Many thanks to my beta and friend, Burkygirl, for taking a look at this for me! This crossover is based on the storyline from Water for Elephants, the movie version, not the book. I started this in 2015 for an Everlark movie challenge I participated in. If you haven't seen the movie, it's a love story with plenty of drama, based around a traveling circus in the early 1900's. I hope you like it!
"Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved."
― William Jennings Bryan
I stare through a blurry pool of tears that have yet to release in a torrent on my cheeks at the picture of my love. My Katniss. Beautiful, and perfect, and gone. The amazingly attentive mother of my children. My children, who forget to visit me in the home they unknowingly imprisoned me in, forcing me to live out the rest of my days alone and on medication that makes me forget. I sometimes relish the absent-mindedness. Until memories of the past return, bringing with them a longing for the fulfilled life I once had, and the reality of the fractured life I lead now.
"Would you mind telling me about that day?" The voice of the young man in front of me, Finnick he said his name was, breaks my reverie, and I'm glad for it. He seems genuinely interested in talking to me. Not like the nurses in the home or the other residents who stare blankly down the halls and out their windows, yearning for a past they cannot retrieve.
I haven't spoken to anyone about what happened in 1931. It was the greatest of all circus disasters. Katniss and I kept it just between us, not wanting our children's lives tainted with the stories of deception, infidelity and murder that involved us. When she went, peacefully in her sleep, I was left to bear the anguish of separation from my one true love, along with the weight of our secret for the rest of my days. It's been so heavy on me this last year without her, so I say yes, wanting someone else to know the truth, what I made of my destiny, before my time in this life is over.
"Mr. Mellark?" I'm surprised to hear my name called in the middle of my assessment. Panem University is an Ivy League school, and I knew they wouldn't be interrupting my final exam unless it were absolutely necessary. My pulse quickened and my stomach lurched with anticipation of some kind of dreadful news. Did my Dutch background and my immigrant parents' ancestry somehow disqualify me for a degree in Veterinary Science? In my wildest dreams I couldn't have imagined what he had to tell me.
I stepped into the tiny office with the Dean of the prestigious school. His face was somber, and the words he uttered, filled with remorse, bitterly slammed a door to my future and, although I couldn't have known it then, set me on a course I could never regret.
I'm requested to attend the hospital's morgue to identify the dead body's of my parents and my two brothers, killed that afternoon in a car accident. The room reeked of antiseptic, a smell I will forever associate with the agony of loss, and the white linens that covered the four bodies were pulled away to reveal the only people I had ever called family. My parents moved to America alone, chasing freedom they never knew and could only dream about. I never knew my grandparents. Nor my aunts, uncles, cousins, or anyone I would have been able to turn to during a tragedy.
I hoped the fat droplets of tears snaking angry trails down my face was answer enough for the authorities because I could not speak. Completely silenced by shock, I ran out of the building, emptying the contents of my stomach onto the sidewalk. My father, my brothers, my mother, all dead.
The death of my mother was what most upset me, even though it shouldn't have. My father and brothers were all proud of me, all loved me. But Mother, I was a disappointment in her eyes. I constantly tried to please her, doing anything I could to gain her approval.
I rose early every morning to help around the house before school. I did loads of dishes and laundry, cleaned toilets and made beds. I studied every night to become valedictorian of my class and be the first of our family to make it into college. And not just any college. Ivy League college. I was one hour away from her acceptance. And she died before I could ever know what it was like to have a mother's love.
Anger quickly replaced sorrow at those thoughts, and I pulled at my hair, finally moving only because a nurse leaving work coaxed me inside, and gave me water to drink and cleaned my dirty face before sending me home in a cab.
The death of my family was not the end of the coarse and jagged road life chose for me. My father, I was surprised to learn, good man that he was, was not the best business man. I was under the impression that the Mellark bakery was in the black, and that my father owned our home. That was not the case. A week after their deaths, I sat across from Alma Coin, the haze of denial still not completely lifted. The banker was a heartless woman, possibly made that way by the economic depression of that era. In those times, it was all about surviving.
Though I can't completely blame her actions, her bedside manner was deplorable. She told me my father was a terrible business man. Her words struck fear and indignation in my heart. Fear that what had been left to me would not be mine, and indignation at her judgement. She didn't know him. All she knew was what was on paper. My father helped people. Maybe he did accept chickens and unusable goods from time to time as payment for famous Mellark breads and sweets, but he wasn't a bad man.
"I know my father owned our house outright," I said adamantly to her accusations.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Mellark, but you're wrong." She flipped through a stack of papers, eyeing the information with a stoic expression. "It's all here, dated four years ago."
Her lips were still moving, but my realization was blocked with the comprehension of her cold-toned words. Four years ago? I started college then. It dawned on me that my father must have mortgaged the house to pay for my schooling. Fate had taken my loved ones, but the bank was taking everything else.
It took two weeks for the papers to be filed and the vultures to sell off everything my parents had worked so hard for. I kept a few items to remember them by. My father's leather satchel, which held the few clothes I owned, those passed down to me by my eldest brother, Brandon. Ryan's favorite dirty magazines that he hid under his mattress, believing no one knew about them, were there along with my mother's wedding ring. It had been my paternal grandmother's and was a family heirloom. Though, now, I had no prospects of giving it to anyone.
Glimmer Rogers had been the one I planned to give it to. But the depression I found myself in wreaked havoc in my life and I never went back to take the test, which meant I had no career, and her father would have never blessed our union. It was probably for the best. I had been blinded by her beauty. Flowing, blonde hair, eyes the color of a clear, morning sky, and lips that tasted like strawberries and felt like satin. I went to her after learning of all my misfortunes, and she, the girl who had told me countless times she loved me, responded by telling me she couldn't be with me anymore. I only thought I had lost everything up until that point.
I found myself wandering, hungry and exhausted physically and emotionally. I absently followed train tracks out of town, searching for work in the direction of the Capitol. I would have taken work anywhere, though, so long as it was far from the life that was ripped away from me.
I had just bedded down for the night in a grove of trees, when the thundering of a locomotive engine caught my attention. I watched it, judging its speed. The old me would have thought it ludicrous to jump onto it. The new Peeta figured it would at least get me somewhere faster than the lazy, sulking strides I was taking so far.
I saw an opening and took my chance as the sixth train car approached me, the loss of so much leaving nothing to hold me back, no fear of death. My belly scraped the uneven wooden boards of the train car's floor and a smile, the first one since the day I lost my family, spread across my lips.
I was suddenly yanked from the car's opening, flailing wildly about in the dark, trying to see my attackers. A strong brute held my arms behind me as another man, dirty and reeking of illegal liquor, shoved a lantern into my face.
"We don't take stowaways, son," he said gruffly. I stared at him, unable to form a response as a small crowd of men gathered around him, all eyes boring into me.
"We ain't got enough food to feed anybody else," he cut through my silence.
"I don't need food. Just need a ride, that's all," I said calmly when I noticed one of the men held a large, curved knife.
"Well, Snow don't give free rides to nobody. And if you know what's best for you, you'll turn around and jump out that door right now, and never look back." I heard the warning in his words, but in spite of what I'd just been through, I didn't really care.
"Throw him off!" one of the men shouted, the rest roaring their approval of the idea.
"He's a bum!" came another shout. The man holding the lantern looked me up and down, taking in my disheveled but fashionable appearance, encouraging the larger man still clamping my arms behind my back to let me go.
"He's not a bum. No bum dresses like that." The man drew closer to me, the stench of moonshine growing harsher with each step.
"What's your name, son?"
"Peeta. Peeta Mellark," I managed with a weak voice, tagging a respectful "Sir" in the following silence.
"I'm Haymitch," he introduced himself, the glower giving way to concern. "What are you looking for, kid?" The question was straightforward.
"Work," I answered truthfully.
"You can sleep there tonight," he pointed to a bare spot at the side of the car. "I'll see if I can get you something in the morning. Until then, keep to yourself if you know what's best for you."
Morning came early, and I twisted my body several times in search of relief from the tightness in my back, having slept on the hard, uneven wood all night. It wasn't an ideal scenario, but there seemed to be something freeing, dangerous even, about riding the rails with a group of ruffians.
Before I had left the car I could hear the orders of men, the chatter of ladies and the clamoring of animals. What town could sound so lively? Eager to see where we were, I stepped into the morning sunshine. The meadow outside the train car's door was filled with every animal you could imagine. Lions, tigers, horses, giraffes, bears, exotic species from worlds away. Looking back to the train, my suspicion was confirmed when I read the script on the side of the car - "Cirque du Snow", it said in scrolling, yellow letters on a faded, red background. Another smile, the second since my tragic loss, crept over my tired features despite my sorrows. I had just come face to face with every child's dream.
"Son, is there any kind of life that you have to go back to?" Haymitch asked me as we stood in front of the frosted glass door of Snow's personal car. "Because if there is, you should forget all of this and go back to it right now." I shook my head. I had nothing and no one. Anything I could do to earn a bit of money and make myself useful might help me move on, feel worth something.
With a defeated sigh he nodded and rapped on the door with his dirty, scarred knuckles. "Now, when Thresh comes to the door, you're on your own. He'll take you to Snow. Whatever you do, don't talk too much about yourself," he explained. "And don't ramble on about stuff, trying to make yourself look smart. Just make your request as politely as you can, you hear me? Snow don't like show-offs and men who think highly of themselves." My head bobbed in understanding, but I wondered nervously just how intimidating the circus owner must be.
A bulky, towering, dark-skinned man escorted me into a lavishly decorated train car, the carpet so luxurious and thick that my normally heavy tread didn't make a sound. Haymitch had given me a small bowl of grits for breakfast, but the buffet spread across the side of the car, overcrowded with delicacies we hadn't even been able to make at my family's bakery, caused my stomach to growl intensely enough for all to hear.
"Who are you and what do you want?" A smooth voice ordered from the table. Not one of the five well-dressed men sitting down to a game of poker turned to look at me, so I wasn't sure which one had spoken.
"Work, sir. I need a job," I said, trying to sound confident but needy.
"What is your name?" A silver haired man turned to face me. His even voice matched the one I heard moments ago. His eyes were dark and beady and his tone belied a thinly veiled, sinister nature. A shiver darted up my spine, as if anxious to get out the man's presence.
"Peeta Mellark, Sir."
"Mr. Mellark. Do you think I don't know the goings-on of my own train?"
"Sir?" I asked, unsure of what he meant.
"You have slept and eaten aboard my city on wheels, yet you haven't worked or paid for any of it. I don't hire thieves, Mr. Mellark. Toss him to the lions, I don't have time for uneducated rabble-rousers," he ordered, turning back to his game. Large, calloused hands seized me and began dragging me backwards.
"I have a degree in veterinary sciences!" I shouted back, more angered more by the flippant comment that I was uneducated than the threat on my life. Snow turned to eye me suspiciously, sizing me up with his disapproving gaze.
"Do you now?" he asked. I shook free of the dark man, feeling the interest in Snow's question.
"Where from?"
"Panem University," I said, holding his penetrating gaze with my own. If I showed weakness now, he would never respect me.
"A trained veterinarian from Panem. I think we can find a place for you." Hope soared inside of me, and I fought to keep the glee from overcoming my features.
"With the animals?" I asked, hesitant but too curious to keep quiet about the nature of the job I wanted.
"Oh, I think we can find you a place with the animals." The smile that played on this lips was anything but sincere.
My back ached and I could feel the skin of my hands blistering beneath the splintered handle of the shovel I wielded. Turned out large animal feces was heavy. Snow set me to cleaning out the lion cages, and after that I was tasked to the giraffe's quarters. Working with animals was all I ever wanted to do. My mother never allowed me to have a dog, even though it was the only thing I had ever asked her for, and the reason I wanted to become a vet. I decided to stop asking the year she backhanded me with a wooden spatula, hot with the morning's bacon grease. It left an angry, swollen mark across my cheek. My pleading was too much and had become irritating to her, she'd said after her ire had faded and she felt sorry enough to speak to me again. She handled it the only way she handled anything - with rage.
I had felt that same fury inside me a few times, but I never allowed it close enough to the surface to act on it. I never wanted to become what my mother was. I never wanted to strike something innocent. I denied the urges to lose my temper and instead stuffed them deep down inside, and tried to cover the rage with the calm and patience my father always exhibited.
After finally completing the task of mucking the large animal stalls and stepping out into the fresh air, I looked across the short field into an open tent. There were four horses, all bright white like fresh, powdered snow gleaming in the noon sunshine. They were lined up in a perfect row. Each bowed to their instructor, a young, petite woman dressed in riding breeches and boots, with a sleeveless top tied at her navel. Her arms were strong but slender and they moved with grace, commanding her audience.
I drew closer to the opened flap of the tent, intrigued by the commanding presence of this tiny girl. Four large beasts seemed to hang on her every movement. She was gentle and kind with them, and I could tell right away that she loved them.
"Buttercup, what's wrong? What is it, my love?" She asked one of the horses in a voice that would be reserved for one's child or favorite pet. I looked to where her eyes were trained, the horse on the end. It was slow to stand from its curtsied position and stumbled a few times, favoring its right, front leg. The veterinarian in me strode over to help, but stopped short when the girl's heather-gray eyes pierced mine.
"What are you doing here?" she questioned me curtly. I could hear suspicion in her tone, but the beauty I found in her face rendered me speechless. The oval shape of her eyes, stormy in color but able to fill my soul with sunshine. Her dark hair, shiny and draped down to the middle of her back in a loose plait, wavy wisps escaping around her face and neck. Her lips and cheeks were flushed from the summer heat, bright pink against flawless, olive skin.
Words never evaded me. All my life I was able to charm and talk my way into and through anything I wanted. Well, with the exception of my mother. But this time was different. The heat of the summer was stifling in the tent. Beads of sweat trickled down my back, but I couldn't have cared less in that moment. As I was about to find the courage to speak, a voice behind me caught both of our attentions and our heads snapped to its direction.
"Dearest Katniss, this is our new man. A vet from Panem University, no less," Mr. Snow explained. I was too busy twirling her name around in my mind to hear him take the glory for my sudden appearance.
"I found him myself, and now he's going to save our precious Buttercup." He eyed me with a look that said he expected no less, and I got the feeling that if I couldn't deliver a healthy animal, I may regret my decision to join his little assemblage. "Isn't that right, Mr. Mellark?" The way his eyebrows rose on his forehead, and the way he enunciated my last name told me I had no choice but to agree. I hoped I could help the animal, but I couldn't say for sure until I examined it.
"Do you mind if I take a look?" I asked Katniss, leaving Mr. Snow's question unanswered until I could be honest in my reply, as I had no intentions of lying to this beautiful woman. Katniss nodded her head and stepped back to permit me space next to Buttercup. I allowed the majestic animal to sniff my hand and familiarize himself with my scent. I ran my hand along his smooth mane, patting him twice on the neck, calling him a 'good boy' in my most soothing voice, and then moved down his leg toward the hoof.
Grabbing the lower leg, I gently tugged upwards, letting the horse know to lift its leg so I could inspect the underside of the hoof. Buttercup acquiesced, and I could tell the animal was in a great deal of pain. My heart dropped into my stomach upon seeing the source of the animal's pain - a severe abscess. It must have been progressing for weeks.
"Can you do something?" Katniss' voice interrupted my dire thoughts, her tone much more childlike and imploring than before. I looked into her hopeful eyes, dreading the only thing I could say.
"I'm sorry," I said with reluctance.
"What do you mean? You can't fix it?" Katniss' words were biting and her face instantly took on a distrustful scowl. "Some ivy league vet you are. Come on, Buttercup," she beckoned the horse and exited the tent, the white steed following her like the most loyal of dogs.
I watched her go with a heavy heart, wanting to heal the animal but knowing there was nothing I could do. Maybe I could comfort her in some way. I would if I knew how. Mr. Snow, who I'd all but forgotten about, cleared his throat, gaining my attention.
"Mr. Mellark, are you telling me there is nothing you can do to fix the star horse to my star act?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, but the abscess is too far-"
"I'm beginning to think Panem University isn't quite the prestigious school I first thought it to be." I didn't have to time to be offended with his words, as the ones that followed were far more serious and threatening than the former. "If that horse does not become healthy quickly, Mr. Mellark, I won't sell tickets. Katniss and her horses are my headlining show. Without them there isn't a show. Without a show there is no money and without money, well, I'm sure you can figure it out from there. You will fix that horse or I will evict you from my train in the middle of the night." The calm with which he threatened me made me envision the horrible plight. The train at full speed, and my body would bounce along the jagged rocks until it came to its final resting place - bruised, broken, and bloodied. I was so taken back by his calloused warning that all I could do was nod at his final question, each word enunciated as if it were its own sentence. "Do. You. Understand?"
Mr. Snow exited the tent, leaving his voice and malevolent warning ringing in my ears as if I had been in a bell tower at noon. Haymitch's words from the night before suddenly broke through, louder and clearer, and with much more meaning than I'd originally heard.
"If you have any kind of life to go back to, kid, you should forget all of this and go there right now."
Comments are always appreciated! How about the banner? Gosh, loving-mellark is just fantastic. I have serious heart eyes for her. Pbg
