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I mourn the most for all the things I never said
District Four weddings were always small, but Niamh Odair secretly thought they were the best in Panem. Better than the Capitol extravagance, because it wasn’t about food or fancy clothing. It was about the sacred ritual of it, the nets and salt water and vows. And then it was about dancing into the night, because no matter how bad the world got, you couldn’t feel sad while you were dancing.
She was young to be married, she knew. Her sister had been just as young, but she had also been Aisling. She had always marched to her own beat, so she hadn’t received the same sort of pushback Niamh had. But Niamh was nineteen, now, and the risk of reaping was gone for both her and Caleb.
When you know, you know. That was what Niamh’s mother had told her, and Finnick was the only Odair yet not to marry his first lover. Niamh had seen him yearly at the Reaping, but he ignored her and the others. She wasn’t sure he even saw them in the crowd. He would wave at the cameras, then slouch back in the back of the stage, Mags beside him, and zone out until the Reaping was done. Niamh could still read him well enough to tell he wasn’t paying a lick of attention.
They were drafting up invitations for the ceremony on the rough-wood table in the middle of Caleb’s rented room. He lived close to the docks, where he worked for a fisherman, and the evening wind kept blowing straight through the cloth that covered the once-glass window.
“I want to invite him,” Niamh said.
Caleb looked up from the invitation he was penning to his aunt. “Who? Finnick?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged. “He might send us something nice. It’s worth a shot.”
“Or he might come.”
Caleb just shrugged.
“He’s my brother, Caleb.”
“I am aware of that.”
“You’re being rude about it.”
He sighed. “Niamh… He’s not at all who you told me about, not anymore. They changed him in the Capitol. And from what you told me, he made it very clear he didn’t want to be around any of you anymore. So I’m not inclined to think highly of him.”
“I still do,” Niamh said. Her eyes smarted, and she rubbed them. “I was never supposed to be the oldest.” She looked across the tiny room to the bedside table. She had an old family photo there, one of the only ones they’d ever had the money to take. “Ais, Finn… they were everything to me. And maybe we’re wrong about him. Maybe this will be the turning point, and he’ll come. He came to Aisling’s wedding. He sat in the back and left early, but he came.”
“Alright, then. We’ll invite him. I just…”
“What?”
“I don’t want him to ruin the day for you.”
“I’d feel worse if I didn’t invite him than if I did and he didn’t show.”
Caleb nodded slowly. “I don’t get it,” he said, “but I’ll try my best to understand.”
As you wake up in a cold sweat / Little girl, what goes on in your head?
Finnick walked into the kitchen after his run, brow furrowed, a letter in hand. Annie sat at the counter, organizing out some of her jewelry for Mags to take with her on her visits to town. She never asked for money. It felt nice to create something beautiful and know that someone who might otherwise not be able to afford something like that could benefit from it. She looked up. It didn’t have the tell-tale red of a summons, so the quickening of her heartbeat calmed. “What is it?”
“It’s from Niamh.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“What’s it say?” Annie hopped down from the counter.
“I… I don’t know. I’m afraid to open it. I keep… I know I screwed up during the Games, and I’m scared that Snow…”
“If he hurt your family, he would have told you immediately.” Annie rested her hands over his.
“I know that,” he said. “What other reason would there be for her to reach out now?”
“Maybe she wants to reconnect with her brother.”
“Oh, that’s more terrifying.” Finnick stared at the paper in his hands, turned it over.
“Do you want me to open it?” Annie asked.
“No, I’ll…” He walked around the island and opened a drawer, pulling out a small knife. He slit the envelope open and pulled out the paper within. He stared at it. Then he laughed. He held it out across the counter to Annie. “She’s getting married.”
Annie took it. The paper was soft cream, on the expensive side for District Four. The writing was even, done by hand. Clearly care had been put into this.
The wedding was out in Halewood, a couple months from now. They could go, if he wanted. They had time.
She met his eyes. Finnick looked away, blinking. He laughed again, shaking his head.
“Finnick.”
“I can’t,” he said. “Not now.”
“Why not?”
“They’ve been safe,” he said.
“They haven’t.”
“Safer.”
“Finnick.”
“The…” His voice caught, and he took a deep breath. Before he continued, he walked around the counter and sat down at a barstool beside Annie. She hopped back up onto the stool beside him. He slid the paper back and forth on the counter, thinking. “I think the only reason he hurt Mags is because I didn’t leave him other options,” he said softly. “Which means I can’t… I can’t try to get them back. I already…” He breathed out, harsh and quick. “I already lost Aisling. It can’t be my fault. It… I couldn’t bear it.”
“Aisling wasn’t your fault.”
“That doesn’t help, Annie. If I hadn’t said no, she wouldn’t have died. We both know that.”
“I’m sorry.” She took his hand. “I know. But it really wasn’t your fault, any more than what happens to you in the Capitol is mine.”
“It’s too dangerous,” he said, “if I’m close to people. I can’t do that to them. Not again.”
“She wants you there.”
“She wants the brother she remembered. He doesn’t exist anymore. And I don’t want to make a scene.”
“Finn…”
“What?”
“You’re getting snappy.”
He took a deep breath, nodded once. “I’m sorry. Thank… thank you. I just…”
“It’s a lot.”
“She went and grew up,” he said. “And I wasn’t there. I know I made the right choice. I just…” He rested his elbows on the counter. “I don’t know how to put it into words.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
He picked the paper back up from the counter, turning it over in his hands. “I want to go,” he said. “But I want to go as… as the Finnick she knew. No stares. No threats. Just… just her brother. But I think that man might be dead, and I can’t…”
“Send her a gift, then,” Annie said.
“Yeah?”
“Rsvp no, and then send a gift. Open the door back up. If she and…” Annie glanced at the paper again. “Caleb are serious about wanting you back in their lives, they’ll follow up. If not, it’s not on you anymore.”
“And if they are close to me? If they make that choice?”
“You still care about them, Finn. Snow knows that.”
He cursed softly to himself and brushed a few tears from his cheek. “How is it you know me better than I know myself?”
“You invited me inside of your heart a long time ago.”
“And for some reason you stayed.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Can you… can you write the response? I don’t think I have it in me.”
What have they done to us? / (Tell me that you, tell me that you'd please come back)
The invitations went out, rsvp’s started coming in, and life was so busy with wedding prep that Niamh hardly thought of anything else. Caleb’s shifts got earlier and earlier, so he was tired in the few evening hours they had to spend together before he needed to sleep again. She would go her rounds to pick up nets to mend. Niamh would do her work while thinking about their wedding net.
Her dress arrived from the tailor up in town, and Niamh stood in it in front of her mirror, trying to ignore just how much she looked like her older sister had. She missed Aisling so much now, even more than her mother. Their mother had died when she was small enough that Aisling could feel like an adequate replacement, though the hole still ached. Losing both of them was a chasm she couldn’t face without falling.
A knock came on the door. Caleb. “Baby? Can I come in?”
Niamh rustled her skirts up, moving away from the mirror. It was bad luck to see the bride’s dress before the wedding, wasn’t it? But then again, she and Caleb were District Four folk. They had too much salt under their nails and too many coffins in the dunes to waste time trying to be coy. “I’m in my dress,” she said. “Up to you whether you want to.”
The door cracked open. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
He stepped inside, and his expression immediately started to glow. “Oh,” he breathed. “You’re so pretty.”
She laughed. “My articulate lover, and that’s the best you could come up with?”
He kissed her laugh away. “You try and be more vocal with a sight like this,” he said. He spun her around, and the dress swirled. “You look lovely, darling.”
“Part of me can’t believe it,” Niamh said. “That we're actually getting married. Do you think they’re right? That we should wait until we have a bit more going for us before committing to it?”
“You getting cold feet?”
She pressed one of her feet against his shin. "Does it feel like it?”
“God, yes. Your feet are freezing.”
She laughed. “I’m not,” she said. “I want to marry you, and I want to do it soon. I just… wish there weren’t so many people missing.”
“I know,” Caleb said. “So do I.”
“Well, that’s life,” she said. “We’re luckier than most.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” He kissed her again. “I have something for you,” he said. “If you’d like.”
“Oh?”
He produced a small cloth bag from his pocket. “This came in the mail for you today,” he said. “No return address.”
Finnick, she thought immediately. She took it, hands shaking, and opened it.
Inside was a blue gem that had been woven, district four style, onto a pin. There was a paper note attached to it, the handwriting on it looping and feminine. “I’m sorry we can’t come to the wedding. But take this. Something borrowed, something blue, you know.”
Caleb blew out a long breath. “How much d’ya think its worth?”
“Too much.” Niamh turned it over and over in her hands. “More than I could afford.”
“So it’s from your brother.”
“Or Mags, maybe,” Niamh said. “That’s not his handwriting.”
“Maybe that Cresta girl.”
“Annie?”
“Yeah. That’s the one. There’s talk…” He trailed off, flushing.
Niamh tipped his face to look at her. “What are they saying about him now?”
“They say he’s seduced her,” he said. “She’s not mentally… well. They call the mad victor for a reason. And they’ve been seen out together.”
“Hm.” Niamh looked back at the stone. “They’ve never been kind about him before. Why change now?”
“Niamh…”
“She’s right,” Niamh said. “‘Something borrowed, something blue.’”
Save this memory for when we kiss it goodbye / Little girl, I won't see you again
The wedding was beautiful. Everything Niamh could have ever imagined. The net had been soft over her head, draped upon her arms. She thought she’d taste the salt water on Caleb’s lips every time she kissed him, from now into eternity. And he was hers. In a world that seemed intent on ripping everyone she loved away from her, she couldn’t get over the miracle of him.
They moved into his place, down by the beach. The room had been cramped for him alone, but there were those little touches now. Their net, hanging on the wall. Flowers in the window. A splash of color from a new pillow on the bed.
They had a stack of gifts. Nothing much, because most people didn’t have much to give. Handwritten cards and housewares, though, most people could spare. Niamh and Caleb sat sorting them at the kitchen table when Niamh stopped.
“Caleb.” She held out the envelope to him. It was fine paper, smooth and silky, even the envelope. It was different handwriting than his rsvp had been; his, probably, this time.
“Told ya’ he’d send something…” Caleb opened the envelope and pulled out the paper inside, and his voice trailed off. “Is this what I think it is?”
Niamh took it from him, skimming her eyes over it. It was.
It was.
“A deed,” Niamh said. “He sent a house.”
“Well, fuck.” Caleb ran his hand down his face. “Back in the proper town, too. There’s a lot more work opportunities there. This is… this is our ticket out of here!” He caught her hands in his and squeezed. “Niamh!”
“It’s my old house,” Niamh said. “Where I grew up. Where we grew up. He bought it right after he won. We lived there for just over a year, maybe, before we moved.”
Caleb, to his credit, was quiet. He settled back into his seat, one hand dropping away. He rubbed his fingers against her hand with the other. They knew each other well enough by now to know when space was the proper response. Niamh lost herself in the past, in the brother that had long since disappeared from her life. Until now. If he wanted them to move back to the city, that meant they’d be close to him. He’d be part of their life.
“If we go," she said, “I’m going to visit him. I need to know…”
“Know what?” Caleb’s posture was tense. Clearly he didn’t love the thought of getting close to Finnick Odair.
“I need to know if he did this because he wanted to,” Niamh said. “If my brother is still somewhere inside that man.” She remembered days upon days on the beach, Finnick teaching her to knot the rope into nets, then leaving her to her work to run around with Callum, toss him into the waves, make sure his swimming was strong enough to go out as far as he liked and make it back okay. How he and Aisling would captain the little fishing boat, letting the rest of them be the crew. How he’d let Caitlin come sometimes, barely more than a baby at the time, strapped to his back or harnessed to his belt so that she wouldn’t fall overboard. How even though he was training as a Career, the Games had never fully felt real to Niamh, because how could something bad happen to any of them?
She had never been supposed to be the oldest.
“Let me try, Caleb,” she said. “If we go, you have to let me try.”
“Okay,” he said. He kissed her in a way that made her decide the rest of the presents could wait until later. It was enough.
Don't make me go through this again / You’re not real, and I can't pretend
They moved back to Perth. It felt strange. The house was exactly how she remembered it, the windows facing the beach, the little sandy path to the door. The roof had been repaired recently, it looked like, and the windows were clean. The air hung clean and fresh in the room. Someone had been by recently.
Had it been Finnick? More likely, he’d gotten someone in to clean it for them. Part of the wedding gift. They got their furniture moved in, and she was home again. Except it was so empty. It was missing the chaos she remembered from when they were little, all crammed on blankets tucked between the bed and the wall.
Caleb went into town. He’d already talked to the owner of the packaging plant there, and he’d be starting on as a manager for the younger workers. While he was gone, she headed out the door.
The path was familiar. She’d walked it numerous times after Finnick won, once their da had moved them back to the little house. It had been her only way to see Finnick, to see Aisling, who had insisted on staying with him. She never saw anyone on her way; who was crazy enough to visit the Victors, anyway?
The houses loomed into view. Niamh knew which one was his. It looked exactly the same as she’d remembered it. It was like walking into the past. She made her way to the door and knocked.
The door opened, and a young woman with dark hair opened it. Annie Cresta. Niamh recognized her from her reaping, from her tour. “Oh,” Annie said. A smile crept over her face. “You’re Niamh. You look like him. I had hoped you’d come to visit.”
“I… Um, is he here?”
“He’s on a run. Come inside. He’ll be back soon.”
Niamh walked in slowly, and the door closed behind her. Annie hurried into the kitchen as Niamh drifted towards the living room. When she was twelve, the place had seemed fancier than their family had any right to. Now it felt… different. Still nice, of course. Compared to the little cottage in town, this place was huge. But it felt more like home. She recognized the style of some of the decor as their mother’s. And there was a stack of books on the table beside the couch that were well loved, and she knew they had to be Finnick’s. He’d always read whatever he could get his hands on, back in the day.
Annie came back from the kitchen with a tray of mugs. One coffee for each of them. She sat across from Niamh, who shifted uncomfortably, pulling her skirt over her legs. She wasn’t sure she belonged here.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Annie said. “It's been a while.”
“Four years,” Niamh said. “If you don’t count the Reaping.”
Annie nodded slowly. “A lot changes in four years.” Her voice was soft, as if she pulled it from somewhere else. She had a distant look in her eyes, too, even as she sat next to Niamh. It wasn’t uncomfortable; Niamh was too familiar with pain to have never seen a look like that.
“I hadn’t even met my husband yet,” Niamh said, laughing a little to herself.
“Strange how life has a way of doing that to us.” The distant expression was replaced by something softer. Whatever Finnick had become, this woman loved him. That had to say something, didn’t it?
But Finnick hadn’t come to the wedding. Niamh kept the words to herself and sipped the coffee. Annie was a good host. The conversation was light, but deep enough that Niamh started to feel comfortable with Annie. They talked about their childhoods, mutual friends, Caleb, her family’s plans to stay in the city and find work.
The door swung open. The steps that came through were quick and direct, heading for the stairs. His voice called out. “Annie, I’m home. I’m gonna run upstairs and shower real quick, and then I’ll be back down.”
“Please be quick,” Annie called back. “We’ve got a visitor.”
“What?” The steps came back down the stairs. Then they rounded the corner into the living room. Finnick’s eyes met Niamh’s. He was taller than she remembered, and he had a close-cropped beard that made his face look much more like their father’s. He hadn’t had it at the Reaping. His hair and shirt were sweaty against his skin. His eyes, though, were exactly the same.
“Oh,” he said softly, his eyes very wide. “Hi.”
It was so lame and so very like him that Niamh laughed. “Hello, Finnick.”
He blinked a few times and raked his hand through his hair. “God, if I’d known you were coming I would’ve prepared.” He looked back to the stairs. “I should wash up. I’m sure I stink. But…” He held out both hands at her. “Don’t go anywhere. Please.” There was something in his eyes akin to fear. Fear, maybe, that she’d leave if he didn’t have his eyes on her.
“I don’t intend to,” she said.
He nodded too frantically. He glanced to Annie, who shook her head lovingly. “Go wash up,” she said. He turned on his heel and ran back towards the stairs. Less than five minutes later he was back, his hair washed and wild in exactly the way Niamh hadn’t known she remembered, wearing a fresh shirt, half buttoned, and long tan shorts.
He looked at her, at the couch, then at the door. “Walk with me?” He offered.
Annie disappeared, conveniently, back into the kitchen. Niamh rose and followed Finnick tentatively out the door. He set off on the path out the back of the Victors’ Village, twisting his way down to the beach. It felt like time travel, the way Niamh was back in her skin all those years ago, when he had won. The short while that this had felt like home.
They made it to the beach, and he slowed so she could walk beside him. He didn’t seem to know where to start, his eyes locked out over the ocean. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the wedding,” he said finally. “How was it?”
“Perfect.”
He smiled, soft and small. “I’m glad.”
“It was the most beautiful day of my life. Even dad looked near to tears.”
Finnick’s eyes were distant, off over the waves. In the past. Niamh felt herself drift that way, too. Back to a time when she had known him. “That’s saying something.”
“It is.”
“Why… why didn’t you come?”
“I didn’t want to make a spectacle.”
“You could have…”
“I made one at Aisling’s,” he cut her off. “And that was well before… things are what they are now. And I wasn’t sure…”
“Sure what?”
“That you actually wanted me there. I didn’t think you’d come see me, really.”
“You gave me a house, idiot. I had to thank you.”
“You could’ve sent a card.”
“Not for something that big.”
He let her win.
Niamh realized, then, that she’d excused away her presence. “And,” she added, “I did want to see you.”
He nodded slowly. “I see.”
“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you there.”
He should have said something. He didn’t. Instead, he climbed halfway up a dune and sat down in the sand, nodding an invitation for her to join him. She sat down, sea wind catching at her curls, and listened to the sound of the surf.
“You know… you never stopped being my brother, Finn.”
He leaned his head back on his neck, turning his face to the sky and closing his eyes. He took a long, deep breath. “It was my fault that he killed Aisling,” he said. “I didn’t know how to play the Game well enough.”
“Finn, she drowned. There was no game to it. You’d been a Victor for years.”
He shook his head. “That’s not how it works. I said no to something that wasn’t meant to be a question, and the next day her boat went down. Not even ten hours later. One slip up and…” He snapped his fingers. “I might as well have held a gun to her head.”
Anger flared inside of her. Aisling hadn’t been his fault at all. What had been his fault was his refusal to grieve with the rest of them. He should have come to her funeral. He should have acknowledged that this pain was shared. That this life was shared.
“What makes you think you’re so important that everything traces back to you?” Niamh snapped. “Sometimes things happen for no fucking reason. Sometimes your brother gets reaped when you’re still a kid, and he comes back completely changed. You deal with it. Sometimes your sister dies too soon, and suddenly you’re the one holding everyone together because someone has to, and that’s just the way it is. Long and short of it. Sometimes you might just stop and realize it’s not your fault, what happens to the rest of the world, so you might as well focus on living. It’s all you’ve got.”
“Sometimes, it actually is your fault.”
“So what, you’re telling me you wanted her dead?”
“No, that’s not…”
“Then what is it? Because I’m… I’m tired of making excuses for you when I don’t even know the truth. I’m tired of carrying around this hope that maybe someday you’d turn up at our front door and we’d eat dinner together like we used to. I’m tired, Finnick. But I want my family back. And I’d hoped, by moving here, maybe… I don’t know. You’d be something I remember.” She stopped, swallowing the tension in her throat before it turned into tears. “You didn’t even go to her funeral. You should have been there. I… I needed you to be there.”
Finnick wouldn’t look at her, and Niamh knew if he had she would have cried, and maybe that’s why he didn’t. Finally, he spoke, softly, “I didn’t know how to be there,” he said. “I was barely anything, anymore. And that doesn’t make it right. I know that. I can’t ever make it right. But I’d like to try again, if you’ll let me.”
“I’d like that, too. I just… I don’t know how, Finnick. You’re…”
“A Capitol pawn? A pretty toy for terrible people to carry around with them? Partying smack in the fat pocket of the same people who tore our family apart?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“Help me understand,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this.”
Finnick’s shoulder straightened, the way they used to in training, just before he stared to spar. “That day,” he said, “that… she died. That was the only time I’ve ever refused to fuck someone.”
“What?”
“I was seventeen, and tired, and I just wanted to go home or maybe die. So I didn’t care. I didn’t think, and I said no when they told me where to go and who to meet, and I went to bed. And I woke up again, and she was gone. The President offered me his condolences in person. I didn’t want her to die. I never…” He swallowed, hard. “But it is my fault. And I can’t… I try to do what they ask me to. I’ve always said yes. I always will. But I’m not perfect, Niamh. I can’t promise anything, to you or to your Caleb or anyone else in my life.”
Niamh was imploding again, like she had been when she heard about the boat. She could see her sister’s still form, cold from the night in the ocean, strange and other because the life had gone out of it. You could see the change, the stiff muscles, the somehow inhuman expression. It was like a twisted faith, to say that happened for a reason. That someone had caused it.
That someone was Finnick. Because he wasn’t allowed to say no.
And how was she supposed to carry all of this?
She understood, suddenly, why her father had run away from his son. Why no one other than Aisling had even tried. Because this was unmapped seas, navigating what had happened to them, and she was scared she would fall right off the edge of the world. But she couldn’t do that. She refused to do that. If he’d let her, she would try to find her footing again. Try to know him again, like she had when they were kids.
She met his eyes, and she knew he was waiting. Waiting to see which way she would fall. Waiting for her to get up, thank him curtly for the house, and leave like their father would have.
She took his hand, to keep herself from falling further. Like it might somehow do something. And she thought it did. “Okay,” she said simply. She didn’t fight his claims, not anymore. “What now?” She squeezed his hand and released it.
“I don’t know,” Finnick said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never really known.”
“So you just stayed away?”
“Yes.”
“Asshole.”
For some reason, that made him laugh. He lowered his head, ducking away from her. Niamh grinned. She hadn’t been sure how he’d react to that, but he had like the Finnick she remembered. Like the brother he had been to her before he was reaped.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “At first I didn’t want to reach out, and then… Well, I wasn’t sure how I would be received.”
“You should have at least tried.”
“Yeah. I probably should have.” He shrugged. “I had hoped, though. With you moving back here, that maybe…”
“Maybe I’d turn up?”
“Or I would have an excuse to go to you. I, um, ran past your house today. Didn’t look like you or your husband were… there.”
“Caleb’s getting his new job set up.”
“And you came here.”
“I did.”
“So,” Finnick said. “That’s it, then. Are we going to… I don’t know. Try to be family again? However we can?”
“I don’t know,” Niamh said. “I can’t…” She sighed. “I can’t be the one to put in all the effort, Finn. It has to go both ways.”
“I know. And hey, I gave you the house.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Any old rich person could have given me the house.”
“Who else would have?” There was laughter in his tone.
“I don’t know. I am very pretty.” She smirked.
He flinched away at her words, at their implications. The smile died from her face. But he took a deep breath and smiled back at her again. “I’ll try,” he said. “I promise. And once Caleb’s back you both should come to dinner. Annie…” He chuckled. “Well, Annie wanted me to attend the wedding. She’s been dying for this to happen. And she’d love to get to know you both.”
“Okay,” Niamh said.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
Let the tears on my face / Wash the blood from your hands, little one