A/N: OMG I am sorry I missed upload last week, I had a load of college shit to sort out. But now I am back and ready to cause Hayffie feels 3:) Anyway, hope you enjoy! xo

Haymitch's POV

I keep falling in love with you and each time is harder than the last. Every time the feeling gets deeper, more complete, more bewitching. And every time it hurts more than I ever thought possible. I shouldn't love you, it was your people who tore my life and my family apart...But I can't help staring at your pretty little face, and I will even go to the extent of making shitty jokes in order to hear your laugh, because when you laugh, a little bit of light shines through the darkness of my life; A light that only you can give to me.

I hate and despise you. You are a product of everything I hate most about the world, and I will do absolutely anything to keep you always safe. I'd devote myself to you. I'd give my life to you. Because in the end, you are all that matters to me now.

My Effie, my sweet Effie.

I carry on kissing her until the need for air causes us both to break away, flushed and slightly breathless as we stare at each other. Not knowing what else to do, (and anyway, what the fuck can you say after random kissing sessions?) I smirk, pushing a stand of my dark hair out of my eyes. "So, uh.. I guess-"

"Why are you here?" She cuts me off and I close my mouth for a bit as I study her face, trying to work out her game here. So one minute we're lovers, the next we're... What, acquaintances? She carries on watching my face expectantly, her eyes more serious and honestly, that look would fool anyone into thinking we were two friends having a normal conversation.

"I.." I start, but can't come up with a proper answer.

"Yes?" She purses her lips and narrows her eyes, and I'm taken straight back to when she tried to make me sober up, but I'd had other ideas and had gone to the bar with Chaff. And me being me, I had to pretend to be sober.

Her being her, she'd seen right through it before I'd started talking.

And not that I'd admit it to her, but I hate seeing her disappointed look. Her anger always used to make me smile, especially seeing as she tried to make herself sound more threatening but failed miserably half the time. No, it was that sad look in her eye, and the way she sighed "Haymitch..." in that special tone of voice that always got me apologising profusely, even if it was something insignificant.

I hang my head and scuff at the floor with my boot, wishing she'd have asked anything but that.

"Haymitch, you can tell me." I'm not looking at her, but I can feel her eyes on me. Searching for some sort of answer. She mustn't find anything useful, because I suddenly feel her warmth and her hands cupping both my cheeks. I lift my head and meet her gaze, while she strokes the soft skin around my jaw with her dainty thumbs. "I won't bite.." She whispers this time, and now there's a hint of a smile on her face.

I feel safer, and admittedly, no one can make me feel so threatened but so damn secure at the same time. "I.. I missed you. And I need you safe. With.. With me." I get out, even though my mouth feels like sandpaper and my tongue feels like a block of concrete sticking to the walls of my cheeks.

She blinks and lets go and for one sick second, I think she'll laugh and push me out of the flat, but instead she just eyes me, then hugs me.

"I've missed you too, Haymitch, but it's really not safe for you here, and I can't leave. I've got nowhere to go.."

"Yeah, you have. You can come to my place. I'd be glad for the company, if I'm honest." I reassure her, holding her soft form to my own. I hear her sigh and I've known her long enough to notice that that sound was relief.

"Thank you. Oh, Haymitch, thank you." She mumbles into my shirt and I find myself smiling, even though I can tell already she's got some kind of drinking problem that I'll have to deal with. I'm not complaining, it's just she comes out of this worse off, what with the withdrawal, the hallucinations, the nausea, the fits.. But I know that if I could take it for her, I would. That thought scares me a little. I barely know her now, and I'm willing to do almost anything for her..

I shake myself and smile. "Want a drink, sweetheart?"

Seemingly gathering what remains of her composure, she pulls back from me and nods. "Coffee would be brilliant, thank you."

I grin reassuringly and pad from the room to the dingy little kitchen, my nose wrinkling a little at the state of the place. There's dirty dishes piled up by the sink, the oven is covered in grease and grime, and worst of all, the whole place gives off an eye watering stench of mould and decay that would send even the bravest of cleaners running home.

Shuddering a little, I fill the kettle and set it to boil, while I manage to find a clean mug and a jar of coffee granules.

A soft Effie squeak from the living room reaches my ears, and I'm suddenly swamped with a feeling of impending danger. "Effie?" I call, my own voice sounding a little strained to my ears.

"Yes?" Comes her prompt response, and I know for sure something's not right. Her voice is shaking and she sounds a little too happy for it to be genuine.

Blood pounding through my body and every muscle tensed and ready for attack, I silently move back to the living room, thankful for once for the threadbare carpet muffling my soft footfalls. I hear her squeak again and it's more urgent. Something about it sends shivers down my spine and oh my God, why the fuck didn't we go up to her place while we had the chance?

A fist clamped around the handle of my knife, I peer round the corner and what I see makes my blood run cold.

A man in what I presume to be his late thirties is holding Effie to him, his dark eyes on Effie as he whispers something to her. I don't even have to ask this man's name. I already know it's Dean, the one who claimed Effie as his toy when his girlfriend was away, and presumably the main source of Effie's booze.

Oh, shit.

I bite my lip, wondering what the hell I do, when I see Effie's face contort a little. He's hurting her. I think, a flare of white hot anger shooting through me as I watch them both.

"Let her go!" My voice echoes around the room before I'm aware I've even spoken, and my legs are moving me right into the view of his cold, dead eyes.

The man grins. "Ah, Haymitch Abernathy. Famous District drunkard. You know, I was wondering how long it'd take you to come back for this pretty little thing." His voice makes my lip curl and all I want to do is knock his teeth down his throat for touching my girl.

"Sober, actually. And proud of it." I growl, ready to throw my knife right through his skull. "You got five seconds to let her go, before your blood ends up giving this shitty flat an impromptu paint job."

Instead of backing off like any sane person would do, he bares his yellow teeth at me in a feral, almost insane grin. "That's not going to happen. You see, I'm the one who could snap your girlfriend's neck in seconds and it would mean nothing to me. And no one else would care but you. So, I think I have a little bit more time than five seconds, don't you?" His speech is slow and deliberate, like he's thinking carefully about every word as he says it. Frankly, that just annoys me more.

I'm just about to open my mouth again with a snide remark, when he draws something out of his pocket and holds it to Effie, and the words die in my throat.

He's got a gun.

And he's aiming right at my Effie's head.