He realized that the missile hurtling towards him was Annie only seconds before they collided. Finnick stumbled back a step, and he worried for an instant that they would both be sent careening off the edge of the docks and into the water, but then her lips were on his, and any semblance of conscious thought was lost.
Her hair, as ever, had largely come undone, and he twisted a song strand of it between his fingers as their mouths moved together. Finnick could feel the warmth of her body through her clothes, and his fingers splayed across her back to soak in more of the sensation. After weeks of separation, this closeness was paradise.
But like all good things, the kiss had to end. Finnick had not realized that he had been holding Annie above the ground until it was time to set her back down. Though the noise of the docks never faded, and the constant jostle of bodies did not slow, at that moment, it was as though the rest of the city had ceased to exist, leaving just him and Annie in a world to themselves. Her cheeks were tinged pink – embarrassment over her very public display, he was certain. Her hand withdrew from where it had been resting on his forearm, but he snatched it back, for he couldn't bear to lose even that small physical connection. She flinched at the gesture, and for the first time, Finnick noticed the worry in her eyes. Fighting the feeling that if he let go, she would be gone for good, he released his grip on her wrist.
Annie bit down on her lower lip and glanced off to the side. He watched her face for any clue to her purpose in coming here. Finnick wanted nothing more than to wipe away the tears he could see developing in the corners of her eyes, but he stopped himself. Finally, she swallowed and looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too." Sorry for not being what her family wanted for her, sorry for wasting her time when she could have been seeing more suitable men…
She put a soft hand on his chest, which jolted him back to reality. "You don't need to be. I never should have judged you based on my parents' reactions."
"And I should have been more accepting when you told me we couldn't see each other any longer. There's no excuse for my actions. I'm sorry."
Annie shook her head. "I would have angry as well, were our roles reversed." At last, his stomach was starting to unclench, and the conversation was beginning to feel natural now, the way it always had before. Easy to open yourself up, that's how Mam had said love felt when he'd once asked her. "Finnick?" She sounded scared, hesitant, the way he never wanted her to be around him.
"Yes?"
"I'd really like to see you again. I don't know how there can be a future for us, I'm not sure it's even possible, but even if it's not, just going back to what we had is enough."
"That's what I want as well." And a thousand times more, but life should have taught him not to wish for the impossible by now. "We can be just as we were before."
"That sounds wonderful." Annie broke eye contact and studied the crowd. Finnick followed her gaze and tried to ignore the pang of jealousy that went through him when her eyes followed one well-muscled, bare-chested man for a moment too long. At least he could pretend her interest was in the dragon tattoos that traces his arms and across his back. But there were others as well: the little old woman who sold meat pies for a penny, the redheaded twin sailors who could pass for mirror images of one another, the cart-driver who never stopped talking to his donkey as it pulled along their load. People who he saw every day but were entirely new to Annie. She looked back towards him and smiled. "It's beautiful here."
His first instinct was to disagree. The docks were a haven for filth. Hundreds of ships from dozens of countries unloaded thousands of people, and they packed themselves together until one could hardly tell whose blood and sweat was whose. Tons of fish, straight from the ocean but already beginning to stink, made it no more pleasant. No, for him, at least, the docks were as far from beautiful as one could get.
But standing here with Annie, Finnick could remember how he had once seen this place, before the years had jaded his view of it. These docks had been his first glimpse of America, and he could still remember finally getting off that filthy ship, clutching Mags' hand tightly as they went down the gangplank together. He'd claimed, back then, that it was so she wouldn't have to worry about falling over. The sights, the sounds, even the smells were so different from back home that fascination had quickly eclipsed his initial fears. "I suppose it is."
The sun was just starting to set over the city, darkening the ocean to a deep violet. Night crept in earlier and earlier every day this time of year, and with it, any respectability that day brought was lost. He supposed he should be grateful that it was not yet winter, when Annie would have to have been home far earlier. "I'll walk you home," he offered, holding out his arm for her to take.
She shook her head. "I told my parents that I was working at Aunt Violet's tonight. They won't expect me back until morning." Still, she looped her arm through his.
"Where are you going to stay tonight, then?"
"Aunt Violet won't care where I've been. I'm certain she'll let me stay the night." Annie glanced around once more. "But, since we've no place to be anytime soon, I don't suppose I could convince you to show me around, could I?"
"Miss Cresta, I imagine there are very few things you couldn't convince me to do for you."
"You were out late." He must be really late if Patrick had noticed. When he was worried, he looked just like Mam. Patrick those same brown eyes, that same wrinkle in the forehead. And he could make Finnick feel every bit as guilty as their mother once had. Really, all of his siblings could.
"Miss me?" How long had it been? It hadn't seemed like long at all with Annie's arm looped through his, but he could not remember now how long ago the sun had set, and they could not have explored so much of the city had it not been several hours.
Patrick snorted. "Enjoyed myself the peace is more like it."
"Are you sure about that?" Finnick asked. "It must be pretty sad to be forced to go without my company for so long." He left his boots next to the door and padded into the room in his socks.
"Oh, it was torture."
This smile always managed to annoy his older brother, so, of course, it was perfect for the situation. "I'm certain."
"Where have you been?" Patrick was certainly trying to sound curious, but Finnick could see that this was far from a casual question, and not answering wasn't an option.
"I'm not fourteen anymore. You don't need to worry about what I've been up to." Even to his own ears, his reply sounded defensive, childish. Finnick wanted to take it back, but he knew Patrick would not allow that to go unnoted. Fair enough; what was done was done, that's what Dad had always said. Personally, Finnick had always preferred his mother's version: you can't rub away words like drawings in the dirt.
"No need for that. Just curious is all." And now far more curious, by the sound of it.
"I saw a friend at the docks and we wandered together for a while."
"Are you still messed up about that girl?" One could always trust Patrick to get to the real matter at hand eventually. Damn him.
"I'm not messed up at all about her. Saw her tonight, actually. Had a lovely time." He wasn't really hungry, but food seemed like an excellent excuse to avoid eye contact with his brother, so Finnick walked over to the pot of soup that they always kept simmering over the fireplace. Peering inside, he realized it was so empty that it could have been licked clean. Funny how that managed to make him more hungry. He glared at Patrick, who had been watching his every movement.
His brother chose not to respond, which, Finnick had to admit, would have been his choice as well under similar circumstances. "So you've been seeing her again?"
"A little." Why was he bothering to answer these questions? Patrick certainly wasn't as forthcoming with information on his love life. Finnick still hadn't managed to wrangle out an admission from him that he was involved with someone, but those late evenings had to be due to something beyond their little family.
"Is she going to treat you better this time 'round? Not decide you aren't good enough for her again?"
"Her family didn't approve. It wasn't her."
"I didn't see her sticking up for you in front of 'em."
"And how do you know she didn't? Best I can remember, you weren't there." True enough, she hadn't, at least not really, but for Annie, Finnick could find a book's worth of excuses. He would have to think for a long while before pursuing a relationship with someone his family disapproved of as well.
"Because people like them don't like us, Finnick. They'd prefer that we hadn't come here, had stayed back in Ireland to starve instead of taking their opportunities by working in the factories where they don't want to. They're too blind to see that we don't want to be 'ere any more than they want us 'ere." His face grew redder and his voice grew louder as his rant continued, and Finnick worried that they'd have angry knocks from the neighbors in just a moment if he didn't quiet down. As much as any of the other tenants would likely agree with the points he'd just made, there did come a time of night when it was best to keep one's voice down.
He nodded, not wanting to provoke an argument that was sure to get loud.
Patrick seemed to take the cue, and he lowered his voice. "You're going to let her hurt you again." A statement, not a question. Pity that even his family thought the outcome so certain.
"It's a definite possibility."
"You know how much I wish I could order you about and make you stop being stupid?"
"You could still try, I suppose, but I don't think you'd be very successful. Your window for that stopped around the time I got taller than you."
"Then I might as well leave you to be run ragged chasing after some American girl who'll never stay interested for long when there are plenty of nice Irish girls who'd be happy to 'ave you."
Finnick nodded. "I was wondering when you'd get there."
"Cheeky bastard."
"What do you think you're doing, showing your face around here?"
Finnick fought the urge to shrink back. Annie had seemed so sure that her aunt would see reason, or at least be empathetic to their situation, that he hadn't worried too terribly much about coming back to the Fox and Face. Reevaluating the situation seemed prudent. "Good evening, ma'am." It sounded like as good a way as any to start this conversation. "Annie told me a few days ago that she was working tonight and invited me to come and keep her company."
"Yes, let's talk about that." The woman pointed to a seat, and Finnick wasted no time in sitting down. The man next to him paused with his mug halfway to his lips, got a good look at Violet Jennings, and got up to find another spot. Finnick silently wished him luck – it'd be quite the task in the solid mass of bodies. Violet did not take the seat next to him, instead standing before him with her arms crossed over her chest. "Now, explain to me again what it is that you're doing here."
"Annie gave me permission to come and see her tonight, so I came. I'm happy to help with cleaning up and such if that'd be of use, and –"
The woman shook her head. "Not what I meant. Tell me why you're interested in spending more time with my niece."
"She's smart, she's pretty, she's kind –"
"And not a litany of her better qualities."
Finnick finally grasped what she was looking for. "Because I'd like to spend rather a lot more time with her."
"Say the words."
"I'd like to marry her someday." The more Finnick thought about the possibility, the more pleasant it sounded. It was all too easy to become lost in the daydream of watching Annie repeat the wedding vows after Father James, of having her there, waiting for him, after a day on the boats…
"Good to hear." Violet smiled, and Finnick wanted to pause to soak up that approval, but she would not have lasted long around this crowd if she went so easy on others. "Now, words are very nice and all, but how are you going to show that you mean them?"
"I don't follow." Surely the woman wasn't asking him to propose tonight? Annie might say yes – he hoped she would, in any case – but she'd never go through with it. Not with her family still disapproving of the match. Though he might want to ask, for it would cement what she wanted, and if he knew that she was willing to spend the rest of her life with him, he would know that she ached for him as he did for her.
Violet shook her head. "Boy, someday, you'll want to learn to keep your emotions off your face. You're far too easy to read. No, I'll have none of that here. What I want you to do is show me something that proves to me that you're interest in Annie goes beyond another notch in your bedpost." She quickly stepped back from that statement. "Not that I think you'd be getting any of that out of my Annie, she's a good girl, but you understand."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Think about it, Finnick. I don't have anything in mind, but when it's over, I want to have no doubts that you have only the purest of intentions towards my niece. Convince me of that, and you won't see me standing in the way of you two." She clapped him on the shoulder. "I think I've left you with enough to think about for the evening. Annie's in the back room. Don't distract her too much from her work, or I'll have your hide for it."
It was difficult to wait for her to move out of the way before he pushed through the crowd towards the Fox and Face's kitchen.
