Chapter 4: Be, and it is!

As it turned out, there was nothing magical about it.

There were no forms taking shape once he typed in the last 't' in Trinket, no woman materialising in the space in front of him. Since he was not expecting something out-worldly like that, there was no disappointment to be had.

Still, he expected something.

Haymitch resigned himself to wait and he waited for days.

He supposed if Euphemia Trinket were to make an appearance, it would be the way Katniss and Peeta did, out of the blue and without much fuss.

He began to look for signs of new neighbours or anyone who moved into this town for that matter. There was more time spent outside his house feeding his geese, fixing their pen and on one afternoon, he even resorted to weeding out his garden.

Haymitch wandered out of the village on random mornings and nights peeling his eyes out for anything unusual. He even made frequent trips to the town market to pick up on any talks or gossips of someone new.

This went on for a week or so that even Katniss, as obtuse as she could be, started to notice. When asked, he waved her off.

As he slouched on the sofa, on a dreary afternoon, watching Katniss and Peeta sitting cross-legged in front of his coffee table writing recipes for Peeta's book, it jolted him the fact that these two kids were spending more and more of their time with him. They treated his home like theirs and he was, likewise, welcomed to theirs at any time.

He wasn't sure when or how this familiarity began but it scare him. He knew they were not real and it terrified him even more if they found out the truth about themselves.

They're real, a small voice argued.

They were right there in front of him. He could have a conversation with them and touch them. He could argue with Katniss. He had carried little Finn in his arms and he had eaten the oysters that Annie had given him, only to spent the next few hours in the bathroom with an upset stomach.

Reality is often what an individual perceived it to be and this could be his. It could be, he thought. He had been alone long enough. He deserved to have this even if they used to be just his characters but they were so much more now. He was slowly, and without realising it, letting them become a fabric in his life.

Maybe, to a reasonable sane man, he was losing his mind but he felt ... better than he had in a long while.

It made his head ache just thinking about it so he forced himself not to dwell too much on it. He was good at that – forcing issues to the back of his mind with a drink in hand.

It seemed to work well, too. For the next three days, not once had the thought of Katniss and Peeta as being not real entered his mind.

XxX

Haymitch glanced up at the sound of footsteps approaching. He picked the last of the egg from the pen and stood up just as Katniss stood in front of him with three squirrels in her hand. She tossed one to him.

"How's your hand? Steady enough to skin?"

He glared at her.

The town was running late on their shipment of liquor and he had been staving off the shakes by distilling his own potatoes, which was not going fast enough so there were days without alcohol. Peeta thought it was a good time to cut down but he shrugged the boy off.

"Can't you get your boy to help?"

Katniss clearly did not like Peeta being referred to that way because she shot him a look. Haymitch chuckled. It was easy to tease Katniss sometimes.

"He's really serious 'bout the bakery, huh?" Haymitch asked after Katniss informed him that Peeta was at the kitchen coming up with a menu.

"He is," she nodded. "He's in talks about leasing the space at the town market across from Finnick. He tells me that Miss Trinket will be coming down in two days to go over the contract."

His knife ripped through the squirrel and blood spattered on Katniss' arm. She clicked her tongue in annoyance as she inspected the skewered meat.

"Seriously, Haymitch," she frowned. "I was going to sell that one."

"Who?"

"How would I know who's going to buy it till I go down," Katniss muttered. "Probably someone down at the Hob."

"You said someone's coming… About Peeta's bakery."

"Miss Trinket?" Katniss looked at him. "She's the property agent. She was the one who got us the house so Peeta went back to her about leasing a space."

"Yeah, Trinket… What's her name? She must have a name… or a business card. You have her card, kid?"

His questions made her stop whatever it was she was doing with the squirrel to focus her attention on him.

"Why are you so interested?" she asked. "Are you planning on selling your house? Where will you go?"

"Don't answer my question with questions of your own," Haymitch grumbled. "Tell me her name."

"She calls herself Effie Trinket. To be honest, I didn't really trust her when I first met her. She's a bit… She's not like you and me, but she's okay, I guess. Peeta invited her for dinner a couple of times before we moved in and out of all things, she commented about our good table manners."

Manners…. Haymitch wanted to laugh. He had written a line about her having immaculate manners and it seemed, that single description had manifested itself well into her being.

That thought came to a screeching halt as another bigger, more important thought burst through the forefront of his mind.

She existed.

"Effie…" Effie… Euphemia.

He wrote her and now she was somewhere out there in the world….

And she's coming.

The 'Miss Trinket' Katniss was talking about had to be her. It was no coincidence. Except… While he did write her as being interested in architecture, after the blonde woman standing in front of a building, being a property agent seemed to be going a bit off the tracks.

What about modelling?

These questions only made him more excited and eager, because while he might have given his character a background to exist upon, the way they were spinning and crafting their own tales made him curious.

XxX

Two days seemed to stretch, and for once in his life, he began to pay careful attention to the setting of the moon and rising of the sun.

It made him restless having to wait for her arrival so he went back to his study in an attempt to work on his novel. He was staring at the piece of paper and it had been hours now but so far, there was only one paragraph.

Haymitch flipped through a folder. In a novel that was published years ago, he had written about the Dark Days in the fictional world of Panem. It told the story of a band of ragtag rebels who believed wholeheartedly in their cause set during a time of a massive plague. It was a story his father once weaved during bedtime, one that incurred his mother's wrath because it was too dark a tale for children.

But he had loved it, and that had garnered his interest in the art of storytelling.

There were so many ways his father's story could go so during his teenage years and well into his adult years, he began to write the story his father never managed to finish.

Haymitch's story ended with the collapse of the first rebellion.

Ironically, it was also his collapse.

He lost his family in an explosion from the mine and the fire had spread to their home. Peeta's story about losing his family was his story. Peeta's guilt about not being able to save his family was Haymitch's guilt. He had tried to separate his life from his characters but there were some things that bled from his subconscious into paper.

The loss of his family marked the loss of his inspiration, too. He had tried to get back on his feet in between sober moments by writing stand-alone pieces of heroes from the first rebellion. They had hit the shelves but it was a pitiful attempt and was never as good as the novel itself.

The sequel had been in plans for a few years now. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were meant to be in it but until now, he still could not quite get the plot to crystallise.

Everything he needed was in his head; pieces of scenarios here and there. All he needed to do was to write them out.

With a frustrated sigh, Haymitch tore the paper away from the typewriter. Crumpling it in his hand, he tossed it behind him and out of the window.

"How lazy of him to just throw his trash out of the window!" a high pitch voice commented. "There should be a rule about littering."

"It's his own yard," Peeta chuckled. "He can do as he pleased and that includes throwing things all over."

"It is unpleasant to the eyes," the woman's voice rose once more. "I am not sure that I will like him. In fact, I am rather wary of seeing the inside of his house."

Katniss' amused laughter reached him at his study and just seconds later, there was a knock on his door.

Without seeing her, Haymitch deduced that the foreign voice must belong to Euphemia Trinket. Of course, he was not expecting her to make a house visit and he had no idea why the kids were bringing her over.

When he finally made his way downstairs to the front door, the sight of her rooted him to the spot.

He was staring and she was growing ill at ease by it.

"It is rude to stare."

She was beautiful.

When he had written her, he had pictured Marilyn Monroe in his mind's eyes. She was the first person to pop in his head so he had based Effie Trinket on that but Haymitch had also included details that would make Effie Effie. He had written her with freckles which was not present because of her make-up and with a scar from her childhood.

She was taller than he had imagined but that, he supposed, was due to the heels she was wearing.

"I've been told I'm rude and I ain't making an exception for you, sweetheart."

The pleasant smile on her face faltered.

The title is taken from an Arabic phrase – kun (be) faya kun (and it is).

There is a little more backstory here for Haymitch and hayffie finally meeting - so share your thoughts by leaving a review :)