"BT, should we even be in here?" Peeta lifted the bottle of cheap beer to his lips, sucked the amber liquid down greedily. It wasn't as cold as it should have been - but right now he wasn't going to complain about contraband alcohol that they'd scored from his roommate's older brother. He leant against the wall, crossed one foot over the other while he waited for a reply. Thunder rumbled outside, and a flicker of lightning cracked through the window at the end of the hall, splitting the darkness and the silence. It kind of added to the whole 'you shouldn't be here' feeling that was coursing through him.
The normally straight-laced science major shrugged in reply, clamped the flashlight between his teeth as he manipulated the electronic locking panel. "Doesn't matter," he mumbled. "They won't let me work with this machine during the day, and I want to try it."
"I think it's stupid that we're buzzed and instead of going out and doing crazy shit, we're breaking into a science lab." Finn, the third in their trio, complained.
"Quit whining," Peeta told him. "You know as well as I do that BT has been bitching about this for weeks, and if we don't do it now, he'll never shut up about it."
"I wasn't bitching," BT disagreed, taking the flashlight from his mouth as the electronic panel beeped twice and the door swung open. "But how am I supposed to continue learning if they won't let me use the equipment?"
"Listen to him," Finn joked. "Even after a couple of beers, he still speaks better than I do sober."
Peeta grinned, and followed his two friends into the science lab. It was the first time either he or Finn had ever been in there - as freshman art and drama majors respectively, they'd never had a reason to visit the building that BT seemed to live in day and night. But he'd been bitching (he could argue all he wanted, but bitching was exactly what he'd been doing) about this new machine that he wasn't allowed to use. And as BT was used to not taking no for an answer, he'd somehow convinced the two of them to break in with him late on a Friday night.
A Friday night with the boys, beers and bunson burners. Yeah, they were class A rebels.
"What does this machine do anyway?" Finn asked as they wound their way towards the back of the room.
"Manipulating molecules is the simplest way I can explain such a complex machine," BT replied, taking a final swallow of his beer before depositing the empty bottle into the backpack he had slung over his shoulder.
"Of course," Finn rolled his eyes, but smirked nonetheless.
They followed him to the machine that took up the entire corner of the lab and Peeta studied it with the eye of someone who had no idea what they were looking at. The machine was as tall as Finnick, and as wide as it was high, its outer shell blinding white like snow. Multi-coloured buttons and levers dotted the side, and numerous glass panels connected a long, thin mechanical arm that stuck out at a 45 angle.
"Looks complicated, man," Peeta said. "Do you know what you're doing with this?"
BT smiled, pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Of course I do. Sit, guys, have another drink. I'm going to play around for a bit before I test anything."
Happy to take BT's direction, both Finn and Peeta pulled themselves up onto one of the long counters, cracked open another two beers, and clinked them together. They watched as BT consulted an electronic tablet, pressed buttons at what looked to Peeta to be in a random pattern, but what he knew was anything but. A small screen on the machine showed a series of symbols and letters, and each time BT entered something on the tablet, a new row of text would appear.
Rain began to pour down outside in icy sheets, hitting the window pane in a rhythmic pattern that was compounded by the continued thunder. BT muttered to himself - words and phrases that sounded like a foreign language to Peeta - and excitement emanated from him in waves. It might not have been the most thrilling night they'd had since they'd arrived on campus, but it was relaxed. And sometimes, that was just what he needed.
"So, Peet, you reckon I should ask that Anne girl out?" Finn asked, breaking into his thoughts and leaning back on the countertop, resting on a palm as he sipped from his beer.
Peeta snorted. "You do realise she thinks you're an egomaniac, right?"
"No she doesn't."
"Yeah she does."
"No, I just think-"
"Shit!"
They both glanced over to see BT holding a hand to his head, and a cracked panel of glass in the machine. His glasses were skewed on his face, and he looked bewildered and lost.
"Dammit, what the hell happened?" Peeta asked, hopping down from the bench, Finn following close behind.
"I don't know," BT replied, shaking his head in confusion. "It was strange, like one minute the glass was fine, and then the lightning cracked outside, and the panel did too. Almost at the same moment."
"I knew this was a bad idea," Finn sighed. "I bet this will cost my entire salary for the rest of my life to get fixed."
"No, no, it's fine," BT assured him. He handed the tablet to Finn. "Hold this. I'm just going to try and remove the panel and see if I can repair it. It's just glass, after all, it should be fine."
He moved to the mechanical arm, shifting it so that he could swing underneath to pop the mechanism that held the panels in place.
"Geez, careful where you point that thing!" Peeta laughed, as the end swung in front of him, and he found himself staring down the barrel of a thin, black barrel. "I don't want to appear in a re-enactment of Honey I Shrunk the Kids, buddy."
"Haha," BT replied, rolling his eyes. He reached for the mechanism, and they all heard the pop as it released.
And then there was a crack of thunder, a shot of lightning, and everything went black.
He could feel the sun on his face, and a slight breeze drifted across his skin. It felt nice - both calming and cooling.
It didn't change the fact that his stomach felt like it was about to turn in on itself, and his head ached like hell.
Shit, he hated hangovers.
With a groan, Peeta ran a hand over his face, felt dampness on his cheeks from the dew in the morning air. They must have gotten absolutely hammered the night before, because he had no clue how he'd gotten outside, let alone had any idea where he could be. Opening his eyes, he looked above him.
And all he saw was trees, long brown branches wafting in the breeze, their green leaves rustling. Faint streams of sunlight broke through, and he saw the occasional glimmer of blue sky overhead.
How the hell had he gotten into the middle of a forest?
Slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position, he looked around, confirmed that he was surrounded by nothing but woods. And considering the campus was a good half an hour away from anything of the like, Peeta officially now had no idea where he was.
That was the last time he ever let Finn's older brother get them beer.
He dragged himself to his feet, rested a palm against a tree to steady himself. His head spun a little, and his eyes stung; he rubbed at them with clenched fists until the stinging abated. First things first, he needed a drink to soothe his parched throat and get rid of the manky, dirty sock taste he had going on - and then he needed to find Finn and BT.
His first few steps were stumbles, his feet catching on tree roots, and his basic coordination affected by the alcohol. But soon he was moving swiftly enough through the trees, and the pounding in his head had dulled to a vague ache.
It felt like hours later that he found himself on the bank of a lake, its crystal blue waters calling to him. He fell to his knees in the damp mud, lowered his hands into the cool liquid, and cupped them, raising water to his lips. It was possibly the freshest, coldest water he'd ever had, and he gulped at it as though he couldn't get enough.
Leaning back on his haunches, he looked out across the water in front of him, at the expanse of mountains that backed onto it for as far as he could see. It was kind of...majestic, he realised, and wondered how he'd never heard of this place before. It wasn't even occupied - no jetties, or little rowboats, or cabins along the shore.
He was so engrossed in the view that he didn't hear her approach until a sharp point was already pressed coolly against the back of his neck.
"Who the hell are you and where are you from?"
His heart began to pound. Shit, had he trespassed somewhere? "I, uh…" Peeta trailed off, and almost instinctively raised his hands in a surrender motion. "Don't do anything stupid. I'm just getting some water."
"I didn't ask what you were doing, I asked who you were and where you're from. Because you're not from around here."
"I don't think I am," he agreed. "If I promise that I'm not going to hurt you, can I stand?" He heard a deep sigh, a scuffing of feet.
"Hurry up," she demanded shortly, and he slowly rose, turned on the balls of his feet to face her.
His heart did a somersault in his chest, and he felt his stomach pitch from something other than alcohol.
She was stunning. Not pretty in what people would see as the conventional way, but beautiful in every sense of the word. She was petite, no taller than 5'2, her small frame almost shrouded in an oversized leather jacket. Her inky black hair curved over her shoulder in a rumpled braid, and the grey eyes that she had trained on him were smoky and suspicious. A smattering of freckles dusted her cheeks and her lower lip was slightly plumper than the top, although that could simply have been from the way that they were firmed together.
And then he realised she had an arrow nocked on an old wooden bow, aimed straight at his heart.
"Woah!" he exclaimed. "You don't need to aim that at me!"
"I still don't know who you are," she retorted. "So I'll aim it at you for as long as I damn well please. Tell me where you're from. If you're from the Capitol-"
"I'm not from DC," he assured her, and he watched as her brow furrowed in confusion. "My name is Peeta, and I'm from Philadelphia."
"Philadelphia," she repeated, her mouth moving around the word as though it was foreign. "What is Philadelphia?"
"Not what, where," Peeta replied, confusion setting in him as well, and he slowly began to lower his hands. "You have to know of it. I mean, if you live in Pennsylvania-"
"I don't live in Pennsylvania," she snapped, her eyes flashing. "I don't even know what that is either."
"Wait - we're not in Pennsylvania anymore?" he asked. Holy shit, what did they get up to last night after they left the science lab?
"I don't even know what you're talking about!" She advanced on him, so that the point of the arrow was pressed against his chest. "You're in District Twelve, not… Pennsylvania or whatever you're calling it! What district are these places in? Seven? Nine? How did you get here? Did you walk all the way? How did Peacekeepers not catch you?!"
"Woah, STOP!" he demanded. "I don't know what you're talking about. Peacekeepers? Districts? Nine? I don't understand what you're saying."
Suddenly her face cleared, and she lowered the arrow slightly so that it was aimed more towards the ground instead of at him. "Oh, of course," She murmured, more to herself than to him. "I've heard of this before. You must have encountered a Tracker Jacker, and it's making you hallucinate, and forget things."
"Miss, I assure you I haven't taken any drugs," Peeta said, shaking his head. At least, he didn't think he had. "I simply drank a little too much last night, and now I'm...lost."
Her face shadowed again, and her eyes narrowed. "A drunk like Abernathy, I guess. Well, serves you right. I don't know how you got this far from home, but you need to find your way back to wherever you're from before Peacekeepers find you and take you back to answer to President Snow."
"President Obama," Peeta automatically corrected without thinking, and the girl scowled.
"No, President Snow. Don't correct me if you're wrong."
"Uh, I think I know who the President of my own country is."
"Well, you obviously don't if you can't remember that it's Snow. He's not hard to forget."
Peeta opened his mouth, then closed it again as a sinking feeling slid through him. He tried to remember the rest of their night, but he had a complete and utter blank about anything after the science lab, and BT breaking the glass panel and -
"Manipulating molecules is the simplest way I can explain such a complex machine."
Oh god. He remembered some of the crazy conversations they'd had in his high school physics classes. What if...what if…
"What, uh, what year is this?" He asked, swallowing heavily, and she rolled her eyes.
"It's the 74th this year," she told him snidely. "One year off a Quell. Or have you forgotten that too?"
He felt his face pale, felt the headache that had dissipated suddenly re-surge with a vengeance.
Holy shit. He really had no idea where he was.
But more to the point, he was suddenly filled with the terror that he had no idea when he was.
A/N – This is for R. She asked me to write a drabble for her ages ago, topic of my own choosing. I hope you like xo