#postmockingjay

"Katniss. It's been weeks.You haven't come out of your house. You haven't moved from your bed. This has to stop. I've tried doing this the nice way. Haymitch says you don't need nice though. He says you need a kick in the ass. After seeing you like this for so long I'm inclined to agree with him. If you don't get up I'm going to walk over there and pick you up and-"

I jump down from the bed and run out of the room. I feel my throat close up, and I barely make it to the study before I can crawl under the desk and collapse in a fit of angry tears.

I cry and cry and kick at the chair until it falls over and I bite my lip in an attempt to keep from screaming, long and hard against the disgustingly bright morning. My head feels like it's pulling in two different directions and I feel disoriented and sick.

I hate these moments. I hate Peeta for forcing me to face them. There's nothing but fury and panic in my blood and its like a race inside me to see which of the stronger emotions will win out.

These are the times when my mind shifts back into that place where the Games are alive all around me and more real than the floor beneath me, or the sounds of people's voices as they try to reach me.

Sometimes all it takes is a moment, just one where I was surprised, and frightened and vulnerable. It all started with a change to my routine.

Just one difference in how Sae woke me up once morning, she was humming under her breath when she came in and found me asleep on the couch. She patted my hair gently and when I woke up I expected to find Prim or my mother's face above me. What I got instead was a healthy dose of reality. So instead of facing the fact that neither of the two people I desperately wanted to see in that moment would ever come back to 12, to me, I ran. Up stairs and into my bed and shut myself away from everything and everyone.

I reverted back to a violent, distrusting, dangerous creature. A creation of their Games. Someone not quite sane, or maybe even fully human.

The thought makes me shake in my thin robe. I recall the questions they used to ask me. About my name, where I was from, and what date it was.

Lots of boring tedious things designed to persuade me that the Games are over, that I am safe. But even though my mind can recognize if it's been more than two years, I can never feel really safe.

Because the Hunger Games will never be over. Not for me, and not for anyone I care about that is still left living. And there are very few of those.

My mind cannot wrap itself around the idea that there is something after this, that I will inevitably have to go on. This moment feels like a cavernous mouth opening wide to swallow me whole, and I can't move, I can't speak. I can only try not to scream as it devours me.

Darkness and tears, for I don't know how long, are the only things I can feel.

But then, there are strong arms around me. Familiar arms. Solid and true. And I am in the cave again, seeking refuge from the storm that blows hard and hateful around me, and inside my mind. I clutch him, in the cave, under the desk, in both places and both times at once. Needing the gentleness that lives deep within him to anchor me to this reality.

And he holds me together with his kind hands, until I stop shaking. The boy who the Capitol tried to brainwash and torture until he was ready to kill me on sight, until he was nothing but a twisted mutt instead of the boy with the bread I had come to need so much. They had tried to cut the kindness out of his very skin, until there was nothing left but rage and hatred. But they failed. Because Peeta's goodness lives in his soul, and that was one thing they couldn't touch no matter how hard they tried.

He is oddly enough the only one who makes me feel safe. We stay locked in a gentle embrace, until I am placid in his arms.

I look up at him with tears in my eyes, so ashamed of myself for causing all this trouble. But he looks down at me tenderly, without any trace of resentment. It breaks me, that look. Because it makes me need him even more.

"Hey, there." He says in that forgiving and merciful tone that always seems to cut to the core of my soul.

"Hi." I tell him shakily.

"Ready to come out? Or do you need a few more minutes?" He asks, and I breathe out heavily. No sense in dragging it out anymore than I've already done.

"I'm ready." I tell him and he smiles. It takes a minute, because we're in an awkward position under the desk, and his leg doesn't make it easy for him to maneuver. But we make it to a standing position, and he wraps me in a warm hug and I hold him tight again.

"Sorry for messing up your morning." I told him as I rested my head against his heartbeat.

"Any morning I get to spend with you is a great one." He tells me kindly. And because this moment is so solemn and I know right now we are both totally bared and honest with each other in the face of our shared tragedies, I know he means it, one hundred percent.

It makes me sigh. And I close my eyes just wanting to feel it, this moment. Where the one before this one almost drove me over the edge with terror and dread, and I couldn't rack my brain hard enough to figure out how to force myself to let it pass, this moment in his arms I want the opposite.

I want to stretch it, and spin it around us like a cocoon where we can hide away from everything and everyone that waits for us when we step out of here.

When I open my eyes to look up at him I see his eyes are closed, and he's smiling that almost smile that captures me so easily.

And I think,

I want...

I want...

I want to be done running from it.

Is that the same as a fish wanting to fly? The same as a mountain wanting to blow away in the breeze?

Could I ever really do it?

Emotions, especially when they ran high in me, were often unreliable…

I took a deep breath and resolved to let the feelings settle before I did anything hasty again.

But I did stretch onto my tiptoes and plant a soft, light kiss on his almost smiling lips.

"What was that for?" He asked with an amused grin. His blue eyes sparking in the light of the morning streaming in from the window.

"That was because this time, I needed a kiss, but you're just too gentlemanly to press your advantage." I tell him quietly, and match his smile.

"Oh, well in that case," He says as he wraps his arms around me and kisses me a little longer, but still gently and mostly chastely.

"See? What'd I tell you? Great morning." He says when he breaks away from me and I smile against his lips, so very lighthearted for a second.

Effie should’ve been way madder at him. He needed only think about his recklessness in the woods to start mind-insulting himself all over again.

Did she think he’d been in control that time? Because the answer was a resounding no! That he didn’t get them into trouble on the first try was just a strike of dumb luck, nothing else. Not that he thought he’d be any good at babymaking, even if he tried. After all those years of heavy drinking his swimmers were probably as deadbeat as the rest of him. But either way, their first time would be the last they ever went sky-diving without a parachute. Finding Octavia’s house was easier than he thought. Effie had pointed it out to him and the music could be heard miles away. When he pushed inside it was like walking into a living fruit salad. People wore dresses made out of fake apples and pears and oranges, eatable hats and jewellery, suits with cherry and blueberry patterns and one woman, he was quite certain, had nothing on but a full body paint that made her look like banana porn. Effie was at the bar, surrounded by the prep team. She looked less crazy for a change. Damn fine actually in a white dress patterned with strawberries and green leaves. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it of course. He’d done his very best to keep her from putting it on earlier and get her back into bed. She would’ve looked lovely with her real strawberry blonde hair loose but he didn’t even try to convince her of that since she wouldn’t ditch the head wraps anyway. When he first saw her in one, he thought they were all gray but like her old wigs, Effie had one in every color. Green today. She practically matched Octavia. “…but he’s a morsel, Effie!” Haymitch heard her delighted squeak as he zig-zagged through the crowds to get to them. “You should really hit that! If things weren’t getting very serious with Quirinus…” “Who truly lives up to his name,” Flavius winked. “Right!” Octavia giggled. ”I would absolutely go for it! You should have some fun!” “Moment of truth,” Venia smiled and put her arm around Effie. “Someone keeping you warm?” “You know you can always tell us!” Flavius said, eager for the latest gossip. ”I mean, I can’t even remember you dating anyone since Julian.” ”Oh, Julian! He was a darling!” Octavia gushed with her hand over her chest. ”But very small hands,” Venia said. ”And we all know what small hands mean!” The three of them burst out laughing and Haymitch bet he was the only one to notice the tiredness underneath Effie’s smile. Which was great news for him, if you thought about it. And she would keep their secret, he knew. Effie had a knack for putting up a facade when she had to. Hell, there was a time she even fooled him. Which was why people (a lot more suspicious than Katniss’s prep team) bought into the whole ”severe meningitis” story she spread out to cover the fact she overdosed on sleeping pills. And what about all the other secrets she kept locked up inside her heart? Was there even a single person in this entire city that she confided in?

“Hi!” Effie said in surprise when Haymitch reached them. She smiled. “What a lovely and unexpected surprise.” “Haymitch, your beard!” Flavius shrieked and stared at the mentor’s stubbled cheeks. “When I gave you that shave you weren’t supposed to let it grow back in!” “And you’re not dressed,” said Octavia, disappointment written all over her green face. “The theme was ‘From the fruit bowl.’” Venia patted her friend’s shoulder soothingly. “We mustn’t hold it against him”, she said. “He’s from District 12.” “Haymitch wasn’t originally able to attend,” said Effie, always one to come to his defense. “We should all just be happy that he is here now.” “Oh, we are, Effie. We are,” said Octavia. She smiled at Haymitch as if to prove it. “And, obviously, I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away!” “Octavia’s birthday parties are legendary,” said Flavius. “Oh, yes,” Venia nodded. “If only Annabel had agreed to play the trumpet for us,” Octavia pouted. “You got them out of the house at least,” said Venia. “Just think about how many parties they’ve declined these past few years. It makes me want to cry!” Octavia nodded sadly. Then she took Effie’s hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “Now have a lovely evening, you two. I hope you change your mind about, you know,” she smiled. “Oh, and Haymitch,” she added. “Don’t despair. In a different light I’m sure you wouldn’t look half as repulsive.” With that the three beauticians darted away again and from Haymitch came a deep sigh. It was creepy how virtually unchanged Katniss’s prep team was. But then again, just like with Effie: Who knew what went on behind closed doors? “Don’t listen to her,” Effie said. The music was so loud they could speak without fear of being over-heard. “You’re a lot more handsome than you let on. I should know. I’ve been right up close.” Haymitch raised his eyebrows, like “seriously?” but Effie only smiled and sipped her drink. He gave up. “I came to walk you home”, he said. “It’s been four hours. I’m famished.” “Only 1,45,” Effie chuckled. “Miss me already, Abernathy?” “I miss not being hungry. Can’t turn your damn stove on. And with our luck we should clear out now anyways before the shit hits the fan.” “Oh, it cannot possibly get any worse than our last Capitol party,” said Effie. “Fine,” she added when she saw his look. “Let me just finish my drink and then we can go. And there is food here if you like.” Haymitch went and filled a plate and they found an empty couch in a more secluded corner of the room. “Who’s Annabel?” he asked, remembering Octavia’s words and the postcard on Effie’s mirror. “A dear friend of mine.” Unlike Haymitch who sat slouched back with the plate precariously balanced on his knee, Effie sat upright on the very edge of the sofa, prim and proper as ever. “We were roommates at the Academy. She was a jeweller before the war. “ She smiled at some memory. “I had my first drink with her, I recall. She found a way to smuggle in bottles through our window and she was always my lookout when I was up on the roof.” “What were you doing on the roof?” “Well, I happened to have a few nocturnal randezvous with the chimney-sweep during my final year. His son to be exact. It was his family’s company and after he was done with the school’s chimneys he went right over to mine. Best sex I’ve ever had! …Up until just recently,” she chuckled when she saw the deep crease between Haymitch’s eyebrows.

The bedroom was a mess. The sheets all tangled up, coffee cups and plates with orange peels on the nightstands, discarded clothes everywhere, a wet towel slung over the bed.

She went and seized the half-emptied bottles and there was a part of her that itched to go tell him he should really have cleaned up after himself since he’d been home all day and an even bigger part of her wanted to pour the last of the alcohol down the drain. In the end she decided against both impulses. She placed the bottles by his side of the bed and only hoped he wouldn’t defile all of her apartment quite as quickly as usual.

The light flickered on automatically when she stepped inside the largest closet to hang up her work outfit.

Once upon a time there’d been wigs on display heads in here. She saw herself reflected in all the mirrored wardrobes and as she began to untie the bandana, her mind went back to those disastrous December days when Haymitch first visited.

She’d been so nervous about meeting him again after all those years of silence, especially since she was pretty sure he made the trip because he worried for her, that she’d gone and put on her Capitol armour again.

Of course, she soon realized how silly and unnecessary it was. It was hard not to shake your head at the memory. But she was only human. For some reason she’d felt safer, less exposed behind the Capitol attire.

Noises from the bedroom interrupted her thoughts and she pushed open the door just in time to watch Haymitch grab all the clothes from the bed.

He stopped when he saw her though and Effie couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, his arms full of dirty laundry and the look on his face like she’d caught him doing something naughty.

Haymitch cleared his throat, awkwardly.

“I was just looking for my scotch,” he muttered. With a smile still on her face Effie walked over to him. Clearly she wasn’t the only one who wanted to make a good impression. She took the clothes and tossed them in the armchair so he could put his arms around her instead. With the heels on she didn’t even have to stay on tip-toe to kiss him. He tugged at her jacket so she could shoulder out of it and she chuckled at his unlucky attempts to find a zipper.

“How the fuck does this work?” he muttered and she guided his hands to the hidden buttons so he could open her sheath dress all the way and reveal the pristine white corset underneath.

She was hard as a floorboard. Hell, damn near burglar-proof and while he pulled the dress over her head and went on to fumble with all the tiny little clasps he dimly wondered how she could even remain conscious in that thing. “How long can you stay?” she breathed, more and more deeply as the corset loosened around her.

“Want me out of your hair?”

“Oh, you know that’s… not it.”

Their lips met in an open-mouthed kiss and he disengaged the corset from her and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

Yeah, he knew. And a big part of him was scared shitless for it.

But when she kissed him he was powerless. Completely powerless.

He was so screwed.

xXx

With such a beautiful day you couldn’t stay indoors. At least not according to Effie. So after the pancakes she persuaded Haymitch to take a walk with her.

“You have to see the Roman Stairs,” she smiled and looped her arm around his. With a name like Cupid’s Garden Haymitch suspected the worst but place wasn’t as outrageous as it could have been. Weird trees, maybe. They blushed in all the normal autumn colours like orange, yellow and red but there were also hues like bright blue, silver gray and neon purple. Like a cluster of party balloons or Effie’s old wigs. The Roman Stairs were a slightly curved flight of stairs made from white marble. They had a seat at the top, on either side of a funny stone toad, over-looking a pond. The mockingjays thrived, sharing the spotlight with a gaggle of ducks and two swans. The place felt oddly familiar despite the fact he was pretty sure he would have remembered coming here and then he realized. This was where Effie found him, that time he got tanked up and fell over in the snow. He’d been so drunk he thought he’d trudged back into the Meadow of Twelve. Yeah, that was a funny day. "It's so peaceful around here," Effie said. "And Castor and Pollux had a hand in making this, you know," she smiled and gave the smooth marble a pat. "They're camera men." "I know". She tapped a light finger against the stone toad's head and he saw it had one of them square symbols. Like on the holographic photo she got him for his birthday. "Mind flights," Effie explained. "Pollux still records quite a few of them each year. Documentaries as well, with Cressida. We use them in teaching." “What’cha teach?” Haymitch wondered and it surprised him he’d never actually asked what Effie did those two days a week. If Plutarch ever told him he’d been too drunk to remember. “All manners and how to be good little Effie Trinkets?”

It was meant as a joke but it fell flat and he heard how wrong it sounded. “Ok, not funny,” he said but her smile had faded. “Not funny.” Oh, fuck. Even when he worked his ass off he still fucked up. ”That’s not what I do, Haymitch”, Effie said. “I don’t do that anymore.” She tried to not take it so to heart but she did. The logical part of her knew it wasn’t odd he jumped to that conclusion right away. After all, it was her job during the Games. To teach the tributes how to behave in front of the cameras. But it still hurt that Haymitch thought she did that today, to Gracie and all of her other girls. She remembered her own teacher in etiquettes. Remembered all too well. There was a reason Effie had perfect table manners and could run around in heels full-time. At the Academy, if the book fell off your head when you learned how to walk or if so much as a drop of soup stained the table cloth they wrapped you over the knuckles with a ruler. It shamed her to say she’d fallen back to that old upbringing herself once. When she tried and failed to teach Katniss how to walk and smacked her hand, yelling “Not above the ankles!” Because those methods and worse were so standard practice in the Capitol, among parents and teachers. It had gotten better since after the war. And the new government intended to establish a new, co-ed and less strict school for the Capitol as soon as possible. But until they got that plan off the table they had included mandatory courses for the schools that already existed. Pallas’s Academy where Effie taught and Appollo’s Academy for the boys. Haymitch nudged her knee. “What do you teach then?” he asked. And Effie told him. The districts weren’t the only ones who were told lies. The children of the Capitol and District 2 for that matter they were the “Snow generation”. The youngsters who grew up with the glorified image of President Snow as the father of the nation. Until the rebellion all they even knew was what the regimen chose to tell them. Not just about the Hunger Games. The people of the districts were presented to them as second-rate humans. Good for hard labor but barbaric and nothing like the citizens of the Capitol.

"During my classes we sit down together and talk," Effie said simply. "About compassion and equality, what makes us different and what makes us alike. They write and draw about their feelings and guest speakers come in from all over the country to talk to them about the war, about moral and prejudices and what life is like in the districts. These children were under the Capitol's influence and fed by the propaganda machine every day, we all were and sooner or later those seeds may bear fruit, unless we plant something else. So that's what we try to do."

Effie silenced and looked at him, head high, as if he’d do something like scoff her or her girls but his heart only swelled with pride.

On a normal year Effie came to Twelve for Christmas and New Years but this year she’d slipped on some ice and sprained her ankle so Haymitch had reluctantly agreed to come to her instead. Leave it to Effie Trinket to be able to put together a Christmas dinner from her sickbed with less than three days prep time. And now he was stuck on this train. The weather hadn’t been as bad when they left Twelve but only a few districts later they had a full blown snowstorm on their hands. The news that Haymitch was stuck somewhere between District 5 and 4 sent Effie into a state and she’d spend the next few hours on the phone being a pain in the ass while speaking to different authorities to try and find a way unstuck him. “Knock it off, sweetheart,” Haymitch said the third time she called and wanted to speak to the conductor. “It’s not their fault.” “Well, you will be here on time for Christmas dinner if I’ll so have to send a hovercraft after you!” But even if Effie’d had one there was no way to navigate through this weather. The train was now moving at a snail’s pace and when Effie finally had to accept he wouldn’t be able to get to her tonight she calmed down. “We can celebrate it anyway,” she said. And with Beetee’s excellent video phone it was more fun than Haymitch had ever thought it would be. Even if he couldn’t touch Effie’s leg under the table and stuff like that, which was unfortunate. After dinner Effie took her glass of wine and limped over to the sofa close to the Christmas tree. “This is for you,” she said and picked up an elegantly wrapped box tied up in flurry gold ribbons. And since he couldn’t be there to open it himself she unwrapped it for him.

It was a thick blue gray muffler and something that looked like a wool cap of some sort. “It’s called a beanie, Effie said. “For your ruthless winters.  Now hopefully you won’t get as many colds that you’ll pass over to me.” “Well, you shouldn’t always be so eager, princess.” Effie held up the beanie next to his face. “I was right! It does go well with your skin tone.” She smiled at him and took a sip from her glass. “Now you’ll open mine.” Haymitch had gotten her a basket of different foods from his district. Goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves, blackberry wine, cans of apple sauce. Eatable things were what he usually gave her and Effie wasn’t disappointed. She had a special liking for goose eggs and a kind of ginger-spiced honey that he always made sure to include. Effie had emptied her glass now and was refilling it. “Oh, I do wish you were here, Haymitch”, she said. ”I mean, in the flesh.” The wine had colored her cheeks a warm red like always when she drank. He wondered how she could be so tipsy already. She hadn’t had too much for dinner. And then he realized. Of course. If there was one thing that sent Effie up the wall it was when an outer obstacle was too great for her to conquer. While on the phone (and on an empty stomach) she’d probably had a furious sip in between each call when they failed to get his train any closer to her city. “I had so much planned,” Effie continued. “And it’s this… this…” she waved her hand in the air, searching for the word, “mirror. I had it put up on the ceiling above the bed. We were supposed to try it on Christmas night.”

Haymitch grinned. Nice! But all he said was, “Better have a glass of water, sweetheart. I won’t be able to put you to bed this time.” “Oh, I’m not drunk,” Effie said with a good natured wave of her glass, nearly splashing wine on herself. She drank up and then went to admiring him over the rim. “Oh, you’re so handsome” she said. “We should have a Christmas toast, Haymitch! Yes, a toast! To them sexy legs that you have and your manly, muscled chest and that very fine behind…”  “How’s this a Christmas toast?”  “…and especially those goodies that you are flashing me right now.” Haymitch’s eyes darted down and he shifted his bathrobe, covering them up. “Hey, sweetheart…” Effie giggled, redder than ever in the face. “Oh, Haymitch. I think you’re amazing. I’ve ever told you you’re amazing? I know I can come off critical but Haymitch, you’re my dearest dearest.” “Alright, Eff. Think you’ve had enough wine for one night,” he said. “Go to bed.” Effie pouted. “But you’re not here. No fun going to bed when you’re not here. But then the next moment she slumped down on the couch, tugging at a blanket until it covered her. “Soft couch,” she mumbled and burrowed her face into one of the velvet cushions. Her eyes were closed and he listened to her deep, slow breathes. Then just when he thought she was out, Effie mumbled, “I don’t wanna wait no more. Why d’ya never ask me?” “’Bout what, sweetheart?” “Come live with you.” Her eyes were still closed but she kept mumbling. ”I always wait for you to ask me but you never ask me.”

He didn’t answer that. Of course she knew what it was all about. Haymitch hated hospitals. And how could he not? They only reminded him of his time there after his Games and when he was forced to dry out while locked away in Thirteen. “No need,” he muttered, his face white as a sheet. “Feelin’ much better actually. “Doesn’t hurt as much as before.” “Mm, that’s very convincing,” said Effie. “Then you won’t mind me giving you a hand-up…” “Back off,” Haymitch said when she took a step closer. “Haymitch. You dislocated your shoulder when you fell!” “All your fault then.” Effie sat down on a stool next to him. “It was just meant to be a surprise,” she said. ”And if those Christmas lights were such a thorn in your flesh why didn’t you just tell me? Then I would have been there holding the ladder in place for you.” “You don’t go sneaking up anything else, Eff. I mean it. It’s just a waste of time and money.” “I haven’t and I won’t”, Effie sighed. “No more Christmas decorations of any kind. Now will you please just come with me to the doctor? The longer you lie here the more it will hurt and if you wait with treatment you’ll just risk permanent damage.” Haymitch didn’t respond; just stared sulkily up at the ceiling. Effie pulled herself off the stool and sat down next to him on the floor. Haymitch’s eyebrows crease together at this very un-Effie like behavior. Floor wasn’t exactly clean. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Let’s make a deal. You will let me take you to the hospital and then afterwards we get back, when we are all alone, we’ll open a bottle of wine and… I will do that thing that you like.” “What?” Haymitch frowned. Effie smiled and leaned in, whispering it in his ear. “Really?” “Mm-mhm. We can do it all night, if we want.” Haymitch slumped his head back against the floor. He gave a deep sigh. “Fine.” xXx “Well, Mr. Abernathy. Since there aren’t any fractures I’m going to use a procedure known as ‘reduction,’ meaning your arm will be gently manipulated back into its shoulder socket.” Haymitch sat grim and sour and shirtless on the hospital bed. Effie stood by his side, holding the improvised sling that she’d made for the journey here. His shoulder looked absolutely gruesome. All swelled up and covered in bruises and it jotted out in an angle that was all wrong. “It might take a few minutes”, the man in the white coat continued. “I’m afraid it is rather painful but we have effective pain-killers.” “No pills,” Haymitch muttered. With all that booze still running through his veins it would be a very bad idea. “Just pop the damn thing back in place.” “Of course.” “Do you need a hand to hold?” Effie suggested. “It’s alright,” Haymitch muttered but felt a lot less confident than he sounded. Fuck, this won’t be a picnic. “Let’s just get this over and done with.” And the doctor took his arm from where Haymitch had kept it cradled close to his body and then, slowly and gently, he began to rotate it around the shoulder joint. “Aagh!” Haymitch threw his head back. “Gaaawd!” He grabbed Effie’s hand, almost crushing it in his while every swearword known to man came pouring over his lips. The pain stabbed his shoulder like a thousand darning-needles and radiated all the way down his side up to the point he thought he’d pass out.  He didn’t know how long it lasted. It felt like three or four years. But then, just like that, his shoulder went back into its socket. Haymitch released the breathe he’d been holding, feeling how the pain faded to just a dull throbbing. “Fuck, that’s better”, he panted and he was so relieved he didn’t even realize he was still holding Effie’s hand. Something they never used to do in public. “Now, we ought to do another X-ray,” the doctor said. “To make sure it’s...”  “No way,” Haymitch shook his head. His face was dripping with perspiration. “Thanks. But it’s fine. Pain’s almost gone,” he said and this time it wasn’t a lie. The doctor helped him into a proper sling, keeping his arm in place and told him to at least rest a moment before they went home. Effie had a seat next to his bed once they were alone again. “I never meant to make your Christmas worse,” she said and lent him her handkerchief. “It’s not you,” Haymitch mumbled, wiping the tears and sweat from his face. “Really, Eff. Christmas lights weren’t that bad it’s just… we never really celebrated Christmas here. For most people it was just another day when you starved. Seeing those few with means put up their Christmas decorations and all the extravaganza we were forced to watch on television it was like a mock to the rest of the district who would go to bed just as cold and hungry that night as every other night. And… old habits die hard, you know. It’s not that I don’t want you to have a Christmas.” Effie reached out her hand and caressed the back of her fingers softly against his hot, damp cheek; a gesture he couldn’t help but like when it was Effie who did it. “I don’t need any of that,” she said. “I don’t need a tree or a mistletoe or Christmas lights. I just want to be with you. You and Katniss and Peeta. That’s everything I could ever ask for.” xXx