Prompt: Peeta and Effie play the Real-or-Not-Real game so they can come to terms with their time in the Capitol. Katniss and Haymitch watch, horrified.

Oook so while nothing graphic is discussed, the things they're talking about aren't pretty. It's prison and torture. Consider yourself warned.

Real Or Not Real

The problem when your whole family suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, Haymitch mused, was that you never knew what would trigger something bad.

They were having dinner in his newly yellow painted kitchen, like they did most nights, Effie was chatting about her redecorating project, Katniss was teasing, Haymitch was grumbling and Peeta was laughing. All in all, everything was good, the mood was light, they were happy to be together… It was a good day.

Effie was in the middle of telling them what she was planning to do to his living-room and Haymitch wasn't hiding his annoyance at the notion that she could simply change the curtains, the rug and the lamps as she pleased – officially she was still visiting, she had yet to say out loud that four months was too long for a friendly stay and that she had moved in, something Haymitch was still coming to terms with, it wasn't so easy to transition from living alone your whole life to sharing a house with a very bossy woman.

"I will strangle you with the curtains if you pick anything pink." he warned, tacitly giving in. At least, while she was busy redecorating, she was less prone to having panic attacks. As long as she was busy she was alright.

"Manners, Haymitch." she chided him. "You don't threaten a lady."

Katniss rolled her eyes but laughed, just as diverted by the banter as always.

"You're no lady." he accused, falling back on that familiar – and frankly overused – argument.

"I am…" she started, her eyes sparkling in mischief, only to stop abruptly. "Are you alright, dear?"

She didn't make the mistake of reaching for the boy and they all went very still, particularly Katniss who was sitting next to Peeta. He was slouched over the table, his hands were clenched into fists on the white tablecloth, his eyes were closed, he was breathing too quickly and they all knew any move perceived as a threat would trigger an even worse reaction. Haymitch's eyes fell on the knife abandoned in the boy's plate – too close – and exchanged a glance with Katniss. The girl had realized the potential danger too and was watching warily, ready to jump out of the way.

"Peeta?" the girl called out softly.

"He strangled you, real or not real?" the boy asked, his shoulders rising and falling in time with his out of synch breathing.

"I… Who?" the girl frowned. "Who strangled me?"

Haymitch's eyes darted from Katniss to the boy, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.

"Real." Effie cut in flatly.

He turned his head so fast something snapped in his neck but Effie ignored him, just like she ignored Katniss, focused only on the boy.

Peeta nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "The knife…"

"Real." Effie interrupted him.

Realization came with a sickening feeling in the pit of Haymitch's stomach. He slowly reached out to cover her hand but she startled and recoiled, prompting a low growl from the boy. "Don't touch her."

Haymitch lifted his hands in front of him, showing he meant no harm. Peeta's blue eyes remained fixed on him, watching.

"Peeta." Katniss whispered. "Peeta, come back."

"Trying." the boy said, gritting his teeth. "Everything is jumbled."

"Ask then." Effie offered in a soft, almost detached voice. She was hugging herself, her gaze lost in the distance.

It took several minutes before Peeta talked again, he clearly was trying to make the difference between false and true memories. "They hurt you so I would tell them everything I knew."

"Real." she granted.

"I didn't know anything." the boy insisted.

Effie licked her lips and hugged herself tighter. "Real."

She was distressed and Haymitch desperately wanted to cut in, to put a stop to that morbid game and to take her upstairs where she would be safe from upsetting memories. He did nothing because the boy needed it and the kids always came first.

"They said they would… They said they would…" Peeta stammered, now staring at her with horror "Did they…"

"No." she answered, shaking her head. "Threats, that's all."

"You're lying." the boy accused. "You're lying, real or not real?"

Haymitch pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes to control his own temper. His fingers were shaking. He wanted to hit something. To hurt the people who had done that to them.

"No." she repeated. "It didn't happen. Not real. They just… They just joked about it."

"They grabbed you." Peeta growled. "They put their hands…"

Haymitch stood up so abruptly the chair clattered to the floor. Effie flinched, Katniss looked at him with entirely too much sympathy and Peeta eyed him like the threat he was at that moment. He kept his tongue but he walked to the sink, slammed one of the cupboard open, grabbed a bottle and downed a good portion of it, staring at the backyard through the window and trying to regulate his breathing.

"Nothing like that happened, Peeta." she insisted after a while. "I swear. There was some groping at most. We were too filthy to be appealing."

Given the light tone she forced in her voice, it was probably meant as a joke but no one laughed.

"Effie…" Katniss breathed out with entirely too much pain. In the reflection on the glass of the window, he saw the girl standing up and wrapping her arms around Effie's shoulders. Their escort suffered the fussing for a few seconds and then patted Katniss' forearm.

"I am perfectly fine." she lied in her usual – fake – cheerful voice.

"That makes one of us." Haymitch scoffed, bringing the bottle to his lips again.

He went ignored.

"Do you feel better, dear?" she asked, escaping the girl's arms to start piling up the dirty dishes.

He didn't see Peeta nod but he figured the boy must have made some sign that he indeed felt better because Katniss declared she was taking him home. Haymitch mumbled a goodnight in answer to their goodbyes but his heart wasn't in it. She kept gathering the dirty dishes and eventually nudged him aside so she could place everything in the sink.

"I am fine, Haymitch." she insisted quietly. "It is over, done with. Let's not dwell on what happened."

"Did it?" he asked, unable to keep the furor and hatred out of his voice. "Did it happen?" He couldn't meet her eyes. He couldn't even look at her. She had been hurt, he knew that, but the idea that someone might have hurt her in that way… It was the ultimate form of violence in his mind, a weapon of destruction. "You can lie to the kids but not to me, sweetheart. You can't lie to me."

Her hand closed around the neck of the bottle and she pried it away from his fingers. He let her, almost regretfully. She placed it back in the cupboard and then she stepped in his space, wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugged her right back, coiling a hand around her nape, running his thumb on the side of her neck.

"They threatened to do that because it made Peeta react." she explained in a whisper. "There was some groping and hands in places I would rather not have them but that's all, nothing years of chasing sponsors hadn't prepared me for. We were filthy, starved and hurt, Haymitch, we didn't make for an appealing sight and Johanna and I were grateful for it. Nothing like what you are imagining happened to me."

"Promise me you're not lying." he pressed, resting his head against hers. "I know you, Effie. You think you need to protect me but…"

"I am not lying." she sighed. "I swear to you on the children's heads I am not lying." She looked up and framed his face in her hands. "I swear."

He searched her eyes but found no lie in there. He let out the breath he had been holding and leaned in until their forehead were pressed together.

"I hate that you got hurt." he confessed.

"I know." she hummed. "I am alright now. I am safe. I am with you. You will keep me safe."

He was familiar with those statements. He was used to saying them after a particularly bad nightmare or after one of her panic attacks. She shouldn't have been the one offering reassurances when she was the one who had been talking about being tortured five minutes earlier.

"I will." he vowed, pressing his lips against her forehead in a long lingering kiss.

He would keep her safe if it was the last thing he ever did.

That was an oath he would keep.