"Plutarch, you rascal," Effie mutters to herself as she wanders down yet another swirling dark hall in District Thirteen. The place truly is an subterranean prison, you would think they would have a layout that made some kind of architectural sense. She shivers from a chilling breeze wafting through the hallway and pulls her makeshift hood over her head. Something had to undue the drab practicality of these jumpsuits. With a sigh of frustration, she checks the schedule unceremoniously tagged to her wrist: Reflection...
Effie starts to turn back when she collides into someone.
"My word, I'm sorry, I didn't even hear you there," she laughs nervously.
A man in uniform takes a few steps back, staring at her.
Effie clears her throat, "Excuse me..."
"You're that Capitol trash Escort, aren't you?"
Effie starts, jolted by his hostility, "I don't believe I have made your acquaintance. I am Effie Trinket. Assistant to Plutarch Heavensbee, and Katniss Everdeen. Would you be a dear and help me to get back to the dormitories?"
"You're not supposed to be here," the man takes several steps towards her until she can feel his breath on her face, "You know there are a lot of folks out there with the stars in their eyes for you. Ain't never seen anything brighter than this here steel with the light gleaming off it."
He gestures to the steel poles lining the wall.
"How delightful, I'm always happy to expose someone to new things. Now, if you would excuse me..." Effie bypasses him, and retraces her steps in silence.
"What do you think about the role you played in all those vicious deaths, huh? None of them could've ever fought back. They just had their lives knocked out of 'em, while you dined on the best food, flaunted your dresses, and smiled for the cameras," the man haunts her.
When she hears the hum of activity radiating from the cavity of District Thirteen, Effie sighs in relief.
"A bunch of us would love for the tables to turn. Pitch a load of you folks from the Capitol in the arena,"The man smirked to himself as if playing up every devastating act towards the Capitol in his mind. "How's that sound? Do you have any children?"
Effie speeds up.
"I asked you a question, Escort!"
"That's why I am here. To aid against the further suffering..."
"Better yet, how about Coin pull your name out of the Reaping bowl, huh?"
Effie races towards the doorway, and the man grabs her from behind. She screams feeling a sharp pain in her back from the bruising concrete wall.
"Unhand me! How dare-Ahh."
Effie cradles her cheek, now stinging from his calloused hand.
He grabs her by the collar, "Consider yourself warmly welcomed to our District, Miss Trinket," he growls.
Effie turns her head into the wall, and suddenly she doesn't feel his breath on her face anymore. When she looks up, she sees the man pinned against the opposite wall by...
Haymitch Abernathy?
"You don't touch her. Ever. Not in your wet dreams," Haymitch says. His voice is quiet, smoking like a match that's been lit just before it hits a stack of dry wood.
"Oh, I see what's happening. You've been inside of her. Inside of a whore who killed your family after your games."
Haymitch growls, taking the man by his collar and slamming him against the wall again, before bashing him with his fists again and again.
Effie shakes herself out of the shock of Haymitch Abernathy, and rushes forward, "Haymitch, stop. Stop! Please. It's all right. Madame President-"
"Go back to your room, Effie," Haymitch's chest heaves as he kicks the man now writhing on the floor in the stomach.
Effie wraps her hands around his forearm, "Please...do you know what this could mean?"
Delivering another swift kick to the stomach, Haymitch turns to her, "There's nothing they could do to me that hasn't already been done by your friends in the Capitol so just-"
Effie jerks backward clutching her stomach as if he had pulled his arm as far back as he could and punched her. Even after everything, he still...
"Damn it!," Haymitch pounds his fists into the wall, "I didn't...Eff..."
Slipping out of her heels, she storms around the corner, slipping deeper and deeper into the center of District Thirteen before finally finding her dormitory. She rushes inside, slides the door shut, screams into her palms, sees flashes of the children, like dark spots after looking into the sun for too long, the ones whose names she pulled out of that bowl.
Did no one else see? That was her punishment. To watch children die year after year and never be able to do a thing about it but smile, and offer each tribute as much Lamb Stew as they wished before the guillotine fell.
And now one of them lay in an infirmary crying out for the other trapped in the Capitol.
Effie jolts at an abrupt knock sounding on the door.
"Open up, Effie."
Swiping her wet face, she springs up from the floor, brushing down her makeshift dress. She must have tossed her scarf elsewhere in the spectacle, because her blond curls fall freely around her face, and before she can grab something, anything to hide them, the door slides open.
"Just like Thirteen not to have locks that actually work."
"Get out, Haymitch."
Haymitch frowns, "Between you and Katniss, I don't know who's more excited to see me."
She sits at her table and crosses her legs.
Haymitch looks different to say the least, not to say he looked any better. He normally held a lazy dishevelment, the scent of whisky tainting his sweat, staining his clothes. Now the air around him is pure, yet medicinal, his sky blue eyes clear, but his bruised fingers tremble as he pulls them out of his sweater pockets, and his face looks older after just a few short weeks. His black hat however suited him here. She watches as he slides the door shut behind him. He eyes her up and down with a grimace on his face.
"I didn't mean-"
Effie holds her hand up, "Yes you did. We're in Thirteen. We can stop pretending we hold anything for each other at all. I'm Capitol Trash."
"Don't be stupid!" Haymitch's hands curl into tight fists at his sides.
"What like I was for trusting you during the Quarter Quell? You said you would keep us safe. You agreed when I said that we were a team."
"You wouldn't be here if I thought any less of you."
"You already don't trust me enough with the truth. If you did, I would have known at the soonest possible moment that men dressed in Peacekeeper uniforms would burst into my room, and drag me off to a hovercraft carrying a Gamemaker, that poor poor girl out of her mind with fear and a good for nothing drunk of a mentor who abandoned another important facet of our team to the elements."
"We'll rescue Peeta. Plutarch promised me..."
"Plutarch is not the person you promised to keep safe."
"What the hell do you think this is? And Why are you dressed that way? You're not on camera. Caesar's not gonna pull a fast one and somehow appear in here with a camera in your face to herald your heroics. I need you to think, Effie."
"I never asked to join your rebellion Haymitch."
Haymitch frowns, "You need to wear your uniform like everyone else here. You don't go out there in all that jazz. It's only gonna put a fire under you that you're not ready for. And then I'll have to save you."
Effie laughs, "A drunk, save me?"
"Mostly sober," Haymitch groans, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Visiting hours are over."
Haymitch's eyes glisten as he walks over to her bunk, and slumps down, his forehead crinkling.
"Are you okay?" Effie asks before she can cover her concern.
"Next time you leave this room, you're gonna dress like everyone else. And you're not gonna ruffle anymore feathers. Are we clear?"
"You think it was appropriate, how he assaulted me?" Effie shoots from her chair, walks over to the door and slides it open. "Get out Haymitch."
"Calm down, Effie-"
"Get. Out. Haymitch."
Before she can collect herself, Haymitch storms over and slams the door shut behind her, imprisoning her with his arms on either side of her face.
"Listen to me, Sweetheart!" Haymitch whispers directly into her left ear, "They took my knife away, and that's good for them because when he laid his hands on you, I saw him die right then, that's why you're gonna stop being risky, and follow through."
He pulls away far enough to cup the side of Effie's cheek now an angry red. His fingers tremble as he grazes them across the bruise.
"I'm sorry, Eff. I couldn't tell you about the plans. Everyone is watching, and if news got round that you knew anything I-" Haymitch closed his eyes and sighed. "Everything I'm doing now is for Katniss and Peeta. Everything I'm doing now is for you, do you understand me?"
"Haymitch-"Effie breathes.
He grazes his nose against hers and whispers, "Don't do anything stupid okay? That girl, she's torn up. She needs you. Join us. I can't...There's no liquor and I can't do it with out you, Princess."
Effie smiles slowly, a face awash in tears. She places her hand over his on the side of her face. "You're not alone. I'm here."
Haymitch takes a long gulp of the stale allotment of air surrounding them.
"I'm gonna make everything better."
Effie nods, pressing her face into the side of his neck. She feels his fingers knit their way into the curls that so few people had seen.
He pulled back, kissed her eyes, the corner of her mouth.
"Nice hair, Princess," Haymitch tilts his head, staring at her hair as if it were yet another piece to the puzzle that is Effie Trinket.
"Are you going to see Katniss?" Effie asks.
"I've got some business with Plutarch and Madam President," Haymitch says the last sardonically. "We've gotta whip the girl into shape."
"Don't make any plans without me. That's our family out there."
"Don't sweat it. Just be safe."
Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it! The Mockingjay score works wonders in setting the mood. I hope I've done well capturing Thirteen, and our dears. Sorry for any OOC.
