I do not own The Hunger Games.

Finnick Odair is precious.

The Girl With The Green Eyes

All Of Finnick Odair's Sweet Little Lies


And then, after all his promises to never leave her, never abandon her, never to go away, Finnick must do exactly that.

He has been summoned to The Capitol.

A wealthy patron has requested the 'enjoyment' of his 'company'.

The request comes with the vaguest aroma of white roses, President Snow's favorite.

And that's how Finnick knows he can't say no.

It will be a few days.

He considers just leaving, telling Mags and asking her, begging her . . .

She'll understand if it's Mags. It'll be fine.

. . . to tell Annie.

But he knows The Look Mags will give him, the fact that she would be right without ever saying a word she couldn't.

Knows that even though he can be a coward to himself, he can't be a coward to her, Mags or Annie.

Especially Annie.

So he . . .

"I have to leave for a couple of days. I have to go to the Capitol."

. . . goes and bites the proverbial bullet.

And Annie, there in the bright sunshine and warm ocean foam, predictably fades down out of her seeming peace and joy, drains to pale and lackluster.

"Oh. Really?"

Away from the hesitantly hopeful life she has been rebuilding for herself with the heavy support of those who care for her.

"Do you have to go?"

Voice so tiny and fragile it as to be practically lost in the dull roar of the ocean waves.

And Finnick tries to remain stoic.

"Yes. I'm sorry. It'll only be a few days."

And she nods in defeat, eyes overbright and liquid in their sudden evident fear.

"Alright."

And Finnick heart full of ache and stomach full of acid . . .

"Goodbye. Finnick."

"Goodbye, Annie."

. . . goes.


"Finnick, darling, when are you going to introduce us to your new Victor?"

It is a massive party. Anyone who is anyone there.

All dressed absolutely to the limits of fashion and style.

Food, music, entertainment, all over-the-top, bizarre Capitol-esque.

"Oh, yes, that pretty little thing with the auburn hair and the green eyes."

And Finnick Odair . . .

"Wasn't she so . . . homespun and fresh? What we could do with her here in the Capitol."

. . . is right in the middle of everything.

"What was her name? Abby? Atty?"

As he is required to be.

"Amelsa?"

They're practically pressing in, this gaggle of Capitol socialites.

There's the flamboyantly dressed Rodrick, completely outfitted in slick, silken yellow from head to toe.

Even the close cropped hair of his head is dyed lemon yellow, his heavily manicured eyebrows.

Only his sweeping handlebar moustache is allowed a brownish tint resembling normal.

Though for his advancing age, probably also Capitol engineered.

"Attrina?"

The ebony-skinned Vicone, exquisitely exotic bone structure.

Highlighted by carefully contoured blues and greens and golds.

Somehow all working together perfectly to make her one of the most sought after androgoneus creatures in attendance.

"Avolina."

His own 'date', a lovely, young, voluptous woman.

Draped in what he can only describe as clothed nude.

Shimmering silver and clear silk, trimmed white feathers.

Jet black hair swept back from her pale oval face.

A Far Eastern beauty so exquisite no one in the room can hardly bear to look anywhere else.

Except for Finnick.

Who, of course, has been outfitted to match.

He is her birthday gift, he must be nothing but preened and sultry perfection.

And the rest of them, an eye-blistering menagrie of Capitol citizens, well-to-dos, cream of the crop.

And Finnick holds his smile because he must, wishing he could be almost anywhere . . .

Well, not the arena.

. . . but here.

And delivers the name he does not wish to speak here in this unworthy company.

"Annie. Cresta."

They would find it out anyway.

And he must not be suspect in caring for her in any way.

She must be protected, as much as anyone can in Panem.

"Yes. That's it. Annie Cresta."

Don't speak her name. Don't soil it.

"So, . . . Finnick Odair, when will we meet her? Surely, she's going to be joining us for our soirees here in the Capitol?"

Not on your life, not on any of your lives.

And he decides to play the only card he's got.

"Oh, am I not enough entertainment for you, Tannesh?"

A dashing smile, complete with dimples, a suggestive wink.

And of course, some foodstuff popped dismissively into his mouth.

It's so easy, they're so easy, those older ones so desperate to be seen as still young, relevant, desirable.

They melt in his practiced gaze, in his hands, like butter.

"Oh dear darling delectable Finnick, you are a morsel too divine for words."

He broadens his flirtatious smile for the show of it.

"But, you know, life is a banquet. And one finds one's self in curiosity to sample many delightful dishes along the way."

And he feels his gorge rise as this tittered comment.

Chokes it back down.

And . . .

I'm sorry, Annie.

I'm doing it to save you from them.

And it's not entirely a lie.

. . . adopts a gossipy, secretive expression now upon his person.

As if it pains him so but he simply must tell them, these his closest friends.

For the moment anyway.

"Well, I haven't been telling just anyone, and you can't tell anyone but . . ."

Adds a dash of muted sorrow for those dear departed dead children who lost the games even as they won them.

"She's not quite ready for . . . society yet."

And they eat it up, eat it right out of his hand.

Practically salivating and panting.

"Whatever do you mean? She's still recovering from the Games?"

"She took a nap under a bush and then went for a swim. That's hardly something to recover so long from, is it?"

"She didn't even fight."

"I mean, honestly, it's been months."

Thoughtless and callous, it makes him want to punch them in their cruel, empty, little heads.

But he has contrived this ruse and he's going to play his part to the end.

"Honey, it was a surprise to us all. Trust me."

For Annie. The protection of Annie.

"But sadly, no. The aftereffects are much, much, more than that."

He takes a breath to build the tension.

Knows all eyes of this little Capitol group are on him and that everything he says will be spread outward like quiet, secret wildfire.

Throughout the Capitol.

And the Districts.

And that he's really doing all he can, even more so than ever, to save her from his fate.

"She's gone crazy."

Audible gasps, their hungry, greedy curiosities definitely aroused.

"No!"

"Really?"

"How dreadful!"

"Tell us, Finnick, tell us."

He feels sick to his stomach, he may have to vomit soon, perhaps he can blame it on that repulsive pink liquid they so love to pass around among themselves at these gatherings.

The one that makes you purge so you may continue to binge.

He's betraying Annie, Annie who's done nothing wrong, never asked for any of this.

Annie, who trusts him.

"She talks to people who aren't there. Gibbers, babbles."

"She won't come out of her own closet, huddles in there, terrified of the outside world."

"She refuses to eat, drink. She won't even bathe and the stench, whew, . . ."

"It really is an assault to the senses, believe you me."

All of these things have been, at some point, technically true of the inward anguish and misery Annie endured directly after the returning home.

Yet none of them are in the overall experience of Annie Cresta.

That beautiful, gentle, sweet girl sitting on the beach.

Timidly letting the waves flow through her fingers.

Annie with her smile and the way the light and the ocean mix in her eyes.

The way she sometimes finds the burgeoning freedom to tilt her face up to the sky, let the sun bath her in healing warmth.

The fact that she made him the necklace he now wears.

"Finnick Odair, what is that divine necklace, I simply must have one!"

"My apologies, dear Chastain, but this is a one of a kind, there is none else like it in the world."

That she talked to the Avoxes.

"But now, the girl, what else can you tell us of her?"

"Yes, it's quite dreadful. You can't even hold a decent conversation with her, she laughs at the most inappropriate moments, cries all the time-"

"Oh, I had a friend of mine who had their tear ducts lasered shut. Said she didn't want her makeup to run."

"You know, we could see perhaps if there are some more adventurous patrons of the Capitol who would like to make her acquaintance. Not everyone prefers to be doused in honey and licked clean. Some like it dirty and dangerous."

Yes, he knows. He's been sold to some . . .

"Come on, my sweet little poochie, let's take you for a walk, eh? Now where's Mommy's leash?"

. . . of them.

And Finnick, bile thick in his throat, pretends to consider this new and gruesome possibility.

"Everyone is desirable to someone, you know, dear Finnick."

And prays he's done enough to save her from his fate.

Save her from . . .

"Still, what a disappointment. "

"She's such a pretty little thing."

"So much potential."

"Oh, I know, honey. I know."

"Ooh, look, drinks!"

. . . The Capitol.


Difficult to write this. Almost as difficult as it is for Finnick to be a part of it.

Anyway, let me know what you think.

:)