original prompt : It's AU-ish, I hope you don't mind :) What if Effie was a member of the rebellion since the beginnings but without Haymitch's knowledge? I wonder if you could write something about the time when Haymitch was about to leave with Havensbee with the hoovercraft to pick up Katniss from the Arena during CF and Effie just appears and Haymitch is just stunned?

Effie Trinket, Rebel

"How long before we reach them?" Haymitch asked, studying the 3-D map of the arena floating in front of them, in the main room of the hovercraft.

"Three hours after we take off." Plutarch answered distractively, he was buried under three heavy folders full of papers his assistant had brought him. "Which should be in a few minutes. We're just waiting for our last operative."

"You could say spy." he rolled his eyes. "I don't know why you always insist on complicating everything in the Capitol."

The clicking of high heels on steel floor should really have warned him but, after all, Fluvia did love her heels too, so he didn't lift his head and continued to observe the map, worrying all the while that Katniss was going to do something to jeopardize the plan.

"Because 'spy' is just childish, Haymitch."

He looked up so fast something snap in his neck. "What are you doing here?" he asked, taking in the golden wig, the bright dress and the heavy make-up. He turned to Plutarch with a frown. "I told you to make sure she would be retrieved not to bring her to a hovercraft that may potentially be taken down at some point in the next hours." Plutarch was sporting an amused grin which really only served to irritate him further. "I told you I wanted her safe." He glanced at Effie. "For Katniss and Peeta's sake. Don't flatter yourself into thinking I care."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare." she smiled at him and it was then that he realized something was wrong. She didn't seem confused or upset or even frightened, all of which she really should have been considering she had just been abducted by rebels.

"I will go tell the pilots we're ready, shall I?" Plutarch said, dropping the folder he was consulting on the table.

"And your operative?" he asked, his frown deepening.

"I don't think introductions are necessary. Do try to play nicely together, children, I will be a few minutes." Plutarch joked. Haymitch was too stunned to do anything but gape slightly. Effie? A spy? Impossible. Utterly impossible. She was… not spy material. She was loud and bright and… Plutarch paused on the doorstep and glanced back one last time, probably taking in the growing awkwardness in the room. "Effie, Haymitch asked me specifically to make sure you would be retrieved before anything could happen to you. As for you, Haymitch… It was Effie who recommended the rebels to approach you. Now, remember the walls are thin and we're in the middle of a rescue mission. Don't shout too loud."

He closed the door behind him and Haymitch found himself alone with a woman he clearly didn't know.

"Don't be mad." Effie begged, when he stayed silent for too long.

"Mad?" He chuckled darkly. "Why would I be mad?"

"I couldn't tell you, Haymitch." she sighed.

"I thought we were friends." He knew it was unfair. "But all this time you were feeding facts about me to Thirteen?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "You, the other victors, the Gamemakers… Everything useful. I was gathering intel. I won't apologize for that." She stared at him with an intensity she usually reserved to the really bad nights when he was so drunk he didn't think there was anything wrong in spilling his guts in front of her. The things he had told her… She had took care of him, she had helped him time and time again. He had told her secrets he had never told anyone else. Drunken confessions about his family, the disgust he felt about himself… "I didn't betray your confidences." she added, as if she could read his mind. "I told them what they needed to know, nothing else."

He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, he felt so, so tired. Was there anything true in this world anymore? He thought he knew her, he thought… "How long? How long have you been lying to me?"

She moved as if to step closer but he raised his hand to stop her. He didn't want her closer. "I didn't lie exactly, you never asked me." she corrected him softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I suppose to ask if your repeated declarations of love for the Capitol were all for the show?" He raised his voice slightly before remembering Plutarch's warning and sneering cruelly. "I will give you that, sweetheart, you're a good actress. Makes me wonder what else you were pretending to love."

She seemed hurt. She turned her head away from him like he had slapped her. He hated that, hurting her. He didn't take any enjoyment from it and he was sure she didn't either, yet, it seemed they were always doing that anyway. "My father was a liberal and he was a little too vocal in his disapprobation of the way Districts were dealt with. He disappeared. I was part of the rebellion before I became an escort." She folded her arms, still not meeting his eyes. "I'm not apologizing for that either."

"I don't want your fucking apologies." he shouted.

"Language, Haymitch. No need to be vulgar." she snapped. "And I am not apologizing."

"Good because I don't want it." he scoffed. "And stop with that crap or are you telling me you're really an uptight bitch about manners? What's true and what's false with you? I can't even tell anymore."

"Proper behavior has never hurt anyone and it certainly won't hurt you." She drummed her fingers on her arm impatiently. "Why are you so angry? I would have thought you would be glad to know I'm not like them. I thought…" That sentence remained unfinished and it was probably for the best.

He didn't know why he was angry. He wasn't even angry exactly, he was… surprised, stunned, taken aback and every variation you could make on that idea. And maybe, yes, maybe it stung a little that she would be part of the rebellion and… "I trusted you."

"Not enough to tell me about your plan." she commented. "Not enough to tell me you were about to rescue Peeta and Katniss. You're mad at me but you did exactly the same thing I did."

"I was protecting you!" he growled. "The less you knew, the safer you were."

"Well, the same goes for you, you dimwit!" she shouted back, finally losing her calm demeanor. "If they had finally realized there was someone in the inside what do you think they would have done? If they had suspected you knew anything about it, being a victor wouldn't have protected you! You were better off not-knowing."

"Yeah, because that way I couldn't betray you." He stepped closer, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Truth is, you didn't trust me and you're too much of a hypocrite to admit it! Truth is, you may be a rebel but you're fake from start to finish. Truth is, sweetheart…" He stepped too close, she saw an opportunity and she took it. He wasn't expecting the slap that left his cheek stinging but, really, what did he know about her anymore? Raising a hand on a former victor, however, wasn't a good idea. The room wasn't big, it didn't take that much to pin her to the closest wall, his hands digging into her waist. "Feel better? How long have you wanted to do that?" he mocked. He didn't mind the slap, the problem was everything else.

"A while." She lifted an eyebrow. "How long have you wanted to pin me to a wall?"

His breathing was quick and hard because of anger and a lot of other things he didn't want to dwell upon. "A while." Her lips twitched into a smile and he couldn't look away.

"I trust you." she swore, all trace of levity gone from her voice. "I wasn't afraid you would betray me, I was afraid you wouldn't. I was afraid of what would happen to you if you didn't. Also, I wasn't allowed to tell you, I requested it but Plutarch talked me out of it and he was right. It was dangerous for every party involved." Her fingers brushed against his cheek. "I trust you."

He clenched her waist at her touch, stupid reflex. He searched her eyes for a lie, or a misconstruction of the truth at least, but he found nothing there except earnestness and a bit of sadness. "How can you be a spy when you're such an open book?" It couldn't be fake. The tremors in her hands each time they lost a tribute, the worry on her face when he drank too much, the sparks between them each time they brushed against each other… He could always tell when she was annoyed or angry or sad… He knew her. And if all this was a lie…

"You see through me." She bit her lower lip, careful not to avert her eyes. If he knew her, she knew him too and she was aware he would take that for an attempt at hiding something. "From the very beginning, you've seen through me. Do you remember the first thing you told me?" He remembered he had drunk far too much and the sun was reflecting far too brightly on her white wig. He remembered she had been eager to meet him, all cheerful smile and high-pitched voice. What had passed between them, however… "You told me I wasn't cut to be an escort, that I would hate myself before three days. And then, after we lost our first tributes together, you said I wasn't your usual Capitol girl."

"You cried, Trinket." He rolled his eyes. "No escort ever cries. No Capitol citizen ever cries over a tribute."

She tilted her head a little. "I waited and waited for you to understand, you know."

He would never have, it could have gone on forever and he would never have had any idea. Effie Trinket, rebel, was too much of a stretch. He could barely grasp it now that she was standing in front of him, claiming she was a spy.

"I never really lied to you." she said softly, her hands coming to rest on his arms. "Not on the important things. You hid things from me, I hid things from you. Let's call it even. I don't want to lose you, I don't want to lose your trust. Not now that…"

"What?" he prompted, leaning closer, her fingers gripped his forearms that tad tighter, a few inches closer, that was all he had to breach to kiss her.

"I don't have a façade to keep anymore." she whispered. "I don't have to pretend being a happy little Capitol escort. I can do whatever I want with whoever I want." She closed her eyes, her voice lowering down to a breathless murmur. "And I very much want you."

Those words in her mouth, in her voice, shot directly to his groin. She didn't really give him time to ponder them, though, she leaned in slowly giving him an opportunity to retreat. As if he would ever retreat from her. She brushed her lips against his and he was lost. He put his hand behind her neck and he closed his mouth on hers, his whole weight was pinning her to the wall but still she gripped his shirt to pull him closer until there was no space left whatsoever between them. There was nothing slow, tender or even loving about that kiss. It was lustful, hungry, and a fight for control. She locked a leg behind his calf and he tumbled forward, she used the momentum to turn them so he was the one trapped between her and the wall. He didn't stop kissing her, his hands didn't stop wandering, but hers were on his belt and…

"I haven't heard a shout for some time, have you…" Plutarch's voice barely registered in his fuzzy brain. "Really?" Effie shot away from him and stared at their friend before lowering her eyes, guilt written all over her face. Haymitch couldn't help his snicker but Plutarch didn't look amused. "When I told you to play nice that wasn't what I had in mind, Haymitch."

"She's the one who was all over me, how come I'm the one being blamed?"

The glare she sent his way was priceless. He winked at her and her lips twitched in amusement which prompted him to smirk and then her mouth stretched into a low sexy smile and…

"Focus, people!" Plutarch exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "We are on a rescue mission, in case you have forgotten."

"Right." Haymitch cleared his throat.

"We apologize." she said. "That won't happen again."

"Oh, it will happen again." Haymitch smirked, avoiding her when she tried to whack his arm. "You can count on that."