AN: I've had a request to turn Conflicted into a multi-chapter fic, so here is Chapter Two! I know it's been ages since it was originally posted, and I'm so sorry for the late update, but I've just been too busy recently and I write my prompts / requests in the order that I receive them, so this was quite far back in the queue. I hope you like it, and please leave a review! I love hearing feedback on how I can make my writing better.

Finnick carried on with his working week as normal, helping all his clients to deal with their bereavements, their divorces, and their stress. He continued to delete emails from Dr Thomson inviting him out ("If you don't fancy dinner, how about a musical?") and was careful to avoid making eye contact with her when he left his office.

No matter how much he tried to deny it to himself, he was desperate for next Wednesday to come around so that he could see Annie again. What happened during their last session had left a mental imprint on him. It wasn't something that he could just shake off or forget about. He thought about Annie on his way to work, on his way home from work – she even entered his dreams a couple of times. Finnick kept this to himself, of course – he knew that if anyone found out about what had happened, he'd be carted off to jail in the back of a police car. But even that wasn't enough to take his mind off the beautiful girl.

Eventually, Wednesday arrived, and Finnick sat in his office, preparing himself, as eleven o'clock drew nearer. He straightened his collar, sprayed some aftershave, and popped a mint into his mouth, even though he hadn't eaten anything since he brushed his teeth earlier that morning. He received the telephone call from Kate the receptionist to let him know that Annie was here. He fished out Annie's file from his cabinet, picked up a pen from his desk, and settled himself in one of the leather armchairs by the large windows like he had done last week. There was a knock at the door, and he called for Annie to come in.

"Hello, Annie," he smiled warmly.

"Hello, Dr Odair," Annie returned his smile.

This week, she was wearing tight blue jeans that flattered the curves of her hips, a white vest top patterned with little frills, and her red hair was straight, making it look even longer than it had before.

"I told you, call me Finnick," Finnick said in a friendly tone as Annie cautiously crossed the room.

"Okay... Finnick," Annie replied bashfully, taking a seat in the free leather armchair.

Finnick poised his pen ready to start taking notes. He started with the usual question that he asked all his clients.

"How have you been feeling since our last session?"

"Better," said Annie in a small voice, accompanied by a small smile.

"I'm very glad to hear that," said Finnick. "Better in what way?"

"I don't know, really. I'm smiling a lot more. And finding it easier to fall asleep."

Finnick beamed as he jotted down this information.

"That's great news about the sleeping. What about after you fall asleep? Any improvements with the nightmares?"

Annie looked down.

"No," she mumbled. "No, not with the nightmares."

Finnick's stomach fluttered. Seeing Annie in such a vulnerable state changed something inside him. It wasn't a disgusting or perverted feeling – he didn't want to abuse her vulnerability. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to be there for her when she woke up in the middle of the night screaming. He wanted to hold her against his chest as she sobbed and reassure her that it was just a dream and everything was okay. He wanted to be the one she counted on most.

"What about the flashbacks?"

"I have them two or three times a month. Right after the incident I used to have them almost every day. So I guess they're getting better."

But her voice wasn't exactly teeming with confidence. Finnick wrote as Annie went on.

"My boyfriend... well, ex-boyfriend now, he... he left me because of this. He was supportive at first. He drove me to therapy and helped me with all my self-help assignments. He gave me lots of affection. We were always cuddling, always talking... he promised me that he'd stand by me. That he'd make sure I got better. And I believed him. But it all started to get too much for him."

Annie paused and took a deep breath.

"He'd sleep in and be late for work because he'd been up half the night trying to calm me down after a nightmare. He'd have to cancel arrangements with his friends if I had a flashback right before he was due to meet them. It got so bad that he couldn't even leave me on my own anymore. There were times when I'd go silent for days and he wouldn't be able to get a word out of me. I could hear him speaking to me, begging me to talk to him, and I wanted to, I really wanted to, but I just couldn't. It was like my brain had just decided to shut my body down. I couldn't move, I couldn't function. In the end he'd get so frustrated that he'd end up hitting..."

Annie's speech came to an end. Finnick leaned forward, a concerned expression on his face.

"Hitting what, Annie?"

Annie's eyes darted around the room so she didn't have to look at Finnick. They were shiny with tears by this point. She began wringing her hands out, trying to think of something to say.

"Uh... the table... he'd end up hitting the table..." she mumbled to the building across the road.

"Annie. Look at me," Finnick's voice was low and serious.

Annie's gaze slowly turned towards Finnick. She was trembling and trying ever so hard to stop the tears from escaping her eyes.

"Did he hit you?"

Annie said nothing but burst into a hysterical fit of tears, which gave Finnick all the closure that he needed.

"Oh God..." he whispered to himself, placing his notes and pen down on the table in front of him.

He brought his hands up to his face. He could feel tears of his own stinging his eyes but he was determined to remain calm. He knew what he had to do. He had to report this to the authorities. It was protocol – everything said in a therapist's office remains confidential, apart from matters in which a person's health or safety is at risk.

"Annie..." Finnick started. "Annie, I'm very glad you trusted me enough to tell me this."

Annie looked at him with wide, fearful eyes.

"I'm going to have to inform the police about this, Annie," he said in a quiet, sympathetic voice.

"NO!" Annie screamed, bringing her legs up onto the chair and hugging her knees. She started gently swaying back and forth as she cried. "No, please don't!"

Seeing Annie so distressed caused a single tear to run down Finnick's cheek. He wiped it away.

"I'm sorry, Annie," he said. "But I have to. It's part of my job to make sure my patients are safe."

"I am safe!" Annie insisted, nodding furiously as a fresh load of sobs erupted from her. "He lives miles away, and he's never even contacted me since he left, not once! Please, Dr Odair – Finnick – please don't call the police!"

"Oh, Annie..."

Finnick slowly began to rise from his chair. He deliberated comforting Annie who was now crying so loudly that he was sure she could be heard from next door. The awful feeling of being torn returned to him – should he or shouldn't he? Was this right or wrong?

"Please, Dr Odair, I don't want the police getting involved! Please, I'll do anything, I swear! Anything you ask, I'll do it!"

That settled it. Finnick took a seat next to Annie since the chairs were big enough to comfortably fit two people. He gently tucked a few strands of Annie's hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek.

"Annie, listen to me," he spoke in a soft, reassuring way. Their tearful eyes met. "I don't want you to do anything for me. Trust me, I don't. I just want you to be safe."

Annie sniffed and her trembling slowed. Finnick closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"If you don't want me to call the police, then... I won't."

Annie's face lit up in delight.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!"

"But I'm going to give you my cell phone number. And if that... if your... ex-boyfriend ever comes looking for you, I want you to call me. Immediately."

Annie nodded. "I promise, I will."

Finnick hesitantly slipped his arm around Annie's shoulders. He was preparing himself for her to move away in disgust. But she didn't. Instead, she relaxed into his hold and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you, Dr Odair," she whispered.