Prompt: Hi! I wanted to start by saying I adore your writing and hayffie characterizations. I spent a solid 2 weeks devouring your stories and it was glorious. Do you still take prompts? I'd love an AU where Chaff survives, and him and Effie become friends

What better place to become friends than a cell? XD

Newfound Friends

Chaff woke to a nice view of the grey ceiling.

Grey everything, really.

He took a minute to… take stock. His ribs were still hurting, no surprise there. He didn't like the wheezing sound one bit. He knew quite a few were cracked. No punctured lung though. No… He wasn't that lucky and the Peacekeepers weren't that careless. His left eye wouldn't open and he figured it had finally swollen shut. His bottom lip was split and he could still taste blood on his tongue. His left arm was in agony and that didn't bear thinking over. They had meticulously flayed it from stump to shoulder.

The various other bruises and cuts weren't life-threatening. At least he didn't think so.

He wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not to have managed to get the upper hand on Brutus. If Two's victor had killed him… On the bright side he wouldn't be there getting tortured to an inch of his sanity to protect information he really wished he didn't have. One the less positive side… He wouldn't be there at all.

Being alive trumped being dead. Even if that meant enduring pain.

He had known what he was getting into when he had signed in the rebellion…

Still… It didn't make it any easier. How long had it been now? Weeks? Months? It had started blurring together after a few days. There were no windows and there was no rhythm to the coming and going of the guards, no way to keep track of time…

He heard the door to his cell being opened and he closed his good eye, figuring he might as well pretend to be unconscious. It would gain him a few minutes of respite probably.

"You like District dogs so much… Why don't you try this one?" a Peacekeeper laughed.

There was a pained whine and a thud as something – or more likely someone was thrown into his small cell.

"Hope you have fun with Abernathy's bitch, Mitchell." another of his captors said. "I heard she's a screamer."

A shiver ran down his spine but he still waited until he heard the door close and the guards' laugher fade in the distance before taking as deep a breath as his ribs allowed and rolling on his side to sit up. It was dark in the cell, the only source of light the four lines that defined the shape of the door, but not pitch dark.

He spotted the small shaking shape less than a foot from him and he dragged himself over, wincing all the way. His left arm hung limp and useless at his side. He wondered if by the time this would be over he would be missing more than just a hand.

"Trinket?" he called. He was pretty sure it was a safe bet. Abernathy's bitch… To his knowledge – and his knowledge was sound – Haymitch didn't have a string of lovers lately.

"I don't know anything." the woman rasped out in an obvious mechanical response.

"Good for you." he snorted. It was a few minutes before he managed to crawl the distance between them. Maybe his body was in worse shape than he was willing to admit. She flinched when he put his good hand on her shoulder. "Come on, love. It's just me. Just your old friend Chaff."

The shaking woman peered at him in the semi-darkness. He couldn't really tell for sure but she looked worse for the wear. How long had they had her? Since the arena had exploded? Longer? The thin prison uniform was sticky under his palm. Blood. She didn't try to roll on her back, apparently happy to remain curled half on her stomach. He probed a little with his fingers, it wasn't long before he found the first gash on her back and she gasped so badly that he took his hand away.

"Sorry." he muttered, making a face. Whip, he guessed. Not good. "How bad is it, love?"

"Chaff?" she asked. She didn't sound completely focused.

"Yeah." he confirmed.

"You are alive…" she breathed out.

"Hanging in there." he snorted, grabbing her elbow to steady her when she pushed herself to a sitting position. She hissed and breathed heavily when the change in positions reopened the wounds on her back but she didn't immediately faint or complain like he expected her to. It told him she had been there a while. "You saw anyone else?"

He was desperate for information.

He knew at least one other victor had been grabbed from the arena but he didn't know who. He just hoped they had gotten Everdeen out. The rebellion needed its Mockingjay. That had been the whole point. But he knew someone else had been captured. He had seen it when…

They only fed him lies.

"They took Peeta." she said slowly, reaching for her face only to drop her hand at the last minute. Chaff frowned and grabbed her chin, ignoring her flinching, forcing her to tilt her head so he could see better in the meager rays of light coming from the door. "I am alright."

It was a lie if he had ever heard one.

Her face was black and blue.

"You don't know anything." he scoffed. "What do they keep you for?"

Her lips stretched into a sardonic smile that chilled him to the bones. "Insurance."

"Haymitch." he said immediately, wrinkling his nose. He had warned them enough time it would end badly. Hell, he had told Haymitch time and time again that…

"No." she denied, gently coiling her fingers around his wrist and nudging his hand away from her face. "They force me to make Johanna and Peeta presentable for propos now and then. They both behave better when my life is on the line."

So the boy was there…

His heart missed a beat and then raced as if to compensate. If the boy was there… He shouldn't have been as pleased by that news as he was probably, but fuck that meant they might not have to survive until the end of the war after all. Because if the boy was there…

"Jo?" he asked. "She's here?"

"Yes." Trinket confirmed. "Annie too. But they haven't touched her."

"Cresta?" he frowned. "She's got no part in this. She's…"

"But Finnick must know they have her." she cut him off. "At least that's what Johanna and I concluded." She waited for a second and then swallowed hard. "We had no idea you were there. I… I never saw you before…"

"They kept that girl with me at first…" he mumbled. "Your stylist?"

"Portia?" she asked, sounding far too much hopeful.

"Yeah, maybe." he shrugged – and immediately regretted it. "Broken jaw. Couldn't chat. They moved her to another cell. I'm guessing you're my new roommate."

"They keep me with Johanna usually." she whispered. "They hurt me to make her behave."

"You mentioned." he snorted and still found it unbelievable that Jo would care at all. There was no love lost between those two. Just like there was no love lost between them probably. He studied her as best as he could in the semi-darkness, noting the way she hugged herself and the shivers. "You're cold."

"I am always cold." she chuckled without any amusement. "Johanna says it means my body will give in soon."

"Let's not go down that road." he grumbled, shifting until he felt the wall at his back. He found a sitting position that wasn't too hard on his ribs and opened his good arm. "Come here, love. Not good for much right now but I can still keep a girl warm."

She hesitated for a long time before moving closer. She was wary when she leaned into his side, mindful of her injuries as well as his.

It was awkward on several different levels.

The least of which being her promise that she would cut his remaining hand if he ever tried to grope her again. He was almost tempted to try just for the laugh of it.

"They are doing something to Peeta." she whispered after a long moment.

He tried to open his swollen eye and gave up. "I'm guessing they've done stuff to all of us, love."

"No." she countered. "They are… I do not know what they are doing to him. I do not know! But it is bad. He is…" Her voice broke and she shook her head. "I keep telling Johanna Haymitch will come."

"He will." he said quietly. He knew his friend. If there was a chance to free the boy, Haymitch would take it. And he would grab Jo and the rest of them on the way.

"I am not so sure." she confessed. "It's been… It's been so long…"

"When he can, he'll come." Chaff insisted. "Come on, Trinket, you know our boy. He doesn't give up on family."

"He won't give up on the children…" she mumbled, sounding a bit out of it. Her breathing was too raspy for his tastes. He wondered if she had broken ribs of her own. It occurred to him they might have tossed her in there so he could watch her die.

"Won't give up on his girl either." he chided her, giving her a small jolt that made her whimper in pain. "You hang in there."

"Not his girl." she protested weakly.

"Yeah, right…" he scowled. "You know, you're getting skinned for it, might as well own up to it."

"I'm his bitch…" she countered with bitterness. "There is no denying that anymore. It doesn't make me his girl. He doesn't care about me. They're right."

"Trinket, if you really think that, then you don't know him at all." he accused. And she must have known better. Haymitch always insisted she was much clever than they all gave her credit for… "Why do you think they're keeping you?"

"To kill me at the right moment." she retorted sleepily. "To weaken him. It does not mean…"

"Oh, yeah, it does." he scoffed. "He's been crazy about you for years. Stop it already."

"You're wrong." she argued but her voice was getting fainter and her weight against his side was heavier.

"No, I ain't." he insisted. "You're just falling asleep or you're dying on me, love? Warn a guy."

"I'm tired…" she whispered. "I'm so tired… I can't… I can't let Johanna see… I have to… The children come first. We promised. The children come first. I have to protect them. I have to…"

He was surprised not to be surprised by the strength in her voice despite how soft her words were. Trinket had always been a feisty little thing. He had just not know she could be brave too. Maybe Haymitch was right after all, maybe there were things about her he just didn't understand.

"Ain't no child, love. You can let go with me." he offered. "But no dying, yeah? When I get out of here I don't want to have to explain to my best friend that his girl died on me."

She half-chuckled, half-sobbed, her face briefly burying in his shoulder.

"I miss him…" she confessed after a couple of minutes, pain and longing lacing her voice. "I wanted to see him again. I really wanted to…" She licked her lips. "My body is numb. I can't feel the pain anymore. Johanna said…"

"You're not dying on me, Trinket." he said more firmly, a bit panicked. "Come on. Talk to me. Tell me something about you."

"Like what?" she murmured.

"I don't know." he sighed. "Anything that keeps you talking. What do you want to do when this is over? Say the rebels win…"

"Can they?" she asked.

"I'm an optimist." he dismissed. "So. You're free to do anything you want with your life… What do you do?"

She was silent for a moment before he heard her lick her lips again. Or try to. If she was half as thirsty as he was…

"I really don't know.." she answered eventually.

"You've got no imagination, love." he complained. "I'm gonna take a holiday and do nothing for a whole year. Hell, I'll go visit Finnick in Four. He's always going on and on about that place. Can't be a bad place to be. Maybe we should all go. Have a little victors holiday."

"I am not a victor." she pointed out.

"Like Haymitch would leave you behind." he scowled.

"He did once." She sounded bitter.

"He'd never have left you to be tortured." he offered quietly. "There's an explanation somewhere."

"I hope it's a good one." she remarked. "Too bad I will never hear it." Her breathing was becoming more and more raspy and Chaff's worry was increasing by the second. It wasn't just that he didn't want Trinket to die – it would crush Haymitch and he didn't particularly want to share his cell with a corpse – but it felt like forever since he had talked to someone like that. It felt like having a friend. "I love him, you know…" she murmured. "Tell him if I… I love him…"

He tried to keep her awake. He asked questions she gave not quite coherent answers to.

He waited and waited for the guards to come by, hoping he could… He wasn't sure what he could do to convince them to help her. Maybe that was another form of torture. Maybe next they would toss Jo in there and let him watch while she die. Maybe it was all a ploy to make him talk or…

Trinket had long fallen asleep when the acrid smell burned his nose. He opened his good eye to see the room filled with fog.

He held his breath.

As long as he could he held his breath.

One whiff was enough for him to get sleepy…

He was already going under when the door was brutally opened.

"That's Chaff Mitchell." a man said. "He's on the list. Grab him and let's get out of here. We still need to find Mellark."

"Who's the woman?" someone else answered. "She's not a victor, right? Should we…"

"We can't save everyone, Hawthorne." the first voice retorted, not sounding very pleased about that. "It's going to be hard enough to get out with the ones we came for."

Chaff felt hands prying Trinket away from his side and he fought against the oblivion that wanted to swallow him. His good hand grabbed an arm. He wasn't quite sure whose.

"Take her." he muttered.

The man who was looming over him shook his head, looking sorry. "My orders are to grab the victors and go. I'm sorry but…"

"She's…" he tried but it was too complicated to explain. His brain wasn't up to elaborate explanations. "Haymitch. She's Haymitch's. Take her."

"You don't understand." the guy insisted. "We can't take all the prisoners in this place. We came for you."

"Take her." he spat one last time, shoving the man away from him. "Tell Haymitch… Tell Haymitch…" His good eyelid fluttered close. "He… He owes me one… yeah? Get her to…"

He had no idea what happened next or if he had dreamt the whole thing.

The next time he woke up Trinket was gone and he was alone.

The Peacekeepers kept on coming and asking questions as if nothing had happened. He figured he must have imagined it all. He figured he was going a little crazy.

He was definitely bordering on insane when the door opened on Haymitch months later.

He was feverish, mad with pain and half-dead. He was long used to hallucinations by then and it took him a while for him to believe his friend when he told him it was over, that he was free.

Free.

What a joke.

When he come in a hospital room a while later, feeling blissfully high on drugs, Haymitch was sitting right there, next to the bed. It felt like a strange reversal of all those years ago, when he had waited for a sixteen year old kid with far too much spunk to wake up.

"Tell me you've sneaked in some booze." he mumbled and then opened and closed his mouth a few times. It was parched.

Haymitch startled, his grey eyes darting to his face. "Chaff."

"How long?" he asked. Because the question had haunted him for far too long.

"A few months." Haymitch said. It was nowhere near precise enough but before he could complain about it, his friend had grabbed his hand. Weird. They weren't touchy-feely. "Thank you."

It took him a while to understand what Haymitch meant. That short period of time with Trinket all that time ago felt like a dream to him. He hadn't been sure it had been real. The whole rescue thing… "They took her to you, then?"

"Yeah." Twelve's victor nodded, relief and gratitude mixing on his face. "Just in time too. She wouldn't… She barely made it to Thirteen. If you hadn't…"

"Yeah." he cut him off with a shrug, not really eager to be reminded that he could have been out of that prison much earlier. "She's your girl, ain't she? Couldn't let her die."

"Thank you." Haymitch said again, far too gravely.

There was more going on, he figured.

He only learned later about Everdeen's sister, the dead kids at the Circle and who was really responsible for it. He learned about Finnick too. And about Annie's pregnancy. And about far too many things at once.

He was frustrated with his own physical recovery and couldn't quite focus on Haymitch's recurring rants.

Truth be told, he was almost relieved when the others finally showed up, having finally been transferred from Thirteen. It was good to see Jo and Annie.

He wasn't entirely sure about being hugged within an inch of his life by a small blond woman he could barely situate until he met her blue eyes.

"Thank you." Trinket whispered in his ear before planting a kiss on her cheek.

He was a bit embarrassed but he covered it up with one of his familiar leer. "Now, love… You know Haymitch gets jealous easy…"

There was laughter and nobody noticed he was mostly pretending. Trinket was the only one who looked at him as if she had a clue. She was quieter than he remembered, more subdued. She reached out for Haymitch sometimes, as if to reassure herself he was really there, and Twelve's victor was more open about his feelings than he had ever seen him. It was nothing exceptional but the looks and the small discrete gestures of comfort spoke volumes. Chaff made some jokes, mostly because he felt it was expected of him.

He stopped joking when Trinket self-appointed herself his physical therapy coach.

Haymitch didn't have time, Johanna was too full of anger and short of patience, Annie needed to take it easy and the doctors all agreed he needed support. He wasn't sure how to explain he didn't know how to find support in an escort with whom he had never really seen eye to eye before.

It was funny how sharing a cell, however briefly, could change things though.

She seemed to have a gift to know when he was faking cheerfulness or when it was necessary to leave him alone, no matter how much he protested they weren't bothering him.

It pained him to admit Haymitch had been right.

She was a good person.