Labyrinthine

Pairing: Finnick X OC

Rating: T for violence, language, dark themes, and slightly graphic scenes. Rating may change due to very graphic violent scenes and strong language.

Genres: Angst & Romance

Setting: Set from the 74th Hunger Games to the 75th

Full Summary: Her eyes were the sparkling, crashing waves of his home, her skin as soft as rose petals and her hair pure gold. Her lips were a drug, his poison, as sweet as his sugar cubes. She is a labyrinth, his labyrinth, and he could never seem to find the way out. She was dangerous, lethal, bloodthirsty, yet so irresistible. He's addicted, but to her he's just another obstacle in her way. They are from two different worlds. He was a simple boy turned Capitol pet, she the insane, and yet insanely beautiful Mayor's daughter. Everything in his life used to be so simple, the same routine, but once he met her, that all changed. Everything began to come back, the fear of everything began to return, each cannon boom, every piercing scream, every mutilated corpse. Except this time this fear wasn't of dying. It was his fear of her dying. She is his life, the only thing that he believes is worth living for. He's just one of her many admirers, yet she's the only one that seems uninterested in him. Even in the midst of every death, every tear, every kiss, he will forever be hers. She keeps trying to convince him otherwise. He simply won't listen. In his mind, they were meant to be. After all, he's just as broken as she is. And she will be his. For eternity.

Chapter 2: Just when I got someone pretty...

I've been losing follows and favorites the past few days, and I don't know why but it's making me sad. :( If I'm not living up to your standards, please please tell me. I want to know how I can make this as enjoyable for you guys to read as it is for me to write. There's a community for the series, the "Translucent" series, so follow that if you want to see when the sequels and the prequel come out! I just wanted to clarify some things that I saw in the reviews.

sera: Vanessa will go back to therapy. It's for her dreams, she gets the same dream every night and she goes crazy trying to find the person in her dreams. Something will happen soon, I promise. I understand that she may seem like a huge Mary-Sue now, but the story plot is going to develop soon. Please, no more Mary-Sue comments though, people. I understand this already, and I'm working on it. You have to understand though, that Finnick only did that because Vanessa's parents "bought" Finnick. I bet you all understand what that means, so he has to do it. I understand that you're not trying to be mean or a flamer, and thank you for the constructive criticism.

littledamphir13: I understand their dialogue was a little awkward, but I was really rushed while writing it, so I'm working on re-writing their dialogue.

Evanescence853: Thank you for the constructive criticism, my dear friend. I understand, and I thank you for being such a great friend. I miss you too, but we're both busy these days with the holidays going on and everything. PM me soon Eva!

DeadlyPrincess21: Thank you so much, that was very sweet . :)

Also, I want to warn you that there will be language in this chapter. Adult language. It mean swearing and cuss words. The Hunger Games is about kids killing each other, the president smells like blood and poisons people, Finnick is a prostitute, people watch killing for entertainment, and kids are trained on how to murder each other and you don't expect language? Especially after reading the prologue? Vanessa isn't very innocent, actually she's not quite sane. If you didn't realize there was going to be language.. then... well... how naïve of you. But I can't blame you, I'm oblivious too. I won't asterisk any "choice" words because I really, frankly, don't have the time to go through and do that, so sorry to all who don't like cussing!

Oh, and I keep forgetting the disclaimer. I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy, any of the characters besides Axel, Ryder, Vanessa, Phoenix, Cade, the District 4 Mayor and his wife, and any OC's that may be later introduced, seeing as all original characters, the series, the Hunger Games idea, and all products relating or pertaining to the original series and/or it's characters belongs to Suzanne Collins. (Is this how you write these things?)

Bright flames engulf my vision and pain shoots through my body, ripping through my flesh as I scream in agony. Through my half-lidded eyes the only thing I can see is the blurred outline of a person holding me to their chest tightly. The voice I miss so much cuts through the air, the person sobbing quietly. "It's okay, the pain will stop soon. Please! Don't leave me, just wait for the hovercraft! It will be here soon, I promise! Why did this have to happen? Please, darling, stay with me. You're strong, you're going to pull through." A single wet tear splashes on my face as darkness slowly seeps into my brain, my vision going black. My body goes limp languidly from the excruciating pain and I dangle like a rag doll in the person's arms. "NO! Adonia, please! Please... please." Opening my dry, cracked mouth, I whisper something, my voice frail and barely audible through the loud chaos of the wreckage.

"Goodbye, I love you, forever and always." Sobs rack the person's body as my face is pressed against their tear-soaked shirt, minty breath fanning over my cheek. A warm, rough pair of lips gently press against my own as my eyelids flutter shut, a lone teardrop dangling off of my eyelashes, illuminated in the flickering flames of the wreckage. Strong arms coocoon in a chrysalis around my waist as I slowly slip away, losing my grip on reality. I feel my motionless body being lifted up into the air, cool metal replacing the warm arms that heard me seconds before. The person screams. "No! Adonia, I will avenge you, I'll do anything it takes. I'll make them suffer for taking you away from me. I will get you back one day, I promise."

Abrupt, impatient ringing of the doorbell jolts me to my senses, the noise echoing throughout the household repetetively. The luminescence of the shining sun peeks through a gap in the ruffled curtains as I rub my eyes, yawning tiredly. There is no frantic shuffling in the hallways as I realize with annoyance that my wretched parents are not awake yet and all the maids and servants are on break. Right, today is the day of the Reapings. I throw the silk comforter to the side, the sudden burst of cool air sending tingles up my skin. Pushing the silk canopy of the bed out of my way, I step lightly onto the freezing hardwood floor, goosebumps trailing up my bare legs causing me to shiver slightly.

I take a quick peek at the clock as I pick up a random hairbrush, glancing at the time. Four o'clock AM. Who would be at the door at four in the morning on a Reaping day? Hesitating slightly, I lift the golden hairbrush and yank it though my messy hair, the thin strands unraveling under the silver bristles of the brush. The ringing becomes more constant, interrupting my thoughts of the possible scenarios that could occur during this year's Reaping.

Not even bothering to change out of my sleepwear, I hurry down the soft, carpeted stairwell leading to the front door. Magnificent, high-end technology and gadgets are displayed in every corner of every room I pass as I run towards the annoying doorbell, but I don't stop to admire them. I've seen those things too many times to care.

A final ring of the doorbell echoes throughout the house and the shadow of someone standing impatiently, arms crossed, is visible from the large windows adorning the front of the mansion. Flicking on the light switch, the massive, crystal chandelier lights up overhead and I reach over, grabbing the golden door handle and yank it open.

The heavy wooden door slowly creaks open, giving me a view of the snowy landscape outside and the falling snow. No wonder it's so cold. I don't pay attention to the snow or the cold, however, and instead stare at the boy standing in front of me with disdain, extremely annoyed. His mop of messy bronze hair ruffles in the slight breeze as he gazes upon my frame, his sea green eyes sparkling. He isn't simply a boy, he is a god. I internally slap myself. No, Vanessa. He's just going to die like Axel and Ryder did if you get attached to him. You are going into the Games in two weeks. Snap out of it. Once the bronze-haired Adonis opens his mouth to speak, however, all thoughts of him being attractive in the least dissipate quickly. I wasn't in awe anymore, I was revolted. Revolted and extremely pissed.

Leaning forward, he steps closer to my considerably shorter frame and bends down so he is standing at my eye level. "Bonjour," he purrs, his warm breath fanning across the nape of my neck. "Comment allez-vous, belle?" I roll my eyes at his attempts to flirt, in French moreover, but answer politely, smiling. He may be attractive, but flirts are something I can't stand. I shrug him away and he takes a step back, eyeing me with his gaze lingering a few seconds too long on my chest. Pervert.

"Je me débrouille très bien, qu'en est-il de vous?" I reply in a perfect French accent, the language easily rolling off my tongue as if I had known it since I was born.

He ignores my question, instead continuing to try and strike up a conversation. "Donc, chaton sait français, hein?"

"Oui, je sais que français. Maintenant aller plus loin." Annoyed, I prepare to slam the door in his face but he holds the door open with one arm, raising his eyebrows suggestively as he notices the short nightgown I am currently wearing. My cheeks heat up slightly but cool down quickly as a blast of icy wind hits my face, blowing a few snowflakes into the house.

"Mais darling, je ne suis pas tout à fait fini de vous parler encore." I resist the urge to pin him to the walls and slice his neck, instead choosing to slam the door as hard as I can, probably bruising his arm in the process.

"Je le suis. Une agréable journée." I call out, laughing. My giggles cease once I see through the snow covering the front windows that the extremely infuriating boy is still standing in the doorway. The door creaks opens slowly and I tilt my head, studying his form as he takes a few cautious steps into the house.

Rolling my eyes, I throw Infinite and watch as I prepare for it's blade to pin him to the wall of the house. Instead, the boy instinctively ducks in the miniscule time period he had to realize there was a dagger being thrown at him and the dagger sticks in the cream-colored wall with a loud thump. My eyes widen in surprise. Either he's been trained very well or he's a Victor, but then why would he be here? He should be in the Victor's Village or preparing to volunteer.

His eyes land on me and he laughs, mocking me. My eyes narrow as I draw Infinity from my other pocket, approaching him slowly and preparing to do some serious damage if he tries anything. "Who the hell are you and what in the name of Panem do you want?" I yell, exasperated. "It's only four in the fucking morning! The Reapings aren't for another six hours, so if you're here to beg my father to take your slips out of the bowl, I don't give a shit! Get out!" He chuckles, the deep bass of his laugh echoing through the large mansion for the second time.

"Well, I'm Finnick Odair, darling." Finnick Odair. The bronze-haired, green-eyed Capitol manwhore. I never understood why he was so popular, especially with the women. With the slightest mention of his name, the girls (and disgustingly, a few men) anywhere within a twenty-foot radius of the speaker would burst into a flurry of excited chatter and giggles. I didn't know what he did for a living, that was, until my father offerred to "buy" me a night with him. My answer was a quick, disgusted no.

The only thing I wondered about this Adonis was why everything he did seemed so forced. His seductive grins, suggestive, husky voice and his evocative gestures. It all seemed so fake, so unwilling. He didn't like what he was, that much I could tell. I pointed that out to Mother once, and all she did was shush me and call me silly. I wasn't silly. I could tell, I could read what he really felt through his eyes, the beautiful, hauntingly sad windows to his soul.

The Capitol and its Capitolites' adoration for him and his stunning features was very obviously real, but the disgust and disdain mirrored in his eyes every time he was near a Capitolite was obvious. He did a good job trying to hide it, I could applaud him for that, but he didn't do good enough. But why, why didnt he change, why didn't he stop if he hated it so much, if he hated them so much? Was he that greedy for money? For riches, fame, or treasures? What could he get from throwing his soul, his existence into the hands of the most ruthless, most powerful dictator on Earth? It didn't make sense, something didn't click.

Finnick's voice interrupts my thoughts, bringing me out of my stupor. "Haven't you ever heard of me? Victor, handsomest man alive-" I roll my eyes and interrupt, lowering my voice to an exact replica of his own and continue his sentence for him.

"-manwhore, prostitute, murderer, notorious womanizer." I finish, smirking. Switching back to my original voice, I make my face look as innocent as possible. "Oh yeah, I've heard of you. Picked up a few dozen sluts on the way here?"

My bitchy attitude is obviously affecting him because he looks down at my form with annoyance, eyes narrowed. "No, I'm looking for a certain person. Can you help me find her?"

"Who are you looking for? Unless you want to talk to my mother, there's no one here. You're at the wrong place."

He looks confused. "Isn't this the Mayor's mansion?"

"It's the biggest house in the district, of course it belongs to the poorest family in District 4. Why don't you go look somewhere near the edge of a cliff?" I reply, sarcastically. He looks at me unamused. "Of course it's the Mayor's mansion."

"I'm looking for,..." he looks at his palm and I see a few words sloppily scrawled on his hand in ink.

"Yes?"

"Vanessa Black." he finishes, his gaze leaving his palm and returning to my face.

"Vanessa? Vanessa Black?"

Sighing, he runs his hands through his hair. "Do I really have to repeat myself?"

Ignoring his question, I slam him to the wall and place my dagger's blade against his neck. Looking up, I see his eyes wide open in confusion and a glimmer of fear flashes through his eyes. I grit my teeth and press the dagger harder on his tanned skin, almost drawing blood. "Why. Are. You. Looking. For. Me." I growl, daring him to lie straight to my face. He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by my mother's loud voice echoing down the hallway.

"Vanessa, who is at the door?" Dropping him to the floor, I brush off my nightgown and sheath my blade, pulling the other dagger out of the wall and putting it away as well. Turning to him, I glare as menacingly as I can and inwardly smile as I see him coward slightly.

"Finnick Odair, mother." I hear the shuffling of bedsheets and quick footsteps heading in our direction and I lean against the banister of the stairs, waiting for my mother to show up. A minute later, my mother hurries down the staircase and, seeing Finnick, smiles brightly.

"Oh, Finnick! You're here! I didn't expect you to be on time." My eyebrows scrunch up as I look back and forth from my cheerful mother to the suddenly solemn boy a few feet away from me, not comprehending the current situation.

After a second of comparing possible scenarios, I blurt out "On time for what?" Still smiling, my mother leads me and Finnick to the living room and sits us both down on a soft, velvet couch and begins to leave.

On her way, she calls out "For your appointment, of course!" before quickly exiting the room and closing the door. Her words process through my head and as soon as I understand what she is referring to, I open my eyes wide in alarm.

"No! No way, I am not doing that. Not with you, not with anyone, not here, not anywhere. Get out!" Finnick looks surprised and then smirks, pulling me into his lap without warning.

"Changed your mind, did we? Don't worry my kitten, I'll be gentle." I inspect his face as he whispers in my ear, noticing the blank, unfeeling look in his eyes. Elbowing him hard, I jump off his lap and sprint for the door.

"Stop it! I didn't ask you to be here."

"You didn't?"

"No." I stop as I hear him whisper something under his breath as he exhales loudly.

My smile grows and I giggle. "What was that, Finnick?" He looks up sheepishly and repeats it.

"I said," he sighs exaggeratedly, "Aww, just when I actually got someone pretty."

Some French translations for all of you out there who didn't understand a single word of their entire conversation: (Please feel free to PM me if I have made any mistakes with the translations, thanks!)

Bonjour, belle = Hello, beautiful.

Comment allez-vous, belle? = How are you doing, beautiful?

Je me débrouille très bien, qu'en est-il de vous? = I am doing fine, how about you?

Donc, chaton sait français, hein? = So, kitten knows French, huh?

Oui, je sais que français. Maintenant aller plus loin. = Yes, I do know French. Now go away.

Mais darling, je ne suis pas tout à fait fini de vous parler encore. = But darling, I am not quite finished talking to you yet.

Je le suis. Une agréable journée. = I am. Have a nice day.

Pourquoi êtes-vous encore ici? = Why are you still here?

This chapter is dedicated to (who I am 100% sure is reading this right now since she's absolutely -and unhealthily- addicted to this story...) who I call Smithy. Smithy, this chapter is a...second Christmas present. Be happy about it. Smile. I know you're smiling. Oh yeah, and Smithy, text me. Alrighty then, with this covered, I can move on. Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive since the beginning of this story even though I update very, very rarely, and for that I'm extremely sorry. This chapter was not beta'ed, edited, and didn't even have a rough draft, actually, *scratches back of head in shame* this is pretty much the rough draft. I wanted to get the chapter up today, though, so I tried my best to get it done last minute after I came back from a piano recital and a vacation (which I had no WiFi on either). I promise, I tried my best. Practicing for four hours straight last minute for a piano recital does nothing to calm your nerves. Or help you, in my case. I literally almost dropped dead after I got there. I hate playing in front of audiences. Oh well, thanks for reading my blabbering and please review with comments, ideas, or suggestions. I'll try to get as much writing as I can before the end of Winter break! Love you all, Safarilover1