting in a panic to the carnage unfolding just a few feet in front of her. The opening of the cornucopia was in her direction, so it would only be a matter of time before someone noticed her. Unlike Ramon, whose survival instincts seemed fortunately intact, Elowen hesitated.

"Turn around and get out of here, girl," Haymitch growled, more to himself than to Effie. He could already see Cashmere's sword digging into her stomach. The golden girl had more than lived up to the audience's expectations. She took down her fellow contestants without batting an eyelid and there was nothing left of the kindness she had shown in the interviews. Just like her brother, she had obviously been trained.

Elowen's words about a possible cooperation with Magnus from District 1 came back to Haymitch's mind and he groaned. You could see how torn she was. Unlike Cashmere, Magnus was not a natural fighter. He held the spear unsteadily in his hands. Nevertheless, he pierced the chest of the girl from 9 without much difficulty. Elowen's body twitched in response to the scene before her. Something must have clicked in her head, because she finally turned her back on the cornucopia. Just like the last fugitives, she tried to cross the slope to put more distance between herself and the Careers.

"How will she survive out there, with no supplies or a weapon?" Effie whispered in his ear. Haymitch had been so engrossed in what was happening on the screen that he hadn't even noticed her approaching him. He turned his head halfway in her direction and gave her a quick glance.

Effie held up well. Her emotions were carefully hidden behind the cheerful mask she had been wearing since entering the lounge, and her tone alone told Haymitch that she was worried. Justifiable concern. "She'll need water. There's none in the wasteland, and her clothes aren't exactly suited to the tundra. She'll have no choice but to run toward the jungle."

The tributes all wore black trousers, a long-sleeved brown shirt, a softshell jacket and leather boots. The jacket wouldn't provide sufficient protection from the cold unless you went into the rainforest. The Careers wouldn't need long to come to this conclusion.

"It is our job to improve their chances," Effie finally said after a short silence with her usual determination. "We should introduce ourselves to the first sponsors before the other teams get there first."

Haymitch didn't tell her that the other teams of course already knew the sponsors. Just because she was new didn't mean that everyone around her was. He held back the comment because Effie probably wouldn't have listened. All he could manage was a brief nod. Now that the adrenaline was draining from his veins, the paralyzing feeling of emptiness returned to his chest. Every fiber of his body groaned for another drink. He wanted to go to Chaff and drink himself into unconsciousness.

Instead, Effie sent him to some sponsor who was known to occasionally support an outer District. To his relief, he wasn't one of those slimy, self-centered, deviant men who had the mindset of wanting to buy anything and everything with their money. Still, he was part of the elite, and Haymitch wasn't fooled. His willingness to support the Hunger Games financially was enough to make him question his morals, no matter how kind and understanding he was toward the young victor.

Haymitch made an effort to engage the old man in real conversation, as Effie would have done. He told him about the children and their hidden talents, even cracking a joke or two here and there to win over the sponsor. It didn't change the fact that this year, despite Ramon's outstanding interview, he didn't have a spark of interest in 12. A few hours after the start, Haymitch was back at the bar, on the same stool he had been sitting on earlier, sipping a black liquid that was unfamiliar even to him.

There were now eight deaths in the arena, all at the hands of one of the Career tributes. After the bloodbath at the Cornucopia had ended, they had started to gather what useful supplies they could take with them for their hunt. They couldn't stay on the mountain, the team of 1, 2 and 4 agreed on that. The boy from 4 had fallen victim to the magma flow when he had tried to corner another tribute at the edge of the river. So, in addition to the five Career tributes, there were still eleven other teenagers left. Elowen and most of the others were on their way into the jungle, which the first were now slowly reaching. The girl had difficulty running long distances and had gradually switched to brisk walking. She was sweating and thirsty, but the earth was so dry that even the occasional trees she encountered were barren and dead. A strong wind had started to blow, making it difficult for her to put one foot in front of the other. It was draining her even more. Haymitch could only hope that she would have no trouble finding shelter once she reached the jungle.

Ramon, on the other hand, had taken a completely different direction. He had ventured to the tundra and was wandering among large, broad fir trees, looking for water. It wasn't cold enough for snow to fall, but even here an icy wind blew, making him shiver. Now that he was alone and far away from any human soul, the arrogance and self-control had vanished from his eyes. Frustration sparkled in his brown pupils. If he was angry about having chosen the forest, he was too proud to return to the wasteland. Otherwise, not much was happening in the arena. Most of the tributes tried to put as much distance between themselves and the Careers as possible .

The people in the lounge were getting louder, more boisterous and wilder with each passing hour. They were talking loudly, laughing and dancing, while throwing their money around. Haymitch couldn't see Effie anywhere, but that didn't surprise him. There were two more floors, one of them outside above him. He certainly wouldn't go around looking for her. What would that serve anyway? After all, Effie assumed he was still looking for sponsors, like she probably was right now.

As Haymitch's tired and resigned eyes scanned the colorful, ridiculous people around him, he spotted Chaff, slouching as he crossed the entrance on the left side of the lounge. The victor from District 11 wandered with a grim expression, looking as though he had no idea what he was doing there. He looked exactly how Haymitch felt. Haymitch waved his friend over to the bar with a lift of his glass. Chaff grinned as he approached. "Already given up?"

Haymitch shrugged and took a sip from the drink in his hand. "Turns out, negotiating with sponsors isn't one of my strengths. Who would've thought?"

Chaff let out his raspy laugh and gave him a pat on the back with his stump as he took a seat next to him at the bar. He hadn't bothered to dress up, instead wearing his usual comfortable clothes. Haymitch didn't ask about it — it meant that Chaff had already lost both of his tributes.

"Your Effie won't be too happy to see you here," his friend teased, ordering a drink.

"She's not my Effie," Haymitch grumbled, staring deeper into his glass, which he swirled in his hand, creating a small whirlpool in the center of the dark liquid.

"Oh really? I was watching you and it looked different to me," Chaff replied, a more serious tone in his voice. He still sounded overly cheerful, but Haymitch was not fooled.

"Watching? You just showed up here."

Chaff's sadistic smile spread from ear to ear, as if he couldn't wait to tell Haymitch his next words. "And yet I've already heard every detail of your exciting encounter with Crane. You've got it on with the Capitols this year, haven't you?"

"That guy is disgustingly good at what he does," Haymitch muttered angrily, and Seneca's smug smile flashed before his eyes. The man knew he had the room at his feet, and he knew how to use it to his advantage.

"Just be careful where you get yourself into, buddy. Who knows what's really going on in that girl's head." Chaff gulped down the contents of his drink without batting an eyelid. He had no idea what the Avox had served him. But Haymitch could understand him. Two losses in one day weren't unusual for either of them. Their children were usually the first to die.

"You don't have to tell me that." Haymitch sounded dissatisfied. "If you want to keep criticizing my life, you can go straight back to Mags and tell her to shut up. The wrong people will end up hearing about it."

Another loud laugh erupted from Chaff's throat as he slammed his good hand flat on the counter. "In the end, Crane himself will end up hearing about it. I'd love to see that. You and Crane fighting over Trinket's ass."

Haymitch snorted and swallowed the rest of his drink. The Avox behind the bar didn't hesitate as he refilled his glass. "Keep dreaming."

oOo

In the arena, evening was slowly drawing to a close. The sun was beginning to set behind the cold forests to the west and the first tributes were setting up camp. However, since most of them were still out in the wasteland, it was not difficult to spot them from a distance. Some climbed the few barren trees that protruded from the dry earth to seek shelter. Others lit small fires, the smoke from which rose high into the air and only thanks to the approaching darkness didn't alarm everyone within a radius of several miles. At the moment they didn't have to fear the Careers, since they were still waiting at the Cornucopia, but it was stupid, nonetheless.

Elowen hadn't yet stopped walking. She reached the jungle, which appeared before her like a straight line of tropical trees, a few hours before nightfall. She walked towards the forest without waiting or looking around for danger, and seconds later she stepped into the quicksand, the same colour as the rest of the earth around it. The girl stumbled and fell to the ground, but nimbly picked herself up when she realised what the ground was giving way to. For several agonising minutes she struggled with her feet, which only dragged them further into the sand. According to Caesar Flickerman, it wasn't deep enough to pull a tribute completely into it, but one was an easy victim.

When Elowen realized that her vehement struggle would not achieve anything, she changed her strategy. Haymitch watched with relief as she freed her feet from her boots and maneuvered herself back to her starting position without much up and down movement . Only when she was back on solid ground did she dare to fish her boots out of the sand, which were now no longer pulled in as they no longer bore any weight. Admittedly, Haymitch was surprised that she had not panicked, as he had predicted. From now on, she approached the obstacle that separated her from the rainforest with more foresight and tested the ground before venturing forward. Almost half an hour later, she finally reached the jungle and climbed the first tree that was suitable for her petite stature due to its branches. She settled into one of the lower branches and cautiously surveyed her surroundings. The dense treetops, towering another ten meters or more above her, allowed little moonlight to filter through the canopy, making her sight of little help. Aside from the distant chatter of birds and the chirping of insects in the underbrush, the rainforest around Elowen was steeped in silence.

"It is late," a voice whispered in Haymitch's ear, making the victor jump. It really was late. He realized it by the way the alcohol had steadily climbed through his system. Chaff had left him an hour ago to return to the Training Center, since the Games were effectively over for him, and Effie had been absent for the rest of the day as well. "How did it go for you?"

Haymitch took a moment to snap out of his trance. His limbs ached, and he wondered how long he had been staring at the giant screen without truly registering what he was watching. He had only wanted to make sure Elowen and Ramon were doing well, which, fortunately, they were. Ramon, a clever boy, had stolen the sleeping bag from the twelve-year-old tribute from District 5 while she had drunk from a stream. That girl likely wouldn't live much longer — perhaps she'd even freeze to death — but Haymitch didn't have the luxury of dwelling on it or feeling bad.

"Not so good," he said, slowly turning his head in Effie's direction. "And you?"

Effie looked tired. She tried to form a small smile, but it seemed too exhausted for her eyes to reach her. "Then I guess I do not have any good news to bring. I just managed to persuade a nice lady to send Ramon one of those mini-packages if he survives the night."

The first thought that crossed Haymitch's mind was what a mini-package might be. But then his eyes widened in surprise. "You got us a sponsor?" The alcohol made him clumsy and Effie had to grab his arm as he jumped up from the bar stool.

Effie smiled slightly. "There is only one and she offers us almost nothing."

"That's more than District 12 can say since my victory, princess," he replied, and the honest pride in his voice brought a blush to her cheeks.

"There is still a lot of work ahead of us, but let us call it a night," Effie suggested, linking her arm with his, likely more as support for him. "At this hour, people are not interested in discussing business anymore. Besides, you do not seem to be in the best shape."

"I haven't drunk that much," Haymitch replied, pulling his arm free from Effie's grasp to prove his point. She raised her eyebrows, sighed, and reluctantly followed him as he made his way back to the elevators. But it was true: his sense of balance was good enough to get him from the lounge to the black car waiting for them in the basement of the skyscraper.

Haymitch dozed off as soon as the car started moving. Every fiber of his body was exhausted. Yet he didn't flinch when Effie touched his shoulder far too soon. His sleep was too light for that. He couldn't risk falling into a deep sleep in her presence. "We are here," she whispered into the darkness, and he mumbled a reply that neither he nor she could understand.

The lights of the parking garage were too bright, and Haymitch had to squint to make out anything as he followed Effie's bright yellow figure to the elevator. He let out a quiet sigh as they finally left the harsh neon lights behind. His body felt as if it were made of lead; every step was a challenge. He shouldn't have had that last drink, as it was now taking its toll, making each of his movements more imprecise. The familiar fog, which had been lingering at the edges of his vision, pressed in further.

"It is really your own fault, you know that, do you not?" Effie gave him a look that was half reproachful, half smiling. She stood at the elevator door and watched him struggle to hold on to the railing as the elevator shot up.

"You don't say," Haymitch replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes theatrically. "I really needed it." The smile faded from Effie's face as she looked down at her feet. Haymitch hadn't intended to bring her down, but after everything they'd talked about last night, he wasn't surprised at how quickly the satisfaction left her expression. The young victor sighed. "Stop feeling bad about it."

"What else am I supposed to do? I cannot just forget it," Effie responded, stepping closer to him as the elevator doors opened and linking her arm with his. Haymitch let her, even though he was still capable of walking unaided.

"You're not supposed to forget it; keep it in mind," he said, glancing at her sideways. After nearly twelve hours, even Effie Trinket's makeup was no longer perfect. The redness in her cheeks had started to show through the layers of powder, and her mascara had left small clumps under her eyelashes. Her lipstick must have been reapplied several times, as it looked just as fresh as it had at the beginning of the day. She looked much prettier this way, Haymitch had to admit against his will. Much more human. Much more like the woman she was beneath all the layers of clothing and makeup. "But don't let your feelings depend on it. It happened; your sulking won't change that."

"I just cannot warp my head around it," Effie said quietly, trying to walk straight. Haymitch took a little amusement in leaning half his weight on her. She didn't complain. "The thought of what she did to you ... I am not a violent person, but it angers me quite a lot."

"You've hit me in the face once and kicked me between the legs once in the last two weeks, sweetheart. If that's not violent, I don't know what is," Haymitch snorted, unable to suppress a grin.

Effie shot him a withering look and lifted her chin. "I have apologized. Even though you deserved it, both times."

"Where are your manners?" Haymitch poorly mimicked her Capitol accent. She sighed inwardly and came to a halt. For a moment, he feared she'd had enough of his drunken behavior, but then he realized they had already arrived at his room.

"And just so you know: I do not sulk," she said, detaching herself from him and crossing her arms over her chest, her chin held high in her typical arrogant manner.

"Oh, but you are." Haymitch smirked and took a step toward her, only to raise his eyebrows.

"Is everything alright?" The feigned superiority in Effie's eyes faded into a worry that should have set off all of Haymitch's alarm bells. Under normal circumstances, this would have been the time to make a hasty exit. But Haymitch had been past that point for a few days now.

Haymitch took another staggering step toward her, stepping into her personal space. With her monstrous shoes, her wig loomed a little over his head, and he looked at the synthetic hair for a moment before raising his left hand and taking one of the yellow strands that protruded from under the enormous hat between his fingers. "I don't understand how you can wear something like that. Your real hair looks so much better."

The dimmed nightlight in the hallway made Effie's dilated pupils seem darker than they actually were. It was strange to be at eye level with her, and yet Haymitch felt closer to her than usual. Her cheeks took on a warm tone and she lowered her gaze, embarrassed. "In your world, perhaps, but not in mine."

"Then come into my world," Haymitch said, regretting the words the second they left his mouth. The alcohol was playing tricks on him. It was coursing through his veins and only making things more complicated than they already were.

Haymitch let go of Effie's wig and took several steps back until he felt the door behind him. He was acting like an idiot. This morning he had told her not to play with him and now he was standing here, throwing himself at the Capitol's feet of his own free will. What had gotten into him? He had wanted to end this dance on a knife edge and now he was voluntarily pushing his way back onto the dance floor.

"It's late, I should go to sleep." The warmth in Haymitch's voice had disappeared. He had turned back into the cold, unapproachable man he should have remained.

Effie's face was expressionless. Her lips were pressed together, but she hadn't broken eye contact with him. Regret was reflected in her eyes. Regret and a conflict that she seemed to be fighting out in her head. Then both emotions disappeared in an instant and were replaced by an expression that Haymitch had never seen before and couldn't interpret.

Her feet took a hesitant step toward him and something in Haymitch's fingers began to tingle. "I don't know what this is either," Effie whispered into the silence between them that seemed to eliminate every other sound like a vacuum, responding to what he had said to her that morning. "But if you think I have feelings for Seneca, you're wrong."

All Haymitch could manage was a stunned raising of his eyebrows as Effie leaned forward and kissed him directly on the mouth. No more excuses. No more pretenses. Just the truth. It felt like a lightning bolt coursing through his bones as her lips met his. Unlike their first kiss, this one was soft and tentative. The scent of flowers rose to his nose, reminding him again of the meadows behind his old house in the Seam. Something in Haymitch's heart clenched and then released in the same moment. Was it a coincidence that she sometimes reminded him more of District 12 than the Capitol?

Effie's hands gently cradled his face as they became one person for a few seconds. The fog in Haymitch's head was now stronger than before. She had unsettled him so much with her words that he had just started to regain his composure when she pulled away.

The need for her presence made it difficult for him not to reach for her arms and pull her back to him. But Haymitch was still too overwhelmed, too surprised that she had taken this step. Effie knew that it wouldn't have been unlikely for him to reject her. And yet, she had dared to cross that invisible barrier that had stood between them since their first encounter.

"Goodnight, Haymitch," was all Effie said before she turned and headed to her own room, a small smile playing on her lips.

Haymitch couldn't help but stare after her, smirking.

-

I'm just gonna leave this here ;) Let me know what you think! 

Skyllen