Disclaimer: Quite a bit more swearing in this one. But it's warranted - at least, I think it is. Also a fairly uncomfortable scene about 2/3 of the way in. Just letting everyone know.

Gradually, Finnick became aware that he was no longer asleep, but floating in that dreamy state between consciousness and oblivion. It was extremely comfortable. He was content to simply lie there, his eyes closed, breathing slowly, with a gentle touch tracing the features of his face…

Finnick opened his eyes and found himself looking into a sea of turquoise, surrounded by white shell and brown silk. He blinked, and Annie's face came into focus. She smiled sweetly, fingers brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Morning, sleepy," she said.

Finnick smiled back. "Morning," he said. He felt rested, more whole and at peace than he had in what seemed like forever, and he was in little doubt why…He lifted his hand and cupped Annie's chin in it, resting his thumb against her lower lip. Annie kissed the tip of his thumb, and Finnick let out a deep sigh that seemed to come from his toes and carry all his tension out with it.

Annie smiled, showing her teeth. "What was that for?"

Finnick shook his head against the pillow. "You don't know how much I've missed you," he whispered.

Annie's expression was clouded briefly by sadness. Then she moved her head the last couple of inches and pressed her lips to Finnick's.

She tasted like sugar, and rain-washed petals, and over a month of loneliness and heartache. Her fingers twined in Finnick's hair and he pulled her closer, lips parted, and breathed in the sweet smell of her skin that he thought he'd lost forever.

The hallway outside of Dr. Aurelius' examination room was cold and unfriendly, tiled and walled in stark white, the fluorescent lights of the ceiling casting everything in bluish-white. Finnick leaned against the wall with his arms folded, fingers drumming nervously on his biceps, one foot propped up behind him and his heart pounding in his chest….

The door opened and Finnick jerked away from the wall so quickly he staggered. The blonde nurse's lips twitched. "You can come in, Soldier Odair," she said, and Finnick nearly tripped over his feet in his effort to enter quickly.

Annie wasn't on the cushioned examination couch-thingy; she wasn't in the room at all. Finnick turned to Dr. Aurelius. "Where's Annie?"

Dr. Aurelius started pulling off his latex gloves. "Getting dressed," he said, smiling slightly. "Don't worry, you'll have her back." He stepped on the little pedal at the foot of the trash can, opening the lid, and dropped the gloves in.

Finnick swallowed and, for lack of a more convenient seat, sat down on the examination couch, drumming his heels on the stainless steel supports. "Well?" he said.

Dr. Aurelius turned from the notes he was scribbling. "She has no permanent injuries, you'll be pleased to hear," he said. "I don't think I need to go into details about what was done to her, but she has suffered more from malnutrition and exhaustion more than anything else." His blue eyes met Finnick's steadily through his glasses. "And she was not raped."

"Thank you," breathed Finnick, closing his eyes. Dr. Aurelius smiled understandingly before returning to his report.

"As far as her mental and emotional state goes, I think you can assess that better than I can. But there seems to be little physical evidence of trauma – at least, as little as can be expected. I don't think you'll find her much worse than she was when you left her."

"But why?" asked Finnick, a frown appearing between his eyes. "It's not that I'm not grateful – believe me, I couldn't be more relieved – but I don't understand. I thought it would destroy her…"

"Maybe she's not as fragile as you think she is," said Dr. Aurelius quietly. Finnick looked at him sharply, but the older man did not look sarcastic or critical. "Finnick, there is a surprising amount of resiliency in even the most damaged human being. I know you hit rock bottom this month. But maybe Annie's already been there, and she's on the path to recovery."

Finnick laughed ruefully. "So, now I might be the mad one and she's okay?"

Dr. Aurelius shrugged, one side of his mouth lifted. "I wouldn't call either of you 'mad,'" he said. "And if by 'okay,' you mean untouched as you were before any of this happened, I don't think that's a possibility. But with each other's help, the two of you should be able to lead perfectly normal, healthy lives."

"Maybe," said Finnick darkly. "You're forgetting one thing."

Surprise flitted across Dr. Aurelius' face. "What's that?"

Finnick eyed him, one eyebrow arched. "Surely our little rebellion hasn't slipped your mind?"

The doctor shrugged again, turning slightly away. "I'm afraid to say it hasn't," he said. Then his eyes flashed up to Finnick's, steely and hard. "Though I daresay both of us wish it would?"

Finnick nodded, meeting his gaze. Suddenly he realized what it must be like for the doctor, any doctor, having to spend his life patching up wounded bodies and broken souls…

"Doctor," he said hesitantly, "why did you leave the Capitol?"

Dr. Aurelius smiled ruefully. "Remember when Katniss attributed her detection of the forcefield to the work of Capitol surgeons?" Finnick bobbed his head, not willing to push his memory too far.

"I was the doctor that fixed her ear."

Evans returned late, late a couple of nights later.

Finnick was sitting in Annie's hospital room, watching her sleep. He had soon discovered that unless he was there to hold her hand and tell her stories, she would not drop off but instead lie restlessly, tossing and turning, until at last she would fall into an uneasy slumber from which she would wake fevered and disoriented. It was one of the new facets of her madness – or "psychological distress," as Dr. Aurelius liked to term it – that Finnick was getting used to. Annie would have moments sometimes where her eyes would focus on something else entirely and only the touch of Finnick's hand or the sound of his voice could call her back to reality.

The worst of these moments had been triggered by a shouting match between two doctors. Annie had clamped her hands over her ears and almost completely shut down. It had taken Finnick nearly half an hour to coax her out of her nightmare state. By that time, his heart had been a bleeding mess.

But he bore it, for her sake. And anytime these new habits worried or disturbed him, he reminded himself not only of what she had been through, but what he had suffered as well, his nightmare-ridden and amnesia-plagued first weeks in District Thirteen. We'll be okay, Finnick reminded himself constantly. Everything will turn out all right.

He wasn't thinking that now, though, as he sat on the stool by Annie's bed with one foot propped sideways on his knee. His chronic nightmares had been replaced by insomnia, and so Finnick was spending his nights usually in rapturous contemplation of Annie. He had a pencil and notebook in his hand – he was supposed to be brainstorming new propo ideas for Plutarch – but after about fifteen minutes he had stopped even pretending to try and instead simply sat there, absorbing Annie's presence.

So attuned was he to her soft breathing that he barely heard the light tap at the door. Moving as silently as possible, Finnick got to his feet, put down his pencil and notepad, and ghosted to the door. Opening it, he found – Evans.

"Evans!" he whispered joyfully. There was a bruise on her cheek and a bandage on her arm, but she smiled back at him, shadows pooling in her dimples.

"How are you, Finnick?" she whispered.

Finnick smiled. "Fine. More than fine."

"You've got your Annie back, then?" There was undisguised warmth in Evan's voice.

Finnick nodded, automatically glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was still asleep.

"No more nightmares, then?"

Finnick shrugged. "I'm not falling apart anymore, at least," he whispered.

Evans's pursed and her eyebrows raised speculatively. "How's your memory?"

"Good," replied Finnick.

"Where are we?"

"District Thirteen."

"Who runs it?"

"That woman. Pres – President Coin."

"Who am I?"

"How the bloody hell should I know?"

Evans stared at him before she realized he was joking and smiled broadly. Finnick grinned as well, dodging her playful slap to the arm. "Still got your rope, Finnick?"

"Yeah." Beetee had brought it up from Special Weaponry the other day. "But I don't need it much anymore."

Evans looked at him, and maybe it was the dim lighting, but he couldn't get a bead on her expression at all. But before he could ask, Annie brushed up to his side, hand slipping into his, eyes large and questioning.

"Sorry, mermaid," said Finnick quietly. "Were we talking too loud?"

Annie shook her head. "I couldn't hear your breathing," she said simply. Her gaze traveled to Evans, half-timid, half-wary.

Finnick wound his fingers through hers. "Annie, this is my nurse, Evans," he said, lowering his head slightly towards Annie. "Evans, this is my Annie."

Evans smiled, holding out her hand. "I am so pleased to finally meet you, Annie," she said softly.

Annie stared at her outstretched hand, hesitating. Then with great deliberateness she held out her free hand and gently touched her fingers to Evans. "Pleased to meet you," she whispered. Then she pulled her hand back and hid her face in Finnick's arm.

Evans' smile was understanding and sympathetic. "Good night, Finnick," she said quietly. Finnick nodded, his eyes meeting hers. "Sleep well, Annie."

Her gaze lingered on the pair of them for a second more, and then she turned and padded silently down the hallway. Finnick pulled back into the room with Annie, shutting the door as quietly as possible.

Annie was still attached to his arm. "Annie, darling, don't you want to go back to sleep?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I'm not tired." She lifted her face, eyes gleaming, lips parted.

"Sweetheart, you need your rest – "

"I don't want to sleep," she repeated, firmly, but her voice shook. "Not if you're going to stay up, too."

Finnick made to sit her down on the bed, but she resisted, and he stared at her, bewildered. "Annie…"

"Finnick, I talked to Dr. Aurelius, and I know you were ill, and I want you to get better, too!" The words came out in a rush and her voice shook with tears.

"Oh, mermaid…" Finnick hugged her, pulling her close against his chest and rubbing her back until she relaxed into him. "All right, I'll go to sleep too."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Annie broke their embrace, pushing him towards the bed that was barely wide enough for two people. Meekly, he got into bed, pulling the sheets over his legs and patting the empty space next to him. With her lips pursed in what Finnick had long labeled as the stubborn-Annie expression, Annie sat next to him, folding her legs.

"You have to lie down to sleep," Finnick pointed out.

"I know." Annie looked at him obstinately. "But I want to see you go to sleep first."

Finnick laid his head on the pillow, eyes closed, and tried to fake the even breathing of deep sleep. Annie's voice sounded above his head, quiet and amused. "Are you asleep yet?"

"Yes."

He heard her quiet giggle – she never laughed at full volume – and then felt the caress of her hair and touch of her skin as she lay down next to him with her head against his shoulder and her hand on his chest. "Are you asleep now?"

Finnick was already beginning to drop off, but he smiled. "Yes."

His eyes were closed, but he knew Annie was smiling too. As she snuggled closer to him, he let sleep envelop him like a warm cloud.

And so life changed.

Annie was moved out of the hospital and given a compartment adjacent to Finnick's. He would have preferred they share one, but suspected that it had been a fight to let Coin get them neighboring compartments at all. He compromised by moving his bed right next to the dividing wall, and then having Annie move hers to the corresponding position. The walls were too thick to allow them to talk to each other, but at night Finnick slept pressed against the partition, knowing Annie was doing the same. If she had one of her nightmares – or he his – the other could usually hear it and come to offer comfort.

Annie's little sphere began to grow, to include the cafeteria, the soundstage. And from the shelter of Finnick's arm, she began meeting people. Evans, of course. Beetee, whom she seemed to like, and Fulvia, whom she didn't. She was introduced to Plutarch, too. Someone must have given him a brief lesson on dealing with Annie, or else his limited store of natural tact had grown, because he had the sense to introduce himself not as the former Head Gamemaker but as the "Head of Propo." Nonetheless, he wasn't nearly as warm with Annie as he was with Finnick – who was, quite honestly, okay with that.

They met people from District Twelve, too. Finnick never saw Katniss, whom he assumed was preoccupied with Peeta, but they talked briefly with Gale before he left on a mission to District Two. A blonde girl of about ten took the initiative in introducing herself to Annie as "Primrose Everdeen," and her mother as well. There was another blonde, closer to Katniss' age, Delly, who sometimes with Evans kept an eye on Annie when Finnick wasn't around – which was, unfortunately, a good deal of the time.

Because the minute he had been declared mentally stable, the protection of his medical bracelet had been revoked and his schedule had been subject to many changes, the greatest of which was the fact that most of his day was now occupied by military training. Though he grudged the time spent away from Annie, Finnick accepted the new routine without complaint, viewing it as payment for her rescue. And though training was brutal and his officers merciless, it was good to return to strenuous physical activity.

"Hey, gang," said Gale wearily, setting his dinner tray down on the table next to Finnick.
"Gale!" Finnick stood and grasped his hand. "Back from Two all right then?"

Nodding, Gale sat down. "Yeah," he said. "I'm worn out more than anything else." The cafeteria was almost empty; at their table it was only the three of them. Gale looked around Finnick to Annie. "Hey, Miss Cresta."

Annie glanced up at Finnick before responding. "Hello," she said shyly, looking more at her fork than at Gale.

Finnick chuckled and wrapped an arm around her. "So did you guys get into that Nub – Net – whatever it is?"

"Nut," said Gale. "Well, we didn't get in, but we flushed out everyone else. Blew up most of their major tunnels, caused a major landslide – "

He broke off at Finnick's warning look. Annie was staring at Gale, wide-eyed. "Were people hurt?" she whispered.

Gale glanced at Finnick, who gave a tiny shake of his head. "No," said Gale robustly. "No, there were only a few handfuls of people inside anyway, and they were so deep inside all the explosions could do was scare them."

"Good," breathed Annie. Then she looked uncertainly at Gale again. "Is Katniss all right?" she asked, glancing at Finnick to make sure she had the name right.

Gale shrugged, looking careworn. "I think so. I hope so. Her spleen's ruptured."

"What?" gasped Finnick, plastic fork clattering to the tray. "How?"

"Enemy sniper," said Gale grimly. "Someone shot her from the crowd. Thank God she was wearing that body armor, otherwise she would have been dead, but as it is the bullet just broke a couple of ribs and – "

Finnick tried to cut him off in time, but it was too late. With a little gasp, Annie had covered her ears, cowering as from invisible assailants. Finnick shot an angry grimace at Gale before wrapping his arm protectively around Annie, using his other hand to gently pry her fingers away. "Annie, darling…"

"Oh, crap – Annie, I'm sorry," said Gale, stretching a hand around Finnick towards her. "I didn't mean…"

Finnick kissed the top of her head, her temple. "Come on, Annie," he said softly. "Listen to me, huh? I'm here. You're all right."

Slowly, Annie came back to her surroundings, but she was shaking like an injured rabbit and would not look at Gale. "I think we'd better get back to our compartments," said Finnick, rising and pulling Annie with him.

"Yeah." Gale stood too. He looked again to Annie. "I'm really sorry, I had no idea that – "

"It's okay," said Annie, quietly and emotionlessly. When she looked up, it was at Finnick. "Finnick, can I have a glass of water?"

"Of course," said Finnick immediately. "I'll get it – "

"It's okay, I'll get it myself."

"Want me to go with you?"

"No, I want to try getting it alone…"

Annie walked back towards the long counter at the end of the room. Gale turned to Finnick, apologetic. "Sh-t, man, I'm really sorry…"

"Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure? I mean, after everything…"

"We'll be okay," said Finnick, half to himself.

"Really?" Gale shot him an odd glance that was half-relieved, half-envious. "I wish I could say the same about Katniss and me."

Finnick turned to look at him. "Are – are the two of you a couple? I mean, I thought – her and Peeta – "

"Oh yes, the darling baker boy," said Gale bitterly. "You know, if it wasn't for the Hunger Games, I'd have Katniss like that? But you throw two people together in a life-or-death situation, and they're gonna bond."

"Or turn against each other," suggested Finnick mildly. "With this hijacking thing…Katniss might turn to you for comfort."

"The last thing I want to do is comfort Katniss about Peeta," said Gale, even more acerbically, arms folded.

Finnick didn't have a good response to that. He watched Annie over at the other end of the room pause to talk to Valena Everdeen.

Gale glanced at Annie as well before asking Finnick in an undertone, "Look, I was wondering…have you told Annie? About all your 'lovers' in the Capitol."

Finnick stared at him, revolted. "Good God, no! Why on earth would I?"

Gale shrugged. "I don't know – honesty in a relationship, and all that…"

"That's something Annie never needs to know," said Finnick flatly. "It would break her heart. Possibly forever." He looked at Gale sharply. "Why? What dark secrets are you keeping from Katniss?"

Gale eyed him oddly. "None," he said darkly. "Yet."

Annie looked down at the schedule printed on her arm. "I'm supposed to go to Command at 13:00," she said, confused.

"What?" Finnick, his arm held away from his body to prevent the drying ink from smudging, came to her side. "Let me see."

Sure enough, there it was: 13:00 - Command. Finnick looked at his own schedule and saw the same order neatly slotted in between 12:00 – Lunch and 13:30 – Physical Training.

"I wonder what it is," said Annie quietly, frowning at the purple marks. Finnick put his arm around her shoulders and gave them a little shake.

"We'll find out when it happens, huh, mermaid? C'mon, let's get breakfast – are you hungry?"

Annie shrugged. "A little," she said, matching his pace as they walked to the elevator. "You?"

"Yeah, but not for porridge or toast or whatever's on the menu today," said Finnick. "I never thought the day would come when I would miss eating fish, but now…"

"I know," said Annie. "I miss home so much…do you think they're all right there?"

" 'Course they are," said Finnick. They stopped in front of an elevator and he pressed the button to open the doors. "Four was one of the first districts to be secured. Everything's peaceful at home."

"I miss our houses," said Annie. "They were so pretty when the sunlight hit them…and my ceramics workshop. Finnick, do you think the president would give me some clay?"

Finnick highly doubted it, but he wouldn't say so. "Maybe if you ask her nicely," he said, kissing the top of Annie's head.

"Maybe," said Annie doubtfully. The gray doors slid open and they stepped into the elevator, Finnick pushing the button to take them down to the cafeteria. "But I never get the chance. I never see her."

As it turned out, Annie had the chance at 13:00 – Command after all.

Finnick froze as the doors opened and he saw the woman standing at the head of the table, flanked by her usual contingent of gray-clad aids and security guards with the faces and IQ's of rocks. Plutarch was there, too, seated but looking down at the table.

Annie drew closer to Finnick and he pressed her hand before stepping into the room. "Um…you wanted to see us?" he said, voice slightly higher than usual.

"Yes," said the woman, voice clipped as ever. "Sit down."

Finnick sat at the opposite end of the gleaming gray table, Annie slipping into a chair by his side, her hand still firmly grasped in his. Plutarch shot Finnick an oddly desperate, almost hungry glance, but before Finnick could think on it the woman was speaking.

"I'm sure you two are aware of the fact that the Capitol is standing on shaky foundations right now."

Uh…no, they weren't. Seeing as no one bothered to tell them anything…

"Yeah, we knew," said Finnick casually, leaning back in his seat. "What does that have to do with us?"

"Well, now is the ideal time for us to garner the support of the Capitol citizens themselves," continued the woman. "And as the Hunger Games – " Annie let a soft involuntarily cry and Finnick squeezed her hand comfortingly " – and our propos have already shown, the best way to garner attention is through media."

"So…" Finnick was confused. "What do you need? More 'We Remember' propos?" The thought of putting himself through that again made Finnick feel sick with apprehension, but he ignored it.

"No," said the woman, drawing the word out in a way at odds with her normally clipped tones. "Plutarch thought of a much more effective subject."

Automatically, everyone looked to him. Plutarch shifted in his seat, a strange look on his face. He wasn't nervous, but something…else. Something Finnick couldn't figure out.

Eyebrows raised, Plutarch looked down at the papers he was shuffling. "Well," he said at last, "considering…recent events, the mutual consensus was that what was needed was a propo designed to raise everyone's moral. And there are few things happier than a wedding."

A sort of joyful explosion went off inside of Finnick. "You mean – ?" he gasped. Annie's hand tightened painfully around his.

The woman smiled slightly for the first time in Finnick's memory. "Provided you two are willing, of course."

Finnick turned to Annie. He wasn't sure how the fireworks exploding on his inside were being shown on his face, but her eyes were shining like evening stars.

"What do you say, mermaid?" he asked, voice shaking with joy. "Wanna get married?"

Forget eyes – her whole face was glowing. "Only if you do," she whispered, face lit by a brilliant smile.

"Well, I guess that's settled, then," said Finnick, turning back to Plutarch and the woman, grinning so big it hurt his cheeks. "How – how soon?"

Plutarch shrugged, an odd little smile on his face. "Weeks, at the most."

Okay, so he was acting strange. Did Finnick care? Hell no! He was getting married!

"If that's everything, then I need to get going," said the woman briskly. "Good day, Heavensbee, Miss Cresta, Soldier Odair."

She marched out, accompanied by her retinue. Finnick stood with Annie and was about to leave too when Plutarch said, "Finnick, could you stay for a minute?"

Annie took both his hands, pouting. Finnick laughed and kissed her on the lips. "Go on ahead, mermaid," he said. "I'll see you after training."

"All right." Annie rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him, arms winding around his neck. Finnick had nearly forgotten where he was when she pulled away, lightly touched him on the tip of his nose with her finger, and walked out.

Finnick looked after her, slightly mesmerized by the sway of her hips. As Plutarch cleared his throat, Finnick turned around, exuberance bubbling out of him.

"What is it?" he said – happily, because at the moment he couldn't be anything else. "Make it quick, I've got to be at training in ten minutes."

"Yes, yes, I'm aware of that," said Plutarch, walking towards him. "The thing is…"

"Was this your idea?" said Finnick. When Plutarch nodded, he grabbed his hand and shook it. "Hell, man, you have no idea how happy you've made me…"

Plutarch smiled and clasped Finnick's hand in both of his. "I'm glad, then. It's just – and maybe this is a bad time to ask – but could you do me a favor?"

"Sure," said Finnick, too happy to be cautious. "Anything."

Plutarch met his eyes at him, hesitating. Then he lifted one hand to touch Finnick's face.

"Woah!" Finnick shied away, staring at Plutarch, all senses instantly on alert. "What the hell?"

"Please?" asked Plutarch, his eyes pleading the way no grown man's ever should. "I don't ask much – " And he actually reached out and seized Finnick's shoulders, bring his bulk way, way too close to Finnick.

"Get off!" Finnick twisted under his hands – Plutarch's moist, red mouth was inches away from his, his breath horribly warm on his face – with a cry, Finnick kneed Plutarch in the gut and broke away from his grasp, bolting for the door.

"Finnick!" Plutarch's voice was wheezy with pain and desperation, but Finnick sprinted down the hall and pummeled the button for the elevator furiously, hardly aware of what he was doing. Every thought, every instinct in his body was stilled except for a powerful impulse to get the f—k out of there.

"Finnick!" Plutarch called again, pleading, as the elevator doors opened. Finnick threw himself inside and pushed a number at random. As the doors closed and the elevator hummed away, he leaned over and braced his himself with his hands on his knees, heart pounding, breath coming shorter as he absorbed what had just happened.

Every cell in his body was rebelling against what Plutarch had offered. What was this, anyway? He'd had to do stuff like that in the Capitol, sure, and hated every f—king minute of it, but that was why he'd come to District Thirteen so he didn't have to put up with that goddamned sh-t…

Wiping his mouth on his hand, Finnick straightened, his breathing and pulse slowly returning to a normal rate. If he was honest with himself…it really wasn't any worse than some of what he'd put up with in the Capi – over there. It was just…well, considering recent events…and nobody would want it sprung on them like that, even if they swung that way and Plutarch wasn't about fifty years older than them…

Finnick shook his arms and head, trying to dispel the unclean feeling. With a shuddering jerk, the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Finnick realized he had sent the elevator to a random residential level that no one he knew lived on.

With a sigh, he pressed the button that would take him to the surface and 13:30 – Physical Training.

It was raining. Again.

Finnick sighed as he stepped onto the muddy track, the light rain already soaking his hair and turning his white wifebeater gray and gray pants charcoal black. The mud oozed around his beat-up sneakers, and he wished for the hundredth time that whoever was rationing clothing in District Thirteen would let him have a new pair.

He set off jogging at an easy pace along the track, the figures of the other men and boys blurred by rain. That "conversation" with Plutarch was still clinging to his thoughts like a dirty skin…Finnick cast his mind about for something else to distract him. Something happy.

Happy.

Holy frick, he was getting married!

A grin spread irresistibly across Finnick's face as he remembered why he and Annie had been called down there in the first place. Married…Jesus, it seemed so unbelievable. That he and Annie would actually belong to each other, and never have to be separated again…

Finnick's feet kept automatically pounding the track as his thoughts took a different turn. Annie…For the first time – or at least, what seemed like the first time in a long while – Finnick let himself think of her not just as someone to kiss gently and hold tenderly, but as his wife, the woman who would share his bed because he actually wanted her to, her long, silky hair spread tangled over silken sheets, the scent and warmth of her soft skin filling his sense in a long, smooth curve from shoulder to hip…

"Finnick? Finnick?"

"Huh – wha?" Finnick, shaking his head to bring himself back to reality, found that he'd slowed to a walk and that Gale was matching his pace beside him, eyebrows pulled together.

"You all right?" Gale asked. "You look a little out of it."

"Yeah – yeah, I'm fine," said Finnick, clearing his throat.

"Move it, boys!" barked Sergeant Well from under a crude metal shelter, her voice cracking. "More running, less walking and talking!"

Finnick and Gale picked up their pace, feet going squish-squoosh, squish-sqoosh in rhythm. "Hey, I've got good news," said Finnick.

"Yeah?" said Gale. "I could use some."

Despite the rain, and the mud, and his cheap shoes, Finnick was happy. "There's going to be a wedding soon," he said.

Gale's reaction was very odd. He skidded to a halt, staring at Finnick in horror. "Not Katniss and Peeta?" he breathed.

"What?" Finnick stopped too, taken aback. "No! Why would they get married?"

"I don't know, some mad idea of Plutarch's…" Gale's voice trailed off and they started running again. "Jeez, man, you nearly gave me a heart attack…"

"Sorry," said Finnick shortly, annoyed his announcement hadn't gotten the response he was expecting. "Anyway…"

"Anyway, right, a wedding," said Gale. "So who's getting married?"

Finnick stared at him in disbelief. Gale met his gaze blankly for a second before comprehension dawned on his face. "You and Annie? That's great! Congratulations, Finnick!"

"Thanks," said Finnick, grinning again. "I still can't believe it."

"I bet," said Gale. They rounded the curve of the track and began squelching down the stretch again, wet hair plastered to their heads. "But…whose idea was it?"

Finnick frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Who started it? Did you propose to Annie, or was this something Plutarch came up with?"

"Yeah, it was Plutarch's idea," said Finnick, ignoring the squirm of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the man. "Does it matter?"

Gale shrugged. "Not especially," he said. "But if the choice were left up to you…"

Finnick's even strides pounded into the mud, his breath flowing steadily in and out of his lungs as he considered. "I would have waited until the war was over," he said slowly. "Waited until everything was settled down. I would want it to be as happy as possible…"

"But wouldn't it make more sense to get married at the first chance you got?" persisted Gale. "Make sure of her?"

"I'm as sure of Annie as I've ever been of anything," said Finnick. He looked at Gale, who was staring ahead with a frown on his face. "Maybe it's hard for you to understand that, being in love with Katniss."

"Damn straight," muttered Gale. "God, it's like playing with fire…you think you've got her, and then all that happens is you get burned…"

Finnick tried to keep his expression from looking too sympathetic, in case it wounded Gale's pried. "How old are you?" he asked.

Gale glanced at him. "Nineteen."

"Really?" Finnick looked at the black-haired young man in surprise. "I thought you were at least my age."

Gale snorted. "And I could have sworn you were mine." He looked at Finnick wryly. "Guess suffering doesn't always bring maturity, huh?"

"Thank God it doesn't," said Finnick. "If it did, I'd have white hair and walk with a cane."

They passed the metal lean-to that Sergeant Well was standing under. "Let's get going, gentleman!" she snapped. "Unless you feel like cleaning the showers afterwards!"

Grumbling, Finnick and Gale sped up slightly. Gale muttered something under his breath about what else Sergeant Well could clean, and Finnick sniggered.

"What's up?" Rhodey, a fourteen-year-old kid from District Twelve, jogged up beside them, apparently looking to pick up tips on obscenity.

"Nothing, Virgin Ears," taunted Gale. "Go back to the nursery, why don't you?"

"Aw, come on!" When the only thing his protesting achieved was Finnick trying to trip him, he flipped them off and ran down the track.

Finnick shook his head, grinning. "Ah, the young and innocent," he said, stretching his sarcasm muscles. "Remember being like that?"

Gale laughed shortly. "The day Rory starts acting like that I'll beat the tar out of him."

"Rory?"

"My little brother."

Wouldja look at that? Gale had a family. "Is he here in Thirteen?"

"Yeah," said Gale, breath shortening as they continued their second lap. "Him, my mom, my brother Vick, sister Posy – "

"Where's your father?" asked Finnick.

"Dead."

"Oh. Sorry."

"You don't have to be. It happened a long, long time ago." Gale glanced at Finnick. "You have family?"

Finnick let out a long breath, calves burning as he continued to jog through the mud. "Not anymore."

"I'm sorry," said Gale. "Was it recently, or…"

"My father, yes," said Finnick, chest tight. "My mother…that was a while ago. I was four."

Gale sucked in a breath sympathetically. "How did it happen?"

"Accident on a trawler," said Finnick. "It was a storm, she got knocked on the head with a spar and fell in the ocean, and they couldn't get her out in time…"

"That's awful," breathed Gale. "Jesus, that stinks…"

"The worst part was Riley's reaction when they broke the news," said Finnick grimly.

"Yeah…my father died in a mining explosion," said Gale. "Worst f—king day of my life – "

"Pick up the pace!" yelled Sergeant Well. "Or do I have to run behind you with a bullwhip?"

"Finnick?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, mermaid." 18:00 – Reflection, and he was sitting in Annie's room, yawning his fool head off. "Sorry, I'm just so tired…"

"You don't get enough sleep," said Annie, sitting on his lap and brushing his newly-trimmed hair out of his eyes. "Are you still having nightmares?"

Finnick shook his head. "Not many," he said. Looking in her eyes, he brushed the soft skin of her cheek with his hand. "Are you?"

Annie shrugged. "Less each night," she said, pulling herself close to him. Picking up one of his hands, she wound her own hand through it, looking down at their intertwined fingers. "Finnick…I wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah?" Finnick looked at her curiously – she was blushing carnation pink. "What is it?"

"Well, we're getting married…" she said shyly, still not meeting his eyes. "And I was wondering…if…well…if the wedding night would be…you know…a real…wedding night." She flushed a deeper shade of rose.

"Ohh." Finnick, trying not to laugh so as not to hurt her feelings, ran his hand up and down her waist. "So that's what you're getting at?"

"Yes," said Annie, hiding her face in his chest.

Smiling, Finnick tilted his head in an effort to see meet her eyes. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," she whispered again, glowing scarlet.

Finnick tucked his arm around her shoulders, a happy little shiver in his stomach. "Well, then, there you go," he said. "A real wedding night it is."