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Chapter Text

It began with burned bread and kindness.

---

The Capitol surveillance room was confounding in its juxtaposition. Images of crimes yet to be committed filled the screen that ran along the length of the room - scenes of chaos and pain - while specially trained Peacekeepers sat coolly in high-backed chairs, detached as they watched the screens and occasionally spoke into their headsets.

Their methods weren't fool-proof. After decades of using the software created in District Three - called Watcher, jokingly, by the Peacekeepers who used it - they'd discovered it had about a 75% success rate. Some crimes slipped through, either from software error or user error. Some they deliberately chose not to prevent, particularly if another Peacekeeper was the guilty party - a Peacekeeper stealing food or causing a few casualties was often overlooked.

Some of the crimes were prosecuted and then found to have been predicted incorrectly, but it was usually too late for all parties involved to do anything about it. The typical punishment for being "guilty" of a crime was removal - not even the Peacekeepers running the software knew what removal meant, whether death or being sentenced as an Avox or being held for torture.

Watcher was known throughout the Capitol as an effective crime-prevention tool. In the Districts, it was another tool of oppression.

That day, Peacekeeper Jace sat in front of his portion of the large screen. He was from District Twelve originally, taken from the community home into Peacekeeper training due to his build and propensity for getting into fights. The olive skin and dark hair seemed to be all he retained of his childhood in Twelve - he felt Capitol through and through now, after so many years of service.

He scanned through a few crimes that were anticipated to be committed in the coming months - murder of a Peacekeeper in District Eleven was reported quickly; stolen food in District Eight was reported as a lower-priority issue; and he had to tinker with his controls to make sure that an anticipated arson in District Seven was accurate. And then it happened.

A video of two teenagers - the male blond and fair, the female with a dark braid and olive skin - popped onto his screen. The first image showed, as it always did with Watcher, their current state - he was standing in the rain, throwing out what looked to be bread, and while she huddled under a tree. Odd, but nothing too notable. Peacekeeper Jace's screen sped forward several years as Watcher's algorithm calculated their anticipated crime. They were bloodied and exhausted, and they each held a handful of berries. The clip took on a bright red hue as a high-pitched alarm beeped in his headset. The words "IMMINENT THREAT" flashed over their faces, followed by the one crime he'd never personally seen picked up by Watcher: "REVOLUTION".

--

One month later

President Snow had summoned his advisers immediately after getting the notification from Head Peacekeeper Thrall about what the other Peacekeeper - Jace, was it? - had seen on the crime prevention software. The lesser Peacekeeper had been summarily sent to be processed as an Avox, of course, as had the others on duty during his shift. Seeing the faces of the people who could bring revolution to Panem had made all of them a threat. Really, when he thought what an inconvenience these two District 12 children had already created, he was quite angry.

President Snow knew he could only let a handful of people participate in his strategy to remove this threat: Peacekeepers he had complete control over because they knew what he could do to their illegitimate children. They had been fools to ever get involved with District citizens, but Snow was pleased he found a way to use it to his own advantage.

As President Snow entered the room, Peacekeepers Thrall, Shad, and Tenley stood. Here were his most trusted - and most controlled - Peacekeepers.

"Please, at ease", said the President, gesturing to the seats. "I will get straight to the point. While Watcher has picked up on revolutionary activities before, those incidents were confined to one district or minor enough that they wouldn't result in a full-scale war. We now have a scenario that is quite different. First, Watcher has predicted a crime of revolution of total revolution at 99.9% probability - the highest probability the software is able to offer. Second, it involves Panem citizens who are not yet of reaping age. As my most trusted Peacekeepers, I've brought you here to inform you that your mission is to execute one of these would-be revolutionaries." He paused to gauge the reaction of each of the Peacekeepers. Neutral faces all around, good. While even President Snow would admit that eleven was quite young, it was worth it for the stability of Panem.

"You may wonder if this reaction is too extreme or heavy-handed", continued the President.

"Not at all, Sir," replied Peacekeeper Thrall.

"Good," said Snow. "After speaking with my most trusted advisors and exploring multiple options and scenarios through Watcher, this form of removal is the surest course to guarantee the safety of Panem. May I remind you what you swore when you became Peacekeepers?"

"To protect and preserve Panem at any cost, even our own lives," intoned all three Peacekeepers, reciting the Peacekeeper oath.

Oath my ass, thought Thrall, he knows he has each of us by the balls. And don't worry Watcher, I'm not going to do anything stupid. Thrall often found himself reassuring Watcher that he wasn't going to do anything stupid, despite the fact that he knew it couldn't hear him or read minds (at least, he was mostly sure of that). Just in case it might make a difference. He was under enough pressure from Snow and didn't want any trouble with the software.

"Both of our troublemakers are in District 12, and it appears they could have been quite the item if one of them didn't have to meet such an untimely end. You will depart for District 12 immediately and will arrive at 5:00 am local time. You have the choice of which one to kill. Ensure you follow removal protocol to make it look like an accident. You will be in charge of monitoring whichever one you don't kill closely for your remaining years as Peacekeepers."

The Peacekeepers looked at each other uneasily. "Sir?" said Peacekeeper Thrall, unsure of the President's intent. They were to decide which one to kill?

"Fine," sighed President Snow. "I was rather hoping to not spend one more minute on this issue. No matter which way we calculated it, Watcher showed us quite clearly that it doesn't matter which one of them is disposed of - either way the threat is neutralized. Apparently they're quite useless, one without the other. I thought I'd give you the choice of whether you'd rather follow the boy or girl around for the rest of your days, but since it's all the same to you..." President Snow took a coin. "Heads for the girl, tails for the boy."

He flipped it and, glancing cursorily at it, said, "Goodbye, Mr. Mellark. You have your target, gentlemen. Dismissed."

Chapter Text

District 12, 5:00 am

Peeta put the last of the rhubarb muffins into the oven and wiped his apron across his face. It was unseasonably warm for a spring morning, and the roaring heat from the ovens didn't help. He hung his apron on the wall and scrambled up the stairs to get ready for school. Peeta couldn't think about much besides seeing Katniss - well, staring at Katniss from across classrooms and the recess area - and making sure it still seemed as if she and Prim were improving.

He couldn't believe it when he'd seen her under their apple tree weeks ago - too, too thin and with such hopelessness in her eyes. He didn't think twice about burning the bread or the punishment he'd be sure to receive from his mother, once he realized how desperate Katinss truly was. Peeta had been worried about her and Prim for weeks, but with how carefully his mother monitored the days old bakery items their own family relied on he couldn't come up with a plan to sneak any to the Everdeen sisters.

He played the moments over and over in his head - burning the bread that was full of expensive nuts and fruit, the smack from his mother, looking at Katniss as he threw down the burned loaves, watching her hurry them away to home. He'd caught her eye again the next day at school and watched as she picked up a dandelion, a smile growing on her face that he hadn't seen, really, since her father had died.

Peeta wished he could make her smile everyday, because even at eleven years of age Katniss Everdeen was the only girl for him. If only I could actually talk to her, he thought. Too bad he clammed up every time he saw her. He could make any other girl laugh with ease, but every time he saw scowling, beautiful Katniss Everdeen he didn't know which way was up. He sighed as he ran up to his room, taking the stairs two at a time.

Maybe it was because his mind was on Katniss that he didn't notice as he entered his room that his mother was standing there with two Peacekeepers.

"Peeta," his mother said, the anger evident in her voice. Peeta looked from her to two Peacekeepers, frozen in place.

"I didn't do anything, I swear mom!" started Peeta.

"You're being removed, Peeta. I can't begin to tell you the shame you've brought to our family, not to mention the danger." Without another word his mother walked out of the room.

"Mom! Wait!" Peeta called, completely bewildered and mind racing. This had to be a mistake. Where were his dad and brothers? What crime could he possibly be associated with that resulted in being removed?

One of the Peacekeepers stepped forward, proffering hand restraints. "Will you come willingly, or do you want to make this difficult?" asked the Peacekeeper.

Peeta held out his hands, unable to keep them from shaking. Every child in Panem knew about removal, even though they didn't know quite what it meant. His parents were always threatening it when the brothers were especially difficult - quit that fighting now or so help me I'll call the President myself and have you removed! - and fellow classmates sometimes joked about it if a student missed a day of school unexpectedly. But no one, to Peeta's knowledge, had actually been removed from District 12.

The Peacekeepers led him out the back door of the bakery, past the apple tree where just a week ago he'd seen Katniss, and behind a dilapidated building close to the edge of the Seam. No one was out yet in District 12 - no one to wonder why eleven year old Peeta Mellark was being led away by two heavily armed Peacekeepers, and no one to see as the Peacekeepers thrust him into a black car that immediately sped away.

Chapter Text

District 12

The whispers and rumors began in earnest around lunchtime at school. Katniss had noticed Peeta missing from their shared classes and recess, because ever since the day with the bread she'd been keeping her eyes on Peeta. The boy with the bread, she decided to call him. They'd never actually spoken, which wasn't surprising since he was Merchant. Occasionally she'd see his eyes flit away from her just as she looked over to him, and she wondered what he was looking for. She hated that she owed him and she was in awe of the fact that Peeta would stand up to his mother (who everyone in the District knew was the meanest, harshest parent around) just to help her.

He had no idea, what he'd really done - she had been ready to give up that evening, let the Peackeepers take her and Prim to the Community Home and cart her mother off to who knows where. She'd been so hungry that day that she couldn't even think straight, otherwise she'd never have let mean old Mrs. Mellark catch her rooting through the trash. Peeta had not only given her and Prim and mother enough bread to survive a few more days, he'd given her hope. Hope that she and her family could survive, using the hunting and foraging legacy of her father.

Katniss thought again of Peeta's blue eyes on her in the rain and a funny shiver worked its way up her spine. There's nothing for it, she thought resolutely, I'm going to have to thank him. Maybe bring him some dandelions...but I'm sure a baker's son has no need for eating dandelions. I'm going owe him forever.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Madge, the Mayor's daughter. Katinss liked how Madge was quiet and not like the other Merchants- she never thought Madge was looking down on her tattered clothes or meager (sometimes non-existent) lunch.

"Did you hear, Katniss? What people are saying about Peeta Mellark?" said Madge, gently. She'd always noticed how Peeta watched Katinss - really, she was surprised Katniss hadn't caught on by now. They were nearly reaping age, after all, and Peeta had been watching her for years.

Katniss's eyebrows shot up. Oh no, she thought, what did his witch of a mother do this time? She was already starting to get angry when Madge began to fill her in on their classmate's murmurs.

"None of the Mellark boys are in school today," said Madge. "Richie Glasgow heard from Addlyn Bright - you know, the tailor's daughter who's going out with the oldest Mellark - anyway, he heard that Peeta went, um, missing this morning." Madge eyed her friend warily, because she'd noticed Katniss returning Peeta's stares in the last month. She didn't know what had happened between them but clearly they shared some kind of connection.

Katniss drew in her breath sharply. "Missing?" Her mind began to race. "Are you sure it isn't just a cover? Maybe his awful mother hurt him again and he can't come to school."

"Katniss, shhh, someone will hear you," said Madge, looking around.

"What? Everyone knows how mean Mrs. Mellark is. No one goes missing in District 12, come on. I bet you Peeta's back in a couple days and we find out this 'missing' story is just one big lie."

"I hope you're right, Katniss," replied Madge, going back to her meal.

Katniss and Madge were silent the rest of lunch, which was typical for the two. Talking with Madge had given her an idea, and Katinss spent the rest of the meal formulating a plan for how she could pay Peeta back for the bread. Her mother had loads of old books that detailed salves and rubs that would heal injuries - burns, cuts, anything. Now that Katniss was going into the woods almost daily - really, thanks to Peeta - she could use those books and her father's plant book to find some herbs that would help Peeta. I'm probably useless at making a salve, she thought, but I can at least try. Healing ointment and dandelions, that's what she'd give him when he came back. If she could make enough ointment maybe she could even sell some at the Hob.

The next day brought the news. Her science teacher, Ms. Beltry, stopped class to tell everyone. Young Peeta Mellark's body, what was left of it anyway, had been found beyond the district fence. Word was that he decided to venture out there early in the morning and a wild beast had gotten him. "It's a sad lesson on why you must stay inside the fence", Ms. Beltry said.

Katniss didn't hear the rest of her teacher's words. She felt like the world slowed to stop as she tried to process this information. The boy with the bread, who had helped her and her family when literally no one else would, dead? She spent the rest of class with her eyes straight ahead and mind racing. She'd been in the same woods that morning, gathering dandelions and healing herbs and dinner for tonight. How close had she been to where he died? She would never get to thank him. Never get to try to repay him. Never get to tell him what he'd done for her, for her mother and Prim too. She felt broken in a way that she hadn't been since her father had died.

Katniss made it through the rest of the day, hearing snippets from classmates and Peeta's friends who knew him better - who had much more of a right to mourn him. No one would have ever expected Katniss and Peeta to be connected, and she couldn't very well start telling people about what Peeta had done for her. No, that was between the two of them, and she would cherish it for the rest of her life. After school she listened to Prim talk about what had happened to Peeta. Katniss was trying to prevent seven year old Prim from growing up to fast, but Prim had heard all the details about his death thanks to her classmates.

"I'm so sorry Katniss," said Prim, giving her sister a hug.

"Why?" Katniss asked, confused. Had Prim guessed where the bread came from last week?

"He was your classmate, it must be awful that he's gone now," said Prim.

You've no idea, Little Duck, thought Katniss. "I'm okay Prim. And don't you start worrying about me going into the forest - thanks to Daddy's lessons I know how to avoid any wild beasts." If only I could have taught Peeta about that before he wandered in. Why on earth would he go to the forest, anyway? Katniss forced herself to stop thinking about it as they reached home. She made a simple dinner for her family - some wild spring onions she'd dug up and eggs she'd swiped from some little bird's nest in the forest. She didn't let herself cry until she was sure Prim was asleep next to her, then she hugged her pillow tightly to her face as her body was wracked with silent sobs.

Chapter Text

District 13

Peeta felt heavy as he blinked his eyes open. Wherever he was, it was too bright. He couldn't move his arms or legs, and he felt like several heavy blankets were piled on him.

"Ah, Peeta, glad to see you are awake," said a calm, deep voice. Peeta attempted to turn his head to find who was speaking.

"Sorry, right over here," said the voice again. A man came into view, towering over Peeta. "I'm Dr. Pax, a physician here in the hospital. You've been out for a couple days and there's a great deal to catch you up on. "

"Where am I?" asked Peeta, his voice cracking after hours without use.

"What is the last thing you remember?" asked Dr. Pax, taking a seat by Peeta's bed.

Peeta closed his eyes, trying to focus. It took so much effort to speak. "I, um, I don't know. I feel so out of it," he said.

"That's just a side effect of the medicine we gave you. We had to keep you sedated to make it look right. Very common, most people feel disoriented at first. Can you try again? What's the last thing you remember?"

"I, um, I was in a car. There were Peacekeepers..." Peeta trailed off as his memory sparked. "There were Peacekeepers in my house. My mom said I was being removed." He felt panicked, suddenly. "Is this where they remove people? Please, I swear, I didn't do anything. I think there's been a mistake. Not that the Capitol would make a mistake, I mean, I just know - I wouldn't do anything bad."

Dr. Pax held up his hand to stop Peeta and tried to smile encouragingly. "Peeta, you don't have anything to worry about. How about we try this another way. You're safe. We are in District 13. I know you've always learned that the district was destroyed in the war, but it wasn't. People here found out that you were being removed and intervened to stop it. We rescued you and brought you here."

"Why would you rescue me?" Peeta asked.

"District 13 didn't think it was right that a boy be put through the removal process at such a young age. It took immense planning but we were able to make it look as if you died in the woods - that was the Capitol's plan all along, to kill you and leave you in the woods, then concoct a story about something out there killing you. Our team was successful in making the Capitol think they carried out their mission and in bringing you safely here."

Peeta tried to focus as the man spoke, but he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. It was as if he were watching a show on the screen back home, but parts kept skipping ahead. Home, he thought. My family. Katniss. Delly.

"Does everyone think I'm dead?" he asked suddenly.

Dr. Pax looked serious. "I'm afraid so, Peeta. It was the only way to keep you and your loved ones safe. The Capitol doesn't know District 13 still exists, and your loved ones would be in terrible danger if they were caught up in any part of this."

Peeta just stared blankly at him. It was too much, he had too many questions. He asked the first one that came to him. "Are you going to punish me, too? The Capitol only removes people that are really bad. Will I be in trouble here, too?"

"No, Peeta," replied Dr. Pax kindly. "You're safe here. The Capitol's removal program doesn't punish bad people - they use it to get rid of anyone that is a threat to their absolute control." Dr. Pax paused, realizing he had already revealed too much to the boy. He tried to redirect. "You can even keep up with what's going on back in District 12, if you'd like. And our President, President Coin, would like to welcome you herself in a few hours."

"President Coin? District 13 has its own President?" Peeta began to think through what he'd learned about 13 in school, his mind feeling clearer and clearer every minute. Graphite mining? He knew they had learned that District 13 was a main instigator of the war.

"I know you'll have many questions - there is an orientation process you'll go through that will explain everything. For now, rest. Someone will come by in a few hours to escort you to meet our leadership."

Dr. Pax pressed a button on a machine close to Peeta, and Peeta instantly felt his body and mind relax as he drifted off to sleep.

---

A few hours later, Peeta was dressed and sitting upright on his hospital bed. The clothes left for him were terribly grey - grey pants, grey shirt, grey socks.

A soldier entered the room. "Hello, Peeta. Welcome to District 13. I'm Soldier Rigsby, and I'm here to escort you to headquarters."

Peeta gulped. He'd hadn't talked to people in the military before, except for the Peacekeepers that had appeared in his room a couple days ago. Was that only a few days ago? he thought. It feels like forever.

Peeta stood, unsure of whether to shake hands - did people in District 13 do that? "Thank you," he managed to say quietly, and then followed Rigsby out of the room.

They walked down numerous hallways that all looked the same - grey, industrial, cold. Peeta noticed they were labeled with different letters and numbers, and he assumed this would mean something to him someday.

Solider Rigsby stopped them outside a pair of sleek metal doors, entered a code on a console, and then placed his hand on the console to be scanned. "To get in here, you have to have special clearance," explained Rigsby when he saw Peeta looking at him curiously.

The doors slid open to reveal a room bustling with activity. Monitors were everywhere, and several very important looking people sat huddled together at the large (grey) table in the center of the room. Soldier Rigsby went up to a severe looking woman, saluted, and waited for her to acknowledge him.

President Coin stood up and put on a smile as she made her way over to Peeta. "Welcome, Peeta. I know this all must be overwhelming for you. I'm President Coin and we're very glad to have you safely here in District 13."

Peeta gulped. He felt very small and young - he'd never seen such technology before, and wasn't sure how to talk to a President. He had hundreds of questions but knew it wouldn't do to ask President Coin. "Thank you for saving me, President Coin," he replied.

Coin smiled. "It's our pleasure, Peeta. I'm sorry you had to go through such an ordeal. You must miss your family terribly. I hope you will adjust to being here."

Peeta nodded tightly. He did miss his family terribly.

"We have something that will hopefully ease the transition for you," continued Coin. "As part of our efforts to keep district citizens like yourself safe from the Capitol removal program, we have monitoring feeds set up in each district. Beetee here", she gestured to a short man wearing glasses, "has been able to ensure you can see your family."

"I can see them?"

Coin tilted her head slightly, and the technician at the screen nearest to them made some adjustments on his console. Peeta gasped as the inside of bakery came into view.

"How..." Peeta began, but was interrupted by an enthusiastic Beetee.

"We use the televisions in each residence as reconnaissance devices. It's a simple matter of hacking the feed, then-"

"Thank you, Beetee," interrupted President Coin. "I'm sure Peeta doesn't need to know the ins and outs of our software."

Peeta missed this exchange as he studied his family. His father looked as if he'd aged years overnight. His brother Rye was not around, but Bannock sat by his father at the table and stared out the window. They both looked as if they'd been crying. Peeta's mother burst in, yelling at them to stop wasting time. One thing hasn't changed, mused Peeta. Out loud he said, "Can I talk to them? Let them know I'm OK?"

"Impossible," said Coin. "You aren't aware of the great lengths went to in order to get you here, or the danger your family and friends would be in if the Capitol had an inkling that you were alive. No one outside this district knows. And it must stay that way." She smiled again. "Come now, you must have many questions about our district. It's your new home, after all. Soldier Rigsby will escort you to orientation. We'll be checking in on you, Peeta. I know you'll be just fine here."

Without waiting for Peeta to respond, she turned back to Beetee and resumed their previous conversation. Beetee gave Peeta a small wave as he left.

"So that's the famous Mr. Mellark," commented Coin after they'd left. "I do hope he's worth it."

Any child should be worth it, Beetee thought to himself. "Madam President, from the data we have it's clear that he greatly improves our chances for a successful revolt. We need him."

Coin nodded. "It's a shame he's so young, otherwise we could set things in motion much sooner."

---

Orientation had matched the rest of the day - overwhelming. Peeta learned that he could look forward to a strict schedule each day - stamped on his arm, no less - and would be attending the district school. He learned that there was enough food for everyone, but only just enough - and that 13 could sure use some help with their bread.

Everything was dull and impersonal and grey, thanks to the need to conserve resources and the district being located underground. Peeta already desperately missed 12. The warmth of the bakery, his dad and brothers, wrestling team with his friends at school, watching sunset from the Meadow on warm summer nights, the color of Katniss' eyes. They're much more silver then grey, he'd decided, after spending the whole day surrounded by the grey of District 13.

Rigsby - Soldier Rigsby, Peeta had to keep reminding himself - had been his guide for the day. Peeta learned that Rigsby was only 16, not terribly older than Peeta. That was another odd thing about 13, teenagers were considered soldiers and trained in addition to attending school.

"Here we are, Peeta", said Rigsby, stopping outside some nondescript doors with the number 74 outside. "Your room. You're in a hallway with a bunch of other kids from school and their families."

Peeta had been assigned his own quarters. He had been surprised to learned that day was that he had special access to the feed from 12- meaning that he could watch his family and friends everyday if he wanted. He wasn't sure how he felt about living alone. Or about watching his family and friends as they went about their days. It felt...invasive.

"Thanks for showing me around today, Rigsby. District 13 is...it's a good place."

Rigsby smiled. "It's home. I'm glad I got to show you around. See you tomorrow in school?"

"See you", said Peeta.

Peeta walked through the doors and took in the room. Small bed, bathroom with a shower, a closet and compact dresser. Everything in the standard District 13 grey. I can't imagine not sharing a room or bathroom, Peeta thought forlornly. There had been days he would have been thrilled to have Rye out of his space and be able to have his own room - but now, he just felt empty.

Peeta sat on the bed and closed his eyes. He tried to paint a picture of home in his mind - were they even in the same time zone anymore? It would be night there too, at least, and his father would be prepping ingredients for the morning's baking. His mother would be in the office, balancing the sales for the day. Bannock was probably with Addlyn, his soon-to-be fiancee, and Rye had probably cut out of the bakery early under the pretense of going to a friend's house to do homework. Everyone knows you're going to the slag heap, Rye, Peeta thought with a smile. His smile quickly fell - he missed them so much, it actually hurt.

Peeta got up and walked around the small room, feeling fidgety. Things felt off. Of course it was unbelievable that he was here, unbelievable that he'd been removed by the Capitol, unbelievable that District 13 actually existed. But it was more than that. It felt like people here weren't telling him the whole story. Peeta excelled at reading moods and mannerisms of others, due to years of practice trying to avoid angering his mother. No one here wanted to explain why the Capitol tried to remove him or how many other people District 13 had saved from being removed or why there wasn't anyone he could stay with instead of living by himself. He'd tried asking those questions at orientation, after Kathryn - the orientation leader - had said, "You can ask me anything you'd like, Peeta, I'm here to be of help." She shut down pretty quickly once I asked those questions, thought Peeta. Maybe they're just waiting for me to adjust a little more before they tell me everything.

He found a remote on the dresser and turned on the screen across from his bed. It brought his family into view on the screen - and he watched them for some time, as homesickness won out over feeling like he was intruding. I'm so sorry, he thought silently. I don't know how any of this happened. I'm glad you're safe, at least. Peeta watched them from his bed, somewhat comforted as he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

District 12's burial area was off from the Meadow, a short walk down a dirt path that was enclosed by maple trees. Mostly merchants were buried there, as families from the Seam had little enough to eat much less pay for a plot and gravestone.

Peeta Mellark's service had drawn most of the Merchant side of town. Katniss had hovered unseen at the edges of the crowd during his funeral, angry and sad that she had no right, in the eyes of the district, to mourn him. Still in shock that he was gone. Katniss remembered seeing the tear stained faces of her classmates and Peeta's family - even Mrs. Mellark had managed to shed some tears for her third son that she'd so mistreated.

Katniss visited his grave herself early one morning on her way to the woods, a few days after Peeta's funeral. Her days at school had been restless as she constantly saw the absence of Peeta, and her nights were often haunted by varying nightmares of Peeta in the forest - watching him slip under the fence and being powerless to warn him, sitting up in a tree as he was attacked by a mutt, picking berries and coming across his body. She'd had nightmares ever since her father had died in the mine explosion, and the recent ones of Peeta shook her nearly as much as the ones of her father.

She picked a fistful of dandelions from the Meadow on her way to graveyard, guessing that all the flowers from his funeral would be wilted by now.

Katniss placed the flowers by his grave and stood awkwardly for a moment. She wasn't sure what to do next, only that coming here had felt right when she woke up that morning. Katniss hoped it would just make whatever she'd been feeling go away.

She sat in the dirt by Peeta's grave, thinking how unfair it was that kind, good people kept getting taken away. First her father in the mine. And now Peeta in the forest. Her forest, that fed and sustained her family. She felt betrayed, and alone. Something opened up inside her, something that had been growing since the bread and tamped down since Peeta's death.

"I'll never get to tell you this in person, and I'm real sorry about that. I waited too long to say thank you. I'll never stop owing you for the bread, Peeta. You saved me and Prim and mom. I go into the woods now, and it's because of you. You reminded me of all the ways my dad used to feed our family." She paused, pushing back tears as she thought of her father. "That's why I brought you dandelions, even though I know they'd just be weeds to you. The day after the bread, at school, I was watching you and trying to figure out why you did it. How to say thank you. And when I looked down I saw a dandelion, that's when I knew I could find food for my family like my dad used to. I could do it. You did that, you gave me hope." Katniss took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that were flowing freely now. "So thank you. Thank you for the bread and for giving me hope and for helping me when nobody else would. You were a good person."

Eleven year old Katniss walked away from his grave that day, feeling exhausted but finished. At least she had acknowledged what Peeta had done. Even if it was only to his grave. She'd always owe him, and she hated that, but she had said what she needed to.

But then, several months later, after she got better with the bow and met Gale and survived her first Reaping, she began trading with the baker. Rooba, the district butcher, had dropped a hint during one of Katniss' visits to trade meat that the baker was especially fond of squirrel .

Katniss had approached the back door of the bakery with trepidation. She was pretty sure Mrs. Mellark wouldn't answer, as Katniss had been watching from outside for some time. It looked to be just the baker and his oldest son working.

She knocked on the door and tried to come up with what she'd say. Your son saved my life and I thought you might like to trade with me? No, I don't want to bring Peeta into this. I'm terrible with feelings, thought Katniss. Maybe I should just introduce myself and ask if he wants to trade.

The door opened before she settled on what to say, nothing seeming quite right. Mr. Mellark looked down at her, the pain of losing Peeta still evident in his face. "Good day, Katniss," he said, tiredly but not unkindly.

Katniss gaped. "You know my name?" she questioned. She'd never even spoken to the baker before.

"I do," smiled the baker. "Peeta," - he cut off and swallowed hard - "Peeta spoke highly of you."

"He did?" squeaked Katniss, amazed. Why would Peeta have spoken to his father about her?

The baker cleared his throat and shook his head. It wasn't fair to reveal the boy's feelings - little good it did now. "So, what can I help you with today, Katniss?"

Katniss opened her game bag and drew out two squirrels. "Rooba said you might have a use for some squirrels."

Mr. Mellark smiled as he inspected them. "Amazing shot," he said softly, causing Katniss to blush. "Right through the eye."

"Now let's see," continued Mr. Mellark, "what is a fair trade for two excellent squirrels? Would you say - two loaves of fruit and nut bread?"

Katniss' eyes widened. He couldn't know about the day in the rain - that Peeta had thrown her those exact loaves. "Anything but that bread," she said quickly, with a scowl. "It's, um, that would be too generous of a trade."

The baker started to argue but just nodded his head, taking the squirrels and leaving Katniss on the porch as he went to retrieve two loaves of whole wheat. At least I'll slip in a couple cookies for Lily's girls, he thought to himself. Goodness knows they could all use the extra.

The back door opened again and Katniss was surprised to see Rye, the middle Mellark brother, glaring at her. "What are you doing here, Everdeen?" he said coldly.

Katniss was surprised. She'd never interacted with Rye - he was in Gale's grade at school, a couple years older than her - but he was known to be pretty congenial, even to kids from the Seam. Too congenial, if you believed the rumors about him and girls at the slag heap.

"I'm trading with your dad," Katniss replied.

"I can't believe you'd come here, of all places, to trade. Aren't there enough other Merchant families for you to do business with?" Rye replied, his voice starting to raise.

"Excuse me, are you upset with me for trading?" asked Katniss, bewildered and starting to get angry herself. Rye had no right to speak to her that way, even if she was from the Seam.

"Really? So you're going to pretend you don't know that Peeta had, like, the most ridiculous crush on you? That the reason he went into the woods was he knew you did and he wanted to explore it? Show you he was brave, too, or some hogwash like that. Wanted to get your attention. You're the reason he was out there, the morning he died. I knew you had some nerve but never thought you'd show your face here." Rye's voice was nearly a shout, now.

Katniss couldn't speak, it was too much. Peeta had liked her? As in, like liked her? It was her fault he'd gone into the forest? Before her emotions could get the better of her and she started crying on the porch, she sprinted off the doorstep.

Mr. Mellark, hearing the last bit of Rye's berating, jogged back to the porch holding a bag with warm loaves and three slightly broken cookies. He looked at Rye, who by now was sullen and deflated, and shook his head at himself. Sorry Peet, he thought, he isn't handling this well. None of us are. Mr. Mellark sighed. "Rye, you shouldn't have told her. And I know it still hurts, but you can't blame her. Peeta wouldn't have wanted that," he said, putting a gentle hand on Rye's shoulder. "Please help Bannock finish up in there. I'll be back in an hour." Mr. Mellark grabbed a pen to quickly scribble a note, hung up his apron and headed off to the Seam.

Katniss had bolted from the Baker's house, unsure where to run. Prim would know something was up if she went home, and it was too late in the day to go back into the woods without risking notice from the Peacekeepers. She was surprised when she found herself at Peeta's grave. She stared at it for a moment, then threw her game bag at it angrily. "You liked me? You were trying to, what, impress me? That's why you went into the forest?" Katniss was shaking with anger. It would have been better if he'd just given her the bread because he pitied her, not because he liked her. It made his death her fault, in a way. And she felt a strange sense of guilt that she could never return Peeta's feelings, not that it mattered anymore. She'd seen what love did to her mom and swore she'd never let another person make her that weak. I hate death, she thought to herself. My dad, Gale's dad, Peeta...none of this is fair.

Katniss sat down in a huff by Peeta's grave, retrieving her game bag. Trading with the baker had been a terrible idea.

"Why didn't you ever talk to me?" she asked Peeta's grave, the words spilling out. "I don't know what good it would have done, me being Seam and you being Merchant, but - I just, I wish you were still here. Maybe if you'd have talked to me you'd have known. You didn't need to do anything to impress me. Especially not something dangerous like that. I - I already knew you were kind, and good. Really good. Too good for here." Katniss sighed. Something about the fact that Peeta's grave couldn't respond made it easier to just say whatever she was thinking. "I'll never stop owing you. I wish you were still here. This would all be so much less complicated."

Katniss trudged back home, tears and anger all spent out, and stopped short when she saw the bakery bag on her doorstep. She opened the bag to breathe in the smell of fresh, real bread - not made from the coarse tessera grain, like what they'd had last week - and noticed a note inside. Katniss, she read, please accept my apologies. Rye shouldn't have said those things to you. It's not your fault in any way. We don't know why Peeta went into the woods that morning and we never will - but I know he'd never have forgiven me if I didn't take the chance to do business with you. Please keep coming by. - Mr. Mellark.

How does the Baker know where I live? she thought. He clearly didn't know how people in the Seam felt about owing - now she would owe Peeta, or his memory at least, for being able to do trades with the Baker. She had never expected to be so connected to Peeta, or his family, especially after he died. She shook her head, trying to decide what she should do.

As she entered her house, Prim was at the table reading through their father's plant book. In her downtime, Prim read whatever she could get her hands on - anything to do with healing already interested her, even at eight years old. Katniss knew she'd be an amazing healer, given the chance.

Prim's eyes lit up when she saw the bakery bag. "Did you get us bread, Katniss? Real bread? You're amazing!" Prim bounded out of her seat to get a whiff of the bread. "And ohmygosh, cookies! Thank you, sis!"

Katniss groaned. She'd do anything to make Prim light up like that. Fine, she thought angrily, to no one in particular. Fine. I'll trade with the baker and just owe Peeta Mellark forever.

---

That's how it had started. Katniss hadn't intended to make it a weekly ritual or actually talk to Peeta's grave, but it was something she fell into naturally. On her way into the forest on Sunday mornings, she'd grab dandelions from the Meadow if they were blooming - or buttercups or lilies or Queen Anne's Lace, depending on the season - and stop by Peeta's grave. She always made sure to thank him - she and Prim were practically set in bread for life, after all - and often found herself just saying whatever was on her mind. No one was ever in the graveyard that early, and she enjoyed the solitude.

It feels good, she thought one early Spring morning several months later, and free, talking like this.

It was a different kind of free than what she felt in the woods, with Gale - they never talked much, too focused on finding the food they needed to make it through another week. And while she and Prim would chat, Katniss would never want to burden her with her worries or fears. She always put on a positive face for Prim. But at Peeta's grave she said whatever she wanted - her anger at her mother, for turning inward when she and Prim needed her most; her fear of the Reapings and how Prim would starve if Katniss ever had to go into the Games; how she felt closest to her dad in the woods and often talked to him, too; her shame at their clothes always being in poor condition and the sideways looks they got from all the Merchant kids at school because of it; her desperate desire to give Prim all the things she wanted and deserved. Katniss had pushed past the fact that Peeta had apparently liked her - Rye could have been wrong, after all, and it didn't really matter now. She always left the graveyard feeling lighter, which she thought was probably not typical for someone visiting a graveyard.

Katniss was nearly thirteen now, and she'd been filling Peeta in on how some of the Merchants had already started pairing off. "At thirteen, Peeta!" Katniss shook her head at their silliness. "I'm not jealous about them pairing off or anything, just that they have time to even think about something besides, you know, eating and staying alive." Gale often railed about this during the short times they stopped for a break from hunting - and while Katniss agreed, she never really matched his level of anger at their Merchant classmates. "But they can't help where they're born anymore than I can. And some of them are kind of decent, like Madge. Dalton - I think you were friends with him? - he's been coming over to our table at lunch, I think trying to get up the nerve to ask her out. I hope he gives up soon, because it's painful to watch him try to talk to her."

She stood to go into the woods - it was almost time to meet Gale. She gave Peeta's grave the three-finger salute of their district and quietly walked down the path, feeling hopeful for the morning's hunt and a bit lighter as she always did when she left Peeta's grave. I wonder what Peeta would have been like, now. It's been nearly two years.

She shook her head to get herself to concentrate. The ice had melted a couple weeks ago and the mornings were finally warming up - she was looking forward to a good haul, with the animals hopefully coming out to search for food. She hiked up her game bag on her shoulder and drew in her father's coat tightly as she glanced around, making sure no one saw her, as she disappeared under the fence and into the forest.

Chapter Text

Completed by: Peacekeeper Thrall

Location: District 12

Submitted: Day 286 of Year 71

Person of Interest: Katniss Everdeen

Age: 13

Family: Lily Everdeen (mother, age 38), Primrose Everdeen (sister, age 9)

Threat level: Neutral

Status report: K. Everdeen hunts several times a week with companion Gale Hawthorne. K. Everdeen has access to illegal bow and several arrows. Trades meat at local black market and with several families in town. Does not appear to pose threat to Peacekeepers or district at this time.

Recommendations:

Continued surveillance

Confiscation of contraband weapon

Detainment at later age

---

Snow sat in his office reading over the report. "Get me Thrall, District 12," he said into the intercom.

Thrall came up on Snow's screen minutes later. "Yes, Sir."

"Thank you for the report on our dear Ms. Everdeen."

"Of course, Sir. Is there any action you'd like me take immediately?"

Snow waved him off. "Your assessment matches the software's. Let her hunt, for now. It's good for the people to have a little hope - too much, no. That breeds instability. But a little hunting, a little meat - let them feel as if they can outsmart us, as it were." Snow paused. "We'll decide what sort of punishment is fitting at a later date. Keep me informed of any new developments."

"Yes, Sir", replied Thrall.

"Oh and Thrall?" Snow smiled. "How's the family?"

Thrall cringed internally but kept his face neutral. "Fine thank you, sir." Damn if his smile wasn't the creepiest thing.

"Good. I'll see that they remain that way, contingent on your performance in 12."

Snow pushed a button to end the transmission. He considered what drink to pour from his impressive spirits collection while he strategized on what to do with the troublesome Ms. Everdeen, and perhaps Mr. Hawthorne, too. Such blatant disregard for Capitol laws couldn't go unpunished.

Chapter Text

District 13

"Alright, class, our essay prompt was exploring how the population containment strategies of our two previous presidents differ from President Coin's current policies. Hand them up, please."

Peeta sighed. He'd spent most of the night trying to read about the previous two presidents, something his classmates had undoubtedly already studied. He hadn't had much time to actually write the essay, but he handed it up and hoped for the best.

Peeta's first few weeks in District 13 had been rough, to put it kindly. He was constantly getting lost in the hallways. His room was too quiet. He missed the smell of bread and the banter of his brothers. He worried about Katniss, hoping that she and Prim were finding enough to eat.

School was interesting, but challenging. He was fascinated by learning about the other districts. In 12 they learned cursory things, like District 10 raised cattle and 11 grew food - but Peeta had never heard such detail about the history of the different districts, or how cultures varied from district to district. Not to mention the history of District 13, and how they had managed to survive since the Dark Days. Peeta felt constantly behind in class, something he hadn't experienced in 12.

The other students were nice enough, though different from the friends he was used to in 12. For one thing, there weren't many kids in his class - some sickness had swept though 13 a few years ago and many of the people in the district, especially children. Peeta had noticed the district seemed to have a sad feeling to it, but he had attributed it to the being underground and grey and less than interesting food - as well as his own homesickness.

Peeta's assigned "friend" in his class, Caden, had filled him in on this, as well as which day of the week promised the best lunch (the fourth day, because that morning was when the district got meat shipments from District 10) and where kids spent any scheduled free time (mostly in the district recreation room, which reminded Peeta of the gym his brothers used in 12 for wrestling training).

The best parts of his day, besides time he spent watching his family in the bakery, were his art and public speaking classes at school. Art felt like a little piece of home, though their projects varied based on what sorts of supplies they'd gotten in shipments from the other districts.

Peeta's favorite was still drawing, as it had been in 12, and he kept all his graded homework assignments so he could use the paper. He filled pages with detailed sketches of apple blossoms, dandelions, intricately decorated cakes, hands kneading dough. And Katniss. He drew Katniss every day, in some way - a young face hidden by a long, dark braid; in a plaid dress and donning two braids, from their very first day of school; laughing with Prim during recess at school.

Then came the day he got to try painting, thanks to a shipment from District 8. He sat just looking at the colors for a full few minutes, as memories of firey autumn leaves and the Meadow overrun with colorful wildflowers and mockingjays perched on glistening ice-covered branches flooded his mind. A dandelion, like a small burst of sunshine, resting in Katniss' small, dusky hand. The few days he had the chance to paint were his best days in District 13.

He'd been surprised when his school schedule included public speaking, as it wasn't like any class offered in 12. He was even more surprised to find he was good at it - great, even. Peeta excelled on "roundabout" days - he and his classmates would be assigned topics randomly and have to speak on them for a few minutes. Peeta was shocked with how easily he could influence his classmates, bringing out laughs or even tears with even the simplest topics he had to speak about.

Peeta still woke up according to baker's hours at four am, filling old homework pages with sketches and watching his family prepare to open the bakery while he waited for breakfast. He spent his evenings much the same way, alone in his quarters and drawing - watching his family prepare ingredients for the next morning until lights out. Same routine, same ache every time he saw them on the screen.

Seeing how often his father stopped to wipe tears away, how much more Rye stayed away from home, and the dark look on Bannon's face filled him with guilt. I'm right here! he wanted to yell at the screen. Only a few hours away! His mother, of course, seemed unchanged. Peeta wondered if she'd told the rest of the family about his "removal". He often replayed that morning in his head - how she hadn't even fought for him a little. He had known she wouldn't, but wished she would. What did it say that a district with no ties to him cared more about his life than his own mother?

Even after being in District 13 for nearly a month, Peeta felt lost. He had regular check ins with Dr. Pax and Kathryn the orientation leader - he was able to convince them he was adjusting just fine, thank you, since he didn't want to know what would happen if he wasn't fitting into District 13. Where else could someone who was supposed to be removed go? But he still hadn't learned any more about the things he really wanted to know. Why he'd been removed, namely. If he could ever go back home to District 12.

One evening, several weeks after arriving, he spied Mr. Beetee sitting on his own in the cafeteria during the dinner period. Of all the adults Peeta had spoken to, Beetee stood out as someone didn't withhold information - he'd run into the older man one previous time. Peeta had gotten lost on his way back from school and was wandering through hallways that all looked the same, when out popped Mr. Beetee from one of the rooms. He steered Peeta back towards the correct hallway and updated Peeta on his latest project for District 13 without much prompting. Peeta didn't understand most of what he said, but still appreciated it.

There wasn't anyone else important looking at the table with Mr. Beetee, so Peeta figured it was a good chance to learn some more - about why he'd been targeted for removal, how it was that District 13 seemed so safe from the Capitol's software, anything that was actually important but no other adults would talk about with him.

"Hello, Mr. Beetee", Peeta said. "Is it okay if I sit here?"

Beetee looked up at him and blinked. Peeta shifted nervously as he saw a tablet in front of Mr. Beetee - it seemed like he'd interrupted the older man from doing something important.

"Of course, Peeta", said Beetee, putting down the tablet he'd been reading from.

"Thanks," replied Peeta, taking a seat at the metal table.

Beetee stared at Peeta for a few moments, seeming to look for something. "How have your first few weeks here been?"

Peeta smiled, but shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Everyone is trying to be nice."

Beetee nodded. "That's commendable."

"It's really lonely, though," Peeta blurted. He looked at Beetee, then away, hoping it was alright to tell the truth. "I'm grateful for being saved and all the trouble everyone is going through, I just, you know, miss my family and friends."

Beetee cleared his throat. Comforting was not something that came naturally to him. "That's to be expected. I believe it took me two years before I felt adjusted to the ways of this district."

Peeta stopped mid-bite, his fork of potatoes and some unidentified meat suspended mid-air. "Wait, you aren't from 13?"

"Not at all, I'm from District 3. One of their former Victors, too. It makes sense you wouldn't know that, though, as I was in the Games nearly two decades ago."

Peeta gaped and looked closely at the short man, who wore glasses and a wry smile. Mr. Beetee had won the Hunger Games?

"You were in the Hunger Games," Peeta said slowly.

"Yes. They were terrible."

Peeta could tell that thread of conversation was over from the faraway look in Beetee's eyes and firm set to his mouth. Peeta had seen enough during the mandatory viewings at home to know living through the Games would be awful.

"So how did you end up here?" Peeta asked curiously. "Were you being removed, like me?" Questions upon questions, that's all he was discovering.

"Now that," Beetee said, brightening a bit, "is an interesting story."

"In District 3, youth begin learning about software quite young. I was an exceptionally intelligent teenager and was tapped to work on some software for the Capitol, alongside some other similarly exceptional classmates." Beetee paused. "We were working on the Capitol's crime prevention software."

Peeta raised his eyebrows but stayed silent - he didn't want to distract Beetee from telling him everything he was willing to share.

"I'm not sure how much you know about the history of the software," Beetee continued, "but its artificial intelligence only became mostly accurate in the last couple decades. It was created about thirty years ago, and from the beginning the rebellion saw the danger in it. They planted people who could report back to 13 about the software, and they reached out to the programmers - including me."

Peeta couldn't help it, he had to interrupt. "There's a rebellion?"

Beetee blinked. "They haven't gotten to that in school yet?" He shrugged, then continued. "Of course, the revolutionaries from the Dark Days didn't disappear - they just went into hiding. Literally, when it comes to District 13, but there are people who are part of the rebellion all over the districts."

Peeta thought for a moment. "So how come Watcher doesn't catch them? Why aren't they removed?"

"Precisely!" Beetee paused, taking a bite before he continued. "So a member of the rebellion contacted us - I believe I was around sixteen at the time - and outlined some ways we could compromise the software. Create a way for the rebellion to continue their work of weakening the Capitol."

"Of course, all of us already had reservations about making any improvements to the software as instructed by the Capitol. But if we didn't do as the Capitol expected - improve the accuracy of the software - we knew there would be consequences. And they would eventually find others to work on it. It was an impossible situation." Beetee paused again, seemingly lost in thought.

"So you did what the rebellion asked?" Peeta finally prompted, when it seemed Beetee wasn't going to continue.

Beetee smiled. "Hardly. We did create blind spots in the software, of course, but our changes were much more sophisticated than what the rebellion had suggested."

"And the Capitol hasn't ever figured it out?"

Beetee frowned. "There are a number of protections to prevent it, code buried and viruses triggered, for example, but I'm sure they will find it eventually. We just have to hope the rebellion is successful before then."

Peeta was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that there was an actual rebellion, trying to beat the Capitol. He felt a spark of hope. "If the rebellion wins, can I go home?"

Beetee stared at Peeta, thinking about how little the boy knew the plans that involved him. "I certainly hope so", he replied.

Peeta sat with that for a bit, eating a mediocre roll and thinking through everything Beetee had told him. He wondered if he'd be like Mr. Beetee eventually - still living in 13 years later, eating bland food from a metal tray. "Mr. Beetee, you never said how you ended up here."

Beetee took a drink of water and cleared his throat. "There were five of us in all, teenagers working on the software. After we completed what the Capitol had told us to do, those same classmates began dying off. The first from an illness, another in a fire, another had a project diffuse while she was working in it... I was reaped at 18. I assume the Capitol predicted I would not survive the Games, which was a logical assumption. But I did, and when I returned my last remaining classmate who had worked on the software was dead. District 3 certainly doesn't have a terribly long life expectancy, but it was clear to everyone that the Capitol was disposing of those who had seen the code. A few weeks after returning from the Games, I exploited one of the weaknesses of the software - of course we'd written it so that those of us who worked on it were undetectable to the program. I staged my own death, making it appear as though one of the many projects I kept in my residence had blown the house up. I made my way to 13, and I've been here ever since."

Peeta had so many more questions. Had Beetee walked here? Did that mean he'd seen other districts? How did he win the Games? Instead he asked, "Why are you telling me all this? I mean, thank you, because that was...wow. But no one else here, at least the adults, will answer my questions."

Beetee looked at him from over his glasses. "Well, I'm familiar with what it means to be an outsider. Loneliness, I believe you said you were experiencing that."

Peeta nodded and looked down.

"Besides, the rebels know who I am and if the Capitol finds me, I'm dead. Or worse."

What's worse than dead? Peeta thought to himself, but didn't ask. He'd never spoken to an adult who talked like Me. Beetee. He nearly asked if the older man knew why Peeta had been removed, but thought better of it. He had already learned so much, and Mr. Beetee seemed finished talking. Another time,, he promised himself. It's not as if I'm going someplace anytime soon.

"Oh and Peeta?" Peeta looked up as Beetee interrupted his thoughts. "I'll see what I can do about getting you some more video streams of District 12. I'm sure you'd like to keep track of the reapings, as terrible as they are, and perhaps get to see a bit more of the district than just the inside of the bakery?"

Before Peeta could reply, the alarm sounded to signal the end of the dinner period. Peeta glanced at his wrist tattoo - he didn't think he'd ever get used to that part of 13 - to confirm that he had recreation before bed. He thanked Beetee again as the older man tucked his tablet under his arm and walked away.

Chapter Text

District 13, Four Years Later

Sounds of clanging metal and bodies hitting cushioned mats filled the training room. It nearly drowned out the fast beat of music blasting through the speakers, which in Peeta's opinion had nothing on the lively fiddle music of District 12.

Peeta wiped the sweat from his face with a towel and then threw it to the floor as he resumed his match. He enjoyed wrestling and wished for the millionth time he could tell his brothers about it. They'd be proud to see how he carried on the family tradition.

The rifle and knife training was entirely different. He hated how they felt in his hands, hated the soft thunk the knife made when he hit the target and the explosive pop of the gun during shooting practice.

Peeta Mellark was becoming a soldier.

He'd fought it, at first. When he turned fourteen and was given the paperwork to review occupations that youth could train for in District 13, he immediately signed up for the kitchen. He began splitting his school days between baking in the morning and classes in the afternoon. The first time Peeta's hands dipped into the flour, he couldn't contain his smile. A little piece of home, he thought. He still remembered the recipes from his family's bakery, and the kitchen staff readily accepted his contributions. If they felt hurt by how much more people seemed to enjoy the bread once a fourteen year old from District 12 took over, well, they didn't let on - Peeta had already won them over with his easy attitude.

Life in District 13 fell into rhythm for Peeta that felt more natural after he started at helping in the kitchens. Time in the kitchen, art and public speaking to make up for the rest of the difficulty at school, and the few havens in District 13 - like the enormous artificial greenhouses that sheltered much of the district's native food supply - filled his days with meaning. Peeta loved to spend recreation time with a spare piece of paper and pencil sitting in the warmth of a greenhouse, surrounded by growing, fresh things. He learned early on that he could find beauty in this district if he looked closely enough - plants in the greenhouses; the different skin tones of the people, since several were refugees that had traveled from outside districts; variations in the food thanks to contraband shipments from outside Thirteen.

He discovered too that District Thirteen's small computer room, which was open to students at certain times of the week, had records of books from before the Dark Days. Peeta had always been a diligent, if not enthusiastic student - but once he discovered the books housed on the computers, particularly the ones on art, he was consumed by them. He learned about incredible artists like Da Vinci, Van Gogh, and Twombly - names forgotten by Panem's history. Peeta tried to imitate them, amazed at how rich with art people had once been. He imagined the things they called "museums" must have been similar to old Games arenas - preserved carefully so wealthy people could visit. Peeta read about history before the Dark Days, all the lands that had existed before Panems. There was a whole world inside that computer room just waiting to be unlocked, and Peeta could hardly believe he had the chance.

But nothing filled him more than seeing Katniss.

He'd discovered her by happenstance when he was twelve, still adjusting to life in the underground district. Beetee had been true to his word and given Peeta access to see more of District 12 - mostly outside, like the Meadow and Town Square. The recess area at school, even the graveyard and parts of the district near the fence. The day Beetee stopped by to show Peeta the newly expanded options on the viewing screen in his quarters, Peeta missed half of his wrist tattoo's plans for the day. He sat in bed watching his friends walk to and from school, seeing them show off at recess. A few days later, after watching his family prep the bakery early one Sunday morning, he flitted around the different channels on the screen.

And then he saw her.

Peeta dropped the remote in surprise. She was in the graveyard, near a headstone, and speaking. He didn't think he'd seen her face so open or smile come so easily since before her father died. She looks so well, he thought, and pretty. He started to listen to what she was saying, but was hit with a pang of guilt. He retrieved the remote from the floor and quickly turned the screen to mute.

Is this wrong? Peeta thought to himself. Watching his friends at school and his family at the bakery was one thing - he'd been part of them, after all. But Katniss and he had never spoken. And she was in a graveyard, that had to mean she needed some privacy - and Katniss was already such a private person. He paced his small room, running his fingers through his hair distractedly. She'd definitely be mad if she knew I was eavesdropping.

That settled it. He turned back to the screen, set on his decision to turn it elsewhere when he noticed it was his grave she was sitting at. His grave that had a bright new clump of dandelions on it.

Peeta tried to comprehend why Katniss Everdeen would be sitting at his grave and chatting away. He warred with himself internally and finally settled on just watching her, with the volume off. Not much different from what I used to do, he thought. Coward.

So Katniss became a living, breathing part of his week instead of memory he had clung to. He watched for any sign of her starving again, and while she was still too thin he was relieved that he never again saw the desperation in her eyes. Peeta eventually pieced together, from listening a little closer to his family's conversations, that Katniss was hunting (he was thrilled with this news) with Gale Hawthorne (not as thrilled with her hunting partner).

Peeta missed District 12 as the years passed, and his family and Katniss most of all. He wished fiercely that he could talk with her, hold her hand, be part of her excursions in the woods. He held on to the hope that he could go back to District 12 someday, that Katniss visited his grave each Sunday, and that he wouldn't feel like such a stranger when he did return since he'd been watching parts of the District's life.

But when he turned fifteen, things seemed to tip on their axis. He finally got the information he'd been wanting since he arrived in Thirteen, and so much more besides.

A few days after his birthday the school counselor, Mr. Takara, had taken him aside and "highly encouraged" him to consider entering solider training. Peeta listened politely as he droned on about the physical benefits, duty to the district that rescued him, the honor that came along with being a solider, how most of his classmates were pursuing it - and then, with a smile, assured Mr. Takara that he was much more cut out for the kitchen. I could never kill someone, he thought to himself.

Rigsby, who had welcomed him on his first day in Thirteen, sat with him at lunch one day and enumerated all the wonderful things that came along with training to be a soldier.

"Girls, Peeta, girls. I'm telling you, after a few weeks of training with Commander Lyle, girls will be falling all over themselves to get to you. It's something about the uniform and workouts that's like...a drug or something."

Peeta smiled. He'd never told his friend about Katniss Everdeen - really, no one in Thirteen knew how he cared for her. "How do you like the bread today, Rigs? I convinced one of the gardeners to grow some extra rosemary, and this is the first morning it was ready to use in the dough."

Rigsby shook his head, smiling slightly. He'd known it would be pointless to try to convince Peeta on this, but he'd been ordered - at least he could tell them he complied.

Peeta was summoned to Command shortly after that. In the three years since he'd arrived in 13, he'd been to Command several times. Many times President Coin would just pepper him with questions, amicably enough, and he made sure to answer carefully. Beetee was often there, which put Peeta at some ease.

Most memorable were the times when he was interviewed on film - about being removed, his life in Twelve, what he missed most about home, and the hospitality of District Thirteen. Drew, his interviewer, even got Peeta to talk about Katniss once when he was fourteen. Peeta was sure his face was flushed the entire time, but he also liked the idea that some part of his care for her could be recorded. In case his worst fears came true and he never made it back to Twelve. They told him the interviews were for history, records to add to their vast databases.

This visit to Command was different. Peeta was directed to a closed off room, where President Coin sat with several grim-faced men at a large conference table. Beetee was there, but didn't greet Peeta with his typical soft smile.

"Peeta", acknowledged President Coin. "Please sit down."

Peeta took a seat across from the line of adults, wondering what was so serious.

"It's been over three years since you arrived here, Peeta. Have we done anything except care for your needs?"

Peeta forced a pleasant smile onto his face, worrying internally. Their conversations didn't typically start this confrontationally.

"Your district has been nothing but kind, President Coin. I hope you know how grateful I am."

Coin smiled tightly. "We appreciate your gratitude. I'm curious why you refuse to serve the district as a soldier? Your classmates and friends are all in training for the good of the district, and you prefer the kitchen."

Peeta chose his words carefully, surprised at the turn of the conversation. "My apologies, President. I had no idea how important it was to the district. I want to help Thirteen in any way I can." Peeta paused. "I honestly don't feel cut out for being a soldier. Baking is what I've known most of my life, and I was excited to have the chance to help the district with the skills I have."

Coin looked over to Beetee, who nodded slightly. "I'm glad to hear it," she said a bit more gently. "We've agreed it's time for you to know more about why you've come to Thirteen."

The large screen in the room came to life, and Peeta was shocked to see his young self holding two burnt loaves of bread and sporting a large welt on his face. Katniss, he thought, knowing what would come next. She sat under the apple tree starve and soaked. Suddenly, the screen sped up to show he and Katniss again - but they were older in this scene, covered in dirt and blood. He watched himself reach out to touch her braid - something he'd dreamed of doing countless times - when the screen turned red. Imminent threat. Revolution.

Peeta stared at the screen dumbly. What did I just see?

Coin turned to him as the video finished. "We obtained that information through extreme sacrifice. One of our top informants was killed as a result."

Peeta simply stared, attempting to form a coherent question.

"Basically, Peeta", Beetee said, "the software - Watcher - predicted with nearly absolute odds that you and Ms. Everdeen would ignite a revolution in Panem. The Capitol decided to remove you to keep this from happening."

This jolted Peeta out of his silence. "Me? I'm baker's son from twelve! Katniss is a coal miner's daughter. District 12 is poor. How could the Capitol possibly think we were capable of that?" She was starving, he thought to himself. Starving. What threat could she be to Panem?

"Be that as it may-" began one of the advisors, but he was quickly cut off by Peeta.

"Is Katniss OK? I mean is the Capitol going to do something to her, too?" interrupted Peeta.

"She's being watched, but she is safe for now", Coin replied, clearly trying to hide her impatience. "We showed you this video because I want you to understand what we saved you from. The Capitol would not have only killed you, they most likely would have tortured you. Regardless of your youth." Peeta's eyebrows shot up - there was so much he didn't know about the Capitol, what lengths they would or wouldn't go to.

Coin continued, encouraged by his reaction,"I also want you to see how much of a help you could be to the rebellion. There is a place for you here, not only in the revolution but in the new Panem that we will build. You're gifted with words, we've seen how you can easily sway your classmates and superiors alike. You could help convince citizens to join our cause. You could be a politician afterwards, easily. Live a more comfortable life." She paused to gauge Peeta's reaction, frustrated now at his impassive expression. "We also wanted to let you know we plan to bring Ms. Everdeen here, soon. We want her to work alongside you. Her skills with a bow would be a significant asset." That should win him over, if nothing else, Coin thought to herself.

"No!" Peeta exclaimed. Seeing the surprised on their faces, he tried again. "What I mean is, how soon, President Coin?"

"Quite soon. Shortly after the Reaping, as you call it. We thought you'd be happy with that news - isn't she important to you?"

Peeta took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. Katniss will wither away here, he thought to himself. Underground, and without Prim.

"Is she in any immediate danger?" As Coin shook her head, Peeta continued. "Katniss - if you want Katniss to be part of this, you have to know that she loves her little sister Prim more than anything. And Katniss is the main provider for her family. If you take her away now, it would be hard to convince her to work with the rebellion."

"And what do you suggest we do instead, Peeta?" Coin asked, coldly. "I know you're somewhat familiar with how difficult it is to get district citizens into Thirteen - the months of planning and collaboration it takes. You want us to deviate from that?"

"I respect that President Coin, I really do. If you want me to be part of the rebellion, I'm just asking that you keep Katniss in District 12 as long as possible. And keep Prim safe."

Coin looked at Peeta sharply. "You will be part of this rebellion, do what is asked of you, if we hold off on extracting Ms. Everdeen and protect her sister?" Peeta nodded, his insides churning. What if he had overestimated how much Coin wanted him to be part of the rebellion's efforts?

"Then I suggest you get to training, Peeta. Soldier Mellark, rather. I'll be in touch with further responsibilities."

So he'd agreed. He'd train to be a solider and whatever the hell else they wanted him to be, because Peeta could pretend anything to keep Katniss safe.

Chapter Text

Peacekeeper Thrall waited for the video call to connect. His weekly conversations with President Snow had mercifully turned into monthly ones, as the President felt increasingly at ease about Katniss Everdeen. She was just a girl, a poor girl, with no intentions on a revolution - something that Thrall hoped came through in his updates.

"Good evening, President," Thrall said, as Snow's face materialized on the screen.

"Hello, Thrall. And how is the lovely Miss Everdeen?" asked Snow.

"No change since the last written report, sir. She continues hunting outside the District with Gale Hawthorne. Her mother Lily continues illicit healing activities in the poor section of District 12 and her sister, Primrose, continues to learn alongside her." Thrall paused. "She continues to trade with some of the business people in the Merchant Quarter, particularly the baker." He signed internally as he thought of the baker and what had been taken from him. Thrall was plagued daily with thoughts of what it would be like to lose his son.

President Snow tapped thoughtfully on the desk, considering Thrall's update. "I believe Miss Everdeen only has a few more years of being eligible for the reaping, is that correct?"

"Yes, President Snow," replied Thrall. "She's currently 15."

"Excellent," said Snow. "Continue monitoring her activities and report on anything out of the ordinary. Watcher continues to report she poses little threat to Panem." Snow stared at Thrall for a moment, calculating his next words. "You've performed your job well in District 12, Thrall. I think it will encourage you to know that you won't always be stuck in the outlands of Panem."

"I'm honored to serve wherever needed sir," said Thrall, wondering where this is going.

"Yes, yes. We've been running some calculations with Watcher - as you know, we've been considering how to best deal with Miss Everdeen. Suffice it to say, you can expect to move to a less homely District in a few years. Consider this as you continue your work there. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, sir," said Thrall, as the screen went black. He sighed with relief at the call being done and headed to the Hob, hoping to calm his nerves with some of the local spirits. District 12 has some good in it, thought Thrall as he walked through the streets. He tried to ignore how people shyed away from him and thought instead of his family - what kind of meal they might be sitting down to, what his son was learning in school. Jake, he thought happily, is at least safe. Thrall could put up with District 12 - and any other District, really - as long as it stayed that way.

At the other end of Panem, President Snow sat back in his office as he looked again at Watcher's calculations for the day. District 8 was simmering, as always, with discontent. Several people in District 11 had stolen food. District 2 was reliable and calm as always. He flipped to District 12 and considered again his options for Katniss Everdeen. The calculations with Watcher had shown that reaping her, or her sister, wasn't anticipated to bring about many reprecussions - Mr. Hawthorne and his reaction would be a bit of a wild card if Katniss were reaped, but nothing that the Peacekeeper force in 12 couldn't handle. And reaping was the most efficient way to deal with it - a punishment that was subtle, normal really, but without much effort.

President Snow put down the report, satisfied in his review. Watcher was working. Katniss Everdeen's previous threat to Panem was quelled, and would soon be altogether taken care of. He felt at peace.

Chapter Text

District 12

Katniss closed her eyes for just a moment - a luxury she didn't ususally indulge in while hunting - to take a breath of thankfulness. The thousandth one recently. Prim's first reaping had been over two weeks ago, and while the horror of the Games was still happening Katniss was thankful everyday it hadn't been Prim - or herself, or Gale - that was forced to be part of it.

Bright, growing, kind, and lovely Prim was the only person Katniss knew she loved, apart from her father. She cared for her mother, really she did, but resentment of her mom's mental absence after their dad's death and fear of her relapsing covered it so that Katniss didn't quite know herself what she thought of her mom. They treated each other like acquaintances most of the time.

And Gale, Katniss thought with a slight smile as she heard her best friend approach. He wasn't nearly as silent as her, despite his lean frame and years of hunting. And his family, too. They all belonged in the circle of people she loved. She smiled a little wider at the thought that Gale's brother Rory was safe from the reaping this year, too.

Katniss didn't know what it meant to have a brother but was sure Gale was practically that - despite the fact that they didn't talk about much beyond hunting techniques and their families, his friendship was one of the bright spots in her life. Gale, Prim and Madge - and Peeta's grave, which she felt must count as some kind of friend considering the amount of time and talking she spent there - made life in the District bearable. Sometimes even enjoyable.

Katniss opened her eyes to see Gale leaning against a tree, looking at her curiously. She frowned, then scowled as he continued staring at her. Do I have berries on my face from breakfast this morning? she thought, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth for good measure. Gale usually greeted her with a friendly tug of her braid and "Hey, Catnip" - a nickname she didn't love but tolerated, Gale being her best friend.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked abruptly. Their hunting time on Sundays was already too short so she didn't want to try to guess what Gale was upset about this time - a recently ended relationship, maybe, but he never really shared about those. Or his anger at having to work in the mines while Merchants had it easy in the District - it was unfair, she agreed, but his anger didn't make that better or any easier.

Gale shook his head, then asked somewhat slowly, "How did you start trading with the baker, Katniss?".

Katniss looked at him bewilderedly. She'd been trading with the baker for what, five years - five years since Peeta died she thought sadly. She often wondered if he would have been a bright spot in her life, too, if he'd lived - if he might have sat at her lunch table with Madge or gotten to know Prim. He'd braved his mother's wrath so maybe he wouldn't have been put off by the Seam and Merchant divide.

Katniss shook her head, knowing her musings were about as useful as Gale's anger. Peeta was gone, the baker was kind, and Gale was making no sense. Whatsoever.

"Why does that matter?" Katniss responded, a little more harshly than she meant. Gale was clever and talking with him sometimes felt like walking around one of the traps he was such an expert at setting - they didn't fight, exactly, but he was pretty keen on always being right.

Gale crossed his arms coolly, trying to act like it didn't really matter. But he'd seen Katniss - Catnip, who he thought he knew better than anyone - sitting in the graveyard early that morning and talking at the grave of the baker's youngest son. Smiling in a way he was sure he'd never seen her smile. Singing, for crying out loud. He'd no idea Katniss even sang, much less tht she had such a beautiful voice. His mind was roiling with questions. Why she'd been there, at that grave, of all places. Why he had never made her smile like that.

Gale hadn't meant to eavesdrop - he'd taken a different way to the fence just because, and much earlier than usual since Posy had waken up early with a summer cold - but he was so wholly surprised that he hid out of sight and listened as Katniss talked more than he'd ever heard. There's a whole part of you I don't even know! he wanted to yell at her. He felt stupid at being jealous over a grave, but it was supposed to be them against the rest of the world - and there she was acting cozy at a Merchant's gravesite.

"I was just thinking about it on the way in this morning. It's kind of odd how he always gives us fresh bread and even some extra baked goods sometimes. It isn't an even trade."

Katniss relaxed a bit at that, knowing her friend's own feelings about owing mirrored hers. "Speak for yourself, Gale - I shoot those squirrels perfectly and you know it." She quirked her mouth up a bit, hoping the conversation was done.

It wasn't.

Gale narrowed his eyes. "And he's always really friendly with you. Asking about your mom and Prim - I don't see you being that friendly with any of the other Merchants we trade with."

Katniss huffed. "Except for, oh, Madge, who I'm actually friends with at school? We talk about stuff, too." She didn't understand where this was going but was getting frustrated. They were wasting daylight. She wished Gale would just get to the point, or not. Preferably not. "I know you hate Merchants, Gale, but Madge is my friend. Mr. Mellark is a - he's a business partner, and he's kind. They can't help who they are."

Gale dropped his arms angrily, walking closer to her a bit. "And were you that friendly with the baker's son, too? You seemed to have a lot to say this morning!"

Katniss froze and Gale did, too. "Gale Hawthorne, did you follow me to the graveyard?" Katniss hissed. She'd never been angry at Gale, not in all their years of friendship.

"Of course not! I was just walking through early and saw you there. What the hell were doing talking and singing at his son's grave?"

Katniss sucked in breath. Once Gale got started being angry she knew it'd take him a while to calm back down, which she usually didn't mind - she'd just never had the anger directed at her before. She tried to remember what she'd promised herself after Peeta died - don't leave things unsaid - despite how pissed she was at the moment.

"Gale, you're my best friend. Like my brother, really," she said, thinking back to her musings of just a few minutes ago. "But that is none of your business. None. I'm going to start hunting now."

Katniss turned away from him to finally start the morning, but Gale grabbed her hand - and the next thing she knew, was crushing his lips against hers. What the hell? she thought, frozen for a moment.

"What the hell?" she said, out loud this time, pushing Gale away.

Gale still had her hand, and he was breathing heavily. "Your brother? Katniss, for crying out loud, is that what I am to you?"

Katniss shook her head and tried to get her hand free. "Gale, you know how I feel about - those things. I don't want a relationship, I don't want to get married, I don't want to have children. I don't want any of that." She couldn't believe the turn this morning had taken.

"You say that now, Catnip, but you're only sixteen. What about when Prim is through the reaping? What about when she gets married and has her own kids? You won't feel like this forever, and I'm sure not going to wait for you forever."

Katniss yanked her hand away forcefully. Wait for her? Is that what taking other girls to the slag heap involved? "I didn't ask you to!" she yelled. "I don't want any of that - not with you, and not with anyone."

Gale stepped away from her and thew his hands into the air. He was angry, but his eyes were sad. "Fine! I had to try, at least once," he said, before stalking away.

Katniss stood in the sunlight in the woods, shaking with anger - and betrayal, and embarassment - and something like grief. She'd never been kissed before and even though she hadn't exactly imagned what it'd be like, the way it'd gone with Gale didn't feel right. Gale had ruined her safe space at Peeta's grave and, she was afraid, their friendship.

She gave herself a few minutes to cry against a tree before she forced herself to hunt. "Boys are stupid," she said, wiping her eyes when she was finished. She shouldered her father's hunting bag and took out her bow, forcing herself to focus on what she needed to. Prim. Food. Survival.

She didn't visit Peeta's grave again.