Author's Note:- Hi guys! I know, I know, another new story, when I should really be updating my other ones! I really couldn't resist this one. My Hayffie obsession demanded me to write this story.

I will try and be a little better with updates, I promise! I've written three chapters of this in advance, but I plan to leave a few days between uploads, so in those days, I can write more, and hopefully it'll keep us going for a while!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, and I never will. They belong to the inspirational Suzanne Collins!

Contrary to popular belief, pacing did not make time go faster. If anything, pacing made time grind to a halt, but people still did it. Why he was doing it, despite knowing that it would achieve nothing, was beyond him.

Haymitch had never liked Effie...well not romantically, anyway. He tolerated her for close to ten years, and she sure as hell didn't make it straightforward; what with all the nagging and the obsessive compulsive behaviour, it was enough to drive anyone insane.

But still, that didn't stop him from being here now. It didn't stop him from pacing the hospital corridor, apprehensively awaiting news on her condition. Effie had been found in the early hours of that morning, imprisoned in what could only be described as a torture chamber.

From what he had been told, Effie had been suffering physical, emotional and sexual abuse for months, and she was in pretty bad shape. It didn't shock him. The Capitol was capable of anything, and if they had to, they would torture their own residents for information. Not that Effie would reveal anything to them. She was stronger than that.

"Mr. Abernathy?" The voice made him jump. About bloody time! They had no excuse to keep him waiting so long; there was no one else here!

Effie didn't have any family left, and her Capitol 'friends' were more like acquaintances, who didn't care much beyond what dresses they were going to buy in the sales, or what nail polish colour was currently in style. Haymitch was the only real friend she had.

Drunk or not drunk, he was there when she needed him. Most of the time, anyway.

This was one of those times.

"Well I haven't changed my name in the past four hours that you've bloody well kept me waiting." He snapped.

He was badly craving a drink, but he promised himself that he wouldn't leave until he'd seen her, even if it was only for five minutes. After an hour, the alcohol withdrawal had begun to make him feel sick, and his mood had deteriorated from there.

So by now, it was only natural for him to be surly. The healer who had greeted him was young, barely out of medical school, it appeared. He'd clearly had no familiarity with impatient members of the public.

Well he had to learn sometime.

"You can see her now..." He replied, his voice shaking as he pointed to the room that he had just left. Haymitch grumbled and made his way to the door.

His anger faded as soon as he saw her, and it was replaced with a dull ache. The ache that one got when they saw someone close to them so vulnerable, and not being able to do a thing to help them.

Effie was attached to every machine under the sun: oxygen, a heart monitor, an IV, providing her with the nutrients that she had lacked during her imprisonment. She was covered in scars, wounds that had been stitched, and she appeared to have lost at least twenty pounds – the hospital gown she was wearing hung off her. Despite all of this, she still looked...beautiful.

She was completely natural.

No makeup caked over her pale face, no wig covering her long, wavy golden blonde hair. She looked so much better without the wig and the cosmetic crap all over her face.

He took the seat next to her and took her hand, squeezing only enough to let her know that he was there. Not that it mattered, she was fast asleep; or drugged up to her eyeballs with painkillers.

Either way, she wasn't conscious.

He stared at her for the longest time, drifting in and out of his thoughts. Not for the first time, he blamed himself for what happened to Effie. He should have told her to get the hell out of the Capitol. He should have told her to get somewhere safe...but everything had happened so fast.

One minute she was there, and the next she was gone, and no one knew where she went.

"Hey, Princess..." He spoke softly to her. Maybe she could hear him. He hoped she could hear him. He had so much to say to her. He had so many things to apologise for.

He didn't even know where to start.

"I haven't had a drink in...hours...so this'll be the most sober you've ever known me...so enjoy it."

He smirked to himself. He felt like an idiot, talking to himself, but he didn't want to sit in complete silence. Normally Effie talked enough for both of them, but now there was only him.

"So you know I'm not good at talking about feelings and stuff...so don't expect anything fancy. I guess I just wanted to say that I'm sorry...for not being there for you when I should have been. I should have protected you, but I'm not going to lie...me being the insensitive jerk that I am, I cared more about liquor than I did about you. It sounds awful, I know, but it's true. I guess me being here now won't make up for it, but I'm just glad you're alive. You're alright, you know, for a nag..." He chuckled to himself. "I guess I just didn't know what I had until it was gone...when you disappeared I felt like I'd lost one of my only friends...because I had."

He paused, realising he had rambled too much. He touched his lips to her hand, and stood. He really needed a drink now.

"I'll be back tomorrow, Eff. I promise."

-x-

Haymitch was as good as his word. He showed up every single day for the next week. Yes, he'd had a few drinks beforehand, and he wasn't always sober; but he wasn't perfect. He wasn't so drunk that he couldn't stand up. He'd have been thrown out otherwise.

On the morning of the eighth day, he made his way down the hospital corridors, a bunch of flowers clutched in his left hand. He didn't know for the life of him what kind they were. Lillies, probably. He'd been rather pissed when he bought them. He just hoped that Effie would be awake to see them this time.

When he visited, she was always under some sort of sedative or pain medication, and he hadn't seen her eyes open. He still talked to her though. And at one point, he swore she squeezed his hand.

Today through, as he reached the ward that Effie was on, he knew immediately that things weren't right. Effie's usually silent room wasn't silent this time. Nurses and doctors pushed their way inside to tend to a screaming, terrified Effie.

Without even pausing to think about it, Haymitch ran, full speed to her door.

Effie was being pinned to her bed by three nurses, as she shrieked in terror and tried to throw off the two women and man she believed to be attackers. She was naked from the waist down, lying on her tummy as the nurses practically sat on her to keep her still.

The male, who Haymitch had thought was a nurse, was actually a doctor, and he held a needle in one hand.

"LEAVE HER!" Haymitch snapped, and Effie's head turned towards him at the sound of his voice. "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

The arguments and heated demands between the nurses and doctor stopped, but Effie was still screaming and howling, desperately trying to get away from them. She looked feral, from all of her time locked away without any human interaction, unless being beaten counted. It didn't.

She had a look in her eyes that Haymitch had never seen before. One that showed she had lost control. Lost control of everything around her.

Tears streaming down her face, Effie reached her hand towards Haymitch, giving him a pleading look that made his heart twinge. Though she was sobbing, he knew what she was trying to say by the gesture: Please. Please help me.

But he didn't move. He couldn't. He didn't know what to do.

"Now, Doctor Parriss!" One of the nurses, who had managed to keep Effie's other arm still, shouted. The doctor inserted the needle, filled with a clear liquid, into Effie's right buttock, and pushed the plunger. Effie's sobbing slowly stopped, and her body fell limp. Her eyes were still on Haymitch as they closed, slowly, and her breathing steadied to a normal rate.

The nurses and doctor released their restraint on her, (only when they were sure that she wasn't going to fight them again), and left the room. Doctor Parriss muttered to Haymitch as he passed.

"If it comforts you any, she won't remember this when she wakes up."

It didn't comfort him. At all.

He'd only just realised that he was shaking with rage. Rage at them. Rage at the system in general. Was that really the way to calm their patients? Drug them because they can't be bothered to spend the time reassuring them?

A sudden guilt overwhelmed him too. She had wanted him to hold her hand. She had wanted his touch. But he had done nothing.

He walked over to the chair beside Effie's bed, taking her limp hand into his own, holding it as she slept.

"I'm here, Princess. I'm right here."

-x-x-

"Haymitch?" Her weak voice alerted him immediately.

He hadn't let go of Effie's hand since she had been knocked out with those damn drugs, and he must have dozed off in the chair. His neck was aching like crazy; but that was the least of his worries.

He was just so happy to hear her voice.

"Still alive then, sweetheart?" He chuckled, momentarily letting go of Effie's hand as she rolled onto her back. He'd covered her with a blanket just after she went to sleep, as she was wearing nothing on her bottom half.

Most of the machines that she had been attached to were gone now. She only needed an IV drip to keep her hydrated. At least that was some good news.

"You stayed..." She replied, weakly, after almost five minutes of silence. Haymitch had just assumed she wasn't up to talking, so the comment caught him completely off guard.

"Of course I stayed, Eff." A smirk played on his lips. "It would be bad manners if I didn't, wouldn't it?" He sighed, taking her hand again. To his relief, she didn't pull it away. "I've missed your nagging."

"Why did you come?" Effie whispered, not looking at him. "I thought you hated me."

"I've never hated you, Effie. I've found you annoying, yes. But I've never hated you." He frowned, trying to work out where she'd gotten that idea from. From the way he behaved when he was drunk, most likely.

"You told me you hated me the last time I saw you. You said 'I hate you prissy Capitol lot. I hate all of them, and I hate you for being one of them.'" Haymitch's heart sank into his stomach. He had no memory of this conversation, but being the sober one, Effie's memory was more reliable than his.

"I was drunk...I didn't know what I was saying."

"Well it must have been true. We all know you're incapable of lying when you're drunk." She muttered, pulling her hand away from his.

"It's different when I'm drunk and angry, Effie. It's not a good combination. I was angry at President Snow and his supporters...not at you. I should have made that clear."

"Yes, you should."

They sat in silence, for a while. Haymitch was silently cursing himself inside his head. Effie remembered everything. Every little detail; and he should have learned by now not to say things he'd regret, drunk or not drunk.

"You look nice..." He said, stupidly. Maybe complimenting her would relieve her anger at him a little. Effie raised an eyebrow, and turned her face towards him. Her forehead was bruised and she had a split lip that wasn't quite done healing.

"No I don't." She sighed, dismally. Nice one, Haymitch. He was making things worse.

"Well you do...you know...without the wig and the makeup...the natural look suits you."

Effie simply shrugged. Her expression had softened a little, so maybe she would forgive him. Or try, at least.

"I've always felt ugly when I'm natural. Maybe that's why I covered it up all those years." This statement astonished him. Effie had always seemed so...confident. Secure in her own body, her own appearance. She'd never called herself ugly or been remotely modest; not since he'd known her, anyway.

"Well...you didn't need to be. I think you look lovely...you know...despite all of the...you know...stuff..." He stammered. He was actually trying to watch what he said. He wouldn't have if Effie wasn't in a hospital bed; if she wasn't, she'd go off in a huff until she decided to stop being mad, but this was different.

Effie managed a tiny smile, which Haymitch returned, nervously.

"How're Katniss and Peeta?" Effie asked, changing the subject.

"Peeta's recovering..." He paused. Should he tell her about the state that Katniss was in? He didn't want to pile any undue stress on her, but he didn't want to lie to her either. He decided to do the latter. "Katniss...well...she's alive." He swallowed a hard lump in his throat. "Her sister, Prim...She was killed in a bomb explosion at President Snow's mansion." He expected the silence that followed. The little colour that Effie had in her face left it, leaving her ghostly pale.

"It's my fault..." She said, slowly. Haymitch stared hard at her, confused.

"What do you mean? Of course it wasn't..."

"But it is, Haymitch. I'm the whole reason we're in this mess. If I'd picked another name...any other name-"

"Effie..." Haymitch interrupted her. "It wasn't your fault. If you'd picked another name, we'd still have the games. Katniss wouldn't be the mockingjay and President Snow would still be alive. We'd still be training two kids to fight to the death, and then we'd watch them die. Nothing will have changed. I know we...lost people..." He needed a drink more and more by the second. "But it's better this way. No one else is going to die."

"But what about Katniss...? She did everything for Prim...She'd have given her life for her." As far as Haymitch knew, Effie was an only child. He hadn't asked to be honest. That was her business. But she seemed to be making an effort to understand how Katniss must have been feeling.

"Peeta will look after her. They'll look after eachother." He said, minimally. Effie's eyes filled with tears.

"And what about us? Will we be alright?" There was a lengthy pause that followed. Would they be alright? Effie would, surely. She'd go back to the Capitol, and continue her life where she left off. As for him...well...he would just go back to District Twelve and drink.

"We'll be fine." He nodded. "Especially you. You'll be about of here before you know it."

-x-x-x-

The next two weeks were pretty much uneventful. Haymitch would still visit every day, and he and Effie would just sit and talk for a while. Not about heavy stuff, though. Just small talk, about the weather and the brand of whiskey Haymitch was drinking.

The doctors had told Haymitch that Effie would be released from hospital on Friday. Today, Thursday, Haymitch walked into Effie's room, and smirked when he saw her.

She was sitting up in bed. She had no IV's in her now, so she looked vaguely normal again. Her wounds were healing and fading, too, thanks to the fancy medicine the Capitol hospitals always stocked. Haymitch's grin broadened when he saw that Effie was picking at her lunch – it looked revolting; just a bowl of green mush.

"I thought you Capitol people ate better food than this, Trinket?" He guffawed, sitting on his usual chair beside the bed.

"It's called hospital food, Haymitch." Effie grumbled, dejectedly. "We have a choice between cold mush or cold nothing." Haymitch laughed, and shook his head.

"Well tomorrow, you'll be able to go out for some proper food. Get a bit more meat back on you." He was smiling, but he took the last part of that remark seriously. She'd lost so much weight in prison. The wind would threaten to sweep her away if she lost much more. She wasn't eating much of the food here, either, but now he could see why. Effie stiffened and pushed her bowl away, looking restless.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"It's just...I don't know what I'm going to do...when I get out of here, I mean."

"Well isn't it obvious?" Haymitch replied, with an eyebrow raised. "You'll go back to your apartment, and take a bubble bath like girls do, and then you'll probably go on a date with whatever guy you meet on the way home."

"You make me sound like a hooker, Haymitch. How much have you had to drink today?" Haymitch grinned, slyly. "Not much." He took a small flask out of his pocket. "Half of this left. Once I've left you I'll probably drop by a liquor store or something."

"You're not allowed that in here, Haymitch. They'll-"

"Oh calm down, you nag. I've been bringing it for weeks. If they were going to notice, they would have by now." He laughed at the expression on Effie's face. Usually, her discontented look irritated him, but in this instance, it was comical.

"I never saw you."

"That's because I either took it out when you were asleep or not looking, Princess. I'm not dumb enough to wave this thing in front of your nose."

"You just did..." She pointed out.

"Well you asked. And anyway, I haven't been too drunk while I've been to see you, have I?"

"Well two days ago, you could scarcely walk." Effie responded. By the look on her face, she was trying to decide whether to be disgusted or amused. "I'm surprised they didn't throw you out."

Haymitch batted his hand, impatiently.

"Well they didn't."

Effie nodded.

"When are you going back to Twelve?"

"Trying to get rid of me, sweetheart?" He smirked.

Effie shook her head, quickly.

"No...I was merely being curious."

"The day after tomorrow. I'll make sure you get home alright, maybe listen to you babble for a little while, and then spend one more night here. The train leaves at three on Saturday afternoon. Sorry, Princess, but I don't think I can be here much longer."

What he really meant was 'I can't stand to be around these people any longer', but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Good...well not good...but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know, Eff." He stood up. "So I'll come get you tomorrow, and we'll either go to your apartment first, or we can go out to eat."

He was startling himself with his words. He never went anywhere in Twelve, except to buy liquor. He ventured out even less at the Capitol. But hey, he was trying to make his friend feel better. He didn't expect this to be easy for her, either. Effie seemed to notice the change in his demeanour too, because she looked puzzled.

"Did you get a brain transplant?"

"No..." Haymitch frowned. "I think your lectures on manners finally rubbed off on me. Don't worry though, I'll try and be my usual, obnoxious self tomorrow, especially for you." He beamed, his silvery grey eyes twinkling at her.

She looked away, embarrassed.

"Maybe you could save that for when you're back at Twelve?"

"Whatever you want, sweetheart."

Author's Note:- Well, I hope you liked it for a first chapter, people! Reviews would be very much appreciated! The more I get, the more motivated I'll be to write. :)

Enjoy! x