GUESS WHO'S BACK! Thank ABC Family for playing the Hunger Games over the weekend. I watched it and I learned two facts about me: I REALLY hate Katniss (which is a shame cus I LOVE JLaw). She is the most ANNOYING main character in this HISTORY of main characters. I mean… most characters MATURE and develop over time. She didn't. Blah.

SECONDLY EVERYTIME Haymitch came on screen I SCREAMED. I SO love me some Haymitch. He's STILL my favorite character. So NATURALLY this fanfic is about him.

And Effie. Whom I love. I mean I love Elizabeth Banks. I saw her real estate commercial and screamed "OMG EFFIE!" and proceeded to run THROUGH my TV.

So. This is Hayffie. Who I still ship. I am SO not in the mood the write another Everlark fanfic. I'm pretty sure I'm still recovering from Rise From the Ashes. I reread it about a week ago. It was a great story but it definitely burned me out. I blame Katniss.

As usual, I'm not Suzanne Collins. If I were, Hunger Games would have ended WAY differently. ENJOY!

She'd been looking at him differently for a while now. He wasn't sure why he cared, except that when he was sober, he still felt things, and noticed things, and damn it all to hell if he didn't see the faint smile on her overly painted face.

He pretended it gave him the heebie-jeebies, because the alternative was unacceptable.

Effie fucking Trinkett.

Half the time he didn't even know what to make of her. He missed the days where she were just another Capitol puppet, pissing him off with her constant nagging and assumptions.

Lines were blurred now between the two of them, weren't they? They'd reached this mutual understanding, and though still unspoken about, a part of them had to admit, at the very least to themselves, that things were different, and had been, ever since that night he'd walked in on her and Cinna the first night of the Quarter Quell with their secret plans and designs.

"No, the Mockingjay pin should be black, Cinna, like her suit." Those had been the only words he had heard and then they had noticed him. Her cerulean blue eyes, along with Cinna's coffee brown eyes, had both locked with his, and he stood there, frozen, as he stared at Effie and Cinna, and they boldly stared right back.

Seconds, minutes, or years could have passed for all Haymitch knew. He had no clue how long they were there, the three of them, staring at each other, the silence deafening. Effie didn't even chastise him for his mouth hanging open.

Finally Haymitch shut his mouth, blinked, and turned on his heels and walked out the door, closing it behind him. He looked back, briefly, before the door closed completely, and saw their heads together once again.

Effie Fucking Trinkett.

They'd never talked about it. The kept up their snide remarks and harsh banter, and to anybody who didn't know them, and know them well, it'd seem like any other typical Haymitch and Effie moment. But they knew that the insults lacked heat and passion, and had since the 74th Hunger Games.

Their victors had changed them, and changed their attitude towards each other.

It hadn't come without a few bumps and bruises. Long before the secret messages and the gold trinkets and quick glances there was a burning hatred that Haymitch and Effie shared for each other. She in all her prim and proper, heel clicking, wig wearing, rosy cheeks, and bright pink glory was everything Haymitch hated. She was the Capitol personified, and she took her escorting job seriously. She was thrilled to be serving her precious Capitol, and couldn't wait to move to another District.

She'd been utterly mortified to be assigned to District 12. Not the District with Haymitch Abernathy, beloved winner of a Quarter Quell but now well-known drunk. She hated his very being, from his shaggy brown hair that was much too long to the overwhelming stench of his spirits that oozed from his every pore.

He was rude, and insufferable, and wasted away tribute after tribute by getting drunk instead of helping them become victors.

She'd hated him.

And he hated her right back, openly laughing at how horrified she was at the death of their first tribute. She'd been shocked into realizing how painful it was, how difficult it was to do this year after bloody year—pun intended.

Still, the disgust for each other was there, until the ten-year anniversary of the 50th Quarter Quell had arrived, and for the first time ever, she watched Haymitch Abernathy in his Hunger Game, quite the stud, and watched as he destroyed every other Tribute.

He'd killed twenty-three people, and hadn't been but a few years older than her.

She'd been sick to her stomach.

She'd understood a little more then, and tried to be a little more patient, though Lord knows it was hard, with his bad attitude and drunken stupor. He was angry, bitter, heartless, and didn't show a lick of compassion. She coached the Tributes as best as she could, because someone ought to, though there was more days than not where she had to physically force herself to give those Tributes false hope day after day and year after year.

She saw her first glimpse of the real Haymitch Abernathy the minute Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark went toe to toe with him. Oh sure, Katniss was slightly—okay, severely— rough around the edges. But Peeta was simply darling, and though he was the weaker out of the two he still had potential. They both had something no other Tribute had shown them: fight.

And that fight did something to Haymitch. He drank less. He started dressing properly. And dear God he was actually getting their Tributes Sponsors. Effie had no idea who this Haymitch was, but she welcomed him with open arms.

Still, the road to stolen glances and soft smiles, was a hard one. The same Games that had bought them together had nearly broken them apart. They had bonded somewhat from the very beginning of the 74th Hunger Games. From the minute Effie had gotten the chance to laugh at him when they were on the train, it felt like a different time for them.

"Honestly Haymitch," she had said with a smile, "You'd have thought that with how long and how often you've been drinking you'd have known how much to have in order to not fall off stage."

He'd glared at her, with his bloodshot eyes, wiping his cut lip on his shirt, scowling all the while.

"Pipe down, Princess," he had snarled, and she'd walked away cackling, her heels clicking loudly on the tile floor of the train.

When he was sure she was no longer nearby, he cracked his own smile.

One glance. One glance was all it took between them, the glance they shared the second they realized they had a pair of fighters on their hand, and every single thing changed.

Suddenly they were working together and doing everything in their power to do what they could for Katniss and Peeta. And there was never a sound, never a whisper about the longer glances, the quiet smiles, the locked eyes.

And then Rue died.

Sweet, little, angelic Rue, and Effie couldn't, for the life of her, understand why Haymitch was yelling at the television, and cursing Katniss' name, calling her stupid, and foolish, and naïve, all for burying the darling little 11 Tribute.

"Have you no heart, Haymitch?" Effie had finally snapped in anger, for once voicing the thoughts she had had for the past several years. "What Katniss did was heroic! She gave Rue a proper buriel. What's so wrong with that? Are you so selfish that you can't even allow yourself to appreciate such a guesture?"

Effie wasn't sure what had triggered it—which word, which phrase, which syllable, but he'd been furious. For the first time ever she'd witnessed first hand the blazened look in his eyes that had helped him win his Quarter Quell. He walked up to her and grabbed her, roughly, shaking her a few times so that she missed the way Cinna stood up out of his chair, calling Haymitch's name. All she heard was the anger in his voice as he spoke.

"You and your damn naivety. You have no fucking clue what this means. And the pathetic thing is, Princess, is that you don't even wanna know. You're so full of yourself as you worship the Capitol ground you walk on, but got damn it to hell if Katniss Everdeen didn't just sign herself up for a death wish. But what the fuck would you know besides the bullshit your precious President Snow feeds you? Burrying Rue like that was a one way ticket to making sure her family doesn't survie. She's breaking the rules, and Snow is the kind of person who'll keep you alive just so you can suffer for the rest of your life in misery. He did it to me. He killed my whole fucking family and kept me alive just to make sure I knew he did it, and could never do anything about it. I'm a Victor, but I've never won a day in my life. But you didn't know that. You didn't know what cus you never bothered to even ask. And Katniss Everdeen… well the girl is too damn much like me for her own good. So forgive me if I don't stop and smell the fucking roses. This whole got damn place stinks."

The whole conversation couldn't have taken more than thirty seconds, but it rocked Effie to her core. She stood there, in that same spot, for several moments, shaking, numb with disbelief, until she finally noticed Cinna in front of her.

Cinna fixed her a drink and she sipped until she calmed down. She didn't see Haymitch for several hours, though she figured he had something to do with Cineca Crane announcing there could be two Victors, as long as they came from the same District. The only time she caught a glimpse of him was when she'd fallen asleep on the couch, in front of the television, as Katniss watched over Peeta in the cave. She had woken up to their whispers.

"How much longer before you think she gets the medicine?" asked Cinna.

"She's antsy," Haymitch muttered. "It'll be soon. The boy's getting worse."

They were silent for a few more moments and then—

"Is 11 still Rebelling? Last I saw—"

"Are you crazy? If Effie hears you…." At that moment Effie assumed that Haymitch had glanced at her, though she wasn't one hundred percent sure. She'd kept her eyes shut, and it was a miracle that she did. Her heart pounding in her chest, she continued to feign sleep.

"She's alright, Haymitch," Cinna said softly, his voice even lower than before, now forcing Effie to listen even harder.

"Alright enough to trust?"

Cinna didn't pause. "I believe so." Haymitch paused for a long time, so long that Effie didn't think he'd respond. "You should give her a chance. You two are both to blame for the way you treat each other. You've both made incorrect assumptions—"

"I don't have time for this shit Cinna," snapped out Haymitch. Then sighing he apologized. "It's been a long day. I need to sleep. Wake me up when the girl goes to get the medicine."

Effie waited several minutes, until she heard Haymitch's soft snores, before finally opening her eyes.

When she did, they locked with Cinna's.

"You were awake," he said calmly, and stated it as fact.

"I was," replied Effie.

"And?"

Effie stood up, straightening her wig as she did. "Why do you trust me?"

Cinna walked up to her. "Because I'm sober enough to see the pain in your eyes, even if and when Haymitch is not."

Effie closed her eyes briefly. "Goodnight, Cinna."