Because this chapter was really meant to be in the same as the previous chapter, I thought I'll just update it today since I had it written out already.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Phone calls.

Haymitch had not factored in the phone calls, had not consider it as part of something he was supposed to do after Effie had given birth. Yet, here he was spending the better part of his afternoon on the phone as he kept a watchful eye on Effie who was attempting but failing to finish up the food.

"It's so bland, Haymitch," she complained as he dialled Annie's number.

"It's hospital food. What do you expect?" he muttered.

"Can't you make a run to town? Get me something else?"

"No," he answered, cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear. He ignored the face she made. "Now finish it up and don't waste – yes, hello, Annie. Effie gave birth yesterday morning."

Johanna wasn't even trying to be subtle. Haymitch could hear her breathing on the phone as she once again listened in to the conversation on the other extension, occasionally interrupting his conversation with Annie with questions of her own.

"So which one's your favourite son so far?" she teased.

"That's not a fair question, Mason," he retorted. "I'd like to think I'll treat them equally."

"I bet it's that boy… Ethan, was it? The one you named."

"Leave him alone, Johanna," Annie quipped. "Haymitch, you probably have several other people to call. I could call Beetee if you like - tell him the good news."

Next, he called Plutarch to update him on Effie's situation. As much as he wanted to ask about the meeting – if Plutarch spoke on his behalf or if the meeting was postponed – he didn't. There would be time for the law later. He didn't want to think about it at the moment, not with his wife on the hospital bed next to him only just having gone through child birth and surgery and gifting him with two sons. Plutarch to his credit, did not mention about it at all instead, he highlighted a different issue altogether.

"The media, the paparazzi," Plutarch began.

"Dammit. What about them?"

"Address them. The same way Katniss and Peeta did when their daughter was born. Give them what they want – a statement or some details. Let them take a picture of your boys. Let them publish it just this once or they'll keep coming round to your place until they get it."

"A statement, maybe, but not their pictures. That, I am not willing to give."

"Sure, I understand. It'll be good, Haymitch. Show them that some good could come out of the law. Boost their morale a little."

"No, don't talk about it," Haymitch shook his head. Next to him, Effie eyed him curiously. "I'll call you when we're ready and you set it up. I need to run this by Effie first."

Finally, Haymitch made the phone call he knew required his utmost patience. Haymitch called Felix. He was convinced that man had been waiting by his phone all day because Felix picked it up after the first ring.

"I have been waiting all day for this call, Haymitch Abernathy," he exclaimed, confirming Haymitch's suspicions. "It's a good thing you're handsome or I will not forgive this transgression."

"You need to stop calling me – never mind," he sighed. "What gender did you bet on again?"

"Girls," Felix answered.

"Alright, you owe me a bottle of the Capitol's finest wine."

"Boys?" Felix screeched.

"Haymitch!" Effie exclaimed. "You were betting on their gender? That was so … so…. Unbelievable."

"Yeah, twin boys, a little early but healthy otherwise," Haymitch informed him, turning a deaf ear to Effie. "Both mother and sons are healthy. I have been with Effie all these while so excuse me, if my priority wasn't to call you."

"That's fine but I have a bone to pick with you, mister. You didn't even call to tell me she was in labour and you happened to be at the Capitol at that time! I could have gone to Twelve with you. Did you know who told me? Johanna Mason. I thought I must have been dreaming when I heard that frightful woman's voice on my phone."

"You understand that you're not always at the forefront of my mind? I have other things to worry about other than whether or not I should inform you about – "

"She's my cousin."

"She's my wife," the words spilled out of his lips almost naturally. "Listen, I called to tell you that they're boys and healthy and Effie said hello. I'm saying goodbye."

"No, wait just a minute, good sir. It just occurred to me; it finally sunk in that they're boys! Boys!" Felix emitted a delighted squeal. "I would have to sign them up for a membership at the boutique I frequent! I wonder if there's a minimum age requirement. Anyway, my nephews would be beautiful! Now you understand that we're not like before but we still do take our clothing seriously. I would wrap them in leather and silk and -"

"You will do no such thing," Haymitch interrupted.

Effie had shuffled out of her hospital room, mouthing to him that she was going to take a walk down the corridor and circulate the blood in her legs.

Apart from a disgruntled harrumph, Felix did not pursue the topic for which Haymitch was glad.

"What are my darling little nephews called? I can't wait to visit! I'll be there this weekend."

"One's called Ethan. She named the other boy Tristan. And not this weekend, Felix, let her rest."

"Oh, very well. On another note, it is truly delightful to hear you speak of naming your sons as though you've both just adopted two kittens and decided that one should name each."

"Your sarcasm is duly noted," Haymitch acknowledge, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wanted nothing more than to hang up on Felix but he had become more than just this pesky, annoying person that Haymitch first met. For all of his peculiar and bizarre manner, Felix had shown that he could be trusted and unlike his brother, he had never meant any harm to either Haymitch or Effie.

"Tristan," Felix repeated the name. "That sounds strangely familiar."

Haymitch stiffened.

"Oh no, no, you're not telling me she named my son after some distant cousin or uncle or something equally undesirable."

"Excuse me, I resent that!" Felix snapped. "Tristan… hmmm."

Haymitch snickered but deep down, he felt the cold ice dread spreading through him. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know the history behind the name or Effie's motivation for it.

"Oh! I know! No wonder it sounded so familiar. I think she named him after the protagonist… the hero in a tragic romance tale. It's the story our grandmother used tell us when we were children. Have you heard of it? The story of Tristan."

There was a pregnant pause as Haymitch's mind slowly internalise the information. A story.

"A hero… what was that you say?" he asked. "A tragic…what?"

Felix was quiet on the phone. The situation suddenly felt tense and Felix sensed it.

"Well, I could be wrong," he added hastily. "I'm certain I'm wrong. It's probably an entirely different reason."

XxX

Haymitch debated with himself whether or not to ask her. It bothered him. Not knowing. Convinced that he deserve to know, Haymitch decided to ask her. After all, he told her about Ethan. He just needed to find the appropriate time.

Haymitch broached the subject the next night when Dr. Bell declared Effie fit to be discharged the following morning.

He lounged on the chair, flipping through the birth registration pack. 48 hours had long passed and Haymitch had not registered their births much to Effie's chagrin.

"Who is Tristan?" Haymitch asked casually, filling up the form and eyeing her out of the corner of his eyes.

Effie tore her gaze away from the book she was reading and frowned at him. "Our son?"

"And was our son named after someone?"

Her eyes flashed briefly to meet his. "No. What makes you even – "

"No? How about from a story?"

Effie must have sensed that he had her cornered. She closed her book and kept it aside before turning to face him.

"Perhaps I did," she said. "Named him after someone… from a tale… but only because the name reminded me of our situation. Did Felix tell you when you called him?"

Haymitch scowled, putting his pen down. The forms could wait. "This story… Wasn't it … It didn't end well, did it? It was tragic, that's what your cousin told me. I don't see anything tragic about us."

"You're not looking hard enough," she responded. "It's a story about love. He loved her."

Love?

If it was about love then he didn't understand what that had to do with them. He wanted an explanation, not more questions.

"And that reminds you of us… how exactly?"

"What? Love? It doesn't," she shrugged. She fixed him with a look. Haymitch had a distinct impression that this was not something she wanted to talk about. How Effie could be deluded to thinking that he would not ask after the name was beyond him. Perhaps it was his laissez-faire attitude when it came to deciding their names.

"I don't understand why you're making such a big fuss over his name. It's done, though, isn't it?"

Yes, he decided. There was something that did not sit well. Haymitch became wary and alert.

"Look, sweetheart, I thought you place such high value on the meaning of a name. You're the one who told me to think about it carefully."

"I did and I still do think the appropriate name is important," she assured him. Haymitch raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to explain herself and knowing that he would not let the subject go, she conceded. "It was not so much the name as it was with the story and what I took out of it."

"Not helping, Effs."

"When my grandmother told me the story of Tristan and Isolde, I saw an honourable man. A man divided between the loyalty he had to his adopted father and the love he had for the woman. He sacrificed a life with her for his father. In a strange way, he reminded me of you. A little."

"I don't follow."

Effie lost him there. He didn't give up his life for the girl he loved. She was killed because of him and he certainly didn't do anything where love was concern out of loyalty for his father.

"You are honourable, you know? You wanted so much to do right by the people in this country that you're willing to sacrifice your family. Like Tristan – sacrifice."

"I'm not sacrificing -" Haymitch ran his hand through his hair. "So let me get this straight – you named our son after honour and sacrifice or because that person in your story reminded you of me? Either way it sounds terrible, Effie. What were you thinking?"

"No, Haymitch. You're not listening to me. It is a story about love, that's the central theme. I named him after that. It was just… the main character emulate certain virtues that reminded me of you, that's all."

"You named him after love?" he clarified.

"Yes."

"Why?" he choked out, the confusion still clouding his brain.

Whatever restraint Effie had was lost as her blue eyes darken at his question and she gave him the explanation grudgingly, an explanation she had wanted to keep to herself. Effie had never wanted him to know the reason for the name. He had never shown much interest in it before and she never thought he would ever be interested.

"Because love is clearly lacking in this marriage," she snapped. "And it may seem silly, Haymitch, to fill that void by naming my son after a love story but what else could I do? The story stayed with me. It reminded me of comfort and home, sitting by the fireplace and listening to my grandmother talk. It reminded me of a family that I once had. And my sons are my family now, Haymitch. You're my family, too."

His fingers dug into the arms of the chair. Haymitch clenched his jaw. He needed to get out. He couldn't sit here and listen to her talk about love and family and marriage.

He stayed, though. Haymitch sat frozen, incapable of moving even if he desperately wanted to.

You're my family.

"I know this sounds delusional but I had dreams. And in one of those dreams, I wanted so much for someone to love me as fiercely as Tristan loved Isolde. The feeling intensified when I lost my sister, the only person to truly care for me," she said. "Yes, the story was one of a romantic tragedy but so is mine."

"Yours?" his voice thick, blanketed with a sudden fear of what was to come.

"Sometimes you love someone who doesn't love you in return and isn't that tragic in itself?" her lips quirked into a smile, a sad empty smile. "Just because you don't love me, doesn't mean that I don't love you. You're my friend and my husband and you are the last person I thought I'd marry. You weren't featured in any of my dreams of a man I'd fall in love with. So believe me when I say, you're the very last person I thought I'll love and the last person I thought I'll have children with."

Haymitch saw it, ridiculous as it would seem, the cracks in her heart. He felt her yearning, felt the quiet desperate need for him to fill the empty spaces in her soul and it decapitated him. He was not equipped to deal with such honest emotions. Haymitch wondered if it was too late to ask her to be quiet, to swallow her confession back. She wasn't supposed to fall in love with him, no less. It was a marriage none of them wanted and there was no room for love.

"But you are. You are that person. Like Tristan, he never ended up with the woman he loved and that's not so very different from me, is it? And that was what reminded me of our situation. Where would I be when you succeed in rescinding the law? But, before you get mad at me, I never named our son after such heartbreak. To me, Tristan means love. That's all there is. He means nothing else – just love. I love Tristan and Ethan, and I love their father. Whether or not you return my feelings is inconsequential because it isn't going to change anything. Just promise me one thing, Haymitch."

"Yes?"

"Promise me you would love your sons the way you could never love me. Love them the way you love Myra."

Myra. Myra who was dead, the one I still dream of.

"Effie…" he swallowed. "I - You're making a mistake."

"So change his name," she answered tiredly, pulling the covers up and turning away from him. "Change his name to something you deemed fit, something else that doesn't scare you. Because that's what's going on isn't it, Haymitch? I think you're afraid. You hold on to your past because it's familiar. You hold on to it like a lifeline and if you let go, you'll drown. We're not going to drown you, you know."

Haymitch wasn't referring to the name. He was referring to what she just told him, her feelings for him. But how could he tell her that without completely shattering her.

"Better do it quick before the poor child get used to the name."

And finally, somebody confessed the truth about her feelings. Wow I've never used that many 'love' in a chapter before.

I was, still am, worried about how she admitted her feelings and I think I've rewrote it a couple of times. This chapter actually stresses me out because to me, it's important. idk, i'm silly. Do review :)

P.S: i have also made a gifset of random chapters from Consortium on my tumblr - the latest being Effie giving birth. ALSO, HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELIZABETH BANKS !