Too Close For Lies

Haymitch stepped out of the bathroom slowly, his movements deliberate. Effie sat on the edge of his bed, looking somewhat lost in the chaos that filled the room. She had originally insisted on sitting in the chair next to his bed, but Haymitch had dumped most of his clothes from the past few days on it. The argument from earlier was written all over her face. Her mascara had run from all the tears, leaving black streaks smeared down her cheeks. It was a sharp contrast to her usual polished, glamorous appearance. But that didn't bother Haymitch. Without her bright wigs and all the makeup that distorted her features, he found her much prettier. Not that he would ever tell Effie that.

Her eyes lifted to Haymitch as he entered the bedroom. He had tossed the dirty shirt and jacket into the farthest corner of the bathroom without a second glance, pulling on a simple white t-shirt instead. He kept on his black dress pants, having forgotten to grab fresh ones before heading into the bathroom. He hadn't wanted to come back into the bedroom — something about it felt odd — and he didn't want to keep Effie waiting longer than necessary. It had been hard enough convincing her to follow him here to explain everything. And after looking at himself in the mirror for the past few minutes, he wasn't even sure how he would muster the courage to speak the truth.

Haymitch was still swaying on his feet and groaning as he threw himself onto the bed next to Effie. His back hit the mattress and for a moment he had to press his lips together to keep from throwing up the contents of his stomach. The blankets and pillows beneath him were soft and inviting and in that second the young victor wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

"So?" Effie interrupted his thoughts. Her voice was sharp and made the warmth that the alcohol had spread through Haymitch's body disappear.

Haymitch looked up at her with heavy eyelids. Effie had increased the distance between them a little, so that she was now sitting on the very edge of his bed and eyeing him soberly and without any sympathy. The situation was uncomfortable for her, from her point of view it was probably even unprofessional. Haymitch didn't even want to know what he looked like. He was a wreck. The look in the mirror had been enough to know that he was still completely drunk, but now he was drifting off into a half-sleep. From the outside, Effie must have looked like an angel next to him. The thought made him angry and sad at the same time, even if he couldn't say what it was that was bothering him.

With a sigh, Haymitch finally nodded, but made no move to get up from the bed. "Maybe I shouldn't just talk without a thread," he said in an indistinct slur, the words stringing together without rhyme or reason. In the state Haymitch was in, this was going to be difficult. "What do you want to know? Ask me a question and I'll answer it honestly."

Of course, he knew that Effie wouldn't like that because she had expected a direct explanation from him. That had been the excuse that Haymitch had used to persuade her to give him one last chance. But he couldn't. He just couldn't say the words. He wouldn't even know where to start and he would end up getting entangled in a story that went much deeper than just tonight. He didn't want that; for her sake. Haymitch looked at Effie's beautiful face and watched anger and curiosity battle against each other. Then she nodded resignedly but didn't pause, which didn't save him any more seconds.

"You have always emphasized to me how much you hate the Capitol. So why do you abandon me and the children to go party with a woman from the Capitol? And of all the women in this city, you choose Laetitia Lowell. It is so petty." Effie sounded frustrated and angry at the same time, but there was another emotion in her tone. Disappointment? Jealousy? His brain was on a rollercoaster, it must have made this up.

When Haymitch blinked up at her, everything around him spun. Only the pillows pressing against his shoulders assured him that he wasn't really moving. He sighed again, because he had hoped that she wouldn't come right out with her first question. But as so often when it came to her, he had only fooled himself. This was Effie Trinket, Haymitch should have expected nothing less.

"She's not just any woman," he finally explained slowly, so that she understood all of his words, and they weren't swallowed up by the alcohol. Effie's reaction was prompt and probably ill-considered, because the furrowed eyebrows disappeared behind the cold mask just a split second later. "She's the wife of the Head Gamemaker," Haymitch finally finished his sentence and now confusion was reflected in her blue eyes. "You haven't been around for long, but with time you'll understand. There's no getting around it. Maybe it's better that I tell you than if you find out by chance and freak out."

"Why should I freak out?" Effie asked, caution in her thin voice. Good, Haymitch thought. She should be careful.

Haymitch didn't answer right away. He struggled to sit up, and Effie's hands twitched in his direction as he lost his balance for a moment and threatened to fall forward off the bed. Years of practice or luck, whatever it was, he managed to keep himself upright. His seated position brought him closer to her than before, and his silver eyes regarded her seriously in the dim light of his room. Haymitch knew he was putting everything on the line here, and he cursed his brain for it as he uttered the next words. "Because you're not like most people. I've tried long enough to convince myself that you're just like every other woman in the Capitol, but that's not true."

Genuine surprise flashed in Effie's eyes and this time she didn't avoid his gaze. His words must have really caught her off guard because her mouth was open as if she wanted to say something. She couldn't think of a suitable response. Haymitch took advantage of her speechlessness to continue. Now or never. If he chickened out now, he wouldn't be able to get the truth out of his mouth. "It's an open secret in the scene that you meet with Laetitia Lowell if you want to ... well, have some influence on the Games. She has the connections to the Gamemakers to make it possible."

"Influence? What does that mean?" Effie looked astonished and confused at the same time. A confirmation of how naive she really was. Haymitch could only sigh loudly at her reaction.

"This means that the odds aren't ever in your favor when you enter the arena, because often it's already clear who has the better cards. The teams behind the tributes and their influence sometimes make more difference than their own abilities."

"That cannot be, that would be manipulation," Effie replied immediately, in a didactic tone, as if he were nothing more than a child who needed to be told something. Then she laughed her fake laugh and dug her thin fingers into the fabric of her black dress. "Really, Haymitch ... whatever you have been drinking does not seem to be doing you any good. You wanted to be honest with me."

For a moment, Haymitch managed to push the fog in his head aside. He looked up and stared into Effie's eyes with all the seriousness he could muster and gave her an almost pitying, sad smile. "If you want to prolong the life of your tributes, you meet with Laetitia. If you need sponsors but no one will support you, you meet with Laetitia." Haymitch hesitated briefly, swallowing the words he could hold back for a few more seconds, and avoided Effie's gaze. Now he had to get through the difficult part, and any extra time he could buy, he gratefully took.

"Haymitch?" The young victor heard the slight panic that seemed to slowly swell in Effie as she put together puzzle after puzzle. But he did nothing to calm her down. There was nothing that could take away her fear. It was a bitter reality, a truth that so many people had had to face before her. Now fate was claiming her soul too, and although Haymitch would have liked to keep the knowledge from her, it was the only way. A few days ago, he would have preferred an ignorant Effie, but he had now realized that sooner or later she would find out the truth. Now it was still early enough to prevent too hard an impact, and who knew what kind of person she would turn into if he left her in the dark? Haymitch didn't want Effie to wake up in ten years to find out what torment she had indirectly inflicted on others just because she hadn't known any better.

"This was the third time I've met with Laetitia in my time as a mentor. So far, I've always done it when I felt one of my tributes had victor potential," Haymitch continued, delaying the actual point for another breath. He didn't dare raise his head to look at Effie's face when she understood. "Of course, she wants something in return, but if you, as a victor, even bring yourself to speak to her, then you're also aware of the price you're going to pay."

Effie's gasping breath finally made Haymitch look up; for a moment, at least. Her sky-blue eyes, which were more the color of the ocean in the darkness, were wide and she was staring at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. That was enough to bring his gaze back down to the space between them. He couldn't bear the expression on Effie's face. To Haymitch's relief, it was neither pity nor disgust that was reflected in her pupils, and yet it hurt more than he had expected to see her perfect world crumble.

"That ..." Effie said in a torrent of lost stammering, but then stopped. Her large eyes moved rapidly from side to side as if her mind was trying to process all the information as quickly as possible.

At this moment, he was happy for her to go inside herself and think about it. Now that Haymitch had gotten rid of his words that revealed his actions, the alcohol was tugging at his limbs again and he let it. The darkness was familiar and made him forget the last few hours. It pulled him deeper and deeper into itself. All he felt was his muscles slowly relaxing. Then Effie suddenly shook his shoulders.

Haymitch flinched, and as he regained focus on his vision, Effie's sapphire blue eyes appeared right in front of his face. She was so young. So clueless. Just like he had been when his world had turned to ruins. Even if their lives couldn't really be compared. Haymitch hadn't even noticed her moving over to him. Now she was sitting right in front of him, her knees on the duvet and her fingers clutching his shirt. He raised his eyebrows, overwhelmed. "What was her price?"

Now Haymitch couldn't help but let out a mirthless laugh. He couldn't pull himself away from Effie, but a small part of his drunken brain didn't want to. Now that he had enough alcohol in his system to admit the truth to himself without alarm bells going off in his head, he saw things more clearly. He couldn't deny the attraction that seemed to spring up between them like a rope every time they got close. As if someone had tied the ends of the rope to their wrists.

Perhaps it was this attraction that made Haymitch throw his next words at her as mercilessly as possible. All he knew was that he wanted to hurt her, even if he didn't understand why. "After I told you all this, is that your first question, sweetheart? I was at her house, so you can't guess the answer?"

The slap came so unexpectedly that Haymitch staggered and fell backwards. The pillows cushioned his fall, and he was too drunk to react. What could he do? He had wanted to hurt her and so she retaliated. In that absurd moment he realized how far Effie had already strayed from her image of the perfect Capitol. She had dropped her flawless facade. She had forgotten her manners. She had revealed her true, wild, beautiful self. And all because of him. A spiteful, mean laugh escaped Haymitch's lips as he gazed up at her. He didn't know why he suddenly wanted to see her suffer. Perhaps because she was the real reason for his shame; because if it hadn't been for Effie, he wouldn't have given himself to Laetitia again in a thousand years.

Haymitch had no time to wonder about his actions. His intentions were forgotten the moment Effie started screaming. "How could you do that, Haymitch? What on earth made you think of letting yourself be used like that? What possessed you to do something so stupid? You were always the more level-headed and cautious one of the two of us!" Effie's face was only inches from his, she had half bent over him in her rage and lowered her head, and yet she seemed miles away. She was dissolved in emotion, her features contorted and her nails digging through the thin fabric of his shirt. Haymitch had never seen her so distraught, even though she had been through a lot since they had first met. The anger in her trembling voice was ever-present. Nevertheless, he could hear the worry, the pain, the guilt that she tried in vain to hide.

"I don't believe that Elowen or Ramon have the potential to win," Haymitch stated as matter-of-factly as he could under the circumstances. It took all his remaining strength not to pull Effie to his chest in a reassuring gesture. This wasn't the right moment and Haymitch was pretty sure that the gesture would only make her angrier. And anyway, why should he comfort her? He couldn't even comfort himself. "But you believe in it. You were so hopeful that you made me believe it too. At least for a moment."

"But I would've never wanted you to do something like that ..." Effie's voice broke and her hands shook as she tried to lift Haymitch back into a sitting position. Now the agony had finally replaced the anger. "I would've never asked you to do that. No matter how much I care about the children. I'm not a monster who–"

"I know that," Haymitch whispered, giving in to Effie's feeble attempts to pull him up. He had to force himself not to lose control of his own emotions.

"I can't believe this." Effie was still caught in a fit of panic. She stared into his face, and he could feel her gaze on him, but Haymitch couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. He didn't want to see the despair that had turned into a dull, lifeless feeling in the depths of his being over the years. Instead, he stared at the burgundy carpet of his room and wished he could block her out completely during this period of bewilderment. "This is ... prostitution. We have to report this, Haymitch. We can't let her get away with it. She and her husband will lose their jobs if this gets out."

In a sudden burst of activity, Effie tried to jump up from the bed, but Haymitch grabbed her wrist to hold her back. "Do you really think reporting it would do any good? Are you really that stupid, Effie?"

Effie returned his sharp look, perplexed. Indecision and overwhelm were reflected in her eyes, and Haymitch was surprised that she had grown up in such a sheltered household that she really had no idea about all this. Curse or blessing? He couldn't say, but continued before the young woman could interrupt him. "You've lived here all your life. You must know how things work here. The system would turn against you, not against the Lowells. They're the ones pulling the strings here and have more than a handful of powerful allies."

Effie ran a trembling hand through her blonde hair once more, sinking back onto the edge of the bed with an unsettled movement. "The Capitol is fair," she whispered, almost in a trance, as if she had to convince herself of her own words. This time, it was she who couldn't meet Haymitch's eyes. "The legal system has rules. Power doesn't matter. If what you're saying is true, then a lot of victors have had the same experience. People will come forward to support your claims."

"Have you ever heard of a trial where a District resident was the claimant, Effie?" Haymitch snapped back at her. The more she said, the angrier he became. Her naivety, her blindness to the truth ... How could she be so closed off to reality? "Your legal system doesn't apply to us, how can you not understand that?"

"Of course it does!" Effie replied, alarmed, wrenching herself free from his grip to put more distance between them. With her other hand, she wiped at her cheek, spreading the remains of her mascara further across her cheekbones.

A red haze clouded Haymitch's vision. He could feel the rage pulsing in his blood, and now he feared truly losing control. A second later, he was on his feet, spinning unsteadily toward Effie, who stared at him with wide, dark eyes. "I'm a killer. These people forced me to kill innocent children. Me and every other person in the Districts were born into this world without rights, and we'll leave it the same way. How can you work for the Games and not understand that?"

"But I'm not from that world," Effie murmured after a while of cold silence. She had now found the courage to meet his gaze, and she tried to push away every negative emotion while Haymitch let himself run free. "Where I grew up, the law is fair and the people are friendly. There is no violence, blackmail or intrigue."

"Then you're far away from your world now," Haymitch replied in the same quiet tone, but he couldn't suppress the sharpness in it. He wanted to believe her that everything was above board where she had grown up. Deep down he knew that only a few people, all of whom belonged to the elite, were responsible for the suffering in the Districts. It was the elite who supported the Hunger Games and the regime with their money. "And if it's as wonderful as you say, then I'd like to hear an answer from you: Do your parents support the Hunger Games?"

Effie's hesitation and the freezing of her facial muscles were all Haymitch needed to know. She opened her mouth to say something, but he stopped her with a raised hand. "A simple yes or no will do."

"It's not that simple," hissed Effie, getting up from his bed to approach him. Now she looked more like the angry woman from a few minutes earlier.

"Then let's make it a little easier, shall we? Do you support the Hunger Games?" Haymitch asked in a honeyed voice, leaning down to Effie with a bitter smirk on his lips.

"We were raised to support them," Effie said curtly, and something in her voice had changed. Haymitch could see how much she wanted to just end the conversation and storm off, but after everything he had just confessed to her, that wasn't an option. "And you would do the same if you lived in the Capitol. So don't blame me for things I can't control."

"Even if I lived in the Capitol, I would use my mind and ask myself what is right and wrong. Or are you just taught to silently obey President Snow?" His sneer sounded unbearable and smarmy, and Effie had to restrain herself from slapping him again.

"We're not all the same, Haymitch. Didn't you just tell me I'm different from them?" Effie snapped, her irritation growing. Her cheeks turned a shade of red as she clenched her hands into fists and looked up at Haymitch with a clear gaze, whose alcohol level seemed to be slowly dropping if he was able to have such a discussion.

"I meant that," Haymitch finally admitted, his shoulders slumping as he let the tension fall away. The anger still raged in his veins, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Effie was trying to tell him something.

"I'm not stupid," she whispered, as if to confirm his suspicion. "Here, it's so easy to forget what's real and surreal. The Hunger Games, which are on the evening schedule alongside TV shows and movies, are no exception. Many people like to forget. What's the alternative, Haymitch?"

This time, Haymitch was the one who was at a loss for words. His brain was racing to find an answer to her question that somehow made so much sense and yet left him with so many problems. Before he could even utter any of them, Effie suddenly tore her lips apart in a bizarre gesture. It took him several seconds to recognize the fake smile that she so often gave people on camera. She put on her mask as if it were a second skin that she could just pull over herself. As if she was practiced at hiding what she felt from the public.

"Well, where did this conversation lead? We have drifted off track," Effie said in a slightly too cheerful tone, but then continued in a demanding voice. "Promise me that you will never do anything as risky as that night again. Promise me, too, that you will discuss every step you take with me in the future."

Haymitch could hear that she was about to lose it. The woman standing before him looked nothing like the Effie he knew. Her black dress hung almost lifelessly on her body, and she was so pale she could have been a ghost. In this state, Effie reminded him more of the women who shot up in the dark alleys behind bars than of a District escort. She seemed so fragile that he reached for her right hand and took it in his.

"I wouldn't do it again," Haymitch said, half mockingly, half seriously, but he squeezed her hand so she wouldn't take the words the wrong way.

"Promise," Effie demanded again, ignoring his statement. Her attention was on their clasped hands. She had allowed his touch, had not shied away from it, and watched as her small hand disappeared into his large one. His touch was warm against the cold that seemed to emanate from her, and it distracted her from the tears that were forming in her eyes.

Haymitch rolled his eyes, but didn't hesitate when he gave her his promise. For a while, neither of them said anything. They just stood there, holding each other's hands and saying nothing. Eventually, Haymitch cleared his throat and couldn't hide a genuine grin in her direction. "Now tell me, was that a good enough reason to stop hating me?"

"I'm sorry," Effie whispered, moving a little closer to him. She had to tilt her head back to look at his face. What must they look like from the outside? Sad, perhaps; depending on each other. Some might say that their posture was inappropriate for the relationship of two work colleagues. As if they were more than that. "I couldn't have known you would surprise me with something like that."

"I have my moments of surprise too." Haymitch winked at her, but Effie didn't react with amusement, and he could understand. He didn't know how he managed not to be sucked into the dark hole in his middle. Maybe he had gotten used to it for far too long.

"Just thinking about what she did to you makes me so angry that I want to rip her head off," she said through gritted teeth, sounding so unlike Effie Trinket that he raised his eyebrows. There was no pity in her eyes. Haymitch automatically asked himself what it was that made her feel so angry.

"It's better if you don't show it in public."

Effie nodded, the knowing look in her blue eyes pinning him to the spot. "I know."

"You're good at acting your part, so that won't be a problem," Haymitch murmured, hearing the doubt in her voice. His other hand slid up to her face and with a gentle pressure, he forced her chin up with his fingers. Their eyes met and Effie's grip on his hand tightened. Haymitch felt the pounding of his heart so clearly, as if it wasn't deep inside his body, but lurking on the surface. "No anger. No tears. Just your brightest smile for the cameras. Can you manage that?"

-

Hi guys! 

Early update since this week has been intense but pretty good! I finished my last exam on Monday and with that, my Bachelor studies are over now! On top of that, I started a new job as intern yesterday! Since tomorrow is a holiday in Germany and I'm in a good mood, there will be two updates this week!

I hope you liked this chapter!

Skyllen