LOVE IS LIKE LIGHTNING

Summary: Love is like lightning. It's unpredictable, yet so unbelievably beautiful when it hits. It likes up your entire world with its energy, its power… You never want it to hit anywhere else. Finnick and Annie never expected to find solace in each other. But their love was a force of nature – they couldn't control it.

A/N: This story goes from Annie's reaping to the end of Mockingjay. True to the books. All in her POV.

Chapter 1 – Reaping

The sun sits low on the horizon, dimly illuminating my rigid silhouette as the unrelenting wind blows through my long, chocolate locks. It runs up my exposed thighs and shoulders as I wrap my arms around myself. Staring into the golden light, I intently listen to the salty water lap at my feet. The heavy winds burn my eyes, but that's not what was bringing the tears forward.

Why is the sky so blue today? Why do the birds still chirp? Why does the water still glisten? So many questions, all unanswered.

The sounds of the busy morning float by my ears; mountainous trucks moving through the district, threatening weapons being thrown around like toys, and intimidating men shuffling to their post.

Reaping day.

The very thought of it makes me shiver fiercely, though not for myself. This year, my brother has turned twelve. This year, he will have his name entered once in the bowl. This year, he may be taken away from me forever. And what would I be able to do? Nothing, that's what.

Shaking the thought from my head, I turn on my heels, the sand squishing between my toes. As I approach the town center, I quickly survey the familiar scene of the Capitol's annual invasion before sneaking past the infinite line of mindless peacekeepers and tip-toeing through my front door. Shutting it behind me, I see my mother sitting at the kitchen table, nervously tapping her fingers against the wooden table. Cautiously, I approach her, smoothly grasping her hand and gazing into her colorless eyes sadly.

I can see the pain behind them, the agonizing memories, the unshakable sight of watching my older sister die so horrifically in the Games. I don't remember Marina very clearly, the only remembrances I have of her being wavering and muddled. I hear she was remarkable, flawless even. The way people talk about her… I long to be like her when I'm older.

Following her death was the passing of my father. His heart attack was unexpected, and though I was still quite young, I can easily put myself back into the shoes of my seven year-old self and feel the raw pain of it all.

Times were tough. My mother slipped in and out of consciousness, only spending about an hour or two really with us throughout a week. Arian and I were practically on our own. I got a job weaving nets and piecing together jewelry, anything that would help support our broken family. He spent his time out of school, ankle-deep in the seawater, spear-fishing. What a sweet kid.

The sound of soft steps padding into the kitchen shook me from my thoughts. I looked up and smiled, eyeing my brother's ocean blue, button up shirt and khaki shorts. He left the top half of his shirt open, flaunting his young, developing chest. The thought of him "working out" brought a giggle to my lips.

"Hey Ar," I cooed, crouching down to his level. "Well, don't you just look handsome! But, I think you forgot a few buttons there, bud." I began buttoning his shirt until he playfully swatted my hand away, an adorable little smile lighting up his face.

"I'm going for the Odair look," he retorted, ripping his shirt back open. "He's going to be there today, did you know that? I could reach up, and he'd be there!" He gazed up at me with his elated eyes, knowing his idol would be within a yard of him.

The words took the smile from my face. It just brought back my terror that he would be reaped and my family would truly be irreparable. Hoping he hadn't noticed my silence, I forced a smile on my face and poked his stomach, evoking a laugh from him. "Yeah bud, just like he's there every year. I'm, uh, glad that makes you so… happy." I reply uncertainly. Happiness and the games don't really mix very well.

"Well, of course! Now come on Annie, get yourself some shoes and let's go! We can't be late!"

Nodding my head gently, I slip on some sandals and grab my mother's hand, gently tugging her along with us. We begin our trek to the town center where a large group of wide eyed children stumble their way to their respective areas. I let my mother wander to wherever she likes before turning to Arian. Ruffling his wind-blown air, I plaster a grin to my face and push him to his spot with the twelve year-old boys.

I crease my eyebrows in worry before standing with my school friends and the other seventeen year-old girls. It is now that I realize my name is in there twenty-five times, four extra for the bags of grain and year supply of oil. I let the true extent of my fear hit me, making me light-headed and almost as far gone as my mother. It is overwhelming and awful and just too much.

I hear Panem's anthem being played throughout the district as the same video that is shown every year is projected onto a big screen above all of our heads. I feel myself being drowned in intense boredom. If they are going to voice their thoughts about the war every year, the least they could do is mix up the movie selection. I know the clip by heart and I mumble the words along under my breath. The last notes of the song hang in the air for a second before we are suspended in an eerie stillness.

High heels click along the stage, and suddenly, the sound of Ambrosia Vita's high, Capitol voice brakes the piercing silence in District 4. "Oh, I just love that... Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" I can't move my stare from her ocean blue wig as she trots over to the female bowl, her heels clicking against the stage of the Justice Building. Her long fingers dip into the large bowl, picking one and pulling it out excruciatingly slow. Unfolding it, she let her eyes settle upon the chosen child and her lips curved up into a sickeningly sweet smile.

And the world was silent as I heard my name filling the stillness.

I slowly lift my head to be met with a hundred eyes, though all I can focus on is the look of pure horror on Arian's face. Silent tears streak down my face as I stare at him, knowing the pain he is enduring right now is beyond words. I am sure he expected a lot out of this Reaping, but this was not one of them. I'm not sure if I expected it either.

"Well, Miss Annie, come on." I can see Ambrosia motioning for me to join her on stage, and before I realize it, my feet are slowly dragging me to there. I take my place by her side, looking nowhere but my poor baby brother, whose eyes are wide and red-rimmed. She asks for volunteers, but the square remains silent. Well, thanks guys.

"And now for the male tribute who will be representing District 4…" I can hear our brightly colored escort making her way to the opposite glass bowl, but I can't manage to understand anything. The world is spinning too fast and I feel like I'm losing my balance. I can feel eyes on me from all sides, but I'm too consumed by my fear to be bothered. Shifting my eyes to Ambrosia, I see her mouthing words into the microphone, but I don't understand them. Could they be right? How could she possibly be saying Arian's name? My eyebrows scrunch together as a painful throb begins in my temple. My head feels heavy and I don't know what to think.

Looking at him, I can't find my voice as he separates himself from the crowd and slowly walks towards me. Step by step, he makes his way up the stairs, and with each one, I feel my throat close up a little more. I am choking; I am going to suffocate before the Games even begin. My eyes are wide and fearful as he stands a foot away from me. He's close enough to touch, but I can't seem to move at all. "How delightful, Annie Cresta and Arian Cresta… Would I be wrong in assuming that you two are siblings?"

I turn to look at her, the disgust evident on my face. The hatred flows through my veins and I finally find my voice. "Yes, we are-"

"I volunteer!"

I look into the audience, eyes wide and hopeful, looking for the boy who interrupted me. Scanning the crowd, my eyes finally settle upon one tall, light-haired boy. Or would he be labeled as a man? Whatever he may be, he's just... my savior; Arian's savior; our savior. Kai Brooks, the eighteen year-old boy who had been sauntering after me since the second grade. The one who gave me a band-aid when I scraped my knee in third grade. The one who left a single rose on my desk on Valentines Day in eighth grade. The one who I gave a kiss on the cheek last summer when he gave me a ride home. "I volunteer as the male tribute!"

After careful consideration, I realize this is a miracle and by then I'm choking up as he strides up to the stage to replace Arian in his spot. Patting my brother on the back, he directs him towards the stairs. I let out a shaky breath, panting in relief as I see him standing back with his friends. I can see the unmasked relief in his eyes too.

"Oh, District 4 has a volunteer! I think this deserves some applause, doesn't it?" Our personal Capitol clown begins clapping her hands alone, oblivious to the obvious resentment of the people. I almost feel bad for her; curse my instinctive kindness.

There is silence as everyone presses three fingers to their lips and raises them in the air, praising Kai for his heroic action. Though confused as to why he did it, I turn to him and mouth a sincere "thank you." He gives me a smile that I can only describe as sweet - or flirtatious; it feels so out of place in the serious environment.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your District 4 tributes! Shake hands you two." Ambrosia takes a step backwards, a giddy smile on her face as we do as told. My palms are clammy as press my fingers to Kai's before sadly turning to enter the Justice Building.

I let my tears drop to the ground. I love you guys so much.

I'm raking my hands up and down the velvet couch, feeling the silky softness under my fingertips. My feet are rhythmically tapping on the wooden floor, in direct correspondence with my elevated heartbeat. I feel a trickle of sweat run along my temple, feeling its way to my chin, and then carelessly dripping onto the wooden floor. My back is tense and I can feel the fear, confusion, anger, hatred, love and sadness coursing through my veins. My vision is blurring and the room appears to be spinning. What has happened to me?

The sound of a door creaking open pulls me out of my thoughts and to the absolutely heartbroken looks on my mother and brother's faces. I can feel the anxiety radiating off of them, effectively penetrating the hard mask I put on. I finally brake down into a fit of gut-wrenching sobs, hunching over and letting the wave of anguish wash over me. They join me on the couch and we all just hold each other, letting our cries of pain and despair fill the silence.

After wasting four of my total visitor minutes, Arian speaks up. At first he is just mumbling on and on about the most random things, but as I piece the small segments together, I realize he is spouting on about Finnick Odair. He's talking about tridents and fishing and nets and traps and the Capitol, and it's hard to keep up with it all, but somehow I do. Somehow, I know exactly what needs from me. He grasps my hands and tells me that he needs a genuine effort from me; he needs me to try and win and come home and walk him to school in the morning. He needs me to help him pack his lunch and comb his hair and smooth out his shirts. It is now that I realize how much he needs me and how much I need him. He says something along the lines of, "have him teach you, make him teach you," and I have to guess that "him" means him. Hesitantly, he nods and retracts away from me, retreating into his mind. Accepting this, I turn to my mother and see that she's on the verge of disappearing on me, maybe permanently. I grab her face and look at her closely.

"Are you looking at me? Right here mom, this world, right now." I'm trying to be nice, but this is too important for me to let it just slip off her brain. I need her to understand. I need her there.

Shakily, she nods.

"Alright good," I answer curtly, letting go of her face in favor of her hands. "You need to be there for him, okay? He needs you there, and you need to be there. Nod if you understand me."

Nod.

With this, I pull her in tightly, whispering how much I love her in her ear, feeling the tears push themselves forward once again. I blink them away and pull Arian into our embrace. We sit like this for what seems like forever before the doors are roughly forced open and my family is taken away from me. Forever.