The Secret Worth His Time
Pairing: Finnick Odair x Heavensbee!Reader
Chapter 3 Summary: After waking up in District 13, you accidentally push everyone away, ending in being alone... or so you thought.
Tags/Warnings: fem reader, use of Y/N (twice), Panic attack, Gale being insensitive, PTSD, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 3.5k
Editor: @sweetcherries123
chapter 1
chapter 2
-.-
“Shh it’s okay,” It was a man you’d never seen before, but you weren’t scared.
Ignoring every instinct you’ve built over the past few weeks you walked towards him. He looked more scared of you than you were of him.
“Let’s get you home,” the brunette man tentatively lent out his hand.
You only thought for a moment before deciding to take it.
You jolted awake, a cold sweat running down your back. The room wasn’t the cold, stone cell that you had become accustomed to, it was sterile with machines lining the space. The wall across from you had a large window that let you see into the hallway. A blanket was draped over you and a pillow abandoned behind you, two things that were never allowed in your old chamber.
Next to you a familiar voice attempted to calm you down, “It’s alright, you’re in district 13.” His large hand began rubbing circles on your back but you quickly moved away from him.
“Please don’t,” you pleaded, terrified of what he might do.
A frown settled on Finnick’s lips as he backed away, “I’m sorry.”
You didn’t speak much after that, but he still stayed. Finnick was just happy you didn’t ask him to leave all together, he’d rather sit in the corner and stay quiet than be banished from seeing you. Especially since he finally got you back.
Later that evening, only a few hours after waking up, your father walked in. His clothes were ironed, a steady look on his face, and he walked like he had all the time in the world. Not at all how a man who just got his daughter back would be acting.
“Finnick,” Plutarch addressed the man slumped beside you, still staring at the same page he had been before you woke up. Finnick perked up slightly at the sound of his name, finally leaving the darkness that was his mind. “I would like time alone with my daughter, I suggest you go to the dining hall and catch dinner.”
He’s unsure at first, glancing between you and the door, but he knows it’s no use. Finnick nods and squeezes past Plutarch before disappearing into the hall.
Your father replaces where Finnick once sat beside you.
“Everyone was so worried about you.” He states, analyzing your heart monitor rather than looking at your shaken expression.
The silence in the room is deafening as you try to figure out if this was real or just a dream. He died. You watched him die.
This had to be another trick from the Capitol. Another simulation. Another test designed to break whatever parts of you were still intact, you thought.You had only been conscious for a couple of hours, there was nothing guaranteeing that you were actually in district 13 and not just a simulation that the trenchcoat man put you in.
Plutarch clearing his throat pulls you out of your trance, “Is everything alright?”
“You’re dead.”
Your father is taken aback for a second but regains composure, “Pardon?” “You died. I watched you die.”
Plutarch was confused as he chose his words carefully, “Y/N, I’m not sure what they showed you, but I am alive and well. I’ve been in district 13 this whole time, if you saw me in the Capitol it wasn’t real.” His hand twitched, he was trying not to reach out for you.
“No,” You shook your head trying to get rid of the wave of emotions overcoming you. The monitor beside you beeped as your heart began to race, “Get out.”
It wasn’t like you to be so demanding or emotional, Plutarch could see that whatever happened during your disappearance would change you for life. The old you was who really died in that building.
He left without another word, allowing you to process your overwhelming emotions alone.
-.-
The time by yourself was therapeutic. You appreciated Finnick’s presence, it was comforting, but you couldn’t help the fear that flooded your body every time he made the slightest movement.
A familiar figure passes by the door. One that you’ve seen in every dream since you left the capital. He was brunette with broad shoulders and dark eyes. Something about him and the fact that he saved you made you feel safe.
Closing your eyes, you tried to remember his name.
After walking at least a mile in the darkness of the sewers, the man started to lead you up a ladder which you presumed led to your destination.
“Ladies first,” He hooks his carbine on his shoulder so both of his hands are available in case you need assistance.
The metal creaked under your aching legs. Large hands encompassed your waist as you briefly lost your balance, “I got you.” He whispered and supported you until you were out of reach, his hands still out if you fell.
He was attentive and wasn’t afraid to show he cared, two things you also loved about Finnick. Finnick didn’t come to save you though.
“Who are you?” you ask once you're clipped into your seat on the jet. You began feeling light headed from all the activity in the last hour, you knew you didn’t have much time before you fainted.
The man opened his mouth to answer.
“Gale!”
His head snaps in your direction through the glass, a small smile appearing on his lips.
“I see you’re finally up, sleepy head.” He walks in and casually takes a seat on the edge of your bed. You don’t flinch when he puts a hand on your knee.
You roll your eyes at the nickname, “Guess I had a lot of sleep to catch up on.”
Gale laughs at your blatant response. He shifts more of his weight onto your bed, “How are you feeling?”
“Not great, but it’s better than being locked up.” You answer honestly, voice scratching painfully.
“Well aren’t you lucky you have me to save you.” He winked flirtatiously.
Heat crept onto your cheeks from the unexpected comment, “I guess I am.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t easy getting approval for that mission.” Gale grinned and leaned into your space.
Questions burned in your throat, you still didn’t have a clue what the condition was like before you arrived. The way Gale put it made it seem like he was the only one who cared where you were.
Before Gale is able to continue the conversation, Finnick walks in, “What is he doing here?” Finnick's eyes were glued to where Gale's side and hand were resting against your leg. He didn’t understand why you didn’t mind Gale’s touch but the second he made any move you would flinch.
“Nothing, I was just about to leave actually.” The brunette pats your knee twice before standing up, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
You nod in response, secretly looking forward to it.
After Gale leaves you’re quiet again, Finnick takes his place in the same, gray chair like earlier. The silence is thick with words unsaid.
-.-
Over the next few days Gale visits again and again, with Finnick in the room.
It pained Finnick to see you so comfortable with someone who you’d only known a few days, opposed to him, who you’d known for 7 years.
Gale made you laugh numerous times and made you feel normal. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t there from when you were a fake avox. When you talked to Finnick your words were measured, you were on high alert, and jumped back every time he moved. When you talked to Gale you blurted responses and leaned into him.
Finnick couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why him?” He whispered, almost inaudible, while you quietly read the newest report, it was your way of staying somewhat involved while recovering.
You look up mid-paragraph with furrowed brows, “What?”
Finnick took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing thoughts, “Why are you comfortable with Gale, but not me?”
“If it weren’t for Gale, I would still be in the capital living a life of torture.” You answer with only half the truth, hoping he’ll drop it.
“Is that what he told you?”
It had been an assumption you made but Finnick defying it made you second guess your intuition.
“You have no right to question me or Gale.” Ignoring the pain, you sit up straight to face him, “He came to save me while the man who I thought cared about me for the last 7 years prioritized his own safety. You didn’t even try to save me!”
Time stopped as you stared at each other, tears beginning to well in both your eyes. It felt like an eternity before he remembered to react.
“You think I didn’t try?” Finnick scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. He was furious, but instead of screaming insanities he fled, leaving you alone for the first time in weeks with no sign of coming back anytime soon.
-.-
The next day he didn’t return, it was strange. Since the moment you woke up, the only time he would leave that gray chair was when he would get food or an extra blanket for you. Nervousness chilled your bones as you realized he truly wasn’t coming back and that he probably hated you.
You missed the quiet comfort that he provided and how he would pretend to read the same page for hours. He never overstepped your boundaries and took every crumb you would give him, you felt like such an ass accusing him. But, there was nothing you could do now. He was gone and it was your fault.
-.-
It had been a week since Finnick stormed out.
Gale’s bluntness, once comforting, had started to wear on you. He’d gotten too comfortable to the point where he made insensitive jokes, most not being labeled or perceived as one until he offhandedly said, “I was just joking.” Laughing with him felt like an obligation. It felt like you had to be kind and talk to him because he saved you, but doubts began invading your mind.
There was no way to avoid him, you were stuck on bedrest so if he came in, you had no choice but to listen. It didn’t take long before you memorized his footsteps so you could pretend to be asleep before he could see into the room. Still, it only worked 40% of the time, the man was relentless.
Even with Gale consistently checking in, you were given a lot of time to think. Unfortunately, the one thing you wanted to stop doing was thinking— about your father, the torture, the fight with Finnick, and the burden that Gale had become— it all clawed at your mind. You tried to suppress it but the dam was bound to break.
“Hey, sleepy head.” You were too busy reading your book to notice Gale approaching your room.
You tried your best to smile, "Hi." Eyes staying steady on the book.
He wasn’t fazed as he hopped onto the edge of your bed and laid down across the foot of it, your feet scrunching to avoid his touch. “I’m surprised you’re still recovering. I’ve seen gunshot wounds heal faster than you.” He chuckled under his breath.
Gale loved to make little quips about your condition, it didn’t relieve any of the mental toll. He tried to be motivating but it only made you feel worse about what you went through.
Finnick would never, you thought as you tried to contain your tears that always emerged whenever his name came up. Taking a deep breath you pushed the emotions down, I pushed him away, I have no right to miss him.
You flipped to the next page, hoping the book will be a good distraction and a hint to Gale for him to leave you alone.
“Stop comparing my recovery to others, Gale.”
“Well it's hard not to,” He turned his head to face you, a classic look of boredom painting his features. “I’m not trying to say what you went through wasn’t horrible, but you did survive.”
“And that’s supposed to mean something?” You tried to stay calm, but it was becoming harder as you looked up from your book.
Reason entered your mind, He doesn’t know what happened in there, but you quickly threw it away as your emotions took the driver's seat.
“Yes. It means you're here.” Gale ran a hand through his hair, something he did when he was unsure of what to do.
Placing the book on your side table, you responded, “I think you’re missing the point.”
“Then explain it to me.”
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, “You really want me to?”
“Yes.” He said it so simply.
The room felt like it was closing around you. “You weren’t there.” You whispered, looking down at your hands.
“I know.” His jaw tightened.
“No, you don’t.” You immediately regretted saying it, but the anger had already broken free. "You have no idea what it was like."
"I never said I did." His shoulders stiffened.
You weren’t sure if Gale was trying to escalate or deescalate the situation. Still, you responded like he was. "Then stop acting like surviving means I'm supposed to be okay."
Gale stood from the bed, "I'm not saying that."
"That's exactly what you're saying."
His frustration was becoming visible, "No, what I'm saying is that you're here, not captured in the Capitol."
"And what if I don't feel lucky about that?" The words slipped out before you could stop them.
Silence.
Gale froze and your own stomach dropped.
For a moment neither of you moved.
"You don't mean that." His voice was quieter now, not quite understanding. Afterall, Gale had fought to survive for his entire life, seeing someone who didn’t have that same drive as him was new.
You looked down at the blanket pooled around your legs. You didn’t even know if it was true anymore, but you knew it was when you were in that room.
Gale sighed heavily, "Y/N." The concern in his voice only made you angrier.
"You know what? Forget it," you replied, waving him away like he was a fly.
Gale didn't leave, instead deciding to continue arguing, "Every time someone tries to help you, you shut them out."
You laughed humorlessly, "Help me?"
His eyebrows shot up, "Yeah."
"You compare me to other injuries every chance you get."
"I'm trying to remind you that you're healing." He insisted.
"Well it's not helping."
Gale looked genuinely taken aback. For the first time, he seemed to realize those comments weren't encouraging. Instead of backing down, he crossed his arms. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
You didn't have an answer. That frustrated him even more.
"I come here every day."
Guilt twisted in your chest, "I know."
"I talk to you."
The feeling begins to burn, "I know."
"I try to make you laugh."
You clenched your jaw, "I know."
"Then tell me what you want."
The question hung between you. You thought about Finnick. About the way he'd sit beside you for hours without asking for anything. The way he never pushed, never expected, never treated healing like something that could be measured.
Your eyes burned, "I don't know."
Gale stared at you, then something clicked behind his eyes and his expression shifted. Not anger, but understanding. The painful kind.
"Oh."
Your stomach sank, "Gale—"
He didn’t let you protest, "You miss him."
You looked away. That simple movement proved to him that his suspicions were true.
A pained laugh escaped him, "That's what this is."
"No." The lie sounded weak even to your own ears.
Gale shook his head, "I've been sitting here wondering what I'm doing wrong." He stepped toward the door, “And the whole time you've been wishing I was Finnick.Well, guess what?”
You hummed curiously, already annoyed and sensitive.
“Finnick isn’t here and he isn’t coming because he didn’t care enough to put up with you. I did.” He shoved a table of supplies on his way out, a loud clatter of heavy metal following soon after.
The crash sounded too much like the Capitol — metal clanging against concrete before another round of pain. Your shaking hands rose to cover your ringing ears as your eyes closed. Everything reminded you of the Capitol. The window looking into your room, the cold and humid air, and the silence that followed after each hit.
Gale’s words dug deep and the dam that sealed all negativity broke.
It really is my fault for being alone.
Everyone who cared for me hates me.
No one is coming to comfort me.
They are going to send me back to the Capitol.
Tears streamed down your face. Your chest tightened, as if someone was squeezing your lungs. Breathing grew harder with short, quick, half-breaths that didn’t quite fill your lungs.
Footsteps ran towards your room. Through your tear stricken eyes you could barely make out who it was, but you recognized the uniform.
The nurse tried to soothe you with comforting words but you didn’t hear any of it. She could tell that just talking wouldn’t get to you and tried to rub your shoulders, but you flinched at the contact. Her hand retreated and tried to talk louder this time so you could hear her over your sobs, but it was no use.
You think she was asking what was wrong or if you were alright but you lacked the brain capacity to respond, instead you curled into yourself. Your hands grasped at the shoulders of your white t-shirt and pulled tight, looking for some kind of compression that would calm your nervous system.
The nurse lingered in the corner, giving up on trying to calm you down by herself and conjuring another solution. Once she found it, she ran out of the room without another word. You didn’t even notice she left, since you were too focused on the horrible thoughts plaguing your mind.
You didn’t recall there being any new footsteps as the bed dipped from the weight of someone new.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Finnick's voice broke through the wall that your mind created.
He didn’t touch you, he knew what your reaction would be if he did. He just sat, close enough to where you could reach out to him and far enough so he wasn’t initiating anything without your consent.
You looked up from where you shielded your eyes on your knees, still staying in that scrunched up position. He looked exhausted — frail and sickly — but still painfully beautiful. His eyes were red from crying and it was clear he hadn’t been going down to the dining hall.
Finnick was still whispering sweet nothings, his body stiff with restraint.
An unknown amount of time passed as you watched him, ultimately deciding that he wasn’t going to hurt you and he was still that sweet boy you met many years ago.
One trembling hand released your shirt and reached toward him. He reacted immediately, encompassing your hand in a firm hold, a breath of relief escaping his lungs.
Not even a second later you’re tackling him in a hug. His strong arms wrapping around you in a tight, passionate hold. Finnick’s hand rubbed up and down your back in comforting motions. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, damping his shirt with the final wave of tears.
“Breathe with me,” One of his hands comes up to stroke the back of your head.
It didn’t take long in Finnick’s arms for you to come back to reality. The sobs eventually stopped and your breathing steadied, only occasional hiccups interrupting the intimate silence.
Eventually, you spoke, “Finnick?”
“I’m here, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head.
“I’m sorry.” Your hold tightened around his, scared he might leave, “I- I shouldn’t have pushed you away and I’m sorry for comparing you to Gale, He’s such an ass. I’m such an ass—”
Finnick shushed you softly, “It’s okay, baby.” He didn’t want you to start spiraling again, you’ve already been through so much today.
It didn’t help much as more thoughts rose to the surface, “Are you mad at me?”
“No… I was hurt.” He watched your body rise and fall with each breath, “I won’t lie and say I wasn’t.” His hand continued rubbing soothing circles on your back, “But, I know why you said it.”
Finnick wiped away your tears and answered every question you had. They ranged from “What was for dinner?” to “Are we safe?”
Hours passed as you laid in his arms on that tiny, uncomfortable bed. There were probably more struggles to come but for now it was just the two of you and mindless conversations that you always dreamed of while in the Heavensbee mansion.
The clock on the wall signaled that it was the early morning and that you should rest. Finnick refilled the water by your bed and tucked you in.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Goodnight.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead in parting, but as he turned away to leave, you grabbed onto his wrist.
You tug him back towards you, “Stay… please.”
It only took those words and your big puppy-dog eyes for him to fold instantly.
“I always will.”
-.-
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