Inhale

I don't sleep any further. After Mags leaves I shuffle a little, but I'm sticky with sweat and the tears are still eager. I swallow them back, I need to stand up, to try and shake it off.

In the end I go into the shower again, set it quite cold to distract me and leave my hair damp, not bothering to tidy either towel as I toss them on to the floor. The clock reads four am. Did Finnick come in, see me asleep and go back to his room? It's a distinct possibility, either that or in some drugged up stupor I put myself properly to bed. I feel guilty either way, if he did come to see me and I was asleep I know he wouldn't have been cross but it wasn't really fair. The least I could have done is wait up for him.

I tear through the section of my wardrobe dedicated to nightwear, most of it extremely revealing – just how Seneca liked it. That stops me in my tracks for a moment. Any other year and that is exactly where I would be. I feel number to that now, I'd be with Seneca and Finnick could have been anywhere. That's the part that twists my insides.

He never speaks about, not when he would arrive back to the apartment straight after, not at home. It was his way of dealing with it, I know that. Pretending it never happened. I don't get how that ever worked for him, but I have always made sure I'm there, just in-case that time was the time he wanted to say something. At least that's over now. And I've heard nothing about the fear Finnick mentioned last night. I don't like thinking about all of this. I flick through some more options, finally just grabbing one that at least looks like it will cover my nipples and tugging it on. My hair is damp and heavy and I run my fingers through it again.

I decide that if Finnick is asleep I won't wake him. He's probably asleep at this time, and hopefully, his is far more settled than mine. Slipping out of my room I'm careful the door doesn't slam, and open his just as quickly. His lamps are on lowly, but he's not in his bed or the bathroom. In fact, the bed looks completed untouched. I feel myself tense, thinking the worst, that he has been called upon, that someone has disregarded any sense of respect and demanded he spent what could be his last nights with them. With Capitol citizens, any monstrosity is a distinct possibility.

I'm trembling again now, his room too hot. I step out, finding it harder for my eyes to adjust in the darkness. I'm trying to fight down the building panic. I could ask an avox if he went out, they would know. It probably wasn't something they were supposed to answer even just by nodding but I could definitely try.

“Elle?”

I jump, my heart leaping into my throat and crashing with my breath. The relief is just as instantaneous and I look for the source. Finnick is sat in the largest armchair, it faces away from the others a little, and he seems to have spun it so he can look out of the glass wall. “You okay?”

With my eyes finally adjusting I look at him properly. He definitely hasn't slept, and although the familiar crinkles appear around his eyes as he smiles at me the skin underneath is starting to swell. He drags me straight onto his lap, letting my feet hang over one side of the seat. “You haven't slept at all have you?”

“I did a little. Just restless.” He lies. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, it's still sore from earlier. He certainly hasn't touched his bed but I don't bring it up. “So you wanted to sit in the dark?” He offers me a closed mouth smile and the fingers on my outer thigh tap some nonsense pattern. “What about you then? Have you had another shower?”

“Mmhm.” If Finnick can lie, so can I. I don't mention the nightmare, the way I had one of my famous breakdowns afterwards. I play it off and nuzzle my head into his collarbone. We sit in silence for quite a while, and I can feel myself growing sleepy again, the Capitol is becoming a blur of jade and vermilion.

“Elle.” There's an echo of a voice and a tickle on my face. I frown, and the voice chuckles. “Come on, we can't sit here all night and you're giving me a dead leg.”

“You're a dead leg.” He grants me far more of a laugh than necessary in my half-asleep stupor and I rock forward as he picks me up. Even that motion is relaxing and my memory of getting put into his bed is hazy. I manage one now familiar piece of advice, “Don't forget Naloh.”

The hand playing in my hair pauses for a moment, and the mattress under me moves as he shifts. “I don't care about Naloh.”

I thank Finnick as he passes me the large cup of coffee, even though I've never been a fan. I drop several sugar cubes into I and top it with cream. I'm so tired I feel as if I haven't slept at all. I make myself drink half of the cup and chew on some toasted bread. Mags keeps looking at me, I don't know if she's had the chance to speak to Finnick yet, but no doubt he would hear a far more truthful account of how I'd slept last night.

He's still lied to me. That was bugging me.

“Don't worry so much Elenia, we did plenty at home so...”

“We didn’t watch everyone else at home.” I snap, my shoulders falling instantly as guilt strikes, he waves away my apology, “No, and it doesn’t matter now. Do whatever you want to, but we have to use this an opportunity to make allies.”

Naloh chips in agreeing, he doesn't comment on Finnick's mention of our illegal training. He even suggests the very pair we were planning on getting close to. Not that Naloh had any inkling of a greater reasoning for why Katniss Everdeen was so important. I couldn't imagine Naloh ever wanting anything less than the luxury he lived in now.

“Who else are you thinking about?” I was glad they were talking, even if it was painful and something I wanted to ignore, the silence only made the voices in my head talk faster, spin themselves around in circles. “Johanna perhaps,” Finnick said lightly, and although I was staring hard at what was left of the bread I knew he was searching for my approval. I shrug a minuscule movement. I hadn't told him about what I had said to Johanna. I should have, maybe he could do some damage control. I might have completely blown that possibility.

They keep chatting about the others and I keep forcing food into my mouth. The only limitation I had with an alliance, the only point on which I wouldn't bend was the Career pack. I would do not that again, I'd told Finnick that and I hope he still agreed. Regardless of how I felt towards Cashmere and Gloss, I could never trust them for a second, especially not with Brutus and Enobaria.

I try not to think about anyone else.

It's not working very well and I excuse myself quickly saying I want to brush my teeth again and rush to my room. Several long breaths stop it from spinning and I make my way to the large vanity mirror, checking over my face again. I had put on make-up, both per Luine's request and because I looked half dead without it. My face had more colour and the bags under my eyes were quite well hidden. My hair was another matter, I'd had my fourth shower in a day and used the device to dry my hair, it made it a bit more manageable but I could hardly go into training with it down. I pull it up into a high ponytail, letting some strands fall loose and plaiting others. It's a typical District Four look, and when I was little my Mum would always do the plaits for me.

I feel a little better, I'm already dressed in my training gear and the coffee seems to be working its way through me. Day one. I haven't actually given much thought as to the stations I want to visit, but I know I'll definitely spend more time on the survival ones than the weapons. People say every year but there are also some tributes who just want to show off, they go in unable to make a fire, set a trap, tell what fruit is edible. Sometimes it doesn't matter – when the sponsors drop food in, but I'd seen it kill a lot of others.

I don't really want to touch a weapon for as long as possible.

Besides, Finnick and I worked on a lot of skills, I am stronger physically. I am better with a knife, a spear, still pitiful with a trident. It may even be worth playing to the general opinion of me. Makes them less likely to target me. The only problem there is that I will be with Finnick, and everyone knows just how deadly he is.

I need a few more deep breaths, and I count between them carefully, shooting upright with a fright when there's a loud knock at my door. It opens slightly and Finnick slips in, he doesn't look deadly now. He still has that worried look spread over his features but he is beautiful.

“You haven't done your hair like that in ages.” He comments lightly, lingering halfway across the room. I turn back to the mirror and tug at my hair to tighten it, I don't really know how to reply to that, but I can tell there's some compliment and can't stop my face from heating up. “Are you blushing?” Easy steps lead him to me as I stutter out in defiance. His smile causes both dimples to emerge, it's my favourite one. There's nothing hidden behind it, and his whole face is illuminated. I could probably count the number of time this smile emerges on my hands, it's rare – growing ever more so and I try to commit it to memory.

“You are.” He prods my cheek and I smack his hand away; being the drama queen he is he acts as if I've scalded him. I laugh, he smiles again, it's still stunning but it's not that smile and I know whatever moment was bringing him such joy has passed. “I'm going to report you for that. Tributes are not supposed to get physical before the arena.”

I'm proud that I can continue the joke without cringing at his words, “But Finnick,” I feign innocence, widening my eyes, “You've gotten very physical with me many times. Maybe I should report you.”

A smirk, his hands reaching out to grab my behind hard and drag me into him. “Maybe you should.” He breathes, and the core of my body tightens in response to him. “M...maybe.” I practically shudder, finding some strength and slipping from him “But not right now, we've got training.”

“Unfortunately.” He grumbles, although he dips to catch my chin and kisses me. As soon as he pulls away he's back to business. “How do you want to play it?”

I scramble to catch up, “What do you think? We can't just stick to Peeta and Katniss, it would look weird.”

“They went round together last year as well.” Finnick says. I didn't know that. “So they may well do the same thing.” I bite my lip at the same time he licks his. “We'll see, whatever you're happy to do. We can do the same if you want?”

“Probably not.” I stretch it out, thinking, “We need to suss people out, don't we? And they're going to be a lot more open with you than me.”

“That's not true.” I lift and drop one shoulder. “You know, people really don't like me as much as you think. Normal people anyway.” Normal people meant anyone from anywhere but the Capitol. “Yeah well,” I want to defend him, even from his own words, “They don't really know you at all do they?”

“And do they know you?” He has me there, but there's another set of short raps on the door and Mags sticks her head in. “Come on, show time.”

Less than half of the group are downstairs when Finnick and I arrive. The head trainer, a woman whose name slips from my mind, does a speech which sounds vaguely familiar and sends us into the training area.

I hang back a little with Finnick, watching as people head off towards their first station. I could have predicted it, Brutus, Chaff and a couple of others went straight for weapons, it was their chance to show off to one another. Katniss murmurs something to Peeta and he follows them.

This does surprise me, and I watch Finnick's eyebrow lift. “Well.” He says simply, “Where do you fancy?”

“Not there.” I answer simply enough. He winks at me, persona on and saunters over to the already loud group of men. My mouth is dry, but as if sensing my easy discomfort my saviour appears again.

“Hey, Elenia.” Cashmere, looking far more rested than I could dream of being, is starting towards the fire making section. She twitches her head a little and I follow her request. Gloss shooting me his version of a winning smile and tugging my ponytail lightly. “It's quite weird to actually be able to see your face.”

“Gloss.” His sister scolds playfully, waving him away. He doesn't go far, starting a conversation with the trainer. It's fairly easy with them both, they don't push too much and they've always been nice to me. There's the easy flow of sibling banter though, and at points, they say something that sounds like Luka or Thom, or they share a look that must reflect years of memories. Those moments sting.

I smother a yawn after a while, and Cashmere tells me about this new pill she was introduced to, some energy boosting herb. “Ask your avox to source it for you.” I won't, the idea of putting any more work on either of the mute people trapped as we are is repellent.

I smile anyway, Gloss has managed to light a fire with both matches and flint, but the trainer has set him the challenge of only using natural materials. I've been watching him rub sticks against each other for ten minutes before I chip in, “You need to make a spindle, and grab that flat piece of wood there.” I order, talking them through the basic of the bow and drill technique my father had taught me years ago. “Right, so is the vine in place?” I give Gloss the difficult job of creating the friction with the bow, whilst Cashmere and I hold the spindle in place, dipping down to check if a spark is forming. After a good twenty minutes, sweat beading on Gloss's forehead I spot one, and quickly scoop the hot material in my palms, blowing gently to encourage the dried pieces of grass. They're both watching, and offer me wide grins when the spark becomes a flame. “Quick, the kindling.” I half demand, and Cashmere grabs it, putting it back on the plank of wood. The burning grass in my hand follows and we wait painstakingly for the dry wood to catch, blowing until the orange glow overtakes it.

There are several quick claps and I look away, caught up in the one short mission of fire starting. Wiress looks thrilled, and her smile is practically cat-like. She heads back to Beetee, muttering.
“That was a lot harder than I thought.” Gloss groans, pulsing forearm wiping over his cheeks. “I'm impressed you know that.”

“You'll have some nice blisters if you don't get your hands looked at,” I promise, pretending the compliment doesn't make my entire body warm as his sister fusses over his hands. Her words pop back to mind quickly. She will do anything to ensure Gloss wins this. “Come on, let's get them sorted now.“ Her eyes flicker “Coming Elenia?” I pause, I could easily spend this time with them both, and it wouldn't be too bad. But that's not the point of these three days. I glance around the large space, Peeta is still with Chaff and Brutus, and Katniss. Well, Katniss currently, and once again, has Finnick draped all over her. I don't know if Cashmere saw this before and was trying to spare me.

That would only show just how poorly hidden my feelings were. At least Finnick was a better actor.

“Nah, I'm good.” I fake another smile. “I'm going to grab some water and decide where to go next.”

They say goodbye quickly, and head over to the opposite side. I do go and get something to drink, my mouth is dry and it gives me another excuse to watch people. Two people in particular at least, Katniss slips under Finnick's arm, although she pauses as he quickly forms a noose and pretends to hang himself. My frown only deepens at that, what a time for him to keep his morbid sense of humour.

I sip my drink slowly, it's cool and that does make me feel a little better. Katniss heads away and onto the fire making section herself. I can see Wiress still toying with the idea, no doubt trying to persuade Beetee in her broken sentences.

“Morning.” I do little more than raise a brow, again finding myself a little annoyed with him for no good reason. “Nice time with Cashmere and Gloss?”

“Nice time with Katniss?” I counter, purposefully not looking at him although it's not hard to imagine the slight purse of his lips when he tries to work me out. I don't give him much of a chance and walk off, though that will just make it clear I am somewhat annoyed. I hear his sigh but he doesn't stop me and I end up dithering between the gauntlet, a terrifying assault course and the climbing wall which leads to the mass of ropes hanging high on the ceiling.

No-one will pay me much attention on the climbing wall, and it's more familiar territory. Or rather, it used to be. When my father was still alive he captained quite a large fishing boat, and as part of our school curriculum from the age of five you were supposed to spend one day a week learning a skill, the number of days increased as you aged. I wasn't much help with the fishing itself, and to tell the truth I imagine much of the crew found me annoying. But I'd loved it, my father had encouraged me to clamber over the bow, up the crows nest. It was a skill I suppose you didn't lose, climbing, being able to judge grip and distance.

I reach the top quite easily, playing a little on the ropes. The action brings back a flow of memories which quickly turn sour and I head back down, jumping the last couple of metres. The trainer suggests setting the difficulty higher if I return, increasing the angle and minimizing the areas of hand grip. I agree although I'm not really listening. I wasn't quite as invisible as perhaps I would have liked and catch a couple of pairs of eyes aimed my way. The most striking, the ocean shallows after a storm turns away. I'm less fortunate with the narrowed pair of brown eyes and again, I follow her beckoned command.

I slow down about halfway. Why am I rushing to her want? I know that, any tiny thing that will make up for what I said, will minimize the selfish guilt I will do. Besides, I tell myself, Finnick mentioned her as a possible alliance. In a way that was aimed at myself, which means he's serious. “Yes?” Johanna's bare arms are still slick with grease from her bout of wrestling earlier.

“Fancy a quick go in the new weapons areas before lunch?” Her eyes flare, teasing me. It's not cruel, at least not for her. I feel my face tighten instantly. It's not just the amount of people who were playing with weapons earlier that I wanted to avoid, it was the whole area in general. I make myself agree, I'd planned to be willing, to seem confident. It could go either of two ways, anyone half watching might be slightly impressed by my skill, or they may write me off even quicker.

I don't suppose either option really matter.

“Cool, we'll go in the new bit. Come on.” Obedient, I follow. Finnick pauses his match with the trainer to shoot me a pointed look, his trident in hand. Johanna starts fiddling with the panel outside the new glass box. I watched it earlier when Brutus was, loudly, trying to beat Chaff's score. It's a series of projections, orange sexless bodies who come at you. I don't think they could do hand to hand combat, that's why the trainers are still here. But they're for aim, good moving targets. “We'll put it on quite a low setting.” Johanna says, she clicks her tongue, “What weapon do you fancy?”

“We should probably do knives if we're just throwing.” My voice sounds stronger than I expected, and she agrees easily, vanishing around the side and passing me a waist belt full of them. “If it helps,” she murmurs lowly as we step in, “You can imagine Crane's face on them.”

She laughs at whatever expression it is that lands on my frozen face. But it's too late now and the door slides shut. There's a whir and a buzzer as the simulation starts. I try to shake her comment off, I can try and fail to understand it later. I slip one of the daggers into my hand and the first body appears.

Johanna throws her first dagger, almost missing. A chunk of orange blocks fall from the projections arm. Her next shot is better and the blocks rain down, the body disintegrates, crumbles.

I go with it.