The Phoenix and the Flame
The room was filled with the fragrant scent of cigar smoke and her perfume. Cloyingly sweet with just a hint of bitterness, it suited the leggy blonde perfectly. She perched ladylike on the edge of the cushion, ankles crossed decorously and tucked neatly to one side. China blue eyes bright with interest and wide in fascinated awe were riveted on the man at her side.
He noticed her hands: nails perfectly shaped and painted, fingers slim and soft curled around the stem of her glass. Those hands had never done anything more strenuous than lift a pen to sign a credit slip. He found it ironic that those useless limbs would be the means that led him to his Holy Grail, his promised land. All he needed was for her to get him through the door. Once that happened, the rest would fall into place. Until then, it was in his best interest to keep her happy.
He motioned for the server to refill her glass and leaned forward with a match lit as she pulled a cigarette from the bejeweled bag at her side. She smiled in feline appreciation and made a cup of her fingers to shield the outstretched flame. Those perfect nails grazed a path along the back of his hand as she took a slow draw and then sent a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. "You understand that this is a private gathering, Mr. Mellark." She murmured. "Not just anyone can attend. Only a select clientele will be permitted to view the items."
The blonde man leaned back casually and offered up a lazy smile in reply. "Please call me Peeta," he invited. "I'm aware that there's been considerable interest. I wouldn't want to step on anyone's toes, Ms. Cartwright. It's not good business." He rested an arm on the back of the couch and bent toward her as if imparting a secret. "It doesn't seem fair that I'm being punished for not being a member of the club. That is why I came to you."
She preened under his appreciative regard but managed to hold onto her indifferent mask. "I'm flattered that you did but I don't understand what help I can offer you. The party is by invitation only. I have no authorization to issue any more. The guest list was decided by the board months ago. I had no hand in it."
He flicked an appraising glance toward her legs, letting his eyes linger and making sure that she noticed. "You misunderstand me, Ms. Cartwright. I don't want you to attempt the impossible although I am grateful that you would consider doing so on my behalf. What I had in mind was something much simpler." His hand slid ever closer and toyed with a blonde curl nestled beneath her ear. "I could go as a guest of someone who is on the list. Yours if you like," he murmured.
She looked thoughtful for a moment as she studied him. Peeta's breath caught but he wiped any sign of nervousness from his expression. He sent her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. The silence stretched out endlessly until she smiled and dropped a possessive hand on the knee closest to her. "You devil," she purred. "You think you need only to pay me a few compliments and I'll be putty in your hands." Her wandering fingers began to trace intricate patterns as they slid upward along the length of his thigh. "How do I know that you're being honest? You could have picked me because you thought I'd succumb to a handsome face and give you whatever you want."
He slid infinitesimally closer and held her gaze while allowing the errant curl to twine about his fingers. "I think that you underestimate the effect that you have. I'm sorry that I've given you such a low opinion of me if you think that I'd resort to petty flattery to get what I want." An arrogant smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "You're the curator of the Snow collection. You have a reputation, Ms. Cartwright. You have been able to balance both the public demand to see the artifacts and the family's need for privacy. It's an impressive feat. I admire that. I don't need to exploit that knowledge for personal gain. I have other methods to get in should I choose to use them. I merely wanted to kill two birds with one stone. It also means that I get to know you better which is an added bonus."
Her nails continued to move up and down his leg as she considered. "I can't say that I'm not tempted. You certainly have a way about you."
"So that means you'll allow it," he pressed as he covered her hand with his and squeezed it expectantly.
Delly eyed him with a knowing smile as she wriggled her fingers free. "I'll allow it. It will certainly make the night more interesting if I have you where I can keep an eye on you. I'd hate to have you wander off at an inopportune moment."
Peeta let his eyes slip down her body in an unhurried manner and made sure his appreciation was readily apparent. "Now why would I wander off when the rewards for staying put are so abundantly clear? Don't worry about me. I think it will be difficult for me to pry myself away."
She slid her fingers roughly through his curls, pushing his head back so that their eyes met and held. "Don't make promises that you have no intention of keeping. You intrigue me. For that reason alone, I'm agreeing to this. You'll have to convince me that I won't end up regretting this whim." She smiled archly. "I think that you will enjoy this little endeavor just as much as I will. I'm willing to be persuaded."
His brows lifted at the suggestive tone and he couldn't hide the triumphant spark that kindled in his heated blue gaze. "I'll take that under advisement," he returned. "I'll look forward to the pleasure of your company very soon, Ms. Cartwright."
"Wait here and I'll get you an entry pass," she ordered. "I won't be long." She swept out the door, her heels clattering loudly on the stone tiles.
He reclined on the couch, hands laced carelessly over his bent knee. For all intents and purposes, he was relaxed and laissez-faire. One had to look closely to note that things weren't quite what they seemed. His eyes never stopped moving as they scanned the entire room looking for anything unusual or out of place. Even as he casually toyed with the strap of his watch, he marked the hidden camera tucked into the ornamental carvings where the wall met the ceiling. The microphone concealed in the chandelier overhead could have been overlooked had the small sliver of metal that rested innocuously amid the hanging crystal not caused a brief rainbow flare in the refracted light. He slid the strap clear, exposing the metal backing. He pressed his thumb firmly against the plate and felt it warm slightly to his touch. He waited for a few breaths and then set the watch on the cushion beside of him. He glanced down as if to check the time but in reality, to better aim the compact laser hidden inside the casing toward the watching lens.
He couldn't see the intermittent flashes but that wasn't the point. The laser changed flash times and wavelengths as it cycled. It wouldn't harm the camera but should give him just enough privacy to get what he came for. The bejeweled bag lay forgotten on the table next to the remains of their meal. He slid forward on the couch and indifferently tapped the fingers of one hand on the table surface as the other eased into the bag and snagged the key card that had been hastily tucked inside. He palmed the card and took a glass of wine as he slouched back against the cushions. He crossed one knee over the other and used that motion to pull a key ring from his pocket. An orange, black and white helmet swung from the ring looking like any of a thousand other mementos. He slid the card into an imperceptible slot on the side, waited two beats, and then dropped it back into the purse. A double click in his left ear made one side of his lip quirk up. Slipping the keys back into his pocket, he was sipping his wine in a relaxed manner when the tall blonde glided back through the door.
"This will get you through the gate and alert security to let me know you've arrived," she disclosed. "The auction will begin at precisely nine pm so you need to be here no later than seven. I'll look forward to seeing you then. I've arranged for some private refreshments once the party has wound down. I hope you don't mind."
He favored her with an indolent smile and let his eyes take her in from tousled blonde curls to towering fuchsia heels. "Looking forward to it," he replied.
Delly Cartwright was known for her poise and deportment. She took pride in it. There was nothing dignified in the satisfied smirk that crossed her features. "Well then, I'll see you at seven," she purred softly and let her fingers sketch the outline of his watch.
He nodded briefly, "See you then." He gave her a last lingering look from the corner of his eye along with a small smile before being escorted from the room.
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
The nondescript building did little to draw attention to itself. The façade was plain with no identifiable signs or markings. The people who worked there tried to keep a similarly low profile. Peeta Mellark was no exception. Gone was the tailored suit and immaculately shined shoes. In their place were a pair of well-worn jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and scuffed pair of Nikes.
The front door slid open easily at his touch. The lobby was a pleasant eggshell white with soothing gray accents. The pretty blonde holding court in the center of the room fit her surroundings perfectly. Her cotton candy pink skirt came smartly to the knee. The white ruffled shirt peeking out from underneath a matching tailored jacket had a playful bow tied loosely at the neck. Her hair was swept into a smooth stylish pleat. "Good morning, Mr. Mellark." Her silky voiced greeting came as no surprise. Low, modulated, perfect intonation. If ever there was a portrait of a textbook receptionist, this woman fit it impeccably. That alone justified Madge Undersee's presence. The less obvious reasons were that she was fluent in eight languages, proficient with most weapons as well as hand-to-hand combat, and pretty enough that most underestimated what the woman was capable of. She smiled politely as her fingers danced over the keyboard in front of her. An innocuous panel slid open and she nodded for him to proceed.
Peeta pulled a small card from his pocket and swiped it. Madge tapped briefly on her board then nodded once again. Peeta placed his hand on the scanner where it was outlined in neon green light. The sense of heat was fleeting but enough to cause a momentary flash of discomfort. The sensor not only checked for hand proportion and prints but also took a sampling of skin and tissue for DNA and body chemistry. Within five seconds, his identity had been confirmed and the lock disengaged. He gave Madge a grin and small nod then made his way through the previously concealed entrance. The door clipped his heels as it glided shut behind him.
The room he entered was small, bare, and better suited to a closet. Peeta held his arms away from his sides with fingers spread. He slid his feet apart and planted them firmly into two shallow grooves in the otherwise plain floor. A small chime sounded. At that, he squeezed his eyes shut and felt a rapacious tingling invade his limbs. It was as if every nerve in his body fired to full, glorious life. Ruddy light spun about him in a haze of honey and gold. He stood motionless, holding his breath until the chime sounded again. Apparently, he had been found free of all biological, chemical, and manufactured toxins. If anything had been detected, the light would irradiate the sample, and a chemical shower would engage. A failsafe mechanism would also keep him locked down until he could be safely removed. The far door swung open on silent hinges, allowing him entry into the main operations area.
Warren Beetee, a twenty year veteran of the Agency, glanced up at the sound of the door releasing and lifted a hand as Peeta entered. He flicked an answering nod in the man's direction and laughed softly as Chastine Wiress, Beetee's partner, studied him in a distracted manner. The woman constantly got lost in her own mind and seldom took notice of what was going on around her. She was one of the most accurate profilers that the Agency had. She was intuitive and could make associative leaps that at first seemed ridiculous. More often than not, they turned out to be eerily accurate. Due to that, her tendency to forget simple details such as scheduled meetings and the faces of her co-workers were easily overlooked. Beetee was the perfect person to keep her in check. The man noticed everything and forgot nothing.
A few others were clustered around the bullpen; better known as Haymitch Abernathy's office. The older man caught sight of him and motioned him forward impatiently. Peeta cut through the other agents, smiled a greeting to those he hadn't seen in a while, and plopped unceremoniously into an empty chair.
"About time you came by, boy." Haymitch growled. "Thought we were going to have to send Odair to retrieve you."
Peeta gave his boss a patient look and reminded, "When have you ever had to send someone to bring me in? You do know that we're supposed to be discreet. Fly under the radar. Work behind the scenes and all of that." Peeta grinned. "If you want to start announcing what we do here, just say the word. I can have a billboard painted inside of a day."
Finnick nudged him playfully and rejoined, "I would have to object on general principle. I like the covert lifestyle. It suits my reserved personality."
Peeta's mouth quirked up at his friend's mocking comment. Finnick was anything but reserved. He stood out without even trying and not just for his exceptional looks. He had an over the top personality that automatically made him the center of attention. Peeta had seen him walk into a room and within fifteen minutes, be surrounded by people who acted as if they had known the man for years. It was a useful skill in their line of work. Peeta had cultivated his own talent for turning a pretty phrase but Finnick still managed to retain the Lothario title for the group.
"I'm guessing that you want an update on the Mockingjay situation?" Peeta quipped. "I've got my entry point secured. I got a good look at her keycard and put it through the box. Gale has the findings and is fabricating a duplicate as well as well as a master copy which should give me access to most of the compound."
Haymitch nodded in a satisfied manner. "I've seen the transcripts of your meeting with Miss Cartwright. I have to say I'm impressed. We might have to give you a new call sign. You charmed the skirt into giving you practically everything you needed."
Peeta gave the man a pained look that was only exacerbated by Finnick's sudden burst of laughter. "Thanks anyway," he muttered. "But I think one Casanova in the group is plenty, don't you? I like my old name just fine."
Haymitch smirked as only he could. "I had a feeling you might say that, boy. I agree with you. You've earned that tag, damn me if you haven't. For this op, it might be prophetic." He picked up a file and flipped through a few sparsely written sheets. "We're not the only ones invited to the party. We picked up a partial transmission that mentions "Flame." We ran it through the data base and put together a dossier which I have included in your briefing packet. Your mission will be two fold. The first objective is to procure the Mockingjay pin. We will be able to give you a better idea of security measures that are being used once we finish analyzing the coding on Miss. Cartwright's keycard. The second is to identify "Flame" and defuse the threat. The pin cannot be allowed to fall into outside hands. Secure it or destroy it."
Peeta worried his bottom lip as he studied the older man. "I'll need the packet no later than 4pm so I can get through everything. Are we going for straight out removal or substitution of the pin? It might not be a bad idea to have a copy so we're prepared for all contingencies."
Haymitch tapped a thumb thoughtfully against his mouth as he mulled it over. "Tech should be able to have a reasonable facsimile assembled by then. Ideally, we should fit it with a tag and do the switch beforehand. Then we could track them right to the source. That would be the game plan if we had a little more time. As it stands, our best option is to get in, secure or destroy the merchandise, and neutralize any and all threats that would keep you from completing your objectives."
Peeta nodded in understanding. "Who's my team?" He questioned.
Haymitch shuffled his paperwork and finally came up with what he wanted. "Gale will be your eyes and ears. He managed to lock down the frequency that security uses. We'll jump a few bands and piggyback on their transmissions. That should keep us off the grid. He will have to be parked nearby to get access to their mainframe. That's only as a backup in case the keycard fails. Finnick will work the perimeter. He will cover the main egress as well as keep an eye on security. He will also back you up as needed. "
Finnick grinned and flipped him a thumbs up. "That's right. You can rest easy knowing that I, Finnick Odair, am on the job. While you're squiring around the lovely Miss Cartwright, I will be singlehandedly saving the day."
Peeta smiled back. "Good to know that I won't be that busy tonight, Finn. Maybe I'll just kick back and catch the game. You guys can call me when it's done."
Haymitch tapped a finger on the desk to get their attention. "Settle down. We've still got a few things to go over." Once they had given him their full attention he continued, "As I said before, we got a partial broadcast on an unused band that mentioned someone who goes by 'Flame.' Intel ran with it and pulled a few details together. There's not much to go on. Looks like a freelancer who has stayed mostly to the small time since first cropping up. This is the first time the name has popped up in conjunction with something that could be a major op. "
Peeta raised a hand, "Any pictures? It would be helpful to have an idea going in what I'm looking for?"
Haymitch grimaced and shook his head. "Flame has been remarkably capable in avoiding the cameras. Hair and eye color reports vary which is to be expected but what is consistent is that Flame is a smallish female and has a taste for archaic weaponry. Last guy to report a sighting ended up with an arrow through his hand. Whoever she is, she's deadly accurate with a bow. She's also known to carry knives and has a fondness for heights. Chances are she's going to try the back way instead of open and obvious. Watch your back and the corners, kid. I'd hate to see you lose out to an amateur."
Finnick snickered at the dirty look Peeta shot his boss. A cocky grin curved up the edges of his mouth. "So you're saying that she's not going to be decorating the arm of a high profile official. Haymitch, I won't be the one to second guess your expertise. Have Gale keep an eye on the sky and Finn can watch the security feeds. If I see anybody out of the ordinary, I'll deal with them."
Haymitch slid over a palm sized data stick which Peeta tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. "That will purge within five minutes after the file is accessed. Usual protocol. Anybody but you is in for a nasty surprise if they try to plug it in."
Peeta climbed smoothly to his feet and replied, "I'll grab a desk and look this over. If I have any questions, I'll let you know." Haymitch waved a dismissal and turned back to his files. Peeta shared an amused look with Finnick and then made his way to one of the unoccupied cubicles. He retrieved the data stick, and booted up the computer sitting quietly on the desk. Mindful of Haymitch's warning his thumb found the slight indention at the end of the drive. Once he loaded it into the port, he keyed in his ten digit password and waited as the files transferred. There were six files: pin, Flame, compound, Snow, staff, security parameters. Peeta mulled it over and then clicked on the prompt for the file marked 'pin.'
The Mockingjay pin was custom designed for noted software developer, Alma Coin. She had been instrumental in setting up the operating systems for the new government after the Rebellion. Coin had been directly responsible for assisting the Rebels in infiltrating the Capital. She hacked the Capital mainframe, overrode controls for the national network so that the Rebels could broadcast their propos uninterrupted, interfered with security, and gave them an advantage that ended the war much more quickly than anyone thought possible.
Paylor, the newly anointed President, had presented the pin in a ceremony that aired nationwide. Coin had blushingly accepted the honor but declined any sort of role in the new government. Her decision was puzzling for many because she had been offered her choice of any number of plum assignments. Her soft-voiced explanation was that she didn't want to be in the public eye. She preferred to stay in the background as an advisor if needed. Paylor had grudgingly accepted. What wasn't known then but soon became glaringly apparent was that Alma Coin liked to wield authority but never openly. She preferred to be the power behind the throne. She came whenever Paylor called and did whatever service was requested of her. All the while, she was laying the groundwork for a coup d'état that would shake their world to its foundations.
The initial system glitches were minor, mere tremors of the upheaval to come. Services were interrupted, shipments to the Districts late or missed altogether, complaints about the problems seemingly overlooked or ignored. The rumbles grew louder as the chaos escalated. Paylor tried to stem the tide but for every inroad that was made, another stumbling block was put in her path.
The breaking point came when an order was logged advising the use of force against peaceful protesters. In District Eleven, the harvesters weren't being repaired in a timely fashion. Most crops were harvested by massive machinery but years of neglect and heavy use had taken their toll. The workers were required to do the work by hand. The backbreaking labor and long hours were a throwback to conditions prior to the Rebellion. The workers properly logged their complaints to the overseers. They were sent through the chain of command until they landed with a thud on Paylor's desk. Directives meant to address the issues went unnoticed and were lost in the shuffle as bureaucracy bogged down a process they were supposed to streamline. When workers organized a peaceful gathering at the Government House, an order came down bearing Paylor's authorization to break up the crowd by force if necessary.
The resulting slaughter sent shockwaves through the Districts. The clamor was loud and immediate. Paylor's reassurance fell on deaf ears as knowledge of the clandestine edict became public. The furor reached a fever pitch when the newly minted Congress voted for Paylor's impeachment. Stripped of any and all influence and power, Paylor called in her old ally, Alma Coin to search out the truth. This would have been a fatal error but for Darius Boggs, Paylor's second in command. He pulled the order logs and back tracked the URL tags. The check turned up nothing of interest except for one minor detail. The time stamp on the order coincided with Paylor being en route to a dinner at the Peacekeeper training academy in District Two. She hadn't brought along a handheld communicator and there was no linkup in the hovercraft for her to enter the command. Armed with that knowledge, he knew that somebody had access to the network and was capable of mimicking another user. .
The trail to Alma Coin was winding and full of dead ends and false starts. The detail that cracked the case wide open came with the discovery of a string of codes that didn't fit any of the operating programs. Arrow, mutt, jabberjay. Amid the background of mundane government jargon, these stood out like a beacon. Boggs enlisted the help of the best cryptographer available, the selfsame Walter Beetee. Together, they followed the text stream to a dummy file that sent intermittent file transfers to an outside grid. They focused on the dummy file and found that it had been tagged via the operating system with a program that tracked the frequency of how often the data was accessed. Paylor had implemented this feature once the system had been fully integrated as a safeguard against the kind of attacks that Rebels had used against the former regime. The data access log gave them a time frame to focus on. One bread crumb led to the next which then took them right to the proverbial golden egg: the backdoor itself. Once breached, they had everything they needed to serve up Coin on a silver platter. In her own words, the key to the door had come from Paylor's own hand and would be her downfall.
Paylor had seen the truth of Coin's duplicity immediately. She quickly deduced the Mockingjay pin as the only object befitting the cryptic description. Summoned to the residence under the guise of a strategy meeting to shore up Paylor's power base, they were able to take the woman into custody and secure the pin. Beetee soon teased out its secrets. The evidence gathered allowed them to try and execute Alma Coin for treason. All known traces of the back door were wiped out and precautions taken to make sure it would never happen again. The situation was thought to be resolved until a catalog for the Snow Collection auction came to light. Another Mockingjay pin was listed in the inventory. No one knew for sure if this one contained a passcode for an undiscovered pathway into the system. They couldn't take that chance. Now it was up to Peeta to make sure that the duplicate was safely secured.
Peeta toyed idly with his watch band as he considered the information. The custom order for Coin's pin was the only documented case of the design being used. The manufacturer was an artisan who still lived and worked in the Capital. Portia D'Anjou was now considered one of the most elite stylists in the country. Her early jewelry designs were desperately sought after for their intricacy of design and fine craftsmanship. The Mockingjay had been her first commission as a solo designer. The government had ordered the design to be retired after fabrication of Coin's pin had been completed. The appearance of an identical piece had caused uproar. Attempts to view the article prior to the auction had been gently but firmly denied. That left them with few viable options. He closed the file down and briefly considered the other choices. Hesitantly, he clicked the 'Flame' file and waited impatiently for the contents to load.
What finally came up was something of a disappointment. He knew that there were no pictures of the mystery woman. He hoped for something more than a dry as dust compendium of her activities. Blowing out a frustrated breath, he began to read the file closely. Her first appearance had been just over two years ago. The Government Building in District Twelve had been infiltrated and the resident records tampered with. Twelve was still the smallest and most remote of the districts. The new mayor was competent and his staff diligent in their efforts to bring Twelve up to par with the rest of the country. For years, Twelve had relied on hand written documentation to register its citizens. Under the new government, equipment in the outlying districts was swiftly upgraded and the process of transferring all residential documents begun. The task of entering the data was daunting. The project limped along at a snail's pace but eventually the mountain of material was safely recorded. The break in occurred on a Sunday when the building was deserted and only the front entrance guard station manned. All other passages were locked from the inside and under camera surveillance. The point of egress was an open upstairs window.
The locals had been unable to ascertain what files had been tampered with. There was no discernible pattern. The only evidence was a vague outline caught by a surveillance camera. Peeta keyed the link attached to the document and viewed the feed. In the lower corner, a small shadow eased into view and just as quickly disappeared. He slowed down the refresh rate and watched it frame by frame. The shadow entered, head tilted as if listening. A slight bending at the knee as the form peeked around the corner they were pressed up against. Finally, it ducked out of sight as it rounded the bend, presumably to leave via the same window. Peeta stopped the vid and highlighted a portion of the picture. He manipulated the contrast and intensity until the details were as clear as he could make them. There. His finger traced the line of a whipping braid on the monitor as the figure eased out of view.
"There you are," he murmured quietly as he rewound the feed and started the playback again. The head tilted and brought the lower part of the face into the camera's field of view. Pausing the vid, he adjusted the fields until the hazy details gradually took shape. He immediately printed the image and waited impatiently for it to clear the copier. It wasn't perfect but there was a clear image of a face in profile. The cheek and chin closest to the camera were crisply defined. The mouth was pursed tightly as if in anger or intense concentration. He couldn't make out her eyes. He looked at the picture in rapt interest, not noticing that another had entered the room until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
"Who's the girl?" Finnick questioned as he leaned in to inspect the picture. "That looks like a still from a video feed.'
Peeta handed him the muddled image and stretched to work out the kinks that had settled into his back and shoulders. "That is the so-called 'Flame' that has Haymitch flipping his lid. I can't get the image to clean up any better than that but it does give me something to go on."
Finnick studied the face intently. "I thought Haymich said that she had never been photographed. How did you manage to get this?"
"She's been lucky," Peeta commented as he retrieved the picture and folded it carefully before shoving it into a pocket. "That's from her first outing. She managed to keep pretty low but didn't notice the way the cross-corridor camera leans on its mounting bracket. You can see from the angle that the camera isn't completely level. If it had been, she would have sneaked by it completely. Unfortunately for her, it was slightly off. I slowed it down and did a frame by frame run. That's how I found this." He refreshed the playback and let the tape run until the shadowy form ducked out of sight. Finnick grinned slightly as the wavering braid disappeared from view.
"She's not bad," Finnick remarked. "I'd say that she's got some training or practical experience at not being seen. Nobody moves like that naturally."
Peeta nodded in agreement and backed the image up once more. The flopping braid caught and held his attention. He couldn't say why but it seemed important that he remember it. Finnick watched as he went through several repetitions before finally asking, "What are you looking for? Seems like you've already pulled out the most important piece of information from the tape. Is there something that I'm missing?"
Peeta paused the feed once more and pointed to the braid. "See her hair. Something about it bothers me. She went to the trouble to tie back her hair but left her face bare. She's relying completely on her knowledge of camera placement to keep her from being seen. I think the braid is a habit instead of done especially for the mission. She's used to wearing her hair that way. That's the only logical answer. She would have been better off tucking it away or cutting it if she wanted to alter her appearance. Instead, she braids it."
Finnick looked skeptical as he watched the film progress for the tenth time in as many minutes. "Peeta, you're reading too much into this. The girl isn't a professional. She's a gun for hire. Who knows what kind of background she has."
Peeta shook his head adamantly. "I know it's a stretch but there's something there, Finnick."
The look Finnick gave him was a combination of resignation and rueful amusement. "Maybe or maybe not. Just promise me that you won't forget the real reason for being there tonight. It's not to puzzle out Flame's reasons for her hairdo choices. Remember that."
Peeta snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "I'll do my job, Finn. Just like always." His friend didn't reply but left the room as quickly as he had come. Peeta clicked off the video feed and back to the list of files for the mission. He chose the one marked Snow and began to read details about the family whose copious artifacts collection was being sold off that very evening. His gaze strayed every so often to the picture lying at his elbow before darting back to the screen. Finally, he gave up his attempts to ignore what was right in front of him and picked the picture up to study it intently. Something about her intrigued him. He ran a thoughtful finger over the barely visible line of her jaw and chin. He shook his head and then tucked the picture into a file of notes he had made to take with him. He would do the work, complete his mission, and then he would deal with the rest of it. His next mission was to figure out what made the girl with the braid tick.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
He cleared the security cordon with little effort. The pass had made it almost simple. Peeta was glad for the ease with which he moved through the queuing crowds. Some of them were hangers on that had no hope of entry and were only there to be noticed. He let his gaze idle over the throng and grimaced inwardly as both men and women tried to catch his eye on the off chance that he would wave a hand and have the velvet rope lifted. He mentally separated them into distinct groupings to help him keep track of the press of bodies. Haves, have not's, want to be's, has beens. All were gloriously represented.
She stood just beyond the guards and he paused once more to let his eyes trace an appreciative path from the soaring mass of magenta curls to the equally towering shocking pink heels. Delly Cartwright let the crowd break around her like a rock splitting the river in twain as she preened under his eye. She let him come to her, smiling roguishly as the broad shouldered figure cut easily through the crush. He silently crooked an arm and gave her a half-smile that brought a ruddy flush to her cheeks.
"I was beginning to wonder if you had decided to forego our evening," she pouted coquettishly.
Peeta gave her his most charming grin and patted the pink tipped hand that rested gracefully on his sleeve. "I can only wish that the taxi drivers in the city were as efficient as your guards. It took longer to get me three blocks than it did to pass through three checkpoints. Your skills and efficiency are quite impressive, Ms. Cartwright."
Delly raised a brow but refrained from speaking as they strolled deeper into the lush byways of the massive edifice. Peeta looked around carefully, letting his gaze linger on the high cornices and ornate esplanades. Security wasn't obvious because the well-to-do that frequented such gatherings didn't want to do so in an armed camp. Still, he easily noted the presence of several hidden guard niches disguised by a cunningly placed plant or delicate carvings that camouflaged a meurtriere. He reached into an inside jacket pocket and removed a slim pair of wire-framed glasses. Giving Delly an apologetic look, he flipped them open and settled them into place. Under the guise of pushing his unruly curls aside, his finger found the tiny switch on the earpiece just behind his left ear. A red light flashed twice at the edge of his vision before settling to a steady green glow. He sent Delly another smile and squeezed her fingers warmly. He then slowly turned his head and let the camera do its work. It recorded the depth and thickness of the surrounding walls. Any lighter spot was flagged and automatically dumped into a data cache that Gale was supposed to clear every ten minutes once the camera signaled that it had been activated.
Bypassing the more heavily travelled corridors, she led him into a quiet passageway that seemed to be a more direct route to the main ballroom where the auction was being held later that evening. She stopped before a complexly carved vestibule and swiped her keycard. A small chime sounded and the door swung softly inward at her touch. She inclined her head and gestured for him to follow. He nodded his acceptance, cupped her elbow, and allowed himself to be drawn into the room. Instead of an empty chamber, he was surprised to note the twenty odd couples that mingled and helped themselves to the elaborate buffet in the corner of the room. He leaned closer to his escort and questioned, "I thought that we would have a moment alone before going to the party. I didn't realize that I would have to share you so soon."
Delly let out a throaty laugh and pressed a cool palm to his cheek affectionately. "Silly boy, I told you that we would have our time later. This is the perfect opportunity for you to…how did you say it earlier? Become a member of the club, I believe. There are alliances to be made and mentors to be gained if you strike while the iron is hot. This, Peeta, is the board of directors for the Snow Collection. You wanted an opportunity and I'm giving it to you."
Peeta had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from gaping at her unexpected announcement. This was almost too good to be true. Rather than seek them out in the larger Arena, he could take their measure in the smaller setting. He could then weigh his options and choose how best to carry out his mission. "Well, what are we waiting for? Introduce me," he stated and watched her face settle into an expression of feline contentment. She took his arm proprietarily and led him to the nearest cluster, already calling out a greeting.
The faces began to blur together as did the names. He had an excellent memory but the heady mixture of burning tobacco, rich food, and the cloying perfume of elaborate floral arrangements seemed to go straight to his head like the wine that swirled with garnet and crimson highlights in his glass. Leeg Jackson laughed at his own jokes and seemed equally pleased to discuss the collection as his latest purchase of a champion pointer used for hunting. Enobaria Agnaste lounged against a bank of emerald cushions that set off her ruby slip of a dress to perfection. She intercepted his look and sent him a teasing pout while patting the empty area beside her. Ever the gentleman, he winked and returned her look with a moue of his own. Brother and sister, Gloss and Cashmere De Jardin held court in the center of the room. The almost picture perfect duo discussed everything from the basket of rolls provided with dinner to the quality of stationery used for the invitations.
After ten minutes of fruitless conversation, Peeta had had enough. He murmured an excuse to Delly and made his way to a pair of French doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the inner courtyard. He walked quickly to the railing and leaned his elbows on the stone balustrade as he breathed deeply to clear the remains of the room's dank air from his lungs. He straightened and closed his eyes as his head tipped back in languid enjoyment of the cool breezes that caressed his face. Out here, the myriad scent of flowers was much more noticeable. Jasmine, wisteria, and the ever present pallid perfection of trademark white Snow roses mixed and mingled into a pungent bouquet. He slid the pads of his fingers underneath his glasses to massage his eyes. The first indication that he was no longer alone came with a hint of lavender and vanilla. The second was a heel tapping impatiently against stone. He dropped his chin and caught sight of a thin, strappy sandal bouncing back and forth as the wearer playfully waggled their foot.
His head tilted to the side and a grin wormed its way onto his face as he watched his clandestine companion's unintentional game. Whoever she was, she was as unimpressed by their immaculate surroundings and elite company as he was. He watched covertly as she continued to worry with the strap of her shoe. She was small, petite, and seemed much too young for the dress that hugged her like a second skin. One shoulder was covered by a thick strap that melded into the body of the dress. The other was left gloriously bare. The black fabric draped closely, following the valleys and plains of her body before coming to an abrupt end at mid-thigh. Her matching black sandals had a pointed toe and two straps that bisected each other before looping around her ankle. She continued to toy with the loose shoe, absentmindedly kicking her foot to make the heel tap against the stone railing. Her hair was dark and wound together in a convoluted fashion. The end of the fist thick rope rested on her bare skin and ended just shy of the swath of black that skimmed her collarbone. She had her eyes focused earnestly on her game and didn't hear his approach.
The light from the open doors was thin and scattered as it sprawled toward her, highlighting a few select areas. One long thigh, a hand, the opposite foot with the dangling shoe, the side of her face. Peeta's eyes narrowed as they rested on the unsuspecting girl's profile. Like a bolt of lightning, it hit him and left him breathless and gasping. It was her. He knew her face like he knew the back of his hand. The braid, the jaw, the mouth pursed tightly in concentration. He started in surprise at the sense of elation and anxiety that filled him up to bursting. She was here and he knew her. The elusive girl that had captured his interest without even trying.
Peeta's eyes never left her as he keyed his link to Gale and Finnick by flexing his jaw. The earpiece clicked twice as they acknowledged his hail. He spoke in imperceptible motions of tongue and teeth. Subvocalization was practically untraceable unless the watcher had been extensively trained in the art of detecting the use of such an obscure technique. "Tell Haymitch that the secondary objective is acquired. Acknowledge." The click sounded in his ear once again. "Repeat. Secondary objective is acquired. Flame is in the box." Finnick's amused chuckle rang in his ear. "I'm moving to intercept and make contact now."
Ignoring the wheezing coming through his earpiece, Peeta whirled and motioned one of the servers closer. He grabbed two glasses of mahogany liquid and waved the man away. "Confirm vid feed and frequency." The acknowledging snap came moments later. Peeta drew in a deep breath and reined in his galloping emotions. He absently pushed his glasses back into position and walked toward the couch. Silver eyes flicked up at his approach and the bobbing foot hastily stilled. He silently offered her the glass and waited. Fine brows beetled but she took it, her fingers brushing his in passing. Peeta fought to settle his nerves as he watched her sip the contents of her glass warily. She seemed as much on edge as he felt. Now it was just a matter of time to see which one of them gave way first.
She sipped the fiery liquid with delicate precision. No wasted motion. No fuss and fury. Her eyes sought his over the rim and stayed as she drained the glass. "Thank you," she murmured in a low, melodious voice. He raised his untouched goblet but she shook her head in response. "One is my limit."
He settled the glass on a low table and took a seat facing her. "It's a lovely evening," he commented into the silence. She flicked an amused glance his way but didn't answer. Her foot twitched as if longing to resume her interrupted game. He looked around hurriedly for something else to say to ease the awkward pause that rose between them. Finding nothing, he turned his attention back to the girl now watching him with barely concealed glee. "Normally this would be where I ask how the evening is going for you but that seems rather pointless don't you think." She narrowed her eyes, cocking her head at an inquiring angle as she continued to regard him over steepled fingers. "Pointless because we're here for the same reason," he clarified.
She laughed softly and, to his surprise, her foot began to move again. The sandal thumped out an irregular rhythm against the rock that echoed the pulse pounding incessantly in his ears. "You don't know anything about me or my reasons for being here," she announced. "You don't know me period. And while I've enjoyed our conversation, I was having a pleasant evening all on my own. So please excuse me."
The dismissal couldn't have been plainer. She turned her attention back to her game and began to pat her foot in time with the soft music that wafted out from the adjoining room. He couldn't stop the smile that crossed his features. She had completely tuned him out and was lost in her own little world. It was an irritating roadblock for anyone attempting the usual pleasantries. The spy in him couldn't help but appreciate her talent, unlikely as it was. She stood out without even trying. It would make her task more difficult in having males actively vying for her attention. She beat them at their own game by provoking their ire. Irritated people didn't think clearly nor did they seek out the source of their frustration. By being openly dismissive and short, she effectively made herself invisible. Those that would have brought her into the limelight were instead another means of concealment. It was a brilliant strategy.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's bad manners to be so openly rude," he chided.
Her silvery gaze bore into him once more. "I didn't ask for you to talk to me. I came out here to be left alone," she retorted.
Peeta grinned at her acerbic tone and took a minute to study her now tense and wary posture. This was obviously the first time that someone had openly challenged her. It put noticeable dents in her carefully maintained facade. He tamped down his open enjoyment and set out to unbalance her further. "If you truly wanted to be alone, sweetheart, then you would have found a way. You could have told me to leave immediately but you didn't. You're very beautiful and I appreciate beautiful things. Of course, I would try to talk with you. I'm only human."
Her eye roll was eloquent in a way that left words wanting. He added another note to his mental dossier of this girl. Despite her buffed and polished exterior, she was clearly unversed in the art of accepting a compliment and returning it. He watched and waited as she finally realized how precarious her situation was. She hesitated, a scowl momentarily creasing her brow. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, it happened. Nothing visibly changed in her demeanor but it was as if a different person was now sitting before him. She reclined languidly in her chair; brow raised teasingly and lips quirking up in amusement. "I'm supposed to believe that my request for a few moments' solitude has ruined your evening. Forgive me for saying so, but I highly doubt that. You can surely find someone else to discuss the weather or any other banal topic that comes to mind."
He momentarily forgot himself enough to let his eyes widen in disbelief. Just like that, the advantage had shifted and now it was he who was fighting desperately to keep control of his riotous emotions. She had spun on a dime and caught him flat-footed in the act. A faint sound that could only be a snicker echoed briefly in his ear. Peeta had to suppress an eye roll of his own. Damned Finnick anyway. He focused on the dark-haired girl before him and replied without conscious thought, "That is one way to look at it. Not what I prefer, but far be it from me to deny you anything." He shifted until he mirrored her pose: one arm resting on the back of his chair, jacket unbuttoned for comfort, a smirk accentuating the curve of his mouth. "Yours is the first face that has caught my eye this evening. I wanted to see if the rest of you was just as...interesting." He let his gaze slide downward while filling the word with every bit of innuendo that he could muster. He bit his lip to stifle a grin as she stiffened at his tone and suggestive look. "Surely you can't blame me for that."
Again, she managed to surprise him as she rose to her feet in one smooth motion, her dress riding higher on her thigh as she sauntered toward him. Reaching out a hand, she threaded her fingers into his tousled mop of curls and used that grip to force him to meet her fiery gaze. "As I said before, you don't know me. Looks can be deceiving." One hand untangled from his hair and trailed downward to cup his chin. "Something that looks interesting from a distance might not seem so appealing on closer examination. Let's take you for example. From a distance, you have that pretty boy, devil-may-care air about you. You come up to a stranger uninvited, fumble over a simple comment, and when the little boy act doesn't work; you turn on the charm." She sidled in and brought her face closer to his. "It makes a girl wonder which part is real and which is just a game."
Peeta's breath caught as he gazed up into molten silver mere inches away. "All you have to do is ask," he mumbled hoarsely. "I'm a wide open book."
She smiled and without warning lowered her mouth to his. His mind blanked at the sudden contact. He sat passively as her lips moved over his in a tentative caress. He became aware that one hand had encircled her waist. The other grasped the long tail of hair at the base of her neck to hold her steady as his mouth began to match her move for move. Time seemed to flatten out as each second expanded and elongated around them. He breathed her in and held her close as he climbed to his feet. Once there, he tightened his arms bringing her fully against him as their mouths fought each other for dominance.
The chiming of a clock and muffled voices coming closer broke them apart. He hastily loosened his grip and stepped back. She blinked a few times, her expression as dazed as his. Her fingers went immediately to her hair to straighten the few tendrils that had pulled free. He adjusted his jacket and fastened it over his now rumpled shirt. They avoided looking at each other as the sound of footstep rasping on the worked stone floor came near. "Katniss," a low voiced summons called unexpectedly. "Are you here?"
She shot Peeta a panicked look and gestured for him to remain silent. With a few unconscious tugs at her dress, she stepped into the puddle of light that escaped the main room and answered quietly, "I'm here, Plutarch. I just stepped out to get a breath of fresh air. It's stifling inside."
The man, portly and balding, gave her a rueful look as he pulled an ornate watch from an interior pocket and glanced at the time. "My dear, the auction commences in fifteen minutes. We should get downstairs to make sure that you're able to see everything. I'd hate for you to be disappointed." The mysterious Plutarch ran a thumb lazily over the watch casing. It flared with a ghostly form that seemed vaguely familiar to Peeta. Before he could place it, the man closed the watch and held out his arm to the disheveled girl. "Come, my dear. There are still a few items that I think might be of interest to you that you should see before the festivities start. As it is, we'll be here until midnight."
She laughed softly and linked her arm through the man's, rising on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. Plutarch's face flushed and he clumsily patted her hand as they made their way toward the door. She flicked a glance backward to where Peeta remained frozen in the shadows. Just for a second, their eyes caught and held. A funny little smile turned up the corners of her mouth before she crossed the threshold and melted into the teeming crowd. Peeta craned his neck to catch a last glimpse of swinging braid before sinking into his earlier abandoned chair.
"Gale, who is Plutarch?" He mouthed as he stared blindly toward the partially open door. A few moments passed before he heard, "Prominent member of the board of trustees for the Snow collection. Widowed. Has three grown sons: two enlisted and the other is in line to take over the family business. Something entertainment related." Peeta chuckled softly and twitched an eyebrow upward to cut the link. She had foregone her usual backdoor methods and chosen to take the same route as he had to gain entrance to the party. He admired her ingenuity. She had played the game skillfully, meeting and countering his every attempt to put her off her stride. As for the unexpected kiss, Peeta put that aside to be examined later once the job was done.
He climbed to his feet and made his way back inside. He found Delly ensconced with the De Jardins as they dissected the merits of a music festival set to open a few days away. Delly's gaze marked him out and she laid a possessive hand on his arm the moment he came within reach. Peeta smiled slightly and covered her hand with his own as he let his eyes wander about the room. A motion by the door drew his gaze. He saw the dark haired girl and her companion getting ready to leave. She still had a hand threaded through his arm and had taken a final opportunity to sweep the room as her escort issued terse instructions to a harried clerk. She caught his gaze, smirked slightly, and then inclined her head mockingly. He gave a small acknowledging nod in return and had to bite back a bark of laughter as she lightly touched three fingers to her lips and then flicked them in his direction.
Delly's nails digging into his arm drew his attention back to her. "I asked if you were ready to go," she repeated. "The auction will begin shortly. I need to make sure that the lots are staged correctly."
Peeta nodded his acceptance but paused uncertainly, "Am I allowed in that area? I wouldn't want to cause any trouble. I can wait for you or go on down to the main salon."
Delly beamed a brief flash of white teeth showing as she led him to the doorway. "You'll be with me. Of course you're allowed. I thought that it might amuse you to get a sneak peek at some of the relics before they are taken up. It's not usually done but I think that we can make an exception for you." She inched closer and peered up at him through lowered lashes. "After all, you are my guest. That should afford a few extra privileges, don't you think?" He smiled in response and followed at her heels as she entered the narrow byways that led deeper into the building. "This area isn't usually seen by outsiders. These hallways run parallel with the main corridors in the areas of the manor open to the public. They were used primarily by servants and the like. These days, they allow the staff to move about in relative ease even when the house is open for tours. We're using them to move objects to and from the main salon without having to deal with the crowds and cameras."
Peeta's brows rose at the unexpected wealth of information that she had just dropped into his lap. Wary as ever of a trap, he toggled the small switch on the glasses and gave her another encouraging smile. The soft tap that sounded in his ear alerted him to the fact that link between him and Gale was now open and active. The passage was relatively empty except for a few uniformed individuals moving swiftly about their tasks. One of them raised a brow at the sight of Peeta but didn't stop to question his presence. Delly frequently had to stop to handle the odd question or direct a person to the correct doorway or hallway. She glanced at him frequently but didn't speak again until they came to an area teeming with people. It was crowded with display cases and transport devices. A set of double doors opened onto the main salon where the auction was just minutes away from starting.
Delly turned to him expectantly. "Did you have a particular item that you were interested in? I can't remove it from the display but there's no harm in letting you have a look."
Peeta shrugged and flipped quickly through the catalog that she handed him. He immediately located the lot containing the Mockingjay pin. He pointed to a picture of a necklace/ring pair that was depicted a few rows down from the pin. "Would it be possible to see those? My boss has a liking for antique jewelry. We've had good luck with them in the past. Those look very interesting. The charm appears to be worked or etched."
Delly gave him a bemused look but led him through the maze of carts and shelves until she came to a glass enclosure that had about twenty items presented inside. Removing a key from her jacket, she unlocked the cabinet and reached inside. The set gleamed against the white silk background of the carved ebony box in which they rested. Peeta looked at Delly for permission and at her nod; he picked up the delicate chain with its matching square shaped charm. He ran a thumb along the edge and was surprised when a latch unhooked and the charm separated along a barely visible seam. The inside contained nothing but bare metal. He closed the locket and flipped it over to examine the carving. The image of the Mockingjay was incised on the locket's exterior. Delly caught his confused look because she bent back to the case and removed the pin itself.
"They weren't made as a set but you wouldn't know that based on appearance alone. We considered showing them together but the board insisted that they stay apart to maintain the integrity of each piece as separate and distinct," she remarked.
He carefully put the locket back in the box and took the proffered pin. The resemblance between the two was indeed stunning. Peeta laid them side by side just to confirm what he already knew. He heard the sharp intake of breath from the transmitter in his ear. Clearly, he wasn't the only one taken by surprise by the appearance of the locket. Peeta picked up the pin as if to examine it more closely but was stopped by a familiar voice.
"Well, well. Looks like I'm not the only one with a curious guest this evening," Plutarch Heavensbee commented jovially. "This young lady also expressed an interest in looking around before the festivities commence."
Mercurial eyes watched him carefully from where she stood. Plutarch motioned her forward and clasped her elbow as he turned back to the others. "May I present Katniss Everdeen? She is a studying fashion design with Cinna De Rosier. Katniss wants to be the next Portia D'Anjou."
Peeta politely inclined his head but remained silent. He made no indication that he had met her just moments ago. Delly effusively greeted the girl, exclaiming over the studied simplicity of her dress and hair. Coming from the elaborately coiffed woman, the remark could be taken as either complimentary or as a thinly veiled jab at her lack of panache. Katniss seemed to take it as the former, judging by the pleased expression on her face.
Unfazed by the exchange, Plutarch continued warble on incessantly. "Cinna contacted my office to see if I would give her a chance to view some of the collection's best examples of Portia's early work. It appears that your gentleman friend has similar tastes, Ms. Cartwright."
Delly smiled benignly and commented, "Yes it does, Mr. Heavensbee. Peeta deals in antiques. He expressed an interest in the locket and pearl set. He didn't realize the pin was so similarly made. We were just comparing the designs."
Katniss came forward and bent over the display as Delly pointed out the likeness between the two pieces. Peeta kept his eyes on the pair, well aware that there was another game being played. The rules were vague and ill-defined but he could feel a sense of unease as he watched the two women. Knowing who Katniss was made it all the more important that he stay close to her. The pin couldn't be allowed to fall into her hands.
A hand on his arm drew his attention briefly away as Plutarch clasped him warmly on the shoulder. "Well, my boy. Ms. Cartwright said that you deal in antiques. Is that under your own auspices or do you work for someone?"
Peeta shook his head as he met the man's inquisitive gaze. "I work for Castor and Pollux, Mr. Heavensbee. My specialty is art and antiquities. I've only recently taken an interest in jewelry. Portia D'Anjou was considered quite radical in her early work. It's very rare to have them come on the market. Most are held in private collections and rarely seen."
Plutarch gave a benign smile. "Coriolanus Snow was an avid collector who was known for his fine eye. There is an extensive collection of paintings that I would be pleased to have your opinion on. Shall we have a look now before they are taken up?"
Peeta's mind raced as he tried to come up with a reasonable excuse. The man seemed unaware of his struggle because he prattled on as he motioned for Peeta to follow him. Unable to find a way around it, Peeta trailed behind the man. He shot a futile glance over his shoulder at the pair. Katniss was speaking quietly while Delly looked on in absorbed interest. His jaw twitched as if in annoyance but the action had a different purpose. "Phoenix," he mouthed. "No joy. Confirm. No joy." A quiet click sounded in his ear. Peeta jaw clinched in frustration. Undeterred, he gave sent a follow up message. "Begin slow burn. Acknowledge." A faint chime hissed in response.
A yellow dot flickered at the edge of his vision. Peeta let out a slow breath in relief. At least his backup was working according to plan. The tag he had put on her while they kissed wasn't likely to be found unless she unbound her hair completely. He felt an unexpected twinge of guilt but shunted it aside. The mission was paramount to everything else. The perplexing girl intrigued him but he still had a job to do. Securing or destroying the pin demanded every bit of his attention and focus. The rest of it would have to wait.
He managed to placate the man with a few noncommittal remarks on the assembly of paintings. Plutarch listened enthusiastically and even made notes in a little book that he tucked inside his jacket. It wouldn't surprise Peeta at all if the artwork he has spoken particularly well of found their way into the man's home. They returned to the two women who continued to chat amiably. Peeta let a small smile peek out as his look swung from one to the other. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He asked courteously.
Katniss returned the smile with one of her own, "I did. Thank you for asking. I never thought that I'd get the opportunity to see such fine examples of her work." Peeta couldn't keep the open amusement from his face as he watched her. A faint tinge of pink coloring her cheeks was the only outward sign that she gave. "Thank you for giving me the chance, Ms. Cartwright. I greatly appreciate it."
Delly nodded graciously and then gave Peeta a coquettish look. "Shall we go? I should make sure that everything is in place. We're on a very tight schedule this evening and I have plans for later that simply can't be changed." Her suggestive look at Peeta left very little doubt of what her plans entailed.
His salvation came in a most unlikely form. Plutarch Heavensbee rubbed his hands together delightedly and remarked, "You are quite right, Ms. Cartwright. We do need to make sure that everything is running smoothly. Come with me, my dear. I'm sure that Mr. Mellark can spare you for a few minutes. Would you mind keeping Katniss company? I wouldn't want to leave her own her own."
Peeta immediately blanked his expression and shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't mind if she doesn't. We can make the rounds together."
Katniss wasn't nearly as adept at hiding her unease. Somehow, she managed a thin smile as she replied, "I don't mind at all if it's not too much trouble. I don't want to ruin your evening."
Peeta quirked an ironic brow in her direction but didn't respond. Delly huffed in annoyance but allowed Plutarch to lead her off. Peeta couldn't stop the quiet sigh of relief that escaped him as he watched the leggy blonde being led away. A quiet chuckle drew his gaze to the dark haired girl who stood with a hand raised to her lips to stifle her laughter. "Something funny?" He questioned mildly.
Katniss's smile widened as she answered, "That wasn't very polite of you. She's going to be so disappointed when you don't show up as promised."
His shoulders shook as he laughed silently. "I don't really care if she's upset or not. Being polite isn't high on my list of priorities."
She made as if to smile but quickly schooled her expression. "I can find my own way, Mr. Mellark. I'm long past the age of needing a babysitter. Thanks anyway."
He caught her arm as she turned away dismissively. "I know that, Katniss. I have other reasons for wanting to be here." His fingers tightened on her wrist pulling her gaze up to his. "I know that you have it. You didn't pass up such a perfect opportunity." Her gray eyes widened and her arm twisted in his grasp as she attempted to jerk free. "Don't misunderstand me, Flame. I admire your courage and respect your skills but I can't let you take that pin out of here."
She let out an audible gasp at the sound of that name on his lips. Her attempts to free herself ceased as she met that unblinking blue gaze. "What did you call me?" She demanded. "You're out of your mind. I've taken nothing."
Peeta grinned at her stubborn denial. Keeping a firm grip on her wrist, he ran his other hand over her scantily clad form. She let out a muttered oath as his fingers trailed over her breasts and thighs. He felt a blush burn its way toward his hairline but didn't pause in his examination. "Where is it, Katniss?" He questioned. His hand skimmed along her neckline and over the strap that covered one shoulder. She shuddered as his light touch traced the curve of her neck, underneath the braid, and down the length of her spine. "Where is it?" He asked huskily. The darkened blue irises and roughened tone gave him away. He wasn't as unaffected as he appeared.
She stepped closer, bringing herself into the circle of his arms. They stood toe to toe, chest to chest; eyes clashing as neither backed down or moved aside. "Why would I tell you after I went to all this trouble? That's assuming that I actually took it which I didn't. I don't owe you anything."
He blew out a frustrated breath and used his grip on her arm to bring her more firmly against him. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. I don't want to see you hurt. Give it to me now and walk away. I won't follow you. I won't let anyone else bother you. You have my word."
She looked at him in disbelief. "Why would you care what happens to me? You don't know anything about me, Mellark. Anything at all." She tilted her head and studied him closely. "You are right about one thing. I don't know what's so special about that pin. It's not especially pretty and too big to wear comfortably. I don't see what all the fuss is about."
He let his anger color his response. "That's irrelevant. All that you need to know is that it's important. They won't let you leave here with it. You can give it to me and walk away or take your chances. They won't hesitate to kill you if they have to, Katniss. It's not worth your getting hurt. The people that hired you don't care what happens to you as long as they get what they want."
She paused, clearly taken aback. Her eyes scanned his face as she tried to gauge his motives. Whatever she saw seemed to surprise her. She closed her eyes and dropped her chin into her chest. "You don't know what you're asking. They didn't hire me, Peeta. I didn't have a choice. I was told to come here, get the pin, and bring it back. Plutarch's job was to get me in and give me a clear shot. It's up to me to get myself out without getting caught. I can't give it to you. If I do, they'll kill my sister."
Peeta's mouth fell open. Nothing could have shocked him more than those words. His mind furiously ran through every scenario he could devise. She watched him, worry evident in every line of her body. He rubbed a hand through his hair as he stared at her desperately. "Let me take you to my boss. We can help you. We can keep you safe and figure out how to get your sister back to you in one piece."
She frantically shook her head, "Peeta, it's impossible. They gave me a deadline. I have to be at the meeting place with the pin in less than an hour. If that doesn't happen, they will kill her." She dropped her hands to her sides and met his look unflinchingly. "You keep me here and that's what's going to happen." Peeta's hands knotted together as he turned a frustrated glare on the girl who looked at him so sadly. "I can't let you leave with that pin," he bit out.
She smiled sadly and nodded once in resignation, "If you don't, you might as well kill me yourself."
He growled out an oath and dropped her hand as he began to pace back and forth. Suddenly, he swung to face her once more. "How do I know this isn't a lie? It could be a story that you made up just in case you were caught. How do I know this is real, Katniss?"
She threw out her hands helplessly, "You don't know. You can't. You have to trust me. But remember this, Peeta. I've never done a job like this before now. I've always moved in the shadows and yet here I am coming in through the front door. Why would I change my tactics now? I've never been caught. I'm not lying, Peeta. I have no reason to."
It was his turn to stare as he turned the facts over in his mind. He met her anxious silvery gaze and felt his stomach quiver in response. He knew what he had to do. His mind made up; he motioned for her to follow. They ducked into the labyrinth of small passageways and retraced his earlier path. He stopped her just outside the staging room and tucked his fingers into her braid. She leaned into his touch and let her eyes slide closed. Peeta's lips curled in response but he made a conscious effort to ignore the effect her simple actions brought about. He plucked the transmitter that he had planted earlier out of her hair and crushed it between his fingers. She narrowed her eyes on the squashed remnants before they swung accusingly up to meet his. He held up a cautioning hand and tapped his left ear. She nodded in understanding.
He opened the door leading outside and led her into the darkness. The dusky material of their clothing blended into the night that enveloped them like a shroud. Her hand found his in the blackness, their fingers intertwining. He flashed a grin, his teeth pale in the shadowy gloom. They had to stop frequently when an errant patrol passed close by. During those few brief moments, she pressed into his back. Peeta squeezed her fingers reassuringly and then angled away from the path to cross the wide expanse of grass that sloped downward to a small copse of trees.
He halted and turned to face her, his face a study of angles and shadows in the dappled light filtering through the trees. "This is as far as I can take you. Keep going until you reach the lake. Follow the shoreline until you reach the far side. That's out of range of any of our surveillance equipment. I know you can move without being seen. Keep moving and don't stop until you have to. I'll hold them off as long as I can."
She couldn't hide the faint sheen of tears glazing her eyes as she turned to face him. Her arms found their way about his neck as his wound about her waist. She raised her lips to his and sighed softly as their mouths met. The kiss was light and fleeting, a promise of what could be had they met in another time and place. They broke apart and pressed their foreheads together as breath and pulse steadied.
"Thank you," she whispered and pressed her fingers affectionately against his cheek. "I can't repay you for what you've done."
"Just be safe," he returned just as quietly. "That's all the repayment I need. If you can, let me know that you're okay."
She took a few hesitant steps away and then turned back. "What about you?" She asked quietly. "Will you be okay?"
His cocky grin gleamed white in the darkness. "Don't worry about me," he stated. "I always land on my feet. It's what I do. I'm known for it."
She cocked her head inquiringly, "Do I finally get to find out what they call you? It's only fair. You know mine."
Peeta laughed softly and let his hands find hers once more. "Yes, I do know yours. The irony is thick considering what has happened." She gave him a puzzled look which brought forth another low laugh. "Phoenix. They call me phoenix. I have a habit of getting out of situations that would burn others to the ground. They think that I have to have the fire to keep going. Maybe they were right?"
It was her turn to grin widely. "Maybe so," she stated. "Thank you, Peeta, for everything." She kissed him once more, softly and warmly before pulling away. "Good bye." His low reply was lost in the freshening wind that brought with it carrying voices. He waved her onward and watched wistfully as she gave him a last lingering look before disappearing into the darkness.
He stared after her for many long moments, his heart tripping uneasily in his chest. Once she was safely gone, he headed back. He didn't think about what awaited him once Haymitch found out what he had done. He thought of the girl. He thought of promises kept and possibilities unseen. He thought of stolen kisses and memories that grew more precious with each passing breath. He would pay a price for letting her go. It was worth it, he decided. More than worth any price he had to pay.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Two weeks later, the package arrived. Peeta stared at it unblinkingly until a cleared throat pulled his attention back to the present. Finnick stood just inside the door watching him carefully. He gave the man a lopsided grin and motioned for him to take a seat.
"Are you going to open it?" Finnick asked as he took his seat.
Peeta shrugged as his eyes found the package once more. "I don't know. I want to but I don't know if I should."
Finnick rolled his eyes and laughed at the irate expression that crossed Peeta's face. "You risked everything for her. You took a big chance that could have blown up in your face. But you're still here, Peeta. You owe it to yourself to see it through to the end. Open the damned box." He climbed to his feet and headed for the door. Catching sight of Peeta's evident surprise, Finnick chuckled. "I'll leave you to it but I expect a full report later." Peeta snorted but gave him a small appreciative nod.
The door clicked shut behind his friend and brought Peeta's attention back to the innocuous box sitting on the table. He wrangled his courage and tore into the box, flinging paper and Styrofoam packing material aside. The smaller box was buried within and easily overlooked. He pulled it out and set it on the table before him. Pushing back the lid, he let out a bark of laughter at the dull gleam of gold that caught and refracted the light. He removed the Mockingjay pin from its nest of white velvet and cradled it lovingly in his hands. He started at the feel of something softer than metal beneath his fingers. Turning the pin over, he spotted the small black dot nestled into the stylized feathers on the birds arching back. Peeta grinned and went to his desk to retrieve a small set of tweezers from a drawer. He carefully removed the dot and looked at it closely. Just as he thought. He pulled out a clean piece of paper, laid it flat on the desktop, and flicked on the lamp. He then brought the tiny sliver of plastic into the beam and waited. The words projected on the page were haphazard and almost illegible. To Peeta, however, they were as clear as a midday sky.
In slanted scrawl, he read 'I'm a wide open book.' Below the line were an address and a time. He let out a relieved breath followed by a delighted laugh. Committing the information to memory, he smashed the chip and ground the pieces into dust. He was on his way out when he heard someone shouting his name. Turning back, he met Finnick Odair's amused gaze.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Finnick asked laughingly.
Peeta grinned, "Yeah, I think I did. Sorry to run off but I've got somewhere I've got to be. I left Haymitch a little present on my desk. Make sure he gets it."
"I'll bet you do," Finnick said. "I'll take care of it." He waved Peeta away lazily. "Go on. Get out of here." Peeta turned away again only to stop at the sound of Finnnick's mocking laughter. He gave his friend an exasperated look which only caused Finnick to laugh harder. "Tell her I'm a fan of her work and that she shouldn't be a stranger," Finnick announced.
"I'll see what I can do," Peeta grinned and headed for the door once more. He had places to go...and his girl with the braid to see.