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thgfanficinspo · 3 years

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Fear of the Water - 17

Annie is released from the hospital for the televised recap of her Games.

(too much fluff)

Fear of the water Chapter 1 - Coriolanus One-shot - Jonsa - my AO3

(ANNIE)

More doctors come to talk to me. They say they’re not regular doctors but head doctors but I don’t care and I don’t talk to them. They say that the film people need footage of me reuniting with my mentors. And I have to be wearing my uniform in it.

Mags is on her feet before I can even sob. She’s shouting at them or growling at them and I hold onto Finnick because he won’t let them take to I don’t want them to take me I’m afraid because I can’t put the clothes back on they’ll try to put me back in the arena I wore them in the arena I can’t go back there don’t make me go back there . . .

Finnick wants to argue with the doctors rather than letting Mags do it because he gets tense and he doesn’t want her to have to fight but he lets her do it cause he can’t leave me because he’s the only one that anybody listens to and he doesn’t want me to get hurt and I don’t want to get hurt and I don’t want him to go.

Mags wins the argument, and the film crew trudges out. Mags comes back and sits on the side of my bed. She says I don’t have to worry now and I should get some rest.

It’s another night before they let me leave. I don’t remember falling asleep or waking up but I know I must have.

I hang on to Finnick with both hands when we walk cause I don’t want to get separated cause what if I can’t find him again and I get lost in the trees and what if I can’t find my way out.

I don’t look where we’re going because I have to count how many steps it is from the hospital room to the apartment. I lose track at one point because Proteus is saying how he’s got this snack ready for when we get back to the apartment and – and – and – it’s ruined it’s ruined I have to start over and over and over it’s ruined I have to it’s ruined and it’s like fire ants crawling on my skin my skin doesn’t fit me right because my skin doesn’t fit me right I have to it’s ruined it’s ruined . . .

Finnick starts saying things saying soft things saying nice things but I can’t hear the words through my hands cause they’re over my ears but he keeps saying and then it’s a number he’s saying a number. He was keeping count of my steps, too.

My skin is still crawling with a hundred million bugs but it’s not as bad because I have the number. I ruined it but Finnick fixed it. So now it’s okay.

He counts our steps out loud with me the rest of the way so I don’t lose my place again.

I think maybe I forgot what the apartment looks like because it doesn’t feel familiar when I walk into it, like I’ve actually been there. More like when you dream about a place and it’s just a bit wrong but you don’t realize until you wake up. It is clean and empty. No people.

The dining table is set for a meal; I’m happy that we go straight there instead of breaking off or going into our rooms. Mags sits at the head of the table. I sit on her right and Finnick sits on my right. He pulls out our chairs for us and slides them back under the table once we sit down.

Proteus sets out a tray of pink triangles on the table before he takes his seat across from me. “Watermelon,” he says. “We don’t have anything like it back home.”

Finnick puts some on my plate before serving himself. “You’ll like it,” he assures me.

“Eat,” Proteus says. “You’ll feel better.”

But I don’t want to eat pink triangles. I pick the black seeds out one at a time with my stubby fingernails to count them. I get very absorbed in this because everything needs to be in order and be counted and everything needs to be in order. I come back out of my trance once the seeds are arranged in a perfect square and notice that there is a new fruit on the table. The fuzzy one that’s pink and orange. I don’t know who to thank for bringing them out so I don’t say anything.

The peach is sweet and juicy and happy and I have to smile while I eat.

Somebody comes out of the kitchen, walking slow. It’s the girl. The zombie girl the one with no tongue and nothing left a whole life scooped out and tossed away.

She sets a cup of tea down in front of me and smiles. I just stare at her. She’s a mutt now, isn’t she? Am I? She points at the tea and touches her throat with her hand. I touch mine, too.

“It’s to help your throat,” Mags explains. “It must still be sore.”

Greer’s eyes flicker to the ground and then back up to mine. She slinks back into the kitchen without turning around.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie, she gathered up the bones of me and tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

We sit in the kitchen for a long time until there’s a knock at the door. “That’ll be your stylist,” Mags says to me. She puts her hand on top of mine and smiles. “Nothing to worry about.”

Somes opens the door.

The mean one, of course, who hates my forehead and my teeth and the one with green hair so bright that it hurts my eyes to look at and there’s the one that wants my hair. They go ahead into my room while Mags and Finnick talk with Beest, then we go into my room, too.

The team has started setting things up – the mean one is steaming a black dress on a freestanding hanger, the one with green hair is organizing some makeup on the table, and Pleased-as-Punch is suddenly bouncing over to me. I reflexively take a step back.

“Annie! Oh, it’s wonderful to see you. Beautiful as ever.” She reaches out at me and she’s going to grab me and to hit me and put her hand around my throat and squeeze and she’s going to make me hurt and I don’t want that and my hands crash into her shoulders and she loses her balance and crashes to the ground.

I want to run away but my mother she butchered me I can’t because we’re stuck in the buildings now my father he ate me because the sun and the rain and the flood is outside so it’s not safe to go out there.

I stumble backwards and knock into a wall – no, not a wall – Finnick Odair – and I hide behind him because he is big and solid and safe and he won’t let them. He won’t he won’t he won’t.

People are saying things and somebody is upset more than one somebody is upset. They’re shouting that there’s something wrong with me and what the hell did I do call a goddamn peacekeeper no call a doctor everybody calm down what the hell don’t tell us to calm down!

I stop hearing words. It’s just fuzzy sounds, like you’re hearing underwater. Underwater. In the flood. In the city. We’re in a city now. A city and someone wants to choke me. On top of me. And his eyes are brown until they pop and then they’re not anything.

One of Finnick’s arms goes up and out like he’s telling somebody to stop or wait and his other arm comes around his back like a shell, partially shielding me but without touching me and that’s good cause I don’t want to be touched but I do want Finnick because he is big and solid and safe and he won’t let the hand choke me and he won’t let the water drown me and he won’t. He won’t he won’t he won’t.

(FINNICK)

I’m in a dressing room with my stylist and her assistants when one of Snow’s personal guards enters the room. The guards are handpicked Peacekeepers. They wear all black, including a long black coat, and have no visible weapons.

“Out,” says the guard.

My stylist ushers her helpers out of the room. She briefly outlines what she has left to do to get me ready before she runs off herself. I can see her deep, dramatic curtsey in the hall from the corner of my eyes. A few moments later, the president himself enters my room.

His smell, as always, announces his arrival. “Mr. Odair.”

“President Snow,” I say, dipping my head respectfully. I become conscious of the fact that I’m only half dressed. Maybe he wants to sample the goods for himself? No. He’s not that type of salesman. And though he facilitates it all the time, Snow doesn’t strike me as the sort of person that cares for prostitution in general. It seems too base for him.

“Leave us.” He doesn’t even look at the guard when addressing him. He sits down on the big leather sofa across from me and crosses his legs. “By all means, go on dressing.” I begin buttoning my shirt as he fusses with his white gloves. “Congratulations on your victor.”

“Thank you.”

“Your district will be very proud.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It has come to my attention that she may have some issues,” he says after a moment. Someone must’ve reported that she shoved one of her prep team to the ground.

“No. Not really.” Yes. Very much. “She’s just . . . having trouble adjusting.” And maybe that’s just what it is. But I don’t think so.

“The specific nature of her problems is not important at the present time,” Snow says. “It is important, however, that you keep your distance from her in the public eye.”

“I don’t understand.”

He sighs like he’s dealing with a child. “I understand you’re fond of her and perhaps even protective. Perfectly understandable given the situation. But you are not to interfere while she is on camera. You are not to help her, not to make any of it easier. That’s not the sort of man Finnick Odair is.”

No, the illustrious Finnick Odair is not that sort of man, even if plain old Finnick is. “I understand.”

“Good.” He stands and buttons his jacket. “Frankly, I am not concerned with what happens off camera, so long as no one sees it.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I’m sure.” He cracks a slightly amused grin, which quickly fades, and steps toward me. “Congratulations once again.” There’s blood on his teeth when he smiles.

I sit in the front row between Mags and Beest. Eefa and Proteus are on Mags’s other side, passing a flask back and forth and laughing. This is odd because Eefa doesn’t laugh and she doesn’t go out in public spaces where there are a lot of people. She must be just drunk enough to tolerate it. Eefa doesn’t enjoy many people, but she likes Proteus. I think it’s because he can be anything anybody wants him to be in any situation; Mags once described him as a shapeshifter. Broadsea is nowhere to be seen.

“The president came to see me,” I say to Mags.

“What did he want?” Mags whispers.

“He wanted me not to interfere with Annie. Not publicly, at least.”

Mags sighs. She doesn’t need me to explain it to her. “Well, that’s all right. I ought to be the one looking after her anyway. I would already if she’d let me. But she only seems to want you.”

I grunt in reply. I do want Mags to help. I think I need her to. I’d like to help Annie, but I really don’t know how. Mags knows what she’s doing. She’s helped all the victors adjust after their wins, not just the ones from District 4. It’s why so many of us are devoted to her, even broken ones like the drunks from 9, 11, and 12 and the addicts from 1 and 6.

I don’t know why Annie’s latched on to me. The only reason I can think of is that I’m the first one she saw when she woke up. She seems to think she’s in physical danger, too, so it makes sense that she’d prefer me. As maternal as Mags is, as comforting as she can be, she’s not in fighting shape anymore. But I’m big enough to hide behind and mean enough to scare people off and yes, if it comes down to it, I can fight better than anyone.

But I don’t know if she’s capable of thinking like that right now. I don’t think she is. It’s more like her subconscious made a snap decision to trust me and that was that.

“How did the rest of the prep go?” I ask.

“All right.” She sounds too tired to get into it right now.

“Not well,” Beest says at the same time. The lights in the auditorium dim and we all applaud. “At least she tired herself out by the end,” he hisses.

Annie comes out in a little black dress with pearls all over it. Pearls are woven into her hair, decorating her face and shoulders. I wonder if she’s wearing Mags’s hairpin. She would look beautiful if she weren’t so scared.

I don’t notice she’s barefoot until Beest starts cursing her under his breath for forgetting her shoes.

Music is playing and the crowd is cheering. Annie holds up her hand to shield her eyes from the lights that beat down on her. She shrinks away from the noise. Caesar somehow draws her over towards him without touching her and without her paying attention. She scans the crowd rapidly; when her eyes fall on me, the terror on her face is gone, though only for a fraction of a second.

Caesar tries to kiss her on the cheek, but she jumps back from him. The expression on her face is one of terror. Caesar laughs it off and invites her to sit in the heavy throne they’ve brought out for her. She climbs on and sits with her legs crossed, pushing the hem of the dress higher up her thighs. “I guess it was good she insisted on wearing shorts underneath the dress,” Mags says to Beest. He grumbles.

When the crowd calms down, Caesar is ready to ask a few warm-up questions. I’m sure the doctors as well as his higher-ups have given him instructions on what to say and how to behave since she’s been acting so strangely – actually, I don’t think I’ve heard her say a full sentence since she woke up. So Caesar’s questions are simple, mostly yes-or-no, but there’s some room to expand if Annie wants to. She doesn’t. In fact she remains totally silent throughout the interview. Doesn’t even shake her head or nod in reply. Just stares out at the lights and the audience and the cameras.

“Not very chatty, I understand, stage fright and all that,” Caesar says. “I used to suffer from it myself.”

The crowd vocalizes their disbelief.

“It’s true! Thankfully, though, there are pills for everything these days! Ha, ha, ha!” The crowd settles down and Caesar begins the interview. “Are you excited to go home?”

Annie starts gnawing on her nails.

“You have a brother, I understand. Your twin, yes?” Still nothing. “Well, I’m sure he’s very excited to see you.” Nothing. Caesar tries one or two more questions before he gives up.

The recap starts up and Annie stares blankly at the screen for the first forty minutes. She cringes and shuts her eyes during the bloodbath. She doesn’t open them again, but she somehow knows when the footage cuts to the image of her counting the bricks in her cave. When the Careers creep inside.

The real Annie pulls her knees against her chest and begins to sing under her breath.

I can’t actually hear her over the broadcast, but her lips form the words like they’ve been doing for weeks and that song is front and center in my mind the way it has been since she first started singing,

The moment comes where Gad grabs Annie’s hair in the cave and all hell breaks loose.

Annie – the Annie here and now, not the one on television – shrieks. She presses her hands over her ears and curls in on herself and shrieks.

Everyone jumps a little. Caesar, ever the professional, attempts to pat Annie on the shoulder and draw her back to reality. Touching her only makes it worse. She jumps away from him so quickly that she knocks over her heavy chair; it makes a sound like thunder when it falls down on the ground beside her. She remains there, huddled on the floor. Slaps her hands over her ears again and screams and screams.

I rise to my feet and surge toward the stage before I remember that I’m not supposed to help her.

She’s on her knees on the ground. Violent tremors wrack her body. Her eyes are pressed shut, but I can tell she’s not sure quite where she is. “No, no, no, no, no!” she sobs. “NO!” Her voice is so high-pitched now that it cracks.

“Cut the feed!” Caesar commands one of his crew. “Keep the recap going but cut the feed of her!” He turns to the audience with a smile on his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, please just afford us a few moments of patience.”

A handful of peacekeepers and doctors rush on stage as the lights dim. One of the peacekeepers picks Annie up, which draws a new, bloodcurdling cry of fear from her lips. Her eyes are wild as they dart about the auditorium. She flails desperately, trying to force the peacekeeper to drop her. But he holds on.

Her hands fly out over and over, attempting to scratch and cut but she can only scrape the armor with her fingernails.

The curtains close around the stage, blocking Annie from view. Her screams turn to defeated moans and then stop altogether.

I’m still frozen, gripping the edge of the stage. Watching helplessly. Mags puts her hand on my shoulder. Her other hand covers her mouth and there are tears in her eyes.

Caesar is saying something to the crowd as I force my fingers to unlock and realize my hands are shaking so hard that they’re practically vibrating.

People usher me and the other victors from 4 out as the recap starts up again; I put my arm around Mags. They blast the sound so that people can’t talk over it.

We end up backstage with a hodge-podge of peacekeepers with their helmets off, stage hands, Avoxes, and doctors. Caesar Flickerman is getting his makeup redone. Only a few people seem to be panicking.

“What is happening?” Proteus speaks in a sharper tone than I’ve ever heard from him before. “Where is Annie?”

“Please lower your voice,” says a female peacekeeper. “Annie Cresta is being returned to the medical bay for testing.”

“Testing?” I repeat. My tone makes it sound like I’ve never heard the word before. “She’s already been discharged.”

“Please follow me to your quarters,” she says calmly. She shepherds us into our apartment. “Please remain here while you await instructions.”

Proteus whips up a light dinner in the kitchen while I try to drink myself to death. Around the fifth drink, Mags yanks the crystal tumbler from my hands. “Enough.”

Greer and Somes start bringing out plates of food arranged like artwork. Proteus comes in from the kitchen and tells Somes what wine to serve with the meal. We all sit around the table, put our napkins in our laps, rest our forearms on the edge of the table (never our elbows), and eat in silence.

I open the window in my bedroom to hear the city outside. Most windows in the training center don’t open at all – there’s always a risk of a tribute jumping out – but mine cracks four inches.

But there’s nothing. No cheering from below. Not even drunken shouting or cars or trams. Just silence.

It’s a few hours before they summon us to the hospital. I try my hardest to sleep in the meantime but I just wind up staring at the ceiling.

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