Ever published a fanfiction when you should be doing math homework or studying for those two tests next Monday which you haven't had time to do because of camp? This is a new experience for me, but I think I'm doing it pretty well.

Also new; Hunger Games fanfiction. Enjoy!

Dedicated to: Four of my friends. You know who you are. You know you're obsessed. You know I love you guys.

Everything moved and shifted into things darker than you imagined, moved at the speed of light so you had no idea what's going on. Or maybe you did. Either way, the only thing he could do was to stand there, back straight, chin up and trying not to scream harder than he'd ever tried to do anything.

Someone took Annie by the hand and brought her on the stage- she was in one of her dazes as usual. Not sure if she even heard her name called, but she realised what was happening quick enough.

I'll volunteer.

Finnick would yell it if he could.

But no; he'd have to hold his tongue. Maybe this wasn't the Capitol messing with him, and this was just a… A coincidence. A freak coincidence. A… A horrible coincidence… It made Finnick feel like he'd just been punched in the gut.

He'd have to try. If they found out about him in her life… If they found out about them. Well, there wouldn't be a her, and so there might as well not be a him.

He looked around tosee if anybody was going to say what he'd pay millions to say.

No.

Standing onstage wearing a simple dress, she was pushing her flowing hair over one shoulder, and it was clear that Annie didn't expect anyone to say it.

I'll volunteer.

She just looked at the crowd with big, reassuring eyes. She didn't blame them. Not for them leaving her to death, not for anybody who hadn't given her small, hungry family food over the years; none of that. She didn't blame anyone. Of course she wouldn't, she was Annie, Finnick thought. And that was one thing he loved about her. One thing he'd fight harder than he had in the Games to preserve. It was a tough job but…

I'll volunteer.

Annie was sitting on a wooden chair when Finnick got in. She was focusing on something small as usual; her fingers were tracing the carvings on the arm of the chair. She looked up as Finnick was easing the doors closed. She smiled at him and he just glided towards her, dropping to his knees in front of her. He held her face in his hands.

"Annie you'll… You'll be strong…"

"I'll try, Fin."

"Annie, you'll have to."

"I'll try Finn."

"If you don't, if it doesn't work out, just know that…"

"I know that the parade of girls in the Capitol is just for show, Finnick, I know. I know you never tried to hurt me. I know you never will." She said softly. He would never hurt her, she said. She trusted it, even. What was he doing right now? If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem.

It did Finnick in.

He buried his face in her lap and starting sobbing. Not the elegant crying that the perfect hero in stories has, but the terrible, heartbroken cries that actual people living actual things with actual emotions cry. When they lost everything.

She started twisting his hair, like he didn't just completely lose it while she should be the one crying.

"I'm so sorry, Annie… It's my fault. They're on my case." He said. He felt so out-of character. So unlike himself, yet this was him. This was him living the real pain that was a part of him.

"No, it's not you. It's fate. And odds, and probabilities and a bunch of other things. I'm 18; my name was in that ball. It's not your fault. And don't think about it like that, okay? Stop crying Fin, I love you. You shouldn't cry."

"I know," He said whipping his tears. "But I can't help it. I'm scared for you. If I could stop it…"

I'll volunteer.

"But you can't." Annie said. "So stop crying, dry your tears, make your eyes beautiful again, and be what you have to be. I'll see you on the train."

That'll bring you to your death…

But her voice was so calm, she wasn't rattled… Like she was still in her own little bubble and it'd take a while before her senses would start telling her what was happening. Finnick loved her, so, so much.

He got up, and did what she asked. She smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Better." She deemed.

"Annie," Finnick said. "You're the only one that I've ever told anything about the Games to. You know how hard it was for me, and I just want you to know that… That if I was in your category… I'd volunteer for you."

Finnick was gnawing at his nails- which he hadn't done since he'd stepped out of the arena 5 years ago. But now it was fresh again, except he'd nearly gotten to skin by the time Mags told him to stop it.

He looked over at the television screen, all the other mentors looking at the one focused on the tribute they were supposed to get out of the arena Annie was in her pod, holding a knife she didn't know how to use for anything more than gutting fish. Her hair was pulled back in a knot, a few strands already loose and swaying. Soft green eyes looked at the pile of packs and supplies. Finnick had a feeling she knew what she wanted in there, but that didn't help.

10, 9, 8, 7, a computerised voice counted.

He might just watch the love of his life die right here, in the first few minutes.

6, 5, 4,

He wouldn't volunteer anyone to carry that burden.

3, 2, 1

She was in the infirmary. As she kept getting fluids in her body, and pills that gave the effect of food and sleep, she kept crying.

Finnick just held her hand, and tried not to join her. He hated seeing her in so much pain. Twisting around in her bed. Crying. Yelling instructions at drowning tributes who wouldn't hear her. Shouting at Fisher to look out before he was beheaded, hours too late…

The last hours of the games had been action-packed and had gotten the adrenaline pumping.

Fisher had been beheaded, there had been a feast, and during that, someone from District 3 had been stealing from a campground, and triggered a weapon too big for her. In a moment of confusion, a dam had exploded, the arena had flooded and everyone had drowned or gotten lost in the flood before the mentors could send boats or floating devices out. The donations had flooded in as much as the water when news broke out to try and save tributes, but it was too late for them. Spare Annie. Spare Annie…

No; Annie had not been spared. She was not okay, lying there in a state Finnick didn't have words for. But Annie wasn't the same. She might never be.

"Mr Odair," the doctor said. "It's time for you to leave."

"Must I..?"

"Yes."

"But-"

"President Snow wants our victor to recover in peace." The doctor said.

Well I want President Snow to-

"Okay," Finnick said calming himself down. No use getting on Snow's bad side while Annie was at the mercy of his people.

He got up. He wanted to kiss her forehead or move her hair, but if the doctor thought they were involved romantically… He wanted Annie alive even more than he wanted Annie in his arms and okay. Her hand slipped from his, but Annie had a huge spasm and she yelled out "NO!" Finnick spun around to look at her. She looked sick, her hair plastered to her by sweat.

"Don't… Let… Go…" She told him. Then she shivered and put her hands to her ears and winced.

"Okay," He said sitting back down and taking her hand. "Okay, I won't let go."

"Ever?" Annie asked in doubt.

"Ever."

"Promise?" She asked softly and shakily. She looked like a little girl. She needed her teddy bear or toy or whatever. She needed her safety blanket. Finnick just hoped he could be enough.

"Promise." He said.

There went the idea of not looking romantically involved.

But Finnick just might like it.

Finnick's heart was beating at a familiarly fast pace. Drumming like if it was in a military parade. Crushed and lost like if his love's name had just been drawn from the reaping ball.

Not the most abstract metaphore since it just had.

Finnick felt his arms become heavier. No. Not again. It couldn't… Annie couldn't… She wasn't… It would have to be a series of coincidences to get her out, and even then, Finnick knew that because of Katniss, nobody would give Annie a break, or pity her, or ignore her, or let her hide. No. They'd kill any person on sight sooner than later, even if Annie wasn't just any person. To Finnick.

Annie would have to die, unless Finnick could convince the others in the alliance. Finnick tried to make his brain finish at least one thought; and that was 'what chances are there that they actually will?' His answer was 'not that great'.

Annie was onstage looking dazed and Finnick was about to just break down and cry in public.

And then someone said it. Finnick was sure he'd just imagined the words. After all, that's what he'd wished someone had said for years; when Annie went in, when a twelve year old's name was picked from the reaping ball, and a million other times. A million times since, but only one…

"I'll volunteer."

Finnick looked at Mags. Relief flooded in with worry when he saw her limp onstage with her cane. A cane. You didn't bring a cane into the Hunger Games- that was suicide!

Mags never was one for listening.

And then she looked over at Finnick from the stage and Finnick got it. She was sparring him. Sparring Annie.

He wanted to thank his mentor. He wanted to hold her close, he wanted to thank her, shower her with anything she wanted from him… She was like a guardian angel of this; she was keeping them safe when the whole world was against them.

But there was still a lump of angst, and the precedent of mourn and sorrow lying in the pit of his stomach. He knew that when she said it, Mags was volunteering to take a burden away from him, but also adding one, because she was still the second most important woman in his life.

Because after all, when you volunteered in the Hunger Games, you volunteered your life.

And sometimes, that included the love of your life.