Prompt (if you have the time): while in 13, the group watches the executions of Portia etc. And when more people come into view, Effie sees her father and he's executed (he was involved in the Games). You can go from there, love you! 😘

Making It Personal

The emergency summon in Command came in the middle of the frenzy surrounding the newly rescued victors and what had quickly been dubbed: The Peeta Problem. Effie almost didn't follow Haymitch, too busy hissing at a doctor to do something to help her victor. He took one look at the annoyed expression on the doctor's face and dragged her away with him before she got herself arrested for interfering.

He regretted it when he realized why Plutarch had paged them.

The Capitol seal was on every screen, sign of an impending live feed which usually meant either another propo or executions. Haymitch was betting on the latter.

"Retaliation?" he asked Beetee.

Three's victor shrugged but the look he gave him said it all. There weren't many people in the room, only Beetee, Plutarch, Coin and Boggs.

"I've lost contact with some of my agents." Plutarch sighed. "They probably got caught."

Next to Haymitch, Effie remained silent but hugged herself like always when executions were broadcasted. She hated it. He hated it too but, as horrible as it sounded, he had grown used to them. She hadn't. She always had nightmares the following night.

"Maybe you should go check on Katniss and Jo." he suggested, offering her a way out.

"I am fine." she replied, stubborn to the last.

She didn't look fine when the Capitol seal morphed into a small courtyard. It was always the same. People were brought in front of the camera, one by one, a bag was forced on their head and then whatever Peacekeeper was standing behind them would shoot. The body would be dragged away and someone else would take their place.

It was ugly and violent and inhuman.

The first person was identified as one of Plutarch's agents. The Head Gamemaker said nothing but pursed his lips tight, his hand clenched into a fist. The second was the girl from Peeta's prep team.

"Sillia!" Effie gasped.

"Oh, shit." Haymitch spat. "Effie, don't…"

Too late.

The gunshot rang. Sillia fell.

How many times had he mocked the woman because of her name? Silly Sillia, he used to call her behind her back to Effie's exasperation. She had been working with Twelve for at least four years now.

So had Fendus and Perigrin. The two men were crying when the bags were forced over their heads. They begged for their lives.

"They're making it personal." Beetee commented. "It's punishment for Peeta."

"For Peeta or for us?" Haymitch growled but when he caught sight of who they brought next he cringed. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." He wasn't surprised. He had known it would be coming when they had killed Sillia. He grabbed his escort's arm, trying to force her away from the screens, but Effie shrugged him off in silence, watching Portia walk to her death with as much dignity as someone in her position could muster. "You don't want to remember her like this."

"I owe her this." Effie whispered, tears escaping her eyes despite her best efforts to remain collected. Her lips were wobbling. "She is my friend."

She closed her eyes when Portia fell and he ran his hand over his face, tasting bile. He wanted to throw up. Or kill someone. Maybe both.

There was another woman Plutarch identified as one of his agents.

And then they brought a man.

"No." Effie immediately breathed out, taking a step closer to the screen, her voice laced with horror. "No, no, no…"

"Who is he?" Coin asked.

"I have no idea." Plutarch frowned. "He…"

"Father." Effie whispered as a bag was forced on his head.

Haymitch didn't give himself time to think. He acted. He grabbed her and forced her away from the screen, forced her face in his shoulder just in time. She went limp against him after the gunshot, his shirt bundled in her fists. She wasn't crying but her whole body was shaking. He released the pressure on the back of her skull, letting his fingers coil around her nape instead but she kept her face where it was.

Panem's anthem rang out and the seal of the Capitol appeared again.

"I guess that answers the question." Beetee offered. "It was personal."

"Get her back to her compartment." Coin ordered on her way out of the room, shadowed by Boggs. "She can take the rest of the day off."

"Too kind." he snarled after the President. He searched Plutarch's eyes. "The rest of her family…"

"I'll see what I can find out." the Gamemaker promised.

He was afraid she would make it difficult but when he steered her in the direction of her room, she went willingly. Her eyes were glassy. He talked but she never answered. He wasn't sure she was there with him. She was like a broken doll. He sat her on the bed. When he sat next to her, after a minute of hesitation, she crawled on his lap, laid her head on his shoulder and stared at the wall.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed there.

She didn't cry, she didn't talk, she didn't shout…

He didn't know what to do with her aside for holding her and pressing the occasional awkward kiss against her neck.

When his communicuff beeped, it was almost a relief.

"It's Peeta's doctor." he told her with a wince. "I need to…"

"I will come with you." she cut him off.

"Effie…" he tried.

"The children come first. Always." she interrupted again.

She didn't even wait for him. She walked ahead, her head high and her steps confident, a mask of dumb indifference on her face.

It killed him how she always felt the need to hide her pain.