Calaveras (Skulls)

Dawn had just begun to break over the dark ocean and alighting the white faces of the Victor Village mansions with its pearly glow when Finnick had woken up, soaked with sweat, skin crawling, and with nothing but nightmares of hot rain mixed with blood, vines wrapped around trees that shifted with snakes that squeezed the life out of their victims, and a trident as bright as the sun scratching at his mind. Those were the memories desperately trying to bring down the wall he had constructed between his every waking moment and those feelings. Finnick only had two coping mechanisms when he woke up on mornings like that, the first was to try to go back to sleep with the aid of Capitol pills, or the second was to get up and go beat the nightmare into submission.

After the week Finnick had, he opted for the second option.

So by proxy of tearing his muscles and rebuilding them into something better, Finnick had begun his rigorous training exercises. Finnick swore there was blood in his mouth as his shoulders screamed for mercy, but he wouldn't give his muscles release. He was on his 22nd chin up, and he had to keep going. To keep getting stronger, to keep going. He had to keep going until he reached 25, and as soon as he reached it, kicking and nearly roaring in frustration as he forced his chin clear of the bar before hopping down and running to where his javelin stayed stuck in the sand before grabbing it and hurling it in into the target. Finnick stood there gasping for breath, hands braced on his knees and stomach rolling. The memories from the nightmare were still so fresh in his mind and he just couldn't take it, and the only way to get the blood and screams from underneath his eyelids was to focus on a different sort of pain.

A sudden tap came from the porch, breaking him from his thoughts and revealing Mags tapping her much used cane.

"Finnick, it is too early for you to be screaming." Mags told him before Finnick walked up to her, attempting to give her a kiss while she just scrunched her nose at his obvious sweat and general odor, but allowed for him to kiss her cheek.

"Good morning Mags." He said sweetly, hiding his frustration and anger away and allowing them to be overtaken by the genuine care he felt for the older woman while she just rolled her eyes.

"Now look at you! A complete mess! You've been at this all morning and no more. You go take a shower and clean up, I've already got breakfast going on the stove."

"I've got to train or else my whole day gets thrown off." Finnick lied, but even though Mags knew that what he was doing was venting, she didn't comment. "What's for breakfast?"

"You'll have to wait and see." Mags told him before he hopped off of her porch and gave her an award winning smile before walking over and extracting the javelin from where it was buried in its target.

"I'll be right over." He promised before ducking back into his own mansion. Finnick's capitolite interior designer had done the signature District Four motif of water and the ocean. Giving him large windows that nearly flooded the entire house with natural light, the floors were light hardwood and the walls in different shades of cream and white and blue. But Finnick had always known the truth that what lay underneath the cold marble and white wood furnishes, was the bones of twenty-three other children.

He quickly traversed the first floor to his bedroom to grab his clothes and to the bathroom down the hall. He never used the top floor of the house, with its four other bedrooms and two bathrooms because he had no need for them and would never have any need for them because that place was sterile and lifeless, all sharp edges and echoes, because no one lived in this house but him and no one would ever live in this home but him. Unlike the dreams the Capitol woman pressed into his skin, he would never have any handsome sons or stunning daughters that could be sent off to the slaughter, and after all, he had one sole living relative and he was sure as hell never living in the same house as that bastard ever again.

He quickly took his shower, eager to escape the silence of the house before hastily drying off and putting on his shorts and tee-shirt and sandals before again crossing the backyard to Mags' porch and letting himself in, knowing that her door was always open.

He was assaulted with the cripplingly good smell of Mags' house, which was full of color and music and light. Her furniture was mismatched, and hand-woven rugs covered every place that they could be thrown over, the air was full of the scent of baking and potpourri, of all the herbs she kept growing out of window boxes and drying on the kitchen table, some for food, and some for charms that Mags crafted for the women of the District, that she took down every Friday and gave for free. Ron, one of the other Victors always scoffed and told Finnick that such things were simply fairy tales, but Finnick had always been sure the elderly victor had magic in her, for it only took a simply smile to banish any sadness around her.

But that day the house was alight with candles, and golden flowers on every surface possible, and the telltale alter crafted from the window sill. A basin, mirror, comb and shaving blade lay at the foot of the window, while on the sill were a multitude of steaming sweet breads, candies, and confections as well as a singular bottle of rum, and fashioned from a box and a handkerchief the final pedestal had two old pictures, one of a family of parents and three children, two sons and one girl in two braids, the other of a beautiful dark haired woman with sassy lips and a big smile underneath the marriage net with a tall dark man who smiled back just as lovingly. Finnick was so spellbound by the altar that he didn't notice Mags until she reached up to touch his face and broke his trance, her green eyes alight with such adoration that it made his knees weak because no one looked at him like that except for Mags.

"Feliz Dia de los Muertos, mi hijo." She said like a kiss against his cheek, her accent warm and heavy and lush with the Old Language. That language had existed before the Dark Days, and Mags had told him that a lot of the citizens of District Four had once spoken it. It was illegal now, but the ban was scarcely enforced. And though in Uptown, the wealthy section of Four where he originated from, the Old Language was highly frowned upon and viewed as treason, in the Pierside slums and to a lesser extent Cannery District, the Old Language lived on as a sort of code language and slang.

"The dead never did anything good for me." Finnick muttered, kicking himself because he had forgotten that the Day of the Dead was that day because normally he spent it without coming out of his mansion. He just couldn't stand it. But before he could escape Mags gave him a laugh that warmed him all the way through and held his hand, firmly keeping him there without any option for escape.

"It is a celebration of our ancestors and our dearly departed's life." Mags corrected him, "The day when the line between our worlds is thinned."

"Once you're dead, you're dead. I've never heard otherwise." Finnick told her before saying with a little bit of edge, "All I've got are dead. I don't need them in this place."

"It is not a day for suffering." Mags chastised him slightly before lifting his hand and holding it between her fingers, the warm of her thin old fingers seeping into his cold skin. "No, you do not need any more of that, dear boy. This is the time for family."

"I only got one of those too, and I don't need him either." He told her quickly because all he wanted to do was to hold Mags in his arms and never let her go because he loved her so much it hurt him with every breath.

"How many times do I need to tell you that you are my family?" Mags asked, "Won't you humor a frail old woman and sit with her a while? Listen to her tell old tales and nod your head as if you care?"

"I do care!" Finnick said hastily, "I've only fallen asleep once!"

"Ah, you are too easy to tease, mi hijo." Mags cackled and Finnick resisted the urge to roll his eyes before finally submitting.

"Okay…okay. As long as I get a sweet bread and some breakfast." Finnick admitted and Mags smiled brightly before leading him to the table. She served him a District Four breakfast only reserved for the most special of occasions, poached eggs with creamed spinach, shrimp, and drizzled with a lemony sauce with the signature kick of white pepper and cayenne, a plate piled high with fluffy golden beignets that were drizzled with honey and served with mangos stewed in their own juices, and sliced orange and lemon to be eaten to refresh the palate. As soon as he had devoured the first round, ravenous from his exercise, Mags refilled his plates before offering him what looked like simple coffee before he took a sip and felt his eyebrows raise at the old woman smiling deviously across from him, as the explosion of coffee, the spice of cinnamon and cloves, and the kick of lemon and orange liqueur danced over his tongue.

"Alcohol in morning?" Finnick asked with a laugh as Mags cut her own beignet.

"It is a celebration day, my boy." Mags said, "And it is not only that, but a love potion."

"Mags, I already love you. There's no need to cast spells on me." Finnick told her, feeling the smile tug wider on his face.

"Not for me, boy. For you. Coffee to stimulate the senses, cinnamon to inspire love, cloves to attract the opposite sex, lemon for protection of the heart-"

"What's the liquor for? Loosening ambitions?" He asked before Mags just gave him a laugh.

"The liquor, boy, is for the kick." Mags told him before giving a knowing sigh as she drank it. "I believe my other guest is here."

Just a moment later a knock came at the door, startling Finnick and only making Mags smile,

"Come in!"

Finnick's heart dropped like a lead weight into his stomach, inciting nausea as he saw Annie. She was looking livelier than he had seen her look in the past few days, as she had gone into one of her funks and had been unable to leave her house. It had been his fault, he had realized, but he had been actively avoiding seeing her to ease some tension. However as soon as she saw him, it was like a punch in the gut that brought for the fresh feelings of guilt as he saw the smile on her face falter, but immediately she picked it back up.

" 'Morning." She greeted her voice lit with a heavier accent then usual, walking in and reaching over to give Mags a hug which the old woman returned surely. Mags had taken Annie under her wing since her Games two years ago, since Annie was the sole victor from Pierside, the slums and spoke the Old Language with ease. Finnick often spied Mags and Annie sitting on the porch next to each other, sipping mango juice and giggling like school girls and Mags fawned over her and protected her fiercely. Even when the other victors had casted doubts on Annie's recovery, Mags had been unrelenting, and Finnick had come to be ashamed of his own weakness.

Because unlike him, or Ron, or Muscida, or Librae, Annie hadn't been a Career. She hadn't been trained to kill. She had never wanted to kill. Annie Cresta had just been an unlucky girl put into a terrible situation after the volunteer for that year had wound up pregnant and no one had stepped forward to take her place. But she had survived, and felt terrible guilt for it because she knew that the only reason she had survived was that her District Partner, Kai, had died.

The Career pack had decided to do away with them in one fell swoop, and had poisoned both of them with a mushroom in their food that was found in the dark forest. In the Arena it had never stopped raining for a second, and the forest was not only fraught with the dangers of sinking into the bog, but by bears that charged from secret caves and wildcats that stalked down their pray easily in the fog and darkness and tore the unsuspecting tributes apart limb by limb. The only place that was safe had been the mountainside, that was actually the lip of what was almost a giant fishbowl that had been waiting to spill over and so the Games had transformed into an arduous game of a twisted hide and go seek that lasted nearly a month. Annie had only survived because the Careers dispatched Kai first because he had been closer, the boy from One chopping his head off in front of her, and in a state of complete hysteria and fever, she had literally fallen down the side of the mountain. The fall had broken most of her ribs, her right arm and giving herself a fractured skull before she managed to crawl into the bushes to hide. It was only a day after that, with little action and the Capitol citizens tiring of the lack of blood that the Gamemakers had set off the earthquake that flooded the Arena. The sky had been cracked open and the rain fell and the tributes who survived the flood were left battling each other for spots clinging to trees and the tops of the mountains and fatigue, and Annie who had been the strongest swimmer survived and had to drown the girl from One to stay alive.

The doctors hadn't known if it had been the poison, the fall, or the shock from her injuries, but Annie barely remembered her Games. Finnick had placed his bet that she had simply blocked out the memories. That was why during the interview with Caesar, even though he had been gentle with his questions, when the recap started Annie had only made it through two minutes of the bloodbath before she had thrown up on Caesar's shoes and Finnick had to run onto the stage and literally pull her limp body off of the floor as she begged and begged to make the recap stop and for Kai to forgive her. Or why when one of the men at one of the pointless Galas they were dragged to had gotten handsy with her, she had subsequently stabbed him with a cake serving knife because she literally couldn't recall that she was no longer in the Games nor distinguish that the fat and disgusting Capitol socialite who was screaming his goddamn head off from the District Two boy holding her down as Kai's head was severed from his spine.

Annie simply hadn't been made for killing and certainly couldn't take the aftermath. And so she had been doped up on Capitol drugs and had been sent home immediately, and for only the second time in Games' history President Snow had canceled her Victory Tour. The District Four victors had been told that Annie Cresta would live a quiet and private life for the rest of her life and it was their responsibility to make sure that she faded into obscurity. Though they could assure she would cause no trouble, no one but Mags thought she would ever live a normal life again. But somehow against all the odds Annie had begun to pick up the pieces of her life. Annie had lived in the Marsh Home for Girls, one of only two orphanages in Four, and went there often and donated a substantial portion of her winnings to better clothe and feed Boys and Girls at the orphanages. All of those kids loved Annie like their own family. She also often went to the Pierside market with Mags, and during the times Finnick had accompanied her he realized that unlike most of the other Victors all of the Pierside folks adored her and loved her willingness to drive a hard bargain and to pay fair and square. The groups of kids playing on the streets crowded around her, and she always bought them candies or fruits, and the vendors always stopped her to chat. Annie was at her best when she was helping others, Finnick had realized. That made Annie someone inherently good, and even though Finnick thought that the Games would corrupt even the best person into a monster, the Capitol simply couldn't taint the goodness that welled up from Annie like a clean spring.

But Finnick wasn't like that. Finnick knew he was a monster, born and bred for the slaughter. He was absolutely disgusting. Even though Annie had reached out to him in goodness, Finnick had bitten her like a rabid animal. They had gotten into an argument, and Finnick had single handedly drove her back into her home with his heated words. Mags had verbally berated him for it, and had gone to desperately coax Annie back from her home, but Finnick had understood then that he needed to keep distance between them. That someone like her and someone like him should never be close to each other, because Finnick had been growing to love her goodness, her smile, the light in her eyes, to crave it like the way he craved air when he dove deep into the ocean. And it was in his nature to taint everything he loved, and he wouldn't let her be tainted.

When Finnick didn't return her greeting right away and Annie's smile visibly faltered the guilt forced him to reply,

"Good morning."

"Have you eaten breakfast, Annie?" Mags asked, breaking the awkward exchange. Annie simply smiled at her.

"I ate with the girls at the Home and helped them all get ready this mornin'. They were so excited for the festivities." Annie said happily before motioning to her grey frock and paint-smeared apron, "I helped Cora paint everyone's faces along with the other older girls. I just came back to put on a more appropriate dress."

"Festivities…?" Finnick asked confused.

"For the Day of the Dead." Annie explained before sounding oddly concerned, "Haven't you ever gone into town on the Day of the Dead?"

"No." He answered shortly, "No one likes me down there."

"Down where?"

"Pierside." Finnick explained shortly before sighing. "I'm everything they don't like about District Four. I wouldn't fit in."

Finnick got up slowly, his muscles still aching from the morning workout. Annie was so desperately trying to keep her expression neutral but was failing, so before anything else could be said and he made Annie even more uncomfortable he sighed heavily,

"I'm going home. Thank you for breakfast, Mags."

"No. You are not going anywhere." Mags' voice was calm and authoritarian. Finnick froze and Annie looked over to the old woman who was looking at Finnick indignantly, her eyes blazing with an emotion that Finnick couldn't place. "You are to stay here and clean up the dishes, put the tablecloth in the wash, clean the floors, and straighten up my kitchen. When I come back here, everything be spotless-"

"Mags, you aren't my mother." Finnick pointed out and she marched up right to him poked his side with her cane.

"Now, boy. If you even move an inch out of this house, Ancestors help me, I do not care if you've nearly got a foot on me, boy, I'm gonna wallop you into next week." She said warningly before turning to Annie who just looked bewildered and slightly amazed. "Annie, dear. I have a dress I wore back when I was your age. It would look positively radiant on you. And won't you let me do your hair as well?"

"Yes, thank you." Annie said before casting a look over at Finnick who gave her a shrug. Mags led Annie away into her bedroom, and Finnick sighed and got to work cleaning in the kitchen because even if she was bossy, Finnick didn't think it was possible for him to turn down a request made by her.

Cleaning was a therapeutic thing for Finnick, because even if he was tainted beyond repair he could at least make something else shine. He spent at least an hour doing the chores Mags had assigned to him, before also dusting and cleaning the living room before suddenly Annie reappeared.

His mouth dropped open.

She was wearing a gorgeous long dark blue chiffon shift dress, one of those kinds of dresses that billowed behind her like fog off the ocean as she walked. Her dark cherry hair was piled over one side, a braid threaded with a white ribbon encircling her head like a crown and huge white and blue flowers pinned into it.

"-Mags. This is too much for me." Finnick caught what she was saying from within his daydream because she looked impossibly beautiful to him and he couldn't bear to tear his eyes away from her because everything else just paled in comparison to her beauty.

"Nonsense. You look absolutely stunning, don't you think Finnick?" Mags asked, tearing him from his stupor. He struggled to speak, because the sight of her had literally torn the breath from his lungs.

"You look beautiful." He managed to rasp out, and her cheeks flushed and her ears went red, like they had a few days ago when-

He stopped that thought in its tracks before Annie smiled at him.

"Thank you." She said before tugging at her hair like she always did when she was nervous. "Won't you…come with me today, Finnick?"

"You want me to go with you?" Finnick blurted out astonished before flushing at his own haste, "I…uh…don't know what to wear."

"A nice suit and a bowtie." Mags immediately ordered.

"No one likes me in Pierside!" Finnick reminded them both again, probably becoming visibly exasperated.

"That's because they don't know you. All they see is an Uptowner-Career-Capitol lover who everyone believes thinks that he's better than them. They don't know the real you." Annie said, "So come to town with me and help prove them wrong."

Well, he thought, he had sufficiently set himself up for that. Finnick was about to completely deny her request but looking over at Annie and the total hope in her eyes he felt something inside of him cave because he couldn't disappoint her either.

"Okay. I'll…go get that on."

Annie's smile, Finnick thought as he walked away, was worth it.

"Come on Finnick." Annie begged him, "Let's get our faces painted."

"I…I don't know." Finnick said nervously, feeling the sensation of everyone looking at him because they all knew who he was. Thankfully, none of his "fans" had come up to him yet, but that was always an unfortunately possibility.

"It will help hide you from your rabid future brides." Annie told him jokingly as if his concerns were well broadcasted upon his face.

Finnick couldn't help to cede to her, and allowed Annie to drag him to one of the multitudes of face-painting booths.

Annie explained the mythos, seeing as Finnick was an Uptowner and had no knowledge whatsoever of Day of the Dead celebrations. According to her, there were two ideologies. In the first the face was painted or masks were worn so that vengeful spirits could not find who they were searching for, but the one that Annie obviously preferred was the story that the painted face helped to keep the ancestor spirits from feeling self-conscious about their visage. That was so like Annie, however Finnick couldn't help deny the image of vengeful spirits hunting him down was a bad one. After all, he only lived because of the death of twenty-four people in his lifetime, and seeing them again was not on the list of things he wanted. Because even if he didn't believe in things like ghosts or the dead rising again, there was something magical in the air and he didn't even want to pretend to take the risk. So he allowed the obviously entertained woman to paint his face, trying not to flinch as the cold paint dried on his skin, making it feel heavy and odd.

By the end he was offered a mirror and nearly started at the skull that he saw, before seeing his own features skillfully rendered underneath. His face had been painted pure white, around his eyes had been painted a dark blue much like Annie's dress before being circled again with what looked like filigree waves. The tip of his nose was painted black, mouth was lined like teeth, and his chin painted with colliding waves. He looked over at Annie and saw a very similar design, white face, mouth lines, blue around the eyes, and black tipped nose, but the other woman had placed a blue flower upon her chin and swirled her cheeks and temples with black and blue, and her forehead with what looked like a silver crown. She smiled as she caught Finnick's eye,

"You look positively gruesome." She told him, and Finnick couldn't help but feel his lips tug up into a smile.

"You too." He told her jokingly as he thanked the ladies profusely and gave them a hefty tip and they left the booth, "So is there anything we should do first, seeing how you are the expert."

"Everything." Annie said wickedly, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to the booths where vendors merrily called out prices, before clearing her voice to clarify. "I'm not letting you leave until we've done just about everything."

"Have mercy on me." He couldn't help but laugh.

She took him by the games where they threw rings onto bottles, Finnick completing his with rather ease, since he had always had a knack for games with aim and denied the cash prize. They dunked their hands into vats of water to find sea shells, went to carve faces into pumpkins, painted masks, and flew kites that were tossed in the wind like brightly colored leaves. Every few minutes it seemed like someone came up to hug and greet Annie, whether it be the girls and boys from the orphanages, or the merchants who did business with her, or the men and women from the docks who Annie spoke to in a loveable mix of Old Language and regular speak, her Pierside accent only growing stronger with every encounter, and making her even more endearing with every passing hello. By the end of the procession, people had begun to visibly warm up to Finnick, as if Annie's warmth had melted any resentment away they held towards him.

Finnick was thankful that any tension that they had between them had thankfully disappeared as Annie reappeared with a riot of sweets in her hands, as Finnick stood on the side as an ecstatic dance continued and men and women laughed and swung each other around in an upbeat jig that Finnick didn't know the steps to. In Uptown, any dance was formal and was very much influenced by Capitol culture. It was always stifling and uncomfortable up there, so just watching these people be happy gave him enough joy. Annie brought him out of his thoughts, with a glass of cool rum and Finnick tried not to look interested, she held out a piping hot beignet.

"You'll like this. It's powdered with sugar and filled with jam." She said and Finnick pretended to look annoyed as he took the rum and not the pastry.

"Don't you remember that I never eat fruit? It's too close to healthy." He chastised her and she put one hand on her hip and stuck the other near his face so he could catch a whiff of the totally sublime scent of pastry and vanilla.

"Just eat your damn pastry." She ordered, and he reached out to grasp it, trying not to sweat as their fingers brushed and he took a bite, the sugar and flaky pastry melting in his mouth as the cherry jam exploded over his tongue.

"Oh man, this is really good." He moaned, unable to contain the urge to stuff his face and taking another bite.

"Here, can I try some?" Annie asked, and Finnick held out the beignet so she could take a bite from his hand, the act so oddly intimate that he was thankful for the paint on his face that hid his blush. "That is good! And I got you some sugar skulls. They're made totally from sugar and meringue so I don't normally like them, but you might actually be able to."

Finnick took one of them, and popped it in his mouth and crunching it between his teeth. It was saccharine, but Finnick honestly didn't mind. It gave the sort of sharpness that some other flavors didn't, it was literally bittersweet.

"Won't these rot my teeth out?" Finnick said, frowning, "They might actually serve horses better."

"You only live so long, Finnick. When you see something sweet, you should eat it. Don't worry so much." Annie told him gently as his eyes slid back over to the dance floor where women and men danced to the fiddler and drums. "Let's dance."

"What?" He asked worried. "I've never done that jig before."

"It doesn't matter." Annie said, "Dance with me."

"I shouldn't Annie." Finnick said with more force and he kicked himself because this was getting out of hand. Just when he thought that maybe he had scared her away, she seemed to only have come back with more force, with more determination to steal his heart from his chest. But Finnick couldn't let it happen. A girl like her shouldn't ever be with a guy like him, he thought as he finished his glass in one swig before placing it down. "I just…shouldn't. You should go and have fun. I was thinking that I should get back anyways."

"No. If you want to leave, I'll leave with you." Annie told him firmly, reaching out to grasp his arm. "Let's walk back then."

Without any way to argue they walked over to stand where they let people wash the makeup from their faces, and fresh-faced they began their walk back to Victor's Village as the sun began to set on the horizon. For the first couple of minutes an uncomfortable silence passed between them and then in the beaches before they reached Victor's Village which sparkled like a gem on the coast, Annie suddenly kicked off her shoes.

"What are you doing?" Finnick asked, bewildered before she laughed.

"What do you think I'm doing? I've been running around all day and tugging you along, so my feet hurt and I'm going to go in the ocean!" She called in the wind, running down the sand. Without much option he ran after her, causing her to trill with that gorgeous laugh of hers as she got in about calf-deep. With a mischievous smile she splashed him, making him release a very unmanly squeal at the frigid temperature of the water.

"What the hell, Annie!" Finnick couldn't help but laugh as she gave him a face full of water. Seeing no other option, he kicked off his own shoes and socks, rolled up his pants, discarded his jacket and joined her right in the water just as a wave came to smack both of them in the chest. She screamed and he hollered at the temperature before he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder.

"You put me down, Finnick Odair!" She yelled at him and he shrugged.

"You asked for it!" He warned her, sufficiently dunking her in before releasing her. At that point both of them were nearly doubled over in laughter before they trudged back to shore. It was only then as the waves nibbled their feet that Finnick just sat right down in the mud, not caring one lick for the damn Capitol suit. He just felt refreshed, and so good right then that he just wanted to bottle up that moment forever.

And that was when he looked over at Annie and nearly choked on air.

The billowy dress had suddenly glued itself to her curves, revealing the outlines her undergarments. To his totally surprise she pulled up her shirt to mid-thigh and began to wring it out with her hands, revealing her gorgeous legs that were long and freckled and Finnick's hands itched to feel that smooth skin under his fingertips, to travel up and see what further treasure she hid-

He was feeling very dizzy as all the blood in his head raced to his groin. Immediately he slid down to let the ocean forcibly calm him down, trying not to swear under his breath because Finnick knew this would happen, damnit. Knew that they were riding a precarious edge between friendship and something else, and that something else was something he couldn't afford.

"We uh…should go." Finnick said, "You don't want to catch a cold."

"Finnick." Annie said, grasping his arm before starting again, "Finnick…we're good, aren't we?"

"Of course." He answered automatically, "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Because a few days ago, I tried to kiss you and you completely shut me out." Annie told him, her green eyes staring down into his very soul with nothing but kindness and worry and his gut was twisting under that sure gaze. "And now…you're acting like it never happened."

"Because you didn't kiss me and you shouldn't want to kiss me, Annie. I'm not a good guy, and I'm certainly not good enough for you." Finnick told her sternly and Annie just looked indignant.

"You trimmed Mags' hedges."

"What?" Finnick asked incredulously.

"Mags was having a hard time lifting the trimmers, and then I woke up and the next morning you did them all by yourself and she didn't even ask you. And Muscida was having issues with the net she was working on, and you finished it up for her. And when Ron's boating shoes got oil on them and he had to throw them out, and then that new pair showed up on his doorstep. I know he said those shoes were from a fan, but we all know Ron doesn't have fans and none of the Victors tolerate him well. Only you would've done that-"

"What's the point of this?" Finnick demanded angrily.

"You are a good person. A truly, genuinely good person. You don't ask to be thanked, actually it makes you uncomfortable. But you are so good and-"

"I'm not good Annie. I'm not like you. I'm a killer." He told her with a snap as he continued to trudge up the beach because his house was the destination in sight, and the closer he got the sooner he could stop this conversation, but Annie followed him right on his heels.

"You were in the Games, it wasn't a choice."

"Didn't you ever wonder why a fourteen year old was allowed to go into the Games, Annie?" Finnick demanded of her, stopping suddenly and nearly causing Annie to trip over her feet as she just looked at him as if he had suggested something odd.

"I thought that it was like my Games. That the volunteer chickened out, and everyone knew you were at the top of your class so no one volunteered. It wasn't your choice to go in."

"It was always a choice. I just chose to kill." Finnick told her sharply, "I strung them up, Annie, and I gutted them like fish. You know how many people I killed in the Arena?"

"…Nine."

"Yeah. Nine. Nine out of twenty-three. But would you like me if I told you that I killed before the Games?" Finnick told her seriously and she froze and didn't answer, so he just continued because even if it hurt he knew this was the only way to keep her safe, and he had to do it before she got closer to him and he wouldn't be able to let her go, "When I was twelve and I was in the Training Academy, one of the fifteen year olds assaulted me while his friends watched. This kid was a real sadist. The kind of fucker you see come out of One and Two all the time. He really got off on it. But I had a practice sword with me, so I cracked his head open, and broke his femur and shoulder. He died a few months later from infection and the injuries. Don't you see, Annie? I'm a killer. I deserved to be in the Games."

"That's…aggressive for self-defense. But that doesn't mean you deserved to be in the Games." Annie told him firmly but he just shook his head.

"You don't understand Annie." Finnick said before admitting the deepest, most grotesque secret that he had kept locked away in his heart for the first time out loud, "I…I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it! I knew I had the upper hand. Just having an enemy in front of me, not a cardboard cut-out, it was so exhilarating that I couldn't breathe. I kept hitting him, and h-hitting him even when the other boys begged me to stop but I just kept hitting him because it was so fun that I couldn't stop myself!"

His hands were shaking at the memory because it was so fresh, maybe even fresher than those who he had killed in the Games. He could feel it and see it, the boy lying on the ground, moaning and screaming and his hands covered in blood and he had smiled. Smiled because he was in control, not that boy who had been trying to pull down his pants, not that damn bastard who walked in and out of the house with other men's wives and hadn't shed a tear when his mother had strung herself up, or bat an eye when he beat Finnick within an inch of his life. And that smile had been so terrifying to the other boys that when the teachers came upon the scene the other boys turned themselves in so that they wouldn't face Finnick's wrath.

"Finnick." Annie whispered sounding so sad, and Finnick gave her a crooked, bitter grin.

"That's why no one volunteered, Annie. They knew I was…I was like this and I haven't changed. Don't you see? I haven't changed!" He begged her, feeling his tears pricking his eyes because this was who the real Finnick Odair was under the mask, and the spirits of his past never left him and were always tearing at him from the inside and he couldn't take it anymore. "I've only gotten worse. I deserved to be in the Games. I deserve everything Snow has done to me. I'm a monster. That's why I couldn't let you kiss me, Annie. You need to love someone better than me, someone who can give you everything you want."

That was when she surprised him. Annie Cresta didn't run away screaming. Instead Annie wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his completely. She still had flowers in her hair, and he wanted nothing more than to melt into this embrace and into her scent.

"Finnick." Annie's voice was hushed and gentle, and she sighed his name like a lullaby. "Finnick, sh."

"We need to stop." Finnick said in a total panic because he couldn't gather the will to push her away. He had the strength to break a man's neck in his bare hands, and yet he couldn't gather up the strength to push her away from him. "You need to get away from me, I'm-"

"I'm where I belong." She said, and he could feel her fingers trembling on his back as she twisted her hands in his shirt and squeezed him as much as she could. He melted as he naturally returned the motion. There was nothing sexual about the embrace, if there had been he might have rejected it. But instead it was just him and Annie melded together from hips to shoulder, her head on his shoulder and his chin resting on the top of her head, breathing in her absolutely delicious scent of oranges and vanilla and he couldn't bear to let her go. He would have perfectly content to stay there holding Annie for the rest of his life.

"I'm so sorry, Annie." He whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because I'm not strong." Finnick said, "I'm a coward. And I'm a monster. And we just can't be together. It's not safe for you."

"I have a knack for surviving unsafe things." Annie told him surely.

"This isn't-"

"Finnick, being in love with you is my choice and has always been my choice. Do you remember anything about when we were in school together? About how my parents died?" Annie asked, distancing herself from his embrace and beginning to walk up the beach, picking up her shoes as she did so. His arms felt so empty without her in them, as if he they had just been made to hold her, but he shook off the feeling of inherent emptiness and began to follow her.

"Not really." He admitted, because he had barely paid attention in school. Back in the days before Training Academy the damn bastard had been relentless in his destruction of Finnick's spirit and his mother had been popping Capitol pills and Finnick had to take care of her. When he got to school, he saw it as an outlet for the rage and helplessness he had built up and was constantly getting into fights. He had been a Career Scout's dream come true. Vicious, and from a wealthy and prominent family.

"You were two grades ahead of me." Annie said, her back still to him. "So I don't expect you to remember much. But…my Mama was sick in the head. Her mind didn't work right after I was about eight or so. She heard things that weren't there, when she spoke her words were all jumbled, and sometimes she wouldn't do anything for days. It drove my Daddy to drink, because the wife he had loved had suddenly just vanished. When the storm hit and our house flooded, my Daddy had been passed out and my Mama had been in one of those funks, I desperately tried to save them but it was no use. I only survived because I swam out the window and went onto the roof. They both died, and I was so sad. But I was also so relieved because I didn't need to take care of them anymore, and that made me so guilty that when I was whipped and punished and starved at the Marsh Home I was glad. I thought that it was the punishment I deserved."

"But none of that was your fault!" Finnick said, his stomach twisting into knots because he could just imagine it. A little Annie, who had grown up too fast, just like he had. A girl who had taken on so much weight at such a young age, that when freedom came, it came at a cost, and she hadn't known what to think. So she had simply continued to punish herself.

"I know that now. I used to think it was, but now I see otherwise. But that's the point, Finnick. Sometimes things are out of our hands, and we have to make it through the best we can. That monster is a part of you, but there is so much more to you. The monster helped you to survive, and now you can use it for good. Don't define yourself by what you did in the past. You've got the whole future in front of you, and you just need to be willing to take it. The dead can only haunt you if you let them, Finnick." Annie told him, turning around and he could see her smiling through all of her tears, and it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Her tears sliding down her face, the light in her eyes, her hair set on fire by the red splash of evening, and that smile that made his knees weak. "I love you. And I won't ever be sorry for that, nor can you do anything to change my feelings. So you've got to make the choice right now because I…I won't wait forever you know."

Her last words were broken by the crack in her voice, and her chin was trembling. Finnick felt his body move. He reached out to cup her face in his hands, to brush his thumb against her warmed cheeks and her cool tears, feel the way her liquid silk hair brushed against the back of his hand. Her eyes were so bright and so beautiful and so sad and he would do anything to take the sadness from them. He couldn't even call this a decision. He had always known that this had been meant to be.

He didn't know if she had pressed up on her toes or if he had bent down but suddenly her mouth was pressed to his forehead, and a half-moan half-sob was caught in his throat as the unbreakable broken thing inside him caught in his chest, making it impossible to breath as she continued to pepper his face with kisses, because no one had ever kissed him like that before. It was when she attempted to kiss his cheek that he finally turned his face and caught her mouth with his and they both moaned. Maybe it was the tears running down both of their faces, but it was a kiss like the ocean, salty and sweet, powerful and loving all at once, nourishing something inside of him that he hadn't even known had been starved. Finnick pulled her close and continued to press kisses to her mouth, a mouth that was so soft and tasted so much like the cherry jam she had tasted from his own hand and it was so addicting that he couldn't stop. And there was no lust or anger or pain or desperation in this kiss, just love and fondness and adoration as he pressed her body and knew at that moment he couldn't let Annie Cresta go.

The broke apart, gasping for breath. Annie pressing her face to the crook of his neck as her soft and supple body melted against his, and Finnick just held her in his arms, kissing the top of her head and drinking in her scent.

"Annie." He whispered her name like a prayer. "Annie."

She didn't answer, just nuzzled her face further against him only to be caught by the sudden cold breeze that made her shiver. He had forgotten that they were both soaking wet, their clothes hanging heavily and dripping from both of their forms. Finnick unfortunately extricated himself from her arms, went back to where his jacket was strewn on the beach and retrieved it so he could drape it over Annie's shoulder.

"We should really get back to our houses." Finnick said wiping his face of his tears, his blush pretty obvious because his words were so menial in comparison to the soul-shattering moment they had just have. Annie just laughed a tear filled laugh before pressing herself against his side, and Finnick felt his fingers intertwine with hers.

"We probably owe Mags a new dress and an apology for ruining her nice shoes." Annie said, picking up the muddy and disgusting looking silver sandals.

"We might." Finnick said as he couldn't help but laugh as they made their way back to Victor's Village together, hand-in-hand. Mags welcomed them home with a knowing smile at their flushed faces, swollen lips, and totally disheveled states, before shooing them in to get warmed up with the spicy coffee concoction and baths. Before they went to sleep Mags offered them a plate of pastries which Finnick and Annie shared, dipping their fingers into honey before feeding each other, Finnick becoming more and more amused as he daringly licked her fingers and she flushed bright red and swatted at him to stop.

That night he fell asleep on the floor of Mags living room in a nest of blankets and pillows, with a full stomach as the old woman rocked on her rocking chair with a knowing smile. In the darkness he knew Annie's hand was still interwoven with his own.

And under that enchantment there was no dead in his dreams, just a warm smile and the promise of tomorrow.

HAPPY (EARLY) HALLOWEEN!

And here it is, OMGitsgreen first attempt at a canon fic.

This takes place approximately two years after Annie's Games and also has some headcanon stuff I shall now share:

Calaveras means skulls in Spanish.

Day of the Dead is Mexican and Central American holiday tracing its roots back to the Aztecs, and it is celebrated on October 31 (Halloween), November 1st (All Saints Day), and November 2nd (All Souls' Day). I really wanted to use a corrupted version in regards to Panem because it just fit so well.

District Four I always assumed was either Mexico or the South, however when I saw an actual map of Panem it was revealed to me that District Four is basically California, which didn't really mess with my headcanon that much. If the end of the world was happening, I would assume a lot of people from Mexico and Central America would find their way to the United States for protection, leading to what Mags recalled that during the Dark Days and before, the area was full of concentrated amount of Spanish speakers. I imagine that most of the population of District Four lives in Southern California, and the rest of the area is mostly used as fishing outposts. Of course, even today there is a large Mexican influence in that area of California, so it would barely be surprising to me that the accent that Katniss talks about in the HGs was actually a quasi-Hispanic accent and due to Mags' stroke the reason that only Finnick can seem to understand her is that not only did she lose her language skills, but that it was easier for her to speak in "Spanglish".

Just like District Twelve has ethnic groups so does District Four, and it is divided mostly along economic and cultural lines. There are three main sections of Four. Uptown, or the wealthy sector, filled with influential politicians, interdistrict fish mongers, factory owners, landlords, shipbuilders, and ship captains. This is where most of the Careers come from, including Finnick. And the culture is highly influenced by the capitol and they live mostly excluded from the rest of the District. Second is the Cannery District, named for where fish and seafood goes to be processed. It's the home of most middle class working families, shop owners, etc. A fair number of Career trainees come from here, but it is highly unlikely they volunteer. Pierside is considered the slum of Four, the hotbed of most of the District's cultural identity, but also its poverty (though nowhere as severe as District Twelve). Most Pierside work on the docks or building ships and barrels or employed under captains. Unfortunately most of the tesserae taken out comes from this sector. Piersiders are well known for their dislike of the Capitol and for Uptowners, and the Cannery district often identifies itself more with Pierside then with Uptown and those sectors often intermingle and people between them have good opinions of each other.

Annie's Arena is never described in the HGs except for their being a dam and a flood that occurred after an earthquake. Like Finnick said, in my mind the design almost took after a fishbowl, with the center being a temperate rainforest with a lot of dangerous wildlife. I never really go into detail about Finnick's Arena but it can be assumed that eventually I will go into greater detail and that all that needs to be known is that he was in a tropical rainforest. An interesting duplicity.

Also if you saw parallels to Reaching You…good. You were supposed to.

In any case, I hope you all enjoyed! Please like a fav and a review, and maybe I'll return and make this a series of oneshots. But in any case, have a happy Halloween and a wonderful day! ~OMGitsgreen