The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

You are as undiminished

C hapter Seventy | You are as undiminished

"But pride had the better of it in this struggle once again; he restrained himself with a tremendous effort of will." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

He sees her everywhere. It's impossible to miss her face when it's beaming at him from an ad on a webpage or the screen of the television. Every time he sees her, his heart falters in surprise, as if he doesn't expect her to be there. He thinks, sarcastically, that it's because he's been waiting so long for her that seeing her now, so many times, is like a shockwave that never ends.

When he receives Katniss and Peeta's wedding invitation, he ends up sitting on the steps of his porch and staring at the carefully written words for nearly an hour. He remembers the embossed, pretty cursive wedding invitation for him and Sil that he had gotten, once, back in the times before. He remembers his heart faltering in a similar way when he'd read their name on that letter.

It's funny, in hindsight, being invited to your own wedding. At the time it had been an agony in its own right, because he just couldn't fathom being a husband or anyone so important when the Capitol was breathing down his neck. Funny, too, how things change so profoundly when one mere variable is removed.

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Annie's sick. She doesn't know what it is, but for days she's been vomiting at the least opportune times. She says she feels otherwise fine, but Finnick is worried. She's the only other person in District 4 who understands the horrors he's been through, at least where they concern the Games themselves. Luckily, Annie had been saved from experiencing the unique brand of horrors that Finnick had underwent at Snow's hands.

He checks up on her every day, sometimes more. The thought of him losing his best friend and the only person who understands him innately makes his head spin. Despite the joy he feels at having total autonomy of his life, he's already lost too much to lose her, too.

Annie constantly tells him to stop worrying. He knows it isn't necessary. She's been seeing someone – one of the merchants who runs a stall in the marketplace and sells tackle and fishing gear. His name is Will. He's a nice guy. He's been bringing Annie soup to make her feel better, and she's been singing his praises to Finnick whenever he visits.

"I'm glad you're happy," he tells her one day. It's a bright and cheerful Saturday and he doesn't have work, so he had decided to visit her on his way into town. He's got a list of supplies he needs to purchase for the cottage, and he wants to see if one of the local carpenters can craft a dining room table for him. He hasn't had much luck finding one elsewhere.

Annie beams at him as she sits on the couch. She looks great. Almost like she's glowing. Finnick's never seen her so happy.

"Will and I are going out for dinner tonight," she tells him with that silly grin she wears whenever she talks about the man. Finnick chuckles at the sight of it and nudges her arm with his elbow playfully. She ducks her head bashfully but doesn't lose the grin.

"Where to?" he wonders idly. District 4 has never been a poor district, though they've had their fair share of troubles over the years. They rely almost entirely on the annual fishing quotas to fund the town, and some years are worse than others. Since the Capitol's strict trading regulations have been removed from the equation, trade has opened up to all the districts, and the economy has been booming as a result. There are even a couple of new restaurants opening up on the far end of town as a testament to the success.

Annie responds, "I'm not sure. Probably The Cove."

He hums in return, and haltingly murmurs, "Yeah, that's a nice little place. Very romantic." The smile he gives her is tight.