Well then, I don't know how else to say this so allow me to start out with the cliché "this is my first…" author's note. –clears throat–

This is my first Hunger Games fanfic. Though I've written stories here, as well as FictionPress.

Ironically, being such a diehard Peeta/Katniss fan, I decided to write a Finnick/Katniss story as my first. I felt like starting with something that had more oomph and felt as though Katniss and Finnick would have more oomph because one, Finnick is such a flirty, pretty boy, manwhore type of boy; two, Katniss is such a pure, naïve, "You're going to stick what in my what now?" type of girl; and three, they would make such a hot pair of friends with benefits. I dare not do that to Peeta and Katniss, and their relationship. Never.

Oh yeah, last thing, disclaimer: It's a given that I'm not Suzanne Collins, so I don't own the series. It should also be a given that you should be prepared for spoilers, if you had not read all three books yet, so please do not wring my neck if I spoiled Catching Fire or Mockingjay for you.

Anyway. Here goes.


Of Hospital Gowns and Utility Closets

Chapter One: A Grip on Reality


"Annie."

My mind drifts in and out of reality. Or at least, what I think is reality. There are times when, though I am aware that I am heavily sedated, I can feel the movements and hear the voices of people around me, people I am not completely sure I know. "He won't buy it anymore, we can't just –" It's only for a fleeting moment, however. A single sentence, phrase, or word, and then I'm sucked back into dreamland.

My dreams are a hazy, distorted and anachronistic bunch of images from before and during the Quell. They flicker back and forth. From Annie, to everything else. They play over and over again in my mind, each time a little more vivid, and each time a little less chronological.

Behind closed eyelids, I see Peeta's unconscious figure, beneath my dehydrated self, pushing down on the center of his chest. Across me is Katniss Everdeen. I recall that, in reality, she was frantic. However, the figure in my dream seems calm and collected. She has a hand resting on her stomach. I pump my hands hard on Peeta's chest, and then bend back down, pinching his nose, to puff air into his lungs. I sit up once again, hands still working as sweat trickles down my forehead. I look up and see Katniss. Her image flickers, as if she changed her position momentarily. I stare at her figure, completely forgetting about my previous predicament a moment ago. She stares back. Then, in a split second, she shuts her eyes tight and covers her ears, hunching forward. I can feel myself stir physically, in the distant reality. In the dream, I look back down just as I hear Peeta gasp beneath me and I pull my hands away. "Thank you," imaginary Peeta says, unflustered, as if he wasn't dead just a few moments ago.

Looking up, I'm suddenly in the Remake Center, among chattering victors. The only detail that is different is the fact that everyone and everything is glowing. I spot Katniss, beside her chariot, stroking the neck of one of her horses. I approach her and she turns to find me, popping a sugar cube into my mouth, inches away from her face. I tilt my head to the point that my lips barely touch hers. I can hear myself say to her, "What about you, girl on fire? Do you have any secrets worth my time?" She gazes into my eyes, her expression is one I cannot read. Her eyes lower, flicker back up to me, and then lower again. Before I realize it, our lips meet.

There's this warmth that grows within me; it almost feels like a hunger, a thirst. I want more but suddenly the image of Annie floods through me and I want to guiltily cry out and tell her I'm sorry. Not for the fact that I just dreamed of myself kissing a girl from District 12. No, I've done far worse than that in the Capitol. I want to tell her I'm sorry I left her alone, to watch me fight to the death in the Quarter Quell. I can feel myself slowly coming to my senses and I begin to become aware of the fact that when I wake up, Annie won't be there to hear it.

I recall that I had awakened in panic. "Annie! Annie, where is she?" I looked up frantically at a nurse dressed in white hovering over me. I began to sit up when a stabbing pain shot through my chest. I let out a gasp. "She's not here," she said simply as I watched her inject a syringe of clear fluid into the tube attached to my arm. I drifted off instantly.

I'm desperate.

Desperate.

To see her face.

To hold her in my arms.

To feel her next to me, and not dream of her any longer because the pain has gone way too far for me to cope. And if I'm becoming a morphling then so be it because I need her. I need her and she's not here and I can't do this and this isn't real but she's standing there in the back of my mind and she's standing there and she's calling out. I'm running, running, running, though I know I am in a state of dreaming, and she has her arms wide open but I can't –

See. Everything is pitch black.

"… Another rebel leader along with Everdeen."

Everything is black and I think to myself that I'm probably dead. I'm hoping that, for some reason, a nurse decided to put me out of my misery and give me an overdose. I'm wishing for death, thinking to myself that this is the end of my suffering, when suddenly a flash of blue fills my vision.

"Everdeen," Annie says softly. I'm still asleep. Still dreaming. I'm sitting next to Annie, my beautiful Annie, wearing a bright blue silk dress. She's pointing to the screen on the wall, across her room. They're featuring a replay of the District 12 reaping. I see Katniss on the screen, pushing past Peacekeepers. The screen flickers to her sister, sobbing and screaming. "Everdeen," Annie whispers. "She had no other choice. She had no one else." I wonder for a moment if she's talking about Primrose or Katniss but I let it slide. I stroke Annie's face and lean in to kiss her cheek, "You, on the other hand, have someone else." She blushes and I whisper into her ear, "I, too."

She slides unto my lap; her skin is warm against my lips as I plant kisses along her neck and shoulders. She sighs and adjusts herself to face me, to caress my cheek. Damn how I love her. I instinctively lean against her hand. She looks at me blankly, her figure shifting and becoming hazy. Suddenly she stands and turns her back on me. Switching the screen off, she stands in the middle of the room.

"Annie?"

A minute passes and it seems everything in the room is trembling. I look at her and notice that her hair had been braided to one side. The television explodes, causing the shelving beneath it to set fire. She turns her head so I can see her face and it's not Annie.

It's Katniss.

She smiles.

And everything in my little dream world slowly begins to crumble and fade away.

My eyes shoot open and I'm momentarily blinded by the brightness of my surroundings. After a moment, when my vision has adjusted to the room's lighting, I begin to realize that whatever pain I had in my chest has disappeared and has been replaced with gnawing emptiness in my stomach. In my head I take a guess that I've been out for days. Slowly getting up, I examine the area and realize that I'm in the District 13 hospital. There are others around, judging by the sound of other beeping machinery and low whispering voices, though I can't see them due to the white curtains enclosing my bed.

Amusingly, as though it had been perfectly timed, these curtains are pulled back and a queasy looking Haymitch steps in, scratching his arm.

"Oh," he stops for a moment, obviously surprised by the fact that I was awake. "You're awake."

I try to laugh but end up wincing, realizing that the pain in my chest hasn't completely disappeared. "Thanks for the heads up," I nod as I clutch my side, which seems to be aching as well.

He snorts at my attempt to be humorous. He's dressed in a grey top and pants, looking as though he had a beating. Seems to me that he's more in need of hospitalization than I am. "Well glad to see you're awake, pretty boy," he takes a seat on the edge of my bed. "I don't know how long you're going to stay awake this time. You better. I think you've had enough beauty sleep to finally be filled in on what's going on."

I blink at him, half-listening, half-taking in my surroundings. "Stay awake?"

"Yeah, we've been trying to keep you conscious and alert for at least five minutes but you're one hell of a mess."

"Me? Look at you. And you're calling me one hell of a mess," I grimace. He brushes my comment off and reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. I stare at the object before its name registers in my mind. Cords twisted together creating a singular, stronger cord. Most commonly found in the seaside fishing docks along District 4. Rope. The sight of it nearly calms me down entirely.

"You," he says, pointing the coil of rope at me before tossing it on my lap. "This here is for you. Doc said it will help with the trauma. You seem to be fine now but you've been kind of dazed and… loopy at times, when you were awake, which is why we had to sedate you."

I run my fingers along the rope, "So. How long have I been out?"

"A few days," He pauses. "Shall I fill you in and remind you of what's been going on. Or is this already too much? I mean, the last time I talked to you, I had to say what I had to tell you about three times to get it through you."

"No, go ahead. I can handle it. I think."

He reminds me of what had happened in the area, pausing every now and then to ask if I remember or if I understand. He tells me of the explosion of the force field, the rescuing of Katniss and some of the other remaining victors, including myself, the fact that we're in an actually existent and thriving District 13, my asking for Annie, requesting Plutarch to let me go back to District 4 for Annie, and apprehension over why they can't bring Annie here.

He reminds me of the fact that I saved Haymitch's face from being clawed off by Katniss, "She's still not quite all right, but she's awake, I guess."

I somehow feel the need to ask about where Katniss is, but before I can, he fills me in on my meltdown when I find out Annie has been taken hostage by the Capitol. After the meeting with Plutarch, I have very few memories that I can recall, even vaguely at the very least, but I take in all the information he's giving me, trying as much as possible to piece together this and that, and trying incredibly hard to keep myself unruffled by the overwhelming feeling that's beginning to swell up in me.

He scratches his arm and says, "Well, I guess that's it. For now. They'll fill you in further later on."

"What's that?" I point at his arm.

He looks annoyed, probably thinking that I wasn't listening, but gazes to where I'm pointing. "This?" He lifts his arm and points at a white band around his wrist. "This is some sort of label these clowns use here to identify the people who are apparently cuckoo in the head. I mean, me? A nut?" He scoffs, "I'm in freaking rehab for the sake of Little Miss Scratch-Yer-Face-Off. Jeez. Do you know how impossible it is to get my hands on some alcohol around here? Even the medicinal type!"

I lift my right hand up and see that I have one as well. "Oh, goodie. Looks like you've got one too. Welcome to the madhouse," he says as he pats my leg.

"I meant the purple ink on your arm, actually," I say sheepishly.

"Ah. Gotta be more specific, Odair," he puts up his forearm. "This here's my schedule. Once you're out of this loony bin, you're going to have to follow one everyday. They've got practically everything here figured out. Even have this "nutrition" bullshit going on with the food servings. It's ridiculous."

A nurse steps in, carrying a tray of syringes. A wave of panic washes over me. "Sir, I don't think you're supposed to be in here," she says as she sets the try down on a table next to the bed.

"I don't think so either," Haymitch says flatly, getting up. "Not to worry though, was just about to leave. I'm supposed to be down in the dining hall." He nods at me before he turns to leave.

"How are you feeling? You seem to be a lot better, judging by the fact that Mr. Abernathy didn't seem irritated after speaking to you." The nurse says, picking up a syringe and tapping it several times with one hand. She looks at me and probably notices how pale I'm getting. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry! This is your lunch. Don't worry. It's just a precaution."

I look at her inquisitively.

"The last time you ate, you barely swallowed before you lost alertness. You nearly choked. You should be thankful you didn't," she smiles. Unfortunately I'm not, because I wish I did.

She injects the fluid into the tube and leaves me alone for a while with my rope. I don't notice that she's back until she taps me lightly on my shoulder. I look up just as I finish my knot. Next to her is a wheelchair. She beckons me towards it and puts down a pair of plain white slip-on shoes for me to wear. "Everyone is required to gather in the Collective right now. You're in better shape, so there's not reason for you not to go."

I look at the wheelchair, forgetting for a moment why it was there. "Mr. Odair?" I blink, fully aware of what's going on again. "I think I'll just walk," I tell her.

"Are you sure? Do you need any help? I can take you there." She sounds a little more eager than concerned.

"No, I'm fine," I stand a little too quickly, causing me to feel dizzy. I place my hand on the nurse's shoulder to steady myself. Once I feel fine I look up at her and grin. "Sorry, I'm fine, really," I say. She brushes a strand of her blond hair aside and tucks it behind her ear, blushing. I guess my apparent insanity doesn't stop her from ogling me.

"Well, alright then," she clears her throat, obviously flustered. "I'll bring you to the front. Nurse Everdeen will be leading the patients on this wing to the Collective."

Everdeen. I can hear Annie's voice in my head as I follow behind the nurse, hands still fiddling with the rope.

As we proceed down the halls, I don't pay attention to anything else other than the rope in my hand. I hear chatter around me as I tie and untie the rope, making all the different knots I had learned back in Four. Whether or not anyone had tried to directly speak to me, I do not know, but I continue tuning out the discussions of the other patients, some clad in only hospital gowns and some in robes, standing in a group in one corner of the Collective. I'm just about to completely knot an anchor bend when I'm nudged. I look up to see the person responsible and expect an apology, only to find a dark haired girl staring at me intently.

"Finnick! How are you doing?"

I surprise not only her but also myself as my hand darts to grip hers. "Katniss," I say, quite happy, incredibly happy seeing her. "Why are we meeting here?"

She tells me of how she's Coin's Mockingjay, so long as the other tributes, those who are currently in the hands of the Capitol, are granted immunity. Apparently she asked for this promise to be made "in public, so there are plenty of witnesses."

"Oh. Good. Because I worry about that with Annie. That she'll say something that could be construed as traitorous without knowing it," I say and she suddenly looks a bit distracted. She smiles reassuringly though, "Don't worry, I took care of it."

She gives my hand a squeeze and though I know she's going to let go, I somehow don't want her to loosen her grip on my hand. I'm about to tell her to please stay for a few moments. But she walks off towards the front, leaving me no choice but to go back to my own little bubble with my cord of rope, once again, drowning out reality.


Well, that's the first chapter. How is it for a start? Feel free to toss some constructive criticism in your review. If you will review.