I'm not even sure why this came to my mind. But it did and so I shall write it. Hope you enjoy. –Jen
The weather was warm for winter. That's the reason she used when they asked why she desired to go outside. To enjoy, she had told them, the nice temperatures before the frost crawled back with its icy talons that seemed to curl around every glimmer of nature as it went. But it was a lie. All of it. And she knew it to be so as she stood on the barren hill, thin arms crossed tightly over her chest as her gaze, murky from exhaustion, focused on the sight off in the distance.
It was beautiful in a cruel sense. Ironic. The flames with their vibrantly colored tongues licking at the city's framework in an almost artistic way as if they had come from a painting rather than from a bomb. Colors that the metropolis once craved for extravagance and only now must be shunning in fear. The wind blew, cutting through the heated air of the fire and cooling across her skin. She shivered, arms only tightening as she watched, stone faced, as the place she once held dear became engulfed in the orange glow of rebellion.
It had only been a matter of time, she knew, that this would happen. Every form of government has its end and now this one was coming to its conclusion. Most were joyful. Very few were sorrowful. But it was she who felt nothing. Her thoughts lost in a haze that not even the strongest medication could pull them from. She shifted lightly, still growing use to her new body—one of homely rather than eccentric appeal—when she heard the footsteps behind her.
"Heard you came out here," said the voice, sounding just as weary as she must appear. "Don't know why you're torturing yourself like this."
She doesn't respond for a second, only taking the time to inhale deeply.
"Doesn't look so intimidating when it's burning like that, does it?" He stood beside her; she could see the blurred image of his figure from the corner of her eye. "Probably looks better from here than it does in the actual city."
Another breath. Still no response.
"Look, Princess," she felt the pressure of his hand as he placed it on her shoulder. "I know it was your home but after what they did to you—it's ridiculous how your beating yourself up inside. Stupid. They don't deserve your sympathy. None of them do."
The wind blew harder this time, winter's fingertips pressing bitter cold to her bare flesh. Her body trembled, unaccustomed to such temperatures. He seemed to take notice and she watched through a sideways glance as he peeled off his own jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
"Thank you." The first two words she has spoken to him since he arrived.
"Don't mention it," he replied.
Silence fell between them briefly, something she used to not appreciate until now. In the distance, she could hear the sharp cracks as architecture broke off from various places. Moments of quiet falling in between as the pieces plummeted down from the skyscrapers, on making noise as they plummeted into the concrete and marble below. She winced automatically, though no physical pain was felt by her. Only emotional.
She knew he already was well aware of the answer to his question. Nevertheless, she nodded, knowing he'd take that response as he chose to. Once more, silence blanketed over the conversation. During the voiceless period, she noted how heavy his jacket felt as it weighed down her shoulders. After all this time, she still hadn't full recovered from the events that led up to being here.
"Temperature's dropping," he finally said, breaking the stillness. "Maybe things are finally calming down out there."
She looked towards the distance, noticing that the red glow was slowly being over come by the thick, black smoke of smolder. She swallowed, tasting it in her mouth. Smelling its thick stench in her nose. Soon it would be over. Soon there would be nothing.
"Come on," he squeezed her shoulder. "You look as if the wind could blow away at any moment. Standing out here isn't good for you anyways."
But she refused to move, feet planted firmly in the dark soil of the ground. Like the city, her eyes burned. Tears welling up to the blue of her irises as she stared forward, her heart pounding deep within her chest.
"Effie," his tone lacked the usual gruffness she was so used to hearing. "Look, I didn't mean—"
But she doesn't let him finish. Without hesitation, she turned to him, crushing her face to the rumpled fabric of his shirt. He smelled of sweat and dirt but she had no right to complain. She probably didn't smell any better. Her fingers dug into the fabric, twisting distortedly as a choked sob escaped from her dry lips, overpowering the low crackle of the distant disaster.
He said nothing but held her. She felt his hands moving awkwardly up and down the small of her back as he attempted to comfort her. She relaxed into him, letting her vulnerability finally show as he own walls fell from her eternal fire. She was powerless. A mere shell of what she used to be. But so was he.
"Don't go," the words were wet and heavy as the slipped from her mouth. "Please don't leave me alone."
It made no sense. The statements she spoke to him. But every word she meant. Only Haymitch seemed to be the one who truly understood her. Who knew her more than anyone else, perhaps even herself at times. Maybe she was being ridiculous right now. Perhaps she had finally slipped into the realm of insanity. But at least as long as he was here she was never really alone.
"I'm not," he said. "I promise."
She doesn't pull away. Maybe some small part of her was afraid that if she does, he'd disappear instantly. They stood on the hill for the longest time, deep in each other's embrace as the world around them and all that they knew collapsed.
But it was not the end. Even after the fires had died down and the smoke dissipated through the air, something had been born from the smolder. A beginning. A fresh start. And as the dusk slowly fell over the battle worn district and Effie and Haymitch had long retreated inside, there would be a tomorrow. And several tomorrows after that.
Effie knew this. And as she watched from the tiny window at the couch where Haymitch had fallen asleep against her shoulder, she knew that she would be alright. That with time, everything would be. The next day held new dawn. A vibrant image that offered a peace that neither of them had felt in a long time. And as the rubble smoldered from afar, for the first time, Effie found comfort. Her hand reached down and laced her fingers with those belonging to Haymitch and she sunk down into the cushions of the couch.
They were going to be alright.