September 1859
She made it through the first night without crying. The second, she could feel her defenses crumbling, but she managed to hold fast. By the third, all she can do is be quiet enough to not wake Georgia. Every night thereon went largely the same. Her shoulders would shake, and her pillow would be damp with tears by the time she managed to coax herself asleep, but nobody else discovered her.
That is, until her first Monday night at the Fox and Face without Finnick in what felt like years. The entire night was hard, but she managed to keep herself in one piece until all the patrons had staggered out. Violet had already sent Johanna and Cecelia home when she found Annie in the back room with a pile of dirty dishes still left to wash, her knees pulled up to her chest and crying. "Oh, dear." Violet came to sit down next to Annie. "Why are we crying?"
"I feel terrible, and I know that I have no right to," she said as she wiped a tear away with the back of her hand. She didn't care that it was far from an attractive gesture or that her nose had begun to drip along with her tears.
Aunt Violet gathered Annie up in her arms and brought the young woman down so that her head was rested against her aunt's chest. "And why is that, dear?"
"I'm the one who told him to leave me alone, to never speak to me again. He apologized to me, and I treated him terribly."
"I'm certain it was not as bad as you make it out to be."
"But it was! I stood there and told him that I never wanted to see him again, and he looked so broken, like a little boy, but I couldn't back down. I told him again, and still he didn't argue or scream, he just told me that he loved me and that the only reason he would ever leave me be is me asking for it." She was acting like a child, crying over an opportunity she herself had spoiled, but Annie could not bring herself to act like the grown woman she was. It was so much easier to play the child and hope that the adults around her would tidy the mess she had made.
Aunt Violet, though, had never been terribly tolerant of messy children. "If you keep allowing yourself to be miserable over this, you'll never stop," she said.
Annie looked up at her, her eyes questioning. "If you wallow in your misery and self-pity forever, you will never be able to see the good things around you. You had a life before Finnick, and none of that has ended. If you have decided that you are never going to see him again, and you are the one who needs to decide this, you have to go back to your life before him and live it."
"And what if I do want to see him again?" It should not have been her response, Annie knew that, but still, the words popped from her, unbidden. She did not realize just how true they were until she had already spoken.
Violet sighed and leaned back into her seat. "Well, then, dear, I think you might have burned all your bridges."
She should have expected that response, but that didn't make it hurt any less. "You think he'll never want to see me again."
"Would you blame him if he didn't?" Violet left a pause for her to respond, but Annie could think of no retort. She wasn't sure that one existed. One simply didn't trivialize months of courting, the possibility of a future together, all dashed to nothingness by a promise to never see each other again. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again, but Annie fought to keep them back. She would find no pity here, and she knew she wouldn't' have deserved it even if it were offered. "You told him to stay away, and for the last week, that's exactly what he's done, even though I'm sure it's killing him to do so. You picked yourself a good one there. I can see that, your father and sister see that, and deep down, I think your mother can as well."
"But we can't be together. She won't allow it." No matter what Violet said, she could not cure the root of Annie's problem. She was not a fairy godmother with a wand that could make her mother's worries disappear with little more than a wave and a poof of light. Annie had to smile at the thought. Yes, more than ever, she could use such a fairy godmother. Surely, she couldn't make things worse. Eventually, Annie realized that Violet had fallen silent for far too long. She forced herself to sit up straight, ladylike, and look towards her aunt. "Are you all right?" she asked.
The woman gave her a distracted nod, and then something changed in her face. She took a long, steadying breath before she turned herself ever so slightly towards Annie. "Let me tell you a story not so different from your own," she began. "Remember, as hard as it may be to imagine a fat old lady like myself ever having a suitor, that I was once twenty and beautiful, just as you are now."
"I don't find that hard to believe at all," Annie defended herself.
Violet waved off her concern. "Of course you don't. You're too much of a dear to ever admit to such a thing. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I had a suitor once. I thought we suited each other quite well – he was handsome and as smart as they came. I was sure it was love."
"Was it?" Annie asked. She had never heard of Aunt Violet ever having a suitor, though she supposed she shouldn't be so surprised. Her mother was unlikely to mention anything of the sort, and Violet seemed to think it a painful memory best left alone except as a learning exercise for her niece. It was strange, thinking of Violet as being like her, and though of course she knew that her aunt had once been a young woman, it was hard to picture her as anything less than the force of nature she had become.
Violet thought for a moment before replying. "I think it could have been, though I'll never know, of course. We weren't in love yet, but I think it could have grown into something more. My parents, though, did not want to see that happen. His family had ties to some less than savory members of the criminal class, and they wouldn't see their daughter marrying into that sort of family. I knew better, that Haymitch would never do such a thing, but I could see some of the wisdom in their decision."
Annie wanted to let her aunt continue talking, but she couldn't let the moment pass without a few questions. "You did what I did?"
She nodded. "Yes, almost exactly. I told him that we had to be finished, that he was no longer a welcome visitor in the Jenkins household, but he had a far worse reaction than the one you described from Finnick. He accused me of never having loved him, of only toying with him while I searched for someone better, someone who could lift me further up the social ladder or provide me with a more comfortable life, and I screamed back at him. Neither of us could approach the situation as adults, and I told him at the end that I never wanted to see him again, that if he came to my door again, I would not stop Father from grabbing his gun or Grandpa's old sword from the war and giving him a quick slice or two." Violet shook her head at the memory. "Oh, that man. He never seemed to learn when to stop. Hasn't helped him any in the years since, either."
A thought tickled at the back of her mind. "Haymitch? Haymitch Abernathy, the one who's always here?"
"Now you realize the depth of my naiveté," Violet said, nodding.
Haymitch Abernathy, the dark-haired drunk who came in every night a few minutes after open and stayed until Violet forced him out. The man who could drink even Brutus under the table and who, she had heard straight from his mouth, had never met a glass of whiskey he didn't like. Annie wasn't sure that there was ever a moment the man was truly sober. She let out a shaky laugh. "Well, he didn't do a very good job of staying away, now did he?"
"No, he didn't." Violet rubbed at her left eye with the back of her hand, and Annie suspected that the motion was more inspired by the very beginnings of tears rather than a sudden itch. "I think he planned to, though, for I didn't see him for years after that. Then, one day, without any warning whatsoever, this drunk stumbles in after his credit ran out at his old favorite haunt, and he happened to know my name."
"You didn't recognize him right away?" she asked, surprised.
"I hadn't been expecting him and had no idea what he'd been through those last few years. I think it had been, well," she could almost see Aunt Violet ticking through the years in her mind "eight years, maybe more like nine? I don't think either of us was planning on ever seeing the other again, but after so long, we could be comfortable in the same room again."
"You couldn't before?"
"Not in the same way. All those feelings that I'd felt as a younger woman could finally be pushed aside. I knew now that no matter how wrong my parents' decision had felt when I was twenty, it had been the right one. I don't mind a bit of drink, as you must know, after all I wouldn't have lasted long here without being rather tolerant, but I couldn't go through life married to a drunk. For me, it was the right decision."
Aunt Violet sounded so sure of herself, of the choice she had made, but Annie could not bring herself to believe that this was right, that her situation would be so similar. "I don't think Finnick will turn into a drunk."
The other woman laughed. "I had no intention of suggesting that. I was merely trying to get you to think of things a bit more deeply than most girls your age would, more deeply than I had."
"Mother says a woman's life is incomplete without a husband and children." There they were, the very words that Annie had been raised on. Whenever she thought about them, her future seemed so very simple. It was like the equations her teacher had put on the chalkboard during arithmetic lessons. If one started with a woman, then added a husband and a child, they would receive a far happier woman; it was simply how the world worked. Aunt Violet, however, had always challenged that simple formula. If anything, her mother's sister seemed more carefree, more open, more loving, and dare Annie put it to words, more happy that Martha Cresta could ever hope to be.
"Now, Annette, I'd always thought you smarter than that. Do you really believe that my sister, bless her heart, has any idea what makes people happy?" Oh dear, she couldn't stop herself from laughing. It was terrible, she knew that, but Aunt Violet so rarely actually came out and said anything against her too-serious older sister, and Annie had too many pent-up emotions for anything else to happen. She was coughing on her own laughter, and Violet only shook her head nad stood up. "You, child, are going to be the death of me. If you breathe a word of this to Martha, you know I'll have your head for it."
Annie knew it wasn't that funny, but she couldn't stop herself from laughing for long enough to respond.
October 1859
Later that night, Violet had suggested that she give herself one month of learning to live without Finnick, and Annie had agreed. The words she had used against him were powerful, and they could not be taken back lightly. She needed at least to try to go back to her old life before she dared to contact him again. She expected it to be hard, but Annie had not realized the depth to which Finnick had touched every aspect of her life. Her chores seemed ever longer, more menial, without the thought of seeing him that night or the next to cheer her along. Those tallies in her stolen ledger sheet no longer added up, and for now, they seemed like little more than reminders that her life was passing without a purpose. He shouldn't be her purpose, like Aunt Violet said, there was far more to live for than just a man, but she saw no other reason, so she made them up for herself. She got up every morning for the flowers that her mother grew in their window boxes and went to bed every night for the starlight that filtered in through her blinds. Georgia's teasing and the taste of bread with butter at dinnertime got her through the daytime hours. For the first time since that fateful conversation with Finnick, she could be truly happy.
Still, something was missing, and those last few days of the month, she would find herself counting the hours, minutes even, until she could see him again. She allowed herself to consider the possibility that he might not want to see her, that his feelings might still be so hurt by her betrayal that he wouldn't even want to set eyes on her, but in her heart of hearts, Annie believed that he would be as relieved as she to be reunited.
The fourteenth of the month passed without catastrophe, and her wait was over. After waiting so long, she had half-expected that something would go wrong, but to everyone else, this date held no real significance. Finally, she could set the last step of her plan into action. Just as she would any other Thursday, she said goodbye to her mother and said she would be home early the next morning. She hadn't discussed this with Aunt Violet, and the other woman had no idea that she had said that she was going to be working at the Fox and Face that night, but with any luck, she would not mind too much when Annie showed up at her house and asked to stay the night. Annie knew there was no way she would escape her mother's grip tonight.
She left a bit early – after all, she wasn't headed to the Fox and Face, and if she remembered Finnick's schedule correctly, he should still be out on the boats, but not for long. She couldn't risk missing him, even if it did make her mother wonder why she was in such a hurry to go to work.
Annie kept her head held high as she walked through New York's crowded streets. It wouldn't do to look like she had no purpose or real understanding of where she was going, for that would only serve as a sign for the less savory types that a big city attracted to come pay her some unwanted attentions. The docks were far from the safest place for a woman alone.
Nobody bothered her as she pushed her way through the crowds that cluttered the streets. A man in her way there, a woman holding two screaming infants there, none of them mattered right now. She could not help but awe at the cacophony of sights and sounds and smells around her. One would think that after a lifetime of experiencing everything that New York had to offer, she would be accustomed to strangeness, but Annie still found herself drinking up everything new. She could appreciate Finnick's understanding of the world's new wonders as potentially dangerous, threats to be considered rather than moments to be savored, but it was not a view she could ever take to heart for herself. The old Chinese men who argued in a language she couldn't understand over the fish before them fascinated her, as did the bared chests of the young men who carried the catch from the boats to the merchants' carts to be taken away for sale. She stayed and watched both of them for a long moment, trying to decide where to go next. Annie knew what her next step had to be finding Finnick, but where to start? She supposed there was no easier way than to ask. It took her a few moments to find someone with few enough tattoos and enough teeth to be deemed nonthreatening. "Excuse me," she began, and the old, weathered man with his white hair pulled back in a bun at the back of his head looked up at her as though she was the curious one here. Well, Annie thought, judging by the other characters that frequented these docks, perhaps she was. She brushed the thought aside. "Excuse me, do you know where the Syrena is docked?"
He stared at her for a moment before he muttered something unintelligible and turned away. "No, please help me. I have a friend who I really must see on that ship. Do you know where I might find it?" She couldn't stop a hint of desperation from creeping into her voice. It had been so long since she had last seen Finnick, and she thought about him all the time, and she was so close to seeing him again, and –
"Ching here don't speak English, girl. You'd have better luck with me." Lecherous, absolutely lecherous, was the only way she could describe the grin this man gave her. Annie backed away when he reached for her hand. "Come on, darling, don't you want to find your friend?" Again, he moved towards her, and she took another step back. Heaven help her if she slipped on a pile of chum or anything of the sort, but she would not let that man touch her. Then, she remembered what her aunt had told her so many times before about living in the city: as long as you look confident, very few people will try to take advantage. After all, everybody who looked like they had anything more than the faintest grasp on what was happening was likely only pretending.
She squared her shoulders and raised herself up to her not-terribly-impressive full height. "Excuse me, I think I see him over there. I suggest you go off. I don't imagine he'll appreciate seeing you around me, and I would guess that he outweighs you by at least a good forty pounds." Most of that was even true – this fellow couldn't take Finnick on the best of days. Of course, that didn't mean that Finnick was actually anywhere nearby or that the man would take the hint and get lost. She could not be done yet. She added just a hint of concern to her voice. "Please, do get out of here. I don't want him to get angry and get himself in trouble."
Aid came from an unexpected source in the form of poor Ching. He babbled something at the man and raised his eyebrows in a way that was almost comical. Annie had to stop a giggle as the man paled and didn't even look over his shoulder before he scampered away, blending into the crowd as quickly as he had emerged. "Thank you," she said to Ching, smiling.
He smiled back at her and came out from behind his stall. He couldn't have been more than an inch or two taller than her, and he moved with a stiffness to his joints that suggested arthritis or some other malady of the elderly, so she doubted that he offered any real protection against any dangers she might come across, but just that she was with someone else who seemed safe made her feel far more certain about her choices this afternoon. The docks were indeed no place for a woman alone. That much, she would have to remember for the future. Though, if everything went according to plan, she would never have to come down here again. Finnick would be coming back for her, just as anxious and eager as he had been for those beautiful weeks before she had gone and wrecked everything. She forced herself not to think of that. It wouldn't do any good to dwell on what could still very well go wrong. Ching, luckily, seemed to have some idea of where he was going, though considering that Annie still had not heard him speak a word of English, she didn't know how comforting that should or shouldn't be. Still, she followed him. After all, she had nothing else better to do.
It seemed that the old man did indeed have a very good idea of where he was going and what he needed to accomplish, for he led Annie to a younger man that looked like he could someday grow into Mr. Ching. He garbled something to the man, who must be his son, and the man looked towards Annie. "My father tells me you're looking for someone. Can I help you find him?"
Thank heavens. She had started to worry that she would never find Finnick, that she would be trapped on these God-forsaken docks forever as she struggled to find some way back to civilization. "Yes, thank you. My friend's name is Finnick O'Daire, and he works on the Syrena, one of the fishing boats. I would very much appreciate it if you could at least point me in the right direction."
He nodded at her and said something to his father, and before she knew it, Annie was being pulled along again. "You know Finnick?" she asked, forgetting yet again that he didn't speak English.
She gazed at each and every one of the boats they passed by on their way, marveling at their size and the odd majesty they had about them. Annie had always enjoyed those rare days when her father would take her out to look out over the harbor and see the yachts and rowboats that glided through the waters that surrounded the island. No matter how coated they were with grime or how strongly they reeked of fish, she still admired them. Ching, however, kept her moving through the crowd of jostling men. Annie realized that she ought to be looking for one very specific head of bronze hair.
Eventually, she saw the word Syrena etched into the side of one of the boats, and Ching let go of her hand. "Thank you so much," she said. "I don't know what I would have done without –" A very familiar-looking back and head of bronze hair stole her attention from her thanks. She didn't realize she was running until her scream of "Finnick!" came out more winded than it really ever should have. This wasn't appropriate, wasn't dignified, wasn't anything she had been taught that a young lady should be, but still, there she was, hitching her skirts up just an inch or two so she wouldn't trip over them as she sprinted towards the man she had ordered to stay away from her forever. Her heart sang a little happy song when a smile broke out across his features and she saw his lips form her name, and then she was on top of him, knocking him back a step as she flung herself into his arms. Annie had never kissed man before, at least not on the lips, but she was nestled in his arms now, and it only seemed right to use the added height that she had from being cradled in his arms to kiss him. She wasn't sure if there was any technique that went into this, and certainly if there was, hers would be a disappointment, but his lips were firm and soft and just ever so lovely that she never wanted to break apart from him.
Still, all moments, especially the best, must come to an end, and he eventually moved his lips away from hers and moved to meet her eyes, still not dropping her back to the ground. "You came back."
This was what she had been dreading. Annie searched his eyes for any hint of whether he was relieved or angry, but she could find no clues there. "Yes," she admitted. Here, honesty would be essential. "I realized that I couldn't bear to be away from you for so long."
A slight smile peeked through his features. "Forever is a very long time." He slowly lowered her back to the ground, but he kept hold of her hand. She never wanted for him to let go.
"Finnick, I decided that I don't care what my mother and father think of us. I just want to be with you." She paused for a moment to collect herself, then stared straight into his eyes. "I hope you can forgive me for what I did to you. I was wrong, and I wish I could take it back, but I know I can't. I don't know how we can be together, but it's all I want."
A/N: Thanks for reading! I thought I'd check in on how the story's been going. I'm so sorry that I didn't update for so long - other projects and some indecision regarding some plot points were getting in the way. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to play around in this universe.
That brings me to something that came up in a recent review. This story will not cover the Civil War proper, though it does cover the period leading right up to it. I do have a sequel stewing in my brain that would cover that era, and I'd love to know if any of you would be interested in reading it. In any case, Once, the Stars Aligned is only half done, so there's a long time before any real details of that need to be ironed out. Again, thank you so much for reading. It's lovely to see that people are interested in what I'm working on.