Foreword:

I wrote this story a long time ago and in the midst of Mockingjay excitement I have decided to rework it and edit through some of my "bad fanfic" days (haha). I hope you enjoy the changes and adjustments as well as the newly added situations and descriptions! Stories like these have helped me grow as a writer and I appreciate the continual support!

Disclaimer:

I do not own any of these characters, nor their settings, or plots. All belongs to Suzanne Collins and Lionsgate.

Notes about the story:

Most of the problems I had with the story when I first wrote it were that you couldn't always find specific chapters, so I promise to label them and leave trigger warnings to certain chapters in the descriptions, though I do encourage everyone to read through because I am very happy with this story now (though in three years I'll probably hate it again, haha). I love Finnick Odair and I hope I do him justice.

Thanks to the old fans of the original story, Frick6101719 (for supporting me, haha), LavMenace, and BaconWrappedRainbows (for helping to Beta Read a few chapters).

Please enjoy!

"Get off of that, boy!" I am startled by my father's gruff voice and knock over the barrel filled with slimy fish fins leaning against the ship. Every pair of squinted crew member eyes start to stare at me; my cheeks get red as I quickly try to fix the mess I had made. The catches of the day lie flopping on the freshly waxed deck as a tell-tale sign of my failure.

My father comes up from behind, picking me right up by the collar of the braided rope I have wound around my neck, usually used for making last minute nets. Try as I might, it's too hard to break free. He dunks me into the water right over the other side of the ship. With what ease that man could lift my already massive body.

Air escapes my lungs as the salty water fills my nose and burns the insides of my throat. I try frantically to push myself out of the stinging water but find it near impossible due to my father's hand. The laughing of the men is audible from all directions. Somehow I need to look strong, I need to keep face – but I know I deserve this punishment.

My father merely laughs cruelly as he fixes what I had failed to. My body is at ease and I stay in the water, watching as he and several others work on tossing the catch back into the barrel. I can see a far part of the ship as I bob slowly – it's bare of people. My young body is still hoping for recovery as I hop onto a far corner, where none of the crew can shame me, rats and other undesirables swarm me as if we're equals... I'd have to agree with them.

I grab my lonesome fishing pole and try to cast it out. I hope that my lady, the ocean, will bring peace to me. Why did they all hate me, why was it so hard for me?

The sunset reflects into the water which soon becomes lit with little white crystals – the stars have come to decorate the world below. As the ship docks and ropes are thrown, the salty air makes everyone's skin sticky, combining with the mix of dirt and sweat layered on you by a three days voyage. I quickly hop down, waiting for my father to hand me what little remains of our lure. Instead I watch in pain as he hands it to another boy my age – proving that I have upset and ultimately disappointed my father today.

My face grows warm with heat as my emotions catch the better of me. I run off, around the curve of the sandy beach, kicking my sandals off by the dock of ship without a second look behind. I love that crunchy feeling as the warm little pebbles puncture the soles of my feet and stick in-between my toes.

I find it, behind the mountain peak, a small secluded part of my ocean. It hides the ship houses of District Four, the smelly wharfs, and boats. I dive into the water without hesitation, letting the water fill my nostrils and sting, but this time it's a good sting – not one filled with embarrassment.

Swimming, pushing gallons of water behind me and knowing that this creates little rifts and mini waves into the crashing water surrounding everything in my homeland, this is what I do better than anything else in this world. These have been my waters for years now, where I've always come to swim. My stroke was perfected in this vast bowl of blue. I decide to go under, holding my breath and letting my body sink to the floor below. The amazing world beneath me comes into light, the world I've always been jealous of, the world of hundreds of little fish swimming around me decorated in all sorts of different colors and shapes. I manage to steady myself, steady it enough to where the fish come up and suck on my toes, tickling my body as they swim in their patterns.

Three minutes go by until I need air. My father had taught me how to hold my breath like a frog. The trick is to breathe out oxygen in front of you, then suck that oxygen back in. I haven't perfected it, but there's a man around here who dives for pearls in the waters – he can hold his breath for over thirty minutes and it never fails to fascinate me.

I whip my head up out of the water and my hair slaps the bare part of my forehead with a stinging force. I chuckle to myself. No matter how long I want to stay under the water and be with the beauty held below, I'll never be able to hold it long enough. My eyes catch someone out of their corners. A little girl, just staring at me quietly, in disbelief.

Confused, and thinking I had just seen a mermaid, I head back down for another three minutes to ease my mind. I start to cough. No, I hadn't gathered enough air! My body floats back up to the top and my eyes blacken just a tad as my body tries to compensate. But she's still there, just staring at me. Her brown locks brushing a tanned skin that shines in the setting air, little freckles from the sun on her nose ready to dance into the water. I know I've never seen her before.

I watch her intently as she dives in. Thinking she is strange, I swim a bit further out, watching the exact spot where I know she dove. No one comes over to this area of the District so it's strange that suddenly I have a visitor. I wait for a good five minutes, impressed by her diaphragm and how long she's been able to hold it. But then I realize there must be a problem; it's been just a bit too long...

And before I even put all of this together, I have already swam out to that area of the water, diving deep under it in the dark depths of water only to find her covered in seaweed and unwanted treasures. How has she not learned to swim? I grab her small body and prop her on my shoulder without wasting any time. Pushing waves of water behind me I propel us quicker to land, we make our way to the top of the water and I throw her on the sand as I begin to recall the millions of times my father had done this for others.

I push down on her chest, with all my strength, watching the water flow of out her mouth with small, gentle grunts. Following the steady beat I had set I grab her nose and hold it shut. I reach over to her lips and press mine against them, breathing life back into her tiny frame. I watch her eyes shoot open with energy and then calm back down to nothing. She coughs violently as she sits up as if water is still sloshing around deep in her lungs.

All I can do is give her a confused look as I begin to interrogate her in a frantic nervousness, "Why didn't you swim? I mean, are you crazy?" It baffles me; everyone in District 4 has to know how to swim! We're surrounded by water, we work in the water, we live on the water! My heart pounds faster as I stare into the non-responsive girl's face and reprimand her actions, "I was scared! I -" Something stops me and I look into her dense eyes.

She looks terrified herself. I can barely make out her whisper, "I wanted to be like you. Swimming beautifully... I wanted to escape to the world down there," her eyes look out towards the ocean in a longing way and something within myself understands her desire to be with the sea, to want to unlock her mysteries.

I laugh nervously and help the girl up. I ask if she would like me to walk her home and she quickly grabs my hand with a shaky breath. My eyes observe this little girl and yet again I am dumbfounded by her actions, yet at the same time slightly intrigued by her very being as if she is perhaps mystical in some way.

"Can you teach me how to swim?" There is a sense of fear wavering in her voice, a fear of me rejecting her. I look into her green eyes, they're just like mine - like the sea, like the water, like the fish. We are the same, one with the ocean.

I nod, giving her a friendly smile that I hope puts her at ease. With little hesitation I tell her I'll come to this spot again tomorrow, agreeing to teach her. Her hand drags down on mine as she sits herself in the sand and begins to watch the stars decorate the water from above. They start creating stronger shapes and shades in the undulating currents. I give her a knowing grin, leaving her there to her own thoughts as I make my way back to my house. It's not far from the water – a boy like me can never be too far from a whispering lady such as the sea.

My father is the head of his ship, there are several in our District. I know he's worked hard to get there and it's of some importance around here... it means a helluva lot to him, I can tell you that. Our home stands slightly larger than some of the others but nothing like the Victor's Village housing closer into the city. No, our house is still a bit cramped, but you can actually stand up in the bathroom – so that's something.

The sand reaches all the way up to our boat house, my mother isn't a fan of constantly having to sweep it all out, but I enjoy being able to feel the waves splash up to my calves along the walk back home. I remember being really little, our house was made of wood long before I was born and it's so old now that any remnants of the brownness that once acted as its paint are now grayed away - the water from storms and waves have washed away all of its colors, or maybe it's the salt in the air... how would I know? I'm just a fisherman's son, not some scientist.

Quietly I turn the door knob; you never know who will be home. I look at the rum bottles that lay strewn across the room, dripping their inside contents onto tables and counters. And there she is, my mother, sitting on a chair in the corner of the kitchen, a small dab of fresh blood dripping from her lips as the bruise from my father's fist has yet to manifest itself on her battered skin. She was once pretty in old pictures, they still hang on the walls, but life hasn't been easy on her. An alcoholic husband plagues most sailors' wives, my sister's illness, and me for a son – yeah, none of it has really kept the years off her. I hate to think we've all accelerated this woman into an early grave. Not that I see her much to know her at all, but it's still not fair.

I breathe almost silently as I move through the dark house, stopping quickly as an old board begins to moan, I don't want to wake her, or him, or anybody. I want to just make my way to the small corner of the house, my corner. I open the door that is as high as my chest and duck my way inside. My body is still at an angle as I fall down onto my mattress in the corner. This is a relief to my back, after having been cramped from the past three days where I had been sleeping on the wet wood of our ship. My eyes shift up to look at the crib next to me – my baby sister babbles softly in her sleep. Only one and a half years old, but so much of her life is gone, missing... we surely can't afford the medicines she needs and no one in this family has really shown an effort to obtain them. The Capitol has them, like they have everything, but how could we ever get them at a price less than life itself?

I've noticed how the other people look at me and my family. The men and boys with shots of scorn in their eyes, and the women with flashes of peculiar interest. I am only 14, and yet I have the face and body of a strong young man, my arms, chest and legs are muscular and tan. My sea green eyes, just like the girl at the beach, compliment a dusty dark brown mop of hair.

I won't lie, I know I'm handsome, a beautiful specimen of human even. But in the long run none this will matter. The boys from the school, who refuse to be friendly, try to force my life into a living hell, throwing my possessions around the classrooms, yelling taunts at me. The men on the ship do it as well especially when they make my failures out to be bigger than what they are. Jealousy, the color of green just like my eyes, and oddly enough my own favorite color.

The pillow I throw my head on is comforting, though I am still angry that my thoughts continue to ramble on. How foolish of me to think I'd be more comfortable on the mattress. The rocking of the ship is missing and I am failing to fall asleep. So, I lie here the entire night, trapped in my thoughts as the ocean waves fill the noise in the background of my mind.

Please feel free to review and comment, I very much appreciate your words. Thank you!