"Dr. Mellark? Your 1:00 is here."

Peeta thanked his receptionist as he bustled in after grabbing lunch and glanced over to the waiting room where a wispy brunette rocked in the plastic chairs across the way. "Annie?" he called gently.

Her head snapped up and her mouth made a small "o" as she took him in.

He hung up his coat and walked over to her with a smile. "I'm Dr. Mellark."

"Peeta," she said in a hoarse whisper, as if testing her voice for the first time.

"Yes, Peeta. I believe Dr. Aurelius referred you to me, is that correct?"

She nodded, unable to take her wide, green eyes off of him. "Peeta Mellark," she repeated. "You're a Victor."

"I graduated from Michigan, so I suppose you could see it that way," he chuckled. This wasn't the first patient like Annie that had been referred to Peeta; he was one of the leading psychiatrists specializing in adolescents and children. Patients often reported feeling as though they could trust him more than their previous doctors and were more willing to talk to him than anyone else. Perhaps it was because he looked so young himself, or his charming smile, or soothing personality; whatever it was, he quickly gained a reputation in the field for being able to work with some of the more "hopeless causes."

Annie Cresta had been passed from doctor to doctor over the past five years before she finally found her way to him. He had read her file at least a dozen times before her appointment but still found the girl to be a total mystery. "Would you like to come back to my office and we can get started?"

"You're a doctor?" she asked, following him down the hallway to his office. Once inside, she peered cautiously at the degrees and awards hanging on his wall. "You're a psychiatrist. Huh." He could tell she was talking to him, but she was in her own world. She smiled sadly at him. "I think it's very brave that you chose this profession, Peeta." She sat in the oversized chair across from him, her foot bounced rapidly and her fingers twitched in nervousness, but she didn't say anything more.

It was certainly one of the strangest beginnings to a session he had ever had, but judging by her file, he couldn't say he was terribly surprised. Though none of the doctors before could put a definite description of her behavior, they all had one word in common. Odd. Never quite enough for a full-blown diagnosis of schizophrenia, but there was "something 'wrong' with Annie Cresta."

Their first few sessions were frustrating for Peeta. He couldn't figure out how to get her to say more than a few sentences at a time. Then she would shut down and seemingly disappear into her own world. When she was lucid, she looked at him as if they were old friends, smiling shyly at him, laughing at his jokes. It gave him hope that there was some connection forming with the girl and he just had to latch on at the right moment.

A month in, that moment finally came. He spotted a bit of ink on the inside of her right wrist. It was the first time she hadn't worn a long sleeved t-shirt to the session. "You have a tattoo?" he asked.

She rubbed her wrist and smiled wistfully. "Yes. I got it when I was younger."

"It couldn't have been too long ago - you're not very old now."

She giggled. "You're awfully sweet, but I'm almost twenty five now."

He furrowed his brow slightly but quickly schooled his features. According to her file she was only 17, but perhaps this was the key. "Are you? Well you certainly don't look it."

A fierce blush covered her face. "You always were the charmer, Peeta."

"We've met before, then?"

"Oh yes," she affirmed. "But, um, but I don't want to talk about that."

"That's alright, we don't have to." His smile seemed to pull her away from whatever dark memory flashed through her mind and across her features. "Would you like to tell me more about your tattoo?"

Annie turned her wrist over, revealing a finely detailed trident that stretched from her wrist, halfway up her forearm. "Isn't it lovely?"

"It certainly is. What made you get it?"

"It's for Finnick," she answered, dreamily running her pointer finger over the intricate swirls inside the handle of the weapon.

"Who is Finnick?" That name had come up in her file before, but there was never an explanation as to who this mysterious man in Annie's life was. Before, whenever she had talked about him, she covered her ears with her hands and began rocking back and forth, muttering to herself. He mentally prepared himself for the scene and was surprised when she glanced up at him instead.

"Finnick is the man I love."

"Your boyfriend?"

"My husband."

Her left hand was free of any ring. There were no personal contacts in her file, only a few caseworkers who had taken a special interest in her well-being and her primary caregiver at the hospital where she was staying. Annie Cresta wasnot married nor in a serious relationship. "Your husband?"

"He was," she nodded sadly. "But…he died."

"How did he die, Annie?"

She chewed her bottom lip and scrunched her eyes closed. He watched as the finger that had been tracing her tattoo froze in its place as she seemed to ride out whatever was happening to her. "He was killed. Decapitated, from what I was told. By a lizard mutt, down in the sewers."

"You believe he was decapitated by a lizard mutt?"

"No," she shook her head violently. "Finnick would have fought off the mutts. Like he did in the arena. No, that couldn't have been how Finnick died. I think sometimes they lied to me about his death. They lied so that they could have a martyr and they're just keeping him from me." Her eyes flashed open, filled to the brink with tears. "He'll find me, Peeta. He promised he'd never leave me again."

"Hello? Earth to Peeta!" Delly snapped her fingers in front of Peeta's face.

He blinked and shook his head. "What?"

She and Madge shared a look and an eye roll. "Our table is getting cleaned. Should only be a few more minutes. Where did you go off to, Head Boy?" she asked, playfully tugging at his messy curls.

He slapped her hand away. "That's Dr. Head Boy to you, Missy."

"Oh please, Peeta," Madge giggled. "We've been your friends forever. We won't call you 'Doctor'. You should know that by now."

Peeta laughed at what he knew to be true. He, Delly, and Madge were childhood friends who all ended up in East Lansing together. Madge followed a girl who eventually broke her heart. Delly got a job teaching at the high school in Mason and opted to drive the 20 minutes to work everyday rather than live in the tiny town. And every Thursday night, they met for drinks at Hay's Bar and Grille. They were the only adults in the bar, usually overrun by college students looking to start their weekends early and cash in on the cheap pizza and beer, providing the trio with free entertainment.

"There's a booth open over here though," Delly suggested, pointing to the booth right next to the one they always sat. Peeta felt his face flush and cheek muscles twitch. "Ah, no, that's ok. I can wait."

Delly rolled her eyes again. "Jesus take the wheel, Peeta Mellark. You are adoctor who can't figure out how to talk to a pretty girl. Were all your fellow residents fugly witches or something? Just for that, I vote we sit in her booth."

"I second," Madge piped up. "She's cute, maybe I want her to serve us."

"You two fucking suck," he mumbled.

"We are the only reason you ever get laid anymore, Mister," Madge corrected him. "But we'll be nice. Tonight." She dragged him over to their usual booth and sat next to him, trying not to snicker when he grinned as soon as he saw her walk by. Long, raven hair braided down her back, a hint of olive skin peeking out the bottom of her t-shirt as she leaned on the table to talk with her customers. He couldn't really help himself; the sight of her was enough to make him feel like a schoolboy all over again.

He didn't know her name, but Delly and Madge loved to call her "Peeta's Awkward Crush" because the handful of times they interacted over the years, usually just her helping their server with food or drinks, the normally easy-going and silver tongued boy stumbled over even the simplest of words. He knew she didn't notice him, she never had any reason to, but he couldn't help but wish she would. He wondered what she did for fun when she wasn't working, what her hair felt like, and just what shade of grey her eyes really were. He wondered what she smelled like, tasted like, and sounded like. There was something about this woman that affected him unlike any woman had in the past, something even he couldn't explain.

She was a bit of a fantasy for him and while he did want her, he didn't want to lose the fantasy he created about her. So they never sat in her section. And he only watched her from afar. It was safer this way, he reasoned. He could handle the teasing from his friends but didn't think he could handle shattering the illusion he created for himself.

"How have you been this week, Annie?" Peeta asked at the beginning of another appointment. It had been a few months since Annie first came to his office and she was easily one of his favorite patients. Her symptoms had calmed down around him; she was less prone to covering her ears and rocking or just yelling when she was uncomfortable, as she had done earlier on. She told him stories about growing up around the beach, even though she was from Michigan as well, and about her dates with Finnick. Slowly, he began unraveling the world she created in her head.

She shrugged. "It's been ok."

"Is there anything specific you want to talk about today?"

"I wanted to say thank you," she said in a quiet voice.

"For what?"

"For the cake you decorated, for mine and Finnick's wedding. I know I've thanked you before, but I had a dream about it last night and how beautiful it was and I just…I just wanted to say thank you. Again."

He watched as she fell into a dream-like state when she described her dream to him. The cake certainly did sound like a work of art; swirls of blues and greens to make waves cascading throughout, dolphins splashing and playing on a few layers. It was as if the cake were as alive as the sea itself. "You said I decorated that for you?"

"Oh yes. It was the only time they let you out of your handcuffs." Her features saddened. "You were calm around me so I never understood why they handcuffed you in the first place, but you always insisted it was for everyone's own good."

"Annie," he leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on his knees. "You've said before that we've known each other in the past."

She hesitantly nodded.

"Do you want to talk about how we knew each other?"

She eyed the room suspiciously, backtracking her vision over everything in the office. "Is it safe to talk here?"

He furrowed his brow. "Of course, Annie. Everything you tell me is confidential, remember?"

"No, I mean," she dropped her voice to a nearly inaudible level, "Willthe Capitol know we're talking? Is this room bugged?" She jumped up from her seat and began running her hands over all the frames along his walls.

"This room is clean, Annie. Remember when I asked that first day if it was alright if I taped our sessions and you said no? I promise you, nothing is being recorded in here." He stayed in his seat, watching her continue to check his office, knowing better than to try to approach her when she was like this. He had enough experience being accidentally attacked by a patient in a paranoid state during his residency.

She pursed her lips. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely. If you really want to continue checking, you can. But remember, you can trust me."

She nodded and sat back on the chair, bending her legs so her feet rested on the edge and her knees were at her chest. "Ok."

"How long have we known each other?"

Annie took a deep breath. "Well, you've known about me five years longer than I've known about you. I won the…70th Games and you won the 74th."

"And that's how we know each other? Through these, games?"

She scoffed. "That's how everyone knows us. We're Victors."

"That sounds like a positive meeting, then. Why wouldn't you want to tell me that before?"

"Oh no." Her eyes widened and she pulled her legs impossibly closer to her body. "No, Peeta, that's not a good thing at all. Being a Victor is the worst thing that can happen to you. You survive the Games, you watch people die all around you, sometimes killing them yourself, and you think that means you get to go home, that you're free, but that's not what it means, Peeta, that's not what it means at all, because instead you have to do these terrible, awful things that you never would do in a million years, but you have no choice because theyown you and-"

He was by her side in an instant, kneeling in front of the now shaking girl. Her words were running together and she was showing no intention of stopping until he rested his hand on her knee. "Shhh Annie, take a deep breath, ok? Take some deep breaths. There you go. Good." He watched her as she continued struggling to take deep breaths and calm her body down. She finally began describing the fantasy world she was living in, the one so many other doctors alluded to, and he ached for her that her world was so terrible. It was one of the most difficult things about patients with even mild schizophrenia - they become attached to their own view of reality but often it's not a pleasant place to be in. And from the brief descriptions he could pick out of her explanation, this was indeed the case forher.

Once she was calmed down, he moved to stand, but her hand reached out and clutched onto his. A wave of deja vu washed over him. Even in her terrified state, she was an odd sense of comfort. "They hurt us, Peeta. They hurt us at home. They hurt us in the Games. They hurt us afterward." Her fingers moved over his knuckles, caressing them like an old friend or aparent comforting a child, even though she was the one in need of comfort.

"How did they hurt us, Annie? You and I, how did they hurt /us/?"

Her voice hesitated yet her fingers continued their movements. She was in a disconnected state. "They hurt you so badly, Peeta. They injected you with venom and tried to turn you against her. But you were so brave. You were so brave for all of us. You never gave in and you always fought back. They didn't do anything to me, said I was already broken."

"You said they tried to turn me against her. Who are 'they'?"

"The Capitol and President Snow. They didn't like us because they thought we had information about the rebellion. Johanna did, but neither of us knew anything. You were angry for a while when you found out that's what they wanted, but it didn't matter. You loved her too much; you sacrificed yourself for her."

His previous session with Annie weighed heavily on his mind that night when he was out with Delly and Madge. She shut down for the rest of the session, unable or unwilling to talk anymore about Panem or The Hunger Games, as she called them. She didn't move except to caress the trident tattoo on her wrist and whisper "Finnick" over and over. Peeta had seen this cycle, as it wasn't that uncommon among patients, but Annie felt different. She genuinely believed that she had a connection with him in that world, even though she had never met him before. He tried his best to push her out of his mind, a feat made easier when he caught sight of the server that instantly made him smile. Seeing her made the troubles from that afternoon dispel like a candle in a hurricane.

On his way to the bathroom, he heard a loud commotion coming from the kitchen, an argument between a man and woman. Normally, he'd let it go, but he recognized the voice of the woman and couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"I don't care what your excuse is! You know the rules - all the food must be paid for no matter what. It's not my fault you're clumsy and dropped that table's tray. Someone's got to pay for it."

"Come on, Cray, you can't be serious! I already told you that Clove ran into me when she was running around like an idiot. Why isn't she being punished?"

"Because Clove didn't spill and waste food. There was over $100 worth of food for that table that got ruined. Those are the rules, but it needs to be paid for at the end of the night or it's coming out of your pay, got it?" The old man stomped away, passing by Peeta without a glance.

He watched as the girl, the server he had been pining over, collected herself in the kitchen before putting on a brave face and checking on her tables. He noticed, for the rest of the night, that her smile never really reached her eyes and that she was far more subdued than he had ever seen. Especially when a particularly rude table of college boys left her their change, literally, as her tip and nothing else.

When Madge and Delly excused themselves to use the bathroom, because they had to go together, he fished out his wallet, pulling out all the cash he had. He knew waitresses didn't make that much money to begin with, especially with punk-ass college boys who thought they didn't need to tip, but to throw on over $100 on food that got ruined? It was a ridiculous policy. This place made more than enough to absorb those costs. He got the feeling that boss just needed to feel good about himself. Peeta wasn't going to stand for it, not when he was taking it out on such a hard working server. He had watched her bust her ass for her own tables and help out anyone who needed it without (visible) complaint. She accepted her shitty tips without making a scene and never let it affect her other tables.

When the trio left, Peeta made sure to throw down $160 cash from his wallet onto one of her tables without them seeing. He didn't care if she knew it was from him or not, he just wanted to make sure she got it.

"Annie, why don't you take your medications anymore?"

They were sitting on the floor, shoulder to shoulder. A few weeks ago he learned that while she shied away from most physical contact, she welcomed his. "It's a reminder that you're still alive," she confessed at the time. Her sincerity sent a shiver down his spine.

"I don't know," she answered.

"The medicine would help you, you know, keep the bad place away."

"It's not all bad, Peeta." She picked at the carpeting in front of her. "Finnick is there. If that goes away, he goes away. Then who would I have?"

"I thought you said Finnick died."

She glared at him. "That's what they said. But I don't believe them. Finnick's waiting for me, I can't just leave him behind."

"Is Finnick the only reason you stopped taking your medication?"

"No. There is a lot of love in Panem, if you know where to look. More than here."

It was the first time Annie acknowledged that there was a difference between Panem and reality. "Tell me about love in Panem, Annie. Then we can talk about love here. Maybe there's more here than you think."

She smiled and told him, again, about Finnick and what loving Finnick and being loved by him in return was like. He had to admit, the way she described it, there was no way anyone wouldn't believe their love. Then she told him about Finnick and his 'mentor' Mags, Finnick and Johanna, and Johanna and her. How Haymitch, Peeta's 'mentor', loved him and Katniss, his district partner, more than he'd ever admit. Katniss' love for her younger sister sparked the rebellion. "And you star-crossed lovers were the kindling," she finished with a sly smile.

"Star-crossed lovers?" He teased her as she started to blush.

"What a silly nickname. It fit at the time, though; you two were never supposed to work out, the odds were always stacked against you. But somehow you did." She smiled almost as brightly as when she talked about Finnick. "You and Katniss fought against everything and came out with love. Seeing you two survive without losing your love made it easier for me to raise my son without his father." Her voice caught in her throat. "You two were a great love story, Peeta. The greatest in the history of Panem."

Peeta could feel needles being injected into his skin followed by a terrible fear rushing through his veins. Images flashed before his eyes. Annie huddled in the corner of a cell. A once-muscular woman shaved bald and being dunked into a trough of water for longer and longer periods of time. She swore and laughed maniacally every time they brought her up.

He saw men in all white uniforms patrolling the cells, whips on their hips, semi-automatics in their hands. There were two redheads in the cell across from him. A woman, who was killed almost instantly, and a man who garbled his speech while the men in white suits cut him apart, piece by agonizing piece.

The lights shut off. And he could hear the innocent voice of Annie calling out to him from the next cell. He slid over and gripped one of the bars that separated them. He felt her hands on top of his, caressing his knuckles. "I'm so tired, Annie," he whispered hoarsely.

"You just have to remember why we're doing this."

"Why are we?"

"Because we love them, Peeta."

"And if they don't love us back? Then it's all a waste."

She paused and turned her hand over, exposing a large scar on her wrist that resembled a trident.

"Annie, what happened to your wrist? Did you do that?" He traced the scar with his calloused finger.

"Yeah," she absentmindedly scratched at it, reopening the small wound. "Finnick promised he'd always be there for me, so I wanted to make sure he always knew I was there for him. I guess this way, no matter what they do to me, he'll see his trident and he'll know. We'll find each other. Just like you and Katniss will always find each other."

He woke in a cold sweat, his mind still reeling from the vivid details Annie provided him about his torture in her world. She knew everything, every sight, smell, sound, feeling, as if she actually was locked in a prison cell. And by extension, he knew everything and felt trapped himself. It was real, the needle, the pain, the sounds. It was the same nightmare he had been having all week. It always ended in the same place; Annie's scar, a simpler version of her current tattoo, and her words.

He can't stand the sight of his office. He's been staring at the oversized chair that currently sits empty. Annie should be sitting in it. Or on the floor. He runs his hands through his curls and sighs. She should be in his office right now for the next few hours. It's where she belongs. He grabs the closest heavy object he can find - a paperweight given to him by a client - and hurls it at the chair. It misses and instead creates a deep hole in the wall behind it. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. He just can't be here.

He doesn't know where else to go. His feet lead him to Hay's. At 1:30 on a Thursday afternoon, he's not at all surprised to find the place deserted. He contemplates taking a seat at his usual booth and staying there until Delly and Madge show up. But something about sitting at that table that's so full of happy memories doesn't feel right.

"Fancy seeing you here so early in the day. What can I get for you?"

He looks up into the familiar grey eyes of her. Of that waitress. Of his waitress. "Just, uh, just a beer. G-Guinness, please."

She eyes him for a minute before turning around to fill their largest beer mug with the dark Irish stout. "So, stranger, what brings you here at 1 in the afternoon without your posse?" She leaned her elbows on the bar across from him and flicked her braid over her shoulder.

"Bad day at work."

"I'm sure it could have been worse. It's not like someone died on your watch or anything." Her smiled fell when he looked up at her over the rim of his glass. "Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, man. Sometimes I put my foot in my mouth without even knowing it. So what, are you like a doctor or something?" She refilled his glass and poured her own.

"Something like that."

"My little sister is in med school right now. Wants to be a pediatrician or something. What kind of doc are you?"

He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and slipped out one of his business cards to slide across to her.

"Peeta Mellark, M.D. Psychiatrist. Well look at you, Dr. Peeta Mellark," she said, sliding the card back to him. "I'm sorry one of your patients died, Peeta. Or should I call you Dr. Peeta?" The smirk on her face melted a part of his anger.

"Peeta's fine. And thanks."

"I'm Katniss."

He stared at her as she said her name and felt his heart stop in his chest. "Katniss? Like…like the plant?"

She smiled widely. "You know about Katniss plants? Oh my God, my parents were such hippies. I'm pretty sure my dad was stoned when I was born. How else do you come up with the name 'Katniss'?" She typed something into the computer in front of her. "You ok with pepperoni?"

"What?"

"If we're going to be bonding over beer, we're going to need something to help soak it up. Pizza's the best choice here. Pepperoni good with you?"

He almost couldn't believe his ears. She was going to stay and talk to him? It had to be today, didn't it? His first day without Annie. But who was he to complain? Plus, there was the thing with her name. What were the odds that Annie would tell him he was supposed to be with a Katniss in her world, and then the girl he's been crushing on's name is Katniss? It wasn't like there were a billion Katniss' running around. "Yeah, that's fine."

"So, was she your first?"

He snorted again. "Far from it. I work with youth and adolescents, already the group with the highest suicide rate without adding in severe mental illness like depression, anxiety, eating disorders, or schizophrenia. I've lost more than I care to remember. This one, she was…"

"Different?"

"Special," he corrected. "Her name was Annie."

"That's a pretty name."

"She was a pretty girl. Lived in a fantasy world, though. Couldn't really make connections with reality. We were having a break through. She finally told me she could tell the differences. That her world was fuzzy, shiny almost. This world was dull and lifeless." He knew he shouldn't be telling this complete stranger about Annie but he didn't care. Annie was gone. And Katniss was in front of him. "But it was horrible, her world. This dystopian society after the fall of North America. She actually preferred it to reality."

"I could see that. Reality sucks, especially when you're a kid and can get lost in fantasy. It's a safer place to experience emotions without needing to protect yourself." She finished her beer and quirked an eyebrow at him. "What?"

He grinned. "That's a very perceptive observation, Katniss. Personal experience?"

"That's a very personal question, Peeta," she shot back. "One best answered after a few dates, I think."

They ate their pizza and drank their beer in a comfortable silence, Peeta finally feeling something as opposed to the emotional numbness he surrounded himself in. For the rest of the afternoon, he sat at the bar and the two of them shared jokes and stories, like old friends who had been separated rather than relative strangers.

"So," she said, wiping the bar down after he cut himself off. "You going to ask me out already or what?"

He nearly choked on his spit at her forwardness. "What?"

She rested her hands on his. "Peeta, come on. You think I haven't noticed you in here before? I know you're not dating either of the blondes you come in with - the friendzone vibes are strong with you three, even if you do get a little touchy-feely with them."

"True. They're just friends." She could tell they were only friends? He couldn't remember the last time they went out and some girl didn't think he was with one of them until they got to know the girls. That kind of information came from time and observation. Did that mean she had been watching him, too? This whole time?

"And…I know about the cash you left me."

"You do?"

She laughed. "I do. I was pissed when I found out, damn near hunted you down to throw it back in your face. You're lucky Rue likes you so much and defended your honor." Rue, their normal server, had gotten to know the trio over their trips and was always a friendly face. He made a mental note to give her an extra-generous tip next time.

He shrugged. "I didn't think it was fair."

"Why did you care? I mean, we had never talked before."

He dipped his head and tapped his thumbs on the bar. "Uh, well, um….I've kind of had a crush on you since we first started coming here."

"Shut the hell up. You have not."

Peeta nodded. "I have. Madge and Delly give me hell about it. They, uh, they call you my 'awkward crush' because I normally get so tongue tied around you that I come off as, uh, well, awkward."

"You seem to be doing fine now," she challenged. "What's the difference?"

He hesitated. If he told her the truth - that it was Annie's story about him being with Katniss that made him more confident - he wasn't sure how she would take it. Annie was sick when she told him about that. There was no such thing asPanem or The Hunger Games, it was all made up in her head. What would it say about him if he believed the musings of a patient with schizophrenia? He absentmindedly began scratching at his forearm, stopping only when he noticed what he had done. A trident.

"Annie believed that her world was better because it had love. That lovers there were determined to find each other and they always would. I guess…I like to believe she's in that world now and is with hers. And she'd want me to try to find mine."

Katniss leaned over the bar and kissed him, her lips pressing softly against his. "I like this Annie. She's a smart girl, wherever she is."

"I still can't believe you got a tattoo, Mellark!" Delly squealed as they entered Hay's a few weeks later. "Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

Madge kept lifting the sleeve of his t-shirt over his bicep to see the new ink. "It's so beautiful. Where did you go?"

"There's a little place near campus. Great guy who did the design. Um, Nick… I think he said was his name," Peeta answered.

"Oh my God, Madge, if you were at all into guys, you would have flipped over him. Beautiful copper hair, tanned skin, and these gorgeous green eyes. He could probably give Peeta a run for his money in the charm department," Delly continued to gush over the tattoo artist, who, Peeta could admit, was an attractive guy. She had gone with him because she had the afternoon off and hadn't stopped talking about him since.

They took their spots at their usual table, with Peeta insisting that Madge and Delly sit on their own side and let him sit alone. They acquiesced, throwing him questioning glances until the familiar smile and faint blush overtook his face. "Hey ladies," Katniss greeted them, sliding next to Peeta and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Peeta."

"Hi, Katniss," Madge answered. "How are you?"

"I'm good. My shoulder is a little sore, I just got a new tattoo so it's still healing."

"You did? Oh my God! Peeta just got one, too!" Delly cried out. Her eyes widened and jaw dropped. "You guys did not get matching tattoos, did you?"

"Not…exactly," Peeta flushed. "We got the same thing, just a little different. And in different places."

"And we went on different days. I think that gives us enough of an out," Katniss finished, elbowing him playfully. "Plus, mine is a different design."

It was true. Peeta's tattoo was designed to mirror Annie's elaborate design while Katniss' was more earthy and abstract. When he told her he wanted to get a trident tattoo to memorialize Annie, she was more supportive than he could have figured. She asked if it'd be ok if she got a trident too, even though she didn't know Annie. He smiled, telling her that Annie really liked the Katniss she knew and would love this Katniss just as much.

Finnick's trident gave Annie the strength to talk to Peeta. Without Annie and her fantasy world, Peeta would never have talked to Katniss and could very well be stuck in his own fantasy world. Katniss wasn't perfect, far from it, but she was real. And she was here, with him. He just hoped that Finnick's trident would indeed bring Annie and Finnick back together.

"Annie? Annie?"

She heard him calling her from her bed. Was this finally it, had Finnick finally come back for her? She pushed the covers off and slipped silently out of her bed and padded down the hall. "Finnick?"

"Annie?"

He was close by. She could tell. "Finnick!" She began running down the hospital corridor until she saw him, standing by the front desk, waiting for her. His smile filled his face and she ran into his arms so hard he fell into the wall. He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his bronze hair. "Finnick! You came back!"

"I promised you I would never leave you, Annie," he whispered back, kissing her fiercely. "I've missed you so much, Annie."

"Are you here for good?" she asked, unable to imagine a world without him again. "You're here to stay?"

Finnick turned her wrist over and placed a delicate kiss on her trident scar. "I'm here forever, my love."

"I knew you would find me. I knew you didn't die."

He helped her up and together they walked toward the front door of the hospital, hand in hand, two lovers bound to find each other.

AN: Thanks to Chelzie for your help in fixing my mistakes.