annie cresta (amadgirl) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-01-24 17:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, annie cresta, finnick odair |
Who: Annie Cresta, Finnick Odair
When: Thursday, January 22
Where: Katniss & Finnick's apartment.
What: Finnick comes back from the Secretary Games to find a very pregnant Annie Cresta. Cue massive feelings.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Two severely traumatized people with PTSD. There is a lot of talk of the Games and being tortured.
He knew that Katniss wasn't exactly thrilled that he had decided to partake in the Secretary Games. In truth, he hadn't minded it too much, even the memorable afternoon spent with no pants, until he wound up in the middle of a country he wasn't terribly familiar with. He'd come to understand that this was supposed to be what Panem was like before it was Panem. But that didn't mean that he knew any of the states. Being dropped off in an undisclosed location did smack of the Hunger Games to him, even though he logically knew there were too many differences for there to actually be a comparison. He wasn't in any real danger. He wasn't being told to kill anyone. Still, being on his own in a strange place wasn't what he wanted after finding out that he died not far into his future. He didn't know what he was supposed to feel about, especially because he had left for the Quarter Quell expecting to die. Having survived that, well. He didn't know what to expect. He didn't know if he was surprised or not. What he did know was that he wanted to be near Katniss and Johanna, and he wanted to go on pretending that everything was okay. He wanted to go for his morning runs and for his evening swims, and then spend the rest of the day struggling to find all of the kittens and annoying Katniss about it. But what he wanted and what happened so rarely aligned, which was how he lost an entire day trekking back to New York City, honestly not caring whether or not he won. He just wanted to be in the closest place to home. By the time he made it back to the apartment, he was grimy, tired, and sore. He needed to eat, and probably drink a lot of water, shower, and then hopefully sleep. He didn't know if Katniss had any idea of where he was, and could only hope that she wasn't going to be too upset with him even if it was his fault because he had volunteered. "You're not going to believe what I've been through," Finnick said, exhausted as he came through the door. The cadence of that voice screeched its way through the dullness of this place. She'd spent the last twenty four hours (or so) drifting and ignoring any mention of Finnick. That was how she had to deal. It had been six months since her heart had broken in so many pieces she was beginning to believe she'd never find them all. Part of her didn't want to. Why would she want to forget? She'd live her life, of course, but the shadow of the life she could have had, that she had for such a short time would hang over her forever. She'd touched true happiness; that was something most people in Panem never even got a glimpse of. On autopilot, her head turned, but just as the hazy shape of a person came into view, she stopped herself from turning all the way and jerked her head back. She stared ahead for a few instants longer, unable to tear herself from the television. If she turned around, she knew it would be another person, not him. She knew it. It couldn't be him, and yet how many similar voices had she heard in this giant of a city? How many times had she almost called his name, only to remember that he was gone? She rubbed her burning eyes and squeezed them shut. If she closed them long enough, most people went away. Katniss had left her to her own devices when she disappeared to the store, and Annie hadn't bothered to get up once since she'd gone. Annie couldn't even listen to the fear and paranoia she'd been desperately pushing down since she'd fallen through the stars. There was no one here to help her; she had to do this all on her own, and getting up was a chore and a laugh riot all its own this late in her pregnancy. With her eyes squeezed shut, and her uncertain hands, she turned around to face the voice. She knew that she had to face things head off. She'd struggled for so long, leaned on Finnick's support for so long that she knew she had to do this on her own. She had to know. Moment of truth then. Annie's mouth opened and the tiniest noise of anguish came out as she struggled with what she saw before her. "Finnick! But -- oh Finnick!" Her feet stayed rooted to the ground however. What if he was a ghost? What if this was all in her head? She'd seen things before, things that weren't really there. This could be nothing more than a trick of her mind. Please don't let it be a trick. "Are you real?" He'd turned to face her before she even looked at him, and felt as if he'd been hit over the head. His entire body seemed to fall away and he was aware of nothing else but her. He hadn't anticipated coming home to anyone but Katniss. In truth, he'd never thought about Annie coming here, even after Johanna's very recent arrival. And then, abruptly, she was looking at him, talking to him, and he was still just trying to process that she was here. That she was right in front of him, close enough that he could actually touch her -- and that she was pregnant, the swell of her belly prominent in front of her. She had to be from after he died then, he realized. It felt like the entire world was crashing back down on him, and he wished that he could walk back out the door and give himself a moment to prepare for everything that was happening now. Because he wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with any of this. "I'm here," he forced himself to say, even managing a smile. He wanted to run to her and at the same time, he was afraid to even touch her, as if she would suddenly disappear from underneath his touch if he got too near. She whispered his name again, and this time there were tears in her eyes. His face hadn't changed, twisted or morphed into someone or something else's. It was him. It had to be. The details were so perfect. That was his smile. Those were his eyes. God, how many times had she fallen asleep with some variation of this meeting? Katniss had been mistaken. Finnick hadn't died, and he'd fought his way back. Her hand dropped to rest atop her protruding abdomen. Every day, she watched as she grew larger and larger, knowing that one day, she'd have Finnick's child. A boy, they said. She'd been tempted to name him after his father, but would it be a curse for their child? Finnick had such a terrible life -- the Games, being bought and sold, the Rebellion -- would their child struggle under the weight of that name? As her belly grew, Annie knew what it really meant. That the distance between her and Finnick grew longer. Bittersweet at best. And he hadn't moved toward her. He smiled, yes, but there was something off about this meeting (besides the obvious). How was he alive? Had something happened? "What wouldn't Katniss believe?" His eyes dropped immediately down to where her hand was resting on her stomach. It was too much, he realized. After just learning that he didn't survive the war and scarcely having any time to process it, it was too much to have her standing in front of him, carrying someone else's child. And Finnick hated him, whoever he was. He knew that wasn't fair in the slightest, because he couldn't expect her, couldn't want her to mourn him for the rest of her life. But he loved her so much, had always loved her, and he didn't know how he was expected to have her here and give her up in the same breath. He just -- He wanted to hold her, so badly, but for the first time in years, he didn't know what they were, didn't know where their boundaries were. "What?" he asked, realizing she had asked him a question. He knew he was barely hiding his obvious distress. "Oh. I was across the country yesterday. I had to find my way back." That seemed horribly unimportant now. Nothing could have matter less, other than the hadn't been here when she arrived. He was lucky that Katniss found her, he knew. He wondered where she was now. It hadn't even occurred to her that Annie Cresta turning up pregnant would be a thing that might cause Finnick Odair any sort of distress because of course it had to be his. Her feet shuffled sideways, inching out from the behind the couch so that she could have a clear pathway to him. Maneuvering like this, pregnant, created new and interesting ways to waddle. New paths to dodge objects in the way. There was something wrong with him that she couldn't quite put a finger on. It made her sad to think that it had been long enough that she couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with him. Whatever it was, she knew that she needed to touch him, to make sure that he was real. The apartment wasn't big enough for much more than a hop and a skip (and really, at this stage, she couldn't do much more than that anyway), but that would have to serve as enthusiasm. Annie threw her arms around his neck and leaned against him with all her strength. If this was a dream, then it was a good one and she was going to cling to it until this baby pressed too long on her damn bladder and forced her to wake up. She buried her nose against his neck, laughing under her breath. "I wished every day for you. I missed you so much, Finnick." She was suddenly right there, and he was awash in her. He couldn't do anything but wrap his arms around her in return (her shape was all different, and he didn't know how to accommodate for the bump that was in between them, but it didn't matter). She smelled like his Annie. Sea and cinnamon and vanilla, and her hair was wild against his skin, and he didn't want to do anything other than bury his face against her shoulder and stay there forever. He hadn't seen her since before the Quarter Quell. A lifetime ago, to him. He'd been through an arena, and then he'd been here, knowing that somewhere she was being hurt because he hadn't managed to save her. He and Katniss had made a good go of having a normal life here, doing the things that were expected of them, but it had destroyed him every day she wasn't near. He was precariously close to tears, and he never cried. But he didn't want to lose her. Not here, not back home, not anywhere. When they had first started being them, he had always been so adamant that he could give her up when the time came: and at the beginning, he was always waiting for that time. For her to realize how terrible he was for her, for her to find someone more suited for her. And he'd foolishly thought that he could let her go then, because he'd have been happy with her for a little while, and that was okay. But now that he knew that time did, in fact, happen, that there was nothing he could do to change it, he didn't want to give her up at all. He didn't care if she was with someone else, because he loved her, and that would never change. "I missed you," Finnick echoed back, even though he knew it was different, what they were saying. He was dead. She never broke contact, even as she withdrew just enough to look at him. Still the same. Every single line and mark. That crooked smile. Those few curls in his hair that refused to lie down. His shoulders. It was like coming home, looking at him, and it struck her just how hollow she'd been these past six months. He'd died once, and she learned that she could hurt in ways she never thought were possible. Some days, she wished she'd been killed in the Hunger Games so she wouldn't have to feel that way ever again. Even the baby couldn't sway her (and she knew how horrible that sounded). Her hands lovingly cupped his face, desperate to make sure that this was no trick, desperate to keep contact, desperate to not let go. Tears tracked down her face, and even though she could taste the salt at the corners of her mouth, she refused to swipe them. It meant taking her hands away from him. It meant breaking this moment. "I've got you back," she cried with a broad smile. Annie kissed the side of his face over and over again. "I've got you back." Finnick let her touch him however she needed to. He couldn't have imagined if this situation was reversed, if he was the one who was dealing with the actual loss of her. (He wouldn't survive it. That was all he knew. He had barely survived knowing that she was in the Capitol. Her death would have destroyed him.) "I'm right here," he said, quietly reassuring. He cupped his hand over top one of hers and turned his face to kiss the inside of her palm. The only thing that gave him pause was the ring she wore, simple and yet perfect for her, on her left hand. He stared, an instant too long, but then looked back at her. His throat felt too tight; he knew he should ask. Another glint of gold around her neck caught his attention: She wore a matching, larger ring around her neck. He reached for it without thinking, the weight of it falling into his palm as he mind struggled to keep up with what was happening. The ring around her neck had never been taken off. Not since Finnick gave it to her before he went off to fight in the Capitol. When she got the news, buried deep in the pit of anguish she'd felt, was the knowledge that she should have known when he left it with her. She didn't believe he had a death wish for one second, but the quiet reminder of what he had to come home to... Maybe it would have helped. Even now, she was hesitant to remove the necklace. "You'll be needing this back." Her voice cracked with effort. This was like losing your token in the Hunger Games or leaving behind a security blanket as a child. Annie had to keep reminding herself that it wasn't hers to keep. She'd just been minding it until Finnick came back, and here he was. "I…?" Finnick started to say, but couldn't manage it. He looked up at her, his surprise open on his face. They'd always worn things they'd made for each other, some of it close to matching. But he knew better. These were wedding rings. His brain only managed to make it about that far before stalling out though, too scared to follow the train of what that meant for fear of losing it. Instead, he just waited, needing her to spell it out for him. He kept the ring in the palm of his hand, the metal starting to warm from where it was in contact with his skin. There was a pause in which Annie's smile faded as quickly as it had come. Finnick was her rock. He was the one to ask if things became hazy. If he didn't know what this was, was it -- was it real? Was she still being tortured in the Capitol? Did she create some elaborate story in her head to survive it? "We're married..." Doubt crept into her voice. "I remember our wedding." The early onset of panic cracked her expression. She hadn't had one of these attacks since -- well, it had been a while. "I remember it. Was it real?" We're married. It was the logical conclusion from her telling him that the ring was his, and still it hit him hard. Almost as hard as her presence here. Not being allowed to get married was something he'd had to accept even to be with her. Their future together had always been limited: nothing too open, no marriage, no children. But here she was, telling him that they got married sometime before he died. It felt his chest equally with happiness and sorrow: At some point in his life, she was the only one he belonged to. They were able to love each other openly. And he lost that. "Annie," he said, pressing his hands back up to her face, trying to stave off the impending panic in her voice, which he knew wasn't going to be easy. "Look at me, okay? I'm not from the same time as you, but you're safe here, and you know what's real." It was an overwhelming enough of a thing to explain, and he was afraid that it was going to be too much for her entirely. Which he didn't want. He wanted her to tell him about how they were married -- and if she was still wearing his wedding ring, why was she pregnant? He needed her to stay with him. Annie locked her wide eyes on Finnick's, searching for the truth there. Her thumb turned her wedding ring around her finger. It wasn't quite like knotting rope or creating something pretty, but it had the desired effect. The ring on her finger was as real as the finger beneath it. The creeping doubt lingered, though, and her smile didn't make a reappearance. "You're younger?" Her brows creased in confusion. She didn't understand what it meant, not really. Younger? Not the same time? How was that possible? "Like Katniss?" "I'm younger," he answered, nodding. "Like Katniss." He could only hope that Katniss had gone a good job of explaining that Annie had listened and understood. He didn't know. But she had an idea of what was happening, so he supposed that would be a good start pointing. At the same time, he felt guilty: He was taking something away from her and he hadn't even realized it until just now. If she hadn't known he was younger until just now, she had thought that he'd come back from dying. And he hadn't. He might have been here, the same man that she had always loved, but he didn't have all the memories that she had. They could only move forward here: Back home, her life was still only her own. He couldn't ever go back. He wasn't aware of their marriage, so it had been a few months from before his death. At least. Those two months were some of the happiest of her life. How could such a short amount of time have the more wonderful, beautiful memories and then crash just as suddenly. Nothing about that world was fair. She struggled for a few moments with herself, lost in her memories, happy and sad, and then began to wonder how much younger he was. Then it dawned on her. Depending on how young he was, all of this -- their love, their wedding, her pregnancy -- might be too much. He might not be ready for it, and God forbid, he wouldn't want it. Those were very real fears. She'd discovered she was pregnant while Finnick was gone, but not dead, and worried over how to tell him, when to tell him, what he would think? Children of Victors often had hard times between the ages of 12 and 18, and if the rebels hadn't won.... "How much younger?" Finnick faltered, because while it should have been an easy question, he knew the answer was going to distress her. How couldn't it? Everything littered around it was painful, from their separation before the Quell to his in the Quell to discovering she was trapped in the Capitol. But there was no easy way around it. "Right after the Quell," he answered quietly. He left one hand pressed against her face, but the other he reached down, grabbing her own hand in turn. They had always been anchors to each other, and he could only hope that he was still up to the task here, months younger than she had expected him to be or not. Right on cue, Annie's face fell even further into despair. Her eyes squeezed shut as everything came rushing back at her. There was nothing but pain for her in that time. Losing Finnick and Mags to the Games had been almost as bad as the months of torture at the hands of the Capitol, hearing the screams of misery and suffering. She would have covered her ears, if only Finnick didn't have her hand. She rested her forehead against his. "They took me," she whispered in a hurried, hushed tone. A vision of the red haired girl forced its way into her mind. A memory. Her heart had given out, Annie heard one of the guards say. It was a pity, she heard them say. There were things they wanted to do. A wad of emotion burrowed deep inside. "They -- they -- they kept trying to kill you over and over again in my head." And then they succeeded. Having experience with the feeling hadn't made it any easier. The Quell, though. She was a mentor. It was her duty to make sure that her tributes were looked after. "Are you hurt? Do you need tending?" He leaned his forehead back against hers as she closed the space between them. He watched her quietly, but with open worry. "You're here with me," he told her softly when she started to talk about the Capitol hurting her. "We're safe." He ran his thumb over the inside of her palm in small, gentle circles, trying desperately to actually keep her here with him. "No, I'm fine," Finnick answered. He almost added that he had been here for weeks, and thought of the ragged scar that he had inflicted upon himself when he'd removed his own tracker. But that was for later. It would be too much now and wasn't that important. "Nobody's trying to hurt us here," he said again, hoping that the repetition would make the message stick. Just being like this with him again, no matter the conversation, was soothing. Whatever memories were forcing their way to the surface could not dig in and get a hold on her. His voice grounded her in the reality of the situation: no matter what time period he was from, he was here. "Nobody's trying to hurt us here. We're safe," she repeated. It was something that might become a mantra here. It wasn't easy to the shake the physical effects of panic and anxiety, so despite the deep breaths and his touch, Annie was still shaking a little. Her fingers latched onto his hand tightly, while the other hand reached for the necklace with the ring. Her fist closed around it, as it often did, until she could feel the indent in her palm. "We weren't married where you're from. I can keep this for when you're ready." She hoped that was soon, though. She wasn't looking forward to having this baby alone. "I understand." "We're married when you're from," Finnick repeated, and this time, he did nothing to hide the happiness the mere idea brought him. He didn't know if he should -- didn't know if he was allowed, really -- but, all the same, he leaned in and kissed her. Properly. The way he had wanted to do the moment he had realized that it was her standing here. He'd been missing her for so long, and at the heart of it, he wanted everything else to fade away. The Quell, her being in the Capitol, him dying. How could any of that matter when they were finally reunited? (It did, he knew. Them being reunited had always helped to calm those terrible fears, but it didn't change the fact that she had lived through horrors that he was only beginning to learn about.) "We get married," he breathed out again when he broke the kiss, still leaning his forehead against hers. She felt like a morphling addict. One kiss wasn't enough; she had to steal another one. And another. If she had her way, they'd never stop. Without the knowledge of their time differences out in the open, he was opening up more. Annie allowed herself to relax, to smile once more. "You're happy." She said it as much for herself as she did for him. There was some relief in saying it out loud. "Everyone came to our wedding. Katniss let me wear one of her dresses. Peeta made our cake. There was dancing and laughing and everyone had a good time." Them especially. She remembered that she couldn't stop smiling for the next few months. Even the threat of war couldn't take it away from her. "Of course I'm happy," Finnick answered instantly. "I love you." He said it as if it was common sense, even though it was never something the two of them had been able to take for granted. He didn't understand how she'd even think that he'd be anything but overjoyed at the news that at some time in their lives, they hadn't had to act as if every moment they were together was stolen. It was enough, just for that moment, to make every other complication between them fade away. His own smile grew warmer, softer. Instead, he focused on kissing her back in return, reveling in everything he had missed about her in the weeks since he'd been separated from her. "You'll have to tell me everything," he said; it was comforting just to see her this happy over something. And to know that there was at least some time when they were all together, safe. Even Annie knew that just because you love someone doesn't mean you're ready for the big steps. Of course, as soon as they were able to be a couple out in the open, it didn't take long before they wanted to be married. They'd started talking about it almost as soon as she was in 13. One moment, they'd been reunited. The next was the sudden realization that it meant they were free to do whatever they wanted. They could even get married, and that was all it took. Annie grinned and reached around to pluck the necklace from her neck. As soon as that was done, she felt a strange loss where the weight of the ring had been. It would take some time to get used to, but this was definitely the kind of thing she wouldn't mind getting used to. "What do you want to know?" She held the ring between her thumb and forefinger for him. Finnick looked at the ring when she handed it over to him. It was almost intimidating -- not because he had any doubt about whether he wanted to be married to her. He did, absolutely. But it felt strange to be taking the ring when he didn't have any memory of the wedding or anything else she had gone through after the Quell. He looked back up at her. He wanted to ask her more about their wedding. About how she had felt, and what songs they had danced to, who had married them. He wanted to know all of that. But, with a sinking feeling, he knew he couldn't let himself play too far into this. They would have time to play house, to act as if nothing ever went wrong in their lives while they were here, but he had to know the truth of what happened back home first: He had to know about the baby. He didn't know how to ask it. Everything that came to mind sounded insulting, especially after the conversation of their wedding: Who is he? Who did you fall in love with after me? "The baby…?" Finnick managed to ask, glancing down at her stomach, the question weak to his own ears. But it was the best he could do. There was no sense in even trying to hide it, not when her belly was getting in the way of everything. She remembered spending a week trying to think of all the ways she could tell him. Some cute, clever way. Maybe find a pair of baby booties and leave them where he'd find them. Or just be knitting a baby hat. Something that would be a story for them to tell later, even if no one else in the world cared. It would be something for them to tell their child when they were old enough. Daddy had just come back from the Capitol, from fighting Snow, and I gave him more of a surprise. It had never happened, of course, but it had been fun for the short time she had to imagine it. "I was going to tell you about the baby when you came back from the Capitol." Annie laughed awkwardly, though she was clearly uncomfortable. She wasn't throwing up every day the way she was in the first few months, but she felt a little nauseated right now. "They told me it's a boy." "What?" Finnick asked, completely thrown. Everything about this conversation seemed to get more and more surprising: that she was here at all, that they had gotten married. But now, from what she was saying, it sounded like … Well, it sounded like she was saying she was pregnant with his child, which was something that had never occurred to him, let alone let himself hope. (Which he couldn't even let himself hope now, even with her standing in front of him.) He couldn't have children. It was the only thing that kept bouncing around in his skull. (He could still vividly remember Snow telling him: You don't get babies off a victor by accident. Deadpanned and without emotion, because that had just been part of the business, another overwhelming facet for Finnick to learn as a teenager.) "You're going to be a father." It wasn't perfect. She could already see that he was overloaded, but there was no real way around it when she had a belly as round as a balloon. It could literally knock him off his feet if she let it. She'd known about what they'd done to him in the Capitol. That was one of the things they'd talked about when they'd first started -- well, it was one of the things discussed. The Capitol took very good care of its darling, when you talked about his health. It wouldn't do to have a Victor knock someone up -- be it by chance in the Capitol or on purpose back home. Snow had to have that control over him. Annie just wanted to be with Finnick, and if children couldn't be a part of that, it was something they'd have to live with. "Surprise?" "I'm…?" he tried to repeat, but he couldn't even manage the words. Even hearing the words, he had trouble processing it. It was surprising just to hear that they had gotten married, but hearing that she was pregnant with his child was another thing entirely. Before he knew what he was doing, he had moved forward, gathering her too tightly in his arms again. He buried his face in her shoulder, hastily hiding the tears that were starting to gather in his eyes. They were having a child together. It was impossible and everything he could have ever wished for. And at the same time, his joy was convoluted, compromised by his remembering that he was dead when she was from. He didn't live to see any of this. He didn't live to see his child born, to be with Annie while it happened. He left her alone through all of this, and that spiked hot and hard inside of him, a pain that was overwhelming. The only comfort came from knowing that the war was successful. They got rid of Snow. There were no more Hunger Games. And even though it hurt like hell to know that he didn't get to enjoy this happiness with Annie, it was a relief to know that she was safe. Their child was safe. And that was all he could give her. Suddenly, this place wasn't so bad. She'd felt so overwhelmingly alone when she'd arrived, despite Katniss. No parents, no friends, no one from home really. She'd drowned out the reminders of Finnick, because what else could she do? She had to. It was too unbearable otherwise. The love of her life was dead in their world, and she would just have to accept it. She'd cope, because Finnick had given her the strength to. Deep down she knew that every night, she'd go on a walk and talk to him as if he was still there. And now he was here! She hoped she never went back. She cradled him in her arms tightly, bowing her head against his and rocking side to side gently. Her fingers wove into his hair. The last six months were going to be just a horrible memory. Here, in this world, maybe they could finally be happy, truly happy with no war, no threats hanging over their heads. This world was a whole new chapter for them. He let out a quiet breath when she touched him. He finally felt like he was settling back into his own skin. For the first time since he'd found out about the Quell, everything felt fine. She was here. She was real. She was safe. And they were going to have a family here. They were going to have a son. No one was going to try and hurt them here, and they could do as they pleased. They could be just another normal couple with nothing remarkable about them at all. "I love you," Finnick said, pulling back so he could look at her again. His hands framed her face, thumbs pulling across her cheeks. "You know that, right? I love you more than anything." |