Prompt : I feel like in book!canon of Effie being imprisoned/tortured, 13 wouldn't be particularly happy about having to treat a Capitol escort when she got rescued. When you get the time, could you please do a fic where 13 refuse to give effie morphling or anything for the pain and only give her the necessary treatment so she wont die. maybe they ration their resources for district people or for whatever reason and haymitch and maybe finnick realise and try to get her some painkillers or whatever? :)

I actually think this a probable hc, that imprisoned Capitol people/political refugees took a back seat while rebels and District people were being rescue. But I don't think Finnick would be here when Effie in particular is rescued. He's with Katniss in the Capitol already probably otherwise, Kat would probably have known about it.

One In a Thousand

Haymitch wasn't supposed to be on the hovercraft landing ground but he had nowhere else to be and inaction was starting to make him go crazy, so when Prim had seen him lurking and had grabbed his arm, he had followed. Boggs was dead, the Star Quad had disappeared off Thirteen's radar, the Capitol was being bombed, Coin, Plutarch and Beetee had asked him to step out while they were discussing Operation Hummingbirds – whatever that was – Johanna was shooting last minutes propos in hope of inspiring Capitol people to riot against Snow and Haymitch was left feeling helpless and useless. Hovercrafts were bringing back wounded people– political prisoners injured in a raid in one of the Capitol detaining facilities as well as rebels soldiers – and Prim claimed they needed all available hands on deck. The girl didn't seem to mind that his fingers were shaking so badly he couldn't hold anything straight.

Prim was a lot like Katniss, he mused as he watched her tilt her face to the sky to look for the hovercrafts. She had fire too except hers was more subdued, tamed. Katniss was wild but Prim was all control.

By the time the hovercrafts appeared, little more than dots in the distance, it was already chaos on the ground. Someone tied a white cloth around Haymitch's upper arm, marking him as help but not of the medical sort. Doctors were trying to organize things, reminding them of the necessity of triage.

Then there was no time for last minute commands because the hovercrafts were landing and Haymitch felt as if he was back in the arena. There was blood everywhere, moans of pain, shouts, calls for help… He moved in a daze, following Prim's instructions, pressing compresses against gaping wounds, holding patients down when required, hauling them up on stretchers…

"What about them?" he asked as they were moving on to the next wounded soldier. He nodded to the last hovercraft to have landed. People were being rolled out on stretchers or simply carried out and left on the ground. Any member of the medical staff had yet to go over there and start to take care of those patients.

The doctor he and Prim had been shadowing up until then glanced in the direction he indicated and shrugged. "They're Capitols. Our soldiers come first."

"And what about this triage thing then?" he frowned. He had seen the guy moved on from three patients with bleeding wounds because they weren't critical yet.

"They're Capitols." he repeated.

"We should at least give them water and blankets." Prim objected in a disapproving voice. "They might be hurt too."

"Sure." the doctor huffed. "By all means, go help the Capitols. You're only slowing me down anyway."

He bent over the next soldier, already signaling that he needed additional help.

"Asshole." Prim mumbled under her breath.

Haymitch couldn't help a snort of amusement. "Where did you learn to swear like that, sweetheart?"

"I'm friends with the three Hawthorne brothers, you know." she replied with a Cheshire grin. "Come on. Let's see what we can do for them. If they were in a Capitol prison, they can't be bad people, can they?"

"Stay close to me." Haymitch ordered. If anything happened to that kid, Katniss would have his balls on a plate – that was if her stupid big sister hadn't managed to get herself killed yet.

The Capitols didn't look much better than most of the soldiers, the only difference was that the wounds looked old and non life-threatening. Torture, his mind supplied easily. People stared at them with glassy unfocused eyes as they approached. A lot of them looked feverish, ill, the majority looked half dead already. It made Haymitch want to run the other way and never look back. Prim offered kind reassuring words and water as well as shock blankets but most of them seemed too stunned to even mutter a thank you. Some faces looked familiar but without the wigs, make-up and fancy clothes, Haymitch couldn't tell with any certainty.

Still, his eyes roamed over the thirty people abandoned there, unconsciously searching for the only woman he would have known amongst thousands of strangers. He wanted to think it was a good thing he couldn't spot her. Whatever had happened to those people, it wasn't good. She had no reason to be there anyway. Plutarch couldn't find her whereabouts which meant she had either done the clever thing and gone underground or she had been captured and was locked up somewhere even Thirteen's agents couldn't find – if she wasn't already dead.

"They need medical attention." Prim exclaimed in dismay, chewing on her bottom lip. "It's beyond what I can do."

She turned on her heels and dashed to one of the doctors which such determination on her face he almost felt sorry for the guy. Haymitch followed at a more leisure pace, figuring he could always glower at the man until he give in to Prim's request.

The hand that coiled around his ankle almost made him trip.

It figured, he thought as he met her tired blue eyes, that she would be the one to find him.

He had to do a double take because she was unrecognizable. Her blond hair was gone leaving only a peach fuzz and, stupidly, he mourned the golden curls for a second. She was wearing a tattered uniform – like the rest of the Capitols – that had once upon a time been white but was now so dirty it was difficult to say what color it was. In any case, it was stained with blood and grime and other things he didn't want to linger on.

"Effie." he breathed out, almost like a prayer.

Fuck it, he had hoped she wouldn't be amongst them, he had hoped against all logic she was safe somewhere.

"Effie." he repeated, dropping to his knees next to her. Her hand let go of his ankle, she didn't have a strong grip anyway. She was lying on her side, her breathing labored, her forehead damp with perspiration and he could tell something wasn't right with her shoulder. He thought it was out of its socket but he wasn't sure. "Help!" he bellowed but nobody answered him.

"Haymitch." she rasped out. Even her voice sounded feverish.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got you, it's okay." he promised, resting a hand on her head. He looked up again and shouted louder. "Prim!"

The girl stopped arguing with the doctor long enough to glance at him. When she saw his face, she hurried over. "Do you know her?"

"Find me a doctor." he commanded, ignoring the question.

"They won't help until all the soldiers have been seen to." she shook her head apologetically. "It's not right, Haymitch."

He didn't care much about right and wrong at that second. "Then we need your mom." He studied Effie, estimated it would take too long to dash to the hospital and come back only to face a possible refusal. He winced at the conclusion he reached and brushed his fingers against her forehead a few times in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. "I'm sorry, Princess, this is going to hurt."

"Haymitch, what…" Prim started only to fall silent when he gathered Effie in his arms.

Effie cried out in pain. Her head rolled on his shoulder, her face ending up pressed against his neck, he could feel the heat of her fever through their clothes, the hot puffs of her breaths on his throat… She was heaving, he thought she was also sobbing but too dehydrated to properly shed tears. He wished she would pass out, it would be less painful.

"It's okay." he repeated again and again. He was aware of other Capitols begging for help once they saw him taking her away, he was aware that soldiers tried to block his path and stop him but he walked on as if in a dream. Prim remained right next to him, countering every argument with his name and his clearance level. If they managed to reached the hospital, it was more because of her quick thinking than his stubbornness or his muttered "She's one of us.".

Effie was so frail in his arms he was afraid she would break. She had always been tiny without her wigs and heels but now… He couldn't shake the image of a trapped mouse out of his mind. Each time soldiers argued he wasn't authorized to take her further, he automatically shielded her while Prim argued their case. He was so focused on protecting her like he had failed to do for so long he didn't even realize they were there until Prim placed a hand on his arm.

"Put her on the bed, I will go get Mom." the girl ordered.

Placing her on the bed was more easily said than done. He had held on her injured arm while he was carrying her and letting go clearly hurt her like hell. She was biting her bottom lip so hard he was afraid she would tear it open.

As soon as he helped her settled down on her side so they were would be no weight on her shoulder, her good hand latched out and grasped his wrist. He kneeled next to the bed so he could look at her in the eyes.

"I'm sorry." he said because that was true.

She opened her mouth but it took her three attempts before she managed to get the words out and even then it was so low and raspy he didn't understand at once. Children.

He figured it was a question.

"They're fine." he lied. He didn't want to tell her he had lost them in the middle of a battlefield.

"Haymitch, what's going on?" Aster Everdeen asked, rushing to him, followed by Prim.

"It's Effie." he said simply, never looking away from her blue eyes. "She's hurt."

It was probably stating the obvious but seeing her like that had rattled him. It was his fault. He should have taken better care of her.

"There are better qualified doctors around here." Aster warned. "If you…"

"She's a Capitol escort, I don't trust them with her." he argued, glancing at the woman. "I trust you. Please, help her."

Perhaps, it was asking a lot from her. After all, Effie had reaped both her daughters. Aster was a good kind-hearted person though so she snapped into healer mode pretty quickly.

He held Effie's hand through it all and only breathed again once she was hooked up to some morphling and her face gradually relaxed. He remained at her bedside for what felt like hours, gripping her hand and cataloguing her injuries.

"Finally!" Plutarch huffed, appearing at the foot of the bed. "I've been looking everywhere for you, Haymitch. Didn't you check your communicuff?"

He hadn't. "I found Effie."

"So I've been told." the Head Gamemaker sighed. "I'm glad she's alive."

"Any news?" he asked.

He didn't glance at Plutarch, he couldn't quite take his eyes off Effie's sleeping form. The man remained silent a second too long. "You need to come back to Command. We think Katniss and part of her team managed to sneak behind enemies line. If Cressida is still alive, she probably took them to a safe house. We need to figure out what to do now."

Plutarch already knew what to do now. As far as Games went, this one was his masterpiece. He didn't want him in Command to talk strategy. There was something left unsaid, Haymitch could feel it.

"Part of her team?" he repeated. "Who died?"

It was a good thing Effie was asleep because he was gripping her hand so hard it must have hurt. Don't say Peeta, he begged in his mind, don't say Peeta.

"Finnick." Plutarch answered. "I'm sorry, Haymitch."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm staying here. Call me when you have real updates on my kids."

Mercifully, the Gamemaker didn't argue and left him alone. He was still sitting exactly as Plutarch had left him when Effie's eyes fluttered open hours later.

She was still out of it but her face softened when she spotted him and that was good enough for him. He brought the hand he was still holding to his cheek and kiss the inside of her wrist. He had no right to do that, of course, no right to expect comforting from her when she was the one who had gotten hurt because of his failures but Haymitch was a selfish man, all the more so when she was concerned. In their strange relationship, he had always taken more than he had given. It would change, he promised himself, when everything was over and the world had settled once again, he would make sure to treat her right.

Her voice was still faint but her eyes were a little more focused than earlier. "Who's still alive?"

It was probably telling that she was asking for a list of the living rather than a list of the dead, as if she knew, already, that there would fewer of their friends left breathing.

"You." He started with her because, at that precise moment, it meant everything to him. "Me. Katniss and her family. Peeta. Johanna. Annie. Beetee." There were others naturally but as far as their shared friends went, that was it.

When he was done, she nodded and then closed her eyes. Slowly, he leaned in until his forehead rested against her side, mindful of her broken ribs.

"Tell me we're going to be fine." he pleaded.

It was her role, after all. She was the one supposed to keep their mood up, the eternal optimistic, all bright colors and cheerfulness.

She didn't answer though.

She simply placed a hand at the back of his head.

He didn't know what that meant.

Perhaps that they wouldn't be fine but that, at least, they had each other.