CHAPTER 12
LAST PIECE OF THE PUZZLE

SHARING a bed with someone was never as easy as it seemed.

Bex once shared her bed with Keaton when they were younger. When they lived in the one-bedroom house her own father had built himself, before her victory and riches. Her and Keaton shared the only bedroom, and their tiny bodies had fit just right in the small mattress. But then, Keaton went through puberty, and suddenly, that bed became even smaller. Trying to sleep on the same mattress with him became a fight through the night where she was always on the losing end.

Sleeping next to Finnick was almost the same thing. But instead of losing, the two ended up intertwined in each other's holds. After waking up from a similar nightmare, Bex fell back onto Finnick's chest, and he was too tired to move away. The feeling of his arms around as the cool, spring breeze wafted through her window, the sound of his heartbeat lulling her to sleep – now that was something she could never forget. It was the most at peace she ever felt. She didn't have any nightmares in his embrace, and neither did he.

Once the sun drifted through the curtains and the two realized what position they were in, they didn't say a word. Not even an acknowledgment. As if it had never happened. Finnick sent her a simple smirk before Bex shoved him away, almost off the mattress.

At breakfast, Bex suggested in Finnick's direction, "We should go into town today. You still haven't seen the Trading Square. There's a market, a bunch of shops, and I really need to get some fresh vegetables for the pantry."

Finnick gave her that same smirk she had seen this morning, which felt like a sucker punch to the gut. Bex's breath hitched silently, but she didn't move an inch. Her grip on her fork tightened.

"Sure," he finally replied, "sounds fun."

Bex felt a weird sort of tension between them all morning, and it certainly didn't help to see him walk by in only a towel. She had waited for him to get ready after she changed, picking at her nails while he showered. Once the door to her bathroom opened, a huge gust of steam filtered out, and Finnick sauntered with a towel hanging loosely from his hips. Bex swallowed hard, hoping her cheeks weren't flushed, and did her best to focus on picking the polish off her nail buds. But it was hard.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to not pay attention when a man with a god-like structure is just waltzing through your room? She learned that the hard way.

But when they finally headed outside into the fresh, spring sun, the awkwardness drifted into the wind. Finnick had explained that he still wanted to keep a low cover while they were outside, so Bex plucked her father's old wide-brimmed hat hanging on the wall. She hesitated, looking down at it in her hands, and remembered the summer days when he would wear it on their trips into town. The hat hadn't left its spot on the wall in a long time, but Bex was dedicated to making changes.

The smile that graced her lips when she placed the hat on Finnick's head, covering his hair, was one of the brightest he'd ever seen.

As they were about to leave the gates, Bex suggested that they should probably invite Johanna, and Finnick practically ran over to his friend's house. Johanna opened the door with her pajamas still on, her eyes widening at the sight of Finnick there with his arms spread open. That was the first time Bex saw Johanna genuinely smile. She embraced Finnick before looking to Bex. "Why didn't you tell me he was coming?!" She exclaimed.

"Did you think I really knew?" Bex raised a brow.

"What are you doing today, Johanna?" Finnick asked, rubbing his hands together. "Bex is going to take me to this Trading Square. You should come."

Johanna beamed and shook Finnick's shoulder. That natural harshness to her voice was gone, and she replied happily, "Of course, I should."

The three were walking through the busy crowds of the Trading Square before noon rolled around. Bex and Johanna showed Finnick the factory that produced paper for the Capitol, as well as the dozen shops that lined their path. The Justice Building loomed in the background, attempting to cast a dark shade over the District. But it was still a nice day outside, and the air smelled of pine and fresh rainfall. No wonder why everyone was out today. Finnick kept his head down, even when Bex convinced him that no one was going to care about his presence, but he was still cautious. The hat covered most of his face from the sun and the people.

The Halston family was currently selling the freshest tomatoes Bex had seen. She picked up a few and threw them into her wicker basket, completely unaware of Finnick picking up one of his own and biting into it. Mrs. Halston chuckled once she noticed him, and then Bex turned to see his mouth lodged into the tomato. She immediately apologized to the family, but Mrs. Halston didn't fret. "It's on the house," she muttered, tapping the top of Bex's hand as she slid her payment. "Thank you. May the odds be ever in your favor."

The wink Mrs. Halston gave her made her shudder, but Bex wouldn't let her paranoia show. She sent her a sweet smile and shoved Finnick away from the produce stand. "You can't just take stuff!" She exclaimed, knocking the brim of her dad's hat.

Finnick adjusted the hat and grinned down at her. "Guess I'm just used to the Victor treatment. Sometimes I forget when I visit different Districts."

Bex rolled her eyes, angling down the opposite end of the square. Peacekeepers passed by like waves, more than she would've liked to count, and Finnick tilted his head down when he spotted them. Johanna hung an arm across his shoulders, despite her small stature, and carried another loaf of sweet bread in her hands. As the sun beat down on her, Bex wondered if she should've worn a hat herself. She turned her head and watched Finnick bite into the ripe tomato again, fighting off the urge to laugh.

The world suddenly seemed so much brighter with him there.

Their hands brushed against each other's and Bex shivered, even in the warm sun, as she thought what it would be like to hold his hand. Would it feel as comforting as his embrace in the late hours of the night?

She licked her lips and turned away.

Finnick Odair held a lot of hands, embraced a lot of people, shared kisses with many. Lacing his fingers with Bex Nassar's wouldn't feel any different. So why was she so sure that she felt a spark of electricity at the mere skimming of their hands?

Bex looked ahead and every thought dissipated.

Angelo stood behind his stand, his usual spot at the end of the market. An older woman hustled around him, which Bex could only guess was his mother. They shared the same chocolate eyes and dark curls, their skin a similar olive tone. She was much smaller than him though, lines etched into her skin from years of hard work and dedication, but she was still beaming. Her smile reminded Bex a lot of Angelo's.

Time had ceased. Bex hadn't even noticed she stopped walking until Finnick exclaimed in her ear, "Hellooo, Bex? Anyone there?" She blinked a few times. Her head swung to face her two friends and she tried to form an excuse. Words failed her. The people around them pushed on by, but didn't come within a foot of the three Victors.

"What?" Bex asked, beginning to walk ahead. "Aren't you guys coming? I need to find –"

Finnick arched a brow. "Who were you staring at? It was like you were on another planet."

Johanna chuckled and pointed out Angelo's stand several feet ahead of them. "Oh, I know. That guy over there at the meat stand is Angelo. Bex has a huge crush on him. But she turned him down when he asked her on a date."

Bex smacked a hand on her forehead. There was no point in denying it. She reached over and pushed Johanna's arm down, reprimanding her for being so obvious.

Finnick viewed up and found Angelo's stand, pausing to stare at him. "Is that the guy you talked to me about?"

She nodded, watching him snicker with Johanna. Bex's eyes narrowed. She wondered if that was jealousy that flashed across his face or her own mind tricking her.

"Well," Finnick sighed, glancing at Bex, "I expected him to be less lanky."

Bex opened her mouth, wanting to tell them that nothing was going to happen – she couldn't let it – but silence overcame her. Instead, she shook her head and looked away.

"If you two are done," she sneered, dangling her basket in front of them, "I have more shopping to do. We should maybe focus on getting what I came here for rather than worrying about my love life."

Johanna chuckled, "If you say so."

Bex rolled her eyes and walked off towards Mrs. Yance's booth. Looking down at the list in her pocket, she counted off exactly what she needed. Bex paused a few feet away when she noticed another person at Mrs. Yance's stand, sliding money into her wrinkly hands.

But then, Bex blinked, and she noticed the way Mrs. Yance took the coins carefully. The old woman stared at the man before her, and then slowly lifted the corner of her jacket. A flash of gold shown in the light. It was a pin – a mockingjay pin. The man nodded in agreement and they both sent each other a smile before he was on his way. Mrs. Yance covered the pin just as quickly.

The mockingjay was a symbol of rebellion.

Uprisings. Riots. Rebellion. Hope.

Bex heard the President's voice in her ear: It is the only thing stronger than fear.

He said a little hope was effective, but what about a lot of it? What danger could that impose?

Peacekeepers were gathering throughout the market. Surely, they couldn't have seen the pin. But the threat was still there, and if they found the old widow with a symbol of rebellion —

Mrs. Yance met her stare through the crowd, and Bex felt all the air leave her lungs. She was moving backward, bumping into people left and right, until she ended up crashing into Finnick's chest. Bex viewed up, meeting his confused expression. Johanna had a similar look. She was spooked – anyone could see that – but from what, they had no idea.

"What's wrong?" Finnick asked, fear in his eyes.

Bex scrubbed a hand down her face and tugged on their arms. "We should leave."

Johanna ripped her arm away. "But you didn't finish your shopping –"

"Doesn't matter."

The other two shared a look before following Bex out of the Trading Square, back down the path they came. Bex swallowed hard and looked over her shoulder, finding Mrs. Yance in the horde of people. The widow had vanished from her stand.

━━━━━━

Finnick and Bex practically flopped on the sofa in her living room after dinner, stomachs full of tomato stew and seasoned rabbit. After a few beers, Keaton had already gone to bed, kissing his sister's cheek before he walked to his bedroom. Bex, however, was too full to even move up the stairs. She sunk into the cushions, hugging a pillow, as Finnick swung his arms over the back of the couch and groaned loudly.

"I've only had rabbit once – maybe twice – but that was the best ever. You don't usually eat it in Four." He turned his head, ogling the photo frame of Bex's parents on the table beside him, but turned away before she could notice. "I don't think I can move."

Bex huffed and leaned forward to grab the remote. "This is about all I can do right now." She turned on the TV and a large hologram flashed before their eyes. The quality was a bit staticky at first, probably due to the wind outside. Or that her reception had never been that great.

She almost elicited the same groan Finnick released just moments ago at the sight of Claudius Templesmith. He was currently broadcasting "insider information" about what Katniss' wedding dress was going to look like. The report came from Cinna's recently-fired assistant, and she babbled on and on about the spectacular designs her boss had come up with. Bex had to choke down the scoff rising in her throat.

Instead, she asked Finnick, "Do you think they're actually going to get married?"

The projection switched to a replay of the proposal – probably the fifth time they'd both seen it. "I reckon they have to now," he commented.

"You can see on her face how tired she is." Bex sighed, studying the video closely. She watched the blank expression cover Katniss' face as Peeta rambled on to Caesar in a past interview. "I'm tired for her."

"She's doing something that's going to change everything though. I can feel it."

Bex swung her head and met his eyes. He arched a brow in her direction, one side of his lips lifting. She remembered someone else saying something similar –

That Girl on Fire has surely sent out a spark.

She shook her head at Plutarch's voice, turning away from Finnick. He did the same, eyes glued to the TV as he muttered, "But who knows. This could all just be rumors made to scare the Capitol –"

Bex snorted, "Consider them scared."

Finnick's expression pinched. Bex noticed his furrowed brow and looked off, rubbing at the end of her nose. "Basically," she began, one hand out, "I talked with the new Head Gamemaker at Snow's last party. Remember? He came up to us while we were dancing. Plutarch was his name. He said he wants the Games to mean something again. Katniss is sending out a spark."

His eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure." Bex watched Snow clap on the static projection, and the screen flashed to a picture taken with Katniss and Peeta during their Victor coronation. She pointed to Katniss' furious expression on the TV. "But I know she wants his head on a spike just as much as we do."

Finnick scrubbed a hand down his face. He looked to the remote and then back to her. She was leaning forward, elbows propper on her knees, as she watched the projection, eyes hardly blinking. She didn't want to miss a second of examining the broadcast. Finnick cleared his throat and pointed to the remote. "Do you mind?"

Bex blinked before leaning back into the sofa, gesturing for him to go ahead.

He reached over and shut off the TV, watching it dissolve back into the cable box. Finnick licked the corners of his lips. They were both silent, and that was when Bex contemplated what they had in common. They hardly knew what to do when they weren't talking about the Games. Any other conversation felt awkward and tense, but this ... the silence was suddenly so vicious.

Maybe it was just her. She needed to learn to open up more, but nobody realized how hard that was.

"Sorry," he muttered, "that conversation was just depressing."

Bex hummed back a response, but let the quiet echo again.

From the look on his face, she wondered if he was wondering why he came to Seven in the first place, if he was regretting it. She wasn't exactly the most interesting, or the most talkative. His brows crossed. Perhaps he'd made a mistake and he was debating when was the right time to leave. She'd understand –

"Do you have any music?"

She viewed up, seeing him standing before her. She'd been so in her head – yet again. "Um ..." Bex glanced towards the entrance of the kitchen and pointed. "There's a small pod in the kitchen window." It was one of her favorite things she'd selfishly bought in the Capitol. The speaker was as small as a coaster, and when turned on, it ignited a tiny hologram of a band playing together.

Finnick came back with the pod a moment later, setting it down on the table beside him, right next to the frame of her parents. Pressing down on the top button, a hologram instantly emerged of an instrumental band with a chorus of people singing along. The tune was familiar, but Bex couldn't quite put her finger on it.

And then, Finnick was standing in front of her, reaching out and awaiting her touch. Bex furrowed her brow and viewed up. "We should dance," he clarified, hand wavering before her. "Our last one got cut short."

Suddenly, Bex didn't feel so full anymore.

Her hand slipped into his own, traveling up to his wrist as she stood up. "Don't get any ideas," she grumbled and placed her other hand on his shoulder. Finnick only laughed, sliding his right hand on the small of her back, just as he had at Snow's party. His grip was firm as their hands clasped together, but his fingers were soft, free of the blisters and callouses that covered her own hands. She met his eyes and he smiled as they swayed along to the music.

Listening further, Bex finally realized where she heard this song –

Deep, deep in the trees, the chorus sang together, I find you there. My one, one and only. In the heart of the forest that is my home. Your love rides on the autumn wind, tumbling with the leaves. But it always leads me to you. My one, one and only. In the heart of the forest that is my home.

She had heard the song played in videos from her parents' wedding – that grand, beautiful wedding held in the woods behind their old house, where their family and friends had come together to create something worthy of the gods when her parents' didn't have the money to do so. Bex instinctively held Finnick tighter as the memories of them played in her head.

"This is the District Seven wedding song," she murmured, loud enough for him to hear. "It reminds me of my parents. My mom would sometimes hum this to me as a kid."

She laid her head on Finnick's broad chest, breathing in his scent. It had always been a mix of saltwater and citrus, but he now had a hint of lumber lingering on the neckline of his shirt. Seven was rubbing off on him. The blend of aromas made her want to stay in this position forever: holding him close, pressing her cheek against his freckled chest, instrumentals playing softly in the background.

Now, this was what it felt like to be human, to not be part of a machine.

"What happened to your parents?"

His voice was gentle, only a mere whisper. If she didn't recognize his voice, she might've thought it was the wind. Bex breathed in, inviting the saltwater and lumber and citrus all over again. Her head was foggy with his aroma. She almost didn't hear him as he continued, "I'm sorry. I know you didn't want to talk about it before, but I just thought –"

Bex kept her forehead pressed on his chest as she replied, "Snow took them."

Finnick didn't even breathe.

"I haven't seen them since."

"Happened to my mom too." He laid his chin on top of her hair. "My dad, though — he was a fisherman. A poor one. One day he went out for a boat ride and ... never came back. My mom raised me on her own until Snow decided her time was up."

Bex wet her lips anxiously. "I'm sorry."

The hand that had once been on her back was suddenly cupping her cheek, bringing her eyes up to meet his. Finnick searched her dark, black stare. He saw the trauma and pain in it, similar to his own. The same kind of trauma he saw Annie Cresta suffer from daily, except Bex knew how to keep it in. She knew how to play the part. But not right now, not with him.

"Promise me," he muttered, "you'll never allow Snow to rob you of love again."

Bex blinked, and without as much as thinking, she laid her hand on top of his on her cheek. Her brows knitted together. "He's already taken so much," she replied, "but that ends now."

As his thumb stroked her cheek, Bex suddenly realized how close their faces were, and Finnick hadn't stopped leaning in until he was inches from her mouth. The music faded away and all she could focus on was his hot breath fanning her face, making her cheeks heat up. They both swallowed the fear rising in their throats. Bex slipped her hand out of his grasp and hooked it around his neck, while he held onto her back once again. Her lips grazed his. Their bodies molded together, fitting perfectly.

But Finnick Odair could not be the last piece of the puzzle. He was just as damaged as she was, and this was the last thing they should be doing.

Her eyes lifted to his, and they drifted apart. It took almost a minute later for them to stand away from each other. Bex swallowed hard and approached the light switch in the living room. "Goodnight, Finnick," she muttered before every light burned out.

━━━━━━

A/N: WELL..............THAT WAS SOMETHING 😳😳 I'm not gonna make this easy. sorry guys. I don't have a kiss planned for QUITE some time lmao

also the lyrics to the district 7 wedding song were made up by me!