A.N: This should have been co-written with my bestie Ophelia Joane but unfortunately I just can't wait and had to write it already. So shout out and ANOTHER apology to Pheebs! This is a gift-fic for avadak3davra and also my first time writing anything Hunger Games related.

I didn't recognise Annie when she emerged from the Games.

When she went in, she was bright-eyed and fragrant, with long, flowing red-brown hair and a mischievous smile. A pretty girl, with a humorous personality. Someone who seemed unafraid to die - especially as she seemed pretty aware that she was going to fail; Annie admitted initially that she'd had no previous training in combat - the only thing she was any good at was swimming, which was a gift we were all blessed with in the Fishing District - and anyway, what were the chances of the arena being an ocean?

I saw the change happen immediately. As soon as the male tribute had his head brutally and violently cut off, the light, the hope, the determination left her eyes. She ran, and hid, and for several days nothing happened. To everyone's surprise, the arena did become an ocean, and, being the only District Four tribute left - she was the best swimmer of the lot.

When she was hauled into the hovercraft after being the only remaining tribute alive, I didn't recognise the beautiful, beguiling and innocent girl that had ventured into the arena. She was soaked from head to toe, her clothes were torn, her hair was mangled and scalped in places - but worst of all was the horror on her face, the horror, the hatred, and the blatant distrust of everyone around her. I had pulled her into the hovercraft myself, and held her to my chest, trying to get a reaction from her.

Though, when her sea-green eyes sprang open, they were glazed over. She started screaming; a high, ear-rattling shriek that I was sure would shatter the windows. I cupped her face in my hand, trying to soothe her, but my attempts went unheard. Annie's fists flew out, beating me and everyone else away.

It was then I realised what was happening - she wasn't seeing me. Whatever she was seeing in front of her eyes, it wasn't me. It wasn't the safety of the hovercraft - in her mind, she was still back in the Games; no, she was still watching her companions head being decapitated from his neck…

It took three more Capitol officials to rush over and hold her down, while a further one ripped apart the remaining material on the inside of her arm. It broke my heart to watch her scream and scream, as the official protruded a syringe, and injected her with a Capitol Cocktail of sedatives.

As her body began to stop convulsing, she looked up at me with her tear-soaked eyes. I laid her head in my lap slowly, and continued to soothingly stroke her hair and cheek until her watery eyes slid closed.

I gasped when I awoke. I felt my arms flail either side of me - expecting endless, endless water - but instead my hands found the cool, smooth sheets of the large bed I was apparently lying in.

When I sat up suddenly, looking over at the large window beside me, I remembered what happened. They retrieved me - that meant I was safe, that I was the winner - but I didn't really care about that, because there were more important things…

The memory of his head leaving his shoulders returned to my mind once more. I furiously grabbed my ears and screwed up my eyes, and screamed the first word that came to my lips: "Finnick!"

I shouted him over and over again. I don't know why it was him - maybe because I felt like there was no-one else out there, but maybe because I remembered the vision of his calming face and deep, deep green eyes, right before I fell into a dreamless sleep.

There were footsteps, rapid, hurried footsteps - and the door to my bedroom flew open. Finnick stood there, wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pyjama pants, and he rushed to my side. "Annie?"

I broke down into hysterical sobs, unsure of what I was even supposed to say. It didn't matter though, because Finnick apparently didn't need an answer. He crawled into the bed, and pulled me towards him with his big, strong arms. I fell against him, and nestled into his chest automatically - a space that seemed to be made just for me. I pressed my ear against his skin, and the steady, irregular thump of his heartbeat seemed to soothe mine, almost instantly.

He was warm, and I was cold. He was gentle, and he calmed the war in my mind. He held onto me all night long, and when we woke up, I had left grooves in his chest from my fingernails.

"Please don't let me go, Finnick," I whispered into his ear, as the sun rose over the Capitol.

"I'll never let you go, Annie," he replied. "Never."