Chapter 65: Finnick Odair

A/N: Another chapter and this time it's a character that everyone would know all too well: the charming Finnick Odair, a Victor who was much more than he appeared to be, and truly endeared to many hearts both in Panem and the world at large. But he was also known for one other thing: secrets. And in the crazy life that Finnick was thrust unwillingly into, there were certainly plenty of secrets that he stored up...

Katniss sat there, slumped on the couch, her eyes clouded over with dire trauma. She leaned forward and placed her head in her hands as tears began to pool in her eyes, causing the world to dissolve into a frothy blur.

Finnick...

The name stung, sizzling through her body like hot coals, sending excruciating jabs through her spine. She rocked back and forth, her lips tightly pursed, blinking profusely in an attempt to quell the tears that were threatening to burst through her eyes.

He's dead, gone, decapitated...

Right on cue, a barrage of memories burst through the already crumbling dams of her mind, crashing in huge waves into her brain and drenching her with untold horror and anxiety as Finnick's final moments of sheer horror began to replay in her mind, second by second, frame by frame, a horror show of tremendous proportions.

Peeta put an arm around Katniss, his eyes tinged with sorrow as he let out a melancholic sigh.

"He deserved so much better," he uttered, the tears choked in his voice.

Neither of them was able to say much else, the grief was too damning for them to bear. As a haunting silence dawned upon them, echoing and rippling across the train car, the murky images of Finnick's abysmal life began to come into view.

Finnick Odair

District 4

Aged 14

4 Kills

4 Secrets With Finnick Odair

1:

"Come on Finny," Annie jabbed Finnick's shoulder, a playful smile scribbled across her pale face, her rosy cheeks brimming with childhood elation. The warm, summer sea breeze caused her long, flowing hair to sweep about, streaking across and around her face. She was his best friend, the girl he had met when he was seven, all those years ago, when he was just a little boy playing about on the beach with his little toy trident. Back then, she hadn't been much, and they had rarely spoken in school, only the occasional nod and 'hullo' whenever they passed by along the promenade.

But she had crept up on him.

The grains of time had passed through the hourglass, the winds and tides had changed their course, and their relationship had changed, a blossoming friendship having washed upon them ever since Annie had arrived on his doorstep on that cold, windy night in early January, dressed in sackcloth, her body ransacked with a myriad of cuts and bruises, her face blotted with teardrops that seemed to glue a tint of blue in the hauntingly mesmerising moonlight.

They had been inseparable once his family had taken her in as one of their own.

They were practically joined at the hip, always right by each other's side, always walking together, laughing together, crying together, training together, doing almost everything together. People often looked at them and commented about how cute they would be as a couple, but Finnick never paid them much attention, ignoring them for the most part, while Annie for some bizarre reason found their ship utterly hilarious.

She had a funny sense of humour, but Finnick found it rather amusing, the way she would laugh at the most peculiar of things.

Case in point, right that moment, when Annie's rather hard jab had almost sent Finnick tumbling down the pier and into the choppy, murky waters below, infested with seaweed, driftwood and waste. He yelped, his eyes widening as he hastily grabbed a hold of a wooden pole that was just barely within arm's reach, trying to steady himself to avoid an unwanted plunge into the rather unpleasant looking ocean beneath. He glanced up, shooting Annie a glare, but he couldn't maintain the expression for long.

Not when she was on the floor practically splitting her sides at Finnick's unfortunately high-pitched yelp, one that Annie had always compared to the whistle of a baby dolphin.

It wasn't exactly the most flattering of comparisons, to say the least.

"That was absolutely hilarious," she chuckled, flashing him a smug smile.

Finnick sighed, trying to suppress the smile tugging at his lips, the one that would betray his real emotions, and he attempted a bemused stare, crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly to the right as he did so.

Not exactly the brightest move on his part.

Annie let out a squeal of mirth, clutching her stomach as she shrieked with glee, blatantly ignoring the rather peculiar looks the fishermen reeling in their daily catch were shooting them. Finnick rolled his eyes as he tried to look a lot less like what Annie often referred to as a 'pouty dugong', whatever that was supposed to mean.

Just then, the loud horn of a cargo ship blared across the coastline, like a loud heavenly trumpet announcing the arrival of an apocalypse, the sheer sound of it almost having the capacity to tear through the dark clouds that loomed ahead ominously. This time it was Annie's turn to let out a high-pitched yelp as she stumbled backwards, only for Finnick to catch her before she could fall to the ground. "Whoa there," he uttered, steadying her back onto her feet.

Annie brushed herself off, raising an unamused eyebrow as her eyes rained with storminess. "I don't need your chivalry, Finny," she pouted, raising her chin and taking an intimidating step forward, only to slip on a wet patch and nearly lose her balance once more. Finnick reached out his hands and managed to catch her. Annie glared firmly at him, with all the cute anger of a clumsy twelve-year-old. "Again, I don't need your chivalry, idiot."

Finnick had to resist the urge to let out a knowing laugh, his mind instantly swirling through memories of Annie losing her balance in even the most stable, most sturdy of place.

She was like a hammerhead in a china shop.

Annie's expression began to soften. "Anyway, quit stalling, tell me your little secret, Finny."

Finnick lofted his eyebrows, his eyes glazed with innocence. "I have no little secrets."

"Oh yes, you do! You fancy someone, don't you? It's the talk of the town, the most handsome boy in the area having chosen a special girl to be with," Annie murmured, a sly grin creeping up the side of her cheeks. There was always the lingering possibility of rejection, but no one ever believed that rejecting a romance with Finnick Odair was even plausible.

"I don't fancy anyone, Annie," Finnick tried to defend himself but Annie was having none of it. She gave him an annoyed grunt and smacked his arm lightly, taking yet another step that forced Finnick to back away closer to the edge of the pier.

Well she means business, Finnick thought, glancing around, looking for an escape but there was none to be found. Annie prowled closer, like a predator approaching its prey, a twisted yet playful smile on her face. "Who is it, Finnick?"

Finnick bit his lip.

She can't know. Not in a million years.

Not when the girl he liked was Annie herself.

"It's, uhh, Kayla, you know, Kayla Barnes," he blurted out, thinking of the tennis-loving girl who lived across the District, a girl who Annie barely knew anything about. It was the first name that popped up in his head, mostly because Kyla had tried to flirt with him during one of the District-wide tennis competitions that allowed her to travel here to San Francisco. Her efforts had mostly gone unnoticed because Finnick simply had no time for romance with any of those girls who tried to approach him, for goodness sake he was just a child, he was far from ready to dabble with romantic love.

Annie's eyes widened with amusement, her smile curling into a slight snicker, but then it warped into a scowl. Her eyebrows knitted and a cloud of disbelief began to brew over her face, turning her rosy complexion into a stormy one intertwined with dark peals of doubtful thunder. Finnick gulped, clutching onto a wooden pole as Annie began to encircle him like a vulture. Then, to Finnick's relief, her expression began to soften, and she let out a relenting sigh. "Fine, I'll figure it out myself then."

Finnick smirked. "Good luck with that," he chirped.

The subsequent push into the ocean was probably a deserved one.

2:

A bright flash of lightning rippled across the night sky, streaking down to the earth in a mighty jolt of blinding white light that awoke the critters of the night, sending them into a frantic scuttle into the numerous burrows and dens scattered across the forest. The arena was alive and kicking even under the dark shadows of the looming black sky, the vibrant sounds of the tropical jungle island clamoured all around Finnick in a noisy ruckus, the flies and mosquitoes that had killed the boy from Twelve just this morning swarming too close for comfort. The insect repellent he had been sponsored was working miracles for now, but he knew that there were other dangers lurking in the cover of night, ready to pounce at any moment. Even the sixteen-year-old girl from One, Psyche Montgomery, sitting back against a tree by his side, her sword resting in her belt, she was a threat too.

It didn't matter how smitten she seemed to be with him.

It didn't matter how she had teamed up with him to kill off the Pack on the first day, with the exception of that sly boy from Two.

It didn't matter how they had made a pact to stick together until the finale.

Betrayals were the way of order in the arena.

The loud shriek of a howler monkey rang through the trees, scaring off a flock of birds and startling Psyche. Her hands instantly drifted to her sword, her expression contorting into a look of absolute focus as she scanned the surroundings.

"It's just a monkey, Psy," Finnick reassured her, taking a sip of water before wiping some sweat and dirt off his forehead.

Psyche's expression relaxed and she sank back against the tree, heaving a sigh of relief as she brushed the hair out of her eyes. "I thought Loki had finally caught up with us. Thank goodness it's just one of those stupid beasts."

A frown etched itself across Finnick's face. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call them beasts."

Psyche opened her mouth to say something, but then she hesitated, before shaking her head, the creases deepening in her forehead as she muttered, "Never mind." Her sparkling blue eyes seemed to become dull all of a sudden, her eyebrows furrowing into a look of despondency, her lips pursed tightly yet still unable to seal in the tiny whimper that mellowed in her throat. She seemed a far cry from the girl who had shot him flirtatious looks throughout training and had slashed the throat of her own District partner and the girl from Four, one of those stupid pirate volunteers who Finnick honestly could not even feel a shred of affiliation towards.

No, she seemed like a weakened, hollow shell of that girl.

"What's wrong, Psy?" Finnick asked, his voice softening as he scooted closer towards her, reaching out and grabbing her left hand. At his touch, a hint of a smile almost showed up on her face, but it quickly vanished from sight, replaced by an even deeper scowl.

"Nothing, it's fine, just some old secret," she murmured, swallowing hard as she tried to straighten her back, all the while still keeping hold of Finnick's hand. She began to caress his fingers lightly, perhaps just an act of flirtation, one her snobby Montgomery relatives might have trained her to do. But underneath the cloak of the typical District One Career girl lay a girl with her own vulnerabilities, and she didn't seem too fine at the moment.

"I can keep a secret," Finnick whispered softly in her ear, hopefully soft enough so the cameras couldn't pick his words out. He lifted his other hand and pushed a strand of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear, giving her his trademark charming smile that normally made girls in his school swoon, with the exception of Annie of course, who never failed to give that smile an exasperated eye roll.

Psyche bit her lip, dipping her head slightly as a small, shaky smile began to surface on her face. Giving the surroundings one final wary glance, as if to check for the presence of any hidden cameras watching them, she leaned closer towards his ear, her breath warm and smelling strongly of clementine. Finnick fidgeted slightly as her breath tingled through his earlobe, but he steadied herself to hear her talk.

"I had a brother," she told him, her voice uncommonly shaky. "His name was Demantur."

"Was?" Finnick inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Psyche nodded, her hand starting to tremble slightly but Finnick lightly caressed it. Slowly, her muscles began to relax and her expression softened slightly. "I was out on an excursion with him to those caves Aunt Crystal always told us about. We weren't supposed to, but we still did anyway. And when we were going through this little forest, this monkey mutt, it came up and-" Tears began to flow down her face as her voice faltered, replaced by a strangled sort of cry. Finnick's face darkened and he grimaced as he began to connect the dots.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry to hear that Psy," he whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace, however he made sure to keep an eye on her muscle movements, just in case this was all merely a ploy to betray him.

"My family never found out what happened to him," Psyche admitted, her face scrunching up as she tried to fight back the barrage of oncoming tears. "If they did-"

"Don't worry Psyche, your secret's safe with me," Finnick promised, his voice firm as ever.

Psyche managed a small smile and she leaned closer, giving Finnick a small peck on the cheek. He blinked, slightly taken aback by t=her action, but it didn't seem too flirty, more of a sisterly kiss rather than a romantic one, which in itself was a fair bit of surprise.

Finnick decided that he rather liked this girl from One.

But it would be their last conversation before Psyche was torn apart by the barbaric boys from Six and Eight.

3:

Just keep on smiling, don't let them see your fear.

It was a mantra that Finnick tried to repeat over and over again in his head.

But it was easier said than done.

He gritted his teeth as he forced himself to keep a hold of his wide, seductive smile, steeling his muscles to hide the fact that he was shivering from the chilly cold winter air of the Capitol.

The fact that he was from the sunny, tropical District Four really wasn't doing him any favours at the moment.

Pulling the thin, coffee-stained satin blanket over his bare chest, he took a deep breath, trying to calm the wild thumping in his heart after what had just happened.

Dirty, cruel acts of vile inhumanity, that was the only way to describe it.

It felt as though a part of Finnick had been violently ripped to shreds during that horrific night at the winter mansion of Arcadia Killjoy, a childhood innocence that had been so cruelly snatched away just four days after his sixteenth birthday.

The lower half of his body felt incredibly numb, a slowly ebbing throb in his abdomen the only thing he could feel down there. When he attempted to command his legs to move, they refused to obey, two disobedient pawns that Finnick was growing increasingly impatient with. His nose complained and wailed loudly, no longer able to withstand the horrific stench of this room. His arms, usually so strong and capable, felt like heavy kayaks that he could not lift on his own.

He needed Annie to keep him strong.

But she probably hated him, hated him for going away to the Capitol on the night of his birthday, an occasion he would usually celebrate with her.

Hated him for all the nefarious rumours about his journey here.

Hated him for having to remain silent about all that went on here in the Capitol.

She probably thought he was rotten to the core.

Finnick bit back a sigh, forcing himself to shelve away his wayward thoughts about Annie as Arcadia entered the room, fully clothed for the first time tonight, her green, surgically altered fingers gripping onto a blue handbag adorned with fine jewellery and intricate embroidery, an expensive commodity beyond the wildest dreams of District folk.

Just the sight of it, and all of her ridiculously wealthy expenditure, made his stomach churn.

Arcadia flashed him a toothed smile, baring those surgically altered fangs of hers, ones she had obtained in the aftermath of Enobaria's victory as part of some crazed Capitolite trend. Finnick forced himself to smile back, combing back his hair in a seductive manner.

It took everything within him to refrain from screaming his heart out.

"I believe it's time for payment, Finnick dear," Arcadia purred in that bone-chilling low voice of hers. She unzipped her purse slowly, her snake-like eyes still fixated on him, stirring a nauseating feeling in his gut. He desperately wished he could look away, but alas, he was forced to maintain eye-contact with this horrible monster as she pulled out a fat wad of cash and set it down in front of Finnick.

Finnick glanced down at the money. A small smirk began to spread across his face as the wheels and cogs in his brain began to twist and turn, and the plan he and Mags had conjured up a few weeks ago was now ready to be rolled out into action.

He extended a hand and lightly pushed the money away from him, shaking his head. "Ah, I have no use of something as common as money."

Arcadia's jaw dropped, her snake eyes widening to the point they almost seemed like they were bulging, a sight that intimidated Finnick but he gripped his thigh tightly underneath the blanket, in a bid to remain calm and focused. He tried to explain as politely as he could that his Victor earnings were more than sufficient for him and a greater excess of riches was greatly unnecessary.

"However, there is something I wouldn't mind being paid in," Finnick crooned, keeping his voice to a mysterious, low hush as he crawled closer to Arcadia, a flirtatious young deer moving towards its mate.

Arcadia shoved the purse aside and leaned closer, allowing Finnick to catch a whiff of that putrid breath of hers he had grown accustomed to over the night. It strongly resembled that foul concoction sold in the Blue Whale, District Four's secret black market, a concoction rumoured to have magical healing powers, and also a concoction Annie had always referred to as 'liquified dugong farts'. He wished he could draw away, but no, he had to draw closer, for the sake of his golden plan to slowly avenge himself and all the other Victors forced to endure these same horrors.

"What would that be, my dear?" Arcadia asked, her voice tipped with an intrigued sort of curiosity.

Finnick moved towards her, until their faces were almost touching. A small purr of delight escaped his lips, a forced one, of course, before he whispered something in her ear.

"Secrets."

Arcadia moved away from him, a devious grin painted across her face. She straightened her frankly quite ugly hot pink dress and raised an eyebrow, giving Finnick a cunning look.

Soon, she would be spilling secrets about the murder of her own daughter at her own hands, and the 'accident' she set upon her rival coworkers and paramour, oh, and the lies she told about her origins just to sweeten the deal.

Finnick left the mansion, perturbed by his ordeal, but nonetheless satisfied by the secrets he had obtained.

They would be the first of many he spoke in front of the camera at District Thirteen.

4:

Finnick had issues, they had uttered, right in his face.

Wandering the corridors of District Thirteen, he seemed more zombie than human, with his weary, bloodshot eyes, scarred body and soot-covered face. The soot had been his fault, if he was being honest. After all, poking his head through that one pipe probably hadn't been a good idea.

But he just couldn't get them out of his head.

Katniss, Beetee, both strapped to wires in the infirmaries of Thirteen, still unconscious as they suffered the toll of the arena, the price of survival.

And they were the lucky ones.

Johanna, Peeta, Tigris, Willuna, all trapped in the Capitol, their fates unknown, their lives in a constant threat.

And Annie was with them.

He wanted to reach out to her, wanted to hug her and end whatever sorrows and torturous moments she could possibly be facing, wanted to spend just one more moment with her.

But she was in the clutches of the Capitol, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The helplessness, the inability to act, the vagueness of Coin's words whenever he tried to bring up Annie's rescue.

All of it drove Finnick insane.

Twirling the tiny piece of rope in his hands, his fingers bruised and in creases after hours, no, days, of the repeated action, his mind felt absolutely dull, as if all the happiness had been sucked out of him, all the life and energy drained away with each passing day that he spent worrying about Annie.

After all, she was one of the few people who understood.

Finnick bit his lip, his gaze shifting to the little locket in his pocket, one Nemo's brother had brought to him from District Four shortly after he had arrived here at Thirteen, a ragged man with his left arm missing.

"They were bombed down," he had told him.

Finnick had merely stared at him, struck with disbelief at his words.

Bombed down?

But the poor man hadn't been able to relay much information other than as he was fleeing San Francisco, he saw a hovercraft dropping a bomb into the heart of the Victors' Village, a loud, deafening scream of a Destroyer of Worlds right as it exploded into a fiery vengeance, turning everything in its proximity into rubble and ash, a testament to the fire and fury of Snow.

Death was almost certain, but the kill count of the bomb was beyond the knowledge of anyone in Thirteen.

Or so President Coin claimed.

"Annie Cresta is the only confirmed survivor of the attack, as per our Capitolite sources," she had informed him. "We will handle the situation accordingly."

And yet, no action had been taken.

Finnick gritted his teeth, staring hopelessly at the dim lights above him, the ones that drew back horrible memories of being in the mansion of Arcadia Killjoy all those years ago, as well as in the summer villa of Filippa Oarman, another cruel buyer who had been especially despicable to him.

He hated this place.

Gone were the days when he could roam freely across the bright, sunny beaches of Four.

Gone were the days when he could plunge into the cool, azure waters of the ocean, basking in the refreshing waves as they carried him like an infinite, blue mattress.

Gone were the days when he could lie down on the pier next to Annie, laughing and sharing their best barnacle jokes as the sun set on the horizon, illuminating the sky with a mosaic of warm colours that provided the perfect backdrop for the dance of birds and dolphins frolicking about in the distance.

Now, he was confined to this strict, underground regime.

His boots thudded loudly against the steel, polished floors of these bunkers, forcing Finnick to lighten his steps, slowing him down significantly in an attempt to maintain a low profile. His left hand traced the walls of this empty corridor, the purple ink of his daily schedule tattooed on his arm shimmering like an unwanted birthmark. He hadn't thought of adhering to it for now, not when his mind was left paralysed in fear, caught in a vice-like grip by a wave of anxiety towards Annie's safety. Of course, one day he would have to comply, to fall in line and be just another one of their faceless soldiers.

But that day was not today.

His foot nearly slipped on a tiny puddle of water, and his face scrunched up into a melancholic frown, his eyes drooping sadly at the sight of it. A few tiny pieces of green stuff that strongly resembled seaweed swirled within it, and the water bore a slightly fishy aroma to it.

Perhaps it had been a spillage of soup, a rare event here since any form of wastage was heavily frowned upon.

Whatever it was, its mere presence brought back haunting memories of the sea. Finnick blinked back a tear that was starting to form in his eye, a lump quickly forming in his throat as the dimly-lit glows of nostalgic memories from an unreachable past began to burn gaping holes through his heart.

It was all too much for him to swallow.

Quickly moving forward, he could hear faint voices in the distance, down the corridor, tiny unintelligible chatters of untold mysteries and secrets. Instantly, he could feel his chest prickling with a bubbling curiosity, and as he drew closer, the voice of President Coin herself became apparent. She sounded exasperated, going so far as to sounding slightly informal and unprofessional, which was a rare oddity for someone of her stature. He slipped towards a large door, sealed shut, but Coin's voice penetrated through it, allowing Finnick to make out what she had to say as he pressed his ear against the door.

After all, he would never pass up the chance to learn a teeny tiny new secret.

At that moment, it was not Coin who was speaking, but rather Boggs. He seemed to be in the midst of an argument with her, protesting something she had said quite strongly, but she refused to budge.

What Finnick heard next would alter his perception of District Thirteen forever.

He learnt about Coin's true intentions, and realised that she was no different from Snow himself.

A long silence thundered across the carriage, echoing and rippling through the air like waves of ocean water. Katniss, however, did not hear this silence. No, all she could hear was Finnick's final screams as he was brought down by the lizard mutts, resonating through her head like a cursed audio tape.

There would be no respite from the curse that the Victors had to bear for the rest of their lives.

"Finnick..." Peeta tried to utter, but his voice, once so reliable, was now in a state of disarray just like his heart, unable to function.

"He deserved better," Katniss reiterated, speaking in a low voice tinged with deathly sorrow.

Slowly, the silence began to ebb away, and the dark gloom that hung about in the air danced its way out in a slow waltz, allowing Peeta to find the strength to tear his eyes off of Finnick's youthful face and flip the page. The next Victor was a fairly tall boy with a mop of wavy black hair and dark brown eyes that gazed sullenly ahead. He had a pale complexion, almost as if he was scared to face the crowd before him, which, judging by the domed roof of the Montgomery estate jutting out as a blurred feature in the background, was from District One. One hand was jammed into his pocket, the other gripped tightly onto a mustard yellow stress ball, squeezing it as if his life was at stake. "Ampere Chang."

VICTORS

District 1-Sapphire Huntington(4), Onyx Hibonite(9), Franc Montgomery(14), Crystal Montgomery(21), Sterling Jones(25), Luxe Carmichael(36), Geneva Cooper(37), Cartier Cooper(44), Valkyrie Montgomery(54), Gloss Irvine(63), Cashmere Irvine(64)

District 2-Ragnar Sveinsson(5), Reyna Boudicca(6), Draco Hadley(10), Scipio MacAllister(17), Freya Carson(22), Hercules Nichols(28), Julia Dawson(39), Brutus Gunn(42), Lyme Sveinsson(45), Evan Fortis(55), Enobaria Golding(61)

District 3-Nikola Johnson(13), Gadget Schroeder(24), Beetee Latier(40), Wiress Jansen(47)

District 4-Marina Bluebell(1), Mags Flanagan(11), Jolien Fisher(31), Timmy Fisher(32), Iris Fisher(33), Rafael Fisher(34), Coral Thiller(41), Poseidon Nakamura(58), Nemo Williams(62), Finnick Odair(65)

District 5-Shocker Crimson(8), Switch Kim(19), Flash Morrison(27), Porter Tripp(38), Marie Meredith(52)

District 6-Ford Hamilton(20), Kimi Bentley(51), Audi Lando(59)

District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26), Birch Davison(35), Blight Gavin(53), James Silva(60)

District 8-Woof Casino(16), Calico Pepper(48), Cecelia Rheys(56)

District 9-Gwendolyn Whitfield(18), Laurel Flamsteel(29), Miller Thompson(49)

District 10-Ringo Alvarez(7), John Gatwick(23), Mare Trybull(43), Colt Dias(57)

District 11-Orchid Bloom(12), Seeder Crue(30), Chaff Mitchell(46)

District 12-Axel Millar(3), Haymitch Abernathy(50)

Victors that are underlined are deceased.

A/N: Alright, I know what I have to say here, and that is that I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. Sorry for disappearing like that. Sorry for losing motivation and shelving this as an occasional side project. Sorry for seemingly ignoring all of you dear readers. Sorry for coming back with this short, rather disappointing chapter. Sorry for not doing what is undoubtedly a favourite amongst the canon Victors little justice. I'm sorry. For everything. And I hope you can forgive me.

Cheers, Rafa