A/N: In which Finnick arrives on the scene, with some choice words for the woman he happens to be in love with.

nox06: Oh, there will be many Finnick/Gemma moments in the next arc, since it will return the story to District 1. And overprotective Finnick will definitely make a comeback very soon. Any future HG fanfics I write are going to be separate stories. I've considered tying them in, but it doesn't seem like it would flow properly if I did. That said, I am thinking about starting something with Gale at some point in the future. I'll also be posting the first chapter of my Gloss/OC story, The Desert's Edge, in a week or so once the editing process is completely finished, so keep your eyes open for that if you're interested!

firstofhername: Understandable! He's in the majority of this chapter, which should help :)

OpheID: Thank you! My writing goal with this story was to write the entirety of it, since I've always had trouble finishing the longer stories that I've started. It was a personal challenge for me which turned into something a lot more than I expected. Glad you're still enjoying it! Tywin Lannister - wow, I've never thought of comparing Snow to him before, but I can totally see it. There is one more scene with him coming up where him and Sil have a little chat, so he's not completely out of the picture quite yet. Good point regarding Prim, I hadn't considered using that plot to further Sil's altered perception of Coin. This is why I appreciate feedback - it makes me see the story in a different light!

GBblahblahblah: Thanks! I really liked how Collins developed Coin's character too. The way she ended the Mockingjay was really good as far as Katniss's realization of Coin went. The next few chapters of this story will delve into that a bit more. And - the reunion is finally here ;)

Reviewerguest: Glad you're enjoying it! I was originally going to end the story once the war was won, but I couldn't bring myself to. I feel like there would have been at least some push-back in Districts 1 and 2 regarding Coin's new government, so I thought it would fit nicely into the story.

Bharm: I don't remember if Collins went too deeply into that in the books either. It's been a long time since I read them. And Gemma will be making a reappearance shortly! I think he might be my favorite original character in this story tbh. After Sil, of course ;)

remifoster1313: Felix's plot will definitely tie into the riots in District 1. The next couple of chapters will explain it further. We're getting into the final Scarlet Pimpernel scenes in this coming arc, which I'm really excited to post! This chapter starts with Sil making a few plans - until Finnick crashes into the scenes, of course ;)

If anyone is interested in checking out another drawing done by lottelc, who drew some pictures of Sil that I posted a while ago, she was generous enough to draw out the scene where Finnick and Sil are at Serena's shop in District 4, way back at the beginning of the story. Since I can't post it here on , I've put it up over on my Archiveofourown page. My username is CrashingPetals over there as well. Just scroll to the bottom of chapter 52 to see it! Thank you lottelc, you are, as always, amazing :)

On that note, I hope this chapter lives up to a proper reunion scene! Thanks for the reviews and I hope everyone has a great next few days until the next update!


Chapter Fifty Two | To the undercurrent of your smile

"Her heart seemed all at once to be in complete peace, and, though it still ached with undefined longing, a vague and delicious hope soothed it as with a balm." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

To anyone who did not know Silver Lamprey Cornelius – which is the majority of Panem – she appears to have an almost lazy, unhurried presence as she leans against the wooden railing of the second floor outlook. Her hands lay upon the polished wood idly, and there is a bored countenance to her face as she scans the rose gardens by the perimeter of the grounds. But, to the trained eye, she is tense and not so lazy after all. Her shoulders are set just so, and her chin is stubbornly lifted as her eyes peer down with subtle calculation, thoughts whirling and reeling with both possibilities and uncertainties.

When her PAAD lets off a gentle beep, she raises it to her face immediately, with a thirst that speaks very little of the boredom she outwardly maintains. And, upon seeing Tommy's name flash across the screen, Sil devours the communication with all the eagerness of a riled, wary animal.

"Where are you?" she asks upon opening the line of communication between them. She doesn't pause to share pleasantries. Her mind is far too tempestuous to bother with doling out such remarks.

Tommy's voice crackles into existence with a, "I've just arrived at Dorsey's shop. Is something wrong?"

Normally she might humor him with a simpered response dredged up from the recesses of her alter ego – the sort of inane flowery speech that she has spent seven years spewing left and right for the benefit of her own secrets – but today, she merely replies, "I believe there might be something very wrong. When is the soonest you can arrive at the manor?"

The question makes Tommy pause, no doubt surprised at the serious tone in which she murmurs the words. She can almost hear his worried frown.

"Give me a few hours," he tells her, knowing it won't be easy to make the trip. Through Dorsey's shop is not so very far from the manor, there's the issue of getting through the rebel soldiers who guard the grounds with undying determination. He'll have to prove to them that he is a part of their cause, which may take some convincing.

Sil expects this, naturally, and says, "Come as soon as you can. And bring some supplies with you."

The sudden request has Tommy immediately asking, "Supplies? What for?"

It is not such an odd question, really. They've won this great war that they have set out to do. There is little need for Sil to smuggle herself across borders or disguise herself from any wavering eyes. She expects this, too, but is unwilling to explain it to him in such an open place, where anyone could be listening in.

Instead, she just murmurs, "You'll know when you arrive. Bring the Factory uniform – and one for yourself. You'll be coming with me, if you're willing."

He is surely confused about this strange turn of events, and the reasons behind Sil wanting their borrowed uniforms worn by the Factory workers in District 1, but Tommy does not argue or ask further questions. He's accustomed to the way Sil operates, and he knows that he will understand everything once he reaches the manor.

"Two Factory uniforms coming right up," is all he returns with, and wonders, "Anything else?"

Sil's mouth twists into a subtle smirk as she peers down at the rose gardens.

"Only one thing," she murmurs, eyes flashing. "…Make sure you come armed. You and I, Tommy – we're about to witness something we've never seen before. You're going to want to be prepared."

Her words are vague and elusively construed, but Tommy seems to innately understand, or at the very least he seems to understand the he won't get much more out of her for now.

She severs communication. Her PAAD abruptly returns to its usual screen, and she immediately types a few messages to her other agents, telling them to meet her in District 1 as soon as possible – no matter the consequences. She will need all the help she can get.

As she hits 'send' on the last message, a voice suddenly interrupts her, causing her to whirl around in surprise with her hand flying to her heart.

"What are you planning?" Gale Hawthorne asks, head tilted and eyes blazing with curiosity. He has been walking through the halls on his way to the makeshift cafeteria the rebels set up to feed the soldiers when he had seen her standing unassumingly by the railing. Despite his previous beliefs about her character, though, Gale is starting to realize that there is nothing truly unassuming about the woman – especially, and most chiefly, when she is going out of her way to look unassuming.

And she looks very much so now, with her hand resting on her heart and her eyes wide with calculated surprise – a look that Gale is sure she has created for his benefit. He gives her an unimpressed glower that makes her wrinkle her nose, equally as indifferent.

"Gracious, darling, why should I be planning anything?" she questions as if slightly offended at the mere prospect, PAAD hanging loosely from her fingers. Its presence is hardly discriminating – Sil goes everywhere with the thing, touting it about even before her alter ego had been made known across Panem. For all he knows, she could merely be reading news articles or taking one of those silly quizzes that the Capitolites are so fond of.

He doesn't look convinced though.

Sil humphs and rolls her eyes at him. "Can't a woman get a bit of fresh air around here without the entire place getting into an uproar?" she asks, and smirks and adds, "Though since you're so nice to look at, my love, I suppose I can forgive you for your absurd suspicions."

She watches as her sudden flirtation makes him appear distinctly uncomfortable. He shifts his weight to his other leg – his only physical move – but Sil can see the way his eyes flash with the slightest edge of embarrassment. The sight of Gale Hawthorne looking embarrassed has Sil bursting into laughter, green eyes shining as she leaning against the rail. Only, she doesn't quite remember, in that moment, how injured she still is, and the pain that comes from her laughter is a harsh reminder.

It creases over her face in such a way that couldn't possibly be faked, and Gale forgets her aggravating aptitude for embarrassing him as he steps forward.

"You okay?" he asks, reaching her side and touching her shoulder in a friendly but unnecessary gesture. Sil is already recovering, straightening up and clearing her throat with a tight smile.

She glances at him and when she next speaks, she shows him just how recovered she is. She smirks widely and murmurs, "Your concern is admirable, darling. I've always loved a tall, dark, and handsome man you know. I'm shocked that women don't fall over their feet the moment they see you."

She simpers at him and, to her great delight, sees the slightest hint of a blush begin to creep over his cheeks before he forces it down and glares at her in annoyance.

"Would you stop that?" he demands, and Sil just snickers.

"Stop what?"

"Stop flirting with me."

She raises an eyebrow and smirks, "Flirting?" Reaching up to pat his chest in an almost patronizing way, she simpers, "Gale my love, I'm afraid I'm more romantically inclined toward the blonde hair, blue eyed variety, but it's ever so darling of you to make the effort."

The look of frustrated disbelief Gale sends her makes her begin laughing again – until a very familiar voice joins the already crowded veranda with a smooth, "What a relief. For a moment there, I thought I might have some competition."

With a jolt of true surprise, Sil whirls around to see Finnick blasted Odair leaning casually against the threshold of the veranda, arms crossed as he stares at her. There's this amused light to his eyes that makes her feel lost, so unsure she is as to the real nature of their relationship and of his own feelings toward her. As a result, she hesitates, completely speechless. It is a rare sight – one that Finnick immediately comments on.

"I know I'm built like a God, but you don't need to stare, sugar," he drawls, giving her a smug grin that makes his eyes blaze with mischief and amusement. Sil, though, can do little else but stare. His presence is so unexpected and shocking that she just grips the railing tightly, trying to avoid not being thrown off balance. It's a bit too late for that, though.

Last time she'd seen him, he was pressed against a dead-end wall with a bloody leg and an expression full of pain. She had been leading them through the streets to Dorsey's shop, but they had run into a group of Peacekeepers. Before sacrificing herself so that they might escape, Sil had done something – said something – to Finnick that…well…

She's nervous. She's nervous to face him. Last time she'd seen him, she didn't linger to hear his response to her abrupt and startlingly bold confession. There hadn't been time, and to be honest, Sil hadn't been entirely sure she wanted to hear his response anyway. She's still not sure.

Her continued silence makes Finnick tsk and shake his head. He steps forward onto the veranda and, not looking away from Sil, he murmurs, "You've got it pretty bad, sugar. You were definitely more talkative last time I saw you." A boyish, playful smirk plays at the corner of his mouth at the subtle reminder of the last words Sil had said to him – and the way the reminder makes Sil's face explode with a blush.

Even dressed as he is now, in his black combat gear and bandaged leg, Finnick Odair looks just as mischievous as he's ever had. And still ridiculously good looking.

He steps closer, hand joining hers on the railing as he cages her in. She's still glued in place, stiff, blushing, hesitant – but the brush of his hand against hers drags her abruptly back to reality. She jerks her eyes straight into his, mind whirling with thoughts that are probably better left unspoken, at least for now, and carefully paints on one of her masks.

Eyes suddenly bored and lazy, face bereft of blushing red, Silver Lamprey Cornelius wrinkles her nose and him and simpers, "Finnick, darling, you really ought to give a girl some warning – "

To her surprise, he cuts her off with a smirking, "It's way more fun to take you off guard."

And take her off guard he does indeed, for the way his mouth crashes down on hers is shocking and more than a little frightful. Her heart at once tries to beat its way out of her chest. The moment Finnick's lips touch hers, Sil is a goner – for a grand total of ten glorious seconds in which she immediately melts against him. And just as the kiss is getting good, and Finnick is wrapping his arms around her and cupping her face and deepening their connection, Sil wakes up to reality.

This reality comes in several measures. The first is the dull pain that shakes up from her back when Finnick's hand lays flat upon her injuries. The second is Gale's disgusted grunt as he leaves the veranda as quickly as he'd arrived. But it is the third that truly brings Sil's desire to heel.

She's the Sterling Nightingale. She has many more things to accomplish before she takes off the mantle she has worn these last seven years. It would not be fair to Finnick, or to herself, to allow this to continue. She is such a fool for ever saying those words to him during their last meeting. She's a fool for letting this happen when it will never work. They live in separate districts. When the war ends, what happens? She cannot leave her father – she will not – and Finnick would never leave District 4. He would suffocate in the arid, sandy landscape of her home. They both belong somewhere else, and that will never change, no matter how much she yearns for things to be different. Perhaps she is thinking too far in advance, but Sil is nothing if not a realist.

She abruptly pulls herself from his kiss, tearing off the veranda before he even realizes what's happened. She doesn't run from him, per se, but neither does she make it easy for him. Her pace is fast and quick, despite the way the movement tears at her back.

She fully expects the way Finnick reaches out to her and grabs her arm – fully expects the way he pulls her around to face him – and is ready with an explanation that she immediately spews before he can get a word in edgewise.

"I thought we were being filmed!" she exclaims, referring of course to the way she had told him she loved him in the streets of the Capitol. It's a lie, a sad pathetic lie, but to her complete surprise…Finnick's eyes flicker with what almost looks like acceptance. Has he truly fallen for her cover up so easily?! She's almost offended!

"…You thought we were…you mean for the propaganda films?" he inquires. There's something flat in his voice. It isn't anger or even disappointment. It almost sounds like exhaustion.

He is tired of his feelings for her. He's tired of wanting her so badly and never getting to have her. He's tired of pretenses and lies to keep other people happy – he wants the truth, now, so that he can be happy. He thinks he deserve it. Happiness, that is.

Sil has no idea what he's talking about, at first, until she remembers the films Katniss had done for District 13 to help turn more rebels to 13's side. She falters for a split second before answering, swallowing back another wave of deceit as she watches herself throw her own desires away, yet again.

"Yes – the propaganda films. It seemed like such a splendid moment, you know, and I – I…" she trails off, staring at Finnick with strangely serious eyes. He isn't looking at her anymore, though, and her heart breaks a little bit at the way he can so easily believe her. She can hardly blame him, but it still disappoints her.

She has lied to him so often already that it should hardly surprise her that he is taking her words at face value now, of all times. Now that there is seemingly no further need to pretend, because there is no Snow to placate and no Capitol to convince. And yet nothing is ever so simple – not even love.

He laughs. It sounds bitter. It makes her skin prickle.

With a chuckle that is entirely bereft of amusement of any sort, Finnick glances up at her and drawls, "So you don't actually love me. That was just a stunt you pulled, just like all the others."

The flatness of his voice reminds Sil of the barrenness of her homeland, the empty expanse of the desert horizon. It is now the sound of her heart as it beats out a declining tune, perfectly mirroring the levelled parallel of the landscape she calls home – like lackluster gems that are cut so many times, they lose their spark of beauty forever.

She couldn't precisely say why this lie has come to her. Her realistic thoughts will chalk it up to her duties yet to come – to the actions she still must take. She tells herself that it would be unforgivable to give him hope and then take it away if she does not make it out of District 1 alive. Better to let him think so little of her than to make him happy for one second, and then miserable for the rest of his life.

And yet…

She knows, deep inside her, that this is not the real reason for this new brand of deceit. There is more to this punishment that she now pushes into the spaces between them.

She is afraid of love. She is afraid of showing someone who she really is. She is so accustomed to hiding herself away that she doesn't even know how to be herself anymore. Her childhood self is unattainable now. She has grown up too quickly, shed that skin too completely, for her to ever return to it. She only knows how to be the Silver Lamprey Cornelius that this man loathes. She only knows how to be the Sterling Nightingale that constantly spins everyone in circles.

She does not know how to love him. Does he not deserve someone who is far better than her? Someone who does not shy away from the love he so earnestly gives? His heart is so big, and though he does not show it off to very many people, Sil sees it clearly. She feels utterly undeserving of him.

She swallows, shoulders tense, and forces herself to look at him right in the eye as she says, "It was a stunt. An act. I'm sorry, Finnick."

Her heart cries out with the betrayal of her words, but she ignores it.

Finnick shoves his hands into his pockets and studies her.

"You're sorry," he repeats. His expression looks bland – not at all like the mischievous, playful light it had contained only minutes before. He raises an eyebrow and muses slowly, "I'm not so sure I believe you, sugar."

With a start, she stares at him, caught off guard at his words. What doesn't he believe? Her apology, or the rest of her claims? Her heart thuds, but again she ignores it.

He takes a step forward and murmurs, "See, I've gotten pretty good at seeing through you. You have certain tells. For example," he breathes, edging closer, "when you lie, your nose twitches."

Sil gapes at him and splutters, "My nose twitches? Gracious – "

"Why are you lying to me?" he demands, cornering her against the wall with blazing, determined eyes. Suddenly there is nothing flat in his voice or his face – his whole being shines with a resolution that sends shockwaves through her body; miniature hurricanes that rattle through her bones and shake her spirit.

She stares at him with wide eyes, and mutters, "What makes you think I'm lying to you? Our entire relationship has been an act. There was never anything real between us from the very beginning."

It's true, at least on the surface. But somewhere in between the lines of real and unreal, merging swiftly over the barriers put in place by the Capitol and by their own agendas, nothing is so black and white.

Finnick breathes out slowly and agrees, "That's true. We didn't exactly get off to a normal start, but that doesn't mean there's nothing between us." She remains silent, so Finnick edges forward a little more and whispers, "You told me you loved me. Say it again, Silver."

She is tense and unyielding, mind spinning out of control at both his proximity and the soft undertone of his voice. This man is, perhaps, her biggest weakness. When he is around, she loses sight of everything. But she clings to her duties now, because she is not yet allowed to put them aside.

She doesn't say it again, much to Finnick's disappointment. Instead, Sil merely raises a hand to brush her fingers over his cheek. He's got stubble on his jaw, and she shivers at the scratchy feeling of it over her fingertips.

He stares down at her as she leans forward to press her lips against his cheek. As she does, she breathes, "I can't do that, Finnick."

He closes his eyes at her proximity and the cadence of her voice so close to his ear, and murmurs, "You can't, or won't?"

The question makes her chuckle. When she pulls back, her eyes gleam with the very same intelligence that used to throw him for a loop, back when he hadn't known who she truly is. He thinks the spin of it in her eyes is utterly radiant.

She pats him on the cheek and twists her mouth up into a slightly bitter smile.

"Does it matter?" she wonders, hand sliding away. "I have only one goal, Finnick, and it isn't falling in love."

No, because she already has fallen in love. She's fallen so deeply and so surely that it is almost impossible to remember the rest of her duties.

Unlike before, he doesn't look so very disappointed with her words. He seems to see something in her that she cannot hide, no matter how hard she tries. Instead of disappointment, Finnick just raises an eyebrow at her challengingly.

"Well I have only one goal too, sugar," he whispers, catching her hand and drawing it to his lips. She holds her breath as he presses a kiss against her forth finger of her left hand, which is currently absent of the ring he had placed there weeks ago during the marriage ceremony Snow had forced them into. That ring is now hanging around her neck. Despite the circumstances of its presence, she cannot bring herself to be completely parted from it.

Finnick smirks at her and says, "I'm going to hear you say those words again. I'll be here, when you're ready."

His determination and his confidence shock her. She stares at him with uncontained surprise, face morphing with it as her green eyes gleam into his. Finnick, for his part, just smirks wider and slowly releases her hand, squeezing it gently before he lets go. And then, with a wink, he turns around and starts to walk away, only to call out, "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other a lot over the next few days, sugar. I look forward to making you give in!"

And, once more, Silver Lamprey Cornelius can only stare at Finnick's departing figure in speechless shock, completely blown away yet again by the man she has unwittingly fallen so deeply in love with. The man that, despite the overarching odds, has not left her side even in spite of everything she has done, and everyone she has pretended to be.

She was right, way back when Finnick had initially entered her life all those months ago. Finnick Odair is perhaps the only man in existence who can set her heart ablaze, and it is not so very simple to untangle herself from him after all.