A/N: Phew! I hope you enjoy this! I really enjoy writing it.
Updates should be about once a week or so; maybe more because I'm on Spring Break right now. This won't be a long story though. Thanks!
OH. And obviously... I don't own The Hunger Games, but it would be awesome if I did.

When he finally arrived back in District 4, his home, his family was waiting for him—his mom and dad, but one of them was missing.

He didn't realize it then, but he should have. He should have sensed it by the puffiness of their eyes, but he didn't. He had assumed the tears were for his homecoming. He was wrong.

Mags held his close and kissed his forehead before helping him down from the train. She warned him; warned him that Snow was not pleased with his actions. He had no idea.

He ran to them; embraced them both at once. They stood there for an immeasurable amount of time; crying and holding one another. Mr. and Mrs. Odair never thought they'd see their song again. They never thought they'd be looking into his eyes; his eyes that matched the color of the sea exactly.

After they give short interviews, but before the cameras have granted them privacy—a word he will soon learn no longer exists—he asked a question. He didn't know it yet, but this question will bring with it a consequence he never saw coming, but he should have.

"What time is it?" He asked his parents, still oblivious to the sadness in their eyes.

"3 o'clock, son," his father answered. He ushers for them all to leave; head home. He wanted to tell his son about this in private, but it's too late. They knew it was coming; he even knew deep down.

"Where's Crystal? I mean… school's out and she doesn't work on…" he didn't finish the sentence. He knew, before the sentence even finished in his mind.

The cameras caught it all: The agonizing scream, the thick river of tears that covered his face, the racking sobs that terrorized his body. No matter how hard he fought the ground, bruising his knuckles; tugging out his hair—he still looked beautiful. No camera would dare miss out on this.

Crystal Sage Odair, his protective older sister/beloved confidant, was murdered. She had been murdered because her baby brother saved a 12-year-old District 10 girl from drowning on the first night of his Games. This was exactly what Mags had warned him of, and this was all it took for him to fall.

His parents explained it to be a tragic fishing accident, but even they knew better. The Odairs weren't strangers to tragedies related to Victors.

The reporters would give their condolences for their loss and pat Finnick on the shoulder. They'd tell him he's strong, he's a fighter, and that he'll be OK.

What is OK when you've won the Games and you're still losing?
He once wrote that in a journal they found in his house in Victors Village.

For two years he'll be "safe" in District 4; two years he'd spend doing absolutely nothing. He'd receive invitations to the Capitol for Games, but he'd decline. Snow hadn't shown his disapproval yet, but he knew Snow would talk send for him after his 16th birthday; Mags had expressly warned him of this.

His birthday was two days away and Mags took him out on her boat. This was common for him, after he won and before. They'd sometimes go out for hours; other times for days. They'd drift on the ocean and she would fill him in on the happenings in the Capitol, especially pertaining to him. They thought they were safe, but the Capitol had eyes and ears everywhere; especially around Victors. Mags was always careful about her words.

"They always thought you were beautiful, but now…" her words trailed off at the end, a side-effect of her recent stroke.

He'd look at her with such innocence, although he killed 13 children in his Games—a record for all history of The Hunger Games—and had his sister murdered to teach him a lesson; he always kept that innocence through all of that. He could have never known he would soon lose that too, and to the highest bidder.

"Finn, come 'ere. Sit down." He did as he was told and sat on her lap.

Mags had practically raised his mother when his grandmother, Rosemarie, passed away suddenly. The two of them had been best friends all their lives. When Mags' husband, Gregory, died Rosemarie welcomed her into her home already full of children. Mags refused to live in Victors Village or succumb to the vices like most Victors, so she spent her "winnings" on taking care of Rosemarie, her children, and soon enough her grandchildren—especially Finnick. Mags had lost too many people to "accidents" after winning; she would do her best to spare Finnick as much as she could.

"What happens when you turn 16, my boy?"

"You become an adult?" He'd say sarcastically.

"Yes, Finn, an adult," she'd pause and give him that all too familiar knowing, but sad smile.
"And when you're an adult, they'll be able to act on that hunger they get when they see you…"

He would nod, feigning understanding; she wouldn't elaborate. He would thank her for that. He would keep his innocence for a few more weeks, until he'd be forced to go to the Capitol for the Games. He wouldn't be mentoring for 2 more years; not till he was surely older than all the other tributes. He would begin learning this year about mentoring. At least that's what he thought.

His birthday came and went that year. No celebration, no fun; just another day passing. He came back from the Games a different person; one who didn't celebrate his living. After all, the only person he would want to share these days with was always Crystal. She was gone, and slowly his other friends would fall to waste. He was too cold toward them; his joking personality replaced by something much more dark and hard.

Some would describe him as stone; cold and fierce. However, stone is permanent. Stone can be cut and cracked—eventually turning to powder, falling through your fingers—but it will always be stone. No, he would change. He was wood; identical to stone in strength, though in different ways, but able to change. To burn. And burn he did.

A few more weeks would pass and he would find himself stumbling across the District 4 stage at the Reaping ceremony. This would be his second time doing so, but it would still feel so foreign to him. Ariel Montgomery and Ray Steiner would be reaped. He knew neither of them. The weight of their death when they perished during the bloodbath at the Cornucopia would still befall him. He made District 4 a target; he knew this.

Only one more person would ever win from District 4; but if you ever knew Annie Cresta, you may use a term besides "winning" to describe her fate.

Finnick Odair would feel every single one of their deaths—not just those of his tributes, but every single tribute's death. All of them would leave a mark on his conscience. All of them would help him to fuel the future rebellion.

But none of that could compare to the fire that was Johanna Mason.

Snow would send for him later that night. He'd be lying awake; watching Ariel's throat being ripped open; replaying the sound of Ray's laughter as he went into shock from the knife wound in his back. All of it would plague him for a lifetime. Snow didn't care.

A knock came at the door. Finnick looked to the clock: 3:17AM. Slowly he'd make his way to the door and open it, only to find nothing—nothing but a small red envelope with a stark white rose clipped to it.

Finnick, come to the Remake Center.

I would like to make a deal with you.

-Snow

He would drop the note to the ground and instinctively run to Mags room. She would offer no advice other than to agree. She'd kiss his head and hold him close, just like before the stepped off the train on his way home. He knew something was wrong. He always knew, but it was always too late.

He'd make his way to the Remake Center, dragging his feet and hiding his face from the other guests walking around the Training Center. He was already a celebrity; accustomed to the looks. The hunger in their eyes as he watched them imagining him undressed. He knew what they wanted. He never thought they'd get it.

Upon his arrival, the scent of roses and blood almost overpowers him; causing him to gag momentarily. As he contemplates turning back to his room, the door swings wide open.

"Mr. Odair, please, have a seat."

Finnick could not see where Snow was, but that voice was unmistakable. He took a seat hesitantly on the plush loveseat under the single dimly lit lamp in the room.

"You said you want to make a deal, Mr. President?" Finnick asked curiously.

They say 'curiosity killed the cat' for a reason.

Still unseen to Finnick, Snow chuckled.
"Straight down to business, are we? Well, in that case; yes. I have a deal to make with you, Mr. Odair. I strongly urge you to consider it."

All at once, the other lights blink on. The blinding light slightly incapacitates Finnick for a second while his eyes adjust. The Remake Center he's been to plenty of times is different than he's ever seen it. The walls are filled with giant blacked out screens emitting an ominous black light.

"I'm all ears," said Finnick in his normal smart-ass attitude.

Snow, remaining speechless, turned his attention to one of the screens. Finnick did as well, still curious. Without a warning, the screen turned on.

Finnick sat helplessly in the Remake Center as he watched the recording of his sister being ripped to shreds by stealthy peacekeepers. It only took minutes for the five men to surround her and mutilate her body.

First, there was a slash across her abdomen, sending her writhing in pain and screaming; then, a clean cut to her knee, slicing it all the way through the bone. As she laid there, blood pouring from her stump of a leg, she kept repeating a single word: "Finnick." Even when the men slit her throat, she continued to mouth his name, though all that could be heard was a gurgle. Then all at once, it stopped. The light from her eyes disappeared and her shallow breathing stopped.

Finnick could not tear his eyes away the whole time.