Prompt: Hi there! Had a lovely summer reading your fanfics which I absolutely adore! Thank u for creating an undeniable dynamic between Hayffie and amusing my little fangirling heart! If you could kindly take this prompt, I might cry: Could you please write a fanfic about the team -Katniss, Peeta, Effie, Haymitch etc.- playing the 'what if' game; preferably in the 75th hunger games era to ease off all of their worries and Haymitch discovers that he would be hopeless without Effie if he hadn't met her. X

I couldn't find a way to make this prompt work because I couldn't see them playing like that in 75th or even playing that at all… So… I kept the "what if" idea, or I tried to but I moved it after MJ and I angsted it. I hope it's still okay =)

What If

"I heard from Plutarch." Peeta said out of the blue, one night.

Haymitch opened a heavy eyelid and turned his head to look at the boy sitting on the couch, his bottle of liquor dangling dangerously from the tip of his fingers. Katniss, glanced over her shoulder from her position on the floor, next to the fireplace. If Peeta had wanted to catch their attention, he certainly succeeded.

"What did he want?" he slurred, his brain desperately trying to conjure away the large amount of alcohol he had that night. Messages from Plutarch were never a good thing, that was why Haymitch had stopped answering him months earlier. The former Gamemaker turned Secretary of Communications always wanted interviews or public appearances. Haymitch's phone was now working again – Katniss hadn't left him any choice on the matter – but it was perpetually unhooked.

"He said Effie isn't doing so great." the boy said with extreme caution.

Katniss immediately lost interest in the discussion and went back to watching the flames. You would think she would have had enough of fire for the rest of her life but she still lived to her nickname even two years after the rebellion.

Haymitch remained silent. Effie… Effie wasn't something he liked to consider. They had parted on neutral terms but there had been anger and resentment on her side, he hadn't needed her to put it into words for him to understand. She blamed him for leaving her behind and he couldn't argue with that.

"She's Effie." Katniss said, at last, when no one else filled the silence. "She will go back to being the Capitol darling before long."

"She's the last escort alive…" Peeta cleared his throat. "People from the District don't forgive that and Capitol people… They see her as a traitor. She has troubles adjusting. Plutarch says she doesn't have a job and she's living in a…"

"She will write a book out of it." Haymitch interrupted him, taking a swing off his bottle only to find it empty. He had difficulties pretending it was the lack of alcohol that truly annoyed him. "She will make a ton of money. She always had a knack for landing back on her feet."

It was an empty wish and if he judged by Peeta's sullen face, it was also an unwelcome one. Rude. He could practically hear her voice.

"I said we would help." Peeta announced.

"Why?" Katniss asked.

The question sounded cold and unsympathetic but that was how they were now. The remaining victors : cold and unsympathetic. It could be a nice title for Effie's book, Haymitch mused. She would sell millions.

"It's not like we owe her anything." Katniss added defensively. "If she hadn't drawn Prim's name to begin with…" Her sentence trailed off into nothing which was probably for the best.

"The girl has a point." Haymitch shrugged.

"If it hadn't been Effie it would have been someone else, you know that." Peeta replied gently. "And she was good to us. I heard stories about other escorts. Effie was… kind."

"Now the boy has a point." Haymitch grumbled.

Truth was, he probably wouldn't have made it all those years without her annoying presence at his side. She had kept him in line when another escort would have let him cross the line that would have led to his death, she had covered for him when he couldn't bother getting out of bed to talk to a sponsor, she had done her best to help. Always. Yes, she was irritating, bitchy, self-centered and far too much obsessed with propriety but she was also soft-hearted, feisty, occasionally funny and she had made everything bearable for him – not to mention she was hot.

"Plutarch says she needs a place to stay and heal for a few weeks." Peeta insisted. "I said we would take her in."

"What she needs is someone to boss around and something to fuss about." Haymitch snorted. He knew Effie's nature by heart. They had worked together for thirteen years before Katniss and Peeta came along. Working had always been her answer to being upset.

"I'm glad you're taking it this way." the boy smiled. "Because I told Plutarch you would call her."

Haymitch blinked. "Sorry, what?"

Katniss seemed to find the situation a lot funnier than it actually was. "Well, it makes sense. You've known her the longest. You can say you feel lonely or something… Maybe tell her you miss her and you want her to visit. She can boss you around like in the old days and she can fuss about the state of your house, I'm tired of doing that myself."

He stared at the girl as if she had grown a second head. "Are you drunk, sweetheart?"

It was stupid of course. Katniss couldn't know how treacherous those words would sound coming from him. I miss you was a perfectly acceptable sentiment between friends but he and Effie had never been friends. They were… They were an in-between. In-between enemies and allies, in-between haters and lovers, in-between forever and never…

"That's what I thought too." Peeta nodded. "Will you call her, Haymitch?"

"No." he spat.

Peeta and Katniss exchanged a glance and then a dangerous smile bloomed on the girl's lips.

"Maybe we should call her." Katniss suggested. "We can tell her Haymitch is lonely… And that he misses her…"

"And that he talks about her all the time…" Peeta jumped on the idea, a teasing spark in his eyes. "Which is true anyway."

"I don't talk about Effie all the time." he growled.

"Actually, you kind of do." Katniss said thoughtfully. "You're always muttering her name when you're drunk. Between other things…" The tip of her ears flushed red and Haymitch felt his own cheeks burn in embarrassment. What was his drunk mind thinking about?

"You call people Effie when they try to help you off the floor." Peeta chuckled. "Men or women, you don't see the difference."

"She did it for years. It's habit, nothing more." Haymitch mumbled, pushing himself up. He swayed on his feet uncertainly for a few seconds and, when he was certain he wouldn't fall, he staggered to the front door.

"Say hi to Effie for us!" Peeta shouted after him.

"I'm not calling her!" he yelled back, exiting the kids' house to stumble along the slippery path to his own house.

The cold air cleared his mind a little and strengthened his resolve. He wouldn't call Effie Trinket. If Effie Trinket needed help, she could make the call. Calling her felt too much like losing whatever game they were still playing.

He slumped on his couch with a new bottle of wine.

What did he care about her anyway? He didn't. And he certainly didn't miss her. Neither did he miss the sparkling blue eyes or that annoying voice of hers… Even if the voice wasn't as much annoying when it whispered sweet stupid things in his ear.

He blamed the wine when he found himself in the kitchen and he blamed the boy when he dialed her number.

The phone rang and rang to the point he almost hung up. It was the middle of the night, he figured, calling at such an hour probably was a terribly rude thing to do. Yet he knew he wouldn't try again the following day. It was a now or never kind of decision.

He was about to let the matter drop entirely when the phone stopped ringing. There was a soft intake of breath at the other end of the line, no hello, no Effie Trinket speaking, nothing but the quiet sound of someone holding their breath. He wondered if she was used to getting calls in the middle of the night. He wondered how bad it really was for the last escort in the new Panem.

"Hello, sweetheart." he mumbled, his words slurred from alcohol and nerves.

She didn't answer. Her breath audibly caught and there was the thump of something being dropped in shock. Still, she didn't say anything.

If she hung up now, he thought, he would be twice the fool : once for having called, twice for having hoped.

"Haymitch." she said at last.

And it was the sweetest sound.