One

…

Shock

…

As I place the bottle of tequila back behind the counter, I wipe my hands off on the towel that I have tucked into the front of apron that Seneca had recently made a uniform requirement for all the staff at the Arena. Then swiping the twenty off the counter and recognizing the male's nod of thanks I cash the required half into the register and the other into my back pocket. And as I reach for my water bottle under the counter I hear a voice from behind me that is far too familiar.

"Gimme some sugar, baby?"

I rolling my eyes I redirect my attention away from my water bottle that my hand is only inches away from and turn around. "How about some liquor instead?"

Finn smiles as he leans down against the bar. "You really know how to win over a man's heart."

I shake my head, holding back a smile. "What can I get you, Finn?"

"Four beers."

I raise my eyebrow, giving him a questioning look. "Please tell me you're not trying to pick up a girl again with Cato and Marv."

"As much as I wish the fourth beer was for a girl," he tells me, "it's not."

"Oh," I smile, "A male? One of Marv's?"

He shakes his head as I reach under the bar. "Mine."

"Mine? Mine as in yours?"

He nods.

I grasp my hands along the edge of the bar. "The press will have a field day with that, Finn, especially after the whole ordeal a few months when they found you were making an appearance on whatever Jace William's TV show is called to play the role of his ex-boyfriend."

"Not that kind of 'mine,'" he says, taking the beers from my hands and rolling his eyes at me.

I cork my head to the side, confused. "Then who is this male that isn't a 'mine,' but is a 'mine?'"

"My step-brother."

"Your step-brother," I exclaim, "Since when in hell have you had a step-brother?"

He shrugs. "Eight years."

"Seriously? Are you messing with me?" I question, leaning back on my heels and watching him diligently with a close eye.

He shakes his head. "Cross my heart hope to die."

Still unconvinced I ask, "Why haven't I met this step-brother of yours or even heard of him for that matter as you basically tell me every single detail about your life?"

"He's been gone for a couple of years. He just got back yesterday from a year down in South America the other day so Cato decided we should take him out for drinks, to celebrate."

"Mhm." I say looking around the bar to quickly see if Gale or Thom are in need of any relief before turning my attention back to Finn. "A couple years in South America? For what? An overextended vacation? Oh wait, to please you're Hollywood life was it for rehab?"

He gives me a stern look, "Peeta is the last person you would see in rehab."

I put my hands up in surrender.

He lets out a breath. "He's a good guy, respectable."

"He's related, associated with you."

"You have such little faith, Katniss."

"The world isn't that bright of a place, Finn."

He smiles. "The paparazzi's' cameras help a bit."

"Sadly not enough."

He opens his mouth to say something, but somewhere behind him a voice calls out from the crowd that sounds a lot like Cato's telling Finn to hurry the hell up.

So giving me a look I nod my head, excusing him. And then letting out a breath he unwillingly pushes his body back off the bar and then with his four beers in hand he gives me a smile. "He's one of the best doctors aboard out there. He did good in Honduras."

He tells me quickly and without warning, making me question myself whether or not he had actually spoken or not. And then before I can process what he said, he disappears into the crowd.

...

"Hey? Catnip?"

I snap out of the truants I unnoticeably fell into, nearly dropping the glass in my hands.

"Hey," he says, resting his hand on my shoulder. "Catnip?"

I nod, setting the glass down.

"You okay?"

I nod.

Gale leans back on his heels crossing his arms across his chest and raising his chin tall all before taking in a deep breath, his appearance telling me he doesn't believe me even before his words say so as he ask, "Really?"

I nod.

"Katniss." He tells me, using my full name, telling me he's serious.

I look down at my hands.

"Katniss."

I shrug my shoulders, still looking down.

"Hey," he says stepping and cupping my chin in his hand so I look at him. "What's wrong?"

"It's just my back," I tell him as I attempt to bend back.

"You're back?"

I nod. "Between stocking yesterday's delivery and not stretch this morning after my run I probably messed it up. It's fine, I'll take an aspirin when I get home and be fine by tomorrow."

He nods his head, carefully watching me. "Stretch next time, okay?"

"Okay."

"And let me stock the next shipment when it comes in," he tells me as he rounds the bar to the back, "Can't have you getting hurt and leaving me hear day in and day out with Thom."

Thom must hear year this as he shouts "hey" from somewhere in the back room causing me to crack a smile, agreeing with Gale, "Okay."

…

I slow down my pace as I turn into the red brick driveway till I am walking. Hands above my head I take deep breaths in through my nose and breathe out through my mouth, attempting to steady out my heartbeat.

"How far ya run, sweetheart?" I hear Haymitch ask from the front porch.

"A little over ten." I tell him, taking in another breath.

"Run down to Sunset Strip?"

I nod.

"And then up to the sign?"

I nod again.

He nods too, setting the paper in his hands on unoccupied chair beside the one he sits in. "I got some of your mail again in my box."

"Anything good?" I ask knowing the old man no doubt skimmed over the return addresses on whatever envelopes were slipped into his box.

He shrugs. "New Thai food place."

"Overpriced?"

He nods. "Just about double that fancy Chinese food place we ordered from a month ago." He pauses. "I threw it out."

"In the trash or the recycling bin?"

"Recycling bin, sweetheart. I didn't feel like you coming after me with an axe or something."

I smile. "Coming after you with an axe or something wouldn't stop you from screwing up our environment."

"Hey," he says in protest, "ever since you got me those bins for my papers and my bottles I have been doing pretty good, recycling and stuff."

I nod, holding back a snort at his "recycling and stuff" comment.

"And I even watered you tomato and string bean plants today in the back." He says with an arrogant, in-your-face grin.

I raise my eyebrow.

"You're supposed to say thank you, sweetheart."

I roll my eyes. "I should have never told you that I got a degree in earth and environmental science."

"You should have never answered my add in the paper."

I shrug my shoulder, dropping my hands from above my head down to my side. "You had the basics and were too cheap for me to say no to, Haymitch, you basically set me up."

"Plus I offered you breakfast on Sundays when you signed the lease."

"You have been making me make you breakfast for the four years every Sunday."

And this time he smiles. "Hey, the place was cheaper than a college dorm and better than the Y."

I cock my head to the side shrugging, joking with him.

"Yeah, whatever." He shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "Go get a shower sweetheart, you stinking up the block."

"That's you." I shoot back as I make my way around the house on the red brick path that leads to the staircase Haymitch had put in when I answered to the add in the paper, making the upper level of his home into a comfortable apartment for myself.

"Put your mail under the door," he yells.

I yell back a "thanks" to which he no doubt shakes his head before picking up his paper and reading again. And I climb the steps to the top, opening the door to my apartment and slipping inside.

…

Thom nods his head toward the man with blond hair that had been sitting at the corner of the bar for nearly the last thirty minutes now.

"What," I ask.

He shrugs. "He's not a usual or even a camillian."

And he's not. I don't recall ever seeing him since I started working here a few months before my graduation back in the spring. He wasn't a usual nor was he one or those that drifted in and out without a care, fitting in with the crowd. He looked completely lost and a little uncomfortable.

Setting down the glass in my hand, I leave Thom's side and walk over in front of the man.

"Hey." I say causing him to look up.

He nods.

"Refill," I ask, pointing to his empty beer.

"Yeah sure."

Nodding my head, I take the empty bottle and discard it under the counter before pulling out a fresh bottle, popping off the top and setting it in front of him.

"Thanks," he tells me as he grasps the bottle in his hand and takes a drink. And then he sets it down back on the counter he looks up at me surprised.

"Is there something on my face?"

I shake my head.

"Um, something in my teeth?"

Again, I shake my head.

He looks at me confused and a little self-conscious. "What is it?"

"This really isn't your scene." I state.

"What makes you say that," he asks, taking another drink.

"Well, first off you're sitting alone at a bar. You're avoiding eye contact with just about everyone except for myself and you haven't once said a more to anyone beside one of us bartenders to order another drink. You're really not dressed to impress nor have you've shown any interest in impressing anyone. Your shoulders are locked and tight, saying that you're uncomfortable. You reach for your pocket every couple of minutes checking your phone as if you've missed a text from someone that will save you from this hell. And if this is your scene, you have a really bad way of showing it."

He smiles. "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? I do all the talking and you listen?"

"You weren't offering much to listen to."

His smile widens, showing his teeth. "Fair enough."

I nod. "So I take it you're meeting someone."

"Yeah," he nods, "We came here a week ago and today he gave me a call. I was supposed to meet him forty minutes ago."

A boy comes up beside the man and ask me for two beers which I hand over to him for a twenty dollar bill in exchange.

"He sounds like my friend Finn." I tell him.

His ears perk up and he raises his eyebrow. "Finn? Finnick Odair?"

I cautiously nod my head.

"That's who I'm meeting." He tells me.

I look him up and down, taking him in. Tall stature. Broad shoulders. Well built. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin. Chiseled jaw. Few freckles. Callused hands. Worn watch. Rope bracelets. Gray t-shirt. Plain jeans. Black Chucks.

"I just got back to town last week," he tells me.

And just as I am about to open my mouth, I am cut off.

"Peeta!"

The blond hair man in front of me turns his head to face the voice, to face Finn who pulls him into a quick hug, clapping him on the back before taking the open stool beside… Peeta.

"Katniss Everdeen," Finn says to me, "please meet Peeta Mellark, my step-brother."

…

"So you were actually apart of doctors aboard program down in Honduras?"

Peeta nods.

"Really?"

He laughs a little. "I know, it's odd, especially with Finn as my step-brother."

"When he told me he had a step-brother I kind of thought you would be a more bronze image of him."

He laughs again, smiling too so that his teeth show. "I guess I see what you're saying, but it's a bit of an odd picture and a little judgmental.

I shrug. "I'm human.

He nods.

"At least it's not as odd as not knowing who Finnick Odair is," I tell him.

He looks at me funny, finishing off his beer. "You didn't know who Finnick Odair was?"

I nod my head as I pour a round of shots before handing the new waitress whose name I yet to pick up.

A shit-eating smile spreads across his face. "Wow, that's like a kick to the balls for my brother. I mean, that's like deflating his ego and shredding it to pieces."

I roll my eyes. "How many people in Honduras know Finn?"

He smiles. "Surprisingly a lot, they like his movies.

Again I roll my eyes, turning to serve a group of girls a few seats down from Peeta.

"How did he take that?" He asks as I step back toward his way, looking over at Finn and Cato over his shoulder who is flirting with a group of girls, "You not knowing him."

"Not well."

He continues to smile. "Oh, come on. Tell me how much a pain in the ass he was, indulge me."

I smile, shaking my head. "Another," I ask pointing to his empty bottle.

"Will you tell me what Finn did?"

I shrug. "Maybe."

"Fine then," he agrees, "another."

I swipe the bottle away and replace it, filling another order before turning back to Peeta.

"What did he do," he asks.

I let out a breath. "Well after making one appearance and then another during my first week working here, he ended up figuring my section of the bar and so being the man-on-a-quest he is, he was seated in my section by my second week here."

"Really? On purpose?"

I look to him as if he's an idiot.

"Right," he says to himself, "stupid question."

I continue. "He was flirty and persistent and - and Finn."

"And you," he ask.

"I wasn't interested."

"Really?" He asks astonished.

I give him a look. "Do you want to hear the story?"

He snaps his jaw shut, nodding.

"He made sure to sit in my section each time he came. One of the nights somehow in conversation it came up that I had never seen any of his films nor had I known he was famous till I heard girls whispering one night when he came into the bar."

"Not one film?"

I shake my head.

"Wow," he smiles, "You are a wonderful women."

I let out a soft snort, continuing. "Well, being Finn he stayed to past closing and basically kidnapped me."

"Kidnapped?" Peeta exclaims.

I shrug, "More or less. He told me that he would not allow me to go home or l leave the bar until I came with him and saw one of his 'masterpieces.' I don't know how it happened, but the next thing I knew I was in his car and he was driving me into Los Angeles."

Peeta nods, taking a drink from his beer. "Sorry for that hell."

I shrug. "It wasn't too bad."

He raises his eyebrow at me, challenging me.

"Okay, it was." I give in.

He laughs. "What movie did he make you watch?"

…

"Vick," I yell. "Take my place."

He nods his head with excitement, popping off the patch of grass he sits on the sidelines and sprinting to the infield. The other team swaps out players too and Gale gives me a confused look, but I shake my head, jogging off the field.

The game starts up again and I take my place on the sidelines.

It goes on for another twenty minutes or so until the guys we began to pickup game of football with an hour ago decide call it quits and Gales come jogging over toward me. He slows when he gets close before popping a squat near where I lay in the grass.

"You okay?"

I nod, lifting my body up on my elbows which in reality only makes my body hurt more and possible even let a pained expression overtake my face for a mere second.

He looks me up and down, pressing. "Catnip."

"It's just my back," I promise.

"Wasn't that hurting you a few days ago?"

I shrug.

He looks me up and down again as if he looked hard enough he would be able to pinpoint the spot it hurt the most.

"I'm fine." I promise. "I just need to stretch."

He still watches me carefully, unconvinced.

"I'm getting old," I attempt to joke; "Some achy bones are expected."

He rolls his eyes. "You're twenty-two, Katniss."

I quickly shift off the subject, putting my hand out for Gale to take. "Help me and maybe we can go to Sae's before our shift tonight if we get the hell out of here?"

…

"You know counting cards is illegal? Right, sweetheart?"

I smile, watching Haymitch reshuffle the deck, "I wouldn't say I'm card counting."

He grunts, dishing out card.

We play in silence. Haymitch dealing and I whooping ass. Each time I win he mutters a curse under his breath and something about how if we were in Vegas my ass would be handed to me by some casino security. Yet, each time once he's done mumbling he takes a drink, collects the cards, reshuffles them, and then dishes them out again, repeating the entire process.

After the fourth or fifth hand, he finally speaks up again.

"Heard Hollywood has a brother."

I look up from my hand, "Oh yeah? And who did you hear that from?"

"Gale," he shrugs. "The boy asked if you have mentioned him when he came to pick you up after breakfast on Sunday."

"Hu?" I say confused. "Why was Gale asking you if I mentioned Peeta to you?"

Again, he shrugs. "I'm not a mind reader, sweetheart."

I roll my eyes. "You're the one that brought it up."

He thinks about it for a moment before looking at his cards and folding. He pushes the plastic coins toward me and I hand him my cards. He shuffles and deals again.

"I think the boy was jealous."

I neatly laugh. "Jealous?"

He nods.

"Really? This is Gale were talking about?"

He nods again.

"Haymitch, I've only met Peeta two or three times. It's not like I'm going to make him my new best friend. Gale has nothing to be jealous about, even worried about to say at all."

Haymitch shakes his head, tossing a coin into the center of the table. "You're thinking of the wrong kind of jealousy, sweetheart."

"What are you talking about," I question him.

He tosses anything coin into the center of the table. "Just think about it."

…

Scrolling through page after page of the internet I never really click on any of the websites, but read their headline and the little description or expert below before moving on to the next one. As I take a drink of my coffee, clicking to continue onto the next page I hear a voice draw me out from my one personal world and back to reality.

"Katniss?"

Looking up I see Peeta. Tall stature. Broad shoulders. Well built. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin. Chiseled jaw. Few freckles. Callused hands. Worn watch. Rope bracelets. Tank top. Plain jeans. Black Chucks. Coffee cup.

"Hey Katniss," he smiles, "Didn't know you went here."

I nod. "The only coffee play in town I have even enjoyed in the last four years."

He nods. "Finn recommended."

"And I recommended it to Finn," I smile.

He smiles too. "Well thank you, they got great hot teas." He tells me, gesturing to his coffee cup.

I nod in agreement and we fall into an awkward silence.

"Um," he says, shuffling on his feet. "Is it okay if I - if I sit down," he says motioning to the empty seat in front of me.

I nod my head and he pulls out the wooden chair, setting his tea down on the table and pulling in his seat. Again we fall into another awkward silence, Peeta drinking his tea and I uncomfortable sitting in my seat as I look through website after website.

After a while, Peeta finally ask, "Are you okay?"

"My back has been hurting me."

He nods. "Top or lower back?"

"A little bit above my lower back," I try to explain, "but not so much that you would consider it to be my middle back."

Again he nods, asking another question. "What fine of pain?"

I shrug, trying to think of the words. "It's kind of uncomfortable. Sometimes, when I move a certain way or a little too quick it'll feel worse, but in general it's just - it's just not right." I pause. "Does that make any sense?"

"Kind of, not really." He tells me with a smile.

I roll my eyes. "Why do you even want to know?"

He looks as if I'm stupid and I look to him as if he's crazy. "I'm a doctor, remember? Doctor abroad in Honduras for the last couple of years, remember?"

And then it hits me. He was a doctor. He was a doctor who had just spent time down with people in Honduras for so many years. He was a doctor, Finn had told me and Cato had and Marv had and Peeta himself had even showed me his old hospital ID card.

"Right," I mumble.

He smiles. "Well, I'm no back doctor, but I would go get that checked out."

"Really?" I ask. "Some aspirin and stretch or yoga or whatever new exercise Hollywood is doing won't help?"

"Sadly no," he tells me.

I let out a groan. "That sucks."

"Sorry." He tells me. "But you should. And if you have any other problems, it gets worse or need a recommendation for a doctor just call me and I'll help you out if you want my number, just in case."

"Thanks," I nod, "that'd be great."

…

"Aren't you off today?"

I nod my head, taking off my jacket and slipping on my apron.

"Then why are you here? I mean when you're off from work, you know you're not supposed to show up right?"

"Thom called me and asked if I could take his shift."

Gale looked to me with a questioning expression. "Can't the man work his own shift?"

"He's got a cold."

Gale shook his head, smiling. "He's got a girl over?"

I nod, pushing out of the back room and into the empty bar.

"And she hasn't left, yet," he ask as he follows me into the empty bar with three crates of assorted liquors in hand.

"Either he wants her around for a little bit longer or he hasn't been driven far enough to whoop out his set and kick her out."

Gale snorts, setting down the crates along the bar. "It's hard to get rid of a girl."

"Is that why you text me to come over and save your sorry ass," I ask as I unpack the crates, aligning the bottles along the bar.

"Hey, you signed up for that when you became my friend."

I roll my eyes. "Is it so hard to tell a girl you don't want to be in an actual relationship with her?"

Gale restacks the now empty creates. "Not all girls are like you, Catnip. Not all girls are okay with friendly hookups and not actually being in a serious relationship."

I shrug. "Are you even okay with it?"

"Me?" He ask carrying the crates around the bar and into the back room.

"Yeah," I call after him. "I mean most girls want an actual relationship, labels and all. And if most girls want that I'd think most guys would like that. Don't you want that?"

"Yeah," he says coming back in the room. "Yeah, I want that."

"Then why do you continue sleep around."

His face falls. "The girl I'd want to have all that with, a relationship and a future… that's not on her agenda."

"Oh," I say not really sure what to say.

"Maybe one day it'll happen though. Never give up, right?"

I nod.

…

Around to the back of the house something, someone ran into me, catching me off guard. Pushing me back three steps it takes me a moment to level out. And then when I think that I know what is going on, that I'm going to take one more step back I come to a halt. Again, taking a moment for me to level out I come face to face with Finn.

He gives me a wiry smile. "Hey."

"Hey," I say suspiciously.

"You're staying, right?" He asks in desperation as if he needed me to stay, as if I said no it would be the end of the world.

I raise my eyebrow. "That's why you invited me over right, to come and stay for dinner."

He nods as if he had forgotten. "Well, yeah, let's go."

And so then turning and pushing me forward we continue the way I had intended for my body to go. So further around to the back of the house, we popped out on the deck where two other people I hadn't expected sat.

The first person that came in view was Peeta. I wasn't surprised to see him, but I just didn't know that he would be here. When Finn texted me to come over for Chinese it was always just the two of us, there had never been anyone else; it didn't bother me though that Peeta was there. He was Peeta, I just couldn't explain it. He sat on the steps of the deck that either led you into the house or out to the pool. He was a strange doctor in my mind, always dressing so causally. Today it was a pair of swim trunks and a simple gray v-neck that he looked at peace in, more than Finn was, with a beer in his hand and his sunglasses resting on the brim of his nose.

I couldn't understand why Finn was so distressed, but…

Ten feet behind Peeta on the deck sat in one of the metal chairs around the matching table sat the problem, what was causing all the commotion.

Effie Trinket, Finn's publicist.

Effie was a great women, strange, but a great women. Under the pink high heels stood a mastermind. She did her job well and she never once maybe anyone, even myself doubt her. But, it was Finn who made her job difficult.

As we walked onto the deck, past Peeta I leaned into Finn. "What did you do?"

But it isn't Finn who answers, but Effie who looks up at me with a small smile.

"Katniss," she says, "It's good to see you."

"You too, Effie."

"Did you know Finn has a girlfriend?"

I look to Finn beside me surprised. "Really?"

He nods and I nod.

"Well," I say to Effie. "I'm going to get a drink. You fix whatever damage he caused and please try not to make him cry, he's an ugly crier."

Effie nods in approval and Finn lets out a sigh. And from behind us I hear Peeta let out a soft laugh. Then, in my turn, I excuse myself and escape into the house. Through the house I find myself in the kitchen. Over to the frig I scavenge for a beer when I hear a pair of footsteps behind me.

"Can you grab me one, too," I hear Peeta ask.

Without a response, I grab two bottles and close the door.

"Have you met Finn's girlfriend," I ask, handing him a bottle.

He nods. "She's a friend of mine. They met the day I came back to the States," he tells me. "I just found out last week that they started dating."

I nod surprised. Peeta had only been back near three weeks now and in the year I have known Finn and heard of him, not once had I ever figured him in a relationship.

"How long do you think they will be," I ask.

"A while." He says. "She has been here since I got here an hour ago and from what Finn has told me about her, how she makes sure every aspect of every situation is considered; I think she'll be here a few more hours."

I nod, taking a drink of my beer. "I was really hoping for some Chinese food, too."

Peeta smiles. "You want to go get some."

And I smile too, I wasn't staying.

…

"You have a tumor."

I look at the man in front of me, dressed in a white lab coat and with a stethoscope around his neck as if he is an alien speaking gibberish.

"Excuse me?"

"You have a tumor in your lower back."

Still shocked and kind of astonished I ask, "How?"

"Well-" He begins, but I don't let him finish.

"I don't smoke or work around radiation or drink Kool Aid. I run every day, I take a multi-vitamin, and I recycle. How is that possible?"

The doctor's face falls, turning sympathy. "It just happens, even to the healthiest of people."

"This tumor is-"

But I don't catch what the doctor says after that. This voice seems to fade out and a silence takes over. It was a numbing, buzzing silence that you hear in your ears after going to a concert or a club. If this was a movie, if it was all one big figment of my imagination it would be like the Peanut Gallery and the doctor's voice would take the role of the parents making that "wamp ap wamp" noise and I would stand there nodding my head like I knew exactly what he was saying. Instead I just sit there; I sit there in the more than uncomfortable leather chair in the doctor's two degrees too cold office letting the information just provided sink in.

I have a tumor. I have a tumor and it is-

The doctor's name whom I had already forgotten breaks through the silence saying, "You'll have to start chemo therapy," before once again fading out.

I have a tumor and it is active.

…

Note:

I am going to try to update this every week or two, estimating at least five thousand words long each time. I don't know how many chapter this will be, but I'm thinking of only having maybe around five, it's still not clear though.

Thanks for reading, I hope you like it.