Original Prompt (anon): here is a prompt for you :) AU where Effie was with Haymitch during the announcement of the Quarter Quell (75th Games) Haymitch then finally see's her for who she really is that she isn't as oblivious that she is just as afraid and angry as he is.
"Here. You need it more than I do."
Haymitch accepted the bottle of white liquor from Effie's hand with a hint of an appreciative smile, muttering a word or two of thanks under his breath.
She had been here little less than a week now, some problem with a storm further inland causing disruptions to the travel network – or so the television said. Haymitch thought otherwise.
He watched as Effie lifted her teacup, taking a tentative sniff of the less-than-innocent liquid inside. After she had apparently registered the drink for her approval, she took a small sip as one might to check for poison.
He found himself grinning at the more than displeased face she made as she set the cup down on a table as if it were about to detonate.
"I'm not at all sure how you drink that."
He shrugged and took a swig from his bottle. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, sweetheart."
She sat in the armchair next to his with a comprehending murmur.
Both eyed the television screen impatiently, wanting nothing more than for this to be over. A set of white letters stared back: Announcement of the Third Quarter Quell airing in 0 hours 03 minutes 55 seconds. Viewing is mandatory.
"What do you think it will be?" Effie asked quietly, folding her hands in her lap.
"No telling. Whatever it is, I can guarantee it will be as completely unbearable as always."
She kept quiet at that knowing that he spoke words that she could never say nor really agree to, regardless of whether or not it was the truth.
The next three minutes were spent in a thick and uncomfortable silence.
As the countdown reached five zero's, a beep sounded and the seal of Panem was shown before it was replaced moments later of a live feed from the City Circle. Applause roared as the President took to the podium, an envelope containing the grounds of the new and glorified Games in hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of the Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of the Games, that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance and now, on this the seventy-fifth anniversary of the defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the Third Quarter Quell."
It was a reflex really when she reached for his hand, a gesture both were accustomed to after years of bloodbaths and dead tributes. It was like a lifeline.
"As a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this the Third Quarter Quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors of each district."
Effie heard glass smash and felt her hand fall slack against the now empty leather chair beside her and for a moment she was too petrified to react. It wasn't until she was aware of a sudden cold chill running through the house that she thought to look up. The front door was ajar and Haymitch was gone.
Effie pulled herself up from her own chair, avoiding the spilt liquor on the wooden floor.
She reached the bottom of the porch steps without a single idea of how she got there and felt hard gravel beneath her stocking-clad feet, cursing for not putting on shoes no matter how impractical they may have been for chasing down a victor gone astray.
There were no streetlights and she wished for artificiality, the moon not nearly bright enough to light her way.
It took her a moment, shivering in the cold to spot a retreating figure at the end of Victor's Village and, thankfully, said figure wasn't moving at too brisk-a pace.
"Haymitch!" she called as she began to run, ignoring the damp gravel and grass.
He didn't stop but as she got closer, an outstretched hand managed to brush his arm. A tighter grip got him to stop.
"Haymitch, I-"
"No. Don't." The words billowed from his mouth as clouds in the freezing air
"Where are you going? Please just think about this for-"
"Think about this?! Tell me, Effie, what the fuck is there for me to think about?"
Another figure brushed past them, dark braid swaying as it sprinted away. Neither Haymitch nor Effie bothered to call after her.
"I'm going into the Arena again-"
"You don't know that," she cut in, a lump forming the back of her throat at the thought
"Oh no, I do. You either call my name or Peeta's and I can't let the boy go back in again. I won't…"
"Haymitch, this is really no time to be heroic. You must think logically for a moment." She held up a hand when he tried to interject. "What if your name is called and Peeta volunteers? What then?" Silence was her answer. "You see, you can try and try to keep them safe but you can't – not really."
Her comment struck a nerve. He had tried to keep his family safe but he had failed. Though she didn't say it, he understood what she was trying to. Some way or another, the Capitol always wins.
He lifted his head to look her in the eye for the first time. "And what about you? What the hell do you make of all of this?"
"I think it's…" She paused. "Upsetting."
"Is that it? 'Upsetting'? I thought you cared a little more than that." He spat back, leaning against a crumbling brick wall.
"I do, I do!" She hissed. "You think I want to do this? To put two of Twelves victors back into the arena? I hate this! I hate my job, I hate myself, I hate the Games, I hate-" Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as soon as the words slipped out, blue eyes wide and glancing around as though she had divulged the thought surrounded by peacekeepers.
Haymitch raised an eyebrow, a little too stunned to do otherwise.
"I shouldn't have said that. I'm just so… angry." She whispered, eventually retracting her hands.
"Yeah, I get that."
"And I'm – I'm scared for Katniss and Peeta. I'm scared for you."
"I'm scared for them too."
"But not yourself?"
Haymitch shook his head. "I can't be. The kids have their families, people who care about them waiting for if they get out alive. I don't have any of that."
She moved towards him, a look of gritty determination written across her features. "You mustn't think like that - I will not allow it. I care for you. Deeply. You have been a colleague of mine for many years and, at times, a friend. Katniss and Peeta care for you too, I know they do."
He looked at her as though she had lost her mind. Why would she consider him a friend - all they ever did was argue?
She evidently took note of his expression as she stiffened. "I'm sorry, but it had to be said."
There was a pregnant pause.
"I can't do it. They shall have to find somebody else. Another Escort." A hand flew up to her face to cover her eyes. "Another Escort."
"You have to," he said, voice still distant. She shook her head.
"I can't," she battled with the tears behind her eyes, trying desperately not to cry. She didn't want to be selfish tonight.
"If you hand in your notice now, Snow's going to know something's up. Hell, Effie, you're meant to be excited. You can't think like this, not now. Just… be yourself." For a man just informed of his possible return to the arena, he had a remarkably level head. The cogs were always ticking, it seemed.
Nonetheless, it was another bar on her voice, another bar on the thoughts she wasn't supposed to have. One more and she might explode.
"I don't really think it's myself anymore," she looked up and met his sad eyes.
He nodded in understanding. "Even so."
"Even so…I'll see what I can do," She spoke, unsure of what exactly that entailed. She said it for her own benefit, to make herself feel useful somehow. "I'll stay."
Deep down she realised she never could have left anyway. Her heart was keeping her there now; she loved the victors of Twelve too dearly to let some uncaring, emotionless drone take her place. They were all too close now, a family of sorts, a-
"A team. We're a team." The words flowed so easily from her tongue as she spoke aloud, uncaring of who might have heard.
She saw Haymitch smile briefly at that, taking one of her cold hands in his own as he began to lead her back to Victors Village.