July 7th, 2014 | 2pm | Katniss
Each thump makes my blood boil. The more times my back hits the mat, the angrier I get.
My feelings aren't directed at Annie, my current sparring partner, who predictably isn't even giving me her best. She still manages to take me down time after time.
It isn't because of the angry marks I feel creeping up my back, either. I have a salve at home that will fix them right up. It's in a cabinet I've opened 2 times, at most.
I'm angry at myself. Delicate Annie Cresta does not have the moves to pin me to the floor. I do not need medicine. Ever.
I used to be angry at my handler for not giving me a mission in the last 3 months. But, as I struggle against Annie's headlock, I get it. I'm not who I once was.
Who was I? I was one of B.I.R.D.'s most used human agents, spies, assassins, weapons, whatever sounds less deadly. There aren't many of us, never have been, but a few months ago, after an espionage and law-enforcement agency much like ours went down, measures were taken and now many of their agents work for us. I've been here for much longer than that.
It's impossible to have more than a few people working such a crucial job when you have this important thing called trust in mind. Once upon a time, I had a hard time earning that, but that is not the reason I haven't been given a mission.
My reflexes are slower, I've lost weight, I get distracted a lot and suffer from insomnia. Things like that don't go unnoticed around here, not with so many people counting on you. Even now I regret the decision to show my face and poor skills in this gym. Half the agents present are keeping an obvious eye on us, following every wrong move I make. If that is how cautious they usually are during surveillance, they're not much better than me.
Maybe they are losing trust in me. Not the kind of trust they gave me years ago, when they were finally sure I wouldn't steal an important gadget and sell it on eBay. Can I be trusted to get the job done anymore though?
Most of the missions on my file are completed. They always go quick, without much thinking done on either part. I don't particularly like to waste my time and it's hard for the victim to get in deep thought with an arrow pointed at their eye.
My skills with a bow are the only thing I had when I was brought here. I'm scared to find out if they're gone too, just like my hand-to-hand combat abilities.
I'm lying on the floor, given up and speculating how bad of an idea going to the range with a bruised shoulder would be, when I hear loud footsteps. I jump up, throwing Annie off in the process. If it's Haymitch, I'm literally done here.
My reflexes have chosen to wake up in the wrong moment, because it's not my handler. Just another agent… as harmless as an agent can be, anyway.
"Alright Annie, I think you've kicked enough ass for today," he says, smile evident in his voice, while I've chosen to stare at the ceiling. At least my face would be flushed just from the fight if it was Haymitch. Being unemployed would be less embarrassing.
"Is that my prize?" Annie asks with a matching grin, nodding to the bouquet of flowers I manage to get a quick glimpse of.
After a second of hesitance, he gently takes one primrose out and pushes it between her ear and her long dark locks. I look away again, upset. She would never understand the meaning of that flower. Nobody can except he.
"Thanks, I really needed the nice aroma in case I run in to Finnick on the way to the showers," Annie tells him with a laugh. "He'd be so happy to see you. I am, too." And with that, topped with a wiggle of her eyebrows in my direction I don't even begin to interpret, she's gone.
I lie back against the mat, covering my face with my hands, wanting to disappear or for him to disappear, which is ironic because I've been anticipating his return for longer than I'd like to admit.
Shortly, the smell of spring surrounds me until it gets so close to my nose, I have no choice but to follow the instinct and breathe in deeply. I hear his familiar chuckle right above me. He's the one on top, yet I have the advantage. Without my eyesight, he'd never expect I'd go for it, so before he has the chance to open his stupid mouth and tease me, I flip him over.
The bouquet comes out surprisingly unharmed between our bodies. He's still holding onto it tightly. Maybe he did expect this a little bit. We have known each other for a while.
"You got me flowers?" I ask breathily. His answer is a hesitant nod. He's afraid I've changed. I have, but not when it comes to him, even if my actions so far have proved otherwise. I should be the one worried, it's him that was sent abroad for months.
"Flowers die." I'm not fond of them, even though they're a big part of my family. Plants aren't meant to be used like this. Then again, how could he know what to get me or that he didn't have to get me anything at all? The last time we went this long without seeing each other was when I was under interrogation and we weren't really the type of friends that give each other gifts back then. I didn't even know we are now.
"Well, I didn't." His words snap me back to reality. More like my reality in the past months, one of the reasons I haven't been getting enough sleep. During the day I ignore dark thoughs concerning his condition, but when the sun goes down, they creep in anyway. Now it's daylight and he's awakens me. He's here. His steady heartbeat under my palm is another much welcome proof of that.
"Peeta," I breathe out, looking down at the flowers. My frown disappears at the sight, but I bite my lip before my smile can register. "I didn't die either, you know."
"Yeah, seeing your excuse of a low kick earlier, I don't know how you managed that," Peeta says, not following my train of thought. He's grinning up at me as if he stops I'd disappear. I take the flowers from him and bring them close to his face, much like he did while I was hoping he'd leave.
"You only bring an even number of flowers to a funeral." His groan tells me he didn't think about the flower etiquette I've taught him when he did the gentlemanly thing by giving one to Annie. His manners and charm are his best weapons, but can sometimes also turn out to be a weakness. He has trouble eliminating targets he's gotten close to, even if they're bad people. That's my job. Peeta's the only good person in the situation.
"Sorry, sorry," he apologizes repeatedly, but I brush everything off with a laugh. I don't care about these flowers. I care that he thought of them in the first place and, most of all, that he's here."Now I officially messed it all up. I went to you apartment first thing, but you weren't there, so I had to call Finnick," he mutters, eyes on the ceiling.
"Why didn't you just call me? I didn't even know you were coming back today."Or this year.
"I knew and I've known for a while," he admits, squirming under me nervously. "I just… I wanted to surprise you. Ihaven't even gone to debriefing yet."
"You haven't talked to Haymitch?" I jump off of him, standing up. My muscles protest at the sudden movement. Too baffled by Peeta's actions to care, I hide my flinch by crossing my arms. "Why wouldn't you go to him first?"
"Because, Katniss, in case you haven't noticed, I've been gone for a really long time…" A really, really long time. "… and I don't want the first face from here I see to be that old man's." Peeta's way of telling me he's missed me. He knows I won't respond to the actual words.
"Look, I'm in enough trouble already and if they find out you've talked with me before…"
"Wait, wait, hold on," Peeta stops me from rambling any further, as he stands up and places his free hand on my shoulder. I lean into his touch. Yep, definitely going to need that salve. "Did something happen while I was gone?"
"I didn't mess up during a mission or anything… but then again, I haven't had the chance to," I say quietly with a shrug, fingers nervously playing with my braid, which is falling apart. This conversation needs to be over. We shouldn't be talking to each other and the last thing I want is for him to worry over me. So not the time for role reversals.
Peeta looks at me in disbelief, "You've been benched?"
"Not officially, but Haymitch wants to talk with me tomorrow. You and I both know there's only two ways that's going to go down – either I finally get given some job or I get cut."
When I got harshly woken up by my phone ringing, I almost fell off the bed. My first thought was that something bad had happened to Peeta. I had imagined a thousand different scenarios, from having to identify his body to choosing the agent to substitute him, before Haymitch had put a stop to them with an order for me to show up tomorrow. It was as I was waiting for Annie, who I had called immediately, to show up with coffee, that I realized the bastard more than likely had gotten up early himself just to piss me off more.
Peeta squeezes my shoulder, making me hide yet another flinch. "There's no way you're getting fired. Not you, of all people. You've given them absolutely no reason. They barely blinked when Finnick let that bomber get away last year."
"Yeah, well, Finnick has been paying for that mishap since then. Meanwhile, I've been getting my ass handed to me by his girlfriend!" Though my voice has been getting louder with every word I utter, I make sure girlfriend is barely audible. We can't even joke about things like that. Though we both know our closest colleagues have crossed the "friends" line, in B.I.R.D. you're not supposed to have a more complex relationship than that.
Peeta's head is down for a moment as he thinks. He's already taken my problems as his. That's exactly what I didn't want to happen. I would've preferred going through this alone than dragging him along for what will surely be hell.
"You should come with me now," he says finally. "Haymitch's always on his best behavior when I'm present. At least you think so." Haymitch is always a pain in the ass, but it's easier to handle with Peeta there, yes. Though, that might have to do less with their relationship, and more with mine and Peeta's.
"We'd be risking too many things. He'd know we talked beforehand and you've had the chance to tell me something about your mission I have no right to know. I don't think it was very proper of me to mention my own problems, either. Besides, my appointment is tomorrow. I can't just show up when I want to…I'm not even sure that I do."
Peeta sighs, but his shoulders remain tensed, as he looks down again, nodding his head. Something tells me he isn't looking forward to seeing Haymitch. What exactly went down on his mission? I was too giddy over his physical health to think of how he might be mentally.
"I need to shower away the shame." And the pain, though I doubt hot water will be efficient enough for my bruised body. "But you should come over later. I'll cook you a "welcome home" dinner."
"Do you want me to die?" My cooking, unlike my resent failed attempts at fighting, has never been very good, but I do know how to fix up a few things. He's exaggerating.
"Oh, I have missed your wit." Even though there's nothing funny about death. Who would know better than us?
May 2nd, 2006 | 12pm | Peeta
"Do you see her?" The same question in the same annoyed voice comes from my earpiece for the third time in the past five minutes. I know with such detail because I've been looking at the small arrow making its way around the clock since the moment the smell of fresh pastries became too hard of a reminder. The sudden flashbacks of my childhood are the reason for my impatience. Glimmer's is probably due to the wind her hair has to be put through on the roof she's positioned on.
"Trust me, you'll know when I see her," my lips move beneath the hand that's stealthily covering my mouth. I try my best not to give away my own incredulity. There's already something that doesn't feel right about this mission. It sounded too easy – wait for the thief, grab them and bring them to us, Haymitch told us. Glimmer and I have both prospered in much more complicated situations. An easy task like this is usually given to either an experienced agent that works alone or a group of rookies. We are neither of these things.
"Alright, I think it's time you two switch places." I jump at the sound of my handler's voice in my ear. The cashier behind the counter by the table I'm seated on raises an eyebrow at me and I try to play it off, straightening and focusing my stare on the book in front of me. Very stealthy, Peeta.
"What? Why?" Glimmer asks, saving me from looking like I'm talking to myself and freaking out even more people around me. She may be stuck in the cold outside, but we both know who gets the looser job between a sniper and an observer.
"This is taking longer than we thought. People are going to notice something is off with Peeta if you don't move."
"We have specific jobs. He gets the little thief and I'm here in case it goes awry," Glimmer says. She's past impatience now. Haymitch's idea doesn't sound very appealing to me, either. I'm great on the field, but only when it comes to interacting with people, not harming them. I always cave under pressure and I'm feeling stressed enough even in this atmosphere. This thief better not cause any trouble, so that there is no use of me because right now I'm not feeling very confident in my ability to complete the mission.
"No, you are both there with one goal – that girl. I don't care how you achieve it, as long as you don't leave a mess for me to clean up and that's what's going to happen if you don't follow my orders."
I stifle a sigh, ready to get up from my seat, but Haymitch's voice stops me. "Glimmer, come down before Peeta moves so that we don't accidentally miss the target entering the building. Peeta, wait 20 seconds after Glimmer is inside before you exit."
I busy myself with finishing the piece of cake I ordered. It makes my stomach turn even more. Less than 5 minutes later, the doorbell rings, announcing Glimmer's entrance. Our gazes stray from one another's, mine focusing on the clock again. After 20 ticks, I stand up and leave.
Using the fire escape of the opposite building, I climb to the rooftop. The sight of the sniper rifle makes me gulp. I know how to use one, but I've never had to. Hoping that will still be true at the end of this mission, I make my way to the weapon and look through the telescopic sight. The magnified vision of the bakery, of Glimmer making small talk with the cashier, of all these innocent clients that could get hurt in the aftermath of my actions, makes me take a step back for a second.
"Peeta?" asks Haymitch. He has no view of me at the moment, but it's like he has learned to know my movements just from my breathing.
I quickly grab hold of the rifle again. "I'm in position," I say.
"Good," Haymitch responds, sounding prouder than usual. Of course the more troubled I am, the more amused he is. At least that's how I interpret his reaction.
The next few minutes are spent alternating between spying the sides of the bakery and taking a quick look inside to make sure everything with Glimmer is alright.
"Hey, maybe our little thief is having an off day."
My focus on Glimmer's words, I take a step back to think them through. And that's when I see her. Concentrating too much on the details, I had missed the big thing. She has been making her way down the street for awhile now, while I had been busy searching for her at the front of the bakery. For some reason I had imagined her jumping from the roof or appearing from some dark corner, but it seems she does her business the "blend in" way.
To me, she still stands out and not just because my very job depends on recognizing her. I know how to read people both by physical and mental attributes. Her walk and her posture, which are the only two things that can help me judge her from here, tell me she's tired in more ways than one. She's trying to force self-confidence, but every second step she falters. Her eyes stray in too many directions. Nervousness. I can relate to her in that aspect.
"Glimmer, she's coming your way," I finally manage to say. "You have ten seconds."
Through the telescopic sight, I watch as Glimmer stands up from her seat abruptly, not caring about the many witnesses. With the same manner, she tells me loudly, "Be ready.".
I place my finger on the trigger, more focused than a moment ago. Haymitch can't possibly be happy with the show my partner just put on, so if I blow the mission too, we will be stuck at level two for the rest of our careers, if we keep them.
Glimmer has about two steps to take before she is right in Katniss' face. The thief knows she has nowhere to run to, but she still takes an abrupt step back.
With a sigh, Glimmer takes out her badge. "Protocol," she says simply. With the magnified vision, I see Katniss' eyes widen in fear as she examines the object. B.I.R.D. is new to her. She's been chased by the police many times, caught, released, caught again, ran away, so by now she must have expected the FBI, maybe CIA. But they don't deal with individuals like her. No, the honor comes to us.
I look lower for any hidden weapons, but all I find are trembling hands and unsteady feet. It's hard to fit that image with the one described to me - an uncompromising, heartless, unwilling to stop no matter what, woman. The innocence and fear she irradiates could very well be just her cover, but she doesn't look like a bad guy to me, not like the ones I've seen - brutal criminals, getting their death verdicts with sneers on their faces. This girl can't be a minute older than me and it's doubtful she's hurt more people doing minor stealing than I have doing my honorable job. Why is she involved in this? Why when she knows the eventual consequences?
"You're going to wipe that expression off your face now and walk with me to the black jeep at the end of the street," Glimmer demands coldly, linking her arm with Katniss'. To an outsider, they look like friends.
I sigh involuntarily, running a hand through my hair. My job is done. Another day that my reccuring nightmare doesn't become reality. I'm just about to begin collecting the rifle to go and meet up with them at the jeep, when a quick movement grabs my attention. I don't need telescopic sight to figure out what's happening. Through Glimmer's jacket, Katniss has felt the small knife my partner always carries in her pocket. The thief has it firmly in her fistfor the second it takes me to yell out "Glimmer!" before she buries it deep in the hand of her abductor.
The first thing I'm alert to except for Glimmer's blood running down the footwalk and Katniss running away, faster than I've seen anyone run, are people exiting from the bakery and other nearby buildings. If my scream didn't alert them, Glimmer's surely did.
"Peeta," Glimmer's raspy voice comes from my earpiece. "Shoot her. I can still see her."
I wait for Haymitch's instructions, anything. But my decision is inevitable.
"Damn it, put her down." That's all that the bullet does - puts the victim to sleep until it wears off after 2 to 3 hours or until we awaken them after they're transported to the right place. That's the only thought that helps me load the rifle. While I search for Katniss, I come across many confused innocents that make me hesitate once more. The cashier from the bakery, wrapping a towel around Glimmer's hand. A small boy, being picked up by his mother, as, who I assume to be her husband, runs to help. An elderly woman with two kids by her side calling for an ambulance. I get more lost and lost in their faces. Am I looking for Katniss at all?
"I can't…," I've barely uttereted, before two identical black jeeps run down the street. B.I.R. first parks in front of the bakery and a woman comes out, going to Glimmer. The second continues down the road. To finish my job. Nevertheless, Katniss Everdeen's name on my file will be followed by Mission failed.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I've been working on this since February so I have quite a lot written. Of course, the more your feedback inspires me, the faster I'll update. Every chapter will be divided as this one - the first part will be the current events and the second will be a flashback telling the story of how Katniss and Peeta became so close. I might post teasers and other things on tumblr, so if you want to see that or have a question, you can find me as seaquell.