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The squawking of the seagulls echoes across the beach, almost in tune with the waves crashing against the shore. In the distance, sails as white as clouds fluctuate in the morning sun, and a couple fishermen are trying their luck, hooks invisible under the wavering water.
Finnick lets the smell of seaweed fill his nostrils. The ocean is calling to his blood like a siren's song; he feels the sudden urge to throw himself in the water, let it clean all traces of the Capitol's perfumes and oils. They're not on his skin anymore, but it all keeps coming back to him - strong wine, flashing lights, the heavy laugh of his patron from last night ringing in his ears. Are you leaving tomorrow? Already?, he said. We should keep you in chains.
A deep breath and his eyes land on the cliffs, not too far, where he kissed Annie for the first time.
He's been away for two months, no word between them except one stolen phone call that he probably shouldn't have risked. Beetee agreed to provide a phone device, while warning him that it could still be intercepted despite precautions; so Finnick was careful. He only used it once, maintaining a neutral, polite tone of voice and willing his shortness of breath not to betray him.
"How's the weather over there, Annie?"
"Cloudy. The sky was red this morning."
"Bad sign. Don't go out sailing."
"Yeah. And there?"
"It's going to rain. For sure."
*
The sign of the Victors' Village is rusting under the blazing sun. Beach villas move in line behind Finnick, a passing splash of white; the early morning light is soft on the carefully trimmed hedges in the yards, the rows of palm trees framing the main street.
The Capitol's idea for the village must have been that of a small tropical paradise. Yet it lacks flavor, looks orderly in an unnatural way; in Finnick's eyes it's got nothing on the fishing town where he grew up, with its colorful little houses and the creaking of the cobblestones on narrow streets.
He spots Annie from afar, sitting on her porch, auburn shades glistening in her hair. Finnick can't see her face and can't quite make out what she's saying, but she sounds serene; there's a smile in her voice, and it's enough to make him feel lighter, like a burden is being lifted from his chest and his heart is free to beat again.
A dark-haired guy sits next to her on the bench. It takes Finnick a minute to recognize him - he hasn't seen him around in a while, and he's grown tall since the last time they met. His name is Kai. He's a few years younger than him; Annie's age, maybe.
Kai's father, Murphy, is also there, leaning on the porch railing. Sturdy, tanned skin, cigar in his mouth, he looks every bit like the crabber he is. He won the Games long before Finnick, yet few people in the District would remember his name. He comes from a family of fishermen; quite reclusive people, who live more on the sea than on the shore.
"Finnick!"
Something falls from Annie's hands with a thump, and Finnick realizes he has been rooted to the spot for a full minute. He tries to put his smile back in place. "Surprise."
Annie runs down the stairs, rushing into his arms. "Mags said you were coming back tomorrow!"
The happiness on her face is blinding, and Finnick can't help burying his nose in her shoulder, inhaling deeply. The smell of the ocean on her skin. The loud beating of her heart against his chest. He wants to kiss her, then remembers - there are cameras around; bugs; people looking at them.
So he takes a step back and displays a mischievous grin.
"I wasn't expecting the enthusiasm," he says, loud enough for Murphy and Kai to hear. "Did you join my fun club while I was away?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Annie replies. Her hands fall down at her sides. "It's good to see you."
"How have you been?"
"Good. I've been good."
They sound formal enough now, but Finnick still revels in the way she's staring at him - with stars in her eyes.
"Welcome back, Finnick."
Murphy's voice is like a distant echo, hoarse from the smoke.
Reluctantly, Finnick steps away from Annie to go shake his hand, and then his son's. "Murphy. Kai."
Kai carries himself with a certain confidence, a smile that goes from ear to ear and narrows his almond-shaped eyes into thin slits. "Haven't seen you in a dog's age," he says.
It's true, yet Finnick feels his face twist into a wry smirk. "You're never around either. I forgot you existed."
Only after saying that he realizes that the sentence came out harsher than intended. Kai looks a bit taken aback; so does Annie.
"We're out sailing, most of the time," Murphy intervenes. "That's our job. To each his own."
To each his own.
Finnick ruminates on those words, making an effort to temper down the defensiveness.
They don't know what he does for Snow. And people from around here are not mean like that; they're straightforward - they don't hide their nastiness behind double meanings and fake niceties. That's what Capitol people do.
Kai seems to read his mind. "How are the Capitol folks?"
"Same as always."
A polite nod, although it's clear that Kai has no idea what same as always means. He has never been out of District Four; never had to. He was trained, just like Finnick and Annie, but reached eighteen years old without seeing the Games other than through the screen of a television. He gets to stay here, sheltered by his father; to hang out with Annie while Finnick's banished for months at a time.
"So, what are you doing here?" he asks, trying to suppress the surge of bitterness in his stomach. "Thought you'd be out sailing, with this weather."
"We're repairing the nets." Kai points to the fishing nets on the floor, where Annie has left them. "Annie's been helping us."
"She's an angel, this one," Murphy agrees.
The fondness in his tone brings a shy smile to Annie's face.
Finnick knows he should be happy that she's been fine while he was away, talking to people other than Mags. He is. But he fought to come back a day earlier and surprise her, and just doesn't want these people here right now.
What do they even know about Annie? Back when she was a tribute - before her district partner's beheading, the earthquake, everything - no one really thought that she could make it. She looked too pale, too delicate; her movements light as a feather, more those of a dancer than a fighter. And now people are building the same narrative, that of a frail creature with a broken mind. An angel, this one.
She is sweet, and she is frail; there's also a strenght in her, beyond appearences, that no one really sees. It's visible even now, in the way she's looking at him - she hasn't teared her eyes away, the sea green shining like the ocean.
"You made a good call anyway. The sky was red earlier this morning," Finnick says, looking up. "Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning."
Annie holds her breath for a second, recognizing the language Finnick is speaking. They have a code, when other people can hear - sky turned red means I love you.
Murphy wrinkles his brow, the cigar bouncing between his lips. "Bad weather coming, y'think?"
"Nah," Kai replies. "It's sunny."
A secret smile curling her mouth, Annie points at something invisible beyond the copper roofs. "Finnick's right, see those clouds? It's going to rain, no doubt." I love you, too.
Finnick grins at her. "Better batten down the hatches."
Let's get out of here.
"Yes. Actually, I should go check my boat," Annie says. "Just in case."
"I'll come with you."
Kai and Murphy seem puzzled, but they don't protest.
"Yeah, you never know," Muphy mumbles, looking worriedly at the crystal blue sky.
*
"I missed you so much," Annie breathes once they're alone, in their secret spot behind the cliffs.
It's not the most comfortable of hideouts. There are pointy rocks springing up like mushrooms under the sand, and the humidity is so thick it feels like it might penetrate in their bones. Finnick can't bring himself to care - Annie's in his arms again and everything is right in the world. He kisses her smile, wishing he could bottle it up and keep it.
Annie moves her hand carefully, traces his jaw like he's made of glass.
She knows it always takes a while for him to come back to himself, once he's been away. To get used to her touch - so different from the Capitol's long nails, perflectly painted, scratching his skin and drawing blood; from its greedy hands, grabbing and taking what doesn't belong to them.
"Finnick?"
Annie's eyes are wide, searching his face.
"Yeah."
The Capitol is a fucking leash, he thinks bitterly. Whenever he moves away and feels like it's loosening a bit, it tears at his throat again, disturbing memories and images resurfacing in flashes. He will never be free - not in his body, not even in his own head.
"Stay with me," Annie whispers. "They don't belong here."
Soft, but firm; her eyes are bright as the ocean, drawing him back to the light. He nods and holds on tight to that sea green, to the warmth of her arms. "People are fighting, Annie."
"What?"
"The last Games have started something. There's been riots in the districts. Even in the Capitol, people are worried and whispering. I think... there might be a real change coming."
He keeps his tone down, not daring to say that out loud. But he's caught up in his speech, in that flicker of hope, and almost misses Annie's gaze becoming more vacant with every word. "Love?"
She's not listening anymore, lost to a world invisible to him. He shouldn't have mentioned the Games at all. He strokes her hair and murmurs sweet nothings in her ear until she blinks, trying to put reality back in focus. "Finnick?"
"Hey."
"Are you really here?"
"Yes, Annie," he says. "It's real."
Saying it out loud reassures him, too: it's real. They're together, always pulling each other from the brink; he's her anchor, just as much as she is his. Not an angel - an anchor.
He won't tell her about the small reunions he had with Beetee, Haymitch, and other Victors; about how they're keeping each other updated on the Districts' developments, and he's been collecting and sharing secrets that one day might come in handy. If he needs to keep her in the dark to keep her sane and safe, so be it. But there's hope spreading in Panem, and it's real.
She studies him. "Then why do you look sad?"
"I was just thinking..."
He blushes, wondering if he should even bring that up. "Murphy and Kai. Do you see them often?"
Annie shrugs. "Sometimes. Murphy is more of a lone wolf, but Kai comes around every now and then. He's a nice guy."
"I bet he is." A nice guy who could hold her hand in public, instead of hiding her in the shadows. One who doesn't have a dozen lovers she has to share him with. "You guys look cute together."
Her eyes narrow in disbelief. "Are you dumb?"
Finnick chuckles. "I'm just saying."
"Right," she snaps, "because you want me to say that I don't want anyone else. As if you didn't know."
"I don't want to hear anything."
"You're an idiot."
"You love me."
Annie nestles into his chest and he can't help the childish smile curling his lips, his grip on her skin tightening. She just said she doesn't want anyone else.
He kisses her forehead, the corner of her mouth; then glances at the bright blue sky. "Yeah, the sky was red as hell this morning," he repeats. "It's going to rain cats and dogs. In fact, I think there's a storm coming."
She laughs and kisses him harder.