Manaliac, RoseAllyWhitPotter17, and Guest: Thank you for the Reviews!

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The sound of beeping and whorls of machines was both a comfort and annoyance. The comfort came from knowing every beep was a confirmation of Finnick's heartbeat and every whorl was a intake of breath. The annoyance came from the continued silence that permeated the rest of the room.

Finnick lay in the hospital bed, tubes, monitors and sensors taped, glued and inserted all over. When he had been pulled from the Arena the Peacekeepers rushed him to the hospital, as was standard procedure. The doctors diagnosed him with acute exhaustion, and dehydration as well as the early stages of hypothermia and frostbite on the tips of his fingers from working his nets. Not to mention the countless bruises and injuries dealt out during the Games. Knowing his recovery depended mostly on rest and time the staff had sedated him. That was over a week ago.

From where I sit in the large, surprisingly comfortable chair next to the bed I stare at Finnick, memorizing every detail as I should have before he entered the Arena. I catalogued the number of golden freckles along his nose and cheeks, only truly visible if you looked closely. I memorized the slight upturn at the corners of his lips and how even unconscious, he appeared to be enjoying a small chuckle at something only known to him.

I reluctantly tear my eyes away and take a break from my staring to reread the letter in my hands.

After the end of the Games I requested an audience with President Snow. It was approved and the next day I stood before our leader, his office reeking of roses and blood. Knowing that soon Finnick would be sold much like I was I ask to be the first to have the "pleasure" of his companionship. Snow seemed surprised, knowing how much I hated the practice as well as my hatred of him for enforcing it. Not that he cared so long as I did what I was told. But then I shocked him even more by declaring I wished to have him exclusively to myself.

At first he was reluctant, knowing full well the amount of money gained from selling Finnick was astronomical. But I countered that I had grown attached and desired him for myself. I also argued that the Capital was growing tired of my spinsterhood and a new romance with such a handsome and favored Victor could generate not only a lot of money but good publicity regarding the Games themselves, which had been sorely lacking for years. Snow had assured me he would think upon the matter.

And now here in my hands laid his reply. Officially it said I was being fined for being spotted outside the District 12 fence, a crime punishable by death, but due to my status as a Victor coupled with all the "good works" I was committed to throughout Panem I was granted a onetime leniency. The price of the fine was 14 million. It then went on to thank me for the 5 million I had pledged to various Capital charities, to be paid annually. The letter concluded with a plea to be more mindful of the laws, for no one was above them not even someone of such distinction as myself. At the bottom it was marked with a post script thanking me for my support shown to President Snow shown during the last election over his competition.

Of course to the trained eye the message was much more chilling. I was to pay the money up front for Finnick's freedom. Then I was to pay more every year of our "relationship". And if I were to step out of line I would likely be caught up in some scandalous affair with someone Snow desired to ruin publicly as well./pThe monetary cost was of little concern to me. Due to my Victor's money plus "gifts" from "suitors" as well as my mother's continued smart and gifted handling of my funds, I had amassed a large fortune. No, what made my insides churn with sickening dread was explaining Finnick to my family. My mother, due to the amount of gems, bill stacks and expensive items I passed into her hands to sell or invest likely had an idea of how I really spent my time in the Capital. But Prim, oh God if Prim ever found out I'd die inside from the disappointment and disgust I'd likely see in her eyes. Then again, who was to know if Finnick would even go along with this whole plan. Maybe his supposed feelings for me had changed. He might wake up hating me, thinking I'm no better than a Mutt for living under Snow's thumb all these years. Everyone comes out of the Arena different from who they had been, but no one came out the same as the others.

Haymitch drank to blur the vision of holding his fellow Tribute as she died. Johanna came out bitter and jagged, while Gloss emerged bold and outgoing but it masked the hatred of himself for what he had done to win. Me, Icame out completely and utterly shattered. It was only through kindness and compassion shown by others, even as I tried to push them away, that I was slowly and painfully put back together. Even to this day it feels like some pieces are missing, too small to be replaced and therefore never truly whole.

The next day the doctors decided it was time to bring Finnick out of sedation, the Capital needed to meet their Victor after all. I sat next to his bedside watching as his eyes began to flutter. I squeezed Mags' hands and released the breath I didn't know I was holding. Mags touched my arm and motioned me forward.

Releasing her hand I gingerly sat down on the bed and touched his arm. "Finnick?" I whispered loudly.

"Kitten?" He asked, his eyes slowly focusing on me. "You've finally got me in bed. Not how I imagined it but so long as your here, I guess beggars can't be choosers."

I let out a laugh that catches in my throat, unable to believe he can joke after everything that's happened. Because of this it comes out sounding like a rather loud scoff bordering on a indigent snort.

Hearing this his smirk falls and he questions, "What's wrong? I've still got all my fingers and toes right? Fuck I didn't mess up my face too bad did I?"

This time I do genuinely laugh, the sound causing him to grin. Remembering Mags was in the room I swat his arm for cursing and immediately regret the action. But he's still fuzzy from the sedatives and doesn't seem to register the contact as he beams at Mags who sits down on the other side of the bed. She reaches out and brushes the hair off his forehead. Feeling like an intruder I silently slip out the door.

The next day is the Victor's interview with Caesar. Finnick's team dresses him in a dark blue button down shirt and tight black pants. The shirt is once more unbuttoned nearly to his stomach and the pants extenuate every inch of muscle definition in his legs. Seeing this I'm reminded of a turkey being trussed up and displayed for sale.

Though we haven't spoken since he woke up I received a message from Finnick asking me to be there for his interview. Seeing it as a sign he may go along with my plans I agree, deciding to explain my offer after.

As the questions begin Caesar asks how Finnick has been doing since existing from the Arena.

"Well to be honest Caesar," He chuckles, "I've spent most of the time unconscious. The doctors just woke me up yesterday. You wouldn't be able to tell under all this make-up but I got pretty banged up."

He then explains all the injuries and health concerns the doctors diagnosed. Then he adds, "I still can't feel much in my fingertips. They said it could take time to get it back."

After some more questions about his health Caesar brings up the Game highlights. While disturbing to watch things run smoothly until they play Annie's death. Finnick is visibly breathing heavily, his hands restlessly clinching and unclenching in his lap.

Caesar questions if Finnick feels responsible for her death and if he feels like he failed to protect her.

"Of course I feel responsible. I will miss Annie every day for the rest of my life. But in a way I feel like she ended up protecting me instead. She knew I was ready to kill for her, die for her. That I wasn't going to make it out. So she sacrificed herself for me. She gave her life, and in doing so gave me back mine." He explained tears slipping from his eyes.

Caesar seemed satisfied by the emotional display so he moved on. "Now Finnick, before the Games you expressed an interest in the women of the Capital. I'm sure many have sent you get well cards and such. Is there anyone who's caught your eye yet?"

Wiping the wetness from his face quickly yet suavely Finnick dons his trademark smirk. "As a matter of fact Caesar, I feel I need to come clean about those remarks. They were untrue, at least partly. You see there's only one woman I've had my eyes on, and while she's been in the Capital, she wasn't born here. She's from the Districts. I only said those things to get her to notice me, to maybe make her jealous."

Caesar chuckled a bit at his youthful antics before leaning in, as if they were two close friends discussing which girls they had crushes on. "Did it work?"

Leaning in as well Finnick grins wider as he pretends to whisper, "I think it did. She was at my bedside when I woke up."

I'm so shocked at his reveal that I don't register Caesar asking who it was at Finnick's bedside.

His reply of "Katniss Evergreen" obviously shocks his host into stunned silence so it's up to Finnick call for me, the crew ushering me from my spot in a far corner backstage to a chair brought forth and placed next to him. I sit down in a daze not noticing Finnick has grasp my hand in his until he places a firm but gentle kiss on my knuckles.

Caesar recovers from his muteness and manages to smile broadly as he welcomes, "Katniss! It's so good to see you."

"You as well Caesar." I manage, my smile bright to hide my nervousness.

"This is truly unexpected. But wonderful news! The Golden Boy and the Capital Darling." He beams. "But Katniss, when last we spoke about there being someone in your life, you denied having any attachment."

Hoping to appease him I reply, "At the time there wasn't. Honestly Finnick just kinda snuck up on me."

I see Caesar is both interested and confused, but before he can ask another question Finnick cuts in, "It wasn't so much sneaking on my part as much as full on chase." He chuckled. "I'd seen Katniss every year on T.V. since she won, and I just really wanted to meet her. I mean she's smart not to mention beautiful, and deadly as hell. I gotta admit I was a little intimidated."

"We actually met after Koren and Calluna decided to form an alliance with Annie and I. Katniss wanted to make sure it was genuine and not some ploy of the Careers to back stab the other Districts. We got to talking and I discovered she's even more amazing than I ever thought so I decided to pursue her, suavely of course." He grinned roguishly. "But my hints weren't working so I went for drastic measures."

"Oh they were working." I rolled my eyes playing along. "But I wasn't interested in a young, arrogant would-be Victor. It wasn't until later that I saw the kind compassionate man underneath."

"Weren't you afraid of loosing him in the Arena?" Caesar questioned, his eyebrow raised.

Swallowing thickly I pray this is the last time I have to use Peeta like this. "I was terrified. Every injury, every danger tore at my heart. But the thing that terrified me most was Finnick dying not knowing how much I cared. Peeta knew I loved him, but if I never got to tell Finnick that I would have been haunted by the rest of my life. So when Finnick won I spent every day by his side till he woke up." I squeezed his hand smiling and could see him look to me quickly in surprise, silently asking if it was true. But it was quickly replaced by one of resigned joy.

Continuing I allow a single tear to fall saying, "I know Peeta would want me to be happy. He wouldn't want me spending the rest of my life wishing things were different."

The interview doesn't last much longer after that. Caesar asks if I'll be joining Finnick on his Victory Tour to which he replies that while we hadn't truly discussed it, he'd like me to show him around 12 and in turn show me around 4, so long as it didn't interfere with my own duties of course.

After we're released from the prep teams Finnick and I make our way back to District 4's floor of the Training Center. I've only ever been on this floor once, back during my first year Mentoring. My Tributes for that year had both been killed in the Bloodbath and Haymitch had been no comfort for my guilt. Mags had found me in the Training Gym, shaking and numb as I shot arrows into a target, each one an embarrassing miss. She had brought me to this floor and held me as I broke, screaming and crying.

The rooms are eerily quiet along with much of the rest of the building. The walls of this floor are a medium bluish grey, like the sky as a storm rolls in. The furniture is also more laid back than the sleek elegance of 12's floor. We sit down on the large sofa and I realize that Finnick and I have been holding hands the entire time. He seems to have no plans on releasing me though because he places our joined hands on his knee and starts rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand.

"Is is it true?" He asks softly, looking into my eyes, "Did you sit with me every day?"

A little embarrassed I simply nod. He smiles, a real one. One that reached his eyes and makes the corners crinkle attractively. "Just couldn't stay away could you Kitten?"

I huff and try to pull my hand away but he tightens his grip and places his other hand on top. "Haymitch told me about your plan. Or rather, ask I discourage you from your plan. Katniss, you took a huge risk for me. I'm grateful, I am, but I won't put you and your family in danger."

"My family has been in danger since I volunteered." I assure him. "I can take care of them."

"But who takes care of you?" He asks softly, his eyes boring into mine with concern.

I'm about to snap I can take care of myself but I never get a chance to because Finnick is pressing his lips to mine. His lips are still rough and chapped from the Arena but it somehow makes this more intimate, more real. I kiss him back after my surprise wears off, my free hand tangling in his hair pulling him closer. He groans against my lips, pressing them more firmly together as the kiss deepens, his tongue soon seeking entrance. I oblige and shift so that I'm now kneeling above his lap. Our hands release and I grasp onto his hair harder, tugging slightly. This seems to egg him on for the next instant, he's clutching at my hips firmly, but not enough to bruise.

I grab a handful of his shirt for balance, but must have brushed against one of his many injuries for his mouth suddenly tears away from mine, his body tensing as he let out a low painful moan.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry." I apologize freezing, not wanting to hurt him further with sudden movements.

After talking a deep breath he tries to sooth, "It's ok. We both got a little carried away. But I gotta say Kitten," He pauses, his grin becoming wolfish, "the wait was definitely worth it."

I know! I know it's short but I promise the next will be longer and include the Victory tour and the Reaping for the Quelle
Reviews always welcome along with suggestions for names of Victor Tributes