𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑫𝑨𝑯𝑳𝑰𝑨, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝑴𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

It had been days since Dahlia had last slept in a bed. She didn't even know how long, time was an abstract concept when you were locked underground in a prison cell. But even her thin Capitol mattress couldn't compare to the heavenly cloud she was lying on in her new shared room. Her pod was compact but comfortable, directly parallel to Finnick's. If she turned on her side, she could look across the gap between the two pods and watch his chest rise and fall evenly. He slept so peacefully each night, slipping off into blissful slumber as easily as breathing. On the other hand, Dahlia's body screamed for rest, but her mind would not shut off. Too lost in her own thoughts.

She was remembering the many faces of rebels she had been commanded to kill, wondering if they truly were guilty of the crimes she had executed them for or if she had slaughtered innocents on the orders of a corrupt President. The guilt gnawed away at her brain, until Dahlia was sure there was nothing left to plunder. Did she even deserve to live anymore after causing such pain and destruction? How could she live with herself knowing she had murdered so many who were more deserving of life than her?

So engrossed in her remorseful beliefs, she nearly missed the way Finnick's breathing had begun to grow uneven and laboured. He started to whimper in his sleep, muffled words slipping past his lips as he tossed and turned. Dahlia sat upright in her bed, eyebrows furrowed in concern at the sudden change in behaviour. She was hesitant to interfere, fearing that she would provoke anger by approaching him in this state. But then he began to thrash and wail in distress. She couldn't let him continue on like that.

Slipping from her own pod, she quickly padded across the cold floor over to Finnick's and timidly perched on the edge of his mattress. "Finnick." She whispered gently, attempting to wake him without startling or touching him. But his panic did not ease. Shuffling a tiny bit closer, she called his name more sharply this time, "Finnick." Still, he would not wake. Severely out of options, Dahlia's shaking hands tentatively made contact with Finnick's cheeks and began to smooth along his clammy skin. "Wake up, Finn. It's alright."

Finnick awoke to a soothing voice leading him out of the darkness of a nightmare and an angelic touch caressing his soul. He couldn't help but nuzzle into the soft hands skimming along his cheeks, his breathing becoming steady and calm. It wasn't until his eyes flickered open that he finally realised who had eased him from his night terrors.

"Lia." He gasped out weakly, forcing his body upright as Dahlia drew her hands back in. Blinking tiredly, Finnick raked a hand down his face and turned to her with an apologetic expression. "I'm so sorry."

The girl shook her head to dismiss his guilt-ridden apology, disguising her desire to place her hand back on his skin. "Are you..." She paused for a moment, wondering whether she should just return to her own bed and pretend to go back to sleep. But then she decided to take a big leap and stretch out a hand of kindness to a man she'd once yearned to kill. "Are you alright?"

Glancing up at her, a genuine smile appeared on Finnick's face at Dahlia's rehabilitation progress. He felt like he was starting to get her back, yet she still didn't know him. "I'm fine, Lia." He assured her, though Dahlia could easily see through his obvious lie. "Sorry for waking you."