A/N: Thank you to all of you who reviewed: Anonymous, Abigail25, & unpoisson.

I have decided that THE TRIBUTE, THE CAPITOLIST, & THE GIRL ON FIRE will all be from 7 to 9 chapters each

Please enjoy and review.

PART 1: THE TRIBUTE

CHAPTER 4: Falling Like Swallows From the Sky

I was here before the sands of time

waiting for the one to steal my guarded breath,

to cut my heart into scarlet rivulets of passion

and piece it together again with their bloodstained tears.

The day the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,

when we set our bare feet upon the pavement of the sky and fall upwards

into fire and water

A minute passes, and Panem waits with baited breath. When the two of them slam against the stone floor, Finnick's arm protectively around Cara, a sigh of relief flows from all the citizens and capitalists that are rooting for them.

Finnick crawls out of the path of the falling water, coughing. The water is bitter tasting and burning in his throat like vomit, and even with a lifetime of the sea under his belt, he finds it hard to breathe.

He falls forwards, and with some difficulty, untangles himself from Cara's shaking limbs. He puts her on her side and shakes her shoulder until she also begins to cough, great heaving attempts to breathe.

Both of them lay there, exhausted and soaked through with the foul water, as they try to clear their lungs.

"Are you alright?" Finnick finally asks. His voice is raw. Cara sits up, holding her pounding head with both hands, and looks at him.

"No, I'm not," she rasps. "I am not alright. I feel terrible. Stop staring at me."

"Sorry," he mutters, and he looks away.

It is several more minutes until they are fit enough to stand, and they find their backpacks, which are wet and soggy. Everything is soaked and Finnick tells Cara not to bother opening any of the packs, they need to move fast. She doesn't reply, maintaining an angry silence. This isn't how it should have gone...Finnick should be with the Careers and she should be alone. By being her ally, he was putting himself in danger. She was damaging his chances of being the Victor.

Also, he was making her feel uncomfortable. No, she wasn't tripping or stumbling, but whenever he looked at her, she felt strange, like she had to try harder to exist. Everything became a show, and without meaning to, she looked towards him for his approval.

Once everything was in order and the two of them have somewhat recovered, they begin their descent, stepping out from under the rocky outcrop and onto the downward sloping, vigorous path of stone that winds down the mountain. The water whirlpool had dropped them off at about two thirds down the mountain, and Cara estimates that it would take at least half a day of vigorous hiking to reach the ground.

Finnick clearly takes note of her stony silence and sighs. "We're stuck together until we reach the ground, Cara. At least pretend that we're allies until then."

She takes the lead, still not saying a word, and he follows her, carrying two backpacks. He cradles one arm to his body- it was grazed in the fall, and holds a large knife with his uninjured hand.

Cara wants to answer, but being funny takes effort-she's not going to waste energy on sarcasm or irony...both she and Finnick were tired enough as it is. A canon sounds far away, and she shivers, from the cold and from the thought that the Careers are still out and hunting. For her, for Finnick.

...

Finnick walks several paces behind Cara as they carefully climb downwards. She clearly wants nothing to do with him, and he begins to question his original motives. He had sacrificed himself to help her because in the spur of the moment, helping her was all that had mattered.

Its chilly, and there is a biting wind. Finnick tenses, trying to conserve body heat. His uniform is still wet even though an hour has passed, and he feels a shiver rising up in his chest. Cara isn't faring much better, she keeps sneezing.

Choo. Another sneeze.

"Cara, you're catching a cold. Let's find somewhere and make camp. We need to stop for the night anyways, it looks like the Gamemakers are planning to rain us out with a storm."

The sky is even darker than before, and the wind has picked up. The clouds are thick and heavy, and the incoming storm gives the illusion of nightfall. From the look of it, it'll be a matter of minutes before the rain will begin.

"We're still not allies, Finnick. I'm not going to spend the night with you."

He cocks his head and stares at her, with her tangled hair and tired eyes. She's exhausted, and wouldn't survive the storm if she didn't find shelter...it seemed like a single gust of wind could blow her away.

"Yes, you are," he decides for her.

"This is how we ended up together in the first place, with you insisting that we're allies," Cara says, her voice flat. But she follows Finnick as he forges ahead, hugging herself for warmth. Of course out of all the climates that the Gamemakers could have chosen for the arena, they made it dreary, rainy, and freezing cold. District 4 and District 10 were the furthest south in Panem...she had never been so cold in her life.

After several minutes of searching, they find a small cave on the side of the mountain and stumble inside in the darkness. It's begun to rain, and Cara stands in the entryway as Finnick walks forwards, feeling his way through the inky dark to check for animals that may be hiding in the cave.

He bumps into her on the way back, and tries but fails to catch her when she falls. She indignantly gets up, wiping the mud from her pants. "I would be angry, but you clearly can't see a thing. Do we have any flashlights?"

Finnick crouches down besides her, as the cave is briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning outside. He blindly rummages around in his backpack for a flashlight, and comes up digs through her own backpack, and triumphantly holds an object up.

"I have one." She fumbles with it, but can't seem to turn it on. In District 10 only the rich town kids could afford luxuries like flashlights, and she had never touched one before now.

Finnick feels her passing it to him, and his fingers touch hers briefly, a static shock passing between them. She snaps her hand back. Finnick pretends not to notice, although he is slightly hurt that she is so reluctant to trust him.

He flicks the switch on the side, and a strong stream of yellow light beams out.

"You know, with my luck, I was half expecting that to go in my eyes," Cara muses quietly as he moves their things into the back of the cave.

Finnick can't help himself. "I left the Careers for you, how lucky can you get?"

She doesn't falter, always ready with a comeback.

"You're basking in my presence, how lucky can you get?" She sighs, "Do you have any matches?"

Both of them look for matches, but the one pack that they find is wet and useless. Another flash of lightning cracks through the sky, and thunder that seems to shake the ground with it's intensity. Cara frowns as thick ropes of rain fall outside, creating a loud, constant roar. She turns to him, hugging herself more. It doesn't help, and she sneezes as she makes a remark.

"Well, now we'll die of hypothermia. Congratulations."

Finnick wrinkles his brow. His friend Annie had actually contracted hypothermia last year and had almost died if he hadn't been with her when she had fallen into the sea that winter. He and Cara had been basking in their own wet clothes for hours now, and his chest was starting to ache with cold. The arena had been windy from the beginning, and now that it had started to rain, sickness was inevitable. If they didn't dry themselves, both of them would catch fevers.

"I have a towel in my backpack, if we take off our clothes we can dry them," Finnick says, absent-mindedly looking through the jagged entrance of the cave into the complete darkness. The sounds of rain pattering across the miles of the arena is comforting in a way. It reminded him of home, of the tropical storms that filled the ocean and blew over the huts by the sea.

...

Take off our clothes.

Cara coughs back a reluctant laugh, shivering from a sudden gust of wind coming in through the entrance of the cave. It's such a ridiculous idea that it would make a good laugh without the current circumstances in play. Two teenagers who were still hot-headed from puberty, and not to brag, but both quite attractive...God, who knew what would happen?

But then again, if she caught a cold or contracted a fever, she would be digging her own grave. As Atala the training instructor had said, thirty percent of tributes died from disease, sickness, or infection.

"Fine, but you're next," she replies, turning her back to him. She pulls her shirt up over her head, the damp material sticking to her skin. Then with great difficulty, she hops out of the tight pants, kicking off her boots. There is a layer of thermal wear under the uniform, but even that is wet, and she peels it off feeling very self conscious and exposed.

Finnick watches her strip, his mind wandering. Without meaning to, he finds his eyes running over the soft curves of her hips, over the smooth skin of her back, down her long, flawless legs. She's beautiful... and he has a burning desire to-

"I'm freezing, Finnick!"

"Sorry, it's just...hormones." He laughs awkwardly, thoughts cut short, and hands her the towel. She wraps it around her shoulders and sits down, rocking from side to side to keep warm. It's not a large towel, and her legs are bare.

Finnick looks away, fighting the images that flash through his mind.

"Go on," Cara says, huddling. She is hugging a backpack, the extra bulk helping to keep the wind out. She feels scandalous, and has an urge to put all her wet clothes back on. Hopefully there are more interesting things happening in the arena and she and Finnick aren't being broadcasted live.

Then again, there is nothing more interesting than watching Finnick Odair undress.

He's surprisingly well-built for his age, tall, with muscles smooth and hard beneath his shirt and broad shoulders. He keeps his pants on, but she can see the V-shaped bones of his hips. He's lean and golden-skinned, and she can feel desire rising up in her throat. She pushes it down. She knew that this would happen. Finnick was staring at her, and she was staring at him.

A body spun from hours in the training room and at sea. Finnick probably was one of the Careers that trained in a special school, although since he's only fourteen, he can't have gotten much practice. Two years maybe?

"Nice abs," she remarks nonchalantly. Finnick smirks as if he's used to hearing it. He probably is.

"You're pretty hot yourself, Cara."

He sits down next to her, cocking his head to ask if it was okay. She nodded slightly and passed over half of the towel to him, hugging her backpack more tightly. He half-smiles and hands it back to her.

"You're enough for me," he murmurs in her ear. His breath is hot and his shoulder is touching hers, skin against skin. "I don't need anything else to survive."

Cara gives him a strange look. "Don't flirt with me."

He snickers, but suddenly stiffens, eyes hard and alert. The rain still drizzles on outside, but there's something wrong.

Someone is near.

Cara senses it too, and switches off the flashlight and grabs the knife that Finnick had given her earlier as a precaution.

He gets up in the dark to retrieve his weapons. Cara stands up as well, tightly clutching the knife. The towel falls from her shoulders.

Then she sees it. A weak, searching stream of light sweeping across their side of the mountain. Someone must have seen the light in the cave and was looking for them...it must be the Careers. No one else would brave the storm to hunt for tributes.

"Get dressed, we need to go!"

Finnick begins to stuff everything into the backpacks while tucking knives into his belt. Cara runs to her pile of clothes and hastily tries to turn them the right way out. But there's no time-

"We're coming to get you..."

Selene's voice eerily calls from outside, as the rain slows to a light mist. In a matter of seconds, the sky lightens to a foggy, dark grey. The Gamemakers want the audience to be able to see the show without the storm in the way.

Demonic laughter from Carrow and the other Careers echoes outside, and it scares her even more. Cara pulls on Finnick's shirt and jams her feet into her boots, shoving her own clothes into a backpack.

She has no pants on, but Finnick doesn't have a shirt on either, and at this point, being half-naked is the least of her worries.

He's already crouching at the entrance of the cave, shifting his weight as he prepares to run out. With the sky so light, they are no longer protected by darkness. If they leave the cave, it's likely that the Careers would attack.

"Cara," Finnick says, his voice full of tension. He grabs her hand.

Then he deftly leaps outside, and begins to sprint down the steep, rocky ledge. The fog is thick and it's as if they are falling, rushing, diving into the clouds themselves. The rush of adrenaline is overwhelming, and everything passes in a blur- dark stone, white mist, the sun-kissed skin of Finnick's back as he runs.

He skids to a stop, and Cara slams into him hard, almost pitching both of them off the edge of the ledge. He glances at her and then ahead again, where Selene and Carrow step out from the fog. Unconsciously, his fingers tighten around hers.

"Finnick," Selene says, and her blue eyes glint. "Well done, you've brought Chickenfeet to us as you promised."

Carrow smirks and takes a step forward towards Cara. Finnick shifts his weight so that his body covers hers, internally groaning as he realizes how convincing Selene sounds.

"Finnick." Cara says, pushing him away from her. Her voice is full of hurt. She believes them, she thinks that this was all just a ploy for him to kill her.

"Cara, its-" he pauses and thinks carefully as Selene watches smugly. Then he forces himself to play along, lifting his chin and straightening up. If he acted like it was true, maybe the chance to escape would present itself.

"You're an idiot, Cara. Did you really think that Finnick would want to be your ally? Hah, when he has the Careers? When he has me?" Selene hisses. She's enjoying this. On the other hand, Carrow's eyes are fixed on Cara's bare legs. Finnick wants to hurt him like he had threatened to so many nights ago. Training seems a lifetime away at this point.

Cara seems genuinely hurt, but she is too proud to admit defeat in front of Selene.

"What do you think we were doing before you interrupted us, Selene?"

Selene's eyes narrow as she examines the pair of them. Both half-naked, Chickenfeet wearing Finnick's shirt. Clearly they were sleeping together, or about to. She breathes out, disbelieving. She makes a rude sound and brings back her hand and slaps Cara across the cheek, the crack of her blow resounding through the mountains. Cara stands motionless, shocked, and Selene watches with satisfaction as pink marks blossom across her damn pretty little face. Finnick was hers, not Chickenfeet's.

Finnick stands there, his chest tight as he strains to think of a solution. He isn't sure if Selene really believes that he had led Cara to the Careers, or if this was just a scheme of hers. He makes his voice hard and stares straight into Cara's golden eyes.

"Don't even look at me with your filthy eyes, Finnick," she snaps.

"Why don't we let Carrow do that for me?" Finnick smiles, although seeing the hurt and anxiety spiking in Cara's expression makes it hard to. "Carrow, she's not wearing pants. Go ahead."

"Payback time," Carrow grunts, his piglike eyes lighting with lust. He lunges forwards and grabs Cara's arm, twisting it and bringing her down to the ground. He then proceeds to hold her down while he laughs deeply like the stupid manic he is. Finnick doesn't watch, turning away, his eyes darkening.

Selene laughs and walks forward to look over Carrow's shoulder as he continues to grab at Cara, Finnick's last statement convincd her that he was on the Career's side.

With both their backs turned to him, Finnick seizes the opportunity, using the point of his knife and driving it forcefully into Carrow's large backside. There is a moment of slowness before the large boy feels the pain and bellows aloud, clutching his thigh.

Selene turns, her expression changing, but then Carrow falls onto her, squashing her to the ground. She yelps in surprise as Carrow's bottom appears before her face. Finnick reaches around the two of them and grabs Cara, who is on the ground, sobbing. She lets herself be carried away, thinking that anything could be better than what she was just subjected to.

As he pulls her along, he throws another knife at Carrow, this one catching him in the back. Selene watches with hate burning in her eyes. She had not forgotten how impressive District 4's aim was.

Before either Selene or Carrow can struggle up or the other three Careers can find them, Finnick whisks his prize away into the fog.

"Do you still despise me?"

"More and more every passing second, Finnick."

"I'm sorry."

Cara sighs and looks away exasperatingly as Finnick apologizes again. After Finnick had escorted her down the rest of the mountain as quickly as possible, they had reached the mainland. Immediately the two of them had entangled themselves into the recesses of the dark evergreen forest. Only minutes after they had collapsed, exhausted from the frenzied escape, two parachutes had come in. One with bread and soup and the other with a fleece-like blanket.

"Why are you touching me? No touching," she says to Finnick as he places a hand on her arm. She sips the soup, each spoonful filling her body with warmth. Her clothes are back on, but she has caught a terrible cold and even the fleece blanket can't keep the breeze out.

She didn't trust him. Not at all. Not after he let Carrow do that to her. All of Panem had seen it happen, and she had never felt so helpless in her life... She would never trust him again. But he didn't have to know that.

Finnick chuckles softly and removes his hand. "Alright, no touching. But we can always kiss, or indulge in anything else you'd like."

He realizes how terrible the timing of his joke when Cara chokes on her soup and coughs, her eyes watering. He feels both guilt and jealousy all at once at the memory of Carrow slathering his mouth all over her. It was his fault that she's sick, and that she was assaulted by Carrow. Finnick had said to Carrow that he would never let it happen again...he should have killed the bastard when he had the chance. He would never forgive himself, and now, as he sees Cara shivering, her eyes anywhere but on him, he realizes that it was a terrible mistake. She was many things, but she wasn't an actress...she didn't trust him at all anymore.

"Ok, not funny. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I asked for it. But you should be careful with what you say. There are millions of women who would believe you in a heartbeat."

Finnick laughs uneasily. "Why don't you?"

"Because I have a twisted sense of humor just like you...I'm going to sleep. It's been a long day." All Cara wants to do is forget about the arena and the Hunger Games for a few hours.

His eyebrows draw together in indignation, and for the first time, she sees the side of Finnick that is a just a boy, not the perfect man he tries so hard to be.

"You lost my shirt, Cara. As compensation, at least stay awake and keep me company until the nightly count. I'll be bored out of my mind without you."

She feels a jolt of something inside her, the same feeling from the first time that she had seen him. His eyes are intense without him trying and there's a scratch on his cheek.

"I'm tired, Finnick, and it's at least an hour before the counting. I'm sorry...I promise I'll be up later tonight so you can sleep your turn," Cara strains her voice, trying not to be rude or sarcastic. She watches his eyes flick away as he runs a hand through his hair.

He's upset, or confused, or both, but she can't imagine why. Did he crave her company so much, when doubtlessly, his whole life had been filled with people lusting and falling over him?

"Alright, sleep. I'll see if I can find any plants and maybe scope the area for other tributes," he finally says after a moment of silence. He regains his charming, clever smile, and stands, although his eyes remain disappointed. "Be good and don't run away."

As soon as he leaves, Cara considers it. Running away. Oh, it would be easier for both of them. Finnick of course would benefit from her absence. He wouldn't need to take care of her anymore. But she wouldn't be so lucky. Much as she tries not to acknowledge it, the truth is that she would be long dead without his help.

"Finnick!" she calls. There is a rustle in the trees and he appears, worry in every fluid movement. When he sees that she's alright, he seems to melt in upon himself, his body relaxing. She watches him sigh, watches the tired, relieved smile that appears as he looks at her.

"Don't leave. I'll stay awake," she feels tears pricking her eyes, for what, she doesn't know. Just the way that Finnick is looking at her contradicts all her mistrust of him. "I'll stay awake for you."

"Are you crying?" he asks, still smiling softly at her.

"I don't cry...my eyes just like to throw up water," her voice breaks as she sniffs loudly. No, she wouldn't let him see her cry. After several snuffles, the tears have paused and she wipes them away.

When he sits down and puts an arm around her shoulder, whispering words of comfort and kindness, she lets him.

"You were going to run, weren't you?" he murmurs as she breathes shallow, quick breaths. He isn't used to this, seeing a girl cry. The girls he spent his time with did nothing more than flirt with him.

"No, of course I wasn't going to run. I just couldn't bear to be apart from your stunning presence. Have you ever been told that it's like a drug? One taste-"

Finnick snorts as she stops crying and begins to talk in that sarcastic way of hers again. So much for weak and innocent. He stares at her as she speaks, her eyes filmed over with sickness, but still stark and beautiful. He rubs her arm, realizing how breakable she is. She's skinny for someone from District 10.

"And you're hooked," he finishes for her. "I've never heard it, actually. But I think it about you."

"I told you not to flirt with me," she says, swatting at his hand. "And not to touch me, Finnick."

Finnick leans in, so that their mouths are almost touching, the blue-green of his eyes distracting. Cara doesn't move; doesn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her uncomfortable. He's too close, and his scent, blood and that foul water from the morning, is dizzying.

She remembers how different he had smelled that day in the training room when he ate lunch with her... just like Capitol- perfume and shampoo and other pretty things. Now that she thinks about it, it's strange that she remembered such a disconcerting thing.

Where had he gotten the perfume? Probably some delusional Capitol girl who believed every silken word that came from his lips.

Cara, on the other hand, would never fall to him. Never, she promises herself.

But when he smiles slightly, moving to the left so that his lips are brushing against her cheek, she feels herself breathing in his essence, craving his closeness.

"I could never agree with either of those requests. Not with you, Cara."

When the nightly count appears in the sky, Panem's national anthem serenades the golden hologram of the Capitol seal as all the tributes watch silently from far below.

The Careers have set up camp at the base of the mountain, a huge bonfire roaring into the cold air. Selene broods over her loss of Finnick Odair as she reluctantly helps Carrow clean his wounds from their scrabble with the District 10 wretch. Sergei, the new recruit, sits down and stretches his aching legs, wondering if his choice had been a mistake. He misses his district partner and hopes that she is still alive.

The other tributes, the prey of the hunters, are scattered in a five mile radius from where the bonfire rages. All of them were washed out by the storm, and had to find shelter. They huddle in their nooks and crannies, too cold, too hungry, too afraid. As the night wind lashes through the rippling sea of trees, they freeze. They are the forgotten, the collateral damage of the real show. They provide the minor entertainment while the spotlight shines on the powerful.

Finnick Odair lies on his back, elbows propping his body up. His eyes glow silver in the dreary, foggy light, and a smirk slowly appears as he feels Cara burrowing closer to him in the dark. The two of them are cold because of the sudden increase in the wind and swirling mist that sweeps through the arena, and they can't light a fire in fear of the Careers finding them.

One, two, three faces flash in succession in the sky. Another six follow. The anthem plays again before darkness closes in upon the hologram. Nine tributes have died on the first day of the 64th annual Hunger Games.

Cara nudges him with her arm, feels the hard muscle of his body. She hears the heady sigh that he breathes as he gazes at her.

She wants to ask him how many he had killed out of the nine tributes that died. Two? Three? The words lodge in her throat, and she realizes that she doesn't want to know how many. She knows that Finnick Odair is a killer... he had speared a boy through the chest before her eyes this very morning.

When Cara doesn't say anything, Finnick gets up, tucking the edges of the blanket around her when it billows up. She is as pale as a sheet, and when he crouches down in front of her, reaching out one hand to feel her cheek, it is burning with heat.

"You're so hot..." He murmurs, and then he realizes what he's just said and chuckles at himself. Her golden eyes are glazed with tiredness and fever, and at his touch she faintly mews a complaint before turning onto her side, already slipping into the lull of sleep.

The wind stirs, cold against his bare ribs. Finnick looks up towards the sky. He and Cara both wouldn't last long without a fire. She was sick and he was going to get sick as well if the chill persisted.

Finnick loudly, firmly, appeases to his sponsors. He asks for medicine and warm clothes, staring up into the fog as if he were looking at the sponsors themselves. It's his first time requesting of them. When he is sure that they hear him, he goes back to Cara's sleeping form.

He lies down besides her, crawling under the blanket and pressing himself to her unnaturally warm body. He matches his breath to hers, the heavy, fast pounding of his heart making it difficult. He had never felt this before- a sense of euphoria just from being close to someone.

Sleep doesn't come for hours, his mind and body occupied with greater things than rest.