The Need for Speed

by Peetabreadgirl

Race car driver, Peeta Mellark, is chasing his first racing title, but along the bumpy road he ends up lost, stuck in Panem Springs where he meets an enchanting, silver-eyed trophy of a different kind.

I hated this about 8,000 words in, but after some revamping and another 5,000 words (that did the trick) I now love it and hope you do, too! Lots of hands on this one, inmyfavor helped me remember things that I could incorporate from the movie, jamiesommers23 gave me some awesome feedback and helped me get more focused, abbythebear, who is not a 'bear' at all, was amazing with encouragement and just general silliness as I was writing. She would pop in to my doc anytime I needed a quick opinion! Bubblegum23, as always, is a rock when I need a no-nonsense beta. She unrepentantly slashes my crap and replaces it with her perfect words and ways of writing. Basically she makes it better! And the incomparable titania522, who I say, and will say forever, is everyone's cheerleader and a great mentor when it comes to writing! She offered plenty of advice for this one and I bothered her waaaaaay too much! But she was lovely about it every time. All you girls are awesome and I've enjoyed getting to know each of you!

P.S. If anyone gets emotional during this little story, I would like to hear about it. :)

P.P.S. If you don't like this, keep it to yourself. My ego is fragile. :) (I'm kidding) I want to hear what you think!

A retelling of Disney/Pixar's Cars, Everlark style

---

The roar of the crowd was thunderous in Peeta Mellark's ears. The engine rumbled beneath him as he waited for the green flag to drop, signaling the beginning of the race. His left hand gripped the fixed steering wheel tight enough to whiten the flesh around his knuckles, while the right hand was poised over the gear-shift, ready to leave his competition in the wake of his smoking tires.

Peeta's right foot tapped the gas pedal, the left holding the clutch steady, the need for sudden speed ready to spill over like a dam after a torrential flood.

Three.

Two.

One.

He released the emergency brake, spurring his lightning-quick, Dodge Viper into motion. The squealing of rubber against pavement was like sweet music to his ears, lulling him into a concentration not easily broken.

Peeta wanted this. He wanted it badly. Coming in second to Cato Andersson in last month's Trident 500 in District 4 had been a jagged pill to swallow, since he had been picked as the favorite according to the Capitol Insider. He'd only been racing for two years and was a relative newcomer to the sport, but he'd wanted to strike quickly and make a name for himself. The taste of defeat was foul in his mouth when he had been overtaken by Andersson in the last mile. He was beaten out by mere inches.

But not this time.

Peeta smiled to himself. This time, losing was not an option, and his victory would come in this, the greatest car chase known to the racing world. He glanced in his rearview mirror, looking for the infamous number 1 emblazoned on Cato's dull, raven-colored GT Mustang. Not seeing him, Peeta somehow still knew his nemesis was lurking in his blind spot. In an effort to quiet the nerves threatening to melt his steely resolve, Peeta conjured up images of himself accepting the most prestigious of awards, the Capitol Cup, which he hoped would be on its way to gracing the mantle of his living room by the end of the day.

Three and a half hours and six pit stops later, Peeta was only nine laps from certain victory and subtle revenge of his last encounter with Andersson. He grinned to himself at the thought of wiping that antagonistic smirk off the racing god's face. He'd had enough of Cato's cocky attitude since he met him at his first event when Peeta had just been looking for a friendly welcome into the sport. Instead, Cato had unabashedly let Peeta know he was king of the mountain, and no one was going to knock him off until his reign was completed.

Peeta had given Cato the benefit of the doubt that day, allowing him a second chance at their next race, but he hadn't fared any better. Cato had taken to calling him "Bread Boy," after his low-budget sponsor's bakery advertisement, which pictured a fluffy loaf of white bread wearing a chef's hat, was painted on the sides of his racecar. Peeta hated the sponsor's logo, and the fact that he now had to be the face of Krusteze Bakery, but they were the only company that had been willing to take a chance on him in the beginning of his racing career. He knew he should be thankful, but he was ready to move on to bigger and better endorsements and that was exactly what would happen if he were to win this race.

With five laps to go, Peeta could now see the hood of Cato's midnight-colored car out of his passenger window. This should be interesting, Peeta thought, his heart beginning to beat wildly, as if all the laps before these last few had been as boring as the toast he made from his sponsor's bread. Peeta didn't waver in his strategy, but kept his focus dead ahead, aiming for that checkered flag he knew claimed the finish line.

Peeta could see Cato's car inching up on him, and now, with one lap to go, they were in a dead heat, bumpers aligned, vying for dominance. Peeta gritted his teeth and let out a guttural cry, willing his Viper to extend its stride and stretch its neck forward like a heaving thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby.

Peeta could hear the cheers of his pit crew through the earbuds in his helmet as he crossed the finish line. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest and he let out a relieved breath from his burning lungs as he listened to his crew celebrating the victory, though he wasn't yet certain he had won. He pulled his sunset colored car back into the space just off the inside of the track designated for their team and hauled himself out the window. The crew rushed him, ceremoniously lifting him off the ground in praise, jostling him around on their shoulders and shouting excitedly.

Peeta could faintly hear his chief mechanic, Beetee, yelling something at them. No one else seemed to hear him so he let out a long, loud whistle that demanded everyone's attention, including the two teams on either side of them. The group set Peeta down, and they turned in the direction of Beetee's gaze, observing Cato Andersson's team in the same type of celebration they had just engaged in.

All eyes turned to the giant screens located at each end of the two-and-a-half mile track. Displayed in high definition for all to see was the photo finish, showing the bumpers of the two cars aligned so perfectly that there was no clear indication of who came out number one.

Peeta's heart sank with the heavy disappointment that he may not have won after all.

---

"Well, well, Mr. Mellark, that was a very nice race. Too bad you aren't taking home the trophy today." Peeta turned to see Mr. Snow, the president of Panem Racing, walking toward him, a sly grin on his face, his white hair stiff despite the warm breeze.

"Thank you, Sir. Yes, it is a shame. Maybe I'll be taking it home in two weeks," Peeta replied, trying to be confident in the man's presence. Mr. Snow was not known for his pleasantry and kindness. He was an ambitious man, and anyone who got in his way suffered the consequences.

"I doubt it." Snow's words caught Peeta off guard. The elder man smirked wickedly at the confused expression on Peeta's face. "Oh, come now, Mr. Mellark. You are aware that Mr. Andersson has made Panem Racing billions of dollars with his fame and fable? The young boys want to be him, the young girls want to marry him, and everyone wants to see him on the track. Ticket sales, merchandise, sponsors, it all affects what I have built, and you, Mr. Mellark, are not fit to be the King of my mountain. You would do well to remember that. Have a good day, now." Snow walked away without a backward glance, leaving Peeta dumbfounded at the implications of his words.

---

Peeta cringed at the ceaseless flashing of bright bulbs, forcing him to don his gold aviators. He ran an anxious hand through his hair, further disheveling his straw colored mane. He was seated next to Cato, both of them behind a long table on the podium, being bombarded with questions by the media about the outcome of the race.

"Mr. Mellark," Caesar Flickerman, an annoying talk show host known for asking probing questions, asked him, "How did you feel when you came across that finish line? Did you think you had won? How did you feel when you found out it was a tie? What do you plan to do in the next two weeks to get ready for the tiebreaker race at the Arena?"

Caesar's questions fell like painful rapid fire ammunition, and Peeta didn't know how he would remember them all. "Well, Mr. Flickerman-"

"Please, call me Caesar." The man's smile was seemingly genuine as he invited Peeta into first name basis, but the glint in his eyes suggested something more shallow.

"Okay, Caesar." Peeta tested the name, feeling disingenuous to the man as he said it. "I felt excited, like I knew I had given it everything and had a shot at the title. Obviously both of us thought we had won." The camera's continued to emit clicking sounds and bright streaks of light as writers furiously scribbled in their notepads and typed in their phones. "I can't deny it felt a little like all my tires got slashed when I found out they were calling it a tie. I guess if I had given just a little more effort in that last stretch there would only be one of us up here." Peeta laughed good-naturedly at his statement, sending the two blonde, big-breasted groupies that followed him to all his races keening at the way his dimples punctuated his smile. He gave them a charming wink, and they giddily grabbed at each other to support of their weakening knees.

"In your dreams, Mellark," Cato said loud enough for everyone to hear. Cameras and flash bulbs doubled their speed at the seeming tension between the two racers. Peeta chose to ignore Cato's remark, instead focusing on Caesar's next question.

"So, you've been dubbed Lightning Mellark by your fans, the sports announcers, and most of the racing world. You've come close to winning a few big races, and it's not lost on us how quickly you've come onto the scene. What are your thoughts on that?"

"It's flattering, even though I'm still chasing my first title. I'm thankful for the fans and everyone in my corner, especially my pit crew. They've been like family to me. They believe in me more than anyone, so…" Peeta trailed off, satisfied with his answer, and breathed in relief as he watched the attention turn to Cato.

"Mr. Andersson, you've won every race you've entered this year. How is it you weren't able to put this one away?"

Peeta was thankful his questioning was over, but he had to remain on the podium while Cato fielded his own set of questions. His ears perked but he was able to maintain a nondescript face, even through his curiosity rose at how Cato would respond to the first inquiry.

"Well, I guess I've just been distracted lately, what with my girlfriend about to have our first baby and all. I may have fallen asleep at the wheel a time or two, you know what I mean?" Cato chuckled at his own joke while the audience joined in. Probably just to humor his bad manners, Peeta thought as he remembered to smile for the cameras that would capture Cato and him in the same shot.

After a few more questions for Cato, Peeta found himself at his trailer, his pit crew gone except for his driver. "Hey, Boggs. You ready to hit the road?" Peeta asked the burly, dark-skinned man.

"Guess so, Light-" Peeta held up a hand to stop him from invoking the nickname he hadn't chosen.

"You know I hate that name. But you'll be first to get permission to call me that as soon as I've earned it," Peeta offered to him with a slap on the back. "So how long do you think it will take to make the drive to the Arena?" The Arena was located across the country and was only used for the most important of contests. It drew enormous crowds and boasted some of the biggest events in the world.

"Oh, 'bout four days if we don't stop too much," Boggs said.

"Four days in a truck," Peeta repeated to himself, rubbing one hand over his face and back through his hair at the prospect of being stuck in the cab of Boggs's truck for half a week. "Alright. Let's do it," he said, jumping into the passenger side of the big, eighteen wheeler, painted to match the fading sunset colors of his racer. He wished he could fly, but he didn't want to leave Boggs all alone on a cross country drive. Plus, he wanted to be with his car at all times. It was his baby, after all.

His father had bought it with the intention of fixing it up and giving it to Peeta for his eighteenth birthday. He died the summer before Peeta's senior year of high school and wasn't able to finish restoring the car, but Peeta was able to take on the refurbishment, meeting all the Racing Industry's standards with his sponsor's investment. It took every dime, and a little more out of his pocket, but when it was all said and done, it was a piece of art on wheels.

Peeta and Boggs settled into a comfortable silence, afternoon turning to evening, evening turning to midnight, and the sounds of the road causing Peeta to nod off, but not before he had observed Boggs drinking his second Monster in an attempt to keep himself energized for the drive. After two days of stop and go driving and hardly any rest, Boggs pulled the semi off the highway, exiting towards Panem Springs.

"Are we stopping for the night?" Peeta asked.

"Yeah, we're making better time than I thought, and I'd like to get some good shut-eye if that's okay with you? The Monster drinks aren't doing it for me anymore." Boggs seemed like he was hoping for Peeta's agreement.

"Of course, whatever you need," Peeta said, releasing the latch of his seatbelt. "Safety first, right? We want to get there in one piece."

"Right," Boggs agreed. "You want to grab a quick meal at that diner over there?" Peeta looked to where Boggs was nodding, a light blue and white sign that lit up the letters 'Jo's iner', the D's bulbs obviously burned out, and the 'e' flickering, burdened with the same inevitable fate.

"Is there anywhere else?" Peeta asked, wary of the run down look of the place.

"Nope. Looks like the town's shut down to me, 'cept for that one," Boggs said matter-of-factly.

"Okay, then, let's go," Peeta said as he and Boggs walked toward the diner, which also doubled as a fueling station.

Once inside, they were greeted by a less than friendly hostess, whose nametag read 'Johanna'. She also turned out to be their waitress, and most likely their cook, considering how much time she spent in the back of the restaurant. Peeta noticed that he and Boggs were the only two patrons in the place the entire time they were there. After finishing their club sandwiches and fries, the safest thing on the menu they felt they could order, and leaving a less than deserved tip, Peeta and Boggs headed back to the truck to turn in for the night.

"Sleep well, Boggs. Don't worry about me in the morning. Just drive when you're ready. I think I'll stay in the trailer and try to mentally prepare until we get there," Peeta said.

"You sure, Boss?"

"Yeah. I'll call you if I need something," Peeta assured him.

WIth a nod of understanding, Boggs left to rest in the cab of the semi, while Peeta made his way to the trailer. His sponsors had spent a fair amount of money outfitting it with a small home-away-from-home area located in the front of the large container. It housed a twin-sized bed, a reclining chair, and small end table, a mini-fridge stocked with his favorite snacks and beer, a large flat screen television, viewable from both the bed and chair, and a tiny bathroom. It was everything he would need for the next forty-eight hours.

Lounging on the bed, Peeta flipped on the TV, looking for a distraction from the race and needing entertainment. He'd been dozing on and off for two days straight, and he wasn't tired in the slightest.

Nothing was on to keep his attention, so Peeta decided to go back into the diner for a slice of the chocolate pie he had eyed on top of the counter earlier. The bell jingled, announcing his arrival, and he made his way to the register just as the lights began to dim.

"We're closed for the night," the surly waitress from earlier called out to him.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know," was Peeta's reply.

"It's on the door. I assume you can read?" she said, continuing to walk toward the exit, shutting off lights as she went. Peeta glanced back at the door, just barely able to make out the tiny lettering of the restaurant's hours.

"Yeah, but it's kinda hard to see. I just wanted a slice of that chocolate pie I saw earlier," Peeta defended. The waitress looked him up and down, as if she were trying to decide something.

"You're not from around here." Her words were a statement rather than a question.

"Uh, no," Peeta pushed his hands into his pockets and pursed his lips, confirming what she already knew.

"You lookin' for a good time?" she asked with a glint of mischief in her eyes. The look on Peeta's face must have told her he'd taken her question the wrong way.

"I'm not a prostitute," she told him drolly, chomping her gum, a smile mimicking her mischievous eyes. She blew a bubble and popped it as though she was becoming bored with their conversation.

"I'm goin' over to the Hob. If you want chocolate, they've got a mean chocolate martini. Never tried it myself, that's for pussies - no offense," she added . "But it might help your chocolate craving."

"What's the Hob?" Peeta asked, not wanting to acknowledge her 'pussies' comment.

"It's the bar in town. Only place to get anything to drink in this God-forsaken place."

Peeta thought for a moment. He wasn't tired, and he would surely make it back to the trailer by the time Boggs left in the morning. Maybe he just needed a night to meet some new people and relax a bit with some beers and a game of pool. "Alright. Lead the way." He accepted her vague invitation by opening the door for her and waiting patiently while she locked up.

"Name's Johanna, but people round here call me Jo," she said as they walked around the corner to a shack that looked abandoned.

"I'm Peeta. It's nice to meet you, Jo," he said.

"Johanna," she corrected him. "You're not from around here." Peeta laughed, hoping she was making a very dry-witted joke since her face didn't soften in jest with her words.

"Are you sure this place isn't going to collapse down on us?" he asked her, spying the worn building they were walking toward and wondering what he was getting himself into. Johanna ignored his question, opening the rickety door and stepping aside for Peeta to see the dim lighting and hear the faint sound of pool balls knocking into each other. He grabbed the door up high and motioned for Johanna to go in ahead of him. "Ladies first."

"My, my, what manners you have," Johanna said in a fake Southern accent, clearly meant for use to mock his polite gestures, while waving her hand in front of her face as if it were a chinese fan. Peeta grinned good-naturedly at her careless humor, wondering what passed for manners around this place.

There were only a handful of people Peeta could see - two, young guys, who looked like they'd used fake I.D.s to get into the bar, were doing a crappy job of sinking the balls at the pool table, while a dark-haired, silver-eyed man stood behind the bar, a concentrated look on his face. Peeta wasn't much for noticing other men, but if he had to admit a guy was handsome, it would be the bartender. Peeta guessed he got whoever he wanted into his bed with ease..

A cute girl with wavy blonde hair and killer cleavage peeking through her v-neck shirt was seated at the bar, stirring a mixed drink with a straw. Her jean-clad legs were crossed in a sexy way, and Peeta thought he might have a fun night after all.

"Madge," Johanna said in greeting to the girl.

"Hey, Jo," Madge greeted her back. "How was work?"

"Same old. Well, except for this one here," Johanna replied as she hooked her thumb in Peeta's direction.

"Are you going to introduce us?" Madge asked her friend. Her smile was pretty and her eyes were blue, just like Peeta's.

"Madge, Peeta. Peeta, Madge," Johanna unceremoniously stated, never looking from one to the other.

"It's nice to meet you, Peeta." Madge extended her hand, and Peeta took it, noting the smoothness of her skin and her manicured nails.

"Same here," he responded.

"Hey, Romeo! Vodka cranberry," she ordered, earning a gruff look and snort from the bartender, who seemed to be eyeing Peeta suspiciously. Johanna turned to Peeta. "My friend would like a…?" she trailed off, raising her voice in question.

"I'll take a Shiner Bock."

"We don't have any of that stuff here, city boy. It's Bud or Bud Light," the bartender replied to him boorishly. Peeta grimaced at his two choices. "I'll have what she's having." He pointed to Jo.

He took a seat next to Johanna and listened as the two women made small talk, trying to ignore the stares he felt directed at him from the bartender. He wasn't sure what that guy's problem was.

"You waiting for Kat?" she asked her friend.

"Yep. Said she'd be here in about five," Madge answered, taking a sip of her drink. Peeta thought it was cute the way her pinky stuck out when she raised the glass to her lips. He could do a lot worse.

Forty minutes and three vodka cranberries later, Peeta was feeling freer and more relaxed than he had been in a long time. The two guys playing pool had abandoned the table, making their way up to the bar, and in their absence, Johanna had challenged him to a round and was currently wiping the floor with him. Madge stayed at the bar, in conversation with the bartender, whose name Peeta had learned was Gale. Peeta eyed the girl every now and then, getting a feel for the kind of conversation she was having with Gale. He didn't feel particularly jealous or anything, just curious about what their relationship might be.

Peeta leaned over the table, trying to find a good angle for the solid yellow ball that just didn't want to fall in any pocket. His concentration was interrupted as the door swung open, then slammed closed, bringing a rush of warm wind with it.

"Sorry I'm late, Madge!" Peeta heard a sultry, feminine voice say, and he realized it must be the girl Johanna and Madge had been waiting for. "Haymitch asked me to wash the engine of his stupid piece of crap Pinto before I left. Like washing the engine is going to magically make it not crap," she said, sounding annoyed. The small bar afforded Peeta the opportunity to hear everyone's conversations. His ears perked up that this girl was talking about cars, something he had loved all his life.

Placing the end of his pool stick on the floor and leaning into it for support, Peeta looked in the direction of the voices. His heart, feeling like it had suddenly sprouted wings, was now flying about in his chest at the sight of her next to that blonde girl, Maggie? Maddy? What was her name again? Peeta didn't remember.

"Hey, Catnip," the bartender said to her with a smile Peeta hadn't known he was capable of producing.

"For crying out loud, Gale, do you have to keep calling me that? It's been fifteen years! Knock it off." She sounded amusingly annoyed.

"I can't. You'll always be my catnip."

Catnip? What idiot calls a girl by the name of a cat treat? Maybe he can't get any girl he wants, Peeta thought. He noticed the way Gale looked at her, like they were more than friends, but the girl seemed to ignore his stares.

He couldn't see her face, but if the front was better than the back of her, Lord help him, he was a goner. Her hair, braided in a casually messy way, was slightly wet, and little wisps of it were curling down around her neck. Peeta watched in fascination as Madge reached up to remove a small patch of soap suds from some of the strands.

Her red, plaid shirt was cinched at the waist, allowing a fantastic view of her shapely ass, which her small, frayed denim shorts did little to hide. Her legs were long, lean and a perfect olive color that gave off a shimmery glow in the bar's lights. Peeta would have expected most girls dressed like her to wear heels or sandals, but not this girl. Her camel colored work boots, laced over the ankle, the kind he would wear if he were working on his car, gave away a very important, and very attractive quality about her.

Peeta sensed she was strong-willed, no-nonsense, and immaterial, not high-maintenance and perfectly put together like her friend. Megan? He still couldn't remember. No, this girl was just… perfectly her. In all his years of life, and especially in the last two years where he'd only had the most made-up, barbie doll groupies chasing after him, he couldn't recall ever coming across a girl as authentic as this one.

"You catching flies there, towny?" Peeta snapped his eyes back over to Jo, her face a mixture of discernment and humor. "Dude, your jaw was on the floor. Bats could have come flying out of it, it was so cavernous," she cackled as she rubbed chalk on the cue end of her pool stick. Peeta looked back in the direction of the beautiful girl to find her looking straight back at him. She quickly glanced away as soon as he made eye contact, going back to her conversation with Mary?, who glanced his way not long after her friend had. From what he could tell in the quick exchange, her face was pretty, but he wouldn't mind getting a closer look.

"You wanna meet her?" Johanna asked him.

"Who?" Peeta said, not looking at his pool partner and continuing to stare in the newcomer's direction.

"Um, the girl you're about to obliterate with your heat vision, maybe?" Johanna noted sarcastically.

Peeta looked at Johanna with mock disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about." He cleared his throat as the last syllable caught, causing his voice to crack. Johanna laughed, thankfully quieter this time.

"You are so obvious," she said, shaking her head at him. "Come on, I'll introduce you. It's not like you weren't going to meet her tonight anyway," she shrugged. "You're with me, and she's my friend."

Peeta followed Johanna back to the bar, Jo wedging herself in between the two girls and turning to face Peeta. "Katniss, this is my new friend, Peeta. Peeta, this is Katniss."

"Hi, Katniss," Peeta said in his most confident, practiced voice. He had been told a few times that his smile combined with his smooth timbre could wet the panties of any lady he chose to direct them toward.

He held his hand out to her. She looked down at it, and then back to his face. Her long lashes drew his gaze to her eyes. The color reminded him of shiny, silver bullets with the power to pierce him to his very soul. Her face was without a stitch of makeup and her perfect skin glowed despite the dimness of the room. He couldn't look away and barely noticed that she didn't shake his hand as he dipped it into his pocket, a nervous habit he had taken up after becoming famous, not wanting to have to touch people. But he definitely wanted to touch this girl. The staring contest ended when Katniss' eyes flitted away, and Peeta wondered what it would take to get Katniss' walls to come down.

Peeta was grateful to Johanna for casually mentioning Madge's name, helping jog his memory, and they chatted amiably, trying to include Katniss every now and then, who seemed to want to keep to herself. She cast some brief glances at him here and there, and after a few beers, Peeta noticed she appeared to be loosening up, judging by the way the stares she sent his way became longer.

"So, Peeta, what brings you to Panem Springs?" she asked him, her eyes aglow with curiosity. He noticed her eyes didn't quite meet his, landing somewhere slightly lower when he took a sip of his drink.

"Just passing through town, on my way to the Arena," he answered.

"The Arena?" Peeta sensed her curiosity rise further, and her eyes finally met his. He nodded his head.

"You like cars, then?" she continued the conversation.

"Ever since I was born. It's kind of a life long pursuit, rebuilding and driving amazing pieces of machinery," he admitted. They stayed on the topic of cars for a while, talking about everything from paint jobs to horsepower, and Peeta thought he caught Katniss relay a suggestive remark about engine sizes. She even laughed at one of his jokes.

"What's the difference between BMW's and porcupines?"

"I'm not sure?" Katniss responded, her question sounding confused.

"Porcupines carry their pricks on the outside." Peeta delivered the punch line with a straight face, waiting to laugh until he knew she thought it was funny.

To Peeta's delight, Katniss chuckled and slapped him playfully on the arm. She immediately apologized, saying it was a harder slap than she meant to give, but he didn't care. Any touch from Katniss was welcome. What Peeta failed to notice were the sideways stares and daggers firing from Gale's eyes.

More patrons had entered the little bar, making it seem even smaller, if that was possible, and very warm. The four of them made it back over to the pool table, and Katniss's chest was pushed flush against Peeta's as a group of people scooted by in the tight spot between them and the wall. She was so close he could smell a fresh, woodsy scent on her skin and hair. He found it oddly enticing.

He looked down at her, her skin flushed from the heat, noticing a small bead of sweat trailing down her chest, into the valley between her breasts. Dear God, he thought as he lifted his eyes, to keep from becoming aroused very quickly in front of what was probably the entire town, and Katniss being pressed up against him wasn't helping. Peeta thought long and very hard about his dead cat, Buttercup, being shredded by the neighbor's dog to keep it at bay.

As the crowd moved away from the pool table to keep from being stabbed by the end of the pool stick when Johanna's turn came around, the group found a little more space to move in. "You're up," Peeta remarked to his teammate. They had paired off so they all could play, Peeta with Katniss, and Johanna with Madge.

"This is going to be a tough one," Katniss noted as she spied the ball she needed to sink buried behind three others. She wobbled slightly making her way around the table, probably because of the six beers she'd consumed. Peeta shivered in disgust at the thought of drinking that many Bud Lights. He observed with rapt attention as Katniss took aim at the cue ball. She pulled the stick back and missed completely, striking nothing but air.

"A little help, partner," she said, looking to Peeta. He walked around the table, more than happy to be the one she asked for assistance. Katniss stayed positioned for another try, and Peeta wasted no time leaning over her toned body, glistening from the heat of the room and the drinks she'd consumed, to reach around and settle his arms on top of hers. He guided her movements so they were in sync with his, running the stick back and forth slowly over their joined fingers. Peeta felt Katniss suck in a breath as he rubbed his thumb over hers, testing the texture of her warm skin on his. Just as he was about to push the stick into the cue ball, Katniss rose off the table, pushing Peeta off of her. He stumbled backwards a little.

"I'm sorry, did I... was I hurting you?" Peeta asked her.

"No, you're just… It's warm in here, that's all," she said, rubbing the back of her neck, her face red with either heat or embarrassment. "And I'm not very good at pool. Maybe you should just play on your own."

"Okay, well, I can help you. I'm a pretty good teacher," Peeta said, trying to gain her trust.

"Let him help you, Brainless." Katniss rolled her eyes at the nickname Johanna used. Peeta had no idea what it meant, but he could see Jo's eyes waggle suggestively at Katniss.

"I don't really feel like playing any games right now," Katniss informed them, turning to leave. Peeta caught her arm, and she jerked at the touch. She eyed him with an intensity Peeta couldn't place. She looked like she either wanted to kill him, or jump him, but before he could let go, Peeta felt strong hands behind him clamping down on his shoulders, digging into his skin and dragging him away from her.

Peeta's balance was affected, but he was able to stay on his feet, despite the force of his attacker. He looked around to find the hard, steely eyes of the bartender and realized the looks he had been getting all night from him may not have been part of his imagination. Peeta noticed Gale was a good six inches taller than himself, and he silently thanked Boggs for teaching him some boxing moves in their daily gym routine.

"Don't. Touch. Her," he spoke through clenched teeth.

"Gale!" Katniss scolded him. "You're not my protector. I can handle myself!"

"Yeah, Gale, she can handle herself," Peeta mocked with a crooked smile.

"You don't belong here, bread boy." Peeta narrowed his eyes at Gale's comment.

"Where did you hear that?"

"I know who you are." Gale smiled smugly as he spoke.

"Who do you think he is then?" Johanna asked, challenging Gale.

"He's the pretty boy race car driver chasing a dream, always coming in second. Isn't that right, Lightning?" A gasp trickled through the crowd at Gale's news. Peeta sensed his blood beginning to heat at the dig, and he felt like he was in the Arena already. He had a fully attentive audience, a mean-spirited adversary, and a very attractive trophy he desperately wanted to win.

"I think they've got it all wrong," Gale continued. "They should be calling you Thunder."

"Why's that?" Peeta asked clenching his hands into fists at his sides, gearing up for something palpable lying just beneath the surface of their heated words.

"Because Thunder comes after Lightning. It's always second," Gale answered with a satisfied smirk. "Just. Like. You." Gale punctuated each one of his words with a finger to Peeta's chest.

Gasps and a few hollers came from the surrounding crowd as Peeta charged, knocking Gale backwards, sending him crashing into the table behind him. Beer bottles toppled and fell to the floor, bursting into jagged shards and spilling their contents.

"Stop!" he heard one of the girls shout, while some of the guys began to chant the word 'fight'.

Gale quickly rose from the table and lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Peeta's middle, shoving him backwards and onto the pool table. The balls left in play went flying in every direction at the force, causing people to take cover.

A few other men tried to separate them, but the two angry boys would not be parted, turning the small battle into a raging brawl as others began to join in. The last thing Peeta felt before everything went black was a hard crack to the back of his head.

---

"Breakfast!" Peeta winced as he slowly opened his eyes to the voice, the harsh daylight invading his pupils. He covered them with one hand, trying to peek through his fingers to see where he was exactly.

Peeta hadn't had a headache this bad since, well, he didn't think he'd ever had one quite like this. Sharp pains shot from the base of his neck up through his skull and landed somewhere around the crown of his head. He reached up, and his half-closed eyes squeezed tighter when he touched the sensitive knot he found there.

The brick walls were no giveaway, except that he knew it wasn't his trailer. The toilet in the corner seemed odd, but he still didn't fully understand his surroundings until he saw the steel bars that traveled from floor to ceiling. The man standing on the other side was a blur except for a wavy mop of rust colored hair and a drab, gray deputy's uniform, his bulging muscles tugging at the threads holding it together.

The deputy unlocked the cell door and walked into the confined space, setting a tray of oatmeal and weak looking coffee on the table next to Peeta's cot. "You hungry?" he said with a smile. Peeta sat up, spying the oatmeal and feeling his stomach turn at the sight.

"No thanks, man." Peeta shook his head slowly from left to right, trying to avoid upsetting his headache further, and wrapped his arms around his belly to hold in the nausea rippling through it. The deputy clapped him on the back and laughed, causing Peeta to grimace in pain.

"Hey look at the bright side - that was one heck of a fight! I've never seen anything as messed up as the Hob," he said, continuing to speak through his laughter. As much as Peeta wanted to feel better and laugh along with him, the implications of what could be happening began to manifest as the memory of the night before came back.

"What happened?" Peeta asked weakly, rubbing his palms into his eyes and trying to suppress the panic he felt.

"First of all, the name's Finnick Odair. My friends call me Finn, so you can, too. If you wanna be my friend, that is," he said, a hopeful look on his face. "Second, I have no idea. Just got a call about a fight down at the bar involving Lightning Mellark." Finnick answered excitedly, punching the air as if he'd been ringside for the event of the decade. He settled himself down in a chair adjacent to Peeta's cot and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "When I showed up, the owner pointed you out and filed charges for messin' up his bar."

"Charges?" Peeta yelped incredulously, looking up at Finnick for answers. His head swam with the motion.

"Yep. Disorderly conduct, destruction of personal property, disturbing the peace and Gale Hawthorne, the guy whose nose you broke, wants to press charges for assault." Finnick's smile fell a little for the first time since he'd arrived, but it didn't stay down for long. "Hey, don't be down on yourself. Things'll be right as rain, soon as your court appearance is over."

"Court!" Peeta bellowed, jumping to his feet and wishing he hadn't.

"Whoa-ho, calm down little buddy," Finnick replied jovially. Peeta's face contorted into disbelief at the man's calm demeanor and lack of dismay at his predicament, not to mention the gall he had to call Peeta little buddy.

"It shouldn't be any longer than two to five days, and-"

"FIVE days?" Peeta felt himself growing sicker by the second. "I can't be here for one day!" He cried out loud. "I have to be at the Arena in six days for press conferences, interviews, photo shoots, and sponsor commitments! I'm racing in the biggest race of this century." Peeta's chest felt like it was constricting, cutting off his airway. He couldn't believe what he was hearing and had to sit back down on the cot when a rush of faintness came over him. Black spots began to cloud his vision, and he felt hands gently guiding him to lay back on the cot. "Just rest," he heard Finnick say, giving up the struggle to remain conscious.

---

Boggs pulled the truck and trailer into the private parking lot of the Arena. It had only taken 36 hours and two stops since they left Panem Springs. He was proud that he had delivered his cargo safely to its destination, and for the first time in a day and a half he knocked on the door of Peeta's trailer to announce their arrival, hoping the racing sensation was mentally and physically ready to tackle the week ahead.

After a few knocks and still no answer, he moved to the cab of the truck to retrieve an extra set of keys that would allow him access to the private compartment.

"Is this Mr. Mellark's trailer?" Boggs turned to face the expressionless voice.

"Yes, Sir," he answered to the man in a three-piece bright, white suite with hair to match.

"Retrieve him, would you. I need to speak with him," he said.

Boggs began unlocking the door while trying to ignore the questions about who this man was and why he needed to see Peeta so urgently.

"I'll let him know you need to talk to him, Mr…?"

"Snow," the man said, his words dull and vacant. Boggs's stomach tightened upon hearing the name. He knew who the man was and a visit from him didn't necessarily mean good things.

"Yes, sir. Peeta will be right with you," Boggs promised, a sinking feeling in his gut. He hoped Peeta was ready to deal with whatever Snow was about to dish out.

Boggs entered the trailer, calling out to let Peeta know he was inside. Eyeing Peeta's cell phone on the end table but seeing no sign of his charge in the small room, he desperately knocked on the bathroom door, fear blooming quickly like an undesirable weed. No answer from the other side sent him into alarm, and he opened the unlocked door. Nothing.

He walked back outside, bypassing Snow, to check the carrier compartment where Peeta's car was stored, the president of Panem racing following close behind him.

"Is Mr. Mellark absent?" he inquired coolly, hands crossed behind his back, his eyes glaring down in what Boggs could only term as superiority.

Boggs did not reply, instead tearing into the trailer, calling anxiously for Peeta. In a state of shock, he exited the trailer.

"I don't know what happened," he spoke to himself.

"I take it he is not with you, then?" Snow asked.

"Last I saw him, he went into the trailer in Panem Springs. Told me he'd call for me if he needed something," Boggs ran through the events from two nights ago out loud.

"So you're saying Mr. Mellark is missing?" Snow asked.

"I don't know," Boggs replied, confusion evident in his voice and actions. "I'll head back to Panem Springs and-"

"No need," Mr. Snow dismissed the idea sternly. "I'll dispatch a rescue team for him. You can check in with them in a day or two. He will be found," Snow said shortly, his assurances ringing shallow in Boggs's ears. He sensed something in Snow's beady eyes that seemed pleased with Peeta's disappearance. He wasn't sure he could trust the man's rescue team, but he didn't want to chance defying him either. Mr. Snow had a cunning and ruthless reputation.

"Until then, my guards will see to it that you have everything you need while you wait for news of Mr. Mellark's whereabouts." To anyone else the words might have sounded like help, but to Boggs, it sounded like he was being put in a very comfortable prison with the eyes of Mr. Snow's watch dogs keeping him firmly in place.

---

Peeta woke before dawn, stretching out his stiff back to prepare for his second long day of labor at the Hob. The first one hadn't been easy. The destruction he'd found when he entered the building a day earlier was, indeed, shocking.

Many of the old, rickety tables had broken legs and were toppled over on the floor. Chairs were busted, the toilets had overflowed, and the entire mirrored wall behind the bar had been smashed to bits, taking with it every bottle of alcohol that was stored on its shelves. There was even a hole in the roof where someone had apparently 'yee-hawed' and fired off a few rounds from a pistol before Finnick had been called in. Peeta knew he wasn't responsible for the entire thing or much of it at all, but being the out-of-towner had its disadvantages.

The town's judge, Haymitch, who also owned the tire shop, had wanted to let Peeta go to avoid the media drawing a bunch of attention to their town, but as it turned out, that was an unpopular sentiment in the audience, which had been made up of most of the 100 or so residents. They demanded Haymitch sentence him to fixing up their only hangout.

In another terrible stroke of bad luck, the town's prosecutor happened to be the ruggedly handsome, now black-eyed and broken-nosed, bartender who had started the fight. Peeta chose to defend himself, as it would have taken another week for a defending attorney from the next town over to represent him. He figured he could at least pay a fine and get out of the hell-hole jail cell he was stuck living in when he wasn't patching up the bar.

Peeta had hoped Katniss would have come to the bar the first day so he could talk to her, but she hadn't. No one had come by to lift a finger or pay him any attention. His only company was Finnick, who was supposed to be guarding him, but instead wanted to chat constantly about where Peeta was from, who he was, what he did, his family and why would he let his blind cat out at night knowing he might stumble into the neighbor's yard.

Peeta felt that he and Finnick would know almost everything about each other by the time he completed his work at the Hob. Finnick was a nice enough guy, a little chatty and over enthusiastic, but it was infinitely better than spending time with Gale or one of the other residents that hated him for ruining their favorite haunt.

"Hey, Finn," Peeta started. "Have you seen Katniss since I've been here?"

"Since you've been here," Finnick motioned around the small room, "or since you've been here?" He finished off his question with a wide sweep of his hands indicating Panem Springs.

Peeta shook his head and grinned, deciding to simplify his wording. "Do you know where she is?"

"Well, she works over at the tire shop, but a lot of afternoons she spends out in the woods hunting." Finnick's information wasn't surprising to Peeta. Katniss seemed like the hard working, outdoors type of girl. She was his dream girl in the flesh. He barely knew her but going the last two days without so much as a glimpse of her left him feeling empty and hollow, especially knowing she was so close.

"Is she…" he hesitated, "does she-" Peeta couldn't bring himself to ask the question that was on his mind. As much as he wanted to know the answer, he also thought it would make him seem foolish and juvenile.

"What is it, little buddy?" Peeta hated the nickname Finnick had given him, but he had been nothing if not hospitable and friendly since Peeta had woken up in his cell, so he overlooked it. "You can ask me anything." Finnick's encouraging words were too tempting to keep the wonder inside.

"Is she with anyone?" Peeta finally let it out.

"Katniss? Nah, it's pretty slim pickin's around here." Finnick's answer made Peeta's hope soar. Surely he had a chance. He was pretty good with the ladies, but something about Katniss made him think it wasn't going to be as easy as bagging a groupie.

"I met my Annie on a dating website. Had to go two towns over just to get internet service. She lives across the country, but one day, I'll have enough money saved to ask her to marry me and move her out here," Finnick confessed. Peeta hadn't heard much of what Finnick said, his thoughts still on Katniss. He was certain of Gale's interest in her, and though she didn't seem to return the feelings, he still needed to know for sure.

"So she's not with Gale?" Peeta asked, deciding Finnick didn't seem like the type to ridicule him.

"No, but it's not for lack of trying. Gale's had it bad for Katniss since she was dropped here fifteen years ago." Peeta's interest piqued at Finnick's choice of words, but his query wasn't about Gale this time.

"Since she was dropped here?" he asked as Finnick looked over his shoulder, as if checking for eavesdroppers.

"Yeah, she doesn't talk about it ever," he lowered his voice to a whisper. "But from what I gathered when I moved here ten years ago, her dad and sister died in a car accident when she was eleven. Her mom couldn't handle the grief, so she drove Katniss here and dropped her off at her brother's place. You know Haymitch's tire shop?" Peeta nodded even though he didn't. "Said she'd come back when she felt like she could get her head together. It's been fifteen years." Finnick's face mirrored the empathy Peeta felt at the story. He knew all too well the pain of losing a parent, but he thought it would be ten times worse to have lost that parent because of abandonment.

"You like 'er, don't ya?" Finnick asked, realization dawning in his widening eyes.

"She's nice," Peeta said, looking away, suddenly feeling shy talking about his feelings. What could he say? That he hadn't stopped thinking about her since he'd first laid eyes on her? That she'd been the star of his dreams the last two nights and probably would be for every night thereafter? No, that would sound pathetic and weak. He was neither of those things.

Peeta went back to sanding some of the tables that hadn't been broken in half while Finnick began to serenade him quite loudly with an age old tune. "Peeta and Katniss, sittin' in a tree." Peeta sighed, rolling his eyes at the childish song.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Finnick completed the song, and gestured rocking a pretend baby in his arms. Apparently, he'd been wrong about Finnick being above ridiculing him.

"Hardy, har, har," Peeta said with an unappreciative glare in Finnick's direction, but it did nothing to deter him from a second round of the same song. He sighed, hoping no one was occupying space in the surrounding mile radius or they would surely hear Finnick's declaration of Peeta's feelings for Katniss.

"Are you done?" Peeta was finally able to ask Finnick.

"Nope," he admitted as he went into one more round. Peeta felt his head would explode if he had to listen to anymore. Just then, he noticed light filtering in through the doorway as it swung open, and he rushed to Finnick and clamped his hand over the deputy's mouth, muffling his outburst.

"Hey, Katniss!" Finnick said waving jovially and smiling through Peeta's fingers, making no move to free himself.

"Finn. Peeta," she greeted them cautiously. Peeta sensed her guard was up. "I just came to see how much needed to be done." She turned in a slow circle and let out a whistle. "This is a lot of work."

"Yeah. I really need to get moving on it if I'm gonna get to the Arena by the end of the week," Peeta said.

"You want some help?" Katniss asked. She dropped her arms from across her chest and stuck them in her back pockets. Peeta noticed her breasts jut out a little with the action.

"I would love some," he said, his mood perking up instantly. He was going to have to try real hard not to be distracted by the denim skirt that hit her mid-thigh and the white ribbed tank that wasn't see through but fit her like a sleek glove. She was wearing her work boots again, which made her seem even sexier.

"I've always wanted to go to a race," Finnick chimed in. "Hey, you got an extra ticket I can have? I've been dying to see that Cato Andersson!"

"Oh, yeah?" Peeta tried not to frown.

"Finnick!" Katniss scolded. "That's extremely rude."

"Oh! Sorry, man," Finnick apologized, looking embarrassed. "I'd want you to win, of course," he added.

"That's alright," Peeta assured him, the brief flare of anger melting away as quick as it had come. He wondered when he had become so mellow. Normally, a comment like that would have sent him storming off in frustrated anger. "I'll see what I can do, but first I need to get this job done so I can be released to go." Peeta noticed Katniss' face take on a determined scowl, and her arms defensively came back across her chest, although he wasn't sure why. Finnick, however, seemed the opposite, jumping at the chance he might be afforded by Peeta. He helped for about an hour and then had to run back to the jail to catch up on some paperwork, telling Peeta he trusted him enough to let him find his own way back to jail.

"So what's it like, racing cars and being famous?" Katniss asked.

"It has its disadvantages," he replied, trying to play down how he actually felt about it after hearing Finnick's account of her grim, stripped-down, life story.

"You don't like it?" Katniss asked in disbelief. "I figured a guy like you would thrive in the lifestyle of the rich and famous," she said sarcastically.

"A guy like me?" Katniss eyed him seriously as he spoke. "What kind of guy am I, exactly?" Peeta asked, feeling as though he was about to be annoyed with her opinion of him.

"Well," she began, facing him fully and crossing her arms over her chest in what seemed to be her go-to stance. "You're cocky, self-assured, overconfident, arrogant-"

"Those all mean the same thing, Katniss. And you hardly know me," he protested. "I...may be a little cocky," he then reluctantly admitted, as he reflected on his behavior. "But that can't be the only thing. You at least didn't seem to have such a poor opinion of me the other night. So what else do you think about me?" Katniss stayed silent and Peeta noticed her eyes roam over him. "You like what you see, don't you?" Peeta smirked knowingly. "Ka-chow," he said, releasing a pretend arrow in Katniss' direction.

"Ka-chow? What does that even mean?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing, and Peeta could tell she was annoyed.

"It means I caught you. You like me," he answered, striking the same defensive pose Katniss seemed to be so fond of.

"I think anyone would agree you're not ugly." Peeta grinned at her backhanded comment, but it quickly died as he caught her deepening scowl over his victory. She waved a hand at him with mild-looking disgust. "But you're just proving me right about the arrogance thing."

"Maybe you should give people a chance instead of judging the book based on its cover," he countered.

"Maybe you should get back to work, Lightning, if you want to make the race and keep your fans happy," Katniss replied smugly, turning her back to him.

Peeta was surprised when, instead of leaving, she went back to helping, sweeping behind the bar, cleaning up broken glass and then mopping up the sticky floor. It was hard for Peeta to keep his eyes off of her, especially when she leaned over, and for some reason, their tense altercation made him even more attracted to her. He purposely found things to do close to where she was working and when she would move away from him he would adjust his projects, finding his way to her again.

"Ow!"

Peeta snapped from his work when he heard Katniss cry out. He was at her side in seconds, assessing her injury. "What happened?" he asked with concern, taking her hand in his and inspecting the jagged line that was forming across the length of her middle finger, a red streak gravitating towards her palm to pool in the center.

"I missed a piece of glass, and when I leaned over to pick it up, it cut me," she replied, pulling her hand back.

"Let me see," Peeta urged her to give it back.

"It's fine. It just stings a little." Peeta began to dig in the drawers of the bar's counter, looking for something to clean and bind it with. "Gale keeps a first aid kit in there," Katniss said as she pointed to a drawer at the far end of the bar. Peeta located it and began cleaning her cut. "I can do it," Katniss assured him, trying to wiggle her hand free of his grasp. He gently tightened his hold.

"It's alright," Peeta responded. "I want to."

He looked up at her as he spoke the words, her stormy eyes seizing his attention. He couldn't think of anything except that he wasn't close enough to her. She cleared her throat nervously as she glanced down at her hand, reminding him of what he had been doing.

"Right," Peeta whispered, peeling his eyes from her face and refocusing on the wound. After a few minutes and some tender touches to bandage the cut, Peeta reluctantly let go of her. It was close to quitting time, and the sun was becoming less intense in the early evening sky.

"So, I'm gonna go. It's getting kind of late," Katniss said, taking a few steps towards the door. Peeta panicked, not wanting her to leave.

"Stay," he blurted out. He regretted the way it sounded, like he was desperate for human contact. "I mean, I like being around you. I've never known anyone like you."

"Peeta, we've only known each other a few days, and you're leaving in less than a week. It's probably for the best if we don't spend time together." Peeta sensed disappointment in her tone.

"Why not?" he asked, forcing an issue she didn't seem to want to talk about.

"Because," she replied weakly. Peeta closed the gap she had created between them until they were just inches apart, whispering into the still of the bar. "That's not an answer, Katniss."

Her eyelids fluttered closed and she took in a deep breath. Peeta reached up to trail his fingers across her smooth, flushed cheek. Now seemed as good a time as any to do what he'd been wanting to do since the night he first laid eyes on Katniss.

Peeta slowly moved his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, gently tangling his fingers in her hair at the base. He leaned his face toward hers, until their foreheads and noses were perfectly aligned and touching. "Katniss," Peeta breathed her name.

"Mmm?" she mumbled without opening her mouth or her eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you now."

He felt Katniss nod her head slightly against his, and it was all the permission he needed to faintly touch his puckered lips to hers. Peeta lingered there for a few seconds, enjoying the feel of her mouth against his, before moving both of his hands to cup her face. He began leaving a trail of sweet kisses across her lips and cheeks, making his way down past her jawline to her neck. Katniss tilted her head to the side as Peeta began to nurse the pulse he found there with a gentle sucking motion, extracting low, breathy groans from her.

He felt her hands grab and bunch the front of his t-shirt, and he realized he needed her closer, needed to touch more of her, kiss more of her. There didn't seem to be an end to what he wanted with Katniss. Peeta kissed his way back up to her lips, pressing his more firmly to hers this time. His heart leapt as she responded to his attentions, and soon their tongues were caressing each other in soft, unhurried strokes. Peeta wanted to take his time exploring every inch of her mouth, and he was startled when he felt the force of Katniss' hands pushing him away.

"Don't," she said, the intensity of her eyes betraying her words.

"Katniss-" Peeta started, trying to understand her actions.

"You're leaving. I'm not the kind of girl that does one night stands or even week long trysts," she said, growing agitated by the end of her statement. "You don't belong here. I do. No one ever comes to Panem Springs to stay, Peeta. They stop for a meal, maybe a beer, then they leave, never to be seen or heard from again." Peeta couldn't reach out fast enough to keep her in place when she turned to leave and any words that could possibly have made her stay were caught in his throat. "Maybe I'll see you around," was her reply before she slipped quietly out the door.

Peeta stood, unmoving and dumbfounded at what had transpired. One minute he was in heaven and the next he found himself blanketed with the loneliness of hell in her absence.

After forcing himself to finish hauling out the trash that had been piling up, he walked across the street to the jail, wondering what it was going to take to get Katniss to trust him. And more importantly, if she did, what was he actually going to do about it?

---

"Mr. Snow, sir," Seneca Crane, Mr. Snow's right hand man, knocked on the door of his office, the pressure pushing it open slightly.

"What is it Mr. Crane?" Snow asked, keeping his eyes on the papers before him.

"Sir, it's the press. They're starting to report that there may not be a race. Mr. Andersson has given more than his fair share of interviews, but the people are getting anxious."

"Do you not know how to do your job, Mr. Crane?" Snow asked snidely, his eyes peeking over his spectacles at his assistant.

"Yes, sir, I do. It's just that they won't be convinced anymore. They're demanding Lightning Mellark now, sir. They've taken to rioting in the press room when we tell them he's indisposed or sick." Seneca went through the list of excuses he'd used to explain Peeta's disappearance. "Do you know where he is?"

"Do you think I don't know his whereabouts?" Mr. Snow said coolly. Seneca stayed silent, realizing his mistake. "Mr. Crane, I have known Peeta Mellark's location since the minute I learned of his vanishing. He will be here, but I'm going to let him sweat a little before the big day. Do what you can to control the crowds," he said before dismissing the man. "Don't disappoint me," he demanded as Mr. Crane walk out.

---

Peeta had worked hard over the last week, putting in extra long days and work on the bar was close to being completed. He was exhausted and just wanted to lay in bed all day.

"Hey, little buddy!" Peeta didn't notice Finnick's nickname anymore. He felt like family now and Peeta found himself looking forward to the friendly conversations they shared.

"Hey, Finn. How's the Springs?" Peeta asked with a voice raspy from sleep. He had taken to calling the town by the name the locals had given it, having spent more time in it than most visitors, and was happy Finnick made him an honorary resident. Unofficially, of course.

After catching up with Finnick and working a little more on the Hob, Peeta decided to grab lunch at the diner. He was pleasantly surprised to find Katniss there also, chatting with Johanna about something and they quieted when they heard the jingle from the doorway. He took the seat next to her as she eyed him suspiciously.

"What's up, ladies?" Peeta asked, perusing the menu even though he already knew what he wanted.

"Not much. What can I get you?" Johanna asked him.

"The usual," he said and looked over at Katniss, having heard something that sounded like a snort come from her direction.

"You think you're a regular now, Mellark?"

"Finnick made me an honorary resident of Panem Springs. I belong here now," he relayed to her with a big smile, slyly bringing up one of Katniss' arguments against seeing him. "We'll see how fast you leave, and how slow you are to return."

"Give the guy a break, Kat," Johanna defended him. Peeta agreed. "Yeah, Katniss, give me a break. How are you ever gonna get to know me otherwise?" Peeta asked her, taking a bite out of his sandwich while he waited for a response from her. She said nothing, so Peeta decided he would ask her the same question he'd been asking her since their encounter in the bar.

"Can I see you tonight?" She had said no every other time, but he felt like he was wearing her resolve down. He hoped so, anyway, since he was running out of time. He would leave for the Arena in two days.

"No, you can see me tomorrow night," Peeta sucked in a surprised breath, inhaling some of his turkey club down the wrong pipe. "Unless you die from choking on that sandwich," Katniss said, slapping him on the back hard while Johanna looked on comically.

Peeta finally recovered. "Warn me the next time you do something unexpected, would you? I'd like to at least live long enough to have a date with you and win the Capitol Cup. Then you can kill me with your surprises," he said sarcastically.

"Aw, that's so sweet and perfect," Jo said sticking her finger part way into her mouth and pretending to gag. "Perfectly disgusting, this is."

Katniss rose from her seat, throwing a few bills on the counter to pay for her lunch. "I'll be at the track tonight. You can see me there," she told Peeta, but before he could say anything she slipped out the door and down the street to her Uncle's tire shop.

"There's a track here?" Peeta asked Jo in shock.

"Sort of. It's our version of a track. Just a dirt oval a half mile long on Haymitch's land," Jo replied. "Katniss goes out there every now and then and races the wind when she needs to think. And just so you know," Jo stopped short, eyeing him as if she needed him to understand something. "She never invites anyone."

"Not even Gale?" Peeta questioned in disbelief.

"Are you as brainless as she is? No one means no one." Peeta stopped eating, leaving half his food on his plate, suddenly too excited to be hungry anymore. He hopped off the stool, wiping his face one last time with his napkin and throwing it down on the counter along with his payment and tip for Johanna. A tip she deserved this time. He suddenly felt he had enough energy to blow through the last of his work on the bar and get showered and ready to meet up with Katniss.

As he was about to exit the diner he heard Joanna holler at him, "Don't mess this up, Blondie!"

---

Peeta stood at the edge of the dirt track, unnoticed by Katniss, who was leaning against a car at the other end, one leg positioned on the well of the driver's side tire with arms crossed in her favorite stance. He wanted to commit the view to memory, in case he never got to have another one. He was leaving tomorrow after all, and he had some idea how Katniss felt about him, but none at all about what would happen between them. This could very well be their only night together.

The sun was setting behind him, casting a purple-ish, gray glow over her form. She was looking out over a large canyon, her hair down, the ends of it swaying in the gentle breeze. It was a hot, spring night and Peeta was already beginning to perspire. Wiping a few beads of sweat from his brow, he started his hike across the track to her.

On his way he chided himself for being too preoccupied with seeing her that he forgot to bring her something. Not that there would be a flower shop in the Springs, but he could have gotten something, anything, to show her he cared. Spying a trail of dandelions whose seeds were ripe and ready to blow away, he picked a small bouquet of them to take to her. He thought it was better than being empty handed.

She turned her eyes to him before he was too close to surprise her like he wanted. "You making wishes tonight?" she asked, eyeing the weeds.

"I'm living my wish right now. Thought you might want to make some?" He smiled and stretched out his hand to give them to her.

"How many wishes do you think I need?" she grinned shyly, taking them from him.

"I thought a girl like you could use a few extra," Peeta replied.

"A girl like me?" Peeta took the bait Katniss offered.

"Yeah, a girl like you," he said, stepping closer and trapping her between him and the car, which he noticed upon approach was a 1966 Shelby Cobra, the same smoky color as Katniss' eyes, and Peeta's favorite car of all time. "A girl who knows what she likes but is too afraid to go after it," he finished his thought.

"Is that so?" she challenged. She picked one of the dandelions from the bouquet and, turning into the wind, blew the seeds away. She turned back to face him, and Peeta noticed her eyes were expectant and stormier than before. He boldly put his hands on her hips, hoping he was granting her first wish, and leaned in pressing his lips to hers. She didn't hesitate to return his advance, and they found themselves picking up the intensity they had left in the Hob days earlier.

Peeta pulled back, searching Katniss' eyes for confirmation that he had done the right thing. "Did I get your first wish correct?" he asked. She smiled, but didn't say anything. She picked out another dandelion and blew the seeds away, turning back to Peeta with a mischievous grin on her face.

This time, knowing exactly what she meant, Peeta leaned into her body, guiding her to settle back on the hood of the car. He hovered over her, planting feather light kisses along the thin straps of her very tiny camisole, earning her arms around his neck and her fingers in his hair. For what felt like seconds, but was actually many minutes of heated kissing, Peeta stood erect, pulling Katniss up from the hood. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Let's see what this baby can do, shall we?"

"I thought that's what you were doing?" she quipped with lustful eyes and a sultry tone.

"I was talking about the car," he answered, feeling every bit as aroused as she looked. It had taken a ton of strength to pull himself away from her.

"Well that was actually my second wish. You just gave me a bonus kiss," she winked at him in victory and Peeta reached over to snag a dandelion out of her hand.

"Hey!" Katniss cried out, reaching for the weed. Peeta blew the seeds away before she could grab it. "That was for the kiss," he said to her smartly.

"How do you know I was even going to wish for another one? Maybe I don't like your kisses," she lied playfully. Peeta drew her to him again, leaning in and allowing his breath at her ear to cause her to shiver. "You're not a very good actress," he whispered as he let her go and walked to the passenger side of her car. "Now get in."

Katniss climbed in the driver's seat and with a flick of the key and a stomp on the clutch the engine roared to life. Peeta was impressed that she knew how to handle herself in the car, and she made pretty good time despite her beat up roadster and the dirt track. Katniss stopped the car and turned to Peeta.

"You wanna drive now?" she asked him, removing the worn seat belt.

"Um, yeah," he responded as if it was the most ludicrous question in the world. He hopped out and as they began to trade sides, the sound of an aircraft overhead cause them to look up. A helicopter was moving in their direction, its flood lights illuminating their position. Peeta moved closer to Katniss and, in a protective manner, wound his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. Her small frame fit perfectly with his, he thought. They both shielded their eyes as the craft lowered to the ground, a tall, slender man hopping out and making his way over to them.

"Mr. Mellark?" asked the man, whose beard Peeta noticed did a weird pointy thing in the middle.

"Yes?" he answered.

"I'm Seneca Crane, Mr. Snow's assistant. I'm so glad we found you. The fans and the press are getting restless in your absence. Are you ready to go?"

A week ago, Mr. Crane's appearance and words would have made Peeta jump for joy, but now they scared him. Would Katniss allow him to come back if he left now? Could he abandon the race, disappointing all his fans and just stay here with her forever?

"Mr. Mellark," Seneca called to him over the whir of the chopper's blades. "We need to go now. The race is tomorrow afternoon and you need to rest and be ready for interviews. Follow me."

With that, he turned and walked back to the aircraft, climbing in. Peeta turned his whole body to face Katniss and took both of her hands in his.

"You should go," she said to him.

"What if I don't want to go?" he declared to her. "What if I don't want this to end?"

"Did it ever really begin?" Katniss' words cut Peeta right across the heart. If she was asking that question, then maybe she was right. Maybe there wasn't anything for them. It was probably for the best that Mr. Snow had sent someone at this moment, before they invested themselves further. Peeta knew he wouldn't have been able to hold back if Katniss had kissed him again.

Peeta ran his hands up Katniss' arms, ending at her shoulders. He kissed her forehead tenderly, lingering on her skin, not wanting the dream to fade too quickly. When he pulled back he saw a lonely tear finding its way down Katniss' cheek. He wiped it away gently with his thumb, but the thought of leaving her hurting tore at his heart.

"Tell Finn I'll send someone for him in the morning." Katniss nodded, and Peeta released her beginning his walk to the chopper. He climbed in and took a seat on the edge, keeping his sight trained on the beauty before him. He willed his memory to capture the scene and file it away forever. As the chopper ascended, Katniss bent down, plucking something from the ground. Peeta watched spellbound as she raised a dandelion to her lips and, locking eyes with him, blew the seeds into the night's breeze.

---

"Well folks, this is shaping up to be one promising day in the sport of racing." Katniss could hear Caesar Flickerman's voice over the television in the Hob reporting about Peeta's mysterious disappearance and miraculous return just before the main event.

Walking into the bar earlier that day, Katniss' first thoughts were of Peeta. He had done a remarkable job restoring it over the week, and Gale was pleased enough, although he would never admit it, that he upgraded some of the amenities, adding satellite cable and even a few more beer selections, one of them being Shiner Bock. Katniss knew that it was a gesture of apology to Peeta, but she let the sleeping dog lie.

True to his word, Peeta sent a private jet early in the morning to whisk Finnick away to the Arena with an invitation for her to come with him, which she declined. Katniss didn't want to prolong the inevitable and so she regretfully asked Finnick to relay her gratitude to Peeta when he arrived at the race.

Everyone in town had gathered at the bar, excited to see their honorary resident, Lightning Mellark, race for the Capitol Cup. Any hard feelings about the incident had been laid to rest when the bar reopened. A pool table was delivered the morning after Peeta had left in the helicopter. Gale hadn't wanted to accept it, but enough people were there to talk him into it.

And now, here they were, watching the race Peeta would compete in, in the bar Peeta restored, near the pool table Peeta had sent. Katniss could feel him everywhere and her heart ached with what could have been. She didn't begrudge his choice. He was free from Panem Springs, off in the big, wide world, doing what he loved.

Katniss had tried not to let her eyes be glued to the TV, watching for any sign of Peeta, but she found it extremely difficult and whenever she would spy blonde curls she would hone her sight in to see if it was him.

Finally he walked on set with Caesar, in what was made out to be the interview of the year. Katniss didn't notice the cut of his racing suit, or the haphazard way he had styled his hair that day, or even the way he would run his tongue over his bottom lip before he answered one of Caesar's questions. What she noticed was the puffy, red skin around his eyes, and the way his words had no spark in them. She noticed despondency, and apparently she wasn't the only one.

"Peeta," Caesar said, pronouncing the 't' a little too harshly for Katniss' liking. "You seem to be far away today. Is there something that happened to you while you were gone?" Peeta was unusually silent, Katniss thought. After what seemed like minutes of dead air, he spoke up.

"Yeah, Caesar, something did happen to me. I met someone." Katniss watched Peeta's dreamy grin overtake his face as he mentioned her and she felt an elbow in the shoulder as Johanna sidled up next to her.

"You hearing this, Brainless?" Katniss ignored her friend's comment choosing to focus only on the bright blue of Peeta's eyes, seeming even bluer in contrast to the redness.

"Oh!" Caesar said, his eyes brightening with the knowledge of all the new questions he could ask. "I knew there just had to be someone special in your life by now," he raved.

"Yeah, well, the problem is, I don't think she really knows how I feel about her," Peeta confessed to the nation.

"Well you know what you should do? You should get out there and win this race for her and she'll know exactly how you feel. Then you drag her out of the crowd and declare your undying love for her in front of everyone. She surely wouldn't be able to say no to you," Caesar clapped his hands repeatedly in front of him, as if he were a matchmaker with a foolproof plan.

"That sounds nice, Caesar. And I would do it, too, but there's just one issue with that plan. She didn't come here with me." Caesar feigned shock while Katniss' heart shattered into tiny pieces at the revelation that she was the reason Peeta looked the way he did.

"You could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him, you know?" Johanna's voice stabbed her conscience and unbidden tears flowed from her eyes. After the interview ended, Katniss excused herself to freshen up in the bathroom. She stayed there until the puffy redness that matched Peeta's eyes dissipated. She rejoined the rest of the crowd after the race had gotten underway, and for the next three hours Katniss watched in misery as Peeta continually trailed Cato, never gaining much ground on the turns like he should have. The few bright spots in the race came when Peeta would stop in the pit and they could see Finnick's rusty head of hair, fully dressed in Mellark crew gear, a huge smile on his face.

With only 20 laps to go Katniss was feeling responsible for Peeta's certain loss. She hung her head in defeat, wondering how she would ever make this up to him. He wouldn't want her now, not after this. She hit herself in the head repeatedly with the rhythm of her chant, all you had to do was go.

"Hey, Catnip," she heard Gale call to her. He was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. His presence only seemed to remind her of all the crap she had put Peeta through. "Katniss!" She jerked her head from her hands at the uncharacteristic use of her full name.

"What?" she shrieked at him. He held the cordless phone out to her. "It's for you." Confused as to who could be calling her at this time, when all of her friends and what she considered her family were in the same room with her, she took the phone.

"Hello?"

"Katniss?" she heard Finnick's voice on the other end.

"Finn?" she questioned, sending a confused look to Gale.

"Tell him you want to talk to Peeta," Gale whispered to her.

"What?" Katniss cried, shooting Gale a quizzical look, none of this making any sense to her.

"Finnick has a head set. One that's wired straight to Peeta," he said, motioning for her to catch on. Her brain clicked and she shot up from her stool.

"Finn! I need to talk to Peeta!" she spat out desperately.

"Katniss, he's driving a racecar, and I don't want to die today, so I think I'll stay put if you don't mind. You can talk to him after-"

"Finnick! Listen to me, there may not be an after if you don't let me talk to him right now! Put your phone up to your headset!" She barked, trying to keep her voice from getting too loud, but knowing Finnick's density and the loudness of the place he was in, she didn't want to take any chances.

"Okay, here you go!" He yelled back to her and Katniss had to remove the phone from her ear for a second.

"Peeta," Katniss hesitated, not having had time to think through what she would say. "Peeta, I'm sorry I didn't come to the race with Finnick. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done, and I just want you to know, that if I were there, and you won that race for me, I wouldn't say no to you. I can't say no to you anymore. I know you can win, Lightning Mellark. Now go make Thunder out of that douche, Cato Andersson!" Hoping he heard everything she said, Katniss thanked Finnick for his help and hung up the phone, looking to Gale.

"Why did you do that?" she asked him, grateful but confused.

"The heart wants what it wants, Katniss, and everyone can see your heart has been struck by lightning," he said sincerely, a sad grin taking over his face.

"Thank you, Gale," Katniss praised him, walking around the bar to envelope him in a tight hug. She pulled away when cheers began to erupt from the bar, and turning towards the television she could see Peeta's car slowly creep up to catch Andersson's. A thrill shot through her at the thought that Peeta had heard what she said.

With one lap to go the two cars were neck and neck, everyone in the bar was on the edge of their seats chanting "Lightning" at the tops of their lungs. Peeta's car pulled in front of Cato's just in time to cross the finish line, and the bar erupted into chaotic celebration as the checkered flags waved, 'Lightning Mellark: winner' flashing across the screen.

Peeta slipped out the driver's side window of his car and was rushed by the crew, Finnick making it to him first. He hoisted a beaming Peeta in the air, who was waving to the deafening crowd. All eyes were on the TV watching Caesar make his way over to Peeta, waiting patiently for Finnick to set him down and the rest of the crew to provide space for him so he could interview Peeta a second time.

"Lightning! Congratulations! You did it! What does it feel like to finally have the most prestigious award in the country?"

"It feels amazing, but not as amazing as hearing the woman you love tell you she pretty much loves you back," Peeta gushed amidst the continued cheers of the crowd.

"Really?' Caesar asked in elation. "Well, now Mr. Mellark, what are you going to do now that you've won?"

"Caesar, I'm going to Panem Springs!" And with that declaration, Peeta turned to walk away, leaving Caesar Flickerman with a dumbfounded expression. "Mr. Mellark!" he screeched. "What about your trophy?"

"Mail it to me!" Peeta yelled over his shoulder, breaking into a run toward the exit.

Katniss wiped the river of tears from her cheeks and eyes with the tissues Johanna had given her. When Peeta said he was coming back to the Springs she had lost it, shocking everyone in the bar.

"Come on, Brainle- hey, wait a minute! I can't call you that anymore!" Johanna grimaced. "What am I going to call you now?" Katniss smiled happily as she watched Johanna's face contort in confusion.

"How about just Katniss for once?" she suggested to her friend.

"Nah, too simple," Johanna said, dismissing her.

---

Peeta chartered a private jet for the second time in one day to get Finnick and himself back to Panem Springs after the race. During the flight he had received a call from the president of Panem Racing, Mr. Snow, saying he realized the potential Peeta had and wanted him to be the new 'King of the mountain', replacing Andersson, who bitterly announced his retirement after the race. Snow promised him even more fame and fortune, but Peeta knew he would only be making Snow wealthier and more powerful than he was now, and so he was more than thrilled to be able to say no to his offer, letting the business tycoon know he would never be used or controlled.

It was nearly 8 P.M. by the time he arrived at the bar looking for Katniss, wanting to squeeze her tight to his body and never let go. He had replayed her words to him during the race over and over in his head, at least a thousand times, each one making his heart expand with emotion.

He hadn't expected Gale to be the only one at the bar when he walked in.

"Congratulations, Lightning," Gale said, a serious look on her face.

"Thanks," Peeta stammered. He hadn't been expecting that. "Do you, uh, know where I can find-"

"She's at the track," Gale interrupted.

"Oh, alright, well then," Peeta turned to remove himself from the awkward situation, but Gale stopped him before he could get too far.

"Hey, Mellark."

"Yeah?" Peeta answered as he turned back to face Gale.

He hesitated before speaking. "Good job on the bar." Peeta was stunned silent, but Gale seemed to have more to say. "Be good to her, man. She's one of a kind."

Peeta broke into a huge grin at Gale's blessing. "Wouldn't have it any other way," he said lightheartedly as he finally broke away, rushing to the track. He found Katniss sitting on the hood of her car Indian-style, twirling something in her right hand, her chin resting on the left one. The moon cast an iridescent glow across her hair and skin. Peeta was determined to sneak up on her this time, and he tip-toed the last twenty feet, trying hard not to crunch anything beneath his shoes, alerting to his presence.

He stood just behind her off to her left, noticing what she held in her hand was a bald dandelion.

"Hey," he whispered into the night. Katniss bolted off the car, startled and took a defensive stance, one Peeta hadn't seen yet, until she recognized him.

"Peeta!" she squealed, running to him. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms tight around his neck. He laughed heartily as she planted kisses all over his face, pleased with her reaction. "How did you get here so quickly? I wasn't expecting you for days," she asked, pulling back just far enough to lock their eyes.

"I flew back. I didn't want to be anywhere else," he admitted. "Just here with you." Peeta felt a tangible tension mounting between them and he couldn't wait any longer to ask the question that had been on his mind since her voice came through his headset. "Did you mean what you said?"

"Of course. I never say anything I don't mean," she assured him. "I need you, Peeta," Katniss whispered, connecting her lips to his. The kiss began slow and smooth, Peeta being certain to pour relief and promise into it and feeling the same from Katniss. Things became more passionate as Peeta walked Katniss toward the car, lowering her onto the front of the hood, Katniss clutching his collar possessively. It didn't matter, he wasn't going anywhere.

"We were interrupted last night," Katniss said, her voice muffled through Peeta's insistent kisses. He moaned at her statement.

"Were we?" he asked playfully, continuing to lavish the inside of her mouth with his tongue. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," he groaned in between kisses, making his way down her neck, stopping at the top of the valley leading down between her breasts. He looked up at her with questioning eyes, and she rewarded him with a sly, sexy grin. She reached up and began to unbutton her plaid shirt in answer and Peeta, deciding to help her, started at the bottom. Their hands met in a frenzy at the middle button, popping it off from the force of four hands doing the work of two. Peeta moved the fabric to the sides, running his hands along her stomach and rib cage, groaning gratefully at the knowledge that she had chosen not to conceal her breasts underneath a bra. Katniss scooted further onto the hood propping herself up on her elbows, and Peeta crawled up to meet her, hungrily taking in the sight of her bare before him.

"Do you always walk around like this? Because I have to say, we'll never get anything done if you do," he confessed, lust lacing his every word. "You'll be too distracting."

"Then I think you'll be happy at what's not underneath my shorts," she breathed out the words and immediately Peeta felt his pants tighten.

"Katniss, there's one part of my life I don't want to be known as Lightning Mellark," he admitted to her and she chuckled, easing some of the nervousness he felt being with her for the first time.

As the night wore on and clothes were shed, he was, indeed, happy to find the absence of a certain undergarment. Peeta took his time, savoring every inch of Katniss' graceful, slender body and loving the challenge of finding all of the places that made her whimper in pleasure and his name fall from her lips repeatedly.

They lounged together in the car after a second round of feverish love making, Peeta in the passenger seat and Katniss cuddled in his lap, a light blanket Peeta found in the tiny trunk lazily wrapped around them.

"So, what will you do now?" Katniss asked, and Peeta could sense nervousness in her words.

Peeta tightened his hold around her shoulders in an effort to quell her fears.

"Well, I'm sure I'll have to do some interviews and make some appearances for my sponsors, but it shouldn't keep me away for long." Peeta felt Katniss tense. "You could come with me if you want."

Katniss answered his question with one of her own. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Katniss I will never not want you to be with me," Peeta stated firmly, trying his best to settle that knowledge into her head.

"You'll stay with me?" Katniss whispered anxiously. Peeta thought she sounded like a scared child, and his heart swelled with the desire to make her know for the rest of her life that she was loved and cherished.

"Always," he whispered back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I want to hear what you think! Did I blend the two stories well? Did I keep everyone in character? Do you think Kat was too eager in the end to see Peeta? Was there something you wished I would have written? Did any of the scenes disappoint you? Any favorite lines? Do any of you drive a BMW and now you're pissed at me? Pbg