Sorry about the long wait! My life schedule's been insane but here it is, finally. An extra long sorta angsty chapter full of smut to make up for it. I hope you like it!
Chapter 20
Broken promises
"'ey! 'ey, Abernathy boys!"
It was Boris. He sat on his porch. Shielded from the sleet he motioned the two brothers over. Amadeus clutched Haymitch's hand but Haymitch wasn't afraid and he didn't move any closer.
"What do you want?" he shouted at the big-bellied man. Boris smirked and had another swig from his bottle.
"Don't scowl so much, kid or your face will stay that way. Come over here, why don't ya?"
He wasn't alone on the bench, Haymitch noticed, but then again he seldom was. Boris and his wife were vile and yet they never lacked company. In Springtime when the Games drew closer like a noose around your throat their kitchen grew very popular.
From this distance Haymitch saw little more than a head of blonde hair, hung low between his knees. A towner. Dead drunk. The man had probably done some work on the house, maybe fixed the plumbing. Boris always paid them in drink.
People said he bribed the lower ranked peacekeepers on patrol and that's why he never got into trouble himself but many of the coal miners he hired had ended up on the whipping post because of him.
They owned a business; course these days it fell mostly on their daughter to keep it up and running. She moved out just a few months ago to live with her cousin's family.
At fourteen Rooba could barely read and write but she was strong as an ox, quick-witted and more than equipped to handle the hard work alone.
But in theory, Boris was still the town's butcher. Which meant he and Frieda had a few coins to spare. And what they spent them on was white liquor.
The first time Haymitch heard the name he imagined something like goat's milk. He also thought it was nice of Mr. Boris to give all those people something to drink.
But when he told ma, Helena's eyes blackened and she said with a voice as sharp as a knife's edge that it was not nice and you stay away from them, Haymitch!
And Helena's six year old had far too much on his plate to care about the butcher and his wife. The only real encounter he had with them, before the day in the rain with his brother, happened purely by accident.
It was a clear, warm Saturday morning. Pa worked the mines and ma worked on a new dress for the mayor's sister-in-law. Pieces of fabric were spread out all over the house and Haymitch took the opportunity to sneak out the door.
The dandelions had all bloomed over and Haymitch had a grand time blowing on the seeds. He giggled, watching them fly all over the district.
Absorbed by this new game he hardly saw where he was going. He didn't realize how close he was until he was practically in the butcher's back garden.
His eyes homed in on another dandelion, the biggest one yet. It swayed in the soft breeze and Haymitch scurried over to get it when a loud groan stopped him in his tracks.
Boris sat on his creaky old porch bench and Frieda sat on his lap. Their mouths moved with wet sucking sounds and the butcher's hand was buried so deep inside her blouse you couldn't even see it. Haymitch stared, too shocked to look away.
What are they doing?
He'd never seen people act this way. His own parents hardly ever kissed on the cheek. He wanted to run away but it was like he was frozen to the spot, disgusted and fascinated at the same time.
And that's when the butcher noticed him. Eyebrows lifted, he let go of Frieda's mouth with a loud pop and flashed him a grin filled with broken, black teeth.
"I think we have an audience, hun."
Frieda turned around and Haymitch got sight of a large brown nipple before she shifted the dress and it was gone again.
"My, it Dom's kid," she said. "Little Mitchie Abernathy."
"Haymitch," said Haymitch. "And I'm almost seven."
Frieda chuckled.
"I could toss you over me shoulder."
"Naw, don't be too hard on him", Boris said. "He'll grow into his shoes, I bet. You're gonna grow big and strong, won't you kid?"
Haymitch nodded.
"Come here." He waved him over with his free hand, the one not around Frieda.
"You know what this is?" Boris asked and picked up a bottle from the table. The liquid at the bottom of it caught the sunlight. Clear and see-through. Nothing like goat's milk.
"This is a drink for champions," Boris said and Frieda suppressed a laugh. "Only the big boys and gals drink it. Why don't you have a sip?"
Haymitch looked between the grownups' grinning faces, to the bottle and back again. He shook his head.
"And here I thought you was a brave, young man," Boris said. "Like your father. You wanna be like your father, don't you? And he ain't scared of nuthin now, is he?"
Haymitch swallowed and looked at the bottle again.
"Take a whiff", said Boris and held it out to him. "Won't kill ya."
"Not fast anyway," Frieda snickered.
Haymitch took a tentative step forward.
"That's a good boy," Boris said. His runny nose and cheeks were covered in a web of broken blood vessels. The stink of sweat and booze made Haymitch grimace and yet he took another step. He leaned in to smell it.
And Frieda's hands shot out, like a viper. Haymitch shrieked when she grabbed him. He tried to fend for himself but her hand locked around his jaw and Boris flung the liquor into his mouth.
Fire. Liquid fire.
Haymitch sputtered and coughed and they had already let him go, laughing their heads off. He retched and choked and gasped with his hands clutched against his throat. Tears streamed down his eyes and nose. Most of the drink he spat out but enough still got inside and it hurt hurt hurt!
All this time the butcher and his wife laughed and slapped their knees and blinded by tears Haymitch ran off.
He didn't tell his parents what happened. He hid in the Meadow and they never found out. In the week that followed they couldn't help but notice something bothered him though, used as they were to their boy's never-ending chatter.
So one day when father and son walked home from town, Dom asked him what was the matter.
And Haymitch voiced the question which had nettled him ever since the encounter with the butcher.
"Why do people drink stuff that hurts them?"
Dom looked at his young boy, dumbfounded at first, but Haymitch held firmly on to his big hand with his little one. He wanted an answer. Dom wet his lips. How did you explain such things to a six year old? Finally he said,
"Because they want to forget. You know, how you sometimes get really scared or really sad about something. So scared and sad you just don't want to think about it anymore. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah."
"Well, big people have all those feelings too. They get frightened and sad and unhappy and some of them might turn to drink. It's not a good way. But for some it's the only way."
Haymitch pondered this a moment.
"So fire drink makes 'em forget?"
Dom nodded.
"For a time." After a moment's pause he added, "Problem is they forget everything else as well."
"Like what?"
"Their spouses. Their children. People who depend on them."
They were almost home now. Smoke rose from the chimneys.
Haymitch thought about the time the peacekeepers hung those two men on the square. Ma had pressed his face into her side when it happened so he wouldn't see it but he still heard everything and afterwards he woke screaming from nightmares.
But then pa was there and he rocked him and sang to him and talked to him until his tears dried. He couldn't forget it but he dared to go back to sleep again because he knew nothing could ever harm him as long as they were here.
Ma and pa helped him better than a fire drink every could.
He wrapped his skinny arms around his father's middle and gave him a hard, tight squeeze.
"I don't ever wanna forget you, pa," he said. "Or ma or baby Amadeus or grandpa. Not ever!"
"That's good, Haymitch," Dom said and gave him a one armed hug. He took his hand. "Let's get you home now. Ma's waiting."
"So, how's it gonna be?" Boris shouted, since he got no answer to his first question.
"What?" Haymitch yelled back. Snow trickled inside his nape. They were both chilled to the bones. All he wanted was to get his brother home and warm him up. "What'cha want?"
In answer, Boris gave his drinking buddy a firm kick.
"I need ya to get this lout off my porch," he said. "If you don't want the peacekeepers to get to him first."
Haymitch's gaze went back to the drunk.
And it hit him. Hit him like a kick in the guts.
The man on the porch was pa!
But it couldn't be pa. Pa never drank and especially not with someone like Boris! He wouldn't! Haymitch saw him leave for the mines this morning, single-minded and stubborn as ever, despite the fact it was ages ago since they last hired him.
Was that it then? They wouldn't give him work so he wound up at the butcher's instead?
He turned to his brother.
"Stay here."
Amadeus whimpered but Haymitch gently prised off his fingers.
Boris's stomach jumped up and down with silent chuckles watching the boy try to rouse his father.
Dom was big, far too big for a young boy. He hardly noticed what happed around him and careed to the sides like his body was fluid. Haymitch had to put his heels in to yank him straight each time.
"Help me!" he cussed at the butcher but Boris just held up his palms.
"Gotta fight your own battles, kid."
"Go get ma!" Haymitch called to his brother. Amadeus sobbed but he nodded and ran off. "Pa, sit up straight! Hold on to the bench. No, here. Hold on!"
All the commotion had brought Frieda to the door. She stood in the golden light and dried her hands on an already dirty apron.
"Not so self-righteous now, are we, hm?" she said. "Mr. Domeric 'Larger than life' Abernathy."
"Violet! Violet!" grandpa bawled from his bed when Amadeus held opened the door for his mother and brother. They carried pa inside, propped up between them. Dom all but snugged on his own feet and slurred the same thing over and over again.
"I'm sorry, Len. I'm sorry."
With joint efforts Helena and Haymitch sat pa on the sofa bed.
"The bucket," Helena told her youngest and not a moment too soon.
Amadeus clutched Haymitch as their father hurl his guts into it, with Helena beside him holding him upright.
Arms around the bucket Dom looked up at his two sons. Amadeus with eyes swollen from crying and Haymitch who showed no mercy.
"My boys." Tears and spit and vomit dripped down his chin. "My good boys."
That's all he managed before a fresh wave of nausea made him disappear into the bucket again.
"Poor daddy," whispered Amadeus. Haymitch wrapped his arm around him, watching this blubbering stranger who just looked like his father.
Their family hungered. They could hardly keep warm. Ma cared for grandpa practically 24 hours a day and the rest of the family too for that matter. She worked well into the night with her weak eyes ringed in black. Amadeus's feet were often bluish with cold when they got home from school and they couldn't afford to warm even a single bottle of water for the icy-cold covers. Grandpa Harold he was just skin-covered bones.
Pa should spend all day, every day thinking up solutions for these problems just like he, Haymitch, did. Ways to keep their family alive. Not wallow in self-pity with Twelve's biggest drunk!
They all needed him and pa chose to forget.
Tears burned Haymitch's eyes but he rubbed them away and with his arm around Amadeus's small frame he promised himself there and then that he would never ever drink.
xXx
The sun had yet to rise when the train pulled into District Twelve's station. All the doors opened and a blast of wind danced with Effie's coat.
She lifted her bag out on to the platform and the crisp morning had her teeth clatter within seconds.
Twelve's winters never disappointed. No matter how bundled up she was, the cold always found a way inside, into her very bones.
It was good though, to finally be off the train and breathe some fresh air. She felt so terribly queasy. Normally she never got travel-sick but this time her stomach had made somersault after somersault ever since they left the Capitol.
Of course, the prospect of seeing Haymitch again wasn't helping.
He never returned her calls. At first she told herself he was just being Haymitch and wanted to torment her with his silence. I wouldn't be the first time, that's for sure.
But deep down she knew he probably didn't even hear the ring because he lay around the house while empties piled up around him. Especially now with the children gone.
Katniss and Peeta knew nothing about their mentor and escort's latest problems. She got a call through to them right before they left for District 4 and it was obvious Haymitch had kept his mouth shut. Which was good. The children had enough to deal with on their own, especially Katniss.
With no other light than starlight for guidance Effie walked the road to the Victor's Village.
All around, the snow lay deep but some kind soul, probably Nella's father, had cleared a path right up to Haymitch's door.
There were no lights in his windows and oh, how sad and empty the Village looked without the children there to keep it alive. She stamped the snow from her feet and pushed inside his door.
The first thing she spotted was her own letter, unopened on the floor. The house was bitter cold. You could hardly tell the difference from outside. She turned the lights on and didn't even bat an eyelid at the mess before her.
She found him in the bedroom, snoring under an old blanket that was crusted over with days old vomit. There were wine bottles everywhere. A large, red stain of it bloomed over the foot of the bed and all the sheets were stripped off the mattress.
Downstairs her fire was slowly warming up the house but it was scary how icy his hands were when she carefully extracted the knife from his fingers. She got rid of the nasty blanket and covered him with one of her own thick comforters instead.
It hurt to see him like this and yet she knew she wouldn't have been able to stay away even an hour longer. Her hands went to the buttons of her dress, she let the clothes fall where they fell and climbed into bed with him in nothing but goose bumps.
Some part of him must have sensed her there for Haymitch pulled her closer in his sleep. He was filthy and unkempt but she didn't care. She burrowed into him and for the first time in a long while Effie felt like she could breathe again.
She didn't know how long she slept. It felt like years. When she finally came to the sun was up and there was Haymitch, propped up on his elbow.
He looked even more terrible in daylight. Face red and bloated from drink, eyes so blood-shot he could be something straight out of a horror movie.
If it wasn't for the soft and tender look in them.
"Mornin', sweetheart."
Effie drew a breath.
"I think we're well beyond morning now."
Haymitch smiled. She leaned in to close the gap between them.
"I wouldn't," he warned her. "Tastes like something died in my mouth."
She kissed him anyway. His lips were dry and chapped and just as warm and steady as she remembered. Their foreheads touched and he cupped her cheek.
"Let's get the fuck outta here."
Down at Sae's, lunch was in full swing. The last few days' great snowfall had kept most people at home if they could help it. Now they stood in groups or sat at the tables, talking and laughing and catching up over a bowl of butternut squash soup.
Haymitch's hair was wet and dripping from the shower. On any other day he would have put his coins down on Ripper's counter by now and his headache would be but a memory.
Instead he stirred a cup of coffee which was pretty much the only thing he could stomach at the moment.
Effie on the other hand ate like she hadn't seen food in days. She was already on her second plate and leave it to Effie Trinket to be able to stuff her face with perfect table manners.
Things were almost normal again. Throughout the meal she talked about this and that like usual and he listened with one ear, just like usual.
Her reddish hair was pulled back in an elegant bun with silly little butterfly pins all over. You could take Effie out of the Capitol but you couldn't quite take the Capitol out of Effie. She would always love to dress up. Or "dress down" like she had today - at least in her book.
Course, it didn't mattered what she looked like. Even if she went all midlife crisis on him and started wearing wigs and killer fang heels again it wouldn't change anything. Not to him.
He almost thought she was a dream when he felt her in his arms this morning. And he had laid there with his eyes closed and didn't move an inch, just tried to make his sleep last longer because the moment he woke for real he knew she'd be gone, like mist.
Yeah. Effie could say, be or sport whatever and she would still be his sweetheart. Now and always.
Haymitch drew a silent sigh.
He just wished she felt the same way about him.
"Oh, I didn't order this," Effie said when Sae returned to get her plate and set another dish in front of her. Homemade apple pie and a scoop of ice cream.
"Don't worry," she said. "It's on Haymitch."
"It is?" Haymitch said. "She makes more money than I do." But he was talking to her back. Effie chuckled.
"I always liked her", she said. "And she read my mind." She helped herself with a spoonful. "Oh, this is good!"
Haymitch watched the old woman write down orders by another table. Call him crazy but he suspected Sae knew about their little escapade out in the woods. Not because they were seen. If they were, they would have known it.
No, more like she put two and two together when Effie sought him out at the Hob.
And the scolding she gave him! Shit. The old crone sure knew how to lay down the law, without even raising her voice. It didn't matter what he said or how harsh and unfair he thought she was.
In that respect she and ma were birds of a feather. Helena Abernathy would have needed years to accept a woman like Effie in her son's life but just like Sae, she wouldn't stand for it, if he treated her badly.
Haymitch's house was a dump. They didn't go back there straight away and unlike their mentor, Katniss and Peeta always kept their home clean and tidy whether they expected guests or not.
Sleeping all through mid-morning had done little to refresh Effie.
"You don't mind if I have a lie-down, do you?" she asked and hid a yawn behind her hand. "The journey was exhausting."
Once he got a fire going he joined her on the couch. Just lifted her feet up and rested them against his lap, hand cupped around her ankle.
Blissful silence was over the room. Effie rested. Haymitch read the newspaper and all around them was warmth and tranquillity and no other sounds but the crackle in the fireplace, the soft rustle of paper.
Minutes later when he looked up, about to comment on something he just read, Effie's eyes were shut tight. Brows creased together she lay on her side with her hand against her tummy, breathing in and out, slowly and silently.
"Need a bucket?"
She looked up and managed a numb smile.
"It's fine."
"You shouldn't eat like a horse, princess."
"Oh, I'm know, Haymitch. Don't be smart."
She lay down on her back with another tremendous yawn.
"Whatever you do, don't let me doze off again, OK? It completely disrupt my sleep schedule."
So of course, not five minutes later she was out. Haymitch could always tell when she was sleeping, from the slight jerks and movements she made, much like a dog.
With each passing minute, the newspaper lost more and more of its appeal. Once sure she wouldn't wake anytime soon, he put it down completely.
And fished out the silver hip flask from its home in his pants pocket.
xXx
Effie slept and Haymitch made good use of his respite, in more than one way. The sun had set but the stores in town where still open.
So when Effie walked into his house hours later, she found it warm and clean, the floors still wet and not a single bottle anywhere.
Haymitch stood by the stove. He stirred a bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and from the rich, mouth-watering smell it wasn't hard to imagine what it was.
Without the heels on Effie only just managed to rest her chin against his shoulder when she wrapped her arms around him.
"Need any help?"
Haymitch shook his head.
"Almost done here."
She saw another bowl sitting on the counter filled with orange berries the size of a cherry.
"That's the 'strawberries'", Haymitch said.
"Mm?"
"Yeah, they didn't have any. So it's gonna be chocolate covered … whatever the hell that is."
Effie smiled.
"Golden berries'."
"Mm-hm. Just enough for one person."
"Just one?" Effie mused.
"Yeah. You've already eaten for three, Effs. Now I'm gonna have a nice time for a change."
Effie smiled into his skin. Her hands made a little trip over his shirt and he found himself buttoned down.
"Me doin' chores around the house turns you on, huh?"
"Little bit." She dropped a kiss to his neck. "I saw the tree. Had I known, I would have brought my Christmas ornaments. They are old but very fancy."
"Yeah? Like you?" he asked, a little out of breath for now her hands were on his belt buckle and each little tug sent sweet chills through his body.
"Oh, darling." She slipped her hand inside his pants, his underpants. Closed around him she moved up and down, just once, teasingly. "Don't be rude. Or do you want me to… stop?"
"No," Haymitch groaned.
Sweet lord, was she good at this! He thrust into her hand as she pleased him. Somewhere in a different world the saucepan boiled over, hissing from the heat and he would follow its example soon enough. He never lasted long when she did this to him.
"Why don't you come. You know you want to," Effie whispered in his ear, moving her hand up and down, up and down. "Come, Haymitch."
Goddamn bossy woman!
That's what he wanted to say but only groans came out. He clutched the edge of the kitchen counter, panting hard. So close. He felt her own breathing shallow and quick against his skin and how she pressed herself to him. "Come, Haymitch. Now."
Spewing profanities, Haymitch made himself pull her hand out of his pants. Before she knew it he hauled Effie up onto the kitchen counter. Tresses of hair had escaped her once neat bun and the sight of it turned him on even more. He kissed her with an unrestrained hunger, his body now between her legs, her arms around his neck.
They didn't bother with the rest of their clothes. Haymitch only bunched her dress up over her hips and Effie got to show just how agile she could be.
It was messy and clumsy and unrefined and Effie who was a prisoner of etiquette, loved every second of it.
Haymitch worked her to blissful release so quickly it was ridiculous and the mere fact they were all alone - no risk of the children walking in, was so freeing Effie made the windows rattle when she came.
Haymitch followed right on cue. With her body wrapped around his he couldn't hold back to save his life or save the kitchen counter, for that matter. Another thrust and it poured out of him and into her until he had nothing left and his knees were so weak they felt like spaghetti.
The bowl of melted chocolate hopped about in the boiling water. Haymitch pulled away slightly to lift the saucepan away from the hotplate and turn the heat off. He looked at Effie. Her hands remained against his shoulders and he gave her a loop-sided smile.
Before he knew it she pulled him straight back into her arms. It happened so suddenly he slumped forward and burned his pinkie on the stove.
"Ow!" he yelped but Effie didn't even seem to notice. She clung to him and not in passion this time. "Eff? You OK?"
Effie nodded but she didn't let go of him. He felt how tense she was, as if struck by some terrible thought. Haymitch sucked on his throbbing finger, perplexed by this sudden turn. He patted her back but when he tried to pull away again he was still trapped in her embrace.
"Effs, you're choking me."
"I'm sorry," she said and let go immediately. "I'm sorry."
The pleasure had painted roses on her cheeks. Effie always looked drop dead gorgeous right after she came. But now her face was troubled and distraught and she kept smoothing the creases out of his collars, like always when she felt self-conscious.
He leaned in and kissed the crease between her eyebrows, once, twice, three times, until it disappeared.
"Want some of them 'strawberries' now?" he asked.
Effie nodded.
"Yes, please."
They brought the treat upstairs. Haymitch fed more coal to the fire and the bedroom was so heavenly warm, not even Effie shivered when she slipped out of her clothes.
"It's really coming down out there," she said when they lay under the covers. The window panes were covered in white, the air just a whirl of snowflakes. "You know, it reminds me of the Christmas when I got my first pair of ice skates." She reached over his chest and plucked a golden berry. "Did I ever tell you?" she asked and dipped it in chocolate.
"No, but I bet it's a fascinating story."
"Well," she said and bit into her dessert. "It was Christmas morning. I was seven years old and…"
Haymitch's head slumped forward. His throat rumbled with fake snores.
"Hey!" Effie said and slapped his shoulder but she was laughing. "Be nice, Haymitch or else I might not sleep with you tonight."
"Yeah, well, you will." He helped himself with a golden berry and dunked it in chocolate. "Oops," he said and purposefully spilt on her breast. He kissed it off her with loud, wet smacks and Effie chuckled. His beard tickled her.
"Haymitch Abernathy is so dreamy he gets away with anything? Is that it?"
"You said it, sweetheart. Not me."
Smiling, Effie rolled over so she lay on top of him, skin against skin. A drip of chocolate remained on his bottle lip and she caught it with her tongue.
"So," Haymitch said when they parted. "What did lil' Euphemia do? After she got the infamous first pair of skates?"
"Little Euphemia wanted to try her ice skates right away. We were expected at a big Christmas celebration so mother said I couldn't and I was a good girl all day. But once we were back home I just couldn't resist any longer. So I tip-toed out of bed and got my skates from under the Christmas tree. When the police finally found me I was wobbling around Mr and Mrs. Tennyson's duck pond."
Haymitch grinned.
"So I wasn't the first one to be dumped on Trinket's doorstep by the police, after all?"
"You were not."
He sought her lips in another kiss. A butterfly pin jutted out from her ruined hairdo and he unclasped it and set it on the nightstand.
"When you goin' back to Hellhole?"
"Mid January. Before the new term begins." She intertwined her fingers against his chest and leaned her chin on top of them. "You know, Haymitch, if you came with me we could sex each other up for 23 hours."
"I like it that you have such faith in me," Haymitch said and made a face. No matter how she put it, the prospect of a Capitol visit wasn't a turn on.
"Suppose you couldn't just leave me this when you go?" he asked and grabbed her ass.
"Pig," she said fondly. He rolled them both over so he was now the one on top. "And I understand, Haymitch, if you'd rather stay in District 12," she said and he knew she meant it honestly. "I'll always come back. You are certainly worth the wait."
She closed the gap between them and Haymitch screwed his eyes shut.
He never felt more exposed as when they were together. It was like she held his heart in her hand and all she had to do was give it a tight squeeze and he would succumb and bleed out.
She kissed him and not just once, not just his lips but again and again on different places on his face.
It was the closest he'd been to feeling loved in a very long time.
xXx
The next few days flew by. Snow fell, endlessly. District 12 was all but burried in it and apart from the occasional goose checkup the former mentor and escort were happy to spend their days alone, cooped up at the house.
Even Effie threw out her schedule and lived in the moment for a change. Wasn't anything exciting to do out here anyways, not in this weather.
It was a good life.
They bickered and made love. Then they bickered some more and made love some more. No real surprises, which, considering what life had served Haymitch so far, was nothing but a relief.
This was how he wanted to live all his days. In Effie's arms he felt a kind of peace and happiness he found nowhere else. She brought light into his life. As long as she was around it was never quite as dark.
Effie's big big big day was practically at their doorstep. They decided, well, Effie decided they would eat the dinner down at the Hob. Not that Haymitch minded. Neither of them were great chefs and Sae's Christmas menu was great. They would spend the rest of the day here and that would be it.
"I actually look forward to a more quiet Christmas this year," Effie said. "Our first Christmas together."
Course, it didn't stop her from putting up shit all over his house. She sneaked it up, one item at a time, like he wouldn't notice he suddenly had an orange studded with clove hanging in the window or a snowglobe for a bookend.
One morning he woke to find her dressing the tree to the nines.
"It's coming up nicely, don't you think?" she smiled over her shoulder and hung a tiny paper angel on one of the branches. He recogniced the box at her feet, forced upon him by Peeta last year.
Yeah, the tree was dressed. Effie on the other hand, not so much. She wore nothing but an oversized cardigan that barely covered her ass.
"Better close your mouth, Haymitch. You're drowling all over the carper," she said and her eyes were a glitter of blue. He walked up to her and she pecked his lips when he wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"It's like I have two homes," she said and admired her work. "I'm so lucky."
"I love what you go on," Haymitch said and brushed the hem of the cardigan between his thumb and forefinger. "Been looking for it for like a year. Stealing's bad manners, isn't it, sweetheart?"
"I didn't steal it," Effie protested.
"It just fell into your suitcase by accident?"
"I borrowed it! I enjoy wearing it from time to time when I'm home alone."
"Really?" he said. "That's interesting. Wait til I tell the kids, their fancy, old escort likes to wear my smelly rags in her spare time."
"You will do no such thing!" Effie gasped. "And I am not old. If I'm old then what are you?"
"It's alright, Eff", he said and slipped his hands inside the cardigan with ease. "You're simply not as prim and proper and well-behaved as you have people think."
"Oh, you infuriating man," she said but it was half-hearted. Hand splayed out across her tummy he softly pressed her to him while the other one went on exploring.
"Been awhile since we did it under a tree," he mumbled into her hair. He brushed his fingers feather light against one of her nipples and smiled at how easy it got erect. He cupped it completely and Effie groaned. "Don't you agree?"
She nodded numbly and craned her neck so their lips met. He gently stroked and squeezed her and Effie whimpered with want.
"What time is it?"
"Somewhere you need to be?" he mumbled and brushed his lips to hers.
"Definitely not," she said. "But I must take my pill first."
It took every ounce of his will to let her go but he knew he had to, of course. Reckon he should know by now she always took the pill this time of day and yet he could never keep track of it.
"So, where are they?"
"In my purse," Effie said. "On the nightstand, I think."
He disappeared up the stairs and Effie drew a deep, trembling breath. She fanned herself with both hands in her way into the kitchen to pour herself some water.
Minutes later, she heard the thunder down the stairs.
"It's alright," Effie said and set the empty glass back in the drainer. "My purse was on the…"
Her voice faltered, startled by his face.
"What's the matter?"
And then she saw the pamphlets.
"'Stop using and start living'?" Haymitch's voice quivered from barely contained anger. "'Rethink before you drink?' 'Don't fight your battles alone?'"
Effie wet her lips and met his gaze.
"I was just doing some research."
"On what exactly?" His voice rung through the kitchen. "What've you been up to?"
"I wanted to know more, that's all. About…"
"How to get me committed?"
"Not at all!"
"So you just happened to walk by this cozy little Capitol facility and thought you'd check it out for fun? And now the entire city's gonna be buzzing 'bout me going in to rehab?"
"I got those pamphlets through Annabel. She doesn't gossip."
"That's not the point!" He was shouting now. "How could you do this to me, Eff!? How'd you feel if I tried to lock you up in the loony bin? That's why you came here in the first place? You thought if you just buttered me up then I'd…"
"No!" Effie cried. "No, of course not!"
"I won't go! Over my dead body. And you don't walk into my house and start manipulating me and go behind my back cause you get a kick out of fixing people up or whatever! I'm not yours to…"
"Do you think I have a choice!?" Effie yelled, voice shrill from despair. "Who else is going to fight for you? Not you, certainly! Everyone just leaves you at the mercy of that poison. There are other ways!"
"Yeah, sure," Haymitch snarled. "You read a few pamphlets so now you're an expert and my life's been nothing but a breeze. I just need to get over myself and if it doesn't work we can just lock me up and throw away the key."
"That is not what I…"
"I don't care! People don't get to decide for me! I had enough of that, Eff! And I didn't ask you to come here so if we're just gonna do this dance all over again I think you should just leave. This isn't doing any of us any good."
It was so quiet after he finished you could hear a pin drop. Effie watched Haymitch's thunderous face and her lips were pressed to not-existence from the lump in her throat.
"Oh, and don't use the crying card like you always do!"
"I'm not!" Effie shrieked. She snatched the pamphlets from his hand and tossed them in the trash. "By all means, Haymitch, drink! Drink all you have!" She pushed past him and was gone. He followed into the hallway only to see her come back down the stairs with her clothes pressed to her chest. "Drink til you burst," she said and tore her coat off its hanger. "See if I care!"
xXx
She didn't return.
The whole day came and went and Haymitch sat at the table, working himself through bottle after bottle. Moonlight shone through the cracks in the curtains and the last time he even moved from this chair was to draw them together so he didn't have to see himself
He would lose her. Lose her for sure just like he lost everything precious to him. And he wished, wished with all his might, that he could talk to his ma and pa.
The white liquor always used to make good on their promise to dull the memories of his family, for a little while anyway. Well, not tonight. In the shadows of the room he could almost see them, just at the corner of his eye. Like all he had to do was turn around and they'd be there.
But they weren't and they never would be.
"I don't know what to do," he said for no one to hear. "I don't know what to do."
Haymitch wasn't the only one awake. Over at the children's house a fire burned on the hearth. Effie stared into its glowing embers and a part of her, a big part, wanted to rise from the couch and go find him, kiss him and forget about it all but every time she tried, she couldn't. She just couldn't.
"I feel funny," his voice slurred in her memory.
Effie closed her eyes but it was no use. That night was forever branded into her mind. She'd have an easier time catching smoke than she had ridding herself off those images.
Of Haymitch's face, pale and blue-tinged, his hands clutched around her overcoat and how he took her with him in the fall when his knees gave way.
His body had jerked and twitched in her arms, his legs flayed and kicked up the screamed for the children and watched in horror how his eyes were just whites and the saliva that foamed around his mouth.
"Call an ambulance! Hurry!" Haymitch choked back and vomit splattered out and on to the ground. She rolled him over on one side so he wouldn't drown in it. "No, Haymitch, stay awake! OK, just stay awake!"
Effie leaned her forehead into her palm, pinched the bridge of her nose like she had a headache.
What would have happened if Haymitch hadn't sought her out when he did? If he had the seizure in his house and lay there alone all night. It was too horrible to even think of and yet it was all she could think about.
Behind her, the door opened. Effie looked up at the sound and there he was. Standing in a wash of moonlight it was so much like before her heart leaped in to her throat.
He didn't speak. She didn't speak. He just walked over to her and fell rather than sat down on the couch. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second and no, his face was not blue, his mouth not white with foam. Now he was just drunk. Drunk and depressed and tired and lost. So lost, like he didn't know where else to go.
He hid his face against her lap. His hair was wet from the snow and Effie smoothed back those strands that always fell over his eyes.
"I haven't been manipulating you," she murmured. "That's not why I came back."
"I know."
"I'm not indifferent to Snow's crimes against you."
"I know."
They lapsed into silence. Haymitch closed his eyes under her soft caresses and how he yearned for oblivion. No more talking. No more thinking. Just sweet old nothingness.
"It wouldn't work, Eff," he mumbled. "So what's the point?"
"You did it once," she answered softly.
"Sure. But it was never gonna last forever and I knew it better than anyone. War could only end one of two ways. We win and go home or we lose and they kill us. Either way, being sober was just temporary. I can keep myself in check when I have to. Sometimes for a long time. But in the end the drink always takes me. It's just the way it is. So why you have to make everything so difficult? Why can't we just… live?"
"I don't want to make everything difficult," she said and Haymitch sighed for he knew more was coming. "And you're right, life would be so much simpler for the both of us if I just kept my mouth shut and maybe we'd get a few good years."
"'But?'" he said tiredly.
"But I see what those wretched bottles are doing to you" she said. "And I can't just stand by and watch anymore. Not after you almost died right there in my arms."
It took him a moment to realize she meant his blood poisoning episode. Funny, he never made the connection before but that's when this never-ending argument first started.
"You're my family", Effie went on, "and Haymitch, I do understand more than you think but I go to bed at night wondering if you will be alive the next time I see you. You were lucky before. We got you to the hospital in time and you recovered. One day you won't be. Even if you manage to not hurt yourself while intoxicated, all that drinking will take its toll on you. That's the reason why I yell at you all the time. The only reason. Not because I have to clean up the mess or bail you out of trouble. I just don't want to lose you."
"Eff…"
"Do you remember what you said after Peeta was hijacked and tried to kill Katniss? You said he'd never be the same again. You were so sure, just as sure as you are about your drinking; that you can't manage without it."
"You're saying he's the same kid as before his Games?"
"I'm saying, he found a way back to us. Because he does something you've never been able to do. Something even Katniss does now. And Annie. He let people help him."
Haymitch was silent. Not because much of this came as news to him, it didn't, or because she was wrong, she wasn't. No, because her words had woken more memories to life. Only, not of Peeta.
Pa.
The reason people had admired Dom Abernathy so much was because if you needed help with something, the fierce miner was your man.
Grandpa Harold never tired of telling the story about how Dom saved those two boys and Haymitch never tired of hearing it. He had his father on a pedestal, all throughout his childhood. Pa could do anything. Anything at all!
Maybe that's why he felt so horrified when pa got himself drunk, one time. Just that one time. Because up until that point Haymitch thought there was nothing pa was afraid of.
And when his lungs failed and Domwas the one who needed help Haymitch realized something else. There actually was one thing his father couldn't do.
"What kind of man am I if I can't take care of my own family!"
'For our family.' That's what he always said when he talked about his job but it was more than that. Working the mines, hell as it was, gave him a sense of purpose, an identity. As a provider. The bread winner.
Without his strength, who was he? And instead of figuring it out he just hid behind a wall of denial and went into the mines again and again until his heart gave out.
Haymitch loved his father and could see his side of it now but as a young boy he never understood, never truly forgave him for this "weakness".
Til this day he could still remember the complete and utter despair rising up inside his eleven year old self when he realized all his and ma's hard work to keep Dom out of the mines were completely in vain.
That it didn't matter what he said or did, he would never be able to save his father. Because Dom wouldn't let him.
"I know what it's like," Madam's voice whispered in his memory. "When you want to help someone and you can't. You're a good boy. Don't become like me."
"What do you want, Haymitch?" Effie asked softly. "What do you truly want?"
A drop of melted snow that clung to his hair ran down Haymitch's nose, like a tear.
"I want to grow old with you."
xXx
And they were going back to the Capitol.
The children didn't know yet. After the conversation with the doctor, Effie asked Haymitch if he wanted to tell Katniss and Peeta and he just shook his head. Ever since he poured all his bottles down the drain he'd said very little to her. But they left a message on the kitchen table so they wouldn't worry.
Outside, the woods of District 7 flashed by. Effie stood in the bathroom and combed the tangles out of her hair when she heard his muttered obcenities through the door.
She found him on the bed where he tried and failed to undo his shirt buttons. His face was flushed so he must have struggled for quite some time. She expected a snarl when she sat down next to him but it didn't come. He just dropped his hands down in defeat and let her do it.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked quietly. "They have ways to ease the transition."
"Well, it can't be helped."
"It's dangerous."
"Don't care. They're not gonna put any drugs in me."
Effie looked like there were more on her mind but in the end she didn't press the issue. It was no use.
She pulled his shirt off, went for the undershirt next out of habit, but stopped.
He hadn't touched her since the Christmas tree and she didn't want to impose more than she already had.
"How about I get you some water?"
"Yeah," he scoffed. "Brilliant. Just what I want."
Effie didn't answer. She just folded his shirt and rose to put it away.
"Wait." His hand closed around her wrist before she could leave. He tugged her towards him and on to his lap. "I'm sorry I'm being an ass," he muttered.
He looked up into her face, tired and unsmiling and before his mind could wander back into those dark places of what to come she brushed her lips against his.
It was soft and tender and Haymitch sighed into the kiss. Effie wrapped her arm around him, supported herself against the rocking of the train. She could feel him respond to the movements, the friction and a groan slipped between his lips. She took one of his shaky hands and placed it on her breast. Her strawberry hair fell in waves around his face as they deepened the kiss.
And Haymitch scoffed and pushed her off of him. Effie slumped down on to the mattress and Haymitch had already hauled himself out of bed.
"I can taste your perfume or whatever the hell you bathed in."
He was at the door, hand on the knob and stopped, shoulders sagging.
"Don't worry, Eff," he mumbled when she walked up to him. "Soon I'll be locked up and you don't have to see this."
She touched his shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Let's just go to bed."
They did so. It was cramped but it would do. Haymitch drew a long sigh.
"Drying out over Christmas."
Effie wrapped her arm around his middle, hesitantly and when he didn't pull away she spooned him. Haymitch laced their fingers together, holding them close.
"You know, I had a thought," she murmured into his neck.
"You don't say?" he replied and a ghost of a smile appeared on Effie's lips at the familiar jibe.
"When all of this is over," she said, "when Spring comes, we could go somewhere. Just you and me. Maybe rent a cottage on one of the islands of District 4. Someplace with no memories."
Haymitch nodded.
"Sure. Whatever. Sounds good."
Outside the landscapes flashed by as the train moved steadily onward. A frosty moon shone over the former mentor and escort tangled together in bed.
Haymitch was as warm as glowing embers and the rocking of the train made Effie so drowsy. She fought it because Haymitch would surely get no rest but her eyelids only grew heavier and heavier.
"I'm so proud… of my victor," she mumbled before sleep pulled her under. "So proud."
xXx
By the time they reached her apartment Haymitch's body was crying for help.
His hands shook uncontrollably and his legs were just as restless. He was clammy all over and he couldn't hold anything down. Even a sip of water sent his stomach into an uproar and had him go back and forth between her couch and the toilet.
Effie went about her business like she always did. She unpacked and let him be which he was eternally grateful for. Made him feel a tiny bit less humiliated when he sat clutching the washbasin while liquid fire shot out of him.
His energy was drained long before bed. He trembled like a leaf and yet he dripped with perspiration. Effie brought him a thick comforter and he drew it up to his nose only to toss it off again moments later and then on again and then off again.
And that's how the hours crept by.
They wouldn't meet with the doctors until morning. Haymitch didn't say so but she knew he did it like this because he hoped to ride out the worst of the storm before he handed himself over to "those white coated know-it-alls". Maybe even believed he could do this on his own and he wouldn't have to go there at all.
It was painful to see him like this, trapped inside his own body, and not be able to do anything. To just sit by and listen to his groans of agony and hope for the best.
This is all wrong. Call them. Make them send over a team.
But she couldn't. Just couldn't do that to him. So she helped him with the bucket each time he got sick – mostly just dry heaves now and remained close at his side, face marred in concern.
Time was all jumbled up. Haymitch hardly noticed her. Not when she left the room or when she came back. He lay in the fetal position, shaking and trembling and his teeth clattered like he was stuck in the blizzard of last year.
"Haymitch." He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Haymitch." Effie's voice. He tried to speak but nothing but a croaked sound came over his lips. "Come with me", she said. "I have something that will help."
"Watch your steps." She led him in to the master bathroom. The one with the large tub sunk into the floor. It was filled to the edges now, the lights turned down low.
They were both already naked and Haymitch's face flooded with relief when they slid into the warm water. Just plain water, no bath bubbles or oils or dried flowers that could aggravate his already heightened senses.
There were steps built into the tub so they sat safely but Effie kept her arms around him just in case while the water soothed the ache in his joints. His body had visibly relaxted. Soon he didn't shake as badly and his breathing resumed to something that resembled normal.
"You're going to get through this," she murmured and cupped her hand under the water, lettting it run down his shoulders and chest. "You will." Haymitch looked at her though half-shut eyes, then closed them again, head heavy against her shoulder.
It was a night of vigil. Effie had resigned to no sleep but hours later after she got him back into bed she must have drifted off at some point. Because little less than an hour before the alarm, Effie woke, with a groan.
She slipped her legs out of bed, clutching her stomach and when she couldn't find the light switch she just stumbled through the dark for the bathroom.
The lid on the toilet was already up but this time it was Effie who hurled her guts into it. Tears and sweat rolled down her face as she threw up again and again until she had nothing left and slumped back down on the floor, trembling from the ordeal.
She must have caught something in class. The stomach flu always flourished at the Academy this time of year but she couldn't be sick today. Not when they were expected at the rehab facility in just a couple of hours.
Shakily she got to her feet and flushed the toilet.
"Haymitch?" She sat on the bed, searched him with her hand. "Haymitch, how…"
And she turned the lights on.
The bed was empty. The room was empty. Nothing but a note on the nightstand, written in jiggly letters by someone who couldn't quite hold a pen. Just two words and Effie bolted up from the bed, a second time.
I'm sorry.
xXx
Haymitch was just about to board the train when her cry reached him.
"Wait!"
Face flushed and her coat buttoned all wrong, Effie all but slipped on her way over the icy platform. Haymitch watched, face blank. Only his eyes betrayed him. His eyes and the duffel bag, stuffed with bottles.
"I can't do it, Eff."
"Haymitch, please…"
"I can't go through this again."
"Don't give up, OK. If you need more time…"
"There's no point."
"Just…"
"No, Effie. I can't be fixed. OK. You just gotta accept I won't get any better. It's just too late for me."
The tears that she had so close to these days flooded Effie's eyes by his words.
"You're going to kill yourself," she said.
Haymitch's face was gaunt and haggard when he looked at her.
"We're all dying, Eff." He hoisted his bag up over his shoulder. "And I can't stay here any longer, OK. Not now. I'll call you once I'm back in Twelve."
"No!" Effie said and her voice broke. And all at once the words came flooding out. She didn't ever care anymore who might hear her. "No! If you board that train, Haymitch, don't call! Don't come back! Forget about me. Forget about all of it! Because I can't…" Tears spilled over her lashes. "I won't stay and watch!"
The pain in his eyes, the pain in his whole being that she had caused him with those words - she would never forget it as long as she lived. For in them she saw he had known it would come to this all along.
Finally Haymitch dropped his gaze.
"You're better off without me," he said and boarded the train.