A/N - (I do not own The Hunger Games or the characters in any ways; all rights are reserved to Suzanne Collins)

The Summer After

Haymitch paced outside the private hospital room door. He could hear the cries of pain emitting from Effie now and then and it made him wince every time, even though it had already been around four hours. The nurses had told him to wait outside, and although he opposed the idea and tried to follow Effie in, he was denied access by the senior doctor, who unlike the nurses, threatened to throw him out if he didn't abide by the rules or instructions.

Growing tired of pacing and realising it would get him nowhere, Haymitch sat down next to the closed door on the beige coloured chair. His hands found the armrests and every time Effie cried out, Haymitch gripped the armrests in response, almost as if he could feel Effie's pain.

Not long now, darling, he thought, his mind frantic. Not long at all.

He kept repeating that sentence in his head, believing that if he kept repeating it over and over, Effie would be able to hear him, but of course, that was a stupid idea. The clock on the wall opposite him continued its annoying chatter as it tick-tocked past one 1:27am. He watched the seconds hand intently, wishing it to go quicker, but as one hour became two, exhaustion overcame him and he began to drift into a troubled sleep.

"Mr. Abernathy?" There was no response and so the nurse repeated herself louder this time, shaking his arm lightly. "Mr. Abernathy."

Haymitch woke with a start, looking to pull out the knife he always used to have kept in the back of his belt, but he realised suddenly, that ever since Effie and he had become partners, that he didn't carry it around anymore. Effie had encouraged him to stop, assured him no-one would hurt him, and with his support, he stopped.

He wished he could give his support to Effie now, who from the sound of it, was still in labour.

"What do you want?" Haymitch asked, his voice gruff and still unimpressed from the way he had been treated earlier.

"Your wife wants you," the nurse replied, her eyes as unwelcome as his.

"I'm allowed in?" The question was tinted with sarcasm and the nurse sighed, unimpressed with his attitude towards her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave Haymitch a quick smile, remembering that how rude the patient may be, she must always act politely and civilly. "Yes you are, but I'm going to ask you to put these on first." She held out blue coloured scrubs and Haymitch guffawed.

"What do I need them for?"

"For sterility and cleanliness, Mr. Abernathy," replied the nurse, her eyes as tired as his and her hair slightly dishevelled. "We don't want to risk infection now, do we?"

Haymitch couldn't quite make out if she was indirectly offending him, or really being serious. So with a sigh, Haymitch snatched the ridiculous scrubs out of her hand and hastily place the top over his head and pulled the bottoms over his grey trousers.

He knew he looked ridiculous, but Effie was far more important than looking good, though he momentarily paused, Effie's fascination with looking good wherever she went making him chuckle slightly. She's probably looking a million dollars still, Haymitch thought, a smile turning his lips up.

"Mr. Abernathy?" The nurse's voice reminded him what he was doing and he allowed her to follow into the room which he was barred from entering earlier.

Effie was propped up against pillows, her hair a mess and tangled in sweat on her forehead. Her hands were in fists upon the white covers of her hospital bed as she clutched to them to control each wave of pain. Her eyes were scrunched tightly closed and it hurt him he couldn't ease the pain she felt. Fine layers of sweat shone briefly under the bright, white hospital lights.

"Effie," Haymitch whispered, his voice shaky through being overcome by emotion. He took tentative steps towards her, his breathing heavy.

Effie, suddenly comforted by the familiar voice smiled slightly, opening her eyes to see Haymitch making his way towards her. "Haymitch," she breathed, although another contraction caught her short and she caught her breath suddenly, her hand searching for Haymitch's. Taking her hand in his, Haymitch held it tightly – almost as if he was trying to convey all the love he held for her in that one simple gesture.

She squeezed his hand extremely tightly although Haymitch didn't mind. He'd suffered much worse pain than that of a woman in labour.

"Can't you give her something?" Haymitch asked, now irate. "Some pain relief or something?"

The doctor looked over to Haymitch from the opposite side of Effie, his glasses half way down his nose and his black hair neatly combed back. "It's better, Mr. Abernathy, to relent giving your wife pain relief until it's absolutely necessary." He paused, flicking his report over, his eyes flying over it before he continued, "It also causes less complications."

"And if she needs it?"

The doctor sighed, closing his eyes in frustration. The man didn't know anything, and like husbands before him, the doctor had to remind Haymitch he knew what he was doing. "In that case pain relief will be given, but if she asks for it too late, then it can't be administrated."

Effie's hand relaxed around Haymitch's and she breathed out slowly through her mouth. "I'm okay," she stated, her voice hoarse. Haymitch cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced, which made a smile appear of Effie's worn face. "Really, Haymitch, I can do this."

Haymitch brushed a tendril of hair out of her face, kissing her forehead lightly. "I believe you."

It was another three hours before any progress had been made, and through every contraction, Haymitch was made sure to feel the pain. He stood corrected, he'd never felt as much pain as he did now from just the squeezing of his hand. He highly doubted that after today he would be able to use his right left hand ever again.

"Okay, Mrs. Abernathy," the doctor said gently while pulling two white latex medical gloves. "When the next contraction arises I need you to push for me, okay?" His question was dripping with authority but had subtle undertones of understanding. "I know you're tired and you're doing so well, but I need you to push, really push."

Effie was tired, there was no denying. Her head was rested back against the pillows and her breathing came in short puffs as she tried to organise herself. "I don't think I can do this, Haymitch."

Haymitch's heart broke for her. "Of course you can, darling," he responded, his spare hand stroking her cheek. "You can do anything" – he paused before continuing – "You've been through much worse." His words were about last summer when Effie had been tortured and beaten by the Capitol forces that kept her captive, and he truly believed that if she survived that so strongly, she could do this.

Effie's head popped up suddenly and her hand, again, tightly curled around Haymitch's as she moaned, her spine curling forwards so she was now leaning forwards, her other hand fisting the sheets under her. "That's is, darling," Haymitch whispered.

"Push for me, Effie," the doctor reminded.

The nurses held Effie's legs for her as Haymitch urged her on. He could tell she was going through the most painful part of her birthing experience. Her mouth twisted in vain not to scream.

"Ten seconds, Effie, push for ten seconds for me, okay." Effie nodded under the strain her body was put through and Haymitch found he was holding his breath for her.

Exhausted, Effie leaned back against the mountain of white pillows, her breathing coming in harsh intervals now. "Come on, darling, you're doing so well," Haymitch murmured as he kissed her temple. "Not long now and you'll be able to hold our child."

The thought spurred Effie on somewhat and so when the next contraction came to pass, she found renewed strength, pushing as hard as she could until she felt the head crowning, finally.

"That's it, Effie," Haymitch exclaimed, his feelings alien to him. "Keep going."

And Effie was trying so hard but it hurt so much and she felt as if she was going to pass out through the pressure being put on her. "I can see the head, Effie," one of the nurses called out, a smile on her lips. "You're nearly there."

Leaning forwards again, Haymitch rubbed Effie's back as she shouted out suddenly. "It's okay darling, you're doing swell," came Haymitch's response.

With one final push, Effie relaxed back as she felt new life slip between her legs and into the midwife's awaiting hands. A cry sounded out throughout the room and Haymitch found the tears were automatic. "Effie," he whispered, "you did it!"

Effie smiled, but her eyes were still closed as she tried to control her frantic breathing. "I know," she answered, her voice a little weak, but shaky as she realised that her baby awaited her.

"Mr. Abernathy, would you like to cut the umbilical cord?" Haymitch looked up from Effie's tired face, tears streaming down his cheek. He nodded at the midwife, unable to respond with words.

It was the proudest moment of his life as Haymitch cut the umbilical cord. With the baby now free, it was immediately wrapped in soft, warm blankets, a cotton hat put over its head and passed to Effie who had pushed herself up, her arms ready to receive the bundle she had spent nearly eight hours in waiting to meet.

"It's a girl," one of the nurses said before leaving to give Effie and Haymitch some privacy.

And she was beautiful. Her eyes mouth was open in a perfect 'o' shape as she yawned revealing her pink gums. Her hair, Haymitch saw before the hat was placed over her small head was blonde like Effie's, but her eyes, their daughter had Haymitch's eyes.

"I can't believe she's ours," Effie whispered, her voice a welcome factor through his utter loss of words.

Clearing his throat, he agreed, "She's beautiful, Effie, and guess what?"

Effie's eyes wandered from her baby's face to find Haymitch's grey Seam eyes. "What?" she asked, a soft smile on her rose-bud coloured lips.

"She's all ours," Haymitch breathed proudly.

Admiring her once more, Effie continued. "She has your eyes."

Haymitch stroked the babe's cheek with a finger, frightened to break the small bundle in his wife's arms. "I was wishing she'd have your eyes," he admitted.

Effie shook her head. "No," she countered, "I believe your eyes are beautiful, Haymitch, I'm glad she's inherited them."

"Truthfully?" Haymitch pondered, his eyes taking in every feature of his daughter's face.

"Truthfully," Effie reinforced.

Effie took a moment to breast feed the new addition to the family. Haymitch could see she was nervous – she always was with new things, but it turned out that Effie was a natural at it. She was through everything, meant to be a mother.

"What should we call her?" Haymitch's voice was growing sleepy, but he battled to stay awake.

Effie, more so tired than her husband replied, softly, "how about Maysilee?"

Suddenly choked up, Haymitch found his voice again, albeit difficultly. "Maysilee," he agreed, his voice cracking. "I like it, I like it a lot."

"I knew you would," Effie whispered, her eyelids drooping closed.

And without noise, Haymitch kissed his wife's forehead softly, taking the sleeping baby into his arms and placing her in the crib next to the bed.

"Goodnight, Maysilee," Haymitch spoke softly, "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Taking his place next to Effie once more, Haymitch joined his family in a peaceful slumber where he finally felt happy once more.

A/N – Can I just repeat how much I love this ship? Oh, Suzanne, how I wish you'd made these characters a couple! There are so many possible stories for the two of them.

If you enjoyed this, Please Review!

Thanks, Katie1995. :)