The vial shimmers in the light as it pours through the cloudy, warped glass of the house's windows. Dirk inspects it with a practiced eye. Five years out of the Games, and already he is a self proclaimed expert on all things drug related. His primary habit, however, is morphling. Dirk cannot help but examine the silvery clear liquid as it glimmers in the sunlight. It seems of fair quality. Well, at least of fair quality for dirty morphling. This isn't the pure, strong stuff in the Capitol. It's weak, diluted, a small stolen syringe of the thing watered down to fill dozens of vials. Still, it gets you high. And that's all Dirk Tautson and Ibiza Tran care about at the moment.

Dirk removes two needles from their worn mahogany case, watches as their fine points glitter and glimmer and shine and cascade all before his eyes. Just the sight of the needles puts him in a mental euphoria, a mental state preparing for the pricks of the needles, for the flood of silvery clear liquid. Ibiza squeezes his hand as he pumps the cloudy liquid into the syringes. She smiles when he's done, and there are two full syringes lying on the table before them.

"Be my man and show me what it feels like," Ibiza murmurs into Dirk's ear. "Chase my demons away, Dirk. Chase them away."

Dirk kisses her softly, and then he breathes in the salty ocean scent of her russet hair as he positions the needle above her front arm. He lightly presses his lips against her ear, whispering.

"This is what it feels like," Dirk replies, his voice sensual and deep and everything Ibiza has ever felt. Then he presses down the plunger, the needle pierces her suntanned forearm, and euphoria arrives.

Dirk quickly applies his own dose, and then they are a tangle on the cold wooden floor. Colors and shapes explode around them as they kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss until they can't do anything else, until they've never done anything else. Escaping. Escaping. Escaping. Escaping. Escaping. That's what Greason harshly calls activities like these. Dirk is avoiding his problems. But he doesn't listen to the old man. Dirk only focuses on his lover's soft, supple lips, her russet hair, her tanned skin, her glowing sea foam green eyes that bore into his soul. He is higher than he's been in weeks, and not because the morphling's stronger; in fact, it's weaker than normal. It is Ibiza's first time, after all. No, what makes him higher than high is this girl pressed beneath him, this girl who appeared to be a monster after she slaughtered 7 other children in the 61st Hunger Games. This girl's hard exterior is stripped away when they are alone like this, revealing a tormented, broken girl, not a fierce, warrior-like woman. Dirk loves this monster. And Ibiza loves him back.

After three hours or so, they finally come down. Their clothes are still on, but their lips are sore and red, and their bodies ache from rolling around on the hard wooden floorboards. Dirk and Ibiza lie next to each other, staring up at the white ceiling as dust motes float around above them. They do not speak. They do not breathe. They live, and they love. And that it is enough for the both of them.

"That was amazing," Ibiza grunts after some time. "Amazing."

"I love you, Ibby," Dirk whispers.

"I love you, Dirk."

"When do you have to leave, Ibby?"

"Tomorrow," Ibiza groans. "I...I don't want to leave you. Dorsal and Mags are sympathetic, but Bex is disgusted, and Flotsam is bothered. They want me home, Dirk. Baby, I don't wanna leave. Could you come to 4?"

"I love you, Ibby," Dirk murmurs.

"Is that a yes, baby?" Ibiza asks, curling up in his arms.

"I love you, Ibby," Dirk rasps. Ibiza doesn't understand, not really. But then again, no one really does understand Dirk Tautson, not even his lover.

"And I love you, Dirk Tautson. I'll...I'll see you in the Capitol."

"I love you, Ibby," Dirk growls from the floor as Ibiza stands. She just nods, smiling.

What the hell have I gotten myself into, loving this man? Ibiza thinks to herself as she staggers out of his house. The rusty sign proclaiming the area to be District 6's Victor's Village sprouts over the path leaving behind the houses that Ibiza trudges on. She spots Indigo watering her lilies. Mercedes and Greason are nowhere to be found. Ibiza hesitantly leaves behind the Village, walking to the center of town. A car waits there, a crotchety and aging Bex Martin sitting in the backseat. Ibiza boards and they drive off.

"What did you do?" Bex hisses once they're well on their way back home to District 4.

"He showed me what it felt like," Ibiza whispers. Bex spots the needle mark on Ibiza's left arm, taking in her half dazed expression.

"Silly, silly girl," Bex chuckles. "I'll be sure to bring my flowers to your funeral after you overdose with your so called 'lover', Tran." Bex had the inclination to refer to Ibiza as Tran, like the woman had in the training academy. Ibiza bites her tongue and just pulls her sleeves lower over her arms to cover up the needle bite. She tries to forget Dirk Tautson, but of course it will never work. Love does strange things to people.

And this love will bring Ibiza Tran down.


A/N: Hey everyone! This is a fic for Caesar's Palace One Hit Wonder Challenge! There's going to be 6-12 chapters, each based on a song from Zella Day. This chapter was based on the song East of Eden. I hope you liked Ibiza and Dirk, and I hope you decide to stick around! :)

P.S. Inter-District travel is prohibited, and the reason Ibiza is in District 6 will be made clearer in later chapters.

Until next time,

Tracee