Chapter 2
Arwen had nothing to do but watch blankly as Finnick untied the rope. She felt a numbness burrowing deeply, straight to the bone.
“Sit down dumbass.” Arwen feels the resignation settle, and with her eyes closed, she heaves in a little breath. When she opens them again, Finnick has the rope down and both of them are looking at her.
She sat, picking at a stray fiber on the table cloth, eyes set firmly on her ragged nails. Pick, pick, picking. She can hear the clock in the other room tick, second after second. Johanna is sat to her right and Arwen can feel her eyes burning into her skull. The chair across from her is pulled out, and Arwen knows Finnick’s sat down.
She continues purposefully picking at the table cloth, refusing to meet their eyes or their judgment.
“Arwen,” Finnick’s voice is gentle, and her hand hesitates, before continuing its self-appointed mission.
“Arwen,” Finnick tries again, “You opened the door. Do you know why?”
At this, she stops. Looks up, face furrowed.
Finnick’s face is open, not a sliver of pity, not a hint of anger – he reaches out a hand slowly, checking for her reaction before gently touching her own.
“We can work with that.”
***
From that point onwards, there was always someone around. That first night, Johanna and Finnick didn’t leave. In fact, they had slept over the next few days. Arwen was unsettled. She had grown unused to company. When her family had died, so too had all her connections to others.
Finnick and Johanna continued to speak with her, follow her, cook, clean. She knew deep down she was thankful… but there lingered a sense of annoyance and resentment.
She didn’t know how to communicate with them, or even how to interact. She sat in the same room as them. Oftentimes staring out the window. She wasn’t offering them anything, so she wasn’t sure why they persisted. Except she did, didn’t she? She’d tried to do something, and she had failed at it because she had decided to let them in.
But even that had taken most of her energy, and she had opened the door out of irritation more than anything.
***
“Here.” Arwen startles out of her daze when something soft and struggling is shoved into her arms. Bewildered, she looks down.
A kitten is mewling in her arms, little claws digging into her chest as it tries to climb. Arwen looks up at Johanna at a loss, “Is this your cat?”
Johanna snorts, “Gods no. She’s yours.”
Arwen looks down again, at the little cat who is settling nicely now atop her legs, “Mine?”
Hesitant, she stretches out her fingers and watches the little thing sniff at her, before suddenly she curls up, offering her chin for a scratch, “What’s her name?”
***
That first night she kept her door closed. The cat’s intrusion into her life was subtle. She would sit in her chair, run wildly up and down the hallways and disturb the quiet. Her initial excitement had worn off – now she questioned whether or not she was capable of taking care of this little being, and whether she had the space to spare in her life.
As the days passed, she found herself growing gruffly fond of the little cat. Yes, she had practically destroyed her house but she also followed her around endlessly. She napped everywhere and chased dust motes and leaves. Arwen played with her and felt a little less hollow. On the third night, she left her bedroom door open. That morning she woke up with a sore neck and a purring, contented ball atop her chest. She decided she didn’t mind this intrusion. She named her Alice.
***
“I’ll be heading to the Capitol for a few weeks.” Arwen looks up from playing with Alice. Finnick had been making sporadic trips, but never for so long. This time though, he sounded restrained and nothing like himself, so she asks, “Is everything okay?”
Somewhere in the weeks, he’d been in her life, she’d grown attached. She isn’t sure how she feels about this development, but it wasn’t something she’d unpack now. His eyes are shuttered, and she knows the truth isn’t forthcoming, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You know where I am… If you need.”
He looks at her the way he always does. His gaze is open and so earnestly honest, “Sometimes I forget that not everyone knows. I don’t want to get into it, but if you ask Johanna she’ll tell you.”
Arwen shakes her head, “No it’s none of my business –”
Finnick is shaking his head, “No. I want you to know. I just can’t talk about it.”
Arwen nods once, “When do you leave?”
Finnick bites at his inner cheek, a habit she’d noticed he had when anxious, “Tonight.”
The silence after permeates. Arwen looks back down at Alice, then up at Finnick.
“I just got her a new tower. Would you like to help me build it?”
The afternoon passes like that, and the only thing that draws a smile out of Finnick is that after all of their work, Alice proceeds to settle and nap in the box the cat tower came in.