Author's note: Happy Walpurgis Night, to those of you who celebrate! I hope you'll get a great day with lots of hotdogs and bonfires and paper cups of coffee! I'm going out myself soon and it's sunny and 17 degrees Celsius! (That's a lot this time of year when you live north of the wall = Sweden.)
Until then: here's part two of chapter 43! If you enjoyed what you read please consider leaving a comment! It may seem like it doesn't make much difference – from a reader's perspective – but it truly and absolutely means the WORLD to us starving fanfic writers. ;)
Chapter 43, Between a rock and a hard place (part two)
"Her name's Trinket. Euphemia 'Effie' Trinket. T-R-I-N-K-E-T."
Haymitch stalked across the kitchen – back and forth, back and forth – with the cordless phone pressed into his ear. Cold sheets of rain poured down the windows, hammered off the roof. Hard and relentless.
"Her friend drove her to the emergency room", he said. "Hours ago! No one's gotten back to me!"
"I'm sorry. But this isn't the ER, I'm afraid", the voice said. Boy sounded too young to buy his own beer, let alone work in a hospital. "You've reached the reception."
"Well, don't you have a computer or something?" he barked. "Just look her up, how hard can it be! Her name's …"
"I know. But it doesn't work like that …"
"Give 'em a ring then, what's the damn problem?!" His anger was inking all over, not helping his case (like: at all) but he couldn't help it. "Find out if she's seen a doctor at least or if she's still waiting. Woman's got a white and pink dress on. Checkered, like a picnic rug. Can't miss her."
"I don't think we're supposed t…"
"Oh, come on! Just help me out here! Do I have to get down on my knees and beg?"
"… You're not the husband …"
"I'm as good as. I mean …", he added when he realized what he let slip. He rubbed a tired hand across his forehead, shoulders sagging. Effie's silk hair ribbon that he still clutched between his fingers brushed against his clammy skin.
"She's my children's mother, OK. I wanted to go with her but she told me to stay put. Look after them, while she … Please, I need to know if she's OK. If you had a wife, you'd understand."
A long time passed.
"One phone call", Haymitch pleaded. "Just to see if she's still in the waiting room. Or her friend. Annabel. Tall. Brown hair. Looks like Caesar Flickerman. Ask her to get back to me as soon as she can."
" … Oh, alright. One moment."
And he was left with that awful elevator music.
But at least, things were moving forward. Which was more than you could say about the last couple of hours.
After what felt like two life sentences served back to back, a click snuffed one particularly sweltering note and the man said,
"OK. From what I've discovered, Mr. Abernathy, your … your … Effie, she's been called in for a cranial CT-scan."
The words twisted Haymitch's insides.
"Cranial? So … like the brain?"
"Yes. X-ray pictures. To look for things like an aneurysm, hemorrhage or stroke. Not, not that there has to be any", the man added quickly. "They just need to rule out any serious and potentially fatal conditions first. Find the root cause and tailor a treatment. She's probably totally completely fine! And her friend … Annalee? Anna Bella? … she's with the patient. I told them to pass on your message when they see her. And that's all I can do for you right now, I'm afraid", he said, almost guiltily.
Haymitch nodded.
"Thanks. Appreciate it."
He ended the call. Sunk into a chair, phone next to him on the table.
Aneurysm, hemorrhage or stroke.
Images of a Games flashed in his mind. The year the Gamemakers released that blood wave. An avalanche down the mountains, only red, and it swallowed up everything in its wake. Everything and everyone.
She's strong, Annabel's words echoed in his head. Stronger than most. But she's not made out of titanium. Don't break her.
Had he gone and done that now? Bent her every which way until she snapped right in half?
Elbows on his thighs, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Twisted the soft pink hair ribbon between his fingers. Welcomed the searing pain. Like Katniss and Finnick with their lengths of rope back in Thirteen. Only, they weren't at fault for the things happening.
Aneurysm, hemorrhage or stroke.
From the baby monitor inside his pocket came a quiet whimper. Not a cry. Just one of those soft baby snuffles they used to make when they were sleeping. Sleeping and dreaming their little dreams, unaware of the fact that their whole life might change tonight.
Not her. Please not her too!
His loving, kind, good-hearted Effs. His sweetheart. His lighthouse. If she died, everything would be over. Everything would fall apart. Once and for all.
Their fractured, patched up little family would be nothing but ashes and ruins. And his poor, innocent, motherless children … they'd be taken away from him to live with someone else. Katniss and Peeta. Or Sae or Hazelle. If he was lucky.
Effie. Who laughed with Sae at the Hob and made shadow animals on the wall for her granddaughter. Who brought tea with honey and lemon when Katniss had that nasty flu. Who always helped Peeta out at the bakery without him having to ask. Effie, who kissed her children goodnight every day after reading them their favorite stories.
No! The thought rung out so loud and clear he could almost hear it. He shoved the images off his mind, like a suffocating blanket. She's not dead yet! She's not!
Outside, the rain kept pouring. The grandfather clock ticked the hours by – minute by agonizing minute. And from above: the occasional creak of footfalls. Haymitch wasn't the only one awake; not the only one who worried.
But June, she'd hardly come out of her room all night. Couldn't stand the sight of him, no doubt. Not after the way he treated his family. The stress he inflicted on everyone in this house.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
A round moon struggled to clear through the massive, dark clouds. No stars. No nothing.
Tick-tock.
When the phone finally rang, Haymitch almost jumped out of his own skin. He hit reply not a second signal later.
"Hello?" he blurted. "Hello? Effie?"
"No, it's me."
"Oh." His shoulders relaxed. "Hi Annabel. How she doin'? Any news on her?"
"She's OK. She's resting now. Sorry I didn't call before. I didn't want to leave her side."
"No, no. Course not." He swallowed against the dryness of his mouth. Ran his tongue over his cracked lips. Tasted blood. "They've examined her, yeah?"
"Yes. It was a primary thunderclap headache."
Her words turned him cold with dread. Thunderclap? What in God's name was that? His feelings must have shown through his silence for she added quickly,
"Don't worry. Sounds worse than it is. She was really lucky. Primary headaches are painful but harmless. No underlying medical condition. They kept her here as long as they did because they wanted to rule out secondary causes and health issues. There aren't any. They think it was simply brought on by extreme stress combined with the exertion of running like she did."
"So … she's …" Haymitch struggled to keep his voice steady. "She's gonna be OK then?"
Behind him came the telltale creak of the stairs and he knew without looking that June listened from the door.
"They've treated her with NSAID", Annabel replied. "That's a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug, to reduce swelling. She needs to take it easy for the next couple of days, less stress, but they see no reason why she couldn't come home tonight. They're keeping her here a little while longer though. For observation. She had a spinal tap so she's not to move for an hour at least."
"Can I see her?" His voice sounded so meek and pathetic. Heart-broken. The voice of someone who knew he had no right to ask what he was asking. "M-maybe you can look after the twins, just for a little while, and I'll find my way into town."
"Hey …"
The sound made him look up. June pushed herself off the door frame. Her voice not as sharp, her face less hard when she held a hand out. He passed her the phone.
"Hi … yeah", she spoke into the receiver. "Yeah, I can stay." She listened to something her wife said. "Right. OK. Bye." She ended the call, eyes on Haymitch. "Bel will come get you. Effie wants to see you too."
xXx
Why were hospitals always so cold? Haymitch lumbered after the nurse. Followed her through endless corridors.
Muted paintings on the walls. Fake green plants on the tables. All illuminated by the fluorescent light that he'd forever associate with pain and fear and heartache.
At least he was allowed in. Had this been the Capitol, the visiting hours would be long over.
They stopped in front of a door like all the others.
"Last bed on the right", the nurse pointed and was already off.
Haymitch pushed inside.
The lights were down-low. Six beds facing opposite each other. Some of the cubicle curtains pulled shut for privacy. Soft snores. Rustle of sheets.
He treaded carefully, so as not to disturb any of the patients. Effie's curtains were pulled only halfway, letting the scarce moonlight in.
She lay on top of the covers, reflected by the rain pouring down the glass. Dressed in a hospital gown. Eyes closed.
His heart ached when he watched her red, swollen face. Even in this dim light he could tell she'd been crying. Crying hard.
But her chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths – so different from hours before. It occurred to him that maybe they'd offered her some kind of tranquilizer.
Throat thick with regret he just wanted to take her in his arms. Hold her close and never let go.
But what right did he have? None. Less than none. And even if she'd let him, he didn't dare. Not after what happened in the kitchen.
Instead, he took a seat by her bedside. Quiet as a mouse. Didn't want to wake her.
No such luck. A slight creak of wood against linoleum and she stirred. Opened her eyes, heavy-lidded, groggy as she struggled and focused on him.
"Haymitch?"
"Hey, sweetheart, hi", he said, hand against the edge of the mattress.
Her eyes fell closed but she forced them open.
"The twins …"
"They're OK. Sleeping like … well, like babies. June's watching over them while I'm here."
"And you got them to bed on time?" she mumbled.
"Yeah."
"Brushed their teeth? Changed their nappies? Read to them?"
"I did."
"Ian can't sleep without his binky …"
"I know, sweetheart. Just … try and relax a little bit, OK?"
Effie drew a soft sigh. Exhausted but comforted by his words. For now at least.
He made a vague gesture toward her face. "How's your head?"
"Better. They gave me some painkillers. I told them I need to get back to my babies but they say I can't leave this bed yet. They … they shoved a needle in my spine."
"Yeah, I heard. I'm so sorry."
I'm sorry. How many times could he say that in the span of 24 hours?
Effie met his gaze – beautiful blue eyes, tired and shiny with the threat of fresh tears.
"I can't do this anymore."
There it was. The words he'd been waiting for this whole time.
A small choked sound come from his throat just the same but he nodded, head sunk low.
"I know."
Things will be better, he wanted to say.I'll do better. When you get out of here I'll turn things around, one way or another. We'll go home, back to Twelve, and I'll never let you down again. Cause as long as we're together nothing else matters.
But who was he to tell her those rose-tinted lies? That's all it really was. Effie knew better than anyone that his promises weren't worth shit.
"When are you leaving?" he mumbled, eyes on his shaky hands.
"The day after tomorrow." The raw pain already etched on her face spilt over into each and every one of her words. "After I've had my final check-up. I already told Annabel. She wanted us to stay the week but … I just can't go on like this. I need a break from … I need some time to think. On my own. And you … you can come visit them. The solution we discussed when they were born."
She drew a trembling breath. Swallowed her tears when she said,
"You weren't wrong before. When you said you didn't hurt them. You didn't. This time. But one day you will and I can't let you do that. Doesn't matter what happens to me but I cannot let you hurt Amy and Ian. If you're going to be drunk it'll be on your own time. Not in front of our children. Never again. You'll see them sober. Or not at all."
Author's note: And we're reaching the end of Hayffie's time in Eleven – for now at least. What did you think?
Every fic I've ever read where Haymitch and Effie goes on vacation they always go to District 4. "My" Hayffie did too – in the first draft of ToS – but then I felt I wanted to try something a little different and wasn't there ANY other district they could go to? And Eleven fit surprisingly well.
So, back around New Years of 2015 I simply plucked June and Annabel's villa overlooking the sea and re-planted it among the orchards of Chaff's, Rue's and Tresh's home district instead. Hope you liked it!
Oh, and what did you think about Haymitch's little Freudian slip? Haha! Makes you think of that Daniel Bedingfield song ("If you're not the one") doesn't it? "If you're not for me then why do I dream of you as my wife?"