A/N at the end. SC, you own it, giiirl.
Catch
Finnick never really understood the big deal about getting gifts.
The Capitol citizens loved him, so they sent him stuff to help him win in the arena. It was simple, no need to make a thing about it.
And sometimes the parachutes were so maddening. Because he needed water, or food, and they sent him a frivolous trident charm. A charm. Not even the real thing. When he needed sustenance, they sent him sugar cubes. Except that water purifier someone sent, that was a lifesaver. But he was Finnick Odair, one of the youngest, and obviously handsomest, tributes.
So he got away with a cheeky grin, and comment at the screen in the arena "Is that all you got?".
Sometimes, only sometimes, he wondered about that girl back home. The one who sobbed, maybe even sobbed the hardest, when his name was drawn. He didn't even know her name, but she lost it during the reaping. A-something, he thought. Anne? Anna?
He popped the last of the jerky in his mouth, unconcerned.
He was Finnick Odair, he was bound to win this. The Capitol wanted him.
[Fast forward]
He's still Finnick Odair. Only now he's learnt about cost; about a catch. That their love doesn't come for free, and their gifts damn well don't.
Because now they own him. They get to do what they want with Finnick, they own him.
Finnick didn't understand when he was so much younger, when he was in the arena. But now he's fifteen, and he feels so much older.
That's what paying the price of people used to getting everything does to you. To owe a debt to people who don't even recognize privileges from rights.
Tonight, Finnick is in some hotel room downtown. He's wearing clothes he doesn't own, smelling like cologne he doesn't own, sitting in a hotel room he didn't pay for.
He doesn't even look up at who walks in the room, because it doesn't really matter, they are all the same anyway. It's always the same. They'll sit by him on the bed, rest their hand on his leg. Whisper something that sounds cheap, rehearsed, in his ear. And Finnick will smile at them, because they've taken everything, so it doesn't matter.
"Hello, Finnick." The woman, or at least he hopes it's a woman, says. She's standing across the room, her hands behind her back, leaning against the door. "I've wanted to talk to you for a while."
And that makes Finnick look up. She's much less adorned then the rest of them. Wearing a simple black high-collared top, over tight black pants, and black shoes. Only her hair looks unnatural, dyed light, and cut severely around her head, and her skin is a rich dark color. And she has the smallest touch of gold eyeliner, bringing out the golden color in her green eyes.
"It's a long wait for Finnick Odair." He says, grinning in a way that makes most the girls blush.
But this one just looks sad. "I'm sorry for what we've done to you."
"What?" He thinks he might have misheard her.
"How despicable we must seem to you." She shakes her head slightly.
"Do I know you?" And Finnick feels himself losing some bravado.
"I sent you something, in the arena."
"The purifier."
She nods. "The smallest sort of apology."
And Finnick sort of hates her. Because she's acting like this, because before all the people who came to his bed were a blur of nothings. They were all the same, and they didn't understand what they were doing to him. They didn't know any better.
"Why do you care?" He leans back on his elbows, so his shirt rises up. "Most people just want a piece."
"I'm not like most people. Besides—" She takes a deep breath. "I have a little brother, and I want him to know better. To do better things."
"So what's the catch?"
"The catch?"
"What do you want from me? You expect me to believe you sent me the water – the water – and you don't want anything in return? Except a little 'hello'? Maybe that would have worked before, but baby, I know better know."
"Oh, you poor boy." And she manages to say it without being condescending. "You know everything evil, and nothing of the good. What about that girl?"
Finnick snorts. "That, does not narrow it down."
"The one they interviewed, for the Games, I think her name was Annie—"
And Finnick is out of bed before she can blink. He's not even thinking, he's just pinning her neck against the wall with his forearm.
"Leave her out of it." He breathes in her face. "Do what you'd like with me, but the girl has nothing to do with it."
"Keep it that way."
He's surprised enough to loosen his grip.
"Keep her safe from this, Finnick. And take care of yourself. And I am so truly sorry. I'm sorry how little my apology helps."
"Who are you?" He asks, just as she's walking out of the door.
"Be safe, Finnick Odair."
And she's gone.
And Finnick thinks about her words, how they should comfort him. But he's only thinking about what the catch is, what it will cost him.
A/N: So this was a free write. I got the idea, went with it, wrote it, and uploaded it. That's why it's a bit incoherent. :) To be clear, the woman in this, in my mind, is Cinna's older sister that I made up, note the line, and description. I did not write this with that intent, but that's how it unfolded itself. There's never an explanation for how lovely Cinna got to be the way he was, so this is my proposal; that he had someone to teach him to know better. Also, I love Finnick and Annie, so there's a little about them. And, because it's THG, I kind of imagine that Cinna's sister was killed for this. That was the catch, and that's what pushed Cinna.