Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a small oneshot. A SMALL. ONESHOT. AND THEN IT GREW INTO THIS.


PSYCHOGENIC


"I don't know you. I don't know you."

When Finnick looks to the girl in the middle of her home, he furrows his eyebrows. How can she not know him? So he tries again, taking small steps towards her as she sits in the middle of the room, "Of course you know me. Don't be silly. Remember the rehearsals and the training? The Reaping? Sometimes I give you some of my catches..."

She manages to throw a vase at him. It soars strongly through the air, but the aim is terribly off. It shatters against the wall behind him in an explosion of white. He gets the message, though, and stops where he is. She shouts at him again to get out and leave her alone, but he can't do that.

Her voice has gotten Mags' attention from across the Victor's Village. She hobbles into the room, her cane in hand, and observes the situation. Finnick looks to her for support. She gingerly points at the poor girl and then out the door; so he speaks again, "Annie, come on now –"

"Annie?" she sobs, curling up, "Who's Annie? Why are you both here? Get out!"

"It's the day of the Victory Tour. Your stylists will be here soon and so will the cameras. You gotta be prepared."

Annie does stand, but she starts screaming at them both. She finds enough hidden strength within herself to push Finnick away repeatedly, even though he'd made no further advances. Mags mumbles something, surprised, and manages to inch back out the front door and to the side as Finnick is pushed again. Annie is hysterical. Some of the other victors even briefly look out from their windows. They're different – they were volunteers, happy.

The things she screams make them both frown. Questions, mainly, like who's Annie, why is she here, what is this place, who are they and why are they here; and of course I don't know you. The same phrases over and over until the medics come from the main town. Finnick tries again to calm her down, but she punches him in the jaw instead.

The medics rush by him and grab Annie. He can tell that her arms will be bruised. She continues to scream and even manages to push a few of them off her before she runs back into her home. Finnick and Mags helplessly enter again, feeling their insides turn.

One man finally has her on the ground. He has a needle and is trying to get it into her neck. He knows it's a sedative – he can tell by the colour in the glass casing that it's different to the stronger morphling, as he's seen it before during the Games. On victors, on tributes, only to relax, not knock out. It's not uncommon, but what is different is the sheer fight he sees in Annie.

Finnick shouts, "Don't hurt her!"

They don't. The needle sinks into her skin, and the effect is almost instant. Her voice rings clear just before she unexpectedly slips into unconsciousness.

"I don't know you!"


"It's not... unheard of for Victors to suffer from amnesia," one doctor says.

Mags, alive with anger, somehow manages to gather up enough strength in her voice to speak clearly, though quietly, "And all of you never do anything about it."

They have been in the Capitol for a few days. The Capitol can't have their most recent Victor being so sick on the Victory Tour. It's been postponed, and there are revisions for tighter control and restrictions on where she goes, what she says and what she does. Finnick hears a lot of what the people around him are saying, but all he can do is look at her lying there on a bed, metres away.

It's been five years since his Hunger Games. He's lost every single tribute – his own, or ones he tried to befriend that belonged to others, like Mags' - that walked through those doors except for Annie Cresta. He'd felt a sense of pride when he watched her not kill a single tribute; but he'd also felt fear because no one cared for a bloodless tribute. She's only here because she was lucky. She only survived to this point because he'd begged sponsors for their help.

Anything. Anything.

Anything, to the Capitol, meant him. And as he'd done for the past few years to protect those he loved, he conceded, being used and held for a night just so Annie would receive a jacket or some food.

As he watches Annie stir slightly, he wonders what else he has to do to stop her from suffering like others did. To stop her from being unable to concentrate on anything, like Woof from District Eight. To keep her away from morphling addiction, like the pair from District Six; and away from alcohol, like Chaff from Eleven and Haymitch from Twelve.

It's not that Annie is special. He's sure that she is in some way, but he can't see it because he doesn't really know her. All he sees is another human being who was unfortunate enough to become a tribute. She didn't volunteer, and no one wanted to take her place. And at this point, he couldn't stand watching people he knew die anymore, even if he wasn't their mentor. It'd been too late to save the boy – he'd been beheaded within hours after leaving the Cornucopia with Annie.

He just wants to help.

Annie bolts upright, shrieking. Finnick crosses the distance just as she covers her ears and rocks back and forth slightly. She even drags her nails down her face, leaving red marks. He grips her wrists and tries to pull them away, but she doesn't budge. He eventually thinks that she must be in the arena again, in her mind.

The doctor comes, scribbling down notes onto his paper and ready to sedate her, but Finnick tells him to leave it. Sedating can't be the answer to everything. The doctor scoffs at him but backs off anyhow, intrigued to see how the events pan out from here. In the end Finnick's right, because she stops rocking, places her hands in her lap, and looks up at him as calmly as the day he met her, "Hello Finnick."

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Why am I in the Capitol?"

He hesitates, "You don't remember anything?"

Annie says the last thing she remembers is getting out of bed to get ready for the Victory Tour. She tries to recall anything after putting her clothes on, but nothing comes to mind. She furrows her eyebrows, confused, and looks down to her hands, "It's a big blank. I'm sorry."

Mags is beside him now, reaching out to clasp both of Annie's hands with one of her own. She squeezes them tightly and offers her a sympathetic smile. Mags then looks at Finnick, who puts his own hand atop the growing pile. They'll get through this. The pain, the memories and what's to come.


Finnick keeps a much closer eye on Annie during her Victory Tour.

She seems okay in Twelve and Eleven. In District Ten, she only just manages to get out the rest of her dull speech before she begins to stare into space. Never at the dead tributes' families, and not even at the crowd. Just in the air, as though she's trying to take herself away from where she is or bring something back.

Finnick has to walk out onto the stage and lead her away by her arm, back into District Ten's Justice Building. Her team fusses over her appearance again, commenting on how her hair just won't sit still and that they'd need some kind of spray to make sure it doesn't move again. Annie's escort starts to berate her for this sudden mental shutdown, but when she realises that Annie's not even listening, she leaves. Mags just looks at her, clearly concerned that she'll suddenly forget who they are once more.

But Annie does come back, bright-eyed and confused as she looks around. She's about to turn and go back outside before Finnick catches her arm. Mags shakes her head, and Annie seems to understand a little better then, "I'm done with my speech?" A nod, "Okay... Okay."

Districts Nine, Eight and Seven don't care for what she has to say, and it's understandable. No one wants to hear what a Victor has to say because it's been said before. Thank you for your tributes. The Capitol is grand. How lucky it feels to be alive and the pride it brings. It never sits right with the people, but it's something that can't be avoided.

In Six she phases out again, but it's for a much shorter period of time. Finnick smirks when she disguises it as a pause for the dead. When they're back inside, he's pulled aside to receive some information on a particular client he's to see when he returns to the Capitol; and when he looks back at Annie, he sees the morphlings approaching.

They look worse every time he sees them. Their faces are sunken and their teeth are yellowing. He pities them because they're almost like they are forgotten Victors; but he feels anger thrum through his veins when he sees the male offer Annie some morphling. Something she should never have like they do.

"It helps to numb the pain," he says, gingerly placing it in Annie's small hands.

His eyes are kind and he means well, but Finnick is ready to march over there and knock the vial and needle to the ground. He doesn't have to, though, because Mags, who has a deep frown on her face, beats him to it. The items shatter as they hit the tiles, snapping him back into a sense of place.

"The Minister of Education has requested your services after the Capitol party stop," the man growls, stuffing a small card into his hands, "It's advised that you're on time. She's a hard woman to please."

Finnick merely nods. The messenger leaves, and he returns to Mags and Annie. They're all ushered away to another dinner.


As they approach District Five, Finnick notes again that Annie's covering her ears and is rocking back and forth a little. Mags has put both her hands on Annie's shoulders, trying to shake her out of it, trying to stop her. Her escort keeps proclaiming that it's an act before muttering about something else.

Annie's stylist is yelling that they need to get a move on, and it's that that makes Finnick snap, saying, "You don't have anything to worry about except making sure she looks good. You don't have to relive your bad dreams. How about you go and plan her outfits for the coming districts instead of making things worse?"

"Who are you?"

Finnick's blood runs cold.

He turns and finds Annie openly staring at Mags. She then jumps from her seat and looks around, spotting him, "You again? I thought I told you I don't know you."

"Annie, Annie, please," Mags begs softly.

Unlike last time, she doesn't explode. She looks back to Mags and frowns, confused, "I don't know who I am. Am I Annie? Is that my name?"

Mags nods and places her hand over Annie's chest, "Annie."

Then the usual questions come – where, why, and so on. Finnick knows that it's an effort for Mags' to speak, and she's never been very loud, but he watches as she manages to explain to Annie what's happening around her. Annie vehemently states that she can't remember anything, but Mags mentions that that's okay. She doesn't have to.

"When this train stops, all you have to do is go outside and read from some cards that'll be given to you," Finnick says, "Then you can come back and we can all talk some more. Okay?"

Annie agrees. Mags drapes her green scarf over the girl's shoulders, spreading it across most of her outfit, and leads her to the train's exit. Finnick follows. Annie complains that the floor always feels like it's moving, and it makes her feel like throwing up.

How can she forget like this?

Contrary to what he had said, they don't talk when she gets back, though she read well today. Annie's too tired to and instead does as she's told – eat, change clothes and so on – and then sleep. She doesn't remember anything through District Three, though she remains more complacent than she had been compared to the previous incident. It's when they are travelling to Two during the night does her memory come back. She's screaming the boy's name, no doubt watching him get beheaded again. She once told Finnick that that was her main nightmare. When she doesn't remember, she doesn't have nightmares.

"You're okay, Annie," Finnick tries. His hands are around her wrists again, "You're safe."

"Are we in District Five?" she asks, trembling.

"We're heading to Two. We've already been to Five and Three. Don't you remember?"

As she pulls her wrists from his hands, Annie's lovely face scrunches up when she realises that she can't remember anything. Finnick describes both places to her a little, hoping to jog her memories, but it doesn't happen. This only upsets her more. She asks Finnick to leave, so he does, not seeing her again until just before she has to walk out to the crowd. He chooses not to notify medical personnel of the lapse.


District One makes him angry.

There are people yelling that she shouldn't have lived. That she brought shame to her district because she didn't kill a single person. That she wasn't even entertaining to watch. Even though Finnick's from a Career district too, he and a noticeable number from Four have never seen the Games like One and Two do. At least Two had the sense to keep quiet.

Annie's crumbling under the accusations. She eventually drops her cards, shuts her eyes and covers her ears. The roars of the people must remind her of the beasts – human or otherwise – in the arena. Of the tidal wave that killed everyone but her, even though she'd ingested a large amount of water just from trying to stay alive. Maybe even the cannons.

When Finnick and Mags walk out to meet Annie, the people in One go quiet at the mere sight of him. And he knows why. Because unlike Annie, he killed. Because unlike Annie, he had no delusions about what he had to do to survive. Because unlike Annie, who had tried to make friends in the arena, he knew that no one was to be trusted except for himself.

Because to them, he is one of them.

Mags leads Annie back into the Justice Building, but Finnick can't find enough strength in his feet to follow. He instead glares down at the populace, and when they slowly slink away and return to their jobs, he realises that he is not as powerless as he once believed. The Capitol did not take away his strength.

"Finnick," Annie calls.

And that's enough to bring him back inside.

"We're going home now, right?" Annie asks.

"And then the Capitol," Finnick clarifies. The trip's not over yet, but it almost is.

That night she is the one who wakes him from one of his own nightmares. He dreams about people flailing in his net and the ease in which he drove his trident into their flesh. It's rare that he ever shouts during his own nightmares – he usually just wakes silently – but Annie does mention he'd been vocal. Her hands are soft, he surmises, as they run through his bronze hair. Annie tells him that he's alright. Mags, who has since joined her, nods in agreement and holds out a glass of water to him.

Hours later, they arrive in Four. Being home makes him a little happier. Annie is still her quiet self, but she does comment on how he seems brighter. So is she, because she can smell the sea once again. She diminishes during the speech, saying that she's sorry she couldn't save her district partner, but Four is understanding. Four doesn't judge.

Finnick catches the eye of his family and smiles. When he looks back at a recomposed Annie, he notes that she's just looking blankly amongst faces. He almost thinks that she's about to phase out again, but she then looks back at him, her mouth slightly open. And then she smiles back.

After dinner, as they're going back to the train for the final stop on the tour, Finnick finds himself asking, "Do you have any family, Annie?"

She looks to him with a frown. Her eyes droop, "No."

He doesn't ask about what happened. Whether they died or disowned her. If she's from an orphanage or remembers faces. They're questions he can ask another time – that he should've asked before, but didn't have the mind to. He hadn't been interested in knowing who she was back then, only in trying to save her and the boy for his own mental health. So he didn't lose it.

He slings an arm across Mags' shoulders and holds out his hand to Annie, "We'll be your family."


From what Finnick's heard from other Victors, they're not usually invited to the final Capitol party at the end of the tour. Then again, in the eyes of many, Finnick is the exception – even Mags is not here. But he is, watching Annie awkwardly dance with other people. Her eyes always slide shut from the start until the end of every dance, as though she doesn't want to see what's on the other side. As though she's pretending she's far away.

He wonders what else is hiding underneath her skin. Things she's not told either of her mentors, or other people. If she dreams about more than just the Games at night. Her favourite colours and what she thinks of the Games themselves. How else she will change because of those horrors. Annie intrigues him if only because he sees her growing instability as unfortunate. Especially because Annie is much too kind a soul to have been subjected to the things she's seen.

She comes to see him from time to time, just to make sure he's alright. She says that he looks uncomfortable, but he assures her that he'll be okay. She even dances with him – he hears whispers wash over them, like sea foam – and then the music stops. Annie is pulled away by her escort. Snow's voice booms over them all, ruining what had been a nice moment.

Hands suddenly slither over his shoulders and then down his sides. In the three years he's been subjected to this untold side of a Victor's life, Finnick's trained himself not to freeze up at unwanted advances. He is Capitol property. He instead watches the light show, pretending that they're lighthouses, guiding boats back to the shore. His hands remain firmly behind his back, clenched into fists for a few moments before loosening.

"We are leaving in ten minutes," she says. It's the Minister of Education – he can tell by the way she enunciates every syllable, as though it's proper speech. He glances down at the hands that clutch the sides of his jacket firmly. The nails are neon purple, but instead of retaining a natural shape, the middle of every single one has had a wedge cut from it. It reminds him of a snake's tongue.

He suddenly remembers the visit in District One. And somewhere deep down, his strength surges forward as he takes a step away and out of her uncomfortable grasp. He says, "I'll not be going with you, ma'am."

When he turns to face her, he takes in more of the Minister's appearance. She is overly fond of purple. Her face almost looks like an abstract painting given the random markings. She is insulted and angry, "Are you defying the orders that were given to you, Mr Odair?"

"I'm not coming with you or anyone else anymore. I'm not weak, and I'm not letting the Capitol make me powerless," he says with more bite, but he smiles sweetly, "You can tell Snow that I'm done playing his game."

When he spots Annie a few metres away searching for him, he pushes his way through the crowd and joins her. She looks a little frazzled and her hands are shaking, but she seems to be okay despite that. And that's good, because now they can go home to District Four... where in six months another boy and girl will be Reaped and killed in the arena.

When he returns, though, he finds out that his Father and his two older brothers were killed in a fishing accident. His Mother and youngest brother are sobbing in the kitchen, mumbling things about an explosion out in the far ocean. His Mother rubs her eyes. His only living sibling keeps saying how he would've been on that boat too if he wasn't sick today. How he's lucky to be alive.

But Finnick knows better. He knows it's not an accident. He knows they're only alive as future leverage. And most importantly of all, he knows that all of this is his fault.

Even when most of the pieces fall, the Games never end.

Annie and Mags leave him alone.


The nightmares are worse after that. He sees their faces, what could've happened, what they could've said. His brothers who used to tackle him to the ground and try and stuff sand in his mouth, and his Father who would pull them off, laughing. Then his Father would show them all how to tie more knots.

Finnick feels like he can't breathe. The guilt is drowning him.

He still barely screams. He wakes up choking, sometimes on tears and other times on nothing. In these instances, he gets up and leaves his home, determined not to wake what remains of his tiny family. They know that he won't be far. Possibly at the beach, but more likely at Mags' house, because her silence comforts him more than words ever could.

But he ends up at Annie's, and that surprises him.

The door is unlocked. He pushes it open quietly and weakly calls her name. She eventually comes downstairs and sees him there; but he can tell by the way that she walks and looks at him that she's slipped away, that she's disappeared. She's not the Annie that he first met, the one that got through the Games. She's this other one, the one that somehow claws through.

"When did I get here?" she asks loudly, "Where is this?"

"You're home, Annie. District Four," he responds, holding back a frustrated groan.

"This is home?" she asks again. She watches him nod slowly and then nods herself, "This is home. And you're familiar. Do you live nearby? The woman... Mags? She said your name is Finnick, right?"

Finnick stares at Annie – this Annie – because he doesn't know what to make of her, of this condition, this result from the arena. He doesn't know how he has to handle her, let alone handle his own problems since the Games. The Games has ruined too many lives and taken away too much from everyone – only now does he feel the brunt of it. What Haymitch felt when he got home. The loss.

His Father and his brothers were gone. It'd been a week and a half. His Mother and youngest brother remained out of the cruelty in Snow's heart. But surely there were more people Snow could hurt just to get back at him, the most popular Victor Panem has known in many decades.

When he realises his eyes are blurry, he sees it then. It's not just his Mother and surviving sibling that Snow intends to use against him. To hurt if he so much puts a toe out of line again. The other half of his family, the only other people he cared about that could be hurt because of him - it's Mags too, and Annie.

And Annie, who has no one, who has done nothing except survived.

Annie, who's somehow become important to him.

He won't lose anyone again.

In the end, Finnick drops to the floor of her house and cries for hours. He yells at himself for his mistake, he wishes that he could've spoken to them one last time. Annie sits beside him, unsure of what to do or how to feel; but she never speaks. She just sits there next to him, as silent as Mags; and when she chooses to place a hand on his knee, he finds himself grabbing it, like an anchor. Looking for something to hold him down before he cracks any further.

Annie eventually opens her mouth and runs her other hand through his hair, "I'm sorry."

It's simple. It's enough.


This Annie lasts for weeks. She is stronger, bolder. Braver. She tells him that her favourite colour is green, and then adds with a gentle poke to the end of his nose, "Like your eyes."

Finnick keeps expecting her to snap back into the other person, the real one. He keeps expecting her to suddenly forget where she is or what's happened. He doesn't understand what's wrong with her, but it keeps him on edge. It's like waiting for the wave to crash onto the beach.

Every Victor must have a talent. Annie makes jewellery out of shells. He stays with her while she learns, and soon she becomes pretty good at it. It gives her something to focus on – not that she needs it, because when she's like this, she has no nightmares. Annie is still complacent, and he thinks that she'll never be as furious as she was that first time.

She even allows the doctors to check her over and visit on Finnick's request. They just monitor her. Nothing major, just a few questions. She asks about the Games, but they never explain it to her. She asks Finnick and Mags, but they won't say anything. Mags thinks it's better this way – better for her to snap back to normal on her own. No need to show her what had happened, because she's better not knowing.

When she does return to normal, the first thing she asks is if Finnick is okay. The doctors ask why – she responds quickly about his family.

"I'm alright, Annie," Finnick replies from the other side of the room. The sound of his voice has her head snap towards him, and she relaxes entirely in her bedroom.

Weeks' worth of memories, gone. Like that.

She won't remember their conversations or the night he came to her. And by the looks of things, this is how she will go through the rest of her life. Jumping from between states, from one to another – and possibly even others. Forgetting. Repeatedly.

"Fugue state," the doctors tell him the next day.

Fugue state.

Fugue state.

They tell him that it happens because of stress – he knows it's started because of the Games. They explain the condition to him and add that it's odd that she's goes in and out of so many fugue states so quickly, but he doesn't quite understand it. It never sinks all the way in, mainly why it persists. He gets its stress, but surely there's more to it. Annie Cresta, the Victor of the 70th Hunger Games, she with no one in the world except for him and Mags... would just forget who she was. She'd think she's someone else, alternating between people, between lives.

Her memories would vanish. She wouldn't recall the way that she'd become adept at making shell necklaces. She couldn't understand why Finnick was a little better, because according to her, they'd just got back a few days ago from the Victory Tour and found out the devastating news. What she'd liked, what she had done. Gone. They tell him that she could forget again at any moment and become someone else, someone that doesn't know him instead of the other person she becomes. That she'd change. They warn him that it can be for a few days, for a few weeks, or even months and years.

But then she would come back, and that's what stumped him most of all.

Annie would leave, but she would always come back.

He thinks on it for days after the doctor's visit. Annie seems to be aware now that she's different to the other Victors, that she's sick – it's not right that she forgets large periods of her life. It saddens her, and Mags is quick to remind her that maybe if she thinks hard enough she can remember.

Annie even asks them much later, when they are at Finnick's house and eating with his family, what she is like when she's not normal. Mags remarks that she is mostly the same. He thinks that there's no point in trying to differentiate them, because despite the differences, they are the same. The differences are still a part of her, and they are still inside her.

The next day, he watches Annie carefully, when they're on the beach. Mags is fishing with his brother and Mother, but Annie's wondering how she knows how to make shell necklaces. She keeps saying that she doesn't know how, but her hands clearly remember from the other Annie's time. Her hands don't shake. They're graceful.

But the look on her face is exactly the same. The same concentration and will to make something beautiful.

And then Finnick understands. Annie learnt to cope by disappearing.

She learnt to simply vanish when the mental pressure got too much, like a hermit crab going back into its shell. When the horrors of the Games were at the forefront of her mind during the Victory Tour, she'd disappear. When she was forced to confront the people's families that she outlived, she'd disappear. When she saw someone she cared for break down, she'd disappear.

Annie places the bracelet back on the sand and then raises her hands to her ears. Another habit since the Games, but it's smaller and easier to deal with than the fugue state. Finnick does what he always does – he grabs her wrists and tries to take them away from her head.

This time, Annie speaks, "Don't, please... Their screams..."

So instead his fingers climb slowly up the backs of her hands and rest over her knuckles, waiting until the echoes of the past leave her mind.