Spark to Flame: A Finniss Story

Pt III: Quake to Aftershock

Adrenaline spikes her veins, eyes shooting open as she scrambles into a sitting position on her bed, breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as her bloodshot eyes frantically scan the room, terrified.

She begins to realize that she's in her room and not in any imminent danger when Finnick comes bursting through the door, out of breath and eyes wide with alarm.

"Katniss? Are you okay?" He asks, running his eyes over her for signs of injury or distress.

Her embarrassment at having been heard clear across the hall is immense, and she scrambles for an excuse to get him out of there as fast as possible. "Uh...y- yeah. Yeah, i- it was just a nightmare."

He relaxes, understanding dawning on his face. "Oh. Well...don't worry about it. I get 'em all the time, too. It's nothing to be ashamed about."

He stands in the doorway, staring at her as though he expects her to say more, and when she doesn't, he turns on his heel to leave.

"Wait," she says suddenly, retracting her arm just in time so he doesn't see her reaching out to him. "C- could you...w- would you mind..." She doesn't know why, but she can't get the words out. He seems genuinely curious of her request, but she doesn't dare take it as encouragement as she decides to abandon her silly idea. "...Never mind. It's stupid."

"No," he says firmly, stepping back inside and coming closer. "No, it's not. Whatever it is, it's not. Now what is it?"

The gentleness in his tone makes her face soften and her muscles lax, and though she'd been so sure just moments before that she wouldn't tell him, she decides to take a chance and do just that.

"Can...can you...stay with me?"

He pinches his eyebrows and blinks at her, as though he doesn't fully understand her request or hasn't heard her right, and she immediately begins to blush in shame, resisting the urge to pull the covers over her head and hide like a five-year-old. She opens her mouth and prepares to give him an out, not daring to look him in the eye, when-

"Sure."

She looks up at him, shocked, and upon seeing the expression on her face, Finnick repeats himself to save her the trouble of wondering whether or not her mind is playing tricks on her.

"Sure," he says again, nodding. "Yeah, of course."

She proceeds to stare into space, absolutely stunned that he's even agreed to her petty, selfish request, and before she knows it he's sliding into bed next to her. He slips beneath the covers and lays down, and she numbly follows suit, lowering herself down and resting her head on the pillow they now both share.

They stare at each other, each lying on their sides as they try to get over the sudden awkwardness that fills the room. It's Finnick that makes the first move to do so; he reaches over and brushes a stray curl behind her ear, and suddenly he's pulling her closer and she's letting him, because in all honesty the nightmares have been far too life-like lately and she needs this, needs to be comforted and needs to feel safe, even if said safety is nothing more than a falsity.

She buries her face in the crook of his shoulder and wraps her arms around him, and he in turn does the same to her.

The feeling of there being danger at every turn slowly dissipates, and she's left with the slow and steady assurance that she's safe and there's nothing to worry about, that everything is all butterflies and rainbows and glasses that are half-full, and she relishes the almost foreign feeling of being at peace.

"Katniss?"

If only dreams were so kind.

Katniss slowly awakens from her slumber, eyes gradually focusing on the image of her sister, Prim, who at some point in the night decided to leave the comfort of the bed she and their mother shared to go and wake her up.