Prompt: Could you please do a prompt in 13 where Johanna find out that haymitch didn't rescue Effie when he rescued the victors :)

Word of warning, it's a bit dark-ish.

Better Not To Remember

The first thing Johanna registered was the absence of pain but instead of making her relax, it made her tense with worry, fully anticipating the next lash. Something was placed on her arm. A hand. And she fought to open her eyes because seeing was better than guessing at what was going. She needed to know who was in charge of the torture today because the cruelty varied with the guards, they all had their preferences, all had their tricks…

The lights were harsh and she blinked.

Her mind was slow to catch up, sluggish in a way that wasn't natural. Drugged, she thought, she had been drugged. She would have welcomed the high if she hadn't been so sure it was a new game for them to play…

She tried to shrug the hand on her arm off, blinking more quickly to get her sight back.

"Take it easy, sweetheart." a gruff voice said. "You're in Thirteen. Safe."

The voice was familiar enough that Johanna stopped struggling and turned her head to the side. It took her several more seconds to finally be able to see him through the glare of the neon. They had been kept in the dark for so long… It wasn't natural light though and she immediately longed for the sun on her face.

Haymitch was sitting on a stool, clad in grey garbs and a black beanie tugged low on his forehead. She didn't trust this. This was too good to be true.

"Tell me something only you can know." she croaked out, in a tone she had meant demanding but that came out weak.

He reached for the bedside table, grabbed the cup of water and brought the straw to her lips. She sucked on it eagerly, relieved when the taste of clear water filled her mouth. She could have cried. How long had it been since she had clean water to drink?

"Seventy-Second Hunger Games." he smirked, more fond than mocking. "You drank too much. Do I have to say what you did next or is that enough?"

Her eyelids fluttered open and shut, the shame she had felt that night coming back to haunt her, she brushed that aside. "They could know that. Bugs and shit."

"Yeah, they could probably know everything I know, too." he shrugged. "You've been part of the rebellion for three years. Finnick recruited you. That's good enough for you? This is real, sweetheart."

"Stop calling me sweetheart." she grumbled. "I swear one day I'm going to kill you for that."

"You're still your charming self. Good. I was a little scared they had destroyed your fire in there." he taunted.

She shot him a mild glare but couldn't quite muster the strength to get angry. The drugs weren't helping.

"Cresta?" she asked because Annie had been her top one priority ever since she had found her in those cells.

"Probably being fucked out of her brain by her lover boy right now." he snorted and then shook his head. "No, not their style, is it? They're probably cuddling."

He toyed distractedly with something on his wrist and it took her a few seconds to place the bangle Finnick had been wearing during the Quell. Token. But not Finnick's.

"Peeta?" she went on, licking her chapped lips. "They did something to him. I don't know…"

"Highjacked, yeah." he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "We got it when he tried to kill the girl. They're not sure how to reverse it. Any idea is welcome."

She shook her head a little. "I don't know what they did. One day they started taking him and every time he came back he was… It's like they fucking brainwashed him. He started talking bullshit about your stupid bird… Trinket tried to talk some sense into him but when she tried to hug him he attacked her." She shook her head again, her memories more fuzzy than she would have liked. "Had to pry him off her." And that had cost her a punch in the face. The guards had seemed happy though. They had locked Peeta elsewhere after that and she figured it had been some kind of test. "Where's she anyway?"

Haymitch's face was stricken, his fingers clenched around the golden bangle.

"Effie." he repeated, his voice flat. "Effie was with you."

She searched his grey eyes but found nothing but devastation there and she almost laughed. Almost.

"You're kidding me." she spat. "You're fucking kidding me. You left her there?"

The beanie was torn from his head and he ran a nervous hand through his dirty hair, a spark of panic in his eyes. He started pacing in the small grey room, back and forth, his hands pulling on his hair. "We didn't know she was there. They would have taken her if they had found her. They…"

"She was in my fucking cell." Johanna cut him off in a growl. "We were curl up together to keep warm. How did they fucking miss that?"

Realization dawned on Haymitch's face. "She wasn't on the list. She wasn't on the fucking list!"

In a sudden burst of anger, he hurled the beanie at the floor and stomped on it.

"You left her there." she cackled. "You fucking left her there!"

"Stop laughing!" he snarled, slamming his fist into the mattress next to her foot. "You think it's funny?"

"Funny?" Jo sneered. "They tore us to pieces. And you know what all your stupid bitch could say along: Haymitch will come for us. She says that. Every fucking day. Haymitch will come for us. Fuck, I'm sick of those words. And you fucking left her behind. Again."

"I wasn't there!" he snapped defensively. "They wouldn't let me go. They wouldn't let me…"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." she hissed. "You want to know what they did to her down there?"

"No." he replied, almost begging, but Johanna wasn't feeling merciful. She didn't like Trinket but they had been sharing a cell for what felt like years now – time felt longer in hell, or so they said – and that created bonds.

"First thing was stripping her of her Capitol shit." she spat. "She didn't deserve it, they said, 'cause she's a District whore. That's on you, by the way. She's your bitch. That's how they call her. Abernathy's bitch." She waited for him to tell her to shut up again but he remained silent so she went on. "I wasn't there for that but she told me all about it. Left her naked in a room for hours. No wig, no make-up, no jewels… Funny what she focuses on, right? I would have been more concerned about the naked part." He didn't react, he simply grabbed the metallic edge of the bed and held it so hard his knuckles turned white. "They tore her fake nails off and then her real ones too. They beat her a bit and when they were absolutely sure she knew nothing, they taunted her about you. Told her you were dead and gone, told her you played her. Then they tossed her in a cell with Cresta."

"Did they…" he rasped out, his eyes and voice hollow.

"Did they what?" she sneered. "Cut her to pieces? You bet. She's resilient, your bitch, I'll give her that."

"Don't call her that." he snapped.

"Why? She almost thinks it's her name now." she snickered. "Abernathy's bitch. She cried when they shaved her head. Sobbed for hours like it was the worst thing. Saw her cry in pain before but that's okay, we all did. But that, that was something else." She pursed her lips tight at the memory. "Stupid bitch. You would have thought she was dying."

He closed his eyes and bowed his head and she figured there was a story there. She didn't tell him about shoving her until she stopped crying. She didn't tell him how Trinket had crawled to her afterwards and how they had lied with their backs pressed together to keep warm and to reassure themselves nobody would attack them in the dark. The dark was the worst. You could barely see in that place.

"They use her to get the boy to talk." she continued, reaching for the drip of morphling. She studied the mechanism for a moment and then upped the dosage until she could feel the blissful feeling of the drugs running through her system. "Or me sometimes. Like I care if they beat her black and blue." She scoffed. "The boy cares though. Screams himself hoarse for her. That only make them laugh and hit harder."

"How bad is she?" he whispered and it sounded raw. "From you to Cresta, how bad is she?"

"They didn't touch Annie. Trinket and I wouldn't let them." Jo replied, turning her head away. She was sick of looking at him. Was Trinket still in the same cell? Was she huddling in a corner to keep warm in her tattered white prisoner uniform? "She's good at keeping them calm. Cresta and the boy…" she hummed distractedly, mixing past and present in her high. "She's good at making them believe in her bullshit. Haymitch will come for us. Bullshit, I told her. She's got no use now. They're going to kill her."

"They executed Portia and the boy's prep team." he said. "She wasn't with them. She still has value somehow. She still…"

"The stylist?" Jo frowned. "She's her friend, right? Destroyed, that one. Trinket said it's because of Cinna. Broken heart." She chuckled. "Broken's right."

"Portia's dead." Haymitch repeated and it took a second to sink in. "But they didn't kill Effie. They still think they can use her but for what? Propos? Did they ever say anything about…"

"Trinket doesn't do propos. She preps us." Jo cut him off, blinking back slumber. Her eyelids were closing though and she didn't want to fight this. She didn't want to care if Trinket was safe or not. She didn't want to think about her curled up all alone in their small cell, freezing and in pain. She didn't want to.

"Focus." Haymitch shouted, slapping her foot with enough strength that she startled awake.

They stared at each other for a moment and then she started laughing again. A bitter laugh.

"So much like them, Haymitch… Torture answers out of me. Go for it." she challenged. "Won't be easy, though. Pain and I are good friends now."

"Don't be stupid, I…" he spat and then passed a hand over his face. "Sorry. Sorry."

"It's not to me you should say sorry to." she hissed.

"What do they want with her?" he insisted. "Why keep her alive at all now?"

He was so stupid sometimes…

"Told you. 'Cause she's your bitch." she growled. "Why did they get Cresta at all?"

"I'm not Finnick and she's not Cresta." he countered. "We're not… It's different. It's nothing."

"Yeah?" she snorted. "Pray they don't get that or you won't have just her being tortured on your conscience."

"If I had known…" he mumbled. "If I had been there…"

"If, if, if…" she mocked. "Ifs mean nothing to her now. She's going to hate you. Right too."

"I tried." he scowled. "I tried to get her out of the Capitol the first time. I…"

"Like you tried to get me out of that arena?" she interrupted him. "Trying's not good enough."

She ignored him after that, letting go and succumbing to the blissful morphling induced sleep.

It was better not to remember.