321This is the last fic in a trilogy, and it will have huge plot holes if you haven't read Fishing for People, or Eyes Like the Ocean. So, if this looks totally awesome and you don't want to feel left out, rush on over back the the page that you were just on, and please read them.
Now that that's finished, I have a few things. First, this whole thing is going to be entirely taken from Catching Fire and Mockingjay. All of the information is supposed to be right, but sometimes I misunderstand things, so if that happens, please tell me, and if whatever I type is factually wrong, then I will change it. Second, that last rule I just type goes out of effect during their mission to assinate Snow in Mockingjay, where I already admit Finnick won't die. Just incase anyone really likes that scene or something, and doesn't want to read this now. Third, I'll admit, that it is harder conforming my ideas around what Suzanne Collins already wrote, and what readers already have strong opinions about. I'd love to hear your opinions on how I'm doing, but please bear with me if some scenes may not seem quite right, because I may not quite be able to guess what Finnick is truly thinking or why he's saying things. It's just my best shot, and I'm begging you to respect that. Finally, this is no longer a Finnick/Annie story, although there will be a lot of that in the later chapters, when they're together in the Mockingjay half of the story. But until then, please don't be disappointed by the few times they interact.
That should be just about it. I hope you enjoy the final installment in my Finnick trilogy thing, and I hope you enjoy.
Oh, and I don't own any of this, at all. And this is for the whole story, because I tend to forget to put it in most of mine at all. I'll actually have to get around to that for some of them... Whatever. Enjoy.
Annie sits cross-legged in front of my while I tie knots in her hair, only keeping half an eye on the television screen. Daisy and Annie are both watching whole-heartedly, oohing at dresses they like. Quite frankly, I think it's kind of annoying. I know that I was big on Katniss, and I still am. But really, that fake romance is getting old fast. Now, our genius president is forcing every district in Panem to watch a seventeen year old girl try on dresses for a wedding that she was no doubt forced into.
For the past six months, Haymitch has been telling me everything Katniss has been saying and doing, as well as giving information on the Districts that are too far away for me to learn about. In exchange, I've imparted things that I learned on my last trip to the Capitol, right before Katniss and Peeta's victory tour, as well as giving him information on the Districts near 4. Well, and my district itself. Only a couple months ago, I'd taken to frequently visiting one of the centers where some of the Careers go to work out, and roaming around the more poor sections of the district, finding recruits. Most of the other victors had as well, and the word spread like wildfire.
About a month after that, the uprising came, and it went very quietly. Ever since Snow gave me my job, it seems like the number of peace keepers in the district has swelled immensely, no doubt because he knew that his actions could backfire if I ratted him out and people decided to do something about it. Because of that, tens of thousands of the white cloaked figures appeared immediately and squashed the thing before it started. Not many people died, and even though there was a lockdown for a week, everything is already back to normal.
Or so it seems. I can still feel the anger pulsing through my district, and I can feel the hope that the girl on fire's little stunt with the berries gave them.
"Oh, that one's so pretty," Daisy says, her eyes going wide when Katniss, who's now more or less her idol, appears on screen in another dress that to me, looks exactly the same as the ones she'd already tried on. Besides, I don't think it's pretty at all. Katniss doesn't do dresses, not wedding dresses anyway. She's too… scary. It doesn't look right.
My eyes drift down to Annie and I smile. She'd be perfect in a wedding dress, amazing and beautiful. And now, with Katniss here and the rebellion starting, maybe, just maybe, I will have a chance to actually marry her. That would more than compensate for having to watch the girl on fire day and night, hearing about every minute detail of her life.
"Let's get Katniss Everdeen to her wedding in style!" Caesar Flickerman booms eventually, and I let loose a sigh of relief.
"Thank God. I was about ready to keel over," I say, picking up the remote to turn off the television. Annie turns around, no doubt to scold me, but Caesar doesn't give her time to speak. He says to stay tuned for another big event.
"That's right," he explains. "This year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!"
"What the hell?" I mutter. Annie and Daisy look at me with questions in their eyes, but I have no answers. So we listen and wait. President Snow himself struts onto the stage with a small boy dressed in a while suit trails behind him, a wooden box in his hands. The old man drones on and one about a bunch of crap that no one cares about, and then he runs out of wind after telling us what the first two Quells were.
"And now," he concludes, "we honor our third Quarter Quell." The little boy steps forward and opens the box. It's filled with yellow envelopes, which I'm guessing will say what special twist will be in store this Quell. By the looks of it, whoever made the cards expects the Games to be going for a long, long time.
Snow grabs a card marked with a '75', then clears his throat.
"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."
Before I can even comprehend what he said, Annie's wails start ringing through the house. That's when it dawns on me.
Someone's going back. There are six males, four females that have won in our district. The odds are not in either of our favors. My heart sinks, and I have trouble concentrated, especially with Annie's wails in the background. It's nearly impossible to think coherently, and my head hurts from even trying.
"Annie," I finally whisper, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You aren't going back. I won't let you go back."
"He'll make me," she says, her teary eyes turning wild like they haven't for over a year. I can't do this now, I'm in no position to comfort hurt. My head is in a fog, and yet fresh dread settles in my stomach.
"No, you won't go in," I insist again, my voice breaking just slightly before I can finish.
"F-Finnick." I turn to look at Daisy, who I'd forgotten was there. She's watching me with wide, scared eyes, and I can see that she's trying not to cry.
"It'll be okay. There's no guarantee that I'm going to go," I say, again, trying to be comforting. But my voice is too hollow, and I'm sure that my fear is etched plainly across my face.
Thoughts come flying back into my mind, things that if they haven't completely left my memory, had at least been hiding out in the back of my head. Images of Titus flash before my eyes, or Arowana on her deathbed, and that girl from Seven with her wild red hair, an axe in her hand, ready to kill me… I shake my head furiously. Thinking like that won't work. Hell, I may not even go back. There's only a one in six chance that I'll have to return. And Annie won't have to either, not if luck is with us.
Yeah, and when has that ever happened?
I sit there and hold Annie, telling her again and again that she's going to be okay. Just minutes later, her parents are in the house, and they're holding her too. Daisy sits off to the said, muttering under her breath, and when I listen more closely, I figure out that she's actually praying.
"You know, Daisy. If there's a God, he kind of hates me. I wouldn't be asking him for help with this." She glares at me.
"Whenever something bad happens in your life, it's only to make you stronger." And with that, she bows her head again and resumes her mutter.
Watching her, I manage to find a very, very small silver lining to this. At least she won't have a chance at getting chosen this year, which she would have otherwise. But when I look towards Annie again, and when I think about going back myself, a very selfish part of me would rather have her be in danger than us. Not that I don't love my sister, but she'd be one in a million. The chance of her getting selected would be slim to none. But with Annie and I, well, I suppose it could get worse. Barely.
For the rest of the night, we sit there and try not to think of future possibilities. But by the next morning, the news has sunk in. My brain starts really thinking clearly again, and I start to realize a few things.
One- There is a very good chance, with Snow's opinion of me, and his knowledge of my hatred for him, that I will go back to the arena.
Two- That Katniss Everdeen, the girl whose already gotten several of the districts to rebel, is the only female victor from District 12. There's a good chance that the unknowing leader of the districts will soon be dead, if Snow can help it. Actually, I'm more than convinced that Snow probably had this whole idea staged as an idea to get rid of her for that one moment of brilliance where she got out the berries and lit the fire that had gotten the districts going.
Three- That if she's going in, the Gamemakers probably have specific orders to not allow her to make it back out.
And finally, Four- That I care more about this rebellion continuing than any fear I have of the Games. The other male victors are too old to really be much good, and Felix is the only one that I absolutely know is with us. Sure, the other ones did help slightly with organizing it in Four, and we've been including them in our plans, but I don't know them, and I don't trust them. So, if I'd really want Katniss to stay alive, then I would volunteer to go back and protect her.
Of course, that's kind of hypothetical, because I'm sure I won't get a chance to volunteer. Hell, if I know Snow, he'd probably make sure that every slip of paper in there has my name on it, just so I don't get any ideas about revealing just exactly why I've been sleeping with anything in the Capitol that moves for the last eight years.
I don't do that now, because not only do I really not feel comfortable sharing that little secret, but also because of Annie. But say that Snow instead sends her to the Games, and leaves me home. Say that she dies there. Or say that she goes into hiding, out of his reach. Then, I'd be free to say what I wanted, if I could work up the courage.
So I highly doubt that he's going to give me that chance. I'll be going back, almost doubtlessly, because even if by some miracle my name isn't drawn, I know that my life is less important than the Mockingjay's. I trust myself to protect her, and I know now that even if I die doing it, the districts would be better off.
Somehow, that acceptance, the realization helps me relax. I'm going back. Now, there's no fear. There's just that feeling, that adrenaline that makes me want to throw up, or maybe slit my throat. My grip on Annie gets just a little bit tighter, because when I think about it, some part of me is always going to want to return to the simplicity of the arena.
Wait, there is fear. As my brain continues to process the situation, the fear gets stronger and stronger. Not for myself, but for the people who could go into the arena with me. Johanna will, that's positive. She's the only female from Seven. My gut tightens again. Then I worry that even if Annie's name doesn't get drawn that Mags' will. She's over eighty now, and can barely walk. I know that something's going on inside her head as well, because her thoughts don't quite come as quickly than they used to, and her speech is garbled enough that I have to ask her to repeat every other thing she says. And she may get thrown into the arena. Then there's Haymitch. And Chastity. Chaff. All of them.
That's when I realize that no matter who gets picked, I can't just sit back and kill off all my friends for Katniss Everdeen. I know she's important, but even though I know I can kill someone who's a threat without batting an eye, I also realize that killing people who I know and trust will be impossible. This won't work. Something else needs to happen, something that will keep us all alive.
But what?
I take a deep breath. I don't know. Maybe I'll get lucky and it'll just be Johanna and me that go in. It's callous, but she won't care if she dies or not. She has no one, and I have a feeling that she's been living a kind of half-life since her mother was killed, but her feelings are so hard to actually make out that I'm just guessing. Then me, of course. I do have people to live for, and I don't want to know what Annie will do if I die.
I close my eyes. Take another deep breath.
Then I open them.
I'm a rebel. All of the people I worry about are rebels. And since when do rebels, leaders among the rebels, sit back and let someone else decide when they're going to die? No, no way in hell is snow going to throw me through his Games again. This time, his prized tribute, the golden boy, his lovely little servant who never held out any berries, who did promotional adds for the Games when he was asked, who smiled, and flirted, and laughed as his life was destroyed, isn't going to roll over and play dead. I'm through laughing, through running.
Right now, I know that Annie has protection. There are rebels, and if Snow comes and tries to kill her, people will stand against his people. They've fought once, and I can still feel the anger everywhere I go. Now, nothing is holding me back.
And if Snow thinks that I'm going to sit around and play nice while he throws me into an arena with people I care about, if he thinks that I'm going to be good Finnick and start going crazy with my trident as soon as I'm back inside the arena, well, then I have news for him.
I'm going to survive these Games, and so are as many people as possible. Because no matter what it takes, these Games are going to be different. I'll make sure of it.
"Annie," I whisper softly in her air. She turns to face me, and I feel sick at her tear-stained face, the dark circles under her eyes.
"I'm scared," she says.
"You don't have to be," I breath in her ear, hiding my lips with her hair. "I'll protect you."
She looks at me worriedly.
"They'll kill you." I shake my head, then gently let her go.
"No, they won't. Now I have to talk to Mags about this. 'Kay?" She nods very quietly, slowly getting up and going to sit with her father, whose been staring right at her every time I look at him. I know that he's probably pissed off, seeing me holding her and everything, because despite good first impressions, him and his wife are now convinced that I'm the devil incarnate, sent to earth to torture their daughter, but Annie has spent the last year begging and pleading my case as well as she can with all the incriminating evidence that suggests that I'm a cheating man-whore.
But right now, I don't care about his opinion of me. He'll take care of her while I visit Mags. That's what Annie needs, and he'll do it. So I give her a the best smile I can muster, and then leave to talk to Mags.
"Hey, Mags," I shout when I walk into the house. She's sitting at the table, clutching a cup of tea with wrinkled fingers.
"You heard?" she asks. I nod.
"I heard. You know, it's actually kind of upsetting. I was wondering if you'd like to go on a hike. I'll carry you, obviously, but I need some space to think freely."
"No," she says. Then, reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a letter. "From a friend in the Capitol. It'll help." She gives me a sad grin, then turns back to her tea.
"Thanks," I mutter, staring at the blank letter intently.
Not wanting to seem rude and eager to leave, I hesitate, but she snorts and waves me away. I grab the letter and hustle outside, then take off in a dead sprint down the sandy beach behind our houses, until I come to very familiar craggy rocks. Getting up the first one with a big leap, I quickly scale the next few until they even out into the steep path that I haven't walked for a very long time.
Memories flood my head, and I find my anger starting to grow. I think of Borglum, remember from back when he was mentoring Arowana up until he was shot. Then Eliza, who'd been my best friend until I showed up as me cheating asshole self and basically ruined that. Then I think of her dying, slowly and painfully.
They were both so alive, so there… then so gone.
My foot finds a rock and I send it flying, the same urge to kill Snow that I've felt for the last eight years flaring up like it does when I think of those things. But then I'm at the cave, surprisingly quickly with no one else to wait for.
I go in and sit, taking out the letter. I know that I didn't need to come here, but it's more peaceful, more quiet than anywhere else, and I know that there won't be any cameras zooming in on the thing from over my shoulder.
When I unfold the stiff paper, decorated with the seal of the Capitol, I'm nervous. My gaze skips directly to the bottom, and when I see who it's from, I relax again. Heavensbee. Perfect. I eagerly start to read it.
Dear Finnick,
As I'm sure that you've heard, President Snow has announced the conditions for the Quarter Quell. It truly is devastating, with everything finally turning out so well in the war. But I also have an idea that can turn this entire thing into an advantage for us.
If you have not heard, Seneca Crane was murdered as punishment for allowing Katniss Everdeen to humiliate the Capitol. In response to this, I volunteered for the position of Head Gamemaker, and I have a lot planned for this Games.
Do not for a second think that I'll be able to get everyone out worry free, I don't mean to get your hopes up like that. No, I have to do my job very convincingly, and you'll still have to fight, but I plan on getting the knowingly rebelling Districts together and working out plans with them that I've already started.
I have several people who'll deliver you messages, and several ways that will allow you to communicate with the others involved in this plan.
You will learn more as I correspond with the other victors, as well as I learn more about the details of the Quell.
I wish you luck, and do pray that the odds will be ever in your favor. Thank you for listening, Finnick, and someone else will write to you soon, along with instructions on how to reply and relay information.
Now, unless you wish serious harm to befall all of us, destroy this letter. When it is safely disposed of, I suggest that you use your time wisely. Even you could be doing things to be getting ready for the Games, no matter how firmly you think otherwise. I'm already confident that you have enough faith in the rebels that you will be entering the arena, as I am planning for. You would help us there more so than if you were a mentor. I apologize for being so callous, but you must understand the importance of your presence in the arena.
I have no written enough. All that I ask is that you train hard, and make sure to discuss this with the other victors that you completely and utterly trust.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely, P.H.
I smile as I set the letter down on a rock in front of me. It's now becoming clear that I'm not the only one who's going to make these Games hell for the Capitol.
The fear lessens again as the anticipation grows.
The Seventy Fifth Hunger Games are only months away, and two dozen victors are returning to the Capitol. And right now, a number of those victors are going to make sure that it's a choice Snow's going to regret for the rest of his life.