Hello there! This is my first ever Hunger Games fanfiction...I really can't help myself when it comes to this pairing! I love Finnick and Annie so much, and I hope that you enjoy reading my take on their story. Please leave a review if you feel so inclined - I'd love to hear thoughts about the story and my writing! Thank you! :)

Chapter One

My first encounter with the famous Finnick Odair had not gone exactly as I had expected it to go.

I had been thirteen years old then, and my hair had been shorter, more wild. I could remember the whole thing as if it had just happened yesterday. I had been making my way through District Four's market, my eyes wide and my mouth watering at all the food that my greedy hands could not afford. It had been the first time I had visited the market alone, because usually I would go with my mother to help her carry things. On that day, however, my mother had been far too busy tending to my baby brother to be able to get food for us for the next week, so I had volunteered to go in her place. I thought I knew the market well enough to navigate it myself. Though I am sure my mother had quite a few reservations about letting me go alone, she relented and sent me off with enough coins to get what we needed.

Of course, the freedom of not having my meticulous mother's eyes on me while I strolled went to my head. I had totally put off buying the food I had been instructed to purchase to instead gaze lustfully at the luxuries my family could not afford. People tend to forget that while District Four is considered one of the wealthier districts in Panem, not all of its citizens are loaded with money. My eyes were stuck on a roll of lovely silk that was dyed sea foam green. I hadn't been able to resist, my small hand inching forward so my fingertips could brush across the fine fabric, to see if the stories of it feeling smoother than water were true.

A large, sweaty hand grabbed my wrist at that moment, and I had gasped, lurching backwards. In front of my face had been a rather large man with a wild, tangled beard and a scar across his left eye. His one good eye was dark and beady, and it stared at me, unblinking. "What do we have here?" he had growled, yanking me forward so the proximity between the two of us was almost uncomfortable. I could still smell how rank his breath was when I recalled this memory, like the smell of rotten fish. He leered at me, a smile creeping onto his face. His teeth had been a dull yellow. "Little young to be out on your own, aren't you, missy?"

"I'm thirteen," I had squeaked, trying to pull my skinny wrist out of his grasp, but he wasn't budging.

The man chuckled darkly. "Like I said, a little young to be out on your own." He released my wrist then, and I had been prepared to make a run for it, but then he leaned back and placed his hand on the roll of silk, his smile growing wider. "I'm assuming since you were so eager to grab this here fabric that you're interested in purchasing some of it."

My heart had pounded so loud in my chest that I was sure everyone in the market could hear it. "Oh no, sir, I just –"

"Then were you planning on stealing it, little girl?" He leaned forward again, though this time he had not been as close as he was previously. "They have rules about stealing, you know."

"I'm aware," I had stammered, taking a step back. "I wasn't stealing, though."

The man's smile turned sinister. "It's my word against a little girl's." I had known I was in a spot of trouble then. Stealing in District Four could easily be punishable by death, but that wasn't even the worst sentence the culprit could receive. Death was quick; torture was not. I had witnessed many public floggings in the square even at my young age, and the screams of those caught stealing before me rang in my ears. "So, girl," the man had continued, waggling his eyebrows. "I'll cut you a break, seeing as you are only – thirteen, did you say? How about you just give me all the money you have on you and I'll forget that you were going to steal from me, yeah?"

Tears had been stinging my eyes at this point. It wasn't fair, not even remotely, but there wasn't anything I could do. A lot of these people who worked at the market made a game out of conning people, and I had been aware at that moment that I was one of many victims. But no, my tears had not been because I was upset that I had fallen for the trap – it was because the disappointed look my mother would give me when I arrived home would be too much for me to bear.

I had been fully ready to hand over the money then, knowing that if I hadn't the man would do something much worse than take a few coins from me. The coins were burning a hole through the pocket my mother had carefully sewn on to the side of my dress, and as I had stuck my hand in to grab them, trying really hard not to cry in front of the man, a young man appeared at my side.

"Is there a problem here, my good sir?" the young man asked, his voice smooth and his every word dripping with sensuality. I had stared at the man, my eyes widened to their full extent. The young man was tall, about a full head taller than me, and his skin was tanned from obviously spending a lot of time in the sun. His hair was bronze and I can distinctly remember the way it had been ruffled, as if blown by the wind. But it was his eyes that got me. They were green like the waves in the sea before they crashed on shore. They were absolutely incredible. Of course I had recognized who this young man was immediately.

"Finnick Odair!" the man had gasped, his beady eyes shining with admiration. The man bowed graciously, as if forgetting that he was trying to pool money off of me. "Our district's most beloved victor! What can I do for you today?"

Finnick Odair's lovely eyes had been narrowed at the man. "I was just wondering what you was going on with you and Miss – what's your name, sweetheart?"

My thirteen year old brain had felt dizzy with glee, knowing that there were so many girls who would kill to be called sweetheart by Finnick Odair. "Annie," I had said quietly, not trusting myself to meet those green eyes as I told him.

"Annie." The sound of my name on his lips had been sweet, though I tried to push that thought to the back of my mind. Finnick Odair grinned at the man, though I could tell he found nothing about the situation amusing. "You know, sir, it isn't very kind to bully little girls into giving you money."

The vendor man's face had turned wan, and I had tried to hide a smile behind my hand as Finnick Odair continued. "In fact," the victor said, leaning forward with his eyes glittering with mischief at the man, "if someone were to tell the Peacekeepers that you're at it again – because trust me, this isn't the first time I've seen you pull a stunt like this – I'm almost positive that you'd be punished. Severely."

The man gulped. "O-of course," the man had stuttered, putting his head down and beginning to busy himself with the other products he was selling at his booth. "I, uh, must get back to work now. Very busy, with, ah, something."

And Finnick Odair had simply winked at the man before turning to me crouching down a bit so he was at my eye level. He was close enough that our breath was able to mingle in the air separating us. Finnick Odair's eyes had been unwavering as he studied my face. "Are you alright, Annie?" he asked in a quiet voice, and even though there had been nothing sexual about the question, I had felt like he was asking to take me right there in the middle of the market. I discovered that I was unable to form words, because I was so terribly embarrassed that I had to be rescued from my predicament. So I nodded.

Finnick Odair had given me one last, dazzling smile before standing up to his full height again, looking more handsome than I had ever seen him in the late afternoon sunlight. He had warned me to be cautious of the other vendors and swaggered off, causing heads to turn in his direction as he passed.

The next part of my little shopping trip was somewhat of a blur, because I had been trying to buy everything I needed as quickly as possible so I would get back home before my mom needed my help to make dinner.

I never mentioned what had happened in the market to anyone. I could have probably sold my story of meeting Finnick Odair to the ravenous media people from the Capitol who seemed to scavenge District Four for a sign of his presence. I could have made millions. But I didn't.

A few days after the incident in the market, there had been a loud knock on the door of my home. My mother busy calming my brother, I ran to the door, curious. As I flung the door open, wondering who on Earth it could be, I had quickly realized that no one was standing outside. Instead, a large roll of fabric was leaning against the pillar that held up the roof over the front step. I gasped.

It hadn't just been any fabric. It was the fabric, as in the sea foam green silk that I had seen at the market, the silk that had gotten me in trouble in the first place. Even as I had stared at it, my fingers twitched, longing to smooth themselves over the delicacy's surface. I was so stunned that I stood there for a moment, just staring at it. Of course, there was no way this fabric could have possibly sprouted limbs and waltzed its way over to my house…so who had left it here?

As I scanned the roll, I noticed a small white card sticking out from under one of the silk's folds. I reached for it, allowing my eagerness to take control. As I had read the words printed on the card in small, turquoise font, my face grew hot. Before I slipped back inside my house, I had gathered the roll of fabric up into my arms, its smooth surface rubbing against the bare skin of my arms. As I closed my front door behind me with my foot, calling to my mother to see the gift that we had received, the words from the note had burned into my mind. They still do, years later.

To Annie: I see why you liked this so much. It matches your eyes. –F. O.

When I woke up, a sense of dread flooded over me like a tidal wave.

I knew very well what today was. Every child in District 4 was aware of the fact that today could be the day it is confirmed they have another year to live. But it could also be the less favorable outcome – as I like to call it, the beginning of the end.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep as if today wasn't one of the worst days of the entire year. Instead, beneath my eyelids I visualized the stage in the district square, where Daphnie Pyrmont, our district's eccentric escort, would call out the names of the tributes destined to compete in the 70th annual Hunger Games. And right up there beside her would be the previous victors, most likely with Finnick Odair front and center, his blinding white smile causing shrieks from a fair amount of the young women present.

The incident in the market happened four years ago. I doubted that Finnick Odair even remembered my name now, being as famous and as popular as he is. I was just a simple little girl in the market that day, and he was helping me out a bit. I'm sure I wasn't the first damsel in distress he rescued, and lavished with an expensive gift. He has girlfriends in the Capitol for stuff like that.

It annoyed me how easily I blushed at the thought of him. It wasn't my fault that he was the most handsome thing I had ever laid eyes on.

My thoughts quickly drifted from Finnick back to the stage, and then flickered to some of the more gruesome moments from previous Games. I opened my eyes, not wanting to relive the horrors I had seen upon my television.

I slid out of my bed as slowly as possible, as if that would make time go slower. My bedroom floor was freezing, and it felt as though I was walking across a sheet of ice as I made my way out of my room.

My mother sat alone at our kitchen table, gripping her mug of tea so tight that her knuckles were turning white. The steam from her drink was swirling in front of her face, but her eyes were emotionless, staring at something on the table that I couldn't see. As I slid into the chair across from her, she looked up, her eyes a familiar faint green color. She forced a smile as I reached into our fruit bowl, grabbing the last pear. I bit into the fruit, the sweetness bursting over my taste buds as some of its juices flowed down my chin. "Big day," she remarked in her usual, quiet voice, but today it sounded brittle, as if it might break. I wasn't all that worried – my mother tended to get this way every year on reaping day. And honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if other people's mothers did too.

I nodded, not quite sure how to respond. How does one respond to the fact that today could be one of their last? How was any child supposed to come to terms with the idea of being slaughtered on nation-wide television?

My mother's pinched smile faltered slightly as she watched me eat. "Do you want me to get your dress for you?" she whispered, removing her gaze from my face and staring into her mug again, her eyes getting that vacant glazed-over look that was more than familiar to me.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and placing the core of the pear down on the table, I began to get up out of my chair. "You don't have to –"

"Annie!" The sound of small feet pounding into the wooden floor filled the kitchen, and a small figure with wild, dark brown curls hurdled into me. I felt small, skinny arms wrap themselves around my middle. Reef looked up at me with big, brown eyes –unusual coloring, for District Four. My dad's eyes had been the same color, and framed by lashes just as thick. Seeing his eyes reflected in my little brother made my heart hurt for a moment, because all I could picture was my father's drowned body getting pulled out of ocean, his limbs bent at unnatural angles and his lovely eyes staring at a sky he couldn't see.

I smiled at Reef and ruffled his unruly hair. He giggled, and his childlike innocence made me forget for a moment that it was reaping day. In my mind, it was any normal day. I would walk to the beach with Reef, we'd collect some shells, and he'd stick his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he tried to follow my nimble fingers as they assembled shell bracelets. I'd make us lunch – left over rolls from the night before with thin slices of fresh game from the market, Reef's favorite – and I'd listen to his stories of how life was as a five year old, an age where things were simpler.

An age where you wouldn't wake up from nightmares about being violently thrown into the arena.

I heard my mother cough from somewhere in front of me and I shook my head a little, trying to bring myself back to the bleak reality of the day. When I was preoccupied with Reef, she had moved over to the small wardrobe that was stationed near our front door. The mahogany door was opened a crack and I could see the long, flowing skirt of my reaping day dress peeking through. I wished that my mother would stop smiling at me in that pinched way of hers.

I bent down a little to press a kiss to Reef's forehead and moved over to the wardrobe, tracing my finger over the design in the wood, not meeting my mother's eyes. "The reaping isn't until later, you know," I told her, my tone soft.

"I know. I just thought….the dress is so pretty, I would like to see you in it."

I knew I could argue that she'd see enough of me in it later, but I didn't. My mother's eyes were pleading with me, as if my modeling of the dress now would do something to make her less broken, less nervous. I reached into the wardrobe and pulled it out, holding the dress in my arms as carefully as one could so I wouldn't crease it.

Reef shot me a toothy grin from across the room. "Annie's going to be pretty like a mermaid today."

I attempted to return the smile. "I guess you could say that, Reef." After all, the Capitol loves their food to look divine before they play with it.