AN: I blame plot bunnies. I love the relationship between Katniss and Finnick in the books and went hunting for stories of the two of them together as friends and/or lovers. I found some interesting ones, but they did nothing but fuel my imagination. I had wanted this to be a one-shot, but the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write. So this is going to come in three parts and follow their growth as friends then lovers as they fight in the rebellion. And they are going to fight because that is what they do. Now I know that they are both OOC, but I tried to keep the heart of their characters. Katniss is still family oriented, protective and fierce but still unsure about her own feelings and future. Finnick is still sincere, strong and caring. I also messed around with the ages, so here's a quick break down so that people don't get confused:

Ages at 63rd Hunger games: Katniss, 16. Finnick, 11. Gale, 18. Prim, 10. Rory, 11. Vick, 5. Posy, 4.

Ages at 66th Hunger games: Katniss, 19. Finnick, 14. Prim, 16. Rory, 17. Vic. 11. Posy 10.

Ages at 74th Hunger games: Katniss, 27. Finnick 22. Prim, 21. Rory, 22. Vic, 16. Posy, 15.

I hope you all enjoy this as much I enjoyed writing it!

Premise: Katniss won the 63rd Hunger Games and become the most popular tribute ever. Now she must mentor the next up and coming star, Finnick Odair.

Disclaimer:Suzanne Collins owns everything.

Put Me Back Together: Part I

Katniss Everdeen took the 63rd Hunger Games by storm. No one in the Capitol had thought much of her when she was reaped - a small, skinny girl from a small, insignificant district. Thier eyes and their bets were initially drawn to the Careers from the wealthier district who had dominated the Hunger Games in the last 10 years.

Then Katniss Everdeen rode out on a chariot of fire. All eyes were drawn to her and with every new exposure, the Capitol fell more and more in love with the Girl on Fire. She was strongest of the tributes, but no one knew why. She was enigmatic and coy in her interview.

Then she went into the arena and the Capitol watched as Katniss Everdeen became a predator. The first night is traditionally brutal thanks to the bloodthirsty Careers but it was Katniss that did the hunting. She slinked through the night with a bow and arrow from the Cornucopia and on silent feet she took down the Careers one by one. By the morning, only half of the Careers the remained.

Over the next week she captured and killed with an effortless grace. The only chink in her impenetrable armor came in the form of a young girl from District 11 - Rue. Katniss had taken the small child under her wing, protecting her as fiercely as a mother bear does her cub. When the girl died, Katniss cried angry tears and the Capitol cried with her.

Then, where there were only a handful of tributes left, the Gamemakers put forth a feast. It was to bring the tributes together to fight, but there was no fight. Katniss sat in a tree and took out the last three tributes with terrifying precision and speed.

With that, Katniss went from being a tribute to a victor and she was forever etched into the hearts of the Capitol.

Finnick Odair was tired of being cleaned, polished, and dressed. He missed his small house that was close enough to the sea that you could smell the salt on the wind. He missed fishing at the crack of dawn and the sound of the waves crashing on the side of the boat. The Capitol was too quiet, too clean and too perfect.

He pulled at the neck of the suit - a clear blue that mirrored the sea at sunset and brought out the green in his eyes. He wasn't looking forward to the interview, especially since Mags hadn't given him much advice. She had been helpful in training and dealing with the other tributes, but the old woman had just shrugged when he asked about the televised interview.

Perhaps he could ask her again.

He walked out of his room, heading towards the living room with every intention on making Mags help him and finding some food. He didn't expect much, but he didn't expect what he found. Mags was sitting on the couch talking with someone new.

It was a woman, with long brown hair and olive skin. She was wearing a loose shirt that was so sedate that he knew instantly she wasn't from the Capitol. He realized he had been staring when Mags waved him over.

The woman stood, turned and Finnick felt his heart stop. Chatting and laughing with Mags was Katniss Everdeen - the most famous tribute in the history of the games. He swallowed hard. Everything he had seen about this woman on the television was contradictory. She was an enigma and the Capitol loved her that way.

Mags mumbled an introduction and Katniss held out her hand. Finnick reached out and took it, surprised at how soft the skin was even though her grip was strong.

"Please sit down." Katniss said, gesturing to the small couch across from her and Mags. Finnick obeyed immediately. He knew Katniss was not someone to just drop in for a social visit.

Katniss didn't say anything else for a long moment, just looking him over. It wasn't the appraising look he had seen in many people's eyes in the Capitol. There was a hunger in his Prep team's eyes and a wanting gleam in his stylists. It was like everyone here was just waiting to eat him up. The look in her eyes was calculative, thoughtful, and just slightly sad.

"Finnick. Mags tells me that you need help with your interview." Katniss says, straight to the point. "I don't know why. I am pretty sure you could say anything up there and the Capitol would fawn all over you." She looks back over at Mags. "Are you sure about this?"

Mags smiles back sadly as she stands and reaches over to Finnick. Slowly she strokes his cheek, and then she's gone. Finnick blinks, more confused than ever.

"What is going on?" He asks.

Katniss, who had been watching the old woman leave, turns back to him. Her eyes are dark pools, more intense than the darkest storms that ravage the coast.

"She loves you very much. You know that right?"

Finnick's eyes soften. "Yes." He says. He loves her too. The woman practically raised him. His father was always so busy between running his fishing skiff and drinking that he ignored Finnick. Not that he minded; Mags had done good by him and he loved her for that.

"That's why she called me. For better or worse she wants me to help you win."

"What about your own tributes? Aren't you the District 12 mentor?" He asks, his head starting to spin with the information.

"Haymitch is handling their interviews. I will be getting them allies and sponsors. Do not mistake me, they are my first priority and if it comes to them or you I will put the full weight of my influence behind my tributes." She leans forward in her seat and Finnick instinctively leans back. "But if you are as good as Mags says you are..." She trails off, her eyes becoming sad again.

Finnick squirms, uncomfortable with the dramatic shifts in her personality. "So right now, you are my mentor but that will change in the arena. I understand. Can we-" He coughs. "Should we talk about what I am supposed to do? I do have to leave in less than 30 minutes."

Katniss smiles at him then, a bitter, hard smile. "You, Finnick Odair are going to charm the Capitol. They are already in love with you - the handsome boy with the sea-green eyes - but you are going to make them ravenous. I want you to smile, wink and flirt. I want women to be dreaming about you tonight so that they call Mags in the morning because they want to throw obscene amounts of money at you, just for the pleasure of looking at you one more day."

"I - what?" Finnick asks. "I don't know how to do that!"

"Do you have a girlfriend back home?" Finnick shook his head. Katniss frowns. "A girl you are interested in?" Again, Finnick shakes his head. "Have you ever been kissed?" This gets a blush and only a blush.

Katniss sighs, stands and holds out her hand to his. Finnick, red and embarrassed beyond belief follows her. She walks him into the bathroom and places him in front of the mirror.

"You at least know you are handsome, right?" She asks.

Finnick shrugs. "I suppose."

"No. You are, and it is your greatest weapon. Even if you don't know the right words to say, just smile." She looks in the mirror expectantly. "That, was your cue to smile." She says when Finnick doesn't move.

He does, but it is small and shy, which clearly annoys her. "Larger. Larger. Larg-oh." She stops, and he finds her staring at him in the mirror.

"What?" Finnick says.

"Dimples." Is all she says. Finnick doesn't really understand, but he thinks it's a good thing. Before he can really question it, Katniss tells him to smile again and this time he smiles broadly, showing some teeth and he is surprised to find Katniss smiling back at him.

"That. Just smile like that and Caesar will handle the rest. If he could make me look good, then you will be a show stopper." With that she walks out the door. Finnick drops the smile and follows her. She had tried to hide it, but he had noticed the frown on her face.

He wants to ask her about it, but Katniss is out the door before he gets the chance to.

Finnick Odair had won the 66th Hunger games. At the age of 14 he was the youngest victor in the history of the games.

He had won handily. It hadn't been hard once the net and golden trident had fallen from the sky. He knew that the longer the games had progressed, the more expensive items were. Most tributes got things like food and medication, but he had received a weapon, and not just a weapon; the perfect weapon.

He had thanked Mags, amazed that she had gotten so many sponsors for him, but she had just shaken her head and said "Katniss." It had shocked him because when he had gotten the trident, there had still been one tribute left from District 12.

He didn't see Katniss again until the Victory Tour but her words and her actions had lingered with him as surely as the memories of the games. He really didn't understand that woman, but he was sure she understood him. She had known what having that weapon had meant and how it would affect the games. She also knew what would happen after the games.

For better or worse. That is what she had said. He hadn't really had time to think the whirlwind of emotions that she had demonstrated during that visit, but he was beginning to get an idea of why she had looked so sad.

Winning the games wasn't really a victory. It sapped the victor of everything that made them human. He had locked away his compassion and emotions in the arena. He had to survive, but when the threat of death had been stripped away, all the locked up guilt and self-hatred had come pouring out.

Each night was worse than the one before. He couldn't remember the last time he slept through the night. His prep team had been horrified when they found the state he was in, but Finnick hadn't cared. He just let them fuss over him to their heart's content. He was anxious to get the tour started, not because he wanted to relive his nightmares, but because he wanted to see Katniss.

Somehow, she would fix him. She had to, because she had known he would break.

But when he pulled her aside and begged her to make the nightmares stop she just smiled sadly at him and said. "They never do."

When he got back to the train, he felt drained. This was his life now and nothing would fix that. He threw himself on his bed, not realizing the small package on his pillow until it flew from the force of the impact. It hit him squarely in the face and Finnick almost threw it across the room in anger, but then he saw the color: it was silver, just like parachutes in the arena.

Hesitantly, he opened it and found a small cord of rope and a note.

"I find that keeping my hands busy helps and Mags says you are good with knots. Call me if you need anything. -K"

He only makes it to District 8 before he calls.

Eyes are watching him. They are always watching him and they are all hungry. They want to devour him, bleed him dry, kill him, save him, touch him. He runs. Bushes whip past him, smacking him hard in the face. He stumbles, feeling the eyes close in on him. There is a breath on his cheek, a warmth on his skin, a hand on his throat. Blindly he waves his arms about, finding a net and a trident in each hand. They strike flesh, peirce organs and break bones. The metallic taste of blood is on the air, permeating everything and drowning him.

But no matter how much he fights the eyes are still there, delighting in the fight and eating away at his soul.

Finnick sits up with a start. His hand blindly reaches out to find his trident, but there is nothing, only the crushing weight of the dark and all the things that hide in it. Twisting, he searches for the eyes of tributes trying to kill him and being killed by him. He sees the pain in their eyes, the desire for both his death and theirs. He can't breath, he can't think, so he runs. The tangle of sheets trip him and he lands in heap on the floor - smooth save for the grains of sand that he always tracks in.

Slowly, Finnick comes back to himself. The sea breeze air wafts in through his window carrying with it the scent of salt and storms. He feels the grit beneath his fingers as he pushes himself up and the small lump forming on his head. His arms wrap around himself trying to stop the shaking, but he needs to move, to get away from the dreams.

Pacing, he walks through the house, even thinks about walking along the beach, but when he opens the door there is a ghost. He starts, shutting the door violently.

"It's not real." He whispers to himself, but every shadow hides something. He can feel them watching him, waiting for him to sleep so they can finally take him. Stumbling, he falls into the kitchen, throwing on every light in the house and curling in on himself, sobbing.

"Katniss?" Finnick asks. It was late, and he knew that she was tired but Katniss always refused to hang up first when he called. It was something he appreciated, even though he knew how much it cost her.

"Yes?" She says through a yawn.

"How do you do it?" She knows exactly what he's asking. It's the same question he asks every time he calls and he's been calling at least once a week for the last six months. How does she wake up every day? How does she sleep every night? How does she not lash out at everyone and everything? There are times when he can't decide if he wants to hold Mags close or punch her in the face.

No one really understands. No one can unless they've been in the games.

There's a pause before Katniss answers. "Is the rope not working anymore?"

Finnick looks towards the length of rope on his bedside with a half made knot still in it. He was experimenting with a new one earlier but got frustrated and decided to call Katniss. "Yes and no. It does help when I am alone, but when I am with everyone else..."

Katniss hums in understanding and he can almost see her nodding her head. "They look at you like you're broken."

"Katniss," He sighs. "I am pretty sure I am broken. I just want to be...unbroken. I want to be like you or Mags. I want to be like Jackson and smile and enjoy my family again." Jackson Browne was another victor from District 4. He was happily married with three kids. Mags had been married as well with four kids, 11 grandkids and him. They both had lives after the games. He wanted that too, not this perpetual, stagnant horror that he seemed mired in.

"First off, I am not a very good role model." He tries to protest, but Katniss doesn't let him. "Secondly, Mags and Jackson went through their fare share of problems before they pulled themselves out of it, and even now they aren't out, not fully. Jackson refuses to be a mentor because he gets flashbacks. He barely comes out of the tribute center during the Games. The only reason he comes at all is because it's mandatory for the victors to be there. Mags...well you haven't seen her yet when she loses a tribute.

"Finnick, we all have problems. Some just mask it better than others. Some can't deal with it and they hide in a haze of drugs and alcohol. You need to decide if this is something you can live with or not. But I will tell you now, it takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart. Don't let yourself go Finnick."

He lets her words wash over him. Thinking about it how her voice breaks as she talks. How long did it take for Katniss to put herself back together? How many times has she fallen apart?

"Alright Katniss. I'll try."

He hears another yawn before a warm "Good." And he knows she is probably smiling.

It's three weeks until the reaping for the 67th Hungers Games. Finnick can see the changes in the district and in the Victors. The feeling in the Victor's Village is heavy and subdued. He didn't know if he hadn't realized it because he had been young and preoccupied with his own silly issues or if he couldn't understand what was happening because he hadn't lived it, but now the broken edges of the Victors as clear as day.

Jackson holds onto his children tighter than normal, clutching his eldest the tightest. She's going to be 12 this year. Finnick hopes that she will make it through the reaping unscathed - if she was chosen Jackson might not make it.

Mags becomes very withdrawn. Growing up, he didn't spend much time in the city around the reaping. It was the beginning of the tuna season and was one of the most profitable times of the year. His father would emerge from the bottom of his bottle long enough to get a few good weeks in with Finnick before the reaping. They would be at sea until the very morning of the reaping and then he wouldn't even get to see Mags until she returned from the Capitol.

Finnick doesn't even know how to handle it - going back to the Capitol, sleeping in the Tribute Center, watching 23 kids go off to die. A part of him wants to hide like Jackson does and not emerge until the end.

"You could." Katniss says when he tells her this. "No one would fault you for that."

He sits on the porch of his large house in Victory Village, listening to the waves roll in. "You would."

"No Finnick, I wouldn't." Her voice is warm compared to the cool summer night and he holds on to with desperation. With Mags lost in her own world, Katniss has become his main source of comfort in the last few days. He can feel himself slipping away at times, anchored only by her words and the rope.

"How did you decide to become a mentor?" He asks. Katniss sighs and shifts. He can hear the rustle of fabric and he wonders if she is lying in bed of she's out looking at the stars like he is.

"Vick."

Finnick frowns, "Vick Hawthorne? Isn't he only ten?" Through many conversations, he had learned that Katniss shared her home with not only her family, but also the Hawthornes. She never went into detail, only saying that "It was the least she could do" and that "She could never really repay them."

"Eleven actually." Katniss says, "And at the time, he was barely six. Vick and I got close after..." She trails off for a moment before she coughs. "Anyways, I was struggling. My mother couldn't reach me and Prim got through at times, but there was something about Vick that I clung to. We would walk around the town most of the day since he wasn't old enough for school yet and I had nothing else to do. He saw others struggling and wanted to help since we had so much. People from District 12 have an unhealthy amount of pride, but a cookie coming from a six year old is hard to turn down.

"Helping them, seeing the smiles on their faces when they got a cookie or a roll from Vick, made me want to help too. We couldn't feed the whole town, but between my mother, Prim, and my winnings we could do something almost as good. We completely remade one room of the house, turning it from our dining room into a small apothecary. We used all our excess money to stockpile bandages, antibiotics, morphling, hard to find herbs - anything my mother might need to treat the wounded and the sick. We became the closest thing District 12 had to a hospital and we made a difference.

"For the first time since the Games, I felt like I had a choice, like I could control something. I liked it, but when the Games rolled around all the life drained from the town. They were wounds my mother and Prim couldn't heal but protecting the other kids was something I could do. "

There is silence when she finishes. She had nothing left to say and Finnick doesn't know how to respond. There is a strength to her story, a determination to her words that has been lacking the last few days. It is like a burst of color in the grey of his world.

"Did you protect them?" He asks, but he already knows the answer. There hasn't been a victor from District 12 since Katniss.

"No."

"Was it worth it?"

"Sometimes."

Finnick bites his lip, realizing that 'sometimes' might be the best he can hope for.

The reaping is hard. After his talk with Katniss, Finnick decided that he wants to be a mentor. He wants to help, because if he doesn't and he lets himself hide, he will never be able to crawl back out. Besides, he likes spending time with Mags and he knows this way he'll get to see Katniss.

It's selfish, but this is as much for the kids as it is for himself.

Coming back to the Capitol is hard. Harder than he thought it was going to be. Seeing the perfectly sculpted skyline with its clean streets in ordered rows with designed foliage and plants reminds him how detached the Capitol really is. This isn't life and when he is here, Finnick doesn't feel like he is really living.

He watches the tributes as they try to be brave. He knows this is how he looked and he just hopes that they can find some type of inner strength. Neither of them were strong candidates this year. District 4, unlike District 1 and 2, don't train their tributes. It's true that they tend to be stronger than the candidates from the poorer districts like Districts 11 and 12, but that is only because they are better fed. There is a hatred that flows through the veins of the people of District 4. It's as strong as the storms at sea and as constant as the tides.

Perhaps it's because they have the strength to hate, but when he was on his Victory Tour, the vivid malice he saw in the eyes of his friends and family wasn't reflected in every other district. Most of what he had seen was defeat and it made his hatred of the Games and the Capitol grow with every blank gaze he had seen.

When he had seen District 12, he had been amazed at how Katniss had come from such a place and how she could talk about it with such warmth. Katniss didn't think about herself as a strong person, but he could see it, hear it, feel it, every time he talked to her.

It had been six months since he had last seen her and he couldn't wait. He knew his first opportunity would come at the Tribute Parade and he was more than ready to dump his tributes off with their stylists and prep team. There wasn't anything he could do for them right now anyways, not until he got them sponsors and Katniss promised to help him with that.

He had told himself he could slip by the cameras, since they would be focused on the tributes and sneak to the tribute center, shower and catch up with Katniss before the Parade Ball - but that had been too optimistic. The second the train doors had opened, Finnick had been bombarded with questions. It was all he could do to turn the attention back to his tributes.

Once inside their apartment he sighed, falling back against the door of his bedroom. He was exhausted. The shower could wait while he slept for a bit. Finnick fell onto his bed, pulling out the string and he traced his fingers of the knot until he fell asleep.

"Finnick Odair!" Came a squeal of happiness. Finnick looked over at an unknown woman. He had slept up until the stylist came for him, throwing him in the shower and all but tossing his clothes at him. Dimitrius was his stylist from last year and thankfully appreciated his natural appearance, letting his hair curl as it dried and only applying a hint of makeup. It meant that getting ready for events like the Parade Ball were relatively painless.

That didn't mean that the event itself was any less so. The squealing woman had attracted a few others who were fawning all over him. He was used to attention, more so now that he was a victor, but this was over the top. One woman even tried to slip her hand through his partially open shirt!

"Ladies," Came a smooth voice that almost purred. Finnick blinked as his mind tried to place the familiar voice. All eyes turned and there was Katniss Everdeen. His mind reeled as he attempted to place the warm, comforting voice from the phone with the sultry, smoky words spilling from her mouth. "While I understand that it certainly is hard to keep your hands off a man as perfect as Mr. Odair, I will have to ask you to release him. I have business with him and a few other individuals would like to make his acquaintance."

The women pouted, and the hand in his shirt lingered, but eventually they left under the watchful gaze of Katniss. Finnick sighed in relief as she straightened his shirt. "Thanks Katniss."

Her gaze softened. "You're welcome. I am surprised you dared to enter alone. A second later and they would have whisked you off into some dark corner to have their wicked ways with you."

Finnick paled. "They wouldn't."

Katniss stared at him for a moment, her eyes shifting between guilt, sadness and curiosity. "You still don't understand the effect you have on people, do you?" She asked. Her tone genuinely surprised.

"I, uh, no?" He knew he was fairly attractive. It was part of the reason that he had gotten so many sponsors and so many love letters in the last year, but this reaction was on a whole new level. Was his smile really all the powerful?

"Well, you will have enough women here stroking your ego tonight. I don't need to be one of them." She said playfully. She took his arm and lead him through the room. It was decorated in bright golds and reds, the colors of Panem, with screens littering the room so people could see the tributes as they rode through the main square. Here they could watch their tributes, listen to the commentary and begin scoping out potential sponsors.

Finnick saw some more Victors scattered about the room, even Haymitch Abernathy was there, though he was sticking close to the open bar. Finnick turned his lips slightly at the man. Katniss caught his gaze and squeezed Finnick's arm.

"He's a better man than you think he is." She said. Finnick wanted to protest, but Katniss was already introducing him to a group of people.

The night flew by in a blur of people and colors. It was hard to keep it all straight, but there were two things that Finnick would not be able to forget. The first was the way Katniss skillfully directed the conversations. She knew when to smile and when to frown. She knew who to compliment and who to ignore. She knew how to throw insinuations and insight rivalries. She was charming the crowd and making it look effortless.

The second thing that stood out was her ability to deflect women from him. It was almost as if her very presence was keeping them at a distance. He could feel their hungry gaze on him, but as long as he was with Katniss, he was safe.

This woman on his arm, he realized was very, very powerful. He had always known that she had an inner strength about her, that had become abundantly clear over the last year and from the games he had seen her prowess with a bow, but this woman was something altogether different - and he didn't know if he liked it. She drew attention, and not all of it was good.

Towards the end of the night, Katniss politely excused herself. It was the first time all evening that she had let him go and she left him with Haymitch. Some women had tried to approach, but Finnick wasn't paying much attention to them. His focus was squarely on Katniss. She was talking to a man who, in Finnick's eyes, was all too friendly with her. His hands were always touching her in very possessive ways and Katniss wasn't doing anything about it. In fact, it looked like she was encouraging him.

When the man's hand strayed a bit too low for Finnick's liking, he moved to intervene - it was no less than Katniss had been doing for him all evening - but Haymitch stopped him with a hand on his bicep.

"Don't." Came the strong command. It was crystal clear, and entirely too sober sounding for how much Haymitch had been drinking.

"Why not?" Finnick spat disbelieving. How could Haymitch - her mentor - allow this to happen?

"Because she's working." He said. He took another gulp from his glass of whiskey. "Haven't you learned anything from watching her tonight?"

"She's letting him grope her to get sponsors?" Finnick didn't want to believe it. He turned his gaze back, but couldn't see Katniss or the man any longer. He panicked, but Haymitch didn't let him go.

"We all do what we have to." Haymitch said. "Let her go boy. This is something that you don't want to get involved in."

Finnick finally wrenched free from Haymitch, but didn't go after Katniss.

The rest of the times before the Games followed a similar pattern. New information would come out about the tributes and they would go to balls, gatherings and dinners. Finnick would always attend with Katniss, and towards the end, she would let him try his hand at getting sponsors.

They were constantly surrounded with people, so there was ample opportunity to practice. So far he had skirted by on his good looks alone, but that hadn't been enough for Katniss. She wanted him to use his head too.

As they floated from group to group she would start off, leading the conversation in a direction she wanted, then she would hand it off to Finnick. Gentle squeezing of the arm, whispers in the ear and once, an appetizer shoved right in his mouth, helped Finnick learn when he was going in the right direction and when he had made a social faux-pas. It was hard, but the tidbits of information that Katniss fed him helped immensely.

Finnick sighed, munching on a small quail leg during a brief moment of silence. "I think this training is harder than what the tributes are going through." He eyed the group of victors in the corner longingly. They were drinking, laughing and being generally antisocial with the rest of the Capitol elites. He envied them.

Katniss followed his gaze. "Sorry, you won't ever be able to fade into the background. If you want to keep your head above water, this is is how to do it."

"All this because of my dimples?" He joked. "They are more powerful than I ever imagined."

"Your dimples, your sun-kissed skin, your bronze hair, your gorgeous green eyes. I am afraid it's the whole package. It won't matter if you are standing over there with them, or here with me. You attract attention and you are still a boy. Just wait until you are a man."

Finnick shivered playfully. "I'll have to wear a suit of armor to these things in the future then."

Katniss smiled back, but there was a twinge of sadness there that made him frown. "What do you think I am wearing?"

He felt like pointing out that she was wearing a beautiful red dress, but for some reason he didn't think that is exactly what she meant.

The tribute from District 1, Augustus Braun, won. It was harder than Finnick realized watching his two tributes die. He had tried to prepare himself for it, but as soon as the girl died, he realized that it was impossible.

Mags had put a hand on his shoulder when the boy died and left the viewing room. He hadn't seen her since. He finally realized what Katniss was talking about. Mags was taking it very hard. He wondered how much she had done for him last year to make sure he had made it out of the arena. He also feared what she would have done if he hadn't.

Finnick had stayed with Katniss and Haymitch until their last tribute died. One had been lost in the blood bath, but the boy had made it to the top 8, a pretty amazing feat given half of the final eight that year were Careers.

With all of their tributes gone, the three had left. Haymitch proceeded directly to the bar to acquire alcohol and Finnick noticed how much heavier the man drank that night. Katniss went straight to the roof and Finnick followed.

He had never been up here, but found it calming. If he squinted, he could almost see the stars past all the light generated by the city. Katniss didn't say anything, just holding out a hand for him, which he took.

They sat in silence for a long time, and while Finnick was sad, he didn't feel the need to reach for his rope. His hands were occupied with Katniss' - his thumb trailed over the back, marveling at her warmth and softness.

She was the rock in his life and he was holding on to her with every fiber of his being.

"Katniss," He asked, breaking the quiet. "Mags said you got me that trident and net, you helped me with my interview, and you've been helping me ever since. Why?"

She looks back over at him. The light of the city is reflecting in her eyes, making the dark pools shine. She looks older in that moment and Finnick wants to take back the question.

"Mags asked me to."

"And?" He prods. There had to be an 'And'. He was realizing that there was a bond between the Victors - a deeply emotional one based on the horrors that they had all experienced, but that couldn't explain everything she had done for him. She had given aid to another tribute even when she had two of her own to deal with. That was unheard of.

"And...you reminded me of someone." She says it with a hint of wistfulness and sadness and he thinks the shimmering in her eyes might be from more from than just the city lights.

Finnick squeezes her hand to bring her back to the moment. "I bet Haymitch didn't like you spending all that money on me."

Katniss smirks and he's glad to have gotten her mind off of her 'someone'. "Oh yes. He was furious actually."

"Did he yell at Mags?"

"He wasn't mad at her." Katniss says. "He was mad at me."

"For helping someone from another district?"

Katniss turns back to look at the city, "No. For what I had to do to get the money."

He opens his mouth to ask what she did, but the look in her eye has taken on a glassy sheen again. Finnick shuts his mouth with a snap. After everything she has done for him, he refuses to be the reason she cries.

All too soon the games were over. There was no Victory Tour to look forward to this year. That meant it was going to be another year before he saw Katniss again. It was a heavy, angry thought. In that moment he hated the Capitol for not letting them travel to other districts. Everything seemed clearer when she was around and Finnick was not looking forward to hazy days and nightmare filled evenings.

As he hugged her goodbye, Katniss lingered, holding him tightly. This made him frown, and when he asked if she was alright, she just shook her head.

"It's nothing, just realizing that you are growing up too fast." This made him really confused, but she didn't elaborate. She walked away, boarding the train for District 12 never looking back.

"And then," Finnick laughed, holding the phone to his ear as he read over the letter, "Then she finished the letter with a giant lipstick mark! As if it wasn't bad enough that the whole letter reeked of perfume!"

Katniss laughed on the other end. It had been three months since the Games and Finnick was finding it harder and harder not to call Katniss every day.

"I told you, Mr. Odair that you are too popular for your own good!" There was a twinge of something when she said that, but he waved it off. Whatever it was, the next letter he read would make up for it.

"Should I read you the one that I am sure is from a little girl?"

"Finnick!" Katniss chided, "I thought you above cradle robbing!"

"I can't help it! Soulful green eyes run in my family. Apparently my father had to beat women off with a stick." It was true. His father often told stories about some of his more cavalier days when he wasn't lost in the haze of alcohol. Finnick didn't think he would ever be like that, but he had to admit, he was beginning to enjoy some of the attention - if only because it was so outlandish.

"Sounds like my mother and Prim." Katniss laughed. "Ever since Prim turned 15 it seems that every boy in town shows up at our door."

He heard a protest in the background and Katniss argued "It is true Prim! You just don't see most of them because Rory scares them off first!"

"Do you think she's figured it out yet?" Finnick asked. It was clear to everyone that Rory was head over heels for the younger Everdeen. The boy had been in love with Prim for a long time it seemed and had finally worked up the courage to make a move.

"If she hasn't I would be surprised. Rory isn't exactly subtle." They both laughed. "The other day, he went hunting and traded his catch for three Primrose cookies. When she thanked him he turned bright red. Poor thing didn't learn anything from watching Gale. "

This caught Finnick's attention. "Who's Gale?"

All laughter from the other line stopped. There was silence for a moment and then, "What about you? Have you received any baked goods from town?"

The way she ignored the question completely made him want to ask it again. He had never heard her mention a 'Gale' before - not when talking about her family, not when talking about about the Hawthornes, or even the other people in District 12.

He knew better to ask, but the name still stuck in his mind for the rest of the day.

"You turn sixteen in three days, and you still haven't been kissed." Katniss said, her voice full of shock. Finnick was making dinner for one. His father was still at the docks and Mags was at a sick friends. He was all alone and he had instinctively reached for the phone. Now he was wishing he hadn't.

"Why are we talking about my love life again?" He sighed. It seemed like the topic of conversation often these days. Katniss was always prying, trying to get information about girls in the District Four who had expressed interest in him or who he might have his eye on.

The current answer was no one. Sleeping was getting easier, but he still had horrible moments where he would be fishing and instead of spearing a fish it would be one of the tributes. Sometimes he saw them under the nets he was making, and other times floating in the water. He tried to jump in after one once, right onto some rocks. If Mags hadn't grabbed him, he would have been badly injured.

No, he wasn't safe to be around - not normal people at least. Mags understood, so did Katniss. That was why he spent most of his days with Mags, fishing and making nets and hooks or on the phone with Katniss.

"Finnick," Katniss sighed, "You were the one who said you wanted to have a normal life after the games. Dating people is what normal people do!"

"You aren't dating anyone!" He said. At least he thought she wasn't. What about Gale, his mind whispered. The boy she never talks about. The one thing that Katniss refuses to tell him.

"And I told you I am a horrible role model!" Her voice had taken on an edge. "Finnick, I just want you to enjoy your life while you can."

This made him pause. There it was again, the note of sadness and anxiety. It had been there more and more often these days.

"You make it sound like I am going to die tomorrow." Finnick said, trying to lighten the mood. "I know that I can be clumsy, but that's stretching it a bit."

"Clumsy in love maybe." Her voice was light again, then she lowered it into a purr. "Do you need me to teach you how to flirt?"

Finnick rolled his eyes. "I know how to flirt."

"Prove it." She said. So he did.

Two days later, when he called her, Finnick Odair was happy to report that he finally had his first kiss.

Finnick's hands were still shaking as he dialed Katniss' number. President Snow had been here, in his living room not 30 minutes ago, ordering him to sell himself to the people of the Capitol or else he would kill off a member of his family.

The way Snow had spoken, the way he had looked at him, Finnick knew that he would.

"Hello?" Came a soft voice on the other end.

"Prim? Can I talk to Katniss?" Finnick said. His voice must have been shaking as much as he was because he could hear the concern in her voice.

"Is everything alright?" She asked. He genuinely liked the younger Everdeen. They had talked a few times when Katniss wasn't around and he liked to think they were friends. He didn't want to worry her though, not with this.

"Yeah, of course. I just wanted to see if your sister was around."

"Oh, okay." She said, but he knew Prim didn't believe him.

There was a shuffle as Katniss picked up the phone. "Finnick. What's wrong?"

"President Snow. He was here."

"When?" Katniss asked, her voice harder than he had ever heard it.

"He just left. He wants me to-to-" Finnick couldn't even say it.

Something crashed in the background. He heard Prim say something before Katniss told her to leave. He had never heard her raise her voice at her sister before.

"What did you say?"

"I couldn't think, but -"

"You have to agree." Katniss interrupted him. Finnick stopped shaking. Did Katniss Everdeen just tell him to whore himself out to the Capitol?

"What?" Is all he could say. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Katniss who protected him. Katniss who always talked him down, who helped him stay whole, was telling him agree to Snow's terms. "No! I can't do that! I can't -"

"Finnick." Her voice was softer this time, but still held an edge of steel. "Trust me. The alternative is not worth it. Your pride, your dignity - they aren't worth it. He will kill off your friends and your family but you can stop it. Just do it."

She sounded exactly like Snow. "You can protect them." He had said, with that smooth hiss of his voice. Finnick could still smell the blood and roses that lingered on the man's breath.

"I don't know if I can." Finnick whispered. His hand reached into his pocked finding the rope there. This was all too much for him.

"You can Finnick. You already know how to do most of it." And he realized he did. Katniss had taught him. She had taught him to work the Capitol parties. She had shown him how to touch them, how to excite them, how pit powerful enemies against each other to reap the benefits. And this last year, she had been pushing him to be with girls. She wanted him to learn to flirt and kiss, to attract women and make them feel special.

Everything she had done had been for this: to make him a perfect puppet for Snow.

"You knew." He bit out, his anger at her replacing his anger at Snow. "You knew that he was going to make me into a whore."

"Finnick-" Katniss tried, but he wouldn't let her speak.

"NO! You have been training me for this all year. You never really cared, you were just manipulating me, making me ready for my coming out party" Finnick spat. How could he have been so blind? How could he have trusted her?

"Finnick, please -" Her voice is strained, but he doesn't care. Finnick slams the phone down, unable to even hear her speak anymore. It rings immediately, but he refuses to answer it.

His fingers itch to make a knot but that rope was from Katniss. He can't look at it, can't bear the thought of it in his hands, let alone his house. In a fit of anger he throws it into the fire.

He doesn't stay to watch the rope burn.

Finnick rolled his shoulder. The 68th Hunger Games were almost done. These seemed even harder this year. He still had Mags, but the protection of Katniss Everdeen was gone and every woman in the Capitol knew it.

He had wanted to yell at them but that wasn't allowed. He had to smile, flirt and be their every fantasy personified. It wasn't easy, but at least he didn't have preset appointments during the Games - no, any women he bedded during the Games would be because he choose to.

The first appointment had been the hardest. He had almost refused, but one look at Mags had convinced him to go. He loved Mags and she was all he had left right now. Without her he didn't know how he would make it through the days.

The nights had been hard. He had glared at the phone. Sometimes it was even in his hand before he remembered he wasn't talking to Katniss. She was the reason he was in this mess. She was the reason he hated himself more than ever, the reason he took showers but never felt clean, the reason he couldn't look at himself in the mirror.

He had only been called to the Capitol once before the Games started - a small boon, but one none the less. It seemed that everyone wanted to wait for when he was most desperate to buy his attention. They wanted to him to beg for their money and their time to save his tributes.

And he did. He pouted, batted his eyes and even composed a poem for one woman just to get a few extra pieces of bread for his tributes. It hadn't helped. The kids had still died. These games had been won by Duilia, a tribute from District 2. She had been deadly with a spear and too much for anyone but another Career.

Tomorrow was going to be the live recap and then they could all go home. Finnick was looking forward to being at home again. He hadn't thought the Capitol could could be any harder to but he had been wrong. This whole trip had been incredibly taxing.

As Finnick stepped out of the elevator, he was immediately pushed back in. Haymitch Abernathy was there with Mags. She stood in front of him, with her back blocking him while Haymitch closed the door and hit the button for level 12.

Finnick looked down at his small mentor and then at Haymitch. Mags was refusing to even glance at him but Haymitch was looking him straight in the eye. For some reason this irritates Finnick more than their hijacking of the elevator.

"Something I can do for you Haymitch?" He asks, not even trying to keep the bile out of his words.

"I don't know boy, can you?" He drawls, his voice lazy as he scratches his chin.

Finnick sighs. "I am really not in the mood for games." This gets him an elbow in the gut from Mags. She turns and glares at him over her shoulder. Finnick lets out a small puff of air and rubs the spot. "What?"

"Katniss." The woman mumbled.

"What about Katniss?" Finnick asks, a tinge of worry in his voice. He know he shouldn't have this knot of concern deep in his gut - he's mad at her, furious - but it's almost instinctual.

"Fix it." Is all she says.

The door to level 12 opens and Finnick is pushed out by his tiny mentor. It's clear from the way the two victors block the door that aren't going to let him go until he talks to Katniss. He had been actively trying to avoid just that. He hadn't taken her calls, refused to see her when she showed up at his door, ignored her at parties. He had heard the whispers and seen the looks that everyone was shooting his way, but he hadn't cared. She had all but presented him to Snow with a bow on.

He could try to push past the two, but then Mags would be even more angry with him and Finnick didn't want to deal with that on top of everything else. So he turned and walked farther into the apartment. It would be best to just get this over with.

"Her's is the third door on the right." He heard Haymitch call.

He knocked lightly, but there was no response. He was tempted to leave, but he was tired of running. Here was his opportunity to cut ties completely - no more running, no more interference from others, just a clean cut.

It is what he wanted, wasn't it?

Before he could second guess himself, Finnick opened the door and stepped through. He called out softly, "Katniss?"

She was there, sitting on her bed staring at the large screen on the wall with a vacant expression. It was a picture of woods in the fall, leaves even fell from the trees every few seconds. She was just watching it, clearly lost in a memory.

It took him a moment to reconcile the woman in front of him with the one in his mind. Gone was the confident woman full of life. Her cheeks had a hollowness to them and the pallor of her skin was immediately noticeable without makeup. In the overly large shirt, she looked so much smaller than he had ever seen her.

Fix it, Mags had said. Had he caused this?

Cautiously, Finnick sat down at the edge of the bed. "Katniss?" He tries again.

She blinks and looks at him, her eyes coming into focus. "Finnick." She whispers. "You came."

"I didn't have much choice." He mutters, glancing back at the door. When he turns back, Katniss had drawn her knees up to herself. The shirt shifts as she clutches them and one olive shoulder sticks out. He can't tear his eyes away from what he sees - the skin is littered with large, thick scars.

"It's been almost five years." She whispers, her eyes glazing over as she rests her chin on her knees. Her fingers play with the fraying edge of the shirt in a practiced manner. "Five years since I first met Snow and - He sends a bouquet of roses every year - February 12th."

Finnick frowns. He knows that's not anywhere near Katniss' birthday. It also has nothing to do with the Hunger Games or the Victory tour. "What happened on February 12th?"

"Snow killed Gale." She whispers. Her hands move from the edge of the shirt to her shoulders. He sees the red marks from her nails as she claws the scars. "I was going to do it. I was going to go to the Capitol and, and...but Gale he begged me not to. He told me we could protect everyone and I believed him because it was Gale. But no one knew that Cray was gone and Gale took that stupid turkey to his house. When I got to the square there was already so much blood and Gale-He wasn't moving but Thread just kept beating him. I tried to stop it, but he wasn't moving. He-"

She was shaking now, and Finnick didn't think, he just reached out and gathered her into his arms. He remembered her words. "The alternative isn't worth it." Is that how Snow operates? he doesn't just kill your loved ones but he tortures them, makes you watch and then relive it every year? He always knew the man was cutthroat but even Finnick hadn't thought he would go that far.

If he had said no, what would Snow have done to Mags? Images of Mags flood his mind: Mags drowning because her legs were broken and him unable to resuscitate her, Mags bleeding out from an accident at the docks while he tries to stop the bleeding, Mags out past curfew and being beaten to death while he watches. He wouldn't have survived that - and Katniss knew that.

Finnick sits there, holding Katniss until she is done crying. She had tried to get a few more words out but they had dissolved into tears and unintelligible mumbles almost immediately. As the body wracking sobs finally subside, Finnick feels her reach up and touch the wet spot of his chest from her tears.

"Sorry." She says into his shirt. Finnick smiles.

"Don't worry. I didn't like this shirt anyways. It didn't highlight my eyes enough." He feels her laugh more then hears it.

"Do you know I had hoped you were going to die in the arena?" Her arms reach around his waist and tighten. "I had known you were going to be popular, that you were going to be like me. I never wanted anyone to have to go through that. But you were so strong and Mags loved you so much..."

"So you got me that trident and net." He whispered.

Katniss nodded. "And I am glad I did. It's selfish - so selfish. You hurt so much and I am just glad you are here. Don't hate me. Please don't hate me."

He didn't. In that moment, for the first time in months he didn't hate Katniss Everdeen. He hated Snow for putting them both through this and he hated himself for not listening to her - but not her. He realized in her broken mind that she had thought she was protecting him, that by letting him live his last two years in blissful ignorance that she was doing him a favor.

And perhaps she had, but he still wish he had known. He wish she had told him.

"Just promise me, no more secrets." He whispers into her hair. Katniss hugs him tighter, burying her face father into his chest. He knows she says something. He can't hear it, but he does see the nod and that is good enough for him.

The months after the games are still hard. Both Finnick and Katniss don't know what to say at first. They walk on eggshells, but they are talking. Finnick calls periodically and each call is easier than the last. He feels a part of himself uncoil and return to life every time she laughs, but he knows that she is still worried that he is going to cut her out of his life.

He knows though that he could never really do that. Last time he tried he had died inside and she did too. They are too tightly intertwined to ever truly let go now.

He was glad to have her back, especially since the end of the games meant that he was back on the market for Snow. He would go to the Capitol for a week at a time and meet with a few people before coming back. Those weeks were hard, not just because of the appointments themselves, but because the Tribute Center didn't have phones.

Those nights, all Finnick wanted to do was call Katniss, hear her voice and let her comfort him but it was impossible so he started making knots again. Katniss had sent him a new cord when he confessed he had burned the last one. This one wasn't as smooth as the last, but that would change the more he worked it.

Katniss had appointments too, but they never seemed to match up. Finnick secretly believed that it was because Snow knew how important they were too each other and refused to let them meet.

"Perhaps." Is all Katniss would say on the subject, but Finnick thought she felt the same too.