Author's note: So this is a bit longer than the others (lol about 200 words longer, never mind). I just gotta warn you guys who are dying to read more (don't die I like you) that I am going back to school tomorrow and I might not be able to upload shizzle as often as I do now, since the second year of my education is the toughest (my body is so not ready for this). I'm also going to an anime convention this weekend, so I won't at all upload during the weekend (except for maybe Sunday evening, if I'm not dying from tired)

Well, now you know a bit about my plans (like you care).

This story may be seen as triggering to people dealing or having dealt with self injury, suicide or depression. Rated M for descriptive violence and very dark themes.


"Trinket," He called her as she was leaving the room. Cinna, who had been sitting calmly sketching something on a pad, looked up. Haymitch's voice sounded like someone beat him up.

"Mr Abernathy?" Effie replied and looked him in the eyes with a plea of silence. Her eyes darted to Cinna.

"Can I talk to you… In private?" Haymitch realized how fake this sounded, but it didn't matter. Cinna would get the idea – at least it seemed that way when he got up and left with a slight grin. Yeah, he probably didn't get the right idea, but Haymitch could give a flying fuck about what Cinna thought they were doing.

"What do you want? Don't you think … Don't you think you've ruined enough already? God, you're so stupid," she said coming closer to him as her voice lowered to a whisper. She didn't sound mad, she didn't even sound irritated. Just sad and miserable.

"I wanted to know what's going on,"

"You're drunk,"

"I'm always drunk, what's your excuse?" He snapped back at her making her obviously frightened by his hard words.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Mr Abernathy … You should –"
"Can you please cut that out? Not even my father was Mr Abernathy… I'm Haymitch,"

"You should forget everything you saw and everything I've done up to this point. Just pretend nothing ever happened, pretend we've just met and I'm just the Capitol girl you think I am," she continued, ignoring his demand. Her words echoed back to when he'd told her never to speak about the Quell. Pretend it never happened.

"Like that's possible, look princess, I ain't judging you for anything. I want to help you. Don't ask me why, I don't exactly know why, but I feel I owe you and I don't like owing anybody anything," Haymitch said to her.

"Consider us even then. These will be my last games anyway,"

"Why?" Haymitch felt something that kind of seemed like panic. He didn't want Effie to just disappear.

"I'm quitting this job. I can't risk it ruining my reputation after these things happen, it's not good for me,"

"So it's the games that's getting to you?" he asked feeling he got closer to the real case of this.

"If that's what you want to believe, then yes. Let's say it's just the games,"

"You can't quit," It'd look even more suspicious if she quit after just a few years.

"No, but I can stop trying," It was more like a threat than an actual resignment.

"Trinks. Why are you hurting yourself?" Haymitch finally asked. They'd been beating the bush for too long. "Why did I find you slashing your thighs? You've done it before, probably also after, but why?"

She looked up, her eyes welled with tears.

"You're not the only one with nightmares," She seemed to have given up now. All those secrets she tried so desperately to keep behind the bleached smile didn't even matter now.

"You have no idea how much pressure I'm under. What is expected of me. Every time you fail as a kid there's someone there to punish you. But I'm a big girl now –" She wiped her eyes leaving smears of make-up on her handkerchief. "- So I have to punish myself," she finished looking at him with a pained expression. He was speechless. She hadn't said much, but somehow she'd made her point. He remembered her first reaping, how the only thing he'd found remotely interesting about her was her flaws. How she'd cried – probably for hours – over that tiny mistake with the camera.

"For how long have you been … punishing yourself?" Haymitch asked trying to hide the fact that he was so scared of this side of her, he'd gladly take another round in the arena instead of diving deeper.

"I was eleven the first time," she admitted. Haymitch realized he had no idea how old she was. With her make-up on she looked like her mid thirties. Without he wouldn't be surprised if she just turned 20.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this. I told you to forget it, so that's what you have to do. Don't worry about me," She said looking away from him. He walked a few steps closer to her, making the distance between them less than half a metre.

"You worry about me sometimes, Trinket,"

"My job is to worry about you," she said looking so hard into the floor she seemingly stared right through it and into the district 11 quarters below.

"Your job is to make sure I get here, not to wipe vomit of my face and send me birthday greetings. I can care about you if I want to," Haymitch said the words in an angry whisper, but meant them in a nice way. They hit her no matter what way they came out in, because she let out a whimper and looked at him like he'd stabbed her right there on the spot. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"You're not supposed to care, Mr Abernathy,"

"Stop talking about what I'm supposed to, Trinket," He only put her last name in the sentence to make her stop talking to him, like he was above her. She hadn't opened her eyes yet when he did it. It didn't feel natural at all or well placed in the situation, but seeing her trembling lips made him want nothing but to cover them with his own. His heart and brain raced with a speed only matched by the fastest vehicles in the Capitol. How fucked up did a night have to be for him to end up kissing Effie Trinket? When he moved away from her she'd opened her eyes and now looked at him with a mixture between wonder, relief and pure sadness.

"You're certainly not supposed to do that, Mr Aber- Haymitch," she said with a voice so brittle he could barely hear it over the beating of his own heart. A few years ago he'd hit her so hard her nose broke, seriously considering killing her. Now he didn't want anything more than another kiss or just a touch. It took Effie a moment to wipe away the fresh and confused tears, before she fulfilled his wish and gave in to another, deeper kiss, so close he felt the tears clinging to her long, fake eyelashes.

He felt her lipstick stick to his lips when he once again let her draw away from him.

"I'm sorry…" she said and suddenly looked so very worried and began panting like she'd run a marathon. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have…"

"Effie, don't … Please," Haymitch begged, because he thought he had an idea of what she was thinking about.

"I won't Haymitch, I promise. If you promise to not…" she obviously didn't know how to end her sentence.

"I won't," he just replied. Leave her? Tell on her? He had wanted answers from this conversation, but all he'd done was to raise even more questions and planting a sort of need deep in his soul. He took the liberty of stroking a strand of wig hair back in place, he had an urge to rip the thing of her head, but the night was still young and he was unsure if Cinna would be showing up again.

"I'm going to wash up," she said and finally broke a smile to him. A real one. It wasn't like the ones she put on in front of the tributes and the general public, where it was so painfully fake it showed off way too much of her way too white teeth.

"I must look horrible," she continued and he realized he'd been keeping one hand on her waist as she gently, but firmly removed it.

"Meh, you're prettier without it,"

"You're prettier without that attitude," she replied back.


"So… Last night?" Cinna asked at breakfast looking at Haymitch. Only Portia and the avoxes were here to watch Haymitch squirm in his seat. He'd followed Effie to 'wash up', not because he expected to do anything more with her, but because he was scared she'd break her promise. Cinna had a huge smile painted all over his face.

"Last night?" Portia asked giving him a look "What have you done?"

"Effie and Haymitch wanted a private moment last night, kicked me right out of the living room, did they," Cinna said as Katniss and Peeta entered. Effie was late. It didn't look like her.

"Nothing happened, Cinna, - Good morning,"

"Happened where?" Peeta asked curiously.

"Nowhere!" Haymitch replied and began eating, determined not to say anything more.

She came into the room looking a bit … off. Her outfit was as coordinated as ever, but there was almost an effect of overstated perfection. He shook his head. Cinna didn't miss how long he'd been looking at her and laughed at him. Effie blushed before she even sat down.

"I'm sorry for the delay, I'd misplaced my folder for today," she said in a dead voice. Nothing bubbly or happy about it.

Cinna and Portia looked silently at Effie. Maybe they noticed it too – well it was hard to miss, so he was sure they did. There was something wrong. Then Haymitch felt Cinna's eyes settle on him again, this time without the playfulness. Katniss and Peeta started a conversation and the stylists fell into it. Effie kept quiet, which too was also very unlike her. Haymitch couldn't judge if she regretted everything or was just too shy to know what to do. None of the possibilities would surprise him.


After breakfast Cinna pulled him aside. He felt it was not to discuss Katniss' next outfit, so he didn't protest, like he normally would. His brown eyes, enhanced by the thin gold line, laid upon him merciless. All the fun from the start of the day was gone. When he spoke, his words sounded like taken directly out of a movie.

"If you hurt her again, I'm going to kill you,"

"Cinna, Effie and I … we didn't do what you think we did last night,"

"Women here are different, Haymitch. They're fragile, weak-willed,"

Haymitch looked at him for a long time. Not all Capitol women he'd met was like Effie, actually none of them was, but fragile was a good overall description.

"It's not like I fucked her, Cinna," Haymitch said to make it very clear for the stylist.

"Then why does she look like somebody abused her?"

"If you need to know, why don't you ask Effie?" Haymitch said getting tired of the accusations.

"Maybe I will," Cinna said with a warning deeply anchored in his voice.

Haymitch turned his back to him. Everything last night was a mistake and he took it the next few days would get that awkward feeling he wouldn't even be able to shut out with spirits.