Chapter Twenty-two: The Beginning
"Kai?"
I turn my head to see a silhouette of a person a few lengths away from me, breaking up the dead silence of the morning - save for the sound of the flowing water a few feet away from me. It takes me a few moments to place the familiar voice and, when I do, my shoulders slump. There's only one other person in Victor's Village who would be awake right now. "Finnick?"
"Yeah." He takes a few steps towards me, coming close enough for me to actually see him in the moonlight that surrounds me. His hair is sticking around, slick with sweat. He's wearing almost an identical blue sweatshirt to the one that I'm wearing and joggers; he must have been working out.
I don't speak until he's standing almost directly in front of me. "Where did you go?"
"Took a run around the lake." He points behind him, where both of us know the large lake that defines our district is. There's a beat before he speaks. "Why are you out here?"
He stops walking but stays standing a little above me. I hesitate before patting the couch. This is one of the black couches that was originally in the living room. "The same reason as you, I expect."
It's been four days since I spoke to Finnick and saw Jewel - since I really left this house. I traveled back over to my old house to grab some sentimental things that Jewel left behind. But, other than that, all that I have been doing is buying furniture and paint from the capitol; I figured that it would be easier to buy something and ship it over here than to try to talk to people in the district. They'll probably refuse to sell me anything and yell at me for causing the death of a child, which is a pretty fair thing to argue.
He accepts my offer and sits down next to me. "Wasn't this in your house?"
"I ordered new stuff, so not anymore." I reply. My eyes leave him and return to the sky, which is where my efforts were focused before Finnick appeared. It's around five in the morning right now and the sun is just starting to rise. It is painting the sky in a dark red hue, but that will soon lighten. I've found that the nightmares - most of which involve James or Alice and, one night, even Kelley - wake me up around four or five in the morning, so I start my mornings out here most days. It's peaceful to watch as the sky is painted with vivid hues. "My stuff should be shipping in today, actually."
"You didn't just get stuff from the district?" He asks.
I shake my head. "I got Orange to help me get stuff from the capitol. I doubt people will sell me anything here. "
I probably could have gotten stuff through my own Capitol contacts, but it was much easier to ask for the help of our district representative. She was more than happy to help me once I called her, and even attempted to buy some of the shit with her own money - although I refused to accept any monetary help.
He frowns before letting out a small snort. "You mean Clementine?"
"Yeah." I let out a small chuckle. I've been calling her Orange in my head basically since I met her, so it's kind of funny to hear her real name out loud.
Neither of us speak for a few moments.
I thought that him being here would disturb my calm, but it doesn't really. We sit in silence for a few moments until a question enters my mind. I ask it after a long moment of deliberation; it's probably not the nicest thing to ask, and is probably quite intrusive, but I know he'll answer it truthfully. "How many did you kill?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Finnick shift to look at me. He doesn't hesitate to answer. "Five." I bet that number is engraved into his mind.
"I killed twelve." I actually knew how many he killed. There was a bloodbath at the end of his games and, there, he killed three people with a trident. That weapon was one of the most expensive sponsor gifts in the history of the Hunger Games; it's due to the charm that he exuded during it and also his impressive looks - he was far and away the favorite. The other two kills were in the very beginning - I think. I remember being forced to watch it in school, actually. "That's a new record; did you know that?"
I don't think he knows how to respond.
I also don't really know why I'm telling him this or really what I want to say, but I find myself listing out their names quietly.
"Isabella. Astra. Julius. Jay. Nadine. Fiona. Perry. Alice." I pause before skipping over James; I did not kill him with my bare hands, although I caused his death. "Loretta. Phillip. Wayne. Freddy." I hesitate, counting, and then nod. Twelve killed - just how Snow wanted it.
Finnick exhales. "It's not your fault, Kai-"
I cut him off instantly. My voice does not waver at all. "Who stabbed them and speared them? Your five are your fault and mine are my fault. I am the one who killed them."
"Kai." He says sharply. I look over to him to see that he's staring at me intently. He holds my gaze. "We were put in a situation where we were forced to kill. We're not killers."
"But we are." I respond back in a whisper-level of volume. "Twelve children - twelve - it doesn't matter the circumstances. Their blood is on my hands."
"You - you can't live like that. Trust me; you can't think that this is your fault." I turn, breaking his searching gaze to look back at the ceiling. "Anyone would do what we did."
I open my mouth, close it, and then open it again. "Then I can't live."
"Kai." He shifts, the intensity leaving his voice instantly and being replaced with a depressed sense of reality. "Don't say that."
"Why shouldn't I say that? I can't sleep again - h - his face haunts me. I mean - twelve is bad enough but James? I - I-" I break off to inhale sharply. I felt myself starting to get emotional, which is dangerous. There's a moment before I am collected enough to continue. "He's the worst one by far. If I am too stupid - if I think myself more important than a child - if I can't, can't save a kid then what's the point?"
"I-" Finnick starts to speak but stops, thinking. Then, he starts to try to respond. "There was a twelve year old girl in my games named America. In the bloodbath, we went for the same backpack. I - I crushed her skull into a rock."
When he doesn't continue, I sit up and turn my body so I'm facing him. "And you can wake up every day and be okay with that?"
"I will never be okay with that." He shakes his head. "But I am alive today because I killed her and I will not let her death be meaningless. I have to keep living. James," I flinch at the name and Finnick - who was sitting up also - grabs one of my hands and holds it comfortingly. "He died and you lived. You can't let his death be meaningless."
"You - No. I'm not worth it." I finally settle on that. It's not wrong. I may not be telling him the truth on everything, but I do believe that. I came into this wanting to live - prioritizing my life over everyone else's. Was it worth it? I don't think so. I am a trained killer. I have no family and no one who cares if I'm gone. James - James had his whole life ahead of him.
Selfish.
I was selfish.
Finnick pulls my hand and my body doesn't try to stop the momentum. It slides over so that I'm sitting much closer to him than I was before. He drops my hand and brings his arm around my shoulders, resting it there comfortingly. Normally, I probably would flinch at this type of contact but, for some reason, it's actually really relaxing. I exhale, leaning my head over and resting it on his shoulder. His body moves instinctively at my movement and almost brings me in further. "Sorry. I shouldn't talk about this so much."
I try not to think about the intimacy of this position, about how I can smell the same scent that still lingers on the hoodie that he gave me. He - he shouldn't be this nice to me but, for now, I'll just be selfish and enjoy the company.
"It's better to talk about than keep it in." He responds quietly.
I turn my head and look over to him. He is looking down at me, and our eyes meet. I'm - jesus, he's got nice eyes. I knew his eyes were a fascinating shade of green but now, that I'm this close to him, I can make out the grey speckled throughout them. I can also see the feeling in them, pulling me in like quicksand.
He really is a handsome man.
I'm the one who looks away and back out to the sky. It is still the satisfying shade of red that it was before, except there is now a small tint of orange appearing where the sky meets the water. The sun is starting to rise.
I don't know how long we sit there, our bodies peacefully intertwined, before Finnick speaks. "You want to have breakfast with me?"
I move away from him, turning and giving him my full attention. "Why not?"
"Well, don't sound too excited." He quips back, standing, and stretching slightly. A small chuckle leaves him after he speaks. "I will say that, out of the few skills that I have, cooking is one of them."
My eyebrows rise. "Really?"
"What?" He frowns at my surprise, giving me a look of mock annoyance.
"I don't know." I stand and, once he sees I'm on my feet, we both turn and start to walk over to his house. I actually have no idea where it is, but we start to walk down the side of the lake. My eyes leave him and return to the sunrise that is painting the sky. "You in the kitchen is not an image I've ever pictured."
"What images are you picturing that include me?" He asks.
I chuckle at his question, shaking my head slightly, and turn to glance at him. Our eyes meet, causing some surprise to flicker through my face. I didn't really expect him to still be looking at me, but his head is tilted downwards to watch me.
"Well?" As our eyes meet, a small smile tilts his lips upwards. I - I wonder what he is seeing in my face; I can tell that he is probably doing this just to cheer me up, but he does seem to be enjoying this conversation.
"You actually want me to answer that?"
"I asked it, didn't I?" He grins at me.
I shake my head a little and look away from him as he stops in front of a simple metal gate, pushing it open. He nods forwards, so I move forwards through it. My attention flies to the front of his house, and I instantly notice how different it looks to mine. I am still working with the classic polished exterior of a Capitol home but Finnick - he has overgrown plants surrounding the cobblestone walkway to his house. It looks almost picturesque, the way that his house fits in so nicely to the landscape, and I can't help the soft words that tumble out of my mouth. "You really don't know how to garden, do you?"
A chuckle comes from behind me and I turn, my head tracking his figure as he speeds up slightly and walks forwards at my steady pace. Our eyes meet as he speaks, a joking tone filling his voice. "I like it like this - all unruly."
"That's exactly what someone who doesn't know how to water plants properly would say." I say, looking back around us.
I like it too, if I'm being honest. It shows some character, and it steps out from the structure of Victor's Village; this house doesn't look like it belongs here. Rather, it should be where my old house was, nestled right on the lake's edge, hidden from the rest of the District and just alone with the wilderness. I understand the appeal.
He chuckles again and steps ahead of me, walking up the steps of his porch and pushing open his front door, stepping to the side as I walk in. "Such judgemental words, Kai."
"No judgement. I'm just joking; I kind of like it." My eyes give the foliage one last glance before I flick my eyes over to Finnick. "Makes you forget where you live."
"Exactly." He says.
I stop walking a few feet into the house.
Finnick closes the door behind me and walks forwards, his shoulder brushing mine as he passes me, giving me a small smile. "C'mon."
I follow him, trailing a length behind, and he leads me through a darkened entryway; his house, at least so far, is only lit by the windows that line the walls and, seeing as how the sun just rose, it's not too lit. A very light blue hue dusts the large couch in this small entry room and, as we walk over to the kitchen, I start to understand Finnick a bit.
A home can say a lot about a person, and he is clearly comfortable here.
My attention flick over to him, noticing the slight downward tug of his shoulders and how just relaxed he looks. The Finnick who walks in front of me into his kitchen and turns to press a switch on the wall, bathing the room in electric light, is not the Capitol Finnick; I've - I don't think I've ever really seen this side of him. The district side, where he has no reputation and nothing to prove.
I move forwards and sit down on one of the stools opposite his kitchen, smiling. "So, what's on the menu, Chef Odair?"
"Last name calling, Miss Shields?" He mocks me, grinning. We look at each other for a long moment before he turns and walks over to the far left of his counter. "Do you like coffee?"
"Sure." I reply. My eyes don't leave his back as he busies himself. This kitchen is a little different than the one in my house, but it has the same layout. There is a large counter with some stools in front of it, like the one I have taken perch on, and then there is a cooking area that Finnick is standing in. The counter is separating us, but it's not in a way that doesn't seem home-y; he clearly - I mean - this is clearly a home.
Finnick turns after a few moments, holding a mug out to me. "Here."
I take it from him and, as I do, our hands brush up against each other. He smiles slightly as he turns and I busy myself with looking down at the mug he just handed me, fighting the urge to blush away. I shouldn't - well, he's an attractive man; I'm allowed to be flustered around him.
"This house is so you." After a few moments, I speak, my voice surprisingly steady. When I finish, I take a long sip of the coffee, nodding to myself at its good taste; he put only milk in it, and I'm actually someone who loves bitter coffee so this is great.
Finnick turns and glances at me, tilting his head to the side. "What do you mean?"
I swallow and look away from his intrigued gaze, my eyes flying around to survey my surroundings. "I don't know how to explain it, it just really reminds me of what I know about you. I - I can tell you're comfortable here."
"All of us change the starter version that the Capitol left us with." Finnick remarks.
My attention slides over to him. His back has turned and he is looking inside his fridge, the contemplation in his figure clear in his voice when he spoke. He doesn't move for a few moments before reaching forwards and grabbing what looks like a large bowl of fruit. "I normally just have granola after my runs, but I can make you somethi-"
"No, that's fine. I don't want to trouble you." I cut him off, a wry smile filling my face and words. "I haven't eaten much since I've been back, anyway."
Finnick frowns as he turns and sets the large bowl on the counter. Our eyes meet. "You haven't?"
"I figured that I shouldn't show my face in the District given the, um, given the Games, I suppose. Jewel filled my fridge when she was here but I've been kind of rationing what she bought me." I reply.
Concern fills his eyes.
I speak again, waving my hand in the air dismissively. I can see that he wants to give me a pep talk or something of the like, and I frankly don't want or need to hear it; I know that, at some point, I'll see the other people who live in this District and get the initial anger out of the way. I am going to avoid it until it happens, though. "Don't give me that face, Finnick. I'll get over it eventually."
His concern morphs into some amusement. "So you know I'm going to give you shit for not eating, and yet you do."
I shrug. "Well, you can't help being a mentor."
"Not like you've ever listened to your mentor." He retorts, turning around again and moving to his cabinets. I chuckle softly at his words, watching him silently as he pulls out two bowls from an upper cabinet and then two spoons before turning back over to me.
He reaches into the large bowl and spoons us both a serving as he speaks. "Where is Jewel from?"
"What?" I frown, not at all expecting his question.
Finnick glances up at me briefly before speaking again. "Jewel - your friend. I haven't seen her around since that first day. Is she from our district?"
"Of course. It's illegal to know people from other districts." I counter, tilting my head to the side. "What kind of person do you think I am?"
"I don't know; I had a few friends from Six growing up. Here." He hands me one of the bowls, sliding it across the counter, and I take it, looking into it. It's granola through and through, with some yogurt on the bottom and an assortment of grains and fruits on the top. This is a very common breakfast food in our district and actually throughout the others; I remember being in District 11 for the first time and someone handed me this - the surprise at how similar our cultures were even though our locations and purposes were so different.
"How in the world did you have friends from Six?" I ask.
I've heard of people speaking through the fences that split us up, but never to a degree where they would be called friends. I suppose children can find their way through fences, though.
Finnick answers readily. "Just through the fence. There's a non electrified part where the train tracks are that I always used to hang out at and a group of boys were always on the other side too. I met one of them on my victory tour, actually - you're lucky that you didn't have to do that."
"You'd rather the world thought you insane?" My head stays pointed downwards as I stir the granola and yogurt together, but I glance upwards as he speaks.
"Without question. That tour is like salt in an already painful wound." He says. "You have to see the parents of all the children that you killed. It's, it's really not fun."
I bring a spoonful of the food up to my mouth and pause it in the air to ask another question. "Well, how were your Six friends?"
"Like when I saw them again?" He pauses and I nod, a pensive look appearing on my face as I chew. This is not bad, and I can immediately tell that the fruit in it was brought fresh or grown nearby. I could easily eat this whole bowl of granola in one sitting. "Surprisingly proud of me, actually. People blame you a lot less than you think they would; most of their anger is normally turned towards the Capitol or President Snow."
My brows crease at the mention of Snow, thoughts of my current predicament and what I need to decide for my future bubbling upwards.
Finnick notices instantly and speaks on my visual reaction to his name. "Yeah, I'm not a fan either."
"You know, I haven't talked to you too much, but we always end up on depressing subjects." I say, making him nod and look down at his own bowl. He moves backwards as I continue, leaning casually on the countertop, and I can't help the appreciative hum I make; Finnick will chalk that up to the food, but it's also partially because he's standing a few lengths away from me with slightly damp hair and an air of comfort that I've never seem him don. "Tell me something exciting about yourself."
Finnick snorts. "I can't come up with something exciting on the spot."
"Sorry, let's keep talking about Snow, then." I say. Our eyes meet, his full of an indecipherable feeling that disappears into amusement as I continue. "He's really just at the pinnacle of m-"
"Oh god, you're really describing our president like that?" He shakes his head at me.
"You've given me no other choice of conversation." I shrug, grinning, and look away from him and back to my bowl, taking another large bite of food.
"Okay, okay, something exciting about myself. I, hm, I'm really quite boring, Kai. The life of a Victor is not that glamorous. We all don't do much between Games, at least until the Cap-"
I interrupt him. "So I ask for a change of topic and you bring up your prostitution?"
Our eyes meet. I watch as his pearly green eyes - ones that are almost famed of bringing women to their knees - change from amusement to surprise and then back to amusement as he starts to chuckle; I bet that, for him, what Snow has made him do since his games is not a happy topic, but my manner of bringing it up was both surprising and also said with enough of a matter-of-fact tone that he just can't help but laugh. He doesn't speak, but he laughs loudly for a few moments.
It's a bright sound, one that makes his eyes crinkle up into crescents and his mouth widen, and I can't help but smile as I watch Finnick. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't joke about that."
"No, that was actually hilarious." He shakes off my apology which, with the smile in my voice, didn't seem too solemn, and moves on, speaking in a tad more serious of a voice. "Better to joke than be depressed about my life. How's your food?"
"Surprisingly good." I reply, taking another large bite.
He nods, some pride flickering into his voice. "You doubted me."
I hesitate and then decide to tease him some more. "To be fair, giving me granola isn't really cooking. It's more preparing of foods than anythin-"
He cuts me off with a chuckle and some words of his own. "Wow, you're going that route."
"I'm just saying! You'd have to make an actual meal for me for me to actually judge your cooking." I reply, realizing as soon as the words leave my mouth that they are kind of an invitation for him to cook me dinner - something I don't really intend to have come off as flirtatious or anything. Finnick may look like God's gift to this world, but he seems like someone who I could be very good friends with. I've never had too much luck in the romantic department, so I don't want to ruin what I think could be a great friendship with anything weird.
Finnick speaks without missing a step, though, making some of the worries that just flew into my mind dissipate a bit. "I see how it is; no respect for your mentor anymore."
"I thought you said I didn't even listen to you." I fire back, eating some more of the granola.
He chuckles. "You didn't. I told you to make friends and you basically say fuck you to my face, and then you become a career. It's fine, clearly you didn't need my help."
"Yeah. well, hours of standing idly by a river lets you get pretty good with killing things." I say back, hating the casual way that I toss those words out there. They are true - being Viper helped me perfect the violent skills that I have, but I really got good at killing things from all the fishing I did growing up and the hours I had to stand there with a knife bored out of my mind - but they bring James' face into my vision. I speak quickly, not wanting to dwell on that depressing thought. "Did you go to the Academy?"
The Academy is a - well, I guess you could call it an after school program. It was optional but most parents put their children into it in case they were reaped so they would at least have some semblance of fighting skills. It's kind of like a crash course on different weapons and herbs, and it is the main reason that we are a career district; we aren't a particularly rich area, not like Districts One and Two, but we are one of the few who train our children to kill.
Finnick hesitates and then nods. "I - yeah. I stabbed enough fish with tridents, though-"
"God, we're doing it again." I interrupt him, making him smile. "Our lives shouldn't be so sad. We need - oh! I have a question."
"Go ahead." He gestures with his spoon before looking down to his bowl.
I ask the question that flew into my mind as quickly as it came. "What's your talent? I remember someone telling me that Victors have to take up a talent after their Games."
"Oh, yeah, well, I used to teach fighting classes for the Peacekeepers. A lot of male victors choose that one." Finnick answers me, his eyes looking up to my face just as I turn my attention away from him and spoon the last of the granola in my bowl into my mouth. "It's pretty boring, to be perfectly honest. You know what you'll choose?"
"I don't think I'll have to." I swallow and look up, slightly surprised to see his eyes still on me. Our gazes lock with each other and I forget my point for a second before forcing myself to speak again; my voice is steady, which I honestly didn't totally expect. He just, his eyes are a world of their own. Finnick is still a few lengths away from me, but I can make out what almost looks like waves in them, specks of white flying around the sea green hue of them - all of those alluring colors mixing together perfectly with the confident aura that he gives off. "I'm insane, remember?"
"You - yeah, you're probably right. I doubt you'll even have to be a mentor, honestly." His lips tug downwards at that.
I tilt my head to the side. "What?"
"Nothing; I just think you'd be a good mentor. It's also always nice to have actual human company for those few weeks." He replies.
My lips rise upwards. "Wow, the great Finnick Odair considers me actual human company. I've never been more enamored."
For the second time since I've been in his house, his head tilts backwards and a loud laugh escapes him. I look down and drop the spoon from my hand into the almost entirely empty bowl. I hesitate before making myself stand; I don't want to overstay my welcome. Plus, I have a shipment of furniture that could be arriving at honestly any second this morning. "Well, thank you for the food, Finnick. I should probably go."
"Already?" He frowns, moving forwards; he stops walking, putting his own bowl down, with only the counter separating us. "You don't have to rush out, Kai."
"No, I don't want to overstay. I'm done eating, also." I extend my hand out towards Finnick, not far enough where I'd touch him but enough where his eyes flick down to my fingers before returning to my face. "You owe me a cooked meal, Finnick."
"How about tomorrow night?" He counters, smiling slightly.
I drop my hand and push the stool out from its cover, standing. "I'll have to check my booked schedule."
He frowns and I chuckle, turning and starting to walk away from him. It would be easy to just sit in this house with him for hours - our conversation is surprisingly easy and smooth - but I really should leave. "I'm kidding, Finnick. I'll be here; from all your trash talk I've got high expectations."
Finnick calls out to my retreating figure. "I'll exceed them, love."
I - love?
That's - I silently thank my luck that he pulls out the pet name while my face isn't visible to him so he can't see me blush. I mean, to Finnick I don't react to that at all and instead move forwards and open his door, leaving him alone in his kitchen but if he were to look me in the eyes right now he'd see a light pink dust that has covered my face and neck. All that shit about me wanting to be his friend and then he says one flirtatious thing and I melt like a candle? He's, I mean, he, god, I need to get my mind out of the clouds.
It doesn't take me until I open the door to my own house that I realize that, for the first time since I've gotten home, I spent a whole morning not thinking about my Games.