Tired, sweaty, and muddy, the soldiers in Group A13 trooped into the cement-gray briefing room. Finnick groaned and slumped into the nearest plastic chair. "God, I can't feel my feet."

"Call yourself lucky," grumbled Gale, stepping over Finnick's feet to fall into the chair next to him. "Hey, Rhodey, didja miss the schoolbus?"

Rhodey tripped over Gale's outstretched leg, caught himself, and cursed. "Hey, watch your mouth," Finnick called after the scrappy redhead. "Or do you want us to get Grandma to wash it out for you?"

Rhodey's retort was lost in the noise of people finding their seats and Sergeant Well's yell of "Sit down and shut up, everyone!" Eventually, the noise died down.

"Right." Sergeant Well glared at them, a short, dumpy woman with cropped gray hair. "A new executive order was issued just this morning. In four weeks, two full divisions will be deployed to attack the Capitol."

There was a stunned silence. Finnick and Gale shot each other apprehensive glances as Sergeant Well continued talking. "We are joining with Groups A14 and 15 to form the 5th Company. Accelerated training begins tomorrow. You'll get more details later. You are dismissed!"

Finnick and Gale stood with everyone else, prepared to leave and discuss this newest order immediately, but Sergeant Well called, "Hawthorne! Odair! Report up front!"

Gale grimaced and began to work his way through the departing crowd. Finnick followed with a grim look on his face. Whatever this was, it sure as hell wasn't going to be good…

When Finnick reached the front, he was surprised to see Boggs standing next to Sergeant Well. "Sir," he said, nodding.

Boggs returned the gesture. "Soldier Odair," he said evenly. "Soldier Hawthorne." There was a slight awkward pause, and then he continued, "I'm sure you two are in no doubt that you are some of the major players in this game – well, in the public's eye, anyway," he amended, seeing the wry twist of Finnick's mouth. "So it follows that you're not going to be buried in the middle of some division." His blue eyes flicked from Gale to Finnick, gauging their reactions. "You two are being sent to Squad 451. It's a special sharpshooter unit."

Gale's eyebrows twitched up. "Sharpshooter?"

Boggs nodded. "We've got soldiers taking down Peacekeepers and securing the area around the Capitol right now, but getting in is going to be a lot more delicate. We want minimum civilian casualties, which means no air strikes, no mass bombings. I've tapes of both of you in training. You're some of the best shots we've got who are fit to fight."

Finnick didn't miss Gale's convulsive start. "Katniss – " he blurted.

"Katniss is fine," said Boggs. "But I don't think she's attended a single training session since she arrived, and I'm sure you know as well as anyone that when it comes to following orders, she's terrible."

Gale was having a hard time choosing between being offended and relieved. Finnick glanced at him before asking, "Who else is in this…Squad 451?"

"I'm leading," said Boggs. "Soldier Jackson is second-in-command. I'll pick the others during training, see who's up to par."

"Then, are we still doing – "

"Accelerated training? You bet your boots you are," said Sergeant Well. "Your schedules have already been updated. Get some rest tonight, because you two are reporting tomorrow morning at 5:30."

Finnick stifled a groan. Boggs' eyes twinkled understandingly as he said, "Any other questions?"

Gale shook his head. "Right, then," said Boggs, nodding to them. "Sergeant…Soldiers."

Finnick and Gale saluted as he left. "Right, dismissed," said Sergeant Wells.

They turned and walked out of the rudimentary concrete structure, out under an evening sky covered with bruise-colored clouds. Finnick, glancing at Gale, saw he was tense with suppressed excitement.

"This is it," Gale hissed between his teeth as they lowered themselves through the trapdoor, down into the industrial hallway. "This is it! We're going to the Capitol!"

"Yeah." Somehow, Finnick couldn't find the appropriate enthusiasm within him. After all, he had a very good reason for not wanting to leave Thirteen…

"Sh-t." Finnick stopped dead in his tracks. Gale continued for a couple paces before realizing Finnick had halted and turned to look at him.

"Finnick?"

Finnick stared at him, wide-eyed. "What am I going to say to Annie?" he whispered.

Gale opened his mouth to answer but stopped, stuck. "I – " He paused, ran his hands through his hair, and tried again. "Just – " He broke off, shook his head. "I have no idea," he said finally, giving up.

"Sh-t," said Finnick, walking again. "Sh-tsh-tdoublesh-t – "

"Hey, it's not all bad," said Gale. The tense energy was back in his voice. "You realize this means we get a crack at Snow?"

Finnick turned his head to look at him so sharply his neck cracked. "You think?" he asked, voice constricted.

Gale shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Looks like it," he said, voice falsely nonchalant. "Why else would they want the best shots in the army?"

A nervous thrill ran up Finnick's back. "If I get him…" he breathed, feeling an almost visceral pleasure at the thought of Snow lying on his back, dead, with bloody flowers blossoming from the punctured fabric on his chest…

Gale clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "That's the spirit."

The door to Compartment 3014 slid open and Finnick staggered over the threshold. Annie sprang up from the bed, running to hug him. "Finnick!"

"Hey, mermaid," said Finnick wearily, hugging her back. "How was your day?"

"Good," said Annie. She looked up at him. "How was accelerated training?"

Finnick groaned and pulled away from her to hobble over to the bed and sit on it. Annie pursed her lips, eyebrows pulled up sympathetically. "Aren't you getting used to it?"

Shaking his head, Finnick pulled his combat boots off with a wince. "In a gazillion years, maybe," he said. He rolled his shoulders back and hissed in pain as the movement stretched the aching muscles in his deltoid and trapezius muscles.

"Here." Annie moved to kneel behind him on the bed. "Take your shirt off."

Finnick complied. Annie's hands began to massage his shoulders, kneading the sore muscles. Sighing with relief, Finnick relaxed, feeling the tight knots in his back and shoulders slowly melt away under Annie's hands. "Better?" she asked.

"Yeah, loads better," said Finnick. "Thanks, mermaid."

The brisk movements of her fingers were working magic. Finnick felt tension release not only in his back but in his legs and the pit of his stomach.

"Did you work in the kitchen again today?" asked Finnick.

"Mm-hm," said Annie. "It was good. Finnick, I like it. I might ask to be assigned there."

"That's good," said Finnick, letting out a breath as a particularly painful kink in his shoulder was smoothed out.

There was a light tap at the door and Finnick raised his head. Annie's hands automatically tensed.

"Come in," called Finnick.

The door opened, revealing Evans. Annie gasped and Finnick hastily got to his feet despite sore and tight muscles, because her eyes were red and her face blotchy.

"What's happened?" asked Finnick. "Evans?"

She took a deep breath. "It's horrible," she said, swallowing. "There was a pro-Capitol uprising in District Four, and…they killed all the other victors there. All of them."

Finnick clamped his hands to his mouth to stifle the choked cry that jumped out of him as he fell back to his seat on the bed. Annie's hands found his shoulders again, clutching them painfully. "All?" she whispered.

Evans nodded, a tear trickling down her cheek. "And their families," she whispered.

Finnick thought of Connor, Connor and his wife Dalia, Connor and his two children, the elder of which couldn't have been more than three…

"Oh, no." Finnick, looking up at Annie, saw her eyes were filled with tears. "Not the children, too," she breathed.

Evans took another deep breath, shaking her head. "I know," she said. "It's – it's horrible."

Annie was sobbing quietly. Finnick, his eyes smarting, turned and reached to gently pull her onto his lap. She clung to him, tears trickling hot down his bare chest.

"I'm sorry," whispered Evans. "I…"

She was from District Four, too. Finnick held out his hand and she took it, managing a sad little smile through her tears. He squeezed her fingers, trying to give back some of the comfort he had received from her so many times.

With a shuddering breath and another attempt at a smile, Evans returned the pressure before breaking free. "I have to get back to the hospital," she said.

Finnick nodded, arm tight around Annie. "All right," he whispered, voice catching.

Evans returned his nod, swallowed, glanced to Annie and walked quickly out with her head bowed.

"How can they do that?" whispered Annie into his chest. "How? I don't understand…" Her voice broke and she sobbed again.

Finnick bowed his head to rest his forehead on her shoulder, eyes screwed shut against the burning grief. "I don't know," he managed to say past the hard lump in his throat. "I just don't know."

Nighttime, but Finnick couldn't sleep.

It was one, maybe two in the morning, and as he lay in bed with Annie curled up in his arms, he couldn't get to sleep, though he was dog-tired from another day of training and he wasn't thinking of really anything at all. He'd started to doze off a dozen times, only to find his body jerking itself awake…

Annie stirred restlessly in her sleep and Finnick lightly stroked her shoulder. God, even after having her back for what was almost two months now, he still wasn't tired of watching her. And he never tired of seeing the gradual changes in her as the days went by – seeing her lose a little more of that shyness, seeing a little more roundness come to her thin cheeks and body.

She moved again, lips forming soundless words. Finnick kissed her forehead, but as he returned his head to the pillow he saw she had awakened, her eyes wide and fixed on his.

"You're awake?" she said, voice muted by slumber. "Finnick…"

He took her hand, kissed her fingers. "I'm fine."

Sighing, Annie settled more comfortably into the sheets, her eyelids lowered. Finnick assumed she was trying to go back to sleep, but after a few moments she said, "What day is it?"

Finnick laughed quietly. "Mermaid, you think I keep track of the date? I don't know…"

There was a minute-long silence. Then Annie drew in a breath and said, in a flat, emotionless voice, "You know, when I was in prison, I never lost track of what day it was. Because that was what kept me going, knowing that if it was August sixteenth for me, it was August sixteenth for you…that we at least had that in common, existing in the same day…"

Finnick lay still for a beat. Then he reached over and pulled Annie close against him, burying his face in her hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know…"

"It's all right," he heard Annie say.

"No, it isn't." Finnick pulled back to look at her, cradling her face in one hand. "Annie, my heart bleeds just thinking about you being there – "

Her fingers brushed hot wetness off his cheek and he sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm being silly, aren't I?"

"Not silly," said Annie. Her breath was warm on his skin as she kissed the corner of his mouth. "Just being you."

Finnick opened his eyes, frowning slightly at her. Her expression (as far as he could tell in the dim light) was open, trusting. "What – what do you mean?" he asked quietly.

Annie shrugged. "That's just what you do, isn't it?" she said. "Worry about me?"

"Well, yes, but…" Finnick stared at her, trying to read her mood, and suddenly the question he'd been aching to ask but too scared to say burst out of him. "Annie, please don't take this the wrong way, but I thought that you'd be so much worse – after being in the Capi – over there…"

He was terrified he'd wounded her with that impulsive query, but she laid her head against his chest, hands flat against the skin on his back, expression contemplative.

"I don't know," she said at last. "I'm not sure why that is, but…Finnick, you remember my ceramics? Back in Four?"

Finnick nodded, though he didn't see what that had to do with anything.

"Well, I'd make something, right, out of wet clay? And while it dried, until you fired it, it was brittle, fragile…you had to be so careful, or it might break. And after you fired it, it was still fragile, but not nearly as much…It had gotten harder. Stronger."

"So…" Finnick paused to make sense of her metaphor.

"What I'm saying, Finnick, is that I think I learned how to be stronger," said Annie. "Yes, I still have memories that hurt, new and old, and I'll never feel safe without you, and there will always be things haunting me, but…" She took a deep breath, turning her head to look at him. "But I'm stronger now."

Finnick looked into her eyes, searching. Then he pulled her tightly to his chest, holding her, face pressed against her neck as his heart throbbed with a hundred different emotions he couldn't name.

"You're joking." Gale looked up from his stew, eyes crinkling with humor. "That didn't happen."

"No, it did, I swear!" Finnick's hands flew out helpfully to illustrate his point to the little group at the table in the cafeteria. "I was walking on the beach, right, and I had this new cap that my dad had bought me. Bright red. I loved that stinking hat, wore it everywhere – to school, to bed – "

"How old were you, Finnick?" interrupted Johanna, smirking.

"I was eight, if you must know," retorted Finnick, affecting an injured voice. "Anyway, I was walking on the beach, when I see there's this giant sea turtle swimming in the ocean. It was huge. So I wade in to get a closer look, when – whoosh!" Finnick gestured forcefully with his arms, mimicking the wind, making Annie gasp and then giggle. "A gust of wind came along and blew my hat off."

"Couldn't you swim after it?" asked Delly, smiling.

"Well – yeah, I could've," said Finnick. "I did. But that sea turtle got there first."

"Must have been a pretty speedy turtle," quipped Johanna, making Katniss, who was biting bits off a piece of gravy-soaked bread, laugh.

"He was," said Finnick, eyes wide and innocent. "I'm telling you, those things move fast…" His voice died away as he realized Delly, Katniss, and Gale were all looking at someone behind him.

Twisting around, Finnick saw Peeta. Annie clutched Finnick's hand, and not just because there was a new person. Peeta had guards. Two of them. And he was handcuffed.

"Peeta!" said Delly, trying to mask her surprise with cheer. "It's so nice to see you out…and about."

He didn't respond, just sort of nodded awkwardly. God, he looked awful. Not physically – it was clear he'd been fed up some since coming to Thirteen, and any bruises or marks of his beatings were gone – but there were bags under his haunted eyes and new lines around his grim mouth.

"What's with the fancy bracelets?" asked Johanna. Annie, sitting next to her, flashed Finnick a worried look. He stroked her hand with his thumb comfortingly.

"I'm not quite trustworthy yet," said Peeta. It could have been a joke, except he was dead serious. "I can't even sit here without your permission."

Finnick had qualms about having someone who required a constant guard and handcuffs anywhere near Annie, but Johanna promptly invited Peeta to sit next to her. As he settled into the chair, trying to keep his tray balanced with his fettered hands, Johanna leaned her elbows on the table and said matter-of-factly, "Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the Capitol. We're very familiar with each other's screams."

That did it. Annie gasped, covered her ears, shoulders hunching. Finnick glared at Johanna before pulling Annie close to him. Was she trying to be that tactless, or did it just come naturally?

"Mermaid?" he said quietly, ignoring whatever Johanna was saying to excuse herself. "Darling, it's all right…" His hand chafed her arm comfortingly, other hand brushing her hair behind her back. His voice was a soothing murmur, barely louder than the sound of cutlery on plastic plates. "C'mon, now, Annie, you're all right…you're fine…nothing's going to hurt you."

Annie's face contorted briefly in a faint whimper, but her hands slid down slightly. Finnick kissed the top of her head, arm pressing her against his side in a safe little circle. "It's all right, sweetheart. I'm here. I'm here."

Her trembling hands slowly fell to her lap. Finnick wrapped them in his own long fingers, his interest in his food gone. No one else seemed to want to talk now – he wouldn't have joined in if they had. He watched Annie, who was sitting still, eyes downcast. At last she looked up with a tiny smile, freed one of her hands, and began to push her stew around in its tray.

"Annie, did you know it was Peeta who decorated your wedding cake?" Delly bravely broke the silence, trying to sound as cheerful as if nothing had happened. "Back home, his family ran the bakery and he did all the icing."

Unaccountably, Finnick disliked the idea that Peeta had been involved in his and Annie's wedding. That had been their one, golden moment. He didn't need Katniss' hijacked sometimes-boyfriend to be tacked onto it.

But Annie was a gentler soul than he, and more forgiving. "Thank you, Peeta," she said, looking around Johanna, who was scraping her spoon around in her tray to get the last drops of gravy. "It was beautiful."

"My pleasure, Annie," said Peeta. Finnick's hackles rose instantly at his tone – soft, gentle, almost caressing. He didn't care if Peeta did feel sorry for Annie – not that he had any damn reason to – he had no right talking to her like that.

Feigning casualness, he rose. "If we're going to fit in that walk, we better go," he said, rising. Annie got up with him, eyes confused as she handed him her tray, but for once he didn't meet her gaze as he laced his fingers through hers. "Good seeing you, Peeta."

"You be nice to her, Finnick." Peeta's tone was flat, almost cold. "Or I might try and take her away from you."

If it weren't for Annie, Finnick would have punched him right then and there. Masking his anger with a light voice, he said, "Oh, Peeta. Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart." He did feel worried about how Katniss would react to this new side of Peeta and glanced at her as he walked off with Annie. She looked slightly stunned.

Annie was silent as they handed their trays back at the counter and left the dining hall. As they stepped out into the hallway, she frowned and drew closer to him, but still didn't speak. Finnick looked down at her, worried. "What's wrong, mermaid?"

"I was going to ask you that," she said, looking up at him with a wrinkle in between her fine thin brows. Amazed, Finnick halted and stared down at her.

"Nothing is wrong," he said. "Honestly."

"Then why are you pretending we're going for a walk?" said Annie.

"Pretending? I'm not pretending…"

"Finnick, no one goes outside except for military training…"

Defeated, Finnick met her eyes, taking both her hands in his. "Doesn't…didn't Peeta's behavior bother you?"

She only looked more puzzled. "No…why should it?"

"Well…just the way he was acting…"

"Finnick, he's not well at all!" Annie's tone was the closest to angry he'd ever heard it. "He's been through worse than either of us, and he doesn't even have anyone to help him! I'm not bothered, I'm sorry for him…and you should be, too!"

Startled by her uncharacteristic vehemence, Finnick pulled back slightly. Annie stared up at him with reproachful eyes for a moment longer. Then her lip trembled and she hugged him, hiding her face in his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Finnick," she said. "I didn't mean to snap it you…"

"No, I deserved it," said Finnick, wrapping his arms around her. "You're right, like you always are – "

"Don't say that!" burst out Annie, looking up. Finnick raised an eyebrow in question and she shrugged apologetically. "It makes us sound like an old married couple."

Grinning, Finnick pulled her closer, hands linked behind her waist. "Well, we are married," he said. She hid her face against his chest again and he tilted his head to the side to see her face. "At least, we were the last time I checked."

"Yes, but we're not old," said Annie, voice muffled.

Finnick laughed, but he couldn't really think of anything to say to that, his immediate thought that they would be lucky to reach old age being not suited for this conversation at all.

When Finnick walked into Command and saw that the only other person there was Plutarch Heavensbee, he had to resist a very strong impulse to turn on his heel and leave. Instead he went to lean against the back wall, as far away from Plutarch's seat at the head of the table as possible.

"Finnick." Plutarch had approached and stopped a couple of feet away. Finnick studiously looked everywhere except at him.

"Finnick, I know you're angry, and I can understand why." Plutarch's voice was quiet, withdrawn. "I want to apologize for what happened. I…wasn't quite feeling myself that day."

The metal bar running around the edge of the door frame was immensely fascinating.

"So, I…just want to say I'm sorry, and assure you that it will never happen again."

"Yeah," said Finnick shortly, since courtesy seemed to demand he say something. Plutarch waited, realized that he was all the response he was going to get, and moved away.

Thankfully, Boggs and Gale walked in at that moment, giving Finnick someone else to talk to. Gale grinned and gestured at Finnick's hair. "So they didn't shear you either?"

"Yep." The soldiers slated for active combat were all being given buzz cuts, but Finnick and Gale had both been spared the razor's edge.

"Well, we need you recognizable for the cameras," said Boggs. He sounded strangely edgy, and Finnick remembered that Katniss was being tested to see if she was fit for combat today.

"Really?" asked Finnick, faking dumb innocence. "I thought it was because they were all scared of what Annie would do once she saw all my hair was gone."

Gale laughed, and Boggs briefly smiled. The door opened again, and the rest of Squad 451 trooped in.

"Hey." Finnick greeted them, with additional handclasps for Mitchell and Homes. They were middle-aged, steady, professional, and Finnick would have respected them even if he hadn't seen Mitchell shoot down a sparrow that was flying overhead during one of their practice sessions.

"Is this everyone?" said Plutarch.

"Yeah," said Boggs. "Wait – Leeg 2, where's your sister?"

Leeg 2 grinned. She had freckles, hazel eyes, and her tan hair was so close-cut she might as well have been bald. "Bathroom," she said.

Leeg 1 entered as the other commanders – though thankfully not the woman – filed in. As Plutarch began talking about the Capitol's defenses, Finnick honestly tried to keep up, but without a visual reference it was hard for him to make sense of what Plutarch was saying. He did gather that the Capitol was protected by a complex defensive system consisting of "pods." Whatever the hell pods were.

The door opened again, and Finnick saw Katniss, standing there with a giddy grin on her face that made her look years younger. She wasn't the only one happy; Boggs' face cracked into a relieved smile and he shook his head. "Let's see it." Katniss held her hand out to him, and Finnick saw it was stamped with a purple 451. Gale, standing next to him, sucked in a quick breath. "You're with me," said Boggs, and he sounded prouder than a disinterested commander should. "It's a special unit of sharpshooters. Join your squad."

Katniss walked over to them – Finnick could tell she was reining in her own exuberance. As she took her place in between Gale and Leeg 2, she shot an excited glance at Gale. He, on the other hand, looked worried…

A holograph sprang to life in front of Plutarch, shimmering in oddly distorted colors.

"This, for example, is the area surrounding one of the Peacekeepers' barracks," Plutarch was saying. Finnick, grateful for something to visually make sense of, leaned forward unconsciously. "Not unimportant, but not the most crucial of targets, and yet look." He tapped the keyboard, causing various flashing, colored lights to appear in the holo. "Each light is called a pod. It represents a different obstacle, the nature of which could be anything from a bomb to a band of mutts. Make no mistake, whatever it contains is designed to either trap or kill you…"

Katniss was drifting towards the holo. Finnick walked with her, wondering what she saw, until he realized that this wasn't the first time either of them had been in a fight for their lives…

A green light from the holo flashed in Katniss' palm. Finnick stepped up beside her, his own finger reaching towards the red glow that marked an insubstantial doorway. "Ladies and gentlemen…" he said under his breath.

Katniss finished it for him, her own voice loud and defiant. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!" And she laughed, but it sounded off. Finnick shot her a worried glance that Gale echoed.

"I don't even know why you bothered to put Finnick and me through training, Plutarch," she said jocularly.

Whatever she was covering, Finnick could only play along… "Yeah, we're already the two best-equipped soldiers you have."

"Do not think that fact escapes me," said Plutarch, waving his hand irritably. Was he annoyed by their joking, or Katniss' reference to the Games? "Now back in line, Soldiers Odair and Everdeen. I have a presentation to finish."

Sure, sure. As Finnick returned to his post against the wall, his mind was far away from Plutarch's presentation. Yes, he'd known he'd be going into combat. He'd known it would be dangerous. Would have been suspicious if it wouldn't have been. But somehow, seeing all those blinking lights, so innocent with their bright colors, had triggered some shift in his thinking…Maybe it was Katniss' injudicious remark, but all he could think of now was the Hu – the Hun – the Games. It was exactly the same, he realized. Get dumped into a fight-or-die situation. See how many people you can take down before you get taken down yourself.

Only this time, they weren't fighting people, it was an arsenal of weapons as unlimited as the imaginations of the people who had designed them…

The meeting over, Finnick left as quickly as possible. It wasn't much of a surprise when he found himself walking with Katniss down the hallway.

"What will I tell Annie?" he muttered. He hadn't even told her he'd be leaving to fight at all…

"Nothing," said Katniss. "That's what my mother and sister will be hearing from me."

"If she sees that holograph – "

"She won't," Katniss cut him off. "It's classified information. It must be." Well, Finnick didn't doubt that. "Anyway, it's not like an actual Games. Any number of people will survive." Her tone was a little too optimistic to be pragmatic. "We're just overreacting because – well, you know why. You still want to go, don't you?"

"Of course. I want to destroy Snow as much as you do." Wanted to see him bleeding, broken, strapped to a table in one of his own torture chambers…

"It won't be like the others," said Katniss. "This time Snow will be a player, too."

Otherwise, Finnick probably wouldn't be going. Before he could respond, Haymitch stepped up to them, looking grim – well, grimmer. "Johanna's back in the hospital," he said.

"Is she hurt? What happened?" Finnick was surprised by the concern in Katniss' voice.

"It was while she was on the Block. They try to ferret out a soldier's potential weaknesses. So they flooded the street."

Finnick remembered the Block with seething distaste. Apparently their way of discovering his "potential weaknesses" had been to torment him with the sound of Annie screaming, seeing if he would follow orders or go racing down the street to rescue her. He wondered if they'd gotten the idea from the jabberjays. Either way, he hated it.

"So?" said Katniss, prompting Haymitch.

"That's how they tortured her in the Capitol," he said. "Soaked her and then used electric shocks. In the Block she had some kind of flashback. Panicked, didn't know where she was. She's back under sedation."

Sh-t, that sucked. That really, really sucked. Finnick had had enough of the hospital to last him a lifetime, so he pitied anyone who had to go back there. And flashbacks…well, he'd had enough unpleasant experiences with those, too.

"You two should go see her. You're as close as friends as she's got," said Haymitch. Finnick nodded assent, willing to put aside his dislike of Johanna for once. "I better go tell Plutarch. He won't be happy. He wants as many victors as possible for the cameras to follow in the Capitol. Thinks it makes for better television."

Jeez, everything was turning into a film shoot now.

"Are you and Beetee going?" asked Katniss.

"As many young and attractive victors as possible. So, no. We'll be here." Finnick was definitely not imagining the edge of resentment in Haymitch's voice. It was clear he wanted a shot at Snow's ass as well.

"Well, I'm going to see Johanna," said Finnick. He turned to Katniss. "Coming?"

"I'll come later," she said. "I want to ask Boggs for a favor…"

Finnick shrugged and turned, pacing his way to the hospital. Haymitch matched step with him, hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face.

After a couple of minutes, he spoke. "How are you holding up?"

"Pretty well," said Finnick. They reached the elevator and he punched the button. "Better than before."

Haymitch grunted, staring at the floor. As the elevator announced its descent with a quiet whir, he asked, "So Plutarch showed you guys the Capitol defenses?"

Finnick nodded, wondering how he knew. "Yeah, they're…they're something."

Haymitch looked at him as they stepped into the elevator, mouth set in a straight line. "You saw it, didn't you?"

Sometimes it was easier to play dumb. "Saw what?"

"Saw what Katniss saw. What I saw. What every other victor who sees that is going to see – that the Capitol is a f—king arena all over again."

"Oh. That." Finnick leaned against the elevator wall, hands drumming open-palmed against the metal. "Yeah, I saw that."

"Well?" Haymitch was watching him for his response.

Finnick turned his head to look at the aging victor as the elevator shuddered to a halt. "Well, it's not like it's any different from what we expected."

That answer confused Haymitch. "What?"

Shrugging, Finnick stepped out into the hallway. "It's always been dog-eat-dog," he said, turning to look back at him. "Did you think that would change just because the sides have?"

The elevator doors closed in front of his startled face. Finnick turned round again and walked as casually as he could into the hospital. Just being there made his breath come shorter, his hands shake…

"Finnick!" Evans ran up to him, startled. "Are you all right? Has something happened?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he hastened to reassure her. "I just came to see Johanna…"

"Oh, right…" Evans consulted a clipboard on the wall. "She's down that hallway, Ward 27, Room 3…"

"Thanks," said Finnick. As he walked through the sterile white halls, he tried very, very hard not to look at any of the other patients. Thankfully, most of the doors were closed…

As was Johanna's. Finnick tapped lightly on the door, heard a weak groan in response. Suddenly apprehensive, he pushed the door open.

Johanna lay on the hospital bed, pale, sweaty, her eyes wide-open and frightened. Finnick hesitated in the doorway with his hand in his pockets. "Um…hi."

Instead of answering, Johanna swallowed convulsively. Finnick was startled, and more than a little afraid, of how vulnerable she looked. He had no idea how to deal with her like this…

And then he thought of Annie. Of how Johanna really wasn't that different from her, now. Just a young woman, broken by the Capitol's machine.

"How are you?" asked Finnick quietly, drawing up a chair and sitting next to her bed. Johanna watched him distrustfully, as wary of this change in him as he had been of her.

"Spectacular," she rasped. "Why?"

Finnick shrugged. "Haymitch told me what happened on the Block."

The Johanna he'd known would probably have cussed Haymitch out. The one lying on the bed winced, shuddered, and turned away.

Impulsively, Finnick took her hand. Under the sweat, her skin was thin, papery.

"I don't think I need to tell you how tough it is," said Finnick. "But maybe you need to hear someone say that it's possible to live past it. More than possible. Doable. As long as you keep your mind to it."

Johanna looked back at him, frightened, yet wanting to believe. "I thought I was," she said. "But then…" Her voice trailed off hopelessly.

Finnick squeezed her hand comfortingly. "It's not going to be a smooth path," he said. "But believe me, it'll never be as bad as it first was again." Somehow, he found room for a wry grin. "I would know."

"Yeah, I think you would," said Johanna hoarsely. Her eyelids trembled. "Say – say hi to Annie for me, would you?"

Finnick swallowed, unreasonably touched. "I will," he said, releasing her hand and rising. "Get well soon."

"Thanks," whispered Johanna. And whether it was her big eyes, or the loss of her fiery demeanor, or the evident fragility of her frame under the thin bedclothes, but to Finnick she looked more like a lost child than anything else, a lost child he wanted to comfort but didn't know how…

Taking a deep breath, he turned and left the room.

Finnick squinted through the sighting of his gun, lining the crosshairs up with the chink of flesh-colored fabric visible between the plates that protected shoulder and chest, right under the armpit. He took a breath, squeezed his finger on the trigger –

With a sharp report, the bullet streaked out of the black gun muzzle. Almost instantaneously, red liquid spurted from under the dummy's arm. Finnick rose from his crouch, pleased.

"Good one." Gale clapped him on the shoulder.

"Thanks," said Finnick, pulling off his protective glasses. As he turned from the firing range, he saw someone approaching, someone very out of place on the military training ground.

Plutarch Heavensbee.

"Hey." Finnick hit Gale on the arm. Distracted from his own aiming, Gale turned around with a slight frown. Finnick nodded towards Plutarch. "What's he doing here?"

Gale's frown grew more pronounced. "Special orders, maybe?" His eyes narrowed in a wicked grin. "He doesn't look too happy, though."

It had rained last night. There was a definite scowl on Plutarch's face as he picked his way through the muddy ground.

Boggs stepped up to him, pulling off gloves. "Mr. Heavensbee," he said. "What can I do for you?" His tone was just a shade too ironic to be genuine.

Plutarch gestured to the concrete shelter where Jackson and Katniss were loading their guns. "Let's gather everyone. I have an announcement."

Gale shot Finnick a What-did-I-tell-you look. Finnick grimaced and walked over with him to join the others.

"Squad Four-Five-One, you have been selected for a special mission," said Plutarch. "We have numerous sharpshooters, but rather a dearth of camera crews. Therefore, we've handpicked the eight of you to be what we call our 'Star Squad.' You will be the on-screen faces of the invasion."

Translation: We're going to be filming you pretending to fight, but you won't actually get to do anything.

Have fun.

"Finnick!" Annie looked up from slicing turnips into chunks in the kitchen, eyes round. "What are you doing here?"

"I have to talk to you," he said quietly.

Annie's eyes widened at his serious tone. "Okay," she said, immediately putting down her knife and drying her hands on a towel. Finnick didn't speak as he took her hand and led her out of the kitchen and into the hallway. It felt too bright, too open. He found a storage closet and walked with her into it, turning the light on as the door shut behind them.

"Finnick, what is it?" Annie faced him, taking his hands. Finnick met her eyes seriously.

"I'm leaving soon," he said.

Annie's face paled down to the lips. "Why?" she whispered.

Finnick took a deep breath. He didn't want to tell Annie this, didn't want to cause her the grief and worry he knew it would, but he owed her his honesty –

"They're sending soldiers out to fight in the Capitol," he said. "I'm going, too."

Annie did not speak. But she stared at him and began to tremble violently…

"Mermaid?" Concerned, Finnick reached for her face.

"No!" The cry burst out of Annie, echoed in the small room. "Oh God, Finnick, no!"

"Darling, I've got to," said Finnick, heart aching, both hands reaching for her now as she backed away. "We've got to bring them down – "

"But why you?" There was real anguish in Annie's words. "Haven't we suffered enough already?"

Finnick's excuse sounded lame even in his own years. "They want heroes, faces the public will recognize…"

"Bullsh-t!" Finnick stared at Annie, shocked by the profanity, and she stared desperately back at him. "Finnick, don't you see, it's the same thing all over again…just more and more killing, it never ends – "

"But it does!" Stepping forward, Finnick seized Annie's arms, bringing her closer to him. "That's why we're fighting, Annie, so that we don't have to live with their injustice anymore…"

Annie stared at him solemnly. "Finnick, do you really think Coin will be any better than Snow?" she whispered.

"She can't be any worse," he countered feebly.

"She's as vindictive, as ruthless, as power-hungry as he is!" burst out Annie. "Oh God, Finnick, why can't you see that?"

"I thought you wanted to be free – "

"I want you to be safe!"

They stared at each other for a long time. Finally Annie broke the silence. "What do you want?"

The truth burst out of Finnick in a low growl. "I want Snow to pay for everything he's done."

Annie looked away. After a minute, she said in an odd voice, "You know, part of me really likes that idea."

"Annie, I have to go," said Finnick. "There's nothing else for me to do. Nowhere to run if I disobey."

"Another example of Coin's justice?"

"Annie – "

She silenced him by putting her fingers on his lips. "Look, I know you have no choice," she said. "I get that. Just…when you go, remember what you're fighting for."

"I will."

Annie nodded, stepped away. "I have to get back to work," she said quietly.

Finnick opened the door for her, turned off the light. As he was walking down the hallway, he heard Annie call his name. "Yes?" he said, turning around immediately.

She was standing a couple of yards away with an odd little smile on her face. "When you leave, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Don't die."

Finnick liked the hospital better after lights-out, with the harsh whites muted by mats of shadow. It was easier for him to slip through unnoticed, to reach the door of Evans' office without anyone knowing.

Evans' eyes widened when she opened the door in answer to Finnick's light tap. "Finnick!" she said in surprise. "Come in. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," he said, stepping into the room as she shut the door. "It's just…" Evans turned the lamp on, looked at him with concern.

"We're leaving tomorrow," said Finnick. "Will I be all right during combat?"

"I don't know," said Evans softly. "Are you still having nightmares?"

"Now and then."

"But you don't fall apart."

"No," said Finnick, shuddering slightly at the memory of that awful feeling.

"Your paranoia is gone?"

"Yes."

"And you don't have flashbacks, relapses…"

"No."

"Well, you should be okay," said Evans, but she still looked worried. "I can't know for sure…"

"Yeah," said Finnick. "I'm bringing my rope, just in case."

"Don't use it as a crutch, though."

"I know."

Finnick hesitated and then said, "You know, I suppose this is goodbye."

"Yes, it is." Evans held out her hand and Finnick took it. "Take – take care of yourself." She bit her lip, holding back tears.

"I'll try," said Finnick quietly. "But I can't make any promises."

Evans almost smiled. Finnick pressed her hand tightly. "Thank you," he said. "So much. For everything you did."

"You don't need to thank me," whispered Evans. "Good luck."

Finnick had his hand on the door handle when a thought made him turn back to her. "Evans, what's your first name?"

This time, she managed to smile. "Leah."

"Oh," mumbled Finnick. "I thought it might have been Gaila. You look like a Gaila."

With tears in her eyes, Evans shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said gently.

Finnick shrugged. "It doesn't matter." Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. "Well…bye."

"Goodbye, Finnick," said Evans softly.

He hesitated – saluted – and left the hospital with a tightness in his throat and chest.

"It is always painful to part from people whom one has known for a very brief space of time. The absence of old friends one can endure with equanimity. But even a momentary separation from anyone to whom one has just been introduced is almost unbearable." - The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscar Wilde

Finnick held Annie, tightly, tightly, crushing his face in her hair, because he knew this might be the last chance he ever got to hold her. Annie's fingers clutched the fabric of his uniform on his back and she let out a gasping breath.

"It'll be okay," murmured Finnick brokenly. "I'll come back…"

"Oh, God!" sobbed Annie.

She raised her tearstained face to his and he kissed her fiercely, passionately, tasting the salt of their mingled tears. And the feelings in his heart choked him as he held her as close to his chest as possible, burying his face in the hollow between neck and shoulder as she hugged him with all the force in her slight body, her heart pounding so hard he could feel it against his. Gasping, Annie took Finnick's face in her hands and kissed him again and again and again, and he kissed her back, not wanting to leave and rip his own heart out…

"Soldier Odair?" Boggs' voice, quiet with restrained sympathy, came from behind Finnick. "We're leaving now."

Swallowing, Finnick looked straight into Annie's eyes, holding her face in one hand. "I will – come – back," he breathed fiercely. "Never doubt that."

"But how can you know for sure?" Annie whispered.

Finnick shook his head. "I can't," he said.

He kissed her again, pressing his lips to hers, trying very hard not to think that this might be the last time he tasted their silky sweetness…with a gasp, he broke away, stumbling slightly, shouldering his gun as he hurried after Gale and Boggs and the others. Just before he reached the door to the hangar, he turned, looked back at Annie. She stood among the other lovers and families of the departing soldiers, slim and straight, arms folded around her, tears running silently down her face. Then someone jostled him as they were going through the door and he lost his balance. When he looked up again, Annie was gone.