Querencia | Finnick Odair

Fourteen

How the people of Thirteen navigate through their system of floors and elevators I will never understand, because the nine turns we take to the command centre seem like nine differents other ones than before.
In the room stands Katniss, Coin, Plutarch and Haymitch.
Gloss smirks at Katniss.
“Nice seeing you again Firegirl.”
“Gloss.”
“What do you want?”, I interrupt their staring contest when I turn to Coin.
“You are going to District Two. The people love your early return after your stay in the Capitol.”
I scoff. “My stay?”
“They call you the Phoenix. Risen from the ashes”, she explains.
“So?”
“We need you on TV.”
“Fine. I get to choose my weapons. I want the same people with me as in 9. Finnick is coming with me.”
“Your fiance won’t be joining us, he is needed here for other propos. The other two I will grant you”, the president says, challenging me to say something against it.
“Very well. Finnick can help with the wedding preparations that with no doubt have started?”, I question.

Plutarch nods enthusiastically, blabbing about colour schemes and guest lists.
“No red. No white. Traditions from both districts”, I say.

“Why exactly are we going to Two?”
“Because the Mockingjay doesn’t want to be here any longer”, Coin smiles.
A smile I know so very well. From a person with eyes as cold as hers.
I look over at Katniss, the wheels in my head turning.

Of course, it is claustrophobic down here, of course, the rules, which I believe neither of us follow, are tight and the people are not warm and welcoming. But she’s been here for what? A few weeks maybe. The only thing new...is Peeta.

My eyes narrow and I yank Katniss out of the room by her arm, pulling her down a few hallways.

“Have you lost your mind?! Giving up on him like that? Letting Snow win like that? Confirming what Snow thinks about you?! Peeta deserves better!”, I growl.

“You saw him. Peeta...he is kind and generous and…”

“So what?! I am kind and generous and when I was in the arena I killed more people than anybody ever did before. You killed Marvel without blinking, yet you are not a monster. Just because he is like that now, because he behaves like this, doesn’t mean he truly is that way. He knows that something is wrong, he knows something happened in his mind, he just doesn’t know what, can’t make sense of it. And you should be the one helping him do so!”

“I...I can’t…”, she mumbles.

“Then you are a coward”, I state, turn on my heel and stalk back down the corridor, where Gloss still waits for me.

“The firegirl got one of your lectures?”
“Hmmhm. Is Johanna getting better? She was still passed out earlier.”
He shakes his head.
“She has a lot of internal damage. There is something they are struggling with that they won’t tell me. But she’ll be okay, as far as any of us ever will be.”

“Thank you, Gloss. For everything. I never said it, you know, that night when you found me in the elevator. If I had been alone, I don’t know. I never thanked you for that, so...thanks.”

He smiles down at me, squeezing my hand softly and we walk the rest of the way in silence.

“Thank you for making sure Katniss didn’t kill me in the arena”, he says when we stand in front of my room, pressing a kiss on top of my hair, smiles and leaves, the icy blue eyes seeming warm with the small wrinkles at their corners.

Finnick sits inside and I remember that he has been here for weeks as well. I also remember that I haven’t asked him about how he was doing after everything in the arena happened, how he dealt with everything. He is making knots.

“I am going to District Two. You aren’t coming. But I am coming back, I promise.”
He nods, staring at something at the wall.
“What is it, darling? Do you want to talk? Or rather just be, for now?”
He shakes his head.
“It is something Theresa said. She reminded me so much of Annie at that moment”, he mumbles, hand still fidgeting. I squat down in front of him, looking up into his eyes, arms resting on his knees.

“I am so sorry, my love. I am sorry that I haven’t asked you how you are doing. How you have been. I should have, but I didn’t, while you held my hand even though I cut off your circulation.”

He sets the rope aside and pulls me up, onto his lap and nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck.

“I almost lost my mind. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. I didn’t know what they were doing to you. And every time you were on TV; I was so proud that you fought back but so scared that they would punish you for it. Sometimes I wished that you were dead, that you wouldn’t have to endure it. And then I wished I would be dead myself because I couldn’t stand the thought of being without you. And I couldn’t sleep. I could never sleep because all I could see was you broken or dead and alone on the ground. And then, when I heard a voice that sounded just a bit like yours and it wasn’t you after all...I just...flipped.”

I feel my eyes getting teary and I take a deep breath.
“I killed Penelope”, I mumble and Finnick looks up at me. Not with shock or disappointment. Just with interest and patience. He takes my hand.

“They...they realised that hurting me didn’t use anything. That putting me in a tank and sucking out all the oxygen was something that was ineffective. So they used Penelope. Put poisons into her and antidotes. One after the other. And it got bad...it got so, so bad. She asked me to kill her. She asked me, begged me almost. So when I could, after rubbing my wrist raw in the cuffs, I just...I took a scalpel and ended it because she was dying. She would have been killed. Would have died in a miserable way and in pain. So I had to do it”, I say, tears running down my cheeks.

Finnick raises my wrists, slowly caresses the scar tissue that formed there. It is not as prominent as other scars, but it’s there, pale and aching. He presses kisses to each wrist.

“I have something for you”, he says and takes out something from his drawer.

“My sketchbook”, I breathe out and take the crumpled paper. Looking through the drawings of people and landscapes, trees and the sky.

“I crumbled it a bit. But...you should have it back.”

I put it on the table and lean my head onto his shoulder.

“Do we really know what we are doing here?”, I mumble.

“Probably not. But I have you, and that is all that matters”, Finnick says, turns his head and presses his lips to mine.

I respond to the kiss, raising myself in his lap, straddling him as we kiss, as he slowly opens one button after the other at the front of my jumpsuit. He carefully traces each scar on my back as he kisses my neck, my collarbone, up my throat, nibbling at my ear. I return the favour, kissing scars on his upper arm, left there by claws of a monkey, kiss his throat, up to his jaw, my hands exploring his body anew, finding every new scar and every new scratch. His explore the valley of my breasts and my hips.
We stop after a while panting, gasping for air, still sitting on the chair, foreheads resting against each other.

“I love you, so much”, he says, hands drawing circles on my hip.
“And I love you. Come on, do you want to go to the weaponry? Or stay here and enjoy the time we have?”
He thinks shortly. “Weaponry. And then, after dinner, we can do whatever we want”, he smiles, wiggling his eyebrows, at which I laugh.
“Come on, let’s show them what we can do.”