It's About Time

"We have to go back, Haymitch," Effie gasped against his lips. Her body pressed against his, filling his hands perfectly, as if it was wanted that way. Which was nonsense, of course. It didn't change the lust, the need that was coursing through Haymitch's own veins.

"We should," Haymitch murmured hoarsely, his mouth trailing from her face, down her jaw to her neck. Effie's fingers tugged at his hair with a newfound intensity. Laetitia had angered her. Enough to make her invent a fake sponsor to lure him away from her. A meeting that had led them back to the closet outside the lounge under false pretenses. "We're lucky no one saw us."

Effie angled her head away from Haymitch, searching for his eyes. Her hands slid from his head down to his chest. To the half-open shirt. His jacket had landed on the floor before he could even lock the door. "Are you mad?"

"No."

"But I am. I am angry. But the alternative to my excessively friendly approach would probably have ended with me getting fired." Effie seemed to be serious. Haymitch pressed a longing kiss on her mouth.

"More than that. Even your behavior just now was borderline. Disrespectful. Not that it bothers me, but from her perspective, it was. When a situation is so public, you can't let your feelings take over, no matter which direction they're leaning." The seriousness of his tone was drowned out by another kiss. "Even if it was pretty hot."

A breath later, Haymitch had her pressed against the wall again, his hands wandering all over her body. It was hard for him to keep his eyes off her for long. Usually, red was Effie's color, but this soft rosy pink had him mesmerized. Her dress was tight-fitting in the main part, draped in a second layer of sheer, smooth tulle, like a veil that started at her hips. Dozens of life-sized flowers were sewn into the fabric from her waist upward. Effie looked like a garden bed of various dark pink blooms. Her smile was as wide as the open blossoms, if not wider. Her eyes radiated with such vibrant life that Haymitch couldn't have looked away if he tried. He decided this was his favorite dress so far.

But instead of voicing any of his thoughts, Haymitch leaned in toward Effie, cupping her soft cheeks in his hands, and gave her one last, yearning kiss on the lips — a preview of what the night had in store. Then, he stepped back and pulled away from her.

"The Feast won't wait."

oOo

The Feast was a suicide mission. In the middle of the swamp, because the way back to the cornucopia would have been too long and unprotected. A table in a wide clearing that had been prepared in advance by the Gamemakers to provide enough hiding places in the undergrowth and trees. The remaining careers – Cashmere and Magnus – took advantage of it. The two District partners had arrived at the clearing hours before the actual event to lie in wait.

Elowen, fortunately, stayed away. She lacked nothing essential to life. She would be able to continue to feed on her berries and nuts, and she also had water nearby. The other two tributes weren't so lucky. The girl from 6 had been stung by a trackerjacker and the sting had become infected. She needed medicine if she was to survive. The boy from 7 was drawn to the Feast for the same reason he had already killed once: hunger.

Haymitch and Effie had mingled with the people on the terrace to watch the Feast. For the moment, Elowen was out of danger, so they could watch with a somewhat more relaxed conscience. The day was drawing to a close, but time was dragging. Usually, the hours followed one another so quickly that in the evenings, Haymitch wondered where all the time had flown. Today was different. Today, the minutes crept by slowly. Like a warning. As if fate knew that something decisive would happen today.

The trumpets in the arena sounded and the crowd of Capitols automatically leaned toward the screens. The Feast began and the invisible force field around the table with the five backpacks flickered as it was deactivated. Nerve-racking tension hung in the air and it made Haymitch nervous. Today would end in bloodshed. If it didn't completely end today. But for that to happen, the Gamemakers would have to lure Elowen out of hiding.

The action that the Capitols were hoping for was slow to arrive. For now. Haymitch knew a disaster when he saw one. All of the tributes except Elowen were in the clearing. All of them hidden, but not for long. They were here for a reason, and that reason wouldn't stay on the table in the middle of the swamp forever.

The Careers knew they had to keep a low profile if the others were to come out. So they did just that. A sheep would never willingly go near the wolf if it knew of its presence. Even though the sheep should have known what this Feast was for. Not to heal anyone's wounds and definitely not to help. The game demanded blood and the Gamemakers served only the rules of the game.

The boy from District 7 was the first to give in. Ten minutes had passed, and five remained until the table would disappear behind the force field again. He had just gotten up from his crouch to approach the backpacks when a shadow on his right made him pause.

"Tyra from District Six is trying her odds!" Caesar Flickerman commented excitedly, and the people on the terrace were caught up in his tone as if this event was nothing more than a regular sport where people cheered for their favorite team.

Sixteen-year-old Tyra was quite quick on her feet despite her infection. She skidded to a stop in front of the backpack with her number on it and reached for the strap. She had just slung it over her shoulder when Cashmere emerged from the undergrowth. Slowly and with a concentrated expression, as if she were actually the wolf. Her straggly hair was plastered to her forehead, dirty and unkempt from nine days of deplorable sanitary conditions.

Tyra's whole body froze at the sight of the girl from District 1. Her legs halted for a split second, and you could see that the shock hit her hard. She knew that her chances of getting out of here alive were getting smaller with every breath she took. So she turned on her heel to disappear in the direction she had come from, only to be confronted by Magnus, who blocked her path.

Tyra's death was a quick affair. Decapitation by Cashmere's sword. Quick but bloody. Unlike at the beginning of the Games, the sparkle had disappeared from her eyes. The girl killed without hesitation but no longer dragged it out unnecessarily. You could see that she had lost the joy of killing. Maybe out of pity or disgust or because she had realized that everything seemed glorious on TV but was actually a load of crap. Haymitch, for his part, had no pity for Cashmere. Her brother had been in the arena. She must have known what was coming. But she had volunteered anyway. It was her own stupid fault.

A fault that she would probably have to live with for many years to come. With the death of the female tribute from District 6, only four tributes remained. Cashmere and Magnus were still a team, but every idiot knew who would leave this arena alive. The boy from 7 had fled when Tyra's head had rolled through the swamp with a dull splash. The Careers hadn't noticed him. But they were good trackers.

Haymitch knew exactly how these Games would turn out. As in many other years, some underdogs were still alive at the end. The Gamemakers would lure them out of hiding, using force if necessary. They would round up the tributes until the Careers were on their heels.

With a sigh, Haymitch turned to Effie. Although she was usually a loud personality, moments like this cut her off at times. She was probably not even aware of her silence. Effie turned her head, and their eyes met over the cheers of the people around her. Her lips turned upward, hiding the emotionless features that had been there a blink of an eye before. A mask of mirth covered Effie's face. A wall meant to keep him and everyone else on the terrace away from her feelings.

Haymitch felt his heart clench at the sight of her; he felt sorry for the suffering woman before his eyes. His eyes softened and he was about to crack a joke when someone suddenly tugged on his sleeve. Strongly and without accident. In the Capitol, it was an affront. As Haymitch turned to the side, his heart stopped. For a brief moment, he felt a fear in his stomach that hadn't been this strong for a long time. He couldn't say what it was. It was his instinct.

Mags stood before him. A few heads shorter than Haymitch, but age hadn't taken away her strength. Haymitch felt time around him suddenly seem to move even more slowly, as if it hadn't already been creeping along more slowly than usual. Mags's serious, sea-green eyes bored into his, the usual warmth in them replaced by an urgency. In a movement that was far too slow, Haymitch raised his eyebrows.

"What's wrong, Mags?" he croaked, feeling as small as a child next to the old victor, even though he towered over her by far. Behind him, he felt Effie step up next to him.

"I don't have time to explain myself," Mags said, her voice rough, but there was a spark of concern in it. An emotion that made the hairs on Haymitch's neck stand up. "Haymitch, listen to me carefully now," she finally continued, gripping his wrist so tightly that it cut off the blood. "Don't freak out, listen and do what I tell you."

"You're not exactly keeping me calm," Haymitch replied, pulling away from Mags so violently that he stumbled against Effie. This was the end of something, he knew it deep in his bones. He had no idea what it was about, but he knew this atmosphere; knew this coldness that clung to his body like a second skin. It wasn't the first time Haymitch had been on the receiving end of bad news. He knew the feeling when all he wanted was to collapse and never get back up. The kind of news that ripped you out of life, that brought everything crashing down with it. "Spit it out, Mags," Haymitch hissed defensively, the venom in his voice the only defense he had. In a world like this, he was a powerless man.

"Chaff contacted me," Mags continued, looking past him to Effie for the first time, who was eyeing them both with concern. An impulse crossed Mags's face, so quickly that Haymitch's survival instincts deliberately ignored it. "He says you have to return to the Training Center at once. There are Peacekeepers on your floor. I don't have any details, but he says it doesn't look good."

Haymitch blinked. Time stopped, stood still. Peacekeepers? What the hell did Peacekeepers want with him? Everything was as it always had been. He had done nothing wrong. Nothing had happened except for the escapades with that intrusive sponsor and the oversensitive Peacekeeper. And they certainly wouldn't storm his floor for this little thing. Or whatever was going on there. It didn't make sense. Haymitch's brain was racing.

Then Effie began to speak. "We cannot just leave. We still have a child in the race."

And time suddenly started to move forward. We still have a child in the race. We. Everything wasn't as it always had been. Nothing was as it used to be. District 12 was alive. District 12 had Effie. Haymitch had Effie. Effie.

It all really came crashing down on Haymitch like a violent, shattering wave. He took a breath and suddenly everything was different. The air had changed, smelled different, felt different. Haymitch blinked. Again. And finally woke up.

All he could manage was a nod. Mags patted his arm, obviously able to see something on his face that Effie couldn't. He turned to her. To her large, cornflower-blue eyes, which were studying him restlessly. "I'll hurry," Haymitch said, his tone mechanical and not his own. It was as if someone else were controlling him from afar. The part of him that had been warning for weeks that this wouldn't end well. "You have to stay here to help Elowen if something happens."

But Effie, stubborn as ever, shook her head vehemently. "The Peacekeepers have no right to enter the penthouse without authorization. I want to confront them. This goes against all politeness. There is no reason for such unacceptable behavior."

Haymitch put his hand on her shoulder. It was an effort. He gave her that piercing look with which he punished her when she didn't understand the hidden connections of the Capitol. "This are the Hunger Games, princess," he managed to say. "Forget your manners. Think of Elowen. I'll be back soon. I promise."

Effie swallowed his words and nodded. She knew he was right. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep his promise. There was no proof, but he trusted his instincts. So he squeezed Effie's shoulder, casually brushing her hair, and abruptly pulled away from her. Suddenly time rushed forward, as if on a wild ride. As if it wanted everything to be over as quickly as possible. As if it sensed that Haymitch wouldn't be able to bear anything else.

oOo

Although Haymitch wanted nothing more than to ask Chaff about his precise observations, he immediately took the elevator up to his floor. At first glance, everything seemed as usual. The Avoxes were standing in their assigned places. The living room, bar and dining area were empty. No one was here. No sign of Peacekeepers anywhere. But something was different. The Avoxes' facial features seemed too stony, too rule-abiding and emotionless. The atmosphere was oppressive, as if everything around him exploded at any second.

Haymitch didn't notice the change until he entered his own room. The rest of the penthouse was always kept clean and tidy. But not his room. His room was a complete mess from the beginning to the end of the Games. At least that had been the case until this morning. Now he was greeted by a neat, tidy room; cleaned down to the last speck of dust.

The Peacekeepers had been looking for something. Haymitch didn't know what. They had been looking at his few personal belongings. The cupboards and drawers were so tidy, the floor so free of clothes and bottles, that he hardly recognized his own room. He stared and stared and still saw nothing. What did they want from him?

Haymitch wandered to the bed, where the sheets were freshly made and carefully folded, and he wondered if they had also snooped around in Effie's room, if they–

Haymitch's gaze flew back to the bed. He widened his eyes, forcing the focus into his vision. He stared and stared, wondering how he could have missed it. His body froze to ice. He felt like he was falling. An abyss opened up beneath his feet and he plunged into the black depths. All the fear, all the panic that Haymitch had learned to carefully put away for years spread through his veins like poison. For one agonizingly long minute, he was unable to breathe. For one cruelly long minute, he thought that he was going to die of a heart attack here and now. That his life was finally over. That would have been merciful. But his fate had never been merciful.

Haymitch fell to his knees. With such a bang that his vision went black. His pulse was racing. His heart was pounding against his chest so wildly it seemed as if it wanted to tear the skin apart. His shaking fingers touched the floor, searching for balance. There was hardly any alcohol in his system.

Slowly, so painfully slowly, Haymitch crawled forward. Towards the bed. He had to see it again; had to make sure. Maybe his eyes had played tricks on him. Maybe Chaff had misinterpreted the Peacekeepers and this was just some routine. A routine that Effie had forgotten? Haymitch leaned on the edge of the bed and peered over it. Towards the pillow. As if he could from it.

A letter lay on Haymitch's pillow. An envelope made of thick, white paper. The Capitol's coat of arms was emblazoned on the red wax seal. Every victor knew what this letter meant. What it stood for. And what would happen if you refused to accept its contents.

Haymitch lowered his head, leaned his forehead against the mattress and closed his eyes. They knew. They knew about him and Effie. There was no other explanation. They had to think it was something serious. Maybe it was just punishment for 12's good performance this year. But he couldn't take any risks. No. Every breath he continued to spend at Effie's side was a risk.

Coldness ran through Haymitch's body, shooting through his blood, penetrating every fiber of his bones, making his teeth chatter. It felt as if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped, but he didn't have the strength to look out the window. It was midsummer, this ice certainly didn't come from outside.

There was no strength in his muscles as he leaned back against the bed and slid to the floor. He was shaking; trembling. He had no idea how to calm his body, his mind. There were no words, no facts that could give comfort. There was nothing that could change the course of events.

This was Panem. This was the Capitol. And he had received enough warnings, all of which he had ignored. For this spark of luck that should have made him suspicious from the start; that should have made him think. This was his fault. Everything that would happen from now on was his fault alone.

Haymitch gasped and stared at the wall, his vision wavering and blurred. From far away he could hear his own rattling breath. From far away he could hear the screaming voice in the back of his head trying to hold him together. His survival instinct. But what was the point of this life if there was nothing to hold on to? He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head sink between his raised knees.

Get up, Haymitch, murmured a voice whose sound he had almost forgotten over the decades. A voice that only spoke to him at the rarest of moments. Usually when he had drunken himself senseless.

I can't, he wanted to answer, but his throat was too tight for him to utter a single word.

I didn't raise you to be a coward, Haymitch, his mother said, nonetheless. Despite the pain, Haymitch wanted to prolong the moment; wanted to look up and see her standing in the doorway. It must have been years now since he had last been so low that his brain had conjured her up of all people.

I can't, Haymitch repeated in his mind, feeling all control over emotions and memories leave him. Images flashed before his mind's eye. His body recoiled from their brutal reality, but he was too far from the light to shove them back into their drawers. This was the reason why he stayed away from good things. Good things, sooner or later, only led to more pain; to a new beginning of forgetting.

Get up, Haymitch.

Haymitch wanted nothing more than to lean towards his mother. To feel her skin brush against his cheek. To breathe in her scent. To look into her light grey eyes that were so similar to his.

You have no choice, Haymitch.

Haymitch pressed his hands against his eyes to get the past out of his head.

Do you remember what happened the last time you stepped out of line?

How could he not remember when he could see the images crystal clear in front of him, as if he had been thrown back in time fourteen years. As if he were once again standing at the edge of the square, in the center of which lay his girl. Motionless, with a bullet in her head.

Look, Haymitch. History will repeat itself if you don't act.

Haymitch blinked. He shook his head violently, gasped for air, and opened his eyelids. Beneath him, his body continued to shake. Unyielding. Unforgiving.

Effie.

Haymitch knew they couldn't carry on as before. Haymitch knew he had to stop any intimate contact. No, even reduce all their contact to a minimum. But what would happen if he continued to sit here on the floor with his back to the letter? What would they do to Effie if he ignored the letter?

You know what they'll do with her.

His mother was right. He had no choice. If he wanted Effie to live – and he more than owed her that after all that shit – then he would have to face reality.

Haymitch's legs wobbled as if he had drunk gallons of alcohol. Somehow, he managed to pull himself together. His pulse pounded through his temples like the loud ticking of a bomb. His body was heavy as lead, and it seemed like an eternity before he turned to face the bed. When he finally leaned forward and reached for the envelope, minutes had passed.

For Effie, his survival instinct whispered, as if it wasn't sure Haymitch could survive another loss himself. So he ripped open the letter.

Name, time, address. Nothing more. Fourteen years of silence and yet nothing had changed in the Capitol's methods.

Haymitch would save Effie's life. This time he wouldn't watch another life taken because of him. But the price he had to pay was the truth. He knew he would never be able to tell her the truth. It would only make things worse.

Haymitch crumpled the paper, tucked it into his suit jacket, and trotted over to the glass cabinet across the room. The cold was gone as he reached out for the first bottle he could get his hands on. His mind wasn't here anyway. His nerves had shut down. As the liquid flowed down his throat, he didn't feel the burning in his throat.

No cold. No burning. Haymitch felt nothing as he drained the bottle, as if it were nothing more than a single glass. Haymitch felt nothing as he left his room and left the door open. Someone would close it. Someone would always be following him around to correct his carelessness.

There was nothing in his head. Not even the pain or the shock from before. Everything was blown away by this one thought. By this one fact.

In order to save Effie's life, he would have to make it a living hell for her. And his own along with it.

oOo

Hours had passed. Hours since Haymitch had left the sponsors' lounge and not returned. A bad feeling had spread in Effie's stomach from the moment Mags Flanagan had personally visited Haymitch. Since then, the victor from District 4 had vanished into thin air. Disappeared just as suddenly as Haymitch. Without a trace and in the blink of an eye.

With every second that Haymitch was gone, Effie became more nervous. Something was wrong. Not right at all. She could feel it in her bones. Everything seemed to be brewing into one big fiasco, both inside and outside the arena.

The Careers had picked up the trail of the boy from District 7 who had escaped the feast while they were finishing off the girl from District 6. He was heading straight for Elowen's part of the arena. Maybe two more hours of wandering and he would lure the Careers right to her if he didn't change course first.

It was just after sunset and Haymitch was gone for over six hours when Effie decided she could no longer wait for Haymitch to keep his promise. The promise to return. Worry spread through her veins. Because of the look Mags had given Haymitch. Because of the fact that Haymitch had made a promise at all, as if he had been trying at all costs to dissuade her from following him. Because of Haymitch's absence, which had stretched on too long to be natural.

Effie didn't want to leave. The boy from District 6 hadn't yet reached Elowen's part of the swamp. But it wouldn't be long before Elowen would use the darkness to stock up on supplies. It wouldn't be long before she left the safety of her tree. Every morning and every evening during the shadows of night. Effie was afraid of what would happen when she turned her back on the screen. But there was no money, no way to do anything. All she had left was to find Haymitch.

And she did. But not in the way Effie expected. She was sitting in the car when the screen of her tablet lit up. Nothing unusual. All day long, news from the Capitol that might be relevant to the Games had been pouring in. Updates from the arena, reports on sponsorship payments, private messages and celebrity news. This was the latter. The only reason Effie paid any attention to the device was because she couldn't watch the Hunger Games from here in the car.

Effie had to look twice, blink several times, to read the celebrity news headline correctly. Her heart stopped in her chest and staggered for several seconds as shock ran through her body. What was wrong with the journalists? Could they not even tell the victors apart anymore?

She clicked on the display, already half-pulling her phone out of her pocket to call the editorial office. This was defamation. Fatal, in the final hours of the Games. But then the page opened and the picture that jumped out at Effie showed Haymitch without a doubt. The headline hadn't understated it.

Haymitch grinned at the camera. So casually and brazenly that it made Effie's stomach turn. The famous model with her hands wrapped around his torso might as well have been naked, as her green designer dress covered so little. The image changed to another. They were in a nightclub. The lights shone down on them in bright, colorful tones. Now Haymitch had bent his head to the model's cheek to give her a kiss. In the next frame, she was laughing as he winked at the camera.

Effie felt both sick and dizzy and had to pull herself together to keep from throwing up on her dress. She deactivated the tablet, turned the screen away from her face and stared straight ahead with wide eyes. This was wrong. Something wasn't right. Haymitch had told her in detail why he had been with Laetitia Lowell, explaining how little the meeting had to do with joy.

Was this again one of those situations? It had to be. Even if questions remained unanswered. Even if inconsistencies lingered in the air.

Mags's urgent expression flashed before Effie's mind's eye. The tension and reluctance that had gone through Haymitch. None of it matched the image of the young victor she had just seen on the news.

Haymitch had promised her that he wouldn't engage in such a deal again to help District 12. But he had also promised to return to the sponsor's lounge.

Only when the Avox silently opened the car door for Effie did she realize that they had already arrived at the Training Center. She wasted no time, shakily got to her feet and ignored the Avox 's helping hand. She ran quickly to the elevator, her heart in her chest a complete mess.

Something was wrong, Effie felt it more strongly than before. The change in the atmosphere, in her every movement. She hit the button of the elevator, and the doors slid silently shut. As she shot toward the sky, she had to make an effort to keep calm.

It was nothing. Everything was fine. A misunderstanding. A miscommunication. She had to be someone he knew. Someone he liked. He was there of his own free will. He hadn't lied to her.

As the elevator rapidly approached the penthouse of District 12, Effie knew deep in her chest that it was all a lie. She understood that the house of cards had collapsed, even though she didn't know what it meant.

-

Here I am again. With the chapter that introduces the end. It was pretty hard for me to write it, but the next one will be at least as unpleasant. But we all know how this ends. You can see what Effie's dress looks like via my Pinterest. How did you like the chapter? It was actually supposed to be called "Betrayal for Salvation", but the time thing somehow carried through the chapter more, especially with Haymitch.

Otherwise I don't have much to say, except that my heart hurts. I really enjoyed writing this fanfic, at least the beautiful Hayffie part, but what would a story be without its dark sides? There will be two more chapters before the story is completely finished. This was it, surprisingly.

Skyllen