I have a soft spot for Finnick if you haven't noticed. Mostly because I imagine his personality like a cross between the Finnick in The Hunger Games and Alec from Dark Angel. Plus I'm picturing him as Max irons so that probably adds something to him as well.

So with that said, I've got a lot in store for Evi's relationship with Finnick since she's so confused about her feelings for him and her feelings for Peter.

Anyway, here's chapter 10!

Voices, unbearable pain, more voices, and then darkness.

That's all I remember after my skirmish with the witch, and I couldn't even tell you whose voices I heard. I do remember waking up, though, my mind in an ugly fog and an unpleasant burning sensation on the whole right side of my body.

"Am I dead?" I let out a groan, placing my hand over my forehead, feeling the soft cotton of gauze and tape just above my right eye.
"That depends, am I present in your heaven?" Finnick's smooth chuckle reaches my ears.
"Ugh, God no," I cover my eyes with my hand, as my mind clears somewhat, "Ian Somerhalder...or Joseph Gordon-Levitt maybe."

Finally, I open my eyes, being bathed in a dim yellow glow in what appears to be the aid tent. The darkness outside tells me it's nighttime but during which day, I have no idea. And there's Finnick, with a happy grin on his face, sitting on my left. One look at him and all I can do is chuckle.

I can honestly say I'm happy to see him.

He looks tired, dressed in a clean white shirt with an open neckline and a simple pair of black pants, and his face was smooth being freshly shaven. It seems that Finnick's had time for a bath.

Wincing at the sharp pain, I try pushing myself into a sitting position, noting that my right arm is in a sling.

"Easy there," Finnick jumps from his sitting position, helping me rearrange my pillows.
"The right side of my body is on fire," I cringe, settling back into the pillows, "What happened?"
"The witch plowed you into the side of the cliff...I told you that you needed to be more aware," he chides, pointing a finger at me with a smirk.

I grab his finger, throwing his hand back at him with a shake of my head, unable to keep my own smirk down.

"She went after Peter then," he continues and my eyes widen.
"Well what happened? Is he all right? I want to see him," I rave, abruptly sitting up only to be sidelined by a wave of dizziness and fog; Finnick jumps up again, easing me back onto my pillows, this time sitting with me on the bed.
"You don't listen well, do you?" he chuckles in a quiet voice, pointing to all the sleeping forms with us in the tent, "Peter's fine. The witch stabbed him in the arm, he's sleeping down there."

I glance down the row of beds, seeing Peter's blonde hair peek out from under some blankets and I can relax, Finnick's warm body pressed against mine and his glorious scent similar to Kenneth Cole's Reaction, wafting in my nostrils.

"Well how did he get away?" I ask, my voice greatly lower in volume.
"Aslan came and with a whole battalion of soldiers who were turned to stone," he smiles.
"Aslan!" I gasp, bolting up again only to be pushed down once more by Finnick.
"Am I going to have to tie you down?" he smirks, hovering over me.

My body shudders involuntarily, and I push Finnick off of me.

"Aslan's alive?" I ask, distracting him.
"Yes. He says the deep magic brought him back because he committed no treason," he explains.

Relaxing again, I sigh, closing my eyes with Finnick watching over me.

"How long have I been knocked out?" I suddenly ask him.
"About a day. You woke up when we popped your shoulder back in but then you crashed again. Lucy tried using her cordial and it healed the broken bones but there's still a lot of bruising...and then your obvious concussion," he ran his thumb over the bandage on my head.

"Father Christmas said that one drop could cure any injury," I furrow an eyebrow.
"Not for us."
"Us?"
"Members of the Order," he clarifies.
"But I'm not a member yet," that fuzzy feeling, starting to cloud my vision again.
"It's in your blood, though, and that's what matters," he answers, sliding off the bed leaving the left side of my body feeling very cold.

He draws the blankets up, tucking me snuggly into bed.

"Where are you going?" I ask, the tone of my voice revealing that I don't want him to leave.

He smiles at me before leaving, "To tell Aslan that you're awake. Get some sleep, I'll be back in the morning."

"Haven't I slept enough?" I mutter and look down the row at Peter's sleeping form after he's gone.

Something gnaws at me, wondering why it was Finnick at my bedside and not Peter; I thought for sure he would've been there. He is injured so he does need his rest just as much as I do so I suppose I can't blame him. I would've gotten out of bed to go see him, if only I could get out of bed without feeling dizzy.

So until morning, all I do is lie in bed not even trying to fall asleep but dawn is only a few hours away and one by one the denizens of the infirmary tent begin to wake, Peter being one of the last.

A wide smile crosses his face as he sees that I'm awake and he comes running over. I laugh as he plows into my bed, wrapping his arms around me. I'm soon overwhelmed by the other Pevensies, each eagerly enveloping me in their cheerful embraces. A low chuckle interrupts our small moment and we all turn to see Aslan walking over to my bed with Finnick at his side.

"Your grandfather would've been proud," the great lion speaks and I feel a tinge of pink race across my cheeks, "You have once again proved yourself to all of Narnia, dear one. You have my thanks."

Lucy lets out a loud laugh, barreling me back into my pillows.

"We will make way to Cair Paravel as soon as the Kings and Queens have had something to eat," Aslan tells Finnick who dutifully nods, "Come, Your Highnesses. Lady Evelyn is sure to need some rest before the journey ahead."

Edmund and Lucy hop of the bed, running after the Lion while Peter places a chaste kiss against my cheek before following Susan out.

"I don't need rest, I need a bath," I roll my eyes with a heavy sigh.

Finnick lets out a laugh that makes me smile.

"As soon as you can sit up without getting dizzy you can have a bath."
"Fine," I utter, immediately sitting up.

He waits a moment, folding his arms across his chest with a smirk playing his lips but I never fall back in vertigo. I throw him a satisfied smirk, tossing away my covers.

"Keep smirking, Evi, and let's see how well you can walk on your own," he says, helping me out of bed, knowing that my balance would be off.
"You're not coming with me," I protest as he helps me out of the tent into the sickening brightness of day.
"How else do you expect to get to the washing tent?" he poses back with a wicked smirk, too big for even him.

"Good. Then you can take me there and leave," I stress, shaking his arm off me as two female Naiads in corporeal form help me into the tent where a large basin, the size of a pool is already steaming with warm water.

"You'll have to remove your armor, Milady," the nymph instructs me, already pulling away my leather greaves around my shins.

I blow another heavy sigh, not exactly comfortable stripping in front of these creatures but I suppose this is how things were in Narnia. The nymphs help me undo the rest of my armor and I shed my dark-blue tunic, hesitating before I remove my pants and undershirt leaving me in the bra and panties I was wearing from when I entered Narnia.

"Hang on! I'm supposed to tell you –" Finnick suddenly barges into the tent unannounced.
"FINNICK!" I shriek, one of the nymphs standing in front of me while the other shoes away a shocked and extremely amused Finnick.
"I'm sorry! I didn't know!" he laughs as he's pushed outside.
"MY ASS YOU DIDN'T!" I violently throw one of my vambraces outside the tent, hearing it hit its mark with a grunt from Finnick.

The nymph that escorted Finnick out, ties the tent flap shut while the other brings me to the side of the basin where I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Finnick wasn't kidding when he said there was some bruising...more like the whole right side of my torso is covered in ugly black bruises, the worst of it on my ribs and back while a large bandage covers the right side of my head near my temple, while my face is sickly pale and smeared with dirt and blood much like of the rest of my body. Underneath all that, however, I find some satisfaction in seeing that my body is in the best shape of my life with a toned core and chiseled arms and legs; though, it does little to ease the annoyance of Finnick walking in on me.

Grumbling, I pull off my undergarments and discard the sling around my shoulder before stepping into the gloriously warm water. I've never had another bath in my life that's felt so great as this as I wipe my skin clean of all the dirt, grime, and blood and comb out all the grease from my hair. It doesn't even matter anymore that the nymphs are there. Once I'm clean, the nymphs wrap a large towel around me and I ring my hair out into the basin.

"Milady?" I hear a feminine voice outside the tent.

I nod to the nymphs to let her into the tent and a tall, slender elf comes in bearing a clean set of clothes consisting of a white undershirt and black pants similar to Finnick's.

"We tried to craft something similar to what you wear," she nervously hands me a new pair of underwear and a bra.

I let out a laugh, taking them from her, "Thank you."

She gives me a small curtsy and smile before quickly leaving the tent to let me dress in semi-privacy. I briefly run the towel through my brown locks before putting my arm in the sling and leaving the tent only to be met with a still-grinning Finnick.

A shoot him a dark scowl, punching him in the chest with my good arm.

"Ow!" he laughs, as I hold onto him for support anyway, "I don't know what you're so worked up about. It's not like you're in bad shape or anything...I mean, seriously."

I swing my arm around again to punch him but this time he's expecting it and catches my fist in his hand, "Try that again," he smirks.

"You did it on purpose!" I yell.
"I did no such thing," he defends himself, though, with a twinkle in his eyes, "Though, I can't say I wasn't pleasantly surprised."

I grumble trying hard to ignore the satisfied look on his face, "You're a dirty, rotten, pig. And exactly what was so important that you had to burst into the tent?"

"Ah, yes, well I was supposed to tell you that King Peter wanted to meet with you before we set off for Cair Paravel," he says.
"Good, then help me over there," I order him, trying to push him in that direction but he wouldn't budge.
"Not so fast. You took a little too long in your bath and we're set to leave in just a few minutes," he cheekily says, waiting for my reaction.
"Ass!" I shout, going to punch him again.

Only this time he catches my hand, swinging his arms underneath me and lifting me into the air, a scream escaping my lips.

"You have got to learn to listen," he jokes, hand squeezing my side; this time a squeal of laughter coming from my mouth.

My shrieks of delight echo around the people near us, and I wiggle and kick as much as possible, begging for Finnick to put me down in between my laughs.

"Are you going to listen?" he stops for a moment.
"Yes, yes!" I desperately laugh, feeling him slide me off his shoulder and set me on the ground.

I fall into his chest still slightly laughing as I try to regain my breath.

"Never do that again," I shake my head.
"Or what?" he smirks.
"God, you're annoying," I shake my head with a smile.

The sound of a horn somewhere at the edge of camp sounds and several creatures begin to march forward.

"Looks as if we're heading out," Finnick grabs a pack on the ground, attaching it to the saddle of his black horse.
"What about my stuff?" I frown, looking back at the tent I shared with him.
"Already packed. Now come on," he easily lifts me up by the waist and places me on his horse, swinging himself up behind me, grabbing the reigns.

His closeness is hard to ignore and I'm unable to relax as he charges forward to the front of the procession where we meet up with Aslan and the Pevensies, though, Finnick rides just behind them so I can't get into proper conversation with Peter. Occasionally he glances back at me and smiles, which I return, but I just wish I could ride with him.

"Why can't I ride my own horse?" I whine, trying to adjust myself so I'm not constantly pressed up against Finnick.
"You can't even walk on your own, what makes you think you can steer a bouncing horse?" he scoffs.

An annoyed sigh passes my lips as I realize that he's right; his body stabilizes the jostling the lumbering horse causes. Peter gazes back at me again, seeing the cross look on my face and sends me a sympathetic look.

Finnick's horse suddenly swings to the right, trotting to the back of the line.

"What? Where are we going?" I ask.
"To check on the back of line which is a lot more vulnerable," he simply says and I begin to think we're going to the back just to avoid Peter's watchful eye.