This isn't a prompt (and here I hear people saying that with more than 60 waiting I should just write prompts already XD) but it was stuck into my head so here… It takes place at the end of MJ.

The Price of Victory

Haymitch didn't know how he ended up in Effie's hospital room. He remembered walking along the corridors of Thirteen without any particular destination in mind and the next thing he knew he was there. The room was just as grey as the rest of the District, the only other color was the white of the bed sheets, even her hair looked white under the bright neon lights.

She turned her head away as soon as he closed the door behind him. It was as if the mere act of looking at him was too much for her. "I told you I didn't want you here." she spat. "I don't need you."

"Yeah, but I do." he shrugged. He grabbed a chair and dragged it closer to the bed, its legs scraped against the floor. It made her frown but still she stared at the wall rather than at him. He sat closer to the bed than he probably ought to. Since her rescue, she had been very clear and vocal about what he could do with his offer for help. It was selfish to come in there and expect her friendship when his own actions had resulted in her capture and subsequent tortures. Haymitch was selfish though and there was nowhere else to go, no one else to talk to. "We won."

Coin and Plutarch were already on a hovercraft on its way to the Capitol with almost all the rebels' leaders. Haymitch had refused to go with them, there was another hovercraft scheduled to leave later that night with the remaining victors and more medical staff. Plutarch had promised he would look after Katniss and Peeta. Haymitch didn't quite trust him but there was nothing else he could do for now. Peeta had been whisked away by Coin's lapdogs and Katniss as far as he knew was still in surgery.

"Am I supposed to offer my congratulations?" Effie snapped. "You will excuse me, I don't know who I'm rooting for anymore."

He laughed. It was a short and sad kind of laugh, a bit broken maybe. At least, it forced her to finally glance at him. He was staring at his fists but he knew all she needed was one peek at the way he was hunched over, his hands on her mattress and head bent to understand something was wrong. She knew him too well not to notice but perhaps she wouldn't care. It was a new world after all and in this world Effie Trinket wasn't his bubbly cheerful escort anymore but a shell of a woman who was desperately trying to pretend she was still the same even though everyone could see the changes. They had patched her up, healed the broken bones, covered the bruises, hidden the most obvious scars but the damage was there, plain for anyone who knew her. There was something missing in her eyes, as if a light had been stifled.

"The children…" she breathed out abruptly.

She meant Katniss and Peeta but the word still made him close his eyes. He couldn't forget the images of what he had seen earlier, it was seared on his eyelids, too terrible to be even conceived. "They're alive, both of them." he forced himself to say. "Finnick isn't."

She let out something that sounded like a whine but she took a series of deep breaths through her mouth. He had been expecting sobs over that news, all he got was blank staring at the wall and a tense jaw as if she was bracing herself for more pain. He supposed she was used to that now.

He still wasn't.

He propped his elbows on the bed and pressed his fist into his eyes, hoping it would either stop the tremor or at least chase the memories away. It did neither so he pressed harder to the point of pain.

"What else? Tell me." she requested quietly, apparently forgetting she didn't want him in there. He felt her hand brushing his wrist tentatively and, when he didn't react, coiling more firmly around it. She tried to tug his hand away from his face but she was as weak as a kitten still. It would take time before she regained her strength.

"Effie…" It was a plea but he didn't know what he wanted her to do. Erase his newly acquired knowledge maybe or the foul taste it left in his mouth…

"Tell me." Her thumb ran up and down his wrist.

He told her.

He told her about following Coin and Plutarch out of the war room, about the order he wasn't supposed to hear, about how he had misunderstood the command, about the bombs that fell on children and killed them all, about Prim and Katniss, about the price to pay for victory.

"There's no winning." he concluded with a snort. "Funny how you would expect me to have learned that a long time ago." Her hand left his wrist for his hair. It was dirty, too long and he hadn't bother to take care of it since the start of the rebellion, yet she still combed it patiently and soothingly. "It was supposed to be over." He finally placed his fists back on the bed, his hands were starting to cramp but he welcomed the pain, he squeezed harder. "I only wanted people to be safe. I didn't want any more kids to…" He fell silent, the lump in his throat too big to be swallowed back down. To his utter shame, his sight blurred and he felt hot tears burning his eyes.

"I know." she whispered. He probably would have laughed and talked down anyone else who had dared claim knowledge of his pain but it was Effie and she had been standing next to him for thirteen years while they lost tribute after tribute. She did know.

Slowly, almost afraid she would push him away, he bent until his face was buried in her stomach. It hid the lonely tears that he couldn't quite keep in. His breathing was quick but he tried to control it, to bury this moment of weakness as deep as he had buried his sorrow after his family had passed away. He failed. Perhaps, there were too many bad memories to add more. Perhaps, he had finally reached his limit.

"It wasn't your fault, Haymitch." She continued petting his hair. "None of it."

"I should have protected you better." he mumbled. "I thought you would be safer in the Capitol. I swear. If I had thought…"

"I believe you." she interrupted him quickly. She was tense like she had been each time what happened to her was mentioned.

"Forgive me." he begged and, for that, he wasn't ashamed. "Please, sweetheart… Forgive me."

"I've always forgiven you everything you did since we've met, and you did plenty over the years, I would have murdered anyone else." she sighed. "I think it's a safe bet to conclude I will even forgive you this eventually."

He turned his head so he could look at her. It was a weird position, his cheek on her stomach, an uncomfortable one too but he didn't want to move. He wasn't lying when he had said he needed her. "I have to go to the Capitol, they will probably ship you too later. Coin thinks I follow her orders better when you're under threat." He probably should have kept that to himself. She didn't look scared though, she was probably past being scared. "'Could be worse, I suppose. There will be booze in the Capitol. I need a drink, it's overdue."

"You are exhausted." She clucked her tongue in disapproval. "What you need is sleep."

"That goes hand in hand with the booze." he snorted.

She pinched her mouth in a thin line and then tugged on his arm. "You need to rest." He only understood what she wanted when she scooted over to the very edge of her bed. It was a stupid idea. The bed was narrow and very obviously designed for a single person. He still followed her lead and laid down next to her, on his side, facing her. He wasn't sure he had ever been that close to her.

"How weird is it that we're all each other has left?" he asked, committing her bare face to memory. He knew the escort's face by heart but not Effie's. There were small lines at the corner of her eyes, very thin but still there, the hint of an old faded tiny scar on her chin, and, of course, the shape of her mouth that looked slightly different without her lipstick.

"We still have the children." she pointed out. She placed her hand on his jaw, he heard her broken nails scraping against his unkempt beard. "You badly need a shave."

He did but he had always found reasons to push it back. He wasn't entirely convinced he could hold a razor without accidentally slitting his own throat. He had troubles picking up objects without dropping them those days.

"I don't know if they will come back from this." Peeta was more likely to recover than Katniss at that point and it was already really uncertain. "I don't know if you will. I'm pretty sure I won't."

"We will." she promised. "All of us. We will."

He wanted to believe her so badly but even though he was longing to he couldn't make himself pretend. There was no coming back, he knew that as well as the next victor.

"They're the same, you know." He crept closer until he could press his forehead against hers. He didn't have to go far, a few inches at best. He needed to touch her, he needed to be sure she was real. "Coin and Snow… How long do you think before they launch a brand new series of Hunger Games? Plutarch won't stop her."

"You will." Her voice was soft but certain. "You will find a way, you always do."

He brushed her hair away from her face, his hand naturally went to cup her cheek. She rested her own hand on his arms to hold him in place. "Since when do you have so much faith in me, sweetheart?"

"I've always had faith in you." Her fingertips drew silly patterns on his skin. "Even when…" She closed her eyes and licked her lips. It took a few seconds before she was able talk again. "I always have faith in you. I trust you despite everything and my best judgment."

"I want to kiss you." He didn't know why he blurted that out but he realized he really wanted to. It seemed natural even.

"That wouldn't be very wise." she admonished him "It would be, in fact, a terrible idea."

"Still the best I had all day." he chuckled. He brushed his lips against hers tentatively. She didn't move away so he kissed her a little more firmly. It was slow and a bit lazy but in a good way. Her legs slipped between his and he deepened the kiss even more. Nothing serious would happen there and they were both aware of it but they still made out like idiotic teenagers until a soldier knocked on the door and then fake-coughed until Haymitch stop what he was doing to glare at him. Effie was obviously torn between giggling and dying of embarrassment.

"Sorry to interrupt, Sir." The soldier looked more amused than sorry in his opinion. "The hovercraft is about to leave."

"Don't let her win." she whispered, after he had kissed her one last time.

He wouldn't.

Coin wasn't going to be the new Snow, he vowed it.

Whatever it took to take her down before it was too late, he would do it.