You Asked For This - Finnick Odair

A Good Dream

"... longing for what might have been and wasn't."
— Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star

...

What happened after the lights went out was a blur. There were random bright lights and lots of people bumping into each other, trying to make their ways back to the Training Center. Peacekeepers were everywhere. The only thing Cora could focus on was the feeling of Finnick's hand, which had never once let go, leading her through the madness.

They ended up in an elevator with Johanna Mason.

"Well, that was interesting," Cora managed to say after a moment of silence.

Finnick chuckled, "That's one word for it."

"Bet we won't all be holding hands tomorrow," Johanna smirked.

The three continued to have light conversation until they reached District 4's floor. "Don't miss us too much, Jo," Cora said as she and Finnick stepped out of the elevator.

"I'll be too busy enjoying my last night of peace and quiet," the woman responded as the doors closed.

The two walked inside to see Mags waiting for them.

Get some sleep, she signed. You'll need it.

Any last words of advice? Finnick asked the woman that had raised him for the past ten years.

Don't lose yourselves in there.

Thanks, Mags. We won't, Cora assured the woman.

The strawberry blonde and the bronze-haired man each gave Mags a hug and went off to their room. They were silent as they grabbed their pajamas and went off to separate showers to wash off all the make-up and hair products.

After her shower, Cora wrapped a towel around her body and looked at herself in the mildly foggy mirror. Her strawberry blonde hair cascaded down in long, wet tresses. Her wide, grey green eyes had deep purple bags underneath them, not from lack of sleep but from how stressed she'd been since the Quell was announced.

All she could think of was how she had done this nine years ago, before her first games, when she was fourteen years old. She looked older now. But not as old as she should. She felt like it'd been a lifetime since she was that version of herself. She should look older, not like the young woman she saw as her reflection.

She should have wrinkles and stray strands of grey hair. Her appearance should show how she felt, should show everything she'd been through. But all she saw was a beautiful young woman staring back at her. It was her face, it just didn't feel real. Aside from the eye bags, those suited her. Made her look human and imperfect.

She wondered if Finnick felt the same when he looked in the mirror. If his reflection didn't seem real to him either. Maybe it didn't bother him the way it bothered her.

She yawned, suddenly realizing how tired the day had made her and finished getting ready for bed.

When she finally climbed into bed, Finnick was already there, lying down but awake.

"Your hair is wet," Cora mumbled as she cuddled in closer to him.

"I didn't feel like drying it," he mumbled back, resting his face in her hair.

"I dried my hair," the woman said sleepily into his chest.

"Would you like an award?" he yawned.

"Yes."

"Goodnight, Cor."

"Goodnight, Finn."

And, with that, they drifted off into sleep. They didn't need to worry about nightmares. They had each other to keep them away.