The rescue mission is set in stone but comes far too late for him. She's dead. He knows she's dead. Everyone the Capitol takes in captivity dies. No survivors - that's what they want.
So far everything's going according to plan. He hopes with his whole heart that he will see her again but it goes away when he remembers that she's dead. Of course they won't let her live. He wants a bottle to smooth his sore throat and troubled mind but he can't even get that - damn Coin and her stupid rules. Pain strikes his palm and he realizes that he has broken a glass in his hand. At least the liquor helped him control his anger.
"They're inside," Beetee says, giving him a sad look and Haymitch looks away. He doesn't need their pity. It's pretty clear that her name's nightly appearances in his screams couldn't possibly have escaped his roommate but he doesn't need any sympathy.
Pull it together, he tells himself when the pictures of her flash before his eyes again.
Chains hanging from the roof, handcuffs strapped tight around her slim wrist, blood everywhere...
Peacekeepers beating her with batons and cutting her with sharp knives.
And all that they did to the woman he truly ever loved. Dead. It's what they want.
Even thinking about it sends shudders down his spine. If only he'd known a way back then, a way that would have saved her and didn't end with her being captured and tortured by her own home, saved her from all the pain...
She has been through enough for one lifetime.
He knows that when he walks into the hospital wing and sees her through the glass.
He doesn't recognize her.
The only thing left of the happy and confident woman she used to be is the smell of her sweet perfume.
"You stayed alive, sweetheart." He says with a husky voice and makes a brief grin that hurts because he doesn't mean it.
She stares blindly at him and then bursts out in tears. Haymitch half runs toward her and catches her in a gentle embrace. Nothing in the world matters anymore, it's all about her, safe and sound back here in 13. Without a thought he gently places his hands on her hips, slowly caressing every bruise and cut she got, carefully frames her face with his hands and kisses her gentler than he thinks he ever has in his life. He can slowly feel his anger and agony going away the same way it does with the liquor. And it's only Effie alone who can have that effect on him.