This story popped into my head and for some reason wouldn't leave until it was written. There is a personal story that inspired this, but I won't explain that until the end of the third chapter because then it would give away what's going to happen between now and then. I'm curious about where people think I'm going to take this so please let me know your thoughts in a review. Thanks and please enjoy my story.

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Sometimes Effie just wished everything wasn't about smoke and mirrors. Why couldn't she have been born to a District life? Things were so much simpler for them; their enemy obvious, as well as friends; they were free to express their feelings, without everything being analysed. The people in the Districts didn't know how lucky they were.

Effie shook her head. Maybe it wasn't District life exactly that she was envying, but life away from the scrutiny of the paparazzi and media. Every action, gesture, tone and time spent in people's company scrutinised. She was sick of it.

Effie was tired. And tired was so dangerous for her. She knew she was slipping up; her cracks beginning to show. She just had to find the strength to get through this year then it would all be over.

One way or another for her.

Effie heard footsteps enter her room. She didn't need to look to know who it was.

"I had to leave before I said something I would regret, Haymitch. She made Seneca's death sound like a thing of idle gossip and I couldn't deal with that. He was so much more than just… He deserves to be remembered for more than just his death."

"I ain't here to judge you Sweetheart. Way too much shit going on for me to have the time to do that."

He went to her bedside table and turned on the radio.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, but I'm not fine at all," she confessed, looking over her ruined face. She would have to completely re-do it before she could be seen by anyone. Anyone except Haymitch that is.

"Sweetheart, I know you were close to Crane, but I didn't think you two were that close. You've gotta get past this. A lot more people are gonna die before this thing is over."

Effie was sure she was imagining it, but it almost sounded like there was a jealous tone to Haymitch's words. That was a can of worms she couldn't decide if she wanted to open or not.

No, there wasn't time for that now.

"Seneca's death isn't something I can just shrug off Haymitch," she said, wiping away the last remains of her make up.

"I'm not saying you should, but you can't say it's unexpected."

"There is a world of difference between the expectation of an unpleasant event and the reality of its pain and finality!" Effie was a little shocked at the venom in her own words. She took a deep breath before she continued, both speaking and her make up reapplication. "You don't know any where near as much about me as you think you do if your expect me to be unaffected by Katniss actions."

"Because of Crane? You can't say her attitude was completely unexpected. She was emotional, and you know our girl gets stupid when she gets emotional." He looked at her closely through the mirror. "It is because of Crane." He forced her to stand, spinning her to face him, her face only half finished. "What was the deal between you and Crane? You have always been oddly vague about details, and him too; but not this time. Tell me Effie Trinket, who was Seneca Crane to you?"

His grey eyes bore into her blue, searching out any hint of a lie she might try and press through her lips. Why this mattered so much to him, Effie could only guess.

"He was the only man I have ever implicitly trusted. I trust him to never change his mind about how he feels for me; I always felt secure in my relationship with him," she answered, her voice and eyes unwavering.

"You loved him," Haymitch ground out, his voice a mix of wonder and pained disgust taking a half step back.

"Unconditionally," Effie agreed. "And I know he loved me unconditionally back."

There was more she wanted to say, but obviously Haymitch didn't want to hear it. He stormed out of the room. Effie suspected that if he could have, he would have slammed the doors behind him.

Effie wasn't sure how she expected Haymitch to react, but that wasn't it. She sighed wearily. She should go after him and clarify what she said, but she was tired; so tired.

Effie could either help her Tributes, or her Mentor, she didn't have the mental strength to deal with both at the moment. And facing Haymitch would be harder than facing two young people she'd grown to care for and was sending into the Arena for a second time. Now was not the time for her to face this thing between her and Haymitch. Not that there ever was time for them to explore or even name what this was.

'And there never will be,' she realised sadly. 'We will either be victorious, and he will not have time for me, or we lose and we'll all be dead.'

Finishing off her reapplied make up, she looked over herself one more time in the mirror. Double checking for any obvious indication she'd shed a few tears.

Nodding at not finding any, she muttered to herself, "Eyes bright, chin up, and smile on."