Chapter Thirty-Five
The hospital in District Twelve was just a small white blot in the distance but as the hovercraft flew nearer, Haymitch could see with clarity the roof where the hovercraft would be landing and the bustling of activities happening at the entrance of the hospital.
Haymitch was already by the door the moment the hovercraft made the slow descend on to the roof. The pilot did not even have to land the aircraft before Haymitch jumped off from it as it hovered a few inches off the ground.
"Thanks!" he shouted to the pilot before running towards the rooftop's door.
His feet carried him down three flights of stairs when he stopped, clutching to the metal handrail to catch his breath. It had been a while since he had put such a physical strain on himself and in normal circumstances, he doubted he would be able to continue at the pace he was going but the adrenaline pumping through him and the panic he was feeling spurred him forward.
Guided by his memory, Haymitch found the correct hallway. It was familiar to him and at the waiting room where he and Effie had sat waiting for Katniss when she gave birth to Prim months ago was where he found Peeta.
Haymitch jogged towards him and was about to open his mouth to ask after Effie when the double door swung open. Katniss emerged, moving hurriedly towards her husband. That was when her eyes landed on Haymitch, forcing her to abruptly change her course. She marched towards him, fist clenched at her side and delivered an unexpected slap across his face.
"What the – dammit!" Haymitch exclaimed, rubbing his cheek to alleviate the sting. He knew Katniss was capable of putting much more force into the slap but somehow, she hadn't.
"Effie wanted to kill you," she informed him. "When I saw you, I realized that I wanted the satisfaction of hitting you first. That should be you inside with her, Haymitch. Not me."
"Katniss…" Peeta started, standing to her side but otherwise, not doing much to calm his wife.
Haymitch glared at Peeta who shrugged in return with a tiny smirk on his face.
"Don't get me wrong, Haymitch. I was more than happy to be there with Effie. To help her since you weren't there. But it should have been you welcoming your baby into this world. Every time she heard footsteps walking down the hallway, she asked if it was you. She cried for you and refused to deliver without you, you old fool."
Katniss stopped talking when she realized that Haymitch had been staring at her, looking stunned and distraught.
"I missed it? The entire birth…. I missed everything?" he asked. Haymitch ran his hand over his hairs. Struck by something Katniss had just told him, Haymitch looked up. "No… hold on. What was that you said? Baby? Singular."
She nodded. "One. She gave birth about 6 minutes ago."
The confirmation was all Haymitch needed to hear. Although it was not by any means a form of liberation, Haymitch was still grateful that he had a chance to witness the birth of the second child.
Haymitch breathed in relief. His face broke into a smile, such a rare genuine smile that Katniss and Peeta could only stare at him.
"Thank you, Katniss."
Stepping forward, Haymitch cupped her cheeks and kissed the younger woman's forehead.
"I'm gonna see Effie now."
XxX
The room was quiet when he walked in which in the current given circumstances, he thought was odd. It had slipped his mind to ask Katniss earlier as to why she was outside at the waiting room instead of with Effie if only one child had been delivered.
Haymitch expected screaming. Effie's screaming, to be precise but all he heard was the whirling of machines.
Did I miss this one, too?
Forcing himself not to dwell on that thought, he hurried further into the room and saw Effie at the end of it in one of the beds. She didn't notice him approaching since she had her eyes close. Effie looked pale with her hair matted to her face. Her skin was covered in sheen of sweat.
"Hey," he whispered quietly, looking down at her and brushing the blonde hair back from her face. "Hey, Effs."
Her eyes fluttered open, pale blue looking up at him tiredly.
"Hey, yourself. You're late."
"Was it my fault?" he chuckled, still talking to her softly. "I told you not to do anything stupid while I'm away. But you went into labour and gave birth without me. Seriously, sweetheart, you're making me look bad. Didn't get to keep my words to you."
"I'm going to kill you, you know. But I'll get to that later," she said, her fingers curling around his hand.
Haymitch smiled down at her. He kissed her cheek then, his breath warm against her skin. "I know. Katniss warned me."
"Good," she nodded. "I'm so happy to see you. Took you awhile."
"Yeah, took me more than awhile. Damn hovercraft wouldn't fly any faster. How are you doing, Effie?"
"This one's breeched, Haymitch. And Dr. Bell doesn't think that the baby will move anytime soon."
It didnt't sound good and suddenly, he was worried. Haymitch rested his hand on her belly, rubbing it in soothing circles. "What's going to happen?" he frowned.
"They're going to do a C-section. Get the baby out."
Of course. Dr. Bell had explained this before, except he found it difficult trying to remember information of that kind in his current situation.
"When?"
"Now."
"I'll go with you. I'll be there," he assured her.
Effie shook her head at him. Her hands were suddenly pushing him away. "No."
"Effie, I know you're mad at me. But let me be with you for this one. Don't push me away, sweetheart. Be angry with me later."
She laughed softly at him. "I am angry, yes, but I don't have the energy to put up a fight with you now. I want you to be there with me, Haymitch but there's no point in you staying with me."
"I'm sure that's bullshit, sweetheart," he replied, his thumb rubbing smoothly over her cheekbones. "Let me be with you."
Effie shook her head adamantly.
"Alright, fine," he sighed. "I'll wait outside, then."
"No," she clutched his hand. "Go be with him at the nursery. Go and see him, Haymitch. Don't let him be alone."
His heart started racing. Haymitch was so focused on Effie, it had not occurred to him to ask after his child. He didn't even ask for the gender until Effie brought it up now.
"Him?" he frowned, looking at her intently. "Did you say him?"
"Him," Effie nodded with a smile. "It's a boy. You have a son. I've named that one. You have to wait your turn with the second one, okay?"
"Okay," he answered simply, nodding his head at her. Haymitch kissed her forehead then. "Okay."
'Okay' was all he could manage at the moment. Haymitch wanted to say more, to express his thoughts but there was a lump in his throat which felt like it had narrowed within the last ten seconds, constricting his airways and making conversation difficult. Haymitch drew a shaky breath and swallowed hard, blinking his eyes rapidly in an effort to regain his vision that had suddenly blurred slightly.
Effie stroked his cheek, pulling him closer to her so that his forehead was resting against hers. "Oh, Haymitch," Effie whispered, running her fingers through his hair. "Don't cry. Everything's alright. Please, Haymitch, be strong for me. I've never seen you like this. I – I don't know what to say."
"No, I'm not crying," he chuckled. "Oh damn, Effs. You don't have to say anythin'. Nothing. I – I just… It's been a hell of a day. And now… now you're telling me…. a son, eh?"
Effie smiled, her hand stroking the back of his hair comfortingly as he buried his face on the crook of her neck. At the back of his mind, Haymitch knew he should probably pulled himself together but for all those months that Effie was pregnant, while she had hoped for a girl, Haymitch did not have that much of a preference and knowing for certain that it was a boy made his heart felt things so foreign he couldn't quite name it.
"I can't believe I missed his birth. It makes me feel …"
"Rotten?" she supplied, cheekily. "But you're here now, Haymitch. That's all that matters. One day, when he is old enough to understand, we'll tell how you rushed your way to the hospital."
"And how you threatened to kill me," he teased.
"Yes, that too."
XxX
Haymitch stayed by her side until Dr. Bell entered the room what seemed like scant seconds later.
"Congratulations, Mr. Abernathy."
"Thank you," he inclined his head. "Is the boy healthy?"
"Yes. A little small for his size but nothing to worry about."
"And this one?"
"This one's a bit stubborn. He's not moving his head down and we've already broke Effie's water so he has to be delivered through surgery."
"Don't worry so much, Haymitch. I'm in good hands," Effie squeezed his hand in reassurance.
"How could I not?" he muttered. "Take care of her for me, will you, doctor?"
"I'll be fine," Effie laughed quietly. "Go and visit your son, Haymitch. It's long overdue."
"You sure you don't want me to stay?" he asked just to be certain.
"I'm sure."
For a split second, Haymitch hovered by her bed, unsure of what he should do. He considered the option of staying by her side at the surgery room despite Effie's wishes. But a part of him wanted to meet his boy.
Stooping down, Haymitch kissed her; the salty taste of perspiration dotting her upper lips permeated his tongue. The kissed was gentle and slow; one that wished for her safety and sought for her forgiveness for his tardiness. "Come back to us safe. We'll be waiting."
When he pulled back, Effie was smiling at him. He held her gaze, storing the image of her into his memory as he watched the nurses wheeled her bed into the operating theatre. And it was right then, just before Effie disappeared from view that he remembered to ask an important question.
"Effie! Sweetheart, what's his name?"
She lifted her head up slightly at the sound of his voice and the attendant stopped wheeling her bed, allowing Effie to answer his question.
"Tristan. His name is Tristan."
Tristan, he said out loud as he walked out, testing the word on his tongue. Tristan Abernathy. Well… alright. At least it isn't something outrageous.
It never dawned on him that he had kissed his wife more times within the space of five minutes in that delivery room than he had in their entire marriage.
XxX
Haymitch navigated the hallway with Peeta and Katniss, both of whom had decided to walk with him to the nursery before heading home to their daughter.
The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit was not difficult to find and soon enough, Haymitch found himself standing in front of the door that lead to the NICU. He stopped walking causing Peeta to collide into his back.
"What's wrong?" Katniss frowned.
"I think…. I think I should go back to the operating theatre. Wait for Effie there," Haymitch muttered in reply.
He took a step back but Peeta had a grip on his hand. The firm touch forced Haymitch to look into the young man's eyes.
"She told you to be here with your son."
"I know. But this one's fine, isn't he? There are nurses in there looking after him. Effie's alone, though."
"This little man needs his father," Peeta spoke. "Effie will be fine."
"No, no. She might have told me she'd be fine but it's better… better if I'm there," Haymitch said distractedly.
Feeling that there was more to this than just Haymitch needing to be with Effie, Peeta exchanged a glance with Katniss.
"Oh, stop this, Haymitch!" Katniss snapped. "He's a baby. A child."
Haymitch glowered. "I know that," he snapped. "Which is why… Look, Katniss, when Prim was born, didn't you feel the same?"
"Yes. It's a normal feeling. Peeta felt it, too."
"I did. I still feel terrified. I don't think it will completely leave you. You're always going to think of all the things that could go wrong and the mistakes you'd make where your child is concern but you have to realise that you're the only person that could protect and nurture that child. You're going to be alright, old man. The nurses would be there if anything. Effie is depending on you to be with him. Don't let her down a second time."
"Is that him?" Katniss squinted, pointing to the infant in an incubator. She pressed herself closer to the glass window of the nursery at the NICU. "Looks like Abernathy on the card. Can you see the card, Peeta?"
Peeta gave him a reassuring smile and Haymitch nodded. Together, they moved to join Katniss by the window. His eyes were fixed on the spot where Katniss had pointed.
"You should go in."
XxX
Most of the infants he saw as he walked across the room were in an incubator and he assumed they were born premature, too. He followed the nurse quietly until they came to a stop at the exact place where Katniss had pointed. Trust her hunter eyesight to have sharp vision.
There was a form of identification at the front of the incubator and he saw what Katniss saw earlier, confirming that that was indeed his son.
When he finally peered inside the incubator, he didn't see his son. He saw first all the tubes attached to the small, little thing at the centre of it.
"He's a healthy little boy," the nurse informed him, having sense his worry. Gesturing to the contraption covering his son's nose, the nurse began to explain. "He can breathe on his own but he still needs help getting oxygen into his lungs. That's a C-PAP."
"A C – sorry?"
"It's an airway pressure that will help him breathe. Depending on his progress, we can take it off in two to three days' time. Here… If you want to touch him, just put your hand through this," she started to demonstrate, extending her hand through the circular openings of the incubator.
"And those machines? What are they for?" he asked, hands still firmly by his sides.
"It's to monitor his heart and respiratory rate and also his blood pressure."
"He would live?"
"I have no doubt that he will," the nurse smiled kindly at the worried father. "He just needs a little help along the way at the moment. We just need to keep him here for a while to monitor his progress until he is fit to be discharged home."
"When will that be?"
"I'm in no position to say exactly. But Dr. Bell did inform me that he is doing well for a 34 weeks. Maybe in a week, hopefully."
XxX
While the nurse was talking to him, he had wanted nothing more than to be left alone but now that he was alone with his child, he wished for the nurse to come back. He felt safer having her around in case anything went wrong.
Nothing's going to go wrong, he chastised himself.
For a long while, all he did was to stare at the child, taking in the pale blond hair sticking messily all over his head and the slightly wrinkled skin around his hands that most new born seemed to have.
Effie's hair, he noted. Because it if was anything like his, it would be darker. A point to you, sweetheart.
There was a strong sense of amazement surrounding him. He was looking down at the very life Effie had been carrying inside her. It felt incredibly surreal. Haymitch could touch him if he wanted; feel his skin, feel the boy move in response to his touch and for real this time round, too. Not just feel the baby kick through Effie's belly.
Taking a deep breath, Haymitch slipped his hands inside the opening of the incubator. He stroked the child's head, feeling the soft tuft of hair under his palm. A lone finger trailed the skin on the boy's thigh, smooth and unmarred unlike the skin on his parent's body.
If you ever have a scar, it's because you fell from a tree or you scraped your knee. And your scar will not bear tales of horror.
Haymitch rubbed his thumb over his cheek and touched the tiny hand. It took him by surprise when his son uncurled his fist at the feel of his touch.
Effie must have done it when they presented the baby to her after she gave birth but Haymitch repeated it for his own peace of mind. Muttering quietly to himself, Haymitch began to count the number of fingers and toes.
Ten.
"Hello, Tristan," he croaked, his voice was soft but thick with emotions he could not place. "Just you and me for now. Your mother will be here soon, I promise. And we'll get to see your brother… or sister."
An amused chuckle escaped Haymitch's lips when the boy yawned in response. His eyes remained close, oblivious to the outside world and the pain his mother just went through to bring him into this life.
Haymitch lost track of time as he watched the rise and fall of Tristan's chest. He supposed years of hardship had turned him into a paranoid and a pessimist since he was entertaining a completely irrational thought as he sat next to his son. He was afraid that if he were to look away, even for just a second, Tristan would slip away right under his watch and stop breathing. Just to calm himself, his eyes kept flickering to the machine that monitored his son's respiratory rate.
"What colour are your eyes, peanut?" he asked. It felt silly talking to the infant knowing full well that the boy could never answer him but it was better than talking to him while he was still in his mother's womb where Haymitch couldn't physically see him. "I hope you have her eyes. Your mother's got beautiful eyes. Don't tell her I said that, of course."
A/N: I have edited this chapter no less than three times hoping that i struck the right balance for Haymitch. He's been worried about Effie and he does care about what happened to her so I didn't want to make him so standoff-ish or so indifferent (because he's not. he just haven't truly realise that, yet) but I also don't want him to be so sappy. :/
Anyway, that's one gender down, and one name down, too :) why did she named him that? hmmm. Reviews!
Oh, an announcement - i'm going on a short vacation next weekend so I can't promise if there will be an update next week. Also, the gifset for Chapter 7 of Consortium is on my tumblr, if you're curious?