Thank you all so much for your support of this fic! It really does mean more to me than I can say :')

Effie and Haymitch had been moved from the Training Centre for the beginning of the Games, as each mentor and escort was just before the Games began. It was here. It was time for the annual Hunger Games to begin.

"Five… Four… Three… Two… One…"

Effie and Haymitch stood in front of a large television screen, eyes on their tributes. Bryony looked so small stood on her platform in the middle of the abandoned city square. The Cornucopia was in the centre of the square that was lined with the twenty-four tributes in a circle, the ruins of old shops and office buildings surrounding them. Avis was posed on his platform ready to run straight for the horn, his eyes on a sword that was in the middle of the pile of weaponry.

"Don't be an idiot," Haymitch muttered under his breath. "Just grab something from the outer circle and run."

Too late. He ran straight towards the Cornucopia, a determined look on his face. He had almost reached the sword when an axe made contact with his neck. His head flew through the air for a moment before his body thudded to the ground, slumping over the sword he had been so determined to take. His killer, a brutish boy from Two, grinned as the decapitated body before kicking it away with his boot and taking the sword in his free hand.

"Oh no," Effie whimpered, raising a hand to her mouth. She felt physically nauseated as she watched the other Tributes kick his head and body out of their way.

"C'mon Bryony," Haymitch growled, pulling her attention to the little girl who was still frozen on her platform. "Get running, sweetheart!"

Effie felt ice run through her and she was stuck solid. Her limbs had turned to lead and the room in front of her seemed a million miles away.

Haymitch didn't notice Effie's rapid breaths next to him; he was totally fixated on the little girl on the screen. A tall girl from District Five was running at her with a spear in her hand, a rucksack on her back. The spear made a mark between Bryony's eyes, and the screen went blank.

So that was that. The Hunger Games over for another year.

Haymitch swore loudly and kicked the table beside him. The glass surface shattered, as did the wooden legs holding it up. Effie didn't even flinch when he flung his scotch at the wall, sending shards of crystal into the air. He didn't flinch as he roared in anger, as he bellowed in pain, as he slammed his fists against the walls and pulled at his hair, clumps coming out all at once.

She saw the spear go into Bryony again and again before her eyes; Avis' head fly through the air. Haymitch only saw her in the corner of his eye as she threw up her breakfast over the cream carpet that was already stained with his drink and spots of blood. He didn't register it for a few hours either.

With nothing left to do for him until the rounds of parties after the Games, Haymitch fell into drink. Day in, day night, he was intoxicated. His night with Effie mingled with the Games, with the deaths of the children, with his hatred for the Capitol, until they all merged into one memory.

Effie was ill for a few days. They had to call out a doctor to her where she stayed in the Training Centre, and the doctor just said she needed bed rest. Apparently the "excitement and strain of her first Games" was overwhelming. Nothing about the reality of seeing two children she had grown to be fond of die. And she couldn't help but think, as she lay rigidly in her cold bed, could she have done more? If she had done more for them, maybe told them about potential sponsors, warned them against going straight to the Cornucopia, something, they would still be alive?

Emptiness. That's all she felt for the next few days. No pain, no guilt. Just an abyss of nothing. A raw absence of everything. She noticed Haymitch's hollers occasionally as he terrorised the Avoxes for drink, registered that she wasn't alone in this. But he didn't come in to see her once. So maybe she was alone in this.

Nothing pulled her out until the third day after the opening morning. There was a knock at the door, and someone walked in. Effie stared at the ceiling, feeling nothing. Someone was in her room, and she really should care that she hadn't got a dress on, or any make-up, or a wig. She had showered, yes, but that was only because an Avox had guided her through the motions. But she didn't. She didn't care who it was, either. Whoever it was wasn't going to convince her that she had played no part in her district's children's deaths. And so she just ignored this intruder.

"I always did prefer you in bed," came a silky voice, penetrating her haze of numbness. Something inside of her stirred at that voice. But it wasn't enough to pull her back into reality.

"You look beautiful, by the way."

Effie felt her throat close up as he yanked her back to the present. The images of Avis' rolling head faded back into the ceiling that she had been gazing towards. In the corner of her eye, she saw something red – a dark-haired man with a crimson suit stood next to her bed, hands clasped behind his back.

Her eyes roamed towards him, and eventually, her head moved. Seneca.

"Seneca," she croaked. Her throat hurt as she used her voice for the first time in a few days. "What are you..?"

"Word has it that you're sick," Seneca said gently, perching on the edge of the bed. "I wanted to come and make sure that you're okay."

Effie felt her body relax. Sure, she and Seneca had not seen each other in months – they had parted on less than friendly terms, after all – but they had been friends long before they had been lovers. Any anger she had with him was all but gone, and right now, she needed a friend.

"I'm fine," she said quietly, looking into his bright blue eyes and he knew in that moment that everything was not okay.

"Effie. It's me. You can tell me anything."

Slowly, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. Her back leant against the headboard and she crossed her legs, holding out a hand towards him. He pulled himself onto the bed next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her tight.

"Now. You want to tell me?" he asked quietly.

Of course she did. She needed someone to talk to. The problem was, the only person she really wanted right now was a man who was blind drunk, passed out next door. The man who was with her now had cheated on her, repeatedly. But aside from that, was he so bad? He had always treated her with respect, never pushed her for anything, and remembered the little things that had made her so happy. But still. He probably did all of those things out of guilt. But that was months ago. And it was still him. This was still Seneca. Her first great love. Her friend. She could trust him. And if she held everything in any longer, she was sure she'd just collapse entirely.

And so, after taking a few steadying breaths, she told him.

She told him how guilty she felt for not doing enough for her tributes, how awful it was seeing the children die after getting to know them, how painful it was to know that she'd never get the chance to apologise to them for not saving them, and how heart-breaking it will be to see District Twelve next year.

He listened without saying a word as she cried into his shoulder, rubbed her back and stroked her hair. He waited until her tears had subsided, just holding her, before he spoke.

"Effie, darling, this isn't your fault," he said gently, putting a finger under her chin and lifting her face so she was looking him in the eye. "This is just the way it has to be. It's for the good of the country, and you are helping your country by being such a crucial part. Don't blame yourself, Effie."

"It just feels so lonely at the moment," she whispered, her voice cracking as a fresh tear fell down her cheek.

"You know you always have me, darling," Seneca said quietly, pulling her closer. His forehead rested against her temple. "No matter what."

Effie was lonely. She was scared. She was angry. She wanted Haymitch so badly it almost hurt. And so when Seneca began kissing her cheek, letting his lips trace across to her mouth, she didn't fight it. She let the tears flow freely as his mouth pressed against hers. It didn't matter that it was Seneca kissing her. All she could see, all she could taste, was Haymitch.

Neither of them heard the door creak open, neither of them saw a man stagger in and stand there for a moment, staring at the couple that was in a tight embrace. They both heard his roar though.

"WHAT IS THIS?" he bellowed, his face reddened and twisted with rage as he saw Effie – his Effie – in the arms of her former lover.

They sprang apart and Effie darted to Haymitch's side. "Haymitch, please, it's not what it looks like!"

"THE HELL IT IS!" he screeched, pushing her away from him furiously. She stumbled backwards and fell onto the bed, her hand outstretched towards him.

"Look here Abernathy-" Seneca started angrily, striding towards him.

Haymitch effectively silenced him with a fist to his face. "You dare come in here," he snarled over Seneca where he was lying on the floor, tenderly touching his nose that was now leaking blood. "You dare treat this woman as you did, casting her aside for your series of whores, and then you come in here and do this? You sicken me."

"Haymitch, please-" Effie started, tears falling freely down her face, her whole body shaking.

"Don't even bother, Effie!" he shouted, throwing his glass against the wall, where it smashed into a thousand shards. "And you!" he added, seeing Seneca get back onto his feet. "You leave NOW!"

Seneca threw Effie an apologetic look before leaving. Effie didn't even see him leave. Her eyes were fixed on Haymitch who was now pacing back and forth in front of her.

"Haymitch-" she began.

"Don't!" he spat, not even looking at her. "Don't even say a word!"

"You have to let me explain!" she cried, standing up and putting herself in his path. His face was contorted with anger, pain, despair.

"Why?" he asked furiously. "What's the point?"

"I only did it because I was lonely!" she cried. "I was scared and lonely and needed someone, and he was there all of a sudden!"

"Lonely?" he shouted angrily. "Lonely? I was here, I AM here! In the very next room!"

"Yes, up to your eyeballs in drink!" she cried, throwing her hands up and walking away from him. "I needed you but all you wanted was to pour liquor down your throat!"

Her hand was on the doorknob when she felt a hand on her waist. She tried to push it away, but another hand skimmed across her body.

"Don't leave," Haymitch said quietly, pressing his body against hers and pulling her tight to him. "Please."

She leant back against him. Her arms reached up behind her, hands weaving into his hair as his lips moved to her neck.

"Wait," she said suddenly, her eyes flying open.

"Yes?" he mumbled against her skin.

"No," she said, pulling away from him. "We can't just act like this didn't just happen."

He sighed, sounding annoyed, and stepped back from her, holding open his arms expectantly. "Go on then. Talk."

"Look, Haymitch, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. I mean, one minute he was here, just listening to me talk, and the next he was kissing me, and then you were here and…"

"Okay. He was kissing you. Why were you kissing him back? Do you still have feelings for him?"

"No," she said quickly. "Not at all. It ended months ago."

"Then why didn't you stop him?" Haymitch asked coldly, an eyebrow raised.

Effie stood uncomfortably for a moment, avoiding his gaze. "Because I just wanted someone."

"Anyone?" he pressed. "Is that all it was the other night? You just wanted 'someone'?"

"No! I wanted you. I still do. And that's what I mean. I didn't want just someone, I wanted you. But you weren't there. When he kissed me, all I saw was you."

"Then Effie, why didn't you just come and find me?" he asked despairingly. "I would be there for you at any time, I thought you'd know that."

"I was scared," she said quietly.

Haymitch felt a pang in his stomach. He frightened her. "Scared of me?"

"Scared you wouldn't want me there."

He walked slowly back towards her where she stood looking very small. Her nightdress was thin and she looked a little cold, the way her arms were wrapped so tightly around herself. Or scared. Or lonely. Or guilty. Or any number of things.

"I will always want you," he said softly, pulling her into his arms. Where she belonged. "You just have to talk to me. I know we're at the start, but I want to be with you for a long time. And we just got to talk to each other."

She nodded against his shirt, smelling the alcohol in it.

"Can I ask you one thing?" Haymitch asked after a moment's pause.

"Of course," Effie murmured, pulling up her head and meeting his gaze.

"Please don't kiss any other men," he said, pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She reached up and kissed his lips quickly. "Okay. And the same goes for you."

Haymitch licked his lips and frowned. He dropped his hold on her and stepped back.

"Haymitch, what's wrong?" she asked, putting her hand against his check. He turned away from her touch and shook his head.

"Haymitch, you're the one who just said that we need to talk to each other," she said to his turned back.

"It's just, you taste different. He's on you. I can sense him on you," he said, shaking his head and looking at the floor.

Effie's stomach dropped. "Just give it a few days," she said in what she hoped was a light tone. "It won't be like that."

"I just don't think I can look at you right now," he said after a moment's pause.

"Haymitch!" Effie protested as he left the room. "Haymitch, please!"

Well, that turned around quickly. One moment he was furious, the next, loving, and the very next he was walking away from her. Was it the alcohol? Was it the fate of the tributes mixed with her chance counter with Seneca, mixed with his fury at the Capitol?

She didn't know. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was what she stood for. Maybe it was him, and everything he had been through. She didn't know. All she knew was that she didn't want to ever have to see him walk away from her again. She knew that she couldn't take it.

She crawled back into bed, letting the emptiness swallow her up again, and remained like that for hours. Sleep evaded her that night. Haymitch's room was quiet for the first time since they had arrived and at around midnight, she hauled herself out of bed. She padded to the bathroom and splashed her face, looking at her reflection for the first time in days. There were dark cricles under her eyes and scratched down her face from where her nails had dug into her skin without her even realising. Hair stuck up at all angles, and her skin had an unhealthy shine to it. She looked a mess.

She turned on the shower and stepped in, letting the warm water and fragrant soaps soak her entirely until every inch of her was washed clean. Her hair was dried straight and glossy by the machine next to the shower and her skin was soft and smooth once more. Back in her room, she pulled on her silk nightdress and matching rode, pulling it tight around her and opened her door slowly. She glanced up and down the corridor, but there was no one around at this time. She darted out of her room and across to Haymitch's door. Slowly she turned the knob and let herself in.

He was leaning against the headboard, his eyes closed and hands holding open a book. The lights were on dimly, casting shadows across his half-naked body. Effie bit her lip at the sight of him lying chest-bare on his large bed. He was all she ever wanted.

She walked slowly around to him and set his book aside, making sure she kept his page number marked. She undid her robe and sat gently next to him.

"Hey," she whispered, trailing her finger along the inside of his arm. His eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of her. She was more beautiful now, in her simple nightclothes with no make-up on, no wig, than he had ever seen anyone.

"Hey yourself," he murmured.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am," he whispered with a slight smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" she asked, suddenly worried that he really didn't want her.

"No, not at all." He shivered as her fingers traced the palm of his hand, as her tongue traced her lips slightly and her face moved closer to his.

He raised his hand to her neck and his fingers wove into her hair, pulling her head down to his. Their lips met in a kiss that Haymitch had no intention of stopping. Her legs swung over him and she was straddling, weaving her hands into his hair, relishing the feeling of his lips against hers, pressing against her cheek, her neck, her chest. His hands were soft on her body, pushing her clothes from her shoulders and his sighs sent butterflies to her stomach.

And so, that night, they made love. They forgot the days that had gone by and the days yet to come. All they could think of, in this moment, was each other. Because right now, nothing else mattered.

WAH sorry if this wasn't as good as my other chapters, my brain sort of just exploded on the page (plus this is the busiest six weeks of my life right now, so just bear with me until it's over). Hopefully the next chapter will be better! Again, thank you all for your support of this fic, it is much appreciated!