Author: Lauren.

Rating: Rated M.

Character/Pairing: Finnick Odair, female Victor, probably other tributes, ultimately Katniss et al.

Summary: We do what we need to be free. Finnick/FemVictor

Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish it was.

Author's Note: So I rewatched THG recently and it brought back my feelings of affection for Finnick. Just love him. Hope you enjoy, reviews are always most appreciated. #justiceforfinnick

Another night, another party.

Not that any of this was unusual but the fervour with which the inhabitants of District One liked to celebrate reached fever pitch in the run up to the Reaping.

The night was cold and she felt the breeze brush along her shoulder blades as she tightened her fur stole reflexively.

Inside the hedonism continued. She could almost hear the screams and shouts through the doors to the balcony, although she'd shut them tightly in an attempt to escape.

This time of year almost made her miss home. At least then she should could have disappeared into the gardens on her own. Her Mother, a cruel woman, had made it evident that she valued her flowers far higher than she ever did her children. The only positive of this had been that she had inadvertently created the perfect hiding spot for her offspring.

He crept up on her so quietly she almost didn't notice, until the wind suddenly stopped as his body formed a shield.

She glanced over. She recognised his face as one of the other Victors, handsome profile lit by the flickering candles dotted along the balcony.

'I don't want to talk.'

'Good, I don't want to either.'

She'd seen him earlier in the evening, permanently surrounded by adoring fans. He seemed to have mastered the art of always leaving them wanting more, leaning in with a flirtatious glint and a smile that seemed just made for them. She knew better.

His torso, toned and bronzed, was barely covered by his waistcoat, a choice that was no doubt deliberate. Despite her earlier statement, she couldn't help herself.

'Aren't you cold?'

His eyes swept over, measuring her. 'Aren't you?' In truth she wasn't anymore suitably dressed, one of her sponsors had insisted on purchasing her a piece of silk that could generously have been referred to as a dress.

'Always.'

He nodded curtly 'Perhaps you should have worn a jumper.'

She laughed despite herself. Nothing was ever really funny anymore so it felt foreign. In her peripheral she could see a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

'I'm Finnick.'

She raised her eyebrows 'Really, I had no idea.' She was obviously joking, everyone knew the youngest tribute to win the Games. Especially when his face looked like that.

'And you are?'

'Diana.'

'Ah the Princess of District Two,' his tone was light, mocking 'What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?'

Honestly, she spent most of her time trying not to think about how she'd ended up in this position. She could have talked about how she'd been born into a broken, cruel system. She could have sworn at him and told him to go fuck himself. She could have batted her lashes and replied coquettishly.

'I think you know well enough yourself Four,' she replied, referencing his home District 'Or are your Games far enough back that you've forgotten?'

His jaw clenched and she watched all the playfulness of earlier dissipate 'As well you know, we can never forget, Diana.'

He returned back inside as quickly as he had arrived and the wind began beating relentlessly against her again, defensive wall no more.

Strangely, she missed it.

Reaping Day dawned early with the usual preparations. Her glam team arrived promptly as always, full of the joys of getting to dress her for the 'most glamorous event of the season.' In some twisted way they seemed to truly enjoy draping and coiffing her and she tried to act as if she didn't hate them for it.

She had been invited to attend one of her sponsors homes to watch, he always threw large enough parties that she could disappear into the crowd, which suited her.

The heat in the room was becoming increasingly unbearable as she downed her third glass of wine. Around her the wealthiest people in the Capitol were already striking bets, making wagers and generally picking apart each of the Tributes that had been announced thus far.

She could feel the warmth, the panic beginning to spread down her neck and across her back like a rash. Everywhere around her was noisy but all she could hear was the music of the arena, the screams, the crying. Her hands trembled as she picked another glass from a passing waiter. She couldn't do this, she couldn't do this.

Her eyes scanned the room, looking for an escape route. As soon as she started for one, she felt sharp fingers grip her wrist, one of the party attendees breath on her ear 'Stay and watch my pretty.'

So she stayed, frozen to the spot as she watched children being dragged from their families, screaming and wailing and terrified. She felt something hot and acidic rising in throat so she clenched her fingers until her palms burned.

'Take a breath,' this time the voice didn't make her recoil. It was Finnick and he smelt faintly salty 'It will be over soon. You just need to focus.'

When it was all over the sun had begun to set and the party was as rowdy as ever so she managed to slip out the back, down through the gardens, finding a quiet spot by the orchard.

Watching a Reaping hadn't felt this way in a long time. Diana thought she had deadened herself to all of it. But when she had seen the girl from Twelve volunteer in place of her sister it had taken her straight back to her own time in the Games.

Sliding her feet out of her uncomfortable heels, she enjoyed the feel of her toes against the cool blades of grass.

'Penny for your thoughts?' His shadow loomed over her 'Can I sit?'

She inclined her head and he immediately dropped down beside her. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

'Are you okay?' She understands he's just trying to be kind but it feels like a silly question.

'No. Are you?'

'No.'

The quiet settles again as they both watch the orange brilliance of the sun dip below the horizon.

'I had this dog when I was growing up. His name was Kelp because he always- well it doesn't matter,' he shook his head 'Anyway when I got out of the Games I couldn't wait to get back to him. We used to swim every morning together before I left. When I got home Peacekeepers had strung him up by a tree. After that I moved to the Capitol and I never went home again.'

His face scrunched up before straightening itself again, the perfect mask.

'My Mother once took off the tip of my little finger off with a pair of shears because I deliberately set fire to one of her topiary swans.'

She watches him process this information before suddenly his mouth curls up and laughter comes pouring out. She hasn't heard that sound, pure unadulterated amusement for so long that it almost makes her ears hurt. But she can't help it, before long she's gone too, water dripping from her eyes and weaving its way down her face, ruining the make up that had been painstakingly applied. She might have felt bad about it if this didn't feel so good.

'Hey,' he finally stops, wiping his eyes 'I got you something.'

And once again, he's managing to surprise her 'Finnick Odair has a gift for me?'

'Here,' he produces a slightly crumbled cake from his pocket, dusted with pink icing 'I didn't see you eat much.'

Her ribs feel as if they're contracting in on her 'Thanks,' she chokes out, trying to hide how much his small gesture has touched her.

'I think it's strawberry,' he mutters under his breath and she hides a smile behind taking a mouthful.

'It's good.'

'I'm glad. It was the last one they had.'

The silence settles in again but now she's dreading the moment they both have to get up and go home.

'Are you-'

'I should head home soon,' she cuts him off, dusting herself down. He stood up, offering her a hand.

'Can I walk you?'