CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Words: 2,218
It was his last night in the Capitol. He'd gotten both Effie and Katniss off, and Paylor had told him that he'd be due to catch an early train out of the Capitol and back to 12. He was more than exhausted yet he couldn't sleep.
He heard the soft knock, and then he listened as the code to be let into his room was entered. A few seconds later his door opened and, after a brief hesitation, closed shut a few seconds later.
There's only one person in all of the Capitol who had the code to his room.
Her heels clicked on the cool floor, and despite the circumstances, he felt a smile tugging on his lips.
She was still his girl. Even after everything, from the torture, to the bruises, to the pain, sorrow, and fear, she still held on to a piece of who she once was.
She approached the bed, and he watched her under heavily lidded eyes.
"Haymitch?" she whispered into the night.
"I'm awake," responded Haymitch. He sat up, barely making out her silhouette, and reached over to turn on his lamp.
"Don't," she said, her body stiffening, and he lowered his hand.
"Effie?"
"I—I couldn't sleep," she admitted softly, "And I remembered… I know you never liked the dark. I thought maybe…."
He couldn't see it, but he knew she was blushing. He didn't respond. He just scooted over so she could climb in next to him, which she did once she slipped out of her heels and removed her robe.
She sat next to him, her hands in her lap, the air thick.
After a few moments Haymitch reached over to turn on the light. Again, she stopped him.
"I need to see you, Effie," he said, and he turned on the lamp. It was the first time he'd gotten a real look at her in months, but particularly the past few weeks. Most of the time during her trial she looked so small and defeated that he couldn't even look at her. He wasn't allowed to visit her at all so he literally hadn't seen her since the day of Snow's – or Coin's – execution.
She was still void of any makeup, the wig and powdery face from earlier today gone. She'd had to cut her hair to make it even and it sat in a short bob on her head.
Her eyes were still vacant as she stared back at him and he had to bite back the anger.
Coin and Snow are dead, he reminded himself, and he swallowed, hard.
He wished he knew what to say. He had no words for her. But he wanted to say something, anything, really, because the silence was deafening.
"When I stood on that stage, all those months ago, knowing I had to send two you of you into that Arena, I just wanted all three of you to be safe," Effie finally told him.
"We are now. All of us."
Effie's eyes welled with tears, and then she was kissing him.
He jerked and gently pushed her away, looking into her eyes again. "Effie."
"Just once more," she whispered, and she cupped his cheeks, her voice husky.
"Are you sure?" His voice was strained, his nerves shot, and he desperately wished he had a drink.
She slithered on top of him and he felt his heart fail. She kissed him, running her fingers through his hair, making him moan.
Jesus he'd missed this, missed her.
They made short work of it. Her fingers quickly worked on his pajama bottoms and then she lifted her nightdress and slid down his length.
He hissed at the pleasure blinded him, but before he could start moving she reached over and turned off the light.
He didn't understand what that meant, and he didn't have time to dwell on it, because suddenly her hips were moving.
He started off slowly, because she was still so frail to him.
She moaned in his ear, then pushed back so she could look at him. "I'm not glass, Haymitch. I won't break. Please. God, please fill me."
Undone, he pulled her closer to him, thrusting his hips as she moved hers to meet his. She clawed at his back as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pushing her in deeper.
Gripping his hair she buried her face in his neck, crying out as the pleasure took over. She threw back her head, crying out into the night. Then, changing positions, she leaned back, gripping his knees and thrusting upwards.
"Fuck," groaned out Haymitch, and Effie bit her lip to keep herself from screaming as the next orgasm hit her.
They lost track of how much time passed. Their bodies became flush with perspiration, their voices hoarse from the verbal pleasure expressed. There were teeth marks shared between the two, love marks on their neck, their lips swollen and red from endless kisses.
She choked out his name as the last orgasm hit her, and he quickly followed, her name on his lips.
Completely spent they collapsed on the bed, breathing hard, a sticky, tangled mess.
It took several moments for their breathing to calm down. When their heartbeat slowed down Haymitch finally moved, turning the light back on.
"Haymitch," said Effie, gripping his arm, but once again he ignored her.
"I need to look at you." He needed to make sure that this was okay…. That she was okay.
"But I'm ugly."
He jerked at the words and sat up so that he could stare at her. "What'd you say?"
"I'm ugly."
"You were fucking tortured!"
Effie sighed and turned away from him. Then she said, her own voice quite cool, "You can't even look at me, Haymitch."
He was pretty positive he was going to snap. Just lose it. Off his rocker.
"You still have no clue," and his voice was ice. At his voice she turned and faced him. "I can't look at you because I hate myself, Effie. I hate knowing that you were two rooms away from Peeta and I never fucking knew it. I wasted so much time. If Coin or Plutarch had said anything—" He bit the inside of his jaw when he felt his emotions get the best of him. "I'm just scared we'll make eye contact and I'll see contempt in yours, like I used to."
"You… you blame yourself?"
He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, and then— "Of course I blame myself! How stupid was I, to think you were safe? You were an Escort, damn it, they never should have fucking laid a hand on you. And it never once crossed my mind. When I finally found out I… I fucking lost it, Effie. I was ready to take down all of 13 to get to you. They didn't want me to, but I told Coin I'd kill them all if they tried to stop me."
She stared at him, astonished.
"You… you killed Snow, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"I never once even thought about blaming you, Haymitch. How could you think that about me? You were all that held me together. I knew you'd come for me."
"When you realized Peeta was gone…?"
Effie shook her head. "I had no clue Peeta was gone. I was beaten unconscious. Out of it for days." Haymitch felt the bile in his throat but swallowed it down. "I don't know why I wasn't killed."
"They thought we'd come back for you. They were right. But they weren't expecting Haymitch Abernathy, Victor of the 50th Hunger Game. If they thought for one second they'd be able to stop me." He smiled humorlessly. "Well… you see where they are, and where I am."
"You're still so brave, Haymitch."
"Now be brave for me, Effie," said Haymitch urgently. "Let me see you. And let me prove exactly how I feel about you."
She licked her lips. "Will you let me do the same for you?"
"I'll go first, Princess."
With trembling hands she lifted the shirt above his head. She stared into his gray eyes, Seam eyes verses Capitol eyes, and took him in.
The scar Katniss had given him had mostly disappeared.
He had other scars, though, faint over years of time. For the most part, however, he looked good. The Capitol had cleaned him up quite nicely.
Save for the single scar where District 1's Tribute had nearly killed him.
She'd never seen it before. Why would she have? They'd only slept together twice before, and both of those times were so spur of the moment that there was hardly any time for undressing.
She noticed small scrapes, nearly invisible now, along his arm, and she gasped when she saw his knuckles, big and swollen.
He earned those because of her.
She blushed as she took off his pants, feeling nearly like a virgin, though if anybody had ensured that Effie Trinket no longer had her innocence, it was Haymitch Abernathy. He hadn't been her first, or her second, but that was neither here nor there.
He'd probably be her last.
His legs had their fair share of scars as well, but nothing major.
Nothing like hers.
Before she started thinking about that, she kissed every single scar on his body.
By the time she was finished, his eyes were black with lust.
"I've never in my life had such an appreciation for my scars," Haymitch told her, and for the first time in a really long, Effie genuinely smiled.
He took his time with her. She was shaking, and he had to remind himself that she was not afraid of him. He peeled off her nightdress and tried to hold in his scowl.
It came out looking like a frown.
"Is that face supposed to make me feel better?" asked Effie, and the look he gave her had her shutting up.
She was still much too thin for his liking. He'd never wanted to fix people up before. How many Tributes had been too thin, too small, too frail? But this was Effie Trinket, darling of the Capitol, and the strips of burned flesh, the black and blue skin, the scar left from her surgery to repair broken bones… it nearly broke him.
She tried to stay still as he placed her down, taking her in from head to toe. He did not kiss her. Instead he trailed a calloused finger along each scar, counting them.
When he was finished he swallowed his anger, realizing he was just happy she was alive.
"You're still beautiful, Effie. You're alive, so you've never looked better to me."
This time she allowed him to be gentle, because she understood he needed this, like she had needed it the last time. He took his time with her, never taking his eyes off of her, aside from the few times he buried his face in her neck.
"Effie," he quietly whimpered, and her body responded on its own accord.
She choked out his name as she came, and he planted soft kisses on her lips, speeding up slightly, and sliding in deeper, in hopes that she'd cum again for him.
He gripped her hand, tightly, trying to hold on for a few more moments. He wanted this to last forever, even though he knew it couldn't.
He cursed quietly and erupted, lights exploding around his eyes as she clenched around his length.
He did not choke out his 'I love you,' even as it was on his lips.
He stared at her, still breathing hard, and for the first time saw an emotion present in Effie's eyes: sadness.
And he knew.
"You're still gonna stay, aren't you?"
"I have to."
He kept his face neutral, his eyes guarded, like he'd been taught all those years ago at the start of the Rebellion. Only after he rolled off of her did he frown into the ceiling.
"You know there's always a place for you in 12."
"Don't worry about me, Haymitch. Just take care of our Mockingjay. And yourself."
"Don't tell me not to worry about you, Effie," and his tone had her staring at him.
She caressed his stubble-filled cheek. "Do you honestly think I could stay away forever?" Haymitch didn't answer. "Don't drink yourself to death. Buy a pet or something. I had an uncle from the country who raised geese."
"Geese?" He eyed her like she had three heads.
"Just do something that'll help you pass the time until I return. I'll heal, Haymitch. I'll be damned if I let them win. But imagine how royally pissed I'll be if I get to 12 and realize you've drank yourself to death?"
He finally slid under the covers, tucking Effie in as well. "Geese, huh?"
"Or sheep. Or get a dog. I don't care." Her voice started to get thick with sleep. "I don't want your only companion to be the bottle."
Her eyes fluttered closed and he turned off the light.
It'd be their last time together, for God knows how long, and he was intent on enjoying it.
When nightmares plagued her, he was there, comforting her with his lips and body.
And maybe one day, when she was ready, she'd let him comfort her with his heart.