This is the second part of my story about Haymitch and Effie. I think I prefer writing from Haymitch's POV, its hard to make Effie so upbeat all the time! :) Hope you like it!

50th Hunger Games

Effie watched as Maysilee Donner's neck was skewered by the beaks of the pink birds. She was sitting on the sofa with her mother and father, clinging to her mother as she watched the girl get killed.

Haymitch ran towards her, hearing her screams, and held her hand whilst she died. When she finally died, and the cannon sounded, Haymitch screamed at the sky, making Effie wince. He was clearly devastated by Maysilee's death.

"It's okay sweetheart. There's only four of them left. Maybe Haymitch will win!" Effie's mother said, trying to perk the little girl up.

Effie smiled, thinking of Haymitch winning. She could see him as a victor, coming round the Capitol.

Eventually, it was down to just Haymitch and the girl from District One, Amalia. Their fight was so brutal that Effie's mother made her go sit in the kitchen until it was over. Effie banged on the door, shouting, until her mother opened the door with a smile.

"It's over, sweetie."

Effie rushed past her, heart pounding wildly, to see Haymitch slumped on the floor, barely conscious, and an axe stuck in Amalia's head.

"He won!" She squealed, jumping up and down. He didn't look so good, but he was alive!

Haymitch was lifted from the arena, and then the Games were announced to be over, the victor pronounced as Haymitch Abernathy from District Twelve.

"How did she die?" Effie asked her father.

"Haymitch is a clever boy. He used the force field." Her father said.

"How?"

"The force field deflects objects. Haymitch used it, so when the girl threw her axe, it went over the cliff, and got deflected right back at her! It was amazing!"

"Harold! Don't tell her that!" Effie's mother shouted, slapping him on the arm.

Harold chuckled.

70th Hunger Games

"Well, another year, another victor." Effie said, more to herself than anyone else. Haymitch was probably too inebriated to understand her.

They both watched as a sodden Annie Cresta was lifted from the arena, and announced the winner of the 70th Hunger Games.

"Ah, twenty years have passed. How long they have taken." Haymitch slurs.

Effie ignored him.

"I remember this day twenty years ago. I had just killed that girl with the force field. My guts were hanging out and everything!"

Effie was interested. In the last twenty years, she had never actually watched the final fight between Haymitch and Amalia. However, as she looked over to prompt him to tell the story, she saw that Haymitch was fast asleep, light snores coming from his mouth.

"Stupid drunk." She muttered to herself.

She decided to leave him on the sofa, and got up to go to her room.

Suddenly, his hand closed around her wrist, pulling her towards him.

She fell on top of him with a squeal.

"You remember it, don't you Eff?" He laughed, watching her flail around on top of him.

"Let go of me Haymitch!" She shouted.

"Nah!" He laughed again. She could smell the liquor on his breath. It made her gag.

"Haymitch, let go. You're drunk!"

"I know, sweetheart. News flash, I'm always drunk!" He laughs at his own joke.

"Okay, really funny. You should go to bed now."

"Walk me?" He says, helping her off him.

They walked together down the hallway, past the tributes' bedrooms, and over to Haymitch's.

She said goodbye and walked down to hers.

She had just taken her makeup and wig off when she heard a crash.

Effie flew down the hallway to Haymitch's room and found him passed out on the floor, his mirror smashed in pieces.

"Haymitch!" She knelt down, trying to ascertain the damage. He had a gash on his forehead, with bits of glass sticking out of it.

"Oh God!" She shot up and called an Avox to help her. She came quickly and helped to take the pieces of glass from the drunkard's forehead and then left Effie to deal with it.

Effie cleaned the wound and placed a plaster on it, checking to see if Haymitch was conscious. Barely.

She called for another Avox, the male one this time, to help her carry Haymitch to the bed. Once he was on the bed, she pulled off his shoes, blazer, tie and waistcoat, to make him more comfortable. She wasn't going further than that.

Effie studied Haymitch's face. In sleep, he looked softer, less aggravated, more like the sixteen year old boy that she had fallen for. She traced his lips with her finger before she knew what she was doing. He had such a nice face and physique. It was too bad that he was ruining it with alcohol.

Suddenly, his eyelids flickered open. He stared at her in confusion.

"Who are you?" He slurred.

She laughed. How could he not know who she was?

"I think you've been drinking too much, Haymitch! Or you've finally lost your mind!"

His hand grabbed hold of her wrist.

"Who are you?" He said louder, squeezing her wrist tight. His eyes were dark and burning.

"Ouch, Haymitch! It's me, Effie! Effie Trinket!"

At that moment, she remembered why he wouldn't recognise her; she had taken her makeup, wig, and clothes off. She was pale, bare faced, with her blonde hair down, and in a nightgown. She could have been anyone.

Haymitch contemplated this, and then recognition flashed in his eyes.

"Effie. It is you." His eyes widened, drinking in her face.

"Yeah, it's me. Could you let go now? You're cutting off my circulation!" She squealed the last bit, the numbing feeling in her hand scaring her.

He let go of her hand quickly, as if it were on fire.

"Eff... I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't recognise you."

Effie rubbed her wrist and smiled.

"I know."

"You look so... normal, Eff. I like it." He grinned, and the cockiness was back. She was enjoying the little bit of innocence that had crossed his features.

"Yes, well, this is my going-to-bed look. Are you okay? You hit your head on the mirror."

"My head hurts a bit, but that's probably because of the alcohol. I'm serious, Effie, you look great like that. You should just go like that, lay off the Capitol crap."

Effie sighed. "You know I can't do that, Haymitch. I am a Capitol citizen, therefore I wear Capitol clothing." She fiddled with his plaster to make sure it was covering the entire wound. "I would give you some painkillers, but you've been drinking, so it's ill advised."

He ignored her last sentence. "Come with me to Twelve. Live next to me. Then you could look like that, always."

She looked into his eyes. Was Haymitch Abernathy really asking her to live in District Twelve with him? His eyes seemed serious, even innocent. He really wanted this.

"I can't."

She saw his face fall.

"I live in the Capitol. I can't abandon my family, and my life. I'm sorry. Take me as I am, or not at all."

With that, she got up and left the room. She cursed herself. What was she doing? She had finally gotten close enough to break through his facade, and now she was ruining it! She was in a position that six-year-old Effie could have only dreamt about! And she was ruining it, all for her stupid Capitol pride!

Haymitch's POV.

Damn her, Haymitch thought as his head hit the pillow. Damn her for showing up like that.

She was so beautiful. Underneath all the Capitol crap, she was a true beauty. She reminded him of Maysilee Donner, in a way, a natural blonde beauty.

No, don't think of her. He pushed all thoughts of his district partner from his mind, trying in vain not to see her face. Instead, he focused on Effie, sitting over him like a guardian angel. She had helped him when he had fallen, despite his genuinely abysmal treatment of her over the past month. He hadn't known her for very long and yet she seemed like she knew him. She probably did. You get to know your victors quite well.

He had been awful to her, and yet she had still tried to help him. Her kindness astounded him.

He got up and grabbed one of the many dirty glasses on his bedside table. Walking outside to get some more alcohol, he hoped to see her again, looking like she did. He understood why she had said what she had said, and he wanted to tell her that. He was stupid for asking her that question anyway. Why would Effie Trinket, rising star in the Capitol, want to leave her star-studded life to live with him in dirty, impoverished District Twelve? The thought of her being there made him laugh. He pictured her expression, horrified, as she saw the starving children, and as she used a pristine white hankie to pick up anything. She would be so out of place, it was unbelievable.

As he poured himself some more liquor and searched for ice, he didn't see her. She had obviously gone back to her room.

Disappointment filled Haymitch before he could stop his emotions. Why on earth was he disappointed at not seeing her? Surely he should be thrilled to have a moment away from her prissy, upbeat attitude!

It was that way with the other escort, Marnie Chandra. Haymitch hated Marnie and everything she stood for; she was so excited about the Games every year, happy to send two kids to their deaths. She was constantly on his back, getting him to stop drinking and to look nice for the cameras. And that was it. There was no word from her about helping the tributes. All she wanted was for her reputation to be intact, and for Haymitch not to show her up.

This was the difference between Marnie and Effie. Effie truly cared. She had wanted to help Ileana. She had cried when they had died. Marnie had only sniffed and said "that's a shame. I won't get promoted this year." Marnie only cared about herself, like every other Capitol citizen. Except for Effie. Effie cares. She was still an insufferable Capitol princess, but she cares.

Haymitch decided to take the bottle back with him and drink himself into a stupor. However, as he got back to his room, he thought about what she had said. Maybe he should try and cut down on the drinking, and try and help his tributes, for once. He had failed this year, but he may succeed next year.

Leaving the glass and bottle untouched, he climbed into bed and tried to sleep. Tried being the operative word.

Faces swam before his eyes. First to show was Ileana, her face pale from loss of blood, accusations forming in her mouth. Then it was Karl, and the other tributes from past years that he had failed to save, all cursing him for their deaths.

Then the girl from 1 whom he had killed with the force field. The hole in her head where the axe struck was streaming with blood. The one eye that she had left was holding fresh tears as she accepted her death.

Then, poor Maysilee was there. Her neck was punctured and bloody, tears falling down her cheeks. He remembered as he held her hand, how she trembled at his touch, how his heart tore into pieces at her death.

His mother and brother, who would never see him as a Victor. His family were captured after his victory and slaughtered on live television, as punishment for his crimes, and as a warning to others who would try to undermine the Capitol.

And last, before the nightmares became too much, she was there. Nadyah. His girl. His beautiful girlfriend from the Seam, who he loved so dearly. He remembered her face as he watched her being tortured on television, how she screamed his name and told him that she loved him. He remembered as the executioner tore at her chest with a knife and tore out her heart, as the Peacekeepers held him to his seat and made him watch.

Seeing the light leave her eyes was enough to make Haymitch jump out of sleep. He was sweating and shaking. He could still see her before him, limp and lifeless; lying on the end of his bed, blood running onto his bedsheets.

Haymitch switched the light on, and half expected to really see Nadyah there. But he was alone, as usual.

"Fuck this." He muttered, and downed the entire glass of now watered-down liquor in one go, proceeding to down the bottle as well.

Intoxicated and unable to feel anything, Haymitch passed out, no longer seeing the horrors that plagued his every sober thought.

Please review, this is my first story on here! :)