Life Through Sea Green Eyes - A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Part 1: Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership to any content related to or included in the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. I write this story purely for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of others, with no intent for making money.

Life Through Sea Green Eyes

Part One: Fish Out of Water

Chapter Thirteen

          After the post-Games interview, there isn’t much time for me to say goodbye to Germanicus and my prep team before Pompey is whisking me and my mentors off to the train station. Andromache and I exchange a few meaningless sentences, and then she goes off to her own cabin. I wonder what she does in there – probably glares at the mirror for hours at a time, trying to break it with the sheer ugliness of her personality.

          Pompey is beside himself with joy that I’ve won the Games. He does seem to be genuinely pleased that I came back alive, although when I bring out my victor’s crown he yanks it from my hands and starts babbling so cheerfully that I have to leave the room.

          Mags is waiting for me in my compartment with a bowl of sugar cubes. I grab a handful and go to stand with her by the window. It’s dark outside – we must be in the tunnel – but soon it turns to the factory landscape of District 1. “Are you excited to see your family?” she asks me.

          “Yes,” I say, and of course Mags notices the slight hesitation in my voice. “Mags, I’ve killed another human being. Many times. Some in what can probably be considered cold blood. I don’t know what my family is expecting from me, but I can never go back to the way I was.”

          “They know that,” she assures me. “But even if you came back missing both your legs and barely able to string two words together, they would still love you.”

          When the train pulls into the District 4 station a few hours later, Mags and I exit holding hands. She’s my support system in case my family really doesn’t recognize me. And after all that ridiculous flirting and posturing – not to mention the multiple murder counts – will father and Natare really welcome me with open arms?

          But as I step onto the platform, still gripping Mags’ withered hand tightly, I look through the sea of reporters and spot my father and sister. Natare sees me, and waves, and then I’m letting go of Mags, pushing through the crowd to get to my family. When I reach them, Natare launches herself into my arms, and father – not prone to emotional outbursts – throws his own arms around the both of us. Cameras flash in the background.

          “I was so scared,” Natare whimpers, and I stroke her braids soothingly.

          “It’s alright,” I whisper to her. “I did exactly like you said. I made the Capitol fall in love with me, and in return they kept me alive. And now I’m back, and I won’t ever have to leave you again.”

          Father pulls away and looks me square in the eye, as if to determine whether or not it’s really his son who’s come back to him. Whatever he sees must be good enough, because he says, “Finnick, I have never been prouder of you in my life.”

          If he knows what I will have to do in order to repay my kind Capitol sponsors for helping me through the Hunger Games, to keep him and Natare alive, I don’t think he’d be smiling the way he is now. And I will not be the one to break it to him.

          Mags toddles over. “This is Mags, my mentor,” I tell Natare and father. Natare immediately grasps Mags’ hands and demands to hear the story of the trident, and how Mags managed to give me such a perfect weapon. As Mags starts to explain – Natare clearly has no clue what she’s saying – I step to the side and face father.

          “Well,” he says gravely. “You were chosen.” At first I have no idea what he’s talking about, but then I realize that he’s gone back to the ritual we do before every Hunger Games.

          “I was,” I agree. “And I did whatever I had to in order to win. Because nothing was more important than coming home.”

          “How did you do that?” father asks.

          “I used what I know. Ropes, knots, tridents, spears – whatever I had, and whatever I could make.” But I add one last thing to the list, because I can’t stop myself. “And whatever my admirers decided to provide.”

          Father must realize I’m hiding something from him, because his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t press the issue. “And the other children, the tributes. What were they?”

          “They were sharks,” I say, but I elaborate, because how else can I do Gemma and Calliope justice? “Some of them. But you were wrong, father. Most of them were just scared little kids, trying to survive in a world gone mad. And I was one of them.”

          “And what did you do with them?”

          My head hangs down. “I killed them.”

          If father is trying to destroy me, then he’s doing a damn good job. But then he hugs me close and I realize he’s trying to comfort me in his own, gruff way. “I saw how you watched out for your District mate, and that Gemma girl. You could have turned into one of those sharks, but you didn’t.”

          “I still killed people,” I say darkly.

          Father shakes me by the shoulders and puts his mouth close to my ear so only I can hear him. “No, you didn’t. Capitol did. And if you ever forget it again, I will disown you as my son.” He turns and stalks off as if I’ve paid him some great insult. But warmth seeps through my body for the first time in days, because the guilt that has been plaguing me is finally starting to retreat.

          Natare leaves Mags alone for a second and looks up at me anxiously. “What did father say?”

          I smile. “He told me exactly what I needed to hear.”