Disclaimer: Borrowing Collins' characters to play around with.

Chapter 1

Haymitch watched as Effie stepped out of the witness stand having just given her testimony on behalf of Katniss. As she was led away, she glanced briefly in his direction, her eyes locked with his. Haymitch gave a curt nod which she returned with a small smile.

Effie was the last witness for the day and Court was adjourned till the next morning.

Haymitch was quick to make his escape before the rest of the crowd. He slinked out of the double doors and went in search for Effie.

He found her sitting on a large slab of concrete from one of the many ruined buildings outside the Court. The sun was slowly setting, the orange glow casting a shadow over her.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps crunching over the gravel road and scooted aside to make room for him.

They sat in silence for a while, neither knowing what to say. Haymitch waited for her to speak. In all his years of knowing Effie, it was always her who filled the oppressive silence of the Penthouse with some mindless talk.

Effie said nothing and continued to watch the steady stream of people leaving the court house after Katniss's trial.

"They will most likely declare her mentally unstable tomorrow," Haymitch announced.

The judgment was tomorrow but having sat through the trial from the first day, having given his testimony and listening to others, it was apparent that mental instability was the only judgment that could be given to Katniss.

In his eyes, there was only two ways out of her current predicament. Katniss would either be released with the Capitol keeping a close eye on her, or she would be held in a mental institution. The latter was unlikely as the country was currently in ruins and rebuilding a mental institution solely for her was not top priority compared to the thousands of citizens waiting for a roof over their heads. Haymitch was certain keeping Katniss in the Capitol's custody was the last thing President Paylor wanted. She understood that it would be better for the Mockingjay to heal at home.

Effie nodded, agreeing with him. "It seems likely, yes."

"Whatever judgment they dole out, I have to be with her. Plutarch and I talked about it; she will most likely be released into an adult's custody and... I'm the only adult she's got left."

"Her mother -"

"Left. She left for another District. She's as broken as Katniss."

Haymitch took a silver flask from his pocket and tipped the contents in his mouth. He offered it to Effie, who to his surprise accepted the offer. She grimaced as she swallowed; the amber liquor burning as it trailed down her throat.

"It gets better," he told her. "You'll learn to accept the taste. And the burning sensation that comes with it, it's just some other... You get used to it after a while."

Haymitch frowned. He wasn't sure if he was still talking about the whiskey in his hand or the pain that everyone carried in their life, the pain that he carried with him and had learnt to accept ever since his family was brutally murdered.

"I'll manage. I always have," she replied determinedly, taking another sip before passing the flask back to him.

That one simple sentence was enough to convince him that Effie Trinket would survive. She would have her nightmares and her ghosts but she would survive it.

"If Katniss's sentenced back to Twelve, come with us," he asked, before he could stop himself.

His hand gripped the flask tightly, his knuckles turning white as he waited for her answer. Haymitch wasn't sure why her answer mattered so much to him. He couldn't explain the way his heart was beating furiously in his chest or the way he held his breath, waiting expectantly.

"I can't," she answered, shaking her head.

He brought the flask to his lips once again, his other hand curled into a fist by his side.

"Why?"

She extended her right leg and hitched her long skirt to expose a black thick band around her ankle with green and red beeping lights.

He looked up at her questioningly.

"Tracking anklet," she explained. "I understand that Katniss submitted my name with Coin for immunity. When she was assassinated, the immunity deal they made became void."

"This is my punishment," she added. "A small one, actually for all the years I spent picking out the names of children to send to their deaths -"

"Stop it. This isn't right. You were one of us and, unless they were all ignorant fools, they should know you were taken prisoner, Effie."

Her eyes flickered briefly up to his; a sad smile graced her lips. She looked despondent as though she had long ago accepted her fate.

"They took that into account. Plutarch testified on my behalf."

Haymitch started and shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't aware Effie had a trial. He wasn't informed of her trial, wasn't called to testify on her behalf. Somehow that thought disturbed him greatly. If there was anyone who was suited to speak for her on her behalf, wouldn't he be the person, ideally? He had after all spent a considerable number of years working with her for the Games, and they been in the Rebellion together as comrades.

"They considered the circumstances and my involvement with the Rebels and I was given the anklet. They couldn't just allow people like us who were involved in the Games to go unpunished simply because we worked with the Rebels. It's not... It's not really a punishment; it's more of a formality to show the country that new government are prepared to take tough stances if need be. I think the country needed this." Effie took a deep breath.

"I have to stay here, Haymitch, for two years and serve the new government in office. An administrative position. At least I have a job," she gave a wry smile.

Haymitch's hand curled and uncurled by his side. He looked at her. The light that used to fill her eyes was long gone replaced by an emptiness that was terribly misplaced with the vibrant Effie Trinket he used to know. Those were not her eyes. Those eyes belonged to someone who had gone through unimaginable pain and suffering. It was said that eyes were windows to the soul, and hers was broken and damaged. The war changed people and Effie wasn't an exception.

"And after your two years?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. Haymitch smiled, he had longed to hear her say those words all those years they had worked together. Effie always knew what to do, pen it down to the last detail in her schedule. Now, however, hearing her said it gave him no comfort.

"I want to travel. I want to see Panem. They say Four have nice beaches and the water are so clear you could see the fishes swimming. I want to see the districts."

Strangely, he understood her need to travel. It was only natural for her to want that bit of freedom, to travel where she wanted after two years of being shackled to the Capitol and having her every movement tracked.

"Plutarch has the anklet, too. For his years as Gamemaker. He'll be confined to Three."

"Why wasn't I informed of all these? Something not worth mentioning to the drunk, eh?" his voiced laced with irritation and anger. He could have helped. He was sure, drunk as he was, there was some way he could have been of help.

When he first met Effie Trinket, she was the very embodiment of everything he despised. The Games did not just change the Victors, it began to change her, too. Nobody escaped unscathed once they were trapped in the Games' clutches.

She had fought with them. She had been instrumental in intelligence gathering. Her connections amongst the escorts and sponsors meant she heard things and she reported it them to the Rebels. Haymitch had always prided himself for his ability to read people correctly but seeing her working relentlessly to bring down her beloved Capitol had completely thrown him off guard. Much to his disgust, he found himself drawn to that rebellious side of Effie; he was fascinated by her dedication, and her spirit.

Though he loathed to admit it, he had thoroughly enjoyed those nights sitting with her in his semi-sober state, conversing with her in subtle coded messages as she relayed to him information she had gathered. It was akin to having their own secret language, something that was undeniably theirs which no other person could hope to understand.

He could have helped her during her trial. He could have testified on her behalf. He could have –

"You had Katniss to worry about, Haymitch. My trial was over within a day. It was quick and painless."

Haymitch knew it wasn't painless. Her voice betrayed her.

XxX

Haymitch left with Katniss and Peeta for District 12 the next day.

His goodbye to Effie had been brief; the constant beeping sound of her anklet warning her that she was at the edge of the allowed perimeter grated on his ears.

"Don't be a stranger, Haymitch. Write me letters or call me. Will you promise?"

He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. The thought of leaving her behind pained him more than he was comfortable with.

"I'll visit Twelve when they take the anklet off and I'm allowed to travel. In the meantime, take care of yourself."

He grunted in response.

"Stay alive," she added, as an afterthought, using his old advice on him; an advice that had become a running joke in the District 12 team.

He scowled at her but moved closer. She tilted her head to look him. Haymitch deliberated as he questioned his own sanity. He shrugged the doubts away, convincing himself that if things went south, he could simply attest it to him being drunk. "Eff, I... There's something that I want you to –"

He was interrupted by the sound of the bell on the train, indicating that the train will be leaving the station.

He gave a slight shake of his head and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, the words he had wanted to say cast aside.

Haymitch stood by the window as his train pulled out of the station, watching Effie reduced to just another small detail in the background of the Capitol.

Just something I thought of during the weekends while watching White Collar. There will only be one other chapter after this.

Reviews are always appreciated. :)