Prompt : Today's prompt was beautiful in a very special way. Also very sad and all I wanted to do was to hug Effie and Peeta. Poor babies. You mentioned Effie getting threatening letters and I want to ask for a prompt about it. Maybe during the Games and she's really shocked and Haymitch promises her to protect her if possible. I would love to read something like that.
Threats
Effie reached the house with utter relief, waving goodbye to Peeta before slipping inside, immediately shedding off her snow covered coat and hanging it on the rack near the front door. The shoes were next – unfortunately neither heeled nor glamorous, concessions had to be made when there was a coat of snow so heavy it reached your mid-calves – then the gloves, the scarf and the cute little pink woolen hat with a pompom on top she had bought at the market the other day.
She ruffled her hair and wandered to the kitchen, not exactly surprised to find Haymitch fixing dinner. She had only been in Twelve for a few weeks but they had already developed a routine. Most days, she helped Peeta at the bakery which meant she leaved the house early and came back only in late afternoon. She liked minding the front of the shop while he baked, it was good for her to be in contact with people again. She had holed herself in Haymitch's house at first but… That was exactly why she had left the Capitol in the first place: she couldn't deal with the self-imposed loneliness anymore and the loneliness was still preferable to the insults in the streets. People in Twelve weren't exactly thrilled by her presence but they were warming up to her. It was slow work to get accepted, to find a place to belong but it felt more possible there than it had been in the Capitol. At least, in Twelve, she had people who loved her and accepted her for who she was.
"About time." Haymitch commented, glancing up at her before looking through the window. "The storm's going to kick up soon."
"Yes, Peeta said so." she answered, dropping a kiss on his cheek on her way to the electric kettle. She needed something warm. "He won't open the bakery tomorrow."
"Does that mean we can sleep in?" he snorted, keeping on slicing tomatoes. She supposed it meant they were eating a salad that night.
She rolled her eyes at him. "You sleep in everyday."
"I don't sleep in with you everyday." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively but it soon turned serious. "You could use the extra sleep. You look tired."
Having nightmares every night would do that to a person.
"Really, Haymitch." she chided him, clicking her tongue while fishing a mug from the cupboard and dropping a bag of strawberry tea in it. "Hinting that a lady looks less than her best is bad form." She turned around and leaned against the kitchen counter to watch him, waiting for the water to boil. She flashed him a cheeky smile. "Besides, are you telling me that sleeping in with me wouldn't end in sleeping with me?"
"Lots of perks to sleeping in, sweetheart." he smirked. He nodded to the wooden dresser. "Your mail came in."
"Oh, good." she hummed, pouring hot water in the mug and dropping it on the table while she went to retrieve her mail. There was a stack of it but she wasn't surprised. She had it redirected from the Capitol to Twelve and that wasn't quick by any means. "By the way, I was thinking… Would you mind terribly if I bought new curtains for the bedroom? Yours are so ghastly…" Brown and frayed at the edges, never mind the layer of dust even her best efforts couldn't shake off. "Mrs Elacott told me she just had a new shipment of fabrics…" The old woman was one of the nicest people to Effie in the District. She was a friend of Sae and as far as Sae was concerned, any friend of Katniss and Haymitch was a friend of hers. "Do you know she asked me if I wouldn't mind looking at a few new templates too? She's wondering what to order for next season. She certainly could use my help. Her shop isn't exactly at the highest of fashion…"
He dropped his stock of sliced tomatoes in the salad bowl and walked to the sink to wash his hands.
"If you're left in charge of the clothes shop, Twelve will be overrun by clowns soon." he snorted.
She sorted through the mail distractedly, glancing up at him with pursed lips. "As I have told you many times, your sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired. You think you are funny but you are really not."
She made piles : bills, advertisement, junk and letters.
"Wasn't trying to be funny, sweetheart." he deadpanned, pouring himself a glass of liquor.
She spared him a glare. Fashion, as one would have it, wasn't something she could truly follow anymore. Concessions had to be made because of Twelve's weather. Nowadays instead of fine silk and beautiful puffy dresses, she wore woolen tights and woolen dresses – although she had simply refused the terrible colors in store in that place and had ordered them from the Capitol. She glanced down at her outfit with satisfaction : the woolen tights were stripped with bright colors and her apple green dress was, if not fashionable, at least lovely. She loved colors and she would make no apologies for it.
Haymitch went outside to check on the geese and feed them before the storm truly hit while she drank her tea and examined her bills. She estimated she was on the good side on her back account limit but not by much. She would need a job, she mused, something paid as much as she loved helping Peeta out. She wondered if Mrs Elacott would be willing to buy a few of her clothing designs for her shop. It might be a good solution.
She had just finished her cup of tea and Haymitch had just walked back in the kitchen, slapping snow off himself and putting it everywhere, when she reached for the first letter with shaky fingers. The familiar dread and anguish were coiling tightly in her stomach but she forced herself to go on.
She relaxed a little when she realized it was from Elis, a woman she hadn't seen in three years but with whom she used to go out to parties a lot. She was asking about borrowing some money because times in the Capitol were difficult and surely the rebel escort had some to spare. Effie had barely enough to keep her head above the water now, money had trickled by very quickly after the rebellion. She put the letter on the left – she would answer it if nothing else.
The second one was what she had expected in the first place. The words were harsh, the tone angry and she licked her lips when she had finished, folding it back in its envelope and placing it on the right.
The third was nasty, not just angry but…
"You've got bad news or what?" Haymitch frowned, nursing a warm cup of something that was undoubtedly spiked with more liquor. "You're all…" He waved his hand to illustrate his point.
"I am fine, thank you." she answered, but her voice was strangled and when she reached for the fourth letter, her hands were shaking so badly she had trouble opening the envelope.
"Bullshit." he scoffed, taking a seat next to her. He reached for the letter she had just placed down and she quickly grabbed his hand.
"Don't." she warned.
That made him frown. "Why? They're from your boyfriends?"
It was a joke and not a joke all at once. Perhaps it was his way of inviting a conversation about their relationship, something they should have had a long time ago when she had first showed up at his door or even when she had migrated from the guestroom to his bedroom. Talking about them wasn't as easy as it sounded, though, and they were not doing so bad in that limbo of undefined.
"It's nothing." she answered.
"Doesn't look like nothing." he insisted. His curiosity was piqued and there was nothing more terrible than Haymitch's curiosity being piqued. He wouldn't relent until he had been given an explanation.
She averted her eyes. "It will make you angry."
He turned the hand she was still gripping so their palms slid against each other.
"'Cause they're really from your boyfriends?" he asked warily.
"Oh, will you stop!" she hissed. "You are the only one I… Why do think I sleep with you? As payment for the roof over my head and the meals?" She tore her hand away and opened the fourth envelope, ignoring his puzzled expression.
"Alright." he said. "What's going on, princess?"
"Nothing." she repeated, unfolding the piece of paper. Her eyes darted over the page quickly. This one was mild, full of resentment and bitterness but it wasn't the worst by far. She placed it with the rest anyway. With a deep breath she grabbed the fifth. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Haymitch picking up the one she had just discarded but she said nothing. If he wanted to see so badly, let him.
His expression grew thunderous with every line he read.
"Who's that guy?" he growled.
"They would hardly sign them, would they?" she hummed. "That defies the purpose."
The fifth was bad, very very bad. A cold sweat ran down her spine and suddenly she was entirely too hot. She tugged at the collar of her dress.
"They?" he spat, scanning the other letter before snatching the one she was still holding. She didn't protest, she simply reached for the next one with her trembling fingers but he covered her hands with one of his, stilling them while he read. His voice became tight and rough with anger. "How long has this been going on?"
She shrugged her ignorance. "A few weeks after the war? I signaled it to the authorities but they hardly care about the surviving escort's problems. And Plutarch said as long as I didn't get two from the same person I would probably be fine. He suggested moving but I couldn't afford it."
"Probably be fine? Probably doesn't cut it for me. I want you safe not probably safe." he snapped. "You told Plutarch and you didn't tell me?"
"You had more urgent problems. The children…" she argued and then sighed. "It is really not as bad as it seems. They're just letters, it's…"
"They're threat letters, Effie." he cut her off, waving the fifth one. "This one wants to cut you to pieces, the other want you to off yourself…"
"They're just words." she murmured.
"No, they're not." he scorned, snatching the pack of letters she had left in front of her and moving away to the kitchen counter. "I don't want you wandering away without one of us anymore."
"Haymitch…" she sighed.
"No." he said. "You listen to me, those people, they're angry and desperate and you're the only target they have left." No more escorts, no more Gamemakers… Aside for Plutarch, she was the only living person they could associate with the Games and nobody would ever go against Plutarch Heavensbee. Haymitch's face softened. "It takes only one lunatic, sweetheart." He shook his head, dropping the read letters in the trash. "You should have told me before."
"I am not in any kind of danger." she argued, pressing the tips of her fingers against her eyes. She didn't know who she was trying to convince.
"Sure, you're not." he scoffed. "So that guy who wants to tie you up and carve your body with a knife, he's not so dangerous, right?" He crumpled the sixth letter in a ball and tossed it in the bin. He barely glanced at the seventh. "This one says you should hang yourself. Nice and proper for a Capitol. What do you think? Should I go see if the kids have some rope to spare?"
"Stop it…" she begged.
"Why?" he snarled. "They're not dangerous." His eyes darted over the eighth, his lips pursed so tight they looked almost white. He tore that one in small pieces and she didn't dare ask what was in it. Some people didn't just want to kill her, some had dark and twisted fantasies. The ninth he actually tossed on the table. "Friend of yours asking for money." She wordlessly placed it with the one from Elis. The three remaining letters followed the other ones in the trash. He grabbed the bottle of liquor and took a long mouthful. His hands were shaking – with anger or fear, she didn't know. "You should have told me before. If they know your address in the Capitol, they can find you here."
She longed to go back in time to the moment she had come back home. She should have known better than opening those letters while he was around to see it. They could have been snuggling together on the couch in front of a roaring fire by now.
"Do you want me to leave?" she asked in a small voice. "If you think there is any danger… It wasn't my intention to put any of you in danger. I…"
"Don't be stupid." he interrupted. "We don't get death threats."
"Plutarch said…" she argued.
"Plutarch can kiss my ass." he growled. "We're being careful from now on, get it? You don't go anywhere without me or one of the kids." He must have glimpsed the reluctance of her face because he relented. "For now, at least. Effie, I'm not losing you again. We're not taking any risks. There are angry people and sick people. You've got both in there." He nodded to the bin before taking a sip of liquor. "You're not reading those anymore either."
"Oh, are you controlling my mail as well as my movements now?" she chuckled bitterly, jutting her chin in the air.
"I'm not trying to control you, I'm trying to protect you." he replied coldly.
"You will excuse me, I do not see the difference." she retorted. "I am fine, Haymitch. I can handle myself. No one is going to track me down here to… To do what? What they describe in those letters? It's…"
"How does it feel when they tell you to kill yourself?" he asked. "In your state, how does it feel?"
In your state. She resented the wording. She was still trying to find her footing after months in prison, true, but she liked to think she was doing pretty well all things considered. She was dealing or trying to.
"In my state." she spat. "You have no room to talk or judge, Haymitch."
"I'm not judging." he denied. "I'm saying. You're still fragile. How many letters will it take for you to think it's actually a good idea?"
"I won't commit suicide." she whispered, turning her head away. "It is undignified."
"Yeah, drugs too." he remarked. "How close did you come with the sleeping pills again?"
"You love to toss that back in my face, don't you?" she snarled, pushing her chair back and leaving the room before she could truly lose her temper.
She headed to the living-room and picked up her knitting kit on her way to the window seat. It wasn't the most comfortable even though she had added cushions but she liked being able to look outside. The heavy coat of snow covering everything was beautiful in a way it would never have been in the Capitol. The needles clicked violently in the otherwise silent room but she only managed a few rows before he appeared, his face schooled into something resembling detachment.
She wasn't exactly surprised when he plucked her knitting from her hands and nudged her to her feet. Still she didn't meet his eyes, too annoyed to force herself to be the mature one on this subject. He brushed his fingers against her cheek, retracing the line of her cheekbone until she finally looked up. Then and only then did he tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips. He tasted like green tea and that awful liquor that always brought tears to her eyes. It was familiar and welcome to her frayed nerves.
"I'm worried." he confessed against her mouth in a muffled mumble that she had trouble deciphering.
"I won't do anything idiotic." she promised. "I am doing better here, Haymitch. I love being here."
"It doesn't mean it's safe if they're after you." he argued with a sigh. "Look, I'm not trying to be a controlling ass, I'm just…" He let his sentence trail off.
"Worried." she finished.
"Yeah." he shrugged. "It's not like people don't know where I live. How long will it take them to realize you moved here?"
"I didn't move here." she frowned. "This is temporary. Just…"
"Is it?" he snorted. "'Cause it's been two months, sweetheart, and it feels pretty permanent to me."
She leaned against him and he immediately wrapped his arms around her. "I'm confused as to what we are arguing about now."
"We're not arguing." he grumbled. "Just… You don't need to read those letters. I don't know if it's some kind of twisted punishment you impose yourself or what… But you don't need to read them."
"There is some truth to them." she argued. "I was an escort. I did the things they accuse me of."
"Everything isn't black or white." he sighed in her neck. "I've learned that the hard way. We need to move on, sweetheart, learn to live again. Try to. For the kids if nothing else. We're both pretty fucked up for good but they have a shot at moving on for real."
He had a point, of course. Haymitch would never totally heal, he had spent too many years in hell for that and she had had her own share of hellish situations. The children were young and in love though and that might be just enough for them to heal with time.
"I won't read the letters anymore." she surrendered. "But I refuse to live in fear of someone murdering me. It is too… We are at peace, Haymitch. I need to feel at peace. I feel safe with you, it will have to be enough. I don't want a bodyguard every time I step out and we won't impose that to the children." She knew him though so she amended. "I will be careful, stick to the main roads and I won't go out after dark without you, Katniss or Peeta."
He wasn't entirely pleased but he knew he wouldn't get better. "Deal."
They sealed the agreement with a kiss.
Yet she wasn't exactly surprised when, in the following weeks, he suddenly had business in town every time she needed to go out. It annoyed her but she held her tongue because she knew it was beyond his control. He needed to make sure she was safe. She didn't think he would have been able to bear losing someone else.
The letter diminished after a few months until they stopped completely.
Out of sight, out of mind, she mused.
It was a good thing.
They started healing for good.