I don't own The Hunger Games. They belong to The Hunger Games.

Finnick's POV

My foot taps on the floor nervously, my arms crossed tightly across my chest. I tighten my grip until it hurts and stare at the screen harshly. My eyes remain solely focused on Katniss, although they flick to Gabriel every now and then.

Katniss looks to be scanning the Cornucopia, searching for something to help her survive in the Games and although inwardly I can't stand to stomach the thought of her rushing into a battlefield, I also know that something as simple as a match can make all the difference when you're all by yourself in unknown territory. I look for the closest thing to her, which is a pack of knives, and I'm torn between wanting her to get to it and wanting her to run as far from the bloodbath as possible.

Katniss's eyes skim over it, but she doesn't focus on it, obviously looking for something a little more useful for her. Then, she looks straight up and she locks her gaze on a beautiful, silver bow. It's perfectly positioned, just for her, conveniently placed right in her path. It must be like torture, knowing that the bow is her best chance at surviving and having to debate on whether or not she should go for it. I beg her not to, although I know that she can't hear or see me. It's too far away and even if she gets there first, she wouldn't have the time to run away before another, stronger tribute took her out.

The holographic timer counts down the seconds and time seems both faster and slower than ever. I can remember my own time in the arena, muscles tense and ready, leaning forward and preparing to run to the nearest weapon, all thoughts of the plans that I had before entering the arena completely vanishing from my mind for the moment.

Gabriel looks terrified, having no experience in killing other than the basic survival skills that he learned in school. I wasn't very surprised when we didn't have a volunteer for him this year, although I can remember feeling pity at seeing him on stage at the Reaping, shaking in his formal, black expensive shoes.

"Everyone is talking about how District Four isn't going to be a Career district for much longer," a silky voice calls behind me and I turn towards the sound slowly, reluctant to take my eyes off of the screen. The mentor's room is situated so that half of the districts, One, Three, Five, Seven, Nine, and Eleven are on one side and the other half, Two, Four, Six, Eight, Ten, and Twelve are on another side. It's a long and luxurious room, with the most recent and top of the style furniture set up by the Capitol's best homemakers.

Leaning back in her white leather chair is Cashmere, a wine glass filled with water in her hands and smiling at me behind the clear container. The glass is cut elegantly, jewels scattered across it ranging from diamonds to rubies. It doesn't surprise me that she'd go out of her way to find the flashiest item to do something as simple as drink water. Flashy and original is her style after all.

"Is that so?" I question her, my own voice becoming just as sensual as hers is.

"I believe it, too. When was the last time District Four had a victor?" she asks me, her voice trailing off.

"Only four years ago," I answer her immediately. "Annie won the 70th Hunger Games."

"And that was obviously a mistake," Cashmere shrugs her shoulder, although her voice is sharper than it usually is. I know that she's still hung up about Annie's win. Before the flood came in and drowned out the rest of the remaining tributes, her female tribute was showing the most potential.

"She was a Career," I immediately begin to defend Annie, pitying her situation.

Before going into the Arena, Annie was actually pretty charming with a winning smile that could appeal to even President Snow. We had a few short conversations in passing where she would tell me what she would do when she became the Victor. Once she came out though, she was never the same, zoning out into her own world and unwilling to face reality. All of her dreams and goals in life were sucked out of her the second she saw her district partner's head fly off of his body and roll onto the ground. As far as I was concerned, they never did share much of a relationship, seeming to avoid each other as much as they could, so it was shocking when Annie visibly broke on the screen.

Annie had collapsed on to the ground and crawled back from the rest of the Careers as they taunted her for being affected by his death. They let her escape, preferring to have her drag out the rest of her, what they thought would be, short life in pain rather than to kill her immediately and end her suffering.

Sometimes I wish that they just killed her and got it over with. Now Annie would have to live in a false world with nobody to comfort and care for her but her own mother. I tried to talk to her when she came out, knowing the trauma that came with being a Victor, but she had screamed and thrashed and screeched whenever another person so much as looked at her.

The doctors had to drug her to even get her into the auditorium to have her Victor's ceremony and she had spent her interview with Caesar Flickerman giggling at the effects of the drugs. By the time that I realized that she was too far gone for me to help, it hurt for me to look at her, having witness her downfall from a beautiful and strong girl into someone who had to have her own mother force feed her everyday.

"Now that's just insulting," Cashmere's brother, Gloss, says, his voice laced with disgust. Gloss took great pride in being a Career, seeing them as better than the tributes from the outer districts. The siblings laugh at that, lightheartedly.

I hum in reply to them, unwilling to continue our talk, and turn back to the screen the moment the countdown turns to 0. My hands grip the arm of the chair, my short fingernails digging into the soft and plushy material. Katniss wastes no time hopping off of the podium, unlike Gabriel who seems frozen in place. She sprints forward at a dizzying pace and I have to fight against myself to keep my eyes open.

She's quick, but she's not the fastest, and it doesn't take long for another, male tribute to tackle her to the ground. He raises an axe, looking to be preparing himself for his first murder. I avert my gaze, looking up at the ceiling, refusing to watch him take her life but also not wanting the others to see how death has really affected me.

When I originally "asked" Katniss out on a date, it was strictly out of curiosity, no feelings involved. But combined with our long conversations on the roof and last night, it didn't take me long to develop some semblance of feelings for the younger girl. It seems like a cliché, but she was different from the rest of the women that I've met.

The Capitol women sickened me, deep within my core, despite how I had to act as if they were the most desirable women I've ever met.

Johanna was relieving and it didn't take long for us to strike up a friendship despite her bitterness for her family and friend's deaths after refusing to agree to President Snow's prostitution request. But the feelings that I held for Johanna were merely platonic, even though I am touched that she considered me a friend of hers, when she is so closed up and private. Johanna would have my head if she knew what I was thinking, but inwardly I know that I was one of the few people she actually liked.

I wouldn't say that Cashmere and I were friends, but there was an understanding between the two of us that came with being the Capitol's sex slaves. She may act like the haughtiest woman in the world, but I know that she is just as affected as I am, playing a façade that seems so fake to us but so real to the outside world.

Katniss is an enigma all her own. She was so crass when she first met me, and I knew that it was because of my reputation as a playboy. She was defensive and closed off and would rather cut off her own fingers than tell me anything about her personal life, but eventually she started opening up to me.

Her sister is the most precious thing in her life and their hideous orange cat is her worst enemy. She used to like to read, but when her dad died, she was forced to give up that hobby in favor of feeding her family. Katniss was amazing and charming in her own way and although I knew that I had to be careful around her, knowing that there was no guarantee that she would survive the Hunger Games, I also knew that I would also be affected by her death, which is why I couldn't stand to watch it now, I didn't want to put myself through one more nightmare.

"Goddamn it, Sweetheart," I hear Haymitch cuss, farther down from me. "Scared the shit outta me." And I know that she's alive. My eyes flicker back down to the screen and I'm oddly relieved to find the dead eyes of Katniss's opponent staring eerily into the camera. Katniss is long gone by now, disappearing into the trees with a big, bright, bulging backpack on. She's going to need to camouflage that eventually, I ponder, but a large grin creeps onto my face without my permission and I can't stand the feeling of euphoria that takes over me.

Katniss has survived the bloodbath.

Katniss's POV

"Peeta?" I ask, my voice a whisper and questioning. He jerks up from the stream immediately, scrambling to his feet in fear before he sees that it is me.

"Katniss?" he questions before grinning happily and heading towards me, jumping on the drier rocks that are protruding from the river. I step back in caution automatically and falter as his smile falls. "You think I'd hurt you?"

"What? No!" I stutter out, feeling bad at hurting his feelings. "No, sorry. I didn't even mean to do it, I'm just sorta…" I trail off, knowing that he'd understand what I'm trying to say.

The smile is back, smaller than his original grin, but still there. It's contagious and I smile back at him, happy to have run into him.

"It's so good to see you," Peeta tells me, voicing out what I was thinking.

"I know. I didn't know if we'd see each other again when the Games began," I reply back to him. Suddenly remembering just how thirsty I am, I walk past him and to the water, opening the lid of the water bottle I got in the bright orange bag dipping it into the stream. It fills up within a couple of seconds and I carefully squeeze a single drop of iodine into it, twisting the cap back into place.

I place the water bottle on the ground and eye the stream hungrily. I'm tempted to take a handful of water and gulp it down like a madman, but I know that it's not safe.

"What was that?" Peeta asks, nodding over to the small bottle of iodine.

"It's just something that you're supposed to use to clean the water," I answer him, staring at the beautiful, clear body of water that's passing by steadily.

"Oh," Peeta exhales, and I know that he's worried for himself now. He obviously hadn't thought that the water might have been dirty before he started to drink.

"Don't worry about it," I try to soothe him, although I'm not so sure if he's going to be 100% okay. "It was just one time, but you can use mine now." Inadvertently telling him that he's allowed to stick with me. Peeta nods his head thoughtfully, but I know that he'll probably continue to think about it for the rest of the day.

"Anyways, how did you get here?" I ask him. I know that I'm faster than him and I haven't seen so much as a glimpse of him since I left the bloodbath.

"Well, the bloodbath is over there," he points behind me from where I've run from and I nod to him, signaling him to continue. "And you know how we were all line up in a circle, surrounding the cornucopia? Well, when the timer sounded, I just turned around and ran, I didn't even bother going to the cornucopia, which is why I don't have anything. You must have either ran through the cornucopia or ran around it."

"Then why were you on the other side of the stream?" I question him.

"I just kinda crossed it as a precaution," he answers, scratching the back of his head, embarrassingly. "Just in case someone else came across me, I figured that I might have a head start if they decided to kill me."

"That's a good idea," I murmur, not having thought of that beforehand. It may have only saved him a couple of seconds, but it could have been life saving.

"Yeah, I'm not much of a survivalist, so I'm just trying to think of the small things that could keep me alive," he says sheepishly. "Anything helps."

"You're right," I agree with him. "Every little thing can be the difference from life and death." A quiet step in the forest can hide you away from the predators lurking in the shadows.

A few moments later, I deem the water healthy and gulp down the whole bottle in less than a minute, grateful for the liquid sliding down my throat. When I'm finished I immediately refill the bottle again, dropping another bit of iodine in it.

Peeta and I sit around the stream, tense and ready to run away at a moment's notice, discussing strategies. I allow him to finish the bottle of water I've just recently filled up, although he was a bit reluctant to drink, saying that he wasn't thirsty. I'd convinced him to take it when I told him that we don't know if we'll ever see another stream again after we leave.

"So, we're going to go east?" Peeta confirms for the fifth time since we've come to a conclusion.

"Yeah, we'll need to get as far from the Cornucopia as possible," I tell him. "The Careers don't like to wander too far from it until the very last minute. The Cornucopia has everything they could ever need and they'll be reluctant to move without it."

"Sounds good, but what happens when they find us?" Peeta asks, he doesn't say if, we both know that we can only run for so long.

"Do you know how to climb trees?" I question him, although I know that he probably doesn't. Climbing trees is something that the Seam kids do for fun, considering that we don't have the luxury of buying board games and puzzles like the Town kids. Peeta shakes his head, his face laced with embarrassment.

I get up from my position on the ground and motion for him to do the same. He follows me obediently, and I can't help but notice just how loud his footsteps are on the dead leaves littering the ground in a sea of brown and light orange.

Walking over to the nearest, safe tree I eye it carefully. "You want to look for the tallest one with the most branches to grab on to. Because you weigh more than me, you'll need to look for sturdy branches, too." I point at a random branch that looks strong enough to me. "Like that one. Make sure that there's a lot of branches like that one." Peeta nods at my lecture avidly, sucking in as much knowledge as I tell him.

"Ok, then…" I trail off, trying to strategize how to do this. I grip onto the branch closest to me, lifting my left foot until it rests onto a piece of the tree that juts out, conveniently. "So first, you have to find a good spot to put your foot, then you grab the branch and just sorta heft yourself up." I make a motion to demonstrate what to do.

"That's it?" Peeta laughs, his eyes twinkling in amusement and I smile back at him. There's something about Peeta that could make you carefree even though we're both at risk of death in every twist and turn. I'm grateful that I've found him, although it hurts me to know that we both can't win. I still owe him for saving my life all those years ago, and I struggle to think of how to pay my debt while still keeping my life.

"It's not hard," I encourage him. "But it's useful. If you're up there before them and they follow you, you have the advantage. It's easier for you to kick them off than for them to get ahold of you. You try."

Peeta takes my place on the tree, mimicking the position that I just had. He hefts himself on the first branch easily and clambers up a few more feet before becoming stuck.

"I don't know where to put my foot," he calls down to me, his foot raising and resting on a small dent in the tree. He tries to pull himself up but his foot slips and he returns to his previous stance.

"Over there!" I point over to a spot a little further away from him. He'll need to widen his legs a bit more and it might be a little uncomfortable, but it would work.

We spent around twenty minutes on the tree, inspecting it critically and pointing out the good spots and bad spots to grab a branch and to put his foot. When he returns to the ground, he stretches his arms and legs.

"So maybe it isn't as easy as it looks," he says jokingly.

"You'll get better with practice," I tell him and we both become silent after that. Will the next time really be for practice purposes or will he be clambering up the tree for survival instead of fun?

"So how fast can you go?" Peeta clears his throat, looking down at me questioningly.

"More than twice as fast as you," I tease, considering that I've been climbing trees since I was five and have continued it up until now. Although instead of it being for fun now, I climb trees to hide away from my prey and to get a better shot on the land animals. "I haven't had this much fun climbing trees since I taught Prim."

"Oh yeah, I've seen her at school before," Peeta wonders. "In the trees. You taught her?"

"Yeah, she loves to do it," I reply back to him, my mind going back to Prim. It took her awhile to get a hang of it, but when she mastered it, it became her favorite pastime. "She likes to watch the birds. Prim has a way with animals." Usually birds would fly away from humans the moment they felt they were being watched, but somehow Prim has found a way to get them to like her, some of them even allowing her to hold them by now.

"I think she likes to feed them," Peeta muses. "I saw her throw a few scraps of food at them." I wince at that, feeling angry at her for wasting food that I work so hard to get when others are starving but also knowing that that's what makes Prim, Prim.

"Yeah, she would…" I murmur a reply. "I bet that she's mad at you for telling me." I laugh it off, even though I know that laughing is the farthest thing from her mind right now. I hope that she isn't even watching this in the first place.

"She was doing it in private," Peeta muses. "Bet she was trying to hide that from you."

"Of course she was, she knows that I'd be mad at her if I knew," I laugh, imagining Prim trying to be sneaky. She's not exactly the stealthiest person out there.

I can see Peeta smile at my laugh and it hits me that this is probably the first time he's ever seen me really laugh since my dad died. Sure, we had shared a few jokes and I laughed, but it came out forced at best and never carefree, I can basically recall each and every time that I've laughed without worry since my dad died. Not to say that I haven't smiled or laughed since my dad died, it's just that I became more private after the incident, not willing to become friends with just anyone. It's easier to get hurt when you open yourself to other people. Prim and Gale, and occasionally Madge, were probably the only people to ever see me away from my cold and serious attitude. Back at District Twelve, I have to remind myself, because ever since coming to the Capitol and meeting Finnick, he has somehow managed to do what so many people have failed at: Comfort me.

"I miss them," I breathe out, heavily. I think back to Prim's face bright up when she saw me come home with dinner and Gale's jokes out in the meadow and even though it's been less than two hours since I last saw Finnick, I miss him, too. I miss his genuine smiles and his talk about surviving for my loved ones, although I can go without his cocky smirk. Actually, nah, his haughty attitude is what makes him Finnick Odair.

"Me too," Peeta agrees, zoning out into his own world. Peeta is more social than me, so he must have more people to miss. But whereas Peeta has a lot of little friends that share his love, I have only a few people who I love unconditionally.

Back in District Twelve, Peeta was the social butterfly that everyone liked and nobody hated. Well, maybe his mother hated him, but that grumpy witch basically hates the world and everyone that inhabits it. How in the hell did that devil spawn someone like Peeta? I'm lucky that Peeta inherited his father's personality, knowing that if Peeta was anything like his mom, I wouldn't be standing here speaking to him so carelessly. In fact, I know that if Peeta was like his mother one of us would be lying stone cold dead on the ground.

"I want to go back home already," Peeta mourns, wanting for his old life back in District Twelve.

"We can't think like that," I clear my throat, trying to get back into my serious train of thought. "We haven't even been here for a day, if we spend the rest of our time here dragging our feet and thinking about our home life, we're going to be miserable."

Peeta sighs one last time before picking himself back up and smiling at me, wiping away all traces of sadness from his face.

"You're right," Peeta agrees. "Let's just get through this day by day. What comes after that, we'll see."

Finnick's POV

Out of everyone that she could have run into it had to be her District Partner? I fight the urge to groan, irritated at the heavy feeling weighing on my chest. Couldn't it be that young girl from District Eleven? Or even that smart girl from District Five that would have simply ran away? Hell, it may have even been better if she just ran into a Career. Then, she could have killed them and just walked away, which is better than the uncomfortable emotion that is coursing through me.

No, I inwardly argue with myself. All Katniss has is a knife that she doesn't even really know how to use.

I think back to our long conversations back on the roof and reminisce about when she told me she knew how to use a bow and arrow, for hunting purposes only. I had questioningly asked her if she knew how to throw a knife, too, because it would be a useful skill in the Arena, and was disappointed when she told me that she never learned how.

Seeing Katniss teach Peeta how to climb a tree has left me feeling betrayed, even though I know that she doesn't have any kind of romantic feeling for him. The interviews taught me that much, remembering how Katniss basically attacked Peeta when he announced his love for her on live TV in front of hundreds of Capitol citizens.

I schooled my face into indifference when they started laughing and joking around about her younger sister wasting food to feed the birds. Gabriel had died in the bloodbath, knifed down by his own District partner, and I have never hated Sandy more. District partners were supposed to be companions and she turned on him the second she saw him frozen in place, still perched on his podium.

At least she made it fast, I reasoned, She could have dragged it out like the cruel bitch that she is.

I remember watching his death, how he locked eyes with the older girl and wordlessly begged her to let him go. She grinned and stabbed him in the chest multiple times, until she was absolutely certain that he was dead. The first hit probably killed him, considering how close it was to his heart, but the rest definitely assured his fate. The whole event lasted less than thirty seconds, but to me it felt like a lifetime.

He's better off dead than alone in the Arena, I think, he would have been so scared. Gabriel was always too nice, couldn't kill a person even if he was looking death in the face. I tried to remain aloof with him, preferring not to get too close to my tributes, considering that most of them died anyways and the last one that came out could be called insane, and that would be generous.

But somehow the boy had grown on me, with his offhand comments that seemed so dense at times and his friendly gestures. I knew that he had to die from the moment that I started to enjoy Katniss's company. They both couldn't live and if I had to choose between the two of them, I would choose Katniss hand down. Although, I would live the rest of my life ridden with guilt at having to choose.

Besides, Gabriel would just turn out to be another Annie Cresta anyways. Even if he did win, which everyone knew he wouldn't, what he witnessed in the Arena would overpower his sanity. Katniss is a survivor. She would be affected by the Games, but who wasn't? Katniss could handle it in the end, if only for her little sister: Primrose.

I think about Primrose. Katniss had spoke about her reverently, as if she was an almighty Godly being. Asides from that brief and blurry glance that I got of her in the Reaping, I never really got to see the young girl. But by the way that Katniss spoke about her, I really wanted to. Wispy blonde hair, shining blue eyes, twelve years old, and the complete opposite of Katniss, she explained to me.

She spent more than half an hour going on and on about how great her little sister was, and I knew that her love for Prim could be unrivaled. When Katniss realized that she was rambling, she finished her sentence trailing off, probably embarrassed by how obvious she worshipped her sister.

Our conversation then led to me explaining everything about District Four, from the ships that littered the docks to the sunny beaches with warm waves to the secret caves that I hid away in every now and then.

When I finished describing District Four up until the very last detail, she told me about District Twelve. I had seen the District in passing when I was having my Victor tour a little less than ten years ago, but asides from the heavy air and soot stained homes, I could hardly remember the poorer District.

I kept my eyes on the screen, leaning forward until my cheek rested on my upturned hand. I smiled when Katniss giggled, although it wasn't the first time I had ever heard her laugh. She had a deep and throaty laugh that was refreshing, considering all of the high-pitched giggles from the Capitol women that I was forced to listen to.

"You jealous?" Johanna snickers from somewhere behind me. "They're obviously having some fun in there."

I smirk back to her, confident in myself. "Why would I ever be jealous of him?" I laugh it off.

"Maybe it's because he's trying to steal your girl," Johanna tries to rouse me.

"My girl?" I ask her, sounding incredulous, even though the sound of that makes my chest swell with pride. "Now you're just being ridiculous."

"You can't tell me that you're anything less than friends," Johanna rolls her eyes. "Why else are you here?" She's referring to the fact that even though my tribute is long gone, I'm still hanging out in the mentor room, watching Katniss's cam.

"We're friends," I shrug, not lying. I may have a bit of romantic feelings for Katniss, but I would never allow it to mature into something bigger. It would be too dangerous for us to get close, even though I wanted to have a relationship with her, it would be better for both of us if we simply remained friends, just like Johanna and I.

"Yeah, friends…" Johanna trails off, dryly, not believing me.

"Why are you here?" I ask her, reminded her that her own tribute died in the bloodbath, too.

"Waiting for you to hurry the hell up so that we could get back on the hovercraft and go home," Johanna urges me. Once a tribute was killed, their mentor was free to go back to their own District until the next reaping. A hovercraft would be readied among request and we'd be flown back to the Capitol, where we'd hop onto a train home.

"Actually, I'm going to stay here for a little longer," I tell her. "Just until Sandy dies, then I'll escort Mags back home. It'll be easier for her if she has me to accompany her," I try to come up with a reason as to why I needed to stay, not wanting to tell her that I just wanted to watch Katniss.

Since I'm not her mentor, there isn't much that I could do for her anyways. Figuratively speaking, I'm about as useful watching her here as watching her back at home. But, at least I could try to coax a few things out of Haymitch, maybe pass on a little advice when he's a little too far gone. At the very least, I could focus solely on Katniss here, where I can control which tribute I want to watch. If I went home, I'd be limited to seeing only what the Gamemakers want us to watch, which is usually where the most action or interest was.

"Yeah, sure," Johanna agrees, her voice light-hearted for once. "I mean, it's not like Mags has ever stopped you from hopping onto a hovercraft back home before, but yeah, I mean the reason as to why you want to stay, obviously has nothing to do with Katniss Everdeen." I should have known that if she sounds friendly, it's a trick.

She walks away after that, not mad at me but not happy either. Johanna doesn't like Katniss, although she is fascinated by her. Johanna doesn't like how Katniss used me to get more sponsors and she thinks that she and Peeta had set something up previously to the interview to make the so-called "Star-crossed lovers" act. I know otherwise, but Johanna is nothing if not stubborn and refuses to believe my reasoning.

I can see some of the mentors from the other districts look over at me curiously, no doubt wondering why I wasn't going home, but I just flashed them a grin and turned back to the screen.

Oh Katniss, why must you cause me so much trouble?

Hey, guys. Sorry about the first bit... I screwed up on the organization of my chapters. The first bit, with Finnick's POV, was actually supposed to be on the last chapter. Thank you to all of the reviews and I'm striving onward with this fanfiction. I've decided that when the time comes, I'm going to remain this 'In Progress', just to give you guys a heads-up. I'll be reminding you guys every chapter up until it's time for me to rename it. I don't want to rename it now because the name doesn't contribute to the story right now.