#and Katniss feeling like a hollow shell of who she once was and suffering from chronic depression (whilst also having to be the mockingjay)

[evie-doesnt-write]

Hanging tree but it's about Byler in the apocalypse...

[justanotherwriter280]

The Things We Beg For

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x Effie Trinkett

Warnings: mention of torture

What if Effie had been tortured with the other victors in the Capitol?

“If you’re someone else who’s come to tell me I’m safe and I’m okay, I can assure you I really can’t stand to hear the words again.” The words fall out of Effie Trinket’s mouth as hollow as possible. She just doesn’t know how to deal with it. Joanna’s drugging herself to forget it all, Annie has Finnick to cling to, and Peeta will never be the same. Effie has always known exactly what to say, exactly what to do, how to feel. But that’s all gone now. These things tend to happen when the people who have been telling you what to do so long you almost forget who you are (almost…) begin to beat you so mercilessly that you really do forget. Peeta, Joanna, Annie…they really didn’t deserve this. They had spent a lot of time simply trying to do what’s right and what will get them through to the next sunrise. But she, Effie Trinket, had she really not done anything to deserve the wounds the Capitol had inflicted upon her, or was she just as much a piece in their game as the next unwitting citizen?

“You’re no more okay than anyone else is.” His voice was not the one she was expecting at all. She turns to see none other than Haymitch Abernathy – sober Haymitch Abernathy, no less – in the doorway of her room. He invites himself in and sits down on the corner of her bed. She has a thought and smiles weakly, silently allowing a chuckle to escape her lungs. He smiles back. It’s small, but there’s a genuine feeling behind it that’s a far cry from anything she’s felt in a long time.

“What?”

“I get it now,” she replies vaguely. He cocks his head.

“Get what?”

“Why you hate them so much. The Capitol. I thought I knew how awful they were when Katniss and Peeta were forced into a second games. I was wrong.” She wanted to ask him if he was happy now. Happy that she had suffered the way that he had. Happy that she was finally a shell of the person he had always hated. Happy that her whole world had fallen on top of her and that she had been trapped in its wreckage.

“The Capitol personally victimizes everyone. They just handpicked you and the others to give their worst to.  I’m –” He’s cut off by her audible bark of laughter. It’s cold, unyielding. There is no humor behind it. Only the most vicious and unforgiving kind of self-hatred.

“I hate that word so much.” The venom in her is evident. This is a whole new Effie Trinket. One Haymitch has never met. And he has no idea how to deal with her.

“What?” He has no idea what she means – or where she’s going with this line of thinking. But he lets her get there so he can understand. She deserves at least that much, especially from him.

“I hate that word. ‘Victim’. Peeta was hijacked. I heard him mumble and rock himself back and forth at night muttering the things they taught him about Katniss. Even in his sleep. They soaked Joanna with water and shocked her till her heart nearly gave out. Sometimes it did, and they had to get her back. I listened to Annie scream so much.” She looks at him. “So much, Haymitch. They beat her almost every day. She couldn’t even tell them anything. She had no idea. They just enjoyed it. I heard at night how she laid in her bed and sobbed for Finnick. They are victims. The Capitol put them through the Games and then they paid for their victory with blood and tears and pain. No one ever wins; I thought I knew that before. I do now. They were supposed to get to live the rest of their lives in peace – what was left of them after the Games, anyway. I always said what they wanted me to say, did what they told me to do, and was what they wanted me to be for so long, Haymitch.” She pauses again, partly for breath, and partly to see his face. Check for any signs of agreement. She can’t find any. She must not be making it clear enough. “I just got what was coming to me. I deserved every bit of what they did to me. I earned it. So don’t call me a victim. We both know I’m not. You of all people must understand that.” He looks as though she’s slapped him. Little does she know that it would’ve hurt him less if she had.

“Effie…” He takes a breath. “I used to think you were just another piece of Capitol trash on their payroll. I haven’t thought that for a long time. Peeta told me about the locket you made for him. I knew when you said that Katniss and Peeta deserved better that you knew how evil the Games were. I knew you were different. I never for a second thought that you deserved what was happening to you. You were doing what you had to to survive just as much as those kids in the arena were. You just had to do it differently. You never had to kill anyone, but you had to watch the kids you helped reap die in that arena more times than anyone could count. You heard how they beat Cinna to death for that dress, and they probably laughed about it. You are a victim, Effie. No one thinks any less of you.” She scoffed.

“I do.” They both let that hang in the air for a moment. Effie looked down at the hospital bed she lied in. She wanted to believe Haymitch. She believed that he thought what he was saying was true. It warmed her heart to know that someone she thought that much of at least liked her. She had missed him.

He watched her as she finally leaned back on her pillows, shoulders sunk in defeat. She stared into the blanket that lay over her body. He stares at her face. It’s a bit sunken in – from starvation, no doubt. Her skin looks unhealthy. Lack of exposure to the sun, he supposes. Then he studies her arms. They are no longer clad in the latest fashions of Capitol designers, but instead with burn, cut, and other various wound scars that make her look so delicate, so breakable. He’s been where she is – quite recently, too – and he knows that underneath all of the hate, all of the blame, she is hurting so much that she wishes it would just kill her and get it over with. But it won’t. He understands her better than anyone else now. He has for a long time. He doesn’t notice that she’s been watching him until he catches a glimpse of her once famously made up eyes, now barren in so many ways. In a moment of instinct, he reaches for her hand. It’s cold, thin, but soft. She jumps at the sudden touch, and it strikes him right in the heart. But when he looks into her eyes, she doesn’t pull away from him. Her fingers grip his as tightly as they can. He stares at their hands for a moment. The next he hears the quiet tears begin to fall in her breath, and he lays down on the bed with her. To his surprise, she turns into his chest and finally allows herself time to fall apart. He wraps an arm around her back, and she moves closer to him, breathing in his scent. He smells of disinfectant from the room where he sobered up and of the light soap everyone uses here in 13. There’s something about it, though, that is unique to Haymitch himself, and that’s what she can’t get enough of. She’s confessed everything else to him. Given what’s going on, telling him the rest of what she wants him to know doesn’t seem like that big a deal. She eventually calms down enough that her tears stop, and she’s able to look at him.

“Haymitch?” He looks down at her.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He replies in a whisper.

“Everyone begged for something. Peeta wanted to be free. Annie wanted Finnick. Joanna wanted Snow dead. And her ax.” She smiles, stopping short of her feelings for a moment – but only for a moment. “Everyone begged for what they thought would end all of it – what could heal them. I begged for you.” It hits him like a ton of bricks what she means. He had been trying to sort out his feelings for Effie for a long time. Evidently she had been trying to do the same.

“I’m not going anywhere.” That’s the last thing she remembers before falling asleep in his arms.