annie cresta odair (themadgirl) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2012-11-25 21:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, annie cresta, finnick odair |
Log: Annie & Finnick Odair
Who: Annie & Finnick Odair
When: Early evening of November 25th
Where: Potts Tower, specifically the Odair abode
What: An emotional reunion after months of separation filled with explanations and surprises. Etc, etc.
Rating: Disney
By the time Annie was being led to what they had told her would be her new home, she was confused. Very confused. Only a short while earlier, she had been sitting on her beach with the wind blowing over her and the house just behind her. Now she was in this strange building, filled with strange people who were all asking her strange questions that she had a feeling they already knew the answers to. It was the way they would look at her screens whenever she said something; it was as though they were just verifying whatever they already knew was fact. They told her that there were others from her world, whatever that meant. It didn't occur to Annie to ask exactly who until she was being excused. It was just too much to take in. She had been taken from District Four to... what did they call it - New York City? Potts Tower? They had even said that the year was 2012, which was so far in the past that Annie couldn't even remember being taught about it in any sort of significance when she was in school. It was before Panem. It was mind-boggling, which left Annie thinking that maybe it was easiest to just go along with it. What else was there to do? Quite suddenly, Annie ran into the back of the man that had been leading her through the building. Shaking her head once to clear it, she sputtered out something that could have sounded like an apology, but she was still too caught up in her thoughts. He assured her that it was fine, then quickly explained that she had a card that would act as both a key to the building and as an ID. That was what she had been clutching in her hands the entire walk up, she realized. He let Annie stare at it for a few long seconds before explaining further, even demonstrating how to use it. It was kind of him, although she was certain that she would forget. There was no need to tell him that, though. By the time he left, she wasn't sure if she was relieved or not. Hesitating just a moment, Annie took a breath and opened the door to what was apparently her new home. The home itself was very nice in a vague way - white walls, comfortable furniture that had been tastefully selected, once upon a time. There were no personal photographs, although someone had taken the time to purchase and hang a large painting of the sea, its deep blues and grays both familiar and sad. Finnick was home and sitting on the couch; the television wasn’t on, nor the radio. He sat Indian-style, his head in his hands, waiting for something to happen. It wasn’t a good day or a bad day. Just a day. Yesterday hadn’t been very good - he’d gotten arrested (bad) due to forgetting his pants (worse), but today he’d maintained his clothing and his sanity pretty well, all things considered. He might even venture out to socialize with Katniss, newly arrived from Panem. Finnick may have not been in the arena for a while, but his senses were sharp - when the door opened, he looked up sharply, a slightly-wild look in his eye. Five months here, and he was still paranoid about when the shoe would drop, ready to tackle the next Tribute to the ground. What he hadn’t anticipated was seeing the pale and confused face of Annie. His Annie. His wife, and desperate love. “Annie?” he asked, his eyes going wide and although he’d heard the expression before, he’d never understood what people meant when they said that their heart skipped a beat. He’d been wanting to see her for months now, scanning all the new arrivals for a face that was hers. And now here she was standing only a few feet away and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. "Finnick." When Annie spoke, her voice was something between a gasp and a whisper. It had been nearly four months since she had seen her husband last and most of them had been filled with her understanding and adjusting to the fact that he was taken from her again, this time permanently. They had told her that there were others from Panem, but this -- Finnick. That was too much a hope for her to ever begin to entertain. But there he was, sitting on the couch. Annie initially thought that she had been stunned too much to be able to move, but then her feet began without her even realizing until she was on the other side of the room, her arms flying around him tightly. He’d stood while she was running toward him, his arms rising to meet her as she fell against him. He’d been expecting air, a shadow, a vision and then nothing, but she was warm and real and solid in his clutch. Finnick wasn’t sure what to do with her once she had so perfectly materialized except hold her tightly against him, pressing his face against her hair, her neck, breathing her in and leaving tears from his lashes where he kissed. “Annie,” he said again, and then pulled away only just, his forehead to hers. “The Tesseract - it brought you here? It did me months ago. It’s been forever. I’ve missed you so much, I’ve-” He was about to babble, he realized, and he remembered their old care with which they handled each other: give time, quiet, and comfort when things looked bleak. What now? He might have been about to babble, but his voice sounded so good to Annie that she wouldn't dream of stopping him. She took in a deep breath, her eyes closed as she just enjoyed the familiarity of his arms and warmth, before she backed away just enough to be able to bring her hands to his face, her eyes taking him in. He was there, he was all right, and she couldn't believe it. "I haven't seen you for almost four months," she finally said quietly. Did he know that... what had happened, happened? She didn't know. She didn't want to ask him, either. “Five, here. Beat you,” he said with a ghost of his old grin, his fingers tracing her cheek and just revelling in how she looked. It didn’t matter that she appeared so tired, so shell-shocked. She was beautiful, the key that could turn him from living to alive. Her eyes were searching his and he anticipated her unspoken question: “I know. About what happened,” he said, his words coming quickly. “I know that I-- I’m so sorry that I left you, Annie; I didn’t want to -I didn’t want to die, no one ever does, but-- I know, I was told that I died, and that you were alone, and I tried to be okay here, I really tried, but it was awful. It wasn’t as bad as when you were captured by the Capitol, but you were worlds away this time. Worlds. And no one knows how people come here. They just do. So every time new people came, I asked: did you see Annie? But no one ever did...” As she listened to him speak, Annie's hands circled around, catching behind his neck as though she was keeping him tethered to her. She couldn't imagine what he had been going through; it was terrible enough having him dead on her end, but to have to live with uncertainty day in and out... Hope could be a wonderful thing, but having it dashed repeatedly was just painful. "I'm here now," she said simply, giving him just a flash of a small smile. "And -- and it's not your fault. What happened. So... don't -- it's okay. I know you. You wouldn't just leave me." He looked her up and down, trying to see any sort of flaw or tell in her that would indicate that she wasn’t real. But she was perfect. Finnick had always been a little unstable after the Games, but it manifested itself differently than it had in Annie. He had never hallucinated... but he was a little worried that now he was. Well. There were worse hallucinations. “Come in, come sit, I-- this is our home, now,” he said, releasing his breath in a rush. “I mean, I’ve been here since July. Almost five months, now. It’s so much better than Panem; you can say things and write things out and talk about the government and-- there’s no Games here...” That all sounded too good to be true to Annie. To live in a world where they didn't have to watch everything they said and did, where a government didn't dictate so much of their lives and a rebellion wasn't necessary; that was a baffling thought. He was echoing what the people that had greeted her had said as well, though. They didn't tell her again and again just how safe she was, like the head doctor had in District Thirteen, but it was implied. "They knew who I was," she said, her brow furrowed as she sat, one leg tucked under her. "They asked questions, but it was like they already knew." Remembering something, she looked at Finnick and quickly added, "They said there were others here. From Panem." He nodded, swallowing quickly as he went through the thoughts one by one, positioning them inside his head until he thought they might make sense. “There are. Katniss came in just yesterday. There’s Gale, too. Peeta. Prim. You remember her, Katniss’s little sister?” There was no softening the next part: “Annie, here - in this world - our lives are stories. Legends. Written down in books for entertainment.” His face twisted; the people of Earth were so like those in Panem in that regard - finding interest in violence. It kept this place from being an unbelievable paradise, maybe. “Some think we’re just fictional characters. That’s how they know who we are - they’ve read our story.” Confusion flooded Annie's face, something that wasn't all too odd for her. While it was a relief to know that there were others, especially Katniss, Peeta, and Prim (Prim! Another that had been gone just hours before), what he was saying seemed almost too much to comprehend. She needed a moment to work through it. They had been brought to a place where they thought they were from books. They weren't real. How could that even be? "That doesn't..." she started, then shook her head once. It explained a lot, but it still seemed so impossible. Not that her walking into a bright light and landing in a strange building that wasn't her beach had started to seem possible, just yet. She was willing to believe it, though, if only because it brought Finnick back to her. Reaching up with one hand to distractedly run her fingers through her hair, she finally managed, "Oh." Then, after a moment, she asked, "You believe it?" “I don’t believe in anything; it’s all a story to me,” he answered, shaking his head with a slightly-hysterical laugh. “Everything from the day that I first heard my name called to be in the Games. It’s just been one thing after another.” Finnick grasped for her hand, and finding it, pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I don’t care if it’s a story,” he said after a moment of silence. “If this is how we’re supposed to end up, I’ll take it. Let this be our story, ending up here.” He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. “How long was I-- gone?” How long were you alone? That was enough for Annie. They were both their own sort of damaged, but Finnick's word had always been enough for her. Besides that, she couldn't help but agree. He was here, they were together, and that was all she needed. "About three and a half months," she replied, her free hand coming up so her fingers could gently brush his face. "After the -- after the war was over and we'd won, I went back to Four. With Capri, that woman I worked with in the kitchen at Thirteen. The house was still standing, somehow. Just... a bit damaged, but nothing we couldn't fix." She didn't mention how empty it felt without her parents filling the rooms, without him. That seemed obvious. Capri had always said that it would be busy enough in a few months -- which reminded Annie. Tipping his face slightly so she could meet his eye, she asked, "Did they -- did you..." She didn't know how to phrase the question, wondering what the people here had said or he had heard. Finally, she just decided, "I'm pregnant. Did you know that?" No, he hadn’t. The words fell upon Finnick’s ears and exploded somewhere within his brain. Pregnant. That meant baby. That was how things worked, if they worked at all. Annie being pregnant explained a lot. Those that had read the books had seemingly taken a particular sympathy toward him, one that he knew couldn’t entirely be blamed on human compassion or his own good looks. There was always a slight tint of knowing something that he didn’t just out of reach, but it hadn’t been his world, so he hadn’t asked. His world had ended at the teeth of the lizard mutts. To ask about anything more than Annie’s welfare hadn’t occurred to him. A baby. It was a terrible idea. Finnick couldn’t even care for himself here, and Annie had never been the epitome of stability. How would they deal with something so helpless? A baby. It was a wonderful idea. “I didn’t know,” he said softly, letting his face curl into an unfamiliar smile. “I didn’t -- how long? Three and a half months,” he answered his own question. “I-- that’s amazing, Annie.” His smile coaxed one out of Annie, slow and warm. The baby had been a terrifying prospect that she'd yet to completely come to terms with at home and being here hadn't changed anything at a snap of the finger, but she did feel a sudden sense of contentment that she wasn't going to be doing it alone anymore. She had been so terrified that they would deem her unfit, but that might not be the case now. "Nearly four," she clarified, her hand dropping to her stomach. Her gaze fell as well, as she flattened her sweatshirt against her body. She had started to show in the past couple of weeks, but it wasn't anything drastic. Yet. Annie looked back to Finnick. "It really is pretty amazing." “I don’t believe it. A baby,” he repeated, and when he laughed, it was less-hysterical and more wondering, one of his hands moving to her stomach, cupping it lightly. “Can you believe that? They put death in our hands and we made a baby.” It seemed almost too good to be true. He glanced back up to her eyes and smiled tremulously. “Have you been looked after by the healers here? They’re good.” "Just the ones when I came in," she replied, shaking her head. That had been the first time it occurred to Annie that maybe they knew more about her than they were letting on. When she said that she was pregnant, there had hardly been any reaction. "I should. Soon. They gave me some medicine in Four, to help the baby grow. I need those again." There was something she had to do first, though, before any of that. (Leaving the room seemed a bit too daunting after the day's events anyway.) Bringing her hands up to Finnick's face again, she leaned in to kiss him softly. How she hadn't done that the moment she first saw him was beyond her. At her touch, he froze for just a hair of a second before melting against her, kissing her back with the sort of passion that bordered somewhere between sweet and crazy. That was their border, after all, and one that had been analyzed to death by the therapist that Stark’s people had suggested he visit. Finnick didn’t think he’d bother with the therapist in the future -- or wait, maybe he would. He wanted to be the best version of himself for this baby. For this family. “We’ll go later,” he said, and pressed the tip of his finger against her lips very lightly. “Later. I just want to-- enjoy this. For just a little while before we let the world in to pick at our bones, you know?” "Okay," Annie nodded with a slight smile, glad that his words were echoing her thoughts. That had always been how it was for them, though. It didn't come at a surprise, even after months and, apparently, worlds apart. That was just how they worked. Her hand found his and gripped it tightly, bringing his own up so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. Annie's gaze stayed on his face, though, as though she was afraid that he would disappear if she looked away. That was the same reason her fingers were so tight around his; she wasn't going to let it go ever again, if she could help it. "I love you." “I love you,” he said, and realized a breath he had been holding since the Tesseract had dropped him here. Who cared where he was? He was home at last. |