Prompt : Was there ever a prompt for a Hayffie related fic set to the story of Back To December? Because I'd really love to read something like that, Effie hurting Haymitch instead of him hurting her by leaving x

Obviously the sentence "freedom is nothing but missing you" belongs to Taylor Swift and not to me ;)

Back To December

Effie's hands were clasped in front of her on the table, as much to prevent them from fidgeting as to hide the slight tremors.

The cup of coffee she had ordered remained untouched next to her carefully manicured nails. It was cold now. Her eyes drifted to the huge clock hanging on the wall of the small diner the third time in as many minutes.

He was late.

She couldn't quite shake out the idea that he wouldn't come even though he had said he would. Around her the other patrons talked loudly and went on with their lives, unaware of the mental agony she was in.

She used to be better than that, more independent, less desperate… The old Effie would never have waited for a man in an ordinary cheap diner, long after he was due to arrive, with her heart racing at the thought he wouldn't show. The old Effie would have gathered her things a minute after the appointed hour and would have left without looking back. But the old Effie died in the Capitol cells and the woman she had left behind wasn't as strong.

Finally, when she could have sworn her heart was about to beat right out of her chest and she had assured the waitress for the third time that she was alright and still waiting for someone, he arrived. Her eyes were drawn to him immediately, she lifted her hand in an awkward salute but it was unnecessary because, just like she had sensed his presence, he had sensed hers. There was a purpose to his step when he walked straight to her table, as if he was getting ready for a fight.

"Haymitch." It was both a delighted sigh and a greeting.

He flopped down on the leather bench in front of her, on the other side of the table, without a word. He studied her quietly for a second and then shrugged.

"You look better." he commented. "What did you want to talk about?"

No pleasantries, no small-talk… She couldn't say she was surprised, manners had never been Haymitch's thing.

"I heard you were in the Capitol." she ventured, forcing a smile on her lips. "I thought…"

She shrugged. She never used to do that either – not dignify enough – but she was at a loss for words because she didn't quite know how to explain what she had thought. She had learned he was in the city through the press, like everyone else, something about the victors' allowances. Paylor's government wanted to cut it down by half. He had done his best to keep his visit under the radar but she had glimpsed his face on TV as he was ushered in Plutarch's car outside the station.

He made no attempt to help her out so she took a deep breath and switched topic. "I heard about the allowance. Did they…"

"Paylor can't do anything. The new Panem doesn't need victors, she says." he snorted, without any trace of amusement. "I don't care much. I get by. I made the trip for the boy, he's reopening the bakery, it takes money."

She immediately lightened at the mention of Peeta. "How are the children?"

"Do you care?" he spat.

She supposed he had been showing restrain until then because now he simply looked angry.

"Of course I care." she countered in a whisper. "Haymitch…"

"If you cared, you would have kept in touch." he cut her off. "Call them once in a while. It's one thing to pretend I don't exist, sweetheart, it's another to rule the kids out of your life."

"I never pretended you don't exist." she argued, trying to stay calm. She clasped her hands harder, to collect herself so he wouldn't see the tremors that persisted when she was in a stressful situation. "I just needed a break, Haymitch. You're the one who…"

"Don't put what happened on me." he growled. "I asked you to come to Twelve, I told you I…"

He snapped his mouth shut. He had uttered those words only once, in the dead of night, his face buried in her hair and she had known at the time how difficult they were for him, how much pain they had put him through before, she had known she should have accepted them and reciprocate his feelings. But those words coming from him right after the rebellion had terrified her. There was no logical reason for that but logic wasn't exactly part of her life anymore at that point. Everything and nothing sent her into a frenzy of panic, flashbacks stabbed her in the chest at the worst possible moment, nightmares were unrelenting…

"You said no." he reminded her. "You said you needed to be free."

"Yes, well…" she breathed out, a joyless grin on her lips. "It turns out freedom is nothing but missing you."

She was waiting for the sarcastic reply but it never came. Instead, he watched her with a guarded face and she measured just how much she had hurt him when she had rejected his offer. She couldn't bring herself to regret it even now because she knew that if she had accepted in the mind frame she had been in at the time, they wouldn't have lasted two weeks. But months without him had taught her just how much she needed him in her life, just how much he meant to her even after everything that had happened. She hadn't been sure anymore after the rebellion. She hadn't been sure of anything. Now she was.

"I miss you." she said again. "I… I would understand if you don't want to but I was hoping we could perhaps try again?"

He averted his eyes. "I'm taking the train back tonight."

"Oh…" She hadn't thought about that. She had thought he would maybe stay a few days more. "Well… I could visit, couldn't I? I would love to see the children."

"I don't know." he said. He took a flask out of his inner pocket and took a long swallow.

"You started drinking again." she observed, careful to keep the judgment out of her voice.

"Around the time you kicked me out of your flat, yeah." he chuckled bitterly.

She supposed she had earned it so she turned her head away and studied the discolored poster on the wall. It was an advert for some old movie she hated.

"I apologize, this was an awful idea." she whispered after a few seconds of unbearable silence. She grabbed her purse, tossed a few notes on the table – she hoped it was enough to cover the bill because she couldn't see properly, her sight was blurred by tears – and fled before she could think twice about it. It was all her fault. She could have explained herself better at the time, she could have made him understand, and instead, she had driven him away, she had run away from her feelings because it was easier than to deal with them.

She paused once outside the diner, fishing in her purse for her car keys. Her fingers were closing on them when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She knew who it was, she always knew. She turned around without looking up and buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the familiar smell of faint sweat, liquor fumes and cheap soap. She had missed it so much. His arms wrapped around her and held her close and she had to swallow back a sob.

"I love you." she confessed, months too late.

He didn't say anything but he stroke her hair softly – probably messing up her stylish bun yet she didn't complain.

There was hope in his embrace.

Hope it wasn't too late and they still had a chance.