I'm sitting on the toilet off the hallway of the Capitol's shopping centre. It's surprisingly quiet here, the hustle and bustle of the people crowding the space almost disappearing behind this stall door.

Or maybe it's quiet because I can't focus on anything other than the little white stick that's clutched in my fingers currently displaying a little plus symbol.

It's a good thing that I'm already in the bathroom when I expel my latest rye and coke meal into the shining porcelain. It burns worse coming up than it did going down.

I wish I could throw up the plus symbol too. I might be from 7, but at least I know that that is not possible.

Pulling myself together, I settle my things back into my backpack slipping it onto my boney shoulder and depositing my trash in the disposal unit provided. I push my way back into the crowded walkway of the centre and make my way back out onto the streets of the Capitol.

Watching 74 is worse than pulling teeth. We turn it into a bender that is only dulled by the increasingly sober Haymitch. His Tributes are still alive. Fuck him.

It doesn't matter much to me what's growing in my belly. It'll be taken care of soon enough. My appointment is booked for the end of the week (unless the Games aren't over yet) and I've even arranged for my ride home.

It all makes sense to keep it at arm's length – to avoid the entanglements of figuring out exactly who helped in the whole process and whether it was free or paid. In the end, it won't matter anyways because it's my choice. My body.

It's better this way anyways.

Goddamn them for selling me.

Finnick and I whittle away the hours in our cage, watching the Games with only half an eye cocked. When we curl into the soft sheets at the end of the night he doesn't ask me how I am and I don't prod him for anything more. Instead we close our eyes; our hands clasped together, and fall into the abyss of sleep.

He'll be my ride home. He doesn't ask if it's his. He knows he doesn't have a say.

When it's over and they're sending me on my way, I bite and snark my way out of the office. Finnick takes me by the arm, flashing his pearly whites to all of the nurses in an attempt to have them forget I was even here.

It doesn't matter if it makes the papers. They'd all expect it from me anyways.

'Johanna Mason – Taking Care of Business'

That's how they see me – a crazy girl who is too hostile for her own good. I try not to equate this with that – I was just doing what I needed to. Fuck them all. They say nice guys finish last – well thank God I'm a douchebag.

In the car it finally starts to feel like the drugs have taken control. I feel my head roll to the side as Finnick turns a corner.

"You going to be alright there Jo?" He asks, his hand pushing my shoulder up so that my body is cushioned once again in the middle of the seat. I nod, my head heavy. "Do you need anything else before we get you home?"

"A bottle of liquor would be nice, but I think they've told me to give it a day." I reply. My mouth sticks on some of the words but I can't help it. I know he understands – he always does.

Later, when I'm curled into my own sheets in the cold apartment that they've assigned me, Finnick sits on the edge of my bed and brushes his hand along my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" His words brush over me like velvet.

"It's not as big of a deal as you think it is. Not for me, anyways." I state. And it's true. This wasn't something I could control – it had happened against all probability. It only made sense to take care of it, just like you would with any other medical ailment. Still though – there is an ache that I can't explain.

I feel his body lay down beside me and I finally open my eyes to meet his.

"I know that. I just wanted to make sure."

We fall asleep and we wake up like that.

There are the odd times where Finnick and I find each other in the dark mess of drugs and alcohol, or in between the appointments that brand us, but this is not one of them. In these moments he's more like another brother, one I wish I could carry around with me. In these moments he's one of the only things I have left.

"Because of the baby."

My eyes snap to Finnick at the words, my heart thudding heavily in my chest. He doesn't look at me, instead his eyes trained on the boy before us who's giving away a very big and very dangerous secret, especially considering what lay before us.

I wish he'd look at me. I need him to. Just once, please.

My fingers grip the arms of the chair tighter and I feel like I could break them off. When finally we stand and join hands, each Victor joining together in a show against the Capitol, I have to wipe the sweat off of my palms before I grasp anyone else.

At the end I make my way back up to my room in silence. I shift away when Blight tries to rest his palm on my shoulder, unable to deal with anyone touching me right now. He doesn't take it personally, instead wandering off to his own room without another word.

I take dinner in my room and pull myself together.

Katniss Everdeen and I are nothing alike. We're not similar and there is no way that this should be getting under my skin.

I take a deep breath and stand, determined to seek out Haymitch or Finnick or someone who will give me a drink and get my mind off of this.

I happen upon Haymitch first, already holding company with Beetee and a bottle. I know instantly that I won't be getting a free pass on the Katniss-free train tonight. It's all they can talk about. It makes my gut turn over with every mention.

I'm glad I'm not her. I can't even imagine.

"Well, at least one of us doomed Victor's had some happiness before they came back here." I mutter when the room is almost silent. I feel Haymitch's glare on me but I don't falter. It's true. Peeta got what he wanted – he got Katniss. None of us got what we wanted. I sure didn't.

"You think that's fair, Jo?" I can hear the subtle rage building behind his words. I don't take the bait, instead shrugging and drinking back my shot.

It isn't long before Finnick joins us. I can feel the anger emanating from him and it bothers me deeply. This whole scenario has thrown a wrench in our plan.

He still doesn't look at me though I implore him to with my gaze.

I let Haymitch and Finnick exchange angry words before I watch Beetee leave. I don't want to be alone with these two and I can already tell they don't want me here either. This is between them – the masterminds of this whole plan. I get to my feet, pulling my clothing loose from my body and turning to them.

"This is all going to blow up in our faces boys, just be careful with your next set of instructions."

I don't go back to my room, instead slipping onto District 4's floor and into Finnick's room.

I will make him talk to me. Even if I myself don't understand why I need to talk to him so badly.

I'm woken up by Finnick crawling on to the bed beside me. He doesn't ask me why I'm here. He doesn't say a word, instead choosing to pull me close and breathing into my neck. I can still feel the rage burning in his system, keeping him awake and ready to fight.

I don't know if I can say the next words and not mean them. If I can continue on not saying them.

I tuck my head against his chest and stuff my arms between us, wrapping them around my chest. When I whisper the words, they're muffled against his skin. I feel him pull away and rest his hands upon my forearms that protect me like armour.

"What was that?" He asks. I don't look at him when I say it. I can't.

"I asked why she gets everything and I can't have anything." I tense, waiting for a rejection that never comes.

"She hasn't been around long enough. Besides, I didn't think you wanted what she has." He questions. It's in his words that I find the careful hesitation that he's always been so good at hiding. It's how he handles business – it's his mask. I hate when he puts on his mask to deal with me. I push up until I'm seated on the edge of the bed as far as I can get from him.

"I didn't want it like that." I hiss, trying to convey the difference. I hadn't wanted a stranger growing in me. I didn't even want a child. "It's just that it's not fair Finn, that's the problem."

I feel the bed shift below me, feel his arm snake around my waist.

"The Capitol isn't fair, Jo. Don't be stupid. You can't hate her for this – she probably didn't want it either but now she's stuck. She doesn't have your options."

I want to shout that I didn't have options. That I had to take care of it. I don't.

"Fine. You win." I concede, not even bothering to get into fight mode. We need to rest.

I don't turn back when he shouts my name, calling me back from the doorway that I walk through.

I can't stay here tonight with him. Tomorrow we'll be in the Arena. Tomorrow I'll have to kill again. I don't need a sleep buddy next to me when I mentally prep for that.

"What the fuck is wrong with her?" I shout. I watch as Finnick and Peeta carry her along the beaches end, her hair still slightly matted with blood. Was she too stupid to stay away from that time zone?

Foolish girl.

"Back off Jo," I watch Finnick coming towards me then, his eyes hot with anger that I think is directed towards me. What did I do? I take a step back as he approaches, watching Beetee out of the side of my eye. He'd warned me to think first. I hadn't.

Finnick is on me then, his fingers bruising my arms with their grip. I can't help but notice that his face is pale. That Katniss doesn't look to hot herself. That Peeta is with her but he's starting to freak out. There's something wrong.

My skin prickles when I hear Katniss cry out. My blood feels like ice in my veins.

I look into Finnick's eyes then, startled by their intensity.

Oh no.

"What's happening?" I'm shouting now, panic rising and tearing at my insides. He doesn't answer, unwilling to speak the words. "No, no no. This isn't supposed to happen! Stop letting it happen!"

I fight to break free of Finnick's arms, to go to them and help, but it's useless. He won't let me go and my strength is almost non-existent.

I hear Beetee telling us to calm down. I hear Katniss' cries. I hear Peeta sob once. There's a ringing in my ears when I see the now vacant pool of blood.

I try to rein it in. Pull myself together. Ground my emotions.

I can't do anything. I can't save it. I can't fix it. All we can do is get out alive.

I keep repeating that in my head, reminding myself with every breath.