Chapter 10: Changing The Future
After the watch was destroyed, Haymitch began to put things in motion. Together with Beetee, they approached the Junior Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee.
"Why should I trust you? And why would you trust me?"
"Smart question," Haymitch leaned back in his chair. "I did my research. You were arrested once in school and you disappeared for a good few months. All the records have now been erased but people talk, y'know? If you persuade them just enough, slip the right things in their pocket, they'd talk. If it was a petty crime, say stealin' or somethin', that record will exist. Nah, I think you said something dangerous, didn't you Heavensbee?"
"Blackmailing me will not get you anywhere. What is it that you want, Mr. Abernathy? If it's something from the Games then I cannot help you, truly, I can't."
"Oh, I think you can. Look, I've been to the future," Haymitch said, a sentence that sounded crazy to his own ears but right on cue, Beetee showed the man the destroyed pieces of the watch. "If that's not evidence enough, I took somethin' from the future."
He revealed the photograph. Next to him, Beetee started. Plutarch was staring at it as if he couldn't quite believe it.
"That's a doctored photograph," Plutarch frowned. "That's your escort - Euphemia Trinket. Who is the child?"
"My daughter and yeah, that's my escort 'cept that she's also my wife, in the future. You... You're going to be Uncle Plutarch. That's what my daughter called you."
He remembered the boy, Rye, who referred to Plutarch as such, but the Gamemaker didn't need to know that. It was the same difference.
This," Haymitch waved the photograph, "isn't going to come true if the Games doesn't end. Listen, Heavensbee, you ain't like the others, alright? You've been Junior for what? 10 years now? You haven't been promoted 'cause you're soft on your job. Different Gamemakers come up with different traps in the arena, different mutts and yours... Yours are never quite as deadly as the others. You see those tributes as children. You know they're just innocent children."
"You have a group of friends, Mr. Heavensbee, that shares the same sentiment as yours," Beetee added. "We can work together. Your people and ours; Capitol and District. Not many people agree with the Games here in the Capitol but they're just too afraid to do anything so if it's not us, who then?"
All they asked was for Plutarch to be their eyes and ears but as the years passed, he became so much more to them. Plutarch had contacts and connections, and he was instrumental in contacting and liaising with District Thirteen. He was good at his job – planning and strategizing – and Haymitch recruited other Victors for him. Plutarch wanted Effie because her connections could be useful but Haymitch put his foot down. The lesser she knew, the better. Something was going to happen to her in the future and if he could minimise the risk he would do it.
His future-self had warned him and it was true. His spirit grew weary as each year passed without the appearance of Katniss and Peeta. The Games worn him down. The guilt, the self-loathing and the helplessness crept under his skin and became front and centre as it had done before.
Apart from the movement that Beetee and him started which Plutarch now controlled, Effie was the only silver lining he had, a balm that soothed him. She was still difficult and a pain but at the end of the day, she was always there.
While he was not exactly sure what it was that he felt for her, the possessiveness that reared its ugly head when he saw her get too friendly with another man, sponsors usually, threw him off.
Losing a tribute would set off a familiar dance between them. Often, he would climb into her bed, seeking her comfort, and at times, it she would come to him. Getting lost inside of her became his favourite activity. His mind slowed down and he stopped thinking, and as his primal instinct took over, his pleasure and hers was the only important need.
There were moments when he thought about how unhealthy and toxic it was for them to make use of each other's body. Those thoughts never lasted because when he traced his finger down her spine and kissed her below her earlobe, she would sigh in contentment. If they were truly only using each other, she would leave instead of curling into him as if she had found a place she belonged before falling asleep, and he wouldn't have let her.
That was his problem. He let her get away with things. He let her snuggle and cuddle into him, he let her hold his hand when a tribute was murdered because it made him feel useful, he would squeeze it back to let her know that he was there for her, he let her talk and nag about his drinking until she turned blue in the face, he let her fall in love with him.
He remembered the night she whispered those words to him when she thought he was asleep; 70th Games, the third night after the Games started. The next morning after she left, he pulled out the photograph again. He had not looked at it after he had shown it to Plutarch and Beetee.
"Five more years," he muttered. "Something will happen then."
Effie was still Capitol. That did not change by much. She was still dressed in outrageous clothes and painted her face with vibrant colours but he had learnt to separate the Effie that was a front for the public and the woman that she was.
There were glimpses of the woman he knew from the future when she flashed him her real smile or when she tenderly traced the planes of his face and kiss the scar on his stomach. He saw it in the moments when she waited up for him in the Penthouse when he leave at night with Chaff to a bar, the way her eyes strayed towards little girls on the streets and then to him.
She thought Aria was their secret but he had shared that with Beetee and Plutarch. Eventually, when the 74th Games rolled around, they had their own.
During the Reaping for the 74th Games, without truly intending to, Effie changed the course of the entire future and helped to set out the Rebellion which Haymitch had laid the foundation to for years now. He kept the knowledge of what she did to himself because that was the only way he could keep her safe.
Haymitch was slightly inebriated during that Reaping but he remembered trying to hug her in front of national television. Effie was annoyed and embarrassed, and he was absolutely certain she would lock her door to him that night.
Still, she gathered her wits and righted her wig before she tottered over to the microphone. It made him flinch when she tapped her fingers against it, making sure the microphone works.
After years of waiting for Katniss and Peeta to show up only to be disappointed, Haymitch was not expecting much. With the Third Quarter Quell looming and slated for the following year, and the war he had heard about inching closer, Haymitch had resigned himself to assume that Katniss and Peeta would be the Quarter Quell's tributes, just like he was. He wondered what was so special about them that made them so incredibly important, as Mr and Mrs Abernathy had insisted they were.
"Welcome, welcome to the 74th Annual Hunger Games," Effie chirped brightly.
He tuned out the rest of what she said. It was always the same speech leading to the video recording that explained the necessity of the Games. He kept his gaze on her as she started the reaping which was a good thing too because he saw the way her eyes widened when she read the name on the slip of paper.
Effie's voice echoed throughout the square.
"Primrose Everdeen."
Haymitch straightened in his seat and slowly, a singular thought emerged through this intoxicated, muddled mind.
Wrong name. She's got the wrong name.
Unless... Aspen's daughters are going to be reaped one after another in different years.
A hush silence fell over the crowd when a small, petite young girl stepped out. Everyone could tell she was terrified and one look at her, Haymitch knew the girl wouldn't last in the Games.
The heat became too unbearable. Haymitch began pulling on the collar of his shirt. The beads of perspiration were rolling on his back and his shirt was sticking to his skin. Something did not sit right. Stomach churning, Haymitch tempered the urge to get Effie to read the paper correctly.
Then his entire body stilled. The voice of Mrs Abernathy, clipped and direct, rose amongst his memories.
"It will start with a volunteer."
His brows furrowed. As soon as he thought of what Mrs. Abernathy had said all those years ago, right on cue, a dark-haired girl pushed her way through the crowd only to be held back by Peacekeepers.
"I volunteer. I volunteer!" the girl said firmly, her voice echoed throughout the Square as she struggled against the Peacekeeper's hold on her. "I volunteer as tribute!"
Twelve never had a volunteer before and as Effie conferred with the Mayor, she caught Haymitch's eyes. They shared a knowing look.
It was happening. This was the year Twelve would bring home victors.
"What's your name?" Effie asked the question that both she and Haymitch already knew the answer to.
"Katniss Everdeen."
"Well, I bet your hat that was your sister!"
He wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to laugh.
Stupid question, sweetheart.
The confusion was written plainly on Effie's face when the crowd raised three fingers in a salute. Effie had no idea what it meant but he did. When the crowd lowered their hands, Effie was still rooted to the spot, unprepared and caught off guard by the turn of events.
"Get on with it," he growled under his breath.
Startled, Effie walked over to the boy's bowl but something was clearly bothering her. She was deep in thought. He could see it from the screen and he knew her well enough to know what every frown and every downturn of her lip meant.
Distracted, Effie lifted a random paper. It remained in her hand, folded in her palm. Her eyes were wide and bright, her pupils blown open and when she raised her head, in a single breath, Effie called out a name.
"Peeta Mellark."
His gaze shifted immediately to the paper still folded in the palm of her hand.
"Shit," he breathed out. "Damn it, Effie."
There were countless things that were wrong with the scene.
Their future selves had never told them – or him, at least – both of the kids' last name. As far as he remembered, he wasn't told. Haymitch no idea that Peeta was a Mellark since he wasn't in the habit of socialising with others in District Twelve to even know their kids name.
Effie clearly knew and it wasn't because she had seen the boy's name from the paper moments ago. Effie had not even given the paper a single glance. She had not read the boy's name from the paper. She had called it out from memory.
The cryptic event that they had gathered from the future – a volunteer, a girl named Katniss, a boy named Peeta, two victors from the same year – were slowly falling into place and Effie, unknowingly, had set the it all in motion just because she had foreknowledge.
Later that night in the train, when she finally handed him the paper from the boys' reaping bowl, just as he suspected, it wasn't Peeta Mellark written on it. Allan Johnson was supposed to have been Twelve's tribute, another kid from the Seam.
"What have I done, Haymitch?" Her voice wavered and she covered her face with her hands.
"How did – How did you know his name, sweetheart? They were always just 'Katniss' and 'Peeta' to us."
"You told me," she let her hands dropped to her lap. "In the future, I mean. You said... You said that you'll take Willow and Rye to their father's bakery after school. You told me the bakery's name – Mellark's Bakery, first corner on the left."
Sometime, he forgot that Effie's memory is sharp. If she could remember the wrongdoings an Octavia Lance did to her when she was eight, she would certainly remember minor details from the future.
"I never knew he's Eva Mellark's boy until today," Haymitch admitted.
That information surprised her.
"You never tried to find out about Peeta and Katniss when we returned from the future? You had nine years to find out."
Haymitch shrugged.
"I already knew who Katniss was. Her father was an old friend. I didn't find it necessary to go find out more 'bout them. I was curious, sure, but I don't wanna know more than I should. The future ain't set in stone – that's what Mr. Abernathy told me. Didn't want to get my hopes up."
Effie let out a breath and turned on her sides, facing away from him. Haymitch kicked off his shoes and socks, and discarded his clothes before slipping under the covers. He touched the swell of her hip tentatively and she rested her hand on top of his, pulling it over her until his fingers were splayed on her stomach. She burrowed against him and he could feel her shaking in his arms, trying to suppress her tears.
"It wasn't his name," she choked out. "I condemned him. I made a mistake and I condemned him."
"You can't think that way," he frowned and pressed a kiss on her shoulder. "He's meant to be reaped. It's not going to be Allan and Katniss. It's Peeta and Katniss – that's the future we saw. That's the two victors that we're going to get. You saved us, sweetheart. They're going to bring an end to this."
She turned in his arms. The tears had gathered at the corner of her eyes and when she blinked, it rolled down her cheeks.
"I've never forgotten what Mr. Abernathy told me. Do you remember when I told you about it? You said it was a message from him, something he wanted us to remember and so I did. 'Katniss and Peeta are important, Effie. They gave us this peace. They're important.' And Mrs. Abernathy mentioned a volunteer. Everything fits, Haymitch! Katniss volunteered. I thought... Well, I thought that if Katniss was already on that stage with us then it must be Peeta's name on that paper. The future -"
"I know, sweetheart, you don't have to justify it to me. I know."
She began playing with the ends of his hair absentmindedly, coiling it around her finger and then brushing it away from his face.
"It wasn't his time. He's supposed to be at home with his family now, safe.
"Maybe it's a fixed point in time," he speculated. "So he's supposed to be in the Games. The future will progress the way it is meant to. He'll live, Effie."
"Anything can happen in the Games. You and I both know that."
"Look, it's happened," he told her gruffly. "It's happened so don't beat yourself up over it. What we need to do now is figure out how to get 'em out of the Games. I need you to work with me on this. Can you do that? Give me an angle to play with."
"Of course," she promised. "You and I, we're a team, aren't we?"
"Yeah. Go to sleep, sweetheart. Don't think about it."
Telling her not to think about it had not worked before and certainly would not work now. He was about to roll over and get a drink from the bar cart outside when her next question stopped him.
"Do you think this was how it happened for Mrs. Abernathy too or did it turned out this way because we went into the future and got to know that there was a boy... there will be a boy named Peeta? I've been thinking about it since the Reaping..."
Haymitch rubbed his temple with the heel of his palm. In the future, Beetee had talked about paradox and it was glaringly clear now that this was one of it. This was what future-Beetee had meant that by being in the future, they could cause changes without even being aware of it.
"I guess we'll never know. Think about it this way, Effie... Maybe it was worst for her," he suggested. "She must have known that a kid by the name of Peeta will be in the Games, just like you. She could have seen the name on that slip of paper first unlike you. She must have seen it was Allan Johnson, a different name, not Peeta. But she knew 'bout Peeta, yeah?And 'cause of that... 'cause she knows that in the future, Katniss and Peeta will be important, she might have even called out Peeta Mellark on purpose. What if she had done that, sweetheart, to make sure that the future stays the way it is supposed to?"
Effie was quiet for a long time.
"I don't know," she broke her silence. "That seems... harsh to knowingly put the boy in the Games..."
"Yeah, but you didn't do it on purpose, Effie. Things played out differently for you. You didn't condemn him the way intentionally calling out his name would have."
Effie pushed herself up, letting the covers pool to her lap. His eyes were drawn to the pert nipples beneath the thin nightdress. She was beautiful, he thought, with her honey blonde hair a little messy and the tip of her nose slightly red from crying.
"Please let me see it," she requested. "I need some assurance that what I put Peeta through will be worth it in the end."
Effie had never asked for it before, even through some of the more brutal losses over the last nine years, which meant she was desperately longing for comfort. He swung his legs over the bed and went over to his room where he rummaged through his duffel bag and extracted the photograph kept hidden between the pages of an old book.
He returned to her bedroom and handed it to her. Effie stared at the family photo for a long time, taking in every little detail.
"Can you miss someone you've never met?" she wondered, staring at the little toddler on his future-self's lap. "Or want something so badly you'll do anything to have it?"
"Yeah, sure I do," he grunted. "Listen, Effie, nobody must know that you never read that paper before you call out the boy's name, you understand?"
The yearning in her eyes that the photo brought her disappeared in a flash and it was replaced instead by fear and worry.
"When those two kids win, and if people knew what happened today, they might say that you rigged the Games. They won't touch the boy because by then he'd be a victor but they'll go for you. I don't know what's going to happen to you between now and the end of the war, Effs, but I'm going to try and keep you safe best as I can."
He couldn't say the words as easily as she could, but she should know it in his acts and in the things he would do for her, and she did because Effie threw herself at him. She looped her arms around his neck and clung to him.
"I love you."
"I got you, sweetheart," he murmured as he patted her back. The photograph was lying face up on the bed, staring at him. "The future will be just the way we saw it."
It better be.
I decided not to follow the book about Haymitch falling off the stage at the Reaping bc I needed him to see what happened when Effie pulled out Peeta's name. And yes, Effie Trinket just caused a causal loop in the temporal paradox which according to wiki is - 'time travel that occurs when a future event is the cause of a past event, which in turn is the cause of the future event.' Go Effie.
Also, majority of my headcanon involves Plutarch approaching Haymitch, not the other way round. But haymitch has been to the future and he knows that Plutarch will be in the future. A Gamemaker he's friendly with? A Gamemaker will be a good inside man so it makes sense in Once Upon A Future for Haymitch to do the approaching.
A/N: This is the last chapter, supposedly, but I've decided to do an epilogue of them meeting their past selves. Like I explained on tumblr, I feel that the story should come full circle by having that meeting. I know it's unfair to tell you in Chapter 9 that this is the last chapter and then tell you there'll be an epilogue. I'm sorry! When I planned the story, i didn't intend to have an epilogue but it seems appropriate now.
Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts! What do you think about the way their r/s progress or if you were surprise by the reaping? Anything at all~ :))