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“We got a feed.”
Haymitch’s ears perch up at the sound. Beetee had been working tirelessly for weeks trying to get into at least the security feeds of the Capitol, trying to get at least eyes in the city. Haymitch shakes the fog out of his head, who knew sobriety could make everything hazier, and makes his way over to his fellow Victor.
“Where?” Haymitch’s grey eyes search the feed in front of him for any discernable features.
“Center basement.” Perfect. Exactly where they wanted. The two of them cycle through the feeds of the cells.
Annie sits in the corner, cupping her hands over her ears while rocking back and forth. No real changes there.
“Any sound?” Beetee looks up at Haymitch with concern.
“You sure want to hear what's happening?” Haymitch’s jaw tightens.
“No, but better to know what’s happening than not.” Haymitch watches as Beetee’s fingers fly across the keyboard, and suddenly the small room is filled with screams.
“No! Don’t hurt her!”
“Peeta!” The two men quickly scroll through the feed and see as Peeta gets flung back into his cell. The door quickly closes behind him, but it doesn’t stop the young man from rushing back to his cell door.
“Take me! She doesn’t know anything!” Peeta bangs on the door, begging for mercy. “Please. Please take me.” His pleas fall into quiet sobs.
Haymitch’s stomach drops at the sight of his boy looking so broken and alone. He should be here not having god knows what, happening to him.
They quickly change the screen and see Johanna throwing herself around her cell, screaming at the top of her lungs while mimicking Peeta’s earlier banging. Her hair is shaved. Her body lacks its normal muscle mass but it appears her fire refuses to be squashed.
“Fuck you all! Fuck you and your asshole of a president! Fuck you sorry excuses for peacekeepers who get so fucking triggered by the bitch’s words!”
“Who do you think she’s talking about?”
“The bitch?” Beetee nods, “no idea.”
The two men watch the feeds for a while, the Capitol had smartly not put any of the cameras in the room where they were torturing the captives, so while they waited for "the bitch" to arrive, they made assessments of the people in captivity.
Victors.
Family of victors.
Gamemakers.
Known rebels.
Prep teams.
Escorts.
Haymitch feels the hair on the back of his neck rise as he sees the cowering escorts in their one cell. He tries to spot a familiar pile of color but doesn't see it with some relief.
“I’m going to get some coffee.” Beetee’s declaration snaps Haymitch out of his focus.
“Grab me some, too, if you can.” With a quick nod, the man rolls out of the room. Haymitch’s grey eyes drift back to the screen when he hears the snickering of Peacekeepers in the feed of the hallway outside the cells. He spots them slowly appear on the screen, walking into frame while dragging a limp body with them.
“When are you going to get it threw your pretty little head that he isn’t coming for you? You were nothing but a little toy for him to play with.”
He quickly starts cycling through the feeds trying to follow the two men, but he stops when he sees an empty cell’s door bust open and the limp body is thrown inside.
“His whore.” The two Peacekeepers slam the door with a chuckle, and Haymitch focuses on the body that is coiling in on itself. A female. Dirty hair. Dirty gown. Her back is to the camera, so he can't make out a face. He watches as she attempts to rise, only to let out a sharp yelp when any pressure is placed on her shoulder, but the shift allows him to notice a red brand on her inner forearm that looks like a Mockingjay from a distance.
The mark of a traitor.
“Effie. Effie.” Haymitch’s blood goes cold when he hears the faint whispers of the name.
No.
He watches as the woman finally manages to get herself up, limping while she does over to a wall before curling herself next to a small vent.
“I am fine, Peeta,” The voice is undeniable.
No. She was supposed to be safe.
Effie's hand raises to the wall, almost as if she’s trying to feel the boy through it, “go back to sleep. You’ll need your strength.”
“Effie…”
“Shhh, Peeta. I will be fine. Go to sleep.” There is a break of silence from the boy after that. Haymitch cycles back to Peeta's cell to see him huddled against a wall, his face red from what he can only assume is tears.
“You need to stop protecting us. You can’t keep having them take it out…”
“Never. You’re my victors. All three of you. I will never stop.”
“They’ll kill you.” Peeta’s voice breaks at the words.
“Then a noble death it will be to die for my victors. Please, sleep, Peeta.”
Haymitch goes back to Effie’s feed and finally looks at her. Her hair is matted. Her body is covered in bruises and cuts. The dirty gown is stained with blood and sweat. It rides up slightly on her malnourished figure, and Haymitch can see a fresh, angry, and unreadable mark on her upper thigh. She is pale and her once bright blue eyes appear nearly dead.
His fingers gently run over the screen, “Wait for me, Effie, I’m coming for you.”
Suddenly the feed cuts out.
The despair and anger eventually boil over as he stares at his reflection on the screen, and he lets out a cry before punching the nearest wall. He doesn’t even try to stop the tears.
She was supposed to be safe.
She wasn’t supposed to be there.
She was a Capitol citizen.
She was supposed to be...
“Haymitch!” The sound of breaking cups echoes but Haymitch doesn't acknowledge any of it, “What happened!? Where is the feed?”
“Gone.” Haymitch says no other words before walking out of the room.
Haymitch rushes in with Katniss and Finnick as soon as they get word that the hovercraft is back. His ears ring as he looks around at the Victors, drowning all other noise out. He watches as Annie and Finnick reunite in muted glee, but his eyes still scan the room looking for one person.
“Where is…”
“Your pretty little bauble got sent to prison 3 weeks ago,” Johanna's voice pierces through the barrier of sound as she rips the oxygen supply from her nose, “it’s been really fun for us since she wasn’t there anymore to, what was the word she used, protect us.”
“What?”
“She’s gone, Abernathy! She wasn’t with us! They took her out of the center weeks ago! You're too late.” Johanna spits at him with hatred behind her brown eyes. “Hope you made your last fuck a good one.”
The ringing in his ears gets louder as he walks after Katniss in her search for Peeta.
The next three months are a haze. He barely sleeps or eats, all he does is work behind the scenes in the rebellion, focusing solely on the tasks at hand.
Johanna’s eyes never stop glaring.
Katniss’ eyes look at him with disgust, no doubt because Johanna has filled her in during their morphling swapping sessions.
Annie looks at him with pity.
Finnick tries to cheer him up.
Peeta can barely look him in the eye.
He can’t seem to get the vision of Effie in that cell out of his head. Her vacant eyes replace every memory of her. Her laugh is just her screams. Her smile is covered in blood.
“Haymitch,” The man’s eyes snap up to meet Plutarch.
“What?”
“We’re heading to the Capitol. We’re almost done.”
Haymitch falls into the nearest chair, his hand running down his face.
What the fuck had just happened?
The parachutes. The explosion. Their medical team…gone.
“Was that…?”
“My bombs.” Beetee doesn’t even bat an eye when he confirms Haymitch’s suspicions.
They won…
But at what cost?
“We found her.” Plutarch’s sentence is barely out of his mouth before Haymitch is out his door. The two men rush out of the President’s manor into a waiting hovercraft.
Haymitch barely registers Plutarch’s words which isn't abnormal, but his mind is only on one thing.
Prison.
Outskirts.
Terrible.
As soon as the craft lands, he is out the door, rushing towards the Rebel guards without even a glance back.
“Where?”
“Inside, Cell 0704.” Haymitch can’t help but sneer at the number. Reaping Day. His stupid birthday. He wastes no time finding the box of a room, gently pushing in the door. He can see a medical team working on patching her up, and his heart breaks. She looks far worse than the feed from four months ago.
Her face is hollow. Her blonde hair has lost its shine. Her skin is almost gray. Her eyes still look dead.
The medic team spots him before she does, and they quickly move out of the room.
“Princess.” Haymitch takes a hesitant step forward as he doesn't want to set her off. He was confident that he was the last person she wanted to see. Her blue eyes focus on him, and he can see a small spark of hope behind them that sends his heart fluttering.
“Haymitch…” Her voice is scratchy from lack of use from months of solitude...or overuse from months of screaming. “Haymitch.” Effie suddenly bursts out into tears, and he rushes to her, pulling her into his arms. He can hear his name in her broken sobs as she clings to him, but all he can do is run his hand over her matted hair with a tenderness he didn't know he had in him anymore.
“I’ve got you, Sweetheart.” He bundles her into his arms as he sits on the bed until her sobs dissipate.
“I had almost lost hope.” Her words break his heart, and he quickly places a kiss on her forehead, pouring all his love into that one gesture to let her know she was safe again. He notices how cold her skin is against his lips, and he quickly takes his sweater off to place around her shoulders.
He holds her, crushing her to him, in a hope to convince his mind that she truly was still alive. Her breathing evens out, and he marvels at the sound. It's the most beautiful.
“I saw you in the center.” Effie slowly leans back, the sweater falling off her fragile body as she looks at him with confusion. Haymitch’s thumb gently strokes her cheek. “Beetee was able to get into the feed for a few hours a few months ago. I know you couldn’t hear me, but I told you I was coming and to wait for me.”
“Always.”
Haymitch looks her over more. Most of the bruises have faded. Her scars were less angry looking. The Mockingjay on her forearm was still red and scared, and he can’t help but trace it. He shifts to keep looking over her, but a long hiss leaves her, stopping him in his tracks.
“What?” He grabs her, his panicked eyes searching her pained face.
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Effie, what is it?” She sighs and stands, and pulls up the white gown to show him what the red mark from all those months ago was.
Abernathy
Words leave him.
The edges of his vision gray.
Sound ceases.
The world stills.
He looks at his name on her inner thigh.
They branded her…with his name.
“It’s still sensitive. They didn’t properly treat it, said it's what I deserved for being you who...” She can't finish the word as she brings her blue eyes to meet his gray. As soon as their eyes lock, Haymitch can’t help but let tears start falling. He was supposed to protect her. That’s what he promised her the night before he left for 13.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you would be safe here. I should have gotten you…” His words are broken as he tries to force them out between sobs.
“Shhh, shhh,” Effie crawls back into his lap. Her hands frame his face as wipes away the tears. He had no right to her comfort. No right. “I’m fine, Haymitch. I’m here.”
“You should have been safe.”
“You made what you thought was the right call, darling,” Effie places a gentle kiss on his lips, “you couldn’t have known.”
"Doesn't make it right." She offers no response. The two of them cling to each other in her tiny cell, offering each other comfort until what little light was in the cell began to fade.
“Haymitch.” The two figures turn to Plutarch, who awkwardly stands in the doorway. “We need to get her back to the clinic.”
Haymitch sweeps her up and walks her to the hovercraft, cradling her close and marveling at her weight against him.
Grateful she was here.
Grateful she was alive.
Grateful she waited.