Next chapter we get into the Games, so it'll probably take me a little longer to post due to doing research on the survival skills needed for the type of Arena I plan on writing.

Hope everyone is enjoying this, and to those who also endured Blizzard 2016, hope you were able to stay warm and safe

I own nothing

Manaliac, Gelline Eaton, Kushina Nar, Sorciere174: Thank you so much for the reviews :)

I can feel the pounding of my heart thudding in my chest and rushing in my ears. Branches and twigs slap against my face as I run through the undergrowth. Behind me I hear the shouts and calls of The Careers gaining on me. Rushing down a hill blindly, I trip and stumble over an exposed tree root.

I fall through time and space to find myself standing in a meadow of flowers, the whites of their petals wrapped tight in large buds. But then the blossoms open and from the centers blood slowly drips to the ground. But as the oozing liquid touches the leaves, they dissolve revealing corpses beneath. I draw back in horror at seeing the mangled bodies of Koren and Calluna staring blindly up at me, their mouths gasping in a constant dying breath. The sickeningly heavy scent of roses chokes me as the scene changes once more.

Suddenly I'm back on top of the waterfall and Peeta is in front of me yelling at me to run. But suddenly his face goes blank and a large red stain covers his chest. He falls to the ground and I'm paralyzed, unable to cry out or move to try and catch him. Instead my gaze is locked on Finnick, a large bloody Trident in his hand. His eyes are dark and cold holding no emotion at all. He calmly steps towards me and while every instinct screams at me to run, I instead reach out to him. Finnick moves closer and closer until he is a breath away from me. I can see the flecks of blue in his eyes, can differentiate the gold colored sun-bleached streaksof blond in his bronze hair. And then I feel a blinding pain in my lower stomach as he trusts his weapon into me. I let out a gasping groan as he retracts the Trident and grabs a hold of my arm.

Remember who the real enemy is." He whispers against my lips, just before he pushes me over the rushing water to the rocks below.

"No! Finnick!" I scream jolting awake. I sit up quickly, pulling my knees to my chest as I will my breathing to slow from the short shallow gasps I'm currently taking. No one comes in to check on me so I gratefully assume my outburst hasn't woken anyone. Tugging a hand through my sweat damp hair I heave a sigh.

After my earlier fight with Finnick I had been listless and easily distracted by my heavy guilty concence. I had been able to force my focus through the interview with Caesar, boasting of Koren's use of a war hammer and feats of strength as well as Calluna's quick sure-footedness in knife attacks. I was able to avoid mentions of Peeta, to which I was extremely grateful. I wasn't sure if I would have been able to stomach weeping over our Games after all Finnick had said.

Throwing my covers to the side I creep from my room to the kitchen. Opening one of the cabinets I take a glass down from the shelf and fill it half full with water. Sipping slowly I feel the cool liquid flow the whole way down to my stomach. Hearing someone making their way down the hall I turn and spy Calluna navigating the path to the kitchen as well, the room dimly illuminated by the surrounding city lights.

"Couldn't sleep?" I ask leaning against the countertop. She silently shakes her head coming to stand on the other side. "You want to talk about it?"

"No." She replies uncertain. Then, "Yes? I don't know." She sighs shrugging frustratedly.

I wait for a moment before she quietly asks, "Were you afraid? For your Games. They always play your Reaping and game highlights in school but…" She faulters, clearly concerned about asking something too personal.

Shaking my head I take her hand in mine and confess, "I was terrified. I'd never been more afraid in my life but I knew I was protecting my sister, and that's what kept me sane. I had nightmares almost every night I was here. I still have them. From time to time." I add quickly to try and reassure her.

"Does anything help keep them away?"

"Peeta did." I tell her, gently retracting my hand.

"You really loved him didn't you?" She ask, an undertone of longing wonder to the sound.

I'm about to say yes, of course I did but once more Finnick's words echo in my ears. So I reply as truthfully as I can. "To be honest, before our Games I barely knew Peeta. We'd see each other around the District but he was from the Merchant side and I grew up in the Seam. But to him it didn't matter. One time he burnt two loaves of bread, and his mother beat him for his carelessness ordering him to give it to the pigs. Instead he through it to me. I was out in the street, scrounging for food. My family hadn't eaten in days. It wasn't until years later that I figured out he burnt that bread on purpose. He knew even in my weakened state I'd be too proud to accept charity, so he made sure it was unusable to anyone who wasn't desperate. Was I in love with Peeta? No. But I love who he was. His kindness, and gentle spirit. I miss him every day, but I also miss that I didn't get the opportunity to know him better. At least when I'd had the chance."

"If I win will they always bring up Koren?"

"Not unless you kill him in a truly spectacular way. Or if you have some secret romance you have yet to reveal." I respond lifting an inquiring eyebrow.

Shaking her head Calluna blushes. "I don't have feelings for Koren. He's not my type." Quietly she adds, "Guys aren't my type, actually."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in but when they do I let out a confused, 'But the other day…Koren said Finnick-"

Even in the low light I could tell she was blushing as dark as that day, maybe even darker. "It wasn't Finnick I was blushing over. It was Annie. When Finnick tried to show me some tricks, Annie leaned in to give me extra pointers and her hair grazed my neck as well as her breast grazed mine. I almost lost it then and there."

"Oh." I manage. "Ok."

An awkward silence descends as we look at each other. The fact Calluna prefers women to men isn't a big deal to me. It's that she's developed feelings for another Tribute. It was potentially even more dangerous than the feelings I had started to develope for Finnick. Whatever those feelings were, I had yet to divine.

Heaving an exaggerated yawn I suggest Calluna return to bed and try to catch some sleep before the Games tomorrow.

Nodding she turns to go but pauses saying, "No matter what happens, know you did your best. Koren and I wouldn't have stood a chance without you and Haymitch."

Feeling my heart and breath cease I will tears not to fall. After a moment of piecing myself back together I take another deep fortifying breath. I know my nightmare has left me too restless to go to bed, but my options for entertainment are limited. With Koren and Calluna heading to the Arena early tomorrow, I don't want to disturb them by turning on the television. Effie would think it rude if I woke her at this hour, and besides I don't want to burden her with my problems. Haymitch is likely passed out in a drunken stupor and it would take an impromptu bath to wake him. And so I follow my feet mindlessly wherever they would take me.

Entering the elevator I stare at the numbers. I don't have my key-card so I can't enter The Oasis, and I don't feel like going back for it. It's raining so the rooftop is out of the question as well. I briefly contemplate visiting the other floors, hoping some of the other Mentors are up, but I quickly dismiss it. If I show up on the Eve of the Games at this time of night, it'd likely be thought I'm spying, seeking last minute alliances, or want to sell out my Tributes. Making my decision I press the button for the ground floor.

Aimlessly navigating my way through the cavernous building, the slap of my bare feet echoes in the dead quiet. I meander for a time but eventually find myself at the Victor's Museum entrance. Given the fact the building is occupied by many of the figures on display, and the reasoning we're all experienced killers, the space is always open to us. The Capital likely sees it as an opportunity to reminiscence when we feel nostalgic.

At the beginning of the museum there is a large exhibit detailing the Rebellion and the defeat of the Districts, resulting in The Hunger Games. It paints the Capital as a benevolent, forgiving society. It makes my teeth itch.

Moving quickly past I briefly glance at the displays of Victors yesteryear. Each displays the name and District of the Victor, the backdrop depicts the Arena terrain they conquered. Many include the Game uniform worn, some in the same state it was in when the Victor was pulled from the arena.

Finally I stop and take in one of the few exhibits I care about. Mags Flanagan, District 4 the display green jumpsuit worn by the faceless mannequin still holds the rips and tears of combat. Behind the life-size doll a large poster depicts a Stoic looking 16 year old with wildly curly red hair, advertising the upcoming Victory Tour. The Arena depicted shows lush, dense jungle. The automated Tour Guide voice, tripped by my approach, tells of how Mags defeated many of her opponents not by brute strength, but trickery. She used her knowledge of plants to poison them. She gathered the hazardous flora and "hid" them in caches all around the Arena. When the other Tributes came upon them most, in their hunger and greed, ate nearly everything they'd discovered. It wasn't until it was too late that they realized their folly.

Continuing on I pause at Woof, Seeder and Cecelia's exhibits with mild interest. At certain intervals there are larger displays informing of The Quaterquells. Every Victor dreads them. Some years twice as many Tributes are Reaped, in others harsher Arenas are constructed, with more Mutts or environmental challenges. Next year is the third Quaterquell, and the Arena built that these Games were to be held in was being sectioned off so that the true scope and magnitude of the Arena's size would remain a mystery until the following year.

Turning a corner I stop in my tracks realizing I'm not the only visitor at this hour. The figure is turned away from me but I can easily tell by the male's hight and lean yet muscular build it's Finnick. Not wanting to go through another round of deplorable animosity, I make to quietly sneak away. As I turn though I step too close to Johanna's exhibit and the automated narrative starts up.

Finnick whips around his eyes instantly zeroing in on me. Surprise is evident on his face, with a brief flicker of amusement. But then he clearly remembers our earlier discussion and a remote blankness takes over.

"Katniss." He states plainly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Something inside me shrinks hearing him call me by my given name. Ever since we met he's called me Kitten, Kat or some other nickname he's come up with, likely on the spot, that he knows will get under my skin.

Unsure of what to say or how to begin I let out a pleading, "Finn."

I see the resistance in his eyes to giving in and I inwardly sigh knowing he isn't going to make this easy. Apologies weren't something I did often so I'd have to wing it and hope for the best.

"I'm sorry." I say quickly, wanting to get it out there before I lost my nerve. "I should have never said those things about you. They were hurtful and spiteful and I just wanted you to know that."

I turn to leave feeling a turbulence of emotion clawing at my stomach but then he calls, "Glad your conscience is clear. Now if I die tomorrow you can look back and tell yourself how you tried patching the bridge before it got demolished."

Freezing with my back turned to him I will myself to resume walking. I had tried to make amends. If he wanted to be petty that was his decision. But that voice inside was drowned out by the desire to not let this narcissistic son of a bitch have the last word.

"Listen here you Megalomaniac." I spin on my heel, marching up to him and giving him a shove. "I said I was sorry. I don't think you realize but that's a big thing for me." I shove him again. "If you don't believe me that's your problem, but me, I'm done feeling guilty about wishing you dead. I didn't mean it." I push him once more, this time knocking him into the display he'd been viewing before he noticed me.

As he falls though he grabs a hold of my hand pulling me down as well. He quickly wraps his arms around me, holding me tight against him so that I land on top of him, his own body acting as a shield against our hard impact. As I lay there momentarily stunned I try to ignore the closeness we share or the salty musk of his skin. I briefly wonder if the Capital's showers have an ocean scented setting.

Grabbing hold of my suddenly rampant imagination I quickly extract myself from Finnick's arms and scramble back to standing. I glare at him as he continues to lay sprawled in the reckage.

"What the Hell is your problem" I demand glaring down at him.

Smirking he chuckles, "Well at least I got to hold the great Katniss Everdeen once."

I stare slack jawed for a second. "Are you kidding me?!" I sputter. "You wreck a museum exhibit just to be able to… ugh! You're so frustrating Odair."

"Well to be fair, you pushed me. So you wrecked the display. Your display actually." He quips, brushing off his pants as he stands.

Taking in our surroundings for the first time I see he's right. The figure wearing my uniform has been knocked over, and the model of my bow and quiver are slightly ascue where they hang against the wall.

"What were you doing here?" I ask suspicious.

He rubs the back of his neck and smiles, dare I say, nervously. He digs into his pant pocket and pulls out a circle of intricately knotted rope. Handing it to me he says, "I had wanted to give you this and apologize myself. I figured if I tried coming up to your floor you'd slam the door in my face, maybe shoot me with an arrow for good measure. I said some pretty nasty things too and was working up the courage to try and talk to you one more time. To not go into the Arena knowing my last words to you, hurt you like they did."

He gently trails the tips of his fingers down the inside of my forearm. I suppress the delightful shivers that course through me as he takes my small wrist in his large hand. Carefully he slips on the rope, revealing it to be a bracelet. It's plain white but soft on my skin.

"It's a little loose." I tell him quietly, extremely aware of how close we are, and of the feel of his calloused yet gentle hand on my wrist.

Smiling he assured, "It's made of cotton rope so it'll shrink to fit. Old time sailors made these bracelets from ropes of their ships to show off their rope working knot is called a Turkish Head Knot."He tells me trailing a finger over the rope. "Also, they used them to wipe their brow while swabbing the deck at sea." I scrunch my nose playfully and he hastily adds, "But that is only the half of it. These bracelets were believed to bring the wearer good fortune. So, the sailors would handcraft a bracelet to bring back to their sweethearts while in port."

"A bit presumptuous don't you think Finn?" I remark, but it has no bite.

"I like when you call me that Kitten." He tells me, his voice taking on a lower register, his eyes becoming dark and intense. I take a nervous step back, which makes him chuckle. "Relax I mean that I like how you say it, the slight accent. And I don't think it's all that presumptuous. You have saved my life or tried to, then tried to seduce me in your underwear." I let out a scoffing laugh playfully shoving his arm off of where it still rested on mine. He reached out and grabbed my waist instead. "Then you knowingly wore my favorite color, got jealous when I flirted with someone else…"

I place my hands on his chest, leaning back to try and break his hold. Rolling my eyes I play along replying sarcastically, "And here I thought I was being subtle."

"As subtle as a hurricane." He smiles, moving one hand from my hips to play with the end of my braid I had done before going to bed. "Despite what I said, I have had time to look at one woman while here in the Capital. A beautiful, smart, spitfire of a woman. You." He reveals speaking softly, his eyes taking in every inch of my face. "If the only good decent thing I'm able to experience in this whole thing is meeting and spending time with you, it was worth it."

I begin to open my mouth but I have no idea what to say. I don't want this to be goodbye, I don't want to have to watch him be killed. But I feel guilt knowing his survival depends on Calluna and Koren's deaths.

Sensing my inner turmoil Finnick pulls me closer assuring, "You don't have to say anything. Just… if I'm the one to make it out, promise you'll think about us spending more time together." Not trusting my voice I simply nod.

Smiling brightly his mouth slowly descends to mine. I can feel his breath on my face and taste the sweetness of the sugar cube still lingering on his tongue. But just before our lips meet I pull back smirking, "Gives you something to look forward to Odair."

Exasperation fills his eyes momentarily before he lets out a boisterous laugh. "Who knew you were such a minx Kitten."

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