A/N: Ok, new fanfic. This is my second one to any new minions-I mean followers! ;) Anyway, this is the story of Finnick and Annie's son and him dealing with people comparing him to Finnick (may his soul rest in peace) and trying to find himself. It's starting out as a one-shot, but I may add more if y'all like it :) Ok, read on!
Just a Breeze
I stood on the dock, simply staring off at the ocean. The sun was setting, casting orange streaks across the crystal blue water of District 4. I liked to sit here, and feel the breeze run through my hair. Here I felt calm, and…closer to him, somehow, to my father. I am Theseus Odair. My father is Finnick Odair.
I never knew him; he died before I was born. But I always hear people talking about him. My mother told me he was a great soldier during the rebellion, even gave his life to save his comrades, comrades who eventually took out President Snow. Someone else told me how he was a brave man who was forced to endure the Hunger Games twice. Other people have told me was a player and a prostitute for the Capitol. The last one really bothered me. When I confronted my mother about this, she told me how, after his first Hunger Games victory, he was forced into prostitution by President Snow because of his beauty. I was horrified how someone could do that to another human being. But my father was strong, and pulled through to help end Snow's tyranny. I'm proud to call him my father.
I truly wish I could meet him. I know so much about him. My mother, Annie, can talk to me for hours about him. It makes me miss him that much more. She always tells me how much I look like him, how some days, she'll look out at the docks by our house and swear she sees him there, the sunlight reflecting off of his fair hair, the light bouncing off the water, making waves dance across his tanned body. But then he turns around, and she sees my face there. Not Finnick's. She tells me how much he loved the sea, and would spend hours out in the water, just engulfing himself in its cool touch. She tells me of their wedding day and the look of pure bliss in his sea green eyes, and of the ocean themed cake that made them sparkle. I guess it reminded him of home.
I too love the sea. I spend so many days out here, just smelling the salt in the air, dreaming of the father I never knew, but want so much to become. It pains me every time I hear the mention of his name. People see me and stare. I'm Finnick Odair's son, the boy whose father gave his life to save all of Panem. I hear them, as I walk by, compare me to him. He looks just like him. His eyes, though, they're crazy like his mom's. Can he throw a trident? Does he know who his father is? Is that Finnick? How did he come back?
I've worked so hard to be like him. My mother tells me how great he was with a trident, how it was the only thing that saved him in his first Games. I've trained with a trident, to try to follow in his footsteps. I can fight with it, but the spear is my weapon. You can fight with it from afar or up close. I love it. I've tried to find other ways to connect to him too. I watched some footage from the Quarter Quell, and watched the girl he allied with, Katniss Everdeen. She was incredible with a bow. I tried to fight with one of those too. But it just didn't click. I can't leave my spear.
I sit here on the dock now, trying to find him. I cry as I think of all the things about him I'll never know. I pray every day that I can see him, just once. Just to know he's there, that he's proud of me. I lift my head to that cool sea breeze. I call out, "Please! If you're there, I need a sign. I try so hard to know you. Are you proud? Can you even hear me?" I put my face in my hands, crying, wishing that I could know him. The breeze picks up, and I swear I hear something new in it. It's almost like a whisper, Yes…Theseus…proud…well…son… My spirits seem to lift, if only for a moment. The breeze was so warm for the ocean. So comforting and warm. Could it be…? No, it couldn't. It was just a breeze, wasn't it?
I look into the water and stare at my reflection. I've seen pictures of my father before, and everyone says I look just like him. I can see what they mean. The clear water reflects my face like a mirror; my bronze colored hair, my eyes as green as the sea, my tanned skin, darkened from days spent out at sea under the blazing sun of District 4. But I can also see parts of me that are, well, me. My eyes are larger than Finnick's, brighter, and—as my friends have told me—crazier. I'm not as muscular as my father but more streamlined and fast, I'm built for swimming fast. I don't have that same seductive look of my dad; I think I seem more calm and inviting, like I want to be your friend, not your lover. As I start to really examine myself, I realize something. I'm not my father. Why do I keep trying so hard to be? I am myself. And that's what I need to be. I need to stop worrying about filling my father's shoes and more about wearing my own. I love my father, and grieve for the relationship we never had, but I need to move on and be myself.
I gathered my things and walked back up to my house. I needed to know more about him, but I also needed to move on with my own life. I'm twenty years old, and have made nothing of myself. I may be Finnick Odair's son, but first and foremost, I am Theseus Odair. I got home and started packing things. I needed to know more about the world. If that breeze meant anything, my father was proud of me. Now it's my chance to make ME proud of me. I can't sit here my whole life and dream of my lost father. If I really wanted to honor his name, then I need to make something of myself.
I went downstairs and told my mother of my plan. She smiled so big, I almost cried. I'll miss her so much. I'll come back for her, I swear it. When I've found a home for myself—when I find myself—I'll come back for her. But for now, I had another plan in mind. I'm heading to District Twelve. Another breeze picks up and blows through my bronze hair. This time, I swear, I can feel smile in it.
A/N: Ok, there it is! Hope you liked it! I don't have much more to say...please R&R!
Fly on, Captain Mockingjay