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Disclaimer: I do not own anything from The Hunger Games trilogy all rights go to Suzanne Collins. I do however own Quinn and her story.

Peeta's screams echoed through the halls as Quinn hid from the Peacekeepers, a gun held close to her chest. He screamed for her, begging her to make them stop. Pleading for her to kill him. Searing hot tears burned her irises as she turned the corner, trying her hardest to block out the cries of the first person in a very long time that she had grown to call a friend. His screams were heart-wrenching, tearing at her very soul and forcing her bloodied hands to clutch at her ears until...nothing. The silence deafened her as she slowly removed her hands and forced herself to move forwards.

"You promised." A voice whispered from behind her, ricocheting off the whitened walls of the tribute building. Echoing incessantly in a private torment. "You promised, Quinn."

Slowly turning on her heel, she faced Katniss. Her face grey and her eyes hollow as she released an arrow towards the older victor. A sick smile on her face as it plunged into her chest.

Quinn gasped as she shot up, clutching her chest as sweat beaded across her blonde hairline. Blinking furiously, she ran her hands through her hair before stepping out of her bed and slipping on a pair of shoes.

District 13 was deathly silent aside from the distinct hum of the lights that lined the corridors. Her footsteps echoed as she tiptoed through the maze of concrete, finally arriving at her destination and sliding the metal door open.

"Hey, are you okay?" He whispered as she muttered an apology for waking him.

"Yeah. I just wanted to check up on you." The young woman lied sliding the heavy sheet of industrial metal shut again.

"Liar." Finnick smirked as he yawned, stretching before patting the bed beside him. "What's wrong?" He asked as she lay down beside him and they turned to face each other. He noticed the dark rings that cradled her ice blue eyes and the lack of colour across her cheeks; she was exhausted and it was beginning to get the better of her.

"Is it crazy to wish that I was still in the Games?" Quinn whispered, swatting his hand away when he moved a strand of her hair. "I mean...we live underground, we aren't allowed to the surface for natural daylight and we have to wear jumpsuits like prisoners. I can only imagine what is happening to Peeta and Johanna in The Capitol and you're crazy." The victor from five ranted between yawns.

Finnick's eyes crinkled as he laughed, "I'm not crazy...I tied less knots today than yesterday."

Rolling her eyes half-heartedly, Quinn confirmed: "You're crazy."

"Maybe a little." The man smiled warmly, one of the first genuine ones that he had managed since arriving in the underground district. Gently drawing patterns on the back of her hand while he watched her survey his face with an unusual concentration, he wanted nothing more than to forget about the rebellion – and the trauma that they had been through – and remain there with her.

Completely oblivious to his thoughts and blinking furiously to remain awake, the young woman voiced her own train of thought and it was much less pleasant: "Coin has everyone fooled into thinking that she is running a democracy but it's just another dictatorship. Democracies aren't run by one person with no room for another opinion, she just wants rid of Snow so she can control Panem on her own."

"That's a dangerous accusation." Finnick whispered warningly and Quinn yawned, rubbing her eyes. "Don't repeat that to anyone else."

"I just wish I was back in the arena doing what I do best. I don't know where I stand here..."