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It was their phrase, the words he would say to her whenever he had to go to the Capitol to fulfill the debt he owed them. Annie knew the price he had paid for her – the price he had paid so that she would never to endure what he did. To most everyone, she was the poor, mad, girl from his district that he fallen for in a tragic romance that was as star-crossed as it was good for the telling. But to Finnick, she was his love.
“I’ll see you later,” he said when he left.
Annie didn’t ask him for a promise because those words were a vow in and of themselves. “Come back soon,” she whispered back, hoping that this time it would be true.
She went down to the beach and walked out into the ocean, far enough out that she couldn’t touch the ground anymore. It didn’t remind her of her arena – that had been freshwater – but it helped remind her she was alive. Out here, she felt as free as she could in a district that owned her, body and soul.
She dived, deep enough that she could feel the pressure in her ears. Finnick would see her later, but one day Annie hoped there would be something for him to see besides this.
He always left her reluctantly, looking over his shoulder as if to remind himself what he was leaving behind. Annie wished he wouldn’t have to go. She hated the Capitol with everything inside of her; hated them for forcing her and Finnick into this horrible parody of monogamy. She would never blame Finnick, but some days she felt like she’d never left the Arena and all the anger and battle-rage she had felt then was shoved deep down inside waiting to be vented at those who deserved it.
“I’ll see you later,” he called from the end of the walk.
Annie waved him off from the porch of their house and ran upstairs to scream.
It was a privilege, she thought later, that everyone expected her to act erratic and unhinged. Sometimes she was, and there were days where she was back in her arena, water filling her mouth as her competitors dropped beneath the waves one by one. But sometimes there was only anger.
“Give him back,” she screamed at the mirror she suspected had a bug behind it. “He belongs to me.” Later, she would think about how Finnick didn’t belong to anyone but himself. Now, there was only rage.
When District 4 joined the rebellion, Annie knew it wouldn’t be easy. Still, in District 13, far underground where she couldn’t see or hear the sea, she was finally married to Finnick. It was happy – the type of joy she never thought she would get again. She danced with him, with the other Victors, with everyone that joined the celebration. There were dances from District 4, 7, 12, and more. Annie spun, and laughed, and was almost able to let go of the darkness in the corners of her mind.
They held each other that night, whispering all the promises they had never gotten the chance to keep before into each other’s ears. Finnick promised protection, solidarity, never leaving her again. Annie promised stability, peace, solidarity.
Both of them revelled in the joy of never having to worry again. Finnick wouldn’t be sold, Annie wouldn’t be used. They were no one’s puppets anymore.
“We’ll see the ocean,” Finnick promised again. “I’ll see you again.”
Annie nodded. The version of her that she had left behind in District 4, the one that liked to swim until her lungs nearly burst, who would collect driftwood and abandoned shells to make chaotic fragmented art, the one who screamed and cried and loved like a typhoon, that was who Finnick would see again.
And then – I’ll see you later – Finnick was sent on another mission.
Annie never saw her husband again.
Katniss came to District 4 after it was all over. “I’m sorry,” she said over and over. She said to everyone she met: the children, Mags’ family, Finnick’s siblings, and Annie.
“I’m sorry, too,” Annie said, holding her son on her lap.
Katniss stared out at the ocean, not seeing anything. “I wish I could have saved him,” she confessed. “Brought him back to you.”
Annie sighed. I’ll see you later. Finnick had whispered them into her ear just before that last mission, so sure he would see her and their child. “I wonder if he can see us,” she murmured. “I wonder if he would like the world we’ve made.”
Katniss shook her head to protest, but Annie just lifted her son higher onto her lap. “Look,” she said. “He has Finnick’s eyes.”
I’ll see you later.