Author's Note: Hello all. Yes, I'm still alive. I've been... well, ok since it's Christmas I'll be honest, I've been procrastinating. I'm with my Dad who I haven't seen since September and simply haven't felt like writing. I open up Part 3 to write something, anything down and simply get stuck before I even begin, so I've been putting off writing because of that. But since it's Christmas Day here in Oz, I thought I'd give you all a Christmas present and presented you all with Chapter 24 which is quite light and fluffy compared to what I've been writing in previous chapters.
So please enjoy and MERRY CHRISTMAS and Happy Holidays to you all. I'll try and update again before the end of this year.

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was late and I was getting my grandmother her late night cup of tea when I heard a series of frantic knocking on our front door. This wasn't an unusual occurrence for us to have someone showing up at our door in the late hours of night. Many Victors or family members of fallen tributes come and visit Grandma at all hours of the day and night. It could have been any number of people to come calling but in my heart I knew who it was.

I set the kettle down by the stove, turning it off before leaving the kitchen, making for the front door.

My Grandmother, however, was already there, opening it and gesturing for the clearly worked up young man to come inside into the warmth of our home.

"They just don't get it Mags." The young man was muttering as he came into the front foyer, running a trembling hand threw his thick, bronze coloured hair.

I stood a little back, watching as the young man's face began to crumble, few tears escaping down his tanned bronze cheeks.

Even like this, he is still beautiful, a bronze statue of a Sea God, I thought before blushing furiously at the thought.

"I know they don't." I heard my grandmother say as she gently placed a reassuring hand onto the young man's trembling shoulders, "How can they? They weren't there, they don't know what it is like to be there and they never will."

"I don't know if I can ever go back there," I heard him whisper back weakly, his emerald eyes trained on the floor. My grandmother simply nodded at him sadly, while gesturing for me to go and pour the tea.

I nodded my head and scurried back to the kitchen taking down another mug from the shelf and setting it beside my grandmothers.

As I was pouring the tea into the mugs my grandmother and the boy came into the kitchen.

"Finnick," my grandmother said as the young man sat down heavily at our kitchen table, "I don't think you've met my granddaughter Annie before, have you?"

The young man, Finnick – but of course everyone in District Four, probably all of Panem, knew who he was, the youngest tribute to ever win the Hunger Games – shook his head but was now looking at me with interest instead of a vacant look.

I smiled shyly back at him and to my surprise – and delight – he smiled back. And from the look on his face I could tell that I wasn't only one surprised by the returned gesture.

Still feeling shy, but smiling all the while, I handed him the mug of tea which he took from me with another smile before drinking deeply from it.

"You can stay here tonight, if you like." my grandmother was saying as I handed her her mug of tea.

Finnick looked up from his mug of tea, relief obvious on his bronze face.

"Thank you Mags, thank you so, so much." He whispered. My grandmother simply smiled warmly back at him as she took a sip of her own tea.

"I'll ring your parents. Let them know where you're at while Annie shows you where you can stay tonight." Grandma said once they had finished their tea and Finnick looked close to falling asleep right there at our kitchen table. Not that I could fault him at all, it was late after all and I knew that if I was up for any longer than I already was, I would be asleep at the table.

"Thank you." He said again as he rose from the table, placing his mug carefully into the sink and gave it a quick rinse out. He did the same with my grandmother's mug.

"Show the way." He said to me, tiredness interlacing his voice and making it sound far thicker than how I had previously heard it.

I simply nodded and after a moment's thought, I took hold of his hand. His hand was huge in comparison to mine and it went stiff when I took hold of it before it relaxed once more and he allowed me to lead him out of the kitchen and to the stairs leading up to the first floor of our house.

"Is it," He started slowly as we walked up the stairs together, "is it just you and Mags?"

I smiled sadly up at him and nodded my head.

"Ever since my parents died, yes." I watched him wince and start to try and apologize.

"No, it's alright. I mean, yes, I do get sad about it from time to time, but I was real small when they passed away that I don't really remember them all that well. Plus, it's not like I'm lonely. I have Grandma and my cousins and aunts and uncles and we always have visits from the other Victors, so it's never lonely here." I was babbling. I knew that I was, I tended to babble when I was nervous, I couldn't help it.

This boy was after all a legend around District Four, ever since he returned from the 65th Hunger Games two weeks ago with my grandmother, who had acted as his Mentor during his game. Everyone in the district was in awe of him. And so was I, but I also couldn't help but be a little scared of him as well.

I had watched his game closely, even though usually, every other year, I had hidden in my room, waiting for the terrified, death filled screams to stop and for Grandma to return home to me.

I wasn't exactly sure why I had watch his game with such intensity, why I had cared so much for him to win because for him to win – even though at first that seemed unlikely due to his young age – he would have to kill all the other tributes. Which he did and very well too and I guessed that was the part of him that scared me so much.

How easily, once he had gotten his hands on his trident, it was for him to just kill his way to the top. He had won thanks to his trident, yes, but that was only because he had been using the skills that were taught to all of us from District Four from toddler years.

I wondered if that was how he had done it. Seemly looked at the other tributes and simply thought of them as large fish and that was how he had been able to kill them with such ease.

I couldn't help but shudder a little at the thought, but I still didn't let go of his hand as I led him to one of the guest bedrooms, opening the door and turning on the light before showing him inside.

The first thing he did when he entered the room was go straight for the window, opening it and breathing in deeply the salty sea air. It was several moments before he pulled his head back into the room, looking much better than he had previously as if the salty air had somehow refreshed him, returning some of his life to his young but damaged mind and body.

"Can I – can I leave this open?" He asked. He sounded so meek and looked so defenceless and childlike, so different from how he had always appeared on the television during the weeks of the Hunger Games, all cocky and confident, like no nothing or no one in all the world could possibly knock him down.

"Um, yes. I leave mine open all the time."

He looked relieved as he settle himself down on the bed but even though he appeared to be relaxed, I could see his muscles jumping at every sound or unexplained shadow that lazed its way against the floor or one of the walls.

"Can I get you anything else?" I asked. I didn't want to leave him, he still had a vulnerable look about him and I was afraid to leave him alone, but more than that I wanted to comfort him in some way, help him.

His lips quirked into a smile as he turned those brilliant green eyes of his onto me, looking me up and down.

"How old are you?" He asked instead, completely ignoring my question and catching me off guard.

"Pardon?"

"How old are you?" he repeated patiently.

"Twelve." I say simply, fighting down the bubble of fear that was forming in my belly, "I'm twelve."

He nodded his head, obviously understanding my fear where so many others didn't.

"You don't seem to be twelve. Thought you were older." I frowned at him, not sure whether or not he was making fun of me or not.

I was small for my age, but despite my small size, I was one of, if not the best, swimmer of my age group. I was fast on land too. But despite what many within our district thought, my grandmother was not training me for the Hunger Games.

No, she was simply training me for real life, since the way my parents had passed away was due to a boating accident and they had both drowned at sea. I guess that forced me to grow up a little faster than most of the other kids in the district. But with the Hunger Games looming over us for most of our lives, growing up fast is only to be expected.

"You look tired. You should probably go and head for bed." Finnick said gently, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Will you be alright?" I was worried that if I left him alone, without anyone with him, he might do something that he would later regret.

"I'll be fine," he insisted smiling but I could see that it was forced, "got to bed."

"Alright," I say slowly and carefully, "I hope you sleep well." I knew that he probably wouldn't, so did he, given the snort he made but he said nothing.

"Good night."

"Good night." He was starting to pull off his leather boots, dropping them neatly by the dresser. With another small smile, I left the room, closing the door but leaving it open just slightly, knowing from what little I had gathered on his personality so far that he didn't like to be enclosed in a too small a space, before padding lightly to my own room, just down the hall from his.

I had just finished getting ready for bed when an idea came to me. It was childish and I was expecting, as I padded quietly back up to his room, that he would shoot me down, gently of course, but it was an idea and I just hoped, that maybe, just maybe, it might just help him.

Hesitating for a brief moment outside his door, I knocked, loud enough for him to know I was there, but hopefully not loud enough to startle him and possibly cause him to panic.

"Um yes?" I heard his hesitant call from within the room.

I stuck my head around the door and saw him curled up on his side, the bedside lamp shining a soft glow around the room.

He sat up as I came, my hands clasped nervously behind my back.

"Uh, hello. Something wrong? " He asked clearly trying to sound calm and adult-like but I could also hear the worry in his tone.

I swallowed nervously before beginning to speak.

"My Grandmother gave me this to help me threw my parents death. It helped a lot, it kept my mind and hands busy and just helped me to cope with everything and I just thought that maybe it might help you too." I slowly brought out my hands from behind my back and showed him was I was holding.

"A piece of rope?" He frowned ever so slightly as he gently took the length of rope from me.

"To practice my knotting on." I explained, feeling embarrassed and worried that he wouldn't understand. "I spent hours knotting and unknotting it and," I shrugged my shoulders, feeling now silly and weak, "it helped. It helped me to relax and feel in control of things. It helped me to forget a little." As I spoke I watched him twist the rope around in his hands and after a few moments, a neat, complicated knot was formed with the rope. When it was complete I saw a tiny smile playing on his lips.

"You're not worried that I might try and hang myself or something." He teased me rather darkly. I nervously bit down on my bottom lip. Of course, I was slightly worried that he might think of doing something like that, but…

"It's not long enough for you to hang yourself. See," I took the piece of rope from him and quickly undid his knot and instead I created my very own noose.

"See," I said again, as I tried to pull the noose over my head, "not long enough."

He chuckled quietly as I did that before gently taking the noose from me and undoing it, instead created a series of little knots, that when completed would create one big, strong knot that she saw sometimes used on the sailing boats in the harbour.

I watched work the piece of rope for quite some time, watching him create the very basic of knots that all children in the district must know to more complicated knots, some that I had never seen before. But I didn't ask him where he had learnt them, guessing that a few were most likely learnt from his time in the Capital, training for his games.

It was a companionable silence as I watched him knot and unknot the rope. As tired as I was, I would have been happy to watch him knot that rope all night.

A little later, my grandmother came to check of Finnick, not seeming to be overly surprised to see me sitting quietly beside him as he knotted the piece of rope that she had given me all those years ago.

"Annie?" I jumped and from the larger movement of the bed, I guessed I wasn't the only one startled by my grandmother's sudden appearance.

"Time for bed, little one. You have school tomorrow." Grandma said and I fought back the desire to pull a face, but obviously my disgust over the prospect of going to school in the morning showed on my face because Finnick started to chuckle which quickly turned into laughter. He was laughing so hard that it took him several moments for him to calm himself down again. From looking at my grandmother face, I could see that the appearance of his laughter, a true laugh, has pleased her greatly and she shot me a warm and delighted smile.

I felt my cheeks heat up and ducked my head so that my hair now covered my warm albeit pleased face.

"Come, bed time. Finnick needs his sleep too." My grandmother said as she gently ushered me out of the room.

"Night Finnick." I said again as I waved goodnight to him. He looked up from the piece of rope I had given him and shot me a wide and magnificent grin

"Good Night Annie." His grin was so wide and so beautiful that I felt my cheeks heat up all over again, causing me to dart as fast as I could out of the room. I could still hear his laughter when I was safely inside my own room.

Author's Note: See, quite light and fluffy compared to other chapters. And I have Finnick, what a good Christmas present!
This chapter is actually made up from a one-shot - called Knots - I wrote way back, way before I started writing this and never really finished. I was stuck as to what I was going to with this chapter until I reread Knots and thought 'flashback' chapter and hence from that, this chapter was born. It's really just a filler chapter but I wanted to have some fluff (and Finnick) in this Part as it's going to obviously be the darkest and sadest of all three parts.
Anyway, Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Reviews and ideas are much loved and appreciated!

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL and HAPPY HOLIDAYS! And HAPPY NEW YEAR!