Chapter 44

Haymitch's lullaby

Night again. Midnight.

Cleo, June and Annabel's bearded dragon moved quietly in her tank. Her claws rattled against rock and root in her shadowy world, illuminated only by the pale shafts of moonlight.

Haymitch peered inside the living room, half-hidden by the doorway. Effie had yet to come back to her room. Not that it was any of his business. If she was restless tonight she had good reason.

But an hour passed, an hour-fifteen, and finally he followed her.

Not to try and make her reconsider. About Twelve and all. Her mind was made up. He'd certainly done everything in his power to cement her belief that the children were better off as far away from him as possible. Even if she was too polite to say so.

All he wanted was to check on her. Make sure she was OK.

As OK as could be expected.

And there she was. Curled up in the old armchair. Eyes closed, knees under her chin. Breathing softly.

Their trusty side-kick – the baby monitor - stood on the table, next to a half-finished glass of milk. Goat milk probably. She bought a bottle just the other day. Some local farmer, downtown.

Maybe she misses Twelve, he thought. Katniss and Peeta and … all the rest.

That or she just needed something sweet to help her sleep.

If so, it did the trick.

He watched her pale face, framed by soft strands of strawberry blonde hair. That special hue from the Trinket family tree that she passed on to her children. Their children.

In just a couple of hours, they'd all be gone. Effs, the kids. She already bought the tickets. One for the Capitol. One for Twelve.

He couldn't even follow them part-way. Not when they were going in two completely different directions.

He'd hinted, several times, at the solution of him setting up camp in her house while she and the twins moved to the Victor's Village. But every time he tried to open that door, Effie closed it again.

Didn't take a genius to figure out why.

He would have joined them for the whole trip. Gladly. All the way to the Capitol and home again. It still wouldn't feel like enough time.

But who wanted to lock themselves on a train for 24 hours with a dumbhead in withdrawal? Not Effie. Especially not when she already had two young children to take care of. The liquor was gone. No hair of the dog available. He'd be a wreck, not two districts later. He couldn't do that to her. Wouldn't expose her or the children to any of that bullshit.

Yeah, the booze really was gone. The hip flask. The bottles. He poured all of it down the drain. Something he'd done maybe never in his lifetime

While he waited for news on Effie.

A feverish act. A mad frenzy. Nothing but a desperate man's desperate pact with … whoever might be listening. Bent over the sink – blood pounding in his ears, his pipes clenched to what felt like half – he just snapped one seal after another.

As if his tossing the lot would somehow make Effie return home unscathed.

Unscathed? Fuck. Effs hadn't been without scars in decades and definitely not these past couple of years. Or days, for that matter.

With bated breath Haymitch stepped over the threshold. Occasional splatter of rain drip-dropped down the misty windows as he threaded soundlessly across the carpet.

He wasn't always a bull in a china shop. Katniss would be amazed (or maybe not) if she knew how quiet he could be still. When he had a mind to. And was sober.

He plucked the baby monitor from the table. Turned it off and slipped it in his pocket. His empty pocket.

Effie only mumbled something in her sleep when he spread the blanket over her. Tucked her in. He touched her cheek with a feather-light hand.

"Sleep well, princess. See ya in the mornin'."

The brisk breeze elbowed the house in the side. Over and over. Made it creak and groan on Haymitch's way upstairs.

Just like my place, he thought. It too was a talker. Course, had this been his house and his hour he wouldn't have noticed. He'd already be three sheets to the wind by now.

Or four or five.

He stopped by Effie's bedroom. Polished the wood with his ear, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Hand against the handle, he hesitated. Then pushed inside. One inch at a time.

Just to check on them.

The kids usually slept through the night now. Thanks to the tireless hard work of one ms. Effie Trinket. And like a drop's effort on his part.

So no wonder his heart jumped – like a cat off an electric fence – when Amy turned her head the moment he walked in.

Wide awake. Sitting upright in her side of the travel crib. Not an ounce of fatigue in her Seam gray eyes.

Mostly, when the girl woke up at odd hours – sleepy and overtired – she had no problem making herself heard.

But for whatever reason she only blinked her long lashes. A look in her eyes like "Do you have an appointment?"

Haymitch crouched before the crib.

"What're you doin' up, sweetheart?" He whispered the words because Ian was still sound asleep. Eyelashes dark against his chubby cheeks. The beloved binky propped in his mouth.

Haymitch caressed his daughter's silky hair.

"This is bedtime", he said. "Not playtime."

Maybe it was the word. "Play". That or simply the cadence of his soft dad voice. But Amy instantly put both hands up in front of her, palms facing him. Expectantly.

When he didn't immediately respond with the double high five (or something equally enthralling) she let out a bright bird squeak, like he was a little slow and she had to spell it out.

Haymitch's lips curved upwards. But it was a smile that couldn't quite quench the sadness in his tired red eyes. He flopped down on the floor, cross-legged. Held her perfect little hands between his shaky, timeworn thumbs and forefingers.

"Tomorrow", he said. "Now's night-night. OK?"

Amy shook her head violently from side to side. A bull's eye coincidence but enough for him to flash a hint of teeth.

"No. You gon' need your energy in the morning. Come on. Lay down your head. And close your eyes. Just like it says in aunt Katniss's song."

Ever so gently he helped her down on her back, but Amy's body had no sooner touched the mattress before she struggled back up again. Shot him a look that was so Effie-like he half-expected "Manners!" to be snapped his way.

He tried it a second time. Put her down. Scanned the room for the pacifier.

Big mistake.

Amy's bottom lip jutted out. Eyebrows creased, her face turned a darker shade of pink as it crinkled up dangerously.

"No, no, no ...", said Haymitch hastily. "Don't cry. Don't cry, girlie."

Too late.

Fucking hell, he thought as he reached inside the crib. Lifted out his wailing child. When would he learn? Almost a year in and he still made these clueless first dad mistakes.

"There, there, I got ya", he mumbled into her hot temple. "No need to work on my deafness. I got ya." Her arms clutched his neck and he rocked her, speaking the same soft words as many a night before.

And, of course, her cries had not yet subsided before her brother stirred. The boy rubbed a fist into his eye, the pacifier slipped out onto the mattress and from him came a few pitiful whimpers.

Before long Haymitch had both arms full of his two cranky children.

Got no one to blame but himself. Why didn't he just sit with her? Read a bedtime story or hummed some of the songs they liked. Girl would've passed out eventually, without him pushing and prodding her.

He gave them both a kiss.

"Whatcha say we go back to my room, hm? Don't think you've ever been there, like once, this whole trip."

Said and done.

"His" quarters weren't nearly as neat as Effie's, obviously. But he put in the effort to make the bed at least. The fact he'd hardly slept in it this whole time helped of course.

Guided by moonlight, he unloaded his precious cargo onto the embroidered bedspread.

And there they felt right at home. Because if there was one thing his little cubs had always enjoyed, it was beds. The bigger, the better. Here, in the Capitol, in Twelve. Everyone's but their own really.

Their whining instantly stopped, like turning off a tap. Ian flopped forward against the pillow with an excited huff.

"Don't fall off", Haymitch warned, head inside one of the wardrobes. "Can't return you to mama with any bumps. She'll wring my neck."

"Aa-mm-uh!" squeaked Amy eagerly, clutching her toes with both hands. "Mmm-amm-amm-amm!"

"Mama's sleeping", Haymitch said. Hangers creaked when he nudged the jackets and sweaters and raincoats aside, looking for his secret further in. "Long day. We just gotta look after ourselves for now, yeah?"

Getting a good grip he carried the box out. Just a regular-sized cardboard parcel. Big enough to carry … what? A dozen bottles of beer?

He lifted it onto the bed, before Amy and Ian's mildly curious gazes.

"I know it should be tied up with strings and all that fancy-schmancy." He climbed in with them. "But I can't wrap for sh… A drunk orangutan would do a better job."

Not like Eff, he thought. Seriously, what'd she do? Apply for a gift wrapping certificate alongside her escort courses?

The old man could've probably fixed it. When Haymitch called in the order. But it just didn't occur to him at the time. To ask the favor.

Ian tugged at him. The usual cue when he wanted to be picked up. Haymitch settled him on his left knee. Amy, on the right.

"Think of this like it's mama's cooking", he said and inched the box closer. "Just cause it doesn't look right doesn't mean you won't like what's inside."

The seal was already broken. Earlier. Not with his knife. Effie would have had a fucking asthma-attack had he brought it here. Just a regular pair of scissors with ring handles made out of hickory wood.

He flipped open the flaps. The outer the inner. Reached through the bubble wrap.

It was heavier than he remembered. He needed both hands to get it out of the box. The twins watched with peaked interest as he placed the object, the present, before them.

"You were supposed to have it when you were born", Haymitch said quietly. "And then again the other day. I messed up but … better late than never."

Ian reached a hand out. Gingerly grazed his five tiny fingernails against the left one of the three.

Three goslings sitting on a patch of grass.

Amy followed her brother's example. Touched the bird on the right. The soft down. The pearly eyes. The little beak. Babbled something, questioningly.

"Nah, it ain't real goslings", Haymitch said. "Don't worry, I already made sure. It's called a music box. I want you to have it. Take it with you when you …"

His voice faltered.

"Crazy day that was." He kissed the top of her head. Kissed Ian's too. "First time I ever met ya. Feels like a hundred years now. You were so squished. Both o' ya. Got these … purplish lil' monkey faces. Hollering at me like I'd broken your grandmother's china."

He smiled at the memory.

"And I knew I'd never seen anything more beautiful in all my life. And yeah, that's including your poor mother. I was a goner. From the start. Never been more proud, more terrified, of anything. Ever. Lucky too. Cause out of all the people in this world, I get to be your dad."

Eyes shiny, he swallowed hard against the painful lump in his throat. Caressed Amy's cheek with the back of his fingers. Dropped a kiss to the dimples of Ian's knuckles.

"But I can't be a good dad to you now. Not the kind you need and deserve. Tomorrow when it's time for bed I won't be there. I don't know when we'll see each other again. Properly. But if you ever feel sad and anxious and can't sleep cause I ain't there, mama can play you this song and wherever I am or whatever I'm doing I'll be listening with you. No matter what happens, we'll always be a family. In here."

He touched the spot right over their hearts.

"And whenever you look out on the night sky, remember that even though we're far away from each other I'm looking at the same moon you are. The same stars. OK?"

He tilted the goslings over, carefully, having a look at the underside.

"So, watcha say?" he asked, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. "Wanna try and play some music? See what kinda song it's got?"

There was something engraved in the metal. Haymitch squinted at it, ran a thumb over the old letters.

"'Someday'", he read. "Never heard of it. Have you?" He looked at the twins. "Maybe mama knows … and there's the key …"

He grabbed a good hold. Gave it half a dozen twists. Just like Paulus Bell had taught him.

The music box came to life immediately.

But what Haymitch first noticed wasn't the tinkles, the chimes, the melody itself.

No. It was the goslings themselves.

They were glowing.

All three of them. Carried within some kind of light, burning right where their hearts would be. Warm and comforting.

A night lamp. Not painful to the eye but warm. Ember-soft. Like a campfire. But not the fire you lit with cold-stiff fingers in the arena. Fires that got you killed.

No. The kind you lit on your own hearth when it was time to eat, time to sleep. The shadows cast: not frightening. Not dangerous. Just … playful. Calming.

This, he'd already sensed of course. Back at the Forum, when Paulus Bell first demonstrated the music box to him. It had a light of some kind, sure.

But in the vivid and bright cascades of artificial bullshit that the Capitol spewed all over you – spotlights, billboards, fairy bulbs – this tiny little source was all but drowned out. Leaving only glimpses.

But here, in the quiet and the dark, it was different. Now they burned strong and steadily. Unswerving. Always had … course … It's capacity to shine never changed. Never went anywhere. Even if he was too distracted to realize it.

And then the music. He strained his ears; once again, tried to place it. Where it came from. He'd always had a remarkable memory. That was his curse. One of them, anyway. And as for songs and melodies, he was a living breathing archive.

Sae said he reminded her of Katniss's grandmother in that regard. She never forgot anything with a tune either. One hearing was all she needed.

The song was simple enough. He could easily find it on the piano – if he'd had a piano at his disposal. A lullaby, obviously. Soft and gentle, like the light it emitted. Kind, if that made sense? Tenderly merry. Like a kiss on the cheek. One of Effie's kisses.

Someday. Someday, what?

The twins had fallen completely silent. Marble-eyed. Sitting very still, as always when they were really into something. Mesmerized, either by the light or the music or both.

His good, sweet children. How odd to think they weren't always in his life.

So many more things he wanted to say to them. While there was still time. Not that they understood what he was telling them or even if they did, they wouldn't hear a word he said, being so awestruck by their new present.

He ought to just let them enjoy the show. Have it lull them to slumber before he carried them back to Effie's room.

But one thing he had to say. Couldn't let them leave without it.

"I love you, little uns." He kissed their soft, goose-downy hair. "I know I don't say it a lot. Not like mama does. I never got to keep anything to call mine and I know it's silly but … it's like if I say it too often someone will pick up on it. Like a frequency on the radio. They'll know and then … But I do. So much. You're the best thing I ever did with my life."

Heart aching, he rested his chin against the top of Ian's head. Cupped his hand around Amy's little foot.

"I'm really really gonna miss you."

Author's note: Now they've all gotten geese for a gift, did you notice? Haymitch has the origami goose that Effie made him, Haymitch gave her a porcelain goose on the December Fair before knocking her up and the twins now has their music box goslings.

"Someday" is a real song. There's even an actual music box version of it on Spotify and YouTube played by Nibble Pig. And if you'll wonder, just like I did: "Where the hell have I heard this melody before?" it's because it's a roll credits song from "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." Go check it out! The Alan Menken version. It's got the loveliest lyrics ever! Very "Deep in the Meadow" and "What I need is the dandelion in the Spring" themed. ;)

Also, the sentence "You're the best thing I ever did with my life". I can't take credit for that cause it's a variation of a line (said by another addict) in "Riding in cars with boys". A movie (and book) I was obsessed with when I was 15. If you ever get the chance, watch it on dvd. That way you can also enjoy Drew Barrymore's beautiful voice-over commentary!