44.

Her hands on her hips, Effie studied her options with an increasingly displeased pout.

She had used some of the numerous hangers in the wardrobe so she could have a visual, so she could see and compare and… Nothing looked good. And she would need to look good.

But the clothes seemed to be intent on irking her.

On the very left hung the pink dress she had worn at the wedding, added to the selection on a whim really. Next to it, there was her grey crumpled jumpsuit, easy to manage because of the zipper. To the jumpsuit right there were the grey pants and grey button-up shirt. And on the very right, picked up as an afterthought – and still before the dress – there was a combination of grey pants, grey tank top and Haymitch's black woolen jacket.

Everything was creased beyond repair anyway.

"Do you think the jumpsuit is too casual?" She sighed, unable to decide what looked best.

It was frustrating.

She couldn't even begin to guess what looked best.

And Haymitch, of course, was no help. He was lying on his back on the bed, an arm tossed across his eyes to block the light, absolutely uninterested in her quiet meltdown.

She whacked his sock-clad foot. "Haymitch!"

"What?" he groaned, his foot twitching.

He still didn't take his arm off to look at the selection she had made. "You're not listening to me."

"I've never listened to you when you're ranting about stupid things, I'm not starting now." he retorted, a bit harshly.

He wasn't having a good day.

Somehow, the liquor kept reappearing in the room every time they both left it unattended for too long. Effie suspected someone really wanted to tempt him into going back to his old ways and weren't bothering to be subtle about it. She had lost count of the number of decanters and bottles she had poured down the drain. It seemed like a waste, too.

Still, she had seen the looks he was giving the liquor before she disposed of it and she was a bit scared he would give in eventually. He was trying to hide it from her but she knew it had all taken its toll on him: Finnick, Prim, the dead children, Katniss… She didn't understand the Coin situation entirely but she had pieced enough together to see the ugly picture.

And, if she hadn't already been a bit ambivalent about Thirteen, the few trials she had caught on TV would have cemented her opinion. It was… She hadn't really meant to watch The Purge as it was called but in the last week, live trials had been airing on TV, always followed by executions. This could have been her fate. Maybe the people deserved it, maybe they did not… It still didn't seem very…

Haymitch didn't like her watching.

Some faces had seemed so familiar… Like an echo of something… But she didn't recognize any of them and none of them had triggered an episode. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or not about that.

She had caved and gone back to Doctor Aurelius in the end, if only because wandering around the Mansion always triggered headaches and the permanent feeling of déjà-vu was slowly driving her mad. They were trying new tricks to distract her, to allow her to anchor herself in the moment, to allow her to function…

None of it was pleasant.

She was starting to feel frayed at the seams.

"It's important." she argued, turning back to the clothes. Her eyes kept traveling back to the pink dress. "I want to look nice."

"You look nice in anything." he mumbled.

Her lips twitched but she didn't fall for that. "Were you always so smooth?"

"Nah, you've got me well trained." He let out a sigh and finally, finally lifted his arm to look at her selection. "It's too cold for a top, even with a jacket. The controlled weather's gone, it's winter out there, sweetheart."

She let out a sigh of her own. "Yes, but does it look good?"

His grey eyes studied her a little too attentively. "Thought you didn't care for fashion anymore?"

She couldn't say she truly did. She had never really second-guessed in Thirteen. Everyone wore the same thing… But here it was different. Most people still wore grey but there were people from different Districts who wore colors or different sort of outfits – prettier ones. Plutarch was always wearing suits in various colors and his assistant was back to nice-looking dresses…

"I just want to look good." she insisted. "Tomorrow is a big, big, big day!"

She didn't know why she put so much cheer in her voice or why she made herself sound so upbeat. She did things like that sometimes now. Or, suddenly, she would find herself talking in a haughty voice, careful with her pronunciation of every syllable. Doctor Aurelius seemed to think it was the city drawing it out of her… She wasn't sure she liked it.

"I'm sorry it took so long." Haymitch said in a careful tone.

It had taken a whole week and Effie had been impatient and relieved in turn but the next day, they would finally visit her family and…

"I'm nervous." she admitted but didn't give him time to comment. "I think I should wear the dress."

She didn't really want to because that dress was forever associated to Finnick's wedding and it hurt to think about him but it felt like the right choice. She hadn't been allowed out of the Mansion, apparently the city still wasn't so safe and Haymitch didn't want her going anywhere without protection anyway, but every Capitol she had seen inside the Mansion or on TV was always dressed-up, so it stood to reason her parents would like her better if she was wearing a pretty dress, right?

"Effie…" he said, still in that careful tone of his.

"But I cannot wear the dress…" She made a face as she caught sight of her reflection in the big mirror mounted on the wardrobe. She tried to avoid her reflection as a rule but there was no avoiding the truth when she was only wearing panties and one of Haymitch's shirts. "My legs are all hairy again… I cannot go out with hairy legs. Can I borrow your razor?"

She might be better at it this time around and…

He scoffed. "No."

"Please, Haymitch, I will be careful. If I want to wear the dress…" she insisted.

"No." he cut her off. "And it's too cold for that dress anyway… You'd need stockings or something."

Stockings… She didn't have any of that. And she didn't have shoes to go with the dress anyway.

Still…

She brushed her fingers against the pink fabric. She was making a conscious effort to ignore the itch at the back of her head but she knew the dress was the right choice. She knew it so badly that the prospect of wearing something else was making the dread flare in her chest.

She went back to the jumpsuit.

She really didn't want to have to bother with buttons the next day and the shirt made her look shapeless anyway. The jumpsuit at least wasn't too baggy on her and…

"Sweetheart…" He sighed. "I think… Look, I don't want to put a damper on things but maybe it's best if you keep your expectations… low."

She turned to face him, a small frown on her face. "What do you mean?"

He seemed a bit embarrassed. "I mean… Maybe it's gonna go well. I hope it's gonna go well. But every time you went to see them in the past you came back to me upset so… I just don't want your feelings getting hurt."

Her frown deepened. He had hinted several times she wasn't close to her family but surely… "They must love me. Don't they? Family loves each other…"

He winced. "I'm sure they do. In their own way."

She took a moment to let that sink and then pressed her fist against her stomach. The dread wouldn't go away. It wasn't really nerves, she mused, it really truly was dread. "Do you think I feel so itchy because I know it is going to be an utter disaster? I may not have memories but my feelings so far have been quite reliable."

And there she was, talking weirdly again…

She pressed her fist harder against her stomach.

"It's gonna be fine. Whatever you wear." he promised, his face softening. "If they turn into assholes, we can always leave."

But she didn't want them to turn into… that.

She wanted them to love her.

She wanted…

With a pout, she gave up on choosing her clothes and crawled on top of him on the bed, easily finding the familiar spot to snuggle in between his arm and his side. He curled his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

"What was your mother like?" she asked, curious.

She had been trying to imagine her own mother but she was drawing a blank every time.

Attitude, Euphemia.

The voice came and went, forgotten as soon as it had flashed in her mind.

She couldn't begin to imagine her mother or what she was like but every time she tried, it filled her with that same sense of dread she was currently experiencing. Never mind her father or her sister.

Lost to those considerations, it took her almost a whole minute to realize Haymitch had tensed next to her.

It was another one of those things she had forgotten about, wasn't it? He didn't like to talk about his childhood or his family or…

She should have remembered because he had told her he didn't like it before and…

"She was… kind." he breathed out before she could apologize. "Always had a smile for everyone. She was… practical too. She was good at making things last." He paused for a long moment, long enough that Effie opened her mouth. She didn't have time to say anything though. "She wanted us to be able to be independent if we needed to… She made sure we knew how to cook, how to mend clothes, how do to laundry… Hell, she hated the laundry so that was always our chore… We had to go all the way to the stream… No running water… It wasn't that bad… Except in winter. Winter was…" He swallowed hard. "She invented stories for us." He snorted. "Fuck, she bribed us with stories so we'd do the laundry for her. It was… She was good at that. Stories. Made the hungriest nights easier."

It was difficult to imagine what he was describing.

Having to go out in the cold to wash your clothes…

Actually, she didn't even know how to wash clothes at all… In Thirteen, there had been people whose job it was to do the laundry and here… Here the clothes disappeared from the hamper and came back folded on the bed. Like magic.

"Is that why you like to read so much?" she asked. "It reminds you of her stories?"

"Maybe…" His voice was a bit faint, his gaze was far away, lost to the ceiling. "School in Twelve… It barely teaches you how to write and read, you know. Mostly, it's all propaganda about how great the Capitol is… You don't need an education to go work in the mines, just how to do basic math and read instructions." He shook his head. "I liked learning stuff, still do. After I won… Books were expensive in Twelve but in the city they're almost cheap, I bought as many as I could… I taught myself things."

"That's wonderful." she whispered, propping her chin on his shoulder so she could see him better. "I wish I could read… Maybe I could teach myself more things too and feel less like a fool sometimes."

He caught the hint of vulnerability in her voice. Of course, he did.

"None of this is your fault, sweetheart. You shouldn't feel bad about not knowing how to do some things." he chided her gently.

"It's hard to remember when everyone stares at you because you take ten minutes fixing your shoelace in public." She pouted. "It's my own fault. I should be better at it by now. I practiced but… Sometimes it feels like my brain doesn't want to cooperate."

"One day at a time." he reminded her.

"I know…" She rested her cheek on his shoulder again, not keen on seeing the sympathy on his face. Sometimes it was a little too close to pity. She knew he would be horrified if he realized what that expression looked like on his face because he didn't like pity either but… If she had learned anything it was that you couldn't always control yourself.

"I've got more time now." he said awkwardly. "Ain't like they want me to help with anything… Katniss's doing better too… I'm gonna find you better books than this Thirteen shit, we can get to it seriously. And Annie's been helping too, yeah?"

"I don't seem to be good at it." She pouted. "Maybe I'm too…"

"Don't say you're too dumb." he warned. She obediently swallowed the words back. "With the proper books, I'm sure you're gonna be reading in no time."

She hoped so because she was very tired of not being able to. Every day it was a problem in one way or another. Even on TV there were always things written everywhere that she couldn't decipher, it was… Annoying. And frustrating. And it made her feel bad about herself.

"Would she have liked me?" she asked, a bit hesitant.

Haymitch frowned. "Who?"

"Your mother." she hummed, back to worrying about what the next day would bring. Why did that translate to what his mother would have thought of her, she didn't know, but somehow it seemed important to know.

Again, he tensed.

He doesn't like the subject, she reminded herself, irritated that she had made the same mistake twice in such a short time.

He snorted. "You're kind of an acquired taste, princess."

She pursed her lips, mulling that over. The meaning seemed obvious. "Does that mean she would have hated me?"

"She'd have liked you. Eventually." he countered. His hand slowly brushed up and down her arm a few times and she propped her chin up again so she could watch him. He looked thoughtful but when he met her eyes, that turned into a small wince. "Your mother hates me."

The statement was plain. A statement of facts, not a complain.

"I love you." she retorted. "She will have to deal with it."

A spark of amusement danced in his grey eyes. "I'm just saying… She won't like that I'm with you tomorrow. Me being here… It won't make anything easier."

She frowned, instinctively grabbing a fistful of his shirt. "I want you to come with me."

The prospect of the visit was already turning her into a nervous wreck, there was no way she would go through with it without him for moral support. Doctor Aurelius had advised her not to push it if it became too much for her, that they could always go back later and that there was no point in her making herself sick or uncomfortable.

Without Haymitch… Without Haymitch she didn't think she would even manage to get to the door. She needed him. She…

"I'm coming." he promised quickly. "Don't get worked-up. Of course, I'm coming. I'm not tossing you to the wolves…"

She hadn't realized just how quickly she had started to breathe until he remarked on it. She slowed down her breathing, falling back on the exercises she had practiced with Doctor Aurelius, until her head didn't feel like it was spinning again.

Haymitch waited until she was alright to speak. His hand had drifted to her back and was rubbing it in comforting circles. "I was just trying to say, it might not go too well. I didn't tell them you didn't remember shit in my letter. It seemed like the sort of things you explain in person so… I just said you've been injured."

"Do you think they will not like me because I'm too broken?" She didn't like how she sounded. Like a lost little girl. Or…

"No, sweetheart…" He sighed. "I'm thinking from what I know about your mother she's likely to jump at my throat the moment she spots me so… I guess I'm just saying… It's okay if they're shitty with me. You don't have to get involved."

She sat up, her hand still on his chest, and stared down at him, her eyebrows furrowed. "It is certainly not okay."

He waved his hand in a dismissive way. "Tomorrow's about you, princess. Don't worry about…"

"It is not okay." she interrupted in a growl. "And if they are mean with you, it will make me very angry and I do not have a problem letting them know. I don't remember them so if I don't have to see them again I won't miss them."

She sounded like a petulant child to her own ears.

He must have thought so too because he snorted. "You know I dig the protective urges… But it's really fine, Effie."

It wasn't fine but she could see he wouldn't move from his position. She wanted to lighten up the mood.

She straddled his hips, not quite unhappy when his hands shot to her waist and then slid down – under the shirt – to not quite grope her. It was a shame he was still dressed, truly…

"Are you sure I cannot convince you to lend me that razor?" she purred. "I really think the pink dress would be the best choice…"

"There's no way you're using my razor again." He shook his head, his lips stretching into a smirk. "But you can try to convince me all you like…"

She tried and failed to resist the urge to stick out his tongue at him.

How unladylike…

The thought was easily pushed aside because his eyes had darkened with lust. He did so enjoy her tongue…

"You could do it for me." she pointed out. "And then you could shave yourself…"

He lifted his hand, holding it in front of her so she could watch the intermittent tremors. "Trust me, you don't want me holding a blade anywhere near your skin." He lifted his eyebrows. "Besides, last time I shaved you said you didn't like it…"

"I like the stubble. If you shaved now, it would be stubble tomorrow morning." she grumbled, pouting a little.

He wouldn't help her shave but he had no qualm putting that blade to his throat. The beard had been reduced to mostly unkempt stubble ever since they had been in the city.

"You want to get rid of your body hairs so much, you can ask your mother about it tomorrow." he suggested. "I'm sure she knows how to take care of that without you putting blood all over the bathroom…"

She knew he was joking but that didn't seem that unreasonable. Surely her mother would be happy to help her with that kind of questions, wouldn't she? Mothers were supposed to help. She certainly liked to help Katniss and Peeta… And she wasn't even their real mother. She was just… They were hers.

"You are no fun." she declared.

His hands kneaded her butt twice. "I can be fun, sweetheart…"

She was vexed and refused to take the bait.

She made very sure she was sitting on his upper thighs instead of on a sensitive area.

He didn't seem to terribly mind that she wasn't taking this further.

Then again, they had been fooling around almost every night for the past week… It had been fun. As it turned out, Haymitch knew a lot of way to get them off without actually… going all the way. But it was getting ridiculous.

And yet she still felt the flutter of nerves when she let herself think about…

"You said we didn't want children…"

The sudden change of topic – a topic that was clearly a complicated one too – seemed to throw him off because he relocated his hands to her waist and the way he was watching her now was more wary than seducing.

She toyed with the hem of his shirt because her hands hardly could stay still when she was nervous.

"So?" He sounded strangely guarded, as if he expected her to revisit the subject.

She didn't want to revisit it. It was closed, in her opinion. He didn't want them and she didn't see how she would be in any state to take care of a baby any time soon. The girl and the boy were more than enough, they had their hands full as it was.

"What kind of… What kind of contraception do we use?" she hesitated.

The subject made her a bit ill-at-ease for some reason but it was stupid to be embarrassed about this, wasn't it? Every time she found the courage to broach the sexuality topic with Doctor Aurelius he told her it was important for her to discuss things with Haymitch freely. And, for the most part, they did. She was a lot more confident in that area. She was…

She wanted to take it further, really.

Soon.

It seemed stupid to feel so nervous about actual penetration when they had done so many other things and she knew it would feel good… She knew he would make it good for her.

And yet she still was…

But she wanted to be ready on all fronts and there were practical considerations to take into account if she was serious about it.

"Oh…" His body seemed to sag with relief. "We haven't used condoms in a while. You've got a contraceptive implant." He made a face. "You used to. You don't have it anymore. I asked Doctor Brown when we started…" He looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden and cleared his throat. "When you said you wanted us to do… stuff. Just in case you wanted to take it further. You know."

He seemed certain she was about to get mad.

Because he had asked her doctor for personal information?

They were a little past this at this point, she figured. Technically speaking, she still couldn't do anything without his approval. That cursed plastic bracelet around her wrist ensured it.

"Who should I talk to about getting another one?" she asked him. There were special doctors for that sort of things, wasn't there? Her personal memory might be empty but she knew there were all kind of doctors for all kind of things.

"Ah… I don't know…" He looked ill-at-ease himself. "Thirteen don't have contraceptives so… Maybe a Capitol doctor?" He made a face. "You don't have to worry about that for now, sweetheart. It can wait. We don't have to…"

"Do anything I don't want." she finished, rolling her eyes. "But… I do want, Haymitch. Soon." She dared meet his eyes and flashed him a small smile. "And I should start worrying about things like this. I need to be able to take care of myself, memories or not…"

"Yeah… I know." His face softened. "But I can get us condoms so you've got time to figure it out. You didn't always have an implant, you were on the pill before. I don't know what the difference is. Besides the obvious. That's… out of my depths, sweetheart, you might want to talk to another woman."

"If it goes well tomorrow, perhaps I can ask my mother or my sister." she suggested.

"Yeah." He seemed relieved. "Yeah. Good idea. You must have a lady doctor somewhere in the city too… They'd probably know the name and everything."

"Your face is crimson." she teased, grinning at him.

"No, it ain't." he lied.

"Maybe my lady doctor can explain to me why I haven't had a period yet…" she hummed, a bit cruelly.

He made a face and closed his eyes but quickly opened then again, his expression turning determined. "You're trying to make me embarrassed but the joke's on you 'cause I can handle period talk. I'm a grown man and blood's blood."

She schooled her features in a perfectly innocent expression. "Do you happen to know what kind of methods I prefer using to deal with periods?"

He groaned and grabbed the pillow behind him to hit her with it. He didn't hit her very hard but she had problems tearing it away from his hands to whack him with it. He snatched the one next to him – her pillow – and there was a short struggle… He chuckled a lot and she shrieked…

She had a pretty good idea of how that would have ended up if a loud round of knocking on the suite's door hadn't interrupted the fun.

Panting a little, she let him roll them over so he was briefly on top of top of her. He planted a kiss on her lips.

"Tampons, by the way." he told her and then got out of bed and strode into the living-room part of the suite, apparently not caring that it was obvious he was a bit… happy.

It was probably best he still had clothes on after all, she mused, slowly rolling out of bed. By the time she reached the living-room, Johanna was pacing in circles like a caged lion around the glass and steel coffee table.

"They're all dead." she spat, barely sparing a glance for her. "The only one I could find was Enobaria. She's been locked up in her room in the Center all this time. Seems like the Secretary of War liked her, if you know what I mean. Only reason she's still kicking. You've got to give the bitch her dues, she's resourceful."

"It can't only be Enobaria." Haymitch scowled. "Didn't expect any victor who was in the city to have survived and I know the ones who joined rebel groups were targets… But there must be some out there."

Johanna shook her head. "None, Haymitch. I tracked them all down. They're all dead. We're all that's left. Seven of us. What are the fucking odds?"

"Not in your favor…" Effie whispered. They both turned to look at her – glare at her, in Johanna's case – and she winced. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

Words slipped out of her mouth like they had any sense in this place. But they had none. Not to her anyway.

"How's Enobaria doing?" Haymitch asked, letting her comment slide unaddressed. "She ain't my favorite person but…"

"She's fucking pissed." Johanna cut him off. "I had to fill her on everything she's missed. We had a blast." Sarcasm, Effie decided. Whoever this Enobaria was, it probably hadn't been a fun discussion. "I had her moved to the suite next to Annie's and mine. She ain't ready to play nice but… She'd rather stick with us."

Haymitch nodded as if it made sense to him. "The devil we know, right?"

"Yeah." Jo blew out a long breath. "This is bullshit, Haymitch. The Capitol didn't kill them all and tell me who'd go fight for them anyway? Even the Careers wouldn't have gone that far. If Snow had victors on his side, he'd have made propos with them and you know that…"

"Wild guess?" Haymitch scoffed. "Thirteen had their victors and didn't want Snow to get some of his own… Or Snow didn't want Thirteen to get more victors… They all got caught in the crossfire." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter anymore. We've got to stay in line."

Johanna stared at him like he had grown a second head. "Stay in fucking line? That's how you want to play this?"

"We don't have a choice, sweetheart." he countered. "Not for now."

Johanna's gaze darted to Effie and lingered there. "She's got you by the balls."

Effie frowned because she certainly didn't but Haymitch simply shrugged. "Yeah."

The younger woman sneered. "Well, I don't have…"

"You've got Annie to worry about." Haymitch interrupted. "Don't think she won't go there. We're gonna be fine as long as we do what we're told. The old rules still apply, Johanna."

The two of them had a weird long intense eye contact and then Haymitch slowly looked up at the ceiling before looking back at the young woman.

Johanna didn't look pleased but she nodded once. "Alright, old man. We do it your way. For now."

Haymitch nodded back and walked her back to the door.

There was nothing playful about him anymore when he turned to Effie again.

She didn't dare to ask what that exchange had been about.

I hope you liked it! Next week... The In-Laws! I'm taking bets on how it's going to go! Let me know!