22.

"I think it should be twenty-two." Effie frowned at the math homework she was trying to help Prim with in the break room. She was very good at math as long as it involved additions, subtractions, percentages and everything that could help her when she went shopping. Equations were a little out of her league. "Maybe we should just ask Annie when she wakes up from her nap."

Prim readily agreed to that plan and Effie checked the clock on the wall for what was probably the hundredth time that day. They had been gone for three hours and a half. They probably didn't even reach the town yet.

"Maybe you should just stop wasting your time with homework." Gale mumbled from the window. He stiffened before Effie could launch in a speech about the importance of proper education. "They're back."

"What?" Effie exclaimed without any of her usual poise. Gale was already moving and she followed with Prim, half-walking and half-running along the tortuous corridors to reach the staircase. They were almost there when Katniss came up running at full speed, tears streaming down her face. She evaded Gale's prying hands, ignored Prim's question and bumped into Effie without any apology. The next thing they knew, a door was slamming shut a few corridors down.

Something cold and, strangely enough, burning hot at the same time churned in Effie's stomach. It felt like panic. It wasn't before she tasted blood that she realized she had been biting on the inside of her cheek. And then she hurried to the stairs, her brain already creating a thousand catastrophic scenarios that always ended with Haymitch's death.

She didn't have time to go far. He came up before she could start climbing down.

"Haymitch!" she cried out in sheer relief. She threw her arms around his neck and for a second he embraced her back, so tight it almost hurt. She felt his stubble tickling her neck and then he pressed a kiss to the side of her head and let go of her.

"Where's Annie, sweetheart?" His voice was rough and uncharacteristically cracking on odd words.

It was all it took for her to understand what was happening. The rebels had gathered behind them. The only people missing were Katniss, Peeta, Johanna and Annie. And Finnick.

"Her room." Gale replied.

Haymitch nodded and walked past them all. Someone started to cry, she thought it was Prim, others were cursing. She didn't stay to listen or offer comfort, she climbed down the stairs without really knowing why. She didn't think as she walked down to the lobby, following the growing noises of destruction and the swearing. "Johanna?"

The lobby had always been the most damaged part of the building, Johanna was apparently set on proving how true it was. She was flinging things left and right, leftover papers or pencils, a useless phone…

"Fuck!" Johanna roared with every new object she threw. "Fuck!" She grabbed a knocked over chair and flung it at the wall again and again but the chair refused to break. Johanna's leg twisted under her and she collapsed in the dust, panting hard. She didn't get up. She simply sat there.

"Johanna." Effie tried again.

"Get the fuck out of here, Trinket." Johanna growled.

Try as she might, she couldn't. She wanted to go to her friend who was so obviously hurting and offer comfort but she knew Johanna wouldn't want that.

"Johanna, what is going on?" She heard herself ask that ridiculous question even though she perfectly knew the answer. It wasn't hard to guess after all. Four had gone out, three had come back and two of those were crying.

"What, you want the full ugly story?" the younger woman chuckled – or maybe she was sobbing, it was hard to tell because she had her back on Effie. "You want to know how that mutt ripped his throat open? You want me to tell you…"

"Stop." she begged, feeling her own breath catching in her throat. "Stop."

But Johanna couldn't stop. Not now that she had found something else to destroy. She turned around to face her, finally getting back on her feet, and Effie saw the traces tears had left on her face, clean lines through the dirt and the blood.

"Is he… Is he…" Effie couldn't seem to stop asking stupid questions or even say the word.

"Dead?" Johanna sneered and then she started laughing an ugly, desperate laugh. "We're all dead, Trinket, we just don't know it yet." She went on laughing and laughing until she broke down and fell on the ground again. She kept laughing. Perhaps she didn't know how to cry anymore.

Effie ran away.

She sat on the stairs, pressed her head against her knees and she waited. The tears never came. She should have cried, she thought, Finnick had been her friend. She should have been crying. She took deep ragged breaths but it didn't make the sensation that all of this was surreal – a nightmare maybe – go away. She remained on those stairs for the longest time and, still, she couldn't shed a tear nor totally accept it. There was no body, nothing to bury or burn, nothing to help make it real, only a missing presence in the shape of Finnick.

Familiar footsteps finally found her but not familiar enough. The hand that kindly squeezed her shoulder wasn't entirely welcomed either.

"If you're feeling up to it, someone should sit with Annie." Plutarch said quietly.

Oh God, Annie… she thought. What other choice did she have but to stand up, force a brave smile on her face and soldier on? It was actually easier to fall back into that persona, to fuss over everyone and forget about her own pain. She instructed Plutarch to check on Johanna regularly but to not disturb her if it wasn't strictly necessary and then to make sure the teenagers had everything they needed, before she headed to Finnick and Annie's room – she wondered if they would ever call it anything else but that.

Annie was as distressed as could be expected yet there was no sobbing, no desperate wailing for someone who would never come. She kept rocking back and forth even when Effie hugged her, kept asking for Finnick every ten minutes and then pressed her hands over her ears before Effie could try to explain again, she kept wiping the silent tears rolling down her cheeks but she didn't seem to understand why she was crying.

It went on for hours. By the time Annie laid down on her side and simply vanished into her own imaginary world, refusing to interact with her anymore, Effie was exhausted. She sat with her back to the wall and she held her friend's hand even if the young woman wasn't aware of it. She tried to offer strength and support.

Eventually, the door opened on Johanna. She had cleaned up and changed clothes but she didn't look much better than she had earlier. "Go get some sleep."

Effie almost declined the offer because Johanna wasn't the most compassionate person but when she saw the determination with which the young woman sat next to Annie, she relented. Johanna had been friends with Finnick and Annie long before Effie came along, perhaps that was something she needed to do.

"Make sure she drinks regularly." Effie instructed, passing her a bottle of water. "She needs to stay hydrated or the baby…" She didn't finish her sentence. The baby had been on her mind constantly since she had stepped into that room but she had carefully not let herself linger on the thought at the same time. Not only this baby would be born in a dark world but he would never know his father either.

Johanna nodded her understanding but didn't say anything else so Effie left. She headed to the break room, intending to check on the teenagers but it must have been later than she thought because the children were nowhere to be seen. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, she really didn't mean to, but when she heard the low rumble of Haymitch's voice mixed with Coin's and Plutarch's, she couldn't help herself.

"We can get by with two cars." Coin argued.

"We could." Haymitch replied. "But between people and supplies, it will be so crammed it won't make any difference. We will run out of gas just as quickly."

"Three, then." Plutarch suggested. "We have enough gas to reach South Dakota with three cars."

Effie peeked inside to see the three of them hunched over maps spread out on the table.

"Barely." Haymitch objected again. "And that's if we don't have to take turns to avoid herds. I don't want to risk it."

"We need to reach Thirteen." Coin hissed, rubbing her eyes. "Plutarch told me you were opposed to Snow's government before you got fired. You must know how important it is that…"

Coin looked tired too but Effie didn't want to sympathize with her, they all were tired. She leaned against the wall outside the room and closed her eyes.

"I get that you want to get back to your rebellion before someone takes your place." Haymitch interrupted her. "But…"

"Commander Paylor is more than capable of holding fort while I am gone." Coin cut him off.

Effie wondered if those two would ever be able to have a discussion without cutting each other mid-sentence.

"Great." Haymitch spat sarcastically. "Because the way I see it, trying to move without enough gas in the dead of winter is way too dangerous. I won't risk it."

"Odair's body isn't even cold yet and you're already playing leader, aren't you?" Coin mocked. "Are your little friends aware you're taking decisions for them?"

"We wait two months." Haymitch said, without dignifying her accusation with a response. "We gather supplies, we siphon gas and we wait until we won't risk dying of exposure if we have to spend a night in a car."

"You want to wait two months with a pregnant woman on our hands?" Plutarch's voice was disbelieving. "Haymitch…"

"In two months she will be four or five months pregnant." Haymitch argued. "That leaves us plenty of time to reach your bunkers."

Effie didn't wait to hear the rest. If Haymitch had decided they were staying for two months then they were staying for two months. He knew best, after all. She wanted to make sure the children were alright but her feet took her to her own room. She felt strangely disconnected from her body, exhausted and yet still very much awake.

They couldn't live in that room in its current state for two months.

It was a stupid thought and an even more stupid idea but she still found herself reorganizing the office. She emptied the desk's drawers of their papers and filled it with their neatly folded clothes instead. She cleared shelves of the now useless files and placed the rest of their stuff on them. She moved the desk and the air mattress in a desperate attempt to get more space. It didn't work but the whole room looked different, as if it had been tilted one quarter to the left. Perhaps it was an adequate way of thinking about the rest of the world too.

She wandered to Peeta's room and knocked without getting any answer. Perhaps it wasn't very well-behaved of her to open the door anyway but she needed to be sure everyone else was alright. Peeta was fast asleep, Katniss curled up against him. There were still traces of tears on her face. Effie closed the door softly and continued her search.

She found Gale standing watch in front of the stairs, Prim asleep with her head on his shoulder, fidgeting with his gun.

"She wouldn't stop crying." he explained when he spotted Effie. "I didn't want to leave her alone and Katniss…" He shook his head and closed his eyes. "It sucks. Everything sucks."

"Language." she chided him quietly. It was a desperate attempt to get back to something familiar and it didn't work. Gale didn't even acknowledge her. "Could you carry her to her room? You should get some sleep yourself, you were on watch yesterday."

"So were you." he pointed out with a tired sigh.

The whole schedule would have to be re-arranged, the mere thought exhausted her. "I am not tired. Go to bed, Gale."

It was a lie but the teenager didn't need her to tell him twice. He handed her his gun, scooped up the child and they disappeared in the dark corridors. She sat down on the cold hard floor, almost wishing a zombie or a mutt would crept up the stairs. She realized, wearily, that underneath the numbness she didn't seem to be able to shake away, she was angry. It was a bubbling sort of anger though, one that rose only to pop and be washed away by a lack of feeling – or an overload of feelings, she wasn't sure – and then it started up again. She thought of Annie who would be left fending for herself and she felt angry at the world and at Finnick but then it felt stupid and counterproductive because the world certainly didn't care and Finnick was…

"Effie."

She startled out of her daydream, blushing when she realized she had been making a poor job at keeping watch. Haymitch and Plutarch didn't look about to tell her off though, they both looked worn over.

"Come on." Haymitch said gently. "You need sleep."

"I'm on watch." she argued, sitting straighter. She could do this at least, help her people by keeping watch… Let them sleep, take care of them, make sure they were all safe… She felt it was her job somehow.

"I will take over." Plutarch said. "It's almost my shift anyway. You need to rest."

Which really meant she needed to grieve, she thought. She hesitated but Haymitch outstretched a hand to help her up and she took it instinctively. She let go as soon as she was on her feet. If he was hurt, he didn't show it. They walked to their room in silence but it wasn't comfortable, it was tensed and awkward and she didn't understand why. He paused on the threshold, she almost walked into him.

"You redecorated." he pointed out. "I don't like it."

She squeezed past him to get inside and made a beeline for the desk. "If we are to stay for two months…"

"Who says we're staying for two months?" he interrupted her.

She heard the air mattress groan and rasp but she didn't turn, she kept rummaging in the drawer until she found clean clothes to sleep in. "You, apparently. Not that you consulted any of us on the matter."

"Eavesdropping, sweetheart?" he snorted. "I thought talking about it could wait until tomorrow or even the day after. If someone wants to leave before then, they're welcome to some of the supplies and some of the gas but it's stupid if you ask me. With this cold and the herds, it's a death warrant."

She watched him. He had shed his jacket and was taking off his boots. When he was done, he rubbed a hand against his face and then looked up at her. They stared at each other for a few minutes, her neatly folded clothes remained forgotten in her hands.

There was pain in his grey eyes, too much pain for her to handle.

"I should go and check on the others." she said suddenly, placing down the stack of clothes on the desk. "I should make sure nobody needs me."

She was almost to the door when his whisper stopped her. "I do." She turned around, unsure. "Sweetheart, I'm ten seconds away from drinking the antibacterial lotion simply because the label says alcohol." He outreached a shaking hand to her. "Come to bed."

She grabbed his hand and let him pull her on the air mattress with a frown. "This isn't that kind of alcohol. It would poison you."

"Not sure it would be so bad." he mumbled.

Effie wasn't a violent person. She really wasn't. It probably explained why Haymitch didn't see the slap coming at all. He sat there, a hand pressed against his burning cheek, a confused expression on his face.

"Don't ever say that again." she hissed. "How can you… How…" To her utmost shame, the tears she hadn't been able to shed earlier were burning her eyes now. "Finnick is dead and you…" It was the first time she said it aloud and it only made it worse. "How can you be so callous? How can you…" The sobs made her hunch over. They were inelegant, loud and so very, very painful.

He gathered her against him, tentatively at first and then more firmly. He held her while she cried and pounded his chest in turns, not sure why she even did that. She stopped crying because she was exhausted and had no more tears to shed not because she was feeling better. He grabbed a bottle of water from his backpack and forced her to drink some, then he helped her get under the blankets before laying down next to her. She felt like a ragdoll but still she clung to him like she did most nights, her head on his shoulder and a leg hooked over one of his.

"I killed him." he said and the sentence seemed to echo in the dark room. "His throat was… He was… I killed him." His voice cracked but she knew he wouldn't cry. Haymitch never cried, not even when he woke up from his nightmares screaming himself hoarse.

If he expected her to shudder or feel something akin to disgust, he was mistaken. She wasn't horrified. He had only done what she had asked him to do for her if the situation warranted it.

"Mutts killed him." she whispered. That was what Johanna had said.

"I still pulled the trigger, sweetheart." he objected. He shifted against her, she felt his chest rise and then deflate under her hand, the arm that wasn't around her was thrown on his eyes even though there was no light to block.

"You spared him a more painful death or worse, he could have turned." she argued. "It was kind." It didn't make him feel better, she knew. He didn't say anything more on the subject but he dropped a kiss on her head and held her tighter. "I feel horrible too. All the time I was sitting with Annie… All I could think about was thank God, it was not Haymitch. I'm a horrible person."

She buried her face in his shoulder but his hand brushed her cheek, trailed to her chin and nudged it gently until she lifted her head so he could kiss her. It was the soft sort of kiss, the one that usually only followed near-death situations, the one that let her know he cared about her a little more than he claimed out loud. His mouth wandered to her neck and his hands sneaked under her sweater slowly, almost hesitantly, giving her plenty of time to say no. She didn't. She pulled his shirt and undershirt over his head and threw them in the corner before guiding his face up so she could kiss him again.

She should have felt guilty, she mused as he dealt with her clothes, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake. She should have been mourning for their lost friend and not… But when Haymitch nudged her legs apart, she realized that it was what she needed. Haymitch. The comforting weight of his body on hers, his breath catching in her ear, the dark spark of lust in his grey eyes when she cradled his head in her hands and guided his mouth on hers again…

It was the difference between having sex and making love, she thought. That night wasn't about pleasure but about being there.

"I'm not sure where we go from here." he confessed later.

"We carry on." she shrugged. What other choice did they have?

"Yeah." he sighed. "I guess."

"Eyes bright, chins up, smiles on." she murmured bitterly. "The others need us."

That was what one of her designers used to say when she complained about aching feet or dresses that wouldn't let her breathe properly. It didn't matter that you were in pain, people should never know.

Never let them see the damages.