A/N: This is the full version of "Writer's Block", which was written for the Spring Fling Fic Exchange on AO3 in 2013. It's based on a prompt submitted by Ameiko, and partially inspired by the film A History of Violence, starring Viggo Mortensen & Maria Bello (my head-canon for this story).

A huge thank you to Titania522 for beta-ing this beast, and to Honeylime08 & Bundandbrushes for pre-reading portions. I also want to thank Ro Nordmann for creating such a terrific banner (on Tumblr). You ladies rock my world!

Lastly, I want to thank everyone who donated to Fandom4LLS. Whether it was just for the collection of stories, or for the cause itself, your support means the world to those suffering from blood cancers. As the sister of someone who has been living with Leukemia for more than half their life I can personally attest to the difference fundraisers like these make in the fight against the disease. My heartfelt appreciation goes out to every person who participated, and especially to those who spent countless hours putting together the Fandom4LLS website, and collection.

Disclaimer: All Hunger Games characters, situations, and lines of dialogue used in this story are the property of Suzanne Collins.

"Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!" The Tribute from District 12, the so-called Mockingjay, shouts into the camera as an indictment against the horrors wrought by The Capitol. As the propos fades to black everyone across Panem can feel the change in the air, the subtle shift as the sparks of rebellion begin to catch. The only thing to do now is to wait to see if those sparks will ignite and grow or sputter and fade under the cold frost of tyranny. The leaders of the growing rebellion know that only the Mockingjay can fan the flames into an inferno that will unite the country to the common cause – freedom. The question is – does she have the strength to fly or will her wings be clipped?

Effie Trinket re-read the last lines of Pearls from Coal, then slowly closed the book with a sigh and placed it on the shelf with the other eleven books in the Tributes of Panem series. She hadn't expected to like the insanely popular YA series, but to her delighted surprise she devoured book one – Jewels of the District – and proceeded to read the rest of them over the last week, stopping only when her eyes watered, and the words began to blur across the pages.

Settling back on the couch, Effie rubbed her tired eyes, and picked up the manila folder lying next to her on the on the purple suede cushion. The Snow Publishing logo was embossed on the front – a pure white rose with a serpent winding around it's thorny stem – and opened it to review what little was known about the elusive author that was her next assignment. Most of the information was already imprinted in Effie's mind, but being almost fanatical in her thoroughness, she proceeded to read it all over again for good measure.

Her cornflower blue eyes skimmed the information contained in the dossier. The series was the brainchild of one Haymitch Abernathy, a then unknown author who rose to meteoric fame with the release of Jewels, and has since become something of an enigma in the publishing world. Haymitch has notoriously never granted an interview to discuss the books, or himself, and all contact between him and Snow Publishing is conducted via his legal team of Heavensbee, Cardew & Boggs LLP. In fact, the rough draft of the original manuscript had been submitted to Snow Publishing by them; along with an incredible list of demands should Mr. Abernathy decide to sign a contract. Some of those demands included retaining the majority ownership rights to the intellectual property in all forms – including, but not limited to – print, audio, visual, and online. In an unprecedented move, he also retained the rights to any and all merchandising that could arise from the series, with a small stipend to be given to the publishing house as a retainer of sorts.

Most of the publishers the manuscript was submitted to had scoffed at the list of outrageous demands set forth in the cover letter and rejected it without reading. The common consensus was that Haymitch was an uncouth upstart, and how dare he presume to ask them to give up so much potential profit in exchange for the rights to something that may end up being complete rubbish.

At the time, Snow Publishing was new to the world of books, and was struggling to make a name for itself in the publishing world. The staff was under strict orders to read everything that landed on their desk, and base their decision of whether or not to purchase on the author's future potential, rather than just on the quality of what they'd submitted.

It was in this manner that Haymitch's rough draft of Jewels of the District ended up on the desk of Seneca Crane. At the time, he was a copy editor for non-fiction under Cornelius Snow, and was eager to find the next big thing in literature to prove he had what it took to move up to the fast-paced world of fiction. He was initially shocked by the list of demands in the cover letter, and almost threw it in the reject bin out of hand, but curiosity won out in in the end. Besides, Seneca figured anyone with that much audacity had to have something to back it up. And of course, he had his orders to read anything and everything that crossed his desk.

Legend had it that when Seneca finally put down the manuscript four hours later, he immediately called the Snow Publishing in-house legal team and demanded they draw up a contract right away. He knew by the fact that he'd read it straight through without so much as a bathroom break, that he had in his hands something special. Not only was the rough draft almost good enough to publish in its current condition, but the potential for the other books the cover letter had hinted at made dollar signs dance in front of Seneca's eyes. He knew signing this author would be his entrée into the upper echelon of the publishing world and he begged the company to sign him.

Naturally, the senior editors were skeptical, and not just because of the demands. It was a rough draft from someone no one had ever heard of and even though there was the hint of more books to come, who knew how if they'd be of the same quality as the original. It was a big risk, but one Seneca was willing to take. He made a deal with them – sign Abernathy and if the book didn't perform, or the subsequent novels were not up to par, or there were issues of any kind, he would pay back all of the money the firm lost on the contract. Cornelius Snow loved a good bet, especially when there was the potential of a life being ruined, so after a modicum of deliberation he agreed to Seneca's terms, and the offer was sent to Plutarch Heavensbee. As a precaution, Snow also had a legal agreement drawn up between him and Seneca regarding the repayment should Haymitch's books not live up to expectations. It was left open-ended, since they didn't have a time-frame for when the remaining books to be written. Seneca, who had no doubts with regard to Haymitch's untested talent, signed on the dotted line with a flourish. It was a decision that would come back to haunt him 12 books and 15 years later.

Effie had heard this story many times over the last few years after coming to Snow Publishing from a large PR firm elsewhere in the city. She was widely known for her impeccable manners, and her ability to handle difficult clients with charm and grace. Cornelius Snow hired her specifically to be a "problem solver" of sorts for the authors who felt they weren't getting their fair share of attention from the editors, or were holding out on deadlines, contract renegotiations, or just generally being thorns in the company's side. Her job was to wine and dine them, soothe their egos and get them to finish the book, sign the contract or do the interview, whatever the case may be. She was jokingly referred to as 'The Escort' by the other staff because of how she basically held the hand of the author through the entire process and often times literally escorted their work to the office. She was saved for the more troublesome of the firm's stable of authors but as of yet had not had the opportunity to deal with Haymitch Abernathy.

Also included in the thin file were the mediocre results of Snow's obligatory background check on Haymitch. Effie flipped through the short report, non-plussed by the fact that not much was known about the famously reclusive author, other than the name of his attorney's. Public Records noted that he owned 150 acres of mostly woodland in the hills of Kentucky but it was unknown if there was a house or any other structures on the property. Even online satellite searches of the address turned up empty, with blurry images of forests and fields where one would assume a house to be. There were no bank accounts or credit cards in his name and no loans or liens; no financial records of any sort. He didn't have a driver's license, and no passport on file with the U.S. Government. Other than a Social Security Number, there were no other documents on any file anywhere to prove that Haymitch Abernathy even existed. Not even a birth certificate that would have at least provided a link to family.

According to an internet search of the multitude of fan-sites devoted to Haymitch and the Tribute series, urban legend was that he lived in a shack on one of his many acres, and could be seen in town selling his home-brewed moonshine commonly known as white liquor. There were also tales that he had a strange preoccupation with geese, and kept a flock on his property, although if they were for hunting or eating was unknown and a subject of heated debate. It was even rumored that he'd been married once but she'd either left him or died while he was in "the war" (which war was never specified). Effie's favorite conspiracy theory was that 'Haymitch Abernathy' didn't really exist at all, and was really the pseudonym used by an alien being marooned here on Earth. The books were purported to be a coded message to his home world stating when and where he could be found by the mother ship.

The only other item in the file was a copy of the publicity still that was used for the dust jackets of all the books. It has never been confirmed to actually be a photo of Haymitch since no one ever met him, but since it was provided by his attorney with explicit instructions to use it for all promotional material Seneca had no choice but to go with it. Effie spent a lot of time looking at that photo and she'd come to the conclusion that if it weren't really Haymitch then someone did a very good job of recreating what a drunken reclusive author should look like – medium build, wrinkled blue oxford button-down shirt, greasy black hair that hung below the ears, skin that had the pallor of someone who has never seen the sun – like a death row inmate - and a scowl that looked to be permanently etched into his face.

Despite the fact that he looked to be three days into a world-class bender, his eyes were surprisingly sharp and focused. The intriguing mix of colors – grey near the pupil with hints of light blue throughout, all rimmed in green – was mesmerizing, even in a photo. His enigmatic gaze seemed to jump off the page to penetrate deep into your soul, and Effie found herself getting lost in them every time she looked at the photo.

'Lord, if a photo is this hypnotizing, what must they be like in person?' Effie thought to herself, not for the first time, as she pinned the photo in place at the back of the file.

She closed the folder with another sigh, and slipped it into the caramel leather attaché case resting on the coffee table to bring with her to the office in the morning. A glance at the clock revealed it was now well after midnight, so with a yawn Effie slid into bed, turning off the light before settling between the crisp cotton sheets.

It wasn't long before she was fast asleep; her mind filled with images of children battling one another to certain death as a large black bird with white spots under its wings flew overhead and a war-torn landscape where the poor huddled together for warmth and shelter. In the distance was a glittering city filled with vain uncaring faces who cheered as the children fought and through it all, the flash of quicksilver eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul.

hehehehehe

The next morning, Effie arrived at Snow Publishing promptly at 8:00 and was in her small corner office by 8:10. She was always on time, and considered lateness to be the height of bad manners.

She hung up her raincoat and stashed her things in the bottom left drawer of her polished mahogany desk. Her black leather chair creaked as she sat, and booted up her computer to sync her calendar and check her emails. She skimmed through the notifications, deleting the junk her spam filter didn't catch, and flagging the ones that needed attention, but not immediately. There were a few that could be dealt with quickly but overall there was nothing too pressing.

The soft 'ding' from her computer pulled Effie from her email perusal as the reminder about her 9:00 meeting Seneca Crane flashed across the screen. She'd been asked to meet with him regarding the 'Abernathy matter', as it had been tactfully referred to in the email she'd received from management two weeks ago. It seems there was an issue with the final draft of the last book, and Effie was being called upon to escort the enigma's final offering home.

Precisely at 9:00, Effie knocked on Seneca's door, waiting until she heard his harried "Come in" before entering. She found Seneca sitting behind his desk looking weary, as if he hadn't slept well in quite a while. His clothing was immaculate, and his beard neatly trimmed as always, but his skin was clammy and pale, and his dark eyes were glassy with dark purple bruises beneath them; evidence of his sleepless nights. He popped a handful of antacid into his mouth, and washed them down with a healthy swig of ginger ale before addressing her.

"Come in, Effie, come in. Have a seat." He waved her over to a plush arm chair facing his desk. "I assume by now you're familiar with the…ah…situation?"

"Yes, Seneca. I've read the files, along with the books but I wasn't able to find out anything further. It may be helpful if you told me exactly what the 'situation' is so I had an idea of where to go from here." Effie was nothing if not calm and collected at all times. She waited patiently as Seneca rubbed his hands over his face and up through his hair, making the short strands stand on end.

Seneca cleared his throat several times, as if unsure where exactly to begin. "As you are aware, Mr. Abernathy's contract is….unique to say the least. What we had to promise in order to obtain the rights to his work was, and still is, unprecedented. You may have also heard that in order to get management to agree to the deal, I had to sign a contract of sorts with Snow himself, and until now everything has gone swimmingly. The books are a success, Haymitch is a millionaire several times over, and Snow Publishing has flourished into the powerhouse that it is today." He paused and took out a silver flask which he unscrewed, and poured a healthy dose of the contents into his coffee mug before taking a long drink. He then took a deep breath before continuing.

"The problem is that Abernathy is holding out on submitting the final draft of the last book in the series – Song of the Mockingjay. This happens from time to time and normally an extension wouldn't be an issue. However, the release of the book has been scheduled to happen simultaneously with the opening weekend of the movie version of Jewels. This has been the plan since the film rights were sold to Lionsgate two years ago; in fact, Haymitch demanded that it be written into the contract that the release of the book would coincide with the opening of the film. As of now we are less than 6 months from the movie's premiere and we haven't even seen an outline, let alone a rough draft of the book." He took another deep draught of coffee, and ran his hands through his hair again.

Effie waited quietly for him to continue, certain that her part in this would be revealed in due time.

"As you know, Cornelius Snow is not the most patient man. He is giving me 10 days to get the manuscript in this office before he cashes in on our agreement." He looked directly at Effie for the first time. "The deal we made stipulated that if there were any issues with the release of any of the books, I would repay all of the money Snow Publishing lost on the promotion, printing, royalties, everything. $4.45 million has been spent on publicity for the release of the final book in the series, both in print and on television. Not to mention at least another $1 Million from the advance purchases made online. If we don't go to print in the next 2 months, I will have to repay Snow Publishing all of that money and knowing Snow, he'll charge me back interest."

The gravity of the situation was not lost on Effie. Seneca would be ruined financially, and professionally, if the manuscript was not submitted by the deadline. Snow would see to it that Seneca never found work in the publishing field again.

"Has there been any reason given for the delay?" Effie asked him.

"Of course not," Seneca replied with exasperation evident in his voice. "His attorneys just keep saying Mr. Abernathy is working and cannot be disturbed. We have no way of contacting him directly, and the way his contract is structured we have no leverage to use against him to force him to comply."

Effie sat back in the plush leather chair, and considered the situation for a moment, rolling the facts over in her mind as she often did when trying to solve a particularly hard puzzle. "So, you want me to go to him in person and see what the problem is with the manuscript and then do what is needed to make sure it's turned in by the deadline." She stated this directly, no hint of a question in her voice. "Do you know where he is?"

Seneca closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before answering. "As I said before, his attorney will not divulge his whereabouts, and we have no direct contact information."

Effie wasn't concerned about the lack of an address. She'd once found an author who'd been missing for several months and had missed his deadline for submission. He'd been camped out in an RV parked in a remote area of Yellowstone National Park, working his ham radio to spread conspiracy theories about the impending end of the world. It only took her a few days to find him, and only several more to convince him to shave off his mountain-man beard and rejoin civilization. The subsequent book went to press a few weeks late, but the sales of the sensational apocalyptic novel more than made up for the overage costs.

"Not a problem. I'll put out a few feelers and see what intel I can dig up and proceed accordingly. Don't worry Seneca, I will escort that manuscript here before the 10 days are up." Effie said this in her most confident tone, which did little to reassure Seneca. He chewed a couple more antacids then stood up, prompting Effie to do so as well.

He came around the desk and took both of her hands in his. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes, from lack of sleep or the whiskey laced coffee she wasn't sure. "Effie, you are my last hope. Do this for me and I'll owe you for the rest of my life."

She smirked and looked back at Seneca with her eyebrow raised. "Isn't that how you got into this mess in the first place?"

Her remark caught him off-guard and he looked confused for a moment before her words trickled through his jumbled thoughts. Once he understood she was teasing him, he actually managed a weak smile. "Where were you 15 years ago when I could have used your sage advice?"

She chuckled and squeezed his hands in a friendly gesture. "Don't worry, Seneca. I'll get this done for you."

With that, he released her hands and she went back to her office to rearrange her schedule, finish off some last minute details and set her autoreply so any calls or emails would be redirected to her mobile phone.

Effie began her search by digging around online some more and managed to find archives from the town in Kentucky where Haymitch was rumored to own land. Reviewing the local newspaper's online archive led her to the public notice of sale from when he'd purchased the land 20 years earlier from the Estate of A. Everdeen. The land was located in a small town called Gudgel in Anderson County, Kentucky. Gudgel was located east of Lawrenceburg, which just happened to be home to the Wild Turkey Bourbon distillery.

"Not far from a distillery? Seems like the perfect place for someone rumored to be a moonshiner." she said to herself, "Well, that's as good a place to start as any."

With a plan starting to form in her mind, Effie used a popular travel website to book a flight to Lawrenceburg. It would leave the city later that evening and would, after several connections, put her in the Blue Grass State by 9:00 the next morning. She printed her boarding pass, then closed up her office and headed home to pack for her next adventure.