The water crashed against the 48 pedestals almost rhythmically, hitting the metal every five seconds and splashing onto the top. Clearly, an extra spark from the game makers- make the pedestals nice and slippery, cause the balance to disrupted. On second thought, maybe it wasn't a plan from the game makers: maybe it was courtesy of President Snow himself. At the very thought of the man, Haymitch Abernathy's lips curled up into a displeased snarl before he let his gray eyes roam around the circle of his fellow victors, some part of the special alliance formed to keep one special girl alive, others clear enemies. Having been a mentor for years (though taking that job not at all seriously considering tributes from twelve were typically the first ones to be killed off) Haymitch had watched many of these victors play in the arena, and again many of them he had watched before being reaped for the games himself. He had made special note to study the specialties that each victor had, wanting to make sure that he wouldn't be caught off guard when protecting Katniss. He had briefed her on the other victors as well, making sure that she knew who to worry about and who would not be a threat.

Thinking of Katniss caused his dark hues to flicker over to her, taking in the sight of the girl that- for some odd reason- set him on edge, though not in a bad way. Something about her made things...almost barable, and being her mentor had brought an ounce of life into the man who had spent the majority of his life since winning his games locked up in his home, drinking away all of his sorrows and fears. A crazy old drunkard, not at all a mentor to be taken seriously. That was what everyone thought of him, and it was a stereotype that he proudly played into. Why wouldn't he? He had nothing else to care for, and getting attached to any of the tributes he would mentor would only bring him that much more pain.

Haymitch had already lost his family, having had them ripped from him and callously murdered by the one and only President Snow shortly after he won his games. It had been a punishment- punishment for using the force field around the arena as a means of survival, punishment for humiliating the capitol in front of each of the twelve districts. Watching two children from his district being so violently killed each year, it was just another reminder of how much control Snow and the capitol held over the entirety of Panem. It was as if he were being forced to watch his family be murdered over and over again.

When the 74th Hunger Games had rolled around, Haymitch had once again pledged not to create a bond with the two tributes from District Twelve, however he had slipped up and begun to care for them, both of them, but particularly Katniss Everdeen. The capitol proclaimed Girl on Fire was so reserved, so independent yet fiercely protect over those she cared for. She was hardly what anyone could call a 'people person' and she wasn't someone who made herself easily liked. In her, however, the typically drunk mentor had seen himself. Their personalities were so similar, usually causing them to clash and be at each other's throats for one reason or another. He assumed that their similarities were what helped Haymitch bond with her, even if in the beginning he had little hope that she would come out alive. When she had proved him wrong and, not only won the games but also managed to keep her fellow tribute alive as well, his keenness on her grew. He managed to make a friend out of her and Peeta.

So when the Quarter Quell rolled around and it was announced that one male and one female victor from each district would enter the arena, Haymitch had sworn to himself that he would enter the arena with Katniss. Sworn to himself that, if Peeta's name was drawn he would volunteer, if only to be able to be in the arena with her and protect her- not that she needed it.

Surely enough Peeta's name had been the one to be drawn and, without a moment's hesitation, Haymitch had volunteered. For a moment he wondered if his eagerness to be a tribute would potentially cause issues. But how could it? No one but Haymitch knew about his fondness for Katniss, not even her. And it was a fondness that he was pretty positive the girl did not return. Little did he know, President Snow was aware, and it was him that had created the idea for the Quarter Quell. His objective? To disprove the so-called romance between the girl on fire and the baker's son. Even worse now, shortly before the victors were placed in the arena it had been announced that Katniss was carrying the child of Peeta Mellark. Clearly Snow was hoping that, in the various life-threatening situations the two would be in, that some sort of slip up would occur. A slip-up that would be broadcasted to each of the twelve districts and show that Katniss Everdeen was nothing more than a fraud.

Haymitch blinked as the countdown came to a close, bringing his eyes up to meet Katniss's, he dove into the water and made pace through the waves before pulling himself up onto the cornucopia, scrambling to grab not only knives for himself but the bow and various sheaths of arrows for Katniss.

The night before the Quarter Quell, Katniss had lied wide awake in her single, twin bed at her cottage home in Victor's Village. Even though she had always had trouble sleeping since the Games, she felt blank that she had to go through another and once again, Peeta was in trouble but she had counted and gone through the motions with Haymitch. She had this. She wouldn't have that self-confidence if it weren't for her mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. A drunkard but yet somehow full of wisdom. It was hot and cold with him a lot but she always knew and would reminded herself that since the beginning, he was looking out for her despite having displayed such standoffish behavior; they were similar in their sense of self-independence and grit. As she rolled over to her side, pushing away her tousled waves of brown hair and pulling over the white sheets, she laughed as her eyes wandered on the wooden floor she stared down at, sleeping close to the edge, on golden moments of Haymitch supporting her through and through the Games. His rakish-charmed smile and striking, unforgettable irises that only someone from the Seam could pluck them from a crowd of people.

Peeta taught her a lot about being kind, selfless, and having a heart in such a broken and run-down world that was Panem, just like Prim. However, Haymitch taught her what she believes to be the most important trait in someone: faith, hope. Maybe that was just Haymitch's role of doing his part in mentoring her and Peeta but how he'd express it was always on a personal level that came from a place of empathy in Haymitch's hardened heart. Although he was mentor for them both, Katniss couldn't shake away the suspicion that she's been the one receiving more attention from him.

Sure.

She was The Girl on Fire and Peeta was, for a lack of a better word, the victim in all of this mess.

Despite that, Peeta did provide her a lot of comfort but she was liking the ability of being able to rely on someone outside of her inner circle; she hadn't any other friends besides Gale, Peeta, and her sister, but to have Haymitch was like being in a safe house where she could openly discuss what was dwelling on her mind and always receiving nothing but the truth, no sugar-coating, and motivation attached to it too. It was... refreshing. Katniss was never good at making friends and she had a lot to be grateful to for Haymitch. There was Cinna too but due to their professionalism, things always had to be kept "hush hush". Regardless, she always felt the love from him when they'd see each other. It was as if he were filling both her absent-minded mother's shoes and her truly absent father's too.

She squinted her eyes hard wishing that things would turn out as planned tomorrow.

After she had her enough rest, she cleaned around the house, and soon, the fashion team was on time on getting her prepped. Through the peak of the windows where her top bathroom was where her mother was quietly arranging her hair with Effie watching and complimenting Katniss's locks, she caught a glance of Haymitch stretching about in the hallways of his home, a small smile crossed her mouth when he shagged his bed hair and drank some orange juice.

Thankfully and much to Katniss's ease, Haymitch volunteered in his admirable fiercely loyal trademark as he stood beside her, her eyes glowed with gratefulness and determination, confident that with him by her side they would win. She jumped when he felt his rough fingertips make contact with his skin as he held her hand tightly and in unison, they did the salute. Much to his surprise, she gripped his hand tightly with spirit.

Everything had passed like the rapid water waves that were before the platform she stood on.

Once the canon shot, she dove into the water only focusing on the sound of her feet pounding -- one-two-three, one-two-three -- until she felt a strong hand grab her from her forearm at the Cornucopia, pulling her out of the water, her eyes passionately met Haymitch's and thanked him for the bow and arrows as she quickly strapped it around her and tapped him on his shoulder as she shouted instructions for them to get across shore.

"Haymitch, we need to get out of the Cornucopia, everyone's coming at us like sharks, come on!" she shouted as she carefully and with balance ran across the stone steps to the shore.

Haymitch gave a small nod as Katniss took the bow and arrows from him. For a moment, his eyes were locked on her. The way that her braided hair, drenched from the swim from the pedestal over to the cornucopia, had several fly away hairs. The way that the sun complimented her skin, making her gray eyes stand out. Perhaps the middle of the the initial blood bath wasn't the best time to be looking at the girl, to be taking such special note of her features and the way she looked so fierce standing in the midst of a battle, but he couldn't help it. It was only when Katniss spoke that he pulled himself out of his own thoughts, that he moved his gaze from Katniss over to where the district one victors stood, staring them down.

Gloss and Cashmere, the brother and sister duo. Haymitch had run the idea of an alliance by them shortly before the game started, and he had already known their answer. The career tributed didn't typically ally themselves with outsiders, with those from non-career districts. Instead they preferred to stick to themselves, to rule the arena and, when it finally came down to it, turn on each other, providing the capitol with quite the entertaining and violently bloody battle. The pair must have decided that waiting to go after the two victors from twelve was not the best idea because, within minutes, they were running towards them, weapons drawn and ready to kill. Haymitch didn't have time to say anything, didn't have time to warn Katniss before an ax was thrown, swiftly connecting with Cashmere's neck and severing her head. The shock on Gloss's face was clear when he skidded to a stop and turned to his decapitated sister. His guard was down for only a second but it was enough for another victor to be able to impale him with a golden trident.

The canons signalling the death of the two victors sounded and Haymitch immediately glanced over to the man with the trident, Finnick Odair. He gave a nod of thanks before shifting his focus to Johanna Mason, the girl who had delivered the fatal blow to Cashmere. Each of the victors, from district four and district seven respectively, had joined the rebel alliance. They had sworn to do what Haymitch had sworn to do: protect the mockingjay. Of course, their reasons for wanting to keep her alive differed from his reasons. They needed her in the fight against the capitol, they needed her as the sign of rebellion. Haymitch, while he did what to protect her for those reasons, also had a few of his own. Most notably of these reasons was the fact that he wasn't sure that he would survive were she to.die, and this was something that played a huge role in his decision to volunteer in Peeta's place.

Haymitch, having been forced to watch Katniss play through her first games, unable to do anything to help her while she was in the arena, did not think that he would be able to bear sitting on the sidelines once more. He felt the overwhelming need to be with her in the arena, to be there to guard her and keep her alive- not that she wasn't completely capable of doing that herself. Moving his gaze back to Katniss he spoke, "You're certainly right, sweetheart. You were inches away from being murdered by a career," he informed her before taking off in a run. He stopped at the edge of the cornucopia, staring into the trees as he debated which way to go. Finally, with a nudge from another victor, he grabbed Katniss's hand and led her east, dropping her hand before taking off at a run once again. It wasn't until they were deep into the forest that Haymitch stopped running.

He put a hand against the rough bark of a tree trunk, his body slightly bent over as he caught his breath. Once his composure had been regained he pulled the small bag he had picked up upon reaching the shore and pulled it open. Inside was various items for survival, but the one that caught Haymitch's attention was a silver flask. The flask was something that had clearly been put out in order to carry water, but the older male's mind went straight to alcohol. Opening the flask and tilting it to test for any potential contents, he found it to be empty and sighed.

"Do you think Peeta will be able to get a sponsor to send me some spirits?" He mused aloud, half joking. "Going so long without it in here is going to drive me mad." His eyes lifted towards the sky where he raised the flask. "Hear that? Send me some alcohol!"