Hello, hello!

First thing first, this story is dedicated to Chrisi who is always so lovely on twitter and ff and who always leaves long and detailed reviews.

This story will be in 8 parts, it is inspired by Adele's "Hello" and was supposed to be a one shot but took a life of its own. It will take the prompts' place for two weeks and will be updated from Mondays to Thursdays which should take us to the 24th so it's a countdown of sort until Christmas.

The themes involved in this story are canon compliant and, as such, can be disturbing. Read at your own discretion but there will be mention of drugs, suicidal tendencies, depression and torture. It sounds gloomy but I think it's not that gloomy. This is a story of rebirth. It's the season after all ;)

This is, very obviously, a hayffie story.

I hope you enjoy! Do let me know what you think!

Running Out Of Time

Hello, it's me
I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet
To go over everything
They say that time's supposed to heal ya
But I ain't done much healing

It's Peeta who tells him she's not doing well.

To be fair, Plutarch has been hinting at it for a while now but Haymitch has been determined to ignore the tentative pleas for him to do something because the former Gamemaker is at the end of his tether with her. The Secretary of Communications and Effie aren't truly friends, he's just the guy Haymitch has tasked with keeping an eye on her. She doesn't talk to Plutarch, she refuses his offers to help with jobs or money, and she generally ignores him when he tries to talk about her health or frame of mind.

Haymitch knows all this, what he doesn't know is what to do about it. She may not really like Plutarch but she hates him.

So he lets it slide, he pretends he doesn't know, doesn't care. He pretends he doesn't think about her at least once a day, between one glass and the next. He pretends he doesn't pick up the phone and almost tears it off the wall a thousand times.

The phone rings sometimes but Haymitch often ignores it, tired of Plutarch checking up on him, tired of having to answer for Katniss' actions. Katniss is doing as well as can be expected, she's not killing random people in the street… It's as good as can be. He would like to be left in peace, to try and forget the war like the kids are doing, to rebuild. He can't. Every time he tries, Plutarch calls and throws him back into it with insensitive questions about how they are holding on in Twelve.

He wonders if that's the way the former Gamemaker tries to get Effie to confide in him and concludes that it's no surprise she deflects. He often muses that if people stopped asking how they are, they might have a chance at actually getting better. They don't need the constant reminder, they don't need to be treated like they're made of breakable glass…

One night the phone rings several times and he ignores it, busy fixing up some food for the geese that are now residing in his backyard.

He knows he should have answered when Katniss shows up five minutes later, all grim face and hollow eyes. He slowly places down the bowl in which he has been mixing crumbs and grains and wipes his hands on the back of his pants, waiting for her to deliver the bad news.

He's expecting something about the government or maybe Annie and little Finn – they're all worried about how Annie is coping even with Johanna there to help, Jo isn't mother material after all.

"Effie overdosed." Katniss says, matter of fact, and the words ring in his ears for a long time after the girl is gone.

She's not dead and that's something, he supposes. He spends the night sitting at his kitchen table, staring at the green bottle of wine that shines under the flickering lights. He needs to fix the neon, he figures. He needs to fix a lot of things.

In the morning, the kids show up with fresh bread and goat cheese. Haymitch makes coffee and they share a silent breakfast. Everyone is tensed, moody. Peeta is the first one to suggest they should go to the Capitol.

"Katniss can't." Haymitch immediately counters.

"I don't really want to anyway." the girl adds. "You should go. Both of you."

Leaving Katniss alone isn't an option either though and Haymitch doesn't think he will be welcomed. They don't exactly decide Peeta is going but by noon his bags are packed and he catches the late afternoon train for Four where he will find a connection for the Capitol.

The boy heads straight to the hospital, assesses the situation and calls with news that aren't completely reassuring. She's awake and coherent but swears it's all a misunderstanding, an accident of dosage with her sleeping pills. Peeta doesn't actually say it but what he hints to Haymitch is enough. He doesn't think it was an accident and it chills him to the bones.

Peeta leaves her hospital room's phone number.

It takes him two days to work up the nerves to dial it. It rings and rings and rings and he hears the click of someone picking up just as he is about to hang up. He's met with silence and labored breathing.

"Hello." he says, a little tentative. "It's me, sweetheart."

The breathing audibly catches on the other end of the line, then there is a soft click and the line rings dead. He stares at the phone in his hand and then slowly places it back on the cradle.

Well… This settles that, he thinks.

He wanders around his kitchen for a few minutes, a little lost and a lot restless. He picks up a bottle but puts it back down.

Ten minutes haven't passed when the phone rings but he doesn't even hesitate before picking up.

"Effie?" he asks.

He's met with silence again, only soft ragged breathing. He licks his lips nervously, wondering how she even managed to call him back. Does she still know his number by heart? Has she hung up by accident before or has it been deliberate? No… No, it couldn't be an accident, not when it has taken her ten minutes to call back.

"I just wanted…" he starts and falters. He was about to say he just wants news but that's a lie, isn't it? "I wanted to hear your voice." he admits. "I kind of miss it. How stupid is that?" He snorts. "I've been meaning to call for a while but… You know I'm not good at keeping track of time. The more you wait…" He stops and swallows hard. "Guess I'm not good at keeping track without you to do it for me." The silence goes on so he does to. "Wasn't sure you would like to hear from me, to be honest."

Her breath catches again. It seems quick and muffled and he wonders if she's crying. He hates it when she cries, he has always hated it even back when he couldn't stand her…

"What did you do that for, now?" he chides her not so gently. "You could have died. Accident, my ass, sweetheart. You don't mess up by accident. Ever."

"You left me behind."

How ironic is it that the first words she speaks to him in two years are the very same she has spoken to him last?

"I explained…" he tries.

"Again." she whispers. "You left me behind again. Alone."

He could argue that he has left her in Plutarch's care but he knows that it won't make much difference in her mind.

"You wouldn't have come to Twelve with me." he counters. "You hated me."

"I hate you." she confirms coldly and he closes his eyes.

The words are daggers that stab him in the heart. He doesn't know when he has started to care about her, he only knows he was in the middle before he knew he had started. He realized he was in love with her in Thirteen, where the lack of her was almost worse than the lack of liquor, where the withdrawals didn't come from where he had expected it to come.

He blindly reaches for the bottle abandoned on the kitchen table and takes a long mouthful. She must hear the splotch of liquor against the glass or maybe the gulp of his swallowing because she chuckles. It's all wrong. Bitter and sharp. "I see you haven't managed to shake out your demons. How hypocritical of you to deny me mine."

"Never tried to kill myself yet." he mumbles.

He almost regrets the words but he has never been one to chide away from the truth.

"I didn't… It was an accident." she snaps.

"Sure." he humors her. They remain silent for a moment and then he shrugs, forgetting she can't see him. "Time's not so much of a healer, right?"

"No." she grants. "I just… I don't want to be alone anymore. I have never been good at being alone."

"I can come." he offers immediately. "We could talk."

He doesn't let himself linger on the thought of going back to the Capitol. The city isn't what it was anymore. It's a sad little thing now, according to Plutarch. Some Districts are developing into challenging megalopolis, Two and Three amongst them. The former Gamemaker is always insisting he would never recognized the place. Maybe it's a good time to see for himself.

"Peeta is here." she counters.

"I know, yeah." he answers. "Katniss would have liked to see you but…"

"She called." she cuts him off and the clipping tone tells him the girl has called earlier than he has and, as such, is forgiven her inability to be with her. Katniss and Peeta have kept in touch anyway. They didn't leave her alone.

"I wanted to come." he confesses.

"But you didn't." she retorts.

"But I didn't." he sighs. "I'm not the bravest man, sweetheart. You know that."

"You are brave enough when it truly matters to you." she spits out. "You were brave when it was about winning the Games to go back to your girlfriend and your family, when it was about fighting for the children or your rebellion. It's me you can never be brave for. It is not a stretch to understand it is because I don't matter enough."

He's tired and the conversation isn't settling well with his stomach, he rubs his face and then brings the bottle to his lips again. "I think you got it backwards. It's because you matter too much." She doesn't answer that, doesn't believe him probably. "Peeta says you're going to be in the hospital for a few weeks. I can catch a train tomorrow…"

"No." It doesn't leave any room for arguments.

"Effie, they're going to sever you from the pills. Withdrawals aren't fun. You will need someone there with you." he insists "Once you're released…"

"Peeta said he would stay." she cuts him off. "I told him it isn't necessary but he is adamant." She waits a few seconds and then sighs. "I don't want you here, Haymitch."

Deep down, he knew it would be her answer even before he made the call. That's the reason he has been so reluctant to contact her in the last couple of years. He saw hatred in her eyes the last time they talked, a betrayal he would never been able to atone for.

"You're a strong woman." he tells her because it's the truth. "One of the strongest I know. I just want you to remember this, alright? You can get through this. You can… You can learn to live again, find a good life…"

"That's a little hard to do when half the country hates me for being an escort and the other half hates me for betraying them." she laughs bitterly. "People want me dead. You should just have spared yourself the trouble and let me die in my cell. Or let Coin execute me."

"Don't be stupid." he growls. "Don't ever say that again. Too many people died, Effie. Finnick, Prim… You owe it to those people to stay alive. What you did… What you tried to do with those pills, that was spitting on their grave. I won't feel sorry for you because you're alive, Princess. That's a line I won't cross."

She's silent for a while and when she speaks next he can hear the shame in her voice. "You are right and I am sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just don't fuck up again." he says. "Don't give up." He closes his eyes and leans against the wall. "You're sure you don't want me to come?"

He doesn't care if he sounds like he's begging. He hasn't seen her in two years and he really, really wants to. He misses her. He misses everything from her annoying high-pitched voice to her soft skin.

"I am certain." she replies and she sounds certain, that's the worst thing. She does hesitate for one second after delivering this blow though. "You may call again sometimes. If you wish."

"Tomorrow?" he asks, hopeful. It's more than he has been hoping for, a fragile peace offering he is only too desperate to snatch.

"In a few days, maybe?" she tempers.

"Yeah." he agrees at once. "Yeah, sure. A few days."

"Goodnight, Haymitch." she sighs.

He wants to keep her talking because it's too soon for goodbyes now that he has found her back but he knows not to push it.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." he whispers.

He waits until the click tells him she has hung up before placing his own phone back in its cradle.

It feels like a victory and a defeat all at once.

So what did you think of this first chapter? Let me know!