Work Text:
The paddleboard bobbed in the calm of the skinny waterway, gliding smoothly underneath the overhead branches of willows, myrtles, and oaks. Swamp rose bloomed in the shimmering summer heat, pops of color along the green and muddy banks. The sun against the leaves dappled the greenish water. Cicadas whined.
Finnick dipped the paddle into the water, and the board slid forward.
Directly in front of his feet, his daughter Maggie sat cross-legged, her grey-blue eyes taking in everything. Her dark brown hair was temporarily captured in a ponytail, but he didn’t think that would last long. She glanced up at him, her gaze steady, before she looked back out at the waterway. Overhead, a pelican flew out to the east, heading to the sea.
It was one of those days that Finnick couldn’t stand to be inside, even if it was his own house. He had to get out, away, sink his toes in the sand or get out on the water. The boys had been at school and Annie had been working at the clinic when the feeling came on him, so he had taken Maggie and left the cottage. He had sent Annie a message that they were going to go explore out on the waterways; there were dozens of them around the village where they lived in what was formally District Four.
For so long, Finnick had been kept indoors like a cockatiel, pretty and preening, a pet. Sometimes being inside still made him antsy. Going outdoors whenever he felt like it reminded him that he had that choice now. He wasn’t a cockatiel, he was an osprey and the Capitol had almost made him forget that.
Maggie was happy to go with him. She always wanted to be on or in the water, so an afternoon out on the paddleboard was a great day in her book.
While this journey was calm, Finnick stayed alert. You couldn’t count out the bears, snakes, coyotes, and alligators that lived along the coast. There was also the rare freshwater shark, a delicacy in the former Capitol that District Four had been forced to contend with. The waterway was beautiful but possibly risky, like everywhere else in their world. Living anywhere on the continent came with its own set of dangers.
Behind them, out from the overgrowth of the waterway, an achingly blue cloudless sky stretched over the horizon. Small fishing boats dotted the water out in the distance, and people waded around shoals and sand bars to dig for clams. The shrimp boats would be going out later.
Finnick took them deeper into the waterway, which grew cooler since it was shielded from the sun. Maggie leaned back against one of his legs. Dragonflies flitted around them, and one landed at the nose of the paddleboard, resting for a moment before taking off again.
As they rounded a corner, the waterway widened in front of them. A tiny rowboat was nestled up to the banks, and an older pair of fishermen lifted their heads, eyebrows raising. One of them lifted a hand as Finnick and Maggie passed by. Finnick nodded back, and Maggie lifted her hand too, the customary silent greeting of fisherfolk.
Passing through, Finnick took a branch-off from the main waterway, going off down a small corridor. Maggie stretched her legs out in front of her and yawned, and he easily balanced the board to compensate the switch as she curled up. It baffled him sometimes how much trust his kids put in him. Maggie thought he was some kind of superhero, that nothing could go wrong when he was around; he knew that wouldn’t always last.
They drifted along past the fronds of saw palmettos, following the bends and curves in the water.
Finnick shielded his eyes as they passed an open spot in the foliage. The sun beat down for a moment on his bare back. He took a deep, calming breath. He could be outside as long as he wanted. No one would tell him to go back inside without him having a choice in the matter. They couldn’t dress him up in suits or rags or whatever they pleased.
Couldn’t cut his hair or force it to grow out. Couldn’t give him tattoos one week and laser them away the next on a whim of fashion. Couldn’t make him watch kids die. Couldn’t—
He took another deep breath, banishing the memories.
No one owned him anymore. And no one would ever own Annie or his children or anyone else’s children thanks to the Hunger Games ever again.
A squeaking noise up ahead made him dip the paddle into the water to slow the board down. The squeaking was followed by chittering and a light splash. Kneeling down, Finnick made himself small, or, well, as small as he could being a tall muscled guy. He shook Maggie’s shoulder gently. When she stirred awake, he held a finger to his mouth, the universal sign for quiet. She copied him, putting her own finger to her mouth.
More chittering ahead made her perk up. Her eyes shone bright as she looked up at him, her hand tapping against the back of his in anticipation. Grinning, he held his finger to his lips as he sat down behind her. She copied him again, puffing out her cheeks. He smothered a laugh and silently dipped the paddle into the water, navigating the paddleboard forward.
They entered a shadowed alcove of the water around the next bend, both of them still and quiet. Ahead of them, a family of otters paused in their play, wary of the strange bipeds who had intruded on their games.
There were a bunch of them, quite a few adults and a passel of fluffier pups. Both of Maggie’s hands slid up over her mouth, probably to remind herself to not make any noise. Finnick looked away from the otters and so did Maggie as the board floated forward. It bumped against the bank.
As they stayed still, the otters eventually went back to playing. Some were sliding down the muddy bank and into the river while others splashed around in the water or chased each other across the banks. Maggie leaned against his legs. If you had asked a younger him what he thought he would be doing as an adult, he never would have said spending time with his daughter watching otters play.
The tension he had been feeling all afternoon loosened fully as Maggie snuggled his arm.
She drew him into the here and now and kept him with her, drifting on the waterways of home and this unimagined future.
He sighed, letting the past momentarily swirl away. Maggie turned and lifted her finger to her lips, grey-blue eyes glinting with good humor. He mimicked her the way she had done earlier, puffing out his cheeks. When she unexpectedly reached out and squished his face, his startled laugh sent the otters diving into the water and spiraled his daughter into carefree giggles.