Chapter 5
A/N: I wrote this story in a holiday years ago and while stretching though old documents, it turned up. I still don't know why I published it. I have not Beta'd it and it isn't entirely finished either - just as a pre-warning.
Effie pushed through the crowds of the subway network, holding her arms out like antennas to create personal space. She was quiet swear of the fact that she looked utterly ridiculous in her runway clothes. Capitol fashion was one thing, but Capitol fashion directly from the runways was another all together. There stares were potent and everywhere, but a larger part of Effie simply did not have the energy to care anymore, as it had been such a long, terrible day.
Makaria had finally sacked her. To tell the truth, Effie was surprised it had taken so long. Most models only lasted four or five years. She had spent more than half her life working for Makaria's brand, and she finally had the good sense to let Effie go, because it had been too long.
She often wandered how designers managed to stay in the fashion industry for so long. If she thought of the greying women still stitching at the back of the studio… Well she supposed they had come there by choice.
Ten years of runway was enough for Effie. She had first arrived when she was only fourteen. Too young to understand anything about business and too old to not care about why Makaria had chosen her. For her perfect body. For her perfect proportions.
A common misconception of the fashion industry was that it was about beauty. Yes, the gowns and the make up was surely beautiful, but the models were not. The agents had made that very clear when Effie first arrived. She was there not for her beauty, but for her proportions. The distance between the tip of her nose and her forehead; the gap between her waist and her loose hanging arms; Effie's height and her posture. That's was why she was there: for winning the genetic lottery of Capitol-approved hip size and eye colour.
And like beauty, proportions had their way of deteriorating. Makaria sacked Effie because she had run out of excuses to keep the girls's body in her photo shoots. Effie was so enclosed in the fashion industry, that she hardly knew something outside of it existed. So after an unnecessary argument, she was pushed out the doors and onto the street - still in full costume. That was a tradition in the fashion industry. No matter how long a model served a designer, or for what reason he or she left, they left in full costume. Make up, wigs, stilettos… the works.
When she finally pushed through the crowd, she found her 5:15 train disappearing around the corner. All that rushing and shoving for nothing. Although Effie's legs ached, she leaned against a wall. Sitting would most certainly tear her dress, which was made of cellophane.
Effie would later conclude that it was almost destiny he arrived that day. She would not have predicted what a profound impact the man would have on her life, or the friendship they would share. Especially when the seemly ordinary man in a grey suit walked past her on the platform.
It was dead obvious he was in the same business as her. Perhaps not a model, but defiantly a stylist. His suit had just the correct cuts to be considered trendy and not old fashioned. He wore his hair up, but not overstated like some other stylists. When he stood close by, she noticed triplet copper rings on his fingers that looked rather pricey. Perhaps he was a designer, not a stylist.
"Deleeg or Makaria?" he asked.
He was looking at her clothes, which meant he was looking at her outdated proportions. This man knew her position exactly and it made her irritable. Effie looked away, quiet angry. She thought she left questions like that behind once they kicked her out the studio, but it looked like the designers just couldn't get enough or her.
"Makaria." she answered.
"July?"
"August range." she corrected, although she was impressed by the stranger's knowledge of the brand.
"I recognise you." he said, smiling slightly, "You wore her March line as well. The one inspired by origami."
"That is right." Effie said, "You seem… informed."
"I just keep my eyes open." he said, "The competition is harsh."
So he was a designer, Effie concluded. She thought that she recognised him now. A intern of a few years prior… or had she seen him at a party?
"You should not worry about Makaria as competition. She will be shutting down soon." She says, surprised by her own words.
He raises his eyebrows.
"Insufficient funds." she states plainly, enjoying being free of loyalty to a particular brand.
"That is a shame." he says, "I was looking forward to her usual 'October Blues'."
Effie laughs at this. She couldn't even remember how many violet outfits Makaria had made Effie put on in her life. All sorts over the years. From the elaborate furry coats to the lizard scales of the previous year. The only common theme being the colours blue, purple and an odd wine-like colour Makaria named despair. 'October Blues' was Malaria's only annual range. According to Makaria herself the start of the winter was so overbearing that she had to express her melancholy in some or other way. Effie chuckled. It almost made her long for another despair-coloured cocktail dress.
The train eventually comes and the man helps Effie up by her arms onto the carriage. She thanks him for his manners. Not all of the seats are filled by other passengers on the train, but the man continues to stand with Effie. She thanks him again.
"So I take it you want to start your own clothing line?"
"That is correct." The man said, "It will be called 'Chiaroscuro'. That is if it ever happens."
Effie smiles at this. She hadn't heard of a stylist who doesn't use their own name for branding in a while.
"Where did you study?"
"I am self taught." he says, which surprises Effie. "I've done internships mostly to get exposure."
"And did they work?"
"I have a few investors." he says vaguely, "It's all about the product few me. Food on the table is a benefit. I had my first proper exposure last year. The 44th Hunger Games."
That is when Effie clicks and remembers where she saw him before. He was the costume designer for the previous year's parade. Was it District Eleven? She did not remember exactly, except that his dresses had been fabulous, or so Caesar Flickerman said.
"Right! Now I know where I know you from. The Hunger Games." Effie exclaims, "Look at you, you're making your mark." she says, the slightest trace of melancholy.
He looks at her legs and she shuffles uncomfortably. Those knees had been the first sign Effie's proportions going south. Then it had been her breasts, and Makaria lost it when her first signs of wrinkles appeared. Then she kicked Effie out and now her life was a disaster. No place to live, no real money that would last and no job.
Most models go on the be designers if they're lucky, or stylists if they are slightly less. Effie, who was never interested in the producing clothes herself, was at a lost. Of course there were those models who had some sort of back up plan. A degree or a position waiting for them in an office somewhere. Effie had started her modelling so early that she did not have the time to finish school, never mind study something afterwards. Now she was in the position of being gloriously unqualified and poor. She had no idea what career to pursue next.
"What is your name?"
"Effie Trinket."
"Effie Trinket. That sounds poetic. Almost like an opera."
"Thank you." she said appreciatively, "What can I call you?"
He grinned, but didn't seem to listen to her question. Instead, the man pushed her arms out, arranging her like she was a manikin. Effie supposed that she should have been more uncomfortable with a stranger touching her, but she was so used people doing it in modelling.
"Can you talk again?"
Effie was surprised at his odd question.
"Tell me about your day." he prompted. She considered shoving his hands away, but she didn't. She saw an underlying sense of trust warm brown eyes.
"Well if I am going to be honest with you, it has been rather terrible."
He smiled at her perplexed frown.
"I found you."
For a wild moment, Effie thinks he is talking about his brand and modelling. Maybe the stranger saw something in her obscure proportions that Makaria dismissed.
"You intrigue me." he says simply, "And I like your voice. I think I like you and I think we are going to get along quiet well."
She was confused.
"I was given a task by Fillius Strikerland."
And then the man did not have to explain further, because Effie knew what how he would change her life. Fillius Strikerland was a Gamemaker.
"I will recommend your name at my next Hunger Games meeting. I can't guarantee anything, but- "
"You think I can make a good escort?"
"I like the look of you and you intrigue me, so I'm sure you'll intrigue Panem."
This stuns Effie. She had heard of models who became escorts. A handpicked few who could go study at a finishing school of sorts and then be assigned into a District. Of course, only selected people even got the honour of picking suitable escorts. She had only heard of this like this happening in plays. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and it was coming from a complete stranger. She shook her head, thinking how it was all a dream.
"This is my stop." the man says, and Effie realises how quiet she had gone.
"Wait!"
He turns back.
"Thank you." she whispers, grabbing his hand. She wondered how she could emphasise how grateful she was.
"Effie Trinket, top Capitol model and future escort of the Hunger Games." he announces, "Don't worry, I'll find you."
"This isn't real."
She matches his grin. He disembarks from the train, staring into her eyes with promise. Promise Effie didn't know she deserved. The doors shut.
Quiet panicked, Effie shouts: "But I don't know your name!"
"Cinna!" he cries. She watches his form float away from the train's window.
Then the Effie wakes up with a jump. She sits up, her mind temporarily adjusting between fantasy and fiction, eyes fuzzy and unfocused in the morning light. Although that had not been a fantasy - it was a memory. A memory which Effie often doubted was a real event that occurred at times. She checked her bedside table just in case, seeing her pink skirt she had worn as District Twelve's escort. Real. Defiantly real.
She rolled over into the duvet of her bed, still imagining that ride on the train. A spike of guilt rose in her chest. She hadn't through of Cinna in a long while. She allows herself to get lost in happy thoughts of him, before abruptly remaining herself that he had died.
She sat up, heart pounding, doubting everything for a minute. With a glance in the small mirror on the wall, she looked for reassurance in her reflection.
Cinna was not alive anymore.Yes. President Snow sent the peacekeepers to kill Cinna. Yes. She was not Effie Trinket the escort anymore, because the rebellion was still happening. Double yes. She was still living amongst the cave dwellers. Sigh.
Effie dragged herself out of bed and pulled on the disgusting grey robes. She stuck her hand in the wall and got a new purple inked schedule for the day. Gazing down at it depressively, she noticed that they at least had the decency to give her breakfast that time.
"My Effie! Where on earth were you-" started a concerned Daisy, "What happened?"
"They sacked me." she stated. Perhaps that was why she had had that dream.
"They what?" Sae asked.
"Coin kicked me off of the team. I'm a farmer now."
She heard a clatter Greasy Sae violently plunged a serving of sludge onto a plate. That day the colour was Payne's grey, and apparently it was cooked with sprouts.
"What?" came Sae's protest, "They can't just do that!"
Daisy had her hands folded in concern as Greasy Sae ranted on at length, just as Effie hoped she would.
x
Effie's first week of not being in Mockingjay One comprised almost entirely of Structure. After her first day sitting around because she had no real training in any of the activities, she was forced to attend lectures all day long.
A horrible feel of exclusion floated around Effie wherever she went. The District Thirteen citizens, and even the refugees from other places, were friendly until she opened her mouth. When they heard her accent they shut her off, whether they intended to or not.
More disappointing than the districts refusing to talk to her, was the fact that she was so in there dark with Katniss's whereabouts. She never noticed just how selective Coin's propo was until she was just a normal citizen. She hardly heard anything about Operation 'The Nut' or the war going on in two. There was more news from Caesar Flickerman each night than there was from Kantiss, and most of the Katniss propos were repeats she recognised from Cressida's tablet months ago.
Being off the team meant she never got to see anyone from Mockingly One. Her schedules did not match any of the stylists and almost the whole team was in District Two. It was fine to spend her free time in the company of Daisy and Sae, but Effie longed for a conversation with Octavia. The other Capitol refugees were the ones who came closest to understanding what she was going through, and they were the only ones she could discuss home with.
If Haymitch remained behind in District Thirteen she did not see him. Coin had almost her entire population leaving for the war in District Two. Suddenly the cafeteria stood only half-full at breakfast, and there were showers open when Effie wanted to wash. There was a define need for people doing ordinary jobs around the sinkhole.
Effie would discover the Structure lectures to not all be completely dead boring. Of course some of the classes were like lullabies - spoken by soft voices about topics that made her doze off. Others talks kept Effie on the edge of her seat.
Politics was the one that she enjoyed the most. An ex-peecekeeper now rebellion soldier woman gave daily lessons about the history of the revolution, and what happened before it. Effie had never questioned anything further than the Capitol textbooks, which turned out to be complete rubbish anyway. She learnt more from the five Structure lessons she had had in her eleven years of history at school. The lecturer - Donatello - said that she should not trust anything she learnt in the past, especially if it was from the Capitol.
Effie was angry the first time she proposed this. The thought of it was absurd. Her whole head's content - almost all her understanding of the world - came from the Capitol. It was arrogant for the woman to brush aside her entire world view.
But then she explained to her that she grew up in a world of propaganda. Effie knew the media from her home was a bit subjective to Snow's side, but not to what extent. The woman showed flaws in story books; early versions of the Hunger Games with obvious plot twists made to suit Snow. Even some television shows she had watched as a little girl was pure propaganda, and it was a nightmare. Effie realised that her whole world had been fake. Everything she had learnt - the supposed ear of peace they lived in, the 'stable' economy the Capitol controlled…
Every night Effie explained the lectures to Daisy and Greasy Sae. They were non-judgemental listeners, who were surprised by how stunningly little she knew about the rebellion.
"You didn't know about the riots in Eleven?" Daisy asked doubtfully.
"I didn't know know about any riots!" Effie exclaimed. "The Capitol news said nothing. The only thing questionable on the television was the truthfulness of Finnick Odair's affairs."
"I don't believe you." Sae said, but not in a harsh way, "You were involved with the districts. You came to Twelve once a year. You could have see the tension."
"Katniss was oblivious to the riots too." Effie said, and after a few moments of silence. Sae stared at her with her head crooked, a deep scorn on her battered face. It made Effie shudder. "I am just trying to progress the fact that everything that I've ever been taught is a lie."
Greasy Sae shook her head. "You only saw what you wanted to see."
"I only saw the little information I was given." Effie retaliated, a bit disgusted by the condescending tone in Sae's voice, but more and more worried about losing the little trust the woman had in her.
"Don't stress, sugar." Daisy assured her, "I understand."
Of course not all of Structure was enjoyable. There was an old man who had enthusiasm that could give Beetee a run for his money. The only issue was that the man's enthusiasm was for laundry detergents and different alkaline solutions to best clean clothes. Effie couldn't stand his class.
Then there was farming, in which the guy actually went through the process of how photosynthesis works underground with specialised UV lights. It would be interesting if he did not go into such immaculate scientific detail. Effie rolled her eyes, but she noticed the way some of the district refugees paid attention to the class. Some even from farming districts like Eleven and Nine, yet they acted like it was all new to them. Effie wondered if it was news to them. Had they not been taught this in school?
A similar thing happened when the lecturer explained the nuclear power plant on Level 37. He went into the process of atoms splitting with their neutrons… something to do with fission… Effie was not really paying attention, not wanting to relive her early days of boredom in high school. But the district people were. Effie wondered how much they really learnt at school, and felt very privileged all of a sudden for knowing what things like phrases and clauses were and Pythagorus was.
She thought to herself that the Politics class was wrong. Perhaps not all the media she had ever taken in had been brainwashing propaganda. She knew more about how the physical world around her worked than any of the district refugees. For the first time she felt grateful for an education she always considered a burden.
x
After one whole week not talking to anyone from Mockingjay One, she runs into Haymitch.
"What are you doing here?" she enquired. They were on Level 31 - Effie's level. Haymitch would have no reason to be there.
"I was looking for you." he said simply. Haymitch looked over his shoulder and Effie became very aware of the rigid grey soldier standing in the corridor. "Can we talk - um - more privately?"
She pulled him by the arm in through a door - her compartment door - and closed it behind them.
Haymitch leaned back onto a table uncomfortably, finding his palms on Effie's old wig. He stared at it for a while, trying to see it on the plain-faced Effie in front of him now.
She cleared her throat.
"Right. Um- I am going to District Two in an hour."
"Whatever for?" she asked, finding an explanation for the army bag slung over his shoulders.
"Coin wants me there to prep Katniss before we attack."
The word attack rung through her head. Effie looked concerned. She tried to picture Haymitch Abernathy around a table of Coin's military hunks, but the image never fit.
"Is that really necessary?" she asks, "Can't you talk to her through the earpiece?"
"Our darling Mockingjay threw it down the side of a cliff." he states drenched in annoyance, "Also. I don't really have a choice. She wants me there in person." He looked solemn. "Something to do with Gale too, apparently."
"This is a problem." she stated after a while.
"What is?"
"Coin."
He glances at her. She half expected the judgemental stare he gave during the night of Snow's fireworks. Instead, he sighs deeply.
"I don't know why she made you leave."
He crossed his arms over his chest. He did not have to say that, and Effie was appreciative that he did.
"I tried to talk to Plutarch about it. He went all quiet." Haymitch looked puzzled.
"I reckon it's because I antagonised her during the last meeting."
"Antagonised." he scoffed.
"Yes, antagonised! She downright hates me. Did you see the stare?"
"You were just saying what we all were thinking." Haymitch says, "Don't worry too much. I'll get Katniss to whisper pretty things into Coin's ear and you'll be back in no time."
Effie brightens. She had not considered that yet. All Katniss had to do was say the word and she could scrap the whole farming business.
"Thank you." she says, no knowing how to make it sound meaningful. She said it so often.
"It would be my pleasure." he said. Perhaps that was the one benefit of having no manners at all. Once you pulled out the odd phrase, it really stuck.
Effie smiled, and opened the door for him.
"When will you be… attacking?" Effie asked, not sure if she was speaking in the correct military jargon.
"Not sure." he answered, "But it can't be long if they want me there before 11."
He raised a hand in salute, still not at all looking like a soldier, and bobbled off down the corridor.
"Haymitch." she calls back, knowing that her next words will sound foolish. She says them regardless. "Come back, will you."
"What else would you expect from me, princess?" he smiles over his shoulder.
She watches him stride down the length of the passage, wondering if it was the last time she'd see the sight. She shakes her head. It wasn't like Haymitch was going into combat or anything. He would be back soon with Katniss by his side.
She last thing she notices is a hard rectangular block in his back pocket. She wonders briefly why he had not put the object inside his bag if it was so bulky, but then he is gone.
x
One morning the ink on Effie's arm does not have instructions for Structure. Instead, there is the finely printed lettering of Trainee Micro Farming Level 35C. Effie speed walks up a few levels, almost excited to not be sitting around all day.
She meets a farmer man from District Eleven, who takes her deep underground to the agricultural sector of District Thirteen. Daisy explained to Effie that she once did farming as a young woman, and that it was by that the most enjoyable assigned duty, after catering of course. As much as Daisy enthused, Effie struggled to see the joy in the concept, until she was there herself.
The first thing she noticed was that micro farms were great deal warmer than the other levels. Second, is that they weren't quiet levels at all. The ceilings were high and constructed out of slick brown stone. It was like being in a cave with natural bends and curves, except the expanse of the room was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of square planters.
The thing that intrigued Effie most about the cavern were the lights. In-between static tights of the cave ceiling were Florissant light bulbs. They painted the cabin a purple colour, making everything that appeared grey and concrete as something else.
"The UV lights that the plants absorb for energy." the man explained to her. "They are the suns that makes it possible to grow food 250 meters below ground."
"The water comes from a natural reserve underground, and then runs through the pipes and into these sprayers."
The man looked at Effie, as if he needed a reply.
Effie smiled nervously, not quiet knowing what to say. She kneeled beside a planter of greens she could not identify. Gently, she ran her fingers up the fine stem of a seedling, feeling the soft white fuzz that cover it. The sensation reminded her of velvet.
"That's a tomato plant." the man said, "You don't do much farming in the Capitol?"
"Not exactly." she said, humouring herself in a mental image of a line of corn plants down Union Avenue. "It can't be that hard, can it?"
"Not in the slightest." he smiled.
Effie thought that the man belonged amongst the tomato plants. His eyes were the same colour as the fertile earth, and his skin punched from years of abuse from the sun. She looked at her own palms, seeing nothing of the sort. Only the pale fingers which were crying of from some moisturiser. They had never worked a day in their life.
"We'll find you a place here. Everyone does."
Effie had odd jobs during Micro Farming duty. No one quiet yet trusted Effie with her pink shoes and bangles to pick up a shovel. Instead she had to check the Ph levels of various planters, or count stock, but Effie did not mind. She liked the rustic feeling of the room and the happy-looking green plants. She really did not mind what stupid jobs they gave her, as long as it was not Laundry duty.
x
After her usual dinner with Daisy and Greasy Sae, Effie would climb the stairs to shower, wait for her hair to dry, and then go and visit Peeta. She read his medical journal each day, as well as getting updates from Prim, who was now working alongside a phycologist to try and fix the boy. Despite the efforts, his condition getting more intense each time she visited.
Effie caught him sometimes when he sat still on his bed, looking like a human being lost in thought. But more often than not, he would mumble to himself in agitation, hitting his hands on the pillow - more like a mutt.
Prim said that a slow adjustment to reality would do the trick with Peeta. He had to introduced to what his life had been, but in small dosages over a long period of time. The doctor recommended tokens, physical objects, photographs, smells - anything non-Katniss related. Some days, Peeta would even speak to an old neighbour from District Twelve. It made Effie hope that Peeta would get good enough that he could meet Katniss again.
One particular night when Effie walked in to see Peeta she found him asleep. In the two weeks she had been visiting him, she had never seen this. She pulled a chair close to the glass to see him better.
She wished that she could go inside the room to properly pull his blanket over him. After all, this was the first time she was one hundred percent sure he was sleeping. Other times his eyes would be closed, but the mutt inside of him wouldn't be resting. On those occasions, his fingers would twitch erratically and the heart rate monitor would blink rapidly.
That night, however, she saw his fringe move up and down in the slow current of his breathing. The monitor beeped lazily, for intervals that seemed minutes apart. She took this time to relax, try to not think of herself; but just of Peeta.
And that is why the appearance of Johanna Mason nearly gave her a heart attack that night.
"Are you ever gonna talk to him?" she said, sharp and arrogant.
Effie fell off of the chair, feeling a terror bounce in her chest. She whipped around, not seeing where the voice originated from.
"Who's there?" she called feebly, struggling to her feet, scanning the room. She expected to see a monster or something. Effie picked up the medical file, holding it out for protection. She was ready to defend herself against whoever the voice belonged to, not even caring how little damage two pieces of cardboard with her twig-like arms would do.
A head emerged from the shadows. It reminded Effie of Peeta during his fist games, when her had revealed his disguise in the river to Katniss. Johanna appeared out of what had been nothing.
"Jesus, Trinket."
Effie got up properly, thinking her height could make her feel braver against the victor. It didn't. She knew it more than ever in that moment: Johanna Mason was taller than her, more built than her, and defiantly more intimidating that her.
The woman strode across to her, arms behind her back, back straight. The way she moved, with her hands concealed, made Effie think she was hiding something. Effie imagined that Johanna had an axe behind her back.
"Wha- what are you doing here?" she trembled.
"Same as you." she said casually, "Watching someone else so that you know you're not the most insane person you know."
Johanna sat on the table, hands on the ledge. Effie exhaled in relief because there was no axe.
"Didn't the Capitol teach you it's rude to stare?" Johanna snapped.
Effie blinked, only understanding Johanna's comment after thinking for a while. She was not wearing her hospital gown. Instead, there was grey pants, but that was where the clothing stopped.
"You like them?" she said, looking down at her bare chest, smirking like a mad woman. Effie ponders for a moment - Johanna probably was a mad woman.
"Come on, Trinket! Why are you so tense?"
"Because you startled me!" She yelped. "How long have you been watching me?"
"Why should you care? Is is creepy?" she jeered.
"Yes it is!"
Johanna looked down at the ground, and when she looked up, Effie didn't recognise what she saw.
"I- I am so sorry." Johanna murmured, "It was not my intention to do that. You see- I didn't realise…"
Effie was buying it for two whole seconds until she shrieked with laughter.
"So gullible!"
Effie's eyes narrowed. Johanna had taken it one step too far.
"You call me the rude one, when you conspire for days on end think how you can torment me! It's not even that it's rude, it is just mean. Despicable! Anyone decent would know that. I come here so I can have my ounce of peace for the day, and look what you've just done to it! I get that you want to live out your anger for President Snow something, but don't let it be me!"
Johanna smiled for a minute, and then walked up to her. She inspected Effie's face carefully, looking for what, Effie did not know. Then it was as if recognition registered with Johanna, and she put on another sad face. Effie couldn't tell if it was another lie, or if it was genuine guilt. She did not want to know.
Despite the pandemonium happening inside the observation room, Peeta still slept. The heart monitor beeped occasionally, reminding Effie why she was really there. She sat back down on the chair, watching him in an undisturbed concentration. She wanted Johanna to leave, so she could try and find her equilibrium again.
But that was not happening. Johanna sighed in an exaggerated moan. She laid back on the table, making a glass of water fall and shatter. She just watched the floor, now showered in sharp shards.
A third voice chanted through the room, making the two woman turn back. This time, it was a hologram turning on in the corner. Effie half-expected the Capitol badge and old Panem anthem to start playing. Instead, it was rebel interference of Capitol mandatory viewing. A far-off shot of a mountain appeared on the screen. Johanna and Effie watched it, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, a crashing sound fills the room and white clouds cover the mountain.
"This was the Capitol's central defence base." came a voice over of Katniss.
Effie watches as the clouds settle in the screen, deciding they must be snow on the side of the mountain that came down like avalanches.
"The rebellion has now claimed it."
"No shit." Johanna interrupts.
"That which you just saw was a den of wolves, bullies of the districts. For seventy-five years, that was the hornet's nest of the peacekeepers. Now, with the help of thirteen united districts, it is Snow's weapon no more!" Katniss booms.
The mountains look sealed shut under the snow, almost making Effie doubt there was a mountain in the first place.
"They got District Two!" Johanna cheers, but is cut off by the screen talking again.
"District Two is not yet the rebel's completely. All that is left to do is win over the support of the Capitol extremists inside the military base."
The voice was not Katniss's, which makes her unsure of the purpose of the propo was. The scene cuts to a dark train station. The lighting is faint in the shot, but Effie can make out the outline of a person. They turn, and she sees Katniss in full Mockingjay suit pride. Effie tenses.
"This is Katniss Everdeen speaking to all the loyalists from the heart of District Two."
Effie and Johanna watch as Katniss paces toward the oncoming train. Effie thinks that this footage is live because there are crackles and grey lines between her words. Cressida's editing would not have allowed that to happen.
"Hold your fire! Drop your guns!" comes a voice off screen.
There is an intervention, and Effie is not entirely sure what happens. The screen goes grey temporarily. When the pictures reappear, a man had Katniss pulled in next to him. Something about the man's body language screamed danger.
"Is that a gun?" Johanna says. Effie sees it then - a silver cylinder pressing into Katniss's neck.
"No!" Effie exclaimers to the room, although she knows it is useless. The man manoeuvres the weapon and girts his teeth.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you?"
The camera pans in on Katniss's grunting face. No answer comes. The only sound Effie is aware of is Peeta's monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep.
"That's it. She's gonna die." Johanna says, throwing her arms in the air. "She isn't brave anymore. She just downright stup-"
Effie hisses at Johanna to keep quiet. It was as if Johanna did not realise that it was reality on the screen and that Katniss could die any moment.
The man furrows at Katniss, but then she starts speaking. A low voice.
"I guess that's the problem, isn't it? We blew up your mine. You burned my district to the ground. We each have every reason to want to kill each other. So if you wanna kill me, do it. Make Snow happy. I'm tired of killing his slaves for him. I'm not his slave. We all are. That's why I killed Cato. And he killed Thresh. And Thresh killed Clove. It just goes around and around. And who wins? Always Snow.
"I am done being a piece in his game. District Twelve, District Two… We have no fight except the one the capitol gave us. Why are you fighting the rebels? You're neighbours. You're family. These people are not your enemy. We all have one enemy. And that's Snow. He corrupts everyone and everything. He turns the best of us against each other. Stop killing for him. Tonight, turn your weapons to the capitol! Turn your weapons to Snow!"
Effie sits motionless in her seat. She was entirely convinced and on Katniss's side. The was a low-burning pride in her chest, like Katniss had just spoken for her. The girl had finally not only spoken for the rebellion clause, but also for the peacekeepers, the loyalists, the people of the Capitol and what whatever Effie was. A misfit - a fence sitting political refugee.
The air is thick with pressure by the station where Katniss is, but also inside the mental ward. Effie expects the man to pull away and for all the loyalists to give in. In fact, majority of the people caught in Cressida's frame do. She salute the Mockingjay. However, the is a movement in the corner of the shot. Effie almost does't see it.
Then someone hauls: "HOLD YOU FIRE!"
But whoever had the gun does not obey the instruction. The sound of a single bullet echoes across the room, and it flies into Katniss's chest . She falls flat onto the pavement.
"Well that was anti-climactic." Johanna says.Chapter 6
Everything went a little chaotic after that.
The hologram turned off. Johanna and Effie sat watching looking at a black wall for a few moments, the imprint of a dead Katniss still fresh in their minds.
Effie stuck her head out the door. It was very late at night, as far as she could tell and she wondered if anyone else saw the broadcast. But hospitals never sleep. Effie saw nurses and doctors staring open-mouthed at a dying screen.
Effie knew that if that was live footage, a hovercraft was going to be here soon with Katniss. She shifted through the hospital, trying to make it past doctors who were locked at replays on the screen.
Again and again and again she heard the shot that killed Katniss. She wondered if it was Beetee's error in programming, or someone on the Capitol's side having fun.
She wondered what it was about human nature that made everyone so attracted to violence. The people in the hospital stood in stock, not tearing their eyes from the screen. She did not blame them. It was ridiculously hard not to watch.
There Katniss stood, tall and brave. A gun fired and it hit her chest. She was knocked out a few meters back. She hit the floor. The screen went black…
And there she stood once again, in a perfect moment. Perfectly fearless. Almost graceful in Cinna's Mockingjay outfit…
"Cinna's outfit." Effie whispered to herself. Wasn't the Mockingjay outfit bulletproof? Relief swam through her veins.
"Well who's gonna be the face of revolution now?" a nurse said, clamping to a clipboard.
"What about Peeta?" another said.
"Better not be Peeta. He was useless even before he was a mutt." commented Johanna.
Johanna was following Effie through the hospital, still topless. Heads turned toward her and blushed away in shame.
"WHO THE HELL IS GONNA LEAD THE REVOLUTION NOW?" Johanna thundered.
"Put on a shirt, would you?" Effie throw a few hospital gowns at her.
"Why are you so cheerful, Trinket?" Johanna looked disgusted.
"Because she's not dead!" Johanna looked at her as if she was idiotic. They just saw Katniss get shot in the chest. Multiple times.
But Effie was almost certain. From far away Effie could make out cheers and shouting. No one would be cheering if the Mockingjay was dead. Effie galloped through the mental ward to the hospital entrance. As timing would have it, Boggs ran in with a stretcher. There was Katniss, looking very beaten up, but alive no less.
"Effie?" she croaked.
"Oh, my girl!" Effie rushed, wanting to check that Katniss was fine, but Boggs pushed her further down a hall.
"Oh… she is alive!" Effie smiled, "What did I tell you?" she turned to Johanna, "Bulletproof chest plate!"
"Yeah yeah yeah you're a genius, Trinket." Johanna cooed. Her attention was still on the stretcher, which disappeared into a room.
The next to burst through the door was Coin herself, looking hot and flushed from running. Her annoyed gaze shifted from Effie to the door and then she speed walked after Boggs. Fulvia dragged behind her, muttering all sorts of instructions under her breath.
Gale come next, directing a few injured soldiers through a door. He greeted Effie, but understandably looked distracted. A stampede of officials followed, looking lost without Coin nearby. Almost indecipherable from the crowd was a man in a tatty grey jumpsuit and black beanie.
"Haymitch!" she called.
He stuck his head up like a meerkat, hurrying towards Effie. "Where is she?" he mumbled, head darting round the room.
"Calm down, Haymitch."
"WHERE IS SHE?" he cried. His shoulders were tense and he was breathing heavily.
"Haymitch, she is alive." she instructed him sternly, "Boggs took her to the emergency room."
"I want to go-"
"You can't. Coin is in there with the doctors. Let them do their work. You will only be in the way."
"But-"
"Cinna made her a bulletproof vest, remember?" She said softly, "She isn't dead. She even said hello to me when she came past."
"I know she's not dead, Effie! I want to see her for myself." he snapped. It reminded her of the times he used to drink after both their tributes died in the arena. He certainly had the same fury in his eyes, but also something else. His anger seemed to evaporate, and he looked guilty for lashing out.
She could not quiet place his expression at that moment. Haymitch swallowed down some emotion. He was tense. Effie thought that he would cry. Instead, he nodded his head.
"She is okay."
"She is fine." Effie agreed.
"Such an idiot, that girl." Haymitch mumbled, "I told her she must try be gentle, understand the loyalists…"
"You did what you can, Haymitch." Effie said, feeling oddly anchored by trying to convince him of things he already knew. "You did what you could. She never listens to anyone. It is hardly your fault."
Johanna watched the exchange in front of her with interest. Haymitch's hands were trembling, and he was doing a hideous job at ignoring them. Johanna thought Effie would try to comfort him or something, judging by the way she was staring at him. But instead the woman just stood there, her blue eyes starting to tear up.
"Hey, Haymitch." Johanna interrupted. She snatched his beanie off of his head. "Can I lend this?"
"Oh hello Johanna." he greeted.
She pulled the beanie over her ears, smirking widely at him. A hint of her old seductive self somewhere in eyes.
"I told you to put clothes on." Effie pronounced.
Johanna pulled a face, "But I thought you liked them, Trinket?" She was back to her innocent little girl voice. Haymitch looked amused.
"It is rude to be nude in public! Did they not teach you that in District Seven?"
Effie dragged the girl the the nearest closed door. Haymitch shook his head. Once a nagging escort, always a nagging escort.
x
President Alma Coin stood tall in front of the board room, pen in hand staring at the map of Panem intently. The entire map was coloured in blue, except for the smallest portion of red near the coast. The Capitol.
"Our forces are not yet sufficient enough. We need more men if we're going to attack."
"That can easily be arrange, ma'am. We only need time." An official said.
"Time? We do not have time. Every minute we waste back here, the Capitol gets stronger."
"Stronger with what? We have all their nukes. All their hovercrafts." Gale said.
"That is true, but the Capitol will have their own stock from within." Beetee reminded him, "Including the mutation technology we do not have access to. There might be other surprises too."
"Like what?"
"Secret forces no one knows about. Say, some of the tech they used in the Hunger Games."
Plutarch nods, "They have access to over 1000 pods."
Coin eyed the dot on the map. She watched it intently, eventually zooming in onto the map. The room watched how a 3D hologram of the city appeared on the table before them.
Haymitch remembered the very first time he saw the Capitol. He was in the train, Maysilee pointing out of the open window. The tallest skyscrapers and towers boarders with great green and blue trees. The city was a character on its own, smiling in the artificial sunlight on the map. A handsome sight.
No one in the room wanted to turn it into a battlefield. If Haymitch felt resentful to tear down a sight like this before him, how how people like Plutarch feel? Or Effie? That was their home.
"What would you do, Heavensbee?" Coin asked, staring sternly at the centre of the map. A flat rectangle. Snow's mansion.
Plutarch hesitates, "I would send the citizens packing. Snow would want protection so…pods throughout the city. Everywhere."
"But is that wise of them?" Coin asked.
"Do not underestimate those pods, ma'am. They are lethal." A look of nostalgia is present on Plutarch's face. "Snow also still has a peacekeeper army on his side. As Beetee said, we are not sure of secret nuclear plans, secret defences. Even if we allow our army to grow for a few more months, we would be inferior."
"What is to say Snow won't fly away? Leave the country to some hideout without our knwoledge? Then we'd infiltrate the Capitol and just be killed for no reason."
"He wouldn't do that. Snow is not a coward." Plutarch said. There is a whisper in the room. Plutarch was the only one why knew the enemy personally.
Coin looked deep in thought. "We put 100% of our focus on military." she proposed. "Not only here, but in the Districts. When we have a decently-sized army, we attack, from the edges inwards."
The officials chant in agreement.
"That is good, but we have to be quick." Plutarch adds.
"I agree. We have to act faster than we imagine. The longer we wait, the bigger our disadvantage."
"How long do you propose, Beetee?
"No more than a month."
"Three weeks." Plutarch pushes.
"Three weeks for an army the size of 20 000 troops? We cannot possibly train anyone in three weeks."
"But they have been training throughout the year." Coin says, "At least most of the refugees in Thirteen has. Can pass with 15 000?"
Beetee looks around the room to the other officials. "Maybe." he says.
"12 000?"
"I say at least 17 000. The 12 000 we have here, as well as the trainees in Ten and Eleven."
"I say we extend the time frame by a few days, ma'am. Out troops in Eleven need three weeks at the most."
"What about two weeks?" Coin suggests.
"I don't know." A grey commander says, "Three weeks is the bare minimum soldiers need, but we also need time to come up with a proper attacking strategy."
"Can it be pushed to two weeks?" Coin insists.
Everyone is fixed on the little mason on the map, ringed by the most impressive structures. Coin had never been inside the big city. Haymitch thought that she perhaps misunderstood the scale of the place, or the size of Snow's private peacekeeper army.
The collection of commanders shuffle nervously around the table, muttering amongst each other.
Plutach is the one to speak up: "Yes, okay. Fine. Two weeks would be sufficient, but if an extension is needed, we will need it. I do not want to go in here blind."
"We won't." Coin says, "Beetee will get us eyes and ears. If they plan something, we will know about it."
"Yes, ma'am." Beetee nods so hard, he has to adjusts his glasses.
Haymitch could tell the meeting was almost over. Now Coin would just brief everyone individually, and they could go to dinner.
"Mockingjay One." she starts at the top of her list. A portion of the room stirs. "Is Miss Everdeen awake yet?"
"Sleeping beauty opened her eyes yesterday." Haymitch announces, "Almost on her feet. Doctors say she'll be able to rant in front of a camera in no time."
This breaks the room into a giggle.
"We'll have to keep that one off the battlefield." Plutarch says, "No place for bows in a war against Snow."
"Except when she executes him eventually." Haymitch adds.
Even Coin manages to smile at that. She scans her list further. "What about your propaganda, Cressida?"
"I wanted to talk to you about that, actually." Cressida stands up. "In this two week 'grace-period', Plutarch and I thought we could continue airing the victor videos. We can show footage of our troops preparing here in Thirteen. Get the districts buzzing, you know. But I also thought of something else…"
Cressida gestures to the doorway of the room, where Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta stand hand in hand. Haymitch had not seen them lurking there.
"Good afternoon, all." Finnick greets, "I came here to ask a favour, madam President. We, Annie and I, want to get married."
The strictness of the military lecture a few minutes back is greatly contrasted by the reaction that follows.
"A wedding!" Octavia rejoices.
"A real life wedding?" The stylists were buzzing.
"With a dress and a cake and-"
"A wedding in Thirteen?" Fulvia questions, but then answers her own question as to why. "Oh, because you want to use it as propo."
"That's right." Cressida smiles.
"This is marvellous!"
"A wedding as propo?" one of the grey officers spat. "Please!"
"Hold your horses, Commander Gonzalez. I think this could send a very strong message out to the districts. If Finnick and Annie can be aired live, we could show the Capitol that we are not afraid of a war against them. In fact, we are preparing for the long life that awaits us all after Snow is gone."
"It would paint Thirteen as something a little more personal." Plutarch adds carefully, "We can bring in traditions from all the districts. Create a sense of unification."
"A celebration of love and of friendship amongst the people of the rebellion." Finnick grins a wide smile, putting an arm around Annie.
"Will there be dancing? Oh there will be dancing, won't there Cressida? I haven't been to a party in ages."
"I am sure we can arrange something." Plutarch winks.
"And what about her dress-"
"Excuse me." Coin clears her throat. As the whole room was bantering away about decorations, the other end of the table was dead. The grey uniformed officials looked at the stylists as if they were speaking a different language. "What do you mean a dress?"
The stylists stared at Coin.
"A wedding dress?"
Coin and her officials looked repelled against the idea.
"A wedding dress?" Coin repeats.
Then Haymitch understands. To Coin, marriage must be nothing more than signing a document of sorts and moving into a new compartment. What everyone else had in mind was something different entirely.
Plutarch volunteers to oppose Coin. "I think it would be a good idea to show a lighthearted side to the rebellion. Perhaps the inclusion of a tradition from each district is not a bad idea either."
There is a testing silence. Coin frowns slightly, "Fine."
The stylists cheer.
"We could make her a dress!"
"Or just up-cycle that one Cinna-"
"Guys, maybe we could get some food from-"
Coin clears her throat obnoxiously, "I am fine with the wedding propo." The words roll distastefully of her tongue. "But I want someone to take charge. Everything is going to be under strict supervision."
"I say we make Delly Calrwright do it. She knows Annie really well."
"Not it has got to be Cressida. It was her idea." Gale says. "Or Plutarch."
"Yeah, I nominate Plutarch!"
Plutarch smiles from amongst the other commanders. "I don't want to take that responsibly when our core focus is still the war." he reminds the room. The stylists are shushed. "But if there's one person who is going to organise a wedding, it has to be Effie."
"Effie Trinket?" Coin frowns at Plutarch.
"She is the best." Plutarch states simply. "Not one throws a party better than Effie."
"Yes! Remember that one four years ago in July right before Johanna Mason's Games?"
"Or that winter one that she and Cinna-"
"Enough!" Coin silences, "We can discuss the proceedings for the wedding when Soldier Trinket gets up here."
A few minutes later, Effie is back in the board room with every ounce of protest she had inside on visible display. She had been told Coin was looking for her, and she was not impressed. Effie thought that being kick off the team was humiliating enough, but being called back upset Effie even more. Why would Coin find th—-
She took her time to put on her pink sunglasses. Her pink heels echoed through the rooms she entered. She did not need to put on Capitol clothes to remind everyone that she had the most sass in the room.
"I understand you need my assistance, madam president."
"Yes, soldier. I have a special assignment for you."
"We want you to organise Finnick and Annie's wedding." Plutarch explained, "It will be airing as propo before the attack on the Capitol."
"A wedding?" Effie repeats, looking over at Finnick. He winks at her. "I -"
It was not at all what she was expecting. When Coin said special assignment, her head floated back to her duties. Perhaps something to do with Peeta, but a wedding… The very word wedding contrasted so sharply with the concrete walls of the room that she could not help but grin.
"You want me to arrange a wedding?" she asks, looking excitably at the handsome couple beside her.
"It will be under strict control. The priority will be propo, so discuss everything with Cressida and her team. Any special arrangements that you come up with will have to run everything past Plutarch and myself."
Coin walks up to Effie and hands her a tablet. "It will be held by the conference room on Level 37. Most of the practicalities are on this-"
Effie had seen tablets being carried around by Coin's many officers. The device felt heavy in her hands, almost like it should not be there. On the screen is a neatly printed citizen card and picture of herself in grey District Thirteen robes. Effie taps of the surface of the machine, and sees a plan pop up: 'Propo 23. Finnick and Annie Odair's Wedding'. She sees a map of the conference room appear, lists of kitchen staff and most surprising: A hovercraft and assigned crew members.
"You are dismissed, Soldier Trinket." Coin prompts at the door.
"Good luck." Plutarch adds.
Effie mumbles what she vaguely remembers as a thank you, and leaves the room. Once she is gone the commander and the president can hear squeals of delight.
"A wedding!" Flavius exclaims, "When was the last time you even dared to think of something like a wedding!"
"And it's Finnick Odair's wedding! This is perfect."
"Calm down, would you." Haymitch grumbles to the stylists. He walks across them, leaning in to see Effie's screen. "So what's the plan?"
Effie hums thoughtfully. "Well the dress is the most important feature." she starts, achieving smiles from the stylists. "And Finnick's suit, of course."
"But there is nothing but grey in this place." Octavia states the obvious.
"Not so fast." Effie points at the screen.
"A hovercraft?" Haymitch whispers, "Your own personal hovercraft?"
"Then you can get anything from any district in Panem!"
"Don't be a brick, Octavia. We can't go to the Capitol."
Effie silences them by putting a hand in the air, "Children," she says in her professional voice, "We have been gifted with the task of arranging the wedding of the decade. Please allow me to take charge."
And then Haymitch goes through the audial of having four stylists and a escort discuss "what we'll make the most gorgeous occasion since Milik Autumnbrook's New Year's party".
There is mentions of fabric, —
"Have you done this before?" Haymitch asks off-hand.
The stylists' dyed eyebrows furrowed in his direction. Then they burst into laughter - the Capitol kind which comprised of high-pitched tee-hee's
Effie brushed her friends aside, "This will be my seventh wedding." she told Haymitch.
"You've planned six weddings?" he asked doubtfully.
"Don't look so surprised. I became an escort because I am so good at organising events. You of all people should know that."
"Fair enough, but six weddings? Who has the money?" he asks, and then remembers they come from the Capitol, "Who has the time? I've only attended about three weddings in my whole life."
"That is a tragedy." Flavius says, "Because I've been married three times."
"Four for me." Venia brags, "The last one was a transvestite. Horrendous man."
Haymitch's mouth hangs open, trying to imagine how low the standards of the people in the Capitol were. "What about you?" he asks Effie.
"Oh Effie's never been married." Venia chips in, surprised that Haymitch does not know. "She is too perfect to get married. No human exists to live up to her standards."
"Or she's just too picky." Flavius suggests, "Can we all take a moment to remember Nathan?"
They all sigh dreamily, chorusing a "Naaathan…"
Effie just shakes her head, "I prefer being on the backseat." she says, not really convincing anyone - least of all Haymitch. "I did my three sisters' weddings, and Cinna's wedding, and my friend Jacquenette's and-"
"And my wedding." said Octavia, a little embarrassed. "It was a beautiful ceremony down in the Copperbelly Park. Very few people were invited and Jackie and I… You did more than we could have asked for."
"And it was my pleasure." Effie says, squeezing Octavia's hand. They share a moment of recollection. "So you see, Haymitch, I'm practically married already if you count all the things I've organised."
The stylists giggle at this.
"And I'll be honoured to have you all on my team for this one. Finnick and Annie's wedding is going to be unforgettable, my darlings, simply unforgettable. We are going to show these cave-dwellers what real fun is supposed to look like."
x
Coin had only given him two tasks: Get Peeta back to the world and get Katniss to to help with the task. The girl, of course, had her mind set on different things. Between Gale, Boggs and the other 20 000 military fanatics in District Thirteen, Katniss had decided she wanted to be a soldier.
"Come on, kid. You and I both know they're never going to send you to that front line."
"And why won't they? I've united the districts, haven't I? The Mockingjay has done what she needs to do. Now I get to choose what I want to do." Katniss says, stubborn as a rock.
Haymitch looks down at her uncertainly.
"It's not like I'm doing it alone. Johanna and I-"
"You want to be a soldier with Johanna Mason? You can barley breath, Katniss. And answer me this: how much training have you done since you came to Thirteen? I hate to be the one breaking it to you, but you are not a soldier. Rather focus your talents on something you know you can accomplish."
"What like Peeta?" she barked.
"Yeah, like Peeta."
Then she gets up from her hospital bed, "He is a mutt, Haymitch. Have you ever seen a tracker jacker turn into a butterfly?"
"Has anyone ever tried to reverse it?" he argues, but then she is gone, probably crawling into the nearest dark corner. Haymitch moans into the air in frustration.
"She's just so fucking selfish." he tells Effie that night, making her flinch by cursing.
"Well, teenagers are inconsiderate in general." she starts, "But you are probably right." she adds, seeing his scowl form.
The Peeta task had not gone considerably better than trying to take Katniss. While Haymitch was in Two, a bunch of doctors had tired all sorts of techniques to get him to remember the truth. This included 'revamping his senses' to eradicate the layer of fallacy the tracker jacker lemon had bestowed upon him. This had had almost not sucess.
The first thing Haymitch did when he got to the mental ward is chased the idiot doctors away. He knew how little success the phycologist have with patients - he was a prime example himself.
Since Katniss was in no place to do anything but attempt solider training with Johanna, Haymitch had organised for Delly Cartwright to help. She was Peeta's neighbour, and had known him before he met Katniss. Peeta's response to a conversation with her went better than anyone could have hoped, until Delly mistakenly brought up the Seam. The boy then started shout all sorts of things involving Katniss's name, and the whole task went down as a disaster.
Meanwhile at dinner each night, Greasy Sae forced Haymitch to sit in the kitchen and talk about his day. It was a futile task, because being in Sae's company bought up two things he really did not want to think about: the horrible time in his life when Sae cared for him, and those mornings in the Seam when she drank with him.
The brew that Ripper had fermented in her bathtub gave him goosebumps. The thought of the stuff's intense bitter smell, and then the metallic aftertaste it had in his throat. He had drunk so much of the stuff that he remembered the warm hum it left in his brain for days afterwards. The thought of that hum made him anxious. He needed it, fast, and Greasy Sae speaking about it so often did not help in the slightest.
"You know old Ripper lost her best customer when you left for 'dem Hunger Games each year. I had to share my rations with her when you left each summer. Cost a near fortune. It was probably for 'dem best in the end. When little Haymitch comes back, he buys even more."
It made him prickle with annoyance - or was it the need to relapse - whenever she spoke of it. He could not bare to think of the last time he was called 'little Haymitch', but he supposed could not be angry at her. She was only sorting through her own grief for a dead district and a dead Ripper. He saddened when he thought of a dead Ripper.
Haymitch was relieved when Effie showed for meals. She kept them busy with her wedding business, never shutting up once they got her started. There was so much she had to think about for the wedding. Haymitch only really noticed the extent of her special assignment when she first started complaining to the kitchen staff one night.
From trying to get to meet Finnick and Annie's personal desires regarding the ceremony, to filleting through the many ideas of her stylists came up with and then finally getting Coin and Plutarch to approve it all. It was a great task, which Effie struggled to keep contained. One particular evening she was going on about decorations. Apparently she wanted to include the natural beauty of the farming districts into the wedding. Haymitch did not know where her inspiration came from exactly - the Capitol was not exactly a forest - but he did like the idea.
"Fulvia and Coin are allowing me to use the hovercraft to get some trees for the hall." she said.
The eyes in the kitchen rounded in astonishment.
"Oh I don not get to ride in the hovercraft personally." Effie added, defusing everyone's excitement. "But the pilot that got assigned to me is quiet accommodating. We can get some fruits trees from District Eleven; some pine from Seven and perhaps wheatgrass from Nine. I think the young wheatgrass - it is still very green at this time of the year - will compliment the airiness of Annie's dress well, don't you think? I do recall Finnick saying something about the youth-"
And then she was off again, so deep in her own thoughts that she did not realise she was interrupting herself by the speed at which she was talking. Haymitch did not mind. He quiet liked looking at her while her head bobbed in concentration. It made her headscarf flap up and down, almost reminding him of with she still wore those ridiculous wigs.
After each meal, Effie would follow Haymitch down to the level of the hospital after dinner. Her mind would finally be cleared of wedding-business, so he could spend the time with her in relative peace.
They would collectively check up on Peeta before disappearing off to their compartments. Haymitch would show the progress he and his team had had thought the day, or lack thereof.
"He asked to speak to Prim this morning."
"And why is that significant?" Effie wondered, putting her hands on the railing and looking at Peeta sleep.
"Because he and Prim were never of them alone. I mean, his memories of Prim are all directly connected to Katniss."
"Oh, yes." Effie nodded, "But would Peeta not make that connection in his head?"
"I think he forgot. I was hoping he would just talk about something abstract but… The meeting did not go as planned. It ended like it usually does." Haymitch said sadly.
"Well he does look peaceful in his sleep." Effie observed, "We should be glad he is sleeping, actually. He only really started sleeping that night Katniss got shot."
"He is getting better." Haymitch agreed, "He was taking about Delly this afternoon."
"Did she go in again. I am glad. So brave of that girl to do what she does." Effie smiled, "I wish I could do something to help."
"You're planning the biggest celebration that Thirteen's ever seen. I think you can be excused from Peeta duty.
"I'll do anything but laundry." she joked.
"I though farming was the worst?"
"It is defiantly laundry. All those hideous grey jumpsuits."
Haymitch laughs, sitting back in his chair. The air is quiet while they watch - the only irritation in the dead of night being the heart rate monitor.
"I think I got an idea." Effie states, facing him, "What if we get Peeta to make the wedding cake? You said he was taking about baking, didn't you?"
And then he was thinking of the old Peeta as a little boy in the bakery. He remembered those gingerbread men he crafted, or the lavish cakes he crafted. Even just the sketches the boy had done after the 74th Games had helped him cope with his grief.
"That might- wow that is the best idea you've had so far." he admitted.
She smiled self-satisfactory, hands behind her back. If Haymitch wasn't busy thinking of a plan to get icing sugar into District Thirteen, he would have noticed her burning cheeks.
"We can get him to think of his family. And then afterwards we could explain we it was, subtly explaining how he knows Finnick from the Games, and then Katniss, Oh this is a really good plan!" He praises.
"That is if Coin will approve of so many unnecessary nutrients that comes with cake." Effie reminds him.
They debate the topic until they come to the elevator. They would have to split now. She would go up to her compartment and he would go down to his.
"Wow, thank you so much for that. I think Plutarch might just love me after I tell him about that. I will tell him it was your idea, of course."
"Good-night, Haymitch."
"Yeah. Thank you, er-" he debates on calling her on her first name, "-princess."
"Now did I mention that I liked you better sober?"
Then the elevator doors close on his laughing face, and on her shy smile. He was still so flabbergasted by her good idea that he forgot why he was walking back to the hospital.
Hiding behind a door until the coast was clear, he rushed into a storeroom. He dug deep inside his pockets to retrieve his old hip flask. Carefully, he filled it with white spirits. He discreetly placed an empty bottle of surgical spirits onto the shelf amongst the full ones. It took a lot of effort to be able to drink in District Thirteen. The very last thing he'd want is for someone to take that away from him.
