[A/N]: This is a very domestic modern AU in everything but name. Though it's technically in the same world as canon, it's set in a country that coincidentally just *happens* to resemble the 1990s America I grew up in. If that's not your cup of tea, part 6 can safely be skipped (the only part that can), and part 7 resumes the fight in Panem with Finnick and Johanna.

But if you love Annie and Cashmere, and all you ever wanted was to see them get therapy and a happily ever after, THIS STORY IS FOR YOU.

"Name?" The efficient, heavily accented voice comes impersonally from across the other side of the counter.

She swallows. "Annie Cresta." At least the questions are simple enough that she's not having trouble understanding them so far. Not like yesterday.

The immigrations official writes that down, checking the spelling as she goes.

"Date of birth?"

"Three nones December. Oh, and I was born in the Fifty-Third Year of Peace."

The official looks up in confusion, her flow broken. "Do you have a different calendar in Panem?"

"Oh, I guess you wouldn't count from the reforms after the first revolution." Annie feels silly. Ayre is a different country with a different history. "It's Seventy-Seven there now. The new year starts in the fall, on Reaping Day."

The official shakes her head. "Tell me how old you are in years, months, and days, and I'll count backward."

It's hard to think under pressure, when your whole future is riding on being accepted in this new country. Hanging onto Cashmere's hand, she closes her eyes and does the math as fast as she can. "Twenty-three years, and eight months, and...I don't know, I've been traveling and hiding! I've lost track of the days." Annie starts to panic. She didn't know it would be important to keep track of anything as trivial as that.

But the official is calmly counting on her fingers and writing. "Just tell me how many days after the first of December, and I'll put that down."

"Days after the first? Well, it's three days before the none-"

"The ninth? So I'll put six. Done." The questions continue, and Annie breathes. She dodged that bullet somehow. She's not entirely sure it's right, but if this woman doesn't seem too concerned about having it perfect, maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe as part of her new life she can have a new birthday.

Then it's Cashmere's turn. "Name?"

"Cashmere." She has to spell it, and Annie can feel the flicker of Cashmere's fingers in her palm as she counts. "And I'm thirty-six-"

"Before that," the official interrupts, "I'll need your last name."

"Last name?" Cashmere looks back and forth between the counter and Annie.

"I'm sorry, was 'Cashmere' your first name or last? I need to put down one of each."

"My only name." Now Cashmere is distressed. "We only have one in my district. There are rules."

Annie, who was Annie C in school to distinguish her from the other Annie in her class, had been surprised by this too. But she didn't expect it to be a problem when they showed up in another country. If it's only their their first full day here, and it's already this hard, she doesn't know how they're ever going to make it.

"I can't enter the country unless I have two names?"

"Cresta," Annie blurts out. "Her last name is Cresta."

She holds her breath, but the official writes it down obligingly. While the questions and answers fly back and forth, Annie leans forward a little against the counter and strains at the upside down form.

Right there, in black and white, it says Cashmere Cresta. Annie starts to smile.

Later, after being escorted to their new living facilities, Annie and Cashmere lie on their assigned bed and hug each other tight, shaking. It's just one wall honeycombed with niches, each containing a bed with a ladder beside it and a couple feet of space above it, barely enough room to sit up, but it's the first time they've been able to sleep inside their new country. Last night, they were technically on the soil of Ayre, but still awaiting official admittance.

"I wasn't expecting the questions to be so hard!" Annie says, laughing a little now that it's over.

"I didn't think they were going to let us in."

Annie shudders and tries not to let her imagination dwell on thoughts of being refused and forced to go back to Panem, or try to find yet another country without even the glimmer of knowledge they have about this one. They're here, and she has to focus on the future.

When they've rested and gotten the shakes out of their systems, Annie has to gear herself up for yet another encounter with yet another stranger.

Following the directions they got, and deciphering the signs, they make it down to the information desk.

"Welcome to Ayre," the woman working it says, with a bright smile. "Your first time here?"

Annie nods. Then she tugs on Cashmere's hand and urges her forward. Having her hovering over her shoulder is like signing up for tesserae at the Justice Building, with her aunt explaining that yes, they really did want that many. Twelve-year-old Annie just nodded her consent mutely, aware that she'd been taking food out of her family's mouths all those years.

"How can I help you?"

Annie slides a piece of paper across the desk. "I have the contact info of someone who lives here. We're hoping he'll let us stay with him while we work things out."

The woman looks at them in consternation. "Oh, my, you don't have a place to stay already arranged? You know the beds here are only for one night, right?"

Annie's heart sinks.

"Yes, they're only for resting a few hours before switching to local transportation. After tonight, you'll need to pay for a room. Some houses, especially outside the city, rent rooms quite cheaply," she says encouragingly.

"We don't have any money," Annie whispers. It's okay, she tries to tell herself, living on the streets is better than the arena. She doesn't want to break the law on her first night in the country, but they're good at hiding, and they can find food.

But it's so much like the arena that her vision greys and her ears buzz, and she comes back to herself to realize she missed something. She concentrates and the woman repeats herself, slowly and clearly.

"How did you end up here? Where are you from?"

So Annie tells their story, getting free passage on an empty ship from District Thirteen back to its home port in Ayre, from which it had carried humanitarian aid to Panem. The crew was able to enter straightaway, but she and Cashmere had no identification, so they got separated and escorted into a detention area. After a lot of explaining and Annie reliving her time in the arena, out loud for once, giving all the details and showing the various proofs they'd picked up in Thirteen, they got processed as refugees.

Now they're here, sleep-deprived and emotionally exhausted, struggling to understand the language, with Annie still terrified of being captured and killed, and Cashmere increasingly convinced by the minute that she's too stupid to navigate this world. Somehow, they have to find a roof and a way of earning some money. In a way, it was easier traveling cross-country, because even if they were hungry, hunted and cold, Annie was used to it, and it was Cashmere's comfort zone.

"Oh, my. Well, why don't we try calling him, and if he agrees to pick you up, then everything's solved."

The woman slides a phone across the desk toward them, and waits expectantly. Annie stares at it, knowing how Cashmere feels. It looks like a phone, but the numbers are arranged differently, and she doesn't see buttons. Tentatively, she puts her index finger in one of the holes over a number and presses, but nothing happens.

She glances up at Cashmere, who shakes her head minutely.

"Oh, here, I'll help." The woman half turns the phone toward herself and efficiently turns the dial.

While it rings, Cashmere takes half a step closer to Annie, so that her leg is pressed against Annie's. Annie silently thanks her for the support.

The man she's looking for doesn't answer, but finally someone does, and Annie's able to leave a message, with some assistance from the information desk on the address and instructions for getting there.

Then she turns back to the woman at the desk, with a What now? look. "They said the earliest he could come would be tomorrow."

The woman frowns. "Let me talk to my boss, see about letting you stay an extra night. It's not every day we get refugees, and we're not exactly overcrowded."

She talks on the phone, then says, "It'll be a while, my boss isn't in charge of lodging either. Why don't you have a seat over there? There's a vending machine—no money? None at all, or just-"

Annie shakes her head. "No money." They have some food in their bags, but it looks like it may have to last longer than expected.

The woman purses her lips, like this could have been better organized, then stands up and fetches them each a bag of nuts from down the hall, paid for out of her own pocket. Annie accepts hers, blinking back tears. "Thank you."

"You just wait here, and we'll see what we can do."

Sitting on a padded bench by the wall, Annie and Cashmere wait in silence. Annie eats a couple of nuts to show her gratitude, but hoards the rest for later.

Eventually, some more officials come to talk to them. Annie explains the situation yet again. "We really are trying to find a place, we're not trying to cheat anyone out of anything, we just didn't know we wouldn't have more of a grace period than one night."

"And you couldn't have made better plans before you came here?"

Annie pulls out the wrinkled list she's shown so many times in the past two days that she's memorized it despite hating to look at it. "That's my name. That's her name. Those are the prices on our heads. They want to torture us if they can take us alive, kill us if not."

"They—your government?"

"Panem," Annie says. "The Capitol."

"Hmph." The uniformed woman looming over them looks at the man standing next to her. "I haven't heard anything good about Panem, that's for sure."

"A fair point," the man says, "but how do we know they're really who they claim to be?"

"Well, they're from somewhere. I couldn't fake that accent and broken speech."

"I don't know a Panem accent, do you?"

She shrugs. "No, but if that is where they're from, they wouldn't know how things work here any more than we know what they sound like, so that much holds together. And if they made it to this side of the gates, they must have been questioned."

Annie and Cashmere nod emphatically, still worn out from all the questioning.

"What ship did you say you came in on?"

"The Green Stars," Annie answers.

A lot of discussion later, and after outside confirmation that the Green Stars did in fact arrive yesterday from Panem, Annie and Cashmere are granted an exception. "As long as there's an empty bunk, you'll be permitted to stay while you make other arrangements, contingent on your good behavior."

"Thank you, thank you!" Annie could kiss them.

"We'll keep it very clean and be very quiet and leave as soon as we possibly can," Cashmere promises earnestly.

One of the men half smiles. "Good luck."

Two days later, they find themselves stepping out of a car and into an imposing building with a white marble facade. Their first excursion into the port city leaves Annie short of breath, reliving the Capitol, but she clings to Cashmere's hand in the elevator, telling herself that she just has to hold together long enough to meet Finnick's diplomatic contact and get him to help them.

At least he was kind enough to send a car for them when he learned they had no way of taking public transit, and he agreed to meet them in person.

His office gleams with leather and colored marble, and he rises from his massive mahogany desk to shake their hands.

"Well! Pleased to meet you. I'm Ambassador Frey. You're fortunate I was in Ayre this week. I spend a lot of time in Panem these days."

"District Thirteen?" Annie asks politely, automatically, while trying to pin down what's different about him. Then she realizes she's having an easier time understanding him than she has anyone here so far.

After shaking hands, he gestures at them to sit down opposite his desk. Annie and Cashmere automatically position themselves so that Cashmere's partly between her and the ambassador. Having a bodyguard is one of those little things that keeps Annie functioning through the fear.

Cashmere gives her best, eager-to-please smile, and Annie, who normally tries to reassure her that she doesn't have to appease everyone around her, says nothing, because so much is riding on this man's goodwill.

A flicker in the ambassador's eyes shows that he's not immune to the sex appeal of even a bedraggled Cashmere, and Annie's simultaneously grateful because maybe it will make this easier, and stressed because what if he wants more than a smile? Should she try to protect Cashmere at the possible cost of their position here? Finnick bought her safety all those years with his compliance, and the moment she learned that if he put one foot wrong, she'd no longer be allowed to skip Hunger Games appearances, the guilt consumed her and never really left.

Then she realizes he's talking, and zones in again.

"-communication before the war, and after the war, we started having in-person contact. You understand we can't directly get involved in combat, but we do recognize that your situation is, shall we say, unenviable."

"I met some of your colleagues in Thirteen," Cashmere tells him, still smiling. She's in full interview mode. "Finnick and I welcomed the first delegation to Panem in almost a hundred years."

"A historic moment," Ambassador Frey says admiringly. "I'm glad we can welcome you here now. I met Finnick sometime later. Quite a personable young man. I don't believe you were there on that occasion?" he asks Cashmere. "I'm sure I'd remember meeting you."

"I'd remember meeting you." Cashmere sounds for all the world sincere as she charms him. "I was regrettably detained in Panem at the time. This is my first time in Ayre. Finnick had nothing but good to say about Ayre, though, and we're hoping to make our home here now. He spoke well of you and said you might be able to help us with the transition."

Annie watches in amazement as Cashmere flawlessly adapts her script to the circumstances. "Regrettably detained" is a memorized phrase if there ever was one, but it flowed right off her lips like it was nothing.

"Yes, I do believe I remember him mentioning that his fiancée might want to come to Ayre." The ambassador smiles at Cashmere. "If it's not too personal a question, did you find time to get married in the hubbub of the war? You seem to have been very busy in the service of your country."

Cashmere's poise hasn't faltered yet, but she closes her mouth on her next syllable as soon as Annie speaks up.

"Um, that would be me." Cashmere and the ambassador both glance at Annie, and she could kick herself, because Cashmere could have handled this more gracefully, and maybe it's not even important to correct his misconception, as long as they get what they need.

It's only that as he talked, Annie could see the picture he was painting: two accomplished, talented diplomats working in tandem, and herself fading ever more into the background.

With barely a pause, he dips his head warmly at her. "Then I'll direct my question to you." The words are right, but she can read his surprise under the practiced diplomacy.

Annie flushes, because she knows she's no prize, but then her anger flares. Finnick was a prize, for many years, an object to be bought and sold and earned, and so was Cashmere. This man doesn't know how lucky she is, and not in the way he thinks.

"We did get married, yes." She tries to keep her voice level. "Cashmere came here with me. There's a price on her head too."

"You want to find a place together, then? Or separately?"

"Together," they answer in unison.

"Well, well. I'll see what I can do. I'm not in a position to house you myself, but one of my former neighbors hosts—or at least used to host—visiting students from other countries. It would be my pleasure to give her a ring. You're staying at the Border Clearance Center?"

Annie learns from history and lets Cashmere field this question.

"They've been so wonderfully accommodating of us without any notice." Cashmere beams. "They're letting us stay there until they get another request for the bed, but of course we don't know how long that will be."

She favors him with such a brave, grateful, and appealing look that he melts and Annie's left pursing her lips in a silent whistle. He may be a professional, but so is she.

"Is that so? I'll be sure to have my secretary give them a call and put in a good word for you."

"Oh, everyone has been so kind," Cashmere says with a hint of breathlessness, like she can hardly believe her good fortune. "I hope we haven't been too much trouble."

I need to get out of here before he realizes she's turning me on too! It's only a split-second thought, but it's a split-second break from the fear, and Annie represses a giggle.

He waves his hand dismissively. "It's nothing. I have no authority over them, of course, but I flatter myself I have a little influence. You'll have to forgive us for not being more prepared, in the mean time. We haven't had contact with a country in your situation for generations, and we simply don't have a system for processing refugees.

"I suspect that will change in the near future, but for the time being, the Border people spend more of their time looking for pests and blight. They keep a handful of beds and showers as a courtesy to travelers who might be having their shipments checked, or who've been traveling a long way. But we'll do what we can."

"Oh, no," croons Cashmere, "it's you who must forgive us. We were fleeing for our lives."

Annie thinks that if she had known it would be this complicated, she would have stayed in Thirteen and secured a place before arriving unannounced at a port of entry and placing herself at the mercy of a government that has no way of knowing what her intentions might be and has historically been reluctant to form too many outside ties. But at the time, getting as far away from Panem as quickly as possible was her only imperative.

"Well, we're delighted to have you and hope you have a much better experience here than in Panem. It's been a pleasure meeting you."

As soon as they're alone together again, Annie throws her arms around Cashmere and sobs her relief and fear out. "You were great, I couldn't have done that. You asked him to help extend our stay without even asking."

"Oh, Annie." Cashmere pats her hair on her back. "I don't know how anything works here, how to make a phone call or find my way around or anything. But getting someone in power to want to be nice to you without them realizing it, that's the same everywhere."

"You were perfect. I'm letting you do all the talking from now on."

Immediately, Cashmere stiffens. "But—I'm only good at the one thing-"

"Okay, I'm joking. You don't have to. But I got used to doing all the talking in District Three, and I'd forgotten how good you are in your comfort zone."

"I just want to help. What do you think this neighbor is like?"

"I don't know." Annie sighs and sinks down on the bed, her legs unable to support her weight any more. Her back aches with the clenching of the last few days. "We only need a place to stay while we find out what kind of work we can do here. If they don't want to kill us or hand us over to President Snow, I'm willing to live with pretty much anyone."

To their surprise, not one former neighbor but two show up at Border Clearance. Both are middle-aged women, one professionally coiffed, and the other with frazzled grey curls and a baggy sweater.

Annie doesn't really have anywhere of her own to receive them, so they meet in the hall by the information desk. She hates, hates, hates sitting here in a public space deciding her and Cashmere's future, but at least she's gotten used to this hallway, even learned the names of several employees working the desk.

"Nessa Rearden." She has a firm handshake and a perfect manicure.

"Raych Kells." She has inkstains on her fingertips. "Ryan Frey and I used to walk our dogs in the same park, believe it or not. I knew him when. And that dog was a terror, let me tell you. Tiny but fearless."

So far, they don't seem scary, but Annie's reserving judgment. She's heard President Snow can come across as quite harmless if he wants to. She lets Cashmere sit in front of her on the bench.

"Raych, focus," Nessa says with a small smile and a nudge. "So you're Cashmere and you're Annie? Which of you is looking for a host family? Annie, right?"

Cashmere sits frozen, not saying anything, so Annie answers. "Both of us?"

The two women glance at each other, an obvious Oh, dear, hanging in the air.

Annie knows that things have gone well for them so far, and eventually they may have to compromise. "But if you live close to each other and you can each only take one, then I guess we can make that work..."

But they're shaking their heads. "No, we live together," says Raych.

"We both came because taking in a new guest is a big decision."

"We host students every year, but only one at a time."

"I see." Annie looks at the floor by Cashmere's feet. "Well, if there's not enough food to go around, then I guess that's that. I don't want anyone to go hungry for me ever again." Bad enough that Cashmere does, but Cashmere's made it clear she's not going anywhere.

"Oh, food's not that expensive," Nessa says, pity coming over her face.

"It's just that the apartment's so small," Raych explains. "There's only the one extra bed, and it's only meant for one person."

"One bed is great!" Cashmere exclaims.

Annie nods enthusiastically. "The layover bed in this building is the only bed we've had for years, and it's not even ours. Until this week, we were sleeping on the floor in a closet, or in caves, or in the cargo hold of a ship."

"If you have a closet," Cashmere offers, "we can sleep there."

The two women are looking at each other like they can't believe their ears.

The pitiful approach seems to be working, so Annie dares, "Just please don't tell the Panem government where we're hiding."

"Oh, no," Raych sighs helplessly.

"Well, we weren't really expecting this, you know. We've never hosted two students—the placement agency wouldn't have authorized it for an apartment our size even if we'd wanted to—and Raych works from home, and we'd need at least a night to talk it over."

Nessa glances at her companion, who nods in confirmation. Annie swallows her disappointment and tries to smile gratefully, telling herself that a night to think it over at least isn't a door slammed in their face.

"We weren't even planning to host any refugees," Raych tells them. "We have a student lined up for this year—but then we heard your story and thought of course, we can cancel and the student can find somewhere else to go."

"The ambassador told us about the videos of the Hunger Games he'd seen." Nessa looks at Annie. "You poor girl."

"You too?" Raych asks Cashmere.

Cashmere nods, but she hesitates, and Annie realizes that Finnick wouldn't have shown any tapes of Cashmere's bloody finale. Probably these people will be as scared of Careers as she used to be.

So she thinks fast. "The Hunger Games were the worst thing that ever happened to me," Annie says with quiet dignity. "They weren't the worst thing that happened to her."

Nessa groans, and Raych tightens her lips. "We'll get back to you tomorrow, then. I know you won't want to be in limbo any longer than absolutely necessary."

"And if we can't," Nessa promises, "we'll contact the student placement agency and see if they know of anyone who can."

"What are we going to do if they don't take us in?" Cashmere whispers. They're lying side by side in bed, and Annie's drying her eyes and trying to stop shaking. She makes it through each day with Cashmere's help, and then every night is like this.

Annie shakes her head. She doesn't want to make plans to hide on the streets in a place that's surely bugged.

"We'll stick together," she promises.

"I can sell my body-" Cashmere begins, but Annie cuts her off.

"We're going to try everything we can before it comes to that. We've gotten a lot of information out of the help desk the last few days. We have other leads."

"Okay. But it's very easy in District One. The academy gives a lot of kids training even if they don't make it to the end, and a lot of them end up trading sex for what they need. No one ever said it was bad."

"It's not bad. I just don't want you to have to go through that again when it was so hard on you." Annie thinks there's got to be a way to do it like any other job, but what Cashmere and Finnick were put through wasn't it, and they're both still carrying scars. "Besides, I don't think I could let you out of my sight for that long. I'm sorry, but I'm still scared to death here, and if I have to be alone, I don't know if I can do it."

Cashmere hugs her. "I'm not going anywhere. Just tell me what you want me to do, then. I don't mind if it comes to that. I'm good at it. Maybe I can work at night while you're sleeping, and come back before you wake up."

"But I don't know how that'll work—what about curfew?"

"Curfew?"

"Where you have to be inside by eleven pm and you're not allowed to leave until the next morning? You didn't have that in One?"

"No," Cashmere says. "Or in the Capitol. As long as you followed the rules, you could move around any time you wanted to."

"Really?" Maybe it's okay here too. Maybe if she asks at the information desk about a curfew, she can find out what's legal without letting on that she might have to find somewhere to hide. She keeps forgetting it's different here. "But they still might take us in. And if not, they said they'd try to help find someone who will. It feels like we're not getting anywhere—we're still in this same building where they interrogated us on the first day—but everyone's been really helpful, considering we fell into their laps like this."

"You should tell Raych and Nessa you're a student—of physics and engineering," Cashmere suggests admiringly.

"Cashmere!" Annie giggles and elbows her, but it makes her feel better. If the smartest minds in District Three were able to find a use for her, she'll find something here.

The following day, they're not quite sure when the women are going to return, so as soon as they've had breakfast, trying not to see how low their supplies are getting, Annie and Cashmere go and wait on the bench in the corridor. They have nothing else to do, and Annie knows that she, for one, would go crazy waiting for hours in bed, wanting every moment to get up and check, worrying that they've missed their names being paged over the intercom.

At long last, in the early afternoon, Raych and Nessa arrive. They're smiling, but that could mean anything—could be an attempt to let them down gently.

Annie starts shaking, and folds her arms over her queasy stomach. She returns the smile, knowing with embarrassment that it's probably obvious to everyone how forced the smile is, but she can't get up and shake their hands.

Blessedly, Nessa comes straight to the point and doesn't keep them in suspense.

"Oh, girls. We couldn't say no."

Annie can't take it in right away. At first she hadn't imagined finding a place would be this difficult—her mind skimmed conveniently from "Finnick has a contact" to "everything will be fine," without lingering on the details between—but once day after day passed with phone calls, visits, and persuasive speeches, she got into the habit of thinking it would never end.

Cashmere thanks them politely, if a little numbly, but Annie starts crying, and the more she tries to stop, the harder she cries.

"You can come home in the car with us as soon as you like," Raych says, "today if you want." She looks uncomfortable but understanding.

"Unless you have any other details that need settling," Nessa adds, "or a better lead for a place to stay-"

"No! No!" Annie and Cashmere get immediately to their feet. "Thank you so much, I'm sure it will be wonderful." They look around, ready to go.

Nessa is nonplussed. "Surely you at least have questions for us first? We've been vetted by the international student placement agency, so we're perfectly safe to live with. We have the paperwork with us if you want to see-"

Raych looks from Cashmere to Annie and says wisely, "Given their history, this is probably the least risky thing they've had to do recently. Let's get them home, fed, and rested. There'll be time to get to know each other later."

"I only have one question," Annie says. "You're absolutely sure there's enough food for all four of us? Because I've been there before, and I couldn't stand it again."

"There's enough," Nessa promises gently. "I have the feeling that food is harder to come by where you come from. It'll be fine. Let's go home."

Annie's still worried—if not food, then she's surely taking something important away from them—but she feels a bit better when they guide her and Cashmere to a car, and they're casual about it. She associates cars with the Capitol, and while the memory makes her a bit nauseated, she tries translating it into terms familiar to her. Maybe this is like owning your own boat.

Raych invites them to brush the clutter off the backseat and make themselves at home. "It'll be about an hour and a half, but everything's waiting for you once we get there."

Cashmere talks cheerfully to them through the whole ride, and Annie leans her head against Cashmere's side and tries not to be sick. It's not the Capitol. They're not taking you anywhere you don't want to go. Close your eyes and think of it as a boat. They have their own boat and lots of food and everything's going to be okay. And if anything goes wrong, Cashmere will handle it.

Annie can barely keep track of what everyone else is talking about, but a few minutes in, she opens her eyes and looks at Cashmere in surprise. I thought you couldn't do small talk. I thought you had no experience with normal social interactions.

Then she realizes that Cashmere is just encouraging them and making appreciative sounds at everything they say. She's not letting them get to know her, just making sure they're pleased with her. This is every lesson in socialization she ever had. Every party, every politician, every lover.

Annie wants to rescue her, turn this into a real conversation, but she can't. She's got her eyes squeezed shut, her ears blocked, and is desperately imagining herself on a boat. Later. She'll get to know them later.

It gets her through the endless ride, until at last the car comes to a halt and the vibrations stop.

"Home sweet home," Nessa announces, and pulls out the keys. Annie reluctantly opens her eyes.

Home turns out to be a large apartment building with many units. Annie nods to herself: this is what she grew up in. One room, a stove, and a shared toilet down the hall.

But an elevator takes them to the third floor, and that's already different. Like the car, it makes her feel better and worse.

Cashmere's got her arm locked around Annie's shoulders, and Annie's grateful for many reasons, but not least because it means she can close her eyes when it becomes too much.

"I'm sorry," Raych says, glancing at her as they emerge, "do you not like elevators? I should have asked."

Annie just shakes her head. She knows she should be more polite, but her ability to cope now that they're out of immediate danger is shutting down, even past fears that the women will decide they don't like these ungrateful refugees and don't want to take them in after all. She should have been nicer to Mags at first too—but she couldn't.

Cashmere's on autopilot, smiling and complimenting everything smoothly as Raych unlocks the door and lets them in, but Annie stops short.

Furniture, everywhere. Shelves, rugs, books. Curtains, lamps, knickknacks. She looks around, barely able to process the luxury.

Their hosts start guiding them through it, and somewhat stunned, Annie follows. Rooms and more rooms! A living room, a kitchen big enough to hold a table and chairs, a closed door—Annie misses in her shock what it leads to—a bedroom, another bedroom! And a bathroom. Maybe it's not as big as her house in the Victors' Village, but it's every bit as luxurious.

"This is your bedroom," Raych says, stepping into the last room. "Over there is the bathroom you'll use, along with any guests who come over. Ness and I have our own bathroom adjoining our bedroom."

"We did the best we could yesterday," Nessa apologizes, "but we weren't expecting to host anyone for another month. We'll pick up a few more items while we're out today and tomorrow."

"I don't think there's quite enough room for a larger bed," Raych frets. "Unless maybe we moved the desk-"

"But then it would block the closet," Nessa points out.

"It's wonderful," Cashmere says, "very lovely. I'm sure we'll be very comfortable here."

So is Annie. Not only is there a bed, it's a proper bed with a mattress and two white pillows and a quilted bedspread. She's so glad it's a quilt; it reminds her of the ones Finnick brought her, long ago. She was starting to forget beds existed.

There's a desk made of light wood, and a single matching wooden chair.

"You can put your clothes in here-" Raych gestures toward the closet, "and your belongings here." More light wooden shelves above the head of the bed and above the desk. "The window looks out onto the courtyard. Not the best view, but at least there's plenty of green."

"Sweetie," Nessa points out, repressing a smile, "I don't think they moved here for the view."

"I know, I'm being silly. What about clothes? Do you have clothes, do you need more, what's your situation?"

"We have one change each in our bags," Annie tells them. "We have a needle and scissors and thread too, but if you have any extra buttons..." They've lost a few along the way.

"Oh, dear, no," Nessa says, "we can buy you a new set or two of clothes. You've been wearing those for how long?" She seems to consider that a rhetorical question, for she continues without a pause, "Now that you're here, we can take you out and get you a new wardrobe. Nothing fancy, but clean and decent."

New clothes? Annie's about to panic, but she remembers Mags bringing her what she needed. Some people really do have more money than they need, and for a few brief years, Annie was even one of them.

"Let the girls get some sleep first," Raych suggests. "We can go shopping tomorrow. The kitchen is yours to raid any time you like, and at least one of us will be around for the rest of the day if you have any questions."

"And house rules," Nessa begins, "...no, those can wait too. Get some rest."

Cashmere's instantly alert. "No, I want to know the rules."

Annie nods.

"Oh, not much, really. We're a couple of fuddy-duddy old ladies, so we like it quiet after ten. Let us know before you invite guests over."

"If my study door is closed," Raych says, "don't knock unless it's really important. Otherwise, come on in."

"No alcohol. We usually have dinner in the kitchen around six, and you're welcome to join us, or not. The kitchen's always open, but do please clean up after yourselves in the common areas. Your room is your own business."

"And that's enough for now," Raych decides. "We can show you where to do your laundry and how to operate the coffeemaker later. Settle in at your own pace and let us know if you run into anything where you need to know how it works. You look exhausted."

Annie's leaning against the wall, and even under Cashmere's mask the weariness is evident.

Another round of thank yous and reassurances, and they're finally, finally alone.

Annie sits down on the bed, so overcome she doesn't even know where to start.

Cashmere sits beside her. "I guess we're safe now?"

"I guess," Annie says. It doesn't feel real yet.

Slowly, she takes off her fur coat. She's aware everything she owns looks and smells like it's been traveled in for months, despite her best efforts to wash them in creeks and sinks, but the coat is the one thing she's refused to let out of her reach since that fateful day in District Three. It's a poor substitute for Finnick's arms around her and a chest to rest her head on, secure in the knowledge that he's taking care of everything, but it's all she's got of District Four now. Cashmere has nothing from One.

Her body feels too heavy to move, so she lets Cashmere carry the coat to the closet, while she stares at the quilt. Red, grey, and white stars and hexagons. It's a good room. Only a bit bigger than their hiding place in Three, but a lot nicer. If she ever felt safe anywhere, she thinks she could feel safe here.

"Is that all?" Cashmere looks at Annie, hesitant, awaiting further instruction.

Annie shrugs. She isn't quite ready to go to sleep either. It's hard to relax in a new place, and a permanent new place instead of a temporary one presents all new challenges, like keeping their hosts happy, learning how things work here, and getting on their feet.

"What's it like outside the window?" she asks.

Cashmere obligingly crawls over the bed and kneels on it to see out. "You can see the other side of the apartment complex. It's a big, four-sided brick building with a green lawn and some hedges in the middle. There are lampposts. I can see two people walking across the courtyard."

"And we're on the third floor?" Annie would prefer being at ground level, so she can escape if she needs to, after what happened that night Rudder had to carry her out, and Grace's place was raided.

Cashmere opens the window and sticks her head out for a few seconds. "I can see a fire escape down the hall. To our right, about...six windows down."

"And if we have to evacuate in the middle of the night..."

"I can find the way," Cashmere says confidently.

"Okay." Annie pulls the bedspread down and slides under it. She feels bad for sleeping in her dirty clothes in this nice clean bed, but tomorrow she's going to learn how to do laundry.

Cashmere joins her. It's a bit of a squeeze, but Annie turns on her side with her back to the wall, and Cashmere presses close, and this is as comfortable as Annie's been since her house was burned down.