Chapter Text
Finnick Odair stood at the shoreline in District 4, watching. Waiting. Though people in the Capitol may have thought the opposite, he could be patient. He could stand until the balls of his feet ached and the muscles in his calves began to cramp, and he could stand a little longer until his knees began to buckle and his head started to spin. He had done it before, he could do it again. Sometimes that was how he fished. He would just watch and wait as his traps lured in some poor crab, tethered to the sandy coast by a pole he had set up. This was no different.
Only a tad more painful. Lonely. Cold.
If his mother were still alive, she would be chastising him now. Finnick Odair, get your ass back into my house or so help me, I won’t let you swim for a week! she always threatened when he stood out on the moist sands as the chilly wind nipped and bit at his cheeks. But she was gone. Had been for a while now. If Mags could talk—if she could see him right now—perhaps it would be her shouting for him to get out of the cold. Perhaps it would be her pinching his ear and dragging him into the house and before a roaring hearth, protected and safe from the cold.
But she wasn’t here. Not today at least, and Finnick wasn’t even sure if she knew he was in District 4. He wasn’t sure anyone knew.
He wanted to keep it that way. Just for today. Just long enough to wait.
To wait for a boat that would row in from the west. A boat carrying a young girl with brown skin and inky-black hair that tumbled in waves down her back. She would wave to the shore, to Finnick, and she would flash a grin so wide, Finnick knew her round cheeks had to hurt. But when she showed off the gap between her crooked teeth, he was certain it didn’t matter to her. How could it when she would look so happy?
Finnick waited. There was no boat. There hadn’t been in ten years—almost ten years, he reminded himself. Her ghost had not come to haunt him yet. Not like she always did every year on the same day without fail. He would be trapped in bed, staring with unblinking eyes as sleep paralyzed his body, and he would see her again. He always saw her above him, pinned to his ceiling, dripping blood into his mouth as he soundlessly screamed for someone to free him. For someone to see what he saw. For someone to climb a ladder and unpin the girl from the ceiling, and bury her at sea. Where she belonged.
Where she felt more at home than an old, decrepit shack just a short ways up the sandy dune that sloped into the shoreline.
Finnick tore his eyes from the sea for a moment and looked up the hill where beachgrass swayed in the cold wind. He thought he would go up, do the short hike, and simply step inside of the old home. No one had lived in it for almost ten years anyway, so no one would care.
No one ever cared what he wanted to do. They all just let him…simply do.
(The Capitol’s Golden Boy, they all called him. He can do whatever he wants.)
But Finnick did not ascend the dune. Not today.
(He never did.)
He turned back to the sea. Waiting. Watching. Breathing so quietly and softly that if someone was to walk up to him, they might not even think him to be alive. A mere statue—a monolith—sculpted on the shore by brine and seawater. And sometimes, he wondered if his feet were trapped in the sand. If standing on the shore for so long made the sand crawl over his bare feet. If the sand began to trap him, drag him down into the earth, further and further until maybe only his head would remain one day. Waiting. Watching as the tide grew high and drowned him.
A brown speck rolled in from the west, teasing the horizon as the sun began to rise higher into the sky. Grey clouds trapped any bright light from reflecting off the pellucid waves, and Finnick knew as thunderclouds rolled in that it would rain soon. Perhaps there would be lightning too—he could always taste it in the air when a storm was coming, could feel it prickling across the back of his neck like a lover’s touch. Finnick looked up to the sky for just a moment. Just long enough to hear a thunderclap booming.
It would rain, he knew that now.
Just like that day.
Finnick blinked hard and snapped his head towards the sea, netting in one hand and spear in another. The waves were choppy, biting and fighting with one another, and any poor fool trapped on them was sure to meet a fate similar to Finnick’s father. Any experienced fisherman knew that. Unfortunately, Finnick’s father had not been the best fisherman—that had always been his mother.
A downpour was going to start falling soon and he lifted his spear arm up, shielding his eyes from the first wave of drizzling rain. He narrowed his vision in on the speck coming from the west. It was…a boat. A small rowboat and the person on it was…Finnick took a step closer to the wild waves that crashed against the shoreline with a vengeance, and as he squinted his eyes to try and focus even more, they suddenly widened. It was a girl. Young, if he could tell at all. Maybe the same age as him.
Finnick raised his arm and waved.
“Row with the current!” he shouted. But he didn’t think the girl heard him. He didn’t think she could. Not when the sea groaned and grumbled as the wind whipped it about.
Finnick tossed his netting to the side and he jabbed his spear into the sand. He took off across the shore, waving his arms wildly in the hopes that she would see him. He called out to her, “The current! Go with the current!” Over and over again he tried to grab her attention, hopping and skipping across the sand in any attempt to get her attention.
A wave crashed just in front of him and Finnick covered his eyes for a moment, just to shield his face from the salty water, but when he looked out to sea again, the boat was—
Finnick scrambled to pull his shirt off and he knew—god he knew—what he was doing was stupid. That what he was doing would get him in so much trouble. His mom would grab his ear and drag him home if she knew he was doing this. Finnick knew his teachers would be livid, that they would scream at him in front of the class for how stupid he was being. But if he just left…if he simply left her to drown, how could he live with himself?
You’ll drown too, the voice of his teachers and mentors hissed. Just like your father.
But so would the girl if he turned around and walked away as if he never saw her.
Finnick couldn’t do that. Too big a heart, just like your father, his mom always said.
Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Finnick ran into the water, fighting the crashing waves against his legs and thick sand around his feet. The minute the water came up to his hips, he dove in. Finnick had always been good at swimming; that was what his mom told him. Practically born in the water, she said once. If you had come out with gills, fins, and scales, I wouldn’t have been surprised!
But Finnick didn’t have gills, or fins, or scales, and he had to fight the sea with every short stroke of his arms and legs. He had to surface for air, gulping it down before a wave could crash over him and send him spinning. Weight and pressure pummeled him at every angle and Finnick knew that if he lingered too long in one spot, it would take ten times as long to move forward even half a stroke, so he streamlined his body—make yourself as flat as possible, Finnick, and take short strokes to adjust to the water if you have to—and though salt stung his eyes and water tried to fill his mouth, he did as his teachers told him. He did what felt right.
The waves fought him. They raged and roiled around him, and they tried to pummel him down. Down until he could never resurface again. But if Finnick Odair was nothing else, he was a good swimmer, and he had been trained. Not just as a fisherman’s son, not just as a boy of District 4, but a career as well, and every future tribute in District 4 knew how to swim. The good ones at least, and Finnick had always been told in training that if he was reaped, he would be one of the best Careers in the arena.
His mom hated hearing that, but to be reaped was an honor in District 4, and Finnick knew that if he was, his mother would be so proud of him. And now, though she would be upset at first, she would be proud of him for saving a girl! Finnick knew she would!
A wave splashed against Finnick’s face as he tilted it up to take a deep breath, and he sputtered to keep from choking, but in his momentary panic, another wave crashed against his side, and Finnick gasped at the searing pain that erupted in his ribs. In his lungs as he gulped down the sea water. The young boy straightened up, treading water as best he could as he coughed up the salty water as best he could. Rain pelted his face and he spun in circles to avoid swallowing more as the waves kept coming and coming, and he tried to peer over them, stretching his neck as much as possible—until it ached—to find the capsized boat and the girl who had been in it, and he swam forward a little bit more, eyes locking onto a crest of dark brown over the grey waves, and he—
Finnick found it and with a deep inhale that made his chest ache, he dove into the water once more. Short strokes. Take a short breath. Short strokes. Another breath on the other side. Left. Right. Left. Right. Arm. Kick. Cup. Pull. Finnick knew it all and despite the burn in his lungs, the tightening of his muscles in the cold water, the numbness spreading in his fingertips and toes, and the stinging pain in his side, he kept pushing forward. He kept cutting through and against the current—he knew he shouldn’t, but how else could he reach her?—and finally, finally, he came upon the overturned rowboat.
He latched onto the side, digging his fingers into a hole in the wooden paneling. If he was getting splinters, he didn’t care. He couldn’t even feel his fingers at this point. Not even the adrenaline could keep his teeth from chattering painfully against each other. The clacking echoed in his mind alongside the torrential downpour, and Finnick gulped down air as he searched the water.
“Hello!” he called out, snapping his head around to try and find the girl. “Hello!”
Finnick clenched his jaw, trying to stop his chattering teeth. Anything to lessen the amount of raucous sounds pounding in his head. Anything to try and hear the girl’s cries for help. His eyes were wide. Frantic. Wild. And his calls echoed back with silence. With thunderclaps. With a lightning bolt cutting across the almost black skies. And no girl calling for help.
Mouth beginning to water and an acidic burn knocking in the back of his throat, Finnick swallowed back the urge to vomit. He had to find her. Quick. Either she would drown or he would. Or the cold would take them both. And Finnick wasn’t intent on his mom being so upset with him about it that she would find a way to bring him back and give him a firm talking to. He hated those.
“Hello?” he shouted again.
“He—“
Finnick’s head snapped behind him, and his heart raced as he caught sight of her. She was drowning. He knew she was by the way she clawed at the water. As her hazel eyes flashed only with fear and desperation, something he remembered seeing in a District 4 tribute’s eyes last year right before she was killed—Aleah had been her name. Finnick knew her from training school. She had met her death at the end of a Capitol mutt to speed up the games. This girl was about to meet hers simply because she was exhausted.
Inhaling sharply, Finnick threw himself into the water and cut through it as best he could. He swam right to her, and the moment his fingers brushed against her arm, he snatched it—he refused to let go, even as the waves tumbled ever harder upon them and roared with the tumultuous sky.
“I got you!” he cried out, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Hold onto my back! We’ll” —he bobbed up and down, trying to keep his head above water— “hold onto the boat!”
The girl, looking drowned like a cat, only nodded, tears bubbling along her lash line. Finnick tried to smile.
“It’ll be okay!”
(He hoped it would be.)
The girl wrapped her arms around his neck and Finnick, though it took twice as long to get back to the boat, carried her to the capsized hull of wood. He grabbed onto a plank and nodded at the girl. “Climb up onto the keel!”
“Okay…” she whispered. Quiet. Hoarse. The word fell from her quivering lips as if it was hard even to think of speaking.
Finnick helped her up, pushing her up along the hull and then onto the keel, and he waited until he was certain she was secured on the wooden ridge before he dragged himself up. His arms screamed in agony—exhausted and burning from fighting the current—and he almost fell back into the water before he felt a small hand wrap around his biceps. He looked up, surprise coloring his cheeks as he met the girl’s hazel eyes. She tried to smile and then she was pulling, dark features crinkled with the strain of effort as she tried her damndest to haul Finnick up. He scrambled up and she almost went flying back into the water, but he grabbed her forearms, yanking her into him.
She collapsed into him and Finnick straddled the boat’s keel, wrapping the girl tightly to him. She shivered against him, teeth chattering and sobs rattling through her slight frame. Finnick wanted to shiver too. He was cold too. He was freezing right now and utterly terrified of the angry clouds above them both, but he steeled himself as best he could and maybe he was gripping the girl a tad too hard, but he didn’t think she minded all that much when she slumped against him so heavily. She felt more dead than alive—cold, heavy, a husk instead of a body.
But Finnick still held on.
“My name’s Finnick,” he said suddenly, looking down at the dripping mess of inky-black hair that hung dead around the girl’s face. “Finnick Odair.”
Hiccuping, she slowly lifted her face, no longer pressing it into his bare chest. If she had the energy to lift her arms, Finnick was certain she would have wiped the tears, sea water, and snot that stained her brown skin. She blinked slowly, hazel eyes so large on her face that he wasn’t sure they even belonged to her.
“Na…Nadine,” she hiccuped. Again, so quiet. She was so quiet. “Nadine…Cl-Clement.”
Finnick tried to smile despite the chills that possessed him. “I’m thirteen!”
He noticed there was a hint of blue around her pupils.
“Me too…”
Looking around, Finnick hummed. He needed to keep talking. To distract her. Him too.
“Why’re you out here?”
“Wanted” —she buried her face into his chest again— “fish.”
“Out here?”
“Mhmm. Sister likes…she likes big fish.” Nadine tucked her hands into her chest, making a few small motions with her trembling fingers. “Sells them…at…at the market.”
Finnick furrowed his brows. “Why wasn’t she out here then?”
Nadine was quiet.
And she remained quiet, the only sounds coming from her being that of an almost silent wheeze, chattering teeth, and soft sniffles. Finnick pursed his lips and let her rest, tightening his hold on her. As long as she didn’t fall asleep, then it was fine. He supposed they didn’t need to talk. Someone would find them soon.
And soon they did.
Finnick thought it was maybe an hour by the time a rescue came. The waves had flattened substantially and the rain had lessened into nothing more than a drizzle as men reached for Nadine to pull her into the new boat. Finnick climbed over after her and he was seated between two men, beside her. A black blanket was laid over her shoulders and a blue one was laid over Finnick’s. But at the sight of her shivering even more, he lifted his arm with his blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. She turned her big eyes up to him for just a moment, and though exhaustion darkened the circles beneath them, she seemed taken aback.
“We’re friends now,” Finnick said, forcing a smile onto his chapped—and undoubtedly bluing lips.
“We are?”
“Mhmm! I saved your life.”
Perhaps it came off cocky. Perhaps he didn’t deserve to be cocky and prideful in that really, he had saved her. But he was cold. Wet. Tired. And he wanted nothing more than a cup of soup and to be sitting next to his mom on the couch in front of the fire. But she wasn’t there. Not right now. So, he would go for the next best thing: leaning into the warm feeling in his chest at the idea of…of having a new friend. He didn’t have many. Boys his age didn’t like him, and all the girls just giggled around him. Nadine didn’t seem to do either. So maybe they could be friends!
Nadine frowned a moment and looked down at her fingers, fiddling with the frayed edges of the blanket. “Okay,” she said.
Finnick beamed. “Really?”
“Sure,” she mumbled, peering up at him through dark lashes. “I don’t have…lots of friends.”
“Neither do I!”
“Okay.” She twisted her lips for a moment and Finnick leaned over, trying to get a good read on her. His mom always said he was good at that. Nadine glanced at him. “You can call me Nadi then. My sister calls me that.”
“Nadi?” She nodded. Finnick grinned and leaned back, bouncing his knees excitedly. “I like Finnick just fine, but if you ever think of something—“
“Fish.”
Finnick blinked slowly. “Huh?”
“Like a fish,” Nadine said softly. The corners of her lips twitched up. “You swam like a fish.”
“Yeah, but, nicknames usually—“
“Fish.”
(The three men in charge of rescuing the pair only exchanged looks and secret smiles, chuckling at the two kids. Weirdos, one of them mouthed to the others, and they agreed. What two kids almost drowned in a storm and then talked about the logistics of nicknames as if nothing had happened?)
“Okay…” Finnick drawled out. “Fish it is, I guess.” He pouted a little at that. Nadi was a cool nickname but she called him ‘Fish’? A part of him wondered if he should have just let her drown. He wouldn’t have! But…but as he huffed at the idea Nadi had, he wondered if he should have. Maybe he should just take his blanket back, he thought. But even as he thought it, his arm didn’t leave her trembling shoulders.
(Nadine smiled softly to herself, giggling in her head as if she was the funniest person to ever exist. Fish was funny—really funny.)
And Finnick’s arm didn’t leave Nadine’s shoulder even as they were brought back to shore. One of the rescuers helped them both out of the boat, and the minute Finnick’s feet touched land, he felt his mom’s arms encircling him.
“Oh my sweetest boy,” she cried and heaved, movements frantic as if she didn’t know what to do with herself. She grabbed his face, cupping it in her hands and she pressed kisses to his cheeks, eliciting a groan from him. “You foolish, foolish boy! What in God’s name were you—“
Finnick nodded to the side, and his mom’s sea-green eyes drifted over to where Nadine stood, soaked and trembling on the sand.
“Oh…”
Without hesitation, his mom ripped off her own jacket and scrambled to Nadine, wrapping her up in it and enveloping her in the blanket as a second layer. Finnick smiled over at his new friend as his mom worried over her.
“Her name’s Nadine,” he told her.
“Nadine?” His mom rubbed her hands up and down Nadine’s arms. “I’ll bring you to our home first, get you warmed up, and I’ll make a call to your mo—“
“Sister.”
Finnick’s mom pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “Alright. Alright, come along with Finnick and I, and I’ll make a call to your sister, alright?”
Nadine’s hazel eyes flickered to Finnick and he shot her a thumb’s-up. He wanted her to come over. He could show her his cool fish hook collection that was once his dad’s. He never had anyone to show it to!
Nadine bit her cheek and nodded slowly. “Okay…Mrs Odair.”
(Finnick’s mother, Lia, looked between her son and this girl and she caught the small smiles exchanged between them. She wanted to wring Finnick out for being so stupid, but seeing this slight girl in front of her, she supposed she would curb his punishment. For now. She’d at least allow Finnick a solid five minutes to explain why the hell he went out into such bad water by himself.)
Finnick’s mom stood up and placed a hand on both of their backs. “Come on, you two. Let’s get you changed and warm.”
“Can we make Nadi that one stew?” Finnick asked, looking up at his mom with a bright gleam in his sea-blue eyes. “My favorite one?”
His mom sighed and nodded. “Sure, Finnick. Sure.” She then looked over her shoulder and thanked the rescuers before they left.
Finnick used that moment to lean around her and grin at Nadine. “It’s the best stew ever,” he whispered conspiratorially.
“The best?” Nadine asked.
“Mhmm! She puts rice in it!”
“Oh…” The corners of Nadine’s lips curved up, lifting her full cheeks, and Finnick saw the first hints of life on her face. “And…and white fish?”
“Haddock!”
“Woah…”
“Do you like tea? I think it’s for adults, but mom lets me drink some if it’s not too late and I don’t have school in the morning, and…”
Finnick launched into a wild ramble about his favorite kinds of teas and Nadine seemed to hang onto every word. Her hazel eyes were impossibly wide and she even almost smiled. Almost. And with each quiet comment she made, Finnick’s chest grew warmer and warmer.
He had always wanted a friend.
(Nadine never had friends, and she felt a small pocket filling her chest, one that was bubbly and warm and she wanted to keep it all to herself as it replaced the bone-deep chill that almost drowning had infected her very being with. She thought it might not be that terrible to have a friend, even if that one was Finnick Odair, a boy who always scored the best in all of their training classes and didn’t seem to recognize her. But that was okay to Nadine. No one ever turned a second glance to her.
No one but Finnick Odair, and she knew she was forever indebted to him as they walked safe along the shore of District 4.)
Notes:
thanks for reading the first chapter!
for nadine, I imagined her appearance wise being a much younger version of like amita suman
as you can tell, we start with finnick post 74th hunger games, and then go to about a year pre-65th. We’ll be staying in 65th for the majority of the story, but there may be moments where he’s an adult. hope y’all enjoyed and thanks for reading!
follow me over on the bird app @xpeppermintx109 or tumblr @xxpeppermintxx109 :)
Chapter 2: when we were young
Summary:
those who protect us
Notes:
thank you all for the love and excitement and support already! I’m so happy y’all already love Nadi as much as I do!! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)
-mint
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Finnick
Finnick thought Nadine’s sister to be odd.
She looked almost the exact same as Nadine, what with her long dark hair, brown skin that reminded Finnick of a shade darker than that of copper coins, and eyes too big for her face. But Nadine’s eyes were hazel and her sister’s—Apologies, Mrs Odair, my name is Maris Clement, thank you so much for helping Nadi, I was working late and…—were almost as black as her hair. Where Nadine had a round face, almost like a heart in Finnick’s mind, her sister was all sharp edges and almost stern, as if constantly ready to scold someone. Perhaps Finnick just didn’t understand the difference between adults and children all that much—he didn’t—but he just thought two sisters would look more alike.
“How old is she?” he asked Nadine as they peered around the wall to where Maris and his mother spoke.
Nadine stood lower than him—the pair made a comical sight as if stacked upon one another—and he could hear her huffing. “She turned eighteen this year.”
“So one more year of the reaping?”
“Yeah,” Nadine muttered, “but it’s okay. The trainers don’t think she’s good enough so they haven’t told her to volunteer.”
Finnick scrunched his brows at that. He thought it was humiliating for people if they weren’t told to volunteer. The trainers had already told him he would be first choice in a few years—wait until you’re seventeen, Finnick, and you’ll walk out of those games as The Capitol’s favorite—and though he understood why he had to wait, he wish he didn’t have to. But no one had won the games as young as he was. He understood that a little. But Nadine’s sister? Shouldn’t she want to be reaped? To be good enough to volunteer? Such a thing was an honor!
“This is her last one, and then she promised we could go fishing more often,” Nadine said.
“Why isn’t she good enough to volunteer?” Finnick asked. He looked down at his new friend. “She’s old enough!”
Nadine avoided his gaze and she pulled away from the wall’s edge, suddenly fisting her hands into her shirt. Well, it was one of Finnick’s shirts he had let her borrow since her clothes had been soaked. They were roughly the same size, but Finnick was growing taller by the day it seemed, so soon, he wouldn’t need the shirt back. He thought she could keep it.
“Mari says she can’t volunteer and leave me alone. If she dies, then I’ve got” —she nibbled on her bottom lip and looked around the kitchen that still smelled of haddock and rice stew— “no one. Our parents died, so it’s just us.”
“She wouldn’t die, you know?”
“She could.”
Finnick waved her off. “She’d be a Career! And Careers always win.”
Nadine’s eyes flickered to his and she wore a small frown on her face. “No, they don’t.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yes-huh.”
“Why don’t we have more Victors then, huh?”
Finnick crossed his arms over his chest. “Because.”
“Because why.”
“Because people get old, duh.”
“We have an old Victor! Mags?”
“Yeah, but like,” Finnick tried to argue but his brain was beginning to hurt at thinking so much, “that doesn’t matter!” He pouted and refused to meet Nadine’s eyes. Finnick really didn’t understand why she wasn’t agreeing with him. If Maris went to the Academy to train, then surely Nadine did too—it almost made him wonder why he never saw his new friend before—and they should both understand the honor it was to be so good that you were told to volunteer for the games.
Live and die by The Capitol to make your district proud.
That’s what he had always been taught.
Well, at the Academy he was. His mom wasn’t really happy with it when he had told her what his trainers said. She seemed really upset actually.
He thought it was because she was jealous. She hadn’t been told to volunteer like he already was lined up to, so obviously she was just jealous that he was so good already. He could swim well and use a trident! He liked spears during training but the trident felt…cooler. Better even!
Finnick felt a tug at his sleeve and he looked over at Nadine. She was chewing on her bottom lip, mouth set into a pout.
“What?” he asked.
Nadine pointed her eyes up to him, and Finnick almost winced at the way she stared at him. At the way her hazel eyes seemed too bright and too dark in the kitchen’s muted lighting. He felt that funny warmth in his chest again, and Nadine parted her lips to say something—
“Nadi! C’mon! You’ve got classes in the morning!” Maris called from the main hallway of the house.
“Coming!”
Nadine released Finnick and quickly scampered around him, bolting down the hallway to her sister. But Finnick was close to follow, suddenly upset that she was leaving. He hadn’t even given her tea yet! The one he really liked. They had only had the stew, and she liked that—thank God—but he wanted to show her the tea his mom made for him.
He tried to protest her leaving, but Maris suddenly squatted down to meet his eyes, and she held out her hand with a small smile. “Thank you for saving my sister, Finnick,” she said softly. “It means a great deal to me.”
Finnick cleared his throat and shook the older girl’s hand, unable to meet her gaze as a warmth crawled onto his cheeks. He could hear Nadine giggle but he wasn’t sure why. “Uh, yeah…sure,” he muttered. He dropped her hand quickly and peered around her to find Nadine. “What time is your training tomorrow?”
(Lia rolled her eyes and shot Maris a silent apology, but the eighteen year old only waved it off with smile. It’s cute, she mouthed.)
Nadine pursed her lips. “I have classes in the morning and then lunch and then training at…Mari, what time is my training?”
“Noon, little one.”
“Noon! I train at noon!”
(Only Lia saw how Maris winced at the fact, and she knew then that the older girl wasn’t fond of the training, just like her.)
Finnick’s grin split his cheeks and that warmth in his chest burned bright. “Me too!”
“Really?”
“Yeah!”
Nadine then leaned in and whispered, “Can we train together then? I’m not…” A red-undertone broke out across her nose and cheeks as she looked down. “I’m not very strong so the other girls don’t—“
“The other boys don’t like me cause I’m better than them,” he giggled.
(Nadine wished that was her problem.)
“So…”
“So,” he said with a proud smile, “I’ll be your partner! Every day! I’ll make you stronger and you can…”
“I can teach you how to tie knots!”
Knots? Finnick knew how to tie lots of knots; his father had taught him. But before he could protest it didn’t seem like a fair trade, Maris dropped a hand onto Nadine’s hair and ruffled it slightly.
“Nadi has some of the best knots I’ve ever seen, and…and our mom taught me first. Hell, I had almost a five year head-start too.”
Nadine beamed under her sister’s praise and Finnick sighed. He supposed that was good enough, right? Plus, now he would have a partner to do things with! A friend! Yes, Finnick nodded, that seemed good. Though, he still wished Nadine could teach him something new if he was going to teach her something too.
“Thank you again, Finnick,” Maris said. “Mrs Odair. If you ever come down to the market, all my stuff is free for you. I promise!”
“Oh, we couldn’t—“
His mom tried to argue, but Maris was stubborn, and Finnick caught Nadine giggling behind her sleeve-covered hand.
“Always on the house, okay? My sister’s life is priceless, and I can’t thank either of you enough for helping her. Truly.”
Finnick watched his mom smile and take a step forward, resting a hand on the older girl’s shoulder. “She’s more than welcome to stay here while you work. Might be best so she doesn’t go running off to the sea again, hmm?” The last part was directed at Nadine and Finnick snickered at how embarrassed she looked. But he felt his mom pinch his cheek and he knew he hadn’t escaped his punishment yet.
Dang it.
“And my son and I are going to have a long conversation on water safety so maybe he won’t go running off either.”
“Mom!” he bemoaned, swatting her hand away.
Maris chuckled. “Nadi and I might be having a similar one.” She smiled at them both and opened the door to the chilly night. “Thank you both again. Nadi, say thank you.”
Finnick peeked through the corner of his eye and watched Nadine flash a bright smile and wave. “Thank you, Mrs Odair! The stew was really good.”
“You ever want more, just let me know, okay?”
Nadine nodded her head so quickly that Finnick thought it would fall right off her shoulders. She then turned to him and chewed her cheek. He didn’t have much time to wonder what she was doing before she ran up to him and gave him a hug.
“Thanks, Fish,” she muttered.
Nadine was back at her sister’s side before Finnick could return the hug or groan at that stupid nickname she gave him, but he still felt that warmth on his cheeks and in his chest. Now it was spreading to his stomach. It made him feel weird. Like he wanted to hug her too and not let her leave.
“Bye!” she called out, waving over her shoulder as she dragged Maris out of the door.
Alone with his mom, Finnick rubbed his cheeks.
“Help me clean up,” she yawned, “and then off to bed, okay?”
“No yelling at me?”
Lia chuckled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a tight hug as she led him back to the kitchen. “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”
Finnick grinned to himself.
“I’m very proud of you,” she said softly. “Very proud. And, very angry, but again” —Lia bent over and kissed the top of his sandy-blond hair— “that can come tomorrow. Now. I’ll clean the dishes and you can dry them—“
But Finnick was already bouncing towards the sink, turning the faucet on and pulling out soap and a sponge. He loved cleaning the dishes with his mom, even if the boys at the Academy said it was dumb. When she wasn’t angry with him, he thought she was pretty cool. And tonight? She wasn’t angry, so in Finnick’s mind, that made her cool.
“Alright, alright,” she sighed, handing him a stack of plates. “You can wash and I’ll dry. But only tonight, okay?”
“Yup!”
“And they have to be spotless!”
“They’ll be the most spotless dishes ever.”
Lia laughed and Finnick joined in, beaming up at his mom in a way similar to Nadine and her sister.
(That night, Maris waited until Nadine was tucked into bed—the only bed in their small house situated just on the lip of a beach’s dune—before she cried herself to sleep, head resting on her crossed arms over a rickety tabletop. She hated that a thirteen year old boy had protected her little sister better than she ever had.)
Nadine
Nadine sat by herself at the table, poking and prodding at her food. She liked seafood well enough, but nothing compared to Mrs Odair’s fish stew. Nadine thought she was forever ruined! As she stabbed a slab of cooked trout, she wondered if she should have asked to bring some home. Maris didn’t get to try any, and that made Nadine shift uneasily. Maris always said she ate at the market, but Nadine thought her sister was really thin. Maybe that’s what happens with adults? she wondered to herself, lifting the fish to her mouth. But Mrs Odair wasn’t that thin. And neither were a lot of the adults Nadine saw, especially at the Academy. She couldn’t remember if their mom was like that.
And their dad…
Nadine knew only Maris had met him, but she was a baby when he died. She looked up, chewing her food slowly as she watched other girls her age laugh with one another. Maybe she could find a picture hidden somewhere at home?
“Whatcha thinking?”
Nadine swallowed her fish and tried to keep a smile off her face as she felt her new friend slide onto the bench next to her. His tray clattered beside hers. Trout, broccoli, a singular roll of wheat bread with a sliver of butter, and some blueberries. Nadine smirked.
They had the same lunch choice, which had to mean that she made the right decisions! Yes, that was it, she thought. If Finnick ate similar things then that meant Nadine could grow taller and stronger like him. Then maybe one day, she could volunteer for the games and win, and then she and Maris wouldn’t have to worry again.
“I never want you to volunteer,” Maris whispered under the blanket one night as a storm whipped at the old walls of their small home. “Never ever. You promise?” She held up her pinky to Nadine.
“Why not?”
“It’s a bad, bad thing, Nadi.”
“But if we win, then we can live in a nice home, and maybe mom’ll—“
“Mom and dad aren’t coming back, Nadi,” Maris sighed, looping her pinky with Nadine’s. The younger girl pouted under the blanket, and she knew her sister caught the look despite the only source of light being a crackling flash light that was slowly fizzling out. “And it’s not worth it to go into the games. For either of us.”
“But we’re Careers,” Nadi mumbled. “Careers win.”
“Not Careers like us.”
“What’s that mean?”
Maris gave her a small smile and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe another day,” she whispered. She turned off the flashlight and pulled the blanket off of their heads, guiding Nadine to lay down in the crook of her arm. “C’mon, tomorrow’s a big day. I have to sell some fish before the reaping, and then—“
“You won’t leave me alone, right?”
“Right, sweet girl.” Maris wrapped an arm around Nadine, pulling her deeper into the warm embrace. “Don’t worry. My name’s only in there a few times, and the trainers would never want me to volunteer. I’d” —she slipped into a posh accent and pretended to be a Capitolite— “being such dishonor to this district and family.”
Nadine giggled, holding a hand over her mouth as if fearful a Peacekeeper might hear.
Grinning, Maris tapped her sister on the tip of her hooked nose and then leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek. “Go to sleep, little one. I’ll do that braided crown you like if you wake up early enough.”
“Okay!”
Nadine nestled into her sister’s arms, nuzzling into the warmth, and with one last kiss pressed to her forehead, she was lulled to sleep by her sister’s hums and the house’s groans as wind blew up off the sea.
Maris said she never wanted Nadine to volunteer, but…
“Just that I’m gonna be so strong soon!” Nadine said with a puff to her chest, grinning over at Finnick.
He raised a brow—like a little shit, in Nadine’s opinion, but she wasn’t allowed to say rude words, even if she had heard her sister call her the same thing—and leaned over the table, cheek propped in his hand as he ate berries. “Oh yeah?”
“Uh, yeah,” she huffed. “You said we could train together, and I’ll teach you how to make knots.”
“I already know how to make knots, Nadi.”
“Sheet bend?”
“How do you think I fish?”
“I didn’t know you fished.”
“That’s what I was trying to do before I had to save you.”
Nadine rolled her eyes and threw a blueberry at his face. “You didn’t have to do anything. I can swim.”
“Is that why you looked like you were drowning?” Finnick hummed. “I know babies who are better than you.”
“I wasn’t drowning! I was just” —she pursed her lips and crumbled some of her wheat roll— “in the water. Reef knot?”
“That’s like the first knot my dad taught me. Why were you even out there anyway?”
She shrugged. “Maris needed more fish to sell and I wanted to set up a trap for crabs. Bowline on a bight?”
“Eh…harder but I’m still okay. The storm was like obvious for a few hours. Why’d you think it was smart to go out for” —Finnick inspected his own trout, fork testing the flakiness of the fish— “some crabs?”
“Crabs are more expensive. Mari doesn’t think I know, but she took out tesserae this year, and I know crabs make more money, so I wanted to get some.”
“Yeah, but tesserae means she can be reaped.”
“I told you,” Nadine huffed, fixing her friend with a half-hearted glare, “Mari doesn’t wanna be reaped or volunteer.”
Finnick raised his hands in surrender—he rolled his eyes for good measure too, and Nadine felt her attitude sour just slightly—and then took a bite of his bread. “She’d definitely win though. She’s tall and looks like she can swim. She’s used a spear before, yeah?”
“Well, yes, but—“
“See?” Finnick clapped. “She’d do just fine!”
Nadine hummed with a pout. “Maybe.”
“Nope, I’m right!” her friend giggled, reaching over to poke her cheek. “C’mon! Admit it! Your sister would definitely win the games. Then you could live in Victor’s Village! And have so much money. Then” —Nadine swatted his hand away, hiding her small smile— “you’d never have to go into the games.”
Nadine paused and watched as Finnick turned back to his tray of food.
“But don’t you think it’s an honor?”
(Yes, he did. So why had he said that the way he did? Suddenly, Finnick thought the rest of his wheat roll was much more interesting than meeting Nadine’s dark eyes.)
“Sure, but…”
(Finnick was a young teen boy. Sometimes they said stupid things.)
“But,” he huffed with a bravado even Nadine could catch, “you’d never survive them, so it’s best if she goes instead!”
“Oh.”
Nadine didn’t understand why that hurt her chest. Why she suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of her food tray, why the very thought of consuming the rest of her bread was enough to make her gag. What he said had hurt, she wasn’t young enough to be oblivious to such a fact. And she thought that maybe—though she didn’t want her or her sister to go into the games all that much, Nadine certainly wanted to be good enough to—it was because she already wanted Finnick’s approval. She wanted her friend’s support.
(Finnick’s stomach twisted at the way Nadine looked away. At the way she started to stab her food aimlessly before letting her hands into her lap. At the silence that permeated the space between them, and he really hated it. He shouldn’t have said that. He really shouldn’t have, and he knew his mom would pinch his ear and ground him for a week from fishing. For being mean.
And he didn’t want to be mean to his only friend. They had just started being friends!)
“B—But I can teach you!”
Nadine’s eyes drifted to the corners.
“I can…” Finnick rubbed the back of his neck, finding the ceiling super interesting. “I can like teach you how to win. The trainers say I will all the time, so, that should help, right? Helping you with your strength? And you help me with my knots?”
Nadine nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
He stuck out his pinky.
“Whatre you doing?”
“A pinky promise!”
“Oh.” Nadine lifted her hand as well, and they locked their pinkies together. Her eyes flickered up to meet his—umber-brown clashed with sea-blue. “What're we promising again?”
Finnick grinned. “I’ll make you strong, and you’ll make me…smart?”
“That seems hard.” Nadine twisted her lips. “Making you smart. I thought fish were sorta dumb.”
“I take it back!”
“No, no! It was just a joke!”
“Nope, you’re mean, Nadi.”
“C’mon Fish, you were gonna laugh!”
“Nope.”
“Yup!”
“How would you know?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Nadi smiled and poked his arm in a manner similar to how he had. “Cause I’m smart! I know sooooo much.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me something I don’t know!”
What could she tell him? What would he not know? Nadine chewed on her cheek and slipped her hands beneath her legs, kicking her feet back and forth as she looked around the room. A clock ticked. Tick. Tick. Tick. Lunch would be over soon, and she could already see girls and boys getting ready to head either to classes or training. And one girl stood out amongst them.
Nadine perked up and leaned over to Finnick. She secretly pointed at the girl with red hair.
“You see her? Annie Cresta?”
(Finnick wasn’t looking at Annie.)
“She’s a year younger than us, but I heard one of the boys a year older than us really, really likes her,” Nadine giggles. “And! And, one of the girls our age really, really likes him. So, she really, really doesn’t like Annie. Isn’t that funny?”
“Ha…yeah, super funny.”
(Something about a girl younger—Annie, whom he knew, she was really nice—and a boy older—he had no idea who—and a girl their age—he didn’t really care all that much about who Nadine was pointing out. All he cared about was that his face was burning at how close Nadine sat. At how he could see a mole under her eye that he didn’t notice last night.
He even thought there were flecks of gold in the highlights of her dark eyes. Finnick didn’t understand why he cared.)
“So,” Nadine continued, kicking her feet with a grin, “Siobhan likes Adrien, but Adrien likes Annie, and I think Annie likes someone” —she cocked her head, watching the redhead interact with her friends— “but I’m not sure who. I don’t think it’s Adrien though.”
“How do you know all this?”
Nadine shrugged. “No one sits with me at lunch, and no one ever wants to train with me or partner with me in classes,” she said. “So…I just watch people and listen. It sorta…”
She stopped herself, a furious burn crawling over her cheeks as she looked down to her legs. The laces on her boots were coming undone, she noticed.
“It sorta what?” Finnick asked, leaning over to glance up at Nadine.
Her eyes widened and she almost fell backwards in surprise, saved only by Finnick grabbing her hand.
She looked at her hand in his. “It sorta feels like having friends.” She looked back at him. “Listening to other people have them, I mean.”
Finnick had a lot of freckles. A lot. Nadine wasn’t sure she had ever seen someone with so many. And there was a hint of green in his eyes, right around the pupils, and she swore there was some red in his bronze hair. He looked different in the sunlight than he did the night or during a storm, drenched like a drowned rat—though she knew she hadn’t looked much better yesterday. He smiled up at her.
“Well,” he said, “now you don’t have to worry about all that! I’m your friend, remember?”
(When she nodded, her lips tugging into a secret smile of her own, Finnick realized there was an undertone of red to her brown skin, warming and deepening it in a way only the sunlight could. He wondered what it would be like to go out on the sea with her. To go and set crab traps and sit as the waves rocked their boat for a few hours. He had never gone with anyone other than his father before. Now, he wanted to go with Nadine.
Even after just a day of knowing her.
He wanted to see if the hue of her skin and the gold in her eyes were just as brilliant when not hindered by the Academy’s windows.)
A bell rang.
Nadine jolted and shot up from the bench, grabbing her tray. “C’mon! I told you something you didn’t know, now you definitely gotta teach me how to be strong!”
“Fine, fine!” Finnick followed after her—though not without a moment’s hesitation as he patted his hot cheeks. “Doesn’t mean you’re sooooo smart though,” he teased.
“Uh, yeah it does, idiot.”
“Does not.”
“It so does.”
“Not even a little.”
“Well, if I know more than you, and you’re calling me stupid, then what does that make you? Huh?” Nadine asked, sticking her tongue out at him as they followed their training group.
“Uhhh…a genius?”
Nadine raised a brow. “I don’t…I don’t think that’s how it works…”
Taking her momentary disbelief, Finnick slung his arm over her shoulders and steered her alongside him. “Shhh. Makes perfect sense, I swear! I think we’re doing weapons training today. Wanna learn how to use a spear?”
“Those seem heavy.”
“Exactly! You wanna become stronger right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then, I’ll teach you how to use a spear!”
“Isn’t that what the trainers are f—“
Finnick pressed a finger to her mouth, shushing her. “I use a spear all the time to fish. I definitely know way more than them.”
“Hmm…okay.” That made sense in Nadine’s younger mind. Maybe. “But then I can tell you more stuff I know, right? And show you more knots?”
“Sure.”
Nadine grinned and stayed her desire to clap her hands.
And around them, the other fourteen year olds watched with varying degrees of interest. But the same question lingered in all of their minds:
Why was Finnick Odair hanging out with Nadine Clement?
Down two streets, a left turn here, another left turn there, Lia Odair startled as she answered her door.
“S—Sorry,” came the sputtered apology from a hunched over Maris Clement. “Didn’t…didn’t know where…where else t—to go.”
The younger girl looked up and Lia Odair’s eyes widened as the blood dripped from Maris’ black hair, and the bruise already blossoming on her cheek, dangerously close to her eye. She was cupping her stomach.
Red dripped between her fingers.
Notes:
writing 13 year olds is hard but I’m remembering my very first crush at 13 and idk how, but channeling that makes it easier sksksk. hope y’all liked it!
until next time <3
twt - xpeppermintx109
Chapter 3: first light
Summary:
those who harm us
Notes:
my deepest apologies for the wait, and welcome to all the new readers from tik tok :) I know it’s not a long chapter, but it took so long cause it was such a difficult transition chapter. don’t worry, shit is picking up, which means I’m no longer hitting a block. just needed to push through this one! next one will be longer!
hope y’all enjoy it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lia Odair
“Do I even want to ask what happened?” Lia Odair muttered as she pressed an alcohol-soaked rag to Maris Clement’s wound. The young woman hissed and Lia only pursed her lips. She felt bad. She did. But people didn’t just get stabbed in District Four.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Maris said, “if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Lia reached for a needle and thread. “That was certainly one of my questions. Hold your shirt please, dear.”
Maris grimaced as she did as Lia asked. She readjusted the frozen meat on her cheek. Black eyes trained on her wound, she said, “Even if it was my fault, would it have mattered?”
“Not at all.”
“Why?”
“Because, dear” —Lia grabbed a new rag and gestured for Maris to bite down on it— “even if you committed some terrible act—of which I’m sure you didn’t—it wouldn’t warrant this.” Once she was certain Maris had the rag secured in her mouth, Lia began suturing the wound in her stomach. She felt terrible for making tears build in Maris’ eyes. “Do you think this will happen again?” She wanted to be prepared.
Maris shook her head.
“Can you go to the Peacekeepers for it?”
Maris looked away.
Lia sighed and slowly nodded. Because of course. Of course the only reason Maris Clement, a girl she just met by pure chance, was knocking at her door in the morning with her head and stomach bleeding and a nasty bruise on her cheek courtesy of the very people who were sworn to protect the people of the districts. Of course. It made perfect sense, and it made Lia’s breakfast curdle in her stomach as she finished suturing the wound. It wasn’t terribly long or deep, but it needed to be closed up and cleaned, and Lia knew how to do that. If there was anything she could do, it was this.
(She could be a mother to two more, she supposed.)
“Let me check your head,” she told Maris.
The young girl breathed a sigh of relief as Lia tied off the stitches and stood up, brushing through matted blood and hair.
“Some of the Peacekeepers don’t like that I won’t sell to them at a discount,” Maris muttered. “They say I should show my gratitude for all of their” —she quoted with her fingers— “hard work and bravery.”
Lia scoffed, “All that hard work and bravery that goes into beating a young woman.”
A small smile lifted on Maris’ lips, but when Lia dabbed her cut on her head, that smile crumpled into a wince.
“I’m sorry, sweet girl.”
“It’s alright…thank you for helping me.”
Lia tried to dab a little gentler this time around as she cleaned up the cut. “You shouldn’t be needing my help,” she whispered. “But know that if you need it again, I’m more than willing to give it.”
Maris bit back tears—not because of the pain radiating through her form, but from the gentle words and touch of a woman that felt greatly like a mother in that moment.
“I assume you don’t want Nadine to know?”
“I’d appreciate if she didn’t.”
Lia nodded. She leaned down and patted Maris’ cheek, brushing some specks of dust and blood from her skin. “Then it’s a good thing she and Finnick are at the Academy, hmm?”
“Mhmm.”
“Would you like something to eat?”
Maris’ eyes widened. “You mean it?”
And in that moment, Maris looked as young as Nadine—perhaps even younger, for the girl she once was died the same day her parents did and it had been years before she could feel like a child—and Lia felt her heart shatter a little for the eighteen-year-old girl who needed to act a mother without ever really having one.
“Of course. How would you like some haddock stew?” She held the rag to Maris’ head wound, hoping it didn’t hurt the girl too greatly. “After I’ve patched you back up,” she added with a tight and airy chuckle.
“Yes, please.”
Finnick
“Who do you think is gonna be the boy tribute this year?” Nadine asked quietly as she and Finnick practiced making hooks.
He was always very good at it, but he was quick to realize that Nadine was not, so they stayed at that station today for a bit longer than most would have. He also realized that wherever Nadine went, people seemed to leave. Stations had been set up—Like the actual training for the games, the instructors had claimed—since the reaping was nearing with each day. It wouldn’t be long before two names were pulled from a bowl, undoubtedly saved by someone volunteering, and then two people from District 4 would be sent off to the Hunger Games in the Capitol.
Finnick had stayed at Nadine’s side during Academy for the last week, and where he got more and more excited to see who the instructors decided on, Nadine grew more and more quiet. Her asking who he thought would be picked was the first time she spoke about it at all without his prompting.
He shrugged, licked his fingers, and twisted twine around the body of the hook. “Maybe Nicolas? He’s seventeen now. I heard the instructors saying he’s really good with a spear from all that fishing he did with his parents.”
“He’s ugly though. Stefan would be better.”
Finnick paused. “Huh?”
Nadine smirked to herself. She wasn’t making the hook right at all, but Finnick almost didn’t have the heart to tell her that if anything was ugly, it was her craftsmanship. She could tie a knot to hell and back, but hooks? Finnick just hoped he never had to rely on her to make one.
“He’s ugly,” she repeated, tongue poking out between her lips as she kept concentrating. “Ugly people don’t win the games. Or, that’s what Maris told me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The boy who won last year,” Nadine muttered. “From District One?”
“Gloss?”
Finnick remembered watching those games even though his mom seemed less that thrilled each time he sat in front of the screen. He still remembered watching Gloss push the girl from 4—her name was Aleah—into a pack of mutts, and kill the boys from 6 and 7 in one fell swoop with a knife. He was just bigger than them. Blond and tall too. Finnick thought he looked like half the boys in 4.
“Mhmm. Maris said he was handsome. I thought so too…” The last part, she added softly, and a small smile crawled onto her lips. “I didn’t wanna watch cause I liked his interview a lot, but Mari watched. She told me he killed a bunch of tributes.”
“He did,” Finnick confirmed. But what kept annoying him was: “You thought he was cute? He’s like…way older than us.”
Nadine finally looked up from her hook. “Only three years!”
“Oh yeah?” Finnick crossed his arms, unimpressed by how much of a girl Nadine was being. “And what sixteen year old would wanna date you? Huh?” Actually, the more he thought about it, the grosser it seemed. Sixteen was so old in Finnick’s mind. Practically an adult!
Nadine pouted. “I didn’t say I wanted to date him, you weirdo! I’m just saying!” She threw her hands around, but when they both spied an instructor keeping a close eye on them, she toned down her theatrics. She returned to her hook, and Finnick winced at how it was looking when she licked her fingers and got to looping the twine. “I just mean that…handsome” —definitely a word from Maris, Finnick thought— “boys win the games cause everyone in the Capitol loves them. Same with girls. That’s why Gloss won. He had a ton of sponsors, Mari told me.”
Finnick shrugged. “I guess.” But if he thought back on it, he supposed Gloss did have a lot of sponsors. He never wanted for anything; whether it was a weapon or food or water or something to sleep on, he somehow got it. Finnick briefly wondered if he would one day be…handsome enough to get sponsors like that.
He glanced over at Nadine.
If she ever got reaped or volunteered in a few years, would the Capitol like her? He wasn’t sure. Big hazel-brown eyes and inky black hair, and a soft face with skin a shade darker than copper-brown. And when she focused really, really hard, she would stick her tongue out and furrow her black brows, and she’d smile just a little bit. Finnick’s hands slowed on his own hook—practically done, but he always worked slower when with Nadine—and he simply watched her.
Could he imagine her all dressed up? Sitting across from Caesar Flickerman? Smiling for everyone and laughing as she laughed with him? People would like her. The Capitol would love her. Quiet, shy, but…pretty, Finnick thought with cheeks suddenly burning hot. He didn’t really think girls were pretty, but…but maybe…He stole another glance at Nadine.
She suddenly gasped, turned with a grin, and Finnick had to lean back, eyes wide as he stared down at his friend. Nadine grinned oh-so-widely and she shoved her hook in between their faces, threading it in the close space, and Finnick knew he should be looking at the hook; at how terribly she threaded and bent it; at how she needed to work desperately on the hook, but he was only staring at her. At Nadine.
At her crooked teeth. At the gap between her big teeth. At the mole sitting beneath her eye. At the dusting of freckles hidden across her cheeks. At the darkest browns and brightest greens dancing around her pupils.
Finnick swallowed.
“Look, Fish!” she giggled with pride. “I did it! Look at how pretty it is! Look at—“
Yeah. He was looking at how pretty she was.
(She would be beloved by The Capitol.
But Finnick wanted her to never sit on that stage, no matter how great an honor it would be. He didn’t want The Capitol to ever know her name like he did.)
Nadine
“Ouch!”
Nadine groaned, holding her arm close to her chest as a numb tingling spread from her elbow and up to her shoulder. It wasn’t injured, she knew that, but she hated how the prickling sensation nipped at her skin.
“Oh, you’re fine, Nadi!” Finnick called from above her, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.
“You hit my funny bone!”
“I told you” —he rolled his eyes and hopped down from the sparring mats— “to watch your left side! I was just reminding you, duh.”
“Reminding me by pushing me off?”
Finnick sighed, pinched his nose, and then offered Nadine a hand. “Nothing’s broken right?”
Only her pride, Nadine thought bitterly, but she took her best friend’s hand all the same. He tugged her up and then grabbed her arm, lifting it to his eyes. Nadine snorted when he began to poke and prod, as if he were some talented doctor, and it made her break into quiet giggles she tried hard to stifle.
“What're you laughing at?” Finnick asked without looking up at her face.
She shook her head. “You just look dumb.”
“Me? The one making sure you didn’t break your arm?” Finnick shrugged and stepped away, dropping Nadine’s arm. “Guess I won’t make sure you’re okay ever again!”
“Fish, you’re so—“
“Nope!” He climbed back up onto the mat, placed his hands on his hips, and waited for Nadine to join him again. She pouted and stuck her tongue out at him. “Now I’m definitely not gonna help you! C’mon! We gotta fix your fighting!”
“It doesn’t even matter,” she huffed. “I’m never gonna be picked.”
“But you could be.”
“I won’t be.”
“Could.”
“Won’t.”
Finnick used her distraction and reached for her, grabbing her arms and taking her down to the mat. Nadine yelped, and wrapped her legs around Finnick’s waist. They struggled against one another; tugging and pulling, more tugging and pulling, and thrashing and gnashing. Finnick barred his arm over her neck—gently so as not to harm her—and Nadine used that and her leverage to flip the pair over. Finnick grunted as the air left his lungs, and he gasped like a true fish out of water as inky-black hair tumbled around him.
Nadine grinned as victory flowed through her. She sat upon her friend’s stomach, pinned one of his shoulders down, and pretended she held a knife to his jugular. “I win!” she cheered.
But Finnick did not frown as she thought he would. Instead, he grinned. “And you lose!”
He pressed his fist into her side, as if he was skewering a dagger through her ribs.
“I killed you first!”
“Nope!” The ‘p’ popped on Finnick’s lips, and he shoved Nadine off of him, sitting up and grinning all the while.
Nadine glared at her friend. “You lost first, Fish.”
“I stabbed you in time!”
“No you didn’t!”
“I totally did!”
“No point in arguing, Clement!”
Nadine stiffened and she slowly glanced to the side where a group of teenagers stood. They were all the same age as Maris, and Nadine knew them well because they tortured her sister. And when Maris wasn’t in class, they tortured Nadine.
(Finnick furrowed his brows as he watched Nadine curl into herself, shoulders lifting to her ears, and eyes pointed down as she suddenly picked at her nails. He knew the older kids. Some of them at least. Some liked him. Some didn’t.
But these ones? They never talked to him, save for the oldest, and undoubtedly the male tribute for this year: Stefan. Finnick had overheard the instructors talking about how certain they were he was going to win. So certain in fact that they hadn’t decided on a female tribute because they didn’t know who to send to her promised death when all of them were too talented to be wasted.)
Nadine shut her eyes as Stefan climbed up onto the sparring mat, and she bit back a yelp as he clapped a hand on her shoulder.
“Where’s big sister Mari? Huh?”
“W-Working,” she sputtered. “She has to…She has to sell the fish she caught, and, and—“
Stefan tightened his grip, and Nadine whimpered as his nails dug through her training uniform and scraped against her flesh. “She was supposed to be here today, Nadine.”
“She…couldn’t…come.”
“Hmm.” Stefan released Nadine and clapped her back harshly. The wind rushed out of her and she tumbled forward, barely catching herself with Finnick’s immediate help. He grabbed her arms and yanked her towards him, refusing to let go. “You’ve taken up sparring, Clement? With Odair of all students?”
Nadine kept her mouth shut. She knew Stefan’s game. She knew it cause Maris always told her never to rise to the bait like the fish they caught.
But Finnick didn’t know that.
“What’s it matter, Stefan? We all need to train.”
“Fish, please don’t,” Nadine muttered, pulling away slightly, but Finnick refused to let her go. Instead, his grip tightened and he tugged her closer into his protection.
Stefan cocked his head, smirking down at the pair. “C’mon, Odair; you know better than anyone that she’s not worth your time and energy. Word of advice? You wanna go and make this district proud when it’s your turn to step up?” He squatted, hands dangling between his knees. Finnick’s knuckles turned white, and he glared at Stefan. “You should leave baggage like her behind. She’ll only get you killed.”
Nadine wouldn’t say it, but she agreed. Just like she agreed when the older girls would tell her she was a burden to Maris. Oh, Maris could be talented if she only forgot about you, Nadine. Or, Maris could actually train for once if she didn’t need to feed a brat like you. Or, their favorite, Maybe Maris would’ve been better off if you had died and not your parents.
She agreed every time.
Finnick shot to his feet, stepping around Nadine, and he placed himself between her and Stefan. “She’s not useless!” he bit out.
“Oh, I didn’t say she was useless,” Stefan chuckled. He tried to glance around Finnick but the young boy refused to let him. “She’s plenty useful” —he turned to his friends and chuckled— “as a meat shield. Just toss her in front of a spear from One or a knife from Two, and we’ll see how useful she—“
Nadine gasped, and the training room at the academy stilled completely as Stefan’s head snapped to the side.
“Finnick!” Nadine scrambled up and grabbed her friend’s wrist, quickly trying to pull him away. He was shaking. Trembling like a leaf. Or perhaps that was something Nadine didn’t understand—that uncontrollable feeling that sent his muscles spasming with…rage? Nadine had watched the Hunger Games every year in her memory. She had seen boys and girls look like Finnick did now far too often.
(They often looked like he did right before they killed someone.)
“Finnick, c’mon,” she begged quietly, staring at Stefan as she tried to urge them back and off the sparring mat. Away from the older boy who now looked at them both with the promise of nothing good. “Please!”
Stefan was holding onto his nose, and from between his fingers, blood dripped slowly. “You little shit!”
He launched across the mat, arms outstretched and hands reaching for Finnick’s throat, and the two thirteen year olds were too slow to avoid the collision. Finnick tumbled backwards, taking Nadine down with him, and she gasped at the weight of two boys landing atop her. A cracking sensation rattled through her chest, and sharp stabbing pains shot through her with each breath she tried to take.
Finnick and Stefan rolled off of her, the boys scratching and punching at one another as they tried to gain the upper hand. Nadine flipped onto her stomach, each breath hurting more than the last, and she grabbed at her chest. Why did it hurt like this? Why wouldn’t it stop hurting? She tried so hard to breathe. So hard. But each time she opened her mouth, it only got worse. And worse. And suddenly saliva was pooling in her mouth. Saliva and something warm and metallic tasting.
Nadine coughed, and she cried out as something pierced something in her chest, and she collapsed onto the mat, clawing at her chest and throat and the ground. A splattering of red was bright against the black mat.
Finnick
Finnick bit Stefan’s hand, grinning as the older boy reared back from pain, and he tried to follow. To finally pin him down and punch him. Over and over and over again. He wouldn’t just break Stefan’s nose, he’d break his jaw too, and send a few teeth flying. Bruises bloomed on Stefan’s nose and cheeks, but not enough. Not enough for Finnick to stop.
It wouldn’t be enough until Stefan was crying and pleading for him to stop. Maybe it’d taste a bit like the victory Finnick was sure to experience whenever he got sent into the arena by his instructors. But this training facility and sparring mat would do for now.
Before he could pummel Stefan into the mat, arms wrapped around his waist and arms and he kicked furiously.
“Lemme hit him!” Finnick cried out, swinging with abandon against the restraints around him. “He deserves it! Nadi isn’t useless! She’s not—“
“I’ll fucking kill you, Odair! I’ll kill your little girlfriend, her sister, and you while I’m fucking at it! You’re dead! Dead!”
“Try and see what happens!” Finnick shouted back with all of the confidence a thirteen year old had no right to have. He thrashed and fought, and Stefan did the same, the boys separated by two instructors and two Peacekeepers each, but neither was able to tear away. Neither was able to tear the other apart.
(The instructors took note of how thirteen year old Finnick Odair held his own against eighteen year old Stefan Flint.
And though they had to solve this issue first, a few exchanged knowing glances. Maybe not this year, but maybe the next.)
“Stop it! Both of you!” Head Instructor Flavius screamed out.
Finnick immediately stilled, breathing heavily, and pain started to settled in his flesh and muscles where Stefan had grabbed and hit him. He trembled as the instructors and Peacekeepers slowly released him, and he swallowed thickly as Instructor Flavius approached. Stefan spat towards Finnick, and the younger boy almost rose to the bait but a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him.
Flavius grabbed Finnick’s shoulder—Stefan’s too—and he yanked them both close to him. “You both are the top students of your ages,” he spat. “I expected better from our male tribute this year, and our…” His dark eyes roamed over Finnick’s bruising face and split lip. He sneered. “You know better, Odair. You’re too talented to debase yourself so.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” he apologized weakly.
(He didn’t mean it. He was only sorry he didn’t kill Stefan already.)
“You will be tomorrow,” Flavius scoffed. “And you, Flint! I don’t care about your stupid fucking games with those Clement girls. You’ll be going into the games with a broken nose and I hope they don’t fix it! It’ll serve you right for this…embarrassment!”
Stefan tilted his head down. “I…understand, sir.”
(It didn’t sound like he did. Not to Finnick.)
“Sir! Sir! She’s struggling to breathe!”
Flavius rolled his eyes and released the boys. He turned from Stefan and Finnick, and it was then that the younger boy seemed to genuinely gain clarity.
And he froze.
“What use are any of you if you can’t stop two boys from killing each other and a child in the first place?” Flavius screamed, pushing past the instructors to get to…
“Nadi!” Finnick cried out.
He sprinted to where she was lying on the mat, her raspy gasps sounding more akin to gurgling on sea water—just as it did when he met her. When she was drowning.
“Nadi! Nadi!”
Finnick fought to get to his friend; he fought to get past the instructors and Peacekeepers surrounding her; he fought to kneel next to her. But the moment he caught sight of her sprawled on her back, clawing at her chest with blood on her lips and a stain spreading on her side, he faltered.
He faltered, and medical staff pushed him out of the way calling out things he couldn’t hear or understand. He couldn’t hear anything at all as his best friend was lifted onto a stretcher with a mask placed over her mouth. He couldn’t hear anything as he slumped onto the training mat, staring only at the blood that remained.
Nadi’s blood.
Three broken ribs. One punctured lung. Six hours of surgery. Forty-seven stitches and a sutured patch of skin to hide where the rib had cracked in two and split her flesh.
Nadine Clement was in the hospital in District Four for three weeks—not even close to enough time for her to recover, but three weeks was all she was allowed.
Three weeks until the Reaping.
“And the female tribute for this year’s Sixty-Fourth annual Hunger Games!”
A gloved hand sifted through a glass bowl decorated by a clam shell at the lip before plucking out a single slip of paper. Fluorescent blue painted lips neared the microphone as a name was read.
“Nadine Clement!”
Notes:
as always, thank you so much for reading! hope it was okay!
- mint
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