Trigger Warning: Violence

Good to know that Four's Victors don't give a damn about whether he lives or dies in there. Finnick can't quite hide his dismay when he learns that Annie Cresta has been assigned to mentor him. It's okay – Annie's probably not sane enough to recognize his disappointment.

The woman won more out of luck than anything, and she's been Four's resident loon ever since. What business does she have mentoring?

"Do you want to win?" Her eyes have finally focused – first time all evening, he was starting to worry she couldn't even do that – but her words still sound off.

Finnick nods. "Of course. I didn't volunteer to come home in a body bag." But there are six Careers this year, all of whom would probably say the same thing, and only one is walking out alive. And that's assuming one of the outer districts doesn't pull off one of their rare wins. He doesn't let himself think about that.

"Why?" Her voice is flat.

"The money, the house, the Year of Plenty. Seems to me that there are plenty of reasons to win." He shouldn't have to defend this choice, there's nothing to defend. Still, he's starting to get nervous about all of this.

Her eyes have glazed over again, and he's sure that she's lost again. Finnick's given up and has started to help himself to the fresh strawberries that the staff left out for them when she breaks the silence. "You're very handsome."

"Thank you." He hopes that's her attempt at a come-on. She's cute, all dark hair and tan, lean limbs, and not much older than him, either. Finnick's not sure how many more chances he's going to get.

"It will get you lots of sponsors."

Business, then, not pleasure. Pity. "I sure hope so."

"You want to be ugly."

He asks her why, but he doubts she hears him. Though he stays with her, too afraid to be alone now, Finnick has only the occasional train whistle to keep him company.

This is it. She's done everything she can for him. Annie hates that it wasn't much at all, but there's no time for that now. She clenches her hands into fists during the countdown.

Ten. Finnick's on his podium, not ready to run yet, just scanning the Arena. Good. He'll want to know what he's getting into.

Four. He moves into position. The camera can't resist him, and it settles on his face. Annie can see the muscle in his jaw twitching, but he doesn't look terrified the way some of the other children they've showed have. The Capitol already loves him; he'll be fine.

Three. Her fingernails have broken the skin of her palms, but Annie can't tear her eyes away from the screen. Finnick needs her right now.

Two. They've panned away from Finnick to some poor twelve-year-old that is absolutely shaking on his podium. It's probably the last time the boy's parents will see their child alive.

One. Back to Finnick, the one everyone is betting on. Hopefully, that won't backfire on him.

When the gong goes off, the Arena erupts into action. She forces herself to keep watching as they sprint towards the Cornucopia, but when Finnick tosses a spear and she again sees that skinny little boy, this time looking almost confused by the weapon that's lodged in his chest, she's fourteen again, and she's back there, and there's blood everywhere. It's all she can do not to scream. Instead, she claps her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes shut. When she hears the cannons go off, Annie prays that none of them are Finnick, but she does not dare open her eyes to look.

A/N: The prompt for this was 'AU where Annie is Finnick's mentor'. Thanks for reading!