The new room isn't much better than the old, but Annie starts seeing it as home, as much as anything is home these days. It's not so much that it's rather bigger, or comes with better bedding—blankets and bath towels instead of scraps of castoff clothes—or has a small battery-operated light. It's the door that makes her feel safer.
She's the one who installed it. In fact, she demonstrated the installation of the doors to the watching engineers. The doors that were stripped from abandoned buildings were too tall for the low doorways of this bunker. It was Annie who demonstrated efficient use of a saw and the repositioning of the upper hinge. She's used to taking parts that don't fit and making them fit.
She has to keep opening it for ventilation, but just the option of a barrier between her and the outside world eases some of Annie's ever-present tension.
She and Cashmere spend a lot of time chatting and mending clothes, because even with bad days more frequent than good, Annie can't bear to sit around all day with nothing to do. So she's started taking in sewing. Cashmere, who's learned the basics from Annie, helps her.
Every time someone passes by, Annie freezes. Noticing this, Cashmere pauses in her sewing and looks watchfully out the door until they're gone, then back to Annie. Annie finds this ritual remarkably reassuring.
If Finnick were here, he'd be more chatty, calling them over and not letting them stay strangers. Annie finds she doesn't mind either style. Now that she's seen Cashmere in action, Annie trusts her every bit as much, and needs her more. She could see Finnick spending an afternoon sitting her with her, busy with his hands, but his restlessness would always drive him away again. Cashmere stays.
Annie would wonder if she minds, but she has the strong impression Cashmere's also afraid of strangers, for different reasons. So here they stay, each other's company and shield.
She's also discovering that she finds Cashmere's body comforting in the same way she does Finnick's. Not touching her, but just close enough to make itself felt. Just enough of a barrier between her and everything that could hurt her that she can let go of a tiny bit of her fear.
When someone stops at their door, Cashmere rises protectively, but doesn't say anything. Annie's on her own when it comes to making decisions.
"Annie Cresta?"
"That's me," Annie acknowledges.
"Beetee has just arrived from District Thirteen and has news for you."
"Tell him he's welcome to come down here."
The man shakes his head. "He can't. Enobaria got him in the spine. He can't walk. You'll have to go up to him."
"He's above ground?" Annie's voice shakes. Even if this isn't a trap to lure her out, it's dangerous.
"No, we can't risk him above ground. He's in a room just off the common area. But this is the very deepest part of the bunker, and the ground's too broken for him to get down here."
Finnick would have had a plan by now, probably one that would involve coaxing her out, but Cashmere just stands silently, waiting for orders.
Reluctantly she agrees, but she gestures to Cashmere to walk in front. If it's a trap, then the enemy knows where she is, and she's probably not much safer down here than up there.
Only on the way does it occur to Annie that she could have asked for the news in writing, but they're almost there, and she'd be too embarrassed to turn back now.
It's probably safe, she reasons, and then, Cashmere's here.
The ground is pretty broken and littered with debris, not something she'd really noticed before. It's a makeshift bomb shelter, not a well-designed community.
Beetee's waiting in a wheelchair. Her mind on Finnick, Annie thinks of his mother, both legs damaged, hobbling stubbornly around on crutches because the wheelchair her son bought with his winnings was 'tainted.' She's glad Beetee gets a choice.
Annie sits down across from Beetee. Cashmere stands at her shoulder, on duty. Beetee glances up at her, then away. In his eyes are a memory of Gloss killing Wiress, and Enobaria getting past Cashmere's guard to stab him a second time.
It's not her fault, Annie wants to say. Cashmere's a good fighter, but she wasn't at her best that night. As if being devastated over Gloss, hoping for a quick death, and not knowing about the plan and expecting a knife in the back from Beetee at any moment, weren't bad enough, she kept glancing over at the fight going on to her right, ready to help Finnick at a moment's notice. Enobaria didn't give a damn about anyone in the arena.
"You saw Finnick?" Annie opens.
Beetee nods. "The details are top secret. All I can say is that he's shuttling all over Panem, working to solve the food problem. The food's in the southeast and midwest. We're in the west. In between are our enemies."
Annie knows just enough of the map Finnick spent years collecting to follow this summary. "A delivery came through a few days ago."
"Another one came with me," Beetee tells her. "We're on the verge of a breakthrough. I've been working on communications. In Thirteen, trying to get control of television broadcasts across the country. Now I'm here working on different projects. I can't give you many military details, but one project that directly impacts you is that we're fortifying this bunker. One of my jobs is to make sure we'll be able to communicate with the outside world safely even when we're in lockdown."
"And how are things in Four?" Annie asks. "Pearleye's still in charge?"
"She is," Beetee confirms. "From what I understand, they're battling to hold onto the coast, and there have been a lot of casualties, but they have a good enough antiaircraft defense set up that the Capitol hasn't been able to bomb them out of existence."
Mags' plan is working, then. So far. "Do they—we—have hovercraft of our own?"
"I can't say," Beetee says. It's ambiguous enough that Annie can't tell whether he doesn't know, or that's classified information. She doesn't press. "I can say that Finnick was alive, in good health, and highly energetic when I last saw him."
Annie slumps against the back of her chair. "Thank you."
"I wasn't expecting to see you. He said he usually passes through Three without stopping. I suppose that's to keep anyone from suspecting you're here."
Oh, Finnick. He's still trying to make up for losing his head in the arena. And before that, whatever led the Gamemakers to know it was her voice they needed the jabberjays copying.
Come home, Finnick. Someone needs to tell you it's not your fault.
The next time Finnick lets himself stop in Three, Annie's in a new shelter. Hearing the story almost gives him a heart attack, but she made it, so he forces himself to shove his fear for her to the back of his mind.
She isn't safe. There's nothing he can do about that except fight harder. But now he's here, and he can stop fighting for a few days and see her.
In the shelter, Finnick's guided to another closet-like room that's just as far away from the entrance as the last room. That's good, it means she got to choose it.
Unlike the last one, it has a door, but the door startles him by swinging open at a touch.
Inside, Cashmere comes quickly to her feet, but Annie just twitches a little. The sound of her heavy breathing and a glance at her still form show him that she's sleeping more deeply than usual.
Finnick hesitates, watching Cashmere's face while he gives her a broad, nonthreatening smile. He won't come in if she isn't comfortable with him.
At the same time, Cashmere is studying him closely, her face so much a mirror of his that he only stops his laugh because he doesn't want her reading the wrong meaning into it.
Finally her expression brightens, and she takes a large step forward into the hallway and throws her arms around him.
"You're back, you're back!" Cashmere whispers, squeezing tight enough to take his breath away. "Do you want to wake Annie?"
Finnick breathes a sigh. He's still not sure she's not afraid of him, but not being mad at him is a good start. "What do you think? I'm staying for a few days, so we can let her sleep a little longer if you think that's a good idea."
"She's been having a lot of trouble sleeping." Cashmere offers.
Finnick nods. "Is there some place we can go to catch up, then?"
Cashmere gestures to the door next to Annie's. "That's my room, technically."
It's small, but it has a light. They move around brooms and buckets and other odds and ends to make room to sit on the floor. "I'm never in here," Cashmere apologizes. "I'm always with Annie."
Something unknots in Finnick's shoulders. "You're getting along, then?" he asks, while looking at the gloves he's stuffing inside a bucket, and only watching the outlines of her body language out of the corner of his eye.
Cashmere nods enthusiastically. "She's really nice to me. She talks to me, answers all my questions, tells me things, and makes sure I don't have to be alone."
Finnick sits down first, letting her have the tactical upper hand. "Tell me how things have been, then."
He grins when Cashmere immediately uses her tactical upper hand to fold herself onto his lap and get comfortable. "We're still snuggle buddies?" Finnick teases out of sheer relief from all the ways he's lain awake at night imagining this reunion might go. Then he wants to kick himself, because this isn't just anyone, this is Cashmere. Sitting on his lap might be nothing more than a survival instinct, one he knows all too well.
"I'm a snuggle bunny," she teases back. "And it looks like I'm not the only one."
Finnick laughs. "Yes, I guess I am." He runs his fingers through her hair, careful not to disturb the tiny braids interspersed in the long waves. "I heard you had to evacuate the last shelter? You weren't hurt?"
Cashmere shakes her head. "After the gas wore off-"
"Gas?!" Finnick starts gasping. It's Mags all over again, and not being able to breathe, that insidious fog on his skin, in his lungs, in his eyes, jerking and twitching, his body not obeying and it always obeys-
"Finnick! It's okay, it wore off!"
Finnick closes his eyes, and reminds himself as hard as he can that Annie and Cashmere are here and in one piece, and it's not like Mags at all. "You're sure? No lingering effects?"
"No," Cashmere says firmly. "They just wanted to capture us so they could question us later. And Annie and I hid her as far away as possible, she didn't breathe as much as anyone else."
Of course. It's just his paranoia. There are no lingering effects.
"Anyway, I did my best to take care of Annie. She's not an athlete or a killer, but she's very tough."
"Of course she is, and I'm glad you were with her," Finnick says warmly, then changes the subject as quickly as he can. "How about you, are you okay here? If you're miserable, bored, lonely, can't stand to spend one more minute around Annie, I want to know that. There won't be any consequences except finding you a better situation. And I'll be asking Annie for her opinion of how you've been doing, so don't bother telling me what you think I want to hear."
"No, no," Cashmere assures him. "I like Annie, and I want her to be safe."
"So do I, but not at the expense of making you unhappy. Is it better or worse here for you than Thirteen?"
Cashmere hesitates, and Finnick tries to guess why.
"I'm not asking if you like me or Annie better. I'm asking about the situation, how safe you feel, how other people are treating you."
"No, it's better here," Cashmere says quickly. "I asked Rudder for a firearm during the evacuation, and he's made sure I've had one ever since."
Finnick silently gives thanks to his old mentor. For the rest, he'll just have to ask Annie. Cashmere's still trying not to say the wrong thing.
When he doesn't say anything more, she doesn't either. She only watches him, and waits, and waits, until finally he can feel her start to relax by degrees in his arms. Even then, it's only a minute before she catches herself and jolts upright, knocking a broom to the side with her elbow. "Is this—allowed?" She steadies the tottering broom.
Finnick keeps an arm reassuringly across her shoulders, without pressing her. "Do you want to sit here until Annie wakes up?"
"Only if it's within the rules," Cashmere says firmly. "I don't want to let anyone down."
"Did she say anything about not being comfortable with this?"
Cashmere shakes her head. "She said she didn't mind. But people always say things that aren't true and expect you to understand they're just being nice, and I always get it wrong."
Finnick laughs. "Not Annie. If there's one thing you can count on her for, it's honesty about her boundaries. It's up to you, honey, whatever you're comfortable with."
Still she hesitates. "I promised I wouldn't be clingy."
"And I promised you honesty. I missed you. I have found no one else in the world, not even Annie, who likes being held as much as I do. That's why I held back for so long, sugar, I couldn't believe you weren't just being compliant."
Slowly, Cashmere leans in close again and wraps him in her arms. "I couldn't believe you weren't just taking pity on me. I haven't found anyone who doesn't want anything from me that I'm not capable of. I've always...I've always never been like other people."
"You've had an unusual life," Finnick reminds her. "There's no one I would trust more with Annie. I sleep better knowing you're with her. You've had my back from the beginning. You saved Gale's life. You picked up so many skills it made me dizzy. You were with Annie through the evacuation. I couldn't have gotten the trains into District Three without you."
Cashmere doesn't relax all at once, but by degrees, like a bud opening to expose the petals hidden within. Finnick finds he still loves, more than anything, the feel of her fear melting into trust. So he gives himself and Cashmere this respite from the pressures and problems of the rest of the world. For tonight, it's just the two of them, giving and receiving comfort.
He tries out every endearment he can think of, and watches her body language. Some, like "doll" and "peach", cause her to tense slightly, and Finnick's careful not to go back to those. But "angel," "kitten," and "princess" are some of her favorites, and she gasps out loud when he calls her his sunshine.
"But that's what I call you! Sitting here is likely accidentally finding my way out of a maze into the daylight, not knowing how I got here, and having to soak it up before it goes away again."
Finnick groans into her shoulder. "I meant it, angel. If you're too lonely, you're not stuck here. You can come with me and help solve problems if you'd rather. We'll work something else out for Annie."
"I want her to be safe, though." Cashmere looks torn. "Is District One still not...an option?"
"I'm sorry."
Cashmere nods, accepting it.
That just makes Finnick feel more horrible. "I'm really trying not to keep you prisoner. If it were just you and me, I'd let you go home. But you're high-profile, you defected publicly, they tortured Johanna, they tortured Peeta, I strongly suspect they tortured Enobaria, and they'll torture you even if you go back with the full intent of supporting their cause."
If she were anyone else, he could help smuggle her over the border to lie low, but her face is too recognizable. Maybe something could be done to disguise her, but the costs are so high that Finnick's going to wait until she asks.
"I know," Cashmere tells him. "You explained."
"But you were hoping something had changed. I'm sorry it hasn't, but I'm glad you asked."
"It still feels weird," Cashmere tells him. "Being able to ask. Almost wrong. But I'm getting more used to it. Annie likes it, I think. She says she likes having someone to talk to, the more questions the better."
Knowing them both, Finnick thought they'd get along when he devised this arrangement, but it's always difficult to predict how two human beings will interact. He kisses Cashmere's temple, making her smile. "That's wonderful. Did she do your hair?"
"She's good with her hands."
Finnick's not bad with his, and he gives her the best comfort he can, the soothing caresses that let her fall back into a peaceful silence where she doesn't have to worry. "Nothing to get right or wrong," Finnick murmurs, "no need to perform. No problems to solve. No being alone. Just sunshine to bask in."
Cashmere gives a quiet moan of contentment, which Finnick echoes. He's talking as much to himself as he is to her.
Annie's knocking is what alerts Finnick to the fact that he dropped off while sitting up, still wrapped up in Cashmere. He doesn't know how long he slept.
"Cashmere, are you all r...Finnick? I didn't know you were here!"
"You were sleeping," Finnick explains hastily, "and we didn't want to wake you."
"You'd hardly slept for days," Cashmere adds.
"I know sleep is precious," Finnick says, speaking of both Annie and him.
Then he's in her arms, held tight, clinging to someone who understands him and knows him inside and out.
"Do you need privacy?" Cashmere asks.
Annie laughs, choking a little, and answers for him. "Judging by the fact that Finnick is actually crying, I'm going to go ahead and answer yes."
A few minutes later, he's stretched out in bed beside her, burying his tears in the crook of her shoulder.
"None of this should have been necessary. You shouldn't have to be in hiding, I shouldn't have to go months without seeing you, or if so it should be because I'm not in Four..."
"Finnick, it might have been necessary anyway. Or at least the best strategy. A lot of people are being hidden away here, and none of them your fault. Including me."
"Well, if Evan was your fault, you must be my fault."
Annie narrows her eyes and pokes him in the side with her finger. "I see where you're going with this, and I don't like it."
"So is your situation my fault?"
"You came running to save me. I just gave him away and wasn't prepared to do anything for him at all."
"We both lost our heads. I had training and should have known better. You didn't sign up for any of this."
"Well, all right, maybe it's your fault too."
"Annie!" Finnick lifts his head to look at her. "That's not where I was going with that."
"I know, I was supposed to say the opposite. But even if it's not your fault, I can see why you're so convinced it is."
Finnick sighs. "God, this whole thing is so messed up. Anyway, I'm being selfish, how are you holding up?"
"I don't know," Annie groans. "I don't have my medication, I don't know anyone here, I can't stop dreaming about you...and Mags and Evan and Donn. Even when I'm awake, I can't stop watching you die in my head. Now I watch Cashmere dying to protect me too. I guess the food situation has gotten better."
All Finnick can do is lie down again and put his head back on her shoulder. "I suppose encouraging you to get out more and get to know people is one of those things that would help you feel better, if only you felt good enough to get out and meet people."
"Something like that," Annie agrees. "You're so trainable."
"Do you eat with them at all?"
"Cashmere gets my food," she admits.
"Has anyone said anything?" He's prepared to go out blazing in her defense if anyone has.
"Not any more than people usually do when they don't understand. But if I go out there, and I have a meltdown...people never react well. You were the only one I ever trusted with my meltdowns."
"Cashmere?"
"Cashmere does exactly what I want, which is not react. But if there were a bunch of strangers around, could she keep them from reacting? I really don't think so."
Finnick can't disagree. "Dammit, I wish I could help. I guess I can get an early breakfast or late dinner with you, but that's all. I'm officially in District Three because Rudder needs my help, not because I'm visiting you, so I have to be seen working for him during the day. I can spend nights here, that's all. But I do want to get to know these people you're living with. For my own peace of mind."
"I'll try?"
"My brave Annie." Finnick hugs her and presses his face to the side of her head. "How's it working out with you and Cashmere? Do you feel safe with her?"
Annie's lips tighten. "I feel bad for her. For exploiting her. She has a hundred other more enjoyable ways she could be spending her time besides hanging around making me feel better."
"But she does make you feel better?" Finnick presses. The self-disgust in Annie's voice worries him, but then it's no different than when she talks about Evan.
"She does," Annie concedes. "She's wonderful. You were right; she's not scary at all. To me. If I were a Peacekeeper, I'd be afraid to mess with her."
"The perfect combination," Finnick says with a slight smile. "That's why I thought it might work."
"Too perfect," Annie tells him. "Too accommodating, if you know what I mean."
Finnick does. "Does she seem unhappy here?"
Annie has to think about that one. "She's unhappy," Annie begins, feeling her way through this. "I'm not sure if it's more than she would be anywhere else, though. Her brother, and the arena, and her life before then...of course she's unhappy. So am I. But as for the situation...there are good parts and bad parts, and that would be true of anyone. I can't really make that call for her." Annie pauses. "She misses you."
That stirs mixed feelings in Finnick. "Does that mean she doesn't hate me?"
Annie shakes her head. "Unless I'm very far off the mark, she's head over heels and trying not to show it."
Finnick grunts. "I thought that might be the case. It'll pass. It always does."
"Maybe," Annie says. "Anyway, if she hasn't secretly told you she can't stand the crazy girl, we'll leave the arrangement the way it is?"
"I'll tell you what I told her," Finnick says. "I sleep better knowing you two have each other."
Annie wishes she could sleep at all. Without her sedatives, her sleep is plagued with the same horrific dreams night after night. She knows she needs the rest, she wants to make the most of every minute she has with Finnick before he has to leave again, and she knows the nightmares aren't real, but the prospect of reliving terrors that were once real, is enough to have her shuddering at the thought of sleep.
She lies on her side, resolutely counting fish in hopes that tonight she'll be spared, and half-wishing Finnick were having one of his own insomniac nights. Selfish of her, but at least they could keep each other company.
But no, as always Finnick's insomnia is better when she's here. Annie can't begrudge him that, not when he'll be alone again so soon.
Watching him sleep, hoping that maybe her affection will prove stronger than her anxiety, Annie sees him twitch. Tenderly, she runs her fingertips from temple to jaw, hoping to soothe him. Finnick stills briefly, then bolts upright in bed beside her, gasping.
At once, Annie sits up with him. "Just a dream," she murmurs, "just a dream." When she's sure that he's heard her voice and knows it's her, she leans forward against his back, patting and soothing. She doesn't ask any questions or make any demands, simply gives him touch and warmth while he takes the time he needs to come back to himself.
"I was in the arena," Finnick finally begins unsteadily. "I was killing Sheer. But when I went to look at the body, it was Cashmere."
"Oh, Finnick." Annie presses her cheek to his shoulder. "She's here. She's safe."
"I've never had a nightmare about my first Hunger Games. A lot of dreams, yes, very intense, bloody, sometimes unpleasant...but never a nightmare. I hardly ever have nightmares at all. But now I can't stop thinking, what if she was a sweetheart?"
"And if she wasn't, then it's okay, she deserved to die?" Annie asks very gently.
"Of course not," Finnick admits. "I knew that the first time around, and I never lost sleep over it. But now I know that her volunteering wasn't as voluntary as you might think. Does Cashmere talk about her at all? I haven't dared to ask."
"She has," Annie begins slowly. "Sheer wasn't a sweetheart, not like Cashmere. She was one of the smarter volunteers to come out of One, where normally they select for athleticism and compliance. I gather she was more like Johanna. Not as aggressive, maybe, but scornful. She despised Cashmere and made scathing comments about her intelligence."
"Good thing I killed her, then!" Finnick exclaims in mock outrage, and laughs.
This is her Finnick, whose most inappropriate humor means that he's in pain. Annie continues, still petting and stroking his back. "Cashmere tells me her job with the tributes was to calm them when they were nervous. Not her official job, of course, but she always found herself reassuring them. But Sheer avoided her."
"And Cashmere blamed herself when Sheer went into the arena a bundle of nerves," Finnick guesses.
"Yes, and that's not even the worst. All these years she's been wishing things had gone differently, but she's used to losing her tributes. Now she's fallen desperately in love with you, and she has to reconcile her feelings for you with ten years of wishing she'd helped someone kill you."
Finnick sighs from the bottom of his soul. Then he finally turns around and takes Annie into his arms. "I told Johanna that. They want to keep us divided, so they make sure we always have to wish someone dead. I told Johanna not to tear herself apart over killing our tribute. So I guess I'll try to take my own advice. And I'll talk to Cashmere."
Lying down, Finnick gestures to Annie to join him, but she doesn't, yet. Instead, still sitting, she puts a hand on his arm. "Do you want me to go get her? Would you feel better if she were sleeping here with us?"
"Really?" Finnick asks, surprised.
"She always sleeps here with me. Is there a rule that she can't when you're here?"
"It'll be crowded," Finnick observes.
"I won't mind. She certainly won't. She doesn't like being alone. I don't even think she'll mind being woken up, if it means she can be with us."
"Does she still not? I thought it was just right after she came out of the arena that she didn't want to be alone with her fear and grief. She was quick enough to volunteer to sleep in her room when I showed up. I assumed she wanted to be alone, or maybe she didn't want to watch us together."
"Well, volunteering isn't always voluntary. I think she's trying her best not to impose."
"If it really won't bother you..."
"Finnick, I can't sleep. You're having nightmares. And she's alone. I don't think any of us will be worse off for a cramped bed."
Annie tries everything she can think of to sleep at night, and relax during the day. All she wants for the next few days is to have a normal relationship, ignoring the fact that she's in hiding, she can only snatch a few days here and there with her boyfriend, and he may well die before she sees him again. The urgency only makes her pretend harder.
Perhaps because she's trying so hard, it's only on Finnick's third night here that Annie has her next meltdown. It starts when he puts his hand casually on Cashmere's shoulder, and then in her memory she sees him doing the same in the arena after Cashmere's defection, and then Mags is dying and Finnick is lying on the ground twitching chasing the jabberjays being dunked in the water and screaming out his pain her name-
Annie.
"Annie."
"No!" She covers her hands with her ears and starts rocking. He's out there in the front lines of this war, and she can't do anything for him, can't save his life like Johanna fucking Mason or tend to his wounds or even just be there for him at night, because she's too frightened to leave this shelter, and Cashmere could do all those things but she has to be here and not at Finnick's side, because Annie's too frightened to be alone, and Cashmere's going to die protecting her just like Finnick's going to die alone in some faraway land, and it'll be Annie's fault just like Evan and Mags and Donn are Annie's fault.
No one would tell her what happened to Donn, but she's crazy, not deaf, and on the voyage up here to Three she overheard the talk about the Battle for Annie Cresta, how someone went out with "You're messing with the wrong district" as her last words and how someone else, little more than a child, had thrown a kitchen knife and his whole family died for his defiance just like everyone in the district died when the Peacekeepers broke down their doors. Where is Annie Cresta? *bang* Where is Annie Cresta?
"Annie, love."
She can feel Finnick's eyes on her, burning through her, and even if he's not touching her, his concern for her is swamping her like that flood she barely survived, and no one should have to survive fire and water at once, not even in the arena, where Mags died and Finnick died and Annie Cresta died and something broken came crawling back and why is Finnick looking at her like this-
"Go," Annie chokes out. "Please!"
Finnick makes an unhappy sound, but he rises from the ground and puts his hand on the door, and there are two of him why are there two of him, is she going crazy? and then she remembers.
"Cashmere."
Finnick freezes. "Do you want Cashmere to stay?"
"Please!"
Finnick's hand trembles when he closes Annie's door behind him, and he has a hard time arranging his face into a photogenic mask. Annie needing to be alone during an episode is nothing new, though it hurts every time. He does his best to do everything she asks, sits still without moving, talks steadily without expecting her to listen to the words, and gives her silence when she needs it. That's not always enough, but at least he's gotten used to the fact. If she can't handle people, she can't handle people.
But suddenly, whatever Cashmere is doing is enough, and Annie can handle her. Just not Finnick.
He should be glad, he knows. He tells himself that again and again. It was a good idea to bring Cashmere here. Annie's safe with Cashmere and she trusts her, and that makes sense because Cashmere was with her all the way through the evacuation and is here every night. Finnick's never saved her, only endangered her, and he's never around at times like this, so why should Annie want him?
His hand hovers over the knob of Cashmere's room, the one she never sleeps in and the only place he can go for privacy, but he can't sleep, he can't afford to break down crying, and he can't handle being alone, so he heads out to the common area instead. Almost everyone's retired for the night, but there are a few night owls working or just hanging out. He did promise Annie to get to know some of them for her, so he pulls up a chair and starts chatting.
Finnick can chat superficially with anyone, any time, but whenever he starts to probe for an update on recent events in Three, instinctively fishing for information, he runs up against a wall of politeness. At first he assumes it's the same resentment he encountered on his Victory Tour, when his only kill that wasn't a Career or in self-defense was against the boy from Three, because even hotshot record-setting Careers aren't immune to electricity. Now that he's been electrocuted, Finnick congratulates his younger self on having his priorities straight.
But they're on the same side now. Even if he failed Wiress, and had to prioritize Peeta over Beetee, the alliance between Three and Four is the strongest in Panem right now.
Digging deeper, Finnick begins to pick up on a different undertone than resentment. It's one he knows well. Condescension.
You couldn't begin to understand what we do is the message.
And all right, he's no physicist, but he's a spy trained by a strategist, and he'd put his trained memory up against anyone in this room's any time. Finnick has to keep reminding himself that he promised Mags he was prepared to deal with the fallout of his reputation, because he's so tired of the same fight over and over. No sooner does he convince someone to take him seriously than he meets someone else and has to start from ground zero.
Raw from Annie's—it's not a betrayal—pain, sick with worry, and tired of fighting this battle, Finnick finds himself above ground, making for headquarters. If he can't sleep, and he has no one to keep him company, he can work himself to exhaustion.
When Finnick's gone for a couple of nights in a row, Annie makes herself go out for breakfast with Cashmere, telling herself that if it's a disaster, Finnick can deal with everyone else later while she hides in her room.
And Cashmere's here. The more she keeps reminding herself of that, the more she has at least one weapon to fight off the fear. Evacuating set her back, and adjusting to the new shelter was almost as hard, but both times Cashmere rose to the occasion effortlessly. It was like she got calmer when there was a crisis, something Annie can barely imagine.
Now she's here, and Annie briefly reaches out to touch her arm for moral support as they near the eating area.
When she hears her own name, Annie freezes instinctively. Cashmere freezes beside her, while Annie waits, listening with increasing outrage to the gossip.
The first thing she hears is a murmur of agreement that everyone's opinion of Finnick's taste went up when Annie came to Three. They agree she's clearly 'quality,' especially since she assembled the doors. But Cashmere, beautiful, available, and none too bright, did Finnick's reputation no good.
Annie's already fuming when the talk turns to disapproval of Finnick inflicting his mistress on his fiancée.
"Can't believe she puts up with that. I'd have kicked him to the curb by now."
"Women have lied to themselves before this. Or just looked the other way. He's quite the catch."
"In bed, sure, but you'd have to be crazy to marry him."
Laughter. "You're saying he chose well, then. With the crazy one."
"Maybe she just doesn't think Cashmere's going to stick around long. I mean, he's going to get bored. He always does."
Someone else throws out a theory that Finnick, who used sex to get what he wanted in the Capitol for the sake of the revolution, is binding the most questionably loyal rebel to him, to keep Cashmere from defecting back. Annie gets a bodyguard out of it; why should she complain?
"It's consistent with his overall story," someone concedes. "But if I were Annie, I'd have to be skeptical. 'Oh, I don't want to sleep with this gorgeous woman, I just have to. My life is so rough.'"
They laugh.
"Well, I think this is nothing but sour grapes speaking. What we really all want is to be Finnick, get away with murder, have a harem..."
Annie chooses that moment to make her entrance. She actually steps in front of Cashmere, whom she usually walks behind. The group seated around the table jump guiltily at the sound of her voice.
Her arms are folded as she leans casually against the door jamb and stares contemptuously at them. "You know what's always the first question on my mind? It's 'Is anyone trying to kill or torture me right now?' After that, it's 'Is anyone trying to kill or torture anyone I care about?' 'Is there food?' 'Can I get my medication?' Somewhere on this list is 'Is Finnick taking any risks with his life that I need to worry about?' Down around one million on this list of questions is 'Who is Finnick sleeping with, anyway?'
"I really wish my life were stable enough for me to waste energy debating that. It appears to be a very entertaining question that can keep you occupied for hours. If I ever have that luxury, I'll find a group of friends to sit down with and gossip about someone else's sex life."
"So he didn't give you an explanation either?" someone demands, trying to wipe the guilt from her face.
"Oh, he did," Annie informs them. "And I believe him, because honestly, he knows any explanation would be good enough for me. Even 'I feel like it' would have been more than good enough."
"'I feel like it' is the most explanation any of us have gotten from him," someone else defends. "You can't blame us for wondering."
"When he's sitting in an underground shelter hiding from the enemy and you're out there risking your life to save his, then you can expect him to explain himself to you. Until then, you can shut your mouth and give thanks that there are Careers willing to keep us alive."
With that, Annie steps inside and moves toward the food. "Now, I was coming here to sit and eat with all of you, but now I can't think why I wanted to, and I'm certainly not putting Cashmere through that."
Furious, she grabs the ladle out of the server's hand and starts filling her bowl with mush to carry back to her room. Cashmere, who says nothing, and whose face shows nothing, takes the ladle from Annie when she's done and fills her own bowl.
Annie deliberately said nothing about President Snow, or lists. That's Finnick's secret to keep or give out. But she's got Cashmere standing next to her, Cashmere who knows all about why victors "just have to have sex with this gorgeous (wo)man," and who knows what it's like to be shamed for it, and she's going to protect Cashmere.
Annie's parting shot as she leaves, having ignored all attempts to placate her, is, "See, as long as there's food-" She gestures emphatically with her bowl. "I don't care if he's out on a mission fucking Rudder right now."
When Finnick returns, quite late that night, from his mission, hugs Cashmere, and sits on the bed with Annie, Annie greets him with indignation. "Did you know they're talking trash about you and Cashmere? And wondering why I put up with it? I've even heard speculation that I'm too far gone to notice."
Finnick just smiles wryly. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. The gossip's been out of control since day one in District Thirteen."
"And you've been letting them talk?" she demands.
He shrugs. "Not in my hearing, but what can I do to shut them down when I'm not around? My sex life's always been public property. I'm used to it."
"She's not." Annie looks toward Cashmere, who's standing by the door, waiting to be asked to leave.
Finnick looks at Cashmere regretfully. "I can't make them stop talking. All I can do is tell you it's not true."
"But it is," Cashmere answers softly.
"What part?!" Annie demands. "The part where I'm too crazy to realize you're having sex with Finnick, or the part where I'm too crazy to realize I'd have to be crazy to marry Finnick? Finnick, stop smiling. I see the humor, but she's hurting."
Finnick hastily wipes the smile off his face.
"The part where you're going to get bored." Cashmere doesn't take her eyes off Finnick. "I was only surprised when you didn't the moment you were back with Annie."
"Oh, honey." Finnick reaches out his hand. "Come here."
Cashmere comes over to the bed, but holding herself aloof, guarding against the inevitable. Annie and Finnick get her settled in the middle, held close on both sides.
Annie starts, unable to contain her outrage. "I heard that Finnick is bribing you with sex he doesn't want to get you to work for us, because your contributions are valuable, and I heard that he's forcing me to put up with you, because sex is the only thing you're good for. They can't both be true!"
"What they're saying, lamb," Finnick summarizes, "even if they don't realize it, is that you're both attractive and competent."
"Sounds like someone else I know," Annie says with a nudge at Finnick.
"Exactly. Maybe if they were more attractive and competent, they could have sex with me too."
Annie elbows him harder this time. "Aside from sex with Finnick, which is all things wonderful and exciting but not the only thing worth doing in life—stop snickering—even if you two get tired of sex with each other, you still live with me. This is your home, and you don't have to be alone no matter what he says or does. Okay?"
"Okay." Cashmere makes to rise. "I'm sorry, I'm cutting into your time together."
"No, stay," Annie urges, reaching out to catch her hand. "I'm sorry you've had to put up with this. I didn't know this is what they were doing to you every time I sent you out for food."
"It's the same everywhere."
Finnick makes an unhappy sound. "If I didn't know that, I'd offer to take you out of Three. But it was the same in Thirteen. And it was the same in the Capitol before that."
"You don't think Four would be better?" Annie wonders.
"Honestly? I think it would be worse. Four's pretty protective of you, Annie. The real answer, if it were doable, would be to spend more time in the common area. They won't make as many snap judgments if they know you."
"You think I want to be friends with these people?" Annie asks with scorn. "I went out to have breakfast with them, and look what happened."
Finnick smiles self-deprecatingly. "I won't repeat the things I said before I met you."
"Really?"
"I was nineteen, I was an idiot, and you were nothing to me but a drain on Mags' time and resources. Good thing I got to know you, right?"
"Good thing! All right, I'll think about it." What Annie thinks is that even if she's more willing to push herself to try it for Cashmere's sake, it doesn't make it any easier.
"I can bring people here one at a time, introduce you to the ones I think you might get along with. They do seem to respect you; their problem is with me and Cashmere."
"You did a good job with the last person you introduced me to," Annie acknowledges with a smile at Cashmere. "All right, I know you're trying to help."
Finnick holds his hands up, palms forward. "I'm trying not to push. How are you holding up? That can't have been pleasant this morning."
"I'm fine. A little shaky, but I'm better off than she is. At least I can rage at them in my head."
Finnick gives it one more try. "Sweetheart, I don't know how to tell you anything you'll believe more than you believe my reputation, but you're a wonderful angel who makes my life better, and Annie's. You are sweetness itself."
At the beginning of the familiar litany, Cashmere relaxes in his arms with a small sigh. "A honeybee," he continues.
She sits up straight in confusion. "Honeybee? Don't bees sting?" she objects.
"Yes," Finnick teases, "each bee carries one sword, and they're very skilled with their swords, so they get lots of respect. But they also make honey, so we love them." He nuzzles Cashmere, who breaks out into a wide smile at a laughing Annie.
"Well, now that you explain it that way, I like it." Cashmere beams in pleasure. "So that makes me your honeybee?"
"Our honeybee," Annie answers firmly.
The bed is crowded again that night, with three people in it, but Annie's only complaint is that she falls asleep almost instantly, without the chance to savor Cashmere curled up in a ball on one side, and Finnick stretched out on the other, her arm flung over him. It's the warmest she's ever been, and she sleeps for once dreamlessly.
Finnick wakes her up before dawn. "I have to leave in an hour. I'm being summoned back to Four."
Groggy, Annie hangs her head and can't quite hide her disappointment. "It's only been five days, and you were gone two."
"I can only afford five days," Finnick explains, and he can't quite hide his impatience. "I'm not exactly inconspicuous. I'm sorry I fucked up in the arena, but even if you were in hiding in Four, I couldn't risk letting them trace me to you. You said you wanted to be with a celebrity and a soldier, and right now, this is what it means."
"No, I know, I know. I just feel bad because I keep putting off apologizing for kicking you out."
Finnick tries to shrug it off, but his casualness is forced. "If you can't handle my company, you can't handle it." He hesitates. "I was just wondering if, whatever she's doing right, I could maybe try it?"
"It's not—is she asleep?"
Finnick puts his hand on Cashmere's shoulder. She doesn't twitch. "Yeah."
Annie puts her chin on her knees and sighs. "It's not anything you're doing wrong or she's doing right. It's just that I meant it when I said I can't handle people. Even when you're sitting still without moving, I can feel you watching me, needing to do something, worrying about me-"
"I have done everything you asked!" Finnick half shouts, in frustration and pain.
"I know! You said you wanted to be with the mad girl on a rollercoaster. And that means sometimes Cashmere's the only one I can handle because being in a room with her is like being alone. It's not a good thing! She doesn't radiate personality, I can't tell she's there when I close my eyes, and she doesn't take initiative. You were right, she's more damaged than I am, and I feel guilty that when I'm having a meltdown, that makes her easier to take.
"Finnick, please don't wish her problems on yourself. You're the only one of the three of us who has a chance of coming out of this in one piece. I wish I could help her, and I don't know how."
"Okay." Finnick twists the bedding in his fingers, trying to accept this. "Annie?" He holds out his arms, and Annie climbs onto his lap. She wraps her arms around him, pulls his head down onto her shoulder, and gives him all the comfort she can.
"Please don't think I want you to change. Or that I don't want you around. It's just...everything that's happened since the Quarter Quell was announced has been almost as bad as going into the arena the first time. I got set back to zero again, and I don't even have medication. But I'm trying, I promise. And I haven't lost all the ground I gained since the first time. I learned a lot about what works for me and what doesn't, and I have people I can trust." Her fingers knead the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, making him moan. "I wish I'd known you the first time, enough that we could hold onto each other like this."
"Does it help?"
"Finnick, you know I can never promise to be consistent, but right now, at this moment, it does. Now come back to me in one piece, or if you can't, come back and let me put you back together."
Finnick promises, wakes Cashmere for a quick hug goodbye, and then he's gone.