𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑶𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗.

It's Just Water.

Kit's warm hands clasped Rosie's cheeks, his erratic heartbeat could be felt through them.

"Stick with Finnick," he said thickly. Rosie noted his glassy eyes—not the type of glassy that came with his drinking, the type of glassy that meant he was trying to not break down. "Keep your head on your shoulders, kid." The older man scanned Rosie's face, the freckles, pale skin, green eyes and scattered scars. He was trying to commit it to memory; he'd never in his life been so scared to say goodbye to someone.

Not only did Rosie have a turbulent connection with President Snow, but Kai hated her guts. Furthermore, due to her fame and how the public adored her and wanted her to come out the other side on top, she was even more of a threat.

"Sixty seconds to launch," the announcement rang around the cold metal room.

"I love you," she whispered. "Thank you for keeping me mostly sane. I couldn't have done any of this shit without you."

The cold room seemed to drop even further in temperature. "I love you too, kid. I wish I was going in with you."

"I'm glad you're not. You're too old to be running around, you'll break a hip," a small smirk curled up on the corner of her mouth. They basked in the flicker of normalcy—this was what life should've been like, no fight to the deaths, no starving Districts. "Look after Tony, and make sure you keep the box of Toby's things. And–"

Kit wrapped her up in a hug, effectively shutting her up. A hand clasped the back of her head, not wanting to ever let go; not wanting to have to stand and watch her be taken back to an Arena that already had stolen so much of her. "You focus on staying alive, everything else I've got handled. Stay. Alive. That's all you gotta do," he assured.

"Ten seconds to launch."

"Easier said than done," she mumbled into his shirt. He smelt so safe.

Taking a steadying breath Rosie pulled away, having a feeling Kit wouldn't ever break the hug himself. Under all the rough, gruff exterior, he was a soft man who had just been through so much that he tuned out of life. But Rosie had saved him. Now he had to let her go, terrified that he'd never get to see her again. She saved him, but he couldn't seem to save her.

Her hand picked at the hem of her other sleeve as she moved to stand in the tube. When she turned to face Kit he hadn't moved, still on the other side of the room.

The glass closed around her.

This was it. It could so easily be the last time she ever saw his face—a man who had so unexpectedly become her family.

How they'd gone from him advising her to eat herself to death, to going to family dinners, was astounding.

The platform lifted and Rosie gave Kit a parting smile he couldn't bring himself to return.

Everything was dark for a few seconds, but when the grate above her lifted it was blindingly bright. Her heart thumped trying—and failing—to predict what kind of Hell she'd be subjected to. There were a few worst-case scenarios for the young woman, but they all revolved around the thing that almost killed her last time, a fear she couldn't tamp down: water.

Showers had been the extent of her experience with water since her Games.

It had been eight years and she still shivered at the thought of the cool liquid that somehow both froze her and burned her; the feeling of her lungs burning and screaming to take a breath, but her brain reasoning that taking a breath would be the last thing that would ever happen should she give into the urge.