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Please be aware that I own none of the characters mentioned in this story.

Warnings: Physical Abuse, Substance Abuse and Language.


The air was frigid, cold enough to send shivers down his back. Flurries of snow swirled around him, and a sneaky breeze played on the back of his neck. He pulled his collar further up, before sticking his hands deeper into his pockets where he could feel his flask gently bumping against his fingertips. The pavement was icy in parts, the street cleaners unable to keep up with the storm. Tomorrow they would be up at dawn again, clearing paths for the business men to get to work, while their wives spent another day shopping and gossiping.

Such empty lives they led in comparison to how he had grown up. Shopping was never a pleasure for his mother, but rather a never-ending worry about how they could afford a new pair of shoes for him, as well as keep food on the table for the rest of the month.

He glanced behind him as he walked. The shows of the evening were starting to end, taxis were lined up waiting to take the hordes of people spilling from the theatres to the nearest bar or club. Men dressed in suits and lavish smoking jackets, woman dressed to the nines in cocktail dresses and fur coats. The smell of cigar smoke filled the air alone with the various perfumes, and the foul undercurrent that could only be described as the city. Laugher and chatter filled the air as cars whizzed by, and drunk men called out. Occasionally a door would open, and a blast of jazz, carried by a rush of warm air would drown out the uglier sounds of the night.

He knew the alcohol would be flowing, men and woman eager to buy for all that surrounded them, but Haymitch forced himself to keep walking, until he reached a quieter part of town. He reached the turning he was looking for and glanced behind him. No one was looking his way, and if they were it wasn't anyone who would know who he was. His critical gaze swept the street again, and then he ducked into the small alleyway. It was dark here, the light from the street enough that he could see his way, but shadowy enough that no one would know who he was, if they happened to stumble down here.

Here he waited, leaning against the damp brick wall. He pulled out his flask, and carefully unscrewed the lid. He took a swig, feeling the fire of the alcohol as it burnt its way down his throat. It warmed him slightly, and he before he could think better of it he took another swig.

It wasn't long until he heard her. No matter how much noise there was surrounding him, he could always hear her. The familiar tapping of her heels along the pavement, the swish of her coat as it swirled around her ankles, the slight pause before her figure appeared.

He knew her well, so well it made him sick to think about it. He knew the sound of her feet, the reasons behind her pause. He knew the shape of her curves beneath the coat she wore, its fur collar highlighting her slender neck. He knew the smell of her perfume as she neared him. He waited, not moving from his position on the wall until she was close enough to hear him.

"Princess" he greeted gruffly.

"Haymitch" she replied, the lilt of her accent reminding him that she was not the girl he once knew. His eyes swept over her, but in the dim light he could only make out her outline.

"Still wearing those ridiculous heels, I see." He commented, a sarcastic smirk pulling at his lips.

"Still haven't learnt to use a razor I see" she replied, unfazed by his taunt. She daintily stepped over a pile of rubbish that lay in her path and leaned against the wall next to him.

It always surprised him that despite her fancy accent, elegant clothes, and prim attitude that she never let him get the better of her. No matter what he said, she always had retort waiting that would put him firmly back in his place.

"I thought you didn't want to see me again." he commented, turning to face her. A beam of light caught her face, and he saw her startling blue eyes glare at his flask. With a huff, she then rolled her eyes, and fished a cigarette and lighter out of her purse. Haymitch resisted the urge to chuckle. He had his addictions, but so did she.

She lit the cigarette and for a moment the flame lit up the entirety of her face, throwing into contrast what he couldn't see in the dim light of before. Now he understood why she had refused to meet him in a crowded bar, instead of this forgotten alley. He raised his hand and trailed his fingers gently down the bruise on the side of her cheek. She flinched but didn't step back.

"Did he do that to you?" Haymitch asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

"It doesn't matter" she replied, taking another pull from her cigarette. She looked up at him, her blue eyes catching the small amount of light. "I need a favour."

Of course, she did. There was no other reason that she would have contacted him. It wasn't like before, when they would get together for the sake of each other's company. She had become one of them, the people who only remembered people like him existed when they needed something from them. Haymitch turned away from her, scratching his head as he did so.

"I'm running out of favours to give Princess." He said, still facing away from her.

"I'll do anything" She replied immediately

"I thought that might be your answer." Haymitch answered "that's how you people work. Tell me where the bruise comes from Effie."

"You know I can't do that." She answered softly, ignoring the bite in his words

"Why not?"

"Damnit Haymitch, you know why not" she said, her foot stamping on the ground. It was rare that Effie showed her temper, she was known as the sweet little thing who couldn't say boo to a goose, but somehow Haymitch always brought the worst out of her. "It's all fine for you to say leave him Effie. Why do you stay with him Effie? You're a stupid little girl Effie. But you know as well as I do that I'd never be able to escape him. Seneca has friends in high places. Dangerous friends. This bruise is minor compared to the damage they could inflict if they really wanted to."

"He's one man Effie. He can't control everything"

"He's not just one man." She said, "You don't know half of it." He glanced over at her. Her posture was tense, and she kept glancing over her shoulder.

"So why did you come here then?" he asked, relenting.

"I told you, I need a favour." She leaned against the wall again. "The paper isn't doing well. We're about to go under, and if we do we lose everything."

"And exactly why is this my problem sweetheart?" he asked sarcastically. "Do you want me to fall down the steps of parliament, so you can write about that? Sorry sweetheart, been there done that got the grazed shins."

"Because you know everything that happens in this city, before it even happens. You know who the people are to watch. You should have been the one running the newspaper Haymitch." She exclaimed, her hand coming up to grip his arm. He eyed her long red finger nails, remembering what they used to look like, before he shook her off.

"Can't his friends in high places give you something to sell?" He asked, "why would I, a boy from the slums, have anything as scandalous as they have?"

Effie laughed in response. A bitter laugh, one with no humour, no joy, just contempt and sarcasm. It didn't seem right coming from her. He knew her real laugh, the deep belly laugh that seemed to burst from her petite body with no warning. He knew her fake laugh, the one she used around her husband and co-workers. The light twinkle that was no more real than that of a puppet. But this one, the hard, gruff laugh was foreign to her, and it made him feel uncomfortable.

"Oh Haymitch" she said in a condescending tone "when will you realize that all this is to keep those friends out of the papers? Why do you think they befriended him in the first place? He doesn't have the money that they do, the titles. Seneca came from nothing. I came from nothing, and we can just as quickly go back there."

"You could never go back to what you came from." He said, taking a final swig from his flask, and screwing the cap on. "You're too well known. They would never let Effie Trinket, darling of the new world, go back to scrubbing clothes until her hands were raw."

"Don't be naïve." She snapped "you know this city better than anyone I know, I would be forgotten in less than six months. Please Haymitch, I am asking for your help." She looked up at him, her coat wrapped tightly around her, her eyes looking beseechingly up at him. She wasn't just asking, he realized, she was begging.

"Tell me Effie, does Seneca know you're here?" He asked, battling to keep his temper in check "Does he know that you're asking me, the man you promised him you'd never see again, to save his precious paper because his so-called friends won't do it? Is that why he hit you? To remind the two of us that he owns you?"

"He gets angry Haymitch." She sighed "He's under a lot of stress at the moment, it'll get better when we're not facing ruin."

"According to me, Princess, you already are in ruins. The Effie that I used to know would never put up with this."

"You don't understand- "

"Don't I?" Haymitch sneered, grabbing her arm and twisting her towards the light so he could see the bruise more clearly. "I bet he gets angry over the stupidest of things, things that are not your fault or are easy to fix. I bet he goes quiet, and I bet you know what's coming. Knowing you, you try and fight back, and when its all over you take the blame. I bet that he buys you something pretty afterwards, and swears it'll never happen again. But it does happen again doesn't it? Only this time it was worse than usual, because usually he's careful not to mess up your face."

Effie stiffened, and refused to meet his gaze, biting her lip to keep her mask in place. Haymitch knew he was right, he had seen it too many times. Except where he grew up, people weren't careful with the face. He let go of her and turned away.

"I'm sorry I came." She said eventually "I thought you were able to help me, but I see now that I was wrong. Goodbye Haymitch."

Haymitch turned back towards her, as she started to walk away.

"Princess wait." He said, all the fight having gone out of his voice. She paused and glanced back, trying her best to hide the hope that was threatening to take over her expression.

"I don't have anything for you now." He said gruffly "but give me a few days alright?"

A spark came into her eyes, that that he hadn't seen for a very long time, and she gave him a soft smile.

"Thank you Haymitch" she said, and then she was gone, leaving him in a freezing cold alley, wondering what the hell he had just signed up for.


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