Title: Salty Tears.
Characters/Pairings: Finnick, Primrose, Annie. Finnick/Annie, Finnick/Primrose (friendship).
Summary: There's so much he can hear in her voice in what she says next. Shock. Accusation. Pain. Confusion. Innocence. Incredulousness. Fact. Love.
"You don't deserve to die, Finnick."
Rating: T.
Author's Note: You probably shouldn't let me watch sad shows where people die at night. This is what happens. Enjoy my depression, show a little love.
Salty Tears:
She's probably lying face down on the ground in a pool of her own blood. Body beaten until she can't move a muscle. Limbs cut off. Face mangled to the point where she's almost unrecognisable. But not to Finnick. He'd know her anywhere, she was the love of his life after all.
No matter how many times these images appear in his head, or how different they are, her eyes are always the same. They're beautiful, in the midst of all this pain and suffering. The sea green swirls call out to him as she moans his name in agony. Some would say those eyes are heaven sent, others could suggest such beauty could only be trickery sent from the fiery depths of hell. But even in his darkest hours, Finnick saw the world in her eyes.
Annie Cresta held the world in her eyes. She knew every inch of this cruel place; from the most precious things this earth could give, to inexplicable horrors that no being should ever witness. But she did. And it almost destroyed her.
For a long time, Finnick experienced a flicker of the life Annie lives in. Mostly, he simply exists in this world of hazy grey. It's safer that way; to just cut yourself out from the pain you know is real.
There's always a flaw to every escape plan. The flaw in his escape from the suffering, is that sometimes – it's hard to separate what pain is real and what is not.
"Finnick?" The voice jolts him out of his thoughts, shocking him to the core. The soft, gentle tone to it, a hint of music locked away in the deepest vault of them all. The voice has a kindness to it, an air of innocence. Annie's voice.
Eagerly, his eyes shoot open, heart racing faster than ever thought possible. Only for it to drop further than ever before. There's a young girl in front of him, she can't be older than fourteen at the most. With her blonde hair and hazy blue eyes the colour of the rockpools he ventured into as a child, Finnick can't help but recognise her, as if she were from another life.
But she's not Annie.
He wants her to feel the pain he does, the disappointment she just served him in her attempt to be Annie. His own eyes bore deep into this girl's, letting her feel every single one of his emotions at once. There's hatred. Too much hate. Despair, plenty of that to go around. Agony, desperation, pain. So much pain.
He doesn't need words to tell him he's pushed her to the limit. The girl flinches and her eyes well up slightly, but not before she blinks them away.
Finnick can almost hear her thoughts as she retaliates. Two can play at that game. Before he even processes what's happening, she sends back her own onslaught of emotions. Oh, they're just so different. Full of comfort, happiness, hope, love. Love. Too much love for a girl her age to even begin to comprehend. He can feel her worming her own way into him, attacking the barriers he's raised to protect his inner shell. But he just can't stop looking.
It's only the reminder, but she's not Annie, that makes him wrench his eyes away and snap them shut.
Love.
Finnick Odair doesn't deserve love.
Not when he left her. God knows what's become of his Annie now, all because of him. Perhaps beaten to death, or resigned to becoming an Avox. Perhaps resigned to being Snow's personal Avox. Unable to make a sound as she's punched and pummelled until she can barely stand. All because of him.
The thoughts alone make him writhe in pain, struggling to escape. But the metal bands around his wrists and ankles stop him from running away, running away to find her, to save her.
Strangely, her hand is what calms him, what draws him away from his dangerous thoughts. It cold against his, probably because he's boiling up after all he's been struggling. Even he can feel the blood just pulsing underneath his skin. It's small, too, impossibly small, compared to his large ones.
They just wait for what feels like hours for the pain, venom, hate, everything inside of him to ebb away into this little girl. But when he finally dares to open his eyes to look at hers once more, he doesn't see any of the hate he forced onto her. All he sees is love and kindness, everything else just dissolved into her – to be transformed into better emotions.
"You're not her." He spits out the poisonous words. If she feels hurt at all by them, she's strong enough not to show it.
Her thumb gently rubs up and down his restrained hand, trying to ease him into releasing his clenched fists. Somehow, after a lot of coaxing, it works and he immediately feels calmer.
"No." She almost muses, her voice still has that slight musical tone hidden in the softness. She begins work on his other hand while she continues. "I'm Prim."
Prim. He's almost certain he knows her know. There's just something about her. The way she holds her head. The shape of her eyes. So young. But so old.
It doesn't take too much longer for her to ease the tension in his hands. He gently flexes his stiff fingers, wincing as the blood rushes to them. His wrist twists slightly, held firmly by the restraints. A burning feeling around them.
"I can relieve the pain, if you want?" she offers, watching me closely. He goes to shrug a return but realises it's useless in his position, so he simply nods. "Only one wrist at a time though. Please don't tell anyone, I'm not supposed to let you out of…" she looks disdainfully at the metal band she's working to release. "…them."
That puzzles him, why would she risk being caught just to relieve him of a little pain? But then a niggling voice at the back of his head whispers, because she's a good person, unlike you.
Prim releases one of his wrists and he dares not move as she applies a salve. The burning pain is gone almost immediately. Chancing a glance at his hand, he sees the red mark that could almost form a bracelet. There are a couple of boils and blisters but nothing that wouldn't heal. The girl locks his wrist into place once more before repeating the process on his other hand. Then he's locked right back up.
"Why can't you let me out?"
She looks down onto the bed from her perch on the end. "They told me that they tried to a couple of days ago. But that you started hurting yourself." She admits, the words falling from her mouth. "One told me that you'd tried to smother yourself with a pillow."
Good, he thought. It would be better if I died anyway.
Prim's head snaps up, almost as if she heard his thoughts. It's only when she says these next few words that it finally hits him. Of course, everything fits into place now. She's Katniss Everdeen's little sister.
There's so much he can hear in her voice in what she says next. Shock. Accusation. Pain. Confusion. Incredulousness. Fact. Love.
"You don't deserve to die, Finnick."
"Many would disagree with you on that front."
"Including yourself, I gather?"
Finnick cocks his head in her direction. The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in an amused smirk.
"How about you let me out, and I promise to take you to see the ocean someday?" He wonders if she'll pick up on the underlying words in his proposition. He promises not to kill himself for long enough to take her to the sea. Just one cautious look into her eyes, and he knows she understands.
"The ocean. What's it like?" The words are formed carefully in her small mouth, mulling it over while she asks. Her eyes betray her; they lit up at the mention of the word.
"It's the beginning of everything, and it's the end of everything."
Mutts. All he goes through and it's fucking mutts that tear him away from the world. Away from Annie. Again. Really, damn the universe and their stupid aversion to two people in love.
It's calm here, but he's not quite sure where he is. He instinctively reaches up to his neck, to feel for the gaping wound left by those blasted lizard things. But there's nothing there. No gashes, or blood spilling onto his crisp, white t-shirt. So why does he hurt so much?
Isn't dying supposed to fix everything? All the pain and suffering. Finnick rubs at his neck fiercely, almost willing for his wound to reappear to give him an excuse to just curl up into a ball and cry from the pain he already feels. The pain from losing Annie. The pain of knowing that this time, he won't see her again.
He knows that the pain really is from losing her. His love, just when everything was perfect. She was his wife now, the most beautiful bride a guy could ever dream of. But now he was gone. Torn to shreds. Or blown up, whichever one killed him first.
So he cries. He wails, breaks down, stains his shirt with salty tears. The tears run down his face until they each his lips. He remembers their wedding day, when she caressed his lips with her fingers, spreading the salty water. Their one little piece of home. The thought brings on a whole new wave of tears.
Finnick doesn't know how long he spent curled up in a ball, rocking backwards and forth, and thinking about her. The space he's in, you couldn't even call it a room – it's so endless. It's just the purest white you could imagine, almost so bright it could hurt your eyes. He feels too clean, too perfect. Hell, he doesn't even know how he's changed into these new clothes, white top and dark blue denim trousers.
Don't be stupid, he thinks. You're dead; you can do whatever you want.
Whatever he wants. Does that mean he can see Annie? Cautiously, he rises to his feet, taking a few steps forward in this strange unknown place. His fingers reach out, to grasp something that's not there, but that's just it. It's not there. They close around nothing, perhaps a wisp of mist at the most. There really is nothing here.
Finnick lets out a loud sigh. How on earth does he get out of here? How is he supposed to find Annie when he can't even escape his prison.
Prison.
Maybe this is his punishment. Doomed to remain for the rest of eternity, punishment for all those he killed. No, not killed. Murdered. All those times he was unfaithful to Annie.
Any last hope he had of some sort of God vanished. Surely this God would understand the circumstances in which he acted. But instead, he was left in this lifeless place.
He collapses on the floor, closing his eyes in defeat.
"Finnick?" Annie looks up at a tired Johanna. An exhausted Johanna. Her eyes are lifeless, all traces of joy that may have once occupied them have fled.
"He's gone, Annie. He died while they infiltrated deeper into the Capitol." Annie remains silent. Johanna rushes over, grasping his wife by the shoulders and shaking her violently. Still she doesn't move. "Annie! He's not coming back!"
"I know." She murmurs, long lost to the world. "I knew hours ago."
Johanna collapse onto the floor into a heap. "You couldn't. We only just got word." The words come out sounding bitter and horrible, but Finnick knows they weren't meant to cause pain.
"I know that too. I felt it. I felt it when he died, his pain." Annie wraps her skinny arms around her spindly legs, copying Finnick's earlier stance. "But he didn't feel the pain too much, at least not physically."
Johanna doesn't know much what to say to that, so she just lies down on the hard floor, settling next to his wife.
"I'm pregnant."
Finnick blinks and knocks himself out of his trance. A child? The tears threaten to spill over his eyes once again, the thought of having a child he would never know. Never hold in his arms. But a child who would live safely under their mother's protection. A child who would grow up in a world where it's safe.
Once you know how, it's not overly hard to work your way around this place. It doesn't take you where you want to go, but somewhere you need to go. Finnick has spent most of his time watching over Annie, his wife. Honestly, he fears his heart may explode with pride. At just how incredibly brave she's being.
But apart from watching over the living, he has encountered no-one since he arrived.
Until he hears that sniffling noise.
His head whips around so fast, he's sure it would physically hurt his previously living self. There's a mass of golden hair, draped over somebody as they rock to and fro, shedding the tears they desperately need to get out of their system.
But it's just that hair, he would know it anywhere. It belongs to someone far too young and innocent to even know of a place such as this.
Primrose Everdeen.
Gently, he pushes the hair out of the young girl's face. It's soft as it always was, cascading down to just above her waist. She dons a simple white dress, with thin straps, and it ends just midway down her thigh. Her feet are barefoot and curled up on each other.
"Finnick?" she sniffles, wiping the tears away from her eyes. He sits down next to her, opening his arms before encircling her in his warmth when she accepts his offer. "I'm dead, aren't I?"
He takes a while to answer, passing the time by stroking her hair as he used to do to his little sister. How are you supposed to tell someone they're dead? Especially someone who should not be dead. Someone too kind and innocent and loving.
When he doesn't speak, she carries on. "I went to help the children. I saw Katniss. Then it was all so hot. It was so hot and bright."
He swallows the sobs threatening to escape his own throat. "Have you seen her since?"
Prim nods. "I didn't mean to, I didn't even want to. She's not saying anything, Finn. She's hurt and in pain and-"
The sobs take over and for the second time since my death, someone's tears soak through my t-shirt. "I don't want to be dead, I don't want to be!" Her wails are muffled against him and he pulls her closer to him, adjusting her so she sits on his lap.
"Shh," Finnick rocks the young girl back and forth as she cries. He's not even ashamed to admit the tears were flowing freely from his eyes as well.
He always knew that her great capacity to love would be her downfall.
"You know, Rory asked me out on a date."
It's so out of the blue, completely random, that Finnick almost laughs. He lets out the first smile since he died.
"Trust me, if I was there, you would not be setting one foot in the same room as that boy."
She looks down sadly. "Now I guess I never will."
Finnick's heart breaks when he takes one look at the girl in front of him. He can remember his first loves, clear as day. It was Annie, of course. He'd had crushes before, but nothing like the overwhelming feeling that came with splitting your soul with someone.
He had seen those two around one another, the tension was sometimes unbearable. If you could bet any money on any two people in the world most likely to be together for the rest of their lives, it would be them, if not Finnick and Annie. But now, both promises were slashed.
"Mum helped me pick out a dress, he was going to pick my up at seven. But that's when the call came through and I had to-"
The tears have long since run out. Between the two of them, they must have cried out a whole river. Still, the choking noise remains. The reminder that although you may have run out of tears, but you can still cry.
"I've seen him, too, you know. When I close my eyes." Prim bravely continues, seeming almost relieved to share her story. "I know Katniss blames Gale. But I forgot how good Rory was at sneaking around, finding out things he never should have. So he knows, too."
Finnick wonders if she knows why she's here. If she blames Gale or Beetee for the creation of those damn bombs.
"I thought Rory was going to kill him." It comes out as little more than a whisper. But it's enough for him to wrap his large hand around her own small one.
"Come on." He leads her through the whiteness, which is too bright. But slowly, it becomes mistier. The ground feels softer, harder to step on. The white mist raises up into the air, forming soft, gentle clouds. He sighs, content as he catches sight of a glimpse of the ocean. The sparkle of the waves as the sun hits them from different angles.
"It's beautiful." She breathes it, the sound almost inaudible.
"Well I had to keep my promise, didn't I?" he nudges her softly as she stares, transfixed by the sheer beauty of it. "What do you think?"
She squeezes his hand in response.
"I think it's the beginning of everything, and the end of everything."
Author's Note: Hey, you guys. Thanks for reading, really hope you liked it. Sorry my new multi-chapter isn't up yet but maybe this will make up for it. Drop a review? I'd love to hear your feedback. Loves.