AN; Sorry it has been a criminally long time since I last updated this, I've had so much on my plate, and I wanted to ensure I had finished and established a sequel to Love Will Set You Free so this took a bit of a back seat regrettably. I'm back though- so hopefully I won't ignore this any longer. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER; All HG goodness belongs to Suzanne Collins, OCs and plot belong to me.


A knife whizzed past Flossie's head and embedded itself in the door frame just inches away from her right temple. She shrieked in surprise as she ducked out of the way and tried to slow down her racing heart.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" Haymitch bellowed, before wincing in pain.

Haymitch was sprawled on the floor, his face was dishevelled and his blue/grey eyes bloodshot. Flossie could smell alcohol on him and she was at least 2 metres away.

"I-I, are you okay?" Flossie said noting the dried blood on Haymitch's shirt.

"No, I, get out!" Haymitch snarled. Flossie gritted her teeth and her stubbornness kicked in.

"You're hurt Mr Abernathy," Flossie said, trying to remain calm. Haymitch scoffed.

"It's just a scratch, now leave me alone," Haymitch said, attempting to stand up. Flossie rushed over to him as he fell back to the ground.

"I'm not leaving you until I treat you," Flossie said, a new tone of severity creeping into her voice. Flossie crouched over him, and reached into a backpack she always carried around with her.

"You know, I like it when women are tough with me sweetheart," Haymitch said darkly, before barking with laughter. Flossie glared at him, 'here he goes again' she thought to herself.

"Just shut up and hold still," Flossie said sternly before taking out a roll of bandages and herbs that she knew had antiseptic qualities. Her mother was a dab hand at healing, she had ran an apothecary shop alongside Mrs Everdeen. It had gone in to disrepair when Flossie mother died, but Mrs Everdeen still had some loyal customers. Flossie's mother had taught her all there was to know about the medicinal qualities of herbs and how to heal wounds.

"Fine, but can I ask why you were in my house, completely uninvited?" Haymitch said sighing.

"I came here to deliver your alcohol," Flossie said with distaste. "I was just about to leave when I heard you," Flossie continued, ignoring Haymitch's eyes light up when she mentioned alcohol.

"Where is it?" Haymitch asked.

"I'm not going to tell you until I've finished here," Flossie said strictly glaring at the drunken man.

"Oh come on sweetheart, don't be a spoil sport. I'm gasping for a drink," said Haymitch childishly Flossie's grey eyes narrowed into a fine line, silencing him.

"Well you're just going to have to wait then aren't you?" Flossie said, raising a strict brow.

Flossie started to get to work on healing Haymitch's wounds. She started to unbutton his shirt and jumped when Haymitch batted her hand away.

"Steady on sweetheart, you haven't even told me your name," Haymitch said with a playful glint in his eye. Flossie glared at him.

"Flossie," she replied. "Now let me get to your wound," she continued.

"I know that name. Flossie Goldenwood right?" Haymitch said, his glassy eyes starting to clear over in recognition.

"Yes, you knew my father," Flossie said, ignoring the sharp pang she got in her heart whenever she mentioned him.

"He was a good man. You look very much like him. I liked him," Haymitch said, wincing as Flossie noted the angry red scars that littered Haymitch's chest.

"Thank you. Although I blame you for the nights he came home intoxicated," Flossie replied, an amused glint in her eyes. Haymitch chuckled.

"Oi, steady on," Haymitch said as Flossie began to clean Haymitch's chest.

"How did you do this?" Flossie asked, concern flashing in her eyes, only to be replaced by annoyance.

"How do you think?" Haymitch said with a smirk, lifting a half empty liquor bottle and waving it around. Alcohol sloshed on to the floor and Flossie rolled her eyes.

"Yes well that was a stupid question I guess," Flossie said muttering to herself.

"How is Ripper?" Haymitch asked after a few moments of silence.

"She's fine, stocks are low," Flossie replied simply, Haymitch hissed in pain as Flossie coated the wound with the antiseptic herb and quickly tore at a strip of cloth between her teeth and securing it in place.

"That's a crying shame," Haymitch said quietly after Flossie finished doing what she could.

"What, that your supply will be cut short?" Flossie said sarcastically, the heat in her voice missing.

"Partly, but there's always the Apothecary that sells rubbing alcohol," Haymitch replied with a raised brow that looked like amusement. Flossie scoffed.

"That's true, now if you don't mind I need to go back to Ripper," Flossie said bowing her head slightly before getting up to leave.

"Wait," Haymitch said, clambering to his feet and holding on to the wall for support.

"What?" Flossie asked, before rolling her eyes. "The crates are downstairs on the table near the front door," Flossie continued before making her way down the stairs.

"No, wait!" Haymitch shouted, Flossie sighed and turned around as she made it to the bottom. Haymitch gripped the door frame, his breathing laboured.

"What are you going to do, once the stock runs out?" Haymitch asked, Flossie paled feeling completely taken aback by Haymitch's question.

"What I did before," Flossie replied simply, avoiding eye contact.

"I've seen you with him you know. And with the others, how he treats you," Haymitch said, before attempting to go down the stairs.

"I-I need to go," Flossie spluttered, before running out of the house and slamming the door behind her. Flossie clutched her chest, feeling her heart thrumming in her ears.

'He knows' she thought. She felt as if the whole world was spinning around her. She closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing which had become fast and erratic.

Flossie squealed when she felt the sensation of falling backwards, only to fall straight into an unsteady pair of arms. She looked up to see Haymitch's face just inches from her own, it seemed he had made an attempt to run after her, only to see Flossie collapse into his arms.

"Hello there sweetheart," Haymitch said blearily, his breath smelling heavily of liquor fumes. Flossie blushed furiously.

"Haymitch, you scared me," Flossie said, her pupils still dilated in shock. Haymitch chuckled and leaned Flossie forward, keeping his hands on Flossie's arms.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't get scared so easily," he said with a smirk. Flossie smiled weakly before turning back towards the door.

"Like I said, I really should go," Flossie said nervously.

"Wait, hang on there sweetheart. Have a drink, relax," Haymitch said with a drunken grin.

"I can't, Ripper will be expecting me," Flossie said, looking downwards.

"Come on, you know your Dad would never turn down a drink," Haymitch said pleadingly. Flossie looked up and sighed.

"Fine, but I can't stay much longer," Flossie said. Haymitch beamed at her and clapped her on the shoulder.

"That's more like it, here you go," Haymitch said, passing Flossie a large unopened bottle of liquor. Flossie opened the bottle with her teeth and took a small sip from the bottle.

"Happy now?" Flossie asked as the familiar burning sensation of alcohol ran down her throat.

"I'm never happy. Now tell me what you're going to do once the stock runs out," Haymitch said, taking a seat on a couch and leaning back. Flossie spluttered and coughed at Haymitch's boldness.

"You- you already know what I do," Flossie said, trying to stop the tears from forming in her eyes.

"I do, but I want to know why," Haymitch said, taking a long swig from his bottle.

"Here's a question, why are you so interested?" Flossie shot back, her expression turning hard.

"I knew your father Flossie, the least I can do is make sure you're safe," Haymitch replied, Flossie scoffed and drank from the bottle.

"You didn't care when my mom died, you didn't care when I almost starved to death, you didn't care when… since when have you cared Haymitch?" Flossie asked, as she felt anger rise.

"Ever since I saw you with him," Haymitch replied. Flossie's eyes shot to the floor.

"It's none of your business," Flossie said, rather pitifully.

"He brags about it you know, he's told me everything," Haymitch said, his tone strangely lacking mirth, and full of solemnity. Flossie's eyes shot up. She felt a lump in her throat, she fought the urge to cry.

"Well then you don't need to ask me about it," Flossie said, her voice cracking.

"Why do you do it?" Haymitch asked, taking a sip from his bottle.

"To survive," Flossie said, her eyes becoming hard. Haymitch sighed heavily and sank back onto his seat.

Since Flossie's mother had died, Flossie had been driven to do something her mother warned her against when times became financially difficult. It was a poorly kept secret that Cray, The Head Peacekeeper of District 12 gave money to young women who knocked on his door. Flossie saw other women come out of his house in the morning as she went to school looking degraded and broken but had a few extra coins to their name. Flossie had no other option as to become one of those women and now Haymitch knew about it.

"Ripper gives me money but she can't afford it. I barely get anything when I hunt, and Greasy Sae and Ripper are the closest people I've got to family. Cray doesn't give me much but it's something," Flossie said, trying to keep the tears from forming in her eyes.

"There, happy?" Flossie asked, her watery eyes narrowing.

"Still as unhappy as the last time you asked me," Haymitch replied.

"You need to stop seeing Cray," Haymitch said as he took a swig from his bottle.

"You need to stop pretending like you give a damn," Flossie shot back.

"You're a young woman, surely you have more dignity than that," Haymitch said, trying to get up from his sofa but his heavy legs wouldn't allow it. Instead he slumped back down and spilt alcohol onto himself.

"Look where we are Haymitch. We live in squalor, if we don't do what we need to survive, we die. Where is the dignity in that?" Flossie asked, unlike Haymitch she was able to stand and eyed the drunken man with annoyance and exasperation.

"Besides you can talk, I may live rough, but at least I don't drink my life away," Flossie continued, slamming her half-empty bottle of spirit onto the glass coffee table with a loud thunk. Haymitch jumped at the noise. Before Haymitch could say another word, Flossie stormed out of the mansion and back to the Hob.

AN; So I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please read and review to keep me safe. xoxox