Chapter Fifteen
Where the tour begins a tad early.
Annie could hear Mags in the other room, hissing at Gossamer over the phone. "Please, we have to make it sound official. We can't just start in Nine, that's out of order. Especially since you're visiting Cecelia every other weekend." She had never heard her so upset, so worried.
"What's going on in there?" asked Vance as he settled into the sofa cushions beside Annie. She curled up, bringing her knees to her chest, with a tired sigh. Annie could hardly manage a shrug, she had barely spoken at all since returning home – not to anyone besides Finnick, anyway. "Are you going to leave again?"
Again, Annie answered with a simple shrug. Her green eyes, darker than ever since getting home from the Arena, clouded with haunted memories like sand stirred in the water, barely shifted at all to look at him. In the Games, Annie had seen Vance in Hollis, her brother, a protector. Now, she saw Hollis in Vance, a more painful reverse. She drew herself away from Mag's words for the slightest second, just long enough to utter a few words to her brother. "I think so," she said quietly.
He reached out and placed a hand over her ear, half cupping her cheek and pressing her hair against her face. "I'll go with you this time," promised Vance. His eyes were sure and steady, Annie watched them dance sadly. From the corner of her eye, it was like she was looking into his head, she could see him watching her being reaped all over again. The Reaping replayed in his mind again and again; Annie, falling to the ground and being dragged to the stage by Peacekeepers and comforted by Finnick and then taken away. He couldn't be there, he couldn't have protected her. "I'm going to go, too."
Annie was caught in a whirlwind of emotions. There was a spark of relief set off in her mind; she wouldn't have to face everything alone if Vance was with her. She wouldn't spend nights wishing it wouldn't be awkward to go in and ask Finnick if it was alright to stay with him because she was afraid of the dark, and even worse, her own nightmares. Yet, Annie hated the thought of him being part of the Capitol's evil plot against her; she didn't want him to be in any danger or of any use against her.
"I don't know if you're allowed to," she said, hanging her head. She couldn't shake the hollowness eating away at her.
It had been worse earlier, when they had been recapping the Games on television. Unlike the events themselves, it was mandatory to watch, though many people in District Four did. It marked the last hoorah, the day when the children stop celebrating and return to training in the Career centers. Annie had been out several times since returning home, she couldn't bear to go into those parts of towns. Athletic boys and girls with wired muscle who would easily have killed her in the Arena without second thought were taking to her more kindly than they should. Before the Games, Annie would have been shunned. Now, she was a figure of admiration to them, and she hated that. She also hated what they whispered about Rayne; how they said he was weak like all of the tributes that didn't win. In reality, he was stronger than she was. He was the one who fought to win, not her. However, that is not how the recap portrayed her.
Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith had sat in a booth all afternoon in front of the cameras, reporting on the Games. Only, instead of following fan favorites and those with the best scores through the Arena, they followed Annie. They remarked briefly about her score in training, a three, and agreed upon how she deserved at least a seven. Her swimming skills and her knot-tying abilities were too good to ignore, the Gamemakers probably never gave her the chance to show off for them – that sort of thing. Annie couldn't break away from the clips of the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Caesar closed in on Annie as she examined the ring Finnick had given her as a token – the first thing she had done in the Arena – and made a few cute statements about how the Games had been good to them, bringing them true love and whatnot, and that they had now moved in together at the Victors' Village back in Four. No one could ignore the excitement flash through Annie's eyes as she saw the river for the first time, Claudius made it clear that it was the only reason Annie won. She couldn't argue. They said how daring a small girl like her was to dart in and back out of the bloodbath alive, with only a few images from Pascal. He was the one who had sliced her up as she ran away, not Hollis like she had thought.
She couldn't look as they showed clips from further on in the Games. Annie and her alliance with Hollis and Cael, making friends with the underdogs as Caesar had put it, won over many people in the Capitol. She hated hearing that, that they all thought she pitied them. Caesar was kind enough to assure the audience that Annie had made friends with Hollis in training and that was why they partnered up – she appreciated his way of winning over the crowds, he worded things so carefully that you couldn't help but love whatever he said. Annie shrunk back as they replayed their deaths, their murders. Soon, though, they had happily moved towards the communicator from Finnick and the alliance with Rayne. This was the Capitol's favorite highlight of the Games, naturally. It was also the time when they interviewed her family about her – something Annie was unaware of until then. Along with the footage of her saving Mira from drowning, a beautiful picture was painted of her, so strong yet so demure.
Then came her nightmares. Rayne's beheading. Hiding – Annie thought it had only been a few hours, but really it had been almost a day, the Gamemakers had kept the Arena in daylight. Pascal and Iem fought it out, tore each other apart, and everyone in the Capitol was certain that one of them was going to win. Annie was all but forgotten about. Then the Arena was flooded. Again, she learned her perception of time had been distorted by Gamemaker tricks. It had been hours before Iem and Pascal drowned, not minutes. Claudius made several foul remarks about how Annie won the Games without any blood on her hands, how she was weak, and she wholeheartedly agreed. The program had ended with Finnick reading his poem again.
Annie had been torn apart.
"I don't care, I'm going," protested Vance strongly. His eyes gleamed with a fiery strength Annie adored. He was protective of her, of their family, he always had been.
"Fine," sighed Mags, raising her voice slightly. It echoed off of the tiles in the kitchen. "We can start her off in Twelve and work our way back to the Capitol. She's scheduled to do her interview with Caesar next week, anyway. I'm sorry, where have you been? She couldn't do it right away because of her injuries and such!"
Even in separate rooms, Annie could hear Gossamer squealing with excitement on the other end of the line. It was too easy to imagine the spikey black-haired woman's glittering eyes light with happiness as she stood in some fine Capitol room. She didn't understand the severity of the situation, how the Capitol was watching her every move. It must be nice, Annie thought, to be living in a world of childlike ignorance.
Mags hobbled into the room, propped herself up on her cane beside the sofa arm, and looked to Annie and Vance with deep eyes whose colors shifted like a stormy day at sea. "Pack your bags, you two," she said. "Gossamer is meeting us at the train station in the morning."
For the first time since returning home, Annie slept. Even without Finnick there. It wasn't like the full night's sleep she had been accustomed to in her former daily life, or even like the light, haunted sleep she suffered through every year as the reaping approached. It was cold and empty, though heavy and without nightmares. Annie managed to stay up late enough that she exhausted herself into slumber. She didn't worry about Careers or Gamemakers emerging from the shadowy corners of her bedroom when she was that tired and flicked out the light before sleeping until the sun rose. It might have only been for two hours, but Annie was thankful for it.
Things were hastily thrown into Mags' suitcase that morning, just before they were supposed to be at the train station. Vance, Calypso, and Annie managed to stuff just enough into the bag before Mags noticed and sealed it up, though she suspected the woman knew all along. She stuck around to bid her parents goodbye as they trekked off to work, as well as to her brothers and Merrick. Annie lingered in her mother's arms a bit longer than she should have. She didn't want to leave again; her reason was that childishly simple.
They walked to the train station. Vance tried to draw as many words from Annie as he could, and she wished he would just stop. It made things unbelievably hard on her. It made her heart ache. It made her sick. Eventually, he resorted to asking about Finnick, a much easier topic on her. Calypso skipped ahead of them, even though she didn't know where she was going, and Annie watched her most of the time. It was refreshing how she could demand so much light to those around her.
The train station was unusually still. No reporters, no photographers, no distorted Capitol citizens stained with unnatural colors. Just the train and five people standing on the platform before it. Her prep team, her stylist, and Gossamer who couldn't take her eyes from her watch. Annie's eyes darted to the Peacekeepers standing in uniform behind them.
Annie watched her brother's expression shrivel into disgust as he laid eyes upon her prep team. Having never seen Capitol citizens in person before, his reaction was raw. She supposed that was what she looked like as well when she first saw them.
Ophelia bounced forward enthusiastically. Her eyes flashed with horror as she looked Annie over. Annie felt a twinge of disappointment; the woman's hair had been dyed from its natural shade to a grotesque looking red. "Just look at what you have done to yourself!" she exclaimed. Ophelia yanked at a lock of her hair, lifted her hand to examine her nails, and placed a finger under her chin to lift her face into the light. She shuttered.
"It's a good thing that District Twelve is nearly a day away, we will have plenty of time to work on you," chirped Charmant, pleased. His color scheme had been swapped, his hair was now pink and his tattoos were blue. His happy tone was too dulcet for Annie to listen to, mixed with the Capitol accent it was like having knifes stuck in her ears.
The Peacekeepers escorted Calypso and Vance back out of the train station, insisting that they couldn't go. Annie should have expected as much. One of them slipped her a kind word that they would make sure get home safe and sound.
They boarded the train and within five minutes, Annie was already growing claustrophobic. She passed the dining car and her old bedroom and Finnick's old bedroom – that was most particularly painful, she remembered how he pulled her aside and demanded that she try to win. She missed him.
"Here we are," said Gossamer, ushering Annie into the room modeled after the Remake Center. She wondered what this replaced. Annie was laid out on the 'operating table' by her prep team and they began work right away. The waxing, harsh shampoos and other various soaps that stung, and polishes that her body was doused with were not something she wanted to relive, but she kept quiet through the procedure just as she had before. She did, however, find herself fancying the shade of lavender that glossed over her nails. Annie, more desperate than distract herself than ever, had been paying more and more attention to colors. Finnick and Mags eyes, the sunsets, the ocean rumbling like thunder in the distance. She kept the littlest things committed to memory now.
Rea was in to visit much faster than last time, probably because the prep team didn't have as much work to do this time around. Any familiar face was welcomed by Annie, she was actually glad to see her stylist. "How have you been?" she asked with sympathetic eyes.
Annie just nodded. After a moment of thinking, selecting her words carefully, she answered, "Not so well."
Rea ran her fingers through Annie's hair, half inspecting and half comfortingly. "I'd be surprised if you weren't," she admitted. "You don't look broken down yet, so maybe things are getting better."
That wasn't true. Things were getting worse. Annie could blink without seeing some horror within the Arena. She agreed, though, for the sake of keeping things bottled up. "Yeah," she muttered.
She caught the distress that wrecked Annie's gaze. "So, I already have your dresses made up. They were going to be for the Victory Tour, but since this is being kicked off, I decided to use them."
Annie cocked her head, confused. "Why do you already have the dresses sewn?" she asked.
"I needed to keep busy after the Games," she whispered softly. Annie had misread something along the line of their conversation, or maybe even further back, but she knew now that the victors weren't the only ones suffering. What had been said to Rea? Annie shook her head, scolding herself, and decided that she didn't want to know. "So, for District Twelve, I created this violet gown. From what I have seen of the place, it's all covered in coal dust, all except the very seam of the district. By the fences, there are meadows filled with colorful flowers. I thought it would be nice to shower your dress with them."
"Flowers seem like a much better way to represent a district with such a miserable industry," said Annie quietly.
The image of an elaborate ball gown with creases and ruffles and folds, decked with so many living flowers one could hardly see the fabric came to Annie's mind. An hour later, when she was dressed and ready, Annie could barely recall that image.
She looked to herself in the mirror. It was Capitolesque, indeed, but not in the way she had expected. The violet gown fell to the floor, gathered at her waist, and clung to her torso. The loose petals were stitched to the hem of her skirt, beginning off white and deepening in hue the farther up the dress they were, eventually blending into the fabric. White to yellow, yellow to pink, pink to blue, blue to purple. And each was given a name, as well – rue flowers and evening and pink and blue primroses. Separate petals were sewn into mismatched flowers all over the dress. It was very pretty.
"It's good, right?" asked Rea. "Because I love it. It's very…you."
"Of course," agreed Mags as she poked her head in from the hallway. Her eyes sparkled cheerfully. "Who other than Annie could see District Twelve and think past the grit and grime of coal mining?"
It was awful and sickening how everything was covered with a permanent layer of coal dust in the district. Annie could see it in the worried lines of the men's and women's faces throughout Twelve, as well as in the cobblestone streets and the buildings and everything. Gossamer and Mags had explained to her that the Capitol allowed her out of District Four under the premise that she would be encouraging the Games, which was bad enough itself, but after seeing the place she couldn't imagine saying even a word about them. District Twelve was starving.
Out of absolutely nowhere, Finnick stood beside her with tired eyes embedded in dark circles. She knew she couldn't have been dreaming if he looked as awful as this. Annie's subconscious brought her Finnick before the Games, how he looked like this sometimes and it wasn't because the stress of training a helpless girl was eating away at him. She remembered how she had called him a whore. The entire picture fell into place suddenly, and Annie had a feeling she was the last one to understand it.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "What's happened to you?" Annie spat out questions one after another in a panic.
"Calm down, will you?" he asked with a smile as he pressed his lips to his forehead. Finnick knew all too well that there had to be cameras around, watching their every move. "It wasn't much. Just a rough few nights. You'd think that with all the pills going around in the Capitol–"
"Finnick!" scolded Mags, anger flashing in her eyes.
A giggle slipped past Annie's lips as they curled into a smile.
The pair looked at her in disbelief. Even Annie herself was shocked. She hadn't smiled, let alone laughed, since before the Arena. Finnick broke away from shock and into a wholehearted laugh as well. He draped his arms around her shoulders, kissed her forehead again, and lead her off of the platform. In only a matter of days, Annie had forgotten how reassuring it was to be so close to Finnick.
Gossamer trailed behind Annie like a flower girl required to hold a bride's train, she held the hem of her skirt above the dirty streets. Annie didn't feel as important as she was being treated.
They met the mayor in the district's square. He was better fed than anyone else Annie had seen passing in the district. He shook Annie's hand, and then Finnick's and Mags'. He smiled kindly to Annie. "You're not too much older than my daughter, only a couple of years," explained the mayor. "It's never been someone like you, not for as long as I can remember. You gave me a little more hope, especially with her in the reaping now."
Annie stammered, unsure of how to respond. Should she express pity? Should she be offended as to what 'someone like you' could have implied? She glanced to Finnick. He just nodded and squeezed her hand.
"It really shocked me that you, of all people, have decided to promote the Games," he whispered.
"I needed out of District Four, I suppose," said Annie quietly, matching his tone. Their eyes met for a brief second and, without words, Annie had told her story. She didn't know what she was doing. Finnick was the one with the answers.
Finnick was the one who had to do the dirty work. He gave a quick speech to the people already swarming in the market square, much to their displeasure. The feelings of the Games were too fresh to be touched; Annie could see it in all of their faces. It was the one time she felt awkward standing at Finnick's side. Gossamer lead them into the Justice Building, which in comparison to District Four's was like her cottage on the cliffs. Annie couldn't imagine a life like this, this crushing poverty and choking coal-filled air. Then again, the salt water was just as infectious.
"Hey!" A young woman caught Annie's arm as she stepped onto the boarding platform, more than ready to exit District Twelve. A millions faces rippled through her thoughts, bubbling to the surface of her mind; Rayne in the Arena, Finnick on multiple occasions, her mother to keep her from sneaking into the water one hot day at the beach, Vance holding her at arm's length the day of the reaping to reassure her. The touch of District Twelve was evident through her dull dark hair and olive skin. She was worn, like the rest of the district's residents, but somehow even more so. The same tiredness and panic had settled into her young face just as it had her parents and brothers, evident even now, weeks after the Games. Annie pulled away, not out of disgust, but of realization and horror.
The name fluttered from the tip of her tongue, merely a cold whisper. "Britte."
"He talked about me?" she ducked, hiding her face, hiding a smile that had all since disappeared since before the reaping. Annie supposed just the memory of him – not his death – was enough to cling to for her. Like Finnick's hand, in her equivalence, how he always seemed to pull her from the darkest, most disturbing and enthralling depths of her nightmares.
Of course he did, Annie wanted to say, but she could not force the words out. Forming the sound was too difficult, too frustrating, and came out like a throaty breath. She blushed in embarrassment. "Hollis talked about you the entire time," Annie said.
The young woman cringed at his name. Annie was dancing over wounds still too fresh to even begin to bandage. "They didn't pay much attention to him."
"I did." Annie gripped Finnick's hand. "I thought he was wonderful."
"Thank you," Britte gulped. "I'm sure he is, too."
It was like I let him die, Annie thought, he wouldn't be thanking me. Hollis, whom she had known for barely more than several days, had left such a phenomenal impression on her, it was unbelievable. His strong, warm, sincerely helpful handprint was left on her heart.
She was swept up onto the train by Finnick and Gossamer. Britte waved weakly as the train sped out of the station. The tarnished ring around her finger glinted in the dusty sunlight.
Something, an unnoticed nagging sensation in her chest, stirred within Annie.
So how about that Hunger Games movie, eh? :)
Upon the intense visual aspect of the film and rereading Catching Fire and Mockingjay, I have come to appreciate Annie and Finnick for the three dimensional characters that they are. I missed so much about them the first few times around. I cannot wait to bring new details into this story, I can't finish it if I don't. It will haunt me.
I really love every review, favorite, and follow this story brings to me. You're all fantastic. Please, continue to give me feedback. I don't want to disappoint with this story. Criticism is always welcome.