Throughout the wedding, Annie had been wavering. Walking down the aisle, although mobile, he could see in her eyes that her conscience wasn't present in that room – that her thoughts and heart were far, far away, hidden in the dreamland she had created for herself since the day her partner tribute had been beheaded.

Standing in front of him, something shifted behind her dark green eyes, and suddenly she was there, grinning up at him as if they were the only two people in the room. Finnick couldn't supress the goofy grin that lit up his face, and his hands reached up to cup her delicate face between his rough palms.

"Oh Annie," he whispered, her name like honey on his tongue. The doctors in District 13 had warned him that she might not be present during their wedding, and told him not to get his hopes up. But how could he not, when there was still a sliver of a chance that she might be?

At the sound of her name, Annie's smile grew brighter, and her slim fingers curled around his wrists, her thumbs making a path of slow circles towards his knuckles.

"Finnick." When she wasn't there, Finnick sometimes felt like she no longer knew who he was. The look she gave him, it was the look you'd give a stranger you were passing by on the street. In those moments, it felt like all his hope – all the faith he had stored up to keep him going all these long years – had disappeared like a puff of smoke. But her saying his name, it was the sweetest thing he had ever heard.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his thumb stroking her cheek. Beneath his light touch, her skin turned a deep pink and she smiled embarrassedly. But it was true. Although the dress had been originally made for Katniss, it may as well have been designed specifically for her. It was a cream fishtail, with a deep plunging v-neck and a sparkling belt, which altogether hugged her figure perfectly and brought out the pearliness of her soft skin. Annie had always been one of the more beautiful women of District 4, but in the moment, Finnick swore she was the most beautiful woman in the whole of Panem.

"Are you ready?" asked the vicar, a smile on his face. Like a light bulb, the light behind her eyes switched off, and a dull, easy smile spread across Annie's lips. Finnick tried to ignore the sinking feeling at the bottom of his stomach, and twisted his mouth into what he thought was a happy smile. It felt like a grimace.

"Always."

The ceremony was beautiful, and throughout it Annie flickered in and out; one minute responding, the next practically dead to the world. But they made it through the vows, and were soon escorted into the dining hall, which everyone had arranged to resemble a wedding reception. Thinking Annie was distant, Finnick gently pulled her across the room towards a small side table, where a large cake sat, cutting knife absent. It seemed like the medics still didn't trust him to behave. But why would he harm himself on the best day of his life?

Suddenly, he felt a tugging at his hand, and turned to see Annie staring up at him, green eyes wide and hopeful.

"They did all this for us?" she murmured quietly, taking in everything around her. She turned towards the cake, and her fingers trailed across the plate, a small smile taking place on her lips.

"I heard Peeta iced the cake," Finnick replied, grinning down at his wife. She paused for a second, her eyes roaming the cake, taking in the intricate detail Peeta had gone to for them.

"That boy has a strong talent," she whispered, before turning away, her hand going slightly slack in his palm. Finnick didn't need to see her eyes to know she had tuned out.

Even if two people were romantically involved, unless you were married you were not allowed to share an apartment. After the reception, when everyone was tired from dancing and laughing and eating, Haymitch approached the pair, slipping a fresh key into Finnick's palm, winking.

"I convinced Coin to let me give it to you myself," he murmured, smiling conspiratorially at him. "The party is winding down now, so I don't know whether you want to…" he trailed off, raising an eyebrow, before he turned his back on them and walked into the ever dwindling crowd, becoming lost. Looking down at the flat card pressed into his hand, Finnick smiled to himself softly, before he curled his fingers tightly around it Annie's hand and started to direct her towards the open doorway.

The apartment was practically a small-scale replica of the whole of District 13: minimalistic, simple and plain. But despite the outward aesthetics, it represented freedom. This was their new start - the next-best thing to being back in District 4. Together, they would make it their home, and Finnick could imagine spending the rest of his life here with Annie encircled in his arms. Closing the door behind him, Finnick guided Annie over to the armchair in the corner of the room, setting her down gently.

"We're home, Annie," he whispered, crouching down in front of her and staring into her blank eyes. He reached out and passed a hand in front of her face: Nothing. Biting back a disappointed sigh, Finnick stood up, scanning the room once more. He shouldn't have felt sad – on a bad day, Annie wouldn't have responded, not even for a second. Today, she had been altogether present for at least an hour. It was more than he could ever hope for, and for that he was grateful.

When requesting an apartment, Finnick had asked to be situated at the top, where there was a slight view of the outside through tiny windows. Taking in everything the couple had been through, Coin gave in to their request, but only in the event that Mrs Everdeen checked in on them every day. Although irritating, Finnick was willing to cooperate with the officers, even if it was just for a tiny view and a little bit of freedom. He had known that when Annie was properly conscious, she would adore the scenery, and all he wanted was for her to be happy.

"Finnick?" as if on cue, the light was back in her mossy eyes, and she smiled softly up at him, reaching out both her hands for him to help her up.

"Yes, Mrs Odair?" he asked innocently, supressing a grin. Annie grinned for him, and gently slid her arms around his neck, craning back to look up at him.

"Just once," she murmured, so quietly he hadn't thought he'd heard her correctly."

"Pardon?"

"Finnick, I know you're not a virgin-"

"What?" he spluttered, totally confused. "But how do you-?"

"Hush," Annie whispered, placing a delicate finger over his lips, silencing him. "I'm not completely oblivious; I know what you've gone through. But darling, I don't care-" her voice cracked slightly, yet she didn't tear her eyes away from his, just continued on staring. "It gets worse. Sometimes, I can't even think. I want this," she pressed a hand against his thrumming heart, desperation clear in her voice. "If I can't have anything else, I want you, at the least. Please, Finnick." Her eyes were searching, and Finnick quickly embraced her in his arms, his head buried around her neck.

"You don't even have to ask, darling," he murmured, breathing in her sweet scent of sea salt and vanilla, a surprisingly appealing smell.

"Well, then. Let's go."

Finnick had had sexual intercourse more times than he could count; more times than he wanted to count. Each experience was a blur to him, completely meaningless and grey. Annie was like a twinkle in the dark; a firework in the nights sky. Finnick couldn't keep his hands to himself. It was like discovering a new country; his hands roamed across her flat stomach, her delicate features, her warm breasts. Every part of him responded to her touch, and after the first time they still continued, revelling in the pleasure both thought was forbidden to them. Never in his life had Finnick felt so whole.

Afterwards, Finnick lay across the double bed with Annie's head resting lightly on his shoulder, her breath tickling the hairs on the nape of his neck.

"Annie?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"Finnick-" Annie quickly rolled over onto him, her body lightly pressing against his as her hair draped down around them, forming a curtain between them and the rest of the world.

"Finnick, I have never felt better in my life." The honesty of this truth pierced Finnick's heart, and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"That's all I wanted to hear." He murmured, finding his throat choked up with emotion. Taking his hands, he placed one lightly against her cheek, the other sliding into the dip between her waist and her hips. "Annie, I love you."

"I love you, Finnick," she replied, her smooth palms cupping his face as she pulled his lips towards hers. This kiss, like all their others, was soft and passionate, with the familiar underlying feeling of despair.

"I love you, and I'll never stop." Pulling away, Annie slowly moved back into her former position, her arm now resting across his chest. Slowly, Finnick grabbed the bed cover and pulled it over them, hiding this night from the rest of the world. All his life had been displayed for the public of the Capitol to use and destroy at their own will; but this night was just for the two of them, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Turning onto his side, Finnick pulled Annie closer to him, burying his face in her mass of curly dark locks. Although the night and his constant weariness was pressing in on him, Finnick waited as his lover's breathing slowed to a gentle lull, announcing that their night was only but a memory. Closing his eyes against the harshness of his thoughts, he breathed in her heavenly scent, finding comfort in the few reliable aspects of his mostly unreliable wife.

In the years following up Finnick Odair's unfortunate death, everyone quietly watched Annie, waiting for her to lose control. By losing control, most people thought it meant an outward rage; screaming, biting, kicking, unable to resist the stabbing pain in her chest. But for Annie, she had never had control, even before she was reaped for The Hunger Games, so losing control was something she didn't have the pleasure of doing.

Some days, Annie just sat in the rocking chair that dominated her kitchen in District 4, staring out of the window and watching the world go by, her eyes, although open, unseeing. Most days, she helped looking after the children of her district whilst their parents were out helping to rebuild their city. And all days, no matter how responsive she was, Annie looked after her son, the only physical product of her one night spent with her husband.