Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, nor do I own any rights to The Hunger Games. I'm just playing with the characters that Suzanne Collins has so graciously given us (and taken away). Contains spoilers, and may trigger.
AN: So, this is my first ever one-shot, and first contributing piece to THG fandom. I'm a little nervous, but here goes nothing! This is unbeta'd, but I did proofread it about twelve times. Constructive criticism is welcome, and flames will be used to light torches for my castle. Thank you all! (did I get this whole 'author's note' thing right?)
-Feathers from Orion, aka Lorinda
Of Troubled Souls and Walls
"Written on these walls are the stories that I can't explain." – Story of my Life, One Direction
He hates himself. He hates the Capitol more, of course, but it's a close call. His life overall he hates third. And he only hates it less because Annie is in his life. Without her, without his damaged little once-tribute, his damaged little victor, Finnick thinks he would have taken his life a long time ago.
At the unexpected noise, Finnick goes stiff and reaches for his side, his imaginary trident, as he hears the sound of another person breathing, reacting with the reflex that stays with all those that physically survive the arena.
Because no one mentally, or emotionally, survives the arena.
The girl curled at his side is one of the best (or worst, depending how you look on it) example of it. Finnick rolls onto his side, time in the arena forgotten, as he stares at this beautiful, heavenly creation that he was somehow lucky enough to get to fall in love with him. She looks so serene when she sleeps, he muses, so untouched by the madness that sometimes possesses her.
It took a long time to get to this place, where the two unfortunate souls that they were felt comfortable enough to sleep next to each other. Wouldn't some of those Capitol people kill to see them now, to be a fly on the wall? Finnick smirks to himself. Not that these walls have seen anything obscene, anything scandalous. No, he thinks, most of what these walls have seen were stories that he couldn't explain.
But now that Finnick has thought of the Capitol, and his latest trip, he's tense. He doesn't like the idea of these people seeing them now, seeing Annie at her most vulnerable. Seeing her thick eyelashes flutter as she dreams, seeing her brunette hair in little wisps across her face, the light from the lamp on his bedside bringing out the red highlights in her hair. It was Annie's idea to leave the light on- it keeps the nightmares away, she told him as she pleaded with him to keep it on- and he had to agree that, overall, he did feel better with the light on. She was so like a child sometimes, Finnick thought, so innocent in her childishness. So clean, and sometimes, especially if they were out on the water, he could forget that she had been damaged by the Games.
Annie was like a bright, clean wall.
And Finnick, he was dirty, scorched, damaged.
Troubled by how contaminated he is, and how close she is, he slips out of the soft cotton sheets and quietly, as only someone trained to be stealthy from birth can be, pads to the window and throws open the curtains. He hope Annie doesn't wake up- the moon is full, and with the way it shines into the room, it creates ominous looking shadows that turn into the horrors she faced during the events that drove her mad. Being afraid of shadows- just another thing that makes her childlike.
Yes, Annie is definitely an innocent, no matter that she's experienced murder up front. Finnick wishes he could be innocent for her, that they could be a naïve couple that people in the district would tell stories about how pure their love was for the rest of eternity. But he isn't innocent, he isn't capable of being pure, because the Capitol has corrupted him, corrupted his body.
Finnick told Annie what he was forced to do, the way he was forced to 'entertain' before the first time they made love.
Annie instantly decides she doesn't care, in fact has to encourage him. "You can't make me dirtier than the Capitol did, Fin. It will be different, you and I. You're heart isn't in that." When Finnick hesitates, she threatens to take a lesson from some of his Capitol lovers and tie him to the bed. As he laughs, he feels the walls, with their strange stories, let down a rope and let Annie in.
As they twine together in his bed after, for the first time in four years, Finnick feels clean. He doesn't feel disgusted by intimacy, for the first time at all.
"Finnick?" Annie asks questioningly, and he turns around to see her walking towards him, the worn cotton nightgown she favors flowing behind her. Normally she sleeps in silk, but when he comes home from the Capitol she wears cotton in their bed until he approaches her, makes the first move to be intimate. He likes to feel clean before he touches her, needs the hickeys, the bruises, the 'love' bites to be gone before he feels like he deserves to hold her again. Sometimes Annie gets so frustrated because she'll want him, want him to be close, to be one with her, and he can't bring himself to do it. She's often observed talking to herself more when Finnick returns; she is telling herself that he just needs a few swims in the ocean, a few nights of staying in the shower for hours in scorching hot water before he pulls himself back together, that he hasn't decided to leave her for someone else, someone sane, stronger, or worse, some girl from the Capitol.
She knows all about pulling yourself together. She's become at expert at it since Dylan got his head chopped off.
Finnick can feel the change in the air the moment she thinks about her district partner. Her haunting, mint green eyes cross and become glassy. "Annie?" He asks calmly, knowing she needs him to be steady now. She needs him to be the rock in that hides her from the waves of madness. He grabs her arms gently, and his heart quakes when he sees her pupils dilate in fear. He knows she is reliving her games.
"It's okay, Annie, you're safe. You're safe with me, here in District 4." Finnick guides her to the bed, and grabs her hands, making soothing circles with his thumbs on the clenched knuckles. When she quits shaking he knows she's almost out of it, and he figures it's safe enough to run down to the kitchen to get the one thing guaranteed to help her snap out of it. He returns to the bedroom in the flash, a jar in hand. He removes the lid and the scent of ocean fills the room. Annie breathes deep and uncrosses her arms. As she breathes in the smell of the one thing that always makes her feel safe, she lies back in the bed, coming back to reality, imagining the lap of the ocean at her feet. She feels Finnick wrap his arms around her, his scent of sugar and salt water, of love and of home wrapping around her heart. Even though she's in the hazy twilight of sleep, she hears Finnick murmur in his melodious voice, "You're safe, Annie, with me. You'll always be safe with me." And with that she descends into a dream world where the voice keeps her safe from the shadows that she knows occupy the walls.
Twenty Years Later
The blue house still stands, as a memorial to one of the youngest victors Panem has ever seen, as a memorial to a mentor, and as a memorial to a rebel who died for a cause to free them all from tyranny. Most of the other houses have been torn down, except for the ones that were once home to the biggest victims of them all. As it is, there is only one house that is still lived in. Annie and Johanna live together in the house the color of sea foam, right next to Finnick's house. Once a year, they give interviews to the cameras that come to remember the man who was once the most desired person in Panem. Johanna has pretended, for the past twenty years, that she does not know that Annie sneaks out of the house almost every night. She pretends not to know that the only place Annie really feels safe is in the room that she once occupied with Finnick, the room with the little ships that are around the baseboards.
Annie pretends that she feels safe in the walls that are her own, when in reality the only walls she really feels safe in are the walls that were the first witness to the love between two broken, troubled souls. And some nights, Annie can smell the scent of sugar and sea water, as if Finnick has become the walls and has continued to comfort her and keep her safe.