AN - Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games series, the Tudors, or M.A.S.H.
Chapter 2
16 years later
The flames in the grand fireplace made of light marble with the elaborate gold decorations are dancing a slow and fluid dance. It illuminates the room in a warm glow, aiding the scarce light from the desk lamp shaped as an ancient vase with small porcelain animals carved into the surface. An old-fashioned map of Panem is spread out and covers the entire surface of the huge desk. The map shows every detail of Panem, from the districts, to the woodlands between the districts, the grand mountains and to the smallest lakes. The map had been marked into small squares and almost every single one of them had been crossed over with a red X.
This map had been his best friend, his foe and his hope for the past 16 years. Since the search had been initiated he had insisted upon doing this by hand and not entrust the vital information to be saved in their databases, since all kind of technology could be hacked. And for the sake of peace in Panem, this was the last thing he needed the people to know of. The speculations about the details of his wife's untimely death had been bad enough, but he stood firm that it was due to a fatal "accident".
To prove that nothing was amiss, he had declared that the country should continue to believe that his son was safe and well taken care of. Every year on the heir's birthday, as it was custom, the people of Panem would gather, Capitol and districts alike, to sing his praises. But apart from that, he kept everyone in the dark – only his closest advisors, his highest-ranking military generals and a few other vital persons knew the truth. The rest of the presidential household had been told that the heir had been brought to a safe house until he was old enough to return to the presidential palace. But he knows he cannot keep the secret for long. As tradition dictates, the heir to the presidential seat is to be presented to the people on his or hers 18th birthday, when the person comes of age. That gives him only two more years to find and bring his son home.
He had always considered himself to be a reasonable man, but in that unfaithful night he had vowed that when he found the persons behind this scheme, he would make sure to inflict upon them the worst kind of torture that had ever been invented. Any pleasure those rebels got from this wretched plan of theirs, would be nothing – nothing - in comparison to the pain they and their families are going to feel at the hand of his torturers.
There is a soft knock on the door. He had heard that type of knock a hundred times before and he knows what it means. As he bids the person to enter his private study, he reaches for the red pen to cross out the last two squares.
The man walks up and stands before his desk, papers in hand and a sorrowful and what is likely to be a slightly worried look on his face. "I am very sorry, President Snow. There is no news. Sector 575 and 576 were dead ends as well."
His commanding officer, minister Antonius had a right to have taken such a sorrowful feature. After crossing out sector 575 and 576, Snow looks at him while raising himself to his full height. "I refuse to believe that. You haven't been looking hard enough. If my son was killed or taken prisoner, the rebels would have announced it to all of Panem in a heartbeat. No, he's still out there. Somewhere."
"Your Excellency, we have rallied up every known and believed rebel in all of Panem and… pressurized them for information. The woodlands between the districts have been searched again and again down to the last slightest detail. Even the wastelands of District 13 have been scoured." the minister tries to explain.
"And the districts? What about them? What is our progress in the search there?" the president enquires.
The minister fiddles with his papers in search for the enquired details. He pulls out a paper from the stack and quickly scans it. "Sir, our reports say that we already have checked every community home this year - as we have done every year. No baby matched your son's DNA 16 years ago, and to this day, no boy who could resemble your son is a match."
The president gives a tiny nod in acknowledgement of the information. He crosses the room and finds himself in front of the fireplace. For a minute or two he just watches the flames flick and burn, then he states, "They might have changed his hair and eye colour. Have you thought of that?"
"We have, Your Excellency. And that is why this time we have checked every single boy of 16 years of age in the community homes in each of the 12 districts. No results there either, I'm afraid. Mr. President, if I may? I think it's time to stop wandering around in the dark. It's time for the most throughout search Panem has ever seen…"
The minister halters a bit before finding the courage to continue. Very slowly he begins to speak, almost fighting himself to utter the words, "I feel ashamed to tell you, that there is one crucial detail we may have overlooked. It might be possible that your son could be living with a district family – that he has been given a fake identity."
"But if that was the case wouldn't we known it by now? The blood samples from every citizen have been registered in the justice buildings. Surely, my son would have been discovered if he had been among them." the president states as a matter of fact, immediately dismissing the idea.
Again the minister shifts nervously on his feet, the conversation clearly getting to the point of which he had feared. "True sir… but not if your son's DNA was entered in the database twice under different names. The system is set to recognize the citizens by name first, not DNA."
President Snow whirls around at an astoundingly speed considering his age. The anger in his eyes mirrors the burning flames from the fireplace as he spits at the officer maliciously while trying to control his rage. "I beg your pardon? You have just discovered this now? How misfortunate I am to have so many ill-conditioned advisors. This is outrageous! You do realise, that if this is true, and my son is thought to be a citizen of one of the districts, then he would have been eligible for the Games for four years!"
As the president manages to quell his rage for a moment, the minister mutters an apology, "Yes, that is extremely unfortunate…"
Immediately, minister Antonius is cut off, "Unfortunate? That word will not even cover your fate if it turns out that my son – the only heir to Panem - have been reaped and killed in the Games."
The minister visible shudders and begins stuttering his apologies. It is a pitiful sight. "Sir… I'm so sorry. I… Your Excellency must forgive me…"
"Yes, yes, I know, I must forgive you. I must always forgive you, but I grow tired of forgiving you! I have given you everything, raised you to one of the highest levels in our society, and what do I get in return? Don't you know that I can drag you down as quickly as I raised you?" Snow sneers at him.
The president turns to face the flames once more as he takes a deep breath trying to quench his rage once again. Only the aftermath of his rage is filling up the splendid room, as the minister, normally such a prominent figure in the Capitol's political life, seems to have become one with the darkness.
After what seems like an eternity President Snow speaks again; "This is what we will do. You will make the technicians change the database-system so that every personal file can be compared with my son's DNA. You and your so called 'team of experts' will then start going through all the male tributes that have been in the Games for the last four years. And you better pray that there is no match to be found. Afterwards, you will start comparing the files of every single boy from 15-17 years of age in Panem. Start with District 1 and work your way through the districts. And you better find him before the reaping. You have four months at your disposal."
Minister Antonius bows so deeply that he almost sweeps the floor with his uniform while he clutches the papers in his hands. "Yes, sir. Thank you sir. I'll work day and night; no one in the entire department will sleep before the heir has been found."
As he reaches the door, the president's voice echoes through the room, "Antonius … don't you dare return without a name and a DNA-match of 100%."
He cannot believe his own eyes. It must be a dream come true. She's here! She is actually here in the school's gym, sitting in the back of the spectators' enclosure next to Madge Undersee. Of course, if this was truly a dream she would be here voluntarily and not because she probably had been coerced by Madge into showing up and she would be wearing a shirt with his name on it, maybe even blow him a kiss for good luck. But as she is sitting on the bench in her normal clothes, her signature braid made of beautiful and lush dark hair resting gently over her shoulder, glancing out on the masses, he is certain it is no fantasy of his… but close enough, right? She is here and that is all that matters at the moment. Can there be a slight chance she might be here for him? Well, a guy can dream. And maybe, just maybe she will push through the crowd, come up to him and tell him that -
"Peeta! Snap out of it!"
"Huh?" And that is how his bubble of joy bursts. The loud noise inside the gym comes crashing back into his perimeter along with the smell of dampness from sweat in the air and the sight of his second oldest brother right in his face, effectively blocking his view of Katniss Everdeen entirely.
"What on earth are you doing?" Rye whispers as he tries to make Peeta focus on the task at hand.
"Dreaming, I think." Peeta mutters more to himself than his brother. He sure had and what a time to chose to let his fantasies run off.
"I can see that, but guess what? Wake up!" With a snap of his fingers, Rye brings him back to reality and just in time. He is currently finding himself sitting on a wooden stool at his side of the matt just before the start of a wrestling match – the district school's semi-finals to be exact. This is his last match of the day as the final is held a week from now so the competitors have a chance to both practise and recover before the big showdown.
Rye is already a finalist, having fought his way to victory only 30 minutes ago and that means he has time to coach Peeta. He is still wearing his own wrestling uniform and his hair and not to mention his body odour is in desperate need of a bath. So basically, Peeta could have seen his own reflection since he probably looks the same at the moment. They are probably quite a sight at the moment, and he pities the persons standing close to them.
Their oldest brother, Bannock, had been the district champion when he was in school last year after having defeated Rye in a head-to-head match - and also the year before that and the year before that as well. Now, it is almost a tradition that the final is to be between two Mellark brothers – and this year it is Peeta's turn to be a contestant. Up until now everything had gone according to plan. He had taken down all his competitors with relative ease. But then he takes a better look at his opponent sitting at the opposite end of the matt.
"I'm not sure I want to wake up. Just look at him." Peeta admits in a voice so low that only Rye is able to hear him.
His opponent is a guy from the Seam who Peeta knows is in Rye's class, which makes him two years older than Peeta. He also knows that although this guy is a member of the wrestling team just like himself, he never practice in the same place as Peeta. Apparently, the unwritten rule about not mixing Seam and Merchants still stands, even at sport events. It has nothing to do with their coach keeping them separately, it's just the way things work. None from the Seam wish to train at the same time as the merchants, a silent statement of which the merchants seem to agree with. The conclusion is that Peeta has actually never seen his opponent practise. He knows none of his weaker points, none of his fighting style and this guy seems pretty intimidating if he has to be honest.
Rye gives a quick glance at the opponent and then focuses entirely on his younger brother. With a wicked smile he tells him, "Don't worry about him. Those muscles are rented."
Turned out Rye was right. The guy was strong, but not strong enough and his technique was way off. When the match began, he came on to Peeta with his full force, but with one fluent motion Peeta managed to turn his own defence into an offence by turning his opponent's own strength against him. He was able to pin him down pretty quickly.
Rye is beside himself with joy due to with his brother's triumph and manages to get Peeta into a headlock and shuffles his sweaty golden curls into a mess - just to set the stage for next week. Delly Cartwright, Peeta's best friend, is ecstatic and her happy cries threaten to burst his eardrums as she hugs him tightly. All his friends seem to want to congratulate him on his win and to have his attention. But Peeta has a whole other matter on his mind. He quickly looks up at the back of the spectators' enclosure, desperately trying to find Katniss among the other students. He spots Madge rather quickly, who is on her way to reach him. For a short moment his heart rate quickens, but his vain hope that Katniss would still be with Madge disappears when Katniss is nowhere to be seen. Dammit, she was there a moment ago and now she had left. Did she even stay to see his win?
"Why Peeta, I knew you had it in you! We haven't disappointed our fans and now we will have another Mellark vs. Mellark finale round yet again. But don't you think, I'll let you win, baby bro'. Bannock never went easy on me, so don't count on me going easy on you. Enjoy your victory while you can, because you're going down." Rye teases him as he makes a point of pinching Peeta's left cheek.
The disappointment that Katniss had bailed the moment the fight had ended – or perhaps the moment it started – does not last for long. As it turned out, their dad had given Bannock the afternoon off so he could be present in the gym to watch his brothers wrestle. And now, Peeta finds himself surrounded by his friends and his two brothers as they exit the gym. Their mood is high as his friends keep talking about todays' matches, analysing the moves of each contestant. They don't even acknowledge the thick knee-high winter coat of snow that they are forcing their way through, nor does the cold bickering wind manage to shake them.
As they make it to the crossroad separating the Seam from Town their mood turns sour, as a group of five people from the Seam passes them by. Obviously they know Peeta's opponent, as one of them snickers loud enough for everyone to here, "Yeah, laugh all you want. But it doesn't matter a thing. Wrestling is just a kid's game; boxing is for real men. And not one of you townies, watching down upon us from your ivory towers, will even last a second if it came to a real fight."
"What is that supposed to mean Dagan? Are you really such a bad looser that you can't see that your brother was wiped out twenty minutes ago by a 15 year old? Maybe if you had taught him how to wrestle properly, it wouldn't have been such a pitiful sight. If wrestling is for kids, then you're probably too dumb to know how to box since you clearly don't know a thing about wrestling!" Rye snaps back at him.
Peeta wants to slap him – or at least stuff his face with snow. Of course, Rye has been stupid enough to take the bait before anyone could stop him. Sure, it's nice that Rye for once defends him, but there is no reason for a quarrel and especially over something as stupid as hurt imaginary pride. Delly takes a step closer to Peeta, holding on to his arm as she nervously looks from Rye to Dagan. Sensing her discomfort Peeta brings his arm around her frame to comfort her and to insure her that nothing is going to happen – or at least he hopes nothing is going to happen.
The guys from the Seam exchange knowing looks as Dagan smirks at Rye. He crosses his arms across the chest and gives Rye an upward nod, which gives him a look of arrogance. "You want to play that game? All right, Mellark. In that case, don't you think it's time to sort out the men from the boys around here? You pick your best townie to fight in a boxing match and we'll pick our contestant. Only adults – that is 19 years and older. And to make things easy for you, we choose Larkwood. Now you know the opponent."
Rye scans the small crowd and it does not take him a long time to think. Apparently, he has already chosen his pick in less than ten seconds, "Fine. I choose Bannock. After all, he has won the wrestling tournament three years in a row. Let's see if this Larkwood can compete with that."
Stuffing Rye's face with snow will not do any longer. He needs to be coated in snow from top to bottom, and Peeta has to make sure that it gets under all of his clothes. From the way these guys are smirking, he decides that they look far too happy about the turnout of this little 'conversation'. Rye must have missed something. Who is this Larkwood-person anyway?
Dagan directs his attention to Bannock and gives him a loaded smile, "Five days from now at 6 pm; behind the school's gym. Don't be late."
Peeta and his friends remain standing in the snow as they watch Dagan and his gang leave. Once they are out of sight, Bannock grabs Rye by the arm, the panic and frustration flowing from him. "Are you crazy? What have you gotten me into? A real fight?!"
Rye, however, does not seem fazed about it at all, in fact he looks quite at peace. "Relax, Bannock. You're the best wrestler the district has ever had. You'll be fine." he states as he removes his arm from his brother's grip.
And with that, Rye begins to walk away, leaving the others behind. Bannock takes a moment to collect himself before stumbling after Rye, but not before muttering, "One day, I'm going to strangle him."
Since all of the Mellark brothers have a fight ahead of them, Rye has designed a brutal workout program for the three of them but Peeta is sure the workout is mostly to get Bannock into shape again. Bannock had been working full time at the bakery for the last year, and even though his strength has not faltered, his condition needs all the help it can get.
Currently, Peeta is jogging in a steadfast tempo on the snow-clad roads. He's at the front of the line. Rye has placed himself in the middle, taking on the job of coaching Bannock into shape. "Let's go! Don't remember to breathe deeply. Run!"
Rye barks out the orders like he has the time of his life watching Bannock struggle. Peeta slows down a bit so the two others can catch up. When they do, Bannock comes to a stop and places his hands on his knees as he breathes heavily, "I'm tired, Rye. How far have I run?" he asks.
"80 feet." Peeta tells him. Surely, he cannot be done for already.
"That'll do it." Bannock wheezes, "I figure to punch him, not run him to death."
"No way! We have 30 minutes ahead of us." Rye states. He walks over to Bannock and takes a hold of his clothes and pulls him into an upright position. "Come on, you spineless slug. Pick those legs up! Move it!"
"Now, put more shoulder into it. Use your whole body. Try it again!"
They are two days into Rye's program and Bannock is trying to learn to control his punches by using their punching back that is hanging from one of the naked branches of the apple tree in their backyard. Rye has made himself Bannock's official coach and Peeta, his assistant.
Delly comes walking around the corner of the bakery with one of their bags in her arms. She must have been sent to the bakery for her mother, who at the moment is ill with the flu.
"Morning Delly" Peeta greets happily. Delly's visits are always something that lightens everyone's spirits. She raises her hand to them in a cheerful greeting, "Morning, guys. I can see you are busy?"
Peeta is about to tell her about Rye's crazy workout plan and of Bannock's progress, but before he can utter a word, Rye is all about strictness and once again takes the task of coaching way too seriously. "I'm afraid I can't ask you to stay. My boy's in training. He is not even supposed to look at a woman till after the fight." he clarifies.
Fortunately, Delly never takes things personally. She just smiles understandingly and with a twinkle in her eyes, she says, "Oh, I understand. Good luck!" And with another cheerful wave she is on her way.
The day before the fight, Delly comes by the bakery to visit. But unlike the other day when she found them by the punching bag, she looks far from cheerful. She gives them a smile that does not reach her eyes as she sits down at the main table in the back of the bakery.
Peeta is deep into frosting a bunch of cupcakes with different shapes of snowflakes to make them seem more winter-like to go with the season. He puts down the frosting bag and walks over to her.
"Anything wrong, Delly?" he gently asks her. For good measure he places a hand on her shoulder, which he knows has a calming effect on her.
She starts fiddling with a spoon that lies on the table. As casually as she can, she tells them about her resent discovery. "I've just seen the fighter from the Seam. He looks really big… looks kind of mean too."
That earns her Bannock's full attention. "Mean?" he asks slightly concerned.
Rye is quick to butt into the conversation, "What does 'mean' mean? 'Mean' means nothing. It's skill that counts. Big and mean have nothing to do with it."
Yeah right, Peeta thinks. Technique will get you a long way in wrestling, but if the opponent in boxing only needs one punch to knock you out, then the odds are not in your favour. That's probably what Rye had missed about Dagan's 'gracious' challenge the other day. And now, Bannock risks spending tomorrow evening as a punching bag. Great Rye. Just excellent!
Delly seems to be thinking something along the same lines as she elaborates, "It's said that he was working down in the mines and this runaway mine cart came too close to him…" she makes a small pause before she continues, " … he punched it."
"He punched a runaway minecart?" Peeta slowly asks. But that is crazy. No one can do that and walk away unharmed, can they? He searches her face for any sign that she might be pulling a joke on them. But he finds none. Instead her face remains sad.
"He knocked it out." she tells them in almost a whisper.
For a moment the back of the bakery is completely silent. The warmth from the ovens seems to diminish as the chilling information sinks in. Then Bannock throws a fit out of pure desperation, "Rye! This guy knocks out runaway mine carts! I tell you one thing. This fight has just been called on account of chicken."
"We're not going to throw in the towel!"
"I'm ready to throw in the whole laundry basket!" Bannock exclaims. And to make a statement, he slams his own dishtowel onto the table with as much force as he can muster.
What had started as a normal shift and brotherly banter has turned out to be an intense staring competition with a contestant on each side of the working table. Although Peeta has great confidence in Bannock's wrestling abilities, he starts to doubt if they are useful when boxing against a man that seems to be made of stone. Rye, on the other hand, still seems to think that they can win this. "That ape will never lay a glove on you. Trust me."
The wheels inside Bannock's head seem to be working on maximum. Thinking he knows what Rye means, he points a finger towards Rye and nods frantically, "Right, I'll go down during the instructions."
Rye snorts and gives him a look that clearly says 'are you mental?'. "A little obvious, don't you think?" He takes a moment to think, his eyes is completely shut and that is a typical sign that a concoction of a plan is in the making, and those things never go well. And sure enough, a moment later he almost beams as he looks at the three of them with a triumphant smile, "I got a better idea. Just give me an hour and you'll see."
Before any of them can question him, Rye has untied his apron, grabbed a sweater and his jacket and storms out of the back door. He is likely far away when Bannock calls after him, "But your ideas are always shit."
Two hours later, Peeta and Bannock have finally managed to end their shifts downstairs and cleaned the entire room using a whole hour more than usual thanks to Rye. Bannock is taking a powernap on his bed while Peeta is sitting by the worn and old desk that had been placed in their room. Peeta sneaks a glance at Bannock and cannot help but feeling a bit jealous at him for the moment. He can relax while Peeta has to complete his math homework that he has tried to postpone for as long as possible, which now comes back full of vengeance to bite him in a certain area. He eyes the bed again. It looks softer than his own, but that is probably because he shares a bunk bed with Rye. And Rye is the most restless sleeper of all time, making the bed shake every time he tosses and turns. Oh, the privilege of being younger and having to share a room with your two brothers.
Rye storms into their room, looking much like the cat that just ate its prey. Bannock opens one eye to see what all the fuss is about. With a triumphant gesture Rye brings out a small blue metal bottle, where the colour has faded drastically over the years. So basically, it looks like the bottles they have downstairs. But it's when he opens the bottle that Peeta, or rather when his nose, understands what the bottle contains.
"Is that ether?" he asks as he pinches his nose to avoid having to smell it.
The smile on Rye's face falters for a moment as he quickly shuts the door behind him and stops the cork back into the bottle. "A little louder. I don't think mom heard it."
So that's Rye's genius plan. He's going to cheat their way to victory. How grand of him. "It's not very ethical."
"It's not even near moral, but all is fair in love and war." he shrugs and with grin he adds, "Perhaps you should borrow it to knock out Hawthorne."
And that is the reason why Peeta hates that his brothers have discovered is crush on Katniss. And in all the years they have known, they have been so kind to remind him of it at every chance they had. Thankfully, they have never embarrassed him publicly or told anyone about it. As far as he is concerned only four persons know about his feeling for Katniss: his father, his brothers and Delly. His mother might not have a suspicion about it, but he has a feeling that she will not take it well if she ever discovered it. Besides, he still blushes when he catches Katniss looking his way, not that she would do that intentionally, but still.
"Shut up, Rye! Where did you even get that?" he asks, trying to get the conversation back on track and to not let his cheeks heat up more than necessary.
"The Hob. I have my contacts in order."
"The Hob? But that's the black market."
Rye leans against the wall next to the desk and Bannock's bed, efficiently planting himself between his two brothers. "So? Don't worry your golden little head about it. Besides, even though you have an impeccable moral, you're not dumb. If Bannock breaks his arms, you and I will have to cover his shifts for weeks."
Well, that is true enough. If Bannock cannot work, he knows all too well who has to cover his shifts for him. Perhaps Rye's plan is not as awful as he thought. Still, that's not to say that it is flawless in anyway.
"Look, I don't want to risk my life on a dumb trick like this. I just aged out of the reapings." Bannock tells them. He is now sitting upright on the bed with his hands on his knees.
"Relax. I know what I'm doing. And we are going to use a lot of it." Rye tries to reassure him that his plan is fool proof, but Peeta has seen enough of Rye's plans go down the drain, so he cannot blame Bannock for not trusting him completely. That is when he comes up with another solution, "I say we should use a horseshoe."
So apparently Bannock is okay with cheating as well. That is a first. But Peeta can clearly see the benefits of cheating just this time, even though that plan could be potentially problematic. Rye shakes his head and lets the bottle in his hand swing from side to side, "A horseshoe is too obvious. Ether is subtle."
"Then let's dip the horseshoe in ether!" Bannock insist.
Rye flops himself down on the bed beside Bannock and throws an arm around him, "Listen. The thing you got to do, is you're got to jab. Keep jabbing. Six whiffs and he'll be out cold. And the thing to remember is not to get it near your own hooter or you're down."
That could actually work, but Bannock could be jabbing for a long time, if he does not get close enough to Larkwood. To be sure he needs to plant the glove in Larkwood's face for at least five seconds. That is when the answer comes to Peeta. Their wrestling skills can still be of good use, "Get him in a clinch?" he suggests.
Rye avidly points at him, "Yeah, that's it. Get him in a clinch and hold it near his nose. He's going to inhale it. He won't even know what hit him. All he can do then is pass out. Problem solved."
Bannock sighs deeply; he probably cannot believe they are actually going to do this, "Just make sure, that you use enough. I don't want this guy to wake up before I've been married for many years."
Bannock and Rye had left an hour ago. Rye looking confident and extremely happy, as he was in no doubt that the brilliant plan of his was going to be flawless. Bannock, on the other hand had not shared his enthusiasm. After all, he was the one who was going inside the ring. Peeta had not been entirely certain that things were going to go smoothly. So many things could go wrong. Someone could see the ether being poured onto Bannock's gloves, the peacekeepers could have been tipped off about the fight, or someone could be a bad loser and it all could end in a massive fight. Peeta himself had to stay behind for several reasons. Rye's version was that he was to cover for them should their parents ask about their lie of going to the Brogans. Bannock did not want Peeta anywhere near the fight, being the overprotective older brother he is. So instead, it was decided that Peeta should take Bannock's shift at the bakery tonight, preparing the dough for tomorrow.
Still, Peeta cannot help but let his thoughts fly to his brothers as he mixes flour with the eggs, the butter and the milk. Would there even be a fight? Did Rye's plan work? Why are they not back yet? With a sigh he adds the raisins into the dough. It will not do him anything good to be thinking like this. Instead, he lets his thoughts wander off to more pleasant things – like a certain young lady with hair as dark as ebony and eyes as grey as the shining moon.
He thinks about how she was present in the gym the other day. How many of his fights did she see? Hopefully she had seen them all and perhaps he had managed to impress her just a tiny bit. It seems to be the only way he can get her attention. And he desperately needs her attention so he can finally get to speak with her. When he manages to do that he just needs to figure out what his next step will be. He cannot really decide if the best tactic is to go all in and declare himself right away or to become her friend first. That will probably be the best way to do it. But something tells him that just being friends with her will be a different kind of pain than the one he is suffering from at the moment with her being out of his reach. At least, that way he will be closer to her.
Once he had thought of baking something just for her. It had been everything from a heart shaped cookie to a cupcake and even a whole cake with elaborative decorations and frosting, which probably would have earned him a daily beating with the rolling pin for a month or two. But as he became older he was glad he had not done that. Katniss would never have accepted anything of that kind. She would probably have shoved it into his face for making such a pathetic attempt to woo her. What was he thinking at that time? Flounder her with cakes when food is scares in the district? Idiot. Once a time, he had the ridiculous idea to leave her a sketch of herself with a note attached on the side. But he would probably have come off as a creeper and a stalker. No need to say that he gave that idea up pretty quickly.
Until this day he still has not found a good way to tell her about his feelings without making a fool of himself. Every Sunday she and Gale knock on the backdoor to trade and every Sunday he bails. He tries to tell himself that Gale's presence is the reason he gives the frosting extra attention for the five minutes they are there. But if he has to be honest, he probably would not find the courage to speak to her if she came alone. And besides, what can he offer her that Gale Hawthorne cannot? Gale provides for his family. He brings them deer, turkeys, rabbits, and boars. All that Peeta had ever managed to slay was a mouse that had found its way into the storage room; hardly impressive.
Peeta realises that he is kneading the dough with such force that he is practically hitting it. Great, now he can add dough to his kill list.
He looks out of the window and spots two persons wobbling towards the bakery. One is leaning heavily on the other one, who tries to keep them walking in a straight line. Their blond hair almost light up in the darkness of the evening. Oh no, this cannot be good. Peeta quickly wipes his hands clean and abandons the dough on the table as he sprints out of the backdoor. The cold wind envelopes him, but he does not give it a second thought as he runs to his brothers in nothing but a thin, short-sleeved shirt and an apron around his waist over his grey pants.
Bannock is heavily beaten up with bruises several places, a bloody nose and a black eye, that is already starting to swell. Guess there must have been a hick-up to Rye's master-plan, which comes as no surprise to him. Rye is surprisingly unharmed but is clearly suffering from having to carry Bannock all the way home.
"Bannock! Are you okay?" He asks frantically as he reaches them. Immediately he takes the place on the other side of Bannock and lifts Bannock's arm around his neck so he can help holding him up as well.
Peeta can just make out that Rye is shaking his head. "Turns out there was nothing in the bottle but pure water. I don't know what happened!"
"But that doesn't make sense. We all know it was in there yesterday." Peeta says. He had definitely not imagined the foul stench that threatened to take up the entire air in their bedroom yesterday.
"Ahem, boys?"
The deep and usually warm voice makes it through the wind, causing them to an immediate stop and makes Peeta feel the coldness seep into his bones. Their dad is standing right in front of them and in his left hand he holds an exact replica of the bottle Rye had brought with them to the match. Mr. Mellark holds out the bottle so it cannot escape their view. "Does anyone care to explain what this is?" he asks them.
"That's just for… a new recipe I'm trying out. I call it "the knock-out-cake"!" Rye states and he tries to back up his story with the brightest smile he can muster. Not believing his own ears, Peeta manages to smack Rye on the backside of his head. That has got to be the worst lie of all time.
Their dad raises an eyebrow at Rye. Clearly, he has not bought the lie, but then again, who did Rye think he could fool. Certainly not their dad, who knows everything there is to know about his sons. "You want to stick with that story?" he challenges him.
"No, I'm working on a better one." Rye answers cheekily and Peeta mentally facepalms himself.
"Keep working and follow me," their father tells them as he starts to turn around. He stops for a moment and then faces his sons again, this time with a completely new expression. "Bannock? What happened to you?" he asks.
"That's what happens when you take the ether." Rye mutters.
Mr. Mellark throws Rye a dark look and his trademark, his abnormally big amount of patience, is clearing wearing thin, "I see that my oldest son has been beaten to a pulp!"
"Then you should see the guy from the Seam." Clearly, Rye does not get the memo that it is about time to shut up.
Bannock, who has remained oddly quite during the whole encounter has had enough of the bickering and is choosing to let himself known. "Hello! A little concern here? I'm now officially in extreme pain. You don't believe me? ARGH!"
Bannock must have held that roar of pain back for a long time. Peeta is certain that his right eardrum has snapped in two. Geez, if Bannock's voice level represents just half of the pain he is in, then Peeta is surprised that he has not passed out yet.
"What on earth is going on out here!" a harsh voice cuts through the air and the boys freeze on the spot. Oh no, not their mother. The most vicious woman in the entire district. Can this get any worse?
She is standing in the doorway to the back entrance; arms crossed above her chest, hair brought up in a tight bun and a stern frown upon her face. It is actually amazing that her face have not cracked yet from the mere strength in that frown. Her blue eyes send daggers their way for making such a fuss outside the bakery for all to hear. "I can see you have been fighting? Like some mere animal in a cage! And you two, what have you known about this?" she spits at her sons.
Peeta can feel Bannock beginning to stir between them as he awkwardly tries to explain about what exactly had happened. "Mother, I ehm.. you see, what happened was..."
Their mother raises a finger his way "Stop it right there, young man. I will not hear another word. My son, fighting! Unbelievable! And I suppose you got yourself beaten up?"
"Actually, he won." Rye butts in, but as soon as the words have left his mouth, he visibly retracts and waits for a reprimand or perhaps a slap. Peeta has just enough time to think that it probably will be option number one, but then he realises something odd.
Their mother chooses neither of the two options. Instead, she looks at the three of them with a certain curiosity that Peeta cannot quite place. She crosses her arms once more and gives them what might could be mistaken as the hint of a smile. "Well, at least that's something. That Seam-trash will have learned not to mess with our family again."
Then she turns on her heels and walks back into the bakery with the dishtowel fluttering behind her in the wind, leaving her husband and three sons in shock of what had just happened.
AN:
First of all, I would like to thank the wonderful people who decided to review chapter 1. I use the reviews as guidance to make the story as good as possible. So thank you very much!
Well, there you have it. Chapter 2 is done. I had so much fun writing this and I hope it was to your liking. Again, all mistakes are mine as English is not my first language. The idea for the boxing match came from watching an episode of M.A.S.H., and immediately I thought of Rye and Bannock, so I had to use it.
Happy New Year to everyone!
