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Chapter Text

The train still wasn't moving and Effie couldn't keep from tapping her long decorated nails impatiently against the window sill. She was very proud of them even if they'd made wrapping Haymitch's birthday present so much more difficult.

Her thoughts had gone back to Haymitch and Katniss and Peeta repeatedly over the years. She'd read about the rebuildings in her newspaper and Plutarch had filled her in on what he knew but the last time she ever spoke to Haymitch was the day he returned to take Peeta home to District 12.

And then one day out of the blue a letter landed on her door mat inviting her to Haymitch's birthday.

Chapter Text

It was so quiet with Effie gone.

He'd never liked the silence much, only made him hear his own dark thoughts, but at the same time it was relieving not having her around too. Relieving to get to sleep whenever he wanted, to not have her high pitched voice commenting on his drinking or the state of his clothes when he was the most hangover. Relieving to not be woken to another "big big big day!" by her rapping on his door.

He didn't understand why she'd insisted on waking him so damn early each morning when all they ever seemed to do was sit on his front porch drinking an endless supply of Capitol tea tasting like flowers or a sickly sweet concoction she called "ice tea".

It was so boring he was ready to throw himself off the slag heap, having to listen to Effie's nonstop chit-chatting. He'd sat there day in and day out watching her waving hands in the air and tried recalling how long she'd stay. It was always good to know how long Effie Trinket would be present – to know what you were in for – and she must have checked it off with him at some point but he couldn't for the sake of his life remember and when she wasn't pouring him tea she was dragging him on walks back and forth along the dusty roads of Twelve.

Yeah, he was relieved when Effie left and his life fell back into its old routine. And yet his thoughts went back to her – not often but always when he least expected it. He guessed it wasn't odd wondering about her, what she was doing. Ever since he got the determined, clipboard clutching girl that was Effie Trinket as his escort she'd been a constant in his life.

He thought of writing to her. She'd sent him a thank you card days after his birthday, but he ended up with a blank paper just the same. Effie would probably be unable to decipher his handwriting anyway.

So the days just came and went, most of them with Haymitch on the couch, bottle in hand, staring leisurely up at the crackled ceiling paint. Sometimes Peeta was there and the smell of fresh bread dispersed some of the sour stench of neglect Haymitch hardly even notice anymore. Sometimes he woke, his head feeling like it would split open, finding someone had made up his fire, leaving a bowl of soup on the hearth. Each Sunday Katniss and Peeta dug him out to have dinner with them if he wanted to or not.

One morning all of Twelve was covered in frost.

Winters around here were merciless. He got good use of the jacket Katniss and Peeta had gotten him for his birthday when he trudged along the snow packed road into town getting his weekly supply of liquor at Ripper's or sometimes went over to the boy's bakery where there were frosted ginger cake houses in the windows.

The only times you could really tell there was someone living in Haymitch's house at all were at night when his windows gleamed through the darkness and one of those nights when the snowy wind howled outside and he was having some of Peeta's rolls for his first solid meal all day, Haymitch clawed around a kitchen drawer finding something he did not expect.

If he hadn't been so tanked up he probably would have recognized the shining black box right away. Now it took for him to open it and reveal the elegant, gold bracelet he hadn't laid his eyes on since Finnick gave it back to him on the hovercraft.

He slumped down on the couch, bread in one hand, jewelry in the other, seeing the firelight reflect itself in the gold surface. Effie had called it bangle and in that one memory he felt a pang of longing, so strong he frowned and put his roll away, unable to eat another bite.

He'd always been lousy at answering his phone, not that there were many calling him, but he'd at least kept from tearing it out of the wall after Effie had it fixed before the Quarter Quell. She'd even put up a list of "Numbers of importance" next to it, yellowed by now, for Katniss and Peeta's thought to be wedding. He blinking hard several times to clear his head and dialed Effie's number.

The signals went on and on and just as he thought she wasn't going to pick up there was a crackle on the other end.

"Eff?"

"Haymitch?"

There was something wrong with Effie's voice. His eyebrows came together as he tried to tell what it was.

"Hello?" said Effie uncertainly.

"Yeah," Haymitch slurred. "Yeah, is me."

"Why are you calling me so late? It's 3AM."

Haymitch blinked stupidly, looking from the wall clock and back.

"What're you doin'?" he asked.

"I'm in bed. It's the middle of the night."

Her voice was choked, like she had a cold and her breathing trembled. What she didn't sound like was someone who'd been woken in the middle of the night, even in his state he could tell. He remembered those many days in the hospital when he arrived finding Effie with puffy eyes and tears on her cheeks that she always quickly wiped away when she saw him at the door. Her voice had sounded exactly like that.

"You crying?"

"No," said Effie.

"You're crying."

"I'm not," she said. She shivered and he heard the rustle of sheets like she was pulling a blanket tighter around herself.

"I can hear you breathing through your mouth, Eff. You sick?"

"I'm not sick. I'm just tired. It's 3 AM. What do you want?" A moment passed. "Nothing's happened, has it? Are Katniss and Peeta alright?"

"Nah, I'm just drunk calling ya."

"Of course," said Effie. She drew a breath. "How are you? Have you tried your chessboard yet?"

"Why weren't you asleep?"

"Who says I wasn't?"

"You always bit my head off when I woke you drunk during the Games." He took a swig from his bottle. "You had a nightmare or something? That's why you're up?"

"No, because it's cold," said Effie and before Haymitch could answer, the words came flowing out of her mouth. The heat wasn't working as it should for some reason and there was no one she could call for the next three hours, and now it was just snowing and snowing and she couldn't even go up to get another blanket because the floor was so cold.

"I've practically got frost in my hair."

"Poor Effs," said Haymitch, looking into his own glowing fireplace, flexing his toes that were toasty warm. Effie made a sad sound as if she could see it. "Tuck in your blanket," he said.

"What?"

"Tuck in your blanket. Like a sleeping bag. Then it'll reflect your body heat."

There was the rustle of sheets and he heard Effie's teeth clattering. Then after a few moments her breathing calmed.

"Better?" he asked.

"Thank you."

They silenced. Haymitch scratched his stubble with the top of his bottle.

"I wish you were here, Haymitch," Effie finally said. "I really do. Things just feel warmer when you're around. If you were here, do you know what I would do? I would make us both a cup of hot chocolate with chili pepper. Have you ever tried it? It's really delicious and I would get out some woolen socks too, so we wouldn't mind the floor. They are pink but they're warm and really soft."

"You OK, Eff?" Haymitch asked.

"I'm sorry", Effie said. "I know I sound sentimental. Sometimes I… I get a little sad when it's dark outside. That's all. But it will pass. It always does."

"Want me to come over?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop and think about them. Maybe because he knew what it was like to not feel well in the dark.

"You don't have to come all the way to the Capitol, Haymitch", Effie said softly. "I wouldn't make you do that. I know you hate the Capitol and don't want to come and visit me."

Haymitch knitted his eyebrows together.

"Don't put words in my mouth, sweetheart. Was an honest offer."

"It takes a day to get to the Capitol. You would have to sleep on the train. And in this weather. Not… not that it wouldn't be nice having a guest over but…"

And she kept on like that until Haymitch rolled his eyes and interrupted her.

"Your voice's giving me a headache, sweetheart. If you want me to come over I'll come over. What day's today?"

"Today is Thursday."

"So I'll come tomorrow."

"Technically it's already tomorrow."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Well, I… it's settled then," said Effie and even though she sounded startled she also sounded much happier than when she first picked up the phone.

xXx

It felt strange being on this train again. Last time was the day the Capitol carted them all of for the Quell and they'd been sitting around the table, all in their own misery. He remembered Effie sending her wine away for his sake, squeezing his shaky hand under the table when no one else was looking.

These post-war trains were different, of course. Less extravagant, even if they were just as fast. Somewhere a sleeping car was waiting for him but he preferred the regular seats in the wide, empty hallways, resting his feet on the seat opposite of him. He watched his breath appear and disappear on the window, hearing the wind whistle outside and the bottles in his duffel bag clink whenever the train made a sudden move.

Never in a million years had he imagined going back to the Capitol, or any other part of Panem for that matter. Katniss probably believed he would have gone some place with less painful memories after the war if he'd had the choice but even if he hadn't had to move back home for Katniss's sake there was no other place for him in the world. He guessed it was the same thing for Effie. He remembered how choked her voice had sounded, wondering if those nights when she got sad were many.

Not until the sun peeked over the horizon did Haymitch's head slump down on his shoulder and there he would sit well into the afternoon when a loudspeaker jolted him awake. Watching the overcrowded platform he got an unpleasant image of when the four of them used to pull into the station every year to a wide-grinning, chanting and waving crowd, eager to see this year's tributes.

None of the people outside were paying attention to the train now of course and he took his duffel bag heading for the exit, shuddering when snow whirled up in his face. No wonder Effie wept, he thought as he made his way through the crowd, trying to spot her somewhere in this blur of colors.

He saw her long before she saw him, standing under the big clock. God, she was bright. She must shine in the damn dark. Her powdered face broke into a smile when she saw him and she waved, looking like some kind of angel you put in a Christmas tree.

"There you are," she said. "I was getting worried. You were supposed to be here six minutes ago and I was afraid the train was behind schedule but now you're here. Welcome Haymitch," she said and kissed him on the cheek. Haymitch rubbed the spot to make sure none of her colors had stuck on him and she looped her arm around his.

"It's so nice to receive you," she smiled. Her long fake eyelashes looked like snow flurries clung to them and she pulled him with her towards the waiting cab. "I have so much planned for us", she continued. "You will get the largest guest room of course and your own bathroom. I'm sure we're going to have a very nice weekend together."

"Yeah, you go on trying to convince yourself of that, sweetheart." He noticed her nails were decorated with snowflakes and he shook his head in disbelief.

Effie's apartment building wasn't pink like Haymitch had always imagined it but a deep orange like the fruit they had at the Hob on New Year's. The building was squeezed in between two bright turquoise ones – as if bent on giving him a headache.

"Well," said Effie with a smile. "This is my home."

He couldn't help himself. He craned his neck right and left the moment they got inside. Oddly enough, it didn't look half as outrageous as he'd expected. Muted colored leather sofas and arm chairs, soft carpets, wooden furniture and mirrors. Lots of mirrors.

"You grew up here?" he asked.

"Yes. Our landlady used to babysit me when I was little."

"I can totally imagine you as a kid."

"Oh?" Effie smiled.

"Probably came out of your mum, wig and all."

Place seemed big for just one person. Effie owned the whole bottom floor. They turned a corner and she held opened a door for him.

"This is your room."

The first he saw was the bed, twice the size of his own back home and looking so comfortable he slumped down on it immediately, stiff from the train ride. He pulled his socks off, burying his feet in the soft bedspread.

Effie frowned at his socks so carelessly thrown on the floor but she cleared her throat and said,

"I took liberty of getting you these just in case the floor gets cold," she said and handed him a pair of dark blue slippers. And a water glass," she added pointing to the nightstand. "In case you get thirsty in the middle of the night. Towels are in the bathroom. There's both a shower and a bathtub, whatever you prefer and if you need a pajamas I have some you can borrow. And don't get too comfortable," she smiled when Haymitch lay back against the pillows, looking overly pleased. "The night is young."

The pleased look immediately vanished from Haymitch's face.

"What?"

And Effie opened a closet taking out a black garment bag, draping it over the bed.

"My dear friend Flora is throwing a party tonight and you are my plus one."

"Oh, fuck no!" said Haymitch, sprinting up from the bed, with Effie getting out something blue and glistening from the garment bag.

"You would look so dashing in this one," Effie sighed, holding it against him. "It goes perfectly with your skin tone."

"I'm not going to some Capitol freak show. Forget it!"

"It's not a freak show. It's a nice party."

"I'm not going," Haymitch repeated, crossing his arms over his chest as if to make sure she wouldn't be able to force the clothes onto him.

"It's not like the sponsor banquets or presidential dinners," said Effie. "Not at all. It's simply a… get-together. There will be good food and drinks, interesting people."

"I've got all I need right here. You go if you wanna go."

"I don't want to go alone," said Effie, throwing her hands at her sides, the blue suit shimmering. "And everyone will bring their dates. I would look ridiculous if I came alone."

"Since when am I your date?"

"You know what I…"

"And even if I was, I sure as hell wouldn't wear that," he said with a disgusted look at the blue suit. It had a white collar that looked way too snug for his taste.

"We would have a wonderful evening," said Effie. "I'm sure."

"Yeah," Haymitch snorted. "Safe bet."

"And they have an open bar!"

Haymitch looked up.

"Really?"

"So will you accompany me tonight, wearing this? Please?" she asked. "Showered," she added after a pause.

Haymitch sighed and grabbed the suit.

xXx

Haymitch hated parties. He hated being paraded around and he hated mingling. During the Games, before Katniss and Peeta came along, he'd left all of that to Effie while he was at the bar, long ago abandoned the belief any action on his part would make a difference; a behaviour and a thinking Effie had quarreled with him about numerously.

Sure, maybe this party wasn't Games related, he thought while tugging at his collar. It still made his skin crawl when Effie pulled him into the mansion and the heat from the crowds of flamboyantly dressed people hit him like a wall.

Effie smiled left and right as she made way through the crowds, expertly zigzagging between waving glasses, lit cigars and careless elbows.

"Where's the bar?" Haymitch asked, scanning over people's heads.

"Well, it's only polite to first introduce yourself to…"

"Don't have to. Me and the bar go back a long way," said Haymitch and Effie sighed just as he spotted the bar with its wonderful rows of green and blue and golden bottles.

He pulled Effie with him as he headed towards it and heaved himself up on a barstool, ordering two glasses of scotch. He nudged one glass over to Effie who took a sip while Haymitch emptied half of his in one go.

"You look insane," he said, taking in Effie's outfit, the bluish flower hanging down her shoulder, her slime green hair.

Effie raised an eyebrow at him.

"Be nice Haymitch or I might ask you to dance."

Just as she said that, the orchestra which up until now had played softly in the background stroke up a tune, getting people's attention and Haymitch squirmed with unease on his chair.

But before he could say anything a man with shining blonde hair materialized so fast you'd think he'd stood at the ready ever since they walked in.

"Excuse me, ms Trinket," he said, giving her the Capitol bow as was tradition here and held out his hand. "Can I have this dance?"

Effie smiled and after throwing a comment about responsible drinking over her shoulder she disappeared out on the dance floor.

He didn't try and stop her, with two glasses of excellent Capitol scotch and the bartender at the ready. Without a thought of Effie, dancing somewhere behind him, he relished in his easily achieved freedom, as well as free drinks.

Until the music faded again and a sigh escaped his lips, expecting the familiar hammering of heels, when Effie returned to him.

Only she wasn't. He turned around just in time to see a man, another man, bow for Effie, leading her back out on the dance area.

She truly did look insane in that getup and with thick layers of blue and green and yellow eye makeup, making her look 10 years older than she was. The flock of Capitol suitors watching her dance didn't look like they shared Haymitch's opinion though. They looked as if they'd found a pot of gold where they least expected it. A pack of dogs catching a smell in the air.

Haymitch downed what was left of his drink and waved the empty glass at the bartender, watching Effie in the arms of yet another dance partner, a man who'd dyed himself silver but still amazingly enough did not leave fingerprints on Effie when he held her that tightly.

Haymitch snorted so heavily the liquor in his glass splashed back on his nose. She must be desperate, dancing with men like those. And she was one to talk about manners, stranding him on this party, not so much as throwing a glance at him.

What was he even doing here? Back in the Capitol, wearing clothes matching Effie's. But of course that was something he knew. He'd come here because he wanted to know how she were. But he thought they would spend their days over at her place, like when she visited Twelve. He hadn't expected this, which was stupid of him when he thought about it.

Haymitch's mood went from bad to worse as he watched Effie dance through an endless line of Capitol suitors, one more freakish looking than the other, her outfit glistening in the light from the crystal chandeliers. He didn't know much about dancing but whatever it was that she was doing she was damn good at it. Too good.

Haymitch had himself another drink and more than a few of the guests had started giving him looks. A lady with black gloves and dark blue lipstick whispered something to her date but when Haymitch gave her a mocking version of the Capitol bow she sniffed, pulling her companion with her and then he was alone at the bar.

There were buffet tables on the other side of the room with fruit tureens on ice, bread and cheese, fancy dishes and a huge, elegant cake with whipped cream and flakes of chocolate that people hadn't started in on yet. He wouldn't mind having some of the food but it irritated him having to go there alone when he was supposed to be Effie's plus one.

"Hey, Eff!" he called across the room. Some of the guests looked his way but not Effie. She seemed to have forgotten he even existed, getting twirled by her suitor – the silver colored one, again. "Eff!" Haymitch called, louder this time, to be heard over the music and the buzzing of people.

He watched the man make an elegant move so his silver arms and Effie's arms were wrapped together over her upper body, with the two of them swaying slightly from side to side with him hugging her from behind, whispering something in her ear.

Haymitch slammed his half emptied glass of whiskey on the bar table and got off his chair, making way through the crowds, not caring in the slightest about the indignant sounds of those he elbowed passed. He wasn't as steady as he'd like to be but his irritation kept him from staggering.

"I'm hungry," he said, walking over the dance area, eyes on Effie who hadn't even spotted him yet. There were several couples dancing and he got bumped here and there on his way for her. He reached out his hand to nudge her dance partner on the shoulder.

But before he'd gotten the chance someone bumped into him from behind and Haymitch staggered forward slamming right into Effie's partner. The man yelped and stumbled forwards, losing his grip on Effie's hand as he'd just twirled her. Effie made a stumbling pirouette, tripped in her high heels and toppled the table over when trying to break her fall – getting the gigantic cake all over herself.

It was so horrible there was only one thing people could do. Watch. Even the musicians had silenced, mouths agape seeing Effie on the floor, all arms and legs inside layers and layers of whipped cream and chocolate and cake. She was too stunned and her face too covered in the stuff to even scream. She wiped her hands against her face and a pair of blue eyes came visible.

Clumps of cake fell from her as Effie tried to get up, her hands and feet only slipping on the messy floor and Haymitch saw many of the men she'd danced with earlier, including the silver one, move back to keep from getting their clothes soiled.

Finally Haymitch stepped in, giving her a hand and Effie stared at him, shakily getting to her feet, cake plunging from her onto the once shiny wooden floor.

The restroom got empty extraordinarily fast when Effie entered, Haymitch in tow and first now when they were alone did she truly turn to him.

"Are you out of your mind, Haymitch!?"

"It was an accident," said Haymitch. "Just wondered if you wanted to grab something to eat."

"I've never been so humiliated! And we ruined Flora's cake!" Effie grabbed half a dozen paper napkins, wiping her face clean of whipped cream and chocolate, scraping cake from her dress by the handful, dumping it into the washbasin. "Look at my dress! Look at my hair!"

Haymitch fought hard to keep the muscles in his face under control. He reached out, plucking a flake of chocolate from her shoulder, popping it into his mouth.

Flora who was displeased about nothing but her ruined cake appeared at the door and after lending Effie a towel she offered to call them a cab.

"I'm humiliated!" Effie said for surely the tenth time when they entered her apartment. With an angry huff she turned the lights on by clapping her hands together. "You find everything you need in the bathroom cabinet", she said. "I would help you but I have jam under my fingernails!"

And then Haymitch lay on his own bed, bottle in hand, listening to Effie taking a shower so long she would have used up all the hot water if it had been at his house.

He heard when she came out too, closing the bathroom door after herself and then the muffled sound that could only be Effie throwing her very own pity party. Haymitch rolled over on his side, pounding his fist against the wall.

"What?" he heard Effie's voice.

"Shut up."

"Rude," muttered Effie.

He rolled onto his back again, grinning, bringing the bottle to his lips. But after a full five minutes of having to listen to Effie muttering about her terrible lot in life he hauled himself out of bed, heading for her room.

"Effs, quit being so…" he said and pushed open the door but his voice was cut off by a scream.

"Don't come in here!" Beauty products spilled over the edge of her vanity table as Effie had pulled the comforter over her head. "I'm not presentable! I'm not even Beauty Base Zero!"

"Shit, Eff. You could cut bread with that voice."

"Turn around! Look away! Look away!"

Haymitch sighed and faced the wall, hearing Effie flit about the room, opening closets and drawers.

"How bad can you be, really?" he said.

"What do you want, Haymitch? Come to humiliate me some more?"

"Who cares about that? Wanna talk humiliation, sweetheart? Think about my dive at the reaping. Whole fucking country saw that. You've put on your crap yet?"

"Yes. No. I mean yes. It's not crap," said Effie, failing to keep the impatience out of her voice. Haymitch turned, seeing Effie stand there in a pink dressing gown tied tightly around her body, face flushed and her hair hidden under one of her gray head wraps.

He put his bottle of liquor on the nightstand next to Effie's filled water glass and crashed on her bed.

"You will not tell this to a living soul. And that outfit was new. And I who had such a lovely time," she said, giving him a long look and Haymitch didn't know what he ached to do the most. Sigh with annoyance at her way of making this all his fault, tease her for obsessing or comfort her because no one could look as sad as Effie when she was upset.

He averted his gaze and his eyes fell on the large painting across from them. He recognized it immediately. Not because he'd seen it before but because he'd been there before. Looking at it now, he could almost feel the warm sun, smell the scent of summer and wildflowers, feel the breeze rustling through the hardwood trees surrounding the Meadow.

There was only one person who could have made it.

"Peeta gave it to me," said Effie, confirming his thought. "While he was still at the Capitol."

Haymitch nodded. The boy hadn't spoken about it but of course Peeta had spent time with Effie while he was still under Aurelius care. The doctor wouldn't let him return to Twelve until he was safe to be around Katniss and he could imagine Effie and the boy talking, maybe while he made this painting.

"We can go there someday," said Haymitch. "You know. The Meadow."

Effie looked surprised over this unexpected offer but then she smiled.

"I'd love to." She folded her hands on her lap. "We need to leave our outfits at the drycleaner's tomorrow," she said. "But after that you and I are going to have a very nice day together, downtown. I promise."

A groan escaped Haymitch's lips. He grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his face.

xXx

Parts of the Capitol had been as damaged as the districts during the rebellion but looking at it now it felt like the city hadn't changed a bit, except there were no framed photos of President Snow in the shop windows.

He knew President Paylor and her new administration, had had long days – much assisted by Plutarch and Beetee – cleaning the city off pods, including the contraptions and muttations the Capitolians didn't even know lay beneath their feet until that gory winter day when Katniss and Peeta entered the city and the ground cracked opened from under them.

Haymitch pushed the thought aside. That for certain was something he didn't want to think about more than he had to.

Effie seemed to have decided to forgive Haymitch for the cake debacle because she was having a ball, strolling down the well-plowed pavements with Haymitch on her arm, telling him the name, height, material, designer, year and reception of every candy colored building of worth as they passed them. While Haymitch let her words go in one ear and out the other – a method he'd perfected over the years.

"There is only one place to really see the city," said Effie, squeezing Haymitch's arm. "And that's the Capitolium. It's got the most marvelous view of the entire city. It's also a restaurant."

The building in question towered above the rest, gleamed in the sunlight. They entered the warmth of a foyer, handing over their outerwear in the wardrobe and getting their tickets.

Apart from the large cloud on her head Effie was wearing a black dress that was positively heart stopping. It seemed to be neither fabric nor metal but something in between, embroidered with silver threads and having a neckline that exposed her skin in an innocent way maybe but still more than enough to make him swallow.

Effie felt his eyes on her and smiled. And then she headed right for the curved marble staircase.

"Elevators," said Haymitch.

"I thought we could watch the view as we go. We always did that when I was little."

"We're gonna walk all the way up? You kiddin' me? I won't survive."

"You're not that old, Haymitch," said Effie amusedly.

"Why can't we just watch the damn view when we're up there?"

"Well, some people see it as part of the experience taking the stairs and watch the city shrink as they go. You'll manage. A stockily built district man like you," said Effie, with a glint in her eyes.

"I hate you," growled Haymitch when Effie mounted the first seven steps like it was nothing.

"The Capitolium is viewed as one of Panem's greatest architectural designs," said Effie as they went upwards, step by step by step. "It's had a steady flow of visitors ever since it was built, won the Minerva Medal two years in a row and…"

She turned her head with a smile but silenced when she discover Haymitch was not among the few people whom had also decided to take the stairs.

"Haymitch?" she said. There was a groan somewhere below. She headed down the steps, excusing herself as she went.

"Oh dear," she said, when she spotted Haymitch leaning against the banister, face so red he looked like he'd have a stroke. "Are you alright?"

Haymitch waved his hand at her to shut her up. He reached her with a groan and rested one hand on his thigh, the other against the banister, trying to catch his breath, stopping up the flow of people descending the stairs.

"Maybe we," said Effie, looking at Haymitch with concern. "Maybe we should take the elevator after all."

"Not… on your life," Haymitch gasped. He wiped his face with his shirtsleeve and then they slowly continued their way up the stairs, neither of them getting any joy from watching the city become smaller and smaller.

"Well," said Effie uncertainly, feeling the need to defend herself. "This is what happens when you abuse your body with years of heavy drinking."

"Tell me something I don't know, sweetheart," Haymitch snorted, his heart pulsating in his throat, his thighs feeling like they were burning.

"We're nearly there," said Effie and then she added, as if thinking it would sheer him up, "You know. This poor attempt at climbing a flight of stairs could be a motivation for you to get your neglected body back into shape."

The view was lost on Haymitch when they finally reached the dome that was the Capitolium's restaurant and he collapsed on the nearest chair, head between his knees not bothering about the people already at the table.

Effie got them seats next to a potted tree with large green and pinkish leaves lending them some shade from the painfully bright sun.

"My parents had their first date in this restaurant," Effie told him when pouring steaming hot coffee into first his cup and then her own. "They both detested coffee but they didn't want to admit that to each other so they sat here, forcing it down. They were married within a year. Haymitch, no elbows on the table."

Hearing that Haymitch pulled half his upper body over the table, chewing with his mouth open making Effie sit straighter up in her chair.

"Look at the size of that sheep," he said, voice muffled by his salmon sandwich.

"The… what?" said Effie.

"That's what it look like," said Haymitch, nodding towards her big, white hair. He swallowed the last of his sandwich and glanced out the window. The Capitol looked like a toy city from up here, with naked trees blinking with lights, snow covered public gardens, the barrage and the mountains stretching out in the distance. "Totally not worth going all the way up here for," he said.

"But the food is excellent?" said Effie.

He made a grunt, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her but he'd finished his sandwich, starting in on another. Effie smiled to herself and then began telling him about the designer of her outfit and that subject excited her up to the point she forgot disapproving over his table manners and while he ate his salmon, tuning out most of what she was saying they found themselves actually having a good time.

"Mm," said Effie dabbing a napkin at the corners of her mouth. "We should have dessert. How about…"

She stopped mid-sentence and Haymitch looked up. Effie's eyes which just seconds ago had sparkled looking back at him were wide looking at something behind him.

"What?" said Haymitch.

"Don't turn around!" she hissed but he was already looking over his shoulder. A woman in a canary yellow dress had walked in, followed by an entourage of bizarre looking friends. When he turned back to Effie she was hiding her face behind one of the large pinkish leaves of the potted tree.

"What're you doing?"

"Lower your voice." Effie's eyes came visible over the edge of the leave and she whimpered. "She can't see us. I don't want to stay here. We have to leave."

"Come on. I haven't even gotten my drink yet."

"There are drinks at my house," said Effie behind her leaf. "Please, Haymitch."

"Who is she?" he asked, with Effie getting up from her seat, tugging at him. He gazed back at the woman in the canary yellow dress. She hadn't spotted them yet as she was just getting seated. A twenty-something year old, small in stature, even shorter than Effie but curvier. Slightly. By Capitol standards at any rate. Blonde fair hair. Heart-shaped face. Lips like a Cupid's bow and the most intense stare he'd ever seen. Eyes you might cut yourself on if you weren't careful.

"The hell was that all about?" he asked when they were back in Effie's apartment, with his lady of the manor by the drinking cabinet, trying to dodge his question by offering wine.

"Nothing. She's no one," Effie said and poured herself a glass, downing half. "You wouldn't know who she is."

"You ashamed of me? Is that it?" He didn't really care if it was true but it felt like the most plausible explanation.

"No," said Effie honestly, eyes begging him to let it go.

"What's she done? Wore the same dress as you?"

"Please, Haymitch. Can we not?"

The day wasn't the same after that. Effie kept appearances up but the almost encounter with the blonde woman had made a dent in her good mood. He saw it in her eyes. How they would cloud over with sadness, miles away. Like so often after the war.

And just like then, when she felt his eyes on her, she put on a smile, pretending like he hadn't just seen her like that.

"We wouldn't want to waste a day with such Christmassy weather."

She got to her feet lending him a muffler.

"You better dress warm."

"Give me a break, Eff. What do you have against this apartment?"

"I have planned something very special for us," Effie said with her most mysterious smile.

Haymitch sighed, throwing the muffler onto the coffee table.

Just one more day, he thought. One more day and you'll be on that train and out of here forever.

Throughout the car ride Haymitch tried to get Effie to tell him where they were going but all she said was that he would see for himself.

And that he did. He saw it immediately, long before the car slowed down.

"You've got to be shitting me," Haymitch said, staring at the snow white rink, the Christmas trees in the corners and the fancily bundled up Capitolians dancing over the ice.

"It's so much fun," Effie smiled. "I loved ice-skating when I was a girl."

"Oh, just kill me now."

"We would like to rent two pair of skates", said Effie to the receptionist in the entrance hall. "One of them the size…"

"There's no fucking way I'm getting on that ice, Eff! I'll just end up in a hospital."

"It's perfectly safe", Effie said. "You get a helmet."

"I don't even know how!"

"I'll show you. Just give it a try, Haymitch. You might even enjoy yourself for once."

"How could you think I would enjoy this?"

"Just try it," she repeated. "I will help you."

"Yeah. You'll be the one scratching me off the ice with a shovel", said Haymitch.

"Oh, fuck," he growled once the skates were on and he took a shaking first step on to the ice. Of course everyone else has to be such bloody experts, he thought watching the others move so effortlessly over the rink.

Effie skated out on the ice herself, making a perfect pirouette with a bright smile. She wasn't wearing a helmet, he noted. Apparently Effie was too good looking to break her neck. His feet wobbled around, his hands shooting out to the sides to keep from face planting.

"Stop smirking at me and give me a hand!"

Effie skated over to him and took his arm but they'd only moved a few meters before he lost his balance and fell, hard.

"I told you this was a shitty idea!" Haymitch shouted, rubbing his neck, glaring at Effie whom had just barely managed to stay on her feet.

"You get used to it after a while", said Effie, helping him to his feet, brushing away the thin layers of snow from his jacket. "Look at me."

"Yeah, you're a real ice princess, princess", Haymitch snorted, legs shaking badly as he turned in the direction they'd come from to get off this ice, only to fall over again, lying on his stomach, failing to get up while practicing every swear in his repertoire.

She tried to keep him steady but it was useless. And for each time he hit the ice she saw his mood going for the worse. When he made a ridiculous half-pirouette, clanking the back of his head against the ice Haymitch wasn't speaking to her anymore.

Dinner that night was so quiet you could hear every ticking of the clock, every clatter of cutleries against the plates. Effie glanced at Haymitch's thunderous expression across the table, cutting her food in neat, unhappy motions. Nothing this weekend went according to plan.

They had some of his favorites, Haymitch noted. Pork chops with mashed potatoes and peas. All cater. Effie couldn't cook a meal to save her life, he thought unkindly – effortlessly keeping from thinking about the black ceiling over his own stove.

Finally Effie felt the need to try and clear the stifling atmosphere and she dabbed her mouth with a napkin, smiling at Haymitch.

"Despite it all I'm glad you're here."

Haymitch glared at her.

"'Despite it all'? What's that supposed to mean, sweetheart? What have I done? You've been bossing my ass around ever since I got here."

"I've just tried and…"

"Tried and get me to join in a few things, yeah," Haymitch said. "By doing stuff you wanna do. You're always like that. I said I didn't want to go to that party. Or ice-skate. You just don't listen. Probably prefer it when I shut up so you can talk uninterrupted."

"You don't have to sit here and be rude," mumbled Effie.

"Fine with me," said Haymitch and walked up from the table, tossing his napkin onto his plate. "Thanks for dinner."

The corners of Effie's lips were pointing downwards, her eyes fixed on the table as his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Haymitch rubbed his hand irritably against his neck that still ached, the melted snow in his hair dripping inside his shirt. He found his way back to his room, looking through the drawers trying to find a bath towel. While continuing his bitter inner monologue, the thought of looking in the bathroom never even crossed his mind. So when he didn't find what he wanted he went over to Effie's room.

The sight of her outfits hanging in the closet and her perfume filling his nostrils only irritated him more. He looked through the dresser and then opened the cabinet above the closet, digging around. He felt something terry like and tugged it out.

And a box was flung out with it, burst opened when it hit the floor. Haymitch knelt down sweeping up the content. It looked like sewing stuff. Embroideries, attached to circular frames or lying loose.
They looked old. Some of them showed pictures, others had names surrounded by flowers and birds and ladybugs.

He sat down on the bed looking more closely at them. Effie Trinket, he read. Sometimes it was just Euphemia or Mommy and Daddy. He must be looking at some of a little Effie Trinket's sewing projects from school or maybe that landlady/babysitter of hers had taught her.

You could follow her development. First there were the simple ones with easy images like a smiling face or a sun or a fish with backsides a web of threads and knots. And then there were the more elaborate ones as she got more practice, like a field of apple trees or a vase of red and yellow and purple and white tulips, or a cloudy sky full of umbrellas.

A smile crossed his lips and then he got out another embroidery and this one was unfinished. The needle and thread were still attached to the fabric, as if just put down and forgotten, parts of the flower pattern still yet to be added. The name was also just partly finished but he could read it just the same.

Alexander.

"What are you doing?"

Effie was at the door. She stared at him, at what he was holding. He gave a wave of the bundle of embroideries.

"The box fell out when I…"

Before he could finish the sentence Effie was there, whipping the embroideries out of his hand.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"Just looked for a towel," Haymitch frowned.

"There are towels in your bathroom! I told you that!"

"Geez, Eff. Overreacting much?" Haymitch got up from the bed, heading for the door. Halfway there he leaned down to pick up the box and the rest of the stuff under it but before he could Effie dove, smacking his hand.

"I'll do it!"

"What is your problem?" Haymitch shouted. "You're acting fucking psycho, Eff!"

"This is private! You don't go into someone bedroom and start looking through their possessions! Leave this instant!"

"Screw you!" Haymitch said and turned, slamming the door so hard the paintings rattled.

xXx

A round moon peeked through the curtains with Effie lying curled up on her side, eyes dry but her pillow wet from tears.

It had been a moon just like this the day of her rescue, pale and frozen up in the sky. She'd been slipping in and out of consciousness then but she remembered the echo of feet and the rough voice that she recognized even though it sounded so far from home. Someone draped a jacket around her, carrying her and she opened her eyes and there was Haymitch, with the moon in his hair.

And suddenly the self-loathing was threatening to choke her and she pulled the blanket up over her face as if that would make the feeling disappear, make herself disappear.

She hadn't even thanked Haymitch for saving her. She knew keeping her alive had been directly against President Coin's initial orders but he'd saved her still and looked out for her in a world where both sides saw her as a traitor. He didn't have to do what he'd done.

Many had wanted her dead, maybe even most of them. So much could have gone wrong and yet she'd been spared and when her nights were at their worst, – even years after the war had ended – when she didn't think she'd ever feel happy again she'd often wanted to call him because somehow she knew he'd understand.

She pulled away the blanket and got out of bed.

"Haymitch?" she said, when standing outside his bedroom, tapping her fingers against the door. "Haymitch, may I come in?"

There was not a sound from within and after a few moments Effie opened the door.
The room was empty. All the clothes spread over the floor and chairs and dressers were gone, his bag, even the empty bottles on the nightstand. A lump rose in her throat. Had he really just left? Jumped on the bus outside her apartment and taken the train back home? Her eyes went to the wall clock and before she would allow any tears to fall she dressed, getting her keys.

By the time the cab slowed down outside the train station snow had begun to fall in an unbelievable amount, making it hard to see more than a few meters.
She got out of the car and after telling the driver to wait for her she hurried out, praying the train wouldn't have left yet, that he'd still be here.

Her prayers were half-granted. The train had left around the time of their ice skate disaster. But Haymitch was nowhere to be found. Not in any of the waiting areas, not by the benches outside the entrance, not on the stairs, not on any of the platforms. He'd been there though, according to the receptionist who remembered the oddly dressed man with his bag clinking with bottles.

"But it was a while ago," she said and that's when worry clutched on to Effie's insides. The Capitol was a maze at night even for those whom had lived here all their lives. And Haymitch with a bag of bottles, in this cold weather…

"Do you know where he went?" she asked and when the receptionist pointed she said a quick thank you and hurried in that direction.

"Haymitch?" she called, trying to see through the snow and to keep from being run down by the bobbing sea of umbrellas. "Haymitch?"

Her foot clinked against something and she looked down seeing one snow covered bottle you wouldn't be able to buy in the Capitol. And she hadn't more than picked it up before spotting another one further out.

xXx

The stars were gone.

Not that he'd thought much about it but he was pretty sure they had stars. Haymitch brought the bottle to his lips wondering where they'd gone. He stretched out with a grunt, sloppily wiping away snow from his face. The trees stood dark and silent around him and the snow was melting through the back of his jacket and pants, as he lay sprawled out on the snow drift where he'd been ever since he tumbled over.

It wasn't too bad here. He sucked on his bottle, dazedly looking up at the moon fighting to shine through the snow over the treetops.
Somewhere in the darkness a voice called. At first, he didn't bother about it but as it got closer, Haymitch's eyebrows came together. Because he recognized that voice and it wasn't supposed to be heard in Twelve.

A small figure appeared through the snow, getting closer, calling his name. Haymitch grunted and rolled over to his side, away from the sound.

"Haymitch!" Effie called, almost tripped on the ice and the many empty bottles surrounding him. "Haymitch!" She knelt beside him, hand against his cold face, trying to make him look at her. "You have to get inside, right now!"

"Stop screaming," he mumbled.

"It's December! You can't lie here and be covered in snow! You will freeze to death!"

"Serves you right."

"Come now," she said, putting his arm around her shoulders, helping him to sit with Haymitch muttering at her, his breath coming out like puffs of white smoke.

The cab driver was less than thrilled when Effie finally showed up, with Haymitch leaning heavily against her and throughout the drive back he kept warning them not to dare puke on his leather car seats.

Haymitch barely noticed. Not the car ride, not being half-carried through Effie's apartment, not when she deposited him on his bed.

"You scared me to death," Effie said, unbuttoning and tugged his shirt off, doing the same with his pants, revealing a pair of washed out boxers. His skin was like ice and she dug out all the blankets she could find draping them around him. Haymitch's teeth had started chattering and she sat down on the bed, tucking him in like he'd suggested for her over the phone. She took one of his red swollen hands warming it between hers.

His eyes were half shut but he tried to focus them on her. When she let go of his hand to do the same with the other he reached out, fingers sloppily grazing against the fabric of the cloth she had wrapped around her head.

"Let me see," he slurred, trying to tug it off but he was too drunk and too cold to get a good grip. Effie pulled his hand away gently but he just tried again, eyebrows knitted together in his effort to make his hand cooperate. "I wanna see you," he mumbled.

"It's nothing to see, Haymitch," said Effie. "Try and get some sleep and we can forget this night."

"I wanna see. Please."

Effie sighed but since she was sure he wouldn't remember any of this the next day she pushed Haymitch's hand down and under the cover and then her hands went to her head, slowly starting to unwrap the bandana.
He had his eyes focused on her now, as the layers of cloth unfolded, revealing more and more of what was underneath and then there were showers of curls, a little damp and untidy from being stuffed under the cloth.

Haymitch didn't say anything for so long she thought he'd just fallen asleep, when he reached out again, stroking a strand of hair between his fingers, his knuckles just brushing against her cheek. Effie smiled but her eyes were filled with sadness and regret.

"I'm sorry, Haymitch," she said.

"I'm sorry too," mumbled Haymitch. His hand fell back onto the bed and he drifted off to sleep.

xXx

Being woken at the crack of dawn by someone's arm smacking his face and seeing Effie sleeping next to him had almost scared the hangover out of Haymitch.
But as the fragments of yesterday slowly came together again and he remembered Effie had just gotten his drunk ass back to his room, staying with him until he fell asleep, like so many times before his shoulders relaxed a little. Fucking Effie would be fun, he had no doubt. Didn't make it a good idea.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, looking back at Effie and the messy curls all over her face.

During their time together he’d seen her without makeup several times and once with nothing but towels on when he dashed into her bathroom to empty his stomach in her toilet bowl but somehow she’d always managed to keep her hair from him.

Honestly, he’d been extremely curious about her natural hair and at times, just before the alcohol soaked him completely, tried to guess the color or trick her to reveal it to him or.

He would have seen it after her rescue but just like Johanna, her tormentors had shaved her head. And before it got a chance to really grow back in again, at the hospital, she’d already made him go find her a piece of cloth to cover up the horrid, patched up cuts and continents of multi-colored bruises looking back at her in mirrors, glass panes, soup spoons.

Once or twice over the years he even pondered if she simply looked like shit underneath. Had hair like seaweed maybe or those beard lichen you found on trees back home.

And then she turned out to have the softest kind of reddish blonde hair, glistening in the winter sun. Sweet as sleep syrup.

She was terrible to have in bed though. Seriously. When she wasn't moving around as if there was not a spot in this large bed that was comfortable enough she was mumbling unconnected monologues to herself, kicking him, elbowing him, smacking his face with her forearm and then when she realized there was a warm body next to her she snuggled up close to him, arm wrapped over his chest.
Most of the blankets were a bundle at the feet of the bed but he swore he could still see the air quiver with heat.

"Eff," he muttered, trying to inch his way out of bed without waking her up so he could go nurse his hangover with the remaining bottles in his bag, but as soon as he moved Effie tightened her grip around him in her sleep, keeping him in place.

He reached out an arm, managing to at least open a window, just an inch to get some air inside. But it was enough to make Effie stir next to him, blinking awake. She gave a start when feeling someone under her hands but then she recognized him.

"Oh. Good morning, Haymitch," she said, drawing back so they wouldn't lie so close together. "How are you feeling?"

He'd expected a lecture about last night but there was no anger in Effie's eyes, just concern when looking at him and embarrassment, for waking up in his arms probably. He found his own anger all gone too. Like morning mist when the day warmed up. Add the fact he'd gotten a night of relatively undisturbed sleep, even with Effie kicking him and he was in a far better mood than he used to be in the morning. The train would leave in just about two hours and he was surprised over how strongly he didn't want to leave now when he finally would.

He must have stared at it because Effie touched her hair self-consciously, as if not knowing what to do with it.

"I don't look awful, do I?"

"I've seen worse," said Haymitch. "Bet my money you'd be blonde though, not a redhead."

"Strawberry blonde," said Effie, smiling a little. "That's what my mother always called it."

She made him company to the train station when the time came and Effie finally seemed to have run out of things to talk about, so Haymitch's ears a nice rest for a change. But just when he was about to board the train she clutched his arm, stopping him from leaving and he realized her eyes shone with tears.

"Will you ever come back, Haymitch?" she asked, taking him by surprise.

"I… sure. If you want me to."

"I'm sorry you've been miserable here", she mumbled. "I just wanted to make your first stay with me memorable. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Well, I'll never forget it, so... mission accomplished," Haymitch shrugged but when he saw her bite her bottom lip he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "No need to get so upset, Effs." He boarded the train. "See ya sometime."

Effie nodded, fearing she would tear up if she spoke. She waved at him when the train was set in motion, taking Haymitch back to District 12. And despite all their drama, she couldn't help but wish she'd been with him.

Chapter Text

The air hadn't been breathable in Haymitch's house since Hazelle's days.

Katniss zigzagged between bundles of dirty clothes, shattered glass and pools of liquor, her foot clanked into a bottle, sending it rolling over the dust bunnies and she crouched by the hearth to make a fire and keep Haymitch from catching his death in here.

The phone which had been heard on and off across the Victor's Village for the past hour started ringing again by the time a flame danced up from the coals and she heard a groan from behind.

She turned seeing Haymitch on the couch, a flowery sofa cushion bleached from years in the sun, pressed over his head.

"You know it helps if you answer it," she said.

Another groan and Katniss got to her feet and pulled the cushion away revealing a face that would make a less prepared person jump back.

"Morning Haymitch," she said, watching Haymitch's red-rimmed eyes squint up at her, just as the phone silenced again and they heard Peeta's voice.

"Well, hi, Effie. How are you?"

Haymitch sat up and despite the pounding inside his skull he waved both arms at Peeta like someone trying to keep from being run down by a car.

"Sure, he's here," the boy said, looking amusedly back at Haymitch, handing the phone over to him.

"What?" Haymitch said into the receiver, hearing Katniss and Peeta close the door after themselves when they left.

"Is that a way to answer the phone?" said Effie. "You ought to at least say hello when you pick up."

Haymitch grunted and reached for one of the bottles on the coffee table, trying to snap the seal while cradling the phone between his neck and shoulder.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I wanted to…"

The phone clanked against the empties by his feet when he dropped it.

"Haymitch?" he heard Effie's voice on the floor.

He opened his bottle and swallowed a mouthful, spitting into a clean spot on a soiled shirt, ridding some of the foul taste in his mouth.

"Haymitch? Are you there?"

He grabbed the phone from the floor.

"What?"

"Have you been drinking?" she asked and Haymitch would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been so hangover.

"No, I just got back from my morning run," he said. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to wish you a merry Christmas."

"Christmas's over, sweetheart."

"I know, but you didn't answer when I called yesterday. Did you enjoy yourself?"

Haymitch rubbed his fingers over his eyes. He didn't even remember much of yesterday. Katniss and Peeta used to make him join them for Christmas, but they couldn't carry him out on a stretcher. That's what he told Effie and she sucked in a breath.

"How could you not have celebrated Christmas, Haymitch? That's the most depressing thing I've ever heard. Christmas is supposed to be celebrated with friends and family…"

"Can't say I have either of those, sweetheart."

"Of course you do. What about Katniss and Peeta? What about me?"

"Wow. So we're friends now?"

"Of course we are. It's really hurtful you're even questioning it. And you do plan on celebrating New Year's Eve at least?"

"Why?"

"Why ever not? People in District 12 celebrate New Year's, don't they? And I don't want to think about you being drunk and alone in your house on such a day. That would completely upset my digestion."

"We'll see," said Haymitch, bringing the bottle to his lips.

xXx

Effie must have been very keen on having an undisturbed digestion because within a day she'd gone and invited herself to the Victor's Village for New Year's.

She claimed it was Peeta who invited her, but it was gate crashing nonetheless. That's what Haymitch told her when the train pulled into the snowy station and Effie took his arm, smiling sunnily at him.

"But think how nice it will be," she said and seemed to have forgotten all about their disastrous Capitol weekend. "The four of us all together, welcoming a brand new year."

She kept talking with him about this and that on their way to the Victor's Village while curiously looking around, as she'd never seen District 12 during the festive seasons.

When Christmas arrived at the Capitol they had the trees decorated with twinkling lights, spotlights showered many of the buildings in different colorful patterns, always changing.

A gigantic Christmas tree was put up on Heaven's Square, studded with more lights, thick silver tinsels and icicles. And if you wanted to escape the cold after a long day out you could always go drink hot chocolate or toddy at one of the many coffee houses or eat roasted chestnuts or burnt almonds from street stalls, making your breath all hot and sugary.

The city was never really still, never really quiet and she'd often fallen asleep to the sound of people caroling on the streets ever since she was a little girl.

Here there were sheaves of wheat fastened to poles outside many of the houses with mockingjays hoping about, chirping and picking, the snowy ground sprinkled with yellow seeds. There were snowmen and heaps of snowballs glowing from within in people's gardens and mats of fir twigs on their doorstep, to scrape your shoes clean before entering probably. And so all the snow. On the roofs, the trees, the meadows. White as far as the eye could see.

Smoke was rising from the chimneys when they arrived at the Victor's Village. From Haymitch's house too, but Effie didn't notice that until she was about to knock on the children's door, realizing Haymitch was by his own home.

"Katniss and Peeta," she began.

"They're at the bakery," he said and went inside, taking the bag she made him carry for her with him.

He bet she was forming a comment in her mind about his poor standard of living while crossing the space between the two houses and he heard her gasp when she entered.

"What, sweetheart?"

"It's just… so…"

"Clean?"

Effie stared around the kitchen. The chattered glass was gone, the floor lighter than she'd ever seen it, the kitchen sink shining in the sunlight. Clean curtains were put up before clean windows, a fresh cloth spread over the table.

"However did you manage to get this place so nice?" Effie mumbled. "It's so welcoming and cozy." She smiled at Haymitch. "Did you do all of this for me?"

"Under penalty of death by Peeta."

There was even a Christmas tree in a corner, under-furnished but decorated with candy canes and apples on string, frilly paper angels and pinecones. She admired it for a long time.

"Did you and Katniss and Peeta decorate it together?" she asked and Haymitch could hear on her voice how much she liked that thought.

"Mm."

"You know what we should do?" she said and Haymitch frowned when he heard the eagerness in her voice. "We should throw a big New Year's dinner party here and everyone would see what a lov…"

The exhausted expression on his face cut Effie off. She was silent for a long moment, perhaps remembering Haymitch on the run from his birthday.

"What if …”, she said slowly, “it's just us? And… maybe the Hawthorne family?"

"They're in Two."

Haymitch sank down on the couch and Effie took a seat across from him, sitting like a queen in his armchair where the stuffing showed here and there.

"It's a wonderful day," she said. "We should not waste it. I could show you my new winter outfits or we could go into town or how about a nice cup of tea?"

"Nope," said Haymitch, his stomach churning at the very thought of the stuff Effie called tea. "You decided everything we did in the Capitol, Effs, so I get to choose what we'll do here."

"OK. Fair enough. What do you want to do then? And remember, Haymitch," she added quickly. "I never meant for you to fall on the ice or get lost in the park so you don't have to choose the thing you hope I’ll hate the most just for revenge."

Haymitch raised his eyebrows at her.

"I was gonna suggest we go join the kids and you'll see the bakery. But now that you mention it, we will go… hiking," he said, uttering the first thing that came to mind.

"Hiking?" said Effie, in disbelief.

"Hiking," nodded Haymitch. "We’ll have ourselves a good and nice day, enjoying nature. Livin’ in the moment. You’re into that kind of nonsense, aren’t ya?"

"Since when do you move your butt willingly?” Effie asked with a wrinkled forehead. “And we can't go out in the woods today! Have you seen how much snow it is? No, no, that's out of the question.”

"That's sad," said Haymitch with a sigh. "Alright. Not much left for me to do then ‘cept getting drunk, I guess."

A crease appeared between Effie's eyebrows.

"There's absolutely no need for you to drink, Haymitch."

"Well, I wanted to go get some fresh air and maybe enjoy a cup of joe with you but I guess I'll have to make do with the booze."

He got up from the sofa and when he returned from the kitchen he brought with him a bottle of white liquor and a glass.

"Why can’t we just take a nice long walk down the road? What do you want to go hiking for?" Effie asked.

"Don't wanna go hiking," Haymitch said. "I want a drink.”

He made a point of pouring the liquor into the glass. All the way to the top. Emptied the lot right in front of her causing Effie to frown even more. He refilled the glass and raised it to her in salute, making satisfied noises as he drank. Then he tipped the bottle up again and,

"Stop!" Effie said, hand on his arm. "Stop drinking! I'll go with you if it's so important." She huffed in irritation for rising to his provocation. "At least you get to see my newest winter outfit. It’s spectacular! I had it especially made for the cold winters here."

He showed Effie to her room upstairs and then he had to wait almost an hour for her to get ready. By the time she finally showed, a light but definite snow had begun outside.

Haymitch rolled his eyes at the sight of her.

"It's the latest in fashion!" she said, throwing her arms out.

Of course it is, he thought. Because like everything in Effie's wardrobe, the oddly shaped cross between a dress and a snowsuit that she wore now looked more decorative than functional; not suited for a Twelve winter by a long shot.

"Better ask Katniss if you can borrow her snowsuit", he said.

"What for? I'm already wearing this."

"You'll freeze your lil’ ass off."

"I'm perfectly equipped, Haymitch. What's going to be really interesting is watching you hike.”

"Suit yourself," said Haymitch. He was never one to waste breath on Effie when she insisted on being a fool. "Just don't get all whiny on me when you’ve lost a toe or two.”

It really was quite cold Effie noticed when they got outside. It wasn’t just snowing. It was windy too, pinching both your nose and cheeks. But she told herself she’d warm up as they walked and followed in Haymitch's tracks without complaint.

"Where are we going exactly?" she asked once they were surrounded by trees on all sides.

"You want it written down on a clipboard or something?" Haymitch called over his shoulder. “Hiking’s just walking with sturdier clothes on. Well, some of us,” he added. “And there’s no place we need to be so just relax, why don’t ya?”

"It's, it's too much snow," Effie said, already getting behindhand. "Hold on!”

Haymitch held on. Effie joined him her, with cheeks already reddened by the cold and the sleet and the effort of walking in snow that reached her mid-calf. She looked at her wristwatch and said, out of breath,

"Well, that was a nice little walk. I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. What do you say we head back and brew ourselves a nice cup of …”

"Seriously, Eff? We just left the house. What are you, a wuss?”

“That’s no way to speak to a lady! Don’t you call me names! Manners!” She huffed a breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “Is this even safe? There’s no signs or anything. Do you know these woods?”

“Better than you.”

Already starting to regret this whim, Haymitch headed on without another word and Effie walked in the footsteps he plowed up. The snow was coming down in earnest now. Even though he was taller than her, with longer legs, Haymitch felt himself getting a little winded himself, as they crossed the space right were the fence used to go.

The trees were clothed in white after the great snowfalls of the last few days. You could see the sun but it was dim, like a lamp behind a shower curtain and the silence was only broken by the whistling wind. The occasional flap of birdwing and…

"I’m cold!” Effie called, several steps behind again. "I’m really cold, Haymitch. What if I get pneumonia? What then?”

“Well, it’ll be one less whiny bitch in the world, I’d say,” Haymitch shouted over his shoulder.

“That’s very hurtful!” Effie shouted back. “Very!”

Haymitch didn’t response. He just kept walking deeper into the wild and, despite her complaints, Effie followed in his tracks. It was a beautiful winter day really, or it would have been if not for this insane snowfall that stuck to you and filled your eyes and the gusts of wind knocking you this way and that.

“Waait!”

Haymitch sighed and stopped, to let Effie catch up. And for himself to catch his breath. Sweat was trickling down his back, but his face was ice cold. He shook his body like a dog to get some of that snow off but there was just more coming on.

"My hands, they hurt," Effie said, clutching them. She looked about as cosy as a frozen turkey. "I've got snow in my shoes. I can’t feel my ancles. What if I do lose a toe? Do you really want that on your conscience?”

The wind blew more ice crystals in their faces and Effie whimpered, shoulders up to her ears.

"I’m hungry. I’m tired. And I've already travelled all day! You could at least let me settle in first. Made me some tea with honey and spices and maybe some of Peeta's rolls with strawberry jam. Sitting by the fire together, having a nice conversation. Why, why are we plodding through the snow right now going absolutely nowhere? Oh, I know! It’s because you’re so petty you want to get back at me for that Capitol fiasco of mine. That’s all! You want me to be sorry? Fine! I’m sorry!” Then, as if getting a brilliant lightbulb idea, she added in an eager voice, "In the Capitol we have sightseeings. Hovertrains which take you around the mountains. My mountains! We could do that? Next time. We'll go back to the Victor's Village now and then, the next time you visit…"

"You give up so easily, sweetheart," Haymitch snarled. "The Effie Trinket can't handle a little snow?"

"Little snow," muttered Effie surly.

OK, a lot of snow, thought Haymitch. It was getting colder too. More windy.

This meant him losing but yeah: Probably for the best he didn’t pull her deeper into the wild.

“Alright, alright. Fuck this shit.”

“Language,” Effie said but with an undeniable spring in her step when she followed in his wake as he turned, heading back toward the Victor’s Village and Twelve.

Only where was Twelve?

Haymitch wiped the snow from his eyes, squinting ahead. Looking for any familiar landmarks.

“The fuck? Where am I?”

“That’s not funny!” Effie cried, right at his heal. “Not funny in the least! Now take me home!”

The snow hit them mercilessly, making it almost impossible to keep your eyes open. They staggered on as Haymitch tried to follow their tracks back but their footprints were already getting erased.

"I truly hope – for your sake – you know where we are, Haymitch?”

"Ever heard the words pain and ass put into a sentence, Eff?"

"Just concentrate on getting us back!"

But that wasn't as easy a task anymore. They couldn’t be far out but what little he could see through the snow was just the woods. Shit. No rooftops. No lights. Nothing but the trees and the whiteness that pained you face.

This is bad.

"Where are we? I can't see where we are." The annoyance had left Effie’s voice, revealing the fright underneath. He heard her whimper, reminding him of the fact that if he felt cold, it was nothing compared to Effie, dressed as she was in that idiotic get-up.

"It's just a bit further," he said.

It must be. He'd go insane if it wasn't. If each step he took just brought her deeper and deeper into the wilderness. Why the fuck did he take them out hiking? What a royally stupid idea!

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, trudging ahead. Adding minute to minute. He tried to walk on top of the snow but he almost always sunk deep. It felt like swimming in molasses and he gasped for breath. The wind seemed to suck the very oxygen out of the air.

"Just keep going," he called, having to shout to be heard. But he was talking to thin air because Effie was not beside him anymore. Having fallen behind again no doubt. "Eff?" he shouted. “Eff?” And for the first time since all of this had happened he felt the first real stab of fear. "Effie? Eff!"

He turned around in a circle. Looking everywhere. Seeing only snow and those thick frozen tree trunks.

“Sweetheart!” he shouted but the wind stole most of his voice. “Princess, where are you?”

His heart pounded in his chest, filling every bit of him with adrenaline as he walked ahead, looking for her.

“Effs, come on, stop fucking around!”

No reply. Or if there was, it was drowned out by the storm. He was following no path at all now. Just lunged ahead, going nowhere. Just looking for her. Her colors. Trying to remember what colors they were.

Then, up ahead … Haymitch squinted. Wiped his face and then some. A cold hand clutched his heart at the sight, making it hard to breathe. A heap of snow, just ahead. As if someone had passed from the cold, collapsed and …

“Effie!!” He leapt forward. Sunk to his knees as he dug his hands in, shoveling the snow away by the armfuls. “Effs, hold on. Hold on!”

“What on earth are you doing?”

He whipped his head around so fast, his neck all but cracked.

Behind him stood Effie. Covered in white from head to toe like a snowman. She shielded her eyes with her hand, staring at him crouched on the ground.

Haymitch’s eyes flung to the heap in front of him, then at Effie, then back again.

“I thought I … I thought you …”

Flushed with anger that replaced the initial relief he staggered to his feet. He wiped his hands off in agitation and was by Effie’s side in less than two seconds.

"Don't wander off like that, damn it! You almost gave me a heart attack."

“I didn’t wander off,” Effie objected. “You walk too fast. I already told you…”

"We have to stay together, for fuck’s sake!" He grabbed her by the hand to pull her along. Didn't mean to be so rough, but Effie yelped out when she staggered a step forward. He grunted something and held her gentler but still firmly, as if afraid she'd be taken right out of his hand. Blown away with the wind.

They kept trudging forward, hand in hand, like a pair of lost children as the wind squeezed tears from their eyes.

But like twenty minutes in, the snowfall calmed some. At least enough to allow you to spot the sky somewhat and the way up ahead more than just a few feet.

“Look,” Effie pointed, moments before he saw it himself.

Lights. Tiny lights, but there. The Victor’s Village. Katniss and Peeta’s house.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Effie said, squeezing his hand. “We’re saved! Oh, heavens, I’m not going to die in the snow with you after all! I’m so relieved!”

xXx

Dressed in robes and slippers, Haymitch carried a tray of teacups, sugar and cream into the living room. There, Effie had already made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs pulled up to his fire burning on the hearth. She was dressed in a similar robe but keeping her feet in a makeshift footbath made from a bucket.

Hands outstretched, she warmed her swollen, red fingers close by the playful flames.


“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Haymitch warned. “I really wouldn’t.”

“Why? I won’t burn myself,” Effie said. “It’s heaven! You should try it! No need to be such a mother hen all the time.”

“Fine,” Haymitch said, but he had no sooner set the tray on the side table between them before Effie whipped her hands back with a small gasp, as if she had in fact burnt herself on those flames.

“Ow …”, she said in consternation. “Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow, oooow!”

Without a word or even a mocking “told you”, Haymitch caught one of her flinging hands in his. Then the other. Sitting down in the opposite armchair, he gently massaged her red fingers and palms, in turn.

“Don’t they teach you anything in that so called school of yours?” he asked.

Effie allowed herself a half-smile.

“Well, at least these things don’t happen in my town. And even if they did, I could’ve always taken you to the Caldarium afterward."

"K. What’s that? A torture chamber?”

"Our bathhouse. It’s divine.”

“Well, I’ll take a bath with ya right here,” Haymitch said, nodding toward his own bathroom. “If you ask nicely.”

“Ha-ha.” Effie followed the movements of his hands as he continuously got some circulation back into her frozen fingers. “It’s something of a spa” she told him. “Jacuzzis in five different sizes. Warm, fragrant water full of bubbles, hot steaming saunas, full body massages with oil or honey or melted chocolate."

"Chocolate, huh?"

"Yes." It came out like a sigh.

"What good is that? Sounds wasteful to me."

"It's refreshing. Beneficial for the skin too."

"And here I thought you guys only use that for the bedroom."

"I never use melted chocolate in the bedroom," Effie said. "Too messy."

"There's a better alternative?"

"Well, I … Oh, hush."

Haymitch grinned and Effie drew a deep, content little breath.

“What a day. I am never going out in the woods ever again." She met his gaze, a playful glint in those gorgeous blues. "I should have known better than making friends with people whose roads aren't asphalted." Then she grew serious. “Don’t lose me like that again. Okay?”

Haymitch gave a slight shake of his head, re-focused on her hands.

”Never”, he said. “Can’t. You stick like glue.”

xXx

The following days went by more or less peacefully over at the kids' house, with only Effie bustling about going over the menu for their New Year's dinner and decorations.
Haymitch was mostly in the way but he went into town when they needed stuff and then he played chess with Peeta watching Effie flit about the rooms in full escort mode. It was just the clipboard that was missing.

They spent one afternoon, well into the night dipping candles. They sat at the kitchen table making pomander balls by sticking cloves into oranges hanging them up by bright red ribbons in the windows so its fresh scent could fill the rooms.

And when New Year's Day arrived crisp and cold, she forced Haymitch to sweep the floor and make paths between the houses with the sun glittering off his shovel and the icicles hanging from the rain gutters.

But he'd had worse dinners, he'd give her that. Even if he had to wash the food down with lemonade after she managed to bribe him into a sober New Year's by promising eight bottles of his favorite Capitol whiskey when she returned home.

They spread the table with a fresh cloth and laden it with plates of wild turkey and rice cooked together in a thick sauce with carrots and cream and almonds. Most of dinner Haymitch and Peeta sat trying not to choke on their food, listening to Effie's hilarious small talk with Katniss.


"I must say, Haymitch," Effie smiled, half-through. "I'm having a really nice time."

"You sound surprised, sweetheart."

"Oh, no. I've always been convinced you must have nice moments in District 12 too. And see, I was right!" she beamed, reaching for the jug, refilling his glass.

"Glad to hear it," said Haymitch, leaning back in his chair. "Cause you know how it ends, don't ya?"

"With a new year?" said Effie, who had already turned her focus on Katniss and Peeta. "Would you like some more lemonade, dear ones?"

"Stroke of midnight will be at the Hob," said Haymitch and Peeta's glass spilled over its edges.

As long as any of them could remember, the people in the Seam joined together at the Hob on New Year's, where the fire and company, booze and the warmth of a cup of broth could almost make you forget just how miserable your life was, if only for a moment. It'd been a Seam thing when the building was still located there, not far from where Haymitch's old house had been, but after they rebuilt the Hob closer in town it turned into something of a tradition for the whole district.

Effie was nervous, despite her great efforts to hide it. He could tell just by the way she clutched his arm on their slow walk into town. And who could blame her? He wondered if she'd ever really talked to anyone in Twelve apart from them and the mayor when not standing on the stage at the reaping. But everyone already knew she was back and if she was going to keep coming back, might as well make it official.

Effie shivered, looking enviously at Haymitch's sturdy jacket. It was so quiet, she swore she could hear his heartbeat. The road glittered in the moonlight, the night sky stretching out endlessly above them. She'd never really paid proper attention to the stars until her return in District 12 after the war.

You could never see them from the Capitol – although they did have starlight installations in some areas on special occasions – and whenever she'd been on the train in the late hours during the Games her eyes had so often been glued to her clipboard. But the starry sky above them now twinkled and glittered in a way that would put even the most excellent jeweler to shame.

People looked their way when Effie entered the Hob with Haymitch and Katniss and Peeta but it was mostly looks of mild interest, if none at all, before people returned to their drinks and food and conversations.

Place was full of people standing in groups or sitting by the tables or being squeezed together on the sofa. Some of the children sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, sharing an orange from one of the many bowls around the room. The flames on the hearth reflected itself in their eyes.

She was called Greasy Sae, the woman running the eatery – such a peculiar name – and when she wasn't taking people's food orders she talked with Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch; the sound of more people at her back, working in the kitchen.

It was strange watching Haymitch on Hob ground. There was an air of mutual respect between the people here, Effie noticed. Of knowing where you had each other. And even if Haymitch still wasn't very sociable he talked more than he'd ever done over at her place and the slightly hostile look on his face was gone.

Bristel and Thom, Gale's old crew mates, soon joined them along with a girl and a boy with identical yellow hair and they spent most of the night talking with them and with Greasy Sae.

"She's so fond of you," Effie said when she got a moment alone with Haymitch. "Mrs. Sae. Have you been friends with her for long?"

Haymitch nodded.

"She delivered me."

A startled look crossed Effie's face so Haymitch told her about the old days when Katniss's grandparents were still in charge over the apothecary. They were the closest to doctors the people of Twelve had, but Sae had always been the midwife. Since she was but a girl herself. Same as her mother who taught her everything she knew.

Before the end of the war, Sae always arrived with her little bag whenever a woman was close to her time. Seam and town’s people alike hired her. The old woman was known for her safe expertise and gentle hands and not even the richest most Seam-stuckup in town had anything negative to say about her.

Effie listened to his story without interrupting him and an image flooded her mind of a tiny baby Haymitch with huge gray eyes and cute little fingers and toes and not a scowl on his face. She smiled, just as Thom returned from Ripper's counter bringing cups of something hot and steaming, too reddish to be coffee.

"That’s…", Effie began.

"Mulled wine," said Haymitch, taking a mouthful. "Doesn't count."

He gave her a cup. Its rich fragrance filled her nose and Effie took a tiny sip. It tasted sweet and fruity, the alcohol was only just noticeable but its warmth spread throughout her.

She should have known it was just Haymitch being bored and wanting to mess with her when he told her stories about the barbaric district men and women who frequented the Hob eating Capitolians for breakfast, and almost bringing her own breakfast up by giving her vivid descriptions of Greasy Sae's specialties like her concoction of mice meat, pig entrails and tree bark. When in fact the tomato soup with basil leaves served today looked just as palatable as their Capitol version.

Haymitch sipped his cup of mulled wine, his eyes never leaving Effie, watching her talk with Delly Cartwright and her kid brother. Even when wearing a much more toned down dress than usual Effie still stuck out, surrounded by people's weather-bitten faces and sturdy simple clothes.

She was holding a very low profile, Haymith noted, undoubtedly because she was so aware of her history here. But despite what she'd been known as to the people in Twelve, they treated her with kindness and respect. Her friendship with Katniss and Peeta seemed to be enough for most of them to accept her or at least tolerate her.

Effie felt his eyes on her and gave him a warm smile and the emotion that filled him was so strong it almost overwhelmed him: he was so glad that she was here.

At the stroke of midnight, when people counted down from ten, both of them actually joined in until finally everyone in the Hob called out a "Happy New Year!" hugging and kissing each other, left and right.

Effie smiled at Haymitch and Haymitch smiled at her.

"Happy birthday, Eff," he said and without a word Effie rested her hands against his elbows, stood on tip-toe and kissed him on the cheek. The kiss landed at the corner of his mouth, which was never her intention.

It lasted only a second and yet it was enough to make his heart jump in his chest. Then the moment broke and he stared at her, blood flooding his cheeks. Effie's face was as red as his and she barely dared looking him in the eye.

Despite how innocent the kiss had been, her heart pounded and she tried to hide her embarrassment by hugging Katniss, hugging Peeta and then excused herself, heading for the restroom to escape Haymitch's eyes.

The sound of the bathroom door closing shut seemed to resonate inside her, like the echo of a stone gate. Her whole body was tingling. His touch still lingered on her mouth and the feel of his scratchy cheek and the softness of his lips made heat build up between her legs.

This is Haymitch, she thought, over and over again. Compose yourself, Effie. This is Haymitch.

Someone pulled down the handle on the other side of the door.

"It's occupied," Effie called but it opened and shut still and there he was. They stared at each other as Haymitch towered over her in the small space and her heart hammered in her chest. One second passed, two. She saw the fever in his eyes and her breaths quickened.

"Haymitch." That was all she got out before his lips were on hers so brutally they stumbled back a step. His hand shot out to keep them from falling over the toilet. Effie wrapped her arms around him, a moan escaping her lips as she kissed him back, his hands all over her body, touching her shamelessly.

She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, tugging it off, kissed his neck, his shoulder and up to his mouth again, driving him crazy. She was so warm and soft, God help him! He moaned, flat-out gasped when her hand went down his chest and stomach until it came to rest over his hardness, stirring his body more awake than it'd been in years.

"Eff," he gasped, the desperation clear in his voice. "Effie."

She stroked him through the fabric and he moaned again, pulling at the top of her dress, freeing more skin and when his stubble grazed her when he kissed her there Effie gasped, head thrown back, close to release just by this, desire coursing through her in hot waves leaving her so wet she could barely think.

Her breathing grew more and more labored as he caressed her up her inner thigh and when he grazed over her centre through the undergarments Effie muffled a pleasure scream behind her hand when suddenly, without warning, the door swung open.

Katniss stared at them, mouth agape, seeing her former mentor and escort half-naked tangled together in the small bathroom. Effie stumbled back from Haymitch, eyes darting from Katniss to Haymitch and down to her half-exposed chest and she turned her back to them with a gasp and burning cheeks.

"What?" Haymitch barked out, looking at Katniss. His face was smudged with Effie's lipstick.

"I'll never be able to unsee this…" Katniss said, looking nauseated just as another familiar face came visible around the corner. Peeta, who called out in surprise, actually taking a step back and Haymitch slammed the door shut, locking it.

Effie still had her back turned to him, fervently trying to adjust her dress, her makeup, so embarrassed she was close to tears. And as the lust for her slowly faded again he tried to make sense of what the hell just happened.

"Effie, I…"

"I shouldn't be here," Effie whimpered, still trying to get her clothes back in some sort of order. "I will never be able to face them again! This wasn't supposed to happen! It wasn't supposed to happen!" She met his gaze, face hot with anguish. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered and fled the room.

Chapter Text

The little girl hopped down the stairs, her black shoes echoing around the stone walls as she went.

Chapter Text

A voice tried to reach her through the darkness. She knew it must be concerning her even if she couldn’t make sense of what was said, what they wanted. She floated through nothingness but the voice kept calling her.

“Effie? Miss Effie, can you hear me?”

She felt something soft and silky under her fingertips. A groan escaped her lips when she moved, reality bringing a dull aching with it.

“It’s alright miss Effie, you’re in the hospital.”

And slowly Effie opened her eyes, the simple act almost too great an effort. Her chest rose and fell in soft breaths as her gaze came to focus on a square of clear blue sky.

The woman kept talking in a soothing voice but it was like the reassurances were concerning somebody else with Effie just badly wanting to lift her hand and ward her off; to make that flow of words end.

“There’s someone here to see you,” the nurse said. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

And then she was gone and another person came into her field of vision. His skin ashen, a scowl on his face when looking down at her.

“Haymitch?” Effie mumbled, her voice slurred.

“Well, you do just about anything to get me back to the Capitol don’t ya, sweetheart?”

“Where… when…”

“You downed a bottle of pills. Remember that?”

Effie’s eyebrows came together, as if trying to make sense of it.

“Piece of luck you’re still alive”, Haymitch said. “Gave me one of my top worst days ever, while you were at it. Congratulations, sweetheart, that’s a feat.”

He pulled a chair to the side of her bed, rubbing his hand against his face tiredly.

“The kids are worried sick for you”, he said. “I think they’ve both just about had it with our hospital drama.”

“You told them?” Effie croaked. “Why did they have to know?”

“Because they care about you. We all do.”

“Do you, really?” she said and Haymitch frowned at her tone.

“Why do you think I came all the way here for? It was just a stupid fight, Eff. It’s not like we haven’t had plenty of those before.”

Effie looked away, into the wall, so he wouldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes.

“Did you do it on purpose?” Haymitch asked and Effie released a breath.

“I just wanted to sleep.”

She pressed her eyes shut, against the painful throbbing in her head. Haymitch moved in his chair.

“Drink this.”

“I don’t want it,” Effie said. A lie.

“If I had to you have to.”

“I don’t have to do a thing, Haymitch!”

“Come on, sweetheart. Quit being so stubborn,” he said and there was something in his voice that made her accept the glass. When he leaned in helping her to take a few sips she got a closer look on him. His chapped lips, his wrinkled shirt, the dark shadows under his blood-shot eyes.

“Did you sleep?”

Haymitch’s eyebrows came together.

“Don’t worry about me, Eff. Worry about yourself.”

“You shouldn’t have told the children. Now you’ve only upset them. I’m in control.”

Haymitch snorted.

“Sure you are.” 

“There’s no reason for you to be here. Go home to Katniss and Peeta. Tell them I’m perfectly fine.”

“You overdosed, Eff. That’s a big enough reason in my book.” He put the glass back on the nightstand with an exasperated sound. “I’ll be coming home with you the moment they let you out,” he said, meeting her scowl with one of his own.

“And what if I say no?” Effie muttered.

Haymitch shrugged.

”Then you’ll have to shoot me.”

xXx

Rain fell in relentless sheets, turning the Capitol into a blur of colors and lights. Water ran in streams down the roads, thrumming against the shiny cars parked by the curb.

Even if you could still hear the distant sound of people singing and chanting, the beating of music, many would be disgruntled about tonight’s downpour.

One of the many differences between the Capitol and the districts was the city’s ability to control the weather, to answer whatever came with a countermove.

Capitolians weren’t at all against great snowfalls turning their city into a winter paradise – around Christmas and New Year’s it was a must – or really hot summer days as soon as it didn’t reach over a certain temperature.

They had all the weathers just like the rest of Panem but it never lasted to the point it brought discomfort. The public garden could be full of snow and pretty lights at the same time as the shopping avenues were toasty warm.

Drizzle could be turned to steam before it even reached the roof tops, cold summer days were balanced out with warm air blown through the city and too hot ones were fixed by the same principle.

So many ways to trick and hide and alter.

But the rain, real rain like tonight, the Capitol couldn’t beat. Not well enough. The city would be dry and warm again within minutes once it was all over but when it fell there was nothing you could do but let it fall and hope it would get better.

Effie’s nightgown was soaked with sweat as she clutched on to Haymitch, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

“Breathe, Eff,” Haymitch muttered. “Gonna pass out on me if you do that. You gotta breathe.”

The clock was close to four in the morning and it was three days since he moved it. Three days like this.

Effie’d said the overdose was an accident and he didn’t think she was lying about that. But it felt like his failure that she thought her only option was to take more and more pills, when he was just a phone call away.

No objections left her lips when he got rid of the medicine bottles but sometimes he thought the most merciful would be to give it back to her again. Her small way of escape, just like the alcohol was his. But it was that same thought that kept him from doing it. The pills were gone. Now she had only him.

He would gladly have escaped it all, just gone and found a bottle and run. If there ever was a way of coping he hadn’t been invited to that meeting.

But he stayed by Effie’s side. When she didn’t want to be touched he didn’t touch her. When she needed his comfort he was there. After unspeakable nightmares that almost broke her voice he gave her hot water with teaspoons of honey and when yet another panic attack had her in its grip, almost as painful to watch as it must be for her, leaving her mute and motionless on the bed he stroked her back in soothing circles, mumbling soft words to her until she focused her gaze on him again.

Most of the time he just held her or, more often, was someone she could hold on to, her body shaking with heartbreaking, helpless sobs that never seemed to end. For the children she reaped, for all those who died when she was spared, for her days at the mercy of the men in white robes, for her nights in an endless darkness, long since abandoned the belief anyone would come for her.

That day when Katniss blew up the arena he’d intended to not let Effie out of his sight but in the end they still got separated. That Effie had been captured because of him was something he knew for a fact. In a different way but at the same time so similarly to how Annie had been captured because of Finnick.

He remembered telling Katniss about the president letting him live as an example because he knew he had no leverage against him. Katniss had said ‘Until Peeta and I came along’ and he couldn’t even bear giving her an answer because her statement was just half the truth. He’d let his escort grow too close as well. Not consciously but enough to put her in danger.

He’d known almost as long as he’d known her that Effie Trinket was different and he wanted to keep her safe. Problem was he didn’t always know what that was. Keeping her close was dangerous for her but so was the opposite.

After her capture, Plutarch made good on his promise to keep searching for her through his Capitol insiders and Haymitch had just seen Katniss after she was admitted to the burn unit, when there was finally something. Plutarch, as usual, was ever the optimist. Beetee, not so much.

“I shouldn’t keep any high hopes, Haymitch,” he said. “Even if she’s still in the building she’s probably gone.”

But it was a straw to grasp at and Haymitch asked for an audience with the president. He was already furious with Coin, for several reason most of which concerned Peeta and Primrose. But he kept calm for Effie’s sake, listened to the president’s objections and how she so clearly didn’t plan on wasting time and resources on an escort whom had already served her purpose – even though she used other words.

Plutarch put forth the argument Effie was imprisoned for being Haymitch’s associate, branded rebel and traitor of the state and he talked a lot about the symbolic meaning of having her by the Mockingjay’s side on Snow’s televised execution.

And together they managed to at least get a meeting of whether or not sending out a rescue team to get the escort and the handful other men and women imprisoned for collaborating with the rebels.

How proud he’d been of Effie that day when she gave them gold trinkets, saying they we’re a team. Worried about the Capitol’s certain reaction too but still so proud because it could so easily have been the other way, couldn’t it? If Katniss had pulled out those poisonous berries under Dandridge’s regimen she would have gone straight to authorities and filed a report against them.

But Effie hadn’t. She’d sided with them, wholeheartedly, with everything to lose.

And then he just returned to his life, leaving Effie behind after the war, when he should have asked her to come with them to Twelve or at least let her know it was an option.
When Katniss wouldn’t open the door for him he’d at least talked with Greasy Sae and had the old woman look after the girl, make sure she ate and was cared for.

Who did Effie have? Her parents were dead. The few relatives she had were lost in the war. He didn’t know much about her friends but knowing the Capitol and how secretive Effie was, he doubted she confided in a lot of people.

Effie had stilled somewhat in his arms, her face hot and wet from tears.

“I’m sorry, Haymitch,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“’bout what?”

“The things I said about your mother. It was awful. I was awful. And I regret it so much.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Effie croaked. “I never did. You were right. You should’ve left me to…”

“Not true and you’d know it too if you weren’t so exhausted,” said Haymitch. He smoothed back her damp hair from her face. “Try and get some rest, Effie.”

“No,” Effie sobbed. “It will only start again. I don’t want it to start again.”

Her hands were so cold and he enveloped them in his warm ones, his neck all wet from her tears.

“What’re we gonna do with you, sweetheart,” he mumbled.

The nights got so long, endless with daylight bringing an apathy in Effie that wasn’t much better. He spent the days talking to her and tried to make her eat or at least drink, until the inevitable night that she so dreaded brought on its next chapter of hell.

That day in the hovercraft when the power from takeoff made Effie’s coat dance around, he’d watched her hand lifted in goodbye and believed she would be OK. Because she was Effie Trinket. Because she wasn’t self-destructive.

He knew she had moved back into her old building that was almost completely unscratched. Plutarch told him about her giving housing to those who weren’t as lucky, about her volunteer work and getting employment at that school. When hearing she returned to her life he went back to his.

And she had found ways to keep herself going for stretches of time. Wasn’t so strange really when you thought about it; how she used all of her activities as ways to keep herself busy, not so different from how he drank, Katniss hunted and Peeta baked.

And then there were days like this.

That was the worst part, not seeing her suffer but knowing she’d suffered all along. On her own.

The first real nice summer morning, many days later, Haymitch woke with Effie curled up close to him, their arms around each other like a pair of children seeking comfort during a thunderstorm.

Her eyelashes were dark against her cheeks but no surprise there really. She was far too pale for his liking, save those dark shadows under her eyes.

He disengaged himself from her, carefully so he wouldn’t wake her and got out of bed, getting a bottle from his bag. He scratched his cheek, feeling how beardy he’d gotten and swallowed a few big mouthfuls of liquor.

When he looked back at Effie he met a pair of Capitol blue eyes.

“Hey,” she mumbled. Her voice was raspy, but at least she was talking. He walked back to her, bottle in hand, and sat down on the bed.

“It’s a nice day,” he said. “We should go out.”

Effie watched the shaft of light illuminating him from behind and looked away again.

“I look terrible,” she mumbled.

“Who cares?” said Haymitch. He rubbed his hand against his neck, stretched out his shoulders with a grunt. “How about Twelve?” he said. “We’ll see the kids and… what?” he added when he saw her face. “You don’t want to see Katniss and Peeta?”

“Of course I do,” Effie said softly. “It’s just… what will they think of me, Haymitch? After what happened. If I’d been stronger they wouldn’t have had to worry about me. And you wouldn’t have to…”

“They already thought you’re a nutcase,” Haymitch said. “Not much to add there. And guess what, sweetheart? We love you anyway.”

xXx

And so Effie got to see the Meadow and it was just as peaceful and beautiful as she’d imagined it. Katniss and Peeta were with them, sitting cross legged on the grass.

They almost hugged the life out of Effie when she got here with Haymitch. But despite being the one who looked like she’d had a good night’s sleep around a thousand years ago Effie didn’t fail to fuss over the kids like she always did.

Haymitch was content sitting leaned back against a tree and didn’t contribute much to the conversation.

He’d sworn he would never set his foot on the Meadow again. Not after what it’d been used for.

It was Peeta who eventually changed that.

When he returned to Twelve with the boy, Peeta had taken to the habit of wandering around the district and the edges of the woods. The Meadow too.

Haymitch didn’t like the idea of him walking through the ashes and had talked with him about it several times but since he wouldn’t stay home Haymitch went with him instead, to keep him from getting hurt or stray too far.

He’d had better walks, that’s for sure. Fuck. But it seemed to give the boy some odd sense of peace, facing it and because it did, it gave him some too.

Haymitch yawned, watching Effie through half shut eyes.

When was the last time things had been this peaceful with all four of them together? Effie wasn’t the only one to blame for how things usually escalated, even if he liked to think so.

He’d overheard Katniss say to Peeta once that a meal presided over by just Haymitch and Effie was bound to be a disaster and that was true not only for the meals.

Effie drove him up the wall in a way no one else managed. She was his royal pain in the neck. But she was also one of the few people who put up with him and all of his drunkenness, keeping him out of more trouble than he cared to admit.

His team player and not only when it came to their tributes that she’d been so fiercely committed to.

She always stood by his side when he fucked things up instead of just throwing him under the bus. It was like she considered herself having the exclusive right to disapprove over his behavior because she wouldn’t tolerate anyone else criticizing him.

They could be in the middle of a heated argument and if someone walked in and started hammering him about the exact same thing Effie was, she would come to his defense.

Katniss and Peeta once told him she’d totally snapped at them for making fun of his drinking and to this day it still made him smile.

She could be annoying, overly optimistic, a real drama queen at times. It didn’t matter much to him. She had a good heart. He’d learnt that a long time ago.

“Stay here this summer.”

Effie met his gaze at the sound of those words, as if unsure he really meant it. Haymitch didn’t look away.

She gave a quiet nod.

“I’d love to.”

Chapter Text

Buttercup’s ugly face poked out from under a honeysuckle bush, his ears flattened at the racket the humans were making.

It could be a glorious day to be Buttercup. A day for bush spraying and field mice chasing. A day to flop down on the grass after you ate and lick yourself clean in the warm sun.

If it hadn’t been for those humans and their endless hammering and sawing, shouting and clanking. There was no point in even trying to figure them out.

Somewhere a door opened and Buttercup turned towards the sound. A low growl could be heard deep in his throat when he saw who it was. Her he despised almost more than all of the others combined. The sun caught in the silver tray she was carrying, shining right in Buttercup’s face and the cat disappeared, quick and silent as a shadow.

“I’ve brought you some refreshments,” said Effie, her bandana looking like a big bow on top of her head when she joined her team around the skeleton of a house in Haymitch’s back garden.

Haymitch bathed in sweat. He tossed the hammer back in the toolbox, causing the nails and screws to hop and he was the first to be by Effie’s side.

“Orange juice for Katniss and Peeta,” said Effie and gave the children each a glass clinking with ice. “And for Haymitch, your favorite.”

Haymitch swept half of his blood orange juice in one go, refilled it with the content of his silver hip flask and slurped it hastily to keep any precious drops from spilling over.

Effie followed his movements with her eyes but she didn’t say anything. Instead she admired their work.

“I think they will feel at home here,” said Effie. “Who would have thought you would be so skilled at carpentry, Haymitch?”

The shelter was turning out larger then she’d expected. More like a small barn. Haymitch would be able to walk inside of it with ease when they were finished.

“Would’ve gone a lot faster too if some people had lifted a finger around here,” said Haymitch.

But Effie was unfazed by his pointed look.

“I’m keeping you hydrated and well-nourished,” she said, offering them some dark rye bread with cottage cheese and avocado. ”You can’t build a goose pen if you don’t have the energy.”

Long had the nights been also in District 12. But being surrounded by people who cared for her and whom she could care for in turn had been good for Effie. The first night she slept undisturbed by bad dreams Haymitch turned off her alarm clock so when she finally came to it was to the sound of a mockingjay tapping on the window, the sun flooding the room.

The house was deserted but she found all three of them in Peeta’s studio. Well, she was the only one calling it studio. It was simply one of the rooms in the children’s house and when Effie opened the door, the boy stood by one of his canvases making a painting of Greasy Sae surrounded by all her grand children and by the table, which still held breakfast, Katniss and Haymitch sat, eating cheese buns and coloring.

Katniss sketched a whole lot of different things, although she seemed more preoccupied with the food and didn’t finish many of them. Haymitch on the other hand, whose drawing skills were about as well developed as his hand writing – was completely absorbed in making the most hideous caricature of Effie Trinket to ever see the light of day.

Effie cut herself a roll that she spread with goat’s cheese and added a few apple slices on top of that; a taste sensation that would always remind her of District 12. There was coffee in a thermos for her and when she had emptied half a cup Haymitch put his pen down to flex his fingers and take a mouthful of his own (liquor thinned) coffee. Or maybe his coffee thinned liquor. He pushed a paper towards Effie.

“Knock yourself out,” he said.

Effie swallowed the last of her bread and dabbed a napkin against her mouth. He thought she’d go for one of the many pencils in the old jam jar next or maybe say they really should clear the table and take care of the dishes before sitting down to draw.

She did neither.

Effie folded the paper, diagonally. She unfolded it and folded it once more on the middle. Haymitch leaned back in his chair, watching Effie’s skilled hands fold and crease the paper, turn it over, make little changes here and there, transform it into something new. She added some finishing touches of colour and then put it in front of him. A little paper creature. He picked it up.

“A goose?” he asked, looking at it from every angle. Effie nodded.

“I took lessons a few years ago. It’s called origami.”

He attempted to give it back to her.

“You can keep it,” she said. “If you like.”

Haymitch smiled and put it on the window sill and when he looked back at Effie, she was smiling too. It was the first time he’d seen it ever since that stupid morning in his kitchen.

And Effie’s paper goose evoked new life to an old thought in Haymitch.

There were quite a few useful farm animals in Twelve, if not in great numbers. One woman ran a small poultry farm, supplying the district with both eggs and chicken. One or two families kept themselves with pigs like the Mellarks had.

The Goat Man who survived the bombings by a stroke of pure luck and had loathed his time in Thirteen almost more than anyone else had returned to his raising goats as soon as Twelve was somewhat back on its feet.

He’d been one of those who had temporary housing in the Victor’s Village and even though he was the same cranky old loner he’d always been he actually found a young apprentice in Vick who helped him with the goats several days a week.

And Greasy Sae’s granddaughter, the girl who lived in her own world – her family owned a couple of sturdy young horses which were of especially good use during the winter months when the roads needed to be cleared.

Wild geese – chiefly Canada geese – thrived out in the wilderness of Twelve. Those were the first he thought of when this idea truly manifested and he asked Katniss down at the Hob if she might fill him a basket of their eggs. If she raided a few different nests they should breed alright.

But Katniss and Sae both advised against it. Canada geese are migratory animals with strong instincts to travel long distances. Getting some domestic geese was far better for raising. They were more manageable, didn’t come with restrictions and Twelve’s vet wouldn’t send the peacekeepers on him for keeping wild animals in his backyard.

Chaff once mentioned a goose farmer down in Eleven. One in particular who sold dewlap and embden geese.

He gave the owner a call and Effie volunteered as his travel companion.

“To keep you from buying half the goose farm.”

xXx

Compared with the journey to the Capitol the train ride to District 11 took no time at all.

How flat this part of Panem seemed compared to District 12, thought Effie as she watched the fields filled with chocolate and cream coloured dairy cattle, the crops which stretched out for miles and miles and in the distance, apple trees. A whole sea of them.

Gone were the ten meter fence topped with coils of barbed wire, gone were the watchtowers and the heavily armed peacekeepers.

You felt like ants under the gigantic, cloud-dotted blue sky moving over your head.

With almost an hour left until they were to meet with the geese farmer, Haymitch and Effie walked down to the glittering blue water they’d seen from the train and had a seat in the shadow of a tree close to the beach.

Watching the waves wash in you could almost believe you were in District 4 but it was actually a lake. Far out there was an island you could get to if you had a boat like the one pulled up on the sand, the name Pomona in white paint on its side.

Effie glanced at Haymitch, the expression in his eyes and she knew he must be thinking about Chaff. How could he not.

Her concern must have shown on her face because Haymitch muttered out,

“Relax, Eff. I’m not gonna break.”

Sweat trickled down his back and Haymitch rolled up his sleeves, put his hand in Effie’s pocket getting out her handkerchief that he blotted his face and neck with.

“Um, thank you,” said Effie when he stuffed it back in her hand and he undid the first few buttons in his fresh shirt which Effie had made him put on.

God, he needed a drink. He hadn’t had one all day and his silver hipflask was stuffed deep in a closet back home. Wisely so. Showing up with alcohol on his breath wouldn’t buy him any geese.

“Fuck it’s hot,” Haymitch muttered. He undid the rest of the buttons and tugged his shirt off completely, tossing it on the sand. “Wake me when it’s time to go,” he said and lay down, arm slumped over his eyes. Effie took his discarded shirt, brushed it off and folded it neatly, looking to Haymitch when a deep sigh came over his lips.

Chaff had always been more like a brother to him ever since that drunken night decades ago when Haymitch got off on the wrong floor and passed out in the victor’s bed. He’d been a frequent guest victor at the Games and when he wasn’t passing a bottle back and forth with Haymitch he made a sport out of provoking fights with peacekeepers, testing how many he could take on. He’d had a gift for getting Haymitch and himself into trouble which it often fell on Effie to get them out of.

He’d been loud, drunk and irresponsible and he’d been one of the few people who could make Haymitch laugh. Genuinely laugh like he had not a care in the world.

She watched Haymitch stretched out on the ground, arm slumped over his eyes like he was asleep which she knew he wasn’t. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was over his friend’s death but he wouldn’t appreciate her bringing it up. He never spoke of the dead. Not with her anyway.

The sunlight shone through the branches, making all that curly dark blonde hair on Haymitch’s chest seem golden. Her eyes wandered down his body to the jagged, white scar below his belly button and she always winced when she saw it. Not because it was ugly but because it always made her think about how much it must have hurt receiving it.

He was blonder than usual from long days by the goose pen. Even though she would never admit it to him, he would probably not even believe her if she did, but she really liked his hair. She couldn’t put her finger on why exactly. Maybe because it was such a rare thing to come across back home where a messy hair was frowned upon, unless styled that way on purpose.

He wasn’t a classic beauty. Some of her friends wouldn’t even call him beautiful at all. They would look at him and only see his stomach, the gray hairs in his stubble, the dirt under his fingernails, his weather bitten skin. And yes, those weren’t false observations. But they were still wrong.

She felt herself getting a little warm remembering how soft his hair had been when she buried her hands in it at New Year’s.

“Eff?” Haymitch said, without even lifting his arm from his face. “Are you undressing me with your eyes, right now?”

Effie blushed through her foundation but she didn’t let it show in her voice when she said,

“You are half undressed already.”

“You’re welcome,” mumbled Haymitch. “Who can blame you, right?” he added with a gesture towards his body.

“Yes, Haymitch,” said Effie. “You’re dreamy.”

Haymitch removed his arm from his eyes and Effie frowned when she saw the very real Chaff-up-to-no-good smirk on his lips.

“Finally gonna admit it was me, huh?”

“Admit you were what?”

“The one you thought about when you got off at the penthouse.”

Effie drew a deep sigh.

“For the very last time, Haymitch,” she said. “I did not masturbate.”

“What else was you digging for?”

“I was asleep! How do you even remember that? It was years ago.”

It’d been one of those days at the Training Center before the actual Games. Haymitch had wandered the penthouse like he so often did at night and through the windows the Capitol twinkled below, with people singing and celebrating on the streets but he had a bottle of wine in each hand and they would do good on their promise to blur it all out.

Last he saw Effie she’d been going over their tributes’ training schedule for the upcoming interviews. He reckoned she was still awake, back in her room and so he went there, thinking he could always find one way to annoy her.

Instead he found her asleep in her clothes, sprawled out on top of the bedspread. Clipboard on her stomach, slowly rising and falling with each breath.

Effie mumbled something in her sleep and a soft moan escaped her lips. She moved slightly and the clipboard slide off of her landing on the mattress with a soft thud.

He had no business here really. He took a swig from his bottle and made a move to leave when another moan, deeper this time, came over Effie’s lips. Haymitch shot her a glance. She was a whole sea of frilly, green layers. She arched her neck, lips parted when she sighed.

Haymitch’s eyebrows lifted. He was something of an expert on nightmares. And that was no nightmare. He watched her hand skim over the mattress, squeezing it lightly and a grin slowly spread over Haymitch’s face.

Not as prim and proper as you have people think, huh? he thought and a nasty idea entered his mind.

He put his bottles on a side table.

“Eff,” he said, keeping his voice low and husky. “Effs.”

Effie moved her head towards the sound and she groaned again. A tremendous laugh bubbled up inside of him, threatening to spill over but he forced it down and whispered, lingering on every syllable,

“Effie Trinket.”

A content little noise escaped Effie’s lips and she stretched out one of her long legs, her foot peeking over the end of the bed. Haymitch grinned from ear to ear and he blew softly on her toes peeking through the shoe.

Effie arched her back in response and gave a throaty groan, not at all ladylike, and her hand which had rested on her tummy moved downwards and in between her legs.

“Holy sweet mother of fuck,” Haymitch said and pulled back. OK, that he did not expect.

Despite his call just now Effie’s eyes remained closed. He couldn’t see just what her hand was doing inside all the fluff and frills and layers of her dress but her deep breathing, the moans that dropped from her lips which weren’t exactly subtle.

He swallowed thickly, frowning over his own reaction. He knew he should leave, just run fast and far but he was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze from Effie as she pleasured herself, leaving him throbbing and aching to touch himself or better yet lay down with her and find out if she would let him replace her fingers with his own.

He didn’t do any of the above, of course. He wasn’t that kind of creeper but he couldn’t stop a groan when he watched her come breathlessly and trembling against her hand, her cheeks rosy and he was so unimpressed with himself; that the annoying Effie Trinket of all people could have this kind of power over him, that a woman dressed like a clown could make his heart beat so hard.

It wasn’t until several years later that he told her about it, well… most of it and Effie had confiscated all the bottles from his quarters that season. That’s how mad she was.

“Hey, you were just having fun,” he said now, at the sight of Effie glaring at him. The knowledge of his own arousal he planned to take to his grave. “Are you as fun in the sack?”

Effie narrowed her eyes at him. Then her lips curled into an evil smile.

“I’m fantastic. You wouldn’t be able to walk after. But I’m afraid the closest you’ll ever get to a vagina any time soon is that special sock of yours.”

Haymitch’s smile vanished.

“That was low, Trinket,” he said but Effie only chuckled. And he knew someone who would’ve laughed even harder had he been here.

Chaff.

xXx

When the train pulled into District 12’s station that evening five geese were on it. Three adults and two goslings. Greasy Sae’s daughter, whom Haymitch had spoken with beforehand carted them all back to the Victor’s Village in her wagon. Effie sat next to her on the driver’s seat while Haymitch rode in the back, keeping an eye on the animals.

And he wasn’t the only one.

“You’d think people would have better things to stare at,” Haymitch said, watching the faces peeking through curtains, the people on the square who stopped to point and talk amongst themselves. Greasy Sae who stepped out the Hob with Ripper by her side watching their little entourage laughed and called after them that she expected Haymitch to sell her the eggs when the time came.

“I don’t think many of them believed you would actually go through with this,” said Effie.

“Course I would,” said Haymitch and Effie smiled at the slightly offended tone in his voice.

Haymitch had a taxing first couple of days making his new family members feel at home.

When first hearing of his decision to get geese Effie had tried to make him change his mind but when she realized that was futile she went down to District 12’s small book shop and dug out a small volume about geese keeping instead, turning herself into an expert on the subject. At least according to herself.

So while Haymitch sweated in the sun and cleaned after the animals, refilled their water, developed a feeding schedule and did all he could to make them comfortable and used to him, Effie sat by the garden furniture, reading him fun facts about geese and tossed him tips at regular intervals.

“Eff,” Haymitch finally sighed from inside the fence, positive he’d get blisters in his ears if she kept going much longer. “How about you shut up and make yourself useful for a change?”

One of the geese chose that particular moment to stretch its wings, making it look twice as large as before and Effie shuddered.

“I’m not coming anywhere near those… those… birds.”

Haymitch crouched down and scooped up one of the two goslings and with the bird in hand he got out of the fence and over to Effie.

“Here,” he said and extended the gosling to her.

Effie looked suspiciously from Haymitch to the bird and back again.

“Pet her over the back. She won’t bite ya.”

“How do you know?” said Effie. But she reached out a wary hand, stroking a finger against it like Haymitch suggested. It had eyes like drops of black ink and every once in a while it let out a sound, like a whistle.

“Well, you are rather cute,” Effie had to confess.

Haymitch took her hand in his and placed the gosling on her palm. The bird was the color of custard, light creamy brown over the back, soft as a kitten and Effie had almost started to enjoy petting it when the bird suddenly flapped its little stumps of wings and Effie gave a little shriek and before he knew it she dropped down and released the bird onto the grass. The bird flopped over, then regained his feet with a merry whistle.

“What’re you doing?” Haymitch said with an accusing look at Effie. He crouched down to pick up the gosling and carry it back to the goose pen. But he hadn’t taken into account the gosling’s intensions. When he tried to grab her she dashed out of his reach with a merry whistle. Haymitch went after and Effie too, both trying to catch the gosling and it all escalated into a zigzag chase through the Victor’s Village you’d think wouldn’t be possible with the escapee having such short legs.

“Who’s afraid of a baby?” Haymitch said.

“I’m not,” said Effie. “He startled me, that’s all.” She reached for the gosling, but it darted to the right with a loud whistle.

“Stop that! You’re scaring him!” Haymitch snapped.

At such an incredible unfairness Effie stopped short and the gosling took the opportunity to slip under a front porch.

“Goddammit.”

Haymitch squatted down by it. It was one of the empty houses where the Hawthornes had once lived. He peered through the darkness between the porch and the ground and stuck his hand inside.

“Come here before the rats get you.”

It piped and whistled under there but no gosling came out.

“Never a break,” Haymitch sighed and he got down on his stomach, stuck his hand inside as long as he could reach, feeling around. “There,” he said with a grunt, hand closing around something soft and furry. He pulled it out. “That’s the last time I’ll ever let you touch the…”

But he stopped short when he saw what he was holding.

“What is that?” said Effie. “Is it… is it a kitten?”

The little fur ball piped helplessly, covered in dirt. A whistle was heard by their feet and there stood the gosling, looking curiously up at Haymitch. Effie took her before she could make another escape.

“Poor little one. Is it abandoned?” she asked Haymitch.

“Probably,” he said and before Effie could even grow weary she’d gone and put the gosling back with the others so she could follow Haymitch inside.

“Call the Hob and see if Katniss’s there,” said Haymitch before he closed himself in the bathroom.

The cat stunk, partially covered in crusts of dirt and its own mess. He sat down on the toilet seat, holding the little creature over the washbasin. He wasn’t 100 percent sure what to do and how to wash it but he attached the plug to the bathtub and turned the water on as scorching hot as possible so the steam would heat up the room, instinctively wanting to keep it warm.

He could feel it’s every bone through the tufts of gray fur. It couldn’t be more than a few weeks old.

Effie entered a moment later and closed the door after herself, telling him Katniss was on her way.

“She will get the necessities in town,” she said. “We are to clean him little by little under the stream and keep him warm.”

Haymitch turned the faucet on a gentle stream of warm water and while Effie got out clean cotton towels from a cabinet Haymitch held the kitten in one hand while carefully washing and rinsing it with the other. The cleaner the cat got the more it meowed and moved around. A good sign, Haymitch reckoned. He cleaned and patted it with a towel, much assisted by Effie and her hairdryer.

They heard the front door open and it was a relief for both of them to see Katniss, since the girl had actually gone through this one time before when Prim made her save Buttercup.

Haymitch and Katniss retreated to the kitchen with the kitten and Effie heard their mumbling voices while she cleaned up in the bathroom, rinsed the worst out of the towels, hanging them to dry and put everything back in its places.

Haymitch sat at the table with the cat between two towels, surrounded by a variety of different items, including a kitchen scale and a small baby bottle standing in a water bath. Katniss was just dropping some milk on her wrist to feel its temperature when Effie joined them.

“Alright,” said Haymitch and cleared his throat awkwardly, moving the towels with the kitten towards Katniss. “Here you go.”

Katniss lifted her eyebrows at her old mentor.

“I already have a cat”, she said. “This one’s all yours.”

“I have geese to look after,” Haymitch frowned. He looked to Effie. “You’re a cat person, right?”

Effie smiled and had a seat across from him.

“Oh, no, Haymitch,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to separate the two of you.”

“I’ll talk you through it,” said Katniss and Haymitch gave a deep sigh.

It took a few attempts to make the kitten nurse but Katniss gently helped it to latch on and finally it was eating so desperately it hurt to see. Katniss showed Haymitch how to hold the bottle and move in time with the kitten’s movements and once she saw he got it right she went out to check that there weren’t more kittens lying around the Victor’s Village.

“I never thought I would see this,” said Effie, watching the tiny little fur ball with Haymitch awkwardly holding the bottle. It held its paws against the bottle sucking so intently you could hear it. Its soft, fluffy, gray fur was a lot darker than it had seemed when it was covered in dirt. A pair of round dark blue eyes looked up at Haymitch.

“Do you realize what this mean?” Effie smiled. “You’ve become a mommy.”

And Haymitch cared for the kitten. Reluctantly, unwillingly, unenthusiastically he cared for him just as well as any mother would, yet not without complaint.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered when it was three in the morning and he had to rub a wet towel against the kitten’s butt to make him poo. “I have geese.”

No one heard him except Scotch because Effie was back in her old guestroom. That way at least one of us will get some sleep, Haymitch had said with a sigh.

Yeah, he’d named him Scotch. A terrible name for a kitten, to hear Effie tell it.

“If you had to name him after an alcoholic beverage”, she told him when he lay on the couch, bottle of whiskey in hand and Scotch crawling over his chest, “you could at least have chosen a pretty name like Spirit or Moonshine.”

But Haymitch couldn’t be swayed. He drank his whiskey and scratched Scotch’s neck, saying he should just as well let him have Effie’s last name.

“Cause he sound like you,” he said and Scotch gave a long squeak right on cue.

Both Katniss and Peeta had asked around if there was anyone missing a kitten but none of the few people who owned cats had had any kittens at all, at least that’s what they said. There were wild cats out in the woods, Katniss could testify on that, but it was still odd.

But as far as Scotch was concerned, life was extraordinarily good anyway. And that big, muttering man who gave him milk and bathed him and, when no one else was looking, kissed him on top of his head – him he liked and once he could walk with greater ease Scotch followed him wherever he went and he protested loudly whenever Haymitch closed himself in the bathroom or had business into town.

Finally Haymitch grew tired of it and scooped him up and one thing was for sure: they got a good laugh, Greasy Sae and Ripper, Bristel and Thom and all of the others when Haymitch pushed inside the Hob to get his usual supply of liquor and he had Scotch peeking out of his breast pocket.

One of those times when Haymitch exited the Hob he met Posy who was out in an errand for her mother and the girl fell in complete awe over Haymitch’s little passenger and after that he could hardly ever got rid of her.

Several times a day you could see Posy running between the Seam and the Victor’s Village so she could watch Haymitch feed Scotch with the little bottle. She helped him care for the cat too, if Haymitch wanted it or not.

She went into town whenever they ran out of something, she dabbed the cat’s chin to catch any drops of milk when he ate, she stood at the ready with towels and Effie’s hairdryer when it was bathing time and one morning she showed up with a tiny kitten blanket she’d sewn all by herself so Scotch wouldn’t get cold at night.

Katniss had been there to hear that last part and she’d said, a little sadly, that it was like Prim with Buttercup.

The older cat wasn’t at all thrilled over the new addition. The first time he ever saw Scotch, bouncing and hopping around on the grass, playing and biting on a paper ball with Posy giggling, pulling on its string he gave Katniss a look like he wanted to ask what the hell that was supposed to be.

It didn’t get better when Scotch the next moment discovered the funny, muddy yellow thing flicking on the grass and jumped on it and Buttercup disappeared through the underbrush and didn’t show his face for the rest of the day.

Haymitch had started to look worn out, having the geese to look after during the day plus Scotch who needed to be fed and changed round the clock.

Effie had offered to help several times but Haymitch was reluctant to let anyone else care for Scotch, except maybe Posy.

One evening when Effie, dressed in her pink dressing gown, wanted to fill her water glass for the night she found Haymitch on the toilet, his pants and underpants by the ankles and he was snoring slumped over the washbasin.

On the worn, old bathroom rug lay Scotch playing with his tail. Effie scooped him up and tried to shake some life into Haymitch. When she couldn’t she took Scotch with her to Haymitch’s room.

The prepared bottle was still warm and Effie made herself comfortable in the armchair with Scotch on her lap.

“You are so precious, aren’t you, little one,” she said. Scotch managed to bump the nipple out his mouth and piped loudly in protest. “And you don’t at all sound like me.”

She helped him to latch on to the bottle again and she caressed him softly while he ate with a strange look in her eyes.

When he was done she took care of him the way she’d seen Haymitch do so many times and the kitten was ready for bed by the time she heard the toilet flush and a very red-eyed Haymitch appeared. He pulled off his clothes as he went and climbed into bed without a word, burying his face in a pillow.

Effie carried Scotch over to him, had a seat on the bed and the kitten immediately lay down on Haymitch’s face. He sputtered, getting his mouth full of fur and moved him an inch. He gave a tremendous yawn.

“Get some sleep, Haymitch,” said Effie. “I can take care of him tonight.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Haymitch mumbled. “Set the alarm, would you?”

She did so and when she was done Haymitch met her gaze and said,

“Hazelle asked if they can adopt him.”

“Oh,” said Effie.

“He’s still too little. But when he’s older… Posy’s a good kid. He’ll get a better home at Hazelle’s. I said he can live there for a while and we’ll see how they get along.”

Effie stroked Scotch’s fur.

“I’m going to miss him,” she said.

The kitten grazed its little paw against Haymitch’s nose and she saw the expression in the old mentor’s eyes.

“The Seam is not far away, Haymtich,” she said. “You will see each other again.”

“Jeez, Eff. It’s just a cat,” Haymitch muttered. “And now I don’t have to worry about my curtains no more, will I.”

Effie said nothing. He wasn’t fooling anyone; least of all her.

Haymitch arranged Scotch in his sleeping basket and when he squeaked, he kept his hand there so the kitten could come to a rest against it. Not two minutes later, they were both out.

Haymitch always looked so peaceful when he slept. You wouldn’t believe his sleep was so often ridden with unspeakable nightmares when looking at him like this.

Was he aware of how much she worried about him? How badly she wished he would one day find peace?

After their goodbye when Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta had all returned to the ashes of their district with Effie unable to tell how they were, how they were coping she’d called them. Not persistently but every once in a while.

There was never an answer and finally she called Dr. Aurelius who was responsible for both Katniss’s and Peeta’s treatment. He couldn’t, wouldn’t break his patient confidentiality but hearing the worry in her voice he told her he was in close contact with Haymitch and that she should give them time.

So that’s what she did. She gave them space, letting them contact her when they were ready. And while she worried, it was still a comforting thought that Katniss and Peeta had Haymitch, that they had each other.

He was shattered and broken but he would care for them to the extent of his ability. Because no matter how he seemed on the surface, his rough ways and rough looks, all of it was betrayed by his eyes, his gentle hand, that whatever he said held love and tenderness and caring.

When she most needed him, he was there. When Katniss and Peeta needed him he was there and when the little abandoned creature who now slept in the basket needed someone he was there too. He took care of everyone.

Everyone but himself.

She smoothed back Haymitch’s hair and before she retreated to her own room leaving them both to rest she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

Chapter Text

"Bye, dear ones."

Effie wrapped her arms around first Katniss and then Peeta, patting their hair like she always did no matter how old they got.

The morning sun reflected itself in the silver train that would take Effie home. The bags were already in her sleeping car but Effie lingered on the platform, not wanting to part just yet. She squeezed Katniss's and Peeta's hands, swallowed and swallowed.

"Take care, Effie," Peeta smiled.

Haymitch said nothing. He stood there, hands in his pockets, squinting from the bright light. His eyes were so red from last night's drinking they looked like they bled. Effie wrapped her arms around him.

"Bye, Haymitch," she whispered. Her eyelashes tickled his skin when she dropped a kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to miss you."

Haymitch patted her awkwardly on the back.

"Better get on that train, sweetheart," he muttered.

Effie released her hold on him. She drew a trembling breath, looking between the three of them.

"Thank you," she said. "For everything. Don't forget that I," she said and her voice caught at the end. "Don't forget I would feel very reassured to know you will drink plenty of water when it is hot outside. And use sunscreen."

There was a blow of a whistle and Effie boarded the train. Katniss and Peeta smiled and waved at her when she blew them some kisses. Seeing Haymitch standing there in his shabby, wrinkled shirt that was missing a button she was almost overcome with affection towards him but then another passenger wanted to board, forcing Effie to step back into the train corridor and she couldn't see them anymore.

Tears stung her eyes and Effie just kept on walking through the narrow hallways, past her sleeping chamber until she entered the warm, sunlit dining car. There was never many getting on or off in District 12 and the restaurant was mercifully empty of people, save herself and the woman behind the counter selling sandwiches and hot and cold beverages.

Effie bought herself a coffee and sat down by the window. Looking out at District 12's grimy little station she almost hoped Haymitch and the children would walk up to her window but of course they must already be on their way back to the Victor's village.

Effie pressed her lips together trying to compose herself, her heart almost breaking with homesickness for the place that she was leaving. She opened the clasps of her handbag and got out her planner, trying to focus on tomorrow's meetings, feeling pathetic for dreading the thought of her empty, silent apartment so much.

She'd always been used to managing everything on her own and when she couldn't she learned to cope with the help of sleeping pills. You didn't share your pain in the Capitol. Just the mentioning of any ugly sides to life sent most people running – even those who considered themselves your close friends and family.

But Haymitch hadn't. Not when she was at her ugliest, her absolute worst.

And when she broke into fits of sobbing, often just after the sun disappeared, leaving her terrified of things she couldn't even put into words Haymitch was never far away.

He didn't dismiss her, didn't mutter at her to pull herself together, that she knew nothing about real pain, that she was weak and pathetic. During these past few months she'd spent with him Haymitch must have hugged her more times than any other person in her life.

Even after things had started to get better, there were still times when she came into his room in the dead of night, face pale, just wanting to escape the shadows and ghosts in her room. And he would lend her a book or she would pull the armchair up to his bed and they'd play chess together, using the stone chessboard she got for his birthday, while Scotch slept soundly in his basket.

They didn't talk much. They didn't need to. And it wasn't one of those uncomfortable silences Effie felt she had to fill with words. Only a silent understanding; a wish to keep the darkness at bay.

Effie took a sip of her coffee and when the train made a slight jerk, rolling out of District 12's station she couldn't keep a tear from running down her cheek, dropping into her cup.

And that was when Haymitch poked her in the ribs, right on her tickle spot.

Effie shrieked and her cup toppled over, sending a sea of coffee all over her planner.

"Haymitch!?" Effie cried staring up at her ex-colleague who looked like he'd just sauntered in by coincidence. "What on Earth are you... My planner!"

She sprung to her feet, getting out her white hankie while Haymitch just sat down across from her, his silver hip flask already in hand.

The woman behind the counter brought paper napkins with Effie begging a thousand times forgiveness. Haymitch who was just having a few good mouthfuls from his hipflask received a look from the woman before she left again without a word.

"I wish you wouldn't flaunter your drinking in her face," Effie said, falling all over herself trying to save her planner. "It's not even legal to drink here. What will she think of us? Oh, just look at my planner!"

"What a scene out there," said Haymitch. "You're going off to war or something? You're coming back in a week."

Effie shot him a glare as she dabbed the napkins against her planner, against the table with agitated, flicking motions.

"Can't live without me, huh?"

"If there's anyone who can't live without the other it's you!"

"Yeah? What's that in your eye?"

"Train dust!"

Haymitch smirked and swallowed another mouthful from his hipflask. Then he reached for Effie's bag.

"I can have this, right?" he said, getting out the wild turkey sandwich Peeta had made for her.

"That's my sandwich," said Effie with a huff of impatience, tossing a ball of coffee stained napkins onto the table.

She sighed.

"You can have half of it."

xXx

Effie's fingertip left a line in the dust on the mahogany table and she looked at it as if it had personally offended her. There was the telltale clinking of glass and she turned, seeing Haymitch by the liquor cabinet.

"Now, Haymitch, remember. Those are not for drinking all at once."

"So for the next bunch of hours I'm gonna do... what?" he asked, having a mouthful from his glass.

"Oh, there are plenty of things you can do," Effie smiled. "You can... relax in the bathtub. You can run the treadmill. You can visit my library. All mahogany," she added as is that decided things.

She was already dressed for work in a chocolate brown suit that made her look annoyingly fine and with a matching, brown head wrap. Haymitch sipped his drink and admired her ass in that tight skirt while she called for the cab that would take her to the Academy.

"So, a couple of rules," she said, when she turned to him again. "No drinking in the bathtub. Nu using the bathtub until two hours from now, at the earliest. Always use a coaster if you put any glasses on the mahogany table. Don't drink in the white arm chair. Don't drink standing on the carpets." Haymitch rolled his eyes. "If you get hungry you can take whatever you like from the kitchen and…"

Only the flash of light through the window when the cab pulled up to the curb would finally shut Effie up and she reached for her bag.

"Please, don't drink too much", she said.

Haymitch leaned against the frame to the front door, thrumming his index finger against his glass. He took a sip and just when Effie opened the car door he could have sworn he saw a pair of eyes staring at him from across the street. But when he looked closer, there were only empty windows.

"Bye, Haymitch. I'll see you soon!" said Effie, the window rolled down on her side. Haymitch emptied his glass and made a motion to go back inside. "And Haymitch…"

"What?"

"I'm very happy that you are here", she said. "I think it's going to be…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, delicious, de-lovely, delectable. Bye, Eff."

"Bye, Haymitch."

The car drove off and the last thing he heard was Effie's voice saying,

"Remember, no drinking in the bathtub!"

Haymitch kicked the front door shut and headed back to the drinking cabinet. He took a bottle, not caring which one and snapped the seal, gulping it down right from the neck. Some of it escaped down his chin, disappearing into the carpet and Haymitch rubbed his hand against his mouth, a little out of breath.

He eyed the remaining bottles in the cabinet. He'd never shared Effie's preference for rainbow drinks but alcohol was alcohol. Maybe he could get away with adopting a few of them for the journey back if he let her take him out to dinner later. It'd been a dry trip here with just his hip flask.

His glass was put aside on the table and it wasn't until he'd got out a second bottle that he remembered Effie saying something about coasters and he quickly removed it again, wiping away the wet ring with his shirtsleeve.

He retreated to the couch with his bottles and for a long moment he just lay there, drinking and relaxing.

He wondered how things were going back home with the geese.

The look on the kids' faces when he stopped the train attendant from closing the door told him he'd given them ideas again. Yeah, well. He'd give them that little moment of amusement then, even though they were wrong. He was just making sure Effie would be OK.

Yeah, right. For some reason the thought spoke exactly in Johanna Mason's voice. She doesn't need you for anything now. You could've spent the rest of the week shitfaced but instead you followed her to the Capitol! Can't be that you actually enjoy spending time with her?

He drank the bottle dry and then he pulled himself up and to the kitchen. There was a note on the fridge and he remembered Effie saying something about Venia helping her watering the plants and getting some fresh groceries in town.

Hope you enjoyed your vacation in District 12, he read. Vacation? Well, that was one way to put it. He poked his head in the fridge and the pantry filling a plate with a little of this, a little of that. Crackers, cheese, chunks of chicken, black olives, purple grapes. Back in the living room he pulled the curtains apart, looking out on the street, wondering about that pair of eyes he'd seen in the window. But a cloud of dust was released when he did so and he backed away quickly to keep his food from getting soiled.

He popped an olive into his mouth, spitting out the seed on his plate in a way that would've made Effie shudder. The sun illuminated the specks of dust in the air and he let his eyes wander.

Maybe it was the booze; that pleasant, half drunk feeling that often filled him before getting flat-out drunk but he felt a genuine desire to have a look around. He never had before, not really. Most of his days here he'd been too busy either quarrelling with her or trying to keep her in one piece.

Plate in hand, every once in a while stuffing himself with something, he looked over the paintings. Buildings mostly. He vaguely remembered seeing some of them here in the Capitol but most of them he didn't recognize at all, with names he couldn't pronounce. He ran a finger against one of the frames revealing the gilded hue underneath.

Attached to one of the mirrors was a greeting card with an over snowed cluster of rowanberries. He detached it carefully and turned it over. A birthday card, signed "Annabel", whoever that was.

Blue and purple potted plants stood on the window sills. They had blooms like small trumpets and on the side table, in a tall glass vase was one perfect peacock feather.

His naked feet brushed soundlessly against the carpets as he walked over to the bookshelf. No books in it except a couple of folios, all of them about architecture. On one shelf was a glass miniature of the Capitolium, surrounded by a whole array of paper animals. No geese but frogs and flamingos, cats and fish, penguins, butterflies.

On the shelf below was a small box with letter papers and envelopes and in another, lying on a bed of velvet, was a pretty fountain pen as blue as Effie's eyes with a lethal looking metal nib. She had a magazine rack next to the empty wastebasket; all fashion magazines and a few numbers of her Capitol newspaper.

Bringing a bottle as only company he went out into the corridor, feeling the doors as he went. Some of them, like the room she used for running, he closed shut immediately. Others like her dining room he poked his head in momentarily, looking around at the furniture covered with white sheets. The library was all mahogany, although it was smaller than he'd expected, with bookshelves covering all walls except one where you could relax in an armchair by the window.

His eyes wandered across the titles and he was just about to get out one of them when he saw something else. A large leather bound thing with two different years elegantly written on the back. He got it out and opened it but even though he'd guessed it right that it was an album, these were no regular photos.

He sat down in the armchair, the album opened in front of him. The photos looked like they were made out of glass. He touched one of them with a light fingertip and the photo lit up like a button.

The library disappeared. He could still make out the ceiling and bits of the floor but he was looking into another room. Effie's living room and it was filled with pink balloons and flamboyantly dressed men and women in every corner, their eager voices reaching him as if they were actually there.

He knew this type of images. It was the same kind you could get projected onto your window at the penthouse. Although this one was more lifelike. As if you'd walked right into a movie.

One of them, a woman in her mid thirties with elegant hair dyed neon yellow sat in the middle of the circle, in the middle of the attention. She was holding a tiny bald baby in a frilly pink gown that everyone was swooning over – the baby and the gown.

"Little Euphemia," one woman cooed. "Look at those long eyelashes. Those pink lips. I'm sure she's going to grow up into a very beautiful woman."

"To think finally, after all these years…"

"What a doll!"

"If only she had more hair. But it will grow I'm sure."

"We hope she'll be in that new bouncy seat commercial", said Effie's mother. "They're holding auditions next week."

Little Effie slept soundly despite the commotion going on around her. So tiny, with pink flowers painted on her cheeks. One of her hands clutched around a piece of the gown. Effie's mother beamed, looking down at her.

The scene changed. Haymitch had but a second to see the library again before another room was shown. He didn't recognize it at first but then he realized it was the guestroom Effie always lent him.

Now it was a nursery. The pinkest nursery he'd ever seen. In the middle of the room, sitting around a children's table were two kids, about four or five years old. They were coloring under complete silence. One of them a boy with orange hair. The other kid could be no one other than Effie, dolled up in a pink dress with a purple belt forming a bow at the back.

He'd never seen a calmer, more straight-backed five year old. Maybe it was different when the camera was off but still. Didn't seem natural.

She put her pencil down now, looking straight at him.

"You finished?" said a voice, the man who held the camera.

"Yes, daddy."

"Can I see?"

She got up from the chair with her drawing between her hands and even though she walked perfectly like a lady you could still feel her eagerness like electricity in the air. Haymitch came face to face with little Effie Trinket who smiled at her father and even though she couldn't see him of course Haymitch couldn't help but return her smile. He'd never seen a cuter kid in his life. Her reddish blonde hair was pulled back and formed some kind of odd hair bow on top of her head. To match the bow at her back, he guessed but her hair wouldn't conform and tests and curls of it stuck out here and there.

She extended the drawing to her father and Haymitch got a glimpse of something that looked like a rainbow.

"Oh," said Effie's father, and there was disappointment in his voice. "That's good, Effie but you need to do better. And not just a rainbow. You want them to publish it in the magazine, don't you pumpkin?"

"Yes, daddy," she said. Her father gave her the drawing and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. Effie sat down at the table again, reaching for a pencil.

When the scene changed the next time Effie was older but only slightly. She sat on the edge of her bed while her mother put the finishing touches to her hair that was pulled back in a bun this time. Effie sat completely still with her hands folded on her lap, dressed in pink tweed with shiny, black boots that didn't touch the floor.

"This will have to do, I guess," Effie's mother sighed with a look at her hair. She squeezed Effie's hand and smiled at her. "Are you excited, Effie?"

Effie nodded.

"You be a good girl today. You want to make mommy and daddy proud, don't you?"

Effie nodded.

"Look into the camera and tell daddy what you will become today."

"School girl," said Effie and her mother chuckled, kissed her temple and dabbed a handkerchief where her lips had touched her skin.

"Let's get your coat. You don't want to be late for your first day."

The scene changed again and Haymitch's bottle stood completely forgotten on the table.

xXx

The tub Effie had spoken about was sunk into the bathroom floor. It was dry and empty now but at the press of a few buttons, water, bubble bath and oil filled it to the edge with fragrant bubbly water. Haymitch stripped, leaving clothes all over as he went and when he lowered himself into the hot, silky water he couldn't stop a sigh and leaned back with only his head poking up above the bubbles.

Glimpses and images of what he'd just seen kept re-playing in his mind. It was astonishing really, how little he knew about Effie's past. He hadn't wanted to know anything about her in the beginning of course. But even after she'd become more of an ally and even a friend she had almost never confided in him about her past. She would give him "fun facts", like when she told him about her parents' first date at the Capitolium. But almost never any of the deep stuff, anything that could help him figure her out.

After what he'd just seen and in the wake of everything that had happened lately he wondered more than ever. He thought back to the skinny chit of a girl Effie had been when he first met her and had actually been grateful over (the first ten minutes or so) because how could she be any worse than Dandridge?

What had Effie's life been like up to that point?

Was she happy? Had she been loved?

Her parents had paraded her around like a damn show dog. Prepping her for beauty contests and ice skating contests, TV commercial auditions, fashion shows and other equally stupid things but they still looked like they loved her. Something in the way they interacted with her. It might be just the thought of the future glory she would bring them that they loved but he wasn't sure on that one. Effie's parents weren't quite how he'd imagined them.

There'd been a time and for many years when he would have scoffed and said Capitolians can't love. Not for real. But even if it was damn hard to admit, he knew deep down that it wasn't true. Even if they were foolish scarecrows they were still human beings under all that crap and they must care for their own. The parents' reaction watching their children being blown to bits outside the President's mansion was proof of that if anything.

To say they can't really love, not like you and I love must be as arrogant as the Capitolians saying the district people aren't really people like you and me.

Effie's parents had looked at their daughter with eyes shining with love. And still she was a disappointment to them? Something told him there was a clue for him right there.

A low, bad-tasting belch escaped Haymitch's lips and he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

And then there was that boy with the orange hair. He'd seen him in frame after frame, always by Effie's side.

Was that him? Alexander. He'd never stopped wondering about him. Back when he first moved in with Effie after her overdose he noticed she'd moved the box with the embroidery with Alexander's name on it.

Was he a cousin? Maybe he was her brother.

After one of their wakeful nights in Twelve when they sat on his porch, he'd flat-out asked her.

But she wouldn't speak of it. And then Peeta appeared and Effie took her chance, following him into town. She'd thrown a look at Haymitch over her shoulder, guilt written all over her face, but she didn't stop.

On the hospital back when Effie was rescued from prison and Plutarch came to visit she'd asked him about her family. Haymitch remembered holding her hand. He also remembered that neither of the relatives she'd asked after had had such a common name as Alexander.

It would probably be an easy task to go search her apartment and once and for all find out. He was good at leaving everything exactly where he found it when he had to.

But it just felt too rotten to do that. He would have hated her if she did it to him. She might get pissy at him for just watching those photos. That thought hadn't even crossed his mind until now and he made a mental note to himself to not hurry and tell her.

Haymitch sipped his bottle and looked at his toes peeking through the bubbles, his mind getting hazy even from Effie's lame alcohol.

The last thing he thought about before he drifted off to sleep was little Effie Trinket and her eyes following her parents around the room.

xXx

"That was the very last time I find you asleep in the bathtub, Haymitch."

The artificial air brushed balmy against their faces but Effie's lips were pursed in displeasure, her arm looped around Haymitch's. "And Panem knows I've seen enough of your private parts to last me a lifetime."

"Oh, give it a rest", said Haymitch. "Like you didn't always take that extra look when you stripped me down during the Games."

"Don't be preposterous, Haymitch. Of course I didn't," said Effie but her cheeks flushed pink.

They were walking across the Promenade with the blue water of the barrage glittering on one side. An invisible forcefield separated you from the edge except for the archway overgrown with green leaves and lemons where you could board the public riverboat that slowly and steadily took its passengers to different parts of the city.

"It stops by the National Library of Panem," Effie told him because she could never miss an opportunity to act tour guide. "It's opened to the public now, maybe you heard."

Haymitch muttered something in affirmative. He was silently grateful that he had Effie there to support him. He didn't feel too steady. More than anything he'd like to lie down.

His eyes fell on a stone bench a couple of meters ahead and he immediately pulled Effie towards it, sitting down with a grunt and leaned his arms against his thighs. Effie sat down as well, so straight you could balance a wine glass on her head. He expected a lecture about posture but it wasn't coming.

Effie looked out at the barrage. The sun turned the water to diamonds.

"Look," she said and Haymitch glanced to where she nodded. Far up there a bright purple hot air balloon floated through the heavens. "You see them all through summer here", said Effie. "People climb aboard in Cupid's Garden and it takes you around the city."

"Talk about not having better things to do."

Effie smiled.

"I know it's silly. It's just that I always wanted to try it when I was a child. But my parents didn't think it was safe."

"Figures," muttered Haymitch.

"I have something for you," Effie said. "I know it's a little early but I thought..."

And from the depths of her bag she got out a small round box, all wrapped up.

"You know you don't have to keep getting me gifts," said Haymitch.

"Of course I know I don't have to," said Effie. "I want to. Happy birthday, Haymitch."

He unwrapped it and got out a round box. Inside was a small glass cube. He held it on his palm and first he thought it was some kind of ornament, like the glass miniature in Effie's bookshelf. But then Effie brushed her fingertip on top of the cube and immediately an image lit up from it.

"I wanted to give you something special and not just things like a chessboard", said Effie. "So I thought I'd give you a memory of... well, a family." She said so almost apologetically. As if afraid he'd take offence for her taking that word in her mouth.

Unlike the life size moving pictures he'd seen in Effie's library, this one was more like an actual photo. Of him sitting by the garden furniture next to Katniss and Peeta, with the geese pen at their backs.

"I hope that was alright," she said.

"Why aren't you on it?"

"I took the picture, remember," said Effie. "I really like this photo of you."

"You should've been on it." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them but once they were he knew they were true. He hadn't averted his gaze from the photo all this time but he looked at her now.

Effie Trinket had many smiles and having known her all these years Haymitch thought it was safe to say he knew all of them. There was her wide Capitol smile that had fooled even him in the beginning. Her dazzling smile she put on when she needed to charm someone. Her teasing and/or malicious smile which always seemed to end up with her out-bitching him. Her sad smile that was positively heart wrenching. Her bright, cute and genuine smile that made you think Effs Trinket might actually be alright.

But then there was this one. The one on her lips right now that he wasn't at all sure he liked and absolutely not used to get. A smile so full of warmth and love he swore she could melt snow with it and he always looked away then or else he'd start noticing how pretty Effie's eyes were and that was never good for him.

For a long moment neither of them spoke.

"No one's ever done what you did for me that night and after," Effie said quietly. "I never thought…"

"You have people who care about you, Eff," Haymitch said. "That never changed. If you spiral out of control again don't drug yourself out. Just call me, OK?"

"I will. I promise." She hesitated and her gaze fluttered to his pocket where he kept the silver hipflask. "You know the same goes for you, don't you? Instead of… If you need me I would…"

"Wish it were that simple, Eff."

"But you know you have people who care about you as well?"

His gaze dropped to Katniss and Peeta, smiling up at him from the photo.

"Yeah. Sure. Can't say I know why."

"Oh, Haymitch." She gave a small sigh. "And you were known for being clever."

Chapter Text

Haymitch's eyes were bleary and red when he crossed the threshold to the kids' house. He peeked his head in the living room long enough to see Annie asleep on the couch with her boy curled up close, before he headed for the kitchen.

"Morning, handsome." Seven's victor sat perched up against the kitchen sofa, a piece of straw between her lips. The oven was on and Katniss stood by the sink putting layers of fish slices and cheese into a greased baking dish.

"Need any help?" Haymitch asked. His voice was still slurred from just waking up.

"Nothing to do yet really," Katniss said. "Johanna already set the table. You can help Effie."

"Your Capitol babe went down to pick apples," Johanna said.

Haymitch's brow crinkled.

"Not my babe," he answered. "Why's she picking apples?"

"Pie. So you have until dinner if you wanna scrump her."

Haymitch gave her a scowl that Johanna returned with a wink and a wiggle of the straw between her teeth.

"Thanks," he said, poured himself a glass of water than he gulped down before leaving without another word.

Apples. When it came to trying something new Effie sprung to action, eagerly as a child. Had she offered to do the baking as well? Would have to be over at the kids' house then. He'd only just aired out the smoke from her last cooking attempt.

Haymitch sighed.

What he wouldn't do for a trip to the Hob! To have a proper drink in peace and refill his stashes, with both Effie and the kid conveniently out of the way.

But still, he felt he ought to give Effie a hand. She'd been taking care of their guests and she didn't kick up a fuss when he fell asleep after lunch.

Besides, with his luck he bet the kid would show up just when he came back with his clinking bag and even though he wasn't one to ever apologize for his drinking he didn't feel good about waving his bottles right before the boy's eyes.

He was a strange little specimen, Finn, staring at him and following him around, especially when Haymitch checked on the geese and thought he would get a few moments alone with the bottles hidden in the shelter.

It was spooky how much he resembled his father. Same bronze-colored hair. Same sea-green eyes. Annie sent them a photo after his birth and there'd been a resemblance even then of course but when he saw the kid step out onto the platform with his mother and Johanna and Effie he'd actually started. Because it was like looking at a younger version of Finnick.

Of course, he couldn't be one hundred percent sure about the eyes. Annie's were sea-green too. She looked much healthier than last time he saw her even if she had a tendency to drop out of the conversation sometimes. But not when it came to Finn and Haymitch also noticed that whenever it happened Johanna was the one bringing her back, by throwing her a comment or a question or sometimes just with a squeeze of her shoulder. Johanna had been one of the first to learn about the baby and she'd come with Annie when she returned to Four. Not because she had to or wanted to (she hadn't) but for feeling a responsibility because of Finnick.

The three of them now lived in the Victor's Village. All Four's victors save Annie were gone but their surviving family members – their lives had always been closely bonded, like they were really one family, and even more so in their common loss after the war. Annie and Finn with the occasional comment from Johanna told them about their home and you could easily see it before your mind's eye. The children cross-legged on the ground playing clap games. The gentle breeze that brushed through the laundry hung up to dry. The grown-ups drinking coffee on their front step. Four's houses weren't wooden like in Twelve but square shaped, whitewashed stone with patches of vegetables and herb gardens under the windows, separated by rows of seashells. And wherever you went in the district you were never far from the ocean.

Haymitch put his hands in his pockets as he trudged on, leaving his own Victor's Village behind.

Had Effie and the others been down to the market yet? They'd meant to go yesterday and visit Peeta's stall but the dark rain clouds had moved the rest of them indoors while only Haymitch went down to the square to see if the boy needed any help. Peeta and several other merchants always put up street stalls this time of year and would continue to do so every weekend until the Harvest Festival in November.

For some reason Johanna's earlier comment resounded in his head. About scrumping Effie instead of the apples.

Witty, he thought tiredly.

Back during the Games Johanna, Chaff and Finnick never tired of teasing him about Effie. It took Haymitch years to make Chaff even believe there'd actually never been any "friends with penthouse benefits" going on between him and his pink-haired escort. And once he had convinced him, Chaff just thought he was a moron for not taking the chance. "What a waste," he'd said. "At least your's hot."

Good thing Katniss and Peeta weren't gossipy and that Johanna didn't care enough to ask someone, like Sae; even though the girl sometimes spoke like she knew about a certain New Year's event.

Nothing had ever happened since the Hob and he didn't plan on repeating it. They'd slept in the same bed but even though there'd been mornings when he woke with a hard-on because there was a woman next to him and he wasn't dead he just shifted his body to hide it from Effie or, if it was really bad, took care of it in the shower. He kept his fingers crossed that Effie didn't know anything about it.

Something had shifted in their relationship these past months, sure. In the Capitol he'd practically told her she was family. But he'd only meant like how Johanna had come to be a part of Annie's and Finn's family. Obviously.

Uninvited, the memory of Effie wrapped around him in that small restroom filled his mind and Haymitch irritably pushed the thought away.

"Mistake," he muttered to a spider crawling up a web just as he reached the Meadow and the surrounding woods.

No one remembered when the handful of apple trees were first seeded or if they just grew up on their own but Sae said they'd borne fruit back when she was a girl too.

Scrumping apples back when he was a kid was risky no matter when you did it but really early mornings were still a safer card than evenings and nights when the district swam over with peacekeepers making sure no one was out after the final toll of the bell announcing the curfew.

As long as he lived he'd never forget the morning woods, thick with fog and completely silent except for the buzz from the fence. To his dying day he would remember how the moist air felt against his lips when he hurried his steps, his shoes getting wet with dew and how the rain dropped from the leaves and into his hair when he picked the apples in a sack made out of an old shirt and sprinted back across the Meadow and the Seam on the other side.

Haymitch trudged through the woods, his mind elsewhere. He passed the large oak tree and that was when he saw her.

Afterwards he would think it had taken him several moments to realize it even was Effie. He stopped, right in a large fern and stared at the woman under the apple trees.

Effie hadn't spotted him yet. She was humming the new national anthem of Panem to herself, wonderfully off-key. Her hand closed around a fruit that she examined closely before she picked it and put it in a straw basket at her feet. She gave a small exhale and took a moment to tuck her reddish blonde hair behind her ears.

What on Earth had made her skip the head wrap? Finn? Sae? Or was it all her own making? Certainly wasn't his.

But it was the dress, that gray dress, that more than anything else made the hairs on Haymitch's arms stand right up. And not just his hairs…

A smile lit up Effie's face when she finally saw him and she propped the apple basket on her hip as she went over to him.

"I'm glad you came."

Haymitch's mouth was so dry he could hardly swallow, let alone answer. He stared at her dress. It was light gray, covered her chest all the way up to her collarbones and just brushed her kneecaps.

Effie's hand went to her hair, almost shyly, thinking it was the reason he stared.

"Something new I'm trying," she said. "Mrs. Sae almost didn't recognize me. I still don't know quite how to feel about having it loose, it's been years. But I thought I'd give it a try."

She smiled at him and he only just managed to hold back a moan.

"It's good you are here because I'm not one hundred percent sure how many apples we need. We're surprising Finn and Annie with an apple pie."

The basket was left closer between them and Effie resumed her picking, talking about their visit to the market earlier. Haymitch tried to follow her example but when he grabbed his first apple he broke almost the whole branch down. And then he missed with several meters when he tried to throw the fruit into the basket. He could hardly even bend over to pick it up in his condition.

What the hell's wrong with me? She's not even sexy. It's just a plain gray dress.

Too late he realized she saw him gaping at her again for she smiled and waved her hand with a glint in her eyes. Sweat tricked down his back and he clenched his jaw, wishing himself miles away.

"You're so flustered today," Effie chuckled, watching his red cheeks. She picked an apple from her tree and walked over to him, the sun and the shadows playing over her hair, her face, her dress.

Sweet, dear God…

"Getting too old to pick apples, Haymitch?" Effie smiled and held up the fruit.

She looks like she's lived in Twelve all her life.

"Want a taste?"

A choked sound came over Haymitch's lips and he closed the space between them.

For a fraction of a second when he heard her intake of breath, he thought he'd be rewarded for his boldness with a big fat slap. Then there was only the soft thud when the apple hit the grass and they were in each other's arms.

And it was the Hob all over again. All that wise thinking for months and months and just five minutes ago, crumbled into dust under their kisses. He pressed her to him, touching her, kissing her, tasting her and she returned it with as much heat, more intoxicating than any bottle.

“Haymitch,” she gasped when they sank down onto the ground, Effie first and Haymitch after. With deft flicks of his thumb and forefinger he undid the top buttons of her dress and kissed her breasts as they were exposed.

His lips and tongue were warm against her skin and Effie threw her head back, her breasts pressing up to his face. One of her hands went down fumbling with his belt buckle but he was already on that and she wound her arms around his neck and lifted her hips up, allowing him to pull her panties down.

Their lips met again, sloppily in their eagerness and the skirt of her dress barely concealed the fact that she was naked and wet and open.

But even then there was something on her mind, battling to get the message through.

“Haymitch,” she panted and they were so close together she felt the tip of him graze by her entrance. “Haymitch, I'm not on anything,” she all but cried out, voice pained from holding back.

“I'll pull out,” Haymitch answered breathlessly. “I swear, I’ll pull out.”

Effie groaned, eyes heavy-lidded. Hands against his shoulders. She brought him down for another kiss. Their touch heated. Desperate. Full of need.

“But you have to be really careful, OK”, she sighed, breath hot against his lips. “We can’t have an accident. I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“Yeah, yeah”, Haymitch panted. With his hand for aid, he slid himself into her in one fluid motion. “I mean, no. Course not.”

The wet grass had soaked through the back of Effie's dress and she didn't care. Someone could come through the woods and see them and she didn't care about that either. Her ballet flats slid off her feet, first one and then the other. Her hands clutched around fistfuls of his shirt and she moved her hips upwards when he got down, taking him deeper inside her each time.

"Gotta be quiet, Eff," Haymitch mumbled and clenched his jaw to not lose control over himself.

"Ohh!" Effie groaned and he silenced her with his lips before she'd announce to everyone what they were doing; before her voice that used to annoy the crap out of him would make him come inside her and end this in a disaster.

We shouldn't do this. We really shouldn't. Not here. Not at all.

But she was too near, too real, too unbelievably soft through that odd, plain dress. Effie's hand came up next to her head and their fingers entwined with such certainty as he kept moving in and out of her.

The tree tops swayed high above their heads but she was higher. The wind brushed through his hair and tickled her when he kissed her throat just where her pulse was and Effie cried out in her pleasure, high and sharp like a bird. A pained sound came over Haymitch's lips and he had just enough sense left to pull out of Effie before he spilled himself all over her inner thigh.

And just like that, it was over.

They lay there on the ground, a tangle of arms and legs in the shadow of the apple trees, hot and sticky and breathless. He only realized he was crushing her with his weight when he felt her squirm and he pulled himself up, steadying himself on one hand. The other still held hers and he looked down at Effie, her lips red and swollen from his desire and her eyes – so blue you could drown in them. He released his grip on her hand.

Fuck.

Effie sat up when he did. His gaze was drawn to her thigh and the mess he'd caused there. He felt he should offer her something, like a tissue but she'd already gotten out her hankie and dried his stickiness from herself. His cheeks burned so hot she must see it.

Fuck.

"We've got more than enough apples now," he mumbled. Effie's gaze went to the basket and when it returned to him Haymitch was tucking himself back in his pants. "I'll take care of this," he said. "Getting the fruits back and all. I'll join up with you in a while, OK."

His voice wasn't unfriendly, just desperately needing her to be someplace else other than here and Effie, she was suddenly almost overcome with shyness in front of this man she'd known most of her adult life. She got to her feet and awkwardly pulled up her underwear.

"Are you sure?" she said uncertainly. "I can…"

"I'll see you in a while," Haymitch said. He was still on the ground. His gray eyes met her blue ones, if only briefly. "Really Effie, I will."

xXx

Johanna chewed on her grass straw and thrummed her fingers against the kitchen sofa. By coincidence she looked out the open window just when the escort returned from the woods. Empty-handed and with a haste to her steps like she was late for a meeting.

"Hey, Capitol," she said before she could disappear.

Effie heard the greeting, although she wished she hadn't. Reluctantly she let go of Haymitch's door handle and walked up to Johanna's window.

"Yes?"

Johanna's eyebrows raised as she took in the capitolian's appearance. Her flushed face, the crumpled hankie peeking out a dress pocket and her hair which fell not at all as elegantly as it used to.

"It's hot outside," said Effie almost defensively, even though the girl hadn't said a word. Her blush crept up her throat and face and she made a gesture towards Haymitch's house. "I'm just going to take a quick shower and then I will join you all for dinner."

And she turned around quickly before Johanna could start asking questions.

Effie slipped out of her wet, wrinkled clothes the moment she closed the bathroom door, avoiding her own naked reflection in the cracked mirror.

Johanna. She'd forgotten all about her. If she hadn't, maybe she'd lied better. The girl had not been fooled.

Please, please let her keep it to herself.

A gasp came over Effie's lips when the hot spray ran over her body. Her nipples were sore and tender from when they'd grazed the inside of her dress. She washed the stains of their pleasure from herself and the cleaner she became, the worse the pain in her stomach got.

She'd slept with him. She slept with Haymitch, out in broad daylight for everyone to see!
How had it even happened? One moment they were picking apples and the next they were on the ground.

What if they hadn't been alone in those woods? She didn't see anyone when she picked apples but what kind of a guarantee was that? All it took was one pair of eyes and it would spread like wildfire.

Tears of shame wanted to break through at the thought. As if the Hob hadn't been bad enough!

Steam filled the room but she could still see her dress through the gash in Haymitch's laundry basket. A dress she knew she'd never wear again.

What did Haymitch think about all this? He'd sent her away so quickly afterwards and yet he had reassured her. She didn't know what kind of madness had made him kiss her; had made her kiss him back. Only how good it felt. So impossibly good and right, in that moment.

She could still feel him. That good ache between her legs. She remembered the way his hand entwined with hers, how she'd clutched on to it when she came.

She hadn't slept with anyone since before the rebellion. After her time in prison it took her years to even feel at home in her own body again.

Effie filled her palms with cool water and let it run down her face, keeping her hands against her hot cheeks but despite her embarrassment and even though she'd never planned for this to happen she knew – after all these years it could never have been with anyone but Haymitch.

xXx

Effie would gladly have stayed in the shower for as long as they had hot water for but she knew she had to face Haymitch sooner or later.

She heard Katniss, Finn and Annie in the other room when she entered the house. Peeta had joined Johanna in the kitchen but there was nothing strange about his smile when he saw her.

The fish gratin simmered in the oven, the kitchen heavy with its scent and Effie busied herself filling a pitcher of water, waiting for Johanna's comment but there was none forthcoming. She should feel grateful for it but the silence was almost worse than if she'd teased her.

Her hand kept going to her hair, feeling more self-conscious than ever – just when the soft, musical notes of a piano filled the house.

"Oh, not again," Johanna groaned and her head slumped back against the wall but Effie couldn't keep a smile from her lips, despite everything, when Finn began singing in his sweet, clear voice.

Annie's son liked to go on his own expeditions and yesterday during the rain he found his way into the study and discovered the piano.

All the houses in the Victor's Village had one along with things like flutes, cookbooks, painting equipment. All for the sake of their future victors' talents. Katniss gave them full access to it and while they waited for Haymitch and Peeta to return Annie tuned it and Finn sang them songs he'd learned in his choir which used to sing at weddings and during the Sea Festival back home.

"All they ever do in Four is sing," Johanna had complained. After the show she bribed Finn into a music free evening with snacks from her bag. But not before Finn had wheedled Katniss into teaching him a song.

Now he sang it again, with almost no mistakes while his mother played. Katniss called it a "mountain air" and it was beautiful in its simplicity. While Effie had never heard it until yesterday the girl said every child in District 12 knew that song.

For a moment Effie stood there completely still, just listening. It was the kind of song that made you want to hold the people you cared about and she could have listened to it forever but the music faded all too soon and then Peeta was there talking about apples and pies. And it brought her right back to where she was, her stomach tied into a knot.

"Haymitch promised to bring the apples," she said. "He should be here at any moment."

Johanna who had pushed herself off of the couch after the boy's performance returned with a giggling Finn thrown over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and Katniss and Annie also joined.

Effie re-arranged the bouquet on the kitchen table; the "autumn flowers" as Finn called them. He'd picked them himself with Effie's help. Large bouquets of grass straws, pretty leaves and late summer blooms, enough to decorate both houses.

Together they cut salad and bread, got out salt and butter, Finn helped putting napkins on all their plates and every time there was a sound from outside Effie's heart leaped in her throat.

Where is he? What is he doing?

She suspected she knew the answer but refused for it to be true. He wouldn't do that.

"Where's mister Heymit?" Finn asked.

"I'll go look for him," said Effie quietly to Peeta who stood closest and with a caress of Finn's head she went to get her coat.

xXx

Haymitch hadn't visited the Hob once in the days that Annie, Finn and Johanna had been in District 12. He'd even cared enough to be discreet with his drinking for Finn's sake. And she'd been so proud of him for it. But now when she pushed inside the Hob, despite everything she'd told herself, she knew, had known all along, that it was here she would find him in the end.

As she made way towards Haymitch at the bar she recognized Thom and Bristel and a handful of other Seam people around the tables but if they knew about any inappropriate actions they were hiding it well.

"Good afternoon," Effie nodded towards Greasy Sae and Ripper when she joined up at Haymitch's side. The ice in his whiskey clinked when he raised the glass to his lips and she could see that he was drunk. He never looked up when she walked in, didn't acknowledge her in any way.

"Don't you want dinner?" Effie asked quietly.

She couldn't see his eyes properly. They were hidden by the tangles of unwashed hair that dangled over his temples.

"Katniss went all the way to the lake to get the fish. It smells wonderful."

Haymitch took another sip of his drink and didn't answer. Effie looked around, very aware of all listening ears.

"Can we talk somewhere?" she asked. "Someplace private?"

Silence.

"Why did you leave the apples on the front step?" she asked. "The basket had fallen over and all the fruits were on the ground."

Haymitch put his glass down but when he opened his mouth only one word came out. She'd heard him utter that word many times before, at the Games Headquarters, the banquets, the Penthouse to make her leave him alone with his drinks. But hearing him say it now, in a cold voice that didn't even sound like his, it hit her squarely in the heart, worse than his knife ever could.

"Go."

She didn't want to believe it at first but in the silence that followed he only repeated his word.

"Haymitch…" she said and his eyes met hers for the first time. His face was filled with hard edges in the light from the dripping wax candles when he looked at her and down her pink dress.

"I see the Capitol's back on."

And then he only had eyes for his whiskey. Effie watched him swallow the amber liquid. She didn't as much as blink. She only gave a slight nod, like his statement was all she needed to know.

"What was that, Haymitch?" she heard Mrs. Sae ask when she turned to leave.

"None of your business," Haymitch muttered back and the door closed between them.

xXx

"It's alright, Effie. You don't have to stay. I've got him."

Myriads of stars twinkled above them and Haymitch's head bounced heavily on his neck, propped up as he was between Effie and Peeta. Clouds of dust disrupted around his feet when he stumbled ahead and only sometimes did he seem to realize where he was. Then he resisted and they had to drag him along while Haymitch mumbled, "I'm not fucking going home."

Peeta's forehead was covered in sweat as he carried his mentor. During the Games, when Haymitch was drunk and vulnerable and needed someone to take the reins, even when Chaff or Finnick were at hand, it was always Effie he wanted. But now the old mentor leaned almost all of his weight on Peeta. Effie tried to help the boy and put Haymitch's arm back around her shoulders but Haymitch grunted and pulled away.

"I'm not fucking going home."

"I'm so so sorry, Peeta."

"It's OK," said Peeta with a faint smile, slightly out of breath. "I'm used to it."

"Sick," Haymitch got out and they had just enough time to maneuver him across the road before he vomited violently into the ditch.

Somehow they managed to get him inside and up the stairs and Haymitch collapsed stomach-first on the bed. With his face in a pillow he mumbled something unintelligible while Effie untied his boots. Together they rolled him onto his back and Peeta went to get a bucket.

"I shouldn't," Haymitch mumbled and caught Effie's hands in an iron grip when she tried to unbutton his shirt. "Shouldn't, Eff… We should've known... I should've known..."

"I believe you, Haymitch," Effie said and gently prised off his fingers so she could undo the rest of the buttons, getting him out of his shirt and trousers.

"Get some sleep, Peeta dear," she said when the boy appeared with the bucket. "I'll look after him."

Haymitch groaned and when Effie looked at him he lay in the fetal position on the bed, clutching his stomach.

"Do you need to vomit again?"

Haymitch pressed one hand over his ear and rolled over, away from her. Effie took the bucket from Peeta, telling him to go and get some rest.

Finally he did.

Haymitch moaned and whimpered, arms clutched around himself. Effie sat by his side, holding the bucket. She wanted to smooth back his hair that clung to him with sweat but thought better of it.

It was going to be a long night.

xXx

Like every morning little Finn woke before everyone else. If you didn't count Auntie Jo but Auntie Jo didn't count since she was never asleep.

He climbed out of bed and his mother only mumbled something before she rolled over on the other side.

He listened for the sound that had woken him. It was not Auntie Jo going about in the next room but something else. He got out into the corridor, dressed in his blue and white striped pajamas and just then he heard it, a low whiny sound down the stairs.

It was Buttercup. Unaware of her terrible crime, Johanna had gone and closed his window and now the cat paced back and forth across the door mat, scratching his claws against the wood with affronted meows. He pierced Finn with a yellow stare when the boy came down the stairs.

"Hi, kitty cat." Finn patted his head and Buttercup let him, for as long as it took the child to open the door. Then he was off and away like a fluffy, orange duster.

Everyone in the Victor's Village knew Finn was an early riser and the front door was supposed to be locked. But after everything with Haymitch Peeta must have forgotten it and now Finn stepped out into the cool morning air. He went to the goose pen first only to discover in disappointment that he couldn't move the wooden door latch. But in the big house lived mister Heymit and Ms Effie and with some difficulty he pushed the door opened and stepped inside.

Here he'd never been before. Finn looked curiously around as he walked through the house. He brushed his fingers against the yellowish wall paper that was so loose in some places you could rip it off and use it as drawing-paper. When he got inside the living room his foot accidently nudged a bottle and Finn watched it roll.

Until it bumped up against a large naked foot.

Upstairs in Haymitch's room all the windows were opened wide in an attempt to air out the smell of vomit. Curled up on the couch under a knotty old blanket, lay Effie. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was ruffled. She hadn't gotten many hours of sleep so when Haymitch woke up and found his way downstairs she never heard it. She never heard Finn open the front door either or even his words a moment later.

But she did hear the wailing. She was so startled awake when the cries cut through silence she bumped into Haymitch's bookshelf when she sprung up from the couch. The boy's cries grew louder and Effie stumbled down the stairs and through the rooms.

"Finn?"

"Mama!"

And she found Haymitch. Sprawled out on the living room floor, naked except for a pair of wet underpants and lying with his cheek in a sticky pool of vomit. Finn wailed and he shook Haymitch's hairy leg, trying to rouse him. The sound of the boy's cries made Haymitch stir, trying to reach him but Effie was there in a moment and picked Finn up.

"It's Ok, it's OK," she said and carried him away from the scene.

"What's going on?" a voice rung out and Effie saw Johanna with Annie in the doorway.

"Mama!" Finn sobbed and reached out his arms to her. "Heymit's sick."

"Helpme," Haymitch's voice came back to them. "Please, helpme."

"Should we get someone?" asked Annie worriedly, with Finn clinging to her.

"No, no, it's fine, he'll be fine," said Effie. "Please, just take Finn with you. Everything will be fine."

She hurried back into the living room where Haymitch tried to get up, vomit dripping down half his face. Effie got to him just in time to catch him before he fell. Pain shot up her back but she kept him upright. He reeked with alcohol and vomit and urine and she put his arm around her shoulders getting smeared down with vomit when she half-lead, half-carried him to the bathroom and into the tub.

xXx

The sun sat low on the sky, hot and golden, when Haymitch finally came to. Automatically his hand clawed around under the bed to get out the bottle of clear liquid he kept there and he had taken several gulps before he was even fully awake. With a groan Haymitch got himself up to sitting. He rubbed his hand over his chest, just wondering why he wore pajamas when he saw he wasn't alone in the room.

"Shouldn't you be out with Finn and the others?" he muttered.

Effie looked back at him from the couch, pale and unsmiling.

"I could ask you the same question," she said and by the look on her face she wasn't going be a hand holder today. "They're your guests."

"No, it was all your idea."

He tipped his bottle upwards and grunted in disappointment when he swallowed the last drops.

"Your behavior these past few days has been completely unacceptable," said Effie. "I thought I'd tell you in case you don't remember."

"Course you do. You never waste a moment to tell me what a fuck up I am. Why're you still here? Shouldn't you be on a train? By all means, don't let me stop ya."

"You're a grown man, Haymitch!" Effie snapped and got to her feet. "If this appalling behavior is because of what happened I'd rather you…"

Haymitch laughed.

"Yeah, everything's about you, princess. And you don't start that again! Not after I took you in! You should be fucking grateful. Not everyone would have."

"I am grateful," said Effie and in a softer tone now. "You know I am. I just don't understand..."

"What else is new?" muttered Haymitch. "You got cotton candy inside your head and not just on top of it?"

"What's the matter with you?" Effie burst out and the pain filled her eyes with tears. "Finn found you on the floor this morning! He was in here sobbing and tried to rouse you. How could you do that to him?"

The revelation struck him hard and it made his voice sharper than razor blades.

"He had no business going here in the first place. Maybe Annie should take better care of her own kid."

"He's a child, Haymitch! Sometimes children go where they aren't supposed to go. The least you can do is follow me back and apologize. You owe them that."

Something flashed in Haymitch's eyes and his face turned crimson.

"You don't go telling me which people I owe! Get the hell out of my house!"

"Not until you talk to me!" Effie cried but his hand had already clutched around her arm and he was pushing her before him and to the door.

"Out!"

"Let go of me!" Effie shouted and he pushed her off of him. A vase smashed against the floor, sending the "autumn flowers" flying when Effie tried to break her fall and she hit the back of her head hard against the wall.

Haymitch stared in horror at what he'd just done. His hand reached out to her if only an inch but then he just backed away. Away from Effie. Away from it all.

xXx

Johanna's rucksack with the minimal amount of things she'd brought with her lay thrown by her feet on the couch and upstairs Annie and Finn were packing. You could hear their voices through the ceiling, talking with Katniss and Peeta.

Effie sat in the armchair. Her fingers ran absentmindedly over the back of her head. The impact with the wall had made it sound worse than it was and it didn't hurt anymore.

Not her head, anyway.

Haymitch's house was dark and silent. No one had seen him for hours, not since their fight and Effie hated herself for expecting more of him. Hated herself for thinking their encounter had meant something.

She stared blankly at the empty basket by the fireplace. She could hardly believe the man who kissed her under the apple trees was the same one she met at the Hob. That those gray eyes which managed to calm her down when nothing else did could look at her like he truly hated her.

It should have happened during the Games instead, she thought. At least then she'd have known what it was and why it was. She would have moved on.

Her bags still weren't packed. If she stayed here much longer she would end up late for work. But while she couldn't bear the thought of seeing him again she couldn't bear the thought of leaving like this either.

She was stuck.

"You should go home, Trinket."

It took a moment for her to realize it was Johanna who had spoken. She thought the girl had been asleep but she looked straight at her, as if she'd heard her every thought. 'Trinket?' That's an improvement over 'Capitol' at least, she thought tiredly.

"Should I?" The words sounded as empty as she felt.

"It's just as well," Johanna said and there wasn't even any venom behind the words.

Effie met the girl's brown wide set eyes, wondering how much she knew. Maybe all of it. That wouldn't be surprising. Peeta always used to say how alike Katniss and Haymitch were and while that was true Effie never stopped to marvel over how alike Haymitch and Johanna were. They'd shared a mutual respect for each other and an odd sort of friendship ever since the Games when they were part of the same group along with Chaff and Finnick. Of course Effie had only watched from the outside but even if Johanna acted out and he was acting in, the word "kindred" came to mind and the girl often reminded her of a younger Haymitch.

"Even if you think you know what he's going through, you don't," Johanna continued. "Like Plutarch and Fulvia going on about how they "know exactly how you feel!' You don't. None of you know what's going on inside a victor's head."

Well, what did you answer to that? There were no answers to give. She didn't know what he was going through. She couldn't even begin to understand and she never would because he'd never let her.

"Trust me," said Johanna. "It'll be better for all of you if you just step back."

Chapter Text

"It's so fucking cold here we should ask for a raise."

Clydas sucked greedily on his cigarette. What was left of it. He blew out some smoke and looked at the ramshackle houses around them.

"Place is dead. Nothing ever happens."

They were supposed to patrol but the icy night air kept them by the burn barrel. The helmets lay tossed at their feet and the fire danced over their young faces.

"We should have us a girl," Titan grinned, revealing his two front teeth that overlapped. His parents had named him Titan but he didn't live up to it. He was scrawny, rat like with a head that seemed undersized, poking up from the peacekeeper's uniform. "That'd be nice wouldn't it? A girl. Hehe, we could have us two girls! So we wouldn't have to wait in line!"

"Yeah, keep dreamin'."

"What? Cray does it. I've seen them coming to his door!"

"Cray's second in command! Shit, you really wanna dip your wick and see what you catch?" He stamped his boots against the ground to try and get some life back in to his toes.

Titan rubbed his nose surly.

"Well, sorry I like it better when girls keep it warm for me," he said, even though Clydas knew and everyone in their squad knew the only thing keeping Titan's genitals warm was his own right hand. "I have to pee," he muttered.

Clydas flung the butt of his cigarette into the flames while Titan left the fire for the backside of a nearby house.

The iron maiden and all her peacekeepers got to feast on whole roasted pigs and goats and wild boars with dark ale to wash it down with. And here they were, freezing their nuts off. Who knew when this stupid district would win again? If ever. By Spring they'd be back to the same old food packages shipped in from District 10 and 11, weighed and counted to the last grain of rice.

You'd think the Capitol would be more generous to the ones who protected their country.

"Pointless," he muttered. "Pointless."

A cry pierced the stillness and it was so sharp and unexpected Clydas jumped.

"What the hell?"

"No! No!"

He fumbled to get his flashlight out, both alarmed and eager that something finally happened.

"Hello?" He aimed the torch beam in the direction of the sound. "Anybody there?"

"Clydas!" He whipped around just in time to see Titan stumble back into the light. "I got one, Clydas! I got one!" The ends of his belt clinked and dangled as he dragged with him a dark-haired woman. "She's out after the bell, Clydas! It'd be her own fault, right? We can do what we want with her!"

"You're insane." Clydas couldn't help but grin. "We have to report her."

"Oh, come on!"

Clydas crossed his arms over his chest, taking a proper look at the girl. There was something familiar about her but he couldn't remember where he'd seen her before. Probably a reaping. How old could she be? 18? Her lip were busted, red and swollen.

"Someone's already been at her, it looks to me," he said. "Someone punched you, little darling?"

"Didn't you hear the bell?" Titan shook her and her pony tail down her back flipped back and forth. She stared at nothing, her face a mask. Just stood there and let it happen. The two boys grinned at each other.

Had they been smarter maybe they'd noticed that behind it there was something else, smoldering.

"If you gotta have one you could at least have picked someone pretty," Clydas said. "This one's all bones. Go hair like a horse tail."

"She's warm," Titan cackled. Still gloveless on one hand from earlier he dug his dirty fingernails into her cheeks. "Let's have a feel, eh?"

Faster than a fox trap snapping shut, the girl jammed her teeth into his hand.

Titan howled, jumping up and down. The girl dashed for freedom. Clydas caught her in the flight and almost snapped her skinny arms off when he locked them behind her back.

"She bit me! She bit me!"

"What's all this noise?"

They turned as another peacekeeper appeared. The visor on his helmet was pulled back, a pair off well-known mud-brown eyes looking between the two of them.

"She tried to get away, Peacekeeper Cray sir," Clydas said, his mouth agape. "We caught her, sir."

"She bit me!"

Blood had colored the ground at Titan's feet. In a heartbeat Cray's baton was in his hand and at her face.

"You try something like that again, girl and you'll end up with no teeth left", he said. "Who are you? What's your name?"

The girl didn't say a word. The only sound to be heard was the crackling fire and Titan's sobs. He cradled his hand and snot dripped from his nose. Cray gave him a look of utter disgust. He tore the hand cuffs from Titan's belt.

"Quit the weeping!" he said and shoved them into his hands. "Do something right for a change and throw her in one of the hunger cells."

Neither Titan nor Clydas lay another hand on the girl. All they wanted was to be rid of her. That was clear to anyone peering through the shutters when they took Helena away.

Of course Titan and Clydas didn't know that was her name. They wouldn't know for many years.

Without a word they brought her to the Justice building. The monstrous structure which towered higher than any other. The frozen ground crunched under their boots as they pulled her to the door on the backside. Clydas had to put his heels in to make it open on creaking and wailing hinges. Inside was only darkness. Like looking into a passage to hell.

Clydas turned on a switch, revealing the steps that took you to the dungeons. The further down they went, the colder it got. Broken spider webs hung from the one working bulb by the bottom of the steps, illuminating the rows of cells.

Helena stumbled over a metal grate when they pushed her inside. The cell was completely bare. No bed, no toilet, not even a window. Clydas locked, uncuffed her through the iron bars and Titan slammed his baton against the metal, cursing at her now that he was safely on the other side.

"Lets go," Clydas muttered and they disappeared up the steps. They switched off the light with a bang, leaving her in a cold, complete, paralyzing darkness.

Her teeth clattered. She lowered herself onto the ground, using her hands as guidance. She felt the metal grate and scooted away from it. She waited for her eyes to adjust. To make out forms and shapes. There was nothing. With slow movements she tied her loosened hair back in its usual ponytail and clasped her arms around her knees.

Did they get away? Did they get home safely?

Not ten minutes passed before someone turned the key again and the dungeons bathed in light. She knew who it was before she saw him.

Peacekeeper Cray had taken off his helmet. The naked lightbulb flickered over his features when he came down to her. He was in his mid-thirties but his hairline was already receding. With a completely round face, ruddy cheeks and constantly wet lips he looked like a large overgrown baby.

"Be glad it's me, girl," he said. "If the Head Peacekeeper knew you bit the idiot she'd have you whipped in the square. Or put you in the iron maiden. You know she enjoys that."

He wet his already wet lips and rested his gloved hand against the iron bars, tapping something against it.

"It's cold down here even in mid-summer", he said. "We don't get to use these cells often enough. Sometimes we forget we have someone down here. Until a few weeks later when we have to collect the body. What the rats left behind anyway."

He clanked his fingers against the metal once more. Helena realized it was a coin.

"You don't have to be here," he said. "I'm generous, girl. Just say the words and I'll let you out. I could use someone to warm my bed tonight."

Helena looked away, her face like cut in stone.

"Or maybe," he said, "I'll just come in and take one for free."

He paused, as if to let the reality of his threat sink in. Then his lips curved into a smile.

"But why all the trouble?" He put the coin back in his pocket. "You stay here and enjoy yourself. I've got plenty of takers."

Helena stared up at him, right into his mud-brown eyes and all at once it wasn't Cray she saw.

It was Sophie.

"Can you hear them, Helena?" her voice whispered in her memory. "Do you hear them? Do you hear the stars?"

"If you change your mind, you know where I live," Cray said. "If you get out."

Rot in hell.

She wished it so badly it was strange he didn't hear her. Cray disappeared and darkness consumed her once more.

Rot in hell.

xXx

The 12 hour shift was finally over. Dom relished those first breaths of clear night air when he and all the other coal miners walked out the big doors.

Glenn was by his side like he had for the past four years. Ever since they turned 18 they'd walked these black cinder streets together. They were all like a trail of black ghosts and light spilled out on the snow covered ground around the Seam as people dissapeared inside to their waiting families or their waiting beds.

On a normal day they'd talk but tonight Dom's thoughts were elsewhere.

"See ya tomorrow," Glenn said once they'd reached his house.

Dom was exhausted. He barely even manage a nod goodnight to his old friend and his wife when she appeared in the doorway.

"Dom," she said, before he'd go on. "Helena's back."

When they got news of Helena's imprisonment he'd wanted to go talk with the Head Peacekeeper and Cray and the others and he wasn't the only one. But Harold said no. There was nothing they could do but wait and see. If they tried anything it would only make it worse for her.

The lights were on in Helena's house, he saw from afar but he'd come almost all the way up to her door before he heard voices.

"It's none of our business," Harold said. "You should never have gone up there!"

Helena answered back. Words he couldn't make out.

"Because it's already too late!" her father said. "You'll stay away from them, Helena!"

"Pa, please just…" but she cut herself off mid-sentence when she saw Dom through the window. Harold gave him a hard stare and disappeared out of sight. The next moment she appeared at the door.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi."

She kept her hand on the handle to keep the wind from slamming the door shut. And, maybe, to keep him outside.

"I just wanted to see how you were," Dom said. "Ask if there's anything I can do."

"I can't really talk right now," Helena said. He watched her bruised lip with concern. "Please, just... just go."

"Will I see you on Sunday?"

"I don't know. Please, Dom."

She tried to close the door and he took a step back.

"I'm sorry, Helena," he said. "I'm so sorry."

Two days passed. The snow began to stick, for the first time that year. In less than a week it would have buried the whole district.

The wind rattled the trees around the Meadow. It had been their favourite meeting place ever since he started courting her. Somewhere where they could be alone.

Of course, he didn't know if she'd come at all today but he didn't mind waiting if it meant he could see her again, if only for a moment.

He crossed his arms over his chest, warming his hands in his armpits. He was a large man. Broad-shouldered. With his sharp jawline and swelling arms he could have come off scary or intimidating if it wasn't for his eyes. They betrayed his gentle soul.

"You sure you weren't switched at birth?" Glenn often joked about his light hair and his eyes that were more bluer than they were gray, "Handsome bastard."

"My grandma was merchant, bright head," Dom answered back and they both laughed.

An hour passed. A light snow began to fall and he'd just accepted that she wouldn't come, when he saw her.

Helena always looked like an old person when she walked. A hard life had lined her face even though she was still young. Thin and bird-like she came towards him, wrapped in her old, gray shawl. Her dark hair and olive skin stood out against all the white.

She didn't believe him when he said she was beautiful so he didn't say it but it didn't make it any less true. They sat back against their old, frozen log. He pulled off his jacket. It was so threadbare it didn't make much difference but he put it around her shoulders. He saw she had a package with her, wrapped in used brown paper.

"This is for you," she said. "I finished them last night."

It was the pair of mittens she'd once promised him. They perfectly matched his eyes. Dom smiled and put them on. Thick and warm and functional. Like those mittens she sold on market days along with socks and underclothes and other garments. That's where he first started to really notice her. When she wouldn't cave to the will of a peacekeeper when he tried to beat down the price of a pair of fur lined long underwear pants.

"Thank you," he said. And that's when he saw there was something else in her hands.

His mother's old wedding band. The ring he gave her when he proposed.

He looked up at her.

"Did Harold…," he began. The old man had given them his blessing but if he'd changed his mind this could very well be the last he ever saw of her. Her father's opinion meant a great deal to her.

But Helena shook her head. She looked so tired and down-hearted.

"I care about you, Dom. More than you know, even if maybe it doesn't always seem like it, but…"

"Is it because of Sophie?"

Like everybody else in Twelve he'd heard rumors of that night.

Her silence was enough for him to know he was right.

"What if we have children," she said. "What if it's your son or daughter's name they'll call out at the reaping?"

"It won't be," said Dom with a heat behind it that she seldom heard in his voice. "I won't allow it. Not if I'll so have to work myself to death in the mines."

Helena didn't respond. She was no fool and neither was he. They both knew that at the end of the day it was out of their control.

Dom hesitated and then he said,

"We don't have to have any. If that's what you want. It could be just us. I know I don't have much to offer. But I would love you. I'd never do anything to hurt you. We could build a home together."

xXx

And they were married. On the first warm Spring day they all gathered at Helena's for a quiet dinner before they walked across the Seam to Dom's house where she would now live, as Mrs. Abernathy.

Pa placed a scratchy kiss on her cheek. The first time he'd ever done so.

He was a short man, Harold, especially next to his daughter. Thin as a hung up suit with white hair and wearing the same clothes Helena's mother had once made for their wedding day.

He'll be all alone now.

The thought pinched her heart. He'd still live in their old house where she grew up but she wouldn't be there anymore to take care of him.

"You're a good girl", he muttered. "You'll do fine."

"Thank you, pa," Helena mumbled. She took her husband's hand and as the others sang District 12's wedding song she stepped over the threshold to her new home.

Dom had promised he'd never hurt her but it hurt when he put it in her. She knew what men looked like between their legs but this was something different. And when she watched it, in tangles of dark curly hair, she couldn't see how it would even fit inside her.

It hurt. But pain wasn't something Helena was unfamiliar with and there was something else there too. A tenderness she did not expect. Dom was all muscles. He was lean and hard and golden in the light from their first fire. He looked like he could crush you like a bug but his kisses were soft and tender.

"I wish I could stay here with you," he said the following morning when he had to be back in the mine, newly-wed or not.

Glenn and some other crew mates already waited outside. Dom pulled on his mittens and kissed her.

"I'll see you tonight," he said before he left. She heard their voices disappear down the path. Against her will she pictured Dom, packed tightly together with the other coal miners as the elevator creaked deeper and deeper into the earth. And they wouldn't be released from the mine until their daily coal quota had been achieved.

"The Abernathys are made out of strong stuff," her father used to say. People loved to share tales about them. They were poor but everyone respected them. And they'd mined coal for generations.

"Only thing I know I'm good at," Dom said. He always joked about his job. Perhaps he had to, to be able to stand going there every day. "I couldn't sew in a button to save my life."

Ma had been an amazing seamstress. When other children Helena's age were out playing on the Meadow or by the school Violet taught her young daughter how to sew. It wasn't always easy for a small child but if she whined her mother always said the same thing,

"You'll learn it now, so you never have to work in the ground."

She'd always be grateful to her for that.

Most of her mother's clients had been merchants, people who could afford textiles and have their clothes sewn from scratch, and after she died Helena inherited some of those families when she got older.

People in the Seam had to make do with what they had. When your children outgrew their clothes it was handed over to a younger sibling. Kids running around in their father's old shirts were a more common sight than not. If something broke you mended it but still, when the need for new garments was unavoidable Helena was mostly the one they went to.

Dom's house,"Our house,"she had to remind herself, didn't look much different from the one where she's lived all her days. Especially now when ma's old loom stood in the corner. It was the same creaking floors. The same thin walls where cold air seeped in through the cracks.

The wooden sofa bed that pa had made them for a wedding gift had also been carried into the kitchen along with the rest of her few possessions. In the weeks that followed she made rag rugs with the help of ma's loom. She scrubbed the floors, cleaned the windows, washed the cabinets until they shone. She washed some old pots and when summer came she grew new potted plants with the flowers Dom dug up for her.

When he got home in the evening after those endless shifts, black with coal dust, Helena washed the long hoursfrom him, relaxed the aching muscles in his body. His lips tasted of soot when they kissed.

They grew closer together and within their four walls existed peace and happiness. As much peace and happiness you could find in a place like Twelve.

When her period was late she thought nothing of it. Not at first. She'd accepted the risk when she married Dom but her period had always been irregular. Secretly, when the first year came to a close, she'd thought, hoped maybe, that she wasn't able to have children.

Dom wanted the baby. Even though he shared the same fears and worries a she did, as every parent in the districts did, he wanted a family. Had probably always wanted one. So when he gathered her close in bed and touched her belly she didn't pull away.

But long after he'd fallen asleep Helena lay awake, wondering if she'd even make a good mother at all. A nd when she closed her eyes all she saw was Sophie. Her small form under the blanket. Her eyes like black pools as she fought the sleep syrup. And how she'd gasped, like a fish out of water.

"Don't let them take me, nana. Don't let the bad men take me!"

Sophie, who died anyway.

When her water broke Dom wasn't home. And even if he'd known there was no way for him to get to her before his shift ended.

She thought the pain would kill her. Rip her open and it would be the end of it. Old Mrs. Hawthorne later told her she heard her, on her way into town.

Sae was with her. She always came when the women in the Seam gave birth. She saw her through the hours and when the sun set she pulled the baby from her body.

Someone must have told Dom what was going on. He barged into the house just as Sae wrapped the baby in a blanket. Out of breath from running half across the district and with eyes so white in his black face he stood next to Helena when Sae placed the little boy in her arms.

It was the first time Helena saw him cry.

It was strange. This new little person in their lives. So small and wilful with pink, round cheeks and tiny hands that would tear out a fistful of your hair if you didn't watch out. He was always hungry and he kicked and screamed angrily if he didn't immediately get what he wanted. When she put him to her chest he latched on with such intensity you'd think he was afraid someone would take it away from him.

But after a while he always came to a rest and looked up at Helena with his round, gray eyes, at peace with his world. Yes, they were Seam gray but in every other respect he looked just like Dom. He had his nose, his chin, the same smile, the same disarray of dirty blonde hair.

They named him Haymitch.

Chapter Text

The steady sound of the sewing machine filled the kitchen. Soup cooked gently on the stove and it was one of those rare peaceful moments in the Abernathy household. Helena steered the textile under the needle and her large stomach pressed out her own dress as she worked.

A content little humming came from under the table behind her. The fresh table cloth reached almost all the way down to the floor and the fabric flickered when a child's foot poked out before it quickly drew back in again.

Helena lifted her gaze when a shadow moved outside the window and she saw her husband as he bent over the rain barrel. He did so every day when he got home from work, ever since Haymitch was born. Washed off the worst, put on some fresh clothes so he could spend more time with his son.

"Where's my boy?" Dom asked the moment he opened the door and Haymitch scrambled out so fast he nearly pulled with him his mother's neatly set table.

"Here!" Haymitch shrieked and threw himself into his father's embrace. They laughed like maniacs, both of them as Dom swung him around in his arms. Helena didn't even turn her head. Almost five years had gotten her used to her two boys and the racket they were making.

"Again!" Haymitch shouted and Dom swung him around over and over until his own chuckles deteriorated into a fit of coughing. He put Haymitch down and the boy tumbled over, dizzy and giggling. Dom pressed his hankie against his mouth trying to stifle the coughs. Haymitch pulled himself up, grinning and tugging at his father's shirt tail.

"Again!"

Dom waved him off good-naturedly.

"'nother time, kid. Pull me… pull me a chair, will you, Haymitch?"

He did so and Dom slumped down on it, panting and wheezing. But he wiped his mouth with the hankie and smiled at Haymitch when the boy crawled up on his lap. Dom ruffled his hair and Haymitch had already begun searching through his pockets.

This was a common game in the Abernathy household and it didn't take Haymitch long to find what he was looking for.

"That's for you," Dom said. Haymitch held the round smooth gray stone on his palm. It glittered in the afternoon light. He stroked it against his cheek.

They were his most beloved treasures. His father had given him one every other day since he turned three. At night Haymitch kept them in a box by the kitchen sofa since his mother didn't want him to have them with him in bed.

It was grandpa Harold who built it. Each night pa lifted the wooden seat off the kitchen sofa revealing the soft beddings underneath. Before they tucked him in and turned the lights off, both he and ma sat with him for a while. Haymitch would then hold on to his father's large hand and talk nonstop. About what they would do on Sunday, about his little brother or sister. And school. Most of all school.

It was still a few months to go. Helena wanted to make him something new for his first day. Something else than his usual clothes made from Dom's hand-me-downs. A new shirt, a pair of trousers. Haymitch would get to choose the colors.

If they could save up enough money until then.

Haymitch always woke before anyone else in the family. But one sunny summer morning when breakfast was already on the table Haymitch burrowed down into his pillow and didn't want to get up. And it didn't take Helena long to find the first pox on his skin.

Dom moved out into the kitchen and their son was installed in their bed. The two of them had already had chicken pox but Haymitch had no fun days to come. Red spots covered him from head to toe and he whimpered and cried and kicked around the bed sheets when his mother wouldn't let him scratch. Greasy Sae came with a salve from the apothecary and Haymitch spend most of his days sticky and miserable, clutching his mother, disgruntled that her large stomach was so much in the way.

Seven days in though, the spots had scabbed over and Haymitch was almost back to normal. A little subdued maybe. By then Helena badly needed to make a visit to the Thornleys in town. The best would have been to leave Haymitch on the bed contentedly and with a book but with Sae not home and with no one else to look after him there was nothing else to do but get the boy dressed and bring him.

The market day was in full swing. Haymitch's pants pockets clinked with each step he took, filled as they were with some of his favorite rocks.

He hummed to himself and swung his free hand that wasn't holding ma's but when they reached the Thornley's door and he realized where they were going he resisted, just like Helena knew he would.

"Not dagon lady!"

"Don't call her that, Haymitch. She's not a dragon lady. And it won't take long." But Haymitch put his heels in and shook his head, as stubbornly as only Haymitch could be.

"No, no, no!"

Helena swallowed a sigh.

"Alright," she said. Market stalls had been put up all around the square and in the middle a group of children played, jumping rope and playing clap games. "Then you'll stay here with the other children where I can see you."

"Mm," said Haymitch and Helena let him loose, crossing her fingers he'd behave.

"I expected you here three days ago," Ruth said when she opened the door. Her daughter peered out behind her skirt. They were very alike Gertie and her mother. Same brown hair, snubbed noses and spotty skin.

Gertie eyed the sewing basket suspiciously. She hated it when Helena arrived since the clothes she made were usually for her. Sometimes she had fits of rage and threw herself on the floor kicking and screaming and boxing herself with her fists.

"Haymitch had the chicken pox," Helena said. "He's not contagious," she added but the woman had already ushered her daughter inside.

"I shouldn't have to wait," Ruth said. "Just because the Seam are spreading around diseases I shouldn't have to…"

Helena listened with very measured features. It was always the same. A rant always followed when she knocked on Thornley's door, about one thing or the other. "I'm so sick of those brats from the Seam!" was her favorite subject. That Helena might take offence didn't even seem to have crossed her mind.

But she was the only regular customer Helena could count on besides the Undersee's. And afterwards she could be almost mild. Helena got a feeling Ruth needed someone to talk to, even if it was just to pour out all of her bitterness. She was divorced. And to be devorced was all but unheard of in Twelve. Maybe that's why she was so angry all the time.

They kept to themselves, Ruth and Gertie, but she liked the baker and his wife, or at least approved of them because Helena saw them often enough in the bakery. Not a surprise really. Kinder people than the Mellark's were hard to come by. And their goods were first class.

Gertie always stood close to the door then, in her brand-new dress and nibbled on the tip of her thumb, not quite sucking on it and when Mrs. Mellark saw it she always told her son to go and say hi to her.

Graham was just two years older than Haymitch but he'd always been big for his age. He never talked much but he was a kind soul, just like his parents. He trudged over to Gertie when his mother told him to. And then the pair of them stood there next to each other, until Ruth was done with her purchases.

They agreed on a new time to take the measurements and bid each other good morning. Helena shifted her weight to her other foot, rubbing her hand against her back. But she hadn't more than turned from Ruth's house when she heard a loud shriek. A shriek she recognized.

On the ground in a cloud of dust, Haymitch rolled around with one of the other children. Both he and the girl screamed and hit each other everywhere they could. The other children, frightened and alarmed stood around them and one girl cried with her hand pressed to her face.

Just when Helena and another running woman reach their children the girl with flying blonde hair pressed Haymitch into the dirt. She sat on him and both of them hit their fists on the other wherever they could.

"Maysilee!" Mrs Donner pulled the girl up just when Helena pulled her son up. They still tried to kick each other and she kept him away from Maysilee. They were covered in dirt and grazes. And the other girl, the sister, cried more than ever.

"What is this, Haymitch!?"

"She took my rock!" Haymitch yelled and angry tears ran down his pox covered face.

"I didn't!" Maysilee pushed her long blonde hair from her eyes and mouth furiously, her face all red. "I just looked at it!"

"Mine! Mine!" Haymitch stomped his foot on the ground. "Stoopid!"

"Haymitch, that's enough of that," Helena said and Haymitch silenced but he rubbed his wet cheeks angrily, making them even dirtier.

Helena and Mrs Donner pulled their children towards the sweetshop. Haymitch, Maysilee and Leonore who sobbed uncontrollably, holding on to her mother's hand.

In the apartment above they washed off their fighters. Haymitch glared at Maysilee who glared right back while their mother's put band aids on elbows and knees. Leonore, seeing her sister wasn't in any immediate danger had stopped crying. She watched Haymitch curiously.

"Hi," she said.

"Hm," said Haymitch but after a look from his mother he muttered,

"Hello."

"I have a birdie, Maysilee have a birdie too."

"Why don't you show him Pip and Flip," their mother said. Leonore nodded eagerly and took her sister's hand.

Haymitch watched them disappear into the next room. His face was still dark but the curiosity won over and he followed them.

Mrs. Donner pulled out a chair for Helena and set the kettle to boil. The canaries sang and twittered in the next room and they heard their children's voices and most of all Leonore when she eagerly presented the birds.

"They grow up so fast," Mrs. Donner said when she poured tea into their cups. Her long hair was tied back in a bun. Helena remembered her at school, always smiling always surrounded by a group of friends. It was her father's sweetshop and she had never been short on suitors before she became Mrs Donner.

"They're around the same age, aren't they?"

"He'll start school in September," Helena said.

"The girls too." She blew on her tea and took a sip. "I've been meaning to talk to you. Mrs. Undersee told me what excellent work you did on Ollie's school clothes…"

xXx

And as sunny as anyone could ever wish for, the first day arrived. For Haymitch, for Maysilee and Leonore and all the other five year olds. Haymitch came to school washed and combed and dressed in a sky blue shirt.

Pa was in the mines and ma had to be home with his two day old brother. But grandpa Harold was there. He and all the other parents and relatives lined the walls. Haymitch was shown into a bench just behind the Donner girls and when the boy sought him out his grandfather gave him a hint of a wink and Haymitch smiled, a little less nervous.

"You're growing like weed, Haymitch," pa said when they were all seated at the dinner table. Ma and pa and Haymitch and grandpa Harold. And baby Amadeus. Haymitch carried out the moses basket for ma to put him in so he wouldn't feel left out.

"Soon you're gonna want to borrow my shaving kit, won't you?" Dom said and Haymitch grinned, mouth full of stew.

"I don't have a beard!"

"You sure?" Dom said and reached out to feel his chin.

But before he could, a spasm of bone rattling coughs ripped through his body and he tipped the water jug over when he pressed his hand against his mouth. A sea of water flowed over the table before Helena could snatch it. Amadeus wailed, Haymitch patted him and tears tilted down Dom's bright red face. When he lowered the hankie to try and draw a breath it was covered in black mucus.

"You have to see the doctor," Helena said. That was when they were in bed and both the boys were sleeping.

"Helena…"

"That's what he's here for," she said. "It's his job to take care of the coal miners."

"You know what'd happen. He'll just say I'm not fit to work."

"You can't go on like this!" she said, fighting to keep her voice down so she wouldn't wake the children.

"There're four of us now."

"We'll talk to pa. Maybe the woodshop …"

"They haven't had an apprentice in almost six years now. You think the master's gonna want a 30 year old hand-me-down coal miner?"

Amadeus whimpered in his crib and Helena pulled the covers from the bed. She didn't look at Dom.

"Don't worry about me, Len," he said when she put the baby to her chest and the whimpers stopped. "I'll be fine."

He watched her back as she fed their child and even though neither of them said it they were both thinking it.

Dom would be fine, because he had to be.

Chapter Text

Everybody called her Madam and her house was the oldest, grayest one in District 12. If you walked beyond her back garden you reached the woodland cemetery. People never went that path though. Not if they could help it. People still held a great respect for the woman but it was more than that.

"She's bad luck," Mrs. Thornley said and pressed her lips together whenever she saw Madam in town.

But bad luck or not it didn't stop people from buying her liquor. She made it herself from the potatoes she grew in her back garden and from dandelions.

Year after year her house had withstood the forces of nature. Weather and wind, sun and rain had left it slant and ramshackle, as if about to collapse in on itself.

Haymitch peered at it from behind the honeysuckle bush where all three of them stood hidden. He felt Leonore's nervous breaths against his neck.

"Don't do it, Haymitch," she whispered.

"Yeah, if you don't dare that's OK," Maysilee teased and Haymitch's eyebrows knitted together. The wind rustled through the trees and bushes and their hair. Thunder clouds lay overhead, thick and dark. The rain would be here at any moment.

Haymitch's eyes were fixed on Madam's house.

"Let's go to Ollie and help him feed the bunnies," Leonore said but it was like he didn't hear her.

Just like the woman herself, the house didn't seem to belong anywhere. Not the Seam. Not town. If anything it was neighbor with the Victor's Village. If you could call twelve empty houses neighbors. You could see one of the roof tops far on the right, behind the trees.

Sometimes they hid in the bushes as close as they could get, peering inside the Village. But they never went any further because if the groundskeeper or anyone else on the Capitol's payroll saw them in there, they'd really be in trouble and so would their families.

Not that they wanted to get closer. The Victor's Village was a spooky place with all its empty houses and every rose and tree, every blade of grass so in order it didn't seem natural. The shut windows stared at you, like blind eyes. Waiting for the victors that never came.

"She'll kill you," Leonore whispered. "She'll eat you." Haymitch's arms prickled but he remained just as determined. He'd never been able to back down from a challenge.

He would have to run straight out in to the open to reach the house. Where Madam might lurch inside. He tried to count the distance, to see how long it would take him to get to her door. Just to her door and touch the handle.

"Well?" Maysilee said. "You afraid or not?"

Haymitch pressed his lips together.

"I'm not afraid of anything."

And he ran.

"She killed her own granddaughter," Leonore gasped after him but Haymitch sprinted, quick and silent as a rabbit. He dove under the window just as the first thunder clap cracked over their heads, like a giant slamming two rocks together.

The Donner twins gasped and Haymitch put his hand over his mouth so his quick breaths wouldn't give him away.

He listened over the beating of his heart, ready for flight. If Madam was hiding inside. If Madam stood there on the other side of the door, just waiting to grab him.

"I want to go home."

"Hush, Lea."

Very very slowly Haymitch poked his nose above the window frame. The thunder rumbled again and he shivered all over. The window was so dirty he hardly saw anything. He could make out the shapes of a floor lamp but no movements.

Emboldened he got up from his hunched position. It was an old wooden door, crooked. Didn't look like it shut properly.

He looked back at the Donner twins. Even Maysilee looked impressed now. Haymitch flashed them a grin and he reached out and touched the handle.

"Now you try and behave, Haymitch," his mother used to say, often, before she set him loose in the morning.

Because even if Maysilee was the one who ran the fastest, climbed the highest, found the best hiding places and Leonore always came up with the funniest games there was one thing Haymitch managed better than anyone else and that was getting in trouble. He never meant to. He just seemed to end up there anyway.

Like now. Right now. When all he meant to do was touch the handle, he found himself push the door open and step inside.

With eyes big and round Haymitch gazed into the one room that was Madam's house. Not a single kid in school had ever been in here.

It didn't look like a witch's den, even if it wasn't as clean as ma kept their house.

Drowsy flies buzzed against the windows. The sink was loaded with dirty dishes. There was a bed. The lamp. No carpets on the floor. A filled bookcase that listed to the right.

And something else. Haymitch's eyes had been drawn to it almost as soon as he entered. It was piled over with more books and more stacks of old papers but Haymitch knew what it was the moment he saw it.

A piano.

"Go back to your seat, Haymitch. That is not for children," Mr Branch had once told him in music assembly and closed the fallboard with finality when Haymitch had had the audacity to try and look at the ivories.

'That is not for children'. What an obvious lie. Everybody knew the Branch gave private lessons. It wasn't even a secret.

'The piano is not for

you'. That's what he meant to say.

To spend money on piano lessons was an insanity only town's people like the Undersee's could afford. But Haymitch bet that even if he'd had a bag full of money his teacher wouldn't let him touch the piano. Not after what he said in class. The Branch had pressed Leonore to tears one day after she failed to answer one of his questions and Haymitch had shouted "You're a bully!" right in his face.

When Haymitch got older he'd learn to keep a low profile. To hold his tongue, for everyone's sake. But back then, when he was still little he couldn't keep quiet if someone was being unfair. And since District 12 didn't exactly lack injustice it was a big reason why he got into trouble so often.

He gazed down at Madam's piano. The ivories seemed to be the only things in the house that weren't covered in dust. It was the oldest, most beat down, poor-man's-piano he'd ever seen. Nothing like the grand piano they played during the president's birthday and days like that.

It probably didn't even work anymore. And still he itched to try it. To see if he could make a sound, to play even though he didn't know how to play.

And it was then, right then, that the door handle rattled.

Haymitch whipped around. He saw the door push inwards, the wood creaked. He looked around in panic and fast as a rat he darted under the bed.

He lay there covered in dust and his heart beat so hard he thought she would hear it. The dark sky made it hard to make out any details. All he saw was a large form in the doorway.

The bedspread hung halfway down the floor, poorly hiding him and he watched Madam through the fringes as she walked into the room.

In a seven year old's eyes she was enormous. A wall of a woman who seemed to take up the whole house. She wasn't fat or heavy. Just large. Everything about her was large.

She muttered something to herself and the floor creaked as she walked straight towards him and he only just managed to hold back a gasp. But all she did was sit down on the bed which sank from her weight.

The seconds ticked by. Rain began to fall, tapping down the windows, thrummed against the roof. Haymitch had Madam's broad feet just an inch away from his face. With bated breath he listened to one deep sigh after another coming from the woman.

And then just when it felt like he couldn't take another moment of it Madam pulled herself up. She stood there and he wished, wished with all that he had that she'd just realized she had to be someplace else, rain or no rain.

And then, out of all things, she walked over to the piano. She sat down, the stool creaked under her weight.

And she played a melody Haymitch had never heard before.

The Capitol decided which music was being played in Twelve, just as they decided which books you were allowed to read. So most of it was grandiose propaganda of some sort.

But this was something else. Something the Branch wouldn't play during music assembly, he was sure of it.

He couldn't see Madam from where he was hiding but the music, those quick and joyful sounds, every high note, every low tune, they seemed to resonate within his very soul.

It mesmerized him in a way nothing had ever done.

Like she was playing together with the rain. Like it was rain.

Without even realizing he did it Haymitch pulled himself up slightly and peered over the bed to try and see how she moved her hands. Her back swayed back and forth in time with the music. He listened with his mouth open, eyes unblinking, spellbound, until the very last note died out and there was just the rain. Madam's hands fell down from the ivories.

And she turned her head and saw him.

A gasp escaped Haymitch, he tried to hide back in but it was too late. With a speed impressive for such an big lady Madam jumped from her chair and pulled him out so violently Haymitch thought his head might fall from its neck.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"What the hell is this!?" Her hoarse, deep voice almost scared the life out of Haymitch. "What are you doing in my house!?" The woman shook him until his teeth clattered. "You little beast! I ought to strike you down!"

"I didn't do nuthin!"

"Who are you!?"

"Haymitch!" Haymitch cried. "Haymitch Abernathy!"

Madam's teeth were bared like a mad dog. Their faces were just inches apart and he saw her closer than he'd ever wanted to see her. Her brow and jaws and nose all seemed to jut out from her face in odd angles. Coarse graying black hair. Eyes like crevices as if she'd been stung by trackerjackers. Haymitch's chest rose and fell with each breath he took and he didn't dare move, or look away. He could've been a ragdoll in her clawlike hand.

Then she released her hold on his arm, but only to grab him by the shirt collar.

And she threw him out in the rain and slammed the door.

xXx

The master craftsman didn't want any children running around the woodshop but luckily he wasn't in when Haymitch slipped through the doors.

It was always loud in here. The sounds from the machines, the fires going, men shouting. It was essentially a woodshop, stone masonry and blacksmithery all in one. The men working here, because they were essentially men, built houses and furniture, blew glass, fixed leaking roofs, fixed the plumbing, forged crosses, made gravestones. More than one had lost fingers in here or worse. But despite its poor work conditions it was a very sought after place to make a living. An alternative to the mines.

Harold was just piecing together a bed and Haymitch climbed up on a stool next to him.

Usually when he visited his grandpa Haymitch would talk all the time but now he just sat there, deep in thought. He watched his grandfather work and over the din all around, he could still hear it.

The music. The rain music.

"Grandpa."

"Yes, Haymitch?"

"Why does Madam live away from everyone else?"

Harold hammered a nail into the wood with one expert strike.

"Why're you asking?"

Haymitch shrugged. The old man walked around the bed to take the other side.

"Was her father's house," he said as he hammered. "He was a gravedigger. Looked after the cemetery."

"Madam's a gravedigger too?"

"She was a teacher."

"All teachers are merchants."

"She was different. She was gifted."

The old man reached for another nail and hammered it into the wood. Haymitch hesitated.

"She found her on the graveyard, didn't she? When she was a baby." Harold's eyebrows creased together. "Leonore says Madam killed…"

"Haymitch." There lay a warning in his grandfather's voice. "You'll show her respect."

Haymitch bit his lip.

"I'm sorry, grandpa," he said and after that Harold only concentrated on his work.

Haymitch climbed down from the stool. It was time for him to go home anyway.

"Haymitch," Harold said before he could leave and Haymitch turned around. "You shouldn't bother Madam," the old man said. "She deserves to be left alone after all she's been through."

Chapter Text

"I'm not coming with. I don't feel well."

They were halfway to the bakery when Haymitch said it. It'd been Tessa's idea, when they all met up after school. The Mellark's was a fine place to be when it rained. Warm and secluded and filled with the wondrous scent of freshly baked goods.

The dirt road was filled with puddles that they all zigzagged past. Everyone but Maysilee who walked straight through. Graham had Tessa's school bag slung over his own. She was like a delicate princess next to him. When she smiled it always made him smile too. Smile and talk. Graham, who never said one word more than necessary.

Haymitch had been quiet all week. And now the closer they got to the bakery the more undecided he'd become.

"You go," he said just as two women, both miner's wives, both with a toddler on the hip, passed them. One of them stared over her shoulder and muttered to her friend,

"With town's kids…"

"I'll see you all tomorrow, 'K?" Haymitch said.

Eventually they all walked on. Everyone but Leonore.

"I know where you're going, Haymitch," she said and his cheeks flushed pink. "Mr Harold says you're not supposed to."

Haymitch put his hands in his pockets and stared sullenly back into her piercing blue eyes.

"Grandpa didn't say I'm not supposed to. He just said that I shouldn't… he didn't forbid it…"

"You've been following her around. I've seen it," Leonore said. "And Madam doesn't want you there either, Haymitch. You'll just get in trouble."

"Nobody needs to know."

"But Mr. Harold…"

"No one will know. Not if you don't tell 'em, Lea", Haymitch said brusquely. "Just keep your mouth shut or I'll… I'll tell everybody about how you wet the bed."

Leonore's mouth fell open but before she could respond Haymitch had already run off.

He knew he'd been unfair to his friend but the guilt only made him run faster. And it wasn't just Leonore.

He'd never disobeyed his grandfather before.

Haymitch was small for his age but he was the fastest in school. Water and mud splashed up his skinny legs as he went. The rain worsened, drenched him all through but he just wiped the water out of his face and went on and on, until he saw the distorted lights of Madam's cot.

Panting and wetter than a drowned rat he reached the old house. The lights from inside shone over his soaked features.

He lifted his hand, hesitated for a split second, then knocked. His heart beat in his throat and it didn't take long until the door swung open and he saw her there, as big and broad as ever.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, just sizing each other up. The big woman and the tiny boy.

Haymitch swallowed thickly. He tried to keep from shivering and when he spoke, his voice sounded much more confident than he felt.

"Teach me."

Madam's eyebrows came together, her face as hard and unrelenting as a rock.

"Teach me how to play," Haymitch said. "The Branch'll never let me. No one'll let me. But I wanna learn. Please, Madam."

She pursed her lips. Wasn't fond of that name, he could tell.

"You little shadow," she said finally. "You think I haven't noticed you sneaking around? If you're going to follow somebody, learn to do it properly."

But those hard as flint eyes that could make grown men quiver in their boots wandered over him, taking in his hunched, trembling shoulders, his clothes clinging to him and his gray eyes that seemed all too big for his pale, skinny face. She sighed.

And she stepped aside, holding up the door.

"Well, get in," she said when he didn't move. "Before you catch your death out here."

Haymitch stepped over the threshold and Madam had already turned away from him, walking over to the fireplace.

Haymitch stood where she'd left him while a rain puddle slowly grew at his feet.

"Get yourself a towel," she said without turning around. "It's in the wardrobe."

He did as he was told. The towel was so old and stiff you could cut yourself on it. He patted it against his face and his eyes went to the piano.

"Here," Madam said and he looked up to see her hold out a dripping, steaming hot mug to him.

"Um… no… thank you."

"Don't be ungrateful when I'm offering," Madam said and made him accept it. "I'm not going to poison you, child. Whatever your little friends might have told you."

Haymitch took a tiny sip. Mint tea. He warmed his icy hands around the mug.

"What was that song you were playin'?" he said, watching the piano. "It sounded like rain."

"'Playing'," Madam corrected. "It won't kill you to speak properly, boy."

"But you can teach me, right?"

Madam drew a deep breath.

"Why?" she said. "It will never be of any use to you."

"Dancin'… I mean dancing is of no use," Haymitch said. "But people dance. We dance at the Harvest Festival. All the time. Please. I want to play like you."

Madam was quiet. Haymitch took a big mouthful of his mint tea as if that would put him on her good side.

"You're too young for Vivaldi," she said.

"What's a Vivaldi?" What's that?"

Madam grunted and gestured him over.

"Stay over there," she said as she sat down in front of the piano. "And if you're going to be in my house," she added, "the first rule is you'll speak when spoken to. So if you think you can keep quiet, I'll show you the basics. Can you do that?"

Haymitch nodded.

xXx

"Your feet are like two icicles, Haymitch," pa said when he tucked them in that night. The flames from the fireplace made Haymitch's cheeks glow warm and red and ma and pa sat by his bedside like they did every night. "So, how was your day, kid?" pa asked.

"Good."

He looked up at their kind faces and knew this was when he was supposed to tell them about Madam.

The words were at the tip of his tongue.

But he didn't.

Pa placed a kiss on his cheek and Haymitch flung his toothpick arms around his neck before his parents retreated back to their own room where Amadeus already slept in his cot.

Lying in the kitchen sofa bed Haymitch watched the pale moon through the window and remembered how his fingers moved from one ivory to another and how it had sounded.

"These notes are the alphabet of music," Madam had said. "Memorize them and you can play every song there is."

It was the last thing he thought before he fell into a deep sleep.

The next day it had finally stopped raining. Saturday and the Seam was filled with morning sounds. This would have been when he ran over to the twins's house and asked if they wanted to play.

Instead he ran in the other direction, right back to Madam's house.

When no one answered his knock he walked around to the back garden. This was where Madam grew the potatoes she made booze of. Beyond were just woods and the woodland cemetery where his grandmother was buried.

Haymitch was just watching a large monarch butterfly land on a late summer bloom when the door to the outhouse opened and Madam appeared. In today's bright sunlight, the threads in her dark hair shone like silver. It was pretty, in its own way. The only pretty thing about her.

He half-feared she'd chase him off with a stick but she didn't.

And sipping another cup of scalding mint tea he got to take his old spot next to her by the piano.

Two years came and went. Haymitch spent his days with the twins and sometimes Graham and Tess, he did his homework, played with Amadeus and at least once every other week he went over to Madam's, when the coast was clear.

His worst fear was that someone would see him and tell ma and pa. He never dared to visit her on the same day of the week and he never took the same route there twice in a row.

He felt guilty for keeping secrets from his parents, he never had before. But he was terrified they'd put a stop to it and say just like Madam, "Playing the piano is useless in District 12."

Madam still reminded him of that quite often but she kept teaching him all the same. He wondered why sometimes because she didn't seem to like him all that much. But of course, Madam didn't like anybody. Sometimes she would grab him by the lapel and throw him out the door like she couldn't stand having him there a moment longer.

She was fearsome and confusing but not enough to keep him from going there again and again and her door was never closed for him.

"Why do you like to play the piano so much?"

It was on a clear summer afternoon that Maysilee asked. The Hunger Games were over for the year, a nightmare they were all trying their best to forget and the five of them sat together on the Meadow, like so many times before. Tess leaned back against Graham who had his arms around her, making a crown of flowers that he rested on her golden curls. Haymitch whom had tried to teach Leonore how to play on a grass straw lowered his hands at Maysilee's question.

It wasn't easy to explain because he was still only 9 years old and could hardly even make sense of it himself.

"I just do," he said.

Madam was a tough teacher. It was almost impossible to impress her. But in the end it was what spurred him on. To always get better. And he was a fast learner. She had introduced him to several of the "great masters" – Vivaldi being one of them, but had also taught him the common songs, old and new, that they sang in music assembly.

Most of all he enjoyed to play freehand or try and learn a new melody just by ear.

When it rained they played four hands and always the same song. 'A rain of tears', the one she'd played the first day.

"It was her favorite," Madam muttered, massaging her crooked hands after the last tone had died off and Haymitch knew better than to ask any questions.

Playing the piano, it consumed him.

He knew he couldn't make any money from it and still it was the only thing he knew he wanted to do. It was like he forgot the world when he played. There were no fears or want or poverty. There were no Hunger Games.

Just the music.

The only other time he ever felt like that was when he read to his brother. Baby Amadeus who wasn't a baby anymore. Ma had come up with his name, an even more impossible one than 'Haymitch' and Haymitch loved him more than anyone else in the world.

If you passed the Abernathy's when Haymitch was at school you could be sure to see the four year old sitting outside waiting for his brother to come home while he played with a pile of rocks. Haymitch's precious collection that Amadeus had gotten for his third birthday.

Haymitch led an eventful life with Maysilee and Leonore and sometimes Amadeus had to wait forever. But sooner or later he'd always come home.

"Haymitch!" Amadeus called, waving. "Haymitch, here! I'm here!"

And Haymitch slumped down on the front step and put his arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Can we go to the bookshop?"

If Haymitch loved playing the piano Amadeus loved stories.

They didn't come from a family of readers. Books were expensive but it was more than that. There were books that circulated in the Seam, (Capitol approved books but still) and they got read to shreds. But ma's eyesight wasn't great. That's why she had to keep the lamp so close when she worked by her sewing machine. And pa, he said he could never concentrate on a book. He just ended up reading the same sentence over and over.

But Amadeus loved stories and Haymitch took him to the small bookshop in town whenever he asked. It was run by a Mr. and Mrs. Henderson. They had black skin and graying hair and if the store was empty, which it was most of the time, the Abernathy brothers got to sit and read together in the old armchair even though the couple knew the two boys could never afford to buy anything.

It was always the same book. A large beautiful old volume with leather-bound covers and elaborate illustrations for each story. Amadeus would then crawl up on his brother's lap and have Haymitch read to him.

"Can we go there?" the little boy pressed now and tugged at his arm until Haymitch took his hand and they headed into town together.

And while the two brothers sat perched up in the bookshop's armchair reading, someone else arrived at the Abernathy's door.

Helena poured him tea and Glenn wrapped his large hands around the mug. The sun shone against his broken nails that were ingrained with coal dust.

"I'm worried for him, Mrs. A."

Dom couldn't keep up, he told her. Not the way he used to. He was sinking the rest of his crew down. Glenn and a few others had tried to help fill his daily quota when the peacekeepers looked the other way but he'd still gotten warnings more than once.

Glenn's eyes were red and tired as he met Helena's across the table and she saw how hard it took him to say it. But Dom's crew mate had always told the truth straight and he did so now too. The reality which her husband had tried to keep from his family.

"He's got Black lung."

Helena nodded. She'd known for quite some time, even if Dom denied it. His strength had always been his pride. He was the man in the house, the one to put food on the table. It was just the way he'd been raised and that they even needed Helena's small income to make ends meet was a sore spot.

She'd tried to bring up the topic of her finding a way to support the family and get him out of the mine's foul air once and for all but he wouldn't speak of it. Here in Twelve, the only place where there was work was in the mines and Dom would rather die than he let her into that hell. And even if she went anyway, they wouldn't have her. Not a scrawny woman with no experience.

The terrible truth was they needed Dom where he was. To keep Haymitch and Amadeus clothed and fed. To keep their family running.

And then one morning the thing happened that couldn't be allowed to happen.

Grandpa Harold, who had stood by his machine at the woodshop ever since he turned 14, suddenly sank to his knees. It happened without a sound, not any sound that could be heard over the loud machines and if it hadn't been for his co-worker who turned to blow his nose in that exact moment and could pull the old man away, his arm would have been cut clean off.

It was a stroke.

Haymitch hoped against hope that if his grandfather just got to rest he'd get better. Get some of his strength back.

But Harold would never be the same again.

He moved in with them. Dom carried him into their bed that would be his last station in life and Helena tended to his every need.

Haymitch and Dom helped as best as they could but grandpa would almost never let anyone near but Helena and when they still tried, it hindered more than it helped. He couldn't move the left side of his body, couldn't do anything by himself. Not eat, not go to the bathroom. Sometimes he started to scream for no reason and hours could pass when he called out Violet's name over and over even though his wife had been dead for years.

Amadeus was terrified of him and Dom had to sign up for more work to feed their family of five.

Only he wasn't getting it.

Coal mining was a daywork business. The workers were hired on a daily basis and paid thereafter. If you couldn't keep up there were ten people ready to take your place.

And Domeric Abernathy, who was as strong as an ox, whom had worked the mines for 22 years; whose father and grandfather and great grandfather had all mined coal for as long as anyone could remember – found himself being sent home in the morning.

They sold grandma's old sewing stool. They sold everything that could be sold. Ma cared for grandpa in the day and sew during the night, working as fast as her eyes allowed. Pa went to the mines every day and every day – nothing.

"Come back when you can draw a proper breath," the manager said.

And slowly but surely the family began to starve.

Amadeus would sob, curled up in their kitchen sofa with Haymitch's arms around him.

"Try and sleep, you'll feel better," Haymitch mumbled.

"Can I get somethin' to eat? Promise I'll be good. Promise."

"I'll tell you about the prince and the dragon. You want to hear about the prince and the dragon?" he asked, caressing his hair. But Amadeus sobbed and clutched his stomach. A pain no story in the world could make go away.

Finally he fell into a restless sleep. Exhausted from crying.

Haymitch didn't. All night long he lay there, listing to the whimpers his little brother made in his sleep.

And before dawn, when even ma slept cramped together with pa on the old mattress on the floor, he got up.

Harold lay there, gasping like a fish out of water, his limp and helpless hands on top of the covers. Those once so strong hands that had helped build the twelve houses of the Victor's Village.

Haymitch looked into his pale eyes, listened to his jagged breaths and for a moment he wished he would die. Just die. And then maybe it'd be easier for the rest of the family. Easier for Amadeus.

But the moment he thought it he loathed himself for wishing something like that on his grandfather. He took the glass of water from the nightstand and helped Harold to drink a few sips. He saw his lips move, as if trying to say something and Haymitch leaned in, his ear close to his mouth. The words were a mere whisper but he heard them still.

"Stay alive."

Haymitch looked back at him. Maybe he was just imagining that he saw something in his eyes, like a flicker of the old man who used to teach him his craft so that one day he wouldn't have to succumb to the mines.

"Stay alive." His grandfather nodded as if needing confirmation; needed Haymitch to understand.

"Yes, grandpa," he said and Harold's head fell back against the pillow.

It was that simple, wasn't it? A simple choice.

And when school was over that same day Haymitch went straight into town.

With or without his grandfather's lessons, he was still only eleven. The master craftsman wouldn't have him.

Instead Haymitch went from door to door to the few well-to-do they had in Twelve, asking for work.

Most of them wanted him out of their hair but you couldn't get rid of him until you gave him at least something to do and he was cheap. He got a feeling many of them just took pity on him. But Haymitch painted fences, he mowed lawns, weeded vegetable gardens, mended Undersee's rabbit hutches. He washed windows, run errands, pruned rose bushes.

It didn't give much. But little by little, coin by coin, he helped keeping him family afloat.

Playing the piano wasn't to think of. He hadn't been at Madam's in… he didn't know how long. Ages.

But then one winter afternoon when he was on his way home he saw her ahead of him on the snow packed road. She carried a bag of groceries. She must have heard him because she turned her head. Their eyes met and the moment after, the bag slid out of her hands spilling its content on the ground.

Looking back on it later he wondered if she'd dropped the bag on purpose but as it were now he just hurried his steps to help.

"Thanks boy," she muttered as he put the food back in the bag. She didn't do any attempt to take it when he tried to hand it to her though, just walked on and Haymitch followed.

"I haven't seen you around much," she said once they'd reached her house and she was coaxing the few coals into a flame.

"I have to take care of my family," Haymitch said.

"Hm," Madam just muttered as usual. She sat down on the bed while Haymitch put away the groceries for her.

"I can't come here no more," he said when he was done. "I'm grateful but I need to help put food on the table and I can't do that if I'm here playing the piano… you know."

"So you're doing odd jobs in town?" she asked. "Gardening, cleaning…"

"Yes," Haymitch said, warily as if waiting to be judged.

Madam rubbed her palms over her swollen knuckles, her bony fingers.

"These hands," she muttered. "They aren't what they once were. They're aching most of the time."

"I'm sorry," Haymitch mumbled.

Without a word she got up and walked over to the bureau. Haymitch frowned as he heard the chinking of coins. She turned to him again.

"I will pay you these if you clean up the house, thorougly", she said. "Does that seem fair?"

Haymitch was dumbfounded for a moment.

"You sure?" he finally asked. "I mean…"

"Of course I'm sure, boy." She put the coins in his hand and closed his fingers around them. "Otherwise I wouldn't have said it. Now, get going."

So that's what he did. He swept the whole cabin. Warmed water for the dishes and scrubbed the floorboards until they shone in a whole different color. He washed the cabinets inside and out and the windows that had not been clean in years.

While he worked, Madam lay on the bed, her crooked hands folded over her stomach. It seemed like she was sleeping. But when Haymitch had wiped off the sink she opened one eye and looked at him. She glanced around the house.

"My," she said. "That's a job well done."

Haymitch was beat but he couldn't hide how proud he was.

Madam looked to the clock.

"There's fourteen minutes left", she said. "Play me a song, child."

Haymitch's eyebrows shot to his forehead.

"What?"

"I'm paying you by the hour. So if you don't want me to dock your pay you'll play me a song."

The muscles around her eye twitched. It wasn't quite a wink but Haymitch's face broke out into a huge smile.

It wasn't until he began to play that he realized how much he had missed it. His fingers moved over the ivories and it was like all fatigue and every troubled thought just vanished. The smile never left his lips and he was happy, truly happy for the first time in a long while.

It was near pitch dark when he walked home. The cold bit his skin but Madam's coins chinking in his pocket made it an easy walk and he hardly even noticed how tired he was.

The Seam was crawling with coal miners and he made sure to not go in their way. He was just about to slip inside the warmth of his own house when he heard a voice.

A voice he recognized. He turned his head and all his happiness went away.

His father had just said goodnight to Glenn and now he saw Haymitch too.

Haymitch stared at his father back in his old miner's clothes, his hands and face all black with coal dust.

Dom saw his expression and walked over to him.

"I do this for you and your brother," he said. "For your mother and grandpa Harold. The new manager, he doesn't know…"

But before he could say another word Haymitch flew at him. He didn't know what he did. He just hit him and he didn't care that it was his father, he screamed the most vile things at him and hit his fists everywhere he could.

Dom caught his wrists and Haymitch fought to get free, to keep hitting him.

"What kind of man am I if I can't take care of my own family!"

"You're gonna kill yourself!" Haymitch cried. "I can make it work! And soon I'll be twelve and can sign up for tesserae and…"

"You're not!" Dom thundered. "I'm your father and I forbid it!"

"I hate you, I hate you!" Haymitch wrestled himself free and ran. Dom called after him but he didn't stop. He didn't even know where he was going. Just away from him. Away from everything.

Tears blurred his vision and it wasn't until he slipped on the ice and fell over that he finally stopped.

He lay on the ground, panting. He choked back a sob and rubbed his tears before they'd get the chance to fall.

I'll just lie here, he thought. The peacekeepers can come and take me. Who cares.

It wasn't until he heard a dog bark that he finally looked up. He was on the Meadow and a small ruffled dog ran up to him. It barked, jumped backwards and barked again.

"Here boy!" a voice called and the dog dashed away again. Haymitch followed him with his eyes and saw a dark haired girl stand just at the edge of the Meadow with the Seam at her back.

He got to his feet. Brushed the snow from his knees. He knew who she was even if he'd never spoken to her, had seen her often enough in the dining hall at school.

Gwen's and Pissin' Joe's daughter.

Tara.

She was from the Seam just like him, a year older and with the the longest eyelashes he'd ever seen. She peered at him, watchfully curious. Her dog barked at her feet. It was a tiny, unusually ugly muck. But all Haymitch really noticed was the book the girl kept to her chest.

"That's mine!" he gasped out. "That's my book!"

The girl's brow crinkled.

"It's my mother's and mine."

"It's mine!" Haymitch said and his voice rose in anger.

Tara pressed the book closer to her chest and she turned on her heel and walked off, back into the Seam.

"I was gonna buy it," Haymitch said heatedly and he had to run to keep up with her. The small dog jumped at their feet and barked. "For my kid brother!"

"I bought it. Go away!" Tara said and Haymitch's cheeks flushed redder than they already were.

"I'll pay you! Alright! I'll pay you anythin' you want."

"You don't have any money!" Tara said. "And it was my great grandmother's book. We had to sell it years ago. Go away!"

"Tara!" Haymitch called but then they'd reached her house and she closed the door in his face. Haymitch knocked hard, only to hear her turn the key. Furiously he kicked a big snow heap, making a cloud of ice crystals. He jammed his hands in his pockets and walked off. Home. Where else could he go.

"I thought you'd never come home to me no more," Amadeus whispered when they lay in their kitchen sofa. The boy rested his head against his big brother's arm like so many nights before and Haymitch squeezed his shoulder.

"I'll never do that again, I promise," he mumbled. "K?"

"OK."

Amadeus fell asleep long before Haymitch did. He lay there and stared out into the darkness. When the door to their parents' bedroom creaked opened he knew who it was without looking.

"Haymitch?" Dom mumbled. He hadn't come to say goodnight to them that night but here he was. "Haymitch, you awake?" Haymitch heard his short, raspy breaths and the anger shot up inside him again. It was like a hard, ice cold clump in his chest and he didn't move, just pretended he was asleep.

His father stood there, for a long moment he stood there watching his oldest boy.

And then he turned back to his own room and closed the door.

Chapter Text

Things would never be the same between Haymitch and his father after that. Pa, who used to be his best friend. His superhero. With each passing week, with every fight they had, they were becoming more and more like strangers. Dom only got work one day out of seven on a good week but they scraped by and nothing Haymitch or Helena said could keep Dom from going to the mines.

And Haymitch loathed him for it. Loathed that his father would rather shut his eyes to the truth about his health than let people help him.

He’d never forgive him for that.

Amadeus got frightened when people yelled and after grandpa Harold moved in, he gravitated toward his big brother even more.

Haymitch who still had to work a lot tried to get him more interested in playing with kids his own age. He didn’t think it was good for him sitting alone so much but the boy was shy around people outside the family.

As for Maysilee and Leonore, Haymitch hardly ever saw them anymore. Of course they were still in school together and if they met at the bakery or the grocer’s or the apothecary they always nodded hello. But the close bond they’d shared for all those years, it would never be the same.

He knew his friendship with the Donner twins had been unusual. They would probably never have been friends in the first place if his mother hadn’t become their seamstress. Merchants and Seam workers alike had muttered quite a lot when they saw them playing together but they, Haymitch, Maysilee and Leonore, hadn’t even been aware of the fact they were supposed to be different.

Now their friendship was slowly dissolving like friendships sometimes do and he saw them spending more and more time with Theresa when she wasn’t helping her parents at the apothecary shop.

Ever since he shouldered the responsibility of feeding his family it was like the differences between their lives were pulling them further and further apart, whether they wanted to or not.

He had to go to work every day after school, he would have to sign up for tesserae as soon as he turned twelve, while they… well, wouldn’t.

He didn’t hold them a grudge. It was just the way it was. But he missed them. Mourned the world they’d shared once when they could tell each other everything.

Not that he had a lot of time to ponder over this. He worked most all day off school and on Saturdays. What little free time he had left he wanted to spend with his family.

And Tara.

After their first meeting on the Meadow Haymitch had kept seeking her out in the school yard, followed her home and had even come knocking on her door at weekends – using everything in his arsenal to try and make her change her mind about the book.

But Tara was hard as a stone.

“It’s the only nice thing we’ve got,” she said.

It took a while, quite a while but when Haymitch finally had to accept he’d never get his hands on the book, it was already too late. He’d already started to like hanging out with her.

Tara had lived alone with her mother ever since her father died when she was still a baby.  Pissin’ Joe had been a known informer and one of the most hated men in Twelve. People called him Pissin’ Joe because it was said that after he got on bad terms with his best friend, he went pissing on his grave after he died. Whether that was true or not, Tara’s father made a lot of enemies in the district and ended up being killed by an angry mob. No one was even sure who actually killed him but four men were hanged on the square because of it. So just as much as people admired the Abernathys they looked down on Tara’s family.

But she was cool. She and her mother both.

Haymitch and Amadeus joined up with her every morning before school. She was tons of fun and could swear like a sailor, up to the point even Haymitch blinked and had to say stop. She was a great story teller too, claiming all of her insane tales of the world was the God’s honest truth. A joke of course but Amadeus, only seven, listened with round eyes and believed every word.

He adored Tara and often came with when Haymitch visited. Tara liked his house better though. Her mother worked the mines often from dawn to dusk so their place was almost always empty while the Abernathy’s kitchen was the heart of the house where everyone gathered. Ma by her sewing machine, pa with Amadeus on his lap, playing tic-tack-toe. Grandpa Harold in the armchair close to the fire and Tara and Haymitch on the floor, throwing a ball so Gus, the dog, could run after it.

Haymitch loved those days. Food was still scarce leaving everybody in the house with a gnawing feeling in the stomach but being together all of them and with no fights, you could almost forget the misery so very present in your life and the Hunger Games drawing nearer.

But then one day, shortly after the last snowstorm in March, Haymitch woke hearing his father’s hushed voice, saying,

”I might be late so you just start without me, Len.”

Haymitch immediately pulled himself up, only to see Dom dressed in his miner’s clothes.

“Where’re you going?” he asked loudly, not wanting his father to think he could sneak out unnoticed. “Today’s Sunday!”

His brother squirmed next to him at the loud sounds.

“They need extra folk, Haymitch,” their father said. Amadeus, awake now, looked worriedly from Haymitch to Dom. “I won’t miss dinner. I’ll just join up with you later.”

“It’s Sunday!” Amadeus covered his ears. “We‘re supposed to be together on Sunday! Or don’t you even care anymore?”

“Haymitch,” Helena warned but Dom just watched his oldest son with sad and exhausted eyes.

“You don’t waste any time making life difficult for me, do you?” he said. He kissed Helena’s cheek in passing and left.

The rest of the family spent a quiet and miserable Sunday. Their first Sunday without Dom.  Haymitch sat with Amadeus, too bitter to even speak. He felt like kicking and screaming and crying like Gertie Thornley when he thought about his father and how he’d looked at Haymitch like he was the biggest disappointment in his life.

When dinner came, the two boys set the table. Helena served up food on their plates and then helped grandpa Harold to eat, spoonful by spoonful. No one felt like talking. And when it was time for the dishes their father still hadn’t come home.

“He loves you,” ma said, trying to lift her sons’ spirits. She dabbed Grandpa Harold’s mouth with a napkin. “That’s why he’s doing this.”

Right after she’d said it they heard sounds from outside, like boots against slush. The next moment Tara’s mother barged through the door, in her miner’s clothes and covered in black.

“Helena!” Gwen panted, looking from her face to the two boys and back in anguish. “The mines… Dom.”

“What’s wrong with pa!?” Haymitch had sprung to his feet. Amadeus clung to him.

Helena had already gotten her coat, pale as a ghost.

“Please, stay with the boys.”

And she was gone.

“No, I’m coming too!” Haymitch said when Gwen tried to stop him. Amadeus clung to his arm, crying and wailing.

He hammered Gwen with questions but she didn’t give him any straight answers. Amadeus was going into hysterics. Finally Haymitch sat him down on his lap, rocking him. His face was ashen. When the handle creaked his eyes darted to the door but it was just Tara and Gus.

“I don’t know,” she said before he could even ask. “But they say… they say your father collapsed.”

An hour passed. Two. Tara and Amadeus sat cross-legged on the floor with Gus in the little boy’s arms. Gwen eventually made up their beds for the night but while Amadeus fell into a restless sleep whimpering under the blankets Haymitch couldn’t be still. Most of the time he was by the window, watching and waiting for his mother and father to come home.

When Helena finally did step over the threshold she was gaunt, beaten down, like she’d aged 10 years in the past few hours.

And she came alone.

xXx

Amadeus couldn’t understand that his father was gone. Pa, the biggest and strongest of them all, nothing could beat him. Nothing. The seven year old followed Haymitch around asking questions he didn’t know how to answer.

“Why did he die, Haymitch? How could he die?”

Amadeus wouldn’t know what a right-sided heart failure was and even if Haymitch had managed to explain that it was the years and years of breathing in coal dust that had ended their father’s life he couldn’t bear to even speak of it. Ma couldn’t either. They were alike in that respect. They pushed down the things that hurt too much and carried on like everything was normal.

Too hollow to even cry Haymitch threw himself into work with a vengeance, even more determined to provide for the family, hoping school and hard labor would make him too exhausted to think about pa.

He didn’t see Madam until it was time to harvest dandelions. Something that used to lift his spirits tremendously, knowing he’d get to add dandelion salad to his family’s dinner after he and Madam had chopped off the blossoms for the wine.

It wasn’t the first time he’d helped her make alcohol. The smell made him crinkle his nose but ever since she stopped being a teacher it had been her small escape from starvation – making those bottles from dandelions and potatoes and oak leaves too now that she had someone like him who could scale up those trees on the Meadow.

Their fingers and palms were stained with dandelion sap as they cut the blooms off its stems. Madam rubbed her brow with the back of her hand and looked down at the young boy by her side.

“It’s under control,” she muttered. “Go play me a song, boy.”

Haymitch’s brow crinkled. He didn’t look up from his work.

“I don’t wanna play.”

The water was boiling and Madam went to lift it from the heat.

”Was my father who taught me this recipe,” she said. “It’s been in our family for almost 200 years.”

Haymitch pressed his lips together and stared intently at the knife as it cut through the plants. He didn’t want to hear about Madam’s father or her family.

“The fights we could have”, she continued in the same calm, rough voice. ”We were just as bad tempered. Both of us. But it didn’t matter. We knew where we had each other. He knew I loved him and I knew he’d always love me no matter what I said or did.”

Haymitch clutched his fist around the knife so he wouldn’t humiliate himself by crying.

“Why don’t you just go play me a song.”

“I don’t wanna play!” He whipped around, throwing his knife far in a corner. “I’m never gonna play! Not ever again!”

He stood there breathing heavily and waited for the scolding, wanted it even. Madam watched him quietly.

“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done, child,” she said. “His lungs were already too damaged.”

“Yeah! I should’ve just pressed a pillow over his head like you did and be done with it!”

And with that he ran and slammed the door shut.

Madam stood where he’d left her. No one looking through the window could have guessed what she was thinking in that moment. She only picked up the knife that’d left a gash in the wood and returned her attention to the dandelions.

It was all dark when she went out but Madam knew her way around the district as well as her own house. There were still a few lights on in the Seam but otherwise only the burn barrels for the peacekeepers on patrol lit her way to the boy’s house.

She kept herself in the shadows. The boy and his baby brother was getting ready for bed. And Helena, she was working. The lamp light reflected itself in Madam’s gray eyes as she watched the young woman. Sweet Helena. If she had lifted her gaze from the sewing machine she might have seen her there even in her dark shawls that made her almost one with the night.

But she didn’t.

And Madam left the basket of dandelions on the front step, along with the coins at the bottom. When Haymitch answered her knock she’d already disappeared.

xXx

That year’s Hunger Games were one of the longest in history.

And Haymitch turned twelve.

Tara came with him when he went to the Justice Building and they carried his year’s supply of grain and oil back together.

They swung by her house first though. He hadn’t told ma about the tesserae and even though he knew she knew as well as he did that they didn’t have any choice he just couldn’t face her right now or Amadeus.

When he was younger he’d thought he’d be scared out of his wits, the day his name was put in the reaping bowl. That he’d only feel safe before then. Of course now he knew you were never really safe and with the loss of pa and his fight with Madam weighing down his conscience… it was like he couldn’t muster up enough energy to care.

But if he could pretend for Helena and Amadeus and the rest of the world he couldn’t hide it from Tara.

So when they sat there by the fire with Gus in a panting heap on the rug Haymitch told her. About Madam, about the secret piano lessons, about pa, about everything.

Tara listened in silence. She didn’t interrupt once. And it was the thing about her. Just another aspect where they were alike. She could comfort you just by being there. Because she understood, because she was his best friend and didn’t come with a bunch of platitudes like “You’re going to be alright” or “Things will get better soon.”

But she did say one thing,

“You should go tell Madam you’re sorry.”

xXx

It felt like years since he’d been over at her place. He dreaded what he was about to do but Tara walked by his side. It helped that she was there.

Without knocking, it’d never been their custom, he pushed inside and the first thing he saw was the broken plate in a pool of soapy water.

“Well, it’s about time.” Madam sat slumped down on a stool. There was a hint of a smile on her lips but the words seemed to cause her difficulty, her round shoulders rising and falling in ragged breaths.

Haymitch was by her side in a heartbeat.

“What’s the matter? What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Madam waved his words away. “Plate just slipped out of my hands. Nothing to worry about. Could you just…”

He helped her up and to the bed.

“You want me to get someone? Someone from the apothecary…”

“No need to fuss with me, child,” she said. “I’m a big girl.”

He pulled a chair to the bed and sat down, took the blanket from the foot of the bed and tucked her in. He watched her with concern but she was already starting to breathe more like normal.

“What I said…” he began.

“It doesn’t matter, boy.” She opened her hand and he took it. It was the first time he’d ever held her hand. Her fingers were crooked and gnarled but he felt the strength in them, still.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she said. “I know what it’s like when you want to help someone and you can’t.”

And the tears that had always been there, like a clump in his stomach, welled up in Haymitch’s eyes. Madam didn’t say anything but she didn’t let go of his hand.

“You’re a good boy,” she mumbled. “Don’t become like me.”

Tara had kept to the background, picking up the broken glass. Now she walked up to Haymitch. At his side, always.

“This is Tara.”

“The one with the little dog,” said Madam.

Tara nodded. Haymitch rubbed his eyes with his hand.

“I’ll stay here tonight.”

“No need. Go home and be with your family. When you come back here on Friday we’ll play four-hands together.”

They stayed long enough to take care of the dishes though. Haymitch washed and Tara dried them. All the while, Madam lay on the bed with her eyes closed. It looked like she was sleeping. But when Haymitch and Tara was about to leave she drew a ragged breath.

“Haymitch!”

He turned, surprised by the rare use of his name.

The fatigue was pulling her under but she fought it.

“When you see your mother,” she said. “Tell her… thank you. Tell her I’m sorry.”

xXx

Haymitch knew Helena loved him and his brother; that she’d do anything to keep them safe. But he could count on one hand the number of times she’d hugged him.

Helena had always been a very calm and collected person, much like grandpa Harold. Dom had been the emotional one in their family. The one who laughed and teared up easily and who never failed to hug and kiss his sons every chance he got. Perhaps because he knew he’d have to make up for the fact their mother wasn’t a cuddly person.

But when Haymitch walked up to her that evening and repeated Madam’s words, he saw something on her face. Like when a stone hit the surface of a pond it rippled through her normally so composed features. And the next moment she’d pulled him into a hug.

Haymitch was too shocked to even hug back. So unused to having his mother’s arms around him he just stood there, rigid and stiff.

The hug didn’t last very long and he watched as she returned to the stove as if nothing had happened.

“You knew Madam, didn’t you?” he asked quietly.

The fabric stretched over her back as she stirred the pot. Finally when he thought she wasn’t going to answer she said,

“Constance, Haymitch. That’s her name.”

Haymitch wouldn’t play four-hands with his piano teacher again. Not that Friday or any other day. Not long after his last visit, Madam, Constance, passed away in her sleep.

They buried her in the woodland cemetery where her granddaughter rested.

Haymitch couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she was gone. It didn’t feel real that if he walked into Madam’s house she would not be there, asking him to play her a song.

Someone needed to clear out her things. Every house in District 12, however ramshackle, belonged to the Capitol. Within two days the relatives had to empty it so the Head Peacekeeper could assign it to the next married couple or else all the belongings were fair game for lower ranked peacekeepers to rummage through before they burned the rest, leaving the place robbed and violated.

Of course, Madam had no living family members. Haymitch had wanted to do it. He hated the thought of someone else looking through her stuff; someone who hadn’t known her.

But on the day, he was told to stay home with grandpa Harold and Amadeus while ma cleared out Madam’s house with the help of Greasy Sae. Later he heard that most of it, along with the old piano, was donated to the community home.

While his mother was away Haymitch sat at the kitchen table playing tick-tack-toe with his brother but his mind wasn’t there.

And woven together with his loss was something else. Madam’s last words that wouldn’t leave him any rest. Tell her thank you. Tell her I’m sorry. What’d she mean by that?

Ma wouldn’t tell and w ith each day his unease only grew.

Until one day when Helena sent him to the Undersee’s with Ollie’s new shirt and trousers but Haymitch headed straight for Greasy Sae’s house before anything else.

The woman sat on her front step, plucking a chicken. With each yank, a cloud of feathers snowed at her feet. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and that’s when she saw him.

“Haymitch. Hi.”

“How’d Madam know my mother?” Haymitch blurted. “Something happened, didn’t it? Before. You know, don’t you? You know everything.”

Her movements slowed. She gave him such a queer look.

“She won’t tell me, but I have to know! Please, Sae!”

“Haymitch…”

“Did she do something to my mother?”

Sae watched the twelve year old standing before her, the desperation in his eyes.

She drew a breath, deep as a sigh.

“Come.”

She took him to the Meadow, where they had a seat under Haymitch and the twins’ old oak tree, shoulder to shoulder.

“Just so you know, Haymitch,” Sae said, “I don’t know all of this firsthand. Some of it I’ve heard from others, or just guessed.”

Haymitch watched her intently, waiting for her to continue. Sae looked at him and there was a sadness in her eyes. Finally she said,

“You know she had a granddaughter, right?”

Haymitch nodded. Of course. How could he not? It was all before he was born but everyone knew about the girl.

Sophie.

District 12’s victor.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

A rain of tears

Part six

You didn’t talk about it so Cray heard but everyone knew he was Sophie’s father.

It wouldn’t be the last time he got someone pregnant and Greasy Sae always offered them tea with pennyroyal when they came to her. But Neoma. Perhaps the girl felt she couldn’t after losing first her parents and then her two younger brothers in such a short span of time.

She had her baby, little Sophie Aurora Juliana. The Undersees who heard her story, soon hired the young mother as a maid and for a time it seemed like things would somehow work out for them. As well as could be expected.

But then one night, only six months later, Ms. Constance heard strange noises from the cemetery behind her house. It was already dark, well past curfew, but she got out a candle and went to check anyway.

And found Sophie. The crying child lay wrapped in blankets, left by one of the gray stones where her grandparents rested.

Poor Neoma had hung herself, dangling from a branch in the old hanging tree.

Mr. and Ms. Forrester came at dawn, as soon as they heard. They were brother and sister and almost never left the community home except for when an orphaned child was to be collected.

You sometimes saw them on the way to the Justice Building when there was a medal ceremony or the president’s birthday, followed by a trail of hunched defeated, bruised children.

There were stories and if half of them were true it wasn’t surprising Madam ended up doing what she did.

At least not to Haymitch.

Because of Neoma people talked about Sophie as Madam’s grandchild rather than the adoptive daughter that she really was and from then on it was the two of them against the world, fighting every battle together.

Until she was reaped.

A victor from District 12 was all but unheard of  and that little Sophie would make it back? No one believed it. Not the Capitol, not the sponsors, not the people of Twelve.

The brand new TV host Caesar Flickerman even joked and said, when Sophie made it to the final 8, that her (not exactly photogenic mother) had performed some kind of witchcraft on her before she left for the Capitol.

“And even if she won’t turn out victorious, he added, “the girl with the uncanny luck surely make for good television.”

But she did win. She got to come home and the Capitol viewers were all swooning over how pretty and sweet and clean she was. And they were fascinatedly disgusted by her beast of a mother whom they already knew from different televised events when it was mandatory she played with her choir at school.

They even made a program about her after Sophie’s victory, where four grim-looking doctors diagnosed Constance with acromegaly disorder. Something they were actually right about, if nothing else.

By that time Cray had been second in command for over a year, with his mind set on becoming Head Peacekeeper when the Iron Maiden retired.

He hadn’t cared if Sophie lived or died up until that point. No more than he would a cockroach, as long as it stayed under its rock. But after she won and her face was plastered all over the country she was fast becoming a thorn in his flesh.

The Seam girl with brown eyes, who looked more and more like him with each day.

If it was proved he had a child he’d lose his position. He would go back to being a mere “foot soldier” and be forever disqualified from the Head post he so desired.

Cray didn’t care about much in this world but he cared about this. He needed her to go away.

But she was their precious victor, someone the Capitol adored and the Iron Maiden was still Head Peacekeeper.

So Cray brooded in silence. Watching. Waiting. 

Back at the Victor’s Village the last film crew had packed up and left and Constance was trying to get Sophie’s life back to something that resembled normal.

On the screens Sophie was the perfect victor. What happened behind closed doors no one was aware of, least of all the Capitol.

It happened slowly. Small signs you wouldn’t pay much attention to at first, not from someone just home from the Games. A slightly faster voice, an odd comment, laughter where there were no reason for laughter.

But when September turned into October it got clear to the people of Twelve there was something wrong with Sophie.

She started to cause scenes, saying things. Dangerous things about the Games, about the Capitol, about President Snow. It begun one day in the market and it ended with her catastrophe of a Victory Tour.

And Cray saw the chance he’d been hoping for.

Her reason faded like morning mist. You didn’t really notice it until it was already gone and after her Tour Constance kept the girl away from the public as much as possible, using sleep syrup to try and stem the psychosis.

Then the president’s birthday came around and like every other year the school choirs assembled in the auditorium all around the country to sing live in Snow’s honor. As music teacher Constance were expected to play the piano but she didn’t show up.

She’d neglected her job ever since Sophie got sick and you could cut through the anger and frustration among the authorities as the minutes ticked closer to the hour when they were supposed to air.

The children of the choir glanced at each other, one of the camera men cracked his neck, the audience didn’t dare to utter a word but the headmaster was whispering more and more hurriedly with the Iron Maiden while the sweat on his forehead shone in the strong lights.

And then when it was less than five minutes left, a girl in the audience stood up from her seat.

Without looking right or left, least of all back at her father the 17 year old walked up to the Iron Maiden. She spoke in soft whispers. The head master looked bewildered but the Iron Maiden soon gave a curt nod and gestured for the girl to enter the stage.

And when the celebrations started it was Helena who played the piano for District 12. Her music filled the auditorium until you thought the roof might lift. Her face was on every television screen in Twelve and all across Panem together with the clips from other districts and the Capitol parties and speeches.

Afterwards Helena tried to get back to her seat but was surrounded by cameras and reporters asking her a million questions. What’s your name? How old are you? Who taught you how to play? Will you play again?

She answered evasively, wanting nothing more than go back to her seat, despite her father standing there, pale with anger.

Later that evening the neigbors heard them quarreling. The windows were shut but their voices could be heard all the same. Helena who never disobeyed her father, who never talked back to him.

And he was hitting her and she ran out of the house.

Gone in the night she’d found Sophie.

What had happened? Had she woken up despite the sleep syrup? Had Constance drifted off during the worst of times after tending to the girl day and night? Whatever the reason Sophie was out, confused and alone in the dark and cold and Helena tried to get her home. Constance and she both, for the big woman soon came and together they tried to get the girl back to the Victor’s Village unseen. Cray was only waiting for an excuse to take Sophie into custody.

The district swam with peacekeepers going their rounds. Two of them nearby. They aimed a flashlight in their direction when they heard the screams but before they could spot Constance with Sophie, Helena sprang forward – and let herself be taken.

Her sacrifice bought Sophie a few more weeks. Cray had made sure to file reports against her ever since the beginning of her strange behavior. Who knew what was true and what was exaggerated? In the end and with her Victory Tour in fresh memory, authorities saw fit to send a party.

They came to take her away, lock her up in one of their dungeons. For her own safety and others. Or so they said. And if, whilst on the inside, a situation might arise where they had to gun her down, well ... tragedies happen.

But Constance, who knew they were coming, was already a step ahead of them. When they pushed inside the house with Cray at the head of the group it was already over.

“She’d put Sophie to sleep,” Greasy Sae finished her story. “So they couldn’t hurt her anymore.”

xXx 

The fall following Haymitch’s 13th birthday Grandpa Harold caught pneumonia.

Helena had always had a hard time letting anyone else help her care for Harold so Haymitch looked after Amadeus and they both did chores around the house while ma did what she could for their grandfather.

Despite their complicated relationship you could see how much Helena cared for the old man in each and every one of her movements.

Everyone knew what a hard father he’d been. Growing up in the community home he’d thought the best way to raise children was with your fists. But she loved him. And in his own way he must have loved her. He’d let her learn how to play the piano. Worked extra hours at the woodshop so he could pay for her lessons with Madam up at the school.  He wouldn’t take any charity.

That’s where they’d become friends? Haymitch wondered. Madam and Helena.  During those lessons? And Sophie, perhaps the girl had wound up joining them one day when she came to walk her mother home.

Helena had played in Madam’s stead in the auditorium so the peacekeepers wouldn’t go to the Victor’s Village; to keep Sophie out of more trouble than she was already in. She probably never anticipated what a scene her performance would cause.

But Harold knew.

You didn’t want the Capitol to notice you and put your child’s face and name on the big screens. Games had been rigged before so to have the Capitol love you was almost as dangerous as to be hated by them.

In his own brutal way Harold had tried to protect his still only 17 year old daughter and the children she might have in the future.

Was that what the fight had been about?  Had she told him she wanted to become a music teacher? If she had, that dream died the moment she got arrested. Someone with a record would never be considered when they hired new teachers.

So she’d remained a seamstress like her mother and married Domeric Abernathy only days after she turned 18. Dom, who was a calm, gentle and open-hearted man, very much the opposite of Harold. Ma didn’t say so but Haymitch suspected that part-reason why she’d married him was to get some distance from her own father. As a seamstress she’d have a difficult time earning a living by herself.

And Madam never forgot what Helena did for her family and how she got hurt doing it.

How many time hadn’t he wondered why Madam took him under her wings - a boy she didn’t even know. He’d thought perhaps it was out of respect for his father, for saving the two boys when the orphanage burned.  Dom wasn’t much more than a boy himself then but no one had ever forgotten it, least of all Harold.

But all along it’d been about ma. Madam must have seen Helena in him when Haymitch came begging her to teach him how to play the piano. And when they were starving she hired him to do tasks around the house that she could easily have done herself, to pay off a debt she felt she owed.

To help Helena’s family like Helena had tried to help Sophie.

xXx

Despite his daughter’s tender care, Harold didn’t live to see the snow stick.

They burried him in the cemetery dressed in the suit he’d married his beloved Violet in. Now he’d rest at her side forever.

Haymitch watched as his grandfather’s coffin was lowered into the earth. He held his brother’s hand in his and the wind ruffled their hair and the naked trees around them.

These woods had been kept inside the fence solely for the sake of the graveyard and the marks on the resting places all differed depending on what their loved ones could afford. There were the few tombstones with words on them and the iron crosses but mostly just regular gray stones picked from the Meadow or wherever you could find one and flowers, many of them, dug up and re-planted.

Words were spoken over Harold but Haymitch barely heard it. His gaze wandered to the wide clearing further in, separated from all the rest.

He couldn’t even see where Sophie’s grave was but those rows upon rows of white tombstones, glittering and smooth and stamped with the Capitol’s seal, filled him with such despair and hopelessness he couldn’t move when ma and Sae and the others were leaving, walking back into the district over the frost covered ground.

“Come Haymitch,” Amadeus tugged at his hand.

Did his mother feel the same way, after what happened to Sophie? Had she told Harold they had to help her? And did he? Or did he just say it was already too late?

Their victor, who survived the arena but died anyway.

Because nobody ever won the Games. Not really. There were survivors. There were no winners.

“Come Haymitch.  Let’s go home. Let’s go home now.”

The hour grew late but ma didn’t usher them to bed that night. They sat at the table together. The scarce lamp light illuminated their faces while Ma mended a pair of socks and Haymitch helped Amadeus with his reading like most nights.

Haymitch had always had it easy in school.  Everyone always said he was a smart kid. Ma and pa, grandpa Harold, even Mr. Branch. He’d been the first in his class to learn how to read. He didn’t ponder much over if he was smart or not. He just remembered stuff easily. Could figure things out without much effort.

It was cruel that Amadeus had such struggles with the words when he was the one who loved stories and Haymitch had taken it upon himself to walk the 8 year old through his ABC’s, meticulously and patiently and always there to comfort him when Amadeus wept over the letters that played such havoc in his mind.

Haymitch liked facts. He’d made up stories for his brother because he could but the books he read were the ones that could teach him something about the immediate world around him. Like which plants to eat or remedies to use when you got sick.

He’d come to enjoy poetry to some extent but Amadeus was the true book lover in their family. Back w hen Haymitch read to him at the Henderson’s, Amadeus always talked about how he wanted to become a writer when he grew up. And Haymitch, who could never crush his little brother’s hopes and dreams, let him believe that he could.

In secret he hoped Amadeus would get an apprenticeship at the bookshop when he got older. The Hendersons had no children of their own and they were very fond of Amadeus and his pure and passionate love for the written word.

It was a straw to grasp at and if it didn’t work out he’d find another way. Because Amadeus would not work in the mines, not a long as Haymitch was here drawing breath and if he couldn’t help his brother crack the reading code that’s where he’d undoubtedly end up.

So Haymitch couldn’t let himself fall into despair. Not when he had Amadeus to think about. Amadeus and ma and Tara. They were his family. The ones left.

The two brothers lay awake long after ma had turned the lights off that night.  Amadeus had his head on Haymitch’s arm as usual.

“Haymitch?” he mumbled.

”Mm.”

“When am I gonna die?”

Haymitch’s hand tightened around his shoulder.

 “You’re not gonna die,” he said firmly.

“Everyone does.”

“Not for a long long time”, Haymitch said.  “You’ll be an old man with white hair and a mustache like grandpa.”

“No one know’s when they’re gonna die.”

“I do,” Haymitch said.  “And I’m always right, yeah? Anything gettin’ to you have to get passed me first.”

Amadeus smiled a little and Haymitch felt the cold tip of his nose against his neck.

”Love you,” the boy mumbled and Haymitch put his other arm around his small frame, like a shield.

”Love you too.”

Outside the wind shook the naked trees. Cold stars, frozen in the sky looked down on the squat, gray houses of the Seam, the shops and stores in town with all the shutters up.

And The Victor’s Village where nobody lived. The twelve empty houses with all the sleeping rose bushes that would soon be covered in a thick layer of snow.

Seasons changed, the Games began and the Games ended but the Victor’s Village of Twelve stayed the same. Empty and waiting.

Until one day. One summer morning when the groundskeeper unlocked one of the houses and made a fire on the hearth. All  the sheets covering the furniture were pulled off, bouquets of roses gathered from the garden and put on the tables.

For t he victor of the second Quarter Quell.

The day of his homecoming the train station was filled with people and cameras documented his every step from when he was reunited with his mother, brother and girlfriend, to him stepping over the threshold to his new home where he would live out his days.  Their handsome 16 year old miner’s son with his dangerous gray eyes and snarky half-smiles.

The many film crews got stationed in some of the other houses in the Victor’s Village and while the days were filled with photo shoots and interviews the nights were an endless feast.

The victor declined their invitation to partake and it wouldn’t do with any dark circles anyway but the rest of them  drank and sang well into the early hours, feasting on extravagant, many colored food shipped in from the Capitol.

Amadeus couldn’t sleep in the bedlam that they caused.

It was the first time the two Abernathy brothers had their own rooms, their own beds but it didn’t take long for Amadeus to pull away his luxurious comforter filled with bird feathers and cross the hallway to Haymitch’s room where he crawled in with him  even though they were big boys now.

Haymitch welcomed it.

Outwardly he played his part in front of the cameras, answered their questions, carried himself through their “A day in the life” documentary.  Snarky, arrogant, indifferent, much like his first interview with Caesar Flickerman.

The nights were a different matter. In the past Haymitch had been the one to comfort Amadeus when he woke, scared and confused.  Now it was the other way around.

The loss of Maysilee, the guilt over his childhood friend’s death kept him up even when the parties outside didn’t. And if he did manage to drift off, his sleep was filled with nightmares of dead children, candy-pink birds and Snow’s eyes, promising retaliation.

It was a relief when the camera crews finally packed up and left and Haymitch spent all his time with his mother and brother and Tara who came to visit every day.

He never walked past school, didn’t want to see the faces of children he might one day have to mentor and he avoided Leonore’s house when he had business into town.

Only once had he seen her since his return. With Ollie Undersee by his rabbit hutches. She’d held one of the baby bunnies close to her cheek. The mirror image of Maysilee with her long blonde hair braided on both sides of her face and adorned with wooden hair beads. Ollie had caressed her back, speaking soft words to her.

Haymitch had wanted to say something too. Something, he wasn’t sure what. That he was sorry? That he wished he’d done more? He used to be able to tell her anything but now all words sounded weak and meaningless in his head.

And he’d just  stood there mutedly, a stranger, until he turned around and walked off before she’d even seen he was there.

And between his guilt and his bad dreams was the fear that he couldn’t truly shake off himself.

The feeling like something bad was going to happen.

“It’s OK,” Amadeus said and hugged him. “We’re gonna be OK.  They’re sendin’ a camera crew to talk about your talent,” he reminded him, like an assurance.

He asked what he was going to show them but Haymitch hadn’t a clue. Didn’t care either. Not playing the piano at least. No way. Maybe wood carving. Confirm the image they had of him.

This new house had a piano, he’d noticed. In the study. A grand piano made of some shiny, reddish brown wood he had no name for.  Not that he ever planned on playing it.

But one day, not long after his return, he found Amadeus sitting in front of it. The eleven year old’s forehead was crinkled in concentration, like always when he tried to read.

“What’s it say there?” he asked and pointed to the sheet music placed on the music rack. “I can’t read it.”

“That’s alright,” said Haymitch.  “It’s all different letters from the ones you’re used to. It’s not like in books. Ordinary books, anyway. But you read ‘em and you know what to play.”

“How? Can you read them? Play something for me.”

A crease appeared between Haymitch’s eyebrows.

“Please!”

”I don’t...” he began but he never got to finish.

“Come now, Haymitch.” They both turned around. Ma stood at the door. “After all those years playing with ms. Constance some of it must have stuck.”

At the sight of Haymitch’s startled expression she gave him one of her rare smiles. “Really boy, did you think you could keep something like that secret from me for so long?”

She walked over to them.

“So, what’s it gonna be?”

“I want you to play,” Haymitch blurted.

“Yeah!”  Amadeus said, hopping where he sat. “Play us the bestest song you know.”

Haymitch watched her, wondering if she’d get angry at him for knowing.

But she only shook her head.

“I haven’t touched a piano in decades.”

“So? Play anyway,” Haymitch said.

“Yeah, ma!”

She came with more protests but they were the weakest ones you’d ever heard and in the end she took a seat on Amadeus’s left side. Haymitch had planned on staying where he stood but Amadeus pulled him to them as well. It was cramped on the music stool and Amadeus climbed up on his brother’s lap, even though he knew he was getting too old for it.

And Helena played for her boys.

Haymitch recognized it from the first tone. It was the “Hope” song. One of their old mountain airs that, for whatever reason, the Capitol allowed them to sing in music assembly.

Playing transformed his mother. Her hands moved over the ivories like they’d done nothing else all her life and the music filled the room, the house, their very souls. Amadeus soon joined in singing the lyrics in his sweet, clear voice while Haymitch was content with just listening. He smiled at his mother and she smiled at him.

This will be her piano, he thought. And she can play it now as much as she wants. Every day.

He leaned his forehead against Amadeus’s hair, his arms wrapped around him as the boy sang.

Maybe it’ll be OK, he thought. Perhaps things will turn out alright after all.

“We ought to get going now,” ma said once she lifted her fingers from the ivories. “Tara and Gwen will be waiting.”

The busy days that followed their moving to the Victor’s Village hadn’t given them time to fetch anything from their old house. As far as the Capitol was concerned there wasn’t anything worth fetching there either.

Not that they’d owned much in the world but there were still some things ma wanted to get. The sewing machine for starters, her mother’s old loom and some of the wooden crafts her father made including the kitchen sofa bed. Amadeus wanted his rock collection first and foremost. Tara and her mother had volunteered to help and then they’d all have dinner up at the Victor’s Village, ma said.

“I gotta take care of something in town first,” Haymitch said.

“Can I come?”

Haymitch gave his little brother a one armed hug.

“Won’t take long. Go be with Tara and Gus. I’ll meet you there.”

xXx

Mr. Henderson nodded hello when the 16 year old pushed inside the bookshop.

“How’re your mother and brother today?”

”They’re alright,” Haymitch said. “Gettin’ some stuff from our old place.”

”And what can I do for you today?”

Haymitch lifted his bag up on to the counter and from its depths he got out the large, old decorated book filled with fairy tales.

“Can I borrow your fountain pen, Mr. Henderson?”

Come back to us, Tara told him during their final goodbye. She hadn’t cried but her face was so pale she seemed almost transparent. Come back to us and I’ll give you Amadeus’s book.

Mr. Henderson handed him the expensive fountain pen along with a piece of paper.

“Better have a few practice rounds first.”

Writing with it wasn’t as easy as Mr. Henderson made it look.  He had the most beautiful hand writing Haymitch had ever seen. How he did it was a mystery because when Haymitch tried, it got uneven and jotted and he stained both the paper and his fingertips with ink. But he wanted to write the dedication himself and after about 30 minutes under Mr. Henderson’s guidance he did at least managed to write without blotting.

And so he opened the book and Mr. Henderson watched as he wrote the words on the cover sheet.

“I’m gonna give it to him after dinner,” Haymitch said and blew gently on the ink to make it dry faster.  “Thanks.”

He wanted to pay the book seller for lending him the pen but the old man just waved it off and after bidding each other good afternoon Haymitch walked out.

And that’s when he heard it. Far off cries, commotion. Somewhere a woman screamed.

”Fire! Fire in the Seam!”

”What is it?  What’s going on?” It was Mr. Henderson’s voice but Haymitch didn’t even hear it. He ran. Ran for the Seam that was an uproar. People running and screaming, pulling buckets of water.

Haymitch pushed himself past his neigbors without care.

“Ma!” Haymitch shouted. “MA! Amadeus! Tara!”

He felt the smoke, saw the flames high on the sky.

”Ma!  Where are you!?”

And he saw. He saw his house.

“No!”  Haymitch cried. His bag burst open on the ground and the book fell out as he ran for the door. The heat from the inferno hit his face like a wall and people grabbed hold on him, pulling him back. “Let go of me!” Haymitch cried, fighting them.

”It’s too late, boy!” someone hissed in his ear.

“Let go of me! They’re in there! They’re still in there!”

And the flames shone off the ornaments on Amadeus’s book as Haymitch screamed.

Chapter Text

All the warmth of the afternoon had gone. Now the moon hid behind stormy clouds while the wind howled and wailed, drowning out all other sounds.

Effie heard it where she lay in Katniss's and Peeta's guestroom. Yes, she was still here. Despite what Johanna had said, despite her own better judgment. She'd come as far as the train station but when it was her turn to board after Annie, Finn and Johanna, she just couldn't.

That hour she'd spent packing she half-hoped Haymitch would come out of his room and make peace. They always made peace eventually. But he never showed. And when she returned he'd locked the door. Haymitch who never locked his door.

Over the years they'd had worse fights than this. They'd screamed vicious things at each other, cruel things. She'd thrown objects his way, though it shamed her to admit it. More than once they'd parted after a Games so bitter at each other they didn't even say goodbye before Haymitch left for District 12.

But one way or the other, easily or not so easily, they always got over it, seeing it for what it was. Because at the end of the day they knew where they had each other.

So why then couldn't she leave now? Or even sleep. Not because they had sex, she told herself. It didn't even bother her too much that he regretted it so. They should never have scratched that itch in the first place.

But she worried for him, like she always worried for Haymitch.

And there was something else too. Something that tugged at her mind, leaving her no rest. Like a half-forgotten memory she had to remember.

When the clock turned 2AM she couldn't take it any longer. She pulled on her morning gown and went straight out into the storm.

"Haymitch!" She had to shout to be heard over the wind that did its very best to blow her over. The door was as locked as ever but Effie pounded on it, worse than Katniss. "Haymitch, please let me in!"

Would she have to smash open a window?

She went to the back garden, shivering with goose bumps all over her bare arms and legs. But she found the old ladder there in the grass and managed to lean it against the short end of the house and the window on the second floor. It was the one that wouldn't shut properly. She'd been at him several times about getting it fixed.

Now it became her way in.

Effie Trinket wasn't afraid of heights but when the ladder swayed under her feet and the wind tugged and tore at her morning gown she wondered if the children would just find her with a broken neck tomorrow.

But all the way up she got and with good aid of her long nails she managed to force open the window and crawl inside.

It was so dark. Not even a moon to light her way. It was long since the power had gone out and she kept her hands outstretched as she walked the corridor and to his bedroom, carefully so she wouldn't end up stepping on him.

"Haymitch?" Her hands brushed over the cold tangled sheets of his bed. She got out a candle from the nightstand and the light illuminated her pale face. Shadows flickered off the walls but Haymitch was nowhere to be found.

There were more candles in a kitchen drawer. She'd stashed them there herself and with an old candlestick in hand she walked from room to room, searching for him.

The door to the study was ajar. She couldn't remember the last time Haymitch had found a reason to go in there. But she pushed inside and the hinges creaked from disuse.

The room was a mess. The large desk of polished wood, the carved straight-backed chairs, the mahogany grand piano, they were all in the wrong place or knocked over, the carpets tangled together. Like someone had barged in here in anger or fear.

She found him in the corner. Back up against the wall, arms and legs sprawled out before him. His eyes were open, the lashes shadowed his cheeks when he blinked but he didn't look at her. He didn't look at anything.

Effie set the candlestick aside and crouched before him, her face close to his and her chest tightened when she saw the claw marks.

"Haymitch," she said softly. She took one of his large hands. The nails were caked with blood from when he'd dug them in to his face, against something terrible only he could see. "Haymitch, it's me. It's Effie."

He didn't respond. Didn't acknowledge her in any way. The only real sign of life in him was the slow rise and fall of his chest.

The old Effie, the clueless, young escort of so many years ago, might have passed it off as just too much booze or if not tried to shake him, calling his name each time more and more panicky. Now she knew better. Knew it all too well.

She went and lit more candles. Walked from the kitchen to the living room and bathroom getting out soft, clean towels and other things she needed. Filled a bowl of lukewarm water and brought it all back with her into the study.

She placed a cushion behind Haymitch's back, the blanket over his lap and so it covered his naked feet. All the while she spoke to him, telling him what she was doing.

And then Effie sat down cross-legged by his side, the bowl of water on her lap. She wet one of the towels and began to gently wash the cuts on his face.

Outside the storm raged on. The house creaked and groaned as if the wind tried to blow it all to pieces. Water ran between Effie's fingers and into the bowl as she wrung the towel out and she began to wash the blood from his nails. There was still no reaction from Haymitch but Effie's voice was calm and soft as a caress, trying to coax him back to her.

He'd never been like this before, not for her to see. But after the war there'd been periods of time when she lay numb and motionless just like this, staring at nothing. Like she'd shatter into a million pieces if she moved or couldn't hold everything together.

She was done with one hand now and began on the other with the same soft and gentle strokes. The water in the bowl had gone pink but Haymitch's hands were soon clean. She patted them dry. The cuts on his face weren't too deep. They'd heal in time. She made an attempt to pull away though and go have a look in the first aid kit – when she felt the lightest of pressures of his hand around hers.

"Eff." His voice was raspy, barely audible but his gray eyes focused on her for the first time all night. "Eff?"

"Yes," she said and squeezed his hand with both of hers.

"You're here?"

"I'm here," she said. "Of course I am."

In the flickering candle light his features seemed so childlike, like he was that young boy again.

"My fault," he said and his voice broke.

"No, Haymitch."

"My fault. I sent 'em away, Effie. I shouldn't have. We should've known. I should've known they weren't gonna let us be. And I sent them away to die. I watched them burn."

"It wasn't your fault, Haymitch."

His hands clutched on to hers to the point of pain and his gray eyes shone with tears.

"It should've been me."

She stayed with him for the rest of the night. It took hours before she could even get him to stand. He leaned heavily against her on their way up the stairs but she managed to help him into bed. And while the storm kept trying to tear the world apart outside, Haymitch eventually fell asleep, completely exhausted.

But Effie lay awake. And with Haymitch's hand still in hers she wept. Silently, because she didn't want to wake him, the tears kept rolling down her face and into the pillow until it was all soaked. She wept for this man next to her that she cared so much about and the young boy he'd once been. For his mother and brother and girl all lost to him. For all the pain he'd suffered and the open wound inside him that would never truly heal.

And for leaving him all alone in it.

None of you know what's going on inside a victor's head. Johanna couldn't have been more right. Because of what happened in the woods Effie had jumped straight to the conclusion that it was about her. His behavior these past few days. But it never was. At least not primarily.

Haymitch did come back like he said he would. He'd been right outside with the apple basket when he must have heard Annie play the piano while Finn sang. Had it triggered some kind of flashback? A painful memory associated with the old song? Whatever it was he just dropped everything and fled. Who wouldn't?

And then everything just deteriorated from there.

All the clues had been there right in front of her and she'd misunderstood every single one of them. He didn't make it easy not to. But how many times, how many countless times hadn't he been there for her, picking up the pieces? And when he was the one in need she wasn't able to recognize it. She just left him here to suffer.

For that Effie sobbed and would so for the rest of the night.

But Haymitch slept, unaware that there was someone who cried for his sake. And when he woke the next morning, alone in bed and with a throbbing headache, he was positive all that with Effie the other night was just another cruel trick of his mind.

Until he walked downstairs and happened to look out the window and there she was. With a bucket in hand, shakily feeding the geese.

Chapter Text

It'd been a calm, uneventful morning. The scarce autumn light shone through the windows of Effie's living room where she stood and arranged tulips in a large vase. She'd bought them on impulse when she went to get groceries on Heaven's Square. Now she relished in the peace and quiet, having a day in for a change. Soon she'd drink a cup of coffee. It was just now brewing in the kitchen.

After she found Haymitch the way she did, she'd wanted to call her job and stay with him. They talked about it in the morning but in the end they decided it was better if she went back to the Capitol for now.

Haymitch had seemed embarrassed. About the state she'd found him in, she supposed. He never brought it up though and neither did she. Nothing about the event in the woods either.

They just had breakfast. And in a way it was a relief. Now they could move on and let what had happened be just another chapter in their long history together.

So it was goodbye, for now. He followed her to the train station and she squeezed his hands through the window up until the last moment. Yes, things were good between them again. Like they were back on track after their little detour.

Yet she did have a hard time falling asleep on the journey home all the same.

Because on top of everything else that had happened she hadn't forgotten about the fact they never used protection when they had sex.

There were no morning-after pills in District Twelve and ever since it happened there'd been a part of her that worried. Haymitch never came inside her, thank God, but it was no guarantee.

What if he got her pregnant? What on Earth would they do then?

But Effie needn't worry. When she bought her morning coffee outside the Academy, she felt how she got her period. And that was that.

Haymitch must have worried as well. He called her right when she was getting ready for bed. He didn't flat-out ask but Effie always knew when Haymitch beat around the bush so she just told him. You could hear just from his silence how relieved he got.

They wound up talking for a couple of hours and that's how the nights went for awhile.

It was surprisingly easy to talk with Haymitch when he wasn't dead drunk. To hear the children tell it, all District 12's mentor and escort did was fight but that wasn't altogether true. They'd had some nice conversations over the years. He'd always been sharp and he had humour, unlike so many men in the Capitol.

She hadn't heard from him in a couple of weeks now though but she spoke regularly with Katniss and Peeta and knew they would keep him out of too much trouble. If he needed some time for himself she would respect that.

But he was never far from her thoughts. And while she arranged the red and pink and white and yellow tulips she sunk into a reverie about her makeshift family.

Did the sun shine over District 12 too? Katniss would most definitely be out in the woods by now. Peeta was at the bakery and Haymitch, well, he was probably still asleep. Later, perhaps he'd do a checkup round to see that the geese were alright. He did so every once in a while.

She could see him so clearly. Hair on end, barefoot, eyes red and hung over. With a large yawn he would go pick a few of the eggs for breakfast to prevent the Victor's Village from flooding with geese and then he'd just walk back inside to get a bottle. Maybe make himself a cup of coffee and…

That's when the door bell rang.

Effie looked up, startled. She wasn't expecting anyone, especially not this early.

She set the last of the tulips aside and headed out the hallway, saw the shadow through the frosted glass.

It couldn't be…

She opened the door and there on her front step, bag slung over one shoulder, his shirt so incredibly wrinkly he must have slept in it all night, stood Haymitch.

She stared at him and he looked back at her.

"Hey, Eff."

"Hi," she said weakly.

That was all they said. All they needed to say. And he crossed the small space between them, straight into her arms.

None of them even thought about shutting the door. They clung to each other so tightly Effie could feel his heart beating just as hard as her own.

God, she had missed him. She didn't even realize how much until now. And he'd come back. So he must have missed her too.

Afterwards she wouldn't remember which one of them leaned in first. She only knew she pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, to try and figure out what he was thinking. Their faces were so close she could count every single one of his eyelashes.

And their lips met. It didn't even last very long but unlike all the other kisses they'd shared it was not laced with desperation or loneliness or pent-up lust but something else. Something new.

When they pulled back Effie's cheeks were flushed and glowing. She looked at Haymitch only to see he was just as warm and red. They didn't let go of each other.

"I," she said and her voice was all raspy and odd. She gave him a quick, almost shy smile and rested her hand against his chest. "I just brewed a pot of coffee. Would you like some?"

Chapter Text

Haymitch stood by the open window, hands in his pockets. The soft breeze made his hair flutter. Behind him on the bed was the duffel bag and a part of him longed to get the bottles out and gulp down as much as he could take.

But he didn't. This time he didn't.

Back in Twelve he'd waited for Effie to invite herself over like she always did. And when that didn't happen he drank and then he drank some more and more.

In the end he just reached the point when he had to do something. He missed her. God help him, he needed her in his life. Effie Trinket, the silly woman he'd been forced to work with and even loathed the first years.

All the bottles in Panem couldn't push down the intrusive, unwelcomed feelings that nettled him now. Not anymore. He felt it under the apple trees and he felt it now.

He was falling off the deep end.

The bathroom door open and he turned from the window. They watched each other across the bed. Effie's hair fell in soft, sandy waves. She wore the pink nightgown he'd seen her sleep in a dozen times. Yet this was something different and they both felt it.

When he watched her leave that day with Finn and the others, after the way he treated her, he thought she would never come back. That he'd lost her too.

But here they were.

A few stray drops of water glittered on her neck when she took his hands.

"So," she said. "We're really doing this?"

"I'm no picnic, Eff," he mumbled.

"No? That's too bad," she said, a small smile on her lips. How odd it felt that her eyes could shine so brightly when it was him she looked at.

"I must be out of my mind," he said. "And of all the men you could've chosen, you pick a sad, old drunk who's already seen his best days."

Effie linked her arms around his neck.

"You have not seen your best days."

His hands rested against the small of her back and on sheer impulse he lifted her up in to his arms. He reached for the bag next only to bump Effie's forehead on the window frame.

"Sorry," he mumbled quickly but Effie only chuckled. Well, we're off to a real good start.

But he carried her to bed and laid her down on the sheets that, unlike his own, were fresh and clean and without so much as a wrinkle.

His mouth was dry as sawdust. She pulled him with her and on top of her and for a moment he didn't do anything. Just tried to not crush her with his weight.

Because he was nervous. There was no point to try and deny it. Despite this being their second time he was so incredibly nervous, in a way he hadn't been since he lost his virginity all those years ago.

He wasn’t exactly fit or experienced. Hadn’t had sex in decades. Not since he was a boy.

He didn’t want to disappoint her.

But as if she sensed it Effie took the first step. Leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to his lips. Looked into his eyes and he swallowed thickly.

“Beautiful,” she mumbled. “You’re so beautiful, Haymitch. I’m so lucky.”

She kissed him again, hand against his cheek and it got him brave enough to deepen it.

This was Effie after all. He'd slept with his head on her lap more times than he could count and as they kissed, the last of his awkwardness melted away.

They took it slow this time. Haymitch closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair when she let her hands wander over his skin, curiously exploring the lines and shapes of his body.

She'd been a constant most of his adult life. Maybe that's why she felt so safe and familiar. He dropped a single kiss to her neck and her lollipop pink nails completely disappeared in his hair when he re-discovered her body with his lips.

Time lost meaning as they got to know each other this way. When they finally joined, the last of the walls between them had all crumbled down. They moved in pace with each other, wrapped in each other. Inside and out.

He wanted to make it last longer but it was no use.

And in that one sweet moment, all was well.

Chapter Text

"It's OK, you can pull over here, please. Thank you."

Fresh from work, dressed in her chocolate brown outfit Effie stepped out of the cab and into the pancake house.

She used to come here all the time as a girl. There in the corner was their old table, the candy red one with the blue potted angel's trumpets. Mother always fretted over the calories but it didn't change the fact all three of them loved pancakes.

So when Effie had lost yet another beauty pageant or audition or contest of some sort, it was her father's way of coaxing her mother out of the bathroom.

"No more crying," he'd say gently. "There'll be new opportunities. Now we will eat and only look ahead."

Looking back on it now it'd been those moments, between failures, that she'd felt close to her parents. Close and less lonely.

Her apartment was just a stone's throw away so Effie walked the rest of the way home. She found Haymitch the way she left him. On the couch. Since he seldom slept all night through he took naps during the day and she wasn't going to disturb him. She only put the food box on the coffee table and went to change clothes.

The bedroom was a mess. The sheets all tangled up, coffee cups and plates with orange peels on the nightstands, discarded clothes everywhere, a wet towel slung over the bed.

She went and seized the half-emptied bottles and there was a part of her that itched to go tell him he should really have cleaned up after himself since he'd been home all day and an even bigger part of her wanted to pour the last of the alcohol down the drain.

In the end she decided against both impulses. She placed the bottles by his side of the bed and only hoped he wouldn't defile all of her apartment quite as quickly as usual.

The light flickered on automatically when she stepped inside the largest closet to hang up her work outfit.

Once upon a time there'd been wigs on display heads in here. She saw herself reflected in all the mirrored wardrobes and as she began to untie the bandana, her mind went back to those disastrous December days when Haymitch first visited.

She'd been so nervous about meeting him again after all those years of silence, especially since she was pretty sure he made the trip because he worried for her, that she'd gone and put on her Capitol armour again.

Of course, she soon realized how silly and unnecessary it was. It was hard not to shake your head at the memory. But she was only human. For some reason she'd felt safer, less exposed behind the Capitol attire.

Noises from the bedroom interrupted her thoughts and she pushed open the door just in time to watch Haymitch grab all the clothes from the bed.

He stopped when he saw her though and Effie couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, his arms full of dirty laundry and the look on his face like she'd caught him doing something naughty.

Haymitch cleared his throat, awkwardly.

"I was just looking for my scotch," he muttered.

With a smile still on her face Effie walked over to him. Clearly she wasn't the only one who wanted to make a good impression. She took the clothes and tossed them in the armchair so he could put his arms around her instead. With the heels on she didn't even have to stay on tip-toe to kiss him.

He tugged at her jacket so she could shoulder out of it and she chuckled at his unlucky attempts to find a zipper.

"How the fuck does this work?" he muttered and she guided his hands to the hidden buttons so he could open her sheath dress all the way and reveal the pristine white corset underneath.

She was hard as a floorboard. Hell, damn near burglar-proof and while he pulled the dress over her head and went on to fumble with all the tiny little clasps he dimly wondered how she could even remain conscious in that thing.

"How long can you stay?" she breathed, more and more deeply as the corset loosened around her.

"Want me out of your hair?"

"Oh, you know that's… not it."

Their lips met in an open-mouthed kiss and he disengaged the corset from her and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

Yeah, he knew. And a big part of him was scared shitless for it.

But when she kissed him he was powerless. Completely powerless.

He was so screwed.

xXx

With such a beautiful day you couldn't stay indoors. At least not according to Effie. So after the pancakes she persuaded Haymitch to take a walk with her.

"You have to see the Roman Stairs," she smiled and looped her arm around his.

With a name like Cupid's Garden Haymitch suspected the worst but place wasn't as outrageous as it could have been. Weird trees, maybe. They blushed in all the normal autumn colours like orange, yellow and red but there were also hues like bright blue, silver gray and neon purple. Like a cluster of party balloons or Effie's old wigs.

The Roman Stairs were a slightly curved flight of stairs made from white marble. They had a seat at the top, on either side of a funny stone toad, over-looking a pond. The mockingjays thrived, sharing the spotlight with a gaggle of ducks and two swans.

The place felt oddly familiar despite the fact he was pretty sure he would have remembered coming here and then he realized. This was where Effie found him, that time he got tanked up and fell over in the snow. He'd been so drunk he thought he'd trudged back into the Meadow of Twelve. Yeah, that was a funny day.

"It's so peaceful around here," Effie said. "And Castor and Pollux had a hand in making this, you know," she smiled and gave the smooth marble a pat.

"They're camera men."

"I know". She tapped a light finger against the stone toad's head and he saw it had one of them square symbols. Like on the holographic photo she got him for his birthday.

"Mind flights," Effie explained. "Pollux still records quite a few of them each year. Documentaries as well, with Cressida. We use them in teaching."

"What'cha teach?" Haymitch wondered and it surprised him he'd never actually asked what Effie did those two days a week. If Plutarch ever told him he'd been too drunk to remember. "All manners and how to be good little Effie Trinkets?"

It was meant as a joke but it fell flat and he heard how wrong it sounded.

"Ok, not funny," he said but her smile had faded. "Not funny." Oh, fuck. Even when he worked his ass off he still fucked up.

"That's not what I do, Haymitch", Effie said. "I don't do that anymore."

She tried to not take it so to heart but she did.

The logical part of her knew it wasn't odd he jumped to that conclusion right away. After all, it was her job during the Games. To teach the tributes how to behave in front of the cameras. But it still hurt that Haymitch thought she did that today, to Gracie and all of her other girls.

She remembered her own teacher in etiquettes. Remembered all too well.

There was a reason Effie had perfect table manners and could run around in heels full-time. At the Academy, if the book fell off your head when you learned how to walk or if so much as a drop of soup stained the table cloth they wrapped you over the knuckles with a ruler.

It shamed her to say she'd fallen back to that old upbringing herself once. When she tried and failed to teach Katniss how to walk and smacked her hand, yelling "Not above the ankles!"

Because those methods and worse were so standard practice in the Capitol, among parents and teachers.

It had gotten better since after the war. And the new government intended to establish a new, co-ed and less strict school for the Capitol as soon as possible. But until they got that plan off the table they had included mandatory courses for the schools that already existed. Pallas's Academy where Effie taught and Appollo's Academy for the boys.

Haymitch nudged her knee.

"What do you teach then?" he asked.

And Effie told him.

The districts weren't the only ones who were told lies. The children of the Capitol and District 2 for that matter they were the "Snow generation". The youngsters who grew up with the glorified image of President Snow as the father of the nation. Until the rebellion all they even knew was what the regimen chose to tell them. Not just about the Hunger Games. The people of the districts were presented to them as second-rate humans. Good for hard labor but barbaric and nothing like the citizens of the Capitol.

"During my classes we sit down together and talk," Effie said simply. "About compassion and equality, what makes us different and what makes us alike. They write and draw about their feelings and guest speakers come in from all over the country to talk to them about the war, about moral and prejudices and what life is like in the districts. These children were under the Capitol's influence and fed by the propaganda machine every day, we all were and sooner or later those seeds may bear fruit, unless we plant something else. So that's what we try to do."

Effie silenced and looked at him, head high, as if he'd do something like scoff her or her girls but his heart only swelled with pride.

"Didn't know you'd be good with kids," he said with a little half-smile. Oh, fuck, that didn't come out right either. "I mean you are good with kids. As far as I can tell. I mean they would'n't have hired someone who weren't, so…" He shut up at the sight of Effie's raised eyebrows. She looked rather amused.

So instead of keep on digging he brushed his thumb across the symbol on the stone toad.

Immediately Cupid's Garden disappeared. It was just like in Effie's library. Only now, instead of the pond and all the mockingjays, they were looking at a clear, blue ocean so real and endless it took your breath away. Between the sunbeams that turned the water to diamonds and the white sailboats far in the distance you could have sworn you were in District 4.

Made him think of Finn and his stomach tied together with guilt. He hadn't heard from Annie or Jo since they left. His memories from that morning were hazy but he remembered Finn, sobbing.

He should call and apologize.

He watched Effie as the mind flight changed to the open fields of District 9. She still hadn't mentioned the night of the storm, not yet anyway and he was grateful for it. When he was at his absolute lowest he didn't want people to see it. He was still ashamed about the time he went into withdrawal and scared Prim half to death. He'd had a few spells like the one in the study before and always managed to pull out of them on his own after a few hours. And that's the way he wanted it, if the alternative was to freak everybody out.

He should have known Effie wasn't going to let him be.

"I'll get us some coffee," he said when they could see the pond again. The square wasn't far and coffee was a peace offer as good as any, he reckoned.

He disappeared. Effie stayed where she was. The sun shone through the blushing trees and made her bandana glow just as brightly.

Coffee would be nice, she thought.

But something kept him.

And as the minutes passed she began to wonder. Despite it all.

And yes, she went to the bar. That was her first impulse and when she couldn't find him there she wasn't sure which feeling won over, relief or guilt.

So instead she walked over to Jerome, the balding, big-bellied grocer who sold her fruit every week. Her heels clicked against the well-swept paving stones when she crossed Heaven's Square and over to his stall where he stood surrounded by boxes of oranges and apples, pineapples and watermelons.

"Hi, Effie. Any pomegranates today?"

It was hard not to like Jerome. And his wife. They'd always been easy to talk to. And their goods were first-class.

"Haymitch Abernathy," he said when she asked. "Yes, I saw him go with the green lady."

"Green lady?" Then she realized. "Oh."

"Effie!" Octavia piped the moment she stepped into the beauty salon and Effie found herself enveloped in her plump, marzipan green arms. "What a lovely surprise!"

"Hi, Effie!" Flavius and Venia waved eagerly from across the room. "Look who we found!"

And she saw Haymitch's exhausted face over the edge of a barber's chair between the two beauticians.

"I know I know", Flavius said, his orange corkscrew curls as impressive as ever. "It's hard to look straight at him. We weren't prepared either. He was never easy on the eye of course but don't worry. When we're through with him he'll be perfect. Absolutely perfect! Now, Haymitch," he said and turned back to him. "We've already told you. We're not going to force you into anything. You can decide for yourself what you want me and Venia to change."

"Yeah?" said Haymitch. "How 'bout nothing. There's nothing I wanna change."

If he thought that would do the trick he was sorely mistaken. Flavius and Venia laughed hysterically.

"Of course there is!" Venia exclaimed and the bright light from the ceiling reflected off her gold tattoos. She'd had her aqua colored hair styled in a square so it framed her face like a TV-screen. "There're always things people want to change!"

"What do you say we do something about your nails, Effie," Octavia smiled.

"I'm sorry, we're actually in a bit of a hurry. I just came here to get Haymitch. But how about next Tuesday?"

"How about the hair," Flavius said and tapped a finger against his purple colored lips, examining Haymitch's face closely.

"You'll lose an arm."

"We could really make you something special," said Venia. "Finally."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"Ah, ah, ah. Don't be a whiner, Haymitch," Flavius said. "That's very unattractive."

"Very," said Venia.

"Do you think I care? You're not touching it."

Flavius looked to Venia and Venia looked to Flavius and both of them shook their head sadly.

"How about the beard then?" Flavius asked finally. "Can we at least do something about this ghastly stubble?"

Haymitch heaved a tremendous sigh.

"You can groom it. A bit. And then you'll let me the hell outta here. And you'll just trim it. Nothing else."

Flavius opened his mouth.

"It's not open for discussion! Nothing else!"

"My pleasure", Flavius said, even though he looked the opposite. "You know, this is really a waste of our talent."

Haymitch threw Effie a miserable look and she gave him a smile of support.

"I'm so happy Haymitch is here. Now you will both come to my party," piped Octavia. "It will be the event of the year! I can count on you to be there?"

"Um…" Effie said. She had RSVP'd to Octavia's birthday party. But after what had happened with Haymitch all she really wanted to do was stay home and try and figure things out with him. But when she looked into Octavia's happy, expectant face she knew there was only one answer she could give her.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"What's that!" Haymitch's voice boomed from across the room. "What kind of a beautician are you? I told you to trim it! What's that?" And he pointed to the swirl pattern Flavius had shaved into his stubble. "I'm from Twelve!"

"But it will flatter your face," Flavius said. "I know you people don't have much cause to look nice in District 12. Katniss already told us that, but since you do have a very twisted view on beauty I thought I'd take it upon myself to show you what your style should look like. Haymitch, just leave yourself in our capable hands and we'll help you take on the world! Or at least get a girlfriend. Or boyfriend, whatever rocks your boat!"

xXx

You know, compared to those three you're a breeze."

Another day had come and gone and they were back in bed. Haymitch with a pair of baby smooth cheeks and Effie, fighting hard not to laugh.

"But you have to admit you do look rather handsome," she said. "I can't even remember the last time I saw you clean-shaven."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Haymitch said. "And a little heads-up next time won't hurt."

Effie smiled. It seemed like she'd done that a lot lately. Smile. And he was right of course. She shouldn't have seen him off to Heaven's Square and their excellent coffee take away without warning him the beauty salon lay just a few blocks away. If the prep team wanted to rope you in, they roped you in. Especially if unprepared. It was a gift.

"I have to go to her party now, don't I?" Haymitch said tiredly.

"Well, I think I ought to at least," Effie said. "It means a great deal to Octavia. I don't want to disappoint her. And besides, parties can be nice. You had one for your birthday, remember?"

"That wasn't a party. It was just pay-back. Kids made me."

"How? What did you do?"

"Pushed Katniss down the stairs."

"Haymitch!"

"It was an accident. I wasn't even that drunk. I just shut the door to the cellar and didn't see her there. Anywho, when the doctor patched her up Katniss threatened to throw me a birthday party just to get back at me. The boy really went with the idea and I didn't get a say. " He threw her a glance. "I think he just wanted to get you there. Reckoned I missed ya."

"Did you?"

"Meh," Haymitch shrugged.

The smile on Effie’s lips widened.

"You could have just asked me."

"Nah. I prefer you in writing. Then I can put you in a drawer when you start to annoy me."

"Mm, yes. Wouldn't that make things simpler."

She rested her head into his shoulder, hand against his naked chest.

"So... Here we are. Still no walking out?" she asked, only half-jokingly. "I keep expecting you to change your mind."

"How 'bout you?" he asked. "Do you know what we're doing?"

She gave her head a slight shake.

"Not really. I know I don't want to stop."

He laced their fingers together.

"You and me both."

Their lips found each other again and when they kissed with such certainty, what did the rest of it matter?

"Mm." Haymitch stopped at the sound of disappointment in Effie's voice.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said. "It's just… I kind of miss your stubble."

Chapter Text

She had a hard face, the old lady across the street. An olive green scarf cuffed her neck and, poorly hidden by the white powder, her skin was a web of lines and wrinkles and surgically implanted yellow gemstones.

She had sad eyes, Haymitch thought. Pale, green eyes that pierced his across the road when he locked Effie's door after himself.

"Evenin'," he nodded and she pressed her lips together so tightly the wrinkles seemed to sew her mouth together.

Of course Haymitch was used to people staring at him. With contempt, fear, desire. He'd gotten them all. When he was younger it had bother him a lot but it was years now since he'd cared.

The old woman had turned away from him. But it wasn't until she disappeared through the front door just across from Effie's that he realized. It was her face he'd seen through the window on his last visit here, before he found Effie's photo album.

He fished up a bottle of spirits from his jacket pocket and replaced it with the key.

He needed to buy more condoms, he reminded himself on his slow walk through the Capitol that had awoken to its night life, the air crisper now that they were in October. They still had a few left but he wasn't taking any chances.

Effie should've been way madder at him. He needed only think about his recklessness in the woods to start mind-insulting himself all over again.

Did she think he'd been in control that time? Because the answer was a resounding no! That he didn't get them into trouble on the first try was just a strike of dumb luck, nothing else.

Not that he thought he'd be any good at babymaking, even if he tried. After all those years of heavy drinking his swimmers were probably as deadbeat as the rest of him. But either way, their first time would be the last they ever went sky-diving without a parachute.

Finding Octavia's house was easier than he thought. Effie had pointed it out to him and the music could be heard miles away.

When he pushed inside it was like walking into a living fruit salad. People wore dresses made out of fake apples and pears and oranges, eatable hats and jewellery, suits with cherry and blueberry patterns and one woman, he was quite certain, had nothing on but a full body paint that made her look like banana porn.

Effie was at the bar, surrounded by the prep team. She looked less crazy for a change. Damn fine actually in a white dress patterned with strawberries and green leaves. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it of course. He’d done his very best to keep her from putting it on earlier and get her back into bed.

She would’ve looked lovely with her real strawberry blonde hair loose but he didn’t even try to convince her of that since she wouldn’t ditch the head wraps anyway. When he first saw her in one, he thought they were all gray but like her old wigs, Effie had one in every color. Green today. She practically matched Octavia.

“…but he’s a morsel, Effie!” Haymitch heard her delighted squeak as he zig-zagged through the crowds to get to them. “You should really hit that! If things weren’t getting very serious with Quirinus…”

"Who truly lives up to his name," Flavius winked.

"Right!" Octavia giggled. "I would absolutely go for it! You should have some fun!"

"Moment of truth," Venia smiled and put her arm around Effie. "Someone keeping you warm?"

"You know you can always tell us!" Flavius said, eager for the latest gossip. "I mean, I can't even remember you dating anyone since Julian."

"Oh, Julian! He was a darling!" Octavia gushed with her hand over her chest.

"But very small hands," Venia said. "And we all know what small hands mean!"

The three of them burst out laughing and Haymitch bet he was the only one to notice the tiredness underneath Effie's smile. Which was great news for him, if you thought about it.

And she would keep their secret, he knew. Effie had a knack for putting up a facade when she had to. Hell, there was a time she even fooled him. Which was why people (a lot more suspicious than Katniss's prep team) bought into the whole "severe meningitis" story she spread out to cover the fact she overdosed on sleeping pills.

And what about all the other secrets she kept locked up inside her heart? Was there even a single person in this entire city that she confided in?

"Hi!" Effie said in surprise when Haymitch reached them. She smiled. "What a lovely and unexpected surprise."

"Haymitch, your beard!" Flavius shrieked and stared at the mentor's stubbled cheeks. "When I gave you that shave you weren't supposed to let it grow back in!"

"And you're not dressed," said Octavia, disappointment written all over her green face. "The theme was 'From the fruit bowl.'"

Venia patted her friend's shoulder soothingly.

"We mustn't hold it against him", she said. "He's from District 12."

"Haymitch wasn't originally able to attend," said Effie, always one to come to his defense. "We should all just be happy that he is here now."

"Oh, we are, Effie. We are," said Octavia. She smiled at Haymitch as if to prove it. "And, obviously, I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away!"

"Octavia's birthday parties are legendary," said Flavius.

"Oh, yes," Venia nodded.

"If only Annabel had agreed to play the trumpet for us," Octavia pouted.

"You got them out of the house at least," said Venia. "Just think about how many parties they've declined these past few years. It makes me want to cry!"

Octavia nodded sadly. Then she took Effie's hands and kissed her on both cheeks.

"Now have a lovely evening, you two. I hope you change your mind about, you know," she smiled. "Oh, and Haymitch," she added. "Don't despair. In a different light I'm sure you wouldn't look half as repulsive."

With that the three beauticians darted away again and from Haymitch came a deep sigh.

It was creepy how virtually unchanged Katniss's prep team was. But then again, just like with Effie: Who knew what went on behind closed doors?

"Don't listen to her," Effie said. The music was so loud they could speak without fear of being over-heard. "You're a lot more handsome than you let on. I should know. I've been right up close."

Haymitch raised his eyebrows, like "seriously?" but Effie only smiled and sipped her drink. He gave up.

"I came to walk you home", he said. "It's been four hours. I'm famished."

"Only 1,45," Effie chuckled. "Miss me already, Abernathy?"

"I miss not being hungry. Can't turn your damn stove on. And with our luck we should clear out now anyways before the shit hits the fan."

"Oh, it cannot possibly get any worse than our last Capitol party," said Effie. "Fine," she added when she saw his look. "Let me just finish my drink and then we can go. And there is food here if you like."

Haymitch went and filled a plate and they found an empty couch in a more secluded corner of the room.

"Who's Annabel?" he asked, remembering Octavia's words and the postcard on Effie's mirror.

"A dear friend of mine." Unlike Haymitch who sat slouched back with the plate precariously balanced on his knee, Effie sat upright on the very edge of the sofa, prim and proper as ever. "We were roommates at the Academy. She was a jeweller before the war. " She smiled at some memory. "I had my first drink with her, I recall. She found a way to smuggle in bottles through our window and she was always my lookout when I was up on the roof."

"What were you doing on the roof?"

"Well, I happened to have a few nocturnal randezvous with the chimney-sweep during my final year. His son to be exact. It was his family's company and after he was done with the school's chimneys he went right over to mine. Best sex I've ever had! …Up until just recently," she chuckled when she saw the deep crease between Haymitch's eyebrows.

"That's her, over there," she nodded towards two ladies across the room. "The one in the purple dress."

The woman in question was a tall and slender brunette with barrettes the shape of watermelon slices. She was talking with a short, blonde woman with a serious face. Both of them looked almost too normal to be from the Capitol. "The blonde lady next to her is her wife, June Summer. You remember the gray dress I wore when we… picked apples? It was from her collection."

"That dress was my undoing," Haymitch mumbled almost absent-mindedly. He stared intently at the dark-haired woman. This Annabel. There was something eerily familiar about her. Something about her brown eyes.

The two ladies had spotted them now and headed their way.

"We have to call it a night," said Annabel and she and Effie kissed on the cheeks. "Early train tomorrow. But it was so good to see you again."

"It truly was," said Effie.

Now Annabel's eyes went to Haymitch who was still on the couch. A gentleman would have shaken her hand but he only stared at her, scowled at her rather, like only Haymitch could.

Effie had to introduce them.

"This is Haymitch."

"I know," Annabel said and gave him a warm smile that only made his skin crawl. "Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Abernathy."

When Haymitch didn't answer Annabel turned back to Effie.

"You must come and visit us when we're back in the Capitol, yes? It's been too long."

"Of course," Effie smiled and squeezed their hands goodbye.

“Do I know her?” Haymitch mumbled when it was just them again.

“No. But you probably see her father in her. She is Caesar Flickerman’s oldest daughter.”

That explained it then. Haymitch's brow crinkled. He'd always been ambivalent when it came to the famous TV host.

"Don't go with your first assumption, Haymitch," Effie said softly. "She was the one who made your gold bangle. And Peeta's medallion."

She swallowed the last of her drink and set the glass on the side-table.

"I need to go and powder my nose," she said. "But I'll be right back."

"And then we'll go home," said Haymitch with a pointed look at her.

"Yes, Haymitch, then we'll go home. I'm actually surprised you lasted this long."

She disappeared and Haymitch returned his focus on the food and his bottle of white liquor that made good on the promise to help him tune out most of the freakish fruit show around him.

He was just contemplating how drunk he could get and still be allowed in to Effie's bed, when something caught his attention.

Another guest had arrived. Beer in hand, her long blonde hair entwined with fake yellow strands that matched her dress, she strode in followed by a man with green stripes in his hair and a bored expression.

This was truly a night of remembrance. Only this time, he knew exactly where from.

It was the same lady they'd seen at the Capitolium. The 20-something woman who made Effie so distraught they'd left the restaurant in a rush.

She sipped her bottle and looked over the crowds of flamboyantly dressed people. Her eyes had just landed on him when Effie re-appeared.

Just like before, she froze. It lasted only a fraction of a second; he doubted no one but him had even noticed it and when the woman turned and spotted her as well Effie's smile was back on. Not like when she looked at Annabel or even the prep team. Her bullet proof Capitol smile that no one could see through.

"Effie dear!" The light glittered off the woman's wrist bracelets when she waved. Haymitch didn't think he'd ever heard such a cold cheerfullness. She had a husky "cigar-voice", as Haymitch called it, that didn't fit the rest of her.

The two women kissed as was custom here but Haymitch noticed their lips never touch the other's cheek, not even close.

"Nice party," the woman smiled sweetly. She was drunk, Haymitch noticed.

"Nice party," said Effie.

The young man the woman had arrived with ignored them like he ignored the rest of the party. His heavy-lidded eyes gazed at nothing in particular while he leisurely tapped one of his shiny, silver shoes against the floor.

”This is Paris, my cousin,” the woman said with a wave of her hand like he wasn’t important. “He just got dumped so I thought I’d bring him here so he won’t kill himself out of self-pity.”

"Shut your hole," the man said in a bored voice.

"You brought someone too, I see," she said and looked at Haymitch. "I mean, who else would? It's Haycock, right?" she asked him.

"Haymitch," Effie corrected, tensely. "Haymitch, this is Gloria. Gloria Highgrass."

"Charmed," Gloria said and eyed Haymitch up and down. "I hear you've been quite the globetrotter, Effie," she continued and turned to her again. "People say you've gone back and forth between the Capitol and that coal district like a yo-yo."

Effie's lips were pressed to non-existence but she nodded.

"I have visited quite frequently."

"Ýes, well," said Gloria and her eyes went back to Haymitch in the most obvious way possible. "You always liked to be on the bottom, didn't you? Bottom district. I hope you keep a closer eye on that little tike on fire this time around. We've had enough district tantrums to last us a life-time, don't you think?"

She smiled sweetly at them.

"Have a nice night."

"That horrible, horrible woman," Effie said through gritted teeth when Gloria and her cousin had disappeared. "That mean, cold-hearted, scheming, uncaring, badly-dressed…"

"Forget about it," Haymitch muttered. He'd gotten to his feet and to Effie's side sometime between half of that, his plate still in hand. "Let's just go home."

"No," hissed Effie. "Not this time. I am going to give her a piece of my mind. "Once and for all!"

But Haymitch caught her wrist when she took a step forward and held it firmly.

"Come on, Effs. Before I spill my food."

"Then eat your dinner, Haymitch," said Effie in a voice that allowed no objections. "Do not care about her!"

During this, Gloria had filled a plate with steak and then more steak and now she took a seat in the midst of a group of Capitolians, her cousin included.

And while Haymitch ate, Effie sat vigil by his side, cheeks flushed with anger. There was more to this. Something else was going on, but Haymitch didn't get a chance to ponder over it because of Gloria's ramblings just a few couches down.

He chewed and swallowed. He wanted to leave this freak show but at the same time he was somewhat fascinated by the whole situation.

That girl should get some kind of award for being an absolute asshole.

The prep team was one thing. They could insult you and annoy you, but at the end of the day and in their own odd way, they meant well. They simply didn't know any better.

Gloria's intent couldn't have been more clear.

To upset District 12's mentor and escort til they choked.

"…so I wouldn't leave the Capitol if you paid me! My aunt was a big fan of that District 4 victor. Before he revealed his true colors of course! And she visited the fish district just last month and she told me it was awful! Awful people, awful weather. Children who played in the dirt with no one who looked after them. Their parents should really be ashamed of themselves!"

Effie's hands were fists on her lap. He hadn't seen her this upset since the time a woman tried to slip something in his drink. And it didn't help that some of the men and women around Gloria, primarily those whom had gotten a few drinks too many nodded.

"OK, I'm done," Haymitch muttered and put away his plate that was scraped clean. "Let's get the fuck outta here."

Effie nodded. She was so angry she didn't even correct him for his language. They got up and, never one to waste good food, Haymitch grabbed his blueberry muffin to go and followed Effie towards the cloak room. Just when they crossed the floor Gloria turned her head, saw the muffin in Haymitch's hand and said:

"Looks to me like the pig has started feeding himself."

"Eff," Haymitch said when she stopped short but Effie was deaf to his words.

"Hold this for me, please," she said and Haymitch found himself with her purse while Effie walked straight back to Gloria. "Apologize." Her voice rang loud and clear and people all turned their head. Some of them curiously. Many of them hostile. Octavia and the rest of the prep team stood nervous and big-eyed by the bar. "Apologize to Haymitch right now."

Gloria's eyes gleamed with malice. She got to her feet, drink in hand.

"You know what? I have a better idea," she said. "How about you apologize to the rest of us. You and your beau over there. That you even dared to bring him here is just beyond me. And you and Paylor can quack all you want about equality and rights and how 'we're not so different from each other' because we know the truth. They're nothing but vermin!"

Those words had no sooner left Gloria's mouth before Effie seized her drink and tossed its content right in her face.

Everything was chaos after that.

The women screamed, Octavia sobbed, people held Gloria back while Haymitch pulled at Effie and Paris he seemed to have finally woken from his boredom, watching the two women with mild interest while they screamed obscenities at one another.

"No wonder he left you!" Gloria shrieked and the drink splashed around her face. "What's it like to fuck her, Haycock? Tight and wet? More like flapping a hot dog in a corridor, huh? Isn't that what happens after you've given birth? Oh, she didn't tell you?" she laughed at the sight of Haymitch's face. "Your little Twelve whore there is a mama!"

Chapter Text

Effie had been in the shower for over 20 minutes. Haymitch heard her where he lay on the bed. She hadn't uttered a word during the walk home and he was too shaken to know what to say.

Alexander. It never even occurred to him it could be her child. A cousin, a brother maybe or even a sweetheart but her own kid? Because if Effie was pregnant shouldn't he have known about it?

The Games season was only a few weeks in the summer and true, he'd been drunk off his ass for most of their years together but still, could he really have been that thick? Unless it was before she became an escort but somehow he seriously doubted that possibility.

No, it must have happened some time during their early years. She wouldn't be able to hide a pregnancy later on when they got to know each other better. He would have noticed something was different.

He remembered her back then. Effie Trinket, new on the post. The very embodiment of her city who would blurt out comments that absolutely stunned him. He'd spent most of his days ignoring her, wasted and engaged in really ugly daydreams. And whatever high thoughts she might have had of him, he effectively smushed them the very first day.

Not that they were ever the dream team. But if Katniss and Peeta thought their mentor and escort fought a lot, it was still better than how it used to be. In the beginning their relationship was like a grenade flung over the sky. And the strange thing was, when it finally did explode and they had their first, real fight things actually got better between them after that.

He'd surprised even himself when he took the blame for the broken statue. Effie always started to throw things if you got her angry enough. And the things he'd said, like "You're here because you wanna be" and "You don't give a fuck about the kids you send off to die", well, it was really his fault. He took the blame because it was the first time he'd gotten a real emotion out of her. The first time he realized maybe she didn't sleep as well as he thought.

Perhaps it was too big a stretch to say they became friends that night. But it was the first tiny step they took towards each other instead of away.

But before that, Haymitch was the last person she'd ever go to with any personal matters. And when neither of them wanted to spend a second longer together than they had to he guessed it wasn't hard to hide a secret. For all he knew she could've given birth just before the Games began.

And if Effie did have a child, what happened to the child?

Haymitch pulled himself off the bed. The bathroom door was locked of course but he put the edge of his knife to good use and walked into the steam.

"Eff." He saw her shadow behind the shower curtain. When there was no answer he pulled his shirt over his head, got out of all the rest of his clothes and gently drew the curtains apart so he could step inside.

Effie's eyes were red and swollen when they met his and without a word Haymitch wrapped his arms around her.

He would have lifted all the pain and sorrow that crushed her down and carried it for her. Without a moment's hesitation. But he knew all he could do was let her know he was here for her now. That he'd never leave her alone in it again. And as the shower rained down on them Effie sobbed, enveloped in his embrace and this time she didn't pull away.

Afterwards they sat on the edge of the bed together. Dressed in a bathrobe and with Haymitch's arm around her waist Effie placed the large, old box on her lap. Not the box filled with embroideries that he'd found by chance but a similar one, with the name Alexander Trinket written in her careful hand-writing.

Effie handled the items inside with such delicacy, like she was touching a part of the newborn they had once belonged to. A soft receiving blanket, a cream-coloured romper she'd embroidered with ladybugs and the initials A.T. Pacifiers, baby bottles with butterfly patterns on them. Tiny, blue socks, a gray stuffed elephant.

And so she told him. Everything.

She never planned to become an escort. Not initially. Her dream was to study architecture but she signed up for the Games courses for the same reason she did anything growing up.

To make her parents proud.

Mr. and Mrs. Trinket had worshipped their little girl. They tried to have a baby for so long and when Euphemia was born they were convinced she would accomplish great things and make them very envied and talked-about. They needed only look at their daughter to know she would grow into a beautiful and talented young lady who would finally shower their family in glory.

To the people of the Capitol, life was like a never-ending game of King of the hill. Your place and your reputation in the city's hierarchy was something you had to fight for, every day. You could climb high on the ladder and you could get pushed all the way down. All at the drop of a hat.

So it came as a terrible shock to her parents when they discovered that, while Effie did OK, she was never the best. No matter how many contests they entered her in she was just like the rest of their family. Mediocre.

Her childhood became a quest to keep her mother's eyes from flooding with tears and her father's face to close off with disappointment and confusion. To prove to the world she was worth something.

She was young and naïve. And the life of an escort was so highly spoken of. A quick and easy way to gain fame and fortune. The ticket to a glamorous lifestyle filled with parties and televised events, interesting people and a chance to work with the famous victors of Panem.

Reality hit her like a sledgehammer the very first year. And Haymitch Abernathy, the fierce and handsome victor she remembered from the screen, laughed at her and said, "Life's not as pretty as the posters, eh?"

She wanted out. But even if she tried to resign after her contract ended they would demand a legitimate reason and she had none.

She kept her mouth shut. It was the only thing you could do. You shared brightly coloured little pills. You didn't share the ugliness of the Games. Besides, who would she dare tell? Definitely not her parents who were giddy over the fact they could tell all their friends and neighbors their daughter was now one of Panem's twelve escorts.

So, one night after the end of her second Games she got incredibly drunk at a party and woke the next day with a splitting headache, naked in a stranger's bed.

His name was Maximinus Kane. He was already up when she woke. A tall, dark-haired man who worked with advertising new victors. He was older than her but not a lot.

And a living block of ice.

She hardly remembered anything from last night and could not get her clothes back on any faster. She took a cab to the nearest drugstore and when she swallowed the morning after pill only prayed he told her the truth when he said they used protection. That she'd be forgiven for this mistake.

But she got pregnant all the same.

Weeks passed and she didn't tell anyone. If she couldn't prove who the father was, people at the Games Headquarters would be involved. They kept a very close watch to make sure the mentors and victors didn't procreate with the citizens of the Capitol. And whatever she decided to do about her situation, her secret would become everyone's property.

She'd never felt so alone. Very aware of the fact she couldn't hide forever. And the morning she noticed the slight swelling on her lower abdomen she knew she had to talk with Kane.

It took days to get a meeting with him and when she finally told him she expected a fit. That he'd curse and accuse her of lying.

He did neither. Kane was as cool and polite as ever. He tapped his fingers against the desk. That was the only reaction she got.

"Well, we can't have that," he said. "I'll go and make my part for the paternity test this afternoon. It will save you some time when you have the appointment. Anything else?"

"But I couldn't do it, Haymitch," Effie said, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "I knew I had put myself in a colossal mess when I slept with Kane but I couldn't do it. He called two weeks later to make sure the matters we discussed were all taken care of and when I told him, he said we had nothing more to say to each other."

She went and rented herself a small apartment downtown. She couldn't stay at home. Not with mother who wept over the fact her first grandchild would be a bastard and father who couldn't even speak of it. The predicament she was in caused the usual stir of gossip but eventually it died away again with juicier news found elsewhere. After all, children were born out of wedlock in the Capitol all the time.

And so she made a life for herself and her baby girl. A girl who wouldn't have a father. That thought hurt more than anything else but when she felt the baby kick, those were happy moments. She already loved her so much.

Months would pass before she saw Kane again. But one morning she found a letter on her doormat. A message and a wish for her to come and meet him at the coffee shop on Heaven's Square.

There he apologized for his behavior and said he wanted to take responsibility for what was his. That they ought to get married.

He never said what caused his change of heart so completely. She knew next to nothing about him or who he was. But she wanted to do what was best for her child.

He warmed up a little during the pregnancy. Not so much to Effie but the baby and that was all that really mattered. He spent more and more time over at her place, said they could name her Adora and that the two of them would move in with him as soon as they were married.

When Effie was close to nine months he had to attend a photo shoot in District 1. He said he'd be home again before she delivered but the stay got prolonged and when her water broke he wasn't with her. She had his number and made the hospital call but they never got in touch with him. He didn't return until two days after she'd given birth. And not to a girl it turned out.

"It was Alex," said Effie and the tears spilled over her lashes, rolling down her face. "He looked just like him but everything changed after that. From the moment Kane visited us in the hospital. He could hardly even hold him. It was like a door had been shut. He pretended like nothing was wrong, helped me with the baby when they released us from the hospital and only shrugged me off when I tried to talk to him. I said we ought to go see a doctor. That it might be postpartum depression but he said it was an illness only mothers got and that I should leave him alone. I told myself it would get better with time but…"

Tears dropped down in to the romper in Effie's hands and Haymitch didn't let go of her. He'd seen Kane. On television. Dark brown hair. Dead eyes. One of the few of Snow's accomplices who were sentenced to jail, not death.

"When Alex was three weeks old he got colic. He cried all night long. I held him. I feed him. I did everything to try and sooth him. Kane was with me and I badly needed do use the bathroom. I only handed Alex over to him for a moment…"

"Oh, Effie," Haymitch mumbled and she finished her story between sobs.

How she heard Kane screaming at him to "Shut up!" and the sudden silence. The sight of Alexander's lifeless body in his arms. The hours at the hospital and how they had to drag her out of the room. And Kane who never followed them into the ambulance. Protected from any consequences he only broke off the engagement and told everyone their son died in his sleep.

Haymitch's face was ashen. He held Effie who had no more words left, only sobs and he knew why she'd kept this a secret from him all this time.

"It wasn't your fault, Effie."

He wanted her to believe him. To make her see it was the truth. But Effie wept, face hidden against his neck and he knew it was futile. She would never be able to not blame herself for how things went. A feeling he knew all too well.

Maybe they weren't so different after all.

Outside, the Capitol partied on. He heard their shouts and laughter. Whatever day of the week it was they always found a reason to celebrate something. To show to the world how happy and satisfying and perfect their lives were. On the surface, anyway.

Effie looked up at him if only for a moment.

"Take me home."

xXx

News of the former escort's flare-up had spread like wildfire. And even the most self-absorbed among them couldn't keep from staring when they saw her now.

What could compel her to do such a thing? As if the rest of it wasn't enough! Her hair! Her real, reddish blonde hair (not styled in the slightest) flew around her face as she hurried passed with Haymitch Abernathy.

People mumbled amongst themselves and pointed and Haymitch took a firm hold on Effie's hand, pulling her through the crowd.

With someone like Gloria at the head of the group, the Capitol would whisper about them anyway if they never had before. And frankly, he couldn't care less.

They reached the station in the nick of time. Not a minute after they hopped onto the train, the attendants slammed the doors shut. And Haymitch, he had no sooner made the bed in their sleeping car before Effie went over to it. He watched as she burrowed under the covers and that was never a good sign.

He had to think of something.

Chapter Text

The coffee steamed against Haymitch's face when he poured the hot beverage into a thermos. His duffel bag was already over-stuffed and he gazed critically at the gray sky through the window as he tried to force the zipper to close.

His old hipflask stood on the kitchen counter top but he didn't touch it. Today was a day he ought to stay clear-headed. But as soon as he thought it his resolve crumbled and he had a few good mouthfuls before he stalked up the stairs.

Somewhat clear-headed would suffice.

"Eff?" It was close to noon but in his bedroom the curtains were still pulled together. The bed dipped on one side when he sat down and he gave her shoulder a gentle shake. "Effs?"

When she didn't move he went over to her suitcase that stood in a corner. Unpacked. Normally she used garment bags for her dresses but since they left the Capitol in such a rush the clothes were more or less stuffed in. He got out a peach colored outfit and made a feeble attempt to smooth out the creases.

"Effs?" he said as he leaned over her again. He brushed away a few loose strands from her face. "There you are," he said when her eyes finally opened. It took her a moment to focus on him but when he squeezed her hand under the cover she squeeze it back. "Up, up, up, sweetheart. Big day comin' on."

"I'm so tired," she mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. You've been out for two days." He tugged at her arm, helped her to sit. "I've got something for you in the back garden."

"More geese?"

"Nah, they take care of that themselves. Get dressed, sweetheart and meet me outside. It cost a bloody fortune."

And he was gone.

Most of all Effie just wanted to lie down and go back to sleep but for Haymitch's sake she put on the dress and walked downstairs. The cool breeze made her shiver when she got outside and she buttoned her coat.

Someone's blue pickup truck stood parked next to one of the shrivelled flower bushes. Had she lifted her gaze a little higher she would have spotted Haymitch's surprise the moment she got outside.

She sucked in a breath when she turned a corner. Whatever she'd expected it wasn't this.

"Haymitch!" she breathed.

It was a hot air balloon. Just like the ones you saw in the Capitol. A huge, orange hot air balloon with its wicker basket anchored to the ground. The geese honked at it behind their fence and a boy, younger than Katniss and Peeta, smiled and shook her hand.

"Morning, miss," he said in the soft cadence of District 4. Haymitch grinned at the sight of Effie's stunned face.

"What has gotten in to you?" she asked weakly but he just shrugged.

"You said you always wanted to try it."

He extended his hand to help her aboard.

"Alright," the boy said when they were all in and he released the devise that kept them grounded. "Here we go."

Who would have thought District 12 could look so beautiful? The boy heated the air inside the balloon and they floated through the heavens higher and higher.

This was something different than the view from the Capitolium. There was the Meadow sprinkled with yellow leaves. And the Seam with children laughing and running about. Smoke rose from the chimneys. You could see the slag heap. And all the houses and shops in town.

Hazelle and her children who were on their way home all stopped and pointed to the sky. Haymitch lifted his hand in hello and knew all of Twelve were probably already talking about how he finally went crackers.

Soon they left the district behind. The wind brushed through their hair and even the Capitol couldn't have put up a more spectacular show than the woods below them right now, painted in fall colors. A quiet symphony of bright yellow, deep orange, brilliant red and green.

He felt Effie touch his hand and he entwined their fingers together without their young pilot noticing it.

"There it is," he said and pointed.

"I see it," the boy said. He opened the valve at the top of the balloon to let air out and they began their descend. Ahead of them the woods opened into a large clearing, an evergreen, surrounded by the big hardwood trees and with a small lake that reflected the gray sky.

A high branch brushed against the wicker basket when they sailed lower and lower. More branches scratched underneath them and Haymitch hands shot out to steady himself.

"I got it, I got it," said the boy. His gloved hands were on the burner and he released more gushes of fired air into the opening of the balloon. They began to rise but they weren't on a straight line anymore. The contact with the tree tops had steered them too far to the left and they began to sink again. "It's supposed to work," the boy mumbled. He added more fire and there was a hecticness in his motions that hadn't been there earlier.

"You've done this before, right?" Haymitch frowned.

"Um, yes," the boy said but the sheen of sweat on his upper lip betrayed him. "I mean, yes, with mum and dad."

They sunk further and further to the left and all three of them saw where they were headed. Haymitch pushed the boy aside to do it himself but it was already too late and he pulled Effie down and the boy too by the scruff of the neck the moment before the balloon and the wicker basket and all three of them crashed into the biggest tree on the green.

Twigs and yellow leaves rained down on them. The branches ripped through the nylon and the orange balloon shrunk and deflated over their heads.

"I'm sorry!" The boy repeated it over and over. "I'm so sorry! This never happens."

"You OK, Eff?" Haymitch asked and rubbed his elbow.

"I'm fine," said Effie, a little shaken. The wicker basket swayed precariously to and fro and she reached for a nearby branch and pulled herself out of it.

"I swear, this never happens!"

"Yeah,I heard you the first time," Haymitch snapped as he tried to haul himself out as well, with Effie's help. Second nature made him crane his neck to try and spot any tracker jacker nests. When he found none he heaved himself up to a fork in the tree and slumped down with a grunt. He peered through the sparse foliage all the way to the ground. Far, far below.

"Of course, you'll get your money back, sir," the boy said nervously at the sight of Haymitch's expression. "We'll get down. No problem!" He had already started to climb.

"Look out!" Effie called when his foot slid off the bark. Haymitch tried to grab him but he wasn't even close. And the kid crashed down the tree. His shrieks were worse than Effie's, he snug on one of the lower branches, making it snap and he landed on his back with a thud.

"My goodness, are you alright?" Effie shouted.

The boy's eyes flew open.

"I'm… I'm OK," he choked. The fall must have knocked the wind out of him. Slowly he pulled himself to sitting and stared from the tree trunk, now with no lower branches and to Haymitch and Effie trapped half-way to the heavens. He got up on shaky legs. "Don't worry", he said and gave them a wave of encouragement. "I'll go get help!"

“No, not the woods!” Haymitch called, stopping him mid-run. “You’ll get lost for sure. Go wait by the lake! Katniss said she’d go fishing today.”

Wish was a real piece of luck, or they’d be here until Twelve sent out a search party.

But as trees went this wasn't a bad one to be trapped in. It had multiple trunks and many great forks, safe for hosting a misplaced mentor and escort. Maybe they could have made a getaway-down using pieces of the balloon but he really didn’t fancy risking it. It would be a long fall.

He drew a great sigh.

"Should've known this would happen. He was the only one who agreed to come here."

"Was this Peeta's idea?"

"Nope. All my fault. I wanted to take you out on a… you know." He gave a wave of his hand like he couldn't take the word in his mouth.

"A date?"

"Whatever. I wanted to give you something worthwhile. Something I knew you’d like, even if it’s stupid. I brought food and everything. Told him I'd drive that thing m'self but the kid said we'd just wind up in a tree." He heaved a sigh and looked down at the stranded wicker basket. His duffel bag was still in it. "Oh, what the hell," he muttered and pulled himself up.

"Be careful," Effie said as she watched him lower himself down branch by branch and past the orange rag that had once been their magnificent hot air balloon.

And you couldn't believe Haymitch had once used to harvest oak leaves for Madam's wine bottles.

Now he grunted and panted with sweat trickling down his back as he tried to remember any of Katniss's old tricks when she taught him and Peeta how to climb before the third quarter quell.

He reached for his bag, face almost purple before he managed to pull the straps over one shoulder and climb back to Effie. He wiped his hand over his face and hung up the bag.

"No, Haymitch, not…!" But it was too late. And they watched the bag crashed through the greenery just like the poor boy until it landed with a crack when the milk bottle broke inside.

They looked up and at each other and before Haymitch could even say anything Effie smiled. A small smile but it was good to see.

And say whatever you wanted, the view was something!

Whether it was because she was lighter and younger than him or just more accustomed to scurry up and down fire escapes to have sex with chimneysweeps, he had no idea but she was by his side in a minute.

He scooched over to make room for her. It was cramped but he wrapped his arm around her and Effie leaned into his knitted sweater, with only the wind that brushed through the withered leaves.

"I wish I had a picture of him," Effie mumbled. "A sonogram. Anything."

During the time she was at the hospital and back home with her parents after Alex's death Kane moved his things out of her apartment. But that wasn't all.

When she returned she found out that the few pictures she had of her baby were also gone. And when she said she wanted them back – the last time she ever spoke to Kane – he told her he had them destroyed.

Haymitch leaned his cheek against her hair. He knew that feeling all too well. Sometimes he thought about asking the boy to paint his family for him. Terrified he'd one day wake up and not remember what they looked like.

But even if he could go through with telling him all the details, he knew if he woke up from one of his nightmares to his family looking down on him from the wall he would completely shut down. And he wasn't exactly without cracks to begin with.

"Can you forgive me?" Effie's voice was all but a whisper. "For sleeping with someone who helped selling victors?"

She loved her son with all her heart but what happened between her and Kane was one of her many big regrets. The fact that he was only at the beginning of his career back then, hardly even an assistant – despite his pompous boss-like attitude – didn't lessen her guilt.

Alcohol had always had a tendency to make her hot under the collar. And sure, the year she slept with Nicho on the roof they always shared a glass from one of her and Annabel's smuggled bottles. But she would have slept with him either way. Because he was funny and exciting and put dirt all over her pretty dresses. A forbidden fruit.

Years later when she looked back on it she thought the biggest reason why he made her come as hard as she did was because he was Capitol low-class in her parents' eyes. It'd been her own unconcious protest, even if they never found out about it.

She and Nicho parted as friends and she never regretted a single night spent with him.

But Kane? She would never have slept with him sober.

"Forgive you for what, sweetheart?" Haymitch said. "Being taken advantage of? A guy got his way with you cause you were drunk and vulnerable and you're at fault? No. If someone deserves to hang, it's him."

It made even more sense now. Her behavior during the Games. There were people who gladly threw themselves at the victors of Panem. Men and women who collected them like postcards. Little trophies from each Games. And many, many of them would be more than happy to include the victor of the Second Quarter Quell to the collection. You'd think his liquored breath, snarls and general disgustingness would turn them off but no, it had the opposite effect. A sorta "I can save him" reaction, he supposed.

He wouldn't look at them twice when sober. But they could have gotten their way with him after a couple of drinks. Through feels and kisses or by slipping something in his scotch.

Luckily for his sorry ass, anyone who wanted to get to him had to go through Effie first. And she was a wall when it came to these things. Wouldn't let anyone near him when he couldn't give proper consent.

"Didn't know you had a gatekeeper," one of the women had giggled as the peacekeepers escorted her away. "She wants you all to herself, huh?"

A watchdog through and through. You could laugh at it but really he was damn lucky to have her.  Without her he’d probably test positive for every STD the Capitol had to offer.

It really said something about her that she did all that. That she went to such lengths to make sure he was out of harm's way when he was drunk and couldn't think straight.

In other people's eyes, say Katniss or Peeta, Haymitch was the one who protected Effie. But in her own way Effie had looked out for him as well.

"You know, I would've done the same as you," he said. "Gotten married. If I knocked someone up." Somehow it felt important she knew that.

The rain was coming on after all. Like a whisper in the leaves. Haymitch opened his jacket and wrapped it around both of them. Like once before.

"'m sorry for this mess," he mumbled in Effie's hair.

"Don't be," she said. "It was lovely." She leaned into his shoulder and gave a soft sigh. "I wish I didn't have to leave tomorrow."

Then don't, he wanted to say. But the words never left his mouth. He knew he couldn't ask it of her. In the end he only laced their hands together so both his arms were wrapped around her.

He could see the cabin by the lake from here and the image of Tara emerged before his mind's eye.H He felt that old ache that always started in his stomach. A pain that would forever be a part of him. Kind, witty, beautiful Tara. His best friend. His first.

He rested his forehead against Effie's temple and suddenly it was hard to swallow.

He'd always love her. She'd always be his girl.

But Effie. She was the only one left in his pathetic excuse for a life who managed to light even the tiniest flicker of hope in him. Something he feared just as much as he hungered for it.

She was his Effie. His woman.

He never planned to be with someone like her and she probably never planned to be with him. He'd fought the good fight. They both had and they crashed into each other's love life not so differently from how they crashed into this tree. He just hoped he wouldn't end what they'd started the same way.

A mockingjay landed on a branch just near them. Haymitch peered at it and on impulse he whistled a few notes. The bird cocked its head curiously and then whistled the tune back to him. Another mockingjay, hidden in the foliage, picked it up and then another and another.

Until the whole forest sang to them.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

And another year was coming to a close. The surrounding woods of District 12 stood covered in white. Merciless storms whined around the houses and shops and it snowed sometimes all day and all night.

The roads were a constant trouble but Sae's granddaughter Nella's family, the one who owned horses, put Blaze and Misty to good use so the people of Twelve could still go about their business. Katniss, Peeta and Posy built a colossal snow lantern in Haymitch's back garden and Buttercup refused to set so much as a paw outside.

Twelve's mentor always got surlier in winter. Just like the cat he spent most of his days cooped up in the house, a bottle of spirits in one hand and his knife in the other. Effie made him put it away in a kitchen drawer during her visits. Said she wasn't keen on getting stabbed in the middle of the night. But since she hadn't been around in almost two weeks now it had resumed its old purpose. He needed something to hold on to in the night.

With an array of bottles at arm's reach Haymitch stared sullenly at the phone, his head against one of Effie's fancy sofa cushions. Less fancy after he spilled on it. The house without Effie was like a garden without a gardener. Sooner or later it went back to its original state. He just couldn't find a good enough reason to clean up his mess when she wasn't around.

She tried to get some school trip to a district approved and the Board was giving her a hard time. That's why she had to cancel but would it kill her to give him a call now and again?

He lifted the bottle to his lips and grunted when he swallowed the last drops. Why was it, that no matter how many seals he snapped he was always sucking the dregs out of it? He grabbed another and let the empty one roll onto the floor where it clinked against the rest of them.

He turned and shifted on the couch. It was exactly 13 days since he saw her and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this uncomfortable. Even in just his pyjama pants the fabric strained against his business. Hell, you could camp under there.

He knew alcohol withdrawal. Was there anything such as sex withdrawal? Because he was horny pretty much all day long. Phone sex just wasn't the same and Effie hadn't had much time or peace for that lately either.

I won't call her, he thought. What little pride he had left he liked to keep.

That's what annoyed him most about all this. If anyone, Effie was the one supposed to be pining, not him! They'd been together for less than three months and already he'd grown dependent on her!

And it wasn't just the sex. He was better with her. The nights were never easy but he wondered if Effie knew how hard it was to go solo again after he got used to having her arms and legs wrapped around him. Her kisses distracted him and calmed him down faster than a bottle even.

"This is bullshit," he told the ceiling. Real good thinking. Getting hooked on someone who lived 24 hours away. "Bloody woman," he muttered and slipped his hand inside his pyjama pants. "All weird clothes and… s-silly accent." He groaned and screwed his eyes shut.

Lost in his own dirty imagination he never heard the door when it opened and closed.

"Haymitch? You awake? Oh! God, I didn't need to see that."

Peeta. Great. Exactly what he needed. Disgruntled, Haymitch pulled his hand out of his pants and saw the boy stand there with a loaf of bread and his hand over his eyes.

Meddlesome kids.

He tossed a threadbare, old blanket over his groin and sat up.

"Since when did you get so squeamish?" he muttered. "Wotcha expect when you walk into a man's house?"

Peeta peered through his fingers and when he saw his mentor was decent he handed over the loaf, wrapped in a towel. Haymitch muttered out thanks and poured himself a glass of wine. He carved off an uneven slice of the still warm bread that he offered the boy.

"No, thanks, I already ate," Peeta said and watched his old mentor dunk it in his wine. "You know, Haymitch," he said and walked over to the hearth to build up the fire. "If you miss her so much just take the train. Before you get completely chafed."

"Good one," Haymitch muttered. He looked at the boy with a pair of blood-shot eyes. "What day is today?"

"Saturday," Peeta replied. "December 1th. And I spoke with Annie", he added. "We'll go there on the 11th instead. Theresa works all through the holidays."

Haymitch nodded to show he heard. Ever since Tessa moved to the fishing district, her relationship with her daughter had shrunk to a call or two. Mostly just birthdays and Christmas. But she had reached out to the girl this year, or so he heard.

Too little, too late, he thought but kept to himself. He wasn't going to butt in. He left that to the boy. Besides, even if he could come up with something helpful, Peeta would say it anyways and say it a hundred times better.

"Sarah and Cassia will mind the bakery," Peeta went on. "And Annie said if you and Effie want to join, there's plenty of room."

A flame danced up from the coals and so Peeta left his mentor to his own devices. Now was his chance to lock the door and pick up where he left off. He considered it a moment but fuck it, he wasn't in the mood and soon it was going to be dark. Those damn winter nights that went on forever.

He drowned another piece of bread in his glass. He should just drink himself into a stupor and have this day be over and done with. Yeah, he liked the sound of that.

xXx

*ring ring*
Hello, this is Effie Trinket's answer phone. I can't pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I will call you back. Until then: have a very very nice day!
*peep*

*ring ring*
Hello, this is Effie Trinket's answer phone. I can't pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I…

Yes, hello? Effie Trinket.

Hey, Effs. Remember me?

Oh, hi Haymitch. How are you?

Bored. Bit hammered.

Well, of course. Did you eat at least?

When you comin' over, Eff? You never said.

…

Hello?

Yes, I'm here. But Haymitch, I'm afraid I won't make it to District 12 this week. Half the parents are already furious with me and the Board…

So to hell with it. We'll go to Four. Annie says…

It's not for me. It's for the girls. And this trip will happen, I'll make it happen!

You didn't come last week either.

I know.

I …*sighs* I can come over.

Haymitch.

What?

It's not a good idea. I really need to focus on this 100% and you are…

A big, fat distraction.

Exactly! No, I didn't mean it like that. It's just… I won't be home a lot and it would be no fun for you in the Capitol if…

*snorts* Yeah, cause I normally have a blast in the big C. But fine, whatever. Just forget it.

Oh, Haymitch. Don't be like that. I promise I will make it up to you.

*mutters and takes a mouthful of something*

I'll call you tomorrow night, OK?

*mutters continues*

Haymitch…

Alright. Alright. I'm not angry. Not even a little. *drinks another mouthful* I can do without you kickboxing me in bed anyways.

Goodnight, Haymitch. We'll talk tomorrow. And please don't drink too much.

Night, Eff.

*toot toot*

xXx

If Haymitch believed he couldn't be further from Effie's thoughts he was wrong. She missed him dearly.

I should tell him so properly, she thought as she poured herself a glass of water and made a mental note to call him again during her lunch hour.

It snowed in District 12 but here the lamp posts reflected themselves in rain puddles on her street. But the Captiol would let the first snow fall any day now and it might very well be the last time too.

There were serious talk about de-funding the weather control altogether and use the money where it was more needed. It stirred a heated debate in the media. To here the negative voices say it, it would be the final nail in the Capitol's coffin.

As for Effie she found the whole circus rather annoying, especially since she knew something else in much greater need of raised awareness.

With one last critically look in the mirror she reached for her purse on the bed. She knew what Haymitch would say about the bandana but showing up with her natural hair wouldn't win her any points with the school board.

She turned for the door.

And jumped back.

"Haymitch!" she gasped, hand over her heart. "W-what on Earth…?" Because leaned against the doorframe, face puffy and red, stood the man she hadn't laid eyes on in two weeks.

"Thought I'd surprise you," he said. "Believe it or not but I missed you, sweetheart."

He pushed himself off the frame and wrapped his arms around her.

Haymitch, you're hard! Did you drink?"

"Not a drop."

"You're not supposed to be here," she said, voice muffled by his lips. "I told you… I told you, now is not a good time. Haymitch!" she groaned in frustration when he nuzzled her neck. "I don't have time for this. My cab will be here at any moment."

"Five minutes," he mumbled and pecked and licked the tender skin just below her earlobe where he knew she liked to be kissed and Effie groaned again. A different kind of groan this time. "Come to bed, sweetheart."

"Haymitch," she sighed, torn between lust and aggravation. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You are totally ruining my schedule."

They sunk down onto the bed. Effie's carefully painted lipstick smeared out on both their face, their kisses stressed and eager. She fumbled with his belt and Haymitch trembled in every limb when she pulled down his pants, his underpants. Their lips clashed together again and she grinded her thigh against him.

"No! Ohh!" Haymitch got out and before he could even try to rein himself back in he climaxed. All over Effie's skirt.

"Haymitch!" She pushed him off of her and stared at his mess. "I don't believe you!" she hissed and hurled herself out of bed. "This is exactly why I never should give in to you and your goddamn hands, Abernathy!" A car honked outside. "And there's my cab. Brilliant! Just brilliant!"

She locked herself in the bathroom and Haymitch sat on the bed, rather foolish and with lipstick all over his mouth. He heard the sound of water running and soon she returned, flushed and half dressed, hopping about on one leg to try and get out of her silk stockings. He grinned at how sexy and ridiculous she looked.

Big mistake.

"You think this is funny!?" Effie spat. "How would you feel if I shot my bodily fluids on you!?"

That only invited bad jokes but he knew he was one wrong word away from being thrown out so he just pulled up his pants and got out of bed.

"Sorry, Eff," he said and tried to pull her into one of his bear hugs. But he could just as well save his breath.

"Careful," she said and pushed him away. "Before you to blow all your fuses. I have to go."

And she closed herself in the walk-in closet and didn't come out again until dressed in an identical outfit as before, only turquoise this time. "I'll see you tonight," she said when she brushed by him.

He listened to the fading clatter of her high heels and the cab when it drove off a moment later.

This spur of a moment trip didn't go at all the way he pictured it.

He wiped the lipstick with the back of his hand. Last time he showed up unannounced they kissed on her doorstep and he got both her and coffee.

This was something else.

And to come on her leg like a teenager. Course, he wasn't famous for his stamina but he should really be past that point at least.

He sighed and stripped the mattress. Normally he never bothered to make the bed. Effie complained about it all the time. But he'd have a hard time getting back into her good graces as it was so couldn't hurt.

Not that he wasn't used to pissed Effie. He'd spent half his life fighting with that woman. Only reason they hadn't these past few months was because they were both breaking their balls to try and impress each other. Was only a matter of time, really, before they were back to their bickering, old selves. And in a way it was a relief. Familiar ground.

Half an hour later he poured himself a glass of orange juice that he brought with him into the living room.

It would be a long day. He should have brought a book or something. But they spent next to no time here so he never bothered to leave his own stuff around the place like she did in Twelve. Besides, with a butt naked Effs Trinket, who cared about reading?

The glass clattered against his teeth when he drank. He didn't lie when he told Effie he was sober. One positive thing about her job was that he could drink himself blind when she wasn't around and thereby stay sober enough once she was.

Chaff would laugh if he knew his old friend rationed his liquor for a woman but really it made life a hell of a lot easier.

Dawn broke into full morning. He wanted to get some shut-eye while he waited for her but between the shakes and the painful sunshine he wasn't getting much rest.

He rubbed his temples. It was the same each time. The tremors, the headaches. Nausea was next.

And those goddamn mirrors! How many did one person need? He struggled with the blinds, pulled the curtains together but the light was still too bright.

I'm not gonna drink. Not yet. Later. After we've made up and she's asleep.

But Haymitch Abernathy's perseverance had never been strong. Not when it came to alcohol. He soildered on, for an hour, two. But before long he stumbled through her apartment in search for his bag.

He looked in all the usual places. The hallway, her bedroom, the living room, even the wardrobes in case Effie found it and put it away. Cushions flew through the air as he searched the couch, he tore at the curtains despite the evil sun, checked all the window sills, twice.

Nothing.

And then he realized it and headache or no headache he slammed his palm against the wall.

He forgot the damn thing on the train! He'd been so occupied with thoughts of what he was going to do to Effie when he saw her he went and left it on the seat!

Spewing profanities over himself, he stalked off to Effie's drinking cabinet but his indignation just flared up all the hotter at the sight of the empty shelves. Since when had he given her a reason to hide her liquor? Not lately! And it wasn't like Effie had gone and boozed through her entire supply all of a sudden.

He wondered how she would like to see him go cold turkey. Katniss and Peeta could tell her how fun that was.

And all at once, his anger turned to despair. He sunk down onto the couch, his aching head in his hand. An ache for which there was only one cure.

xXx

Maybe I was too hard on him.

Effie climbed out of the cab, umbrella folded in hand. It was dark when she left home and it was dark now. Her breath stood like a cloud in the cold air.

He came all this way.

The apartment was also dark and she turned the lights on with a double clap. A soft clap just in case he was asleep, but she doubed it. He seldom slept this late in the day.

"Haymitch?"

When she didn't found him on the couch she went from room to room, even the gym and library.

Once back in the living room Effie's eyebrows were furrowed together. Did he go back to District 12? No, surely not.

The sofa cushions were all in the wrong places and distractedly she put them back where they belonged.

He must have gone out, she thought. Maybe to walk her home from the Academy and they missed each other. Or perhaps even get her something to make up for this morning.

Yes, he'd show up eventually and she'd already decided not to mention what had happened. She didn't want to spend their night fighting too.

She took a magazine from the rack just as the first few raindrops fell outside. Before long it poured in such relentless sheets you could hardly see across the road even and if Effie thought reading would take her mind off things she was sorely mistaken.

As the hours passed it was impossible not to think about Haymitch trapped out there in the wet and cold. All she could hope for was that he found refuge somewhere. Maybe a coffee house. Yes, Haymitch probably enjoyed a cup right at this moment. No reason to worry.

But Effie was a worrier and worry she did. She sat on the couch, magazine long forgotten and stared out the window.

What if he got lost? Or hurt? Yes, she could see it so clearly. How he crossed the street, soaked and freezing and just desperate to come home to her again. How stupid of me, he'd think, to leave Effie's nice and warm and well-furnished apartment when I could be in her arms right now. I should listen to her more.

But then a car came and Haymitch got hit, of course he got hit! He never looked both ways properly. And now he lay there on the road while the rain washed his blood down the street and the world floated away and the last thing Effie ever did while he lived was to snap and yell, all because of a little ejaculation.

The vivid images had Effie on her feet. Pacing the floor she wrung her hands in distress.

5 minutes, she thought. I'll give him 5 more minutes and…

That's when a pair of head lights sailed across the wall. Effie whipped around and even before the knock she was at the door.

"Evening, ma'am. This man says he lives here."

On her welcome mat stood two police officers. The rain splashed off their uniforms and propped up between them was Haymitch.

He barely noticed what was going on. His head hung low, hair in wet tangles over his face. You could smell the whiskey on him a mile away. Effie watched the man she shared beds with and knew she was an idiot. A complete idiot, even after all these years. Because she never learned, never truly accepted this was how Haymitch ended up. How he always ended up.

"Ma'am?" the officer repeated and snapped her back to reality.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, that's just about right."

They helped Haymitch inside and filled her in on what had happened. Apparently he'd gone to the pub on Heaven's Square. When the bartender finally told him he'd had enough, things got loud, he wouldn't leave and finally she had to call the police to come and get him.

"I'll manage it from here," Effie said when Haymitch leaned heavily on her, swaying from side to side. "Thanks for your help."

The two men nodded. When they walked back to their car, one of them turned to the other and said,

"That was Haymitch Abernathy, right?"

"Yes, I think so. He hasn't changed much, has he?"

And they both chuckled.

"Oh, Haymitch," Effie said as she half-led, half-carried him through the apartment. "I was so worried about you."

"Wanted to see you," he slurred and Effie grimaced at the smell of his breath. It could light a flame. "Better with you, Effie. Better. Oh, " he groaned. "I don't feel so good."

"OK, OK, come here," said Effie. She struggled to open the bathroom door, her hands full with Haymitch until she managed to get them both inside. Haymitch reached blindly for the toilet and for the next half hour Effie held his hair as he puked.

His shirt and trousers were damp from the rain and once she got him on to the bed she stripped him down to his undergarments. She went to get a blanket but changed her mind mid-way and headed for the broom closet first.

Which was good thinking because she had no sooner re-appeared with the bucket before Haymitch groaned again and she stuck it under his face just in the nick of time.

xXx

"Wha… what're…?"

The pounding that had woken him only grew worse as Haymitch slowly came to his senses.

"What're you doing?" he murmured.

"What does it look like?" Dressed in a fresh teacher's outfit, navy this time, Effie walked back and forth across the room, getting her last minute things. Each step of her high heels sent a jolt of pain through his skull.

Very slowly Haymitch pulled himself to sitting. He winced when she snapped her purse shut. A gunshot couldn't have made a greater sound. He rubbed his bare chest and watched her lift a water carafe off the vanity table.

"Oh, thanks, sweetheart," he croaked. His throat felt like someone had dragged it along the asphalt.

Effie eyed him coolly.

"This is for me," she said. "Unless you want to get me pregnant on top of everything else." She swallowed the pill. "Not that I am going to sex you up anytime soon."

Haymitch rubbed his eyes, wished nothing more than to go back to sleep. No, most of all he wanted a drink but he fought the nausea and forced himself to stand.

"What do you want?" she asked when she had his hands on her shoulders. "If you're thirsty, then…"

"Don't shout, sweetheart," Haymitch murmured. "'m sorry 'bout yesterday."

"Do you even remember yesterday?"

He tried to pull her into a hug but Effie resisted, squirmed like she sat on an anthill.

"I have to go."

"It's early."

"To you maybe. No." She pressed her palms against his chest and made him take the empty glass. "Drink water if you need it. Breakfast is on the table."

And he was alone again.

He felt his way to the bathroom like a boat in full storm and spent some quality time with his best friend the toilet.

This was his reality every time he had a withdrawal. Afterwards he always drank more than he could take. He soaked it up like a dry rag.

And later when he sat in one of Effie's armchairs, wrapped in a robe and his hands around a mug of coffee, he tried to piece together exactly what had happened yesterday.

He went out to get his bag. That much he remembered. But he never got that far because… he took the route through Heaven's Square. Yeah, to have a drink at the pub first. And one drink became two and two became three until he was an absolute wreck for Effie to take care of.

In other words, same old same old.

He slurped his coffee.

I should find some way to make it up to her.

xXx

*ring ring*
Hello, this is Effie Trinket's answer phone. I can't pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I will call you back. Until then: have a very very nice day!
*peep*

Haymitch, it's me. I'm running a little late because I bumped into Octavia. She's very upset because her boyfriend just broke up with her. She needs a friend right now so I promised I'd stay with her for a while. But I should be home by eight. You can make your own dinner, right?

"Great," Haymitch muttered. "Just great."

But then he had to caugh again and he whisked the smoke that billowed up from the roast pan.

He'd never win an award as "Chef of the year" (Neither would Effie for that matter) but he cooked when he was a kid! How out of practice could one person get?

He eyed the dish to try and assess the damage. It was supposed to be roast beef with potatoes and vegetables but it didn't look right. Not like the recipe. But maybe if he just cut away the burned parts and jumbled it up a little perhaps she wouldn't notice?

Man, why didn't he just order catering and pretend he made it? A romantic dinner. Fuck, what a bright idea.

The bottles of red wine had stood untouched in their paper bag all night but now he seized one of them. Just a glass. Just to shut his damn body up.

He found the corkscrew, his breaths more rapid at the mere prospect and he sighed with relief when the red liquid wet his tongue.

It was amazing how much easier everything got after that one drink. The tremors disappeared and so did most of his worries. It would still be great. It looked great, at least it would once on the table.

Ten to eight he spread the beige table cloth (champagne coloured, Effie would say) in the dining room that they hardly ever used. He set the table, dug out some candles and the fancy plates.

Last of all he dropped a handful of lemon slices into the water carafe and paused only to pour himself some more wine. He admired his work – the food, the folded napkins, the candle light in the pretty glasses rimmed with gold.

He saluted his reflection and drank.

xXx

By the time Effie pushed inside the apartment it was past midnight. Her head throbbed from having to console Octavia for the past hours and she couldn't stop a moan when she finally got out of her high heels.

All she wanted was to sleep but her hands shook from low blood sugar so she limped off to make herself a sandwich. She opened the kitchen door.

And stopped short. For a full minute she just stared at the scene before her, like she couldn't take it in. Unwashed coppers and pans balanced precariously on top of each other. Used plates, silverware and kitchen tools filled the sink. The counters and the floor were covered with carrot and potato peels, smushed tomatoes, withered lettuce and pools of vinegar. The butter was left to melt, the fridge door not even closed. And the smell of burnt meat she hadn't noticed through the door filled her nostrils.

It was the paper bag, the empty paper bag, that finally brought life back into her numb limbs.

"Haymitch!"

It wasn't hard to find him. She needed only follow his snores. She pushed inside the dining room and there he was. Face down on the table, surrounded by empties.

I should just leave him like this. Go to bed and leave him like this!

"Wake up," she said and shook him.

Haymitch mumbled something and his snores resumed.

"Wake up!" She shook him harder and just when she seriously considered Katniss's cold water method he cracked opened an eye.

"Where you been?" he slurred and slowly lifted his head from the table.

"With Octavia. I told you so over the phone. Haymitch, how could you!"

"There's dinner." He gestured towards the cold food and would have knocked over a candle hadn't she been there to straighten it up. "Made it so you wouldn't be pissed no more."

"Good thinking, Haymitch."

"Just have to heat it up." The chair slammed against the floor when he pulled himself up. "I'll heat it up for you. I'll do an'thing for you."

"Come here now." She tried to steer him away from the table. "Haymitch. Oh, don't bother with the food!" she said when he grabbed the roast pan. To heavy for him in his state it tilted and potatoes, beef and root vegetables bombed the parquet floor. He staggered back a step when she tried to take it from him and the salad bowl smashed to pieces when he bumped in to the table.

"Careful!"

She tugged at his arm and tried to pull him away but his foot slid forward on a piece of tomato and Haymitch slumped down on his ass. He grunted, confused and crawled on all fours as he tried to find his footing.

"Watch out for the broken glass, Haymitch. Come, I'll help you."

She put his arm around her shoulder, her own around his back and under his armpit. "Push with your feet," she said and made a gigantic heave. He was like a sack of potatoes and the smell of wine was so overwhelming it would have brought her dinner up if she had any.

She'd gotten him half way up when Haymitch suddenly gasped and then he vomited all over the floor. A vile, red mixture that splattered Effie's legs and skirt.

She didn't know how she managed to get him back to her bed. But just like the night before he collapsed face down and she stripped him out of his clothes. Vomit dripped down his chin and nose and she wiped him off, rather roughly.

"Do you need to throw up again?" she asked and reached for the bucket. "Haymitch, do you feel sick?"

But he looked at her cross-eyed like he didn't hear or understand.

She left him with the bucket nearby and went into the bathroom to get out of her soiled outfit. But she hadn't gotten even half-way before she had to steady herself against the wall. The lack of sleep combined with the fact she hadn't eaten finally took its toll on her and tiny, black spots swam before her eyes. With no chair closeby she let herself slide down the wall until she sat on the floor, waiting for the dizziness to subside.

Through the ringing in her ears she heard Haymitch's groan.

"Eff. Effs, I…"

And then there was only the splash of vomit when it hit the floor.

Effie closed her eyes.

xXx

*ring ring*

Pallas's Academy. This is Ruby.

I need to talk to Effie. Can you get her to the phone, please? Effie Trinket.

May I ask who's asking?

That's… no one.

She's got class.

Well, it's important. Will only take a minute.

She's got class.

Yeah, I heard you the first time. Tell her … tell her it's Haymitch.

Haymitch … That Haymitch? As in Haymitch Abernathy?

So can you get her to the phone now?

I'm not supposed to interrupt unless there's an emergency.

Well, it is.

It's an emergency?

It's an emergency. Now go get Effie.

Alright. Excuse me a moment Mr. Abernathy.

…

Haymitch? Are you alright?

Yeah, I'm fine. Look Effs, about last night …

Why do you tell Ruby there's an emergency if you're fine?

Only way I could talk to you.

Haymitch, you interrupted me in the middle of class!

I just wanted to say…

I'm not interested in anything you have to say right now! I've barely slept in days, you've ruined two outfits for me and my girls are waiting! Do you have any idea …

Oh, for God's sake woman! Just let me tell you why I called and I'll hang up!

No, I am hanging up! And don't you ever call me at work again unless, of course, you've drunken yourself back into the hospital! Goodbye!

*toot toot*

xXx

The flat audio tone rung in his ear. Haymitch sighed and hung up. He slumped down on the couch and rubbed his forehead.

When he woke today, finding her long gone, he hoped against hope that he could at least clean up his own mess and felt a fresh pang of guilt and regret at the sight of the spotless kitchen and dining room with the strong fumes of cleaning fluids that badly masked the familiar odor underneath.

Poor Effie.

How could he let everything reel so completely out of control? Must be some kind of a record.

Of course, it wasn't the first time she'd taken care of him drunk but she was still just his colleague back then and when he was too much to handle she always had help from the Capitol attendants. To have to clean up his mess as his woman… It was a difference.

And then it was this last, brilliant move of his. To call and apologize. He bent over backwards to fix things and only made it worse.

Maybe I should just go home.

He didn't want this trip to be just like when Annie, Finn and Johanna came over and he made a complete arse of himself. At least then he had some kind of a mitigating factor to his actions.

But he knew Effie. If he left she'd take that as an offence too.

He drew a deep sigh and with nothing better to do he grabbed her newspaper and opened it at a random page.

And as if fate had a hand in it, it happened to be a full spread add. Of a dance palace.

"Atlas Halls open for the Christmas season," he read. The picture showed a bunch of weird looking couples twirling around a winter scene with fake trees in the background.

Atlas Halls? Sounded familiar but he was pretty sure he'd never set foot in the place. No, Effie mentioned it at some point. Yeah, she'd spent New Year's there a couple of times.

Haymitch knew a few Capitol dances, believe it or not. He let Effie teach him years ago. Part of their whole charming sponsors away from their money act. Back when he still thought their district might have a shot in hell.

She'd be home in three hours. That gave him plenty of time.

Because if a night out dancing wouldn't brighten Effie's mood nothing could.

He shouldered out of his robe once inside the bathroom. He didn't exactly smell like roses and he liked Effie's shower. Felt like standing in a warm summer rain.

Of course the products weren't great. She had so many bottles and jars and tubes in here she could open her own beauty parlor. Half the stuff he didn't know what it was for and even the supposedly 'male' scents she bought especially for him smelled weird as fuck.

Finally he poured something blue on his head and as he massaged it into his hair he made a mental note to bring his own stuff next time. That was to say if there would be a next time.

Back home he did nothing to his hair after he showered, just left it to sundry. But if desperate times called for desperate measures. He punched a few buttons on the panel and stepped onto the math so the currents could turn his wet, tangled hair into something he knew he'd hate.

Baked and dried he went to have a look at himself and true enough. His hair had gone from familiar to Capitol. He hung a towel over the mirror so he didn't have to see it.

There was an electric razor on one of the shelves but he didn't touch it. Effie would have to live with his stubble. He looked enough like a Peeta blonde little boy as it was. Instead he went to have a look in his closet. She always sneak bought him stuff. One of the habits she was unable to kick and well, it was her money.

He dumped the garment bags on the bed. Damn, this would be an exhausting night. But he'd suffer through it, the looks and the whispers. He'd dance with Effie and afterward everything would be good again.

Which was why, an hour before Effie went off work, Haymitch sat on the couch dressed to the nines.

And as much as he hated to admit it he actually liked this outfit. The dark blue suit went well with the checkered waistcoat and the lilac dress shirt underneath. Even his pink and blue tie with the matching pocket square looked good. The collar was a little snug but he couldn't afford to be whiny.

He should've thought about this days ago.

But the hour went by and no Effie showed up. He tried to remember how far away her school was. Even if the Capitol was big (not like District 2 or Eleven but still) the public transportation was so advanced here, nothing lay far off. He could call a cab. Go and meet her. But with his luck Effie would be just around the corner the moment he left the house.

So he remained where he was.

The minutes passed at a snail's pace. He tugged at his collar to get some air in.

How many friends with boy trouble did she have? If she was running late again why didn't she call?

One hour became two and still no Effie to go. Sweat trickled down his back and he squirmed and pulled at his pants and underpants that kept worming their way in between his butt cheeks.

And when she'd been gone three hours, Haymitch tore off his tie. Effie was never late like this! It was just her way of getting back at him for how he treated her. He saw his reflection in the window, all those ridiculous curls and that decided things.

Screw this.

He grabbed the spray bottle, the one she used for her potted plants and he sprayed his hair until it lay flat and lifeless again. He had never changed for a woman before and he wasn't going to start now! This was a joke. He was a joke! Dressing up like some damn Capitolian.

She'd been away all day already and she expected him to, what? Lay jigsaw puzzles until she had time for him? Because obviously she didn't have time for him. She just spent it with everyone else.

His hair dripped on the newspaper when he scribbled down a note. He could just as well go restack his liquor supply for the journey home. He almost never got to drink those expensive brands. Effie refused to buy them for him. Said she wouldn't "enable him", like that made a difference what so ever.

By the time he reached the Heaven's Square it had started to rain again.

The shops and stores lit up the icy drizzle and the stall owners who packed up for the day.

And cramped in between a music store and a shop which sold naughty underwear, was the pub. Like a jewel with its bright colors and promises.

But Haymitch never got that far. Because now he saw her.

By the window inside the coffee house sat Effie across from Katniss's prep team. Haymitch's brow crinkled at the sight of their serious faces and Effie's waving hands in the air to emphasize her words. None of them had noticed him yet, standing out here in the rain.

But now she looked up, startled at the sight of him and excused herself from the table.

"Haymitch?" The cold wind rustled her skirt when she appeared at the door. "You… dressed up?"

Haymitch looked from her to Octavia, Flavius and Venia who practically misted the window in their effort to see what happened.

"Having fun?" he said. "Do carry on. I was just leaving."

"Haymitch, I … Haymitch?" But he had already stalked off. "Haymitch, wait!"

He knew it was childish but he didn't stop. He just couldn't. He felt vomit at the back of his throat and it was the look on the prep's faces. No doubt she had poured out all her heart's bitterness over him to those three, telling them what a good-for-nothing drunk he was.

He kicked off his shoes in the hallway.

Haymitch!" Effie called when she entered a moment later, flustered and with rain in her hair. "Why did you run off like that?"

"Sorry if I messed up the image, princess", he said and shouldered out of his jacket. "I know how much you care about your looks. Must be important when you have little else."

"Why are you like this?" Effie cried. "We just had a coffee!"

"Yeah, sure. What's another three hours when I've already waited all fucking day, Effie!"

"Well, I told you not to come this week, remember? I told you I was busy!"

"At work," he threw back at her. "Not out on the town. Bet you had a great trash-talk."

"We didn't talk about you! Not at all! But perhaps I didn't want to come home, ever thought of that? You haven't exactly been a lot of fun lately."

"What do you want from me? I was gonna take you out dancing."

"That doesn't make up for the horrible way you've acted!" Effie yelled. "Ever since you got here, Haymitch, I've been nothing but worried, disappointed and exhausted. Taking care of you drunk is not my job anymore! It never was!"

It got very quiet after Effie finished.

"Eff," Haymitch finally said, his face hard and closed off. "I know you shouldn't have had to deal with all that. But it's not like it was some big mystery to you that I drink. I'm tired of this argument, alright. This is who I am. If you can't deal with it then…"

"Well, maybe I can't!" Effie cried.

She never meant to say it but now the words were out.

The truth was out.

Haymitch stared at her in the silence that followed those words and all the things she implied. Effie's eyes were filled with tears now and when he didn't speak she only got out of her painful shoes and said,

"You can have the bedroom. I can't sleep with that smell anyway."

Chapter Text

"I already told you, Mr. Abernathy. It won't be enough. You need stitches."

Chapter Text

"'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.

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's 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 the bottle.

And Frieda's hands shot out, like a viper. Haymitch shrieked, tried to fend for himself but her hand locked around his jaw and Boris tipped the bottle 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 Haymitch ran off, blinded by tears.

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 happened 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 hurled 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 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 carpet," 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 alcohol 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 of it. 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.

Chapter Text

*ring ring*

… What?

*swallows back a sob* Haymitch? Haymitch, it's me.

Ah. There she is. Long time no princess. What can you want?

I'm sorry. I know I should have called you a long time ago.

Oh, I remember that voice. Effs Trinket needs a shoulder to cry on, huh? So she goes to good ol' Haymitch. Course. *takes a mouthful of something* It's too bad mine're all the way down here then. Both of 'em.

I can take the train. If I go now I ought to be…

Here in a day. Yeah. And I'm supposed to just welcome you with open arms?

Haymitch…

That's my name.

I really must speak to you. It's im…

What for? I'm a dead-end drunk, remember?

I've never called…

No, that's right. Your words were much fancier.

I know you're angry. This is not easy for me either but…

I'm fine, sweetheart. Just fine. Can't ruin a life that's already ruined, right? I s'pose you want all your crap back? Yeah, the kids have it. They think you're gonna come back, you know. "When hell freezes over", am I right? But you know Peeta. I'll just tell 'em to send it over straight away so you never have to set your foot here ever again. Great, huh?

You left me, Haymitch! I didn't want you to go! I didn't want it to end!

Could've fooled me. *twists the top of another bottle* And don't you worry your pretty head, sweetheart. You'll get over it. Trust me. Soon you're gonna find some nice, wholesome guy who does exactly what he's told. It'll be all: "Yes, Euphemia. No, Euphemia. Whatever you say, Eu…"

Don't call me that! Haymitch, please! Mrs. Q, she… she tried to… I need you! If you care about me at all…

Oh, I cared about you. A lot. More than a lot. Should've fucking known better. So why don't you call Plutarch or Octavia or any other of your friends and just leave me alone. Cause I owe you nothing. Nothing at all.

*sobs* I'm so stupid.

Have a wonderful life, Eff. I'm sure you're gonna be deliriously happy.

*toot toot*

xXx

There was still some broth left. Katniss slipped her flask into a jacket pocket and poured a second mug.

The storm had finally blown itself out, for now anyway, but one look through the window quelled all hope for a hunting day. No point roaming the woods for sustenance when the snow lay waist-deep.

She fed Buttercup her last piece of bacon and carried the mug into the living room.

"I'm going to the bakery."

Nightmares had made Haymitch kick all the cushions off the couch again. He lay on his side with the knife cradled against his chest like some scary version of a teddy bear.

"There're scrambled eggs if you want it," Katniss said. "And some bacon. I left it on the stove."

She couldn't set the mug down. Wasn't enough space on the coffee table and Haymitch grunted at the sound of glass against glass when she tossed the empties in the container by the door.

He muttered something she couldn't make sense of and pulled his arm up over his eyes to ward off the light from the one lamp.

"Drink the broth at least." She placed the cup at arm's reach and was gone.

It was almost a month now since Haymitch set up camp on their couch. One day mid-dinner he just staggered into their living room and he hadn't left since.

He was decent enough to not completely trash the place but still, you didn't want Haymitch Abernathy for a roommate. He was hard enough to deal with nextdoor.

Katniss couldn't stand it being at home these days. Haymitch woke both her and Peeta almost every night with the agonized sounds he made in his sleep and daytime was no better.

Their mentor, hollow-eyed and shrunken on the couch – it all reminded her too much of her mother and Katniss fled when she couldn't help. She kept to the woods as much as possible and if not the woods the bakery or the Hob or Hazelle's.

Anywhere but home.

When they finally asked him if it wasn't time he moved back to his own house, they cleaned it for him, Haymitch only shot them a long look, like a dog they had just mistreated and rolled over so he faced the couch.

"She's there," that's all he muttered.

And what could they do? Not tie him up and dump him somewhere. He was their mentor and they already owed him more than they could ever repay.

They had known something was off the moment they got home, the day before Christmas Eve.

They walked up the old pathway, loaded with bags and the first thing they saw when they passed Haymitch's house was the Christmas tree lying in the snow, still green and frosty and covered with ornaments. Like someone had just thrown it out the door.

And it wasn't the only thing.

In the ever-growing light they saw the ground littered with items. Towels and bed sheets and bath robes lay in bundles, all frozen stiff. Soggy, old newspapers and magazines too, blown apart by the frisk wind.

Her clothes were everywhere, along with an endless number of bottles and jars and other beauty products half-buried in the snow. They found napkins and slippers, perfume bottles and pillows. Hairbrushes, tea cups, blankets, curtains, shower curtains, even anagrammed towel hangers attached to chunks of the bathroom wall.

The state of his house was even worse, like a twister had gone through it. They asked him about it but Haymitch was a closed book.

Then, of course they found Effie's note on their kitchen table and it wasn't hard to piece together what had happened in their short absence.

They wanted to help. Of course they did. Only, how? Wasn't like they could change what had already happened or say anything to make it better.

Not that Peeta didn't try to talk to him. Talk at him. Finally Katniss stepped up and said, not unkindly,

"Just leave him be."

Haymitch had said next to nothing the whole time but when Katniss and Peeta turned to leave he stopped them in their tracks.

"Just so we're clear," he said and looked Peeta straight in the eye; a feat considering how intoxicated he was. "You don't get any ideas 'bout calling the Capitol, alright. I mean it, boy. This is my wreckage."

Sun set early this time of year. For the remaining hours, Katniss and Peeta dug for treasures in Haymitch's garden, until they had to squint in order to see. And even then some of Effie's belongings would probably not be found until Spring.

They brought it all back to their house. Silently, Peeta filled the sink with hot water and suds and washed the plates and glasses and tea cups while Katniss stood at the ready with a towel, both of them deep in thought.

Back in District 4, when Peeta gathered her in bed, he had teased her about their cosy, up-coming Christmas. Painted her pictures of Effie plaguing both her and Haymitch with her bright holiday spirit and bringing them gifts – wrapped in regular wrappings so she didn't technically break Haymitch's rule of "no Christmas presents."

Dinner at the Hob would follow where Effie would spend about two thirds of it clucking over Haymitch's table manners and Haymitch stating he should just hire her voice to cut his turkey for him and "we're not doing this again, that's for sure", all the while not quite able to keep his hands to himself.

"And then they'll top the evening with a see-through excuse like 'I'm gonna go get a bottle' or 'I am simply exhausted. Do you mind if we call it a night?'," Peeta finished and grinned at Katniss who squirmed like a worm in hot ashes.

It just felt good to make fun of their mentor being happy for once. Happy with Effie.

Now, everything was in ruins and tomorrow would be just like any other day, with Haymitch drunk and getting drunker.

Not that Christmas had ever been a busy affair in the Victor's Village. They had dinner and that was pretty much it. A slightly fancier one, perhaps, with about a 50% chance of Haymitch joining. He only ever showed up last New Year's because of Effie.

Because of Effie. That phrase applied for many aspects of Haymitch's life, didn't it? He'd deny it but just the fact she got him to even consider drying out pretty much said everything.

"Maybe we should call her," Peeta wondered, not sure himself.

"But you heard him," Katniss said. "This is none of our business. And they'll come around, eventually."

They were both so used to their mentor and escort's antics. Those stubborn, old fools were always at each other's throat and through and through they found a way back to one other. Back at each other's side.

This too would pass, surely? Sooner or later, one of them would swallow their pride and pick up the phone.

And while Katniss and Peeta waited for that call they stored Effie's things for safe-keeping, well out of Haymitch's sight and stopped asking questions.

But February rolled to a close with dark days and even darker nights. Life in Twelve was just one storm after another and people were forced to seek shelter at the Hob so as not to get lost in them. The vixen's cry echoed in the night and Katniss and Peeta stored up on candle sticks for the blackouts.

March came with the deceiving breath of spring only to bury the district in a second winter. Hazelle's kids put her on bed rest after a sprained ankle. Brooks gushed in plentiful streams under the ice and an apple-cheeked Katniss returned from the woods, game bag loaded with wild turkey.

April arrived with warmer weather. Tiny greens peeked in people's gardens and the patches of last year's grass grew bigger for each day. Water dropped down every icicle and town's kids and Seam kids alike melted snow in water barrels to make the spring come faster.

Everyone kept busy. It was a time of change, of rebirth. Winter was finally over and it had a rejuvenating effect on everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

Effie's name was never mentioned and yet she was ever present. If an outsider walked past and saw Haymitch on the couch he might think "same old, same old". But Katniss and Peeta were family and they knew him better than that.

Haymitch had never been an easy person to deal with and definitely not a happy-go-lucky one. But every once in a while, if he had a couple hours of dreamless sleep it was like he got an energy boost.

That's when he got up, checked on the geese, helped Peeta in the bakery, maybe just had a hot meal down at the Hob before he returned to his bottles.

Now, it was like he didn't care about anything anymore. He just lay on the couch, drinking and God help the one who bothered him. He only ever left for the bathroom breaks or when his liquor ran out.

But even that came to an end.

It happened when Haymitch staggered into the Hob on a Sunday morning.

"Usual," he slurred and tossed handfuls of money on Ripper's bar counter.

"Sorry, Haymitch. You're too early," she said. "The train doesn't arrive until Monday. We're all out now."

"Usual!" Haymitch repeated, louder this time like she was slow. Sighs rose from around the tables.

"It's Sunday," Ripper told him patiently. "Come back tomorrow and I'll get your bottles. I can't sell it to you now because we're out."

She couldn't make him understand. Each time she tried Haymitch only got surlier. "Wha's the problem?" he whined. "I have money. Wha's the problem?"

He scared some of the little kids eating breakfast with their parents. The temperature in the diner seemed to have dropped twenty degrees and finally a gray-haired old man muttered, loud enough for Haymitch to hear it,

"Who'd have thought we'd ever wish for that fancy sow to come back?"

That's when Haymitch wielded his knife. He was so drunk it was pathetic but for Ripper that was it! She kicked him out and told him either he left his knife at home or he would have to get someone else to buy him his liquor.

From then on, Katniss and Peeta stocked up his supplies and Haymitch found even fewer reasons to get up.

What for?

Maybe it would have been better, Katniss thought. Less cruel, if he never got those precious few months with Effie. Because losing her, losing her altogether and not just as a lover, seemed to have opened a crack in his rock bottom and pushed him down that hole as well.

And Effie, how was she doing?

xXx

May. God, he hated May. Ever since he turned twelve, the month right before the Hunger Games was nothing but a ticking clock. Even now, years after the war had ended, there were still times when he started awake, thinking,

Reaping day's almost here!

He couldn't sleep. While he marinated his liver a bug had detoured in to the house and was now buzzing about in the window.

The sound unnerved him because the bloody thing just wouldn't give up! It bumped and thumped against the glass over and over again, yearning for freedom.

It was Peeta's damn fault. He always opened a window when it rained.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright, alright," Haymitch growled and swung his legs off of the couch.

It was a wasp. Not the tracker jacker kind, just a regular one. It crawled along the window sill, flew into the glass once more and wiggled it's antennae in irritation.

"Out with you now," Haymitch muttered as he struggled with the window hooks. "Be free." And watched the bug disappear.

The night air felt balmy against his skin. He took his time unscrewing the lid on the silver hip flask. The geese were quiet for a change but the mockingjays were still up, frisky and begging for company. He ran his hand through his wild beard and drank the flask dry. It didn't take long.

He was just looking for something to fill it up with when he heard the sound. One even his soaked brain could place.

A phone. Ringing.

His mind jumped to Effie and he could've kicked himself for it. He resisted the desire to slam the window shut and closed it before he returned to the couch. The coffee table held nothing but empties. They clinked under his fingertips until he found one with some in it. He lifted it to his lips and greeted the burn with a sigh of relief.

Outside, the ringing continued. Even with the window closed, there was no escaping it.

It's not her. Why'd she call now? No reason for her to call now.

After what felt like 10 years, the phone silenced. The knot in his stomach eased somewhat and after he promised himself to tear the phone out the wall as soon as the sun rose he walked over to the cabinet and peeked inside.

"Thank you, kids," he mumbled at the welcomed sight. He grabbed same bottles at random and brought them back to the couch. But before he got the chance to flop down on his ass-print the phone went off again.

"Oh, fuck me," he wheezed.

Who called him at three in the morning? No, strike that. Who called him, period?

Sweat trickled down his sides in never-ending streams. The sound played on his nerve strings like a violin. It was the wasp all over again because the caller, whoever it was, didn't give up. Refused to stop until he did something about it.

A hundred whispered insults spilled over Haymitch's lips as he pulled on his shoes.

He hadn't seen the inside of his house in months. The last time he was here had been a fucking nightmare. Broken furniture, broken everything.

The long, hard signals cut through the stillness like a knife.

It's not her.

He picked up the phone and the blare of music nearly ripped her ear drum. He held the thing a meter away.

"Hello?" someone called. "Helloo?"

He brought the phone closer.

"Who is this?"

"Well, hi to you too!" the person laughed. It was a woman's voice. One he recognized, only he couldn't quite place it. From the Capitol at least. "How's the bachelor's life treating you, Haycock?" the stranger woman asked. When he didn't answer she went on, "It's me, Gloria! Gloria Highgrass. We met at Octavia's birthday party, remember? Yellow dress. Good-for-nothing cousin by my side."

Haymitch drew a silent sigh. Of course.

"Where you've been hiding, hm?" she asked. "Haven't seen you in a while. Finally tired of your afternoon delight?"

"Why don't you go fuck yourself."

"Oh," Gloria chuckled. "You kiss your bottle with that mouth? What would Effie said?"

Her words drew giggles. Clearly, they had an audience and he was just about to slam the phone down when she said,

"I just saw her, that little cock-warmer of yours. And between you and me: I don't blame you for leaving. What a mess, haha! You screwed her up good, Haycock! She's so unfuckable now! Well done, sir. Well done."

And her brilliant laughter hammered his head.

"Do you know we all placed bets on how long the two of you would last? It's true! You cost me a fortune, Haycock! You guys stuck it out way longer than I thought. And then my useless cousin told me about your little scene at the train station. 'Get your shit together' and all that. God, I wish I was there!"

She had a sip of something and then rallied on,

"You wanna know what I think? I think she planned the whole thing. So you'd never leave her. Too bad she forgot that district scum scurry off like cockroaches once the light's on. Well, she's paying for it now, isn't she? How'd she tell you? Before or after you cleared out?"

It was a wonder the phone didn't break in Haymitch's fist. He could hardly breathe, that's how furious he was. But he refused to give this woman the satisfaction of him losing his temper.

"Hey, lady," he said, in a very measured voice. "If you know something about Effie, spit it out. Or else you can just stop wasting my time and go back to your pathetic little life."

That finally silenced her. For about three seconds.

"You don't know?" she said. "You kidding me? He doesn't know!"

And everyone on the other end broke down in hysterical laughter. Gloria contained hers just long enough to say,

"Come back to the Capitol, Haycock! See for yourself!"

And she slammed the phone in his ear.

He couldn't stand another second in this place. Her things may be gone but he still felt Effie's presence in every corner of the house. Like fumes slowly killing you.

He didn't realize how much his hands trembled until he was back on the couch. He balled them into fists.

The nerve of that woman! "Come see for yourself." The hell's that supposed to mean?

He needed a drink. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and tipped the first bottle he found in to his mouth, again and again until he came up choking.

The liquor numbed his worries like they numbed everything else.

"You screwed her up good." Yeah, that's likely. He didn't fancy himself being important enough to lose even a minute's sleep over.

Maybe so. But you're not the only bad thing that's happened to her. Remember?

"She's fine," he told the empty room. "Just fine." Probably thrived now that she didn't have to deal with him anymore. That low-life Gloria Highgrass was just fucking with his head. She wanted to cause a spectacle, get some gossip material, that's all.

If Effie was in any kind of need all she had to do was pick up the phone and call him.

Besides, wasn't like she kept in touch to see how he was fairing. It was damn clear she didn't want anything to do with him anymore. And if she didn't care, why should he?

Yeah, he thought and reached for the next bottle. Let her deal with her own demons.

xXx

If Haymitch thought he was the only one up he was wrong. Katniss slept a deep slumber for once but all the creaks and groans coming from the floorboards downstairs finally wormed their way into Peeta's dreams until he flinched awake.

The room burned with morning light. Peeta's heart pounded in his chest but he remained still so as not to disturb Katniss while he listened to the sounds below.

It wasn't the first time Haymitch "ghosted the halls". Peeta remembered it especially well from their train rides together and back at the penthouse during the Games.

Sometimes it seemed like Haymitch just couldn't stand to remain in the same place, locked inside his own head. And that's when he stalked from room to room, aimlessly. Like a bear in a cage. Well, a bear with a bottle in its paw.

No, it wasn't the first time but it was the first time in a while. And he used to go to bed with the sun so what was he still doing up?

At least with Haymitch on the couch, you knew where you had him. Finally Peeta carefully extracted himself from Katniss and slipped out of bed, just to check on him. That wouldn't be a first either.

He reached the foot of the stairs just as Haymitch returned in to the living room, surprisingly sober. Sobered up. He sunk down on the couch, elbows on his knees. He never noticed Peeta. His eyes were squarely focused on something in his hands.

Peeta couldn't tell what it was at first but then Haymitch shifted it over and the penny suddenly dropped.

It was a paper goose. The paper goose. He knew it well because it used to sit on the window sill back in his studio. Haymitch must have ventured inside and stumbled upon it by co-incidence.

Effie's paper goose. Well, Haymitch's really since she gave it to him.

Peeta remembered the day she made it. It was the summer Haymitch had brought her here after the over-dose.

She had one of her good days and joined them for breakfast in the studio. He painted, Katniss ate cheese buns, Haymitch doodled a horrible caricature of Effie and in exchange she made him this little origami creature.

A good day in an ocean of bad ones.

Shortly after, the night terrors sent her in a down-ward spiral again and just to keep her from clocking out Haymitch said he thought about getting some geese. What'd she think?

The idea probably originated from Chaff. Eleven's victor loved everything made from the bird. Roast goose and buttered potatoes, corned goose hash, fried eggs with mushrooms.

Those were the dishes he ordered at the training centre before the third Quarter Quell and if memory didn't deceive Peeta he even told Caesar Flickerman after he was crowned victor, that he liked to raise geese once he returned to District Eleven.

Now he never really got that idea off the table. Instead, Haymitch did. Well, sort of. None of his birds had ever wound up on a plate.

In any case, Peeta bet the whole "let's go to Eleven" adventure wasn't motivated by some great desire to buy geese. That's just what Haymitch had her believe. Because for whatever reason Effie lived up a little whenever she got to plan things. It gave her a sense of control.

It was slick how he played it. Made her think "This will be good for Haymitch" when really it was "good for Effie". Something to keep her mind occupied. His own way to try and coax her out of her depression.

A hundred memories drenched up by one paper bird. That's what Peeta witnessed this very moment. Haymitch could have crushed it easily. Just made a fist and tossed it on the fire. He tossed everything else that even vaguely reminded him of her.

He didn't. The way he held it, you'd think it was one of his goslings and he had a look on his face that would not have been there, had he known someone was watching.

"Morning," Katniss yawned as she walked in to the kitchen, hours later. Peeta stood by the stove, quietly pouring hot water through the tea leaves. She reached for the jug of orange juice to set it on the table. "Where's Haymitch at? I didn't see him."

"On the train."

Katniss stopped, eyebrows lifted.

"You sure?"

In answer, he pointed at the table and she discovered the note, jotted down on a scrap of paper.

I'm gonna go see Effie. Call her and tell her I'm coming, OK? Thanks.

"You talked to her? What'd she say? What?" she asked at the look on Peeta's face.

"I tried, for about an hour," he said. "I can't get through. The phone's disconnected."

xXx

Gem of Panem
Mighty city
Through the ages, you shine anew

Intertwined with their laughter, the Capitol anthem echoed around the deserted city. Morning light stretched their shadows into four giants as they walked down the street, arm-in-arm. Their makeup was smeared, the flowers in their outfits drooping. All evidence of what a smash hit the night had been!

We humbly kneel
To your ideal
And pledge our love to you!

Coriana's voice rose highest of them all, the only member in their quartet who could hit all the high notes, drunk or sober, but they all joined in just as merrily with the voice they had.

Gem of Panem
Heart of justice
Wisdom crowns your marble brow

It felt good, comforting, to chant the age old verses of their childhood. The real anthem of Panem. The politically correct atrocity Paylor whipped together didn't hold a candle to it!

You give us light
You reunite
To you we make our vow

Tipsy to say the least, Priscilla wobbled dangerously in her sky-high heels but each time she careened to far to the left, they steered her right again with many giggles and "Oopsy-daisy!"

Gem of Panem
Seat of power
Strength in peacetime, shield in strife

"Oh, this is my favorite part!" warbled Imogen who couldn't carry a tune with a gun to her head.

Protect our land
With armored hand
Our Capitol, our…

Lancer gasped, mid-through the final crescendo. Linked with the others he almost toppled them over at sudden halt.

"My gracious!" he said. "It's Haymitch Abernathy!"

Up ahead, a man had just appeared round a corner. Ruffled clothes, hair hanging forward, everything about him completely out of place here. He paid them no attention but it was him, without a doubt. The drunken traitor of District 12.

"You heard about him and Effie Trinket, right?" Imogen asked in a loud whisper.

"Of course we heard," said Coriana. "The whole town knows."

"Ugh. Just look at him." Priscilla wrinkled her nose. "At least on television he dressed decently. Disgusting!"

"She's the one who's disgusting," Lancer said and pursed his lips. "He's district. What did you expect? But a Capitolian really should know better."

"I would jump off a cliff if it was me!"

"It could never be you, Imogen, the very thought!" said Coriana. "What's he doing here again? Flaunting himself on our streets after what he did. What they did!"

If Haymitch heard them he didn't show it and he didn't change his course. When they remained shoulder to shoulder, gawking at him he sawed right through them like they were a flock of pigeons and they jumped apart with furious cries.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" Priscilla shouted to his back. "I really think you should!"

Those four weren't the only ones who questioned what Haymitch was doing in the Capitol. Had there been one positive consequence of him and Effie breaking up it was that he would never have to see this place again.

Well, the joke's on him.

She's not back on pills, he told himself as he kicked a squashed ice cream cup far up the street. She promised she wouldn't go down that road again.

The train ride was hell on earth. Throughout the long hours he failed to quiet his mind, to shake off his worries over Glorias's words and why he couldn't get a call through to Effie. Just thinking about their impending reunion made him sick, until he finally caved in to the bottles in his duffel.

Ironically, the one thing that stopped him from drinking himself completely senseless was the paper goose, now hitching a ride in his pocket. It helped him focus.

Walking the deserted avenues, through glitter and serpentines left from some party only reminded him of the first time he came here unannounced.

Little Ms. Hypocrite. She was one to talk about having someone almost die in your arms.

But she's not back on pills.

The brightness of the sun reflected in the candy buildings, the lush public gardens alive with bird song, the bounty flowerbeds, the gushing fountains. It was like the Capitol mocked him with its splendor. Days like this were Effie's favourites.

And there her building was. He saw it over the roof tops, windows reflecting bits of the blue sky. With a grimace, Haymitch slowed his steps like he'd run out of gas.

Fuck it. He needed a drink. One more or less, what did it matter? He wasn't going to stay here long anyway.

He was still struggling to close the zipper as he entered her street, her curb. He pulled the straps over his shoulder, about to give the door a knock.

And he just stared. Dumb-founded, for half a minute or more. Gaped at her front door, like the gaggle of fools he passed earlier.

No, no this can't be right, he thought, unable to take in what his eyes were telling him. It's gotta be a mistake.

The name plate on Effie's door was gone. The window shutters were all closed. He turned the handle. It wouldn't budge. He rang the bell. He knocked, pounded rather. No one opened. The place was completely dead.

But it made no sense! Effie had lived in this apartment almost all her life!

He walked over to the windows, shielded his eyes from the sunlight as he tried to peer through the shutters for any movements inside.

"Eff?"

He returned to the door, raised his hand for another knock.

"She's not here," a voice rung out.

He turned at the sound. On the other side of the road, just across from him, stood an old lady. The same dry twig of a woman he'd seen twice before. At least twice.

"Mr. Abernathy," she said. The sun glinted off the gem stones in her wrinkled cheeks. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Didn't think I would ever see you here again."

He crossed the road.

"The hell's going on here? Where's Effie?"

The woman's pale green eyes pierced his. She had to lift her chin to do it. Just like Sae she barely cleared his shoulders but that's where the similarities ended. Because this woman's eyes held none of her warmth or gaiety.

And yet, behind the frost he noticed that same sadness he'd seen there before. Only not for him.

"I warned her", she said. "I told her from the very beginning not to get involved with someone like you. A man who would give her nothing but heartache. But she never heeded my advice. She didn't want to listen."

"Here's an idea," Haymitch cut her off. "How 'bout you quit playing games with me and tell me what you know."

"I blame myself," the woman continued, unfazed by the interruption. "I insisted she applied for an escortship. If she became an architect like she first wanted, she wouldn't be where she is now. Maybe none of us would."

"Who are you?" Haymitch demanded. "What's your name?"

"Mrs. Quinlan."

Quinlan? He had definitely heard that name before. Nothing Games related, at least he didn't think so. No, Effie had mentioned her at some point. Yeah, at the hospital, after her rescue. She asked if she was still alive. If she was safe.

Mrs. Q.

"You're Eff's landlady."

The woman shook her head.

"Not anymore."

"Because you kicked her out."

"She's beyond my help," Mrs. Quinlan said. "Euphemia was a good girl, Mr. Abernathy. A good daughter. I have wept blood for her sake but I never gave up on her. Even after the war. She got one last chance to make amends. To build up a life for herself that she could be proud of. And she went and threw it all away the moment she decided to keep your young."

Haymitch heard the words, loud and clear, but it was like he couldn't absorb them. Make sense of what she just said.

It was like when he was little and broke his arm, falling down a tree. They all saw it was broken but it didn't hurt. Not straight away. Like the shock was so great nothing registered.

"'Keep my young?' he rasped. Heat rose up his throat and face until it burned. "What do you mean 'keep my young'?"

For the first time, a flicker of surprise registered on Mrs. Quinlan's face.

"Where is she?" He didn't think his voice would carry at all. Instead it echoed around the buildings. "If not here, where's she staying?"

"Go home, Mr Abernathy," she said. "You have done enough damage as it is."

"If you don't want me to wake the entire neighborhood, you tell me where she is!"

Sleepy heads already poked out windows at the commotion. There were murmurs, curious looks thrown their way. Mrs. Quinlan's lips pressed into the same tight line.

"She moved in with Caesar Flickerman's daughter. I assume I don't have to tell you which one."

xXx

The bearded dragon slumped on her favorite spot in the vivarium - a gnarled old tree root and basked in the warm rays slanting through the windows.

When they first got her she fitted in your pocket. Now they had to use both hands to carry her properly. Sandy yellow and with a look on her face like "you're all beneath me" you'd think she was the distant cousin of a certain District 12 cat but it was only an illusion.

"Hey, you," June said and slipped a hand inside the enclosure, knuckles down, fingers outstretched in an inviting gesture. The reptile crawled down the root and over to her. June gave her a soft scratch under the spiky chin and the animal climbed up her palm.

Annabel sat by the secretary desk, her tea long cold and forgotten, but when June passed, she took the time petting their dragon before she returned to her letter. She eyed what she'd just written, critically and gave a deep sigh.

"They won't even…"

"They will," said June. She had settled on the couch with the dragon on her lap. The animal closed her eyes under the soft strokes.

It had been a quiet, docile morning with just the occasional car passing by and the gentle scratch of pen against paper.

"The crates should arrive today," said June and reached for her own cup of tea.

Right on cue the bell rang.

"Speaking of the devil," said Annabel. She set the pen down and slowly and painfully flexed her fingers.

It rang again, on her way through the hallway.

"Coming!" She pulled her hair back in a hasty pony tail. A shadow moved behind the frosted glass. She took the chain off the door.

And came face to face with the victor of District 12.

"Mr. Abernathy," she said, eyebrows lifted. "I…"

He didn't let her finish.

"Effie," he said. His face was a deep red. "She here?"

"Bel?" June's voice fluttered in from the living room.

"Is she here?" Haymitch repeated, the fury behind the words only barely contained. "Never mind that. I know she is."

"She's here, Mr. Abernathy," said Annabel.

That's all he needed. He pushed past her.

"Eff?" he called as he stalked into the living room. June had risen, face white as paper. The dragon's tail flailed between her cupped hands at the sudden alarm.

Annabel had followed inside and he turned on her again.

"I know all about it," he spat. She could smell the hard liquor fumes on him. June quickly set the reptile back in the safety of the vivarium. "I know she's pregnant so don't try and lie to me!"

"I'm not lying to you."

"Where is she?"

"She's resting."

"Well, go and wake her up!"

"Mr. Abernathy," she said, voice suddenly firm. "You will not shout in my house."

"I don't care! She thought she can just have my kid and never tell me? Who the hell does she think she is!? I wanna talk to her. Give her a piece of my mind!"

"Not until you've calmed down!"

"The hell with you! I'll go find her myself."

He turned for the door but she was right at his heel.

"Stop it!" June cried when Haymitch shoved Annabel's hand off of him. The tea cup knocked over and crashed against the floor. The dragon ran frantically around in its cage. "Stop!"

"Get your fucking hands off me!"

"Haymitch, what are you doing!?"

Her cry made them all turn. Flushed and out of breath from the rush and alarm Effie stood in the doorway, a robe carelessly thrown over her nightdress. Her eyes locked on his, for the first time in months and the words choked in his throat. It was like the rest of the room and everyone in it just disappeared. Everyone but Effie.

And through the blood pounding in his head he could make only one coherent thought.

What have I done to her?

xXx

"I'll be in the back if you need anything," Annabel said as she swept up the last of the broken cup. A spitting mad June had already retreated to their bedroom, carrying the dragon with her and now Annabel went as well, leaving Haymitch and Effie to talk in private.

Not that Haymitch looked like he'd ever speak again. He hunkered in the armchair with his arms crossed over his chest. Effie sat on the couch but they could just as well be light years apart.

"Who told you?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Does it matter?" He wasn't yelling now. Wouldn't even look at her. He seemed to have aged ten years in the past half hour.

"No," said Effie. "No, I suppose not."

She had a blanket draped over herself. Like that was going to hide anything.

"I thought you were on the pill?"

"I was."

"Time and money you could've saved, clearly," he said through gritted teeth. "And the whole Capitol knows I'm the father?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "I wanted to tell you."

"So why didn't you? If you have my kid rolling around in your tummy I deserve to know about it, don't you think?"

When she didn't answer straight away his eyes darted to her face. And his insides contracted all over again as cold panic flooded his limbs.

"What, Eff?"

"It's…" Her voice faltered. "We're not…"

"We're what?"

He saw his own anxiety mirrored in her eyes. She placed her hand against her stomach and his throat closed up. Because he knew the truth before she said it.

No! No, I don't wanna hear it!

"It's two," she said. "Haymitch, I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. I didn't…"

But Haymitch had already heaved himself to his feet. He wanted to throw up. He would throw up.

"I can't do this."

"Wait," she said but he didn't look at her. Couldn't look at her and her big stomach.

"I need some air."

xXx

"Good afternoon, Mathilda," Mr. Bumble smiled when he crossed her door. His elegant, twirled up mustache was dyed a dusk pink today, the same color as the lap dog, freezing at his feet.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bumble," Mrs. Quinlan said, hoping he would pick up on the very inappropriate use of her first name.

He didn't.

"I'd stay and chat," he said, "but Helga is waiting for us." And he gave his bouquet of blue roses a little wave. "It's our anniversary, you know! 25 years!"

"How wonderful. Give her my best," Mrs. Quinlan said mechanically as he trotted off down the street. If Helga was home or even remembered what day it was, she would eat up her hat.

She dropped the key in to her handbag and crossed the road, mindful of any ice patches hidden under the fresh snow.

The door was locked but that she only expected. So she slipped her hand into her handbag and got out different set of keys. Normally she took pride in not using them but the girl had sounded very off on the phone. Sad.

"Euphemia?" she said as she stepped inside. The flat was dark but she turned the lights on as she went. She knew her way around this apartment, almost as well as her own. "Euphemia, where are you?"

She heard noises from the master bedroom. Retches that led her straight for the adjoined bathroom.

Effie's nightgown clung to her with sweat. Slumped down on her knees, she clutched the toilet seat as she threw up. Tears and perspiration rolled down her face from the ordeal.

She didn't hear anyone come in. That way she never saw the complete and utter shock on Mrs. Quinlan's face. But she quickly composed herself again.

"Euphemia."

Effie looked up, startled.

"Oh", she groaned. She was pale as a sheet, her eyes wet and red. "Mrs. Q, now's… not a good time."

And she disappeared inside the bowl again as the next wave rolled in.

Mrs. Quinlan didn't say anything. She just pulled up a stool and seated herself. She gathered Effie's hair with one hand and held it back from her face until the worst was over.

When Effie grew still, head heavy against her arms, just heaving breaths of both exhaustion and relief Mrs. Quinlan reached for a towel.

"Here," she said and soaked it under the faucet. "Clean yourself."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Q," Effie mumbled and dabbed her mouth with it. She felt Mrs. Quinlan's eyes on her and tried to elude them by wiping the tears off her cheeks. "I am not quite myself today."

"Euphemia."

"Must be something I ate."

"Euphemia, look at me, please."

With an enormous effort, Effie lifted her head. She swallowed and swallowed. The color of her face had returned, from barely holding it together.

"Are you with child?"

Those words did it. It was like a dam broke. Effie buried her face against her babysitter's lap and now they came. All those pent-up tears she hadn't been able to shed since that awful day with Haymitch on the train station.

Mrs. Quinlan's face was taut as a string.

"There now," she murmured and stroked Effie's hair. "You will be alright. It's going to be just fine."

Effie soaked Mrs. Quinlan's skirt with her sobs and it was like she was little again.

She'd been four or five and accidentally knocked over a vase. Everything in Mrs. Quinlan's apartment was either ancient or valuable or both and little Effie stared in horror at the broken pierces. Finally she ran off and hid.

For the next half-hour Mrs. Quinlan had to go from room to room and from closet to closet, peer inside the cupboards and behind every thick curtain, calling her name. When she finally found her in the laundry basket Effie was so terror-struck she burst in to a wail of tears.

But Mrs. Q just scoped her up, pulled a dirty child sock off the side of her dress and carried her into the living room. With her skinny arms linked around Mrs. Q's neck Effie sniveled and whimpered the entire time, her little body racked with sobs.

Mrs. Q. wrapped her in one of her own shawls that smelled of perfume and to the rhythm of the creaky old rocking chair, she hummed her to sleep with a Capitol lullaby.

She had never felt so safe.

"Why don't you take a shower, Euphemia," Mrs. Quinlan said once Effie's sobs had subsided a little. She patted her hand between her own icy ones. "And then you and I will have a cup of nice, hot tea."

"Oh, that is awfully sweet, mrs. Q, but I think I rather," she started to object but Mrs. Quinlan only waved a finger in the air.

"It will do you some good," she said. "Tea at my place, four o'clock."

Effie had avoided Mrs. Quinlan's flat for the past almost two years. She had spent a great deal of her childhood in the company of her landlady when mother and father couldn't or wouldn't take their daughter with them to one of their events.

But these days there was only one subject Mrs. Q wanted to discuss when they met and Effie found herself coming up with excuses. Because it didn't matter how many times she tried to change the subject, Mrs. Q always steered the conversation back on the same sole topic.

Haymitch Abernathy.

Effie never talked about her and Haymitch's relationship. Not with Mrs. Q or anyone else. But living just across the road, Mrs. Quinlan seemed to know everything anyway.

She didn't approve. She never liked the gruff and unrefined victor of District 12 and nothing could change her mind.

She just didn't understand. How could she? No one in the Capitol did.

"How far along are you?" she asked and poured them tea from the plump china pot. Effie tried to breathe through her nose. Just thinking about ingesting something made her queasy.

"Nine weeks."

"Have you told him yet? Are you sure it's his?"

"Mrs. Quinlan," said Effie tiredly. "We've been through this. I'm sorry, but it's private and really no one else's business."

"So, I take that as a yes," she said mildly.

Exhausted, Effie's eyes wandered longingly to the snow-specked window beyond Mrs. Q.

"He should have taken precautions," the old woman said. "The situation he puts you in."

"It wasn't his fault," said Effie. "It just… happened."

Mrs. Quinlan poured cream into her cup but Effie didn't touch it. All she really wanted was to lie down.

There were cookies rounded up on the silvery cake stand. The frosting wasn't like Peeta's. Not nearly as nice but looking at them only reminded her of those lazy days in District 12 and Haymitch, teasing her for having such a sweet-tooth.

"Drink now," said Mrs. Quinlan. "Add a little honey. Or would you rather I put some ginger in? It helps with the nausea."

"No, it's OK."

Effie lifted the cup just to humor her. She was about to take a sip when the warm scent curled into her nose. A crease appeared between her eyebrows.

Mrs. Quinlan didn't like surprises. Her routines had been virtually unchanged for the past decades. She washed her hands with the same kind of rose soap, combed her hair with the ivory comb that had survived two wars and she always drank jasmine tea.

This wasn't jasmine tea. Effie should know. After all those tea parties at this very table, the flowery aroma was forever ingrained in her memory. She took another tentative sniff of the strange and unfamiliar fragrance.

It had a faint minty quality but not quite like the mint tea in District 12. She doubted she ever had it in the Capitol either. And yet the smell tugged at her, tried to tell her something.

Her eyes flitted to Mrs. Quinlan. The old woman stirred her own cup in slow, precise circles. The silver spoon rasped the bottom of the china. A cup she had yet to touch.

And a wave of dread flushed Effie's face when the name surfaced.

"It's pennyroyal."

Mrs. Quinlan looked her in the eye. Her face was as hard and unyielding as the gems in her cheeks.

"You should never have let him into your bed."

The beverage scalded Effie's hands when she pushed back from the table. She stared at Mrs. Quinlan, eyes wide in terror.

"It's for your own good, Euphemia. Nobody ever needs to know. It will be like it never happened."

Effie didn't stay to hear the rest. She fled the room, didn't bother with her coat just bolted for the door. Her hands shook so badly she couldn't work the locks and one terrible moment she thought herself trapped.

Footsteps approached or she imagined they did and a shriek escaped her lips. Then the door flew open and she staggered out into the sleet.

Blood pounded her ears as she locked her front door, fled into her bedroom and locked that door as well. She was shaking all over and slumped rather than sat down on the bed, hand clamped over her mouth.

I didn't drink it. I never drank it.

Her vision was so blurred it took her three efforts to dial the right number. Her hand found her tummy and she tried to draw slow, deep breaths to calm the erratic beating of her heart.

"It's OK," she whispered to the unborn baby in her belly. "It's OK. You're OK."

So many signals just came and went, her hopes faltered with each one. Until,

"What?"

A sob slipped between her lips at the sound of his voice. She couldn't help it. Her palm remained against her bump that wasn't even a bump yet. Just a slight swelling beneath her dress. It made her feel stronger.

"Haymitch?" She fought to keep her voice steady. "Haymitch, it's me."

"Ah, there she is," he said with the nasty edge that sometimes crept into his voice when he drank, especially now under these circumstances. "Long time no princess. What can you want?"

"I'm sorry. I know I should have called you a long time ago."

"Oh, I remember that voice. Effs Trinket needs a shoulder to cry on, huh? So she goes to good ol' Haymitch. Course." She heard him take a swig from a bottle. "It's too bad mine're all the way down here, then. Both of 'em."

"I can take the train." Tears threatened to spill over her lashes but she held them back. Didn't want to break down in to a blubbering mess. "If I go now I ought to be…"

"Here in a day. Yeah. And I'm supposed to just welcome you with open arms?"

"Haymitch…"

"That's my name."

"I really must speak to you. It's im…"

"What for?" he cut her off. "I'm a dead-end drunk, remember?"

"I've never called…"

"No, that's right. Your words were much fancier."

A wave of despair rose up within Effie. It was like a physical pain.

"I know you're angry," she said. "This is not easy for me either but…"

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Just fine. Can't ruin a life that's already ruined, right? I s'pose you want all your crap back? Yeah, the kids have it. They think you're gonna come back, you know. 'When hell freezes over', am I right? But you know Peeta. I'll just tell 'em to send it over straight away so you never have to set your foot here ever again. Great, huh?"

"You left me, Haymitch!" Effie cried and her voice broke. "I didn't want you to go! I didn't want it to end!"

"Could've fooled me." He twisted the top of another bottle. "And don't you worry your pretty head, sweetheart. You'll get over it. Trust me. Soon you're gonna find some nice, wholesome guy who does exactly what he's told. It'll be all: 'Yes, Euphemia. No, Euphemia. Whatever you say, Eu…'"

"Don't call me that!" she cried at the sound of Mrs. Quinlan's name for her. "Haymitch, please!" She didn't care that she begged now, hand clutched against her stomach like she could somehow protect it that way. "Mrs. Q, she… she tried to… I need you! If you care about me at all…"

"Oh, I cared about you," Haymitch said. "A lot. More than a lot. Should've fucking known better. So why don't you call Plutarch or Octavia or any other of your friends and just leave me alone. Cause I owe you nothing. Nothing at all."

Tears rolled down Effie's face and she abandoned all efforts to try and stop them.

"I'm so stupid."

"Have a wonderful life, Eff. I'm sure you're gonna be deliriously happy."

And she was left with just the flat audio tone.

Chapter Text

"No, I haven't seen him," the bartender said, pouring ale into a crystal clear glass. "Try The Forum."

Effie nodded.

"Alright. Thank you."

"Is it true you're having his kids?" he called after her before the door swung shut between them.

Back on the square Effie drew a deep breath of the sweet air. She needn't go to the pub in The Forum. She'd already been at the shopping center, under the pretense she'd pick out some things for the babies.

He wasn't there. He wasn't in any of the pubs, taverns or liquor licensed restaurants in the Capitol.

She would have welcomed the sight of a plastered Haymitch at two in the morning but he never returned. She wasn't sure what she thought she'd accomplish by looking for him. Just, holding on to her foolish hope.

But who was she kidding? He was long gone.

She didn't blame him.

"You have to tell him, Effie," Annabel said from the beginning. "He's the father. He deserves to know."

Yes, he was and he did and each time she dialed his number, after that first disaster of a call, she lost heart.

Because how could she tell him he was going to be a father when she knew Haymitch didn't want kids?

Just falling pregnant felt like a deceit but she just couldn't bear the thought of an abortion, not after what she did in the Games.

She'd been so careful. She couldn't even understand how it still happened until she retraced her steps with her doctor.

That night after the December Fair when she and Haymitch slept together and it all ended so badly she woke with one of the worst migraines of her life. That's what stress did to her sometimes. They weren't frequent but whenever one hit, sooner or later she always puked.

The idea that the pill she took each morning might not have been completely absorbed by her body yet never even cross her mind. She just had two spoonfuls of sleep syrup and went back to bed, leaving her where she was now.

She rested her hand against her stomach and felt the hard stares thrown her way.

People expected her to feel too ashamed to even leave the house and the bigger she got the more it seemed to agitate them that she wouldn't play by their rules. But she didn't care what they thought or did. She refused to apologize for her babies.

It was time she headed back. She needed to call the children for starters. Make sure he got home OK. It was long overdue.

She heard them before she saw them. It was like they materalized on to the square and Effie's heart sank.

Of all the people in Panem!

"Effie!" Gloria shrieked and flashed a white grin.

It was hopeless. She was too big now, too slow, there was no way she could escape. Realizing there was no way out, she just stood her ground as the flock surrounded her.

"Where's Prince Drunkard?" Gloria asked and muffled chuckles came from the other girls. Their perfectly manicured hands held everything from soda pops to ice cream to licorice strings and blood red lollies. They looked from Effie to Gloria and back again, eager to see what happened next.

"Let me pass, Gloria."

"Just curious," she smiled. "Mind you, I never spilled your little secret. Wouldn't want to spoil the fun. Oh, no. Let's just say I… pointed him in the right direction. Where's hubby now? He already walked out on you?"

"Let me pass!"

"Think we hit a nerve there, girls." Gloria snickered and the others giggled in assent. She looked Effie up and down. "A district breeder," she tsked. "I suppose we should've seen that coming. And with Haymitch Abernathy of all people! You sure scraped the barrel."

"Haymitch is a far better person than you'd ever hope to be!"

"And where is he now? Hm? Seems very clear to me he doesn't want anything to do with you or the bastards you're cooking. And you kinda deserve it, don't you think?"

Effie's lips were pressed almost no non-existence. Because it was true, what Gloria said. The younger woman smirked and took a step forward. The others followed like obedient dogs until all gaps had closed.

"Leave me alone."

Gloria shook her head.

"I think not. I think we shall have a look in the pretty little bag. Presents for the half-breeds?"

She could have tore her apart with her bare hands and thrown her into the river but she had the babies to think of. Gloria took another step forward and Effie took one back, only met by a wall of the others.

She looked around the square for help but everyone, from the stall owners to the shoppers to the passers by all went by their business like the neither saw nor heard. Only Jerome's son looked straight at her. He stood alone behind his father's fruit baskets and his eyes showed no mercy.

Gloria tried to grab the bag and Effie whipped it away.

"Don't touch me!"

Boosted by her friends' chuckles Gloria tried again and this time she seized it. The straps snagged on one of Effie's fingers and she staggered forward a step.

"Hold it!" a voice boomed across the square, making everyone look up. Not just Gloria and her gaggle of friends but everyone. The ring around Effie dissolved and in the crack between two of the women she saw Haymitch, heading straight for them.

"The hell is this? What's the matter with you?" he asked, face beet red. "What's she done to any of you lot?"

It was like a spell had been broken. Many of the young women looked confused, dazed, like woken from a dream. Even regretful, some of them. Not Gloria. She only seemed slightly startled by this turn of events but she recovered quickly.

"Well, well, well, baby daddy to the rescue."

"Stop acting like a damn five year old!"

"What a catch you got there, Effie. I can smell it on him from here. Yeah, who wouldn't want to dip into that gene-pole? But I suppose, anyone sharing beds with you turns to drink sooner or later."

"Enough!"

"Or what, handsome?" Gloria asked. "You're gonna knock me out with your breath? Not in front of the rat pups, huh?"

Something flashed across Haymitch's eyes. A rage so deep some of the women shrieked and their sodas and popsicles all splashed to the ground when they fled. He was over at Gloria's in two strides and whipped the bag from her hand.

Gloria didn't run. She only blinked, her mouth forming a perfect O. She glanced to her friends for assistance but the few who remained had all given her a wide berth, watching with horrified excitement.

She looked back at Haymitch who towered over her and her Adam's apple bobbed up and down as she swallowed.

"You can't hurt me," she said, her voice small. "I'll scream. Everyone is looking."

It was like she shrunk under Haymitch's stare. Deflated like a balloon and for a second, Effie almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

Then Haymitch's lips suddenly curved into a dark smile. His gaze fluttered up to her hair. Too late Gloria realized what he was going to do.

"No! Don't you dare!" she cried when Haymitch simply reached in.

And plucked it right off her head.

Gloria's friends gasped, not quite able to surpress the giggles bubbling up inside them. Clearly they didn't know Gloria's beautiful, perfect, stunningly glossy hair, now in Haymitch's hand, was in fact a wig and they didn't seem too sad about it.

"Give it back!" Gloria shrieked. Hand pressed against her lank, mouse gray hair forced down with pins she tried to grab the wig from Haymitch but he held it out of reach. He backed from her, turned in a half-circle and threw it as hard as he could.

Every pair of eyes on Heaven's Square, including Effie's, watched it fly high and far until it landed right at the top of a big tree.

Gloria was positively livid. She stomped her foot on the ground like a three year old.

"Animal! You inhuman monster! You get it back to me right now!"

Haymitch didn't waste one more look at her. He went over to Effie and with his hand against the small of her back he walked her off the square, leaving Gloria to hover under the tree with her friends, the wig hoplessly out of reach. Her howls followed them all the way.

"Go back to Twelve! You don't have a job anymore, no place to live! What are you still doing here!? Everything was perfect! Absolutely perfect and you and that worthless drunk, you ruined everything!"

"Did they hurt you?" Haymitch asked.

"No, I'm OK," Effie said but the words were almost immediately contradicted by a small intake of breath. She placed her hand against her stomach.

"What is it?" Haymitch asked in alarm. "What's wrong?"

Effie rubbed her belly in soothing circles and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Just a kick."

Haymitch's face was marred in concern.

"Maybe we should get you to a doctor."

"No, no, Haymitch. It's fine. They're responding to my heartbeat is all."

"That damn woman," he said. "I should just…" Effie rested her hand against his arm.

"She didn't do anything, really. We're OK."

"Alright, alright," he said. "Come on. Let's get you back."

A few moments later the cab rolled up outside June's and Annabel's house with the apple tree out front.

Effie may say she was perfectly fine but she leaned heavily on to his arm as he helped her inside.

"You really OK?"

"A little tired," she confessed.

Yeah. Join the club.

"Perhaps you should try and get some rest. After what happened and… everything." He made a vague gesture toward her stomach.

Effie nodded.

"Yes, it's... maybe that's a good idea."

She let go of his arm. Yet before she could turn a corner her feet slowed to a stop. She looked back and Haymitch knew what was on her mind without her having to say it.

"Don't worry, Eff," he muttered. "I won't go anywhere."

Alone again, he walked in to the living room. No one there but the lizard in the tank. It fluffed its spiky beard at him but when Haymitch didn't flail or yell this time it just returned to it's sunny tree root.

He sank down on to the couch. He'd never felt more exhausted in his entire life and that was saying something.

It took him a moment to realized he was still holding Effie's bag. It was light as air and sported a logo of a needle and a scissor crossed together.

I'm not gonna look.

He dropped it on the couch next to him but just as he'd decided he didn't want to see it, definitely not, he pulled it toward him again and slipped his hand inside.

His fingertips brushed against something soft. Kitten soft, just like Scotch when he was little. The bag floated silently on to the floor.

He was looking down at a pair of playsuits. He didn't know what he'd expected. Little clown outfits maybe with sequins and bells and all that jazz.

He caressed the fabric between his fingertips and just felt like breaking into sobs like a sissy.

One of them had the same pale blue color as the sky on a warm summer day in Twelve. The other was pink, just like those little flowers inlaid in Effie's tea cups.

One blue and one pink. Simple and soft and so unbelievably small.

Holding on to them he dragged himself up. There was a phone built into the wall. Some fancy version that reminded him of those mouthpiece thingies you ordered food from at the penthouse.

"Haymitch", Peeta answered at the sound of his voice. "I was hoping you'd call. You're at Effie's?"

"Sort of," he murmured. "Look I, I need you to send me some things. Clothes and stuff."

"Sure. We'll do that. How long will you stay?"

"I don't know. Check on the geese for me, OK?"

"Of course," Peeta said. "Everything alright?"

Looking down on the playsuits in his hand, Haymitch rubbed the space between his eyebrows like warding off a headache.

"Haymitch?"

He drew a silent breath.

"No."

Once the phone disconnected he heard the sound of footsteps, expecting Effie but it was the brunette. Flickerman's daughter. Annabel.

She was taller than Caesar but the resemblance was still striking. Same cheekbones, same elegantly arched eyebrows over a pair of brown eyes.

But these were eyes that lacked the vain and foolishness her father had in spades. He recalled yesterday's catastrophe of an entrance, when she stopped him from chewing out Effie and thought maybe, just maybe here was someone he could trust.

"Look, ' bout earlier," he muttered. "I'm sorry for…"

"Don't worry about it."

"How long's she lived with you?"

"A couple of months," she said. "We weren't in town but we heard rumors and took the train back. Mr. Abernathy," she hesitated. "Effie is welcome here for as long as she needs to stay. The same goes for you, until you two have descided what the plan it."

"I already know what the plan is," Haymitch said. "I just don't get it. Having kids out of wedlock doesn't cause this much of a flip in the Capitol. Why's her whole life falling apart?"

But as soon as he said it he already knew the answer. Something he should have realized from the start.

"It's because of me, isn't it? Because they're mine."

Chapter Text

"The borders have been open for about two years now, " Annabel said. "A freedom none of us had during Snow's reign. Some leave. Most don't. And some won't even though they can. It's a common enough attitude in the Capitol. That we'd all be a lot happier if everyone stayed where they are."

Haymitch's silver flask dug into his hip, calling for attention but he ignored it. He needed a clear head if he was going to get some answers.

"Just tell me like it is," he'd said.

And she did.

"The wounds from the Hunger Games and the war are still bleeding. Naturally, people are angry and scared. The revolution further cemented the belief that we can't trust each other and Capitolians and district-born alike think the other got off too easily.

But then there's this whole other aspect that came with the peace. Because despite the anger and mistrust that smolders in the shadows, people are falling in love across borders.

The first Capitolian to ever marry someone from a district was Lysistrata Vickers' grandson.

He was on vacation with his parents in District 4 where he met a girl from District 5 who worked in an a ice cream stall at the resort. They were little more than children but they fell in love. When his parents found out they took him straight home and forbade him to ever speak to her again.

They wrote to each other in secret. He tried to confront his parents, tell him how he felt but they would hear none of it. He was a Vickers. He shouldn't run after someone so below him when there were plenty of well-suited Capitol girls to choose from. Finally he just ran off. Took the train to District 5 where she waited for him. They met with her mother and father and he asked for their daughter's hand. They said they would rather see her dead than married to a Capitol man.

In the end they eloped. They weren't welcome in District 5 so she followed him to the Capitol but they weren't really welcome here either. Instead they became targeted from both sides for 'mixing with the enemy.'

His grandmother was the only one who called it for what it is: rubbish! She took them in despite the neighbors' outcries and they lived here for a while. Run a china shop downtown but people were furious with him for bringing a 'district whore' into their midst. Furious with her for having the audacity to think she could ever become one of them.

When she got pregnant they decided to move to District 9 and open a glassblower's business. Start fresh and try and make it easier on everyone. The baby most of all."

"They were assaulted?"

"Not physically. There was a lot of violence right after the war. Not so much anymore. Not with Paylor in charge. But if people can't shout, they whisper. They find other ways to get to you. Discrimination. Anonymous phone calls, lies and slander and backstabbing. People who are determined to put you out of business, to drive away all the 'rebel trash and district lovers' from the Capitol."

Haymitch's teeth were clenched so tightly he would have a headache before the day was over.

"That's what they're trying to do to Effie?"

Annabel nodded.

"Not everyone. Not even half of them but still plenty to go around. Friends who freezes her out, stores that refuse to serve her, the school board who didn't renew her contract, Mrs. Quinlan evicting her. They all claim they disapprove of her not being married but that is a flat-out lie. It's the whole 'half-breed' aspect that rubs them the wrong way and they just want her to go somewhere, anywhere where they don't have to see her."

"Where's Paylor in all this? Asleep?" It was a miracle he didn't shout.

"She and her administration do what they can," said Annabel. "But it's a slow process to unify the country and open people's minds. And she's not a dictator with absolute power. She doesn't sit on every chair of influence around Panem."

xXx

They were interrupted by the door bell. Haymitch made a slight wave of his hand like "go ahead" and Annabel rose. She stopped in the doorway.

"Things will get better, Mr. Abernathy. We'll make it so. That's what Effie believes."

Yeah, course she does, Haymitch thought. She was always the optimistic one.

He should have seen this coming. It all made sense now. Mrs. Quinlan for instance. She might as well have a sign.

"Half-breeds", what a bullshit term. Like they were two different spieces. He was an idiot for being surprised. For expecting more just because those same people ate the star-crossed lovers act right up and seemed genuinely upset about Katniss's pregnancy before the Quell.

Not the same, he thought, and not anymore. Things changed after we got Katniss out of the clock area and the revolution was a fact. Maybe we were like precious, beloved pets to some of them. Play things that they could use and treat however they fancied. Until we turned around and bit them. Those fools won't forget that in a heartbeat. Or forgive.

He wasn't oblivious, of course. He saw the looks, heard the mutters whenever he spent time with Effie in the Capitol. People who didn't approve and never would.

It reminded him of when he was little, playing with Maysilee and Leonore. All those narrowed eyes and pressed lips from towners and Seam workers alike. Because he was supposed to keep to his own kind.

Even back then, before the Games, before the rebellion, before Effie he didn't play by the rules. Didn't see anything wrong with it.

Annabel returned with a wooden crate, carried it into the kitchen but Haymitch hardly noticed. He gazed miserably through the window.

Effie knew, all along. The consequences of her actions. She must have and she didn't tell him. Why? Because he'd nip their relationship in the bud?

Had he known, would he keep from getting involved with Effie? No, probably not. But he would have treaded more carefully. Not do things like make out with her with the door opened for starters. Or make all those trips back and forth in the first place. Have a vasectomy or maybe just cut the bloody thing off!

Haymitch sighed and got out his silver hipflask.

What did it matter now? The babies were coming and thinking "what ifs" wouldn't help the situation.

Outside the sun was on it's way down and in the fading light he saw that other woman, coming home. The blonde woman from yesterday. June. She carried a grocery bag on each arm, full to bursting.

He appeared in the hallway just in time to see one of them burst open against the carpet. Cursing under her breath June squatted down to retrieve the turnips and onions and red-skinned potatoes.

She didn't see Haymitch there. Not until he slipped a bundle of carrots into what was left of the bag. She shot him a black look. Small wonder. If a man barged into his house and were all up in Effie's face the way he was with June's wife, Haymitch would be just as pissed.

Not that Effie was his anything.

They gathered in silence.

"Appreciate what you've done for Eff," he muttered. "Glad she had someone."

June picked up the last green pepper and dropped it into the bag, mulling over his words. When she finally spoke there was no venom in her voice.

"She saved Annabel's life once."

"You're welcome to eat dinner with us," Annabel said when they joined her in the kitchen. The empty crate stood on the table and she was just putting away jars of apple sause and honey and bottles of lemonade. "We're having roast chicken and winter vegetables."

Afterward, Haymitch couldn't quite say how it happened but before he knew it, he found himself by the cutting board, making mountains of chopped root vegetables for the rest of the evening.

He welcomed the distraction with open arms. Sooner or later he knew he had to talk to Effie but for now he just immersed himself in the task at hand.

Soon the knots in his shoulders began to relax a little. June and Annabel prepared the whole chicken and he listened to their small talk. All quiet, everyday topics that had absolutely nothing to do with his and Effie's predicament. They didn't expect him to join in the conversation which suited him just fine.

When the rich smell from the oven filled the room and the trash can spilled over with peels Haymitch eased the bag up.

There were garbage bins in front of most houses in this Capitol suburb. He saw them earlier. Right by the road. Green and yellow and blue and red ones, for all kinds of trash. Leave it to the Capitol to take better care of their garbage than they did people. Even their own neigbours.

The air was filled with birdsong. The mockingjays in June's and Annabel's old apple tree bounced notes to their brothers and sisters in the small pond below. Silly little melodies, all new to his ears. Probably some drunken song they picked up downtown.

Funny he never wondered before. What the hell were mockingjays doing in the Capitol? In all his years of mentoring he never saw a single one of them past District 1. Yet here they were, thriving. Come to think of it, he'd seen them for some time now. Ever since his first visit to Effie after the war ended.

Had someone asked him 10 years ago why there were no Mockingjays in the Captiol when they lived everywhere else he'd shrug and say they probably didn't like big cities.

But that wasn't it. Mockingjays were very compatible and sure, the Capitol was a big city but it was a green one too. Plenty of lush gardens and great food sources and then he didn't even include the outskirts of the city where the River Theseus ran its course.

How did Snow keep them out? Poison? Force fields? Firing squad?

A classmate once told him the peacekeepers used mockingjays for gun practice. Not blackbirds or pigeons or mockingbirds who were all far easier to capture. Mockingjays in particular.

Clearly, Snow didn't like the jabberjay-mockingbird cocktail even before Katniss Everdeen came along and caused him so much trouble. No surprise there, really given his obsession with control.

And as soon as he was gone and the dust settled, the mockingjays re-inhabited the city, slowly but surley. No longer a funny songbird to be replicated on belt buckles or embroidered into silk lapels. The symbol of the rebellion.

That's how people viewed his and Effie's children? Like some unnatural mutation caused by people's recklessness? Genes gone bad?

The men and women here had no problem rubbing their genitals against some poor Games victor but Haymitch remembered well: Snow always made sure the Capitol population – the elit of Panem – didn't end up pro-creating with the district scum.

Haymitch reckoned the only reason the winners of the Hunger Games weren't sterilized as soon as they turned victorious was because it meant no victor's children in the reaping bowl. Sophie somehow slipped under the radar only because peacekeepers like Cray lost their Capitol citizenship as soon as they took the uniform.

He lifted the lid off the garbage bin, about to dump the bag inside and pulled up short.

Just a few feet away from him, their eyes big as saucers, stood four girls. Haymitch stared right back, completely thrown by the déjà vu.

The pastel dresses, the adorned hairdos, the glitter of knick-knacks. It was like looking at four Effie Trinkets. The old Effie from the Games, only smaller. 12-13 tops.

"Hello," said the girl in the middle. The sole member of the quartet who had natural colored eyes. Brown. "We didn't mean to scare you."

"What do you want?"

In answer, she pointed to the house.

"That's missus. A.B. and missus. June's house," she said. "Effie Trinket lives there now, doesn't she Mr. Haymitch?"

Haymitch's eyes narrowed at the question. The garbage bag landed at the bottom of the bin with a clank.

"Go home," he said. "You've no business with Effie, not any of you. So go home to your ma and pa and don't come back."

He closed the lid with finality and headed for the door.

The girls glanced at each other.

xXx

When Effie didn't answer his knock Haymitch pushed inside. The room was an organized mess. Filled with stuff you needed for a baby. Or babies, in this case.

His eyes traveled across the room. Most of it he had no clue what purpose they served. Like the bottle with a funnel-shaped horn on one side and attached to a skinny hose on the other. What was that? A beer bong?

Course, he recognized a crib when he saw one. Or rather, two cribs. His eyes were drawn to them, like a moth to a flame. Tiny teddy bears on the corners. Some kind of toy attached on top, like a wind chime. He brushed his fingertip against a wooden cloud and they all swayed in a circle.

Effie lay on her side, on top of the covers. One of her hands rested protectively over her big stomach. The bed dipped as he sat next to her. He ought to put the two playsuits in a drawer somewhere. His hands reeked from onions, despite the scrubbing. Still, the baby clothes remained on his lap. He wasn't ready to part from them just yet.

Effie's chest rose and fell and he felt a twinge of jealousy, watching her peaceful rest. It looked like she needed it, though. She must have been all spent if she fell asleep fully-dressed.

It was her own bed. Her own nightstand and table lamp. The rest of her furniture must be in storage somewhere.

She's homeless.

And here he was with a village full of houses. Effie could take one of them if she didn't want to stay with him. But if she was going to live in a guestroom it damn sure should be his. He was the father, after all and he didn't trust the Capitol one bit, with or without Paylor. Effie and the kids would be safer in Twelve, wouldn't they?

Just like with the cribs, his eyes were drawn to the porcelain goose on Effie's nightstand. His last gift to her, the night of the December Fair. He'd forgotten all about it til now.

Clearly, Effie hadn't.

He felt around in his pocket and yep, there it was, bunking with his hipflask. Being bumped around half across the country had turned the paper goose into little more than a ball of paper, all bent and misshapen.

It wasn't all broken though. You could still see what it really was. He flexed out the winds a little and set it next to Effie's on the nightstand. They looked just as odd together as their owners did in real life.

The one who sold it to him. The girl with a Distict 5 accent. It must have been her. Lysistrata Vickers's granddaughter-in-law, who got shunned just for loving a man from the Capitol.

Were they happy now? Over in District 9? With their new life and their new baby? Far away from both their families. Did people accept them or were they just met with the same anger and hostility at every turn? From the district this time.

What am I gonna do, mama?

And he heard his mother's answer, straight and firm, just like when she lived.

You marry her.

Yeah. Didn't he tell Effie the same thing once? In the tree after they crashed the hot air balloon. If he got someone pregnant he would do right by her. Not hang her out to dry. That's how he was raised.

Course, he never imagined himself to ever end up a father, not past the age of 16 at least.

Would it even make a difference? Would his children's life be easier if he was married to their mother? Maybe in Twelve. Here, the opposite was just as likely. More even. A ring on his finger, so what? It didn't make him any less district.

If he proposed marriage, would Effie say yes? The terrible answer was: yeah, probably. For the same reason she once said yes to Kane.

No. He wouldn't condemn Effie to a life with him just because he couldn't keep it in his pants. She deserved better.

But things would change around here, that's for sure. Whatever the future held, no one would lay so much as a finger on Effie or his kids ever again. Not as long as Haymitch drew breath.

Chapter Text

One of the babies stirred within Effie. They had grown so big now, a firm elbow in the side was all it took. She drew a soft sigh and rubbed her stomach.

Chapter Text

Haymitch ducked low as they passed the willow tree with its pink colored branches and mint green leaves stretched far over the road. Miriam's Road, Effie called it. Miri Road for short. The gravel pathway was the same pale yellow as a slice of fresh pineapple.

He wouldn't mind a cab ride but Effie preferred walking, even now and the house wasn't far.

"As long as we take it slow."

Her arm was looped around his, just like in the old days. 27 weeks into the pregnancy she was more than grateful for the support. It drew many looks but then again, they always did.

"I love this garden." Days in the sun had painted a rosy layer across her nose, now sprinkled with freckles.

"You would," he said and Effie smiled.

"The colors are rather intense, I admit but you see, I spent so much time here as a child. I used to chase ducks, jump after soap bubbles bigger than my head. I sang for the swans, badly."

She chuckled at the memory.

"Mother clucked at me. 'Be a lady, Euphemia!' But it was like her words just flew past my ear. And when evening came and I got tired my father scooped me up and I watched the fireflies from his shoulder. All those little lights in the flower bushes. It was magical. I was so happy."

She fell silent, her smile fading.

Mrs. Q used to join as well. Not often, of course. She was never one for outings and daydrips. The only times mother might convince her were on very special occasions, like anniversaries.

"You simply must come! You're part of our family too and Euphemia would just love that."

She brushed the thought away. It only made her sad. Sad and angry. Angry with herself most of all.

Whenever Mrs. Q. made a comment about the districts or the new government Effie always made excuses for her. Blamed it on her upbringing and the great losses she suffered during the wars, both wars.

And when it came to her strong opinions about Haymitch, his drinking and very un-Capitoly ways Effie truly believed it all stemmed from a place of genuine concern for her. Because she cared for her and wanted her happy.

Mathilda Quinlan's true colors were brighter than fireworks and still Effe didn't see them. A mistake that nearly cost her…

No! She refused to finish that thought.

They hadn't spoken since that awful day over at her apartment. Mrs. Quinlan just sent her notice. Told her to pack her bags. By then everyone already knew her sins.

Mrs. Q was a quick worker. Always had been. She didn't even have to do all that much. All it took was a few words in passing to one of the biggest gossipers in town and the Capitol did the rest.

When Haymitch first arrived he probably thought it was all Gloria's making. Honestly, she wished it was. The outcome wouldn't change but at least then the betrayal wasn't made by someone she loved. By someone she thought loved her back.

When all of this was happening June and Annabel were in District 11. Effie never told them but news of her predicament reached them anyway and Annabel was on the next train.

It was so cold that day. Early March and the Capitol was covered in a glitter of crystals. The last frost before Spring. Annabel had to look all over town for her old friend before she found her.

Here in Cupid's Garden, by the Roman Stairs.

Haymitch didn't know it but as her pregnancy progressed Effie had spent more and more time by those steps.

Castor and Pollux's mind flights were everywhere. Sprinkled over the Capitol like confetti. Some obvious, some hidden, all of them lovely.

But the ones by the Roman Stairs were her favorites. The very reason she walked there day in and day out. Not because of her parents or any good or half-good memories she had from around here.

No, because the final image showed District 12. When those woods engulfed her, that's when she felt the closest to Haymitch. Even if it was only an illusion.

The day Annabel showed up Effie wasn't looking at pictures though. Not moving pictures anyway. She stared at a sonogram, for the first time without her hands shaking.

That's after she spent the past three hours at the hotel crying her eyes out. How strange to feel happy and so utterly destroyed with despair, all at the same time.

Those two little dots.

How many hours did they sit there in the biting cold, talking, while the wind nipped their noses? She had no idea. A lot of her memories from that chaotic time were a blur. Too many life-changing things, good and bad, had happened so fast.

But for the first time Effie truly confided in someone. Someone other than Haymitch. After Mrs. Q, she didn't think she'd ever trust anyone here again but that's just the thing about Annabel. She was different. An outcast too. Had been one for a long time.

Everyone else thought Effie Trinket suffered a fate worse than death but not Annabel. She was the first person to tell her she was happy for her sake.

For it was happy news.

Those long weeks and months alone in the Capitol, Effie felt worried, distressed, heartsick, guilty, jumpy, furious, constantly choked up and panicked about the future. But not a day went by without her feeling happy, grateful for those two growing inside her.

Annabel was also the only one who knew about the incident with the pennyroyal tea. Effie wisely decided to keep Haymitch out of that loop. It would only upset him and what for? Mrs. Q. had already fired all of her guns, big and small. She couldn't hurt them anymore.

"You got mail," Haymitch said as they walked the path toward June and Annabel's house. He reached inside a fork in the apple tree and got out a handful of pink paper hearts. So many they slipped through his fingers.

Gracie and the others had not returned since their first visit. Undoubtedly someone saw them and ran for the phone. The girls weren't exactly quiet there by the window.

June and Annabel laughed when they first heard of the visit, with all of them seated around the roast chicken. Effie was concerned that the parents would be angry, not only with her and Haymitch but with the two of them as well but Annabel waved it off.

"Let them. It'll be a refreshing new round of name-calling. 'Traitor' and 'turn-coat' and 'back-stabber': it gets old."

Either way, after their initial visit, the girls didn't come knocking again. But, as Haymitch so correctly pointed out to Effie: "They never actually promised you anything."

They just found new ways to get the message across. Snuck little notes in Effie's windowpanes, used them for sail in bark boats and sent them cruising across the pond or, like today, hid them in the tree.

How they did it was a mystery because they were never caught red-handed. Haymitch understood the appeal. This cat and mouse game they played with June and Annabel's hawk-eyed neighbors. He had the same rebellious tendencies as a kid after all. Same "fight the power" response when told he couldn't do something.

He opened the door for her and closed it behind them. Effie headed for his room which was closest but Haymitch took the route through the kitchen first. He plucked two pomegranates from the fruit basket and got out his knife.

When Jerome, the big-bellied, always-good-for-a-joke man who sold Effie her groceries every week, heard what happened on the square he got mad as a mad dog.

Next thing they knew, three wooden crates arrived at June and Annabel's doorstep, filled to the brim with large, fragrant pomegranates of the finest quality. All cultivated in his greenhouses.

Next to chocolate wafers, the dark pinkish fruit had been Effie's ultimate craving ever since she got pregnant. She inhaled the stuff, one glass at a time.

"Oh, thank you. You're an angel," Effie said when he handed it to her, fresher than fresh and clinking with ice cubes. She sat leaned back in the recliner with a pillow against her back and he crawled up in his usual spot in the bay window.

Hands knitted over his stomach he watched Effie sip her glass and read the little notes on those paper hearts. She always said the girls shouldn't keep doing this but he knew she was happy for them. These hellos from her protégées. Held them more precious than gold. He saw it in her smiles, like right now. Even if they were laced with sadness.

"Aren't you angry?" he asked.

"Oh, you should be inside my head sometimes." She drew a breath that couldn't quite count as a sigh. "I saw it coming, really. They never liked my teaching methods. Or the fact that I spoke up. Trust me, they've wanted to be rid of me for a long time.

When they found out about this," she said and placed her hand against the top of her stomach. "Well, let's just say it was the final straw. Professor Sickle gathered a name collection. Written complaints from concerned parents. I was summoned before the Board and they told me, as much as they wanted to, they simply could not renew my contract with a good conscious."

"What a lot of bull," he said and she gave him a joyless smile.

"Indeed. Most of all I worried about my students. What would happen to them. But from what I hear, the Board already has a problem with Talisha."

"So?"

"It means she's good, Haymitch. Not quite in my league of course but then again: who is? Beetee's told me about her and her background. They knew each other way back in District 3. Gracie and the others, they're in good hands."

She had herself another sip of juice.

"You should see professor Sickle," she said. "To hear her tell it Snow will one day rise up from his grave and everything will resume to the way it was. But Pallas and Appollo's Academy are a thing of the past and good riddance!

The date for the new school is set and it will be long before the end of Talisha's contract. A co-ed school with teachers from all over the country. They're building universities, did you know that? In District 4 and 7, in addition to the one we have here. No more School boards where class and wealth gives you power.

So if Sickle and her flock of vultures and eye-servants wants to fire me as one last death twitch, they can have it! The future is coming whether they like it or not."

Yeah, Haymitch thought. That's my Eff.

Damn it,

he thought right after. Not "his". Effie wasn't his. Never would be again. Why was that so hard to learn?

The ice clinked as Effie tipped the glass up. She caught a drip of juice before it escaped her lip and said,

"But to change the subject, Haymitch. I was thinking."

"That hurt?"

"When my father was born, it was grandfather who chose his name. And 'Euphemia' was actually picked out by my mother. So you could say it's a Trinket tradition for the fathers to decide the boy's names and the mothers to decide the girl's. And since our children are half-Trinkets, I think it would be beautiful to carry on that tradition. What do you say?"

"Not a chance, sweetheart."

"Why ever not? I have full confidence in you."

"You think I was born yesterday? You're just saying that cause you wanna lock your name down so when you call our daughter 'Amandagram', I can't say anything. And even then, I bet you'll still find some way to pick the boy's name, too."

"I certainly would not. And who said anything about 'Amandagram'? What kind of a name is that? Amandalyn, on the other hand…"

"Is too long. I never even heard of it until today. Besides… what?" he said, at the sudden wide smile on Effie's face.

"My dearest Haymitch. You always tell me I pick all the long, weird names but you never stop to think about the name you've got. 'Haymitch Abernathy' doesn't exactly roll easily off the tongue, does it? All these years and I still can't find a decent nickname for it. How did your parents come up with 'Haymitch' anyway?"

Too late she realized her blunder. Felt it in the tense silence that followed. They never spoke of his dead family. To cover the slip-up, she said,

"What about Florentinus then? For the boy. That's fancy."

"No."

"I still think Haymitch Junior has a nice ring to it."

"No!" He rubbed his forehead, like getting a headache. "Please, Eff. Spare the poor kid. One of me is enough."

xXx

A week passed. The heat wouldn't let go of the Capitol but the same could not be said for the rest of Panem.

One day a call came from District 11.

They were just setting the breakfast table. Haymitch placed the largest bread basket by the coffee pot. No smaller would do because ever since Katniss and Peeta sent him the trunk of clothes and whatnot, the boy made a habit of keeping them all with baked goods.

Raspberry and blueberry muffins. The light and fluffy brioche bread baked with honey that Effie liked. Even crescent-moon rolls dotted with seeds that he baked especially for June and Annabel.

Effie poured orange juice into a big glass jug but before she could lift it off the counter Haymitch was there. He didn't let her carry anything heavier than a book and even then, only the light ones.

That's when the phone rang, June answered and they didn't think much of it at first. Not until the blonde woman re-appeared, face flushed.

"Bel, Eustace's on the phone," she said. "He says the tree blew over last night! Half the top floor is gone!"

For the next three days the two ladies hardly ever came off the phone.

"That blasted tree!" Annabel said. "We should've listened to Eustace and cut it down when we had the chance."

Haymitch got a call through to Katniss and Peeta but apparently the storm missed District 12. He remembered well, the harm they could do. Storms. Not Katniss and Peeta. There was a reason Seamers were fixers. One had to be if you wanted to survive the winter.

All those ramshackle, dry-as-a-bone houses before the rebellion. It was a full-time job just to keep the walls from caving in. Something always broke or bailed on you when you needed it most. Frozen pipes, clogged drains, leaky roofs, cracked chimneys. The list just went on and on.

In his prime, grandpa Harold was a sought for carpenter. Haymitch often came with on one of his jobs and he learned a thing or two. From his visits at the woodshop as well. He would have offered now. Gone to Eleven and helped with the repairs. Pay off an ounce of his enormous debt to June and Annabel.

But what about Effie? She was due in August. Late August, but still. He bet that with his famous luck, the moment the train rolled into Eleven she would go into labor, just because.

"I know people you can call and put the bill on me," he told Annabel but even that he wasn't getting. They already hired people from The Cidery.

But it changed the plans for all of them. Disrupted the schedule, as the former escort would say.

June and Annabel wanted to be there. Back in District didn't say so out loud, not outside their own bedroom but Effie knew it more than well.

A lot of people cringed when they heard Caesar Flickerman's daughter went and bought a place in a district. An outer district no less! But Effie knew how much they loved that house. For the last few years June and Annabel had spent more time in District 11 than in the Capitol. They led a life there. One they left, because of her.

"You should go," Effie said, one night when she had a moment alone with her old friend.

And it didn't take much to convince Annabel. Now that Haymitch Abernathy was there, by Effie's side. But even then she squeezed her hand and promised,

"I'll be back before you deliver."

xXx

And so, Haymitch and Effie were alone again.

It was so hot out.

"The hottest summer in living memory" Effie said which made Haymitch laugh because he was from District 12.

Still, the almost tropical heat took its toll. On Effie because she was pregnant and on Haymitch because he was Haymitch. So they didn't mind a day in. Or three.

Surprisingly calm days they were too. Sane. For them anyway. Maybe because Effie spent the majority of them resting or consumed by her new, favorite hobby.

Whenever Haymitch joined her and no matter the hour, Effie's nose was always in a baby book. She had like a hundred of them, stocked sky-high in both their rooms.

Haymitch even made a few attempts to follow her example but he always shut the book tight within the first minute since about 95 % of those pages were about everything that could go wrong.

His imagination was bad enough. He didn't need specifics.

But most of the time life was just one calm, uneventful, boring day after another. Just the kind Haymitch savored. When he got to spent them with his annoying, pregnant escort, that was.

So Effie read and Haymitch made her pomegranate juice while he tried to wrap his head around the fact soon two new people would join the party. Their little ones, to use Effie's words.

Besides, when they could just keep to themselves, within these walls, it was easier to believe the world had finally forgotten all about them.

Course, like so many things in the Capitol it was only an illusion.

Effie was re-reading chapter 14, "When you bring your twins home" and Haymitch took his chance and snuck into the bathroom.

Crouched before the cabinet he got out his shower bag. Well, "his" was quite a stretch. He more or less stole it from Effie and stuffed it with shampoo bottles shortly after he moved in.

The thing was printed with glossy red, almost obscene flamingo flowers but it was spacey and that's all that mattered.

He dug inside, rummaged through the camouflage until his hand closed around one of Ripper's trusty bottles. Good and heavy.

He was playing his own cat and mouse game with Effie. After June and Annabel left for Eleven he resumed to his old habit of hiding bottles around the house, at arm's reach but out of her sight.

The night was his new best friend, just like when he and Effie were together. When he could get some alone time with the bottles, without Effie hanging over his shoulder. By morning there wasn't so much as a wine cork on display for her to get all stressed and worked up about.

Only difference this time around was now he kept himself on an even shorter leash. He aimed to get in a couple good mouthfuls throughout the day as well. As long as he always stayed a little drunk he wouldn't lose control. Because he couldn't just disappear in a booze fog and leave Effie on her own.

He tipped the bottle up. Her face, tight with disappointment, flashed before his mind's eye, but he brushed the image away so he could take another sip.

It was walking on a knife-edge. He knew that better than anyone, but what options did he have? He would be of no use to Effie or the kids in withdrawal.

He zipped the bag up and returned it to the cabinet. His elbow nudged into the pile of books by the toilet and almost knocked it over.

"1000 names for your bundle of joy" announced the one on top. Silly title.

He picked it up. Green, yellow and orange arrow flags stuck out from between the pages. If memory served him right, yellow was for the names she liked, orange was for the names she really liked and green gave him headaches.

-He flipped through it. Already knew what he'd find there.

Amandalyn. "Worthy of love."

With a heart drawn around it.

Silly, ol' Eff.

He turned to a different page. Over at the boy's section, still on the letter 'A'.

And yep, there it was.

He stared at it for a long time. How odd to see the name printed in ink like this. He was only used to the big, jiggly letters written with lead pencils and crayons.

Effie didn't know. How could she know? Sae wasn't a blabbermouth, neither were the kids and most importantly, Effie would never insist on the name Amandalyn if she knew the connection.

It was all just a coincidence. He didn't even see it himself. The resemblance. Not straight away. Not consciously.

But perhaps his immediate veto of the name wasn't so much that it was long or unusual. It just reminded him too much of his brother.

Amadeus. Amandalyn. They even had similar origins. To love and be loved.

He heaved a sigh and put the book back where he found it. His shirt clung to him with sweat and he pulled it over his head.

Standing in the shower, under the cool, soothing rain he brushed his teeth with such vigor it foamed pink around his lips. He spat and reached for the pocket of his bathrobe where he kept the peppermints.

As a boy he sometimes watched the older kids, all scrawny, gaunt teenagers, gathered by the slag heap where they passed a cigarette or a quarter bottle of white liquor between them.

Before they went home they always stripped the needles off the nearest pine and chewed the stuff, to cover any tell-tale breath.

This was his second-best choice.

Still chewing, he squirted a blob of shampoo onto his palm, since he was already in here. While he massaged it into his hair, Amadeus's grinning face floated back into his head, followed by that same old pinch in his heart.

His brother would have loved it if someone was named after him. Absolutely. The shy and withdrawn little boy who hardly ever spoke to people outside the family would tell everyone. Sae, the Hendersons, his school teacher, the Mellarks. He wouldn't shut up about it.

Good God, my life for a drink.

He tossed another handful of peppermints into his mouth and with a towel around his hips he walked into the kitchen.

"You hungry? We can order some…"

He silenced at the sight. Effie stood by the dish washer, her back to him. The china clattered as she put the plates and cups away in the cabinets. A house chore that was getting increasingly difficult as her body took up more and more space.

Her once swift motions were slower now because of the pregnancy but Haymitch could still tell she was out of sorts.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she muttered. "I'm just cleaning up."

She took the soup tureen and tried to put it away on a high shelf. A light groan slipped between her lips and Haymitch was by her side in half a heartbeat.

"Don't do that," he said and took the bowl. He put it on the shelf with ease and got a clear look on Effie's face. Her flushed cheeks, her tight lips and he realized she was barely holding it together.

"What's the matter?" His eyes flitted to her belly. "You're not feeling alright? Is it…"

"No, no," she reassured him. "We're alright."

"What's happened?"

Effie rubbed her palms against her upper arms, like suddenly feeling cold. "Nothing. I just got a call. While you were in the shower. That kind."

Haymitch's face tightened.

"Gloria?"

"No, I don't think so. I didn't recognize any of their voices."

"What'd they say?"

"The usual. 'I hope they're stillborn. We're all keeping our fingers crossed that you'll bleed out. If you had any common decency you would jump in the river."

Her words made his head throb. That's how tightly he pressed his jaws shut.

"They're nothing," he said and it was a miracle his voice didn't quiver. "Less than nothing."

And I'm gonna beat those assholes to a pulp! June and Annabel's got caller ID, don't they?

"It's so ridiculous," Effie sniffed and brushed a tear before it could fall. "I should be thick-skinned by now. At least Gloria dared to tell it to my face."

"Shit, Eff," he mumbled. He tried to pull her into a hug but she wouldn't let him hold her. Not for long.

"Please," she said and pulled away. "I'm sorry, I… I need a minute, OK?"

True to character, he thought. She always excused herself when she needed a good cry.

"Sure," he said. "I'm gonna make some green pea soup. For later?"

"Mm-hm," she said over her shoulder and managed a smile. "Sounds delicious."

Usually when these things happened Effie was able to brush it off. Or got spitting mad, which was better. This incident had clearly gotten to her.

He wished she would talk to him about it. Stressing over what went on in Effie's head like this only made him constipated.

Course, he thought. What's to say she didn't feel the exact same way about him? Yeah, that wasn't even a question.

Night came. Haymitch lay on his bed for a change and stared up at the ceiling with his hand against the back of his head.

It was well past midnight and Effie was still up and about. He heard her when she left her room but she didn't come back.

It wasn't the first time he listened to Effie's slow footfalls after dark. The babies kept her up at night. Walking helped ease some of the discomfort.

It was always the same route. Bedroom, kitchen. living room and back again. Bedroom, kitchen, living room. Bedroom, kitchen, living room. The sound made him feel bad. He put Effie in that condition, after all. Well, not all by himself.

He wanted to help, of course he did. Every time. And yet he always remained in the bay window. Drunk and unsteady he was useless anyway. He would only make her nauseous and she had enough of that from the pregnancy, without his help.

He felt the thick beat of music far away. Another mind-numbing party for mind-numbing people with so little going on in their lives they got a kick out of harassing pregnant ladies.

Finally he got up. Hid his silver hip flask inside a house plant, just to be safe. It was still almost full. He hadn't taken a drop since the shower.

Her heard her murmurs from afar. Effie sat on the couch, wearing the same dress and dark, silk stockings from earlier. The over-sized bag lay open by her feet and all the items were rounded up in neat rows beside her and on the coffee table.

"Socks, caps, pacifiers," Effie murmured and counted them off her fingers. "Nappies, sleepers, onesies, baby bottles…" She looked up at the sound of his cough and flushed pink.

"Good thing you thought about re-packing the hospital bag," Haymitch said, leaned against the doorframe. "You've only done it… what? 16 times?"

"I just wanted to make sure," Effie said. "It would be so our luck if we realize we don't have any receiving blankets the moment my water breaks."

She lifted a stray diaper from the bottom of the bag, silently counting again.

"Alright, sweetheart. Break time."

"Hey!" Effie protested when he took the bag. "I have a system!" But she spoke to deaf ears. Haymitch just stuffed the items inside, all at random. "Oh, that's splendid, just splendid! Now I have to start over from the beginning!"

He zipped it up and joined her on the couch. Without a word he cupped her head, thumbs just behind her ears and rubbed his fingertips in gentle, circular motions.

Effie groaned in relief and closed her eyes.

It wasn't the first time he gave her a massage. As her belly got bigger and bulkier it put a strain on the rest of her body. Her legs were swollen, her muscles all tight and aching and he did what he could to make her relax. He had a knack for it too. To their equal surprise.

"Maybe you should consider a career in massage therapy," Effie joked, after the first few times.

"Finally gonna tell me what's the matter, sweetheart?" he asked as he moved down to her shoulders. "Got all worked up 'bout the birth? That it?"

Effie didn't response but she didn't have to. Her silence told him everything.

"Well," he said and slid his palm down the side of her spine, close by her right shoulder blade and relaxed the knots he found there. "If only there was someone here that you could talk to. Someone who's also in this, neck-deep."

"I can handle it," Effie mumbled. "I've already done this once before, after all. Really, Haymitch, it's fine."

In answer, Haymitch closed his hand around her wrist, fingertips right over her pulse.

"Yeah, sure, sweetheart," he snorted. "You're so calm you're practically a vegetable."

Effie breathed a sigh. Dropped the façade.

"Fine," she said. "I'm terrified. I just… I'm terrified."

"So tell me about it."

"And get you all freaked out?"

"Well, that ship sailed a long time ago, sweetheart."

They had never talked about the birth before. Not really. Not the actual experience. The mechanics of it all. Frankly, just the word alone, "birth", made him want to run and hide under the bed with his hands clamped over his ears.

But he saved those feelings for another day. They couldn't both be scared shitless at the same time.

"Remember what the doctor told us," he said when Effie wouldn't speak. "It's all going as planned. They're in the right position and everything. And since it's twins, it might even make the labor easier."

Effie huffed a breath and shook her head. Exhausted.

"I wish." Her hand came to a rest against her belly. "You know I'm really looking forward to seeing them…"

"Course."

"To hold them, get to know them. It's just… I'm terrified how much it's going to hurt. How long it will take. And I know what I'm about to say is not rational…"

"'But?'" he coaxed.

She looked at him. No tears shimmered in her blue eyes now but they were redder than his.

"I'm afraid I will get punished. For what I did during the Games."

"Eff…"

"I didn't get to keep Alex. What if something happens to the twins because I…"

"Don't." He reached in and grasped her hand, the one on her belly. "No, don't look away. Look at me. Nothing's gonna happen, sweetheart. OK? You're doing great. And if karma's gonna come around and bite us in the ass, mine's in much graver danger. I did worse things than you, princess."

"That's not true," she mumbled. "That was all Snow."

"So by that logic, karma owes me then. And those two cooking in there are my kids too, not just yours. Besides, if we're gonna go down that road, you've already been punished, Eff, plenty. You were imprisoned, you were tortured, you got pregnant with my spawn. Call it a day, sweetheart. If you keep on thinking like that, you're gonna end up like me so… better stop."

He gave her hand a squeeze. Effie swallowed and without a word she lay down on her side, with her head against his lap.

This was a scene he remembered well, from their Games years. Course, most of the time the roles were reversed. With him seeking her comfort.

But I can get used to this, he thought and brushed a wayward lock of hair from her face.

The clock ticked away the minutes as Haymitch gently knead the tight areas in Effie's back. Her breathing was slower now. So slow he reckoned she'd fallen asleep and he nearly flinched when she spoke up next.

"You will be there too, won't you?"

The question was so unexpected, so outrageous it stunned him. Stunned him Avox mute. He just stared at her, like a fish.

"Kane wasn't." The words were very hushed. "But you will? I don't have to do it alone?"

"Course I'll be there. What kinda question is that?" He sounded like a whiny kid but he couldn't help it. The fact that Effie could ever doubt if he'd be in the room when his children were born, that fucking hurt. "Seriously, Eff? You think I'm that guy?"

His hand went to his pocket, on autopilot, but of course his hip flask wasn't there. He cussed and said,

"I ain't goin' nowhere, sweetheart. Katniss and Peeta would fucking kill me. You go around worrying 'bout this kinda stuff?"

Again, her silence told him everything he needed to know.

"Effie," he sighed. "Don't be so bloody paranoid. Try and relax a little. OK?"

"What are you doing?" she asked when she felt him move underneath her. He carefully lifted her head from his lap. "Don't be mad."

"Again, sweetheart. Stop. Being. Paranoid." He put a pillow under her head. "Just lie down, breathe and unwind. You're making people for God's sake."

And out of all places, Haymitch headed for the piano. He pulled out the chair and took a seat, his face a distorted reflection in the shiny cherry wood.

Effie just gaped. Her head whirl with questions. Questions and memories. Of Annie and Finn and a mountain air and Haymitch in a corner in the dead of night. Eyes vacant and with blood on his face.

"Haymitch, don't torture yourself."

"You worry too much, sweetheart. No need. I already do it for the both of us."

He lifted the lid. Revealed those rows of ebony black and cream white ivories, his face impossible to read. He rested his fingers on top of them.

"Here goes.".

And he played a melody Effie had never heard before. Soft and gentle notes that picked up and grew, swelled, only to soften again. Happy notes and sad, all at the same time. The music washed through her, all around her, like a warm sea. Vibrant with life.

The babies stirred within her, like they were just as curious, wondering what those sounds were. Where they came from.

What was it? Another mountain air? An old ballad sung around the fire for as long as there lived people in Haymitch's part of the world?

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and all at once she was five again, wobbling down Miri Road on her first bike.

Father panted as he ran behind her, holding the saddle.

"Not so fast!" mother called and wrung her hands. "You'll hurt yourself! The dress was really expensive! Oh, why did I agree to this!? Young ladies shouldn't ride bicycles!"

"Let go, daddy!" Effie said, out of breath. "I can do it. Let go of me!"

And all at once it was only her. Her and the bike and the road and the wind.

"Look mommy! Daddy, look! Look what I can do!"

And the image changed. Suddenly it wasn't little Euphemia Trinket who rode a bike down Miri Road.

It was her son and daughter. Their son and daughter.

"Careful you two," Haymitch called, hand pressed against the stitches in his side. High on her children's happiness, Effie failed to muffle her chuckles and she steadied him before he collapsed.

"Look mommy! Daddy, look!"

Smiling through tears Effie opened her eyes she didn't even realize she closed and watched Haymitch by the piano.

It was like the years fell off him as he played. Like he was that boy again who won the second Quarter Quell. No, before that. A person who had never set his foot inside an arena.

Effie played too, a little but not like this. Not nearly as well. Not even in the same neighborhood. And she only ever did it because her mother insisted. Because it was expected of a Capitol girl. Her heart was never in it.

This was something else. Even a stranger could see this was not a person who played because he had to.

The last brittle note faded into silence and Haymitch sat still. If Effie's mind had been in the future, Haymitch's was in the past. Even from this distance she could see his hands trembling.

Then he turned and looked at her and she saw something that surprised her even more. Playing had flushed his cheeks. From grief and heartache but not only. There was something else there too. Like an after shake of an old joy. An old love, half forgotten.

Effie occupied most of the couch so Haymitch sat down on the floor, arm slumped against the seat, their faces on the same level.

"What was that?" she asked softly.

Haymitch shrugged.

"Just something I wrote. A long time ago."

He leaned into his palm and rested his free hand on her belly.

"I think they liked it," said Effie. "I know I did."

But it was like Haymitch didn't even hear her. He brushed her stomach in soft strokes. He'd done so a lot lately, to his own surprise. It got easier and easier. Like all he had to do was give himself a little time to get used to it.

It was an odd sort of craving and one he couldn't be without.

Effie brushed her fingers absent-mindedly against his hair, his neck. Just like in the old days. Way back in another time, another life.

"I hope they take after you," she said. "I hope they have your eyes, your hair, your smile, your heart. Your heart, most of all."

"God forbid," Haymitch mumbled. "Nah, I'm just glad if they get my sense of fashion." He brushed his fingertips just below her belly button. Felt something there. Like a rhythmic twitching. Too weak to be actual kicks.

"What're they up to now?"

Effie smiled.

"I'm afraid one of them's got a case of the hiccups."

"Really?" He brushed his thumb soothingly up and down. "Sit on your head, have a drink."

"You did not just say that!" Effie chuckled.

"What? Works every time." They stirred underneath his palm while he spoke. He liked to think they knew he was here. Sensed it somehow. "What else can they do?"

"Well," said Effie. "They can dream."

"'bout what?"

"What, indeed. And they recognize our voices."

"Both of us?"

"Both of us."

He felt another little nudge. On impulse he leaned in and brushed his lips against her belly. Twice.

It was the first time he ever did something like that but he knew in his heart that it wouldn't be the last.

When he looked back at Effie, their faces were so close their noses nearly touched. Her heart fluttered in her chest like it always did when she gazed into those kind, gray, beautiful eyes.

"Hey," he said. "That name you talked about. We can call her Amandalyn, if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah. My broth…" His voice faltered. "Name's kinda been growing on me, you know. Besides, it's like you said. It's not like we're ever gonna call her that. She'll be Amy to everyone."

Effie smiled.

"Then you must choose a name for our boy."

"Yeah? What if I pick something awful?"

"You won't," she said and had barely finished the sentence before their lips met.

Afterward, neither of them knew who initiated it. Which one of them moved in first. Like their pregnancy, it just happened. They fell into one another, as surely as a fork falls to the ground when you drop it.

"Maybe we shouldn't," Haymitch mumbled, but the words were so weak it was pathetic. His hand which had rested on her tummy all this time moved up until he cupped her cheek. His body acted on its own now while his mind and reason took the backseat. Effie sighed with pleasure as he deepened the kiss and he saw his own lust reflected in her eyes.

"Take me to bed."

It was so late. Effie's room was full of shadows. He pulled her inside, their hands entwined like a pair of virgins on their wedding night.

He only ever let go to make sure the curtains were pulled, the blinds shut. His heart beat so hard and thick it made him butter-fingered but none of those nosey neighbors would get a show from this house tonight.

Effie stood where he left her, in the middle of the room.

"No, keep it dark," she said when he reached for the table lamp. Even in this dim light he caught her blush. "I don't look the same anymore."

"I kinda figured that one out m'self, believe it or not."

"I mean, I'm all sweaty and… I have stretch marks and my legs… well, I haven't been able to shave them properly … I c-can't quite… reach…"

She was stuttering for he had grasped her hand and pulled her to him.

"Always so superficial."

Despite the hot flashes, her fingers were ice-cold. Clasped between his warm ones he brought them to his lips. Effie swallowed thickly, from the sweet desire those simple kisses evoked in her.

"Come here, sweetheart." He brushed a kiss to her hot cheek, so near his nose got smushed. Effie sighed and breathed in the scent of his skin that never failed to intoxicate her. Especially now, fresh from the shower.

She snuggled against his chest, as close as her big belly allowed. He sought her lips in a deep kiss and she moaned. He'd always been the greatest kisser.

Grounded by his steady arms, Effie buried her hands in those soft, brittle tresses of dirty blonde hair. Her dress loosened, pooled, swam on her as he tugged the zipper down.

Effie groaned against his mouth and yet her hand pressed to her bosom, delaying the moment when the dress would drop to her ankles.

Her face was red as a stop sign and she gazed up at him, almost apologetically. Afraid he'd mock her for being self-conscious or sigh in frustration. She wouldn't bear it if he did either.

He didn't. Instead he took a little step back and started to unbutton his shirt. It was quick work since most buttons were already missing. He shouldered out of it and dropped it in the old rocking chair.

His hands went to the waistband of those knotty old sweatpants. He always did killer double knots, impossible to undo even for her and he made the process short and just pulled his pants and underpants down in one go. Pushed the garment backward with a light foot.

Mercy, he was fine, striking.

Effie still held on to her dress but there wasn't much strength left in her grip. Not with Haymitch standing there stark naked in front of her and she could see with her own eyes he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

He took her in his arms and when he kissed her this time she gave in to it, completely. She wound her arms around his neck, the dress pooled to the floor and she stepped out of it, safe in the knowledge he wouldn't let her fall.

It was the first time they ever undressed completely before they lay down on a bed. All to make it easier for Effie in her current condition.

Haymitch drank in the sight of her. He couldn't look away. Couldn't keep his hands away. Everything about her was rounder now, heavier, softer. The curve of her hips, the swell of her belly, the shape of her breasts. He didn't see anything he didn't like. She was his Effie. Beautiful in a new and exciting way.

The dull headache had diminished to almost nothing. Now all he wanted was her. The only crave stronger than his crave for a drink.

He felt home. Out of the woods. Home.

Still conscious of the two between them his hand found her tummy again. Tried to detect any sudden jerks or movements from freaked out twins.

"Sure it's safe?" he whispered, forehead against hers.

"As long as you don't put any pressure on my belly, we're OK."

She brushed her lips against the hollow of his throat, feather-light and Haymitch screwed his eyes shut. She did that sometimes. Used to do, he should say. Kissed him and caressed him in his most exposed, tender places.

You’d think after his time in the arena he wouldn’t like it. To be at someone’s mercy like that, in lack of a better word.

But like in so many other ways, Effie was the exception. With her, he let his guard down. Allowed himself to be vulnerable. That’s how he got his fucking heart crushed.

And yet, here he was again. Doing the same thing.

Memories preyed on his mind, called for attention. Memories of an icy platform. A train only minutes from departure. And Effie, her tummy still flat and with tears streaming down her face.

But he brushed the image away, just like in the shower.

He didn't want to think about then. He didn't want to think about later. All that mattered was now.

Effie lay down on the bed and when he reached for the table lamp this time she didn't stop him. Her hair fell in sandy waves over the pillow. She smiled at him, naked and rosy.

"It's not fair, sweetheart."

"What?"

"Next to you I look like something the cat dragged in."

She laughed behind her hand and those little crow's feet that he loved appeared by her eyes.

"Then it's a cat with excellent taste."

She pulled him to her and he crawled in with her, on top of her but still with plenty of space between them. He scooted lower, a little spooked they were actually four people in this room.

"You OK in there?" he murmured, cheek against her tummy. "Maybe you two could just… look the other way for the next half hour or so? That'd be great."

Effie raked her fingers through his hair. Haymitch was the mother hen in this family, no doubt.

But the smile soon melted from her face when she felt his hands on her. Those expert hands that could be just as rough as they were gentle and now tenderer than ever.

Her socks were still on and Haymitch cupped her calf as he eased them off, one after another. He ran his fingers along the soft, blonde down on her leg.

Effie opened her mouth but before she could say anything he dropped a kiss to her inner thigh and the words turned into a moan.

"That OK?"

"Yeah," she nodded. These were the only moments she spoke in that manner, allowed herself such words. "Don't stop."

He kissed her again, closer to his goal. Effie screwed her eyes shut. Groaned at the sensation of his stubble against the sensitive skin. He gave her knee a little nudge, to part her legs further and found no resistance there.

"Ohh!" Effie pressed her knuckles into the headboard as the pleasure built. Haymitch's face was now between her legs. She couldn't quite see him, not with her belly in the way, but she felt it. What he was up to. "Oh, God!"

He held on to her hip to ground himself and help his quest while his free hand roamed the curves of her body. He may not know his way around the Capitol but he knew his way around her. How to kiss her and where to kiss her, how to move his tongue and when to add more pressure, bringing her higher, higher, higher.

She cried out in pleasure as the orgasm flooded her limbs, her brain, her whole being. Her legs quivered so badly it was a miracle she didn't shake the bed loose. Her muscles contracted and Haymitch thrust his tongue in time with them. Added one delicious second to the next until she lay in the tangle of sheets, slack and limp and spent.

"Goodness," she panted and rested her palm against her forehead. It was slick with sweat. "You are certainly not rusty."

Haymitch wiped his mouth on the sheets and pulled himself up to her again, face to face. His hand went to her belly, first thing.

"All good?"

"All good."

But despite her words, the crease between Haymitch's eyebrows deepened.