Prompt : You've mentioned that "Haymitch didn't know the chance he had. He was so broken he wasn't even aware how lucky he was to have Effie taking care of him." When you mentioned this line, I thought "what if he really didn't know how lucky he was?" Then, I remembered when Effie was in prison. What if Haymitch lost hope in finding her? He was losing hope and then Finnick talked him into finding Effie. Finnick might also tell him that he was envious with what Haymitch and Effie had. He wished that Chaff was there too because Chaff knew how to put some sense into Haymitch.
Can this fic be very angsty? Because their little circle of friends was broken when Chaff died and when Jo and Effie were imprisoned. These two rebels were so heartbroken too because their girls were in the Capitol. Yep, really angsty and manly.

AND

Prompt : I don't know if you've done anything like this before but could you do one where Effie gets imprisoned/tortured because she is the only connection to haymitch that they have left and then maybe just before/after she gets rescued haymitch realizes that everything that happened to her was all because of him?

A Token Of Sort

Haymitch wanted to sleep for a thousand years and, perhaps, never wake up again. His whole body felt heavy and clumsy in a way even alcohol couldn't achieve. He was exhausted, he was worried out of his mind and, if he was honest with himself, he was also scared. Very, very scared.

He managed to sneak out of the briefing room and get back to his assigned room without anyone stopping him or calling him to look at a newly arisen problem which was a small feat in itself. He would have loved to celebrate with a shot of whiskey but his flask had been empty for two days and there was no liquor to be found in Thirteen. Not that he would have been allowed some even if there was. Coin and Plutarch wanted him sober and, unfortunately, Coin and Plutarch were in possession of information so Haymitch needed to play nice.

The bedroom was small and functional : a bed, a wardrobe, a narrow rectangular mirror that ran from the floor almost to the ceiling and, a luxury in a place like this, a small en-suite bathroom. Haymitch wanted to collapse on the bed, for some reason he ended up sitting on the floor, his back to the bed, staring straight at his own reflection. He hadn't done that in a while, if he could escape mirrors, he usually would. The stubble covering his jaw had developed into a real beard, his eyes were bloodshot, his skin had a tinge of yellow to it, his hair hung around his face, dirty and tangled, his clothes were wrinkled and had obviously been worn for several days on end. He reeked of sweat too probably. Effie would be appalled. He chased the thought away as quickly as it came. It was too easy to imagine her pinching her pretty mouth and tilting her head just so with a glare to match all glares. It hurt too.

The bedroom door opened and closed without any sort of knocking but Haymitch didn't look away from his reflection. Only two people would dare step into his room uninvited. Katniss still being angry with him about Peeta, it wasn't hard to guess who it was and what he wanted.

"Do you have news?" Finnick asked, sitting on the bed, not too far from where Haymitch was slumped down. He could see the boy in the mirror – well, man now, he supposed – his frantic green eyes, the hollowed cheeks, the obvious omnipresent distress… Thirteen wasn't good for anybody.

"You know I can't tell you that." Haymitch replied in a bored voice that didn't fool Finnick. The boy knew him too well.

"Haymitch, please." Finnick sighed, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Is she dead? Alive? Being tortured? I need to know."

Haymitch stared hard at Finnick's reflection. He could still see the fourteen years old boy in him and he forgot sometimes that the boy was now a grown man. Older victors often took younger ones under their wings but Haymitch had never felt the pull to do so before Finnick. He had been content to spend all of his Games drinking the time away with Chaff but Finnick had seemed so lost, people were so eager to use him, to hurt him… He had felt the need to act, even in a small way, offer friendship instead of the protection he couldn't grant, Chaff had followed along because it was easy to love Finnick. Every victor loved Finnick but the boy always favored Twelve and Eleven's washed up victors.

He had often wondered if his newfound interest for people at the time had something to do with his new escort but he had discarded the thought each time it had come to mind. Effie had broken him out of his carefully constructed shell of uncaring, it was true. She was too annoying, too difficult to get rid off, too nagging, too…

"Haymitch."

Finnick's voice startled him back into the present and he cursed himself for letting himself go down that road again. He had wished for Effie to leave him alone for years, had told her exactly that so many times he had lost count, and now that he was finally free of her insufferable presence, her absence was an ache in his chest. How stupid was that? Be careful what you wish for, they said and perhaps they were right.

"Annie's alive." Haymitch told him despite his promise not to reveal anything that had been said in the briefing room. "I don't know the details."

Finnick's whole body sagged forward as if relief had physically hit him in the stomach. It didn't last long, a few seconds at best. His green eyes were shining with tears. "She would be better dead."

It wasn't a wrong statement. He didn't think the Capitol was acting particularly nice to Annie Cresta.

"She would be better here." Haymitch countered. He couldn't hide the anger and frustration at the thought. Annie should be in Thirteen with them. Johanna and the other victors competing in the Quell, that was another story. There had never been any guarantee the rebels would manage to get everyone out, but Annie? Plutarch had been in charge of getting Annie out of Four as soon as hell started to rise, it was Finnick's only condition. And Plutarch had failed.

But, then again, that hadn't been his only failing that day.

"Johanna is alive." he told Finnick even though the other victor hadn't asked. "She's being tortured. Peeta too."

Disgust clogged his throat and made him want to throw up or, at least, to wash out the taste with alcohol. That was the reason why you didn't get attached to people. People got hurt and possibly died and you were left with a hole in your heart. It was even worse when you were responsible. Peeta's imprisonment? That was on Haymitch. From start to finish.

As for Johanna… He wished Johanna was in Thirteen. He missed the girl and her constant swearing. She would have taken better care of Finnick than Haymitch did and more importantly, she would have been safe. Johanna reminded him too much of his younger self, a bit like Katniss but not quite. Katniss was too much like his present self already : bitter and selfish. Johanna was all anger, grief and culpability.

"Do you know where they are?" Finnick propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

It was a tricky question and there was no point beating around the proverbial bush. "They can't get them out. Not yet, at least."

Finnick's fingers dug deep into the edge of the mattress but he didn't look surprised. "What about Effie?"

It was like a blow to the chest. He averted his eyes. "I don't think they will hurt Annie much, if it's any consolation. She doesn't know anything and they need information more than revenge for now." It would change though. They would start hurting hostages soon. And then…

"Not what I asked." Finnick retorted. "What happened to Effie?"

"She's just an escort." Haymitch barked back. It was too angry and too raw to sound honest. How many times had he heard those exact words in Coin's mouth those past few weeks? Plutarch was more sympathetic and tried to help when he could but Coin didn't want to hear anything about Effie nor waste any time looking for her. She was just an escort, Coin said, and Haymitch hoped if he repeated the words himself often enough he would start to believe it.

Finnick's face was blank but Haymitch could feel anger radiating from him. "Are you kidding me?"

It was calm, calm enough that others would have mistaken it for disinterest. Haymitch had known him since he was fourteen and he definitely knew better.

"She doesn't count." he insisted. "She's not important."

Lies and lies and more lies, a voice screamed in his head but he ignored it. It was the same voice that had pleaded for him to get her into the hovercraft the last time he had seen her. He had ignored the voice too at the time.

Something hit the mirror, shattering the glass at the point of impact, and bounced back. It rolled up to Haymitch's right knee. It was golden and he didn't need to glance twice at it to know what it was. He reached out before he could think about it and grabbed the bangle. His thumb rubbed the carved flames, feeling the gold underneath. It had been scratched and bumped in the arena.

"You kept that all this time?" Haymitch's voice sounded funny to his own ears. "Why bother? You're in love with her or something?"

It was an old joke between them but it fell flat. Perhaps because they weren't in the penthouse and Chaff wasn't drinking in the corner and laughing at Finnick and Effie flirting just to rile Haymitch up.

"What did you have for a token in your Games?" Finnick's anger had deflated it seemed.

The question was odd enough that Haymitch found himself shrugging. "A ribbon, nothing fancy. My girl's."

"Mags gave me a small cat figurine. Cats are good luck on boats, they eat the rats." Finnick said. "The morning of the Quell's reaping, Annie gave me a necklace with a white shell just in case. I already had my token, I switched for yours."

"Tokens aren't useful." he rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you can get another shell necklace."

"It's not the point." Finnick argued. "Token are reminders of the ones you loved and left behind. It's as if you take a piece of the people you love with you."

"That's awfully romantic." Haymitch deadpanned. "You got a point in there somewhere?"

"Effie gave you a token." the younger victor snapped. "You're not stupid, Haymitch. Do I need to spell it for you?"

Haymitch stared at the spider-web like mark on the mirror. Everything looked distorted, how fitting.

"She was taken two hours after we broke you out of the arena." he muttered. "Then she disappeared. She's not with the others, she's not with the stylists or the prep team. They hadn't made us aware they got her, no threats, no public execution, nothing. None of Plutarch's contacts know where she is. She just… disappeared."

Finnick remained silent for a while but not for long. "Why did you leave her behind? I thought you would bring her here."

"Plutarch said the rebels wouldn't welcome her. He thought she would be safer in the Capitol, he thought her Capitol citizenship would protect her." Haymitch explained. "I agreed."

He had wanted to have her evacuated at first but Plutarch thought that Coin would arrest her the second she stepped on Thirteen's soil, if they didn't outright kill her, and it wasn't that much of a stretch really.

"That's stupid." Finnick declared.

"Yeah." he snorted. "It was. I could have protected her better here. I could have negotiate for her or something." But that had seemed too much of a hassle at the time. Everything had moved too quickly, nothing had gone according to plan and in the last hours there had been no time to think about Effie. He had convinced himself she would be just fine and he had been wrong. Of course he had been wrong. He rubbed his face. "She's probably dead now."

It hurt more than it should. She was just his escort after all, someone with whom he had a tentative and often volatile friendship and whom he was sort of having an affair with. She had feelings for him but he had always been clear on his lack of feelings for her. A bit too clear perhaps. He wished he hadn't said half of the mean things he had told her over the years each time she had ventured to say something about how she felt. He didn't want to hear or talk about love. Love was too fragile a thing to even consider.

Yet, it looked like love had crept around to kick his ass while he was burying his head in the sand.

He wasn't stupid, he had felt love once. He knew what the aching and the moping and the constant thinking about her meant. Those days, he was craving her more than his missing alcohol.

"If she's lucky." Finnick commented darkly. Haymitch was well aware of his opinion on the matter. He would rather Annie was dead than suffering at Snow's hands or being used like a bargain chip. Haymitch wasn't quite that extreme in his views. For all the terrible things that had happened to him, Finnick had never lost anyone. Haymitch knew the sharp pain of loss, he knew the suffocating weight of grief and he'd rather not feel them again. "But what if she's not?"

Haymitch toyed with the bangle. He had been so annoyed when she had so proudly given this monstrosity to him… It was ugly, too flashy, too golden, too… Too Capitol. He had asked her if she knew him at all and she had remained uncharacteristically silent. Now he wondered if it had been her way of giving him a way to remember her by. Effie was too smart, she must have known he had a plan and she must have guessed about the rebels. What he hadn't said openly, she must have suspected.

"Plutarch doesn't know where she is, Coin doesn't want to look." Haymitch told him. Those were excuses of course.

"If you give up on her when she's being tortured, it's on you, Haymitch." Finnick warned.

"Oh, it's on me anyway…" he chuckled bitterly. "Don't you see? This is Snow's idea of a punishment for me. He put the others where he knew we would eventually find them and see what he was doing to them but Effie? He hid her away. He keeps her so well hidden that I have no way of knowing if she's alive or dead, suffering or lazing around in a palace somewhere… It's the not-knowing that gets at you. Imagination is a terrible weapon." He shrugged. "He doesn't take that much of a chance, there had always been rumors about us. Either I care about Effie and I'm too distracted looking for her to be much use to the rebellion or I don't care at all and he only lost an escort they could easily brand a traitor anyway. Bottom line, I won't find her until Snow wants me to."

"You can't give up." Finnick insisted.

Haymitch closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over his body. His head fell back against the mattress. "Of course, I can't. Katniss will kill me if I don't get Peeta back, you will throw a fit if we don't get Annie and I promised Chaff I would keep an eye on Johanna. Besides, you and Katniss are too caught up in your respective tragic love stories to notice that I miss them too."

"I know." Four's victor sighed. "And Katniss knows it too, I think, she's just upset. I know you're not going to give up on them, I meant don't give up on Effie either."

"Not my choice, boy." Haymitch growled. "She's out of reach. She's dead. She has to be or…"

"Or what?" Finnick was being annoying and Haymitch had half a mind to kick him out. But he couldn't. His hands had started to shake and he badly needed a drink he wouldn't find in this place. Those kind of moments left him weak and pathetic. There was no way he could force his friend to leave the room.

"Or it will drive me crazy." Haymitch finally snapped.

Finnick met his eyes in the mirror, just over the crack. "Chaff is dead, Jo and Effie are lost, we're the only ones left. We can't give up on them. Chaff wouldn't want us to give up on them."

"Chaff never liked Effie." he grumbled. "He would probably tell me it's good riddance."

Haymitch had gone numb as far as Chaff was concerned. There was only so much grief you could take at once and Effie's had taken precedence. There would be time to mourn later. Or perhaps there wouldn't be because he would be dead. He wondered how worrying it was that the latest option was more appealing than the first.

"Chaff liked Effie." Finnick objected. "He didn't like that you were in love."

It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head.

"Who said anything about being in love?" he snarled "What Effie felt was her problem. I've never been…"

"You thought it was dangerous to get too close to her, I get it but it's too late now." Finnick interrupted him. "Everybody with eyes could see what was going on."

"We fucked." he spat, finally confessing a secret Chaff and Finnick had tried to pried from him for years. Johanna had never really joined in that game. She disapproved even more than Chaff did but not for the same reasons. Chaff was simply concerned about Effie being used against Haymitch, Johanna despised the very idea of sleeping with the enemy even if she tolerated Effie more than any other Capitol woman. "We were fuck-buddies. That's all it was."

"Fuck-buddies don't touch whenever they can, they don't do long and meaningful eye-staring and they certainly don't get jealous each time someone of the opposite sex gets too close. Trust me, I know the difference, I've made a career of it." Finnick's voice was half mocking and half bitter.

Haymitch didn't answer. There was nothing to answer to that. He busied himself with turning the bangle over and over again.

"I used to be jealous of you, you know." Finnick confessed. Haymitch glanced at him but he was looking in the distance with that sad little face that meant he was thinking about Annie. "Each year she was so eager to help you in any way she could… She did your job, she took the fall for you, so many times. She loved you despite all your flaws, despite everything you threw at her, despite your quirks, despite your nastiness, despite the fact that you were broken probably beyond repair… She always came back and you took her for granted. I resented you for that."

"Yeah, well… You also had a crush on her the size of District Two since you were fourteen so…" Haymitch gritted his teeth.

"She's a good woman and you're a lucky man who doesn't realize just how lucky he is." Finnick snapped.

"I didn't deserve her, is that what you want to hear?" he grunted. "Flash news, Finnick, she's done awful things too and she didn't deserve me either so maybe we did in fact deserve each other. She was hell personified and I'm sure she would have said the same about me. We hated each other. We hated each other so that shouldn't hurt so fucking much!"

"Stop talking about her in past tense." Finnick's voice was threatening but Haymitch was done playing nice.

"I will talk about her how I please." Haymitch slipped on the bangle without even thinking about it and stood up with some difficulties. "She's mine to talk about, not yours. Go and lament about Annie to someone else."

Finnick didn't move from his seat on the bed. "Don't you see the parallels, here?"

"No, I don't." Haymitch replied. "Effie and me are nothing like you and Annie."

"Clearly." Finnick growled. "I would never give up on her if I had a chance to save her."

Haymitch didn't bother with a reply. He walked to the door and opened it wide. "Get out of here." What was the use of explaining? Finnick would never get it. Or perhaps he was getting it a little too well. Haymitch was a broken man and there was nothing as wrecking as hope. He couldn't let himself hope about getting Effie back, if she really was dead it would kill him and his kids needed him.

Finnick didn't try to argue, he walked out obviously angry. It was of no consequence. It wasn't their first fight and it probably wouldn't be their last. Half-hearted apologies and tentative small talk would come later, for now Haymitch was happy to slam the door behind him.

He sat back down on the floor next to the bed but, this time, he didn't look at his reflection, he was staring hard at the golden bangle circling his wrist like a manacle. He should have gotten her a matching one. A token of sort.