A/N: Hey, everyone. I haven't updated in a long time and I'm so, so sorry. It's been hectic. I'm working on updating my other stories, and they should be up soon. Thanks for putting up with me.
Also, note that this will be quite inaccurate because I haven't read Mockingjay in a year. Please tell me what I get wrong.
Summary: She dreams of summer and swing sets and Finnick. She dreams of lush fields, lilies, the sea, and her green-eyed child. - "I promise I'll come back to you, Annie," he whispers. And then he turns and walks on. Alone. Sad one-shot during Mockingjay.
Rating: K-plus for very mild violence
Green Eyed Child
Finnick creeps through the low hanging soil roof of the tunnel. It is musty and cold, but he is used to the damp, coming from District Four. Katniss is directly in front of him; her small form able to fit snugly in the tunnel, with only a slight bending of her back. His build, however, requires him to bend at almost ninety degrees at the hips. The dusty, musty odour is strictly unpleasant, clogging his senses. Needless to say, it is not comfortable. He clenches his fist tighter around his specially designed trident; something in the air does not feel quite right.
He turns around to make sure Johanna is still holding on to Peeta. She is, but he is not struggling. Instead, his countenance is one of tiredness. The lines on his face maps out despair – of one who has let loose of all hope. He grimaces; it is not a good omen.
Finally, they reach the end. Finnick clambers out, shaking residual dirt from his tufted hair, and scraping it off his suit. Katniss turns to him grimly. "Let's go," she commands.
He nods. He turns back one last time, and there in the soil, implanted, stretching its limbs into the weak, watery sunlight is a lily. Finnick remembers the first time he'd given those very same flowers to Annie.
And he remembers her. "I promise I'll come back to you, Annie," he whispers. And then he turns and walks on. Alone.
The fall.
He remembers letting go. He remembers flying – or is it falling? He remembers their faces, sharp and distinct their caverns of horror were until all blurring into other faces. Faces that are not there. His mother, his father, Beetee, Wiress. Mags.
Mags's smiling, lined face.
And Annie.
And then pain.
And screaming.
And shadows.
Annie is sitting on one of the chaises, absentmindedly stroking her not yet swollen belly. He doesn't know yet. She'll tell him if – no, when he comes back. It will be the surprise of his life. She can see it: he'll run to her, pick her up and swing her around until they're both laughing and dizzy. The baby would have his green eyes and her dark hair. They'd name him Triton. She smiles.
She rubs soothing circles around her belly to calm herself down. Seven times clockwise… Once counter clockwise… Seven times clockwise… Once counter clockwise… her eyelids fall… and sleep consumes her.
She dreams of summer and swing sets and Finnick. She dreams of lush fields, lilies, the sea, and her green-eyed child.
Then she's awoken abruptly by a blurry man in white. She tries to sit up groggily as the air clears and she realises that it's Haymitch.
Her lips try to formulate a coherent sentence in her hazy mind. "What is it? What's wrong?" Her lips try to formulate a coherent sentence in her hazy mind.
He is silent.
"What is it, Haymitch?! Tell me." She grasps the front of his suit with all her grappling strength.
"I'm sorry," is all he says.
She sinks back down. "No," she whispers. "Finnick?"
He nods.
She exhales and closes her eyes. The shadows creep back in from the corner of her mind. And she falls. But she doesn't cry, she doesn't cry, she doesn't cry.
Thank you for reading. Please leave a review, even if it's just one word. Thanks again.
p.s. I'm working on a Percabeth one-shot that should hopefully also be up soon.