Do you believe in Angels
Title: Do you believe in Angels
Pairing: Finnick x Annie
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,143
Warning: Spoiler - Mockingjay
Summary: As District 4 heads to the Capitol for the 70th Hunger Games, Annie Cresta asks Finnick Odair an unconventional question.
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“Unbelievable,” Penelope breathed as her thin frame made its way up the concrete steps of the Justice Building, two at a time.
“Where is he?” she barked at the Peacekeeper, standing in the main hallway, weapon at his side. His face, like stone, made her demanding stare look feeble in comparison.
“Where is that son of a bitch Odair!” her shrill voice bounced off the concrete walls and weaved into the empty rooms. The Peacekeeper did not blink.
“Ah, Penny, I thought that was you,” Finnick slurred teasingly, his head of bronze hair popped out from an open doorway into the hall, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He waved at the Peacekeeper to let the hysterical woman through.
Her small footsteps proceeded to stomp their way towards him, stopping within millimetres of his protruding, muscular torso. “Don’t fuck with me; you know why I’m here.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled with all 32 of his teeth and leaned his whole 6 foot 3 frame against the side of the door, “Why don’t you go see her off properly then?”
Penelope sighed; shoulders drooped, the harsh lines in her hard face softened, exaggerating the early onset of her wrinkles. “I want you to promise me something…”
“…Penelope…there is no guarantee. Who knows what they designed this year.”
Penelope shook her head, “I know that! Still, please Finnick; promise me you will do everything in your power to bring my baby sister home.”
He nodded, reaching his hand out for hers, “I will do what I can. But don’t get your hopes up.” He surely was not.
A smile pushed through her wrinkles as she gripped his large hand and planted a kiss on his tanned cheek, “Thank you, Finn.” Her small feet spun her around, long sun-kissed hair wisped around her frame, as she quietly went to say goodbye to her sister.
~~~
Ten times had he heard that blow of the whistle; 10 times had he felt that initial jerk of the locomotive; 10 times had he wondered why the Capitol could not hire a better conductor; 10 times now he had felt the wheels of the train bring him closer to an unpleasant end.
Those entrancing green eyes of his, so he’s been told, trailed away from the view of the passing sea. They found solace with the tribute that sat before him. Her rounded knees curled up into her chest, identical sea green eyes rapidly following the motion of the rolling scenery, all the while her dark hair splashed over the better part of her face. This is what 16 years of life added up to be. This was as much her train, as it was his, to an unpleasant end.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked, softly, “The Capitol prepares a delicious Lobster Bisk.”
Not a finger twitched or an eyelash fluttered.
“You really should eat something.” You only have one week left
Nothing.
“Is there a place in the Capitol that overlooks the ocean?” It had been the first time he heard her speak since she was 10 years old. Her voice was no longer meek but it did not replicate Penelope’s confidence. She is softer, but still sharp. Definitely memorable. Caesar will at least have something to work with.
“The Capitol is surrounded by mountains.”
“Righ…t…” she peered at him through her peripheral, “Where do you go to collect yourself then, Finnick?”
He felt the slouch in his back straighten and the muscles in his face tighten as his jaw clenched. It’s been 6 years since he uttered a word to that frail thing of a girl. It was not as if it were a bad word either. He asked her what she was looking at while her feet dug into the white sand and eyes fixated on a wading pool.
“Did you know, Angelfish form long-term relationships with their mate? Even if they separated from their partner, they won’t mate with another.”
“I did not know that,” he said, voice crackling with puberty. The waves washed over the sand, taking the trapped fish with it back into the sea.
“Learn something new every day, huh?” She smiled, just before her sister came running along and kicked her for flirting with her boyfriend.
Where she got off judging him at the present time, escaped him. Unless she knew something he did not, but that would be highly unlikely. What could little Annie Cresta know about him that he did not already know himself.
“Why does it matter to you, Annie?”
She ran her hands through her hair, pushing it completely out of her face. Golden freckles, which he had never noticed before, glowed around those eyes. They looked infinitely more dangerous than his first glance at them, more grey now than green. She did have some of Penny in her after all.
“Do you believe in angels, Finnick Odair?
“Excuse me?”
“I do. I believe that angels watch us and wait for just the right moment to help us when we cannot help ourselves.”
He blinked. “I’m not an angel.”
Annie turned her head back towards the fading landscape of District Four, a small shrug rolled over her shoulders.
Pushing his hand through his own bronze hair, Finnick got up and walked out of Annie’s compartment. She believed in a force bigger than herself. Bigger than even him. No one was going to save her when it got to its worst. She was not going to survive this. He had no doubt that Annie Cresta was going to lose the 70th Hunger Games.
~~~
“Johanna,” Finnick called across the way. They sat at their mentor panels, anxiously watching the 5 remaining tributes struggle against the oncoming waves. “Do you believe in angels?”
“The shit, Finnick? You high?”
“No. Something Annie asked me.”
“You’re seriously asking me questions that snivelling twig asked you?”
“Just answer, Jo!”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I can’t believe in something I’ve never seen,” she was distracted as her male tribute’s head fell under the water for the 10th time in the last 25 minutes.
Finnick grinned, “Then you should look in a mirror.”
Haymitch’s guttural laugh pushed through their ears, leaving Johanna Mason with an ugly blush tainting her cheeks.
“Go fuck yourself!” she cried as the vital signs of her tribute plummeted. The third canon to shoot off in 30 minutes.
“Plenty of people to do that for him, sweetheart,” Haymitch continued to chuckle between swigs of white liquor.
If Finnick’s eyes were not glued to his screen; a smile not etched on his face and his heart not thudding against his chest, he would have been cross with his friends. But he couldn’t be. Annie Cresta believed in angels and he believed in her.
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