A/N: You should really listen to this song. It's so ridiculously good!
ANYWAY.
Rated T for mentions of suicide..

I do not own the Hunger Games!


She lives alone in that house they once shared.

Her son has long moved out.

It's for the best, she thinks. They older he got the more of a ghost he became.

It was never his fault, and she knew that.

It was never her fault either, and he knew that.

They barely talk anymore.

She doesn't blame him; he's 19 now.

He's young, wild, and beautiful—just like his father was. He lives in a world unlike theirs; he lives in the world his father died to create.

She doesn't talk to anyone any more, really. There's an occasional phone call from Johanna—which she never answers; they both lost him, and he was the only connection they ever really had—or Katniss and/or Peeta, but their happiness makes her want to cry. Everything makes her want to cry.

Instead, she sits at the window of the old house they once shared. She stares out into the sea. Sometimes, she sees his boat.

It's gleaming; pristine white, unstained by the brine of sea water—just the way he left it.

She blinks her eyes, and it's gone. He's gone.


She becomes somewhat of a legend around District 4. Zale Odair tries to ignore the stories of his crazy mother; but sometimes it's too much for him to bear.

Once, he overhears a man about ten years his senior talking about her. He says she's a ghost haunting that old lighthouse of a home, constantly searching for her lover who will never return. He doesn't know Zale is there, so he doesn't know to watch what he says. He continues to talk about "Old, mad Annie Odair," telling fabricated stories about her to the rest of his drinking buddies.

"I can't blame that Finnick, really. I'd die, too, if I'd have to spend a lifetime with that coot," he bellows with laughter.

Before his buddies can join in on the laughter, Zale throws him an uppercut to the jaw.

He never tells his mother.


The 20th anniversary of the rebellion comes around, and she refuses to take part in the celebration. Instead, she goes to the attic of her house.

She's heard the rumors and jests about her. She knows they think she's completely mad, and maybe she is. She's not sure.

She's always thought of their house as a lighthouse, long before the townspeople started calling it that. It makes her smile that someone else finally sees it.

She reaches into the desk, the one she made Johanna move up here years ago; the one Johanna had built for Finnick; the one only he had touched.

Inside, there's a journal. It's leather bound and hand-embroidered with the Odair family crest. Annie never used it, even though Finnick had given it to her almost 25 years ago.

But today, she opens it. On the first page, she scrawls out two letters.

One to Zale. One to Katniss and Peeta.

When she's finished, she thinks she should leave one for Johanna too; but she decides Johanna wouldn't care either way, and she's so tired. So terribly tired.

She doesn't write Johanna a letter, but she does leave her something.


The celebration lasts fourteen days; with a fair in each district—including the new Capitol—open to citizens from any origin.

On day four, Katniss and Peeta knock on the door of the famous haunted Odair lighthouse. After ten minutes, they try the latch. It's unlocked, so they walk in.

They're greeted by complete silence. They call out for Annie, but she doesn't respond.

They walk back outside, but Katniss realizes she left her cell phone inside. She hates that thing, but she likes to be able to check on the children at all times, especially since she left them with Haymitch of all people. Surprisingly, Katniss is a loving, doting mother—something she never thought she'd be.

Upon turning back to face the house, Katniss notices that the only light on in the house is the one in the attic.

"I'm afraid of the attic, Katniss. He haunts it. Worse than he does my dreams."

She takes off, sprinting for that room.

She turns the door knob and it's all she can do to stop from breaking down right there, but Peeta is there with her—holding her together, like always.


Annie's funeral is five days later. Haymitch, Johanna, and even Gale came from their various Districts. Katniss and Peeta never left. Hazelle ended up watching their son and daughter for them; they hadn't seen death yet, and Katniss and Peeta were determined to prevent that as long as possible.

Zale is stoic.

He's not surprised by any means. He's actually very proud of her; proud that she managed to make it 20 years without doing this sooner.

It's open casket. She dons a turtle neck to hide the ligature marks—she hung herself with the very same rope Finnick frequently tied knots with in 13. She was beautiful.

No tears were shed at her funeral; for no one was sad that she died. They'd miss her, of course; everyone loved Annie, but no one was sad. They were happy for her; happy she'd finally be reunited with her love.

Johanna looked angry. Gale noticed.

"Mad she beat you to him, eh?"

She didn't reply, but they all knew he was right. Not that it would have made a difference; even in death Finnick would only be with Annie.

That being true, Johanna had always wondered if they had ever had a chance. She thinks that maybe, it Annie hadn't won, they would have. They were, after all, dating for two years before Finnick even met Annie.

Johanna doesn't blame Finnick for it. He didn't know Johanna loved him. He thought it was casual; thought she'd never really settle down. She never told him otherwise. She hid it well, but really she was a coward.

She doesn't know if Annie ever knew either, but something tells her she did.


That evening, Zale brings himself to the house. He walks past the photos of the father he never met and the mother he just lost. He sees the portrait of himself and his mother hanging next to one of his father at his same age. They could pass as twins. He never really realized it until now. Their hair is exactly the same hue and cut.

He shaves it off, right then.

"I'm not your ghost anymore."

He walks to the attic, curious as to what finally drove her to the edge.

He stops short when he sees the journal.

"Mommy, what's this?"

"Zale! Don't touch that! Don't touch anything in the attic! Never do that again, Ok?"

"Why, mommy? What is it?"

"Your father gave it to me."

It's already open, so he reads the writing.

Zale,

I love you, baby. Never forget that. I promised him I'd be here for you. I promised I would pull myself together to raise you, even if he never came back.

I did my best to give you everything I could.

I know it wasn't enough, but I did my best.

You were my only success, my darling son.

Know that I love you. Always and forever.

If you ever miss me, look out to the horizon. Your father and I will be there, eternally floating just at the edge of the sea. We'll never leave you.

He turns the page and sees the next letter is written to Katniss and Peeta. He doesn't read it.

He'll give them the letter the next morning.

For now, his eyes settle on the photo on top of the desk. It's dated 27 years ago, and he recognizes the man and woman—but it's not who he'd expected.

He gives the photo to Johanna that night, after finding her sobbing at his father's grave.

He understands now, why she was so distant to his mother the older he became.

He not only haunted his mother, but aunt Johanna too.


At first, Johanna fears that Annie just found out about her and Finnick. She nearly drinks herself into oblivion, attempting to flee the guilt.

Haymitch is the one who snaps her out of it.

"Hate to break it to ya, but you suck at hiding things. She found out when he died, hun."

She doesn't know if that makes her feel better or worse, so she just continues crying.

It takes her a few days, but she eventually comes to realize why Annie left the picture on the desk; the very desk Johanna built for the man she loved.

Under the tears and the pain and the sorrow, but above the smiles of their photographed faces, it's as if Annie left an unwritten message:

He loved you, too.

She goes to sleep easy that night, for the first time in 20 years.


Zale brings Katniss and Peeta the letter Annie left them. Katniss accepts it with tears in her eyes.

"She was so strong, Zale. So strong, you know."

"I know," he said before leaving without as much as a wave goodbye.

Peeta, once again, is there to hold her as she breaks down. She refuses to read the letter; makes Peeta read it aloud.

"Katniss and Peeta," he begins; his voice unsteady.

I heard her scream for him when they tortured her; I heard her cries for him when he died. He doesn't hear her speaking voice when he reads the letter, but only her shrieks in terror and agony.

"Live. Live for each other, live for your children. Enjoy this new world, don't let past ghosts haunt you. I'm at home now, swimming in the sea with Finn. We'll keep an eye on you."

His voices cracks as he stifles tears, but one slides down his cheek any way.

"I'll tell Prim you love her, Katniss. I promise. Your dad, too. I'm sure he'll tell me how proud he is of you. And Peeta, same goes for your dad and brothers. I know they miss you two. I'll miss you two, too," he actually lets out a small cry as he cries for a moment that time.

"Finnick won't believe me when I tell him you two have children! When I tell him about Linnea and Colby, he'll go crazy. You two have been wonderful parents so far, but the teenage years will be the worst."

He doesn't actually read the last line she wrote.

"I've got the go now. My time is come."

Instead he says, "I love you both, don't forget that," and throws the letter away.

Katniss cries herself to sleep that night. Peeta stays awake; tormented by the symphony of Annie's screams—hoping that she's finally happy again.


Years later, Zale marries and has children of his own.

They move into the lighthouse.

He never goes into the attic; Shellaine, his wife, never asks why.

One rainy day, though, he ventures up the rickety stairs and sits at the window sill as his mother had.

He feels as though they are there with him. He can hear their laughter—well, what he imagines to be their laughter. He never heard his father's true laugh and it's been so long since he heard his mother's, he can't even remember.

He stays in there for hours. He feels the ghost of his father truly leaving him for the first time. He feels free; even freer than when he began shaving his head to rid himself of that one similarity they shared. Back then, it had been out of bitterness, but now it's out of proudness.

He's proud of his mother and his father, and most importantly—himself.

When he comes in that room, the three of them haunt it together. They all become ghosts, transported into some strange dimension wherein they can co-mingle.

He is no longer a ghost of the legendary Finnick Odair, or the tragic son of mad Annie Odair; he is now only himself.

He is Zale Odair. Zale, after all, means "sea-strength," and he is a 100% embodiment of the strength of the sea. The strength of the sea drew his parents together, the strength of the sea kept them tethered together through death, and now the strength of the sea brings them all together—all he has to do is gaze out the lighthouse.