On a single hand Effie could count the number of times she and Haymitch were physically in the same room over the last week and a half. And on a single finger she could count the time they made eye contact. It was horrible, the loneliness and the palpable tension. Silence was eerie on the District 12 floor. So much so that Effie couldn't bear staying there for long.
Preparation had started for the crowning of the newest Victor as the last three tributes remained. The girl from 2, the boy from 1 and the girl from 12. No one knew how the girl was still alive. Narrowly escaping attack after attack. Hiding so cleverly in the cave. Weaving little traps that helped her gain some leverage. It was only hours or so as everyone expected that the gamemakers would push the tributes into the finale.
Effie hurried to the elevator to watch the last few hours of the game before night fell and the anthem played in the arena. The tension and fear of the little girl's death had Effie teetering on a perilous ledge of heartbreak. She just couldn't pretend to smile or carry on in Capitol extravagance.
In the quiet comfort of her room she could watch the last hours of the day on her tablet and feel free to voice her hidden emotions. She watched in silent horror as the mutts drove the three tributes through the tunnels. Surging the kids toward the epicenter of 72nd game, the cornucopia. It would be a 3 way duel to the bloody end. She could practically hear all of Panem stating the horrific obvious. Those careers would mutilate the District 12 girl in seconds. I strangled cry escaped her thinly pressed lips. The Careers smirked with devilish delight as they all descended into the center. The little girl, Molly. Poor little Molly. Effie had to do something. Sponsor her. Haymitch had sponsors still. She had to give that little girl something more than a knife against two trained killers.
Her stomach pitted as she shoved her feet into her shoes and hurried out the door. There he was, sprawled on the couch watching the game in the living area. A glistening glass of amber liquid. His face was unreadable. "Where are you off too? It's nearly midnight."
God her face, the sheer look of agony. Haymitch knew he had to stop her. She wouldn't do any good making a scene of this. She was too attached, way too attached to the little girl. Haymitch had come to terms with the girl's death way before the games. The boy was harder on him. He had hope for the boy. Effie went all wrong with learning their names. Haymitch stuck to use of pronouns to protect himself from unnecessary trauma.
"How can you sit there?" Effie said shrilly. "There's still time. I can get her a weapon. There's still time!" Oh Effie, how wrong you were. The gamemakers had that cannon marked for the girl hours ago. Haymitch knew that. They probably kept her alive for the excitement of an underdog getting so far. They'd let her be ripped apart just as the poor thing tasted hope.
At that Haymitch stood up, intent on stopping her. Knowing fully it would end badly. Of the things he learned over the week in his decreased state of drunkenness, it was that Effie would regret acting out due to her over attachment. She'd embarrass herself and he'd much rather deal with her tears now than her self-inflicted criticism and over sensitivity when she's humiliated herself. For an old drunkard he moved quickly and blocked her access to the elevator.
Effie wasn't having it, "No! Move. You may have given up on her, but I haven't!" Effie tried to wedge herself past him.
He didn't have to try very hard to reel her back into the room. Each step he took with her made her control crumble more. Effie pushed against him and tried to pull away. Her struggles for fruitless and left her being easy manhandled by Haymitch. "I've done all I can, Effie. No sponsorship gift in this nation will get to her on time. It'll be a waste."
"That is such a lie, Haymitch Abernathy and you know it!" Effie said lowly, her heartbreak turning her to insults. "You didn't do anything! You did nothing!"
He stopped and gripped her upper arms firmly, "You wouldn't know what I've done this week. So stop fighting me, swee…" He was cut off by Effie jerking her arm free.
"If you call me sweetheart, so help me god I will smack you!" She moved for the elevator again. He must have drank so much he was just numb. He had to be drunk to tolerate watching an innocent girl about to be slaughtered. Effie couldn't even bear to look at the screen in the adjoining room.
"You say that like it would hurt me, sweetheart." He couldn't help but laugh she was all of maybe 100 pounds soaking wet. Maybe with a good wig a few pounds more. In the background the screaming had started from one of the tributes. A good guess it was the one Effie didn't want to hear.
"No…" Her eyes widened. Haymitch gripped her harder, in fear that she'd run and do something stupid. Yell at a gamemaker, run her mouth and get the wrong people's attention. He was doing it for her good, even if it'd make her hate him more. "No…" Her voice absolutely cracked. Tears blossomed in her eyes and she tried to cover her ears. "Turn it off! Please, turn it off!"
Haymitch stiffened gauging her. Would she run if he moved to turn it off or would she just stay there and accept what was inevitably going to happen. "If I move, you stay put." He said gruffly. Leerily letting go of her and stepping just a little away. Watching her for any sign she'd bolt.
Effie did run, but not in the direction he expected. She turned for her room and slammed the door. Haymitch sighed and turned the tv off. It was one hell of a bloody fight, the girl wasn't dead, and the careers were as roughed up as she was. Haymitch was so used to defeat. He had seen every manner of gruesome death. He had known the sting of crushed hope that Effie was experiencing. She was young and she'd learn to become hardened like him. She was still new to her position in the games, barely 3 years under her belt. Did she cry like this the last few years? He never heard her carry on like this. There had to be more to it.
"Effie…" He opened her door. It was silent, and he had expected sobbing. Silent tears seemed worse or was she not even crying yet? He did what only felt natural to him, he poured two drinks. God knew he needed one and Effie didn't know she needed one. She was curled on her bed, her back to him. Her chest rose and felt at uneven rates.
"Go away." She sniffled. She wanted to be alone and left to her onslaught of emotions. Alone and away from his judging eyes.
"You know deep down you don't want me too." He sat on her bed much to her dismay. "Drink this." He pressed the cold glass into her hand. "Don't think about it just drink… now." He expected her to protest, but Effie Trinket drained the glass of whiskey and subsequently coughed. Exclaiming about the horrid taste and fanning her cheeks as she flushed.
"What happened?" He prodded now that she somehow seemed more approachable. He watched her roll over and still face away from him.
"Seneca Crane. You don't like him, and you think you've got.." She started into him.
"Not him!" Haymitch cut her off. "I mean what happened between you and the girl."
"Her name is Molly!" Effie fired back at him, oh the whiskey gave her ferocity. He poured another drink for her. Pushing the glass toward her hand again.
His eyes softened, "That's where you went wrong. You're new. I get that. If you're going to survive here you've got to distance yourself."
"Distance myself to what? The nearest bottle of booze?" She chugged the liquor and fidgeted with the empty glass.
He deserved that comment, "I'm not the only Victor to drink in excess. Each one of us has the crutch that gets us through. For some its booze, others is pills and elixirs, and morphling." Some Victors had it worse than him.
Effie had fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. On the corner of her bed was her tablet. Blinking the feared red. The girl was dead. Haymitch sighed and kicked the tablet to the floor. "Hey, look over here." He said quickly.
Effie whimpered and cried into her hands. "She was a baby. She barely lived. I should have moved my hand over. I wanted to pick from the right but I went for the left. I could have spared her! I could have picked someone else. She was so sweet, too young."
And there it was, what he figured was hiding inside her. The destroying guilt. He set his glass down and gently put his hand on her shaking shoulder. He dealt with that guilt for 15 years before he hardened himself against it. "Picking another girl wouldn't have made you feel any better. Chances are, Effie, there will be more 12 year olds. It's not fair and you're right, but do realize what can happen if you don't get a grip? If they see you fall apart like this, they'll kill you. They don't want you falling to pieces over tributes. They want you to smile and call the names. If you can't do that, they'll find something else you can do. I doubt this is the type of job you can quit." He said softly.
Effie retreated into her mind and fell silent in agony. She wasn't crying so heavily anymore. It was a steady pain that just burned on. Haymitch frowned, "Don't shut down either. I can't tease a robot."
Effie's eyes hurt and her head ached already, "You're an ass, Haymitch." She said lowly.
"I'm an ass who hasn't had more than 4 drinks in a single day in almost 2 weeks.." He offered that hoping it would make her happier. As much as it pained him to hold some fondness for her, he wanted to let her know he felt badly and was trying for her sake to change. It wasn't easy when all he wanted was to drain the bottle on the stand.