I stare into a pair of green eyes the color of the waves of the sea. It's dark in the District Thirteen room we share, but those irises seem to shine like the beacon of a lighthouse before me.
Which is appropriate, I think. Finnick has always been like the light that calls me back to shore when no one else can reach me. There's not a great many things that I know are real for sure, there haven't been for a long time. But one thing that I'm absolutely certain of is that with his light gone, I'm lost.
"Annie," his voice breaks through the heavy silence, and from the firm way in which he calls my name I know that I must have been gone again.
I blink rapidly to try and organize my thoughts, to prevent them from swirling too fast and taking me away in their storm. Almost mechanically, I reach for Finnick's hand and grasp it like an anchor. I swallow and try to conjure up my voice, but it comes out as a nothing but a raspy whimper. In response, he tightens his hand on mine and lends me the strength I need.
"Please…" I manage to whisper, looking into his eyes. "Please, Finnick," My voice rises somewhat in volume and force. "Don't leave."
The pain that flashes through his eyes is instantaneous and piercing, before he lowers his gaze and focuses on our intertwined hands. I feel a tremor in our connection, and for a moment I think he's trembling before I realize that's not the case. Finnick is strong, always so strong. I'm the weak one. I'm the one who is shaking.
"Annie, you know." he says, and his other hand comes to cover the other side of mine, rubbing my palm as soothingly as the gentle water of the ocean caresses the sand on the shore. It works; my shaking calms, but doesn't stop completely. He looks back up into my eyes. "You know that I never want to leave you. But I have to do this. I need to. You understand…"
I feel warm trails rolling down my cheeks, and make no effort to wipe them away. I only bite my lip, trying to hold myself together because I do understand.
That man, the one that stank of roses and blood… He had caused us so much pain. He had caused everyone so much pain.
And Finnick is too good. I'm selfish, I know. I was saved by him, and now I'm is asking him not to save anyone else. It's clear as daylight that he has been in pain from the moment he stepped into our room after his meeting today. And instead of trying to help him, like he's always helped me, I'm only hurting him more.
Like I haven't hurt enough people already. The faraway sounds of people screaming and children drowning ring in the back of my mind.
"I'm so sorry." Finnick says now, his voice barely above a whisper as his hands let go of mine and his thumbs begin to wipe the salty trails of liquid from my face. His efforts are wasted though, because my tears keep flowing faster than he can dry them. Maybe realizing this, he moves his hands to simply hold my face between them, then presses a soft kiss to my cheek. When his lips leave my wet skin he puts his forehead against mine, his warm breath mingling with mine as his pleading eyes find my own through the shadows. "I hope you can forgive me."
His thick voice, the apologetic eyes, and the warmth of his proximity that simultaneously reassures and scares me with the knowledge that I may be about to lose it after having recovered it such a short time ago… They all work together to block out the sounds and images that haunt me, and then only Finnick and I are left in the room that is silent except for someone's soft cries.
When I realize I'm the one crying, I press my lips together into a thin line and force myself to stop. Finnick is looking at me with his eyebrows creased with worry, his lips shaping my name without sound.
I think that he looks vulnerable. He's trying to hold me together while he holds himself together as well, and it's taking its toll.
I don't want to do that to him. I have another moment of startling clarity, and I know that right now, what I want most is to take that pain and weariness away from Finnick. I owe him that much.
Steeling myself, I gingerly pull his hands away from my face and find my voice once more. "I understand." I say quietly. "I understand, Finnick."
Before he can say anything more, I lean forward and press our lips together. He doesn't resist, and before I know it he's deepening the kiss and everything else disappears. Both careful and firm in his affection, he makes my resolve strengthen and I know I've made the right decision.
Even if tears escape me more than once during the night and Finnick has to kiss them away, even if I hardly see him the following days because he's busy preparing for the attack on the Capitol, and even if I can feel the ominous finality of the goodbye in his caresses on our last night together before he leaves… I never go back on my choice. I know for sure that for once in my life, I'm doing something sane.
That knowledge is what keeps me going until the moment he leaves. And when he does, I know. I know he won't be coming back.
That night I let the myself get lost in the sea of madness.
-x-
8 years ago
She was swimming. The colorful scales of the fish around her flashed prettily through the water around her as she moved with ease, as if she had been born with scales and gills herself. She could feel her lips tilting upwards as the therapeutic effects of swimming took place, carrying her away from the thoughts of hunger or loss that plagued those above the surface.
Despite the state of utter peace that she was in, her senses were always alert and quick to respond in the water. It was thanks to that alone that she was able to narrowly escape being skewered on the trident that pierced through the waves.
Her quick reaction gave her the second she needed to avoid the sharp ends of the weapon, whose only harm caused was scattering the fish in the area in a frightened frenzy. Startled, she swum back up to the surface and gasped for air, momentarily relishing in the wind against her soaked face before opening her eyes and seeing the one guilty of nearly gutting her.
Twin pools of sea green eyes not unlike her own stared back from a face that was familiar, but that she had only ever seen up close through the television screen during mandatory watching.
He was the fourth district's latest and youngest victor from the Hunger Games; Finnick Odair.
He was staring back at her as if she had a tail, his lips parted and his famously handsome face twisted into obvious surprise. It took about three more full seconds for that to disappear and his expression to become a grimace.
"What are you doing?" he asked sharply. "You're scaring the fish away."
She blinked, not having expected the accusation. She replied in a heated tone. "You did that all by yourself, actually." The fish had only reacted to his trident -which was now held firmly in his hand-, not to her presence. Remembering the fact that she had almost been impaled by his weapon, she felt anger surfacing. Shouldn't he be apologizing instead of yelling at her, at least? "And you could at least act a little nicer after almost running me through with that thing." she motioned towards the trident.
"I thought you were a fish."
"Then you clearly don't deserve all the praise given to you." she snapped back, irritation consuming her because of her interrupted moment of sanctity, and because of the seeming aloofness from the guy guilty of it. "So much for Finnick Odair the great."
His eyes went so wide it was almost comical, and she momentarily had to fight down an amused grin. She thought that was probably the first time that the Capitol's favorite victor was talked to in such a way.
Letting that knowledge give her the satisfaction she needed, Annie dove back into the water without warning and swam away. She didn't bother pausing, not even when she thought she heard his muffled calls.
She didn't stop until she was back on land, where she headed straight to her house to get ready for that year's reaping.
-x-
7 years ago
Screams, tears, blood… Death.
She closed her eyes and she saw the twenty-three faces that had entered the arena with her and never left, the clarity of their memory too sharp, too unnatural. And too frightening.
The hollowed cheeks, gray skin, blue lips and blank eyes… The blood pouring from any and every orifice. The way they called her name, wailing and gasping like fish out of water. Reaching out to grab her.
She screamed. She covered her ears to try and block the sounds of the dead tributes out but she still screamed and rocked back and forth on the ground, feeling their cold fingers enclosing around her neck and her limbs, squeezing and choking her.
Far in the distance, some people whose faces she couldn't focus on called her name, told her it was okay. She screamed louder and started crying, because those people had no idea.
Time didn't exist for her. In between blacking out and awaking to old and new horrors, she was aware of being fed and clothed, but she didn't have any measure of hours or days passing. Time had stopped for her at one, unforgettable moment.
At least until the day she couldn't take it any more.
Screams, tears, blood, then death.
Too much, too much, too much.
She ran. She ran and ran from everything, not really thinking but merely going.
She wasn't aware of stopping, but the next thing she'd known she was standing at the edge of the ocean. The sky was black, and so was the water. She couldn't see anything but the darkness, couldn't make sense of anything but shadows and the faraway sounds of screams and dying gasps.
She walked until the water washed over her feet, and she suddenly knew what to do.
Join them, yes.
If she joined them they would stop screaming at her, grabbing her, hurting her. She would die under the water, just like they did. That would finally end the horror paralyzed in time.
She was just about to leap forward when her arms were constricted by an unyielding hold.
But she didn't scream. Because this time, the fingers enclosing her flesh were not lifeless and cold, but warm and strong.
She turned and saw a pair of green pools shining through the darkness.
"What are you doing?" he repeated the words that he had said what seemed like so, so long ago.
That's when time started up again.
-x-
5 years ago
She sat alone under the shade of a tree, with her arms around her knees and her eyes focused on something far away. She didn't know how long it was until the screams started again. She shut her eyes and clamped her hands over her ears, crying for it to stop, hoping beyond hope…
When she heard something that sounded much closer and real than the screams and wails of the dead.
"Annie."
She looked up and saw Finnick. He had been gone for months to the Capitol; she knew by the faraway look in his own eyes.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, attempting to smile.
She didn't return the effort, merely continued looking at him wide-eyed, before motioning to the empty area beside her. He let the obviously painful smile drop and fell beside her. It was a long time before either of them spoke.
He was the one to break the silence. "Do you still hear them?" he questioned without looking at her. "The screams?"
She squinted her eyes, as if trying to look harder into the memories that plagued her. The blood and tears, the screams… They were there. She nodded, before speaking in an impossibly soft voice, shaky with disuse. "They're not as loud now."
He glanced at her, then looked away once more. Even though she was already slipping back into a different reality, she didn't miss his reply.
"You're right."
-x-
3 years ago
"Come on," Finnick was saying, standing in the threshold of her house. "Just follow me, you won't regret it."
She only looked at him, as unresponsive as ever.
He sighed. "Annie…" he took a step closer, and she didn't flinch at the proximity, as others were used to. His eyes met hers. "Don't you trust me?" As he said it, he extended his hand to her, palm upwards. An invitation.
She hesitated, moving her own hand slowly until at last, she took his hand. His responding smile was like the sun parting the clouds in the sky, and he tightened his grip then pulled her along.
He didn't let go of her hand; not even when he stopped walking and pulled her up beside him. What she saw at their destination made her take a step back, her hold on him involuntarily tightening. She quickly looked up at him, not bothering to hide her fear as she looked at him with a mixture of accusation and fear.
"I know you're scared," he said, his voice understanding. "But this will help. You just need to trust me. Do you trust me, Annie?"
She didn't know how much longer later, she found herself on a boat with him, rocking gently on the water. It was the first time she went out to sea since the the morning of the reaping that sent her to the Games.
It was frightening.
Under the endless gallons of water she saw their faces, going over and under in a wild attempt to catch their breath, to fight the force of the flood that filled the arena… All helpless. All drowning. All but her.
She held Finnick's arm so tightly she was probably hurting him, but he didn't make a single sound of complaint.
"Bad." she muttered. "Bad, bad, bad."
"Annie, look at me." Finnick's firm tone quieted her, spoken over the sounds of the screams in her mind, and his hands -which found their way unto her shoulders- kept her grounded. "You're not in the arena anymore. You're free."
He took one of his hands off her shoulder and she was almost tempted to ask him to put it back, but kept stayed silent as she watched what he did. He reached over the side of the boat and took his hand into the water, moving it in circles and creating hypnotizing ripples. She was so entranced by it that she failed to notice until his wet hand was already around her wrist.
She looked up at him, alarmed. He smiled, then raised her hand so that it was held between them when he moved his hold from her wrist to the back of her hand.
"You trust me." he said, and he stated it with such conviction that it left no room for an alternate reality.
She trusted him.
As he lowered their hands, she closed her eyes. A soft intake of breath was her only outward reaction when the very tips of her fingers first came into contact with the deep body of water.
He guided her their hands along the surface, only letting her fingers become submerged as he did. With her eyes closed, she could only focus on the feel of the salt water on her skin, the liquid caressing her like an old friend. Finnick's warm and protective hand on her own.
There were no screams then.
For the first time since she had been reaped, Annie smiled.
-x-
1 year ago
People were whispering.
Not the ones in her head, not the ones who tormented her from death. Just the people around her. Their eyes followed her, their gossip just loud enough for her to know exactly what they thought.
She felt a tug on her hand.
"Hey," Finnick looked down at her, lips hinting at a smile. "Ignore them."
"I don't mind what they say about me." she said honestly, not looking away from him. "But now they think you're crazy too."
He grinned at that. "Maybe I am."
She laughed softly, averting her gaze as if overcome by a sudden shyness. Finnick wasn't having that.
She felt his hand underneath her chin, gently turning her face towards him again. "You're okay, right?" Despite his previous humor, there was real concern in his eyes.
Her answer was as innocently blunt as it was honest.
"I always am, with you."
That was when Finnick closed the remaining distance between them and touched his lips to hers.
There was a moment of confusion, before her whole face lit up with a smile. She kissed him back, and all the people around her -dead or alive- ceased to exist.
-x-
1 month ago
"Finnick!"
Everything else was gone from her mind. The Quarter Quell. The breach into the arena. Being captured. Her time in the Capitol. The ever-recurring screams.
It was like all of that vanished the moment she saw him, entering the hospital where she'd just arrived. She didn't pay mind to the people around them, or the fact that all she had to cover her was a sheet.
"Finnick!" she called again, and then she started running.
He ran to, and they all but crashed into each other. Their hold on each other did not so much as weaken when they fell against the wall and crumpled to the floor. She could feel his tears mingling with hers as they clutched unto each other, kissed each other and were reassured of their presence in each other's arms. Against her lips she could feel that his smile was as unbelievably wide as hers.
They were finally together again; and nothing would rip them apart this time.
-x-
Days pass, and news reach us that they're all dead.
Finnick, as well as Katniss, Gale, Peeta and the other rebels. But within hours this is disconfirmed. Only to have Finnick's official death announced the next day.
There are many grieving, but I choose to stay by myself. I expect the screams to return worse than ever, to feel the cold hands of death reaching out to me, the shadows suffocating me… But all I see are a pair of green eyes. I remember his smile. I feel his hand holding mine, pulling me from the darkness.
He wouldn't want me to get lost. So I hold on. For him.
And as time passes, and I think that it's been too long without him, and the screams start to come back… He is there again. Nine months after he left, I stare into those reassuring green eyes. They look up at me in pure innocence in my arms.
And I know he is here, because I can hardly hear the screams anymore.
A/N: I just finished Mockingjay earlier today (well, technically yesterday) and I all but ran to write something about Annie and Finnick. They stole my heart, I absolutely love them! I actually teared up when it's said that Annie had a kid X'D
