Prompt: Coin starts making hunger games for Capitol citizens and Effie gets thrown into the games. Haymitch gets all worried, and when the birds start calling out Haymitchs name for effie. He gets really confused

The Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games

"She's doing great." Peeta offered comfortingly, squeezing his shoulder on his way out to get more sponsors – or try to, at least.

Haymitch didn't offer an opinion.

He had been sitting on the penthouse couch too many times in the past, his grey eyes darting between the live feed on the TV screen and the little monitor screen tracking the progress of the tribute he was mentoring.

The glass in his hand remained untouched.

Liquor tasted bad lately – ever since the 76th Reaping, truly. Instead of simply executing escorts, Gamemakers and Games officials, Coin had decided to make a new bunch of Games out of it. He was still convinced Effie being reaped wasn't a coincidence.

Peeta had volunteered to mentor and Haymitch had followed because it was the only way to get close to her. He had expected tears at the time but she had been calm, almost resolute. She had that look in her eyes he knew too well : acceptance. She knew she was going to die.

He hadn't thought she would last as long as she did, truthfully. She had escaped the bloodbath by running from the Cornucopia, listening to his advices for once, and her main strategy had been to avoid other contestants as much as possible. The real problem was keeping herself hydrated and warm.

The Games were boring. Capitol people weren't meant to be in the wild and they were all dying stupidly from thirst, exposure or natural dangers they didn't have the foresight to avoid – of course there were the few exceptions, one or two tributes who weren't squeamish about making blood flow but they weren't the rule.

Effie was clever enough to stay out of their way.

He tracked her progress on the monitor screen, her blond braid – Katniss' style, he had insisted, to remind people who her team was, she was also wearing the Mockingjay pin somewhere near her shoulder – bouncing against her back with each step she took. She was hunched on herself to fight the cold and her teeth were chattering.

Peeta was very optimistic.

Haymitch wasn't.

She had stayed alive for that long but she was playing it safe. Playing it safe was all well and good for awhile but it had never won the Games.

"Left." he muttered when he realized she was heading right toward the swamp. There were mutts in there and if she got wet she would never be able to get warm again. They kept lowering the temperature, it would be freezing before long. "Left. Left. Left."

She stopped suddenly, looked up at the sky – the artificial sun – inspected the next tree… She looked confused, probably trying to remember the large amount of tips about wilderness Haymitch had droned into her head again and again during the previous days. She was trying to find the north probably. She turned right.

He glanced at the crude map he had made of the arena, right wasn't ideal because it would take her to the cliff but it was still better than the swamp.

When the life feed on TV switched to her, he knew something bad would happen. She had finally reached the cliff. A small smile played on her lips and she kicked a rock over the edge. It bounced back.

"I miss you." she whispered.

Haymitch found breathing very hard suddenly.

He closed his eyes when he heard the fluttering of wings, tuning out the running commentary. He couldn't watch. It was Maysilee all over again : the cliff, the birds… She didn't even have a weapon to defend herself with.

The scream of pain wasn't hers, though, and it made him open his eyes again.

Jabberjays.

He watched, clutching the glass in his hand, as she fell to her knees confronted with their dead tributes' voices – from the first she had reaped to the very last. Then it was Katniss' and Peeta's.

And then…

His voice. Only his voice, echoed by a dozen of birds, accusing her of things, insulting her, telling her how much he despised and hated her…

He squeezed the glass too tightly. It burst.

He didn't even registered the sheds buried in his palm or the drops of blood mixing with the whiskey on the couch.

Effie was rocking on the ground, hugging herself and muttering the same thing again and again. He had to mute the TV and turn on the sound on the monitor screen to the maximum to hear her.

"I love you." she countered to each of the Jabberjays' attack. "I love you."

"Me too, Princess." he whispered back.

She never heard him.