AUTHOR'S NOTES: I started writing fanfic during the prime of X-Files. Mulder and Scully has since passed down the torch to Katniss & Peeta for me. This would be the first fanfic I am actually publishing. Please stick around; for this is a work in progress. I am always open to questions, comments, so if you have the time, don't forget to drop a review! :3
DISCLAIMER: THESE BRILLIANT CRAZY CHARACTERS ARE NOT MINE TO HOLD. THEY'RE SUZY'S.
"RYSNSHYN"
The license plate reads on a red hover car parked on a driveway of a white brick house, followed by heavy taps of designer shoes, crisp against the concrete. He lets himself in through the door without knocking, knowing his presence was anticipated. Housemaids donned in simple navy blue uniform nod in acknowledgement as he walks by, and then he finally settles in a dining chair. He dismisses them with a nod.
His father appears from an open arched door, wiping his hand on his apron.
"Dad, I hired all sorts of chefs for you," he frowns, glancing at a chubby man in a chef outfit standing dubiously with a pot of boiling water.
"Peeta," he says, delighted at the sight of his son. "I was just preparing dough-," Peeta has stood back up and cuts him off by engulfing him in an embrace, some of the flour on his apron leaving a mark on his dress shirt.
A change has molded Peeta while residing in Capitol. He wears expensive cologne and suits on a daily basis, gifts from his sponsors and endorsers, supporters and fans. His hair is longer, the black tips slightly graze the corners of his strong jaws, brushed back and always slick, never a strand out of place. He sports an immaculate black suit with silver trim all over, cuff links made of diamonds.
His father shoos him away into the living room and a housemaid brings him a tall orange juice as soon as he plops down into the couch.
"Son, I have great news. Chefs Elite want you to be their guest judge for a baking feature. They have contacted me, and they're excited to have you on their show!" he is ecstatic.
Peeta smiles initially, then his lips quickly straighten out to a line.
"When is this?"
"Next month," he gushes, untying the strings of the apron, "These opportunities are wonderful!"
Peeta's eyes are fixed on a spot on the carpet. "I have meetings with Mackie most of next month. He's showing me potential locations for the second bakery installment in south Capitol,"
"But this is great exposure on television,"
"Dad I'm *always* on television. In fact, I'm everywhere," he snaps back, surprised at his own agitation.
Ever since he and Katniss Everdeen were announced victors at the 74th Hunger Games, they were the entire craze in Capitol, glorifying the boy with the bread with the girl on fire. Everybody was head over heels over anything Peeta created, and both gained so much popularity that President Snow himself invited them to live in the Capitol, much to the citizen's delight. The Mellarks jumped on this chance, a golden opportunity to prosper their business. They encouraged Peeta to take advantage of his celebrity status, helping him with production and supply of bread, cakes and pies, pushing him to capitalize on the market of celebrity desserts, which was at that time, untapped.
He stars in commercials, his face on print ads promoting sportswear or sports equipment, on billboards in the over-glamorous and over-superficial city center.
His popularity spread like wildfire, while Katniss abruptly upped and disappeared.
Rumors had it that she either ran barreling back to District 12 because the spotlight was too much for her to handle, or because she decided to choose Gale in the end, depending on who you ask in the Capitol.
They became fodder for tabloids. Everybody's favorite gossip. The media adored them. Until Katniss' disappearance dissipated as merely a background story and Peeta continued to shine on center stage. It has earned him much sympathy, and has effortlessly made him more loved.
He walks through the doors of his bakery, greeted by customers with smiles and kind words upon seeing him. A tall, lanky middle-aged man approaches him with a fat folder tucked in his arms, his orange highlights as bright as the icing on the latest cupcake craze.
"Yes, we call these little heavenly cupcakes 'Sweet Sunset'", Mackie, his business coach, exclaims, running high on sugar, pointing at the cupcake rack.
Peeta's face saddens a little, then shakes his head at a memory buried long ago, quickly replacing it with a half smile.
"Here is the monthly report. You will be very pleased with the numbers. Highest profit since you opened the business. You're doing swell, young man." Mackie pushes the envelope into Peeta's hands, pats his back and leaves.
"Can you also send me a hologram version?" Peeta calls out over his shoulder. Mackie points his finger upwards and twirls it, his gesture for "ok".
More customers are noticing him now, congregating by the cakes section, as his phone beeps.
A love-struck text from Tinsel flashes on the screen of his phone, fat animated hearts beating against pink background. He ignores it, turns on his heels and heads for the doors, waving goodbye to people.
He has never felt so alone in his life.
There is a cool tinge in the air. It's bleak in District 12, even in the summer.
More than halfway across the land, Prim combs Katniss' wavy brown hair down her back. She sections them into three parts, and crisscrosses them into a braid. Their mother is folding clothes and piling them neatly in a wicker basket, shooting glances at her daughters across the living room, seated by the windows. She looks exasperated, eyebrows wrinkled in anger.
Katniss glances back at her mother and huffs in irritation as she notes her displeased face. She finds it ridiculous, the thought of her and her mother sizing each other up. The second hand of the wall clock ticks on.
"I have to do it. I need to fetch it, mom. No one else would. And there is no other alternative," Katniss revs the engine, breaking the humming silence.
"You can't travel under your condition, especially back to Capitol. That place is mad! And look at you," her mother waves her hand up and down at her, "You're risking—"
"You want to talk about taking risks and putting my life on the line? Don't you think I'm well acquainted with danger already?" Katniss could feel Prim shrinking behind her.
"Yes, and that is why you're staying away from it from now on," her mother pauses, clutching at the white blanket sprawled on the counter. "Send Gale," she suggests calmly, neutralizing her growing anger.
Katniss lets out a noise, half from her nose and half from the back of her throat. "That is not going to happen. Let's keep Gale out of this."
"Even if you were successful in acquiring it, what makes you think there are no consequences from taking it?"
"If I don't take it, I lose everything."
Her mother throws her hand in the air, picks up the wicker basket, and marches up the stairs, straight-faced.
Prim finishes the braid with a red elastic band, steps in front of Katniss and smiles at the approval of her work. Katniss thanks her, reaches out and pinches her cheek. She has grown so much, her little sister. She's taller now, and slim, her hair turning dirtier blonde as she ages.
She is beaming at Katniss, anticipation and excitement in her eyes.
"So?," she starts questioningly. "Max?"
Katniss looks at her, tilting her head to the side as if she's clueless. Then her pursed lips relax, slowly creeping into a big smile.
"Vera? How about Chryssa, short for Chrysanthemum? I have always liked that flower," Prim continues.
Katniss shrugs her shoulder, a sudden wave of fatigue slamming into her body. She checks the time on the clock. It's 3 pm. She yearns for another nap.
Prim slides to her side, offering her shoulder for support as Katniss slowly emerges from her seat, murmuring her thanks, confused, whether or not to be overjoyed, or miserable, a quick smile flashing across her face at a distant thought, just before her face contorts in hurt. She lifts her chin as she looks forward, then tries to locate her feet below, her hormones bouncing wildly at her, emotionally tearing her apart, as she places her free hand gently on her big, swollen belly.
Gale storms through the front door, unannounced. Katniss and Prim jerk back, startled, feet poised above the first step of the stairs.
"Your mom called me earlier this morning. She was frantic. Where do you think you're going?" he asks, catching his breath gracelessly.
"To my bedroom, thank you," answers Katniss with a blank look on her face.
"I will go. Just stay here and take care of yourself," Gale says, feet moving slowly forward, as if walking amongst the mines. "This is no time to be stubborn."
"I'll be fine Gale. I can take care of myself. It'd be easier for me because my mother knows the individual I will be seeking help from."
"Katniss, think of all the problems you will stir if you were spotted, if you do go." Gale says.
"I'll have a bigger problem if I don't go. Why does everyone make this to be a death trap mission? I just need something very important. I won't be long, ok Gale?" she said reassuringly, in a tone that indicates the conversation is over.
