Prompt: Effie gets pregnant and has to tell Haymitch, but finds out that he was having an affair and caught them together? And Effie decides to leave but tells Haymitch that she's carrying their child? And yeah, you can continue with the rest :) Thank you!
The last part was on Akachankami's express orders so...
Easier
Haymitch's hands clenched on the woman waist, pulling clumsily at her clothes to try to get rid of them. He was drunk, so drunk he couldn't remember if her name was Alkena or Alkera or Alkesomething… He also purposely didn't think of the age gap between them. She was a victor from Eight, five years past perhaps, she couldn't be more than twenty-three and he was… too drunk to care.
She was straddling his lap and skillfully getting him more aroused by the second. They were on the couch of the penthouse living-room and he was dimly aware that they should relocate to his bedroom before someone walked on them. He was about to suggest just that when she kissed his sentence away and he stopped thinking because she was a very good kisser.
In retrospect, he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was by the thud of a purse hitting the ground or the audible – and frankly ridiculous – gasp.
"Haymitch!" Effie shrieked.
Alkesomething froze and stared at the escort before rolling her eyes and resuming kissing him, obviously thinking she would go away. How stupid of her… Haymitch pushed her away because he sensed drama coming and while he wasn't a big fan of that kind of domestic squabble, catfight were always entertaining.
Effie's mouth was pinched in a hard line and he carefully didn't notice the tears in her eyes. Something unpleasant rolled in his stomach and he wasn't so amused anymore. He pushed Eight's victor off his lap. The woman stood there between him and Effie and eyed them both one after the other with a spark of understanding and disgust.
"Seriously?" she spat. She didn't wait for an answer, she grabbed the jacket she had shed earlier and left with a last heinous glare for Effie. It wasn't the fact that there were other women the problem, Haymitch guessed, it was the fact that one of those other women was a Capitol one.
The silence, once they were left alone, was deafening. Haymitch crushed the guilt that was starting to stir in his stomach before it could fully grow. There was nothing to feel guilty about. He had been sleeping with Effie for a few years now and then, that didn't make them an item.
"Don't start." he warned her when the silence became too much to bear. "I don't owe you anything." How could he feel so sober when he had been drunk just a minute ago? He stood and dragged his exhausted body to the liquor cart, not bothering to fix his untucked shirt or his unbuckled belt. He kept his back to her and tried hard not to be bothered by her lasting silence. Effie was never out of words. She always gave as bad as she got, that's what he loved about her. "Come on, sweetheart, spill it out or go away. Don't you have to paint your nails or something?"
He was expecting a lecture about how it wasn't proper to entertain that kind of guest in the living-room – although it didn't actually bother her when she was the one he was 'entertaining' – or perhaps a fit of jealousy because he had never gone to another woman during the Games before, she was there and she was willing so why bother? He probably wouldn't even have brought Alkewhatever back to the penthouse if he had been able to find his escort when the other victor had started flirting with him. He wasn't expecting what came out of her mouth. It wasn't even a whisper, barely a murmur.
"I'm pregnant."
The glass full of whiskey almost slipped through his fingers and he briefly closed his eyes before turning around to face her. "Congratulation." He lifted his glass in a toast. "Who's the father?"
He bet it was some sponsors… Some ridiculous man who had dyed his skin blue or green and who was really sweet and proper when they made love. He didn't like to think of anybody else putting their hands on her for some reasons but he was so sure her other lovers were tender and loving… The complete opposite of what they shared. They didn't make love, they had sex. They were rough and avid and it was always so good…
The tears filling her blue eyes rolled on her cheeks then. She looked hurt. Much more hurt than he had ever seen her.
"Do you have to ask?" she snapped. Her breathing was quick and rasping. He wondered if it was hormones already.
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do in this kind of situations?" he snorted before taking a sip of whiskey.
"I don't cheat, Haymitch." she hissed, a hand coming to rest protectively on her stomach. "Unlike you apparently."
Cheat? An idea popped into his head but it was so stupid he nearly burst out laughing right then. He blamed the alcohol because, really, how plausible was it that Effie had thought they were in a relationship?
"I don't cheat, sweetheart." he denied with a smirk. "I don't have anybody to cheat on."
She took a step back – which he found a bit out of proportions because you could have thought he had hit her.
"What am I, then?" she challenged.
He rolled his eyes. "You're convenient." He downed his glass. He didn't like the turn that conversation was taking. "Come on, Trinket, nothing to be jealous about. She didn't hold a candle to you and you're about to go play house with some rich guy." That probably meant he would get a new escort and wouldn't ever see her again. He didn't let the thought sadden him. Sadness was an old friend. "Everything's fine."
He was taken aback by her laugh because it was bitter and raw and everything Effie never was.
"How stupid are you?" she asked before running a hand on her face, smudging her make-up. "How stupid am I?" She shook her head and Haymitch's heart started to race in his chest. He had a bad feeling all of a sudden. "We're done." she stated flatly. "Whatever happens next, we're done. You don't deserve me."
"I don't deserve someone as annoying as you, I agree." he retorted but it lacked his usual snark. "Who's the father, Effie?"
Something hard flashed in her eyes and she lifted her chin. "There isn't one." Her hand found her stomach again and it was harder for him to look away this time. "We don't need him. We don't need you." She picked up her purse and turned on her heels without leaving him time to recover from that blow.
He ran after her without even thinking about it, grabbing her wrist before she could call the elevator. "This isn't my child." he said, leaving no room for argument.
She scowled at him. He wasn't sure he had ever seen her so furious. She tugged herself free from his grasp and slammed her fist hard on his chest. "Not anymore. Not if I have anything to say about it."
He gripped her arm again. "This isn't my child." He honestly didn't mean to shout but the thought… He didn't want a child. He had never wanted a child. Any child of his would end up in an arena and would die on a screen for everyone to see. He didn't want a child. He didn't want anyone to depend on him. He didn't want to care about someone only to lose them. He didn't want… "This isn't my child, Effie."
To her credit, she didn't flinch. She stepped in his space with a sneer on her face. "This baby is very much yours but you just lost all rights to him. Go find your whore, maybe she can give you another one."
Usually that was the point where he would kiss her. Now, however, he was too stunned to even think about that.
"You're a liar." he replied. He sounded calm to his own ears even though he was far from being so. "It can't be mine."
"I am no liar." She smiled a sad and bitter smile. "You, on the other hand, are both a liar and a coward."
He wanted to shout back that if there ever was a coward it was her. She was the one who had become perfectly aware of how absurd and horrible the Hunger Games were and was still too scared to say anything aloud. She was the one who belonged to the people harvesting children to kill them because of something their ancestors did almost a century ago. She was the one who buried her face in his shoulder each time one of their tributes got killed. She was the coward.
But he was a coward too and that's why he let her step in the elevator, knowing he would probably never see her – or his child – again. He was a coward because he'd rather forget this baby even existed instead of fearing for his life. It was easier.
5 years later
Haymitch quickened his steps, urging the soldier on his left to walk faster. As far as prison went, that one wasn't bad. He had certainly seen worse during the rebellion, the one where Peeta and the other victors had been kept for instance. That one was clean and almost welcoming, everything to make you forget you were in a prison in short. Being a political prisonner had its perks.
They stopped in front of the cell number sixty-three - or the room rather, because he had seen what those cells looked like and he didn't particularly think double bed, windows and TV screens were very prison-like. He waved the guard away as soon as the door was unlocked and braced himself before stepping inside.
The little girl quietly drawing in a corner of the room raised alarmed eyes but when she saw her mother smile, she went back to her stack of papers. Haymitch couldn't look away. The child was small with wavy blond hair neatly divided into two ponytails and grey eyes so like his own… She was beautiful.
"You came." Effie said softly. "I wasn't sure you would."
Tearing his gaze away from the girl was harder than he had thought it would. He had never believed in love at first sight but right then, for the first time, he did. He was head over heels for that little girl and he didn't even know her yet. He just knew she was his.
"You said they wanted to execute you." he reminded her. "Of course I was going to come, sweetheart."
He hadn't seen Effie in forever but she looked good too. As good as anyone looked those days, revolution wasn't kind on anyone.
"I didn't call you for me." she was quick to deny, avoiding his eyes. "I need you to…" She sighed and folded her arms on her chest awkwardly. "I know we didn't part on the best of terms, Haymitch, but my parents are dead, I don't have any family left. If they're going to…" She stopped at that probably because she didn't want the child to hear that her mother might get killed sooner rather than later. Coin was dead set on killing anyone who ever had anything to do with the Games, even former escorts. "I need you to take Sylia. They won't touch her if she's with you."
How ironic was that? Or perhaps it was simply really sad…
"Sylia?" he repeated, testing the name, letting it roll on his tongue. It wasn't a name he would have chosen but it was a good name nonetheless. Short and strong. Like her mother.
The child lifted her head and stared at him with curiosity. He could feel the tremors in his hands starting anew even though he had been sober since Thirteen. He hadn't let himself touch a bottle of alcohol since the rebellion. He hadn't though of finding Effie back per se but… the idea had crossed his mind now and then. Enough for him to give up his poison of choice.
"Please, Haymitch." Effie begged in a whisper that didn't carry to the child. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm. "You're her father and, right now, you're all she has. I need you to protect her. Take her out of here, prisons aren't meant for children. She's innocent."
He forced the shock of the reunion away and swallowed back the temptation of asking if all the other children hadn't been innocent too. "I'm taking you both out of here." he replied. "The Mockingjay owed me a favor, you're both safe and free to go."
Effie was an open book to him, always had been, and despite the five years gap since their last meeting he could still read her easily enough. Relief and hope flashed on her face, quickly followed by suspicion. "Why?" she asked.
"Because the Games are over, Princess." he shrugged. "And nobody will hurt my child to get to me. Because… I don't want to be a coward anymore."
Because he had never managed to forget Effie and his child and it hadn't been easier in the end. It had been worse. Not knowing where they were, not knowing if they were alright… It was worse.
Effie's eyes shone with regret and understanding. "I'm sorry. I should have… I didn't…"
"Yeah, well…" he waved her apologies away. "I'm sorry too for what it's worth. You were never just a fling, Effie." He brushed her cheek with the tip of his fingers, not daring to touch more in fear of being rejected. She had every right to reject him. "I missed you." The escort they had sent to replace her was the absolute worst and he had loathed her every step of the way and he had missed their working relationship but, more than that, he had missed her. He had missed her quirks and silliness and the way she would look at him with that same amount of annoyance and affection. But that was more than he would know how to say out loud. "Let's get out of here." There would be time to talk later. "Your flat has been requisitioned but I'm staying at a friend's and he had a guest room, if you want it that is."
Effie glanced at her daughter - their daughter - seemingly lost in thought. After a few seconds, she nodded. "Yes, that's very kind of you." Her face softened. "Do you want to meet her?"
Air went out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't even hear anything but the beating of his heart. That was what panic felt like.
"Yes." The word was rushed as if he was afraid she would change her mind and take the child away from him forever. Maybe she should. "I mean… If that's alright with you." How more awkward could it get? That girl was his child, he shouldn't have to ask permission to talk to her… But it was his fault. He had told Effie he didn't want anything to do with her…
"Of course it's alright with me." Effie smiled. "Sylia, come here."
The child clearly had been busier listening to their discussion than drawing because she bolted from her seat at the first syllable of her name. She came to lean against her mother's legs and studied him warily but not without interest.
"Who're you?" she asked, gaining a small poke from her mother for her trouble.
"Manners, Sylia." Effie chided her. "I swear if I don't tell you that fifty times a day…"
Haymitch tuned out the rest of the lecture, just like the girl it seemed. He crouched in from of the child, noticing the small scar on her chin, the light freckles and, when she finally smiled at him, the missing tooth she was so proudly showing for anyone to see. How long did it last? A few seconds? A few minutes? Effie had fallen silent somewhere along the line.
"Hi, sweetheart." he said at last. There was a lump in his throat but he really didn't know why because she was perfect. She was absolutely perfect.
Twinkling grey eyes stared at him before Sylia craned her neck to look at her mother. "Who's he, Mommy?"
Effie bit her lower lip thoughtfully and Haymitch was about to save her from the dilemma and say he was a friend when she crouched too so everyone was at the same level.
"Do you remember when I explained to you that everyone had a mommy and a daddy but that sometimes you only live with one of them?" she asked and Haymitch watched with dread and a strange sort of thrill as the girl nodded with enthusiasm. "Well… Haymitch is… Haymitch is your daddy, Sylia."
That was a sentence he had never thought he would ever hear…
The little girl glanced from Effie to him a few times, apparently waiting for one of them to explain further but when none of them did she frowned and looked at him again.
"Daddy?" she asked uncertainly, as if she was trying the word for the first time.
He waited for the wave of icy panic that would send him running as far away as he could to a bottle of alcohol but it never came. Instead he felt peace and something akin to awe.
In the end, it was easier to smile and open his arms than he had thought it would. Easier and natural.
"Yes." He met Effie's eyes when the child went to hug him. She smiled at him and he thought that, maybe, the future wouldn't be as dire as he had feared. "Yes."
How easy it was to say yes…