This piece is mainly Effie/Haymitch with explorations into Effie's past. I've always felt that there is/was so much more to Effie's character and I tried my best to flesh her out. It's about them starting to recover from the effects of the war, learning to accept support and finding comfort in each other. I'm not sure if it's considered a slow burn but I'm going to be calling it that anyway.

There's a bit of background Peeta/Katniss too.

My sister was my only proofreader, so if you see any spelling mistakes or missing words please tell me! Also, I wasn't sure if any of the warnings applied but if you find that they do, please message me and I'll change it :)

Enjoy! :)

Effie steps off of the train, her sandaled feet softly meeting the concrete floor, and gazes out at District Twelve. Her pale pink sundress ripples in the summer breeze as she tilts her head towards the sinking sun, basking her bare face in warmth. She tells herself that she came here on a whim but the two perfectly packed bags clenched tightly in her hands say otherwise.

Peeta mentioned a few weeks ago that the small population in the district were planning some festivities in order to celebrate the Summer Solstice and she found herself wishing she was with them in District Twelve rather than sitting in her modern apartment in the Capitol. So she came. Spontaneously. On a whim. Yes, she tells herself, it's pure coincidence that she turns up on the day of the festival.

She doesn't know where to go first. She wants to put her bags down in Victor's Village but she's sure the party is in full swing now, if the relatively loud music coming from the main square is anything to go by. So she makes her way towards the music, her bags knocking her calves and shins as she hurries down the cobbled road leading to the square. She's silently hoping that they wouldn't mind accommodating her, despite being completely uninvited, and she falters for a moment, remembering how rude it is to just show up. But she so desperately wants to see Peeta and Katniss and Haymitch.

Haymitch.

She sees him. She sees him on the edge of the crowd, chatting to a red headed beauty, his flask grasped loosely in one hand while the other is gesturing along with his words. He looks happy, relaxed even, and she freezes on the spot as her heart clenches. She's seen Haymitch in all sorts of states over the years, but not like this. Never like this. And especially not around her.

The music and dancing and people are all too much and Effie wants to turn away, especially at the sight of them, to tell herself that this was a big mistake, that their weekly phone calls didn't mean anything to her, that she's not at all affected by what's happening before her eyes. Just as she takes her first step back in the direction of the station she hears her name from behind.

"Effie? Effie is that you?"

Peeta is striding over to her, arms outstretched with a wide smile on his face.

"Peeta!" she calls, her voice filled with delight, "Peeta how very good to see you!"

She embraces him tightly, thankful for the fact that he has more or less recovered from the hijacking.

"I almost didn't recognise you," he begins when they pull away. 'Without your wig and makeup' goes unspoken.

"Yes yes," she beams, a little self-conscious,"This is me now!"

As though picking up on her discomfort, he grins and says, "You look beautiful. Really Effie,"

She flushes but before she can get another word in, he eyes her bags and asks, "So are you staying?"

"I… Well," she glances at Haymitch briefly, who's chucking about something with the woman, and forces a smile, "No, darling, no I'm not,"

He looks puzzled, "Then why have you brought all these bags? And you do know that the last train just left, right?"

Thankfully, Peeta mistakes the alarm in her eyes for panic for missing the last train rather than panic for being called out and smiles, "You can stay the night Effie. Don't worry about it. I'm not sure if Katniss and I are… Safe enough to share a house with but I'm sure Haymitch will take you,"

Haymitch.

She gazes at him, his face flushed with laughter while the giggling woman gently rests a hand on his arm, and she feels her stomach tighten. Apparently her expression has given her away because Peeta glances at him too before suggesting, "Or maybe Katniss and I can share a house and you can take one of ours,"

"You're too generous," she cracks another wide smile that all her muscles scream is fake, "No I'll be quite alright in a hotel… Does Twelve have hotels? Or maybe an inn or something? Don't you worry about me darling,"

She's slowly backing away, her body moving on its own, and before Peeta can call out a warning, she stumbles backwards into a man, causing his glass to fall and shatter loudly on the street. She feels everyone's eyes on her as she apologises profusely to the man and when she turns her head back, her eyes connect with Haymitch's. Her heart is hammering in her chest and she can feel her palms get sweaty as she tightens the grip on her bags. He looks surprised but she can't tell if it's a good surprised or a bad surprised. She doesn't know what to do. So she runs.

Effie hears Peeta shouting for her and she thinks, she thinks she hears Haymitch's voice too, but she's running at top speed, not caring if it's ladylike or not, her sandals slapping loudly on the street and her legs colliding with her bags with every step she takes. She doesn't know which direction she's heading in but she knows it's definitely away from the party and away from him, and that's good enough for her. Her lungs are screaming for more air and her muscles are begging for rest but she just runs and runs and runs and she feels the change in texture under her feet from stone to grass.

She still hurtling along when she trips on a stone and goes sprawling onto the soft grass, her bags flying out of her hands. She groans as she attempts to push herself up but it dawns on her where she is. The Meadow. The mass grave that holds the bodies of the citizens of Twelve. She tries to steady her breathing but the fact that she's been running doesn't help her erratic breaths. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to chase away all of the faces of all the children she picked, she picked, and sent to their deaths. The face of a bright eyed, twelve year old who didn't last a minute in the Arena flashes before her and she feels like throwing up. Everything feels fuzzy and her trembling arms are barely holding her up. She feels the dead mothers and fathers and siblings calling out to her from the ground below. Why did you do it Effie? Why did you take them away from us? They're all dead. And now we're all dead too.

She hears a terrified scream and she panics because people shouldn't be screaming anymore. People shouldn't be in danger. People shouldn't be hurt. The screams don't stop and it isn't until her throat feels like it's being ripped apart that she realises that they're coming from her. She feels warm hands grasp her shoulders and she's so confused because dead people shouldn't be warm. They're never warm when they bring the bodies back. They're never warm when she holds their hands and weeps silently before the coffins are nailed shut and sent back to the district.

She hears a voice, distant and familiar, calling her name. She recognises the low, gravelly voice calling out to her and she feels fear rise in her throat because she shouldn't be hearing that voice because he isn't dead. He shouldn't be dead. Unless The Capitol has got him. Unless The Capitol has got him.

"I don't know anything!" she screeches desperately, tears streaming down her face, "I don't know anything! I wasn't told anything! Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him!"

She's vaguely aware that she's being picked up and she screams again because she doesn't want to go where they're taking her. They never take her to nice places. They always smelled of blood. Then she feels cold. And then warmth. And then softness. And nothing makes sense because this feels safe and comforting and nothing like where they usually drag her to. And then there's darkness.