9. Sixteen Weeks
He struggled against the hands that were holding him down, eyes wide open but unseeing.
It took a while for him to realize the ghosts and demons he had been battling with were gone. He focused on Peeta's face and stopped trying to push the boy away. Haymitch was panting hard. The boy's lips were moving but it was like being underwater, he couldn't really hear. He tried to match the kid's breathing.
He felt weak. So, so fucking, weak. His limbs were made of jelly, his head was pounding with a massive headache and his throat was parched. He clumsily reached for the glass he always kept on the bedside table and came up empty.
He wasn't in his bedroom. He was in the bathroom, in the bathtub to be exact. He wasn't sure how he had ended up there.
The room was familiar though, despite Effie's numerous bottles of shampoos and other stuff being scattered everywhere. Some of them had burst open and were pooling on the tiles. It was a mess. A real mess. The mirror over the sink was shattered. The sight was enough to wake up the pain in his hand and he looked down to find it already bandaged, white gauze wrapped tightly around his knuckles.
"Are you lucid?" Peeta asked.
"Thought we were going to tie me up?" he asked through his fuzzed mouth. That had been the plan. He distinctly remembered discussing it at length with the kids before the worst part had started.
"You got free." Katniss informed him from the threshold, where she was watching with open worry. "The delirium got bad. You had a fever."
That, he remembered. Vaguely.
"How long?" he mumbled.
"A few days." Peeta sighed. "I told Effie you have the flu and I convinced her she shouldn't come back because it would be bad if she got sick right now."
"Good boy." He patted the kid's arm, wincing when his injured hand started throbbing.
"Yeah, wait for it." Katniss snorted.
"You were extremely foolish, Haymitch." another voice stated and Haymitch startled, immediately trying to scramble away from the potential threat. Peeta's hand on his shoulder pinned him in place though – he was too weak to fight it and there wasn't much space to go around in the bathtub to begin with anyway.
It took him some blinking and almost a whole minute for his tired brain to recognize the man standing a few feet away. "Larcher?" His whole body immediately tensed. "Effie. Is she…"
"Effie is fine." Katniss cut in. "Still in Four. We just told you."
He rubbed his face, confused. "Then why…"
"Because Peeta thought it clever to bring a stranger in." she hissed, tossing a pissed-off look at her boyfriend.
"And he was right to do so." Larcher snapped, edging closer to the bathtub and crouching next to the edge. "Now, Haymitch, it's time for your medicine. Please try not to bite me again."
"Medicine?" he repeated, absolutely confused.
"You weren't doing well with the cold turkey approach." Peeta shrugged, worry openly slipping on his features. "I thought… I thought you were going to have a heart attack, Haymitch. It was bad. I called for help."
Larcher pulled his eyelids up and flashed a light in his eyes, making him grunt in pain – not that it stopped the doctor. He poked and probed and then handed him two white pills. Peeta hurried in filling the glass they kept on the sink to rinse their mouths with water and brought it over.
"What's that for?" he frowned.
"That is to make the transition into sobriety easier. And that is what I would have prescribed if you had come to me in the first place." the doctor scolded him. "Going cold turkey without any medical help is an archaic and dangerous method."
He studied the man, then the kid, and swallowed his instinctive mistrust as well as the pills. His head was killing him and if it could help with that, he didn't even care it might be poisoned.
"That's how they did it in Thirteen." Katniss commented. "And it worked."
"It was hell." Haymitch muttered.
"I can imagine." Larcher sighed, looking stern. "Alcoholism is an illness. There is nothing to be ashamed of." Haymitch scoffed but the doctor refused to hear it. "You will take your medicine and we will schedule regular appointments and I am confident everything will be fine. This is a good thing, Haymitch. You are having a baby and you will do so sober. This is a very brave, very good thing you're doing."
His cheeks flushed red and he awkwardly shuffled in the bathtub, very sure he didn't deserve that kind of praises. He tried to get out of the tub but with his injured hand and his dizziness, it was complicated. He was vaguely aware of the doctor saying he would come back later that night or of Katniss offering to walk him back to the door.
It was only when he and Peeta were left alone that he understood the girl was actually trying to be considerate.
The boy cleared his throat. "Let's get you clean up."
He realized his sweatpants and his tee-shirt were covered with suspicious stains in various places. He decided not to ask.
"Can do it myself." he grumbled.
Except he couldn't. It wasn't the first time Peeta had been forced to help him in the bathroom over the years but it never got any less humiliating. At least, once they had managed to get him out of his soiled clothes, Haymitch was graciously allowed to wash himself alone even if the boy refused to shut the door while he looked for clean pajamas in the bedroom.
He insisted on getting dressed by himself despite the fact that he was unsteady. Peeta hovered right next to him with outstretched hands to prevent a fall and Haymitch tried not to resent that too much.
"We'll need to fix that mirror." he muttered.
"I'll take care of it." the boy offered.
Haymitch managed the few steps to the bedroom and froze on the threshold when he saw the damages. "Shit. She's going to kill me." The room was a mess. It looked worse than before Effie had come to live with him. Clearly, his hallucinating self had paid no mind to the fact his former escort would have his balls on a plate for that.
"We'll fix that too." Peeta promised, helping Haymitch to the bed. "You just get some rest. I think the worst of it is over now."
The worst of it wasn't the actual withdrawals – yes, that felt as if he was agonizing and as if there would be no end to the pain but that passed eventually – the worst of it was the thirst.
The constant thirst that water didn't quench and that made him an outright asshole to everyone who was trying to help in the days following him waking up in that bathtub.
There was no liquor left in the house and nobody in Twelve would sell him any. He had very persuasive friends.
A part of him was grateful, the biggest part was angry and resentful… He wanted to claw his own skin out. He wanted to scream and rage and hit something very badly. He fixed the mirror because it was something to do. He tidied up for the same reason. He went on walks in the woods with Katniss because he was restless and they argued for hours because he scared away her game by being too loud…
The news about the pregnancy came out in the middle of that and he was happy Effie wasn't there to shoulder it. Journalists were forbidden to put a foot in the Village, which helped hiding the fact she wasn't actually there. As for Haymitch… He avoided them as often as possible and tossed a hundred 'no comment' in a second when they managed to corner him. At long last, the kids got fed up and called Plutarch who released an official statement on their behalf stating they were expecting, happy, and would like their privacy to be respected. The wolves calmed down a bit after that but he was sure it was only the eye of the storm.
He refused to take Effie's phone calls.
He pretended it was because he still wasn't completely back in his own head but the truth was he didn't know what to tell her. His decision to plunge into sobriety had been a hasty one, one he had taken while watching her train leave the station. True, he had been more or less cutting down for a while now, refusing to admit to himself why he was doing it but also unable to just… give up without a fight. Yes, the situation was delicate and, no, he didn't think they would be the best parents. But he didn't want to give that child up without a fight.
He wanted to convince her they could do this.
And he didn't want to do that on the phone, still recovering from days and nights spent screaming his head off. He would be mean. He would be nasty. He would lash out and hurt her.
And that wasn't the way to go.
The kids were good at deflecting but she obviously knew something was wrong. It had been over a week since she had left and she was growing insistent, not at all buying the flu excuse anymore. When Peeta barged in the living-room one evening after taking her daily call, Haymitch wasn't completely surprised. He was lying on the couch, glaring at the adoption pamphlets that had been left in neat piles on the coffee table for his eventual perusal.
"Jo's on the phone for you." the boy said.
He frowned and shot out of the couch, catastrophic scenarios already flashing through his head. "It's Effie? The baby?" He stormed in the kitchen without leaving the boy a chance to answer, grabbing the phone from where Peeta had placed it on the dresser. "What's wrong?"
"Fucking finally." Jo drawled out, at the other end of the line. "Good to know you're still alive. Annie and I were starting to wonder if the two lovebirds had killed you and buried you in the backyard."
"What wrong with Effie?" he insisted, his heart pounding.
He was trying not to panic, he was trying hard. His fingers were twitching for a bottle of liquor they wouldn't find. There were pills for anxiety, though. Pills Larcher had prescribed but Haymitch had refused to touch. He had given them to Peeta with strict orders to only relinquish them if it was an emergency. He could see the boy lurking on the threshold now, his hand in his pocket, no doubt wondering if the emergency was coming.
"Aside from you being a jerk?" Johanna snapped. "She's sobbing her fucking heart out on Annie's lap, has been for days, that's what's wrong with your stupid escort. She says it's hormones, I call bullshit. What the fuck are you playing at, Haymitch? She thinks you hate her." Seven's victor's voice turned into a growl. "Now's a shitty time to come back to your senses about her."
His breathing gradually calmed down as he realized what was going on. "But she's fine, yeah?"
"No, she's not fine! Did you fucking listen to anything I just said?" Jo snapped. "Trinket! I've got your asshole on the phone for you." There were a few noises on the other side and then a final hiss from Johanna. "You fix this."
More noises and then a familiar breathing coupled with some sniffing. Haymitch winced.
"Hey, sweetheart." he whispered softly, gesturing at the boy to get lost. He wasn't going to do this with an audience.
Peeta nodded his understanding and retreated to the living-room, granting him some privacy – not something he took for a given those days since the kids were worse than jailors, sticking around his house at all times of day and night.
"Hello, Haymitch." Effie answered, making an honest effort to sound confident and detached.
There was a long awkward silence. He cleared his throat, not sure what to say. "How are you doing? You've seen your parents yet?"
Silence dragged and, when she talked, her tone was clipped, distress replaced by annoyance. "No, they are arriving tomorrow, as a matter of fact. Something you would know if you had been answering my calls."
No beating around the bush then.
"I've been sick." he said. "The kids said they told you."
"Oh, please." she scoffed. "Who has the flu for more than a couple of days? It has been a whole week. At least find a believable excuse next time. If you didn't want to talk to me…"
"I've really been sick." he cut her off, irritated. "Ask Larcher if you don't believe me."
There was a pause. She was thinking so loud he could almost hear her. "Are you lying to me?"
He sighed. "Look, truth? I've been better for a couple of days but I'm not in the best mood and I didn't want… I'm tired, yeah?"
"For real? Or did you go on a bender and…" she insisted.
"Yeah, forgot. That's how you see me, right? A drunk." he sneered. It was exactly what he had wanted to avoid.
"Do not be ridiculous. You know it is not true." she snapped. "But it has been days and you would not pick up the phone and I could tell the children were not telling me everything. What is going on? Tell me at once. Are you truly ill? Is it serious? Should I come back? I would have come back sooner but Peeta kept saying it would be better for the baby if I wasn't here and I was afraid it was all an excuse and you just did not want me around you so…"
"It's fine, sweetheart." he interrupted, a bit pacified by the worry in her voice. "I'm better, promise. Nothing to worry about. Just a bad case of flu."
"Are you one hundred percent certain you are not mad at me?" she hesitated.
He was mad at her. For having a point about the whole thing.
"I miss you." he confessed in a mumble, after checking Peeta wasn't lurking around. "The kids are behaving like mother hens."
"You do tend to be a drama queen when you are ill. To be fair." she chuckled. He could hear her relax. "I miss you too. Terribly so. Perhaps you could… Perhaps you could join me? We could book a hotel room… We could…"
"I'm not sure it would be a great time, sweetheart…" He wrinkled his nose. "You've got your parents coming and…"
"Mother said she would not mind officially meeting you." she hesitated. "If you would be agreeable, that is. And we could… We could talk. If you have thought enough about the… situation."
"We're back to calling the shrimp a situation?" he snorted.
She breathed out. "Haymitch…"
"I can't come right now." he declared before she could insist. "Look, Effie… It's nothing to do with you, yeah? Just don't feel like making the trip to Four. Walking to the woods is enough to make me want to puke so a train… When are you coming back?"
"I am unsure." she replied and he could plainly hear her disappointment. "Are you sure you are not angry with me? I know… Haymitch, I know what you would prefer for us to do but…"
"It's got nothing to do with that, Princess." he sighed.
"If you truly are so ill… Perhaps I ought to come back after all…" she suggested.
"Don't." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You wanted to see your family." God knew why because seeing her family had never made her happy before, on the contrary it tended to upset her. But if he had learned anything in the last four months, it was that pregnant women had whims. "You call me tomorrow, yeah?"
"I will call." she snorted. "But will you answer?"
He rolled his eyes, his lips stretching in a smirk despite himself. "Guess you'll have to wait and see, sweetheart…"
She laughed but it was still a bit tensed. She hesitated a little and then sighed. "I love you."
His heart missed a beat and then it raced twice as fast as if to catch up. It made him want to reach for a bottle but it also made him feel strangely warm inside. The words were still frightening but he thought he could probably get used to them. It had been more than two decades since he had last heard them before she had whispered them in his ear. He had forgotten how they could make someone feel.
"Well, I don't hate you…" he joked. This time her chuckles were more genuine. "Goodnight, Effie."
Goodnight, shrimp, he almost added but swallowed it back at the last moment.
He hung up the phone and stared at it for a long time before making his way back to the living-room. Peeta was sitting on the couch, studying one of the pamphlets. Haymitch dropped next to him, letting out a long deep breath.
"She's right, you know." he scowled. "The kid would probably be better off with someone else. We've both got our problems and I'll suck balls at this. I get her point. He would be better off with someone else."
The boy remained silent and Haymitch dropped his head on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling like he had done countless times during the years between his Games and the Third Quarter Quell.
"But?" Peeta prompted eventually.
"But I want it." he said at once. "It's our baby and I want it. I want to see him grow up. I want to… I want to be here to see. I want a fucking normal life, how fucked up is that? 'Cause I don't deserve it. I know I don't. And if you'd have asked me four months ago, I'd have said I'd never want kids. But…"
"It's within reach." Peeta nodded wisely. "I don't think it's wrong for you to want it. And I don't think the problem is that Effie doesn't want it. She does… She's just…"
"Scared, yeah." he finished for the boy. "I know. She's not the only one."
He snorted. That was putting it mildly. Without liquor to help him and give him some liquid courage… Fear was almost paralyzing.
The pills Larcher had prescribed helped make sure the transition from addiction to sobriety was less painful than last time – nothing could have been as terrible as the weeks spent agonizing alone in one of Thirteen's cells anyway – but it didn't make it easy. It was a struggle. An every day, every hour, every minute struggle.
"She wants the best for the baby." he added. "She's just lucid about that not being me."
"That's stupid, Haymitch." Peeta countered, shaking his head. "She knows you're a good father. You're a good father to Katniss and me and we're not even your kids." Haymitch awkwardly shifted on the couch, embarrassed. Peeta never skirted around those kinds of topic when he and Katniss had all those ways of talking about that without actually talking about it… Peeta wasn't done though. "I think she's lost and she's afraid she won't do a good job."
"Stupid." he scoffed immediately.
"Well… Maybe you should tell her that instead of sitting here." the boy shrugged. "Tell her what you want."
Tell her what he wanted…
As if it was that easy.
They had never simply toldeach other what they wanted.
They had always screamed and fought and taken by force…
Talking didn't come naturally to them.
Next week, we actually meet Effie's parents. Will Haymitch manage to explain his own feelingsbefore that? :p What did you think of today's chapter? Let me know!
