This isn't a prompt but another D13 one shot because… I can't get enough ^^

Visiting Hours

The door to her compartment slid open without any warning knock and Effie looked up from the wig she was busy styling – although not allowed to wear – startled at the intrusion. She relaxed when she saw the familiar figure of Haymitch, clad in a ridiculous amount of sweaters, escorted by his usual soldier.

"Visiting hours again, is it?" she scorned.

Haymitch rolled his eyes, not bothering to point out she was free to come and go as she pleased in the District. That was Plutarch's role.

"Conjugal visit, sweetheart." he smirked, coming in without being invited and flopping on the remaining free chair in front of the small table.

"In your dreams." she scoffed.

"In my dreams you're not wearing clothes and you're less talkative." he retorted, glaring at the man who was still standing in the open door, tactfully keeping his eyes averted. "Do you mind?"

"You aren't to be left unsupervised." the soldier said after clearing his throat.

They had kept Haymitch locked in a sort of cell of his own for weeks under the pretext of his withdrawals. Effie had kept to her own room for the same lapse of time with Plutarch for only visitor. She merely wandered out to the dinner hall when the hunger became too much.

Haymitch was now allowed out for an hour a day – to get exercise, or so he had told her. He didn't seem much convinced by Thirteen's doctors and she wasn't either from what she had learn from his sporadic visits.

"What am I? Invisible?" Effie huffed, waving her hairbrush in the air to make her point. "Darling, he isn't unsupervised, he is with me. I took care of him for thirteen years I do think I can manage for five minutes."

The soldier was very young and Effie used to stare Gamemakers down. It didn't took long before the rebel slid the door close again.

"Impressive." Haymitch snorted. "You have to teach me that."

He moved as if to place his feet on the table but she swatted at him with her hairbrush.

"Don't you dare." she warned.

He slumped on the table instead, cushioning his cheek on his arm. His skin was yellowish, his cheeks were hollow and his eyes bloodshot – not to mention the dark bags underneath.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, worried despite herself.

"As bad as I look." he mumbled. "They say they're going to let me out sometimes next week."

"I haven't seen you in a few days." she observed. That had been a concern of hers. Ever since they had allowed him his hour of walking, he had made a point of visiting her at least once every three days. It had been much longer than that since he had last appeared at her door.

"I punched a doctor, they put me in solitary confinement." he explained. "Missed me?"

"Why in Panem would you punch a doctor?" she frowned.

"He was annoying." he sighed.

Which was enough reason in his book, she figured.

"Did you see Katniss?" she asked, biting her bottom lip. She tried to focus back on her wig but she couldn't manage it when Haymitch was staring at her.

"I'm not allowed in the hospital." he said.

"You shouldn't have tried to steal those pills." she commented, clicking her tongue disapprovingly.

"How do you know about that?" he scowled. "Have you been gossiping with Plutarch again?"

She placed the wig aside carefully and clasped her hands on the table. "You told me last time, Haymitch."

His memory was acting up. It was the withdrawal, she supposed, but he hated it. She knew it made him angry to think he was diminished in any way and being unable to dismiss it through his usual coping method couldn't be easy for him.

"Why don't you go see Katniss?" he growled, straightening up only to slump further in his chair.

"Plutarch says she is still recovering." Effie offered, averting her eyes.

"I trust your word more than I trust Plutarch's." Haymitch shot back.

"Do you?" she whispered.

The elephant in the room was between them again.

The plan, the rebellion… Everything they had kept from her until the very last moment. Everything he had imposed on her without asking first.

Would she had followed him if she had known? Probably.

Would she had liked to make the choice for herself? Definitely.

Haymitch's breathing was loud and labored. He sniffed at regular intervals as if he was starting to come down with a cold.

"You have to go out of this room at some point, you know." he observed. "You can't hide in here forever."

"I go out sometimes." she argued. "I need to eat now and then. Not that what they are serving in this place could pass for refined gastronomy…"

"You know what I mean, Effie." he insisted, reaching out for her hands slowly. She let him cover her fingers with his shaking ones. The tremors were still very bad, she noticed. "It's okay to be scared but…"

"I am not scared." she lied, snatching her hands away. "I simply dislike walking around looking like this."

She gestured at the sad grey jumpsuit she was wearing. She had done what she could for the outfit but it still wasn't anywhere near her standards – and more bothering was the lack of make-up and the scarf she had to wrap around her hair. It wouldn't be said that Effie Trinket showed herself in public in her plain old self even in the most remote of Districts.

"Suit yourself, Princess." he sneered.

"Yes, I do think I will do as I please, thank you very much." she hissed.

They glared at each other for several long minutes and then he shrugged. "I'm allowed visitors now. You could come to see me. It's lonely back there."

She could surmise it was and she could also surmise he wasn't doing well with the lack of activity. If he wasn't drinking, Haymitch needed to be intellectually occupied or he would start to dwell and… He needed something to keep the ghosts at bay. She had been that something enough times over the years.

"I will try to find time but I am very busy." she said. It was a lie and they both knew it.

"Sure." he scoffed. "Must be exhausting to brush that wig all day."

She spent most of her time working on her clothes but she didn't think he would want to hear that so she remained silent.

The knocking at the door was hesitant. "Time's up, Mr Abernathy."

"And you say I'm not imprisoned." she muttered, feeling dejected.

"I'm the one in prison, sweetheart." He drew out a heavy sigh and pushed himself up on his feet.

He looked frail and ill and it broke her heart. It wasn't right the way they were treating him. She was all for sobering him up but there were other options to handle withdrawals.

She grabbed his wrist when he walked past her on his way to the door.

He paused and looked down at her curiously. She tugged on his arm once and outstretched her neck, he leaned in and kissed her without hesitation.

"See, I love conjugal visits." he smirked, pecking her mouth one last time and opening the door. The soldier was shuffling on his feet, obviously uncomfortable. "Oh, would you relax… You think she keeps bottles of liquor under that wrap or something?" He winked at her. "Visit me sometimes, sweetheart."

They both knew she wouldn't but she played along all the same. "I just might."

He blew her a kiss and she pretended to be annoyed by his stupidity.

Just like old times, she mused.

Some things would never change.