The struggle in separating the Black Dahlia from Dahlia Blossom was that there were many occasions when the two overlapped. Dahlia had survived the Games and her trips to the Capitol because of the character she portrayed, but there were elements of her own self in there as well. So intricately embedded in her soul was the Black Dahlia, that the Madame had easily managed to manipulate her into believing that this was who she had always been. Now that she knew otherwise, where did the Black Dahlia end and Dahlia Blossom begin?

Learning more about herself felt like hearing tales of someone else's story or trying to remember details of a past life. With no memories of her own to back up what they had told her, it was difficult to make that connection. It was confusing and frustrating, like words on the tip of her tongue. It felt familiar yet so foreign, a life that wasn't her own.

Finnick was forced to watch from a distance as she argued with herself, battling between what felt right and what felt safe. It would've been easier for her to just disappear into the role she'd been told to play, to dismiss the difficult truth in favour of what she thought she knew. But his Dahlia wasn't like that. She was a fighter, she would fight for the truth. And, even if she didn't want him there, he would be right behind her supporting her all the way.

Haymitch visited her more over the next few days, feeling more confident that her rehabilitation was improving with each small breakthrough they made. One day he entered the cell to find her alert and responsive. She had been waiting for him to arrive. He headed for the chair that had become his usual perch for their conversations and went to greet her as he always did, but she interrupted him before he could open his mouth.

"Lavender." She blurted out in a dream-like state, making Haymitch pause as he reached the chair. "Does that mean something to me?"

Sighing to himself, Haymitch lowered into the chair and replied, "Lavender was the name of one of your sisters."

Dahlia nearly scoffed at that. My sisters, she repeated in her head. She was still getting used to the fact that she had a family. It felt strange to call something her own. In the Capitol, everything she had was courtesy of the President's good will. She didn't own anything, not even herself. To say that something was hers felt odd.

"What was she like?" Dahlia asked timidly, feeling guilty for being curious about who she truly was and what her family was like. The Capitol should've been her family, but it felt like more of a burden.

"Uhh, I didn't know her very well myself." Haymitch confessed apologetically, knowing he didn't have much he could tell her. He wished Alaric were there instead. He knew the girls better, he'd know what to say. "But you volunteered for her in the Games, umm... She told you to win..." He scrambled to think of anything else he remembered about the Blossom girl from what Alaric had told him. Then a chuckle parted his lips as a particular memory sprung to mind. "I do remember one story about her, where she used to sleep with her mouth wide open and one night--"

"--I convinced her that a bug had crawled into her mouth while she was sleeping." Dahlia finished, eyes glazed over as if she was reliving the moment in her mind. A gentle rumble of laughter escaped her throat while Haymitch stared at her in shock. With subtle prompting, she was starting to remember details all on her own. "She cried for hours and insisted on sleeping with the covers pulled up over her mouth." A melancholic smile settled on her face but her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to uncover more memories. "What happened to her?"

Haymitch's face fell at the question he knew she would inevitably have to ask at some point. He hated that he had to be the one to tell her. "She was reaped in one of the later Games." He admitted downheartedly, head hung low as he stared down at his clasped hands. "She fought hard but..."

"She's dead." Dahlia concluded with a cold tone and impassive expression. Fearing an angered outburst from the girl, Haymitch nodded his head slowly in confirmation. But the raging reaction didn't come. "And so is the rest of my family."

"How'd you gather that?" Haymitch asked, leaning back in his chair with an inquisitive gaze.

"Either they're dead, or they don't care enough to visit me." Dahlia answered stiffly, the harshness in her voice nearly making Haymitch recoil. She had so much self-loathing built up inside her, no doubt fuelled and encouraged by the Capitol's treatment. If you get told you're a monster enough times, eventually you start to believe it. And as Dahlia's eyes flickered up to meet Haymitch, he could see the lasting effect their manipulation would have. She didn't think anyone could love her for who she is, she didn't think they'd love her enough to witness what she'd become. "So which is it? Dead or disinterested?"

Reluctantly, Haymitch muttered a meek reply, "Dead."

Nodding her understanding, Dahlia didn't know whether to feel discouraged or relieved, because at least they couldn't be afraid of her anymore. "Am I the reason they're dead?" She then asked, fearing that she already knew the answer.

"No." Haymitch announced firmly, surprising Dahlia who'd been expecting to find out that they'd died because of her. But Haymitch sounded adamant and even held his ground when Dahlia seemed unconvinced. "Snow is the reason they're dead. Not you. Nothing that has happened was your fault, you hear me?"

Dahlia immediately shook her head in disagreement and protested, "The things I've done--"

"You were not in control of your own mind." Haymitch cut her off quickly. Then, noticing her doubtful expression, he leaned forward and stared at her with sincere eyes. "You were a victim, Dahlia. And you didn't deserve any of that."

A victim... No one had ever said that to her before. And if they had, she certainly hadn't believed them. Because all she'd been told was that she was a monster, a heartless killer, someone who didn't deserve any sympathy. But here was someone telling her the complete opposite. And she knew he was telling the truth.

"Thank you, Haymitch." She murmured gratefully, feeling her eyes well up with tears at the acknowledgement of all she had gone through. And those tears were the first ones she had shed that were not caused by pain. "Will you stay with me a while?" She asked timidly, yearning for escape because the voices in her head grew louder when she was alone.

Haymitch nodded with a genuine smile and replied, "Of course... Flower."

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

"No."

"Madam President, please--"

"I will not have a Capitol assassin roaming freely around District Thirteen." President Coin declared firmly, staring sternly at Haymitch as he stood before her. "The risk is too high."

"With all due respect, Madam President, I believe you're wrong." Haymitch retorted calmly, standing his ground even as President Coin drew back in offence. "Have you actually been in to see her since she arrived?" The woman didn't reply, because they both knew she'd steered well clear of anything to do with Dahlia. "Well, I have. And she's not the same girl she was in the Capitol."

"That may be true," President Coin stated softly, speaking like a true politician. "But we have no way of guaranteeing that. What if she is triggered by something and goes on a killing spree in the corridors? What if someone provokes her and she decides to put a knife to their throat? She is too unpredictable and I'm not willing to put my people in danger until I am sure she is no longer a threat."

As President Coin pushed back from the chair and marched round the table with the intention of leaving the room, Haymitch was quick to intercept her path. "In your eyes, she will always be a threat." He argued in frustration, waving his hands around as he felt his irritation grow. "That's why you didn't want her rescued from the arena. That's why you left her behind. But what happened when we left her behind? The Capitol got their hands on her and all hell broke loose. But imagine if you had her on your side..."

"She could turn on us." President Coin pointed out, but Haymitch could tell she was beginning to imagine the possibilities of having the Black Dahlia fighting for her.

"Or she could turn the tide of the war." Haymitch countered passionately, staring pleadingly at the woman who held all the power.

With a heavy sigh and a shake of her head, Coin quietly asked, "How could we even trust her?"

"It's not about trust." Haymitch answered slyly, sensing that he'd managed to win the President over. "It's about staying alive. And no one is better at fighting and surviving than her. She's worth whatever chaos she brings to the table, and you know it." Coin purser her lips as she mulled the idea over in her head, weighing up the pros and cons of unleashing such a notorious killer into her district. Noticing her conflict, Haymitch scathingly added, "You're the one who chose to abandon her. Surely she deserves the chance that you promised her once before."

Exhaling in defeat, Coin relented to Haymitch's suggestions, "Fine." And the former District Twelve mentor beamed in triumph and pride. He was finally fulfilling his promise to Alaric. But before he could celebrate too much, Coin jumped in with some demands of her own, "But I want her monitored at all times. She should not be left alone for even a second."

"Yes, ma'am." Haymitch agreed dismissively, not caring what had to be done in order to get Alaric's girl out of that prison cell. "Whatever you say."

"And we'll need to find someone who's willing to share their room with her," Coin added on with an irritated scowl. "Which I'm sure will be difficult. I can't imagine anyone would want to bunk in with--"

But an eager volunteer was already stepping forward, "I'll do it."

Haymitch whipped around to face the intruder while Coin stepped around him with a stern glower. "Mr Odair," She practically hissed through her teeth. "This is a private discussion."

"Not when the topic of that discussion is my Dahlia." Finnick replied smoothly, prowling deeper into the room, his expression unwavering and determined. He was not leaving that room without guaranteeing Dahlia's freedom. She wasn't there to plead her own case, so he was there to ensure her voice was heard. "She'll stay with me. I have a room to myself, there's plenty of space and I'll make sure she's safe."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea." President Coin remarked with feigned concern, glancing at Haymitch for backup only to find him siding with Finnick. "We are talking about the woman who nearly killed you the first time she saw you."

"She stays with me." Finnick demanded sternly, leaving little room for any arguments against it. "You've kept her from me long enough. I want her back."

Coin scoffed at the boy's stubborn insistence and challenged his devotion, "And what if she snaps and reverts back to her Black Dahlia ways?"

"If she kills me, so be it. At least I'll die at the hands of the woman I love." Finnick declared passionately, every word dripping with undeniable truth. "And whether she knows it or not, she needs me... and I need her."

Haymitch turned to the President and reasoned, "Finnick knows her better than anyone. I've done all I can to help her remember, but there are some questions I can't answer. Finnick can answer them." To emphasise his point, Haymitch pointed over his shoulder at the boy who stood with his arms folded behind his back. This position perfectly disguised the way his fingers smoothed along the ridges of the golden dahlia pendant clutched in his hand. His source of strength to keep fighting. "He is the only one who can help her now."

President Coin once again found herself backed into a corner by a Victor with demands. Eyes flitting back and forth between the two hopeful men, she had little choice but to agree with the arrangement. "Fine," She gave in unwillingly, satisfying their requests with a wave of her hand. "But she is your responsibility. If something goes wrong, I will hold you two liable."

"That's fine with us, Madam President. Thank you." Haymitch replied gratefully, dismissing himself and Finnick with an awkward and unnecessary bow as they back out of the room. Once the two were out of earshot in the safety of the corridor, they allowed triumphant smirks to decorate their lips. "Not bad, eh?"

"Not bad at all." Finnick echoed, discreetly bumping fists with the other man as they sauntered down the hallway. "Great plan, Haymitch."

"Thanks. It was a particularly impressive stroke of genius." Haymitch boasted, puffing his chest out in pride as he practically skipped along with a jaunt in his step. "But you were very persuasive as well. 'If I die, so be it'. Very good, very dramatic. I totally bought it."

After chuckling lightly at Haymitch's teasing, Finnick brought them both to a stop and turned to the man with a sincere expression. "I'm serious, Haymitch." He murmured earnestly, clapping his hand on Haymitch's shoulder in appreciation and respect. "Thank you."

"Well... It's the least I could do." Haymitch muttered bashfully, feeling a twinge of disappointment that he couldn't have done more to live up to Alaric's legacy. "She doesn't deserve any of the shit she's been through. I hope with you, she can finally find some peace. And I hope you find the same with her."

But Finnick and Dahlia would never find peace so long as they were in the hands of people who sought to exploit them for their skills. For President Coin had been forming plans of her own for the Victors in her possession. The Mockingjay and the Golden Boy were symbols of peace, freedom fighters, images of hope. But it takes a monster to destroy a monster. And that's why the Rebellion needed the Black Dahlia.