꧁ chapter four ꧂
pain

GALA CLOSED THE BATHROOM DOOR, LOCKING IT BEHIND HER. At the sound of it clicking shut, she felt all the tension in her body fall away. There were no attentive or curious eyes here to follow her every move. Not President Snow's secretary, who had been watching her very closely since she had left the office. Gala had felt her gaze on the back of her neck all the way to the bathroom.

But here, in the bathroom, she didn't have to put on a brave face anymore, or rather, she didn't have to pretend that the visit to the president hadn't cost her her last ounce of strength, because it definitely had. First the bad sleep, then the stressful morning, now the tiring conversation, which by the way had come to a painful end... Gala was exhausted. Even more so than last night after her discussion with Finnick.

Now that the tension had disappeared - the need to suppress all her pain no longer existed in these four walls that were somewhat isolated from the rest of the world - she felt all those feelings return that she had forbidden to surface. It was long pent-up feelings and the new physical pain combined that made Gala unable to stop the tears from running down her face.

She wiped a tear off her cheek, then looked at herself in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, Gala opened her mouth, leaning forward to the mirror so she could inspect her lips and tongue closely.

Her tongue was red and swollen. Her lips looked thicker even through the gold lipstick, as if she had had them injected by her doctor, as cousin Megga often did, or her friend Elsie. It looked good on them, but Gala thought she looked anything but good at the moment.

It hurt to swallow. The swelling had to reach her throat, but it didn't look - and didn't feel - like she had a second- or third-degree burn, and that relieved her, if only a little.

Gala closed her mouth, cleared her throat, which felt terribly scratchy, and tried to say a few words.

"I- I have to go." she said to her own reflection, but her voice sounded so weak and low, and the words sounded so wrong. Her tongue felt heavy and accordingly she lisped slightly. Gala felt transported back to toddlerhood, when she couldn't express herself in a refined way and no one took her seriously.

Her first sob - oddly delayed for a woman with such painful feelings like her current - rose and died, unheard, although it had definitely not been a silent sob.

She was glad to be alone. She had stopped crying in front of others a long time ago. Showing weakness was not an option.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and landed in the sink. The sight displeased her. She looked pathetic.

Unable to bear the sight of her sobbing self any longer, she burried her face in her hands. Placing her palms over her mouth, she tried to muffle the sounds that uncontrollably left her mouth. Then she sank down onto the closed toilet lid.

She hated to cry. She hated the taste of her salty tears clinging to her lips. She hated the sound of her own sniffling.

Gala knew that she didn't really have time for a nervous breakdown right now. She knew better than anyone that time was short, that she couldn't lock herself in the bathroom forever. She had to calm down, she had to stop crying. She probably also had to put on new makeup. And she had to do it quickly; after all, Finnick, Roslin and her team were waiting for her outside in the car.

Gala inhaled, then counted "one" inwardly; she exhaled, then counted "two," and so on up to ten.

When she felt she'd calmed down, she got up and walked up to the bathroom mirror. The tears had left her eyes puffy and her mascara had started to run leaving black smudges here and there. Her gold lipstick had slowly faded away, leaving the gold glitter all over her face, and the salty tears had washed away her blush.

Gala wrinkled her nose before quickly washing off the remains of her makeup. Reaching into her bag, she dug out a pack of painkillers, as well as her makeup case. Swallowing the tablet was painful, but the effect would be worth it. Without the painkillers, she would never be able to bear up against the burn all day.

Replicating all of her makeup from this morning wouldn't be possible due to time constraints, so Gala limited herself to applying her eye makeup and lipstick, as well as tracing her eyebrows. But all the time-consuming contouring was omitted.

Satisfied with the result, Gala took a few more deep breaths, then left the small bathroom - left her little sanctuary behind.

—✺—

Gala had hardly opened the car door when Roslin pelted her with questions.

"Did the meeting really take that long? Is there any important news? What did the president say? He didn't happen to mention the brilliant outfit Finnick wore yesterday, did he?"

It was a rarity to hear so many words bubble out of Roslin's mouth at once without her sounding upset or angry. At the moment, she just sounded curious. Gala was glad about that, because it meant that she didn't have to argue with her, which she really didn't feel like doing right now.

Gala took her time buckling up and signaling to the driver with a nod that they were ready to go before mustering up a sensible response.

After clearing her throat, she said, "There is no important news. We merely drank tea together and the hour flew by. I didn't ask him, but i'm sure he liked it."

Gala had the impression Roslin wanted to question her further about her conversation with President Snow, however she didn't get to because Harma unintentionally interrupted her by asking, "Why do you sound so hoarse?"

Gala shrugged her shoulders. "It's possible I'll get sick. My throat feels a little itchy."

Harma held her nose, leaning away from Gala so as not to catch it from her. Roslin rolled her eyes, probably annoyed both by Harma's panic and by the fact that Gala had apparently fallen ill.

"Two hours ago, your voice sounded just fine," Finnick suddenly remarked.

"Maybe all that talking didn't do my voice any good. I guess I should rest my voice now, and maybe we could stop by the pharmacy on the way to the studio. Cough linctus might be helpful."

"What about our schedule? You've already wasted so much time that we shouldn't take any more detours," Roslin complained.

Gwin shook her head decisively, lifting an index finger into the air, wagging it dramatically. "But Roslin, that's no trouble at all for us to drive quickly past the pharmacy! Besides, Gala is the expert when it comes to time management, isn't she? And Gala, we still have time, don't we?"

"Yes, we do."

No, we don't, Gala thought. At least not if they followed the exact schedule, but she still had the whole night to get through and without more painkillers she wouldn't make it. Accordingly, the visit to the pharmacy was not optional, but mandatory.

Besides, they were already late anyway and a few more minutes wouldn't make a real difference. Today's schedule was thankfully not as full as other days. Gala was not worried. They would arrive on time at the party tonight, just as they had arrived on time for their appointments with President Snow, even if the day had not gone quite as smoothly as she had hoped.

"All right." grumbled Roslin, then shouted to the driver, "Drive to the nearest pharmacy! And hurry up! I can't stand this snail's pace."

Gala spent the rest of the car ride evaluating the ratings of yesterday's show. Apparently, viewers had missed Finnick's abs - towards the end, ratings were down, albeit only slightly. But according to polls of the guests in the studio itself, the teal blue shirt had still been a hit - the audience had liked the color. According to one young woman of 27, the color had complemented his bright eyes.

"There's the pharmacy!" Gwin informed her, just as she wrote a small note at the top of a report she would have to look at more closely later.

Gala put her appointment calender back in her bag and was about to close the car door behind her when Finnick announced, "I will accompany you. To the pharmacy, I mean. I should get some bug spray. The critters are pretty persistent this year."

He got ready to get out of the car, but Gala blocked his way. She forced herself to suppress a frown and smiled patiently instead.

"You're right. They are." she said slowly, even though it was a wonderful summer, there were hardly any mosquitoes or other pesky insects to get on your nerves, and Gala had no idea what the hell he was talking about. "I should probably buy a bottle of bug spray too. I'll make you an offer: I'll get two bottles, one for you and one for me. It'll be faster than if we both had to pay."

Finnick made a clicking sound with his tongue, shrugging apologetically. "I'm afraid that won't work. I'm allergic to quite a few different chemicals. I'd rather choose the right bottle myself, don't you think? Just to be on the safe side."

However, once again she did not let him pass. She didn't know why he insisted on accompanying her to the pharmacy, but she did know that she didn't want him there when she was buying strong painkillers.

"What are you allergic to, Finnick? I can read, you know. If you tell me, then I can just read through the ingredient list and make sure the bug spray doesn't contain any of the chemicals you're allergic to."

Finnick made a thoughtful face, considering her offer without actually considering it. "To a lot of stuff. Too much for you to remember."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes very much so, sweetheart."

Tilting her head, she scrutinized the victor in front of her. He did the same, neither of them averting their gaze from the other for a couple of seconds.

"What are you waiting for? Buy your damn cough lictus and bug spray! Get a move on! Jesus, we don't have all day," Roslin finally barked, sounding unnerved.

Gala had no choice but to give in. She turned her back to the car and strode ahead toward the pharmacy. He had caught up to her rather quickly. Meanwhile, she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

"That was a terrible lie. What did I tell you about lying to me?"

"I didn't lie to you. My intention was to convince the others."

"I see," she replied dryly. Raising an eyebrow, she continued, "Bug spray? Seriously?"

The corner of his mouth twitched into a lopsided smile. "The lie served its purpose. I think Harma and Gwin believed me. Roslin probably did, too. So what are you complaining about?"

"I am not complaining. I'm just saying that while creativity certainly plays a big part in lying, one shouldn't get carried away either," she explained, eyeing Finnick sceptically as he held the door to the pharmacy open for her. "You got lucky with your audience. Gwin and Harma are too gullible. They would never doubt you."

"Maybe." He shrugged his shoulders. "But at least I know my audience well enough to gauge what they'll believe and what they won't."

"And I don't?"

Behind the counter stood a purple-haired man with a crooked nose and an equally crooked smile. Finnick greeted him as politely as ever while Gala looked around the pharmacy, spotting a shelf of cough linctus and other cold remedies. It wasn't as if she needed any of these - she had a large enough supply of cough drops and syrups at home, and none of these cold remedies would help with her current pain, but she couldn't very well walk up to the counter and ask the shop assistant for strong drugs, all while Finnick watched her. So she needed an alibi, and she also needed time to think about how she was going to get the morphling.

"I don't believe you. And you tried to lie to me too, didn't you?"

Of course he had followed her. Of course he was now standing right next to her, watching a bottle of cough syrup while reading the package leaflet carefully. But Gala noticed every trace of the fake interest.

She did not even bother to lift one of the bottles or to read the different names of the medicine. It was of little interest to her when she had no intention of buying anything from this shelf anyway. Nevertheless, she fixed her gaze on a number of different bottles one after the other, simply to give the impression that she was lost in thought.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Let it go, sweetheart." After putting the one bottle he was inspecting back in its place, Finnick leaned against the shelf, which was quite risky considering it was filled with glass bottles. However, he was then again too well coordinated and not nearly clumsy enough for a accident of this kind to happen to him. "So, are we going to talk about why you sound as hoarse as a chain smoker?"

"No."

Finnick sighed deeply before adding, "Come on, sweetheart. I'm tired of the lies. Aren't you?"

"No." She sighed at least as deeply as he had. "And don't call me sweetheart. We've been through all this, Finnick. Lies are sometimes the best option you have. It's not pretty, but who says the truth is prettier?"

"No one. But I'd rather hear an ugly truth, rather than a pretty but obscure lie."

He was waiting for an answer, a reaction of any kind on her part, Gala knew that, but she remained silent.

What could she even say to that? It was great that he could face the truth so easily, but Gala simply failed to do so. She didn't want to be urged by him - he had no right to urge her to do anything.

He knew that as well as she did - which is why he was becoming increasingly frustrated with her insistent stubbornness and silence.

"Gala, I just want to understand what happened. You come back, much later than usual. You've been in that office forever. And your voice sounds awful. Suddenly you're talking about having to go to the pharmacy because you're sick. But you're not sick, so what's going on?"

Gala pressed her lips together. She did not appreciate the way he spoke to her. Not because he was pushy - although he was - not because he meddled in things that were none of his business - although he did that too - but because of the concern Gala heard in his voice.

He had no right to be worried. Their relationship was hard to define - in a way they were work colleagues, but definitely not friends. She always tried hard to keep their relationship professional, and now Finnick took it upon himself to worry about her?

No, it wasn't allowed to be like that. They were colleagues and nothing more and it would stay that way. Had to. He was a Victor and she was a Trustee. Friendships between people in these positions were likely to end badly.

Gala had already been warned once today...

It sounds to me as if you want to spare your Victor from unpleasant questions. Is that your first priority? The well-being of your Victor and not that of the Capitol?

The memory snapped her out of her thoughts, giving her a dull, unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Can't you figure it out for yourself? And even if you can't, it's none of your business and I don't feel like talking about it," she then revealed to him, her gaze firm and her voice determined.

Finnick said nothing in reply, so they fell silent yet again.

Gala didn't want him here when she was about to buy morphling. She also didn't want him to find out what had happened in President Snow's office. She didn't want him to know too much about her private life... after all, it wasn't as if he was telling her about his private life. She didn't know what happened whenever he had a private conversation with the President - she didn't even want to know. She didn't know who he was close to because he always strove after keeping from her who and what was dear to him.

But then he expected her to unburden her heart to him? It didn't work like that.

Besides, she didn't need a confidant she couldn't confide in. And Finnick, she really couldn't confide in - his dislike of the Capitol and all its inhabitants was simply far too great.

Even the most mendacious - or the most intelligent and talented, however you put it - Victor could not hide his true feelings towards the Capitol from Gala. For she simply knew that they all disliked the Capitol. How could one experience what they had experienced and not be averse to the Capitol?

However, this also meant that Gala and every other citizen of the Capitol, no matter how hard they tried, could never truly befriend anyone from the Districts or any of the Victors, for that matter, because one party's aversion ensured that the other party could not build trust with the former, not because they didn't want to, but because it would be foolish to try.

In a system where one party was so severely disadvantaged and the other was so clearly privileged, the former would never be able to shed its hostility towards the latter, not when the majority of the latter took so much pleasure in abusing its privilege...

At some point, after another period of time spent looking at the shelf full of different bottles, completely lost in thought, Gala heard him murmur, "So, how much longer are we going to inspect the multitude of cough syrups? It's pretty clear you don't really want to buy any of them."

"What about your bug spray? Have you found one you're not allergic to?" she inquired with a slightly raised brow.

"No, unfortunately not." He sounded unassuming as he ran his hands through his hair. A few silky blond strands fell into his face, but he paid it no mind before giving her the faintest, palest of smiles while suggesting, "Just get whatever it is you really came here for."

He put his hands in the pockets of his fine but overly plain trousers - far too plain for the Capitol, far too fine for District Four. Nevertheless, it looked good on him, very good in fact, but that hardly surprised Gala, given that he was such a genetically blessed person. Everything looked good on him.

He nodded at her one last time, then turned on his heel and strode towards the door of the pharmacy. Casting a glance over his shoulder in her direction, he announced, "I'll wait for you in the car."

Gala watched him retreat until he was out of sight and the door slammed shut. After that, she did not hesitate for long. She stepped right up to the counter behind which the purple-haired pharmacist was standing. He quickly put his magazine aside and gave her a polite but comradely smile, as if they had known each other for years. He was obviously one of those instant-buddy-salesmen. One who was naturally friendly and warm, and who was convinced that people only did business with people they liked.

It was beyond question that he was successful with this buddy approach of his with most people, but Gala herself had always been a somewhat wary person. Above all, she tended to distrust people who wore the broadest grins on their lips and whose tongues spoke the most forged words. In short: salesmen - she did not trust salesmen. As nice as they might be; they always had their own ulterior motives and they didn't really want to be your buddy, they just wanted your money.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the purple-haired salesman asked enthusiastically.

"I need morphling, Darling. In tablet form, please."

There was no point in beating about the bush.

Out of the sudden his whole demeanour changed. His shoulders tensed, his smile slipped. "Oh, we don't have that here."

"Today is not the day to argue with me" She glanced at his name tag. "Dane. So do me a favour, Dane, and check the stock. I'm sure you'll find what I am looking for."

He grimaced. "I'm sorry, miss, but-"

Gala merely shook her head, unimpressed by his excuses.

It might not be legal to buy morphling from the pharmacy without your doctor's prescription, but that wouldn't stop Gala. It was difficult to get morphling because the drug was extremely addictive, and therefore a prescription was only given for extreme pain. However, there was nothing that money couldn't buy. And to put an end to her current pain, Gala would be willing to pay a lot of money.

But she wouldn't have to do that, because after all she had the chip.

The black coin-shaped chip with the silver engraving that was stashed in her purse.

She reached into her bag and fished out her purse, including the chip, which she languorously spinned between her fingers before placing it on the counter and sliding it in Dane's direction.

"You see, Dane, now you know what I'm looking for, don't you?"

His eyes got really huge, and his mouth fell open. Slowly, his head jerked up, and he stared at her, but then his chin came down again in a wary nod.

"Yes, miss, I'll be right back."

He hurried into a back room, probably the storage room, where a small box of morphling must have been hidden among numerous boxes of medicines.

Gala sighed as she put the chip back into her purse. The chip she had been given so that she could buy morphling without a doctor's prescription. She had only bought some for herself once before, although she put the chip to use almost weekly, just not for herself...

He returned with a small black paper box, which he handed to her only after he had made sure that the pharmacy was empty and no one could watch them.

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long." he stuttered.

"You were just doing their job. Don't worry."

He nodded in relief before turning to the cash register. "That would be one hundred and thirty-seven ninety-five."

"Keep the change, Dane. For the good service." Gala handed him three banknotes, enough money left over for a generous tip. "Do you have a water bottle or a glass of water for me? I would like to take a tablet right away."

And once again he scurried into the back room.

—✺—

I know I know... it's a pretty short chapter but it just wouldn't have made sense in terms of content to put the next scenes in this chapter... but don't worry, the next chapter will be a little longer....

Overall, I'm not really satisfied with the chapter... at least not with the second part, something just seems off, but no matter how many times I read through it... I never know what exactly I don't like.

You'll find out more about the chip later on in the story... so don't be surprised if you found the descriptions a bit cryptic.... That's how I intended it...

I hope you enjoy the dynamic between Gala and Finnick... because exploring their relationship is incredibly fun for me!

As you may have noticed, English is not my first language, but I do my best - so if I make grammatical mistakes, don't be too surprised and feel free to correct me and point them out....

Anyway, thanks for reading! Any comments are very much appreciated! I'd love some feedback. <3

love, farrah