Hey!

This is my first (and maybe only?) Hunger Games fic, so I hope you guys will enjoy it :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. The characters and world is the intellectual property of Suzanne Collins

PS: Reviews would be appreciated :)

One thing Finnick will never forget was the day he first noticed Annie Cresta.

Oh, he had "noticed" her before. Quickly seen her as he passed by the Careers training. Seen her carrying into town a net full of fish the day her father was sick. Noticed the bright green bow that decorated the top of her head, holding her hair out of her face when she passed by him in town. These little details that you notice as easily as you forget them, and that you can see in every other person you bump into in the street.

No, the first time he really noticed her was about two months before the reaping for the 70th annual Hunger Games.

Being a Victor, he could do pretty much anything he wanted. He had food and money for the rest of his life. So, instead of training the Careers as he was so often requested, he spent a lot of time swimming. He couldn't bring himself to train the Careers. Mentoring them was had enough. They never came out of there alive, not while he'd been mentor anyways. He couldn't look into a child's eye and raise him for slaughter, and actually try and make him believe that what he was doing was honorable..

So that afternoon he was out for a swim again. He'd strip completely and swim far out, past the waves and the fishing boats, and when the water was still enough, he'd let himself float on his back, eyes closed and hearing distorted by the water around him. It was the only moment he'd feel free. Out in the ocean, completely naked, with no one but himself. Where he didn't have to mentor poor children to face the most traumatizing experience in their lives, where he didn't have to pretend to be seductive to all these Capitol freaks. Where he wasn't a slave, a property of the Capitol, who could do whatever it pleased him.

After a long moment, Finnick returned to reality and swam back to shore. He was putting his pants back on when he realized her shirt was missing. And that's when he saw her.

She was sitting at edge of the docks, mending fishing net, with the tip of her toes brushing the water as she gently waved her long thin legs. She was not wearing her training clothes, but a simple beige dress that made Finnick see her not like a trained soldier, but for what she actually was: a girl. He'd give her fifteen years, give or take a year. He only recognized her by that green ribbon sitting on the side of her head. But what really drew his attention, was that it was clearly his shirt that was lying on her lap.

It wasn't the fact that he was standing there shirtless that annoyed him; Finnick wasn't at all shy or modest about his body. What bothered him was that she'd taken his shirt like one of his fans in the Capitol would, as if he was some sex icon or something. Though girls did beat their eyelashes at him and giggle as he passed them, he expected them to be a bit less shallow in his district.

The Victor went over, still dripping wet from the sea, stopping right next to her. Feeling his presence, the girl looked up, meeting his sea green eyes with hers of the same color.

"I believe that's my shirt" he told her, not trying to sound too rude, but making no effort to sound friendly either.

"It is" she said simply, holding it up for him. "It had a hole under the armpit. I fixed it for you."

For the first time in a while, Finnick was taken aback. He knew it had a hole; he'd seen it earlier in the morning but had ignored it. She had fixed it properly. Plus, he was expecting a silly girl who'd hyperventilate or faint because he was talking to her, not someone who would talk to him so calmly, and then turn back to her net as if nothing had happened. Only then he noticed the basket by her side, with some clothes in it, as well as needles and thread.

"So that's what you do?" he asked. "Steal people's stuff and fix them?"

The girl didn't look up, but he saw a small smile appear across her face. "I didn't steal it. I have some stuff to sew for my family, and it was lying there and I thought I'd do its owner a favor. As a Victor, I'd expect you to have better clothes"

"Yeah, well, what for? I don't wear them much anyway" Finnick smiled and sat by her side. "What's your name?"

"Annie" she told him, looking at him again. "Annie Cresta"

Annie Cresta. Little did he know that with time, that name would start crossing his mind more and more until it became his sole purpose of living.

"You're one of the Careers, aren't you?" he asked her, even if he knew the answer. She simply nodded, so he went on: "What do you fight with?"

"Ropes" she told him, putting the net aside and starting to sew a dress.

"Ropes?" he asked, actually curious. "How do you fight with ropes?"

"You don't actually fight with them… you mostly do traps" Annie explained. "Though if you're quick enough, you can strangle your opponent with them"

"Not really the easiest way to kill though, is it?" Finnick pointed out, picking up her net to check the quality of her work – which he had to admit was quite impressive.

"No" the girl agreed. "But I don't want to do much killing"

The boy put the net down, finally looking properly at that girl by his side. Her green eyes were still fixed on the dress she was mending, her full lips pressed in a pout of concentration. She had an oval face, and quite pale skin compared to the other people from district four. Her hair was long, full and dark, falling gracefully around her. She was average size and quite thin… and she was just a girl. Finnick really hoped her name wasn't pulled out during the reaping, because there was no way this girl would make it out of there alive. She was no killer; even if she hadn't given him that answer, he could see it in her eyes.

There are two types of Careers that were chosen at the age of ten to start their training. There were the brutal, vicious ones. The ones that had been successfully brainwashed, and that actually wanted to go in the arena, the ones whose goal was to become a Victor. Those who could kill without blinking to survive. How probably took pleasure from it. And then there were the smart ones; the ones who'd be of great help to their district partner in the beginning, who usually were the ones that found the water and food sources, the shelters, the others tributes… but who would never survive the brutality of the final battles. Maybe they could physically, but they weren't really killers. Sometimes, you'd have a Career that was a bit of both – Finnick was one of those – but they were rare. Annie definitely wasn't.

"Nervous for the reaping?" he asked, suddenly seeing himself in her, a little kid trained to kill against his will.

"Well… a bit" she admitted, tossing the dress back in the basket and looking at him. "But I mean, there are a lot of us. And I think there are some girls, who actually wanna go, so…"

This is why Finnick hated the idea training Careers. Because eventually they'd open up to him. He'd easily sympathize. His first instinct was to end the conversation and leave, pretend he never talked to this girl, who'd probably not even get picked anyway. But instead, he took her thin hand, squeezing it gently.

"It'll be alright." The words escaped his lips before he could consider them. After all, who was he to state such a thing? How could he know?

"No, it might be alright" she corrected him with a sad smile.

"No, it will be" he insisted. "Even if your name is pulled out at the reaping, I'm make sure you get out of there alive"

"You probably forgot my name already" she replied with a laugh.

"You'd think that" Finnick said, getting up and putting his shirt on. He looked a while at the sun that was slowly setting in the horizon. "I better get going. You should go home too, it's getting quite chilly."

"Yeah, you're right" the girl agreed, putting her sewing material back in the basket.

"I guess I'll see you around then… Annie Cresta" he winked at her before walking away. He never turned back, and because of that he missed the smile that had appeared on her face.