So... y'all twisted my arm and I wrote a sequel to Smoke and Mirrors. I suppose that you could read this without reading that first, but I imagine you'll struggle (but basically, Haymitch and Effie were in an undefined but significant relationship and Effie was aware that the revolution was happening)... just read it, kay?
TRIGGER WARNING: DISCUSSION OF TORTURE! (There will likely be discussion of sexual violence as well, but it is NOT discussed in this chapter). Read this at your own discretion.
Many thanks to my dear beta, Em :)
As usual, I own nothing (but Elizabeth Banks's IMDB says she's in Mockingjay part 1! Excitement!)
Haymitch paced as he waited for the crew of Rebels, led by Gale Hawthorne to return from their insane suicide mission rescuing Peeta and Annie from the Capitol. Haymitch had known it was risky. He had attempted to argue potential waste of life as a factor for why they shouldn't go ahead with this kamikaze mission, but the words had caught in his throat… Haymitch could admit it; he was jealous. Katniss and Finnick were about to get their one true loves back and he didn't know where the hell Effie was.
When Plutarch had ordered that the hovercraft to leave the rooftop rendezvous point the night that Katniss had destroyed the Quarter Quell Arena, it had taken three of his team to restrain Haymitch from diving out of the craft and going to find Effie.
Effie's face had haunted him all throughout his alcoholic withdrawal. She could be dead. Her tongue had more than likely been cut out. If she'd been caught when she was attempting to escape to the roof, she'd be shown no mercy. Euphemia Trinket would have been branded an enemy of the Capitol and if the destruction of District Twelve was any measure of how President Snow dealt with treachery, Effie was certainly doomed.
Haymitch hadn't breathed a word about Effie to anybody. He barely had a hold on the floods of rage he used to numb with alcohol and he knew that one flippant comment from Alma Coin would send his self-control flying out of the window and leave him in a pair of handcuffs. Instead, his rage boiled under his skin, barely contained and ready to explode at any second. He just needed the right provocation.
The flashing lights of the transport they'd sent out were a relief. Gale stepped out of the ship, the picture of a Rebel soldier and Haymitch forced himself to stand still and listen to his briefing.
"It was almost too easy," Gale sighed, gesturing for Haymitch to come with him onto the ship. "They were all right there. Only problem we had was the one that we didn't anticipate."
"What the hell happened?" Haymitch demanded, ducking his head as they made their way through the hovercraft.
Screams started to rip through the air. Haymitch frowned. Annie's screams were to be expected. But it wasn't Annie screaming. It was Johanna; bellowing at the top of her lungs. Haymitch barely caught a word of it as he followed Gale down the narrow path to the wing that held passengers. It was eerily similar to the transport that had taken Haymitch to the Games, but he pushed away that memory as he focussed on Gale's report.
"We had just managed to acquire the targets and were moving back out to the ship when Johanna flipped. Kept screaming that we couldn't leave her behind. She latched onto the bars of cell door and we couldn't peel her off the damn thing. Annie saw it and started wailing. They were both going ballistic so we had to throw the plan out the window." Gale stepped to the side, giving Haymitch an undisturbed vision of what had caused the escape plan to be so hugely altered that Gale was bothering to report it.
The Rebels had rolled a large metal wheel onto the hovercraft.
Haymitch recoiled. Emaciated to the point of starvation, completely naked, skin black and blue from constant beatings, thighbone broken and exposed through pale skin, was a woman.
"I don't know who it is, but Johanna, Annie and Peeta seemed horrified at the idea of leaving her behind and they were making so much noise that I was sure they'd bring every Peacekeeper in the Capitol down to the prison wing, so I had to improvise."
Haymitch stepped closer to the brutalised woman. Her head had been shaved to a bare dusting of blonde fuzz, but he'd recognise those freckles anywhere.
"Effie," he murmured, his hand brushing her face in an attempt to rouse her from her from the stupor she was in, staring at the wall, the occasional whimper leaving her mouth. He looked up at the leather restraints binding Effie to the wheel.
"We figured the quickest way to get out of there was to drag the whole thing along. We couldn't untie those knots," Gale commented.
Haymitch pulled out the knife that hadn't left his side since the second he'd left the Capitol and stripped off his overcoat. "Get a medic," he ordered, not even bothering to turn and look Gale in the eye. "She's going to need surgery."
Haymitch barely registered the sound of Gale's boots crunching against the ground as he walked away. "Sweetheart, you with me?" Haymitch crooned, slowly cutting away the bonds on Effie's ankles. He supressed a wave of hatred for Snow when he saw the puddle of blood on the floor, steadily leaking from her open wound. She began to stir as he moved to her wrists. He was sure to support her slight weight as she collapsed against him, her injured leg unable to take any weight. "You gave us a scare, Princess," he commented evenly, trying not to startle her further.
"Where am I?" Effie whimpered, eyes wide with fear.
"You're in District Thirteen. You're safe, Effie," Haymitch soothed her as he draped his coat around her in a vain attempt to protect her modesty. He nodded in greeting to the medic who powered into the room. In seconds, they'd pulled Effie away from him to begin a cursory examination.
Effie sat still, her eyes glazed over to the point where Haymitch was spookily reminded of the zombie stories they used to tell as kids, late at night down on the Seam. It wasn't until they lay her back onto a stretcher that she reached out and latched onto Haymitch's hand, her bony fingers digging into his. "Haymitch, I didn't tell them anything!" She screeched, blue eyes bulging from her gaunt face. She hissed in pain as wet dressings were placed over her exposed thighbone, a tight bandage strapped around her gaping wound. "They never broke me, I swear," she was close to tears now, her hand painfully tight as she gripped his fingers.
Haymitch gestured for the medics to stay put. "I know they didn't, Sweetheart," he hummed, his free hand cupping her face. "You're too damn stubborn for that." He almost got a smile for that quip. "Let's get you patched up, okay?" He suggested.
He walked with Effie for as long as the medics would let him. He sighed heavily. He wanted a drink, badly. Coin was going to hate this… he needed to do some sweet-talking, fast.
Haymitch knew that throwing a knife at Alma Coin was probably not the way to get her onside. But the more she insisted that Thirteen's hospitals couldn't possibly accommodate an extra patient, despite the fact that the head doctor insisted that they were more than capable of treating Effie and the open fracture would be an excellent teaching opportunity for young medical students, the more tempting the thought became. It didn't actually have to hit her… whizzing past her ear and lodging into the bland, grey wall would be just as effective.
"Absolutely not. She's a Capitol citizen," Coin declared resolutely.
"So is Plutarch," Haymitch refuted. "And Fulvia," he added.
"Surely I don't need to point out that they were actively working to bring about the revolution," Coin countered crisply. "Not Reaping children for their deaths."
Haymitch cringed. Coin had no idea what a low blow that was. "Effie was involved in the Revolution," he snapped, finally relinquishing hold on his trump card. "I told her everything."
Coin gaped at him. "You mean to tell me you told the harlot keeping your bed warm highly confidential information as pillow talk?" She spat.
Haymitch shrugged, refusing to take the bait. "She came and visited Twelve. Was going to really stick it to the Capitol and refuse to do the Quarter Quell Reaping. I couldn't let her do that, so I told her everything. She was the one who kept eyes off me in the Capitol so that my secret rendezvous with Plutarch could go unnoticed."
"Soldier Abernathy," Coin began, clearly ramping up to tear Haymitch a new asshole.
"You'll notice that she didn't actually spill any big secrets," Haymitch pointed out. "And all your precious Victors lost their shit at the thought of her being left behind. Effie Trinket is more valuable that you realise." He paused and let his words sink in. "If you prefer, I could go give Johanna Mason a tour of the facilities and when we're in the kitchens let it slip that you're refusing to give Effie treatment. I don't know if you got footage of the Games down here in Thirteen, but the girl knows her way around a blade and doesn't tend to react well when she's given bad news."
The Head Doctor cleared his throat. "A decision needs to be made, and quickly," he interjected. "She has an open fracture and the risk of infection is high," he straightened his shoulders as he paused, almost visibly gathering his courage. "As a physician, I don't care where she came from. She's wounded and I have the capacity to heal her. To order me otherwise would be criminal," he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm ordering her surgery, now."
Coin heaved a frustrated sigh. She knew she'd lost the battle. "Treat her, then. But she gets no special treatment. No extra food, the bare minimum of medications. You fix her wound as quickly as possible and that is it. Don't make her comfortable with resources that could be better spent on District Thirteen citizens."
The doctor nodded and waddled out the door before Coin could change her mind. Coin turned back to Haymitch. "Don't you ever undermine my authority again," she muttered dangerously.
"I merely encouraged you to treat a former prisoner of war with more compassion than your political rival," Haymitch responded tartly. "Can't see how that undermines anything."
"I don't need your insubordination in front of my citizens," Coin growled. "Peeta is back. Let Katniss see him so that we can get back to work taking down Snow."
Coin's fundamental lack of compassion grated on Haymitch more than he cared to admit. He turned when he was at the door. "Until Trinket has the all clear," he struggled to keep his tone neutral as he addressed Coin. "We don't tell Katniss a thing."
Coin raised an eyebrow.
"That girl has enough deaths on her conscience. She doesn't need another."
Haymitch took a leaf out of Katniss's book and ignored the schedule printed on his arm. He'd been given every single menial task that could be conceived and he was sure it had been done as petty retribution for fighting for Effie's surgery. He hated District Thirteen. He hated being bound by the routine and bland grey walls. He longed for the green meadows of home and the familiar walls of his house, where he was a recluse by choice.
He nodded to Camilla Everdeen, who was silently scrawling on a chart as she checked the various machines that were monitoring Effie. "You took your time coming down here," she commented. "Before we were allowed to give her morphling, she kept screaming your name."
"What do you mean before you were allowed to give her morphling?" Haymitch asked. He could imagine who was behind that decision, but he wondered what had sparked the change.
Camilla confirmed his suspicions. "President Coin expressly forbade us giving her anything stronger than the herbal remedies I had stored up from Katniss's hunting expeditions and there's only so much sleeping syrup you can give a person before their organs begin to shut down," she informed him. "Johanna overheard us discussing it in the main wing of the hospital and insisted that Effie be given the supply allocated to her."
That explained why Johanna was so green around the gills. Haymitch could spot an addict in withdrawal a mile away and he knew that something huge must have happened in that prison to have Johanna give up her poison.
"She's good for you," Camilla commented as she filled in a chart. "Ever since we were fourteen I knew you'd need a hell of a woman to keep you in line."
Haymitch smirked. His world was broken into two parts… Before Reaping and After Victory. In his Before Reaping life, he'd earned himself a reputation as quite the troublemaker; constantly outsmarting their long-suffering teacher, and his pranks were legendary. His mother was regularly dragged up to the school to hear about Haymitch's terrible behaviour and then Haymitch was regularly dragged home by his ear. "A lot of things have changed since then," he murmured. "But you're probably right about needing a hell of a woman." He sat down by Effie's bedside, picking up one of her bruised hands and cupping it between both of his.
"She'll tell you what she went through in that prison when she's ready," Camilla assured him gently. "But I can tell you that she fought tooth and nail against them until the last second."
A shudder wracked through Haymitch as he stared at Effie's still form. She'd always been a lithe, petite little thing, the muscles on her body toned purely for aesthetic reasons and not for strength. The idea of her fighting against the brute strength of a Peacekeeper was sickening; she wouldn't have stood a chance.
"We usually give her a slightly stronger dose of morphling as we do our tests," Camilla murmured. "She'll be waking up soon."
Haymitch could only nod, his thumb tracing absent minded circles on Effie's palm. Camilla squeezed his shoulder before replacing the chart and walking quietly out of the room. He was grateful that Camilla Everdeen had taken some kind of responsibility for Effie's care. She was the most compassionate person he'd ever met in his life and her skills as a healer had saved plenty of lives on the Seam. He hoped that Katniss had been a little bit dignified in how she'd presented Effie to her mother and that Camilla's response to Effie's care had been motivated by a desire to help protect the woman that had safely guided Katniss through two years of the Hunger Games.
Mostly, he just wanted Effie to be okay. Surely they wouldn't have bothered to beat her to within an inch of her life if they hadn't suspected that she knew something. That was his fault. He never should have told her a thing. Never should have assumed that she would be able to stop the Capitol from suspecting a thing. Snow was always a step ahead of them and Haymitch should have known that they'd been exposing themselves to Capitol surveillance. Perhaps they'd hurt her so badly purely out of spite. He'd escaped the Capitol and they'd hurt her because they couldn't get to him.
He really wanted a drink. Ripper's white liquor would make the mess of his thoughts so much easier to deal with.
His train of thought was broken when he heard a tiny whimper from Effie.
"Hey Princess," he said softly. Waking up from morphling induced sleep could leave you with a pounding headache, so he kept his voice quiet and calm as Effie reacquainted herself with the sterile grey room.
"You came to see me," she sighed, her eyes slipping shut as she tried to adjust to the bright light of the room. "I thought you never wanted to see me again."
He knew morphling had a funny little habit of making a medicated person blurt out all their hidden thoughts and emotions. He decided to hold onto that little piece of information until Effie was in a better place to explain herself. "Now why would I want that?" Haymitch asked her, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I've been bored to tears without somebody's buttons to push."
She looked as though she'd gained some weight. That was good. Her hair was starting to grow out of the buzz cut. She was staring at him, her wide blue eyes, glowing prominently from her too-thin face studied him carefully, almost memorising his features in case she found herself back in the bowels of the Capitol's torture chamber and she needed something to remember him by. "Am I safe here, Haymitch?" she whispered.
Her words pierced his heart. She'd surely been seen and not heard in the days since her rescue, confined to her sickbed in the throes of pain, without a familiar face to reassure her. They'd been so caught up with Peeta and his hijacking that the poor Capitol wench had been ignored, locked away in a shiny new prison. "They'll have to go through me before anything happens to you," Haymitch replied fiercely. He lifted her bandaged hand, pressing a kiss to her healing knuckles.
"You're wearing the bracelet," Effie's eyes were suspiciously shiny when she spotted the golden bracelet he'd passed off to Finnick and Haymitch hoped she wouldn't cry.
"We're a team, aren't we?" He responded, his lips still brushing her skin.
"The children," Effie mumbled. She attempted to sit up, groaning when she jarred her injured leg, hanging up in traction so the muscles and bones would heal straight. Haymitch stood and adjusted the bed so that she was seated.
"Haymitch, how are they?" Effie demanded. "What did they do to Peeta? And how is Katniss?"
Haymitch sighed. "Katniss is a mess," he replied. "She's in District Two now, trying to persuade their allegiance away from the Capitol."
"Is that safe?" Effie interjected.
"As safe as it can be in a time of war," Haymitch replied. "She left because she's heartbroken." He paused. He was sure that Coin had ordered everybody in contact with Effie to keep their mouths shut and tell her nothing. There was no way he was going to pander to that mentality. "Peeta decided an appropriate way to greet Katniss upon arriving here was to grab her by the throat and pin her to a wall." He smirked. "Not really good manners, was it?"
Effie managed a tiny grin at that. "You want to know what happened to him, don't you?" She asked.
Haymitch still hadn't let go of her hand. His thumb moved in circles against her palm. "I don't want to force you to do anything, Sweetheart," he replied.
"At first, they just made him watch," Effie whispered. "They didn't need to touch Annie. Empty threats were enough to keep her quiet, and really, we all knew she was there to torment Finnick." She shuddered. "Johanna and I were the playthings, though. Both of us were indispensible to the Capitol, and they treated us as such."
Haymitch forced himself to keep his face neutral, but inside, he was screaming. He'd had his suspicions about what had happened to Effie when he saw her on the wheel, and he was filled with terror when he realised that he was going to have his dark thoughts confirmed.
"The Capitol really are the masters of torture," Effie mused. "They let Enobaria basically roam free because District Two was loyal, but she had to be reminded that she was just District scum and the Capitol had supreme power over her. So they had her beat me. Then they had her choose the electrical setting for Johanna's treatments," she sniffled, but her eyes remained dry. "And they forced Peeta to watch."
The torture was perfect, then. It was no secret in District Twelve that Alba Mellark kept her sons in line with a sharp backhand. Peeta could take a beating and his spirit would remain unbroken… but forcing the tender hearted young man to watch as those he cared for took the burden of pain meant to break him? It would destroy him.
"I held him every night," Effie told Haymitch softly. "I reminded him to stay strong, and not to give in. If he gave in, then everything we went through would be for nothing."
"Effie," Haymitch sighed. He almost wished Alma Coin would hear this. Effie Trinket had a rebel's heart and deserved to be in District Thirteen, no matter where she'd grown up.
"That isn't everything," Effie mentioned. "But I'm not sure if I'm ready to tell you more."
"I'm not pushing for more, Princess," Haymitch replied. Truth be told, he wasn't sure if he could hear any more of her story without giving into his urge to break something.
"I need to see him," Effie announced.
"That isn't a good idea, Sweetheart," Haymitch told her. Images of Peeta attempting to choke Katniss were just a little too fresh, and Katniss had been in a state where she could at least attempt to fight him off.
"He won't hurt me, Haymitch. He never did before, even when they dragged him away for hours on end, doing God knows what to him." Her blue eyes were imploring, silently begging Haymitch to let her see the boy she'd been treating like family for well over a year now.
"If he even tries to hurt you, I'll tear him apart," Haymitch relented. He stood up, ready to go figure out exactly how he would pull this off. "But I'll make it happen."
Effie cleared her throat. "Before you go," she could feel a blush heating her cheeks. "Would you kiss me?"
Of all the things she could have asked for, she requested the one thing he could give her without hesitation. His hand cupped her cheek, his lips a soft caress against hers. "I won't be long," he promised.
Haymitch's hand was tight on Peeta's shoulder as he guided the boy down to the secret hospital wing Effie was being held in. It had initially been built to quarantine anybody with infectious disease, but it also worked just fine to segregate away anybody Coin didn't want seen.
"She's not supposed to be here, Peeta," Haymitch reminded him. "And you sure as hell shouldn't be seeing her, so you can't say a word."
Peeta looked at Haymitch, his haunted eyes almost disdainful. "Who would believe me, anyway?" he asked.
Haymitch opened the door to Effie's room and stepped through, certain that Peeta would follow him.
Haymitch didn't miss the look of absolute terror on Effie's face when the door swung open. She was good, though… quickly schooling her face into a pleasant expression when she saw who her visitors were. Peeta began to tremble, a whimper escaping his lips.
"Peeta," Effie murmured, her tone just soothing enough to remind Haymitch of somebody trying not to startle a skittish animal. "Darling, come here," she ordered him gently, patting the edge of her bed.
"Effie," Peeta let a sob escape, launching himself at the bed and into Effie's arms. The pained expression on Effie's face when her leg was jolted didn't escape Haymitch's notice, but he didn't say anything because instead of attacking Effie the way he'd feared, Peeta had thrown himself into her embrace, Effie's skinny arms wrapped tightly around his shuddering frame. "Shhh, it's okay," Effie whispered. "Peeta, you're alright," she reminded him. "Haymitch got us out, just like I knew he would," her eyes locked with Haymitch's as she pressed her lips against Peeta's forehead. "We're safe and Snow cannot get to us anymore."
"Do you promise?" Peeta asked.
"I do," Effie replied. "I promise we're both safe and we are going to figure out how to undo whatever it is that Snow did to you, okay?" Her fingers began to run through Peeta's hair and she hummed to him, whispering reminders of safety in his ear. Haymitch recognised the song that Effie was humming. It was old… from before even the Dark Days. Surely knowledge of a song like that, from before Panem even existed was illegal.
"They used Tracker Jacker venom on him," Haymitch told Effie. "They've twisted every single memory of the other Tribute," he was careful not to use Katniss's name. Peeta didn't need that kind of trigger. "He thinks she's a Mutt."
Effie's eyes slipped shut. "That explains why he came back so terrified," she whispered. "And why he was so angry when I told him that she loves him." She looked at Haymitch. "We have to find a way to make this okay. I have to help him."
I'd really love to hear your thoughts :) Come and play with me! Twitter/tumblr: brookemopolitan ;)