13Johanna Mason bursts into the sitting room.
'Just like Finnick,' she says, tossing a large holdall into the corner. 'Dragging me away from a weekend with Vamos to babysit. And no,' she holds up a hand towards Mags, who has entered with her arms outstretched, 'I can't fucking stand hugs, as you well know. I prefer alcohol.'
Mags retreats. Johanna flings herself down on the couch opposite to me and crosses a leg up on the opposite knee. She glares, and I stare back in amazement. The book I have been trying and failing to read all morning sits abandoned by my side.
Mags returns with a steaming pot of tea. I thank her, and Johanna glowers. 'Fuck's sake; I'll get it myself.' Mags leaves, and Johanna begins rifling through a cabinet at the side of the room. 'I know he keeps some…ha!'
She resurfaces with a bottle of whiskey, and smacks down two tumblers on the table between us. 'I know you're about to tell me you don't drink, because you're a fucking annoying little princess. But between the two of us I'm the expert on how to survive life as a Victor,' She pours me a generous measure. 'So drink.'
Johanna settles back into the couch, takes a long sip and sighs. I cradle my glass nervously between my fingers.
'So,' she cocks her head. 'How are you enjoying your new anointed life as a glorious Victor and shining beacon of hope to the great unwashed of District 4?'
I blink. 'I have PTSD,' I say.
Johanna raises her glass. 'All part of the job description, sweetpea.' She glances at the door. 'This lot managing to keep you from the brink?'
'Mags has been so lovely,' I say.
'Lovely?' Johanna splutters. 'Mags is a conniving bitch. She's always pulling some old person dementia shit to trick you into things.' She takes another drink. 'Congrats for not dying, by the way.'
I gape at her, then laugh. Somehow this makes Johanna's scowl deepen, and then abruptly I find myself having to choke back sobs. Johanna looks at me as though I might explode at any moment.
'I'm alright,' I say, 'I'm just – It's good to see you Johanna.'
'Stop,' she says, and downs the rest of her whiskey. 'I have to put up with your presence, not your nonsense.' She smacks down the tumbler. 'What exactly does one do for fun around here?'
'Well, there's the beach,' I say, 'And the garden is beautiful…'
Johanna waves her hand. 'I need another drink.'
'Johanna… Finnick didn't say you were coming. If you were busy this weekend, please, don't stay.'
'Yeah. Too late, I'm here.' She pours herself out another measure. 'Finnick asked me. I don't know if he's worried you're suicidal, or you've done something to him,' she pins me with dark eyes over the top of the tumbler, 'But either way, whatever.'
'Done something?' I'm momentarily afraid for him. 'What do you mean?'
'Let's just say he doesn't normally sound so upset about going back to hang out with the high and mighty. Most of the time I swear he actually enjoys it.'
I twist my fingers in my lap. 'How is he? Did you see him before you left?'
'Why are you asking me?' She pulls out a datapad, a huge, unsettling grin on her face. 'Why don't you check for yourself? Let's see…' The datapad projects several holomag sheets into the air, and Johanna swipes lazily through them. 'Velvet is flying the flag for your tragic, star crossed love.' She pouts dramatically. 'What happened to Annie? Is she fucked in the head? Where did she go, and why doesn't Finnick give a shit about her anymore? Such a tragedy.' She swipes again. 'Oh, here we are. Finnick Odair papped last night at an exclusive club down town. Seen leaving the party with Keechee McCauley – now she has some legs on her – but then he came back two hours later? Cheeky bastard. I'm so proud. And then he left again, this time with both the Dianzo twins, but was papped again two hours ago leaving an apartment on Prosperity Avenue that I happen to know belongs to Gorgrot Font.' She tosses the datapad to one side. 'Sounds like a good time, and it's only Tuesday.'
Oh, Finnick.
Johanna tilts her head to one side. 'That's it? Not even a little twinge of jealousy?'
'How could I be?' I shake my head. My stomach churns, but it's not jealousy. It's sadness. 'Even if he had a real choice…who am I to tell him who he can sleep with?'
The clock on the mantelpiece ticks through the silence. Johanna watches me through narrowed eyes.
'You know what my mentor told me?' she says eventually, 'Don't fuck your tribute unless you know they're gonna die.'
I blink. Maybe I would be shocked, if it wasn't Johanna. If I hadn't taken another type of pill this morning, one that makes everything a little distant, a little grey. Perhaps I am supposed to laugh, or maybe would that hurt her feelings. Is she trying to hurt my feelings?
'God,' Johanna snaps, 'What does it take to get a reaction out of you?'
'I find you a little confusing,' I say slowly, clasping my hands in my lap. 'It's hard to know what to say.'
'I'm confusing?' she huffs, kicking her legs up over the side of the couch and flopping her head back onto a cushion. 'You're confusing. Look at you, sat there, all sweet and dopey and acting completely innocent after everything that's happened. Like you're not even scared'
'I'm not innocent,' I say quietly. 'I am scared.'
Johanna groans dramatically. 'You're supposed to be furious, Annie. Furious at everyone! Or rolling around the Capitol up to your eyes in drugs and having the time of your life. Going fucking wild, going insane. Raging. I don't know. Screaming. Something. Anything.'
'I'm trying to be… accepting,' I say.
'Oh my gooood,' Johanna says, and flops her head back down onto the pillow. 'I am going to die of boredom here.'
If my brain was working a little faster today, maybe I could think of something to say… or something we could do together. No, something Johanna could do alone, she'd definitely prefer that. But I am content to look at the wallpaper.
'I'm trying to figure out what Finnick sees in you,' Johanna muses, staring up at the ceiling. 'With any luck he'll be over you soon, and we'll be rid of you. Cute. Innocent. Girl next door. Terrible conversation. Obviously a virgin.' She turns her head to face me with that sharp, dangerous smile of hers. 'Well. Was.'
I meet her gaze, and hope my cheeks aren't warming. It's not like it's anything to be ashamed of.
'Repressed little District girl,' Johanna says, 'I'm sure you were dying to clamber all over him.'
I'm not going to answer that, but Johanna doesn't wait for a reply anyway. 'Oh no, don't tell me. Not repressed, just waiting for that special someone.' She snorts. 'Then you got the chance to sleep with Finnick Odair, and out went all your morals.'
'I didn't sleep with him because he's Finnick Odair,' I say, frowning.
'But you did sleep with him,' she says in triumph. 'Exactly how many days did your precious girlhood hold out against Panem's biggest sex symbol?'
'Johanna, I know you think I'm distracting Finnick,' I say. 'If that's what this is about –'
'It's not about anything,' she snarls. 'I'm pissed that Finnick has turned out to be a soppy hearted bastard. I'm pissed that you, of all people, have thrown him out of whack. I don't know what the fuck you did to him, but I've never – I've never seen him like this before.' She's breathing hard, her eyes burning.
'I care about him too,' I say, 'I promise, I would never hurt him.'
'Too fucking late, Annie,' says Johanna, swinging herself round so she's sitting upright, fixing me with her gaze across the table. 'The whole of Panem knows the rumors about you two. And you can bet President Shitting Snow finds it wonderfully interesting that Finnick Odair is keeping you in his own house.'
Oh, I am so, so stupid. I'm going to vomit.
'Yeah,' snaps Johanna, 'Exactly.'
I shake my head, and for a moment I stare out the window without really seeing.
'If you actually care about him,' Johanna says, 'You need to stay the fuck away from him.'
She's right. I should stay far, far away. Not be seen with Finnick ever again. Not endanger the precarious balance he's carved out for himself in the Capitol, where everyone wants him and he wants no-one. The balance that makes him appear untouchable. The only thing that keeps them believing they don't actually have the power to hurt him.
We sit in silence for a few moments.
'Are you and Vamos together?' I ask.
Johanna snorts. 'Please.'
'Did you ever… have someone?'
Johanna re-crosses her legs, and looks away.
'Do you ever…' I swallow. 'Can you ever…'
'No,' she says. 'Because if they knew I cared, they would kill her.'
Of everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, it's this that makes the tears finally come. I blink furiously until they subside. The snarl on Johanna's face dares me to give her platitudes, sympathy, so that she has an excuse to loathe me for all of eternity.
'Someday, this won't happen anymore.' I'm not sure if I'm talking to Johanna or myself. 'The Games. The way they treat you and Finnick and all of the other Victors. There'll be change.'
Johanna laughs. It's bitter and uncomfortable. I make a decision.
'I know you and Finnick have been searching for other people who want political reform,' I say, 'Some sort of … movement. I met someone who agrees with you. Someone with influence. She wanted me to talk to Finnick about it. There are more like her,' I don't smile at her, because I know she wouldn't like it. But my voice is pure conviction. 'There really is hope that all of this will change.'
And I want to be part of that hope.
Johanna stares at me, a muscle in her jaw working furiously. 'What, you think we could just have a nice chat with the President, and persuade him to stop sending children to their deaths?' She begins to pour herself a third glass of whisky. 'To be honest, suit yourself. I'd love to watch those Capitol brats being eaten alive in the Arena.'
'You don't mean that,' I say automatically.
Johanna smirks. 'Oh, I do.'
This is what they do to us. I stare at my tumbler of whiskey, still untouched on the table in front of me. In one quick movement, I swallow it down. Amber liquid burns my throat, sharpens my resolve.
'I'm not going to stay away from Finnick,' I say. 'But I'm not stupid. I won't compromise his position. I won't get in the way of his life or his lovers. If I need to, I'll stay here. But I won't lie down and take this… threat. Not from you, or anyone. They've taken more than enough from us already. Let them see that he isn't theirs, and he never was.'
Johanna puts her glass down. 'Well, well.'
'But I need your help.'
She narrows her eyes. 'Here we go.'
'I know about what happened to your family,' I say. And I'm so, so sorry. 'I'm worried about mine.'
Johanna's face is white. I take a deep breath, because I am about to make the most selfish request of my life.
'If I do this,' I say, 'If something… goes wrong. If things become too dangerous, if they have to get away quickly. Will you help me keep them safe?'
Johanna stares at me, and taps her nails against the side of her glass.
'You're asking me,' she says. 'To stick out my neck to help you.' She sneers. 'Because I have nothing to lose.'
Because we both have everything to lose. 'Because I trust you.'
The nail tapping is a thin, high pitched ringing. The look in her eyes could be hatred. She stands abruptly. 'I'm getting out of here.'
I stand too, and she pushes past me towards the door. I pick up her holdall, and follow her into the corridor. Mags peeks out of the kitchen, catches my eye then blithely turns away as though nothing is happening.
'Johanna,' I begin.
She turns around, one hand on the open front door. I pass her the holdall.
'I'll do it,' she snarls. 'But not for you. And don't ask me again.'
My chest uncoils in relief. I reach out and touch her shoulder. 'Thank you,' I say.
She tenses like a cat, and her upper lip quivers. I pull back my hand.
'Cute, virginal and also a fucking moron,' Johanna says. She leans in and before I can react, she kisses me. And then she bites down on my lower lip, hard. I gasp, tasting blood, and jerk back.
Johanna laughs.
My lips still sting as she waltzes her way back down the path. 'By the way, Annie,' she calls, stopping at the gate. Her grin is all teeth. 'Congratulations on your first kill.'
I won't reply to that. I'm still not sure what to think of Johanna Mason, but I do know that I'm not afraid of her any more.
The deep, reverberating hum of the train lowers in tone and then fades beneath my feet. I stand before the sleek metal doors, small suitcase in one hand and Ambrosia's hat in the other. The dress I wear is from Ambrosia too: white and long sleeved, creamy lace over a loosely shaped bodice falling into an ankle length skirt. I wear my bangs down and my hair brushed straight over my shoulders.
I kissed Mags' cheek, and left her with a bouquet of beach ferns and the knowledge that I'd see her soon. My parting with my family wasn't a forever goodbye this time, but my father still cried on the platform. It was shock, more than anything, because I made my decision only yesterday.
The doors open, and my stomach clenches. Autumn has already reached the mountain ranges of the north west, and cool, damp air runs through my hair as I step down onto the platform.
'It's her! She's here!' Lights flash in my face. People calling my name from the edges of the platform. I didn't tell anyone that I was coming, but I don't expect privacy or secrecy. Not anymore. My stomach churns. Too many people. Too many faces. But I can keep calm – I will be calm. They will not see me have a breakdown. Not again, anyway.
I hold my head high, a polite smile on my face, and walk as Ophelia taught me. Strong, calm and poised. I'm a Victor, and I have every right to be here.
I have every right to visit the Capitol whenever I want.
'Annie?'
Finnick. Finnick stands on the platform. I guess that explains the paparazzi. When our eyes meet, it's just as overwhelming as the first time I saw him. He stares at me, hair mussed as though he's been running his hands through it. As though he's just climbed up out of the ocean, or out of someone else's bed. He's wearing a deep green polo neck, wool that fits smoothly to the lean curves of his shoulders.
He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
'I never thought you would come back,' he says, walking towards me slowly, each step and word measured and calm. But his lips are parted, and I can sense the tension in the way he holds his hands, long fingers slightly curled. 'Not back here. But I called Mags and…' He comes to a stop in front of me. There's a freckle on his cheekbone from the last of the summer heat, already fading back into the gold of his skin. His eyes run up my dress, back to my face. Dazed. 'Annie…what are you doing here?'
I place down my suitcase beside me. He really can't imagine it, after everything. This kind, gorgeous man still cannot believe that I could want him. That I could love him. When every logical fiber in my body says it is ludicrous for him to love me.
'Finnick,' I say softly, and I put everything I have into those syllables, looking up into his sea-green eyes. 'I'm here to be with you.'
The first light touch of rain tickles my cheek, and I breathe in his scent. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, as though he's about to speak again. Instead, he leans down and kisses me.
A hundred camera lights go off, shrieks and shouts. In front of all of Panem, Finnick Odair is kissing me. His lips are warm and dry, and I am right where I need to be. One hand brushes mine, and I interlock our fingers. I smile as we pull apart, and he rests our foreheads together.
'Annie,' he says, his voice dazed, 'You're incredible. I don't know what I'm going to do.'
'Wherever you want me to be,' I say, 'I'll be there.'
We leave the station hand in hand, past overdressed commuters who whisper and stare. The huge, ugly towers of the Capitol crowd out the sky above us. The paparazzi follow in a small crowd, crowing out his name, demanding another kiss, circling. Finnick doesn't seem to notice. He's still gazing at me, grinning. Six or seven photographers block our way on the sidewalk, and a dark suited man elbows his way through towards us. 'Darius,' I smile, and he tilts his head, gestures towards a car parked at the curb. Finnick finally responds to the paparazzi, laughing at something one of them has said before giving the sort of smile that makes the joker go quiet, and the rest take a few steps back. I squeeze his hand a little tighter.
We slide into the leather seats of the back and Darius shuts the door on the noise, pulling silently out into the road. I can breathe again, although amongst the chaos of the station, the alien cityscape dripping with metal and glass that surrounds me, the pressure of keeping back the chattering voices in my mind sets a headache growing.
And yet, there's a well of joy beneath the tightness in my chest. I am right where I need to be. Finnick takes my trembling hand. He kisses me again, deeper this time, and the joy pools outwards, warmth soothing and loosening my muscles. His hand trails over my chest. I want to run my fingers across his waist, feel the skin under his shirt. Later.
I rest my head on his shoulder, and he plants a kiss in my hair. I close my eyes, and let my body be rocked by the motion of the car.
'I'm scared, Annie,' Finnick whispers, 'For everything that's coming.'
'Me too,' I reply.
Rain beats against the window. Outside, block after block of glass towers and marble monoliths skim by, figures struggling onwards under vibrantly colored umbrellas. I catch a glimpse of mountains looming under the darkening sky before the car sweeps down into an underpass.
'Darius,' Finnick says in the dark, 'Where are you going? We'll have to pass under the whole lake now.'
Darius turns towards us, his face bathed in alternate bars of yellow light and shadow as the car continues through the tunnel. He holds something out to Finnick – a small, cubic device with a dome of glass on one surface. Like something you might find jumbled in the back of the hardware store back home. Old tech.
Darius locks eyes with each of us for a long moment, and Finnick takes the device. There's a slight tremble in his fingers.
A light on the cube blinks on, and throws up a projection – a shaky, two-dimensional hologram. The picture sharpens into a woman with a sharp collar and hair the color of iron.
'Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta,' says the woman, her voice crackling, tinny. 'So glad to finally catch you at a moment where our channels won't be detected.' She smiles, and it makes me shiver.
'My name is Alma Coin. Welcome to the resistance.'
The End
Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has read this far, and to all of you lovely wonderful people who left a review - you are AMAZING and every single one makes my day. Love you all and I hope you enjoyed Finnick and Annie's story. They fought damn hard for it and they deserve their happy ending. :) 3