47.
My name is Effie Trinket.
My name is Effie Trinket.
My name is Effie Trinket.
The mantra was looping in her head when her eyelids fluttered open.
My name is Effie Trinket.
People had names and she was a person and her name was Effie Trinket.
Had she forgotten?
With some difficulties, her eyes focused on the man sitting very close to the bed she was lying on. She was on her side, his hand was gently petting her hair. It was distracted, almost an afterthought, as if he had been doing that for a long time. Machines were beeping in the background. The smell… It smelled like… It smelled like a hospital.
It took her a few seconds to remember what a hospital was.
The man's grey eyes were searching hers.
Haymitch.
People had names and the man's name was Haymitch and her name was Effie Trinket and she loved him.
Yes.
There.
That was better, she thought tiredly, slowly blinking.
"Are you back with me, sweetheart?" he asked, sounding as exhausted as she felt.
Her whole body ached. It felt heavy too. Heavier than it should.
She licked her lips, opened her mouth to tell him she was back although maybe not entirely because she wasn't sure of much outside of the undeniable facts that she was Effie Trinket, he was Haymitch, and she loved him but her throat wouldn't cooperate.
"It's okay if you can't talk yet." he said quickly. "Always takes a moment to come back."
Did it?
And to come back from what?
Her head was fuzzy, confused.
"Can we do yes and no?" he insisted.
He had asked that before, hadn't he? Long ago. In a cupboard or a storage room or… He had been kneeling in front of her, looking all concerned, and he had asked her if they could do yes and no and…
Slowly she nodded.
"Are you back with me, princess?" he asked again. "Cause you woke up twice already but you weren't… there."
Where had she been then?
Where was she now?
She shrugged her ignorance.
His grey eyes were dark with worry but he forced a small smile. "It's okay. Next time, sweetheart."
Next time.
Yes, that sounded good.
She didn't fight it when the weight on her mind tried to take her again.
Another man came and went in her room at some point, talking about pet scans and waiting and…
She opened her eyes again a few times but things only came back gradually. She wasn't certain how long it took for her scrambled mind to finally become whole again.
"Haymitch…" was the first thing that slipped past her lips.
He hadn't moved from the chair at her side.
Or, if he had moved, he had always come back.
His eyes snapped to hers and he sat a bit straighter. "Are you back, sweetheart?"
"Yes…" It was a struggle to force the words to take form, to push them out of her mouth. "Think so."
"Good." He looked relieved. "Good. Let me call the doctor."
He stood up and pressed a hasty kiss to her forehead before rushing out of the room.
After that, it was more of the same as usual. Doctor Brown asking questions she answered as best as she could with monosyllabic words, a quick exam, Haymitch's worried gaze staring straight at her as if she was in any danger of vanishing.
"Do you know anything more?" he asked her once Doctor Brown was satisfied with her general state.
It made her happy that he hadn't asked if she remembered anything because it never felt like remembering. It felt like knowledge instead, equal to something she would have been told except those few information she knew deep down to be true.
It took her a while to sort through everything in her head but nothing jumped at her. It wasn't like her grandfather or the cells. It wasn't…
"I..." she struggled to push the words out. "Don't… think… so…"
It was terrible, every time, to watch the hope being snuffed from his gaze.
"So that was for nothing, then?" he scoffed, glaring at Doctor Brown as if he was responsible for this.
The doctor shook his head and shrugged. "We theorized triggering an episode would let her access some buried memories but there was no guarantee. Maybe the previous incidents were flukes or maybe whatever block there is in her mind was stronger than the emotional stimuli… The brain adapts… Perhaps her condition does too…"
Effie frowned, searching her mind harder, looking for anything that hadn't been there before… She was so busy trying to upturn her mind that she missed Doctor Brown excusing himself. In the end, all she managed to do was give herself a headache. Well… A bigger one than she already have.
Haymitch was angry but doing his best to hide it. She felt it all the same, it was simmering under his skin as he retook his chair.
"My… fault…" she whispered. "Wanted… to…" He didn't answer but averted his eyes, glaring at the linoleum floor instead. It was difficult to make her sore body cooperate but she pushed through the aching and the exhaustion, lifted a shaky hand and reached for him. He grabbed it immediately, cradled it between his, but still didn't look at her. "How… long…"
She didn't think it had been as bad as the last time.
She knew she had lost time to the fog but she didn't think…
"Less than a day." he grumbled. "I just hate it. You look at me and your eyes are empty. Nobody's home."
"Fog." she explained.
"I know." He sighed, finally dragging his eyes to hers. "I'm just scared one day you're not gonna find your way back."
She fumbled around until she could hook the tip of her fingers around the golden bangle on his wrist. "Always… Always… Come… Back… For… You…"
That was the promise, wasn't it?
His face softened and he leaned in so he could peck her lips. It was chaste and sweet.
It went a long way in making her relax.
"Tired…" she confessed.
"Rest, then." he encouraged. "I need to go check on the girl. I'll be back after, yeah? You're in the Mansion. I'm right around the corner if you need me." She nodded her understanding slowly. He lingered a moment longer, brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. "Do you still want your stuff from the penthouse?"
It took a while for her to figure out what he meant.
Already the trip to the penthouse felt more like a dream. She remembered but it was foggy. Like watching something from behind the other side of a glass wall full of steam.
The dresses, she recalled. "Yes."
"Okay. I'm gonna ask Plutarch to send someone." he promised. "Sleep now, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."
She didn't fight him on it and, true to this word, he was there when she woke up.
He seemed relieved by the fact she was able to actually have a proper conversation. No monosyllabic words, no stuttering, no struggling to get the words out… It was better. She was better.
And she wanted out of the hospital but Doctor Brown wasn't cooperative on the subject. He insisted on keeping her under watch a while longer and Haymitch agreed, no matter how much she pouted.
She hated the hospital.
Annie and Johanna visited her but while she was happy to see them, it didn't help her reign in her impatience.
"Another night." Haymitch grumbled, clearly annoyed with her. "You can handle another fucking night."
"Language." she chided.
He rolled his eyes.
She hated the hospital, she couldn't help it. It reminded her of the first few weeks in Thirteen, of having absolutely no clue who she was, of not feeling like a person at all…
To say she was happy to be allowed to leave the next morning was an understatement. Haymitch would have brought her back to their room first thing but she insisted on stopping to check on Katniss. The girl was doing much better, Aster told her, and they were talking of taking her out of the tank soon. They also stopped to check on Peeta, she hugged the boy for dear life and he was good enough to humor her.
Eventually, she was out of excuse and she had to let Haymitch drag her back to their suite, knowing he would insist on her resting some more.
She didn't want to rest.
She felt fine.
A bit sore and achy but fine.
"What the hell?" she exclaimed, the moment she was through their room's threshold.
Behind her, Haymitch snorted. "Language, sweetheart." She spared him a glare before surveying the big trash bags tossed randomly around the room with dismay. Clearly sensing she wasn't amused, he closed the door and made a face. "Yeah… So, the people I sent for your stuff weren't very careful… They tossed everything in bags and lumped them here… There are more in the bedroom."
"This is a mess." she hissed. "This is… This is not good. This is a mess. This isn't…"
"Hey." Haymitch cut her off with some urgency, planting himself in front of her to block her view of the trash bags, his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay. Sweetheart, I'll fix it, yeah? Just… Breathe."
She was getting worked up over this, wasn't she? Her heart was racing in her chest.
But she just couldn't…
"I hate it when it's messy." she panicked. "Nothing makes sense when it's messy. It's hard to make sense of things, you know. It's…"
"I know." he cut her off firmly. "I'm sorry. If I'd known you'd freak out so badly…"
She closed her eyes and leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against his throat. He propped his chin on her head, wrapped his arms around her…
This was good.
It grounded her.
"I need the bags gone." she whispered. "We can… We can pile things up in a corner. I will sort through them later, I think that would be alright, but I need the bags gone. I need the place to be clean."
"Okay. Sure. Whatever you need." he agreed immediately.
With the two of them, it wasn't such a daunting task despite the horrifying numbers of trash bags. It turned out her dresses took a lot of space, which explained why there were so many. But whoever had done the 'packing' hadn't only grabbed her wardrobe, two of the trash bags were full of shoes and the moment her fingers closed on one of the heels, she let out a squeal.
"Pretty!" she exclaimed, delighted, as she lifted the beautiful stiletto to better inspect it. Then she dove in the bag to find its twin and quickly peeled off her socks to put them on. She immediately loved it. She took a few careful steps around but despite the towering height of the heels, moving with them came naturally to her. And it was much, much better than the combat boots… "What do you think?"
She didn't wait for Haymitch's answer to upturn the bags containing the shoes, quickly pairing them up, often stopping to contemplate a particularly beautiful pair, almost purring with contentment once she had them all lined up… It was like a small rainbow.
There wasn't enough storage space in the bedroom but she got creative and lined them up beneath the window and on the window seal as if they were pieces of art in need of exposure. Which they were. The splash of colors was beautiful.
She loved them all so much she couldn't stop staring at them.
She was so lost to her contemplation that she startled when Haymitch planted a kiss against her neck.
"You and your shoes…" he mocked with enough affection to take the bite off. "Where do you want the clothes?"
They filled the dresser with the lingerie and the pajamas – she would have to sort through that later, she mused, because there were pieces she couldn't wear anymore, the corsets and their laces had to go and most of the clothes would be too large for her – and hung as many dresses as they could in the wardrobe along with her uniforms but there was no way to make everything fit. The dresses would need to be sorted too anyway, she figured as she eventually gave in and let Haymitch pile them up in a corner, as out of the way as possible so it wouldn't be too messy.
"This is a crime against fashion." she lamented as she watched the heap of fabrics on the floor.
"We're back to caring about fashion, I see…" he teased. "I knew the whole I don't care about dresses thing was a phase…"
She wrinkled her nose at him. "Maybe I just needed to see my dresses…"
She wasn't certain she would have said she cared for fashion but… The dresses and the shoes gave her some pleasure. She liked seeing them, touching them… And she suspected she would like wearing them…
She was already determined to never wear anything but her heels again.
She was taller with them, almost as tall as Haymitch, and it forced her to adjust her stance. Stand straighter, just her chin up a little… It gave her… confidence.
"Where do you want your beauty shit?" he asked, letting the fashion matter drop entirely.
Whoever had packed her dressing table had probably just swept everything in a trash bag without worrying about it. Some of the bottles of perfume were cracked, the jewelry was tangled together… It took her a moment to arrange everything on the dresser's surface as neatly as she could.
She wasn't sure what to do with all the make-up products so she dumped everything in the nightstand drawer – it barely closed.
The wigs… She told Haymitch he could toss them away along with the bags.
She didn't want to wear wigs. It seemed unpractical and she was certain it would itch. Her head hurt enough without her adding to it.
He looked a bit relieved.
She collapsed on the bed while he went to take care of the trash, feeling really tired all of a sudden. Her eyes had fluttered closed by the time he wandered back in the bedroom. She felt his hands wrapping around her ankles and she smiled at the familiar warmth…
"You wanna nap?" he asked, letting his hands slide down and slipping the pumps off her feet.
"I think I want a shower first…" she hummed. "I feel yucky."
"Your speech skills are improving by the minute." he mocked. "How about a bath? You haven't tried the bathtub yet. Ain't that bad if you fall asleep in the middle of it."
A bath did sound good.
She had never had one before.
"Are you joining me?" she replied, curling on her side to watch him.
His lips twitched, his grey eyes sparkling with amusement. She liked it that way. She hated it when he looked worried about her. "Could be convinced…"
She drifted off a little while he got everything ready but she shrugged the sleepiness off when it was time to move to the actual bathtub that occupied a whole corner of the room. It could have fitted three people easily but they ended up cuddling anyway and, she quickly decided, cuddling in warm lavender scented water was the best feeling in the world.
"This is my new favorite thing." she warned him, completely relaxed. "We're taking a bath every day from now on."
He chuckled in her ear, dropping a long kiss on her shoulder. "Just wait until you're feeling better and we can fool around…"
Well, now… Wasn't that opening nice perspectives…
She drifted off a little again at some point and only woke up because he was running his hand up and down her arm and calling her name. The water was cold.
"Sorry, did I fall asleep?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
"It's okay. Did too." He shrugged. "Should get out of there. Find some lunch."
"I could eat." she admitted, carefully getting out of the bathtub.
He was always quicker than she was in the bathroom so by the time she walked out, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, he was already dressed and ready to go down to the kitchens to get them something to eat. She kissed him before he left, smiling against his mouth.
Once she was alone, she toured the suite, making sure it didn't look as messy as it had earlier. She wasn't really happy with the heap of dresses in the corner or the clutter on the dresser but she would make do. On a whim, she opened the bedside table's drawer and contemplated the mess inside. Eventually, she pulled out the whole drawer and went to sit cross-legged in front of the wardrobe and the mirror mounted on the door.
She didn't know what she was doing. Her hands were moving on autopilot, her mind was empty and, for once, she didn't have a headache… She rummaged around for a minute, found a round compact, a brush that would have deserved to be cleaned… She started applying the make-up without a thought, humming a foreign melody under her breath…
Foundation powder… A few other products… Blending them in… Making her cheekbones look sharper… Her nose thinner… Some shine… Some blush…
Eyebrows… Brushed and painted with a thick brownish pen…
Eyeshadow… Yellow in the inner corner of the eyelid and green toward the end…
She couldn't find fake eyelashes but she had mascara and only a touch of it was enough to make her natural eyelashes look darker, longer, thicker…
There were a dozen of lipstick tubes… She chose a minty green one. Lined her mouth with a darker shade of green…
The moment she put the last brush down, the spell broke and she was staring at a stranger in the mirror.
Or perhaps not a stranger…
No…
The woman of Haymitch's pictures.
The glossy official looking ones.
A stranger of a sort.
She heard the door to the suite opening, Haymitch calling her name…
She couldn't move, enthralled by her reflection, by the woman staring back…
It felt a little like looking at a ghost.
Haymitch must have felt the same way because his breath audibly caught when he froze on the threshold. Their eyes met in the mirror but she quickly averted hers, suddenly uncomfortable with the image the glass gave her.
"I was wrong." she declared flatly. "I know something else I didn't before we went to the penthouse."
"Make-up stuff?" he guessed, an attempt at a joke no doubt.
"The Games' rules." she answered, her tone still devoid of any inflection. "All of them. By heart."
He tensed, crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the doorframe. "Anything else? Our tributes…"
"No." She shook her head. She wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that she didn't remember anything about the years spent watching children die with him. It was enough to know every little rule in the Games' playbook. It told her enough. "It was horrible, wasn't it?"
And people had watched the Games like sports when…
"Yeah." He sighed. "It was. But it's over now."
His voice had something definitive in it that told her she should move on from the subject.
But she couldn't. Not yet.
She brushed her fingers against the mirror, facing her reflection again. "This is my escort's face."
"It was your every day face." He shrugged. "You've seen your mom. Capitols always cake themselves with shit."
That was true, wasn't it? She had noticed with the few Capitols she had seen around.
But…
"Did you like it? When I looked like this?" she hesitated.
He let out a deep sigh and sat at the edge of the bed behind her so he could still see her in the mirror. "It's complicated, sweetheart. You used it like… It was your armor, yeah? I had my booze, you had your beauty shit."
"But is this the woman you love, Haymitch?" she insisted, her voice dropping a little.
Her fingers were still on the mirror pane.
He frowned. "Make-up, no make-up… You're the same. You always were."
"I am not so sure…" she countered, wrinkling her nose at this version of her. The escort. "I never want to be her again."
"Then, don't be." He shrugged. "But this is a part of you, princess. It's okay to move on but you can't just ignore it."
He had a point, she knew, and perhaps she would raise it with Doctor Aurelius later but for now…
"I don't think I want to wear that much make-up anymore." she told him.
"You won't get any protest from me." Haymitch snorted. "Always thought you looked like a clown when you put all that stuff on your face…"
She hauled herself off the floor, tossed a last look at her reflection, at the ghost staring back, and looked through the products on the dresser for a bottle she knew somehow would remove it all.
"Maybe some wouldn't be too bad." she commented. "To hide the bag under my eyes and to make me look healthier… And I do like lipstick… And maybe some eyeshadow wouldn't be too bad but nothing as bright as those colors… Let me try again."
"I got us sandwiches…" he complained with a groan.
"I will be quick." she promised.
She wasn't quick.
It took longer than she thought she would to remove the make-up on her face and it took her longer to decide what she wanted to do once her face was clean. It was trial and errors and she started from scratch a few times but, in the end, she was happy with the result.
Haymitch had long retreated to the living-room to eat his sandwich and read his book by the time she emerged from the bedroom. She had switched the fluffy robe for one of his shirts and a pair of purple and blue leggings she had found in one of the trash bags – and had completed the outfit with black and silver stilettos. She had also braided back part of her hair so her face was free from wayward strands…
She stood in front of him, waiting until he had put down what was left of his sandwich and his book, to speak. "I think… I think this fits the new me best. What do you think?"
She had gone for light make-up, something that could have passed for natural but hid the imperfections. The lines at the corners of her eyes, the dark circles under them… She had put some colors on her cheek but not too much… Nude glittery eyeshadow made her eyes look wider, some mascara made her eyelashes longer… The only real pop of color was the cherry red lipstick on her lips.
Haymitch smirked. "I think that you're gorgeous."
It wasn't quite the answer she was after. She loved that he found her beautiful but she wasn't after compliments.
She wanted an acknowledgement that… That she was her own person. Effie Trinket, perhaps, but… a different version of the ghost she had just conjured.
Her disappointment must have been obvious because he frowned a little.
"Effie…" he said slowly. "Ain't sure what you want me to say…"
"I will never be her again…" she whispered. It seemed ridiculous to be jealous of her past self and yet…
"You don't need to be her." he scoffed. "And she is you. Part of you. This is…" He shook his head. "You're still you. Maybe you don't see it but I do."
"What if you are seeing what you want to see?" she challenged.
He pulled her on his lap, arms tight around her waist. She didn't try to resist. She wanted to be close to him.
"We've had this discussion how many times?" he grumbled, sounding tired. "Look… You're happy with me?"
"Yes." She didn't even have to hesitate to answer that. She was never as happy as when she was with him.
"Well, I'm happy with you." he mumbled, flushing a little red. "So where's the problem?"
"I am scared you are in love with a ghost and I am just a stand-in for her." she whispered with a pout.
He chuckled.
It wasn't the right time for that and her pout turned into a vicious sulk. "It is not funny."
"It'd be if you could see what I see." he argued, shaking his head. He cupped her cheek before she could tell him he was infuriating, his grey eyes meeting hers with genuine yearning. "You're you. And whatever version of you, I'll take."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "By default."
"No, not by fucking default." he snapped, rolling his eyes. "I… I'm… Right now, this you… I… It's just as strong as it was before. Maybe more 'cause… Cause I fucking lost you twice already and… Trust me, princess, it's all about you. Not who you used to be ten years or ten days ago… Just you. All the yous." He stopped talking and made an annoyed face. "I'm making a fucking mess of this."
He was.
But she also understood the point he was trying to make.
"And it does not matter if I never remember?" she insisted.
His thumb retraced the line of her cheekbone. She had to stop herself from chiding him about ruining her make-up. It would have spoiled the moment.
"Sweetheart… I'm worried about the state of your brain…" he teased, his lips twitching into a smirk. "You're clearly forgetting more stuff… I've told you…"
"Tell me again." she cut him off.
He abandoned his attempts at joking to rest his forehead against hers.
"It doesn't matter." he offered seriously. "You're all that matter to me."
She took a deep breath and let the dread recede. "Alright. I might need you to tell me again in the future."
"Can tell you as much as you need to hear it." he promised, stealing a short kiss. "And I do like the new style. What do you call it? Comfortable chic?"
She snorted at his teasing and slid off his lap to grab the untouched sandwich he had brought back for her. "I call it I-have-no-clue-what-I-am-doing-but-I-will-do-it-in-style."
"My favorite look." Haymitch deadpanned.
This time, she laughed out loud, letting go of her worries completely.