prompt: could you please write something where after the war ends, aymitch takes Effie on a real but sort of sad undertoned date before he goes back to 12 indefinitely c
One Last Date
Effie waited at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the courthouse, fiddling with the bangles around her wrist to distract herself. After months of a trial that was, to her, slightly less than a mockery, she should have felt far much happier with a ruling that, for all intents and purposes, was in their favor.
Katniss would be freed from her prison room in the penthouse, hopefully clean from her addiction to morphling, hopefully less inclined to commit suicide…
Katniss would be freed and released in someone's guardianship – as was the plan – and would be exiled in Twelve – as had definitely not been the plan.
The plan had been for her mother to find a nice little quiet place and let her heal in peace.
The plan had definitely not been for Aster Everdeen to disappear in the middle of the night with only a letter dropped under Effie's – Effie's and Haymitch's – doorstep. The fact that the woman had run to Four only added insult to injury as far as Effie was concerned.
Four had been their ultimate plan all along. Once Peeta would have been released… Haymitch's idea had been for all of them to move there, to start over, to find houses close to each other but away from the main part of the District and just…
They would have been a family.
And now…
Effie had mostly agreed to move to Four with them to humor him at first, because she didn't know what else to do. She didn't want to lose him, she didn't want to lose the children or even Jo and Annie… Four had seemed a perfect compromise between her lifestyle and his. Big enough a District to content her but not the city Haymitch hated. She hadn't realized how much she had come to rely on that idea, how much she had started picturing it until it had all come crashing down with that exile verdict.
There would be no little white house with blue binds and a small garden that gave out on the beach. There would be no light salty wind running in her loose white dress and playing with her hat – because in her fantasies, she was always wearing a loose white dress and a hat and Haymitch was always shirtless and they were always smiling and hugging and happy and… There would be no starting over, no new beginning, no big family…
And all because Aster Everdeen had taken off.
It would have worked if she had been there, Effie just knew it. The judges would have released the girl to her mother without further stipulations because that was the way of the world and the deal Plutarch had struck behind the scene, the deal Paylor herself had agreed to. But Aster had bolted and the judges had concluded that Katniss was too unpredictable for even her mother to want to handle and thus the deal had fallen through and…
Haymitch had to volunteer.
She understood that.
Of course, she did.
If he hadn't, she would have. Even if it had meant being sentenced to exile at the far end of the country.
But…
"Hey."
She looked up into familiar grey eyes, startled. She hadn't seen Haymitch approaching. She hadn't even felt him. A look around was enough to ascertain everyone else of importance had now exited the courthouse. Plutarch sadly waved at her as he walked all the way to his car, the judges went their separate ways…
"I've signed everything." Haymitch explained needlessly – if a little wearily. "We can go."
He offered his arm out of habits and she took it, mindful of the shoulder she had injured in the Capitol's cells and that still gave her troubles from time to time. "Home?"
The word slipped out before she could think it through. She had been very careful not to use that one or any equivalent in the last couple of months. They had moved around a lot after the Capitol's surrender. They had stayed at the Presidential Mansion until Katniss had killed Coin and a hasty vote had been organized. When Paylor's administration had taken over, they had moved on to Plutarch's house and, after only a few weeks, they had relocated to her apartment.
Her apartment had been all but destroyed during the war. It was still standing and that was the most anyone could have said for it. Windows had been blown out, furniture broken, someone had lit a fire in the living-room presumably for warmth, anything of value was gone, almost everything of sentimental import was lost… It had seemed daunting at first to live there but the lack of privacy at Plutarch's house made it imperative for them to have their own place.
They had spent the last few months putting her apartment back together and it had not escaped her notice that they had both compromised on things, that they had made it more compatible to both of their tastes. There had been no talk of Haymitch finding another place to live, not even a mention that he would move out when the place would have locks and would be safer…
They had fallen into domesticity with surprising ease for how volatile their cohabitation at the penthouse had been at times.
But she knew better than anyone how the most obvious and trivial little things could set Haymitch's fears off and trigger a hasty denial of anything involving feelings or commitment.
"Yeah…" he agreed and then made a face. "No. Let's find somewhere to eat first."
It was late enough for an early dinner, she supposed, even if it was far much earlier than they both usually liked to eat at night. She nodded her consent and forced a smile because she suspected that once they would be back at her apartment, he wouldn't be happy until they were in bed and he wouldn't let her out of it, not even to fill their bellies.
They walked to a small café they both liked at a sedate place. Neither of them talked.
Effie wasn't sure what to say. She was still a little bit in shock – and more than a little angry at Aster Everdeen for making their beautiful perfect plans crash around them.
Haymitch was closed off. His features were schooled in a hard mask, his mouth was pinched as if he was sucking on particularly bitter lemons and his grey eyes were stormy like always when he was upset. But it was his hands that have him away. His fingers were twitching.
She didn't give it five more minutes before he reached for the flask hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket.
He held out until they had reached the café and they were sitting at the booth in the corner they both preferred. It allowed them privacy; hiding after all this time had become second nature.
The war hadn't stopped people from recognizing them. They were still famous. They were still the victor and the escort. The last of her kind, in her case. Except now, not everyone wanted their autograph or their pictures. People wanted to let them know exactly what they thought of them. Or, more specifically, of her. Traitor to Capitol, monster to District people. She was a walking paradox.
She didn't watch him sip a few mouthful of whatever he had in that flask. She glanced around, studying their surroundings like she always tended to do nowadays, making sure there would be no scene. She couldn't see anyone who stared at them longer than one would stare at a famous couple, no one with hatred on their face, no one who would come over and spill out all their grievances at their feet. She didn't think neither of them would handle that particularly well today.
Their usual waitress stopped next to their table and Effie smiled back warmly at the blue-haired girl as she placed their order. She didn't ask Haymitch what he wanted, she simply ordered his favorite thing on the menu. She took a salad for herself. She didn't have much of an appetite. She could barely stop herself from wincing when the girl offered congratulations in an excited whisper before departing to go get their drinks.
The café was small and newly restored and it was nothing like the grand restaurants she had been used to before the war but she liked the anonymousness of it. She liked the pastel colors and the simple food and the nice young girls and boys who waitressed there. They had witnessed more than one brainstorming session between her and Haymitch to get Katniss off the justice's hook.
She wasn't surprised the girl would congratulate them on what, for all intents and purposes, was a victory.
The trial had been airing on live TV, of course. The whole world already knew.
"It will be fine." she finally found the strength to say when Haymitch started fidgeting, toying with the paper napkins on the table.
The look he shot her was disbelieving at best, mocking at worst.
She licked her lips and held out her answer because the waitress had come back with their drinks. A glass of white wine for her, red for him.
"It will be." she insisted. "The important thing is that Katniss is now free. Are they arranging transport or do we have to take care of it?"
He searched her face and then looked down at his glass of wine. He slowly grabbed the stem of his glass but didn't bring it to his lips just yet. "All arranged. We're leaving tomorrow morning. There'll be a hovercraft ready on the roof."
Her throat closed and she fought to keep herself composed.
She hadn't thought it would be so soon. She had thought they would have a few days.
He snorted and finally took a sip of his wine. He didn't pause to enjoy it though. He swallowed it like other would water. "Funny, yeah? It's like the Games all over again. We go in the Center, we never walk out again. They're shipping us back to hell." He made a face, briefly meeting her eyes. "I ask if I was allowed to feed the girl first. They said she could even have a bath but they wanted us out of there before mid-morning. Ain't that fucked up?"
There was something pleading in his tone. Or maybe it was disappointment.
He had helped built that new government but he had had no thanks for it and she was pretty sure his name wouldn't appear in any history book. He had been instrumental in changing the country but nobody would ever know or remember. The politicians wanted him out of the picture almost as badly as they wanted Katniss off their hands.
They really should have seen it coming. The moment Aster Everdeen had taken herself out of the equation, they should have seen it coming.
"I tried to bargain." he added almost as an afterthought. "Exchange Twelve for Four. They wouldn't hear of it."
"I suppose not." she sighed, taking a sip of her own wine. The waitress brought their food and Effie thanked her quietly. She waited until she was gone to speak again. "Surely it won't be that bad…"
Haymitch's jaw clenched. "Last I heard bodies are still rotting in the streets. The Village's the only thing still standing and, to get there, we're gonna have to trek through ruins and dead people." He snorted again. "But, hey, on the bright side, I've been told phones are working again."
He shook his head and stabbed at the meat she had ordered for him.
She briefly closed her eyes and forced herself to bring the fork to her mouth. The food was good but it tasted like ashes on her tongue.
He had been having nightmares about Twelve ever since the Quell. He had confessed it in the dead of night, wrapped around her, clammy with sweat. He felt guilty, responsible because he hadn't believed Snow would go as far as obliterate the whole District in retaliation.
He had told her he had refused to go every chance he had gotten when they had been in Thirteen. Enforced sobriety hadn't been conductive to confronting that kind of demons. There were things, he had murmured into her neck, he couldn't face without a bottle.
Apparently, watching her scream her head off, mad with fear and pain, was one of them.
She wasn't particularly happy to have triggered his relapse but she also knew a relapse had only been a question of time. He hadn't actually chosen to become sober and his alcoholism was too deeply ingrained for him to quit without an excellent reason.
She had been hoping that, in time, in Four, with a lasting peace and a good life, she could have become that reason…
His hand covered hers on the table. She studied it for a moment. So big and tanned and slightly scarred compared to her own.
"My apologies." she whispered. "I am getting lost in my own thoughts."
"It's gonna be bad getting there." he said honestly. "But it should be alright in the Village. There's electricity and they're gonna keep us supplied… I've heard a few people already went back to start the clean-up so… Fucking waste of time if you ask me but… They're gonna rebuild. It's gonna be rough for a while but we're gonna be alright, sweetheart."
"Of course you will." She forced a smile. "You and Katniss are nothing but resilient."
"You're resilient too." he argued, searching her eyes. Then he tensed even more if that was possible, a sudden urgency clouding his gaze. "You're coming, yeah?"
She blinked.
It hadn't occurred to her that she could.
"Effie." he said, his voice rough. "Effie, I need you."
There was no lie there but…
"Would they even let me on the hovercraft?" she asked, a little faint.
"I'd like to see them try to stop us." he scoffed, relaxing a little. "Plutarch's gonna be here anyway. He's hitching a ride to Three. He can smooth things over. You've got to come. They won't let you see her if you're not gonna be on the hovercraft."
"You want me to go to Twelve?" she repeated, taking a sip of wine. Her fingers were shaking. "Haymitch, that's…"
"It's not Four." he cut her off. "It's not what I promised, I know. But… We're all gonna be together, yeah? That's what matters."
His tone was begging her to agree and she wanted to but…
"We won't all be together though." she remarked sadly. "I doubt the clinic will release Peeta tomorrow."
At the last reunion with his doctors, it had been clear Peeta's recovery was still a long way in coming. It would be weeks, perhaps months, before he was ready to be independent again. He had to learn ways to cope with his jumbled memories, ways to control his episodes, ways to deal with his trauma…
"We're gonna come back for him." he promised but it had a desperate fringe to it. As if he knew it was just wishful thinking.
And right there was the real reason she hadn't even considered the possibility of boarding the hovercraft with him and Katniss…
"Haymitch." she said quietly, forcing a smile that fell at the corners of her mouth.
Every two days they took the short train ride that brought them to the clinic a little outside the city. The regularity of the visits were just as important as their support. Peeta needed a support system. He needed the knowledge that people cared about him, loved him. He needed someone to go through some therapy sessions with him or to quietly sit with him afterwards while he unpacked what he had just gone through in his own time.
Haymitch held her gaze until he had to avert it, blinking what she suspected to be hints of tears. "Dammit."
"It will be alright." she lied. "You will take Katniss home and take care of her. I will stay behind to take care of Peeta."
"It's not my home." he spat. "Not anymore."
She toyed with her fork but she didn't think she could force herself to swallow any more. The fact that Haymitch wasn't even lecturing her about it when the doctors insisted she needed to gain some weight back told her everything she needed to know about his own state of mind.
"I know, darling." she acknowledged.
"How are you not angry?" he challenged, his own rage simmering underneath.
She took a deep breath, placed down the fork and smoothed the still unused napkin. "Would it help if I were?"
"I'm gonna leave you." He scowled, finishing his wine in one big gulp. "Ain't sure it's a good thing you take that so calmly."
"I am not calm." she denied. "I am simply better at controlling my temper."
He snorted but softened a little.
She entwined their fingers on the table. He didn't even glance around to make sure nobody was watching.
She could have gotten used to that, she thought. Being in the open with him.
In a way, she already had.
"You are not leaving me, you are simply leaving." she added. "Temporarily."
"My leaving ain't temporary." He let out a long deep breath. "I don't see them lifting the exile thing any time soon. It's gonna be a miracle if we can get them to let her have an actual adult status once she's eighteen." He shook his head. "That's gonna be a problem too. If she's under my responsibility and I kick the bucket…"
"Why would you speak of such things now?" she cut him off, a growl in her voice. She studied him, her brow furrowed. "Are you ill? Is there something you didn't tell me?"
He stared at her, clearly mulling something over, and then rolled his eyes, turning his head away. "When I was in withdrawals… Might be I had a tiny heart attack."
Blood left her face. She actually felt it all whoosh down.
"Excuse me?" she croaked.
"It's fine." he muttered, making a face. "Point is… I'm gonna seriously have to keep a lid on the drinking 'cause Katniss can't afford me to binge myself into a coma. Which is just great."
She touched her forehead with her free hand, took a long deep breath to calm herself… It didn't help that he squeezed her fingers in reassurance.
"Why do you choose now to tell me this?" she hissed.
"Cause if I had told you earlier you'd have made me see a fucking battalion of doctors and you had enough on your plate." he deadpanned.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Did you at least see one? One who does not come from Thirteen?"
He didn't look happy discussing this but she glared until he answered her.
"I went to see the guy from the Games Clinic." he admitted after a few seconds.
Effie relaxed. The head doctor of the Games Clinic had been there for years and she supposed he was the closest Haymitch ever had to a regular doctor. He had certainly drunk himself into enough stupors and injured himself enough times that the doctor had a good idea of his medical history.
"How did he escape the Purge?" she asked.
Anyone associated with the Games from close or afar had been executed. She couldn't imagine the person responsible for injecting trackers into tributes' arms would be spared.
"Doctors were in short supplies. Coin was gone by the time they stopped needed them." he explained. "Guess nobody remembered him at that point. Didn't say anything. He ain't a bad guy. Fixed victors up more times than I can count."
She hummed in agreement but refused to be distracted. "And what did he say?"
"Made me do cardiac stress tests or whatever they call it." He took his hand off hers so he could cut another small piece of his meat without much enthusiasm. "All good. He thinks it was the withdrawals. Said I shouldn't try quitting cold turkey again, that it put too much stress on my heart, there are pills or something to ease the body into it… Told me to come back to see him if I wanted to do that." He waved his fork in the air to dismiss his own point. "Never mind that… What happens if they don't ease up on the girl and I die, sweetheart? Ain't exactly like I'm gonna live to a hundred…"
"Do we have to talk about this?" she complained. "If you heart is doing well and you do not plan on actually drinking yourself to death tomorrow… I do not see that being an immediate problem. And if it sets your mind at ease… I would take over, naturally."
"Don't think they would let you." he argued. "That's my point. We…"
"Haymitch." she snapped. "You are worrying over things we have no control over and you are freaking me out in the process. Stop talking about dying when you are about to leave for the other side of the country. Please."
He opened his mouth to argue and then slowly closed it, his eyes caressing her face, his expression softening. "Eat your salad."
"I am not hungry." she refused, finishing her wine. "If you are done, let's go home."
There it was again, that word he didn't bother to dispute…
He glanced at her full plate, not quite pleased that she hadn't made an effort to eat, even though he had barely touched his own meat. "No dessert? They have that chocolate mousse you like, you know…"
"I am not hungry." she repeated.
"Cheap date." he accused.
Was that what it was?, she wanted to ask. A date? She had never thought to think about their meals at the café like that.
She forced a small smile, rearrange her features into something a little more cheerful. "Let's go home and have sex until we cannot think."
"Well…" he chuckled. "When you put it like that…"
She waited outside while he paid the bill, lighting herself a cigarette that he sulked at when he came out. She took a few long drags and then crushed it on the pavement, slipping her hand in his instead.
They walked at a leisured pace.
"You're gonna come when Peeta's ready, yeah?" he asked suddenly, as they were nearing her apartment's block. "Cause you never really answered that, sweetheart. You never said…" He tilted his head back at the darkening sky. It was reddish still but already one could guess at the neon beacons of the newly reopened clubs piercing the night. "Guess I could come back and visit sometimes but it ain't gonna be every week and I ain't sure we can do whatever we're doing long distance."
"We invented long distance." she teased.
Had he forgotten already that they used to have each other only a month a year? Two if they were lucky?
"That was before, Princess." he argued. "That was when it was all about sex."
"Are you saying you do not want to have sex with me anymore?" she taunted, faking vexation.
He didn't take the bait.
He stopped walking, tugging on her hand until she stopped too, apparently not caring that they were out in the open, where everybody could see them.
"I'm saying sex ain't the most important anymore." he stated, searching her eyes. "And you still haven't say yes."
She wanted to say yes.
Of course, she wanted to say yes.
But…
"I was Twelve's escort." she reminded him quietly. "I reaped twenty-four of their children and only two of them survived. And look at the state they are in."
"You've been pardoned." he argued.
"Because I am your lover." she answered in a deep breath. That was everyone's theory to explain the surprising turn of events that had resulted in her escaping the mass execution of Games' staff. People called her a whore or an opportunist. She didn't care much for those labels but, at the core, they were right. The only reason she was still alive was Haymitch. "I doubt people in Twelve will accept that and forgive and forget. I am who I am. We cannot change our pasts."
"Effie." He cupped her cheek. "Please. I'm gonna talk to them. I'm gonna explain…"
She leaned into his palm with a soft smile. "What will you explain? That I lured you into caring for me through my vile Capitol sexual tricks?"
She had meant it as a joke but he leaned forward, rested his forehead against hers. "I'll explain we're a team. The kids will help. It's gonna be fine."
But it wouldn't be.
Certainly not in the near future.
War wounds were still raw.
And she couldn't blame them.
"We have tonight." she whispered. "Let's make the most of it."
"Don't leave me." he begged, tangling his fingers in her hair.
"I am not the one leaving." she argued and it was unfair. Of course, it was unfair because he didn't have a choice, did he? He never had. She gritted her teeth. "It might be good. Some distance… We jumped into this but… You could barely bear the sight of me before the Quell and…"
"Don't." he demanded. "I took my head out of my ass when you disappeared. Let's not lie about what this is."
"I do not know what this is." she sighed. "And I do not want to get into it right now when you will leave in the morning."
"When do you want to get into it, then?" he scoffed. "It's now or never."
She recoiled, escaping his grip. "Do not give me ultimatums." She started walking toward their apartment again, her heels clicking hard on the pavement. "You never wanted to talk about us. You never wanted to acknowledge there was an us."
"You know why." He caught up with her, reached for her arm but she dodged his hand. "It was dangerous! But now…"
"Now you want me to leave everything behind and move to the back-end of nowhere where everybody will hate me." she cut him off. "And all for a leap of faith that you won't fall back into your old ways next time you have a fright." Because that was what she was afraid of. That something would trigger something else and that he would end up rejecting her again. To protect her or himself. She was afraid of that and… "Besides, you said yourself it was not about sex anymore. What are we if we are not about sex? Convenience and companionship are all good but…"
"Convenience and companionship?" he scoffed. "The fuck you're talking about?"
She searched her purse for her keys as they reached the front door but she couldn't find them. She didn't let herself stop to think about what it meant when he simply slid his from his pocket and unlocked the door.
"Do we have to fight tonight?" she snapped. "Can we not just…"
"You're the one starting a fight." he spat.
"You're the one putting expectations on me." she retorted, jabbing the elevator button.
"Cause you've never expected anything of me." he scoffed mockingly and then shook his head, pressing the button to their floor once they were inside the cabin. "Don't even know what we're fighting about…"
She simmered in her righteous anger for a moment and then deflated. "I lost track, I will admit."
He coiled his hand around her nape, squeezed gently and then tugged her closer.
"I want you to come to Twelve." he demanded against her lips. "Be with me. Wait for Peeta, sure. But come."
She kissed him slowly, ignoring the elevator doors that were opening. "It is scary."
He frowned and kissed her harder. "What I felt in Thirteen when you were gone… That scared me."
It was a huge admission from his part but it wasn't enough. "And now?"
"Now…" He let his voice trail off, stole another small kiss. "Now I'm scared I'm gonna lose you all over again."
She closed her eyes, dropped her forehead on his shoulder. "I am scared of the words you are not saying, the words you cannot say. I am scared I am only imagining things or that you think you feel that way because of what happened to me. I am scared that…"
She couldn't finish.
The elevator doors closed with a ding and neither of them made a move to open them again. They should have waited until they were home to have that conversation.
"Would it be easier if…" He swallowed with difficulties. "If I said the words?"
His whole body had tensed and she wasn't sure how he planned on saying words she knew for a fact he hadn't uttered in twenty five years.
Neither of them were very good at facing their fears.
"That is even scarier than going with you to Twelve." she admitted.
"Too scary?" he asked.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. "For now… Yes. I need time. And space."
He took a few deep breaths and tightened his own embrace. "I'm guessing you don't mean tonight cause you're gonna have enough time and space soon so…"
She muffled her chuckles against his neck, blinking hard against the tears burning her eyes. "Let's go home."
She reached for the button to open the doors and dragged him behind her by the hand. They barely managed to open the apartment door before they were all over each other.
They didn't sleep much that night.
They spent the time they didn't have sex snuggling close together, committing the feeling to memory.
"You're my home." he muttered against her skin eventually.
She wasn't certain if he knew she was awake or not.
She turned around anyway and pressed her lips against the skin of his shoulder, mouthed the three words she didn't dare say out loud…
Word of update: I will try to keep updating on Wednesdays from now on since work schedule is what works best for me.
Did you enjoy this one? Let me know!