For Her

A roar in the distance woke Haymitch. He jumped almost imperceptibly, his hand already searching for his knife, when something moved beneath him and gravity pulled his body to the left. With a groan, he opened his eyes and realized he was in a car. The car had made a sharp turn and of course he hadn't been wearing a seatbelt. The seats beneath him were so comfortable, so soft, that he was happy to sink back into them. He couldn't remember how he had ended up here. All he knew was that he must have fallen asleep in the back seat.

Blinking, Haymitch sat up and scanned his surroundings more closely. At least that was his plan. A sharp pain shot through his head and the young victor had to hold on to the dark wall that separated him from the driver's area. A taxi, then. The dark window at the front was drawn shut. Did the driver even know where to drop him off?

It took him several moments to remember the after-show party that took place in the Capitol's hottest club every year after the tribute interviews. Laetitia Lowell and Chaff had accompanied him there. The party had been nothing special. Haymitch detested these kinds of parties. You were surrounded by disgusting people who had nothing better to do with their privileged lives than to delight in the suffering of children. It was known that the after-party was the official start of the coming betting season. What person in their right mind would bet on the death of children and then make money from it? It didn't surprise him that this type of gambling was so popular among the richest people in the capital. It sickened him.

Having to endure the company of these people for an evening was one of the reasons why Haymitch could barely see straight now. Since entering the club, he had been chugging down drink after drink in the hope of blocking out these monsters. Of course, his brain had not granted him that relief. The odds had never been in his favor. All evening, he had hoped that some guy would be stupid enough to repeat the madness of last year. They would have broken up the party and he could have just returned to the penthouse. But of course, the world wasn't fair, especially not to him.

Even in the Capitol there was crime, and God ... what he would have given to have been there last year. Some boy from the suburbs, barely over 18, had killed three Gamemakers before security had even discovered the knives he had hidden inside his suit. This year, Haymitch hadn't come across a single Gamemaker in the club, and for that alone he would have gladly thanked the attacker. The boy was certainly dead, the murder of such high-ranking people had consequences, even for Capitols.

Laetitia had been excited, Haymitch remembered as much. She had been in no hurry to leave the party, so he had played along with her funny game. He had danced with her, kissed her in front of everyone, and drunk so much that his head now hurt and his surroundings were more obscure than sharp. He had done what was asked of him. Chaff had been there, too, but only to support him. He had needed an alibi to get away from Effie, and Chaff wanting to go out partying was a better alibi than just disappearing. Haymitch was grateful for that, even though his friend had stressed more than once that he didn't understand why he was doing all this. And if he was honest with himself, he didn't know why he'd gotten involved in it either.

It hadn't changed the fact that he had had to handle the really tough part on his own. After Laetitia had attracted enough attention and had been seen with more than one victor, he had accompanied her to the Lowells' estate. As arranged.

From there, the memories grew increasingly blurred, dark, and confusing. Haymitch had left the Lowells' estate late at night and was still so drunk that he couldn't even remember what exactly had happened between him and Laetitia. He could have killed her in a fit of rage without being able to recall a single image of the past hours in his mind. The only image that repeatedly surfaced in his inner eye was Effie's slender face and the disgusted expression in her crystal-blue eyes as he had wrapped his arm tightly around Laetitia's waist. And yet he had done all of that just for her. If it had been up to him, he wouldn't have touched a woman like Laetitia Lowell even with a ten-foot pole. She embodied everything Haymitch loathed about the Capitol. She was ignorant, self-centered, and inhuman, though she probably wasn't even aware of it; too blinded by the dazzling lifestyle she led.

Haymitch had no idea how he had managed to get into the taxi. He stared down at himself, anxiously wondering what he might find. He had lost his tie somewhere, probably had it removed by Laetitia. There was no blood on his hands, which was a relief, but didn't mean much. He could just as easily have strangled her with his bare hands. Golden lipstick smeared across the chest and shoulders of his suit. He wasn't an expert, but he could still say with a fair amount of certainty that the jacket was ruined. The pounding in his head wasn't helping him remember more details, and somehow, he was grateful for that. What he couldn't recall, he didn't need to regret.

Eventually the car stopped and when Haymitch looked out the window he saw the Training Center towering high above him, swinging back and forth in dancing movements. Effie was probably sleeping somewhere up there. The image of her wide eyes made him feel guilty and he forced himself to push her face out of his mind.

Getting to the penthouse turned out to be more difficult than he had thought. It reminded him a little of the Opening Ceremony and how a completely overwhelmed Effie had had to help his drunken ass back to the Training Center. Every fiber of his body hoped not to see her again tonight. Haymitch wasn't sure he could handle it. He never wanted to see that look in her eyes again. And yet he had done it for her.

At first glance, the penthouse seemed deserted. The lights were off and there was no sound, so Haymitch slowly and unsteadily shuffled through the hallways. Walking upright was a problem, as his sense of balance had failed him and his vision was still blurred. He wasn't exactly quiet, he knew that, but the alcohol in his blood was fraying his nerves and making it impossible to focus. More than once he bumped into a dresser or some damn decorative table, and he could only pray that he didn't knock over a vase in the process. The last thing he wanted was to wake up the entire floor.

He passed the living room on his way to his room, and his unsteady steps were about to take him past it when he noticed the dimmed light out of the corner of his eye and jerked to a halt. He only had time to grab the doorframe to keep from falling to the side when a familiar female voice began to speak.

"Haymitch, is that you?" Effie asked from the living room, her tone uncertain and more fragile than Haymitch would have liked. Even through the haze of alcohol, he could hear the pain.

For a moment, Haymitch closed his eyes and leaned his head against the doorframe, hoping to simply disappear into the ground forever. A soft sigh escaped his lips and then he entered the living room, not daring to open his mouth. What could he say, anyway? His words would be nothing more than an incomprehensible mumble anyway.

Effie was sitting at the long table where they usually ate their meals and where Ramon had chased her a few days ago. The room was dark except for a lamp on the wall behind the table. Haymitch stepped into the beam of light and tried to focus his eyes on Effie. She had changed and was now wearing a simple black dress. He couldn't tell if the blonde hair on her head was real or a wig. Dark circles were visible under her eyes that even her make-up couldn't hide. She looked sad, which brought Haymitch to a halt. He wasn't good at dealing with feelings and sadness was an emotion he should definitely avoid.

Effie didn't make a move to open her mouth. That was unusual enough. She stared at him with her light blue eyes, trying to hide her feelings from him. Haymitch didn't know why she was bothering, because he had already seen through her. "What are you doing?" he asked, ignoring the fact that it was almost four in the morning.

"I am working on the sponsorship folder for the children," Effie explained curtly. No long digressions, no chatter like a waterfall.

The scornful laugh left his throat before he could stop it. "You realize Twelve hasn't had a single sponsor in years? A folder won't change that." He regretted the words even as he spoke them. The damn alcohol must have made him the more talkative of the two of them now. Effie grimaced and lowered her eyes, which suddenly seemed completely empty, and Haymitch cursed himself for caring how she felt. He had never cared in the slightest about the well-being of any Capitol, man or woman. So why now? Why her?

"Maybe I'm missing the big picture, but I don't quite understand how you can get drunk with some women while the lives of the children from your District hang by a thread," Effie burst out, reacting more angrily than Haymitch had expected. It surprised him because she usually had her emotions well in check. She paused briefly to blink away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. Nevertheless, he saw them. "Do you even know how hard it was for me to say goodbye to Elowen?"

"Effie." It sounded more like a sigh. He should have been angry that she was blaming him for something, especially since she was the reason for his meeting with Laetitia Lowell. But there was no anger in him. Deep down, he knew she was right. Not just because of these Games, but because of all the children before, whom Haymitch had never cared about; because he didn't want to and couldn't. At first, he had tried to save the children. He had taken the time, just as Effie was doing now. But all that remained was the pain. All it stirred up were the memories of his own arena, which he had buried as deep in his memory as possible. Haymitch tried to convince himself that maybe he would have told her all this if the alcohol hadn't had him completely under its control.

Haymitch could almost feel the wedge he had driven between Effie and himself with his decision after the interviews. The unforgivable, betrayed look in her eyes told him that he didn't have much time left to come clean if he didn't want to ruin what was between them.

Effie shook her head vehemently before he could continue. "No, Haymitch." She paused for a moment and seemed to want to pierce him with her gaze. She wasn't cut out for this job. She wasn't strong enough to let the Hunger Games pass her by year after year without being scarred, and it worried him more and more every day. Once you were on board the Games, there was no escape. It would break her if she wasn't careful. "I see you had fun and I hope it was worth it. I thought you were different ... I thought you were better."

Now she couldn't hold back the tears. Haymitch wondered how they had even come to speak so openly to each other. They had both been avoiding the big iceberg for days, not saying a word about that night. She packed up her things and stormed past him to the door. He could practically feel the time slipping away from him. He had been ignoring the alarm bells in his head for far too long, screaming at him to stop the nonsense and just forget about her. But he didn't know why he couldn't.

Before he could think twice, he grabbed her forearm and stopped her from leaving the living room. An angry hiss escaped Effie and again Haymitch was so taken aback by the magnitude of her reaction that he almost let go of her. She tried to free herself from his grip and for a moment they wrestled for the upper hand.

"Let me go right now or I swear you won't forget this day soon, Haymitch Abernathy," Effie growled through clenched teeth. A primitive part of Haymitch liked this side of her and was relieved that there was more heart and soul beneath the Capitol facade than her manners.

"Listen to me, Effie." His voice was a mumble and he could hardly take himself seriously.

"I don't want to hear your stupid statements," she shot back without further ado, and she seemed to really mean it, because a moment later, without warning, she kicked him between the legs. It wasn't strong, but it served its purpose. How great was Effie's hatred for him if she was even prepared to use violence to get away from him? The Effie he knew had almost fainted when she had slapped him. She had probably finally realized that her manners weren't getting her very far with him.

"I had reasons, Effie," the young victor tried to explain himself again. "I assure you nothing is as you think. Listen to me." He was unsteady on his feet. Effie's kick had thrown him off balance.

Effie was already halfway to the door when she turned to him. Tears were streaming down her face, but her brows were furrowed in anger. "I had to lie for you so Elowen wouldn't think you'd abandoned her," she screamed at him now, and Haymitch flinched. Had he ever heard her scream before? It wasn't the first time she'd raised her voice, but she'd never shouted at him before. He couldn't help but stare at her with an expression of open shock. Her hands, wrapped around the folder in front of her chest like a shield, were shaking.

"To say goodbye—" Effie's voice broke, and it was one of the worst sounds Haymitch had ever heard. Not worse than the gurgling from Maysilee's throat, but not far behind, and for that alone, he had to be crazy. "I'm done, Haymitch."

Haymitch tried to ignore the guilt that flared up in his chest, knowing that he had given something for Elowen today, even if Effie was in the dark about it. He would have preferred to keep her in the dark, but the more this discussion got derailed, the more he realized that he might not have any other choice if he wanted to save this relationship with her, whatever it was.

"I thought I knew you, Haymitch. I thought we were on the right path. I've overlooked a lot because I understand that it's not easy for you to be here. But after today, I can't help but wonder if Petunia was right after all. You let me down, I had to lie for you, and it seems you've been lying to me the whole time."

Haymitch flinched at Effie's accusation. The room around him seemed to spin, and he swayed to the side, gripping the edge of the table for support. Putting his words in order so Effie could make sense of them was harder than he had anticipated. He looked down at his fingers clutching the table edge, suppressing the anger that bubbled in his gut — anger towards himself, and towards Effie for being unable to see the truth. "I never lied to you."

"You said that you despise the Capitol and hate us all for what we are, because we feel superior to you in the Districts. You said that you find us cruel because we watch the Hunger Games and find amusement in it." Effie's voice rose higher with each word, as though each sentence brought her more sorrow. At least she looked him in the eyes while throwing these awful accusations at him. At least she had the courage not to look away. It wasn't the first time Haymitch admired her courage, even if it had nearly cost her life more than once. "You're a hypocrite if you let Laetitia Lowell make you betray me and the kids from your District, for ... what exactly? Fun? Alcohol? Sex? You disgust me."

A moment ago, he had been able to suppress the anger in his gut, and if he hadn't been so drunk, he might have been able to overlook her comment, which was wrong on so many levels. The real truth was so twisted that she as a naive Capitol would never figure it out on her own.

Something in his neck cracked, and the next thing he knew, he was looming over Effie, who suddenly widened her eyes, shocked by his unexpected reaction. She hadn't anticipated that he could move so quickly despite his obvious disorientation. She had forgotten that she was dealing with a victor of the Hunger Games. "You have no right to tell me that I've betrayed my District," Haymitch spat out, raising a trembling finger threateningly near her face. He wondered what Effie must think of him in that moment, his hand shaking uncontrollably. A bitter confusion reflected in her eyes. "You have no idea what I've been through, who I've lost, and what I've endured to be standing here in this damned room today. If you were in my shoes, you'd probably have jumped off the nearest high-rise by now because you couldn't handle the weight. You of all people. You're here voluntarily. I'm only here because if I weren't, they'd drag some kids from Twelve to my doorstep and put a bullet in their heads. And you still revel in drawing their names. Just to then celebrate as they're slaughtered in the arena."

Haymitch spat the words at her like pure poison. His hands were still shaking and he expected a slap in the face. He deserved it. Effie was within reach and she had raised her right hand, but dropped it like a sack of potatoes at his words. She flinched away from him as if she had been burned. For a moment he had forgotten who was standing in front of him. He knew himself that she had not deserved those words, that only one man truly deserved them, but who would always be out of his reach.

Haymitch didn't expect her to start sobbing. He could only watch as she wrapped her arms tighter around her folder and her body began to shake. He watched with increasing horror as thick tears rolled down Effie's thin cheeks and her lips trembled. Her breath hitched and he began to panic. He had wanted her to hear the truth; what they were doing to the people in the Districts and what they had done to him.

He didn't know why she was crying, and suddenly it was all too much for him: the alcohol coursing through his veins. The chaos of emotions in his chest. Effie's own mental breakdown. The world around him was spinning faster than before and he felt like he was falling. Haymitch opened his mouth to warn her, but his feet lacked any coordination. He felt himself stumbling before he even felt the ground beneath his body.

Then Effie's huge, sky-blue eyes loomed over him. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, but she was looking at him with a panicked concern; the uncontrollable anger of a moment ago gone. Her blonde hair fell tangled over her shoulders, and now that he was so close to her, he was sure it was her real hair. He could feel her hands. One gently stroked his cheek and the other squeezed his shaking hand. "Haymitch?"

"I'm ... fine," Haymitch mumbled, and if he hadn't been drunk, he would probably be embarrassed. "Nothing new, just ... the alcohol."

"Can you stand up?" Effie asked uncertainly, stroking his cheek again. Her touch was so light as a feather that Haymitch wasn't even sure if she was actually touching him or if his fantasizing mind was just imagining it.

"Don't know," he murmured and closed his eyes. The heat of their tempers had cooled down in a matter of seconds and now that Haymitch could think more clearly again, he wondered how long Effie would grant him this truce. By tomorrow at the latest, when the alcohol had completely left his system, she would again establish this unapproachable distance between them. In a hesitant movement, Haymitch removed his hand from Effie's and sat up. Effie had knelt on the fabric of her dress and he could see the dust that was already beginning to stick to it. Somehow he didn't believe that she would just kneel on the floor for anyone, for the sake of her expensive clothes. She let her hands fall and gave him a cautious look, as if she feared at any second that he would fall onto his back again.

"I'll explain everything to you, Effie," he finally repeated his words, trying to look serious as he returned her gaze. "But first I'd like to change. The suit stinks." And it really did. Laetitia's scent, some expensive perfume, had penetrated deep into the fibers of the fabric. Every breath reminded him of her. Another reason to throw the suit away.

Conflict crossed Effie's face. Haymitch knew she didn't want to hear whatever he had to say. "Haymitch," her voice faltered. Now that the two had calmed down a bit, her manners took control of her behavior again. "We both know it will not change anything. Do not make this harder for me than it already is."

"No, Effie," Haymitch interrupted her before she could completely deny him. "There's a reason for what I did. You just have to listen to me, and if you think the reason isn't good enough, you can continue to hate me. But please give me this one chance."

Something on her face changed, but Haymitch couldn't tell if it was a good or bad sign. Her deep blue eyes rested on him for a while and she seemed to be struggling with herself. Then she lowered her head and nodded once. "Very well, Haymitch. I will give you your chance. I just hope you use it wisely."

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Skyllen