chapter five

Week pass, and now they have a home together: one tiny cell of a room, one bed. On the first of the month Annie comes home early from her head doctor – claimed nausea and a headache, a combination she'd always proclaimed to be lethal (lethal as – what, Johanna, Katniss, Cashmere, all of these violent women Annie will never never be as sexy as?). Craves a nap, feels almost animalistic in her desire for a quick & easy hibernation.

First, though? A shower.

Finnick doesn't seem to be home yet – some meeting with Coin, maybe? he's always having those, she's never invited – so Annie strips off her clothes carelessly, flings them around the room, has power. A shower, yes – steamy and warm, maybe warm enough to wash off this awful, embarrassing schedule from her arm that has therapy from 9-5 like she's an imbecile.

Annie is just opening the door when-

"Oh my god! Oh my god, oh my god I'm so sorry."

(And there's Finnick, eyes shut, humming quietly, and very clearly jerking off.)

Annie jams the door shut but not before he pops his eyes open, surprised, and sees her whole naked, exposed body and Annie is mortified, tries to grab anything to cover her and Annie is panicking, sits down on the floor with her back to the door, does deep breaths.

After a few minutes, a strained voice calls out: "Annie?"

"I'm sorry!" she calls back. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. Embarrassing. Yikes." His voice is closer to her now, must be just on the other side of the door. "You okay? You seem…"

She ignores him. She wishes she could be Johanna, could strip down and be hilarious and sexy and smart. She wishes she could be Katniss, all smolder and fire and fierceness. She even wishes she could be Cashmere, with ropes of blonde hair and big breasts and too many lovers to count.

She wishes her reaction wasn't to jerk away but to jump in with him, to finish him off, to be sexy and wild and exciting instead of anxious and weird. She wishes she and Finnick hadn't last made love the night before the Quarter Quell. She wishes she could masturbate, too, instead of still being afraid of her own body.

Annie tries to be the Famous Finnick Odair. She musters up her courage. Stands up, juts out her hip, tosses her hair back, pushes her breasts forward, places her hand just so, and opens the door.

He's looking at her in shock & horror when she says, her voice high like a baby doll or a Capitol woman, "Should I join you in there, baby?"

Finnick's reaction is immediate. "Don't ever talk like that. Annie? Don't you ever do that." He puts his head in his hands, squeezes his eyes shut. "What did I do? You sound like…" (A slut? A whore?) "You sound like me. Stop that. Look at me. Okay? Here's a towel. You want to shower? You should go for it. I can guard the door like I usually do. Don't ever talk like that again."

"Finnick?" She takes the towel gratefully, wraps it around herself. "Finnick, I'm sorry. Finnick, will you have sex with me?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Will you. Have sex? With me? Will you have sex with me?"

He leans against the sink, eyes shut again. "Annie, what's going on?"

"Nothing I just nothing I um I just I feel so I feel so inadequate." The words bubble out, frantic and exhausted, and then she's crying a little, softly, tears streaming, shoulders heaving.

"Hey now." He moves to hug her, then stops short – the bare skin of shoulders. Wraps another towel around her before he embraces her. This way, no skin touches skin. "Hey now. Shhh. S'okay sweetheart. You're okay."

Annie places her face in the cleft of his neck, tries not to weep. "I don't wanna be okay. I wanna be more than okay. I wanna be able to give this to you."

"Sex isn't…"

"What, Finnick? What're you going to tell me? Sex isn't giving and taking?" She whips her head back. "That's a fucking joke."

"Don't be like that."

"You give sex all the time. I want to give you sex."

Finnick yanks a hand through his hair. "You've never even called it that before."

"What?"

"Sex. You've always called it 'making—"

"Maybe I'm growing up, then!" Annie crosses her arms over her chest, angry tears clustering again god, she hates it, I hate it I hate it why do I always have to cry? "Maybe I'm trading in the art of badassery now." She stands up abruptly. "You want me don't you don't you want me?"

Drops the towel. Finnick lurches back, practically throws it back at her.

"Yes! Yes I want you! Of course I want you!" Now he's almost pulling at his hair. "What the hell is going on, Annie?"

"I'm trying to do something nice for you."

"And I'm telling you – I don't want you to give me sex, that's not what I want."

"Because you don't want me."

"No! No. Because I don't want you like that."

"Like that? Like sexy, like beautiful, right because you want me like sweetheart, like baby, like love—"

"I don't want you like a goddamn object! You're more than just an object. I've been trying to—" (Here he groans, yanks at his hair again.) "I've been trying to keep you from being turned into a fucking object. They made you their object anyway, I couldn't save you from that but I won't make you an object again I won't I won't."

I won't I won't. I won't make you an object again.

Annie whispers, "I'm sorry." Annie whispers, "Okay. Okay."

I won't make you an object again.

"Everyone here is a soldier, Finn," she murmurs. "I'm not like that. I want to be like that but I'm just not."

"And being a soldier means having a lot of sex you don't want to have? Some war."

"It means being tough. It means being Katniss, or Johanna…"

"But I'm not in love with Katniss. And I'm not in love with Johanna. You're gentle, I'm in love with you. You're gentle with me. I love you."

She sinks onto the bed, still clutching the towel. Because they aren't married, it's bunk beds – they sleep spooned on the top, where it's safer from harm. "I'm not valuable here."

"You're valuable to me."

Annie feels herself fading fast, shuts her eyes tightly. "I want to be valuable beyond you."

"Annie…"

And there it is – the sound of swords hitting flesh, too much stress, cannons, Annie clamps her hands tight over her ears.

Valuable valuable valuable

("Now Annie, what do you think will be your most valuable asset in the Games?") ("God dammit, I wish I had a valuable ally! I'm supposed to be with the Careers, Annie! Not some girl…")

("Dear Miss Cresta, what do you think a girl like you is really valuable for beyond that…body of yours…")

Flashes of what Nolan screaming at her in the arena, berating her before slice and also her interview and the spot in the cell in the Capitol what slice and also flash and there, so valuable, so—

"Hey there, hey there, come back to me, come back to me…"

Annie slowly drifts back to reality. There's Finnick, spooning her on the bottom bunk, singing into her ear and gripping her hands tightly so she can't scratch herself, both of them naked. "Hey there, hey my love. Come back to me."

"Mmm… Finn?"

"Hi darling. Can we do a run-down? Please?"

Annie feels so tried after a spell, pulls his arms around her tightly, moans a little.

"Tell me who you are."

"Annie."

"Annie what?"

"Annie Cresta."

"And who am I?"

"Finn."

"Annie…"

"Finnick Odair. Victor-lover-killer-boyfriend…" (Still out of it, still floating somewhere like Four, some ocean, the hands splaying out, the legs wafting…)

"And where are we?"

"Mm… do I have to?"

He strokes the hair, kisses the cheek. "Yes. You have to."

"You said you wouldn't force me…"

"Annie, do you know where we are?" She can hear the panic rising, the way his voice heightens in pitch.

"13."

"And are we safe?"

"Dunno are you gonna get hard."

"Annie..."

"Yes. I guess. We're sort of. Safe."

"Are you feeling unsafe?"

"Can you please just lay off me for one minute."

"You know why we do this, don't you?"

"Why."

Finnick's voice is tight, hard. "Because you have stress-induced audio hallucinations and post-traumatic-stress triggered flashbacks. Because you have been known to have episodes in which you self-harm and occasionally become violent. Because sometimes you come to and don't know where you are. That. Is why."

"We're safe, then." All of the sudden, his embrace feels like a vice. "Do you think Peeta does this to Katniss Everdeen, Finnick? I bet you he doesn't. I bet he never would."