He reached out hesitantly to stroke her soft, dark hair. "You did it, Annie, you came back," he murmured.
She did not stir, still unconscious due to the strong drugs the Capitol's medics had injected her with when she had lunged at them immediately after her Games. Finnick had not been on the hovercraft to collect her from the Arena, but he had seen the last hours of Annie's Games, so he did not doubt the doctors' stories of Annie attacking them when they first brought her aboard. The medics had told him that she had launched herself at them, screaming, clawing, and biting.
That had been fourteen hours ago. Since then, Finnick had remained at her bedside, both dreading and eagerly awaiting the time she would emerge from her drug-fueled unconsciousness. Every half hour, a nurse would come in to check that Annie's feeding tube was still in place and her vitals were steady, but they never spoke. For fourteen hours, Finnick had heard nothing but Annie's soft, steady breathing and his own voice.
The patterns on the monitors began to change as Annie's heart rate and breathing sped up. Finnick briefly considered calling the medics, but decided he wanted to speak to her alone with no interference from the doctors. They saw Annie only as a difficult, potentially insane patient, and Finnick needed to talk to the girl he had known before the Games.
She blinked and lifted her hand to her face, hoping that once she cleared the sleep from her eyes, this situation would make more sense. The sterile, white chamber she now occupied looked like no room she had ever seen in Four. The smell was chemical rather than salty like the ocean, and the mattress she lied on was softer than her one at home.
Annie finally noticed the other occupant of the room. "Finnick!" she shouted, struggling to sit upright. She opened her arms, and he rushed to embrace her. Annie clung to him tightly, glad for this reminder of home.
Suddenly, heat rushed to her chest. Finnick's warm, comforting arms around her became confining, and the walls seemed to expand, shrinking the room. He wouldn't do this to her, hold her still so she could not fight back when the Seven boy came to cut off her head. This wasn't Finnick, who would never let the mutts that called themselves doctors use their needles on her.
You're mad, Annie Cresta. The other woman's voice was enough to push her into action. She scratched along the man's back, hoping it would be enough to force him away. Not-Finnick let go of her and stepped away, but his body was still between her and the exit.
"Are you all right?" he asked with false concern. This mutt was a truly brilliant design. The Capitol scientists had perfectly replicated Finnick's bronze hair and green eyes. Even the little dimples that formed when he smiled were perfect. They hadn't managed to capture his mouth. This mutt's lips contorted as he looked at her, stretching too far across his face to show a set of long, sharp fangs. "Annie, are you okay?"
She screamed, swiping at not-Finnick's hideous mouth with her fingernails, raking across his face over and over. He did not stop her, instead standing perfectly still and allowing her to claw at his face a dozen times before someone yanked her away. Annie struggled against the doctor mutts as they wrestled her to the floor and stuck their needles into her.
From her position on the floor, she could see that not-Finnick still had not moved. She spotted several long, thin trails of red along his cheeks and lips, but it was his eyes that captivated her. In them, she found all the love and caring that Finnick held for her.
You're mad, Annie Cresta, her friend whispered again. Annie choked back a sob as realization dawned on her.
"Finnick, I'm sorry, so sorry …" her voice trailed off as she fell into the warm, welcoming unconsciousness again.
Finnick stood still as the doctors finished sedating Annie and lifted her back into bed, her words echoing in his mind.
"Mister Odair, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," said one of the doctors, an older man with blue skin and navy tattoos. "Your presence seems to upset the patient. Though we are still trying to evaluate the extent of her emotional trauma, I believe that something about you incited her latest frenzy, and she might be more accepting of our help if you are absent." He paused for a moment, obviously waiting for some sign of agreement from Finnick. When he received none, he continued, "we simply can't risk our team's wellbeing so that you can be near your mentee. You need to leave now." As he spoke, a nurse carefully transcribed his every word into an expensive-looking black notebook.
He nodded silently and allowed an assistant to show him to the door. Mags was sitting in the waiting room. "What happened to your face?" she asked as soon as he stepped into the room.
Finnick brought his hand up to his left cheek. He had entertained far too many violent clients to not immediately recognize the warm stickiness that he encountered. He stared at his palm for a long moment, trying to understand why Annie would do this to him.
Mags tugged on his sleeve, guiding him into the restroom. She ordered him to sit while she wet a towel and began to wipe away the blood. "Tell me what happened," she said gently.
"She woke up," he replied.
She stopped her ministrations to pat his uninjured cheek. "Boy, we both knew that no one comes out of the Arena the same person they went in."
He paused for a few seconds before he nodded.
"It might not seem like it now, but things will be all right," said Mags.
Finally, Finnick could not contain his emotions any longer. He cried for the first time since the death of his parents. Mags dropped her towel and gathered him up in her arms, comforting him until he ran out of tears.
Mags led him back to District Four's quarters in the training center, where Camille and Suki badgered them with questions about Annie's recovery. Normally, Finnick would have been upset that Annie's mental state was the talk of the Capitol, but after his encounter with her at the hospital, he couldn't bring himself to care. He answered their questions with terse, one-word answers before excusing himself. He felt somewhat guilty for leaving Mags to answer their uncomfortable questions alone as he readied himself for bed but did not go to help her.
Sleep evaded him that night. He lied for hours, lost in his thoughts of Annie. In some ways, the Capitol had destroyed her as much as his mother and father. At least Sarah and Connall Odair had been allowed to die, to escape the nightmare of life under Snow. Annie had been afforded no such luxury and was still suffering. He shifted, finally accepting the truth. Annie Cresta might have survived the Arena, but she was no longer the girl he had fallen in love with.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for the long wait. I've been pretty busy the last few weeks, but I think that now that things have calmed down a bit, I should be able to update more frequently. I am very grateful to meksters, marblesharp, bsmj, Nola, The Honey Crisp, and Odestalovebaby for reviewing. It's fantastic to know what readers are thinking of my story, and I would love it if you would take a minute to leave a review. Thanks again!
~finnicko-loves-anniec