Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
oooOOOooo
"Welcome, welcome!" Effie trilled with forced enthusiasm as she opened the door. "Just take a seat, the avoxes will be happy to serve you in just a moment!"
"Care for a drink?" Haymitch asked their guest with a sweep of his arm to the sofa, indicating where he should sit.
"No, thank you." Mantoli answered as he draped his coat over the back of the couch before sitting down. "I know of your reputation with alcohol, Abernathy."
Haymitch grinned wickedly. "More for me."
"Haymitch," Effie reprimanded, stopping the mentor, and her new colleague, as he picked up a glass. She turned her attention to the man before her. Long brilliant yellow hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his pale neck, light blue eyes with swirling black ink designs in the whites around them, multiple piercings in both ears and an outfit bordering on ridiculous even, Effie thought, by Capitol standards. She forced a sweet smile once more, voice coming out warm and inviting. "Would you like anything to eat?"
"Oh no," Mantoli answered her, eyes raking over her figure just as she sat down, Haymitch sitting a foot or so away from her- for once without a glass of alcohol in hand. "I just ate," he continued explaining after a beat of silence.
Effie nodded understandingly, playing her part as the enchanting hostess. Haymitch cleared his throat from beside her. "So of course you know why you're here."
Mantoli reluctantly turned his eyes away from Effie to the man. "Yes," he answered before hesitating. "Now I can see how your two tributes have a good chance at winning but how can I be sure that one of them will be the victor this year? Why not spend my money on one with better odds?"
Effie smiled at the sponsor before her. "Ah, but these two are different."
"Yes," Haymitch jumped in at her pointed look. "Did you see the girl's training score? Didn't you watch as the boy made the strategic move of immediately aligning with the biggest tribute pack in the Games?"
"Who now want to kill him."
"Yes, but it's not him we're aiming to get out of the arena," Haymitch said, a hint of impatience layering his voice. "It's the girl. Peeta is already trying to save her, she's surviving quite well on her own, and you've seen the same footage I have. Look me in the eye and tell me her odds of winning this thing aren't higher than anyone could have expected."
It was, Effie thought, an impressive argument. She may hate Haymitch Abernathy with a passion; his lack of manners, tact, propriety and other social qualities making him absolutely repulsive to her. The way he chose to drown himself in alcohol, to live in his own stink. How he was so closed off and just unhappy. Effie was almost his polar opposite, and she detested the man that, if she was being perfectly honest, should just do himself the favour of picking up the gun and end his own misery. However he either didn't have the courage or willpower to do so. She may hate him but he did know how to work sponsors when he put his mind to it.
"And we all know that when you put enough pressure on coal it turns into pearls!" She squeals, jumping back into the conversation. "Who's to say our tributes from the coal district won't do the same?"
She hears Haymitch snort from beside her and turns, sending him a glare to be quiet which he, thankfully, complies to, obviously understanding her meaning behind it. Despite only meeting this year for the Games, Effie has found they can read each other quite well.
"Right," he said with restrained laughter in his voice. "All we're saying is that you should definitely bet on these two. This year District 12 isn't going down without a fight- in fact if Effie and I have anything to do about it," Haymitch says, glancing at her, "one of them won't be going down at all."
Mantoli studied them both for a few seconds before nodding. "Well," he said. "They do seem to have a fighting chance. And I can't honestly say that I don't want one of the star crossed lovers to go home to District 12, maybe lighten the place up." He pursed his lips before nodding, finally. "I'm in."
Effie squealed and looked over at Haymitch in joy as Mantoli pulled out his cheque book, reaching out to take his hand in her happiness. He met her eyes and smiled, a smile of relief, and Effie can tell that even if the gruff man doesn't show it so much, he's just as happy as her to have won over the man before them.
That wasn't so hard really, she mused to herself as she shook Mantoli's hand and led him to the door. It wasn't so bad working with Haymitch when he wasn't drunk and insulting. At least he wasn't completely incompetent.
And she would only realize it looking back later, but that meeting had been the beginning of an amazing team.
oooOOOooo
"Oh yes," Effie nodded in response to a Capitol citizen's compliment. "Yes, I am so proud of my pearls from District 12. They really are stunning aren't they? And I'm just so happy they made it out together, you know, because they both love each other so much."
The purple haired, fake breasted female before her nodded. "Of course, this is your first victor- or should I say victors- isn't it? You must be so happy."
"Hmm," Effie nodded in agreement, noticing Haymitch on his way over to her from across President Snow's ballroom. Over the course of the 74th Hunger Games, actually winning the Games, all of the parties, closing celebrations and now here, on the Victory Tour, Effie had acquired first a grudging respect, and then an almost unthinkable liking for the man. He was vulgar, yes, absolutely vulgar; but those rare moments when she saw him watching Katniss and Peeta with fondness in his eyes, the times he would annoy her and insult her with words that had quickly become almost endearing… she loved those moments. They showed the side of him that hadn't closed itself off by drowning itself in alcohol, or numbed itself from pain by not opening up. It showed Effie that despite what he liked you to think, there was still a part of Haymitch that cared for and protected people.
She had learned, partly from late, sometimes drunken, conversations with him, partly from talking with others and her own research that he had lost too many people close to him. She now knew and understood why he acted the way he did, protecting himself from caring again, making himself repulsive to others so that they didn't want to be near him. Didn't want or try to care about him. She knew why he did it, but that didn't mean it worked.
Peeta cared about him, the silly, loving, protecting boy that he was. Even Katniss, with all her cool exterior and walls that were impossible for Effie herself to break through, looked to the mentor with an almost daughter like affection.
And Effie, despite how much she told herself not to, cared about Haymitch. Sometimes she felt like he was her only real friend, one to confide in. Effie, being the selfish creature she was at heart, piled her problems on him when he already had so much to deal with in the first place. But she sensed it helped him, in some way. Focusing on other people's problems was better than dwelling on his own.
They had had many a late night conversation on the train- never in a bedroom of course that just wouldn't be proper. Him sharing piece by little piece of himself and his thoughts with her, her ranting about things as inconsequential as fashion or trends to things as important as the dictatorship of their world and how sometimes she was just so tired of acting like it was all okay. Of pretending that she didn't hate herself sometimes when she was left alone.
"Hey sweetheart," he greeted her now, sarcastically, sliding up next to her and wrapping an arm around her waist, one she quickly slapped away. He laughed at her as she felt the loss of heat. "Miss me?"
She sighed at him, exasperated, and turned to the woman she was talking to. Belinda? Linda? She couldn't really remember. "This," she said in a light tone, "is the mentor of District 12, winner of the 50th Hunger Games-"
"Haymitch Abernathy," the unnamed woman said, her voice changing to be almost a purr. Effie's eyes shot over to her and saw the green eyes sweep over Haymitch in obvious appreciation.
Disgust filled Effie at the sight. Haymitch wasn't even that attractive. Really, what was it that drew these stupid women to victors of past Games? Just because they won a competition doesn't make them amazing. For all this girl knew Haymitch could be a heinous human being.
Which wasn't all that far from the truth.
Effie decided at that moment that she didn't like the woman.
"In the flesh," Haymitch took a mock bow and jolted ever so slightly, Effie was sure she was the only one to catch it. When he stood up she detected a faint trace of alcohol on his breath.
But she ignored it.
"Haymitch, you know, I think this is the perfect time for a dance!" Effie exclaimed, forced enthusiasm lacing her tone.
Haymitch dragged his eyes away from the woman in front of him, who was obviously attempting to flirt with him, and looked at Effie. "Not a chance."
"Come on! It'll be fun." Effie smiled and grabbed his hand, feeling something jittery go through her as she did.
It must have been the alcohol of her previous drink.
"Trinket-"
She smiled sweetly at him, pink lips pulled up, eyes sparkling, pink hair framing her face in one of her few wigs with hair down.
Haymitch sighed. "Fine," he muttered. "As if I have a choice."
"Exactly," Effie replied easily before leading him onto President Snow's ballroom dance floor.
This victory tour party was in full swing and Effie was enjoying every minute of it. She ignored the puking sounds coming from bathrooms and smiled and waved at anyone whose eyes she met.
Haymitch was her saviour from the overwhelming fakeness of it all.
This was her night, the time for showing off her victors, and Effie made a good show of doing it. She paraded them around, introducing them and such, before they went off to dance and she started mingling herself. But Capitol conversations grew increasingly boring after a while and Haymitch, if nothing else, was not boring.
"Effie," he spoke as they turned to be face to face. "I really don't dance."
"Well now," she said, "you can practice."
He sighed and took her right hand in his left, wrapping the other around her waist and pulling her a bit closer. Victory, she decided, was hers at the moment.
"So what do you really look like underneath all of this crap," he said after a few seconds, gesturing with one hand to her wig, excessive makeup, dress and other attire.
Effie paused a bit before moving again, something Haymitch definitely noticed. "Terrible," she said.
He snorted. "As if I believe that."
"Believe it," she said quietly, not kidding around. "Compared to everyone else I'm so…. plain. Boring. If you took this off of me," she said, meaning the makeup and the outfit, "and placed me in a room with 50 others you either wouldn't notice me or you'd skip right over me."
She raised her eyes to meet his and saw him staring at her, an intense look on his face. "Is that really so bad?" He asked her.
She nodded. "For me, yes. Maybe not for you."
"You know I haven't even seen your actual hair." He said.
She nodded. "And you probably never will."
"What colour is it?" He pressed.
She frowned. "Haymitch-"
"C'mon, Trinket. Nothing wrong with telling me that is there?"
"No," she said after a second. "It's… blonde."
Haymitch took the information in quietly, spinning them around in a small, tight circle. "You seem like the type," he said after a bit.
"Insult or compliment?" She asked him.
He grinned. "I'll never tell."
"Well I'm going to take it as a compliment," she said, a lighter tone entering her voice. "Blonde hair is the hair of angels."
He snorted. "God, Trinket, you can always boost your own self-esteem can't you?"
"Hush," she told him. "Just shut up and dance with me, Abernathy. For all you know it might be the last chance you have."
Her words quieted him and they danced in silence for the rest of the song. And then, right as she was pulling away, he pulled her flush to him, ignoring her slight yelp of surprise.
"For what it's worth," he whispered in her ear, shivers running through her from the words," I think the real you would look beautiful."
Then he stepped back, took her hand and kissed the back of it, winking, before walking away.
Probably to find the bar.
oooOOOooo
She heard his yells as she walked past his room to her own on the train heading back to District 12. They were loud and full of fear and despite the fact that Effie had heard them a thousand times before she took a breath to steady herself at the sound.
She stopped outside his door, hesitating as she always did, every night before going to bed. She knew that he knew she did it, having seen her sometimes. But they never said anything and it had become a habit for these train rides. So she listened and winced occasionally. The yells grew louder before they suddenly stopped and then Effie heard the whimpers.
They were always worse than the yells.
She knew he dreamed of the arena. He had told her once. She couldn't imagine, it had ruined her love of the Games slightly, to know what it did to the victors after they won. Even now, years after his own games were all but forgotten, Haymitch had nightmares and couldn't sleep without lights on in his room and a knife under his pillow gripped safely in his hand.
Her wig was still on, green today, but her makeup and fancy outfits were gone. Her feet were in slippers, she was dressed in a plain slip, just enough to keep her warm and covered for sleeping in. Everyone else- being Peeta and Katniss- were already in their own compartments, asleep. Or together. Effie didn't bother about it anymore, it was sweet despite the lack of care for appearances.
She stopped and usually after a few seconds she would move on when it grew quiet. But tonight it didn't go quiet, the whimpers got progressively louder and she couldn't help but place her hand on the doorknob.
With only a seconds hesitation, she turned it. Everybody was asleep, there was nobody up to see this. Besides, it wasn't like they would do anything; Effie just wanted to make sure he was alright, wake him up if she needed.
So she opened the door and stepped in quickly, closing it behind her. "Haymitch," she hissed as she turned around.
He shot up in his bed with a cry, knife out before he had even opened his eyes. When they focused he saw her dimly from the brightness of the nightlights around them.
"Trinket?" He asked in surprise, knife dropping to his side. "What the hell are you doing here?"
She hesitated before answering. "It seemed bad tonight."
He looked at her for a few seconds, wary, surprised and slightly confused because she had never actually come into his room before, until he sighed and fell backwards onto the mattress, dragging a hand over his face.
"They're just nightmares," he said quietly, and she wondered if he was speaking to her or himself.
She nodded, taking a tentative step forward. "I- I just wanted to make sure you were alright."
He snorted. "Have you ever heard of someone dying from a dream?"
She frowned at his mocking words. "Haymitch."
He sighed. "Alright, I'm sorry, sweetheart." He hesitated. "I'm fine."
She took several more steps forward until she was a foot away from the bed and he turned his head to look at her and his grey eyes suddenly looked so tired and scared that Effie made a decision.
"Move over."
If he was surprised before it was nothing compared to now. "Trinket?"
She rolled her eyes. "Move over." She repeated.
He smirked at her. "What about propriety? Or is this your way of seducing me?"
"You're vile," she snapped, leaning forward slightly to push at him. "Move, I said."
He did, moving over so that he was lying on his back, arm brushing the wall. She carefully sat down and lifted up her legs, turning to lay on her back beside him, their arms touching. Her above the comforter, him beneath.
"You don't have to do this," he said after a bit of hearing nothing but their own breaths. "I'm fine, I've been having these damned things for years."
"Maybe," she said. "But I like to make sure."
Eventually she turned her head to look at him, surprised to find he was already studying her. "You shouldn't be here, you know."
"Oh, I know," Effie said. "If anybody caught me I'd be mortified- absolutely mortified! It goes against everything, what would the children think if they knew? But nobody will catch me, I made sure everybody was already asleep or else I wouldn't have come."
"But what if they do?" Haymitch asked her. "It wouldn't be good for either of us. Me or you."
She frowned slightly. "Is the thought of us…" She cleared her throat. "Would it really be so hard for you to bear? It would just be teasing, even I could handle that."
"No," he shook his head. "It isn't that. If somebody caught you and word got back to Snow- if he thought I actually cared about you," he gave a bitter laugh and shook his head, not finishing his sentence.
She felt a flash of hurt at his words, surprised at their cruel nature. "Well I can leave," she said, more coolly than before. "If it would really be so horrendous for you-"
"No, no, god Trinket you can be clueless," he said. "Now that you're here you might as well stay."
She frowned. "Actually I think I'll go. I've seen that you're fine, that's all I wanted to know, if you'll just excuse me-"
He reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could move. "Effie," he said, using her real name for once in a serious voice. "Don't go. Not yet."
It was the closest Haymitch Abernathy would ever come to begging and Effie decided that for her it was good enough.
"The kids did well on the tour," Effie said after she had settled back down. "The Districts were… more lively than usual, but that's only to be expected I suppose."
"How's that?" Haymitch asked her quickly, almost panicky.
She looked back over at him in surprise. "Well they love the star-crossed lovers from District 12," Effie said. Really, it should be obvious, even to Haymitch. "Although the mishap with Peeta giving away his winnings to 11's tribute families…. well that can be looked over." She said, purposely trying to put a positive spin on things. "In all I thought it went fine."
"Yes," Haymitch agreed quietly. "Fine."
They were quiet for a long time, not really wanting to break the silence. Effie was calm here, laying beside Haymitch. He gave off warmth and the pillow was so soft behind her head, the mattress so comfortable on her back that she just wanted to fall asleep….
"I loved a girl once." Haymitch's quiet voice broke her sleep inclined thoughts and she looked up at the dark ceiling in surprise.
"I know."
She heard him turn his head to look over at her, him being the surprised one now. "You're a victor," Effie said dryly. "I know almost everything about your personal life."
He was quiet at that for a bit. "I'm the reason she's dead." He said finally.
She sighed, not exactly surprised. "No," she countered, knowing he needed to hear a denial of the words. "You're not. Snow is."
"I made them look stupid, Effie, using the force field to kill the other tribute. Snow may have given the order, but I gave the motivation."
"Is this really how you think?" She finally turned her head to look at him, surprised at the self loathing and hatred she saw in his eyes. "That you're to blame for your family, your friends… that girl, all of them dying?"
He snorted bitterly. "Who else is there to blame?"
"How about the Capitol?" She snapped, surprised at her words. The Capitol was her home and she loved most of the people there but she couldn't stand seeing Haymitch like this. "Snow? He's the biggest problem. What about the Gamemakers? The Peacekeepers who follow blindly? Any of them could hold more blame than you."
She waited for him to answer but he didn't, he just watched her, his breathing heavy.
"It's not a bad thing to care about people, Haymitch," she whispered. "You shouldn't be afraid to love."
She didn't expect him to respond, or if he did, she expected a sarcastic or bitter answer.
She was not, however, expecting him to kiss her.
She was so surprised that she didn't even realize in full what was happening at first. Through her surprise though, she felt warmth and something fluttered in her stomach- something, she acknowledged silently, that felt suspiciously like hope. She realized she liked the feel and taste of his lips and wanted him to continue.
But then she snapped out of it. She was in nothing more than a slip, he was half naked in his bed. It was the middle of the night and this wasn't proper.
And even though she liked the taste of alcohol at the realization that Haymitch was drunk it caused the miniscule flutter of hope to die and she pulled away. Why would she expect him to be sober when she had seen him drinking earlier? He probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning and for some reason the thought made her want to cry.
She stood up, adjusting her wig and article of clothing, leaving him staring after her. "Get some sleep, Haymitch. I'll see you in the morning when we get to 12."
And she left.
When she woke up and went to breakfast Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch were all there already. She avoided the mentors eyes, instead asking Katniss and Peeta how they had both slept, before finally turning to the older man. For appearances sake only, she couldn't very well look like she was mad at him could she?
"And you?" She asked him, slightly cold but not noticeably so. "How did you sleep? Any disturbances?"
He held her eyes for a moment before frowning. "Not at all, slept like a baby. Why, was there some meeting I wasn't aware of that should have woken me?"
She nodded, not answering him and proceeded to butter her toasted bread. It was to be expected really. He was Haymitch Abernathy, she couldn't have expected that any of last night had been real.
oooOOOooo
"On the seventy-fifth anniversary-" Snow's voice rang throughout Effie's apartment from her TV as he read the card from the envelope. Excitement rose in her, and she perched on the edge of her seat, waiting for the words to follow. "-as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest of them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."
Effie, glass of wine in hand, froze at the words, her brain processing them slowly, as if they had been spoken in a foreign language.
Existing… pool… of victors?
Oh god.
Her wine slipped and fell but she didn't notice it and suddenly she was shutting off the TV, not being able to stand the sight of President Snow's face any longer, the evil smile that seemed to adorn his face.
The existing pool of victors. For District 12 that meant… oh dear god, that meant Katniss. Definitely Katniss. And Peeta, oh no they would have to fight each other. And if not Peeta than…..
She paled, empty hand falling to her side as she sat on the couch. Haymitch. She had been partnered with him for so long that she forgot he was a previous victor. Oh god, if Haymitch went back in the arena-
-he wouldn't survive. Not a chance, not against 23 other tributes. And if Haymitch didn't survive then Effie, Effie….
She didn't know if she could live without Haymitch. Sometimes it seemed like he was the only one who could still make her smile. He had been her friend for almost a year now, a close friend, someone to count on despite how strange that sounded in reference to him. Their relationship had grown alarmingly fast and she realized, with a jolt that he had become necessary to her, in the way that water was necessary for survival.
Haymitch had become necessary for her survival.
She sagged, breathing hard. But if Haymitch didn't go than it would have to be Peeta, and Effie, hating herself for being so selfish, suddenly wished that was what would happen. Even if it meant sending Peeta and Katniss back in against one another, the appalling truth was that Effie choose that over sending Haymitch back to another arena any day.
If Haymitch's name was drawn-
And then a thought struck her. She would be the one pulling the names. Reading Katniss Everdeen off of the slip of paper, the one Fate used to show their choice of the boys.
She would be the one either putting Peeta or Haymitch back into the hell they had thought they were free from.
She gasped, lunging for the phone on the table beside her couch. Dialling without thinking it through, she waited as it rang once, then twice, before the voice on the other end finally picked up.
"What the hell do you think you're calling me for, Trinket?!"
Haymitch's voice was hard and angry and so bitter that Effie could practically feel the walls she had slowly worn down build back up again.
"You heard," she said, still not really processing what she was doing or saying. "You must have heard, seen the TV…"
He was quiet for a second, his laboured breathing the only sound coming through the phone and she wondered if he was drunk or drinking. Probably. Knowing Haymitch. Alcohol was his only coping strategy.
"'Course I heard," he said finally before heaving the biggest sigh she'd ever heard. "Not much I can do about it though is there?"
Effie closed her eyes, feeling a tear slip and fall down her cheek. "I don't want it to be you."
He barked a vicious laugh and she flinched but kept the phone pressed close to her ear. Not wanting to miss anything he said. "You'd rather send the lovebirds in against each other?"
She didn't answer, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block out the horrible nightmare that had started the moment Snow put that card down. "Does that make me a horrible person?" She whispered.
He was quiet before answering, as if surprised. "Effie," Haymitch sighed, "I don't think you could be a horrible person if you tried."
"If- If I pull out your name, I'll loathe myself. I really will." Effie replied.
"Peeta would volunteer for me," Haymitch replied without thought.
"How do you know?" Her surprised voice came through the line and he sank back deeper in his chair at the round table, cradling the bottle of whiskey he held in his arms.
"He came to see me," Haymitch said. "The moment after Snow stopped speaking he burst through my door, talking about saving the girl." He sighed yet again, hearing Effie's quiet cry on the other end of the line. "And I'm sure when she realizes this effects more than just her, she'll come in here to do the same for him."
"Oh god," Effie said, her voice cracking so audibly he heard it through the phone. "And I want to send them both back there…."
He thought over her words for a moment. She really would choose to save him if she could, he thought. It was a pleasant surprise, in the midst of the worst day of his life.
"You're not a bad person Effie."
"And if I choose his name?" She demanded suddenly. "Would you volunteer for him?"
He froze because he really didn't know the answer to that question. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. It all depended whose name she drew out of that bowl.
"I don't know," he replied, suddenly angry. "It's not exactly an easy decision, sweetheart."
She was quiet and suddenly Haymitch couldn't bear to talk to her any longer, didn't want to hear her voice, or imagine her face, or anything to do with her.
"The girl is here," he muttered, even though she wasn't. "I'll see you for the next Games, sweetheart."
And then he slammed the phone down, nursing the biggest need to get drunk and feeling something almost like guilt rise in his stomach.
If she drew Peeta's name would he do something? What would the rebels want him to do, because that was his main concern. If he could keep Katniss safe he would go, without a doubt, she was who they needed alive. But given his age, his condition…well. He wasn't exactly sure he could keep her alive. And what if Effie drew his name and Peeta didn't volunteer? What then?
It was terrible, and unjust, but Haymitch thinks he might have ended up hating Effie with everything he had for sending him back to the one place he knew he wouldn't survive again.
oooOOOooo
"And Effie?" He asks Plutarch as he stood across the table from the Head Gamemaker. "What about her?"
Plutarch hesitated, his eyes searching Haymitch questioningly, obviously confused. "Well, despite you asking for her to be removed she wasn't really the highest on our list." The man hedged and Haymitch narrowed his eyes a bit, his stomach clenching at the suspicion Plutarch confirmed with his next words. "Of course we tried, but- well, I'm sorry Haymitch but we didn't get her out. We think Snow has her." Plutarch finished.
Haymitch nodded, not letting him or Finnick see just how affected he was by the words. In fact, he didn't really know why he cared all that much. Effie was from the Capitol, she was everything Haymitch hated. Air-headed, fake, perky, and a liar. She was annoying and shallow and deluded herself into behaving as if the things that went on around her were perfectly normal.
But she was more than that, and he knew it. Right now he just wasn't willing to acknowledge it.
Effie was one of the only- if not the sole- friends Haymitch had. She had been with him through a lot and despite what she acted like, he knew she wasn't stupid. She would figure out what was going on and when she did… would she hate him? He didn't know if he could stand that, Effie hating him, but he knew he couldn't stand her to be dead. She had been the one to give him a quick and unnoticed hug before the reaping of the 75th Games. Seen and felt only by him. She had squeezed him comfortingly, reassuringly, before stepping back and fucking smiling because she was Effie Trinket and she knew that Haymitch needed her to be strong. And she had been. For him.
And he hadn't even managed to save her.
He took a deep breath, fighting back the loss, aware that both Heavensbee and Finnick were watching him curiously. And why wouldn't they? Why should Haymitch be so affected by the absence of one Capitol woman's presence?
He himself didn't know. And now, he might not even get the chance to find out.
oooOOOooo
She protests at the start, appalled at the way she is being treated. The escort of the two most famous victors of all time, being shoved with guns pointing at her back. Their steps echo in the quiet, almost blinding white hallway and she is actually confused as to why these guards in their Peacekeeper uniforms are escorting her like this. She wonders where Haymitch is, whether he's being subjected to something like this, if this was something for all of the escorts and mentors, or maybe just escorts because it can't possibly be just her because there is absolutely nothing she's done to warrant this. Then, when they throw her in a dark, damp room, she understands.
She is a prisoner. A captive.
And she can guess why.
She heard rumors of the rebellion, never quiet fully believing it. She suspects Haymitch must have been involved, or at least hopes he was; because if he wasn't he is probably locked away alone in a cell as well and she doesn't want that for him.
She is confused and as time goes on she is confused, tired and hungry. She sleeps the best she can on the cold stone floor beneath her. She has on nothing but a night slip. Her wigs, makeup, fancy clothing, shoes and jewelry all gone. She is practically naked here, in this place, and she despises whoever did it to her.
It seems as if she is no longer being overlooked.
Days pass, or at least she thinks they do, and she grows skinny, dangerously skinny. Her eyes become used to the darkness, to not seeing any light, hearing no sound but her own laboured breathing. She screams, sometimes, when she can muster up the energy and emotion, but most of the time she sits, huddled in a corner and tries to think of other things or not think at all.
Her mind grows foggy and thinking becomes harder to do. Sometimes she feels as if she can't breathe and she knows she should sleep more but it's just so hard to sleep in the cold against that stone. It's rough and uncomfortable and she can smell her own waste from the bucket they so generously provided in the other corner.
This place quickly becomes the scene of her nightmares.
One day she hears yells and she thinks she may have heard the boy from 12's voice, Gale, and then there was a groan that makes her think of Peeta. People are yelling and there are shots being fired and Effie is banging on her door with all the strength she has left-which isn't much- and screaming her hoarse throat bloody but they don't stop, not hearing or not caring, and the sounds fade. Then guards are jogging past, more guns are shot and after that the silence consumes her once more.
She thinks that is the moment she gives up her will to live. When she had freedom so close but couldn't actually take it.
Because it was a rescue mission, it had to be. And from what she hears Peeta, Johanna and Annie are all gone now.
She is the only prisoner left. The only one who wasn't on the rebels rescue list.
She resists the urge to laugh bitterly, knowing it would cause her throat to bleed again. Overlooked once more.
Haymitch's face appears in her mind and she tries not to let the hurt and utter betrayal she feels destroy her.
oooOOOooo
"And Effie?" Haymitch asks Gale in the council room after the talking has all died down and people are processing the information the boy has just unleashed on them. "Did you see her?"
The boy raises his eyes and something almost like revulsion flickers in them at the mention of Effie's name. He hesitates and in that hesitation Haymitch wants to punch him because Gale has no reason to despise Effie when the stupid boy doesn't even know her.
Because she has been gone, alone, missing, for too long and he is finally starting to seriously worry and he seems to be the only one. He wonders why no one else cares about the escort before realizing that they have no reason to. Effie was just that to them, an escort. To Gale she was the one who drew Prim's name and put his beloved in the Games because of it. To Gale, Effie might be the one to blame for all of this.
But isn't this good, what's happening now? Rising against the Capitol, taking back freedom, fighting Snow?
It is, Haymitch realizes. But he wants Effie to be here so he can stop his damned worrying and she can get mad at him for his drinking again. Because goddammit he misses that and wants it back, those arguments and the way they bicker. The way he can actually talk to her because she seems to understand, or at least acts like she does, and he can't help but remember the way she cried while on the phone to him after Snow read the Quarter Quell card, and the way her lips felt against his the night he kissed her. Or it could have been a dream. He'd dreamt of Effie more than once, but that one felt more real than most.
Haymitch doesn't understand why he's the only one who could see that Effie cares about Katniss and Peeta almost as much as he himself does. Doesn't understand why Katniss isn't demanding her return. Haymitch can't do it, he's supposed to hate the woman, but Katniss… if Katniss asked for Effie back who would dare say no to her?
Right now Haymitch doesn't even know if she's still alive, doesn't even know if she's a captive of Snow's. She could have gone and hid somewhere and fucking killed herself for all he knows.
Although that doesn't seem like Effie.
"No," Gale finally answers. "I didn't see her. There was one cell where the person inside might have been her, but by that time the guards were chasing us and we didn't have the time to stop and check."
Boggs nods from beside the boy. "He's right, Haymitch, there was no way we could risk the entire mission for the possibility of Effie Trinket being alive."
And it's those words, that damn sentence, that really sends Haymitch into silence. He thinks over Boggs words and notices people around him go on with their conversation, but he no longer listens and they don't notice. Finally, when everyone's been quiet for a minute or two, he leaves without saying a word, not caring what they say behind his back because all he wants to do is find a bottle and drink himself to unconsciousness.
oooOOOooo
"Haymitch," Plutarch appears in his doorway and he looks up from the bottle he's been staring at and seriously debating drinking.
"What?" He snaps. "Has Katniss finally snapped out of it and returned to the real world or is she still singing away in that god damned room?"
Plutarch winces. "No. It's not Katniss."
"Peeta?"
Plutarch shakes his head.
"Who then?!" Haymitch snaps, his patience gone.
"It's Effie," Plutarch says after a second. "We found her."
And then Haymitch is up faster than either he or Plutarch expected and shoving his way out the door. "Where?" He demands and when Plutarch answers the hospital he takes off at a run, not caring about fucking appearances or propriety anymore, only caring that Effie is actually alive and there and why didn't anyone tell him before?
When he finally stops he is breathing heavily and Plutarch jogs to a stop behind him. The glass is the only thing separating him from the medics, the machines and her.
He watches from outside, sees them swarm around one bed, arms moving, tools being handed off and all he can do is force himself to breath because when he catches a glimpse of Effie she does not look how he imagines her in his head.
No makeup, no fancy wig or costume or ridiculous heels and jewelry. She is just Effie and Haymitch thinks that despite her paleness and sunken features from lack of nutrients, she is exactly how he thought she would be without all the artificial things.
Beautiful.
But he'll never say it out loud to anyone and if they ask he'll deny it because he's Haymitch Abernathy and he just doesn't give a shit.
But right now he's allowed to think it and hope that she'll be okay. He and Plutarch talk to the doctors, import medicines and nutrients and food and everything they ask for because Effie will not die. Not now, when he finally has her back to tease and annoy.
He won't let her leave. This time he won't let her slip through his fingers.
oooOOOooo
"Haymitch."
He turns at the sound of his name in her voice and freezes at the sight that meets him. At 5'6 she's shorter than him, and her skin is much too pale, her hair much too flat and dry and not perfect for this to possibly be Effie Trinket.
Her eyes, normally alight with some sort of glint, are now dull and they are the only things the same in her appearance apart from her height and yet he can't help but think they are the things that differentiate from the Effie Trinket he used to know the most.
But they shine when they look at him and he takes a step forward, subconsciously, unaware that he does so.
"Effie," he says hoarsely before clearing his throat. "God, am I glad to see you sweetheart."
And then she's laughing and next thing he knows she's in his arms and he's holding her while she shakes with laughs and then sobs, or maybe it's him sobbing and he doesn't know anymore. He just feels the wetness seep into his shirt and finds he doesn't give a damn, he'll let her ruin 100 shirts if he's allowed to hold her and know she's actually okay, this annoying woman who's been the bane of his existence for over a year.
He's hugged her before of course, and danced with her, kissed her once and even on occasion held her, but this is different and intimate and somehow it touches him in his core. She is way too skinny, unhealthily so, but she is here and alive and for the moment he's grateful for that small miracle.
"You're awake," he says, swallowing loudly. "When did that happen?"
Her head is buried in his chest and she smells him, taking in the smell of raw alcohol and a faint hint of purely him that intoxicates her.
"A few days ago," she said. "I asked them not to tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise."
"You're evil, woman."
She laughs a bit, but it's shattered so she stops. "So? Are you surprised?"
He nods above her and she smiles. "Good."
They're quiet for minutes, just holding each other, before he sighs and pulls away. "Effie-"
"Shhh," she says, placing a finger on his lips. She looks up, meeting his eyes, and can't help but melt softly, feeling warmth when for weeks she's only felt cold. "You're the one who fought for me," she whispered. "Who kept reminding them to search and try to find me."
He swallowed again. "How do you know that?"
She let out a gasp of air that was almost a laugh but not really. "Plutarch told me," she said. "You and him were the only ones who fought to keep me alive."
Haymitch closed her eyes and pulled her in close again, holding her. "Of course I did," he almost growled. "We're a team, remember? The four of us," he added.
She nodded before whispering quietly. "Thank you."
He broke the silence once more. "God, I missed you Trinket."
She smiled and he felt it through his shirt. "I missed you too Haymitch, more than you'll ever know."
And because they are Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy, that is the closest thing they'll ever come to affection or declarations of their feelings for one another.
He sends her on to go get cleaned up, choosing not to comment on her state of appearance, storing it away for a later time.
Katniss finds him later that day, drinking once more in Effie's absence, and when she asks him for help he can't help but snap at her because he's sick of hearing about her problems and more focused on his own right now.
"What is it, sweetheart, more boy trouble?"
Because she doesn't even seem to know that Effie's back and if she does she doesn't care and Effie's all he can think about right now so he snapped. But at the look on her face he regrets his words and tries to take them back, but as he does she's already left.
oooOOOooo
"You're going back to the Capitol."
It's not a question, it's a statement and she swallows the emotions rising in her at his words.
"Of course I am," she answers Haymitch, choosing truth to fight his anger and hurt. "It's the only home I've ever had."
"How-?" He asks before swallowing. "How can you go back there?"
She sighs and turns from her packed bag on her bed to look at him. "How can you go back to a place that's a ruin of your former home?"
He steps forward, but then hesitates, stopping. His face, for once, is unguarded and she wonders if that is regret that flickers in his eyes. "You could come to 12-"
"Or you could come to the Capitol." She says, hardly knowing what they're saying or trying to say to one another anymore. She's wondering if they're silently asking each other to move in, wondering if this is a way of him asking for them to be together, but she doesn't know and the uncertainty is what stops her. "You know I could never live in 12."
He smiles at her ruefully. "And I'm not fit for the Capitol."
They stand and stare at each other, walls coming up and crumbling simultaneously and she finally realizes, finally understands, what is going on between them.
She supposes she might love him. But now it is too late.
"Who knows," she says after the silence. "Maybe I'll visit. To see Katniss and Peeta… you. When they all stop looking at me like- like I killed their families. As if I'll betray them at the first opportunity."
He nods, swallowing, forcing composure. "Sure."
"And you?" She asks. "Would you ever come back just to visit?"
He watches her carefully, noticing her reactions and the things she isn't saying. "Depends on who's waiting for me."
She nods. "So this isn't goodbye."
"No. It's not."
She laughs dryly to herself and shakes her head. "And to think I used to hate you."
He rolls his eyes. "I used to abhor you."
She smiled softly, stepping towards him. "And now here we are."
"Here we are."
"Take care of them," she commands softly, speaking of Peeta and Katniss.
"'Course," he says. "But it won't be the same without you there."
She grins. "I'm kind of counting on that."
Because if they asked her to stay with them all, she just might say yes.
And it's that hope that keeps both Haymitch and Effie alive.
oooOOOooo
First Hunger Games fic, how was it? Effie and Haymitch are practically the only couple on any fandom that isn't canon that I ship and I know nothing happens in the books and since I like to stick to what actually happens in books, I tried to keep it realistic. Did it work? I hope so.
Review and tell me how I did? Maybe? Pretty please? Cause you love me and wanna put a big fat smile on my face?
Love you all!
Percyjacksonfan3