Myocardial Infarction: a sudden and sometimes fatal occurrence of coronary thrombosis.

"Disappointed I'm not dead, sweetheart?"

She could kill him right now, really she could. Or kiss him, but she pushed that possibility away before it could create a highly unfortunate choice. "I wanted nothing of the sort."

"So you would miss me." The man was in the hospital on doctor-ordered bedrest and paler than she'd ever seen him. How could he still manage to be so infuriating? Or, more importantly, how had she become such a terrible person that she wanted to throttle a man who'd had a heart attack not twenty-four hours prior?

"I was just worried about what it would do to Katniss and Peeta, with a baby on the way and all."

Haymitch gave her that little smirk-smile that she always wanted to wipe off his face with her fist. "Just admit it, sweetheart. We both know you love me."

"You almost died seventeen hours ago. You have no right to be this infuriating again already." She had picked her new manicure to pieces worrying about him on the train ride over here. He could have at least bothered to say hello when she walked in the door. But no, she couldn't expect a little bit of dignity or manners when it came to Haymitch Abernathy, could she?

He could have died. She knew that, of course, she'd worried about it the entire way here, but only now, sitting in Twelve's antiseptic white hospital with him did she realize just what that would have meant. Each and every one of Effie's organs seemed to flip themselves upside down at the thought. She had to force herself to keep breathing. Neither Peeta and Katniss nor the hospital staff would want to deal with a case of hysterics.

"Still here, Trinket?"

Belatedly, she realized that she'd missed whatever he'd said. "Of course. I didn't come all the way out here for nothing."

"I was just saying that I always thought it'd be my liver that got me." In that moment, Haymitch looked so much older than she'd ever seen him. Defeated.

"That does seem like a reasonable assumption." Come on, Haymitch, you've still got some fight left in you. Don't leave me all alone here.

"Yeah." He paused for a moment, and for once, she didn't feel any need to fill the silence between them with insults. "Y'know, almost dying's made me think a lot."

About what? "Well, that's quite a change."

One edge of his mouth quirked up at that. "I've been thinking how I've been all alone for so damn long, and how that ain't gonna end if I don't change something."

You always have me. She didn't say anything, though, just reached out and patted his hand. "You're tired, Haymitch, and you need rest. We can talk more when you're feeling better."

"That suggests that there will be a time that I feel better."

There had to be some serious pain meds in his system right now; he'd never remember the kiss she pressed to his forehead as she pushed him down further into his bed. At least, that's what she told herself. "I'll come see you tomorrow. We'll see how you feel then." Effie lowered the lights and smiled at him one last time as she left the room, closing the door behind her. No matter what the man said, he really did need his rest.

His words were muffled by the door, but she could still make them out clearly. "Told you you liked me."

A/N: This will be a collection of seven oneshots, each centered around a different Hunger Games relationship and a definition for the Shipping Week challenge on Caesar's Palace.