A/N-

I wrote this story a long time ago, so I think it's only fair to warn you that it isn't my best work. It's not bad, though, and it does have a handful of favorites, so I'm not going to discourage anyone from reading or reviewing, but please take that into account if you see any glaring mistakes. I kind of edited Fishing for People, but there is just too much of this, really, so I apologize in advance for the typos and any other less than perfect writing, and hope that you still enjoy the story.

...

Finnick- Age 14 Annie- Age 12

I'm pacing back and forth down a dirt road lined with shacks. That's the only way that I can describe the houses that I'm seeing. They're all just one story, with probably only a couple rooms, and the wooden exterior is rotting. The smell fills the air, creeping under my skin.

All of my senses are on high alert, searching for a threat. Over the last two days, I've taken slow steps back to normal. I'm regaining confidence, starting to come to terms with the things that I had done in the arena. My sleep is still haunted with nightmares, and there are times when someone will come up behind me and I'll whip around, ready to jump at them. But I'm a lot better than I was before.

Now though, I can almost feel myself easing back into the arena. I can feel the desperation of the people who are forced into this situation, exactly like those in the arena, and I know better than anyone that desperate people do desperate things. I doubt anyone would be dumb enough to attack me after they've seen what I could do, but I can't help but be prepared for it. I'm a victor. They all know that money lines my pockets. My clothes probably cost enough to feed a family for weeks. I'm basically a walking goldmine to these people.

What am I doing here?

I have to remind myself that I promised Arowana I'd help her family. I just had no idea that they were in this bad of condition.

I try to walk towards the house with the seven painted on the door, but I have to turn around again. I've been at this for an hour. It's eerie actually, because no one has noticed me. That adds to my feeling of unease, the inkling that the people inside are planning something, when really they probably can't even see me through the driving rain. That doesn't console me though, because it also means that I can't see them. I bring my hand to the knife that I now keep at my side at all times. I wouldn't use it, but knowing that it's there helps me.

Five minutes pass. Ten. Finally I take a deep breath and walk towards the door. I won the Hunger Games for crying out loud. Why am I so scared of this?

I knock before I lose my courage. A few seconds pass before a woman in her late thirties answers the door. She's pale and thin, but has long blonde hair and the same fierce blue eyes that Arowana had. I know that this is her mother without asking. Mrs. Cresta is her name now. I have a million things that I want to say, but just looking into those eyes leaves the words stuck in my throat.

"May I help you?" she asks in a quiet, yet surprised voice.

"I'm Finnick Odair," I choke out. Well, duh. She would've watched the Games. She knows who I am.

"Do you want to come out of the rain?" she asks.

"Please," I tell her. This is awkward and formal and I hate it.

"This way," she says. I step into her house. My hair and clothes are drenched, and water drips onto the rough wooden floor.

"I'm sorry, I'm getting water all over," I tell her, starting to step back outside.

"It's fine," she says. We both stand in front of the door for a minute, not saying anything.

"I'd take it that you watched the Games," I say finally. She nods mutely. "So you're aware of the promise that I made your daughter?"

"We don't need your money Mr. Odair," she says. I notice a girl come up behind her. She has these huge green eyes, and curly dark brown hair cascades down her back. Even though she's small, something in her expression makes her look older than twelve, but I'm sure that it's Annie.

I think of the stories that Arowana told me about her, and I start to greet her, but stop myself when I see the look in those beautiful eyes. Fear. Pure fear. She's scared of me, just like Rafe. It doesn't hurt as badly as when I saw it in him, but it still hurts. Just another reminder that the Games will never end. Some people will remember what I did, and there's no doubt that this girl remembers very clearly.

"Annie, go back to your room," her mother says softly, like we were having some horrible argument that she doesn't want her to hear. Even if we were arguing, it's obvious by the way that Annie carries herself that she'd be able to handle whatever we were talking about.

"What are you two talking about?" she asks her mother, ignoring the orders that she'd been giving. I notice how sweet her voice is. Soft and gentle, but strong too.

"Nothing." She turns to me then, even though her eyes won't meet mine. That's fine with me. I avoid eye contact now anyway. I'm worried that people will be able to see the monster there.

"Why are you here?" she asks fearlessly, like she'd be able to make me leave if I was causing trouble. Her mother gives me a look, and I know she wants me to be quiet, but I know what it's like to be treated like a child when you really shouldn't be.

"I'm fulfilling the promise I made in the arena."

"And what was that? Specifically?" I address both her and her mother now.

"You need money, but if you don't like charity, I can get any of you jobs working on my father's boats. Then, if there's anything else you need, please just ask. I know that I can't replace Arowana, but at least allow me to help you." Mrs. Cresta smiles warmly now, deciding to trust me. I can tell that Annie still doesn't. She leaves the room without a word when I'm done.

"This is too good to be true," Mrs. Cresta says. "I heard your words in the arena, but I never imagined that you were serious."

"I wouldn't lie, not about something like that. I should really be doing more." She puts a soft hand on my shoulder and manages to force me to look into her eyes. I see nothing but gentleness and compassion.

"What you're doing now already means everything to us." I smile sadly, tears now threatening.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me." And it does, knowing that I can help people as well as hurt them.

"You have nothing to thank me for." Then she gives me a quick hug and I leave with this warm feeling still in my chest. The feeling of doing something truly good.

I sit at my kitchen table with a thick book. It's boring, just some old sailor's tales, but my mind is completely lost in the book. In the week that's passed since I've gotten back, I have gained a few new hobbies. One, my main one, is reading. I can lose myself for hours in a single book, and losing myself is one of my favorite things now. Losing myself means getting away from the girls that have started following me, the letters from the Capitol and of course the ever present Games.

I'm so caught up in my book that I don't hear the door open. I don't hear the footsteps coming behind me. I was trying so hard to shut out that real world that I actually did. Until I felt the tap on my shoulder.

In an instant the book is down, my hands circling around the girl's neck, the knife digging into her forehead. Then I see the wide green eyes staring up at me. I slowly lower my knife, and my hand flops down to my side. I feel stupid, but worst of all, I feel horrible. It gets worse when I see the cut, the blood trickling down her forehead. I feel like I'm going to throw up.

Annie Cresta is staring at me, unable to move a muscle, her face as pale as a sheet. Her eyes won't leave the knife that almost went through her skull.

"Annie," I whisper, my own fear clogging my voice. The fear of knowing that it was a very real possibility that I could've killed her right then.

"I- I'm fine," she says, and I know that she's trying to be strong, but her voice shakes.

"God, I was stupid. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" She backs away slowly.

"I'm fine. But I need to go." Great. The girl was already afraid of me, now she comes to my house and I almost kill her. She was right to be scared.

"Just let me look at your forehead," I tell her, my voice pathetically pleading. "You're bleeding a lot."

"No," she says. "I need to go. My head is fine." She starts to leave, but I grab her arm. She freezes, all of her muscles tensing as if she's ready for a fight.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," I tell her as gently as I can, but now frustration is seeping into my voice. This is new to me, having to work to get people to trust me, and stabbing them with a knife isn't a good start.

"No, you just like stabbing things," she mutters under her breath.

"God Annie, I carry the knife because I'm scared out of my mind that someone is going to come and kill me. I got out of the Games a week ago, then someone sneaks up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. My brain still thought that you were a tribute."

"So you're crazy?" she asks me. The sharp accusation doesn't sound quite right in her soft voice.

"Probably a little, but I am getting better." She doesn't say anything for a long time, doesn't move at all. Blood continues to trickle down her forehead and onto her floor.

"I should help you with your head. Is that okay with you?" She just stares at me, her powerful gaze making me fidget uncomfortably. The only sound is the blood splattering in the puddle that's now getting big enough to make me nervous.

"Just give me a bandage and I'll be able to make it to the apothecary."

"That's over a mile away, and you don't have money to spend there anyway."

"What would you be able to do here anyway? Do you know how to fix this?"

"No," I have to admit. "But at least let me get Mags to drive you there." Now I'm thankful for the car that my parents had insisted on getting.

"I'm fine," she says. Then she turns around to leave, but sways unsteadily and has to grab onto the table for support. With more dignity than I expected, she straightens herself and glares at me. "Take me there, wait outside, and take me home."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And Finnick?" she asks, her eyes suddenly pleading. "Please help me to your car."

"No problem," I tell her. Then I gently take her arm and lead her out to where my car is parked. She leans her head back against the seat and closes her eyes as soon as she sits down.

"I'm going to get blood on the seats," she says. I laugh a little.

"Don't worry about it," I tell her. Then I jog over to Mags' house and knock on her door. I see her eye through the peep hole, making sure it isn't someone from the Capitol. She opens the door when she sees that it's just me.

"Please help me," I beg her. "I stabbed Annie Cresta with a knife." She grabs her coat without a single question and heads out to the car. I hand her the keys, then hop into the back seat beside Annie. Annie's eyes are open a little, but it's obvious that she's fighting to stay conscious.

"To the doctor?" Mags asks me.

"That's too expensive," Annie slurs.

"Doctor," I say. It's impossible not to notice how pale she's getting, the blood that's still flowing. Crap. I forget to stop the blood. I look around for something to use, but there's nothing. Mags wordlessly hands me her shawl. I wipe up a little of the extra blood, then press the shawl to her cut. Annie passes out a moment later.

I'm nothing but thankful when Mags pulls up in front of the doctor's office right afterwards. It's empty, as usual. There's only one doctor in the district, and she basically just sits around and waits for peacekeeper accidents. They're the only people other than victors that can afford it.

She whisks Annie away the second that we step into the building, so Mags and I are left alone in the waiting room.

"How'd that happen?" she asks me gently. I bury my face in my hands.

"She surprised me," I groan. I'm guilty enough that it hurts. All I can think about is how I promised to take care of that girl, how I promised to protect her, and now here I am, the person who hurts her.

"It isn't your fault," Mags says firmly. I look at her, and something about the way that she says it reminds me of what she said when I just get out of the Games. "Don't blame yourself for the Capitol's deeds."

It was something like that at least, and when I put two and two together, I'm pretty sure I know who's fault she's saying it is.

"I'm the one who stabbed her with the damn knife." Mags waves that off.

"You haven't recovered from the Games yet. If you had, that knife wouldn't have been in your hand in the first place."

It isn't your fault.

You haven't recovered from the Games yet.

I should blame the Games. I should blame the Capitol. But why? I survived. For most victors, the Games are a blessing. The ones that should be mad at the Capitol are the ones that don't make it. I'm fine. The Capitol has done nothing to me, not compared to the other tributes anyway. I should be able to handle this better than I am. I shouldn't be stabbing at everyone that comes up behind me. I'm weak.

"I don't want to talk about this," I mutter to Mags. She shakes her head, but doesn't push the matter any further.

Annie comes out of the room a half hour later. She had to get seven stitches and take some fancy Capitol medicine, but now she's fine. Tired, but fine.

"Thank God," I breathe, then run over and hug her. She squirms uncomfortably, so I let her go.

"What was that for?" she asks.

"I thought it was going to be so much worse. Do you have any idea how horrible I felt?" Her head tilts to the side and she looks at me like she's trying to figure something out.

"You cared that you hurt me?"

"Yes, I hurt someone who shouldn't have been hurt, and I broke my promise to your sister."

"Maybe I underestimated you," she admits. Then she gives me this small smile that's so sweet it makes it impossible not to smile back.

"Thank you," I tell her.

"For what?"

"Making me smile." She doesn't seem that impressed.

"You smile all the time."

"None of them are real. That's the first one that hasn't been forced since I've gotten back here."

"Then I guess you're welcome." Then she smiles again, bigger this time, and I know that her smiles are special.

"You aren't going to stab me this time, are you?" Annie says the words from right behind me, which is brave in my opinion. Or maybe she just realized that I'd already heard her come in. She had slammed the door when she came into the house, announcing her entrance.

"Nope, that costs me way too much money," I joke. She walks around my chair and plops down onto the couch across from me.

"I knew that's why you were so upset yesterday," she says.

"Still skeptical that I have the capacity to care for human life?" I ask her.

"Do you blame me?" she asks.

"Not one bit. But it is annoying." Her face scrunches up in distaste.

"I don't like being called annoying. It makes me sound pathetic." I don't know her really well yet, but that already makes sense to me. She's so subtle in everything, from her soft voice, to her quiet defiance of me yesterday when she wasn't going to let me help her. Well, except for eyes. They always seem to be screaming out what doesn't show anywhere else.

"You aren't annoying, it's just annoying that you don't seem to trust me."

"I've learned not to trust people before they've earned it," she says.

"I will earn it," I swear. I don't know if it's because of Arowana, or just because I see a challenge, but I do want this girl to trust me.

"If you say so," she says, then seems to suddenly remember something. "I'm sorry, I have to go home, so I should just say what I came here to say."

"Which is?"

"Thank you."

"You have no reason to thank me," I tell her.

"Yes. I do." Her words radiate sincerity, and the smile that accompanies them make me smile again. For the second time in two days, after not really smiling for weeks.

"You're welcome I guess. And I am sorry for stabbing you."

"I accept your apology," she says, then she gets up. "Now I do have to go. My mother is probably worrying. I got off of school an hour ago."

"Why don't you just hang out here tonight? I'll have someone contact your mother so she doesn't worry. My family usually comes over for supper, and I could take you down to the ocean afterwards." She bites her lip, and I can tell that she wants to go but doesn't think she should.

"I guess," she finally says.

"Thank you," I say, and I mean it. Annie Cresta is unlike any person that I have ever met, and I'm determined to get to really know her.