(A/N): Hello. Sorry it's been so long since I've updated…you can blame it on end of the year tests and projects. But all this time away has given me a chance to think about the future of Red Tide, and with the helpful comment from dorrah, I'm hoping you'll enjoy the way I've written this chapter.

~teacuppig

Twelve days. Nearly two weeks. That's how long it took Finnick Odair, tribute from District 4, to rise as the victor of the 65th annual Hunger Games. Now, after the hovercraft had pulled him out of the arena, covered in mud, sweat, and injuries, he wonders if he would have been better off dead.

He had killed in cold blood; there was no way to sugarcoat it. And though he hides it well, each dead tribute had left a searing scar on his heart. Most painful of all, every time Finnick had killed, he thought of Annie Cresta. Annie, shaking her head in pity and disgust as he speared a tribute in the neck. Annie, begging him to stop as he smiled viciously at a young boy caught in a net. Yes, she had given Finnick hope, but she had also given him an incentive; an incentive that lead him to take lives with cruelty and malice.

"Almost home," his mentor, an almost eighty year old woman named Mags, says, patting his knee reassuringly. Mags's speech is slightly garbled. She had, after all, just recently recovered from a stroke.

Finnick nods and slouches deeper into his chair, resting his head against the tinted window of the hovercraft. His thoughts are immediately filled with comforting memories of District 4; lounging on the beach with Annie, fishing at a secluded area near the pier, the few moments of happiness with his father. He wonders if anyone will be there to see him when he arrives. As a victor, he is dangerous and unattainable. Will his many admirers recognize these new traits and finally leave him alone?

After a few more minutes, the hovercraft lands with a jolt, waking him from his ponderings. "Time to go," Mags mumbles, as Finnick takes several tentative steps to the already opened door. "Just smile and wave, just like in the Capitol."

But it's not at all like the Capitol, Finnick wants to point out. District 4 was his home, and the people there like you because of your character and kindness, not on how much blood was on your hands. Nevertheless, he walks out of the hovercraft and onto the grounds of his district with the grace and ease of a victor.

It seems like all of Panem has shown up, there are so many people. Finnick recovers from his shock quickly though, and grins at his audience, as Mags had told him to. He scans the crowd, skimming his eyes over the mass of people until his heart sinks with disappointment. Neither Annie nor his father has come; they're probably as sickened by him as he was.

He begins to walk through the crowd, towards the car that would take him to his new house in the Victors' Village. Suddenly Finnick hears a few people in the back of the group yelp, and he turns his head in their direction. And there she is, Annie Cresta herself, pushing her way impatiently past other spectators. She is tiny and young compared to the adults in the crowd, but to Finnick, her eyes look weary and ancient, though still beautiful.

"Sorry!" she exclaims when she shoves past a particularly grumpy looking man. "I'm sorry, that's my friend up there."

Finnick's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he stands still and silent as she strides over to him. How could she still want to know me? After everything she's seen, after everything I've done? He thinks.

She moves her eyes to his, and smiles warmly. Finnick tries to smile back; one of his "everything's-just-fine smiles, but it ends up looking more like a confused grimace.

Still, Annie comes forward, tripping over one last spectator and landing in Finnick's arms. Smiling still, she wraps her arms around him, and maybe he would have returned the embrace, if he was not so afraid to have her too close to him. He stands stiffly as she pulls back and squeezes his arms. He is too wary; the Games are still fresh in his mind, and he would never forgive himself if he hurt Annie in one of his panic attacks.

"Hey," she says concernedly. He blinks at her, but does not respond. He hasn't spoken to anyone since he was crowned victor; other than Caesar Flickerman in his interviews and occasionally Mags.

At the moment, he is slightly aware that the crowd has dispersed, leaving he and Annie alone in front of the hovercraft, where an attendant is helping Mags carry her luggage to the car.

"Finnick," Annie tries again, "you came back. I-I was so scared…for you, I mean." She rambles on, tears pooling softly in her eyes. "I just…well, I'm really glad your home."

She looks at Finnick expectantly, but then the driver of his ride to the Victors' Village honks the horn; signaling Finnick to get in.

He frowns, not ready to leave Annie quite yet. There are still many things he needs to say; that he wants to say, so he takes her arm and gently pulls her to the car. She doesn't object, and soon they are both sitting in the spacious vehicle, where Mags is waiting patiently.

And as they move towards his new home, his new life, Finnick can only focus on Annie's hand, small and soft, entwined tightly with his.