Yay, two updates in a row :)

Chapter Forty-Two

The weight of her head on his chest and the warmth radiating off her as Effie slept curled on his side was oddly reassuring to him. It reminded him that this was real but he was still afraid to close his eyes only to slip back into those nightmares. He had just brought the boys home. He was not prepared to watch them die in his sleep. His silver grey eyes gleamed in the darkness, his sight set on nothing in particular as his hand continued its repetitive movement of stroking her hair. It had a calming effect on him.

Despite his best efforts, he was losing his battle to stay awake, nodding off once in a while only to jerk upright moments before he could fall into a deep sleep. Even in his semi-conscious state, Haymitch still jumped in surprise when he heard the sharp cry of an infant through the audio monitor.

If his heart had not started racing at this sudden outcry, he would have laughed at Effie who, for all of her apparent calmness, had set the volume of the audio monitor to the maximum. She was probably worried that they might not be able to hear the children if it wasn't on maximum. Silly woman,he shook his head.

Effie was already sitting on the bed, the covers pooled around her lap as she blinked up at Haymitch blearily.

"Stay there," he knelt with one leg on the bed. "I'll bring whoever it is who is crying over to you."

The crying grew louder and more urgent, and Haymitch hurried to the nursery to see to the impatient infant. Somehow, he wasn't really surprised to find out that it was Ethan with his face red and mouth wide open as his cries turned into a wail. He picked the child up from his crib but Ethan's sharp nails from his wandering hand scratched Haymitch lightly across his cheek, leaving red marks on it.

"Gotta do something about those nails, Eff," he muttered to himself. "Alright, tiger, I got you. Shush, don't wake your brother up."

Effie held out her hands to him once Haymitch returned to the bedroom. She had pushed the strap of her nightgown down even before Haymitch had returned. He carefully transferred him to Effie.

"Are you hungry, sweet angel?" Effie asked softly, accepting the pillow Haymitch slid under the boy for support as she fed him.

Haymitch hovered at the side of the bed mesmerized by the sight of her nursing Ethan. He had only seen Effie done it once at the hospital under the guidance of the nurse and he had been with Peeta earlier that day when she breastfed the twins. The boy was finally quiet, now that he has gotten what he was crying for.

"Don't hover, Haymitch, come sit next to me. What's wrong with your cheek?" she asked quietly when she saw him rubbing it.

He jerked his chin towards Ethan, climbing over the bed to sit next to Effie and draped his arm across her shoulder. "Boy thinks he is some kind of cat."

Effie had just gotten comfortable, snuggling up to him and leaning her head on his shoulder as Ethan continued to nurse when the audio monitor lighted up again and they heard another cry. Haymitch couldn't help the grunt as he dropped his head on the crook of her shoulder.

"No," he muttered.

Effie chuckled. "Better get to him before he throws a tantrum like this one."

He stood by Tristan's crib, peering down at the infant curiously. Unlike his brother, Tristan's cries were softer, less… demanding which gave Haymitch the impression that he wasn't hungry. He patted the boy awkwardly, hoping that it would soothe him and put him back to sleep. Haymitch had seen Katniss and Peeta do the same to their girl and he had witnessed Annie putting Finn to sleep in the same manner, all to varying degree of success, but success nonetheless.

It proved to be different for him. Tristan continued to cry. For a brief moment, Haymitch was at a loss. Effie was still nursing Ethan which left him to care for Tristan at the moment and Haymitch wasn't sure what he could do to calm the child down but Tristan was crying and he couldn't just stand there without doing anything. He clenched his jaw, determined to overcome this petty problem. Haymitch lifted the infant from his crib and cradled the boy close to his chest.

As with Ethan, Haymitch brought Tristan over to their bedroom. Effie lifted her head up when he entered.

"Still nursing?" he asked, peering to look at Ethan's peaceful face. "You must be real hungry, tiger."

"Tiger?" Effie's eyes glittered in amusement.

"Scratched me across the cheek, didn't he?" he muttered. Haymitch walked in circles around the room, bouncing Tristan in his arms to soothe him. His crying had stopped but Haymitch could tell that the boy was restless, squirming and fidgeting even as he held him.

Do you want your mother?, he wondered.

Haymitch climbed into bed, still patting Tristan comfortingly. This was never the life he thought he would have. He had imagined it, perhaps, a long time ago with Myra but his life had taken such a drastic turn that it became a mere fantasy, something that could happen to any other men but him.

"Ethan's going to be done soon," Effie informed him quietly. "Can you burp him after and I'll take over Tristan?"

Haymitch nodded. He tried his best to keep Tristan quiet in the meantime but at four in the morning, Haymitch was worn out. All those effort he spent trying to stay awake was for naught. While waiting for Effie to finish with Ethan, Haymitch fell asleep on the bed with Tristan draped across his chest. The beating of his father's heart, the steady rise and fall of Haymitch's chest, the warmth and the sense of security lulled the fussy boy to sleep with his small legs dangling at his father's sides. Haymitch's large palm covered the boy's back protectively, holding him in place.

"You're going to spoil him, Haymitch," she whispered, even though he could probably not hear her. Haymitch was fast asleep, his breathing had evened out and he looked at ease. "He won't want to sleep in his crib anymore."

XxX

The summer heat and the presence of two newborns in their lives have kept Effie and Haymitch cooped at home for the past month since they brought the twins back from the hospital. At 6 weeks old, Haymitch could see them growing physically; their cheeks filling out slightly and there was a marked increase in their weight which he felt whenever he had to carry them.

He held a yawning Tristan in his arm as his mother dipped his tiny foot into blue paint and pressed it on a piece of paper. Effie held it up proudly for his inspection.

"There," she smiled, "his footprint at one month old."

"I think you're two weeks too late, sweetheart," he muttered.

Effie went over to the other side of the wall where Haymitch had put up the sonograms when he painted the room and hung it on one of the wooden pegs. She took in the sight of her boys from when they were still in her womb and then to Tristan in Haymitch's arms, and Ethan in his crib.

"Look at them," she breathed in wonderment. Effie, even after all this weeks, was still in awe and a state of disbelief that these are children. Hers.

Haymitch was still grappling with his new role as a father that he had little to no time to marvel much as he struggled to stand upright on his feet and instill some form of control over his life. The past one month had been a horrid blur to him. The sedentary lifestyle he led for years before this was proving to be an obstacle in itself - his sleeping pattern, if ever there was one, had always been erratic but with Tristan and Ethan, there seemed to be no sleep for him at all. Somewhere between the second and third week that they were home, Haymitch gave up trying to figure out what was going on with his life. He trained himself to move on autopilot whenever he heard a cry. They were either hungry or they needed a nappy change. For the umpteenth time, Haymitch wondered if it would be slightly easier if there was only one of them because each time one of them cries, the other twin would, too.

Katniss, whom he thought would understand his situation, took an awful lot of glee at his constant state of confusion.

"Need a mentor, Haymitch?" she snickered. "I'm sure Peeta would be more than happy to give a pointer or two."

The ship would have sunk had it not been for Effie. She captained her boys amazingly well and kept things in order. Effie was definitely coping better than he was - "I had to deal with you for years, Haymitch, you'd think I would be able to at least manage my children and their father" - or perhaps, she just worked well under pressure. The years she spent detailing everything into her schedule proved to be useful and Haymitch had never been so glad, though he kept that sentiment largely to himself. Effie carefully and methodically wrote down the times when she fed the children and the expected time of their next feeding so Haymitch would at least have a general sense of what was expected should they started crying since he could never seem to keep track if it was time to feed them or change their nappies or put them to sleep.

Not that he had ever changed their diapers before.

Despite having been assigned to diaper changing duties for missing out on Tristan's birth, Haymitch was fairly useless when it came to it and had relinquished the job to Effie while he stood at a safe distance to watch.

"You know, if there is a will, there is a way. You can learn how to change these," she lectured him, "you just don't want to get your hands dirty!"

Effie struggled with great difficulties at first, scrunching her nose and muttering to herself as she tried to figure out the proper work those diaper works but Effie proved to be a quick learner, and she had help in the form of Katniss and Peeta who tried their best to teach her all they knew.

XxX

The pressure of having two newborns in his house and the news he received from Plutarch drove Haymitch off the cliff.

Tristan and Ethan turned two months a few days prior. It was a day marked with Ethan vomiting on his shirt when he tried to burp the boy. He held the boy out, looking in distaste at the front of his shirt.

"Take him," Haymitch ordered.

It made Effie giggled which he thought was worth the mess but he wasn't going to tell her that. Not when she was gloating and asking him how it felt to be vomited on.

"I've never vomited on you before," he mumbled, pulling his shirt over his head. "What's your issue?"

"On a number of occasions actually but you were too drunk to remember it."

Haymitch had barely enough time to himself much less to devote it to the law which he had unintentionally cast aside in favour of his family. He could hardly recall saying yes to Plutarch when the man offered to step in his place so the meeting with the Council that was previously adjourned when Effie went into labour could go on. When the call came from Plutarch's office to inform him of the outcome of the second appeal, Haymitch was not prepared for the news.

Suffice to say, Haymitch flew into a rage when he was told that the Council had rejected it yet again.

"What's their fucking reason this time round?"

"Same as previously," Plutarch answered. "The end justifies the means, Haymitch. The birth rates are increasing and any social implications are trivial compared to the population boost. The law's sole objective is being met."

"But at what price?" he demanded angrily.

"Listen, we can appeal again. We can fight. But let's not talk about the law for now, go and be with your children. There'll be time for discussion. I will see you next week for the party."

Haymitch slammed the phone; his breathing was labored and his hands shook. His gaze fell on the papers scattered over the study table, months of careful planning and work, and the Council rejected it. He swept it all away and watched it fluttered to the floor.

He could hear the children's cry on the audio monitor but instead of the nursery, Haymitch stalked towards the opposite direction and stormed down to the cellar. It would be unwise to subject his children to his presence when he was angry. He had seen what anger could do, especially when it could not be controlled. Hadn't he suffered at times at the hands of his own father?

Effie had kept all of his supplies in the cellar. Haymitch grabbed a full bottle of clear liquid, uncorked it and gulped the contents down almost hungrily. The liquid dribbled down his chin, his shirt soaking it up and when he brought the bottle up, Haymitch realized that half of the content was gone. He had not drunk this much since the twins' arrival.

He felt defeated, somehow, a feeling he attributed to the Council's rejection but Haymitch knew that feeling stemmed from something else. While he had never promised to quit and Effie had never asked that of him, he had told her he would cut down on his drinking and he had been doing it, too. To consume half a bottle in less than an hour made him feel that he could never escape this vice and that he was racing back to the bottom.

Haymitch sagged to the floor of the cellar. He had already finished half of it, what was the point in stopping? He kept drinking, his throat burnt with the familiar sensation that he relished. The cellar was quiet and peaceful, so far removed from the commotion going on at the upper floor of the house. He was accustomed to the quiet and stillness, and up till that moment, Haymitch was not aware that he was longing for it. He brought the bottle to his lips, savouring the taste on his tongue.

Time became inconsequential as he lost himself to the alcohol. Vaguely, Haymitch was aware that someone was approaching. He could hear the soft, rapid footsteps making its way steadily towards him. She couldn't see him like this. The urgency roused him enough for him to lift his head up but it was too late. Effie was standing over him with her arms crossed defensively across her chest, her lips were pursed into an angry line and her eyes… they were the worst. The icy blue of her eyes glinted with fury and gleamed with disappointment. Haymitch tried to push himself up but his hand gave way and he ended up sprawled on the floor.

He felt pathetic.

"Sweetheart, I was - "

"I don't need your excuses," she snapped.

Haymitch blinked to clear his vision, only then noticing the bottles rolling on the floor next to his foot.

"You have to understand," he tried again. "The law … The Council didn't –"

Effie shook her head to silence him. "Clean yourself up, Haymitch. I have two children to look after by myself, I don't have time to baby you. And don't you dare come anywhere near them in that state."

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as much as I like writing that bit with Tristan sleeping on Haymitch's chest.

Please review. I like reading your opinions and I would appreciate it v much. See you next week.