Author's Note: Thanks so much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! I really appreciate it. I loved hearing everyone's ideas on the casting of Finnick and Annie. It's interesting to hear who other fans picture as the characters. I still don't own the Hunger Games...nor do I own the quote I used in this chapter (it's from Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie). Also, this will probably be my last post for the next week or so, because I have a family reunion that will keep me busy...but don't worry, I won't forget about this story! And hopefully when I return I'll have lots of updates for you all. Enjoy!

I find Annie alone in a corner of the tributes' waiting room, twirling around and around in her mermaid dress, her skirt spinning out to reveal her tiny feet, which are encased in delicate blue high heels that look like they are made entirely of glass. The fabric that composes the tail of the gown flares out around Annie's heels in a cascade of blues and greens and sparkles.

The Careers, already sitting together and undoubtedly planning for the arena, are watching Annie with undisguised mirth, rolling their eyes at her and muttering amongst themselves. I abruptly wish she would stop spinning. It's making her look like a simple little girl again. And the Careers don't need another reason to see her as easy prey.

"Annie."

She stops twirling, stumbling in her heels and looking around the room dizzily until she locates me. I suddenly wonder what I am going to say to her. Why did I come down here, exactly?

The eyes of every tribute in the room turn to me. But I'm certainly no stranger to being ogled at.

"Hi!" Annie laughs nervously and wobbles on her heels as she walks over to me. Her cheeks are flushed from so much turning. When she comes closer, I can't help but notice how the sea-colored dress makes her eyes shine brighter than all the Capitol's neon lights.

'Hey, mermaid. Good job."

"Really?" She does not meet my gaze, staring at the ground and chewing on her lower lip in a way that really, really bothers me. I wish my heart would stop trying to sporadically jump out of my chest. Maybe I'm developing hyperactivity or something.

"Really. You did great, Annie. They love you."

I want to swallow the words the instant they come out of my mouth. Both of us know that love and the Capitol do not coexist. Annie shakes her head. "No," she tells me, her voice low. "They love you."

No, they lust after me – but I decide not to explain the difference to Annie. I'm not starting such an incredibly awkward conversation the night before she goes into the arena.

Annie's big eyes dim noticeably, narrowing anxiously as she notices the Career clique whispering together.

"Come on," I tell her, taking her by the elbow and leading her towards the exit. "Let's go back. You need to rest."

She balks when I touch her, but allows me to guide her out of the room.

Far before Mags and Curtis return in the wake of an exuberant Lydia Frill and the District Four preps and stylists, Annie and I are back in the conference room on the fourth floor, drinking hot chocolate and watching the flickering lights of the Capitol pulse and shine outside the window.

I am incredibly hungry, and I down my drink in two large gulps. Annie sips hers daintily, but still manages to get chocolate on the tip of her nose. I've never seen anything more adorable.

I lick my finger and lean in. "Annie, you've got –" She looks confused as I wipe the chocolate off, then pulls away, flushing in embarrassment.

"Oh. S-sorry." She swipes at her face, smearing the makeup around her eyes.

"Annie, it's okay." I notice that her hands are trembling so violently that she is in danger of dropping her mug on the floor. I reach over and take the drink from her, setting it down safely out of the way. "Settle down, Annie. Please." What is she so afraid of? And then a terrible thought hits me. "I'm not going to hurt you, Annie. It's alright."

She looks at me for a long time, finally nodding slowly. I can only hope she truly believes me.

"I…I missed it." Her voice is indescribably sad as she stares out the huge glass window.

"What? What did you miss? The Games don't start until tomorrow –"

"No. The sunset. I missed…my last sunset."

My throat tightens. I know exactly how she feels. I can recall all too well the awful finality of everything I experienced at this point before my Games – the dreadful knowledge that each insignificant daily event could be my last. Last shower, last decent meal, last night's sleep in a warm bed, last sunrise. Last sunset.

"Don't think that way. Think like a victor. You'll have lots more sunsets, when you come back from the Games. Right?"

She shudders and picks at the sequins on the hem of her dress. I realize that it's not me she is scared of. At least not right now. She has far more dreadful fears to haunt her dreams tonight.

I am abruptly filled with a desperate feeling of panic, not unlike the one that seized me the night before my own blood-soaked Hunger Games debut. I lean forward, my eyes boring into the girl's ducked head, urging her to listen to me. "You've got to fight, Annie. No more mermaid stories. You can't refuse to kill. There are no rules in the arena. It's nothing but a battle for survival. And if you don't go in there thinking of yourself and only yourself –"

A tremor runs through her small body, and Annie grows very, very still. And then the door burst open and the rest of our team enters, leaving the rest of our conversation hanging in the dismal air, forever unsaid.

Lydia finishes gushing over Curtis, then spends the next twenty minutes praising me, as though I was a tribute who just gave an interview. Mags pulls Annie into a hug and tugs on her hair. Annie manages to return the old woman's affection with a half-hearted grin, then spends the rest of the evening sitting quietly on the couch close to Cinna, helping him shred a spool of lace and eating all the green candies out of a bowl of sweets, while the rest of the preps and stylists toast to their own (somewhat questionable, in my not-so-humble opinion) talents.

Finally, Mags breaks up the impromptu party with a gentle yet decisive, "Time to sleep." Curtis and Annie stand up instantly. Both of them manage to look simultaneously relieved and distraught – though Curtis does a much better job of hiding his nerves beneath his wicked smile.

Cinna gets up, too. "I'll help you with your dress, little Annie."

Annie shakes her head, fingering the soft fabric. "Can I…wear it, still?" She smiles uncertainly at Cinna. In the dim light, his gold eyeliner makes his pupils gleam like a cat's.

"Of course. I'll get it from you tomorrow."

He holds out his arms to her, and she runs into them. She seems relieved when he tells her that he'll be with her up until she gets into the launch tube that will take her up to the arena. Mags pats Annie on the back while the girl stammers out a rather incomprehensible thank-you. Curtis, apparently bored by all the tearful goodbyes, stretches loudly, popping the joints in his arms.

"See you after the bloodbath, Crazy," he tells Annie, a malicious grin spreading across his face. "If you make it 'til then."

Annie trips over the skirts of her gown in her rush to get as far away from Curtis as she can. Face pale and mouth drawn tightly, she practically flies down the hall and into her room.

Eventually I drift away from the others and head to my own quarters, for once not having any clients to service. I try not to be offended by the fact that Annie didn't say goodbye to me – after all, I was a tribute once, too, and I know the amount of stress she is under right now. But I spend the whole night tossing and turning in bed, unable to drift off to sleep.

It is half past four when I sit up, pull on a pair of faded grey sweatpants that Grommett would burn if ever he laid eyes on them, and decisively slip the rope bracelet off my wrist.

I open the door – and let out a weird sort of strangled cry, surprised to find Annie standing directly on the other side, her hand raised to knock.

She starts, and for a minute, we both stare at each other – two pairs of sleepless eyes meeting in the pre-Games darkness. "God, Annie," I say, trying to cover up my shock. "What are you doing here?"

"I…I just…" She starts mumbling, but I can't tell if it is because she is exhausted, or because she is anxious, or maybe even because I forgot to put on a shirt. Again.

I take in her rumpled mermaid dress, her tired eyes, her messy hair. "Couldn't sleep?"

She nods wearily.

"Well, come on then. You need to try to get some rest."

I lead her back to the fountain room that she seemed to enjoy before, thinking that at least the enormous glass windows there will let her get a good view of the morning sunrise, and she practically collapses onto a bench. I sit down beside her, breathing in the fragrant scent of flowers and earth that fills the small garden.

Annie watches the fountain tumble down into the little pool below. "Mr. Finnick?" she asks me.

"Yes?"

"You aren't asleep."

"No." I give her a small smile. "Neither are you."

"I was doing things." She holds out a sealed envelope with the name "Cinna" written across the front in a precise flourish. "Can you give this to Cinna, Mr. Finnick? When…when it's clear that I'm…you know. Not coming back?"

I take the envelope and put it in my pocket. I don't trust myself to speak. I'm afraid I'll start yelling, or demand to know why she didn't write me a letter, too. And the last thing she needs right now is to feel guilty about bruising Finnick Odair's abnormally large ego.

"Mr. Finnick?" Annie is looking up at me. Her face is clean, natural, washed of the makeup she was wearing earlier. I think she looks better this way. More like herself. "This…this is for…f-for you." She gnaws her bottom lip as she holds out a thin package wrapped in tissue paper. "I…I just want to thank you. For all the training, and for being my mentor, and for buying my f-flowers, and…and being nice to me. So…thank you." She looks down at her bare feet and falls silent.

I still don't trust myself to speak. I feel my throat threatening to close up again as I take the gift and carefully open it.

Annie has made me a bookmark – a pretty, delicate rectangle decorated with scraps of lace and silky ribbons, pressed flowers (but no roses) and shapes cut out of artistically folded paper. On the back, written in her careful, flowing script, are the words:

"Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting." ~Peter Pan

I finally tear my gaze away from the gift, realizing that Annie must be waiting for me to respond. My mother would be mortified at my rudeness. If she were alive to reprimand me, that is. "Thank you." My voice comes out unnaturally rough. "This is beautiful."

Annie blushes and shakes her head. "It's not very much –"

"It's perfect." I run my fingers over the lace edges of the bookmark. I can't remember the last time someone gave me a real gift. Not payment for services rendered, not a secret in exchange for the use of my body, but a present, pure and simple, with no strings attached. She has no idea how beautiful this bookmark is to me.

"Annie, do you have a District token?" I'm pretty sure I already know the answer, even before she shakes her head to confirm it. "Here, mermaid. Will you wear this in the arena? For me?" I hold out my bracelet, and she looks – well, surprised does not even begin to describe it.

"But…but…your mother…" she stammers, confused.

"My mother would want you to have it. I want you to have it. Please."

She nods and allows me to tie the bracelet around her wrist. I am once again struck by just how tiny her hands are. No one this small should be anywhere near the Hunger Games.

"There," I say, pulling the knot tight. "It won't fall off."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Finnick!" She runs her fingers over the well-worn rope, inordinately pleased. "I've never had any jewelry before…Now I really am just like the mermaid princess!"

"Annie…" But I don't know what I want to say. I realize that my hand is tingling, and I look down to find that I am still holding Annie's hand tightly in my own. "Annie, I…" Her huge eyes blink up at me, curious, waiting for me to continue. But I can't.

And the rising sun streaming through the windows reminds me that I don't have any more time to waste.

I reach out and enfold Annie in my arms, pulling her little body flush against mine, stroking her back and breathing in the salty sea smell of her skin. For a moment, she is stiff as stone, but then she relaxes, melting into me and bringing both her arms around my neck, clinging to me as though her life depends on it, her head coming to rest against my bare chest, infusing my entire body with her incredible warmth. We remain wrapped up in each other, not speaking, barely even breathing, Annie memorizing the sunrise and me memorizing the comforting feel of her, until Cinna announces his presence by subtly clearing his throat.

I slowly untangle us, brush a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, and reluctantly tell her that it is time for her to go. I watch her carefully, ready to wipe away any falling tears, but though her eyes shimmer, she does not cry. "Maybe…" she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Maybe…it's okay. I'll see you again. In h-heaven."

I decide not to remind her that even if there is a heaven, it's the last place I'm going to end up, after everything I've done. Instead, I take both her hands in mine and squeeze them tightly. "I'll never forget you, Annie. Never."

I give her one last brief hug before Cinna leads her away.

I am still clutching the bookmark when I head up to the mentor's control room a few hours later, almost entirely oblivious to everything but the crisp, silky paper in my hand and the icy coldness that has chilled my body since Annie was torn out of my arms.

I snap to attention only when the screen in front of me flickers to life, revealing twenty-four tributes arranged in a circle around the Cornucopia, and the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith rings out in the sudden silence. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the 70th Hunger Games begin!"