Hello, hello!

This is me again with a brand new hayffie story! This story takes place around two years post war and it will deal with an accidental pregnancy. I had a lot of messages asking me about hayffie and kids over the last couple of years and it made me think because I am on the opinion that in a strict canon interpretation, they wouldn't have children. So it made me think about what could happen if they accidentally found out they were expecting one given their frame of mind after the war and how interesting it would be if Effie's trauma played a bigger role when Haymitch's own demons have finally started being laid to rest.

A few controversial topics will be discussed in this story going from miscarriages to abortion, stuff you can expect to see discussed when a pregnancy is involved. Just to clarify because the problem arose in "Must Be Something In The Water", characters have their own opinions that don't necessarily match mine. I try to keep everyone in character and somehow realistic, that's all.

There will be some angst, some fluff and a Samoyed puppy (that cat has been out of the bag for a while I fear haha). I wouldn't say it's all rainbows and butterflies but it's not all gloom and rain either. I hope you choose to follow me on this new adventure and that you enjoy the ride!

As far as chapters and updates go, I haven't finished the story yet but I'm around 30 chapters right now so it will probably be a long one. I expect around 40 in all. For now it will be published on Sundays but it might be moved to Fridays when Invictus is finished.

The beautiful cover was made by the amazing Holycheekbones who was my cheerleader for this story!

I think that covers it… Well… I hope you enjoy this first chapter! Let me know your thoughts!

April Showers

1. Prologue

Almost two years after the end of the war, Haymitch still hated being shaken awake.

He jerked in a sitting position, his hand immediately searching for a knife that wasn't there anymore – not now that he was permanently sharing his bed – his eyes scanning the room for enemies. The soft glow of the nightstand lamp was casting half of the bedroom in shadows but the furniture's outlines were familiar enough that he blinked and took a deep breath. The smell immediately assaulted him but it must have been a remnant from his night terrors.

"Haymitch." Effie whispered, a bit frightened. "Haymitch, are you awake?"

"Yeah." he sighed, rubbing his face. "Did you have a nightmare?"

It wasn't unusual for her to wake him up because of something like that.

When she had first showed up ten months earlier, almost a year to the T after he had first brought Katniss back, it had been with suitcases, debts and so many triggers he had spent the first few days walking on eggshells around her. Haymitch had been shocked the first time she had started screaming her head off in the middle of the night. After a week, it had become the norm. She had eventually migrated from the guest room to his bedroom – there was no point in her sleeping in another room if he had to cross the corridor to climb into bed with her to calm her down or if she had to sneak in his bed for the same reason. Sleeping together helped, as stupid as it sounded. His own night terrors had abated slightly. Hers, though, were still recurrent.

"Something's wrong." she said, her voice cracking with fear. "Haymitch…"

He frowned and finally took his hands off from his face to look at her, thinking she might still have been in the midst of her nightmare. It wasn't uncommon for her to wake up disoriented or not to be able to tell dreams and reality apart anymore. It was odd she hadn't yet latched herself at him though. She always clung to him if he was nearby when she was having a nightmare or a panic attack.

The smell, he realized a second too late, the smell was still there.

"Fuck." he spat when he spotted the blood stains on her hands. He reached out but she recoiled with a wince.

"Don't…" she pleaded. "Don't touch me."

"Are you hurt?" he asked, kicking the covers off them. "What did you do? How in hell did you…" He shut up abruptly when he saw where the blood was coming from. It wasn't a cut on her palm like he had first thought. There were blood stains on her nightgown, near the apex of her thighs, and on the sheets. Enough that it made his stomach churn but not enough that he truly panicked yet. Given where the bleeding seemed to be coming from… "Okay." he said stupidly, trying to take it in stride. Blood was one of her triggers. Last time Peeta had dropped a plate and cut himself, she had barely stayed together long enough to leave the room only to lose it in the privacy of the bathroom – keeping her insecurities, flashbacks and adjustment troubles from the kids was her prime concern. "Okay, sweetheart, it's just…"

"Something's wrong." she repeated, her voice breaking in a sob. There were tears in her eyes she was making an obvious effort not to shed and her lips were wobbling.

"It's just your period." he winced awkwardly. "It's not…"

"No." she countered and she sounded sure enough that he didn't insist. She pressed her blood stained hands against her stomach, her face contorted in pain. "It's different. I… Something's wrong."

The panic that he had pushed down with rational arguments came back with a vengeance. She seemed certain, there was a lot of blood and, to the best of his knowledge, she hadn't had her period since she had been tortured in prison so it was odd that it would come back now of all time.

"We need to get you to the hospital." he declared, because it was the logical thing to suggest.

He should have known better.

She had spent too much time locked up in a hospital room after her rescue. She avoided doctors like the plague nowadays.

She immediately shook her head, curling up on her side and letting the tears flow. "No! No, I don't want to go back! Please, Haymitch… Please."

He passed a hand over his face, trying to keep his wits about him. Blood wasn't just a trigger for her, after all.

"I will tell them to send a doctor." he compromised. "I… We need to do something, alright? If you're sure it's not your… You need to see a doctor."

It was probably best for them to send someone anyway. Haymitch didn't have a car and the brand new hospital – well, they called it a hospital but it was more a clinic, really, the cases that required more technology were always transferred to Thirteen – was at the other end of the District. She looked in pain and she would never be able to walk all the way there.

He didn't give her time to protest. He bolted out of bed and dashed down the stairs, almost tripping on the hems of his sweatpants because they were too loose on his hips. It was a short phone call, they promised to dispatch someone at once so he hurried back upstairs.

Effie was where he had left her, curled up on her side, crying softly, hugging her stomach. He crawled back next to her on the bed and brushed her hair away from her face, at a loss for what to do.

"What can I do?" he asked.

She didn't answer. She was locked in a world of her own, a world of nightmares he couldn't breach. He stayed with her for a couple of minutes and then decided she would have a fit if she snapped out of it to find out a stranger had seen her in that state, doctor or not. He grabbed a couple of towels from the bathroom and tried to clean her up a little, holding his breath all the while because the smell of blood was difficult for him. The sight of it on her thighs was already almost too much.

He didn't think the bleeding was as extensive as he had feared but he was still entirely out of his depth. He tried not to find it awkward because he was a grown man and she was his… whatever. And she was in pain.

"Haymitch…" Effie breathed out after a few minutes. "Haymitch, I'm scared…"

He sat with his back to the headboard and petted her hair, letting her use his thigh as a cushion for her head. She clung to his leg, sometimes letting out a pained whimper.

"It's alright, sweetheart." he kept repeating. "It's gonna be alright."

He had never been so relieved to hear a car engine in his life. He had all the pain in the world to convince her to let him go meet the doctor.

The man was in his mid-fifty. He had graying hair, brown eyes, dark squared glasses, and an air of no-nonsense about him that made Haymitch feel slightly better. He regretted that Katniss' mother had chosen to never come back because he trusted the healer and he didn't trust strangers. He had heard good things about the man though. The doctor had moved to Twelve from District Six a little over a year earlier and had taken over the management of the clinic. People seemed to like him well enough.

"Clanius Larcher." the man introduced himself, outstretching a hand for Haymitch to shake. He was all business and the victor might not have admitted it but his attitude was somehow reassuring. "Where's my patient?"

Haymitch led him upstairs, explaining what had happened to the best of his abilities. The doctor nodded but didn't offer any possible explanations of his own. He stepped in the bedroom and immediately went to sit on the bed next to Effie.

"Mrs Abernathy…" he started.

"She's not…" Haymitch started only to stop. "We're not married."

No introductions as to who she was were necessary though. Everyone in the District knew who was living in his house, everyone in Panem knew where the last living escort had disappeared to. It had made quite a scandal.

"Miss Trinket." the doctor amended. "I need to take a look. Is that alright with you?"

Effie, he could tell, wasn't completely aware of what was going on. He shuffled on his feet, unsure if he should leave or stay.

"Haymitch…" she begged and it settled the debate. He sat on her other side and grabbed her hand.

"It's alright, sweetheart." he whispered, trying to comfort her. "I'm right here."

"Where am I?" she sobbed. "Here or there? I can't tell… I…"

Larcher frowned and looked at him, looking for an explanation.

"She's having flashbacks." Haymitch said reluctantly. They weren't in a habit of sharing their demons with just anyone. "The blood… It's a trigger. And she's in pain… That's… That's not helping. "

And it wasn't helping him staying calm either. His hands were shaking and he glanced around, not surprised not to spot any bottle. Effie had a rule about alcohol in the bedroom.

"Can you calm her down?" the doctor requested, taking out disposable gloves from his bag and slipping them on.

It took five minutes before he managed to reach her and convince her she was in Twelve with him and not in a cell being torn to pieces.

"Miss Trinket, where does it hurt?" Larcher asked. "Can you tell me?" She waved in the vague direction of her lower belly, breathing deeply through the pain when the man asked her to describe it for him. The doctor kept a professional face but Haymitch saw the glint of worry all the same. "Alright." the man said. "I really need to take a look now."

She rolled on her back and Haymitch hesitated. "Do you want me to…"

"Stay." she begged, grabbing his wrist and holding on tight.

"Okay." he agreed immediately. "Okay, sweetheart."

He tried not to look, to give her some privacy. Larcher was good at schooling his features but Haymitch could read the worry there, he was too familiar with the feeling.

"Can you tell me when your last period was?" the doctor asked.

She shook her head and touched her face, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"More than two years." she hesitated. "I am not sure. Before the Quell."

Haymitch ran his fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her, to keep her grounded. He remained silent and did his best to hide the tremors in his hands but he was terrified. He had grown used to her living with him, he had grown used to kisses in the mornings and at nights, he had grown used to them, to the world and the life they had created for themselves. It might not have been a typical one but it was theirs and it worked and, as far as he was concerned, it was perfect. He would never go back to before, could never go back. He couldn't lose her.

Larcher frowned, gently nudging her legs closed. She immediately curled up on her side again.

"You will find me very rude to ask this to a lady like yourself…" the doctor joked, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "But how old are you?"

He took off the blood stained gloves and placed them in a small container in his bag, obviously to be thrown away later.

"Thirty-seven." she mumbled.

"Thirty-seven is a bit young for menopause." the man observed.

"It wasn't…" Haymitch cut in and then sighed. "Her body is damaged." He licked his lips nervously, searching Effie's eyes for consent. She simply nodded, burrowing against his side, apparently not caring that they had an audience - that was how he knew she was really hurting, and if that guy could help… "She was captured by the Capitol and tortured for information." he explained. The fact that she had been tortured wasn't public knowledge. People had been puzzled at her being pardoned after the war. The official reason was that she had helped the Mockingjay, the unofficial one was that Haymitch had bargained hard with Coin to secure her immunity. "The doctors said… Well, they said her body was too damaged."

"I see." Larcher nodded, keeping a blank face. "I will need to access her medical file, which means we need to take her to the clinic. The bleeding has stopped for now but I would like to run some tests and keep her under watch for a couple of hours."

"But what is it?" Haymitch frowned. "You have an idea, right? Is she going to be alright or…"

He didn't miss the look Effie and the doctor exchanged. It was brief but Effie turned her head away.

"I can't say for sure until we have the tests results." Larcher said.

"I don't want to go to the hospital." Effie protested. "I just… I can't…"

"You do what you have to do to be okay." Haymitch growled, before glaring at the doctor. "You have an idea. What is it?"

The doctor pursed his lips, tapping his fingers on his bag. "Could you be pregnant, Miss Trinket?"

"No." Haymitch answered at once. "I told you. Her body…"

"Are you sexually active?" Larcher interrupted.

Haymitch flushed red, opening and closing his mouth.

"It is possible." Effie whispered, shocking him into silence. "You think I had a miscarriage. It felt like a miscarriage."

He may or may not have let out a strangled noise that sounded like a whine. "What are you talking about? You can't have a miscarriage, you're not pregnant."

He was ignored both by Effie and by the doctor.

"I don't think it was a miscarriage, I don't see a mass or any clotting." Larcher replied in a soothing voice. "I think a pregnancy is a possible explanation. We need to run some tests and I need you at the clinic to monitor you for a few hours." She shook her head but the doctor grew sterner. "Be sensible, Miss Trinket. If you are not pregnant then we need to determine what is happening with your body. It is perfectly possible you are resuming a normal menstruation schedule. I need to study your medical history. And I can only do that at the hospital so… "

"But she's not pregnant." Haymitch insisted, completely stunned.

Larcher turned an understanding but slightly amused gaze in his direction. "Mr Abernathy, it would help a lot if I didn't have to deal with two patients tonight so, please, do take a breath before you faint and help Miss Trinket into something warmer. We will take my car. How's the pain now?"

"Bearable." she answered. "The cramps have stopped."

"Good. That's good." Larcher nodded.

"But you can't be pregnant." he said again, as soon as the doctor had left the room.

"I don't know." Effie sighed, slipping her stained nightgown over her head. "It felt like a miscarriage."

"How would you know how that feels like?" he snapped.

There was a vacant look in her eyes when she met his gaze. "I am so tired, Haymitch…"

He shut his mouth and helped her get dressed. He had to support her down the stairs and into the car. The trip to the clinic wasn't that long but it felt like an eternity to him.

It was only the beginning.

Once they got to the small hospital, Effie was ushered away by nurses and it was almost twenty minutes before he was allowed to her side. She was awake, hooked to a drip, and looked more lucid, even though she reached for his hand as soon as she saw him. They had both come to hate hospitals with a passion after the war. He had spent too long waiting for her and Katniss to wake up.

"You should have gotten dressed, Haymitch." she commented, clicking her tongue.

It occurred to him he was still in his pajamas: a pair of loose sweatpants and a long-sleeved undershirt. He had even forgotten to put shoes on. There had been room for only one thing in his mind and it had been her.

"Whatever happens, whatever's wrong with you…" he said quietly. "I forbid you to die, sweetheart. I'm the one who dies first, okay?" From liver failure, no doubt. "So you can play the grief-stricken widow. Perfect role for you. I won't be so good at it."

"Don't say things like that." she hissed.

They stayed silent for a while, gripping each other's hand and staring at the wall. Waiting. Haymitch hated waiting.

"I have been feeling nauseous in the morning for a week or so." she confessed. "It passed after I had breakfast so I dismissed it."

"You're not pregnant." he countered.

That was absolutely too terrifying to be conceived, even more so than waking up to sheets stained with her blood.

"Even if I was… I probably just lost it." she shrugged, turning her head away from him.

"He said it wasn't that." he scowled. "It's not that. You're not pregnant anyway. Maybe it's just your… thing."

"Period." she corrected with a sigh. "Really, Haymitch, you are a grown man…"

"Yeah, and grown men want nothing to do with a woman's period." he retorted.

The bickering brought them back on familiar ground and they kept it up, grateful for the distraction, until Doctor Larcher approached them, a clipboard in his hands and a nurse hot on his heels.

"So?" Haymitch challenged when the man remained silent for a second too long.

Brown eyes darted from the woman lying on the bed to the victor sitting at her side, finally stopping on their entwined fingers.

"Congratulations." Larcher said – and Haymitch desperately wished he could have blocked out the rest but he heard anyway. "You're expecting a child."

Tadaaaaa! Did you like it? I know this trope has been done to death but I hope I can bring my own version of it... I hope you don't hate it! What did you think so far? I want to hear everything! Let me know!