I volunteer as tribute.

The words had left his mouth before he could stop them and the hush that fell over the crowd was even more eerie that it had ever been before. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears and the uneven and ragged breathing coming from his own lungs. Their eyes burned into him like the heat of a thousand suns and for a moment he wondered if perhaps facing an arena full of bloodthirsty victors would be so bad compared to this.

Finally, the silence had been broken by Effie clearing her throat and he could feel the white hot anger rolling off of Peeta Mellark in violent waves. He didn't dare turn his head, not even a centimeter. For the first time in a very long time, Haymitch Abernathy felt uncomfortable.

That had been three whole hours ago and even now, his skin still burned. His face was hot and he had spent a good ten minutes trying to drown himself in the icy cold sink water, splashing it onto his cheeks and contorting his body just enough to shove his head beneath the faucet. None of it had worked and now he sat on the edge of his bed with a half-empty bottle of champagne in one hand and a damp towel in the other.

What in the hell had he been thinking? Well, that was the problem, actually. The problem was that he hadn't been thinking at all. He had jumped headfirst without bothering to hold his breath and already he could feel himself drowning. His lungs ached from the effort it took to breathe and his limbs were numb. He flexed his fingers around the neck of the bottle, securing his grip on the cool glass. The bottle was one thing he knew damn well he could – and would – never let go of. That was his security blanket and the only thing that kept him afloat…for now.

Haymitch brought the champagne to his lips to took another long swig, frowning as the sweet liquid spilled over his tongue and filled his mouth. He forced it down with a dramatic swallow and made a face. It was too bubbly and too sweet. He preferred something with a little less sugar and a lot more alcohol. He supposed he could resort to downing the mouthwash or something equally as pathetic, but he would save that for when he was truly desperate, which wouldn't be long if he kept this up.

A knock sounded on his door and before he could even clear his throat to answer, it flew open and he blinked at the silhouette looming in his doorway. He rolled his eyes, exasperated long before she even began her barrage of insults and he lifted the towel to dab half-heartedly at the bottom of his hair.

"Come in," his words were laced with heavy sarcasm and he exhaled as the door closed behind her. She planned to draw this out and he looked up, steeling himself for the blow.

Her round face was twisted into a look of pure disappointment and even as he searched for the anger and hatred in her grey eyes, he found that he could find none. That cut him far deeper than her words ever could and his shoulders sagged forward in obvious defeat.

"Why would you do that?" Her voice was barely above a whisper and he flinched as if she had just lashed out and struck him hard against the cheek.

"You asked me to-"

"I know I did," she cut him off, running a hand over her hair as she looked towards the ceiling. "I didn't expect to feel so guilty about it," Katniss admitted quietly.

"Well, I hate to break it to you but the damage has already been done. Guilt or no guilt, I can't turn around and take it back," he drained the remaining contents from the bottle and tossed it to the floor, watching as it rolled beneath a chair and came to a rest against the leg.

"Peeta is-"

"Furious? Enraged?" Haymitch arched an eyebrow as he forced himself to his feet, taking an extra moment to regain his balance before stepping towards her. "I know and I'm sure he'll be happy to sink his teeth in me the first chance he gets. But he'll get over it," the man shrugged.

"No, he won't. He wants to protect me. He's…" Katniss trailed off and looked towards the floor.

"Alright, maybe he won't. Either way, it doesn't matter. He can still keep you safe. He just has to work a little harder," Haymitch spared her the long-winded explanation. He had kept them both alive – for the most part. Sure, the majority of the credit went to Miss Everdeen and her complete disregard for the rules. But it had worked in his favor and his ability to milk the sponsors had given her the push she had needed.

They wouldn't get so lucky the second time around. The Quarter Quell was designed to eliminate them and preserve the power of the Capitol. It didn't take a genius to put those pieces of the puzzle together. With a rebellion on the horizon, Haymitch knew where he stood and he knew his role. His job was to keep Katniss alive at all costs and if keeping her alive meant also keeping Peeta alive, then that was exactly what he would do.

He moved past her to rummage through his things, searching for another bottle. He was going to need to pump himself full long enough to get him through at least one day in the arena. The other days he would have to take in stride, crossing each bridge as he came to them. It was too much to hope that they would humor him and drop a crate full of liquor at the start, he would have taken that before a weapon any day. But he knew better. They would take pleasure in his suffering, in all of their suffering. His lips twisted into a heavy scowl and he grumbled something incoherent under his breath.

"Thank you, Haymitch," her words caused him to pause and his spine went rigid as he straightened up, staring blankly at the wall across from him. Thank you. She had no reason to thank him and he didn't deserve her gratitude for much of anything at all. He had been her mentor and a companion when no one else was around on a few rare occasions. He had never been anything more and even then he had done a piss poor job at both of those things.

"For…what?" It was a stupid question and he turned around slowly, watching her stand awkwardly in the center of the room.

"I know you don't want to go back, but-"

"You don't know anything, kid," he was defensive and he looked away again, narrowing his eyes and nudging his discarded bottle with the toe of his shoe. That was a lie and he knew it too. Katniss knew far more than he gave her credit for. She had been dealt a bad hand, just like the rest of them. But the difference was that she chose to fight where he had given up.

"You're welcome," he said finally, his shoulders sagging forward again in defeat. There was another moment of silence and he heard her feet shuffle across the carpet towards the door.

"See you for dinner," Katniss said over her shoulder, letting the door close behind her, leaving Haymitch once more alone with only his thoughts for company. He looked down at the towel he still gripped in his hand and nodded.

"Yeah, see you."