• whiskeyandnightmares

To be fair, you couldn’t blame her for going into momentary shock at the sight of his face. She hadn’t seen him in- what? Just over twenty five years, now. Or, not in person, but she had seen him on television far more than she wanted. She didn’t want to see him if she couldn’t touch him, speak to him… but she could now.

The odd thing was, she was scared. Scared to approach him, scared he wouldn’t remember her, scared he’d found someone else. Bordering on terrified. At age sixteen, she would have laughed at the idea of being scared of Haymitch. Or age fourteen. Or age seven.

But, she supposed, things changed a person. Oh, and with her time in the Capitol, her time away from him, her years ageing by herself, she had changed ore than she should have. So, she thought, had Haymitch himself. He shouldn’t have grown up drunk- he should have grown up a good man, surrounded by people he loved. But a lot of things were wrong in Panem, and that was only one thing of hundreds. And when once Ambrosia would be running straight for Haymitch’s now, she hardly dared to look at him. She wasn’t as strong as she used to be. The last time he had seen her was when she had been crying, and he didn’t want him to see her like that now.

“I thought I’d never see you again, Haymitch.” The brunette finally muttered. He probably didn’t even recognise her.


She wanted to be home, not underground, being micromanaged. She wanted to see her family. They were dead, now. All of them. She could say she didn’t mind, but that would be lying. There were a lot of other things she had wanted- like having a happy life with Haymitch, having kids, getting married- all those dreams of a little girl that would never come true. She was pretty sure there was something about a pony in there, too.

Amy hadn’t even noticed the other person approaching, lost in her own thoughts. Thoughts that she’d much like to get back to. She wanted to be alone, for right now- sort through everything by herself.

But she had long since grown out of her too-forward personality, and instead simply sighed, as she turned her head to look at the other.

“Can you make this quick? I’m not in the mood for talking.”