Prompt : I read the discussion here about adoption and I agree with you. Because I'm a stalker I also read the discussion about Hayffie using protection. I would love to read something where she thinks she's pregnant but it's a false alarm. But she already tells Haymitch about her worries. Because I can imagine Effie to forget to take the pill when he ends up in her bed and won't get up and they are late etc. And condoms can break. ;) And she can be late with all the stress she has. So that's a prompt.

AND

Prompt : Hey, I read today's story and I totally loved it and agree on everything you wrote. And yet I would prompt something related to it and maybe you'll do it one day: Effie and Haymitch casually sleeping together and Effie's falling for him and then she thinks she's pregnant because she's late. And I think she'd tell him about the chance and maybe they could even take the test together because I think Haymitch wouldn't let her down. But that's up to you. Pleaseee :)

And that will be the last prompt of the week. Tomorrow is Invictus day and don't miss my new chaptered story on Sunday (yeah, I know I sound like a commercial) entitled (after many debates) Memory Lane.

False Alarm

Effie was acting odd.

He had tried not to pay too much attention to it because he knew just how stressful the whole Victory Tour thing was – it was for him and he wasn't expected to account for every little misshap of their trip. There was a lot of pressure on her shoulders and he had thought she needed space so he had left her alone ever since the train had slithered away from Two. But they had reached the Capitol two days earlier and he was now very certain she was avoiding him.

He knew Victory Tour wasn't over and wouldn't be until they were all back in their own homes, after the final feast in Twelve – and even then, there was no guarantee the farce would end there – but in the Capitol, they had breathing room. There was no one to convince there, no angry people ready to riot at the kids' command, no danger of District people deciding their freedom was more important than common sense and storming on the train… He was all for freeing the Districts, but he also thought having a plan was the way to go in any circumstance. The way the Districts were behaving… It was more frightening than inspiring.

Haymitch wasn't a patient man by nature but he knew how to bid his time so he waited until the kids' engagement party and acted only once they were all back in the penthouse, so late dawn was already rising in the horizon. Effie stuck around long enough to see the kids stumble to their rooms like zombies – they weren't used to the Capitol partying style – and then disappeared in her own bedroom. Haymitch waited until Peeta had sneaked into Katniss' to walk into their escort's.

He didn't knock, he simply stepped in. She had already shut the blinds and was sitting at her dressing table, her jewelry was gone and she was taking pin after pin out of her silver wig. She barely glanced at him. "Not tonight. I am tired, Haymitch."

He ignored that and leaned on the wall next to the door, folding his arms over his chest. "You're ever going to tell me what's up, sweetheart, or do I have to guess?"

Her hand froze in mid-air, a pin still pinched between two of her fingers. He could see her face in the mirror and she looked stricken, panicked. It lasted for a second and then it was carefully pushed back behind the smooth mask of the escort. Her face reflected nothing but polite curiosity. "I am afraid I don't know what you mean."

"Drop the act." he growled. "And tell me."

He could see the brief instant of indecision flash in her eyes on the polished glass, then she simply folded her hands in front of her on the dresser table and stared at him in the mirror. At that moment, he knew he wouldn't like whatever she was about to say.

"I'm late." she offered.

"Late to where?" he snorted. "It's six o'clock in the bloody morning. I don't care if you have a breakfast date, you're telling me now. If it has to do with the kids…"

She lowered her eyes. "Not this kind of late."

It was merely a whisper but it stopped his rant. His body understood way before his brain did. It was like a punch to the stomach: he felt sick, sick and panicked, he also felt the urge to slid down the wall, sit on the floor and grab his head. It was only when his body was done screaming his distress that he realized what she meant.

"How late?" The words escaped him without his notice, he was amazed to sound so calm.

"A week." she answered, still whispering. He didn't know if it was because she didn't want to admit it out loud or because she was afraid someone might hear. Haymitch didn't even care at that point. "I am never fairly regular and there is the stress factor to take under consideration." she continued. "But we have been having regular sex for a month, a week is concerning."

He rubbed a hand over his face so hard it hurt. "And you didn't say anything before because…"

She flinched, clearly detecting the hint of anger in his voice.

"I was waiting. I was hoping…" she shrugged – something she never did. "It might be nothing."

"It might be nothing and it might be a…" he barked but stopped himself at the last possible moment. He couldn't even say it. "A test. Have you done a…"

"No." she cut him off, resuming taking off the pins from her wig. "Not yet."

He laughed. It was from nerves, purely from nerves, and his laughter was frayed and harsh.

"You think you're pregnant and you don't do a fucking test?" he shouted. "For the love of God, Effie!"

"Lower your voice, you will alarm the children." she snapped, finally succeeding in taking off her wig. She shook her crumpled blond hair, it framed her head like a golden halo. He loved her hair, he mused distractedly. "I bought one this morning. It was tricky, I didn't want anyone recognizing me. It would hit the headlines like…"

"Effie." he cut her off. "I don't fucking care if Caesar makes a special about you being knocked up or not. Do the test."

Because he needed to know. He needed to know.

She turned the stool around and stared at him hard, her mouth pursed in a displeased line.

"I am surprised you have not asked me if I am sure it is yours yet." she shot back.

"I will ask when we know there's something to discuss for sure." he retorted. "Do the fucking test so I'm not freaking out over nothing."

She didn't move. "If there is something…"

"If there is something and it's mine, you know what I want." he snarled. "Why are we even talking about it?"

She didn't flinch this time but he thought she had been prepared for the verbal attack.

"Maybe it is not yours, then." she murmured.

"But we both know it is, don't we?" he sneered.

Her shoulders slacked in a way that was both unladylike and un-Effie. She looked so vulnerable that, for a second, he was tempted to hug her. For a second only. He was too busy having his own private session of feeling vulnerable.

Effie being pregnant would be a disaster on so many levels… He would never have been able to handle it in normal circumstances and circumstances were far from being normal at the moment. His head was spinning with thoughts of the kids, of the rebellion in planning and everything else. He couldn't bear Effie being pregnant in addition to all that. He couldn't.

"You would want me to get an abortion." she asked for clarification sake. "If I am…"

"I am not having a baby. I hate babies. I don't want a baby." he spat. "We're not having one." The thought alone was laughable so that was just what he did : laugh again, all bitter and edgy. "That kid would be screwed even before it's born. You as a mother and me as a father… Getting rid of it would be a mercy."

She turned her head as if he had slapped her. "I see."

She didn't. She so obviously didn't.

"You keep it, you're on your own." he warned her but then he thought better of it. She might take it as a challenge and she could never resist a challenge coming from him. "You can't keep it. They will come after you. Both of you. They will use you against me. I don't want the liability."

"So now we are a liability?" she snapped back.

He was almost relieved to see her getting angry. An angry Effie, he knew how to deal with. Apathetic Effie… Not so much.

"There's no we." he growled. "Don't we me."

Any child of his was bound to die sooner rather than later. And there was the practicality of it to consider. He was a District man, she was a Capitol woman, how would that even work? He didn't know of a single person who had mixed parents like that. He wasn't even sure it wasn't forbidden by law or something.

"You are so cold inside." she sneered. "We are discussing our baby and…"

"We are discussing a clutter of cells." he scoffed. "And we don't even know we're discussing that for sure because you haven't done the fucking test yet! So how about you do it and then we can be at each other's throat if there's really something to fight over?"

She huffed but stood up, walked to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. He pretended really hard he didn't hear her muffled sobs. She took her sweet time in there, which was probably a good thing because it gave him enough time to calm down. Anger deserted him slowly, leaving him with nothing but an acute feeling of dread and a throbbing urge to find a bottle. He didn't go after alcohol, not just yet, he would when he would know precisely where they were standing. Instead, he sat on the bed.

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, she was wearing a silky nightgown under an open dressing gown and she handed him a plastic stick.

"We have to wait five minutes." she informed him coolly. "If a plus appears, I am pregnant. If it is a minus, we are in the clear."

"How precise are those things?" he asked.

"Precise enough." she replied, sitting next to him on the bed. "Ninety percent, I would say. A blood test would tell us for sure."

"You're having one tomorrow." he decided. Ninety percent wasn't good enough for him.

She glared but it was meek. She stared at the stick in his hand, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Would it truly be so terrible for you?" she asked softly. "If I were to be the mother of your child?"

Trust Effie Trinket to bring everything back to herself.

"It has nothing to do with you." he grumbled. "I don't want a kid, period. You know that. You know what they would do with my kid. That's what you want? For our kid to be a pressure point all his life?"

"No." she admitted, leaning her head on his shoulder. "No, you are right of course." He pretended he couldn't hear the wistful longing in her voice when she spoke next. "But I love it when you say 'our kid', it is almost as if I mean something to you."

"You mean something to me, sweetheart." he mumbled. "You know you do. Stop fishing." He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "But that can't happen. I'm sorry if you want it but we can't let it happen. It wouldn't be fair to any of us."

"I know." she breathed out. "That is why I was so reluctant to do the test, I knew how it would end. I am actually impressed you didn't run away yet."

He had thought about it, the flight response had been instinctive but…

"I will go with you." he offered. "If it's positive and… I will go with you."

It would probably kill him but he suspected it would be nothing compared to what it would do to her. And somewhere deep inside, he was still the man his mother had raised him to be. As old-fashioned as it could sound, he believed that if a man got a woman pregnant, the honorable thing to do was marry her or at least provide for her and the child. Offering to go with her if she needed to have an abortion seemed a small concession compared to that.

"Thank you." she whispered, burrowing deeper against his side.

He would have sworn it was the longest five minutes of his life. Then the minus sign finally appeared and he breathed a little more easily. Still, there was a hollow feeling in his chest, something that felt like regret and missed opportunities. He buried it deep down.

"False alarm." Effie concluded, attempting to sound cheerful and relieved but failing miserably. He wondered if she felt the same way he did : wishing for a different life in which they wouldn't have to be afraid of a plus sign.

"Yeah." He forced himself to shoot her a smirk. "False alarm."