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Water surrounds Annie, rushing in her ears and filling her mouth, waves crashing over her as she kicks to keep her head above them. She thinks she remembers something before this. There was an arena, made of sweeping plains and far-off mountains, all of it bloodstained and broken in her memory. There was someone with her, and then there wasn’t. And now, the water. It’s everywhere, covering up everything that came before, sweeping away the evidence of what has been done. Annie kicks out of instinct, her body moving independently, her thoughts too lost in the horrors she’s seen.
A particularly strong wave washes over her, then seems to turn and come back for her when its first brush doesn’t take her under. A twinge of annoyance comes over her, flaring when the wave comes a third time. As it passes over her head, she catches a scrap of music, a soft melody that stirs in her heart, familiar in a way she can’t place. The wave returns and she hears it again, a song that sounds like home, like freedom, like the wide open ocean and a sunlit beach where she can pass the day away. Far from this arena, far from the pain she’s been through–something simple, something soft, something to return to. The next time the wave comes, she lets herself sink, following the music down, feeling her heart swell the closer she gets to finding its source.
From the depths, a creature emerges, floating through the water like she’s made of it. The song gets louder as she comes into view, the melody achingly beautiful as she comes to a stop in front of Annie. Her skin is covered in scales, green and shimmering, and her eyes are white as she looks at Annie, tangled seaweed hair floating around her face. Barnacles cling to her and give the impression that she hasn’t seen the surface in a long, long time. The music stops as she opens her mouth to speak. “Are you afraid?” Her voice is thin and reedy, something about it making Annie want to get closer.
She shakes her head.
The creature smiles, revealing razor sharp teeth. “Good.” Her hand closes around Annie’s arm, her nails digging marks into Annie’s skin, and she watches as scales erupt from the point of contact, spreading their way up Annie’s arms and across her body. She feels the ache in her lungs disappear as water fills her mouth, no longer choking her. When she looks down at herself she sees nothing but silver scales, her legs disappearing into a split fin that beats against the water. She looks up at the creature and sees a flash of light in those white eyes, there and gone too quickly to understand. The creature releases her arm and Annie feels a sting where her hand was, watches pricks of blood mingle with the water from the marks left by her fingernails. The creature swims closer, her strangely beautiful face filling Annie’s vision, and leans in to whisper in her ear. “Take what is yours.”
The words stir something in Annie’s chest, her heart beating faster as the creature fades back into the depths. She moves her body, testing out her fin, and grins, feeling her teeth grow into sharp points that draw blood from her lips. When she closes her eyes, she can feel the entire expanse of water around her, can sense where it’s disturbed by someone still fighting to stay afloat. The melody sounds again, louder than ever, and Annie realizes it’s coming from her throat, reaching for her competitors, luring them into the depths.
She swims up to each of them, barely needing to try to pull them below the surface. Most come willingly, chasing the song until water fills their lungs and they realize their mistake too late. The sound is beautiful, haunting, echoing through the waterlogged arena and reaching every corner of it, inescapable. Annie moves through the water with ease, nearly undetected by the others, music pouring from her throat as she claims this sea for herself.
When her last competitor sinks below the surface, Annie feels the scales melt back into her skin, the rest of her appearance returning to the way it was before. She kicks her feet to get to the surface, gasping in air with desperate lungs as soon as her head breaks above the waves. The water supports her as she waits for whatever comes next, a distant song echoing in her ears.
--
Every second she is on land is agony, air burning in her lungs and knives in her feet, her head nearly splitting open with the effort it takes to keep herself from falling apart. Voices surround her, hands reach for her skin, and she hopes if she closes her eyes it will all go away. They put her on stage and she wishes she could drown out the sound of the screaming crowd, could lift her voice and drag them all into the depths where they can’t hurt her.
They show footage of how she got out. The camera doesn’t catch the creature, her transformation. When she’s pulled from the water she looks the same as ever, still in the same waterlogged clothes she went into the water wearing, no scales or sharp teeth in sight. They chalk it up to athleticism, a lifetime surrounded by water, a pure stroke of luck. When she gets off stage she focuses through the pain enough to see Mags’s knowing look, Leif beside her looking shocked and a little frightened. Whatever the Capitol has refused to see, has tried to explain away, she knows it won’t fool them.
Leif keeps his distance on the train ride home.
Annie barely notices. Her head is spinning, the sound of water roaring in her ears, her skin dry and cracked in the sterile air of the train. She hums to herself, barely realizing she’s doing it, then covers her hands with her ears so her song is all she hears. Leif hastily exits the room. Mags sits beside her, completely still but for her toe tapping along to the rhythm of Annie’s song.
She closes her eyes and the creature swims into focus, her hair billowing around her, the feel of her fingertips sharp against Annie’s skin. Well? Annie challenges. I did what you told me. Now what? The creature shakes her head and bares her teeth, giving no answer.
The train jolts to a stop and Annie’s eyes fly open, desperately seeking something familiar. They land on Mags, holding out her hand to help her to her feet, Leif behind her holding his breath. She stops humming and takes the hand Mags offers, wincing at the sharp pain in her legs the moment her feet touch the ground. The door of the train opens and she hears the roaring water again, is about to cover her ears when she realizes it’s not water at all but the crowd waiting on the platform.
Mags leads her off the train and she focuses on staying upright, all of her energy going to taking one step after another. She sways on her feet, her head aching, and blinks against the light, the crowd moving in and out of focus with waves of pain. Finally, she’s led away, Mags’s hand still gripping hers firmly. Distantly, Annie wonders if she’s leaving marks on Mags’s skin, if scales will soon sprout along her arm.
Once they’re beyond the train station the sound fades, the acrid smell of smoke fading into the more familiar scents of home. Salty air hits her face and she gulps it in gratefully, her pain easing the closer she gets to the water, the sound of waves and smell of salt enough to take the pain away completely. Mags tries to turn her towards her parents’ house but Annie follows the tug on her heart leading her to the ocean, stopping herself at the point where the waves just kiss the sand. She stands there, listening. Beneath the waves, she can hear the music.
”Welcome home,” Mags says softly, and Annie turns to look at her. There’s a flash of white in her eyes and Annie blinks, telling herself it’s a trick of the light. Her agony has receded to a dull ache now, her legs no longer on fire as she stands in the soft sand, the promise of water nearby. She breathes in the sea air gratefully, feeling her lungs expand fully in a way they haven’t since she came out of the water.
Reluctantly, she turns to go back to her house, leaving the call of the sea behind her. It will still be there tomorrow, she reminds herself. She won’t have to leave it behind again.
--
Time to herself is hard to find. Her parents hover, meaning well but clearly uncertain about what to do. They must have noticed a change in her. More than once she catches her father eyeing her suspiciously, studying her like he’s waiting for her to break. Her mother barely leaves her side, talking constantly and with such fervor that Annie is convinced she doesn’t expect any reply.
When it gets to be too much, she covers her ears and hums to herself, seeking comfort in her song. That gets her mother to stop talking, her parents exchanging nervous glances before leaving the room to whisper about her.
She manages to slip away at night, when her parents are sleeping soundly and the moon is bright overhead. Annie steps quietly out of the house, her footsteps barely making a sound, then runs the rest of the way to the beach, feeling its pull deep in her heart. She only pauses long enough to check that no one is around before throwing herself into the water, breathing a deep sigh as it welcomes her into its depths.
The transformation is effortless. Her scales glow silver in the moonlight, reflecting its glow in sparkles that dance through the water. She feels her hair billow around her as her eyes adjust to see everything below the water in clear detail, tiny schools of fish swimming around to welcome her. She beats her tail against the waves and uses it to propel herself deeper down, feeling her body relax as she breathes in the salt water. She runs her tongue along the sharp points of her teeth and smiles to herself. She feels powerful, a force to be reckoned with. Let them try to take her now.
As much as she wants to, she knows she can’t stay in the water forever. She spends as much time as she can moving through the depths, humming a few bars of her song, reveling in how easy it is to move without pain. The sea has always felt like home but now it’s more than that, it’s like she is one with the waves and all the creatures within them. As the light from the moon starts to give way to the early waves of dawn she reluctantly swims to the shore, watching her scales fade when she steps onto the sand, replaced with the nightgown she’d been wearing as she went into the water. She slips back into her house unnoticed and pretends to be asleep when her mother comes to check on her, tracing her tongue against the taste of salt water on her lips.
Some of the other victors come to check on her. Most stay away. They all grew up with the same legends, after all. Tales of creatures lurking in the deep, waiting for them to let their guard down. Mags doesn’t seem swayed. Neither does Finnick Odair. He comes with Mags, never on his own. Sits beside her as she makes small talk with Annie’s mother, eyes Annie curiously as he adds sugar to his tea. When she covers her ears and starts to hum he seems unfazed, staying in his seat when her parents make excuses to leave the room, Mags following with a determined glint in her eyes.
Finnick doesn’t flinch when she looks at him, trying to see what lies beneath the surface. He’s their most famous victor, beloved in the Capitol, shining and arrogant and beautiful, and Annie thinks she should hate him. But he’s looking at her like he isn’t afraid, and maybe that counts for something.
Every night, she goes to the sea. Its pull is constant, her body always aware of the ebb and flow of the tides, the motion of the waves. She feels it even when she’s on land, a part of her always left in its depths. In the morning her parents find her tangled in salt-stained sheets, strings of seaweed dried across her pillow. They don’t ask, and she doesn’t explain.
One night she feels a presence on the beach. Her skin pricks in warning, her song close to her throat, but she keeps it at bay. Carefully, she swims to the surface, lifting just her eyes above water to scan the shore. There’s a figure sitting on the rocks, staring out at the water, bronze hair glinting in the moonlight. Annie concentrates and feels a wave of loneliness, like it’s just the two of them here beneath the stretch of stars.
Slowly, she moves closer, paddling below the surface with a few well placed splashes to give him the chance to run away. When she reaches the shallows, she gathers her tail beneath her and lifts her head above the surface, knowing the moonlight is reflecting off the scales across her face, the white of her eyes, the flash of teeth when she opens her mouth for air.
She stares at Finnick on the shore and knows he’s seen her, his eyes wide and something like awe on his face. She takes her time getting out of the water, watching the silver scales melt back into her skin and taking careful steps across the sand to get her feet back under her. Finnick doesn’t move from where he sits on a rock and she stops in front of him, lifting her chin in defiant challenge.
“Annie.” His voice is careful and soft, his eyes glancing over her skin before meeting hers. The glow of the moon highlights the slope of his nose, the shadows beneath his eyes. Annie gets that feeling again, loneliness pooling somewhere between them.
“Are you afraid?” she asks, waiting for him to turn and run, for him to plug his ears and put himself far away from her.
His lips quirk upward ever so slightly. “Should I be?”
“My parents are. Leif is. The others. They can’t even look at me.”
Finnick blinks and gets to his feet, his footsteps barely making a sound in the soft sand. “Should I be afraid?” he repeats, holding her gaze.
Annie feels a thrill of power, of want, of seeing herself through someone else’s eyes and liking what she sees. “No,” she answers softly. She watches him take a breath, then his lips turn up in a small smile that makes warmth pool in her chest. He goes back to the rocks he’d been sitting on and gestures for her to join him, leaving room beside him as he looks back out over the sea. Annie hesitates for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, then makes herself move forward. The rocks are cool and smooth beneath her skin as she sits, leaving a small amount of space between her and Finnick. They don’t speak again, both of them looking out at the waves, and when Annie walks back home she feels their calming rhythm following close behind.
From that night on, Finnick sometimes joins her for her midnight swims. He usually stays on the beach while she explores the water, gathering her energy from the cool depths. Sometimes she catches him watching her, his expression awed, before he ducks his head and looks away. She doesn’t sing when he’s around. Not even when she’s deep underwater, where the sound might not reach him. She told him he had no reason to fear her, and she meant it.
When she surfaces she joins him on the beach, either sitting on the rocks or walking along the shore or sprawling out in the sand with their eyes turned to the stars. They talk, sometimes. Mostly Finnick talks, and she listens. She gets the sense not many people do. Venom creeps into his voice when he talks about the Capitol and she feels her teeth sharpen when she thinks about that place, phantom pain stabbing through her legs as she breathes in the ocean air to remind herself she’s safe here at home. She can tell he’s holding something back, though, not quite getting at the heart of his fury, whatever it is that makes him retreat into himself when he comes back from there.
“Does it hurt you?” he asks one night, unprompted. She’s just come out of the water and can feel the salt sticking to her skin where the scales disappeared. “To be on land?”
She shakes her head. “Not here. In the Capitol, though.” The sensation comes back, a sharp twinge of memory, and she flinches.
He nods, some of his own pain showing on his face, and Annie wonders if their experiences of the Capitol are all that different when it comes down to it. A glittering fortress that holds only pain and bad memories, too far from everything that makes them feel like themselves.
--
The Victory Tour brings even worse agony than before, now that she’s grown accustomed to the closeness of the ocean at home. She can barely stand up straight on stage, razor blades stabbing into her feet with every step. Her lungs struggle to breathe the stale air in the other districts, not a hint of salt or sea to be found. They ask questions, expect her to speak, and she can do nothing but cover her ears and hum, desperate for her song to ease her pain. The stops grow shorter, the silences from the people greeting her longer.
The Capitol is the worst of it, all that glitter and opulence so far from the shores of home that she nearly faints from the lack of air the moment she is escorted into the President’s mansion. Mags’s hand grips her elbow and she leans in to her mentor, the closest thing she has to home. The party is decorated with sculptures meant to imitate sand sitting in pools of water that she can’t risk getting close to. Nobody here can be trusted to see her transformation. It went unnoticed in the Games, but she won’t rely on luck a second time. She gets close enough to one of the pools to smell it and reels back, nearly gagging at the stench. It’s something rotten, chemical, nothing like the briny salt of home.
The train pulls into District Four as dusk is falling and she stumbles onto the platform, the pull of the ocean stronger than ever. She follows it blindly, still not quite able to draw air into her lungs, finally relaxing once she can sink her toes into the soft sand. She can’t go into the water, not yet, not when there’s another party to attend here, but she feels herself relax in its presence. Tonight, she promises, both to herself and to the sea.
Finnick is at the party. He pulls her onto the floor to dance, his hands floating over her waist as she takes cautious steps with him, her body still not quite recovered from the weeks away. He leans in to whisper in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “Meet you at the beach tonight?”
It’s an offer, a question, a chance for her to take her solitude if she wants it. She nods, her heart leaping at the thought of the ocean and Finnick, no longer sure which one is responsible for the feeling.
When she manages to slip down to the beach later that night, Finnick is already there, treading water a few paces from shore and watching her as she crosses the sand. “I thought I’d swim with you,” he says carefully, and she hears the question in his voice again, one she knows she could refuse and he would think no differently of her. Instead, she steps into the water and dives underneath, feeling her lungs and body relax as it welcomes her home. She stays under until she’s covered in shimmering scales, her tail beating against the current, her hair flowing and tangled, her teeth sharp against her tongue. When she surfaces, Finnick is right there watching her, his eyes transfixed like he’s memorizing every scale on her skin.
Annie laughs, suddenly giddy with relief to be back home, safe here in her cove and away from the crowds. Finnick joins her, his eyes lighting up with his smile, and they swim together for a long time, making a game out of Finnick trying to keep up with her. Eventually, she takes pity on him, slowing so they can swim side by side, her tail occasionally brushing against his skin. When they surface, Finnick is closer than ever, his breath mixing with the air between them. He reaches out to touch her hair and she stays as still as possible as he brushes it back from her face, looking almost shy when he takes his hand back. Her heart thuds against her chest and she wants more of him, wants him to keep looking at her like she’s something precious and not something to fear. She can tell he’s getting tired, not able to stay as long as she can, so she leads them to the shore and finds a place to sit on the sand, laying back to look at the stars and feeling him lay beside her.
“Was it bad?” he asks, and she knows he means the Tour. She turns her head to look at him and sees his face twisted in concern.
She nods, wincing at the memory of days spent with knives across her skin, half expecting to see a trail of blood behind her as she marched across those stages.
Finnick ghosts his fingers across her cheek. “You won’t have to go back there again.” His eyes are ablaze with a promise Annie isn’t sure he can really make, but she believes him anyway. He looks back out at the water and Annie takes a moment to study him, the way the moonlight highlights the sharp lines of his face, casting him half in shadow. During her Tour she heard whispers about him, people in the Capitol asking if she knew him, talking about him like they thought she wouldn’t hear. Or assumed she wouldn’t care. The shadows she sees under his eyes make more sense now, the tension in his shoulders when he talks about the Capitol. She wishes she could make the same promise to him, could keep him safe here within the shores of home.
“Can I ask you something?” His voice startles her from her thoughts and she blushes, realizing he’s caught her staring. Annie nods, watching him curiously. “Why don’t you sing when I’m around?” His voice is careful, level, and she wonders how long he’s been working up the courage to ask.
Uneasiness pricks at her skin. She’s been careful here. She remembers how it felt in the arena, to sing, to draw people in with her voice and pull them below the water. The power it gave her, that feeling of taking what she wanted, the flash of fear in their eyes as the spell broke and they realized it was too late to save themselves. She knows the stories, too, the same ones Finnick does. Sailors drawn to the depths by a beautiful song, driven mad by their need to find its source. The stories end one of two ways–either they are doomed to drown or they take the creature as a wife and never let her into the sea again, thinking they can tame something so wild and unpredictable. They’re just stories, but Annie doesn’t want them to be true. Not with Finnick, who looks at her with his eyes full of wonder and treats her with kindness and affection for who she is, not what she is. “I want to know this is real.” She makes sure to hold his gaze when she says it, watching for how he’ll react.
His lips turn up in a shy smile and he takes her hand, lacing their fingers together before he speaks. “This is real,” he says softly.
She feels his hand in hers, steady and sure, and before she knows it she’s surging forward and kissing him. His lips taste like saltwater and citrus, moving against hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Finnick pulls away suddenly, a delighted laugh bubbling from his throat.
“What?” she asks, his delight so contagious she feels a little lightheaded.
“It’s nothing.” He chuckles again and touches his hand to her cheek. “It’s just… My dad was an old superstitious sailor,” he explains. “If he could see me now…”
She laughs with him, then pulls him in for another kiss.
--
Being with Finnick is as natural as the tides. He is similarly drawn to the water, both of them finding it one of the only places where they can breathe freely. Sometimes he swims with her, other times he perches on an outcrop of rocks and lounges while she swims circles around him, popping up every now and then to tell him about something she saw in the depths. She learns that he’s a little funny, a little shy. He’s often quiet, something she wouldn’t have expected but comes to understand as a sign that he’s comfortable around her and doesn’t feel the need to put on an act or fill the silence with meaningless chatter.
When he has to go to the Capitol, she tries not to imagine him in those closed off rooms, far away from the salt and sea air. Her Finnick is larger than life, too special to be kept inside and put up on a shelf for admiration. He belongs out here, wind blowing through his hair, sea spray dancing across his skin. She waits for him at the beach when he comes back, taking his cue before touching him or asking about his trip. Sometimes he wants to talk, sometimes he wants to sit in the silence and hold her.
Each time she wishes she could make them pay, feels the sharp points of her teeth and her claws as they burst through her hand, imagines digging them into the throats of the people who hurt him, who take pieces of him they don’t deserve. Then Finnick puts his hand in hers, his skin soft and warm to the touch, and she makes her anger fade away. At least they have this.
The day the Quarter Quell is announced, Annie feels that phantom ache in her feet, sharp like razor blades climbing up her legs even as she keeps her feet firmly planted on the sandy shore. Finnick is beside her, clutching her hand like a lifeline, both of them looking out at the churning sea and wondering how many times they have left to see it. Annie knows there is something he’s not telling her. His visits to the Capitol have stayed consistent, but his reaction to them has changed. He often comes home brimming with energy that burns off him in anxious waves, the source of which he won’t share. She can feel him watching her when he thinks she isn’t looking, his forehead creased with worry, his touch always close when she meets his gaze.
The night before the reaping, they swim together under the moonlight. Annie watches her scales send light refracting through the water, glittering and fragile. Finnick floats on his back and she lingers beside him, careful not to dig into his skin with her claws when she takes his hand and presses it to her lips. She tastes salt and can’t tell if it’s the water or the tears streaming down her cheeks. Finnick sits up, brushes his hand across her cheek. He leans in to kiss her and she pulls back, afraid to let him get too close to her teeth. His gaze is steady as he runs his hand through her tangled hair, the echo of one of their first conversations coming back to her now.
Are you afraid?
Should I be?
She takes a breath and meets him halfway, kissing him softly and carefully, every inch of her alive with the feeling. His arms wrap around her and she beats her tail to keep them both above water, giving in to the feeling of his hands against her scales, in her hair, caressing her cheek. She tastes blood on her tongue and pulls back with a gasp, watching as Finnick dabs at his lip and then leans in for another, gentler kiss, lingering in it before reluctantly disentangling himself and gesturing towards shore. They swim back in, close enough that she can feel Finnick’s skin brushing against hers, lighting a fire beneath her as she sheds her scales and steps onto the sand. They don’t go far as they pick up where they left off, heat burning between them at every point where their bodies touch. Annie doesn’t think she’s ever felt so alive, so in love, and she chokes back a sob when it’s over and they lay entangled with each other in the sand.
In the morning, she knows he’ll go to the Capitol. It seems inevitable that this happiness can’t last. If she goes with him, she’ll be in endless agony from the moment she steps on the train, but at least she’ll have him. If she doesn’t go, the pain will find her anyway. Finnick’s arms tighten around her like he’s listening to her thoughts and she buries her face in his neck, letting the salt of her tears mix with the ocean and sweat on his skin, desperate to somehow stop the sun from rising.
The pain starts when she steps onto the reaping stage. It begins in her feet, sharp and stabbing, and moves through her legs, to her heart, her head. She focuses on Finnick, standing on the other side of the stage with Leif and Kai, sun reflecting his bright green eyes as he risks a look back at her to give an encouraging nod. Annie falters, wavering slightly, and feels an arm come around her to catch her. Mags. Her mentor looks at her with a determined glint in her eyes that Annie doesn’t understand until moments later when her name is called and Mags’s arm disappears from around her shoulders to raise straight into the air.
She’s not sure what happens after that. All she knows is the pain doesn’t stop, not even when she walks on the beach and breathes in the salt air. She’s afraid to go into the water, not sure if the transformation will work when she’s in this state. She barricades herself in the house she shares with Finnick and doesn’t open the door for anyone–not her parents, not the other victors. When they knock she covers her ears and hums, listening to her own song and waiting for them to go away.
The television stays on as she drifts in and out of awareness, coming to when she sees Finnick’s face and hears his voice, then melting away when he’s gone. Things come back into focus when she sees the arena–a glittering circle of water, vast and expansive and deadly for those who have never seen such a thing. She feels a strange pang of regret. This arena was built for her. She feels the shadow of fangs against her tongue, her hands itching for blood. The gong sounds. Finnick goes under, and she goes with him.
The next thing to get her attention is Finnick’s face on screen, dappled in moonlight and beautiful as ever. Annie moves closer, her fingers tracing his face. There’s blood on one side of his head, dripping down into his eyes, and she remembers the taste on her tongue. A figure comes up behind him, teeth bared, and he turns to meet her with a snarl as Annie watches, tears streaming down her face. There’s movement somewhere–she watches it through Finnick, sees his eyes widen, a shout escaping from his lips, and then… The television flickers and turns to static and Annie screams, bashes her hands against it to try and make him come back.
The silence is eerie, unsettling. Annie tries to listen for the waves and hears nothing but ringing in her ears. A sense of foreboding falls over her and she suddenly feels the pull of the ocean stronger than ever, tugging her urgently to its depths. She tries to stand and stumbles, her legs sore and cramped from days of sitting curled up on the floor. It’s dark outside as she falls onto the path, air burning in her lungs, and she tries to stand on unsteady limbs. No one’s lights are on, the curtains all drawn, and she desperately pushes herself down the path to the beach, trying in vain to hear the sound of the waves over her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
The water is in sight, glittering under the stars, and she lets out a pained sob, willing herself to move closer. Just as she’s about to step on the sand, she’s surrounded. Hands close around her arms as she kicks and screams, her feet making contact with at least one Peacekeeper. Someone swears, then stronger hands are at her ankles, hoisting her from the ground. She screams again, tries to find her song, anything to get them to drop her so she can get to the water, and feels a hand clamp over her mouth. She bites down, hard, no fangs to help her but the effect still enough to make the hand pull away. She manages to get one note out, clear and mournful, before there’s something sharp pressing in the crook of her elbow and everything fades to black.
--
Time passes differently in the Capitol. Annie doesn’t know how long it’s been since she and Finnick lay on the beach, since she heard him recite his poem for her, since she watched him disappear on the television screen. They threw her in this brightly lit cell and left her there, alone at first and then joined by others. Voices she recognizes, faces she never sees. A few times they tried to get information out of her, but they seem to have given up on that. She’s not sure she could speak even if she wanted to, her throat dry and scarred from thirst and the screams that come almost of their own accord.
Johanna is next to her. Annie figures it out after a few days, using a rare burst of energy to place the voice she hears through the wall. It takes a little longer because she’s never heard Johanna cry and plead, the sounds unfamiliar in her voice. They fill Johanna’s cell with water and leave Annie’s dry as a bone. She wonders if they know the effect water would have on her, if they fear what she might become, then banishes that thought. No one in the Capitol has ever paid attention to District legends. For all they know she won her Games by holding her breath the longest and waiting to be rescued. No, the lack of water is purely to keep her from anything that might feel like home.
Her skin is cracked and dry, the agony almost a comfort at this point because it means she’s still alive. She’s given up on standing, walking. If they need her to move they drag her. It’s not worth feeling the knives in her feet. She longs for a taste of salt, of sand. For the feeling of sun on her skin, the cool embrace of the waves as she travels into the depths. Early on she could conjure a shadow of the feeling, could bring up a memory to give herself comfort for a brief moment. After a while, she starts to forget it altogether. She can’t remember the exact blue of the ocean at twilight, the pattern of the tides that she once felt like her own heartbeat. It’s all gone, replaced with a burning ache and a stabbing pain in her skull. No music comes, and she stops trying to summon it.
Finnick isn’t here. She would feel if he was, drawn to him the same way she’s drawn to the ocean waves. She supposes that’s why she’s still alive. They still want Finnick, which means they have to keep her. His face floats in her mind and she tries to remember the taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on her skin, but all she feels is the ache of his absence. Eventually, she stops trying to remember.
The first sign that something is happening is that she wakes in darkness. She’s gotten used to the constant light–bright white and blinding, occasionally flickering or getting dimmer but always there. Now there is nothing and she wonders if they’ve decided to kill her after all, if this is how they do it. There’s movement outside her cell–she thinks she hears footsteps, the clatter of something falling to the floor, a brief spurt of gunfire. That wakes her up and she forces herself to her feet, doubling over in pain as she retreats back to the corner of the cell, trying wildly to see in the dark. When the door opens, smoke clouds into the room and she coughs, feeling it burn her already raw throat, gasping for air. She opens her mouth for a scream that doesn’t come and feels herself falling, hands coming to catch her just before she hits the ground.
When she wakes, something is different. The light is softer, yellowed and old, the walls a muted grey instead of clean crisp white. She takes a tentative breath and tastes stale air–musty, like it’s been separated from its source for too long. There’s no sun nearby, no salt, no waves. Another place that isn’t home. She’s about to fade back into unconsciousness when she feels a tug on her heart, the same one that pulls her to the ocean. She senses sunlight, warm and welcoming, and feels a heart beating alongside hers. Desperately, Annie opens her eyes and follows the feeling, catching sight of faded bronze hair and bright green eyes set against too pale skin and then she’s on her feet, ignoring the pain with each step and feeling it recede as she launches herself into Finnick’s arms.
“Annie,” he chokes in her ear, his voice soft and sweet as ever. She inhales deeply, drinking him in like sunlight and saltwater. His hands are moving over her body, memorizing her, and she clutches him to her, unwilling to let any space form between them. “You’re safe,” he murmurs, over and over, repeating it for both of their sakes.
Annie pulls back just enough to see his eyes, bright green and deep as the ocean, then presses their lips together in a desperate kiss, tasting the salt of tears falling from both of their eyes. It’s enough to make her forget that every step is agony, that she hasn’t felt the sun on her skin in what feels like forever, that she’s not sure she’ll ever see home again. For now she’s just happy to be with Finnick, feeling his arms around her, sure and strong.
--
The pain comes back. It ebbs and flows, some days harder than others. On really bad days she covers her ears and hums, watching everyone around her get uncomfortable and leave her alone, only Finnick staying by her side. If she had more space to think, she’d find it amusing. Even the people who know nothing of District Four legends know to be wary of the music that spills from her throat. It’s a useful defense.
Finnick tries to ease her pain. He swipes a salt shaker from the kitchen and mixes it into a glass of water, dabbing it against her skin like it can mimic the feel of the ocean. There are no bath tubs here in District Thirteen, and water use is highly regulated. Annie tries standing in the shower, watching for the glisten of scales on her skin, but it’s no use. The water is too weak, too chemical, nothing like the natural ferocity of home. For the most part being around Finnick is enough–he is just as much home as the salt air. She clings to his hand and he does the same, neither of them willing to let the other go. She understands that this is the rebellion, that there are forces moving around her that she knows little about, but she doesn’t care. All she wants is to go home and take Finnick with her.
The one bright spot is their wedding. Finnick brings up the idea, shyly, his cheeks flushed as he stammers through the question. Annie takes his face in her hands and kisses him eagerly, the love she feels overpowering the ache in her chest. Nothing else is the way it should be, but this is right. The two of them, committing to each other, shouting their love to everyone who will hear.
Katniss gives her a dress, a pretty green thing that reminds her of Finnick’s eyes and the shallows of the ocean on a clear day. A lot of planning goes into the event, a lot of things she and Finnick don’t care about, but they insist on a few things. The net, woven carefully in their tiny cramped compartment, Annie relieved to feel an ache in her fingers from familiar work instead of her distance from home. Finnick teaches someone the traditional wedding song and sends them off to teach it to others, echoes of it reaching Annie through the labyrinthine hallways. It brings tears to her eyes, her throat aching to sing along, to hear her own music echoing alongside it.
When she sees Finnick waiting for her, looking handsome as ever in a borrowed suit, she takes her first steps without pain in ages, her feet light as she all but floats down the aisle to his waiting hands. His smile is blinding and she’s sure hers is too, neither of them able to take their eyes off the other. Their net is draped over them and Annie breathes deeply, trying to conjure up the memories of home. When it’s time for the salt water, Annie dips her fingers in the little stone bowl and gasps at the flash of silver that appears where the water touches, receding back into her skin as she touches the water to Finnick’s lips. He gives her a knowing look as he does the same, his fingers and the salt warm against her skin, and when she closes her eyes she can almost hear the waves crashing against the shore.
They kiss, short and sweet, a promise and gratitude all in one. Annie floats through the party, absently thanking well-wishers but unable to keep her eyes off Finnick. He takes her hand and twirls her into a dance, his eyes crinkling at the corner as he looks at her. “Are you hurting?” he asks, quiet enough that only she can hear.
She shakes her head and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Not tonight.”
The responding smile is bright and dazzling, like looking into the sun, and she drinks it in, letting warmth surround her. She dances to unfamiliar music with her husband, her feet twirling and stepping without pain, letting herself forget about everything outside of this moment. Finnick’s hands never leave her skin, the contact a steady comfort, a reminder of how far they’ve come. She thinks she could live the rest of her life in his arms and never want for anything, so content to be by his side.
When they finally sneak away from the party, her feet are sore from dancing, but it’s a pain she revels in, nothing like the stabbing of knives that has plagued her until now. She giggles when they trip into their cramped compartment, their hands roaming lazily over each other like they have all the time in the world. Finnick helps her out of her dress, hanging it carefully in the closet, his hands warm against her skin as she feels herself react to his touch. They kiss, softly at first, then with a hunger like she hasn’t felt since before the reaping, remembering that last night they spent on the beach.
After, they lay tangled together, Annie’s hand over Finnick’s heart as she counts the steady beats. Finnick brushes his nose over her hair, then drops a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there as she nestles closer to him. “This is real,” she says softly, almost to herself.
Finnick’s arm tightens around her. “Real,” he confirms. Buoyed by his answer, with the memory of their wedding song playing through her head, Annie falls into the first restful sleep she’s had since before the Quarter Quell was announced.
The joy of the wedding lingers, but soon old aches creep back in, the reality of their life trapped here underground. Annie disappears from herself every now and then, covering her ears and singing, feeling Finnick’s touch to ground her when she finds her way back. Their wedding was part of a larger strategy and she knows there will be more expected, that the rebellion can’t exist only on camera. Finnick gets pulled into whispered meetings and she waits for him in their compartment, unwilling to face anyone without him by her side. He doesn’t keep secrets from her now. She doesn’t blame him for keeping them before, when her capture was an inevitable risk. Now he tells her what is happening, what will be expected of him.
Their time together passes too quickly. Annie wants to ask him to stay with her, to let the others fight, to keep him safe within reach even if it means they never see the sun again. She stops herself every time. She loves every bit of Finnick–his humor, his capacity for love, his determination to see things through to the end. She won’t ask him to sacrifice that.
The night before he leaves, he whispers to her about home, describing the ocean in all its colors, talking about everything they’ll do when they get back. She closes her eyes and imagines that’s where they are, water surrounding her and Finnick by her side, chasing waves and starlight until they’re both wrung out and exhausted. The memories are so vivid, Finnick’s words so soothing, and she falls asleep feeling like she’s rocking on the ocean’s waves, the smell of salt pulling her home.
--
When Annie finally goes home, she is alone. She sinks into the water, letting it take her, and stays there for days at a time. There is nothing waiting for her on land, just an empty house in an empty village in a war-torn district. Her family is gone. Her neighbors are gone. Finnick is gone. All she has left is the water and its creatures, swirling around her and welcoming her home like no time has passed. It’s safer here, she thinks. Safer to be alone.
She sings, a mournful song that echoes back to her on the waves, spilling from her lips and tearing her heart open. It’s the only place she can put her grief and she lets it flow out of her, part of her hoping it will somehow bring him back, that he’ll hear it from wherever he is and do anything he can to find his way back to her.
When sailors start taking to the water again she keeps them back from the cove, singing a warning song so they turn back and stop coming altogether. She won’t harm them, not intentionally, but she won’t have them invading her space either. There’s a wide ocean out there. This corner of it belongs to her.
She is going to have a baby. She learned this the same day she learned of Finnick’s death, in the hospital in District Thirteen where they’d brought her after she collapsed at the news. The doctor hovered around her, seeming to wait for a reaction, but she had none. All she felt was the ache of the loss, terror at facing the world without Finnick by her side. She no longer felt any touch of the ocean, its memory gone with Finnick. It wasn’t until she finally made it home that she was able to really process the news, to think about what it meant for her future.
When she feels the baby move inside her for the first time, she bursts to the surface of the water, gasping for air as her hand falls to her stomach, her scales glittering in the sun. Tears flow from her eyes, dripping into the waves, and she imagines Finnick beside her, shaking water from his hair, his hand reaching for hers underwater. She swims back to shore, taking careful steps on the sand as she gets used to the feeling of having her legs under her again. It feels real now. Tentatively, she goes back to her house. She starts cleaning it up, careful to avoid misplacing any of Finnick’s things. She sleeps in her bed and fights against nightmares that won’t leave her alone. In the morning, she’s still exhausted, but she gets out of bed anyway and makes herself tea and breakfast. The waves call to her, and she takes a deep breath. Her baby will know the love of the ocean, of his father, of his mother. That is what she has to make sure of now.
--
Shortly after her arrival home, the borders between the Districts open. Tourists come to District Four, sinking their feet into the sandy beaches and splashing around in the clear blue waters. Many of them are from the Capitol. Many of them, she knows, have had their hands on her husband. They saw nothing wrong with it. He was theirs for their taking, a commodity they could buy for a price, a lover who couldn’t turn them down. The man responsible for all of it is dead, but there are so many more of them still walking free, deemed innocent enough to escape punishment.
Her husband is gone, and she can’t bring him back. But she can make them pay for what they did to him. Make them pay for how they took him from her piece by piece, brought him back to that place over and over again, stole the little time she had with him for their own pleasure.
When one of their vessels invades the quiet of Victors Cove, she slips into the water, feeling her body transform and moving quickly through the sea, silver scales sparkling and her hair billowing around her. They’ve rented a small sailboat and clearly forgone the District Four guide, no doubt as a means of preserving their own superiority. A District Four sailor would never let them get this close to Victors Cove. Annie has heard the whispers in town about something that lurks beneath the surface in these parts, waiting to drag sailors down with it. Sailors warn each other to stuff their ears with cotton if they ever find they’ve drifted too close to the cove lest they fall victim to the creature’s spell.
Annie wants to tell them they shouldn’t bother. They’re not the ones she’s after.
Her song comes easily, starting soft and growing louder the closer she gets to the boat. She can feel the attention of the passengers, two Capitolites tittering over cocktails and woefully unprepared for a day at sea. She moves her arms to urge the waves on, watching as the boat rocks in response. Her song grows louder, more complex, its melody shifting to something dark and beautiful, and she feels the moment she has them fully ensnared. They’re leaning on the side of the boat, almost fully over the side, her song drowning out all reason as they can think of nothing else but getting to its source. Annie swims closer and lingers below the surface, watching their eyes catch her movement, the sun sparkling off her scales and dancing in their eyes.
They’re almost fully over the edge now, greedy hands reaching for her, oblivious to the whirlpool she’s creating around them, the sea waiting to swallow them whole. At the last moment, she lifts her head above the surface. The song stops. She sees the moment the spell breaks, their faces going from rapt delight to terror at her bared teeth, her milky white eyes, her scaled hands reaching for them. They try to right themselves but it’s too late, her hands already closing around their throats to yank them into the water in one smooth movement. The sea swirls around her, welcoming her gift, twisting and spinning as they are pulled into the inky blackness below. Annie watches them go, her eyes unblinking. Gradually, the sea calms. Light filters through from the surface, schools of fish return to swim easily around Annie, brushing against her as they recognize her as one of their own. She smiles, bares her teeth. They were the first. They certainly won’t be the last.
Annie shakes out her hair and starts towards the shore, feeling the water hugging her as she moves through it. She reaches the sand and feels her scales melt away, her legs steady as she steps out of the water, her eyes back to their usual green. For a moment she imagines he’s there waiting for her, awestruck at her appearance, waiting to take her hand and walk with her back up to their house.
Sunlight warms her skin as she walks back up the lane and she closes her eyes, hearing the gulls calling and the waves gently kissing the shore. She drops a hand to her stomach, a few scales still sparkling as they fade back into her skin, and breathes in the salt air. This is their home. She won’t let them take it the way they took him.