13.

The humming of the machines was loud and made her head throb long before she even opened her eyes.

"Effie?"

The voice was anxious and hands immediately clasped her right one, holding it with a certain firmness but not tight enough it would hurt. It was the only thing that didn't hurt. It was probably a good thing she had grown accustomed to pain at some point, she mused, because her entire ribcage burned every time she took a breath.

Haymitch leaned over her, blocking her whole sight before she could try to figure out where she was and what had happened. His eyes were so grey…

They weren't the only grey thing. The ceiling, the walls…

She heard the heart monitor starting to beep in a frenzy when she finally figured out where she was and why it was so familiar.

"Everything's okay, sweetheart." Haymitch promised, glancing at the machine. "I'm right here, yeah? And you're not dead, that's always a plus."

She blinked, everything felt sluggish : her eyelids, her mind, her body…

"Why…" she croaked, her voice rough with obvious disuse.

"You got shot. Thirteen was the closest place with an advanced medical center." he said, keeping hold on her fingers with one hand and stroking her hair with the other. "That bullet grazed your spine. They were concerned about that for a while."

Her first reflex was to move her feet and she was relieved to see them wriggle under the blankets.

"That was even more stupid than jumping in front of a car." he growled.

For the first time, she realized how bad he looked. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes bloodshot, his fingers were quivering… She figured, rebellion or not, Thirteen still conserved his prohibition act.

"How long…" she rasped out.

"You've been in a medically induced coma for two weeks." he said simply. "They've been decreasing the meds. I've been waiting for days for you to wake up. You've got no right to call me lazy anymore." The hand in her hair stilled and he took a shaky breath. "You scared me to death."

He had thought he had lost her again, she understood.

"You shouldn't have been scared." she slurred. "I'm staying, remember?"

"You never got around to actually say that." he snorted.

"'Thought it was obvious." she mumbled, her eyes closing without her consent. Her whole body felt treacherous.

She woke up several times in the following hours and Haymitch was always there, either impatiently waiting for her to emerge from her medical slumber or annoying the nurses and doctor who wanted to shoo him out of the room. She heard one of the nurses muttering that nothing short of a liquor shipment would make him move. Effie wasn't so sure even that would have been enough.

"The cats?" she asked at some point, still pretty out of it.

"Peeta's taking care of them." he said.

Which reminded her… "The children?"

"They will just love you asked for them after you asked for the cats." he snickered. "They're both fine. Jo and Annie stayed in Twelve to keep an eye on them." There was a small silence and then he sighed. "I kind of punched Plutarch."

She frowned. "What?"

She wished the drugs would leave her system so she could think more clearly but, at the same time, the drugs were keeping the pain at bay and that was the best she could hope for right at that second. The doctor had said he was pleased with her recovery and that the medical coma had been beneficial. They were so optimistic, they thought she might be allowed to leave the following week provided there weren't any more complications.

"That government of his sucks." Haymitch grumbled. "He said they got them all and I trusted him. Fucking mistake, sweetheart, won't make it twice. I'm not letting you out of my sight either. You try to die on me when I do that."

It was a promise he was determined to keep.

Each time Effie woke up he was there. They had assigned him a room somewhere in Thirteen but she would bet he hadn't even put a foot there. He remained glued to the chair next to her bed and visibly withered away. One of the doctors had to threaten him to hook him to a drip if he didn't start eating more. He was in withdrawal again, had been for some time now, but he was brushing aside any offer for help. He barely slept, his eyes sometimes went out of focus for the longest time, other times he flinched at random, his eyes trailed inexistent ghosts that his mind was conjuring, he got angry out of nowhere, threatened people… He never left Effie. Not once.

By the time they moved her out of intensive care to a private room, he was very much sober, dried of alcohol, and in a perpetual awful mood. He snapped at everyone and was so sarcastic, nobody could get a serious answer out of him. Effie wasn't an exception, he wasn't nicer with her than with anyone else but he was protective. Too much sometimes. She was afraid he would try to murder people every time a nurse or a doctor accidentally hurt her while conducting their examination.

He hated Thirteen with a passion that she shared.

She had been there for a day or two after her rescue from prison, before she was shipped back to the Capitol, and her memories of that time were vague but it was enough to know nobody in that place had cared one bit if the escort died or stayed alive. They had done only the strict minimum for her and they hadn't wasted any painkillers.

She couldn't say which one of them was more relieved when the doctor declared she was finally free to go home. There was no question as to where that was.

They arrived in Twelve on a cold winter morning.

She had barely stepped out of the hovercraft that her arms were already full of Katniss and Peeta. She hugged them both for dear life, not even caring about the slight tinge of pain it caused. Annie hugged her too, chiding her gently about worrying everyone. Johanna sneered at her and declared she was a fucking moron which Effie chose to take as a sign of affection.

The kittens scattered away when they entered the house and hid, not used to their presence anymore. She barely got a glimpse of Silk's brushy tail. Haymitch tried not to make it obvious but she saw him creeping closer to the cupboard step by step. His howl of rage when he saw the empty bottles could probably be heard three houses down.

"I'm going to kill that boy." he spat, his hand already on the back door handle.

"Can you yell at Peeta after you help me to the bedroom?" she asked, not fazed by his anger. "I'm feeling a bit faint."

His furor disappeared at once in a guilty expression and he wrapped an arm around her waist, careful not to jostle her too much. He wasn't exactly in the best of shape himself so actually reaching the bedroom was a bit difficult.

"I will get your stuff." he said once she was sitting on his – their – bed.

"Just give me one of your shirts." she countered. None of her nightgowns would be enough against the cold anyway. One of the children had lighted a fire before they arrived but it was clear the house hadn't been heated for some time. He helped her change despite her protests that she could manage by herself and he tucked her in. The sheets were clean, she made a note to thank the children. "Come to bed." she requested, once she was safely tucked under the warm blankets.

He was shuffling from one foot to the other, torn between holding on to his promise to not let her out of his sight and his yearning for liquor. In the end, she won. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed with her.

He spooned her but so loosely and cautiously, she rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to break, you know." she sighed, tugging on his arm until he was almost wrapped around her.

"Who knows with you." he grumbled, pressing a kiss against her neck. "You jump in front of cars, you jump in front of bullets…" He snorted. "I'm going to keep you locked in this room from now on, sweetheart."

"And what will you do with me?" she grinned, turning her head to look at him.

"Wouldn't you like to know." he smirked.

He complied with the unspoken plea for a kiss but they were careful to keep it chaste enough. She wasn't up for much yet and frustration wasn't something either of them dealt well with.

She dozed off, only waking up when she felt the mattress sunk very slightly at the foot of the bed. Haymitch was snoring against her neck, properly asleep for the first time in weeks probably. She wasn't surprised when she saw Vodka climbing their legs and standing there like a conquering emperor on top of a mountain, its little nose sniffing around. She moved as if to scratch its head but it avoided her hand until she handed it for inspection. Once the kitten was sure she was who she appeared to be, he went to investigate Haymitch and when it was satisfied with his identity, it settled above their heads on the pillow and started purring.

She wasn't overly surprised when the cats started to invade the bedroom one by one, each one submitting them to a sniffing inspection. When she finally fell asleep, absent-mindedly petting Mahogany, she and Haymitch were lost in a sea of sleeping kittens.

She felt good.

At peace.

She hadn't been herself when she had arrived in Twelve over a month earlier but, to be fair, she hadn't been herself since the second Quarter Quell.

She felt like herself now. Her old self.

Haymitch drew her closer to him in his sleep, mumbling her name in his dreams.

Better than herself, she mused, she felt complete.

The End

I'm so sad to see this story go! I hoped you enjoyed it, even with last week mean cliffy ;) Please let me know what you think of this last chapter and don't miss next week new story! I will give you a hint, it's an AU and it takes place at sea.