It had been days since Dahlia had last slept in a bed. She didn't even know how long, time was an abstract concept when you were locked underground in a prison cell. But even her thin Capitol mattress couldn't compare to the heavenly cloud she was lying on in her new shared room. Her pod was compact but comfortable, directly parallel to Finnick's. If she turned on her side, she could look across the gap between the two pods and watch his chest rise and fall evenly. He slept so peacefully each night, slipping off into blissful slumber as easily as breathing. On the other hand, Dahlia's body screamed for rest, but her mind would not shut off. Too lost in her own thoughts.

She was remembering the many faces of rebels she had been commanded to kill, wondering if they truly were guilty of the crimes she had executed them for or if she had slaughtered innocents on the orders of a corrupt President. The guilt gnawed away at her brain, until Dahlia was sure there was nothing left to plunder. Did she even deserve to live anymore after causing such pain and destruction? How could she live with herself knowing she had murdered so many who were more deserving of life than her?

So engrossed in her remorseful beliefs, she nearly missed the way Finnick's breathing had begun to grow uneven and laboured. He started to whimper in his sleep, muffled words slipping past his lips as he tossed and turned. Dahlia sat upright in her bed, eyebrows furrowed in concern at the sudden change in behaviour. She was hesitant to interfere, fearing that she would provoke anger by approaching him in this state. But then he began to thrash and wail in distress. She couldn't let him continue on like that.

Slipping from her own pod, she quickly padded across the cold floor over to Finnick's and timidly perched on the edge of his mattress. "Finnick." She whispered gently, attempting to wake him without startling or touching him. But his panic did not ease. Shuffling a tiny bit closer, she called his name more sharply this time, "Finnick." Still, he would not wake. Severely out of options, Dahlia's shaking hands tentatively made contact with Finnick's cheeks and began to smooth along his clammy skin. "Wake up, Finn. It's alright."

Finnick awoke to a soothing voice leading him out of the darkness of a nightmare and an angelic touch caressing his soul. He couldn't help but nuzzle into the soft hands skimming along his cheeks, his breathing becoming steady and calm. It wasn't until his eyes flickered open that he finally realised who had eased him from his night terrors.

"Lia." He gasped out weakly, forcing his body upright as Dahlia drew her hands back in. Blinking tiredly, Finnick raked a hand down his face and turned to her with an apologetic expression. "I'm so sorry."

The girl shook her head to dismiss his guilt-ridden apology, disguising her desire to place her hand back on his skin. "Are you..." She paused for a moment, wondering whether she should just return to her own bed and pretend to go back to sleep. But then she decided to take a big leap and stretch out a hand of kindness to a man she'd once yearned to kill. "Are you alright?"

Glancing up at her, a genuine smile appeared on Finnick's face at Dahlia's rehabilitation progress. He felt like he was starting to get her back, yet she still didn't know him. "I'm fine, Lia." He assured her, though Dahlia could easily see through his obvious lie. "Sorry for waking you."

"You didn't wake me." Dahlia corrected, making Finnick narrow his eyes in silent questioning. "My thoughts are too loud. They keep me awake these days." She admitted, oversimplifying the reason for her alertness at such an early hour. With a slight hint of amusement and laughter, she continued bashfully, "And-- It sounds silly but... the bed is too comfortable. I feel like I'm about to sink right through."

Finnick lightly chuckled along with her, but a strong sense of deja vu had struck him at those words. "You said the exact same thing when you first arrived in the Capitol." He confessed with a reminiscing grin, remembering how long it took her to get used to those large cushioned mattresses.

"Really?" Dahlia asked in interest, unknowingly shifting closer to Finnick as she grew eager to discover more about herself.

"Yeah, you complained for years." Finnick replied teasingly, a faint smirk forming on his lips at the memory. "I used to find you asleep on the couch because you refused to actually sleep in the bed."

Dahlia snickered in embarrassment at her past self before muttering, "Guess I'm just not used to luxury."

"No, you weren't. And you certainly made sure I didn't take anything for granted." Finnick informed her with a weary but pensive smile. "I was born into a life of comfort but you grew as a fighter. While I had everything handed to me on a silver platter, you fought for everything you had." He spoke with such admiration for her, as though he worshipped the ground she walked on. Dahlia had never known someone to care so much about her, to remember the smallest details of her personality and recite it to her like a heartfelt poem. "It's what drew me to you at first. You were so strong and brave when we met... But so vulnerable and broken at the same time. I knew, even back than, that you were absolutely terrified but you wouldn't go down without a fight. That's the same look I saw in your eyes when you arrived here. It reassured me that Dahlia, the real Dahlia, was still there, somewhere."

His voice was heavy with emotion, softened eyes gazing earnestly into hers. The sheer adoration dripping from each word that left his lips felt like a honeyed balm healing the scars that littered her skin and soul. For as long as she could remember, Dahlia had yearned for someone to be proud of her for all she had overcome, to just be satisfied with who she was instead of trying to change her. It turned out she'd had that person all along. Finnick Odair had always accepted her, even when she hadn't accepted herself.

Rendered almost breathless under Finnick's tender stare, Dahlia managed to gasp out a question that had been lingering on the tip of her tongue for days, "Who was I to you?"

A melancholic expression overshadowed Finnick's features as a weak smile tugged at the edge of his lips. "You were everything to me." He confessed sincerely, barely noticing the tear that was starting to slip down his cheek. Before she could stop herself, Dahlia's hand instinctively reached out to cup his cheek and brush away the tear with her thumb. Finnick placed his hand on top of hers, revelling in the feeling of holding her once more. With his eyes boring into her soul and his fingers dancing along her skin, he emotively declared, "You still are everything to me, even if you don't remember me as I remember you."

Dahlia's head drooped and her hand fell from his face. But Finnick didn't let her pull away from him completely. As she retreated back into herself, he caught her hand and held it tightly, ensuring she couldn't withdraw any further from him. He expected her to completely reject his touch and flinch away from any intimacy. But she didn't. Dahlia seemed to melt into him, gripping to his hand like it was her lifeline. Then she lifted her head with watery eyes to reach his concerned stare.

"I'm sorry..." She mumbled sorrowfully, feeling disappointed in herself for falling victim to manipulation. "I'm sorry that I don't know who I am anymore. I wish I could remember more-- I'm trying so hard, but... I don't know what's real and what's not."

Her sentence trailed off as a sob wracked her body and Finnick pulled her forward into his arms. Dahlia immediately buried her face into his chest, fingers gripping desperately to his shirt as he tugged her impossibly closer. Finnick whispered soothing words into her ear while encouraging her to release all the emotions she had been holding in for so long.

She was still sniffling loudly when Finnick spoke up with a hushed tone, "After you won your Games, you told me you didn't know who you were anymore. I told you we'd find out together. And we did." Dahlia's tear-stained face reluctantly peeped out from where she had hidden herself to look up at Finnick with a trusting gaze. He never once glanced away from her as he continued, "We'll do it again. Together. I promise. And if you ever need to know if a memory is real or not, ask me. Because I know who you are, Dahlia Blossom. And I will remind you of your strength until the day I die."

Dahlia couldn't comprehend how Finnick maintained his faith in her after all that she had done. He still managed to look at her like she'd hung the moon and stars in the night sky, yet he was the one who shone brighter than the sun. The confusion was evident in both her face and voice as she weakly asked, "How can you even stand to look at me after all the hell I've brought down on Panem? What could you possibly see in me that would make me worth this much trouble?"

"I see everything you don't." Finnick answered without hesitation, letting Dahlia's head rest on his shoulder as they gazed at each other. "Do you know what I saw in my dream before you woke me up?" She didn't answer but she could feel Finnick's heartbeat speed up under her hand. Whatever it was, it had rattled his nerves. "I dreamed that I lost you forever. And I realised that I can't live in a world where you don't exist." He murmured lowly, as if the mere thought of living without her caused his heart to clench in pain. "So I'm on your side no matter what. I don't care about the terrible things they made you do. I don't care about a past that cannot be changed. I care about you."

Dahlia's eyes well up again at the passion Finnick displayed for her. A passion that she had never experienced before. A passion that made her realise that she had found solace in his arms. The Madame's voice had been haunting her ever since she left the Capitol, the faces of her victims permanently tattooed on the back of her eyes. But with Finnick, her mind went silent and her suffering victims were laid to rest. Heaven wasn't just the feeling of lying on a cloud-like mattress. Heaven was the space between Finnick's arms, a space where Dahlia fit perfectly.

"You feel more like home than anywhere I've ever been." Dahlia whispered fondly, finding herself becoming enamoured with the man who she once despised more than anything. Now she wondered how she had ever lived without him. "Thank you, Finn."

Finnick grinned softly and replied, "I'm still rooting for you, Blossom." The words he'd once said to her before her first Games. The words he didn't expect her to remember. But then again, Dahlia was always full of surprises.

"Thanks for the words of encouragement, Odair." She had responded instinctively without truly realising the sentiment behind the statement at first. But as Finnick's eyes widened in shock, she realised that those words weren't just a familiar phrase. They'd been spoken before, and she remembered. "We met before the parade... Real or not?"

"Real."

She remembered.