Entangled
Summary: What I hope will happen between Effie and Haymitch in Mockingjay – Part 2.
Effie's POV
Finally, something to celebrate!
Goodness knows, there's been precious little to be happy about. It should have been a triumph, liberating the Vcitors, and Coin and Plutarch certainly put their best spin on it. Johanna Mason and Annie Cresta seem more or less intact, but … Peeta.
Oh, poor Peeta. Dear sweet boy. What have they done to him?
It's almost worse than if they'd killed him. It's like they've robbed him of his soul. His kind, gentle soul, he was always such a thoughtful boy, willing to do what it took to win the Games, but ultimately so full of compassion, and full of love for Katniss, despite knowing that she may never be able to love him back in the same way…
And she certainly knows what that's like…
Banishing the thought, Effie tells herself to focus on the positive. They have reunited at least one couple. Finnick Odair's "heartthrob" persona may have caused the Capitol not to play up his connection to Annie, like they did with Katniss and Peeta, but anyone with eyes can see how deeply those two are in love. He seems to be literally unable to let her go, it's actually quite touching to see the two of them, just the way they look at each other…
In any case, they are to be married, and not in the usual drab District 13 fashion, where the couple just gets assigned new living quarters. They're to have an actually wedding, with cake and flowers and everything. After making some protests, even Coin saw the necessity of this. At the very least, they'll get some propos out of the footage.
And for the first time in forever, she has an event to go to…
Now, if only she had more wardrobe options…
And more makeup…
And her wigs…
As if on cue, she hears Cinna's voice in her head. How he used to tell her, "Less is more" (who ever heard of such a thing?). How every year he tried to get her to show her natural hair, even offering to style it for her. How he told her she was beautiful underneath it all, and how someone would notice if she just let him …
Sometimes, she misses him so much it hurts. Her friend, who knew how she felt about Haymitch without her having to say anything, who didn't make judgements, who just offered her his ear and his shoulder and his unconditional support.
So maybe she should take his advice…
Haymitch's POV
Stupid wedding.
Waste of time. Waste of resources.
He thought he got out of attending "society functions" when he fled the Capitol, but it appears he was wrong.
And there won't even be any booze …
He feels surly and childish. He shouldn't be so annoyed by this thing, he knows. He doesn't begrudge either Annie Cresta or Finnick Odair their happiness, the poor kids have been through enough, they certainly deserve a little peace. But he hates these kind of things, he always has, ever since his Games, and the more happy, smiling people he sees, the more he thinks of Peeta, trapped in his own mind…
They say he's making progress, whatever the hell that means. They even let him make the cake for the wedding. But he's still not back, he's still not their Peeta, and he doesn't know if he will ever be. It's worse than if he died, and the rage against the Capitol boils in him, and all he wants to do is to drink himself into a stupor and curl up and sleep it off in some dark corner…
But instead, he's here, dressed up, or as dressed up as you can be in Thirteen, waiting for a wedding to begin.
He wonders vaguely where Effie is.
He wonders how outlandishly she will manage to dress…
Might be worth attending this thing, just see that.
Even if there's no booze.
Although he looks around, he doesn't see Effie as the wedding begins. He knows she's got to be here – she loved these things during the Games, she's probably in her glory that she's finally got an event to attend again – but apparently she's not dressed too ridiculously, at least not enough to stand out from the crowd, which is, unsurprisingly, a lot of gray. Formal wear isn't exactly a priority around here, and although some people, mostly the refugees, have managed to scare up dresses and ties, most people are in the standard jump suits. But still, they are smiling, excited, and generally happy for the young couple and the rare opportunity to celebrate something.
And he must admit, when Annie makes her appearance, she looks quite lovely.
She's in one of Katniss' old victory tour dresses. Someone – Effie, probably – has modified to make it look more wedding-appropriate. Her hair is flowing and loose, and she clutches some flowers. But it's the beaming smile, the utter happiness on her face that really makes her light up. And Finnick, peacock and preener that he is, is even more captivated by it than the general public. For once, he's not the center of attention, and Haymitch is sure he couldn't be more pleased about it.
The ceremony is simple and heartfelt. Afterwards, there's cake (Peeta really did a good job), and dancing, not like the formal waltzes in the Capitol, but more boisterous. He sees Katniss dancing with her sister, and she flashes him a smile. He hasn't seen one of those from her in a while.
He hopes they're getting this on camera. Happy Mockingjay dancing and laughing, that's bound to make Snow's blood boil…
"It's good to see her smile, isn't it?"
Effie's voice seems to come out of nowhere. "It is," he admits, his eyes still on Katniss, and then he turns. "So where have you …."
Well damn.
Effie is … not in a gray jumpsuit. She is also not in one of her ridiculous Capitol outfits. She's … she's somewhere in between, he can't quite describe it. He dress is pink and a little frilly, but not excessively so. Her face isn't powered white; he's sure there's some makeup, but her natural skin tone is there, shining through. And then …
And then, there's her hair.
Her real, actual hair.
No wig, no scarf. Damn it if he doesn't actually feel himself start to get red in the face. It's like seeing her naked, or something …
Her hair is blonde, as he imagined it to be. It's thick and wavy and framing her face and he cannot fathom why she felt the need to always keep it hidden under those garish wigs…
He has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out and touching it.
Effie clears her throat self-consciously, and pats her hair.
"You look nice, Haymitch."
Silence.
"You know, it's rude to stare."
It takes him a minute to find his voice. "Well you know, I was just thinking … Boggs owes me ten credits. He was sure you were bald."
Effie laughs and hits him, and he feels like he's starting to recover his balance.
"Unless of course, that's a wig too?"
"No, it's real." She hits him again, playfully.
"So what made you decide to...?"
"Oh, just an old piece of advice I haven't followed until now." From Cinna, probably.
"Well, it looks … you look … fine."
She raises an eyebrow at him and he works hard to keep his face straight. "Fine?"
"Yes, fine."
She purses her lips.
"Nice?" He offers.
When she starts to walk away from him, he catches her arm.
"You look beautiful, Effie. You … look, you know you're gorgeous all right? Stop fishing."
There's no layers of makeup to cover her blush.
"Thank you," she mutters, always one to remember her manners. They stand there, always, his hand still on her arm.
He needs a drink. He can't handle this sober. Effie, too close to him and smiling and blushing and looking like this. It's ridiculous, he's too old and too lost and too bitter to feel…
"You wanna dance?"
"Yes," she answers before he's quite finished asking.
So they dance, in a foolish, haphazard sort of way. Faces whirl by, the happy couple, Kantiss twirling her sister, and he gets that sort of feeling he used to get when he was just pleasantly buzzed and his energy was still high.
Afterwards, they sit and talk for a bit.
"That was …"
"Fabulous?" He teases gently, and she gives him a knowing smile. He's never given Effie enough credit for knowing when he's poking fun at her.
"Exactly. And it was good to see Katniss smile."
"Yeah, it was."
Her expression grows more serious. "Speaking of which, any news on Peeta? I heard he made the cake for the wedding. That has to be a good sign, doesn't it?"
The hopeful tone in her voice is not something he wants to be responsible for crushing, but he's not going to lie. "I don't know, Effie. Sometimes I really feel like they don't know what they're doing, and they just say things to make us feel better."
"Well, Plutarch said it was new terrain." He can tell she's working hard to keep her tone upbeat.
"Reverse high-jacking … I don't think it's even been done before."
"Well, neither has a successful revolution in Panem. Any yet, here we are. Are you telling me we should lose hope just because no one's done it yet?"
He turns to look at her then. Her gaze is clear-eyed and determined. She's changed, she really has. Or perhaps it's just her true self that's been unleashed. In any case, it's more than just the clothes and the lack of make-up and the bare head. He always knew there was intelligence behind her silly chatter, he always knew there was compassion behind her smiles at the reaping, and he always knew there was strength behind her delicate sensibilities. He just hasn't let himself fully see or acknowledge it until now.
Her eyes search his. "What?"
"I think … you make a good point, Effie."
He reaches for her hand, squeezes it. She squeezes back.
It takes them a minute to realize they're practically the only ones left in the hall.
"Well, I guess the party's over."
"Hmm," Effie says. She looks at him thoughtfully. "Haymitch?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you … walk me back to my quarters?"
He clears his throat. "Yeah sure okay."
They walk in silence until they reach her room.
"Well," Effie says, too loudly and brightly. "Here we are." She turns to him. "Thank you for the dance. It was very polite of you. I know would probably have rather not have …"
"Well you know, it was … tolerable."
That knowing smile. Infuriating. And this infuriating woman could break him, with just with a smile.
"Well," she pauses, and then, as if working up her nerve, leans in and plants a kiss at the corner of his mouth, so quickly he has no time to react.
"Goodnight Haymitch," she whispers, turning quickly, and he's so dazed that's she got the door halfway closed before he stops her.
"Effie –"
When she turns, he kisses her full on the mouth, tangling his fingers in her hair at last.
He remembers when they kissed before, when he was drunk on the train and she was a bundle of nerves. This kiss isn't like that kiss, clouded by alcohol, against his better judgement. There are no barriers between them anymore, no reasons he can find to push the feelings down and try to hate her, and when she moans into his mouth, he pushes them past the door and into her room.
And all he can think is finally.
"Haymitch," she breathes, his name both a plea and a demand on her lips. "Haymitch, Haymitch, Haymithch."
For once, Effie has little else to say, just soft sweet sighs and gasps and moans as they uncover each other. She's so damn beautiful, all of her, every part of her, he wants to take his time, but he want to take her now…
And when they are joined, she clutches him to her and cries out like she will never let him go.
Afterwards, they lay side by side, catching their breath. When Effie curls into him, his arms go around her automatically.
"Okay, so … that happened."
Effie giggles. "It certainly did."
"I've wanted to do that for a long time."
"Me too."
He looks at her. "Really?"
She shakes her head. "Oh come, that can't surprise you."
"Well, there was that night on the train."
She bites her lip. "I didn't think you remembered that."
"Oh, I remembered all right. It just seemed … impolite … to bring it up." He grins at her embarrassed look. "I did kind of wonder though…"
"What?"
"Why you didn't stay."
She looks away from him then, takes a deep breath. "Because I didn't want you … like that." She mutters. "When you were drunk and angry and looking for a distraction and any girl would have done. I wanted … to matter." She dares to look at him then. "I wanted to matter to you."
He feels his heart thud painfully in his chest. For so long, for so many years, he's avoided… entanglements. Avoided getting his life mixed up with someone else's, kept himself isolated, kept himself drunk, kept himself away from things like…
"You matter, Effie. You mattered then, and you matter even more now. You matter to me … a lot."
She smiles at him. "Good," she says and kisses him. "You matter to me too."
And she nuzzles his chest and settles in for sleep, content. She does not press him for anything else.
Effie has always been smarter than he's given her credit for. She won't ask for the declarations that he's still too scared to make.
Oh, but if he were to lose her now…
His grip on her tightens. "I'm right here," she murmurs, as if reading his mind. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."
"You better not," he whispers, as they lie there together, a tangle of limbs, and his grip on her does not loosen, even when he finally falls asleep.