Finnick and Annie

Unexpected Arrival (Annie's POV)

My baby is dozing peacefully in my arms. He has soft, pale skin and his hair is a copperish brown like his father's.

The bedroom door swings open and in comes Finnick holding a tray full of food.

"There you are," I say. "I thought maybe you'd gone for a swim when I woke up and didn't see you in bed."

He smiles and sets the tray beside me, reaching for the baby so that I can eat. His eyes flutter open to reveal bright green irises that mirror Finn's.

"Sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to wake you up." The baby yawns and nuzzles his face against Finnick's bare chest.

I watch my boys and smile. Everything is perfect.

My eyes flutter open.

I'm in lying in bed with no baby in my arms, and Finnick's spot in bed is cold and empty like it has been for the past six months.

Tears prick my eyes, but the movement inside my swollen belly makes me smile.

"We're going to be okay," I assure him.

I'm not due for another month, but I can hardly wait. The thought of meeting our baby boy is the only thing keeping me going.

"What should we do today?" I ask. "Maybe a walk on the beach would be nice."

As my stomach gets bigger, it's harder to do anything, so lately I've been confined to my house. I visit the beach near the Victor's Village to get some fresh air and so that the baby can hear the ocean, but that's about it. Even walking down the stairs is a struggle.

I'm sitting on the living room couch, a bowl of cereal balanced on my stomach, when the doorbell rings.

I'm not expecting anybody, though sometimes the neighbors will drop by with some food, so it's probably one of them.

I groan, set the bowl on the coffee table and push myself off the couch.

When I open the door, the first thing I see is the wheelchair. On it is a man I barely recognize. He's pale and sickly, and his neck is covered in fading scars. His limbs are thin, and his copper hair has lost its shine, but the green eyes that look up at me take my breath away.

I must be hallucinating. I've dreamed of him hundreds of times, and he's always looked young and bright and beautiful. Maybe my brain is tired of torturing me in that way, so it's forcing me to see him in pain.

"You're dead."

I shake my head and take a step back, panic rising in my chest.

"I... no. I'm here," he says, snapping his eyes away from my belly to meet my eyes.

"They all said you were dead," I say, mostly to myself. "You can't be here."

"I swear I can explain, Annie," he says, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry, I never should have left you."

His face is screwed up in pain, and though I don't completely trust that he's real, I can't stand to see him like this. I take two steps forward and grab his hands, kneeling down on the floor so that our faces are almost at the same level.

"You're pregnant," he says, his voice filled with disbelief. "Annie, if I had known..."

I shake my head and squeeze his hands tightly. Sobs rack my chest, and I bury my face in his lap. I shudder when he runs his fingers through my disheveled hair.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry."

"What happened?" I try to get my breathing under control, but I'm not very successful. "Y-you're hurt."

"I'm going to be okay," he assures me. "I swear I can explain everything."

I struggle to my feet, and he pulls me onto his lap; his right arm coils around my waist, and his left hand rests on my stomach.

"It's a boy," I tell him. He gives me a teary smile, and my heart fills with joy.

I've never been so confused, but I've never been so happy. It doesn't matter that I don't know where he's been or why he's in a wheelchair because he's here now. We're here together, and soon, our baby will be here too.

"You're really back," I cry, caressing the pink scars on his neck. "Oh, Finn, I thought I'd lost you."

His hands travel from my waist to my face as his lips press soft kisses to my neck and collarbone. I dip my head, and my lips meet his. They're salty with tears, but they're warm and soft, and electricity courses through my veins.

Our gentle kiss becomes desperate. I've longed for his touch for months, and now I can't pull away. I never want to stop.

Finnick pulls away when our breathing grows ragged, but his hands hold mine firmly, reassuring me that he's never letting go.

"I love you," whispers Finnick, releasing one of my hands to rest his on my stomach. As soon as his fingers graze my bump, my belly bulges with a kick, and Finnick's eyes widen.

"I think that means he loves you too."