If I owned the Hunger Games, Finnick would still be alive. 'Nuf said. Oh, and I don't own the song "Seal Lullaby."
Annie turned at the sound of the soft cry. At this hour, it ought to have woken her from a deep slumber, but she'd been turning, restless, trying to avoid the world of nightmares that plagued any peace that could come from sleep. In the dreams, she saw Finnick, splashing joyfully in a sparkling blue pool. Heart racing, she rans towards it, and just as she reached the edge, Finnick disappeared, and the pool became a pit of bottomless darkness, washing away all that had given Annie hope and comfort.
Until now. She crossed the room and gently picked up the wailing child. Her son. Finnick's son. Their son. He had no memories of the world in which they had lived, yet deep down Annie feared the horrors of her past transcended those boundaries and made the child cry so. She'd heard the whispers, some people had even told her outright their doubts about her ability as a mother, and there were only so many nice ways one could be told they were crazy and unstable. And on nights like these, she sometimes believed them. But how could they not know that this child was her last hope, the very thing that kept her from giving up on it all? He was her light in that bottomless pit of darkness.
Annie whispered soothingly and shifted the child in her arms. His cries were not those of hunger or any other tangible need, but something she could not place. It was as if this infant had already discovered the permanent hole in his life, and Annie could think of no way to fill it.
She softly began to sing, words springing forth like a fountain from a memory she couldn't recall. Perhaps she'd learned them as a child, or something Finnick had sung to her to chase away the nightmares.
Oh! Hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us,
And black are the waters that sparkled so green.
The moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us,
At rest in the hollows that rustle between.
The child startled, his sparkling green eyes alert with curiosity. Handsome, just like his daddy, people had said the day he was born. He'll have the girls all over him, but he'll find his princess one day. Annie smiled, praying that hers son's fairy tale would have a happier ending in this new world than her own.
Where billow meets billow, then soft be thy pillow,
Oh weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease.
The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee,
Asleep in the arms of the slow swinging seas.
The boy quieted, his eyelids drooping. Annie sighed softly. "Mommy's here," she whispered, setting the child down in his bed. She reached up, touching the spot where her heart, for the moment, no longer ached. "And daddy's here too. Forever." Perhaps the nightmares would come back, but not tonight. The pain came in waves, like the tide of the ocean, and sometimes crashed in like a violent storm. But this beautiful sleeping child would always be her rainbow. She lay back and closed her eyes at last.
Asleep in the arms of the slow swinging seas.
Fin.