An enormous thank you to All For Jesus, XmadlyinloveX, Minerva-Amantine, NaomiBlue, SassMonster, swimmadarling11, HogwartsDreamer113, katiee, Savysnape7, Clara Meliza, kelliejo19, Gdreams, pinkish-red hearts, The Hunger Games-My Life, Deadlyrose70, grumpirah, BfHGsiriusluver, reppad98, homicidalhufflepuffs, blueskyblues, sportygirl23, Susie98d, Right Hand Blue, MayFairy, CloveLudwig99, kitty4600, Cometas Por El Cielo, DrGiggles, Abby and Liv Snigglebottom, ShortySC22, ErinAbernathy, NintenGirl2002, Balleka, Someone, Alice, BehindTheMask4319068, lovingtheboywiththebread, and Anarchy Girl for your incredible, always inspiring feedback comments for last chapter. Also, much gratitude to those who followed, alerted, favorited and did art as well! Ooh, quickly before I begin, one thing to clarify as I did receive a few questions on this-no, I have not read Divergent yet (but plan to). I simply chose the name "Tobias" off of my friend's theatre tee-shirt she decided to wear to class haha. Now, without further ado, here is the next chapter.
Chapter thirty three: Requests of Discord
"Ms. Trinket, how would you like to become a rebel?"
The question is simple. A statement that even an imbecile has the brain capacity to comprehend. An inquiry that can easily be confirmed with a mere muttering of the words 'yes' or 'no'. Yet, no reply of that nature finds my tongue as I stare dumbfounded at the figure sitting but inches from me. For first impressions, this instance is surely doing me no justice as Coin's expression remains firm, unbinding to friendliness.
"Pardon me?" The words falter as they escape from my lips. "I'm not sure if I fully understand…"
"You are or—as I would so hope now—were a citizen of the Capitol, were you not, Ms. Trinket?" Coin questions, hands folded in her lap. "You can understand my concerns of where your loyalty lies, can't you?"
It's as if my lack of a definite response has triggered some sort of sudden interrogational session. Coin sits up straighter in her chair, eyes locked on me as one might expect a predator to do to its prey. My blood runs cold; my heart pounding against my already bruised ribcage as I search desperately in the back of my mind for some statement that would be acceptable to whatever standards this woman now holds towards me. Had she been the reason Hazelle was so frantic to return to her duties? Suddenly I find myself feeling as if I'm trapped once more in the windowless room of the prison where the strong scent of rose still lingers like a phantom with me after all this time.
It's only when Olive makes a tiny noise against my chest that I'm pulled from the torrent of thoughts now swirl in my head. I shift her awkwardly, uncomfortable even more so than previously with the president's ever watchful gaze fixated on me as if nothing can break her from this trance. My mouth opens, some slur of nonsense slipping from it that even I as the speaker do not understand. I am in no state to deal with such a meeting as this, but my comfort seems to be the last of importance on Coin's mind as her chest rises with what I am sure is a breath of displeasure.
"Well, Ms. Trinket, am I being unreasonable or are my questions acceptable?" Her fingers lace tightly together as if she is restraining herself from going further. "I don't think they are that difficult to reply to."
"I—" I begin, feeling utterly ridiculous for my unexpected lose of impromptu speaking. "Yes, I am a citizen of the Capitol, but I…I don't feel I…"
"She should be the least of your worries, President Coin," a voice cuts in. To my surprise, Haymitch has come to the edge of my bed and now leans against the end rail with a look of undiluted annoyance. "I've known Effie for years," he continues, "and saw no danger in any of her actions. Yes, she is one for following laws whether they be from the Capitol or wherever but a spy of the Capitol? The woman can't be secretive if she tried."
Coin is silent for a moment. "So, I should be more concerned of what slips from her mouth accidentally, is that it then, Mr. Abernathy?"
Haymitch's jaw unmistakably clenches followed by an expression that I cannot distinguish from guilt or anger. "That's not what I was getting at," he finally says, emphasis seemingly placed on each syllable. "I only meant was—"
"What you may have meant and what it came out, are two completely different things, Mr. Abernathy," Coin says nonchalantly. "Nevertheless, I thank you for bringing forth that possibility of information leakage to my mind. It will determine Ms. Trinket's part in all things if this interview goes as planned."
There were very few times that I have the ability to count on fingers of when Haymitch Abernathy's patience was truly tested. Normally, his outlook on most aspects seemed to be mild to moderate annoyance. But from the way his brow furrows and his stature tenses as his eyes meet President Coin's, I know now that this is not one of those times of slight perturbation. However, though Haymitch's cool seems near to being lost, there is no sign of aggression nor agitation in Coin's features as she turns to me once again seemingly oblivious to the tension that slowly rises in the room.
"I mean no disrespect to you in the slightest, Ms. Trinket," she says. "As the highest authoritative figure in this district, I merely am just concerned for the safety and wellbeing of my citizens. Think of it as a job requirement rather than a choice. I'm sure you are harmless. Really, I do. But without proper records or verification...no one can be absolutely sure now a days."
Cooperation. Whether I agree with her or not, I have to show that I am no threat. Submissiveness, though at times is not appropriate, is far more successful than arguing. The corners of my lips twitch in protest as I force myself to smile at Coin, whom does not share a similar gesture.
"No," I say. "It's very reasonable of you to be concerned about me due to my previous history." I don't need to look over at Haymitch to know he's glaring at me now. However I ignore this and continue, not bothering to ponder upon what curses he's spewing about me mentally. "I am willing to do anything you ask to prove my allegiance to you. I am, after all, grateful you saved me and my child."
Coin nods, seeming to consider this for a moment. "I believe you, Ms. Trinket," she says after a long minute of pause. "But I cannot say the same about others who reside here. They are a little less forgiving than I."
I nod in return, "I can understand their hesitation."
"So, you do see where I'm coming from?"
Another nod of affirmation.
"Now we're getting somewhere."
She stands from her seat, stepping mindfully around Haymitch's leg which he has casual stretched out for reasons, I'm sure, are other than comfort. Hands twisted behind her back in such a way it appears painful, she begins to pace in a straight line, heels clicking methodically against the floor.
"I'd like to revisit the rebel question if we could, Ms. Trinket," she says without her strides faltering. "I have an idea for an approach for you, but it may hold some challenges. Nothing too difficult, but all plans have slight disturbances in the flow of things."
I'm beginning to regret informing her of my willingness to comply to her demands as her pacing increases, her image giving the impression she is deep in thought. For the first time since he spoke out, I look to Haymitch. He, in turn, stares back at me with a look of disapproval and frustration. Perhaps it was I who had spoken out of turn instead of him to Coin.
"I'll have to speak to Plutarch and Fluvia firstly before anything is concrete, but I can see them being more than willing to do a segment on you. After all, the focus is to show other districts the means behind the rebellion. Your story would be all too perfect for that, especially with you being an ex Capitol citizen," says Coin.
"Segment? Story?"
I'm unable to mask the slight raise in my tone as confusion rushes over me about Coin's idea. What had she in mind and what part did Plutarch, the man whom I had known as merely the Gamemaker until a few moments ago, have in it? Out of the corner of my eye, I see Haymitch's expression has morphed from frustration to unspoken fury in a matter of seconds. What did he know that I did not?
"Propaganda is the most power form of weaponry during wartimes, Ms. Trinket," Coin answers. "It is the fuel that keeps the flames of rebellion burning. Not just for this particular war, but for centuries of revolutions prior to it." She stops pacing, her eyes now burning into mine. "Tell me, have you heard of the Revolutionary War or perhaps World War One or the second that followed it?"
I shake my head no. Since the Dark Ages, many historical books had been banned from such places as the Capitol. Our leaders believed them not to be important, or so that was the reason told to us. However now, after what I have been throw, I cannot help but wonder if the true reason was they feared what thoughts it would put in citizens' minds who were not as accepting of the government's regulations.
"Guns. Swords. Bombs. All can leave physical damage that can change a person's thoughts, Ms. Trinket. But the strongest of all is not how to get to someone bodily but mentally. Emotions, Ms. Trinket, they are the core to our success. From the Revolutionary War to now, you must have people captured emotionally to succeed universally. Am I making much sense?"
She has yet to answer my question directly. However, pointing that fact out to her could prove not to be in my favor. So simply, I nod in comprehension, hoping that by showing my understanding the real answer will be revealed to me. And the response I get is not one I was ever expecting…
"Ms, Trinket," her arms fold over her chest as looks to me. "What are your thoughts on you being televised across all of the districts, including this one, telling your story of how the Capitol cruelly captured and held you against your will or by any legal means, for six weeks?"
For the second time since the president's visit, I am left stunned by her words. Did she truly want me to relive the horrors I experienced? Tell all of the demise of Portia that I heartlessly try to forget deep in the back of my mind? I couldn't. I can't. Yet, there seems to be no other option than I must do so. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Haymitch mouthing something to me.
Don't.
My brow furrows slightly in curiosity and I tilt my head a little in an attempt to question his reasoning.
"Effie…" he says with some volume. "Don't."
Both he and Coin are staring at me now, an uncomfortable silence layering over the tension. Neither option I have-denial or acceptance-has a positive outcome. Either party will be upset with me no matter what I choose. However, feelings are no concern now. Safety is key. And though I know Haymitch must mean well with his demands, retaining goodwill with Coin is far more important. I draw a breath, chest aching as it rises in anticipation.
"Yes," I say after awhile. "Yes, I'll agree to an interview."
There's an unpleasant hiss from Haymitch as Coin clasps her hands together in a mannerism that resembles a nonchalant excitement. Not really desiring to look at either of the two parties, I turn my attention to Olive who seems to have fallen asleep mid-meal while my attention was drawn elsewhere.
"Marvelous," says Coin, referring to what I assume is my compliance to all of this. "I will go speak to Plutarch immediately after this. Once everything is set in stone, I'll allow you some details on how this will run." Her lips twitch into what appears to be the smallest of smiles. "You have made the right decision, Ms. Trinket. Something that will make your transition here far less stressful than it may have otherwise been."
Her eyes fall down to her wrist where a strange, clock-like device sits. And it's then I notice that unlike Hazelle had, there is no schedule etched into the skin of her forearm. As if feeling my watchfulness, Coin looks up abruptly, gaze now focused on the door rather than me.
"I should be going now," she mumbles, speaking seemingly more to herself than to Haymitch and me. "But, this visit proved more to my worthiness than I would have expected."
She gives a nod to me and what appears to be a sideway glance at Haymitch.
"I'm sure I'll be seeing you both soon enough if all goes as planned. Thank you for being unbelligerent about all of this, Ms. Trinket. You have proven my thoughts on you quite wrong."
She throws another sideways glance at Haymitch, their eyes meeting for a moment as if an unsaid conversation is telepathically happening between the two. Then she turns, walking briskly towards the door without commenting nor even making a noise regarding the fact Haymitch's expression still smolders with ferocity.
"Take care, Ms. Trinket," she says, hand resting on the doorknob. "May you recovery be smooth and uncomplicated."
The door has barely closed behind her when Haymitch turns to me, lips pressed tightly together in an expression I know all to well from the various things I used to do as an escort that caused him a great sense of annoyance.
"What the hell was that?" His finger jabs towards the exit Coin left from. "What were you thinking, Princess? Or, was this another empty headed moment of yours?"
My lips twitch automatically into a frown, "I don't see why you're so enraged right now, Haymitch! All I did was—"
"You don't owe her anything," he snaps. "You're not obligated to anyone here especially her. She isn't your friend, Effie. You don't need to try to appease her every whim and desire."
"I agreed to an interview," I say tersely. "You are making a big deal out of nothing."
"Nothing?" Haymitch growls. "Effie, the woman wants to exploit you and your story! Exploit Olive! She feels no sympathy towards you. Can't you damn well see she is just using you by implying you're a spy if you don't do this?"
"Haymitch," my voice is trembling now. "I was in a cell in the dark for almost two months! I was scared. I was alone. I don't want that to happen to me again. I don't care what she wants, I just don't want to be in that situation again! I don't want Olive in that situation!"
"So televising Olive as a means of propaganda is a better choice then? Exposing her as some sort playing piece in part of the rebellion is okay?"
"I don't even need to explain myself to you, Haymitch Abernathy!" I nearly shout. "It's my decision, my choice, and Olive is my daughter, I can—"
"Dammit, Effie, she's my kid too!"
Silence. Utter, unbroken quiet. I can feel the heat from my face drain away as Haymitch looks to me, his anger suddenly turning his expression into one of pure exhaustion. He leans against the bedpost, a hand pressed against his forehead as he seems to recollect himself.
"When you were taken, I did all in my power to fight to get you back. Despite what was allowed by District Thirteen," he says quietly. "They don't take kindly to Capitolians being admitted here. Hell, Katniss's prep team, Fulvia, and even Plutarch in some sense would be better off back at the Capitol. Nobody trusts them. Nobody likes them. Panem even knows what Coin'll decide happens to them once this damned rebellion is said and done. And I knew how big of a risk it was making sure you got here."
He wipes the sweat that now speckles his brow away.
"I didn't know what had happened to you. If you were even still alive. Or the baby for that matter. Peeta's forced interviews with Caesar offered no answers. I worked in the dark, unsure of if any of what I was doing would save you," he chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Damn district doesn't even have alcohol here, did you know that? Made it kind of hard to sleep at night, not that I needed to anyways…"
I watch as his chest rises as he inhales, his appearance becoming more gaunt looking with each passing moment as he dictates his tale.
"Plutarch helped though. Helped a lot actually. Probably couldn't have gotten it done when I did or maybe not at all without him," he says, looking to me. "I already told you about when we found you. Of Olive's birth. But I never got to apologize."
"Haymitch," I begin. "You don't—"
He holds up his hand stopping me from finishing. "I do," he says. "It's my fault that they took you. I should've been more careful and I wasn't. I was a fool, Effie, and I'll never forgive myself because of it."
When only moments before we were fighting, all of a sudden the anger has melted away into sincerity. An unexpected change that I don't understand but do not question at the same time. I watch Haymitch, unsure of if to speak or not.
"I don't like the idea of the interview," he finally says. "But I guess it really isn't my say. I just," he pauses. "I saw what happened to Katniss. To Finnick. Hell, anyone who they interviewed about this sort of thing and…you don't need the emotional effects that come with it, Effie. I don't want you to go through that."
Without even thinking, I adjust Olive so that her weight is now on one arm and my other is free. I reach forward slightly, despite the pain throughout my body, and grasp Haymitch's calloused hand.
"I know," I say quietly. "I know. But I have to. I too have to apologize."
He looks to me, confused evident in his features. "What for?"
"The reapings," I say and almost automatically Haymitch exhales.
"Effie," he begins. "Those weren't your fault. You didn't force those kids into the arena, the Capitol did."
"I know," I repeat. "But I chose them."
"Effie…"
"I chose them, Haymitch, whether it was an accident or not, I did. And they all died with the exception of Katniss and Peeta. I never thought much of it. I mean, at the time it was painful but life went on. There were always more games, more children drawn to participate, and I had grown so accustomed to it that...that I ignored the real outcomes of what truly occurred. But now," and I look down at Olive, her tiny lips are pursed as she breathes softly in her sleep. "Now I'm mother and if Olive were to have been…"
Haymitch squeezes my hand but says nothing. Yet, I know he's thinking what I am. That he too has had nightmares of Olive being thrown into the games. We stay silent for a moment, fingers laced with one another's in an unspoken comfort.
"I have to do this," I say quietly. "For them. The late children and their families. Not for this rebellion or any other reason. But because I must. To make amends even though words will never return the children lost back to their families. It's…it's the right thing to do. The least I can do."
Haymitch stays silent even though I am done speaking. He watches Olive, his face holding an expression that is unrecognizable. I cannot help but wonder what is going through his mind right now. What his thoughts are after listening to my reasonings-which I have a feeling he may have found ridiculous-for my wanting to go through with the interview.
"You've changed," are the words that pull me from my thoughts.
I turn to meet his gaze, his hand still clasped around mine. His expression is still unreadable, but something tells me that now that he is far from sarcasm or any sort of teasing. That his words are genuine, whether they are negative or positive.
"I just see the truth now," I say softly. "I'm still me. I'm still Effie. But just Effie. Nothing more. Not an escort, not a citizen of thirteen. Nothing."
"Nah," Haymitch shakes his head. "You are someone, Effie. Someone to Olive. Someone to Peeta and Katniss. Someone to Twelve," he seems to hesitate, struggling to say whatever he's trying to. "Someone to me. Not a nobody but a somebody. The famous Effie Trinket who still seems to manage to be annoyingly bubbly even in the most pessimistic of situations."
I can feel the corners of my mouth twitch upward into a smile. Haymitch could be very endearing when he actually tried. I inhale deeply, settling back further into the pillows as another silence washes over our conversation. It had been so long. So terribly long since there had been even the briefest moment of intimacy or, whatever this indeed is, between us. So many questions flood to my mind. Many unsaid words tangled in the thoughts that flow. Yet, I say none of them, not wishing to spoil the moment. For another time, I promise myself. A later time when the fires of rebellion did not lick at our ankles.
"Thank you," I say instead. "For never giving up on finding me."
He shrugs, his fingers absentmindedly smoothing the indents of my knuckles. "You would've done the same for me."
I nod quietly, finding no need to speak after that. Instead, I enjoy what little peace there is left before it has a chance to dwindle off. Savoring the small moment that Haymitch and I share with the uncertainty of when another will arise. It's times like this I remember why I care for him so. Know that he cares for me. I look to him once more, our meeting briefly and yet, in the short amount of time, I can almost swear that I see him offer me a half smile. But, of all the uncertainties and questions, I know one thing for sure. For however long we spend like this, Haymitch never lets go of my hand.
Some Hayffie fluff, hopefully it wasn't too cheesey because I'm trying to pull them together now without making it cliche and making sure they keep to their characters. I actually had a ball writing Coin, she's just twisted in her own unique way and I feel as if Haymitch might hate her just a little less than he does Snow. Maybe he isn't too big on authoritative figures. Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. Seriously, it keeps me writing to the end. Support is the most cherished thing a writer can have and I am so blessed to have amazing readers like you guys! I think that maybe Finnick and Annie's wedding may be next chapter but again, no promises. Some Haymitch and Olive moments next chapter with some more Hayffie if my brain can make it work right! Thanks so much for reading! -Jen