I wringed my hands until the skin felt worn and tired, my heart thumping out a hundred beats a minute in a rhythm I didn't want to listen to. Mags rubbed my back encouragingly, giving me a comforting look without speaking a word. We stood together in the little cordoned-off pen, just the two of us, living victors together. In the other pen, stood Finnick, running his hands through his hair as I had done a few minutes earlier. My hair, I mean, not his.

Most of the victors had 'mysteriously' disappeared that morning. We had a huge pool of victors, especially on the male side, and even though the Peacemakers had raided the Victors' Village that morning, most of them had been nowhere to be found. In serious hiding, I guessed, or in someone's house watching from afar. Some may have even committed suicide. Who knows, with another arena in front of us?

The girls were fawning over him. I could barely contain my sighs.

"Is this really the time?" I whispered quietly to Mags, and she shook her head quietly.

"All I want is a quiet retirement stage. Is that too much to ask? Seriously, President Snow…" she whispered back.

"I know, I know," I said, rubbing her hand in attempted comfort.

She edged closer to the guy's pen.

"It'll be okay in there, Finnick," she said, in real comfort. Mags' voice was so warm and soothing it was unreal.

"I-I don't know," he said, his voice shaking. It was clear that he did know – it would most definitely NOT be okay in there.

"It's time for the reaping!" the announcer grinned cheerfully. The families that didn't have anyone in the pens cheered slightly – we were a Career district, supposedly, but most of the cheers seemed kind of fake.

"No, no, no," I said under my breath.
"First to reap, we'll take the guys!"

The woman scraped around in the barrel (we use fishing barrels for the reaping) here for the inevitable name.
"Finnick Odair!" she announced way too happily, and Mags began to cry. We all knew it was going to happen, I just don't think she was ready for it. Finnick readied himself and breathed in, walking up to the stage. The girls were falling over themselves to get up to the front.

He looked down despondently. The girls started swooning at the look in those eyes. I sighed again, cradling a crying Mags.

"And for the ladies!" the woman rummaged through the respective barrel to pick one of the two names that were in there. "Harper Quinn!"

What was that? Oh yeah, that was my heart jumping from my chest and into my throat, rendering me unable to breathe. I started shaking and unattaching myself from Mags. Her sobs became louder. I knew how it felt to send two kids you'd mentored to their death – I don't even want to think about how she was feeling.

"Harper, please make your way to the stage!"

I stood next to Finnick on the wooden stage, looking down into the eyes of every single person in the audience. Then something happened that was completely unexpected – something I thought that even Mags' infinite wisdom could not have thought up. Finnick reached across nervously and grasped my hand. The announcer almost fell over herself in her excitement at this development, as did all of the girls in front of the stage, in their jealousy.

Me, I felt nothing. Because although I was the victor of the 67th Hunger Games, I was mentored by Mags and Mags only, and for reasons unknown, I had never even met Finnick up 'til now because he was always busy in the Capitol. I didn't even know this guy, and I was being put into a Quarter Quell with him. Well, isn't that just luck?

Looking up onto the massive screens displaying the reaping, I saw the biggest contrast I had ever seen in my short lifetime. On one side was this gorgeous hunk, a beautiful man with sea-green eyes you could melt into, bronze-coloured hair and a body to die for. The plain girl he was holding hands with had wavy reddish-brown hair, brown eyes that were nothing special and a skinny little body with no curves in sight.

The next thing they did was stick us on a long train that would take us to the Capitol. It would take us two whole days to get there and that was on a high-speed train, so I was already wondering how I would pass the time and how I would cope in the Quell. I didn't have any possessions, so I didn't take long for them to kick me and Finnick onto that damn train and get it going.

With no mentor (as we were previous victors we were expected to take care of ourselves and I don't think Mags could face it), we were left spending our time on the train as we pleased, and it was extremely boring. It was around lunchtime when we left District 4, and hungrily, I sat down to the table to have something to eat. They served us fish in a creamy white sauce, warm bread and mashed potatoes with ice water in goblets on the side.

Finnick was done eating before I had even finished half of mine. I ate the fish slowly as he began to talk.

"So, I'm Finnick Odair," he said calmly. I almost choked on my mouthful with laughter.
"You think I don't already know that?"
"And you're Harper Quinn."

"I'm surprised you know that."
"How could I not know that? You live next door to me, I would have mentored you if it wasn't for Snow and his ways and you're pretty famous. And cunning," he said, mopping up the sauce left on his plate with another slice of bread.

"You could say that," I shrugged.

"So here's a little about myself. I'm Finnick. I won the 65th Hunger Games – I was fourteen. I fish most of the time now, with a trident and I spend most of my time by myself or sometimes talking with or looking after Mags. Things I like are the sea, peaceful days and home-cooked meals. Unfortunately I can't cook for my life, so…"
"I'm Harper. I won the 67th Hunger games – I was sixteen and Mags was my mentor, sometimes I still visit her too to clean with her and make sure she's okay. I spend most of my time cooking for my dad and making sure he's okay so generally making sure people are okay is what I do. When I have time, I actually like to draw, run, swim and sometimes I fish too. I play a lot of lacrosse. Things I like are also the sea, hot tea, long baths and not having to make sure people are okay for one second. Unfortunately I don't get that second, so…"

Finnick laughed.

"Well, all you're going to have to look after now is yourself, does that count?"
"Not the relaxing idea I was thinking of."

"If it helps, I'll do what I can to look after you too."
"Thank you."
We carried on talking for a few hours, him talking about his life and his Games and me talking about my father and my history. The Avox waitresses came in occasionally to give us more water. I tried to avoid their gaze whilst they did, knowing I would feel really guilty if I looked them in their eyes.

At around four-thirty, I started rubbing my eyes.

"Are you tired?"
"A little bit, but it's only mid-afternoon."
"It's been a long day. Why don't you go and take a long bath like you said you liked?"
"I think I will. Meet me later?"

"Where?"
"In the lounge, I wanna watch some TV or something."
"Okay, I'll meet you there."

After getting out of the bath, I brushed through my newly-washed hair and pawed through the drawers to try and find something to wear. After finding some warm light-grey tracksuit bottoms and a dark blue vest top, I put on some small, thin slippers and padded through about six carriages before I found the lounge, and Finnick. I was trying to put off the thoughts of the Games as much as possible, and being with him made me think about not much at all.

There're a couple of hours each day where the Capitol relents with their endless government broadcasting and broadcasts Capitol-made soap operas and the like instead. Of course there's a hint of propaganda in them but it makes a half-decent change from the usual blatant propaganda. To celebrate the Quarter Quell, they were rerunning these programmes for a few days to make up for the endless games coverage.

We watched for a while until I noticed Finnick looking uncomfortable and tapping his nails in an even rhythm on the arm of the couch.

"Are you okay?"
"Y-Yeah, I'm fine."
"No, seriously, are you okay?"
"Not really," he admitted.

"What's up?"
"What's up? What's up? Apart from the fact that in like a week we'll be sent into an arena where we'll have to kill people I've grown to know, people that are living human beings, that have feelings and emotions and families! We'll either kill or be killed, for the SECOND time around! I thought I'd be out of there forever!"

"So that's what's up…"
"Are you not bothered by this at all? Do you not care that you'll have to kill people again, have to go back to a place where you can never let your guard down, see all the horrors that take place? Are you really that cold?" he looked at me, absolutely horrified, like I was the most monstrous being he'd ever seen.

"No. It's just that I'm trying to forget for the moment. I'm trying to watch some crappy TV shows for a little while and curl up on the sofa and not think about the fact that I might have to go back there again. Is that okay with you?" I said, a tear slipping down my cheek. "I think I'll just go back to my room, because it's obvious my company is pretty disgusting for you, and I'll just spare you the hassle."
"I didn't mean…"

In my room, I asked one of the Avoxes to bring me a piece of bread and some tea because I had skipped dinner that night. I ate slowly, wished her goodnight, drank my tea and curled up under the down duvet. It moulded to my shape instantly and warmed me, and I started to cry again until my eyes were raw and I didn't have anything left to cry out. Was I really that horrible that Finnick was so disgusted with me?

What must have been a couple of hours later, I heard a knock on the door. An Avox came in.

"Uh, what are you doing… here?" I asked in a hoarse voice, then realising that she couldn't reply. I looked around for something for her to write on but then I realised there was nothing in here and this really wasn't my night. Turns out she was just drawing the curtains I had forgotten to, because it was knocking on nine-thirty.

After she left, I felt my eyes, heavy with tears, drooping.

A crack of light stretched across my pillow as my eyes flickered open. I heard the soft noise of the door sliding open against the carpet, as I stretched to alert, attempting to wake myself up. I was feeling kind of groggy because I had been asleep for a while I was guessing, but it soon cleared because I drank from the water the female Avox left for me. The clock said that it was around midnight.

Now, to the more important things, I turned, on guard, to the door. A silhouette moved through the doorway, the light from the corridor glinting on its hair.
"Uh, hey," Finnick said, sitting down at the foot of my bed.

"Anything to say?"
"Right off the bat," he chuckled. "I didn't expect that."

He edged up so he was sitting next to me.

"Well… yeah."
"Have you been crying?"
"No," I said in a shaky voice.
"Yes you have."
"No I h-haven't. Can you leave now?"

"Sure, whatever. If you feel like talking, then just come to my room."
"Uh, thanks," I said, as he picked himself up off of the duvet and walked out of the door. He closed it so gently for someone with such strong hands and I heard his footsteps down the corridor. A gentle rhythm, like his nails on the arm of the sofa earlier, sent me to sleep.

I woke up in the morning and showered. Pressing a few random buttons that I didn't quite understand, I let sponges and exfoliating pads scrub me with a shower gel that was scented with peaches. Jets rinsed all of the pale orange lather off and cleaned my hair until it squeaked and then the warm air gently dried me.

I pinned my fringe back and ran my fingers through my hair. I rummaged through the drawers to find something to wear and settled on a simple pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a baby pink and white V-neck. I dabbed on a hint of the peachy perfume that matched the shower gel and decided to make my way to breakfast.

The dining room was filled with all kinds of delicious Capitol foods – fried potatoes, eggs, meat, soups, stews and the fresh crusty bread I adored so much. Finnick was sat there, his eyes tired and sore, drinking hot chocolate from a huge mug and spearing scrambled eggs onto the end of his fork. I sat opposite him tentatively, taking a small bowl of chicken soup, some fried potatoes and bread.

"So, did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Sort of," I shrugged. "When do we arrive in the Capitol? I'm bored as hell on this stupid train."

"About a day and a half."
"Ugh," I groaned. "I'm so claustrophobic here, and the constant jogging of the carriages is making me feel sick."
"There's more important things to think about, like, who should we be allies with? And what is our strategy? Not only for the actual games, but for the interviews too."
"We need a strategy?"
"You didn't have one the first time?"
"No, I was just being me."
"Explains your lack of sponsors," he chuckled. I glared at him and he continued. "I thought you were pulling off that mysterious and twisted thing."

"Great," I laughed. "You didn't even need one," I thought, thinking of that expensive trident that floated down to him in a silver parachute.

"What did you get from your sponsors?"
"I didn't have sponsors."
"None? Then how did you win? And why didn't you have any?"

"I won because I was quiet and fast, and I managed to get knives from the Cornucopia. Because I didn't take too much from there, the other kids were busy picking off the ones with lots of supplies, or the strong ones. I had run away whilst they were all still fighting. Then, I just crept up on people whilst they were on their own. Washing, changing, going to the toilet," I cringed. He laughed. "I put my hands over their mouths and slit their throats, every time."

"Why didn't you have any sponsors?"
"'Cause I was a skinny little kid from a poorer family of District 4, with moderate acne and not too pretty a face. Plus I threw my time with the Gamemakers and got a 3."
"A 3?" he said, nervously. He was probably rethinking his offer of friendship before.

"I didn't do anything. Made a hook and sat down humming to myself for the whole fifteen minutes."

"Why?"
"Because although the sponsors didn't think I was anything special, neither did the other tributes, and they left me alone because they didn't think I was any danger."
"Clever."

"Kind of," I said, finishing the soup. "What are we going to do today?"

"Well, it's about nine," he checked his watch. "I was thinking, I was going to draw out a plan for when we were in the arena, think about what kind of things we need, and who we are going to target. Then lunch, and then we could chill out, you could draw and I could go… do something or whatever," Finnick ended.

"Sounds okay, I guess."

"You guess?"
"Thinking about who we're going to target will be hard," I thought, thinking of Beetee and Wiress, and all the other tributes that I could remember.
"I suppose," he said. It was unspoken, but I knew what we were both thinking. If we were gonna survive, we might have to kill the other. I didn't know Finnick too well, but the thought of it made me feel sick. Strangely it comforted me to see that he didn't look too good either.

"We'll do it anyway, though," I decided, firmly.

"If you're sure," he said. We finished up the glasses of milk and water and went into the living room, sitting at the table. One of the Avoxes managed to get us a large sketch pad where Finnick wrote down all the names of the second time tributes.

We spent a bit of time writing down the things that we needed – water, food, weapons, allies, medicine. We were interrupted by a familiar face knocking at the door.

"Hi, kids."
"H-Haymitch Abernathy?" I asked, recognising the drunken face from the year before where he fell over at the reaping.

"That's me, sweetheart," he pulled up a chair. "Hey, Finnick."
"Hi."
"We need your help when you go in the arena."
"In what? And how did you get on here?" Finnick asked. He seemed a little more informal but then I remembered they probably knew each other.

"You took a fuel stop early in the morning and I got on the platform. I'll switch over again later. In the arena – number one, protect Katniss. Number two, help with the resistance."

"Resistance?"

"It all ends in the Quarter Quell. It ends now. Listen to me and listen well because I'm only going to repeat this once, okay?"

At lunch, we thought about this plan over dark pink beetroot soup.
"What do you think? Should we help?" he asked.

"You're actually asking my opinion? What do I know?"
"Well… I don't know much either, but I do know that I'm sick of the Capitol and maybe this could actually work."

"I suppose…"
"And you do know… stuff – you're intelligent enough."
"What?"
"I watched your Games… you're pretty intelligent."
"If you had time to watch my Games, why didn't you mentor me?"

"For exactly the reasons that I hate the Capitol."
"Explanation?"
"I'll explain later," he said, as the Avoxes brought in some kind of rich pork stew in a dark pinkish sauce to match the soup. It tasted of sweet tomatoes and chillies and I decided it was now my favourite Capitol food.

"But anyway…"
"You're intelligent enough and like it or not, we're allies. So I want your opinion. Are we in?" he said, looking at me. I thought of it for a second.

"Sure, we're in."

In the afternoon, I sat and drew, flowers, scenes from the windows of the train, whatever popped into my head. Finnick tucked his feet underneath the sofa and did sit-ups, hundreds, too many to count – with some out-of-breath conversation.

"Are you not going to work out?" he asked.

"Bit too late now, really. What should I do?"
"Build some muscle."
"Practically impossible for me. I've been trying to put on a little bit of weight for ages – I can't build anything. Doomed to be a runt," I chuckled, shading in a petal. "Unlike you, Mr. Muscle Man. Look at those abs."
"Ha!" he laughed, shooting me a grin. "Anyway, it's not like you're fat at all. You've got a runner's physique anyway, so you don't need to do much."

"So we have to look after Katniss, huh?"
"On the bright side…"
"There's a bright side?"
"We're both going to live. And so will Katniss and Peeta at least. We shall see Mags another day," he said.

"But, this is going to get the Capitol pissed as hell. The living part, are you sure?" I laughed nervously.

"Don't worry. We could fight off the Capitol! They got nothing on us," Finnick said. I knew that he was lying, or maybe just embroidering the truth a little but to be honest. I didn't really care. Seeing as I wasn't one for things like this, I think I wanted to just leave it.

"What's the time?"
"Four-ish."

"We have the parade tomorrow, don't we?"
"Yup, we get to meet our stylists and prep teams."
"I wish I had Cinna. Katniss' dresses have been amazing. How could you beat the girl that was on fire in the parade?"

"I'm sure they'll think up something. Last time, though, I had this old lady and she just put me in swim shorts – that was no fun."
"I think I had the same old lady. The one who had like sea-green skin, right?"
"It was more forest when I had her, I think. Well, she's not going to be doing us this time," he explained.

"Why not?"
"She died on the 71st Hunger Games, and they've been changing around designers and stuff almost every year."
"Great. God knows what whack job we'll get stuck with. Probably just drench us in water," I muttered.

"I'm going to go and shower before dinner. I'll talk to you then, okay?" Finnick left the room, the footsteps like the night before making an even rhythm. I sat on the sofa, sketching a landscape, until the Avox came in to tap me on the shoulder and call me into the dining room. I sat, opposite a newly-washed Finnick. He seemed oblivious to the fact he was wearing a tight little vest top and a pair of plaid pyjama pants and you could see every muscle. I looked into my lap to hide the fact I was blushing slightly.

An Avox slipped me a menu.

Starter –

Watercress soup/Goat's cheese tartlet

Fish course –

Spiced marinated fish with sea vegetables/Salmon on a bed of rice

Main course –

Steak béarnaise with fried potatoes/Pasta in a tomato and herb sauce

Dessert –

Chocolate fudge cake and cream/Strawberry cheesecake with fresh strawberries

"Um, I'll have the tartlet, the salmon, the pasta and the cheesecake please," Finnick asked her.
"I'll have soup, steak – no fried potatoes – and strawberries please. Just the strawberries. Boy, look at your appetite."
"Look at your lack of one. Is something up?"

"Not particularly," I said.

We chatted endlessly over the food as evening drew on into night. Suddenly, I felt ill and rushed into the bathroom, where I proceeded to see everything I had eaten that day all over again. I mean, I don't mind Capitol food but I don't need to taste it twice. I knelt in a cold sweat over the bowl of the toilet. It automatically flushed.
"Cheers. Thanks for that," I said. Maybe the sickness made me want to talk to inanimate objects. Brilliant.

I walked into my own bedroom and then the bathroom drowsily, running my hands through my hair which was now matted and damp from the cold sweat. I pressed some random buttons in the shower so the jets alternated between really warm and really cold, which kind of woke me up. Exfoliating pads rubbed me with sandalwood oils and vanilla shower gel until I didn't feel ill anymore. I washed my hair and stepped out of the shower, looking at myself in the slightly misted mirror until the mist went.

Great, Harper, you look amazing. The pads in the shower have scrubbed you red raw and blotchy, your hair looks scraggly and unordered and your eyes look watery, squinted even. Also where you're not red, you look feeble and pale from the vomit earlier. Sort yourself out before you even speak to anyone. Especially Finnick. No, wait, why especially Finnick? What's so special about- oh God no. Seriously, sort yourself out.

I rinsed my face with ice water, pinched my cheeks and brushed my hair and teeth. I then put on a white nightdress and some white slippers and checked the time. About eight. The carpet bouncing under my feet, I went through the carriages into the living room, where Finnick was sitting watching the television mindlessly.

"Hey. Sorry for that," I apologized.

"Oh yeah, sorry for being ill," he mocked. "I went into the kitchen and asked them what was wrong."
"I thought we weren't allowed in the kitchen."
"Well, we aren't, but anyway, I went in the kitchen and it turns out the meat gave you some kind of weird fast-acting food poisoning. You're gonna have to eat a big breakfast tomorrow to get your strength back up, they said."

"Great," I said, rubbing my stomach.
"But you're okay, right?"
"I'm fine," I said. "What are they showing?"
"That crappy soap opera again. It's not much, but it's better than usual."
"I'm so tired," I said, rubbing my eyes.

"Go to sleep then."
"It's too early. If I sleep now, I won't sleep through the night and then I'll be up too early and tired again, oh God, this is a vicious cycle, then I'll be tired in training and get an awful score and then no-one will sponsor us…"
"Way to over-react," he laughed.
"Hmph."
"And anyway," he smirked, putting an arm around me, "it's only you that would lose sponsors. Not a problem with me."

"Hmph."
"Cheer up, trouble," he carried on laughing.
"Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're funny."
"Hmph."
"Stop stropping," he said. "I'll go."
"No, don't go. I'm tired."
"Then isn't it a good thing that I go?"
"No, because you need to keep me awake for a bit."
"Okay then, come here and we'll watch some TV?"

He held open his arms and I settled myself with my head on his chest to watch some TV.

I woke up with the same groggy feeling in my head and heavy eyelids that I had the morning before.
Oh my God, Harper, you're laying on Finnick Odair's chest. The infamous Finnick Odair, the one that every girl in your district, no, in the country continually lusts over. Even Mags probably wouldn't say no to Finnick Odair, and you're laid on his god damn freaking CHEST. I screamed a minute and then clapped my hand over my mouth.

"F-Finnick, are you still asleep?"
"Not anymore," he said grudgingly. "But yes, yes I was."
"I'm so sorry for falling asleep."
"I fell asleep before you," he said, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh. Hahaha," I said. "What's the time?"
"Do you always need to know the time?"
"Always."

"It's around nine."
"Crap! We need to get up, like now, we must be so near to the Capitol!"
"We have an hour or so yet, I guess."
"I think I should go and get dressed."
"Uh, okay then…"
"You're not going to?"
"All the prep team tend to do is undress me anyway," he winked.

What is with all this flirting? Or is it not? Jesus.

"I wonder what they'll put me in."
"I'll meet you at the chariot, trouble," he said, and wandered off to his bedroom. I blushed again. Things were getting very weird.