Another sleepless night leaves Effie feeling even worse, but she manages to put in half a day's work regardless. At lunch, she excuses herself, heads to her room in Peeta's house and crawls into bed fully clothed, too tired to care about the wrinkles this will cause.
Half an hour later, there's a knock on her door. Effie sits up in bed, pulling the blankets about her shoulders, and says, "Come in."
"Hi," Katniss says, her footsteps silent as she crosses the room.
"Hello, Katniss." Effie watches her get settled on the floor.
"I saw you come home early," Katniss says. "Hope you don't mind."
"No, of course not." Effie gives her a small but sincere smile. "Come sit up here, if you like."
Katniss shakes her head. "I have cat hair all over my pants." As if to make sure, she checks her shirt and sleeves. Nodding, she turns to Effie again. "About yesterday-"
"I'm sorry if I was a bother."
"You weren't. I meant to say thank you, actually." Katniss shifts, shrugging. "I think it must be hard for Peeta sometimes, how I can get. I think your being there gave him a break for once."
"I doubt he sees it that way," Effie says. "I doubt he minds at all."
"Still."
She falls silent for a while, and Effie watches her, glad to see her out and about, even if she's keeping to one person in a neighboring house.
"I heard what you were saying," Katniss continues a bit later. "I just couldn't… anything."
Effie nods. "It's all right. It was nice just to sit with you."
"So… did something happen?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Since you got back, you've been going over to Haymitch's after working, but not yesterday."
"Very astute," Effie remarks with a wry grin. "To put it simply, I didn't feel up to talking with him yesterday. He didn't do anything, really, I just… I needed a break."
"Sorry I wasn't all there."
"Katniss, no, it was nothing." Effie looks around the room, not sure what she's seeking. Her eyes fall on her glass of water. "I brought some hot chocolate mix with me. Would you like some?"
Katniss gives her a wan smile. "Sure."
A few minutes later, they sit in the living room with steaming mugs. Katniss takes a sip and shuts her eyes, savoring it. Effie smiles, the memory of the first time she saw Katniss try it coming to her in crisp detail.
"The supply train came in today, I noticed," Effie remarks. "One of my camera operators nearly fell over himself on his way to buy carrots."
Katniss nods, licking her lips. She holds Effie's gaze a moment, then says, "Haymitch did something, didn't he."
Sighing, Effie shrugs. "I suppose you could say so."
Katniss nods, squinting as she zeroes in on something only she can see. "He lied to me for most of the first year I knew him."
"It seems he has a gift for that."
"Yeah. I hated him for it." She takes a long sip of hot chocolate. "I felt used, like I was just some piece in a game."
Effie grimaces, remembering all too well that for Snow, Katniss had been just that. Well, for her first Games, at any rate. For her second, she must have been more like a pest that needed to be done away with at once.
Shrugging, Katniss says, "It all worked out in the end, but I still don't like it. I understand, but… still."
"Yes," Effie agrees, staring into her mug. "Still."
That is, perhaps, the most difficult thing to process: that Haymitch had acted as he thought best, and that it had, in fact, resulted in the outcome he and the other rebels had desired. More than that, she had survived where others hadn't. Part of that had to have been because she did not give the Peacekeepers the answers they were after. If he had told her even the slightest amount of the truth, would she be here right now? Would she have told the Peacekeepers after that first, endless day? Would she have been a proper rebel and dared to take the truth to the grave?
"He means well, though," Katniss tells her, drawing her out of the fog of what if. She continues when Effie meets her gaze. "That's how I came to forgive him. He always meant the best, even if it didn't turn out that way. He always cared."
"It's just difficult," Effie says softly.
"I know. But it'll be okay."
Effie nods. "You know, this is very strange. If anything, I should be the one making you feel better."
"I think, after everything, that we all have to help one another." Katniss looks out the window, at the blooming flowers in front of her house. "Prim would think so, too."
They finish their chocolate in silence. Effie tries to give her some of the powdered version to take home, but Katniss refuses.
"It won't be the same if I have it without you," she says with a shrug and a slight smile.
Before Katniss goes home, Effie kisses her cheek. They are, she notes, roughly the same height now that she has taken to wearing flats.
"You were right," Katniss says as she makes her way outside. "Sometimes another woman's company is just the thing."
It rains the next day, so Effie spends much of her time reviewing notes with the film crew in their base camp. She goes with one cameraman over to where the ruins of the Justice Building lie, holding tight to her umbrella while she peers at the rubble from all around and the cameraman gets his shots. The rain lets up in time to let them catch a few golden rays of sunlight falling on the brick and stone.
Before heading Peeta's house to what will surely be another sleepless night, she makes a stop at the house where the couple expecting a child live. She learns their names are Heather and Robert Marsh, and that they made the shoes she is wearing.
"I have to get going, but I was hoping I could speak with you tomorrow for a bit longer," Effie tells them. "I think your story is just the thing that this new Panem needs to hear. I don't mean to trivialize it," she adds quickly, "and I don't think it would be appropriate to film every moment of every day until you go into labor, but… well, that's why I'd like to talk it over with you. If you wouldn't mind."
Heather and Robert look at one another. He shrugs, and she says to Effie, "It certainly won't hurt to talk, will it?"
"Not at all," Effie assures them. "And you can tell me to leave as soon as you get tired of me." Even though she's being careful, she can't help a bright grin. This is the lightest she's felt in days. "I'll be here first thing tomorrow!"
When she gets back to Peeta's house, she is exhausted enough to remember to take off her muddy shoes only once she's taken a few steps inside. She finds the energy to clean up, but not enough to head upstairs to change just yet, so she sets about making some tea.
She's pouring boiling water over the tea bag in her mug when she hears someone walk in through the back door. Setting the pot down on the stove, she turns in the direction of the footsteps, expecting Peeta with a baked treat or Katniss with an empty mug.
Instead she finds Haymitch clutching a half-empty bottle of white liquor by the neck.
He keeps his gaze on the counter as he shuffles over, leaning against it once he's near enough. Clearing his throat, he meets her gaze.
"The supply train treated you well, I see," Effie remarks, neutral but not icy. It's strange how familiar this feels. This used to be their normal, this hesitant coolness, these reluctant conversations.
"Thought you might like the company," he says, no pretenses, no lies. It is just like before.
She picks up her mug, gripping it tightly. "I have company. I have an entire film crew with me this time."
"Real company."
"I have Katniss and Peeta not too far away."
He tilts his head sideways, half a grin tugging at his mouth. "Those two won't ever come bearing such good gifts."
She eyes the bottle in his hand, then meets his gaze head on. "You're the one who likes to drink, Haymitch."
He shrugs and sets the bottle on the countertop. "Don't hear you refusing."
Rolling her eyes, she grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it with ice. She takes the bottle, pours liquor into the glass, and sets it down in front of him. He snorts, cracking that half smile again, and knocks back the drink. Some of it drips down his chin; he wipes it away with his sleeve. She wrinkles her nose at the sight.
They stand in silence for a moment, Effie with her tea, Haymitch with his bottle, before finally he takes a slow, deep breath and turns his head to look out the window.
"We had to sedate you when we found you," he says, eyes fixed on something outside. "We had to get you to a hospital. You were weak, light as a feather, but you tried to fight us off anyway."
He pauses, and she can almost see what he's seeing. She doesn't remember being rescued, but she can imagine it, picture herself lashing out with what little strength she had at the men in uniforms barging into her cell, looming tall and imposing before her, a familiar sight made worse by their numbers.
"Took a while for the doctors to get you stabilized, but they did it. A few days after that, they took you in for surgery."
"Plutarch said there were three in all," she supplies quietly.
He nods. "About that time, Katniss woke up from her own procedures after the whole thing with the parachute bombs. She needed me a hell of a lot more than you did, so I went to be there for her. That's why you didn't see me for so long after you made it through it all. That, and…" He takes a breath, holds it for a moment. "I couldn't face you."
"Because of the bracelet."
"Right." Slowly, he meets her gaze. His is surprisingly steady despite his drunkenness. "Satisfied?"
She shakes her head. "Guilt on top of guilt doesn't beget satisfaction."
He laughs, not an ounce of mirth in him, and turns to go.
"Wait."
He is halfway to the door already when he stops. She waits until the silence gets to him, makes him at least look over his shoulder at her, taking the time to think on just what she wants to say and why she stopped him in the first place.
"I-" She presses her lips together a moment, takes a breath. "I don't sleep as well if I haven't talked with you. I don't know why, but I don't."
He nods slowly. "You've been sleeping with the light on," he says.
"You haven't been sleeping at all," she guesses.
He arches his eyebrows and nods. "True enough."
She remembers every year of Games they attended, how he never seemed to sleep, only pass out from too much alcohol; she remembers his off-handed remark about one of his best sober nights involving stabbing a table. Her own sleepless nights are likely nothing next to his, yet they are just as bad for her, just as real.
"Stay a while." When he meets her gaze, she adds, "Until we both feel tired enough to sleep."
"I'm already part of the way there," he says, lifting his bottle.
"That's fine. I just-" She catches herself, hides behind her mug and a frown. "I just need the company."
She leads him into the living room, her heart pounding, the words she almost said echoing in her head all the way there.