Hello! First off, thank you so much for all your reviews & favourites. I noted that some of you seemed interested to read this story in Haymitch's POV, so I've written it. Sorry that it took quite a while (I spent a week on this) and I enjoyed every single minute writing this in his POV.
Just a note, this story runs concurrently with the events in Chapter 1 only I have a little extra scene at the ending! Having said that, hope you enjoy reading this :)
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Maybe except Julius Hoffman & he's such a minor one at that.
Haymitch - Part I
The sitting room was dark; the only light source came from the muted television showing an encore telecast of the Reaping for what seemed to be the second time that night. Haymitch sat slumped on the leather sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him, working his way steadily through the contents of his whiskey bottle.
Effie wasn't in her room nor was she anywhere in the Penthouse. He knew that because he had searched for her, wanting to talk to her about what he did during the Reaping. He wasn't sorry that he had mocked the Capitol but he knew Effie had not appreciated him giving her a sloppy hug and messing with her wig. The surprised woman had stiffened in his arm before clearing her throat and proceeded with the Reaping as if nothing was amiss.
The television screen was showing images of the Reaping from District 7 but he wasn't paying it any attention. At that moment, he was just staring blankly at the wall – his mind clearly preoccupied with something else.
Something had been nagging at him. It made him feel queasy and unsettled but he couldn't exactly pinpoint the precise cause of it. All he knew was that whatever it was had something to do with the exuberant Capitol escort whose bright clothes burnt his retinas each time he set his eyes on her. The Capitol escort whose whereabouts were currently unknown, worrying him slightly. She had been disappearing far more often the past few years and each time she returned to the Penthouse, she would lock herself in her room only appearing when she had to usher her Tributes somewhere.
The lights flooded the room and Haymitch eyes squinted against the sudden intrusion of light. He turned around and saw her slipping into the Penthouse, unaware of his presence. He noted the little details that didn't quite sit right with her – the way she gripped her purse, turning her knuckles white, the clasp at the back of her skirt was unhooked and it only held up because she had zipped it and her wig looked like she had placed it on top of her head without paying it much attention. In other words, Haymitch's brain registered that wherever she came from, she had dressed in a hurry before making her way back again.
He sneered. A party, Haymitch thought, his mind already forming assumptions. And then, the princess probably had a man to bring her home. Knowing her, she would ask for a favour or two for the Games. What else would these pampered Capitol citizens do – they don't have to work in the coal mines or –
"Had a good time, sweetheart? Partying with your friends? Celebrating District Twelve's first volunteer?" he asked, interrupting his own thoughts before Effie could slip past him silently.
He knew he didn't have to be so harsh but there was just something about the way she looked tonight that irked and provoked him. Effie was here standing in front of him – the easiest person to lash out at.
"You're drunk, Haymitch. You don't know what you're talking about."
He bristled at her assumption even though he had made assumptions on his own just moments ago. As if to prove some kind of point, he made his way towards her, trying to walk as steadily as he could.
Her make-up was smudged which was odd because she had always been impeccable in her dressing. He was intrigued, never having seen her like this before. Well, he had once, two years ago. But that was a glimpse and Effie had already disappeared into her assigned room before he could take a good look at her. His eyes narrowed a fraction. Those were tear tracks on her cheeks and a bruise at the corner of her lips. A bruise that had only just begun to form.
He raised his hand. Before he could process what he was doing, his hand had caressed her cheeks and his thumb had wiped her tear stained cheek. Her powder came off with it and stuck to his thumb, revealing a fraction of Effie Trinket's pale skin underneath the layer of powder.
"Don't touch me."
He blinked in surprise and retracted his hand, having just realised what he was doing. Haymitch stared at her and he could feel the initial anger he had earlier stir inside of him. Was it necessary for her to snap at him that way when he only wanted to – what was he doing anyway? Had he gone soft?
When Haymitch was hurt, he reacted in the only way he knew how, which was to hurt the person as equally as he had been hurt.
"You smell of cigarette and sex."
She tore her gaze away and he felt triumphant for a moment. That feeling pressed him onwards and he leaned towards her because he wasn't done yet.
"Did you let him touch you or were you as snappy with him as you were with me? He wouldn't have like that. I suppose that would explain the bruise on the corner of your lips."
"Don't ever speak to me like that ever again, Mr. Abernathy. You don't know half the things you claim you know."
He hated it when she called him so formally that way. His father was Mr. Abernathy and as far as Haymitch was concerned he had not lived up to be half the man his father was. Calling him Mr. Abernathy only reminded him of the failure he was.
"My name's Haymitch, and you had better use it, sweetheart."
XxX
He watched her as she moved about the Penthouse and as she sat with her back straight and her legs crossed daintily at the ankles watching the Games. Haymitch continued observing her throughout the day. She was at that moment sitting on the dining table head bent down, absent-mindedly tapping her pen against the table, studying whatever it was on her clipboard.
She had held her ground that night when he had lashed out on her and he was impressed. All the years they spent together, Effie had learnt to back off when he was in one of his moods but she had never before stood her ground like she did that night.
Haymitch studied her. Had she always been this tense? He searched his memories of her and only then did he realise that the extremely chipper and bubbly human that she was had slowly sobered until she had become who she was now before him.
He wondered if she had finally taken off the rose-tinted glasses and saw the Games for the loss of lives that they were. Most importantly, he wondered when exactly Effie experienced that epiphany.
Little did he know that Effie was watching him too, but for a completely different reason – to make sure that he wouldn't do anything that would get her in trouble.
When Haymitch closed the deal for their first sponsor, he had expected Effie to be ecstatic. Perhaps, a smile on her face as she congratulated him for a job well done, for doing his job for a change. She looked distracted and her rambling flew past by his head.
Something was wrong with her. He knew it.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked, lowering his voice as he spoke.
A pause as her eyes darted about the room. She's afraid, Haymitch realised.
"Nothing."
Well, what was he expecting – a confession of Effie Trinket's innermost fears and darkest secrets in the middle of the Games Headquarters?
He didn't believe her, not for a second. He had learned to read the signs and tell when someone was lying to him and that was exactly what Effie had done – lie to him.
He heard Chaff calling out for him and he turned to face the intoxicated large man waving at him. Turning briefly towards her, he hesitated. Haymitch hated not knowing and loathe as he was to admit it, the questions he had surrounding Effie was keeping him awake at night. He needed Effie back but she seemed so... distant. She wasn't there and if only it was easy as shaking her shoulders roughly and snapping her out of her reverie.
No, now was not the time to solve this mystery. He had tributes to look after in the arena. He had someone depending on him and for once, he didn't want to fail. Haymitch had forgotten what it was like to be needed.
"Go on then, wait by the screen. Our first sponsor in a long while, you wouldn't wanna miss that, sweetheart."
XxX
Haymitch's fingers curled around the edges of a cushion, lying on his side as he watched Katniss and Peeta with the nightlock berries in the palm of their hands. Effie sat tensed beside him and the moment the announcement was made, she jumped to her feet, fist pumping the air in a victory celebration.
He grinned at her uncharacteristic behaviour. Her first victory and he couldn't help smiling at the look on her face. Her smile was pure and genuine – her eyes lighting up. Haymitch liked how human she looked now. And then her face changed, her mask slipped. Her hands fell by her side and she stared unblinkingly at the screen. Haymitch saw her sag before his very eyes and he needed to get her away from the sitting room before Portia or any of the prep team realised that something was wrong. Cinna was already watching her curiously but Cinna had never been an issue.
He took her by the elbow and led her to his room. She didn't protest and the look on her face told Haymitch everything he needed to know – her expression spoke volumes. She knows – she instinctively seems to know that any sign of defiance to the Capitol could bring trouble.
"Speak."
She shook her head and glanced around the room. Effie had been in his room too many times before for him to pass it off as her being curious about the state of his room. She was looking for something. Smart move, Trinket.
"The bug's there. They won't be able to make out the words. Just muffled voices," he told her softly, trying to coax her to speak.
Still, despite the reassurance that they won't be heard, she kept adamantly quiet. It was up to him to offer something to make her realise that she could talk to him. He wasn't sure why he wanted to do this, but there was something about this woman that made his protectiveness surge to the surface. He needed to know what was wrong with her – that was all he promised himself. He just needed that peace of mind knowing that everything was alright with Effie. That the recent years when he noticed that she hasn't been herself was because she was still stuck in Twelve with no career advancement, or she was denied a pay raise preventing her from spending money buying extravagant clothes - normal everyday problems for a typical Capitol citizen. He knew he was deluding himself. Somebody who didn't get a pay raise wouldn't look as scared as a trapped animal half the time.
"You know they're in trouble," he stated and waited for her reaction.
He was afforded with a nod. That was a start.
"I saw your face change when you realized what they've done. You're a pretty damn good actress, Trinket. But when you think no one's looking, your mask slips and I see someone else. I know - your mask slipped on several occasions with me around. You thought I was too drunk to notice."
He was rewarded with a much more satisfactory reaction with that speech he just made. She buried her face in his hands and he had to strain his ears to make out her mumbled words.
"What do you see?"
He shrugged and leaned on his palms. If there was one thing about himself that Haymitch was proud of, it was that he always strived to tell the truth when the situation called for it and this was one of those times.
"Someone vulnerable, someone human. You're scared half the time. Your eyes looked manic. It's the same look in a tribute's eyes when they realized that there's no way out."
"You're very observant."
"It's easier to watch people when they pass you off for a drunk. Like you."
"Why are you watching me?"
There it was again – the panic, the fear. What was it with that woman? He decided not to press her anymore. There was no need to rile her up any further. He smiled and tried to reassert the status quo. He doesn't want her to think that he cared for her.
"You're the only one who's always around for me to look at." That wasn't a lie, she was always around unless of course he counted those moments when she disappeared for hours on end without informing him.
"Be careful, sweetheart. Keep that mask on - things are going to be a lot more difficult now."
He watched her warily and curiously when she moved to stand in front of him. His feet stayed rooted to the floor when he felt her lips brush softly against his cheeks. Then she was gone, but her scent lingered and Haymitch breathed it in. Strawberry, vanilla and something undeniably female.
XxX
He staggered into the Penthouse, and for once he was exceedingly grateful for the Peacekeepers stationed outside the entrance of the Training Centre. It was the Third Quarter Quell and he was the only living Victor from a previous Quell, which meant that he had spent most of his time since he reached the Capitol evading the press.
The door opened behind him again and an Avox walked in, carrying a bouquet of flowers in her arms. Haymitch frowned and approached the Avox, who stopped in her tracks. He relieved the Avox of the flowers, his curiosity getting the better of him. The card on the flower said it came from some guy named Julius Hoffman. Do I know any Julius Hoffman? A sponsor?
He stopped by the bar cart and grabbed a bottle of wine before heading to Effie's room to deliver her those flowers. He would have given it back to the Avox for her to deliver it to Effie but the Avox was gone.
The name Julius Hoffman still had not rang any bells when he reached Effie's bedroom. The door was opened and he stepped in. He stopped short and stared at the image of Effie on the mirror. She looks like a doll, he thought disgustedly to himself. The powder covering her pale skin was thicker, the eye shadows were of a brighter shade than normal and her lipstick was bright red. In his eyes, she looked exactly like one of those Capitol women Haymitch had picked up from the bar during his early years as a mentor. He clenched his jaws at the sight of her.
"Going somewhere?"
He knew what was coming. She would leave the Penthouse, disappear for hours and when she came back, she would disappear into her room until the next agenda on her schedule pulled her out. That wasn't even the worse of it. The look on her eyes each time she came back was what usually unhinged him. They were lost and helpless, and Haymitch could almost hear her silent plea for help whenever she accidentally looked him in the eye.
To this day, he still couldn't understand the stirring in his chest and the overwhelming need to help her each time she came back looking like a shadow of her former self. He wanted to pull her out of the abyss that she had lost herself into but he couldn't help her, not if he didn't know what her main problem was. And why should he help her? Was it his duty to care for her?
Yes, he should care about Effie Trinket, if only to return the favour over the countless times she had taken care of him when he was too drunk to tell right from left.
They were exchanging barbed words now and the bottled-up comment he had about her eyes had nearly slipped out. There was no need to tell her what he thought about her eyes and how it affected him.
"For someone who doesn't care, you notice a lot of things about me," she had hissed at him. Then she was gone - sidestepped him and left the room.
But he did care and he whispered it to the shadows, only she was already gone.
"Wrong again, sweetheart."
XxX
The moment Katniss' arrow made a chink in the force field, Haymitch sprung into action. Effie remained seated on the sofa, her eyes glued to the screen, her posture rigid.
"Get moving, Trinket!" he shouted before running into his room to gather the papers. When he came out again, he saw her in the exact same position.
He gave her a sidelong glance as he strode towards the fireplace, throwing Rebel plans on scraps of paper in the fire. The scraps of paper would not have made any sense if someone were to pick it up and attempt to read it, but Haymitch wasn't taking any chances.
He turned and spoke over his shoulder, "Get your things, Effie. I told you to pack yesterday. Get your things, hurry."
There was still no movement. Her sense of urgency had decided to abandon her on that day of all days. When she wilfully refused to get her things as he instructed her to, he lost his patience. With two quick strides, he was standing in front of her again, shaking her roughly as he pulled her up from the sofa.
When she spoke next, his breath caught in his throat.
"No, Haymitch. You go. You're needed at Thirteen. I'll stay here. I can do a lot from here. Lead them away from you... False information..."
No, he shook his head angrily. No, she can't do this to herself. Since when has she been so selfless? Or has she always been that way, only I was too blind to notice?
She didn't seem to understand it. He had to bring her along, or President Snow would get to her. She would be tortured for information and he could not even imagine that woman in a prison cell. They would break her and tear her apart until there was nothing left for them to take.
"You'll die," his voice was urgent, pleading for her to understand him.
"That was a risk we all took when we agreed to this, Haymitch."
Her hand was on his cheek now. Effie had never touched him unless it was to help him to his room, or to clean him up when he vomited from all the alcohol he had drunk. She had very soft hands, her smooth palm laid flat against his cheek. The feeling was so foreign to him that he briefly closed his eyes to savour the moment.
When he opened them again, Effie's blue eyes were trained on him. He didn't miss the grim determination flashing in her eyes but he had to try one last time. As they stood facing each other in a battle of wills on who would back down first, Haymitch realised just how human Effie was beneath the Capitol doll-like image she projected for Panem.
He would never have believed that there was anything else to the layers of make-up and gaudy Capitol clothing she wore when he had first known her but over time, as he watched the life seep away from her eyes, he began to pay more attention. He noticed the chink in her armour, the slow erosion of her Capitol personality when she thought she was alone. The only thing he couldn't figure out was the 'why'. Nobody changes without a reason; something must have happened to her.
"This is stupid. This is self-sacrifice. Come along, now," he tugged her hand, and swallowed dryly.
"It has been self-sacrifice for so long now."
He frowned, trying to comprehend what she meant. He opened his mouth to ask her but she was pushing him towards the door of the Penthouse.
"You're wasting time, Haymitch. Go now."
He resisted. The sheer desperation he felt, the fear of leaving her behind and not knowing if she would survive imprisonment was crippling him. He had no time to analyse his behaviour - to question why he desperately needed Effie to come with him, to see her safe as they made their move against the Capitol.
It's because we've worked together for so long, he tried to rationalise it.
He remembered her talking to Finnick, remembered the times Finnick talked about her and the numerous occasions Finnick had rebuked him for always being so hard on Effie. He wasn't blind; he could see the friendship between those two. Haymitch was grasping at straws and a white lie now wouldn't hurt. Not if it meant she would be safe.
"I promised. I promised Finnick that I'll bring you along."
He hadn't, of course. He never made promises to anyone.
The mention of Finnick's name seemed to break something in her. She cried, the tears slipping down her cheeks. Still, she didn't relent and Haymitch knew that she was a lost cause. She had always been stubborn and nothing he said now would change her mind.
"Stay alive for me, Haymitch."
There it was again, the stirring in his heart. The pressure on his chest, and oddly enough, a warm feeling spreading through him. Somebody wanted him to live.
He moved forward towards her and held her face between his hands. If he couldn't bring her with him, he would try his damned best to get her out. He wasn't sure how that would be possible but his conviction remained strong.
And for the first time, in a long while, he made a promise to a person other than himself. "I'll come for you. Just... Don't give up, stay strong."
Then she laughed, nervously but she laughed nonetheless. That small petite woman in front of him was trying to be brave and fight for a cause that would destroy her home and ironically, just as he was about to lose her, he realised how much he would miss her.
He had nothing left to lose. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, or the thought that this could be the last time he would ever see her so he didn't give it much thought as he dipped his head and brushed his lips against her.
The kiss was soft and he was hesitant, gauging her reaction. He expected to be shoved and slapped so when she kissed him back, he was genuinely surprised. Effie was nothing like he had ever imagined and his sense went on overdrive. The only thought that crossed his mind was a storm. She was everything mixed into one. Effie was life, smile and tears, years of anger and frustration. She was bitter and sweet and pain, a definite thorn in his side.
When he pulled away and looked at her, her eyes were still closed and her lips were still parted slightly. Her face was flushed and she was slightly out of breath. When she opened her eyes, Haymitch knew it was time to go. He couldn't look at her any longer or he would be tempted to stay, Rebellion be damned.
He gave her one last look and bolted out of the Penthouse towards the rooftop where the hovercraft would be.
During the entire ride to District 13, the kiss played over and over again in his head. Even with the alcohol, he swore he could feel her lips on his, the way she parted them to let their tongues run against each other.
XxX
Days turned to weeks, and Haymitch began to despair. Nothing sat well with him – the pillow was too soft, his bed was too warm, the timetable around his wrist was too restrictive, the lack of alcohol was making his body feel physically ill, Plutarch was too loud and jovial for someone in the middle of a war, and Katniss seemed to be beyond his control. He hated it in District Thirteen.
He hated how it felt like to be surrounded by all these soldiers, all these refugees and yet so alone. Not for the first time, he wished Effie was there with her clipboard in her hands mumbling about her schedule. Effie wasn't the best company but she had always been there by his side, always taken for granted and was sorely missed now that she was gone.
No, not gone. Her fate's just unknown.
Missing. Unlocated. Untraced. It was all better than dead.
A delirious Johanna Mason uttered her name as the nurses strapped her to the hospital bed. Haymitch happened to be in the same room, hovering over Katniss who had just been attacked by Peeta when he heard her say Effie's name. It caught his attention because Johanna Mason would not have any reason to be mumbling that escort's name.
He was by Johanna's side within seconds, gripping the woman by her shoulder and demanding answers.
"You said Effie. Effie Trinket. Where she is? Have you seen her? Mason, come on – come on, is she alive?"
Plutarch was pulling him back, trying to drag him away from the weak injured Victor but Haymitch fought him.
"Johanna! Is she alive?" he screamed as more soldiers dragged him away.
He caught her eyes and the brief nod of her head. Haymitch leaned heavily against the wall, pulling his arm free from a soldier's grip.
"She's alive," he said out loud, testing the words and trying to wrap his head around the news.
"Who? Trinket?"
He nodded, too exhausted to talk. The energy seemed to have left him after the struggle in the hospital room.
"We gotta get her out, Plutarch. I promised her. We got to – "
"Coin would never allow it. Going back to the Capitol just to rescue a Capitol escort? Effie means nothing to Coin or her cause, she won't agree. A Capitol citizen working for the Games – she's worthless to Alma Coin."
"She means something to me," he shouted at Plutarch, his chest heaving from the sheer anger he felt.
Plutarch grinned despite the seriousness of the situation and looked at Haymitch.
"Are you in love with her?"
That question took him by surprise that his head snapped to look at Plutarch. The anger dissipated to be replaced by confusion and an uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest – Plutarch was probing into things that should have just been left alone.
"What?"
XxX
This was war and his needs did not triumph over the cause. He had done everything he could – which mostly involved him shouting at Coin and trying to get her to see reason. He didn't need a rescue team, he'd go to the Capitol alone and he would bring Effie back.
He was denied at every turn. Katniss needed him and so, he had been ordered to stay by her side – the only reason why he was still alive, he presumed. After all the trouble he had caused Coin, he wouldn't be surprised if Coin had wanted to kill him if not for her precious Mockingjay.
"I've seen you more alive fighting for Effie Trinket than I've ever seen you even before the Rebellion started," Plutarch had commented dryly to him one day.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means exactly what I said. Think about it, will you?"
He thought about it and he thought about it for days when he couldn't sleep at night. But what Plutarch said had not made any sense to him and he dismissed it as unimportant.
He was there when the Rebels stormed the Capitol, and he felt the heat from the blast sear his skin even before he realised what was happening. In the confusion that followed, nobody paid him any attention and he slipped out of the hovercraft without much problem.
Johanna Mason had told him in great detail the place where the Victors were held captive as she sat beside Haymitch in District Thirteen's command centre, talking angrily about Snow. Katniss and the squad had just been sent to the Capitol for more propos leading up to the assassination.
He found out that two days after Johanna Mason was captured, Effie Trinket became her cell mate and the only reason Effie wasn't rescued the day the rescue team was sent to the Capitol for the victors was because she had been dragged out of their cell a day before to be interrogated. Pure bad luck, if ever there was any.
The thick black smoke that had descended down the Capitol was making it difficult for him to breathe or see for that matter but he pushed on. He needed to get to Effie and that need drove him forward.
XxX
The Capitol was in complete chaos and destruction. Citizens were running amok in the streets, Peacekeepers were attempting to bring order and fight off Rebels at the same time.
Capitol guards and Peacekeepers alike were trying to get out of the prison as multiple blasts shook the earth. Haymitch was going against the flow of human traffic as he pressed on towards Effie.
The corridor was dark and he held his torchlight up above his head to light his way, checking each cell. He grew more desperate at each empty cell, at each dead body he came across in the prison.
There was a body lying prone on the ground of that cell he was currently in. The blouse was torn and dirty but it had once been a shade of green. The same shade of green Effie wore the day he left her at the Penthouse.
The light from his torch slowly travelled up the figure from the legs and finally to the swollen, blood covered face. Effie. He recognised her and something spurred him to action. He rushed forward, kneeling in front of her, mumbling incoherent sentences, begging and pleading for her to be alive.
"Oh, no, no, no," his hand was shaking as his fingers reached out for her neck, trying to feel for a pulse. "Please be alive. Effie, please."
He tried to be gentle, tried not to hurt her any more than was absolutely necessary. There were cuts and bruises all over her. And blood was everywhere – dry blood on the floor, fresh blood seeping from newly inflicted wounds on her body.
Her eyes fluttered opened and he heaved an immense sigh of relief. In a singular uncharacteristic gesture, he rested his forehead against hers, and whispered hoarsely, "I'll get you out, just like I promised. I need you to stay strong, for a little while longer."
To be continued...
A/N: Haymitch's POV turned out to be extremely long that I decided to make it into two parts which will be uploaded later on today. Please do leave a review and let me know your take on this :)
