Prompt : could you maybe do a prompt based on this line from Chapter 73 of Hads? : "One day he's gonna do something stupid and they'll kill you as punishment and I will be the one cleaning up your messes." I read it and I want sad up the wazoo. Where he effs up and they hurt or (preferably) even kill her and how Haymitch and the other victors respond? Pretty please?

Pressure Point

"No, she's been missing for almost two days." Chaff said to the phone in his only remaining hand. "Finnick, if you can find something…"

Haymitch leaned against the penthouse bay window, making the whiskey twirl in his glass. He was dizzy. He wasn't sure when he had eaten for the last time… Probably two days ago, when Effie forced him to eat a muffin at breakfast before he fucked up everything.

"No." Chaff said, rubbing his lump against his tired face. He hadn't slept more than Haymitch and the stress was starting to take its toll on both of them. "No, we're sure. I will try Crane. Maybe, he…"

"Hang up." Haymitch said, downing his drink and his last hopes in the same shot. "She's dead."

Effie Trinket was dead.

He had killed her with his drunken attacks on the Games two days ago, during an interview. Both she and Caesar had tried to make him shut up but he had been too far gone in his drinks and he had been too virulent in his sarcasms. He had realized it the moment the words had left his lips. He had known there would be consequences.

At the time, he had thought they would finally kill him. It had never even crossed his mind that Effie could have been at risk.

Two hours after the interview, Effie was gone. She had apparently disappeared from the city without anyone being the wiser. He hadn't realized at first and when he had started looking it had been too late. She wasn't in the Training Center, she wasn't at her apartment, she was nowhere in the Capitol and the Peacekeepers had scoffed in his face when he had reported her missing.

Out of despair and frustration in his drunken stupor, he had called Chaff.

Eleven's victor hadn't been more successful than him at finding her.

She was gone.

It was too late.

He started to laugh. It was an odd sort of laugh, it hurt his side and left him out of breath. It was a mad sort of laugh. A desperate one.

"Finnick, I'm going to call you back." Chaff said very slowly, his eyes riveted on him.

Haymitch didn't pay him any attention. He walked to the liquor cart and grabbed the bottle of vodka. The decanter of whiskey was half-empty, he poured the vodka in it.

"What are you doing?" Chaff asked, walking closer.

"Go away." he spat.

"Haymitch, we don't know yet…" his friend argued.

"Yeah?" he snorted. "You think she's still alive?"

Chaff didn't meet his eyes. "It's not your fault."

"Sure, it's not." he chuckled. When the decanter was full to the brim, he brought it to his lips. The taste was horrible and it burned badly on the way down.

The other victor's lump fell on his wrist. "What are you trying to do? Dying from alcohol poisoning?" He tried to wrestle the decanter away from him but Haymitch had the advantage of having two hands, it wasn't hard to push him away.

"Leave me alone." he grumbled, taking another mouthful of the awful mix.

"Not gonna happen, buddy." Chaff retorted. "You think she would want you to kill yourself?"

"She's dead, what do I care?" he snarled, swallowing some more liquor. The effect was immediate. He was already drunk but the mix made him nauseous. "She's dead just like my girl and my family because of me." He tried to take another sip but Chaff snatched it from him. Haymitch staggered to the couch and hunched over the back to keep himself upright. "She's dead."

His voice broke.

It was stupid, really.

She was just his escort. Nothing but his escort… Barely a friend.

He shrugged off the hand Chaff placed on his shoulder but his friend was persistent.

"Come on, buddy…" the other victor whispered. "She's not worth killing yourself over. You will have forgotten her in a week."

It was weak and Chaff knew it.

"Like hell." Haymitch scoffed. "I killed her. I should just have kept my big mouth shut. I should…"

"Yeah, well…" Chaff sighed. "Mistakes happen. We're only human."

"Fuck." he spat. He was going to be sick.

"Let's get you to bed." his friend suggested. "I think you had enough for tonight."

He tried to protest, to shrug off the arm Chaff wrapped around his waist but in the end he gave up and stumbled in the vague direction of the door. The room was spinning around him by that point so he figured it couldn't get worse.

When Chaff suddenly froze, it took Haymitch several seconds to realize it was because of the elevator's chime.

The figure that walked out was blurry and when he stopped seeing double, he thought he must have been having hallucinations. Effie was standing there, wig a bit crooked, make-up smudged, in the same dress she had been wearing two days ago.

"You will never believe what happened to me." Effie said and it was her voice. Annoying, high-pitched… Her voice. "I've been stuck in an elevator for two days. Unbelievable, isn't it?"

Her voice faltered, her lips were wobbling despite the smile.

"Yeah, that's the word." Chaff snorted. "I'm glad to see you, love."

"Believe it or not, I am glad to see you too." she offered. It was faint. She looked ready to keel over. When her eyes found him, they softened. "What have you done to yourself, Haymitch?"

He escaped Chaff's grip and staggered to her. If she hadn't reached out for him, he would probably have collapsed but as it was, he clung to her, making sure she was real. If she was an hallucination, she was a very convincing one. Her body fitted perfectly in his arms, firm and pliant under his hands – unlike all his other hallucinations. She wasn't a ghost.

"Fuck…" he breathed out into the synthetic hair of her wig.

"Language, Haymitch." she chided him. Yet, the way she clutched to his body told him she didn't really mind.

Her sudden appearance was enough of a shock that he felt a little bit more sober. Sober enough, in any case, to frame her face with his hands. "Are you hurt, sweetheart?"

He searched her eyes for the lie and found it the second she shook her head no.

"I was trapped in an elevator, nothing else." she repeated. "Nothing else…"

He hadn't heard Chaff walk closer but his friend was gentle when he placed his lump on her shoulder.

"You're sure?" Eleven's victor insisted.

"Of course, I am sure." she laughed and it sounded fake and broken.

Haymitch pulled her to his chest again and held her close, simply happy to feel her breathing against his neck. Her arms immediately sneaked around his waist, one of her hand clasping his shoulder from behind in an attempt to bring him even closer. She was shaking.

"I'm sorry." he whispered. "I'm so sorry…" The feather-like kisses he pressed to her neck were inebriated but he couldn't say what he was drunk on now : liquor or her being alive. "I'm sorry."

"He's very out of it." he heard Chaff say but he was too busy kissing and apologizing in turn. "I don't think he slept or ate in two days. He drank though."

Haymitch didn't fight it when Chaff took hold of one of his arms to wrap it around his own shoulders because Effie remained close, placing his other arm around hers.

"You should have taken better care of him." she chided his friend. "What if…"

"I did my best." Eleven's victor snapped. "Your death would break him for good and now everyone knows it. What do you think that little stunt was for?"

"He went too far during the interviews." Effie murmured.

Haymitch wanted to say sorry again but they dropped him on his bed and it took all he had not to throw up on her expensive shoes. He didn't think she would forgive him for that.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Chaff asked. "His room isn't bugged. We all check our room every year."

He could see them at the corner of his eyes but they were blurry. A pink blob and a dark one, standing close together. Chaff was peering at something but he couldn't tell what.

"You were lucky." the victor spat. "Bruises heal."

"I suppose so." Effie sighed. "Thank you for your help, I can manage from here."

"You look ready to faint, love." Chaff objected.

Effie didn't listen, she started working on Haymitch's shoes as was her usual method when he was too drunk to care for himself.

"Alright…" Eleven's victor relented when he figured out she wouldn't change her mind. "Call if you need anything."

He patted Haymitch's calf before leaving but Haymitch didn't even care at how patronizing it looked. He had eyes only for his escort. He couldn't believe she was there.

She dealt with his belt and his shirt and he did his best to be more helpful than usual. He tried to do something instead of remaining on his back and let her do all the work. She got him into sweatpants and a tee-shirt and when she was done, she sat next to him, kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his stomach.

He wrapped his arms around her at once.

"It won't happen again." he vowed with all the fervor liquor could give him. "I will protect you. It won't happen again. Ever. "

He pressed his lips against her forehead and she brushed the tip of her fingers against his cheek.

"It wasn't your fault. It was mine." she countered. "I knew you were drunk. I should have insisted for the interview to be rescheduled."

"They hurt you because of me." he growled, tightening his hold on her.

She shifted until he wasn't pressing so much on her arm but he didn't even notice.

"No, Haymitch. They hurt me because I failed at my job. It was about me, not about you." she lied. He knew it was a lie. "I am nothing to you."

"But that's not true." he retorted. "You're…"

"Nothing to you." she repeated firmly. "I won't be your pressure point."

"Sweetheart…" he sighed. "You already are."

She didn't answer.

There was nothing to answer to that.