TITLE: Alone In The Dark
SUMMARY: Spoilers for Mockingjay. Haymitch unexpectedly finds Effie while taking down one of the Capitol's prisons. Haymitch/Effie
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm a bit fuzzy on Mockingjay. I read it only once and it's been a while. Frankly it's not my favorite, so I didn't really feel like re-reading even the relevant passages to make sure this story was canon compliant. Please let me know if I contradict the text in whatever way. This is not the same universe as my story Sober and Unkissed, just to be clear.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. No profit. Yada yada yada.
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He saw her before she saw him.
Two blue eyes like lake water on a sunny day, stark in the darkness of her cell.
He saw her, but he didn't recognize her.
She lifted her head off the metal slab – pillowless, blanketless, cold and hard – that served as her cot; a curtain of tarnished, unkempt golden hair falling to frame her face. She blinked against the light of the opening door before cowering in the corner.
Government facilities across the Capitol were succumbing one by one to the rebellion's forces as they moved over the city like a swarm of all-devouring ants. This was a holding facility for political prisoners – Capitol citizens only. The sensitive task of delivering it had fallen to Haymitch, his years as a mentor and his role in the rebellion putting him in the best position to know friend from foe. The first few blocks had held members of Plutarch Heavensbee's extended family, his staff, and a few gamemakers, who would likely be put on trial. This block had appeared empty; the soldiers with Haymitch paused when they saw her, and with reason: there had not been a beautiful woman behind every door.
She gasped in relief when she saw him, those stunning azure eyes zooming in on him as he stepped into view as if he were the rising sun after an endless night. That small utterance was all he needed to identify Effie Trinket. He heard a hint of her familiar voice in the intake of breath, and suddenly her delicate features were known to him, as if they were now coming into focus. It was hard for him to believe that it was her – the simple, straight blonde hair; the pink-tinged pale skin; the thin coral-colored lips; the off-white hospital gown; and most of all, the frantic deer-eyes.
"Haymitch," she whispered, pulling herself up a little further.
After her initial reaction of reprieve at seeing him, Effie frowned in confusion, and her gaze shot around in building terror and panic, taking in the soldiers with him.
Once Haymitch recovered from his surprise at finding her here - at seeing her like this - it took him another minute to realize that she didn't trust him. It made him angry: of course she would assume that he was out to get her. That he would hurt her.
But before he could speak to alleviate her fears, two soldiers in his squad moved forward, one grabbing Effie's arm roughly and yanking her to her feet. "Capitol bitch," he muttered under his breath. He might have known who she was. But he probably didn't.
"Let her go!" Haymitch growled, pushing his way into the cell and shoving the two men aside.
Effie twitched at the violence, then closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
He approached her gingerly, placing his hands lightly on her arms just below the edges of her sleeves. He was pleased that she didn't start at his touch, but her skin was alarmingly cold, and she seemed to be beyond shivering.
"Someone get me a blanket. Now!" he ordered brusquely. The men scrambled, vacating the cell.
"Are you taking me out of here?" she asked him, opening her eyes to search his.
Without her shoes and her hairpieces and her frilly dresses she was a little thing, short and slight. The prominence of her clavicle told him that she had lost quite a few pounds, underfed and malnourished during her captivity. They had had her for months, probably since the Quarter Quell, or slightly after. It wouldn't have taken them too long to figure out that she didn't know anything. If they had put her to the question – they had, he knew they had, it was written on her face – then they had finished with her weeks ago. The bruises and cuts were healed. But it was likely with Effie - a Capitol citizen, a woman, the very definition of civilian, and probably no stranger to pain with the shoes she wore - that they had used fear tactics. They had threatened her family. Her life. They had waterboarded her. They had left her alone in the dark. They had told her nothing and gave her no end in sight.
She faltered weakly, but instead of letting her sit back down he pressed her against his chest, holding her up with his arm. "Yes, Effie," he declared firmly, whispering into her ear. "I'm taking you out of here. Everything's going to be all right," he said, and he never said that to anyone. "I'm watching out for you now."
He had made sure she didn't know anything. It had been as much for her own good as for the good of the rebellion. But he had failed her. It was his fault she was here. He should have known better. Seeing her like this, feeling her as a feather in his embrace, he knew it would weigh forever on his conscience.
The cell could have been worse, he noted, glancing around. A toilet, with paper. Even a sink. A clean prison, like the stylish sacrifice of the Hunger Games – it was the way of the Capitol. But the cell was dark and cold and solitary and metal, and Effie was none of those things.
His second in command handed him a cotton blanket, and Haymitch sent him to oversee the "liberation" of the rest of the wing. He threw the blanket over her shoulders and then pulled it in tightly, almost swaddling her.
"They-" she began.
He stopped her. "I know."
"Katniss and Peeta?"
"They're alive." There was so much more to tell her. Cinna and Portia were dead. District 12 had been razed to the ground. The Capitol was being invaded. But that could all wait.
She clutched at his shirt through the blanket. "What about my family?"
Haymitch put his arm around her again. "I don't know." He hadn't come here looking for Effie Trinket. He had hoped she was with her family all this time, staying out of it somehow. Haymitch realized now how naïve that had been, and Haymitch was rarely naïve. There was nothing he could have done for her, whether he had believed she needed rescue or not. But again he felt that guilt creeping up on him. When had he become responsible for Effie Trinket? And yet…
She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder.
"You should wait here," he suggested. He had to a job to do. She barely had the strength to stand. Or was unmotivated to summon it. Either way, he couldn't just stand here with her until it was time to go back to District 13.
As much as he wanted to.
"No!" Effie cried, hysterical. She dashed away from him and out into the hallway, where a soldier caught her.
Haymitch followed, and wrenched the other man's arm off of her. He put his hand on Effie's cheek and lifted her eyes up to his. "I'm sorry. You don't have to go back in there ever again." He turned back to the soldier. "Get the paramedics. I want her fed immediately, and then loaded onto the next hovercraft back to 13. Got it?"
The young man looked down at an electronic tablet in his hands. "Sir, according to this she is Effie Trinket: a government employee, and an accessory to the Hunger Games. She needs to be arrested and tried with the rest of them."
Effie's eyes widened.
"There's a reason you call me 'Sir'. Now do what I say," Haymitch responded wearily.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but I received these orders at headquarters."
Haymitch shook his head. District 13 was becoming a necessary evil more and more every day. He sent the disobedient soldier off to identify the rest of the liberated prisoners and then called up a more dependable member of the squad: "Please get Miss Trinket here something to eat, then take her to the medics. Our medics, do you understand? Not one of the local hospitals. Make sure she's on the next hovercraft back to 13 on my orders. She's a guest, not a prisoner. See what you can do about locating her family. You can report back at the end of the day." He turned to Effie. "They can't come with us." She nodded. "You're going to the rebel headquarters. I'll find you when I return. If they ask you questions, tell them your name, and tell them that you're waiting for me. Nothing else. Do you understand?" She nodded again. "What?" he asked, as he noticed her staring.
But then she began to cry. "Thank you. Thank you."
Haymitch kissed her on the forehead awkwardly. Her tears made him as uncomfortable as the sentiment she expressed, which he didn't deserve. He wiped her cheeks with the corner of the blanket, shocked at himself.
"You need to shave," she remarked, her back to him as the soldier began guiding her down the hallway.
He smiled. There was some Effie left in her yet.