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Chapter 2

Something was wrong.

His brows knitted together as he stared at his arm.

"That can't be right," Finnick jostled him, looking at the clock. "Didn't you give her some?"

"Twenty-four hours," Haymitch said. "She should have thirty at least. It can't go down this fast."

His chair scraped noisily against the floor as he stood up. Katniss stirred but remained sleeping. Barking an order at Finnick and Beetee to get him the moment Katniss opened her eyes, Haymitch left in a hurry to get to Effie.

The numbers should increase as she received treatment. He gave her those hours so the doctors could treat her until she was out of danger and once her body started to heal, her lifespan would increase. The clock never lied which meant Effie Trinket was dying in the hospital room.

Haymitch barged into the treatment room, ignoring the protests of the nurses.

"Effie Trinket – where is she? Which room?"

"This way… But you are not allowed in. You can wait here."

"Like hell I will," he growled, turning the door handle and letting himself in. "What's happening? What's wrong with her?"

The nurse from earlier glanced up and the look of recognition flickered across her face. "Is something wrong?"

"She's got 6 hours," Haymitch answered. "Two hours ago when she came in from the Capitol, she had more than a day to go by."

"You need to leave," someone tried to push him out.

"No, no," the doctor shook his head. "Let him stay. We've done all the major procedures that needed to be done. It's fine. Sit here, Mr. Abernathy, and talk to her. Talk to her. She's giving up and if she does, nothing I do will save her."

Effie was lying on her stomach, her face turned to her side. They had cleaned her face of the dirt and grime, and what remained was a pale-faced woman with chapped lips and sunken cheeks.

Haymitch settled down near her head and tried not to look at the multiple lashes on her back. The wound had festered and the doctor was trying to clean the pus and abscess for a better look at the extent of her injuries.

"Hey, sweetheart," he began.

He shifted in his seat, slightly uneasy. Glancing up, he noticed that the nurses were not even paying him any attention, focused instead on their work. He raised a hand and brushed the stray hairs off her face. There was a cut near her temple and he ran his thumb lightly against it.

"I'm here, sweetheart," he spoke to her, keeping his voice low. "I don't know what's happenin' but you're losing time fast. You ain't bleeding to death or anythin' like that so I don't – You're stubborn enough not to give up this easily. You don't give up. You could have given up on me and walked away all those years ago, take up that promotion and find another district, but you didn't. So don't you fucking give up on me now."

He heaved a breath and rubbed his neck uncomfortably. He pulled on the collar of his uniform, suddenly feeling hot and bothered. A heavy sense of dread had settled in his chest from the moment he stepped into this room. He felt suffocated and his fingers scratched against his neck, clawing at the invisible tendril he thought was wounding its away around his throat and squeezing it.

The numbers on his arms was five hours and thirty minutes. Her life was slipping away and it felt as if he was the one dying together with her.

Nothing felt right with him at the moment and he figured it was the bond acting up. The connection was intricate and unfathomable, and a part of him loathed it. It made him yearn for her when the Games were not in session. It made him incapable of keeping his hands to himself. Effie often said it was because she was irresistible and because his lust was insatiable. She could be right, he supposed, or it could also be because she was his and he needed to be with her; to touch her, to feel her, to hold her close. It made him dependent on her and there was nothing that irked him more than that.

He envied her at times. Free to be on her own, unshackled.

"We've got you someplace safe. All you need to do is hold on alright?" he continued in the same quiet tone, muttering against her skin. "You got to keep fighting. Katniss and Peeta need you. You've no damn idea who you are to me, Effie. No idea. And I need you alive. So while you are still breathing, you stay alive."

"It's too infected," the doctor's voice broke through him. "The poisoning is – She's going into shock!"

Haymitch was pushed aside. He watched her body convulsed in a strange detached manner, knowing for a fact that she would not die. It wasn't her time. There was still a few hours left. In five hours, another shock might send her into cardiac arrest and kill her, but not this one. She would survive this only to suffer later.

When the needle pricked her skin and the convulsion stopped, the nurse approached him.

"Let me see your arm," she requested.

He pulled his sleeve and sucked in a breath. Three hours.

"I thought so. The shock affects her heart, made it weaker. Are you able to give more? We need more time to treat her. Another day...?"

He nodded numbly, took her arm and held it tight in his palm. 27 hours.

He heard words such as 'possible drowning', 'fractured ribs' and 'collapsed lungs' without truly listening to understand.

Even as he left her side for a short while to check on the others, he kept a close eye on the clock.

"I'm lucky I haven't got anyone to worry myself to death like that," Johanna croaked, turning her head to talk to him. "Pun intended."

"Horrible pun but yeah," he shrugged, giving her a sardonic smirk, "you get to choose who you want to be with or not."

"Don't you? Just 'cause Trinket's your soulmate, it doesn't mean you got to be with her."

Haymitch snorted. "You think I haven't tried? One night stand doesn't work anymore, something always get in the way. I tried to avoid her and something inside me burns. Fate's a bitch."

"Clearly. If you're not her soulmate, you're going to spend the rest of your life miserable. Your realize that, huh?"

"Haymitch has to be Effie's soulmate," Annie chimed in confidently from where she sat perched on Johanna's bed. "That's how it works. You are hers and she is yours, just like Finnick and I. Maybe she hasn't realized it yet, that's all, but when she does and her soul is triggered and tuned in to yours the way yours is tuned in to hers, nothing will stand in your way."

"Yeah, Haymitch, listen to the crazy one," Johanna snickered. "Oh, and Trinket just lost three hours."

He found himself hurrying to her ward again. The minutes ticked away as fast as Haymitch could drink to the bottom of a bottle. The doctor was certain that her physical injuries would heal and yet, as Haymitch sat with her, he watched the numbers kept decreasing and he kept giving without a thought – five, six, twelve hours as long as she continued to have a day to her life.

Plutarch was sympathetic and Finnick, on some level, understood why he needed to do it. Beetee, on the other hand, tried to put some sense into him, resulting in a loud argument in Effie's hospital room.

"You can't keep doing that. You're wasting your time. You kept giving and it kept vanishing because she's not fighting back. This is illogical. Think about it."

"Screw your logic, Beetee," Haymitch spat. "As long as there's something I can do, I'm going to do it. I have all this time – my time, my life – so I'll do what I want with it."

"It's a fool's errand given that you are completely in the dark on how many years you have on you. You have already given her – what? – a week, a month of your life? You're not even keeping track."

"She in that prison for weeks," he growled low in his throat. "What's a fucking week of my life compared to that? She wouldn't be in there if it wasn't for me."

"Don't put that blame on you. It's not your fault. They got to her first," Plutarch added.

"Yeah? Try telling that to the boy," he waved his hand at Finnick. "Cause let me tell you, Plutarch, he's still sitting there thinking there was a way for him to save Annie when she was in Four. Effie wasn't in Four, was she? No, she was with me in the Capitol. I could have made it so she was on the same hovercraft as me."

"What good will you be to Katniss and Peeta if your time runs out?" Beetee said, careful to keep a congenial tone. "Your responsibility is not to Ms. Trinket alone. There are others here who are dependent on you."

Haymitch exhaled and ran his fingers through her hair. Beetee, loathe as he was to admit it, was right. Katniss had started something that they had all been waiting for years and Katniss could not do this without him by her side.

He just wished he didn't have to sacrifice Effie but if he were to drop dead because his time ran out, it wouldn't do the world any good.

"This shit destroys you," he glanced over his shoulder to look at them. "I've seen what it's done to Iris Everdeen when she lost her husband," and to my mother, he swallowed the words. "It destroys you."

And he knew that losing her would do the same to him when he had already lost so many others.

"I'm sorry, Haymitch, but you have to face the facts. She is living on borrowed time. She would have died yesterday if it wasn't for you."

"It's not borrowed," he shook his head. "It was given freely."

"Effie?" Finnick started, lurching forward.

Haymitch's head snapped back to see her staring at the ceiling, blue eyes hazy and unfocused. Her breathing was shallow and she scrunched her eyes as if in pain but she was awake.

Nothing else mattered to him.

XxX

Each night, he gave her a few hours to last through the night, just for his peace of mind, prolonging her life and giving her body time to heal. It took her a few more days to regain her strength and Haymitch stopped discreetly palming hours when he checked his arm to see that she had gained two more days on her own without his help.

"When I first woke up, you were arguing. What did you give me?" she asked, sitting propped on the bed.

"Medicine," he deadpanned.

She studied him for a long time before she looked away. "You are lying."

Haymitch nudged her gently and she shuffled a little to make room for him. He moved to the bed, legs stretched out before him and leaned back as he placed his arm behind her. She scooted close and tucked her head on his shoulder.

"Will you stay? Stay with me tonight."

"Yeah."

They were good with silences. In the beginning, it was often to ignore the other but they learnt to be comfortable in it. He could spend his time drinking quietly in the Penthouse listening to her pen scratch against paper as Effie plan the schedule for the team and this time, it was no different. For a long while, the only sound was of them breathing and the low hum of the machines in the room.

"I heard you," she voiced out suddenly, jolting him awake. "You were talking to me and telling me not to give up. I heard you. Was it real?"

"Yes. The doctor said I should."

"I wanted to die in that prison, Haymitch. I never wanted the suffering and I wanted it to end. Johanna wouldn't let me. She was relentless and vulgar but she kept me alive long enough. I was a coward. I wanted to die. I was a coward."

"You're not," Haymitch frowned. "Don't say shit like that."

"There was so much pain, more than my body could bear. I couldn't stand to see the look in Peeta's eyes each time they hurt me to get to him. I didn't want to go on anymore. I thought with me gone, they would stop hurting Peeta."

"They wouldn't. They'd find something or someone else."

She wiped the tears away and Haymitch let her a moment to gather herself.

"I don't remember being brought here," she gestured at the hospital room. "Do you remember your nightmares when you wake up, Haymitch? Because I do. In my dreams, I wanted to leave, put it all behind but – "

"But what?"

"It's strange," she mused. "There was a part of me that believed so firmly that it wasn't yet my time. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't turn my back on it. Something was pulling me," she burrowed further into him and changed the subject. "This is nice. You've never held me like this before."

He cleared his throat. "Good," he forced the words out. "Don't be in such a hurry to leave."

"I don't think I will be leaving so soon now. I was gone for a while and look at what you're wearing. Utterly dreadful," she clicked her tongue.

Haymitch bit his tongue. He should probably tell her that once she was discharged, she would have to wear what he was wearing but he decided that he would much rather see her face when she realized nothing else exist in her wardrobe except the grey uniforms.

A wave of emotions rolled over him and engulfed him, and he sat up straighter.

"Look, sweetheart," he said suddenly, turning to look at her. "None of this was supposed to happen the way it did. You were supposed to be safe in District Thirteen with me. I should have gotten you on the hovercraft that I was on instead of – "

She placed a finger on his lips and shook her head.

"I will have you know that I am angry you kept me in the dark. I trust you but you didn't have the same trust in me. There will be a time to talk about this. Not now, Haymitch. I'm tired and I don't want to fight with you tonight. Hold me until I fall asleep. I sleep better that way."

"Bossy," he muttered even as he kissed her temple.

She laughed lightly but it faltered at the sight of him.

Haymitch was staring. The line of scar on her temple was shrinking and right before his eyes, it disappeared completely as if Effie never bore the mark to begin with.

Years ago, he had desperately kissed his girl's scar in the hopes of seeing it gone but fate had disappointed him and now…

"What's the matter, Haymitch?" Effie held his arm in a death grip. "Is something wrong?"

He swallowed, lost for words. His hands shook and with trembling fingers, he reached out to unbutton her blouse.

"No," Effie pushed his hand away, her eyes widened in alarm. "No, I'm not in the mood – "

"Just let me," he pleaded, voice raw. "It's not sex that I want but I need to know."

The two buttons came undone and there, on her collar bone was another angry red scar, a knife mark. His eyes sought hers. She stared back uncomprehendingly. Without another word, he dropped a kiss to it and she gasped at the unexpected gesture.

"Haymitch?"

He grabbed a small hand held mirror and held it front of her so she could see the scar disappearing.

"Do you see it? Do you know what it means?"

She said nothing, her eyes fixed on the scar. She ran a finger over it in awe much like he had years ago when Effie had made his scar disappeared.

"Effie," he shook her lightly. "Look at me."

"You're my -" she choked on the words. Her blue eyes searched his and she framed his face with her hands. "You're mine."

That sent a chill down his spine and he forced himself to breathe. Something else was on his mind. His clock – the years counting down to what remained of his life – was on her ribcage. He grabbed the end of her hospital blouse and bunched it in his hand only to pause.

Do I really want to know?

Realising that he would eventually see it, he pushed the blouse up and blinked at the numbers staring up at him. He leaned back. It was a relief to know he wouldn't be dying in this war even if being in the middle of it had nearly cut his lifespan in half.

15 years 3 months and 11 hours.