‹ Prequel: Suffocate
Status: Giving this re-write a go

Inhale

Day Two

I slept better, my degree of well. After Naloh had left I'd been dozing on the sofa, soothed by the low voices of Finnick and Mags in the background. I could catch random words, some mention of Twelve, of home, Thom. They floated past me. Finnick carried me to my room once again, he stayed when I asked.

There were a couple of kisses, but even that didn't wake me fully and he'd laughed before helping strip off the second dress I had chosen that evening. He's still speaking, voice smooth. Finally, whilst I'm barely aware he joins me under the sheet and his body is warm.

There are a couple of memories dragging me through the twilight hours. Not quite nightmares, I don't wake up in the usual state. Instead, they torture me slowly, plenty of time to sink in. As I'm quiet Finnick stays asleep and I twist so I'm facing him, shuffling closer. Even asleep, face squashed against his arm, he's lovely and I try to focus on that rather than the pictures trying to creep back behind my eyelids.

He must sense me moving, murmurs something incomprehensible and turns, one arm sweeping out to catch me. I let him and I'm back asleep much faster than usual. In fact, he's awake before me and decides to entertain himself by poking and prodding at me until I react. His low chuckles aren't a bad thing to wake up to even if he quickly excuses himself before Naloh is due to arrive. I wait a few more minutes in bed, stretching and enjoying the relief in my muscles.

Today will go better, I'd decided that early on and was determined to keep to that affirmation.

In the morning I spend some time with Cecelia and Woof. We're looking at plants and berries, there some sense of familiarity with a few but I don't let myself sink back into my original games. Woof doesn't seem able to tell what is what, I don't remember him coming in the years since I had been here, and I'm not surprised that no-one volunteered in his place. Woof is probably in his last years as it is. That thought makes me feel mean, but its easier than letting myself focus on Cecelia and everything she is losing. She mentions her children, her oldest daughter has just started school, she's doing really well. Cecelia will not see her daughter finish her first year. She clearly knows that, there's a morose tone in everything she says that isn't about her family. I'm nauseous and after a while make my excuses, saying I've had enough on the station and heading to the closest just for a breather. I can escape Cecelia's fears, she cannot.

I find myself on the camouflage, Rea and the guy from District Six are just leaving, their arms coated in purple and green. She smiles at me, although she looks even iller today, her face sallow, cheekbones like knives.

I'm trying to make my hand replicate leaves, the trainer is saying with the right blend of greens I could sink into the foliage. “It's more subtle than mud.” It's pretty obvious I don't like that comment and he backs away for a bit. At the end of the games, when it was just the three of us left and the game makers were pushing us together I'd smothered myself in mud as a form of camouflage. It's far from a fond memory and this time I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep myself in the room. When she leaves I'm not alone for long, and although the usual loud chat of the group that had formed yesterday continues they are a member short.

“Morning Elenia.” It's Peeta crouching behind me. He may well have spoken to me already. He doesn't say anything if that's the case. “Morning Peeta.” I clear my throat to stop any further words from trembling. “You okay?”

He tells me he is and joins in easily. Within ten minutes his lower arm is a masterpiece and makes my attempt look like a green blob. “I'm not good at this,” I admit, and he laughs kindly, leaning over to the paints and starting to add different tones and shades to my skin. It looks better almost instantly, “Ah, you paint don't you?” I hear myself ask, “As your talent?”

“Yeah, I brought quite a few paintings with me.” I scrunch my nose, “Effie insisted, I don't know if she wants them, or just wants to sell them.” He grins. I don't really return it and instead, settle to watch him dab paint on me. The trainer is staying out of the way, after Peeta's performance last year with him disguising himself next to that stream he doesn't need pointers. She's watching us quite closely though, and I suppose, as innocent a gesture as it is, to her this must seem scandalous.

“That looks really good.” I admire it, and he pulls his hand away, although clearly in his eyes he isn't finished. “Have you always painted?” He must have, to have such skill at a young age and he gives me a bit of history into his interest in it. “I decorate the cakes and stuff at home as well.”

It pops into mind, “Oh, yeah your family own a bakery don't they?”

“Yeah, the baking side of it wasn't really what I was best at, but any cakes we got to do I always decorated.”

“That's nice.” I say honestly, “I did some work in a bakery near my house when I was younger, but that was just bread mainly.”

“Really? That's cool.” He seems genuinely interested so I run with it, a few short stories of batches gone wrong. “Why did you stop working there?”

It's bittersweet, “Naloh picked out my name in the reaping.”

“Ah.” He looks as if he feels bad now, which is silly. I tell him so, and my voice holds. He apologises even so. I'm wasting time here, making him pity me isn't going to make him want an alliance. I'm not impressive though, not strong, not ferocious or dangerous. I am the wrong person to be doing this, I try and look for Finnick on the sly, he's in the group on the gauntlet. No chance of him dropping that to come over here, not now.

“Do you still do baking?” The conversation shift backwards is welcome, “Sometimes, Mags is better at dessert than I am.” I smile at him, pleasant memories come easy, “She makes this really good pineapple upside down cake.” He looks confused, and I start to explain the basics of how to make it, “I don't think I've ever had pineapple before.” Peeta says instead. I flush, I was getting carried away and forgetting about the pointed differences in our home life. I knew how poor District Twelve was. “I might ask for it at dinner.”

“You should.” I feel bad again now, silly and selfish.

“No chance she'll give me that recipe? Or is it a District Four secret?” I do laugh at this, sitting back more comfortably, I'm not going to stop this chance to speak before he does. “I can definitely ask for you.” I joke, but his face takes on a more serious expression. I know where it's going before he speaks again, “With Mags...”

“I couldn't let her do it.” I cut him off, not sure why my voice has lowered, “I couldn't let her...” I breathe carefully, it rattles, “I couldn't see her in there.” He nods, “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Finnick.” I force a smile, he returns it half-heartedly, his gaze moves out at the others. “I bet they do.” There's a tightness and it's hard to keep my lips in their position. I wonder what exactly Peeta has heard. “He was your mentor, wasn't he?”

“Finnick and Mags.” I'm cautious now, not sure where he's going with this.

“Thought so.” He breathes, and he blinks hard, the moment broken, “Do you wanna go on something else?”

“Sure,” I answer quickly, just as easily letting myself look out for Katniss. She's with Gloss and Cashmere making hammocks. “What do you fancy?”

“Could you help me with knots or fish hooks?” It's an earnest request and I agree instantly, eyes flicking over him as we wash the paint from our arms. How old was Peeta? Barely seventeen, I remember the Capitol making a big deal out of his birthday. He's not even an adult yet and he's here for the second time.

We head to the knotting station and I walk him through a few simple knots. He takes a while to get them, and I can tell they won't stick in his mind. “Hooks?” He nods. This is much the same, he doesn't catch on as quick as his fiancée and we spend far longer than necessary on one half decent attempt. It must be near lunchtime now, and I'm starting to like Peeta. He's nice, which I had expected, what we had thought. I hope he likes me somewhat, at least enough to mention to Katniss, although I hadn't shown him anything of use, nothing to make him want me when being dangerous sold.

“Do you do much fishing?” He asks randomly.

“Me personally? No, not really. I find it pretty boring, to be honest.”

“Really?”

I lift a brow, “That's kind of like me asking if you find coal fun?” An industry is an industry, regardless of where you are. This makes him chuckle, “Fair enough.” We keep on a bit longer.

“I'm not good at this either.” He whines.

“There's not usually too much water in the arena,” I say without thinking, Seneca had told me loads of times that the best action happened on land, it was too easy to lose tributes to drowning and who wanted to watch people flounder around when they could be running for their lives? It's a dumb thing to have said and I bite my lip, “You should be fine.”

“Good.” He hasn't noticed my slip up, “I can't even swim if I'm honest.”

“You can't swim?” This seems so utterly ridiculous to me for a moment that he laughs at my face, “Sorry, I just...don't know anyone who can't.” He goes to retort, but instead, he's watching someone walk over. I guess who it is before the tug on my hair and hand brushing over my arm. “Hello.” He chimes, grabbing and examining my hook.

“Afternoon.” Peeta offers, I'm just hoping Finnick isn't going to say anything that may jeopardise the fragile relationship I feel like I've built up with Peeta over the last couple of hours. “Mind if I borrow Elenia? It's nearly lunch now anyway.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for all the help.”

“You too.” I take a couple of steps away, “I'll work on Mags for you.”

“How are you doing?” Finnick asks quietly.

“Better,” I say honestly, and I mean it. Stopping myself from sinking had been working so far and I was feeling a lot better than I had in a couple of days, “Peeta's easy to talk too, he's nice. What about you?”

“She’s...not. I think you did a lot better yesterday. We are trading some tips tomorrow though.”

“Oh, like what?”

“Hour of archery for an hour of trident skills.”

“Oh, neat.” A brow rises, the corner of his mouth twitches and I try to stop him before he starts, “Don't...”

“That's so not neat.” He lifts his voice slightly to imitate me, “I'm just saying Elle, about how incredibly neat that is.” I pull a face at him and go to move away, giggling when he catches my hand.

“Finnick, get off.” He pouts, although he releases me and I can't help myself, “You are so not neat.” I'm still giggling like some fool and dart away from him again. This is the exact opposite of what we're supposed to be doing and that hits me quite suddenly. I choke on the giggle, holding it down straightening my body and face- not fast enough.

Chaff is watching us with a bemused expression and Johanna is glaring daggers. “Lunch then,” Finnick says simply, catching on in no time at all. “I don't think you're allowed in before the bell.” He makes big deal out of counting down from ten on his hands, and whilst we spend a good thirty seconds with him holding two fingers up he looks extremely proud of himself when the alarm does sound and he forms two fists. “Look at that, still got it.”

“Yeah, you're a genius.”
______________

Johanna sits directly opposite me as we eat and although I join in with conversation a little more I can't avoid her harsh gaze. It's irritating but I know exactly why she's doing it. She'd confessed, that must have been what it was, that she liked Finnick. She was worried him trying to save me would hurt him. I still agreed with that, but he'd told me there was nothing to be done about it. He said to ignore her even.

I couldn't do that, not when I still knew she had a point.

I'd done okay with Peeta, spoken to Katniss. That was something. But all of this with Finnick was harder. If this ridiculous suicidal plan did work, I wanted him to be on his way to District Thirteen. If it didn't work I wanted him to be the one walking away from this. I knew that wasn't what he desired, I doubt anyone other than Brutus and Enobaria truly wanted to win this. Imagine, being in a situation where you not only murdered people again but people you knew. Conscience was going to be an issue. At least I hoped it was, my conversation with Katniss may have earnt me a second of doubt in the arena, and that could be the difference between life and death.

I'm barely eating again and I know Finnick has noticed so I start shovelling buttered potato into my mouth. If Finnick could focus on Katniss and Peeta they stood a better chance of staying alive, if I was there and he was constantly worried about me he would be off his game.

The end goal of this was bigger than all of us. I can't believe a few weeks ago I was so onboard, my feelings towards her as are changing as the tide. I frown, I don't know what to think, let alone what to do. I want to speak to Johanna again and so, as the meal ends and people head out I spend far too long dissecting my orange, catching Johanna's eye. “Yeah, in a minute I just wanna finish this.” Finnick leaves, probably rife with suspicion.

“We can't be in here for too long,” Johanna says.

“Yesterday.” I'm trying to hold my nerve so I go straight at it, “Why did you say what you did?”

“About Finnick?” I nod and she shrugs, “Because it's true.” She stares at me, head tilted, ”I mean, if you'd let Mags take your place he'd want to keep her safe but it's not the same...”

“The same as what?” I ask stupidly.

She huffs, “Mags is like half his family, isn't she?” I nod, “And you...” I can feel my face heating up. “Well, he saved you the first time, you're the only tribute he's brought back. He'll feel responsible for you.” She cuts me off before I can respond, “And then, of course, there's whatever else is going on between you.” I stammer to deny it but she waves me off. “Sure, sure. Are we done?”

“No.” I exhale through my mouth. “I don't want Finnick to do anything stupid.” I place my hands flat on the table. “We want an alliance with Twelve.”

“Doesn't everyone?”

“Sounds like it.” She leans back, folding her arms across her chest, “But I don't think they'll want to ally with me. Which is one problem. Then if Finnick is trying to look out for me...”

“He's promised too, hasn't he?” She asks astutely. I shrug, more obvious than if I had just said yes. “Of course he has.” She pouts as if I'm a petulant toddler. “Are you actually upset that he doesn't want you to die?”

“I'm upset because...” she's riling me up now, and she knows it. “Look.” Her arms tense, tendons visible. I push myself back away from her. “I don't want him to get hurt.”

“He's in the wrong place for that little daydream.”

“I know.” I suck in one cheek, “And I agree with what you said yesterday. I don't want him to put himself in more risk for me.”

“Which he will do.” I echo her statement. “And what do you expect me to do about it?”

I didn't expect her to do anything, how could I? I didn't even know what I was hoping for, what sort of outcome confronting her was going to have. “I don't know...nothing. What you said just got in my head.” She sighs, and her arms uncross finally, her hands stay tense and taut. “I don't...” I'm gaping, my mouth is dry and I run my tongue over my lower lip. “Why did you meet the other night?” I practically blurt it, other than her comments it's by far the thing bothering me most. Her eyes narrow again, “If you were there you'd know.”

“Didn't know I'd been invited.” If this surprises her at all she doesn't show it. “What was it about... alliances?”

“Yep.”

“Then why were you talking about me so much? Other than a throwaway comment Finnick hasn't mentioned you at all.” She's not opening up and starts on some story about Blight (her partner who had yet to appear at training) requesting a meeting and blah blah. “Okay, I'll just ask Finnick.” She tightens, that is the only way to describe it- as a wire stretched too far. My thoughts are in overdrive, Finnick really doesn't want me to know about them talking. I push it, “Or not...” I let the words drag, trying to force confidence into them.

She deflates, glancing at the clock behind me high on the wall. We're running out of time in here, we'll be pestered soon by the head trainer. “You and Finnick want Twelve.” She states, “So do I, but I've blown my chances with them I figure, and I'm not going to go play goo-goo eyes at her and pretend I don't hate the fact she's the reason we're here.” My eyes pop, this is not the place for her to be airing those feelings. Johanna does speak a little quieter when she continues. “I don't think they're going to go for me or Blight. Haymitch says they're still deciding but there are a couple of people she likes. So, we get in, you and Finnick go and play with the lovebirds, give the audience something they really want to see and I will escape the bloodbath with who Katniss wants and find you. Best of both, she'll accept my alliance, I get in with a strong group with a lot of sponsors. Let's face it, I won't be getting much in the way of sponsorship otherwise, I don't have your or Finnick's particular...” she doesn't need to say the rest and she trails off. “It will be a strong team, and when One and Two are dealt with I break off, and I win. It's pretty easy.”

“Who does Katniss want?” The way she's phrased it means it's definitely not Finnick and myself, but who else has she spent much time with? And when the hell had Johanna had time to debate this with Haymitch? The thoughts catch back together. The other night wasn't just Johanna and Finnick, at the very least Haymitch was there, and they were discussing alliances, plans in the arena.

Maybe even plans outside of the hunger games.

A spark.

Johanna knew, Haymitch knew. I scold myself, of course Haymitch knew, he was probably knee deep in this crazy rebellion idea. But Johanna knew something, enough to be with Katniss, to get her what she wanted. I'm losing myself, eyes boring into the table so I lift them. She sighs, “Katniss wants Nuts and Volts, for some stupid reason.”

“You don't like them. Why would they trust you to ally?” I'm still thinking out loud, but Naloh makes his way into my head, gushing about Beetee's abilities, his use of electricity. Beetee and Wiress were not who most people would think to ally with, due to their weak stature they wouldn't get a glance. Either Katniss was much smarter than I thought or more people were involved. Finnick had said we could escape the arena, how? Beetee was a genius, everyone knew that. Was he a part of the escape plan? How did he fit? Maybe I was looking too deep, maybe Katniss had just seen the benefits of their brain power.

I was giving myself a headache. This had solved nothing but given me a lot more questions.

“Do not mention this conversation to Finnick. Lie about something.” Johanna ends. Grabbing her plate, chucking it in the cleaning machine and stalking out of the room.
_______________

I'm sure I'm in for a grilling from the moment I've left the room. I smile and manage to avoid him for the afternoon, which will only heighten his need to know. Obviously, there's no way to keep him at an arm's length infinitely. I still don't know exactly what to say, how to play this.

It's quite clear I don't know anything. That's my first line of defence, I play dumb. It works for a while, he hints, suggests but doesn't prod too hard, at least not until after another tense dinner. Luine and Marck haven't joined us today and Naloh is incessantly talking. It turns to alliances, as ever.

Once again, in my attempt to avoid Finnick I'd been in the shower the minute we'd gotten back to the apartment and he had spoken to Mags instead. We wanted District Twelve and Finnick had paid some attention to Seven and Eleven. Mags had apparently passed this on, but the message from Twelve was still muddled, and I knew Johanna's plan. I wonder if Finnick does.

Cashmere and Gloss have apparently offered an olive branch to Finnick, for him to join the career pack. There's enough of a pause for my name to fit in the space but it doesn't. This offer only includes one of us. As ridiculous as it is I feel a little hurt, and I'm sure it shows. Finnick barely scoffs in response, and that's thankfully the end of that. There are plenty of other requests, but nothing tempting. I don't even think Cecelia was serious when she suggested we join with eight. It wouldn't happen, we didn't live in a selfless enough world.

We finish dinner, Naloh does his usual and leaves and Mags has clearly had a hard day so after a while, Finnick coerces her to bed. I lean back further on the sofa, fluffing up a cushion and turning on the screen. I regret that pretty much instantly and I have to flick through loads of channels until I reach something that isn't about the arena. It's a film, a documentary I suppose, about a fashion designer I don't recognise and how they 'find and use their muse'.

It's easy watching, and I stop myself slipping into other things in my mind, trying to focus on the prancing presenter. Finnick is back just as it ends, and several names telling the audience who did what travels over the final images. I recognise one and make a big deal out of it, just to stop whatever it is Finnick is going to say.

I try my best to ramble on, making conversation out of nothing but that has never been my strong point and after a few minutes, Finnick politely nodding I stumble and run out of things to say. “Interesting documentary then.” He concludes for me, and I smile bashfully. I make a split second decision. I going to suck it up for a change and ask him directly. Well, not exactly directly, not with the likeliness of us being heard.

“Thought about tomorrow yet?” He asks randomly, and my bravado droops, “What you want to show them?” I'd almost forgotten about the presentations, our chance to get a score for the arena. For the gamekeepers to measure how dangerous we are. This holds my attention for a moment, “No, not really. Have you?”

“Sort of. I'll just do some stuff with the trident and that probably.”

“Yeah,” He shifts, “That's a good idea. You'll get a high score.”

“It doesn't matter too much anyway, the scores irrelevant really isn't it? The interview is more important.” Shit, I'd given that aspect no thought at all. “Oh, yeah.” I fluster, “What should I say? I haven't thought about it.”

“Whatever you want, Caesar helps everyone out anyway.” His hand squeezes just above my knee, “It's only three minutes. Just let him talk if you want, play off him.” My chest hurt as it did when Mags said about Cashmere and Gloss. “I'm not completely useless.” I fire back, more harshly than he deserves, I know that, but in the moment I don't care. “Did I say that?” The response has his hackles up, and there's an unpleasant tightness around his mouth. I bite harder, “Why did you lie to me about where you were the other night?”

There's a nasty little sting of smugness at the confusion that greets me. “What?”

“When you were having your lovely little chat with Johanna and whoever else was there the night of the opening ceremony. Why did you lie to me about it?”

He sighs, it's defeated, the sigh of someone beaten. I just know it's not myself he's feeling beaten by. When he half whispers my name it does nothing to cool my temper. Instead, I storm off, exactly how I had done those few short weeks ago at his home. Whenever something isn't going my way, whenever I feel betrayed by Finnick I run away.

I can't stay hidden long.

He follows me into my room, and I let him hook himself around my shoulders, push me into the bathroom and watch, my teeth shark-like. He turns on the shower first, the water storming down onto the porcelain. Both taps follow a thunderous waterfall. I stare at his back, it's shuddering as he forces his breathing to become regular. That's my fault, but I'm determined to look stoic, stone when he turns. I am allowed to be angry at him, he lied to me about the games from the start and he is still lying to me now, going behind my back with Johanna Mason of all people.

He looks so hurt when he does face me that my mask cracks. “I'm not trying to...I'm not lying because...” I can barely hear him, which is obviously the point of this mass waste of water. He comes up close to me, and the iron rod I'm imagining down my spine aches to bend. His hand runs through his hair, putting it in disarray instantly. “I'm trying to keep you safe.”

Johanna's words bounce around my mind.

“That doesn't mean you lie to me.” I argue back, “You spout all this stuff about us being a team but you go behind my back again.” He doesn't get a chance to speak, “You don't tell me about the games, you and Mags pull that stupid stunt at the reaping and now you're what, making deals with Johanna and telling her just how pathetic I am?!” My voice shakes.

Yet again he's kept silent, “You can't keep doing this Finnick. I have every right to know what's going on.”