"And the female tribute is…" his voice always trails off right here to build the suspense, and I always hate it. "Mags Cohen!"
My hand is in the air before Adrian is finished. "I volunteer!" Not the most formal way of going about it – for that, I would have had to start the paperwork a week ago – but it had worked well enough for Katniss Everdeen last year. I don't wait for any kind of approval and instead hurry to the front of the stage before anyone can stop me. The crowd and cameras gets a quick wave and a tight smile before I give up on the happy face. They'll edit it out in the broadcast.
Adrian blinks a couple times before everything seems to click. "These Reapings are always full of surprises, aren't they? I love it!" He grabs me by my elbow and pulls me a little closer to him. From far away, the smile he gives me probably seems friendly, edging on flirtatious, but up close, his eyes are full of worry. He's wondering if I'm an idiot. It's a fair question, and one that I'm asking myself right now as well.
"Now for the men!" There's a tingle at the back of my neck, the kind you only get when someone is watching you from behind. I move my arms behind my back and wave as discretely as I can at Finnick. I pray to every power in the universe that it won't be him, that his certainty over these last few months that it'll be his name that's drawn is nothing more than paranoia. One of my hands is clasped tight around the opposite wrist, and though I tell myself to relax and try to summon up memories of the anti-anxiety strategies they taught me after the Games, but the nails begin to cut into my wrist all the same. It was stupid to wear the light green dress today. Any blood will show.
Mags told me once, after the Games when I heard almost nothing and understood even less, that we in Four had once worshipped a great and merciful God. We were fools then, and we haven't gotten any better. I hold out hope even after his name's been called that Adrian's made a mistake. But then the seconds stretch out, and I feel a hand against my own, and it's too large and too gentle to be anyone else's, but why would Finnick come up when it should be someone, anyone else?
They might as well have reaped a robotic Annie for all the emotion I show when we have to shake hands. President Snow must be proud.
But when the show is over and the Victors retreat into the Justice Building, the emotions swarm around me. There's the usual gnat of Anxiety buzzing in my ear, and its much larger friend Fear has chosen to join in on the fun. Fear is hot ashes coals being ground into my skin. Desperation is the tidal wave that will suck me under unless I fight it every inch of the way, and even then, I never have much of a chance. These are all familiar, but regret, the chain around my ankle, that one is new. And I can't blame anyone else. Regret does tend to work that way.
I don't really remember what happened last time – the entire lead-up to the Games are a bit of a blur – but I feel like the time to meet with family and friends was longer. My parents and sister come to say goodbye, separately, in order to maximize the amount of time we'll have together, but all too soon, it's over. I hope they understand how much I'll miss them.
The train is quiet for about the first half second. "What were you thinking?" Finnick hisses. I suppose I'm lucky I've been able to put the confrontation off this long.
Oh, look, Anger's shown up to play as well. I spin on my heel towards him. "As though you would have done anything different."
"I wouldn't have volunteered if I knew there was a chance you were going to get reaped too!"
"So you would have let her go into the Arena to die?"
He goes quiet at that, but it doesn't feel like winning. I close the space between us and hug him close. My next words are muffled by his chest. "I don't want to waste out time fighting."
Finnick leans in against me and kisses the top of my head. "At least tell me that you're going to try to get out."
"Just as much as you will." It's a loaded question, and I don't even feel bad about it. I can picture his face now, and I wish I couldn't. "Finn –"
"Please stop." He doesn't pull away.
"We know what we're doing. We've got as good a chance as anyone there." I lower my voice even further. "We have a chance to make a difference, Finn. And I don't want to speak for you, but I want to make it count."
I feel him nod. With any luck, the cameras won't pick up on it.
A/N: The prompt for this was "Finnick and Annie both entering the Quell but without Annie being so crazy." Thanks for reading through these past seventy chapters!