A/N:
Sorry if you've already read this chapter. I woke up this morning, and knew I needed to add to it. I'm never quite satisfied with my writings, it seems.
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Annie stared towards the direction of the cornucopia, her body shaking as she moved her hand to cover her quivering mouth. Tears began pouring out of her eyes, as she crumbled to the ground in sobs.
She had never seen herself as weak before. Annie grew up around tough boys, and wanted to be as strong as them someday, spending all day in the ocean, bringing home food to her family. She wanted to provide and protect. She knew that Finnick would always see her as the small, shy girl she once was, but she hoped she had grown since then.
In this moment, though, she felt as though she had failed.
Why did I think that I could protect him?
The way she convulsed in sobs, repulsed by her ability to let Gerald die, showed her weakness, plain as day. What would his sisters think? Annie wanted to be a heroine, she wanted to be remembered as something more than what she is.
Was that selfish, though? Did she really want to spare Gerald's life, or did she want to die in glory? No, I wanted him to have more time. I wanted his sisters to have a brother. I wanted them to be happy. And safe.
No one was safe, though. If Gerald won, what was stopping Snow from forcing him into the life Finnick lead? What stopped Snow from sending Gerald's sisters off one by one to the arena, to punish him?
Nothing. Nothing stopped Snow. Annie wished she could, but she was weak, and selfish, no matter how hard it was to admit.
Annie felt the cold ground grip her body, making her shake more than she already had been, her thoughts running wild in her mind, breaking her down, bit by bit. Hearing the third cannon from the fight tore her to the ground, and she wondered why she felt no remorse for Saphira, or for Casifer. Why was Gerald special?
All of them had family and loved ones. They had people that looked up to them, and people that wanted to protect them.
Gerald was from home, though. Annie knew him, and he cared for her. Her greatest weakness had always been getting too attached, and that showed with Finnick, too.
She remembered when they were young, and Finnick wanted nothing to do with her. He would push her away, yet she kept coming back. Even at a young age, she felt deep attachment to many people, and broke when they refused her.
Annie didn't have that attachment with the other tributes, they're deaths meant nothing to her. Does that make me a monster? She asked herself, as sobs continued to pulse out of her body. No, it can't.
They were all children, after all. Now twelve of them were dead.
Just as her sobs began to feel under control, she heard the sound of an axe fly above her head, felt the wind grace her hair. Annie heard the roar of a cannon, and lifted up her head, looking around in the dark.
"Annie, what were you thinking? What's wrong?" Gerald said, rushing to get his axe out of the girl from District Twelve's head. He did this nonchalantly, as if it was an everyday occurrence. Annie remembered him say that his aim wasn't that great, but maybe that changes when it's a life or death situation. "You're lucky I got here in time, she was about to get you."
Annie sat up, her face covered in dirt, mouth wide open. "I... heard three cannons. I thought you were... I assumed..." Her voice trailed off, and she felt a chill go down her spine. Thirteen now. "You're... Alive."
"Yeah," Gerald said, wiping off his axe. "Hard to believe it's still the first night, right?" He walked over to her, and offered up his hand. "We should get moving, I wouldn't be surprised if more people came running to your screams."
Annie stood, and gripped his hand tightly. He squeezed back, smiling at the girl. She didn't know this, but he had decided that he was going to keep her alive, even though it meant he wouldn't return. Was it for the same selfish reasons?
The day before the pair left for the arena, Gerald had spoke with Mags, in confidence.
"Mags, I really want to thank you for everything you've done for me." Gerald spoke, her voice quivering, as tears took over his body. "I can't let her die, though."
Mags smiled softly at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I care deeply for both of you, Gerald." She said, knowing how unfortunate his situation was. Mags didn't want him to die... She didn't want anyone to die to the arena, but she knew Finnick needed Annie, like the sea needs the moon.
"She had so much light, Mags." Gerald said, placing his head in his hands, "Everyone loves her, back home, and here. The world needs to keep hearing her voice. She needs to draw people together."
Mags listened to his words, "Can I trust you, Gerald?" She asked, although she knew she could. He had sealed his death by making up his mind. "There's... a revolution brewing. They need a leader, though, someone to inspire hope in others. That's all we're waiting for. That person, and something to draw the fire."
Gerald looked up, his face sad, yet a light of hope flickered in his eyes. "Are you thinking..." He began, and Mags responded with a nod.
"It might not be her. We... don't know yet. The games will play a deciding factor."
"I'm going to do everything in my power to keep her alive, Mags. I swear by it. Just promise... my family... won't go hungry."
Mags took his head in her hands, and kissed his forehead. "They will have a roof, they will have food, and they will be loved."
It was true. The rebellion was searching for a face of the revolution, someone to inspire hope. Many names had been thrown into the hat before, Annie was no different.
They began to walk further away from the cornucopia, and Gerald placed his arm over Annie's shoulders as they walked. It was a common thing for him to do, now, as he was afraid if he let go, he'd lose her. Still, he wondered if he made the right choice.
Eventually, the pair made it to the dam, admiring its height. A couple of the trees were tall enough to hand over the top of it.
"Do you think that's drinking water?" Annie asked, and Gerald nodded. They weren't in need of water, the backpack had a decent amount, but it was still good information to know.
They continued to walk, and they watched the sun rise together. Once they made it to a large river, they sat down on a couple boulders, and began to discuss the nights events. The water was still running, but they could only imagine how cold it was.
According to Gerald, Saphira and Michaela killed eachother, and the third cannon was just someone in the woods. "Probably died from the cold," Gerald said.
"That can happen that fast?" Annie asked, fear filling her voice.
Gerald sighed, "Yeah. Mags told me that. She said I would need to keep you warm, if we were in a cold arena. Because you have less fat on your body than I do, there's nothing to keep you warm." He explained, adjusting his position on the rocks. "I'm not the most help with it, but I try my best."
As they spoke, two more cannons went off.
They're dropping fast, Annie thought. Fifteen.
The two of them tensed up, scanning the area for anyone who might not have the best intentions. Cannons weren't just a signal for a death, they were a reminder that you're never truly safe.
"You should tell me about your family," Annie said, smiling, laying her head on Gerald's shoulder, feeling the wave of tired roll over her.
Gerald sighed, leaning back, using his arms to brace himself. "Well, for starters, I'm the only boy. My father passed away when I was younger, in a ship wreck while he was fishing. Him and his buddies just weren't paying attention, I guess.. Anyways, I have three younger sisters. They're seven, nine and fourteen. Isabel, Reesling, and Carver."
Annie looked at him, studying his face carefully as he spoke. He seemed to still be at peace, so she didn't feel as though she was intruding.
"My mom takes good care of us. I go out and fish, she cooks the fish, and we take turns cleaning the kitchen. Our place is small, and I sleep on the floor of the living room so my sisters can have their own space. I had just hoped I would have more time to turn their lives around."
As he said the last sentence, Annie watched tears form in his eyes. You'll get more time, she thought.
At least they'll have someone in their lives, Gerald reminded himself, allowing the tears to slip down his face. Annie and Mags will take good care of them. Finnick, too, I'm sure.
"I think my dad died in the same ship wreck as yours." Annie said, taking Gerald's hand in hers. "I don't have any siblings, it's just me and my mom. I moved in with... you know.. When he won. We take good care of my mom, and Mags."
Gerald looked at her, visibly confused. "Why won't you say his name?" He asked, laughing softly. "I mean, I know what he does when you're not looking, and I'm sure you do, too."
She looked down as she spoke, "It's too dangerous. If we were back home I'd explain, but it just has to stay a secret."
He nodded in response, "I can try to understand that. I just think you deserve better."
Gerald couldn't help but believe Finnick was never satisfied. All he knew, was that Annie didn't seem to be enough for Finnick.
Annie shook her head, "I think it's the other way around."
As the said that, she remembered how hard Finnick had worked to keep her safe throughout her life. He protected her from the hard truths, and the terror that ran his life.
Look where it got them. She was throwing it away, and it felt noble. Annie couldn't help but imagine Finnick's face when he would watch her die. She wanted to stay true to her promise to him, and she'd imagine that the kiss of death was a kiss from her love. Would that make it easier?
The pair continued to chat quietly, sneaking in a second for a small lunch. Then they began walking again, being careful and quiet with every step.
Eventually, the sun fell as quickly as it rose. With the moon came the cold, the vicious wind picking at their necks. Gerald took the first watch, sat up against a tree, with Annie curled in a ball beside him. Her head rested in his lap as they both tried to stay warm.
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Finnick spent as much time as he could glued to the screen, anxiety consuming him. Every few hours, Mags would stop by and bring him a meal, or a letter deliveries by an Avox.
He had been avoiding the clients Snow had sent him, out of fear. Finnick would never forgive himself if he wasn't there when Annie needed him most. Mags assured him, though, that she would take care of him.
"Finnick, my boy, if you don't go do what Snow says... She's in more danger. I don't care what deals you've made with anyone. This is how you protect her." She spoke with a hand on his shoulder, a sad smile on her face.
When his parents died, Mags took it upon herself to be there for Finnick. He spent almost every morning with her, while Annie tended to her mother. He wished that the two women in his life were closer, but accepted it. Annie had always wanted to let them be alone, because she knew how much they needed eachother.
He knew that if Plutarch was holding up his end of the deal, Annie would live, no matter what Snow wanted. If they needed Finnick as much as they said they did, Annie was safe.
Finnick still mourned for Annie, though, not as he would if she were dead. The pain he felt was worse, and it was almost a hope that she would die in the Arena. He knew that the pain after the games wasn't worth it, unless you had something to live for. He had Annie, but he was worried about how much of her would be left when she returned.
He remembered a time from their childhood, when they were around nine or ten, when Annie held a funeral for a bee that stung her. She screamed and cried when her mother pulled out the stinger, but he would never forget the look on her face when she realized the bee was likely dead.
"It's my fault I got stung, momma." Annie pleaded, her face wet with her tears, "I scared her and now she's dead!"
"Annie, it's just the way things are. Now... Let's get you inside..." Her mother pleaded, taking her daughter's hand.
The girl took her hand back, her eyebrows angled in frustration. "I have to find her! Finnick, tell her, I need to make sure she knows I'm sorry!"
He smiled as he recalled the memory. Her generousity and selflessness had always inspired him to be better, to be stronger. They spent the rest of the afternoon gathering flowers, and searching for the bee. In the end, they couldn't find it, and Annie just spoke out into the air, saying her apologies.
How could someone so kind and naïve have a life outside the games?
When he watched Gerald's axe hit Casifer's head, and saw Annie's face... He lost his sliver of hope. She was terrified. Then when she broke down after hearing the cannons, Finnick walked up close to the screen, feeling like he might break down, too.
Nothing good can come out of the Arena. Not even his Annie.
A/N:
The formatting of my chapters in my document manager has been glitching a lot... If the formatting is messed up for you, I'm sorry! Tried my best to make sure it was fixed.
Let me know what you thought about the chapter! All the comments I receive really motivate me to push more out. Thank you for reading.