a/n: this is a long one, be warned

F I N N I C K

FIVE YEARS AGO

It took the next games to see her again. Annie told him that she visited, but he was always away on business when she did. He couldn't help but look for her in the colorful crowds of the Capitol. Their tributes were getting scrubbed clean, so surely she was mingling somewhere. The party for mentors was in full swing. Old friends greeted one another happily. Finnick found himself often surrounded.

She found him first. Cool rage flooded her face, and he knew why she was angry.

"Annie?" she hissed. The girl they both adored had been reaped this year. Her kind heart would surely get her killed.

"You think I wanted this to happen?" He hissed in return. It was difficult to focus on what she was saying with the dress she had on. A cowl neck, spaghetti straps, and Aegean silk decorated her skin almost lovingly.

He hated Paprika then.

"She won't survive, Odair. She's too good and it'll rip her apart if something else doesn't do it first." Her words and sharp tone made him draw back.

He looked around, finding many of the mentors to be staring. Placing a careful hand on her waist, he pulled her around the corner to keep from watching eyes.

"Since when do you not believe in her?" He snapped quietly.

Her head reared back in surprise. "I don't believe in her?" She scoffed. "She's going to fight tooth and nail, but..." she choked on her words. "It's Annie."

Frail, sweet Annie. Annie who laughed at birds and pet the crabs when she caught them.

Her eyes glistened this time. He hated to see her in any sort of pain.

"Mags and I will take special care of her, okay?" He reassured. His palm burned as it rested on her waist still, his fingers gently scratching her back.

"Better fucking promise me that you will, Odair." She jabbed a shaking finger in his chest, face inches from his.

"I..." he cleared his throat. "I promise."

She did something unexpected, then. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. He struggled to keep his breathing even.

He had been with many people, in far more intimate positions, so why was it that she did such things to him?

"I won't lose her, Finnick," she whispered. "I can't." His thumb rubbed gentle circles on her waist. He was unsure of what to do. He had comforted many people in a variety of ways, but Althea was foreign to him.

"You guys decent over there?" A voice jokingly called from around the corner. The voice belonged to Thatcher Golsbane, her co-mentor. "Don't want to walk in on anything."

"All good, Thatch." She pulled her head from his shoulder, detaching herself from his hold too soon.

"Just wanted to check. Rumors fly in a city like this," Thatcher said quietly. "Didn't want you to be caught by someone who would say anything."

Althea rolled her eyes. "We were just having a. . . heart to heart."

Thatcher rounded the corner, eyeing Finnick quickly. "Just making sure she didn't kill you." A smirk came about his lips. "Thea's heart to hearts aren't what you'd think. She's usually pretty violent."

"Know from experience?" Finnick hated the way his chest puffed up just the smallest bit when Thatcher joined them. He hated the way he felt the need to straighten his shoulders. And what he hated most was the emerald envy crawling up his neck at the relaxed, comfortable manner in which Althea regarded Thatcher.

"Twice," Althea hummed. "And he deserved both of them."

Thatcher's gaze softened, hardening the tension in Finnick's shoulders. "Yeah, I did."

"This is nice. I believe someone is calling my name," Finnick said sharply. He wasn't looking at her, but he could see Althea's head snap up to look at him.

He couldn't look at her and see her confusion.

He couldn't look at her and not stay by her side.

"Have a good evening."

And he left.

The parade did not provide him the comfort and distance he needed. He could feel her presence behind him. Thatcher wasn't around, so Althea coached her tributes on her own for the time being. The male was a scrawny thing with red hair and quick eyes. The girl next to him looked bred for war. Finnick could practically see the energy in her muscles simmering, just waiting to be used. They were dressed in black, with currents of electricity crackling over the fabric. He wondered how they didn't fall to the ground and seize.

Perhaps Five would have a chance this year, he thought as he eyed the girl.

The ginger boy said something quietly to Althea, causing her to smile and let out a light laugh. She was still in that dress, so it must've been comfortable enough. The silk taunted him.

"Does he have a staring problem?" The muscle girl asked. Finnick snapped his head away, but he could feel the heat flooding his face. He hated how when Althea was around, all of his confidence or cockiness slipped away from him. Good luck, fucker, they teased.

He could feel her gaze on him again. "He's just a curious one, is all. Don't pay attention to him." Her rasp of a voice sent bumps raising on his skin. "Focus on your balance. Smile. Wave. Or don't. Just stay true to you and what you want to do. I have a meeting, so I won't be here when you come back, but Thatcher will be."

"See you at dinner?" The ginger asked.

Finnick turned his head minimally to see her nod. His ear twitched at the sounds of her heels drawing closer.

"You okay? You left pretty fast earlier," she murmured quietly. He had no choice but to look at her now. Her dark hair fell down her back in dark waves, but a small baby hair had curled by her temple. His fingers itched to tuck it away from her face.

God, when were Annie and Paul going to show up?

   "Yep. Had someone calling for me," he said. Clearing his throat, he smiled. "Thanks for checking, though." The way she observed him was unnerving. What she said next was even more so.

   "You have a tell, Odair."

   "A what?"

   "A tell," she said simply. "You can't lie to me."

   For some unexplainable reason, it angered him to no end. "You think you know me, Hawkforge? You think you know how I work?" He seethed. Her eyes widened marginally, but the rest of her face remained unchanged. "Just because we're both victors and both of our moms are gone doesn't mean you know me. So keep out of my head, and don't bother visiting Annie. She doesn't need you distracting her."

   He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

   Her mouth set into a hard line and he noticed her clenched, shaking fists. He had crossed too many lines with what he'd said. He knew that. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

   "That was unkind, Odair," she murmured quietly.

   Oh no. He had expected rage. Fiery, hot, and unforgiving. But the watering in her eyes was so much worse.

   Before he could get another word out, she wiped delicately under her eyes and left the line of chariots. Her female tribute was staring at Finnick, but it wasn't with the adoration nearly every other woman looked at him with.

   She looked at him with murder in her eyes.

Althea haunted him again that night, after the parade. That stupid dress and her stupid, soft lips on his. Her fingers in his hair. Her ridiculously soft hair brushing around him in a curtain. Their bones pressed together.

   Then she was pulling away from him, leaving him in the darkness that surrounded them both.

   "Wait—" he choked out.

   "Sorry, didn't mean to get inside your head," she quipped.

   He awoke panting, sweat coating his forehead.

   He hated how it made him feel.

   Because it made him feel. She made him feel and he hated every fibre of his being because of it.

   And it didn't help that he knew her room was directly above his. He wondered if she was awake, too.

   After taking a shower of liquid ice, he made his way to the living space of the floor for his district. Shocking him, Annie was pacing the room with angry stomps.

   "Annie, you should be resting—" he attempted.

   "Somebody made her cry, Finn," Annie snarled. It was the most inhuman sound he'd ever heard escape her body. "Somebody made Al cry and she wouldn't even look at me."

   Finnick's stomach dropped to the soles of his feet. Althea had actually cried?

   Fuck.

   "I'll kill them," Annie snapped, still pacing. "I will kill them, Finnick."

   Annie didn't have a violent bone in her body, she cried when someone crushed a bug or when someone served her meat. She cried every year when she watched the Hunger Games, and she renounced violence at every turn.

   And yet she was ready to kill someone because they made Althea Hawkforge cry.

   He had made Althea Hawkforge cry.

   "She doesn't cry like me," she started. "She barely cries. She hasn't cried since her games."

   Althea hadn't cried in two years, and he'd been the one to break her.

   "You should go talk to her, Finn. She likes you." Annie quit her pacing. "I'd love to be friends with him if he wasn't so damn arrogant," she said. "That's what Al always says, Finn. So you go talk to her."

   It was an order. That much he could tell. "Annie, that's not a good—"

   "Go or I'm not eating for the rest of my time here." She planted her feet and crossed her arms. He wanted to roll his eyes, but he knew she was serious.

   Like a scolded dog, he walked to the elevator. As it ascended, his pulse raced. What could he say to her to soothe the wounds his earlier words had caused?

   The elevator chimed softly, the doors rolling open. He stepped into the hall, heading towards where he knew the living space would be.

   Althea was asleep in Thatcher's arms on the couch. Eyes puffy in sleep, nose red, and lashes still wet. Thatcher was awake, running his hand through her hair gently. His eyes narrowed at Finnick and pinned him to the ground. He paused in his threading of Althea's hair, causing her to shift. He whispered something soft to her, to which she sleepily nodded and rolled over, seamlessly falling back into a crying induced slumber.

   Finnick hadn't moved by the time Thatcher was in front of him.

   "You've got a lot of fucking nerve, Odair. I should end you right here for what you said to her."

   Finnick flinched unwillingly, but he didn't disagree. "I know."

   Thatcher crossed his arms. "What are you doing here?"

   "Annie said she wouldn't eat unless I came to check on Al—" he couldn't finish her name, guilt clawing up his throat at the sound of her congested breathing.

   "Does she know?" When Finnick didn't answer, Thatcher asked again. "Does Annie know it was you?"

   Finnick looked to the ground. It was all the answer Thatcher needed.

   "Maybe it's best that you stay away from us, Odair. Something tells me both Althea and I need a break."

   "What is he doing here?" A feminine voiced snapped from behind Finnick. He turned to see the female tribute glaring at him in her pajamas.

   "Septimè, what did I tell you?" Thatcher sighed.

   "To sleep as much as possible," Septimè quipped in response. "And I was. But I felt an unwanted presence." Her serpent eyes were glued on Finnick's frame. Perhaps she was thinking about using him as target practice.

   "Go to bed, Sep," Althea's voice cracked behind them. Finnick whirled again to face her, but she didn't acknowledge his existence in the room with them.

   "But—" the girl challenged.

   "No buts. You and Geo have a big day tomorrow. Get some sleep." She maneuvered around Thatcher, lightly touching his waist as she went around him.

   Finnick hated the familiarity of it. How they moved together and how she had seemingly fit so well against Thatcher on the couch.

   Althea put her arm lightly around Septimè's shoulders, pulling her towards her room. "I can get you a sleeping tonic, if you like. If it's nightmares, they have ones for those too."

   Septimè left one last glare on Finnick before murmuring a no thank you and disappearing into her room with a soft thud of the door.

   Althea stared at the door for a moment, deliberating. "I'm going to get us hot chocolate, Thatch. It'll be ready when you're done."

   "Sure thing, kid." Finnick bristled as Thatcher pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she passed him.

   Thatcher Golsbane was not an unobservant man. When Althea was out of earshot, he leaned towards Finnick.

   "A boy used for his body before he'd ever learned how other  feelings work." He looked him up and down. "I pity you. I do."

   Finnick tensed even further. "I don't need your pity—"

   Thatcher raised a silencing hand. "I didn't ask. I get it now, I do. But until you've learned how to treat the people you care about, I'd suggest you stay away from her." He leaned in closer. "Or our next heart to heart won't be so pleasant."

a/n: what do we think????? please let me know 💗