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ANGEL ON FIRE
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THE AUDIENCE IS A wreck by the time it's Katniss' turn. Undone by the previous tributes' emotionally exaggerated speeches, they're barely able to hold themselves together enough to let her speak without getting interrupted by a wailing Capitol resident.

"So, Katniss," Caeser slips in before another person can start screaming, "obviously, this is a very emotional night for everyone. Is there anything you'd like to say?"

"Only that I'm so sorry you won't get to be at my wedding..." she says somberly, "but I'm glad you at least get to see me in my dress. Isn't it just... the most beautiful thing?"

Katniss begins to twirl. Ontari braces herself, because the last time she spun onstage, her dress caught fire. She's not that shocked to see flames licking the bottom again. She'd have thought that Cinna would have done something different this year. However, she changes her mind once the fire travels higher up the gown, leaving the fabric charred as the acrid scent of smoke wafts upward to the tribute stands.

Ontari turns to Cassian, mouthing, "Is that supposed happen?"

He shrugs, eyebrows drawn in as he watches her intently with his hazel eyes filled with confusion. By the time Ontari looks back at the girl, she's covered in a gray haze and the entirety of her beautiful white gown is now burned black. Katniss tentatively lowers her arms. Ontari leans forward, her mouth nearly dropping open in surprise at the sight of wings spreading out with her movements.

"Feathers," Caesar marvels in a small whisper as he examines the dress. "You're like a bird."

"A mockingjay, I think," Katniss says as she gives her wings a small flap. She, herself, appears mystified. "It's the bird on the pin I wear as a token."

A newer, more intense wave of nausea floods Ontari's stomach. Her eyes find Cinna in the crowd. He looks pleased with himself, nearly black eyes shining with pride, but there is no doubt that this obvious act of rebellion will not go unpunished.

"Well, hats off to your stylist." Caesar gestures for the man to stand up. Although he sees this as simply giving the man the recognition he deserves, he's only hammering more nails into the stylist's coffin. "I don't think anyone can argue that that's not the most spectacular thing we've ever seen in an interview. Cinna, I think you'd better take a bow!"

He does so modestly, though it takes the stunned audience a moment before breaking out into thunderous applause. Venus' expression is stormy; he does not join in with the clapping. He's deeply upset that his masterpiece has been so clearly outshone.

The buzzer is barely audible over the cheers from the crowd. Katniss resumes her place with the other tributes, seemingly still dazed by the incident. She clearly hadn't known it was going to combust into real flames like that.

Next, it's Peeta's turn. Ontari remembers from last year that he practically drips with charisma while onstage, and that's apparent as soon as he steps into the spotlight. He's able to crack jokes easily while under pressure from his predecessor's show. However, even as he smiles and laughs, it's clear that something else is on his mind, so Caesar swiftly changes the subject.

"So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you've been through, you found out about the Quell?"

"I was in shock," Peeta replies, which probably isn't a lie. "I mean, one minute I'm seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns and the next..."

Caesar picks up where he leaves off, voice gentle. "You realized there was never going to be a wedding."

Peeta pauses for a long, long moment. He glances at the audience, then the floor, and finally back up at Caesar. "Caesar, do you think all of our friends here can keep a secret?"

Ontari admits that it's a smart move, making the audience feel special and addressing them as friends even though this is being broadcast live all over the country. For such a quiet boy, he knows how to play the Capitol well.

"I feel quite certain of it," Caesar chuckles.

"We're already married," he says quietly, causing the crowd to gasp in astonishment. Even Cassian raises his eyebrows.

"But... how can that be?"

"Oh, it's not an official marriage. We didn't go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don't know what it's like in other districts. But there's this thing we do called toasting, where the two people make their first fire, toast bread, and share it. It's a big deal for us."

He has Caesar hooked. "Were your families there?"

"No," Peeta answers with a shake of his head. "We didn't tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss' mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn't be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it. And to us, we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us."

"So this was before the Quell?" Caesar questions.

"Of course before the Quell. I'm sure we'd never have done it after we knew." Peeta laces more anger in his voice, then tones it down with more of a distraught kind of energy. "But who could see it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere — I mean, who could anticipate a thing like that?"

Ontari presses her lips into a worried line. Tone it down, Baker Boy. If he gets too ahead of himself, he'll be spewing out something he'll regret. One thing she's learned over the years is how to reel in her emotions to keep them from seeing the light. If she's not acting charismatic or seductive, she's been trained to appear uninterested for that very reason.

"You couldn't, Peeta," Caesar says with a sympathetic pat on the boy's shoulder. "As you say, no one could've. But I have to confess, I'm glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together."

The crowd gives an enormous amount of applause. Katniss' face is plastered on the screens around the stadium, showcasing her teary smile of thanks to everyone. There's still smoke puffing from her dress and into her eyes. Ontari smirks at this fact. What part of their relationship is real?

"I'm not glad," Peeta admits, which calms the audience down immediately. "I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially."

Caesar, taken aback, exclaims, "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"

Peeta's voice is bitter. "Maybe I'd think that too, Caesar, if it weren't for the baby."

Last year, he'd outdone everyone before him by confessing his love for Katniss on live television, and this year, he's done it again. The bomb of his confession drops onto the entire auditorium and causes an immediate explosion. People begin wailing. Others scream words of rage, demanding for the Games to be canceled. Cassian begins chuckling from beside Ontari.

Though Caesar tries, he can't calm the crowd again, and when the buzzer sounds, Peeta leaves without any more conversation. He walks with his shoulders squared and chin high until he resumes his spot on the pedestal beside Katniss. Everything is chaos, the anthem blaring throughout the building in an attempt to quiet the screaming audience and establish some kind of order. Peeta clasps Katniss' hand. This starts a chain reaction. Soon enough, Cassian is reaching for hers, and they're all joining together as a single unit of victors.

Ontari's close-lipped smile is triumphant even as the stage lights go haywire before turning off completely.

-:-

On the eighth floor, Woof and Cecelia confront the siblings as soon as they show up in the elevator.

"What was that?" Woof questions. His thick eyebrows are drawn in so a crease protrudes between them, the lines around his mouth more apparent as he frowns.

"That little Baker Boy's a damn genius, that's what happened," Cassian replies as Ontari uses him to hold onto so she can remove her shoes. "Now nobody will support these Games."

"They still won't be called off," Cecelia says with a scowl. She's already dressed in a silver nightgown and satin slippers, brunette hair pinned up out of her pale face. As a mother herself, she's likely feeling the punch of this revelation, real or not "Not now. Snow will be too angry to do that. He's a spiteful, spiteful man."

"You're acting like I don't know that firsthand," Ontari says as she hooks the back of her heels on her fingers. The tile of the entrance hall is cold on her bare feet, sending shivers up her spine. "I'm changing before this outfit gets ruined."

Without another word, she turns and heads down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Due to the fact that Cabel is still out partying, there isn't a need for pretending anymore, but Ontari doesn't want to put on her nightgown just yet. Instead, she selects a pair of leather trousers and a navy blue button-down blouse from her wardrobe. She needs to wear actual clothes if she wants to walk around the Tribute Center later on.

She decides to keep the golden glitter and makeup on for now. It gives her a strange sense of happiness that she'd been presented as such an angelic figure, not the seductive character she's constantly being forced to play.

Ontari is just about to leave again when something on her nightstand catches her eye. It's a golden band, simple but likely expensive judging by the fact that there isn't a scratch on it. It's more than the families in District Eight could afford. There's a note beside it; she steps closer to the table so she can read the message scrawled across the piece of thick cardstock paper in black ink.

Show this to Katniss and Peeta in the arena and they'll trust you.

-PH

Plutarch Heavensbee. How had he gotten inside here? And had Cassian gotten a token as well?

Acting almost without thinking, Ontari spins around and walks quickly toward her door. She whisks it open before heading in the direction of her brother's room. However, before she can knock, it's opened from within, revealing a puzzled Cassian on the other side.

Ontari raises the ring. Cassian produces a pendant. The black strap of it hangs from his fingers, the gold pendant itself imprinted with tiny stripes that gleam in the light above their heads.

"Don't wear it yet," she instructs. "We can't have people asking questions."

He nods in understanding. Then, blowing a breath out of the corner of his mouth, he says, "This is it, huh? We're really doing this."

"Yes," Ontari confirms, though she doesn't feel as confident as she sounds. "We really are."

She spends a good majority of the night in the sitting room with Cassian and her mentors, enjoying one another's company and trying to distract each other from tomorrow's events. Woof and Cecelia do a fairly decent job at cracking jokes. They get Ontari to laugh a few times, but there's still a rock in her stomach that doesn't have to do with the Games— at least, not entirely. It's like she's only half-present in the room, mostly a living person but also a phantom watching things from afar.

Suddenly, her skin itches. She becomes incredibly uncomfortable with everything: her surroundings, the people she's with, the temperature in the room, how her emotions are battling for dominance inside of her. She grasps at her arms and hugs them to her chest before blurting, "I need to get out of here."

Cecelia turns to her with a concerned expression that only a mother can express. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, thank you," Ontari declines, already starting to get off of the sofa. She scrambles out of the room and toward the elevator without meeting her brother's questioning hazel eyes.

The ride down the elevator is suffocating. She clutches her head, ruffling her hair as she internally screams at herself, What is wrong? Why are you acting like this? What is wrong with you? The pit in her stomach won't go away. Instead, it seems to grow, threatening to swallow her and everything she is into its yawning mouth. Something tells her that it holds no bottom. If she falls into it, lets it absorb her, there will be no coming back from this eternal panic and utter feeling of wrongness.

"Stop it," she tells herself firmly as she knots her fingers into the roots of her hair. "Stop it!"

The elevator chimes, signaling she's reached the first floor. Her next stop is the lobby. She smooths her hair, lets out a breath, and schools her expression into neutrality just as the doors open.

A few mentors and staff stop to compliment her on how wonderful she looked in her interview and how gut-wrenching her short speech was. Another woman tells her how lucky she is for having Finnick to love her, which stops her completely in her tracks.

If one — or both — of us dies in that arena, at least all of Panem will know how we really felt about each other.

Ontari spins on her heel and storms back toward the elevator, not caring about the looks she gets as she bursts inside and jams her finger on the button labeled 4 so hard that a shock of pain travels up her hand. When the doors open again a short time later, the floor is silent and dark. It seems that everyone has retreated to their rooms for the night.

The layout of the floor is essentially the same as hers, except for the fact that the color scheme is different and there are some decorations that nod to their industry. Instead of the industrial grey that the eighth floor is painted with, the fourth floor is full of light blues and whites that remind her of the beach. The lack of lighting is slightly haunting, though, taking the airiness out of the decor. Shadows lurk everywhere that the city lights from outside don't touch. She relies mostly on muscle memory to get to the hallway and find room two.

Ontari knocks on the door to Finnick's room and waits for a response, rocking on her heels in an attempt to calm her racing nerves. The leather pants and blouse seem pointless now— what was she thinking? She should have changed into more comfortable clothes. She should have come here first.

A beat later, he opens the door. His sea-green eyes swim with confusion at the sight of her. "Ontari?"

She forces her voice not to shake. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," he responds instantly. Then, remembering he's in the way, he creaks the door open and steps aside. "Yeah, of course."

Ontari steps into his room tentatively. The District Four bedrooms are colored a dark blue, as deep as the sea, and are decorated with gold accents that make it appear like the inside of an old cruise ship. The layout is almost identical to hers, with a floor-to-ceiling window covering the entire back wall that provides a view of the surrounding city. Only a bedside lamp is on; the rest of the dim lighting comes from the buildings outside, still alight with life despite the late hour.

It's funny, really. It should be cracking her up how she's considered one of the most desirable victors, cool and confident, oozing seduction and taking a new man or woman into bed so often she's lost count of how many. A Capitol-spun heroine who never slips up. And yet she's rendered speechless by her almost-lover at the thought of telling him how she feels.

It's silent for a moment as Ontari gathers her wits. The atmosphere isn't awkward — it never is between them — but there's something there. A kind of tension that clutches at her chest until she feels almost breathless. She needs to get this out before the fear catches up to her.

"We've been playing the part for seven years," Ontari begins, earning a perplexed look in return. She forces herself to speak the next sentence that will fracture their bond indefinitely. "But, to be honest, I haven't been playing for a long time."

Finnick blinks. It seems to dawn on him what she's saying, and he opens his mouth to speak. "Do you mean—"

"Yes," she cuts him off before he can continue. It feels like razor blades are cutting up her insides; she can already feel their relationship beginning to break. "Yes, I do mean that. And I'm sorry if you don't feel the same, but I had to get that off my chest. I had to tell you in case something happens. I don't want to die with you not knowing the truth."

Ontari's eyes stay glued to the floor. She can't bear to look him in the eye. They've been such close friends for so long that nothing should faze her anymore, but waiting for heartbreak is too much anticipation for her to bear. She's almost ready to walk out if he doesn't say or do something first.

But a finger lifts her chin and her eyes raise to meet Finnick's. A small, gentle smile is lifting his lips, those dimples she loves so much carving into his tanned cheeks. Her heart feels ready to burst from so many feelings hitting her at once. He's going to let her down easily—

"I think we can come to an agreement not to pretend any longer," he says instead. "Would you like that?"

That's not what she'd been expecting at all. "What?"

"I'm saying that I was speaking the truth during my interview. We love each other. I... I'm in love with you, with everything about you." He swallows, causing her heart to constrict to an almost painful point. "I couldn't have lied about that if I tried."

His gaze drops to her mouth. There isn't much contact between them except his finger under her chin, and the lack of touch sets an impatient fire in her soul. She finds her breath turning shallow. Her heart barely beats in her chest as if it, too, is fearful of ruining the moment.

"Do it," she commands in a whisper.

Finnick's eyes lock onto hers for a brief moment. And then they're back on her lips and he's surging forward and cupping her face and the space between them is closed. It's not like their staged kisses— planned and forced. Instead, a light of passion sparks in the air as Ontari kisses him back with every ounce of her being. One of his arms encircles her back, pulling her even closer until she's flush against him. Her head has to tilt at a new angle to compensate for the change.

Finnick pulls away to her dismay, and she's about to yank him back when his head drops to her neck. His nose runs along the exposed skin on her collarbone. She winds a hand through his hair as his lips trace over it, slowly pressing open-mouthed kisses to her skin. A breathy sigh escapes her mouth, close to his ear as he gently bites the area. Her other hand roams the plains of his chest through his shirt.

"I - I want it off," she tells him breathlessly. Her stomach stirs with need— he knows what he's doing. But so does she.

Ontari impatiently tugs at the hem of his white t-shirt. Finnick obediently pulls back enough to yank the material over his head and discard it to the floor. She'd seen him shirtless during the opening ceremony and countless other times at his home, but now she gets to touch him, to feel the smooth skin she's wanted desperately to touch for what seems like forever. He's hers.

He's still staring at her like she put the sun in the sky; her heart burns with the fire of a thousand of them. "Beautiful."

Finnick pulls her toward him by the hips, purposely digging his fingers into her skin more than necessary. He lets her hands explore his chest, run down his torso.

"Isn't it ironic," he says quietly, breath fanning her face, "that we've supposedly been together all this time, and yet so many people have gotten father with us separately than we have with each other?"

Ontari grins. "I'm good with fixing that."

_____

ha ha ha... i actually have had that scene written for MONTHS, i just had to get there first.

i know it's a little hard for fanfics where the characters have been pining for years because it feels rushed, but i promise you it's not. this has been seven years of sexual & romantic tension in the making, y'all. and not much is going to be different between them except for the fact they know their affection is real.

honestly, josh hutcherson is such an underrated actor because when he said "if it weren't... if it weren't for the baby" in the movie i was SHOOK. his overall performance was incredible and i thought he deserved more recognition than jlaw tbh

-kristyn