Cookies

6.23.2012

Summary: Peeta's father's POV on a few seemingly random moments of his life.

–

AN: I got the idea to do this because there are a few times I've read a few books or have had it thrown down my throat as an issue and I've wondered about the child/sibling falling in love with their sibling's spouse or parent's love's child. Complicated I know in such broad terms, but you'll get it and its quite simple. Do I love that person because my relation loved them or their parents? Except, this story isn't in Peeta's POV and its not about his struggle to accept whether or not his love is true or because he knows the truth about his father's love for Katniss's mother or even because he's like his father, he loves the same type of traits or things. This story came about because everyones writing Peeta obsessed fics where he watches every little thing she does and spies on her even when that's not really possible, especially without her knowing about it with her hyper sensitivity to sounds and movement and even if she didn't catch it, Gale would. Also, someone said something about how Gale and Katniss were always together, except they weren't always together. They didn't have classes together, being two years apart and they didn't eat together because the lunch breaks never converged at the same time. They didn't go into the woods together either, always meeting at their spot. Actually, there is a lot that was wrong with their possible relationship before hand though they were friends and spent time together, just not as much as people these days do or could.

–

Seventeen

I tap the girl's shoulder and she turns to look at me. Her silver eyes peering out at me under that blond fringe. She is one of the only people I know with blond hair. The rest have straight dark hair and dark eyes. Her looks are only part of the draw and I smile at her, handing over a basket of bread I managed to sneak from my parent's bakery. This would be my future too and thankfully I enjoyed it and was good at it.

She accepted the small package and gave me one of her serene smiles. For the first time in our life, we talk a little. I wish this day would never end but tomorrow was the reaping and I was just starting to realize that we were both in danger, though the names were only in there a minimum amount of times, they were compounding. I never realized the danger before and I wanted to capitulate on all the time I might have left with her.

Her mother called her away and I watched as this strange girl, one of the very few who were not from our district leave my side. She was a merchant's daughter yet she had another unique quality that I couldn't quite yet understand. There was something special about her.

The next day came quickly and I scanned the crowd of females for her and when I caught her eye, she smiled at me. I grinned back. A boy at my elbow, someone I had never spoken to, gave a startled grunt and I wondered if I accidentally hit him. I turn to apologize, but his eyes were beyond me, beyond the crowds and across the way. I follow his gaze and see what has captured his attention. The same thing that had captured mine.

I start to bristle. He can't have her, she's mine, or would be if I had more time with her. He only just noticed her now, when she smiled. I try to settle my nerves, if I, a boy and the same age as him hadn't noticed him before, she obviously wouldn't either. He was from the Seam, and we didn't have much to do with them. He didn't have a chance, she would prefer me.

She was already responding warmly to my efforts and I hoped it would continue that way. I look back across at her, but she's turned her back to us and she's talking with two girls, twins. I look out of the corner of my eye at the boy again, he might have been looking at one of them. But even cleaned up for the reaping, he couldn't quite remove the grime of the Seam from his skin. It gave his skin a darker quality and I was sure I even saw a few leaves in his hair. His hair darker than I had seen on anyone, even the others in the Seam. A fine dusting of coal on his hands.

No, the merchant's daughter would never pick him, he'd dirty all of her family's clothes and what could he offer her? Not much.

We only had these next two years and then we could live and breathe easily for the rest of our lives, start planning futures until we had children of our own. Until we were nineteen we had no chance of that. We could be ripped away from those plans at any moment. That's why we weren't allowed to work. None of us came back after that.

This year, to make matters worse, was the fiftieth quarter quell and this year's rules were outrageous. Two male and two female tributes were expected to play. Two each, making the grand total four from every single district. Fourth-eight people were going to go off and slaughter each other and only one would win.

Whoever it was and they came back would be a victor twice over but also that much more messed up. I can't even remember the last one that won from our district. Were any of them still alive? No, I recall now, that one died in a confrontation with a miner a few years back, the instinct to live was snuffed out with enough booze and morphling and the disgrace for living when everyone else was dead and unable to save any that followed. I think that would be the worst of it, the watching others go through what you had, and being unable to do anything about it, being so helpless.

The girls were called first. I watched as first a twelve year old was announced and then a seventeen year old. My heart squeezed as there was a commotion near the front, where she was. It hadn't been her named called, but one of the twins. The other one was bawling and clinging onto her sister with all of her strength. She was hugging the other girl and refusing to let go and for a minute, one heart-stopping moment, I thought she'd volunteer to take the other girl's place. It was her friend and it was like her to step in and try to keep a family together.

But then she let go and I could see in her eyes that she was distancing herself from who she used to be just moments ago. She firmed her resolve and held back, even as the twin was ripped away from her. It was the first time I saw her say goodbye to someone. It wouldn't be the last or the most painful to watch. But it was the first and it was up there in the worst five.

Then the male names were called and I was once again spared from the reaping. There wasn't anyone I knew this year either, and only periphery with her friend, hardly knowing her. So even that twin girl didn't count. I was vaguely aware of one of the males on stage taking the twin's hand and holding it tight. Perhaps those two knew each other. Then he let her go and they went their separate ways, into the justice building and I didn't see any of them again until later that night on the television and only through that medium for the rest of the next three weeks.

The only time I saw anyone live again was when Haymitch, the boy who knew the girl, returned to our district. He was given a fairly warm welcome home for district twelve standards but it was also with a sense of unease. He had won, but he was also treated with a fair amount of distance, afraid of his mental quality. He only spoke out once, and that was in honor of Maysilee, the girl who he had tried to comfort at first and who he had allied with until she called it off.

Maysilee, how she had caused me so many problems without ever once speaking together. Once she was taken to the games, I never got to speak again to the merchant's daughter. Then when the girl had died, I saw her talking with the boy from the Seam, the unwashed, dirtier than ever boy. He was giving her something, but I never knew what it was, but it brought her comfort. Then after Haymitch returned and brought with him Maysilee's body, the merchant girl stood with the remaining twin and her family at the funeral. There were two others, but nobody recalled in our small circles.

Afterwards the family gave the girl Maysilee's mockingjay. The song bird had annoyed me at first, but I eventually got used to it and tried talking to her again. It was with a warmer reception than I had realized and wished I had pushed my luck earlier. We became friends but so too had she become friends with the boy from the Seam.

Then one day, I saw her sitting there, feeding that bird and he walked by, singing a song and the bird for the first time I had ever seen, was quiet and was not sleeping. I had never seen these songbirds quiet for anyone. I heard it could be done, and when she told him to come closer and he stopped to chat, the bird remained quiet, waiting for more. When he sang again at her insistence, repeating a few lines over and over again, the bird picked it up and joined in. It was quite lovely, or would have been if I liked that sort of thing.

Perhaps if it had been her that sang such sweet music, but no, it hadn't been. It had been him singing and it had been the bird responding to him. It wasn't only the bird. She responded to him as well. There was a warmth to her voice I hadn't heard before as she talked about nothing major, also a first and I walked away. Walked away from the conversation and walked away from her. I knew it, even if nobody else had, she had made her choice.