Chapter Text
It was the beginning of spring, the weather finally becoming more comfortable than the winter cold, and Katniss and Peeta’s wedding was getting closer and closer.
In four weeks Katniss would become a Mellark, and in two her father would meet Peeta’s mother for the first time. She didn’t know which made her more anxious.
Now Katniss had the mission of finishing cleaning the last room in the house her father had given them — a wedding gift, and the house he himself had lived in until about two years ago.
Peeta couldn’t help. He had just gotten on a plane to Chicago to spend two weeks with his mother before returning to Bozeman. So she would be forced to deal with that room alone (and Katniss hated that).
Her slow, dragging steps were meant to delay getting there, not make her arrive faster — but somehow that’s exactly what it felt like.
She didn’t mind organizing a room by herself, but did it have to be the office? Her father had never allowed her inside that room, and it had taken the kind of patience only Peeta possessed for Haymitch to finally let the two of them clean it out.
Haymitch Abernathy could be impossible when he wanted to be (which was always).
Katniss opened the door. The house already felt like hers and Peeta’s, so it wasn’t hard crossing the rooms until she reached the office. But once she got there, she hesitated an extra second before opening the door.
The place was dusty. Full of boxes she was sure her father hadn’t opened in decades. A complete mess that was entirely Haymitch.
She sat on the floor for a moment, just staring around at the room that had been forbidden her entire childhood.
It felt strange being there, because for so long she had wanted to know what he was hiding. But once she reached adolescence, she had started thinking his prohibition was childish. And now she was finally there, with his permission and absolutely no desire to be.
Katniss pulled her phone from her pocket, opening Peeta’s contact immediately, and typed a quick, direct message.
Already here.
She was about to put the phone away, but decided she needed to add something, even if it wasn’t really her thing — just for Peeta. She’d done that a lot ever since she met him. Maybe her father had been right about the two of them.
My dad is a hoarder of boxes and alcohol.
Katniss slipped the phone back into her pocket and pulled the box in front of her closer, ready to unravel her father’s past.
The first boxes were filled with unnecessary papers, old useless objects, and more things Haymitch kept simply for the sake of keeping them.
There was no reason for that room to have been a secret. It was just clutter and dirt, nothing important at all.
Hours passed opening nearly identical boxes and throwing almost everything away.
Several trash bags piled up by the door.
Hours of Katniss almost laughing at how childish her father had been for hiding all that mess.
And before opening the last box, she got a message from Peeta. Katniss didn’t wait even a second before opening it — she needed a distraction.
Good luck, love. Don’t freak out, you know how Haymitch can be.
A second message came right after.
My mom is dying to meet you and keeps complaining that I waited so long to arrange it.
Katniss smiled, small and faint but genuine. She typed back quickly.
Last box, and I’m sure your mom is lovely. I can’t wait to meet her too.
She set her phone aside and grabbed the knife to cut through the tape sealing the final box. Only then did she notice what was written on top of it: Chicago.
Haymitch had definitely never mentioned going to Chicago, not even when he found out Peeta was from there.
Even with a spark of curiosity — because of the label and because it was the only marked box — she ignored it and treated it with the same indifference she had given the others.
The first thing Katniss saw was a black blazer, folded with a care Haymitch didn’t possess and stitched in a style that didn’t match the rest of his clothes.
She lifted it carefully, revealing everything underneath. There wasn’t much, but unlike the rest, it wasn’t junk.
A pink makeup brush, an orange butterfly pendant, a dried daisy inside a small frame, cufflinks shaped like pool balls, and an old leather wallet falling apart with age.
Katniss picked up each object and examined it carefully, trying to understand the story behind them. Everything had been preserved with incredible care, tucked safely inside the box with no signs of damage besides time itself — they seemed important to Haymitch, from a life before she was born.
The last thing Katniss picked up was the wallet, the leather nearly disintegrating in her hands. Inside were a few old receipts, a forgotten dollar bill and, to Katniss’s surprise, a photograph tucked into the transparent pocket.
It was a woman, a very beautiful and very young woman. Two photos taken on the same day, different poses, printed in black and white.
Katniss carefully removed the photo from the pocket, slightly afraid it might crumble apart in her hands. She studied the picture slowly, trying to recognize the features, which definitely weren’t her mother’s (who had died when Katniss was still very young), making her curiosity grow.
On the back of the photo she found a small message written in delicate, elegant handwriting.
Haymitch,
don’t forget that ninety-seven percent of the battle is a positive attitude.
So go out there and make them remember you.
— EF.
With a tiny heart drawn beside the initials in red pen.
Katniss didn’t know who the woman was, didn’t know what any of those objects meant, and didn’t know her father had ever gone to Chicago.
But she did know three things:
The first was that, judging by the care everything had been kept with, those things were (and maybe still were) important to Haymitch.
The second was that the woman’s final advice was the exact same advice Haymitch had given Katniss before her first archery competition.
And the third was that Katniss needed to keep that box and figure out what all of it meant.
So Katniss put everything back inside the box, closed it, and carried it to her room, shoving it into the back of her closet.
All just in time, because seconds later she heard her father behind her.
“You look scared, sweetheart.”
“Your imagination,” she said, turning toward him.
Haymitch looked the same as always — wrinkled clothes, messy hair, smelling like alcohol. But now Katniss looked at him as though trying to understand who he had been before her.
He smiled ironically, clearly seeing no reason to argue. She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and brushed past him toward the office where the trash bags waited.
“Since you’re here, at least help me carry your garbage downstairs.”
Haymitch stayed quiet again, simply picking up the trash bags and following behind her down the stairs.
That tense silence nearly made her pull the photo out from behind her phone and ask who that woman was.
Nearly.
Always nearly.
---------
In Chicago, the cars moved faster, and everything felt too rushed for Peeta. He had grown up there, but the time he’d spent in Bozeman had made him unaccustomed to that hurried lifestyle.
“So, sweetheart, how are the wedding preparations going?” Effie asked excitedly, dragging Peeta into yet another clothing store.
She asked him that every single time they talked, as though overnight he and Katniss could suddenly change every detail of the wedding.
But Peeta never minded answering. He actually liked seeing how involved and excited his mother was about his marriage to Katniss — a clear contrast to Katniss’s father, who hadn’t even put down his bottle while congratulating them.
“Everything’s basically ready. Katniss just needs the final adjustments on her dress.”
Effie nodded enthusiastically, as though she herself were making the bride’s gown.
“I’m sure whatever she chooses will look stunning!” she said while wandering through the clothes without truly looking at them, Peeta following behind her. “As for your suit, Peeta, it’s magnificent.”
“I’m sure it is, Mom. You made it.”
Peeta hadn’t hesitated for a second to ask his mother to make the suit for his wedding, and Effie hadn’t hesitated either in accepting.
Effie Trinket was a renowned architect in Chicago who had somehow also fallen into the fashion world. She divided her time between designing buildings and designing clothes.
Peeta had grown up surrounded by that environment, accompanying his mother to events for as long as he could remember. He had gained a certain reputation because of her surname, recognized immediately whenever he introduced himself as a Trinket. That was why, when he moved to Bozeman, he started using Mellark instead — the surname of the father who abandoned him but whom he had never truly managed to hate.
He could honestly say they were two different people — Peeta Trinket and Peeta Mellark probably would never have met if they weren’t the same person.
Making that choice had never been about disliking his mother or rebelling — like Katniss assumed — it had been about finding himself beyond what people already expected him to be because of her.
People always asked if he planned to become an architect or work with fashion or art, continuing his mother’s legacy was what everyone expected (especially when that legacy was already well established), but all he had ever wanted was to open his own bakery.
Since childhood he cooked constantly, always covered in flour and preferring the company of ovens over people. It was a natural talent no one had needed to teach him, but Effie’s support had been essential.
Those choices had led him to Bozeman, which had led him to Katniss, which had now brought him only weeks away from his wedding.
Still, he had never fully understood how he ended up in that city in southeastern Montana. He had bought a ticket to Kentucky, and when he arrived at the airport his flight had been overbooked. The attendant offered to transfer him to a flight to Bozeman leaving in about an hour, or wait for another Kentucky flight the next day.
Effie had told him Bozeman was wonderful and that he should go, that it was a clear sign Kentucky wasn’t where he belonged. Peeta had never asked when his mother had been there, but he had always been grateful she convinced him to go.
“Oh, Peeta, you are the sweetest boy I’ve ever known.”
Whenever she said that, Effie’s eyes filled with tears, and Peeta would hug her. This time was no different — he pulled her into a hug right there in the middle of the store, like he always did.
“Thanks to you.”
Effie pulled away from the hug, wiping the tears that insisted on falling.
“I can’t believe my baby is getting married! I’m almost sure yesterday you still fit in my lap.”
Peeta never knew what to say in moments like that, so he simply smiled and blushed. Effie lightly tapped his cheek and smiled.
“I love you, son.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Most people would find such public affection strange, but he had never cared. Peeta loved his mother far too much to be embarrassed by it.
Maybe his mother wasn’t the easiest person to understand or deal with, but he knew that once people met the real Effie Trinket, it was impossible not to love her.
Yeah, he was ready to let Katniss’s small family meet his small family — which in four weeks would become one.
---------
Night had already fallen, the clock nearing midnight, and Peeta sat on the bed in his childhood room with three small boxes around him.
Effie had handed them to him saying they contained things from her youth, and that she wanted him to give one of them to Katniss as a family heirloom and to make it clear the girl was part of the family now. Peeta had procrastinated opening them until that exact moment.
With the room almost entirely dark, lit only by the Spider-Man lamp he had never gotten rid of, he grabbed his phone and texted Katniss a simple hi. She answered almost instantly, so Peeta called her and rested the phone against one of the boxes.
“Hi,” Katniss said as soon as she answered, sitting down on her bed.
“Hey! Was it hard throwing away Haymitch’s stuff?”
Peeta sounded much cheerier than he probably should have, only trying to lift Katniss’s mood, because she sounded utterly exhausted.
“No, he keeps way too many useless things.” Katniss bit her lower lip, wondering if she should tell Peeta what she had found.
“What is it?”
He asked immediately, recognizing the gesture perfectly.
“Nothing. It’s just… well, in the middle of all that mess I found a box that actually seemed important.”
Peeta picked up one of the boxes and rested it in his lap, smiling in an attempt to make his fiancée more comfortable.
“Really? What was inside?”
“A few objects that make absolutely no sense for him to keep. But what caught my attention, besides how well preserved everything was, was a photo I found inside a wallet that was there.”
Katniss decided to leave out the fact that the box had also been labeled Chicago. She still hadn’t fully decided what she thought about that.
Meanwhile Peeta pulled a jewelry box from the box in his lap.
“I don’t think it’s unusual for people to keep photos in their wallets. I have a picture of you in mine.”
“The problem isn’t the photo, it’s that it was a woman who wasn’t my mother.”
“Has Haymitch never mentioned an old girlfriend?”
She shook her head, lying back down on her bed. Peeta opened the first drawer, which contained nothing but butterfly accessories.
“Can I see the picture?” he asked, looking away from the jewelry box and toward the phone screen.
“It’s not here.”
Katniss lied, and she knew Peeta probably knew it too. But he didn’t insist. He never insisted. He always respected her boundaries more than anything.
“Okay.”
“What’s that?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“Just some of my mom’s things.”
Katniss mumbled something, her eyes already nearly closed. She wanted to stay on the call longer but sleep had practically already won.
Peeta noticed, let out a soft laugh, and decided he’d let her sleep.
“Goodnight, Katniss.”
A small smile slipped onto her lips before she answered.
“Goodnight.”
He had to be the one to hang up, and once he did he set the phone aside and focused on the jewelry box.
Peeta wasn’t sure any butterfly accessory would suit Katniss, but he chose the one that reminded him most of her as a possible option.
The second drawer contained accessories far too colorful, so he dismissed those immediately because Katniss didn’t like colors nearly as much as his mother did.
In the third drawer, while moving through the jewelry, he found a golden mockingjay pin. It was so Katniss that he didn’t hesitate before taking it and setting it aside for her, stretching slightly to place it on the nightstand.
Before closing the drawer and putting it back inside the box, he noticed something that definitely didn’t belong inside a jewelry case. A pink wallet at the very bottom of the drawer.
Peeta immediately pulled it out.
The wallet seemed practically empty at first glance, containing only a forgotten twenty-dollar bill and a compact mirror. But in the last compartment he found something folded with writing visible on the back.
Peeta picked up the paper, instantly recognizing it as a photograph. Once unfolded, the marks left by time on the image became obvious. A man — a man he didn’t recognize.
After spending a few moments simply staring at the face, trying to find something familiar, he turned the photo over and found a single message written to his mother:
Effie,
Don’t be a stranger.
— HA.
Peeta only knew one person with those initials, and it was his father-in-law.
The thought crossed his mind uninvited, and he immediately dismissed it. Haymitch had never even been to Chicago and his mother to—
No.
Effie knew Bozeman. She had been the one who told him to go there when his flight got changed.
What were the chances this was possible or just a coincidence?
Katniss had also found a photo inside Haymitch’s old wallet, but Peeta hadn’t seen it, so there was no way to prove anything.
It all felt too unreal — the idea that his mother and his future father-in-law might know each other well enough to keep pictures of one another in their wallets. And that man didn’t look like Haymitch.
He gripped the photograph tighter, startled when he heard footsteps in the hallway. Peeta quickly shut the jewelry box and shoved the wallet and photograph beneath his pillow.
It didn’t take long before Effie knocked on the door and opened it.
“Peeta? Are you still awake?”
“I just picked out a pin for Katniss.”
His mother’s face lit up at that.
“Which one did you choose for her?”
“The mockingjay pin.”
He hadn’t expected her smile to disappear the moment he said that, replaced by something painfully close to melancholy.
But it didn’t take long for Effie to regain her composure, trying to offer her son a smile that no longer reached her eyes.
“She’ll love the pin. Now go to sleep, sweetheart.” And she left, adding yet another question to Peeta’s mind.
He placed the jewelry box back inside the larger box and lowered all three to the floor. Before lying down, he tucked the wallet and photograph into the drawer of his nightstand.
It wasn’t easy to fall asleep. Not when it felt like a past his mother had never shown him was finally beginning to surface.