Work Text:
Annie Cresta had never killed anyone before. She wasn’t sure she could, and she certainly didn’t know how. But she was one more missed training session away from killing her mentor.
“Up.” She ordered, flinging the door open and turning on the lights with a flourish.
Finnick Odair groaned. He was face-down in bed, the covers only covering the lower half of his body, and she could see the strong muscles in his back twitch as he raised his head. “Five more minutes,” he grumbled.
“No, Finnick,” Annie said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “We don’t have that kind of time. In a half hour, I’ve got to be down for training.”
“Ah, well, we’ll meet tomorrow then,” he said sleepily.
“Tomorrow, I’ve got to show my skills to the gamemakers. I don’t even know what I’m going to do for that!” Annie cried, throwing her arms up. “I asked Antonius. Do you know what he said?”
“Did he say you could complain to them? ‘Cause honestly, sweetheart, I think you would do a really–”
“He said to ask my mentor,” Annie said, and her voice was venomous.
At first, she had been relieved to have the famous Finnick Odair assigned as her mentor. He was the youngest ever to win the Hunger Games, and he was still popular with the Capitol, capable of raking in lots of sponsors. Annie had assumed that he would have ample tips and tricks, ample suggestions and advice to help her get through the Games. Instead, he had spent their entire time in the Capitol ‘catching up with old friends’. He was gone every night and hungover every morning. Sometimes, he wasn’t even there in the morning, but wandered into their hotel sometime after lunch wearing nothing but a towel and a smirk.
Finnick was silent, his face pressed into the pillow. “Please, Finnick.” Annie felt her voice break slightly. “I need you.”
She was scared. She was going to go into the arena in three days and had no idea what she was going to do. She knew her odds of survival were slim. She knew she probably wouldn’t walk out of that arena alive. But she didn’t want to go in completely blind, and she certainly didn’t want to spend her last few days alive arguing with the intolerable Finnick Odair.
Finnick sighed heavily and pushed himself up. He stood up from the bed, and Annie immediately turned away, feeling her face burn. Finnick yawned hugely, and then sighed again. “Alright, fine. Let’s talk.”
“Not until you put some pants on.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Finnick look down and grin.
They met at the breakfast table. Annie’s plate had roe on toast, a District 4 staple. Finnick’s was piled high with pancakes and syrup, strawberries and whipped cream. He examined her over a large cup of coffee, the blue in his eyes sharp enough to pierce her.
Annie swallowed a piece of toast, bringing a hand to her mouth to wipe her mouth clean. Finnick smirked.
“Alright,” his voice was softer than she expected, still husky from the morning, but gentle and kind. “What do you want to know?”
“How do I get out of there alive?”
He blinked and smirked at her again. “Well, you win.”
“Right, yeah, and how do I do that?”
He sighed heavily. “That’s the tricky bit, sweetheart.” He leaned back slightly, looking her up and down. “First you have to answer for yourself, do you want to win?”
“Well, I don’t want to die,” she said flatly.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I want to win.” Annie said. Which you would know, she thought bitterly, if you’d spent all of five minutes with your mentee before now…
Something flashed across Finnick’s face, something dark, but before Annie could process it, it was gone. “Alright then,” he said, adding another sugar cube to his coffee. “I would ask you why, but I don’t really care. So, instead,” he shifted in his seat, folding his arms on the table. “Why don’t you tell me what skills you have to succeed in that arena?”
Annie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He didn’t care why she did what she did? That made two of them. “I can tie knots,” she said, “and I can swim.”
“Are you good with any weapons?” Finnick asked.
“No,” Annie admitted, feeling her voice grow smaller. “But I’m a quick learner.”
“That’s great,” Finnick said, and he gave her a half smile that implied that it was anything but. “What’s your persona?”
Annie blinked. “My what?”
“Yeah, your whole… what you’re showing to the Capitol to make them want to invest in you.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “If I’m a sponsor, why should I send you anything?”
“If I’m in the arena fighting for my life, why should I need anything from you?” she snapped back.
He snorted. “Well, you might need food, for starters.” He counted on his fingers. “Fresh water. Medicine. Weapons, for you to oh-so-quickly learn to use. Blankets, if it’s cold. Sun protection, if it’s hot. Something to fight off mutts and wild animals. A–”
“Okay, I get it,” Annie said, her mind already starting to spiral. “What was yours then? You looked so on top of it.”
“Yeah, that was mine: cocky, confident, charming,” Finnick shrugged, “just make sure whatever image you present to the Capitol, you’re able to keep it up even after the games are done.”
She mulled over his words, dwelling on them, holding them close to her heart. A new pit of fear settled into her stomach. She’d been so focused on winning the games, she hadn’t considered the fight she’d have to continue if she did become Victor.
“Could you keep your image up?” she asked Finnick, her voice quiet.
He gave her a soft smile, one that did not reach his eyes.
“Is that why you’re never around?”
The smile dropped from his face. Her temper was rising now, from bubbling under the surface to boiling out of control. He had left her. He had left her alone for her first week in the Capitol, and now she was going to go into that arena and die alone.
“What, are you always getting into back alley fist fights having to prove that you’ve still got it? Is that why you come back late? Is that why you come back sometimes with blood on your face?”
“Annie, that’s enough,” he said sharply.
She swallowed, blinking back tears. She cried when she was frustrated, and she hated that about herself. For a long moment, they sat in tense silence. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I’m just… I’m just freaking out, Finnick.”
“It’s okay,” he said, and the smile he gave her was gentle but guarded. “I remember before my games, I was freaking out too.” He laughed softly. “Even though I know I looked so cool, calm, and collected.”
“And charming,” Annie added.
“Of course. Can’t forget charming.” He sent her a wink that made her ears burn red. “So you can knot?” he asked.
She nodded. “I used to help my parents out on our fishing boat.” Annie hesitated for a moment, then asked, “do you think that could be useful, in the arena?”
Finnick nodded slowly. “Could be, if you can set some traps.”
“That’s what you did, in your games,” she said earnestly. “I saw it.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Annie’s heart fluttered in her chest. For the first time, she wondered if she actually stood a chance. “Could you show me?”
Finnick hesitated, and she pushed her chair out from the table, standing up, breathless.
“The training rooms open in a few minutes. If we get there, we can–”
“Annie, I–”
“Come on,” she started walking to the door, but he didn’t follow. He stayed at the table. “Let’s go.”
Finnick shook his head. “Annie, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”
He licked his lips. “I’ve got another…” the same darkness flashed across his face, and Annie frowned as she studied it. “Another meeting with another old friend.”
“Right now ?” she demanded, her heart sinking.
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s honestly the only reason I got up when you told me to, so I could get some breakfast before I meet her downstairs.” He looked sadly at his plate of pancakes, which he had barely touched.
“Is this the same ‘old friend’ you met when we first got to the Capitol and you made me meet my stylist crew all on my own?” Annie asked, her eyes narrowing. “Or is it the same one you met during the tribute parade? Or, wait,” she snapped her fingers. “Is this the one you were with last night, when you stumbled in drunk at three in the morning knowing full well that we had scheduled a meeting for the morning?”
When he looked up at her, there was bitterness in his eyes and frustration in his voice. “What do you want from me, Annie?”
“I want you to teach me how to tie traps!” she shouted, her voice coming out louder than she had anticipated. “And I want you to teach me how to build a persona that will get me sponsors, and I want you to be there for me so I’m not all alone in the Capitol in my last few days before the games, and I want you to actually be my mentor!”
Her cheeks felt wet, and she wiped them hastily on her sleeve. The look Finnick gave her made her feel worse. It would’ve been one thing if he had looked at her with indifference, or annoyance, or hatred, but he only looked at her with pity.
She sniffled, hating herself for her tears. And then, Annie asked, her voice quiet once again, “do you even think I can win, Finnick?”
He hesitated. “You want the honest truth?”
She made a voice between a laugh and a sob. “No, I want you to lie to me,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
He gave her a small smile. His smiles never reached his eyes. “No,” He answered, looking at her with those brilliant blue eyes. “I think you’re too weak to win by skill and way too abrasive to win any sponsors.”
It was as if the floor fell out from under her, like she was riding a wave that grew too big and threw her into the sea. She hated the way her voice wobbled when she asked, “Do you even want me to win?”
This time, he looked away, and his voice was soft, and bitter, and broken. “No.”