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[stellationing]

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Have fun!

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for finnick }{ to make the best of what is left

[eveningprimrose]

Prim and her mother have taken to traveling in the days, weeks, and months since the war against the Capitol. Since Snow and Coin's deaths. Since the bombing of the children in the square in front of the president's manor. Since all of those deaths.

Since the real start of Prim's nightmares.

She had thought that perhaps the nightmares before the 74th Hunger Games were the worst and perhaps that the ones while Katniss was in the second arena for the Quarter Quell were terrible. But they were nothing compared to the strength and terror of the ones she is now experiencing after nearly being burned alive in the square while tending to the poor children who had already been hurt so badly. It was pure luck that she had survived. Luck that had her turn and take a few life-saving steps out of the crowd.

Luck that has now saddled her with an intense survivor's guilt.

That's why she's here in District Four now. Normally, she lives in District Twelve with her sister and Peeta. Their mother has taken to living mostly in District Four because of the terrible memories that Twelve holds for her. Prim doesn't blame her at all and, really, it's good for the youngest Everdeen to be on her own every so often, to have to make the train ride by herself or with Katniss and Peeta. She doesn't mind.

She steps off the train in District Four, heading for the building they'd selected to become the new hospital. Prim has been learning everything she can while she's around people who can teach her and now that she's here, she's ready to learn more. Her lessons lately have been all about pre-natal care.

Because Annie. Is going to have a baby.

And what journey to see Annie is complete without seeing Finnick, too? Prim has gotten used to both of them and Katniss trusts them enough to leave Prim in their care, so as soon as Prim has seen Annie, she looks for Finnick. He shouldn't be far.

[fishermansweater]

Finnick Odair is harder to find these days than he used to be. The revolution took more from him than most people know. All of Panem, now, knows the truth of his life as a victor, saw him bare the darkest memories and secrets in his soul. All of Panem had seen him publicly mourn fallen tributes. All of Panem watched his wedding. All of Panem had seen him declared dead, had heard that news changed to critically injured. Had seen him at the trials and executions. Had seen the tangled scars that now mark the face the whole country once sighed over.

He's been watched and wanted ever since he was fourteen. Prim's age. That was how old he'd been when he'd won the Hunger Games, in part thanks to the sponsor money of people who'd known what would happen once he was old enough.

The last eleven years of his life have been for Panem's entertainment, and he's tired. So he'd come back to District Four, and he'd slipped as far from public life as he could. He'd begged for privacy to be allowed to heal, to try to care for his pregnant wife. That had been good enough for most, even without the things Panem doesn't know. The darkness and demons that haunt his mind, sometimes threatening to swallow him. They're fed now not only by being twice a tribute and many times a mentor, or by the nights of fear and loathing he'd spent in so many Capitol beds, but also by the battle for the Capitol.

(Some nights, he still wakes with the stench of the mutts sharp in his memory.)

But whatever his body and mind and exhausted spirit might do, there's contentment in freedom, hard-fought for and hard-won. The freedom to do all those things: to retreat from public scrutiny, to marry and love and care for Annie, to choose what he does now with his life. To prepare to start a family with the woman he's pledged that life to.

He's fond of the gardens around the hospital. He's spent enough time here for check-ups to have grown to appreciate them, especially in contrast to the bright, sterile hospital in the Capitol that had pieced together his face and shoulder after the mutts were done with him. Besides, he likes to be close to Annie, still, even so many months after she'd been rescued from captivity. He stays out of he way, but he likes to be here.

He'd come in with her today not just to keep her company, but also to meet Prim. He's fond of the younger Everdeen sister. She'd been kind to him, those days in the hospital in District 13 when he'd been so far lost in his darkness he could barely acknowledge her. She'd been kind to Annie, too, and he's always judged people on how they treat Annie.

So he's waiting for her, and for Prim, he's done something he wouldn't usually do: made up his face to disguise the worst of the scars that trace the wounds left by teeth and claws and surgeons' scalpels. He can't quite cover them, but they're less noticeable, at least until they run down his neck to where they disappear under his shirt. He doesn't need to test Prim, doesn't need to gauge the impact the loss of physical beauty will have on her.

He knows Prim, and Prim knows him, beyond the famous face to the man he really is.

That's why, when he sees her, he swings up off the stone bench he'd been sprawled on, grinning. (His movements in his injured arm are getting less and less stiff as the months go on, but there's still a moment's hitch.)

"Hey, Prim! Welcome back!"

[eveningprimrose]

Prim doesn't care at all about Finnick's looks. She's never thought that mattered. There are so many other things that matter so much more than looks. Brains, kindness, compassion, protectiveness, and the list goes on. The only reason Prim would care about those scars running down his face and neck is because she wants to heal them.

That's part of why she's here.

Of course, most of it is because of Annie, in theory. Prim has to be here for check-ups and to learn all about how to take care of a pregnant woman. That's what she's learning. But she also brought herbal remedies from home, from her District, for Finnick's face. Not because she wants to restore his good looks or because she thinks other people might want her to.

No, Prim is only here to help Finnick. To help him heal. To help all of them heal in so many ways. That's all she wants. Because she is that compassionate. And that selfless.

So when Finnick spots her, she's got her bag over her shoulder, the bag of supplies. Some were left with Annie and the hospital. The rest she has for Finnick. Her smile is a little easier now that she's seen Annie, but it still has that slight tint, the tinge that says she isn't doing well today.

It is not a good day. Prim is functional, but barely.

"Hi, Finnick!" she calls, shifting when she reaches him so she can hug him, too. Because that's Prim. "I brought something for you. I hope you don't mind."

[fishermansweater]

He's always known Prim doesn't care about his looks, and that's enough to earn a relieved sort of gratitude from him. (It's a strange thing, to be a sex symbol turned, in the media's eyes, to tragedy by the marring of his beauty, but the people that's driven away were people whose attention he didn't want.) Beauty and fame had come at too high a price. Sponsors had saved his life in the arena, but the cost was unbearable.

Prim, though, he genuinely likes. Not just because, as Katniss' sister, he feels protective of her. Not just because she sees him as a person, not a famous face. Because she'd met him at his worst, in District 13, when he'd been in and out of hospital so much they never bothered to take off the bracelet that read mentally disoriented. She'd met him like that, and been kind, caring, friendly, not just to him, but later, to Annie as well. She's better, kinder, than he was at her age, when he was already a killer.

And she, like the rest of them, has suffered so much, so young. It's there, in her face, her not-quite-right smile, and Finnick's good at reading that sort of thing. So when he steps forward to hug her, it's warm, friendly, with a tight squeeze for a moment from his good arm.

"Not going to let Annie have all the fun?"

[eveningprimrose]

The real tragedy has been there from the beginning. All of the Victors bear it, even the Careers. Everyone in the Districts bears it, or almost everyone. Districts One and Two bear the least. Everyone else? They're all torn, all broken, all traumatized. The people who can't see past physical beauty aren't the ones who are worth being around.

"Nope," she replies behind the smile she can manage. It's small, but it's there and she thinks that's what counts. When she pulls back, she opens her bag and reaches into it. Pulling out a couple containers of herbal salves, she motions towards the bench.

"It'll be easier if we sit down, but I brought something to help you heal," she says, showing him one of the pastes. "It's for your scars." Because sometimes Capitol medicine just isn't good enough.