A/N - Written for Hunger Games Spring Fling Fest 2013.


When Liars Live A Lie

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The first time she sees him, he is radiant. He stands tall, all smiles and all wiles, his sea-green eyes holding amusement in their depths as he befriends all those who stand around her.

Johanna scowls.

She scowls when other Victors introduce themselves to her, she scowls when she is offered food or a beverage, and she scowls when the Victor of District 4 offers his hand in a very friendly way.

When she crosses her arms and continues to scowl, he only smiles wider, looking unperturbed by her behaviour. Others walk away when she glares, Finnick Odair wraps a strong arm around her shoulders and says, "I like you. You and I will be friends one day, Mason."

She continues to scowl as she shrugs out of his arms and turn to leave, trying to ignore the flutter of excitement she felt at the pit of her stomach when he had said those words. His eyes had been full of laughter and his voice lower than most.

She should have paid heed to his warning. She should have stayed away from him of all people.


The fifth time she sees him, she realises that he's stalking her. It is subtle, but she notices it.

Whenever she enters a room, he enters a few minutes later, whenever she leaves a room, he practically walks beside her. He's chirpy and fun, the exact opposite of what she wants from life. He walks like a god among the people and she sits sullen in a corner, unwanted by the company she detests. He smiles, she doesn't. She believes that there is no question as to who is more popular between the two of them.

"Miss me?"

She rolls her eyes as she drinks the white liquid she had been handed. After the Games, after the nightmares, liquor holds a special place in her heart.

"Shouldn't you leave to give me the chance to miss you?" she asks curtly, her voice full of venom that no one can misunderstand.

There is something about him, because he deliberately misunderstands. "I do leave. There are times when we don't spend any time together."

"Really?" She downs the last of the liquid and eyes him warily. "Why can't I remember that?"

His smile is wide, but his eyes follow the movement of her hand as she gestures for an Avox to fill her empty glass. It's an odd shaped piece, the edges cut her every time she holds it too tight.

"I could think of several reasons."

She snorts. "Go think somewhere else."

"I would love to," he says in a friendly voice. "But I'm afraid you would miss me."

She snorts and orders another drink too soon. Finnick watches her silently as she puts away another two drinks before he orders his own and joins her without saying a word more.


The next time she sees him, she realises that she had missed him. She ignores the feeling, of course. He's an annoyance, a distraction. He only wants entertainment and she wants something more; something that cannot be given to her because she has seen horrible things and done horrible things. She wants peace and she wonders when she would get to enjoy such a thing.

But he is persistent. He joins her for dinner, uninvited, he yells greetings to her from across hallways with a happy grin across his face, he even breaks into her hotel room the one time she isn't feeling well with a vile song to help her get better.

And when both their tributes die, she invites him to her floor for the first time so they can talk in soft whispers about mundane things, drinking liquor and forgetting other, more horrid things, while they listen to each other with understanding that no one else has shown.


The next time she sees him, she blushes and instantly hates herself. She begins to hate him for good measure, too.

But he is still persistent, still stubborn, and still Finnick Odair.

So, when he comes to her floor, smelling of vile perfume and sweat, she doesn't say a word as she leads him to her shower. He spends an hour in there scrubbing his skin until he is raw and tender to the touch. He doesn't mention anything but the newest television show and the latest fashion of the Capitol.

She stays silent, listening to him prattle on about things neither of them care for before she finally tells him that there is still a mark on his ear.

He wipes the lipstick away furiously and his smile becomes non-existent.

They don't talk much about real things such as home or people who they know. But that night, Finnick whispers the words that no one expects him to say.

"I hate this." His voice of full of venom and goes deeper than the hatred she feels.

She winces when she hears it, her glance falling around the room in preparation for the worst. She must chastise him; remind him where they are.

"I know," she says instead, before they sit silently, without another word passing their lips.


He loves Annie Cresta.

She learns this during a shallow conversation as to who in the Capitol prefers what products in their hair. She speaks of a balding man who wears a purple wig with pink streaks; Finnick mentions how Annie has the most glorious hair that he has ever seen. He then mentions that he might be biased. He then mentions that he might be biased because he loves her.

She stays silent and he lets out a soft laugh.

"She loves me," he says. "But she doesn't know."

When she says nothing, he looks at her expectantly.

"Do you think she would still love me if she knew?"

She wants to snap at him and tell him to get out. He used her shower again and he smells too marvellous to be at the Capitol's beck and call.

But his eyes are empty and she has never been able to see such sadness and look away.

"She will love you no matter what," she says, her voice soft and her hand gentle as she runs her fingers through his hair.

Because I love you, she thinks.

No matter what, she does not say.

Only he can bring out this nice side to her. Only he can see that side and not judge her for her weakness. Because, she isn't weak; not if she can help it. She will kill again to prove it.


Johanna Mason loves Finnick Odair.

Finnick Odair loves Annie Cresta.

And because the whole world is pretty much fucked anyway, Johanna figures she's got the better end of the stick.

.

Fin.