Finnick watched nervously as Katniss and Johanna disappeared into the forest, unrolling the spool of wire as they went. Actually, nervously was an understatement; his nerves were stretched as taut as the wire itself.

"Now, remember," said Beetee, pushing his glasses up his nose, "the main thing is to stay calm. Just keep a cool head."

Peeta grunted and nodded. His nerves manifested themselves in that he had shut up tight as a clam and was just standing there, arms folded. Finnick, on the other hand, couldn't keep still. He began pacing restlessly in a tight circle, tracing the path his feet made over and over and over –

"Cut that out, will you?" snapped Peeta. "You're driving me crazy!"

"All right!" Finnick shot back. But even when he forced himself to stand in one spot, he still couldn't be motionless – his fingers began drumming restlessly on his thighs, tapping out an endless rhythm…

"I said STOP!" shouted Peeta, actually reaching over to grab Finnick's fingers. Finnick slapped his hand away, lips pulled back over his teeth. Peeta probably would have punched him if Beetee hadn't thrown himself between them.

"Stop!" he gasped. Finnick and Peeta continued to glare at each other. Beetee put a hand on each of their chests, trying to push them apart. "Have you forgotten who the enemy is?"

Peeta's expression flickered in surprise before it switched back to sullen agreement and he stomped back to stand next to the tree. Finnick considered pacing again, just to piss him off, but decided against it. He had to move, though, or go mad…

"How long do you think it will take them to get to the water and back?" asked Peeta tersely.

Beetee considered. "Probably about thirty minutes."

"How long do you think it's been since they left?"

"No more than ten minutes."

Peeta blew out a breath, his fingers tapping restlessly against his arms. In the tense silence, the hot, moist air was more oppressive than ever. Beetee sat down on a tree root, wincing – his stab wound still obviously hurt. As the quiet continued, Finnick began pacing again.

"How much longer now?" demanded Peeta suddenly.

"It's been less than five minutes," said Beetee patiently. "Just wait."

More silence.

"How much longer now?"

"Peeta!" growled Finnick, ready to choke him. But the insect clicking started up next door, and Finnick's immediate instinct was to freeze, as if the bugs would jump out and strip the flesh off his bones in seconds.

"That's the insects," said Peeta, nerves evident in his voice. "That means it's eleven. Shouldn't they be back by now?"

"We're fine," said Beetee firmly. "Peeta, you need to relax, or we'll never pull this off. You too, Finnick."

Nice. Telling him to relax, all the while knowing that if this didn't work they would probably be executed in some horrific manner (after being tortured and interrogated, of course). Relax? Sure. Just trust their future to a thin wire and a ripply patch in a forcefield…totally cool.

Why the hell had Finnick ever signed up for this stupid plan?
"How much longer now?"

"Peeta! I swear to God I'll – "

"Look!"

Both of them turned automatically at Beetee's sharp command. At first, Finnick couldn't understand what was wrong. Then he saw that the golden wire, formerly taught and stretched, now lay on the ground in slack coils.

Finnick's blood literally ran cold at the sight. He couldn't move…his nerves couldn't take much more…

Someone shoved him hard from behind, and he stumbled forward. Spinning around, he saw Peeta, face red under the green warpaint.

"What did you do?" he screamed, apparently having lost all control.

"I don't know!" Finnick shouted back, not much better off himself.

"What's going on?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"Stop!" snapped Beetee. "Another tribute has cut the wire, probably a Career. Now – "

"A Career?" Peeta was so stressed his voice broke. "What if – "

"SHUT UP!" shouted Beetee. Finnick and Peeta froze, staring at him. "If there's a Career nearby, do you want him or her hearing us?" Without waiting for them to answer, he continued issuing orders in a clipped voice. "Finnick, you can run the fastest of any of us. Go get Katniss and Johanna and bring them back. If you meet Brutus or Enobaria, take them out!"

"Right!" Finnick was about to bound off when he stopped in his tracks, arrested by a sudden thought. "Beetee…should we take out the tracker?"

His and Beetee's eyes met, judging the desperation of the situation, the possible effects.

"Yes!" said Beetee. "Come here."

Finnick jumped to his side, ignoring Peeta's cry of "What are you doing?" Beetee took a small knife from his belt and with neat, surgical strokes cut the tracker out of Finnick's arm. In less than half a minute it was out and the wound was bound with moss.

"Go!" shouted Beetee, slapping him on the back, and Finnick was off, running through the forest at a speed he'd never thought possible. He followed Katniss and Johanna's trail, long legs hurtling him over tangled vines and shrubs, his heart pounding, his lungs pumping, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like mad. He knew he was making a hell of a lot of noise, crashing through the undergrowth like this, but speed was more important, and at any rate the bugs were so loud no one could probably hear him anyway. "Katniss!" he yelled, with the little air left in his lungs. "Johanna!" He was flying through the forest, going so quickly he nearly didn't see the pool of red on the ground –

Finnick skidded to a stop, horrified. There was the spool and other end of Beetee's wire, half-hidden under a tangle of vines and leaves that were dyed crimson with blood. "Johanna! Katniss!" he shouted, but no one answered. He could see another path someone had blazed through the undergrowth and rushed down it in desperation, thinking. Please, God, don't let her be dead…

He nearly crashed into Johanna, stopping so suddenly he tripped over his feet and almost fell against her anyway. Johanna whipped around before he had recovered his balance, her eyes wide and her front sprayed with blood.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"How should I know?" gasped Finnick. "What's all that blood?"

"Someone cut the wire – "

"I know!" shouted Finnick. "Where's Katniss?"

"She's back with the wire," gabbled Johanna. "I knocked her out and cut the tracker out, and then I ran off so Brutus and Enobaria would follow – "

"You left her?" screamed Finnick. His nerves were at a breaking point –

"I had too!" shouted Johanna. "The Careers were coming, what else could I bloody – "

Finnick shoved her to the ground and ran off again, ignoring her pleas for him to come back. How could she…how – bloody – could – she –

Something darted past Finnick in the darkness, a bat or large bird. The shock of fear was like a jolt of electricity; it pushed him to go even faster, to run so hard his lungs and legs were on fire and he feared his heart might burst.

"Katniss!" called Peeta, from somewhere in the forest. "Katniss!"

"Peeta!" she screamed back, clearly desperate. "Peeta! I'm here!" Finnick forced himself to run faster, faster, faster, willing himself to get there before any of the others did, his breath coming in great gasps, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, his pulse throbbing in his temples and wounded arm –

Another shadow darted in front of him, but this time it was a human figure. Still running, the figure looked back, and Finnick caught the gleam of light on gilded, bared teeth. Enobaria.

She practically shrieked at him, and put on a burst of speed. Suddenly, the hunter burst into life inside Finnick, his second wind kicking in. With an animal cry of his own, he raced after Enobaria, feeling the exhilaration of a predator chasing its prey as they raced through the forest, shadows sliding over their skin and vines and twigs whipping their faces –

Enobaria burst into the clearing around the lightning tree. It was clearly that one – gold wire gleamed around the massive trunk – but Peeta and Beetee were gone. The savage hunter inside of Finnick barely cared. All he wanted was to take down the muscled form of Enobaria in front of him – despite the fact he had no weapons –

Two feet away from the force field, Enobaria skidded to a halt. Finnick's momentum rocketed him past her, but he spun around on the spot, ready to leap, ready to strike –

Enobaria hissed at him –

And then the world exploded into a blue so bright it blinded Finnick. An electric crackling ran through the air, the entire forcefield blazing. The force of the following explosions hurled him to the ground so violently his head slammed into a rock. For a split second, Finnick saw stars and a dazzling array of colors…

Then everything turned black, and he knew no more.

Finnick groaned, his eyelids flickering. His head hurt…hurt like hell…

"Finnick?"

Whoever it was, their voice reverberated through Finnick's skull horribly. His head was spinning, and he felt a little nauseous, too…if he hadn't known better, he'd have thought he was hungover.

"Can you hear me, Finnick?"

Finnick ignored the voice, struggling to remember where he was and how he had gotten here. Lightning…shadows…blood on the ground…danger, danger everywhere…

"Annie!" he exclaimed, and would have jerked upright were it not for the restraining hand on his shoulder and the awful swirling dizziness in his head.

"She's fine, Finnick," said the voice, and he finally identified it as that of Plutarch Heavensbee. "She's absolutely safe."

"Sure?" demanded Finnick, eyeing the Gamemaker warily. He looked older, tired somehow. Certainly he wasn't as cheerful as he had been in the Capitol. "You're positive she's safe?"

"Finnick, I swore I'd do everything in my power to protect her," said Heavensbee.

"Then why isn't she here?" he shot back, sure that if Annie was wherever "here" was at all, she'd be inseparable from him.

"She's still in District Four," answered Heavensbee. Was he really not meeting Finnick's eyes, or was Finnick imagining things? "To get her would attract too much attention to us…but I swear, we'll pick her up at the first possible moment," he added, quailing under Finnick's glare.

"Fine." Finnick acquiesced, sighing. For the first time, he looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was lying in a bed in what looked like a typical hospital ward, with two rows of half a dozen beds each arranged to face each other across a center aisle. Heavensbee was seated in a plastic chair next to him. About two beds down and across the aisle, he saw Beetee. He was clearly in critical condition. The number of contraptions keeping him alive couldn't mean anything else.

And two beds down to his right…Finnick turned his head and saw Katniss. She was unconscious, tubes hooked into her left arm, her hands tied to the table. Her forehead was bruised and her breathing irregular. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes wandered restlessly.

"What – what happened?" said Finnick hoarsely. Seeing all the medical stuff made him conscious of the tubing coming out of his own arm. "Where's the others?"

Heavensbee sighed. "I'm afraid that after you left Peeta and Beetee, Peeta panicked. He seemed to think he and Katniss were victims of some Career plot involving you, Beetee, and Johanna…so before Beetee could cut his tracker out, he hit Beetee on the head and ran to find Katniss. Along the way, however, he ran into Brutus. They fought…Peeta killed Brutus."

"Oh." Finnick felt some regret for Brutus's death, but not a whole lot. "And then what?"

His large hands folded, Heavensbee sighed again. "Then Katniss blew the forcefield. Thankfully, she was able to understand what needed to be done, even with Beetee unconscious and her own injuries. We came in with the hovercraft as quickly as possible, but the three of you were closer, and…well, the long and short of it is that the Capitol has Enobaria, Johanna, and Peeta as prisoners."

It was funny, really, how you never realized how much you cared about someone until they were in real danger. Finnick had never liked Johanna, and he'd always thought Peeta a bit of an idiot, but now that they were in the Capitol's clutches, he was worried about them. More than worried. Finnick was seriously scared.

"Can I – am I well enough to get up?" His head was still hurting, but it was reduced to a dull throb, and he didn't feel nearly as dizzy. Now that the nausea was subsiding, he was ravenously hungry.

"I don't know," said Heavensbee. "Let's see what Dr. Ward thinks."

Dr. Ward turned out to be a tall, graying woman in her mid-forties, and a competent doctor. Although she gave Finnick a long, sharp look from behind her glasses (not at all fooled when he lied and said his head didn't hurt), she gave him permission to leave the hospital ward, telling him to contact her immediately if she started feeling dizzy again, experiencing blackouts, seeing lights, etc., etc. She and Heavensbee then left, leaving Finnick to dress himself in dark gray jeans and a longsleeved gray shirt. He avoided looking at either Beetee or Katniss. Their stillness frightened him, even if – or maybe because – they were alive.

Heavensbee was waiting for him outside the door. "I bet you're hungry," he said.

"Starving," replied Finnick.

"I'm not surprised," said Heavensbee. "Your last meal was over a day ago."

"I've been out a whole day? Damn."

The hallway led to a room with a table and windows. Finnick realized the window wall was curved and that they were far above the ground. "We're in a hovercraft?

"Now what gave you that impression?" said Haymitch sarcastically, striding in from another door. He looked a little haggard, too. "Yes, we're in a hovercraft."

"Going where?" asked Finnick, seating himself at the table. The smells coming from the food – tomato soup, rolls, roast chicken and rice with almonds and raisins in it – made his stomach snarl painfully.

There was the slightest pause as Haymitch and Heavensbee exchanged glances. "District Thirteen," said Haymitch.

Finnick choked on his roll. "Thirteen?" he gasped, between coughs. Heavensbee thumped him helpfully on the back.

"Thirteen," confirmed Haymitch, over the sounds of Finnick expelling bits of bread from his windpipe. "You can see why you weren't told this before."

"But Thirteen's dead," exclaimed Finnick. "There's nothing left! They blew it up!"

" 'They' left quite a lot of Thirteen underground," said Haymitch dryly. "Thirteen has built itself up over the past seventy-five years and now has military technology to rival the Capitol."

Finnick stared at Haymitch. "And no one knows?"

"No one. Well, a select few," he amended. "Like us."

"Right," said Finnick, with his mouth full, and turned his full attention to eating. Sure, Thirteen still being alive was a shock, but less important at the moment than getting something in his stomach.

Haymitch was looking from Finnick to Heavensbee with one eyebrow raised sardonically. "So you haven't told him then?"

"Told me what?" said Finnick absentmindedly through a mouthful of chicken and rice.

Heavensbee did not respond. Nor did he meet Finnick's eyes.

Finnick swallowed. "Told me what?" he demanded.

Looking down, Heavensbee fiddled nervously with a fork. Haymitch smirked, enjoying the Gamemaker's discomfiture.

"What?" demanded Finnick. "Plutarch – "

Heavensbee flushed an uncomfortable red. He still would not look Finnick in the eyes.

Haymitch turned to Finnick with a strange sort of bitter smugness. "What did he tell you about your dearly beloved?"

Finnick went cold. "He said – he said she was safe in District Four," he said through a dry mouth.

"In District Four, sure, but hardly safe. Didn't he tell you the districts are rebelling? Four is just one big violent mess."

His extremities numb, Finnick stared at the red-faced Heavensbee. "No. He didn't tell me."

"Well, that's how it is. Right now it's a free-for-all between the Peacekeepers and rebels. Innocent citizens have been caught in the crossfire already."

An angry shiver ran down Finnick's spine. He couldn't see his own expression, but it must have daunted Heavensbee, because he shrank back in his chair with his palms facing Finnick.

"It's not that bad," he stammered. "I swear, Finnick, if she were in real danger I would have told you…Your friends are doing everything they can to protect her. She even has a guard, I think your father is on it."

Finnick glared at him, his anger rising. Did he honestly think that would reassure him? That he would be glad to hear Riley, as well as Annie, was at risk?

"You – stupid – fat – man," he bit off. "Do you call that 'doing everything in your power' to protect her? You left Annie in the middle of a f—king rebellion!"

"I had no choice!" snapped Heavensbee, his face flushed with anger now. "Do you have any idea what you're talking about? How careful I have to be? Getting away with this under the nose of President Snow was a miracle! We're lucky to be alive at all, and you're lucky Annie's still relatively free! If it weren't for me – " he jabbed himself in the chest with his finger " – she'd be at the Capitol right now! And you call me stupid! You ignorant little boy!"

Finnick's cheeks burned and he dropped his head, his anger fading (though he reserved some for Haymitch, who had the gall to snigger at him). "All right," he said. "Then how soon do you think we can get her?"

Heavensbee, breathing hard from his little rant, leaned back in his chair. "I'm not sure," he said meditatively, his ire waning as quickly as Finnick's. "A month, at least."

"A month?" Finnick's heart sank – he'd thought a week, at most. And with the anger gone, there was room for a very different emotion to flood his heart – despair. "It'll take that long?" he croaked.
Heavensbee spread his palms out in a gesture of apology. "That's the way it has to be."

Sighing, Finnick dropped his face into his hands, trying to come to terms with the facts. Annie, in the midst of a violent rebellion for over a month…he wasn't sure if he could stand the thought.

"Could you at least take me to see her?" he asked hoarsely, though without much hope of a positive answer. Heavensbee shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry. There's no way I can get you to Four. But I've given special orders for her retrieval if possible. It's the best I can do, Finnick."

The best wouldn't be good enough. Finnick could see it now – the Peacekeeper army storming through the city, merciless in their black and gray, gunning down Annie's informal guard, setting fire to the victors' mansions…

"I can't live like this," he groaned, letting his head fall onto his arms. "I won't."

"Don't be stupid," said Haymitch. "That's the worst thing you could do. Get her killed for sure. As long as you're alive, they'll keep her alive for bait."

Right, that was real comforting. Before Finnick could correct Haymitch's misinterpretation – apparently he thought he was suicidal – the doors slammed open to reveal a wild-eyed Katniss, standing there in her hospital gown and clutching an empty syringe.

"Done knocking yourself out, sweetheart?" said Haymitch irritably. She took an unsteady step forward and would have fallen had not Haymitch darted out of his seat and caught her wrists. "So it's you and a syringe against the Capitol?" he said, ignoring her blank look. "See, this is why no one lets you make the plans. Drop it." His left hand tightened around her wrist until her fingers jerked open and the syringe clattered to the floor.

As Haymitch seated Katniss next to Finnick and Heavensbee handed her food and utensils, Finnick got a good look at her. She didn't look that bad – face somewhat bruised, hair a little tangled – until you looked at the eyes. They looked panicked, frightened, dazed…absolutely desperate. It frightened Finnick, and he realized why. That was how Annie had looked right after her Games. It was that look, transported onto Katniss's face. He shivered.

Finnick watched her nervously as Haymitch told her about the plot. Had she gone mad? He couldn't tell…for all his experience with Annie, he had no way to recognize the symptoms in another. She might just be in shock from recent events and the weight of all this new information…

"You didn't tell me," she rasped.

"Neither you nor Peeta were told," said Heavensbee. "We couldn't risk it. I was even worried you might mention my indiscretion with the watch during the Games. Of course, when I showed you this, I was merely tipping you off about the arena. As a mentor. I thought it might be a first step toward gaining your trust. I never dreamed you'd be a tribute again." As he was speaking, he had taken out a pocket watch and stroked it once with his thumb, causing crystals on its face to light up in a pattern Finnick couldn't decipher in those brief seconds. Obviously, though, it had some significance for Katniss, because her eyebrows met momentarily.

"I still don't understand why Peeta and I weren't let in on the plan," she said. She sounded frustrated, but not unbalanced. Finnick let out a cautious sigh of relief.

"Because once the force field blew, you'd be the first ones they'd try to capture, and the less you knew, the better," answered Haymitch..

"The first ones? Why?"

Did she really have no idea? "For the same reason the rest of us agreed to die to keep you alive," said Finnick, trailing his spoon through his bowl of soup.

"No, Johanna tried to kill me."

"Johanna knocked you out to cut the tracker from your arm and lead Brutus and Enobaria away from you," said Haymitch. Privately, Finnick thought Johanna had chickened out, but that probably wasn't the best thing to tell Katniss.

"What?" Looking up, Finnick saw her face was screwed up in confusion. "I don't know what you're – "

"We had to save you because you're the mockingjay, Katniss," cut in Heavensbee. He spoke slowly, emphatically, willing her to understand every word. "While you live, the revolution lives."

Finnick watched her face. First she was shocked. Then, slowly, the surprise faded into unwilling belief as events clicked together in her mind. And then, as her eyes turned to Haymitch, the belief sank into despair.

"Peeta," she whispered.

"The others kept Peeta alive because if he died, we knew there'd be no keeping you in an alliance. And we couldn't risk leaving you unprotected," said Haymitch. Despite his unimpassioned delivery, his face paled slightly.

"Where is Peeta?" hissed Katniss, with a venom to rival Johanna. Finnick suddenly realized he had a very good reason to be afraid of her reaction when she found her quasi-lover was the Capitol's prisoner…

"He was picked up by the Capitol along with Johanna and Enobaria," said Haymitch. Just like Heavensbee earlier with Finnick, he couldn't meet Katniss's eyes.

There was a split second of silence as Katniss digested this information. Then she launched herself across the table at Haymitch, fingers arched like claws. By the time Finnick had jumped up and grabbed her around the waist she had already scratched long bloody lines down Haymitch's face. She and Haymitch were both screaming and cursing at each other, Haymitch with one hand clamped on his damaged eye, Katniss resisting Finnick's grasp furiously as he tried to pull her away.

Two attendants – medical or military, Finnick wasn't sure, their pale gray uniforms were singularly nondescript – came rushing forward to restrain her. Finnick stepped away, feeling slightly sick as he watched them pin Katniss to the table and tie her hands behind her back. Even if she was mad…this wasn't a way to treat a person.

Then she started banging her head on the table, forcing one of the attendants to tranquilize her with a syringe. But it didn't knock her out, just sapped her strength so that all she could do was emit this bone-chilling, high-pitched howl that ululated and cracked like the voice of a lost ghost. Finnick hugged his arms around himself, shivering, as the attendants carried her out and Haymitch was escorted to the medical bay by another gray-clad aide. Even when the metal doors shut behind them, he could still faintly hear Katniss wailing.

Heavensbee let out a long, shaky breath. His skin was the color of vanilla pudding. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Finnick," he said in a rough voice.

Finnick rubbed his hands up and down his arms, trying to bring some warmth back to his skin. Katniss's eerie keen had raised goosebumps on his skin. Was that what the damned sounded like?

"We'll get them back," said Heavensbee heavily. His hands lay limp on his lap, his eyes stared straight ahead, and he seemed utterly dejected. "Already, rescue plans are being made…but it won't be easy. Not easy at all."

"You better rescue Peeta," replied Finnick. "If you want Katniss sane."

Heavensbee flashed him a startled look. "Do you – do you really think – ?"

"I don't know," said Finnick. "But it…it seems likely."

"Just what we need," groaned Heavensbee, covering his face with his hands. Finnick slipped out of the room, going back down the hallway. At the door, he hesitated. All was silent now, which meant Katniss was either calm – or unconscious. He badly wanted to go in, offer sympathy – he was only too conscious, too empathetic of the pain she was feeling – but at the same time scared of what he might find.

Feeling apprehensive, he pushed the shining metal doors ajar and peeked through the crack. Beetee was still there, hooked up to his machines. And opposite him…Katniss. Lying flat on her back, hooked back to tubes and as still as before.

Finnick stole into the room, slipping to the bed beside her. Her eyes were closed, but she looked too tense to be asleep or unconscious.

"Katniss. Katniss, I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. The sympathy and pain that leaked into his words were unfeigned. "I wanted to go back for him and Johanna, but I couldn't move."

So that wasn't exactly the case. Did it matter? It all came out to the same thing, anyway…

Katniss didn't respond. Finnick tried again. "It's better for him than Johanna. They'll figure out he doesn't know anything pretty fast. And they won't kill him if they think they can use him against you." Cold comfort, he knew, but what else could he say?

"Like bait?" said Katniss. Her eyes were open now, but she was staring upwards, fists tight, face set in rigid lines. "Like how they'll use Annie for bait, Finnick?"

She didn't know, would never know, how much pain there was in that one statement. It hit Finnick in the chest like a hammer blow. His heart spasmed and he bent over, clutching it…Ah, God…Annie…

The painful, racking sobs were back. He knew Katniss could hear him, but didn't care. She probably didn't care, either…didn't give a damn about him or Annie…

"I wish she was dead," Finnick burst out in despair and pain. "I wish they were all dead, and we were, too. It would be best."

Would it? Would it really? For a moment, Finnick experienced a longing so powerful for death it was nearly irresistible. To not have to feel pain, to not have to suffer, to simply lie there and drink oblivion for the rest of eternity…what better fate could there be? In his head, he heard the words of a poet, a few fragments of his work that had escaped from the long-ago times before the Hunger Games…To die, to sleep – no more.

Finnick took a deep, shuddering breath. Katniss's eyes were closed again. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Finnick rose and left the room. No more. One way or another, he would get himself and Annie out of this never-ending nightmare.

No more.

They were one, maybe two days away from District Thirteen. For security reasons, they'd had to circumnavigate nearly all of Panem. Finnick didn't mind. He'd seen some incredible scenery out of the hovercraft windows. And it was nice to get a few days to relax and recover before they officially joined the rebel movement.

Well, relax in theory.

Though he didn't have to do anything more strenuous than be polite to Haymitch, Finnick was still stressed. Because although he wasn't in danger, there were plenty of other people to worry about. Annie, of course. Not until she was safely in his arms would he ever stop worrying about her. And Riley. Finnick knew his father would be one of the first to grab a gun and fight – not out of bloodlust but what he felt would be his duty. The chances of him getting killed were far too high for Finnick's liking. Then there were all his friends in District Four, who were caught in the same mess. And others, too – Peeta and Johanna, enduring God-knows-what in the Capitol's torture chambers. Connor and Dalia, who for all he knew could be prisoners too. Beetee, whose recovery was worryingly slow. And Katniss, who seemed to be drifting in some hazy, self-induced coma.

Yes, there were a great deal of people for Finnick to worry about.

His favorite room on the hovercraft was probably the observation deck. It wasn't so much a deck as a circular room with a low, sloping roof, stuck on back of the ship proper. Three of its curved walls were entirely windows. The fourth had padded seats.

Finnick was stretched out on one of these seats, staring up at the ceiling. The metal tile was dotted with hundreds of little holes. As Finnick lay there, he'd started counting them a dozen times, only to drift off in a sort of half-sleep. Then he'd jerked awake, started counting after a few minutes, and fallen asleep again…

Finnick was awake when the metal door slid open. He didn't bother to sit up, expecting probably Haymitch or Heavensbee, and he didn't feel like talking to either at the moment.

"Finnick?" The quiet voice with the distinctive District Four lilt was neither Haymitch's nor Heavensbee's. It was Connor.

"Connor!" Finnick jumped up, blood draining from his face in surprise. "How are you? How's Dalia? Do you know what's going on? Have you been to Four? How'd – "

"Easy, easy," said Connor, catching Finnick's arms to steady him, eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Don't go falling over, now."

Finnick regained his balance, laughing a little. "I'm all right," he said. Connor's eyes were searching his face, as if he didn't believe him. "No, seriously, I am. I mean, I'm about crazy with worry about Annie and everyone, but physically - "

Connor's face paled, and the momentary happiness and relief that had flared in his eyes died. "Finnick…" he said slowly.

It was Finnick's turn to grow pale. "What?" he asked numbly. "Connor, what's happened?"

Connor took a deep breath. His eyes – deep cerulean – met Finnick's gravely. "I have bad news, Finnick," he said slowly. "Well…bad news and worse news."

Finnick swallowed, his throat dry. His heart was pounding, his palms slick with sweat. Scared…yes, he was scared. "Tell me the bad news," he said, managing to keep his voice steady.

"Finnick…"

"Tell me, Connor!"

His mentor hesitated for a moment more, eyebrows pulled up worriedly. Then he sighed in defeat and said, "Last night, the Capitol took Annie prisoner."

No.

Oh, no...

Finnick felt icy-cold all over. His hands, feet, and face numb, he became aware of a roaring in his ears and a blackness over his eyes…

"Finnick!" Connor caught him as he staggered. Finnick was barely aware of his supporting arm around his shoulders as he guided Finnick back to the seats. "Finnick, are you all right?"

"M'okay," mumbled Finnick, slumping over so his head was resting on his knees. Slowly, he took deep breaths, waiting for the faintness to recede. The trembling, however, did not…

As he sat back up, he became aware that Connor was watching him worriedly. "How did it happen?" asked Finnick hoarsely. He was sure his face was white - unless it was gray.

Connor's face settled into grave lines. "They just…came. I was back in Four, with Dalia and the kids…I saw them, a whole squad, march up to the house. It was dark, you could hardly see anything, but we knew they'd got her because you could hear her screaming all the way to the airship…"

He swallowed hard. Finnick closed his eyes, leaning back against the seat and clenching his fists. Dear God, no…His entire soul rebelled against the idea of Annie being their captive, of their rough, gloved hands grasping her, bruising her translucent skin, indifferent to her screams for help and cries for pity…

"No," he choked. Opening his burning eyes, he turned to Connor. "No. They can't – we can't let them. We've got to get her back!"

"They're trying already," said Connor. "There's already the beginnings of a rescue effort for Peeta and Johanna – they'll get her, too."

"They have to," breathed Finnick. "They must…Oh God, she won't last two weeks in their hands!" he burst out desperately.

Connor's hand closed comfortingly on his shoulder, hard and rough. Finnick tilted his head back, willing the bitter tears to disappear from his eyes. "Tell me the worse news," he said hoarsely.

Connor's only response was a slight intake of breath. Tilting his head, Finnick opened his eyes to look at him. "Connor," he said in a low voice. "I need to know. After all – " and he laughed harshly " – not much can be worse than what you just told me…"

"I don't know," whispered Connor. "There's only so much a man can take…"

Finnick's jaw set grimly. "Then we'll see how much I can," he said. "What is it?"

Connor took a deep breath. "You know Annie had a guard," he said in a low voice. "Your father was on it…Well, the Peacekeepers came, but they weren't very peaceful, and…" He took a deep breath. "Your father is dead."

Riley.

Dad.

Daddy.

Dada…

A horrible, burning pain was twisting inside of Finnick. It reached out tendrils, snaring his arms, his legs, his head, until he was all bent over, constricted by agony, his arms wrapped around himself, hands clutching his sides, face contorted with hot tears leaking from his screwed-up eyes…

"Finnick?" Connor made to grasp his shoulder again, but at his touch Finnick leapt away with a wild cry and dashed for the windows, hardly knowing what he intended…

"Finnick!" Alarmed, Connor jumped after him, grabbing his arm. Finnick's knees buckled and he fell to the ground, tearing sobs forcing their way out of his lungs. It hurt…it hurt…he dug his nails into his arms until the skin tore, preferring the physical pain to the deeper hurt inside him…

Connor was right. There was only so much a man could take. And was this – father dead, beloved abducted and tortured, friends in danger of either fate – not enough to do it? There was nowhere, no stronghold, no safe place for his mind to go. Everything hurt. Everything was wrong, mutilated, torn into horrible little shreds and pieces...

And then it all fell apart.