Prompt : I was wondering if you could make one where President Snow find out about them and speaks to Effie and tells her she can't speak to Haymitch anymore. Then Haymitch gets really confused and angry and Effie feels horrible. If you can please write a one - shot about that it would be great! :D
I'm not sure that's what you wanted, I twisted the prompt a bit. Special thanks to Akachan who helped me make this readable.
White Roses
Haymitch had been dreading Victory Tour since the kids won the Games but some things, he mused as he watched Effie touring the room while giving her last instructions before they all went to bed, would be worthwhile.
The white powder fashion had apparently come and gone and he wasn't sorry to see it go. Now, her skin was still pale but a lot less, it was more natural and he liked it better that way. The blue dress too was a vast improvement. It was obviously Cinna's or Portia's creation – since they were their official stylists, she would have to wear their designs more often than not – and even though it had its mandatory ridiculous feathers and lace, it actually looked less ridiculous than the huge snowflake-dress she had arrived in. He didn't know what fabric the dress was made off but it kept shimmering under the light giving the impression that she was draped in running water. The light green wig on her head was made of a ridiculously large amount of small braids and pinned high on her head in an equally ridiculously high bun.
He wasn't actually interested in what she was saying and he didn't even pretend to be listening which owed him several pointed glances from Portia and Peeta. He was too busy watching her endless legs stride one way and the other as she recited her list of Things-To-Never-Do. It had been months since he last saw her but he was still surprised to find himself almost aroused by the mere sight of her. He usually went a whole year without her and his liquor was replacement enough. He buried that particular thought: Effie was supposed to be the replacement when he needed to stay partly sober for the Games, not the other way around. Meaningless sex was just that.
And the fact that he really wanted to have meaningless sex right at that very second was irrelevant.
She finally sat down and stopped showing her tantalizing legs but it wasn't much better. She kept laughing and turning her head this way and that as she talked to the others and her slender neck became the new object of his fancy.
"What do you say, Haymitch?"
Cinna's voice startled him back into the conversation and he gave an unconvincing answer, drinking from the glass of whiskey forgotten in his hand. He didn't think he fooled anyone except perhaps the kids. The stylists exchanged an amused glance but Effie didn't look his way. She was probably annoyed at some thing or another. They had left Twelve six hours ago so he almost certainly had breached at least forty rules of proper conduct by now.
They were all talking about Eleven and what to expect there. Haymitch despised small talk so it was no wonder his eyes went back to Effie once more. She must have felt his stare because she nervously sipped down more wine than he was sure was proper to swallow in one go.
"Do you like Effie's dress, Haymitch?" There was a hint of a teasing smile on Portia's otherwise innocent face.
He opened his mouth to say something properly scandalous that would shock the escort into a sputtering mess when she placed her glass down on the coffee table abruptly.
"Haymitch has no taste for fashion." she said in a cold voice. "Do not engage him on the subject, dear, you are likely to see your work insulted."
There was a second of shocked silence and then they all hurried to tell her how good she looked and how beautiful the dress was, all the while glaring at Haymitch as if he had done something to upset her. If he had, he wasn't aware of it which made him frown. He was fairly sure he had mocked her snowflake dress but he hadn't been too mean and it certainly hadn't been anything she wasn't used to coming from him.
The frown didn't leave his face as the conversation went on to other subjects. Cinna was the first to excuse himself, explaining that he wanted to have a look at some of Katniss' dresses before bed and Portia followed him to help. The kids declared they were going to bed as well and Effie left too without any explanation for him. He caught her eyes at one point and lifted an eyebrow in a silent question but she only looked away and hurried after their victors.
She would come back, he was sure. She would come back as soon as she was sure the rest of the train was asleep.
So he poured himself another drink and waited, careful not to drink too much. He waited for what felt like hours, eyes riveted on the wall, certain she would come. Why wouldn't she? If he had missed her despite the fact that it had never been anything more than sex for him, she surely had missed him even more – it was no secret to him she had troubles keeping her growing feelings out of their affair.
When it was clear she had no intention to show up, he snatched a bottle of wine and went to his room. No point in not getting drunk, then.
The persistent knocking on his door prevented him from actually finishing the bottle. He let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding and opened the door with a smirk, intending to ask her why she had been such a bitch all night. The smirk turned to a scowl when he saw Katniss in her pajamas and dressing gown.
He wasn't particularly surprised by what she had to say nor by the fact that she thought the train was bugged. The train was always bugged and he always searched his room as soon as he came on board. As far as he could tell, his room was clean. He had removed the bug under the lamp post and the one hidden behind a drawer although it was probably better to keep that detail to himself. He always destroyed the bugs in his room and they always got more creative each year but if someone else started to hunt for their spying devices, they could get suspicious.
He wondered, for a brief second, if that was the reason why Effie had been acting so cold but he dismissed it. There had always been bugs not only on the train but in the penthouse, her room wasn't exempt of them, she knew it, and that had never stopped her from inviting him into her bed. Sex was just sex and Haymitch had been careful to state repeatedly that it was all he wanted from her, she would be alright as long as they thought he didn't care for her – not that he did. Nothing had changed. It couldn't be the reason. Perhaps she had just not been in the mood…
There were more important things to worry about anyway. Katniss and Peeta had better be very convincing during the Tour…
He skipped breakfast but tried to find Effie while the kids were being prepped. She had mentioned cards she had written for them and he needed to read them before they went on stage. With his luck, his escort remained nowhere to be found – a feat in a train that wasn't that big to begin with. He couldn't get a hold of her before lunch when everyone was already gathered in the room; he finally trapped her between the window and the soup tureen that was waiting to be served on a small wheeled cart. She readily agreed to show him the speeches she had prepared but she didn't meet his eyes.
Then someone came to announce an hour delay with the train and the lunch was thrown upside down as an already sullen Katniss screamed at Effie's head that no one cared about her schedule before storming off. Haymitch winced and stopped trying to stuff down a muffin to calm his squirming stomach.
"Sweetheart…" he started only to be greeted with a cold look.
"I have a name, please, do try and remember to use it." Effie delicately dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, folded it and then placed it next to her plate.
"Don't you dare leave this table." Haymitch growled, fed up with her whole attitude.
Peeta excused himself quicker than could be believed with a muttered explanation about finding Katniss. Cinna suddenly remembered something that couldn't wait and asked Portia to come with him for a few minutes. To Effie's obvious displeasure, they were left alone. He waved away the Avoxes when she left her place to stand by the window. There was nothing much to see outside.
"What's going on?" he asked quietly before joining her.
"You shouldn't let her talk to me like that." she snapped. "It's improper, not to mention bad manners and…"
"Katniss isn't the problem." he interrupted her. He brushed hesitant fingers against her cheek, she closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. "Effie, what's going on with you?" He let his fingers trail down her throat and all the way to her nape. She didn't resist when he coiled his hand behind her neck but she didn't open her eyes either. He still kissed her and she kissed him back but then she pushed him away, looking around with frantic eyes. "Nobody's here." he whispered.
"There's always someone here." she murmured back and gently untangled his hand from her neck. Next thing he knew, she was sitting at the table again and waved at him to take his place, all the while talking too loud about how delicious the soup was and why he should give up his half-eaten muffin for real food. She was still praising its merits when the stylist came back and the lunch resumed toppled by an overdone apology from Katniss.
The stop in Eleven was a huge catastrophe that left Haymitch fuming for different reasons. First and foremost at the unnecessary violence, then at Katniss' incapacity to stay on script and, last but certainly not least, at the certainty that even if they got more creative and convincing, they would fail. The Districts were in uproar and Snow wouldn't smother that with lovey-dovey teenagers on a screen.
Effie joined him in the living-room, after everyone else had gone to bed, with the rest of the speeches she had written. They reviewed them and worked on them without much talking – they had worked together for so long they hardly needed to speak. It was a long and unpleasant task that made Haymitch's stomach churn. He didn't want to be writing speeches praising the imaginary beauty of Panem and the non-existent generosity of the Capitol but what choice did he have? He laid low on the alcohol too, they needed him focused and not drunk. When they were done and all the cards were nothing more than a hypocritical propaganda, he slumped against the back of the couch, an arm on his eyes to block out the light, and wondered if anyone would care if he slept until they reached Nine two days later.
He was surprised to feel a tentative hand removing his arm and placing it around bony shoulders. Effie snuggled up against him and he realized she was shaking. Her little story about Peacekeepers poking her with a gun had a ring of truth to it he hadn't liked one bit earlier.
"You're okay, sweetheart?" he asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time since the train left Twelve.
"No." she offered, leaving her bubbly alter-ego behind. "No, I am not."
The feather of her dress tickled his nose when he pressed a soft kiss on her neck, she bolted upright as if the contact had burned her.
"Effie…" he frowned. It wasn't the first odd reaction she had showed that day. She had clutched to him in fright when the echo of the first gunshot had rung out earlier but she had retreated when he had tried to steal a kiss before they even reached Eleven.
"It's late." The fake cheerfulness was back in her voice. "I should go to bed. We have a big big big day tomorrow."
She was gone before he could remind her that tomorrow would be nothing but a day long of train ride. Although… He was sure she had planned some coaching for the kids. Her schedule was always full.
Her weird behavior only increased with each passing day. He was sure she was avoiding him. He could never catch her alone – when she wasn't with the kids, she was shadowing Portia or finding a problem that needed her attention at the other end of the train – and when he managed to find her she always gave in to his attempts at kissing or touching her only to flee the next second.
Victory Tour was getting worse with each District they reached, he couldn't drink as much as he wanted to and she wasn't forthcoming with other distractions so Haymitch was getting frustrated. It would have been easier if she had simply said no or had given him an explanation but she did neither and left him in an awful uncertainty until he couldn't take it anymore.
Getting drunk and hammering on her door at three in the morning was a mistake, even in his drunken haze he was aware of it. He made such a racket that doors opened – but not Effie's even though he knew she was in there – and, soon enough, Cinna was dragging him back to his room. Haymitch still had time to see Effie letting Portia in.
When Cinna asked what was going on with him, he said he didn't know because that was the truth. He missed Effie and it was starting to scare him. He missed her body, he missed the smell of her stupid shampoo, he missed her real smiles, he missed her laugh on the rare times when they lingered in bed…
The next day, he cornered Portia in the wardrobe cart while she was putting the last touch to one of Peeta's suit. He didn't think they would have bothered bugging this part of the train – no point when it was just supposed to be a stocking cart. The stylist glared at him as soon as she saw him.
"I don't know what you did, Haymitch." she hissed with an accusing finger pointed at his chest. "But you better fix it. I don't particularly enjoy seeing my friends weep for a whole night."
"Weep?" he frowned. "She was crying? What's wrong with her?"
Portia didn't sympathize with his obvious confusion. "You, as far as I can tell."
"It can't be me." he scowled. "I've barely been alone with her since the beginning of the Tour. She's avoiding me."
"I don't care." Portia shrugged. "Whatever you did, fix it." She left in a huff before he could add more.
Effie was very careful not to meet his eyes all day. Haymitch decided he hadn't done anything wrong and she was just being her annoying self so he focused back on the kids. Trying to explain to Katniss that she wasn't looking at Peeta like someone who was in love with him was a lot less harder than actually explaining how people who were in love looked at each other. Effie's help wasn't forthcoming and he carefully didn't notice the way they kept glancing at each other in the precise way he was trying to coach Katniss to do. There was no love between him and Effie. None whatsoever.
Shit really hit the fan in Six.
They managed to keep it from the kids but while they were whisked away on the upper floors of the Mayor's house to change clothes for dinner, there was a series of very public executions in the Square. Cinna and Portia had disappeared to help the victors get ready and if he judged by the loud music coming from upstairs, trying hard to keep the kids in the dark as to what was happening outside. Haymitch and Effie had been asked – or rather ordered – to wait in the small library. They jumped each time a gunshot rang. Haymitch counted five.
"Don't look." Haymitch told her when she wandered close to the window. He was nursing a drink, his third in the fifteen minutes they had spent in the room, it wasn't enough to make him deaf unfortunately.
She looked anyway and averted her eyes just as fast. When she spoke her voice was flat as it always was when they were alone those days. "They are criminals or they wouldn't be executed."
His first instinct was to get mad at her but then he realized there was no point because she wouldn't understand it and she would probably blame it on alcohol. Disgust and disappointment churned in his stomach. "Do you really think so, sweetheart?"
She looked at him before her eyes darted away. "I do." It was punctuated by a sixth gunshot.
"Good for you." he spat before making free use of the bottle of fine whiskey left on a table. Surely, the mayor wouldn't mind and if he did… Well, too bad. Never lock a drunkard with a bottle if you didn't want him to drink it. He felt her staring as he downed one glass and then another in quick succession.
"Aren't they lovely?" she asked. He barely glanced at the flowers she was pointing out. "White roses are quite the trend lately."
He froze, his lips barely grazing the whiskey, and then put the glass down. The flowers in the vase weren't white rose but white lilies and she was looking at him with too much despair for it to be a mistake. She looked tired all of a sudden, as if she had finally let down her mask. He was sure that under the make-up, he would find dark bags under her eyes.
As for white roses… It was a trademark signature. She was talking about Snow.
"Are they?" He was careful to keep his voice bored in case they were listened to.
"Yes." She sounded cheerful and just as oblivious as she always did in public but her face didn't match. "I see them everywhere."
Another gunshot startled her and she closed her eyes for the longest time. Haymitch didn't intend to let her off the hook, though, not now that they were finally getting somewhere. "I'm not a big fan of roses."
Her lips stretched in a small smile that had no place on her mouth. It was so bitter it was almost a sneer. "No, you wouldn't be."
"Are you?" he insisted.
"I can't abide the smell." she replied, turning away from him. "However, what fashion requires must be endured."
He would have probed her further if the door hadn't opened violently on a less than friendly Peacekeeper who told them he would escort them to dinner. Haymitch made sure to stay between Effie and the soldier. It was on the tip of his tongue to remark the man should probably wipe the blood away from his shoes but he held his sarcastic nature in check for once.
Dinner was a tense and awkward affair despite Effie and the stylists best attempts at conversation. Everybody was in a bad mood by the time they were allowed to walk back to the train station and nobody lingered in the living-room cart like they were used to do. The kids and the stylists headed straight to bed, Haymitch grabbed Effie when she passed by and pushed her in his room, ignoring her distressed yelp.
"We need to talk." he started without bothering with niceties. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
Her blue eyes darted in fright all around his room and next thing he knew, she was kissing him like he had wanted her to kiss him since day one of this Victory Tour of hell. It was deep and painfully slow and he forgot, for a few seconds, why he had to push her away. He did manage to grab her shoulders and held her at arm length though but she didn't seem pleased about it. "Talk first, sweetheart."
A worried line creased her forehead. He swallowed back his joke about her getting wrinkles, however, when she started unbuckling his belt without any explanations. "There are funnier things to do. We don't need to talk."
He grabbed her wrists, a bit stunned at her sudden willingness to do something she had been avoiding like the plague for days. "Oh, yeah, we do." She tried to struggle free but he held on. "Effie."
She stopped fighting him and let out a long breath, then she rested her forehead on his shoulder and sneaked her arms around his waist tentatively. Her hold was loose as if she was unsure of the way he would react. Haymitch was a lot firmer in his embrace and she finally relaxed against him. "I should go back to my room."
"Not before you tell me what's wrong with you." he grumbled. "Did someone threaten you? Did Snow threaten you?"
She tensed so fast he didn't even have time to brace himself before she stepped out of his arms and against the wall. She looked scared out of her skin, eyes roaming all around the room as if she expected Peacekeepers or even Snow himself to crawl out from under the bed.
"Don't be ridiculous, Haymitch." She forced a laugh that sounded awfully fake even for her. "Why would President Snow threaten me? He is a very important man with a very important job who…"
"My room isn't bugged." he cut her off before she could launch on a speech to Snow's glory. He wasn't in the mood for that. She stared at him and then very slowly nodded yes. He rolled his eyes. "No, it's not, sweetheart. I'm sure." She didn't believe him until he showed her Wiress' little gift, a small device that was flashing white light when there were bugs in a room. He had to demonstrate by taking the gadget to the train corridor where it started flashing like a Christmas tree. "Satisfied?" he asked when the door was closed again.
It was like turning off a switch.
She collapsed on the foot of the bed like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, she hunched over her knees and buried her face in her hands.
Of course, he had seen her lose it like that a few times along the years – even Effie Trinket couldn't be at her best every day over almost thirteen years of working together – but it still left him unsettled and with something unpleasant twisting in his guts. It wasn't right. It didn't feel right.
He sat down next to her and placed a hand on her back but she didn't move even when he started rubbing soothing – albeit awkward – circles. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you need to get it together and tell me." Because she was seriously starting to freak him out…
He heard her take a few deep breaths and then she straightened. Her eyes were bright but there was no trace of tears on her cheeks, still she looked at him with uncharacteristic anguish.
"The day before I left for Twelve, President Snow paid me a visit at my apartment." Her voice quivered with a mixture of fear and anger. "He told me he was aware of our affair but didn't doubt I was misguided by your… I believed he called it 'rugged charm'." She chuckled but it wasn't really amused. "He must not know you well at all to think you have anything remotely close to charm."
"I can be charming when I want to, sweetheart." he winked. "I just don't bother with you." She didn't answer and she carefully didn't look at him, probably because for all her denying she must have known it was the truth. "What did he want?"
She shrugged. The action was so un-Effie, Haymitch frowned.
"He wanted me to pledge myself to the Capitol." she whispered. "He wanted me to swear my heart and my head were still on the right side of the fence."
"Tell me you did it." he almost begged.
"Of course, I did it." she scowled, glaring at him. "Did I have another choice?"
"Not if you want to keep your pretty head on your pretty shoulders." he joked but it fell flat. He wanted another drink. "So what? You're not allowed to talk to me or have sex with me anymore? Is that what this is about?"
That would explain why she always gave in a little before storming off. It would make sense too for Snow to want someone on his side in the Twelve's Games team, someone they already trusted and wouldn't question. It would also make sense for that person to earn Snow's trust by not sleeping with the old rebellious victor who created the star-crossed lovers story that was a thorn in the President's side.Katniss had lighted a spark but Haymitch had handed her the matches.
Effie's laughter took him aback. It wasn't a gleeful laugh even if it rang true, it was a nasty one, bitter in all the wrong ways, almost hysterical, definitely the crazy kind. How long had she been rummaging this on her own?
"Oh, I am allowed to have sex with you." she finally explained when her laughter died down. "I have been instructed to have sex with you."
"What?" he frowned.
"President Snow seems to think you might confide eventual plans for a nation-wide insurrection to me and that it is more likely to happen in bed." She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. "I am to report your intentions at the end of the Tour."
"I don't confide in anybody." Haymitch snorted. "Snow knows that."
"But you do." she sighed. "Sometimes when you're drunk you… You talk to me, Haymitch. You tell me things… You wish for things… Things they probably already know but that I ought to report. I didn't and they know it." In other words, his drunken brain had babbled to her about his hatred for the Capitol and possible ideas for rebellion. Wasn't it just awesome... "I didn't want to…" She averted her eyes and swallowed back some obvious tears. "I didn't want to betray your trust so I thought I should stay away from you but I miss you and everything is such a… such a…"
"Fucking mess?" he suggested.
"Yes." Her blue eyes were pleading for him to understand. "The Tour, the Districts, the children and staying away from you when all I want to do is…" She stopped and let out another sigh. "I'm exhausted and I need you."
"We're all exhausted." he commented, standing up to study the bottles left on the dresser. Lots of them were empty but he managed to find one that still had some wine in it. It was sticky but he still took a gulp, ignoring the way she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You went about this all wrong, sweetheart." There was only one good thing he was still good at and that was planning. "You're acting suspicious by avoiding me, that's not good."
"I can't risk you telling me anything. I can't lie to them and even if I did… Too many people are disappearing as it is in the Capitol… I don't think I could keep your secrets even if I wanted to." she insisted, rubbing her face. She remembered her make-up too late and looked at the dark and golden traces on her hand in dismay. "Is the bathroom under surveillance?"
"No, go ahead." he waved. He followed her though and watched as she carefully removed the fake eyelashes and used a cloth from the cupboard to clean her make-up. She didn't have any of the fancy products that colonized every available surface in her own bathroom but she made-do with water and soap. "You can stop avoiding me, there is nothing to tell." he shrugged, drinking the last of the bottle of wine before placing it on the floor, it owed him a frown for littering even more but he didn't mind nor care. "If and when there are reasons to, I will do the avoiding. You're going to stop acting skittish around me and go back to normal. When they ask, you will tell them whatever they want to know: right now, all I'm trying to do is protect Katniss and Peeta and that doesn't go hand in hand with a rebellion. Earn their trust, make them think they won you over. Whatever you have to do to stay safe, you do it, sweetheart. If it comes to a point when you have to choose between me and you, you save yourself."
"I don't want to betray you." she whispered, dabbing at her face with a clean towel. When she looked at him next, her face was bare of make-up and he was just as surprised as he always was to find it so different : she looked younger and softer, more innocent.
"It's not your job to protect me." He was stern but she only smiled like she knew something he did not.
"It has always been my job to protect you…" She placed the towel carefully on the rack, clucked her tongue disapprovingly at the mess of damp towels on the floor and finally turned to him again. She bit her lower lip uncertainly but then took a bold step forward. "Could we sleep together tonight?"
He lifted a surprised eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. He wasn't opposed to the idea precisely but she looked ready to keel over and die and he was exhausted, a bit drunk too.
A slow blush flushed her cheeks and spread all the way to her neck and he forgot he was tired.
"I don't mean…" she stammered, putting an end to his fantasy before he could even begin to entertain it. "I mean just… sleep."
It was probably telling that she was so insecure about asking for a simple thing like the right to sleep in his bed when nothing related to sex could elicit an embarrassed blush from her – and he had tried. Either she said yes or she said no but there was no taboos where sex was concerned whereas coaxing her into removing her wig and make-up had taken years. The wig was the worst, she hated her hair and she didn't understand why he liked it so much. He, on the other hand, loved her reddish – even if she insisted it was blond – curls and couldn't understand why she would hide it under a ridiculous wig.
"You want to sleep in my smelly room full of garbage?" he snorted. "That's a first."
Not that they were used to consciously fall asleep in the same bed either. It had happened a few times but always by accident. Luckily for her, she was a light sleeper and she knew to get away from him when nightmares kicked in.
"A perfectly valid point." She marched back into the bedroom to inspect the sheets and didn't seem impressed by what she saw. Haymitch had forbidden Avoxes and Capitol attendants alike to enter his room so he wasn't very surprised the cleaning wasn't up to her standards. She didn't even try to hide her cringing. "Should we go to mine?"
He didn't like sleeping with someone else as she was perfectly aware, probably the reason why she kept her eyes on the floor rather than looking at him. As for willingly sleeping with her without sleeping with her, it was a dangerous precedent to make. Yet he found that he didn't want to refuse her. He had missed her. And maybe she wasn't the one who needed the other. "Give me a minute."
Her smile was bright when she left. A minute turned into ten though : the time to put some sweat pants on and to find another glass of whiskey for the night. She was already in bed when he joined her in her bedroom, careful not to alert anyone else on this part of the train. He climbed in bed without thinking twice about it and she turned off the lights. There was a mix of relief and despair in the way she clung to him next as they tried to find a comfortable position in which to sleep.
This was different and unfamiliar and Haymitch wasn't sure he liked it until she settled with her head on his shoulder, her leg hooked over his and an arm on his chest. He didn't know if she wanted to prevent an eventual escape but he doubted he could have gone anywhere without her knowing about it. Still, he wrapped his own arms around her, dropped a kiss on her head because it seemed like the thing to do and tried to relax.
"Goodnight." she whispered, half-asleep already.
His only answer was to kiss her hair again.