Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Katniss

I could hear Cinna’s words from three nights ago echoing in my head. Breathe, Katniss. Just breathe. But that was easier said than done in this dress.

Had it still been that cruel wedding dress, I would have ripped the thing to shreds. But Cinna had turned me into a piece of walking art, and I didn’t have the heart to destroy it. My hand reached desperately for the clasp in the back, shaking from my uneasy breathing. No, worse than uneasy, I couldn’t breathe, and it was only making me panic more.

It was in this state that Finnick found me, as I knew he would. There was no stopping him from getting in, no lock on the door — not on the inside, anyway. He at least had the decency to shut it behind him.

“Katniss?”

His voice was soft. Mine came out so loud and panicked I almost sounded angry.

“I can’t find the zipper!” Tomorrow I was going into the arena, but at that moment the only thing on my mind was getting out of this dress. “I can’t — I can’t breathe!”

Finnick approached me the same way I would a wounded animal. Gently, he brought my trembling hands to my sides. With an almost annoying ease, he unclasped the top button and pulled the zipper down. In stark contrast to his gentleness, I pushed the dress down roughly, yanked my arms out of the sleeves, and stepped out of the garment. I was left in only a simple white slip that matched the original dress. The heels I’d taken off long ago in the elevator.

“Katniss,” Finnick tried again, sounding pained as he reached for me, but I pushed away from him.

Pressing a hand to my rib cage, I shook my head. “It’s not enough,” I panted. Why couldn’t I catch my breath?

“Just breathe, Katniss.”

The screech I let out was both unexpected and unhinged, and certainly Finnick didn’t deserve it. But I was tired of hearing it. From Cinna when he’d broken the news, Haymitch tonight in the elevator as my anger burned off my skin, and now Finnick. I was tired of men — even men I loved — telling me what to do.

“Stop telling me to breathe!” I shrieked. “It isn’t that simple!”

I must have scared him because Finnick didn’t say anything, didn’t try to reach for me again. He only watched me, his brows knit with concern. Possibly he was considering whether he needed to call for backup.

Before he could do that, I threw the bedroom door back open. “I just need air,” I said, not waiting for a response. I hoped, selfishly, that Finnick wouldn’t follow me at all.

Haymitch had disappeared, but Effie was there to witness me march out of my bedroom, gasping at my appearance. I paid her no mind, stepping out of the suite and into the hall, dashing to the stairs. In nothing but my little slip, bare feet slapping against the concrete, I pushed out onto the rooftop and finally, finally took in a full breath.

Slowly, I made my way to the edge, gripping the railing and looking down at the city below. My eyes searched for a sign of the force field I knew existed, something I’d learned how to spot from Beetee and Wiress, but I couldn’t find the glitch.

Frustrated, I shouted, “Why don’t you just let me jump! It’s what you want!”

For a moment, I considered that maybe there wasn’t a force field tonight, that I couldn’t spot it because they had turned it off. But with each full breath I took, my head became a little clearer. Even if I wanted to jump, I couldn’t. I may have let Prim go, but I couldn’t forget her. Couldn’t stop protecting her.

I would just have to die in the arena.

To his credit, Finnick gave me five minutes alone before joining me on the roof. I wasn’t being fair to him, I knew that. He’d had a bomb of information dropped on him tonight, and all I’d done since was close doors in his face and push him away from me. Made him worry about me.

Because I didn’t deserve him, Finnick came with a blanket, draping it over my nearly bare shoulders once he reached my side.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, my demeanor a complete turn around from just minutes before.

Finnick placed his hand over mine on the railing, but the buzz and light of the city didn’t take any of his attention, which landed fully on me. “Please talk to me.”

I didn’t need to ask what about.

Cowardly, I kept my eyes downcast on the streets below. “Cinna told me, after the Tribute Parade. He noticed it on my scans.”

In earlier years, the tributes hadn’t taken any health screenings upon arriving to the Capitol. Naturally, it led to many of the kids, especially those from the poorer districts like 12, dying early and hardly giving them the show they wanted. Now, if a tribute came in with something even temporarily treatable, the Capitol patched them up before sending them to slaughter.

Of course, this meant Cinna wasn’t the only one who knew. I’m sure Snow had gotten a kick out of it, until Haymitch unknowingly used it against him.

Finnick ran a hand down his face. “That’s why you were upset.” I said nothing, kicking absently at the roof’s ledge. With a palm on my cheek, Finnick tilted my head until I was forced to look at him. “Katniss, why didn’t you tell me?”

I backed out of his touch, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Because of this. The way you’re looking at me right now.”

His eyes were intense, searching, yet glistening with unshed tears. In them I could see guilt, along with a hardened sense of determination. The latter scared me the most.

“This changes nothing, Finnick.”

His lips pulled down in a frown and I hated how he still looked beautiful when he pouted. “It changes nothing and it changes everything.”

I shook my head and stepped towards him again, taking his hands in mine. The blanket fell, piling at my feet. “It’s hopeless,” I said, my voice barely audible above the sounds of the city. “And even if it wasn’t, do you really think it would survive the arena?”

It was an unkind word, but it was the only word I had. The only word I could handle.

“Maybe,” he said. I couldn’t handle the undeniable hint of hope on his pretty face. If I knew better, why didn’t he? “You can’t stop me from trying, Katniss. You can’t ask that of me.”

An unseasonably cool breeze brushed over my bare shoulders, my hair still up in intricate braids. Reminding me of how little I wore. Finnick knelt briefly to grab the blanket and tuck it back around me, his hands staying on my shoulders to keep it in place.

“You can’t ask me not to do the same for you,” I countered.

Finnick sighed and pressed his forehead against mine. “Okay. I’ll take that deal.”

I understood what he wasn’t saying. He would tolerate me trying to save him, because I’d have to be alive to do so. What a pair we made.

When he pulled away, his tears were back, finally breaking free of the lower lashes they had clung to. “I’m so sorry,” Finnick said, pained and averting his gaze.

It was my turn to take his face in my hands, to make him look at me. “It’s not your fault.”

Finnick huffed a laugh, short and without humor. “Of course it’s my fault. You can’t get pregnant on your own.”

I winced at the word. It was easier to talk around it, so I could pretend that it wasn’t real.

“Maybe not, but I might as well have been asking you to do it.”

Finnick frowned but at least had the sense not to deny it. We’d been mutually all over each other in the weeks after the Quell announcement. Of course, we had thought it was safe. But really, would it have changed anything either way? There was no reason to worry about the future when you didn’t have one.

“Did Cinna say how far along you are?”

“Three months, approximately.”

I watched him do the same math I’d done and come to the same conclusion. He cursed under his breath.

“The shot they gave me after our engagement must have been bullshit. No wonder I haven’t had any clients.”

I could see the guilt creeping in on his face again and pressed closer. “It’s not your fault,” I repeated.

Finnick closed his eyes for a long moment, apparently deciding there was no use in arguing. We didn’t have the time for it, after all.

Instead, he pressed a shaky hand to my stomach. I sucked in a breath, like it was more than just a simple touch, because it was. A physical, undeniable acknowledgment.

“In another life,” he said softly, and he didn’t need to finish the thought.

“In another life,” I echoed, surprising myself with how honest the words felt.

Wordlessly, we found our way over to the rooftop garden. I took the blanket from my shoulders and spread it out for us to lay on, Finnick going first and tugging me after him. He tucked me against his chest, inside of his jacket, and the warmth of his bare skin was an immediate comfort.

For a while, we stayed just like that, the only movement from Finnick’s fingers as he carefully undid my braids and brushed through my hair. The air was scented with florals from the flowers around us. Many stories below, there was still a commotion. Not the typical excitement for the Games, but almost a panic. Good, I thought. Let them worry for once, in the limited way they could.

I couldn’t say who moved first, but before long we were kissing, tuning out the rest of the world. Slowly, despite everything, our kisses and caresses grew more heated. In the time between one blink and the next, Finnick was kneeling between my legs, his head tucked underneath my shift.

There was no denying I needed this. We were both wound too tightly, our very bones aching with the stress of tomorrow. The press of Finnick’s tongue was met with my mewls, my hips rolling forward. My muscles clenched tighter and tighter until I finally snapped, transforming from a ball of tension into a ball of pleasure.

When I could catch my breath, my hand somehow found its way into Finnick's impossibly tight pants, the outline of his need almost comically apparent. He insisted I didn’t have to, but any protest died on his tongue, still coated in my release, once I got a hold on him. I kissed his neck as I worked him; his hand clenched around my hair until he finally got his own much needed release.

Eventually, we made our way back down to 12’s suite. I refused to let go of Finnick’s hand, afraid someone would take him from me. Still in our interview makeup and otherwise . . . sticky, we took a hot shower before climbing into my bed, both of us naked and loose-limbed for the first time in days. Pressed together under the blankets, skin to skin, I actually managed to get a bit of sleep.

At dawn, knowing our parting was imminent, we kissed until we were breathless.

“I love you,” Finnick whispered between kisses, so naturally it could’ve been his hundredth time saying it.

But I knew from my own surprise it was the first.

No, not the first. Somewhere deep in the recess of my mind, I knew he’d said it before. Maybe while I was sleeping, maybe just in a dream.

It didn’t matter, because of course Finnick loved me. Of course I loved him. Maybe we had been too afraid to say it out loud, to make it real, but this love had been between us for a long time now. Part of me felt like I’d loved him from the first day I’d met him, as impossible as that was.

I knew he loved me in the way he carefully took out my braids, in the way he held me like I was the most important thing in the world. Like he needed me.

Suddenly, I was angry at myself, at both of us, for waiting this long.

“I love you,” I gasped, like I couldn’t get it out fast enough. His lips were against mine again, and he must have felt the same way I did, because he was murmuring the words over and over against my mouth, pressing them into my skin.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

We were still wrapped up like this, hopelessly and foolishly drowning in our doomed love, when they came to take him from me.

It was fitting that Cinna was the last person I saw before entering the arena where I would die.

I didn’t see Finnick the rest of the morning once he was escorted back down to his room, didn’t even see Haymitch or Effie. Probably, I should have said goodbye to the latter, but I didn’t have it in me to feel bad about it.

Like last year, Cinna had taken me to the roof, where we boarded the waiting hovercraft and a doctor injected my tracker. It took us to the Launch Room, where Cinna helped me dress and braided my hair. The arena outfit was quite different from what I wore last year, a thin blue jumpsuit that didn’t tell me much about the environment we’d be in. Lastly, Cinna pinned on my golden mockingjay, though I had a feeling he was going against the rules by doing so. It reminded me of one thing.

“My dress last night was beautiful,” I told him, a knowing look passing between us. Beautiful and dangerous.

“Prepare to launch,” the familiar electronic voice rang out sooner than I would have liked. In other words, time to go. Cinna walked me over to a metal plate, where a glass cylinder would bring me to my doom, and met my eyes.

“I’m still betting on you, girl on fire,” he said softly, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

I couldn’t think about the words too hard or I might have done something stupid like cry. Instead I nodded just as Cinna stepped back and the glass cylinder closed around me. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and waited to be lifted into the arena, waited for all of this to feel real, rather than the terrible nightmare it actually felt like.

But nothing happened.

Opening my eyes, I found Cinna and raised a brow, expressing my confusion. But he was just as confused as I was.

Unease swept over me, different from the kind that came from entering the Games. Something was wrong, and I only had a split second to realize what it might be when the door banged open.

Part of me wanted to close my eyes, to pretend none of this was happening. But I couldn’t be that much of a coward. Instead my fists banged against the glass, vibrating with my punches and my screams, as I watched Cinna crumple. Of course they had waited until I was contained to beat him, bloody and unconscious. Snow knew well enough that I would have put my body between Cinna and the Peacekeepers.

Only once they dragged him out, leaving bloody smears in their wake, did I finally start to rise. With frantic breaths, I wiped at my face until it was as clear as it could be. Still, I doubted I would appear calm and collected as I’d hoped.

The very first thought I had in the arena was bright. My eyes blinked hard as I tried to get a handle on where I was. Bright, blue, hot. But it wasn’t completely disorienting. I’d been somewhere like this before, and suddenly, I couldn’t help but laugh. I must have looked like a deranged woman to the audience, with the tears in my eyes and the twitch on my lips.

I was completely surrounded by water, and while it may be no place for a girl on fire, it was the perfect place for Finnick. Intended or not, Snow was giving me exactly what I wanted.

Once my brief moment of mania passed, it took everything in me to push aside the images of Cinna’s broken body and concentrate on the arena. To ignore Claudius Templesmith welcoming everyone to the 75th Games and use my precious minute to map out a plan. I was terrified and unhinged, but when the gong sounded, I dove into the water. Swimming in Four’s ocean all those months ago was turning out to be a wonderful advantage.

I swam to the strip of sand nearest me, then bolted down it in the direction of the Cornucopia. It was strange going straight to the center of the bloodbath when I had run the other way last year. But I was playing like a Career this time around, and it felt good to grab the shining golden bow waiting for me there.

The air shifted behind me. Already I was spinning around with an arrow nocked and ready, but just as quickly, I lowered my bow with a breath of relief. Finnick, already with a trident in one hand and a net in the other, stood glowing in the blinding sun. His face, though, was set in a hard line and his eyes were looking just behind me.

“Duck!” Finnick ordered in a tone I’d never heard from him. My body acted before my mind had fully processed his command, and I could only watch as his trident soared in a beautiful arc above me, burying into the chest of the male tribute from District 5. Finnick moved with a grace I knew he had but still couldn’t quite believe, yanking his trident out of the fallen tribute. For one, brief flash, I saw the fourteen-year-old version of him I’d watched on tape a week ago. To think he was even deadlier now, fully grown into his body, made me shiver.

Maybe I really could get him out of this place alive.

There was no time for more than a nod between us, though I wanted nothing more than to wrap him in my arms. “I’ll check this side,” I offered, and moved before he could argue. All of the Cornucopia goods this year were piled here in the center. As I scanned my side of it, I saw weapons of all kinds, and only weapons. I called out to Finnick, reporting my findings, and he answered that it was the same for him.

The weapons were nice, and we both loaded up, but I couldn’t help but miss my backpack and its assortment of goods from last year. Though I was relieved I wouldn’t need to rip a bow out of any dead hands.

Together again, Finnick and I circled the little island that contained the Cornucopia until we found our missing teammates. As we moved, I found myself firing off arrows at Enobaria, Brutus, and Gloss, but only the latter landed, and only in his upper thigh. To my surprise, when we found Haymitch, he was just reaching the sand strip. Mags was on the plate to the other side, and paddled out to join us as we ran down the strip.

I reached Haymitch just in time to help pull him out of the water. Finnick did the same for Mags. “How do you know . . .” I trailed off, looking from Haymitch to the water. Of course Mags knew how to swim, being from 4. But Haymitch?

He only huffed and motioned for me to share my hoard of weapons. I handed over some knives. “The same way you do, I expect,” Haymitch answered.

I wanted badly to interrogate him more on this, but the Careers were at the Cornucopia now, gathering their own weapons. There was no time to chat.

“Let’s get out of here,” Finnick said, scooping Mags onto his back like she weighed nothing. As a group, we ran from the sand into the thick greenery that lined it.

Though I was used to being under towering treetops, the forest here was nothing like my woods back home. This was much more like what I had seen watching Finnick’s Games, jungle still the best word I had for it. It was a relief to be out of the sun, but I was still sweating as if I were directly under it. My thirst grew the longer we moved, quickly shifting from a run to a walk, and it immediately brought back memories of my dehydration last year, which only made my tongue drier.

For a while, Haymitch led us steadily through the jungle, using the long knife I gave him to cut through any vegetation in our path. The farther we went without water, though, the more we all tired, and his slashes soon became half-hearted. Finnick offered to take over for a bit, Mags insisting she could walk while he did. It slowed our pace even more, but none of us could be bothered enough to care. It was doubtful that any of the others could have gotten as far as we had already, and if they did, I supposed Finnick and I would simply fight them off 'til the bloody end.

Taking up the rear with my bow nocked and ready, I kept my eyes moving, scanning every inch we walked for a hint of fresh water.

“See anything yet, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked, walking side by side with Mags so she could lean on him when she needed to. The path was narrow, but Mags was tiny.

I shook my head. “No,” I said, unable to mask my defeat.

“We’ll find it,” Finnick called back to me as he continued lashing out with the knife. “Maybe we’re just on the wrong side.”

Just as his words reached me, I saw it, the tiny glitch I had been looking for on the rooftop last night. Was that really only last night? Somehow, the day had already felt like a lifetime.

Dehydrated and exhausted, my brain wasn’t working fast enough, taking too long to connect what I was seeing with what I knew it meant. Taking too long to call out to Finnick, to stop him. His name was finally leaving my lips when his body went hurtling backwards.

Dropping my bow completely, I rushed to him, falling to my knees at his side. “Finnick?” I shook his shoulders, gave his cheek a tiny smack. “Finnick!” I tried again, like he might wake up if I just screamed loud enough.

Somehow I knew before I checked that he’d stopped breathing. Knew before I pressed my ear to his chest that his heart had stopped beating. But I let out a strangled cry anyway.

I began to shake him harder, begging him to wake up, at a loss that I had lost him so quickly. No, no, no, no, no. It was my only thought, repeated like a mantra, because I had nothing else in my arsenal, nothing else that could help him. “Please,” I whispered, and that’s when Mags and Haymitch came up on his other side. Mags gently pushed me away, but I wouldn’t listen, so Haymitch took me by the shoulders and dragged me back.

“No!” I cried, but neither of them were paying me any attention.

With a careful hand, Mags pinched the bridge of Finnick’s nose and . . . kissed him? A moment passed where I wondered if this was some strange District 4 death ritual, but then I saw his lungs inflate and understood.

Mags, apparently not trusting her own strength, motioned Haymitch over, put his hands in place atop Finnick’s chest, and mimed with her own what she wanted him to do. Haymitch nodded in understanding, and based on the confidence in his movements, he’d seen this done before. After a moment, I realized I had, too, though only a handful of times. I could see my mother now, leaning over a patient in our kitchen, working her hands in a steady rhythm.

The rhythm seemed to be important, because Mags corrected Haymitch a couple times here and there. I could only watch as they worked in tandem, a series of stops and starts. Hands and air, hands and air. I grew more desperate as the minutes passed, tears streaming steadily down my face. He’s gone, I told myself, because the hope alone would kill me. He’s gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

I realized then that I had truly believed I would die first, that I would never have to see this moment. Finnick, beautiful even in death. Memories played like a film in my head, a series of firsts. The first time we met, the first time we kissed. The first time he held me after we made love. That brief stretch of time when I’d been happier than I ever thought possible. I should have known by then that my end would be as brutal as possible, that Snow would make sure I had lost everything before I was allowed the sweet relief of my own death. My mind spun over these thoughts, a repeated torture.

And then, with a forceful cough, his eyes opened.

Finnick

Salty air tickled my nose. A soft breeze ruffled my hair. When I opened my eyes, the sky was bruised with pink and purple. Sunset. My hands, searching for purchase to lift myself up, were met with warm sand. Sitting up slowly, I realized I was alone on the beach.

No, not alone.

Out on the waves, a small boat was paddling towards the shore. Farther back, just barely visible, was an island, two people waving from the shoreline. Or maybe I was the one on the island. I didn’t have time to consider it further, because as the boat grew closer, I realized who was on it.

I stood so fast I nearly fell right back down.

“Mama?” I whispered in disbelief. In the back of my mind, a warning sign was flashing. This can’t be real. But I was already running.

I reached her just as she stepped out of the boat, water splashing at our ankles. Though I had grown taller than her, she held me just like she had when I was a child, my head tucked under her chin. It was impossible — yet she felt the same, smelled the same, sea salt and gardenia. Sounded the same as she rubbed my back and sighed, “Hi, my sweet boy.”

Four simple words, and I was a boy again, sobbing against my mother’s chest. “I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t remember the last time I let myself cry this hard, this openly. “It’s all my fault.”

“Shh,” my mother cooed. Her ginger hair, the reason my own hair tinted with red highlights deep in the summertime, tickled my cheek. “None of that now.”

My mother pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, wiping away lingering tears with her thumb. I wanted to take hold of her hand and keep it pressed against my skin, so that I might never forget the feeling again. “We’re so proud of you, Finnick.”

I wanted to ask how that possibly could be, but I didn’t know how much time we had and I wouldn’t waste a second.

Instead, in a shaky voice, I asked, “Papa and Mare?” Though I already knew. They were the ones waiting on the opposite shore.

“They send their love.”

“Can’t we go see them?”

The boat still waited in the water. It would be so easy to climb in and paddle to where my father and sister sat, watching in the distance.

But my mother smiled sadly. “Not yet, baby.” She knelt in the water, and though I didn’t understand why, I knelt with her. “It’s not your time.”

I shook my head. “It is,” I pleaded, sounding as weak as I felt. “Mama, I’m so tired.”

“I know, sweetheart.” I felt time slipping between my fingers as my mother brushed her own through my hair, pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. “But you have to go back to her, you’ve got much more to do.”

There was no time to ask what she meant by back or her. My mother brought her hands to my shoulders, and with an almost inhuman strength, shoved me under the water. I had just enough time to close my eyes, but my mouth remained ajar in a protest that never passed my lips.

I came to with a harsh cough, still tasting salt water on my tongue.

For a moment, I saw my mother hovering over me, though she had aged. I blinked and it was Mags, looking worn but smiling. Beside her was Haymitch, who somehow looked both relieved and annoyed, cursing under his breath.

“Finnick?”

On my other side, though further away, was Katniss, body shaking and face tear-stained.

In a flash, it all came back to me. The Games, this jungle hell. The force field that I’d stuck a knife into, the electricity jolting every nerve in my body. The plan to get Katniss out, which I was already fucking up terribly, almost dying only a few hours in.

My throat was dryer than it had ever been, but I managed to croak out, aiming for levity, “Just a heads up, there’s a force field back there.”

Katniss closed the distance between us, her hands moving like twin inspectors, brushing back the hair on my forehead and feeling for the pulse in my neck. Like she didn’t quite believe what her eyes were seeing. A moment later, I understood why.

“You were dead!” she cried, a second round of tears spilling past her lashes. “Your heart stopped!” She was far too loud, too panicked for the arena, choking on her own sobs.

Frowning, I took her hand and placed it firmly against my chest. “Feel that? It’s started again.” When she only cried harder, I moved my thumb in a soothing circle over her hand. “It’s okay, Katniss. I’m okay.”

Haymitch scoffed, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Blame yourself, kid. It’s the damn hormones from that baby you put in her.”

“It’s not!” Katniss protested, which only let another sob sneak out.

I shot Haymitch a glare, then opened my arms. “Come here,” I said, and Katniss crumpled against me. I held her as tightly as I could in my weakened state, though part of me was still back in that strange place, holding onto my mother.

Realistically, I knew it hadn’t been real, only the workings of a dying mind. I didn’t believe in an afterlife. Death was a finality, an almost certain nothingness. But I couldn’t deny, real or not, how good it had felt to be back in my mother’s arms.

I took one last moment, let the feeling soak in like a balm for the soul, then let it all go. Let my mother go.

There was a Game I needed to focus on.

Katniss pulled back just enough to press a sloppy, snotty kiss to my lips. It’s corny to say that it revived me, but it was the truth. With help, I managed to sit up. Mags offered Katniss some moss pulled off a tree to blow her nose into. What an odd little group we made.

“We should keep moving,” Haymitch said, apparently over the sob fest. “We need to find water.”

“No!” Katniss replied immediately. “He needs to rest.”

“He can speak for himself,” I said, raising a brow.

Katniss flushed but didn’t back down. “Need I remind you that you were dead.”

“I’m fine,” I started, earning a look from her that had me backtracking. “Okay, I’m not fine, but I’ll be all right if we go slowly. Haymitch is right, we need water.”

There was no arguing with that, as much as Katniss might have wanted to, so on we went. Katniss led, both because she was the strongest of us and because she could somehow sense the force field. She claimed she could hear it, but I could tell that was a lie for the Capitol. If I got out of here with her, I’d have to ask for the truth.

I found walking sticks for myself and Mags. Haymitch took up the rear. If someone had told me months ago he’d end up the stronger one between the two of us, I would have laughed them off.

A very odd group indeed.

By nightfall, we’d moved little and made no progress on the water. My weakness meant letting Katniss out of my sight far too much for my liking, once to climb up a tree and another to hunt. Her climbing at least informed us of the arena’s shape. A complete circle. And though she found no water on her hunt, she did find some kind of large rodent with a wet mouth. So the water was somewhere.

The most I contributed was picking tall blades of grass with Mags to make mats that we formed into a small hut for our campsite. Katniss was impressed on her return, but I couldn’t help but feel useless when I was supposed to be strong.

With the night came the reveal of the day’s dead tributes. Eight in total. Eight people who I had gotten to know, in some fashion, over the last ten years. It was harder to watch than I’d anticipated, and it’s quiet between all of us for a long while afterwards. I couldn’t help but wonder who among them was in on the plan. Seeder, almost certainly. Cecilia and Woof were likely candidates, too.

The silence was only interrupted when a silver parachute came floating down with a soft whoosh. As desperate as we all were for water, none of us moved until Haymitch finally scooped it up. Inside was a small metal . . . something. I shot a look at Katniss, who looked just as confused as I did. A moment later, Haymitch laughed and actually ran to the nearest tree.

“What is it?” I called as we all followed him, but he ignored the question.

“Help me drill into this tree!”

Though we were all confused, Haymitch’s confidence had us moving without further inquiry. It took time, but taking turns with our array of weapons, we eventually got a hole to Haymitch’s liking. He stuck the metal thing into the tree.

“Oh!” Katniss chirped, catching on to whatever was going on here. Mags and I remained clueless, waiting.

We waited so long that I almost yanked the thing back out in frustration. And then, miraculously, water.

After we’d all had our fill — and Katniss explained the metal device was called a spile, used to get sap out of trees, trees we certainly did not have in 4 — we settled in for the night. Haymitch volunteered to take the first watch, which felt like a terrible idea. But I couldn’t deny I needed to rest, and I wanted Katniss to, too. Tucked in with my trident on one side and Katniss on the other, I pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, then closed my eyes. I was exhausted enough to knock out almost immediately.

A few hours, which felt more like minutes, later I woke with a start. Beside me, Katniss did the same. Our hands went to our weapons as the noise that had woken us rang out again, like someone was banging on a gong.

“Twelve rings,” Haymitch muttered thoughtfully once the tolling stopped.

“For what?” Katniss asked, but none of us had an answer. I wished I could get Haymitch alone, somewhere the Gamemakers couldn’t hear, and ask if it meant something to the plan. But that wasn’t an option.

In the distance, lightning struck a large tree.

“Strange,” I muttered.

Once we all felt certain there was no current threat, Katniss stood. “I’ll take the next watch.”

“I can do it,” I offered, which only earned me a glare.

“You need to build your strength back. I’m taking it.”

I almost countered with and you’re pregnant, but there were too many sharp objects in her reach, and for now, I still valued my life.

“Fine, but don’t wait until morning to wake me.”

In her defense, she didn’t.

The next few hours were some of the worst of my life. They almost didn’t feel real, like I had been play acting a nightmare, performing in scenes specifically written to haunt me ‘til the day I died.

”Run!”

I didn’t think I would ever forget the sound of Katniss’s scream, an instant, terrifying alarm clock that already had me moving before she even mentioned the fog. For a split second, I stopped to look at it. Sure enough, a heavy fog was rolling in. It would look menacing even outside the arena, but in it? It was like looking death in the eye.

If I hadn’t paused for that single second, would things have gone differently?

Mags hadn’t even woken yet when I hauled her onto my back and ran. In my head, I was back in my first Games, all animal instinct, thinking of nothing but getting away. Only when I felt Mags adjust, already having forgotten that I even had her on my back, did I remember I wasn’t alone this time. I wasn’t even playing for myself.

One glance back and my stomach sank. Katniss had fallen back, insisting on helping Haymitch, just like I had known she would. It wasn’t his fault, really. The fog, which had started to affect my own nerves, somehow both painful and numbing, had made one of his legs useless.

Katniss met my eyes with a look of desperation. “Trade?”

We need to leave him, I thought but did not say. I knew Katniss too well, knew that she wouldn’t leave somebody she loved behind. Especially not after she’d lost Peeta.

I nodded, because what other choice was there? Haymitch could always leave himself behind, but I knew he was trying to stick around for Katniss’s sake. Knew that he was important to the escape plan. So I shifted Mags onto Katniss’s back and slung Haymitch over mine the best I could.

“I’m sorry,” he panted. At the time, I thought he was only apologizing for slowing us down. A few minutes later, I would understand there was more to it.

I didn’t reply, too focused on moving, on ignoring the pain, on not panicking as my own limbs sickened from the drops of poison. Too focused on listening for the sound of Katniss’s retreating footsteps behind me, until suddenly, they stopped.

As I turned and rushed back to them, I knew what Haymitch had really been apologizing for.

Katniss was on the ground, panting. Mags rolled off her back. Her crinkled eyes met mine and already I was shaking my head.

My voice trembled, only partially from the physical pain. “No, please, Mags. Not yet.”

Not yet, because I’d entered the arena knowing this would happen. Hope as I might for a miracle, deep down I knew. I just hadn’t thought it would happen so soon.

Mags only smiled and came to press a kiss to my cheek. I wanted to reach for her, hold her tight to my chest, but my arms had stopped working. So instead I watched her walk into the fog. The cannon followed almost immediately.

I wanted so badly to join her, to embrace death with my head held high like she had. Go back to that strange beach, get in the boat with my two mothers and paddle away. See my father, my sister.

“Finnick!”

Katniss’s voice snapped me out of my hazy death fantasy. And then, somehow, my mother’s voice from earlier. You still have more to do.

A nod was all that I could give her. My throat was closing up, and I knew no words would come. Even if I could speak, only a choked sob would come out. Once Katniss was back up, we started running again. Haymitch still clung to my back, his arms around my neck the only thing holding him as my own arms were useless. The more I pushed myself, the more the poison seemed to act, and I was using every muscle, every drop of adrenaline that I had.

I pushed and pushed until I couldn’t any more, toppling to the ground with Haymitch on top of me. So this is it. Faintly, I remembered the rebellion, knew that I should try to keep moving. But even my brain was shutting down. Sorry Panem, I thought as my eyes closed. Better luck next time.

All I knew was pain. I was trying so hard to slip deep into my mind and escape it, so I barely noticed when Katniss tripped over our fallen bodies. Could barely lift my head to confirm it when she croaked out, “It stopped.”

Haymitch rolled off me, giving me enough strength to look. Sure enough, the fog had become a solid wall behind us, trapped by some invisible force. All I could do was moan in response. I watched as Haymitch moved first, crawling down the slope I had been leading us to, where the beach waited below.

Oddly enough, seeing the old man move gave me an ounce of strength to propel myself after him, Katniss by my side. The sand, once we reached it, was like a familiar friend. I reached for the water, the place I felt most at home, then immediately pulled back.

I wanted to scream but my throat wouldn’t allow it. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop. A cry that repeated in my head in response to the pain, pain so terrible it seemed impossible I was still alive to feel it. And it had come from touching the water.

I will die on this beach. At least Katniss was still alive. I could hear her and Haymitch, just barely, whimpering but able to force themselves into the water. Haymitch would help her, they would find Johanna and Beetee and Wiress. The plan could still work.

Sweet relief was calling to me in the recess of my mind and I jumped for it. The air was changing, a soft breeze against my skin, and it didn’t hurt. Yes, I thought. Take me.

I was almost there, a fingertip away, and then the pain came rushing back in. No, no, no, I cried, but in actuality, only a rugged moan passed my lips. Somehow, the water had reached my hands. Then, fresh air on my legs and back, but this breeze was not painless. More water, more pain. I was being dragged away from the place in my mind and I couldn’t even fight it.

No, I was being physically dragged.

It took until the water had reached my chest for my eyes to finally open. I took in Haymitch first, who was looking at me with more concern than I’d ever seen from him. Then I looked up, realizing Katniss had my head cradled in her lap, murmuring soft apologies as she brushed her fingers through my hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Only then did I realize that the water, as torturous as it felt, was helping.

“Your head is the worst part, but then you’ll feel so much better, okay?” she said gently, like coaxing a scared child. It killed me that she was having to take care of me again.

My voice was still beyond my reach, but I managed the tiniest nod to confirm that I understood. Haymitch came to my other side. I held one of his hands and one of Katniss’s for strength before plunging underneath the water.

Katniss was right, this part was the worst. I screamed even though I knew I shouldn’t, choking on pain and salt water. Still, I stayed under as long as I could before I had no choice but to come back up, coughing louder than I ought to. Though I must have been doing better if I could remember that I needed to be quiet.

“I’m gonna tap a tree,” Haymitch said, leaving Katniss and I alone.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was still too raw. Katniss nodded in understanding.

“You’ll feel better the longer you’re in the water. Let’s stay in a while.”

So we did, sometimes staying close, holding one another, other times floating apart. She was right, the more time that passed the better I felt. Soon I didn’t only feel better, I felt good. Renewed. Swimming around like a fish again, guzzling the salty water til my throat opened up. Finally, I could hold myself under the water for as long as I usually could. When I popped up beside Katniss, I was met with a scowl and a splashing. “Don’t worry me like that!”

I managed the smallest smile and kissed her cheek. “Sorry, darling.”

Katniss sighed, softening, and threw her arms around my neck. “I missed your voice.”

I held her tighter. “Thank you for helping me get it back.”

We were interrupted then by Haymitch calling out to us, a shouted whisper. “Would you two get off each other and come look at this.”

“I thought you were tapping a tree,” Katniss asked once we reached the shore and climbed out of the water, grabbing our weapons — I was lucky that Haymitch had held onto one of my tridents when I’d lost the ability to hold anything. Only then did I realize my jumpsuit had been cut off of me, leaving me in only my under clothes. Katniss and Haymitch had lost theirs, too.

“Almost did, ‘til I noticed them.”

We stood on the edge of the beach, just beyond the jungle. Haymitch pointed up. Without thinking, my trident was poised and ready. But the monkeys looking down at us didn’t move, keeping to the trees.

It was still dark out, but luckily, these monkeys had very odd orange fur that made them stand out against the darkness of the jungle.

“Do you think they’re dangerous?” Katniss asked.

Haymitch snorted. “I’ve dealt with more mutts than I have tributes, and there were double of us. Of course they’re dangerous.”

“Why aren’t they coming onto the beach?”

Haymitch looked my way and shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Should I shoot one?”

I shook my head, feeling equipped to answer that one. “Better to leave them alone, see if they leave. But we should stay ready.”

We waited, weapons ready.

And waited.

We had time to notice the scabs forming on our skin where the fog had touched. Ugly little things, and itchy.

“Don’t scratch,” Katniss warned, as if reading my mind. “It’ll cause infection.”

Still we waited, only now being driven slowly mad by our skin.

“Maybe they stay in this part of the jungle,” Katniss offered, irritation noticeable in her tone. “We could move on, find a tree farther away.

I was nodding in agreement when Haymitch called out, “Wait. Look.”

Sure enough, the monkeys were retreating. We all held our breath until it felt certain that the monkeys were gone. I looked at Haymitch, the look on his face so concentrated I could almost hear his mind working.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’ll work on the tree. You two cover me in case they come back. Then back to the beach.” Haymitch nodded, as if confirming his own plan to himself. “I don’t think they can leave the jungle.”

Katniss and I exchanged glances. Neither of us seemed to have a better idea, so we followed the old man’s lead. When it came to the Games, he had more experience than the two of us combined.

Without our help, it took some time for Haymitch to drill the spile in. I was on edge the whole time, my eyes scanning the trees with a deadly focus. But the monkeys never returned, and we were all able to take turns getting our fill of the warm tree water.

Back at the beach, as the adrenaline finally left my system completely, the events of the last couple hours hit me harder than any of those monkeys could have. Standing at the edge of the water, I looked out at the waves. Like a castle of sand that had been slowly crumbling, I knew the next current would break me down completely.

So when Katniss suggested we rest and offered to take the first watch, I shook my head. “Let me, please.”

I knew she could see it all in my face, that the Capitol audience was seeing it too. Finnick Odair, once a confident and cocky victor, left fragile and weak.

She hesitated, likely wanting to comfort me. To hold me through the worst of it, like we’d usually do for each other. But I shook my head again before she could offer. Some walks you had to take alone. “Please, sleep.”

“Okay,” she said finally, joining Haymitch, who had already spread out and drifted off, or pretended to.

Then I was alone, left to replay the worst hours of my life.

I wanted nothing more than to sink into the ocean, to let the waves wash over me like my memories of Mags were washing over my mind. But I had to stay somewhat alert, and so instead, I got to work.

And as I worked, I cried.

I cried as I plucked more grass and made more mats, thinking of how Mags and I had been doing just this only hours ago. Finding branches, I used them to hold up the mats, covering my two sleeping companions. The sun was finally coming up, and it wouldn’t do any of us any good to add burns on top of our damaged skin.

I cried as I weaved more grass into small bowls, something Mags had taught me how to do herself. Finding another tree to drill into, I filled each with water.

I cried as I fished for shellfish, thinking of how I used to do this with Mags and Annie back home. The thought of Annie made me cry harder. Was she watching me now, crying with me? Had she been able to survive watching Mags walk into that fog? I pictured her on our old couch, holding Goose. In my absence, I hoped he was a comfort.

When Katniss woke, it was midmorning. I had my pile of shellfish in front of me, half of them unshelled and piled into another grass bowl, and was thankfully cried out. She looked around with wide eyes. I supposed I had been busy, and my eyes were probably still quite puffy.

“Good morning,” I said, working on another shellfish. This one, though, popped directly into my mouth.

Katniss looked at me, puzzled, and I nodded to the bowl. “They’re best fresh. Although,” I paused, frowning. “I should probably cook yours.”

“Why mine specifically? I can handle it.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” I met her eyes, then looked pointedly at her stomach.

I wasn’t surprised that she responded with a scowl before stuffing the fish into her mouth. Well, at least she was eating something. I went back to my work, breaking the shell of another, watching as Katniss examined the state of her fingernails with a frown. Both her and Haymitch had been scratching at their scabs in their sleep. I couldn’t help my smirk.

“You know, if you scratch you’ll invite infection.”

“So I’ve heard,” Katniss grumbled, stomping off to the water to wash her bloody fingernails. A moment later, I heard her yelling at the sky, asking — or demanding, really — her appointed mentor for medicine. I almost expected Lyme to ignore her until she asked nicely, but almost instantly a parachute came floating down. Inside was a foul smelling medicine. It looked even worse on our skin, but the relief from the itching was too good to be vain.

Katniss grinned at me. “Poor baby, is this the first time you haven’t been pretty?”

“Must be, it’s an entirely new sensation.” I pouted and crawled over to her, my face only inches from hers. “But am I still pretty enough for you, darling?”

Katniss sighed; we were close enough that I felt it on my lips. “Unfortunately.”

I grinned and kissed her. She let out a soft little hum as our lips danced. We were covered in hideous, reeking medicine, on a fake beach with endless people and mutts alike ready to kill us, but in that one precious moment I forgot about all of it.

“Gee, what a great alliance I have.” Haymitch’s voice popped the bubble. We broke apart like teenagers caught by a parent. “Under a watch like this, I couldn’t be safer!”

He must have gotten a proper look at our skin then, because he grimaced. “What the hell happened to your faces?” Haymitch looked down at his own hands, as if worried it was a delayed reaction from the fog.

Katniss scowled. “I should let you stay itchy!”

But of course, she didn’t.

For a while, things were calm. We ate the shellfish with bread sent from my district — I supposed the show Katniss and I had put on earlier had worked in our favor, though neither of us had been doing it for the audience.

Though I should have said things were relatively calm.

Not long after eating, Katniss jumped up so fast I thought we were under attack. I grabbed my trident and scanned our surroundings, only to realize Katniss had left her own weapon behind. She stood at the edge of the water, hunched over.

Haymitch kicked my foot with his own. “Go be a good husband and hold her hair back.”

I glared at him. “I’d like you to know that I was going to do that anyway.” Still, I brought my trident just in case.

She was about done when I reached her, and her braid had stayed nicely out of her way, so I rubbed her back instead. Just when we’d both thought she had gotten it all out, another wave hit. I felt so terribly guilty, my mouth half open with an apology on my tongue, but I couldn’t make this about me.

“We’ll cook yours from now on,” I told her gently instead. “And you can have all the bread, if you would rather avoid fish entirely.”

Katniss groaned, looking truly green. “Please don’t say the F word.”

I decided then that it was best to just shut up and hold her, and I did just that.

When the nausea finally subsided, I helped her clean up. Fetched some tree water for her to sip at and little bites of the leftover bread to nibble on until she felt better. I knew she did when she started to curl her body against mine, resting her head on my chest.

“Okay?” I asked anyway, brushing a stray hair from her forehead.

Katniss gave my hand a squeeze. “Okay.”

Of course, even a relative calm could never last in the Games.

In the distance, someone screamed. Across from us on the other side of the arena, a massive wave washed over a section of the jungle. A cannon fired. The wave was so strong it sent the surf up to our knees, forcing us to race after our weapons.

I couldn’t help but think about Annie again, remembering the wave from her Games that had both helped her win and wrecked her mind. It wouldn’t be easy for her to see, wasn’t even easy for me to see, so I hoped she wasn’t watching.

Then, down the beach came voices. Three people staggering out of the jungle. Well, one of them was dragging another, really. An angry person, yet they weren’t killing their companions. Shoving them in annoyance, yes, but not killing. That was when I realized, a smile lighting my face.

“Johanna!”

“Finnick!”

I rushed toward my friend before Katniss could convince me not to. She wouldn’t like teaming up with her. I had gotten the impression she didn’t like Johanna at all, which to be fair, the feeling seemed mutual. But for better or worse, Johanna was a part of the plan, and I was relieved to have a little more help seeing it through. Even better, as I got closer, I realized she had Beetee and Wiress with her.

All of them were covered in some thick red liquid that looked very much like blood.

As Johanna explained what happened — the blood rain and losing her district partner Blight to the force field — I felt Katniss and Haymitch join us. At least Katniss will be happy to have Beetee and Wiress, I thought, hoping it would warm her to Johanna, when Johanna gave the older woman a shove, tired of her constant circles and repetition of the same two words. Tick tock, tick tock.

Which, of course, Katniss responded to immediately.

“Lay off her!” she snapped, which only got Johanna angrier.

“Lay off her?” Johanna hissed, looking ready to pounce. “I got them for you!” At this admission, Haymitch and I shared a quick, almost imperceptible glance of panic. Johanna had a mouth without a filter, so much so I almost couldn’t believe Plutarch had involved her.

Before she could say anything worse, I slung her over my shoulder and into the water, leaving Haymitch and Katniss behind to help Beetee and Wiress. Better to let Haymitch handle things if Katniss asked what Johanna had meant by that, too.

Johanna cursed repeatedly as I dunked her into the sea, again and again. It was part clean up, part punishment. “Get. It. Together!” Each word was said with another dunk. I kept hold of her until she finally calmed down enough that I trusted letting her go.

“Whatever,” Johanna grumbled as she washed the last of the blood off, but there was no venom in it. I could see she was tired more than anything. Understandable, especially when they hadn’t had water. She gave me an overview, taking in my peeling skin, and huffed. “You look terrible, by the way.”

“Happy to see you too, Johanna.”

After our new allies were cleaned up and given plenty of water and shellfish, Katniss ordered me to rest. I couldn’t argue, knowing that I needed it, but it was a relief, despite everything that had just happened, when Johanna volunteered to stay on watch with her. As impulsive as she could be, Johanna was strong, and I was confident that she would protect Katniss if it came down to it. No matter how begrudgingly she did so.

A few hours later, I was once again woken by a frantic Katniss.

But she wasn’t screaming this time, and there seemed to be an almost giddy fervor in the way she woke us. Once we were all conscious — including Johanna, who had apparently decided Katniss was fine to watch over them after Wiress had woken too, damn her — Katniss explained her theory as we packed up our things. Huh, I thought. A clock made a lot of sense, and if she was right . . .

“It’s almost time for that fog again,” I said, shivering at the thought of feeling that pain again, physically and emotionally.

“Exactly,” Katniss said, frowning at the memory. “Where should we go?”

“I’d like to get a look from the Cornucopia, if that’s all right.”

No one disagreed with me, so we prepared to make our way. Only Beetee had us pausing, insisting on something about a wire, which only made Johanna roll her eyes and stalk off further down the beach. When she returned, it was with some kind of coil in her hands. The wire Beetee must have been speaking of.

“He’s been clutching this stupid thing the whole time. Even got attacked because he ran for it at the Cornucopia. No clue why, it seems worthless.”

Immediately, I knew these were the wrong words. Johanna was likely trying to downplay the thing to the Capitol. She would have no idea that Katniss had been watching the previous Games in preparation.

Haymitch must have sensed the same thing, because he attempted to cut in before Katniss could. “Well, we better get—”

“That’s how he won his Games. That wire is a life saver to him,” Katniss said anyway, shooting a suspicious glare in Johanna’s direction. “You should know that, since you coined him Volts.”

Johanna glared right back. “Right, my mistake. I suppose I was distracted, keeping your little friends alive, while you were, what? Getting Mags killed off?”

I understood Johanna’s need for defense, something nasty enough to distract from her second slip up. But using Mags was too far and she had to know that. Before I could say just that, Katniss took a step forward, the anger roiling off her body palpable. Her fingers gripped the knife at her belt.

“Go ahead, try it,” Johanna laughed without humor. “I don’t care if you are knocked up, I’ll rip your throat out.”

“Johanna!” I hissed, stepping in between them before Katniss could send the knife flying. Johanna’s eyes met mine, narrowed in anger, but there was something else there too. Hurt that she was trying to hide, hurt that I had chosen Katniss over her. But what else did she expect? Katniss was my fiance, and that was my child she was threatening.

For a moment, I imagined how different things could have been, a time in which my friendship with Johanna would have taken precedence. If I had never gone to that party, never given Katniss my number. Maybe in that world, they let both Katniss and Peeta win the Games. I would have only known Katniss for a week, though I was certain I still would have been recruited for the rebel plan. We would have entered the Games without the love and trust we had now. I would have spent all my time trying to earn that trust.

Would I have had the same attraction I did now, that I think part of me always had, if she had won the Games with Peeta? If she had come out not only with the title of Victor, but with a lover she would be expected to keep for life? Especially if that lover was here, with her?

I at least felt a little flush of shame as I answered myself immediately, Yes.

The thoughts made me soften, and I tried to convey at least half of these feelings to Johanna with my expression. It worked, because she let out a huff, but took a step back.

Jumping on the deflating tension, Haymitch clapped his hands. “Great, let’s move.”

At the Cornucopia, it was easier to really see Katniss’s theory about the clock. Well, Wiress’s theory that Katniss picked up on. The older woman was still dazed, singing softly to herself. Tick tock, the mouse ran up the clock. Unsurprisingly, Johanna was not happy with the singing, but the leftover weapons distracted her enough. I loaded myself back up too while Katniss, Haymitch, and Beetee all huddled together.

“What are you three up to?” I asked, peeking over their heads where they knelt.

“Haymitch is drawing a map of the Arena.” Katniss paused. “Or attempting to.”

“Would you like to take over, sweetheart?” Katniss quickly shook her head. “That’s what I thought,” Haymitch huffed.

In the end, it wasn’t a terrible map. A pie shaped thing with all the wedges of horror we knew of labeled. Beetee noted the Cornucopia tail faced midnight, which was another helpful addition. Essential, really, in knowing which slices of the jungle to avoid and when.

It was only then, as we all looked over the map, proud of ourselves, that the silence became notable. Heavy and ominous.

Wiress had stopped singing.