"If we get far enough into the city center, it'll be almost impossible for them to catch us. The people who live there, the really wealthy ones, won't put up with the same security measures that Snow will have put in place through the rest of the city." She hates that Finnick sounds so certain about this, but she has to agree. The Capitol elite are used to a life of privilege beyond what she could even imagine and she does not want to imagine, for her mind will only take her to the darkest of places, and though they have the most to lose, they would also be the least willing to accept any inconvenience that came with added security. Funny how these things work, isn't it?
Don't count it as too much of a blessing. A soft inside is often guarded by the strongest of shells. But with every step, they're moving closer to their goal. She can't allow herself to forget that. Annie adjusted the straps of her shoulder pack and studied the city. Dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon, and with day, hopefully, would come some degree of safety. She and Katniss had taken a few pieces of clothing from the apartment dead woman's clothing, every choice you make brings you closer to her, so once the streets become crowded, they should blend in. Finnick had been more difficult. This woman, Annie would guess, had lived alone, with only a few pictures here and there the baby with the sweet red curls who had grown into a man who beamed bright when his mother hugged him. He must miss her terribly, but Annie could think only of that child, how those big green eyes so easily could belong to her and Finn's baby someday, how someone could rip them away just as Katniss had that woman, to suggest that she had ever had a family. Annie hadn't seen anything that would fit Finnick's broad-shouldered frame. They would have to find him clothes later on.
With Finnick at the front of their informal unit and Katniss sheltered between the two of them, constantly checking the Holo, Annie is tasked with watching for any threat from the rear. Over and over again, she glances over her shoulder, certain that something is sneaking up behind them and the evil here has no need for stealth. Nothing can keep you safe here, Annie Cresta. But yet it chooses to hide, in pods that seem no more than dots, as inconspicuous as any of the thousands of other decorations the Capitolites toss over their city, not even worth noticing until an explosion has stolen your leg or your arm is swelling from a hundred tracker jacker stings. And your neck is cracking with the pressure, so much you almost want it to kill you just so it'll end, and there's a woman standing before you who's screaming because no, it isn't supposed to happen, but her cries are never enough to make it stop, and your body is there but your head is here and –
She pulls her hands away from her ears. No, there's no time for that now mad, mad, mad, mad. Another check over the shoulder. Nothing but shops and apartments, at least not that she can see, but that could mean anything. She's worried that they haven't seen any Peacekeepers yet. It cannot be oversight; Snow is too smart for that. No, he must think that his fortress is impenetrable even without its guards, and that thought is the most unsettling of all. For if the last forty years prove anything, it is that Snow rarely makes a miscalculation when it comes to maintaining his power. Fools may rise, but they quickly fall, for though they see Brother Pride as their greatest ally, he quickly turns against them.
At first, she thinks Finnick's scream nothing more than one of her never-ending waking nightmares, but then the pain descends, burning a path down her leg. She screams and she runs, and Annie is certain it is instinct rather than conscious thought that leads her to pull the huddled mass she almost stumbles over along with her. Pain, an old friend, concerned he had not seen you in so long. It tears along her leg, and she can hardly keep moving, but a piece of her knows that if she stops, it can only become worse. Those instincts of yours are so good at keeping you alive. Bit of a pity, isn't it?
Don't give into it. Don't listen. Keep moving. Finnick's trying to keep up with her, but even with her pulling him along, he's dragging. No, they can't stop, not now, when they're so close. "Annie! Annie, over here."
She struggles to find Katniss. Annie no longer feels like she is entirely contained within herself; rather, the world seems hazy, as if she floats through a dream nightmare, because the sights and sounds that surround her aren't quite real. "Annie!" Katniss is there, waving her towards a door, and perhaps she is a beacon the Girl on Fire, your lighthouse to keep you safe from the rocks. She can hardly refuse even the possibility for safety, so she pulls Finnick along, out of there and into here, but the trouble with stepping over any threshold is you can't know if it's better or worse than what came before.
It's the cave, Katniss and Peeta's, from the Arena. She can remember watching them fall in love it's all fake, none of it's real, she wouldn't have left Peeta behind otherwise and hoping that now that Four couldn't win, perhaps these two could. But their cave had been bare, and this room is too square, too clean, too perfect to be natural. The smell of cleaner hangs around them, and Katniss motions her further and further back, but it's her cave, so she must know best, and Annie follows, Finnick just able to stumble along with her support. He collapses not even halfway down the tunnel – no, aisle, she should know better. She can't lose sight of what's real. My name is Annie Cresta. I'm a Victor from District Four. I don't know where I am, or what's real, or…
Finnick's groan cuts her away from her thoughts. Her marionette strings snipped, Annie finally sees what's in front of her.
Immediately, she wishes she was back in the dream. Blood runs down his arm, so thick it's more purple-black than red, and already, a puddle is forming on the tile floor. Worse is his face, whiter than she's ever seen it and contorted in pain. Therein lies the difference between fantasy and reality: reality always hurts more. Shock, he's going into shock. And in the Arena – she won't stop calling this place that – shock is a death sentence. She sits next to him. "Finn? Finnick, stay with me." She cups his face in her hands, and his skin is cool to the touch. "I need you to keep your eyes on me, Finn. I love you so, so much, and I can't let you leave right now." He's trying, she can tell, but it's not good enough. "Katniss, I need bandages or cloth. Anything to slow down the bleeding." A shudder passes through him. "Something I can use as a blanket too," she adds.
"Got the bandages." Katniss passes her a large packet of gauze and begins unwinding a bandage from a roll.
"I'm going to move now, Finn. You need to stay with me here." Annie reaches for his arm. "I'm going to have to take off your clothes now, but I'm only trying to help, okay? Nobody but me is going to touch you." She hopes she can keep that promise, but as she peels away the cloth around his wound, Annie realizes this is far too much for her to handle. Around the wound, at least four inches long and an inch wide at its largest point, thread, blood, skin, and tissue all melt together into a horrifying mixture, and she can't tell where one ends and the next begins.
Katniss nudges her hand away and covers the wound with the gauze. "Keep talking to him. When I've got this wrapped, I'll see what else I can find for him. They've got to have something to sanitize it in this place."
You can't save him. You can't do anything. You're worthless, always have been. It can't be hard – Katniss is no healer, but you, you're worse than her. Worse than filth. The earth regrets the day your blight entered it, and it will relish the day when – "Come on, Finn, you've got to stay with us. Katniss is putting on your bandage right now. It's just Katniss and me here with you." He needs to be kept warm, and she has nothing to give him but herself. Annie presses close against him, her cheek against his, hoping her body heat is enough to make a difference.
"Done. I'm going to see if I can't find something to sanitize it, some pain meds, anything for him."
Annie's too scared to look away from Finnick to see where Katniss is going. She'll just have to trust that the other woman will come back. People can't let you down until you trust them. "Finnick, please stay with me. I love you too much to let you go." Let? You don't have any power. You can't stop anything. For the first time since they found sanctuary here, she can feel the pain in her leg, and though it's suddenly excruciating, she does not move away from her husband. He smells wrong, like sweat and fire and hurt, but she can't even begin to think about what will happen if she has to leave him behind.
Finnick grabs her shirt. "I-I'm all right."
She blinks away a few tears, still not moving away from him. "You're a terrible liar." Annie shakes her head.
"It hurts, but I'll be okay." His voice is just more than a whisper, and even that is an obvious strain.
Annie's chest shakes with laughter and sobs because now, they're one and the same. "I think you're right on that one."
"Yeah."
"Don't give me another scare like that." She kisses his cheek, and no, it doesn't taste the way he's supposed to, but she's sure she doesn't either. "Katniss and I will fix you up."
The distance she sees in his eyes now seems to be as much from exhaustion as pain. "You two are good at that."
"Katniss is getting you some medicine." Annie glances in the direction Katniss left, really seeing the shop they've made their base for the first time. In this aisle, rows upon rows of bandages and gauze line the shelves. A drugstore. She can't thank Katniss enough. "She and I are going to take good care of you."
At that moment, Katniss arrives with a syringe in hand. "Morphling. I think we can probably hold out here for a little while, and he needs all the rest he can get." She unsheathes the needle, and though Finnick does his best to hide it, Annie can feel his muscles tense.
With their needles and their pills, they can make you feel anything. And then, later, when the feelings are all gone, you get to have your real emotions again, and it's always worse. "Can I do it?" Maybe, just maybe, that extra bit of familiarity, knowing it's her wielding the needle, will help him get through this.
Her hands quiver as she lines up the syringe with a vein, but once the tip of the needle pierces the skin, she is able to administer the shot quickly and efficiently. Annie never wants to do it again. When she's finished, she kisses his forehead before rearranging him into a comfortable sleeping position. He's out within minutes.
Only when Finnick's breathing settles into a soft, steady rhythm does she allow herself to take stock of her own condition. The burning in her leg – oh, now that she looks at it, it's a cut, shorter and far less deep than Finnick's, but she should get that bandaged up before it causes any real damage - has now subsided into a constant throbbing, but that's the closest thing to a major injury she feels. Otherwise, it's just soreness and a few small scrapes. Good, they can't have two soldiers out of commission. "What do you want to do?" Katniss asks, and for once, it doesn't seem like she has an answer in mind. Instead, Katniss sounds the way Annie feels: small and scared, a little girl who wants nothing more than to finish up and go home. But there isn't a home to go back to, not anymore. Not for you either, now that they've shot Dad and Georgia.
"Set up here and hope for the best, I suppose. I'm not sure what else there is to do." It's a sad day when she's the one who has to make the calm, rational decisions.
"Think they're looking for us?"
"Maybe no us specifically, but probably people like us, yes."
Katniss nods. "How long do you guess we have until they check this place?"
"I'm not sure, but we should be gone soon. Let's see how long that dose knocks Finnick out for, and if we're worried, I bet the two of us can move him together." She will die bringing him with her, for if there is one thing Annie Cresta absolutely refuses to do, it is to leave her husband alone in the Capitol to die. She can picture it now, her headstone among those of the other Victors in Four, Annie Cresta: Poor, Mad Girl inscribed on the stone for posterity.
Silly girl. Once they're done with you, there won't be anything left to bury.