hayffiebird

[hayffiebird]

Some Hayffie for the soul

[hayffiebird]

[hayffiebird]

[hayffiebird]

Team 12

[hayffiebird]

[i danced for my dinners, spreed kisses like honey]

[you stole and you gambled, and I said you should]

[We sang for our suppers, we drank up our money]

[Then one day you left, saying I was no good]

All right, I'm bad, but then, you're no prize either All right, I'm bad, but then, that's nothing new. You say you won't love me, I won't love neither. Just let me remind you what I am to you:

[I am the one who looks out when you're leaping]

[I am the one who knows how you were brave]

[I am the one who heard what you said sleeping]

[I'll take that and more when I go to my grave]

| metaphorical grave to her metaphorical death |

[hayffiebird]

Bro was HUNGRY

[hayffiebird]

if we can't have a hayffie epilogue at least i hope to see elizabeth banks and woody harrelson reunited at some point

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 57

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay (Canon divergence) Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie becomes a fixture in Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is rekindled. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile, Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something which will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. READ MORE

Chapter 57, Out of the ashes, into the fire

*ring ring*

Hello? McCoy residence.

Sae? *twins crying in the background* It’s me.

Effie! What a lovely surprise.

*chokes back a sob* I’m sorry. I know it’s really early. I just didn’t know who else to call!

That’s quite alright, my girl. Of course you can call me. I’m always up with the sun, anyway. Why don’t you tell me what’s the matter, dear? Something about the children?

It’s everything! I don’t know what to do anymore! I feel like I’m letting them down all the time! Every day! No matter what I do there’s always someone hurting and crying. I tried vanilla essence. I tried ice and clove oil and nothing works! Not well enough.

Their schedule’s completely out of whack, none of us are sleeping and I can’t call Haymitch because he’s got his own problems. There’s just too little of me to go around! I only have two hands! What am I going to do, Sae? I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do! I need help!

OK. Effie. Breathe. Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna fix this, alright? First thing’s first: Do you have anyone nearby? Someone in the Capitol who can come be with you right now?

No. Everyone’s busy. I can’t cut their vacations short just because I don’t know how to take care of my own children! *sobs* I’m a horrible mother.

That’s just the exhaustion talking, dear. So you go ahead and brush those thoughts right off your mind, you hear? Listen. This is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna get dressed now and then I’ll head over to Haymitch’s place.

In the meantime, Katniss or Peeta will call you up while I put Haymitch on the next available train. I’ll get back to you after and then I’ll stay on the phone with you for as long as you need me.

*draws a shaky breath* What about the diner?

I’ll ask Hazelle or one of my kids to put up a note. “Closed until further notice”.

You can’t do that …

I can and I am. You’re more important, and that’s final. You would’ve done the same for either of us. What else is family for?

What if he won’t come? I’ve left over a dozen messages but all he did was unplug the phone, or … I don’t know, tore it out the wall again?

If he won’t come, I will.

He promised he wouldn’t do this! He promised!

I know. But whatever happens, you won’t have to carry this all on your own. Not anymore. And he will come, Effie. I’ll see to it. If I so have to cram him into an envelope and mail him to you myself.

*gives a tearful laugh* OK. OK …

You’re not alone, my girl.

xXx

Not alone.

Rocking the twins in her arms, one child on each hip, Effie paced the nursery. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Amy’s cries had softened to sniffles, but the tear stains were still fresh on her cheeks. She held the nape of Effie’s t-shirt for support with one fist. The goose stuffie dangled from the other.

Ian had nestled against mama, head heavy on her shoulder. Sobs racked his little body and every now and again a whimper escaped into the crock of her neck. Weak and exhausted.

Eyes brimming with hot tears, Effie whispered soft words of comfort into their skin.

Everything, from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet, ached by the exertion of carrying them both.

Her body felt like it was being ripped apart, limb by limb. It was like her veins pumped liquid fire instead of blood, frying her alive from the inside out.

But she knew, if she put the children down, it would only set them off again, making everything ten times worse.

“Dada will be here soon”, she murmured, as much to herself as to them. “Dada’s coming home.”

Sae made it all happen. She was never one to sit idly by when someone was in trouble.

“So, I’ve talked with Haymitch now”, she said the first time she called. “He’s packing as we speak. The train leaves in less than an hour. Is there anything in particular you need?”

“OK. Bit of a change of plans”, she said, the second time. “He just got off the phone with Plutarch Heavensbee. The man’s shooting a documentary in District 10 and has promised to give Haymitch a ride over. By hovercraft. That’ll reduce the travel time by almost half.”

“Haymitch told me to tell you, not to worry”, she said, the third time. “They’re in the air now and will arrive at the Capitol around 4PM.”

Sweet Sae. What would she do without her? What would any of them do?

The old lady had welcomed Effie as one of the family, from the get-go. A bond that only grew stronger after the birth of Effie’s and Haymitch’s children.

Effie never quite felt deserving of it. Wasn’t at all used to it. Mrs Q’s love and care was always conditional, and Sae McCoy – Louella’s mother – had every right to hate Effie Trinket because of what she’d done during the Games and because of where she came from.

Only, she didn’t. She never had.

Next to Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta Sae was the one person who truly made Effie feel at home in the district.

That summer after her overdose, on days when just getting out of bed felt too great an obstacle, Sae would come over, unbidden, bringing a still-warm casserole, homemade ginger and lemongrass cordial and fresh flowers from her garden.

Talking about this and that, never expecting an answer, the old woman pulled the curtains apart and left the window ajar, allowing birdsong to flutter in. All in all making her feel like: not the enemy. Someone precious. Worthy of care.

Since then, Effie had been over at the McCoy’s several times. For dinner and tea. That’s where she first saw the framed photo, seated on the mantlepiece. When Snow’s bombs came raining down over Twelve, it was one of the few items Sae wouldn’t leave behind.

Louella. The little girl from Haymitch’s Games.

Out of respect for the family’s grief, Effie never mentioned the child but it soon dawned on her that – unlike Haymitch – Sae didn’t mind talking about her.

Especially with those close to the girl, who never knew her. When a grandchild or daughter-in-law wondered about Louella, Sae answered all questions asked.

“It’s like when you light candles in memory of the people you love”, she told Effie. “That’s what I do when I remember Louella. I light a candle for her in my mind, until she’s like a vast field of fireflies, all the way to the horizon. She would have liked that image.”

If only some of Sae’s outlook on life could rub off on Haymitch, Effie thought. Either way, there was comfort in the fact that even though she, Effie, wasn’t there to check on him, at least Sae was. One of the few people left in his life who knew the family he’d lost.

Thanks to her, the phone and the widescreen had been alive with kind faces and reassuring voices all throughout the day.

Sae had sung the twins their favorite songs. Those same melodies Haymitch used to play on the piano. Music they’d listened to, since before they were born.

Peeta read to them, encouraging the few words Amy and Ian had in their vocabulary. Katniss brought stories from the woods. Stories and treasures she’d salvaged from its green embrace.

Even Hazelle checked in a couple of times. And the kids. Posy built staggering towers of letter blocks and then tilted them over, to the twins’ never-dying glee.

With their help, the two year olds settled in a bit, allowing Effie to rest her arms – if only a moment. At this point, every second was appreciated.

In the last hour though, the screen was black. They all agreed it was wiser to keep the line open, in case Haymitch called.

But he didn’t.

As time ticked closer and closer to 4PM, Effie’s eyes kept drifting to the clock on the wall.

She was so grateful she could burst that Sae kept her in the loop, but … why didn’t Haymitch do it himself? Why use Sae for a messenger instead of giving her the information first-hand?

Because he was in such a hurry, she tried and reasoned with herself. He wanted to get here as fast as possible.

But in her heart of hearts, she knew that was nothing but wishful thinking.

If time was the culprit, he could still have contacted her after he buckled in. Because surely – surely! – Plutarch had a working phone on the hovercraft?

He’s avoiding you, that’s why. For the same reason he’s avoided you this whole time. Guilt’s what kept him away, and guilt’s what’s bringing him back. Guilt and responsibility. Nothing more.

Forehead touching Amy’s temple, she steeled herself against the pain. Shoved it deep down where she didn’t have to deal with it.

He’s coming here now, she told herself. The twins will see their father again and that’s all that really matters.

She had no sooner thought it, before a sound broke through her haze. Snapped her into focus.

A turn of a key. The front door.

“Effs?”

“Here!” she called over Ian’s sobs. Her voice cracked at the end. “We’re in the nursery.”

“Dada!”

Ian wailed when Haymitch walked through the door. The little boy held his arms out, face red and crinkled up. Haymitch dropped his bag and in the next heartbeat, he was by their side.

“It’s OK, sweetheart. You OK?” he said, voice shaky as Ian climbed into his waiting arms.

“Dada”, Ian sobbed into his beard.

“Yeah, pumpkin”, he mumbled and hugged him close. “Tell me all about it.”

Eyes on Amy, Haymitch held a hand out, but his daughter made a disgruntled noise – much like Katniss when she was in a mood. Face against mama’s neck she glared at him through the strawberry tresses of Effie’s hair.

Haymitch gave her little shoulder a helpless caress, rocking the crying boy in his arms.

“I missed you guys so much. I should’ve never left in the first place. I’m sorry. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

His eyes flitted to Effie’s, then away again. Too ashamed, he focused all his attention on the kids.

But Effie couldn’t look away. Unable to shake the dread building in her chest, she found her gaze locked on him.

No one could say Effie Trinket wasn’t used to Haymitch’s appearance in bad times, the worst of times, and yet the sight of her children’s daddy right here, right now, chilled her to the bones.

What’s happened to you?

He was sober. Sobered up. Like someone had dunked his head in a bucket of ice water until he regained consciousness. He even showered, and yet somehow – in combination with the broad daylight – it only made it worse.

Her eyes flitted to the bad road rash high on his cheek. Scabbed over. Angry and red. Like he’d slammed face-first into the gravel.

There were scratches on his face and arms. Fresh ones. Like he’d bolted through the woods with no direction, while branches clawed at his tender skin.

His hair was a battlefield. Wild tufts jutted out where they shouldn’t. Thinner in places, where his fingers had dug in and yanked during some horrible panic attack, making the scalp peek through in angry blotches.

And his hands. Those fingers, rested against their pure little boy’s back.

Clutching Amy, Effie’s breathing began coming in quick, shallow short-breaths.

Despite several washes, his nails, bitten to raw, bloody stumps, were ringed in black.

Not coal dust.

Dirt. Cold black earth.

What did you do?

What kind of things had he hallucinated? Where had he gone in the dead of night?

“Effs?” Her gaze flitted to his, heart pounding in her chest. He reached out one of those hands and she wanted to run, flee, and take the twins with her. But his eyes, though runny and blood-shot, were still his eyes; this man the same man who used to tell his children goodnight every day.

A strange noise came over her lips and before she knew it, she burrowed into him. Face pressed against his chest. He wrapped his free arm around her, and with Ian on Haymitch’s hip and Amy on Effie’s, they clung to one another. Sought shelter in the familiar form of each other. A body of four people.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mumbled the words as his lips found them one by one. Ian’s temple. Amy’s cheek. Effie’s forehead. Whatever skin he could reach.

Effie squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of his voice. Didn’t want to imagine the amount of screaming needed to make it hoarse like that.

They parted only when Ian squirmed, his sobs quieter now, as he clung into his father.

Effie cuddled her daughter close. Ran a hand up and down the girl’s back when she asked,

“Plutarch’s not joining us, is he?” As grateful as she was to the man, for flying Haymitch all this way, she was in no shape or form ready to shoulder the role of hostess. The former Head Gamemaker would expect dinner and an audience while he filled the space with news and unsolicited advice, over coffee and brandy.

“No, he’s on his way back to Ten”, Haymitch said. “Never wanted to come here in the first place. ‘Too busy’. But I told him: ‘I helped win a war for you, Plutarch. You will do this for me’.”

Effie let out a little laugh, then her face immediately crinkled up. Her hand went to Ian in Haymitch’s arms. She smoothed his hair back but the little boy whimpered, rubbing a fist into his eye, staining himself with tears.

“I can’t figure out what he needs.”

Haymitch dropped a kiss to his son’s forehead, rocking the boy close. “Kid feels warm”, he said, lips just brushing his skin. “He’s got a temperature?”

“Yes, a mild one.” Effie adjusted Amy a little higher on her hip. “I consulted with a nurse, over the phone. She said it’s normal with teething and that I shouldn’t worry. Just keep an eye on it.”

“Hm.”

Resting the back of his fingers momentarily against Ian’s cheek and forehead, Haymitch seemed to think something over. Then he asked, focused fully on the child:

“Ian, baby, can you tell daddy where you’re hurting?”

The boy sniffed, then hid his face in his father’s neck, whining. Haymitch turned to Effie.

”Has he had any diarrhea? Loss of appetite?”

“Um, yes. A little.”

“Her?” He nodded toward their daughter.

Effie shook her head numbly. Without another word, Haymitch turned toward the changing table.

“What’s wrong?” Effie asked, in alarm.

“There we go”, Haymitch said as he helped Ian onto his back. The boy wiggled against the soft stuffing, bottom lip jutting out. “Does your tummy hurt, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked and inched up the shirt hem of the boy’s playsuit. His fingers skimmed around the boy’s belly button and the lower part of his stomach. “Is belly owie? Here?”

He gently prodded a spot, and the boy gave a sharp wail, breaking into a fresh wave of tears.

“What’s the matter with him?” Effie all but cried out. Haymitch lifted his son up. Cradled him close as he turned back to her. His voice remained calm but his eyes betrayed him when he said,

“We better get down to the hospital.”

[hayffiebird]

I have seen so many Hayffie fics with the trope “Effie fell first, Haymitch fell harder” and don’t get me wrong- it’s an absolute beautiful piece of fiction. 

This idea that prim and proper Effie Trinket slowly starts to develop feelings for her Mentor, but she knows nothing can happen between them because he doesn't feel the same and also it could put him in such grave danger, so she can’t risk it. So she keeps and cradles and nurtures her little crush for years and watches Haymitch grow older and angrier and tries to be a good friend and pretend that that's enough for her

And then one day Haymitch looks at her a little too long, maybe sees her comforting one of their kids the night before the arena, and love just slams into him like a goddamn freight train. He can’t breathe and he can’t think and he stumbles into his room, smashing into doors and walls on the way, and drowns himself in liquor and tries to reason with himself.

Effie has kept her secret crush on Haymitch for many years. Haymitch barely lasts the night before he’s stumbling to her, confessing and crying and they spend the night on the floor together, just holding on. 

But! I give, for your humble review, Haymitch falls first and Effie falls harder. 

Haymitch, who is grieving Lenore Dove, and sees Effie stay at his side through it all. She’s the one he wakes up to when he has nightmares, she’s the one who makes him coffee when he has a hangover, and she’s the one who is there for him. She’s always had his trust, but as the years go on he finds himself opening up to her, and she to him. And with every new piece of information he learns about her, he starts to fall. And he knows nothing can happen- because he’s district and she’s capitol- but still. He treasures every smile she throws his way, nurturing his love with the sparkle in her eyes and coos sweet promises to it every night. He is completely infatuated with her, but there’s nothing to be done. 

And then there’s Effie, who at first forbade herself from growing attached to him because he was going to die but she knew he’d live because she couldn't stop herself from having faith and then she got to keep him, and its so selfish, she knows, but she got to keep him. And Effie watches him grow older, sees as he grows more into himself, and also how he grows angrier and drunker, but not around her. Never around her. And Haymitch grows bolder over the years, because his crush isn't going away so why not have fun with it, and his touches linger, he invades her space more frequently, and he steals glances every chance he gets. Effie just laughs the flirting off, or on occasion reciprocates it, but it isn't until they’re both decently older that it just overwhelms her. Maybe they’re sitting at dinner together, maybe they're at one of Plutarch’s party and he’s with the other mentors and she’s hovering by the door with the Escorts, and they’ve been trading grins and eye rolls and winks all night, because its what friends do, and then Plutarch says something and Haymitch is tossing her a grin/eye-roll combo and it just… pulls Effie under. She excuses herself, stumbling into the hall and she can’t think straight. 

Haymitch nurtures his love for Effie for many years. Effie runs after him when he steps off the train at District 12 only a week later and confesses, tears streaming down her face, wig askew, and doesn't give him any time to react before jumping back on the train and sailing away. Haymitch stands there watching until not even a cloud of dusk remains, and Effie sinks to the floor in front of the door and weeps. 

Um. That got away from me hella but uh. Yeah. I think you get it. :)

[hayffiebird]

✨ art ✨

[hayffiebird]

I love that someone actually did bring him to his doppelgänger statue.

(It was months ago.)

[hayffiebird]

“Haymitch and Effie made out in the elevator!!!” (I scream as they drag me into the asylum.)

[hayffiebird]

Instruments for rebellion...

[hayffiebird]

Propaganda i am not falling for:

• Katniss was Covey — just because Burdock was Lenore’s distant cousin and she knew how to sing.

• Haymitch and Effie’s romantic relationship coming from a violent place of anger, reciprocal disgust and merely physical desire was better than they coming from a place of mutual respect and resentment

• writing Haymitch as a soft teenager who was surrounded by love for his friends and family instead of a bittier young boy,was taking him out of character

• Haymitch only helped Katniss cuz of Burdock

• Asterid could have fought her clinical depression to be a better mom for Katniss and Prim [which doesn’t mean she wasn’t to blame for her neglectful behavior

• Lenore Dove and Haymitch would’ve gotten happily and safely married if he had never been reaped, even though she had the undeniable tendency of doing things that would eventually get herself and all of her loved ones killed by the government somehow

• Katniss and Gale would ever get married

• Snow only did what he did with Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta because of his anger for Lucy Gray and how he associated everything from twelve wirh her.

• Effie was a better character when she was dumb

• Katniss and Peeta would have falling in love anyway, even if the reaping hadn’t thrown them together [in terms of properly knowing each other]

• The seam would have managed to save a lot of the cultural traditions of their old indigenous ancestors

• Haymitch and Finnick didn’t know about the hummingbird operation and what it implied.

• Effie knowing the danger of her position and actually not wanting to be part of the Game killed her character, because it makes her a selfless person.

• haymitch being drunk and hallucinating with an probably inaccurate versions of his dead love was healing, and it’s indication of love and not a fucked up trauma response from a severely depressed man

• Gale’s love for Katniss would have lasted as much as it did if she hadn’t being reaped for the Games because he was an obsessed weirdo and not just a teenager boy wirh a totally normal and justifiable crush on his childhood friend who hunted with him

• Effie would accept being the other woman for Haymitch, just because “she loved him so much”

• Everyone in the Capitol had the same means of educating themselves to understand the problematic behind a system they had been trained to see as the only normal reality they would ever see in their lives

• Caeser Flickerman was not evil

[hayffiebird]

A sobering up Haymitch + Effie without make-up is my Roman Empire and 3AM fanfic spiral.

So anyways new edit 👀

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 57

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay (Canon divergence) Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie becomes a fixture in Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is rekindled. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile, Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something which will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. READ MORE

Chapter 57, Out of the ashes, into the fire

*ring ring*

Hello? McCoy residence.

Sae? *twins crying in the background* It’s me.

Effie! What a lovely surprise.

*chokes back a sob* I’m sorry. I know it’s really early. I just didn’t know who else to call!

That’s quite alright, my girl. Of course you can call me. I’m always up with the sun, anyway. Why don’t you tell me what’s the matter, dear? Something about the children?

It’s everything! I don’t know what to do anymore! I feel like I’m letting them down all the time! Every day! No matter what I do there’s always someone hurting and crying. I tried vanilla essence. I tried ice and clove oil and nothing works! Not well enough.

Their schedule’s completely out of whack, none of us are sleeping and I can’t call Haymitch because he’s got his own problems. There’s just too little of me to go around! I only have two hands! What am I going to do, Sae? I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do! I need help!

OK. Effie. Breathe. Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna fix this, alright? First thing’s first: Do you have anyone nearby? Someone in the Capitol who can come be with you right now?

No. Everyone’s busy. I can’t cut their vacations short just because I don’t know how to take care of my own children! *sobs* I’m a horrible mother.

That’s just the exhaustion talking, dear. So you go ahead and brush those thoughts right off your mind, you hear? Listen. This is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna get dressed now and then I’ll head over to Haymitch’s place.

In the meantime, Katniss or Peeta will call you up while I put Haymitch on the next available train. I’ll get back to you after and then I’ll stay on the phone with you for as long as you need me.

*draws a shaky breath* What about the diner?

I’ll ask Hazelle or one of my kids to put up a note. “Closed until further notice”.

You can’t do that …

I can and I am. You’re more important, and that’s final. You would’ve done the same for either of us. What else is family for?

What if he won’t come? I’ve left over a dozen messages but all he did was unplug the phone, or … I don’t know, tore it out the wall again?

If he won’t come, I will.

He promised he wouldn’t do this! He promised!

I know. But whatever happens, you won’t have to carry this all on your own. Not anymore. And he will come, Effie. I’ll see to it. If I so have to cram him into an envelope and mail him to you myself.

*gives a tearful laugh* OK. OK …

You’re not alone, my girl.

xXx

Not alone.

Rocking the twins in her arms, one child on each hip, Effie paced the nursery. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Amy’s cries had softened to sniffles, but the tear stains were still fresh on her cheeks. She held the nape of Effie’s t-shirt for support with one fist. The goose stuffie dangled from the other.

Ian had nestled against mama, head heavy on her shoulder. Sobs racked his little body and every now and again a whimper escaped into the crock of her neck. Weak and exhausted.

Eyes brimming with hot tears, Effie whispered soft words of comfort into their skin.

Everything, from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet, ached by the exertion of carrying them both.

Her body felt like it was being ripped apart, limb by limb. It was like her veins pumped liquid fire instead of blood, frying her alive from the inside out.

But she knew, if she put the children down, it would only set them off again, making everything ten times worse.

“Dada will be here soon”, she murmured, as much to herself as to them. “Dada’s coming home.”

Sae made it all happen. She was never one to sit idly by when someone was in trouble.

“So, I’ve talked with Haymitch now”, she said the first time she called. “He’s packing as we speak. The train leaves in less than an hour. Is there anything in particular you need?”

“OK. Bit of a change of plans”, she said, the second time. “He just got off the phone with Plutarch Heavensbee. The man’s shooting a documentary in District 10 and has promised to give Haymitch a ride over. By hovercraft. That’ll reduce the travel time by almost half.”

“Haymitch told me to tell you, not to worry”, she said, the third time. “They’re in the air now and will arrive at the Capitol around 4PM.”

Sweet Sae. What would she do without her? What would any of them do?

The old lady had welcomed Effie as one of the family, from the get-go. A bond that only grew stronger after the birth of Effie’s and Haymitch’s children.

Effie never quite felt deserving of it. Wasn’t at all used to it. Mrs Q’s love and care was always conditional, and Sae McCoy – Louella’s mother – had every right to hate Effie Trinket because of what she’d done during the Games and because of where she came from.

Only, she didn’t. She never had.

Next to Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta Sae was the one person who truly made Effie feel at home in the district.

That summer after her overdose, on days when just getting out of bed felt too great an obstacle, Sae would come over, unbidden, bringing a still-warm casserole, homemade ginger and lemongrass cordial and fresh flowers from her garden.

Talking about this and that, never expecting an answer, the old woman pulled the curtains apart and left the window ajar, allowing birdsong to flutter in. All in all making her feel like: not the enemy. Someone precious. Worthy of care.

Since then, Effie had been over at the McCoy’s several times. For dinner and tea. That’s where she first saw the framed photo, seated on the mantlepiece. When Snow’s bombs came raining down over Twelve, it was one of the few items Sae wouldn’t leave behind.

Louella. The little girl from Haymitch’s Games.

Out of respect for the family’s grief, Effie never mentioned the child but it soon dawned on her that – unlike Haymitch – Sae didn’t mind talking about her.

Especially with those close to the girl, who never knew her. When a grandchild or daughter-in-law wondered about Louella, Sae answered all questions asked.

“It’s like when you light candles in memory of the people you love”, she told Effie. “That’s what I do when I remember Louella. I light a candle for her in my mind, until she’s like a vast field of fireflies, all the way to the horizon. She would have liked that image.”

If only some of Sae’s outlook on life could rub off on Haymitch, Effie thought. Either way, there was comfort in the fact that even though she, Effie, wasn’t there to check on him, at least Sae was. One of the few people left in his life who knew the family he’d lost.

Thanks to her, the phone and the widescreen had been alive with kind faces and reassuring voices all throughout the day.

Sae had sung the twins their favorite songs. Those same melodies Haymitch used to play on the piano. Music they’d listened to, since before they were born.

Peeta read to them, encouraging the few words Amy and Ian had in their vocabulary. Katniss brought stories from the woods. Stories and treasures she’d salvaged from its green embrace.

Even Hazelle checked in a couple of times. And the kids. Posy built staggering towers of letter blocks and then tilted them over, to the twins’ never-dying glee.

With their help, the two year olds settled in a bit, allowing Effie to rest her arms – if only a moment. At this point, every second was appreciated.

In the last hour though, the screen was black. They all agreed it was wiser to keep the line open, in case Haymitch called.

But he didn’t.

As time ticked closer and closer to 4PM, Effie’s eyes kept drifting to the clock on the wall.

She was so grateful she could burst that Sae kept her in the loop, but … why didn’t Haymitch do it himself? Why use Sae for a messenger instead of giving her the information first-hand?

Because he was in such a hurry, she tried and reasoned with herself. He wanted to get here as fast as possible.

But in her heart of hearts, she knew that was nothing but wishful thinking.

If time was the culprit, he could still have contacted her after he buckled in. Because surely – surely! – Plutarch had a working phone on the hovercraft?

He’s avoiding you, that’s why. For the same reason he’s avoided you this whole time. Guilt’s what kept him away, and guilt’s what’s bringing him back. Guilt and responsibility. Nothing more.

Forehead touching Amy’s temple, she steeled herself against the pain. Shoved it deep down where she didn’t have to deal with it.

He’s coming here now, she told herself. The twins will see their father again and that’s all that really matters.

She had no sooner thought it, before a sound broke through her haze. Snapped her into focus.

A turn of a key. The front door.

“Effs?”

“Here!” she called over Ian’s sobs. Her voice cracked at the end. “We’re in the nursery.”

“Dada!”

Ian wailed when Haymitch walked through the door. The little boy held his arms out, face red and crinkled up. Haymitch dropped his bag and in the next heartbeat, he was by their side.

“It’s OK, sweetheart. You OK?” he said, voice shaky as Ian climbed into his waiting arms.

“Dada”, Ian sobbed into his beard.

“Yeah, pumpkin”, he mumbled and hugged him close. “Tell me all about it.”

Eyes on Amy, Haymitch held a hand out, but his daughter made a disgruntled noise – much like Katniss when she was in a mood. Face against mama’s neck she glared at him through the strawberry tresses of Effie’s hair.

Haymitch gave her little shoulder a helpless caress, rocking the crying boy in his arms.

“I missed you guys so much. I should’ve never left in the first place. I’m sorry. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

His eyes flitted to Effie’s, then away again. Too ashamed, he focused all his attention on the kids.

But Effie couldn’t look away. Unable to shake the dread building in her chest, she found her gaze locked on him.

No one could say Effie Trinket wasn’t used to Haymitch’s appearance in bad times, the worst of times, and yet the sight of her children’s daddy right here, right now, chilled her to the bones.

What’s happened to you?

He was sober. Sobered up. Like someone had dunked his head in a bucket of ice water until he regained consciousness. He even showered, and yet somehow – in combination with the broad daylight – it only made it worse.

Her eyes flitted to the bad road rash high on his cheek. Scabbed over. Angry and red. Like he’d slammed face-first into the gravel.

There were scratches on his face and arms. Fresh ones. Like he’d bolted through the woods with no direction, while branches clawed at his tender skin.

His hair was a battlefield. Wild tufts jutted out where they shouldn’t. Thinner in places, where his fingers had dug in and yanked during some horrible panic attack, making the scalp peek through in angry blotches.

And his hands. Those fingers, rested against their pure little boy’s back.

Clutching Amy, Effie’s breathing began coming in quick, shallow short-breaths.

Despite several washes, his nails, bitten to raw, bloody stumps, were ringed in black.

Not coal dust.

Dirt. Cold black earth.

What did you do?

What kind of things had he hallucinated? Where had he gone in the dead of night?

“Effs?” Her gaze flitted to his, heart pounding in her chest. He reached out one of those hands and she wanted to run, flee, and take the twins with her. But his eyes, though runny and blood-shot, were still his eyes; this man the same man who used to tell his children goodnight every day.

A strange noise came over her lips and before she knew it, she burrowed into him. Face pressed against his chest. He wrapped his free arm around her, and with Ian on Haymitch’s hip and Amy on Effie’s, they clung to one another. Sought shelter in the familiar form of each other. A body of four people.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mumbled the words as his lips found them one by one. Ian’s temple. Amy’s cheek. Effie’s forehead. Whatever skin he could reach.

Effie squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of his voice. Didn’t want to imagine the amount of screaming needed to make it hoarse like that.

They parted only when Ian squirmed, his sobs quieter now, as he clung into his father.

Effie cuddled her daughter close. Ran a hand up and down the girl’s back when she asked,

“Plutarch’s not joining us, is he?” As grateful as she was to the man, for flying Haymitch all this way, she was in no shape or form ready to shoulder the role of hostess. The former Head Gamemaker would expect dinner and an audience while he filled the space with news and unsolicited advice, over coffee and brandy.

“No, he’s on his way back to Ten”, Haymitch said. “Never wanted to come here in the first place. ‘Too busy’. But I told him: ‘I helped win a war for you, Plutarch. You will do this for me’.”

Effie let out a little laugh, then her face immediately crinkled up. Her hand went to Ian in Haymitch’s arms. She smoothed his hair back but the little boy whimpered, rubbing a fist into his eye, staining himself with tears.

“I can’t figure out what he needs.”

Haymitch dropped a kiss to his son’s forehead, rocking the boy close. “Kid feels warm”, he said, lips just brushing his skin. “He’s got a temperature?”

“Yes, a mild one.” Effie adjusted Amy a little higher on her hip. “I consulted with a nurse, over the phone. She said it’s normal with teething and that I shouldn’t worry. Just keep an eye on it.”

“Hm.”

Resting the back of his fingers momentarily against Ian’s cheek and forehead, Haymitch seemed to think something over. Then he asked, focused fully on the child:

“Ian, baby, can you tell daddy where you’re hurting?”

The boy sniffed, then hid his face in his father’s neck, whining. Haymitch turned to Effie.

”Has he had any diarrhea? Loss of appetite?”

“Um, yes. A little.”

“Her?” He nodded toward their daughter.

Effie shook her head numbly. Without another word, Haymitch turned toward the changing table.

“What’s wrong?” Effie asked, in alarm.

“There we go”, Haymitch said as he helped Ian onto his back. The boy wiggled against the soft stuffing, bottom lip jutting out. “Does your tummy hurt, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked and inched up the shirt hem of the boy’s playsuit. His fingers skimmed around the boy’s belly button and the lower part of his stomach. “Is belly owie? Here?”

He gently prodded a spot, and the boy gave a sharp wail, breaking into a fresh wave of tears.

“What’s the matter with him?” Effie all but cried out. Haymitch lifted his son up. Cradled him close as he turned back to her. His voice remained calm but his eyes betrayed him when he said,

“We better get down to the hospital.”

[hayffiebird]

( post the victory tour party bc I know it to be true ) reference used below cut is from Angels with Dirty Faces