A/N: So hi there! I've come to have a fair bit of writing muse in terms of one-shots since watching Mockingjay Part 2 (if you haven't seen it yet, why not? It's amazing!) Anyway, I don't feel like constantly posting new stories for just a few hundred or so words so welcome to my Hayffie one-shot collection :D

Stories will be set at various points throughout the trilogy as well as before and after. Not likely to be any sort of chronological order either as I'll just be writing as the ideas come, and sometimes I have more than one idea on how something could have worked out (such as Effie ending up in 13) so there could be multiple one-shots about the same thing.

Ramble over, hope you enjoy!

Katniss and Johanna left the group, taking the coil of wire down to the beach whilst Peeta and Finnick stayed to protect Beetee. It was time.

Haymitch stood, and started to walk towards the door. Suddenly he stopped, hesitating before he turned to face Effie. She was still sitting on the sofa, though her eyes were now watching him rather than the screen. She looked puzzled, clearly trying to work out what he was doing but not wishing to pry. She knew him well enough to know that he was a private man and respected him enough to let him be. She trusted that if he wanted her to know, he would tell her.

The trouble was, he wanted her to know. From the moment he saw her fighting to maintain her composure at the Quarter Quell reaping, he wanted to tell her that there was a plan. The rebels would free the Victors-Turned-Tributes from the arena. But he couldn't. Plutarch had been very insistent that they needed as few people as possible to know. Even Katniss and Peeta weren't told in case their inexperience with the Capitol caused them to somehow slip up. They hadn't spent as much time faking their way through life as the others had. If they knew they would be rescued, would their performance in the arena really be convincing? Given their recent poor attempt to convince President Snow they were in love, Plutarch was unwilling to risk it.

Effie was a definite no, too, Plutarch had told Haymitch when he suggested she be told the truth. She was born and raised in the Capitol, and Plutarch wasn't convinced that her loyalty to Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta was stronger than her loyalty to the Capitol. So Haymitch had reluctantly kept his mouth shut. At least she would honestly be able to deny all knowledge, he reasoned.

But now, as he stared at her, the thoughts he had so carefully locked away slipped through the cracks. Even if she did have no knowledge, what was to say the Capitol would believe her? The chances they wouldn't torture her were slim, and at the very least she would be imprisoned. It would break her. She put on a good performance with her chin up and her smile on, but Haymitch had come to know her well, and a performance was all it was now. She wore the makeup, the wigs and the dresses just as everyone else did in the Capitol, but it was a mask she hid behind. Beneath it all, Haymitch knew she had her vulnerabilities. She wouldn't cope with torture. Unbidden, an image crept into his mind of a dishevelled Effie in a prison cell, knees at her chest with her arms wrapped around them, too numb to even cry. He swallowed, pushing the thought away as he made his decision.

"Come with me." He said softly. She blinked, and he started to walk towards her. He stopped a few steps away, his hand outstretched.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"I can't tell you. Not yet." And he couldn't. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but he knew Plutarch wasn't entirely sure of her. He had told Haymitch not to say anything, and he would respect that. "Please, sweetheart," his tone lacked the usual sarcasm that laced that word, and he could see something in her eyes flicker. "Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do." She whispered, and Haymitch nodded.

"Then come with me."

She looked him in the eyes, and he could see her thoughts racing around. Then, he felt her hand join his, and he folded his fingers around it. He pulled her up, and walked swiftly to the door. He led her through the corridors, making sure he kept his pace steady and even so as not to give anything away.

They reached the roof of the training centre just as the ladder dropped from the hovercraft. Plutarch, who had arrived before them, turned. He frowned when he saw Effie.

"I didn't know you were bringing company, Haymitch."

"We can discuss this later." Haymitch said firmly. "We need to go."

As he was talking, he guided Effie towards the ladder. She hesitated, looking at him, and started to climb when he nodded. As Haymitch went to follow her, he felt a hand on his arm.

"Are you sure about this?" Plutarch said quietly, and Haymitch didn't even hesitate before he nodded.

"Yes."

"You really trust her?"

"With my life." Only then as he spoke the words aloud did he realise just how true they were.

He and Effie may have got off to a bad start when she was first placed as the escort for District 12, and it certainly hadn't got any better for a long time. But whenever he got himself too drunk at one of the parties she forced him to go to, she would quietly take him back to the penthouse. Of course they argued when they were back there more often than not, but she never made a scene. There were other things, too. He was not one to hold back his thoughts about the Capitol, in particular President Snow, and especially not when drunk, but no matter what he said, Effie had never reported him. He didn't know why, but she had kept him safe. Perhaps it was just that she felt it was her duty and responsibility as the escort for his District, but whatever the reason he had a lot to thank her for. And now, over the past year, he knew she cared as much for Katniss and Peeta as he did. So yes, he trusted her.

"Ok." Plutarch conceded, releasing Haymitch's arm and allowing him to ascend the ladder.

Plutarch waited for a moment, not wanting to put too much weight on the ladder at one time. He hadn't been pleased when Haymitch arrived with Effie. As far as he was concerned, she was just another Capitolite, head in the clouds and oblivious to everything around her. But when he questioned Haymitch just then, he had seen something in the other man's eyes. He cared for her. He cared what happened to her. And, most importantly to Plutarch, he really did trust her.