Work Text:
The only thing I can hear is ringing.
The high-pitched sound is the only thing I can consciously register.
Vaguely there is the feeling of my feet shuffling on the ground.
A booming voice issuing commands.
And the splatter of blood, hot and sticky on the side of my head.
I have no sense of danger or place, only an animalistic panic that has frozen me in place. We all wonder what response we would have, fight or flight? Apparently I chose freeze.
A swift punch hits me in the back of the knee, I fall to the floor and a set of hands gently hold the base of my head to the concrete bricks of the town square.
The world comes crashing back in on me and I hear the peacekeepers shouting, the wails of Woodbine's mother over his body, and a set of startling grey eyes meet my own.
"You trying to get yourself shot Mellark?" He whispers to me. "Won't be doing me any favours."
I've just about regained my senses to register what he says. I don't trust myself enough to respond in this moment, still shaken from the image of Woodbine's head exploding. Another spray of bullets passes overhead and I feel Burdock Everdeen move closer, almost half covering me, his warm hands never leaving my head. He smells of fresh grass and chamomile. His ragged suit gives him a very dashing look. I can't seem to pull my eyes away from his, as they shine like silvery pearls in the sunlight. He seems to tether me to the world.
"We've got five minutes! A five-minute delay and then we'll have to finish this live! Get rid of the bloody ones!" Drusilla Sickle screams across the square.
Before I can do anything else, the strong hand of a peacekeeper grabs me by the arm and tugs me towards a shop. He tells me and a few others to stay put and not to be seen in any of the windows.
I stand panting, leaning against the counter for a few minutes, trying to collect my thoughts and simultaneously not throw up. The fact that we've been shoved into the butcher's shop and are surrounded by cases of raw meat does nothing to calm my stomach.
Sick and disoriented, I'm able to form only one thought: Burdock Everdeen just saved my life.
I certainly don't want to be here when Rooba comes back from the Reaping and finds me with blood in my hair near all the fresh meat. She's a tough woman regardless of whether or not it's Reaping Day.
I make my way out of the shop, through the back door and head around the back gardens of the shops to the bakery. I wash the blood off my face and out of my hair and attempt to look presentable once again.
As soon as the drawing of a new name is done, the bakery will flood with people wanting to buy good quality bread and pastries to celebrate another year of their children not being taken, and I know my folks will be wanting my help to run the counter.
Over the next few hours, I get the gossip from the revolving door of customers and piece together the events I missed. To my dismay, Haymitch Abernathy was taken after defending his girlfriend from the peacekeepers.
While I certainly didn't know him personally, he was a stand up guy. Hung around with Burdock Everdeen and Blair at school, was very friendly to everyone, and was dating the Covey girl that lives out by the meadow. It will certainly be sad to see him go.
It doesn't occur to me until after dinner that night that I never thanked Burdock. Not even a glance over my shoulder as I was pulled away from the crowd.
Before I can think better of it, I sneak down the stairs to bakery, wrap a few cookies in white baking paper, and slip out the backdoor.
Each house is alive with chatter and laughter and light despite the bad weather. Everyone celebrating with bottles in hand and good food. Children run up and down the streets chasing one another and couples make out perched against walls and street lights.
I try not to stare in envy.
I never much considered love. As the only child my parents managed to have, I naturally will take over the bakery, and I suppose I will be expected to find a wife to have children with so the business stays in the family. I am definitely looking forward to having kids of my own someday. But someone to have them with has never been anything more than a transactional thing for me, so I'm not sure why seeing other happy couples celebrations is bothering me so much tonight.
I continue walking until I reach the Seam. I ask a few people for directions, and I'm pointed towards a small house that leans awkwardly off to one side. No one appears to be home so I wander along a bit further coming to a disgruntled house over by the meadow.
A light seems to come from every window but very little noise can be heard from within. This house is known for emitting a beautiful symphony of music, from fiddle playing to beautifully sung ballads but the house is quiet and sollom as I approach.
For a moment I consider trying this again tomorrow but know if I don't knock now, I will never pluck up this courage again.
A weary older gentleman answers the door, his face stern and accusing. He asks why I'm there.
"I'm sorry to disturb your evening, I was just wondering if you knew where Burdock Everdeen is?" I ask, nervously rushing through the question.
He opens the door further to reveal a few other people perched looking towards the front door curiously. Burdock walks up and tells the older man to relax before stepping out onto the front step and shutting the door behind him for privacy.
"Hey, no one is trying to shoot at you again are they?" He jokes as the door clicks shut.
He's taken off the suit jacket and has unbuttoned the collar of the shirt several buttons exposing part of his chest. He's clearly been allowed a couple of drinks by his parents as his eyes try desperately to focus on mine.
At the sight of him in front of me, my tongue turns to sandpaper and I forget every rehearsed line I had formed in my head. Without saying a word I reach into my pocket and pull out the pack of cookies and silently hand them to him.
He unwraps them and stares down at them as though they are pure gold. The cookies are made from a recipe my family has held since the dark days, so perhaps they are the closest to gold this coal mining town will ever know.
I've only ever seen him in the bakery on a rare occasion, mainly around New Year when his family would buy a nicer loaf of bread than the Tessarae rations would make. He's started recently tagging along with Asterid March, who comes in every Tuesday for cheese buns.
"Thank you for saving me earlier. I don't know what happened, I just sorta froze." I say, averting his gaze.
He pockets the cookies slowly, as though initially not wanting to accept them but is unable to part with such a luxury.
"It's fine, it's what anyone would have done. Thank you for the cookies though." He replies, smiling for just a moment before fading back to a mournful expression.
He seems greatly pained by the events of the day and is too tired to give any other response.
"I'm sorry about Haymitch. He was a good guy." I say.
Burdock turns to me slightly annoyed, replying swiftly, "He is a good guy. He's not dead yet."
I mumble sorry once again and raise my hands in surrender. I'm really fucking up this apology.
He turns to leave but over his shoulder he teasingly says, "You really shouldn't give away such delights for free by the way. I'm sure I would have had to trade 5 or 6 squirrels for the cookies you just gave me."
"I'll know for next time!" I joke back, as the door closes shut. A light and airy feeling fills me as I replay the interaction in my head as I walk home. How he looked, handsomely backlit by the house's lighting, his calm and outgoing demeanor, the way our hands brushed slightly as I gave him the cookies.
I'm still slightly drunk on the feeling as I lie in my bed that night, hoping the feeling lasts a little longer. I have no name for it only that it is all consuming and maddening and guiltily indulgent. Like I could drown in the feeling and die in the bliss that it leaves me with.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few days later I'm running a small stall of bakery items in the Hob. We don't do it very often but with the excess stock we made for Reaping Day about to become too stale to sell, we set up shop and sell everything at a slightly discounted price.
A few hours in I'm rather bored of sitting behind the stall when I notice someone familiar out of the corner of my eye.
In a dashing leather jacket and a bag slung over his shoulder, Burdock Everdeen wanders from stall to stall with a deep scowl on his face. Upon making eye contact with me however, he brightens and makes a beeline for me.
I only have a moment before he's in front of me to brush my hand through my hair to get control of my curls and double-check the apron I've got on is not covered in flour. Or not anymore than it usually is.
"Hey, funny seeing you here." He says in greeting.
"Yeah, the post-Reaping Day sale is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday. How's your trading going?" I ask.
"Fine so far, figured I'd stop somewhere and get a snack. Should I be concerned no one else is looking at your stall? Is the bread poison?" He jokes.
I look down embarrassed. "No, the miners here seem to think the dense baker's son will let them get away with any trade no matter how unfair. I think I hurt a few feelings and I may have ruined sales for the day."
He chuckles as he pulls his bag around and perches it on the table. He pulls out 3 squirrels by their tails and then points to two loaves.
"Would this be enough for the two loaves? Or am I no better than a butthurt miner?" He asks.
"We usually only take scrip or Capitol coin, what makes the squirrels a fair trade?" I respond, looking at the scrawny things.
He wanders around the stall and kneels down on one knee so he's level with me as I'm sat on a crate. His eyes light up as he begins to explain how to break down the bodies to get the most meat out of each limb by cutting at specific angles. He also highlights the fact that he's managed to shoot them all through the eye, saving all of the meat.
"If you're careful to slow cook it in a stew you can't tell the difference between squirrel and rabbit, and it's a fraction of the price." He says upping his sales pitch.
I know my mother will likely be upset if I bring 3 squirrels home instead of scrip but find myself buying them anyway.
Perhaps it's the way he's managed to convince me that squirrel meat could taste like rabbit or the fact that he's so close to me I can feel my cheeks burning that breaks my resolve. Besides I may as well get a meal out of the two loaves of bread and if he's right we'll finally get some more meat for dinner. I love my job but you certainly get sick of bread every night after a while.
Burdock thanks me for the trade and then suggests I move closer to Greasy Sae's stall and market the bread to the starving patrons who need some bread to go with their stew.
His advice works a treat and by the end of the day the stall is picked clean. Not a crumb in sight. As I walk home, money and squirrels in hand, I pass by the apothecary shop. Looking in the window I see Asterid March sweeping the floor. She walks up to turn the open sign around and spots me staring through the window. She waves lightly and smiles, though the smile doesn't reach her eyes.
She has the same mournful expression that Burdock had on Reaping Day. Both had a friend taken to the Games, at least one of them fated not to return.
I return the smile kindly and continue my way home. My parents are thrilled with the sales and I prepare the squirrels just as Burdock instructed. I put the meat from two into a pot to start making a stew and take the last one and fry off the pieces in a pan before trying it. The taste is nuttier than rabbit but otherwise it is delicious. While my mother is skeptical at first, upon trying it she reluctantly agrees the trade deal was fair.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A week or so later, I run into Burdock while going for a walk through town. I don't stop him long, only long enough to thank him for the trading advice and to offer him another cookie. He tries to decline but I'm completely distracted by the stubble beginning to form on his chin. While some may think it makes him look unkempt, I think he looks rather handsome. Older and somehow refined.
I fake like I have somewhere to be and try to leave so he won't have a chance to return the cookie but he begins needling me for information.
"Do you just always have cookies in your pockets sweetheart, or am I someone special?" He flirts jokingly.
I'm shocked for a moment, but I laugh before saying, "I'll always have cookies for you darling." Worried I come off a little too sincere in my promise, I blow a kiss to him and he plays right along, catching it and bashfully fanning himself. We break into a fit of laughter.
"Where are you headed in a hurry then sweetie?" He asks.
I wrack my brain for anywhere I would be going. The short interaction from a few nights ago comes to mind so I jump on the idea.
"The apothecary. I'm sure Asterid will have what I need." I say, hoping the lie sounds believable.
At the mention of the girl, Burdock stiffens up and begins to look me up and down as if trying to find a hidden meaning in my words.
He finally responds by wishing me luck on getting what I need and stalks off in the direction of the Hob, a scowl on his face.
I do actually end up in front of the apothecary shop a few minutes later and something in my head makes me walk in. The aroma of various scents is rather suffocating I find but when looking at various small containers of edible plants which are labelled with healing qualities, I notice a selection of nuts and raisins. Something compels me to buy them and Asterid happily rings me up.
I can't imagine what it is I said that upset Burdock but I find myself overthinking the whole interaction for the rest of the day. I don't know what I said wrong but when I'm unable to sleep that night, I slink down to the kitchen and begin making bread. May as well get a head start on prep if I'm not going to sleep.
I find myself looking over at the nuts and raisins sitting on the counter and decide to add them to a batch of the high gluten bread and set them in the oven to bake.
The resulting bread is dense and chewy, and incredibly filling. The nuts and raisins add an extra kick of flavour and turn the bread into a meal in and of itself. When my father wakes to begin the day I pass him a piece. He wholeheartedly agrees that the bread is good, asking what inspired it.
I tell him about passing the apothecary the other night and returning to buy a small sample of the nuts and raisins. He begins to scribble down on a spare piece of paper a rough recipe from my account and begins looking at the budgets.
Later that day as my mother is running the shop, he drags me back to the apothecary and buys them out of their nuts and raisins. He then makes me carry two large bags of the ingredients home much to my dismay.
By the end of the week we have the recipe down and it's very well received by the wealthier in the District as well as the peacekeepers who can afford it.
Burdock begins knocking on the backdoor to sell his squirrels shortly after opening one morning and I give him a piece of the bread to try, anxious for his opinion.
He hums after each chew, complimenting the crust and the chewy dough and the sweetness of the raisins being complimented by the oaky nutty flavour.
The bliss on his face and his assessment of the craftsmanship fills me with joy. That is until I tell him how much we're selling a loaf for.
"That's extortionate, it can't possibly cost that much to make it." He argues.
I give him a sympathetic look. I fear I've just given him a small taste and now he's desperate for more. Like a morphling addict looking for their next hit. I pass him one more piece from the loaf we cut at dinner last night unable to leave him unsatisfied.
"It's not just the ingredients but also how filling the bread is. One loaf would feed a starving family for a day or two. My original intent behind it was just to make a more filling bread for the more hungry in the District but with it selling out at such a high price it's never going to be affordable to those that really need it." I say dejectedly.
"Well at least someone's getting fed. To be honest I didn't think you were going to the apothecary the other day to get nuts and raisins." He says, almost to himself.
I frown, once again perplexed about what at the apothecary I could possibly be after that irks him so.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Haymitch wins the Games a week later after the rest of the tributes die tragically from Careers, poison, a volcano, mutt attacks and a very brutal ending battle that will be sure to leave the Capitol audience happy. There is no celebration or District pride.
On the big screen in the town square, with most of the District watching with baited breath, we see Haymitch crowned Victor by the announcers. But with the image on screen showing him lying looking at the sky and his organs being held in by his hands, it doesn't feel like a victory.
The crowd dissipates quickly as the mandatory watching finishes. I see classmates crying, one woman be sick in an alleyway, and Burdock and Blair shielding Mrs Abernathy and Haymitch's little brother from the crowd of Capitol reporters desperate to get their reaction.
Haymitch comes home to nothing. No celebration. No reporters. And no family.
Most of the District makes it's way out to the graveyard. I wear my nicest black clothing and try extra hard not to get any flour on it before leaving the house.
The utter despair is heavy and it feels difficult to breath. Six people dead. All too young. All too good for this messed up world. Well maybe all except Mr Callow.
In a miraculous moment however, a sound begins to ring out over the mourners. It is comforting and clear. And the rest of the world goes silent. Not a creature stirs. Even the birds stop to listen.
Burdock's voice fills the empty space inside us that grief has hallowed out. His voice ensnares my senses and lifts my very soul. I can see him through the crowd of mourners. Tears roll down his cheeks and his eyes fill with determination to finish the song. And I know in this moment, I am a goner. I have fallen for him.
I have fallen in love with him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Burdock knocks on the backdoor after a few days. My parents have long since gone to bed but I'm busy reading when the noise comes. He looks tired. But through his pain he asks if I want to come for a walk with him. I make sure to lock the backdoor behind me as quietly as possible and we slip away without a sound.
It's only around 9pm, but town is quiet. There's not much to do in Twelve when the sun sets. The miners have to get up at the crack of dawn for their shifts so everyone goes to bed rather swiftly after sunset.
We perch ourselves on a wall and watch the occasional person stumble home from the direction of the Hob. The silence between us is comfortable but I think Burdock is building up to something. There's a charged energy coming from him that makes me nervous.
"Can I tell you a secret?" He says quietly.
I nod.
"I want to ask out Asterid. But I can't tell if this is a bad time," He says. "My cousin Lenore Dove is dead. And Haymitch will never be the same. He won't let me help him. And I just..." He trails off.
I don't interrupt or push him to continue. I turn to face him, offering him a warm smile and wait patiently for him to finish.
"I feel like the only good thing in my life right now is her. I know that seems a bit dramatic but I just... I don't wanna do this out of grief. I wanna do it out of love, do you get what I mean?" He asks.
I pause trying to think of what to say. People have always said I have a way with words and wished I spoke up more. I try and muster that power now.
"I don't know much about love. I have only fallen in love with one person. But if she is the only thing in your life at present that brings you joy, be near her. Offer her yourself exactly as you are." I say carefully.
He nods. He stares out to the empty square over to the apothecary. I stare at him.
"Who did you fall for?" He asks, as if we're teen girls discussing crushes on the playground.
I continue to stare at him and don't speak. He looks over. For a second concern fills his face as if my silence implies we're talking about the same person and I laugh.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to try and take her from you, dear." I joke.
He laughs as well turning back to the view. Perhaps it is easier to let him believe I want her. If nothing else it is out of duty for my love for him that I let him love her. She can make him happy.
"Anyone I love will be well cared for. And I'm sure another person will take my fancy soon enough." I reassure him, turning my gaze to the apothecary shop as well, as though letting go of a crush.
We wander back to the bakery in silence.
Something about the lie I told doesn't sit right with me. We stand at the back step looking at one another. His face has brightened considerably after the talk we had and he looks just perfect in the moonlight. I know in this moment I can't lie to him.
I just preached the value of offering your truest self to the one you love, and yet I lied to his face about who I am and what he is to me.
He seems deep in thought once again. He looks up at me and whispers, "Otho you have so much to offer someone. What are you going to do with all that love?"
For a few short moments, as we stand facing one another, I allow myself the privilege to let my eyes flicker down to his lips.
His beautiful lips.
I think about what it would feel like to have them pressed against my own. To feel his tongue inside my mouth. To feed him a cookie and then taste the sweetness through our kiss.
I muster every bit of strength within myself to only look. I indulge in the fantasy for moment too long to be friendly. I won't speak this desire out loud. But as my blue eyes finally flicker back up to his pearly grey eyes I think he understands.
"Let it pass."
I will let this love pass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Burdock and I do not speak again outside of idle chit chat at the backdoor. It's not awkward. It's not painful. It is what it is.
He doesn't resent me. In fact I think he wholeheartedly would accept if I went on to date anyone regardless of gender. But I don't.
I don't even really date her very long. We go on 3 'dates' before deciding to go to the Justice Building just after her 19th birthday. We're aged out of the Reaping and hold a small toasting with family.
She's bold and strong. I definitely have a type. I think she will be a good wife. And in time perhaps I will come to love her. Or at least love our children.
Burdock congratulates me and then excitedly tells me about his own engagement a few weeks later to which I hand him a packet of cookies and the finest loaf I have in stock. He smiles at the cookies and we each give each other a knowing grin.
"Don't smile at me like that sweetie, we're both taken now Otho!" He says, clearly testing the waters as to whether we can joke about this or not.
I laugh. And so does he.
The yearning feeling that I expect to feel wrapped around me doesn't happen. I take this as a good sign that after 3 years I've moved on.
There is still a little flickering fire, deep down at the bottom of my heart for the man who can make the birds stop and listen when he sings. The man who saved my life. But that is all it is anymore. A flicker.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We wave to each other on occasion after his girl starts school. Like myself, you can see his absolute pride in his children. Peeta seems particularly enthralled by his eldest daughter, as I catch him staring at her across the playground on occasion. I say nothing about it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's not until a few days after the mine explosion that I hear about Burdock's passing.
I freeze once again.
My ears ring.
I lean against the bakery counter.
And then sink to my knees.
I only have a few moments to process the news before Peeta stands in the doorway, looking at me. Even at only 11 years old he is the spitting image of me. And has all the compassion in the world.
He walks up and hugs me, clinging on as tight as he can. And I hug him right back.
The grief dulls quickly however.
Perhaps I grieve more for the version of Burdock I knew at 16; the dashing young man who brought me to my knees and made the world fall away.
The 35 year old family man he was at the time of passing is whom Asterid grieves. I will not dishonour his memory by believing I knew him well enough now to grieve his loss correctly.
I never considered love or romance before him, and I never do again. Not because he stole my heart; but because I never offered it. All that time wasted staring at him, offering food and comfort, none of it would have made him mine.
It's not to say my eyes never wandered. Plenty of men from the Seam share his similar features. The slightly rugged look and faces smudged with coal. I try my best not to stare when they come into the bakery and never when my wife is around. But I only indulge for fantasy sake, never with proper intent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few months later, early one morning as I'm mixing a fresh batch of cookie dough, a small knock comes from the backdoor. I open it to find Katniss Everdeen stood holding 3 squirrels by their tails with a distinct arrow hole through the eyes. A light scowl adorns on her face. His hunting jacket is thrown over her tiny malnourished frame and her grey eyes shine up like silvery pearls in the early morning sunlight. His eyes.
She is the spitting image of her father. A ghost stood on my back step.
After a moment, I shake off the dazed look and I find myself asking, "The usual rate?" To which she nods.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Occasionally I see Burdock's girls through the bakery window, admiring the cake displays, looking enviously. If I knew I could spare any cookies now I wouldn't hesitate to hand them over for old times sake.
But the District is not as well off as we were in my youth, and now so many of us are starving. Even the merchants.
I despise having to live off stale food and sneakily tell my wife the stew we're eating is not rabbit from the butchers but squirrel meat. The boys think it's hilarious we don't tell her but our marriage is rocky enough so I won't give her another reason to yell.
I begin bringing cookies in baking paper to the Reaping when my oldest becomes eligible. They each get one at the end of the drawing because I know the terror of being stood, scared out of your mind that you'll be picked. Anything to make the experience better is something I'm going to do for my children.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I raise my three-finger salute in thanks to her alongside the rest of the District when Katniss Everdeen volunteers for her sister. I only have a moment to think how proud Burdock would be of his girl, how disappointed he would be at seeing Haymitch dive off the stage, before Peeta's name is drawn and I nearly fall to my knees.
My wife's comment about 'that girl being a survivor' irritates me. For once I tell her off in front of my sons and make her say goodbye to Peeta quickly. The boys hug one last time. I embrace Peeta and tell him to be brave and hold his head up. His tears soak into my shirt. I give him his Reaping Day cookie from the package in my pocket before I'm ushered out by a Peacekeeper.
My wife rounds up the boys and heads towards the exit. I tell them to head home and shut the doors and windows, and close the blinds. No one protests.
I ask the Peacekeepers if I can say goodbye to the girl as well and they tell me to wait for her immediate family to leave.
Asterid and I nod to each other when she exits the room, held upright by little 12 year old Primrose. Asterid has a vacant expression on her face as though in another world. She quickly shakes it off before standing upright and attempting to leave the justice building with confidence.
I open the door and find Katniss sitting on a velvet couch, clearly holding in tears.
I sit down on one of the plush chairs and pull out the package of cookies from my pocket and hand all of them to her. She opens it, surprised by what she finds inside.
"Thank you," she says. "I had some of your bread this morning. My friend Gale gave you a squirrel for it."
I nod, unable to look at her.
"Not your best trade." She adds.
I shrug. She's right.
I couldn't be bothered bartering this morning. Katniss Everdeen is a very fair trader, always considerate with her offers. Hawthorne won't stop fighting me until I'm worn down and he gets the best trade possible.
I suppose only one squirrel will do now that Peeta won't be coming home for dinner.
We sit in silence as I try to think of something to say. I'm really fucking up this goodbye.
I can't imagine she would know I knew her father, nor do I think that knowledge would help her. This young girl has held her head high for the last 5 years without her father's income or protection, and has earned the respect of everyone in the District for it.
I think of how she volunteered for her sister, something my second oldest son could have done for Peeta. I do not nor would I ever have expected him to volunteer in Peeta's place. But the thought of young Primrose being the last part of Burdock left brings a promise to mind.
Just as the thought forms, a peacekeeper summons me from the door. I clear my throat and turn to her for what I think will be the last time.
"I'll keep an eye on the little girl. Make sure she's eating." I say and then exit through the door before she can respond.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the morning she wins the Games alongside my son, I place a cookie and flowers on Burdock's gravestone in the Everdeen family plot.
As I go to leave, a mockingjay hops down from a nearby tree and begins to hungrily feast on the pastry.
And the world is silent.