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

Inhale

Creases

The rays of weak light broke through the open window, sounds of the birds started around the same time. I could imagine them, stretching their wings as they took flight. I pushed my feet further towards the bottom of the bed feeling the pressure in my knees vanish with two loud clicks. I couldn't fly away, as much as I wanted too. Fly us all somewhere safe, away from District Four, away from Snow and the Capitol. I enjoy this fantasy for a few minutes until Finnick states to wake.

Behind me he shifts slightly, his body curling unconsciously around me. His arm is again draped heavily over my waist, thumb grazing my bare hip bone. That patch of skin tingles and I wonder if, still half lost in his slumber he even realises it's me. Maybe he had been spending twilight intertwined with her and the movement felt natural.

That made the tingle die and any sense of peace I’d had in those few groggy seconds faded. Yesterday hit me like a slap in the face. The Quell.

I feel my body go rigid and instinctively tuck my knees up under my chin, trying to keep my head balanced, look at it objectively. I couldn’t let my emotions take over, I have to just process this. It doesn't help when easily, Rita’s words from the previous evening start to echo around the room. I'm struggling to remain in control of my breathing, the numbers I'm counting jumble in my brain and each inhale becomes a wheeze that I cannot restrain in my chest no matter how hard I try.

Finnick’s fingers tighten on my thigh and he mumbles something incoherent, clearly waking up himself as he turns onto his back. My body instantly feels cooler, and my hand tries and fails to contain my gasps.

Finnick has a one in five chance, twenty measly percent. He wasn’t going in there with me. It was so highly unlikely. I’d be fighting to the death with someone like Tobias. And death is exactly the prize I would receive. He yawns loudly, sitting up and resting his head in his hands, knees pulled up. “Morning.” I offer weakly, trying to level out my breathing. My voice and throat seem even worse today. He mutters it back, flopping back into the pillows, “How are you feeling?” It's a ridiculous question but I roll to face him, offering him a pathetic half smile as if I'm not on the verge of yet another anxiety attack. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

In less than three months I’d be dead. I knew that thought wasn’t going to leave me. If anything I may as well count down the days, it was the kind of order and control I liked. Not that I had any here. He smiles back far more sincerely, reading my mind in that easy way he always does, and brushes the hair from my face. “You don’t have to assume the worst.”

“Yes I do.” I shuffle on my knees, pushing the windows open further so that the room floods with the slightly salty tinge of the outdoors. His large shirt, a quick version of pyjamas is draping across my thighs. “I’m being realistic.”

“Well don’t be.” I move back, folding my legs under me and glancing through my lashes at him. I'm not up to eye contact, “I know what you keep saying but there’s still a decent chance...”

“No there isn’t,” I whisper, watching as he lay back down and mimicking him. He rolls onto his side, elbow propping up his head, there's a slight grazing of stubble appearing. He only ever let his facial hair grow at home. I'll miss that.

“There isn’t a chance, either way, we both know that. There’s no way I can win.” His jaw tenses. I don’t apologise.

“You won before.” He presses carefully, studying me closely.

The memories shudder like old photographs behind my eyelids, “That’s different. I had help for most of the time and...” I didn’t dare blink, the images would scar.

His gaze wouldn’t release mine and I grew uncomfortable, "You made it work, you were so smart with how you played it, resourceful.” I was biting back disagreement, “Even if you did the opposite of everything we said." His attempt at humour doesn't raise a smile. His mouth purses but he continues, "And you’re good with your aim, with a spear and knives, not bad with a sword. You know knots, you can climb, you can fish...” He drags his thumb over his lower lip, it was a move I knew could practically make women in the Capitol fall to their knees. I didn’t know if he even realised that. “Do not undersell yourself.”

“I haven’t done anything with weapons in years.” I argue back weakly although his confidence in me is touching, even if it is unfounded, “And unless the arena is one giant pool the amount of swimming I do won’t help.”

“Endurance.” He answers instantly, “And you run a lot which is great for it.” I start to pull myself up, carefully clambering around him until I could reach the water on the bedside table. “Besides, we have two months until the reapings. That’s lots of time.” I ignore him for a second, letting the implication soak in as the water did.

“We? Y...You want to train?” I ask, a little confused.

“We’re Careers aren’t we?”

“No.” I snap instantly, twisting to face him, watching as he removed himself from the twisted body of the covers, his own was hardly covered, just some shorts that had ridden up his thighs. “I am not doing that again. I’m not being that again.”

“It would be the smartest thing.” He shoved himself fully upright, “Most of One and Two will have been doing training just simply for fun. You know what they're like. You have to look at it as a mentor. That’s exactly what we would suggest, what we have been trying too.”

“There is no way I’m doing the Career pack again. Not after before.” I swallow the remaining water hard, glad for the slight soothing sensation on my throat. “I’m not kidding myself Finnick, I made it before because I had Tyger. No-one is going to do that this time, regardless of who else gets chosen.” I cut him off before he can bite back, “Anyway, I have...” I work it out quickly, “Fifty-eight days until the reaping. That’s fifty-eight days here, at home and I am not wasting them.”

He muses over my cowardice briefly, “You think if it was the other way around, Andromeda would volunteer in your place to keep you alive?” His voice is a bitter sting, sticking in my skin. “Because I’m not sure she’s all as selfless as you think.”

“That doesn’t make any difference to my decision.” I half lie, my mind already trying to work out if he has a point, to hunt for any signs. I would tell her anyway, tell her she had nothing to worry about. She’d survive this, she’d have her family. That meant something.

“Really? Because I think that’s a load of bullsh...” There was a creak in the hallway, “Mags.” He seems to suddenly remember, “I’ll get her home, it’s still early, go back to bed.”

I sigh, "I won’t sleep... Besides, I mean this Finnick. I’ve made up my mind.” He rips through his wardrobe and slides on a loose t-shirt, “So have I.” I don't have time to question his words before he vanishes from the room with one last smile. I can hear him speaking lowly to Mags, the slow movement on the stairs and the front door closing.

I was alone.

Fifty-eight days. I’d wasted far more than that in one of my bouts of depression, those times when nothing seemed worth it. Fifty-eight days, a week in the Capitol and the games. Dead in less than seventy.

At least that was something I could focus on. Make those days worth it. I’d invite my brother back round, although no doubt after hearing the news he’d arrive as soon as he could. Not that his work would be at all co-operative. After Luka he had had as rough a time as us all, he was lucky he still has his job, the captain had really stuck her neck out for him to tell it. He may already be on his way.

I would have to look into other tributes as well. I could name most surviving I felt, but then only a few it seemed I knew at all. Most had never been to the Capitol each year I had, they were lucky.

I didn’t realise how much time had passed until I head the soft click of his front door and lay myself back down, as if I had done what he said rather than obsessing over numbers and possibilities.

He comes straight up, kicking off his sandals and climbing in beside me, leaving that respectful amount of space. That just cemented that he was unaware of how close he had held me during the night. I didn’t say anything, keeping my eyes on the large painting adorning his wall. I was building up for something meaningful, some way to get through to him. To make him see that this was how things have to go, this was the only viable option

“Finnick.”

“Yeah?” He sounds a little tired again. I detest his ease. My nerves falter, “Do you even know the girl in that picture?” I feel him, his body heat flickering, breath appearing on my shoulder as he examined it. “No. I’ve never really thought about it. It makes me think of...I'm not sure who it's supposed to be. Whoever gifted it to me never left a name.”

“I didn’t realise it was from there.”

“One of the only gifts I’ve ever actually liked. I just, I dunno, I like how she looked.”

It was only really her back you could see, with a hint of profile showing plump lips, her long blonde hair falling in the kind of uniformed half curls I could never achieve with mine. The sun glinted across her, forming a crown. Whoever she was supposed to be, whichever Capitol citizen she was based on was beautiful.

“I wonder who it’s supposed to be.”

He makes a movement as if to shrug, “I don’t suppose that really matters too much.”

“I guess not.” My lips and mouth feel dry again, “Is Mags alright?”

“As if last night had never happened. I think she wants us over for food at some point.” I nodded. "And I don’t want really want her by herself.” I repeat the movement, I knew I had a point in my argument. He would never be able to bear Mags being in the arena, watching anything happen to her would destroy him. I wanted to bring that up, but any change in what we were discussing was welcome.

“Well, I won’t be eating at home for a while so that sounds lovely.” It took him a second to catch on and just as easily our whole conversation shifted tone.

“You and Rita will make up.” I spin, flat on my back so he is hovering almost over me.“Did you hear it?”

“Not really, just shouting.” He pouts, “What did she say?” His brow furrowing. I try desperately to avoid meeting his eyes, regretting mentioning it as the argument ring in my ears.

“Am I selfish and self-absorbed?” He laughs at me for a moment before he must see the look spread over my face and shook his head instantly, “You’re planning on volunteering yourself to go back to the one place we all have nightmares about. How’s that for selfish?” His hand dances around my face, laying my hair out like tendrils of seaweed across his lush pillow as his voice suddenly gains conviction, “Although that won’t happen.”

“Don’t,” I mutter, pushing his hand away and lifting my head up, the hair falling back behind me. “I...” I glare out of the window, feeling tears prick at my eyes for the umpteenth time, “I think if I had handled it all better Luka wouldn’t have done what he did, and he’d be alive.”

“Is that what Rita said?” His voice is cold in an instant, so unlike him, and his eyes lock onto the bandage wrapped around my forearm. He hadn't asked about that although I had been expecting him to.

“No,” I lie, although she basically had, “I was just thinking...”

“Well don’t. Clearly, it isn’t helping.” He smiles at me gently, as if it was funny.

“Stop it.” I said, my anger at him igniting, “Stop just...making stupid comments and jokes about it!” He leans away from me looking hurt, and a minute passes before he speaks. “I don’t know how else to deal with it.”

I am still too irritated to pity that confession; “You're Finnick Odair.” I say breezily, dripping with sarcasm, “You can deal with anything.”

“Not quite.” I don’t try to decipher his words or his tone. I just lay back down, shuffling into his chest, his arm hesitant as it wraps me up again. Another few moments pass before he clears his throat, “Tomorrow, we’re going to start training. Eating right, all of that.”

“Why?” The words a snuffle

“One third and one fifth remember?” I feel my jaw jut painfully but keep myself silent. I let it drop. I want to enjoy him for the day, and for fifty-seven more.
___

He hadn't lied about the training aspect. Each morning he met me early and on the rare occasions I had managed to sleep in he woke me. We ran, we practised with nets, spears and equipment 'borrowed’ from factories and Thom's crew. Finnick had kept his prized trident, still probably the most expensive gift ever to be given during the games. The ability at which he manoeuvred it through the air was terrifying.

If for any reason he was unlucky enough to be selected he had a good chance. Not only did he have his own talent, he had the Capitols affection, what had been a curse for a decade could save him in there. Gifts keep you alive.

I felt more confident as days passed, even as my muscles creaked and ached. I was having nightmares less often, too tired to think about much before I passed out each night. The food was certainly helping; I had never eaten much as it was; picked at food rather than eaten square meals but now we even did that together most days, protein packed. I still found time to eat with Rita and the girls, the uneasy truce we had entered into meant we never mentioned the argument.

Thom and his family had visited, at first red with a rage I tried desperately to put out. I couldn’t lose him like Luka, couldn’t survive that. His anger was simmering continuously, and he shot across tips whenever he could think of them. His work, as I had assumed was harder on him than ever after our brothers ‘incident’ as it was known as if the truth was too far-fetched and treacherous in itself. He came when he could, weekends, sometimes with Phillus and his children, sometimes not. If not we spoke every evening on the phone. It's the most regular contact we've had in years.

We kept going.

If I had been fifteen again and had this knowledge I would have felt far abler, I would have gone about securing my survival in a very different way. But this wasn’t children and I wasn’t fifteen anymore. I was twenty and I was facing people who had all killed before, who understood some of what to expect.

It was lucky now, looking at it, how many had let the stress and trauma of the games ruin them. Without Finnick and Mags that would be me. That certainly lowered the number of Victors who posed a real threat. I felt sick with guilt whenever a thought like that struck me. There were still those who could prove deadly, anyone really from District One or Two, and about a third would still be physically able to murder me if it came to it.

Of course with all of this we were neglecting some of the other survival skills needed, the ability to make fires, hunt animals, decipher what berries and plants wouldn’t leave you dying, with cramps deep in your stomach. Mags pointed that out one day, about three weeks into our new regime.

They were thankful breaks, those elements and over her many years as a mentor she had gathered books, scrawled her own as her arthritis grew. The Capitol was even somewhat useful, recapping every winner to build more excitement towards the Quell.

The tapes gave a clearer list of who was the danger if nothing else got to you first.

It was on the twenty-ninth day of this new lifestyle that something truly clicked, we were watching Johanna from Seven, a bitter cold woman not even a year older than myself who had won the year after I had. She had played a very different strategy than I had, she came across as weak, barely memorable until she was in the arena and then she went off by herself, found an axe and killed almost half the tributes there alone. She was barbaric. “She’s also the only female victor for Seven.” Finnick replied to my thoughts, “So she’ll be in there and you can imagine just how happy she’ll be about that.”

“Well, she won’t be able to play the same game as before. Everyone knows what she’s capable off and she’s never gotten any less vicious.” Finnick and Johanna were on that odd border of friendship, and she spoke to him often each summer. I’d hardly said a word to her, she seemed to be of the opinion that my relationship with Seneca meant I was little more than a cockroach.

“Everyone will have to change their play." He commented, "Well, other than One, Two and Twelve obviously.”

“Well, that depends on who goes in with Katniss, though I imagine if Haymitch gets called that...” I’d said it simply, just stating facts until the epiphany was suddenly so obvious it rang in my ears. Finnick noticed my silence and I felt him looking at me. “She’s the only female tribute for Twelve, isn’t she?” He nodded as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “They wouldn’t have this Quarter Quell without her, would they? They couldn’t have done Victors without a female from Twelve.”

“Probably not.” I felt he was deliberately missing the point.

“But people love the Victors, well most do, most Victors- but it would be stupid for them to have pulled this before, even if there was a full set.”

“Elle...”

“This is for her. Because of her isn’t it?” My brain clicked, “They’ve done this because of what she’s started, this is their way to kill her off without it being obvious.” I laughed, it was so amazingly simple and ridiculous, “And this way they put us all down, show that Victors aren’t special, that they can do whatever they want with no effects. This proves how powerful the Capitol is.”

There was an odd look smeared across his features, “This really shuts down any chance of a rebellion doesn’t it?” I bit my lip, staring straight at him. He’d been lounging on the chair, a bag of rapidly melting ice lay across his swollen ankle. With being so busy, finally having ways to occupy my mind I’d half-forgotten my fear of what he was keeping from me. And his revelation about the girl he had long since forgotten about had distracted me.

“But, you already know that don’t you?” His moment of silence was an answer in itself, “Wait, no, you knew that.” My head was spinning, “Finn,” It seemed unspeakable that he should have said nothing. “Did you know what the Quell would be?”

He shook his head instantly, “I knew something would be happening with her in the Capitol. I didn’t know it would involve us all going in the arena until it was already announced.”

“How?”

“The same way I find out everything else.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” I was met with a look that on a normal day, if I still quivered at any hint of anger would have floored me, “I thought it would be the end of the problem and that would be that.”

“That would be that.” I mocked mercifully. Swallowing venom, “Well,” I lifted my voice, “What do we do about this information then?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t change anything. We still need to be ready for the games in case either of our names are called out.” His eyes were daring me to make my usual declaration of self-sacrifice.

“I’m not buying that. You had to know the second the Quell was announced that the plan was different, Snow was going about it a different way. It just...” I scrambled for a memory, grasping to it, “Seneca was making a big deal about how much planning has to go into a Quell.”

“You think they changed it to kill her.” A true statement.

“Yeah. I really doubt he would have been that excited to talk to me about it if it was this.” A flash of distaste curled his lip. “I mean, they know right? The way he was talking they had to know and they have years of Quells and Game scenarios planned.”

He shrugged at me, trying to lower his defensive stance. He knew far more than he was letting on. “So this friend of yours...” I paused, pouting and trying to stop my words from sounding tense and resentful, “What else did they say?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” I drew my knees up under my chest, tilting my head. “Something else is happening isn’t it?” He denied it again but the lie was written across his lips. I narrowed my eyes, looking for anything I may have missed. “Right, so someone writes or whatever to you, to tell you something you already know as if it’s a favour and that’s it? You would have sussed the reason for the rules straight away, I’m annoyed it’s taken me this long to get it. But that would be a waste of a letter, and also dangerous. We’re not supposed to have any contact with outside Districts.”

“The Capitol doesn’t count as a District.” He bit back.

“No, it doesn’t. And in the Capitol there are no rules like that because there was no risk of a rebellion, was there?” I scrambled a little, “Is there?” He shook his head easily at me. That part I believed. “But then only higher ranking people would even manage to get a letter to you and they wouldn’t waste it...”

“I feel like you’re dancing around a point here Elle.” I wasn’t dancing around anything, I was trying to understand, to put these little puzzle pieces together. He was lying, someone high up had written to him, no rebellion in the Capitol but problems in other Districts. Katniss Everdeen.

I placed my legs flat against the thick carpet, ensuring I held his eyes. “What have you gotten mixed into?”

“Again, nothing.”

“Nothing like you owe someone a visit?” He flinched and an ounce of me felt digusting, “Or nothing like the nothing my brother died for?” He didn’t answer. “I’ll take that as the second one.” Still nothing. I drop my cruel jests when it looks like he’s about to speak but instead he stands, flicking up the volume on the hologram before he sits on the ground directly in front of me.

“You’re not going to drop this are you?” There’s a nerve flitting above one eye and my annoyance pulses with it. I shake my head hard. His breath is a sigh, those creases around his eye and across his forehead appearing again. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Know what?!”

“Elle, stop, please.” He takes several deep breaths. “I didn’t want you to know because you knowing puts you in danger.” I want to tell him we’re all in danger, all the time, especially now. I want to tell him that since I’ll be dead in just over a month it hardly matters. I tell him nothing, I just absorb what he has to say with what I imagine was a dead stare. I wait until he has finished to speak.

“So she needs to win.” That was the easiest way to sum everything he had confided in me up. “She needs to win and somehow escape the arena to District Thirteen to start a proper uprising.” He nods. I laugh, oddly, that manic giggle. “There isn’t a District Thirteen though, they obliterated it.”

“So they want us to think. I don’t know what’s there but it’s something and they’re ready to move against the Capitol. What happened here has happened in other Districts, I don’t know where but it has. This is the turning point.” He was growing excited now, he believed in this, my own throat tight with doubt.

“So, keep Katniss alive, on side. Break out of the arena and raise an army in District Thirteen?”

“Pretty much.”

“And how do we break out of the arena?”

“Stop with the we, you know...”

“Stop with the one third bullshit. I’ve told you. At least now I know what I’m doing.”

“Elenia.”

“Finnick.” I return, watching his huff a little, holding back his own annoyance. “Who else knows? Anyone here?” He shakes his head, “How high up does it go?”

“I’m not sure. High enough.”

“Game Maker high?”

“Perhaps.” That was a resounding yes. “The point is to act like nobody knows and neither do we. Just do what needs to be done. We just do the Games as usual, with a couple of changes.” He half smirks.

“Now who’s using the magical we?” I tease before I feel my face drop. “No, you’re not...are you?”

“Let’s just see what bits of paper Naloh pulls from those bowls.” He’s the one dancing around the subject now.

“And I bet your name is scribbled across all five of them.” I accuse and he doesn’t deny it.

“Wonderful.” I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, “You are such a hypocrite.”
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