Dahlia wasn't used to people fighting for her. She could only ever remember surviving on her own, struggling and suffering for everything she got. Every action had consequences and nothing ever came for free, that was what she had learned. And the Rebellion would be no different. From what she had experienced so far, it seemed she had been liberated from one prison cell and then thrown into another one. For an organisation claiming to fight for freedom and peace, she sure had seen a lot of captivity and violence. But then she was thrown a lifeline, a chance, from a man who was helping her to unlock her memories and the man she had been taught to despise.

Haymitch had bound into her cell with an unusual burst of enthusiasm, armed guards following behind him with their guns gripped tightly. "Come on, kid." He announced eagerly, throwing his arms out in excitement as the guards brushed past to reach Dahlia. "We're getting you out of here."

"What?" Dahlia spat out in confusion, eyeing the guards warily as they approached on either side and began to undo her restraints. "Why?"

"We had a chat with our great and glorious President." He replied with a hint of mockery in his voice, briefly displaying his true feelings for the woman in charge of the whole operation. "We vouched for your sanity and she has agreed to move you out of this bland, boring prison cell."

Dahlia assumed it was too good to be true. She waited for Haymitch to start laughing and reveal that it was all a big joke. Or perhaps he would explain that they were only moving her out of this cell to relocate her to a more secure facility. Because she was convinced no one would dare trust her. Even after all she did for them, the Capitol never trusted her. So why would the rebels?

But then her arms were freed... and her legs... and her head... And then she finally felt the freedom of movement flood her whole body after many long torturous days of being restrained. As she stood to her feet, still suspicious of the whole situation, her knees nearly buckled under the weight they hadn't had to carry in a while. Her limbs were numb and heavy, nearly forcing her to drag her feet along the floor to get them to move. And yet, Haymitch still didn't admit that he was kidding her on.

Instead, he led her along the corridors of District Thirteen with the guards trailing them as a safety precaution. He babbled continuously in her ear as they weaved through the twists and turns, Dahlia barely paying attention to a single word. She was too tense, shoulders hunched and eyes darting around madly, like she was searching for possible threats or preparing for a surprise attack. No such ambush ever took place.

They arrived at a hallway lined with doors, which Dahlia automatically assumed was District Thirteen's official prison block. She then believed all her previous assumptions had been correct. They weren't freeing her, they were just moving her from one cell to another. That's what she would be doing for the rest of her life.

Head hung in acceptance of what was to come, Dahlia waited to be confined to her fate once more. And then Haymitch slid the door open and she was met with a shock on the other side. It was a small area, big enough for two people to live comfortably, but it was far from what she'd come to expect in her accommodations. Two bedded pods for sleeping, a modest living area for everyday use, a door leading off to a connected bathroom. It was the height of luxury compared to her past living quarters.

Glancing up at Haymitch with a cynical stare, Dahlia sceptically questioned, "How did you swing this? Did you threaten someone?"

The man just chuckled at her doubts and shook his head. "No, Flower. No threatening." He assured her, motioning her inside with a wave of his arm. "Just a little bit of charm and the power of persuasion."

Dahlia sent him an unconvinced look out of the corner of her eye before she began to peruse the room. There weren't many possessions scattered around, but there was enough to suggest she would be sharing the space with another person. This didn't bother her. In fact, she would be glad for the company. She just hoped they didn't mind being in close proximity with a Capitol killer.

"You don't strike me as a charming person, Haymitch." Dahlia commented tauntingly, quirking a brow at the man to show her jesting attitude. "Did you charm someone into sharing a room with the dreaded Black Dahlia?"

Though her tone made it sound like she was still joking, Haymitch could detect a hint of anguish in her voice. Dahlia had been manipulated to think so little of herself and assume everyone else shared that view. Though her real self was starting to shine through once more, those ideals were still deeply ingrained in her mind. 

Pushing aside his sympathy, Haymitch retorted, "I never said I was the one doing the charming." Peeking out the door of the room, he spotted Finnick striding down the corridor towards them. Haymitch quickly straightened up and cleared his throat to catch Dahlia's wandering attention, explaining slyly, "And your roommate was more than eager to share his room with you."

Turning around at the giddiness in Haymitch's voice, Dahlia's face blanched at the figure lingering in the doorway. The last time she had seen that man, she was convinced he betrayed her. Now she didn't know what to think of him. She didn't know what to think at all. In the Capitol she'd been conditioned to follow orders, not to think for herself. Her mask was gone now and she felt exposed, vulnerable. She didn't like feeling that way. In a way, she wished she were back in the Capitol, so she didn't have to face the complicated nature of her own emotions. All her thoughts and feelings would've been decided for her.

Finnick Odair felt like he was meeting Dahlia Blossom for the first time. The doctors had warned him that her memories were jumbled, they cautioned against him getting too close to her, they feared she would kill him without hesitation. He ignored them all. He didn't care what happened to him anymore. He wanted her back. And he would give his life to see her smile at him the way she used to.

"Hi, Lia." He mumbled nervously, hesitantly stepping over the threshold into the room he's been suffering in alone. Dahlia's expression was impossible to read. Finnick used to know her better than he knew himself, now he wasn't sure whether she wanted to embrace him or kill him.

Haymitch's head snapped back and forth between the two with a delighted grin, as though he were watching the most interesting Capitol reality show. But Finnick and Dahlia didn't acknowledge the man (nor his enthusiasm) at all. Sensing he was not needed, he clapped his hands together and announced, "I'll leave you kids to catch up."

Then the door was shut and the two were left alone.

An uncomfortable silence was left in Haymitch's wake as Finnick tried to determine what Dahlia was feeling, while Dahlia herself was wondering the same thing. Her mind was conflicted. All her training was telling her to fulfil her mission and kill the man standing in front of her. The Madame's voice echoed in her ears; "Traitor!" it desperately attempted to remind her. But her instincts argued against it. Something inside her knew this man felt familiar, safe. Somehow she knew that Finnick Odair meant more to her.

"I-- Umm... Sorry about the mess." Finnick stuttered anxiously, moving about the room attempting to tidy up the already immaculate room as a way of distracting himself.

Kill the traitor, the Madame's voice whispered in her head.

"I didn't know they were releasing you today." Finnick reasoned, feeling Dahlia's piercing gaze follow him as he flitted about the place.

What are you waiting for, it hissed in her mind.

"Please make yourself at home." Finnick insisted, finally turning to face once more with a timid but welcoming smile.

Do it, her tormentor ordered.

But the Madame wasn't here. It was all in Dahlia's head. The Madame couldn't control her now. Dahlia was out of her reach. So with all the courage and strength she had left in her body, Dahlia pushed that voice aside. It was time to think for herself.

"Thank you." She murmured quietly with a grateful nod in Finnick's direction. Then she managed to remove her feet from the spot they'd been glued to since the boy's arrival and continued looking around the new living space she'd been assigned.

Finnick watched her wander through the room absentmindedly, a hopeful grin settling on his face. She hadn't rejected him. She hadn't lashed out. She hadn't killed him... yet.

His Dahlia always had been one for surprising people. It seemed that aspect hadn't changed. Once again she had defied expectations and refused to let people tell her what to do. That rebellious spirit was still there and so was the Dahlia he knew. She was freeing herself from the prison of her own mind. She was coming back to him.