Story Title: Fragile Lines

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Maysilee Donner. District Partner. Enemy. Ally. Friend. Lover. Haymitch Abernathy struggles to draw the lines and keep them there. The story of the 50th Hunger Games and district 12's original star crossed lovers.

Pairings: Haymitch/Maysilee, Haymitch/OC

Rating: T (for the moment) Warning, will probably get bloody. Very bloody. Also, some of this material won't be the happiest. Haymitch is a troubled soul.

Other: Slight AU. Following Suzanne Collins's basic plot for the 50th Hunger Games but some elements will be changed.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of Suzanne Collins's pre-imagined characters or events. I do however own any OCs, as well as the ins and outs of this plot, since I'm not following canon exactly.

A/N: Heyy everyone, here's the beginnings of that Haymitch/Maysilee story I promised. Not sure how often I'll update, but I'm really enjoying this pairing so far, so we'll see. For those who faithfully follow my other stories, don't worry, I'm not giving up, I just needed a little break. I will finish Suffering on the Sidelines, I promise, and I'm also working on a sequel to Annie's Story. Anyway, back to Fragile Lines... basically, this is going to be the 50th Hunger Games as I like to have imagined them. That means that, although the main elements will still be here, it is a little AU. The romance will play a larger role although at the moment I don't plan on changing Haymitch's being the only victor. That would be selling out ;)

Anyway, enough chatter and on with the story! Please leave a review and let me know what you think of the Haymitch I've created here.

CHAPTER ONE

"Haymitch." My kid brother shakes my shoulder. "Haymitch, wake up."

I feign sleep, hoping Theo might leave me alone and I'd be able to stay in bed and pretend today is just another normal day. In reality, I'm wide awake, sleep having escaped me for most of the night.

"Haymitch." Theo shakes me harder, his voice rising in pitch a little. "Please." Sensing the desperation in his tone, I open one eye. He's knelt on my bed, leaning over me, his face drawn up in anguish. "Haymitch, it's today."

I open the other eye and struggle to my elbows. My little clock on the bedside table catches my eye and I let out a groan.

"God, Theo," I say. "It's only four o'clock."

He shrinks back a little.

"I know," he says in a small voice. "But it's today and I can't sleep."

I wipe a tired hand across my face.

"I know, kiddo," I say. "But it's gonna be okay, you know that right?"

"They're gonna pick four kids, Haymitch," Theo says with a sniff. I sit up properly, shuffling over in bed and holding back the covers.

"Get in." He obeys. "Look," I carry on quietly. "Your name is only in there six times." I fight the frown. I'm still angry that my dad made Theo apply for tesserae this year. "There are hundreds and hundreds of pieces of paper in that bowl. The chance of them picking your name is so small it doesn't even exist."

"What about you?" Theo asks. "Your name is in there twenty times."

Twenty five actually, but I don't correct him.

"Still," I say, wrapping my arm around him and giving him a squeeze. "That's nothing, really, is it?"

"No," he admits grudgingly.

"Right, so there's nothing to worry about." I give him a grin. "And I heard mom say yesterday that she's making apple pie for pudding tonight." As I had hoped, Theo smiles.

"Bagsy biggest piece," he chimes and I chuckle.

"Okay, kiddo," I say. "Biggest slice goes to you."

He lets out a little sigh of contentment and leans into my chest. But then he goes all silent and I know he's still absolutely terrified.

"It'll be okay, Theo," I say softly. "I promise."

...

Theo stays in my bed, and, obviously comforted by either my words or my presence, falls back to sleep pretty quickly. I, however, can't seem to be able to. Theo keeps kicking me and I can't stop my mind from racing at a hundred miles an hour. All I can think about is the Reaping and the fact that because it's the Quarter Quell, they're going to be sending four kids from each district into that arena. How the Capitol can think sending twice the amount of kids to their deaths is a form of celebration though is beyond me.

What if if it's my name they pick out of that bowl? Or worse, Theo's. And what about my girlfriend? Robyn has three younger sisters, all of whom she's taken out tesserae for, which, including tesserae for her parents, means her name is in the Reaping bowl thirty five times.

Dammit. What if it's all three of us?

In the end, I can't stand lying in that bed – staring up at the ceiling, listening to Theo's steady breathing – any longer. Just after sunrise, I slide out of bed, taking great care not wake my little brother, and head into the other room. My dad is still slumped on the rickety camp bed my parents share, but my mom is at the table doing some sewing.

"Morning ma," I collapse into the chair opposite her. She looks up with a weary smile.

"Morning, sweetie," she takes in my shadowed eyes and her expression grows concerned. "Trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah. Theo woke me up pretty early. I let him sleep in my bed, but damn," I give an exaggerated groan. "That kid kicks."

Ma smiles fondly.

"Is he still asleep?"

"Yep." I rest my elbows on the table, watching her fingers work over and over at her darning. It's strangely calming actually.

Eventually, though, her eyes lift to meet mine.

"It'll be okay, honey."

"That's what I keep telling Theo," I rest my chin in my hand. "But I'm not sure I believe it."

Mom sighs.

"I wish neither of you needed tesserae," she says sadly, her eyes creeping towards my snoring father. I don't reply at first. What can I say? What can I do? What can my mom do?

You see, my dad, he's an alcoholic. A raging alcoholic. Always got some kind of stiff liquor in the house, never ever running low. No matter how bad it gets, no matter how little food we can afford, my dad always has a bottle. Or twelve. He'll trade anything, spend anything to get alcohol. One winter me and my brother had to go to school every day in three feet of snow without coats. We simply couldn't afford them.

Funny. My dad never went without a drink that winter.

"Hopefully he'll drink himself to death sometime soon," I mutter darkly. Mom shoots me a look and I subside with a roll of my eyes. From the bed on the other side of the room, dad lets out a loud, nasal snore. I feel my hands curl into fists.

"Momma?" Theo appears out of the bedroom, wearing my coat over his pyjamas. I smile at him over her shoulder.

"Cold?"

He gives me a sheepish grin.

"Yeah."

"You alright, sweetie?" Mom asks him. "It's still quite early." He trudges over to sit next to her.

"I know," he yawns. "I woke up and Haymitch was gone, so I couldn't get back to sleep."

"Sorry, kiddo," I say.

My dad chooses that moment to lift his head. His eyes are bloodshot.

"Is the Reaping over yet?" he slurs and I'm suddenly furious.

"No," I sneer. "Go back to sleep."

"Don't cheek me, kid." He growls, floundering a little on the bed as he struggles to sit up. "Or I'll come over and skin you like a rabbit."

"You know I might be worried," I say scathingly. "If you could actually stand."

"Haymitch," Ma says softly. "Please."

I ignore her. I'm on a roll now, blazing like a forest fire.

"One day, dad," I say angrily. "One day we need you to be there for us and you can't even manage that."

He stares at me – stumped, still drunk as a skunk – just like the idiot he is.

"Just forget it," I get to my feet abruptly, the chair shooting backwards, the scrape echoing around the room. "I'm going out."

"Where?" Ma is aghast.

"Just out," I snap back, stalking off across the room. I pause in the doorway and turning back, give my dad the fiercest glare I can muster. "Don't worry," I hiss. "I'll be back in time for the Reaping. Wouldn't want to miss a chance to get out of this hell hole, would I?"

And with that, I storm out of the house, slamming the door shut behind me.

...

"Reaping day is not a good day to get into arguments with your family." Robyn rests her head on my shoulder. "You never know what's going to happen."

We're sitting on the front steps of her porch, watching the Seam slowly come to life. Although it's the Reaping and everyone gets the day off, there are still chores to do and errands to run, and people are beginning to get on with their day. You can tell the people who've got kids of reaping age. Their faces are haggard and their eyes restless. I kind of feel sorry for them until I remember that I am a kid of reaping age.

"I don't care," I declare in a tone that dares Robyn to question me. "My dad is a prat."

She leans back to look up at me, her eyes sympathetic.

"He's got his good points."

I let out a grunt.

"Uh. Right."

She lets out a little laugh, reaching up to cup my face, her grey eyes mirthful.

"You're such a grumpy old git, Haymitch," she says, smiling widely. I catch her hand in mine and turn my head to press a kiss to her palm.

"And you're such a charmer, aren't ya sweetheart?"

She laughs again and for a second, I forget it's the Reaping today, I forget that one of us – or even both of us – could end up dead in less than two week's time, it's just a normal day; a normal, almost happy moment.

And then I remember and the moment's gone. The smile slips from my face and I bring our hands back down between us, our fingers interlocking. Robyn must have the same feeling as me because the corners of her lips suddenly turn downwards and her head ducks.

"How was Elsie doing this morning?" I ask her gently, pulling her back into my arms.

"Not good," she says, her voice a little muffled by my jacket. "She was pretty scared." Elsie is Robyn's second youngest sister. She just turned twelve a month ago.

"How about you?" I venture.

"I'm pretty scared too," she whispers.

There is a moment of silence and we just sit there, locked in each other's embrace, contemplating. My fingers trace patterns on her hip.

"I'll tell you a secret, Rob," I say eventually, pressing my nose into her hair. "I'm scared as well."

"What?" she asks and I can tell by her voice that she's smiling, even if it's probably not a very happy smile. "The Great Haymitch Abernathy. Scared?"

"Uh huh," I say. "But tell anyone and I'd have to kill you." There is a little silence and I realise my joke is in poor taste. "God. I'm such an idiot."

She giggles although it's a little too strained and not at all like her usual infectious laugh.

"You're right about that, Abernathy," she says. I mock tut, giving her a quick, tight squeeze.

"You're getting far too cheeky for your own good, sweetheart."

In the distance, the clock tower chimes, signalling it's probably time for me to go home and get ready. I drop a kiss on Robyn's dark head.

"I'd best be going."

"Okay," she says, leaning back and slipping from my embrace. I notice her hand creep up to fiddle restlessly with her braid.

"Hey," I reach out and catch her wrist. "Stop it. It's going to be okay."

"You always say that," she says. "But how can you know?"

I think back to this morning, when Theo was sat in my bed and I told him it would be okay, and then when my mom told me the same thing at the table. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's like a damn mantra in our house. Everything's messed up right now, but it's going to be okay. It always is.

Until it's not.

My breath shudders through my teeth.

"I don't, Robyn, but it's all I've got."

...

Thanks for reading, and please review! xo