Gilded
Summary: Haymitch's POV on Effie through "Catching Fire," up to and including Effie's "rescue" from The Capitol.
Author's Note: All typos with henceforth be blamed on drunk Haymitch! But on a more serious note, I'm a little nervous about writing from his point of view, so let me know if you think I captured his voice at all.
Effie Trinket is annoying.
This is what he takes from his early experiences with her. Her outfits are ridiculous, her hair is frightening, and good lord, the woman never stops talking, how can she possibly keep going on that long without using up all the oxygen in the room?
When they first start "working together," he focuses on hating her, as he usually does with the Escorts that are sent his way. It typically works out well, in that he never has to see their smug, powdered faces again. Of course, the down side is that there is always another smug, powdered face to replace the previous one next year. Still, he takes a grim sort of pleasure in driving them away, a bitter sort of pride in his reputation for being "difficult."
Usually, hating the Escorts is an easy task.
But when he hears the sound of Effie Trinket throwing up after their tributes fall, he has a feeling that this time it might take a little more … focus.
So he reminds himself that she doesn't actually care, that she's just like the rest of the Capitol scum, stupid, soulless, weak.
Then the next year, when she returns, her jaw clenched in resolution, he thinks he might have to cross "weak" off the list.
In their second year, for some reason, he actually starts listening to Effie's chatter and begins to realize that (at times) she may actually be saying things of significance. She knows the social politics of The Capitol, she knows the gossip. More importantly, she knows who has money, and who needs an excuse to spend that money, and who might even take a long shot by sponsoring the kids from District 12.
He puts his drink down and listens to her. She notices this, and blinks at him confusedly, unaccustomed for to having his attention.
"Effie?"
"Yes, Haymitch?"
"Let's get to work."
Effie introduces him to the right people and tells him the right things to say. He hates having to smile and talk with them, but in the end, he gets some money, and it just must help him buy something to make one of the kids live a little longer.
He thinks he's done until Effie grips his arm.
"Haymitch?" She whispers theatrically.
"What?" He huffs. He's been at this long enough, he needs a damn drink.
"You see that man in the corner?"
He follows her gaze to a middle-aged man in an outfit that make's Effie's look subtle.
"Don't scowl," Effie hisses at him. "Do you know who that man is?"
"Don't know, don't care."
"Do you know how much money he has?"
"Now that, I do care about."
Effie begins feeding him information in a low voice, and before long, he's strolling towards the man, with Effie on his arm. She makes the introductions smoothly, and then excuses herself at just the right moment, and in the end, he gets enough cash to send both the kids some potentially life-saving gifts.
They still die, of course, but they last a lot longer than anyone from District 12 has in a long time.
Well, now he has to cross "stupid" off the list too. There's a brain under all that (fake) hair. Huh. Who knew?
When he tells her she's the first Escort who's stayed with 12 since he became a Mentor, she informs him that she's not going anywhere, and …
It's getting a little harder to hate Effie Trinket.
But he'll work on it. She's still plenty annoying at least.
Their third year … Katniss and Peeta. For once, he actually has a couple of fighters on his hands. He knows it, Effie knows it. His money's on Katniss, but he won't count Peeta out either, because the boy is so damn likeable, and he knows just how to play to the cameras and the crowd.
Effie takes to them both, but she dotes on Peeta in a way that's almost … motherly.
He starts to think he might have to cross "soulless" off the list.
Damn.
He needs to drink.
Which is what he's doing the night before the Games when Effie barges into his room. It's a surprising breach of etiquette for her, which means she must be fired up about something.
She starts lecturing him about Sponsors. He doesn't mind so much, the barging in, or the lectures, but when she grabs his bottle, that's when she crosses the line.
How they end up pressed against each other, with Effie's back hitting the wall, he can't quite figure out.
She smells good.
She also looks pretty good, despite her ridiculous outfit and layers of makeup. Effie Trinket has a damn nice body – how is he just noticing this now? Oh, who is he kidding, he noticed before this alright, he may feel half-dead most of the time but he's still a man after all, and she's attractive, and infuriating, and he wants to ruffle her feathers, and he doesn't much care if he takes it too far.
She's trembling in his arms.
When he kisses her, she opens her mouth and lets his tongue slip in.
Uh-oh. This may not have been his brightest idea …
Maybe he should stop.
Or maybe he should just throw her on the bed and take her. She's warm, and soft, and it's been too damn long since he …
But the train intervenes, and she walks out on him, though he can tell she wants to stay.
She says he'll forget this by morning.
He doesn't, but figures the wisest course of action is to pretend he did.
When Katniss and Peeta triumph, she hugs him. She still smells good. Why does she have to do that?
He tries to remember what's left on his list of things to hate about her.
He can't think of anything.
He needs another drink.
Effie is her usual bubbly (annoying! he means annoying!) self at the start of the Victory Tour. They settle in, but when she tells Katniss she's "earned" her time in the spotlight, he knows it's the start of trouble.
"By killing people!"
"Young lady…" Effie begins, but doesn't have the chance to finish, as Katniss stalks off, followed closely by Peeta, and for once, Effie falls silent.
It's disconcerting.
"Effie…" He begins.
"It's … it's alright." She says softly. A pause, and then, "I know she had to do some … unpleasant things to get here, but … she won! She won the Games! She deserve to get something for all she's been through… I just …"
Haymitch sighs. "Effie… nobody ever really ever really wins the Games. There are … survivors … but there are no winners, not really."
He doesn't know what's compelling him to be so frank with her. He reaches for his glass.
Another unnatural bout of silence. He starts to think he should leave, but then she speaks again.
"Is that how you feel, Haymitch? Not like a Victor, but just … a survivor?"
He doesn't look at her. "Pretty much."
"You deserve better." She says it so softly he almost doesn't hear her.
"What?"
"You deserve better than to just … survive. You were so … so amazing when you won your Games –"
"Don't talk about my Games!" He snarls, and she winces. "Please," he add more softly.
"It's … it's just … you're my Victor too, Haymitch. And I'm … proud of you."
Ridiculous. That's a ridiculous thing to say.
But somehow, he doesn't even feel the urge to laugh at her.
He keeps his eyes focused on the table, on his glass, as she rises, and he hears the click of her heels as she walks towards him. Her scent surrounds him as she hesitantly lays a hand on her shoulder and then, after a moment, gives it a squeeze.
He says nothing, doesn't look at her. But he puts his hand on top of hers.
The Victory Tour comes to a merciful end, Peeta proposes, Katniss accepts, and of course, they wind up at the Presidential Palace. Effie wears another ridiculous outfit, he drinks, and finally, finally, it's time to go back to 12. It's over.
Or so he thinks, until Plutarch Heavensbee approaches him, and the world explodes.
And then, the Third Quarter Quell.
After he spends his rage, he knows the only thing he can do is keep the Mockingjay alive.
Unfortunately, that involves lying to her.
And she's not the only one.
The next time he sees Effie is the day of the Reaping. She's got on this silly … butterfly outfit. Butterflies are not something he's too fond of, not since his Games, but these ones don't look like the ones in the Arena, these look like real butterflies, not Mutts, he thinks they're called …Monarchs?
Her wig this time is relatively more natural-looking, a sort of … golden color that he thinks might resemble what he imagines her real hair to look like (not that he's imagined it, lying alone in his bed, or how it would feel, running through his fingers) and she looks …
Well, she looks about as miserable as the rest of them.
She says Katniss' name, as she must, and then…
"Haymitch Abernathy."
Does she stumble a little bit over his name, or does he imagine it? He can't tell if she's relieved, or scared, or …
But it doesn't matter, because Peeta volunteers, and there's no way to stop him.
Later on the train, Effie says, "I've had a thought."
"You don't say," he snipes, but she only looks at him with a little smile, as if knowing he's gently teasing rather than expressing his contempt for her (sometimes he's not sure himself which way he means it).
She talks about tokens, and gold, and how they're a team, and …
Damn it.
He reaches for her hand, feels it warm in his own, and then he lets go.
On the eve of the Games, she presents him with a gold bangle, a surprisingly simple, almost elegant token. He was worried it might be something more … ornate.
In any case, it gives him an idea.
Peeta gets his medallion, and Effies hugs both of them, tells them she's proud, tells them she's sorry.
He wonders what it exactly it is that she's sorry for.
Does she know that she too has blood on her hands?
He gives his last pieces of his advice, and leaves them to themselves.
When he returns to the main room, Effie is already gone. Apparently, she's retired for the evening, to continue crying alone.
He thinks about going to talk to her, then thinks about what might happen if he did…
He takes another drink.
The next morning, they sit side by side, eyes glued to the television as the Games start to begin. We she sees the Arena, Effie gasps.
"That is no place for a girl on fire."
He's inclined to agree.
The only good moment is when Effie catches sight of the gold bangle Finnick is sporting.
After the action dies down in the Arena, she turns to him with a look of indignation.
"You gave your token to him?"
"Relax Effie." Loosen your corset. "I've still got mine." She looks dubious, so he shows it to her, tucked under his sleeve. "I had another one made. So Katniss knows she can trust him."
"Can she?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." Effie purses her lips. "Well, all right then," she says. He rolls his eyes, and they both turn back to the screen.
Just in time to see Peeta hit the force field.
Effie screams.
They both watch, transfixed, as Finnick tries to revive him. Effie has put her hands to her mouth, as if to stifle the anguished whimpers that still escape from her.
When Peeta starts breathing again, she begins sobbing in relief.
He doesn't quite know how it happens, but he's got her arms around her, and she's buried her painted face in his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she keeps saying.
"Shh, Effie, shh, it's okay…" It's not. But it's Effie, so…
Eventually, she quiets, and their tributes sleep, and so do they.
At least, they must have. Because when he wakes up from a surprising lack of nightmares, Effie's still curled up by his side.
Well, this is …
Her makeup is all smeared, and he can see her real skin shining through, soft, smooth. She looks … younger somehow. He wig is crooked again, and he wonders if he could just slide it off, see what her real hair looks like…
He's contemplating that notion when she shifts, and her eyes flutter open. "Mm. Oh. Oh!" She looks up at him in wide-eyed bewilderment.
But she doesn't move.
He swallows. "You fell asleep," he mutters.
She smiles. "Looks like you did, too."
Her hand brushes across his cheek …
And Katniss starts screaming that the fog is poison, and then they're both too busy watching to think of anything else.
The next night, it happens again. He's not even sitting that close to her, but somehow, they wind up curled together on the couch. Forget sex (okay, not really, but still) it's been so long since he's even had this, the simple, reassuring warmth of someone beside him. Since he's clutched another person to him instead of a bottle or a knife.
It's the best sleep he's had in a long time.
The third night, according to the plan, it's time for him to go.
And the third night, once again, she's curled up in his arms.
"Effie," he mutters, and she stirs, opens her eyes, looks at him trustingly.
"Effie…" He could tell her. He could tell everything, and …
And what? Take her with him?
No. He can't. Not now. She's a Capitol Citizen. She's been tracked from birth, though she may not even know it. He doesn't have the time or the tech to undo her trackers. If she comes with him, they'll find them all, and the revolution dies.
"Effie, I … I gotta go take care of something."
She looks down, and he knows she thinks he means drinking. "All right," she says softly.
"I'll see you later. Get some rest."
Before he knows what he's doing, his lips are pressed against her forehead. Effie blushes prettily. Damn her. There's nothing left, there's nothing left to hate. Where the hell does that leave him?
That leaves him with her, with silly, annoying, infuriating Effie Trinket, and soft and sweet and sleepy and stupidly, so stupidly believing what he says.
He eases himself away from her, instantly feeling the lack of her warmth.
"Hurry back," she murmurs, and sinks into the cushions.
"Effie?"
"Hmm?"
"Be careful."
"Mmm. You too." She's already sunken back into sleep.
She doesn't know what he meant.
But it's all the warning they can give.
Later, when he's in the hovercraft with the others, and Katniss' strangled cries of "liar" won't stop echoing in his ears, Heavensbee approaches him.
"I need your input," he says.
"On what?"
"Oh who from the Capitol we need to extract."
He names everyone on the prep teams, and when Heavensbee informs him that they're all dead, he wishes desperately for a drink.
They were stupid and silly. But if they're dead, does that mean…?
"What about the Escort?"
"Trinket? According to my contacts in the Capitol, she hasn't been found. They went to her home, but she wasn't there." His eyes narrow, as if something is just occurring to him. "Did you tip her off?"
"No." Not really. "But Effie's smart."
He raises an eyebrow, but does not make any other comment. "So you think we should extract her?"
"Yeah." He pauses. "She's the closest thing to a prep team we've got right now. She'll know how to make Katniss look good for your … propos."
"You think she'll go willingly with an extraction team?"
The question hangs in the air.
We're a team … aren't we?
He reaches under his sleeve, and hands Heavensbee his token, the gold bangle, a gilded symbol of Effie's foolish faith in him.
"She will if one of them has this."