Please note that in this chapter Annie seems much more mentally stable than in the books, mainly because I figured it was kind of like a slowly descending condition, so it finally sets in. This is set once Annie arrives back in District 4, so after the 70th Hunger Games, it's just a drabble I worked on whilst I was bored, but I might make it into a series.
Finnick paced up and down the room, a slightly salty breeze wafting through the turquoise curtains – just like everything in District Four was – blue that is. He tugged at his collar nervously, strolling over to the window where the draft of wind calmed him. It was the same air he'd had all his life, the salt from the waves jus tangible as he inhaled it, the taste hitting him squarely in the back of his throat.
The room was reasonably minimalistic yet luxurious, although not many of the Justice Building's visitors had much time to enjoy their surroundings. Finnick had always wondered as a child what lay inside the vast magnificent building, and now that he finally had the time to enjoy it, he wished he were anywhere else.
Running his fingers over the – what a surprise – dark blue velvet armchair, he traced the rich material as he gazed distantly outside the window. He by no means wanted to be here. Not where his own memories perched dangerously on edge; threatening to flood his mind's eye.
By sheer luck he wasn't in the same room as the first time he'd been here, two years ago; where his mother had cradled his head and used her tender fingers to comb his hair; where his father had sat opposite him, face absent of emotion; the tears streaming down his own face before he'd forced them to halt. His face was dry by the time he'd reached the station. Or more importantly, the cameras.
Three sharp knocks caused Finnick's head to snap around and his attention to shift to the door. There was a brief moment's pause before two Peacekeepers marched in, wearing their crisp, pristine uniforms, Mags and a young girl trailing behind them.
"Annie, this is Finnick. You remember Finnick right?" Finnick made to shake her hand, taking a step forward before realising the girl that stood infront of him was in no fit state to do so.
Mags' arm lay across her shoulders, cradling her against her chest. The girl – Annie Cresta – 's eyes were frantically scanning the room, although the alarming lack of focus in her eyes gave Finnick the impression that she was merely skimming her surroundings, barely taking any of it in. Pupils in a frenzy, her gaze finally settled on Finnick and he saw a flicker of what may have been recognition.
They had met before of course, Finnick had mentored her through the games after all. And although he felt a rather personal connection with her – he'd persuaded people to sponsor her in a feeble attempt to save her life – as he fully took in her dishevelled appearance, she was nothing but a stranger. This was mainly due to Mags dealing more directly with her while he'd been handed the responsibility of the male tribute – but still, he felt ashamed that he hadn't made more of an effort.
"What are we doing here Mags?" Finnick asked rather uncomfortable by the sudden realisation, his own eyes looking around the room, never settling on one thing, yet unlike Annie's, out of guilt if nothing else.
"The Mayor wants a celebratory feast, as well as a replay of Annie's greatest moments in the arena," she replied softly, in the way that she always spoke. It was comforting to hear, if not a little disconcerting when you realised that your life was completely dependent on this aging, fragile lady. Finnick raised his eyebrows at this, a feast was one thing, but hardly anybody wanted a replay of the tape shown in the Capitol, the footage lasting multiple hours was as equally entertaining to all in the Districts – and that was to say none at all – unlike the Capitol.
"We're very proud of Annie after all, aren't we?" she said, redirecting her words to the girl that stood next to her, although to Finnick she seemed to be in a place far from where words could reach her.
She couldn't be blamed, the Games changed a person, and there would always be a hollow patch in Finnick that would never quite be replenished, but it seemed to have affected Annie in a much larger way. Finnick merely nodded.
The corners of Mags' mouth turned down into a slight frown, but she shook her head gently, a motion that always worried Finnick in case her head rolled straight off of her shoulders. "I have to go confirm arrangements with the Mayor, you stay here with Annie, Finnick."
Much to his displeasure, the Peacekeepers left with Mags, leaving Finnick and Annie in the room together, and Finnick merely nodded at Mags words, a rather delayed reaction.
He hadn't accompanied Mags to the train station, not wanting to witness the flashing lights, the claustrophobic feeling of the swarming interviewers, like flies drawn to a light. It reminded him too much of his own experiences, and like he had thought before – he shouldn't be here, it was a waste of his time. Especially seeing as he doubted that he could have at least a bearable conversation with the girl infront of him, let alone a bearable silence.
He by no means had expected her to win, a rather remorseful assumption. The male tribute had volunteered, brave, strong, Finnick had seen him training. But when Annie's name was pulled from the glass bowls, the silence in the square was deafening.
Much like now as a matter of fact. No, the odds were definitely never in his favour.
Finnick cleared his throat. "Congratulations," he said, offering his hand to her, attempting the gesture once again. However, this time Annie instead appraised his hand, before she looked up at him once again, and he could see the clarity in her eyes so clearly that he had to refrain from taking a step back.
Even his own words rung hollow in his mind, he should not need to congratulate her, in fact after his own victory he had loathed anyone who uttered the words. He did not believe that she would win, his congratulations meant nothing. She had lost her mind in the arena; his condolences would have been more fitting.
"Don't," Annie replied, and once again Finnick was startled, in all her previous interviews, her voice had trembled, ridden with fear, her eyes continuously darting around, only now it was so much different, it was clear and cold, her eyes solely focused on him.
He tugged at his collar again.
"There's no way to win anyway, so don't congratulate me."
"I'm sorry."
His words shocked even himself, he didn't know where they came from, but the words had bubbled over his lips before he could stop them.
She – or as he should start referring to her as permanently – Annie, did not deserve this, none of them did. But Finnick was certain that he did not look as young as she did when he entered the arena, and he had been 14. She was 17. He was 19 now, but she had been so fragile, so innocent. He'd seen her as he helped his father to buy her family's fishing nets.
There was a week's allowance between that of a tribute winning the games and when they were first presented to the public again, to put the person back together. Finnick had on looked on this, and he could tell. Annie would never be whole again.
"Thank you." Her words were much softer now, muttered under her breath as her eyes still stayed stationary, fixed on his face, and he willed her to look away.
He shrugged in return. "Perhaps we can use those nets you can make to capture more of the Capitol's hearts."
Annie gave what could've been a snort, and after seeing her those weeks so silent, so scared, so broken, it brought something of a grin to Finnick's face.
"I'm not like you, I don't have the Capitol wrapped around my finger."
It was like a smack in the face, and his lips immediately turned in to a grimace. She hadn't done it on purpose, she hadn't said those exact words to hurt him, but they did. How ironic it was.
"We'll see."
"I don't know, we can't all be the seductive Finnick Odair," she retorted. Her eyes widened, as if she'd said something wrong, and there was almost a visible difference, she seemed to shrink back into herself, her eyes appearing more hollow as the seconds dripped past. They began to flicker again, from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, and he wondered if she ever got dizzy.
"Seductive am I?"
The corners of her mouth twitched into an almost smile.
"Keep that smile in place, and you might just make it through the rest of your life."
So, what do you think? Not the best but I like it, they're so cute! Send me your feedback and I will love you 5ever.