Chapter Two
The tall figure sauntered into the office without a knock and stopped short, taking in the scene before him.
"Oh good God, it's you, again," Haymitch grumbled in annoyance when his eyes landed on Effie Trinket sitting primly on one of the chairs.
"Now, Haymitch, there is no need to antagonize her," Plutarch said, beckoning for him to take a seat. "I have called for both of your presence here because I have a proposition to make. Rest assured, I have run it by Katniss and Peeta first, both of whom agreed that this is one of the best options for you."
Haymitch raised an eyebrow quizzically, not understanding a word Plutarch was saying. He poured himself a drink before easing himself into the uncomfortable chair across Plutarch's desk. Next to him, Effie sat up straighter. She crossed her legs and folded her hands neatly on her knees. As was his habit, out of the corner of his eyes, Haymitch discreetly admire the long and slender legs of the woman whose sole purpose in life, he was sure, was to annoy the living daylight out of him.
"What options?" Haymitch murmured, watching Plutarch from the rim of his whiskey glass.
"As you are probably aware by now, the bill to boost the population of Panem after the destructive effects of the war a few years ago has been passed into law. It has come into effect. The law requires that – "
Haymitch choked and sputtered on his drink. Plutarch shot him a disgruntled look and threw a napkin on the oak table, making a big show of wiping it clean.
"Excuse me? We're talking about Population White Paper?" Haymitch thundered. "I thought they were still debating the merits of that law!"
"The bill was passed three days ago. Where have you been?" Effie pursed her lips in annoyance.
He glanced at her sideways. "Passed out drunk, most likely," he answered nonchalantly.
"Now as I was saying before I was interrupted," Plutarch gave Haymitch a pointed look, "the law requires all eligible single male and female of child bearing age - between the ages of 18 to 50 years old - who are also physically able to produce offspring to enter into a marriage. The purpose, as you know, is to bear children in the hopes of repopulating the country; which means you and you, unfortunately."
"This is fucking barbaric. We didn't fight the war for this, Plutarch. I didn't rebel against a tyrant for a society that demands its citizens to procreate like machines!"
Haymitch slammed his hands on the table in a fit of anger. Effie flinched and shifted her chair away from him.
Plutarch eyed Haymitch coolly before he sighed in exhaustion.
"You were there the day the bombs went off in the City Circle, Haymitch. Countless children died on that day. The numbers were staggering. Let's not take into account the number of children sent off to the arena before the –
"Whose fault was that?" Haymitch muttered under his breath.
"- Rebellion. The statistics department was forced to calculate and report the forecast of Panem's population in five, ten, twenty years from now. The fact remains that there are not enough children right now to replace us. The government has been encouraging married couples to have more children, for people to get married and settle down now that there's peace but it is simply not working. They're taking drastic measures. It is now mandatory to get married and contribute to the population growth."
"What if … What if we don't get married? What if we run away or…"Effie trailed off, glancing at Haymitch helplessly.
"Where to? Where do you want to hide?" Plutarch questioned.
Haymitch stood up and started pacing the room. Eventually, he came to a stop by the window and perched on the window sill, arms folded across his chest.
"What I want to know is what will happen if I absolutely refuse to go through with this debacle?" Haymitch tapped his fingers on his arm.
"You will be stripped off your citizenship and sent off the borders of Panem," Plutarch answered. He looked at Haymitch with a serious expression, imploring him to think things through.
Effie gasped loudly, her eyes wide with horror. "They can't… No, they can't do that. Nobody knows what lies beyond the borders."
"Plutarch, listen to me," Haymitch said. "I was a victor, I was a rebel. I helped free this country, dammit! Does that not stand for anything?"
"No," Plutarch shook his head. "There are no special treatments. Everyone is subjected to this law. Even me. No exceptions."
"You? Who are you marrying?"
"Fulvia Cardew"
Haymitch began to chuckle, shoulders heaving with laughter. "Fulvia? That Fulvia who is always with you? Your assistant?"
Effie slapped his arm and shot him a warning look.
"Okay, I shouldn't laugh," Haymitch held up his hand. "Alright, it's rude."
He stuffed his fist inside his mouth to stop himself but he couldn't help it. The stress of the situation had finally set in and the only reaction he had left after the raging disbelief was to laugh at Plutarch's soon to be bride.
"Fulvia Heavensbee," he said with quiet mirth. "Does have a nice ring to it, don't you think, Effie?"
"Yes, so does Haymitch Trinket," Plutarch fired back. "When you're both married, you should really consider taking Effie's name."
That shut him up effectively and then he exploded. "WHAT? I'm not marrying her! Are you insane?"
"The law was passed three days ago, I don't see you with a list of women asking for your hand," Plutarch replied.
Turning towards Effie and in an attempt to deflect the attention away, Haymitch asked with a smirk on his face, "what's the matter, Trinket? No prospects, too?"
"Oh, I have several, Haymitch," she answered calmly. "It would seem that I have a far better reputation than you do which is why –"
"That's quite enough. The reason I called the both of you here today is because I think you should marry each other," Plutarch told them bluntly.
"You're joking?"
"Surely you can't be serious about this?"
"I am being absolutely serious," Plutarch frowned and addressed Effie. "Those men that petition for your hand, they are Capitol sympathizers. You know what that means, don't you?"
Haymitch had a feeling that there was more going on than he was privy to. He looked at them curiously.
"I fear that your safety will be compromised if you were to marry one of them. Your role in the Rebellion, I'm afraid, would put you in jeopardy. Sure, I doubt they would kill you for what you've done but they would be capable of something far worse. And Haymitch, if you cannot find a suitable woman to marry within the next three months, you will be assigned someone to marry from the pool of people in the same situation as you are."
Haymitch's head shot up in alarm, looking at Plutarch in silent mortification. Next to him, Effie had paled considerably – the picture of death warm over.
"I thought it would be better for the both of you to be with someone you know. I'm trying to help you. Wouldn't it be preferable to be with someone you've known for years than a complete stranger? I am fully aware, of course, that you've never really gotten along but you have worked together for many years and when the time calls for it, the both of you did a damn fine job during the Rebellion. To put it rather simply, you are each other's best option."
Haymitch sat bolt upright, the sheets pooling around his lap. He had been having the same dream - a memory of the conversation in Plutarch's office – for days now. The dream had always ended the way it did with Plutarch trying to convince them. The rest of the memory was a blur to him. Haymitch had been too shell-shock to remember much else.
Effie had called him a few days later. She wanted to know if he had given what Plutarch suggested any thoughts and if he had found anyone he would like to marry yet. He had not and he told her as much. Effie admitted, albeit reluctantly, that Plutarch had been right – she would rather marry him than those men she hardly knew.
Haymitch chuckled bitterly at that. "So I'm the lesser of two evils, eh?" he slurred, gulping down more whiskey.
"Yes, to put it rather simply, you are."
"Look at that, Effie Trinket asking for my hand," he gave a drunken laugh. "I ought to pop the champagne."
"I – I have to give an answer to those men by next week or it would be taken that I've rejected their proposal. I may not get any other proposal, Haymitch, so I'd rather not say no to them only to find myself being assigned a husband," Effie exhaled slowly. "I hope I can hear from you soon."
"You know any of those men? They're your acquaintances?" he had inquired.
"Yes. One of them was a former Gamemaker, a friend of Seneca Crane. The other was a bonds salesman before the Rebellion and a sponsor to one of the Career districts. The last man, he… he owns a textile company before Snow fell and somehow, managed to retain his company even now. He's known to … He enjoys the company of various women and men. That's all I know about them."
It took him a few days - days he spent in a haze of alcohol induced stupor - but he called her nonetheless. He was drunk out of his mind when he picked up the phone, driven by an unexplainable need to save Effie from some terrible fate as Plutarch had implied and himself from being shackled to a some stranger.
"Fine, I'll marry you."
He had passed out right after that and now, it was a brand new day. He had just woken up as a married man next to Effie Trinket.
XxX
Turning his head to the right, Haymitch was greeted by the sight of Effie sleeping so close to the edge of the bed it was a surprise she had not fallen off. Effie was curled in a fetal position with her back to him, blonde hair covering her face. During the course of the night, he had apparently taken all the covers and left her with none. As Haymitch slid out of bed, he draped the covers over her small, trembling frame and disappeared into the bathroom.
He had woken up fully clothed and Effie was dressed in her nightwear which meant that they had not consummated their marriage. He breathed out in relief. Somehow he doubted that Effie would have been too thrilled if he was drunk while they consummate their marriage. Haymitch made a mental note to check with Plutarch if they would still be stripped off their citizenship if they failed to do it at all. He was certain that they were required to consummate it at some point since the entire purpose of this law was to have produce children and children do not just magically appear.
Oh, shit, he hung his head in disbelief as a horrified thought crossed his mind, children… a kid… I got to have a kid with Effie.
Haymitch stared at his own reflection in stunned silence. All these while, he had been preoccupied with the prospect of being married and now that the marriage ceremony was well over and done with, he had to face another very real problem.
When he exited the bathroom, Effie was already awake. There was a long awkward silence which neither of them knew how to end. For once, he had no snide remarks to throw her away and Effie, it seemed, had nothing to offer to break the quiet.
Haymitch dabbed his face with a clean towel and began to get dressed. Effie went about the room, packing their belongings into a luggage.
"Oh… Is this yours?"
Effie held up a long silver chain she found at the nightstand. She inspected it curiously, noting that the pendant hanging at the end of the chain was handmade; a thin scrap of metal with sloppy engravings on it, something that had been done in a hurry. She brought it closer to make the letterings out. H & M.
"Yes, it's mine," he crossed the room and snatched the chain from her. Haymitch put it around his neck and tucked it underneath his shirt.
"Who is M?"
"My girl," he answered. "Myra."
"You still kept it after all these years?"
She had not meant to say it out loud. Effie was genuinely surprised that he had kept something so inconspicuous for so long.
"She gave it to me when she came to say goodbye," he informed her. "It was the last thing she ever gave to me."
"I see," she said.
Effie zipped up their luggage without another word. She purposely avoided his gaze.
"I'll be at the lobby," he told her gruffly. "Don't take too much time in front of the mirror. You're only going to Twelve, there's no need to dress up."
Haymitch grabbed the heaviest of the luggage and carried it out of their hotel room without waiting for Effie.
XxX
Katniss and Peeta joined him for breakfast at the hotel's restaurant. They were surprised to find him alone without Effie who walked in half an hour later, pulling the luggage behind her.
The kids had been fortunate enough to be married before the law came into effect. He did not want to imagine the nightmare they would be in if they were still single. He had no doubt that they would marry each other still, law or no law, but the proposals coming in from across the country asking for a hand in marriage for the two war heroes would be unimaginable.
When Effie took a seat next to him, he noticed that her eyes were red and it was not lost on Katniss or Peeta either because they fussed over her, giving Effie their undivided attention all the way to the train station. They asked silly questions about her wedding dress, what she planned to do with her apartment at the Capitol now that she was moving in with Haymitch and Peeta even talked about one of her aunt who had chatted with him at the wedding.
"Well I thought she was lovely, perhaps a little lonely but lovely, nonetheless," Peeta smiled.
When they finally reached District Twelve, it was already dark. The stars littered the skies above and a bright crescent mood shadowed them as they made their way home. Nearly everyone who had survived the bombing of District Twelve had retreated back to their houses which they had rebuilt painstakingly after the war ended. Katniss and Peeta bade them goodnight, leaving the pair alone. Haymitch led his wife home.
"Well," Haymitch opened the door and stepped back, allowing Effie in, "welcome to your new home, I suppose."
Effie was no stranger. She had been to his house on several occasions to extract him and make sure that he was presentable enough for each reaping but she still stood awkwardly in the middle of the hallway.
"My room is on the upper floor second door to the right, sweetheart, or have you forgotten?" his lip curled into a smile. "And I can assure you that it's clean. Peeta made sure I cleaned it."
"I remember," she nodded, giving him a small smile.
"You know where the rooms are, do what you need to do," he told her, nudging her forward.
Haymitch watched her as she climbed the stairs and disappeared round the corner. He slunk into the kitchen to retrieve his trusted companion from the shelf. That night, he drank himself to sleep on the sofa in the living room.
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. I know some of you asked for smut which is quite obviously missing in this chapter but, they still need to consummate their marriage, so don't fret ;)
I hope I've managed to explain some of your questions with this chapter. Population White Paper is a very, very real thing where I lived ( & the cause of many hot debates and protests). The government is in desperate need to boost our population but thankfully, they didn't force people to get married. Reviews are lovely, so please leave me some :)