A/N: So i wrote this story as suggested by a reviewer of my story Effie's First Hunger Games (which is in Haymitch's POV) to write it in Effie's. So here it is. I hope you enjoy!

The canon resonated in the air.

It was as if a string had been cut within me. A string that tied me to the world that I lived within. A representation of hope, happiness, and innocence. The principality and the morals that I had believed I upheld. That string was gone and I was unhinged.

Cruelty. Brutality. Inhumanity. The thoughts rampaged in my head, a glaringly red blur that destroyed what I had thought of the Capitol. I once had only warm sentiments of the place I had once considered to be home. I used to have pride and love for the city I grew up in. Now, it was tainted with disgust.

He was just a boy. A boy with a mild temper and a gentle demeanor. A boy, who my not have had the most polite table manners or etiquette, but a love for lamb stew. A boy who had likes and dislikes, people who he cared for and who cared for him. A boy who was so full of life until this moment.

My mind cringed at the thought of what happened. The wide-eyed fear on his expression as he saw his fate. His helpless screams as his knife collided with the ground and his opponent's seared into his body with a deathly squish. His agonizing cries as his adversary continued to decimate his already mutilated body. The congealed blood that formed a malicious puddle around his poor body.

Then there was the girl. Her shrill cries echoed in my head as I recalled the final moments of her life. The axe that bore into her skull, exposing a copious amount of blood. The way her eyes rolled into her head before she collapsed into a lifeless heap. But this death was not significant. No, all around her people were killing and dying, so that her's passed by without notice.

It was barbaric. No matter how hard I tried, I could not erase it nor could I paint it in a better light. It was monstrous and I was instrumental in it.

"District 12," the guard grunted, opening the iron door that led out of the viewing room.

His expression was stoic, impassive, uncaring. He had seen the horror, just as I had, though he shared none of the grief. He was whom I used to be someone who saw this institution as nothing more than a show. He was blind, and therefore blissful. But, of course, he had none of the guilt that I felt.

He had not become an escort what I thought was the career of a lifetime. He had not dressed and paraded those children like a butcher to a steak he was about to cut. No, that was me. I was wretched.

Silently, Haymitch and I went up the stairs. He too wore an expressionless mask, but unlike the guard I could see past it to the carefully hidden pain, remorse, and empathy. I couldn't understand how he kept his emotions inside, when he clearly felt it deep, while I was a shaking-sobbing mess. I suppose he was used to it after all these years.

When we reached our floor, Haymitch did what he did best and ordered some liquor to his room. My mind, consumed in its agitation and pain, could not even mentally criticize this action or look at him with contempt. I was no better than he was.

He turned to leave me, and I panicked. I did not know how I would fare in this state. I was afraid and disoriented and just did not want to be alone. I had loathed Haymitch from the moment I met him, but right now he was all I had.

"H-Haymitch," I pleaded, my voice shaking through the tears as I tightly gripped onto his wrist. "D-don't leave me, p-please." I could hear the raw desperation in my voice.

Inexplicably, but thankfully, he grunted, "c'mon," and toted me along to his room.

Haymitch's room was a disaster littered with clothes and broken bottles, and the smell it emitted was nauseating. But right now it was my safe haven, and Haymitch, my unexpected savior.

When he sat me on the bed, I was unable to control myself. I grabbed his shirt and let loose all the emotions I was feeling in the form of forceful tears. It was as if I hoped that they would make the pain leave my body, a penitent to what I had done.

Haymitch tenderly grasped me in an embrace, touching me not just physically. He didn't do more than hold me, but there was really nothing more he could do. Being in his arms…it made me feel like I wasn't alone.

I continued crying until the tears dried and refused to be released any longer. There just wasn't any point. It wouldn't change anything. My tears could not being back the lives I saw taken away. The lives that the place I called home and the people I called friends sentenced to die. I had never been so ashamed.

"I'm sorry," I apologized to Haymitch, my arms still around his neck. I couldn't bring myself to release them when I felt so comforted in his arms. I was grateful that he allowed me to stay, too. "That was aw-awful," I tried to explain. "How could they "

He cut me off, unceremoniously unwrapping my arms from his neck. I didn't understand why, and tried to plead for him back, but again he shushed me. He went over to the table where a tray full of bottles and shot glasses was. Of course, he wanted a drink. Of course.

I was surprised when he poured, not one, but two glasses of the clear liquid. He stuck one in my hand before downing his own and pouring another. I hesitated.

I wasn't a big drinker and I definitely never had anything this strong. I had looked down on people who had consumed, not so that they had a pleasant bliss, but to the point where they no longer had control of themselves. A martini or a cocktail to give you a light buzz, that was what I liked, not Vodka, as I read the label on the bottle.

But I took the glass anyway and downed its contents, the slightly bitter burn sliding down my throat. I was sinking down to the level of Haymitch who I had always considered a drunken fool, even before I met him and saw him only on the television.

But Haymitch had been doing this longer than I had. He had witnessed and been aware of the horrific Hunger Games. He had felt the guilt and the pain and sorrow and if this was what he did to counteract it…well, I was willing to do whatever I could to not feel so damn cold anymore. I was desperate.

Once I started, I couldn't stop. Haymitch kept pouring shots and I kept accepting them ignoring the principles of moral convention that told me to stop. It was like an addiction that couldn't be quelled. The more I drank the more disoriented I became, though in a good way. Colors swirled, and my vision blurred. My mind was inconsistent so I was caught in between a state of delirious elation and confused catharsis.

Drinking was the solution to everything, I decided. I don't know how I ever lived without it. Haymitch never let on about the amazingness of this secret world. He must be brilliant to have figured it out. I mean he does this everyday, the entire day. He knows the right way to live. I should probably tell him this, I thought, and thank him for introducing it to me.

"Haymitch," I said, giggling madly. " I…. I have something to tell you."

"What," he said gruffly, his face brooding and sour.

The abruptness of his tone shocked me, just as I was taking a sip from my glass. Instead, I lifted my hands to cover my open mouth, dropping the glass so it spilled onto the bed before landing on the floor and shattering into tiny pieces.

"Great!" He yelled, thunderously. "Just great! What the hell did you do that for?"

I jumped back and yelled in surprise. But when I focused on his face, contorted murderously, I couldn't help but notice that his lip wiggled when he was angry. It was like a worm on his face. I laughed, and saw that this made him even angrier and the worm on his face wiggle again.

Between laughs, I said, "I'm sorry, Hay " but for some reason the rest of the name wouldn't form on my tongue. "Haymi? Hayme?" No, those weren't right either. I thought really hard, but I couldn't remember. Then I had the most brilliant idea. "Never mind! I'll call you Hayme!"

Hayme. What a great name. It just rolled off the tongue. Everyone's name should be Hayme! "Hay-me! Hay-me! Hay-me, Hay-me, Hay-me," I sang, loving the way it flowed off my tongue. "Hay-meeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Shut up, you blasted woman!" Hayme growled furiously, abruptly ending my song and causing me to gasp.

But then his lip did the wiggle thing again, and I felt better. "You're really grumpy, Hayme," I said, poking him in the chest before laughing again.

Hayme muttered something else, but I couldn't pay attention when there were more important things to think about. I just realized that grumpy rhymed with Hayme. Kind of. Either way it'd make a great song! "Hay-me, grumpy, Hay-me, grumpy," I sang, practicing for when I would sing it for the Capitol and become the newest sensation.

"Shut up!" Haymitch yelled at me.

It caused me to stop the singing for a moment, but I wanted to continue. It was a really good song! But I remembered what Haymitch had done for me and I didn't want to make him too upset with me. That reminded me, I still needed to thank him for this.

"Okay," I agreed. "But I still have to tell you something…remember? Remember? Remember?"
Hayme swallowed a gulp of liquor before saying, "just spit it out."

I wanted to tell him in a way that would mean something. Not just a 'thank you' but also something personal. That way he would remember how important it was what he did for me. How lucky I was to have him at this time. Luck! That was it!

"May the, ummm, chances be, umm…good?" No, that wasn't what I meant to say. It was catchier, more infectious than that. I say it all the time! The alcohol was clouding my mind, preventing me from seeing back to my habits. "Damn it! I said. "What is I always say when…when…."

Suddenly a thunderbolt pierced through that cloud and revitalized my senses. The daze and the mental bliss were gone. I remembered what I had done and why I was here. May the odds be ever in your favor. It's what I said before I collected the children who had to go to that awful arena.

A cold wave swept through my body, a tear fell to play on my lashes. "It's my fault," I whispered.

"No, it's not," Haymitch said, his voice low, but ridden with empathy and pity.

He touched my face lightly, his hand shaking slightly as he wiped away a tear. I couldn't help myself from leaning into the warmth and comfort of his hand, closing my eyes and really reveling in it.

When I reopened my eyes, Haymitch's face was closer than I expected. I was immediately drawn to his hazel eyes, a beautiful swirl of green and brown that pierced through me. His brown hair fell long and shaggy and his facial hair was unkempt. What I once thought was grimy and unattractive, I now found sexy.

The longer I looked at him, the more our breaths intermingled, the stronger my desire for him became. It was almost unbearable, the heat that gathered in my stomach and threatened to combust. I wanted him. No, I needed him.

"Haymitch," I said, throatily, biting my lip.

It was a relief when he pulled my face to meet his, forcefully ravaging my lips. I kissed him back with vigor, moving myself closer to him so that I was almost sitting on top of him. I wrapped my legs around his hips, increasing the friction and the heat, and heard him growl in satisfaction.

I gasped as he began to kiss my neck, biting and licking forming little love bites. "Haymitch," I moaned, passionately.

Where am I?

My eyes fluttered awake, but my surroundings were alien. I tried to gather my bearings and focus in on something familiar, but for some reason I was pinned to the bed. I racked my mind for some memory of what happened last night, but there was a large blur where the scenes should be.

There was a loud snore that broke me out of my spell. I looked through my peripheral to see that I was lying next to a man. Not any man, but Haymitch Abernathy. And…we were both naked.

Oh my god. My mind was in a mental frenzy as I took in the circumstance. What had I done last night? What could have possibly sent me down a path of mental stupidity that I would sleep with Haymitch Abernathy?

I was Effie Trinket! How could I sink to the level of Haymitch Abernathy! No one had better find out about this! I would be ruined! Worse than ruined, I would be disgraced.

To be disgraced in the Capitol was a fate I would not wish on my worst enemy. You might as well be living in one of the districts. You wouldn't be invited to any parties, no one would socialize with you, and your name would be a dark secret on people's lips. I couldn't bear if that happened to me.

Then there was my career to think about. I had dreamed of being an escort ever since I was a little girl. I was good at it, too. I was organized and kept everyone on schedule. If I wasn't an escort, what else could I possibly be?

That's the reason why when I regained my memories of what I watched last night, what happened to the girl and boy, I stored it away in a neat little box never to be reopened. Along with it, I put all the feelings that I had felt for Haymitch. Effie Trinket was not that girl, and she would never be again.

I disentangled myself from Haymitch's arms, taking care not to wake him. I had hoped that my clothes would be in a neat pile on the ground, or at least somewhere near. But it was nowhere to be found.

My eyes glued to the floor, as to not step on anything incriminating, I scoured the room. It was absolutely disgusting, I could not understand how anyone could find anything, let alone live in this habitat. But in between the filth and the mess I found stray articles of clothes my underwear, a shoe, a lacy bra, and finally my dress.

"Going somewhere, sweetheart?"

Haymitch's voice suddenly jumped at me, causing me to scream and turn back. He was lounging languidly on the bed, displaying all of his nakedness. Trying not show my insecurity, I looked anywhere but him and complained.

"Haymitch, your room is filthy!" I tsked. "I can't find anything!"

He raised his eyebrows with an irritating smile. "From last night I was under the impression that you liked things…. dirty."

I mentally shuddered. What had I done with this man? And the fact that he said something like that to my face…. "Your tact is abysmal," I criticized, as I picked up my dress from the ground and put it on. "Just like the rest of your low life district."

He wasn't perturbed. "You didn't seem to mind my tact when you were "

"Haymitch!" I stopped him. I didn't need to hear anything that my mind had thankfully removed from my recollection. "Last night was just a brief lapse of judgment never to be repeated.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem to understand that I did not want to talk to him or associate with him in any manner. All I wanted to do was leave with at least some of my dignity. But he came off the bed and sauntered over toward me.

"I don't think it was the alcohol that made you find me attractive," he said, his voice low and gruff. He was so close that I could feel his breath on my mouth.

The sound of it made my knees weak, but I tried to stand strong. "Y-y-yes it," before I could mentally chastise my inability to function in this proximity of him, he grabbed my waist and pressed his lips against mine. I wanted nothing more than to sink into the kiss, it was so delicious, but I screamed in indignation and pushed him away. "Haymitch!" I admonished, as I straightened my dress. "Now, breakfast is in ten minutes, and then you need to be on a train back to District 12 by midday. Don't be late!"

I didn't stay a second longer than was necessary, before exiting the room, closing the door behind me. I paused for a moment, glancing behind the door. I would be forever indebted to Haymitch for getting me through my first Hunger Games. The spiritual catharsis I experienced last night brought me close to Haymitch in ways I couldn't ever forget. A part of me wanted to return to the room, gather him in my arms, and never leave.

But with a sigh, I turned away. I walked down the hall and with each step I became the Effie Trinket that I was supposed to be.

A/N: I hope you liked it! Review!