Hello!

I posted this chapter on tumblr and it had some notes so I thought that I will post it here and continue it. It is mostly going to be centered on Effie & Haymitch, with probably some Peeta & Katniss around. So this is my version on how the Rebels will get revenge on the Capitol with the 76th Hunger Games.

Rated T, because cursing and bloody blood coming soon.

Enjoy. :) Let me know what you think

PS: english is my third language!

"Happy Last Hunger Games, Panem. This is the end of your suffering, and the beginning of a new era. But all of that needs to start somewhere and the reconstruction of our country will start by destroying any signs of the reign of the Games of terror. For this reason, at the demand of the majority, the last tributes will be reaped from two pools of anybody who had anything to do with the Games. Escorts, gamemakers, stylists. No matter who you are, if you helped in the horror of the Games in any way, shape or form, your name will be in one of those pools. Prepare yourselves, districts as well as future tributes, to live the terror one last time before burying it. May the Odds be ever in your favour."

The TV screen shot black. Effie looked at it, without moving. She knew, already. She had doubted everything would just keep going like nothing happened. It was like paying a debt. For all those lives the Games had taken, they'll take lives of those who created and helped them grow. Just like she did. She stood up, walking slowly to the kitchen to prepare herself a tea.

Someone started banging on the door. Then a second one. Two voices started calling her name before a third one joined them. She ignored them a few minutes, letting the water boil before pouring it in her cup and adding some sugar. She maybe shouldn't have let them wait that long, because she heard a huge noise coming from her entrance.

She stepped out of the kitchen, leaving the cup on the kitchen counter. They had just broke in her house. Haymitch was panting heavily and Peeta was holding his shoulder.

"For God's sake, you two, what the hell have you done?"

"Are you kidding, Effie?" Peeta snapped at her. "You weren't answering the door."
"I was in the kitchen, making myself tea. I didn't hear you."

Haymitch snorted. "You are a terrible liar." He sighed. "We thought the worse after the… you know."

"I actually didn't think about killing myself yet." She smiled, softly. "No worries. Not yet, at least."

She sounded way too calm to Haymitch. He knew her like the back of his hand and he assumed she was putting on the mask for the kids. Katniss walked in after a moment, shocked. She looked at Haymitch, and he knew. That was their fault. She was going to speak up, but he shushed her from a nod of the head.

"Would you like some tea, maybe? While you fix my door?"

Haymitch grunted, before kneeling down to pick up the door and with Peeta's help, they had finished pretty easily. They didn't actually broke the door, they just took it off. Katniss was standing there, staring at Effie, livid. Effie went back into the kitchen to get her tea cup, her other arm around her stomach. She was still weak and affected by her time in prison. Physically but also mentally. They all knew that; she was the scream that woke them up all every night. She apologised all the time about it. She even tried to bake to excuse herself, particularly to Haymitch who was her closest neighbour.

After a few hours talking around the fireplace, with some cookies and tea, about nothing important, Katniss and Peeta left her house; even more worried than they were when they entered. Was she denying it or did she just not understand the message? She couldn't be so calm.

After a few minutes of silence between her and Haymitch, she stood up, taking care of the dirty little porcelain plates and cups, heading to the kitchen. He could tell, she was going to let the mask fall from a minute to another, so he got up and followed her, leaning against the doorstep. She gently put the dishes in the sink — it was very fragile and beautiful. One hand still on the sink, the other came to her face, covering her mouth, her eyes looking down.

Once she started sobbing, first quietly and more violently, she was shaking and looked like she was going to crumble or faint. Haymitch reacted slowly, he was starting to realize to. He approached her, pulling her in his arms without letting her fight his embrace and hold her as close as he possibly could. He gently kissed her head, letting her taking it out all. When her sobs were more or less controlled, he authorised himself to talk.

"You're not going into the Arena."

"You can't promise me that." She chuckled bitterly. "You don't know."

"I'll find a way. I'll talk to Paylor, to Plutarch, to whoever I can. They can't take you away from us."

"They are going to, though." she said softly, sniffing. "Take care of them. And could you feed the cat that comes here every morning? He hasn't a home. He will die without someone feeding him. Don't let your stupid geese scare him too."

He hated that. He hated that she talked like she was already dead. She wasn't. She wouldn't be. It won't happen. They needed her, here in Twelve. He needed her.

"You're not dead yet, shut the hell up, Trinket." He tightened his hold on her. "Shut up. You're not going anywhere." He kissed her forehead harshly. He was clumsy with his words and gestures. "Shut the fuck up because I won't let them take you away from me again."

The night was long and silent.