A/N: Well, here it is! :D The love child of Inferno (still up for a little while longer) and my guilty pleasure. Leave reviews 'cause reviews are love and I love love :)

ONE

It was a silent ritual. We didn't speak of it after it happened and as far as we knew, it was unknown to the others onboard.

"Harder."

Gale would despise me if he knew, no doubt. After all, I was Katniss, his hunting partner. Not Katniss who needed to escape her own head through such desperate means.

"Faster."

Not the strong, fearless hunter I'd spent years trying to become. The strong-willed girl who could get by on her own. Who depended on no one and nothing.

"Shut up," he grunted, his sea green eyes full of anger. It wasn't directed at me. I'd learnt that already. And I could see him taking pains to avoid hurting me. He was angry with himself. Angry with himself for not being able to cope, for doing this to Annie, the poor mad girl who could never afford him this kind of bliss, and for (in his twisted understanding) taking advantage of me like this.

"Don't tell me to-" I began but the desperation in his eyes killed the words on my tongue.

His eyes flickered away from mine quickly after that, sensing perhaps that they'd revealed too much. I felt his heartbeat quicken through the sinewy muscle pressing against my chest. He was close. Recognizing the pleasurable burn deep in my stomach, I realized that I was just about there myself.

"Fin-" I began.

"Katniss, please." His voice was cold, formal.

I winced. With one last violent thrust, I felt my world explode. I couldn't see. I could only make out stars in the blinding white light dominating my vision. Finnick buried his face – the face thousand of women in the Capitol and across the districts would give anything to be with for the night – in my hair and I could tell that he, like me, was forgetting in that suspended moment of pure bliss.

It was over as quickly as it had come, though. All too soon, he collected his things and locked himself in the shower. I could hear the hot water blasting loud enough to muffle – but not completely cover up – his strangled cries.

He was hurting, just like me and that's how this silent arrangement had begun.

I pulled on my baggy jeans and cut off shirt, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ears. I found myself standing in front of the full-length mirror, disgusted at my own reflection. The hollow-eyed girl staring back at me was only a shadow of my former self. Before Peeta. Before the Hunger Games. Before any of this. The formerly glowing olive skin had dulled to a sickly yellow. My dark hair hung in oily strands around my face and I hastily arranged it into a sloppy imitation of my mother's braids. The spark in my grey eyes was extinguished. The eyes staring back at me now were that of a…a junkie. Someone who could barely hold it together long enough to get to District 13 or be worthy of leading a revolution. Someone who relied on these "sessions" with Finnick to stay alive and in one piece.

"I'm sorry."
The two words I'd grown so accustomed to hearing that they rolled right off of me shook me out of my analysis. I turned to see Finnick, fresh of out of his shower, standing against the bathroom door with only a flimsy white towel wrapped dangerously low on his waist and water droplets glistening against his golden abs.

His face was etched with remorse. "I didn't-"

I growled angrily. "Oh shut up."

He looked surprised, head snapping up to look at me. "…Sorry?"

"Cut it out," I ordered. "You know I need this just as much as you do-"

"Still doesn't make it right," he argued, though he barely had the energy anymore. "You're only a child, Kat-"

"Didn't seem like that a few minutes ago," I smirked.

He flinched. "Just because- Look, that doesn't mean- I have Annie. And…you and Peeta…"

It was my turn to wince. "Don't… just… don't. We'll find them. And then…"

"And then what?" he asked harshly. I gave a small shrug.

"We deal with the consequences."

"We land in two days."

I gaped. "It's been nearly a week! How-"

"Haymitch is taking the long route." Finnick shrugged. He dropped the towel as he talked, pulling on random articles of clothing. I turned, embarrassed despite having seen him in much more compromising situations.

"To avoid suspicion," he finished. I heard a snort, no doubt at my show of modesty. "The Capitol's monitoring all the usual airways and routes. We're taking a roundabout course Heavensbee devised."
I nodded, licking my chapped lips. "Makes sense I guess."

He made for the doorway then, as if a thought just occurred to him, turned and looked at me, cheeks tinged pink.

"Tomorrow then?" He bit his lip. He had that look again. The mixture of remorse, embarrassment, pleading and a hint of bashfulness. As if I would suddenly say no, walk out and leave him to break apart on his own. I needed him and he needed me. No words needed to explain that. It was the way things were.