"Dahlia Blossom. Don't let the name fool you. She's better known as the Black Dahlia. And she didn't earn that nickname by smiling and looking pretty."
"She sure knows how to perform for the camera."
"Because she knows how to play the game. She alwa...
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One of the hardest things Finnick Odair had ever had to do was grieve the loss of a person who was still alive. Dahlia was in there somewhere, he knew it. But convincing her to realise it herself was a near impossible task. She had always been stubborn, but Finnick used to have ways to get through to her. Now he had to start from scratch and gain her trust once more. The first step was to get in the same room as her. Not as easy as one would think. The second he crossed the threshold into her cell, she nearly snapped her restraints in her haste to break free and wring his throat.
"Traitor!" She had screamed furiously as she thrashed in the metal chair, the word echoing through his head like a haunted melody. "Traitor!"
Traitor.
That's what she saw him as. Someone who had betrayed her, abandoned her, left her to die. These were the lies fed to her by the Capitol, the words that were being used to hurt him. He despised Snow for turning her against him, for using her as little more than a weapon and filling her mind with false identities. Because he would've speared himself upon his own trident before he would ever betray her. To betray her was a betrayal to his own heart.
After that disastrous first attempt, the doctors insisted Finnick remain in the observation room for the time being. No one could predict how the Black Dahlia would react and that made her dangerous. Instead they sent in a man she might remember from her past. A man the Capitol wouldn't have thought to turn her against.
"I suppose I'm being used as the test subject then." Haymitch muttered in an unimpressed tone as he prepared to enter the room with an infamous killer. "I get it. They don't really care if I live or die. As long as I die for the cause."
"Please, Haymitch." Finnick pleaded desperately with the older man, who'd been adamant that she wouldn't know who he was. "You're not doing it for the cause. You're doing it for her." He pointed into the white cell and both men turned to the girl in question. Her restraints had been tightened after her earlier outburst, meaning she could barely move her body or head at all. The darkness in her eyes did little to conceal the confusion over her lack of memories and the internal conflicts swirling in her mind. Despite her best efforts, she looked broken and lost. "She can't live like this. She deserves better."
"I know, kid." Haymitch sighed, patting Finnick sympathetically on the shoulder as he brushed past. "I know."
Standing at the entrance of her cell, he felt the nerves bubble inside him. There was a good chance he wouldn't leave that room alive. There was no way of predicting how she would respond to his presence but if she reacted badly, he prayed the guards would intervene in time. But as Haymitch wondered whether it was too late to back out, he remembered the promise he had once made to an old friend.
"Take care of my little girl."
It would kill Alaric to learn what had become of his beloved daughter. He'd died content in the knowledge that Dahlia wouldn't be alone, that she would be looked after and have people to fight for her. Haymitch had let her down and he had let Alaric down. He wouldn't let them down now. He was done running from the danger.
