Chapter 33
Clouds on the horizon

Mrs. Pluckrose had a silver door knocker shaped like a wolf's head. It shone with moist after the latest rain. Empty eyes stared into Effie's when she lifted the heavy ring between its jaws and knocked three times.

The November wind whispered in the apple tree and she wrapped her cardigan, Haymitch's cardigan that was, tighter around herself as she waited.

Almost a full minute passed and right when she thought they would simply ignore her, the door swung open.

Mrs. Pluckrose's ten year old looked back at her, startled and big-eyed, standing there in his stocking feet and red knitted sweater with blue dots on it. Then his face closed shut and he stared her down, defiantly and suspicious.

"Hello, Timothy. Is your mother home?"

But she needn't ask for now Mrs. Pluckrose herself appeared in the doorway, next to her son.

"Something I can help you with, Ms. Trinket?"

Effie's gaze flitted to Timothy who remained behind his mother's skirts.

"Do you want to tell her, Timothy or shall I?"

When there was no response her attention returned to Mrs. Pluckrose.

"Your son has been harassing my children. Calling them names."

"I didn't! I just…"

"Today wasn't the first time either and I will not stand for it."

Mrs. Pluckrose turned to her son.

"Have you said anything inappropriate, Timmy?"

Timothy worried his bottom lip. Looked surly from Effie to his mother.

"No. I only said what you…"

"In!" Mrs Pluckrose snapped, pointing. "Go to your room!"

The boy shot one last glance at Effie and walked off. With him gone Mrs. Pluckrose turned to her neighbor again, smiling a smile sweet as a lemon.

"I'm sure this is nothing but a big misunderstanding. You probably just heard him wrong, that's all. I know how tiresome the baby years can be."

"I heard him perfectly clear, Mrs. Pluckrose."

"Our Timmy is a good boy. And this is a good neighborhood. Nothing like what you said has ever happened before. Not until you moved here."

"Oh, my dear Mrs. Pluckrose," said Effie and shook her head. "If you are bent on playing this obtuse, then can I at least talk to Timothy?"

The neighbor flashed another sweet-sour smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"That is never going to happen, Ms. Trinket. Pardon me for being so frank but if you feel like the Capitol isn't agreeing with you then there's always the option of moving. Why don't you just heed my advice and take your family back to District 12. You'll be happier for it."

xXx

"I should've gone."

More rain tapped against the glass ceiling of the roof terrace while Effie poured coffee for them both.

"Goodness no." She checked on Amy sleeping in her baby bouncer before settling into the sofa with her cup, her feet tucked underneath her. "I'm way too exhausted to wipe that woman's blood off the walls."

Ian moved sleepily against his father's chest but with the rocking of the old hammock he didn't wake up. Haymitch rubbed his free hand against his aching eyes. Felt like someone had poured sand into them.

Effie was probably right.

A few weeks ago she wanted fresh tulips to celebrate the fact that the house was now hers. Later, when they pushed the stroller out of the flower shop they crossed paths with an elderly couple. 80 years old or more. Him leaning heavily against a cane and dressed in a pearl gray suit and matching hat. Her, petite and viciously laced up with a dead Eastern bluebird on top of her elegant hairdo.

"Oh, don't mind about them, dear," the old lady said and patted her husband's arm.

But the man had halted to a stop and when Effie met his frosty stare with her head high he spat on the ground.

"Filthy half-breeds!"

"Hey, pal!" Haymitch shouted after them. "If you don't want me to knock those false teeth out you'll keep your opinions to yourself!"

So yeah. Haymitch had always fancied himself a level-headed man. Someone who could keep his cool under pressure. Even be diplomatic when the situation called for it. But with Amy and Ian… If something threatened them, he saw red every time.

"Do you want me to take him?" Effie asked when Ian let out a long whine and bumped his mouth into Haymitch's shoulder.

"No, it's alright." He kissed the top of his son's head. "Boy's just determined to have his father jump off the fire escape. Aren't you, sweetheart?"

In response, Ian hiccupped and the next moment something warm ran down Haymitch's shoulder.

Effie burst out laughing and covered her mouth with her hand. Haymitch shot her a look.

"You gonna do that every time they spit up on me?"

Effie cleared her throat to try and contain herself but her eyes glittered with mirth as she helped him with the paper towels.

"At least you have a burp cloth," she said. "If you could just remember wearing it. That's more than I had when you puked on me during the Games."

Down bellow, the door bell suddenly rang in a fury, followed by a thunder of feet and distant laughter.

Haymitch sighed.

In the weeks and months that followed their first visit, they'd spent a lot of time in the Fountains of Youth. Other places too. The river Theseus, Cupid's Garden. Always in the morning when the least people were up and about, giving them a hard time.

But it was only kids who advanced like this. Who dared more than looks and whispers. And Timothy Pluckrose wasn't the only one. Far from it.

It got so bad that Haymitch and Effie would probably have kept to the roof terrace with its bullet proof glass as much as possible, if it was all up to them.

It wasn't a bad place for someone who needed a break from the world. If not a safe haven, then at least a quiet, peaceful hideout, overflowing with potted plants. A comfy couch, armchairs. Soft carpets. A small book case stood in the corner filled with children's books and glossy magazines and a family of Effie's origami frogs.

In here they fed and changed and cuddled the twins. Read them bedtime stories and played records for them on their grandfather's old gramophone. Even enjoyed a good lunch or a catnap, when given the chance.

It was a good house. No matter what his feelings were toward the rest of the Capitol, he had to accept that it really was. The rooms, the roof terrace, the little garden with the tree and the wishing pond. A good place for children. And with each memory built that included them, the more it became their house. Amy and Ian's. And that made it the one place in the Capitol he could actually stand.

But Amy and Ian loved being outdoors. They loved riding in the stroller. Especially through the Fountains of Youth. Haymitch didn't know if it was the sound of water or the wind chimes or simply the soft bumps and bounces of the stroller itself but it was the single best way to make them fall asleep and sleep hard.

Overall, their sleep cycle was out of whack, despite Effie's careful planning. When she was still pregnant, it had seemed like a non-issue – staying up with a newborn at three in the morning – since he'd be awake anyway.

But what he didn't take into account was the fact that Amy and Ian needed him just as much during the day. Every day. 24 hours a day.

No wonder sleep deprivation was used as a torture method. He'd confess anything at this point.

The crying was another matter. Effie said it was all normal but he'd be damned if her genes hadn't given them a head-start in the voice department. Because how else could someone so small be so fucking loud? He'd be deaf in one ear before their first birthday.

His entire existence had narrowed down to just recognizing what the twins needed and give it to them.

Course, his life hadn't exactly been chockfull of ambition prior to them either. Or any kind of meaning, for that matter.

xXx

"Tattletale! District breeder! Twelve Whore!"

Hands banged on the windows and the twins shrieked, startled awake just minutes before being put down.

"Goddamn punks!"

Haymitch hauled himself out of bed. Seeing him coming, the kids fled, giggling hysterically. He slammed the window open.

"Come back here, you ignoramuses!"

Their laughs echoed as they all scattered to the wind.

"Go back to District 12, traitor!" one of them piped.

"It's OK. It's OK, baby girl. I'm here. Mama's here."

Amy wailed in Effie's arms. Ian too, alone in the crib. That's what finally moved Haymitch from the window.

"Come here. Don't cry, little 'un." He lifted his son up, holding him close. "I ain't never gonna let anyone hurt you. Not ever."

Haymitch knew his children's cries. Had heard plenty of it since the moment they were born. He'd even started to recognize some of them, able to tell what cry meant what, with Effie's help.

But he had never heard anything like this and he never wanted to again.

The wrong cries. Frightened cries. Like they were scared out of their minds.

He cradled Ian close to his chest, rocking him. With his hands clutched into fists the baby wailed from the top of his lungs. Amy did too and all they could do was waiting for it to pass.

Ian calmed down first. With his little face buried in his father's sweater, the safe and familiar smell comforted him.

Amy had a worse time. Sometimes there was a pause in her cries with nothing but the occasional whimper but then it was like she remembered it anew and it set her off all over again.

Effie rocked her and kissed her and whispered a soft lullaby. Wonderfully out of tune, yes, but the sound lit an idea in Haymitch's head.

"Come. Imma try something."

Holding the twins, they headed for the living room. Haymitch laid Ian down on the couch and Effie had a seat next to him with a crying Amy to her chest.

June and Annabel's piano went with all the rest of the furniture when the moving van rolled out of the Capitol but Effie had one herself. One that belonged to her parents, though not nearly as fancy.

Now Haymitch pulled out the music stool in front of it and had a seat. With his fingers on top of the ivories, slow and sweet music filled the air. His first performance since before they were born.

It was one of her absolute favorites. Haymitch had played it to her as many times as she liked during the pregnancy.

Baby Mine. That's right. Or Babies Mine as Effie'd come to call it. A mountain air as old as the hills. Haymitch even taught her the lyrics when asked. She heard the words in her mind now, just as clearly as she did the music.

Amy quieted down as the music registered. With tears shining on her cheeks her cries turned to sniffles and then nothing at all. Ian nibbled on his knuckles, blinking up at the ceiling. Both the twins listened, in wonderment over the sounds. Then, almost immediately, their eyelids started drooping.

"Oh," said Effie in a hushed voice. "I think they remember."

Haymitch's dirty blonde hair fell into his eyes as he kept playing the soft lullaby. Effie kissed Amy's temple, holding her with one arm; her other hand rested against Ian, throughout the rest of the song.

xXx

"You should've let a Capitolian knock you up instead of me."

Haymitch lay on his side, watching Amy and Ian's chests rise and fall with each breath. They slept soundly now, lying in the middle of the bed, safe between their parents. Effie met his gaze from the other side, caressing their hair.

"What kind of rubbish is that?"

"I'm serious. You wouldn't be having this problem if they weren't my blood."

"Don't start that again. I don't care what people think. Amy and Ian are yours and it's exactly how it should be. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. You know that."

"OK," he said. "What about them? What will their lives be like?"

An hour later the cab pulled up to the curb. The glowing sun was on its way down, setting the world ablaze. Just the kind of orange Peeta loved.

Mrs. Pluckrose stood in her doorway, watching them lift the last of their bags into the car. So giddy she was practically flying on her feet.

"We'll be sorry to see you go," she thrilled.

"Oh, just let it be, Effs," said Haymitch but Effie had already turned around and left him there with the twins, slumbering in their child safety seats.

"We're not moving, Mrs. Pluckrose," she said, coming face to face with the neighbor. "We're going to District 12 to visit our other children."

Mrs. Pluckrose snorted a laugh.

"Your children?"

"That's right. And while we're being this neighborly, let me just inform you that if you don't teach your son some decent manners until I get back I might just tell your darling husband about the gentlemen you enjoy spending time with while Timothy's at school."

Mrs. Pluckrose's face turned an ugly red.

"That's a filthy lie! And even if it wasn't, my Carl would never believe the words of a fallen woman like yourself!"

"Maybe he will and maybe he won't. Do you really want to take the chance?"

Mrs. Pluckrose's teeth were clutched so tightly it was a miracle they didn't shatter like dinner plates at a tourist attraction. Her pale eyes stared into Effie's who looked straight back, steadfast and unwavering.

"Twelve Whore," she murmured through pressed lips.

"Capitol cunt," said Effie, loud and clear. Mrs. Pluckrose gasped, gaping like she couldn't even believe the words.

"You!" was all she got out. "You… you!"

Effie didn't stay to hear the rest. She turned on her heel, back to Haymitch and their children.

Mrs. Pluckrose wasn't the only one who stared. Haymitch looked at Effie like he'd never seen anything so magnificent in all of his 40 odd years.

"Did you just…?"

"Oh, shut up, Haymitch!" She lifted Ian into the car. "Let's go."

Author's note: And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Effie is boss! Baby Mine is from the movie "Dumbo" of course. The 2019 version. You can listen to it on Youtube: "Disney Piano – Dumbo Baby Mine – Relaxing piano." I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Leave a review if you wanna make my day and make for faster updates.