Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Annie loved how the ocean looked at night. 

The soft crash of waves against the shore, sand bathed in a full moon’s light, soundtracked her steps along the beach. Her sandals dangled from her wrist, swinging back and forth, as she held her arms out for balance. Damp, cold sand was her tightrope as the sea became her audience, roaring in approval for Panem’s best trapeze artist who was about to break the record and—and—

“What are you doing?” 

Annie opened her eyes, instantly frustrated at the disruption to her game. She was an imaginative child, often lost in the realms of creativity, and she’d snuck out of her window at night so that she could be alone in her adventures. If she’d wanted company, she would’ve dragged Nixie or Tobias out with her. The Victors’ private beach was guaranteed to be deserted at most times of the day, but Annie liked the darkness currently surrounding her. It helped her expand her vision, and now someone was intruding. 

“None of your business.” 

Annie whirled around, her auburn locks rumpled from the breeze. It was spring, which meant that District Four was just struggling its way out of a harsh, windy winter. 

In front of her, was someone that Annie had never seen before in her life. Granted, she was only seven and, as the daughter of a Victor, she didn’t really know a lot of people in her district. She was rather secluded from her peers - she was privately tutored, rarely ventured out of the Victor’s Village, and only played out with the other Victors’ kids or her siblings. This boy interrupting her game was not anyone she’d ever seen before but, to be fair, she didn’t really see many people. 

“I should be asking you that question,” Annie continued, hands on her hips. “You’re not allowed on this beach. I don’t know who you are,” she declared piously. 

“And you’re the owner of this beach, are ya?” 

The boy had tousled blonde curls in desperate need of a trim; was missing his two front teeth, and spoke with what Annie’s mother would call a ‘harbour brat accent.’ Annie wasn’t as snobby as her mom, but she couldn’t help thinking about it. 

“Well, I do live here.” Annie shrugged, gesturing to the circle of Victor houses that rested atop the cove, overlooking the beach. She had a great view of the sea from her bedroom and, when the tide came in, she liked to open her window so she could hear the rush of the waves lapping up at the cliff. 

“Tha’ explains why I’ve never seen you, neither,” the boy responded, rubbing a grubby hand over his tanned face. 

He had the build of a harbour kid for sure, little muscles sitting in puny arms, and the complexion of someone who spent a lot of time outside. Annie, on the other hand, was as pale as snow - though she’d never actually seen snow; her dad just often compared her to what he’d seen in an outer district on his Victory Tour. 

“Either,” Annie corrected automatically. 

“What?” 

Pardon, Annie’s brain instantly supplied, but she bit her tongue for that one. “The correct sentence would be ‘That explains why I haven’t seen you, either’ because of—oh, never mind.” Flustered by the boy’s unimpressed arched eyebrow, she cut herself off, fiddling with the ends of her hair. 

“Alright, Little Miss Know-It-All.”

The boy whistled, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his startling blue eyes. Annie couldn’t help but think that the colour was exactly like the ocean shimmering under the summer sun. Not the dark expanse of water that it was now, but the sparkling waves that graced the shore in the warmer months. 

“What’s your name, anyway?” The boy asked, plopping down onto the wet sand beneath them. He wasn’t wearing shoes either but he didn’t have them on his person like Annie. 

“What’s yours?” She countered. 

The boy shook his head. “I asked you first.”

“Fine,” Annie conceded, sitting down on the beach next to him. The waves teased the sand only a few feet away from them, leaving foamy remnants in its wake. “I’m Annie Cresta.” 

The boy lit up with recognition. “Like as in Hadley Cresta? 37th Victor?” 

“That’s my daddy, yes.” 

“Cool,” he gushed out before tagging on, “I’m Finnick Odair.” 

Annie didn’t know the family name, which wasn’t unsurprising. The only families she interacted with were the ones who lived in the Victors’ Village, and the Odairs certainly weren’t one of those. However, Finnick didn’t seem as annoying as he had when he’d interrupted her game - though she did quite want to get back to her own company. She wasn’t the most sociable of children. 

“You must be well rich,” Finnick was saying enviously. “Them houses are massive.” He dropped his head backwards. 

Annie held herself back from correcting his grammar again. “It’s all I’ve ever known,” she said honestly. “They’re fun to play hide and seek in with my siblings.” 

“I bet,” Finnick hummed, running sand through his fingers. “Are you going to join the academy?” 

The academy that he spoke of was Four’s training programme, implemented years ago by one of Annie’s favourite people - Mags Flanagan, the District’s first ever Victor. Over the years, it had gone from an extracurricular class to an actual school that you could enroll in. Children from the age of nine could join, and they moved up the ranks depending on their age group and how skilled they were. 

The idea behind it was to try and ensure that the district was sending off equipped children into the Games. Boys and girls were paired up from age fourteen, and could work together in order to compete for the final goal of becoming the chosen pair prior to the Reaping. Annie wasn’t sure of the details but she knew there was a system to the volunteering; to eliminate the possibility of usurpers, and to make sure that no unprepared child was sent off to their death. 

It was something that Annie’s parents fought about a lot. 

Her mother didn’t want her children to become trained killers but, with Nixie approaching Reaping age, her father was terrified that his children would be picked on purpose. Of course, the academy’s volunteers guaranteed that someone would probably take her place - especially as she was a respected Victor’s daughter - but, then again, that position was a double edged sword in itself. People could always assume that Hadley would’ve trained his children adequately enough. 

He did, to be honest. All the Victors had taught the Cresta kids (and every other child in the Village) simple skills, but it still wasn’t as thorough as the classes at the academy. Annie’s dad was paranoid, and wanted all three of them to be prepared no matter what, but her mom didn’t want to increase their chances of going into the arena. Even at seven, this was something that Annie understood - simply because she had to. 

She didn’t know how to say all of this to Finnick, though. She didn’t even know the boy, and would’ve have ever known him if it wasn’t for him trespassing. Annie wasn’t great with words but Finnick was looking at her expectantly. 

“Um, I’m not sure yet. Daddy wants us to, but Mommy thinks it’s a—“

“Oi! Who’s down there?” 

Finnick jumped out of his bones, leaping to his feet, as the loud voice of a Peacekeeper boomed across the beach. They did regular patrols at night, as proven by the torch shone down onto them, but they didn’t tend to care about the Victor’s Village. Annie was allowed to be down here - her dad had earned it, after all - but a harbour brat like Finnick wasn’t. She had to think quickly. 

“Crap, Annie,” Finnick sounded genuinely terrified. 

At that, she couldn’t help but wonder whether Peacekeepers treated everyone else more harshly than they did with those in the Village. Maybe she was just always protected by the adults around her; maybe she ought to be as scared as him now that she didn’t have her dad to hide behind. 

“It’s okay,” Annie said serenely, also standing up. 

The Peacekeeper was approaching now, not seeming as urgent since he’d probably realised they were just kids. Finnick sent her a disbelieving look, trembling a little, and she couldn’t believe how rapidly his bravado had slipped away. 

“Just stay quiet and trust me. Do you trust me?” 

“I—yeah,” Finnick said slowly, because he had to, didn’t he? She had the upper hand over him right now, and she was the only one who could possibly get him out of trouble. 

“Ah, Miss Cresta.” 

The Peacekeeper was one of the regular ones that often patrolled the Victor’s Village. He wasn’t friendly, per say, but Arnold was nothing to be scared of. At least, Annie didn’t think so, anyway, but Finnick’s trembling was making her think that her perception of Peacekeepers was somewhat awry. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Annie said truthfully. “I thought I’d come for a little walk.” 

“I don’t think your father would be happy with you wandering the beach by yourself in the dark.” Arnold’s eyes slid to Finnick, narrowing once he realised that he didn’t recognise him. “And who’s this?” 

“Oh, this is Finnick,” Annie introduced him easily, turning a smile to the boy and trying to signal to him that he needed to calm down. “He’s one of Mags’ charges. He ended up staying a little late at her house for class tonight, and offered me some company.” 

Arnold seemed to buy into her story - it was believable, after all. Mags ran private training for kids who were too young to start at the academy yet, and she disguised them as tutoring. “Regular citizens aren’t supposed to use this beach, though, Miss Cresta. You know the rules.” 

“I know,” Annie sighed, a forlorn expression on her face. “I completely forgot. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t down here by myself, you know? Finnick offered to look after me because he’s older.”

She was completely guessing that last part - she figured they were around the same age but, due to Finnick’s taller height, she reckoned that he might have a few years on her. 

“Makes sense.” Arnold nodded, and Finnick exhaled in relief. “Back to your houses, though, both of you. I don’t want to see you here again, understand?” He directed the last part at Finnick, who nodded fervently. 

Annie smiled demurely at him, and Arnold waved them away. “Right, off you go,” before walking past them to continue his patrol. 

Annie skipped off in the opposite direction; Finnick following silently behind her. Once there was enough distance between Arnold and the two of them, Finnick threw his arms around her. 

“Thank you so much,” he exclaimed. He smelt like lemons. “You were amazing!” 

Annie didn’t really know how to react to the hug, so she patted him on the head like you might a dog. She disengaged herself from his arms. “No problem. It wasn’t anything special.” 

“No, it was.” Finnick’s smile was brighter than the full moon in the sky. “You’re amazing, Annie Cresta.” 

“Okay,” she answered, rather shyly. She’d never been called amazing before; she’d never been ‘amazing’ at anything before. “I’ll  … uh  … see you around?” 

“Well, yeah, of course,” Finnick said nonchalantly, as if the Village kids often ran into those from the main part of the district. “I’m one of Mags’ charges, remember?” he winked. 

Annie rolled her eyes, “Whatever. Bye.” 

She walked back up the rocky path to her house, not looking back. But, even as she snuck back in through her window and tucked herself in bed, she found she wasn’t annoyed about the disruption to her evening. It had been nice to talk to someone new; someone who thought she was amazing all because she could sweet-talk a Peacekeeper. 

Almost like having a friend. 

Annie smiled herself to sleep that night.

Chapter Text

“You can do better than that, Odair!”

“Oh bugger off, Max, will you?” Finnick barely even looked up from where he’d been pounding into the dummy, gloved fists clenched. Sweat sheened from his forehead, and his academy tank top was sticking to his skin. He pulled the navy blue fabric up to his face to wipe it, moving it away eventually to glare at his friend.

“Someone’s gotta knock you down a peg or two.” Max grinned, handing him a cup of water.

Finnick peeled off the gloves, throwing them down onto the pile at the front of the boxing room. There were a few other lads their age - eleven and twelve - hanging around, most of them slacking off because the trainer had gone on his break. Finnick had been one of the only ones to continue practicing, determined to show his worth so he could move up the ranks.

He’d joined the academy a few years ago now, as soon as he’d reached the appropriate age. One of the advantages to having your child in the academy was that you received a monthly stipend for their ‘sacrifice.’ Finnick came from a large family, and a hurricane when he was eight had crippled the waters, meaning that many went hungry that winter. His mom hadn’t even had to ask whether he minded - he’d offered. Any way to help out his family.

“I can’t help being the best,” Finnick quipped back. There was little lie in his brag - he was easily one of the best in his class, and he’d already received offers of being moved up to the next age bracket. The academy tended to keep ages together, except when there were outliers that were clearly excelling more than others, which was Finnick’s case.

“Watch it, there’s not enough room for your ego in here. You’ll take up all the oxygen.” Max pretended to clutch at his chest, and Finnick shoved him playfully.

The bell for lunch went then, resulting in a cheer of celebration from all the boys in the room. Another great thing about the academy was that it guaranteed three full meals - all within the realms of the training diet, of course - for the trainees. It was one less mouth for Finnick’s mom to feed, at the end of the day, and she could use the money he earned her to feed his siblings more.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Max grabbed Finnick’s arm so he didn’t lose him in the surge of kids towards the dining hall.

Every trainee ate at the same time, regardless of age, so the hall was enormous - benches packed back-to-back with long tables spanning from one end to the other. To maintain order, all food was plated up prior to the trainees being called in. This made sure that everyone had an equal portion, too, with all meals selected to provide the right amount of calories and nutrients needed for growing (and training) children.

Mealtimes were usually incredibly chaotic, conversations punctured with laughter often rising in volume as this was one of the only times that the trainees were allowed to let loose. They had break times, of course, but the regime was gruelling for a reason - you had to be on your best game at all times if you wanted to stand any chance at being the one picked for the arena.

As a result, whenever the Games were on, they often played in the background of mealtimes, displayed across a screen at the back. Of course, even though many paid attention if anything particularly exciting happened, most of the kids favoured eating over watching the projector. If there was anything of importance, it would only be rehashed in class, and Finnick knew that he personally didn’t feel the need to focus when it was only playing as a form of background noise.

It was currently Games season, and there had been a bit of a scandal this year. Usually, the academy picked out their boy and girl tribute months before the Reaping so that they had enough time to prepare. Last week, however, the chosen female trainee hadn’t called out, “I volunteer!” when she was supposed to. Whether it had been cowardice or a brief moment of weakness, Finnick didn’t know, but all he knew was that - for the first time in years - someone had technically been Reaped from District Four.

No one had been particularly concerned, though. Because, as luck would have it, the selected name had been none other than Nixie Cresta - the oldest daughter of famed Victor, Hadley. Mr Cresta often came to the training academy to run sessions on his particular skills with spears. Finnick had yet to be trained underneath him but he had watched the 37th Games for Presentation class, where they learnt how to play the Capitol audience to their best advantage.

Hadley had obviously been the trainer’s focus in that class, due to him being the Victor from that year. And there had naturally been some form of pride and admiration rippling through the class of twelve year olds because Hadley was one of their own. Their teacher had even informed them that she’d trained alongside him when he’d been a boy - he had been one of the first Careers, since Mags started the academy, to actually win his Games.

So, when Nixie’s name had been called last week, there had been a slight murmur of recognition. The Victor Village kids were kept very separate from the rest of the district, both distance and class wise. Finnick’s brother had once said that they all had their heads up their arses, but he was rather inclined to believe that Dylan only held that opinion because he’d been rejected by one of Sky Maelstrom’s girls last year.

Most of the district hadn’t been too worried because there had been a volunteer lined up this year, as there always was. But, even after Cassiopeia - Four’s escort - had cooed over Hadley’s daughter, asked her name, and then called out for volunteers, there had been silence. You could’ve heard a hairpin drop. Finnick had watched the colour drain from Nixie’s face but, rather like everyone around him, had presumed that a Victor’s child still stood as good a chance as any Career.

Nixie had been doing pretty well, thus far. Despite never having set foot in the academy, she’d accumulated a high score, garnered a lot of support due to playing the Dad card, and secured a spot in the Careers pack. She’d acquired a spear, and one of Finnick’s tutors had already pointed out how her expertise was similar to her father’s, proving the district people’s theories about Victors training their kids separately true.

“Jeez, look at that,” Percy, the boy sitting next to Finnick and Max, suddenly whistled out, whacking his friend, Levi, on the arm.

Though he wasn’t the one being addressed, Finnick turned his attention from his mashed potatoes to the screen, where a lot of people’s eyes had drifted to. A slight hush fell over the chattering room as someone dashed over to turn the volume up.

Spencer, District Four’s tribute and the academy’s chosen volunteer, was currently rolling around in the wet mud that the arena had this year. Blood splat through the air, mingling with the thick mud, as Two’s boy - Magnus - swung a mace around, eyes bugging out of his head. A smaller screen of Caesar Flickerman in his studio appeared, with him exclaiming at the violence of the attack, and how the allies were turning on each other.

All of a sudden, there were hurried footsteps and then the squelching sound of a spear penetrating a body. Magnus’ jaw dropped with pain but he was determined to go down fighting, if his mace colliding with the side of Spencer’s head was anything to go by. But Nixie Cresta was in the battle now, and she somehow managed to wrestle Magnus off her district partner, tugging her spear out of Magnus’ body and driving it back in again until the boy was sliding down into the mud, maimed and bleeding.

“Run! Run!” Nixie urged Spencer, who was clutching at his bleeding head. There was a dent where his left ear was supposed to be, no doubt carved out by the whack of the mace, and Finnick felt slightly sick. He averted his eyes as Four’s tributes began to run away from the slowly dying Magnus, and the noise in the lunch hall soon started up again.

“I don’t know why she didn’t just put him out of his misery. That’s got to be a painful death,” Davinia, to Finnick’s right, said.

“She was trying to get her ally out of there, dummy,” Max countered.

“Still, he’s not gonna last long, is he?” Percy grimaced, chewing absentmindedly on a piece of boiled carrot.

“It’s only a minor head injury, he should be fine,” Kenzie argued.

“A minor head injury?!” Davinia exclaimed. “Magnus took his ear clean off!”

“‘Scuse me,” Finnick mumbled to his friends, pushing himself up from the table. He was fairly sure they didn’t even notice, too caught up in their heated discussion about the Games. It wasn’t that Finnick was squeamish or anything - he wouldn’t stand a chance at the academy if that was the case - but there had been something about that particular battle that had resonated deeply with him.

Maybe it was because he’d often seen Spencer at the academy, popping into the younger classes to give them some coaching because he was one of the strongest eighteen year olds. Perhaps knowing the boy - if only from a distance - made watching him writhe away from a mace a little more difficult. In the past years, Finnick had never felt like this but maybe, because he was now Reaping age and Nixie’s predicament had proven that the volunteer system wasn’t always fool-proof, reality had sharpened.

What if it was him next year? His name on the slip of paper that Cassiopeia swept from the bowl? What if the chosen volunteer didn’t speak up, and Finnick was thrown into an arena with half the amount of training as other Career districts? He was good, he knew that. But it wasn’t until now that he truly started wondering whether he was good enough. Would he be prepared enough to go into the arena at a moment’s notice?

Finnick headed for the water fountain in the corridor, tossing his bottle from hand to hand as he mused, nibbling his bottom lip anxiously. He was so caught up in his thoughts, eyes scanning blurrily over the tiled linoleum, that he didn’t even see someone approaching until their bodies collided, and his bottle clattered to the floor.

“Oi, watch it!” He cried out, bending down to scoop his bottle up, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry!” The voice responding was female, and rather thick as if its owner had a cold of some description.

“‘S’ alright,” Finnick mumbled, swiping for his bottle but the girl beat him to it, their fingers clashing against each other and then instantly bouncing away, as if they’d both been burnt. Finnick chuckled, reaching for the bottle again, but the girl actually grabbed it this time, her grip firm and her brown eyes determined.

Standing to his feet with a brush of his trousers, Finnick observed the girl in front of him, who started to talk in a very affected manner that suggested she was above his class. “You really ought to look where you’re going, though,” she was scolding him, but Finnick couldn’t take her seriously because there was something oh-so-familiar about those auburn locks framing her face …

The lightbulb illuminated in Finnick’s head as some double doors swung open behind them, a staff member hurrying through them. The draught from the sudden movement made the girl’s hair blow into her face a little and, as she reached a hand up to brush it out of her eyes, a blurry night on the beach from a few years ago swam into Finnick’s mind.

“Annie Cresta!” He blurted out, accidentally interrupting her as she was nattering on about giving his water bottle back to him.

Annie blinked, taken aback. Her chubby cheeks had sharpened into cheekbones now, though she still had a decent amount of baby fat. Her brown eyes were still as warm, though the sparkle that Finnick remembered had dulled slightly. She was taller now, but still significantly smaller than him, and she was actually wearing shoes this time around.

“Have you only just clocked who I am?” A small smile played at the corner of her mouth, a singular eyebrow arched.

“Yes, sorry,” Finnick said hastily, grabbing his water bottle from her. “I mean, it has been years. I’m usually quite good with names and faces, but I don’t think I’ve seen you since that night, and you’ve changed quite a bit. How’ve you been? How’re things?” He rocked on his heels, wondering why she made him feel awkward now. It hadn’t been like that last time - her personality had dominated his by miles, though that might’ve been down to the fact that she’d had the upper hand in the sticky situation he’d found himself in.

“Not too great, unsurprisingly,” Annie responded, her tone chilling slightly. Finnick wondered whether she was offended that he hadn’t remembered her instantly - in his defence, she had been much younger the last time they’d met. And he hadn’t expected her, of all the people, to be roaming around the halls of the Careers academy.

“Huh? Why not?” Finnick’s forehead creased.

Annie looked at him as if he was stupid and, as she began to open her mouth, the pieces clicked in his head, and he instantly felt foolish.

Before he could take back his words, though, she was already putting him in his place. “My sister got Reaped, so forgive me if my life isn’t sunshines and rainbows right now.”

Finnick lowered his eyes, abashed, “I realised. Too late, I know,” he added, at the look on her face. “Is it all doom and gloom, though? I mean, she stands a whopping good chance! I was surprised, honestly, because she’s not a Career, but wouldn’t it be great if there were two Cresta Victors? Bragging rights and all that.” He nudged her.

Annie blinked. “It would be more preferable if my sister wasn’t in the arena at all. My daddy knew that we, as children of a Victor, would most likely be targeted, but the threat wasn’t enough to convince my mom. Now his worst nightmare has come true, and here I am.” She gestured with jazz hands.

Finnick grimaced. “Your mom caved, then?”

This time, it was Annie whose eyes became more interested in the floor. “She didn’t really have a choice. I’ve never heard my parents argue that viciously in my life. I had to cover Tobias’ ears. My father stormed to the Capitol the next day.”

“Oh, really?” Finnick couldn’t help himself - he was intrigued. “Is he mentoring?”

Everyone knew that Mags and Kai, the winner of the 40th Games, were the chosen mentors for District Four, mainly because they were the ones best equipped to do it.

Annie’s face darkened, “He wishes. I doubt he’ll be able to, due to the personal connection. And he trusts Mags, but I bet he’ll be hovering over her shoulder the entire time. Which will be new for her - he usually leaves them to it in the Capitol - but expected, I guess.”

Finnick couldn’t help but be fascinated at the casual way in which she discussed venturing to the Capitol, as if it was just a normal part of daily life. To Finnick, the Capitol was this incredible glowing place that he wanted to visit one day because it just seemed so perfect. They had everything, and Finnick knew that some people despised them for it, but the Capitol was simply just a source of envy and admiration for him at the moment.

Annie, however, didn’t seem to think much of it, which spoke volumes about their different upbringings. Finnick was tempted to ask her if she’d ever visited the Capitol, due to her father’s ties, but he reckoned that it would be insensitive to pester her with questions when she was clearly worried sick for her sister. Finnick may have only been twelve, but he had two sisters - one older, one younger - so his emotional intelligence was somewhat better than his peers.

“I had better get going,” Annie said, when the bell signalling the end of lunch went. Finnick jolted out of his thoughts, startled to realise that he’d wasted all of his lunch break talking to Annie Cresta.

“Time flies,” he mumbled, darting over to the water fountain to fill his bottle as the inevitable surge of trainees started to flood the hallways. “How are you finding the acad—“ He turned around, mid sentence, to continue talking to Annie about how she was settling in, but throngs of people had invaded the corridors now.

But Annie was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Text

“What do you think?” 

“Oh, yes, very smart,” Annie murmured, without even looking up from the manual she was poring over. It was her reading for her hand-to-hand combat class, and she was currently rather invested in a paragraph about how to successfully throw someone’s weight off you without the use of hands. 

“Annie!” came the whine of her nine year old brother and, with a whoosh, the textbook went flying off her bed and onto the floor. “You’re not even looking at me!” 

“Tobes, I was reading that!” Annie scowled, pushing herself up from where she’d been lying on her stomach. Tobias only responded by kicking the book, which was now splayed out like a starfish, across the carpet. Annie watched it skid and thump against her wardrobe, almost in resignation, for a moment and then she turned her irritable concentration to Tobias. 

“It’s boring,” he insisted, with a sassy eye roll that had Annie missing the cute child he used to be, when he thought the world of her and Nixie. “Keep your eyes on me. What do you think of this suit?” Tobias turned this way and that, preening slightly in a cream blazer and trousers, red tie askew. 

“You’re vain and a pain in the ass,” Annie informed him, arms crossed. But then, she sighed and acquiesced, “You look very dapper, Tobes. Just let me fix your tie.” 

Tobias bounded over with all the excitement of a puppy, and Annie felt the familiar clench of her heart that she got whenever her brother seemed particularly grown up. Nixie had often got emotional over him getting older, due to him creeping closer to Reaping age, and Annie couldn’t help but share the sentiment now that she had stood in that Reaping square for two years now. 

Of course, her father had taken every precaution possible when Nixie was Reaped, and Annie had been thrown into the academy quicker than she could blink. Hadley had given them training himself before then, but it had been Nixie’s name on a slip of paper, and an absence of a volunteer, that had finally convinced his wife. Tobias had started at the academy the second he turned eight, too, so - in the event that either of them were Reaped - they would be at an advantage to what Nixie had been.  

“Perfect.” Annie fixed it into place, tapping the knot. 

“Do you think Finnick will think so?” Tobias asked, a hopeful look on his face. 

Annie barely concealed her amusement. “I’m sure he will,” she informed her brother, knowing full well that the recently crowned Victor would not be interested in some kid. 

Finnick Odair had won the 65th Hunger Games last week, making him the youngest Victor in history, and District Four’s newest addition to the Village. He’d got home from the Capitol late last night - Annie knew this because the Odair family had moved into the house next door - and he was expected to be at the Victors’ traditional welcome party in approximately twenty minutes. 

The tradition, started by Mags - as with anything - to commemorate Celeste’s victory, was a barbecue on the Victor’s Shore with all of the previous Victors and their families. The Victors in Four were all a community, simply because they only ever had each other to rely on; because only they could understand the length of what they’d all gone through. And so, every time the Career system was successful, Mags insisted that the new Victor had to be welcomed. 

Annie was rather excited, to be honest. The only one of these famed parties that she’d ever been to had been Bailey’s, back when she was seven. She’d heard stories, of course, about everyone staying up until the early hours of the morning, and how an ocean of alcohol was always consumed. She’d always loved her neighbours, and was looking forward to spending some more time with them. 

The Cresta family had kept themselves to themselves for a while after Nixie died, two years ago now. Annie’s dad had blamed himself, but had also harboured resentment towards Mags and Kai, so it had been a little awkward to be around him whenever he crossed paths with them. He’d drunken himself into stupors, adopted terrible moods, and had been, overall, a mess that the rest of them had had to try and keep together whilst grieving Nixie themselves. 

It had been a hard time for Annie’s family, and they weren’t out of the woods yet. Hadley was still an alcoholic, and his relationship with Annie’s mom had only grown more strained after they’d lost their daughter. Annie had had to step up to help with raising Tobias - ushering him out of the house whenever the arguments hit the roof, whipping him around town for his errands, and taking both of them to “school” (the academy) in the morning. 

As a result, Annie had immersed herself in training. All of her life, she’d been isolated in the Village and she hadn’t even minded - she’d had her siblings, and all the other Victors’ children. But, now that Nixie was gone and the fear of her or Tobias being Reaped was more prominent, Annie saw no other alternative than to try and become the best Career possible. 

Through attending the academy, she’d gained more friends her age, and was amazed at how less lonely she felt now that she was “one of them.” Of course, they all knew that Annie had been raised with a silver spoon in her mouth, but many of them didn’t even mind because they admired Hadley. She didn’t tell them about his drunken temper tantrums, only choosing to tell tales of her daddy when he’d been the light in her life; the one she looked up to, as well. 

“Are you kids ready?” 

Their mother appeared at Annie’s bedroom door, tired eyes outlined in sparkling makeup for the first time in years. Annie didn’t begrudge her mom, though Hadley definitely blamed her for Nixie’s death. Iris Cresta had just been a mother trying to do what was best for her children - she hadn’t wanted them to become trained killers - and it had just so happened to backfire. 

Nixie shouldn’t have gone into the arena. That was never supposed to happen. It had been an unfortunate, tragic deck of cards dealt, with the odds not in her favour, and Annie didn’t see the need in playing the Blame Game. Weren’t there enough games for them to be playing in this world? Shouldn't Nixie's death have shown them that life was short, and shouldn’t be wasted on arguments? 

“Just one second.” Annie gave her mom a smile, ushering Tobias towards her. 

Iris reached out a hand to her son, who took it with an uncertainty that probably broke his mother’s heart. She’d tried her best to be there for them in the past two years but, with her own grief to deal with on top of her suddenly deteriorating husband, she’d lost a lot of her maternal touch. Nixie’s death had hardened her, and Annie didn’t begrudge her. 

Nixie’s death had hardened her, too. 

It had changed their lives forever. Hell, there had been a moment where Annie had been convinced that they wouldn’t even be attending Finnick’s welcome party. Hadley had raged about not wanting to see Mags or the pity looks from the other Victors, but Iris had snapped at him so viciously that he’d been taken aback enough to don a suit. 

Once her mother and Tobias vacated her doorway, Annie scrambled in one of the drawers of her embroidered jewellery box. She pulled out a thin silver chain which had a charm carved in the shape of a wave - the crest, to be exact - dangling from it. She’d received knowledge of it during one of the only conversations she’d managed to snatch with Mags in the direct aftermath of Nixie’s death. Hadley had often turned them away - it was a miracle he’d even let the woman attend her funeral, but Mags wielded a lot of power over the Victors of District Four. 

Consequently, Mags had managed to sneak her a folded letter from Nixie, which had sucked the breath from Annie at the time. 

“She wrote it when we were in the Capitol,” Mags had said, a sorrowful look on her face. “I think she knew she wasn’t coming home.” 

It had been what could only be described as the final will and testament of Nixie Cresta. Now, Nixie had only been fifteen so she hadn’t been well-versed in writing wills, but she’d managed to get her point across clearly enough. She’d left various belongings to Annie and Tobias, as well as certain items to their parents. Nixie had also said her goodbyes in that letter; goodbyes that Hadley still refused to read. 

Annie’s eyes lingered on the drawer of her desk, where the letter was tucked away safely, but she didn’t feel like crying today. She just thought that Nixie might quite like to attend one of the parties they only ever had vague memories of - Bailey had won the 59th Games when they were both young (Tobias had only been three). Not to mention, if Annie wore her sister’s necklace, she’d probably feel a little more comforted, like Nixie was still here. 

“ANNIE!” The bellow of her father made her jump, the clasp of the necklace getting caught in her hair. 

“I’m coming!” She called back, giving the necklace a little tug to make sure it was still safely on her neck, despite a lock of her auburn hair being stuck in it. 

A few minutes later found them walking down to the Victor’s Shore in relative silence. Tobias was skipping alongside Annie, jumping up onto walls to balance atop them - something that achingly reminded her of her own childish innocence. Her mom and dad, as had been especially more common since the 63rd Hunger Games, weren’t even looking at one another, and Iris nibbled at her lip to the point that she’d basically worn away her lipstick. 

The beach was decked out with bunting, streamers springing from palm trees, and baskets with balloons sat on the corners of an informal dance floor. A couple of barbecues sat in the middle of a circle of tables that were dotted around, confetti scattered atop them. They were clearly late, as the other Victors were already milling around with their respective families and partners. 

Annie tried to pretend that she didn’t notice the slight lull in chatter as the Cresta family arrived. She hadn’t seen so many of these people in the social sense for ages - Kai, Celeste and Oscar were all regular guest trainers at the academy and they’d often stopped to check up on her in the past two years. Jade’s wife, Hestia, sometimes walked their dog at the same time that Annie left the house with Tobias in the morning, and she always stopped to chat. 

But, aside from the occasional hello, Annie hadn’t seen her neighbours properly since Nixie’s funeral, and she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed them until now. Just one look at Mags’ smile, still sorrowful and cautious but aimed lovingly at her, made Annie push aside what might make her father mad, and she rushed into the old woman’s arms. 

Mags still smelled exactly the way she remembered - all musky perfume and burnt incense from a banned religion that dated back to the Dark Days. And, as her arms closed around Annie automatically, she realised that she hadn’t been hugged by someone other than Tobias in two years. Annie felt the tears prick at her eyes and, judging by Mags’ fumble for her handkerchief, it hadn’t escaped her notice. 

“Stop hogging all my Mags time,” came a familiar voice from behind her, and Annie pulled away, accepting the offer of the hankie gratefully. 

“She’s not just yours, Odair,” Annie shot back, though she was secretly relieved to see Finnick standing in one piece in front of her, still every inch the cheeky chappie that he’d been when they’d first met. 

He looked older than fourteen, that was for sure, and she couldn’t quite look at him yet without remembering the sadistic grin on his face whilst murdering all of those kids. But, then again, she was surrounded by killers - she’d grown up around them, and she was training to be one. Who was she to judge? 

“That’s where you’re incorrect, Cresta,” Finnick said, and she noted that he’d reverted back to speaking with those warm flecks in his tone. 

When he’d been in the Capitol, Annie had noticed that his voice had taken on an almost icy, artificial sound. However, upon bringing it up to her mother, Iris hadn’t been able to hear any differently, so she’d thought she was just going crazy. 

Annie and Finnick hadn’t really been friends in the past years, per say, but they’d definitely been friendly. Due to them being in different age groups at the academy and Finnick moving up the ranks swiftly, Annie had never been in the same class as him. However, whenever she’d seen him around in the hallways, he’d always spared a warm smile or a funny remark for her. Which, especially in the dark years following Nixie’s death, had been more than appreciated. 

They’d had enough interactions over the years for Annie to be shaken when he’d volunteered. Finnick had been thrown into the deep end at the last second - Taro, the chosen eighteen year old, had broken his leg during training. Now, the idea of the volunteering system was to ensure a victory for District Four so it had been decided that Taro couldn’t go into the arena. However, then, that had left the academy without a strong male candidate to volunteer. 

Annie didn’t know the logistics of what went down - all she knew was that, in the days leading up to the Reaping in July, there had been whispers about Finnick Odair being selected. She’d dismissed them as silly rumours because why on earth would the academy send a fourteen year old in? She knew that Finnick was somewhat of a child prodigy, but she hadn’t believed what people were saying. And so, she’d been floored when Finnick had, indeed, parted the crowds. 

Annie hadn’t expected him to survive. 

She wasn’t sure whether her opinion had been an underestimation of Finnick, or a trauma response from seeing her older sister die on national television. Either way, she had been wracked with nerves every time he entered danger - simply because she was a compassionate person, and she knew him. Perhaps not very well, though, mind, because she really hadn’t thought he’d make it out alive. 

And yet, here he was. 

“I’m never incorrect,” Annie retorted, recovering now from her emotional reunion with Mags.

A quick glimpse around the beach told her that her father was sulking in a corner, but that her mom was chatting away to Celeste and Tobias was running around with Sky’s youngest girl, Alara, and Jonah’s grandson, Sheldon, as if no time had passed at all. 

“Except now,” Finnick commented blithely as he moved in to hug Mags. 

Over his shoulder, a clan of similar looking people - whom Annie presumed to be his family - were being introduced to everyone by Kai. Finnick, however, was still looking at Annie with his arms held wide.

“Well, aren’t you pleased to see me?” 

For a moment, Annie was mortified at the thought of hugging him, in the same way that she’d been awkward when he’d done so when they’d first met. Her family had never been overly affectionate, though she’d never been completely touch deprived until grief had rocked their household. By the looks of the Odairs greeting everyone, though, they were definitely a Huggy Family, and Annie had to remember that Finnick had just been through a harrowing ordeal. 

As the daughter of a Victor and the sister of a fallen tribute, Annie saw both sides of the Games. 

She saw them as the glory-fuelled victory that they could be; the way a Victor’s family could reap the benefits of their sacrifice. Now that she was a Career, she wouldn’t mind going into the arena because she knew that she was capable, and much more prepared than Nixie. Then again, she’d also seen the repercussions of the Games - the gory violence, the death, and the way her father still had flashbacks. 

It was strange to look at Finnick, a boy just a year older than her, and remember that he was a Victor, just like all of her older neighbours. It was weird trying to align the Finnick she’d been acquainted with to the killing machine she’d seen in the arena. But, at the end of the day, he’d killed so that he could be home. He’d killed so that he could continue to live another day. If he hadn’t killed anyone, he wouldn’t be here, teasing Annie. 

The hug that she bestowed upon him was probably stronger than Finnick had anticipated but, after a stunned beat, his arms wrapped around her just as tightly. 

“I am pleased,” Annie said honestly, stepping back and smiling. “I’m really glad you made it out of there,” she told him. 

Finnick swallowed, an array of emotions flashing through his eyes. “Me too, Annie.” The grin that took over his face then was, although shaky, no less genuine than the brilliant smile he’d given her at eight. “And hey, now we get to be neighbours!” 

Annie sighed dramatically. “Now, that part I’m not too pleased about.” 

Finnick only smirked. “Whyever not?” 

“Because you’ll probably be incredibly loud and annoying,” Annie responded, meaning every word. 

Finnick had been a noisy and popular presence at the academy, mainly due to the fact that he was supremely talented in every area of training. He’d made a splash with the Capitol, too, and Annie - like many others - had been gobsmacked when the parachute dropped with proof of just how much the sponsors loved him. 

“Oh, please, you’ll love it. Everyone loves me. Especially the Capitol. I’m a favourite there, you know.” Finnick preened, with all the cockiness of a recently crowned Victor. 

Annie frowned. “You’re insufferable,” she retorted. 

Finnick had always been cheeky and egotistical, but there was a different level to his arrogance now; a sure confidence that came from being a Capitol darling. Years ago, Annie wouldn’t have even blinked at Finnick’s charming smile - she would’ve thought that yeah, Victors are supposed to love the Capitol, that’s what they’re supposed to do. 

But now, after seeing the ghosts of her father’s trauma emerge after Nixie’s death, with the very Capitol he’d always praised turning into a subject of cursing, Annie had changed her mind. She knew that winning the Games was a glorious accomplishment so it wasn’t like she blamed Finnick for basking in their praise. She just couldn’t fathom how he could be happy about being loved by the Capitol, when all they did was take from people. 

Annie had thought the warmth in Finnick’s voice had been a sign that he was just pretending in the Capitol. However, now that she was looking at the shine in his eyes at the thought of Capitolites adoring him, she realised that the Finnick she’d seen on TV was just who he was now. 

The Finnick she’d met on the beach years ago was never coming back. 

Finnick frowned at her words. His pretty little head probably wasn’t used to insults after being showered with so many compliments; after being congratulated by hands stained with blood. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t be like that—-“ 

Annie stalked away, cold disappointment curdling her insides. She didn’t know why she was allowing Finnick’s behaviour to affect her so much - she should’ve expected for him to change after what he’d been through. Annie guessed she’d just anticipated a little more of a sour taste for the Capitol in his words, not the same revered gushing that trainees often spouted. 

She knew that she had different ideals to her fellow Careers, due to her upbringing. Annie saw the devastation that the Games left in their wake, not just the glory. 

Look at her dad for example. Hadley had always drilled into his children that the Capitol was the reason why they had such nice things growing up; why they never had to want for anything. But then the Capitol had taken away Nixie, and something inside Hadley had broken, never to be complete again. 

Overnight, the Capitol had turned from something to be grateful towards to the subject of all hatred. And Annie could see where her father was coming from - she just couldn’t believe that she hadn’t been able to see the corrupt system for what it was until it was her sister that was being Reaped. 

Until it was Nixie who was coming back from the Capitol not as a Victor, but in a coffin. 

Honestly, now that she really thought about it, Finnick had been the first one to make her think about the world outside of her Victor’s Village bubble. He’d broken into (quite literally) her life, and made her wonder about how the other half lived; about whether her own perspective and judgement of reality was clouded. 

Annie guessed that was why she was so disappointed that Finnick seemed to love that the Capitol loved him, now. It showed that he hadn’t been opening her eyes to what was real all along. 

He’d just been another harbour brat blinded by the glamours of Victory, only to come out the other end of the Games with an ego bigger than his smile. They’d swapped roles - he was now the one who didn’t see anything wrong with the Capitol because they’d given him everything he wanted. 

And Annie was the one who could only see the damage that the Capitol left behind. 

The party swept her up, helping her forget about her strange conversation with Finnick. She danced with the other Victors’ kids, starting to feel a little more like herself but still not being able to rid the feeling of emptiness; the feeling that something - someone was missing. Annie played with her necklace as she talked, and ate, and laughed, and she tried to imagine Nixie beside her as the hours crept on, and the sun went down. 

Her sister’s face blurred before her. Had her hair had the same dark undertones to the red locks as Annie’s did? Memories weren’t doing her justice. Nixie’s nose had been smaller than she remembered, surely, because her smatter of freckles had covered the bridge of it. She’d had a musical laugh that twinkled in the air like bells, but Annie couldn’t recall the exact shade of her eyes. 

It’s fine, she tried to tell herself to quell that rising storm of panic inside of her. I’m just over-exerted from the party. My brain is too busy right now to remember exact details. But her gut churned with the confetti of her sliced heart, and Annie’s breathing didn’t stop quickening. Not even when she reached for her necklace to comfort herself. 

Because the necklace wasn’t there. 

Instantly, Annie fell off the brink into hyperventilation. Maybe it was the overwhelming amount of emotions she’d endured today. Maybe it was the disconcertion she’d felt upon speaking to Finnick. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t quite remember Nixie as much as she wanted to, and now the one thing that her sister had left her had disappeared—

Either way, Annie panicked. 

She shook out her dress, turning this way and that to see whether it had just slipped down the back of her frock when she’d been dancing. It definitely wasn’t there. She traced her steps, kicking up sand, and frantically moving aside people’s belongings in case the necklace had got buried. She paced back and forth, hands running through her hair, as she asked people whether they’d seen a thin silver chain with a wave charm on it. 

“Haven’t seen it, mi querida,” Mags replied, when Annie all but grabbed her arm to question, tugging her away from a conversation with Jonah, her first Victor. “Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine,” Annie said distractedly, already marching off to another side of the beach. She practically chomped her lip into bleeding rags, fingernails digging crescent moons into her palms, and she tried her best not to cry in front of all these people. 

“Annie! I found a piece of sea glass, look! ” Tobias came surging up to her, face alight with a childish joy that Annie was fairly certain she hadn’t felt in years. 

“That’s lovely, Tobes, but I’m a bit busy right now.” She barely even spared the shiny sea glass a glance, eyes roving over the table in front of her because she’d talked to Kai here earlier, so maybe it was—

“You didn’t even look,” came Tobias’ typically petulant response.

Usually, this would’ve made Annie’s heart drop, and she’d shower him with the attention she knew he was lacking, now that their parents were struggling to wade through grief. But right now, Annie didn’t have her necklace to cling onto, and she had to find her anchor in order to stay rooted in her own sea of loss. 

“I don’t have time, Tobias!” Annie snapped, shoving him away. 

It was only a little push - tame for what siblings usually inflicted on each other - but Tobias must’ve been unsteady on his feet because he landed right on his bottom. It took only a split second for him to start wailing and, the moment he did, Annie broke down, too. 

“Shut up!” She forced out through frustrated tears, scooping up sand in vain, and feeling her heart shatter even more. Not only was she a failure at looking after her brother, but she couldn’t even keep the one thing her sister had left her. Annie simply couldn’t do anything right. 

“What’s going on?” A familiar voice came from behind her once more, which was just bloody typical as she was right on the brink of a mental breakdown. 

“Go away, Odair,” Annie forced out through gritted teeth, wiping her tears. 

She reached an arm out to Tobias, who sullenly moved away from her whilst continuing to weep. It was so clearly a bid for attention, and Annie didn’t have the heart to tell him that neither of their parents would come running. They were too numb, and she was afraid that she was going the same way when she was all Tobias had. 

“No need to be so harsh.” Finnick sounded surprised. Almost wounded, really, though Annie was fairly sure the tone was just another one of his acting skills. 

“I was just checking up on the two crying Crestas in the corner.” He was clearly pleased with his word play, and Annie wanted to punch him. 

“We’re fine. Tobes is just overreacting,” Annie said, though she knew that wasn’t fair, and she definitely deserved the glare that her brother sent her. 

“You pushed me!” He whined, tears miraculously drying up once Finnick had arrived. 

Annie thought back to how Tobias had been eager to impress Finnick, and once again refrained herself from bursting his bubble with the truth that the new Victor definitely wouldn’t care about him. 

“I told you I was busy! Give me the sodding sea glass.” She held her hand out and, after a long moment of glowering, Tobias dropped it into her palm. Something inside of Annie’s anxious storm calmed for a fragment as she looked down at the sea glass, and the exact shade of Nixie’s eyes was reflected back at her. 

Relief eclipsed her. “That’s gorgeous, Tobias,” she said sincerely. 

“I know. Thank you,” Tobias sniffed, snatching the sea glass back up and stuffing it into the pocket of his shorts. 

He staggered back to his feet, nodded awkwardly at Finnick, and sauntered off as if his mission had been completed. 

“Dramatic little shit,” Annie murmured fondly, watching him go. 

She was still very aware that Finnick was still hovering, after watching her shout in tears at her little brother, and she felt very vulnerable. Crossing her arms, she turned to him. “He’ll be alright. You can go now.” 

Finnick held his hands up, brown still furrowed with concern. “Will you be alright?”

For a second, Annie saw a glimpse of the old Finnick. But then she remembered his plastic smile in the Capitol, and how he’d bragged about being loved there, as if he didn’t know the Capitol was the reason why Annie was now Tobias’ only sister. 

She scoffed. “I’m busy, Odair.” 

“Woah, there’s no need to be so hostile.” Finnick seemed confused. “I don’t know what’s got into you, Annie, but I thought we were friends. I’m just trying to help.” 

“I don’t need your help,” Annie sniped back at him, already starting to storm off. She’d wandered onto this part of the beach with Jade’s daughter earlier, so maybe Nixie’s necklace had got lost in the tide pools. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Finnick was following her now, shouting slightly to be heard over the distant music thumping and the squawk of the gulls. 

Annie only laughed sardonically. “It’s funny that you can’t even see how much you’ve already changed. I dread to think how even more arrogant you’ll be after years in the Capitol. But, if my dad’s any example, it’ll all come crashing down on you sooner or later. You’ll see, Odair, that the Capitol’s not to be trusted.” 

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Finnick said, a note of warning in his voice which immediately pissed Annie off. 

She didn’t need his self-righteous words - she may not be a Victor like him, but she’d grown up in this world. She knew what winning the Games could do to you, even if the aftershocks only came decades later. 

“Why not? Because you’re so in love with the Capitol now? What happened to the little boy who looked to me to get him out of a sticky situation with a Peacekeeper? Are you too smart for me now? Will it hurt you if I shout ‘Fuck the Capitol’ at the top of my lungs?” Annie argued passionately, spinning around to face him. 

Finnick’s face was pale. “Annie, stop it,” he urged, eyes darting around as if he thought the ocean had ears. “I’m sorry that you think I’ve changed. I haven’t, I promise. I’m still the same Finnick, but you need to be careful with what you say—-“

“Fuck off, Finnick,” Annie replied. “Unlike you, the Capitol has taken from me. And I can’t find the one thing that I’ve got left of Nixie, so forgive me if I’m being a little irrational.”

“Let me help you,” Finnick suggested. “We’ll find it quicker with the two of us.”

Annie’s brain teetered indecisively, before ultimately coming to the conclusion that he was right. And it would be easier to find if two of them were on the task. 

“You better prove yourself, Mr Victor.”

“I won’t let you down,” Finnick answered solemnly. 

Annie rolled her eyes, not really thinking that to be true. She ransacked the tidepools, checked under all the tables, and asked everyone she passed whether they’d seen her wave necklace. Mags stopped her at one point to inquire after her wellbeing, and pity shone from her eyes when Annie mentioned it was Nixie’s necklace. 

She hated being pitied. 

After Nixie had died, that’s all she’d been treated with. Pity, pity, pity. 

“Annie!”

She looked up from where she’d settled on a rock overlooking the ocean, despair crippling her bones. It had been over an hour now, and she’d basically given up. But, lo and behold, Finnick was running towards her with what looked like—

“My necklace,” she breathed out, jumping to her feet. 

Finnick slowed to a stop, panting. “I found it by the boats. Looks like one of the kids was playing with—oh, hi.”

Annie had wrapped her arms tightly around him, squeezing so tightly that he could’ve burst if not for the newly gained muscle he’d acquired over years of training and the arena. Finnick tensed up for a second, but soon relaxed into the hug with a fond chuckle. 

“I told you I’d find it. You shouldn’t have given up so easily. In the arena—”

“I know.” Annie pulled away, his words a stark reminder of how he’d changed. “It’s always about the Games with you, isn’t it?”

Hurt eclipsed Finnick’s expression. “That’s not true.”

“It is, though.” Annie gave him a small smile. “And I don’t blame you. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Please don’t do that,” Finnick suddenly murmured. 

“Do what?” Annie clasped the necklace back on, panicked heart finally slowing down. 

“Treat me like I’m different because I’ve ki—” Finnick swallowed loudly. “Because I won.” 

“Well, you are.” Annie shrugged. She’d never been the dishonest type. “Different, that is.” 

“Annie, you don’t understand how the arena changes—” Finnick’s jaw was set. 

“Don’t I?” She countered, eyes flashing. “I’ve grown up in the shadow of a Victor and, two years ago, I buried my sister. I think I’ve seen firsthand how the Games affect people, and not just the tributes involved.”

“But you haven’t been there.” Finnick’s voice shook. 

“Well, maybe I will be someday.”

He flinched. “Please don’t talk like that.”

“Talk like what? Like it’s not a likely possibility that I’ll be Reaped, just like Nixie? That I should probably just go ahead and volunteer because they’re probably going to rig it to pick me anyway? Well, if they’re gonna shove me in there, I’m going to at least give them a fight.”

Finnick seemed worlds away. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself in for. You should just quit while you’re ahead.”

“What, and let them slaughter me at the Cornucopia? I think my father would die of embarrassment.” Annie snorted, starting to walk away. “Thank you for finding Nixie’s necklace.”

“Annie—” He reached for her, but she’d already slipped away.

Chapter Text

The last time that Finnick had been this nervous, he’d been in the arena. 

And that was saying something. It had been five years since then: five years of unwanted hands grasping at him in places that didn’t belong to them; five years of watching his peers from the Academy rise through the ranks, and return to District Four in coffins; five years of feeling completely helpless and weak in a world where he was supposed to be one of the strongest. 

He paced back and forth in the Mentor’s Lounge, biting at his nails so hard that his stylist, Jaz, was bound to scold him. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, where one of the most dramatic scenes in the 70th Hunger Games was taking place. 

The Career pack had turned on each other, and it wasn’t pretty. 

Amara, District One’s girl, had just gone down in a gurgle of blood as Max, Four’s male, threw a knife directly to her heart when he’d caught her trying to slit Annie’s throat as she slept. That moment alone had been terrifying enough for Finnick, and he’d never been more thankful for his old mate from the academy. 

Max had been one of his only friends from his past that hadn’t eventually grown distant from him after his Games. He’d certainly been colder, as he probably didn’t understand all of the love that Finnick spewed on television about the Capitol, nor the countless ladies he pranced around with. But he’d understand, soon, if he won. 

Finnick didn’t want him to, though. 

Because that would mean that Annie would die, and he just couldn’t quite imagine a world without Annie Cresta. 

They’d become close friends ever since he moved to the Victor’s Village, and she’d been one of the reasons he didn’t walk straight into the ocean after returning from the Capitol. Her smile lit up every room she walked into, and Finnick could honestly say she was one of the only people that he felt relaxed, and not judged, around. 

Which was why it had killed him to watch her saunter up to that stage, taking the place of a terrified fourteen year old. 

Maybe the Games had corrupted Finnick’s morals, but he would’ve rather that Annie had never raised her hand to volunteer; that the girl he didn’t know had just gone into the arena instead. That was cruel of him, he knew, but there had been no stopping of his heartbeat hammering away in his chest when Cassiopeia had made Annie and Max shake hands onstage to excited applause. 

She hadn’t even been picked as a volunteer. Mags wouldn’t have dared, not after Hadley Cresta all but estranged himself from her in the wake of Nixie’s death. Davinia Cove had been selected alongside Max Rigby but, when the time had come, Finnick had watched as she trembled like a leaf, holding onto her friend’s arm to prevent herself from fainting. 

He didn’t blame her. The arena was hell, and he wished that he’d had second thoughts before blurting out, “I volunteer!” like a fool. But he would blame her if Annie was killed in this arena, and Finnick lost his only true friend; the only light in the darkness of the past five years. 

Finnick couldn’t conceal a gasp flying from his lips when One and Two’s boys, Winx and Chase, pelted after Max and Annie, who had both legged it after Amara’s cannon went. 

Trixie, Two’s girl, was kneeling at Amara’s head, shaking as she gently eased her friend’s axe from her limp fingers. 

Finnick’s heart ached. He knew how that felt. Reina Murphy had been like an older sister to him. She had completely taken him under her wing, despite the disappointment she had to have felt upon losing the partner she’d trained with, right at the last minute. 

The camera changed pace to the race of Annie and Max sprinting through the desert terrain, leaping over boulders and kicking up sand in their wake. Caesar Flickerman appeared in the corner of the screen, excitement lighting up his face at the rivalry that had surfaced between the strongest allies in the Games. With the exception of Theresa from Eleven, and Bryce from Seven, the Careers were the only tributes left. 

“C’mon, Annie,” Finnick whispered urgently, now gripping the back of Mags’ chair from where she was facing the monitors, Kai beside her. 

“Anyone would think you liked the girl,” Haymitch slurred from behind him. 

His boy had been slaughtered in the Cornucopia by the recently deceased Amara. His girl had got further than any Twelve tribute in years, but had eventually died of dehydration in the incredibly hot arena. Ever since, he’d been lurking around the Capitol - probably for the quality booze. 

Finnick shifted, feeling a flush crawl up his neck. “Just District pride, y’know? We haven’t had a Victor in five years.”

The second that Haymitch arched his brow, Finnick realised that he’d said the wrong thing. 

“Imagine how I feel, kid.” He patted him roughly on the shoulder, and sauntered back to Chaff, who was currently using his sponsor money to send Theresa some water. 

“I think we’ve lost them,” Max panted out on screen, red-faced and sweating. 

“Probably best to hide, though. We’ve put a target on our backs now,” Annie grimaced, swigging from her water bottle and passing it over to Max. 

“They started it,” Max glowered, gulping down water. 

Finnick glanced at their vitals on Kai’s screen, and saw that they both were in need of food. “Do they have food on them?” 

He’d been with a client all morning and, even though she’d had the Games on in the background, he hadn’t been able to focus whilst playing the part she’d wanted from him. By the time she’d finally let him go, and he’d practically burnt his skin off in the shower to rid it of her fingertips, he’d missed a lot of what had happened today in the arena. He was just relieved he hadn’t returned to a butchered Annie. 

“Yes, don’t worry.” Kai waved him off–he was the expert at this, after all. He hadn’t been Finnick’s mentor in his Games, as Mags had wanted him due to his young age, but he’d still been a massive help. District Four were a team, Mags always said. 

“Thank you for saving my life,” Annie said quietly, now munching on some malted bread; a Four staple. She looked tired and nearly as young as the girl that Finnick had first met on the beach, but was still harrowingly beautiful. 

This acknowledgment made Finnick start a little, in his mind. He’d never looked at Annie in that way before. He had acknowledged that she was attractive, and it had made him feel sick when he’d seen Capitolites also fawning over her looks, but his gaze had never lingered on her like it was now. He averted his eyes instantly, uncomfortable at the thought of ogling her like he knew much of the sponsors already would be. 

“Of course. We’re in this together.” Max tore some cheese apart in his sandied hands, eating it slowly in the way that they’d been trained. 

In Preservation classes, they’d had to analyse a video from the 30th Games, where Four’s girl had died whilst eating, and write down everything she should’ve done differently. Eat slowly, even if your stomach is growling for more. Swallow carefully. Break bigger bits of food up so you don’t choke. Never eat directly after combat or exercise. 

“I know I’m not who you wanted,” Annie said, cooling herself down with the fan that a sponsor had sent down yesterday, after the Career girls had been complaining about the heat. Finnick was glad to see that she’d ended up with it. 

“Hey, I think we work well together.” Max nudged her playfully. “Dav is a bit squeamish, so she definitely would’ve cried by now.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t,” Annie answered ruefully, voice wavering. Finnick longed to reach through the screen and hug her. 

“Oh, shit.”

Finnick ripped his gaze away from Annie to follow the source of the cursing, which so happened to be Cashmere as her monitor kicked into action. It didn’t take long before what she was seeing filtered onto the main screen, and Four’s monitors. 

Winx, Chase and Trixie from the Career pack had snuck up onto Annie and Max, unawares, and were hiding behind the boulder not far from them. Finnick’s heart crawled into his throat. 

“Move,” he urged. “Do something!” He turned to Mags and Kai, who were staring hopelessly at their screens. 

“There’s nothing we can do, darling,” Mags said, wretched.

In the end, it was Annie who noticed them, and she managed to yank herself off the ground before Chase could pounce on her. She instantly whipped out her spear, and began to battle with him, metal clanking against metal. Her and Max went back-to-back, but the latter was being attacked by both Trixie and Winx. 

Trixie launched herself between Annie and Max, throwing him to the floor. Winx clambered on top of him, clawing at his face and punching every inch as Trixie swept with her axe, narrowly missing his ear. Annie was a storm unleashed as she shoved Chase back onto the boulder, his head making a sickening noise as it collided with the rock. He slumped there, dazed, with a bloody temple, as Annie went for the other two. 

Mags reached up to grip onto Finnick’s hand. Though she’d seen her fair share of Games, watching these sorts of scenes never got easier. Winx had managed to slice at Max’s side, and he was now bleeding profusely onto the sand, but somehow managed to throw One’s tribute off him. As Winx staggered, Annie speared him as effortlessly as Finnick’s dad used to with the harbour fish.

He dropped to the ground like his strings had been cut, and Trixie let out an outraged yell as she went for Annie now instead. She surged forward with her axe, but Max grabbed her ankle from where he was struggling on the ground, and toppled her so that she ended up falling into Chase, who was in the process of clambering back to his feet. Winx’s cannon blew, and Annie and Max took the brief opportunity to take off running in the opposite direction. 

The second they were away from the other tributes, Kai sent a medical kit down to Max, who was struggling to run with his abdomen wound. Finnick had had an abdomen hit in his own Games, and luckily knew that you could survive for up to twenty-four hours with one, as long as no vital organs were struck. But Max was pale and clearly in a lot of pain, so their running slowed. 

“Annie, go,” he breathed out, hands coated in slimy blood.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” she retorted, slinging his arm around her shoulders to help him out. They started lightly jogging together, but Trixie and Chase were hot on their heels. 

“Faster,” Finnick agonised, heart hammering. He felt like he was in there with them, which he’d never had with any of the other tributes. 

“You do like her, don’t you?” Gloss was suddenly at his shoulder, now both his tributes were out. He and Cashmere, though relatively arrogant, were like older siblings to Finnick. They weren’t the only ones by far, but they were certainly nearly equally as popular with clients as he was. 

“She’s my friend,” Finnick dismissed. He didn’t have the time to discuss his complicated feelings for Annie Cresta, when there was a possibility that there might not be an Annie Cresta in a second. 

“Leave me, Annie,” Max rasped out, pushing her away from him. 

“No.”

“You’re a fool!” He shouted at her. Chase yanked him up by the arms, but Annie didn’t let Trixie’s axe get to him, deflecting it with her own spear. It was a good move but, unluckily, the axe landed closer to Trixie than Annie, so it only delayed the inevitable, which seemed to happen in slow motion. 

Finnick’s vision blurred as Trixie slashed her axe through the air once more, directly into Max’s neck. He staggered from the impact, and Chase threw him to the ground, foot to his chest, as Trixie swung again, and again, and again, and again until she'd lopped Max’s head clean from his shoulders. 

The head – because Finnick refused to believe it was his friend’s - rolled down the hill, and Annie screamed. Trixie seemed shocked by her own brutality, and her stillness by Max’s severed body gave Annie the chance to run after the head. Chase threw his sword through the air after her, but Annie was still screaming bloody murder. Finnick couldn’t breathe. 

She picked up the head, sobbing, and held it to her chest. Blood poured over her cream trousers but she didn’t seem to care, tears pouring down her cheeks. 

“Run,” Mags whispered hoarsely. She’d buried her head in Kai’s shoulder when Trixie had swung, and had only now taken her eyes away. Kai sent a parachute down, hands trembling, but Annie didn’t move from where she was rocking back and forth, Max’s decapitated head clutched to her chest.

It felt like hours had passed before Annie moved. Caesar was chatting away in the corner of the screen about the gory action, but Finnick’s ears were ringing. All he could think about was Max’s boyish smile on his first day at the academy; Max’s kindness after his Games; Max’s promise before the arena to Finnick that he was going to stand by Annie; Max’s head being chopped off his shoulders. 

Sweet Panem, he had brothers. Wayne and Hudson would’ve watched their strong big brother be deduced to nothing but a head rolling down a hill. 

“You okay, Finn?” Sky Maelstrom was suddenly behind him, clearly coming to tap Kai out because watching your tribute be decapitated on-screen called for a strong drink. 

“Fine,” Finnick said, not taking his eyes off Annie. She’d gone silent now, Max’s head still in her lap, and she was staring off into the distance. He’d never seen her eyes look so empty. “We were friends.”

“I know,” Sky said roughly, sliding into Kai’s chair and giving the mentor a brotherly squeeze of the shoulder. “That was a brutal one. How’s Annie doing?”

“Terribly,” Mags spoke for the first time in a while. She’d been crying quietly, Finnick was pretty sure. “She needs to move, though. Two are coming.” She pointed at Lyme and Brutus’ monitor, which showed a bloodied Trixie and bruised Chase walking in Annie’s direction. 

Luckily, though her eyes were off in a different world, Annie’s survival instincts were still top notch. The mere rustle of a bush jumped her out of whatever daze she’d fallen into, and she dropped Max’s head with a horrified yelp. As soon as she made the noise, the footsteps in the distance increased, and she started crawling away, keeping low and behind the boulders. 

Trixie and Chase hurried into the space where Max’s head was, just as Annie disappeared into the bare bushes. There wasn’t any foliage to hide behind but Annie was like a whippet on the ground, scampering along like a frightened animal. She was trembling, dried blood and tears on her face, but she didn’t forgo her speed. 

“I think we’ve lost her,” Chase stated the obvious, after Trixie had scanned their surroundings. 

She scowled, kicking Max’s head away from her like a ball. Finnick felt queasy, and even her mentor, Lyme, exclaimed in disgust alongside the other Victors watching. “No shit. We’ll get her eventually. Let’s find the brat from Eleven next.”

Hours passed, and Finnick took Mags’ place so that she could get some rest. As darkness fell, Annie had made her way to a cave at the top of the arena, which was designed like a huge desert-like valley. She collected water from a flowing dam, numb in her movements, and barricaded herself in the cave with some rocks that had eroded from the mini earthquakes they had been administering throughout the game. 

The next two days were the exact same. Finnick had to keep leaving for appointments but, even when he was with clients, the Games were obviously at the forefront of everyone’s minds and centre of their conversation topics. Annie had been a popular winner but now, after two days of rocking back and forth in a cave, she’d become dead weight. 

“She’s crazy,” Serpentina Thunder cackled to her friends at a party as further footage of Annie clawing at the cave walls until her nails bled was shown. There hadn’t been much action apart from Theresa wounding Chase in a battle, so Caesar had started doing impressions of Annie, playing clown music over the top of clips whilst jokingly saying blood-curdling comments like, "Don't lose your head, Ann!" to audience cackles.

It made Finnick’s blood boil. None of these people knew what it was like, to be in the arena, and lose your mind. But he did. He remembered telling Annie that she couldn’t understand how the arena changed you but, now, watching her lose her mind, he wished she hadn’t had to understand. 

“Absolutely insane.” Plum Jupiter handed a glass of champagne to Finnick. 

“As if you’d be any better,” he snapped, pushing the glass away. 

Plum blinked at him from under long purple eyelashes. “Sorry, Finny. I forgot that she’s from your District. Do you know her well?”

Shit. Finnick had to be careful here, lest the wrong thing get back to Snow, or his clients. “Not really,” he feigned boredom, now taking the glass from Plum. “I’m a bit sick of her embarrassing District Four, to be honest. Don’t you wish that something else would happen?”

Sorry, Annie.

“I was just thinking that!” Tarquin Ursula dove in. “These last two days have been so dull.”

Finnick didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop being internally horrified at how desensitised the Capitolites were to death. Externally, though, he bore his perfect teeth in a grin. “I just want another win for District Four. And, the only way I’d be able to get that is if the Gamemakers play to Annie’s strengths.”

“What, scratching at cave walls?” Esmerelda Yah sniggered. 

Finnick joined in with the laughter, disgust crawling in his gut. “Could be funny, but no. Remember what District Four is famous for?”

“You.” Tarquin squoze his arse playfully. Finnick had long since learnt not to flinch. 

“Water, silly,” Serpentina corrected him, before turning her loving gaze to Finnick. “And you, of course, Finny.”

“You flatter me.” He kissed her gloved hand, and she swooned. “But you’re the real genius here. Who would’ve thought of using water in the arena?”

“Well , you didn’t hear this from me—” Plum interjected, a glint in their eye. “--but Fozia heard from Celia who heard from Armani, who’s a junior Gamemaker this year, that they were planning on bringing down the dam if the tributes from Four got to the finale.”

Finnick felt something akin to hope blossom in his chest. “And they’re not anymore…?”

“Apparently, it’s not worth it,” Plum clucked. “Because of Annie’s current state.”

“But she’d win, if they did that. Don’t you see?” Finnick was trying to contain his excitement. 

“I’d love that,” Esmerelda said. “I betted that she’d win, you know. I don’t want to give all that money to Orlando. If I’d known it was going to end up this way, I would’ve just bought a day with Cashmere instead.”

“What if your money didn’t go to waste, though?” Finnick countered, turning his gaze to Plum, who seemed deep in thought. 

“That would be interesting. I sponsored Annie, too, because of you, Finny. I’d love a trip to District Four again,” Plum hummed. “I might speak to Armani. See how easily she can be swayed.” 

The next day, Finnick had just left Armani Qasar’s apartment when he heard excited chatter about an earthquake shaking the grounds of the arena. Unable to believe that Armani’s promise had kicked into action that quickly, he sprinted through the crowds to the Mentor’s Lounge and burst through the door just as all the remaining tribute screens were filled with water rushing down from the dam, and into the valley below. 

“I don’t believe it.” Kai had his hands clasped behind his head, standing in place. The rest of Four’s Victors were gathered around their monitor, and Bailey gave Finnick an unreadable look as he caught his breath, tucking his shirt in. 

“What did you do?” She murmured, tongue in cheek. 

“Nothing,” Finnick panted out honestly. 

“Let me rephrase. Who did you do?” Her eyes roved over him. 

“No one that will snitch,” Finnick responded. Which was true - he didn’t sleep with anyone without naming his price in secrets. It would be suicidal to Armani’s career to rat his involvement out.

He craned his neck to see around Oscar what was happening to Annie. He was hoping that the disaster would snap her into survival mode. If she drowned due to insanity, District Four would never live it down. And he’d never forgive himself.

To his utmost relief, Annie had the appearance of someone who had woken up from a long sleep. The water rushed towards her, ripping up boulders and sand into a roaring monster that would swallow anyone whole if they didn’t know how to swim. At the mouth of a cave that was crumbling from the pressure, Annie had no choice but to be caught up in the current. She latched onto a boulder, and allowed herself to be carried along down into the valley. 

Seven’s boy, Bryce, who had been playing a stealthy game of hide-and-seek all along, was ripped out of his hideout and slammed into a cactus. He pulled it off him, blood rippling in the rushing flood, and started frantically moving his arms. But it was clear that he didn’t know how to swim, based on the way he tried to tread water on the spot, and instead just kept getting mouthfuls of murky water. 

Theresa had also attempted to hold onto a boulder but, unlike Annie, wasn’t kicking her legs to keep control over the pace. She was flung off the boulder by the pressure, into a prickly bush, and her head instantly went under. She came up with several gasps but her muscles did her no good, and a cannon struck after the seventh time she disappeared beneath the surface. 

Chase had received armour from Brutus, so stood no chance against the water. But Trixie seemed to have some skill in swimming, and kept dragging him up every time he swallowed mouthfuls of water. However, when a boulder came flying towards them, Trixie was able to dive under the water out of the way of the collision, but Chase wasn’t so lucky. There was a sickening crunch as he got flattened against a wall, and his cannon sounded. 

“Three left!” Caesar exclaimed from the corner of the screen. “Who’s it gonna be? Seven, Four or One?”

“C’mon, Annie,” Sky mumbled. “Show them what you can do.”

It hadn’t escaped Finnick’s notice that all the Victors - bar Annie’s father - had now surrounded the monitor, clearly rooting not only for their District but for the girl they’d seen grow up. Especially after they lost Nixie, he could only assume that they would be devastated if Annie came home in a coffin, too. 

The girl in question seemed calm and content in comparison to the others, who were fighting against the current. Bryce was lagging, swallowing more water than swimming, and Trixie’s stamina hadn’t held fast with her quick strokes. She’d taken to swimming with her axe but, from a glance at Lyme’s monitor, her vitals showed that she’d taken a hit to the leg from some debris, and was losing blood rapidly. 

Considering the water was still crashing up against the walls of the valley, Annie was swimming fairly slowly. She would move quickly out of the way of obstructions but, whilst covering distance, her strokes were regulated and her breathing controlled. The only concern was that she had barely touched the food and water parachutes that Kai and Mags had been sending down over the past few days so, if this dragged out any longer, her body might start to shut down. 

“Fuck,” Blight smacked his screen when it went black, a cannon sounding as Bryce finally went under, and didn’t resurface. 

“They’re close to each other now,” Kai pointed out. 

Trixie and Annie were in fact drawing near to one another, and Finnick’s heart raced so furiously in his chest that he feared it might burst from his ribcage. Annie didn’t have a weapon. Trixie did. Annie was a strong swimmer. Trixie was losing energy. 

“This could go either way,” Jonah commented grimly. 

The second that Trixie spotted Annie, she started swimming towards her with a desperate gleam in her eye. She must’ve counted the cannons, and worked out that it was just between her and Annie. Finnick knew that feeling all too well - so close to victory that you could taste it. 

“She’s swimming against the current,” Mags said, something like hope in her tone. 

Trixie was, indeed, fighting against water rushing towards her, and it was clear that she was running out of breath. Her head went under, and her raspy breath as she surfaced alerted Annie to her presence. She was instantly on her guard, but seemed to find it interesting that Trixie was struggling so much to swim, as it was second nature to all in District Four. 

“Help me! Please!” Trixie begged, her axe slashing through the water. 

Annie only kept treading water, blinking dazedly at the other tribute. “Just swim,” she said blankly, probably not realising the ignorance of her statement. 

Haymitch and Chaff hooted with laughter from the back of the room. Brutus shushed them vehemently. Jade and Celeste also exchanged amused glances at Annie’s words, and Finnick had to disguise a snort behind his hand. 

Trixie was sputtering now, breaths rattling out of her as she tried to maintain grip on her axe. Finnick could tell that she was trying to weigh up whether it was worth throwing an axe at Annie, who was still calmly swimming through the water without a struggle. 

“Don’t do it, you stupid girl.” Lyme had her head in her hands. 

But Trixie had no way of hearing her mentor’s advice. She threw the axe in the air, her aim wobbly due to her struggle in the water, and Annie simply ducked under the surface. The axe plonked underneath, right where Annie’s head had just been, and the entire Mentor’s Lounge seemed to hold their breath as Trixie looked around, waiting for Annie to float back up. 

“Where is she?” Seeder questioned frantically, but Four’s Victors only exchanged knowing looks. 

“Have I won?” Trixie coughed out, craning her neck upwards to stay above the water. “Get me ou—-” her shout was cut off into a gurgle as she hurtled downwards, shooting underneath the surface at unprecedented speed. 

There was a long beat of silence. And, then, a cannon sounded. 

Annie Cresta rose out of the water, sweeping wet hair out of her eyes as she started laughing with a cold, shaken horror that every Victor in the Mentor’s Lounge could relate to. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” came Claudius Templesmith’s stunned voice. “I present to you…the 70th winner of the Hunger Games - Annie Cresta!” 

The studio audience erupted into cheers, and Mags didn’t even hesitate before getting out of her seat. A ladder had fallen from the sky of the arena, but Annie was starfished on her back, letting the water carry her along. The ladder followed, nudging at her head, but she didn’t even acknowledge it. Trumpets were blaring, and the screens went black as a Games medic, no doubt, scrambled down the ladder to fetch her. 

“Holy shit!” Bailey hugged Oscar tightly. Jade was crying silently in Kai’s arms, eclipsed with relief. Sky offered a hand to Finnick, from where he had sunk to the ground as every emotion he’d felt over the course of Annie’s arena crashed over him.

“Follow Mags. I think she’s gonna need you,” Sky told him. 

Finnick didn’t have to be told twice. 

He pelted his way through the hallways of the Tribute Centre, only skidding to a screeching halt once he reached the doors of the infirmary. Mags was already there, hugging a sobbing Hadley, who had clearly been watching all along but hadn’t elected to join everyone else. Each to their own, and all that. 

“She’s just being checked over, and then we’ll be able to see her,” Mags explained over Hadley’s shoulder. She was rubbing his back like he was a kid all over again, not a man over fifty. 

“Is she okay?” Finnick questioned frantically. 

“Time will tell.” Mags smiled sadly. 

Half an hour later, a Capitol doctor came out with scratches on his face. “Ms Flanagan, Mr Cresta. Mr…Odair?” He seemed confused at Finnick’s presence, but carried on regardless. “Only one of you may go in. Miss Cresta is very confused, and prone to violent attacks.”

“Well, of course she is,” Finnick said, at the same time that Mags went:

“Mr Odair will go.”

He turned to her, jaw gaping. “Huh? Why not you?”

“Because she might react badly to my presence. You, however, have nothing to do with her Games,” Mags answered solemnly. 

Finnick could tell that she was itching to burst in there and hug Annie but, if she wasn’t in a good state, he could also see why that wouldn’t necessarily be the best idea. 

“Okay,” he gulped. 

“Come with me,” the doctor said, leading him down several corridors and through a few double doors. Finnick was hit with a wave of deja vu from his own recovery period. “She’s woozy from the drugs we knocked her out with, at the moment.”

“You knocked her out?” Finnick felt a bolt of rage shoot through his body. 

“She left us no choice.” The doctor gestured to the scratches on his face. Finnick was tempted to tell him to get over it, and that he’d like to see him experience a Hunger Games arena firsthand, but decided to bite his tongue. 

Annie was in a similar private ward to the one he’d been placed in, five years ago, except that she was actually bound to the bed. Finnick fought the anger bubbling at his core and smiled politely at the doctors, before dismissing them with his usual charm. 

“Mr Odair, are you sure?”

“Miss Cresta is rather violent….”

“I’ll be just peachy.” Finnick waved them off, and they didn’t argue further - clearly relieved to get away from the girl they were treating like a caged animal. 

The second they were gone, Finnick undid the bounds. They hadn’t been very tight, but the fact that they’d even been there in the first place was enough to make his blood boil. Annie started awake at the movement, eyes wide open as she gasped breath into her lungs. She bolted upwards, kicking her legs, but the duvet was tight around her, and this only seemed to panic her further. 

“Annie! Annie!”

She thrashed in the bed, breathing shallowly as if she felt like she was still drowning. Fuck, where was Mags when you needed her? Finnick wasn’t equipped for this. Why had she sent him in over her?

“Annie, it’s me. Finnick. Finnick Odair. Look. You’re not there anymore, Annie. You’re out of the arena. You survived,” he rambled, trying to get her to look at him. 

Annie simply kicked her legs in response and, though he knew it was probably a risk, Finnick reached over to rid her of the tight duvet which had definitely been tucked in as another restraint attempt. The second that she was free of the duvet, Annie dove from the bed, and Finnick caught her before she could hit the hard linoleum. 

He held her tightly in his arms as she fought him, trying to scratch his arms, but her hands were covered in thick gloves. Her hair was wild, eyes roving over the room as if she wanted nothing more than to escape, and her breaths were coming in quicker and rougher by the minute. Finnick had never felt more helpless, yet was endlessly determined to get through to her. 

Annie was underneath, somewhere. She was just lost. It was up to him to find her. 

“Annie, you won,” he said thickly, voice gruff with emotion. This wasn’t the time to discuss whether ‘winning’ the Games was actually a victory. “You’re out. You’re safe. I’m Finnick. I understand what you’re feeling right now, and it’s okay. I just need you to breathe for me, alright?” 

Annie’s panicked eyes finally found his face, and she stopped trying to hit him. Her chest still rose up and down furiously, but she settled slightly. 

“Who…?” She rasped out.

“Who am I?” Finnick asked, heart aching. “I’m Finnick. Finnick Odair. I’m your friend.”

“Finnick,” Annie repeated hoarsely. “I’m Finnick Odair.”

Finnick laughed, despite himself. “No, you’re Annie Cresta. Can you say that for me? Annie Cresta.”

“Annie Cresta,” she repeated, face contorting as if she was speaking a foreign tongue. “You’re Finnick Odair. And I am a murderer.” 

She started pulling at her hair, as if she was trying to tug the very memories from her brain. Finnick completely understood, but he needed her to stop. 

“No, no, stop. Annie, stop. You’re not a murderer. You’re Annie. Just Annie. You’re a survivor—”

“Killerkillerkillerkillerkiller—”

“You’re Annie. Just Annie. Annie Cresta. Stop it, please. Don’t hurt yourself. Hurt me! Hurt me instead. Just please don’t hurt yourself—” Finnick grappled with her, taking her hands from her own head and placing them on his. She pulled on his hair obligingly and he accepted the sting because at least she wasn’t hurting herself. 

“Murderermurderermurderer—headsrollingheadsrolling—Nixie—blood—somuchblood–Ikilledher—I’mdrowning—helpme— HELPME!” She screamed the last part, and the doors burst open to reveal Mags and several doctors, who rushed to force Annie off where she was hitting Finnick on the head. 

“No, don’t! Don’t hurt her!” He tried to shove a doctor off her, but she was already jabbing a syringe into Annie’s arm, as another doctor forced her back onto the bed. Mags rushed to Finnick’s side, cradling him in her arms, as he tried to get to Annie. 

But she’d already slumped into an unconscious state, bound once again to the bed. 

Even in sleep, she twitched.

The Annie he’d met on the beach years ago was never coming back. 

Finnick didn’t stop crying in Mags’ arms for what felt like hours.