Song inspiration for this chapter: Sign of the Times – Harry Styles, Apologize – Timbaland (feat. One Republic), Space Song – Beach House

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The Only Exception

"How can I be of service to you, my prince?" Chaff slurred. Effie wondered if Haymitch had been in the same state this time last year. Haymitch ignored Chaff's quips, his face remaining serious, which caught his friend's attention. Suddenly a somewhat worried expression crept across his face, as if a thought was already running through his head. "Seriously, what's the problem?"

"Petunia's the problem," Haymitch replied, then leaned forward and whispered something in Chaff's ear. Even though they were a good distance away from the crowds in the lounge, Effie had no chance of hearing Haymitch's words.

Amusement sparkled in Chaff's eyes as he pulled his head back and met Haymitch's serious gaze. "It would be my pleasure," he grinned and disappeared with quick steps back to the bar.

"What did you tell him?" Effie asked, staring at Chaff, who was leaning over the counter with a wide grin, talking to one of the Avoxes.

"You'll see in just a moment," Haymitch replied, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from turning upwards.

Chaff started moving again, balancing a fully loaded serving tray with glasses of colorful alcohol on his good hand. Effie could hear Haymitch giggling next to her and wondered what he found so amusing that he forgot his anger so suddenly. It dawned on her a few moments later as Chaff made his way through the crowd of sponsors, mentors, and escorts, heading straight for Petunia. It was only when he was almost in front of her that she even noticed Chaff, and her eyes widened in confusion when she saw the huge tray. Then Chaff stumbled. At least it was supposed to look like a stumble. Actually, he only gave the tray a little nudge. A second later, the drinks poured onto Petunia, who let out a squeal and dodged backwards. The glasses crashed to the floor, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces. The people around Petunia turned to her in shock. Chaff raised his arms in the air in an apologetic gesture but could barely hide the smile on his lips. Haymitch began to snort. Even Effie couldn't help but smile.

"Was that your idea?" asked Effie, laughing to herself.

Haymitch smiled down at her and leaned a little in her direction. "I gave Chaff some creative freedom and I think he used it quite well."

"Indeed, he did."

Chaff had already started his retreat and was halfway through the crowd when Petunia overcame her shock and stared at him. Of course, she knew him from years of drinking nights with the two victors in the 12th penthouse. Her sparkling green eyes followed Chaff and eventually landed on Haymitch and Effie on the other side of the lounge. When she saw Haymitch's satisfied laughter, her cheeks darkened abruptly. Petunia looked furious, like a wild animal on the verge of losing its composure. Her feet moved swiftly from one moment to the next, her gaze still fixed on Haymitch.

"Haymitch ..." The rest of the sentence caught in Effie's throat as Petunia moved through the crowd so quickly that she was almost upon them.

"Come on," Haymitch said in a dark tone, and to Effie's surprise, he turned on his heel to leave the entrance area. Effie followed him quickly, trying to stay ahead of Petunia.

The hallway to the elevators was deserted, and the ongoing silence created an unusual contrast to the loud celebration and cheers coming from next door. The muffled laughter and chatter from the lounge sounded oddly distorted and far away, as if they had entered another world. Haymitch stopped at the end of the corridor, where it split to the left. In front of him was nothing but glass. Behind it lay the Capitol, sparkling like a diamond in the afternoon sun. Haymitch turned to Effie, but his gray eyes swept past her, focusing on a movement behind her shoulders. Effie stood beside him, staring down at the city for a long second before turning to Petunia, who approached Haymitch with a face flushed with rage.

"How dare you," she hissed, all pretense of friendliness gone. "This dress is worth more than your entire District!"

Haymitch laughed a bitter laugh and leaned against the windows as smugly as if he was sure they would never break beneath him. "Save yourself that Capitol bullshit," he said in a disinterested, dark tone that Effie had never heard from him before. Every emotion, every life, had vanished from his voice. All that remained was a menace in his words that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "That was a warning, I hope you got it. If you show your face here again, or I hear you say anything negative about Twelve, Effie, or me, the two of us will have a problem. You get that?"

"You cannot tell me what to do," Petunia hissed, moving toward Haymitch until she was standing right in front of him. With her heels, they were eye-to-eye. If looks could kill. A stormy expression flashed in Petunia's green eyes, and she clenched her teeth. Her demeanor bore so little resemblance to a lady of high society that Effie wondered how she had managed to hide this seething, resentful character all this time. "You may be a victor, but I will not let a District man tell me what to do. Especially not one from Twelve."

"If you set foot in here again tomorrow, Chaff will ruin your next dress too," Haymitch continued, ignoring Petunia's provocation. "You have no business being here. You're no longer the escort of Twelve, thank God. You have no say anymore. Nobody cares about you, Petunia."

A hiss escaped Petunia's throat, and her hand shot up. Effie stared at the scene, petrified, unable to move or interject. She had the feeling that her interference was a bad idea. Petunia pointed her index finger at Haymitch and pressed her orange acrylic nail to his chest. Haymitch didn't move an inch, only his eyes followed her movement. "You talk a good game about people's interests. If you were a little more interested in reality instead of constantly getting drunk, you'd know that my name is quite well known in the Capitol."

"Yeah, because of me," Haymitch laughed, his lips twisting in disgust. "You're only known because you used to be my escort. You've always served a victor. Your only job was to make my life easier. Without me, no one would know your name. I'd gladly kiss the feet of the person who decided you were too old and ugly for the job."

"You lack respect for the Capitol, Haymitch Abernathy. You owe your life to us, have you forgotten that?" An innocent, calculating grin crept across Petunia's face. She knew his weak points, just as he knew hers.

A deep growl escaped Haymitch and suddenly he leaned towards Petunia. A threatening expression spread across his face and when he opened his mouth to speak, he showed her his teeth. "I owe you a damn thing."

For a long moment, Petunia was silent. She returned Haymitch's gaze with hard eyes but seemed to hesitate for a split second. Then, as if she were calculating something, her pupils darted over to Effie. Her malicious smile only widened. "But, but, Haymitch. Would you have preferred to die in the arena? If you had behaved like your Ramon today, back then, I am sure it could have been arranged. Just like with your family, remember?"

Haymitch flinched. Effie couldn't tell if it was from surprise or pain. For a moment the anger on his face vanished and she could see the fierce, bitter, guilty man hiding under the mask of arrogance and false charm. To her surprise, she found that he was not a complete stranger to her. He must have revealed more of his character to her than she had imagined. Then, as the uncontrollable wave of hatred descended upon Haymitch, chaos broke out.

His right arm shot out and grabbed Petunia by the throat. A second later, he had her pressed against the glass window. The image reminded Effie of Ramon doing the same thing to her. The only difference was that Petunia's feet were touching the ground. "Say that again and I swear I'll kill you immediately," Haymitch snapped, losing all control.

Had Petunia expected such an attack? She seemed calm and still smiled, even though Haymitch was choking her. Slowly she opened her mouth and gasped with effort. "You won't kill me," she managed, and her eyes moved back to Effie, who was staring at Haymitch with wide eyes. Her feet still held her in place. "You can't kill me." Petunia laughed a shrill, ragged laugh. "She'd never ... forgive you for that."

It took Effie several seconds to realize that her former instructor was talking about her. "What makes you think I give a damn?" Haymitch asked, but his voice wavered as if he was fighting a silent conflict in his head. His grip on Petunia's throat loosened slightly, but the older woman noticed it, nonetheless.

"I find it cute how you look at her," she said, smiling thinly. She was still playing with him and seemed to think she was the one pulling the strings. "I just wonder what your dead girlfriend would think about that. If she was anything like you, I'm sure she'd be disgusted."

Petunia's words seemed to make the decision for Haymitch. The wild look in his eyes was back and his face twisted in anger. He looked as if he would tear Petunia to pieces at any second. His fingers tightened around her throat, and she gasped, the look of triumph suddenly replaced by fear, as if she had only just become aware of a crucial fact.

"Haymitch, stop," Effie cried out at that moment, suddenly waking from her trance as if she had fallen off a cliff and now landed on the ground.

Haymitch didn't move. "You could have helped me back then," he whispered, his voice full of sorrow. "You could have stood up for me. I was just a child."

Petunia shook her head. "I ... should have been celebrated ... when you ... won, but I was ... denied that because of your stunt in the arena," Petunia muttered, her voice weakening. "Witnessing you receive your punishment was ... hardly atonement."

"Haymitch!" Effie stumbled forward, clutching Haymitch's arm to pull him away from Petunia. He had to stop before he actually killed her. He half turned his head toward her, but when their eyes met, Effie found nothing there but a deep, hot pain. Haymitch shoved her away with his elbow, and she stumbled backwards a few steps before regaining her balance.

Petunia laughed a throaty laugh as she watched the scene, which only caused Haymitch's fingers to dig deeper into her skin. "No one will care about your death. What can they do? I'm the only living victor of Twelve. They have no choice but to accept your death."

Finally, Petunia seemed to realize it too. The color of her cheeks turned paler and paler. You could see that she was slowly but surely running out of breath. "Haymitch, please stop," Effie begged in a hysterical voice. Her fingers had started to shake, and she was swaying from one foot to the other as if she too was about to lose consciousness at any moment.

Haymitch still didn't react. As if he were caught in a trance of his own. What Petunia had said about his family had thrown him completely off track, and even though Effie barely understood what the two had been saying, she had the uncomfortable feeling that she herself had made a mistake. As if she hadn't behaved properly towards him. She couldn't say why. It was nothing more than a gut feeling that made her sick. The agonized look on his face made her sick even more. This deep, years-old pain seemed to be tearing him apart; seemed to be transforming his being into a person that Effie barely recognized. She felt the need to pull him away from Petunia, to shield him from her. She couldn't say why. It was nothing more than an instinct.

Effie's feet moved forward, swaying, until she was halfway beside Haymitch, her back to Petunia. "Haymitch," she said again, putting her hand on the arm he was using to push Petunia against the wall. "That's not you. She's not worth it."

Haymitch's silver eyes darted from Petunia to her, and Effie tried to put every spark of willpower into her gaze. She pressed her fingers harder against the hem of his suit, wanting him to feel her touch; to concentrate on it. "You know her. Nothing but lies come out of her mouth."

Effie seized the moment of Petunia's disorientation and pressed her hands against Haymitch's chest to push him further away. He allowed it and took a few steps back, their faces so close that it was difficult for her to maintain the pleading expression. She wanted the sorrow to leave his eyes. "You are better than she could ever be," she whispered, ensuring that her words didn't reach Petunia.

Haymitch's hands enveloped hers, which still rested on his chest, as if he wouldn't have the strength to stay on his feet otherwise. She allowed him to intertwine his fingers with hers and squeeze them. Her heart pounded in her throat, both excited and fearful. Effie was relieved to see the haze clear from Haymitch's eyes.

"I am curious to hear what your mother will have to say about your behavior, young lady," came the heavy-breathing Petunia's voice, struggling to sound as dignified as possible. Haymitch's eyes shifted back to Petunia, and Effie felt his muscles stiffen. "She surely had more in mind for you than a drunken barbarian from District Twelve."

Effie huffed and released Haymitch to turn toward Petunia. The older woman slowly rose to her feet, glaring at Effie with open rage in her green eyes. "My mother has never liked you, so tell her whatever you want," Effie remarked with an indifferent tone, then stepped up to her former teacher, who scrutinized her with dissatisfaction. Her voice took on a sharp whisper as she continued. "You think you know me, Petunia? Let me make one thing clear. Mention my family's name again, speak ill of Haymitch or District Twelve one more time, and I will make this season unforgettable for you. You think you are good at this game? I assure you, I am better."

"You will regret this," Petunia hissed, staring angrily into Effie's eyes.

"I don't think so," Effie replied, giving her a wide, fake smile. "I think you should go before I tell my mother something you will regret later. You know how quickly rumors spread when Lyssandra Trinket gets wind of them."

Petunia hissed one last time, turned on her heel and disappeared with quick steps towards the elevators. She couldn't go back to the sponsor bar in her stained dress. Effie could only hope that the woman took her words to heart and didn't show up here again in the future. She had no desire to involve her mother in this matter. Lyssandra Trinket was the last weapon Effie would use to get what she wanted in this world. A weapon she didn't like to use because it would mean she would have to face her own failure for weeks afterwards. Her mother wasn't often on her side, but when it came to the family reputation, she knew no bounds. And Petunia put that at risk with her lies and intrigues.

For a long second, Effie stared down at the Capitol. The sun was setting behind the glittering skyscrapers. Usually the sight calmed her, sent a feeling of contentment through her veins. Not today. With a grim expression, she turned to Haymitch, only to notice that he too had disappeared. She hadn't heard his footsteps and didn't know whether he had fled during her brief exchange with Petunia or only afterwards.

The hallway was empty. Again, the only sound was the muffled laughter from the sponsors' lounge. Effie wrapped her arms around herself and then hurried down the hall, heading for the lounge and the elevators. She stopped at the landing under whose glass steps Haymitch had had his panic attack yesterday. The small room where the stairs were located was also empty. When Effie reached its feet, she stepped out into a deserted foyer.

Empty except for Haymitch, who stood on the other side, his back turned to her. He had his forearm pressed against the glass window, his forehead buried in the black fabric of his sleeve. The thin layer of glass was all that separated him from the Capitol skyline. It was as if he were hoping that it would give way under his weight. His fingers were clenched into tight fists. Effie wasn't sure if he had noticed her presence. His instincts were usually sharper than hers, but he seemed entirely lost in his thoughts. She could see his body trembling. He looked desperate.

"Haymitch." Effie's voice was barely a whisper, yet Haymitch flinched. He hadn't heard her approach.

He turned around, stumbling slightly, and a startled sound escaped Effie's throat. She rushed toward him and nearly tripped over the shards scattered all around the floor. His right hand was bleeding, and where he had leaned against the window, blood was smeared on the glass where his fingers had touched it. Effie's eyes moved from him to the broken glass on the floor, then to the display cases set up at intervals. She hadn't paid attention to what was being exhibited before, but now her focus was drawn to the nearest case, where the square-shaped protective glass had shattered into thousands of glittering fragments. She had a vague idea of what had happened but refrained from asking any questions.

"This needs cleaning," Effie said in a low voice, examining his hand with careful touches. A deep gash graced the back of his palm and blood was gushing out quickly, but Haymitch hardly seemed to notice. It must be the spot where he had first broken through the glass.

"You're ruining your dress," Haymitch said in a mechanical tone, staring at the bright red stains spreading across the flower-shaped embroidery patterns where his blood had dripped onto her dress.

Effie just shook her head, her fingers now soaked in blood. "We need to take this to the doctor, I can't just put a bandage on it." Haymitch's hand trembled between her fingers and Effie had to resist the urge to squeeze it, afraid that the glass shards would dig deeper into his skin.

"I'm sorry," Haymitch murmured, not moving. He seemed uninterested in stopping the bleeding.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Haymitch," Effie replied, leaning her head back to look into his silver eyes. His whole appearance was stiff and sluggish, as if he wasn't really there. The look in his eyes was empty, forlorn. The sight brought tears to her own eyes. "I don't want to say she deserved it, but ... what she said ... I don't know what you've been through, I can hardly imagine. But I know you and I know you didn't deserve it. I'm so sorry."

It was as if Effie's words breathed life back into Haymitch's eyes. He lowered his head towards her and raised his other hand, which had been hanging uselessly by his side until then. His cool fingers stroked her cheek and suddenly Effie had to hold her breath to keep from gasping in surprise. From one moment to the next, time seemed to stand still. Effie searched Haymitch's eyes, thousands of questions in her head that she would probably never get answers to. Suffering was reflected in his dark pupils, but there was something else mixed in with his expression. A desire for which she couldn't find the words.

Haymitch bent toward her and Effie's lips parted almost automatically. One of her hands flew up to his neck to dig her fingers into the hem of his jacket as he pressed his body against hers and she stumbled back a step until her back hit the broken display case. The glass crackled under her heels, but Effie didn't care. Haymitch breathed into her and wrapped his arms around her back in a movement so sudden that she would have flinched if the burgeoning heat in her chest hadn't clouded every other emotion.

Haymitch's lips slid over hers and the taste of champagne on his tongue drove her crazy. She knew he wasn't drunk. He had barely had anything to drink all day. So why was he now returning the kiss she had initiated last night?

"Haymitch," Effie gasped, trying to put her arms on Haymitch's chest to push him away. But Haymitch seemed to interpret the sound that came out of her mouth differently. His lips pressed harder against hers and suddenly she saw stars under her closed eyelids.

She didn't know how long they kissed; how long they stood there, wrapped tightly around each other, their hands exploring each other's bodies. Every fiber of Effie's body screamed for more, wanted to continue. It felt right. Still, she forced her head back. Haymitch's hands stroked her back, moving up to her neck to pull her back toward him.

"Haymitch, wait," Effie managed to say, barely able to string the two words together. An amused grin spread across Haymitch's face, which she returned with a feverish look. She felt as if she were in a trance, as if she were on a trip that seemed to cloud and distort all her nerves.

"Wait," she said again, brushing the strands of blond hair away that had fallen over Haymitch's forehead. Haymitch leaned into her touch like a cat, seemingly as oblivious to the world as her. Where Effie had seen the Capitol and District barrier in the past, there was nothing but hot desire. She couldn't say where it came from. All she knew was that it relieved her. "You need to get your hand treated. You'll end up bleeding to death."

Effie pulled herself out of Haymitch's arms and stepped aside. His wound hadn't stopped bleeding. A glance down at herself revealed that her clothes were now covered in his blood. She didn't even want to think about how her back must look — likely where most of the damage had been done.

Haymitch snorted but nodded reluctantly. The passionate sparkle slowly faded from his eyes as he observed her more closely. "They'll think I tried to hurt you."

Effie shrugged and pulled him after her by his uninjured hand. "We can worry about that later."

oOo

For the discretion of all involved, the medical room of the sponsors' lounge was located several floors below the official premises. At parties, where things often got rowdy and well-known parties would clash, there were occasionally incidents that needed medical attention. More often than not, alcohol was involved. The thought gave Effie an idea. "Pretend you are drunk," Effie instructed him as she opened the door and entered the room with Haymitch in tow.

Haymitch gave her a resigned look but followed her lead. He made his steps deliberately sluggish and amused himself by leaning his weight on Effie during the final stretch to the reception desk. He could hear the exasperated sigh she tried to suppress and grinned broadly.

Behind the counter, a flurry of activity unfolded, and an Avox came over to help Effie support Haymitch's weight. A tall, thin man in a white coat stepped out of the adjacent room and approached them directly. "Lay him down on that bed," he instructed the Avox, then turned to Effie. "What happened?"

"I am not entirely sure; he must have had too much to drink. I was with a sponsor when I was informed that he got into an argument with another victor," Effie began, her voice taking on a forced, hysterical tone. She made an effort to let her body tremble. "I only turned my back on him for a moment, and then suddenly he was gone. You may have heard the stories ... Haymitch Abernathy from District Twelve. I thought he had his drinking under control. I could barely lift him off the floor. There were glass shards and blood everywhere ..."

"Miss Trinket, correct?" the doctor asked, hurrying over to a metal cabinet in the back corner of the small room where the Avox had placed Haymitch. He was now slumped on the medical couch, trying to look as drunk as possible. He swayed his upper body back and forth as if he was about to lose his balance, and Effie could barely suppress her grin. She nodded silently and pressed a hand to Haymitch's shoulder to keep him upright. "Do not worry, I will have the wound patched up in no time."

"You are my savior," she sighed an octave too shrill.

The doctor lifted Haymitch's injured hand and examined it for barely a few seconds before spraying a disinfectant on the skin. A sharp, acrid smell filled Effie's nose. "Just a flesh wound, there will be nothing left of it by tomorrow."

"That is a tremendous relief to me," Effie burst out, immediately launching into a monologue about her helplessness while the doctor cleaned and bandaged Haymitch's wound. He seemed eager to get rid of them as quickly as possible and had no interest in listening to her chatter. When they finally left the office after one of her lengthy thank-you speeches, and the door clicked shut behind them, Effie sighed in true relief, pressing her lips together. Haymitch shot her a dark look.

"Finally," he said, irritated. "Your voice is giving me a headache."

Effie huffed and linked arms with him. They didn't speak until they reached the basement, where their driver was waiting for them and didn't even bat an eyelid at the sight of Haymitch's bandage. For a moment, Effie wondered if this was the first time he had ended the evening in such a situation.

The car quickly moved off, leaving Effie and Haymitch in a bubble of oppressed silence.

"One thing you said to Petunia bothers me," Effie noted after a moment of silence. Until then, she had just stared silently out the window at the dark city with its bright, colorful lights, ignoring his arm that was outstretched behind her seat. "It is not the job of an escort to make life easier for her victor. Although that is largely true for you, because I do a lot of what should be your job. My authority goes beyond babysitting you."

"I know that, sweetheart," Haymitch murmured, the fingers of his outstretched hand sliding behind her back to the strands of her blonde hair that curled at the nape of her neck. "You can't compare yourself to Petunia. It's not the same, she hasn't done anything compared to what you're doing."

Effie nodded, satisfied with his answer. She didn't want to hear anything more. She wasn't interested in what his past years with her had been like. Today's escalation was enough of a clue. She didn't even know if she wanted to talk about what had happened today. "You have to learn to keep your emotions under control. Something like today cannot happen again."

"Didn't you earlier say it wasn't my fault?" Haymitch growled, his fingers lingering in her hair.

"It is not your fault," Effie repeated, turning her head towards Haymitch so she could look him in the eyes. The memory of his argument with Petunia had brought the anger back to his face. "But violence is not a solution, Haymitch. What if you had not managed to regain control? You could have killed her."

"I wanted to," Haymitch admitted, and started moving his fingers again. They stroked the back of her head in a slow, lulling rhythm and Effie had to fight the tiredness that was coming to the fore.

"I don't know what I would have done if you had." Now Effie's voice had truly taken on a slightly hysterical tone. "I don't think I would have been able to handle it."

"I know and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm not scared," Effie said, closing her eyes. "At least not of you." She leaned her head against his arm and let the exhaustion that today had brought overtake her. As if from a great distance, she felt Haymitch's arm move away from the armrest, only to wrap around her back a moment later. The warmth of his body relaxed her. She wasn't afraid of him, no. Since her journey in the Hunger Games had begun, she had never felt safer than when she was near him.

It wasn't long before Effie fell asleep on his shoulder. Haymitch watched her peaceful features as she dozed. She looked beautiful, gentle and endearing, so free of the shock he had seen on her face for long enough today. With his free hand he gently brushed her hair from her face, wondering at the same time how he had let it get this far. Calling what they had had an affair, which other victors sometimes talked about, didn't seem right to him for several reasons. For one thing, hardly anything had happened between them, apart from the few kisses they had shared. For another, the word had a negative connotation that he didn't like.

It felt different. He liked Effie, and it wasn't just her physical attraction that he was drawn to. That was what scared him. Because since his Games, Haymitch hadn't let anyone see inside him. She shouldn't have been an exception, but Effie had gotten past his walls so easily that he hadn't even noticed for quite a while.

Haymitch wondered if Chaff and Mags were right with their warnings. He didn't know what he was doing here, and even though he was enjoying every second of it. Effie's closeness felt good and right, but at the same time he couldn't shake the feeling deep in his stomach that he was making a huge mistake.

Effie shifted in his arms. Her head slid further down his shoulder and Haymitch's body instinctively moved in the same direction so as not to wake her. He had to suppress a sigh as he looked at her sleeping face. So now it was done: They had fallen over the knife's edge, and he didn't have the strength to do the right thing. Even though he didn't understand his feelings and would have preferred to ignore them, Effie, here and now, was all he wanted. He knew she felt the same way. He had seen it in the looks she had given him in the doctor's office when she thought no one was paying attention to her. Haymitch knew she was just as confused as he was. He only hoped they wouldn't regret any of this.