AN: Sorry for another Author's Note. Anyway, this is kind of a long story: The Hunger Games is one of my favourite books in the world. I read them (and was totally immersed and obsessed) back in 2012. My favourite characters were/are Haymitch, Finnick, Cinna, and Effie. I shipped Hayffie like nobody's business. I wrote a lot of fanfiction, but never got around to posting any of it on here. Then, in 2013 when Catching Fire came out, I got back into THG, and I wrote even more fanfiction. Still, for some reason, I never posted any of it. Now, Mockingjay is coming out (TODAY!) and I'm getting back into THG again.
Much like my Septimus Heap fanfic, "Saved", this is a rewrite of an old THG fic I wrote back in April of 2012. Enjoy!
Original was written on April 28th, 2012
I can see the hovercraft through the fogged window. It's landing, slow as molasses, full of prisoners that the Capitol took. My heart is beating fiercely in my chest, and I will the hovercraft to come faster.
Then I'll see if she is there.
A fresh pang of depression hits me like a punch in the stomach, like a slap in the face. Her. The memory of her flamboyant wigs and ruffed dresses makes my heart ache. I can't stand the thought of them hurting her.
Please just let her be all right.
Just then, I see that the hovercraft has finally landed. I lunge for the door that leads outside, but a Peacekeeper blocks me.
"Wait." he tells me gruffly.
"No!" I cry. "Please. I need to see if she's there! I need to see if she's all right!"
"Wait." he says again, and I give up trying to push past him. Instead, I head gloomily back to the window and watch as they lead prisoner after prisoner out of the hovercraft.
The scene unfolding before me hits me like a tidal wave. Of course I braced myself for this moment- but desperately scanning the beaten, bloody prisoners for her face is torturous. I press my face to the window and whisper her name under my breath, willing her injuries to be minimal, just wishing for her to be there at all.
"Trinket. Effie Trinket. Come on, sweetheart. You can do it."
She isn't there coming out. She isn't coming out.
The stream of prisoners coming from the hovercraft stops.
I don't see Effie.
With a vengeful cry, I shove aside the Peacekeeper- although I bet he would have let me past anyway- and run into the hovercraft. Immediately, my heart stops, and my breath catches in my throat.
She's there.
Sitting on the ground, with her hair tumbling around her shoulders. She's not wearing a wig, and I sigh at the sight of her real hair- it's exactly as I remember it, that one drunken night I saw it. Light orange, golden; like an angel's, even streaked with dirt like it is now.
"Effie." I call out tentatively.
She looks up, and I see her eyes. Green like spring, soft and beautiful. But they lack their usual verve. In fact, her whole form does; her shoulders, slumped forward, scream this is not Effie to me.
Her heart might still be beating under the threadbare rag she's wearing. And she might be breathing. But she is dead. And although her name may still be Effie Trinket, she is not the escort that I've loved to hate, or rather hated to love. She is not.
But when she sees me, I think I see a flicker of life go through her eyes. "Haymitch?" she asks in disbelief. It takes her a minute to find my name. Does she even recognize me?
I go over and kneel down next to her. "Effie… Effie." I reach out to touch her, to make sure she's real, but she shrinks away from my touch.
Hurt floods through me, although I know it isn't her fault. She's learned not to trust people, learned not to feel anything but pain when they touch her ivory skin. "Effie, it's me." I say patiently.
"Haymitch." she repeats. She still sounds questioning, as if… as if she's not sure who that name belongs to.
I nod. "Yeah, Trinket, it's me."
I can see in her eyes that she's trying to remember. She's trying hard- and then something clicks. "Haymitch." She reaches out, and places her hand on mine. Her skin is cold and trembling. "Haymitch."
I squeeze her hand like a lifeline. "I missed you, Trinket. Every day."
"I thought you hated me." Effie says in a small voice. She sounds almost guilty.
I sigh. "I did too."
She looks away from me, and tries to slip her thin hand out from inside my grip. I let her, but only for a moment. Because as soon as our hands aren't entwined, I'm scooping her up, bridal-carry style. "Let's get you out of here, huh, princess?"
Effie laughs. "Yes, please." She clings to me as I stand up, and carry her out of the hovercraft. As I bring her carefully inside, I glance down at her. She's just staring at me, with those big green eyes, and a smile is playing around her lips.
There's something else in her eyes. Love. I wonder for a moment if I'm wrong, if she doesn't recognize me, because Effie has never looked at me like that before. But then she says, "Thank you, Haymitch." and warmth seeps through me.
I guess I've shown her a new side of me today. The side of me that lay awake every night, wondering what they were doing to her. The side of me that needs her so desperately.
She's alive. Effie Trinket is alive, and she loves me. Those are two things I never thought would be true.
I love her, too.
end