My newest fanfiction... It's been a while since I've written anything I like enough to post here.

I read Hunger Games in July, and was instantly hooked. Especially by Finnick Odair (who wouldn't be?) I didn't like how we know practically nothing about his Hunger Games, and his love of Annie, and how he feels about the relationships he's forced to have, so I decided this would be a good place to start.

Sorry for the unoriginal chapter names, I have a limited imagination when it comes to them.

Please ignore the messed up tenses in the first chapter – I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing after a very long time. Any one brave enough to be my beta? I'll be first to admit I need one.

I do not own the Hunger Games (although I wish I did, then Finnick would be mine ^^)

Chapter One: The Reaping

As always, I awoke to the sound of the tide gently hitting the beach. However, instead of looking upwards at the ceiling, dirty blonde hair blocked my vision.

"Ariel, it's too early," I groaned automatically.

"Me 'n Dad are going fishing now and Dad said I had to wake you up and see whether you wanted to come."

I glanced through the window and saw that the sun had barely risen. Usually I wouldn't be awake for another six hours or so. But I understood why my Dad and sister wanted me to go with them – they wanted to do the thing that my family loved, just in case I didn't come home tonight.

"Okay. I'll be ready in a minute."

Ariel grinned and gave me a one-armed hug before running out the room. In comparison with her energy, I crawled out of bed like a slug, rubbing my eyes furiously to try and wake myself up a little.

This was my third year of being in the reaping and I was almost used to the nervous feeling that made my stomach tie itself in knots. I dressed and ran my hands through my hair to make it lie smoother, trying to push back my anxiety. After all, I was Finnick Odair, I always kept my cool.

As soon I was under control, I wandered downstairs and grabbed a bread roll before joining Ariel and Dad on the beach that was technically our back garden. The sand was cold under my toes; the sun had not had enough time to warm it yet. Our family fishing boat was bobbing gently on the small waves about fifty metres offshore. Ariel was sitting in the boat, organising the rods, spears and nets while my Dad kept hold of one of the mooring posts. They both smiled at me as I waded into the water and lazily swam up to them.

"Coming up?" Dad asked.

I shook my head. "No, I'm going to swim this morning." As I always did. If there was a chance to swim, I took it.

Swimming in the freezing water helped wake me up and focus on the day ahead of me. We would get back late and with more fish than normal, because we were the only family who went fishing on reaping day. Once we were home, Dad would go off to the market to sell most of our catch and buy a nice dessert for the evening while Ariel cooked lunch and I got ready. Then we would eat lunch – which would most likely be indigestible, because what eight year old can make a decent cooked meal? – and then go to the reaping.

I could feel Ariel's eyes watching me as I swam, and I felt the anxiety radiating off her. I grimaced and dove under the water to avoid the emotions. In the sea everything had a muted quality to it. The water was dark, I could only see the silver blurs of fish as they swam past. I was numb from the cold, so all feeling was cut off, and no sound reached my ears. It was a calm, silent world that I would have stayed in forever if my lungs hadn't started complaining loudly. I kicked upwards and resurfaced, gladly drawing in the fresh lungful of air. Ariel and Dad had stopped the boat a few hundred metres behind me, so I quickly swam back to join them.

Dad pulled me up out of the water as I approached them, and I took my normal place next to Ariel. The smooth piece of wood that we used as a seat felt warm to my cool skin. Small bits of seaweed stuck to my body like leeches.

I turned to grin at Ariel and opened my arms. "Want a hug?"

She wrinkled her nose at me before pulling a towel out from under the seat and chucking it at me. "Once you're clean, please."

I rubbed the soft material over my arms and bare torso as the other two threw the nets over board and grabbed spears. As soon as I was clean, I embraced Ariel in a bear hug that made her squeal and hit me on the head.

Neither of us wanted to break the hug first – that's what reaping day does to everyone, makes them ridiculously sentimental – but Dad's pointed look at the abandoned spear made me release Ariel. She picked up her spear as I reached under the seat and grabbed my trident. I couldn't remember a time when I didn't have my trident. I've gotten so used to it that it is almost an extension to my arm now.

We all slipped into our fishing modes (staring at the water for a sign of life, spears and trident poised and ready to kill). We ignored the straining ropes of the net – it would pick up more fish the longer we left it. Ariel was the first on the boat to catch a fish, her spear slipping into the water like lightening, then pulling back with a small herring on the end. I smiled proudly at her as she threw it into the bucket in the middle. Terrible cook she may be, how many other nine year olds could spear a fish so precisely?

I was so busy smiling at my little sister that I only just managed to bring my trident down in time to spear a large trout. I chucked it into the bucket and winked at Ariel, who was gaping at the large fish.

"You'll catch something that big one day soon," I promised and went back to staring at the sea.

We hauled in the net when the sun was getting high in the sky. Along with the fish we had speared, we had enough to buy a really nice dessert for the evening.

"Good fishing," my Dad said solemnly as we rowed the boat back to our beach. "I'll go sell it at the market while you get ready, okay, Finnick?"

"Great," I said hollowly. "Buy something with chocolate for dessert tonight, please? We haven't had chocolate in ages."

"If it's what you want."

We didn't speak again after that.

When the boat touched the shore, it was almost noon. The reaping would start in precisely one hour. Ariel made me some sludgy fish soup while I dressed in my reaping clothes – black trousers and a sea-blue shirt. Both were new and unworn.

The clock seemed to speed up as I ate my lunch with Ariel sitting beside me – her own bowl of soup untouched. I could see her small fists clenched on her lap. I put my spoon down and gently prised her hands open.

"I'm coming back, you know?" I said to comfort her. I sounded so sure that for a moment I believed myself. Then I remembered I was a year older and my name had been submitted an extra time. That piece of paper might tip the odds against me.

Three times? It can't hurt me that much, I told myself. There are people who have to sign up for tesserae, they'll have their names in there eight or nine times. And I'm only fourteen. Even if I do get picked, someone might volunteer... It's not an uncommon occurrence in District 4.

But those were just words to comfort me. There was still a chance I would get reaped today.

As if hearing my thoughts, Ariel said, "But what if you don't?"

"I will," I said simply and went back to eating my soup. It was getting cold and becoming even harder to stomach.

Outside, I watched as the sun climbed higher into the sky. The weather seemed to be mocking us – how could the sun be smiling while twenty three children were going to be sentenced to death today? But the weather didn't care about what was happening with us humans; it didn't reflect the mood of the Districts. Maybe it was celebrating, like the people in the Capitol who were eagerly awaiting the beginning of the sixty fifth Hunger Games. They were probably talking about what the arena was going be this year, wondering how interesting the deaths will be, not caring that it is children dying for their entertainment.

Dad came back carrying a huge chocolate and vanilla cake. I stared at it, my mouth falling open. Even though we were rich, I swear we didn't have enough money to buy something that extravagant. Last year we had a small sponge cake with fresh berries to celebrate.

Ariel, like me, was stunned. She dipped a finger into the mountain of whipped cream at the top and tasted it delicately.

"This is so yummy!" she squealed and scraped a little more off the top. She offered the next dollop of cream to me, and I experimentally put in my mouth. It melted on my tongue, filling my mouth with the most delicious tastes. Traces of vanilla and chocolate were mixed in with the smooth cream.

"How much did this cost?" I asked Dad in shock as Ariel plucked a chocolate flake off the side. I followed her example. They tasted just as divine as the cream.

"We won't be eating anything but fish for the next month," Dad answered with a smile. "But I thought we should treat ourselves. Although the way you two are going, there won't be any left by the time we get back."

His warning didn't stop Ariel and me cutting off big chunks to eat while we walked to the square. After a half-hearted protest, he accepted an extra large slice from Ariel.

"We're going to be as fat as the mayor by the time we finish these," Dad joked.

The mayor of District Four was a walking tub of lard. District mayors generally got a large food allowance from the Capitol, and seeing as our mayor lived alone; he took it as his personal duty to eat all of the food provided for him.

"They'll have to roll me into the reaping pens," I added.

Ariel snorted. "That'll stop the girls swooning every time one of your head lice jumps in their direction."

"Are you kidding? I would be an idol if I was fat. They would erect statues celebrating my beauty. And I don't have head lice; I think you are confusing me with yourself."

"I don't have head lice either!"

"Do too," I teased.

She stuck her tongue out at me. "If you're going to be rude, then I won't tell you what I heard yesterday!"

My sister knew me too well. I had a weakness for secrets. "I take it back! My head is crawling with head lice, while your perfect, amazing, beautiful head is completely free of anything remotely unpleasant. You are, after all, the image of innocence and beauty and I would kneel before you if the ground wasn't so dirty and I wasn't wearing brand new trousers."

She pretended to consider this before pulling my ear down to whisper, "Camela wants you to be her boyfriend and is planning to ask you after the reaping."

"Thank you, little oracle of wisdom," I said as I straightened and started walking again. "I will have to run away from her, then."

Dad shushed us as we approached the square. We were one of the last families to arrive and the large area was packed full of people. I checked out names off and hugged my Dad and Ariel – who had lost all of their previous happiness – before making my way over to the boy's pen. As I walked past the girls, I saw one of Ariel's older friends, Annie. I realised it was her first reaping year, which would explain why she was standing near the back with the other twelve year olds. She caught my eye and I gave her a smile and a wink. I heard at least five girls sigh as I made my way into the boys section. My school friends jerked their heads in the direction of the sighing girls and rolled their eyes. They were pretty much used to me getting all of the attention from the opposite sex, though it was easy to tell that it was aggravating for them.

There was light applause as the mayor heaved himself onto the stage. As he began the traditional talk of how proud he was to be announcing this year's Hunger Games, I glanced behind me and caught my family's attention. We all grinned and looked at the mayor. I smothered laugh.

The speech winded down as this year's mentors, Cade – who won the Games four years ago – and the middle-aged Mags – who was alive during the Dark Days – were introduced. Cade smiled and waved at the cameras as his name was read. Mags just nodded grimly. She obviously wasn't one of the ones who believed it was a great honour to be reaped.

Then District Four's escort, Daphne, appeared from one side of the stage. She wore her traditional lime-green polka dot dress and gave us all a beaming smile before taking her place in-between the two big reaping balls. Daphne had been my District's escort for as long as I can remember. She was well loved in the Capitol and was given this place immediately when she signed up for the job. Every year, to mark another 'glorious' Hunger Games, she got an extra tattoo on her body. That year's addition seemed to be a four pointed star on her collarbone that changed colour every few seconds.

"It's lovely to be back in District Four," she chirped into the microphone once the mayor has stopped talking. "I have missed you all in the year that I have been away." The cameras zoomed in on her smiling face as she continued to talk about what an honour it is to be able to help every tribute from District Four and how she hoped never to leave.

The energy re-entered her voice as she started the actual reaping. "And now, let's start the 65th Hunger Games! Ladies first." She dipped her hand into the large glass bowl and rummaged around before drawing out a tiny slip of white paper. I prayed that it was not someone I knew well. "Danty Higgs!"

I relaxed slightly as the unfamiliar name was read out. A tall, skinny eighteen year old shakily made her way up to the stage. I didn't even recognise her, but I could tell she was one of the less well off people in District Four. Her obviously second-hand clothes hung off her thin frame and her damp brown hair clung limply to her face. She seemed more resigned that shocked, so she probably had her name in extra times for tesserae. Daphne asked for any volunteers, but there were none.

It was like that some years. District 4 was not like 1 and 2, which had so many volunteers every Hunger Games that they had to have third and fourth reapings just to get one tribute. Some years were like that here – the year that Cade won, we were forced to have seven reapings to decide the boy tribute. Those years are the years that we win. However sometimes the Careers don't see themselves as ready, and there is not one volunteer.

"And now, let's draw the boy tribute!"

My muscles contracted again as Daphne put her hand in the second glass ball, while telling the audience how she couldn't wait to see what brave pair of tributes our district offered her this year.

She took out a slip of paper and unfolded it.

Please not me, I begged silently.

She read it, and then opened her mouth to read out the name that was printed carefully scripted in small, black letters.

Please not me.

"Finnick Odair!" she calls.

Of course. It's me.

Before the cameras could focus on my face, I composed my face into a blank mask. Daphne called my name again and smiled as I made my way jerkily up the few steps to the platform. As I faced the crowd I had enough sense to straighten my spine and place a look of confidence on my face, the whole of Panem was watching me after all.

"What a looker we've pulled this year," Daphne jokes and winks. "The magnificent Finnick Odair, everyone!"

To me, the world had taken on a strange, disjointed quality. The sounds that reached my ears didn't match with what I was seeing. I could hear the audience politely applauding Danty and I as Daphne chattered away but none of the words made sense. I watched the children in the pens – all of them with looks of intense relief on their faces. Even my friends didn't seen upset by name being called, although that wasn't unsurprising – it was me or them. Camela Lockhert wore a mild frown as she looked at me, but nothing more. But there were people that did care. Two people to whom it mattered that I was standing on the stage. I could see my Dad tightly holding on to tiny Ariel, but the expressions on their faces were lost to me – I couldn't focus on them long enough to understand.

The jab of pain as a Peacekeeper poked me with the end of his gun woke me up slightly. Sounds that were muted regained volume and quality, while the visual world unblurred. It didn't make what had just happened any better, the fact that I could now clearly see Ariel as she sobbed into my Dad's shirt while he looked around him in a daze. The fact that I could hear the relieved chatter of the families at the back that their sons and daughters hadn't be picked. The Peacekeeper's gun dug into my back again as a group of them surrounded me and led me off the stage, into the guest rooms in the Justice Building where I would say goodbye to my family.

It was a luxury suite, with carpets that mimicked the thick sand that gave way under your feet. That small texture helped me to relax slightly. I closed my eyes and imagined myself on the beach outside my house again, the sand soft between my toes.

My eyes opened as Ariel came in with my Dad. She ran straight into me, and wrapped her arms around my neck in a strangle hold.

I gently prised her arms off me. "Gently there, Ariel."

She burst into tears as I picked her up, balancing her on my hip like I used to do when she was smaller. Dad came and tugged me gently onto the couch, before hugging me close to him.

I murmured quiet consolations to Ariel as I rested my head on Dad's shoulder. We barely moved a muscle in the half an hour time slot together. The Peacekeepers opened the door to call my family out. Ariel walked next to my Dad, clinging onto his hand. She turned and I smiled at her, trying to say all the things I needed to.

Before the Peacekeepers could stop her, she was clambering back into my arms. I took a deep, steadying breath – taking in the smell of saltwater from her hair one last time before she was taken away from me. As a Peacekeeper pulled her out of my arms, she placed a small bracelet decorated with shells in my hand. My mother had given it to me when I was young, but Ariel had loved playing with so much that I had presented it to her on her seventh birthday. It had never left her wrist since. I could only watch as the Peacekeeper handed her over to Dad, the bracelet hanging limply in my hand.

"Ariel, I'll tell you a secret," I called to her. "I love you." I caught her green eyes one last time before the door slammed shut.

I sat down heavily on one of the plush chairs. What is the point of being beautiful, if it doesn't even help you survive?

Over the next two hours I had a steady stream of visitors. Some stayed only for a few seconds to wish me good luck before darting out the room as if my presence would curse them. Others sat and talked with me for ten or twenty minutes, giving me tips and advice on how to survive. Annie Cresta, Ariel's twelve year old friend, came in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before running out, a pink blush staining her face.

A group of my school friends barged in the room at one point. They all had their heads bowed with looks of such grief on their faces you would have thought I was already dead and they were viewing my body. I mentioned it to them; and they lightened up and cautiously joked back. By the end of twenty minutes, they were all smiling and laughing, clapping me on the back as they left.

One stopped in the doorway and said, "You know, you could win. Easily. Just make sure you kill the District 1 and District 2 tributes early."

"They'll be dead in a flash," I replied. "I'm fully intent on coming back here one day."

He nodded and left the room, soon to be replaced by a hysterical Camela Lockhert. I spent the next visitors slot awkwardly patting her on the back as she sobbed onto my shirt and professed her undying love to me. Following her were several other distraught girls, who all seemed to have been hiding their true feelings for me during all the years I've known them. I thought back to all of the times my friends had been jealous of my instant success with girls. They really weren't missing out on anything.

I was almost glad when the car pulled up at the Justice Building to take me to the train. But as I watched the distance between myself and my home increasing, all I could think about was how much I wanted to be sitting in my kitchen, eating the rest of the cake with my father and my sister. How much I wanted to be safe.