Title: Glitter in the Air

Rating: MA

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance

Characters: Haymitch/Effie

Summary: "It's a war, Haymitch…Some sacrifices are necessary."

Author's Note: Inspired by the song "Glitter in the Air" by Pink. Takes place during Mockingjay. Haymitch's P.O.V. Please excuse any typos. As always, enjoy. - RW

"Send it in." Plutarch's cryptic order draws my attention away from the coverage of the front lines being filtered into the command room.

"Send what in? In where?" I can feel the tension knotting in my stomach.

Plutarch doesn't answer, but I can tell by the look on his face whatever he's just 'sent in' is something big…something to finally shift the victory to the rebels. His eyes stare past me towards the screen and I slowly turn, my eyes scanning the crowded city circle in front of Snow's mansion. The camera crews are filming from above, so it's hard to discern much detail, but it's impossible to miss the children corralled in front of the mansion, huddling together in fear.

Then I see them. Silver parachutes. Dozens of them. For a moment, I'm just as dumbstruck as the rest of the crowd, wondering what the canisters contain, but a sick realization comes over me just before the first canister explodes in the hands of a small child.

Distant screams of terror fill the room, followed by more explosions and I can't tear my eyes away from the screen as I stare on in horror. People are running in every which direction—trying to flee, trying to aid the children, panic taking over completely in others. And then the soldiers are rushing the mansion.

Plutarch has come to stand beside me and it takes every ounce of my strength to hold myself together and not rip him to shreds. "What have you done?"

"Won the war."

I hope to hear some kind of self-loathing in the sound of his voice, some hint of remorse, some sign that this was the only way to win. The last resort… Instead, I just hear the quiet awe of victory. I reach up, ready to rip my earpiece out of my ear when a voice breaks through.

"The Mockingjay is down! I need immediate evac!"

Katniss.

I don't wait for Plutarch to respond; I move to the controls and authorize the nearest transport to pick them up and to have medics at the ready. "What about the boy? Where's the boy?"

"We've got him too. Both badly burned, but alive."

"Get them out of there."

"There was a fatality," the soldier's voice informs me. "The other Everdeen girl."

"Shit." I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the many other explicatives that are threatening to pour from my mouth.

While the girl certainly didn't mean much to me, I knew she was everything to Katniss, and now, after all she had done to protect her sister, none of it mattered. My eyes lift to Plutarch, who still stares at the screen as if he's mesmerized.

"You sent the girl in there, didn't you?" My voice shakes with barely concealed rage as I grip the back of chair to steady myself. Plutarch finally turns to look at me, a nonchalant smile pulling at his thin lips. "You sent her knowing what you were going to do."

"It's a war, Haymitch." He shrugs. "Some sacrifices are necessary."

Every fiber of my being is straining to keep myself from launching across the table at him. I can feel myself shaking, and—finally—a look of fear ghosts across Plutarch's face.

"Come on, old friend…we've won. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"We are not friends." Is the only response I can give as I pluck the earpiece from my ear and throw it down on the table. I have to find out where they're taking Katniss and Peeta…and I have to tell Aven about Prim. She should hear of her daughter's death from a friend, and right now I'm the closest thing there is.

I find Aven in the emergency aid station, helping to treat the burn victims that are still coming in from the explosions in the city circle. Though she's focused on her work, I can see the worry evident in her eyes as she scans the faces of the room every few minutes. When our eyes meet across the crowded room, she nearly topples several people to cross the distance.

"Haymitch…" Her voice is shaking, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Please, no one will tell me what's happening. The fire…they said the children are dead? Prim was with the children…"

She seems on the verge of hysterics so I lightly grip her shoulders, mostly so she doesn't collapse and hurt herself when I break the news, but when I open my mouth I can't find the words. "Aven, I'm so sorry."

"What?" Her voice is tight as she looks at me, trying to comprehend what I'm saying. She shakes her head almost violently. "No… Haymtich tell me she's not… please, tell me she's not dead."

She's gripping the front of my shirt desperately and I fold my arms around her, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry."

Aven wails as her worst fears are confirmed. As I anticipated, her entire body goes slack in my arms as she breaks down into uncontrollable sobs. As I half carry-half drag her to an open cot, I find myself angry that she hasn't once asked about Katniss. Though there is no one else to console the grieving woman, I don't stay with her once I have her settled on the bunk. There's still too much to do…

It takes an hour before I finally find someone who knows where Katniss and Peeta were taken, and another hour just to get through the scared, confused and panicked mobs of people clogging the streets. No one knows what's going on or where to go and the further away from the city circle I get, the more chaotic it gets. Our soldiers are still sweeping the Capitol streets, making sure that all Peacekeepers are surrendering, but I know it'll be hours—possibly days—before any sort of order is restored.

Katniss is still undergoing treatment by the time I finally get to the medical center, but Peeta's burns are less severe and he's being treated mostly with burn cream. He's bandaged and lying in a hospital bed, attached to fluids as I enter the room. I can see the tortured look on his face, the worry and dread of someone who doesn't know what's happened and isn't getting any answers. A glimmer of hope flashes across his eyes as he sees me.

"Haymitch—"

I raise my hand to stop the onslaught of questions I know he wants to ask. "Before you start—let me tell you what I know. We took the city center by force, Snow's been captured, Katniss' sister was killed, and you and Katniss were both severely injured in the process. It's still a madhouse out there, but I left command after the explosions happened and got word that you and Katniss were injured. Beyond that, I don't know if there have been any new developments."

Peeta takes this in for a minute. "So Katniss will be okay?"

"They haven't said much on her condition—she's worse off than you—but they'll do what they can for her."

"Does she know about Prim?"

I sigh wearily as I look at Peeta. "That I don't know."

We're both quiet for a long moment before.

"How are you doing?" I ask, knowing this has been a lot for Peeta to deal with. I had been strongly opposed to his being sent in on Katniss' team, not sure why Coin and Plutarch would risk the mission and her safety, but—as shown by the deadly parachutes earlier this evening—there seemed to be a lot of strategy I wasn't privy to.

"I don't know." Peeta answers honestly. "Sometimes it's still hard to tell what's real and what's not. If I wasn't burned, I would have thought I'd hallucinated what happened. I kind of wish I would have."

I lay a hand on his shoulder, recognizing the grief and guilt evident in his tone. "There was nothing you could have done to save them, Peeta."

"What happens now?"

"First, they'll try to restore some order to the Capitol and the Districts. Probably call a ceasefire to any fighting that might still be going on. Then, Coin will probably announce herself as the new president and call for a trial for Snow and anyone else involved in the war effort. If Coin holds to her end of the deal, you and the rest of the tributes who were taken prisoner will be granted immunity and not tried…though I can't guarantee they won't want you to testify against the Capitol before they let Katniss stick an arrow in him."

He nods in understanding, a daunted look on his tired face, and I know there's not much more he can handle at this moment.

"Get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later."

"Thanks." Peeta says with some relief.

I pull the door closed behind me as I step out in the hall, taking a moment to soak everything in myself. So much planning and effort and sacrifice had gone into getting us to this moment of freedom…shouldn't I feel glad—like Plutarch had said—that we won? If anyone knew about the bitter sweetness of victory, it was certainly me.

It's too soon to know who we else we've lost, but I already know the count will be too great. With Katniss still receiving treatment and Peeta resting, I have nothing else to do to pass the time, so I find a phone and call the command center for an update.

"We've gotten the location of where they're keeping several prisoners and hostages. Word is that Hawthorne was taken there…and possibly Effie Trinket." Plutarch informs me. I release of heavy sigh of relief at the mention of Effie, thankful to whatever Gods might actually still be listening to me that she's survived. "We have gotten our first reports of the dead." Plutarch adds, with hesitancy.

"Who?" I brace myself, not wanting to know who didn't make it…but needing to know. I listen to the long list of names—mostly people from District 13 that I didn't know, a lot of names from Katniss' platoon, and then…

"Finnick Odair."

I feel my mouth go dry as my vision blurs with tears. "Has anyone told Annie?"

"Not yet." Plutarch admits. "We were hoping…since you and Finnick were friends…"

"That I would tell her." I finish for him, angry at the audacity, but not surprised. "Of course you did."

A curt silence follows before Plutarch speaks in a clipped voice, "Will you?"

"Fine. But for now I'm staying here."

"Fine. We'll be transporting the surviving tributes to the capitol in a few days. You can tell her then."

I hang up, not interested in anything else Plutarch has to say and see the medics roll a gurney out of the room they'd been treating Katniss in. I run to catch up as they wheel her down to an empty room. Katniss is unconscious, bandages covering every inch of exposed skin, and I can see the unevenness of her hair where it's been burned off in patches.

"It's going to take a while for the new skin to graft, but she will live." One of the medics informs me as they hook her up to tubes and machines. I pull up a chair next to the bed as the medics leave us alone, and drop my head in my hands as I sit and wait for her to wake up.

For hours I hear nothing but the beep of the machines and the sound of her breathing, but then a voice nearly startles me out of my chair.

"Thought I'd find you here."

I turn to see Gale Hawthorne leaning against the doorframe casually. He looks like he's had a chance to get cleaned up and probably fed after being rescued. I stand and extend my hand to him and he accepts the handshake before looking past me at Katniss.

"She okay?"

"She will be. She's pretty heavily sedated right now, so she's still out."

"Probably for the best." Gale says with a pained look.

"You know about her sister, then?"

He nods, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. "Listen, do you mind if I take over? I'd like to be here when she wakes up."

"Of course. You'll probably be a more welcome sight anyways."

"I doubt that."

I don't ask for him to clarify as I turn to leave.

"The new command is in the mansion." He tells me, then bitterly adds. "They didn't waste any time moving right in."

"I didn't figure they would." My tone just as bitter.

An odd quiet has settled over the Capitol as I walk the stretch back towards the city center. The large screens that usually air advertisements, presidential reports, and the hunger games are repeating a new message from Coin declaring the end of the war and the victory for the people of Panem. She's instructed people to return to their homes—or, if their homes have been destroyed and they have no immediate shelter—to go to assigned areas based on their place of residence. I have to admit that I'm impressed how quickly they've managed to subdue the crowds and even clear the streets.

It doesn't take me half as long to get back to the city circle and past the armed guards keeping watch. I'm immediately ushered up to the second floor, where the command center has been set up. Naturally, Plutarch and Coin are in attendance, debating how to proceed, but I see Paylor, Beetee, and several other familiar faces as well.

"Ah. Haymitch." Plutarch looks almost disappointed to see me, and I have no desire to be involved in any more of their strategies.

"Did you find Effie?"

Plutarch looks to Coin with hesitancy and the District 13 president lifts her chin. "We've given her a room on the east wing, near the room we've assigned to you." Coin tells me by way of explanation. "I'll have someone escort you there, if you like."

"Please." I say through gritted teeth, trying not to voice my discontent at yet another assigned living space.

Coin motions to a guard standing near the door and I follow him up to the 3rd floor and down a long corridor before we stop in front of a door.

"This is Miss Trinket's room." He tells me before pointing at a door behind me. "That will be your room. I will advise you not to wander out of your assigned area. Some of the mansion has been secured as restricted access only."

"And I don't have clearance." Again, it's not a question.

"No." Confirmation that my purpose has been served. I delivered their mockingjay, and they washed their hands of me. I nod my acceptance of this and the guard turns to leave. I wait until he's out of earshot before I take a deep breath and gently knock on Effie's door.

I feel the seconds ticking by, straining to hear any sound behind the heavy wooden door, before it finally opens just a crack. The room is pitch black inside, and for a moment I worry that I've woken her up, but then she flings the door wide open and throws herself into my arms. An erroneous thought flits through my mind that crying women have been throwing themselves at me all day, but I dismiss it quickly and crush Effie against me.

"Haymitch…" She sobs against my chest.

As I bury my nose in her damp hair, I'm struck by the realization that she's not wearing one of her hideous wigs, and breathe in the scent of floral shampoo. "I was so worried." I admit, suddenly unable to speak above a whisper.

"I never thought I'd see you again." She sniffles. I gently guide her back into the room, reaching for a light switch before she grabs my arm. "No! Please…leave it off."

"Why?"

"I can't…I don't want…" She's struggling to speak, and I pull out of her grasp and flip on the light. Effie winces and turns her face away from me in shame. "I'm hideous."

Even with her face slightly turned away from me, I can see the bruise along her pale cheek. I have never seen Effie without makeup or her wigs or her brightly colored Capitol couture, but even when she looks like a complete clown, I never thought her hideous. I gently tip her chin up, bringing her face back around until she meets my eyes. Her strikingly blue eyes are wet and rimmed with red, puffy from crying. Her skin is pale but flawless besides the bruise and a small laceration that bisects the corner of her lips. Her natural hair falls just to the tops of her shoulders and appears to be a soft strawberry blonde.

She's quite possibly one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, and I can't fathom why she would ever hide under all that crap to begin with.

"Sweetheart, you're far from hideous."

Effie looks at me expectantly, waiting for the sarcasm she knows should follow, and blushes when it doesn't come. "Don't tease me, Haymitch," she chides, still skeptical though a single tear slips down her cheek, attesting to the fact that she's touched by my sincerity. "I'm not in the mood."

For a moment, we stand there staring at each other, my forefinger still tucked beneath her chin. There's too much to say but neither of us knows where to begin. I decide to start with an all-encompassing, "I'm so sorry, Effie."

Her eyes shimmer with a fresh round of tears before she finally turns away from me and takes several steps into the room. "Did you know?"

"That you would be arrested?"

She nods tightly.

"I had hoped not, but I knew it was highly probable."

She whirls back around, anger and betrayal evident in her expression. Before I can even blink, she raises her hand and slaps me. "Why didn't you warn me, Haymitch?"

"Believe me, sweetheart, I tried." I snap back, annoyed, rubbing my stinging cheek. "It's not like I could just come right out and say it, now could I? There were bugs and spies everywhere. Snow's a paranoid man, and he watches his victors very closely. Especially those of us who have already defied him."

"Why didn't you take me with you?" Her voice trembles now and fat tears fall from her eyes.

I feel defeated by the simple question, faced with yet another one of my failures in this whole debacle. "Because they took you before I had the chance."

Her lip quivers before she turns away again. "It was horrifying, Haymitch. The most terrifying, humiliating experience of my entire life. I was sure they were going to kill me. When they arrested me, they wouldn't even tell me what crime I was being accused of. They just threw me into a cell and locked me away for days and days. Finally, someone did come around, believing me to be part of the rebellion and insisting I must know something because of my association with you and Katniss. Whenever I told them I knew nothing, they would try to strike the information out of me."

I swallow the sudden anger I feel towards Effie's aggressors, knowing there's nothing I can do about it now, and hang my head in grief at her suffering. "I'm sorry."

"They told me Katniss was dead." I can hear the unspoken question in the wavering murmur.

"She's not. Katniss and Peeta are both alive—in a manner of speaking."

She turns again, and I flinch reflexively, expecting to be slapped again, but find her looking at my quizzically. "What do you mean? ' A manner of speaking?'"

I realize this is going to be a very long conversation, so I gesture to the only sitting space in the room—the bed. "You might as well get comfortable."

Effie doesn't argue and moves to sit primly on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap as she looks at me, waiting for me to speak. I decide the best place to start is at the beginning, when I joined the rebellion the day Katniss laid Rue to rest in a bed of flowers and saluted District 11. I knew then—as did many others—that this insanity had to stop. That was the day Katniss became the Mockingjay to me. It was the first time I had the courage to fight the Capitol since I watched them kill my family and my love.

As I pace the room, telling the story from start to finish as I know it, Effie listens without interruption. I get lost in my own storytelling at times, almost forgetting her presence as I talk through it all, and am only reminded I'm not alone when I hear her sniffle and catch her wiping tears away out of the corner of my eye. By the time I get to the end where I'd been led to Effie's room, and how I had realized that I had outlived my usefulness to Coin and Plutarch, I'm sitting on the floor in front of the bed, looking up at her as I drape my arms over my knees.

She's quiet for a moment as she regards me, taking in everything I've told her. "I never dreamed that something like this could…" She shakes her head, unable to voice the thought. "You're a better man than I've ever given you credit for, Haymitch Abernathy."

"I'm not." I dismiss the compliment as I pull myself to my feet and move towards the window to look out. A light snow is still falling, blanketing the ground with a thin cover and hiding the atrocities that happened here tonight. "A lot of people died that didn't need to. Some of that I had a hand in, some of it I didn't. Either way, I watched others fight while I stayed safe at the command center. I'm exactly the kind of man you've always considered me to be."

"You're a strategist, Haymitch. Fighting has never been your strength. Perhaps the losses would have been greater without you at Command."

I snort in response, not wanting to think about how many more could have died and not believing that I had anything to do with the ones who survived.

She swallows thickly, staring down at her hands. "Do they have names of civilian casualties…from the Capitol?"

"I don't know." I answer honestly. "Why?"

She tries to smile but fails. "My mother and father…and my sister. They won't allow me to try and contact them. I just want to know that they're alright."

I don't know if the Capitol would bother going after someone as remotely removed from an acquaintanceship with Katniss and Peeta as Effie's family, but somehow it wouldn't surprise me. "I guess there's only one way to find out. Put your shoes on."

"What?" Effie looks at me with surprise.

"Put your shoes on." I repeat a little slower and slightly louder.

Effie gives me an annoyed look, but gets to her feet and finds a pair of gold heels. I bite back a laugh as I watch her slip them on. "Nice outfit, sweetheart. Those heels really make that white jumpsuit just pop."

"Shut up, Haymitch." She snips, tartly, smoothing the front of the jumpsuit. "When I was arrested, I didn't exactly get the luxury of packing a bag. When I was rescued, they gave me this to wear, but not any other shoes."

I belated realize that Effie had probably been wearing the same thing during her imprisonment, and rather than try and have it cleaned, whoever had brought her the jumpsuit had decided to just toss Effie's Capitol Couture. Not that I would blame them…under any circumstance.

She eyes my own standard issue District 13 jumpsuit and opens her mouth to speak.

I thrust my finger at her, cutting her off. "Say one word and you're on your own."

Effie gives me a coy smile in return, but says nothing.

As I peek out into the hallway, finding an absence of guards, I can feel Effie at my elbow, her breathing slightly elevated. "I feel like a couple of renegades. Is this what it was like being in the rebellion?"

I look back at her in amusement. "We're not doing espionage, sweetheart; we're sneaking out."

She slaps my arm, but gives me a challenging look. "Well, if we're not up to something, why are we sneaking?"

Though I have no proof, I can feel in my gut that I shouldn't trust Coin and Plutarch. Not now. Not after their big finish to turn the war in their favor. Not after the way they've used us all to position themselves to become the new leaders of the free world. Rather than spend several more minutes trying to explain this to Effie, I simply nod my head. "Good point. Now shut up and follow me."

Weaving our way down the corridor, we encounter only a few guards, who watch us warily as we pass by. Effie and I pretend to be deeply engrossed in conversation about the artwork adorning the walls in the mansion, and to my relief no one butts in to ask us where we're going.

We're able to slip down the stairs to the main floor, but when we get to the front door, our luck runs out.

"I'm sorry; President Coin has instructed that no one is permitted to leave the mansion."

I open my mouth to try and smooth-talk the guard, but Effie beats me to it. "I beg your pardon? Do you have any idea who we are?"

"Uh—"

"Haymitch, run and find the President this instance and inform her that this young man is obstructing us from carrying out her request."

"Request?" The guard looks like he's going to start sweating bullets now.

"Oh! Honestly! I'll go get her myself! Worthless, incompetent—" Effie starts marching away with her head held high and her back straight.

"Wait!" The guard calls out. "Of course, if the President has given you special permission…"

Effie turns and gives him a winning smile. "You're doing a fine job, Solider. I feel quite safe with you guarding the door. Now, you'll be sure not to let anyone else out, hmm?"

"No ma'am."

The guard opens the door and we slip out, hurrying down the front steps. I fight the urge to look back over my shoulder, and as soon as we've passed the guards out front, I laugh. "That was brilliant, sweetheart! How did you know it would work?"

"I didn't." She giggles. "But I've learned to bluff from the best."

She's giving me a sidelong look and there's no mistaking who she means. I give her a rueful smile and nudge her with my shoulder. "Come on, honey. It'll be daylight soon. If we have any chance of getting through the city without being questioned it'll be in the dark."

Effie takes hold of my arm as we walk, shivering against the cold and trying to move in close to me for warmth. She guides me through the city streets until we come to one of the blocks that has been hit the hardest in the attacks on the city. Effie stops dead in her tracks, gripping my arm tightly as she surveys the snow-covered damage.

"That's their apartment." She points to a second-floor window, her voice barely a whisper.

I can feel my stomach churn at the thought of what we might find in any of the apartments on this block. The buildings are blackened with scorch marks, several windows have been broken out, and even one wall of an adjacent building has started to crumble. The street is littered with debris from some kind of explosion, and there is no doubting that there were probably multiple fatalities here, though any bodies have since been collected.

"We should go find out where people on this block have gone for shelter."

"No, I'm going up."

"Effie, there's not going to be anyone there."

"I'm going up, Haymitch." She declares hotly, turning to look at me with tears in her eyes. "You can either come with me, or you can go back to the mansion, but one way or another I have to go in there."

"I'm not leaving you alone out here."

"Then don't argue with me." She wipes away the wetness on her cheeks angrily and turns back towards the building, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as she strides towards the door on shaky legs. I follow Effie silently, offering my hand only when she needs it to help steady herself as we pick our way through the debris. The door sticks as she tries to open it, so I gently guide her out of the way and shoulder it open.

The stairwell to the second floor is dark and the air is stale and ashy, but cold. I suddenly feel like I'm in a mineshaft and shiver as a chill runs down my spine. Where I come from, mineshafts are equivocated with tombs.

Effie manages to get up to the second landing and over to the door of her parent's apartment before I'm even halfway up the stairs, and starts knocking—unnecessarily.

"Mother?" She calls, shakily. "Father?"

Hesitantly, Effie clutches the door knob. It turns easily in her hand and she carefully pushes the door open. I finally reach the landing and move to stand beside her as we peer through the darkness. The emptiness of the entire building has me completely on edge and I can feel the hairs on the back of neck stand up.

There's an angry yowl before a cat shoots out of the apartment between us, nearly giving me a heart attack. "FUCK!" I yell out, nearly pissing myself and slam my open palm on the doorframe. "You could have warned me they have a cat!"

"It didn't exactly cross my mind when I was thinking about finding my family." Effie snaps back, then peers through the darkness to try and see where the cat has gone to. "Do you think she'll be alright? I don't want her to wander too far out there by herself."

"Forget the damn cat, sweetheart. Can we just get out of here?"

"Not yet." Effie takes several tentative steps into the apartment. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I can see that the apartment looks fairly well maintained, though it appears as though someone left in a hurry, judging by the trail of clothes and other items leading down a narrow hallway. Effie bends down and picks up one of the discarded items, hugging it to her chest. "My mother loves this scarf. She must have dropped it when they were trying to get everything together."

"If they had time to throw a suitcase together, that's a good sign, Effie."

"But they left the cat." She sniffles.

"They probably didn't anticipate being gone for too long."

"I suppose you're right." She uses the scarf to wipe her eyes, then wraps it around her neck as she picks through the other items of clothes on the floor.

"What are you doing, honey? We're wasting time."

"I'm looking for a coat, Haymitch; I'm freezing."

I sigh in annoyance, but let her look until she's found something suitable.

"Here." She thrusts something into my hands and I hold up a formal dinner jacket, eyeing it curiously before I look at her in question. "It's not exactly suited for the weather, but at least it's another layer over that horrible jumpsuit."

"Thanks." I shrug into the jacket, which seems two sizes too big for me in the shoulders, and several sizes too short. I hear her stifle a giggle as she reaches forward to button the front of the jacket.

"My father is much shorter than you are…and quite a bit rounder."

The affection in her voice actually brings a smile to my face and when she looks up at me, neither of us can seem to look away. I touch her cheek gently, mindful of the bruise as I swear to her, "We will find them."

When we return to the street, a small platoon of guards is sweeping down the block. I make Effie wait inside the door of the building, not wanting her to be in harm's way in case the guards decide we're in an unauthorized area and remove us by force before they ask nicely. I know we need to find out where her parents might have taken refuge, so I wait until they are close enough to see that I'm no threat before I step out with my arms up.

I hear the click of several guns as they are aimed at me. The platoon leader calls out, "Identify yourself."

"Haymitch Abernathy." I call back, hoping that at least my name will be recognizable, even if my face is not.

"What business do you have here?"

"I'm trying to locate a family that lived on this block. Where would they have gone for shelter?"

"The closest evac center is about 4 blocks back. Do you need an escort there?"

"No, we—I'll find it. Thanks."

The guns shift away from me as the platoon moves on and I feel myself sigh in relief before I motion to Effie. Already the day is growing lighter as the dawn comes and we move as quickly as possible through the streets. Apartments begin to thin out and businesses and shops take their place. Finally, we come to a building that is several stories high and takes up nearly the entire block. Even if it weren't for the sign out front declaring this to be an Evacuation Center, I would have bet anything that it was.

Despite the early hour, the din inside the lobby is quiet loud. People are packed into the area like sardines, some people trying to sleep on makeshift pallets of clothes and blankets, while others are still huddled together and weeping and wondering what will happen to them. Effie's leaning on me for support as she stands on her tiptoes, trying to see all the faces in the room.

"Names?" A female voice asks on my other side. She's holding a clipboard in her hand, a pen poised to take down our names.

"We're looking for someone," I tell her. "Do you have the names of all the families taking shelter here?"

"Yes."

"Trinket." Effie tells her urgently before I can say another word. "Doss, Kestia, and Deora Trinket."

The woman looks over her list, flipping through page after page until she reaches the end. "I'm sorry, there's no one on our list by that name. They could have gone to another shelter."

"Is there any way to find out?"

"Not at this time, I'm afraid. So many families have been separated, but it's tying up the communications systems to let families try to call around and locate their loved ones. Once things settle down, they will begin to try and reconnect families. What are your names, I will put you on my list."

"We're not staying." I tell the woman, taking Effie's shoulders and turning her back towards the door. She's visibly subdued by the news that her family isn't here, but I know if we don't get moving, we'll be stuck here with no connections to command, to Katniss and Peeta, or to her family for the near future.

The woman starts to argue, but I act like I don't hear her as I push Effie back out on the sidewalk. "Where's your apartment?"

"What?" She blinks as if coming out of a trance. "Oh…that way." She gestures vaguely.

"How far?" I ask, grinding my teeth together in annoyance. I can feel the lack of sleep finally catching up with me. I'm tired and cranky and cold, and need Effie's help to guide me around the blasted city before we're found out and brought back to the mansion with no hope of finding her parents.

"I guess about six blocks? I don't live very far from the Training Center."

"Good, we're going there. Lead the way."

"But my parents—"

"Listen sweetheart…" I take Effie's shoulder and lean down until we're eye to eye. "I promised you we'd find them, and we will, but Coin and Plutarch are going to figure out we're gone soon—if they haven't already. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be put under lock and key while they scheme up the new nation. We'll go to your apartment and get some rest, I'll make some calls to see if I can get any leads, and then we'll go back out after dark to continue searching, okay?"

Effie sighs but nods and turns us in the direction of her apartment.

By the time the sun has started to rise, we're safely ensconced inside her posh high rise apartment that has been utterly untouched since she was last here. She looks as exhausted as I feel, but I know that neither of us will get much rest if I don't start making calls.

I start out with the hospital and get transferred to Katniss' room first. Gale is the one who answers on the 3rd ring.

"She still out?"

"They sedated her again." Gale tells me. "She woke up, screaming for Prim, and asked me if the parachutes were my idea."

"Were they?"

"I don't know." Gale says guiltily. "I guess they were, but I didn't think they'd be used like that."

"It's not your fault."

"Yeah…right…"

I tell Gale about our great escape from the mansion and our search for Effie's parents, giving him the phone number to her flat and telling him to have Katniss call me when she's awake. Gale wishes us luck, then hangs up.

"Now what?" Effie asks, biting her nails anxiously.

"Turn on the TV, there's bound to be some kind of emergency broadcast still playing.

The broadcast I had seen earlier has been updated, now listing the sites of all the evac centers in the Capitol. Effie grabs a piece of paper and pen from her kitchen and I quickly jot the names and addresses of the centers so that we can look up the phone numbers later. A telephone number has been given for family members who fear their loved ones are deceased, and I write it down, just in case. She eyes the number on the list with growing despair.

"Is there any point in calling the other shelters if they could be…" I hear the unspoken 'dead' as she's unable to speak it aloud.

While I don't want to give Effie false hope by starting at the top of the list and working out way down, I also don't want to steal whatever hope she has left. "Do you want to call, or do you want me to?"

"I can't." She whispers shakily, her eyes full of tears again.

I nod and pick up the phone, dialing the number with a less than steady hand.

"Names of presumed deceased?" A nasally sounding woman asks by way of greeting.

"Doss, Kestia, and Deora Trinket." I tell her, reaching over to grasp Effie's hand.

"One moment."

I can feel my heart thudding in my chest as I wait to hear the fate of these people I've never met but have suddenly become very important to me. Effie is shaking next to me, tears at the ready in her eyes. The seconds tick by agonizingly slow and I realize I'm holding my breath as the woman comes back on the line.

"Confirmed dead: Doss Trinket, Kestia Trinket, Deora Trinket. Anyone else, sir?"

The words wash over me like a numbing agent and I feel the phone fall from my hand as I sit in shock.

"No…" I hear Effie's weak protest to the news she can only assume to be true. "No! No! NO!"

Effie shrieks at the top of her lungs, throwing herself back on the couch as she howls the most heart-wrenching cries I've ever heard. She's pounding her fists weakly against anything she can—the couch, the coffee table, herself—and I grab her wrists and pull her upright. She's as limp as a ragdoll as she sobs, completely devastated by the loss of her family and I wrap my arms around her tightly, for once knowing exactly how she feels.

I know there's nothing I could possibly say to make her feel better, so I simply hold her and let her cry. Effie loses her voice long before the tears dry up, but after what feels like several hours, she's finally reduced to silent hiccups. She's curled up in my arms, her head against my chest, and I can feel how mentally, physically and emotionally drained she is.

My lips brush the top of her head in a gentle kiss as I slide one arm behind her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her up from the couch. I carry Effie towards what I'm sure is the bedroom and gently lay her down on the bed. Her face is blotching from crying, nose wet and red to match her eyes. Even like this, I wouldn't call Effie hideous. There is a faraway look in her eyes; a vacant, unblinking stare that worries and wounds me. I feel completely helpless.

As I pull back to leave her in peace, her fingers catch my sleeve, and a very hoarse whisper escapes her lips. "Stay."

TBC

Aven is of English origin, meaning "mountain avens." An aven is a plant with white, yellow, or reddish flowers. Since Mrs. Everdeen's parents ran the apothecary in the Merchant area of District 12, I figured they would have given her a name from nature—as she and Mr. Everdeen seem to have carried on the tradition with Katniss and Primrose.