Chapter Text
The chill of the night had settled deep in Finnick’s bones, as he wandered lost through the forest, seeking… he wasn’t sure anymore. Sometimes he came out here looking for food, for weapons, for water, for safety, but so far he’d never found anything. Nothing but danger, and fear, and death. He’d come to expect it, come to react to it, almost as quickly as it appeared, so when something smacked into him, something landed on him hard and heavy and fast, he was quicker, his fist connecting with it, shoving it far from him with a loud thud.
A loud thud, and a brief moment’s pause while Finnick quickly realised he wasn’t in the dark forest from his dreams, before his ‘attacker’ started crying.
“No, wait, Kip!” Finnick exclaimed, trying to unwrap himself from his blankets and reach for his little brother, who’d fallen on the floor in a heap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
But it was too late, and Kip ran from his bedroom, tears streaming down his face, crying to their Mom, and Finnick collapsed back into his bed with a frustrated sigh, balling his fists up into his face. That was the third time this month Kip had done that, and he wasn’t sure who the bigger fool was for not learning their lesson, him or Kip.
A year ago, he would’ve gone racing after Kip, tried to apologise sincerely, tried to calm his own brother down, tried to cheer him up by being silly and funny and everything an older brother should do and be. But that was a year ago. And now he knew he’d only make it worse.
Finnick pushed himself up to sit in his bed, the sunlight streaming through his bedroom window, illuminating the room. It had been a bad night. Despite going to bed early and clearly waking up late, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all, kept awake by never ending nightmares of the Arena, of his allies, of his enemies, of everything that had gone wrong in the past six months. He knew he slept better if he slept during the day, when it felt like he was less in danger of being attacked out of the blue, when it felt like he had people watching over him, even if they didn’t. He’d come to subsist off naps. He didn’t have much other choice. You did what you had to, to survive in the Arena. And once you were out of it, you continued to just try and survive, he’d found.
He clambered out of bed, trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes, but he was pretty sure that was just a permanent part of him now, just like the nightmares and the irritability and all the other fantastic new problems he’d come home with, which his Mom gently referred to as ‘quirks’, Dad referred to cautiously as ‘eccentricities’, and Uncle Ray very jokingly referred to as his ‘brand new personality, stolen straight from a sea captain who’d been caught in too many storms’. A lot had changed in the past six months, and he made up a good amount of that.
He put on his clothes, his new clothes, which for once in his life actually fit him and didn’t consist mostly of patches to cover up all the holes. New clothes were neither here nor there for him, but the frequency at which his little brothers were needing new clothes, that was a change that he really liked. They no longer had to worry about money, so they ate so much better, and so much more, and as a result, Finnick and his brothers had been growing rapidly. Mom still insisted on using the hand-me-downs for the younger Odairs, but Finnick was getting new ones. It was, after all, his money.
He descended the stairs and made for the kitchen, the house now looking lived in, decorated and messy, as any house with five children running amok in it should, and it was now feeling a lot more like a home than when Finnick had first came across it. Living near Mags had proved quite a boon, when he was having issues, although he missed the old house. Uncle Ray still lived there, kept the house in tip top condition for them, but he was so frequently around Victor’s Village for dinner it almost felt like he was still living with them. Almost.
“Morning Finnick,” Mom greeted him as he wandered into the kitchen. Kip was still crying, still clinging to her skirt, while Merry was loudly playing on the kitchen floor. “Sleep well?”
“Hrngh. Not really,” Finnick admitted. “Sorry Kip, didn’t mean to hit you.”
Kip gave an inaudible answer into Mom’s skirt while Finnick made himself up some breakfast, trying not to take how Kip darted away from him when he got near personally, but it was hard. He knew he had no-one to blame for that but himself.
“Kip, what do you have to say back?” Mom asked Kip quietly as Finnick sat down at the table. He wished Mom didn’t make them apologise to him for it. It wasn’t their fault, he knew it wasn’t their fault, they used to wake him up by jumping on him all the time without incident, but now…
“Sorry Finnick,” Kip whimpered, before burying his face once more.
“It’s alright,” Finnick assured him, even though he could still feel the remnants of the panic from his awakening that morning. “It happens.”
Mom frowned, but didn’t say anything else to him, instead wrapping an arm around Kip. “See? It’s all okay. Why don’t you go play in the living room and I’ll go join you in a few minutes?” She suggested. Kip nodded and ran off without looking back at Finnick, who was trying to eat his cereal, despite his poor appetite for it. “Sorry, he snuck off and by the time I’d realised what had happened, it was too late.”
“Like I said, it happens,” Finnick shrugged. Mom still frowned, but she placed a hand around the back of Finnick’s head and pulled him closer to her, kissing him on the top of his head, and Finnick smiled back. It was so much harder to keep up the typical teenager pretense of not wanting his Mom’s hugs and kisses after all that had happened. “Is Dad, Uncle Ray and Marlin going to get back in time, do you think?”
Dad and Uncle Ray had kept their jobs on the boat, but Mom had quit hers so as to watch the kids full time. For the past six or so years, a combination of getting help from neighbours and trusting Finnick to keep his little siblings somewhat out of trouble when not in school had meant all the adults could keep jobs. But their pool of neighbours had suddenly shrunk, and Finnick had struggled too much trying to keep himself together at the start to keep his brothers in check, and they didn’t even need three jobs to keep them fed anymore. Mom said she didn’t mind, but Finnick knew she missed her old friends from work. At least she still met up with them often to gossip, now always coming overburdened with food and treats to share with them, at Finnick’s own insistence.
As for Dad and Uncle Ray, accepting financial aid from Finnick had been… difficult for them. Uncle Ray outright refused to take any, while Dad tried to pretend it just wasn’t happening. Marlin was out learning the family trade with them, as Finnick used to. Kip was too young. Drake was smart enough to go get a better paid job elsewhere when he left school, so he stayed off the boats to focus more on his school work. Finnick had wanted nothing more than to get on the boats again, to go back to learning the fisherman’s trade, but…
But he didn’t need to. Victors didn’t hold jobs, they were rich and secure. And the other people on the boat had expressed how uncomfortable the thought of Finnick being on the boat made them. As if he was going to snap and kill them as he had the kids in the Arena. That had hurt most.
“The boat’s scheduled to dock before tea tonight, don’t you worry. They’ll be here to see you off tomorrow,” Mom assured him, ruffling her fingers through his hair. It had grown back now, back to the length he liked it.
Drake made an appearance next, wishing Finnick a good morning while heading to the cupboards to make his own breakfast. The way sleep wasn’t clinging to him like it was everyone else made Finnick think he’d probably been awake a few hours already, no doubt reading. This new house suited him perfectly, it was so much closer to the library, and he’d become even more of a regular than he had before the Games. Not to mention the greater variety of books he could sometimes borrow from the other victors, who’s own home libraries often included books smuggled to them from other districts. Drake would read anything, and now, he was reading everything.
“Did Adrian and the crew cancel?” Drake asked, leaning against the cupboards as he ate his breakfast. Finnick frowned.
“Cancel? What do you mean?”
“You were going to go fishing with your friends this morning, did they cancel?” Drake asked, while realisation slowly dawned on Finnick. Shit. “Sorry, should’ve reminded you earlier.”
“That’s not your job,” Finnick reminded him, almost inhaling the last of his breakfast before leaping to his feet to go grab his fishing trident and wet suit. Maybe he should employ Drake to be his personal reminderer, his own ability to remember everything he needed to seemed to have dropped off the edge of the world since he’d come back from the Games. As he grabbed the trident, he felt a shiver run down his spine, but he easily wiped it aside, rushing out the back door and running towards the gates to Victor’s Village.
Victor’s Village employed a Gate Guard to keep people out of the Village who weren’t residents or invited, and despite Finnick’s insistence to them that his friends should be allowed to come and go as they please, they were always stopped at the gates, to Adrian’s loud displeasure. “We don’t have a gate guard at home, why do you even need one here?” He’d always ask with such scorn, that Finnick couldn’t help but feel targeted by it. Never mind that the gate guard had been the first line of defence between him and the reporters who’d tried climbing the fence to get a glimpse of him those first few weeks back from the Games.
As Finnick neared, trident in one hand, wet suit in the other, he could hear his friends speaking. They’d waited. At least they’d waited…
“What’s taking him so long?” Adrian asked, his annoyance dripping off of every word.
“Probably just trouble at home. You know how Kip can be,” Riggs suggested.
“Yeah right. More like he thinks he’s too superior for us anymore, that ungrateful piece of-“
“Finnick!” Davey yelled, waving at him as Finnick neared. Adrian had a face like a slapped arse, glaring at Finnick as he neared, while Riggs looked pained and Davey was grimacing too. “Good to see you.”
“Sorry, guys, I slept in,” Finnick explained, trying to laugh it off, but only Davey joined in. Adrian hadn’t stopped frowning.
“You? Sleep in?” He asked. He never slept in before the Games, there was too much to do and too many fish to catch, but between never sleeping right and not needing to spend every living second just trying to survive, his sleep schedule had been massively changed.
“Yeah. I slept in,” Finnick insisted. He’d never told them about the nightmares. Didn’t feel right to. “Are we ready for some fishing, then?”
It was a stupid question. All three of them were stood there holding their tridents in one hand and their wet suits in the other. Normal fishing gear for going fishing in the dead of Winter. Finnick opened the gates, and Adrian barged his way through, heading down to the beach without another word. Davey gave an apologetic smile and followed after him, while Riggs walked with Finnick instead.
“How have you been? Feels like it’s been ages since we last saw each other,” Riggs asked. It had been two weeks, but when they were used to seeing each other all day every day, two weeks was practically a life time away from each other.
“I’ve been good,” Finnick lied. “You know, no school, no work, just sitting around eating nice food and swimming all day. It’s practically a dream come true. How have you been?”
“Eh, you know,” Riggs shrugged. “Dad’s still not back in work, so it looks like I’m going to have to start working full time. Adrian’s pretty upset that I won’t be in school anymore, but family comes first, you know?”
Riggs’s dad had been injured on a fishing trip, one of the net hooks had caught his arm, practically ripped it off before they got it out. That he was still alive was a miracle in and of itself, the apothecary had done more than anyone could ever ask of them. Finnick hadn’t heard until two days afterwards, after which he’d promptly made a trip down to the apothecary to pay off the medical bill anonymously. But if Riggs’s dad was still not working, it’d fall on Riggs to go get money for the family, as the eldest. That meant no more school and very little free time to play and fish with them anymore.
“Sorry to hear that. You know, if you ever need help…”
“I know I know, you’ve got more than you ever know what to do with. Thanks Finnick, but we’ll make do,” Riggs clapped him on the back as they reached the beach, dropping his trident in the sand and starting to pull his wetsuit on. Adrian was already suited up, while Davey struggled into his, his toes poking out of a hole somewhere above the foot hole.
“Damnit, not again,” he cursed. “Why do I always find holes in this thing when I’m about to go swimming in freezing water?”
“We might have a spare at home,” Finnick offered. Drake and Davey were probably about the same size, and it wasn’t like Drake would complain about his wetsuit being borrowed, he had barely even worn it since Finnick had bought him it. “It’ll keep you warmer.”
“Uh, that’s okay,” Davey insisted, getting his foot back into the normal hole and pulling the wetsuit up over his arms. It was too big on Davey anyway, a hand-me-down through at least three generations of women who’d all been a lot bigger than Davey was, but there was little point in getting rid of old wetsuits that still worked, even if they were more patches than fabric anymore. Wasn’t like anyone other than Finnick would ever trade them something better for it. “I’m more used to this one, I move in it better.”
Adrian was already plodging through the shallows, trident in hand and not looking back at the rest of them while Finnick pulled on his own wetsuit, trying not to look at his own trident too closely. Compared to his friends’ wetsuits, his was so new, it practically sparkled. He’d only bought it last week, when he’d invited his friends around for some fishing. He hadn’t been spearfishing since the Arena, there hadn’t been a reason to get himself a new one yet. By the time he’d suited up, Davey and Riggs were already making their way into the water, and Adrian had disappeared beneath the waves, leaving him alone with his trident once more.
He stared at it as if it might spring up and attack him, laid in the sand next to him, and he slowly scooped it up into his hands, rolling the cold metal between them. Unlike the wetsuit, he had handled a trident since he’d come back from the games. Since he’d jumped at Uncle Ray when he returned home, even. Bile was running its way back up his throat, and Finnick swallowed it down, grabbing his trident and heading into the water after his friends.
Here, under the water, at least, he felt good. Safe even. Swimming felt like just about the only thing that hadn’t been dirtied by his time in the Arena, unlike fishing, or cuddling up to sleep with others, or even the fire in the fireplace at home. Down here, with the waves swinging him to and fro, he felt the same as he did last year: wet, cold yes, but just another fourteen year old out hunting fish with his trident, and he speared one effortlessly, carrying it up to the surface with joy, before dumping it on the beach behind him.
“Really?” Adrian asked, and Finnick turned to see him glaring at him from within the surf. “You don’t even need to fish to feed your family anymore, and you still catch the first fish?”
“You can have it if you want,” Finnick offered, almost on autopilot, and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say, as Adrian’s frown deepened.
“‘I can have it’? I don’t want your charity, Finnick. Keep your own damn fish.” Adrian spat, turning back to the water and diving beneath the waves while Riggs opened his mouth to protest, but Adrian was already gone.
“Don’t bother, Riggs. It’s fine,” Finnick waved it off, but the same sinking, painful feeling swirled around in his stomach.
“You’ve always been the best at spear fishing out of all of us, why would that change now?” Riggs asked, rolling his eyes and turning back to the water. Finnick carefully inched back into the water too, the previous joy and safety having ebbed away, leaving just the same growing feeling of dread he had come to associate with spending too much time with friends now. Like the inevitability of losing them. Like the inevitability of losing his allies had been.
He caught the second fish without really thinking about it. And the third. By the time he’s walking up the beach with his fourth fish, with only Riggs and Adrian having caught one each, he could practically see the steam rising off of Adrian’s red face.
“What, do you know some secret spot or something Finnick?” He snapped, and Finnick wrestled to keep a smile on his face.
“Not really, I’ve just always been good, remember?” In truth, he was doing a lot less showing off with his trident and swimming than he used to, so he was catching fish a lot quicker than before. But this too seemed to only fuel Adrian’s annoyance. “Look, we can share what I caught, alright? We always do.”
“Oh, great. Yeah. Just share what you caught,” Adrian shrugged. “Like how you want to share your new fancy wet suits or all that fancy food your family buys now. You’re not sharing it with us, you’re just lording it over us, just like you always do.”
“What?” Finnick asked, genuinely feeling a prickle of hurt. “I don’t lord over you. I’ve never lorded over you, what are you saying?”
“You don’t? So you don’t keep offering us things we could never repay you, food, tools, wetsuits? You don’t go sneaking off to pay medical bills just because you can?”
“That’s not ‘lording over you’,” Finnick protested. “It’s sharing, we’ve always shared between ourselves. We’ve always done that!”
“We’ve always ‘shared’ on equal terms!” Adrian yelled. “I give Riggs a fish, he gives one to Davey, Davey gives one to me. And now you’re trying to throw things out of balance! Throwing too much in, reminding us all how much less we have than you.”
“I’m not- Okay, I have money now! So what? I don’t even want it!” Finnick insisted as Adrian walked up the beach to face him. “Do you think if I could choose to have never gone to the Games I would have gone? Even if I knew I would win?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? You went, you have unimaginable riches, and now we’re your charity cases. Just like the town kids do: befriending the poor kids so you can laugh at us.”
“That’s not it!” Finnick insisted, stepping back from Adrian. Davey and Riggs were watching the argument from within the water in silence. “If I’d died in those Games, I know you three would have made sure my family got fed. I’m just repaying the favour you didn’t ever need to do!”
“’Repaying the favour’? That’s what they call it these days? We didn’t even do anything,” Adrian snapped. “We don’t even need your money, with those care packages the Capitol sends out these days. And even that’s because of you,” Adrian said the last two words with such vitriol, Finnick could almost imagine they were poisoned.
“What do you want from me?” Finnick asked. “To ignore you? Pretend I don’t care whether you can eat or not?”
“Why not? You do so anyway,” Adrian scoffed. “You don’t hang out with us anymore, you don’t go to school, we never see you at home. You’re too busy living it up in Victor’s Village with the rich and famous and being the centre of attention.”
The last time he’d tried going home he’d been accosted by Capitol tourists who’d been hunting him down in his old street, and only managed to escape because his neighbours had helped him with a distraction. The last time he’d gone to school, he’d been stared at from every angle, by everyone around him, and when they’d done practice fighting in class, he’d… he’d…
“I want to spend more time with you, I really do, but I can’t,” Finnick insisted. Couldn’t go to school. Couldn’t risk strangers grabbing him and getting hurt the way he hurt his family and friends. Couldn’t risk any of it.
“Can’t, or won’t? You don’t even try anymore!” Adrian yelled, taking a step closer to Finnick, trying to square up to him, to intimidate him.
“What the hell is this, if not trying?” Finnick yelled back, waving his free hand at the beach, his trident still in the other one.
“Showing off! You’re always showing off!” Adrian yelled back, pushing Finnick backwards with both his hands. “Showing off your house,” shove, “showing off your private beach,” shove, “showing off your wealth,” shove.
“Stop shoving me!” Finnick warned, pushing Adrian back, but Adrian didn’t give, standing his ground instead.
“Stop what?” Adrian taunted, shoving Finnick again. Finnick shoved him back, tried to backpedal away, but Adrian gave chase and nearly shoved Finnick to the floor. In a flash of anger, Finnick returned it, this time pushing Adrian with enough force that he fell to the sand, a scream coming from within the surf as Finnick stood over him.
His trident was still in his hands. Pointed, prongs down, at a terrified Adrian’s throat.
Finnick froze, then threw his trident down the beach, his breaths coming out in panicked gasps. What had he done? What had he done? The sight of a blood stained beach was filling his mind, and he didn’t want to turn around to confirm it. To confirm he’d just killed another friend, the sight of Ivy and Alder’s corpses running through his mind once more, mingled with Platinum’s, Prill’s, Rufus, Cyra…
He heard scrambling from behind him as the panicked gasps gave way to full on hyperventilating. He couldn’t bear to look. Couldn’t bear to… What had he done? What had he done?
“Come on,” Adrian’s voice called out to Riggs and Davey, quiet, so much quieter than Finnick had ever heard it. “Let’s go.”
He heard the footsteps moving through the sand as Finnick fell to the floor, bringing his knees up to his chin, burying his head in the nook between them. He’d ruined it. He’d ruined everything. Every life he touched, ruined ruined ruined…
“Finnick?” Riggs asked from nearby. Too near. Too too near…
“Stay back!” Finnick yelled, even with how difficult it felt to breath right now.
“Just leave him,” Adrian called back, annoyance dripping off of every word now that his near-death experience was over.
“But…” Davey started.
“Leave me alone!” Finnick screamed, collapsing in on himself as he sobbed. What had he done? He’d ruined everything. Everything. His brothers hated him. His parents feared him. His friends, they’d never forgive him for this. He’d lost everything. Everything. And it was all his fault. All his fault. All of it…
All of it…