Putting Out The Flames

Author: daxcat79

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Haymitch/Effie

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Warnings: Prejudice, Attempted Rape

Summary: Effie Trinket struggles with prejudice from former rebels of the Capitol, while coming to terms with the torture she suffered at President Snow's hands. The Hunger Games never really ended, the arena was all that was missing.

A/N: Takes place five years after "Mockingjay." (Much thanks to my awesome beta withdrawnred, you rock!)

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

She used to dream of elegant parties and expensive gowns… brightly colored wigs and make up to hide every freckle or discoloration. She didn't have a care in this world, and any cares she did possess were easily suppressed by all the pleasures the Capitol had to offer. She used to be important. She used to be loved. Most importantly, she used to sleep peacefully at night.

Effie missed the days when her biggest worry was whether she would wear a pink or purple gown to match the latest Capitol trends. Endless parties serving the tastiest treats, and with a quick trip to the bathroom she never even had to worry about being full. The world was hers for the taking, and even if she did escort for District 12, she still had the job everyone wanted.

Expensive gowns and fashionable wigs would not help her now. Keeping her head down was the only way to get through the day without incident in the Capitol. Even then it didn't matter, because her accent gave her away. Her posture gave her away. Her very smell gave her away. No one cared that she'd been tortured by President Snow, facing death on more than one occasion due to her connection with Katniss. In the rebels' eyes she was the enemy. Occasional rudeness was nothing compared to what she dealt with now.

Men had been following her for at least a block. Effie tried to quicken her pace, head tucked under her expensive cloak (one of the few she'd managed to save after the revolution). It wasn't the first time she'd been noticed, and it never failed to make her heart skip a beat. Her muscles tensed with fear, but she kept going. She quickened her pace. It was getting late. She was never out so late. No one seemed to care how important her schedule was to her.

Her hands tightened over the food she'd recently purchased, her allotment for the week. The very thought made her heart ache, and she couldn't comprehend why food had to be rationed so severely. "Where's your wig Capitol girl?"

Effie sucked in a shaky breath, but refused to stop walking. Her heart was pounding now, and she knew it was no use. Something bad was going to happen, and she wouldn't be able to stop it. Since the end of the revolution all she'd wanted was to forget… all anyone ever wanted to do was forget, but the rebels wouldn't let her. The Hunger Games continued long after the war.

"We're talkin' to you, Capitol girl! Too special to talk to us lowly rebels?"

Her eyes closed for a moment, and she tried to shove down the righteous indignation over their behavior. She continued to walk, but the men refused to give up. One rushed past her and blocked her path. His hair was dark brown, with grey eyes that reminded her of Katniss. It took her a moment to realize he might possibly be from District 12. The recognition on his face confirmed her fears. "Excuse me, I'd like to return home," she spoke as firmly as she could, though it sounded far too quiet to her own ears.

He took another step forward, glancing down at her bag of food. "Why don't I help you with that," he offered with a twisted smirk.

Effie knew she could run, but she wouldn't get very far. She could also fight, but it would only make them angrier. She could scream, but they would only silence her quickly. Her options were few. She could only watch helplessly as he pulled the bag of food from her hands. "Please," she begged. "Please don't."

The other man took his place behind her and as she glanced back at him she could see the same grey eyes, though his hair was dirty blond. What had she done to these men? What could she have possibly done to deserve the hatred in those grey eyes? She couldn't understand. She supposed she never would. "You look very pretty," the blonde whispered in her hear, glancing over at his friend with a wicked grin.

What happened next was a blur. She remembered watching her bag fall to the ground as the pushed her roughly against the nearest wall. She remembered screaming so loudly even as they ripped her blouse. Effie kicked at them desperately when she heard a zipper go down, while hands tried to pull up her skirt. They silenced her with a smack across her face, but it didn't matter. She remembered relief when she fell to the ground, watching a figure pull the two men away. Her tongue tasted blood as everything went dark, and she could only hope for a quick and easy death.

It wasn't the first report of violence against persons raised in the Capitol. Declaring peace did not erase the years of hate. Haymitch hadn't been told about the attack until days later, mostly because he'd been passed out cold from too much drink. Thankfully Peeta had the good sense to keep informed about affairs in the Capitol, just in case.

He'd fought so hard to keep Effie Trinket safe, but it seemed the fight was only just beginning. The rage he felt when his eyes took in her broken face overwhelmed him. It just wouldn't stop. Hate and violence was all anyone knew, and not even hope could quiet their screams for vengeance. He hadn't realized he was holding her hand until one of the nurses glanced down with disgust. He could tell by her dark skin that she was probably from District 11. He immediately let Effie go.

"H-Haymitch?" Her voice was rough and quiet. He could barely stand to see the fear in her bruised eyes.

"Doc says you're gonna be okay," he assured her quickly, his voice harsher than he would have liked. "They gave me permission to get you out of here."

There were tears in her eyes. Effie was far too fragile for this world. "Haymitch, I'm scared," she told him as more tears fell.

Haymitch felt so awkward taking her hand once more, but he didn't know what else to do. "I know, Effie… I know."

The smell of alcohol burned her nostrils, but she was used to that by now with Haymitch. A most disgusting, deplorable habit, but somehow it seemed far less ridiculous now after all she'd seen and experienced. Still, the man seemed to live his life in a state of constant inebriation, and she honestly couldn't understand how he managed to function. His eyes seemed so clear, as he carefully led her to a chair by the window of the train. Her injuries made it impossible for her to live by herself, and since she had no family, Haymitch had offered to care for her until she was well enough to return home. He'd called ahead to inform Peeta and Katniss just before leaving the hospital, and they were already preparing her guestroom.

Effie felt it would be rude not to thank them, but her voice was lost under the weight of her recent experience, and she simply couldn't be bothered. She spent most of the trip by the window, watching the Capitol fade away from view. She wondered if she'd even want to go back once she'd healed. It didn't really seem like home anymore.

"Drink?"

Effie glanced up at Haymitch, watching him sway just before he took a seat across from her. "No thank you," she replied, trying not to betray the disgust she felt as he shrugged and finished off her drink in one gulp. Years of him staggering and swaying from his drinking flew through her mind like pictures in a movie. She wondered what it would take to turn her into him, and then quickly banished the thought. She could never imagine willingly giving up her clarity as he did, especially not after her experiences in prison during the rebellion.

"It helps you know… keeps the demons away," he told her, and when she looked at him it was like he knew. Had he heard her scream in her sleep? The nightmares refused to let her be, forcing her to relive the attack over and over again; bringing back the chill of her prison cell; reminding her of all the horrors she'd experienced since the rebellion.

"There must be another way," she finally said, shaking her head.

Haymitch just laughed. "If you figure it out… feel free to let me know."

Was her pain funny to him? Effie's eyes narrowed angrily, and she quickly stood. "They tried to rape me Haymitch! Those filthy… those men… they tried to rape me!" She felt no satisfaction when his smile faded away; replaced by a pain she hadn't understood until recently. "You and your stupid revolution… you ruined my life!" She limped away before he could say anything. Perhaps she was being selfish. She didn't really care. She hated living this way. He ought to know that.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Haymitch wasn't sure what she was talking about at first. One minute they'd been sharing their final meal together before the train reached what was left of District 12, quiet and peaceful the way he liked it, and the next she was apologizing. Manners had always been so important to Effie, and a part of him was relieved to see this hadn't changed. In a world that'd been on the brink of chaos, it was good to know some things stayed the same. "Probably deserved it," he told her with a faint smile, watching her look away.

She was blushing. It was so strange to see her without the wig and make-up. Her wounds were healing, and as they faded, his attention was pulled to the blonde hair usually tucked under a wig. Her skin was pale, though not nearly as bad as when she wore her hideous powder. She looked… normal, beautiful. It was a disturbing thought, and Haymitch tried not to dwell on it long. "Even so… it was extremely rude after all you've done for me. I apologize, Haymitch."

Haymitch took a sip of his drink, savoring the burn. "Apology accepted."

They finished their meal in silence. Haymitch didn't miss how many times she seemed to stare at him, as if he were a puzzle to figure out. He also didn't miss how many times he found himself staring at her, wondering just how beautiful she would look once the bruises were gone completely.

It may not have been the most fancy of homes, but it was peaceful in District 12. They'd all agreed to have her stay with Katniss while she recovered, and she was thankful for the female companionship. Katniss had never been the most conversational person she'd ever met, but Effie was willing to talk enough for them both. She carefully avoided any mention of her attack, or the time she spent in prison. Nothing ruined the mood faster than dwelling on bad memories.

Each night Haymitch would visit to check on her. It was important during her rehabilitation that she walk as much as possible, and he would often pick her up a few hours before dinner. It seemed foreign to see Haymitch extend his arm like a gentleman. For so long she'd been certain his lack of manners came from a poor upbringing. Peeta suspected he only behaved badly to get under her skin.

The field he'd take her to was beautiful to say the least, and nothing like what she was used to in the Capitol. It was one of the few places untouched when President Snow ordered that they destroy District 12 completely. "I think perhaps I should rest," she finally told Haymitch when the strain of walking became too much of her, and she slowly took a seat in the field, careful not to wrinkle her dress.

Haymitch dropped beside her with the grace of an untrained mutt, pulling at the grass nearby his feet. "You're healing quickly. That's good. At this rate you'll be back in the Capitol in a matter of weeks."

She could tell he meant the words to be comforting. To her it felt more like a prison sentence. The very thought of returning home made her stomach twist, and her heart ache. Did she really want to return to that place? Was it any better than her time spent in prison? She hadn't realized she was crying until Haymitch was wiping them away, a curious look in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to make you cry."

Of course he didn't. Haymitch could be harsh, but never would she consider him heartless. "Haymitch… do you hate me?" The question must have caught him off-guard. His eyes widened in surprise and his hand fell away from her face. There seemed to be a struggle behind those eyes, and she knew she needed to explain herself. "I came from the Capitol. I enjoyed the games just as much as any of my friends. I never struggled as you did. I grew up with privileges… worry-free. Before the rebellion I never even understood what it meant to go hungry. I just-"

"Never." He interrupted her, though it didn't upset her as much as it might have several years ago. She could see the conviction in his gaze even as he spoke. "I could never hate you. I hate those silly outfits you used to wear. I hate the make-up, and the wigs, and I hate the way you correct me for my poor manners. I could never hate you."

Effie was staring at him, and he was staring back. She wasn't quite sure why her heart was beating so fast. She wasn't in danger, and she certainly wasn't upset. If anything, she felt nervous… perhaps a bit uncomfortable from sitting so long. She was wringing her hands, feeling more awkward and unsure than she ever remembered feeling. It didn't make sense to her until Haymitch leaned in, kissing her lips so gently she almost didn't feel it. His lips tasted of rum, making her mouth tingle. She wondered just how drunk he really was.

"We should get back," he finally spoke, pulling away from her before she could even process what had happened. "It's getting late."

Haymitch struggled to get to his feet, and helped her stand as well. Effie cleared her throat and tried licking her lips to remove the rum from her lips. "I thought I was the one who was usually concerned about such things," she finally spoke, choosing not to address the kiss. She wasn't even sure where that had come from. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"You must be rubbing off on me… a disturbing thought if ever there was one," he muttered, helping her back towards Katniss' home.

She felt it best not to reply. She was feeling a bit light-headed, and silently she wondered if a kiss from Haymitch could actually get a person tipsy.

Haymitch must have blacked out sometime after dinner because he never made it home. Instead he found himself on Katniss' couch, drowning in his own drool and vomit. After his shared kiss with Effie he'd been almost desperate to drink as much as humanly possible. Frankly, he was a little surprised he was even alive still. His head was pounding, his whole body ached, and his tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. He was a little too sober now, with how his hands kept shaking, and he struggled to get off the couch in search of drink.

He didn't manage to get very far when he slipped on his own vomit and was sent to the floor. Usually Peeta or Katniss cleaned up after him, so he guessed it had been very recent that he'd lost his stomach. Haymitch bit back a curse and wiped off his pants, frustrated by his own clumsiness. He was frustrated about a lot of things. That's why he drank.

"You smell like a dead body."

He wasn't surprised to see Effie standing before him, looking slightly green from his appearance and the smell. She was holding a towel, and trying desperately to breathe through her mouth. Haymitch shot her an annoyed glance, even as he took the towel to clean himself up. "Have you ever smelled a real dead body before?"

He almost missed the vacant look in her eyes, as if she were somewhere else, before she was forcing a small smile. "It wouldn't hurt you to say 'thank you' every once in a while," she replied, and Haymitch had a feeling he'd hit a nerve. He often forgot President Snow had her imprisoned. Who knew what she'd seen while she was there. Johanna was the toughest woman he'd ever met and even she hadn't quite recovered from the torture Snow inflicted on her.

"Thank you," he said, forcing himself to his feet. He swayed just a bit, but managed to stay upright. His headache only worsened as the light hit his eyes.

There was a hint of surprise on her face as she nodded. "You're welcome… but seriously. Katniss prepared a bath for you. You smell awful."

Haymitch couldn't help but laugh as he brushed past her, dropping the towel over the puddle of vomit he'd slipped on. "Whatever you say, Effie!" It seemed wrong somehow, but he kinda liked the new Effie Trinket. Not only did she dress better, but she'd developed a backbone too.

Katniss had left early in the morning to hunt, and Peeta seemed eager to be far away when Haymitch was finally conscious. Effie suspected he'd cleaned enough vomit in his day to know better. She hadn't completely healed since her attack, but she was mobile enough to clean up after Haymitch. It was really the headaches, and the broken ribs that hurt the worst.

A few years ago, and she never would have thought to clean up after another person. What was the point when others were hired to work for her? Since the rebellion, so much had changed, and apparently so had she. As a child, she could still remember watching the Avox clean up after her. She remembered piles of dishes sent to the servants to clean. They moved like ghosts around her, invisible and unappreciated. How she wished she had known then what she knew now.

Once the couch and floor was clean, Effie found the second bathroom to wash up. She'd been careful not to touch anything, but that didn't mean her hands were clean. The very sight of Haymitch sleeping in such filth made her dirty all over. Katniss had assured her his home was much worse. She wasn't really surprised.

Once she was cleaned up she changed her clothes, putting on a white dress Katniss had given her. Apparently, it was an outfit Cinna had made for her (one of the garments Katniss was to claim she'd made). It was far too simple, but it was comfortable, and she liked the way it flowed when she walked. She stepped out of the bathroom just in time to run into Haymitch, grateful he too had changed. "Oh! Excuse me!"

Haymitch's hands flew out to steady her (not that he was any better himself). "You cleaned up after me."

It seemed odd for him to state the obvious. He was a man of few words, and he rarely wasted them on the obvious. "You vomited all over Katniss' couch. I couldn't just leave it there to soak. Those couches are worth quite a bit," she pointed out.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "I bet you know what everything in this house is worth, don't you."

She did. She couldn't help but smile. Her mother had been the same way. Everything she ever bought had to be the best, and she was smart enough to know when the deal was bad. She'd passed this knowledge to Effie very early in her life. They'd had the finest things, and without fail ensured that everyone knew exactly what it cost. It wasn't a sin to have nice things, or enjoy nice things… even if Katniss and Haymitch made her feel like it was. "You would too if you'd lived my life."

He shook his head, but his lips were curled in a faint smile. "I need a drink," he muttered, walking over to the bottle Katniss had left by the recently cleaned couch. He didn't even bother with a glass as he drank it straight from the bottle.

Effie wrinkled her nose, but said nothing. She didn't like his drinking, but even she understood the need to escape. She'd always thought of the Hunger Games as an honor, but even she understood what it did to people. She'd seen firsthand how it'd affected Katniss and Peeta. Haymitch had lost his family because of his actions during the Quell. He was fighting his demons the only way he knew how. She still believed there had to be another way, but the temptation to escape as he had was there.

Haymitch was staring at her again, even as he wiped away the wine dripping down his chin. "You've changed."

"People often do."

"What did Snow do to you?"

She wasn't expecting his question, and she immediately looked away. She didn't want to talk about that. "I was put in prison, Haymitch… what do you think?" She busied herself by smoothing out her dress and walking into the kitchen to clean the dishes. She wanted to feel useful, and somehow cleaning seemed to help. She knew Haymitch would follow her though. He'd never back down so easily.

"Torture then?"

"Stop it, Haymitch," she snapped. She reached for the rag and wiped off the first plate, soaking it in soap and cleaning it of debris.

"Did they use a muttation? The jabberjays? Force you to listen to the screams of people you loved?" She only scrubbed harder as he continued. "Were you soaked in water like Johanna, and treated to electroshocks? Tell me, Effie! What did they do to you?" Effie didn't even realize she'd broken the plate she was cleaning until she saw the blood on her hands. Haymitch stood silent behind her for a moment before taking her hands and cleaning off the blood. "Jeez, Effie!"

Effie could only watch as he cleaned her wounds, but she didn't even feel the sting of her cuts. Her mind was gone, lost in the past. She could still feel the roughness of the bars as she demanded to be released. She'd been such a fool. They'd made her watch… as they hurt Peeta and the others. They'd forced her to treat their wounds, and clean up the blood. She could still hear their screams in her dreams. They never laid a finger on her. She was too important, too well connected to damage in such a way… not like Portia or Cinna. It made her sick to her stomach.

"Effie? Hey… Effie," Haymitch called to her.

Effie finally met his gaze, tears in her eyes. "I don't want to go back, Haymitch. I can't go back there again," she whispered.

Haymitch pulled her to him before she could say anything more. He smelled like soap and wine. She closed her eyes, arms wrapped around him, and held on. They didn't let go until Katniss returned. Neither was eager to talk about what happened, or explain why Effie's hands were cut up. They simply wrapped up her hands and let her sleep the rest of the day away.

"Why don't you just admit you have feelings for her?"

Haymitch choked on his drink, glaring at Peeta as his lungs burned from the alcohol. "What?"

Peeta folded his arms, sitting across from him. "I'm not an idiot. I may get confused sometimes, but I'm not blind. Katniss just thinks you're screwing with her, but you like her."

He'd walked Haymitch home, but that didn't mean he couldn't still kick the kid out. "I'll let that one go because Snow screwed with your head, but you really ought to keep your crazy theories to yourself." He took another sip of his wine, a long sip, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat. He needed something stronger.

"Avoid the truth all you want, Haymitch, but I've been where you are. It's easier if you just accept it," Peeta told him. He got up slowly, avoiding the debris on the floor as he left. "She cares about you too, by the way," he added just before he left.

Haymitch stared at the door long after it closed. His drink remained forgotten for the rest of the night. He couldn't get Peeta's words out of his head. He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

Effie couldn't really remember a time that Haymitch apologized for anything, so she'd been sure she heard wrong. The fact that he'd gone at out of his way to find her was shocking enough. She'd decided to go walking to clear her head, and perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to go back to the spot where they'd kissed just yesterday. It was such a nice day. She'd hoped it would improve her mood.

"Effie?"

Effie turned to look at him, almost scared to hear what he had to say. "I'm sure I deserved it," she finally said, repeating his words from before.

He walked closer to her. "You don't… you don't deserve to be hurt, Effie. You definitively don't deserve me."

There was a lot Effie realized she didn't understand. Love and romance was high on this list. As a teenager she'd had her fantasies of a handsome man, full of charm and decorum. She'd certainly never considered she could fall for someone like Haymitch. The very thought was amusing. "No one ever said I wanted you," she told him, standing straight, with her head held high.

Haymitch was smiling at her. "I suppose not." Effie wasn't sure why, but she liked it when he smiled. "You probably hate me…."

Effie closed the space between them, holding his gaze. "I hate that you drink. I hate your lack of good manners. I hate how you treat me sometimes. I could never hate you." She kissed him before she could think better of it. It was a lot better without the taste of rum on his breath.

Effie Trinket would never live in the Capitol again. The peace of District 12 was too good to pass up… and then there was Haymitch. Every day they heard more reports of violence against those who grew up in the Capitol. Once or twice Haymitch had to rock Effie to sleep as she cried over the death of a friend. They'd always claim it was a mugging, but no one was fooled. The Hunger Games were never really over. Hate was a fire that was not so easily extinguished. Effie might have been safe, but the fight continued on. They could only hope someone else would step forward to put out the flames.

The End