[A/N]: Summary quote from TS Eliot's "The Hollow Men." You have been warned.

Cashmere's kneeling in the dirt, planting bulbs. She's wearing her gardening shorts, and a yellow tank top that she only gets to wear a few days a year. The warm humidity is oppressive today, and Cashmere won't mind when the heavy grey sky breaks out into the rain it's been threatening all afternoon.

She sets down her trowel and wipes her forehead with the back of her forearm, leaving a tangible streak of dirt on her face. Cashmere laughs. Gardening's a filthy habit, and she loves it.

Then she measures out the distance and starts on the next hole. She's hoping for a good crop of tulips next spring. Then she might put in a vegetable garden.

"Look, it's a honeybee! It's yellow and black, and surrounded by flowers."

The voice, warm and laughing, spills over Cashmere from behind. She turns around to see a grinning Finnick standing on the walkway, his arms held out.

She gasps and flies to him, trampling flowers in her way and leaping over the low fence.

They cling to each other, laughing and crying. Through Cashmere's joy, words spill out like a river. At first, all she can babble is, "You're alive, you're alive, you're alive!" Then, "There's so much to tell you—you have to see the kids!"

Cashmere pulls away and seizes him by the hand. She takes him to the baby carriage next to the flowerbed. "This is Evan."

"Oh my god," Finnick exclaims, "it's a baby honeybee! That's too cute to be true."

Laughing, and pleased by his delight, Cashmere reaches in to pass him Evan. He looks awkward, and she has to show him how to hold a baby, but he's game for trying, and she loves him for it.

"Maggie's having her afternoon nap. I leave the windows and curtains open so I can see or hear if she needs anything, but you can see she's sleeping right now."

Finnick peers into the window with her. It's just possible, inside the dim bedroom, to make out the shape of a child in the bed. That's all Cashmere needs to know that she's safe and well.

"Maggie, and Evan did you say? Did you get to name any kids?"

"Oh-" Cashmere's excitement wanes slightly while her heart clenches. "Annie offered, but I didn't want to. It would hurt too much to name him after Gloss, and naming the kids meant the world to Annie. She said she needed the closure for Evan, really needed it to be able to move on."

Shifting baby Evan to one arm held close against his chest, Finnick slides his other arm around Cashmere. He knows—he still knows—when she needs to be held.

"And 'Maggie,'" Cashmere continues, more cheerfully, "is a common name here, and 'Mags' really isn't. Plus it sounds a bit like 'Annie.' So 'Maggie' it is."

"Two wonderful choices," Finnick tells her. He sets Evan down in the carriage, and Cashmere hands the boy back his sippy cup and stuffed frog. "So Annie's not home?"

"No, she's at work. She's so smart, you wouldn't believe it. She's an electrician now, certified and everything!"

"I believe it." Finnick sounds as proud as Cashmere feels. "And you?"

Cashmere pulls a deep breath into her lungs, braces herself, and talks as fast as she can. "Annie and I got married but I swear I'm not trying to come between you and it was only because we thought you were dead and I promise everything can go back to the way it was!"

Finnick laughs. "Oh, sweetheart. I believe you." He looks around for a place to sit down. Cashmere slides her arm in his and leads him over to a bench where she can keep an eye on Evan.

"Annie made this bench," she says as they sit down. She's not trying to change the subject, but there's just so much to tell. "She made the whole house the way it is. You should have seen it before."

"You're both amazing." With only a little hesitation before they're sure nothing's changed, they wrap their arms around each other and snuggle close on the bench. "So Annie's at work, you're home with the kids, and you got married?"

Cashmere nods. "Are you mad? We didn't forget about you. We waited and waited, but there was no word."

"How could I be mad? I just want to know that everything's all right. Are you safe? Are you happy? This place has been good to you?"

More than his words, Cashmere listens to his body language, and it's the same as always. Hands moving over her face and hair, arm tight around her waist, chin nestling on her shoulder...it's just like old times.

It's feeling more and more like Annie was right, and he knows they never meant to shut him out. So she takes another deep breath and answers his words.

"I wish you could have come here with us. Finnick—you were right. I came for the wrong reasons, just because it was what you thought was best. I guess also because I couldn't let Annie do it alone. But you were right, I was better off here too."

"You seem better," Finnick says, his chin on her shoulder while he nuzzles her hair. "Your whole body, the way you hold yourself, it's all so much happier and more confident."

Slowly as ever, Cashmere lets herself relax into having her body language read and believing that she hasn't gotten everything wrong. "I got some of the medical help Annie was getting. And none of it would have been possible without you." She tightens her arms around him as hard as she can, trying to show what she doesn't have the words for.

"I'm glad, angel, I can't tell you how glad I am. What about the kids? Did you each have one, or are they adopted?"

"Yes, adopted." She sits up straighter, and her hands start to fly in excitement as she talks. "Both from Panem. We thought about having kids ourselves, but there are so many refugees, and people were kind enough to take us in when we were refugees...it just made sense to us. Evan's from District Six. Maggie we don't know. Evan's mother died giving birth on a ship. Someone nursed him, and his eight-year-old sister carried him through immigration. The girl got adopted by someone who didn't want a baby, and we did, so we took him. We live in different cities, but we're in touch with the family who took his sister, so she and Evan can know each other when they get older, if they want. We adopted Evan six months ago. We think he's about a year old.

"Maggie's probably three. She appeared in a refugee group a year ago. No one knew who she was or where she came from. She must have gotten separated from her parents, or they died, we don't know. Someone in the group kept an eye on her and kept her fed until they were here, but they didn't want to keep her. If she knew her name, it was something the authorities here didn't recognize as a name. So she came to us as a blank. She still has nightmares, and she sleeps in the bed with us a lot, but she's been here for a year, and she's blossoming."

Catching her breath, Cashmere laughs. "Sorry, I'm rambling! I could talk about the kids all day."

Finnick laughs with her. "Ramble away, sugar. Nothing can make me happier than hearing how good this place has been to you two." When she hesitates, he insists, "It's the only thing that could make letting you go worth it."

"But I want to hear about you-"

"Let's wait until Annie gets home," Finnick suggests. "Then I can tell you both."

"Oh, okay."

She still looks questioningly at him, but when he nods encouragingly and prompts, "I can't imagine better parents than you two," she gives into temptation.

"Annie said she thought she could do better than her aunt with adopted children. And I...I didn't know you could have children sleep with you when they're scared. I thought you had to let them cry it out. I used to hold Gloss at night when we were both kids, but we weren't allowed to talk, and then when we were older, I was afraid I was responsible for his behavioral problems. I was never allowed to comfort any of the kids I saw crying when I was teaching at the academy. But then, I thought Gloss had behavioral problems. Actually, he was just talking and asking questions. We didn't have behavioral problems as kids; we had psychological problems as adults. Believe me, it took me a long time and a lot of help to understand that."

"But you're doing better?" Finnick asks. "And I take it Annie is too, if she's at work now?"

"Better, yes," she tells him. "We still both have our scars. Annie can go out alone now, but she still can't drive, so I drop her off and pick her up. And she tells me I still second-guess myself too much. She's the one who keeps reassuring me and insisting that I'm not always wrong."

"You take care of each other," he says warmly. "It would have been almost impossible for me to let either of you go if I didn't know you had each other. Tell me about how you two made the house, then. And the garden. It looks gorgeous."

On and on, Cashmere recounts her adventures with Annie, glowing with pride and happiness as she snuggles with him. Only the sound of a ringing phone through the open window jolts her out of her euphoria to realize how low the sun has sunk.

"Oh, no, it's Annie! I'm late, and the kids aren't ready—oh, no, is Maggie still asleep? I was supposed to wake her up an hour ago."

Cashmere exclaims all this while scooping up a startled Evan and running into the house to snatch at the phone. "No, no, everything's fine, I'm so sorry, I'm on my way, it won't happen again!"

Dropping the phone and spinning around, Cashmere looks at herself in dismay. "I'm covered in dirt, I've tracked it in through the house—Maggie's not going to like being woken up-" Annie's counting on her, and it's not even like this is hard, but she's still letting everyone down...

Smiling, Finnick reaches out for Evan. "Want me to watch them while you pick up Annie?"

Cashmere hesitates. "Can you?"

"I can keep them alive till you get back." He takes the baby in his arms. "How far is it?"

"Just twenty minutes each way," she tells him, fretfully trying to decide if it will work.

"It'll be fine. We can surprise Annie when she gets here." Finnick looks sure, and Cashmere lets herself sag in relief.

"Oh, thank you, that would help. Annie gets anxious when things don't go according to plan. But I have to wake up Maggie. I'm not letting her wake up to find herself alone with a stranger in the house, I'm just not doing it. And if she throws a fit, I'll take her with me even if it takes longer."

Maggie's friendly and outgoing, though, and if Mummy says Finnick is a friend, then Finnick is a friend. Evan's more suspicious and starts fussing when Cashmere turns to go, but Finnick's calm and confident. "He'll be fine. You'll be back soon."

"He's safe," Cashmere finally decides, and then she's gone, flying out the door.

Annie, as Cashmere expected, is tense when she arrives. "I'm not mad," Annie says hurriedly as she slides in and buckles her seat belt, "just couldn't stop imagining one of the kids sick or hurt or worse-"

"No, no, everything's fine," Cashmere promises. "I was gardening, and I lost track of time. The kids were so quiet, Maggie kept sleeping, nobody was yelling or crying or running around to make me pay attention!"

"Are you sure they're okay?" But Annie's smiling, and Cashmere starts to speak a little less frantically.

"I know, right? But no, Maggie was up half the night. I'm sorry I let her oversleep. She needs to learn to sleep at night."

"No, it's all right. We're not so hard on kids here."

"I know." Cashmere sighs. She still needs this reminder from time to time. "And Evan had his apple juice and Mister Ribbit, and he must have been comfortable. I got someone to watch them for half an hour, thought it was faster and less disruptive than trying to rush them into the car to come get you."

"It's fine, love, as long as everyone's okay."

"I'm sorry. Everyone is fine."

Cashmere's still squirming with guilt at what she put Annie through and trying to quell her impatience and keep a straight face without going completely flat, and so she startles when Annie interrupts her under-the-breath mantra to reach out and touch Cashmere's elbow.

"Did something happen to make you lose track of time? You just look so excited, but...serene, somehow."

"Annie!" Cashmere glances for a split second over at the passenger seat. "I thought you didn't like talking in the car."

"I had time to imagine everything that could have happened," Annie explains. "But now I think it was something good. Did Evan take his first steps?"

"No!" But Cashmere can't keep the corners of her mouth quite straight, and Annie's gotten into the game.

"Did he start talking all of a sudden? Is he going to surprise me when I walk in the door?"

"No. Sorry." Silently, she curses the traffic light. Change!

"Did you hear from Finnick?" When Cashmere hesitates, Annie leans all the way forward and twists to the side to get a good look at her face. "Cashmere, who's watching the kids?"

"He wanted to surprise you!" Cashmere surrenders. "Is this a good enough excuse for being late?"

"It's the best excuse. Drive faster."

As fast as she can drive is far too slow in this traffic, but finally Cashmere's bolting into the house, with Annie on her heels. They find Maggie sitting at the kitchen table with a pile of junk food, and Evan in his high chair, getting mushed peas spooned into his mouth.

Finnick grins at them when they stop in the doorway, staring. "Maggie told me this was Evan's chair, and Evan's food, and that I needed to give it to him to make him stop crying. She also told me this food over here was hers. I'm not sure I should believe her about all the cookies and all the pudding, but her name is Maggie, which means I just do what she says."

Annie doubles over with laughter. "I knew it! I knew it."

"I can't keep secrets from Annie!" Cashmere explains and apologizes. "She said I was too excited."

"You're still the most observant person I know, Annie." Finnick chuckles. Then he gestures toward Maggie and winks at Annie. "I didn't think I'd get in trouble for letting her steal dessert."

"Oh, dear," Cashmere says, coming up on the Evan-Finnick duo. Bad enough that she left Annie stranded on the sidewalk waiting for her ride after work; now she's not even being a good housekeeper. "Annie, I promise, I'll clean the dirt on the floor and in the car, and I'll get Evan into a clean change of clothes, and I'll do the laundry, and first I'll take a shower before I touch anything else." She wiped her hands on her shorts earlier, but she's wearing so many streaks of black that she's afraid to sit down anywhere.

"Cashmere, relax. I declare today a family party. We'll make a big mess and have lots of dessert to celebrate." Annie comes to stand beside Finnick and takes a good look at Evan. "Maggie may have left out a step. You're supposed to put a bib on him for the messy bits to fall on."

"Well," Finnick says unflappably, "I'm sure even Mags missed a step now and again when she was three. You have a strategist in the making here. Do I get a hug?"

"When he's done eating. You started this, you finish it." Belying her words, Annie wraps her arms around Finnick from behind, pressing her cheek to his back. Cashmere feels herself growing dizzy when Annie's hand meets his body. Hastily she pulls out a chair from the table and sinks into it. She wants to join them, but she knows she should give them a few minutes together first. "We got married," Annie tells him.

"I heard. Did you have a nice wedding?"

"Not a big one, but I made a cheesecake, and Cashmere picked out a bunch of flowers, and we tried really hard not to think about everyone who wasn't there."

"I'm glad you're here." Cashmere's voice wavers with tearful joy.

"Me too!" pipes up a chocolate-smeared Maggie, grabbing another cookie before Cashmere realizes she should confiscate the bag.

Laughter fills the house.

To celebrate, Annie defrosts the frozen pork she's been saving for a special occasion, and bakes it with apples. The rye bread is from the bakery, because she doesn't have the time or energy to cook everything from scratch the way she did in the Victors' Village.

This is better.

While Annie's getting the serving platters onto the table, Cashmere has Maggie counting out the plates for everyone. She takes a lot of pride in helping to set the table.

"She was a bit delayed for her age when we adopted her," Annie tells Finnick, "but she caught right up once she had a stable home."

"I'm adopted 'cause I'm the favorite!" Maggie tells Finnick excitedly, catching the word that's important to her.

Annie smiles. "That's what we've started telling her. We adopted Maggie because she was our favorite girl, and Evan because he was our favorite boy. I don't want Maggie not looking like the rest of us to be something that can be used to hurt her, especially when she gets older."

After a year, Annie's so used to Maggie's inky black skin and hair that it jolts her to remember that to outsiders, she looks like she doesn't belong. To Annie, she doesn't look different, she just looks like—Maggie. Cashmere burning in the sun instead of tanning is what's weird.

Finnick gives Maggie his full attention. "You know what? I was adopted too."

Maggie's eyes go wide. "Really? Because you were the favorite?"

"Exactly. And you know what her name was, the woman who adopted me?" When Maggie shakes her head earnestly, Finnick answers, "Mags."

Maggie's jaw drops. "That's like my name!"

"I know!"

Finnick laughs when Maggie throws her arms around his legs for a hug, and he ruffles her hair.

"You two look like you're hitting it off," Annie laughs. "Come on, everyone sit down, it's time to eat. Maggie, you can sit next to Evan if you promise not to throw food back at him. He's a baby. You're a big girl."

"Well, I gave her my dessert," Finnick says, taking his seat with a grin, "and told her I was adopted, so we're best friends now."

Finnick pulls out the chair next to Evan's high chair, and Maggie pops up into it. Once Evan came along, Maggie insisted she was too big for the high chair. It saved the cost of another one, and she is just tall enough, so they let her try it. It's been working out, except when she and Evan are behaving like a three-year-old and a one-year-old.

Evan's not ready to use a spoon yet, so Cashmere feeds him on his own meal schedule, but at dinner he gets to sit with the family and practice his motor skills on small pieces of food. Some goes in his stomach, some ends up all over the place, but Annie's just excited that he can feed himself with his hands now. The mess is worth it. She sets some bits of peach in front of him and sits down next to him, keeping a close eye on him. Cashmere's on the other side of Maggie, and Finnick's between Annie and Cashmere.

Cashmere is glowing with happiness. Saying nothing, just reaching out and touching Finnick from time to time, to remind herself that he's there, and radiating joy. Annie doesn't need words to know exactly what's going through her mind right now: the three-way marriage revived, and the two luckiest kids in the world.

Annie would love to believe it, and she tells herself that the chill in her stomach is unfair. That's her anxiety talking, telling her she can't have nice things. Just because Finnick never stuck around before—well, he always had a good reason. Everything's different now.

Annie smiles across the table at her wife and hopes her face doesn't reflect the panicked voice in her head. Run! Run before you get hurt!

After dinner, Cashmere and Finnick sit on the couch, with Evan on Cashmere's lap. Annie sits in the rocking chair, keeping an eye on Maggie, who's running around playing. Sometimes Maggie interjects an answer to one of Finnick's questions, or demands that he look at something. Annie's pleased that he always takes her seriously even when he's teasing her, and she wonders what's going through his mind. If he's thinking of Mags, if he wants to adopt children of his own. He'd be a good father, she thinks, if he's free now. And Maggie seems to agree.

"What news from Panem?" Annie finally asks, after two more hours about life here. If she doesn't ask, she wonders if Finnick will ever volunteer information. Which is odd, because he was always eager to be the first to tell about his day.

Finnick stretches, then folds his feet under him on the couch, shoes and all. Annie bites her tongue and tells herself it doesn't matter. He's home. That's what matters.

"Well, we won. Then we captured President Snow and executed him. You knew about this from your news?"

"Just the bare bones," Annie starts to interrupt, but she's interrupted by an agitated Cashmere.

"And then we didn't hear from you for two years, and we thought you were dead!"

Finnick looks apologetic. "I'm sorry, I couldn't get away. We won, but I was still afraid of the districts falling apart into another war. Too many people died to make things better. I couldn't just shrug off the tensions between East and West Panem."

"They're separate countries?" Annie asks, just as Cashmere makes a protesting sound. They both look at Cashmere, but she shakes her head, and after a minute, Finnick answers Annie's question.

"Yes. Pearleye stepped down in the west and elections were held. Plutarch's still running East Panem in military style, and that's a large part of what they can't agree on. Four's opposed to military rule, and Plutarch's refused to step down or to replace the standing army with a militia or at least institute a civilian government. He's not doing anything too awful, but everyone's worried about a second President Snow in a couple of generations.

"I've just been trying to keep them on speaking terms, keep the borders open enough that students and teachers can go east and west at will. Even if the two countries don't follow the same laws, they can watch each other's television channels. That sort of thing."

"So you've been busy," Annie says sympathetically. She can't help noticing he hasn't said a word about the war itself. Despite her overwhelming curiosity, she doesn't press. The fact that he hasn't started talking about it already tells her a lot.

"But you couldn't even send word that you were alive?" Cashmere cries.

Annie's lips are pressed tight together. She wants to be fair and remember that he was going through hell while they were getting therapy and renovating a house, but at the same time, she's fiercely protective of her wife, and Cashmere's been hurt.

Finnick pulls in on himself and looks down at the carpet. His voice is so soft that Annie has to interrupt and ask Maggie either to take her train to her room or tone down the sound effects a bit. Maggie chooses to go, saying she wants to color.

"I don't know if you'll think this is a good reason," Finnick says, sounding defeated before he's even started to explain. "Because, yes, logistically I could have sent word. But I wanted to be with you so badly that if I let myself have any contact with you at all, I wouldn't have been able to do what I needed to do. It took all my willpower to pretend coming here wasn't an option and stay where I was. I just kept balancing the image of you needing help with Mags being disappointed. I couldn't disappoint her. I'm sorry."

Cashmere pulls his unresisting head onto her shoulder, and Annie says quietly, "So it was bad, then? We asked around, and Plutarch said you were last seen seriously wounded, and even a year later, he couldn't find anyone who knew where you were, in East or West Panem."

"It was pretty bad," Finnick agrees. "Even after the war, it took me some time to pull myself together and start my diplomatic travels. I was lying low in Seven, resting and recovering from my wounds. I'd told Johanna I wasn't up for any work, and I found out later that she was telling everyone who asked that she didn't know where I was. I didn't ask her to do that, but she does things her own way. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were looking for me, and I assume neither did she."

"No, I'm sure by the time it got to her, it had gone through so many messengers it was unrecognizable. And I'm sure we weren't the only ones looking for you."

"No, you definitely weren't." With a shadow of his old humor, Finnick laughs. "I can just imagine Johanna lying through her teeth. 'I have no idea where Finnick is, but definitely not sleeping on the floor of my room.'"

"So she was there for you?"

"I don't think I would have gotten back on my feet without her."

"We would have gotten you back on your feet," Cashmere insists, cradling his head.

"I know," Finnick says tenderly. "But Mags died for Panem."

"I did predict you'd keep busy after the war," Annie tells him. "I'm sorry if it took all you had."

It sounds to her like it took all he had because he kept going as long as he had anything to give, and he'd still be there giving more if he could, but she doesn't want to upset Cashmere further, so she holds her tongue. He's here now.

"We should start getting the kids ready for bed," Annie says instead. "And Finnick, you look tired."

He smiles at her. "Always, these days. Cashmere, how do you feel about sleeping in the middle?"

Cashmere is astonished. "But-shouldn't you-?"

"We can take turns," Finnick says easily. "You start."

"Honeybees go first," Annie agrees. She guesses that Finnick, like her, is treading lightly around the fact that they were once married and not quite sure where to go from here. Cashmere is brimming over with uncomplicated joy, and it's easier to let her be the bridge for now.

"Annie, can we talk?"

Annie's heart sinks with an I knew it when Finnick turns to her on the second day with a significant glance toward the bathroom, where Cashmere is giving the kids a bath.

At his silent suggestion, they go out into the backyard for privacy. Cashmere's been at work here too, and it shows. Annie smiles at the blooming rosebushes and neatly trimmed hedgerows, and reminds herself that, no matter what, she has a good life here. Spotting a wand in the dirt, she postpones the conversation a little longer by bending over to pick it up before she sits down in her folding chair. One of the kids must have dropped it when they were blowing bubbles.

Finnick waits for her to sit up and make eye contact again, and then he says quietly, "I need your help to have this conversation."

"You're not staying," Annie guesses, and Finnick nods.

Okay, she says to herself. I saw this coming. She tries to feel pain, regret, something, but all she comes up with is dread. How's Cashmere's going to take this? That spurs a little instinctive fury, that Cashmere's going to be disappointed yet again. But Annie tries to repress her anger and be fair. He'll have a good reason, he always does.

"I wanted to see that you were doing well," Finnick says slowly, looking around at the yard and the back of the house, "and it looks like you are."

"Nothing's perfect, but this is pretty close. And it's all thanks to you," Annie adds. "I wouldn't have any of this if not for you."

Finnick smiles sadly. "I'm glad. I like to hear that I've succeeded at something. I've always told myself that no matter what, I did save Cashmere. And I introduced you, I suppose."

"Not only that." Annie wants to reach out to him, sweep that shadow from his eyes. "You were kind to her. And you made me feel like my life didn't have to end with the Hunger Games, that I could have a normal life after that. Have a boyfriend, go on dates, talk for hours, be there for someone else...Mags never gave me that. You did."

Then a surge of guilt hits her that she doesn't feel more. She does reach out, then, and wraps her fingers around his. "Listen, I want you to know, I did miss you. I thought of you every day for the longest time. But-"

"You were already used to that?" Finnick suggests wryly. He squeezes her fingers in return, then withdraws his hand back to his lap. The gesture speaks volumes to her.

He's moved on, then.

"Not just that," Annie says. "When we were married and living together as often as you could risk being traced to me, that was one thing. But I couldn't start on a new life if I was clinging to the old one. And the more I saw of this place, the more I understood what you saw in it for me. It was my only chance at feeling truly safe. I have a complete life here, and this may sound harsh, but I stopped seeing you as a huge missing gap in it. Just something wonderful that happened in the past and was hard to leave."

Silently, she begs him to understand.

"I wanted you to move on. That was the point." Finnick's voice is kind, even, reasonable, but it's so even it's almost flat, and on his strained face Annie can see what it's costing him to be so unemotional. Once upon a time, she would have pulled his head onto her shoulder, maybe even her lap, and let him pour all his feelings out over her, but now? She only follows his lead.

"I did move on," she admits, reluctantly. "I still have feelings for you, but they're muted. I wish you well, I'm glad you came, and I hope you have a good life. But I've changed a lot in the last few years, and I can tell you have too. We don't know each other any more. If life had allowed us to stay together, if we'd been changing together, then it would have been different."

"And if I did want to move in?" Finnick asks.

Does he want to? Annie can see why he wanted to have this conversation with her instead of Cashmere.

"You're always welcome here," she assures him. "We'd have to get to know each other again. I'd probably start to have feelings for you again. I didn't leave you because I didn't want to be with you any more. You were wonderful...when you were around. I'm not surprised to see you leaving. Everyone always talked about you not being able to settle down in the sense of being responsible, but I see you as the opposite. If you don't have enough problems to solve, you're going to be restless no matter how happy you are. I warned Cashmere not to expect you to stay."

"How'd she take it?"

Annie makes a face. "She hasn't moved on quite as much. She's happy here, but I don't think she ever stopped thinking of you every day and wishing with all her might she could see you."

"More loyal, less wise, maybe."

"Does it bother you that I wasn't more loyal?" Annie reaches out her hand again, and places it on the arm of his chair when he doesn't make a move to reach back. "Like I said, you'd be more than welcome to move back in."

Finnick shakes his head reassuringly, and he smiles faintly. "I think Cashmere's romanticizing. She never spent enough time around me to realize how much I get on her nerves."

Annie chuckles. "There was a time when there was nothing better in the world than you getting on my nerves. But she has better reasons for being in love with you than most people," she says, a little sharply.

"Oh, I know. I'm not criticizing. I just think I have better reasons for being in love with her."

Annie melts. "You didn't move on, did you? You just can't stay."

"I didn't, not from either of you. At least, my feelings aren't muted. Like you and her, I did build a life. Romanticizing or not, I don't see Cashmere packing up and leaving you, the kids, and her garden."

Annie shakes her head in agreement. Cashmere may desperately want Finnick to move in with them, but not even Annie's anxiety can scare her with thoughts of Cashmere leaving.

"Well, it was the same for me," Finnick says.

"You're with Johanna?" Annie asks. She may not have liked Johanna, but if she kept Finnick from being alone, Annie could kiss her.

"She's been my rock. There's no one I work with better, and we accomplished a lot. Including things they said couldn't be done. We had each other's backs, charged into the front lines together, and saved each other's lives. It's been...like you said, a complete life."

"I understand." Annie's overwhelming relief belies her supposedly muted feelings. "I'm glad she could be in your life in a way I couldn't. So you have someone to go home to?"

Finnick nods.

"Well, I'm happy for you. And Cashmere will be too." Eventually. "I'll talk to her."

"Yes, well..." Finnick hesitates. "That's not the difficult part. I'm not moving in, you understand why, we're all resigned. But the reason I need your help to have this conversation...I don't expect to come back to visit either."

For the first time, Annie's truly surprised. A shiver runs through her, but because he's asked her to help him with this, she doesn't say anything, make guesses, or jump to conclusions. She simply watches him closely while she lets him continue, getting out one sentence after another with his forced calm.

"You remember when Mags died."

"Of course." I'm sorry. Mags died, but Finnick had to go on living without her. Both those are deep wounds in Annie's soul.

"You remember how I took the brunt of the nerve gas and had to be dragged semi-conscious into the water," he continues, now completely flat. Even his face has gone expressionless. "Well, the water worked its magic on my skin the way it was supposed to. They always design the threats in the arena so that at least one person can survive them. I survived. But the water couldn't reach my lungs, and I breathed far too much of the gas."

"Oh, no." Annie's own breath stops short, her chest tightens, and her vision blurs. It feels like the beginning of a panic attack, but she can't afford a panic attack right now. Finnick needs her. Just a little longer, just hang on a little longer, and Cashmere can hold her while she melts down.

Right now, Finnick is speaking tonelessly, and he needs her to react the same way.

"It wasn't so bad at first. I was a little less athletic, but I could still fight. Now it's gotten so I can feel the difference even when I'm sitting down. I'm glad there hasn't been any fighting to speak of in years. If I start crying while we have this conversation, I'm going to trigger an attack where I can't breathe at all. I've done it enough times to know. That's why I'm—you can probably tell I'm holding back."

"Oh, Finnick." Annie holds out one arm, letting him decide if he wants to come to her for touch.

He doesn't, not yet. "There's no way to get sophisticated medical treatment any more in Panem. I had some exams done here last week. The prognosis isn't good."

Annie waits, then, when it looks like he doesn't want to say it, asks, "Fatal?"

Finnick answers her with one dip of his head. Fatal.

"How...much longer?"

"A year, two years. Not more than five. There are things I could do to stretch it out. Start carrying an oxygen tank, maybe. Spend a lot of time in hospitals. Get new lungs. But none of them is going to buy me more than a few more years. At most. Maybe nothing."

"And even that wouldn't be worth it?" If it were her, Annie thinks, she'd fight for every day she could get.

"It might be, under other circumstances. But I am just so...damn...tired, Annie. I came out of the Quarter Quell destroyed, and I've been running on adrenaline and willpower since then. Now it's catching up with me. The thought of going to sleep and not waking up, not having to solve problems, is more seductive than you can imagine."

"Oh, Finnick." Annie's heart cracks. She didn't mind him not moving in until just now, but now she's overwhelmed by the urge to put him in bed, find him a lung doctor and a good therapist, and feed him like there's no tomorrow.

"And if I weren't dying, I might be able to do whatever it takes to not be so tired. I'm not miserable, like Cashmere was, or terrified, like you. Only tired. Maybe it would pass with time. But I don't have time now. And maybe if I weren't so tired, I could fight for more time. But I can't. I can't do both.

"So instead of fighting my lungs and my exhaustion for my last few months, I just want a decent quality of life for as long as I can get it. I'm giving myself permission to stop solving problems. Then I want to go to sleep when it starts not being worth the effort of fighting."

"How long have you known?" Annie asks, cold with fear.

"Depends on what you mean by 'know'. I noticed right away that I got out of breath more easily when I sprinted, that I couldn't move as fast. I told myself I was just tired, it'd wear off, I was imagining it. I kept telling myself I was imagining it right up until I got a checkup here in Ayre, the first time I came, in case there was a quick fix. There wasn't. Then I told myself it wasn't getting any worse and as long as I could do my job, it was no one's business. Rudder figured it out."

"And Johanna knows?" Annie prods.

"I had to fess up eventually when I keeled over and almost died in front of her."

"Before or after I left?"

He's silent.

"Before, then. So you knew you had a serious condition and you never told me? And you never sent word after the war? I guess you never were coming back."

Finnick grits out, "Saying I didn't send word after the war because I didn't want to come back is like saying I let Mags die because I liked Peeta more. I did what I had to do no matter how much it killed me inside. Or outside. And if that doesn't seem like something I'd do, I guess when your time comes you can go commiserate with Mags about how I obviously didn't care about either of you. I let Johanna get captured, if that makes you feel better." He chokes on this part and has to stop talking.

When Finnick's hand goes involuntarily over his chest with a grimace of pain, Annie's heart breaks. How many times has he made that gesture, that he doesn't even think about it any more? And she's never seen it. Johanna has, she's certain.

"All right. I'm sorry. That is something you'd do."

Annie lowers her head and closes her eyes so he can't see her tears. She can't let herself cry if it'll start him crying and trigger a breathing attack. She has to be strong. Try to be like Mags. What would Mags do?

"How much of this tiredness is oxygen depletion?" Annie asks, when she's got her voice back. "Cashmere's told me about how tired she was when she came out anemic, after she almost bled to death."

Finnick smiles gently. "Johanna wants me to fight it. You know her, she's a fighter. I used to be, but...I also always knew when to walk away from a fight. Even at fourteen."

With an effort, Annie swallows back her urge to stand beside Johanna and fight. Instead, she raises her head and looks deep into his eyes. "So you're dying of the same nerve gas that killed Mags?"

Looking so intently, she sees the flutter of vulnerability behind the mask. "Perceptive as always, Annie. Straight to the heart. Yes, and it's one of the things I'm using to help resign myself to this. I don't want to die, but I don't have a choice, and if I let myself get emotional about it, I'll just kill myself sooner. I'm not really as calm about this as I'm pretending to be."

"Performing again?" she asks, disappointed.

"Yes, but for myself this time. I've decided I'm doing a lot of things for myself now, now that I can afford to and I won't have another chance. That's why I'm living with Johanna. It's not that I moved on, exactly. I think about Cashmere as often as she thinks of me, and if you asked me who I'm in love with, I think the answer would still be you. I try not to ask myself that question too often. Losing you hurt, and I'll always have the scars, but it was a clean break. It healed. Especially seeing you here having the kind of life you always deserved. Leaving Johanna would be another break, and I don't want to be raw for the rest of my life."

He says he's in love with her, and yet he doesn't want to move in. Annie doesn't know what to make of it, except that maybe love is just the beginning.

"But if you thought you had another fifty years, would you want to move in?"

"I miss you both. I'd try to come visit when I could. But honestly, I'm not sure I could take another open wound. Mostly what I feel these days is tired. I may not be miserable, but I'm not full of life either. Look, I've fit more into thirty years than most people could in thirty lifetimes. I've only got a couple years left, maybe, and what I've decided is that I'm going to do what feels right for me. Not the path of least resistance, but the path of least sacrifice."

"You've sacrificed a lot." Annie knows that the sacrifices she's aware of are just the tip of the iceberg.

Finnick's mask is still on, but his voice carries just a trace of huskiness. "I gave up Mags, I gave up you, I gave up Cashmere, I gave up my pride, I gave up my health, in a year or two I'll give up my life...I don't want to give up Johanna too."

"Are you going to be living in Seven?" Annie wonders. "Or Four? Sorry, I still think of them by the old names."

"Seven," Finnick answers. "North Panem. That's another thing. The air up there is very thin and not good for me. I'm losing time by choosing to live there. Here, with all the medical care available, would be best. Four would be middle ground. And Seven is where I've been living and putting down roots for the last few years." He hesitates. "I can't swim properly anyway." Saying that is the closest he's come to crying in this conversation.

That jolts Annie. "You can't hold your breath," she realizes.

Finnick just nods, trying to get his breathing back under control.

"You need me to help break this to Cashmere?"

He nods again.

"All right. Tell me about Johanna, though. She's good for you?"

"We're pretty stubborn about being there for each other. A while back, she started insisting I sleep in her room. You know how I am."

"It helps with the insomnia," Annie guesses.

"It did. I don't have insomnia so much any more. I'm too tired. I don't even have a startle reflex." He laughs a little. "I have a Whatever it is, I'm sure Johanna will handle it reflex. But it helps with the aloneness."

Annie smiles. "Still no sex, or...?"

Finnick shakes his head. "She's never been interested, and frankly it's a relief for me these days."

"And if she was interested?" Annie presses.

Finnick shrugs. "She's passionate about everything else in her life. I'm sure we'd be having great sex."

"Do you even know what you want, or are just mirroring what she wants?"

Finnick slumps. "I don't know. I'm probably mirroring. I've never had the chance to find out what I want. But since I don't know, can I just be content with what I have? It's a little late now to be figuring it out."

Aching, Annie makes the effort to shove her disappointment down where he can't see, because this isn't about her, it's about him. If all he wants is to die in peace, then she can give him that at least. "Yes, of course, I'm sorry. It'll be okay. Go be with Johanna. Don't be alone."

[A/N]: And this is where everyone comes after me with torches and pitchforks. SORRY NOT SORRY.