It's been more than five hours since the last explosion and it was getting hard to tell which was more nerve-wrecking; the eerie silence that had followed or the comings and goings of the security patrol. Some of them had their torches trained on the ceiling as if to draw everyone's attention to the cracks on it while others kept on blinding anyone who was stupid enough to look up when they were coming, all in the name of making sure everyone in the shelter was safe and sound.
As she saw that the man in yet another pair of nondescript boots nearing her allocated bunk bed was of the latter kind, diligently trailing his light from person to person, Effie drew her knees closer to her chest and started picking on a thread that somehow freed itself from where her thick woollen sock had been sewn together over the toes with a tired sigh.
Feeling that trying to pull it further out would ruin the seam itself, she took the offending thread between her thumb and forefinger and started rolling it into a small ball so it wouldn't get caught in anything.
She had almost succeeded in her task when the pool of light fell on her mattress.
For a moment it lingered over her hand, and she curled her fingers defensively right away. On most of them her nail polish had been so badly chipped it made her cringe every time she looked at them, and yet she couldn't find it in herself to remove it and live the rest of her life with unpainted nails. Not yet.
She had to raise her hand soon enough though, when the light hit her face next.
"I'm fine, thank you, no need to worry," she protested as she tried to shield her eyes.
"I'm glad to hear that, princess," said the owner of the blinding light as he switched it off, leaving her with a handful of shapes and colours dancing in front of her eyes as he bent over slightly so that he could look at her face properly.
"Haymitch," she breathed as she threw herself into his arms.
He emitted something between a chuckle and an oomph when their bodies collided, but then he put a knee on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. With a content sigh she raised her chin a little higher so that she could rest it on top of his shoulder, brushed his hair back to keep it out of her nose and mouth, and closed her eyes.
He smelled different (he smelled like that awful off-white thing people in Thirteen had the cheek to call soap), he held her too tight for comfort and the hand he ran just above the neckline of her shirt at the back was ice cold, but she knew she wouldn't be the one pulling away.
At least the monstrosity that had taken over the lower part of his face felt surprisingly softer than his trademark scruff when he brushed it against her skin.
"So," he cleared his throat when he finally let go and guided themselves to sit on the bed instead, "are you really all right?"
"Of course." She smiled at him.
"Good. That's good," he murmured as they saw that the man appearing from just behind the corner of the isle of bunk beds was really on patrol. He walked slowly past them, barely minding anyone or anything but the ceiling, and Effie knew better than to follow his gaze. She studied Haymitch's face instead, who on the other hand kept his eyes on the guard.
"Did you come all the way down here to ask me that?" she whispered when the man got out of earshot, feeling a tinge of warmth crawling up her neck.
"Yes. And no," he said then rubbed the side of his nose. "Listen, Effie, you have to know that we have never wanted you to get caught up in all this," he whispered, looking into her eyes.
That came out of nowhere. And since hearing him speak like that without so much as a drop of alcohol in his system felt so strange that all Effie could blurt out in return was a baffled "We?".
"Plutarch," he answered before he swallowed hard. "And especially Cinna."
She had always found Haymitch being able to get on with a stylist to be some sort of a miracle, but she would never have thought a revolution of all things to be the base their fast friendship had been built on. "You know, I still find it difficult to believe he had been part of all this," she sighed.
"Don't let his manners fool you," he chuckled. "Cinna'd been the one to introduce us in the first place, when Plutarch had taken over from Crane. He'd been neck-deep into this stuff long before me. He…" Haymitch let his voice trail off, then when it became evident that he would never finish what he was about to say, he just shook his head and bit down on his lower lip.
They have been lying to her for almost a whole year, but now that Cinna was dead and Haymitch was more miserable than she had ever seen him, Effie could feel more and more of her anger ebbing away.
She watched him for a little longer, then moved closer and reached for his hand. "I'm sure he'd be delighted to know that his work had been saved and is being put to good use," she whispered, squeezing it.
At first she thought he wouldn't reply at all. Then she started to fear he would say something awfully sarcastic, but in the end he entwined their fingers and looked back at her. "Yeah, probably," he murmured and gave her a wry smile.
The nearest speaker was only meters away, but like most people around them, they nearly jumped with fright when it came alive.
For a few agonizingly long moments all they could hear was a static noise, then President Coin's voice came through, sounding emotionless as ever: "Attention, please," she started, and Effie couldn't help holding on to Haymitch's hand a little tighter.
"We have reason to believe that we are no longer under attack," the president went on then paused for a second as if someone had told her to do so in order to give the people of Thirteen time to exhale and share a moment of relief with those around them.
Haymitch was listening to the announcement too intently to notice her looking at him, but when Effie leaned a closer to him, he mirrored her movement so that their shoulders were soon touching.
"Tonight we may all rest," Coin spoke again. "Tomorrow we start rebuilding. Thank you."
After a short period of near-perfect silence the bunker seemed to come alive with chatter as the good news finally sank in.
"Can you stay a little longer?" Effie looked up at Haymitch with a grin she couldn't contain.
"I can stay as long as we like." He shook his head. "You've heard the lady; tonight we may all rest." He put an arm around her shoulder.
"Good," she whispered, leaning on to him.
The bed was just big enough for both of them, so they had to make all sorts of precautions to ensure that neither of them would roll off it. Haymitch put his arm around Effie from behind to keep her close, she pinned his other arm to the mattress securely by resting her neck and head on it, and they pulled the blanket they shared so tightly around themselves that they could hardly move.
She still found it hard to fall asleep, and could sense every time a guard walked by or Haymitch moved so much as a finger, even when she had finally been able to drift off.
She also knew someone was coming before they have reached their bed and put a hand on Haymitch's shoulder.
"What?" He came around with a grunt and a jerk of his knee that fortunately lost its momentum due to the proximity of the back of hers.
"You are needed in the meeting room," said Boggs, taking a step back as Haymitch began to fight himself into a sitting position. "Both of you."
"For what?" inquired Effie in a small voice, feeling more than a little uneasy about being summoned like that.
"They want to take the Mockingjay to the surface and shoot a propo for the Capitol to see that Thirteen is alive and well," Boggs answered. "Be there in ten minutes," he finished curtly, then walked away before any of them had the chance to ask any further questions.
"Ten minutes," mumbled Effie, running a hand over the side of her face that had been resting on Haymitch's arm all night, hoping against all hope that the imprints his knit sweater leave on her skin weren't too bad. "That's… that's just rude."
"Let's give ourselves twenty then," he said with a yawn, then moved his head around, cracking his neck and spine. "Believe me, had it been urgent, the man would have told us to be there right away," he added with a short laugh as he caught the look he gave him. "They are probably sitting around a table, nursing their coffee cups and haggling over how her hair should be braided or something like that."
"All the more reason for me to be there then," she sniffed as she checked if all her hair was still under the scarf wrapped around her head before she untangled herself from the blanket.
"Just don't get your hopes up about it." Haymitch rolled his eyes and pulled his legs out of her way so that she could sit on the side of the bed and put on her shoes.
"About what?" she asked with a frown.
"Coffee here is nothing like the stuff you had been used to in the Capitol," he yawned again.
"Who said anything about coffee?" She looked back at him over her shoulder.
He scratched his face with the grin he knew could make her blood boil within seconds.
"I am the head of Katniss's prep team." Effie managed to keep her voice even despite his insolence. "In fact I am her prep team," she went on. "It's only natural that I should be there when they decide how she should be presented." She crossed her legs and turned away from him to tie her shoelaces. "But if they happen to offer me coffee… well, it would be ill-mannered of me to refuse."
"All right," sighed Haymitch, as he too started getting out of bed. But before she had time to even consider falling for that, he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly. "Just know that it will most probably taste like dirt," he warned her so seriously that it made her groan.
But – because being at the middle of a war was no excuse to let him have the final word in such matters – a moment later she stood up, smoothed her shirt so that it would look as presentable as possible, then looked down at him with her sweetest smile.
"And if we don't hurry up, it will get cold too, so please, put on your shoes and let's get going," she said in a sing-song voice, because for a fleeting but wonderful moment she felt like there was still some part of their lives that was still the same.
Happy New Year and thanks for reading! :)
I have rewatched the Mockingjay movies during the holiday and realised that I needed to write something with these two in their hideous jumpsuits, so here it is.