This was supposed to be updated yesterday but I got stranded.

Chapter 14

Haymitch woke up before he could die in his nightmare.

His chest rose and fell rapidly with each heavy breath that he took. His grey eyes darted around the room, pupils blown wide open.

He could still feel the pressure of the gun against his temple and Annie's shaking hand as she held it to his head under Fox's order.

Haymitch swallowed and ran a hand over his face, his palm coming off wet with perspiration. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a figure.

He frowned at the sight of her.

Why was she always here?

She had been telling him that he was safe, that Annie and Johanna were safe. She told him that Peeta was receiving the best care but he knew she was lying.

She had to be lying.

She came for him night after night with bloodied hands, demanding that he admit responsibility and that he should shoulder the burden for her death. She couldn't tell him that he was safe and that she wasn't going to hurt him when she made him feel otherwise each time he closed his eyes.

He didn't know what she was; if she was real or one of his nightmares. Her face kept morphing. At times, half of it was gone from the shrapnel wound but there were times when she stood in front of him, whole and solid.

Her head was wrapped in a piece of cloth, not the usual wig she often sported, but something entirely different. He had never seen her like this. He had, of course, searched his memories of a time when she did dress that way. That memory did not exist which meant, she couldn't be real.

He wanted to ask her to take it off but he worried about what he might find or what it was trying to hide. There could be horrors there that he did not want to confront. What if she showed him half of her head blown off? Or her scalp gone? Or her hair burnt from the bombing?

For a stressful minute, he watched her from where he was. She was asleep, curled on the arm chair and didn't seem at all threatening to him.

Haymitch swung his legs over the bed and stepped towards her. He gave her a light push. Still, she remained sleeping. He poked her again, roughly this time.

"See," her voice sliced through the silence, startling him. "You can touch me. I am very real, am I not?"

Annoyed that he was caught, he muttered an indiscernible 'go away' and retreated back to his bed.

"It's only six in the morning. Are you awake because you're in pain?"

"Shut up," he mumbled. "Just shut up."

"I'll have you know that's very rude of you," she pursed her lips.

He raised his head and stared. Each time she called him out on his manners, it left him feeling confused because when she did that, she sounded like the Effie he knew.

Giving his head a slight shake, he tore his gaze away and went back to the three-dimensional labyrinth Beetee had created for him. He needed to solve it and find a way out, and when he was done, he would then set the maze for Beetee to solve.

"Are you any closer to a way out?" she asked, peering at his board.

He huffed in irritation because he was in the habit of ignoring her at every turn and she was adamant on conversing with him at each given opportunity. He didn't want to talk to her, not when he couldn't tell with certainty if she was there with him or just a trick of his mind.

"Don't talk to her," he mumbled. "Don't talk to her. She's not real. You're imagining her. It's in your head – "

"If I'm not real then maybe that labyrinth isn't either. Maybe this hospital – "

"- just like the walls closing in on you. Just like the ants. Stop. Don't look at her."

"- is just another thing from your hallucination. Can't you see that -"

He froze. His entire body went rigid. He abandoned the labyrinth and walked over towards the wall, his hand feeling the surface.

"I've let my mouth run. Haymitch, I'm sorry," she stood in front of him, anguish and guilt written on her face. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I - I don't know what I was... I need to be more patient," she said but he thought it might be for her own benefit. "You're here. You're really here. Beetee made that for you. I can confirm it."

She guided his hand to the wooden maze to let him touch it and he felt the wood a little rough under the pad of his thumb. He would have sandpapered it and made it smooth so nothing would splinter the fingers. He had been good at that - woodworking.

"I'm trying," he said, surprising himself at the admission, "to make sense of... to make sense."

Her gaze softened. It made him uncomfortable enough that he looked away. She was looking at him like she knew him, everything there was to know about him, when he wasn't even sure about her.

"I know you are," Effie nodded. "I know there are things that are more grounded to you than others. I just… I just want to know why it's more difficult for you to believe when it comes to me."

His brows furrowed together. "I wanted you to be real when I was in … In prison. Then I heard you died. They led me to believe you were dead in the bombing. I didn't want that to be real but I kept picturin' it and -" he inhaled sharply." I don't want to fucking talk 'bout this."

"You thought about me often?" she asked, taking a step closer towards me. "Oh, Haymitch."

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, let's put that to rest for now. Can we talk about the IV?"

"No," he snapped. "I am not Peeta."

"You're right you're not but the nurses need to give you medication through it and they can't do that if you keep pulling and ripping it off. You're not eating either. You can't have solid food without being sick so you need the IV for – "

"I said no!" Haymitch snarled. "First you'll put the needle in me and then you're going to make me watch my Games. I've seen it before."

He didn't trust the people here. Effie and everyone else kept saying that he was in District Thirteen and he was slowly trying to wrap his head around the fact but he was wary. He was being cautious. It was self-preservation, especially when he already felt as helpless as he was. He refused to let them do to him as they pleased.

"It's not like -" Effie heaved a breath. "Haymitch, you're not in the Capitol anymore. You're not in prison. You are out of that horrible place."

He sneered.

It was easy for her to say when she wasn't the one haunted each night by images of Fox standing over him with his boot on his throat, having needles in his fingers and his nail slowly pulled out. His two fingers were still in pain and the nerve damage in one finger where the needle had went through made it bent awkwardly. He was the one who had to live with the crushing sense of being powerless and trapped, and unable to help those who depended on him.

Not her.

The prison in the Capitol was just another arena to him. He would never truly be free of that place no matter what Effie Trinket said.

"Please, Haymitch, let the doctors - "

The door opened with a loud bang. Johanna Mason walked in and glanced in her direction.

"Trinket," Johanna acknowledged her presence. "Having trouble?"

"Yes," Effie sighed.

His brows knitted together as he glared at the scene unfolding before him. Johanna had visited him before but they had not talked much. If he recalled, Annie had wheeled her in just to assure her that he was alive but he was under the influence of medication to properly hold a conversation with anyone at that time.

"You can see her?" he asked, jerking his head at Effie.

"Yeah, sure I can, harebrained. Wouldn't be talking to her if I can't see her," she rolled her eyes. "Annie told me you're having trouble telling the difference. You think I'm not real?"

"I don't know," Haymitch shrugged.

Johanna sat perched at the edge of his bed and raised her hand to touch the swell on his cheek. He flinched and moved his head away, glaring at her.

"Pain is real," Johanna told him. "Fox fractured your face, right? You know what helps with the pain? Morphling. So let them hook the damn IV on you, Haymitch. Help me out a bit, yeah?"

"Johanna!" Effie hissed. "That is really not the way to get him to agree. You shouldn't be out of bed. Where is Finnick? He is supposed to keep a look out for you."

"I don't need a guard," Johanna's lips curled into a sneer. "You're starting to sound like Annie. She tells me that each time I tried to leave."

"She knows what she is talking about and you would do well listen to her."

"Shut up, Trinket. You saw Peeta yet, Haymitch? He's a downright mess, I heard, tried to kill Katniss and all that. So... you know what we saw back in that room? Those were tracker jacker venom. Who'd have thought?"

"You saw Peeta?" Haymitch blinked slowly and tilted his head. "Fox has never let us see – "

"For fuck's sake, Haymitch, Trinket's been trying to tell you we're in Thirteen. Fox's not here and fucking good riddance, too."

"Katniss," his breathed. "If she's here, I should see her, talk to her."

"Perhaps later, Haymitch," Effie told him. "You will have time to explain to her what happened in the arena."

Johanna gave a derisive chuckle. "You all treat her like a fucking baby. Move, Trinket, let me have the sofa."

Clicking her tongue in disapproval at Johanna's behaviour, Effie stood up. He held his breath as he trained his eyes on her, watching where she would go. She glanced around and found no other chairs to sit on so she stood at the foot of his bed. He released a breath, partly relieved that he didn't have to be so close to her if she were to sit at the edge of his bed like Johanna had moments ago.

His mind was in state of confusion. As much as he wanted her and the fact that he was in Thirteen to be real, hope was still a dangerous thing, and he was careful with how much hope he allowed himself to have at the moment.

"Go do something else, Trinket. Baby Katniss why don't you? He's not going to change his mind about you today. Still can't believe you're not dead, right? You might as well go sit with your precious bird."

He witnessed the hesitation played across Effie's face, as if leaving him alone with Johanna was not something she wanted. It made him paused. He could trust Johanna though, couldn't he?

Haymitch gritted his teeth as memories of the prison resurfaced. He had witnessed what Fox had done to Johanna. They had been through hell together. He had Johanna's back and she did too.

"I could use a break from you," he told Effie honestly, and Johanna gave a bark of laughter.

A small smile graced Effie's lips and she shook her head. "I am mildly surprised because that did not sound mean or insulting like I expected it to be."

He shrugged.

"You're right. I should let you two spend some time together. I'll come back again tonight."

Haymitch waited until she had closed the doors before he turned to Johanna.

"Help me out here, if we're not in the Capitol, the only reason I can't get a drink here is 'cause Thirteen doesn't allow it not because Fox is playing Games with. I've been controllin' my drinking since the Quell started to prepare myself for Thirteen…."

"Yeah, ditto."

Haymitch nodded, satisfied that the fact checked out.

"You know what? We're not going to sit here and talk," Johanna announced. "Knowing Trinket and the nurses, they've been telling you to stay put. So get up, Haymitch, we're going for a walk. Nothing to help you tell the difference between Capitol and Thirteen then a walk around the district, am I right?" she snickered.

She had a point, he thought, so Haymitch rose to his feet as Johanna pointed to the door handle.

"Go on. This isn't an automatic, old man, it's not going to open itself," she waved her hand.

He grumbled under his breath but pressed the handle and pushed the door open.

"Will you look at that?" Johanna exclaimed in mocked surprised. "It fucking opens and you can even walk right out. Not like Fox would ever leave the door unlocked for us."

"Shut up, Jo," he muttered though it was good to know that her torture had not affected her snarky attitude.

This was the first time he was out of his hospital room. He took in his surroundings; the nurses at their terminals and stations, the nurses standing over their patients, a man in a wheelchair rolling past him and a few teenagers in school shadowing a nurse as they learn.

"Prim?" Haymitch called out.

The girl turned and her face split into a smile.

"Haymitch!"

She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. It took him by surprise and he patted her back awkwardly.

"You made it out," he said. "The fire in Twelve … How? Who else survived? Were there others?"

"Mum and the Hawthornes are here, and a few hundreds of us from home. When the Capitol came, Gale took us to the woods to hide. Thirteen sent their hovercrafts for us after that to bring us here. The others... They didn't make it."

"Peeta's family?"

Prim shook her head and then changed the subject. "How are you doing?"

"Better," he shrugged. "What are you doing in the hospital? Are you here for Katniss?"

"I'm training to be a doctor," she told him proudly.

"So you're the famous Prim, huh?" Johanna studied her. "Heard a lot about you."

Prim smiled but the meeting was cut short when she was called back to join the rest of her small class.

It was a struggle, he thought, to piece it all back together and draw a line between events. This - talking to Primrose, watching her learn and witnessing the scenes in the hospital - could not be something that his mind conjured up. Except, a small voice nagged, his mind had came up with vivid and terrible things before.

"How long have we been here?" he asked. "You remember getting here? I - I thought someone had given me..."

His gaze fell on his wrist, at the gold glinting under the light. Someone had mentioned Effie's name...

"I was knocked out when the rescue happened. You'd think they'd come and get us sooner but they were waiting for your girl to break. Word was Katniss lost it. Your escort and the other victors pushed for the rescue. Guess you're right after all, Trinket's got her uses."

"Haymitch! Is that really you?"

He turned at the sound of a familiar voice and soon had his arm around a petite young woman.

"I'm so glad to see you up and walking. Each time I visited with Finnick, you were either asleep or sedated. You must be feeling better or," she narrowed her eyes at Johanna, "Johanna dragged you out of bed."

"I'm doing him some good," Johanna shot back.

"Annie," Haymitch gave a genuine smile before pulling back from the hug to look at her properly.

Like Johanna, she was still skinny. The hospital gown hung off her but there was a sparkle in her eyes that was missing in prison. Behind her, Finnick stood tall, grinning at Haymitch.

"You missed me?" Finnick winked.

The light-hearted banter was familiar. It worked in making him feel a little relaxed. He clasped Finnick's shoulder but the young man would have none of that and pulled him into a hug.

"Good to have you back, Haymitch."

XxX

After his experience that afternoon, he was ready to allow himself to believe that Thirteen had really rescued them. He had not seen a single Peacekeeper here and he had counted eight hours and forty three minutes without a visit or a beating from Fox.

Fox is not here. He ain't coming for you. This is District Thirteen. The revolution is underway.

Outside of his room, the hospital was quiet, broken only by the occasional low murmur of the nurses as they passed which meant that Haymitch heard her footsteps long before she entered his room.

"Oh, I thought you'd be asleep."

She sounded surprise to see him half siting on his bed. He was waiting for her. She told him she would be back so he waited.

"You gave this to me," he stated, raising his hand to show the gold bangle on his wrist.

Effie stepped closer. "I did, yes."

"The first time was the Penthouse," he told her confidently, "and then I gave it to Finnick for the Games. You... Someone gave this to me in prison."

"It was Soldier Boggs. He agreed to take it with him," Effie explained.

"I thought it was taken from you," he told her. "I thought you were dead and they had taken it from you. I thought it was being used against me... to make me..."

"No, Haymitch, it wasn't like that at all. I gave it to Boggs in case... I wanted to be there during the rescue so that you and the others will have a familiar face... So that you'll go with us easily but President Coin wouldn't allow it. I needed a substitute. I didn't know it would cause you such distress. I'm sorry. "

"Those things did happen – you giving me the bangle, me giving it to Finnick and then the prison…" he muttered to himself and slowly, he said, "You're here with me."

"Yes, yes," Effie smiled, her lips stretching to reach her eyes and he thought she might cry.

He shifted in his bed, uncomfortable but to her credit, she didn't.

"Why do you look so different?" he frowned taking in the grey clothes. Effie Trinket was always decked in colours. "Are you wearing Finnick's clothes? I saw Finnick in it."

"If that's the case, it would seem that I have picked up a habit of wearing Plutarch's and Beetee's clothes. You have seen them in it too, haven't you?"

His eyes flashed and his fingers curled over the bed sheet.

"It's a uniform. You wouldn't believe it, Haymitch," she huffed, "but when we arrived, we were given uniform and it was absolutely dreadful. They want everyone dressed the same way - how preposterous - but I am resourceful. Why, of course, I am, so I had to do something. I made it better."

Haymitch sat there, staring at her as she turned around, showing her back to him. She had sown two blouses together.

Everything that just came out of her mouth and the fact that she modified a plain looking uniform to make it fashionable while she was in the middle of a war was ridiculous but it was so...

Effie.

That's Effie right there.

He swallowed and the words came easily to him as if he had done it a thousand times before.

"Still ugly," he commented.

It made her laugh. It made her lips curled upwards and the corners of her eyes to crinkle.

"I thought you might say something like that. I would be very worried if you didn't insult my wardrobe and let me tell you, I have more than enough things on hand to worry about."

Haymitch snorted, letting his eyes travelled up and then he pointed, "That thing on your head?"

"I couldn't very well be walking around this place with nothing to cover my hair. How terrible…"

"Take it off," he requested. "I want to see you."

Just like she had done when Johanna told her to leave, Effie hesitated. He was certain she would refuse him. Instead, she took a step closer and perched herself on the side of his bed. The bed dipped and his fingers that were inches away from her thigh twitched. He could feel her warmth and there was no way he could possibly be hallucinating that.

"Would you like to do it? That way -"

"- I'll know you're here," he finished the sentence and she hummed in agreement.

His mouth was dry and he swallowed forcefully. He had done this before. He had taken off her wigs before. This was no different. It shouldn't be any different but somehow, to him, it bore a heavier consequence.

He needed everything to be true; conversing with her, seeing her asleep on the armchair, waking up in a hospital to see her in the room most of the time. If this was all a dream and he was still in prison under Fox's control, he didn't know if had it in him to continue fighting.

His hand rose and it hovered inches from the knot. He watched her just as she was watching him. Effie made no move to assist or guide him. She was letting him set the pace and be in control. She was showing him that she trusted him.

"Was Thirteen bombed?"

"It was. We were bombed for days," Effie answered. "But Peeta saved us all. His warning helped everyone to be evacuated in time. Everyone here... They owed him their lives, Haymitch. What did they do to him for that warning? We saw blood before the cameras were -"

The memory resurfaced in his mind - him watching the interview, Peeta crying out a warning and getting beaten, them being forced down on the floor by Peacekeepers. Haymitch gritted his teeth and forced the images away.

Instead of answering her question, he asked, breaths trembling, "Were you hurt?"

His face was impassive even if the tremors which made his hands unsteady annoyed him. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with the knot on Effie's scarf. Still, Effie's hand remained firmly in her lap and with it, his ego intact.

"I wasn't," she assured him. "I was just terrified that I would die buried underground."

"But you didn't," a question and a statement rolled into one.

"I didn't," Effie confirmed with a smile. "I'm here."

"Okay."

"Did they – Did they tell you I was dead, Haymitch? Was that why you believed so firmly that - "

His finger gave a little tug and the knot came undone. Her hand immediately flew to her head to hold the cloth in place, her fingers brushing against his. He resisted the urge to pull his hand away. Her smile was sheepish when she let her hand fall back to her lap.

"I heard the planes flew out from where I was held. I saw the bombings from a live feed on the plane's camera. I heard news of the destruction. After the arena exploded, they made me watched Twelve burnt and I - I confused the two... To me, the extent of the destruction in Twelve and Thirteen was the same. They were drying me out, I was delirious and... I couldn't think well..." he trailed off.

Gently, he pulled the cloth away and spread it out before him. His eyes narrowed.

"It's a map," he noted, studying the schematic and clusters.

"It is," she nodded, "a map of District Thirteen. It's supposed to help you find your way through the maze of hallways here."

"I was tortured over a map," he told her and raised the bandaged hand. "Got this because of it. Did you know what he did to my fingers, sweetheart?"

"Who, Haymitch? Who hurt you?"

"Fox."

He raised his head just then and stared at her. He blinked slowly, his eyes darting all over her face at the sight of her blonde hair now free from its restraint. In a semi-unconscious act, Haymitch brushed a finger against her hair and curled a lock around it.

"You came to me every night," he told her. "You look horrible."

Effie bit her lip. Something jolted in him when he realized that she misunderstood him.

"No, no," he growled, frustrated with himself. "In – In the nightmares… You look terrible in them. Your face was -"

He broke off, not wanting to describe the Effie that haunted him. Leaning forward slightly, he brought a lock of hair up to his nose and gave it a sniff.

"You smell different."

"I would imagine so with the cheap soap and cheap shampoo. I know we're in a war and I am lucky to be alive as it is, but I do miss certain luxuries. Shampoo, conditioner... Coffee!"

He chuckled. "No coffee?"

"No!"

"No alcohol either. Fair's fair," he grinned only to end up wincing in pain.

"Try not to hurt your cheek," she patted his knee.

Haymitch trailed his hand down to her cheek and to the side of her neck. He felt her warm breath against his skin and the soft beating of her pulse where he had rested his thumb.

The words passed his lips, sure and steady, and relieved all at once.

"You're alive."