She peeked around the corner. She could see him plainly, curled up against the wall. The ever-present worn piece of rope was twisted around his hands. His face was buried in his knees. She swallowed, her throat feeling drying and rough.

"Finnick?" she croaked.

He did not move. If he had heard her, he was not letting it show. She took a few tentative steps towards him. "Finnick?" she repeated softly. Again, he did not acknowledge her presence. For a fleeting moment, she felt tears gather in her eyes. She shook her head to herself, unsure of where they had come from.

With a few more steps she was standing over him. "Finnick?" she asked for a third time.

The head covered with matted bronze-colored hair lifted to reveal reddened eyes and blotchy golden skin. Another wave of emotion hit her. Matted and unkempt as his hair was, for some reason it reminded her of the ashy-blonde of Peeta's hair. His sea-green eyes could pass for blue...

"Katniss," he observed in a monotone.

They stood in silence for a few moments. Katniss watched him as he seemed to notice the rope in his hands for the first time. He untangled his hands from it and began to weave it into a complicated knot. She watched him thread the rope over and under and around, over and over again, until...

"Sit?" Finnick offered simply, raising his eyes to look at her. She nodded, dropping to the ground and leaning against the wall beside him. Without realizing what she was doing, she leaned her head onto his muscular shoulder. He did not seem to notice this, instead untying his knot and starting on a new one. She followed the movements of his fingers with lazy eyes until they stopped. She felt him turn his head to look at her.

"How do you do it?" he asked plainly. Katniss detached her head from his shoulder and fixed her eyes on his. The eye-contact seemed to make him uncomfortable, and he averted his gaze to look at her feet.

Perplexed, she inquired, "Do what?"

This seemed to confuse him. He sat back, his head against the wall. After a few moments inched by, he leaned forward slightly. "Can't describe it," he said shortly. "But you're different. From me, I mean. We've both lost..." He broke off. He looked to Katniss, who nodded to show she understood, and he continued. "I sit here making knots, because I think that if I stop, I'll go mad. But you don't need to do that. How?"

She let out a strangled sound like a laugh. "I think I've lost all sense of feeling," she murmured. "I don't think I really feel it anymore. My nerves are exhausted. They can't distinguish ecstasy from anguish, so they choose not to feel at all.

"Perhaps you could say I've already gone mad."

From his pocket, Finnick procured another length of rope. He twisted this one into his hands, passing the worn one to Katniss. She stared at it blankly. "Take it," Finnick breathed. "It's easier with an older rope."

"What's easier?" Katniss asked hoarsely, confused.

Finnick gave her an empty look. "Making knots, of course," he told her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Katniss nodded, her face still wary, and she reached out a hand to take the rope. She grasped the rough material in her hands and pulled it to her chest, staring at it.

"Copy me," Finnick told her. He held out his rope so she could see it and began to fiddle with it, contorting it into shapes Katniss did not know were possible. She tried her best to keep up with him, but when she finished her knot did not look remotely like his. He chuckled, taking her mangled mess of rope and somehow managing to return it to a single line. "It takes time, of course."

She took the rope back from him. "I don't understand," she said bluntly.

"What?"

"I said, I don't understand."

"No, I heard that."

"And?"

"And what? What don't you understand?"

Katniss sighed. "Why are you're showing this to me?"

The man from District 4 smiled ruefully. "I don't want you to go mad," he said simply. His voice held a strained note. "I've seen what going mad can do to people." His sea-green eyes watered slightly. Katniss looked away.

"It isn't fair."

They sat in silence for a while, the three words hanging heavily in the air. Though it took Katniss much persuasion to love Peeta for the sake of their lives, she could not deny that she loved him now. And Finnick! Finnick, whose body was sold against his will so he could keep those he loved alive. The one he truly loved was taken from him. She was mad, defenseless.

"I know," Finnick breathed. It was then that Katniss noticed she had leaned her head back on his strong shoulder. He reached out a tanned hand and lifted her chin so that she faced him. He was much too close. His breath smelled sweet. Katniss wondered briefly if he had been eating sugar cubes. Her mouth threatened to smile at the memory of when they had first met. He had been almost entirely naked aside from some carefully placed knots in the golden net he was wearing. He had been flirtatious, revolting Katniss. Now, however, he was different. Not so confident. Not so strong.

He was much too close.

"I can't," Katniss said hurriedly, millimeters from his face. She pulled away, her gray eyes mortified. "I can't," she repeated.

Before Finnick had a chance to speak, she jumped to her feet and ran, ran to save the love she almost lost.

AN: Happy birthday, Rach! Not totally Finnick/Katniss, but, as romantic fluff isn't my strong point, I just let the story take me where it wanted and ended up with this. Hope you liked it. :3 Or, at least, didn't utterly despise it. XD