GUYS. I know it's been way too long since I've updated, and I'm sorry if this chapter has some grammatical mistakes since I haven't edited it super closely, but AHHH I'M SO SORRY. Nothing I say is going to change the fact that it's been way too long since I've updated. And I want to say I'm sorry. I hate to keep you guys waiting. I know how sad it is to see stories drop off the face of the earth for a while, and that's what mine kind of did, but hopefully nothing unexpected like this happens again for a while.

I've been in and out of the hospital for the past few months with terrible migraines, so I've missed a ton of schoolwork. In any of my downtime when I was feeling better, I was doing homework. So I had zero time to write. Now that they've finally figured out what's going on in my head and my migraines have lessened, after a long month I'm finally caught up on schoolwork and have some free time for friends and writing. It feels so good to be back doing this, and I hope you guys aren't too mad, even though I know it really has been too long (like, since the summer long). For any of those who lost interest since it has been so long since I've updated, I'm genuinely sorry and thank you for supporting me. And for those of you that are with me even now, thank you, thank you, thank you. It means the world.

A review would also really cheer me up. A follow, a favorite, even criticism or an honest "I totally hated it" opinion type-thing. I love hearing your thoughts.

Annie

Chapter 14: Home

She's overwhelmed.

The bright, morning sun burns into my eyes as the doors of the train swoosh open. I'm momentarily blinded, and as my eyes adjust, for just a few seconds I let myself be ridiculously happy, happy that I'm home, that Annie's alive, that somehow we're in District Four again speaking to each other even though I'd given up on that hope a long time ago. I don't think about how we got here: her failure on the stage of the Recap, how mad Snow is, and the repercussions surely to come. I don't even worry about the client schedules already surely waiting amidst the heaps of fan mail at home. For some reason, ever since I've won my Games, Snow has insisted on the mail being sent to my own house so that the crazy, obsessed Capitol women can feel a more "personal" connection to their Victor. It makes me sick, and I always have bonfires out on the beach whenever I need to clear my head, especially after a long stretch of time in the Capitol, so the letters always make a perfect substitute for firewood. I always shudder burning the letters of names I recognize, women who I know who have used me… I never open a single one.

All of these thoughts, thoughts of how much harder this is about to get simply because of how sick and twisted the Capitol and Snow truly are, sober me instantly. Then, I really notice my surroundings. And I'm not focused on the blinding bright sun or the salty air or the feel of the stumbling, frail girl beside me's hand clutched in mind. I'm on the defensive of the sheer mass of strange men with large cameras, zooming in and out as large flashes and clicking sounds ruin any sense of calm any of us had on the train earlier, which was little to begin with. Annie's hand tightens on mine, and I squeeze back reassuringly, hoping that she can last until we make it to the Victor's Village. Of course, they will probably follow us until the front door, but once she's inside, she can collapse and eat lunch and sob and disappear for the rest of the day. We just have to make it to this door.

I want to wrap my arm around her shoulder. I want to put my lips to her ear and whisper words of comfort, maybe something about disappearing to a happy dreamland. But all eyes are on us, and I can't have Snow thinking I'm any more involved with her than I already am, especially not involved in that way. It'd be too dangerous if I did ever do anything wrong, and besides, appearances for the flocks of freaks in the Capitol are important to Snow and his regime. I'm his pawn, and his women love me. I can't be seen with Annie like they want to be seen with me or else they get jealous, and that's a problem.

I hate all of this.

We're crossing under the gated archway to the Victor's Village now and I'm hurrying, Annie and Mags falling into step silently behind me. Of course, I put on my winning smile for the cameras and answer questions as we walk: about my next visit to the Capitol, about my pride for Annie, about how much I love coming back to the ocean. First and foremost, I always have to seem likeable.

Mags always said, "You have to make them think you love them. Make them believe you love talking to the cameras. It's all a game, but it's an important one. Play it right."

Those words have sort of been my guiding life motto for the past nine years.

Finally, finally, we're to Annie's new house, right next to mine, and I usher both her and Mags in before politely giving the camera a wave, a wink, and then shutting the door softly, collapsing against the solid, smooth driftwood. It's been whitewashed in order to appear like it belongs in District 4, and I rest heavily against it, breathing out a gusty sigh. Mags is already swift at work, silently pulling out dishes as she prepares a comforting meal. Annie's on the couch, looking more exhausted than ever, and her face has a paleish, sickly tone permanently placed there underneath her flushed cheeks. I carefully guide her to the shower where she disappears for a full hour before appearing looking at least a little livelier with the light pink sundress accenting her bronze skin nicely. Her hair is down and completely dry, waving slightly down her back. I wonder if it still smells like vanilla. Her eyes still seem a little glossy, maybe even blood-shot from being so drained of energy, but she musters a smile and comes to sit next to me for our late lunch. Mags smiles and heaps her plate full of fried fish and potatoes and the garlic greens she grows in the garden behind her house. We eat in silence for a while, me because I'm sick of the constant noise you hear in the Capitol, and I'm surprised when Annie is the first one to speak up.

"This tastes wonderful, Mags," she says timidly, reaching her thin arm across the table to squeeze Mags' hand.

Mags' smiles her toothy, wide smile and pats Annie's delicate fingers. "My dear girl, so brave."

Annie's smile falters, and I glance over to see her eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"I wouldn't call myself brave, Mags. I'm weak. I ran off stage. I've caused both of you so much trouble. I—I…"

I can feel an episode coming on, even though it's been such a short amount of time—I can see it in the way her eyes glaze over and fog with that scary blankness like they always do. She slumps her head and begins to sob, and I quickly stand to move her gently to the sofa. Mags' forehead creases with deep worry lines and she hurries to prepare tea for when Annie calms down; it's one of the few things that soothes her rough, dry throat once she's done crying.

I'm helpless to comfort her, and I don't want her to grow attached. In the Capitol, I held her together so that we could go home and because I didn't trust her in anyone else's arms. I cared about her too much to leave her for dust in the Capitol. But now that she's home, she has her family, who will probably be begging to be let in for dinner tonight since we missed them in all of the camera craziness at the train today. She has Pearl, that loud, insane best friend of hers, and probably other friends that she loves that will support her. She has Mags, who knows her and her moods about as well as I do. Mags was born to be a mother, comforting and loving and supportive. She always knows what to say; she will be good for Annie.

I'm not good for Annie.

I care about her. I became friends with her again in a heartbeat. I saved her life. And in a lot of ways, she saved mine too.

But this only gets more dangerous from now on. As long as she is associated with me, her name won't go away. She stays "Annie Cresta: the Victor Gone Mad", always by my side, always a target for Snow, always a reminder of a failure of his, always disposable and vulnerable and easily removable. But if we stop seeing each other, if I stay in the Capitol as much as possible and make sure to remain the Finnick Odair that the women in the Capitol love, the one who has no real ties back home (besides an eighty-year old woman, that is), then Annie disappears. Her name goes away, and she becomes unimportant. Nobody will care about her because she will simply stay home and Snow will never invite her back, simply because she never was popular with the crowds.

I want this for Annie. I don't ever want her to have to go back to the Capitol. And if I cut off ties with her and Snow knew that the year she mentored would have low ratings as far as District 4 was concerned, he would probably never even force her to mentor again. Unless he knew it would hurt me if she did have to go back there again and watch two more children die.

All of this runs through my head in answerless circles as I stare at the now-sleeping Annie on her new, plush couch. Her long, dark eyelashes flutter in her sleep and she looks so innocent that it makes me hurt.

But if I do stop this friendship before anything solid here at home can start, I do know I will be doing her a favor. I will be keeping her safe. And that's all I've really ever wanted.

So why is it so hard? Why do I feel like my chest is caving in on itself and I can't breathe? Why do I feel like by just saying these things to myself I'm already letting both of us down?

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. All I know is that I'm not good for her. I'm not good for sweet, innocent Annie. I'm not good enough for her.

"Finnick?"

I'm startled by her soft, sleepy voice and vivid, green eyes. She's staring at me, and I've been so lost in thought that I haven't even realized.

"Yeah, Ann?"

"Stop beating yourself up. About whatever it you're beating yourself up about. It's not worth it."

It is worth it, I think to myself. You're worth it.

Instead, I answer, "No idea what you're talking about. None at all."

A smile's tugging at the corner of her lips, and she laughs lightly, a soft, musical sound that makes my throat bubble with a laugh of its own. She looks genuinely happy in these few moments, and I love it.

Mags walks in then, three steaming mugs of tea on a tray, and smiles affectionately at my sitting form, tucked into Annie's lying one. Annie gingerly sits up and then begins to sip at her tea while Mags remarks about the weather, how it's cooling down, how storms are predicted at night for the next few weeks. I get a fire started, cover Annie with an old, knitted wool blanket that Mags brought over from her house, and we simply sit in comfortable silence until Annie's family arrives, flustered and crying and relieved in an impossible mixture of shouts and loud apologies that they couldn't find us in the midst of all those cameras. Her older sister Lana is hysterical, in fact her whole family is, but it's her grandfather especially, who clings tightly to Annie's shaking form and comforts his now-crying granddaughter, that really amazes me. He doesn't react to my presence at all. Lana, Annie's older sister, stares at me with wide, suspicious eyes as if she still can't believe that I'm here after all those years. It makes sense, but I am still a little hurt by it. On the other hand, Annie's little brother Flynn is looking up at me with bugged, glazed eyes, as if I'm the reason his world is turning. I've always loved Flynn, and I used to take him fishing out on the ocean with our fathers, back when we were both still kids. After that though, I grew up fast and then never really hung around the Cresta family again. I remember Annie telling me he looked up to me, but now seeing his tall, lanky face staring up at me with those adoring, trademark green eyes, I smile at the kid and wave. For Lana, I just wink. She looks disgusted, but when Annie laughs, she can't hide her smile. It makes me happy, seeing them all again like this. It's been so long. I've only ever associated their entire family with mine, and that seems like a lifetime ago.

"Hey Flynn," I say, ruffling his hair with my hand and grabbing him in a tight hug. "Good to see you, buddy."

"Finn! I've missed you!" Flynn says, his untidy dark hair and identical copy of Lana and Annie's. I notice that he doesn't mention or ask why I've been gone so long. It must have been a topic that was off-limits in their house right after it happened.

"Me too," I say. "Me too."

Lana snorts, and Annie shakes her head. Annie's mother is standing behind the sofa, a sympathetic gaze on her face as she grips Annie's hand tightly. Her voice is choked with emotion when she finally speaks.

"I don't know how to thank you, Finnick. But I am indebted to you. Thank you for bringing my girl home."

I manage to smile, even though I know I did it just as much for myself and Annie as I did it for Mrs. Cresta.

"It was no problem, ma'am," I say with a soft smile. "I'd do anything for this family, and you know that."

Annie's eyes are glued to mine, and when I glance at her, she smiles at me softly, her cheeks a glowing a soft pink.

After that, we simply sit and catch up on District News: what has been happening with fishing prices, if Annie's bead shell business survived while she was gone and other things like that. It's midnight by the time Annie's family leaves, and Flynn has fallen asleep on Finnick's shoulder, wedged in between Annie and him on the couch. Lana makes promises to come back tomorrow to take Annie out for lunch so they can go see Pearl, and Annie smiles in agreement even though she's nodding off sleepily on my shoulder too. Lana rolls her eyes and stalks out the door with the rest of the family close behind, and after that, it's Mags and me and Annie, alone in her home. We've survived the first full day back home in District 4.

But I haven't even gone home yet. I haven't faced the letters. Haven't looked at my long schedule of clients or my return date to the Capitol. That will be for tomorrow. Tonight, I will make sure Mags and Annie are safe here, Mags in the guest room since she is looking after Annie for now, and then I will deal with everything tomorrow brings.

For tonight, everything is fine, because we are home.

It happens two nights later.

I'm settled in, I've dug through my mail and set fire to it, I have eight weeks until I am forced to go back to the Capitol, and as of now, there has been no menacing word or threat from President Snow on behalf of Annie's behavior at the Recap, although there is bound to be some form of communication from him about it. We'll deal with that when the time comes though. I still spend every day with Annie and Mags, despite my constant nagging feelings that I'm not good enough, that I'm putting Annie in danger, that Snow will hurt her. I try to distance myself each day, and I think I am slowly succeeding when one night I convince Annie I am tired and leave early. I go back to my own house and pace around the living room, shaped exactly like Annie's, with just slightly different furnishings.

This is making me sick.

I wonder what she and Mags are doing. I wonder what she thinks I am doing. I wonder what I am doing. I feel sick that I left her and Mags only to come to my house and feel worthless. It's unnaturally cold outside and drizzling, and it was so warm in Annie's house, the fire roaring and the smell of Mags' peppermint tea steaming my nostrils. Here, at my house, the hearth is cold, and it smells dank. It feels lifeless. Annie's eyes had looked happier than usual tonight, and it only reiterates in my mind how worthless I am when I remember the instant, crushed confusion in them when I said I was leaving. I never leave early. I always stay late.

Something is changing.

It hasn't been long at all, I reason with myself. I've been back here for two days, for God's sake! So why the hell am I pacing the floor of my house like an insane person, wishing I had never left Annie's, trying to convince myself that I'm doing the right thing by trying to distance myself when all I've done is left a few hours early? What happens when I try to go a day without seeing her? A week? What happens when I try to simply let her go completely?

I can't. And it dawns on me why.

I care about Annie. Annie Cresta. My best friend. The girl with the white dress and the white seashells who is so broken and sweet and innocent, even after something as horrible as the Games. I care about her a hell of a lot more than I should too. What am I doing?

Of course I care about Annie. She is my friend. She always has been. I've always known this. But this. What is this I am feeling? This isn't the same thing that I've felt around my friends before. This isn't the same feeling I felt around her when I was thirteen.

I'm terrified. So terrified that I'm shaking and abruptly wishing Mags was here like always to comfort me, to tell me what I should do because I just don't know. But no, Annie needs her more, and I know that.

Tonight, I will have to wait this out alone and hope for the best in the morning. I don't know what's happening. We've just got home, and I've already lost control of how I feel around Annie. This can't be good.

There's thunder in the distance, and I groan.

It's going to be a long night.