Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part 1 : The Quarter Quell Announcement

Effie’s quietly humming, assessing the state of her favorite pink wig, she’s supposed to watch the television but it fails to grasp her attention tonight. She has already seen every one of Katniss’ dresses and the interview between Caesar Flickerman and Cinna doesn’t really interest her. She’s barely listening to their chit-chat, too busy wondering if she can afford another wig this month. She has seen one in a shop, down the main road, that caught her eye. It’s golden, just like Katniss’ pin and she thinks it would go nicely with most of her dresses but it’s a little expensive and being an escort for District Twelve doesn’t really pay that well. Oh, she had a raise after the last Games, of course, because she belongs to the victors team, but… life isn’t actually cheap when you want beautiful things.

She loves her flat, despite the fact that it’s a little tinier than she would like. She made up for the size with the furnishing, only the best and the last fashion for her home. The walls are painted white because it gives the illusion that there is much more space than there actually is, she has a lovely shade of pink velvet sofa that is precisely the same color as the carpet in her bedroom – she does love pink – she has a big television and, of course, she recently had the last model of window set up. With that one, she only has to push a button to look out on a meadow or a forest or anywhere really… It was a little too expensive and she definitely shouldn’t have because, now, she has to go for a whole month without buying any clothes or she will have to call her father and ask for money – which she hates to do. That means the golden wig is out of the question, she concludes, just as the first shot of Katniss appears on screen.

The girl looks absolutely gorgeous in every dress she has tried, but Effie’s absolute favorite is the ivory satin one. It’s not the most sophisticated but sophisticated isn’t really Katniss’ style. The girl is too wild and too unpolished, she looks ill at ease in the more elaborate dresses.

She discards the old wig and takes off her shoes when Caesar asks them to stay tuned for the next big event of the evening. She rubs the sole of her right foot, unable to quell the uneasiness that swirls in her stomach. She used to be excited when the time for the Games grew nearer but it’s getting harder and harder every year to feel anything other than repulsion. She picks out the names of children who go to their death and she’s not so sure it’s such an honor anymore. She takes care of them, she helps them and then… She forces the faces of all the dead tributes out of her mind. She remembers them all, the children, but it doesn’t help to dwell on that, so she pretends she doesn’t.

Panem anthem has just ended when she gives up on rubbing the pain away – damn shoes! But they are so pretty, they practically begged her to buy them even if they were really uncomfortable – she takes the glass of pink liquor she has poured herself earlier on and sips from it slowly. She doesn’t usually drink alone – or at all – but tonight she’s tired and she wishes she could have spent a little while longer in District Twelve instead of going there and back again in a single day. It had been exhausting to keep everyone on schedule the day before.

On the television, President Snow rambles on and on about the origins of the Games and Effie wishes he would just hurry up because she would like to find something funnier to watch. He looks tired, she thinks, just as he begins to recall the previous Quarter Quell. She remembers that one well. It was Haymitch’s year. She was only a girl at the time but she can remember rooting for him in a feast of defiance against her older sister who had only eyes for the tributes from District One and Two. Her sister had said he looked like a shabby underdog but Effie had never thought so. He had been sixteen when he had gone into the arena and he had been very appealing to her ten years old self. Shabby, yes. Scruffy, even. But he had something pure, something the others didn’t have. She had actually been excited when she was told she would be working with him, the first time she had been appointed to Twelve as an escort. She had been quickly disillusioned, however.

Haymitch Abernathy is insufferable.

And yet, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“And now we honor our third Quarter Quell,” says President Snow and she watches with attention, now, wondering what they will have to face this year. It will be better with Katniss and Peeta as mentors, together they will be able to keep Haymitch in check. This year, she will make sure he doesn’t drink before the reaping because she’s damned if she’s going to do a repeat of last year. She’s musing about possibly arriving earlier than usual, the day before perhaps, when President Snow finally opens the envelop marked with a 75. “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

She doesn’t understand at once what it means. She’s still plotting several ways to prevent Haymitch of indulging in alcohol before the reaping when the words finally hit her. Existing pool of victors.  

The glass shatters when it slips from her numb fingers.

“No!” she shrieks and the word seems to take up all the space in her flat. Suddenly there’s not enough air to breathe and she can see fluttering black points dancing in front of her eyes.

Caesar Flickerman is talking again now and she blindly feels around for the remote. She turns off the television but she isn’t sure the abrupt silence isn’t worse. It’s too sharp and deafening and her breath is stuck in her throat.

Existing pool of victors.

How could they do that? How could they show Katniss in all those beautiful dresses and then…

She feels sick all of a sudden.

Katniss is going back to the games, it’s a fact, but she won’t go there alone and there won’t be any berries this time. Only one of them has a chance of getting out of the games alive and Effie starts to cry right there. It’s unfair. It’s so, so unfair. Peeta and Katniss shouldn’t have to go through that again, they already…

That’s when the insidious thought comes into her head. What if it isn’t Peeta who goes with her? Existing pool of victors. She tries to stop weeping, tries to get up and put herself back together but all she manages to do is slip off the couch and sob a little more.

It’s not only sadness she feels. She’s not only afraid for her friends. It’s despair. Pure and plain despair.

If it isn’t Peeta… If she pulls out Haymitch’s name on reaping day…

She puts her fist in her mouth and bites in a hopeless attempt at keeping the panic at bay. She loves the children, it’s awful enough to imagine them hurt or worse, but Haymitch? She can’t lose Haymitch! She just can’t. She won’t be able to handle the games without him. They bicker and they mock each other and they do their best to annoy each other to death, but they’re friends. They’ve been friends for years, now. She can’t lose him. Just the thought of seeing him running for his life for the amusement of faceless crowds make her so angry. She doesn’t want him in the fray.

If Katniss and Peeta have to fight for their lives, she wants him to be next to her and to hold her hand just like he did last year, when Katniss presented Peeta with a handful of poisoned berries. She knows he didn’t even realize he was reaching for her at that moment but it had meant the world to her. He had held her hand tightly in his, muttering how the girl was completely mad, and she doesn’t know if he was more afraid or excited. For her, that moment had been exhilarating, and not only because of what was happening of the screen.

She loved the way her hand felt in his. She loves the way he always makes sure she’s okay, even if he pretends he doesn’t care. She loves the way his eyes trail on her when she wears red, he loves her in red, she knows because he told her once, when he was too drunk to remember it. She loves how he doesn’t think she’s stupid, even when he implies the opposite. She loves how, during Victory Tour, he got angry every time a Peacekeeper has gotten a little too rough with her.

And her heart aches for him, most of the time, even when she’s fuming against him for a reason or another, because he’s a little bit broken and he doesn’t deserve it.

He can’t go back to the arena. She knows, with a definite kind of certainty, that it will kill him even if he manages to win.

And she can’t bear the idea. She can’t bear the idea of him in that place with all those people trying to kill him, with Katniss trying to kill him. Katniss would. Effie knows she would. She’s a pragmatic kind of girl and she has Peeta to go back to. Who does Haymitch have?

Her, he has her.

She crawls more than she walks to the window frame that take up an entire wall of the small living-room and tries to breathe. In and out, she tells herself, in and out. But it doesn’t work. She can’t stop crying, piercing sobs that leave her hunched over and unable to think properly. She’s terrified and she feels lonely and she aches for a hand in hers, for arms around her, for the smell of whiskey and after-shave. Carefully, she brings her legs against her chest and hugs herself. If she closes her eyes, she can pretend it’s him, even if he had never held her that way. She’s good at pretending.

Slowly, the tears stop, leaving her exhausted and no less scared. She will be the one to draw out the name… If she pull out his…

The remote must have fallen from the couch with her because it’s just in her reach, barely but it is. She grabs it and fumbles with the various buttons for a while but, in the end, she wins and instead of one of the Capitol busy streets, she finds herself facing a meadow, just like the one in District Twelve. She wonders where they are right now, what they are doing… Are they together? Are they already thinking in terms of enemies? Will Katniss and Peeta turn against Haymitch? She doesn’t think they will. They’re children, only children…

And yet it must be them. It must be Peeta. She prays it will be Peeta. She won’t be able to bear it if it’s Haymitch. She won’t.

She doesn’t know how long she stays like that, sitting in front of a meadow that’s not really there. She doesn’t know much except that Haymitch can’t go back. It will kill him and it will kill her and she can be as down-to-earth as Katniss if she has to be.

She will buy the golden wig, she thinks, just as the phone rings.

She must have spent hours lost in her own thoughts because when she does get up, she’s stiff and her legs hurt. Her voice is not as steady as she would have liked when she answers the phone, but it’s the best she can do and Peeta doesn’t seem to mind. He asks her for recordings of past Games and she agrees to send them to him as soon as she can find them. Tomorrow, she promises. She feels guilty when she asks how they all are doing, because she can hear it in Peeta’s voice ; she can hear the same dread that laces hers and, yet, here she is, wishing he would go back instead of Haymitch when he knows Katniss doesn’t have a choice. She says she’s sorry before hanging up. She’s not sure he heard her. She’s not sure she wants to be heard.

She has made her decision. Haymitch can’t go back. She will buy the golden wig.

°¤°¤°¤°

“On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

Haymitch turns off the television and stumbles to the kitchen. He doesn’t trouble himself with glasses, he just takes the bottle out of the cabinet and collapses on a chair. He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. He really should have seen that one coming. He swallows a mouthful of the awful white stuff Ripper has the nerve to call liquor and tries not to wallow too much in his misery. Could be worse. They could have shot a bullet at his head without any warnings. Yeah… If he had been given the choice, he would have taken the bullet.

He closes his eyes and he’s so empty inside. It’s odd because he feels like he should be angry or scared or something but he isn’t. He’s empty; empty of fear, of wrath, of despair… He’s just a shell. A shell of a tribute.

He slides his hunting knife out of the waistband of his pants and looks at it for the first time in forever. He never parts from it but he doesn’t look at it if he can’t help it. It’s a constant reminder of who he is, what he is : a murderer. The blade glints softly under the kitchen lights, like a dreadful foretelling of what’s to come.

He feels his presence before the boy calls out to him. His knife is already in his fist, ready to fight, old habits die hard. But Peeta is not there to fight and he relaxes a little in his chair, he even lets the boy push the bottle on the other side of the table. He’s not particularly surprised to see him, just like he’s sure Katniss has crawled in a hole somewhere and will only resurface when she finally realizes she isn’t the only one affected.

“So, what’s it going to be?” he asks, before Peeta can launch himself into one of his convincing speech. It’s too bad Katniss has become a symbol because Peeta would have made the rebels’ task a lot more easier. The boy could turn a crowd like nobody. And Haymitch knows why he’s there, of course. Why does Peeta do anything? “You want me to go in there and make sure she comes out?”

He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or to cry. He has only one thing in his head and it’s this awful belief : back to the arena. Back to hell. It has been bad enough last time, he had to go with three people he knew, and he had known two of them very well, but this time? This time it’s not only three people. It’s all the other victors and they’re all friends of a sort. Some even have children. How sick is that? How sick is it to make those children orphans ? No more than to send them to their death, he guesses, but still.

“I want to go back.”

It’s not a request but an order and Haymitch does laugh then.

“I want to go with her.” Peeta says, in a matter of fact sort of voice. “I can protect her better that way and you will do your best to make sure she wins this.”

He’s so sure of himself, so self-righteous… It makes Haymitch a little sick to only think about this. He wonders how long it will take Katniss to do the math, to come begging at his door to take Peeta’s place in the arena… She can delude herself all she wants into thinking the whole love story is for the show, he doesn’t believe it. She’s young and confused and he hopes to god she figures it out before it’s too late because here they were, at the edge of too late.

“You owe me, Haymitch.”

“I do, now, don’t I?” he mocks him, because he doesn’t owe the boy anything. He doesn’t owe anyone anything, that’s how it works when you’re a victor. You’re free, you’re safe. In theory. The reality, of course, is a little more gloomier than either Katniss or Peeta realize.

“You chose her in the last Game.” Peeta insists. “You helped her. It’s my turn, you help me, now. And I want her to win, so, really, we want the same thing.”

He would like that drink now but he knows that the boy won’t let him touch the bottle until he has agreed to his ridiculous scheme and he doesn’t want to fight. He wants to drown in alcohol and forget.

He should be relieved, he thinks. He should accept Peeta’s offer and be glad for the opportunity of being able to breathe a little while longer. But does it really make a difference? Inside or outside the arena, those Games will be unbearable : he will have to watch his friends be slaughtered one after the other by their other friends or go back in, protect Katniss and hope someone finishes him quickly.

“If I really do owe you, shouldn’t I try to save you this time?” he asks. “You could stay out of it. Be safe. Have a life.”

“There’s no life without Katniss.”

He really means it, Haymitch realizes, it’s written in his eyes, plain for everyone to see. He can’t help but smile bitterly. He remembers love. He remembers her dark blue eyes and her long black hair. He remembers the life they planned to built. He remembers the agony when they killed her along with the rest of his family. He remembers he had swore to himself he would never ever again feel something as powerful as that. He had lied to himself of course. You could try but you could never stop yourself from caring for people. He cares for Katniss and he cares for Peeta and he also cares for… But he doesn’t want to think about her. Not here, not now, not in this kitchen filled with grief and anguish.

“Then, shouldn’t you try to stay alive in case she makes it ?” he scoffs. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Do you?” Peeta replies, with a little too much perceptiveness.

“Not really, no.” he lies. Because that’s just the thing, isn’t it? Going back into the arena is the nightmare of every victor but, deep down, it’s also everything they crave. It changes you, the arena. You’re a kid when you go in, and you’re a monster when you come out; there’s only two choices after that, either you reign in the beast and you become something wrecked and incomplete or you don’t and you embrace the violence and the blood thirst. This is the difference between a winner and a survivor. The winner wants to go back to kill some more, the survivor doesn’t want to go back because he’s afraid this time he won’t be able to do it. It’s the ultimate redemption. “But I don’t exactly have a life to lose, you see?” There’s nothing in his future except alcohol poisoning and maybe, if he’s lucky, a few possibilities to make Effie Trinket go mad. He does love it when she’s too angry for words and hovers over him, speechless. Usually she gives as good as she gets, but in those too rare instances, she’s all flushed and fiery and she looks so fierce he wants nothing more than to… Those are treacherous thoughts he doesn’t like to dwell on. “It seems to me, your best bet would be to send me back with her and hope she makes it.”

“It would be, if I trusted you.” he shots back.

Haymitch is hurt but doesn’t let it show, he snorts a little and finally reaches for the bottle. There’s a tremor in his hand, they both pretend they don’t notice it.

“And here I thought we were all good friends.” He tries not to sound too bitter because the boy is right of course. He’s finally learning.

“There are no friends in the Games, only allies, and those have a time stamp on them.” He’s not used to hear Peeta speak in that sarcastic tone and he’s not sure he likes it. It doesn’t suit the boy. “Katniss is a winner. Once she’s in the arena she will fight to the death to come back to her family, that’s why she has a chance. I knew that last year and you knew it too.”

Haymitch doesn’t try to explain the difference between winners and survivors, Peeta wouldn’t understand. He’s something else entirely. Katniss dragged him back but without her…

“You’re like her.” The boy says, then, and he’s not sure if it’s a compliment or an accusation. “You won’t be able to stop when you’re back in there. You will try to win and you will end up against her at some point. I won’t.”

It was a sound point and once the idea is lodged in his brain he can’t wipe it away. He imagine his hands around Katniss’ throat and the pleas he doesn’t want to hear. Her nails scratch his arms, his wrists, she opens her mouth, but he squeezes and he squeezes and her eyes go glassy and, just like that, she stops breathing. It’s so vivid his hands begin to shake, the bottle rattles against the table and he brings it to his lips and swallows another mouthful to still his nerves.

“Tell you what, boy.” He hopes Peeta understands he doesn’t want to talk anymore. He just wants to drink and drink and forget until Katniss finally comes out of her hiding place and begins the conversation all over again. “Let’s see how the reaping goes.”

“I want your word. I want your word you won’t volunteer for me.”

What a strange world they live in… Ask him for his word to not try and take his place in the arena… What is his word worth anyway? He just wants this conversation to be over.

“Yes.” he sighs. “Yes.”

It doesn’t mean he won’t though… He’s not sure. Katniss will ask him, he knows that. He has always put Katniss first, Peeta’s right. She’s his favorite. It all depends on which name Effie draws out first… Oh, god, Effie. Effie will be the one to officially send them back.

“Thank you.” Peeta breathes out and, all of a sudden, he looks small and frightened once again. “I should try to call Effie, see if she can send us the recordings of the other Games… We should be prepared.”

The boy stands up and starts to walk away but he stops at the entrance to the kitchen and Haymitch wishes he was gone already. He wants to drink in peace. He wants to forget and it’s harder and harder to get drunk, these days.

“You’re going to be alright, aren’t you?” Peeta seems unsure. “I can leave you alone, you won’t do… You won’t do anything rash?”

What does he think he will do? Off himself? He could. It would be the best way to tell the Capitol to go screw itself, but he won’t. Of course, he won’t.

“Tell Effie…” he starts, but he can’t finish. He doesn’t know what he wants Peeta to say to her. He wants to hear her voice, maybe, to hear her say to stop being ridiculous. He could phone her himself, but he won’t. They only fight and pretend to dislike each other, they don’t do phone calls. They don’t do comfort. Not in that way. She’s not that kind of friend. “Nothing. Make sure she’s alright.”

He knows her. She couldn’t have taken the news better than he did. She loves them all in her Capitol way. The idea of the kids going back together in the arena will wound her. He wishes he could have prevented that.

“I will.” the boys swears and he’s out.

By the time Katniss finally shows her face, Haymitch is drunk as a skunk and he’s trying very hard not to be jealous that they’re so desperate to sacrifice themselves for the other. Nobody cares if he lives or dies. Nobody would ever volunteer to take his place because they love him. Nobody would do anything so rash for him.

Chapter Text

Part 2: Reaping Day

On Reaping Day, it’s too hot and he can’t breathe properly in his suit. They’re waiting for the get go in Katniss’ house, surrounded by Peacekeepers who act as if they’re waiting for them to try to escape. Effie is pretending very hard that nothing’s wrong and she’s all smiles and jokes. From the chair where he’s sitting and actively reminding himself that he shouldn’t be anxious because he’s not going back to the arena if he doesn’t want to, Haymitch watches her hovering like a mother hen over Katniss and Peeta who are huddled together on the couch. No need to fret. Either his name will be drawn and Peeta will volunteer or Peeta’s will come out and… and he will have to choose. But he’s not thinking about that yet because he hasn’t decided which oath he is going to keep.

Effie looks particularly stunning, today. She’s wearing a red dress and he does love her in red, it looks gorgeous on her. New wig, too, he notes, the color of metallic gold. The big tangle of hair goes up and down as she nods in answer to a question from Katniss. He must have been staring at her too long because she turns her head and smiles at him. His smirk isn’t as genuine as it would be under normal circumstances. Usually, this is the moment when he would make an inappropriate comment that would warrant a scold and a scoff but none comes to mind and he stands up, intending to go for a walk. Of course, it probably would have worked better if every Peacekeepers in the room hadn’t pointed their gun at him.

“This really isn’t necessary!” Effie fumes. “You’re treating them like criminals.”

None of the guards – because they are guards, no doubt about that, Snow must be afraid Katniss will pull a stunt of some sort – deign to answer and Haymitch doesn’t even try to hide his amusement.

“I’m just going to the window if it’s not too much of a threat for you to handle.” He probably shouldn’t antagonize them, but, really, it’s too easy and he’s not one to pass on that kind of opportunity, all the more so when it may very well be the last time. Katniss glares at him weakly but she’s just jealous because he’s now free to move around the room while she has to sit still and endure Effie’s attempt at comforting her.

He does go to the window, even if there’s nothing to see outside but more Peacekeepers, it’s almost time for their great entrance, now. He smells her perfume before he senses her approach; it’s heavy and probably expensive but it’s the same she always wears and if it wasn’t for that he would hate it, it’s a flagrance he has come to associate with her though, so he doesn’t.

“Your tie is crooked,” She tss tss with disapproval and goes straight for the thing Peeta has thrown at his head that morning, claiming he didn’t want to be the only one wearing one of those monstrosities. Katniss’ mother has been kind enough to help him but it obviously isn’t up to Effie’s standards. She does have awfully high standards, this woman. In seconds, the knot is loose and she’s doing something very complex with the two ends of the tie that necessitates a lot of big gestures and twisting, but he’s not really paying attention to what she’s doing because she’s so engrossed, she’s biting her lower lip and the sight is riveting for some reason. “There.” He tries to swallow but she’s tightening the knot just under his Adam’s apple and it’s all the more harder to breathe. He feels constricted and not just because of the tie or the guards.

“Trying to strangle me, sweetheart?”

He slips a finger between the tie and his throat but she whacks his hand away and begins to smooth out the creases off his suit.

“Everything will be alright,” she whispers more to herself than to him, it seems. “Everything will be just fine.”

“Of course, it will.” It comes out more bitter than reassuring. “You look gorgeous,” he adds, hoping to soften the sarcasm she didn’t deserve. She has, after all, been careful not to be too cumbersome, since her arrival and to reign in her control freak tendencies.

He can barely see her blush under all that make up but he knows it’s there because she’s fighting a smile.

“Are you drunk?” She seems worried all of a sudden. “It usually takes you two bottles of wine to pay me a compliment. I swear, Haymitch, if you fall off the stage again…”

“I am not !” he protests, ignoring the suspicious stares of Katniss and Peeta. They couldn’t mind their own business, could they? “I couldn’t be even if I wanted to, Peeta got rid of all our booze. A shame too, Katniss was beginning to see things my way.” His explanations seem to delight her and he scowls because he can see it coming.

“You stopped drinking?” She sounds as if she doesn’t entirely believe it and he privately wonders if she has ever see him totally sober.

“I didn’t actually have a choice.” he mumbles.

“That’s wonderful!” She’s so genuinely pleased with him that she is beaming and he can’t do anything but clear his throat and act as if he wasn’t terribly ill at ease. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Haymitch, are you blushing?” Katniss teases, with too much glee given the fact that they’re all about to be figuratively – if not officially – sentenced to death. “Effie, I think you made him blush.”

He catches her eyes and hopes she understands the meaning behind the glare: he’s going to make her pay for this. But somewhere, somehow, Katniss had gotten immune to his threats. She just purses her lips together to prevent the laugh he knows she’s dying to let out. And Peeta is looking like he’s having too much fun too, even if he’s just pretending very hard to be really interested in the carpet. That’s it. Choice made. He’s going to let them fare for themselves out there.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Katniss. I do know a thing or two.” Effie replies and winks at him. She winks at him. A flirting Effie is not something he is prepared to face without a lot of alcohol, it usually results in a headache and a lot of other aches he is not going to think about right now because this suit is tight enough as it is.

“Well, I’m sure I know moves you don’t,” he shots back, because he will be damned if he ends up the butt of the joke, here. “If you want lessons, my bedroom door is always open.”

A little too forward, maybe. Her eyes are bulging and she’s choking on her outraged retort and it’s perfect because he loves when she’s that fluttered.

“This is every bit as bad as walking on your parents doing something… you shouldn’t see.” Peeta says, still looking at the carpet. “Katniss, make them remember we’re right here, would you?”

Katniss snickers which probably was Peeta’s aim all along because he has seen and heard Haymitch be a lot more direct with other women in the village.

“Enough!” Effie manages to shriek.

Haymitch doesn’t even try to stifle his laugher.

It amazes him they’re still able to feel anything but dread given what’s coming, even if the lighter mood fades after only a few moments and the gloomy atmosphere comes back with a vengeance. One of the Peacekeepers signals them that it’s time to go and go they do, escorted by a small platoon of soldiers. Katniss and Peeta go first, hand in hand, he and Effie following a few paces behind. Their fingers brush with each step but neither of them comments on it. He needs this, the human contact. He doesn’t know where his story is going, in the arena or not, but he has a hunch that it is steering towards the finish line.

“They will be alright, won’t they?” Effie asks, low enough not to be heard by their friends or the Peacekeepers. “They’re young.” Too young, like every children they have sent to the Games during all those years. “Even if one of them dies in the games… The other one may win and… they’re young. They think they can’t live without the other but… they have their whole life ahead. They can fall in love again. They can have a good life.”

It’s breaking her heart, he realizes, the idea that Katniss and Peeta are going back into the arena is breaking her heart. He can see it shattering a little more with each step they’re taking. Effie loves like only someone from the Capitol can, he knows that. She loves fully, fearlessly, without restraint or caution… She has an awfully big heart and he can’t stand the idea of seeing it crushed to bits. He just can’t.

That’s that, then.

“Everything will be fine, sweetheart.” He forces himself to smile reassuringly. “What do you know, they might not both go back. Peeta may stay behind. They may have a shot at a life together.”

Katniss is right though, they will do their best to kill her. Even if she wins those Games, she won’t ever be safe, but she might convince Peeta and the others to flee. They might make it to 13.

Effie stops walking and he’s two steps ahead already when he becomes aware of her absence at his side. The Peacekeeper behind them pushes her forward roughly and it makes him so angry he’s in his face before he even realizes it.

“Don’t touch her,” he growls.

The soldier doesn’t condescend to speak to him, he just rises his gun to hit him butt first, and Haymitch is waiting for it. He’s tensed and ready and this guy will mourn the day he’s tried to tackle a former victor.

“Stop!” Effie orders, a hand on Haymitch arm, another on the gun. “Stop! We’re going live in a few minutes, you can’t hurt him or President Snow will be furious.”

“Is there a problem?” Peeta asks, gripping his other arm and pulling him back. “I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding. We’re going to be late. Come on, Haymitch.”

He lets Peeta drag him forwards, hitching to turn back and make this Peacekeeper bleed. The boy must sense it because he doesn’t relinquish his clutch on his arm. He will be dead before he lets Snow’s men hurt people he cares about. He has been through this once, he won’t do it again. He won’t lose anyone else, he won’t be able to bear it. He won’t be able to bear and watch while his friends are slaughtered in the arena and he won’t be able to bear it if they try to execute those he has outside like they did last time.

“You’re alright, Effie?” He hears Katniss asks behind them.

Her answer his too low for him to hear but it doesn’t matter because they’re at the square and it’s swarming with more Peacekeepers. They’re holding people at gun points.

He and Peeta slow down long enough for Peeta to squeeze Katniss’ hand one last time. Haymitch finds Prim’s eyes in the crowd and smirks; the kid smiles back, sad but determined not to show it. He knows why Katniss loves her so much, she really is a good kid.

“Everything will be fine. I promise.” Effie whispers, as she moves past him on her way to the stage. He feels the ghost of a hand on his shoulder and then he’s hoarded to the left with Peeta while Katniss is escorted to the right.

Katniss is staring at him and he nods back curtly. It’s seem to be enough for her. He hopes it’s enough for him.

°¤°¤°¤°

Effie reels out the traditional recap of the origin of the Hunger Games and the nature of this year Quarter Quell as slowly as she can to delay the actual reaping as long as possible. But at some point, she has to wish them all good odds and put her hand in the girls’ reaping ball. She has to claw around because the single piece of paper is evading her fingers and she wants to cry. All she wants is to curl up somewhere safe and have a good cry.

She catches Katniss’ eyes before announcing her name out loud without any of the enthusiasm she usually manages to feign. She hopes the girl knows how sorry she is. She can’t help but be proud as Katniss takes a step forward and stands, chin insolently up, in front of the utterly silent square. There’s tears on some people faces but none of them make a single noise, none of them move, none of them so much as cough. Effie doesn’t think it has anything to do with the guns pointed at them. It’s their way of fighting back. They can’t do anything else but act dignified and claim their defiance in silence… It’s beautiful in a way only something so dangerous may be and it only makes Effie want to cry more because it’s hopeless.

But hope is a fleeting thing and as she watches Katniss staring at the crowd, her eyes stopping on familiar faces, her mouth pursed in a hard line, her stance radiating assurance and anger, Effie wonders if the Capitol knows what they have just done… Because, it’s not a former victor turned tribute she sees when she looks at Katniss. Far from the image of girlish innocence she has in the Capitol, Katniss looks like a leader.

Someone signals her she’s taking too long and she snatches her eyes off Katniss to glare at the boys’ reaping ball. She doesn’t think she can do it but she has to, so she puts her hand in the plastic sphere and rummages through the two papers. Her hand finally closes on one of them and she could swear her heart is going to beat right out of her chest as she unfolds it. The camera’s focusing on Haymitch and Peeta, she knows, so she carefully tucks the paper in her palm, just in case…

She takes a deep breath before finally letting her eyes fall on the piece of paper… And she’s sure she’s going to throw up. She doesn’t dare turn her head towards the boys, she doesn’t dare glance at Katniss… She crumples the paper in her fist and she hopes she can be forgiven.

“Peeta Mellark,”

Chapter Text

“Peeta Mellark,”

There seems to be a collective sigh of relief on the stage. Katniss actually staggers a little when Peeta moves to join them but then…

Then Haymitch’s hand plummets on Peeta’s shoulder and he pulls the boy back. Effie wants to scream but she doesn’t seem to have a breath left in her body.

“I volunteer as tribute.” He says sardonically, with a wink to Katniss.

“No!” Peeta rages “No, you can’t! You promised! You…”

But he can’t say any more because Peacekeepers sweep down on them and Haymitch and Katniss are dragged into the Justice Building.

“Katniss!” Peeta calls desperately “Katniss!”

Peacekeepers take hold of him, Effie and he are ushered away, in a car that, she hopes, will take them to the train station. Once he’s sitting in the car, Peeta curls up and Effie would love to help but she doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t even know what she feels. She’s in shock, she thinks. Her hands are shaking, she feels cold all over but she can’t breathe properly and she has to fight the urge to take off her wig and rip it apart, propriety be damned.

At the train station, there’s neither crowd nor cameras, just more Peacekeepers. She stumbles behind Peeta but he doesn’t seem to be aware of the frantic state she’s in. He’s so furious she can almost feel the waves of it rippling on her skin. When they’re finally on board, the train pulls out of the station immediately and she shadows Peeta in his search for the other two.

They found them in the living-room cart. They both stand up when they see them, Haymitch has barely enough time to prepare himself before Peeta is on him, barreling with his fists and screaming murder. Effie thinks she should say something but all she can do is stand there and watch. Katniss plunges in the middle of the fight, unafraid, and grasps Peeta around the waist to pull him off Haymitch.

“Stop! Peeta, stop!” she begs again and again, but Peeta never stops struggling.

Haymitch steps back and dabbles at his split lip with a handkerchief.

“Never do that again.” He spats at Peeta who sports a bloody nose. “I could kill you.”

“You promised.” Peeta growls back, still trying to escape his girlfriend’s grip. “You gave me your word!”

“He did.” Katniss says softly. “To me.”

Right then, all fight leaves Peeta and he slumps against her.

“No.” he moans. “I was going to save you. You would have been alright.”

“Yes, well…” Katniss replies. “I prefer to do the saving in this relationship.”

Peeta shakes his head listlessly but he lets her drag him in the direction of their room. He stops at the door, though, his back to Haymitch. “You’re not forgiven.”

Haymitch scoffs but as soon as they’re gone, he collapses on the couch and puts his head in his hands.

“Go away.” he snaps.

Effie is faintly aware he’s talking to her, however she doesn’t think she could go anywhere even if she wanted to. Her hand feels around for a chair, a table, or anything really that could help her stand upright. Her knees are shaking and she’s sure she will fall in a couple of minutes.

“I don’t understand…”

Her whisper is barely loud enough to reach Haymitch but it’s enough for him to lift his head and glare at her.

“It means I would like to do my meltdown in private, so, could you, please, get the fuck out?” he shouts.

“But I don’t understand…” she repeats and she feels them, now, the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Why would you do that? Why…”

“Effie?” There’s no trace of anger in his voice anymore, only worry. She wants to point out he never calls her Effie but she can’t because her throat is clenched shut and she really can’t breathe anymore. “Sweetheart?” He’s in front of her now which is a good thing because she can feel herself falling. He catches her and helps her to the couch but it doesn’t make the pain go away. It’s there inside her chest, it’s ugly and insidious and agonizing, she wants to cry out but she can’t and she understands Peeta, she understands him so well she’s furious with Katniss and Haymitch for making deals behind their backs. She wants to lash out, she can only sob.

“I don’t understand,” she says again, as if it could change the course of events.

He sits next to her, closer than he should but she isn’t about to comment on it, they’re past that. She searches his eyes, looking for an explanation, a reason, but she finds nothing except concern and regrets.

“I told Katniss I would save Peeta this time, and I told Peeta I would save Katniss.” he says lightly. “See, this way, I can save them both.”

She sees right past the playful tone. She sees the terror he’s feeling deep inside, the dread and the reluctance. She’s heard him cry out enough time in his sleep, from several rooms down the hall, to know the arena is his worst nightmare.

“You’re going to die.” She wipes away the tears with her sleeve and the fabric comes away full of make-up that will be hell to clean off but she doesn’t even care. She can’t seem to stop crying and it hurts so much inside anyway she’s not sure she wants to. What has she done? What has she done? “You’re going to die.”

“That’s how the game is played, sweetheart,” She would like to strangle him with her bare hands for joking about something like that if the idea of him dead somewhere wasn’t so… “The kids will be fine, don’t worry about them.”

“About them?” Of course she worries about the children, of course, but… “Why did you have to go and do something so stupid, Haymitch! Volunteer. You volunteered for the love of…” The guilt is heavy on her chest, it constricts her throat and she can’t finish her sentence, she can’t even look him in the eye. She puts her hand on her face and tries to find a way out of this mess, all the while knowing there is none. Once you’ve volunteered, you’re in it for the long ride, that’s the rule.

“It’s fate, really,” he hesitates and puts a hand on her thigh. Any other time, she would slap it away but not now. Not now…

“You don’t believe in fate,” she reminds him weakly.

“Right,” he snorts. “You know me too well.”

He snatches away the hand that’s on her face and grips softly her chin to force her to look at him.

“What’s this really about, then?” he asks her. “I thought you would be glad to see one of them out of it. Peeta’s safe.”

“But I don’t care about Peeta.” she says and while it’s not totally true, it’s not really a lie either. “I wanted…”

The sob nearly breaks her in two but she sees he’s taken aback by her answer. His face softens though and he forces a smile on his mouth even if it must hurt like hell with his split lip.

“Yeah, well… Maybe we should start believing in fate, sweetheart,” he jokes, taking hold of the hand that is still fisted around the cursed piece of paper. She has never let it fall even in the confusion. “You’ve drawn out Peeta’s name, after all. If you had drawn out mine…”

She can’t look at him. She can’t do anything but shut her eyes tight and hope this is all a bad dream. It couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t…

“Effie.” He’s serious now and worried again, she can tell. The fondness in his voice is worse than anything else, really.

How much will he hate her?

“I was saving you,” she breathes out.

His fingers are stroking her fist and she forces it to relax enough for him to take her hand. He must feel the piece of paper because she can hear the frown in his voice, the suspicion.

“What are you on about, now?”

“I thought I was saving you,” she pleads but she doesn’t try to stop him when he takes the paper. He’s going to hate her. He’s going to hate her so much. “I’m sorry.”

He unfolds the paper and stares at the name written there. She can see the moment when it registers that it isn’t Peeta’s name but his own. He doesn’t look at her for the longest time and then when he does, his eyes are shining a little and she turns away because she doesn’t want to see the resentment, the hatred in his eyes. She doesn’t try to control the sobs, the pain is no more than she deserves. Not only did she try to send their friend – a seventeen years old boy, at that – to die but she caused him to have to volunteer and go to his death instead. She absolutely loathes herself.

His hands come to rest lightly on her waist and she’s sure he’s going to kill her but she doesn’t try to resist because, really, she would welcome it. What kind of person is she? She hunches herself over, her frame wrecked by the sobs that won’t stop.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she says again and again, waiting for the blows to fall or, at the very least, for the names he has every right to call her.

“It’s okay,” he says instead, and she finds herself drawn into an embrace so gentle it only makes her cry harder. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you didn’t know.”

She clutches at him and holds for dear life, afraid he’s going to change his mind and push her away in the next minute, but he just holds her tighter and presses a kiss against the side of her throat. She leans her head in the crook of his neck and she’s so terrified she’s shaking again. She’s not scared of him. She’s scared of what she did for him. She’s scared of what she will do without him. And she can’t bear the thought, she can’t.

“Did the cameras see the name on the paper?” he asks, after a while, after she has stopped crying. He’s cradling her against him like she’s something precious and she doesn’t want this moment to end, ever. She wishes the train would never arrive in the Capitol. She wishes they could stay like that, in this embrace, for the rest of their life.

“No.” she answers. “I kept it in my hand.”

“Good.” He has put his head against hers and she feels his Adam’s apple go up and down as he swallows. “You were reckless, there, sweetheart. Do you have any idea what they would have done to you if they’d found out?”

She closes her eyes and puts her hand in the middle of his chest, just to feel his heartbeat. It beats strong under her palm and she feels just a little bit better.

“It couldn’t have been worse than what they’re going to do to you,” she shots back, and she thinks it too.

“You can’t take that kind of risks. Not for me, not for anyone, get it?” he insists. “I want you safe.”

“Nowhere is safe anymore.”

She doesn’t know why she said that. Because of the rumors maybe. Because she has seen, first hand, that all wasn’t well in the districts. There’s a tide coming, she can feel it, but it won’t come fast enough to save Haymitch and Katniss.

“All the more reason not to go and put yourself in danger, then.” He scolds her like she’s a schoolgirl and it infuriates her but she’s too comfortable to move. It’s not entirely true that there isn’t any safe haven anymore, she’s safe enough in Haymitch’s arms.

“Like you did?” Sarcasm isn’t her weapon of choice but she isn’t above using it on him. “Like volunteering to take Peeta’s place?”

“It wasn’t really Peeta’s place anyway, now, was it?” he snaps.

It feels like a slap. She suddenly pushes back and she would have flown the room if he hadn’t gripped her wrist and forced her to sit back down.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, before she can say anything. “What you did… Nobody ever did something like that for me. It was reckless and all kinds of stupid and I really think those wigs of yours must have melted your brain. I really shouldn’t be as pleased as I am because it doesn’t change the fact that I’m more likely going to die in a few days and now I have to worry about the foolish antics you will get up to when I’m gone.”

She’s not a shy person but she was always impressed by Haymitch, so, when she brushes the back of her hand against his cheek, she’s just a little bit nervous because she’s not sure she would react well to rejection. But all he does is close his eyes and let out a sigh.

“For someone so obsessed with schedules, you have a bloody sense of timing, you know,” he says, but she ignores him.

“I wish I could have done more.” she confesses. “I wish I could have…” volunteered. But it’s stupid. It’s the stupidest thing she has ever thought. She would die of fright long before she reaches the arena. She’s not Katniss. She’s not brave.

“You tried.” He smiles and kisses the back of her hand. “It’s more than anyone has ever done for me.”

The train rushes into a tunnel just then and as the lights turn on, she realizes it’s later than she thought. The dinner will be ready soon and she should make sure Katniss and Peeta are alright. There are a lot of things to take care of. She stands up and mechanically smoothes her dress.

“I should go and change for dinner.” she says. “You should too. Your tie is all crooked again.”

He lifts an eyebrow and she blushes a little because it’s probably her fault if the knot is all twisted.

“Shame.” he smirks, slumping back on the couch. His eyes trails every curves of her body and she’s sure she’s crimson now. “I love you in red.”

“I know.”

Despite the fact that she still feels as if she has just been on an emotional rollercoaster, she can’t help but feel a little smug when she sees the flash of surprise on his face.

Chapter Text

Haymitch half sits up, a hand around the handle of his knife, ready to kill whoever wants him dead, before he collapses again on his stomach when he realizes he’s still aboard the train. He has gone straight to his room after dinner but Peeta, damn him, had it cleaned out of all sorts of liquors and there has been nothing to do but lie down and try to get some sleep. Easier said than done, though. He has drifted off now and then but it’s hard enough to sleep at home, where he’s relatively safe, it’s near to impossible to do so on the train. And Katniss’ recurring piercing screams as she wakes up from another nightmare make it all the more difficult.

Dinner had been an awkward affair. Peeta had refused to speak to him, Katniss had still been upset for being unable to say her goodbyes to her family and Effie had spent her time glancing guiltily from him to Peeta. He had still been too stunned by the reaping and Effie’s odd confession to do much more than munching his meat and reflecting on how his life could have taken such a drastic turn. He means what he’s told her, nobody had ever done something that foolish for him. He doesn’t know how that makes him feel. He does know he would have done something equally reckless to save her, it seems stupid not to acknowledge that now, when they were so close to the ending. It had helped him to get a grip on himself. If Effie hadn’t been so very obviously on the verge of fainting earlier, if she hadn’t collapsed against him like she did… He would have gone nuts. His hands are still shaking, even know, and that has nothing to do with his constant thirst for alcohol. It’s fear, he knows, pure and untamable terror. He’s going back. He’s going back and if he thinks about it, he will go mad. So, all things considered, it was probably a good thing that Effie had chosen that moment to turn his world upside down.

Now, all he had to do was find a way to get Katniss to win the games and try to secure a safe pass for Effie after all hell breaks loose. Because, he’s sure it will break loose eventually. The first thing he has to do when they finally get to the Capitol is find Plutarch and see if they’ve got something planned to help them out of this hell. He doesn’t think they do and he doesn’t think they’re going to tell him anything. All his contacts with the rebellion have been abruptly severed after the Quarter Quell announcement. They’d put him on the sidelines.

He’s just beginning to doze off again when another scream makes him reach for his knife instinctively. He forces himself to relax, drop the weapon, and go back to this passable imitation of sleep he’s doing, all the while cursing Katniss for not being able to keep it to herself. He buries his face in the pillow. He’s wondering if it’s possible for a man to suffocate himself with a pillowcase full of feathers when someone knocks on his door. It’s strange enough to make him raise his head again.

“Come in” he barks, after another series of knocks.

Under the pillow, his hand is on the knife, just in case. He doesn’t think agents of the Capitol would politely knock on his door before trying to kill him but you never know these days.

The figure that slips through the gap of the door is so small that he thinks it’s Katniss at first – which would be weird because Katniss is more likely to run to Peeta than to him – but when she steps a little closer, he can see her properly in the night-lights he always leaves on because the dark makes him nervous. She’s wearing a nightgown under a satin dressing gown that shimmers in the soft lights. Her hair are loose, her real hair, and he wouldn’t have peg her for a blond but there she is, dark blond curls barely reaching her shoulders.

He moistens his lips, aware that it’s probably gross, but it’s automatic really. For an heartbeat, he thinks that she’s actually making a pass at him, that she wants to make the most of the time they have left because she knows there won’t be an after the arena, but then, he stops staring at her body to look at her face and he’s glad he’s still on his stomach because this has nothing to do with lust. She isn’t wearing any make-up which isn’t surprising given her state of undress, she seems oddly frail without any of it, younger too. Despite the fact that she’s totally decent – even if the gown is a little shorter than what she usually wears – she looks naked to him without her wig and her make-up.

“I had a nightmare” she says, so softly he’s not sure he heard her right.

She’s worrying her hands and he would like nothing more than to reach out to her, but, really, that’s not his scene. He’s not good at that kind of thing. He rests his head on his pillow, once again, and pretends he doesn’t see the tears in her eyes.

“And you want a membership card? You have to go to Katniss for that,” he mumbles, his voice’s rough from disuse and… other things. “She’s the club’s administrator.”

“You were dying” She seems out of breath as if she has just run for miles. “I was in my flat and I was watching the Games and you were dying and I… I couldn’t do anything.”

She’s shaking but he can’t tell if it’s from cold or from fear.

This is wrong on so many levels… With a sigh, he lifts up the covers in invitation.  

“This isn’t proper” she states.

He’s so not in the mood for one of the lectures she keeps giving Katniss and Peeta.

“Well, I don’t think it is really proper for an escort to run into a tribute’s room in the middle of the night either.” His arm is getting tired and he would like her to make a choice before dawn. “I will be a gentleman, I promise.”

She glares at him and eyes the bed dubiously.

“Do you have something on under that sheet?” she asks and apparently she can’t receive a compliment without turning this lovely shade of red but she can ask that kind of question without even batting an eyelash. He rolls his eyes but lowers the cover a little more, just so she can see that even if he’s bare chest, he does indeed wear pants. “Oh.”

“Was that disappointment I heard?” he jokes when she finally climbs in bed with him.

He’s hoping for a blush or an outraged shriek but all she does is pull back the covers on them both.

“Perhaps.”

He can hear the smile in her voice and it doesn’t help him at all think of other things than the fact that there is a woman in his bed and that he has been celibate a little too long for his liking. He expected cuddling – which he is not entirely fond of – but he’s surprised to be manhandled from his stomach to his side. In no time, she’s snuggled up against him, her back pressed to his chest and his arm around her waist – over the cover because he doesn’t trust himself – and her head on his other arm which is going to go numb in a matter of minutes but he’s not complaining. And if she realizes something’s a little too pleased to see her, she’s kind enough not to mention it.

“It was a nightmare,” he says, even if they both know it’s a lie. “Not some kind of prophetic dream.”

Up close, he can see her hair’s not really blond, more like a rich honey.

“Didn’t you say we should start believing in fate?” Her retort makes him smile.

“I say a lot of crap.”

“That you do.”

He snorts and burrows his nose in her hair just because he can. It smells like flowers – deeply exotic flowers, of course, not the kind you would find in the meadow, at home, but it suits her better than her expensive perfume – and it’s really soft against his cheek. He muses for some time about what it would be like to wake up his face buried in her hair and then he begins to panic because her breathing has even out. He can’t let her fall asleep in his bed. It’s too dangerous. What if he finally goes to sleep and wakes up to find out he has killed her in a nightmare induced fit of madness?

“Haymitch?”

He’s so relived she’s not asleep – and not about to be murdered by his subconscious – that he holds her a little tighter. He could get used to that, holding her…

“I want you to promise me something.”

Of course she does. Women are always trying to extract some kind of promises out of him.

“There’s a reason I always tell my one-night-stands I’m secretly married.” he deadpans “I don’t want that kind of noose around my neck, so please don’t ask because I’m not sure I can say no to you.”

She’s silent for several seconds. He can’t tell if she’s amused or pissed. “I’m glad I’m not just one of your one-night-stands, I’m less glad to learn there are one-night-stands.”

“I’m a crown victor, sweetheart, it kind of goes with the job. ” He tries not to sound too bitter but it does anyway.

“Do you call them sweetheart, too?” she snaps.

He’s torn, for several seconds, between joking the topic away and telling the truth. And then, he thinks, what the hell, after all? She cares about him enough to risk her life to keep him out of the arena, he sincerely doubts she’s going to run away on him now.

“I call them whatever they want me too,” he says “and afterwards, I take the money or whatever I’m supposed to get, smile and look grateful beyond measure.”

She tenses in his arms, he regrets ever saying anything, maybe it’s too much. He doesn’t know exactly how aware she is of the Capitol’s power on the victors. Does she know that the arena is just the beginning? He was lucky enough, on that account. The Capitol had understood soon enough that he wouldn’t be their ideal playboy, they got Finnick for that, now, he supposes. But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to pay in flesh, sometimes, when sponsors are old cows that fancy themselves beautiful but that nobody would touch with half-foot pole. It could be worse, though. They have nothing to threaten him with, they have killed the only people he has ever cared about and he’s notorious for not caring about much else except his liquor.

“If it wasn’t so unladylike, I think I would like to borrow that knife of yours and hunt down everyone who has ever hurt you.” He wasn’t expecting a judgmental comment but her cold determination is worse, somehow, than any cutting words she could have chosen. Her voice is bursting with hatred and she isn’t cut out for hatred. Effie is made of joy, colors and laughter. That’s what he loves about her, you couldn’t look at her and not fall in love with her, it wasn’t possible. She was too bright, too lively, too… She was everything he wasn’t anymore, everything he would never be again.

“No, you really wouldn’t.” he refutes. “Blood is awfully hard to clean off clothes.”

He kisses the pale skin of her shoulder, just at the edge between her neck and the collar of her gown, and she melts against him. The arm under her head has gone numb but he doesn’t want to move, he doesn’t want to ever move again.

“You changed the subject” Her hand’s moving up and down his forearm slowly, her nails barely scraping the skin but it was enough to be distracting. He was sure he was meant to be distracted. “I want your word.”

“Everybody wants my word, these days.” His sigh blows some of her hair but she doesn’t seem to mind. “What can I do for you?”

“I want you to promise me to fight. I don’t want to you to sacrifice yourself for…” she hesitates, then, and she wonders if she will have the gut to say her name... “For anyone.”

“Don’t worry,” he scoffs “I’m not that noble.”

“You did it for Peeta.” she points out. “And I know you care about Katniss.”

“You care about them too,” he says. “And I think you may not see the real picture, here. In the arena, I will be the liability for Katniss not the other way around. I’m old, I’m alcoholic and I couldn’t hit a target if it hit me in the face. I may be able to make it out of a hand to hand combat but that’s not sure.”

“Don’t talk like that.” she begs. “Don’t talk as if you were going to die.”

He rolls on his back with a sigh and she turns around to face him. On the plus side, his arm is free to regain feeling, on the bad side, she’s not snuggled against him anymore. He studies her in the semi-darkness. He wants to tell her he is going to die, there’s no if in there, but he doesn’t know how to do that without breaking her heart.

“Everything’s my fault, isn’t it?” she asks, softly. “If I hadn’t cheated, Peeta would have volunteered and you would be fine.”

“If you hadn’t cheated, you wouldn’t be in my bed and I think I like it better that way.” He wraps a strand of her hair around his finger, watching the ways it curls on itself and bounces back when he lets go. “I thought they would be short because of the wigs.”

“There’s a net you…” Suddenly she stops and her eyes widens and she steals the pillow to cover her head. “Don’t look at me! I’m hideous.”

He nearly roars with laughter and struggles to make her drop the pillow.

“Stop that!” she shrieks “Stop laughing at me!”

“Stop being stupid, then” he jokes once he’s finally managed to snatch the pillow away. “You couldn’t be hideous if you tried.”

“But I don’t have any make-up on.” she pouts “And my hair…”

“I love it.” he swears. “I mean it. You’re beautiful, you know that. Everybody knows that.”

She doesn’t really seem convinced but she doesn’t try to smoother herself with the pillow so he counts that as a victory. And she’s blushing again. He finds it a little odd that she can shot back innuendo for innuendo with a blank face but can’t accept a compliment without her cheeks turning red.

“I am sorry, you know.” She sits up and the covers pool in her lap. “I really am.”

“You didn’t know.” He wishes she would stop coming back to that because he can’t help but wonder what would have happen if she had called out his name. Peeta would have volunteered and then… “What’s done is done, no point thinking about it.”

“I knew I would be sending Peeta back.” Her head is lowered and he can’t see her face properly but he knows there is guilt there. “I knew it would be awful and I would never be able to look in the mirror again but I couldn’t… I made my choice when they announced what the Quarter Quell would be, you know. I made my choice. I was so foolish. I didn’t think it through. I’ve never even thought that one of you would volunteer for the other. I just wanted to save you… I was going to save you, no matter what, and then…”

He cups her cheek with his shaking hand and when she finally meets his eyes, he feels something warm and soft ripping open in his chest.

“And then?”

Her hand wraps around his wrist as if she’s afraid he will pull it back if he doesn’t like what she says. He won’t, though.

“And then you would love me.”

It’s barely a whisper.

“Already did, sweetheart.”

Her lips part from shock but he doesn’t give her time to recover. He’s already sitting up, the hand that was on her face slides to the back of her neck and he kisses her. Hard. She gives as good as she gets, though, and she leans into the kiss, a hand on his chest, the other clutching his arm.

“Not really proper that, is it?” he smirks, between two kisses.

“Oh, shut up!” she snaps and kisses him some more.

Soon, there’s a lot less clothes and he feels a little guilty because she’s not the kind of woman you bed for a few nights – and he has only a handful of those left – she’s the kind of woman you wed. However, she doesn’t ask for that kind of promises but she does threaten to castrate him when he tries to slow down, to stop maybe, so he gives up to temptation and need and want.

Later, when she’s sprawled on his chest, he absent-mindedly draws patterns on her lower back and fights the drowsiness. It’s not safe for her to stay there if he falls asleep, it’s not safe he reminds himself, but he can’t help drifting off a little.

“You will fight, Haymitch.” she commands, out of the blue, and her arms tighten around him. “You will fight to come back to me.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the smell of flowers is almost overwhelming.

“I’m not going down without a fight,” he swears.

“You’re not going down, at all” she refutes.

He doesn’t know how to make her understand, he doesn’t know how to explain… Even if the other victors weren’t his friends…

“I have absolutely no chance in hell to win this thing, Effie.” Being blunt may be the way, he thinks. Katniss does, but he doesn’t say that because that’s not what she wants to hear and now he’s a little afraid of the lengths she’s capable of going to. Peeta will only have Katniss in mind during the games, what if she tries to highjack the sponsors he finds for the girl?

“Let’s run, then.”

He wants to laugh but he also wants to cry a little and that’s a terrible thought because he can’t remember the last time he’s shed a tear. “Run? I don’t think wigs and high heels are very practical when you’re on the run, sweetheart.”

“Let me worry about my outfits.” she snaps “Do you think you would have a better chance if we try to run?”

All things considered? Probably. If they had taken off when Katniss had offered, they may have survived. But now?

“Not anymore” he says. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“You’re giving up.” she accuses him. “You can’t give up.”

“I’m not giving up but we should be realistic, here. The odds aren’t in my favor.” he scorns.

“There must be something we can do” she mumbles against his shoulder.

His only answer is to kiss the top of her head. There’s nothing to do and they both know it. They have mentored and escorted enough tributes to know there isn’t.

She ends up falling asleep on his chest and he tries not to doze off but he knows it’s a losing fight so he throws the knife out of reach, just in case. And then he does drift off. One second he’s playing quietly with Effie’s hair, the next he shots upright when someone barges in his room without knocking first.

“Haymitch, we have a problem. Effie’s missing. They say we’re very late and we’ve searched the whole train but… wow!” Katniss gapes at them, completely stunned.

“Good morning to you too,” he says, smugly. “I found Effie.”

Effie, who is currently trying to no avail to melt into the sheets out of pure embarrassment.

“Katniss, did you wake him?” Peeta shouts before entering his room – still without knocking. “She’s nowhere I… wow!” The boy turns his back on them at Effie’s shriek. “I think I’m traumatized.”

“We’re all traumatized.” Haymitch says, sensibly. “Now, could you both get the fuck out of my room?”

“Wait, you said very late. Exactly how late are we ?” Effie pips from under the covers.

“Not that late.” Peeta grins, and drags Katniss out of the room. “Do… What you want to do. We’ll manage.”

The door slams shut behind him and Haymitch has only time to count to three before he hears them burst out laughing in the corridor.

“What are you doing?” he asks Effie who’s gathering her belongings. “You heard the boy, we’re not that late.”

He pulls her back on the bed, her talk of being on time and responsibilities and work flying right above his head. He kisses that spot just behind her ear and she muffles a frustrated scream in his shoulder because she knows they will be late but she still kisses him back and he’s laughing then because he’s happy, simple as that. Her blond hair makes a kind of halo around her head on the white sheets and he thinks, before she kisses him again, that he would have liked to wake up with her every morning for the rest of his life. Yes… He would have liked that very much.

Chapter Text

Part 3: The Eleventh Hour

The ground floor of the Remake Center is swarming with people. Victors, mentors, stylists… It seems it is the place to be. Haymitch nods at Chaff, Seeder and Cecelia who are waving at him from beside a chariot, he spies Johanna in the distance leaning closer to Mags probably to better hear her…. Everyone is ensconced in some sort of ridiculous outfit, Johanna, particularly, seems to be disguised in some sort of tree…

Haymitch figures he should be glad for Portia. The costumes she and Cinna designed are clever, decent and, above all, not preposterous. Last time, he had been forced to parade in a miner outfit which had been as unimaginative as it could be.

It doesn’t take him long to find Katniss, she’s right beside their chariot, talking to Finnick.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s true.” Finnick is saying when he spies his arrival. “Haymitch! Long time no see, my friend.”

“Not long enough” he answers. Katniss frowns but Finnick takes it for what it’s worth. They only see each others during the Games after all.

“Yes, I admit, had it been up to me, I would have waited longer.” Finnick says, adjusting the golden net that doesn’t do a good job at hiding anything. “I better go find Mags. Sorry, you had to cancel the wedding, Katniss, I know how devastating that must be for you.”

Haymitch watches him stroll away as if the world was his for the taking and can’t help but smile. Finnick’s not as close a friend as Chaff, but he likes him well enough.

“He’s trouble.” Katniss comments.  

“Don’t you forget it,” he says.

They wait mostly in silence for the music to begin and the circus to start. Katniss is looking around and so obviously judging everyone that it makes his skin crawl but she doesn’t venture to say anything out loud and he’s glad for it. He knows what they all look like… The former victors… The pride of the Districts… They all look like a bunch of freaks. There are the ones who are so drugged they can barely move without help, the ones who are too set in their anger to do anything but glare at everyone who passes by and the ones who hide it all under a mask of frivolity and indifference. Katniss and Peeta, all things considered, don’t have it so bad. Haymitch, on the other hand, would kill for a drink.

“We should go.” Katniss tells him, at last. His hands are shaking so much she has to help him climb aboard the chariot. “Have you seen the suit turned on? It’s fabulous.”

“I don’t do small talk,” he snaps. “I’m not your baker boy.”

“I can see what Effie sees in you,” she scorns but she must understand it’s not her he’s angry at, because she switches her suit on and urges him to do the same. “No waving, no smiling, nothing.”

He doesn’t actually need her instructions, he’s the one who gave them to Cinna in the first place, but it gives her something to do and he finds it too hard to breathe, suddenly, to do anything else than comply. He’s having flashbacks of a time long gone and he’s not sure, when the chariot finally rolls on, if it’s Katniss or Maysilee standing beside him. The crowd erupts in cheers on their passing and Haymitch knows it’s the girl on fire they are really screaming for, but when he catches sight of them on one of the giant screens, he can’t help but be impressed by how they look. The effect would probably have been more striking if Peeta had stood in his place, but Katniss looks dark and powerful. She’s staring ahead, chin up, so distant from what’s happening around her… One half of the tragic couple, one half of the star-crossed lovers… She looks unforgiving and Haymitch looks dangerous. They look as if they have just been ripped from the core of a volcano.

Something’s missing, however. They stand side by side but they aren’t a team, yet, in the mind of the crowd. They’re the victor and the former mentor, not... Friends. They need to be considered friends. He’s not the only victor who volunteered to take the place of a tributes they had mentored, but all those ones are waving and playing it like they were still children confronted to the Capitol for the first time.

Katniss must have caught sight of one of the screens because, just as they’re about to loop around the City Circle, she grabs his shaking hand in hers. The audience seems to go crazy but neither Haymitch nor Katniss give up on their detached performance. He thinks that he may have gained some points by sacrificing himself to save one part of the Capitol’s favorite couple. He will have to play that angle during the interview.

Most of the other tributes are staring at them, now, their ever-changing costumes are the highlight of the evening. Haymitch could swear President Snow’s eyes are riveted on Katniss as they make their final turn, which doesn’t bode well for them. The first thing on his to-do list is find out what’s happening out there. Plutarch won’t receive him for obvious reasons, but Chaff or Finnick might know something.

Chaff jumps off his chariot just as soon as the Training Center doors close behind them and Haymitch mimics him with definitely less agility. Seeder is quicker than them both though and hugs him before he has time to take a step closer.

“You silly, silly man,” she whispers in his ear. “What have you done, now?”

This particular question doesn’t need answering and she lets him go to hug Katniss who has apparently found Peeta, Cinna and Portia. No Effie, he can’t help but notice, with a pinch of disappointment. Later. She must already be up in the penthouse.

“That was a stupid move you did there, buddy.” Chaff’s greeting is mixed with sorrow. “You’re too old for that kind of crap.”

“You’re too old for that kind of crap,” he counters. “Me, I’m just dying for a fight.”

Chaff snorts derisively, they had enough late chats around a bottle or ten to know that’s as far from the truth as it can be. He lets the old bugger hug him anyway.

“Have you heard anything?” Chaff asks and Haymitch feels his last hope fly far away.

“I think we’re on our own,” he whispers back.

When Chaff steps back he nods once and then smiles as if nothing happened. He introduces himself to Katniss with a resonating kiss on the mouth that leaves her spluttering and they both laugh. Or pretend to laugh. He doesn’t know anymore. He’s oddly detached when Johanna comes to play her little game, stripping right in front of them to provoke Katniss. The tributes are hoarded to the elevators by attendants who look really ill-at-ease amongst the jovial interactions between the victors. Peeta has disappeared somewhere and Katniss is openly flaunting Johanna which is not a good idea because they need allies and Johanna is one of the best they could get, but he’s too desperately in need of a drink to do much about that now. He barely notices when Johanna steps off the elevator. Chaff pats his shoulder sadly before exiting with Seeder and then there’s only Katniss and him and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You’re okay?”

He rubs his face but the weariness doesn’t go away. “I need a drink,” he says, frankly. “Scratch that, I need a bottle.”

“You’re not drinking.” Her face is set and he knows that, somehow, he won’t find a single drop of alcohol in their apartment. Effie or Peeta must have gotten there first.

“You’re not my keeper, girl” he growls. “I did what you asked of me, I’ve fulfilled my purpose. Now, if I want to spent my last days drunk as a monkey, then I bloody will!”

“You can’t think like that.” she scolds him. “You may have a chance. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

Yes, they are. Until one of them becomes too much of a threat to the other, then, all bets are off. And she knows that as well as he does. They’re too much the same for it to be otherwise.

The elevator chimes before he has a chance to think of a comeback and it’s probably better that way. Peeta and Effie are waiting for them in the corridor and he makes a beeline for Effie.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” he says, taking in the impressive red dress. He likes her real hair better than the golden wig she’s so proudly sporting but he knows how much she loves those stupid outfits so he holds his tongue. Contrary to popular opinion, he can be tactful, all the more so if it may convince her to spent the night with him.

He would love to take her into his arms and kiss her properly but he settles for brushing his hand against hers. Walls have ears, the flat is buzzing with Capitol attendants and he isn’t about to openly expose the true nature of their relationship if he can help it.

“Cinna and Portia did a great job,” Effie’s eyes are twinkling with mirth. “You almost look presentable.”

“I will give you almost…” His sentence trails off when he catches sight of the Avox standing at the dining room entrance. Darius.

“Katniss,” The warning is clear in Peeta’s voice but he shouldn’t have worried, the girl turns around and marches right into her room. The door slams shut.

“What has gotten into her?” Effie asks, clearly taken aback.

Haymitch doesn’t answer. He stares back at Darius, their new Avox and former Peacekeeper, until the man averts his eyes, obviously uncomfortable, and then he storms into his room. The slamming of his door seems to echo Katniss’.

°¤°¤°¤°

Effie doesn’t like conflicts.

Dinner, fortunately, is less tensed than the previous day but it’s still not as comfortable as she would like. Haymitch, no matter how long she knocked on his door and begged for an explanation, had refused to say what the trouble was. He had reemerged from his room a little while later, apparently composed, but she only has to look at him now to know it’s all an act. Katniss, when Effie had finally succeeded in coaxing her out of her room, had proved to be as little help as Peeta. The boy has advised her not to ask.

However, she can’t help but notice, over dinner, that Haymitch, Peeta and Katniss are all sneaking glances at the male Avox serving them. At some point, Katniss even tries to help him clean up a dish of peas she has accidentally spilled on the floor. Strange.

Cinna and Portia and Effie are still debating on whose District had the second best costumes – because District 12’s clearly were the crowd favorite and she has to admit, Haymitch looked particularly handsome in it – over dessert when Peeta reminds them that the Opening Ceremony recap will be on soon. As they head to the living room to watch, Effie stays behind long enough to wait for Haymitch who seems even less enthusiastic than Katniss – which, given that the girl is dragging her feet, says a lot.

“Are you alright?” she asks, and he only shrugs impatiently. However, he does put his hand on the small of her back to guide her into the next room and it lingers there for longer than strictly necessary so she assumes she’s not the problem.

He takes the couch with Cinna and Katniss wedges herself between them, leaving her no other choice but to share the loveseat with Portia. Peeta sits himself directly on the floor, at their feet, ignoring the perfectly good chair on the other side of the couch.

There’s not much else to say about the Opening Ceremony that hasn’t been covered during dinner, and few of them venture a comment. Most of the tributes look ridiculous, too old for the outfits their stylists have designed. When the crowd goes wild as District 12’s chariot appears, it’s not that surprising. Compared to the other victors, Katniss looks young and every bit what tributes should be. As to Haymitch… He looks his own age but it’s better than those attempts at making victors look young. He looks adult, solemn and every bit the man he is. Nevertheless, Effie has enough presence of mind to know that nobody was really cheering for Haymitch.

Until they joined hands.

Then the audience seems to go in a real frenzy and it’s not only Katniss’ name they’re chanting anymore but a more general ‘District 12’.

“Nice move.” Peeta comments. “It will be easier to sell.”

“Sell?” Katniss says, just as the camera zooms in on her face. “What do you mean?”

“Haymitch’s fatherly affection for you, of course.” The boy says, very matter of fact. “That’s why he favored you last year and it explains why he volunteered for me. Keeping me out of the arena for your sake and going in to try to protect you, they will love it. Not far from the truth, either, he won’t have any difficulty with that part.”

“You don’t have to act as if he isn’t in the room, Peeta.” Effie snaps at him, feeling more and more frustrated with his attitude. Each time he has lowered himself to speak to Haymitch since that morning, he has acted coldly. “Try to learn some manners.”

“I’m sorry, Effie, I don’t want to hurt you but I don’t see why I would trouble myself with manners when he doesn’t have any.” Peeta says, calmly. “He lied to me.”

“He saved you.” she spats. “And, right now, I’m wondering why he bothered.”

She shouldn’t have said that, especially given what she tried to do. She shouldn’t lash out at Peeta because she is scared and in pain, but the fact remains: Peeta’s uncharacteristic rudeness is an outlet for her stress.  

“It’s not what I wanted.” Peeta retorts and she gets the impression he’s trying really hard not to snap back at her.

“But that’s what you get.” Katniss tells him softly. “Let’s make the most of it.”

Peeta doesn’t seem to be satisfied by her intervention, but it’s easy to see that Katniss is already close to her breaking point, so he doesn’t push.

“So, do we all agree on this?” Cinna awkwardly clears his throat. “Haymitch considers Katniss like his daughter? Portia and I need to know to prepare for the interviews.”

“Whose idea was that?” Haymitch asks and Effie can tell, from his tone, that he’s not entirely pleased.

“Effie’s.” Peeta states. “She was adamant we needed to give you a good back story.”

Haymitch’s eyes are on her face, now, but she refuses to blush. She won’t ask for forgiveness because she tries to help him win this Games. The most the audience loves a tribute, the most likely they are to find wealthy sponsors.

“I’m okay with it.” Katniss says. “Haymitch?”

He only shrugs. “Could be worse.”

Katniss excuses herself not long after that and Peeta follows, of course. Cinna and Portia soon leave too. It’s late enough that most of the staff has gone to bed and when Effie comes back to the living room, after showing the stylists to the elevator, she closes the door. Haymitch is still on the couch, staring at the television on mute. The Opening Ceremony recap is over but there’s a late night talk show where the host is obviously busy commenting on the high points of the ceremony. Not surprisingly, the camera keeps switching back and forth between the host and images of Katniss and Haymitch.  

“I can’t help thinking this is all a nightmare,” he says, out of the blue. “I never thought I would ever be back on one of those chariots.”

“It went very well.” She grabs the remote and turns the television off. “You two were the most popular.” She’s determined to stay positive through this whole ordeal.

“I was terrified” he confesses, reaching out his hand. She takes it and lets him pull her on the couch. She kicks off her shoes, relieved to finally be able to relax. “I need alcohol. Find me some, sweetheart. Please.”

He gives her such puppy eyes that she’s almost tempted to say yes, but she wills herself to be stronger than that. It’s for his well-being after all.

“You don’t need alcohol,” she tells him. “I have something for you.”

“If it’s not booze, you can keep it.” He winces as soon as the words are out and she lifts her eyebrows meaningfully. “I’m sorry,” he reluctantly says, at last. She’s not about to give up on teaching him proper manners.

She hands him the velvety box she had grabbed on her way back to the living-room and folds her legs under her on the couch. She watches as he curiously turns the box in his hands before finally opening it. He doesn’t seem particularly overjoyed by the gold bangle carved with an intricate flames pattern. He takes it out of the box and weights it up in his palm hesitantly.

“Is that your Capitol way of asking me to marry you?” he asks, his voice unsure. “Because I told you already…”

“For a man so afraid of wedding vows, you seem awfully obsessed with marrying me.” She snatches the piece of jewelry from his open hand and clasps it around his wrist, noticing his shaking’s getting worse. “There, not so difficult, was it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Not that I don’t appreciate you covering me in gold, sweetheart, but if this is not some kind of plot to get your lovely hands on my inheritance, what’s this?”  

She draws back her knees against her chest and hugs them. “I have my hair, Katniss has her pin, I am having something made for Peeta, and now you have the bangle.”

Haymitch frowns. “Care to elaborate?”

He’s a lot more aggressive than he was the day before or even that morning, but Effie thinks that the lack of alcohol, given the stressful couple of days, is taking its toll, so she lets it slide.

“I thought it would be nice if each of us had something golden” she explains. “Matching tokens. Just so we all remember we’re a team.”

His shoulders slouch a bit. “Yesterday, you told me I had to think only of myself… We’re a team, now?” he taunts. “You will have to make up your mind at some point, you know.”

She lowers her eyes guiltily. “I talked to Peeta. I wanted to remind him that he’s your mentor too, not just Katniss’. ” That hadn’t been a pleasant conversation and it hadn’t gone very well. Peeta seems to be under the impression Haymitch is only going in the arena to act as Katniss’ personal bodyguard. Effie has several problems with this approach. “He said we can’t know how everything will play out in the end anyway, that it all depends on what happens at the Cornucopia, really, and that he isn’t about to discard you even if you…”

“I’m guessing this little talk of yours ended with less than flattering monikers.” he smirks.

“Yes, well…” She can feel her cheeks turning red. “I may have come back with a few for him as well. He was very rude. Worse than you, if you can believe that.”

“Well, to be honest…” he sighs, letting his head fall on the back of the couch. “I get why he’s angry. If the woman I love was in danger, I wouldn’t like to be hold on the sidelines while someone else does the rescuing.”

Effie studies him for several minutes, cataloging all the changes they made in the Remake Center. They have shaven him clean but his chin is already sporting a five o’clock shadow, his hair, she thinks, are a little shorter but he managed to keep them long enough that it’s barely noticeable. His skin seems smoother, too, so they must have done a skin peeling treatment.

“First, what makes you think that she would like you to risk your life to save her and then why do you men always think we need rescuing?” she says at last, a little petulantly.

“Would you rather I let you fend for yourself while I sit and watch?” he mocks.

“Do you love me?” This is not the kind of question you ought to ask a man you’ve just been intimate with. It usually makes them run faster than you can believe, but they’re out of time and no matter what Haymitch answers it won’t change how she feels.

“I said I did,” he sighs, and closes his eyes. “You know I do.”

“Then, yes.” she says. “I’d rather you just sit and watch, because I don’t want you to get hurt or worse for me. So, there, you know what to do if I’m ever in danger. No rescuing. I’ll manage.”

He gazes at her with a disturbing amount of wonder, a smile playing softly on his lips. “You’re really something, you know that, right?”

“Don’t you forget it.” She warns him. “I heard Johanna Mason was particularly well today.”

“Jealous, sweetheart?” He seems too smug for his own good. “Is that your way of branding me?” He twirls the golden chain around his wrist.

“It’s just a token.” she denies. And, she hopes, a way to discourage strange women from parading naked in front of him.  

Haymitch is sometimes too perceptive though.

“She has nothing on you, Effie.” he tells her and there’s a softness in his eyes that makes her heart beats faster. He tugs a little on her wig then. “Take that off?”

It’s a request she’s happy to oblige because he seems to have developed an obsession for her real hair and she likes the way he pets it reverently. That morning, he said it reminded him of rich honey, she’s not sure about that. Her sister always says her hair is ugly, not really brown and not really blond, whereas hers is a beautiful kind of dark, nearly blue in full sun. But, as her father always says, her sister is the real beauty.

“Only the wig?” she half-jokes, already removing the numerous pins that keep the heavy tangle of hair on her head.

A spark of lust shines in his eyes just then and she grins.

“Naughty, naughty girl” he laughs quietly before sobering up all of a sudden. “We should go to one of our room. I don’t want anyone seeing us together, we have to be careful.”

“Why?” She fails to keep the hurt out of her voice and he frowns, tangling his fingers in the strands of hair she has just released.

“Because if you don’t want me to rush at your rescue, you better not put yourself in danger” he explains quietly. “And it’s dangerous to be too close to me.”

She doesn’t know how to answer that, so she settles for kissing him, hard, and in plain sight. She doesn’t mind the danger if that means she can be with him. He coils a hand around her neck and gently forces her to move back a little.

“The Avox,” he whispers. “He’s a friend of Katniss and me, from home. They’ve taken him a few months ago. I don’t want you to end up like him. Please.”

That actually explains a lot about their strange behavior. And there’s not much she can refuse him when he says please. It doesn’t happen that often, after all.

“I will go to my room, first” she says “And you can follow me.”

He nods, clearly relieved not to have to fight his point. She gathers her shoes and wig and leaves the room, pausing just long enough at the door to see him twirling the golden bangle thoughtfully.

Chapter Text

About half of the former victors have skipped training and Haymitch is slowly regretting his decision of not doing the same. He would have gladly stayed in bed with Effie and call it a day which, of course, didn’t satisfy neither Effie nor Peeta and Katniss. In the end, he figures it’s just as well that he let Katniss drag him down to the training session because if he had to endure Peeta’s attempts at mentoring them, he’s not sure what he would have done. Stab him, maybe.

And, obviously, there is the matter of allies to tackle. Mingle, he has instructed Katniss, find people you may want to ally with. They have to think like careers, if they want a shot at winning this – and careers always hunt in pack. Katniss is doing a very great job at not mingling at all. In the half-hour long conversation he has had with Chaff, Seeder and Cecelia, she hasn’t moved from the knot-tying station. She leaves it to go to another station almost as soon as Finnick tries to talk to her, however. Rolling his eyes because that girl always has to complicate everything, he excuses himself and heads over to Finnick.

He grabs a length of rope but waves away the instructor.

“Good morning.” Finnick greets him with a wolfish smile. “Came to enjoy the view?”

He snatches a curious glance at what has so obviously captivated Finnick and finds Johanna, once again naked as the day she was born, busy oiling her skin for a wrestling session. Instinctively, he twirls the bangle around his wrist but doesn’t avert his eyes straight away.

“Aren’t you spoken for?” he reminds him, twisting the rope in a complex knot that he half remember from a past long gone. The tremor in his hands is bearable today, but he won’t try to throw any knife nor shoot any arrow. “How’s Annie?” He speaks low enough that no one should be able to hear him.

“You know the drill.” Finnick shrugs. “Some days are good. Most are bad. The Quell announcement didn’t help.” He doesn’t allow the weariness to stay long on his face, faking a bright smile. “But, at least, she’s safe for now.”

Haymitch nods and inspects the rope the man is knotting so fast he can barely see his fingers move.

“You’re better at this than I am” he observes.

“I’ve been mending nets since I can remember.” Finnish explains. “You should see Mags’ work. Her nets are masterpieces.”

Mags is standing by the archery station with Seeder.

“How is she holding up?” Mags always seems disturbingly peaceful to him. He had never seen her angry or indulging in drugs or alcohol. She’s an oddity in their bunch of victors.

“Like someone who knows she’s going to die in a few days.” Finnick snaps, in a growl. Haymitch’s eyebrows shot up but Finnick is already raising his hands in apology. “Sorry, sorry. She’s like a mother to me, it’s not actually the easiest of situations.”

“You do realize that confiding that sort of weakness to another tribute is not the cleverest of idea.” Haymitch points out, throwing away the length of rope he has just knotted to grab another.

“Please.” Finnick scorns. “It’s not a secret. Everybody knows it. Everybody in this room knows everything there is to know about everybody else.”

Fair point and sound argument.

They’ve all known each others for years. They have drunk together and shared their misery and bounded through their hatred for the Capitol. Pretending he doesn’t know this people won’t make it easier to kill them.

“She did it for you, then?” he asks. “To save Annie.”

“She did it to spare me the pain of having Annie in there with me.” Finnick sighs. “She wouldn’t have lasted two minutes and, even if I had managed to protect her longer than that… You saw the recap of the reaping, didn’t you? I’m not sure she would have made it to the Capitol.” A shame, really. Annie is the most gentle soul Haymitch knows, but broken. Utterly broken. “So, yes, Mags volunteered to save her, save me, really. She loves me that much. And I wouldn’t advise you to come too close to her, in the arena, because I’m quite gifted with a trident, as you surely remember.”

“To be honest, I can relate” he says and leaves it at that. His eyes seek Katniss in the crowd and find her at the shelter station with Nuts and Volts. He’s ready to bet she will come back to him proudly stating that she wants them for allies.

Finnick seems a bit taken aback but doesn’t comment on it, teaching him how to make a particular kind of snare.

“Have you heard from any of your friends in the Capitol?” Haymitch asks, after a while.

“Some of them called to wish me well. I am really popular, after all. ” Finnick says, with a twinkle in his eyes. “But most of them seem to have vanished into thin air.”

“A shame” Chaff doesn’t know anything, Johanna from what he gathered doesn’t know much either, Finnick was his last hope, but it seems the rebellion well and truly severed all contacts with the victors.

Finnick hums noncommittally and finishes another series of knots.

“We went to the roof this morning” he says. “The wind is blowing from the north. There’s a storm coming.”

North. District 13.

“The sky is blue” he argues.

“We always know when a storm is brewing up in District 4, we learn to recognize the signs when we’re young.” Finnick asserts with a smile. “But don’t worry, by the time it’s here, we will be in the arena.”

He saunters off after that, throwing him the knotted rope over his shoulder. It’s a noose and, for the first time since the reaping, Haymitch feels like he can finally breathe.

By the time he makes his way to the dining area, Brutus and his little group of friends have dragged all the tables in the middle of the room to improvise a big table where everyone can sit. Haymitch finds Katniss at the desserts cart.

“So” he prompts her “Have you made up your mind?”

She had been outright reluctant to the idea of striking an alliance to begin with, even when Peeta had come around to his way of thinking.

“District 3” she says with a defiant stare. “Beetee and Wiress. If we really have to team up with someone, I want them.”

He doesn’t even try to appear surprised.

“Of course you do” he sighs. “Chaff, Finnick and Johanna if she will have us.”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, disbelievingly. “Katniss, we need allies who can have our back. Not a bunch of old people.”

“You’re old” she reminds him.

“Precisely.” he snaps. “We’re going to need fighters in there.”

She rolls her eyes and goes to sit between Mags and Seeder and Haymitch suppresses the urge to slap some sense into her. He grabs a slice of apple pie and takes the chair Chaff kept for him. The conversations are loud and boastful, often punctuated by laughter. The whole thing looks more like a friendly reunion than a dinner between people who are going to slaughter each others in a few days. It makes Haymitch feel sick.

Someone puts a bottle of wine in front of him and, suddenly, he can’t eat another bite. His hands are shaking so badly with the need for a drink that his fork bangs loudly on his plate. A glass. A single glass couldn’t hurt.

Chaff’s stump falls on his wrist just as he’s reaching for the bottle.

“So, how’s the ever lovely Effie Trinket?” Chaff asks, while casually giving the bottle to Brutus who is sitting on his other side.  

Haymitch watches the wine disappear further down the table, glaring back at Katniss when she sees from where it came from. Damn all those meddling people!

“As infuriating as always.” He’s careful to keep his voice flat of any feeling whatsoever. “She’s busy teaching Peeta how to be a proper mentor. Poor boy doesn’t know what hit him, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I don’t know… I wouldn’t turn down some one-on-one time with her, if you know what I mean.” Chaff’s lecherous tone is enough to make him forget the wine and Katniss’ annoying quirks.

“I’m sure I don’t.” he hisses back.

Chaff doesn’t seem to get that he’s not interested in that line of conversation, because he’s roaring with laugher. “Come on, Haymitch! You have to admit she’s hot for a Capitol girl. You lucky bastard have the hottest escort in the Games and you don’t even appreciate it. What do you say, you lot, does District 12 have the hottest escort or what?”

Unfortunately, Effie is right and most of the victor don’t have any sense of propriety at all so the subject of her hotness is discussed and debated at length despite his apparent lack of interest and his desperate attempts at changing the subject. When dinner finally ends, Haymitch is ready to kill someone, Chaff is still throwing comments about Effie that makes his skin crawl, Finnick is glancing at him more and more frequently and Katniss looks absolutely too smug.

“I’m guessing Chaff is out of the table?” she smirks when he passes her on his way back to the training room.

“Go and make friends, find some allies.” he scolds her. She’s still grinning when she strolls to the edible-insects station where Cecelia and Woof are already listening to the lecture the instructor is giving.

He goes over to the hand-to-hand combat station and absently listens to the trainer’s advices. When Chaff volunteers to train with him, Haymitch tells himself that he’s his friend and that they’re used to joke about women like Chaff just did. If he knew about Effie and him, he’s sure he wouldn’t have been so callous. He probably would have – grouchily – forgiven the comments about their escort and the theft of his wine, if Chaff had not made another unfortunate joke about Effie’s legs.

Chaff probably thought they would exchange a few blows and not launch themselves in a proper match because he clearly isn’t expecting the fist Haymitch sends in his face.

“What the…” he starts, but Haymitch doesn’t give him time to finish.

He punches him in the stomach, dodges the ill-aimed kick to his head, and hits him on the back of the neck. Chaff is down in seconds and Haymitch steps back, hands raised, before any member of the staff asks him to.

“Sorry.” he says insincerely. “I don’t know my strength, sometimes.”

He steps over Chaff who’s still trying to find his breath back and leaves this part of the room, judging safer to put some space between them. He finds himself at the fishing station where Katniss and Mags are obviously becoming great friends. Because that’s all he needs, another elderly in his team.

“Make friends, find allies.” Katniss taunts him when she catches sight of him, but she seems concerned rather that irritated. “Are you okay?”

He stretches out his hand a few times and smirks. His knuckles will be bruised, he thinks, but, at least, his hands aren’t shaking anymore.

“I may be old, but I’m not actually helpless, you know.” he grumbles. “One of the many perks of being fond of alcohol? You learn how to fend for yourself in a brawl.”

She shakes her head. “You’ve just made yourself an enemy.”

He glances at Chaff who’s glaring at him from the other side of the room, where he’s busy talking to Johanna. Haymitch is happy to see he’s nursing a bleeding nose.

“Maybe” And maybe not, Chaff is a little more pragmatic than that and he’s used to Haymitch’s mood swings.

“Or maybe he has learned not to talk so freely about Trinket.” Finnick pips up, just behind him. “Hello again, Katniss.”

Katniss rolls her eyes and leaves for the archery stand.

“Keep your mouth shut.” Haymitch warns him, before Finnick can add anything. “You may be gifted with a trident but I don’t see one right now.”

Finnick only winks. “It will be our little secret.” His eyes widen just then and he gaps openly at something behind him. “Holy shit.”

Haymitch lifts an eyebrow in surprise but turns around to watch what is shocking him so much. He’s not prepared to see the whole room gaping at the archery stand, their face showing everything from fear to amazement. He’s not sure he is prepared to see Katniss shooting target on target either. Knowing she’s a good shot is different from actually seeing the extent of her gifts.

“Ok, are you two a team and do you take requests for alliances?” Finnick blurts out.

Haymitch snorts when she lowers her bow, obviously surprised to find herself the center of attention, finding allies won’t be so hard after all. Even Brutus looks like he’s considering asking her to team up with him right there, right then.

A sentiment which is echoed by Peeta during dinner. “Half of the victors’ mentors came to me after the training. They all want you as an ally, Katniss.”

“I want District 3 and Mags.” she says.

The strength of Effie’s glare is making his skin burn. “And Finnick and Johanna” he adds, for her peace of mind. She knows, as well as he does, that they won’t make it very far with only Volt, Nuts and Mags for companions.

“Not Chaff?” Katniss sounds all innocent but there’s a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Chaff didn’t ask for an alliance anyway.” Peeta objects.

“I wonder why…” Katniss says ironically before exchanging a conniving glance with the boy. When, exactly, had she found time to tell him about that? He’d barely gotten five minutes with Effie before dinner.

“Let it go.” he advises coldly, before turning to Peeta. “Finnick and Johanna.”

“Absolutely no.” Katniss states, definitive.

Effie’s fork bangs loudly against her plate, commanding their attention.

“They’re very kind people, but Katniss, you are not going to win those Games with an old-woman and Nuts and Volts.” The kids aren’t used to her being so direct and Haymitch can’t help but smirk at the red spreading on her cheeks. “You and Haymitch need real allies.”

“I don’t see how a woman who can’t keep her clothes on will help us win.” Katniss answers shortly. “And Beetee and Wiress are really clever. They can be an asset.”

“Effie’s not wrong…” Peeta says carefully. “You don’t want Johanna, but… What about Finnick?”

“I don’t like him” she insists.

“Too bad.” Haymitch cuts in. “Because I want him and you won’t get Mags without him anyway.”

Katniss throws her napkin in her plate heatedly. “I can do without Mags. I can do without any of them. We should stick together and that’s it, we don’t need anyone else.”

“Have you watched them train?” His hand slams on the table. “Pride will be the death of you. Knock it down and take a look around, darling. You go on like that, you will be dead ten minutes in. You need allies.”

“I have you.” Katniss shots back. “We will be quicker with just the two of us, and…”

“And what?” He reaches for his glass. It’s a stupid reflex and he lets go of it as soon as he remembers there’s no wine on the table. “We hunt them down? We try to take them one by one? They will target us first. You may have a chance, I don’t. And could you even do it? Kill people you have just spend hours laughing with?”

She crosses her arms angrily. “To survive? Like you wouldn’t! You beat up Chaff just because…” She stops in time but can’t help glancing at Effie. Haymitch purposely keeps his eyes on the girl, noticing neither Peeta nor Effie are in a rush to put in their cent. “We can do it. You and me. You’re good with a knife and you saw me shoot. We can do it, Haymitch, we just need to be clever about it.”

He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead roughly. She’s giving him a headache. “And then what? We found a bunch of berries and we see what happens?”

“Stop being so stubborn!” she exclaims.

“I will stop being stubborn when you stop being so thick!” he barks, slamming his hand on the table again. He hits it so hard this time that plates rattle. “I am going to die in that arena and I don’t want my death to be for nothing, so take your head out of your ass and start thinking!”

He barely has time to see the hurt flash in her eyes before she’s fleeing. He hears her door slam soon after and Peeta clears his throat.

“I… I will talk to her” The boy is already up and halfway to the door. “I will bring her around, don’t worry.”

The silence that descends on the room after he’s gone is deafening. He doesn’t dare look at Effie who’s utterly still. She takes a shaky breath.

“I… am sorry.” he says, at last. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re going to scold me for disturbing dinner, aren’t you?” His attempt at levity falls short when she doesn’t answer. He’s not brave enough to face her so he keeps on staring at his half-eaten plate of baked potatoes. “Look, sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that.” He can’t tell, from her voice alone, if she’s more angry or upset. “Don’t call me that when you’re planning to die.”

She neatly folds her napkin and stands up, seemingly composed, before heading out of the room, the ticking of her heels emphasizing every step she takes. He knows, somehow, that if he lets her go now they will never go back to what they currently have. He’s tempted to let it play out this way for a couple of seconds, it will be easier for her if she hates him after all… But… Haymitch is a selfish man and he shots out from his chair and gathers her into his arms before she can reach the door. The Avoxes are gone, no one’s there, they’re alone, they’re safe.

“Let me go.” She struggles against him but he only holds her tighter. “Peeta and I spent the day going from sponsor to sponsor, have you any idea of how exhausting that was? We joked, we flirted, we begged, we did all we could to find you both sponsors and then we went to all the other mentors and escorts and we did that all over again.” She’s hitting his chest with her fists now but he doesn’t let go. “You promised me you were going to fight for me. You promised me, Haymitch. And now you say…” Her blows stop suddenly and he buries his face in the crook of her neck. “I can’t even look at you, right now. You’re worse than Katniss. You’re worse than any tribute we ever coached. I hate you.”

“Effie…” Her name is half a whine and half a growl.

She stops struggling at once and sinks against him. “How can you say something so terrible?” she sobs, and he can feel her tears dampening his shirt. “How can you…”

“Because it’s the truth, sweetheart” he says softly. “I can sugarcoat it all you want, but you should be ready for it.”

“Fight!” She hits his shoulder once, to better illustrate her point, maybe. “Fight it! Fight them! Fight.”

“I will try” he sighs against her neck. But he will fail, he doesn’t say aloud.

“It’s not enough.” She moves back and frames his face between her hands. “You will win.”

“Sweetheart…”

She kisses him. “You are all I have.” she whispers, her voice quivering. “I don’t have many close friends; my family, they’re not… You’re insufferable most of the time and I wanted to kill you a billion times, but you are one of my best friend. You are my best friend. You are… You are everything that counts and I love you, so please, don’t make me lose you.”

“Effie, I…” love you. But the words are stuck in his throat. The last time he did say that… He can’t go through that again. So he kisses her again and again, hoping she will understand. He has absolutely no chance to win but Katniss does and he doesn’t want to be a victor again. The truth is he would have rather died the first time. His life is not a real life.

Chapter Text

The next two days are more or less the same. Katniss makes an obvious effort to try to spend some time with every potential ally they have, she makes it up to Haymitch by teaching him how to shoot a bow, and spends the rest of her time hanging out with Peeta. Peeta and Effie exhaust themselves trying to make contacts, establishing their influence and generally working hard to help them. Haymitch patches things up with Chaff but their easy friendship is done for, it seems. And at night, he gets into bed with Effie – always checking the knife is out of reach and reminding her to get far away from him when nightmares kick in – and, every night, he wonders what it would be like to be back with her in his own house. She would hate it probably.

On the final day of training, the only thing people talk about is the private sessions with the Gamemakers. Peeta, taking his new role as a mentor to heart – and probably under threat from Effie – asked them to surprise the judges if they can which is more easily said than done. They all take it as a bit of a joke, teasing each other about what they will do. Katniss, when he left her in the dining area after they’ve called out his name, doesn’t know yet what she’s going to do.

“Don’t do anything stupid” he warns her, as a goodbye and a good luck all rolled into one.

She nods and he steps into the next room. The Gamemakers, he immediately sees, take no interest whatsoever in him. He grabs two knives and goes over to a dummy. It has been long enough since his last drink for the tremor in his hands to have subsided. He can hit the target two times out of three, now. He doesn’t know what else to do and he doesn’t care much, so throwing knives seems a good idea.

He’s about to throw the first knife when he realizes that none of them is looking at him. He tries to catch Plutarch’s eyes but the Head Gamemaker is apparently too busy chatting to pay him any attention. He understands how Katniss had come to shoot an arrow at them during the previous Games, not that he could emulate her even if he wanted to. There’s a new force field protecting them from the tribute’s spur-of-the-moment fits of madness, according to Katniss.

The knives clatters when he let them fall.

He can’t bring himself to care. Effie will probably be mad, but, really, it’s the only thing restraining him from shouting his hatred at them. He may be forced to play in their Games but he will be damned if he play their game again. He refuses to be humiliated at their leisure.

He’s about to just go out when he notices that he has spectators now. The Gamemakers seem to find his stillness curious. Plutarch is staring at him. At last. There’s a warning in his friend’s eyes. What to do now? He wants to do something that will go down in history but, really, it’s hard to beat an arrow and it’s not really his style. So he settles for digging his heels in the ground and spitting in their direction. And then, because that’s the spirit, he gives them the finger before exiting, head high and something like glee beating in his chest.

°¤°¤°¤°

Just this once, Effie arrives late for dinner. She spent the day charming her way to more sponsors and gathering as much info she could from the other escorts. Unfortunately she didn’t learn much they didn’t already know : Brutus’ knee is damaged beyond repair, Cashmere and Gloss are teaming up, Johanna Mason will not hide her disgust for the Quell during her interview… She’s also learned that there had been some comments about her during the first day of training that seem to have left a grudge between Haymitch and Chaff, but she won’t try to find out exactly what happened yet. She will ask Peeta about it, later, he must know everything from Katniss.

“My apologies” she says, taking her place next to Cinna at the table.

“Everything’s okay?” Portia asks, concerned. “It’s not like you to be late.”

“No, I’ve lost track of time, that’s all.” She finally takes in the tense mood in the room. “How did the private sessions go?”

Haymitch is deliberately avoiding looking at her and Katniss is stirring her soup as if it is the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Please.” Peeta sighs. “It can’t be worse than what Katniss did last year, can it?”

Haymitch and Katniss exchange a look that says loud and clear that it can and will be much, much worse. She braces herself for what they’re about to say, already promising herself not to tear up again. The number of times Haymitch had to comfort her those last few days is disturbing, she has always considered herself a strong woman and she’s not the one going in the arena. Of course, she’s the one staying behind and that’s nearly as bad, but…

“Come on, what did you do?” Cinna seems as resigned as she is to their foolish recklessness.

“Well…” Katniss keeps stirring her soup. “They seemed really angry when I went in, so… I don’t know I got angry too, I think.”

“Angry?” Effie manages to keep her voice inquisitive rather than purely anxious. “Why would they be angry? It makes no sense.”

Cinna sighs and turns toward Haymitch who’s sipping his soup quietly – which really should have alarmed Effie, when Haymitch is quiet, problems soon follow. “Tell me you didn’t lose your temper.”

“I… didn’t actually say anything to them if that’s what you mean.” Haymitch keeps on eating, the fact that he’s the only one doing so apparently going unnoticed by him.

“You antagonized them, didn’t you?” Peeta’s is obviously prepared to hear something dreadful. “After I expressly told you not to.”

Effie’s painted nails are impatiently tapping against the edge of the table. “What did you do, Haymitch?”

He flinches at her abruptness. “Don’t get upset, sweetheart.”

“Is it that bad?” Peeta cringes.

Effie can’t help but notice Katniss is strangely silent.

“I flipped them off.” Haymitch says at last. “And I may have spat at them a little, too.”

She closes her eyes and forces her breathing to remain even.

“I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane’s name on it?” Katniss cuts in.

Effie doesn’t even listen to Cinna’s disbelieving question, she doesn’t even try to ask Katniss how she can possibly know about that, she just leaves the table and goes back to her room where she sits on the bed and lets her head drop in her hands. They’re going to their death, both of them. The Gamemakers will target them and this will be that.

There’s a knock on her door and Haymitch come in before she can ask him to go away. She’s crying again and she’s tired of him wiping her tears away. She would like to be strong for him. He crouches in front of her and takes her hands in his, it can’t be comfortable for his knees but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He just stares at her with a driven intensity.

“I’m sorry if I’m hurting you” he says after a while “but you have to understand that the other tributes are not the only ones we’re fighting against.”

This is treason talk .

“I know.” She squeezes his hands a bit to make sure he knows she’s not actually angry at him, just worried out of her mind. “I understand.”

He nods once. “Good.” His knees crack a little when he comes to sit beside her on the bed. “I want you to be careful. Stay as far from all this madness as you can.”

“If it comes to choosing sides…” she says but he kisses the end of her sentence away.

“I don’t want you to choose a side. I don’t want you to be caught up in any of this. You’re already associated with us and everybody knows you’re a little more liberal than a good Capitol citizen should be.” He strokes her cheek lovingly. “Stay safe.”

“I am not about to stay safe when you’re not. I’m on your side” she argues. “Always.”

Something flashes in his eyes just then but it’s gone so fast she can’t read it. He smiles though, a soft smile that makes something warm uncoil in her stomach.

“There’s something else” She instinctively lowers her voice. “I saw Peeta with Plutarch today and he’s been gone all afternoon yesterday. He’s not the only mentor acting oddly.”

“He’s probably trying to make deals.” Haymitch frowns but she can see he’s not entirely convinced.

“They’re plotting something.” She’s sure of it. “I think it has to do with the Games.”

“Stay out of it.” He snaps at her abruptly. “Whatever it is they think they’re doing, it will be dangerous. Stay out of it, you hear me?”

She’s saved from answering by a series of knocks. “They’re about to announce the scores.” Peeta says through the door.

They go back to the sitting-room and gather around the television. Effie graciously accepts Katniss’ apology and settles on the couch, next to Portia. She’s a little surprised when Haymitch sits beside her and stretches his arm on the back of the sofa, behind her head but nobody seems to notice. It’s not long before the tributes’ faces appear on screen, their scores flashing under the pictures. Unsurprisingly the careers tributes all score high. When Katniss asks if they ever gave a zero, Effie makes an effort to remain calm, Haymitch’s arm is warm against the back of her neck and it helps her stay grounded.

A zero would have been bad but, in the end, it’s even worse than that. They both strike a twelve. It had never happened in the whole history of the Hunger Games.

“Why did they do that?” Katniss asks, in the resulting silence.

“To make us targets.” Haymitch says, in a matter of fact tone of voice, while Peeta turns off the television mournfully. “We were stupid, darling. This is a death warrant.”

“And those games aren’t?” Peeta rushes to Katniss’ defense. “I can’t say I approve of what you both did but… If we have to go down, let’s go as ourselves, shall we? Chin up and proud of who we are. Show them they don’t control us.”

“Defiant to the end.” Katniss agrees. “It will give hope to… other people.”

Effie closes her eyes and leans a little into Haymitch’s side.

“You can’t talk like that, Peeta.” Cinna warns. “If anyone heard you…”

“If anyone heard him it couldn’t get much worse.” Haymitch cuts in. “And he’s right. I’ve been playing that game long enough. I’m out now, apparently – not that anyone told me properly, mind you – so I will do things my way.”

Effie frowns and opens her eyes fast enough to see the long look Cinna and Haymitch are exchanging. What was that about, she wonders.

“Don’t talk like that” Portia seems ready to collapse. “Not here.”

“Haymitch, I’ve been thinking…” Katniss says “We shouldn’t take allies. The Gamemakers will target us specifically. If we…”

“Yes.” Haymitch cuts in. “You’re right. I agree.”

“That is not a good idea.” Peeta doesn’t seem to like that very much and Effie doesn’t either. “You need…”

“I won’t be responsible for their death.” Haymitch carries on. “The tables have turned. You can go to every sponsor you know, it will take a miracle to bring us back from this Games. Can you do miracles, boy?”

Haymitch is staring at Peeta and Peeta is frowning. Effie’s heart beats a little faster when she understands what’s happening. Something is planned and Peeta is right in the middle of it.

“I may try.”

Peeta’s words are uncertain but Cinna’s are not. “We’ve talked enough nonsense. We should let you go to bed, I’m sure you’re tired. Portia?”

Effie has never seen Cinna and Portia leave so fast, they’re out the door before she can even properly say goodnight.

“What’s gotten into them?” she asks Haymitch when the elevator doors have shut on them.

He’s leaning against the wall, his face is closed. “They feel guilty.”

“Why on earth would they feel guilty?” she wonders out loud, letting Haymitch usher her into his room, after making sure no one is around. “They’re not responsible.”

“They’re hiding something” he snarls and then lets out a sigh. “Let’s forget about that, shall we? Let’s just… be happy for the time we have left.”

He has become quite apt at removing her wig by now and it’s not long before she shakes her head to free her hair from the net. She thinks she will let them grow longer since he likes it so much and then she remembers that he may not be there to enjoy it and she can’t help the pain in her chest at that thought. Her movements become frantic and she almost rips his shirt in her need to take it off, to feel his skin against hers. They’re rougher than usual that night, it feels desperate. Effie can’t get rid of this impression of impending doom. She wants time to stop but somewhere, out of reach, a clock is slowly ticking away their time together.

Later, in the dead of night, they lie together, curled up in the middle of the bed, but neither of them can sleep.

“Cancel the coaching session tomorrow.” Haymitch says. Her head is on his chest and she can feel the rumble of his voice. “Katniss will do well on her own.”

“What do you want to do?” she asks, because she guesses that canceling the session has more to do with wanting to spend time with her rather than an overdose of confidence in Katniss’ public skills.

“I want…” His voice trails off a little and when he continues there’s a yearning there. She can feel it because it’s tugging at a similar longing in her heart. “I want to take you back to District 12 and show you the hill behind the mine. When you’re laying just in the right spot, at sunset, it looks like everything is covered in gold, you would like it… I want you to come live with me and drive me crazy about the proper shade of yellow for the curtains I don’t want but you will insist on having… I want to not be damaged good anymore and for the Games to stop, so we can have a little girl who looks just like you… I want to wake up every morning with you in my arms and go to sleep each night complaining because you always steal the covers… I want… I want to spent the rest of my life with you.”

“I don’t think we can do all that in a single day.” she says after a while, when she’s sure her voice isn’t going to betray her. “That’s why you have to come back. We have a lot of things to do. I should start making a list.” He scoffs and kisses the top of her head. “And the curtains won’t be yellow, they have to be pink, obviously.”

“Over my dead body” he replies, but she can hear the smile in his voice. “You won’t drop pink all over my house.”

“Our house.” she reminds him. “That means I’m entitled to choose half the furniture.”

“See, I knew you would drive me crazy.” His fingers are playing with her hair and he tugs on them gently to make sure he has her attention. She rises her head, half-leaning on his chest. There’s this strange spark in his eyes again, something warm and loving that makes her toes curl and butterflies dance in her belly. “How much do you love me?”

“Do you really have to ask?” She slides her hand down his ribs. “Or do you want me to show you?”

“Later, love” he smirks before extracting himself from under her. “Come with me.”

She watches him put his pants on with a frown but he obviously expects her to follow him so she snatches the shirt from where he has discarded it on the foot of the bed and slips it on.

“Where are we going?” She hopes they won’t accidentally meet Peeta or Katniss in a corridor because the shirt is too short for her and doesn’t do a good job at keeping her decent.

He doesn’t answer nor does he explain, he just leads her by the hand to the living-room and leaves her there for several minutes. He returns with a loaf of bread in his hand and kneel in front of the fireplace. He expertly rearranges the logs and grabs the first magazine he finds on the coffee-table.

“I think this is decorative, Haymitch.” She says when she understands what he’s about to do. “I’m not sure you can…”

“Come here, sweetheart” He extends his hand to her with a pleading expression that clearly says he would prefer for her not to refuse. How could she say no to that? Even if the fireplace blows up or fills the room with smoke. She takes his hand and kneels besides him, the tiles are cold under her legs. He lets go of her long enough to take matches out of his pocket and set the magazine on fire.

“What are we doing?” she asks him because as charming as a wood fire is, the moment seems charged with meaning somehow and she feels like she’s missing out on something.

“Take that and light the fire.” he instructs and hands her the magazine which is quickly being eaten away by the flames. She doesn’t particularly like the idea of something consuming itself between her fingers so she quickly puts it in the fireplace. His hand closes around her wrist and guides her movement. “Under the logs or it won’t catch. Like that.” It takes only a few seconds for the fire to start and Effie waits for the disaster but nothing happens – not only decorative, then. “Here” he breaks the loaf of bread and gives her half of it. “This will do.” He grabs the poker and runs his share of the bread through. “Put yours, now.” She follows his instructions, still not understanding what it is all about until he brings the poker above the fire, low enough for the flames to lick the bread but high enough for it not to catch fire.

“You do realize we have toasters?” she says and his mouth twitches.

“This is called a toasting” he explains, pulling the bread out of the fire. He blows on it several time and then gives hers back careful not to burn himself. “We do that in District 12 when…” He seems unsure, all of a sudden. She takes a bite and munches on the bread that is more scorched than toasted. Haymitch eats his half slowly.

“When?” she prompts after some time.

His eyes trail over her slowly, reverently, but when they focus on her face, they’re harder, more determined. “For luck” he says. “We do that for luck.”

“Oh” She’s disappointed but she can’t exactly pin-point why.

And just like that, the moment’s gone. He puts out the fire and they go back to bed.

“We’re not getting out of bed tomorrow” he states when they have settled much like they always do: he’s on his back and she’s draped all over him.

“Would it be up to you we would never get out of bed” she points out, knowing full well she’s right.

His fingers brushes the skin near her neck and move down, following the path of her spinal cord. “Nobody ever complained about being in my bed. Are you complaining, sweetheart?”

“We’re in my bed.” She won’t be bested at that game. “Plus, I don’t hear you complaining either.”

“Our bed” he says, then. “That means I’m entitled to half of what’s in it and I think I want you.”

“Does that mean I can have you, then?” she smiles.

“I’m all yours, princess” There’s something strangely solemn in his voice. “Now and forever.”

Chapter Text

The knock on the door comes just when Portia has judged him presentable enough. He’s wearing a black tuxedo, there originally was a rose at the buttonhole but he crushed it as soon as he saw it.

“We have to go down now or we will be late.” Effie says, from the threshold. Her jaw is set and her hands are clenched into fists. “Katniss is waiting.”

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asks, frowning.

He hasn’t seen her all day because of the preparation but when they had parted in the morning she had looked ready to face the day. Now, she just looks… fuming.

“Wait until you see Katniss” she cringes.

“President Snow has made Cinna aware Katniss was to wear her wedding dress tonight.” Portia explains.

Haymitch grits his teeth and signals for them to lead the way. The others are waiting near the elevator and Katniss is indeed wearing her would-be wedding dress. It looks more like a shroud than anything else to him.

“You look dashing, Haymitch. I almost didn’t recognize you.” the girl says, going for levity in the midst of their obvious discomfort. Peeta, particularly, seems ready to punch the walls.

“Why, thank you” he replies, while they all cram the elevator. “I would return the compliment but white isn’t your color.”

“Haymitch, really!” Effie reprimands him with disapprobation “You look lovely, Katniss.”

Cinna and Portia go sit in the audience as soon as the elevator reaches their destination. Peeta and Effie linger.

“We’ll stay backstage.” Peeta explains. “It will be easier.”

Easier for what? How many things are they all hiding from him? But Haymitch doesn’t complain because that means he will go back to Effie quicker. You would think an entire day spent in bed would have been enough, but he found out that, where she’s concerned, eternity wouldn’t be enough. She’s even worse than alcohol. He wants her. He needs her. He loves her.

He’s not sure he was right to do a toasting. If she ever finds out what it really means… She will be pissed, and with reason. But either there really is a plan to save them all from the arena – he’s quite sure there is, though, Cinna’s reaction was a tell-tale and Peeta is obviously plotting something. The real question, there, is: will the plan work? – and in that case, he will gladly face her anger when he sees her again, or there isn’t and if he doesn’t make it… Well, then, she will have the comfort to know he loved her enough to go back on his own oath to never marry. It will be easier that way, he thinks.

“See you after the show, sweetheart.” He winks at her and she shakes her head but there’s a smile on her lips.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” she instructs him and smoothes out his suit. Her hand lingers slightly on his shoulder and he catches it briefly.

“Like switching some pieces of paper for instance?” He’s hoping for a blush but she just looks at him like she finds him infuriating.

“I will see you later” she says. “Good luck.”

He’s tempted to look back as he and Katniss make their way to the other tributes but he reigns in the impulse. This is neither the place not the time to be obvious. The tributes all fall silent when they see Katniss’ dress, it’s worse when she explains to Finnick that Snow requested it. He stands beside her and glares at the most unfriendly ones but, overall, the dress has the absolute opposite effect Snow intended. Johanna straightens Katniss’ pearl necklace and whispers something he doesn’t quite catch and then, the show is on, and they’re going on stage.

He listens, slouched in his chair, as Caesar Flickerman begins to interview them one by one. With the exception of Brutus, Enobaria and those who are too far gone in drugs, every tribute more or less ingeniously questions the Games, Snow and the government. The highlight of the evening is, of course, Johanna who is always ever so blunt and openly asks whether something can be done to stop the Quell. Chaff, who is obviously fed up with the whole thing inquires about Snow’s motivations and it’s delightful to see Caesar’s growing panic as he feels less and less in control.

And then, of course, Katniss is called forward and all hell breaks loose. The crowd has been weeping, sniffing and growing more and more restless, calling for a suspension if not a cancellation of the Games, but when they see Katniss in her wedding dress… A fourth of her time has gone by the time Caesar can call the audience back into order.

They have barely exchanged two sentences before Katniss is twirling like the little girl she’s never really been.

Smoke engulfs her immediately and Haymitch can see flame licking at her dress, he’s halfway out of his chair, because he’s sure that it’s Snow’s doing, that it’s a trap, when he catches sight of Peeta, just at the edge of the set, who shakes his head. The camera, however, didn’t miss his obvious concern, he sees his face on the giant screen before it pans out on Katniss again.

It takes only a few seconds for the wedding dress to change into something else : a mockingjay.

Cinna just committed suicide.

His ears are ringing with the shock of it all and he doesn’t hear Caesar ask after Peeta nor Katniss answer that he’s just there, backstage. When Peeta comes on stage, Haymitch understands it was all planned from beginning to end. Katniss couldn’t have been in on it because she looks as worried as he is. But you never should underestimate Peeta. He kisses Katniss as soon as he arrives, and it’s so desperate, so hopeless, that it’s no wonder the crowd is raging again. And then, Peeta drops the next bomb. Katniss’ time is almost up, there’s no time for subtlety or details. He answers Caesar’s sympathetic question with this little bit of information : Katniss and he married in secret and she’s pregnant.

Haymitch is pretty sure the audience is about to launch itself in a riot. Half of them are standing and shouting for a cancellation. Caesar’s voice is lost amidst the chaos but he still sends Katniss back and Haymitch takes her place. She squeezes his hand when they pass each others.

Half his time has tickled away by the time Caesar manage to make himself heard. There’s a trace of apprehension, if not fear on his face.

“So, Haymitch…” Caesar’s smile is strained. “You volunteered, why? Did you wanted to go back into the arena? Eager for a fight?”

He’s clearly hoping for a response similar to Enobaria’s or Brutus’ and Haymitch can’t help but smirk.

“I couldn’t let Katniss’ lover boy go back now, could I?” he shots back, over the crowd.

The warning glare Caesar sends his way is restrained but clear. It won’t take much more to totally lost control of the crowd now, they already have to shout to be heard.

“You were Peeta and Katniss’ mentor, are…” Caesar’s voice is drown by the angry shrills of the audience. “Can we expect you to protect Katniss ?”

“She doesn’t need protecting” he says, during a lull in the shouts. “She’s a strong woman.”

The crowd is chanting the name of several victors now. Katniss and Finnick seem to be the favorites.

“Yes, we all love her very much.” Caesar deadpans.

“A shame you’re sending her to her death, then.” Haymitch growls. “All the more so given she’s with child.”

And then, the crowd really goes wild. The anthem begins before he even has time to go back to his chair. He feels Katniss’ hand clutching at his and when he looks up toward the screen, he sees she has grabbed Chaff’s lump too. And Chaff has gripped Seeder’s hand who has done the same on the other side and, soon, there’re standing as no group of tributes ever stood. They’re standing in an unbroken line, resilient and challenging.

The victors undefeated.

The screens begin to go black but it’s too late. Everybody saw and now it’s total, utter chaos. They’re guided back to the elevators by Peacekeepers. Haymitch catches sight of Johanna and Finnick trying to reach them but they’re pushed into the elevator and there’s nothing to do but to go up.

“I don’t have to tell you they won’t cancel the games.” Haymitch says because the silence seems deafening after the roar of the crowd.

“I know.” Katniss sighs. “I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

“There’s much we don’t know about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing yet.”

The elevator chimes when they arrive at their floor and they stumble out. Haymitch goes to the bay windows immediately, the streets are in total disarray. It’s anarchy out there.

“They’ve sent the others home.” Peeta announces, when he finally gets there. “Even Effie, I’m sorry Haymitch. They don’t want anyone in the building but tributes, mentors and staff. It’s madness out here.”

Katniss touches his arm in a useless attempt at comfort.

“It’s probably better that way.” he lies. “No goodbyes.”

“Look…” Peeta says. “While you’re both here, I need you to remember who you’re fighting against tomorrow.”

“Dangerous, vicious former victors.” Katniss sighs. “Don’t worry, I remember the tapes.”

Peeta seems uncertain.

“Can I have a word with you in private, boy?” Haymitch asks because he’s tired of all that secrecy. “Don’t worry, darling, I just want to say my goodbyes. I will give him back.”

Katniss doesn’t hesitate for long. “I’m going to bed.” She hugs Haymitch fiercely. “I will see you tomorrow.” Her hand brushes Peeta’s and Haymitch is trying really hard not to be resentful. It’s not their fault there’s no hand for him to hold. “Don’t be long.”

Peeta breathes out deep as soon as she’s out the door. “Look, I can’t tell you anything. Remember who you’re really fighting against, stay alive and everything will be fine. I won’t let you down, neither of you.”

Haymitch entertains the idea of pressing the point and then rejects it.

“I trust you” he says, and he means it too. “That is why I need you to do something for me.”

Peeta seems relieved. “Everything I can do, I will.”

“I will have Katniss’ back.” Haymitch vows. “I need you to have Effie’s.”

“I will do my best.” Peeta swears in turn but it’s not enough.

“I don’t want your best, boy, I want her safe.” Haymitch growls. “I entrusts her to you. You don’t want to know what I will do if I get out of this arena and she’s not there to greet me, are we clear?”

“Cristal.” Peeta says. “I will take care of Effie, you take care of Katniss.”

Haymitch nods and heads out. Under any other circumstances, he would have hugged him goodbye but they haven’t been the best of friends since the reaping.

“Haymitch?” Peeta calls him back and he stops on the threshold but doesn’t turn back. “Please, take care of yourself too.”

“Is that your last advice?” he asks, staring into the dark corridor.

“Stay alive, that’s my last advice.”

This is an old joke between them and Haymitch almost smiles before going to his room. The place is dark and lonely. He turns and turns in his bed, unable to fall asleep. It has only been a few days but he’s already used to Effie’s light weight on his chest at night, it feels weird to be alone. His pillow smells like her. He wonders if she has managed to get home with all the mobs out there, if she’s alright, if she’s thinking about him... He has never told her he loves her. He had tried again, after he toasted the bread but the words didn’t want to come out. It’s too late now.

When Portia knocks at his door, before dawn, he’s been awake and dressed for hours, waiting. They go to the roof and, in the distance, he spies another hovercraft. Katniss’ probably. He forces himself to eat and drink plenty, knowing food will be a luxury in the arena but he doesn’t really answer to Portia’s fake cheerful chatter. There are dark bags under her eyes and her hands are shaking when she helps him slip in the blue jumpsuit, the padded belt and the nylon shoes that were left for him in the Launch Room. He instinctively twirls the golden bangle around his wrist when he’s all dressed, glad for this reminder.

“Nice token.” Portia comments. “It matches Katniss’ pin.”

“That’s the idea, I think” he shrugs.

It doesn’t remind him of Katniss’ pin. It reminds him of golden hair.

“We had trouble going through the mobs, yesterday.” Portia says, suddenly. “Effie stayed at my place, it’s closer to the Training Center. You know about her new boyfriend?” He can only nod, too much aware they are listened to. “She loves him very much. She asked me to make sure you knew that.”

He has trouble swallowing. His mouth feels dry all of a sudden.

“I’m sure he does too” he manages to reply. “She’s a one in a million kind of girl.”

The electronic voice tells him to prepare for the launch, then, and Portia walks him to the circular metal plate.

“Good luck.” Portia says, tears rolling down her cheeks, just as the cylinder slides around him.

The doors burst open behind her just then and Peacekeepers storm in. He hits the glass, knowing there’s nothing he can do but unable to stand by and let her be… One of them smashes his gun against her head and they drag her out. He’s still banging on the glass and screaming himself hoarse when the plate begins to rise.

He’s confused at first. The sun is too bright, the ground is shining and then he feels the water laps over his boots and that’s when he realizes there’s no ground around him. He’s surrounded by water.

He should probably have added learning how to swim to his training list.

Chapter Text

Part 4 : The clock strikes twelve

“Did I miss anything?” Peeta asks, as soon as he enters District Twelve apartment’s living-room.

Effie is relieved to see him, she feels so anxious she’s about to bite her nails which is neither proper nor practical given that her manicure took her two hours.

“They’ve just explained how the arena works this year.” She nods at the screen, where Caesar is boastfully joking about good old times coming back through the former victors. “It is..”

“A clock.” Peeta cuts in. “I know. I didn’t miss the start, though, right?”

She watches him pour himself a glass of water and then sighs. “No. It should start in a few minutes.” She rearranges the cushions on the couch for the third time. She’s been absolutely restless since last night. Being requested to leave the building without saying goodbye to Haymitch or Katniss had been tough, trying to struggle their way through the mobs in the streets has been hellish and, of course, there was the matter of Cinna and Portia’s safety. Effie nearly fainted when she had seen Katniss turn into a mockingjay, it’s the worst thing they could have done. The pin, Rue’s birds, and now the wedding dress turned into a mockingjay? Katniss isn’t just a symbol of defiance anymore, she’s become the incarnation of the rebellion, Effie’s sure of it. And Haymitch is caught right in the middle of it all. If they manage to go through this, it will be by sheer luck. Speaking of luck… “Should we have a toasting?”

She’s not prepared for Peeta spitting out half his water. “What?” the boy sputters.

“Really, Peeta, the mess you’ve made…” An Avox is already rushing to mop up the water, the male one, Haymitch and Katniss’ friend. She smiles at him but he’s staring at her with an odd look on his face. “Anyway, a toasting?” she tries again, careful to keep her voice merry. She won’t cry and become a mess when Haymitch is in danger. She’s determined to be strong and efficient throughout this whole ordeal, that’s how she will be the most useful to him. Portia should have given him her message by now… “We have just a little time before the Games begin.”

“Effie…” Peeta seems torn between reaching out to her and putting as much distance as possible between them. “What are you talking about?”

“Isn’t that what you do for luck in District Twelve?” She frowns. Looking back on that night, there was something oddly solemn in that moment when Haymitch made her start a fire and toast the bread. Something a mere custom couldn’t explain. But…

“Toastings aren’t for luck, they’re… like a wedding ceremony of sorts. In District Twelve, nobody feels truly married without a toasting. You basically just proposed to me.” Peeta explains slowly. “Effie, what’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet.”

“Nothing, nothing” she sing-songs, her voice cracking. She collapses on the couch more than she sits. “I must have misunderstood, my apologies.”

“It’s alright.” Peeta says, sitting next to her.

He keeps sneaking concerned glances her way but she stares right at the television and forbids herself to glimpse at the fireplace – the fireplace where, apparently, she got married. You would think that someone would tell a woman before wedding her but… Not Haymitch, of course. Would he have told her if they had shared a last night together or would he have gone to his death without making her aware that she’s now his wife? Her vision is blurred and she blinks quickly to get rid of the tears she refuses to shed.

“Effie… Did Haymitch… Did you have a toasting?” Peeta asks softly, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

She fakes a bright smile and waves him off. “It’s about to start.” She turns the volume on.

“If you’re just joining us now, welcome to the 75^th Hunger Games!” Caesar’s voice bounces in the living-room and Effie can’t help but lean a little closer to the screen, on the edge of her sit. “And we’re about to begin. Here are our fearless tributes!” First the camera shows a panoramic shot of the arena, the outline of the clock is obvious from above but it must be really difficult to decipher when you’re actually in the arena, and then zooms in on Cashmere’s face before panning out in a circular shot that shows every tributes, one after another. Haymitch is looking around him, an expression of profound disarray on his face.

“Does he know how to swim?” Peeta asks. She doesn’t say anything, she’s afraid of the answer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!” Claudius Templesmith proclaims, just as the camera focuses on Katniss. She seems lost and afraid and awfully disoriented.

“Can we have a countdown?” Caesar’s face appears at the bottom of the screen. “Yes… Three… Two… And… Happy Hunger Games!”

The gong goes off then but nobody moves except for Katniss and Finnick. Katniss reaches the Cornucopia first and throws herself on a golden bow. And, just then, Finnick appears behind her, she turns around, bow in hand and… Finnick is keeping her at arm length with a trident he’s snatched from the bounty on the other side of the Cornucopia, a nets dangle from his free hand.

“You can swim too. Where did you learn that in District Twelve?”

“We have a big bathtub.”

“You must. You like the arena?”

“Not particularly. But you should. They must have built it especially for you.”

“Lucky thing we’re allies. Right?”

Allies? Effie glances at Peeta who is currently staring at the screen as he would like nothing else than to step right into it. “Come on, Katniss” he hisses. “Come on.”

Effie spies the locket at the same time Katniss does. “It’s your token.”

“Finnick promised to bring it back.” Peeta flashes her a conniving smile and Effie frowns because… But she doesn’t have time to ask. District 5 tribute attacks them and Katniss makes the decision to trust Finnick.

“Where is Haymitch?” she panics when the camera shows the careers slowly reaching the Cornucopia. Most of the tributes are still on their metallic disks but the screen only shows the island at the center of the arena. Katniss and Finnick grab more weapons and fight their way into the water. The camera stays on Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria and Brutus and she squeezes a cushion in her frustration. “Is he still on his disk? Do you see him?”

Peeta shakes his head but grabs her hand. “He will be fine. They both will.”

When it appears that the careers are forming an alliance rather than fighting each other, the camera focuses on Finnick who’s swimming towards the disk on which Haymitch is crouched.

“Did you make it clear to Finnick that Haymitch was part of the deal?” Effie asks but she’s wrong to worry.

“You seem to find yourself in a bit of a predicament, here, Haymitch.” Finnick grins.

“Are you here to help me or kill me?” Haymitch shots back, obviously bored by his friend’s antics.

“Help, I think. I’m a little afraid of your adoptive daughter. She does have a temper that one and she’s awfully good with a bow…”

And, just like that, Haymitch lowers himself in the water and lets Finnick help him to the beach where Katniss hugs him in a fierce embrace and gives him two of her knives. Mags joins them not long after and they head into the jungle. The camera looses interest in them and focuses back on the Cornucopia where the fights are bloody and savage.

Effie can’t help but let out a small cry when Enobaria viciously stabs Cecelia who was trying to snatch a sword from Seeder’s dead body. Peeta immediately seizes her hand but it doesn’t help. It would be different if Haymitch were here, he would understand. Those people are his friends too. Peeta… Peeta doesn’t know them.

“She has three children” she says softly. Are they watching? Of course they are, it’s mandatory in the districts. They probably just saw their mother being murdered on live television. “She… She was a good person.”

“They all are.” Peeta replies and squeezes her hand.

It doesn’t help… It can’t help, not when the water in the arena has turned red with blood, not when it could so easily be Haymitch’s or Katniss’.

°¤°¤°¤°

They are about a mile in the jungle when Finnick requests a break they’re all too happy to grant. The heat, Haymitch figures, will be the death of them, it’s suffocating. They need to find water and fast. Mags seems content to sit at the base of a tree but Finnick keeps looking around as if he were expecting an impending trap. Haymitch clutches at his knives but the sweat on his palms makes it hard to maintain a good grip, fighting in those conditions will be hell. Katniss climbs on a tree to get a little perspective and, eyeing Mags doubtfully – he wouldn’t put it past them to have planned an elaborate trap – Haymitch shifts closer to Finnick.

“What is this all about, then?” He casually adjusts his grip on his knives for the tenth time in two minutes and wonders if he can take Finnick down before the trident stabs him. Probably not.

“I think this is the part when we all run around and try to kill each other” Finnick deadpans but his trident is slightly raised, ready to strike if need be. Mags lifts her head and watches them attentively, a hand on the handle of her awl. “Good thing we agreed on an alliance.”

“Actually, I distinctly remember Katniss and I deciding on not teaming up with anyone.” Haymitch says and he can feel the tension rise a notch.

“She must have changed her mind.” Finnick suggests but he doesn’t lower his trident and Haymitch doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t know what came over Katniss but this is a bad idea. There may be a plan to get them out of there but Haymitch will believe in its chance of success when he’s far from the arena, and, for now, as far as he’s concerned, everyone but Katniss is an enemy.

Katniss lands between them with fluidity and immediately takes in the sudden tension. She casually comes to stand at Haymitch’s side, fingers obviously hitching to reach for her bow.

“Remind me why we changed our minds on eventual alliances?” Haymitch inquires, as calmly as he can manage. Getting out of there alive if Finnick were to decide he wants them dead is going to be near to impossible.

“He has Peeta’s locket.” Katniss explains, but he can hear the displeasure in her voice. She’s as much happy as he is about Peeta’s initiatives. “It’s a gift from Effie.”

“Matching tokens.” Finnick grins but it’s strained. “How cute.”

Haymitch doesn’t like it one bit but he does lower his knives and gestures at Katniss to relax. He has to trust Peeta knows what he’s doing. Remember who you’re really fighting against, stay alive and everything will be fine, the boy said. Who are they really fighting there? It’s hard to see the big picture when everyone is in it for your blood, but he figures Peeta wasn’t talking about the other victors. As to Finnick… There’s a storm coming. But don’t worry, by the time it’s here, we will be in the arena. He obviously knows something Haymitch doesn’t.

“Okay” Haymitch breathes out. “But, for the record, I don’t like it.”

“We don’t have to stay.” Katniss suggests immediately.

“Oh, yes, we do.” Haymitch sighs and waves towards the jungle. “We should go on. We need to find water.”

“But…” Katniss tries, frowning.

“Don’t fret, Katniss.” Finnick jokes, taking off the lock from around his neck. “It isn’t good for the baby.”

The man winks and hands her the golden chain on which dangles a golden disk branded with a mockingjay, before going to pick Mags up once again. She snatches it with a glare and pull it around her own head. She opens it quickly and frowns when she sees photographs of her mother, Prim and Hawthorne inside.

“I… I don’t understand.” Katniss stammers. “He said there was a picture of us…”

The message is clear to Haymitch. “Remember what you’re fighting for.”

She closes the locket silently and slips it under her clothes. “Why Finnick, though? I feel like I’m missing something…” She has lowered her voice enough that the others cannot hear them and Haymitch shrugs.

“You and me both, darling, you and me both…” He quickly evaluates the better way to tackle the situation and concludes that there isn’t one that truly satisfy him. “I will take point. You stay behind and cover me in case they get any ideas.”

“How many dead, Katniss?” Finnick inquires, Mags settled on his back once more.

“I don’t know. Six, at least. They’re still fighting.”

They only have to exchange a look for Haymitch to understand Finnick hoped there would be more.

“We need to find water and a place to hide.” Finnick’s face is deadly serious.

“They will hunt us.” Haymitch agrees and Katniss nods. “Let’s go.”

They begin walking again, their progress is slow and painful. Haymitch is leading, clearing a path with his knife. It’s hard and he’s already sweating more than he can afford with no water at their disposal. His mouth is parched. He could literally kill for something to quench his thirst with – liquor would be nice, but, at that point, he would be welcome water with open arms. Finally, after what feels like hours, the tree line clears in what must be the crest of the hill.  

“Maybe we’ll have better luck on the other side. Find a spring or something.” Finnick doesn’t particularly seem convinced and Haymitch only grunts in answer. He takes a deep breath, gathering his strength and raises his arm again, ready to strike some more of those sturdy branches. Katniss’ warning cry comes just as his knife swings down.

Pain.

Darkness.

Oblivion.

Chapter Text

Effie sets her barely eaten sandwich back down on her plate. Her stomach rumbles a little but it keeps clenching at the mere idea of eating. She’s too anxious to do anything but watch the screen fearfully. Peeta puts down the telephone and joins her once again. It keeps ringing. They want interviews, comments, reactions… She had tried to shield him a little in the beginning, answering the phone and commenting herself, but they’re never satisfied. It’s never enough. So they decided to take turns.

“I scheduled an interview for tonight” he sighs. “What did I miss?”

“More bloodshed” she replies, rubbing her hand against her face. To hell with make-up. “Both of 9 are down.” Which brings the tally to six dead for now and the fight at the Cornucopia doesn’t look like it’s stopping soon.

Peeta picks up her sandwich and steals two or three bites unhappily. He doesn’t seem to be more hungry than her.

“Oh, Oh, Oh, troubles for the team of the girl on fire, it seems!” Caesar’s voice booms suddenly and his face appears in the bottom right corner. “The arena is enclosed in a force field, dear viewers, and it seems they’re heading right towards it. There’re in for a nasty surprise, aren’t they, Plutarch?”

The camera switches point of view, leaving the bloodbath at the Cornucopia for the jungle where Haymitch, Finnick, Mags and Katniss are painfully making their way uphill.

Plutarch’s face takes Caesar’s place in the corner. “I wouldn’t recommend trying to stab it, no.” The Head Gamemaker is laughing and Effie wants nothing more than to strangle him. “Abernathy has a thing for force fields, though. Isn’t that how he won the last Quarter Quell?”

“No… No, stop, stop, stop…” Effie begs while Haymitch swings his knife back and forth to clear the way, unaware of the danger he’s in.

“Yes, you’re absolutely right!” Caesar agrees. “Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the fiftieth Hunger Games, former mentor to everyone favorite girl on fire Katniss Everdeen... His death would surely have a huge impact on her, by all reports they are quite close and he did volunteer to take her fiancé’s place. His death could change the face of the whole game… Ah, they have just reached the edge of the arena where the force field is now, haven’t they, Plutarch?”

“Oh, god…” Peeta breathes out, a hand covering his mouth.

“Yes… Yes, they have.” Plutarch says, but he doesn’t sound too pleased about that.

The four tributes have stopped at the top of the hill and look worse for the wear: dirty, thirsty and exhausted. Haymitch pauses long enough to swipe sweat out of his eyes.

“Maybe we’ll have better luck on the other side. Find a spring or something” Finnick’s voice lacks conviction and Haymitch grunts in answer before preparing to strike the vegetation again.

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that, Haymitch…” Caesar fake sympathetic tone is the last straw for Effie.

She stands up, ready to… To do what? Dive through the screen to save him? She can’t do anything and it hurts.

“Effie, don’t watch.” Peeta warns, grabbing her to make her turn away but she struggles against him, staring at the screen. She doesn’t want to see. She can’t avert her eyes.

Katniss’ cry rings out just as Haymitch slams the knife down.

When Haymitch is flung back against Finnick and Mags, Effie collapses against Peeta, unable to stand upright. The boy catches her and helps her sit down but she can’t hear anything he’s saying.

“That must hurt, ladies and gentlemen…” Caesar laughs.

And then Katniss screams Haymitch’s name and shakes him, slaps his face but…

“I don’t think he’s breathing anymore.” Caesar comments. “Can we have any confirmation on that? Yes? Yes, dear viewers, his heart stopped. How sad… Haymitch was always one for a good laugh…”

Tears are rolling down her cheeks but she doesn’t even feel them. Peeta tries to hold her but she pushes him back. She doesn’t want anyone except Haymitch. She just… She needs Haymitch. Her life has no meaning if he’s not there to antagonize her… It was shallow and sad before he came in, he made her realize that and she can’t, she can’t, ever go back.

“No…” It doesn’t come out as a sob but rather as a helpless whimper. “No…”

“What are they doing?” There’s a hint of wonder in Caesar’s voice, like he can’t phantom what’s happening. “This… It appears District 4 tribute is trying to revive him… That’s… unprecedented to say the least.”

At those words, she lifts her head from her hands and stares at the screen with a hope that’s actually painful because if it’s… But it is true. Finnick is giving mouth-to-mouth and pumping on his chest and… The camera focuses on Katniss who slowly lowers her bow and kneels beside Haymitch. Finnick doesn’t stop.

“Come on… Come on…” Peeta chants, obviously unaware he’s speaking out loud.

Effie holds her breath. She doesn’t want to breathe if Haymitch doesn’t. She doesn’t want to live in a world without him to grit her nerves and kiss her and hint at how much he loves her… She…

Haymitch coughs, opens his eyes wide and pants for air.

“Incredible!” Caesar blurts out “If you’re joining us now, District 4 Finnick Odair just saved District 12 Haymitch Abernathy.”

Effie sobs with relief and, this time, she lets Peeta hug her.

“What happened?” Haymitch growls, a scowl of pain on his face and a hand clutching at his heart.

“A force field happened.” Katniss replies, swiping tears from her face with her sleeve. “You should really work on the ‘staying alive’ part, Haymitch. Your heart stopped.”

Haymitch lifts his head to have a look around and lets it fall again, eyes close. “I’m too old for this crap.”

“That you are, my friend.” Finnick seems worn out. “You’re welcome, by the way. How do you feel?”

“Just peachy.” Haymitch says ironically.

“What a turn of events!” Caesar doesn’t seem entirely delighted by it. “Let’s see what’s happening at the Cornucopia.”

The camera focuses back on the fights still raging on the beach.

“I… I need a drink.” Effie stutters, through her tears. “Something strong.”

“Yes…” Peeta agrees, going over to the drinks cart. “I’m beginning to see why Haymitch is so obsessed with liquor.”

°¤°¤°¤°

They don’t move very far nor very fast from the place where he almost died. Haymitch can’t walk on his own, he needs Finnick’s help to take a mere step – which he hates – and Mags, even leaning on her makeshift staff, isn’t very quick. Katniss stays in front – apparently she has decided she trusted Finnick enough not to kill him while she has her back turned, and Haymitch is awfully grateful for small mercies – showing off with her superhearing when he knows full well her strange capacity to detect force fields has more to do with the rippling squares he glimpses here and there in the air. He really should have paid more attention. Force fields are, after all, a specialty of his.

“It would have been easier to let me die” he comments, low enough that only Finnick can hear. “Nobody would have blamed you.”

Finnick strengthens his grip on him, adjusting their position to make his weight less cumbersome. “Wouldn’t have been very friendly, now, would it? We’ve always been good friends, you and I.”

He can remember Finnick’s first games as a mentor… How devastating it had all been for him. He can remember advising him to find something to help him forget. That something had been Annie. It really wasn’t what he had had in mind.

“Are you that sure of whatever it is you’re planning?” Haymitch whispers, because for a tribute to do what Finnick did… You can’t afford to save anyone in the arena, even your own allies.

“I’m that sure I don’t want to see anymore of my friends die if I can help it” he replies curtly.

“I wasn’t aware we had a choice in that.”

Katniss asserts they’re trapped under a dome soon after stating that she can’t see any water around. They move a few yards down the slope but no providential stream greets them and, when sundown bares on them, turning the air to steam, they decide to camp.

“We can use the force field as a weapon if need arises.” Finnick decides while gathering leaves and grass to weave them together into mats. Mags is collecting some nuts, Katniss is standing guard, and Haymitch can’t do anything but leaning against a tree and remembering to breathe.

“Copycat” he manages to joke but it comes out slurred.

Katniss shots him a worried look right before requesting Finnick takes guard duty while she goes hunting. Finnick and Mags are completely transforming the place, weavings blades into a hut and a bowl for the nuts… They’re making themselves right at home.

“Haymitch, are you sure you’re alright?” Finnick asks at some point.

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are closed and he focuses on his breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out. Each time he breathes in, there’s a piercing pain stabbing through his heart. He’s too old to have that kind of encounter with a force field and come out uninjured. His heart must be damaged.

A chuckle escapes him at that thought but it soon turns into a long and painful cough, that makes Mags frown in concern. She puts her hand on his brow and then on his cheek, clearly trying to determine if he’s running a fever and then, at last, she takes his pulse. He doesn’t need to see her eyebrows knit together more fiercely to know it isn’t as regular as it should be.

“I think my heart’s broken.” he says, to no one in particular or maybe he’s thinking of someone, out there, watching him from behind a screen. Mags pats his hand reassuringly and croaks something he thinks means rest. Rest. What a lovely idea. He closes his eyes again and tries to sleep. He has to trust Finnick to protect them, he won’t be of much use anyway if a fight were to arise. He’s not sure if he actually falls asleep or he’s just delirious but he dreams of white sheets and honey hair spread out on a pillow. The vision is so perfect, his throat clenches a little and he’s gasping when he finally wakes up to find Katniss crouched in front of him, a look of worry on her face.

“I couldn’t find water” she apologies, before pulling down the zip of his suit a little, probably to help him breathe more easily. “And you missed the cannons. The bloodbath is over, eight dead.”

She’s actively not looking him in the eye.

“I think the ninth will fall into a dead ear too” he rasps out. The piercing pain in his chest is doubled by a throbbing in his left arm, now. “Sorry, darling. I wasn’t much help, after all.”

“Don’t.” Katniss hisses. “Don’t you dare give up.”

He can barely see Finnick standing behind her, a hand in his hair, a gloom on his face. Katniss is in safe hands. At least, he thinks she is. Their secret plan he couldn’t be let in on will hopefully work and Peeta will free her from this hell pit.

“Think about Effie.” Katniss bids him. “She’s waiting for you. You can’t give up.”

“Don’t.” he pleads. He doesn’t want to think about Effie. “She doesn’t belong in here.” Effie is made for parties and life not for arenas and death. He can’t think about her there, it would sully her somehow. He loves her too much for that.

“Haymitch, please…” Katniss’ voice is cracking a little but she’s not the kind of girl to break under duress and she quickly conceal this display of emotions behind a fake cough.

“Sorry, darling” he mutters.

She nods slowly and forces a smile on her lips. “Sleep a little more, okay? The pain will stop, I promise.”

When he’s dead?, he wants to ask her, but he can’t bring himself to move his lips again. They’re parched and he feels as if every breath is precious and shouldn’t be wasted on speech. The sky brightens just then and the Capitol seal floats in the night sky. Katniss’ hand rests on his wrist, just on the golden bangle, but her head is thrown back to look at the faces of the eight dead victors projected unto the sky. The lights from above ripples on her, golden and reddish hues that brings her features into sharp focus. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, the mockingjay. The girl he dies to protect.

He doesn’t wonder if she could really do it, change the world, bring down the Capitol because he knows with the right motives there’s nothing she can’t do. She has proven that time and time again. She’s like him : selfish. Selfish people are the most dangerous and love is the most dangerous motivator of all. Snow should never have threatened Prim or Peeta because Katniss will stop at nothing until they are safe.

His last thought before darkness surrounds him once more is for Effie. Because even though he doesn’t want to taint her memory with the horror of the arena, he’s selfish and he can’t help but desire the small comfort of her face.

Chapter Text

Effie’s on the phone when Peeta comes back from his interview. She followed it on the screen, of course, but has muted the television as soon as the live from the arena stopped. A new host is busy interviewing other people now, former victors turned mentors, tribute’s family members… She has more urgent preoccupations than listening to that, though.

“I can’t find Cinna nor Portia anywhere” she tells him, after she hangs up.

“They’ve been arrested this morning in the launching room.” Peeta replies shortly. “Plutarch just told me.”

“Did he say anything else?” She’s not sure at what point Peeta and Plutarch Heavensbee have become the best of friends but it sure comes in handy to learn things beforehand. “Can we do something to help?” She has to ask even if she knows that there’s nothing to do. Cinna and Portia are lost to them for now.

“I thought you would react worse than that.” Peeta looks angry and frustrated and, really, she’s not in a better state. She would weep for her friends if she could but, at that point in time, she simply doesn’t have the luxury.

“I phoned some sponsors while you were out.” She grabs the list from the coffee table and looks it over. “Most of them don’t want to help District Twelve anymore, even those who pledged themselves to us. It seems…”

“The word on the street is that President Snow would prefer for District Twelve not to win and sponsors are far from being idiots.” Peeta finishes for her. “I know. I was made aware.”

“But we need sponsors.” Effie insists, glaring at the list while keeping an eye on the television in case something happens. “They need water. We have to…”

“That’s taken care of.” Peeta cuts in. “They should receive it later tonight.”

“How did you manage that?”

Peeta is elusive in his explanations and she’s so sure he’s hiding something important from her… But there’s no point in asking when she knows he won’t answer, so she keeps reviewing the list, hoping someone may be swayed to their cause. This is a task she could do in her sleep, she’s spent so much time doing the same with Haymitch over the years…

“They’re going back to the arena.” Peeta calls her, turning the volume on.

“I’m back with you, dear viewers!” Caesar announces joyfully “Thank you, Arcturus, for those interesting interviews. Now, time to see what happened to our favorite victors…” Her heart is hammering in her chest by the time Caesar comments upon the careers’ alliance, Chaff’s desperate flee through the jungle and the other small groups of tributes. “Ah, I’m told something interesting is happening in the team of the girl on fire… Remember, Haymitch Abernathy had an unfortunate encounter with a force field, earlier today, and had to be revived by District 4 tribute Finnick Odair. It doesn’t seem to have worked out so well after all. Do we have footage?”

“What are they talking about?” Effie whispers. “He was fine.”

The camera cuts from Johanna Mason’s campsite to a patch of jungle where Katniss and Finnick are having a private conversation aside from Haymitch who’s slumped against a tree, obviously unconscious. Mags is wiping his brow with her sleeve but he keeps trashing sluggishly even if his eyes are closed.

“What happened to him?” Effie asks, aware Peeta won’t know the answer but unable to stay put.

“I don’t think he’s going to make it, Katniss, I’m sorry.” Finnick’s voice is low and pained.

“Of course he’s going to make it!” Effie objects. “What are they talking about?”

Peeta doesn’t answer, he rubs at his mouth, a focused look on his face.

“Of course, he will.” Katniss scoffs, crossing her arms. “He just needs water.”

“We all need water. It’s more than that.” Finnick glances at Mags who nods slowly. “He’s old. The force field… He needs medical care, more medical care than we can give him.”

“Oh god.” Effie says, clutching at her list, considering every name on it and then rejecting it right away. Nobody would help if Snow has implied he didn’t want them to.

“He’s only forty.” Katniss points out but she’s really worried, Effie sees it at the way she pinches her mouth.

“It’s old for a tribute.” Finnick is firm. “And I would wager all those years of alcohol abuse didn’t do much for his health.”

“Peeta, we need to find someone to help.” Effie says, in a directive tone. “Your mysterious sponsors…”

He nods once and grabs the phone, stepping away a little so she can hear nothing but a muffled conversation.

The camera zooms in on Haymitch’s face, when Katniss crouches in front of him, his eyes flutter open and he gasps a little. “I couldn’t find water” she apologizes while opening his collar wilder to help him breathe. “And you missed the cannons. The bloodbath is over, eight dead.”

“I think the ninth will fall into a dead ear too. Sorry, darling. I wasn’t much help, after all.”

Hearing him talk is atrocious, he’s heaving with every breath and each word is rasped out as if they’re scraping his throat on the way out.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare give up.” Katniss hisses and Effie could hug her if she wasn’t so busy looking at her list for the third time in two minutes.

“They won’t help.” Peeta says, crossly, coming back to the couch. “They will make sure the spile arrives as soon as possible, but they can’t send the kind of medicine he needs. Too expensive, they say.”

“His life is at stake.” Effie growls. “Who are they? Let me talk to them…”

“It’s no use. They’re all the same in the end. They don’t care about us.” Peeta is so angry now he violently kicks the couch so hard it slides a few inches to the right.

“Peeta, I need you to explain what…” she begins but the sound of her name on television makes her turn her head towards the screen once again.

“Think about Effie.” Katniss says. “She’s waiting for you. You can’t give up.”

“Shit. I was hoping to keep you out of it.” It’s the very first time she hears Peeta swear.

“It doesn’t matter.” Effie waves his concerns away with a careless gesture of her hand. “What matters is…”

“Don’t.” Haymitch begs and it simply breaks her heart. “She doesn’t belong in here.”

The phone starts ringing right then.

“Could they be talking about Effie Trinket?” Caesar whispers confidentially, as if he didn’t want to disturb Katniss and Haymitch. “Effie Trinket is the well-known escort for District 12, dear viewers. We will try to get you a comment from Miss Trinket… I sense a secret affair, ladies and gentlemen…”

“Shit.” Peeta says again, taking up the phone once again. “Yes. No, she’s not available for comment right now.”

“Haymitch, please.”

“Sorry, darling.”

Effie can see the exact moment when Katniss gives up hope. Her face closes up a little and she fakes a smile. “Sleep a little more, okay? The pain will stop I promise.”

“We need medicine.” Effie says in an efficient tone of voice. Panicking won’t resolve anything. This is her job and she’s good at her job. All she needs is… “We need to find money.”

“We can try settling an interview for you, play the lover card, maybe.” Peeta puffs out a deep sigh. “But, Effie, it didn’t work for Katniss and, no offense, but if I can’t sell it…”

“It won’t work if the sponsors are ‘encouraged’ not to help us” she agrees. “I have another idea.” Caesar is musing about their possible relationship now, there’s a slideshow of pictures of Haymitch and her at different venues, all from the Victory Tour. She wonders, briefly, if they have been tempered with or if Haymitch and she actually do stand that close to each other… “Give me the phone, please.”

“Who are you calling?” Peeta asks as she dials the number from memory. “This kind of medicine is expensive, even if…”

“Hello, Daddy” she says brightly, effectively shutting Peeta up. It’s actually painful to scrape up a smile and a cheerful voice. “Are you watching the Games?” She barely listens to her father’s answer. “Listen, could you send me some money?” She hates doing that, god, how she hates doing that… Asking for money is never a problem, her father is rich enough and he usually gives her what she needs with a mere reminder that he won’t be here forever to finance her. He could buy an entire district and still have some to spare though, but it’s what comes after he lends the money she hates. The lectures and reproaches her mother can’t help sending her way : she’s never good enough for her mother, not good like a prettier sister who married a wealthy Capitol politician and never bothers their parents for money. Effie chose her life early. She’s always dreamed of glory and fashion, becoming an escort for the Hunger Games had seemed the perfect place to start. Ten years later, she’s still in the same place and, to her family, she’s a failure. The daughter her parents are ashamed to mention in polite society and the sister her sibling never acknowledges even when they pass each other at a Capitol event or another. “Yes, it’s for District 12 tribute, Daddy” she replies curtly to her father’s question. “Yes, I’m aware what the other sponsors are saying but I need your help.” Peeta’s eyes are fixed on her face. She turns around because she can’t bear the knowledge that this is their last chance of saving Haymitch and starts pacing up and down the living-room. “No, I’m not doing that because I’m their escort, I’m doing that because he’s my husband.” Oh, won’t the next family dinner be awkward… She can already imagine what her mother will have to say to that tiny bit of information. “Listen, I don’t have time to explain everything to you, right now, can you send me the money or not?” Peeta’s sharp intake of breath, hasn’t escaped her. “Thank you, Daddy.”

She hangs up and gingerly sits on the couch, emotionally exhausted. “There should be enough money on my bank account in a few minutes. If you could make the arrangement for the shipment, I will call the bank.”

“You did have a toasting, then.” Peeta states simply.

“Even if we hadn’t…” she hesitates and then shrugs a little. “He’s my Katniss.” Which is probably the oddest sentence she has ever uttered but Peeta seems to perfectly understand, he nods, a sad smile on his lips.

“We will get them back, Effie, I promise you.”

She’s a little too afraid of starting to cry to answer so she just nods back, with more confidence than she feels.

°¤°¤°¤°

“Haymitch, Haymitch, do you know what this is?”

He’s roused from his painful slumber by a rough shaking of his shoulder but he can barely open his eyes, even less see what the hustle is about. Every breath hurts his body. He wants to curl up in a ball and die but even that would take more effort than he’s willing to give.

“Effie…” he whimpers. He needs her touch to soothe his aches away… If he could just lean his head on her shoulder, he knows the pain will stop. Time stops when he’s with her. She’s magic that way. “Ef…”

“Haymitch.” The voice who doesn’t belong to Effie says. “Haymitch, please, I need you to focus. Do you know what this is?”

An oddly shaped object is thrust under his nose. His vision is blurred he doesn’t understand what they want.

“Haymitch, it’s for Effie.” A male voice joins in. “Effie needs to know what this is. Do you know?”

Effie… Effie… His head rolls from one of his shoulder to another like a doll’s when he tries to take a better look. Effie. He has to protect Effie.

“Stop that” the female voice hisses. “It’s cruel.”

“What’s cruel is having something that could help us and not being able to figure out what it is” the other replies coolly.

Two people, two dark unrecognizable shadows in front of him.

Before his very eyes, there is a hand holding out a… “Spile.” The word thumps on his lips.

“Spile?” the male voice repeats. “What does it mean? Why…”

“I know how to use it!” the female voice rejoices. “The trees! There’s water in the trees!”

“Effie…” he begs.

“She’s alright, Haymitch” the woman swears. “She’s safe. She’s far away.”

Safe.

There’s a hand petting his hand now, playing absent-mindedly with the bangle around his wrist, but it’s not the right hand. This one is old and wrinkled, calloused. Effie has pretty hands. Soft and smooth, so loving and gentle when they’re roaming on his skin…

“Here, Mags.” The male voice says. “You should drink it slowly.”

And then, there’s something carefully pushed against his mouth and a hand on his neck helping him – still not the right hands, too small, too calloused – and there’s water trickling against his lips, down his throat, and it’s pure bliss. He had forgotten he was so thirsty.

“Take it easy.” the female voice commands, when he tries to gulp down too much water at once. “You will make yourself sick.”

“Effie?” he begs once again, when she takes the bowl away.

His eyes flutter close even when he tries to keep them open, so he gives up and lets his head roll against the warm hand on his cheek. Not the right hands, but they’re familiar enough. Katniss, a voice at the back of his head informs him but the name doesn’t mean anything. Nothing means anything but Effie. He remembers Effie.

“Yes” the woman lies. She’s not Effie, he’s sure of it. Effie has a merry voice, a smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes. She’s beautiful the way only a star or a sun are beautiful: blinding and inaccessible. And then, there’s the other Effie. The one hidden under the make-up. The Effie who’s a little scared but too strong to show it, this is the Effie he loves best. She has honey hair he can bury his face in and a skin so pale you can see her veins pumping, blue on white. She has a tiny scar on her hip and eyes you could drown into. “Come on, Haymitch, you should sleep.” Not-Effie helps him lie down. His head is pillowed on her thigh and she runs her fingers in his hair slowly as if he were a little boy trembling from a nightmare.

“Effie…” he mumbles. “Sweetheart…”

Not-Effie is sniffing a little.

“It won’t take long now” the male voice says, softly. “Give him what he needs. I’m sorry, Katniss.”

“Go away before I put an arrow in your chest, Finnick” Not-Effie says, the hand stills in his hair and then. “I’m sorry. Please, go away.”

He tries to open his eyes but his eyelids aren’t complying with his wishes.

“Hurts” he rasps out.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Not-Effie says. “Try to go to sleep. It will be alright.”

She hums something slow. A lullaby, maybe. It reminds him of something, somewhere… Home. Home, he thinks. A home with pink curtains – not yellow, obviously, Haymitch – and children who never were, roaming free in the woods, safe from the Capitol. Laughter, incessant bickering and, more than anything else…

“Sweetheart…” he breathes out.

“I’m here.” Not-Effie says, she sounds like she’s crying. “I’m right here, Haymitch.”

He can picture her so clearly in his mind… Red dress and golden hair, proud and beaming, defiant and yet pained.

“I love you…” He’s not sure the words are more than a sigh but it seems important to say them, somehow.

“I love you too.” Not-Effie half-sobs, half-states. It’s not Effie, he knows, but he doesn’t mind the lie because there is a ring of truth to it.

Chapter Text

The relief they felt when the tributes finally got the spile was short lived. Effie doesn’t think she has ever gone through something as terrible as this moment : watching Katniss hum softly for Haymitch as his breathing gets more and more difficult. He keeps repeating her name like a prayer Effie can’t answer to and it is killing her. Haymitch is a proud man, she has never seen him cry or break even after all those Games. But right now… He would never allow himself to show such vulnerability if he were in his right mind. He’s the shell of the man she knows and loves.

“Peeta, he is dying” she says, feeling strangely disconnected from the situation.

Katniss cradling Haymitch reminds her of what happened the previous year with the little girl from District 11, except it’s a hundred times worse because it’s Haymitch. The girl is obviously a wreck but is trying very hard to hide it and she’s failing spectacularly. Finnick is sitting with Mags, under their weaved hut, a dejected look on their face.

Effie doesn’t feel anything. She’s… empty.

She can hear Peeta raging in the background but his words don’t really register, nor do Caesar’s comments and speculations about Haymitch and her.

“Sweetheart…” Haymitch whines on screen.

“I’m here.” Katniss is biting her lower lip to keep herself from sobbing. “I’m right here, Haymitch.”

Would Effie say something different if she was actually in Katniss’ place? The girl is doing him a kindness, trying to soften his last moments… How much time does he have left, now? A few minutes?

“It should already be there, Plutarch.” Peeta shouts in the strange phone he has taken out of his pocket. It’s not the regular one, it doesn’t belong to the Training Center, but Effie doesn’t ask any question. “I don’t care what your orders are.”

“I love you.”

Can you hear a heart break? Does it make a sound? Effie’s heart rips apart with those three words he has never actually said to her. Those words, in his mouth, are a goodbye as well as a vow of love, she knows.

“I love you too.” Katniss sobs, unable to refrain it any longer.

There is a second, a terrible second, when she thinks it’s over but Caesar’s streaming commentary informs them otherwise. Haymitch is still breathing albeit more and more laboriously. It’s a tragic and painful way of dying according to Caesar.

“Plutarch, listen to me.” Peeta snarls, his eyes on the screen. “I’m calling it, right here, right now, if Haymitch dies and Katniss finds out you could have done something to prevent his death, she won’t want to have anything to do with you. Now, I don’t care who orders you what. You send the shipment or you don’t bother calling me again. There’s a thousand way to light a spark. Katniss may be your mockingjay but you should not underestimate me.”

“Peeta, please.” Katniss whispers, offering her face to the sky and the cameras. “Please.”

“That’s it.”Peeta growls in answer to her plea. “You…” As if in a dream, Effie stands up, skirts around the couch and snatch the phone from Peeta. “Wait, Effie, you can’t…”

“Hello, Plutarch. Effie Trinket speaking.” She knows Plutarch quite well because they attend the same social events but they’re hardly friends. She has seen him with Haymitch a few times, though, she thinks they are friends. “I don’t really care what Gamemakers have planned for the next round, I sponsored a shipment and I want it delivered in the next few seconds or I am going to hunt you down, never mind Katniss or Peeta. Haymitch left his knife behind, did you know?”

She hands the phone back to an incredulous Peeta before Plutarch can even answer. She’s not interested in his explanations or excuses. She’s not stupid, despite what everyone seems to think. It’s obvious Peeta made some kind of deal with Plutarch and it’s also obvious lots of people know more than she does, Cinna and Portia for instance. This isn’t strictly about the Games, it can’t be. So it must have to do with the rebellion no one ever talks about in the Capitol. Well… Capitol or rebels, no one will stop her from taking drastic actions if Haymitch dies before her medicine reach him. That will give her parents something to talk about, at least : their failure of a daughter becoming a crazy mass murderer.

“That was… very impressive.” Peeta stammers after he’s hung up. “If not downright scary.”

“When someone pays for something, you have to deliver.” Effie points out, sitting back down. “Common courtesy.”

“Dear viewers, I’m being told a generous sponsors has sent something to District 12 tributes!” Caesar says, his face appearing again in the bottom right corner. “What unexpected turns of events surrounding Haymitch Abernathy, today…”

The camera follows the slow fall of a silver parachute, Effie closes her eyes, so relieved she can barely breathe. She’s quite sure she will have grey hair before the end of this ordeal.

“Katniss, look!” Finnick shouts, pointing a finger at the parachute. Mags stands up too but Katniss is trapped under Haymitch and can only watch as Finnick jumps to catch it quicker.He tears the casing apart and offers the small electronic device to Katniss and Mags’ inspection.

“Oh, clever, really clever…” Caesar says, clearly impressed. “Haymitch must have wealthy supporters… Or… Shall we say, admirers?” He laughs between explaining to the audience what the engine is and how it works.

“It looks like a beetle.” Katniss says, clearly confused. “How does it work, do you know?”

Finnick only shakes his head but Mags takes it from him and signals to Katniss to hold Haymitch. Effie bites her lips when the old woman forces him to swallow the device.

“Let it work” she prays.

“It will.” Peeta says, with his usual positivity.

“Will it cure him?” Katniss asks Mags but the woman only shrug in answer.

At that point, Haymitch starts trashing. It takes Finnick and Katniss’ combine strength to keep him from hurting himself. It lasts a few minutes and then…

“What happened?” Katniss says, her legs still trapped under his head. “Is he breathing? Finnick, is he breathing?”

Effie’s nails claw at the couch.

“He is sleeping, I think.” Finnick seems relieved. “His pulse is stronger.” Mags mumbles a long sentence that no one understand but Finnick. “She says the device is fixing the internal damages but it will take time. We should try to get some sleep. I will take first watch.”

The scene stops being interesting to watch for the people of the Capitol and the image quickly switches to Johanna Mason’s little group of survivors who are suffering from thirst.

“Crisis averted.” Peeta sighs. “You should go to sleep, Effie, I will wake you if anything…”

“You made a deal with Plutarch Heavensbee.” It’s not a question and Peeta only rubs at his face tiredly.

“Trust me” he requires.

She’s not sure how to meet his demand. She wants to trust him but she can’t forget his first loyalty goes to Katniss. She has to think of Haymitch because nobody else is going to.

“Effie, I’m looking out for them both.” Peeta pleads, as if reading her thoughts. “Trust me.”

She searches his eyes for the slightest trace of duplicity but she only finds earnestness, worry and pain. If Katniss shares similarities with Haymitch, Peeta is like her. The parallel is so striking, at that moment, that she can’t help but be a tad nervous. She would stop at nothing to protect Haymitch – hadn’t she nearly sentenced Peeta to death in her thoughtless attempt to save him from the arena? – and she’s sure Peeta won’t let anything stop him from saving Katniss. They’re in the same boat as long as saving one doesn’t mean condemning the other, because after that…

What sort of deal did Peeta make? Rig the games to make Katniss the winner? Impossible, not with President Snow breathing down the neck of every sponsor rooting for District 12. It must have to do with the rebellion. And if it has to do with the rebellion… Is it possible that Peeta intends to save both Haymitch and Katniss? But how? How are they going to rescue them?  

“I don’t think I have a choice.” Effie says slowly.

“The less you know, the better it is.” Peeta whispers. “Do you understand?”

The answer is so obvious she feels stupid for not seeing it before: they will try to rescue them directly in the arena. This is utterly impossible. “I think I do.”  

“Good.” the boy sighs. “Then, all we have to do is keeping them alive.”

°¤°¤°¤°

Haymitch startles awake to the echoes of toiling bells and is about to mumble to Effie to send them all to hell, when Finnick’s voice makes the comforting illusion that he’s back in her bed vanish. “I counted twelve.”

Finnick. The arena. The force field. And something about an excruciating pain in his chest…

“Mean anything, do you think?” Katniss asks, from somewhere above him.

Above him? It occurs to him, then, that his head is cushioned on something soft that can, in no way, be a pillow – they never give you pillows in the arena. There’s fingers petting his hair absent-mindedly and an arm casually thrown on his chest.

“Why are you cuddling up to me, girl?” Haymitch growls. “Do I look like the cuddly type to you?”

The surprised yelps are disturbing given that he entrusted his safety to them while he was sleeping – he must have fallen asleep. He doesn’t remember much past the point when they decided to make camp.

“Haymitch?” Katniss sounds disbelieving and relieved all at the same time. “How are you feeling?”

He tries to sit up because, really, he’s not a giant teddy bear she can hug on a whim but when he pushes on his arm, it gives under him and he ends up right where he started, slumped upon Katniss’ legs, hurting all over.

“Did you let a train run over my body, Katniss?” he asks. He wouldn’t put it past her. It feels like he got run over.

“He’s complaining so he must be fine.” Finnick jokes before bringing a bowl of water. “Here, drink some.”

He reluctantly lets Katniss and Finnick help him sit up and swallow a few mouthful of water. “Say, when have we found water again?” The last few hours are blank in his mind. He vaguely remembers Katniss humming and calling out for… “Katniss, did I… Do they know about…”

He doesn’t need to explain further, regret is all over her face already. “I’m sorry. You mistook me for her, you said her name several times… You were dying, Haymitch, there’s no way they didn’t show that. Everybody must know by now.”

“Dying…” he repeats. It rings a bell. Dying. He thinks he remembers something like that.

“You have some generous sponsors rallying behind District 12.” Finnick comments offering him some nuts. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen something so expensive.”

An impressive lightning bolt strikes a towering tree in the distance giving way to a lightning storm of some sort. Between them, Katniss and Finnick agree to switch guard duty so that Finnick can get some sleep. Mags pats Haymitch’s shoulder, clearly glad to see him live another day, before going back to the hut.

“Do you want me to help you get there?” Katniss suggests “It will be more comfortable…”

How long has she been freezing her ass off on the hard ground for his sake? Well… Freezing may not be the right word. The air is damp with humidity.

“No, thanks.” Bracing against the pain, he manages to drag himself to the hut and sink unto the weaved mat. Katniss escorts him, hands held out to prevent an eventual fall. “You don’t need to hover like a mother hen, girl.”

She purses her lips in a hard line that can only mean annoyance. “Try not to die on me again, would you? It’s been twice today, I could do without a third.”

She turns around abruptly and begins to stalk the camp perimeter, bow at the ready. He carefully lies down besides Mags and Finnick. He feels exhausted but doesn’t really manage to go back to sleep, he drifts off mostly until the sound of the cannon releases him of his slumber. He sits up, still aching all over, and catches Katniss’ eyes across the campsite.

She tenses up without warning and he’s on his feet without even thinking about it, knife in hand, sure she has identified a danger.

“Wake up!” she shouts, just as an unnatural fog reaches them. “Run!”

It takes only seconds for Haymitch’s skin to start blistering. Finnick tosses Mags on his back and dashes through the jungle, trying to outrun the fog.

“Haymitch, come on!” Katniss screams, waiting for him further down.

Running, he doesn’t think his body can do that when the smallest of movement is torture. Of course his survival instinct has something to say to that and it’s shut up. The fog claws at his skin and he’s off because between two kinds of pain, he will take the natural to the chemical one any day.

He’s slow though and he keeps stumbling on roots and rocks. He doesn’t see the others anymore and he doesn’t dare turn his head to see where the fog is because he can feel its bite around his ankles. And just when he thinks it’s over and the fog is going to take him over, Katniss dashes between two trees, grabs his arm, all wide eyes, and propels him forward. He tries to push her away, to tell her she’s a fool to come back for him, but his words are lost to her unending verbal abuse and threats. She would die for him, he realizes then, just like he’s prepared to die for her. He should have known but he didn’t and he feels like an idiot because of course she would. They’re survivors but they’re also family. And neither she nor he would ever turn their back on their family.

Finnick’s voice guides them through the trees but the fog is still racing them and it’s winning.

“Go.” Haymitch pleads, panting. “Go, Katniss.”

He can feel his right side twitching where the fog is thicker and Katniss doesn’t seem to fare much better. Too focused on making him move faster, she trips on a root and falls right in a pool of those mist tendrils. He tries to help her up but he’s barely able to stand, never mind haul her to her feet. Finnick is there, all of a sudden, having doubled back when they didn’t catch up and he grabs her arm but she’s twitching all over now and she doesn’t take two steps before falling again.

“Take her!” Finnick shouts at him, eyeing the body of the fog with dread. “Come on!”

Haymitch tries. He really does. He grabs her under the arms but her legs aren’t working so he throws her over his shoulder with a pained cry and for a while, he thinks they’re good. He’s slower than Finnick but they manage to keep several yards between them and the compact mist. His skin burns, he feels dizzy but he carries on. Until his left leg collapses under him and sends them both rolling on the ground.

He struggles to get up, crawls on all four and uses the vines dangling from a tree to stand up. Finnick is already near Katniss.

“Take them both.” Haymitch shouts. “I will catch up.”

Finnick shakes his head, eyes shining in the moonlight. “My arms aren’t working. Take her, Haymitch. Take her.”

He staggers forwards, manages to reach Katniss who’s trying to get up despite the tremors twisting her body and tries to haul her up again. She tries to help by clutching him but it doesn’t work. His muscles are too tired, his nerves too damaged and they end up right back on the jungle ground after only a few steps.

“I’m sorry.” Finnick says softly, behind him.

Haymitch lifts his head, ready to tell him he’s done more than his part and he shouldn’t feel guilty for running away now, when he sees Mags kissing him soundly on the mouth and heading straight into the fog. She collapses immediately and trashes on the ground. The cannon booms out a few seconds after.

Finnick doesn’t look back. He manages to throw Katniss on his back and dashes off through the jungle, leaving Haymitch to follow, in a daze, stumbling from tree to tree. He can’t process what just happened because it makes absolutely no sense. No tribute ever sacrificed himself for another tribute. It’s unheard off. Except if the plan is to get Katniss out of the arena, give the mockingjay to the rebels… Save Katniss at all costs.

How long do they run this deadly race? At some point, Finnick just collapses, Katniss rolling off him in a heap and Haymitch just stops running and falls down beside her because there’s no point going on without her. Save Katniss. He has to save Katniss, he promised Peeta.

She crooks something that must mean that the fog stopped because a few minutes pass and they’re still breathing. Hurting but breathing. They all crawl further away to the sandy beach surrounding the Cornucopia. Water laps at Haymitch’s hand and it hurts so much, a seething burning sensation that leaves him panting all over again.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Katniss rolling into the water and he thinks she has gone completely off her rocker before catching sight of the milky substance that seems to be absorbed by the water. Of course, it has to be painful, of course. Bracing himself against the pain he crawls to the salt-water and cleans his wounds. It’s agony and then bliss because the pain gradually disappears and his body stops twitching unexpectedly.

He recovers first and concludes whatever device they used to heal him earlier must still be at work because Katniss is still splashing the poison away when he goes to help Finnick who seems happy to lie face-first against the sand. He’s not strong enough to drag him into the water yet. Katniss brings shells full of water while he’s still considering the problem and begins to soak Finnick’s arms. They’re badly burned but they are all in a right state. After a few minutes of working together, they manage to bring him closer to the water-line and clean his wound.

The longer they’re in the water the better it is. After a while, Haymitch feels mostly normal again.

“I’m going to try to tap a tree.” Katniss says when they’re sure Finnick has recovered.

Haymitch lets her go, first because he knows how ill-at-ease she’s with wounded people and then because he has a few questions for Finnick. He keeps an eye on the girl while Finnick splashes around like some kind of sea-animal, she has found a tree about ten yards from the beach and she has her bow in her hand, ready to use. Good.

“I’m sorry about Mags” he says, quietly.

Finnick stops diving to float lazily on his back near him. The boy doesn’t try to hide the devastated look on his face. “It’s my fault she was here in the first place.”        

“No, it’s not.” Haymitch closes his eyes, happy to let the water soothe the aches away. “None of us should be here.”

“We’re getting out of this.” Finnick asserts softly, so softly Haymitch thinks he imagined it for a second.

“I’m all aboard that plan.” he snorts. “We should check on Katniss. I don’t want her alone out there.”

“And you were the one calling her a mother hen…” Finnick teases but he waddles to the beach and Haymitch does the same. They grab the weapons they have discarded before going in the water and head toward Katniss.

They’re just on the edge on the jungle when they see Katniss move closer swiftly and steadily, an arrow ready to fly. She slowly signals them to stay where they are and not to say another word. Haymitch catches the first glimpse of the monkeys at the same time Finnick does, but it’s alright, he figures, Katniss is good at hunting, she knows how to move soundlessly.

She’s not far from them when a shrub quivers on their right and they all seem to hold their breath. Haymitch takes out his knives slowly while Katniss steps steadily forward again.

Everything would have been fine, he thinks, if District 6 hadn’t chosen that moment to turn up, wildly running, arms flying behind her. She freezes when she sees them and Haymitch wonders, for a heartbeat, how she’s handling morphine’s withdrawal – alcohol has been far from his thoughts since he stepped in the arena – time seems to stop for a second and then…

All hell breaks loose.

Chapter Text

Effie fell asleep on the couch despite her best efforts not long after Caesar explained what the clock design of the arena holds in store for the night. She wakes up with a start to the sound of a cannon and blinks a few times, trying to make sense of what’s happening on the screen. The volume is so low it’s practically on mute and Peeta is nowhere to be seen. She looks madly around for the remote when she catches sight of Katniss shooting arrow after arrow at monkeys.

“… and good luck with that!” laughs Arcturus – not Caesar, it must be very late. “Seeing them fight like that, you would think they have never gone through the fog! Amazing, really.”

Fog? What fog? What did she miss?

“Ouch, that must hurt.” Arcturus says, when a monkey jumps on Katniss from behind and violently bites her neck.

Where were the others? For whom did the canon boomed?

“Guys, I’m out of arrows!” Katniss warns, dodging another monkey and stabbing another with her knife.

“Move your ass over here!” Haymitch’s voice shouts, off screen. “We have to get to the beach!”

She lets out a deep breath at the sound of his voice. Alive. She feels relieved until the camera pans out enough to show the whole scene. Finnick is using his trident to stab as well as to push the monkeys away and Haymitch… She has never seen Haymitch fight before. Not really, at least. In all those years working with him, she has seen him in enough drunken brawls and fist fights but this… This is totally different. He has a knife in each hand and strikes without a second glance, his movements are accurate and calculated and, for the first time in a long time, she sees the victor in him. Somehow, in the last years, he has just become Haymitch, to her, her friend and colleague. But no one wins the Games by chance.

The three tributes are forming a triangle at the center of the fray, now. They fight back to back.

Where’s Mags? What happened while she was asleep?

“Ah… The hour is up it seems.” Arcturus says, as the monkeys start to retreat.

“What’s going on?” Finnick seems exhausted.

“Never look a gift horse in the mouth.” Haymitch says, grabbing Katniss’ arm. “Or gift monkey, in this case, I suppose.”

“I will gather your arrows.” Finnick says, when Katniss makes a move to do it. “Go take a nap. I will stand watch.”

“Let’s go see what’s happening in the next quarter.” Arcturus says and the scenery changes to show Chaff.

She tentatively wanders to Peeta’s bedroom but he’s not there. She dithers a little but decides to take a quick shower, in the end, feeling the need to wash away the stress and dread from the last few days. It’s probably the shortest shower she ever took but she doesn’t linger under the warm water, afraid of what could happen in her absence. She dresses all in pink because the color cheers her up and she needs a little positivity before going back to the living-room, her golden wig in one hand a hairbrush in another.

She diligently brushesher hair while the careers face their own troubles in their quarter of the clock. It feels as if the night will never end. Nothing new happens and Arcturus is struggling to keep the program interesting to watch for the numerous night viewers. There are some interviews, some clips from the day, several portraits of the tributes still alive… At some point, Effie drops the wig she never had the energy to put on and lies back on the couch. She dozes a little, alarmed every time Arcturus switches back to live footage from the arena, but it’s never about them. She doesn’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing. It’s worse, in a way, not knowing what’s happening to them.

Dawn sidles in lazily through the bay windows and becomes morning, Effie is still stretched on the couch, her head pillowed against a cushion. She’s so tired but she feels guilty to be this exhausted when Katniss and Haymitch are going through worse things than she does. Caesar takes Arcturus’ place and does a thorough review of what happened during the night. She finally sees how Mags died and she can’t believe she has been sound asleep while Haymitch and Katniss nearly died again.

When Peeta finally comes in, around ten, he does a double tack at finding her wigless and sprawled out on the couch without none of the decorum she always insists on.

“Are you okay?” he immediately worries. “Nothing happened, did it?”

“No, no…” she says, face flaming. She straightens up and hastily puts her wig on, ashamed at having been caught so obviously moping. “Where were you?”

The boy looks as if he hasn’t slept in days, which is probably true.

“I had some things to do” he eludes. “They should receive something to treat their wounds with, soon.”

“How did you manage that?” she frowns, clipping her wig in place.

“Through District Four mentor.” Peeta sighs, before collapsing next to her. “God, I’m tired…”

“You should sleep” she suggests. “I will wake you if anything happens.”

He nods and closes his eyes but gives no indication that he intends to move to his bedroom. She turns the volume down a little and watches Caesar explain that Johanna and District 3 tributes are making their way towards the beach where Haymitch, Katniss and Finnick are still sleeping. They show Finnick and Katniss receiving a silver parachute and rubbing their wounds with the balm it contains. The camera focuses on District 5 female tribute when Finnick and Katniss begin to laugh together like two friends – there shouldn’t be friends in the arena. They briefly focus back on them when they receive another parachute – and how exactly Peeta manage to do that? – and find rolls of bread from District 4. Finnick eyes the bread rather thoughtfully and Haymitch watches Finnick like a hawk, but then, the camera focuses back on District 5 female tribute’s doomed walk in the next active quarter.

When the gigantic wave crashes on her Effie averts her eyes. She’s sick of all those deaths. She can’t even phantom what she once found pleasurable about them.

“Peeta” she says, rousing him from his slumber when Caesar’s voice exclaims joyfully that another fight might arise. Nobody really understood why Johanna and Blight allied themselves with Beetee and Wiress but it won’t help her fight Finnick, Katniss and Haymitch now that Blight is dead, that’s for sure.

“Johanna!” Finnick cries out before taking off in direction of the odd trio.

The two tributes run to each other and Finnick is so obviously happy to see her that he hauls her from the ground and hugs her tightly. Haymitch and Katniss catch up with them a few second later and it’s hard to say who launch themselves at whom but Effie can’t help feeling a pinch of displeasure at the way Haymitch and Johanna embrace each other. They all laugh a little, clearly relieved, and then sober up as they learn what happened to the others. Johanna and District 3 tributes are still covered in blood from the rain.

It doesn’t take long for Katniss and Johanna to start bickering.

“She can’t help it.” Peeta mutters unhappily. “She has to provoke her.”

“I don’t like Johanna Mason much.” Effie states. “This woman seriously lacks manners.”

“I was talking about Katniss…” Peeta chuckles. “Haymitch says most women don’t get on with Johanna.”

“I wonder why” she scorns a little.

The camera goes back and forth between the group on the beach, Chaff who’s still hiking in search of water and the careers with their own lot of problems facing recalcitrant vegetations. By the time they go back to their tributes, Haymitch and Katniss have treated out Beetee’s wounds and they’re all more or less clean of blood. Effie goes to the kitchen to ask for sandwiches and when she comes back, Katniss is explaining to Johanna how Mags died while the others, minus Haymitch who’s attentively listening to their discussion, sleep. She’s not sure she likes the look Haymitch and Johanna exchange at that point.

“How is he?” Johanna asks him and Haymitch only shrugs.

“So, what were you doing with Nuts and Volts?” Katniss asks after a while.

“Oh, that won’t go well…” Peeta predicts, wolfing down his sandwich. Effie paces herself a little more but she’s starving and her food is gone in a matter of minutes.

“I told you – I got them for you.” Johanna says. “Your lover boy said if we were to be allies I had to bring them to you. That’s what you told him, right?”

The look that passes between Haymitch and Katniss is not lost on Effie. “That’s a lot of allies, Peeta. Too much is not a good thing. ”

“The more, the merrier.” Peeta smiles at her reassuringly.

When Wiress comes to sit beside them, Johanna declares herself fed up with the whole “tick-tock” thing – which absolutely delights Caesar who points out the irony – and goes to lie near Finnick to get some sleep.

“What is Peeta playing at?” Katniss hisses at Haymitch.

“Stay put, darling.” Haymitch replies. “I think we will find out soon enough.”

“Haymitch knows something.” Effie deduces. “Peeta, really…”

“Haymitch doesn’t know anything because there isn’t anything to know.” Peeta cuts in.

Effie concedes the point and takes up the phone when it starts ringing, answering the reporter’s questions distractedly while, on screen, Katniss and Haymitch unravel the mystery of the arena with Wiress’ help. They all decide to head back to the cornucopia to resupply. That’s when Caesar points out that the careers aren’t far behind. Johanna finds herself axes, Katniss grabs more arrows, Finnick grabs every trident he can find and Haymitch straps more knives to his thighs, forearms and hips with leather sheathes. Then, they gather around Beetee on the ground near the mouth of the Cornucopia and begin to map out the arena. The camera is focusing on them so Effie and Peeta are startled when, all of sudden, Katniss loads an arrow and turns around.

That’s when Caesar’s voice mischievously shouts a “surprise!” and an image of Gloss letting go of Wiress, whose throat has been sliced open, appear on screen.

That’s also the moment when Effie hangs up on the reporter because Cashmere is sneaking up slowly behind Haymitch, a knife in her hand.

°¤°¤°¤°

“Duck!” Johanna shouts and Haymitch doesn’t even think about it before he does. He rolls on the ground, stands up, knives in hands, to see Cashmere fall, an axe in her chest, and Finnick diverting Brutus’ spear with his trident, which leaves…

He throws himself at Enobaria with a war cry, swinging down his knife and slicing away a good portion of skin off her shoulder. He blocks her blow with his left arm and strikes again with his right and it’s easy. So, so very easy it makes him falter for a second, his mind flashing back to nightmares and sleepless nights spent drowning his guilt in alcohol… His moment of distraction is enough for her to dive into the water and run away.

“We have to go after them.” Johanna decides, just as three cannon-shots thunder in the distance.

“Not a good-time for second thoughts, Haymitch.” Finnick says softly, patting his shoulder. “Kill now, regret later.”

He nods just as Katniss and Johanna are about to fling themselves after Brutus and Enobaria. Their feet haven’t even left the little island surrounding the Cornucopia when the land starts spinning. They stumble and fall and there’s nothing to do but to hold on until the earth stops spinning. Haymitch sees Volts slides towards the water, he tries to reach out to him but he’s too slow and the man is thrown into the miniature-sea.

When it finally stops, they’re left coughing sand and water. Finnick dives up to retrieve Beetee while Katniss, after shouting at them to cover her, swims to Wiress’ body and comes back with the wire. It’s impossible to guess which quarter of the arena corresponds to what, now, so they decide to go back to the beach in search of water, hoping for the best.

Finnick and Katniss wander in the jungle to tap a tree while Johanna and Beetee try to recreate the map. Haymitch hovers between the two groups, unwilling to let Katniss out of his sight again but unable to refrain his sarcastic comments to Johanna’s poor attempts at drawing either. If Peeta were there…

The scream gets him moving even before he registers that the voice doesn’t belong to Katniss. He runs, leaving a dumbfounded Finnick behind, following the girl’s cries for her sister. Prim. But Prim can’t be there, she can’t… They have never ever put someone who wasn’t a tribute in the arena before. Never. They couldn’t, could they? Couldn’t they? Was there something they actually couldn’t do?

When he finally finds Katniss, Finnick just behind him, she’s looking at the dead body of a bird – and he carefully tries not to think of the last birds he encountered in his arena – a jabberjay.

“It’s not real.” Haymitch says immediately.

“I know.” Katniss replies, panting a little. “I thought… But it’s okay. I’m okay.”

But the terrified look she sends his way is everything but okay.

The next shriek sends his blood curling and he grabs Finnick before he can bolt away. Katniss clutches his other arm and together they force him to stay put while he screams himself hoarse for Annie.

“It’s not her.” Haymitch repeats again and again. “It’s not real. Finnick, she’s…”

“It’s her voice!” he roars, pulling himself free. “What did they do to her, Haymitch? What did they…” His voice breaks and Katniss becomes as white as a sheet.

He wants to tell them Prim and Annie are safe but the truth is he doesn’t know and he wouldn’t put it past the Gamemakers to torture them just for the amusement of the Capitol. “Let’s go back to the others.” He practically has to drag them back because they keep getting distracted by the birds. Other voices join the cacophony, all calling out for help. By the time they catch sight of Johanna and Volts… Johanna is speaking, he can see her lips moving but he doesn’t understand anything she says. He can’t hear her. He reacts soon enough to spare Katniss a painful collision with the invisible wall but Finnick bumps into it face-first and ends up with a bloody-nose.

That’s when the birds begin to arrive, a large flock of them, perched above their head, and they start screaming and crying out and calling out to them… Finnick curls up on himself, hands on his ears, chanting Annie’s name again and again like a talisman. Katniss shoots arrow after arrow at them, but it’s no use. For every bird she kills another takes its place. Peeta’s voice calls out to them both, distorted by the pain, accusing them of having left him behind… Katniss gives up at that point and curls up against Finnick.

Haymitch doesn’t.

He glares at the birds, damned if he will be defeated by some mutation. He can’t stand birds since his Games. The sight always reminds him of Maysilee and her throat ripped open. He had liked Maysilee and, even back then, he didn’t like many people. He wills himself to remain unmoved when Peeta’s pleas gradually shift from addressing them both to targeting him specifically. Peeta screams and calls for help and accuses him of favoring Katniss and then… When it doesn’t seem to affect him…

Oh, he really should have seen that one coming, but she’s supposed to be safe. She’s from the Capitol not from the districts. She’s supposed to be safe. She’s supposed to be safe.

First, there’s a weeping noise and then just a whisper of his name that gets louder and louder until it becomes a scream of pain and terror and he can’t… He can’t…

He slides against the invisible wall and ends up sitting next to Katniss who’s rocking back and forth now, in an attempts to block out the voices. Help, Effie begs, Help me, Haymitch! Help, please, please, make it stop… He claws at the damp earth, buries his fingers in the dirt and bows his head and closes his eyes but it’s no use, it’s no use… It’s your fault! Help me! Help me, you coward, help me! She screams and screams in pain and it’s all he can do not to dash through the jungle in a mindless pursuit. She’s not there. She’s not there.

But the jabberjay is right. It is his fault if she’s not safe. He should never have… He shouldn’t have… He gave them the weapons to hurt him and, by doing so, he sentenced her to die too. That’s all he has ever been good at : getting people killed.

Chapter Text

Effie tries to comfort Peeta the best she can but, really, there’s not much to say about what’s happening on screen. The jabberjays are using his voice to hurt Katniss after all, what can she say to help him go through that? The boy is motionless, his bowed head is clasped tight in his hands, and his skin is white with anger and frustration. He can’t watch that, he says. Effie can’t look away.

Is it because she’s from the Capitol and Peeta comes from one of Panem’s District that their reaction is so different? Each time something bad happens, Peeta averts his eyes but she, on the other hand, needs to see.

And those Games are, by far, the worst she has ever watched. There’s nothing entertaining or exciting in watching her friends – or at least, people she personally knows and respects – being slaughtered one after the other. There’s nothing entertaining or exciting in watching Finnick Odair calling again and again for Annie Cresta nor in seeing Katniss curled up on the ground in despair. There’s nothing entertaining nor exciting in Haymitch’s calm defiance.

He won’t back down in front of mere birds, she knows, he has too much pride for that. Unfortunately, his refusal to bow to the jabberjays is clearly annoying the Gamemakers as Caesar promptly informs them : time to spice up the game a little.

She really should have seen that one coming. They have, after all, explained in details how they obtained the voices through different interview footages. She has given her share of interviews over the years in the name of District 12 and there are all the reapings too…

Still, she’s not prepared to hear her own voice in that jungle, lost in the sea of screams from Prim, Annie, Katniss’ mother, Peeta’s and Gale Hawthorne’s… Haymitch’s reaction is immediate. His head shots up, searching the birds for the specific one and then… Her voice says horrible, terrible things and he collapses next to Katniss, his face closes and…

“They can’t!” she exclaims. “They can’t! They have no rights!”

It’s her voice. Hers. They can’t steal her voice to hurt the man she loves, it’s…

“They’re the Capitol.” Peeta chuckles darkly. “They have every rights.”

“It’s barbaric!” she shrieks, moving closer to the screen. Close enough to touch. There’s a close-up on Haymitch’s face, she brushes his cheeks lightly with her fingers. She hopes that, somehow, he will sense it, sense her, but if he does he doesn’t show it.

“This is nothing compared to what they’ve done.” Peeta points out. “At least, the bird aren’t trying to kill them.”

She bites her lip to prevent herself from answering. She doesn’t care what Peeta says, of course, worse things have been done, but right at this moment, she couldn’t remember them. All she sees, all she hears, is her voice – a voice she doesn’t control – hurting Haymitch. And she can’t do anything to put an end to this.

But when she sees him shudder after her voice accused him of having killed her… She pledges that the Capitol will pay for each of the tears she’s shedding. She won’t know peace until they do.

°¤°¤°¤°

“I’m sure your Capitol princess is fine, stop worrying.” Johanna says, awkwardly patting his shoulder. “Though, I never thought you would end up with one of those peacock. How did that happen again?”

Haymitch shrugs, because he doesn’t really know. At some point, Effie stopped being an annoying escort and became his friend. And then, he started to see the pearl under the coal. There is the exuberant irritating Capitol Effie and underneath there is just Effie – clever, brave, loving Effie.

“Come on, are you angry because I called her a peacock?” Johanna laughs bitterly. “I saw how Trinket dresses, you can’t say she’s not ridiculous.”

They’re laying on the sand, waiting for Finnick to catch their dinner while Katniss cleans every fish he hands her, Volts is playing with his wire. Haymitch would like to believe he feels better but the truth is, he doesn’t. It took Johanna and Beetee time and patience to bring them back from the jabberjays. Volts promised tampering with voices is easy and Johanna argues that they wouldn’t be stupid enough to hurt someone in front of all Panem, not like that at least. She’s right of course, she must be. But it doesn’t help any of them to relax. Finnick is convinced they’ve got Annie – she was still in District 4, after all, easy to kidnap without anyone being the wiser – Katniss won’t be at peace until she sees her family in one piece and Haymitch… Haymitch can’t stop blaming himself because he has always known everyone he loves eventually ends up murdered and he walked right into that trap.

“She dresses like a peacock” he agrees, at last. “But she could surprise you.”

“Can she throw an axe?” Johanna jokes. “Because that would surprise me.” Haymitch snorts at the ridiculous image of Effie trying to use an axe but otherwise remains silent. Some time passes before Johanna speaks again and it’s soft when she does. “Would I really be surprised if I knew the whole story?”

She hates being in this arena as much as he does but she has no one outside waiting for her. It’s sad how lonely victors are. It’s sadder that those of them who aren’t that lonely are more terrified than the others because they have something to lose.

“It’s a stupid story.” Haymitch sighs. “Everyone would be surprised by how stupid…”

Because switching names at a reaping? It’s not just stupid, it’s plain foolish. He can’t believe she got away with it. The luck of this woman…

“You will have to tell it to me, then, one day.” Johanna declares. “I hate being proven wrong but it doesn’t happen often enough, I will make an exception for you.”

“One day.” he says, feeling foolish because they can count the days they have left on a single hand.

°¤°¤°¤°

Effie’s yawning like crazy but she refuses to go to sleep despite Peeta’s regular assurance that he would fetch her if anything were to happen. The large group of tributes made camp on the beach, they received bread from District 3 and Haymitch volunteered to take first watch. The others all went to sleep but Katniss stayed up with him, obviously still shaken by the jabberjays incident.

It’s late enough that nothing much happens inside or outside the arena so they just show what’s going on without commenting – a respite from Caesar’s voice for which Effie is grateful. Peeta is restless again, taking call after call on his mysterious phone. Katniss and Haymitch are sitting side by side on the sand, she’s facing the sea and he’s facing the jungle. They’re speaking so softly Effie has to listen carefully to hear them over the noise of Peeta’s ushered but constant conversation.

“What was that song you hummed yesterday?” Haymitch asks suddenly. “I can’t place it.”

“Didn’t know you care for music.” Katniss teases.  

“I don’t. It’s stuck inside my head.”

The girl chuckles and hums a little, the same tune she did when she held Haymitch as he laid dying in her arms. “The Hanging Tree. My father taught it to me. It’s the only thing I would sing after…” Her voice trails off and she shrugs. “It seemed fitting.”

There’s a long silence and then Haymitch sighs. “He taught you well. Your father.”

“He was a good man.” Katniss says, a little defensively. Or protectively maybe. “Sometimes… Sometimes, I’m actually relieved he’s not here to see what I’ve become.”

Peeta’s pained sigh from behind the couch alerts Effie that his conversation is over. He wandered back towards her and the sadness on his face when he looks at Katniss hurts her.

“He would be proud.” Haymitch states, without a slice of doubt in his voice. “As I am.”

Effie’s heart is ready to burst with love for this people. Haymitch who is too embarrassed to look the girl in the eye, Katniss who’s tearing up a little but trying to hide it and Peeta who’s so desperately in love… They seem closer to her, somehow, that her own family. Nobody, in her family, care like they do for each others.

“Effie, I have to go for a while.” Peeta says.

“I should go with you.” She hasn’t done much for Haymitch and Katniss, yet. Usually, she spends most of the Games outside, trying to incite sponsors to root for them and expanding their contacts, but this year, she’s mostly spent her time on the phone or glued to the screen.

“No, you stay here and…”

“How do you know you love her?” Katniss asks, out of the blue. It makes Peeta shut up abruptly. “You do love her, right? You can’t play with someone like Effie, Haymitch, she’s not like us… She’s… fragile.”

Effie blushes. “I am not.”

Peeta snorts but wisely holds his tongue.

“Are you an expert in relationships, now, girl?” Haymitch mocks her. “Let me worry about Effie, I’m doing a dreadful amount of it right now anyway.”

Worry? About her? He should be worrying about himself! She can take care of herself, how many times must she tell him that?

“Sorry.” Katniss relents. “I’m worried too.”

“Yes?” There’s something mocking in Haymitch’s voice, but it’s not unkind. “For whom?”

“Prim, of course. And the others.” Katniss is drawing absent-mindedly in the sand with the point of an arrow. “Effie too. She’s not the most easy person but she’s nice in her own way. I don’t want her to be…”

“Well, it’s nice to feel loved” she grumbles.

“I like you, if it makes you feel better.” Peeta smiles. “I’m sure Katniss will love you a lot more when she learns how you threatened to kill everyone with a knife.”

“I think the real question you’re not asking here, darling, is : who do you miss most?” Haymitch says. “If you could see anyone, right now, who would you choose? Who do you need?”

She hears Peeta hold his breath and she does too, a little, because…

“I don’t need anyone.” Katniss objects, but she’s playing with the locket Effie gave Peeta. “I never did.”

“Yeah, I thought that too, once.” There’s something bitter in Haymitch’s voice she doesn’t like at all. “And yet, I still… She was special for a long time but I never said anything. I lost years being stupid. Don’t do the same mistake.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Katniss says. “It’s too late now.”

“For us, maybe. Not for him.” Haymitch points out.

“What do you want me to do?” The girl snorts. “Climb on the top of the cornucopia and shout out that I love him?”

“Well, it would certainly make an impression…” Haymitch laughs. “You probably could get away with it. He is your husband, after all, isn’t he?”

Peeta breathes out abruptly as if he wasn’t sure they were actually talking about him until then.

“He… soothes me.” Katniss confesses. “I need that.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard. You should sleep now, I have a feeling it will all end tomorrow.” Haymitch’s eyes wander to the victors sleeping next to them.

“There’s only eight of us left.” Katniss lowers her voice. “We should take off now.”

“No, we shouldn’t, darling. Let’s see what the tide brings.” Haymitch pushes her a little with his elbow. “Sleep, now.”

Katniss rolls her eyes but instead of laying down with the others, she leans against his shoulder, clutching the locket in her hand. “Is it absolutely selfish to wish Peeta was here instead of you?”

“It is. But we’re selfish people, you and I.” Haymitch jokes. “Under the circumstances, I will try not to be offended.”

Effie clears her throat to keep from crying again but Peeta doesn’t seem to mind the tears shining in his eye.

“I’m coming.” he whispers, watching Katniss sleeping form. “I’m coming for you.”

°¤°¤°¤°

Munching on District 3 rolls of bread they have just received, Haymitch sits down next to Finnick who’s weaving vines.

“Good, is it?” he asks, nodding to the bread in his hand.

Finnick frowns and shrugs. “It’s bread.”

“Yeah? And here I thought you were so fascinated by it…”

Finnick’s warning look is enough motives for him to drop the subject. But he smiles as he walks away. He knows he’s right. Whatever happens, it will happen soon.

Chapter Text

“Effie!” Peeta calls her and she shots out of her bedroom, in a panic. She has just gone to her bedroom for a change of clothes, she can’t have been gone longer than ten minutes. When did Peeta come back? He was gone all night.

“What happened?” she asks, as soon as she reaches the living-room, nearly colliding with the Avox girl on the way.

“They’re planning to electrify the beach.” Peeta explains, gesturing to the screen where a true war council is taking place. “And we are going out.”

“Now? But…”

“You wanted to help with the sponsors.” Peeta reminds her. “I need you to come with me.”

There’s an urgency in his voice that convinces her to comply with his request, no question asked. “Alright. Let me just put some make-up on and, maybe another dress…” She can’t meet sponsors looking like she spent the last three days alternatively crying and raging like a mad woman…

“Your dress is fine.” Peeta objects. “We… have an appointment. I can give you five minutes but not much more, sorry.”

Something is definitely odd but she does as he asks and applies her make-up as quickly as she can. It’s not as fanciful as she would like but it will have to do. He’s waiting for her by the elevator doors and he doesn’t say a word all the ride down. When she heads towards the lounge reserved for sponsors, he stops her with a hand on her arm and draws her towards the compound exit instead.

Mentors and escorts are, of course, allowed out in the streets of the Capitol but… it is unusual to do so during the Games. Most sponsors come to the Center to watch and be courted…

“Miss Trinket!” the old peacekeeper at the exit booth exclaims when he spots her. Peeta tenses but Effie only smiles and waves at him. He has been at this post as long as she can remember. “I was sorry to hear about you and Abernathy. Damn shame those Games, this year, if you ask me.”

“Yes…” she says, signing the exit forms. “Yes, it is.”

“Thank you.” Peeta adds.

And they’re off in the busy streets of the Capitol. Peeta seems a bit lost but when she asks where he wants to go precisely, he waves her off and leads her two streets down the main avenue towards a back alley.

“Those streets can be dangerous, Peeta.” she warns him. “If you tell me where you want to go, I could…” she doesn’t finish her sentence. There is an expensive black car at the end of the narrow lane, the woman leaning against it – she doesn’t come from the Capitol, her hair is loose on her shoulders, she isn’t wear any make-up and she has a strong accent – doesn’t seem too pleased to see them.

“Plutarch won’t like that” she says, but she gets in before either of them can answer.

“Peeta?” Effie is confused. She probably shouldn’t. It’s probably all part of this plan she’s not allowed to know anything about, but… “What are we…”

“Effie.” Peeta stops her, deadly serious. “This is the moment when I ask if you’re prepared to leave everything behind for Haymitch. Think carefully. If you do, get in. If you don’t, you should get in anyway because it’s going to get dangerous for you really fast and I’m not leaving you behind, but I guess we can figure something out on the way.”

It doesn’t register for a second but then… She’s really offended. “I told you I… How can you even…” She’s so angry she can’t even properly scold him so she gets in and slams the door shut, hoping it will convey the right impression.

The woman doesn’t acknowledge her but she drives away as soon as Peeta is in the car.

“Sorry.” Peeta sounds sheepish. “I didn’t mean to… Look, I know you love him but… You’re still Capitol and… I’m not sure you’re totally aware of what we’re doing right now.”

“I tricked the reaping.” She shouldn’t admit to that in front of a stranger. She shouldn’t tell Peeta that. “I didn’t pull out your name but Haymitch’s. Don’t tell me what I’m prepared to do or not.”

There’s a flash of resentment on his face and he turns his head away. The woman briefly looks at her in the rearview mirror and Effie glares back, unwilling to be judged by a person she doesn’t even know, but the stranger, if anything, looks amused.

“I would have volunteered.” Peeta says, a few minutes later. His voice is calm but it’s obvious he’s upset. “Did you plan that beforehand? Was it Haymitch’s idea? Or Katniss maybe.”

“It has nothing to do with you and Katniss.” Effie smoothes her dress slowly, needing to keep her hands busy. “I wanted to keep him as far from this arena as I could. Had I knew he was going to volunteer, I would have called out his name.”

The guilt is overwhelming.

“It’s nice to feel loved.” He laughs bitterly, throwing back her own words in her face.

“I love you.” she refutes softly. “I love you and Katniss both. But I love him more. I am truly sorry.”

Peeta sighs and rubs his eyes. She’s not sure he has slept at all since Katniss is in the arena. “I understand, I guess. I’m not sure I forgive you just yet, but I understand.”

“This is all nice and touching, but what are you going to say to Plutarch?” the woman says.

“Let me worry about that, Vira.” Peeta says and that’s the end of that.

The car ride lasts two hours and by the time they have reached the outskirt of the Capitol, Effie is ready to burst with nerves. Peeta doesn’t talk, the woman doesn’t talk and her numerous suggestions to turn the radio on are ignored. Everything could have happened to Haymitch and Katniss and they wouldn’t even know…

Peeta dozes off at some point and she looks through the window, mapping their approximate position in her head and wondering what is happening. She’s not particularly surprised when the car stops in a disused military zone.

“That’s my stop.” the woman says, startling Peeta awake. “Good luck.”

Effie thanks her because she’s polite and gets out of the car. There’s a hovercraft not far from where the woman left them and they head towards it. She can feel Peeta tensing with every step. There are men with guns around the hovercraft, but they’re not peacekeepers. And the hovercraft has nothing in common with the ones she has seen before. This one is clearly designed for combat rather than transportation. She would bet she has found the rebellion.

No one try to stop them as they board the hovercraft, some of them snigger and point at her but that’s it, probably because no one in there wears neither wigs nor fashionable clothes.

“Do you know these people?” Effie can’t help but ask. A few men nod to Peeta when they pass them by in the corridor.

“Not personally. But I’m the Mockingjay’s husband. It counts for something.” Peeta says and leads her to a sort of briefing room where Plutarch Heavensbee is frowning at what a young woman is telling him. He waves her away when he catches sight of them. The driver must have alerted him that Peeta wasn’t alone because he doesn’t look surprised to see Effie.  

“I told you I would send a team to retrieve her.” Plutarch crosses his arms and shakes his head at Peeta. “This isn’t going to be pretty, boy. She would have been safer there until…”

“The moment we attack the arena, she was going to be at risk.” Peeta interrupts. “I wasn’t looking forward to tell Haymitch I left his wife behind.”

Effie startles a little. She called Haymitch her husband before, when she’d asked her father for money, but the term isn’t familiar yet. Wife… She is his wife. She likes that, she thinks.

“Wife?” Plutarch is clearly taken aback. “I wasn’t aware… He never said…” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, you’re here now, Effie, so… Welcome to the rebellion.”

The plan in itself is simple: they’re breaking the victors out of the arena. The hovercraft is buzzing with activity. Peeta and she are charged with surveillance which consists of watching the Games broadcast to make sure everything goes according to plan.

It does.

Until it doesn’t.

“What is she doing?” Effie worries when Johanna jumps on Katniss.

“Taking her tracker out.” Peeta explains. “Finnick should be doing the same with Haymitch.”

Except… Johanna runs after Brutus and Enobaria, Katniss panics, obviously thinking it was all a trick, and staggers madly through the jungle to the lightning tree, calling softly for Haymitch who has dashed through the jungle to find her when a cannon had shot. Caesar is laughing, everybody is looking for someone else, it seems. Finnick searches for Johanna, Johanna is looking for the others, Beetee is out cold…  

And that’s when Katniss finds herself at a showdown, near the tree, Finnick and Enobaria are fighting on the slope below, she prepares an arrow, ready to shoot at Enobaria and then… She freezes, her eyes on Beetee, and…

“How far are we?” Peeta calls out, suddenly.

“A few minutes out, why?” Plutarch asks, coming to see what’s happening on screen. “What is she doing? Tell me she isn’t…”

But, Effie thinks, clutching the edge of the table, she is.

And Katniss does shoot her arrow right into the force field. The image goes black and Caesar stammers, at a loss for words.

“Can we go faster?” Effie asks, knowing there’s no use.

They won’t get there before the Capitol.

°¤°¤°¤°

Haymitch is going to kill that girl, he swears.

“Katniss!” he hisses, knife at the ready. The gash on his left forearm is throbbing in time with his heartbeat, it’s dizzying. If the cannon was for her… “Katniss!”

The lighting strikes the tree and, for a second, the entire arena goes white. Then the invisible dome above them pulses red and he spies several hovercrafts in the distance. The force field is down.

He runs for the tree, hoping to find the others there, rushing between trunks, jumping above roots… He can hear gunshots in the distance and then, the world explodes. It only makes him run faster. The ground shakes, the sky is on fire… He’s maybe two minutes away from the tree when a hovercraft catches him. He struggles, tries to get free but all he manages to do is knock himself on a branch. And the world goes blank.

Chapter Text

Part 5 : Aftermarth

Haymitch wakes up to an insistent pounding on his shoulder. His eyes flutter open to find Katniss anxiously peering at him from above – a disturbing sight, if there ever was one.

“Wake up.” Katniss commands. “We have to get out of here.”

He sits up carefully, taking in their surroundings. They’re in a large room, low ceiling, steel walls… Hovercraft, his mind supplies easily. Katniss is clad in nothing but a thin hospital gown and, after inspection, so is he. They’re alone. Their wounds have been bandaged, he notes. No obvious guard at the door.

“Come on.” she hisses, a syringe clenched in her hand, ready to stab someone.

“Taking on the Capitol with a syringe, really, darling?” he scorns. His voice is rough with disuse.

“Do you see a better weapon?” This girl is too sarcastic for her own good.

“Good point.” He grabs another syringe from the sterile pack next to the bed and nods at her to lead the way.

The door is open which is… weird. They creep up the narrow hallway and Haymitch immediately relaxes when he hears Plutarch’s voice echoing from the next room. He barges in, ignoring Katniss’ hissed warnings. Of course, her concern flies right out the window when she catches sight of Peeta, she shots past Haymitch and throws herself into Peeta’s arms. If this kiss is for the show, he’s a true fan of the Capitol. Forgetting the kids for now, he nods to Finnick who seems absolutely dejected and smirks to Plutarch.

“You could have said something rather than letting me think I was going to my death.” Haymitch reproaches him. “Where are the others?”

“I tried to go back for Johanna, but…” Finnick trails off and sits down, letting his head fall into his hands.

“And we had to choose between you and Beetee.” Plutarch sighs. “We were out of time.”

Suddenly, his cheerfulness vanishes. He may be out of the arena but the games aren’t over yet.

“I’m sorry.” Peeta says, Katniss still in his arms. “I couldn’t tell either of you anything.”

“Right.” Haymitch understands why they couldn’t know but that doesn’t mean he forgives them just yet. Katniss is obviously thinking the same thing if the way she slams her fist into Peeta’s arm is any indication. “Where’s Effie?”

“About Effie…” Plutarch cuts in. “How did you manage to keep that from us?”

He doesn’t care to answer that kind of questions. His private life doesn’t concern the rebellion.

“Where is my wife, boy?” he growls, taking a step towards Peeta.

“Wife?” Katniss mouths to Peeta, eyes wide.

“Oh, this is going to be bad.” Peeta replies, his eyes fixed on a point behind his shoulder. “Let’s get you back to bed, Katniss.”

“Didn’t you hear me? What are you? Deaf? ” Haymitch is quickly losing his temper. “Where is my wife?”

“Your wife is here.” Effie is standing on the threshold and doesn’t look pleased. “We lost contact with District 6, Plutarch.” she says, more peacefully.

It’s anticlimactic in the end. He’s been yearning for her for three days and now that she’s there… She’s not even looking at him. She purposely walks to Plutarch and hands him some reports, Finnick eyes the scene with a flicker of amusement on his face and the kids are whispering fiercely behind him. Peeta is trying hard to convince Katniss that she doesn’t want to be here for what is going to happen next. Haymitch doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Effie’s icy attitude is quickly making him angry. She’s very busy telling Plutarch all about what’s in her pile of papers and when did she become an expert in the rebellion, anyway?

“That’s it?” he scoffs “I almost died three or four times in the past three days and you won’t even say hello? I could be dead.”

“You are absolutely fine, I checked with your doctor.” Effie says, finally looking at him. “I’m crossed with you.”

“Crossed with…” He laughs out loud at that one. Count on Effie to be crossed with him when all he could do for the last few days was worry about her. “Have you any idea…”

“Did you or did you not marry me without asking me first?” Effie points out and… yeah… maybe a toasting wasn’t such a great idea after all. Perhaps, he should have asked first.

“It’s nothing official.” Haymitch grumbles. “No need to make a fuss.”

Behind him, he distinctly hears the words ‘toasting’, ‘luck’ and ‘propose to me’ amidst the string of Peeta whispered explanations to Katniss. He is going to kill that boy for so many reasons…

“Oh, I will make a fuss, as soon as we don’t have an audience anymore, don’t you worry.” Effie promises, deadly serious.

“Damn them all!” He doesn’t care a bit what they think or what they do. He stomps around the table to catch her arm and then, without any consideration for her outraged Haymitch, don’t you dare! , he’s kissing her. And it’s glorious. He barely hears Plutarch clearing his throat or the kids horror-struck noises. All he hears is Effie’s soft sigh against his lips and he rejoices in the way her hand coils around his neck, strong and directive.

“You could at least have told me.” she says between two kisses.

Holding her in his arms feels like a miracle.

“Didn’t see the point.” he replies, distracted by her lips. “I was as good as dead.”

“You didn’t see the point.” It probably wasn’t the cleverest thing to say but…

“Do you have to be this bloody difficult!” he bursts out. “Can’t we just enjoy the moment?”

“Can you enjoy the moment somewhere private?” Peeta cuts in. “You’re making everyone uncomfortable…”

“Boy…” Haymitch starts but Effie struggles out of his arms before he can even finish.

“Oh, dear.” she says. “My apologies. Haymitch, really, we’re in the middle of a rebellion, here.”

“Are we?”

His sarcasms pass right above her head but Plutarch chuckles. “Quite the missus you have find yourself, Haymitch.” Plutarch’s eyes are twinkling when he looks at Effie, which Haymitch doesn’t like one bit. “Threatened to kill me with your knife, once. We’re old friends, now.”

Haymitch rises an eyebrow but Effie, though blushing, is very busy rummaging through the papers. “I bet.”

He sits because both Katniss and Finnick are slumped in a chair and he does feel rather tired. Peeta, Plutarch and Effie are talking about districts, communications and rebels but he’s able to follow only half the conversation. Too much has happened since the reaping.

“Annie’s still in Four.” Finnick says softly. “Communications are down.”

“I’m sorry.” Katniss takes his hand before Haymitch can do anything and Finnick forces a smile on his lips.

“You should all go and get some rest.” Effie’s voice rings out, all of a sudden. “None of you should be out of bed yet.”

He knows this tone and Katniss knows it too. The girl stands up first and they all follow, more or less groggily to the room with the hospital beds. Peeta doesn’t seem to be able to let go of Katniss and Effie stays close to them, fussing over her until the boy whispers something. Haymitch hauls himself on the bed, tired.

“What, are you tucking me in, now?” he scorns when she appears in front of him.

“Lie down.” She’s stern but her wig is a little crooked. He should tell her, he supposes.

“Lie with me” he retorts.

He doesn’t expect her to comply with his wishes. Actually, he’s quite sure she is going to launch herself in a lecture about proper behavior but she’s always surprising him. She sits beside him on the bed and forces him to lie down with a hand on his chest and, then, she snuggles up to him. He wraps his arms around her and it’s perfect.

He purposely doesn’t think of Finnick who’s the only one alone in the room because as much as he feels bad for his friend, he doesn’t want to withdraw from her embrace.

“I missed you.” she breathes out against his neck.

He closes his eyes and presses his cheek against her forehead. It’s surreal, having her there, in his arms. It feels like a dream.

“You certainly found ways to busy yourself with if you threatened everyone with a knife…” He can’t help but snigger a little at the very idea of Effie Trinket handling a knife to do something else than cutting her meat.

“He was being difficult” He can feel disapprobation exuding from her in waves. “I was trying to save you, he was in my way.”

“I pity the man who ever finds himself on your path when you want something.” he smirks.

“Pity whatever finds itself on my path when it leads to you” she corrects him softly. “What happens now?”

“Now…” His voice trails off. Now seems to be an awfully difficult concept to grasp. Now is flying in a hovercraft to District 13 and joining the rebels. Now the hard part of this rebellion begins. Now is a moment that streches from right then to weeks or months in the future. “Now, we stay alive.”

Because, in the end, that’s all they could ever try to do.