mockingfire:

Be brave little one

She’s a victor the same as he, but she never goes back to that place.  He returns every year, without fail.  No one asks why.  He’s a mentor, after all.  And such a popular one.  No one asks why Annie doesn’t go. No one asks why Annie does anything.  She’s mad, after all.  Poor girl.

 He always comes back stinking of the Capitol—of wine, foods the Districts only dream about, metal.  He tries to scrub it all away with the perfumes in the Capitol showers, but there’s something lingering about him, something that Annie recognizes time and time again.

 But it’s not just the decadence of the city that she smells on him.  It’s also sweat and silk, skin and stress.   He smiles and saunters and eases everyone around him with a silver tongue, an easy grin. But when they’re finally alone together, he holds her a little tighter than usual, doesn’t speak for many moments.

 And of course, there’s plenty of talk amongst the victors.   It’s said but unsaid.  Everybody knows, but he pretends she doesn’t.  Hopes she doesn’t. He just smiles and tells her she has nothing to worry about anymore.  He’s taking care of her.  He will always take care of her.

 Before he leaves, she has to fight the desire to keep him there with her.  He’ll be safe, she knows, but she doesn’t want him to have to go.

 “I know what he makes you do,” she tells him once.  “In the Capitol.”

 Wise-cracking Finnick has no words then.  He halts halfway out the door and wont look at her.  She wants to throw her arms around him and lock him safely away.

 But he leaves for the train without a word.