February, Sixteen years ago

The warmth of the bakery was usually enough to keep the home above it comfortable even in on the coldest winter day. After fourteen hours of near constant labor, Maura Mellark had reached the limits of her endurance with both the temperature and the arduous task of having a baby. She lay amid the tangled, sweaty sheets and closed her eyes wearily. Her husband paced the downstairs hallway and listened for the slightest hint that his daughter had made her entrance into the world. Already the proud parents of two sturdy, healthy boys; his wife was convinced that this time she would be gifted with the daughter that she so desperately craved. If he were completely honest with himself, Pryce prayed for a girl. A daughter would give Maura something to focus her attention on other than the bakery. It would soften her rough edges and hopefully return her to the amiable, friendly girl that he married.

After Hyacinth had made her choice known, he had wrongly opted to find a wife as swiftly as possible. Maura Graham was the middle daughter of the local grocer. She was a pretty, soft-spoken girl whose shy glances first caught his attention and then his regard. A brief courtship of three months led to an impetuous proposal. Her acceptance seemed to shock her as much as it did him. However, both families were overjoyed at the match and so they were married with as much fanfare as District Twelve was capable of. Hyacinth attended the ceremony with his mother and wished them both very happy. Pryce had been unable to conceal the wistfulness in his eyes as he warmly clasped her hands and thanked her for coming. Maura was far from unobservant, quite the opposite in fact. She had managed a congenial smile and echoed Pryce's gratitude, but his unwitting admission had soured the hours old marriage. Pryce had done everything in his power to make his wife content but every effort came up short. And so they continued on for appearance's sake, but behind closed doors both were miserable. The only remaining hope he had was for her to get the one thing she truly wanted, a daughter of her own.

The weak cry wafted downstairs, causing Pryce to take the stairs two at a time. The door opened and out came Mrs. Connolly, the apothecary's wife, bearing a tiny wrapped bundle. The midwife was still focused on the exhausted woman, who had her face buried in her pillow sobbing quietly into its depths. Gladiola Connolly's mouth was drawn into a tight line and her brow creased worriedly as she met him in the door. She placed the tiny body into his outstretched arms and smiled at the look of wonder on his face. Looking into a pair of hazy azure eyes topped with curly tufts of blonde hair, Pryce couldn't hide his delight. He grinned as he cuddled the small form and declared, "She's beautiful. Absolutely perfect." Glady nodded in agreement but silently pulled the swaddling aside. Pryce flushed as he realized his mistake. "He's a handsome boy," Pryce amended. "They always say the third time's the charm. I'll bet he'll be the best one yet."

Glady smiled and tucked the red, wrinkled legs back into the blanket. Making sure that the baby was wrapped up securely, she gestured to the partially closed door. "She won't touch him, Pryce. She wouldn't even look at the little guy. I tried to talk some sense into her but she wouldn't have it. He will need to nurse as soon as possible. I can get you some bottles and a few cans of formula. It will be enough to tide him over. Try to make her see reason. It will be the best for both of them in the long run."

Pryce couldn't quite hide his uneasiness but nodded gratefully at the troubled woman. She patted his shoulder and left murmuring about bottles. Pryce gently rocked the newborn as he considered his options. He knocked on the bedroom door and waited until the midwife bid him to enter before easing the door open. He approached the bed and laid his free hand on his wife's quaking shoulder. "Maura," he whispered. "He's a beautiful baby. He's perfect, sweetheart. Just hold him and you'll see for yourself." He eased the baby into view and waited until her tear reddened eyes rested on the blanket wrapped infant. "Just hold him, Maura. He wants to get to know his mama. He's waited so patiently for you. You don't to disappoint him, do you?"

Her eyes gradually focused on the swaddling and she visibly recoiled, scooting hurriedly across the bed. "Keep that thing away from me," she shrieked. "That's not mine. That wasn't supposed to happen." She sank back into the blankets sobbing furiously. "It was supposed to be a girl. It should have been a girl."

Pryce pulled the wailing baby to him, rubbing the small back comfortingly. He exchanged a glance with the midwife, who sadly shook her head and gathered up the last of the towels and bandages. She gestured for him to follow her. Once outside, she eased the door closed and turned reluctantly to him. "She's in a bad way. Mrs. Connolly is getting some formula and a bottle. Feed him two ounces every couple of hours. He's healthy so he shouldn't have any problems." She smiled at the baby and rubbed a hand gently over the small head. "Don't force her. Let her have her time. She will come around eventually." With the final instructions given, the old woman shuffled out the door leaving a hopeless tangle of emotions behind her.

Hours later, Pryce sat in the old rocking chair and watched an expression of intense concentration on the small face as the baby worked at his dinner. He looked into bottomless, innocent eyes and couldn't bring himself to curse the grief laden woman upstairs. One fist curled around his father's finger, the boy regarded his father intently. Pryce smiled and rubbed the baby's hand softly with his thumb. "We'll be just fine, won't we?" he questioned. "Even if it's just you and me, buddy. You'll know you're loved whether she comes around or not." He drew in a shaky breath and patted the small back. "You are loved, Peeta. Never doubt that."

May Sixteen years ago

Basil Everdeen paced the length and breadth of the house as he waited for some news. He had pleaded with Hyacinth to call her mother after her water broke but she had stubbornly refused. He used every form of persuasion that he could think of, resorting to outright begging when the pains became consistent. She wouldn't budge. He had finally managed to persuade her to let him fetch Beatrice Mellark. The baker's mother was the only person from town that Hyacinth trusted. She was also one of the few that Basil respected. Beatrice Mellark judged by actions and not by circumstance of birth. She stood by Hyacinth when her own parents had turned their backs. He left her tucked under a blanket on their shabby couch and practically sprinted to the woman's house just off the main square. Beatrice was watching her youngest grandson when Basil pounded on the door and blurted out the situation. She had calmly gathered the baby's things and motioned for Basil to lead the way. Once they reached the house, she quietly instructed him to fetch old Sae and then spoke soothingly to the laboring girl. The infant was placed into a sturdy bassinet that stood waiting in the corner.

Five hours later, the women were still closeted in the bedroom. Beatrice came out periodically to check on the baby and reassure Basil that his wife was doing well. She mixed formula and then pressed a bottle into Basil's hands, instructing him to make sure that Peeta finished every drop. Basil eyed the small boy warily and then snuggled him into the crook of an arm as he reclined on the couch. The boy immediately latched onto the bottle and drained it, his blue eyes never leaving Basil's face. Tucking a folded cloth over one shoulder, Basil raised the boy up and gently patted the small back until he burped noisily. Basil chuckled and then shifted the baby into his lap. He bounced him gently on one leg while supporting the tiny head. The boy's bright eyes darted back and forth as if taking in every detail of the room. Basil took a shiny rattle from the bag that Beatrice had brought with her. The baby babbled happily and swatted the gleaming toy. Basil made a game of it, alternately hiding the rattle and then bringing it temptingly close to the small hands. It was immediately grasped and the boy gave a triumphant "gahh" as he tried to put the rattle in his mouth. Basil chuckled, "No you don't." He pulled it free and started the game over. Hearing soft steps and the door opening gently, Basil looked up into Beatrice's amused face.

"Is Peeta keeping you entertained?" She questioned archly. He nodded but didn't speak as his eyes were drawn to the tiny figure cradled in the woman's arms. His eyes widened, tears immediately gathering as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. She smiled at his dumbfounded expression and folded the blanket back to give him a better view. The dark cap of hair was the first thing he noticed. He laughed softly and raised one hand to gently touch small fingers peeking out from the blanket. "Is Hyacinth okay?" He asked quietly. Beatrice bobbed her head and settled the baby into his free arm; then retrieved her grandson. Basil unwound the blankets and carefully examined every inch of the mewing infant. A brief flash of blue could be seen peeking out as the baby protested the sudden rush of cool air. "She's not happy with her papa," he announced. He clumsily wrapped up the flailing legs and held her closer to his chest. Beatrice laughed and bounced Peeta, who apparently wasn't pleased at not being the center of attention and let out a wail of his own.

"She's healthy and her mama is doing well. Sae should have her cleaned up soon and then you can see her." Beatrice murmured as she bounced the tow headed boy gently. His fussing ceased as she picked up the rattle and slid it into the questing fingers. She raised a brow. "What are you going to call this little one? A pretty girl like that needs a special name."

Basil knotted his brows together thoughtfully and looked at his little girl. Hyacinth and he had discussed several possibilities. They decided on Jasper for a boy but were split on a proper name for a daughter. Hyacinth wanted to follow in her family's tradition of using floral names for girls. Basil had no issues with the practice but they were unable to agree on which one to use. He absently fingered the edge of the blanket as he considered his options. He stared into the tiny face, wishing that inspiration would strike. Sae chose that moment to tell him that she was finished if he wanted to see his wife. He made his way down the hall and quietly entered. Hyacinth smiled tiredly from the nest of pillows, her blonde hair tangled and clumped about her shoulders. He eased onto the edge of the bed and patted her hand. "She's beautiful, Cin. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Hyacinth rubbed her daughter's head and leaned against her husband's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Tired and sore but so happy. She is beautiful." She gave him a tremulous look. "I wish that my mother could see her. She's so tiny and perfect. It's hard to believe that she's here. I will miss her flailing around in the middle of the night. It felt like she was swimming."

Something about what she said caught his attention. He stared at his daughter as his wife's words ran through his head. Swimming. Water. An aquatic plant with arrow shaped leaves, a blossom with three petals and a purple center. Katniss. He breathed in sharply as the thoughts spun themselves out. He glanced at his wife and grinned, "Katniss is beautiful. Maybe once they know that she's here, they might come to see her. I'm sure Beatrice will take it upon herself to persuade them."

Hyacinth narrowed her eyes and darted a look at her husband's joyous expression. "Katniss?" she asked as she mulled over the name. "A water flower, right?" He nodded and a pleased smile stretched across her features. "I love it." They shared a brief kiss and snuggled together as they watched the baby sleep. A quiet knock interrupted the peaceful scene.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but we have to be going." Beatrice announced. " I must drop Peeta off at the bakery and head home. I'm glad that everything went so well, my dear. You must let me babysit some time. I've never had a little girl in the house. It will be quite a treat."

Basil slid off the bed and crossed the room to take her hand. "I can't thank you enough for helping her today. We're both so grateful for everything that you've done." He gulped noisily and patted her back. "You have treated me like a member of your family. You didn't have to."

Beatrice shot him a scolding look. "Of course I did, Basil. You and Hyacinth are family. I wouldn't have it any other way." She gave them both a warm smile and then turned to leave. "Remember, I want to babysit. Bring her by soon."

"Katniss," Basil blurted out. "Her name is Katniss."

"Well, that is a lovely name for a beautiful girl," Beatrice remarked. She shifted the baby in her arms until he was facing the newborn. She eased him closer and said quietly, "Peeta Mellark meet Katniss Everdeen. I hope that you two will be great friends."

Basil laughed and his gaze darted from the blue eyed boy to his dark haired daughter. "I can't help but have a bad feeling about this. In a few years, I'll have to be mighty particular about who my girl spends time with."

Beatrice chuckled along with him and a speculative smile crossed her face. "I'm sure that you will. Well, I can't say that I would be disappointed if that were to happen. They do make quite a striking couple after all." She then took her leave, taking the boy back to his father along with the news of a new arrival.

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Haymitch Abernathy toyed absently with his empty glass as he watched the boy and girl huddled together on the couch. He thought briefly about the bottle of liquor in the kitchen but every time he rose to refill his glass, they caught his attention. He wasn't a man used to the dramatics of young love. He had been forced to let go of so many things when his name was called that long ago day. That simple act had changed everything. He had seen death and felt its fetid breath on his neck. He had watched two kids draw and expel their last breaths. He had tried in vain to wash that blood from his hands but nothing could remove the stains it left on his soul. He had returned home broken and beaten. Watching as the girl he loved died, that had destroyed him. They called him Victor and celebrated his great accomplishment with abandon. He bore it all and silently cursed them for their blind acceptance of the slaughter of innocents. He watched the pair across the room and wondered if he had ever been that pure.

He heard the low groan that signaled someone walking across the porch and moved to the partially open door. There was no tell-tale footsteps, only the give and take of old wood to hint at a rapidly approaching presence. Haymitch sighed inwardly and planted himself in the entrance head off trouble before it burst into his living room. He swung the door open and stepped through it, almost colliding with the solid form of his furious best friend.

"Is she here?" Basil Everdeen snarled. He shouldered past Haymitch in an attempt to enter the house. The slightly older man pivoted with him and continued to block the way. "I asked if my daughter is here. Damn it let me through."

A sardonic smile twisted the former Victor's mouth as he leaned nonchalantly against the door frame. "Hello to you too. What brings you by, Basil? It's been too long, old buddy. We really do need to catch up." With that said Haymitch grasped the beleaguered man's arm and steered him toward the porch swing. Basil attempted to twist free but was instead deposited on the swing and forced to fume silently as he glared at his former cohort. "Want a drink?" Haymitch asked pleasantly. "I have water and tea. I would offer you a real drink but my supply is running low." He examined the empty glass in his hand and spoke thoughtfully. "Maybe I should learn to make my own. It would save me a lot of trouble in the long run."

"It would only help you kill yourself that much sooner," Basil returned sourly. "Your liver wouldn't last a week and you know it." He exhaled slowly and rubbed his hand though his hair. "Is she here, Haymitch? Just answer me that." Haymitch smirked maddeningly and nodded once. Basil drew a relieved breath and glanced toward the door. "Can I see her? We need to get back home."

Haymitch shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not possible right now. We have things to discuss. I warned you that something like this would happen. Well, the cat is out of the bag and now we have to figure out what to do next." He paused and eyed the man warily. "This might be for the best. Things have gone on too long. It's time to end it, Basil. If we play this right then we just might finally be able to be done with it all."

Basil's confusion was evident as he regarded the other man through narrowed eyes. "What the hell are you talking about? One thing has nothing to do with the other. This is about a girl who has no damned clue what she's getting herself into. Once I get her home, I guarantee that she will never pull this stunt again. She has a crush. That's all well and good but she's going to have to let it go."

Haymitch snorted. "That's rich coming from you. She'll have to let it go. You're kidding yourself if you think it will be that easy." He waved a hand between them. "Did you let it go? Did you walk away when everyone told you that Seam and Merchant don't mix? Hell no you didn't. You and Cin fought tooth and nail to stay together. Do you honestly expect your girl to walk away just because you tell her to? That's the funniest damned thing I've heard all day." He gestured toward the doorway. "Whether or not this is a good idea doesn't mean much now. It's done and you're going to have to deal with it. Go over there and see for yourself. Just look at them."

Basil shot his friend an exasperated look and climbed to his feet. "Just go to the door," Haymitch admonished. Basil rolled his eyes but padded silently to the door and peeked inside. The two were sitting side by side on the couch with their heads almost touching as they looked at something in the boy's lap. Katniss was smiling, her hands making the wide elaborate gestures that she was prone to when excited. Her voice rose and her movements became even more complex as she reached the highpoint of her story. The boy's laughter briefly drowned out his daughter's voice and Basil was startled to hear her join in. She grinned widely and hopped to her feet, pantomiming drawing back a bow. When she rubbed her left arm just below the elbow, Basil chuckled as he recalled her fluent cursing after the string had rebounded, leaving behind a spectacular bruise. She pulled up her sleeve and let the boy examine her arm. His fingers delicately traced over the vivid mark and he then pressed a brief kiss to the affected area. Basil felt his stomach knot at the sight of his daughter smiling softly as she pressed her fingers to the boy's face. The man was torn between the desire to protect his eldest and the need to let her grow up and experience life to the fullest. Troubled, he eased back from the door and returned to the swing. Haymitch watched in sympathetic silence.

"What can I do? Even after all these years, Snow still has supporters in the Capital and elsewhere. They wouldn't hesitate to hurt my girl. If they found out that she is here, nothing would keep them from her. They never accepted my death, Haymitch. They have been waiting for just the right opportunity. It won't return them to power but it will avenge their fall. That's all they want."

Haymitch nodded soberly, "I can't tell you that you're wrong. They will come at the slightest hint of your blood in the water. You have two choices as I see it. One, you can drag the girl back home and make her and yourself miserable. She will disobey you and continue to see the boy. He actually told her to go home and stay there when he found out that she might not be safe. She argued with him. If you put it to him the right way, he will side with you if only to keep her safe. She'll hate you for it but it's something to consider. The only other choice that I see is to move openly. Let them be. Don't try to hide her. Tell them both exactly what they might be facing and let them decide if it's worth the risk." Haymitch paused and raised the glass to his lips. He grunted when he realized that he hadn't made it to the kitchen for a refill yet.

Basil turned it over in his mind and didn't like where his conclusions led him. "You want to use her as bait. You want to pull them in. It's too risky, Haymitch. I won't let her be hurt." His head swung from side to side as the idea took hold. "She wouldn't be safe here and I can't leave Cin and Prim alone in the woods. Find another way. You don't know what it's like to have everything you love threatened. You don't understand."

Haymitch rounded on the distraught man. "You have to be fucking kidding me. You honestly think that I don't know what it's like to have everything you love be taken away in an instant. You can't be serious." He grabbed Basil's collar. "I watched my girl bleed out in front of me knowing that I couldn't help her. I watched her gasp and choke as I held her neck together with my bare hands. I was covered in her blood by the time she died. My hands were soaked in it." His voice shook and his grasp tightened. "My mother and eight year old brother were slaughtered like animals because I told that bastard to fuck off. I found them when I got home. I told you to leave and never come back because I knew he wouldn't hesitate to do it again. I didn't want to see you die, Basil. I didn't want to face Cin with your blood on my hands. Maysilee was enough. I know that she still blames me for her not coming home. Don't you ever tell me that I don't know what it's like. I could write a damned book."

Basil's hands shook as he backed away. "I'm sorry. I know what they did. I didn't think. I'm sorry, Haymitch." He sank back into the swing and dropped his head into his hands. "You must have some sort of plan. Let's hear it."

"You've heard most of it. We get the word out that she's here. We put in a discreet call to Plutarch Heavensbee and try to get Beetee sent here to deal with the boy's tracker. We get a few members of Boggs' squad assigned here. Last I heard he was still the commander of the counterinsurgency forces. He will be able to assign a low key person to stay with Katniss at all times. There should be three squads: one to stay with the girl, another stationed around your house to protect Cin and Prim, and one more to keep an eye out for trouble. We'll have to tell the boy too. If he bails, then you can kill him and take the girl back to the woods. It's risky but anything worthwhile usually is. It's your decision, Basil. Just let me know what you decide."

Basil shook his head sadly, "It's not just my decision. She should be told." He dropped his head again. "What kind of man even considers putting his sixteen year old daughter into a mess like this? I'm just as bad as the bastards we're trying to catch."

Haymitch patted his friend on the back. "No, you're not. If you hadn't stepped up, she would face a Reaping every year. At least she has a chance at something better. That's more than May or Bran had. Your girl will never be in the Games, Basil. She has you to thank for that. You've done nothing wrong." He stood up and shuffled toward the door. "You can talk to her and the boy. Try to keep the explanation simple. We don't want to confuse them. I'll go make my calls and see if we can get the ball rolling." He swung the screen door open and then paused, a mischievous light in his eyes. "Peeta Mellark is a good boy. Try not to rough him up too badly."

Basil laughed quietly, nodded, and Haymitch let the door slam shut behind him. He looked out at the verdant greenery of the mountains. It had been a refuge for over half of his daughter's life. If he chose to follow Haymitch's plan, there would be nowhere to hide. This would be the endgame with Katniss an unsuspecting pawn in the middle. He silently prayed that Hyacinth would forgive him for even considering this. He took one last deep breath and then made his way to the door. Silence greeted him as he stepped inside.

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Katniss pulled away from the tight embrace and stepped out of his encircling arms. She led him to the couch and once seated asked quietly, "I have to know that you're being honest with me, Peeta. What do you want from me?" Her gray eyes were steady on his face and her even tone pointed to the seriousness of her question.

He smiled at her bluntness. She didn't mince words nor hide behind false pretenses. She shot from the hip and expected the same in return. He met her gaze squarely and replied, "I want to be with you, Katniss. I've been looking for you since I was five years old."

She smiled slightly but her gaze remained locked on his face. "It's a beautiful idea. I can't deny that seeing you at the lake and finding out that you're the boy in my picture seems too good to be true. You were the only friend I had for so long. Even after Prim was born, I still kept you with me. Now that we're here, I can't imagine not being with you. I need to know that you feel the same, Peeta. Is this what you want?"

He clasped her hands between both of his and met her eyes unflinchingly. "Let me show you something." He grabbed his shoulder bag and carefully pulled out the wrapped canvas. He handed it to her and gestured for her to open it, then retrieved another object from the bag. She gasped as the paper fell away revealing a wobbly likeness of her and her mother. It was the exact pose that she had seen in his book at the lake. The watercolor portrait was yellowed slightly with age and not as impressive as the pencil drawing. Still, there was something about the painting that drew her in. He handed her the picture that he kept with him always. "I painted that when I was nine," he confided softly. "My art teacher gave me some left over supplies. I was so excited that I raced straight home. That picture took me most of the night. I was so happy when I finished because I had never painted on an actual canvas before. I know that it's not very good but it's my favorite." He traced a finger along the edge of the canvas, bumping her hand along the way. "I brought that for your father. I wanted him to see that I meant it when I said that I've loved you my whole life, Katniss. This is what I've always wanted."

She smiled and dropped her gaze to the painting. "My dad will love this but you don't have to give it away. It means too much to you, Peeta."

"You are more important than a painting, Katniss." Peeta's heart was in his eyes as they swept over her, "I can't believe this is real. The girl of my dreams is standing right in front of me."

She smiled as she moved closer, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. "I'm no dream come true, Peeta. Far from it. But I'm here and I'm real. For as long as you want me, I'm here."

Warmth filled him up and overflowed until he was sure nothing ever could or would feel better than this moment. He smiled and then whispered softly, "It's forever then. I won't settle for anything less."

They sat together, talking quietly as they shared the insignificant details of their lives. She laughed until tears flowed down her face as he described Seth's unfortunate attempts to sneak in past curfew. He stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the massive bruise that marked the tender skin of her inner arm. Who knew that a bow could leave such a spot? Her eyes watched him warmly as he planted a tiny kiss just beyond the welt. She pressed her fingers to his cheek and he leaned into her touch, his gaze never straying from her face. She asked hesitantly to see his sketches and he complied though his stomach tied itself into knots. She flipped silently through the book, her fingers carefully tracing the precisely placed lines. His eyes flicked from the drawings to her face. He was startled at how closely they resembled her. She glanced up and whispered softly, "It's like you could always see me even though we were apart. You just knew."

Peeta smiled and playfully tugged on her braid. "I was a goner the first time I ever laid eyes on you. I couldn't help myself then and certainly not now." He hesitated and then continued, "I only wish that I could hear you sing. I have to know if the birds really do stop to listen." She blushed furiously and slapped his hand. He chuckled, watching as she continued to slowly turn the pages. The slamming door pulled his head around and he gulped as Basil Everdeen stepped inside.

"I need to talk to you both," he stated mildly. "Let's all agree to be honest with each other. Okay?" The two exchanged nervous glances and then nodded jerkily. Basil sighed. "I'll go get Haymitch and then we'll get started." He shot Peeta a stern look and made his way deeper into the house.

Peeta slumped back against the couch and flinched when Katniss rested her head on his shoulder. "I don't think he likes me," he remarked jokingly. As humor went, it was a weak attempt.

Katniss shrugged and replied, "I think he does. He hasn't killed you yet."

Peeta sat up abruptly and gave her a horrified look, "You are kidding, aren't you?" Her tentative smile did nothing to ease the panic that surged up at her flippant remark. He groaned and dropped his face into his hands. What had he gotten himself into?

End Part 5