Finnick | Backstory | Post-Tour
Feb. 26th, 2014 11:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themadgirlAs it turned out, the Capitol's curiosity regarding its victors only carried so far.
Most of what Annie remembered about that night—What her escort had delicately labeled her "episode"—were little more than flashes, but with the benefit of time she could see how quickly it had all happened. There had been no attempt to return her to the ball, only Mags and Finnick bundling her swiftly onto the train. She'd lost one of her shoes at some point, like the old fairy story, and when she'd recalled this days later, she'd fallen into a sudden and manic laughing fit that lasted until she was half-hoarse.
When the train had begun to move that night and Finnick hadn't been on it, she'd laid down right where they'd placed her, curled up on her bed in her gown, hem dirty, one bare foot peeking from beneath frothy fabric. She wasn't certain how long it had been, but she remembered Mags coming in, and the gentle confidence of the old woman's fingers as she sat Annie up and carefully stripped her of the Capitol. Unpinning the weight of Annie's hair, wiping her face clean, and perhaps most tellingly, removing the dress by cutting it cleanly up the side with a pair of shears. Annie had stayed in bed the entire next day and then emerged thoroughly sober, freshly eighteen, and with a curt dismissal of her escort. Mags had given her the thumbs-up.
Her mother had hovered for awhile, had skirted on the edge of difficult questions but ultimately relented when no solid answers were forthcoming. With Annie so quiet and withdrawn, it wasn't unlike when she'd first returned from the games, but for two glaring differences: More introspection and less Finnick.
Today, Annie's mother had been the first, but not last, person to tell her about the train. Four was a large district, but in some respects it was like the smallest village, and word traveled fast. Preparing for a passenger train was unusual enough for assumptions to be made. Annie had gone for a walk.
Hours later she nudged her way through the back door and into the kitchen, shawl trailing behind her and laden basket hooked over one arm. Barefoot from the moment she returned from the Capitol, there was sand dusted like sugar up to her ankles and over her toes, and she tracked it inside without thought or hesitation. Following after was Bosun, who had been her father's water dog, a gentle giant in his old age with baleful brown eyes and silver sprinkled in his dark coat. From the moment Annie had stepped into the house after returning from the Capitol, he'd not left her side. Not once.
Just now he padded to the end of the kitchen table and sat, turning his wise, old gaze upon Finnick where he was lingering the hallway beyond. Basket still over her arm, Annie paused at the sink and flicked a glance to the doorway. Seeing Finnick again would hurt; she'd known that. What surprised her was how calm she felt, most of her anger bled out of her by time and resignation. Wordless, she turned her attention back to the basket and began carefully washing the sand from the shells she had collected.
Most of what Annie remembered about that night—What her escort had delicately labeled her "episode"—were little more than flashes, but with the benefit of time she could see how quickly it had all happened. There had been no attempt to return her to the ball, only Mags and Finnick bundling her swiftly onto the train. She'd lost one of her shoes at some point, like the old fairy story, and when she'd recalled this days later, she'd fallen into a sudden and manic laughing fit that lasted until she was half-hoarse.
When the train had begun to move that night and Finnick hadn't been on it, she'd laid down right where they'd placed her, curled up on her bed in her gown, hem dirty, one bare foot peeking from beneath frothy fabric. She wasn't certain how long it had been, but she remembered Mags coming in, and the gentle confidence of the old woman's fingers as she sat Annie up and carefully stripped her of the Capitol. Unpinning the weight of Annie's hair, wiping her face clean, and perhaps most tellingly, removing the dress by cutting it cleanly up the side with a pair of shears. Annie had stayed in bed the entire next day and then emerged thoroughly sober, freshly eighteen, and with a curt dismissal of her escort. Mags had given her the thumbs-up.
Her mother had hovered for awhile, had skirted on the edge of difficult questions but ultimately relented when no solid answers were forthcoming. With Annie so quiet and withdrawn, it wasn't unlike when she'd first returned from the games, but for two glaring differences: More introspection and less Finnick.
Today, Annie's mother had been the first, but not last, person to tell her about the train. Four was a large district, but in some respects it was like the smallest village, and word traveled fast. Preparing for a passenger train was unusual enough for assumptions to be made. Annie had gone for a walk.
Hours later she nudged her way through the back door and into the kitchen, shawl trailing behind her and laden basket hooked over one arm. Barefoot from the moment she returned from the Capitol, there was sand dusted like sugar up to her ankles and over her toes, and she tracked it inside without thought or hesitation. Following after was Bosun, who had been her father's water dog, a gentle giant in his old age with baleful brown eyes and silver sprinkled in his dark coat. From the moment Annie had stepped into the house after returning from the Capitol, he'd not left her side. Not once.
Just now he padded to the end of the kitchen table and sat, turning his wise, old gaze upon Finnick where he was lingering the hallway beyond. Basket still over her arm, Annie paused at the sink and flicked a glance to the doorway. Seeing Finnick again would hurt; she'd known that. What surprised her was how calm she felt, most of her anger bled out of her by time and resignation. Wordless, she turned her attention back to the basket and began carefully washing the sand from the shells she had collected.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 12:00 am (UTC)He didn't know if he or the Aldjoys had been more surprised when Melia had discreetly appeared at the entrance to the library where Finnick was still not quite dressed. Of course, she had handled the situation with a suitable amount of tact. (Finnick had a theory that all of the seriousness in the Capitol had been distilled into Melia. She wasn't like any other stylist he had ever known, which was obviously why she was his. Snow's administration had searched left and right for someone who wasn't going to try to sleep with him, and Melia had been the result of that search.)
He hadn't known what to expect when he had followed Melia off the property, limp still just barely visible. And then there had been Annie and Mags. His heart had gone cold at the sight of Annie, and none of his usual tricks, none of his pleading had managed to get her to even focus on him. He was terrified of what had happened to trigger this. He'd found the card tucked inside her dress, and he'd wanted to cry too, because he didn't know what he was supposed to do or how he was supposed to fix this, especially when he couldn't get her to talk to him. Finally, they'd gotten permission to take her back to the train, and Finnick had carried her whole way. As soon as they'd gotten there though, Melia had quietly, but in her straightforward-way, told him that he hadn't been cleared to leave the Capitol.
He didn't fight, because he knew there was no point. Melia couldn't get him permission to leave, and nobody was going to give it to him. He'd gotten off the train, figuring the best thing he could do was let Mags take Annie home.
He spent the next two weeks agonizing over what was happening in Four any moment he had to himself. The rest of the two weeks he spent drunk and in bed.
It felt like years had passed by the time he got back on the train. Melia drugged him on the way home, something that happened all too frequently. When he woke up, all his bruises had been erased, although he could still feel them under the press of clear skin. She had at least dressed him in something that wouldn't look ridiculous in Four, although the fabric was too stiff and bright to really belong. It didn't matter.
He was off the train in an instant, heading toward Annie's house before even considering his own. Only to find that she wasn't home. He'd waited with her mother, uncomfortable the entire time, although he knew how to hide that. He couldn't sort what Annie's mother must think of him -- the boy who brought her daughter home, but also the whore she was now dating.
It was a stark relief when he finally heard Annie come inside. He got up hurriedly and lingered in the doorway, watching her move, watching the way she cleaned off the shells, arms poised, fingers careful. He just wanted to stand there and watch her forever. Nothing in the rest of the world mattered. But he knew they couldn't stay that way, because he needed to make sure she was okay, needed to know she had once again survived the bruising grip of the Capitol.
"You're all right?" he asked quietly, remaining near the entrance. He didn't know if he should touch her yet, felt as if all their previous rules had been erased by their time spent in the Capitol. He didn't know who he was yet, didn't know how she was yet. Didn't know if she wanted him anywhere near her.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 12:31 am (UTC)"No," she finally replied without looking up, the tip of her nose touching the edge of the counter top. There was no reprimand in her voice nor unsteadiness, but rather simply the calm declaration of fact. As if she'd examined the situation and come to a firm conclusion on what was and wasn't real.
"We're not going to lie anymore," she added, and turned to stroke across Bosun's head when he wandered back over to her. She looked up to Finnick from where she was still crouched on the floor with the dog. "You're not going to lie anymore."
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 12:38 am (UTC)This hadn't been what he was expecting to come home to. His brain had dreamed up all sorts of horrors about what could have happened in the scant hour they were separated in the Capitol, but he wasn't sure he fully understood what was happening. There was a distance to her, as if a wall had come up in between them. This wasn't fear directed toward the Capitol, there wasn't a madness to retreat into. This was something that was directed exclusively at him. He was left on unsteady footing, only aware that they couldn't retreat back into the bubble of a world they had built after her Games.
He continued to watch her quietly, waiting for her to continue, although he made no promises that he wasn't going to lie.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 12:48 am (UTC)Hands gripped white-knuckled over the edge of the sink, she pulled a pained face, struggling with herself.
"I saw you," she quietly said, and pulled in a shivering breath as she stared down the drain. "We're not going to lie anymore."
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 12:56 am (UTC)He knew well enough not to ask for clarification. He knew. What had triggered Annie to become so upset their last night in the Capitol? Seeing him with at least one other partner. Bits of that night where blurred -- what exactly he had done in the library, but he knew it wasn't anything he would ever wanted her to see. Especially when he considered how evasive he had been with her on the training. She'd wanted to sleep with him, and he'd kept pushing her away and then seen -- He could only wonder over what conclusions she had drawn.
He shut his eyes, let out a too heavy breath. He pushed his face into one of his hands. This was the end of it then, he thought, a dull ache permeating his entire body. He'd been foolish to think this would work. He could let her go now, he tried to tell himself, tried to forget the way she'd told him on the train that he'd made her fall in love with him.
"I'm sorry," he managed to say, his voice not entirely his own.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 01:15 am (UTC)She'd done so well this past week, she'd thought, the distance between them giving her space to carefully line up her thoughts and feelings. There was a certain way she'd hoped this would go, a certain way she'd hoped she'd handle it when the time came, but all at once her face crumpled, a hand lifting to cover her mouth as she drew in a tremulous breath through her nose.
"You should have told me," she said, voice raw and hitching as she fought back tears.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 02:04 am (UTC)The moment she showed a sign of being upset, he was at her side, wrapping her up in his arms. His grip was probably too tight and he could feel his own heart hammering in his throat.
"I didn't want to have to tell you," he confessed.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 03:16 am (UTC)She could barely think about it, much less imagine confessing to it, and maybe that was the heart of why she'd shut down so fully that night. This was not the simple horror of the Games; this was something far more subtle, more sinister, and with incomprehensible breadth.
And there was absolutely nothing that either of them could do about it.
The press of Finnick's arms was so tight it nearly hurt, but there was a comfort in that, as well, in the fierceness of his protection. Annie wrapped her arms instinctively around him in return, and gripped the back of his shirt in tight, little fists, like she was afraid he'd slip away again.
"I'm glad you're home," she whispered into his neck.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 03:37 am (UTC)He didn't fully understand how she could say she was glad he was home, but there was some relief in that, too.
"Don't tell my sisters," he begged in a low whisper, his hands tangling in her hair as he spoke. Aerona might have been starting to piece things together, but the younger two were still blissfully unaware of the responsibilities that came with being a victor.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 04:18 am (UTC)Out of curiosity or impatience, Gaila Cresta chose that particular momeent to bustle into the kitchen. Some of the renowned beauty of her girlhood still lingered in the weather- and care-worn woman, and her eyes—Annie's eyes, that deep, unfathomable green—were sharp and bright when they landed upon the picture of her only daughter wrapped tightly in the arms of Finnick Odair. The purse of her lips was impossible to read, meaning any number of possible concerns, but she said nothing until her gaze fell to their feet.
"Annie Cresta," she began, the full name a signal that motherly lecture was forthcoming. "I told you to put on some shoes before you left. Finnick, tell her that it's still too cold for this, she won't listen to me."
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 04:29 am (UTC)In an instant he had his mask back in place, smiling as he turned around to meet Gaila's gaze. He slid so that he was beside Annie, one arm still tucked loosely around her waist.
"Your mother's right," Finnick echoed immediately, his voice something between a gentle chide and teasing. He moved so that he could adjust her shawl more soundly around her shoulders. "You don't want to catch cold." He kept smiling down at her, pressing the tip of one of his fingers gently to her nose.
He didn't dare think this conversation was over. Annie coming to terms with everything had a great impact on their relationship. If there still was going to be one. And Finnick didn't know if she needed more answers.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-28 04:54 am (UTC)More unsettling in the moment, though, was how quickly and easily Finnick had found his facade. Annie peered soberly back at him from over his hand and wondered if this was the same one he showed his family, or if he had a variety he chose from.
"…and you tracked half the beach in here," Gaila was muttering as she clattered around in a cupboard, looking for a broom.
Annie started for the hall without a word, catching hold of Finnick's hand as she passed, sand still trailing in her wake. At the top of the stairs she went not for her bedroom but the bathroom, tugging Finnick in after her and hastily locking the door. Once inside, she sat on the edge of the bathtub and turned on the water to rinse off her feet.
"She cried the day I got home," she said, her voice soft. "She said I've always kept secrets from her, ever since I was a little girl." Leaning forward, she braced her elbows on her knees and put her head in her hands, warm water swirling around her feet.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 12:13 am (UTC)Finnick sank down on the lip of the tub beside Annie as soon as she sat down. He pushed off his own shoes, glad to be free of them. He was fairly certain he could throw them out without Melia caring; they would be out of style by the time he went back. He rolled up the fabric of his pants to his knees and then turned so that he could stick his own feet in the growing water in the tub as well. He quietly reached for one of Annie's hands again, afraid to let go of her suddenly. His other hand went to the nape of her neck and began to massage quietly circles there, trying to ease the tension he could feel gathering in the corners of the room once again.
"She's scared," Finnick murmured quietly, pressing a soft kiss to Annie's temple, all the affection he could spare at the moment. "Because she knows you went through something she can't possibly understand." It was the same with his father. Finnick had been so bitter with him when he'd come home at 14, having done the impossible, having provided everything his family would need -- only for no praise to come from his father. There was a distance that grew and grew between them; at 19, Finnick thought that it had something to do with the fact that every parent prayed for their child to come out of the arena, but when they did, when they came home a victor, they weren't really a child anymore, and they certainly weren't the same person. Finnick had always wondered if his father had been horrified over how easily, how gracefully, he had killed, how proud he had been of being a victor, and maybe that was where the need to distance himself from Finnick had come, but Finnick had never asked, and he knew he never would. They interacted only when they had to, forced into familial interaction because of Finnick's mother and sisters. But outside of those occurrences, they avoided being left in the same room together.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 12:43 am (UTC)"I don't know how to turn off my feelings," she said, her eyes screwing tightly closed. "They scream at me all the time. Every second." Not just the fear which the Games had printed indelibly upon her, and not just the horror and shame and jealousy of having seen Finnick like that, of knowing that he could never truly, completely be hers. The good things were amplified now, too, and sometimes it felt like she was full of so much love with no outlet that her heart might burst.
"I feel so stupid," she said, the words catching on a barely-restrained sob, and she leaned forward with the sound, arms crossed tightly over her stomach.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 01:11 am (UTC)He was about to tell her she didn't need to turn off her feelings when she began to cry. He leaned in instantly, reacting without thinking about it. He wrapped his arms around her the best that he could, holding her close, and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck.
"Annie," he said, voice low, practically a whisper against the back of her neck, as if there was a chance of them being overheard. "You're okay."
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 01:55 am (UTC)Maybe that was what she needed. To be hollowed out so thoroughly that she could carefully begin to fill herself up again.
She waited for her tears to ebb and then sat up, wiping at her cheeks as she turned to stare Finnick down with her weary, red-eyed gaze.
"You have to tell me what we are to you," she said. "Not a line, not what you think I want to hear. The truth." This was not a gauntlet or ultimatum, but practicality. She could have no idea of how to begin to process any of what had happened until she understood where Finnick was coming from, and Finnick was so very good at lying, even to himself.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 02:21 am (UTC)He wanted to kiss her, as if that would help reassure her, but he refrained. It felt too much like a trick, as if he would be persuading her to believe him while distracting him from his actual words. He settled for running one of his thumbs gently along her cheek.
His own heart hurt in a way that it hadn't in a long time, as if it was mourning everything all at once. All the emotions he had hastily shoved to the side compacted into this moment, beating a litany to remind him that he was about to lose her. He was scared he was going to start crying as well.
"I'm in love with you," he said, throat tight. A simple truth, but one that had to be pried from him all the same. He could tell her about how frantic he had been to save her from the arena; he'd done things for her he'd never done for any other tribute. He could tell her that he was certain that she was the only thing he had left living for most days, but he was certain that that one sentence encompassed all of that.
"But I will never be able to make you happy," Finnick said, and there it was, the other half of their relationship that he held close to his heart. He might have helped get her out of the arena, but he couldn't give her a life after it.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 02:36 am (UTC)Her expression and words were edging on fierce, and she knew she probably wasn't very convincing, probably looked more like an angry kitten than anything else, but she needed him to know without a doubt that there was going to be no moving her on this. He could just forget about whatever stupid ideas he had about not being good enough.
"If you-" Her breath caught, throat working as her stomach flipped over. "If you love me, you'll trust me to make my own decision. I've made it. So if that doesn't work for you or- or-" Her bottom lip began to quiver, but she caught herself. "If you think it's too hard or too much work, you need to say so right now."
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 02:58 am (UTC)He didn't bother telling her that their situation wasn't likely to change anytime soon, that he was going to spend more time in the Capitol than he would in Four. They would say goodbye all the time, and when he was in the Capitol, he would sleep with too many people, and a lot of that would leak into the tabloids. He didn't bother telling her that they would never be able to have a public relationship -- because she was smart and she'd had two weeks to think about all of this. She understood it in theory.
"It's not too much work," he answered gently. "And I promise I won't lie to you anymore. If you want to know something, I will tell you. And if I can't tell you something because it's to keep someone safe, I'll tell you that, too." He hesitated, suspecting that he already knew what her answer was going to be to the next part, but he wanted her to hear it anyway. It might not make a difference today, but sometime in the future it might.
"And I want you to promise me, that if there's ever anyone else you think could make you happy, you'll try with them, all right?" Finnick asked. It was still her decision then.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 03:14 am (UTC)"No," she yelled at him, her mouth screwed up into an incensed little moue. "I'm not going to promise you that, because you're still telling me what to do! You don't get to cheat by phrasing it as a question, Finnick. So just stop. Right now."
Unshed tears shining in her eyes, she pushed herself up and sloshed angrily from the bathtub.
"No one else is going to make me happy," she quietly said as she stood before the towel rack, frowning. "I know you think I'm too young or too crazy to know better, but I know who I am, Finnick."
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 03:24 am (UTC)He tried to give her some space until she abruptly launched into her speculation on what he thought of her. Then, he was up in a minute, chasing after her again. He crossed the small space of the bathroom, feet leaking water across the floor. He put both his hands on her shoulders, turning her gently so that she was facing him.
"I do not think you are crazy," he said firmly. They all had their scars from the Hunger Games, and she had seen things that most people would never deal with in their life. "If you say this is what you want, I believe you. What else do you need from me to make us work?"
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 03:36 am (UTC)"I don't know," she admitted, and blinked back the tears in her eyes. "Just… don't forget about me, I guess. That's all."
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 03:44 am (UTC)"I leave every part of me that matters here with you, you understand?" he said quietly, as if he was sharing a secret with her. In a way, he was -- their most important secret. He had never loved anybody he'd slept with and had a very clear distinction between sex and emotion. But she had his heart, absolutely.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 03:50 am (UTC)"I'll keep it safe," she swore, and slowly opened her eyes again. "Just promise you'll come back for it."
no subject
Date: 2014-03-01 03:53 am (UTC)"I promise I'll come back for it," Finnick answered without any hesitation. He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, just the barest touch of his flesh against hers.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: