Work Text:
With two doctorates under his belt, well over a dozen publications, and a sterling reputation for research, it was no wonder that Finnick Odair’s most recognized achievement was earning the hard-won battle over the title of District Four University’s Sexiest Professor.
The winning plaque hung in a place of honor in his office, right next to the two foot by three foot portrait of Finnick in repose. Students and faculty flocked from across Panem for a single glance at the golden-haired beauty as he flit from here to there about campus. Throngs of admirers shadowed his footsteps at a (mostly) respectable distance, hoping to build up enough courage to speak into the face of that bedazzling smile. Swooning during lecture was a matter of course.
Professor Odair, however, took the attention in stride. It probably didn’t help matters that he went largely shirtless around campus, clad in the meager grass skirts favored by District Four’s sexiest. But his skin was so sensitive, and wearing clothes being such a chafing kind of habit, he supposed the eternally gazing eye was simply his burden to bear.
In fact, he mused while heading towards his office one ordinary day, he was grateful that no one in his civilian life had yet guessed his great secret – that in truth he was none other than Finn O’Dair, nonpareil explorer and adventurer. Finnick already had a hard enough time keeping an adequate stock of underwear, what with all the pilfering, and had that little tidbit been broadcasted he feared there wouldn’t be day he wasn’t forced to go commando under his grass skirts.
Finnick entered his office with an upbeat whistle. The semester was nearly over and he was itching for summer break to begin, and the chance to recommence his adventuring. The only fly in his ointment was the question that yearly plagued him: what priceless artifact to steal discover?
Immediately after plopping down in his leather chair to pore over a few books, a yellow envelope slid with a quiet rustle under his door.
Finnick groaned – lately he’d had a string of surreptitiously delivered photos, some of his more ardent admirers in questionable attire (or lack thereof - though Finnick would be the first to concede that he was not one to judge) to contend with. But after knifing through the seal of the envelope and emptying the contents onto his desk, he found only an old yellowed map, and a note written with a large, scrawling hand:
The Golden Mockingjay.
Information on the ancient ruins known as the Capitol were scanty at best. Texts never agreed on an exact location, and oral rumors placed it simultaneously in an ocean ravine and buried in the heart of a great mountain range. Explorers and adventurers from Districts Two to Twelve had tried in vain to discover its location, and Finn O’Dair knew that if he ever wanted to go down in history books as the one who found it, he’d need help of the illegitimate kind.
That’s what led him to the Outskirts – the wasteland of deserts that lay beyond the boundaries of Panem, where lawlessness, greed, and black market trading were rife.
It was also where Annie Cresta lived.
“Finn O’Dair.” A dark-headed beauty dressed in loose, lily-white linen sauntered to the slit-like opening in the large canvas tent she currently called home. “What brings you all the way to the Outskirts?”
Finn flashed his most seductive smile. “Who says it wasn’t to see you?” Inside the unruffled surface, Finn’s heart did handstands. The years had not touched her; she was as richly enticing as she’d always been.
A coy smirk twisted Annie’s lips. “As if I’d buy that line, after all this time. How many years has it been?” She narrowed her eyes at him, peering, opening the tent flap that much wider – an invitation in anything but name. “Come closer. Let me get a good look at what the years have done to you.” He stepped forward and leaned into her broadening smile, until they were close enough to share breath and she had but to lift her hand to caress her palm against his cheek, saying in a dulcet whisper, “Just how I remember.” She ghosted a faint kiss on his lips. “Perfection.”
That’s when she clocked him.
“Ow!” Finn fell backwards. Flat on his back, he yelled, “That’s my face, Annie!” to the uncaring sky.
She stood over him, blocking out the sun. “I know. It’s what I was aiming for.”
“But...my face.” He stood and gently prodded his swollen eye, glaring daggers, javelins, machine guns and a grenade or two. “Do you know how much this face is admired? An agent from D7 told me I could get it insured for at least one hundred grand!”
Annie scoffed. “That’s one hundred grand too much. And besides, you deserved it. Payback for the way you screwed me after the Arena Job, or did you think I’d forgotten?”
Finn brushed himself off. He flashed a blinding smile, teeth a strand of pearls. “You’re not still really angry about that?”
“You stranded me on an island, stole the treasure you promised we’d split, and took off in a helicopter just a giant tidal wave hit the beach!”
“And look at you! You came out of it just fine!”
Her hair swatted Finn in his one-hundred-grand-face as she thwipped around without a word and strode back into the center of the tent. Finn followed her – “It’s only because I have the highest respect for your capabilities that I did it” – to an ornate little side table laden with cut crystal glasses and a decanter of mixed wine.
Annie poured herself a drink. “I assume you want my help tracking down the Golden Mockingjay.” She laughed at his surprised look. “Oh, yes. Word gets around fast in The Outskirts.” She mulled over a long sip. “I’d be willing to help….at a price.”
Finn frowned. “What price?”
“We split the profit, naturally.”
“No dice, Annie. You know I’m not in this for the money. It’s all about the historical value. These artifacts should be sitting in museums, not decaying temples. And not in some private collection.”
“Finn O’Dair.” She said his name slowly, as if savoring the words. “When you’re not preening like a peacock or betraying me in the worst possible ways, you really have such unflagging morals.”
“Does that mean you won’t help?”
“Oh, Finn. You know I can never refuse you.”
While it was not unusual for Finn to be running full speed for his life, dodging trees and boulders and a deer or two, barreling through uncharted forest with a band of angry natives surging at his back, he’d swear to anyone who asked that he tried to avoid it as best he could.
“Why does this always happen to me?” he yelled over to Annie, running abreast beside him.
“Maybe they wouldn’t be so angry if you didn’t keep stealing their stuff?”
After a months long search the pair at last discovered the crumbling remains of the Capitol, which appeared at first glance to be an ancient fortress. But once they had begun exploring the tunnels and chambers, the many arms and legs of the vast ruins, they realized it was in fact a sprawling shrine to the ancient civilization's greatest warrior, the Mockingjay, for whom they had cast a pure golden statue which lay in the heart of their largest temple.
And Finn O’Dair was carrying it away in a knapsack.
He shot a glance behind them. “Just look at them!” The Capitolites wore strange and colorful markings all over their skin. Their hair was done up in rainbows of colors and arrangements that defied gravity. But worst of all were their clothes – so many clothes! Finn shuddered. “They’re like savages!”
After a mile chase, Annie and Finn came to another derelict building. They paused a moment to catch their breath. “I thought their society was extinct,” Finn said between pants.
“So did I. So did the rest of Panem.” They heard the Capitolite’s battle cries raging in the distance. Annie shot Finn a look. “Do you still have it?”
Finn patted his knapsack. “Right here.” He glanced around him. “We can’t outrun them forever. We should find a place to hole up.”
Poking around the overgrown grounds, they stumbled upon a forgotten manhole. “Convenient,” Annie said. Both peered into the inky depths. The cries grew louder, closer. “We might be able to hide out down there. If they find this place they’ll pass right over us.”
“It’s as good of a plan as we’ve got.” Finn started down the ladder.
“Wait! We don’t want the knapsack to fall – who knows what’s down there? Give it to me while you climb down.”
Finn shook his head. “I see what you’re at. I hand it to you, and I never see you again.” He stepped aside and gestured to the ladder. “Ladies first. Then I’ll throw it down to you.”
“Fine.”
Annie climbed down.
Finn hung his head over the round opening. “How is it down there?” His voice echoed back. It sounded hollow and empty on the return, carried a trace of the unknown that sent a shiver down Finn’s spine.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Finn, except a stench that I don’t want to dwell on. Come on down.”
“I’m dropping the knapsack.” He heard Annie’s answering call, and the sound of leather against flesh. But he could see nothing in the darkness. Finn could handle just about anything thrown his way, but despite his lion’s heart lived with a secret and consuming fear….
After a calming breath, Finn descended the ladder. He set down onto damp, hard pavement. “Annie? Where are you?” He saw only black.
And then he felt them. Sleek and slithering at his feet. “Lizards!” he shrieked. The tiny, disgusting things began crawling up his legs, torso, neck, and Poseidon help him he was pretty sure there was one making a nest in his hair “Why did it have to be lizards?”
Finn looked up at the sound of cackling above him – Annie at the tip-top of the ladder, outlined in the circular shaft of daylight, the Golden Mockingjay in hand as she waved it gleefully above her head.
“And now we’re even, Finnick Odair!” She shot out through the opening and disappeared from sight.