Chapter Eight

Where Finnick explains.

Finnick was stupid to think that because it was the Games, that because he was finally taking things seriously to please President Snow, he would get time off from being the Capitol's whore. He hated himself, lying there in the plushy Capitol bed feeling sorry for himself when Annie was in the Arena scared out of her mind, desperately trying to survive the first night. She was depending on him. She needed him. Yet, there he was, battered and worn, all because President Snow wanted to please everyone in his precious Capitol.

He was sinking slowly into the mattress as it formed to the shape of his body. Blankets and pillows were strewn across the bed around him, swallowing him up like the waves of the sea. Finnick stared at the ceiling blankly, wondering how he had become such an awful person. There was once a time when he feared the Games just as Annie did, dreaded the feeling of uncertainty when Gossamer reached into the glass balls with the slips of paper and his name was a possibility, and was as innocent as any child in the market square. He used to spend his afternoons with his father in the bay, helping to catch fish and learning to wield a trident. He used to be a kid. While his teenage years were coming to an end, Finnick had been a man far longer than he had wanted to be. He sighed, chest collapsing in on itself, blinking away the dryness in his eyes.

Finnick breathed slowly and quietly, controlling the soreness that had overtaken his muscles as best he could, and listened to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. "You can turn on the tele if you want," Persephone called to him, voice echoing off of the tiles. "They're probably playing the recap of the bloodbath today."

Though he struggled with pain, he managed to sit upright and press the button on the woman's nightstand that lowered the television into the room and turned it on. He had practically spent all of last year's Games in this bedroom; he was very familiar with it. Finnick watched, expression distant and shoulders hunched over, as footage from the Cornucopia was replayed and listened to Claudius Templesmith commented on the action. The man's voice made Finnick sick to his stomach. He was still angry with him for what he had said about his tribute last year, about how he had deserved to die.

His heart sped up excitedly, nervously as video of Annie was played on the screen. Finnick's eyes widened attentively as he impatiently waited to hear what had happened to her. He had been pulled from the mentor's room and whisked back off to the Capitol at Persephone's request before he could see what had happened to her after she escaped the Cornucopia, but he knew she would be safe because of the river that had been put there for District Four. The footage showed the girl sprinting away from the bloodbath, carrying two backpacks on one shoulder before it zoomed in to the ring on her finger. Finnick felt his heart drop.

"Annie Cresta didn't have this token until two minutes before she was launched into the Arena," explained Claudius. His pompous voice was terribly irritating to Finnick, and everything he said was even worse. "It was given to her by her mentor, Finnick Odair. It's too bad about those two; there is no doubt after the interviews with Caesar Flickerman that the two are madly in love with each other."

To Finnick, it sounded like something President Snow would say; only Claudius didn't have a voice edged by a razor and suspicion like the old man did. He said it almost genuinely, though Finnick was sure it was scripted by the president himself. He leaned back against the headboard and continued to watch as the footage jumped from clip to clip, mostly focusing on how well the Careers made out at the Cornucopia. They didn't show any more of Annie. He was jittering anxiously.

When Finnick had met Persephone on the platforms in the train station, she had been angry with him over Annie – even though she was well aware of his many other Capitol lovers. It was because she was from District Four, because she was real, that Persephone found reason to worry. She had beaten him down with questions during the cab ride to her lush apartment, demanding to know why he took enough of an interest in her to take those photos – which she called amateur and awful-looking, something he expected to hear. Finnick had no answer for her as to why he liked Annie so much, he sat through an awkward silence with her, trying to think of an answer himself. Why did he like Annie? He couldn't explain it without giving out the whole story, something that he had kept to himself for a very long time. The only other soul alive who knew anything was Mags, and Finnick doubted that her memory served her correctly. He sat through their 'romantic' dinner together replaying the story in his head, worrying about Annie in the Arena, and only trying to please his guest with a flirtatious comment here and there. Finnick knew that he should have been treating Persephone better, as she was the one paying for Annie to survive in the Games, but he couldn't help that his mind was so preoccupied.

Finnick first met Annie seven years ago at his first Reaping when he was unbelievably scared and stood in the market square practically alone. She, being only nine years old at the time, stood outside of the ropes that corralled the eligible kids to the center of the square, nervously clinging to her mother's hand. He didn't know who she was nor had he ever seen her before – District Four was rather large – but he remembered standing just a foot away from her, the rope the only thing separating them, and the panicked look on her face. Of course, Finnick had been terrified as well, and they found the slightest spark of friendship in that shared fear.

"Why are you scared?" he had asked her, slightly irritated. Finnick thought that because she had been outside of the ropes and safe from the Reaping that she shouldn't have been so scared.

"I have five older brothers and they're all in the Reaping this year," she whimpered, squeezing her mother's hand. Mrs. Cresta had reached down to pat her daughter's head and whispered words of reassurance in her ear.

"Oh." Finnick had lowered his head. He remembered feeling guilty for what he had said; he was an only child, but he figured that it had to be just as stressful to watch your siblings stand in the square as it was to be there yourself. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," she had told him. Even back then, Annie had just been golden. "Besides, you have nothing to worry about. My brother says that they picks older tributes from District Four on purpose, says that they are more entertainment for the Capitol. Better fighters."

"Hush, Annie." Mrs. Cresta had snapped, eyes widening with worry. She had glanced around nervously, checking to see if anyone had heard her daughter. "We don't say things like that. They aren't true." The woman gave Finnick a warning glance and then returned her attention to the stage, where Gossamer was happily making her speech.

That was the day that Annie had begun creeping up on him. Finnick doubted that Annie even remembered the exchange now, for when they had met again on the Reaping stage, she knew him only as the fourteen-year-old victor that he had become two years later. He had seen her several times in the market square after that day, usually admiring cakes in the bakery windows with her older brothers. They had bumped into each other once, the summer after he had won the Games, and she had run away from him terrified. Finnick had been so surprised; he stood with his mouth agape staring at the space where she had stood in utter shock.

Then came the day that he turned sixteen. Since having moved into the last vacant house in the Victors' Village and given more money than he could imagine by the Capitol every month, Finnick thought that his life and his parents' lives couldn't get better. His mother was planning a birthday dinner for him, something more extravagant than they had ever eaten before, and his father was going to take him out on the water for the afternoon. Only, he was pulled out of District Four that morning at President Snow's request before even starting to celebrate. Finnick had been dreading the day that he was told to begin mentoring other kids from District Four but the meeting with the president also brought upon news that no one had expected, not Mags who had coached him through the Games, not his parents who were so proud that he made it back alive, and certainly not Finnick. Prostitution. That was the only word that Finnick had for it and was so utterly disgusted that he flat-out refused and stormed from President Snow's office.

When he returned home, Finnick's parents weren't waiting for him at the train station the way they normally did when he returned from visits to the Capitol. His furry quickly faded when he saw Mags standing there instead, appearing even frailer as she had shown to deliver the grave news. While his father had been out on the water, Finnick's mother had gone 'missing'. His father had been detained in the Justice Building for questioning about the matter, although that was just a formality. Mags was certain that his mother had been killed by Peacekeepers – under orders from President Snow. It was then that Finnick was crushed under the weight of his sorrow and understood what new sort of game the president was forcing him into. But this world was much tougher than the Arena.

It was fate that Annie and Finnick met again the next day. For once, though, he didn't see the face of an innocent girl terrified because she lived in the reality of the Reaping. Finnick saw the face of an innocent girl who he might have to be instructing in the Games, growing attached to her and never seeing her return. That was now his reality – along with pleasing whomever the President instructed him to in the Capitol.

"How is she?" asked Persephone, stepping from the steamy bathroom. Finnick hadn't even heard the shower turn off. She sat beside him on the bed, adjusting the towel that she had wrapped around her torso. Seeing her in the light was something strange for Finnick, because now he could see just how plastically altered she was. It was so unnatural to him that it was sickening; it was a sight he would never grow accustomed to. Just another reason to love Annie; she was so pure and untouched, still nervous when undressing in front of others. "Has she been on yet?"

"Just a small recap," Finnick replied, tone unmoved, eyes not daring to break away from the screen. He couldn't afford to miss it if they showed Annie again. "They hardly said anything about her."

"Isn't she with the Careers?" Persephone was sincerely curious. But even so, the Games were still her favorite sort of entertainment and she treated them as such very lightly. To Finnick, they were nothing more than a nightmare. "They should be paying her a lot of attention then!"

He shook his head. Finnick knew that she was better off by herself anyway. If Annie had teamed up with the Careers like Rayne had, there was a greater chance of her dying in the Arena. The Careers tended to pick off the weakest link first every year – and it would have surely been Annie. "She's a loner," he explained. "That's why I need you to sponsor her."

"Ohhhh," Persephone nodded, understanding. She may be a Capitol citizen, but she was nowhere near as slow as the rest of them. "So that's what you're going to use the gift for!"

Finnick nodded. He was still two nights short of sending it to Annie, considering that the prices of each gift go up in value the longer that the tributes are in the Arena. But he could do it, two more nights was nothing anymore. He shivered, disgusted with himself once again. Finnick did his best to shake away the repulsion, but his crawling skin was harder to ignore.

He hardly felt like himself, sitting there on the bed with the touch of the woman's light fingertips lingering on his skin. Finnick's longing to be with Annie was more powerful than ever, and it was consuming his every thought. The girl was District Four to him, minus the Careers and starvation and hard labor. She was a little piece of home that showed up on the Reaping stage and broke his heart. Annie had crept up on him over the course of years and she had no idea. He enjoyed their time together on the train and in the Training Center too much, despite knowing what could happen to her in the Arena. She made him happy. His eyes widened in realization. She made him happy.

"Oh, look, Finnick!" squealed Persephone. It still shocked him to hear her voice shift from a 'seductive' woman's to something like a little girl's – though, he really thought it sounded like an awkward boy going through puberty. "There she is!"

Finnick's distant gaze snapped into focus at the television screen. Annie was shown, nesting in a small burrow at the base of a tree, hidden from the other tributes. She appeared to be alone and sorting through the backpacks that she had managed to grab. Food and water and ropes. That was all the girl really needed. Finnick's eyes lit up and he dared to smile. She stood a chance now. A million things were swimming through his mind, all of them ideas as to what she could do with those ropes. Set a trap. Tie a noose. Go fishing.

"It seems that Annie made off fairly well at the Cornucopia," says Claudius Templesmith over the footage. "She should consider herself lucky – she has made it to the top ten in just the first day!" The screen changes to the list of tributes that were killed that day. Finnick counts fourteen, over half of Annie's competition and the most he had ever seen taken out on the first day. "Fourteen tributes down, nine more until we have our winner! It looks like these Games are going by fast!"

"Whoa." Persephone gasped, dumbfounded. "Fourteen," she repeats, in just as much shock as Finnick. "Fourteen in the first day? That's ridiculous!" The woman nudges Finnick. "Seems like the odds are in your favor after all!"

Finnick didn't answer. He was too busy staring at the faces of the day's victims, ignoring their deaths that replayed on the left half of the screen. All of the Careers and Annie survived, the only others worth noting were the surviving pair from Twelve. The boy from Eleven was out, the only one people seemed to care about, leaving his twin sister in the Arena. All that mattered was that Annie was safe and was going to make it through the night. He allowed himself to sigh in relief, though his body still shook tensely.

Persephone ran her fingers down his bare spine, sending chills through his body. "I'll let you go early tonight," she told him, switching off the television. "Just promise that you'll be back tomorrow."

"Of course," Finnick assures halfheartedly. He dragged himself from the bed and dressed, heading for the door within minutes. He took his time descending the back flights of stairs instead of the elevator, wanting time to think. His thoughts consisted solely of Annie. The cab he hailed drove him back to the Training Center, the only place he knew would welcome him at this hour. He sprinted down the familiar hallways to Gossamer's empty room, unable to go back to his own because his mind tied Annie to it. Finnick burst through the door and rushed to the phone, fingers fumbling as he rushed to dial the only number he could.

"Hello?" said Mags drowsily. She was one of the few people that actually liked Finnick, and since he returned from the Games, they made a promise always to answer each other's phone calls. She was like his grandmother, more than willing to take care of him even outside of the Arena. He wanted to cry at the sound of her voice. "Finn?"

"I don't want to do this anymore, Mags," he muttered into the receiver. It wasn't the usual nature of his calls. "I can't do this anymore."

The old woman didn't say anything; she just stood breathing into the telephone line for the longest time. The last the pair had shared a late night call like this was years ago, when Finnick was just as overwhelmed by being a victor and the Capitol's sick plans for him and the loss of his mother. Mags listened while Finnick poured out every demon he had with the world. His anger was swelling inside of him and he didn't even attempt to talk through it, knowing that he would only end up screaming. He didn't want to make Mags listen to that. She was too good for this, too good for all of this. She knew a world before the Games. She lived through the Dark Days. Finnick knew that she had been through enough to know how insignificant his suffering was. But he was still a child in her eyes – eyes that had seen so much – and she repeatedly promised to be supportive of him, whatever that entailed. Mags broke the silence and his train of thought. "I'm not going to tell you that it gets any easier, dear. But I want you to know that we are going to bring Annie back alive, you just have to make it through the worst of the storm."

Finnick choked on his words. "Mags, I…" He drew in a sharp breath and started over, resting back against the headboard of the bed. His half-lidded eyes dulled. "Mags, what are you thinking? You have to worry about Rayne."

"You should hear the way that nasty boy from District One talks about him," she spits in frustration. "They are planning to pick him off first out of the Careers, they know he would win if they let him live for too long."

For a moment, Finnick wondered how she knew what was happening in the Arena. Then, he remembered that just another luxury that they have in the Capitol is being able to follow the tributes in the Arena at the click of a button, despite what they plan to show to the rest of Panem – whether it be for sponsorships, keeping tabs on favorite districts aside from the fights, or just entertainment. He hated it and what it was used for, but Mags had good reason to watch as much of the Games as she could. It was at the click of a button that probably rested just below her fingertips. After that initial thought, he felt sick knowing that Rayne was going to be killed.

"They were all meant to die," says Finnick sadly. "There is no ignoring it." And if they didn't die, they were damaged goods. Finnick was, Mags was, Annie would be. There wasn't a single victor that he had met that wasn't left in a worse off mental states from the Games than before they went into the Arena. "Just like we were."

They talked for hours. They talked about everything from the Games to Annie and Rayne to District Four to fishing. It still amazed Finnick how Mags could describe how to make a fish hook out of anything – and the fact that she could still swim well for a seventy-something-year-old. His worries were soothed away by their conversations. Finnick could sit and listen to her for as long as he could before his eyes began drooping and his shoulders slouched over. Soon, it wasn't a conversation anymore; it was Mags telling Finnick whatever he needed to hear to save him from a pending anxiety attack.

"We will take her back to District Four and go through all of your mother's old cookbooks and make her a lovely seafood dinner that rivals that the Capitol makes," Mags told him. "And then we can go out swimming. You and Annie can go swimming and fishing and whatever else and I can sit on the docks to supervise you."

This made Finnick smile.

"After that, we will go into the market and buy out all of the cakes in the bakery. One can be for us, and all of the rest can be sliced up and served in the market to whoever wants a piece." This was like an old joke to them; they had done this once before just after Finnick mentored to kids to their deaths in the Arena. Mags brought him into the market square, to which he reluctantly dragged his feet, and then into the bakery. She dropped a sack of coins onto the counter and the baker smiled at her, taking the money into the back of the shop. He returned with three boxes, disappeared and returned with three more, and repeated this until there were nothing left in the back. Finnick had peeked inside to see what the boxes contained and found cakes, more than he knew the bakery made. The pair personally dished out every slice to the people in the market square and saved a dozen for the fishermen docking in the marina. Finnick had never smiled so much in his life. People didn't treat him well that day because he was a victor; they treated him well because he deserved it. "Everyone will just have so much fun and be so full they will have forgotten what it was like to be starving. Then, when we go home, we will celebrate such a wonderful day and sleep for days."

Finnick dozed off with a smile on his lips and the phone resting on his shoulder. Mags called to him several times before hanging up, figuring that he had fallen asleep. Soon, the dial tone rang faintly in his ears, though his conscious mind didn't hear it. While he slept, Finnick dreamt of spearing fish in the bay while Annie and Mags sat on the docks watching, dipping their toes in the waves. Every time that he looked over at them, they were smiling. There was not a single dismal thought remaining in his mind while he watched them so happy, they were wiped away cleanly.

"Finnick!" Mags snapped at him. She had dialed the number he had called from repeatedly until finally got through. "Finnick, turn on your television right now! It's Annie! Watch Annie!"

His eyes fluttered open at the scratchy sound of her pleas. "Annie! Annie! Annie!" Finnick's mind shifted into panic mode as he heard her name being called. It took him a minute to shake himself a wake before he managed to turn on the television and flick to the option of following Annie in the Arena. His fingers fumbled nervously, tingling numbly. The television flickered a moment before adjusting the picture to the screen.

Annie was nested in the burrow created by thick tree roots in which the recap had showed her examining her backpacks in, only now she was resting tiredly back against the trunk of the tree and holding a limp boy in her lap. She was stroking his hair gently, slicking it back from his young face. He couldn't have been more than thirteen, barely eligible for the Games. Annie's face was red and flustered; her dark hair clung to her damp forehead. It had rained in the Arena and everything was soaked. Sitting back on a root across from her was the boy from District Twelve; the one Annie said to have talked with in the gym.

Finnick's eyes widened. His grip around the telephone tightened, but he didn't hold it to his ear. Instead, he watched Annie, still and enthralled.

"So, we've got an alliance?" asked Hollis, digging the toes of his boots into the dirt.

Annie hesitated for a moment, mouth hanging open in the rain. Drops of rain rolled off of her plump lips and dribbled from her chin. "I suppose so…" she trailed off. It was such an Annie response it pained Finnick's heard.

The boy in Annie's arms stirred. Finnick knew his face was familiar, but he could not place why. "Uhn," he groaned. His lips formed inaudible words.

"Shh," Annie shushed him. Her voice was loving, motherly. She had that in her, Finnick suspected, that strong quality that shown through and foreshadowed a great mother. It reminded him of his own mom. She held her hand over his sickly pale forehead. "Cael, moaning isn't going to do you any good."

"He's only got a few hours," Hollis confirmed, lowering his head sadly. The only sound between them was the patter of the rain on the leaves overhead. "He doesn't need to be chastised."

The girl nodded and wiped away her stringy hair from her face.

"I don't want to," whined the boy. He was nothing more than a child, really – a child with a face that was so vaguely familiar to Finnick it was irritating. His blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight brightly, despite being wounded and on the brink of death. The cameras allowed a fair glance at his pale chest and the deep gash that sliced open his abdomen. Annie's jacket had been pressed over it, but she was ringing out the blood now. Finnick wanted to scold her for doing so, since now she might very well freeze to death without the reflective body heat. At least there was a blanket draped over her shoulders. "I don't want to die. I almost had it too! The girl…the girl from One was quicker."

"I know," crooned Annie, running her fingers through his hair. Finnick wanted her to do that with him, to play with his hair like that, but he shook the image to his mind when he realized how sick of a time it was for him to be thinking like that. But as soon as the thought was gone, his mind was drenched with guilt. "I know. And no one blames you."

"Do you think that they will show this on television?" Hollis asked absentmindedly, leaning forward to rest on his knees, calmly controlling the trio with his sureness. Cael had been screaming and instantly silenced at the sound of his voice. "What we've been talking about?"

Annie shook her head. "I doubt it."

"I don't want her to have to see me like this, at my worst," muttered Hollis under his breath.

"Britte would understand, right? The Games always bring out people at their worst." Annie sounded like she had been aged years in the Arena. As the cameras zoomed in on her face, Finnick could now clearly see the dark circles forming under her eyes. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks, when it reality it had only been days. Finnick found himself having difficulty breathing, watching her suffer like that. He was supposed to be protecting her!

"What about Finnick?" asked Cael, weak as he shifted in Annie's lap. Finnick could place the boy's face now; he was a dead-ringer for his mother, Elyria Marsh, the woman from District Ten who had won fifteen years or so ago. She had met Finnick at the Games last year, when they had both been mentors. It was no coincidence that this child was in the Arena; the odds had never been in his favor. Finnick wondered if Annie knew this. "Aren't you worried about how he'll see you?"

Annie choked out a chuckle, though tears swelled in her eyes. Her smile looked so agonizingly forced it was difficult for Finnick to look at. She was miserable. "Finnick's already seen me as a sobbing mess, seen me hysterical, seen me dyed blue, and seen me naked. There isn't a side left of me for him to see."

"In love?" Hollis offered. "Have you told him that?"

Annie shrugged. "Well…there's that."

A chill rocketed up Finnick's spine. He should have been happy. He should have been ecstatic. But the Capitol had seen this, and possibly even President Snow. And that meant they knew Annie was his weakness, or one of them. He was now going to be stuck being used by them for the rest of his life because he had to keep her safe. Finnick's heart sank.

It was over for them.

Okay, I know I only updated yesterday, but I have had this chapter done for a while and I couldn't wait for you all to read it. I felt so guilty when I was writing it, simply because of everything that has happened to Finnick and how he is used. Yet, I know it is crucial to the plot of the story. I hope it wasn't too awful.

I want to thank you for reviews/favorites/followers, as always. I would also like to forewarn you that I don't know when I will be able to update next, I've been having trouble starting chapter nine. Thank you for reading! Please review!