Dead. They're both dead.

Their families are shattered. Their lovers are heartbroken. Their lives are ended.

And it's all my fault.

I stumble into the first room I see, guilt hammering at my heart and anger hammering at my mind. What is wrong with these Capitol people? How could they force two children to die each year? How can they force this pain on their loved ones and their mentors? I swear it, when I see President Snow again I'll-

"Ah, Mr. Abernathy. How kind of you to join me."

Blood and roses.

"President Snow," I say blankly, meeting his serpentine gaze. That's all the greeting he'll get out of me.

"You don't look well, Haymitch, my boy. Why don't you have a drink?" He gestures with sickening suavity to a glass of blood red liquid. I'm immediately on high alert.

"Oh, honestly, relax!" Snow feigns a chuckle. "What do you think I've done, poisoned it?" He pours himself some of the stuff and drinks it right in front of me.

Against my better judgement, I take a sip.

The drink tastes a little bitter, but it spreads a wave of warmth through my entire body. I sigh almost blissfully, and he smiles at my reaction. Bares his teeth is more like it. "Here, have some more," he says. And I do.

I begin to think something is wrong when I feel a buzzing in the back of my skull. Maybe it was poisoned, but there was only a little in each sip. Maybe I needed to have this much for it to be lethal, and now it's too late.

At the very least, the stuff's disoriented me, and the president is sure to take advantage of it. I try to back away from Snow, but I stagger. The world spins sickeningly. What's happening to me?

And then I notice something miraculous. I can't remember.

I know I was angry about something only a little while ago. Very angry. Very guilty. But I have no idea what it was. And who cares, anyway? Let bygones be bygones, right?

The president seems to notice my unsteadiness. "Oh, don't worry, it'll pass," he says sympathetically.

Heck, I hope not.

"I'm okay," I assure him, but the sound of my voice is distant and slurred. Hmm. Must be some kind of side effect. As if it mattered. Nothing matters. Because I can't remember.

I could lose myself in this feeling forever. "Thanks Mr. President," I add, feeling light as a feather as I stagger heavily out the door.

I receive a knowing smirk in return. "Any time, Mr. Abernathy. Any time."

***

I remember that day. I'm still feeling guilty. Because now it's not two. It's forty two. Been a long time, huh? A lotta deaths. Those are things I don't care to remember.

I sigh, and take another sip.

A/N: I know, I know. President Snow is SO my scapegoat for everything. Even Haymitch's alcohol addiction XD But that wasn't really the point. I think that in his 'golden years', Haymitch would have been a pretty big rebel. And Snow would have had to think of SOME way to keep him from acting up....