So here we are at chapter two. I know these take me a little while to bang out, so I always try and make them a little longer for you all. If anybody is curious at all, the choice of torturing Effie on a wheel was quite deliberate... google St Euphemia for more details on that :)

Another trigger warning on this chapter... there are heavy allusions to sexual violence in this chapter as well as discussion of imprisonment, torture and alcoholism. Safe to say this one is a little heavy, but I'm a firm believer in a happy ending.

Thank you, Em, for looking at this at 1am instead of sleeping like a normal person. You're a doll!

I still don't own, and like everybody else, I'm gutted by the loss of Phillip Seymour Hoffman. May he find the peace he couldn't in this life.


It had been a week and Effie's leg was showing no sign of infection as it healed. The District Thirteen doctors had been pumping her with drugs to help speed up the healing process, but for such a major injury, it was still a long road to recovery.

"Doing well there, Sweetheart," Haymitch teased as Effie hobbled with the aid of crutches from the tiny bathroom back to her bed.

Effie just rolled her eyes in response. She refused to admit how privileged she felt, being able to use the bathroom on her own. There had been no sense of privacy during her imprisonment and her leg had initially kept her so immobile that she'd been forced to suffer the indignity of a bedpan.

"When do I get to leave this room, Haymitch?" Effie asked. She was so tired of feeling trapped. She'd spent her whole life in a cage of one kind or another and she just wanted to taste some freedom. First she'd been contained by the gilded bars of life in the Capitol- a prison so pretty she'd scarcely realised that she was trapped. Her opulent prison had been replaced by a dank hole that damaged her unflappable spirit beyond repair as easily as it broke her body.

She thought she'd finally escaped, free at last, only to be confined by four bland walls.

"I'm sorry, Princess," Haymitch sighed. "Coin is throwing her weight around. She claims that your presence in Thirteen could cause unrest with the former District Twelve citizens." Haymitch made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "Truth be told, she's pissed that Gale ignored her plan and that she got strong armed into keeping you alive. This is the only power play she has left, so she's going to be damn sure she uses it."

Effie sighed. Technically, she supposed this Coin woman had a point- the fact that she was present in Thirteen would almost certainly enrage the families of the children she'd sent to their deaths. She certainly wouldn't blame any one of their grieving family members for spitting in her face. "What do I have to do, Haymitch?" she sank back against the pillow, her eyes closed as her fingers traced the edge of her cast. "What do I have to go through to prove that my loyalty isn't to the Capitol any longer?"

The screech of terror that escaped her lips when Haymitch sat at the end of her bed and placed his hand on her unbroken thigh echoed against the grey walls.

Effie forced the knot out of her throat, reminding herself that it was Haymitch who was touching her. Haymitch, the one who buried his compassionate heart under layers of cynicism and alcohol. Haymitch who remembered how she took her coffee and kissed her just to muss up her lipstick and drive her insane. Haymitch would never hurt her... Certainly not intentionally, at least. She forced her eyes open and looked at Haymitch, trying not to let the concern on his face completely overwhelm her.

She couldn't be idle. She needed a task- something she could focus her attention on instead of the memories that threatened to send her completely mad. "There must be something, Haymitch."

Haymitch's fingers traced circles on her leg. She scanned his face. The hand on her leg belonged to Haymitch, she reminded herself. Dreaming of contact as simple as this was what kept her alive in that prison. She needed to relish this reality.

"There is one thing," Haymitch began softly. His hand stilled. "Dr Aurelius and Primrose Everdeen think they've figured out a way to reverse the hijacking that they managed on Peeta. But before they try, Dr Aurelius claims he needs all possible information he can get his hands on about Peeta's imprisonment. He said that the more information he has, the more chance he has of reversing the hijacking." Haymitch cleared his throat. "He's spoken to Annie and Johanna. They both said that you would be the person to speak to."

Effie felt like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. She relived the hell of captivity every time she closed her eyes. How the hell could she talk about it over tea, like it was nothing more than gossip? "I don't want to talk about what happened to me," she whispered. She felt completely paralysed. The knot in her throat rose and her eyes flickered to the door, waiting for Snow's men to come in, ready to unleash a fresh wave of pain on her broken body and battered spirit.

As if from a distance, she heard someone call her name.

This was just her mind playing tricks on her, she told herself firmly. She began to rattle through a list of things she knew to be true. Her name was Euphemia Trinket. She liked to be called Effie. She was employed as the Escort to the District Twelve Tributes for the Annual Hunger Games. She became a prisoner of the Capitol of Panem for the role she played in the Revolution. She'd been rescued by Gale Hawthorne. Haymitch Abernathy had fought tooth and nail for both her and for Peeta to remain safe. Her knowledge could help Peeta.

She gasped when she felt Haymitch's hands grip her shoulders and shake her.

"What the fuck, Effie?" He growled, moving away from the bed to pace the length of the tiny room. "What just happened?"

"I'm sorry," she wheezed. "I don't know what that was, but I was there. I was back in the Capitol and it was about to begin all over again."

Haymitch silently cursed. It was foolish to think that Effie was going to be able to live through the Capitol's cruelty and come out unscathed. She wasn't like a District citizen. Her exposure to the bitter unfairness of life came as an adult. Her childhood experience of the Hunger Games had been one of excitement, not one that struck fear into the heart of an entire community. She hadn't been formed by terror and that just left her all the more easily destroyed by the Capitol.

Haymitch had responded to his own fear about what they'd done with misplaced anger. "I'm sorry, Princess," he sighed. "I shouldn't have grabbed you. Or yelled."

"It's too real, Haymitch," she whimpered. "I close my eyes and I'm right back in that prison cell. When I realise I'm here, I'm scared that this is all a dream and when I blink, I'll open my eyes and a Peacekeeper will be above me, strapping me back onto that wheel."

She was so tired of crying. It seemed like the second she got herself under control, something else would happen to set her off all over again.

"Tell me how I can help, Princess," Haymitch whispered.

Effie sniffled. "Could you hold me?"

Her former self would have been horrified at letting anybody see her so red eyed and snotty. Effie of the Capitol never would have wiped her nose on her sleeve, or scooted over on her bed to let Haymitch Abernathy of all people sit next to her.

This new Effie just didn't care. She felt the bed dip with Haymitch's solid weight and she curled against his warmth as best she could with her bulky cast. Even without the familiar scent of whiskey clinging to his skin, he smelt of comfort and familiarity and she breathed in the normalcy, willing her world to come back into order. "Does it ever get better?" Effie wondered; her voice muffled by the bland grey shirt Haymitch wore.

He exhaled sharply. He knew that he needed to open up old wounds, but his instincts screamed against it. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. His fingers traced patterns against her shoulder blade. He hated sharing his story with a blind passion, but if he could help Effie, he needed to try, no matter the cost to him. "After I returned home from the Quarter Quell, it was like walking on a cloud. I had nightmares, sure, but every Victor I got the chance to speak to in the Capitol promised me they'd fade with time, and told me that I should enjoy the freedom I'd won myself and not to dwell on the cost."

"What else could you do?" Effie asked.

"Let me tell the story, Sweetheart," he requested. He needed to get it out all at once. Effie needed to keep her compassion for herself, not waste it on him. If she tried to comfort him as he spoke, he'd never finish his tale. "I left for the Victory Tour and I came home to find my entire family dead," he revealed. "Everybody I'd ever cared about were murdered in their beds. My parents. My irritating little sister. My baby brother," his voice hitched, "my girl. All dead and all because I'd been fool enough to use the Capitol's war machine against them. They'd never expected a District kid to outsmart them and the people I loved paid the price."

He felt Effie shudder against his chest.

"The nightmares got worse after that. There was never an official cause of death, so my imagination filled in the blanks," he cleared his throat. This wasn't supposed to be making him feel better. This was to help the damaged woman who was insane enough to find comfort in his embrace begin walking the path to closure. "It's a slippery slope, Effie. It used to just be a drink before bed. A little prescription from Doctor Ripper to help me sleep. Then one was enough and I needed another… and another. Liquid courage before a Reaping. A drink in memory of every Tribute I failed. Before I knew it, I needed a drink to get out of bed, get dressed and put together a façade of living some kind of life," he brushed his lips against Effie's forehead. "I never intended to become the man I am today. I didn't want to be like this, but here I am. And I don't want to see you, or Peeta or Katniss turn out like me, because I'm a shitty excuse for a human."

"I wouldn't go that far," Effie responded.

"I don't need you to sugar coat my actions Sweetheart. I'm an addict and because of that I've let kids die."

Despite the obvious self-loathing and deprecation, Effie wasn't horrified. If it was possible, she curled closer to him, her head nestled at the juncture of his shoulder and throat. "Withdrawal must have been awful for you," she commented simply.

"Beyond the physical discomfort of it all, it was the first time in twenty five years I actually experienced the reality of my shitty decisions," he replied. "Don't be like me, Princess," he implored her. "Don't hold your pain in until you have to find something to numb it. You deserve a better life than that."

"So does Peeta," Effie agreed after a moment of silence. "Haymitch, you've been taking care of Katniss, haven't you?" She asked.

"From the second I was capable of it," He replied. Haymitch had been friends with Katniss's father since he was four years old, and he'd felt the heaviness of obligation to keep his friend's daughter alive in the Arena. Now the kid felt as good as family. "She hasn't made it easy. She's almost determined to self destruct."

Effie sighed. She wasn't surprised that Katniss would cast herself in the role of a martyr.

"I need to look after Peeta," Effie decided. "If it will help him, I'll speak to Dr Aurelius." She almost smiled when she felt Haymitch's lips brush against her forehead in silent thanks. "But I don't want to talk about what they did to me," she added hastily. "I'm not ready."

"Okay," Haymitch agreed instantly. He was certainly in no position to push Effie into speaking about her trauma. He never had. Speaking about things made them real and he'd avoided reality for more than half his life. Effie could surely have a few weeks.

"I don't want you with me when I do it," Effie added. "I can't be worried about breaking your heart like mine is."

Those words shattered Haymitch more than he'd ever thought possible. Nobody had ever bothered to spare him pain before. Then Effie had come along in her silk and wigs… he never would have imagined that this Capitol darling would ever work her way into his heart and be prepared to defend his secrets no matter the personal cost.

He was only just learning how to support another human and the idea that the best thing he could do for her was to not do anything was confronting, to say the least. "Okay," he agreed finally. "I'll be right outside though. If you need me, just scream."

Effie nodded. "I'll speak to him tomorrow."


Her stomach was churning so powerfully that she'd been unable to so much look at her breakfast, shoving the tray towards Haymitch without a word. He didn't seem to be in a much better place than her, the tremor in his hand revealing just how badly he wanted to be drinking whiskey instead of milk.

He'd come to see Effie in the middle of the night, dragged down to the hospital wing when it was revealed that Katniss had been shot in District two and needed surgery.

Effie had barely managed an hour of sleep that night.

There was a knock at the door. Dr Aurelius had arrived.

"Go be with the children," Effie suggested stiffly, her frame rigid.

"Princess," Haymitch began, ready to protest the idea of leaving her alone.

"Darling, please," she begged. "I need to do this on my own."

The fear was raw in her blue eyes, but Haymitch relented none the less. He really could deny her nothing. "Fine," he replied. He brushed a kiss to her temple. "But I'll be close enough to hear you if you need me."

He strode out the door, not even acknowledging the good Doctor as he walked into the room.

"Dr Aurelius," Effie greeted him, her heart caught in her throat. "Please, come in," she gestured to the seat that Haymitch had claimed as his own, pulled up next to the bed.

She cleared her throat. "Usually I'd offer you a beverage of your choosing, but that doesn't seem to be the usual etiquette in District Thirteen," Effie spouted. She was aware that she was rambling and she longed for the familiarity of Capitol customs for when a guest visited. She finally managed to force herself to stop rambling and instead chewed nervously on her lip, almost managing to split open the healing wound there.

"I appreciate your hospitality none the less," Dr Aurelius replied soothingly. He regarded Effie calmly; content not to push her to open up too quickly. "Thank you for agreeing to speak to me," he began. "Many of my patients seem content for me to use their time to catch up on naps."

"It sounds like you've been spending some time with Katniss Everdeen," Effie replied, scratching the skin at the top of her cast. "Can we just discuss what you need to know?" She asked. "I assume you've been informed that I'm only willing to discuss Peeta Mellark?"

Dr Aurelius nodded. He'd read Effie's charts. He was well aware of the trauma she'd undergone and he hoped the time would come when he could at least try to help her. "Just tell me whatever you're comfortable telling me," he spoke gently, trying not to corner her, instead trying to gently coax her into sharing what she knew.

Effie ran her hand over her fuzzy hair, clearing her throat. "They never touched him," she began. "I suppose they knew that he would be the most valuable in terms of spreading propaganda, so he was always treated with kid gloves."

Effie observed that Dr Aurelius was making notes, so she paused and watched him scrawl. "What do you remember of how they treated him during his imprisonment?" He asked.

"He was always fed better than the rest of us," Effie commented. "I guess I was the first to notice that because a Capitol bitch like me doesn't know what it's like to go hungry." That had been the least of the insults she'd heard thrown at her. They all lived under her skin now like a veritable set of armour. Words like that couldn't be used against her any longer. "His cell was between mine and Johanna's. He attempted to slip us both pieces of fruit from the food they gave him. When he was caught, he got to watch us both be shocked for what had to be an hour before they shaved our heads."

"Why do you think they treated Peeta differently?" Dr Aurelius asked, putting down his pen to stare intently at Effie.

Effie pondered the question. "I suppose he still had value to them," she decided finally. "The people of the Capitol loved he and Katniss. They could make him their hero to her villain. He's such a brilliant speaker that if they had him onside, he could pacify the masses," she sighed. "And I suppose they knew that he could suffer pain. For most of his time in the Arena during his first Games his leg was hacked open and he endured that and lived to tell the tale, still the charming young man he always was. I don't think putting him through physical pain would be the best way to torture him."

"So by putting the people he cared about in pain, he was more likely to fall into line?" Dr Aurelius confirmed.

Effie wiped away the tear that tracked down her cheek. "I think that's what they hoped," she answered. "But none of us ever broke, so he had no excuse to."

"One day, Effie, I'd like to talk to you about your experiences," Dr Aurelius began. He saw the horrified look on her face. "But we don't have to do that today,"

"Good," Effie squeaked in response. She wasn't ready to face her demons yet.

"We're still trying to establish a time line for when they began the Hijacking procedure on Peeta, and we still don't know a terrible amount about it. Did you notice any changes in his behaviour?"

"It took a lot to have him finally agree to appear on television," Effie replied. She shuddered. She didn't think she'd ever forget the smell of burned flesh or the sound of Johanna's screams echoing around the prison quarters. "But I remember the night that he did because we all got a hot meal for the first time in weeks," Effie scoffed. "It wasn't until after I ate that I was informed that I would be responsible for planning his TV interview,"

"Were there consequences if you didn't?" Dr Aurelius interjected.

Effie sniffled. "I suppose," she responded. "There were consequences for everything and I was just so tired and I didn't want to hurt anymore and I thought that if I just agreed to do it I might spare myself some pain, if only because they couldn't have me around Capitol citizens beaten black and blue." She began to fidget with the blanket on the bed, her nails still too damaged for her to even try to bite. "I was the last to see Peeta before he went on. I was adjusting his lapel when he grabbed my hands and told me that he had a plan and that he was going to find a way to make sure Katniss didn't suffer like we did."

"And then he went on stage and tried to defend Katniss's role in the Rebellion before calling for a ceasefire," Dr Aurelius filled in the details. "I saw the interview," he informed Effie.

"It was assumed that I'd put him up to it," Effie revealed. "And I paid the price dearly for Peeta's failure to just stick to the script. President Snow made sure of it, personally." A shudder wracked her frame. If she stayed quiet for long enough, she could still feel his hands on her body… she wasn't sure that they'd ever go away. "I held Peeta for hours that night," Effie recalled. "He kept apologising, saying that he shouldn't have done it. But I'm proud that they hadn't managed to break him yet."

"Ms Trinket, I have to ask, did you see them Hijack Peeta?" Dr Aurelius asked.

Effie shook her head. "No," she replied softly. "We were still asleep when they dragged him out of his cell. I was hysterical. They hadn't so much as touched him and I was terrified that they'd been holding back, just waiting to destroy him in ways we'd never imagined."

"It sounds like they succeeded," Dr Aurelius commented.

"He used to come back an absolute mess," Effie recalled. She wasn't sure if she was a fan of the good doctor's bedside manner, or lack thereof. "He'd be shivering and shaking and he had no idea where he was or how to differentiate between what was real and what wasn't. Our beds shared the same wall of the cell, so I used to reach between and hold his hands as he came down from whatever they were doing to him," she looked over at Dr Aurelius, ready for his accusations. "What else was I supposed to do?" She demanded.

"You couldn't do anything, Effie," he replied. "You were a prisoner too."

Effie huffed out a sigh, a shadow of her former self. They were so close to the end. "They dragged him away every day. The Peacekeepers kept having their fun with the rest of us. It was like we were in a vacuum. Then the Rebels came to save us."

"Do you think your presence made a difference after Peeta's torture session?" Dr Aurelius asked.

Effie shrugged. "I always hoped it did. But one day, they brought him back and I was still strapped to that wheel," her shoulders ached at the memory. She was sure she'd done damage to the ligaments and she dimly worried if it would be permanent. "The Peacekeepers wanted to see how long I'd last on there," she explained. "Peeta came back, sobbing, as he usually was after one of their sessions. I soothed him as best I could from across the room, but he was inconsolable. He kept crying, saying that he needed an anchor. I passed in and out of consciousness for what could have been days. They could have done anything to Peeta in that time. The next thing I knew for certain was Haymitch Abernathy cutting me from the wheel, promising I was safe."

She noticed that Dr Aurelius seemed to underline those words in his notes. "Effie, would you be willing to be a part of Peeta's treatment?" Dr Aurelius asked. "He seems to trust you more than anybody else here and believe me, that could be incredibly useful to his therapy."

Peeta needed her. She'd sworn to protect him. "Anything is better than sitting in here all day," she replied.

Dr Aurelius gathered his notes and walked to the door. "When you're ready, Effie, my door is open for you," he reminded her.

She managed her first genuine smile since she arrived at District Thirteen. "Thank you, Doctor," she replied. "I'll remember that."


Haymitch had taken up a silent vigil at Katniss's bedside, vaguely considering whether or not he should have an earpiece surgically inserted into her head. He didn't understand how she managed to consistently injure herself any time she was allowed out of the confines of District Thirteen. He shivered. This was far too close a call.

He barely turned when he heard somebody sit down next to him. "How is she?" Johanna asked.

He shrugged. "Impact of the bullet damaged her spleen. They had to yank it out. I'm told she'll live," he sighed. "If she stops acting like a big damn hero."

"That's good," Johanna replied. She sat in silence for a few moments. "How's Effie?" she questioned.

Haymitch raised an eyebrow. Johanna Mason was the last person he would have expected to give a rat's ass about an Escort. "Hey, we had our heads shaved together. We're practically BFFs," Johanna attempted the frivolous accent of a Capitol woman before giving a mirthless laugh.

Haymitch didn't answer.

"Seriously," Johanna poked him. "Your girlfriend better be okay or I'll tear Coin's head off myself."

"Why do you care?" Haymitch asked. He couldn't give a fuck if he was being overly harsh. He could barely get his head around his tumultuous relationship with Effie, let alone attempt to justify it to anybody else.

"We all would have given in if it weren't for her," Johanna admitted. "I didn't know what the hell she was doing with us. There was no way that some Capitol rat could ever be on our side. But she was… and she was too damn stubborn for me to ever consider giving in. If some princess who'd never known pain could stand what they did to her, what right did I have to cower?"

"What did they do to her?" Haymitch asked. He refused to look at her file and he certainly wasn't about to ask Effie, but his imagination was proving quite effective at filling in the gaps.

"Haymitch," Johanna practically rolled her eyes at him. "She came here stark naked, strapped spread eagle on a giant wheel. What do you think they did to her?"

She didn't miss the way that Haymitch's hands clenched into fists at the implication of her words. Johanna put her hands over one of his. "Haymitch, don't be a dumbass," she snapped. "Trashing the fine facilities here isn't going to change anything," she spotted Dr Aurelius walking through the hallways of the hospital. "Go and be with her. I'll take care of Katniss."

Haymitch stood up. He didn't know when the kid had gotten so wise, but he figured he should probably listen. "You just want to tap into Katniss's morphling supply," he asserted.

Johanna looked up at him from where she sat and shrugged. "Takes an addict to know an addict," she replied.


I'd love to hear your thoughts... especially on the one and only Ms Mason. The next chapter should feature some bonding between her and Effie, if you're at all interested :)

Come and play! I'm brookemopolitan on twitter and tumblr :)