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Disclaimer: Annie, Finnick, the Hunger Games and anything you recognise belongs to Suzanne Collins. All the rest is mine.

Prologue – Wishes I Remember

The first time I spoke to Finnick I was eleven, and helping my brother, Marcin, carry his share of the week's catch up the Main Dock. Marcin's a deck hand on one of the big fishing boats so he gets to bring home a small portion of every week's catch, even though he's only 15 and you don't normally start on a ship until you're a bit older. My father knew the Captain personally, and asked if he had a spot for a young boy eager to work on a boat, and Marcin got the job within the week.

Finnick was 13, and it was the year before he was chosen as a tribute for the 65th Hunger Games. He was surrounded by a flock of girls (and several women!) who were giggling away at something he had said. I briefly remember Sarlie saying something about "that gorgeous boy Finnick" a few weeks ago in school, who "always seemed to have a crowd of female admirers" following him wherever he went, whether it be in school, on the docks to the boats he worked on, or to his home on the north side of District 4. I thought Sarlie was exaggerating, but judging by the flock of girls surrounding him, she wasn't. Sarlie said she thought he was stuck-up, he probably thought he was better than everyone because he always had people fawning over him. She still thought he was dead handsome though, even if he was a snob. The few times I had seen him around I tended to agree. He was always smirking over his parade of lovesick women, strutting around like he owned the district. Which, of course, he didn't. We belong to the capitol, and they don't let us forget it, even if we are one of the bigger, wealthier, luckier districts. We have Peacekeepers just like everyone else.

Finnick and his crowd of twittering idiots were heading towards us up the Main Dock, and Marcin and I had to move over as far as we could without falling into the ocean to let them pass. Finnick swaggered past me with his admirer's pushing and shoving each other to be close to him. Someone mistook me for one of the crowd, shoved my basket of fish out of my hands, and all over the dock.

"Oh! My fish!" I gasped. The fish were scatted over the width of the dock in the dirt and sand that covered it, about to be trampled by the herd of lovesick women chasing after Finnick Odair. Marcin was too far up the Main Dock and separated by girls to help me. I don't think he'd even noticed what had happened.

I dropped to my knees and hurriedly began scooping fish into my basket before they were trampled or stolen. I reached for fish and my hand hit someone else's as they reached for it too. I looked up to shout at them for stealing, and stared right into the sea-green eyes of Finnick Odair, who shot me a winning smile and placed the fish neatly in my basket, before reaching for another.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"You dropped your fish, I'm helping you pick them up before they're trampled." He replied easily.

I stared at him in disbelief for a second, before grabbing the last of the fish. "Well… thank-you" I stammered.

"No problem!" he grinned, before strolling off down the dock to join a group of boys who were fishing off the edge, while his gaggle of wishful lovers tittered about how "nice" and "thoughtful" it was of him to stop and pick up my fish for me.

I stared after him for a bit, wondering why he bothered to stop and help me, before running after my brother, who hadn't even noticed I wasn't behind him.

I think I'll always remember this moment, when Finnick proved all my thoughts and opinions about him wrong. He wasn't a snob; he didn't think he was better than me. If he did I expect he wouldn't have helped me, probably would have even laughed at the small girl scurrying around in the dirt and sand of the dock after a basket of fish. He was genuinely kind and almost charming even.

Every time I saw Finnick after that I always seemed to drop something, spill something, or knock something over. I spent half the time around him on my knees, picking up whatever was littered all over the ground because of me. I dropped books, clothes, food. Spilt water, milk and berries. Knocked over people, chairs, fishing baskets. I even tripped myself a few times. And Finnick would be there, grinning at me, helping me pick up whatever I'd scattered on the ground, even if it was me. He'd say something like "do I dazzle you that much?", "not going to faint at the sight of me, are you?", or "didn't you trip last time too?"

I'm sure I embarrassed myself in every way possible without meaning too. Sarlie noticed my problem every time Finnick was near, and began to tease me about liking him.

She stopped talking about him the day he was picked.

I remember watching him grinning in the crowd. His grin slipped off when his name was called. Someone wailed in despair as he climbed the stage. He turned in their direction and flashed a bright smile, a bit shaky, but still a smile.

On the day he returned, a bit battered and bruised and a haunted look in his eyes, he was still grinning. Many girls cried tears of joy that day.

Sometimes I wish we were back there, in that time where the Hunger Games and the Capitol hadn't broken us; where we didn't know pain, suffering, and despair.

Where my world wasn't filled with screams, ghosts, blood and horror. When my head wasn't filled with the memories of others and I wasn't trying to save the lives of every citizen of Panem from the future.

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