So, good people of FF, hellooo!

I know what you're going to say: "a new story when she never updates the others?!"

Well... True.

BUT!

This is actually not a whole new story. This is an expansion of my other story They Watched. It could be read on its own but it definitely be more understandable and just more complete by reading They Watched first (or at the same time).

I've always been really interested in Finnick's character. Ever since I read the book for the first time. And now that I'm older and re-read them, this fascination has deepened. Not in an obsessive way (although that might be debatable), but rather in the sense that I feel that his character allows for such an intense and interesting study of the books and of humanity. THG had a tremendous impact on me (even more maybe than Harry Potter and that is saying something). And they continue to impact me so much even now. That is why I started writing They Watched.

But as I was writing it, I realized that despite giving voice to my interpretation of Finnick, i was barely scratching the surface. So I started writing this simultaneously. At first, I wanted to wait and publish this as a OS after They Watched was finished. But it just doesn't feel right.

So Here it is, the first part of my study of Finnick Odair. It take place in the same framework as They Watched as it is my interpretation of the little hints about the secondary characters of THG. It will have a different timeline, though.

Oh, and before I forget, don't expect regular updates, sorry. I don't have a lot of time to write and I try to focus of They Watched as much as possible. Also, because this focuses on only one character, it will evolve faster than They Watched and I simply don't want to spoil it by accident.

So enjoy !

Celohei

He Watched

Who was Finnick Odair?

Even Finnick himself wondered sometimes.

He had been so many things, so many people. Sometimes it was hard to remember who he really was.

Finnick Odair had been a little boy. A boy as beautiful as the sea. A boy so beautiful people would remember tales of gods long gone when looking at him.

Truth to be told, for a long time little Finnick hadn't known what a god was. He had only known that people sometimes called him Poseidon – and really, he had learnt years later that this name was that of a deity.

People called him Poseidon for he was like the sea, they would tell him. His eyes were like the sea in the morning, when the sun would rise and its rays would cast their light on the green world below the surface. His hair was like the dancing flows of the evening, when the sea was red and gold. His voice was like the smooth caress of the water on the sandy beach in the warm hours of a quiet afternoon. His laugh was the clear sound of the gentle wave crashing on the black rocks and exploding in a rain of diamonds.

Little Finnick was like the sea, the unpredictable sea, when he would laugh one minute and the next be so serious it would sometimes make others uncomfortable.

He was told he was like the creatures of the old tales, moving in the water as if he had been a part of it, ever moving, ever changing.

He was told he was like the sea as many times and in as many different tones of voice as he had seen the sea himself.

Finnick remembers being in the water before running in the sand, even before he was called Poseidon for the first time.

Poseidon. A God. Little Finnick hadn't even known what a god was.

There was no god in Panem.

The Capitol was God. All controlling and merciless.

Gods and tales of old had survived in District 4, brought back to people's memory by the tides, weaving their dreams into nets of colors, smells and sounds; into nets of emotions and rights and freedom; of histories long forgotten anywhere else.

When Finnick was old enough to know all the tales, he understood what a god was.

A god was a being of tremendous powers. A being who could move mountains and wield thunder. A being who could make trees dance and rocks sing. A being who could love and hate with such force that it would shape the very Nature.

What counted the most for Little Finnick, however, was that a god was a being who was free. Free to do as it pleased, free to live beyond the world of mere mortals.

Free to exist.

For Little Finnick, God existed in District 4. And Little Finnick loved that god. It wasn't Poseidon. No. Poseidon was too restrictive and restricted a being to be the god of Little Finnick's world.

Little Finnick's god was the sea. Blue and green and black and grey and white and golden.

It was the sea. Ever changing, ever moving.

Free. Free to exist beyond the horizon. Free to live.

Free of the Capitol.

Finnick loved the sea. The sea didn't care for the humans. The sea didn't care for the Hunger Games. The sea didn't care for the Capitol.

And above all, the sea didn't let itself be controlled by the Capitol. The Capitol was powerless before the sea.

Finnick dreamed of being the sea, just like people had told him he was.

They had lied.

He wasn't like the sea.

He wasn't free.

Not anymore.

Not since the sea had taken his father.

And with him, the food they needed, little Finnick, his mother, his two brothers and his sister.

Little Finnick was 10 when Poseidon took his father.

Finnick never resented him for it: how could he resent something as free as the sea for not caring about something as insignificant as a human life, even though his father meant the world to Little Finnick.

When his little brother died because there was no food in his belly, little Finnick swore to himself he wouldn't let his mother or his remaining younger siblings follow little Theo.

So he had signed up for the arena.

In District 4 one could sign up for training in exchange for food. If one became a Career tribute, his or her family would be given enough food for them not to die, provided the person who signed up volunteered to go into the arena… and was good enough. Those who weren't deemed good enough by the trainers lost their family's food privileges and were forced to either stay in the programme and be used as live training dummies, or were sent to work in the big cold factories where the catch of the day was to be processed and sent to the capitol.

In appearance, it didn't seem like a terrible system. It actually seemed rather fair. But in truth it was like a pact with the Devil. If one child signed up for the arena, his or her family was automatically enlisted as government-supported. In other words, the family was removed from the District list of people authorized to buy or catch food. If they wanted the help of the Capitol, they would have it all the way. Because of this, only few people signed up for the arena: better to lose one or two siblings to starvation and still have access to food than to be deemed too weak and lose the entire family's access to food. For many families whose child had not been considered strong enough had indeed died of starvation.

But Little Finnick had been confident – and he refused to lose anyone else. Little Theo had already been too much.

Little Finnick had started training on the very day he signed up.

The trainers didn't call him Poseidon. They didn't know who Poseidon was. They hadn't even heard of him. They were not from District 4. They were Peacekeepers instructors.

Had they known of Poseidon, they, too, would have started calling little Finnick like that, for he wielded the trident just like the god himself.

Instead they called him Volunteer Odair.

Volunteer Odair was a fierce young boy. Barely entering puberty, he was already one of the best in the training center.

He was a natural.

Volunteer Odair had to be the best.

He had to.

Because deep down, Volunteer Odair was still Little Finnick, a boy trying to save his family from the hollowness that had been Little Theo's empty stomach before his eyes had become just as empty.

One week after turning 14 Volunteer Odair volunteered for the 65th Hunger Games.

He did not want to go into the arena.

He did not want to kill.

But he wanted to be free again.

And be with his family.

The fastest way to regain his freedom was to enter the arena and to win his Games.

He could do it. Sure he was young, but young Finnick knew he could do it. He was hardly ever going to get better, or not by much. Not enough that it would make a difference.

So why not volunteer now?

Volunteer Odair had smiled as he walked onto the stage like he owned it.

(In that moment, he locked himself up in a cage he didn't even know existed.)

To the Capitol he became Finnick Odair, tribute of District 4 for the 65th Hunger Games.