AN: I read a couple Hayffie fics awas became obsessed. This piece has been skipping around my head then languishing on my computer for a while, so I figured, what the hell? Hope you enjoy :) And don't forget to review (it only takes a minute and really makes my day.)

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the voices in my head ;)

Effie closed the door to her train compartment and pulled her pink wig off with a tired sigh. The rebellion was over, the tyrants vanquished and all was right with the new world. So why did she feel as if she was still at war? Or worse, still a prisoner? She had returned to the Capitol and, after months of therapy, had been encouraged to join Plutarch's Communication Ministry. Doctors and well meaning friends had all assured her that productive work was just what she needed to get over everything she had endured during her captivity.

Effie had to laugh at that. Communication, yeah right. Propaganda by any other name still stunk to high heaven. It was almost as if the rebellion had never happened in some ways. Now, instead of a "Victory Tour", exploiting the victors and promoting the games; Effie had the privilege of being one of many speakers on the "Freedom Tour." According to Plutrach, the tour was designed to highlight the rebuilding efforts as well as the benevolence of the new government toward former Capitol citizens. It wasn't evil, yet she still felt like a puppet.

As Effie stepped into the shower and started scrubbing the makeup off her face, her mind travelled along its usual path at the end of a long day. Katniss Everrdeen, Peeta Mellark... him. To the world they were saviors who had sacrificed much for the country. To her they were so much more... yet she was still unable to label what any of them meant to her. When she had been... detained, Snow's minions had tried to turn her against them with all kinds of lies and... other things. Yet, strangely enough her memories of him had had the opposite effect. Those memories had been the only thing that kept her sane in the middle of the night when the real interrogation, and the screams, had started.

The train was scheduled to stop in District 11 tomorrow. District 12 was not on the tour because, according to the official press releases, "due to the scope of devastation and loss of life suffered by District 12, our brethren need more time to heal." Effie sighed again. Lies and propaganda. It was a well known fact, at least to the members of the Communication Ministry, that the 'freedom fighters' in District 12 were too broken to make good television personalities. The last time she had spoken with Hazelle, Katniss was still a silent recluse. Peeta was still having episodes and when it came to him... well apparently the more things changed, the more they stayed the same in District 12.

With the 'mask', as he called it, off, Effie sat at the small dresser and forced herself to look in the mirror. She had become very adept at avoiding mirrors, quite a feat in the former Capitol where every two steps provided you with an opportunity to admire the work of art that was your body. However, at the end of the day, when she was away from the cameras and alone with her guilt and her ghosts, it was the last thing she did before bed.

The first thing she noticed about the woman in the mirror were the haunted eyes, blue as the skies but filled with sorrow and surrounded by circles so dark they looked like bruises. She picked up a brush with a hand that shook only slightly, and ruthlessly pulled it through ash blonde locks, relentlessly subduing every last curl. If not for those dark circles, no one would think she wasn't the same old Effie. They were the main reason Plutarch insisted that she continue to wear her makeup whenever she made public appearances. It wouldn't do for the 'Freedom Tour' to have too many reminders of the ugliness of war, not in Plutarch's beautiful new world anyway. Effie turned away from the mirror and came to a decision. She was done hiding. Starting tomorrow she was taking back her life.

Haymitch rolled over with a groan, automatically reached for his bottle and brought it to his lips. He growled angrily when he realized it was empty. Dammit! The nightmares must have been especially vivid last night if he didn't even leave a drop. He stumbled out of bed and cursed again when he went to the bathroom and found his emergency stash gone. His search of the kitchen yielded... nothing but more empty bottles. The living room... the same. Then it hit him. Thursday. It was goddamn Thursday! Otherwise known as Thirsty Thursday because that was his restocking day.

He collapsed on the couch with another groan. Usually he would have at least one bottle left to hold him until he could get to the Hob but, lately, the intensity of his nightmares had increased. He found himself drinking more just to get through the nights. Not that the liquor stopped the nightmares, but at least he didn't remember them in the morning. Haymitch knew he could have leaned on Peeta and Katniss for support, but he chose not to. They had enough on their respective plates without adding a heaping helping of his bullshit too. With a sigh he staggered to his feet and headed back to the bathroom. Might as well take a shower to pass the time before he headed over to the new Hob.

Effie watched the train leave the station with mixed emotions. There was a great deal of fear. She hadn't told anyone she was coming. She had no idea where she would be staying and she only had enough clothes for a week at most. But more than fear, there was an overwhelming sense of relief. There would be no more smiling for the crowds, parroting platitudes that Plutarch kindly wrote for her... and no more masks. With a slight smile she stepped off the platform and started pulling her one piece of luggage behind her.

About half an hour later Effie found herself in the Victor's Village. She could tell which house was his by the state of disrepair. The garden, if it could even be called that, was unkempt and wild; not unlike its' owner. The fence was sagging and broken and Effie tripped over broken cobblestones as she walked down the path. The stench wafting from behind the open door almost knocked her out. She paused, rethinking her decision. Was this really what she wanted? On a good day she and Haymitch had fought like cats and dogs. He was a filthy, unrepentant, surly drunk... who for some reason had been her lifeline during her captivity. Effie squared her shoulders and stepped inside.

The first thing she did, after gagging on the stench and tripping again, was to find the kitchen and wipe all the makeup off her face. She pulled off her wig, stuffed it into her bag and pulled out her planner. Then she pulled her hair into an unruly bun, pushed some debris off a chair and took a seat.

"Now, where do I begin?"

It was after dark when Haymitch staggered up to his house, holding his remaining bottles securely. He had been the first one at the Hob and had purchased everything his liquor contact had to offer. Unfortunately, that was only six bottles. As much as he hated anything to do with the former Capitol, Haymitch was beginning to think he would have to start dealing with the city since he was drinking more than he could buy at home.

After he had secured his supply for the week, Haymitch had spent the rest of the day in the field with his geese. He had already consumed two of his precious six bottles so he would have to be more careful...maybe ration himself.

The moment Haymitch stepped into the hall, he realized that something was amiss. Not that he often noticed the odors of his home, but he was pretty sure it didn't usually smell of pine. He paused, carefully placed his wine on the couch and looked around.

"Dammit!"

The kid had done it again! As soon as he could see straight he was going to go over there and give Peeta a piece of his mind. He didn't know how the kid was able to get over his own issues when he spent 99% of his time looking after Haymitch and Katniss. No matter how many times he told the kid to leave his house the way it was, he would inevitably come home to a clean home. He stumbled up the stairs, promising to deal with Peeta in the morning. Haymitch barely managed to kick off his boots before tumbling into bed... and falling on a slight, warm body.