Prompt : if you dont think it would be too simlar the the other oneshot, could you please fuck me up with a fic about effie having to be hospitalised because she wasnt eating like you mentioned in 'unlike most couples'

Good Intentions

Effie woke up to an insistent beeping. She reached in the vague direction of her nightstand, grumbling under her breath about the unpleasant sound of Haymitch's alarm clock. Her hand knocked against something metallic.

She opened her eyes with a grunt of pain… and immediately panicked when she realized she wasn't at home. Her fingers had bumped against the metal grates that lined her hospital bed and it had somehow jolted the needle planted on the back of her hand. It was hooked to a drip. Hospital. She was in a…

"Calm down." Her eyes darted to the corner of the room. Haymitch was there, sitting on a chair, rubbing a hand against his eyes. Everything else in the room was grey. From the floor to the ceilings. Even the walls. No windows. No framed pictures. It was cold and she shivered in her thin hospital gown. It looked like a cell. It looked like her cell. And… "It's okay, sweetheart." he insisted. "Well, no, it's fucking not… But… Yeah, I'm working on that."

"What happened?" she asked, her voice faltering. "We were… I was in Twelve. Wasn't I? I was in Twelve. I wasn't… Did I dream it? Haymitch, when…"

She was confused, thoroughly confused. When were they? Had she made it all up? Her mind had been drifting so much when she had been locked up in her cell, alone with only herself for company… She had had hallucinations before. She had had thoughts, stories in her head, that she could have sworn were real.

"The war's been over for two years." he said quickly, hauling himself off the chair to walk closer to the bed. There wasn't much of a distance to cross. She let him take her hand in his and she clung to it. "We're in Thirteen."

"Thirteen?" she repeated, even more confused now. She had never been to Thirteen. She had heard a lot about it but she had never put a foot in that District. "Why? Haymitch, what happened? When can I go home? I want to go home."

Tears prickled her eyes but she fought to keep them at bay. She didn't cry. Not if she could help it.

"I know." he sighed, brushing her hair back with his free hand. His face turned annoyed. "What happened? The boy fucking happened. You happened 'cause you can't be reasonable, yeah? You can't fucking feed yourself properly. And I happened, I guess, 'cause I was too busy drinking to notice…" He shook his head and sneered self-depreciably. "Maybe they've all got a point… Maybe you would be better off…"

"You are making no sense." she cut him off. "How did I end up here?"

"Peeta found you unconscious and you wouldn't wake up." he explained with obvious irritation that badly hid the fear he must have felt. "I was drunk so… He called an ambulance, the doctor at the clinic went on his usual rant about how you weren't gaining enough weight… Peeta agreed to have you transferred to Thirteen for the time being…"

"He didn't have the authority." she snapped. And she couldn't wait to have a chat with the boy. She knew he meant well, he always worried about how little she ate but she was trying, she was, it simply wasn't easy.

"Yeah but I wasn't there to run interference…" he shrugged "They went behind my back. Katniss tried to stop them, for the record, but given that she's under my guardianship, she doesn't have much weight to carry around. They don't consider her a legally responsible adult apparently. If it's any consolation, she's giving him hell over this."

"It is not." she retorted, sitting up. She felt a bit dizzy but otherwise fine. She took the sensors off her fingers and inspected the drip, considering the best way to get rid of it. "Let's go home."

"That's the thing. We can't." he spat. "The doctors in Thirteen, they say you might not be fully responsible for your actions."

It took a moment for it to sink. "They think I am crazy?"

"Not crazy." he amended. "Just not completely here. They want to make you a ward of the state, strip you of your legal powers… They want to send you to an eating disorder clinic."

It was like a bucket of icy water being poured over her head.

"I do not have an eating disorder." she growled. "I just… I try."

It wasn't that she didn't want to eat. They had starved her in prison and being able to stomach solid food had taken her weeks after her rescue. She had never been a huge eater and now… Now she had been so sick that the thought of eating too much made her nauseous and it was difficult for her to make the difference between nausea from hunger and nausea from being too full. She was sated very fast. She tried to keep a healthy diet, she tried, but it was difficult.

"I know." he pacified her, perching himself on the bed.

And he probably did. This was an everyday battle that he fought with her. He cooked for her. He made sure she ate at regular times. He coaxed when he felt she wasn't eating enough and held her when she felt sick afterwards…

It wasn't an ideal system. But it worked.

"I want to go home." she pleaded. "Please."

She wouldn't bear being locked up somewhere again. She wouldn't… She was afraid of what she would do to herself. She was afraid of…

"I'm working on it." he promised. "Plutarch's on his way. He should be able to sort this mess."

"I can't go anywhere." she insisted, frantic. "I can't… I need you. Don't they understand?"

He looked down at their entwined hands, his jaw clenched. "I'm sorry, Effie. If I hadn't been so drunk…"

"I wasn't hungry, that's all." she begged. "I will be more careful."

She tended to lose track when he went on binges, that was true. She worried about him and forgot to worry about herself. But… That was who they were, who they had always been.

"Peeta told them it wasn't the first time." he sighed. "I tried to… They won't let me get a word in. Living together's worth nothing for those assholes."

"We should get married." she blurted out, her mind far from romantic grounds. And it was probably the only reason why he didn't freak out. "They wouldn't be able to do anything to you without consulting me and they wouldn't be able to send me away without your permission."

"Effie…" he hesitated.

"I trust you with my life." she offered.

"Maybe not the most clever plan you ever had. Look where it got you." he snorted bitterly. He didn't say anything and she glared. He rolled his eyes. "You really need me to tell you you're the only I've trusted to have my back in years?"

"No, I do not need to." she pouted. "However, it would be nice to hear it sometimes."

He smirked but it was short-lived.

"Being married would have solved this mess quicker." he admitted. "Maybe we should."

"I won't stay in their clinic anyway." she huffed. "I will escape. And if they do not let me escape, then I will find another sort of escape…"

She let her voice trail off and there was nothing gentle to the way he squeezed her hand.

"Don't threaten to do that." he warned. "You don't fucking threaten to kill yourself."

"I cannot and will not be locked away." she hissed. "I would rather die than live through that again."

Rationally, she knew it wouldn't be the same thing. But being trapped in a hospital room after her rescue had been terrible enough.

She wanted to go home where she felt safe.

"Nobody's gonna lock you away." he rebuked her. "You missed the part I told you I was working on it?"

He nudged her a bit to the side and lied down with her like he used to do after her rescue. Hospital beds were narrow but they had learned how to make it work a long time ago. She felt better once she was safely in his arms.

"Don't let them take me away." she begged.

"I won't." he promised and then hesitated. "Worse comes to worse… I'll come with you."

"They won't let you." she countered.

"Plutarch's gonna handle it." he said again, sounding confident enough that she relaxed a little. "He owes me."

Having the Secretary of Communication in their pocket was useful, it seemed. His appearance alone, coupled with a few threats to call some of his fellow Secretaries, was enough to secure her release. She and Haymitch were bundled on a hovercraft with a lot of warnings and pleads for her to reconsider.

She didn't doubt they meant well.

She didn't doubt Peeta had meant well – although he wouldn't escape a dressing down.

But she only breathed more easily once the hovercraft entered Twelve's borders.