Prompt: perhaps a oneshot where Effie is threatened with the prospect of Katniss and Peeta being publicly killed to stop the rebellion unless, considering her closeness with district 12, she can kill Haymitch first (as he is one of the main people behind it) and then she goes to do it while he's asleep but he wakes up or something and idk angst bye (ps your writing's amazing bye again)

This got darkish at some point so warning for a bit of violence. And angst. But who am I kidding, I live for angst XD

For the Love of the Capitol

Effie crept along the silent corridors of the train, barefoot, wigless and with very shaky hands. The small gun they had given her fitted smugly in her hand, it was light but it felt so heavy she could swear her arm was made of lead.

She stopped in front of his door and stayed there, trying and failing to control her breathing. She thought about what would happen if she didn't push that door and finally did it. She had been dancing the same dance for days now, walking silently to his door in the night only to run away at the last possible moment. But it was over, it was the last night before they got to the Capitol to wrap the Victory Tour with the banquet and if she didn't do it now… If Haymitch was still alive when they reached the Capitol in the morning, Katniss and Peeta would be executed. Two for one, they had told her, which lives would she rather save?

Each and every one, she would have answered if she hadn't been too terrified to speak. She wasn't a killer, she wasn't a murderer, she… They had given her poison to spice his drink with, to make it look like an accident, and a gun as last resort, in case anything went awry but she couldn't do it. She couldn't poison his liquor, it was cowardly and cruel and…

She could feel the tears, hot and burning, rolling on her cheeks as she fumbled for the door handle. She couldn't do this, she knew. She couldn't. And yet, she couldn't let Katniss and Peeta die either. Two for one, it wasn't fair. Haymitch would probably want it that way. Save the children.

The door opened noiselessly and she stepped inside as silently as she could. The room was dark but the blinds weren't closed and she could make out his figure sprawled on the bed, the covers had been kicked to the foot of the bed. He was bare-chested, wearing sweatpants and laying on his stomach – not as drunk as she thought then, if he was wearing nightclothes – half of his face had sunk in the pillow but she could see the scowl and the tight line of his mouth. His right hand was under the pillow but the other one kept twitching, he was having a nightmare.

She couldn't do this.

But Peeta and Katniss… Public executions were neither dignified nor clean, she could give Haymitch that : a clean and dignified death. She aimed the gun at his back but her hands were shaking so much she was afraid to miss. She had one chance at this, the noise would alert everyone on the train. She carefully did not think about Cinna and Portia's face when they would see what she had done, as for Peeta and Katniss… They would hate her, but what else was new?

She tiptoed closer to him. Closer was worse. She had to suppress the urge to brush his hair out of his face. How many times had she helped him get to his bed over the years? How many times had he hold her while she cried her eyes out about tributes they had not managed to save? How many times had they smiled or glanced at each other in complicity? They were friends – and friends was a feeble word to describe their bond – they trusted each other. She trusted him like she never trusted anyone else. Wasn't that precisely the reason they had chosen her for this particular task? Because she was so close to Twelve's victors? To him? It would be easy for her, they had said, easier in any case than to send someone to take care of this discretely. He was an enemy of the state, why would she hesitate? She would only be doing what a good Capitol citizen should do : protect the Capitol.

Effie realized she wasn't a good Capitol citizen because she really couldn't do it. Even to save Katniss and Peeta, she couldn't do it. The gun was so heavy in her hand. Katniss and Peeta, she had to save Katniss and Peeta… She was standing right next to the bed, all she had to do was aim and pull the trigger. But she couldn't. She just… she couldn't. And if she couldn't…

She reached out to touch his shoulder, to wake him up, because they were so screwed either way she could as well tell him everything. She hadn't noticed the change of pace in his breathing. The second she outstretched her left hand, he grabbed her wrist, kicked her leg and before she had understood what was happening, she was pinned to his mattress, he was straddling her hips, the blade of his knife was pressed against her throat and his eyes were fixed on the gun in her hand.

"Drop it." he ordered. His voice was cold and flat but she saw the betrayal flash on his face.

"Haymitch…" she breathed out, desperate for him to understand.

"Drop the gun, Effie." he growled, not exactly pressing the knife down but shifting it enough she understood he would hurt her if he had to. Her numb fingers pushed the gun away and he kicked it off the bed with his free hand. "Good." But it wasn't good. He wasn't looking at her. The muscles of his jaw were contracted and his breathing was quick. "How long?"

"Haymitch, please…" She could feel the tears trailing down her cheeks. "Please…"

"How long have you been working for them ?" he hissed, still not looking her in the eye.

"I'm not." she denied, instinctively grabbing his wrist but it was a bad choice because he tensed and the knife slightly grazed her skin, enough to draw blood. She couldn't say she cared though.

"Oh, you just happened to decide you wanted to kill me, then?" he snorted bitterly. "What are you, a serial killer, now? I will give you that, you're a good actress, sweetheart. I swallowed it all, hook, line and sinker."

"Haymitch, you don't know…" she tried but he met her eyes then and she fell silent, shocked by the amount of pain, hurt and betrayal she saw there.

"Drop the act." he ordered. "Acting helpless won't help you get out of this one. You wanted me dead, that's enough reason for me to kill you in my book."

"You won't kill me." She whispered, ignoring the way his mouth pinched in displeasure.

"Yeah, what makes you so sure?" he mocked. "All I have to do is slit your throat. You're dead in less than thirty seconds."

She couldn't hide a shiver of fear because he was capable of it, she knew. He had killed before. He knew how to do it. But he also hated it and regretted it every day and he wouldn't willingly add another face to his nightmares. Yet, even though she knew he wouldn't hurt her, the tears wouldn't stop falling.

He seemed surprised to feel her relax under him. She let go of his wrist to place her hand on his cheek, stroking his stubble with her thumb. "You won't kill me because I couldn't kill you." Her thumb slid to his lips but he stretched his neck to get rid of her hand.

"That's shitty reasoning, sweetheart." He didn't remove the knife but he pulled it back enough she could breathe without fear of her throat being slit open. "Stop crying."

She would have loved to. "They're going to execute Katniss and Peeta." she said. "They're going to…" She tried to swallow back the sob but it was hard when he was looking at her with so much distrust and even a glimpse of hatred. "It was you or them. They made me choose. They said… They said…" She wasn't making much sense but the hatred gradually disappeared. "Haymitch…" She wanted him to hug her terror away. He gave the best hugs, he always made her feel safe and protected when she was in his arms, it was…

"Tell me everything." he commanded instead.

So she did. She told him how a black car had stopped next to her on the street, how she had been ordered to step inside… She told him about her brief meeting with President Snow, how he had said one could wonder about where her allegiances were… She told him about how he had said Haymitch was trying to prompt a new rebellion and what the new victors represented to the rebels… She told him about the impossible choice of killing one of the main instigators of the rebel movement or watching the symbols the rebels had embraced being put down like dogs… She told him about the poison Peacekeepers had given her and the small gun that felt so heavy… She told him she couldn't bring herself to do it… She told him how she was a horrible person because she felt relieved to not be able to kill him when that meant Peeta and Katniss were going to their death.

When she was done talking her weeping mostly receded to hiccups and Haymitch was looking at her with a blank face.

"I'm sorry." she murmured in honest despair. "I am so, so very sorry."

He shook his head and threw his knife on the nightstand, before passing a hand on his face. "That's fucking perfect." he growled. "Everything I needed." He lifted his weight from her hips and climbed off the bed to enter the en-suited bathroom. Effie stayed where she was, she hid her face in her hands and tried to get her breathing back under control because she could feel the panic setting in. "Wonderful." he kept mumbling in the other room. "Fucking wonderful." The mattress dipped next to her and something cool was pressed against her throat, it stung a bit and Haymitch carefully wiped the blood away so she conclude the cloth was damp with alcohol or antiseptic at any rate.

"What are we going to do?" she whimpered. They had less than five hours before the train reached the Capitol.

"Nothing, what do you want to do?" he sighed. "Kill me? Didn't work so well for you, sweetheart. Word of advice, next time, don't get so close."

"I didn't want to kill you." she protested, removing her hands from her face to look at him properly. It was easier now that the bathroom lights were lit, she could see every line of his face. "Never, Haymitch."

His eyes softened slightly. "Yeah, I'm trying to work around that."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it?" He reached for her hair with hesitation, brushing back a wayward strand that was stuck to her cheek by her tears. "Effie, if they wanted me or the kids dead, we would be dead. Publicly executing the kids would send the Capitol in uproar, no one would understand why and Snow don't want them to know about the rebellion. As for me… If they wanted to kill me they wouldn't send a clumsy escort to do the job, they have other ways. That wasn't about me, or the kids for that matter, it was about you."

A chill crept down her spine. "Why?"

Haymitch shrugged like it was evident. "Because you're too close to me." He leaned against the headboard tiredly. At the way his hand kept clenching and unclenching, she knew he was craving a drink. "They're testing the water, trying to see if you're involved. I'm sorry, that's my fault. I shouldn't have let you get so close."

She frowned and scrambled in a sitting position before placing a hand on his bare arm. "Never apologize for that again."

When he opened his eyes, they were pained. He licked his lips nervously. "I better apologize because I am going to have to hurt you." He stroke her cheek with the back of his hand and then let it trail down to her throat thoughtfully. "They have to think you really tried, do you understand? And from now on, you have to act as if you hate me. Fear me, even. Shouldn't be too hard, though."

She shook her head in denial. "I could never…"

His hand closed around her throat, crushing her windpipe. He added his other hand and she was left clawing at his arms, his chest and even his face to stop him. Her sight went back for a second and she slumped on her back but still he didn't relinquish his hold. She could swear she was about to choke to death when he finally let go. She coughed and sucked up air and it hurt so much to breathe but pain had never felt so good either because that pain meant life and life was good.

Haymitch slumped next to her, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. "I'm sorry." he begged. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept repeating those words but it took her a few minutes to understand them and to realize she wasn't the only one shaking.

"It's okay." she croaked. "Haymitch, it's okay."

It hurt to speak, her voice was all distorted and rough. She understood what he had just done: he had saved her. When they arrived in the Capitol, in the morning, and Snow wanted to know why Haymitch was still alive, she could show him the bruises that wouldn't take long to appear and cry about how she had tried and failed to kill him. She ran her shaking fingers through his hair soothingly, wondering how and when her life had gotten so complicated. Finally, after the longest time, he pulled himself together and lifted his head. His grey eyes were shining with guilt and fear.

"Effie…" he whispered with so much self-loathing she couldn't bear it.

She propped herself on her elbow and, locked a hand behind his neck and leaned in, kissing him like she had always wanted to kiss him but always denied herself the right to. It was a messy kiss and an amazing one as far as she was concerned, except she had to pull back and wince in pain because it really hurt to swallow. Guilt was written all over his face and he finally wrapped his arms around her and held her close, pressing soft kisses to her bruising throat.

They ended up with him on his back and her snuggled against him. She wanted to ask what they were headed to and what was going to happen now, but her throat wasn't allowing her questions so she kept silent, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest under her cheek. If she could have talked that wasn't what she would have said anyway, she would have told him she could never have chosen the Capitol over him. She had to trust he knew that.