This one is unprompted, just a little thing that takes place during VT after Eleven. Hope you like it!

The Only Sort Of Medecine

"Effie, you can't." Haymitch growled, reaching for her arm.

She sidestepped his hand easily and kept on striding down the train's corridor at a brisk pace, her heels hitting the hardboard floor with a murderous clicking sound.

"Watch me." she spat, her eyes glaring daggers.

Haymitch cursed under his breath and, this time, he didn't try to be gentle when he grabbed her wrist. He wasn't gentle either when he dragged her back, kicking and screaming, toward the bedroom cars. Cinna's head popped out of his room at the commotion, assessed the situation and wisely went back inside, leaving them to their own business. He wasn't sure where the kids were, somewhere on board simmering in their respective anger, no doubt.

There were only three things he was certain about: Eleven had been a disaster of epic proportions, Victory Tour wasn't going to get better and confronting the team of Peacekeepers assigned to the train 'for their security' wouldn't end well for anyone.

Four things in fact.

The last one was: Effie should have known better.

He half pushed, half tossed her in her bedroom and slammed the door shut, his own temper slipping away from him. "Are you done being fucking stupid?"

Her blue eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare. "Do not dare…"

"Oh, I'm gonna dare." He scowled. "When you're doing reckless stupid stuff, yeah, I'm gonna dare."

Fuck, but he wanted a stiff drink. Maybe two. Maybe a whole bottle.

"These people are dead." she hissed. "They are dead. They killed them. Right in front of us. Right in front of the children. They are dead."

He didn't bother reminding her there had been a door between them and the executions taking place in front of Eleven's Justice Building. He didn't bother telling her off for having gotten in the face of a Peacekeeper about it once already – and thanks fuck Cinna was quick to pull her away, thanks fuck.

"Yeah, and we're not. Not yet." He snorted. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

She sucked in a breath and stopped acting like a ruffled peacock to hug herself, suddenly looking smaller and more vulnerable.

He passed his hand over his face, his anger deflating a little. "Look, sweetheart…"

"I apologize." she said quickly. "I apologize, of course, you are right. And they were criminals. Not worth getting upset over, really. The Peacekeepers know what they are doing. I was just upset because… Well, the children shouldn't have witnessed that violence, that is all. The Tour is supposed to be a joyful celebration and…"

Her voice trailed off.

It was hard to tell if she meant any of that or not.

Probably not.

But if she was calm enough to remember the bugs that listened to them around the clock, then she was also probably lucid enough to realize storming into the Peacekeepers car and demanding answers wasn't too smart.

He nodded at her and buried his hands in his pockets. "You did a good job with the speeches."

She scoffed, turning to the dressing table bolted to the floor. She sat down and started removing the pins from her wig. "It would have been better if they hadn't gone off script."

"That won't happen again." He said it for her benefits as well as for the people who were listening.

She took off her wig and tousled her blond hair and he felt a stir of want. After the day they'd had, he wanted the comfort of a bottle of liquor and her soft skin. But he was also hyper aware that people would be listening to them and while he was usually able to ignore it, right then, it was more than he could do to pretend they had any sort of privacy.

He sighed. "Good night, sweetheart."

She looked up at him, surprised and perhaps a little confused, as if she had just assumed he wouldn't leave just yet, that they would…

"I really am sorry, Haymitch." she insisted.

"I know." He forced a smirk. "Got a headache, is all. I'm gonna head to bed."

She relaxed a little but still frowned with worry. "Do you need pills for that? I have some in my bathroom."

"I'll do the good old medicine." he dismissed. Because he couldn't resist the impulse, he leaned down and pressed a kiss on her forehead before retreating to the door.

"Alcohol isn't medicine!" she shot after him.

She was wrong on that account, he thought as he closed her bedroom door behind him.

Alcohol was the only medicine worth something sometimes.