Effie isn't sure what wakes her up in the middle of the night, but it is surely either a dream she can't remember or Haymitch's cursing and thrashing and knife-throwing that has done the trick. The blade lodges itself in the door, and the thunk of it draws her out of the half-world between nightmare and reality.
Haymitch is still trapped there, yelling at a phantom attacker, so Effie goes from crying for help to pleading with him to stop.
It's her touch that does it, though, her hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, twists to face her, ready to strike; but he catches sight of her eyes, and the blind rage in his slowly disappears in the face of her concern. Breathing heavily, he shuts his eyes, the tension visibly lifting from his neck and shoulders.
"You all right?" he asks.
"Yes. And you?"
"Never can tell," he says, sighing sharply. He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. Several slow, deep breaths later, he turns to look at her. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?"
"You didn't." Adjusting the sleeve of her night gown, she breathes shakily. In the dim, pre-dawn light, his frown looks more pronounced, and the shadows on his face give him an air of someone who has fought for too long against an enemy he cannot defeat.
How true, that idea, and how it fills her with sadness, moves her to place her hand between his shoulder blades. His muscles tense in response, but she persists, her touch steady. This is all she can give him. He has gone through this for so long, and with no one to help him through. Now here they are with nothing left to hide of the remnants of despair that plague their nights and days; here they are, saving one another from the darkest of demons.
Downstairs, the phone rings. Effie suppresses the urge to sigh.
"That should be Quintus," she says. She scoots to the edge of the bed and looks over her shoulder at him. "If you feel up to it, would you like to go into town with me?"
He shrugs. "You should make sure everything's okay before you make plans."
Pursing her lips, she shakes her head. "All right."
Quintus confirms that both mother and infant are well, though for a while it had looked difficult.
"And you waited up all night for this?" she asks him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"A few of us did. You can come by whenever you want. I'm heading off to bed. Everyone already has their schedule for the day, so you won't have to worry about that."
"Thank you. Now get some sleep."
Haymitch is still sitting up when she returns to the guest room.
"All's well?"
"Yes," Effie answers, turning on the lamp on the bedside table. "And the invitation still stands."
"I'm fine here," he says, lying on his side so he faces away from her. "I'm not really a morning person, and the kid will still be there when the sun is up."
She laughs quietly as she plucks a dress from her wardrobe. With any luck, he'll still be there when she gets back.
Dawn has broken by the time Effie makes it to town. Yasmin times Effie's visit to ensure Heather's comfort, but the few minutes she gets are enough. Asleep in her mother's arms, Camellia is nothing short of precious.
Effie leaves the little family with heartfelt congratulations, then heads back outside to confer with the crew members who have come in after sleeping all night.
"It's an easy day today," Ismene tells her. "Lots of short interviews. Mostly, people will be happy, I'm sure."
"I expect so."
"It should really round out what we've collected."
Effie nods. "That sounds so final. I can't believe we're almost at the end of our time here."
"I know. It's been a great experience, but I can't wait to be back home. My nephew wrote me the sweetest letter last week!"
"Home," Effie says softly as Ismene goes to begin her assignment for the day. The Capitol will always be tied to that word for her, but home, then, is no longer a place where she feels safe.
She must not think about that now, though, not when there is still work to do, final schedules to fix, a list of things to discuss over the phone with Heavensbee to be devised. The rest of the morning is spent with Agrippa at base camp, where his expertise proves instrumental in speeding her work and crossing items off her to-do list.
It's early afternoon when she gets up to go back to Victors Village, but not without first stopping by the Marshes' house again. Yasmin has left Dahlia, her apprentice, in charge of keeping watch, and perhaps in an effort to prove herself, the younger woman is much stricter in her watch.
When her visit is over, Effie heads out of town until a voice from behind stops her.
"Want some company?"
"If it's yours, Katniss, then always."
They walk together at an easy pace, and Effie updates Katniss on the state of the project.
"Yasmin has approved us for filming Camellia the last few days we'll be here. Theodosia is so excited for that."
Katniss smiles, but Effie recognizes the lack of joy in it, even begins to feel the twinge of guilt that comes along with it.
"I went to see Camellia," Katniss says after several silent steps.
"She's sweet, isn't she," Effie says more than asks. It is an invitation to disagree, one that holds no promise of chastisement for a difference in opinion. If Katniss is being honest enough to speak without smiling, then Effie will do her the courtesy of letting her own misgivings come to the surface.
"Yeah. Really cute." Katniss bites her lips, waiting a beat, perhaps looking for the right words to say what she needs to say. Finally, she takes a breath and says, "I want to be happy for them. I am happy for them. Camellia will never know how it used to be."
"But?"
Shaking her head, Katniss shrugs. "I don't know. Would you have kids, after everything that's happened?"
Effie doesn't hesitate. "No. I can barely take care of myself some days."
"Me, too. And looking at Camellia, I just kept thinking of all those kids who died in the Games, the ones I saw die in the arena, all the ones who ever had to go through even one reaping day, and I just-"
Touching Katniss' shoulder, Effie nods. "I know."
Katniss sighs and squints up at the bright blue sky. "It'll be strange to see you go."
"It'll be strange to go at all," Effie agrees. She takes the change of subject in stride, shrugging, forcing herself to breathe through the sudden tightness in her throat. There is still time to be enjoyed here. She will save any tears for later. "I've gotten so used to you and Peeta and Haymitch being just a few houses down."
"I've gotten used to your iced tea."
Effie laughs. "I'll teach you how to make it. But you mustn't tell anyone else, all right?"
"Deal."
They part ways when they reach Peeta's house. Effie calls Heavensbee and updates him on their progress. His excitement comes through loud and clear, and once he has assured and reassured her that he will be in touch right away with the editors she'd selected before filming had begun, he congratulates her on her fine work.
"It's the people here you should be thanking, not me," she reminds him.
Heavensbee laughs. "Yes, absolutely, all those marvelous people. And have you thought of a title yet?"
"No, but we're close," she lies.
"I'll leave you to that, then."
She sighs heavily once she hangs up the phone. The early morning has taken its toll, and her insistence on completing her tasks for the day has not helped. She heads upstairs and nearly tiptoes into the guest room. Sure enough, Haymitch is still there, sprawled on his stomach, dead to the world.
Still, she is quiet, pulling open the drawers slowly in her search for lighter clothing. She is opening the second drawer when he tells her, "Cut that out. I'm awake."
"You should have said something sooner," she scolds him, sighing away the fright he'd just given her. "I could be napping right now." He laughs while she grabs an older dress from the drawer and pushes it shut hard. "Looks like you're all rested up," she tells him, standing.
"And you don't. Come on, sit down for a second. I bet you've been running around all day."
Perhaps it's presumption on her part, but she had not expected him to be so perceptive so soon after waking. Then again, he may have been awake before she even got to the house. In either case, she accepts the invitation, sitting in the space left when he sits up and moves to accommodate her.
"Very busy day today," she tells him. "How did you sleep while I was gone?"
He shrugs. "Could've been worse. I'll have to see about getting that door fixed now."
"It could be worse." He rolls his eyes, and she laughs quietly. "The Marshes' daughter's name is Camellia. You'll want to know that, because I'm sure it will come up no matter who you talk to from here on out."
He nods, gaze fixed on her. Suddenly self-conscious, she touches the blue curls at the back of her head, just to be sure she is, in fact, wearing her wig.
That prompts him, and he reaches out, saying, "You can take that off now, right?"
In a flash, she has let go of her older dress and grasped his wrists. Her hold is tight, her nails ready to bite into his skin. "Don't." With that, he relents, but she does not let him go. "Ask first," she tells him, her voice hard, her gaze firm. "Always."
"Can I-"
"Later." She holds his stare a few seconds longer before releasing his wrists and letting her muscles relax.
He nods slowly, his gaze remorseful. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I know." She places her hand on his and notes how very pale she is next to him. In all their years of attending reapings and preparing tributes for Games, she had never taken the time to really see him, not since the day they had met. He had been a constant in the ever-changing world of the Capitol, his surliness and sardonic sense of humor keeping her focused. She had spent so much time hating him for his disregard for proper behavior that she had not seen that he had been the only person to be truly honest with her.
And never once had he hurt her. Upset her, yes; driven her near the end of her patience, repeatedly. But he had let her be, in the end, and that was more than she could say about so many.
Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to his cheek, gives him a tiny smile when he frowns. She stands and heads for the door, glad for an early end to the work day, but a thought stops her short when she reaches it.
"Oh my goodness," she gasps.
"What?" he asks as she whirls to face him.
With a hand to her heart, she stares at him for a moment, then says, "I know what to call the documentary."