Chapter 22: 75th Annual Hunger Games

District 13 is quiet – so quiet, it's often difficult to tell night from day. The only way Finnick can differentiate between the two is because night is when he must separate from Annie. Still, at what must be midnight or later, he tiptoes through the empty hallways dully illuminated by artificial lighting and finds his way to compartment 426C. It's silly, he thinks, to sneak around in such a way – even as children, he and Annie met on the beach at night in the open air. To meet clandestinely, and on the eve of their wedding, no less, seems unnecessary.

Nonetheless, he finds himself rapping on Annie's door, hissing, "Annie? It's me. It's Finnick."

The door opens a sliver and Annie peers through the slat, wide-eyed and alarmed.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," he says as he enters and closes the door behind him. Enveloped in darkness, he fumbles for the switch on the wall and turns on the light.

Annie squints in the light. "They'll find you."

He shakes his head, dismissing the notion. "Trust me. I'm not their biggest security threat."

Annie grabs a hold of her dark, tangled mane and throws it over one shoulder, where she twists the ends with her finger. "I'm glad to see you," she says, "but in District 4, it's bad luck to visit the bride the night before the wedding."

With a sad but patient smile, he reminds her, "We're not in District 4."

"I know," she replies, lowering her gaze to the floor.

He takes her hands in his and sits with her on the bed. "I know it's late," he begins, "but I can't bear the thought of you…" His words trail, and he sighs. Annie waits expectantly, a slight crease in her brow. "Secrets," he blurts out, for it's all he can manage to put into words. "My whole life, there have been secrets. Dark secrets. And now that our time has finally come; now that we… I don't belong to Snow anymore, I thought… well, I'm yours, Annie. I won't keep anything from you again. He can't hurt us like he did before."

Annie's breathing is shallow, and she asks in trepidation, "Did you keep secrets from me?"

With a frown, he nods.

"Why?"

He licks his lips, squeezing her hands. "Because I love you," he says simply.

Regarding him warily, she pulls back her hands. "I don't understand."

"There were things that I knew about Snow," he confesses. "Things the women had told me. Things I wanted to keep safe to one day use against him. You were already in too dangerous a position – they knew I'd do anything to keep you and would use you against me. I would have wanted you to tell them everything you knew just so they'd keep their hands off you. That's why I kept it inside. But there were other things, too," he adds. "Things I kept from you because I wanted to protect you. Because you'd lived through so much pain and I couldn't bear to be the one to bring you more."

Annie folds her hands in her lap, mulling over his words. Finnick waits with baited breath, his eyes pleading.

Staring at her knees, concealed by a thin papery nightgown, she asks, "Will you ever tell me?"

"Yes," he says hastily, placing a hand tentatively on her knee. "If you want to know, I'll tell you. Maybe I was wrong to keep it from you. I don't know anymore." His index finger hooks under her chin, gently urging her to raise her head. When their eyes meet, he swears, "I'm yours. In every way, now. Whatever you want of me, I'll give it."

Annie leans in to peck his mouth, her lips clenched in a tight smile. The air around them feels hot – not the delicious kind of warmth the sun brings in District 4, but a muggy, thick heat that keeps Finnick's breathing shallow.

"The secrets," she whispers, as if the word itself is what it implies, "will they hurt me?"

"I don't know," Finnick confesses with a slight shake of his head. "I think so."

She bites her lip as she contemplates, rubbing her thumb over the top of his hand. "Are they heavy to carry?"

He gulps. "Yes."

She exhales with a quiet strength, blowing strands of her hair away from her face. "Then tell me. We'll carry them together."

And so, with a steely intake of breath, he does. He tells her of the morning his father died and what he'd done to prompt the murder. The state in which he found his mother – an Avox in the Capitol – for trying to defend him. The way he felt, all those nights with all those women, and how it only got worse the more he grew to love her. And her father, Wren Cresta, whom he met more than once but who must have died, for if he had lived, he would not have let them keep Annie in that cell.

When he says his last words, silent tears stream down Annie's cheeks – she's given up wiping them away long ago. She leans against him and buries her head into his shoulder, and he slips an arm around her and watches a particle of dust circulate in the vent for a very long time.

She has questions, of course. About everything, but mostly about her father. If he spoke of her – yes, Finnick promises, you're all we spoke of – and if he was okay – he looked tired, Annie, but he stood with pride. And later, as he takes her in his arms and they fall back on the bed, entwined, he assures her that it's not Wren's fault. That he was called upon and couldn't refuse without his family's safety at stake. That every day of his life, he dreamed of the ocean.

"We've lost so many," Annie tells him, dried tears under her shimmering eyes. "Will I know anyone who stands behind us tomorrow?"

"Peeta," Finnick replies. After a moment's thought, he adds, "If he's well enough to attend. Johanna, maybe… I hope."

The sting of their last encounter is sharp, but he still clings to the hope that she'll be there at the ceremony. Though she let go of all she held dear to live an uninterrupted life, there's no doubt she knows how desperately Finnick has tried to hold his loved ones dear. She must know how much it means for him to finally break free and forever bond himself to the one he loves.

Annie sniffles, placing a hand flat on his chest. "I don't think so, Finn. She'll stay away."

"How do you know?"

She burrows further into him, sighing deeply. "I have a secret, too," she murmurs, "though it's not mine."

With a ghost of a frown, he asks, "What is it?"

"They called on her the most. Did the most horrible things to her," Annie begins with a shudder. "I don't know how she could withstand all that torture or what gave her the fight to carry on. Where they kept me, it wasn't so far away… I saw her go in and out, almost every day at first and then less as time went on and she grew weaker. But I always heard her scream."

His arms tighten around Annie and he shuts his eyes, hating the images that find him. It could have been him, it could have been him…

"Sometimes she screamed for her mother," Annie continues, her voice growing fainter. "Sometimes for another girl – maybe a sister, or a close friend. She begged for them to help her, almost like a prayer. But sometimes – on the days they dropped her back off in her cell still conscious – she would lie whichever way they'd thrown her and stare at the walls. She wouldn't be screaming anymore, but her voice would be shaky and incontrollable. And those were the times she would call for you."

It's difficult to imagine Johanna with a mother and sister. It's tough to imagine her smiling, joking, laughing, and enjoying another's company. But nothing compares to the agonizing thought of her whispering his name in the dark.

"It would surprise me to see her tomorrow," Annie remarks. Finnick hugs her tightly, clenching his teeth to suppress a flood of emotion. With her long, tangled hair smothering his senses, Annie continues thoughtfully, "She would be stronger than I ever thought possible…"

Johanna is not there. She is not present as Annie and Finnick exchange their vows, nor as a net is draped over them as is custom in District 4, nor as a beautifully decorated cake is unveiled at the reception. Finnick looks for her, each time with a disappointed shake of his head, whenever he can bear to tear his eyes from Annie.

Annie – his wife – is a vision. Her chestnut hair has been combed out and lies smoothly and silkily over her shoulders. She's put on a bit of weight since her arrival in District 13, so she does not look so gaunt or emaciated in a vibrant green dress borrowed from Katniss – one that nearly matches the sea green of her twinkling eyes. They've promised each other to put everything aside today – the secrets, the loved ones, the pain. Today is theirs, and as Finnick catches Annie's eyes and she flashes him a wide smile, he knows that she has not strayed from her promise.

It's perhaps a bigger celebration than Coin anticipated, although much less than what Heavensbee fought for. Still, as they join each other on the dance floor in their second-hand clothing in front of the citizens of District 13 and more cameras than Finnick can count, he decides that it doesn't matter. This day, so longingly anticipated, is everything he had not dared to dream of.

Peeta, too, is unable to make an appearance, but Annie is so touched by the cake that she asks to drop by his hospital room before they retire to their new compartment, assigned and approved by Coin.

Hands linked, the newlyweds enter his hospital room after pleading with a pliable nurse, who mutters to herself that everyone these days thinks they can just do what they please and just because you're the Girl on Fire, doesn't mean you can disturb a hospital wing so late a night. Finnick wants to ask her what she means, but from the sounds of it, Katniss has paid Peeta a visit, too.

It's late, but Peeta is not sleeping. His eyes are soft, but wary, regarding them hazily as if clouded by weariness.

"Peeta," Annie says warmly, detaching her hand from Finnick's in order to give the boy a proper greeting. Finnick has heard of the way he attacked Katniss when he first saw her, so he tenses and waits closely by as Annie leans down to kiss his cheek. But his worrying is for naught – Peeta simply offers Annie a smile in return.

"The cake was wonderful," she tells him. "We can't thank you enough."

He shrugs, amused. "It's what I do. Congratulations, by the way. I'm sorry I couldn't make it."

Finnick and Annie shake their heads, brushing it off. And when Annie has kissed his forehead and bid him goodnight, Finnick assures her he'll meet her outside in just one more minute.

When it's just him and the boy, he wets his lips and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He can't find the words to say, so he blurts out, "I was just told to save the girl. Katniss. Sometimes I think I know why, but other times… I can't figure out why the rebels took me in the end instead of you."

Peeta doesn't seem surprised by his confession, and reacts by calmly brushing blond hair off of his forehead.

"Johanna said you were like this," he says with a dead chuckle. "Going around apologizing to everyone for things out of your control."

"If you hadn't been taken by the Capitol, you would be in there right now," Finnick says, pointing in the general direction of the Collective, "dancing with Katniss. You know that, right?"

Peeta shakes his head.

Finnick sighs, muttering under his breath for what he's about to say. "And I wish that they hadn't done this to you," he continues, his voice cracking, "because you don't deserve it. Katniss doesn't deserve it. But on the other hand… I'm so glad you were there. So grateful." Peeta frowns, but Finnick goes on before his emotion overwhelms him. "Annie told me the things you said to her. To keep her strong. She told me that no matter what they did to you, you were always a comfort to her. And if you weren't there, she doesn't know if she could have…" He stops, unable to say the last words. With a shaky breath, he finishes, "I swore an oath before I went into the Arena. To protect the Girl on Fire. To get her out alive. I stuck by that oath and still do, to this day. But I want you to know that I'm making my own promise to you. You'll get out alive, Peeta, as long as I have a say in it. I owe you that much."

He nods in conclusion, stepping away from the bed.

Peeta stares at him, his brows furrowed. "Alive…" he trails off uncertainly, "doesn't mean much anymore."

At the door, Finnick looks at the ground to gather himself and then back at Peeta. He assures him with a confidence he didn't know he possessed, "It will."

Outside in the corridor, his hand finds Annie's and they walk together to the compartment they now share.

"How do you feel?" she asks him as they walk.

"Like a victor," he admits. Later, he adds, "The happiest I've ever been, Annie."

She nudges him in the side as they ground to a halt in front of their compartment door. She jokes, "It's Mrs. Odair to you."

A broad, boyish grin takes over his face as his chest puffs involuntarily. He sweeps Annie in his arms to carry her into their compartment, remarking, "Those are the sweetest words I've ever heard."

Annie giggles, locking her arms around his neck as he kicks the door shut behind them. Chuckling to himself, he drops her on the bed – not quite a double, but larger than a twin – and falls lightly on top, pressing kisses to her neck and collarbone. She reaches toward the nightstand to turn on the small lamp, providing some illumination to their new home.

Finnick pauses, glancing at his surroundings. "Not much," he observes. A bed, a nightstand, a small dresser, and some hooks. All bland. White walls, grey carpet.

"We'll make do," Annie assures him, cupping his cheek. With a calm smile, she adds, "I don't need a lot of space or fancy things. You're my favourite accessory."

To this, he laughs. "Well said," he murmurs, nuzzling her ear. "You can do what you want with me."

"Good," she says, abruptly pushing him off and flipping them over. He's locked underneath her legs, straddling his waist, and can't help raising his eyebrows in surprise. Annie laughs delightedly, leaning down to softly kiss his lips. "I feel like I've waited a long time for that to be said."

Finnick gulps, clutching the skirt of her dress in his hands. "A very long time," he agrees, gazing in wonder at the incomprehensible beauty above him. "You've been most patient, my wife."

After a prolonged, heated kiss that has Finnick spinning, Annie declares, "Enough waiting."

They have waited forever and suffered even longer, and as they consummate their marriage with tenderness, passion, and an unspoken desperation, Finnick feels the broken shards of his heart gathering in one place, tight in his chest, threatening to burst. And that is something belonging uniquely to him – and to Annie.

Never again will he touch or be touched by another. Never again will he lie with another or have her tear-stained secrets whispered into his ears. As long as he lives, there will never be another but Annie, with her lovely dark hair and heart that beats in rhythm with his.

The days following their wedding are shrouded in quiet bliss. Even the white walls and strict schedules of District 13 cannot damper their moods. To Annie and Finnick, everything is, for once, as it should be.

Almost.

She's still nervous around others, and any mention of the traumas they endured in the Capitol or the Arena is met with the blocking of her ears or the shutting of her eyes. She drops out of conversations entirely, only to pop back in with a bout of nervous laughter or fervent nodding of her head.

From their pitying glances and wary stares, Finnick gathers that they all believe her to be mad. All of them – Haymitch, Beetee, Coin, Plutarch, the general citizenry of District 13. Even Katniss. He doesn't try to change their minds – he's past that. Instead, he calls her back when he can, keeps a protective and familiar arm around her, and yearns for the moments when it's just the two of them. The quiet moments where both are sane. Or insane. Finnick doesn't know anymore, but he knows they're there together, and that's enough.

And in those peaceful, safe moments, they lay side-by-side, kiss, make love and, tangled up in each other, chat in the afterglow. They're careful about reminiscing and instead speak of their future. They remind each other of calm ocean waves and salt in the air. They discuss what to grow in a garden – Annie is more practical in her vegetable suggestions, but Finnick argues for a garden bed of flowers – roses, daisies, anything with colour. They speak of their little house in District 4 and how, someday, it may need to be expanded to accommodate their brood. Finnick sees children – three or four, at least – but they are genderless, faceless, simply there but unimaginable in their characteristics. He knows that Annie happily dreams of a boy with bronze hair and skin kissed by the sun. On those days, he places a hand flat on her stomach and tries to imagine a swell. A raised bump created by the two of them. Life amongst all this death. Even if he can't picture a face or a day when it may all come true, he gives Annie a gleaming grin that wipes away years of sorrow, kisses her belly and promises himself it's worth fighting for.

And there is still fight left in him. One glance at Annie and he knows it. She toys with his golden bangle at night, asks him what it is for.

"Freedom," he murmurs against her hair.

There is no freedom – not yet. Beetee is right: they're still in the Arena, all of them, and until Snow is dead, they sleep with one eye open.

He will give Annie the ocean again. He will give her open skies and colour. Snow will not take from him the last person he holds dear. Snow will never win again.

So he finds Beetee. Speaks with him of technique, of strategy, of war. And he makes it known that he will fight.

Finnick picks up his golden trident and, with fierce determination, begins to train.

It surprises everyone, but no one more than Finnick, when Katniss and Johanna become roommates.

They are all in training together, although the girls are far behind him – after months of mental distress that took a physical toll on him, he's weaker than he's ever been, but his strength seems to multiply along with his resolve. Finnick is two classes above Katniss and Johanna, one whose frame is small and who has sustained injuries, the other who remains weak from Capitol torture, fights a morphling addiction and shies away from water. He trains separately from them, but often they spend time together at the end of the day, all three of them catching their breath. Soldiers from District 13 and elsewhere pass them by with cynical glances. Once so strong, these victors.

But they are strong, Finnick continues to tell himself. No one yearns for Snow's destruction more than Katniss, Johanna, and himself. Other soldiers may be savvier in technique or skill, but Finnick and the two girls are more determined. Their blood thirsts for justice. Vengeance for the ones they've loved and lost and security for the future they deserve.

Finnick is not sure what drew Katniss to Johanna or vice versa, but he's happy they have each other. Keeping up with Johanna and her snark is a good distraction for Katniss from thoughts of Peeta, and Katniss is a companion to Johanna, much in the way Finnick used to be. At times, on his own with Johanna, he finds himself tongue-tied. Johanna wears her usual mask of scorn and nonchalance, but still he can't bring himself to ask her the question in fear of hurting her. The question of her feelings for him and if they were—are—real.

"You need a good lay," Haymitch tells her one afternoon following a gruelling workout. The three young soldiers are splayed out across several chairs in the Special Defence Unit with Haymitch bringing them up to date on the mission into the Capitol.

Katniss blushes at the comment, and Finnick can't help but snort at Haymitch's crassness and ignorance. He shakes his head and chuckles into his hand.

With a scowl, Johanna grumbles, "I don't think so. 13 is desperate for babies – they don't have pregnancy shots here, and before I knew it, I'd be knocked up by a chump."

Finnick's blank expression is almost instantaneous as his teasing smile is wiped clean. While Haymitch argues against it, Finnick freezes as her words sink in.

"There are no pregnancy shots here?" he asks suddenly, struggling to keep his voice even. Everyone must know what he's thinking – he can see it in their raised brows – but he needs clarification.

"This hole is almost infertile," Johanna says with her usual derision. "If anything, they're hopping up our food with baby-making drugs."

He has the urge to bug out his eyes and run to Annie, but he forces himself to lean back in his seat. "Oh," is all he says, feigning indifference.

Haymitch isn't convinced. "Everything all right?"

Finnick nods, perhaps too eagerly.

"Good," Haymitch says, "because I was just getting to the last detail."

"Lay it on me," Johanna says with a sideways glance in Finnick's direction.

Haymitch sighs. "The mission to the Capitol launches next week."

Another gulp of cool, stale air fills Finnick's lungs as he zips up his jacket. Next to him, Katniss laces her boots while Boggs speaks in hushed tones to the film crew. All along, they've known what they were training for, but now that the mission is finally here, real, everyone moves in stunned silence.

Finnick, for one, has clarity. Across the Special Defence Unit, he assumes that Gale, with his fierce eyes and rugged stare, has the same – though perhaps a different sort of revelation. As for the others – Boggs, Cressida, the rest of the film crew – they might simply be there because no one else would take their place.

Katniss is one he can't quite figure out. Sometimes he sees anger and steadfastness in her hardened grey eyes, but other times, like when she gave her sister's cat a pat on the head and kissed Prim's forehead, he sees fear and foreboding.

"You sure you want to go?" Finnick asks her through his teeth, lowering his voice so that the others don't hear. If Haymitch, deep in discussion with Beetee by the control panels, caught a whiff of this conversation, he'd cross the room in a flash.

Her eyes flicker in his direction, surprised to hear from him, but she masks the expression moments later. "Yes," she replies, taking care to sound unafraid.

Finnick thinks of that little girl with the blond plaits – Katniss' sister – and the mother she's leaving behind. People who depend on her for their survival.

"You're young," he says gently, as if it's any justification.

Katniss adjusts her sleeves, countering, "So are you."

"I was, once. A long time ago," he says, a deeply entrenched sadness in his voice. Calmly, he adds, "I've been fighting longer than you know. It's all I know how to do."

She pauses, throwing her braid over her shoulder. "Why are you going? You have a wife now."

Finnick nods. "She's the reason. Until I have no one left to fight for, I'll fight. I'm not tired – not yet. Not until I see Snow's last laugh on his lips."

Katniss understands this much. She turns to him, saying quietly but clearly, "I'm going to be the one to kill him, you know."

He smiles sadly, gazing down at the brave girl in front of him. "I know," he says. "For so many years I dreamed it would be me. But I see now. We all do," he adds, gesturing to the others with a subtle nudge of his chin in their direction. "We know what this mission is about."

Katniss' brows narrow inward as she struggles to understand the meaning behind his words. "What?"

"To get you to Snow," Finnick says simply. "Alive. Nothing else matters."

Glancing around the unit, Finnick knows he is right. Nervous, uncertain or determined as hell, everyone knows this must be the end of Snow. Whatever else ends with it, must end.

Johanna waits outside of Special Defence, sulky and morose, having gotten permission to leave the hospital to see the mission on its way. After another relapse and physical difficulties in training, she's been cut from the mission and isn't happy about it.

"Someone needs to hold down the fort here in 13," Finnick offers to her, finding it easier to be brave with his Capitol voice and charm.

"Don't give me that shit-eating grin," Johanna grumbles, raising her hand as if to slap it off his face. "I deserve to go as much as anyone. You know I do."

He nods, his megawatt smile fading. "Maybe it's for the best," he offers in his normal voice. "One less person for me to look after. With Peeta hopping on board, I've got my hands full."

It's true – the task ahead seems daunting at best. The Capitol is a fully-fledged Hunger Games Arena, alive with pods and spies and death around every corner. Getting Katniss to Snow and getting Peeta out alive as he promised is almost an impossibility.

Johanna frowns, punching him lightly in the arm. "When have you ever had to look after me?"

"Never," he says quite seriously. "And I wouldn't want to have to start. You might bite my head off in the process."

"You'd deserve it," Johanna assures him, muttering under her breath, "you arrogant son-of-a-bitch."

He chuckles. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask her to look after Annie for him, but he can't bring himself to ask it of her. He can't be that cruel.

Instead, he bows his head, plasters another grin on his face, and says, "Always a pleasure, madam."

"Hey," she calls out as he walks away. He looks wistfully over his shoulder. "I'll see you, Odair. And when I do, I'll wipe the floor with you."

He gives her another smile, feeling genuine affection for the griping woman. If only her words could be true.

Outdoors, it is crisp and fresh, and the biting air catches in Finnick's throat. Still, it's a welcome reprieve from the underground.

Crew members bustle about the hovercraft making last-minute adjustments. Nearby, Haymitch is delivering instructions in low tones to Katniss and Gale, and Peeta stands with Pollux, the Avox, breathing warmth into his hands and glancing at Katniss every so often. In just a few minutes, all of them – with the exception of Haymitch – will be aboard the hoverplane, taking off for what they intend to be the last Capitol mission. To bring Snow to justice.

It's not really justice, Finnick thinks to himself, though he'd never say it aloud to his fellow soldiers. If it were up to him, Snow would live a long, long life of servitude, have his body sold to greedy bidders with warped tastes, be strapped to a bed to have men in white probe at his flesh and stick needles into his veins, have his family and friends ripped away from him one-by-one with violent, torturous deaths, and be sent into a contraption called the Arena, where he would be made to kill or be killed by his peers or by gamemakers from above.

But Finnick's first instincts have always been for retribution. Violence. It's the feral, animalistic part of him; the attitude encouraged by the very Capitol he now moves to destroy.

"Please don't go," says a voice behind him, quiet but bold.

He turns, accepting Annie into his arms and resting his cheek against her hair. "I have to," he murmurs, rubbing her back to keep her warm in the chilly air. "It's our fight."

She nods into his shoulder. Annie knows what he means without explanation – that Mags and Leander and Wren and Roscoe and all the fallen tributes deserve valiant deaths. That they who sacrificed themselves did so not in surrender, but in hopes for a brighter future. One where districts thrive and children do not fear early death awaiting them in glass balls.

"It's our future," he adds, echoing his own thoughts. With a hand in Annie's hair, he pulls away to glance down at her stomach. Her eyes follow his gaze, calm and patient.

She knows of his promises to himself. Of his will to get Katniss and Peeta out alive above all else. As his eyes search hers, Finnick senses she must know, too – it's unspoken between them that he will not return despite his best efforts.

Her sea green eyes glisten with tears, but they do not spill over and she does not make a sound. He blinks away his own tears and brushes her cheek with his thumb.

"Will you go back to 4?" he asks her, soft as a breath.

Her bottom lip quivers. "I'm afraid," she admits. "There might be nothing left."

"It's your home," he says. "Our home."

She says no more, and he pulls her toward him again and rests his forehead against hers. With his eyes closed, he can pretend that the whistling wind is a cool breeze, and the shuffle of blades of grass is rustling fronds. The tide rolls in on the beach and Annie stands beside him, as she always has.

"Do you ever wonder," he speaks after a long silence, "where we'd be, if I'd never been reaped?"

Tears drip from her closed eyelids down her cheeks as she nods. "All the time," she says, thick with sadness and loss.

"I do, too," he confesses, tightening his grip on her. He can't suppress his emotion much longer, so he continues huskily, "It's hard to make out sometimes. Who would still be here, alive. It seems so inviting now, but I never was sure I'd make a good fisherman."

"You were the best at everything you did," Annie remarks, choking back a sob.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Who would be there, where I'd live, what I'd do… I have a hard time putting all the details into place. But one thing I do know, Annie, is that it would still be you and me. In any life, I'd be with you… or waiting to be with you."

Annie shakes her head, nearly smiling at the absurdity of his claim. "You can't know that."

"Yes, I can," he insists. "I see you in every vision with perfect clarity. You believe that, don't you?"

With a gasp, she nods vigorously. Their lips collide soon after in one last salty, desperate kiss.

He fights for freedom. For himself, for his wife, and for everyone who gave their lives for them. And in the name of freedom, he'll fight until his very last breath.

But it's odd, he thinks as he steps into the hoverplane and takes one last look over his shoulder. It's odd to know that if he dies, he dies not as a free man, but as a man who belongs wholly to someone else. For his heart rendered itself to another years ago. In body and soul, he is forever bound to her.

And he will never ask to be set free.

Every time I update these days, I do so with an apology for the wait. This time, I took a trip home up north for a few weeks and did not have internet access. The good news is that while I was there, I completed this story. I'll be editing the next bit over the next day or two and should have it to you by the end of the week. So that's good news, right?

One note that I did want to mention is that in Mockingjay, there is a scene with Johanna and Katniss at the wedding. In Knotted, I imagine that the same scene happened – however, in my mind, Johanna snuck in to see how the reception was going and did not make herself seen by all, least of all Finnick.

Thank you again for all of your patience and kind words. I'll see you soon to wrap this one up!