Once when Peeta Mellark was seven, he fell out of the apple tree in his back yard and broke his arm. His two older brothers had promised to let him tag along with them if he climbed the tree and hung off of the branch that protruded over the pigpen. Halfway up, his feet had slipped and he had tumbled to the ground, managing to bounce off of several limbs and the top railing of the fence on the way. The audible snap when he landed followed by the lancing pain that shot up his arm pulled a hoarse scream from the small boy and even louder cries from the audience of two watching.

Their father heard the commotion and came quickly to see what had happened. Not waiting to hear the mumbled explanations, he sent Dodson running for the apothecary while he scooped up his youngest and rushed into the bakery. He deposited Peeta on the counter and quickly grabbed a wet cloth from the sink. Muttering epithets under his breath, Pryce cleaned off as much of the blood and dirt as he could while consciously avoiding the misshapen limb. Peeta held his arm close by his side, tears streaming silently down his face as he watched his father clean him up. Pryce patted his knee and smiled reassuringly. "Dodge will be back soon with Mr. Crenshaw, buddy. Just hang on." Peeta gritted his teeth and nodded. Pryce looked at him appraisingly. "You're being very brave, Peeta. I would be screaming at the top of my lungs. It's okay to yell if you need to. It hurts."

Peeta stubbornly shook his head. "I don't want to yell, Dad. I can handle it. She's not afraid and neither am I." Pryce's brow furrowed as he watched his son continue to fight back tears. He was obviously in pain but refused to give any indication beyond an occasional low moan whenever his arm was inadvertently jostled. Peeta's blue eyes locked with his father's and Pryce smiled. To his amazement, Peeta actually smiled back.

"Peeta, what did you mean that she's not afraid? Who is she?" Pryce asked quietly. Peeta glanced at his father and then looked to where Seth stood frozen in the doorway. Pryce regarded him curiously and on a hunch looked at his middle son. "Seth, go and watch the front in case we have a customer. It shouldn't be left unattended." Seth dashed through the swinging doors separating the main area from the kitchen. Once he had disappeared from view, Pryce turned back to his youngest. "Okay, I got rid of him now I want to know what you mean. Who is she? What does this person have to do with you?"

Peeta flinched at his father's no nonsense tone. The motion causes a distressed moan to escape his lips. His face reddened and had he been standing, his feet would have shuffled uncomfortably. "Dad, please." Pryce gave him his most stern look and Peeta swallowed audibly before dropping his gaze to the toe of his sneakers. He huffed out a resigned breath and whispered, "Katniss." His father bent his head closer and placed a reassuring hand on his son's knee. Peeta's eyes flicked back up to meet his fathers. "Katniss, Dad. She wasn't afraid. She was brave because she needed to be. That's what I'm going to do." Pryce shook his head, smiling to himself. Katniss again. That name had come up multiple times since the storm two years ago. She usually made an appearance whenever Peeta faced a difficult or trying situation. That name had become a talisman against anything bad for the young boy. Pryce bit back a grin and kept his face smooth as he met the boy's eyes.

"That's fine. Just fine." Pryce folded the cloth until he found a clean square which he then used to wipe the sweat and blood that matted Peeta's hair just over his temple. "You're doing great. Mr. Crenshaw will be here soon. You just rest until he gets here. He'll fix you right up."

A few moments later, the portly apothecary followed a distraught Dodge into the kitchen. Seth peeked in through the swinging doors. "Heard that someone had an accident," the old man's gravelly voice held an undercurrent of amusement. He grinned at the tow headed boy huddled on the counter cradling his arm. "Didn't anybody ever tell you that you're not a bird, boy?" Peeta gave the old man a tentative smile. Mr. Crenshaw set down his beat up leather bag and nudged the baker gently out of the way. "I'm going to take a look at you to see how bad you've messed yourself up. I'll be as gentle as I can but it will probably hurt, son. There's no avoiding that." He unbuttoned the flannel pullover that the boy wore and eased it of his good arm. He nodded to Pryce who grasped Peeta's uninjured arm and held him in a tight grip. "I have to take this off of you so that I can get a closer look at your arm. Try to hold as still as possible."

Peeta nodded and then glanced at his father. Pryce bent closer to his son and whispered softly in his ear. Whatever the man said, the boy smiled slightly and nodded. Pryce met Mr. Crenshaw's curious glance and shrugged. The old man eased the sleeve over the mangled arm and tossed it aside. He ran his hands over the raised and swollen flesh then set back. "It's broken. The good news is that it didn't break the skin. The bad news is that although I can set it, I can't give him anything for the pain. My strongest mixture won't make a dent. He may go into shock as well." He eyed the baker. "My advice is to set the arm. It's the only way that he might retain full usage of his limb." Pryce gulped and looked at his son. Peeta smiled reassuringly and squeezed his father's hand. Pryce nodded his assent and the old man directed him to hold Peeta down while he readied himself to straighten the limb. The two older boys were brought in to secure his feet. Seth was openly crying while Dodge managed to maintain a stoic expression.

Pryce Mellark gently gripped his youngest son's free arm and shoulder. His eyes met the boy's, and he smiled soothingly and then bore down with his full weight. Dodge and Seth grabbed his feet and restrained them. Mr. Crenshaw took hold of the injured arm by both the wrist and elbow. "On three," he intoned. "One. Two. Three." The three Mellarks pushed down as hard as they could. Mr. Crenshaw put a cloth wrapped stick in Peeta's mouth and twisted then jerked the arm. The boy's jaw visibly tightened and a crunch could be heard as his teeth bit completely through the stick. A hoarse gasp escaped him. The apothecary grunted with the effort of pulling the arm back into place. The bone creaked as it grated against the other but settled back into place with a wet snap. He grabbed a board and sterile bandage then swiftly wound it around the arm. He fashioned a sling and slid the board inside the wide triangle. That accomplished, he patted the baker on the shoulder and nodded to the boy.

Pryce looked into his son's blue eyes and smiled gently. "You were very brave. You did well, son. She's so proud of you, Peeta."

The smile that lit his son's face could have rivaled the sun for brilliance. "Katniss," he whispered. Saying that, his eyes rolled back and he slipped away. The baker looked hurriedly at the old man who was adjusting the splint into a more comfortable angle across the boy's chest.

"Pain finally got to him. Surprised that he held out as long as he did," the apothecary declared. "I've seen grown men drop at having a bone set. He's a brave lad."

Pryce smiled and smoothed back the damp curls that fell over his son's forehead. "He is. He's one of the bravest people that I know."

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The smell of scorched bread wasn't something that one wished to encounter in a bakery. The urgent voice of his brother penetrated the fog that Peeta had sunk into. He blinked, lifting his head from an intense examination the ball of dough that he was ineffectually kneading, and focused on Seth who was the source of all the noise. His brother was waving a hand in front of his face as he hastily pulled tray after tray from the brick oven. Peeta swore under his breath and raced to help. The bread had turned a brown almost as dark as mahogany. A few edges had shaded almost black but none was burnt beyond repair. Seth shot his brother an irritated look as the pair pulled the last loaves from the fire.

"Way to go, idiot," Seth muttered. "You almost set us back an entire morning's work. Where is your head lately? You've been a space cadet for the last few days."

Peeta blew out an irritated breath and raked a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I don't know what my problem is. I just can't concentrate." A frown creased his forehead as he avoided his brother's searching glance. "Why don't you take off? I'll finish this up and get the prep done for tomorrow. I owe you anyway. You saved my ass."

Seth grinned and gave him a knowing look. "You just want to distract me so that you don't have to answer the question. It won't work little brother. What's with you?" He grinned and cocked an eyebrow. "Don't tell me that you finally woke up and came out of your shell. Who is she? She has to be spectacular."

Peeta rolled his eyes and flipped a rude gesture which caused Seth to chuckle. "Why does it have to be a girl? Can't a guy just have a bad day? God, you're getting as bad as Gale!" He shoved the last few loaves into the racks and tossed his brother a disgruntled look. "Look, I appreciate all this interest in my social life but I'm not ready to get tied down. I haven't found a girl that makes me want to take that leap. When I do, you and Gale will be the first ones to know. Okay?"

Seth, having heard this same refrain countless times from his younger brother, shook his head, grabbed a cloth, and began to wipe down the countertops. "Something is wrong with you and everybody has noticed, Peeta. You're not concentrating. Your wrestling practices have been shit. You almost burned an oven full of bread. Your best friends haven't seen you in days. You do know that the wrestling championships are this weekend. If you screw that up, Dodge will kill you himself. So, little brother, what gives? If it's not a girl, what the hell is going on? "

Peeta shrugged and went to the sink to grab another wet rag. He started wiping down the other counter, avoiding Seth's questioning gaze. Their father quietly entered the kitchen and watched as the two finished cleaning the kitchen. He silently retrieved a broom and dustpan from the closet and made short work of the floors. Seth went out front to refill the display shelves and get the tables set up for the following day. Pryce watched as Peeta folded up the towel he had been using and launched it into the sink. The downcast expression looked out of place on the boy. "What's wrong, Peeta?" He questioned. "Is there something that you need to talk about? You can tell me, you know."

Peeta glanced at his father and blew out a deep breath. His blue eyes were uncertain and he unconsciously knotted his fingers together. Finally, he seemed to gather himself and turned to Pryce with a stoic expression. "Where did you get the story that you told me when I was five? Was she real?" His eyes searched his father's face almost desperately. "I found that picture in the old albums. I was determined to give her a face. When I found that, I just knew and then you confirmed it. As I got older, I just thought that you were humoring me. I thought that it was a distant cousin or something but it's not, is it? It's really her and you knew her. How, Dad? Who is she really?" He pulled the faded, battered photograph from a pants pocket and handed it to his father. "Who was she?"

Pryce Mellark blinked rapidly to dispel the sudden sheen of tears that clouded his vision. He ran a finger gently over the picture's surface and nodded slowly. "This photo came from your grandmother, Peeta. It was taken shortly before they left the District. The girl, as you've guessed, is Katniss. The woman in the background is her mother, Hyacinth." His fingers traced the blonde woman's face and a sad smile quirked his lips. "When I was your age, Hyacinth Connolly was one of my best friends. We went everywhere together. Maysilee Donner was another girl that we spent time with but I was not as close to her as Hyacinth was. She was reaped along with Haymitch Abernathy during the fiftieth anniversary of the Hunger Games. That was the last year that the Games were held but it was also the worst. They required double the usual number of tributes that year. We had to send two girls and two boys to the Capital. Maysilee, Haymitch and two others went. When Maysilee died, it almost killed Hyacinth. Haymitch won but he was different when he came back. "

Pryce slid the picture back across the table to Peeta. He rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Basil Everdeen was Haymitch Abernathy's best friend. When Haymitch returned, Basil went to see him. I don't know what was said but the two walked away from each other and didn't speak a word in public after that day. Basil was the only person who could draw Hyacinth out of her depression. They began to meet. It broke my heart because I loved her." Pryce met his son's gaze squarely. "I wanted to marry her but she could never see me as anything but a friend. During those days, a Merchant girl didn't associate with a boy from the Seam. I didn't care about that. I just wanted her to get better. I wanted her to be happy even if it wasn't with me." Pryce felt tears well up once again. He swiped his eyes roughly with one hand. "When her parents found out, they ordered her to cut ties with him. She refused, so they disowned her and turned her out of the house. My mother took her in and gave her a place to stay. She was a witness at their wedding. She watched Katniss as a baby when Hyacinth needed help. You and she played together as toddlers at my mother's house." Pryce grinned at Peeta's disbelieving expression.

His face suddenly became serious and his tone hardened, "What isn't commonly known is that Haymitch Abernathy had been approached by a group that was intent on overthrowing the government of the Capital. They considered the Hunger Games to be barbaric and unjust. Haymitch agreed to help them by setting up safe havens and secure routes for moving soldiers and supplies. He needed others in the District to help. One of those who agreed wholeheartedly was Basil Everdeen. Within a year after the last Games, the Rebels had made significant inroads. They managed to work with an inside group of dissidents to defeat the Capital. President Snow was executed for his crimes. The acting leader, Alma Coin, took over provisionally after Snow's death. She proposed reinstating the Hunger Games using Capital born children to pacify the Districts. She was assassinated in a coup that was opposed to her radical plan. Jessica Paylor was elected by majority to head the temporary government. She did such an outstanding job that she's held the post ever since.

Snow still had supporters that were determined to get revenge. For the next few years, they made several attempts on Paylor's life. None were successful. They then decided to go after the network of support that she had amassed in the Districts. It remained a well-kept secret that Haymitch had helped the Rebels. Somehow, the Capital had information regarding the movements of supplies through the district. Basil Everdeen's name appeared on a few lists but there was no significant proof. It was enough for them to begin watching him. I pleaded with Hyacinth to convince him to walk away for her sake and then for Katniss. The first attempt on his life was a year before the baby was born. Hyacinth came to stay with my mother while Basil attempted to lay low and avoid notice. After Katniss was born, he did stand down for a time. When you were two, another attempt was made and this time Basil was wounded. Haymitch managed to make the official story read as a mining injury. Basil was out of work for a couple of weeks. Haymitch and my mother made sure that Hyacinth and the baby had enough to eat. We finally convinced Basil that he needed to take action to better protect Hyacinth and Katniss. When Katniss turned five, Basil finally made his move.

They had prepared for months and finally the opportunity presented itself. There was a mining explosion. Basil's name was listed among the work crew that had been on shift. He didn't make it out. Hyacinth seemed to shut down. She disappeared from all society. While in reality, the three of them disappeared into the woods; officially, Basil died in the mines and Hyacinth succumbed to depression and eventually died of a broken heart. The girl, with no other family, was placed in the community home. She was sickly and didn't live beyond age five."

Peeta stared at his father in wide-eyed awe. He looked at the picture clutched in his hands. "Are they still out there or were they found? Do you know what happened to them?"

Pryce shook his head, "I haven't heard anything in eleven years, Peeta. It seems unlikely that they would be able to hide out there forever. They haven't been seen or heard from since they left. For all I know, they could be dead."

Even though Peeta had seen proof positive that Katniss at least was still alive, he couldn't bring himself to confess the sighting to his father. There was too much uncertainty. He still ventured a question, "Who would know for sure what had happened to them?"

Pryce frowned in confusion. He eyed Peeta, and then asked a question of his own. "Why so curious, son? What is the sudden interest in ancient history?" Peeta shrugged blue eyes hopeful as they stared pleadingly at his father. Pryce relented, "Haymitch Abernathy. He would know if anyone would." He patted Peeta's hands and then moved toward the front entrance. "I think it would be a waste of your time. He's drunk more often than not. He's not the most sociable person either but if you're determined to follow up with this, he would be your best bet."

"Thanks, Dad!" Peeta exclaimed. "Thank you so much!" He tossed Pryce a huge grin and bounded up the stairs. Pryce couldn't resist smiling. The boy was chasing shadows. He was determined but the Everdeens had disappeared over eleven years ago. Peeta had hung onto his childhood fascination with Katniss far longer than Pryce ever thought possible. When he finally understood that some things just weren't meant to be, it would hurt. The boy's open heart would be dented but not broken. Haymitch Abernathy would be brutal in the telling, but it was necessary. Dreams couldn't last forever. The quicker Peeta learned that lesson, the better.

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His heart was racing and his palms were sweaty. He stared at the door for a full moment trying to work up the nerve to knock. His hand was raised to pound on the door when it opened and he was suddenly face to face with Haymitch Abernathy, Victor of the 50th Hunger Games. His shaggy hair hung limply in his eyes and his undershirt bore the signs of several days wear. Peeta looked at the old man nervously. He opened his mouth but Haymitch barked at him before he could get a word out, "Who are you and what the hell are you doing on my porch?" Peet's mouth opened and closed several times but no sound escaped. Haymitch watched him with growing amusement as the boy's face flushed red. "Well speak up, boy. I don't have all day."

Peeta swallowed noisily. Finally, he forced out, "I wanted to talk to you about something important, sir. My father told me that you would be the only one who could help me."

Haymitch's face broke into a grin. "Your father, huh? Listen, son, if you need a lecture on the facts of life then you're barking up the wrong tree. My only interests are white liquor and what I'm having for dinner. Other than that, my days are pretty much wide open."

Peeta frowned but pulled out the picture that had been his constant companion for the last eleven years. He reluctantly handed it over when the old man reached for it. "I wanted to know about the girl. I need to find her. I think that you can help me."

Haymitch's face was wiped clean of all expression. He glanced at the picture as if it was unimportant. He snorted and handed it back, smirking as Peeta carefully smoothed the edges before returning it to a pocket. "You don't strike me as someone who is interested in a history lesson, kid. The Everdeens are long gone. Dead and buried. Why don't you go find a nice girl your own age to bother? I'm late for my nap."

"Please, Mr. Abernathy. I know that she's not dead. I need to find her and you can help me do that." Peeta pleaded desperately. "I saw her in the woods. She ran away before I could talk to her."

Haymitch's eyes narrowed threateningly, "You saw her where? Does anybody else know what you think you saw?"

Peeta shook his head, "I'd never tell anyone. I know that it's dangerous for her. I just want to talk to her. Get to know her." He began twisting his fingers together agitatedly. "Please, Mr. Abernathy. I really need your help. I have to find her."

Haymitch frowned, "Why is it so important that you find this girl? You don't even know her, boy? Why is this so important?"

"I need to find her because I love her. I have since I was five years old." Peeta burst out. Haymitch's eyebrows rose into his hairline. Peeta felt his cheeks burning but he stubbornly continued. "When I was five, my father told me a story about her. I found this picture and have kept it with me ever since. I've drawn her more times than I can count. She's the only girl for me. I know that." He looked pleadingly at Haymitch. "I know that this sounds crazy but I swear it's the truth. Please, will you help me?"

Haymitch's expression was a strange mixture of confusion and amusement. "Who's your father, kid? How would he know anything about Katniss Everdeen?"

Peeta blew out a deep breath and answered slowly, "Pryce Mellark, the baker, is my father. I think that he knew Katniss' mom. I think they were friends as some point. He's the one who suggested that I talk to you."

Haymitch chuckled, "Pryce Mellark. That explains a lot." He studied the boy with faded, but still sharp blue eyes. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision. "Be here tonight at 2am. Make sure that you aren't followed. I can't make you any promises about the girl. It's not up to me who she sees and who she doesn't. I will take you as far as I can. Maybe you can convince him of this ridiculous story? It will be worth it just to see you try."

Peeta's brow furrowed. "Convince who? Will they take me to Katniss if I convince them that I don't mean her any harm?"

Haymitch grinned. "If he thinks that you intend to hurt the girl, they'll be taking you back to your father in pieces, son. Just make sure that you tell him who you are straight away. It might just get you back home alive." Haymitch chuckled and took a sip out of the half empty bottle he had commandeered. "Then again, it might also get you the biggest ass whipping that you'll ever experience. It depends on what kind of mood he's in."

"Just who are you talking about?" Peeta questioned. "Who are you taking me to see?"

The smile that bloomed on the old man's face almost convinced Peeta to call the whole thing off. His stubborn pride refused and now he was at the mercy of the sadistic old man's changing story and ridiculous sense of humor. Haymitch laughed again at the boy's disgruntled expression. "I'm taking you to see the only person who might convince that girl to give you the time of day. I hope you're convincing, boy. If you aren't then this is going to be a very short trip." He slipped back through his open front door and reminded, "Two am. Don't forget. He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Who?" Peeta blurted out once more, clearly frustrated.

"Basil Everdeen, of course." Haymitch announced with a great deal of laughter. "He'll be very interested to hear about your crush on his daughter. Bring some of those pictures that you've drawn of her as well. It might keep him from killing you." The slamming door cut off any further words that Peeta had to say. He stared helplessly at the door as the thoughts rolled incessantly through his mind. The name finally registered and Peeta felt his jaw drop. Basil Everdeen. Katniss' father. Suddenly, he wished he had listened to Seth after all. It would have been a lot less hazardous to his health.

End Part 2