If you're still taking prompts . . . Haymitch and Effie forced-ish to marry in order to protect her from Coin when the wanna-be president starts executing anyone ever associated with the Games. An escort is pretty much fair game, but she's going to have a lot of backlash if she tries to kill the wife of one of the key players in the rebellion.

I was VERY impatient to write this one. I love the idea!

Of Convenience and Love

Effie was sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed when Haymitch stormed into her room and slammed the door behind him. She couldn't control her flinch and he threw her a guilty look that she elected to ignore. She was tired of everyone walking on eggshells around her. She closed her book and placed it on her bedside table, careful not to jolt the needle in her hand. The doctor had told her they would take off the drip in a few days but that she needed the help until she could stomach more food. It was funny, she thought, how starved you could be and still cannot bear to eat more than a few mouthfuls. She had never quite understood what Haymitch meant by that until her incarceration and subsequent rescue. Although, she wasn't sure rescue was quite the right word. She seemed to have traded a cell for another albeit a nicer one. She might be getting medical help, regular meals and a relative safety – no one had tried to beat her yet – but there were still guards at her door and it had been made painfully clear that she wasn't to get out of her hospital room.

"May I help you, Haymitch?" she asked with forced politeness.

Guilt was soon replaced with annoyance on Haymitch's features. He couldn't understand how she could act like her old self after what she had been through, he had told her she should be screaming and crying but Effie didn't see the point. Haymitch was the only friendly face in there, neither the doctors nor the soldiers who interrogated her at length when the fancy took them were particularly friendly. Apart for Haymitch, they all treated her like a criminal and she wasn't totally convinced she was safe despite Haymitch's awkward but regular reassurances. No sense in letting them know she was so weak she silently cried herself to sleep, afraid of what awaited her in her nightmares, or woke up two or three times at night so terrified she couldn't even muster a scream. She didn't want to appear weak. Weak people always died first, that was what Haymitch had told her at the beginning of every Hunger Games.

"I need you to sign this." He didn't bother with any greetings or explanations. He threw a thin file in front of her on the bed and took a pen out of his pocket. He handed that to her a little less abruptly.

She opened the folder to find a couple of pieces of paper. It looked official but the words on the page didn't register, she didn't even try to read it. Rebels seemed obsessed with bureaucracy and even though once upon a time she would have been horrified at signing something without reading it first top to bottom, now she was just too tired of the whole thing. She signed whatever they wanted her to sign because they would end up forcing her anyway.

The pen felt heavy and out of place in her left hand, she was right-handed but the needle prevented her from doing anything with her right hand. She looked at the bottom of the page for the space where she was supposed to sign, barely noticing Haymitch's signature next to the line reserved for hers. She pressed the tip of the pen on the page and then frowned when she caught sight of the date right above the empty line.

"There is a typo mistake." she told him, dropping the pen. "This is dated from a year ago."

"It's not a typo." he replied. "Just sign the damn thing, Effie."

He was avoiding her eyes and nervously clenching and unclenching his fists. This wasn't good. She knew Haymitch's quirks and habits like no one else, she knew him as intimately as he ever allowed someone to know him, almost ten years of working together and eight of an irregular and unofficial sexual affair had made sure of that.

"What are you hiding from me?" she asked, her stomach churned with fear. The last time Haymitch had showed that kind of behavior he had fled with the rebels and left her behind to get tortured by her own people. She didn't think she could bear it if he left her again.

"Nothing." he grumbled, still not looking at her.

She stared at the bunch of papers, hoping to find an answer there. What she saw sent her heart racing in a frenzy that left her dizzy. "Haymitch, this is a marriage certificate."

"Make sure you sign the three copies, sweetheart." He snatched the book from her bedside table and pretended to be fascinated by the back cover.

"I don't know what game you're playing at but I'm not interested." she snapped, closing the file and pushing it away from her. "Would you please get out of my room? I would like to read another chapter before my next questioning. I think your rebels are starting to warm up to me, they call me Capitol scum now. It's a large improvement from bitch." And that was why she would never let them see how broken she was.

He breathed out a sigh and put the book down. When he grabbed the folder and sat at the foot of her bed instead of starting to yell, she knew it was even worse than what she feared. He placed the file on his lap and finally met her eyes.

"That's why you have to sign those." He nodded to the file on his lap. "No more questioning. No more threats."

"Oh, I heard worse in terms of threats, you shouldn't worry about that." she chuckled bitterly. "Your soldiers don't hold a candle to President Snow's Peacekeepers."

She averted her eyes, too afraid to see pity on his face. That was the first thing she had seen when she had woken up after her rescue : Haymitch's face hovering over hers with a look of pity. She knew she was pitiful, there was no denying that. Her wounds were mostly healed but they would leave scars all over her body, she had lost so much weight she couldn't even be called slim anymore and, of course, she had lost her wig so her plain blond hair limply framed her face in shapeless curls that urgently needed some creams and lotions to get shiny again. She was nothing compared to what she used to be. She had been beautiful, that had been her only asset and it was gone. He was well aware of it, of course he would pity her.

"Coin is rounding up escorts and Gamemakers." Haymitch scratched his beard. She hadn't decided if she liked it or not yet. She was used to the stubble but the beard was untrimmed… Perhaps if he let her do something to style it… "She's going to put them on public trials but it's a joke and everybody knows it. She's going to have them executed."

Effie wasn't particularly surprised by those news. She didn't feel anything about that. Did she want to die? No. Had she been expecting to live more than a week? Not for a long time, each new day was a welcomed surprise. Haymitch was staring at her, she could tell her lack of reaction was disturbing him. For his sake, she forced a smile. "Well, I do like public appearances. A last one will be nice."

"Don't be stupid. I'm not letting her humiliate you in public just for the fun of it." he spat. "Plutarch tried to convince Coin to let you go. I did too. It didn't work out. She doesn't want to let any escort walk free."

She was afraid to understand where this was going and she had trouble staying focused because of the panic that gripped her. "I'd rather be executed than live the rest of my life in prison. Don't convince her to exchange a death penalty for a sentence to life imprisonment. I…" She had troubled swallowing, her mouth felt parched. "I can't, Haymitch."

She was surprised when he covered her hand with his, it brought tears to her eyes she refused to shed. One tear and she would soon turn into a sobbing mess.

"I tried to reason with her but she's dead set on killing you." His voice was angry and heavy with bitterness. "She's the same stuff as Snow, it's going to be a problem." He shook his head and shrugged. "Anyway, they think they're very clever and can't be challenged but there's always a way, sweetheart. I can't protect you against the rebels but my name can."

His hand twitched over hers. His fingers weren't steady, she couldn't help but notice. Withdrawal. Haymitch's physical appearance had deteriorated too. His cheeks were hollow, his skin had a yellow tinge to it and the tremors in his hands were obvious every time he picked up something. She knew him enough to know he hated that everyone could see his weakness – or his perceived weakness rather, Effie chose to regard his sobriety as a strength of will on his part even if it had been imposed.

"I don't quite follow." she confessed, her eyes falling back on the file forgotten in his lap. What did a marriage certificate had to do with all of that?

"They can execute the escort." he explained. "But the wife of one of the only remaining victors? The wife of a key player of the rebellion? No way. Effie Trinket is an easy target, Effie Abernathy is untouchable."

He was sporting a small smirk that told her he was actually proud of himself for having outsmarted Coin and the rebels.

"We are not married." she argued.

"Details." he shrugged. "I told them we were. A year ago. We eloped if anyone asks." He let go of her hand and pushed the file to her again. "Now sign those so I have proof and Plutarch can leak the information to tonight TV news."

She didn't even try to reach for the pen. "You told them I was your wife."

He rolled his eyes. "It popped into my head, okay? I was trying to find an argument Coin couldn't shoot down and… I don't know, it was the first thing that came. But it was a stroke of genius, sweetheart, pure genius." He looked entirely too gleeful. He didn't even seem to realize how stupid it all was.

"So if I understand correctly you married me without bothering to ask me first." She couldn't shake the anger off her voice. She hadn't been able to take a decision for herself since she was arrested by Peacekeepers a few months ago and now Haymitch had gone and taken the biggest decision of all in her place.

"It was that or you being killed. Would you rather be dead?" he scoffed defensively.

"Perhaps, I would, yes." she retorted, looking down. She waited for the explosion for the Suit yourself, sweetheart that was bound to follow but it didn't come. No shouting, no yelling… She met his eyes a bit anxiously after a few seconds, feeling unsettled by his lack of temper.

His grey eyes were heavy with something she couldn't place, he held out his hand and she took it uncertainly. He squeezed it gently. "We lost Chaff, Finnick, Katniss' sister and we almost lost the girl too. I'm not even talking about Mags, Seeder and the others. Don't make me lose you too, Effie, sign the papers. Let me protect you."

She wanted to snap and snarl that he hadn't done a really good job of protecting her until then but the words remained stuck in her throat. She couldn't, not when he looked so miserable. "Are you sure this will work?" she asked instead.

He nodded briefly. "Plutarch is about to leak the story, once it's public it should take. We will need to… What is it you used to call it? Feed the monster? But it will work. People enjoy a good love story, star-crossed lovers and all that crap."

Was it a love story? She wasn't sure. There had never been any talk of love between them. Hatred at times maybe but love? He had never hinted at feeling anything like that, she, on the other hand, had but… She sometimes felt as if they had beaten every emotion out of her in those cells. She was empty, hollow. "Why are you doing this?"

It was his turn to avoid her eyes. "I told you, I don't want to lose another friend."

"Friends don't get married." she whispered. "Even for show. You are commitment phobic, Haymitch, you wouldn't get married if you were head over heels for someone."

He glanced at her but otherwise focused on the pen he had snatched back and was now spinning over and over. "I get that's not what you wanted but it was the only way to save you, sweetheart."

"And what about you?" she huffed. "This isn't the kind of story you can discard in a month. I will have to come and live with you. I am going to annoy you to death and you are going to get so frustrated and overwhelmed you are going to drink yourself into a stupor every day which will only make me even more annoying. I don't give us two weeks before one of us snaps and tries to kill the other."

"Business as usual then, Princess." he snorted.

She didn't find that funny. "It's not fair on you. You don't have to put up with me anymore. The Games are over, you don't need an escort, you're free."

"I don't want an escort." he sighed, obviously irritated with her now. "I want you alive. Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Because you never gave any indication of wanting me anywhere but on a bed or against a wall before." she snapped, turning her head away.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence. Their affair was never mentioned, it was an unspoken rule between them. What they didn't name didn't exist. She had trouble understanding how he expected her to go from denial to marriage in a heartbeat. Even to save her life.

"Before I hadn't spent months looking for you, afraid they were going to execute you any minute I laid down to get some sleep." Haymitch grumbled at last. "I am not going to be a good husband. I'm already doing a shitty job at being… whatever I am to you but it's better than you being dead."

"No, it's not." she denied. "I've seen first-hand how bad a marriage of convenience can be, how miserable it makes you." Her parents lived in separate wings of the house, they could barely stand each other's presence at dinner. "I am not doing that."

"We're not exactly strangers, sweetheart, and this marriage isn't entirely convenient." he argued. "I know you and you know me, we've seen each other at our worst. There won't be any surprise." He smirked but she wasn't sure it was totally genuine. "Plus, the sex is usually good. See? There are upsides."

Her heart fell to the bottom of her stomach. "I don't know if… Sex is…" She couldn't finish her sentence. She wanted to throw up.

"Not something you need to concern yourself with right now." he offered quietly. "It was just a stupid joke."

"I'm broken." she whispered. She didn't know why she continued arguing when it was clear the decision had already been made and it could save her life but marrying Haymitch wasn't something she could do without a second thought. It was too important. He was too important.

"No, you're not." he scoffed. He lifted his hand a bit too quickly and she recoiled, instinctively raising her arm to protect her face. His hand stilled in the air and she let her arm fall, her cheeks flaming crimson. What had she been afraid of? Haymitch would never hit her. Even in his most terrifying drunken rage he had never once hurt her. She trusted him. And that didn't even help.

"See?" she joked but it fell flat. "Broken."

The hand resumed its path to her face, more slowly. His fingers brushed her cheek and then tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You're not broken. I was afraid you would be when I first saw you after… I thought…" He was struggling to find the right words but she didn't try to help him. "You're not broken, sweetheart, you're a survivor. You're messed up. That's okay, it makes two of us. I can deal with that."

She placed her hand on his and pressed it to her cheek more firmly. It felt good. She wondered how good it would feel if she let him hug her like he had wanted to the first time he had come to visit her… "What about the scars?"

"You don't care about mine, I won't care about yours." He rolled his eyes like she was being stupid. Perhaps she was.

She bit her lower lip uncertainly. "Don't you care that I'm not attractive anymore?"

His eyes hardened, his thumb gently pried her lip free of her teeth. "You're always attractive to me, sweetheart, even when you're wearing your clownish clothes."

"Fashionable." she corrected him, feeling a small smile tugging at her mouth faced with the familiar argument.

"Ridiculous." he insisted, pushing the folder to her again with his free hand. "Sign those or I will do it for you. I'm not letting you die."

She let go of his hand and he removed it from her cheek to hand her the pen. She stared at the line where she was supposed to sign with a frown. She tried to bring herself to do it, she really did but…

"Do you love me at least a little?" She closed her eyes. "I'm not talking as a friend or whatever you can feel for someone you used to sleep with when the whim stroke you… I mean real love."

"Effie…" he growled, obviously uncomfortable.

"I don't know what I feel right now." she continued. "But I know I used to love you. I would never have told you, of course, but I used to. It could come back, I think. It probably will, it's in there already." She waited but he didn't say anything so she kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath. "I hated that I loved you, you know. I think sometimes I hated you just as much as I loved you and you seemed to hate me so much I couldn't help but wonder if it was the same for you. I want to know before I sign the papers. Do you love me at least a little? Because if you don't I need to make sure I don't fall back in love with you."

She heard the rustling of fabric and when she opened her eyes he was taking something out of his pocket. He grabbed her left hand without asking for permission, ignoring her flinch, and slipped a wedding band on her ring finger. It was worn-out and battered, a bit skewed in some place so it wasn't perfectly circular anymore. She didn't know what kind of metal it was, it had a silver aspect but she doubted it was actually silver, it wasn't white gold either and it seemed too resistant to be iron. It wasn't pretty but it was very Haymitch, very Twelve.

"It's nothing fancy." he mumbled with a shrug. "It was my mother's."

Suddenly, there was a lump in her throat. She knew he hadn't a lot of things left from his mother or his brother. "You don't need to part from this. I…"

"When she gave it to me, she said it was for my wife." he interrupted her, looking everywhere but at her. "She meant my girl, I guess, but… I never gave it to her, I didn't have time before…" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "You're the first one I give this to and you're the only one I want to see wearing it. Does that answer your question?" Tears were burning her eyes and she felt a few rolling on her cheeks but she couldn't speak for fear of starting to weep hysterically. He frowned, a shard of bitterness in his voice. "I know it's a bit plain for your tastes, you don't have to wear it. I will find you a pretty shiny ring once things calm down."

"No." she choked, covering her left hand with her right against her chest as if he was about to try to get it back. "No, it's perfect. Thank you."

He met her eyes then and she marveled at the myriad of things he wasn't able to say but that she could read so plainly in the grey. He loved her, at this very second she was sure of it and she didn't hesitate much longer before signing the papers. He breathed out in relief once she closed the folder.

"I don't have anything for you." she lamented with a frown. "I need to find you a ring…"

"Already got one." he snorted, pulling up his sleeve to reveal the golden bangle on his wrist. Like Effie and Haymitch, the token had seen better days. It was scratched and bumped but still shining. "Finnick gave it back to me after the Quell. 'Figured you would have my ass on a plate if I lost it."

A chuckle escaped her. "You hate it, I expected you to 'accidentally' lose it anyway."

He covered the bangle with his other hand. "I hate it but it reminds me of you, sweetheart. I wouldn't throw it away."

"Even though you hate it?" she insisted.

He only shrugged. "Perhaps I love to hate it." His eyes lingered on the wedding band on her finger and came back up to meet hers with a smirk. "We match now."

"We do." she whispered. And in more ways than one, she supposed.

He stood up with a tired sigh and gestured to the file. "I need to get that to Plutarch and Coin and then go check on the kids. I will come back later."

She stayed silent and watched him walk to the door. He looked content, satisfied.

"Haymitch." He had his hand on the door handle and she didn't know why she had called him back until he turned around with an inquisitive face. Something warm uncoiled in her stomach and she felt better than she had in days. Dread, disgust and terror fading away for the time being. "You may kiss the bride."

He frowned but he didn't ask if she was sure. He never did, that wasn't how they worked. He made his way back to her bed quietly and placed the folder on the bedside table before nudging her legs aside so he could sit right next to her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body through their clothes. He touched her cheek again and smirked when she didn't flinch away, his fingers tangled in her hair and she closed her eyes when he finally leaned in.

It was nothing at first, just the brushing of his lips against hers. He let her close the distance and deepen the kiss as much as she was comfortable with but when she locked her left hand behind his neck and urged him closer, all bets were off. From slow and sweet, the kiss became a hot messy thing that left them breathless.

"I missed you." she whispered, even though that wasn't the right word. She hadn't missed him, she had craved him. She had yearned for his protective presence, his reassuring embrace and the knowledge that no one could hurt her while he was standing guard. "Never leave me again."

"I thought it would be safer for you, sweetheart." He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. "I screwed up." He didn't say he was sorry but she heard it anyway. She wished she could offer to forgive him but she couldn't, not just yet, so she kissed him again. She felt his thumb retrace the wedding band on her finger as they kissed and it filled her with something akin to happiness. She placed her hand on the golden bangle, hooking a finger between the metal and his skin. He belonged to her and she belonged to him and, at that very moment, that was all that mattered. Everything else, she would learn to live with.