CW: If youre stumbling across this thread, please beware of the entire thing for the following blanket CWs! Mental illness, trauma, torture, sexual assault, sexual abuse, suicide attempts, suicidal ideation and discussion, self harm, psychosis, disassociation, violence, drugging/restraint, insitutionalization, regression, other extreme states, potential death, and more topics.
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Finnick's worst nightmares have come true.
Another games. Mags is dead. Annie was captured and taken to the Capitol along with Peeta and Johanna. And there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.
One of his first suggestions was that he kill himself, so they'd lose interest in Annie. Haymitch and Plutarch told him that was a no-go, that they'd just kill Annie if he did that.
He fell into despair. When he wasn't completely disassociated and somewhere else, he was so inconsolable they had to sedate him. Death would be a better fate for the three captured than whatever they were currently enduring, and he tortured himself with thoughts of her suffering, of what creative means they might use to hurt her. At heart, Finnick is a protector; knowing someone he loves is in pain and he can't save them is his own personal hell.
He reached the end of his proverbial rope on a few occasions, trying to stab himself with the needle of his IV or bashing his head against the wall, actions of course met with restraint and heavy sedation. There is a therapist here, and he is absolutely no help. Finnick believes he's beyond help, anyway. The only resolution to his mental state is his death, Annie's death, or her return. There is no accepting this. He's deemed too unstable to even mingle with the general public of 13 or do anything productive for Coin, so he just sits alone in his windowless hospital room, tying and untying his rope all day, all night, until he can't take it anymore and either hurts himself or goes back to sleep.
Time becomes irrelevant. It is all too long without her. Every hour of every day feels impossible without knowing Annie is safe.
Finally, Katniss manages to convince Coin of a rescue mission and a pardon of the captured Victors. There's finally a light in this pitch-black cave he's in, but it only makes him feel restless and anxious. He ends up spilling all his secrets on national TV- or rather, the dirty secrets of the rich. Dirtiest of all, that of Snow. What does he have to lose? Nothing, but he has Annie to potentially gain.
If he allows himself a shadow of a hope.
While waiting for news, he and Katniss tie rope together. Tying, untying, tying, untying. If he loses focus on the rope for even a moment he thinks he might be sick. It feels like an eternity they're waiting, but who knows how long it really is.
They had come for her right after the trains left the station, taking Finnick and Mags away from her. She didn't even get to say goodbye. Now, she had to wait, and like everyone else in Panem, watch her loved ones die. But the Capitol wasn't content with that, and Annie had been taken immediately. She was too much of a risk, too close to Finnick and Mags. If she knew anything, the easiest one to break would always be the one where you could still see where the glue had dried.
They disguised it as medicine. As procedures. The torture they put her through- all to get information from her she had told them a thousand times she didn't have. Her grasp on reality was slipping, and Annie spent as much time present in those rooms as she did far, far away in her mind. The doctors, as she called them, tortured her. They extracted screams from her, and one doctor in particular seemed to take a cruel liking to her. He played the role of her friend, but he was the one who held her down in ice cold water as she thrashed and begged and kicked until she passed out.
Once, she thought it would be smart to lie to the doctors. To tell them what they wanted to know, all of it a lie. They took her word, and when that word proved false, they raped her.
The torture continued. The rape continued. Annie was hardly herself anymore. Sometimes, if she were lucky, President Snow would visit, and ask her why she couldn't just cooperate. They dislocated her shoulder when she spit at him.
At some point during all this, Peeta and Johanna joined her. She knew it was them from the sound of their screams as they echoed through the underground facility.
And one day it happened. Alarms blared throughout the faculty, waking the prisoners up. Outside their cells, soldiers ran back and fourth, scientists, doctors. Annie cowered in her cell, screaming, when the door burst open and a man burst in, and asked her if she was okay, that he was taking her to Finnick. Annie promptly responded by trying to attack her rescuer. When she came to, she was in a hovercraft, handcuffed to a gurney, Gale Hawthorne nursing a bruised jaw from her wild swing.
They were going to District 13, they told her patiently, and if she didn't stop thrashing, they'd have to sedate her again. Either with the drugs in her system, or exhaustion from the last few months, Annie obeyed, falling silent with apprehension. She was safe, they told her. She wasn't safe until she saw Finnick. Then she would be safe.
Until she saw him and touched him, none of this was happening. It was just like what he'd told her back in her cell. Until she could touch him, none of this was real.
After an absolute eternity, just when Finnick thinks he can't take it anymore and is going to flip his shit, someone passes by their door with a quick "They're here." He audibly gasps, looking at Katniss with wide eyes. His heart is in his throat as the two move into the hallway urgently, going toward the entrance they assume those rescued will come in through.
He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. What state will he find Annie in? Beaten, bruised, starved? In a coma, in the midst of psychosis? Is she an avox now, did the disfigure her? It's terrifying, but whatever it is, he'll take care of her. That's his job, no matter what. He scans around wildly for her, every flash of reddish hair on a stranger making his breath hitch.
She's beaten and bruised, surely, when they bring her in to the hospital room. Her red hair is matted, a wild mess different from the usual wild mess it was. Sea-green eyes are wide open as they have her sit up, and start checking her vitals, making sure she's alright, stripping her of the long-ruined prison clothes, giving her a sheet instead. She tries to do good. She tries to sit still and let them so they didn't hurt her, but a doctor gets too close with a needle and she's on her feet.
"No!" She screams, shoving him. She'd done something similar, when she'd been taken from the Arena, and maybe this is just like that? Some of the orderlies try to grab her, but she's small and she's fast, despite being underfed the adrenaline surges through her. She has to get out of here. She has to get out of here and find Finnick and see if he's--
"FINNICK!" She runs to him, clutching the sheet around her body as she throws herself at him. He'll protect her. He will always protect her, except when he couldn't. "Finnick!" Her arms are around him, and she buries her head into his chest, not even caring if he's not real and this is just another game created by the doctors. She needs him.
The tears come unbidden, and she holds him as tight as she can. "Real- real- real," she repeats to herself. He's real. He's solid. He's here. Nothing else matters.
He hears a scream from one of the rooms, and knows it's her. His mind races. Are they going to take her from him again, lock her up in isolation in 13 and sedate her too? He can't let that happen. He will burn this place down. He needs to get to her first. He begins to run toward the sound.
"Annie? Annie!"
And then, he sees her, he catches her, and it's a fucking miracle. He holds her like a lifeline, because she is.
"You're safe, you're safe," he whispers, both of them saying things aloud that they absolutely need to believe, but haven't fully grasped yet. She may not be okay in most senses of the word, but she's alive, she's here, she can speak, she can move. That's enough for him right now. Happy tears gather in his eyes as well, and he laughs breathlessly, pushing her hair out of her beautiful face and looking into those sea-green eyes, then kissing her firmly.
"I'm real, baby, I'm here."
RUDE. I have weird icons because I used to have a paid.
She clings on to him as hard as she can, both hands wrapped around his upper arms, feeling his strength, his warmth. He laughs and it feels like home to her, the way he looks at her, how freely he loves her.
Annie's laughing, too, high girlish giggles that have her scrunching her toes on the cold floor, even as she stands on tiptoe. She's kissing Finnick back, tears on her cheeks mingling with his.
"Finnick!" She says his name again because no matter how many times she's screamed for him she knows he's here now. She can touch him. He touches her. She never wants to let go of him.
"Finnick- you're here. You're really here. You're not--" and she grabs him again in a tight hug as a sob wracks her small frame. "Real. Real. Real." She repeats it over and over again. "Thought-- never see you again!"
She laughs, and it feels like a thousand pounds of pressure lifts off his chest. If she can laugh, he can breathe again. How he's achingly yearned to hear that sound, only having heard her screams and hysterical cries in his nightmares for the past... However long it's been. Months, probably.
"Could I do this if I wasn't real?" He picks her up by her waist and swings her around, stumbling only slightly, and laughs again.
"Ah, I missed you so much. Are you hurt?" He ducks his head a little to look into her eyes with concern. He sees that she's emaciated and bruised. She has scars that weren't there before. He suddenly hopes he hasn't hurt her in his handling of her, and softens his grip considerably. Doesn't let go; will never let go.
She tosses her head back, doesn't care that it hurts, and laughs, brightly, openly. See? Everything would be alright now. Finnick was here.
"Doesn't matter," she tells him. He'll notice the shortening of her sentences, pronouns disappearing. It's a sure sign she's regressed, that she's in the midst of a bad time mentally. He'll know she's hurt in ways she can't even start to describe, that she doesn't have words for, because words leave her when things get bad. It's been this way for a while now, the childish cadence.
"Happy you're here. Don't leave me. Ever again." She's still clinging to him, her head on his chest where she can hear his heart.
He certainly notices. Her childlike manner and limited speech reminds him of how she was after her Games, and it breaks his heart. He's deliriously happy to see her, but the knowledge of how much she must have suffered lingers like dark shadows on their periphery. He cradles her head to his chest, resting his cheek atop her head.
"Not ever. I promise." Without hesitation, he'd kill the next person who dared lay a finger on her.
Absently, he wonders where to take her. He doesn't want to cause her more distress. They need a safe place, right now.
"Do you want to come back to my room with me?" He finally has his own room here, and he'll be damned if Annie has to stay in a hospital room like he did. He'll tell the doctors anything he needs to. They already know he's crazy. Katniss could pull for him, too, if needed.
She nods, fast and shallow. "Yes," she tells him. She can't stay in the hospital. She can't be near doctors- white lab coats, gloved fingers, needles and cuffs. She doesn't like any of them here, not in the least. It's not their fault, of course, it's the Capitol's fault.
This is still the woman who'd stabbed more than one orderly with a stolen scalpel over her time there.
She's still a Victor.
That was one of the problems. They'd forgotten about her, and they'd underestimated her. Finnick never forgot her. He never underestimated him.
"Wanna stay with you," she tells him, hugging him again. he was the only one left that understood her, that wasn't quick to write her off. "Don't like doctors."
Annie is a fighter, a survivor, a Victor. She's strong, and the fact that she's still alive despite her brain and her circumstances always working against her is only further testament to that strength. However she needs to deal with this, whatever she needed to do to survive, Finnick will do his best to accept that.
He rubs her back, kisses the top of her head, and murmurs into her hair.
"You'll stay with me, then. I'll make sure the doctors give you lots of space. My bed is small, but something tells me you won't mind that, mm?" He rubs her shoulder, beginning to usher her toward his room, to somewhere more private. He hadn't even noticed that their reunion caught eyes, and he doesn't care, but he does make sure Annie is covered up.
His every touch brings her closer to home. She keeps close to him, clinging to an arm, pressing her body to his as much as they can while they walk.
"No, I like that," she agrees, sliding her hand into his. She looks down, letting her hair cover her face again, hiding her from the eyes she certainly can feel. She knows what they're thinking. The Mad Victor.
They're underestimating her, too.
She shifts. "Enough. Is it far?" She catches his eye through the waves of her red hair.
He hates the assumptions people make about her. All the Victors are mad, by definition, because no one can go through what they did and come out the other side without being fucked up mentally, morally, or both. She's picked on because of the types of issues she deals with and her inability to swallow her emotions and put on a cheap fake smile. Yet, that's exactly what he loves about her. The energy radiating from her is pure and unmasked. When she cries, it's a tidal wave, her anger a bang of lightning, and when she smiles, it's the sun. Finnick is the opposite; people can rarely tell what he's truly feeling or thinking, unless it's Annie or Mags. His smile is often cheap and fake, but those two know the difference.
He can't help but smile at her once more as he catches her eye, and it's certainly not his cheap and fake one.
"Not too far. Just lean on me, stay close."
He weaves them deftly through the halls, fighting the current of people in drab military outfits marching with purpose. Everyone is on a tight schedule here- everyone except for Finnick, anyway. All the doors and halls and rooms look the same. All of it usually looks dreadful and bleak to him, but today, the fluorescent lights seem a little warmer in hue, and some of the people seem to almost be smiling. The ones who aren't staring with apprehension, anyway. In addition to Annie's reputation, Finnick has earned some rumors here, too. It's no wonder; he's been wandering the halls listlessly in his hospital gown and slippers, endlessly tying and untying the same rope with a distant stare in his red-rimmed eyes.
But no more; now he's present and radiating with a joyful love. He counts the room numbers until he finds his. It's precisely like every other room. He unlocks the door and finally, finally, they are alone together. He sighs with utter relief and a substantial touch of exhaustion.
They were all mad, weren't they? She'd seen it, and Finnick helped her understand it. None of them came out of their Games unscathed. You couldn't go through something like that, survive something like that, and not be at least a little broken and fucked up. They all had nightmares- Mags screaming in the middle of the night, Annie waking up with a knife in her hands and blood on her arms.
None of them were okay, not even in the slightest.
She leans against Finnick, as she always has in one way or another. She was a year behind him, when they'd been in school, and she and her friends had admired him and giggled when they watched him walk by. She'd wanted to be like him, remembering how she'd sold some jewelry she'd made with sea glass to try to get enough money to help him get that trident of his.
The door unlocks, and the two of them are alone. Annie takes in the room, sterile, boring, but her eyes light up when she sees the bed. Small as it is, it's got a mattress, a blanket- she lets go of Finnick to throw herself upon the bed and bury her face in the pillows. "Bed! Blanket!" A luxury she hadn't had for some time, the blanket she'd once been given in the Capitol having been long since destroyed, covered in blood, tears, other fluids.
But she turns on the bed, and reaches a hand out for Finnick. She wants him to join her, to lay with her so they can feel safe at long last. They can't hear the ocean from where they are- it's been forever since she's heard the surf crashing against the rocks and docks. But hearing his heart, feelin the rise and fall of his chest, would suffice.
Finnick laughs softly, but it's mostly a surprised sound that peters out, falls with his realization. She didn't even have a bed? Was she strapped to a table? Chained to a wall? It's-- no, he can't think about it, it makes him sick. Right now, he needs to be strong and stable for her, despite the fact that he hasn't been that way for months.
So he forces a pleasant expression and moves to take her hand and join her on his bed. He pulls the blanket up around them, pulling her hand up to his face and kissing her dainty knuckles. His body further relaxes from the complete tension of waiting, though there's still something in the pit of his stomach. Dark thoughts, words, and feelings left unsaid and unaddressed, for now. Guilt, sorrow, grief, anger. She's in no state to deal with that right now, though. She needs to adjust, and her comfort needs to come first, before his own feelings.
There had been a bed. Once. She's not sure she'll ever be able to tell Finnick all that has happened to her. But that's the last thing on her mind. All she's thinking about is Finnick. About him, about being with him and the way their bodies naturally slide together. How good it feels to have him kiss her skin.
She smiles at him, her eyes full of sorrow. She kisses his knuckles back.
They should be doing more, she thinks vaguely. Ripping their clothes off and going at it. But that wasn't the right sort of intimacy. Being close and together had always been their favorite form. And after what she's been through... Kissing is more than enough.
She feels him relax, and moves to fill in the spaces he's left. "Real." She tells them both. This was real.
He would never pressure her to tell him anything. He's aware that her recalling such terrible experiences could do her more harm than good, and besides... He's not sure he could handle hearing it, at least not now.
Her body against his feels like home. Like he's spent three months in the freezing cold and has finally sat down with a blanket by the fire, his stiff muscles easing.
He looks into her sad eyes.
"Real. I promise. I love you, Annie. I..."
A small glance away, a twitch of emotion in his brow.
"I'm so sorry..." He can't exactly put words to what he's sorry for, but his voice is full of regret and guilt nonetheless.
"Love you, too." She doesn't hesitate to say it in the least, looks back into his blue eyes. she takes his fingers, kisses them gently as he apologizes.
"Finnick, no. Don't apologize. Not your fault." None of it was. He did all that he could to keep her safe. And she'd done all she could in return for him.
Her sweet words and kisses make his brow furrow deeper, a frown forming as his hand rubs the small of her back.
"There isn't much to be proud of... I've been a mess without you, and no matter what I did, I couldn't convince them to rescue you sooner... They wrote me off as... Well, as mad. I should have been stronger..."
That's his job, always. To be the strong one, to protect Annie and Mags while they care for him in turn. He failed both of them. He's always been resourceful and cunning enough to overcome trauma and tragedy in the past, so he doesn't know why this time he just... Broke completely.
She shakes her head, taking his face in her hands gently.
"No," she tells him patiently. "Survived." And that was important. That was what you had to cling to, when the tides of your memories tried to make you hate yourself because of what it meant to be a Victor. Victors. Not Survivors.
"You're so strong, Finnick." A rare, full sentence, when she was like this.
He's always been strong. She's seen him fall apart, and put himself back together. She's been there with him to help nearly every time. That he did so well on his own without her and Mags is admirable. They took care of each other. That was how it had always worked between the three of them.
"Here now." And just like that her words are gone again. But she was here. And she would help him however she could. Even when she needed just as much help.
Survived against his will, he thinks. In spite of himself. This time, he was the one who had to be saved. But she's right, everyone needs saving sometimes.
Annie knows him well. She and Mags are the only people who truly know him, and they know him to his very core, so when she tells him he's strong, he has to believe her. Tears prick at his eyes as he realizes how hard he's being on himself. Katniss was in essentially the same situation as him, and he empathized easily with her, so that same mindset should apply to himself. Sometimes, all you can do is survive.
"You're right, sweetheart."
Finnick takes her face in his hands and kisses her forehead reverently, gently. Then he wraps his arms around her and securely pulls her in, their bodies now completely flush, his face buried in her shoulder.
"We survived. I'm so proud of you, too." She's still herself in spite of it all. They couldn't take away who she is, her humanity, nor his.
She fits perfectly into his arms, her body moving to fit against his contours. This is all she needs, to be close to him. There is no pressure to do anything else with him, other than just breath in his essence.
"We survived. Together now. Won't separate us again." It was just the two of them in their own world now, a world made of sheets and skin, an entire universe in the other's eyes.
"Finnick?" She asks after a moment of stillness. "What... where are we?" They'd told her they were taking her to District 13. But District 13 didn't exist anymore. And yet, here they were. "Doctors here"
"No, they won't." He can breathe so much more easily now, and his eyes fall closed.
"Oh, we're in District 13, love. I know we always thought it didn't exist, but it does. They were hiding underground this whole time, building their society back up. So we're deep underground, right now. They grow their own food here, make their own stuff, don't waste anything. The doctors... They're not nearly as bad as Capitol doctors, I'm sure. But I'll protect you from them anyway."
He's sure the doctors will insist on evaluating Annie psychologically and possibly medicating her, but he will advocate for her as much as he can and ask Katniss for help, if needed. Katniss has more pull, as the Mockingjay.
"Oh." She takes his words in, understands them. How strange. How brilliant, that they'd gone underground to escape the bombings during the war. That they'd rebuilt in the 75 years since. And that they were here, to hide them now during this new rebellion.
"Real?" She asks. Capitol doctors were bad. They, the scientists as well, all of them with their blue surgical gloves, their unrevealing faces and their cruelty. She didn't trust them. She didn't trust the District 13 doctors, either.
But she would need to be evaluated, especially as she'd run off with Finnick instead of staying put. She knew that. But she wouldn't go through it without Finnick at her side. Forever together, now.
She snuggles against Finnick, holding him to her chest.
He wasn't sure if merely the mention of the doctors here might set her off, but given that she seems okay with talking about it, he'll elaborate further.
"Real. They might want to talk to you, run some tests, might give you some medication to make you feel better. But I'll be there with you the whole time, and I won't let them hurt you. They won't want to hurt you, they'll want to help. They've been taking care of me lots while you've been gone, making sure I didn't do anything stupid. There's a therapist, too, and he's not very helpful, but he's totally harmless. It'll be okay."
He is sugar coating it a little. Finnick hasn't enjoyed his time with the doctors here, and he definitely is a bit traumatized by some of the things they've done to him. The restraint, the drugging. He can't guarantee that won't happen to her. But he knows it can't be anywhere near what Annie went through in the Capitol, and that they both have more control here than she ever did there.
"Tests?" Unbidden, she thinks of what they'd done to her in the Capitol. Some of them had been tests. Experiments. Just different ways to make her scream. She rubs her wrists gingerly, touches her throat, to be sure she can still breathe the air. "Medicine." The foul tasting things they'd forced her to swallow, the jabs with their needles.
But they'd taken care of Finnick here. They couldn't be so bad. "Help, not hurt," she repeats, to make sure she remembers. She can try to cooperate. She can do her very best. But Annie was so often a victim of a mind she could not control.
"Glad they kept you safe for me." She looks up at him and smiles sadly.
"Help, not hurt. It won't be like that." It's a lie, a white lie. They will jab Annie with needles if she freaks out. But if the intent is different, does that make it okay? No. Not for Annie. She'll be damaged by it all the same, just as Finnick had been. What they seem to value here is rule and order. If you're too chaotic or rebellious, no matter the reason, they'll put you in line. Not too different from the job of a Peacekeeper, just a little less deadly.
"It won't be fun. You might be scared. But you're strong. And I'll be there."
He returns her sad smile. Everything she says breaks his heart a little. Alludes to what they both went through. It all feels so bittersweet.
"Me too." Though it fucked him up, what they'd done to him here kept him alive to see Annie again, so perhaps the ends justify the means. He kisses her lips again, softly. He doesn't feel the need to have sex with her. He doesn't think she's ready for that. They can just chat until she gets sleepy.
Sex is the last thing on her mind. She'd always had a crush on Finnick, like so many others in Four. When they finally tumbled into bed together, it had been wonderful. And as she learned more about Finnick, she understood why, and did her best to be accommodating. Sex was always wonderful with him. But there was something so much more intimate about just being close to one another. Something the Capitol couldn't touch.
And she'd always enjoyed sex. It was fun, freeing, relaxing. At least, it had been.
It hadn't been for a long time, instead a weapon used to hurt and humiliate her.
She didn't know how to explain that to Finnick. She didn't want to have to explain it. She wanted to shield him from what had happened to her. When it came to sex, however, he would find out sooner or later. Annie was grateful it was later.
There was so much more to a relationship than sex, after all.
"Stay with me forever?" She asks, taking his hand again after he kisses her. "I'm stronger with you. Braver. Better with you."
Fortunately, he'll probably understand without her having to explain much. Unfortunately, it will fucking kill him to hear about it. Definitely best discussed later, when they're both more stable. Finnick is intentionally allowing her to guide the conversation, not bringing up any new information that could be upsetting unless she asks (like Mags' death, which he doesn't know if she knows about yet).
Sex with Annie had always been fun, and it had always been filled with love, compassion, and care, moreso than any other sex he ever had. Annie's bed was a safe place for him when no other beds felt that way, and he'd do anything to ensure she felt the same about him, even after trauma. Especially after trauma.
"Forever. Yes." He strokes his thumb against her fingers.
"I want to marry you, Annie. If the rebels win this war, we could start a new life, one where we're free and belong only to each other. That's what we need to look forward to."
Not owned by Snow. Not at the beck and call of Capitol citizens. Not forced into Games. If they had a kid, that kid could live free of fear, never attending a reaping in their life. It's scary to allow himself such hope. He'd been denying it, until now, but now that she's here, hope is easier. Necessary, even.
"Marry me?" She'd always wanted it. Always knew it wouldn't happen. People in the Capitol weren't even allowed to know how close she and Finnick were. They kept her to the side when cameras arrived to showcase how training was going, or how charming Finnick was. Annie was a forgotten Victor. Mad girls didn't make for great television.
She squeezes his hand.
"Finnick-" she hesitates. She wants to marry him. More than anything in the world. She's dreamed of it. She bites her lower lip. "You want to marry me?"
"Of course I do, love," he says quickly, the words spilling out of his mouth as though he's been holding them in for too long. "I have for a long time, it just wasn't worth bringing up before because it couldn't happen. But now... Maybe we actually could, at some point."
He's right. They could get married now. They can be together publicly, not some dirty secret kept hidden away because it would ruin Finnick's image and profitability.
They could get married.
They could have a family. In name. In blood.
"Finnick- oh!" She leans down and kisses the grin from his lips. "Yes! Of course! Want to- want to marry you!" She giggles, curling her toes against his calves. Married! Them!
"Annie Cresta-Odair." She liked the way it sounded. Like a wave against the beach.
Finnick kisses her back, laughing breathlessly. Her answer isn't a surprise, per se, but it is a relief and a delight. Almost unbelievable that this morning Annie was in the clutches of the Capitol, and now she's here in his arms talking about the very real possibility of marriage. What a day.
"Love the sound of that. Music to my ears." He hates hiding Annie away. She's beautiful, she's radiant, she's adorable, and he's proud of her. He's proud to be with her, and he hates having to act like he isn't.
He kisses her again, and he's so happy that for a moment he forgets he even has the capacity to feel anything else.
"If the new world is safe for children after all of this, maybe we could even..."
She fixes him with a look and says, "Finnick Cresta sounds nice, too." If he wanted to shed his entire pre-Rebellion persona and become an entirely new person. It's good that she can tease him still so easily.
Really, any name they went with, she was happy.
She meets his kiss.
"You could!" She had always wanted children, but not in the world like it was. As the child of a Victor, any child she had was sure to get reaped, pulled into the spotlight unwillingly from the moment they were conceived. Oh, to have a child with Finnick, though. Full proof of their love, right there where they could touch and feel them. There were risks, of course, Annie's mental state would surely play a large role in how such things went, but she wasn't thinking of that. She was only thinking of watching Finnick and their son or daughter play in the waves as the sun set behind them.
"Yes, Finnick. Marriage and children. A family." Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, but she cannot stop smiling.
"It does." He's not particularly attached to his name, and really, it might be a burden lifted to cut his associations with his public identity. Finnick Odair is for the rich to consume. Finnick Cresta is for her alone.
A family. A family. Not just their little group of Victors, but small humans who would take after them, who they could raise and shape all their own, without the terrible interference of the Games. It's a hope beyond hopes, a pipe dream, and yet when it makes Annie beam like that, he can't possibly deny the dream to either of them.
"A little boy... Or girl... Or both..." Finnick can't even decide what he would want more. He'd teach them to swim, to fish, they could live on the beach, live a simple life.
"Oh, Annie..." Tears fill his eyes as he squeezes her close again. These hopes are foolish and he knows it, but after the horrible few months they've had, he can't help but indulge in some joy.
"Or both!" She tells him, her toes curling in excitement. Marriage, a family, children. She'd always been good with children, helping to teach some of them to swim before her Games. Afterward, people were afraid she'd try to drown the children, or find herself lost in her own head to the detriment of the pupils. But she'd had her little brother, only six years old when he'd been killed, alongside her parents.
Turns out, mad girls didn't make for good Victors, because you couldn't control them any more than they could control themselves. They didn't understand the way others did, what would happen if they stepped out of line. So they had to be taught another way. A visit of a few peacemakers in the middle of the night, the noise of a hovercraft rising above the waves. Careful words aimed at the surviving child by a man who smelled too much like roses, even over the smell of salt.
She'd always wanted children. And to have them with Finnick?
"Happy," she repeats, the idea of happiness a far-off dream. She'd like to be happy. Happy without the backdrop of sorrow that had firmly placed there when her name had been called that fateful day.
"And you!" She tells him, "a father! You'll be so good! So kind and patient." Just like he'd been with her, with Mags, with the trainees.
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ANNIE & FINNICK
Mental illness, trauma, torture, sexual assault, sexual abuse, suicide attempts, suicidal ideation and discussion, self harm, psychosis, disassociation, violence, drugging/restraint, insitutionalization, regression, other extreme states, potential death, and more topics.
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Finnick's worst nightmares have come true.
Another games. Mags is dead. Annie was captured and taken to the Capitol along with Peeta and Johanna. And there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.
One of his first suggestions was that he kill himself, so they'd lose interest in Annie. Haymitch and Plutarch told him that was a no-go, that they'd just kill Annie if he did that.
He fell into despair. When he wasn't completely disassociated and somewhere else, he was so inconsolable they had to sedate him. Death would be a better fate for the three captured than whatever they were currently enduring, and he tortured himself with thoughts of her suffering, of what creative means they might use to hurt her. At heart, Finnick is a protector; knowing someone he loves is in pain and he can't save them is his own personal hell.
He reached the end of his proverbial rope on a few occasions, trying to stab himself with the needle of his IV or bashing his head against the wall, actions of course met with restraint and heavy sedation. There is a therapist here, and he is absolutely no help. Finnick believes he's beyond help, anyway. The only resolution to his mental state is his death, Annie's death, or her return. There is no accepting this. He's deemed too unstable to even mingle with the general public of 13 or do anything productive for Coin, so he just sits alone in his windowless hospital room, tying and untying his rope all day, all night, until he can't take it anymore and either hurts himself or goes back to sleep.
Time becomes irrelevant. It is all too long without her. Every hour of every day feels impossible without knowing Annie is safe.
Finally, Katniss manages to convince Coin of a rescue mission and a pardon of the captured Victors. There's finally a light in this pitch-black cave he's in, but it only makes him feel restless and anxious. He ends up spilling all his secrets on national TV- or rather, the dirty secrets of the rich. Dirtiest of all, that of Snow. What does he have to lose? Nothing, but he has Annie to potentially gain.
If he allows himself a shadow of a hope.
While waiting for news, he and Katniss tie rope together. Tying, untying, tying, untying. If he loses focus on the rope for even a moment he thinks he might be sick. It feels like an eternity they're waiting, but who knows how long it really is.
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They disguised it as medicine. As procedures. The torture they put her through- all to get information from her she had told them a thousand times she didn't have. Her grasp on reality was slipping, and Annie spent as much time present in those rooms as she did far, far away in her mind. The doctors, as she called them, tortured her. They extracted screams from her, and one doctor in particular seemed to take a cruel liking to her. He played the role of her friend, but he was the one who held her down in ice cold water as she thrashed and begged and kicked until she passed out.
Once, she thought it would be smart to lie to the doctors. To tell them what they wanted to know, all of it a lie. They took her word, and when that word proved false, they raped her.
The torture continued. The rape continued. Annie was hardly herself anymore. Sometimes, if she were lucky, President Snow would visit, and ask her why she couldn't just cooperate. They dislocated her shoulder when she spit at him.
At some point during all this, Peeta and Johanna joined her. She knew it was them from the sound of their screams as they echoed through the underground facility.
And one day it happened. Alarms blared throughout the faculty, waking the prisoners up. Outside their cells, soldiers ran back and fourth, scientists, doctors. Annie cowered in her cell, screaming, when the door burst open and a man burst in, and asked her if she was okay, that he was taking her to Finnick. Annie promptly responded by trying to attack her rescuer. When she came to, she was in a hovercraft, handcuffed to a gurney, Gale Hawthorne nursing a bruised jaw from her wild swing.
They were going to District 13, they told her patiently, and if she didn't stop thrashing, they'd have to sedate her again. Either with the drugs in her system, or exhaustion from the last few months, Annie obeyed, falling silent with apprehension. She was safe, they told her. She wasn't safe until she saw Finnick. Then she would be safe.
Until she saw him and touched him, none of this was happening. It was just like what he'd told her back in her cell. Until she could touch him, none of this was real.
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He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. What state will he find Annie in? Beaten, bruised, starved? In a coma, in the midst of psychosis? Is she an avox now, did the disfigure her? It's terrifying, but whatever it is, he'll take care of her. That's his job, no matter what. He scans around wildly for her, every flash of reddish hair on a stranger making his breath hitch.
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"No!" She screams, shoving him. She'd done something similar, when she'd been taken from the Arena, and maybe this is just like that? Some of the orderlies try to grab her, but she's small and she's fast, despite being underfed the adrenaline surges through her. She has to get out of here. She has to get out of here and find Finnick and see if he's--
"FINNICK!" She runs to him, clutching the sheet around her body as she throws herself at him. He'll protect her. He will always protect her, except when he couldn't. "Finnick!" Her arms are around him, and she buries her head into his chest, not even caring if he's not real and this is just another game created by the doctors. She needs him.
The tears come unbidden, and she holds him as tight as she can. "Real- real- real," she repeats to herself. He's real. He's solid. He's here. Nothing else matters.
yay i have an icon for PRECISELY THIS
"Annie? Annie!"
And then, he sees her, he catches her, and it's a fucking miracle. He holds her like a lifeline, because she is.
"You're safe, you're safe," he whispers, both of them saying things aloud that they absolutely need to believe, but haven't fully grasped yet. She may not be okay in most senses of the word, but she's alive, she's here, she can speak, she can move. That's enough for him right now. Happy tears gather in his eyes as well, and he laughs breathlessly, pushing her hair out of her beautiful face and looking into those sea-green eyes, then kissing her firmly.
"I'm real, baby, I'm here."
RUDE. I have weird icons because I used to have a paid.
Annie's laughing, too, high girlish giggles that have her scrunching her toes on the cold floor, even as she stands on tiptoe. She's kissing Finnick back, tears on her cheeks mingling with his.
"Finnick!" She says his name again because no matter how many times she's screamed for him she knows he's here now. She can touch him. He touches her. She never wants to let go of him.
"Finnick- you're here. You're really here. You're not--" and she grabs him again in a tight hug as a sob wracks her small frame. "Real. Real. Real." She repeats it over and over again. "Thought-- never see you again!"
Who the heck is THAT /j
"Could I do this if I wasn't real?" He picks her up by her waist and swings her around, stumbling only slightly, and laughs again.
"Ah, I missed you so much. Are you hurt?" He ducks his head a little to look into her eyes with concern. He sees that she's emaciated and bruised. She has scars that weren't there before. He suddenly hopes he hasn't hurt her in his handling of her, and softens his grip considerably. Doesn't let go; will never let go.
Me NOT using Stef Dawson
"Doesn't matter," she tells him. He'll notice the shortening of her sentences, pronouns disappearing. It's a sure sign she's regressed, that she's in the midst of a bad time mentally. He'll know she's hurt in ways she can't even start to describe, that she doesn't have words for, because words leave her when things get bad. It's been this way for a while now, the childish cadence.
"Happy you're here. Don't leave me. Ever again." She's still clinging to him, her head on his chest where she can hear his heart.
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"Not ever. I promise." Without hesitation, he'd kill the next person who dared lay a finger on her.
Absently, he wonders where to take her. He doesn't want to cause her more distress. They need a safe place, right now.
"Do you want to come back to my room with me?" He finally has his own room here, and he'll be damned if Annie has to stay in a hospital room like he did. He'll tell the doctors anything he needs to. They already know he's crazy. Katniss could pull for him, too, if needed.
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This is still the woman who'd stabbed more than one orderly with a stolen scalpel over her time there.
She's still a Victor.
That was one of the problems. They'd forgotten about her, and they'd underestimated her. Finnick never forgot her. He never underestimated him.
"Wanna stay with you," she tells him, hugging him again. he was the only one left that understood her, that wasn't quick to write her off. "Don't like doctors."
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He rubs her back, kisses the top of her head, and murmurs into her hair.
"You'll stay with me, then. I'll make sure the doctors give you lots of space. My bed is small, but something tells me you won't mind that, mm?" He rubs her shoulder, beginning to usher her toward his room, to somewhere more private. He hadn't even noticed that their reunion caught eyes, and he doesn't care, but he does make sure Annie is covered up.
"Can you walk okay, sweetheart?"
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"No, I like that," she agrees, sliding her hand into his. She looks down, letting her hair cover her face again, hiding her from the eyes she certainly can feel. She knows what they're thinking. The Mad Victor.
They're underestimating her, too.
She shifts. "Enough. Is it far?" She catches his eye through the waves of her red hair.
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He can't help but smile at her once more as he catches her eye, and it's certainly not his cheap and fake one.
"Not too far. Just lean on me, stay close."
He weaves them deftly through the halls, fighting the current of people in drab military outfits marching with purpose. Everyone is on a tight schedule here- everyone except for Finnick, anyway. All the doors and halls and rooms look the same. All of it usually looks dreadful and bleak to him, but today, the fluorescent lights seem a little warmer in hue, and some of the people seem to almost be smiling. The ones who aren't staring with apprehension, anyway. In addition to Annie's reputation, Finnick has earned some rumors here, too. It's no wonder; he's been wandering the halls listlessly in his hospital gown and slippers, endlessly tying and untying the same rope with a distant stare in his red-rimmed eyes.
But no more; now he's present and radiating with a joyful love. He counts the room numbers until he finds his. It's precisely like every other room. He unlocks the door and finally, finally, they are alone together. He sighs with utter relief and a substantial touch of exhaustion.
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None of them were okay, not even in the slightest.
She leans against Finnick, as she always has in one way or another. She was a year behind him, when they'd been in school, and she and her friends had admired him and giggled when they watched him walk by. She'd wanted to be like him, remembering how she'd sold some jewelry she'd made with sea glass to try to get enough money to help him get that trident of his.
The door unlocks, and the two of them are alone. Annie takes in the room, sterile, boring, but her eyes light up when she sees the bed. Small as it is, it's got a mattress, a blanket- she lets go of Finnick to throw herself upon the bed and bury her face in the pillows. "Bed! Blanket!" A luxury she hadn't had for some time, the blanket she'd once been given in the Capitol having been long since destroyed, covered in blood, tears, other fluids.
But she turns on the bed, and reaches a hand out for Finnick. She wants him to join her, to lay with her so they can feel safe at long last. They can't hear the ocean from where they are- it's been forever since she's heard the surf crashing against the rocks and docks. But hearing his heart, feelin the rise and fall of his chest, would suffice.
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So he forces a pleasant expression and moves to take her hand and join her on his bed. He pulls the blanket up around them, pulling her hand up to his face and kissing her dainty knuckles. His body further relaxes from the complete tension of waiting, though there's still something in the pit of his stomach. Dark thoughts, words, and feelings left unsaid and unaddressed, for now. Guilt, sorrow, grief, anger. She's in no state to deal with that right now, though. She needs to adjust, and her comfort needs to come first, before his own feelings.
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She smiles at him, her eyes full of sorrow. She kisses his knuckles back.
They should be doing more, she thinks vaguely. Ripping their clothes off and going at it. But that wasn't the right sort of intimacy. Being close and together had always been their favorite form. And after what she's been through... Kissing is more than enough.
She feels him relax, and moves to fill in the spaces he's left. "Real." She tells them both. This was real.
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Her body against his feels like home. Like he's spent three months in the freezing cold and has finally sat down with a blanket by the fire, his stiff muscles easing.
He looks into her sad eyes.
"Real. I promise. I love you, Annie. I..."
A small glance away, a twitch of emotion in his brow.
"I'm so sorry..." He can't exactly put words to what he's sorry for, but his voice is full of regret and guilt nonetheless.
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"Finnick, no. Don't apologize. Not your fault." None of it was. He did all that he could to keep her safe. And she'd done all she could in return for him.
Even the time she gave them false information.
"Proud of you." She kisses his forehead.
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"There isn't much to be proud of... I've been a mess without you, and no matter what I did, I couldn't convince them to rescue you sooner... They wrote me off as... Well, as mad. I should have been stronger..."
That's his job, always. To be the strong one, to protect Annie and Mags while they care for him in turn. He failed both of them. He's always been resourceful and cunning enough to overcome trauma and tragedy in the past, so he doesn't know why this time he just... Broke completely.
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"No," she tells him patiently. "Survived." And that was important. That was what you had to cling to, when the tides of your memories tried to make you hate yourself because of what it meant to be a Victor. Victors. Not Survivors.
"You're so strong, Finnick." A rare, full sentence, when she was like this.
He's always been strong. She's seen him fall apart, and put himself back together. She's been there with him to help nearly every time. That he did so well on his own without her and Mags is admirable. They took care of each other. That was how it had always worked between the three of them.
"Here now." And just like that her words are gone again. But she was here. And she would help him however she could. Even when she needed just as much help.
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Annie knows him well. She and Mags are the only people who truly know him, and they know him to his very core, so when she tells him he's strong, he has to believe her. Tears prick at his eyes as he realizes how hard he's being on himself. Katniss was in essentially the same situation as him, and he empathized easily with her, so that same mindset should apply to himself. Sometimes, all you can do is survive.
"You're right, sweetheart."
Finnick takes her face in his hands and kisses her forehead reverently, gently. Then he wraps his arms around her and securely pulls her in, their bodies now completely flush, his face buried in her shoulder.
"We survived. I'm so proud of you, too." She's still herself in spite of it all. They couldn't take away who she is, her humanity, nor his.
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"We survived. Together now. Won't separate us again." It was just the two of them in their own world now, a world made of sheets and skin, an entire universe in the other's eyes.
"Finnick?" She asks after a moment of stillness. "What... where are we?" They'd told her they were taking her to District 13. But District 13 didn't exist anymore. And yet, here they were. "Doctors here"
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"Oh, we're in District 13, love. I know we always thought it didn't exist, but it does. They were hiding underground this whole time, building their society back up. So we're deep underground, right now. They grow their own food here, make their own stuff, don't waste anything. The doctors... They're not nearly as bad as Capitol doctors, I'm sure. But I'll protect you from them anyway."
He's sure the doctors will insist on evaluating Annie psychologically and possibly medicating her, but he will advocate for her as much as he can and ask Katniss for help, if needed. Katniss has more pull, as the Mockingjay.
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"Real?" She asks. Capitol doctors were bad. They, the scientists as well, all of them with their blue surgical gloves, their unrevealing faces and their cruelty. She didn't trust them. She didn't trust the District 13 doctors, either.
But she would need to be evaluated, especially as she'd run off with Finnick instead of staying put. She knew that. But she wouldn't go through it without Finnick at her side. Forever together, now.
She snuggles against Finnick, holding him to her chest.
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"Real. They might want to talk to you, run some tests, might give you some medication to make you feel better. But I'll be there with you the whole time, and I won't let them hurt you. They won't want to hurt you, they'll want to help. They've been taking care of me lots while you've been gone, making sure I didn't do anything stupid. There's a therapist, too, and he's not very helpful, but he's totally harmless. It'll be okay."
He is sugar coating it a little. Finnick hasn't enjoyed his time with the doctors here, and he definitely is a bit traumatized by some of the things they've done to him. The restraint, the drugging. He can't guarantee that won't happen to her. But he knows it can't be anywhere near what Annie went through in the Capitol, and that they both have more control here than she ever did there.
He kisses her head again. His precious girl.
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"Tests?" Unbidden, she thinks of what they'd done to her in the Capitol. Some of them had been tests. Experiments. Just different ways to make her scream. She rubs her wrists gingerly, touches her throat, to be sure she can still breathe the air. "Medicine." The foul tasting things they'd forced her to swallow, the jabs with their needles.
But they'd taken care of Finnick here. They couldn't be so bad. "Help, not hurt," she repeats, to make sure she remembers. She can try to cooperate. She can do her very best. But Annie was so often a victim of a mind she could not control.
"Glad they kept you safe for me." She looks up at him and smiles sadly.
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"It won't be fun. You might be scared. But you're strong. And I'll be there."
He returns her sad smile. Everything she says breaks his heart a little. Alludes to what they both went through. It all feels so bittersweet.
"Me too." Though it fucked him up, what they'd done to him here kept him alive to see Annie again, so perhaps the ends justify the means. He kisses her lips again, softly. He doesn't feel the need to have sex with her. He doesn't think she's ready for that. They can just chat until she gets sleepy.
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And she'd always enjoyed sex. It was fun, freeing, relaxing. At least, it had been.
It hadn't been for a long time, instead a weapon used to hurt and humiliate her.
She didn't know how to explain that to Finnick. She didn't want to have to explain it. She wanted to shield him from what had happened to her. When it came to sex, however, he would find out sooner or later. Annie was grateful it was later.
There was so much more to a relationship than sex, after all.
"Stay with me forever?" She asks, taking his hand again after he kisses her. "I'm stronger with you. Braver. Better with you."
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Sex with Annie had always been fun, and it had always been filled with love, compassion, and care, moreso than any other sex he ever had. Annie's bed was a safe place for him when no other beds felt that way, and he'd do anything to ensure she felt the same about him, even after trauma. Especially after trauma.
"Forever. Yes." He strokes his thumb against her fingers.
"I want to marry you, Annie. If the rebels win this war, we could start a new life, one where we're free and belong only to each other. That's what we need to look forward to."
Not owned by Snow. Not at the beck and call of Capitol citizens. Not forced into Games. If they had a kid, that kid could live free of fear, never attending a reaping in their life. It's scary to allow himself such hope. He'd been denying it, until now, but now that she's here, hope is easier. Necessary, even.
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She squeezes his hand.
"Finnick-" she hesitates. She wants to marry him. More than anything in the world. She's dreamed of it. She bites her lower lip. "You want to marry me?"
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A sheepish grin grows on his lips.
"Um... That is, if you'd want to."
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They could get married.
They could have a family. In name. In blood.
"Finnick- oh!" She leans down and kisses the grin from his lips. "Yes! Of course! Want to- want to marry you!" She giggles, curling her toes against his calves. Married! Them!
"Annie Cresta-Odair." She liked the way it sounded. Like a wave against the beach.
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"Love the sound of that. Music to my ears." He hates hiding Annie away. She's beautiful, she's radiant, she's adorable, and he's proud of her. He's proud to be with her, and he hates having to act like he isn't.
He kisses her again, and he's so happy that for a moment he forgets he even has the capacity to feel anything else.
"If the new world is safe for children after all of this, maybe we could even..."
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Really, any name they went with, she was happy.
She meets his kiss.
"You could!" She had always wanted children, but not in the world like it was. As the child of a Victor, any child she had was sure to get reaped, pulled into the spotlight unwillingly from the moment they were conceived. Oh, to have a child with Finnick, though. Full proof of their love, right there where they could touch and feel them. There were risks, of course, Annie's mental state would surely play a large role in how such things went, but she wasn't thinking of that. She was only thinking of watching Finnick and their son or daughter play in the waves as the sun set behind them.
"Yes, Finnick. Marriage and children. A family." Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, but she cannot stop smiling.
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"It does." He's not particularly attached to his name, and really, it might be a burden lifted to cut his associations with his public identity. Finnick Odair is for the rich to consume. Finnick Cresta is for her alone.
A family. A family. Not just their little group of Victors, but small humans who would take after them, who they could raise and shape all their own, without the terrible interference of the Games. It's a hope beyond hopes, a pipe dream, and yet when it makes Annie beam like that, he can't possibly deny the dream to either of them.
"A little boy... Or girl... Or both..." Finnick can't even decide what he would want more. He'd teach them to swim, to fish, they could live on the beach, live a simple life.
"Oh, Annie..." Tears fill his eyes as he squeezes her close again. These hopes are foolish and he knows it, but after the horrible few months they've had, he can't help but indulge in some joy.
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Turns out, mad girls didn't make for good Victors, because you couldn't control them any more than they could control themselves. They didn't understand the way others did, what would happen if they stepped out of line. So they had to be taught another way. A visit of a few peacemakers in the middle of the night, the noise of a hovercraft rising above the waves. Careful words aimed at the surviving child by a man who smelled too much like roses, even over the smell of salt.
She'd always wanted children. And to have them with Finnick?
She kisses the tip of his nose.
"Our family. No one can take it away. Just ours."
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Hope is the only thing stronger than fear.
"They can grow up without all of that fear. They can be happy."
Not traumatized, not broken, like Finnick and Annie are. But...
"I think you'll be an amazing mother, Annie. Our children will never once question whether they're loved." He kisses her lips again.
one whole-ass novel later...
"And you!" She tells him, "a father! You'll be so good! So kind and patient." Just like he'd been with her, with Mags, with the trainees.
"And they'll never have to fear. Never."