A/N - The prologue for this story was originally submitted to Fandom4LLS, to raise money for leukemia. I'd like to dedicate this to Baronesskika who really encouraged me to get this done, because we both agreed that an Amelie!Everlark NEEDED to happen.
So...yeah... as I've said, this is based on the film Amelie (which is where the title came from), and if you haven't seen it, you must. You're in for a treat!
Thanks to Court81981 for betaing this so last minute. You're a star!
Tragedy struck the Everdeen family on Katniss' sixth birthday. Full of wonder and excitement at visiting the capital city with her parents and her baby sister, she could never have predicted that the happy family of four that left their suburban home that morning would return the following day as a scant family of two. A drunk driver careening towards them from out of nowhere put a sudden end to the lives of Christopher and Primrose Everdeen.
Nor could Katniss have predicted the change in her mother that the death of her father and sister would bring about. Where once smiles, laughter and music rang out about the Everdeen household, now there was silence. Her mother, once a well-respected doctor, became insular and withdrawn, never touching her remaining daughter unless it was for her monthly check-up. The thrill of being touched by her mother made her heart race, and as such her mother thought she had a heart defect. Declared unfit for school, she was home schooled and left with only her imagination for company.
As she grew older, Katniss found solace in her solitude, cultivating pleasures that she could enjoy alone. At every opportunity she would vanish in to the nearby woods and spend hours climbing trees, watching the wildlife, gathering wild flowers and singing to the birds in the trees…. But never did she get the opportunity to make friends with anyone her own age.
Time did little to ease the wounds that her husband and daughter's deaths opened up in her, and as the years dragged ever onwards, Maria Everdeen became more and more unsociable, until Katniss felt like the two of them were strangers sharing the same roof. Eventually Katniss could stand it no longer and aged eighteen Katniss finally moved away from the oppression of the suburbs and into the city. She began working at the District 12, a struggling bistro-pub on the Southbank, and soon found comfort amongst the regulars.
The District 12 was owned by Sae. Pushing seventy-five, she still showed no signs of slowing down, having lived a rich and varied life. At various points in her life she had been a cabaret singer, a nurse, a taxi-driver, a carer and now she owned this pub, which was only just staying afloat. She could easily have let some of the staff go to save on costs, but Sae wasn't running it for the money. She did it for the people. Sae knew all her regulars by name which was precisely how she liked it.
While working at The District 12, Katniss became good friends with her fellow waitressing staff, Johanna and Madge.
Madge Undersee had lived a sheltered life and had come to the city to prove she could make it alone. So far she was struggling, but refused to ever ask her rich parents for help, preferring instead to spend every minute of every day at The District 12, earning only just enough to keep her head above water. She knew she was working herself into the ground, never having time for fun with friends and certainly never having time to meet anyone of the opposite sex, but her pride dictated that this was the way it always would be.
Johanna Mason lived her life in almost the opposite way. She was a serial monogamist, flitting from one guy to the next, and she spent all her hard earned cash living instead of merely existing.
One of her many conquests, Gale Hawthorne, had been a regular at The District 12 before they had started dating, and had seen no reason to stop frequenting his favourite pub once they split up. However, his jealous nature caused endless friction for Johanna at work, as he ruthlessly spied on her, making snide remarks about every single male customer that she interacted with.
Other regulars at The District 12 included Charlie 'Chaff' Malone, an ex-TV actor who had lost the use of his hand doing a stunt on a motorbike in an episode of The Sweeney in the seventies. He had turned to playwriting as a means of desperately trying to keep within the business that he so loved but was failing to get his work noticed.
Then there was Elaine Seeder, a retired police officer who now lived solely for her bi-monthly visits from her children and grand-children.
So much life. So much potential. And yet, as Katniss saw it, so much underlying sadness. Every day she wished that there was something she could do to bring a spark back to each of their lives, to help them revolt against their own trappings.
But instead, she carried on, merely wishing for something more from her life. If only there could have been someone for her to share her days with, a soul mate that wanted to change the world as she did. But there was no one. She spent her waking life playing the part of the conscientious waitress, living vicariously through Johanna's stories, until the burning desire for something more began to become too much for her to take. She longed for more from this life that she had been granted. It was just that she had no idea precisely what.
It was on the night of the nineteenth of June that Katniss' life irrevocably changed. The television blasting out news was her standard companion in the evening, but she was usually able to ignore the specifics of the background noise. Today, however, the newsreader's voice caught her attention.
"It has been confirmed that Gloss and Cashmere Hendrickson, brother and sister action superstars, have died after being involved in a car crash. It is, as yet, uncertain what the cause of the collision was, although it has been alleged that the pair were trying to avoid unwanted paparazzi attention."
She stared at the television screen, at the twisted carnage that was once a car containing living occupants and was struck with a desperate feeling of isolation, as the recollection of her own loved one's deaths swam back to the surface. If two people who were so universally loved could be struck down at a moment's notice, the same could easily happen to her. And then what? Who would ever remember the life of Katniss Everdeen?
She lay down on her hard, wooden floor, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Christopher and Primrose Everdeen, thinking about Gloss and Cashmere Hendrickson and determined that she would change her life… somehow. But how?
Time slipped away from her as she lay down, listening to the news report about the deaths of the Hollywood stars, until her back grew painful. Rolling over on to her side, she noticed for the first time ever that one of her floorboards was loose. As she pressed down on the slightly raised board she noticed something through the cracks; a shimmer of reflected gold. She pressed her eye to the crack for a closer look but was unable to make anything out. Suddenly all interest in the news report vanished; instead here was a mystery that needed immediate solving.
She quickly retrieved a knife from her kitchen and shimmied it under the loose floorboard in order that she could discover whatever treasure had been hidden there. With a little care she was able to lift the floorboard enough to retrieve the small, and rusted box that had been secreted away. Her breath caught in her throat as she opened the tiny box; a young boy must have stashed this away many, many years ago and forgotten about it, moved away, never remembering that a part of his childhood and been left in this flat. Old photographs, marbles, half-worn down pencils, carved wooden soldiers, bubblegum cards….. This box was a perfect snapshot of the young boy's life, of his loves at the time.
Katniss lovingly poured over each and every item as she tried to imagine the face of the boy who once owned and loved these treasures. Who was he? What was his life like? Who did he become? Where was he now?
That last question she dwelt over the longest. Where was this boy? And how would he feel if Katniss was able to return his childhood to him? The idea grew within her; it ignited a flame such as she had never known. It would become her purpose. Whoever this boy was, whoever he had become, she would find him and return his possessions. If he was touched by the gesture she could rest assured that were her life snuffed out tomorrow, someone, somewhere would have been grateful for her existence.
Unable to sleep due to her mind racing, Katniss lay in bed all night, excited at the prospect of finding and returning the boy's treasures.
Her first stop would be Mr Cray. He had lived in the building his entire life. If anyone were to have any information on the boy and his possessions, it was sure to be him.
Cray's Greengrocer's occupied the ground floor. Cray himself was a lecherous old man, whom Katniss avoided whenever possible. He would always hire the youngest, prettiest girl available as his shop assistant, and Katniss felt tremendous pity for whoever the young girl was. None of them lasted particularly long. She'd heard rumours of Cray making passes at some of his young assistants; none of them seemed to work for him for long, but nothing ever came from these rumours. Whether they were unfounded, or whether the girls were too scared or embarrassed to follow through with their claims, was a mystery.
Sure enough, when Katniss went to speak to him, he had a new assistant with him. Barely eighteen, with large, brown eyes like pools of molten chocolate, and mocha-coloured smooth skin, she looked the very epitome of naïve innocence.
"Excuse me, Mr Cray?" asked Katniss, feeling an intense discomfort as the older man's eyes leered over her body.
Mr Cray turned away from Katniss and spoke to his young assistant. "Head out back for me, would you, Rue? We're running low on apples out the front here. Restock them, there's a good lass."
Rue nodded and headed towards the back of the shop, and Katniss felt her hatred of the man increase when his eyes drifted to the young girl's behind as she walked away.
"Now, where were we, Miss Everdeen?" said the lecherous old man, turning his attention back towards Katniss.
"I was wondering, do you know of a young boy who lived in my flat, maybe in the sixties?"
Mr Cray appeared surprised by the request. "A boy, you say? Hmmm… there was a young lad…. I cannae remember his name though. I tell ye what. Go ask my Aunt and Uncle. After me mam passed, she kept all the landlord records for this place. She'll help you out." Mr Cray wrote a name and address on a piece of paper and handed it to Katniss, taking great care to ensure that he brushed against her hand as he passed it to her.
"Thank you," replied Katniss, repressing a shudder and making sure there was not a single iota of warmth in her voice. As she made to leave to the shop, the young girl reappeared. Katniss offered her an encouraging smile, just as she noticed Mr Cray licking his lips. She stormed out of the shop and read the piece of paper in front of her.
Reginald and Audrey Woof
113 Burrage Road
St John's Wood
NW1
It was just a short trip on the tube to St John's Wood, and Katniss found Mrs Woof to be a most gracious host, as different to her nephew as chalk is to cheese. Mrs Woof insisted that Katniss stay for tea whilst she searched for the appropriate records. Katniss perched delicately on a floral chintz armchair, all the time under the baleful gaze of her ancient husband, Reginald Woof.
Katniss sat in silence, waiting patiently for Mrs Woof to return when the elderly gentlemen spoke. Leaning in towards her, he whispered conspiratorially, "I think his name was Frost."
"I'm sorry?" Katniss whispered in return.
"The man you're looking for. I'm pretty sure his name was Frost. But if I tell you it won't count. I have dementia."
"Ignore him. He has dementia," said Mrs Woof in a tone of authority, returning and placing a tray on the table in front of Katniss. On top of the tray there were three china cups of golden brown tea, each with a biscuit delicately balanced on the edge of the saucer. "Now, let's have a look-see shall we?" She opened an enormous, hand-written book and her eyes scanned over the pages at speed.
Mr Woof rolled his eyes his wife, then offered Katniss a surreptitious wink and reached for a cup of tea and a biscuit. Katniss decided that she liked the elderly gentleman, and no matter what his wife said, she would tell him that she would look for this man 'Frost,' just to appease him.
After a few minutes Mrs Woof made a noise of triumphant declaration. "There! I've found him! Coriolanus Frost. As I recall, he was rather an unpleasant, spoiled child."
Katniss grinned widely at Mr Woof who winked at her once again. "Thank you so much," she said. "Both of you," she added, winking at Mr Woof.
With a name as unusual as 'Coriolanus Frost,' Katniss felt that her quarry would surely be easy to track down, and with a hop in her step, she jumped back on tube. Once home she pulled open her laptop, and typed his name into the search bar.
Just one result came up. Coriolanus Frost, 86 Acton Way, Greenwich.
Satisfied with her day's sleuthing, Katniss pledged to head out to Greenwich on her first available day off.
Two days later, she found herself walking with purpose along the streets of Greenwich. The sun shone down on her, a perfect reflection of her mood. Katniss grinned as she approached the man's house, clutching his box of memories under her arm, and her heart pounded in her chest as she rang his doorbell.
Moments later, a young woman opened the door. Tears were streaming down her face, her thick mascara flowing in rivulets. "Can I help you?" asked the woman, between sobs.
"I'm looking for Coriolanus Frost," said Katniss, a terrible feeling of dread settling over her stomach.
"Oh, my dear," said the woman, her tears flowing faster than ever. "I am so sorry. You missed him. There—" she said, pointing over Katniss' shoulder. "There he is now."
Katniss turned on the spot to see a long, black hearse, followed by a black cab pull up outside the house.
"Excuse me, dear. I am sorry," said the woman, as she left the house and got into the cab.
That was it. Her search was over before it had even truly begun. She felt tearful herself as she navigated her way back to the Docklands Light Railway to take her home. The young boy who had hidden his childhood under the floorboards in her flat had died before ever being reunited with his precious memories. It was a truly depressing thought.
At last, the DLR train descended into Bank Station. It was as crowded as ever and she was jostled from side to side as she made her way towards the Northern line platform. A strange sight caught her eye. Above the crowds, standing on one of the benches lining the station walls, was a striking young man. His unruly blond curls swayed in the breezes created by the trains and even from the other end of the platform she could see his blue eyes sparkling. In his hands he clutched a Polaroid camera and he looked from side to side, at the heaving throng of people before holding the camera up and snapping a shot. Katniss watched as he waved the small square of card through the air as it dried, waiting for the photograph to reveal itself. After a minute or two he put the photo in his pocket and held the camera up again, looking directly at Katniss. Embarrassed that she had been caught watching him, she ducked her head down and moved along the platform and was grateful that at that moment a train began to pull in. Pushing her way on the crowded tube train, she turned around and looked back at him as the doors closed just in time to see him watching her and snapping another image with his camera. His eyes stayed on her until the train began to pull away again, and Katniss found her heart was inexplicably racing uncontrollably fast.
All the way home her thoughts strayed between the blond man taking photographs of crowds at rush hour and the dead man whose box of treasures she now possessed that she carried in her bag.
As she climbed the stairs to her flat, her thoughts were once again fully occupied by the boy. For a shining moment, Katniss felt as though she had a purpose. It had lifted her in a manner that nothing else ever had, but that purpose had been snatched away. She was unsure how she would go back to her every day humdrum life.
A door opened on the second floor as she dejectedly walked past it, and a voice she had never heard before shook her from her melancholy.
"His name is Snow. Not Frost. I think you'd better come in, Sweetheart."
