District Four is not the same as he remembers.

It has been ravaged. Buildings have been burnt and streets overturned and the ground pockmarked with craters, but life has somehow managed to go on regardless. People laugh and cry and look so hopeful that it hurts. Temporary shelters are erected everywhere, and the district is alive for the first time that he can remember.

He cannot reconcile this place with his memory of it. District Four has been his home all his life, but he has never felt more lost than he is in this instant.

A woman, one of the volunteers who seems to be in charge of getting the district back on its feet, seems to sense that he doesn't know what to do. She bounds up to him with a polite smile on her face, and gives him a standard, "Can I help you, Mister?" as though he's nothing more than another refugee.

Her blitheness surprises him so much that he can't speak. When he does find his voice, his speech is fragmented.

"Annie Odair," he manages. "Where is she?"

The woman in front of him smiles sadly.

"I'm afraid Mrs. Odair has requested privacy. If you want to contact her, you can do it through the Justice Building."

Finnick clears his throat. Now he feels as awkward as he does lost. He subconsciously raises a hand to the scars that mar his face—that dip below his neck and cover nearly every inch of him. When Snow was selling his body and women treated him like an object, he'd told himself that he resented his attractiveness, but now he's unrecognizable and ugly and he might as well have lost a piece of himself.

It is the first time in a long time that he can remember feeling self-conscious.

"Please," says Finnick. His voice breaks. But he sees in the woman's eyes that she will not budge, and so Finnick desperately gives her the only thing he knows will help. "She's my wife."

"No, she-" But then he dips his head and looks the woman straight on, and her whole body tenses because his eyes have not changed.

He has to swallow back a wave of emotion when the woman's face crumples.

Then she's suddenly throwing herself at him. Finnick forces himself not to tense—pushes back thoughts of mutts and tributes and people wanting to use him. Because even though he has no idea why this woman would want to hug him, he does recognize that the gesture is innocent.

"Mister Odair," she says, and then she steps back, her face flushed. "I didn't-" There's an awkward moment of silence and he has to hold back tears. I didn't recognize you. With the scars. And the shaved hair. Without the muscles. Or the smirk. I didn't recognize you ugly.

"It's okay," he croaks.

"Annie is in your old home," she says. "In Victor's Village."

"I heard it was burnt down," whispers Finnick.

"They rebuilt it. For her."

Gratitude warms Finnick's heart. This time he is the one hugging her. Only for a moment. Then he smiles kindly and makes to leave.

She speaks again before he can go too far.

"I misjudged you. The whole district misjudged you." There are tears in her eyes, and suddenly he is uncomfortably aware of everything he said in that propo. Of everything that all of Panem now knows. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," he says hoarsely.

And then he can't bring himself to stay any longer, because his Annie thinks he's dead, and he needs to see her again.

Finnick knows that Annie should have ceased to surprise him a long time ago, but when he opens the door with the intention of leading her into the house, of making her look into his eyes and showing her his wedding ring and apologetically saying I'm your husband and I'm sorry you thought I died, but I came back as soon as I could, Annie looks him over and there's a moment of surprise, and then she says, "I knew you wouldn't leave me."

She knows that it's him. Never doubted that he'd come back for her.

Finnick loves her so much in that instant that it hurts, and while she might not have doubted him, he very much doubted his own ability to return home. So he reaches out and wraps his arms around her and holds her tight.

Then Annie pulls back and her eyes trace every one of his scars. Finnick ducks his head and begins to apologize, but then her lips are following where her eyes had been only moments before, and he's rendered speechless again.

"Annie…"

"No, Finn," she says into his neck, because she knows exactly what he was going to say. "I like them." Her eyes go to his, and he cannot doubt her sincerity. "They make you look strong."

She steps away from him and smiles blindingly.

"Come with me. There's someone you should meet."

He isn't expecting her to lead him to a blue-painted room with a crib.

He isn't expecting her to lean into the crib and pull out a bundle and press it into his arms.

He isn't expecting to look down into a pair of eyes just like his own.

"He's ours," Finnick whispers. Annie is in the child's dark hair and the set of his mouth, but the boy takes after Finnick in everything else. My son. I have a son.

"Aidan," says Annie. "It means 'born of fire.'"

Finnick smiles and he thinks that he might be something disturbingly close to happy.

When Finnick makes it to District Twelve—with Annie and Aidan, because he can't bring himself to leave them behind—he is disconcerted by the Mockingjay statue in the town square. There are thousands of names written on a plaque below it, and Annie's hand tightens around his own.

A morbid part of him wants to look and try to find the 'Finnick Odair' that is surely carved into the smooth marble.

But the past is the past and he is alive—so alive—and so he keeps walking without looking back.

When he stands across from Peeta and Katniss, he almost laughs.

Look at us, he wants to say. Torn apart and put back together.

It's almost funny, how symbolic their scars are.

"How?" Katniss whispers. Her eyes are fixed on the bite marks around his neck.

"Maybe someone was watching over me."

She lowers her gaze.

"I hated myself for not saving you."

Finnick hugs her. He imagines what their skin looks like side-by-side. The scars must complement each other. Crisscross and patchwork.

"I loved you for leaving me."

"Are you still hijacked?" he asks Peeta. Because Katniss is his best friend. And he knows that she loves the Boy with the Bread. Now he's worried that the Boy with the Bread no longer loves her.

"I'm getting better."

"Do you love her?"

Because Peeta won't be Peeta until he does.

Annie hits his arm. "Finn."

Peeta smiles.

"Yes." He takes Katniss's hand in his own, and even though she stiffens, the Mockingjay does not let go. Finnick looks into Katniss's eyes and sees a broken girl, but he also sees healing and knows that she'll be okay.

"Good."

Finnick doesn't think he's ever seen Haymitch Abernathy cry.

"Shit. This is why I shouldn't drink," he says when he opens his front door to find Finnick standing on his front steps. There are tears in his eyes and Finnick suddenly feels stupidly close to shedding a few himself.

"I'm real," Finnick says. "I'm alive."

"You died in the Capitol."

Finnick rolls his eyes and gestures to himself and asks, "Would you really imagine me like this?"

"Scarred on the outside and scarred on the inside. I'm a philosophical drunk."

He makes to slam the door shut, but Finnick puts himself in the way.

"I have a son named Aidan. You wouldn't know that—Katniss says you haven't paid attention to anything but your damn geese. Can't be your subconscious if I'm telling you something you don't know."

Their eyes lock and Haymitch takes a slow step forward, and then he rears back and punches Finnick in the face.

"I thought you were dead," he hisses. "You let me think you were dead."

Finnick is reeling because fuck Haymitch is strong, but then thick arms steady him and a gruff, short voice says, "You have no idea how glad I am you aren't dead."

They go to District Two after that. It's where Katniss says Johanna should be.

When he finds her, he's expecting a response similar to Haymitch. A punch in the face. Possibly a kick in the groin, because that isn't beneath her and he swears she's going to want to hurt him just like his death likely hurt her.

Instead she stares. She doesn't recognize him right away. But realization dawns in her eyes, after a moment.

She hugs him. The moment she realizes it's him, she hugs him.

It's the first time he's known her to hug anybody.

"Jo-"

"Don't say a word, fish boy," she says, and her voice is broken. She pulls back and stares at him and says, "Too many fucking people died. I'm done pretending I don't give a shit."

Finnick gawks openly.

Now Johanna hits him.

"This is where you tell me that you give a shit too."

"I'm not you, Jo. I've always given a shit."

"I know. It's why Snow had so much fun breaking you."

She's right and Finnick knows it, but he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. So he turns to Annie and grabs Aidan from her arms and says, "Look at my son."

"Ugly little fucker," Johanna says immediately. "Looks like a monkey's ass. Just like his father." But she's smiling and he can't bring himself to snap at her for using that kind of language around his baby. Especially when he knows that Johanna's only awful to the people she likes best.

"I love you, Jo," Finnick says absently.

"Shove it, Odair."

And he laughs because she just unknowingly proved him right.

Finnick runs into Gale Hawthorne before they leave. Annie is already on the train, but he'd been stopped by Brutus—who had somehow, regrettably recognized him—and so he's a few minutes behind.

Gale doesn't know him at first. Is busy directing some sort of rebuilding project going on near the train station when he sees Finnick jogging past and says, "Why do you look familiar?"

Finnick doesn't immediately recognize the voice either, so he turns and starts to deflect the question because he just wants to get back to his family. Then his eyes lock with Gale's, and Hawthorne's face falls and he all but moans, "Prim I get. But why am I seeing you?"

Peeta told him the story of Primrose Everdeen's death and how it had maybe been caused by bombs that Gale and Beetee came up with, but somehow he'd never considered how Katniss's (ex?) best friend might've handled something like that.

"I'm not dead," Finnick says.

"Katniss threw the holo," he says hollowly. "It exploded."

Finnick remembers that. There are burn scars on his back from it. That'd been when he'd passed out completely.

"You really think I'd let a little explosion kill me, after everything?"

Gale blinks and it clicks and he's suddenly aware that he isn't seeing a ghost.

There's an awkward silence and then Gale says lowly, "Most people don't have a choice."

Finnick realizes that Prim would've died in an explosion and suddenly he feels like a dick.

"Sorry."

"I deserve it. Deserve everything." He locks eyes with Finnick. "Especially from you. I was a jealous ass. Am still jealous."

"I don't want Katniss."

"But you have her. You and Peeta and Haymitch and Johanna. You're all closer to her than I'll ever be again."

Finnick opens his mouth, but he really can't deny it.

"Don't dwell on it."

"That's shitty advice."

It is, but it's all that Finnick can give. And he's never much liked Gale and Gale has never liked him, and this is getting awkward very quickly. He manages a stilted good-bye and then slips away.

"Do you want to move to District Twelve? Or Two?" asks Annie, as their train pulls back into Four. "You have nothing left here."

"We can make something here," says Finnick. "It's home. I don't want to leave."

"Are you sure?"

He joins their hands and squeezes hers tightly.

"Positive."

Because Peeta is hijacked and the Mockingjay has lost her wings and Haymitch is shattered and the Johanna he knew wouldn't have hugged him and Gale doesn't like him anyway.

But Finnick has everything he has ever wanted. And while the rebellion leaves a bad taste in his mouth and he'll always have nightmares, will always miss his family and mourn the dead and will never wake up without making sure that it's Annie in his bed, Finnick is happy.

It's the kind of thing that he'll never say out loud, but he's had enough sadness to last several lifetimes and right now he wants to hide away with his family and pretend that everything is perfect—that his closest friends aren't shadows and that the world isn't broken.

He's never been one to feel entitled to anything, but he thinks he deserves that much.

"I'm glad," Annie says softly. "I want our son to grow up by the ocean."

He grabs her hand and squeezes gently, and they share a smile.

Because for the first time in their lives, it looks like everything might just turn out okay.

...

...

...

A/N- So my brother was home from college this weekend, and he read Mockingjay for the first time. The two of us were sitting together while he was working through the last part, and at one point I look up to find that he has this absolutely devastated expression on his face and it looks like he's trying not to cry. I ask him what's wrong, and totally seriously he says, "That bitch just killed Finnick."

Which reminded me that Finnick is dead (I'd been repressing the end of Mockingjay since I read it), and hence prompted me to immediately write a fanfiction in which he isn't. It's short and unlikely and a little bit schmaltzy, so I wasn't intending to post it. Then I figured that it was all written and finished, so I might as well. I'd love to hear your thoughts.