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Busy city lights and the distant, flashing glow of fireworks illuminated the night sky of the Capitol, causing the labyrinth of sprawling stone buildings to appear much brighter than usual. Festive. People were celebrating. Not them, though.
As she stepped out onto the roof of the Training Centre, Effie Trinket found who she was looking for. Haymitch Abernathy was facing away from her as he gazed out over the city, glass in hand. Not an unusual sight on a night like this. She approached him with caution, expecting to see that all too familiar scowl marking his weary face, but tonight his expression was remarkably neutral - almost resigned. That was unusual. She tried not to let it worry her too much, but the escort felt her stomach knotting uncomfortably regardless. In a long-perfected manner, she schooled her features into a similarly neutral expression… or at least, she tried to. Since her mask had begun slipping, she’d been finding it awfully difficult to compose herself as well as she usually might have.
A low voice brought Effie out of her troubling thoughts.
“Okay, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked without turning, having heard her approach.
She almost stumbled. “Fine, thank you,” she replied, far too quickly. After her tearful goodbyes to Katniss and Peeta earlier in the evening, she was keen to keep the subject away from herself and her feelings. She’d spent most of the night so far trying to calm back herself down. She had a sense that Haymitch already knew that, and she was glad when he didn’t press her.
“Strange night,” Effie murmured after a minute or two, joining him where he stood to look out at the world below. The lights were as pretty as always, but seeing them now just made her feel sad.
“Mm,” the older man hummed in agreement. He wasn’t much in the mood for small talk but he tried to give her the benefit of the doubt nonetheless. They’d all had a rough few days, he conceded. If he was honest with himself, ‘rough’ barely began to cover it, perhaps especially for Effie. As much as it annoyed him to admit it, he knew that she must be feeling as if her world was falling apart. Silly and late as it was for her to only now be realising such a thing, it must still hurt.
Effie took a deep breath, steeling herself, and turned to face him. “I have something for you.”
“Oh yeah? You’re spoiling me lately,” Haymitch teased, a grin slowly transforming his face. He turned to face her, and could see now that she was holding a hand behind her back. There was a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place. “Better not be another piece of jewellery,” he continued, “‘cos honestly princess, I don’t think I can pull all that off as well as you do.” He raised his wrist, showing her that he was wearing the flame bracelet she’d given him earlier that evening. His token, she’d said.
“Hush,” Effie instructed, rolling her eyes, but as always, she couldn’t stop a warm smile from spreading across her lips in response to his joking remark. She took a small step towards him. “Are you ready?”
Haymitch sighed, mock exasperated. It was just how she was, but honestly, didn’t she know him well enough by now not to bother with the preamble?
Effie raised her eyebrows at him, suddenly looking very stern. He decided to play along, too tired to start a battle of wills at this hour, let alone whilst sober. He downed the rest of his - unfortunately non-alcoholic - drink, placing the glass on the ledge before turning back to her.
“Ready,” he said, resignedly, unable to stop himself from shaking his head slightly at her ridiculousness.
Effie removed her hand from behind her back, producing a pale blue plant pot about the size of a coffee mug. Growing from the porcelain pot was a thin green stem, maybe five or six inches tall, its small branches covered with delicate white blossoms. It was pretty, Haymitch supposed, if you liked that kind of thing. Effie held the pot out to him, and he took it instinctively, trying to wrap his head around what was happening.
“It’s… a plant,” he stated blankly. “Why-”
Haymitch’s question was cut off as the petit woman leaned forwards, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek as she hurriedly embraced him. He frowned in confusion, utterly mystified, until she moved her lips to his ear.
“Happy birthday darling,” she whispered.
He was speechless.
Effie stepped back from him, a small smile tinged with sadness gracing her lips as she tried to gauge how all of this would be received. She knew that she was playing a risky game in more ways than one.
Haymitch blinked stupidly, completely taken aback. “How did… when…” He couldn’t get the question out, and despite her nerves, she couldn’t help but smirk a little.
“I take my job very seriously, you know - of course I did my research.”
“Of course…” he replied absently, the wheels still turning.
“I know it’s a little late…” Effie admitted. Wasn’t that an understatement. Her words trailed off as she watched him processing, her smile faltering as she grew anxious about his lack of reaction. “Look,” she began again, suddenly deciding that this might not have been such a good idea. “Just forget I said anything Haymitch, I just thought-”
“No,” he cut her off gruffly, still staring at the plant. “I mean,” he continued, voice gentler, “no, it’s okay.”
Haymitch’s grey eyes flicked back up to study Effie’s face, boring into hers so unflinchingly that she suddenly felt all too exposed. She wrapped her arms around herself, aiming, pointlessly, to somehow shield herself from the intensity of his gaze.
It was rare for anything much to take Haymitch Abernathy by surprise, but this? Shit. He didn’t think he could’ve ever seen this coming. He opened his mouth, willing his brain to put some words together.
“I… why?” It was the best his mind could do under the circumstances.
“Well I don’t know how these things work in Twelve, but…” Effie began, her wry smile returning as she allowed herself to enjoy the opportunity to tease him for once. It was a few fleeting seconds of relief from the silence surrounding this somewhat unfamiliar moment of vulnerability.
Haymitch rolled his eyes, the barest hint of a grin now playing at the corner of his lips too. “Don’t patronise me, sweetheart,” he shot back easily.
She regarded him with that practised look of exasperated fondness that he was starting to see more and more of recently. He raised an eyebrow, still waiting for an answer, but she dropped her gaze, looking at her hands as she suddenly became very interested in the tiny corner of nail polish missing from her index finger. She’d forgotten to put her gloves back on, he noticed.
“If you knew… for all this time…” Haymitch shook his head as he uttered a quiet, humourless laugh. Just when he thought he’d got Effie all figured out, she went and did something like this. The escort looked up, caught in the victor’s wolflike stare as he continued. “Why now?”
“It just… it never seemed appropriate… before,” she admitted haltingly.
That was part of it. Haymitch wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine at the best of times, never mind on Reaping Day. She thought she’d known why he hated it so much - his past wasn’t exactly a secret. Far from it, actually. He was the example. They all knew the gist. But to find out that, on top of everything else, the hideous day marred what was usually a time for celebration - a time for friends and family - for everybody else… truthfully she’d never dared to bring it up before.
“But now,” Effie continued after a deep and searching breath. “Now, everything is changing and I don’t know how long we-” she cut herself off. Force of habit. Never knew who might be listening. She fought to keep her focus locked on the man before her as his eyes flashed with a warning, but she already understood the need to watch herself. Even if it felt like nothing could possibly get any worse, she wasn’t quite naive enough to believe that anymore. If she’d learned anything from the past year, it was that she still had things in her life - people in her life - that she cared for. Deeply. Far too much to lose.
“I thought…” she continued carefully, “I thought that it was about time.” She clasped her hands together, waiting for his reaction as a thoughtful silence stretched out between them.
Haymitch considered the delicate specimen that looked so out of place in his scarred hands. The iridescent flowers almost looked like little birds, some of them flecked with pink on the tips of their elegant ‘wings’. He didn’t comment on it. She knew.
“I didn’t know you liked plants,” he replied eventually.
Effie laughed lightly at his statement, relief leaching some of the tension from her body. “Only sometimes,” she clarified. “I was given one like this by a friend, and somehow I… managed to keep it alive.” Her voice had grown serious once again and she paused. "Then one day, it sprouted something new.”
Haymitch fought the urge to meet Effie’s gaze again, continuing to instead focus on the flowers. She really had a certain determination that he couldn’t help but admire. The symbolism wasn’t lost on him, but he was steadfast in his decision not to mention any of that. The escort’s words were innocent enough to get away with it, but he couldn’t stop the tightness rising in his chest - she was definitely straying far too close to dangerous territory.
“Anyway, suddenly I had more than I knew what to do with,” she continued easily, watching the way Haymitch gently caressed the delicate flowers with his rough fingers. “Seemed fitting,” she forced her tone to stay light, “to give one to you.”
Haymitch raised his eyebrows. If he didn’t know better, he might’ve actually believed that this was all just an innocent chat about something trivial. She was getting remarkably good at this.
“It’s beautiful,” the mentor murmured, unsure if he was speaking to Effie or himself at this point. “Perfect.”
“Peristeria elata,” she told him.
Her words finally managed to break through his reverie. He looked back up, a sparkle of that familiar humour shining in his dark eyes as he smirked at the Capitol woman. “You’re gonna have to help me out with that one, princess.”
Effie smiled a little. “It’s an orchid,” she clarified.
“Ah,” Haymitch nodded in understanding, as if that meant anything at all to him.
"They used to be very rare, apparently. Back in the old days they called it the Holy Ghost orchid,” she explained, unable to stop herself from reaching out a fingertip to touch one of the fragile blossoms. “Nowadays it’s called a Dove orchid.”
The change in Haymitch was instant and unmissable, although Effie didn’t quite know what he was reacting to. She jumped a little in surprise as he sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles tensing immediately and knuckles growing white, grip tightening. After an initial moment of shock, she took the plant from him in a practised manner and reached around to place it down on a nearby table, trying to stay calm. She’d done the same countless times with various drinks, knowing it was better to remove them from the man’s grasp when his temper got the better of him - she wasn’t having him slice his hand open yet again. The escort turned back to the victor, maintaining a little distance, and unconsciously bracing herself for the outburst that usually followed this pattern of her colleague’s behaviour.
However, the seconds crawled by, and Effie found herself frowning up at Haymitch when no reaction came.
Her eyes found his face. She gasped.
The volatile, belligerent fighter that she’d expected to find was nowhere to be seen.
In his place stood a broken shell of a man.
Haymitch’s haunted grey eyes were wider than she’d ever seen, and to her horror, Effie noticed tears pooling there. His hands remained where they had been, now balled into fists as he stood frozen, mouth falling open as his tormented gaze fixed on something only he could see. A distant, long-buried memory.
“…Haymitch?”
Fast as lightning, his wild eyes shot back to the here and now.
Before Effie could even breathe, Haymitch took a stumbling step back, slumping slightly against the ledge behind him that bordered the roof. He hung his head and brought a hand up to cover his eyes. He turned away, making it pretty much impossible for her to see his face anymore, but she didn’t need to.
Effie steeled herself, taking a deep breath. She’d dealt with Haymitch Abernathy at his very worst so many times - blind drunk, covered in his own vomit, threatening, swearing, fighting - you name it, she’d seen it. But this? This was new. She found herself clenching her jaw. She’d spent a large part of the evening so far trying to hold herself together, and she was damned if she was going to let him fall apart too.
“Hey,” she whispered gently, stepping cautiously towards her old friend and slowly taking the hand he’d dropped to his side. He didn’t fight it. She rubbed her thumb back and forth across his calloused knuckles, heart clenching as the man before her sucked in a few ragged and shaky breaths. In all the years she’d known Haymitch, she’d never seen him quite like this.
“Oh, my dear man,” Effie murmured, her voice breaking slightly. Haymitch’s shoulders trembled and she placed her other hand on his chest in a calming gesture.
They stood like this for a few minutes as Haymitch fought to get his breathing back under control. Fought to unclench his muscles, to push away the roaring in his ears, and ignore the deep ache of that familiar old knife-wound which had ripped his heart back open so suddenly.
How? How could she have… she couldn’t have known, right? There was no way. If it wasn’t all so bitterly, terribly sad, Haymitch felt that he might have actually laughed. Of course. If anyone was going to shatter what was left of his heart so thoroughly, so innocently, it would be Effie Trinket. Complications and unintended consequences wrapped up in good intentions - that was her all over. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but even so, the cruelty of the situation wasn’t lost on him.
Haymitch finally removed the hand covering his eyes, dragging it down his face, hoping to remove any lingering hint of tears as he went. He sighed heavily, looking down at Effie.
Effie. With one of her dainty hands curled in his, the other now reaching up to cautiously cup his cheek. Effie. With her sparkling, tearful blue eyes that were studying his face in concern. Effie, who had brought him a birthday gift of a plant named after the dead girl he once loved, on the anniversary of a day that had ruined his life so utterly. Effie, who, earlier that evening had gone to pieces over the probability of losing Katniss and Peeta for a second time. Effie, who cared so much about what they deserved.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she ran a gentle thumb over his stubbled cheek.
Haymitch sighed again, catching her hand and moving it down to rest in between their bodies where he already held the other. Effie immediately tried to move back, but he tightened his grip on her fingers.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to upset-”
“Shh,” he tried, willing her to stop talking.
“I just wanted to-” she began again, and again he cut her off.
“Stop.” His voice was low, and rougher than before.
Effie looked down at their entwined hands. She didn’t quite understand what had happened, but she wasn’t a fool. The gift clearly meant more to Haymitch than she’d previously considered, the name baring a significance far beyond her intentions. She didn’t push it. Even if he’d wanted to explain it to her - which she doubted he did - there was no way they could talk openly about any of it. Not in this place. She only hoped that whatever ghost she’d reawakened wouldn’t haunt him for too long. Truly, the last thing she’d ever wanted to do was hurt him.
“Effie,” Haymitch began seriously, tugging on her hands slightly to pull her focus back to him. “I know,” he whispered, attempting a weak smile as he willed her to understand.
He wanted to say more - to tell her he wasn’t mad at her, give her an explanation maybe, or at least tell her that everything was okay. But it wasn’t, and he honestly didn’t know if it ever would be. All he knew in that moment was that this kind, beautiful, ridiculous woman - who sometimes annoyed the hell out of him, sometimes drove him crazy - cared for him. And he cared for her too.
“I…” He trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Thank you.”
A smile as bright as the sun burst across Effie’s tearful face. “You like it?”
This time Haymitch did laugh. A short, brittle, unexpected sound, but there was no malice in it. He marvelled at her ability to still be so genuine. Sometimes.
“How could I not?” He asked, and truthfully, he meant it. How could he not? Increasingly these days, when Haymitch saw that same hopeful smile lighting up Effie’s face, he felt something soft and warm growing in his chest. It didn’t cover up the pain - he doubted anything ever could - but it smoothed the edges a little. Helped him breathe a little.
The Capitol woman tried to somewhat compose herself after a moment, perhaps remembering that wide smiles weren’t particularly ladylike. Ridiculous. She pursed her lips, acting as she often did when considering something professional. “Good.” She nodded approvingly.
Haymitch watched her pretend to collect herself with a smirk. She really could be so endearingly absurd.
“What?” Effie asked sharply, narrowing her eyes as she noticed him regarding her. She attempted to pull her hands away - presumably to place on her hips - but he held her fast.
“Come here,” he said softly, tugging her gently but firmly into him. She didn’t resist, and he pulled her body in close, wrapping his strong arms around her small frame.
Effie returned in kind, snaking her hands around Haymitch’s waist and burying her face in his shoulder. Now that he was sober, she realised, he smelled nice. Like clean linen and woodsmoke and sandalwood. But still familiar. She breathed him in, allowing herself to sigh in contentment.
“Eff,” Haymitch murmured after a few moments. She felt him move his hands to her waist, a gentle pressure encouraging her to step back. She gazed up at him, questioning blue eyes searching knowing grey as she gripped his arms, not quite ready to let go.
A small frown creased his features, but it cleared just as quickly, and before Effie could think too much about it, Haymitch leaned in, placing a surprisingly soft kiss to her cheek. He lingered just a second longer than was proper, and in that moment she found herself - not for the first time that evening - deciding to throw caution to the wind.
Before he could move too far back, Effie placed her hands on either side of Haymitch’s face, gently guiding him until his lips met hers. He responded immediately, arms wrapping back around her waist as he crushed her body close, his mouth moving desperately against hers. One of her hands found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him towards her with surprising force, and she felt a soft, breathy laugh against her lips. She nipped at him for more, and he eagerly complied. A warm feeling coiled low in Effie’s stomach as Haymitch dipped her - who knew? - to continue the kiss. She appreciated the distraction from her thoughts. His strong hands held her firmly as he leaned over her, hungrily chasing her lips with his own, and she arched her back to better reach him, hands still tangled in his hair.
Before long, they had to come up for air, and Haymitch righted Effie slowly, keeping her locked in his embrace as they each tried to catch their breath.
“Okay?” He asked after a minute, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. She nodded, still breathing rather heavily as she rested her hands on his chest. “Well, well,” he began, his voice low, but carrying a teasing lilt. “If only I’d known sooner.”
“Hm?”
There was a mischievous glint in Haymitch’s eyes as he leaned close to murmur in her ear. “That this is how people celebrate birthdays in the Capitol,” he teased.
She gasped, smacking him lightly on the chest but still smiling despite her best efforts. “Honestly, Haymitch!”
He winked at her.
Effie looked at the man before her for a long moment, a seriousness slowly washing over her features as her mind began to drift back to the here and now. That nagging, sombre feeling weighing heavy in her heart started to make itself known again. She didn’t know how to face the reality of everything just yet… didn’t want to feel all those terrible things alone. She dropped her gaze with a sigh.
“Alright, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked, gently lifting her chin and running his thumb back and forth along her jawline.
“Will you…” she began, her voice small, suddenly vulnerable. She still wasn’t really used to this kind of honesty, but she tried again. “Could you… stay with me… tonight?”
“Effie…”
“Please, Haymitch?”
He regarded her with dark eyes. He’d spent so long keeping her - keeping everyone - at arms length, it was second nature to him now. For her safety, her protection. God only knew if that even mattered anymore. He’d hoped to keep Effie out of everything, but deep down he’d already begun to accept that there really was no way she wouldn’t be caught up in it all.
She cared for him. And he cared for her.
“Okay sweetheart.” Haymitch pulled her close once again. “I’ll stay.”
Later, when he awoke next to her, he felt a strange sense of calm. It was unfamiliar. Determined. His gaze settled on the hopeful little plant - orchid, he reminded himself - sitting on his dresser. Something new, she’d said. He glanced down at the woman lying in his arms, the first rays of the morning sun casting a golden light over her sleeping form.
It reminded him of another point in time, one he thought he’d buried for good, deep in the past. But it didn’t hurt quite as much to remember anymore. At that moment, he only felt warmth. Like the sunrise.
Haymitch knew he needed to keep Effie close in the coming days. Still, it was hard to allow himself hope, to consider the possibility of moving forward after spending so many years lost in the dark. But maybe… maybe it finally was time. Not just for the world, but for him too.
Time for the hope of something new.