By the North Star | An Odesta Fanfic

Chapter Three

The mentor's viewing room was dark and nearly empty when Finnick stopped by. It had been slowly clearing out all week as more tributes fell and their mentors headed back home. Now there were only two chairs still filled, and a heavy silence hung over the room. The only light came from the screens that streamed live footage of the surviving tributes, and Finnick slipped inside unnoticed.

District 7's mentor sat at his desk, his attention concentrated on his tribute as she crept through the arena. On the other side of the room, another figure sat alone, slumped over his desk with his head buried in his hands. Finnick approached him slowly, keeping his distance and trying not to startle him.

"Bay?"

Bay lifted his head. For a moment, it hardly seemed as if he recognized Finnick's face in front of him. There was a faraway look in his eyes, full of a deep and distant pain. But then he blinked, and the man that Finnick knew was back.

"Finnick?" he said, sitting up. "I didn't know you were coming –"

"I just wanted to stop by," said Finnick. "I was up at the apartment and I thought I should come check on you."

Really, Finnick had had a rough couple of nights and had been looking for some comfort of his own. But one look at Bay and suddenly Finnick was more concerned about him than about himself.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Bay frowned and turned back to the screens. "As well as I can be," he murmured. "With all of this going on."

Finnick nodded. There was no easy way to find peace while the games were in session, especially not with a tribute still left alive. He knew that almost as well as Bay did.

"Do you want to sit down?" Bay asked. He moved over so that Finnick could sit in his own empty chair, but Finnick shook his head.

"I can't stay. There's a party at the Rosehills' and I'm supposed to be there. They think the games are going to be over by the end of the night."

Bay just nodded and hardly seemed to be listening. Finnick followed his gaze up to the screens at the front of the room. Malia, the district 4 tribute, had hidden herself somewhere in the arena's maze of boulders. She was looking pale and exhausted, having gone too many days without enough food and too many nights with nothing but restless sleep. But she was alive, nonetheless, and only one other tribute stood between her and the end of the games.

"This one's going to come home, Finnick. I know it." Bay's voice shook. "She has to."

Finnick glanced back down at Bay. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and weighed down with worry. These days, Finnick was so busy with clients that he hardly ever made it back to the apartment. He hadn't stopped to wonder how Bay was holding up, or notice just how much of a toll these games were taking on him. Finnick put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's going to be alright, Bay."

In a world like this one, those words meant nothing. There would always be more games, more tributes to train, and more clients waiting. But maybe, for now, it was enough that Finnick was standing there beside him. Bay gave him a sad smile, and Finnick returned it.

If he had any choice in the matter, Finnick would have stayed there with Bay. He preferred the tense anticipation of the Mentor's Room to the flurry of excitement that was awaiting him at the Rosehills' party. But he had no choice. There were invitations to accept and old clients waiting to see him there, so Finnick bid goodbye to Bay and went on his way.

The penthouse was buzzing with activity from the moment he arrived, a burst of bright colors and a blast of noise that threatened to leave Finnick with a headache after just a few minutes inside. The guests were chattering in excitement, eager to learn who their newest Victor would be. They had all been robbed of their finale the year before, and now the anticipation seemed twice as high as the games came to an end. Caesar Flickerman's voice rang out over all the rest of the noise, his commentary of the 71st annual Hunger Games streaming live on tv screens in every room.