What can I say, I'm on a roll! Too many missing scenes! Too many!

Ok, SPOILERS

The second I saw Haymitch going to Two, I knew there must have been some sort of hayffie convo/fight about it and also seriously how freaked out was she when the feed broke? So I needed to write my hc for it.

Off To War

Haymitch was tossing everything he could think of in the bag only to take it out again when it refused to fit inside. He glanced up when the door of his compartment slid open but quickly went back to trying to figure out how to shove his toilet bag in there with the bundled clothes.

"Help me pack." he requested.

"Plutarch just told me Katniss is going to Two." Effie snapped, closing the door behind her and advancing on him with an accusatory finger pointed right at his chest. "You promised me she would be safe, Haymitch. Two isn't safe. Two is as front line as it goes."

"She's the damn Mockingjay." he grumbled. "They'll keep her safe."

"You have no guarantees at all." she hissed. "Eight was supposed to be safe and it was a disaster. You know as well as I do that you can't control the girl, she's stubborn and wild and she will do…" She paused as he forcefully shoved his toilet bag in the pack. "Why exactly are you packing?"

Good old Plutarch, Haymitch couldn't help but think with some resentment, avoiding the complicated conversations.

"I'm going with her." he announced.

The noise she made was halfway between a laugh and a gasp.

"No, you are certainly not." she scowled.

"Look, sweetheart." he sighed, giving up on his messing packing to stare at her. "You can argue about this all you want, in half a hour I will be in that hovercraft with Katniss, so you can either help me or go rant to someone else because I don't have time to deal with you. I'm going with Katniss, you're staying with Peeta. End of discussion."

She pursed her lips but pushed him away, emptying his bag to fold everything properly and place it back inside. Suddenly, there was plenty of room in the bag. Her organization skills had always been better than his.

"Where is the soldier gear?" she asked, looking around. Her eyes finally stopped on his grey uniform. "You need combat gear. A bulletproof vest. Are they planning on giving you a gun? Can you shoot?"

She studied his unsteady fingers with an unimpressed face. The tremors were bad that day and he buried his hands in his pockets.

"Calm down." He rolled his eyes. "I won't see any combat."

"You don't know. You can't." she retorted. "You are not going without proper gear, Haymitch. I won't allow it."

She folded her arms over her chest and glared.

"Yeah? What are you going to do? March to the armory and demand they equip me or else?" he smirked. "I'm sure they will be shaking in their boots."

Although they should. A very pissed Effie Trinket was scary.

"This is not a joking matter, Haymitch." she growled. "Can't you be serious for once? I hate the idea of Katniss being out there but I know Katniss can defend herself. Can you? This is a terrible idea. You shouldn't be out there, you shouldn't. You can guide her from Command, you don't need to go. Tell Plutarch you are staying here where you belong."

"Way to make a man feel good about himself, sweetheart." he scorned. "My hands may be not good for anything but my brain still work, thank you fucking much. I can be useful."

She waved that argument away. "Oh, don't be stupid. I didn't mean it like that and you know it."

"And what did you mean then?" he sneered.

"I meant that you should be here with me!" she exclaimed angrily. "Safe!"

Her breath caught and she turned her head away in what was, he supposed, an attempt at hiding the tears shining in her eyes.

"Effie, everything will be fine." he sighed, reaching out to tug playfully on the bow of her headscarf. She batted his hand away with a pitiful sniff. "You're acting like a hysterical wife, Princess."

"I feel like one." she confessed, stepping closer to lock her arms around his torso. He hugged back with another sigh, propping his chin on the top of her head, always amazed at how tiny she was without her heels. He chose not to linger on the wife thing. He had tossed the term as a gibe but he couldn't deny that lately they had been acting too much like a couple – something they had never agreed they were, their relationship was messy and complicated but he would have liked to keep it undefined for now. "One of us has to go with Katniss, she's not stable. And one of us has to stay with Peeta. You're going on the battle front over my dead body so…" He shrugged. "I'll be fine. I'll be careful. I'll be Boggs' shadow. And I'm pretty sure Katniss will shoot anyone who tries to shoot me so there's always that."

"I still don't like it." she complained.

"You don't have to like it, just don't give me shit about it." he said, stepping back to grab his pack. "You're coming to see me off?"

She snorted. "I am not that much of a hysterical wife. Should I walk you down to the hovecrafts hold, fuss over you and wave you off with my handkerchief? How plebeian."

She had done it more than once in the past but he held his tongue, sensing it had more to do with her not wanting to get emotional in public. Her arms were folded in front of her chest again and she was pouting in displeasure and suppressed emotions. He leaned in and waited until she pecked his lips with an obvious lack of enthusiasm. Their mouths barely locked together.

"You're sending me off to war with that sort of kiss?" he teased.

"I will kiss you properly when you come back." she grumbled. "I will have to trust it will be enough motivation for you not to get killed." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do not get killed, Haymitch. I would be so mad I might very well find a way to resurrect you only so I can murder you myself."

"Understood, sweetheart." he chuckled, swinging his pack on his shoulders and forcing himself not to look back as he left the compartment.

It was sad how used they were at saying goodbye.

°O°0°O°

Command was bustling with activity as always but Effie was sitting in a quiet corner, out of the way and out of Coin's line of sight. She clutched the paper cup full of tepid tea in her hands, focused on the monitor screen in front of her, watching Katniss being threatened with the gun, her heart in her throat.

Her eyes kept shifting to the background where she could just glimpse Haymitch, standing there frozen, his hands hanging uselessly by his sides. He didn't have a gun. He wasn't wearing combat gear either.

If he ever made it out of Two, she was going to kill him for being so reckless.

When the man tossed his gun and Katniss stood up, making a better speech than anything she or Plutarch could have written, Effie allowed herself to breathe.

Right up until someone else shot the girl.

Then her heart stopped only to start racing in the following second.

Katniss went down, people started running toward her, Haymitch amongst them, and then the feed died. The tea splotched at her feet but she didn't even notice. She bolted out of her chair and hurried to where Plutarch was standing next to Coin, talking to Lyme through the video communication system. It was several minutes before they were told the situation was back under control.

Katniss, they were told was fine – which, Effie realized belatedly, she already knew, the Mockingjay suit was bulletproof, she knew that – or would be after a trip to the hospital. There was a lot of wounded, a lot of dead on both sides and they couldn't be more precise aside for the fact a hovercraft was coming back to Thirteen.

"Haymitch?" she asked, clutching Plutarch's arm.

The Gamemaker shook his head. "No word about him. I'm sure he's fine, Effie."

She wasn't.

Her thoughts kept circling back to his lack of protective combat gear and the noticeable absence of a gun. Did he even have his knife with him? He wasn't allowed to keep it in Thirteen but surely they would have let him have a weapon in Two? But even if he had his knife… What good would a blade be against a gun?

She was worried sick.

She paced and paced until Coin tossed Plutarch a pointed look and the Gamemaker politely but firmly requested she waited elsewhere.

She waited in the hovercrafts hold, resuming her pacing and worrying her fingers, ignoring the numerous glances soldiers sent her way. So much for not looking like a hysterical wife…

When the hovercraft finally landed, she made a beeline for the door. Katniss was rolled past on a gurney, seemingly out of it but awake, and behind her…

"You stupid man!" she hissed, whacking Haymitch's arm.

He rolled his eyes but didn't even slow down. "Missed you too, sweetheart." he mocked, hurrying after the gurney.

She didn't see him again for hours.

It was the middle of the night when he showed up at her compartment, so tired he could barely stand upright. He flopped on her bed with a relieved sigh and, still on his back, bent his legs to unlace his boots before kicking them off. They crashed on the floor with two thud. He seemed happy to ignore her pout.

"Katniss's all patched up." he said. "A couple of broken ribs, some bruising… She'll be fine. I know you're dying to yell, so go ahead so I can get some sleep."

"Stupid man." she snapped.

"Like a broken record…" he snorted.

He was missing the point so completely that she huffed and pulled him upright by his collar. Her mouth crashed on his, his lips parted readily for her and she deepened the kiss until air became an actual issue. She drew back with a breathless gasp.

His grey eyes twinkled with amusement and his smirk was entirely too smug. "Now, that's what I call a kiss, Princess."

"One day, I will murder you." she threatened. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

"I'll try." he promised, brushing her blond hair away from her face with a tentative tenderness. She huffed again but settled down next to him, with her head on his chest and his arms around her.

She let the sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

It was the sweetest of sounds.