Requested by anon: Hey, could you please please with cherries on top write something around this whole 'Haymitch in the arena, and the Jabberjays are Effie screaming' thing that's going around. I need it like, really really bad!

There is a headcanon on tumblr that if the position was reversed and it was Haymitch in the arena, the jabberjays would mimick Effie's voice.

For the umpteenth time, Haymitch Abernathy cursed Plutarch Heavensbee and seven of his generations to come. The traps in the arena were vicious and brutal, and he wondered, not for the first time how the Gamemakers came up with them year after year. Was this the kind of subject that formed part of their syllable in a typical Capitol school – the most gruesome way to kill a human? Are these the sort of creativity that was encouraged from Capitol children, a kind of art form?

A fucking spinning Cornucopia – damn you to hell, Plutarch, he swore, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

A flying axe had nicked his eyebrow resulting in a nice, bleeding scar as he and Finnick held on to what they could. He was particularly irritated upon discovering that Katniss had fell off, submerged under water because then everything they were working for would be lost.

Trudging up the beach with his suit soaking wet and his wound stinging from the sea water, he wanted nothing more than for the Games to end as quickly as possible. Either he get out with the rest of the victors and the Mockingjay when Plutarch extract them or he dies trying to protect Katniss. Whichever way, he'd be out of this dome-shaped hell.

Weary to the bones and mentally exhausted, Haymitch leaned against the branch of a tree, his boots digging into the sands as he listened to Johanna, Finnick, Beetee and Katniss discuss the best way forward with two careers still a threat to them and Chaff still out somewhere in the arena.

Chaff, he turned his thoughts towards his friend. Chaff was supposed to have joined the alliance but the arena had separated them and unlike Johanna, Beetee and Wiress, their paths did not cross. Haymitch was concerned, naturally. There was a likelihood that he would be left behind (if he was still alive at the point) when the hovercraft arrived, since in all probability, time is of the essence when they're trying to escape the Capitol and if he was nowhere near in proximity with Katniss, Plutarch would not waste his time searching for Chaff.

Their conversation stopped abruptly before Katniss' face morphed into one of terror. "Prim!"

The knife he had been twisting in his hand fell from his grasp when he staggered back in surprise as Katniss barrelled past him into the thick forest. He swore loudly and the time it took for him to pick the knife up, Finnick was already pursuing Katniss.

In the distance, he could hear another voice screaming for Finnick and the flapping of multiple wings up in the air. He caught up with them just as a black bird fell from the ground with Katniss' arrow pierced through its breast. He connected it all – the birds and the voices – and knew what was in this sector of the arena.

"Those are Jabberjays!" he shouted, grabbing Finnick by the shoulder and spinning him around. "It's not Annie!"

"It's not her," Katniss nodded, letting another arrow fly from her bow.

"How do you think they got that sound? Jabberjays copy," said Finnick, looking at Katniss earnestly, his eyes pleading with her to understand why he was panicking.

"No, listen to me, Finnick! It's not-" Haymitch began to explain but a huge flock of them had arrived, carrying the piercing, terrible screams of those Finnick and Katniss deemed important in their lives.

There were too many of them and Katniss would never get them all. Even as one fell, another bird took its place. It's a useless fight, one they cannot hope to win with weapons. The only way is to run. Haymitch began pushing them forward, running and stumbling back towards the opening of the forests, back from where they came.

Haymitch brought up the rear, shouting after them to ignore the screaming - that it was fabricated, that they're safe in the districts, that this was a mind game – until he heard it. Emitting from the beaks of those black birds were the dying screams of his mother and his brother; the pleas that escaped their lips while they were tortured, the last words they screamed before they die.

"Please stop," his mother's voice pleaded. "Haymitch please, make it stop. HELP ME!"

"Haymitch! Haymitch! It hurts," the childlike voice of his brother mingled together with those of Prim and Gale and Annie.

Finnick and Katniss stopped running when they sensed that he had stop. They turned around and stared at him, looking at him in a mix of confusion and fear at the voices of people they've never met. He clenched his jaws, suppressing the sickness he felt at the cruelty of the Capitol.

"Keep running," he hissed.

Those voices had been echoing in his mind every day for the past 24 years. It was hardly anything new to him. It hurts, of course, but it proved one thing that he was already aware of. The whole section of this arena was a form of psychological torture. His family are not in danger. They're dead and that knowledge spurred him forward.

The screaming grew louder, intensified to a point that made his ears hurt. He could no longer discern when one screaming began and the other end as it swell into a cacophony of mutated, terrible crescendo.

They were close to the edge. He could see Johanna and Beetee pacing not far from where they were. Beetee stared at him, his face a mask of pity and Johanna's eyes glint with anger and hatred. She laid her palm flat on the air in front of her and when something shimmered, he knew what she was trying to tell him. They were trapped.

Finnick collided into the invisible wall and the comprehension dawn on his face. He went down first, dropping to his knees with his hands clamped over his ears. Haymitch grabbed his arm and tried to heave him to his feet, half dragging that young man across the forest floor. To where? Where do we go?

Seeing the state Finnick was in, Katniss followed suit, already realising the situation they were in. She curled into a ball, screaming and screaming just to drown her sister's cry for help.

Haymitch plunged his knife into the wall over and over again even when he realised on his first attempt that the wall was indestructible. Johanna was saying something but he couldn't hear her at all. He crouched next to Katniss, stroking her hair in what he hope would provide some semblance of comfort. Haymitch put his mouth close to her ears, tried to pry her fingers away and told her repeatedly that it wasn't real.

"Trust me, Katniss. Look at me! It's all a lie. Prim and Hawthorne are safe! I would know. It's just a recording, sweetheart. They're playing the recording of my family's death! This isn't real, it's the Capitol-"

"HAYMITCH!"

He froze, his fingers curling into Katniss' hair. His breath caught in his throat at the sudden terror he felt.

"HAY…. HAYMITCH!"

He stiffened and staggered back, eyes open wide in horror as he stared up at the birds circling him.

"HELP ME! Please," it trailed to a whimper.

"Effie," his voice coming out in a wisp of disbelief and alarm, hardly discernible amongst all the noise the birds made. The fear gripped his heart and wormed its way up, poisoning his mind, distorting his thoughts.

No, he breathed. Not her. Not Effie

Jabberjays copy¸ was what Finnick had said and suddenly he understood. The terror rolled over him and embraced him. He could feel it seeping through his skin and into his bones, weighing him down like tones of bricks and paralyzing him. The images of his mother's bleeding, broken body was replaced by Effie's and he felt the same sense of helplessness like he did when he was sixteen. He never thought he could feel this much fear for the escort.

"Stop this!" he screamed. He wasn't defenseless this time. He could fight, he told himself. Haymitch spun around, wildly slashing the air in the hopes that his knife would hit a mark. The Jabberjays flew just out of his reach, circling and mocking him. "EFFIE! Effie! Don't – Not her! Not again. Not again."

Katniss was still screaming, her voice was becoming hoarse. Finnick was moaning with his eyes shut. Haymitch wasn't sure how long he could keep on fighting.

"NO!" he shouted, pounding against the invisible wall, eyes pleading with Johanna or Beetee to get him out. "She's just Effie. She's just an escort. Leave her! Stop… Stop…"

Haymitch was starting to lose his voice and he knew his hand would bruise from the trauma he put it through. He could feel the last vestige of his energy draining out and leaving his body. He slid against the invisible wall, boneless and tired, drawing his knees up to press his head in between them.

"Not real," he chanted like a mantra, trying to hold on to his last bit of sanity. "Safe. Safe. Safe."

Time should be at the forefront of his mind since the Jabberjays would stop after an hour but it became inconsequential as he forced himself to believe that Effie was at the moment safe at the Games Headquarters; that he was driving her up the wall with worry breaking apart like that when he was supposed to be there for Katniss. That thought was sufficient enough to break through the fog in his mind and he came to a startling understanding.

What if this had been a test?

The Capitol were using people of importance to the Victors, people they love and would protect – Prim, Gale, Annie. He has no one. The only people the Capitol could use against him were dead, having claimed that right years ago and the threat had long since expired. They didn't even bother to use his girl's voice because Haymitch would not have fallen for it just like how he had not fallen for his mother's and brother's tortured scream. But for years now, there was someone he frequently came in contact with, granted it was only for several weeks in a year but it was still more than any other human interaction he ever had, and that person was Effie Trinket. Now they knew just by studying the way he had reacted to her voice that no matter the nature of his relationship with her, the idea of her in danger would still affect him on a certain level; that she is of some significance to him.

He might as well have condemned her.

XxX

Horror. Despair. Hopelessness. Confusion.

Those emotions chased one after another as Effie stood rooted to the ground watching Haymitch unraveled at the sound of her fabricated, manipulated scream of terror. When her screams were first introduced in the Games by those wretched beasts, Effie thought there had been a mistake. There was no way Haymitch would be affected by that but, oh, she was so gravely mistaken.

Heads swiveled in her direction from escorts, mentors and sponsors alike, looking at her suspiciously or with uncertainty. It was a twist in the Games, something they were not expecting.

Are they really using Effie Trinket's voice? How could this be?

Why her? Is there something going on between them?

She ignored their whispers and their stares, and managed to drag Peeta from the Games Headquarters back to their Penthouse, escaping the crowd in search of privacy. It felt wrong to have her anguish and Peeta's grief a subject of scrutinization at the Headquarters.

Effie watched the events unfold, her hands wringing together, biting her nails and pacing the floor listlessly. She gave him words of encouragement under her breath, useless as it was as Haymitch tried to fight off the Jabberjays before it proved too much even for him.

"I'm here," she whispered, voice shaking with despair. "I'm safe, Haymitch. I'm safe with Peeta."

Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes as she finally, finally realised that she meant something to Haymitch. Despite the insults and the jibes, and the how they never could agree on anything, she was someone in his eyes, someone important enough for the Capitol to turn into a weapon.

She needed him to make it out of the arena alive with Katniss. She needed him to survive because if he were to die now that she finally realised all of these, Effie wasn't sure could continue at all.

Effie pressed herself so close to the screen, her fingers grazing the top of Haymitch's head as he tried to drown everything out.

XxX

His arm throbbed from where he had plunged the knife to remove his tracker. The warm and crimson blood dripped steadily down his arm, marring the polish floor of the hovercraft. He was on his knees, exhausted and covered in grime but he's done what he needed to do. Katniss is safe.

He could hardly speak when he saw Plutarch, out of breath and aching everywhere. His eyes scanned the hovercraft for Effie and Peeta and when he couldn't find them, he rounded on Plutarch.

"Where are they?"

He held Plutarch's gaze, unwavering and defiant.

"They were intercepted while trying to get out. They didn't make it, I'm sorry. They're at the Capitol."

Silence ringed in his ears and he was acutely aware that he had stopped breathing for a moment. He stared hard at Plutarch, lips pressed together grimly. His panic mind began to conjure up images of torture and the screams of the Jabberjays could very well be real for him now.

His hand itched for the knife he lost in the arena when they got him out. He yanked his arm free from the medic that was attending to him, standing forcefully on his feet. His eyes were wild and manic; the same fear he had in the arena had now taken a permanent residence in the centre of his chest.

He wanted to be angry with Plutarch but that would be unfair. He knew that what they were doing involved the element of risks. Haymitch slumped in his chair in defeat, the feeling of desolation clawed and gripped on to his very soul. He heard her screams when he closed his eyes but he knew what he must do. This time there was a way for him to fight back instead of watching hopelessly as someone he cares about die. He would get Effie and Peeta out if that was the last thing he'll do.

"I need a drink. Get me a drink."

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