It was pitch black when Laurel finally left, after sending a variety of messages. She was thankful that Cordelia had agreed to take the night shift of the radio. Creeping through alleyways and lawns, Laurel snuck back to Victor's Village, where the mansions on the seashore contrasted greatly with the fishermen's huts down the road. As a result of the rebellion's actions in District 4, a strict curfew had been imposed, and Peacekeepers patrolled the streets. Laurel let out a sigh of relief as she finally got to the home, opened the door, and closed it behind her.
The house was dark and cold; she had left the window open, allowing the crisp night air to make its way inside.
"Finnick?" Laurel called out, wondering where her brother was.
Idiot, Laurel told herself when she suddenly remembered, he said he was going to spend the night at Annie's. Meaning, Laurel didn't have to ask Cordelia to take the night shift.
Turning on a few of the lights on the main floor, Laurel then ran upstairs to quickly put away the papers hidden in the bag. The first thing she did once she got to her room was quickly close the thick curtains that hung over the grand windows. She placed her bag on her desk and grabbed the stack of messages from the secret pocket. With the papers in hand, she walked to the wall across from her bed and climbed into the massive fireplace that consumed much of the panel. It had taken her a while to figure out where to hide the messages. Under the floorboards seemed to cliche, while other alternatives made the papers not easily accessible. The chimney was the best solution, even though it was the messiest. It helped that Laurel stopped using it long ago.
Once she did so, she made her way downstairs to make herself some food, despite it being nighttime. Most days, Laurel forgot to eat, and today was no exception. In the morning, she had been so concerned about Annie's outburst, she had forgotten about her breakfast. At lunchtime, Laurel had meant to spend the meal with Mags, but an emergency message from Paylor had come up. And dinner… well, Laurel had simply lost track of time while she was organizing the mass amount of messages they had received. Hunger had finally caught up to her, and Laurel stepped into the kitchen in order to cook something up. Settling for a simple meal of baked fish and some roasted vegetables, Laurel began prepping what she needed.
The house was eerily quiet, something that Laurel had grown accustomed to over the years. In a way, she had learned to appreciate the quiet. It allowed her the space to think, without fear of interruptions. In the beginning, Laurel had always hated silence.
Especially after Mamie's murder…
Laurel shook away the memory, pushing it back down into the deep recesses of her mind. Instead, she focused solely on her meal, allowing her hands to take control as she began chopping and seasoning. She already put everything in the oven when Finnick snuck in.
"Oh, hello," Finnick awkwardly greeted upon seeing Laurel in the kitchen.
Laurel waved back. She was surprised to see Finnick. Normally he would take every opportunity to spend time with Annie. It wasn't normal to see him back, much less in the middle of the night.
"I thought you were spending the night at Annie's?" she asked, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
Finnick simply shrugged. Laurel noticed that his gaze appeared somewhat unfocused.
"I don't know," he said, "I just decided to come home."
Laurel nodded. Her heart panged, knowing that something was severely impacting her brother, however, she knew better than to ask. Finnick would never tell her. Finnick didn't need any further explanation.
"Why are you cooking?" he asked with a confused grin on his face, "Nightime munchies?"
"Oh, I just forgot to eat today," she said nonchalantly, glancing at the clock which, to her surprise, showed that it was well past midnight.
"Well, I guess I forgot to eat yesterday," Laurel jested, "I didn't realize it was already today."
"You forget to eat often?" Finnick asked worriedly.
"No," Laurel lied with a smile on her face. Just one more lie on top of the many she had already told. "I just forgot to eat between going to Annie's, Mags's, and running other errands."
Finnick nodded, obviously not believing Laurel's answer, but letting it slide nonetheless.
"Do you want some?" Laurel offered, "It will be ready in about fifteen minutes and I made plenty."
Part of Laurel, the part that still believed Finnick wasn't a shell, hoped that he would say yes. That the two of them would sit down at the counter and talk as if the world wasn't weighing down on their shoulders. That they would sneak up onto the roof and watch the stars as they did before the games when they still lived with their parents in a small cottage by the shore.
"I think I'm just going to go to bed," Finnick said.
Laurel nodded, hoping that her disappointment was not evident on her face.
"Of course," Laurel said, "you've been gone for a while. You should rest."
Finnick nodded yet again, his sea-green eyes making him look although he was in pain.
"Hey," Laurel said kindly, "Are you okay?"
Of course, the answer was no, but Laurel couldn't help but feel sad when all Finnick could do was nod yet again and mutter out:
"I'm just tired."
Finnick then wished Laurel goodnight before going upstairs. Laurel didn't bother trying to stop him.
Once again, the house was silent. This time, however, Laurel hated the silence.
Sighing, Laurel began cleaning the kitchen while waiting for her food to finish. Worry continued to plague her mind, with concerns about her brother, Annie, District 4, and all the other districts creating a tornado of fearful thoughts. Laurel wrapped her cardigan tight around herself as though the fabric would protect her from the thoughts that ravished her mind. When she finally sat down to eat, everything tasted like ash. She was only able to get a few bites down even though her stomach ached with hunger. Putting away her meal to hopefully be able to eat tomorrow, Laurel turned off the lights and went upstairs to her room.
~888~
Sleep never came easily to Laurel. Even when she was a little girl, Laurel would spend entire nights tossing and turning, until she would simply get out of bed to play with her toys, much to the demise of her parents. Before everything, Finnick used to be the only one that could get Laurel to fall asleep. Now, instead of playing with toys, Laurel worked on plans, and instead of someone helping her sleep, Laurel would keep working until morning. Most days, it didn't bother Laurel. Her body had grown accustomed to the lack of sleep. However, with the added stress of worrying for her brother and working on a rebellion, her insomnia was being fueled by anxiety rather than a normal aspect of her life.
Without bothering to turn off the light in her room, or even change into pajamas, Laurel sat at her desk and went to work. She would not be able to sleep anyway; why waste time trying?
Working on the rebellion was a never-ending task. Meetings were constant, both with the leading force and the general public. Laurel was also the only one who could contact the Capitol and District 13, which meant any requests to those areas had to go through her, and also lead to her being an extremely important contact for all of the districts. Laurel was also the leader of the District 4 rebellion, which even though she had the help of a leading force, still required immense amounts of both direct and indirect involvement. Although it left Laurel exhausted and stressed, it was worth it if the outcome was ridding Panem of the Capitol's regime.
Laurel began working where she left off before leaving for the meeting.
"Athena Marine, this is Sirius Love, and I am happy to tell you that Samantha did not enjoy the Woods. In fact, she detested it. She complained about the rabbits because they were eating up the flowers. She is hoping to receive some Peonies and Grain to put in the Woods. She is desperate to do anything that might bring beauty back to the Woods"
The messages worked via code. It was an extremely necessary component of communication between districts. Although the Capital was, as to their knowledge, unaware of the communication line, there still needed to be multiple codes in place in order to send messages. Every district was assigned a location. The Woods, for example, was District 8. District 4 was The Town, the Capitol was The Prison, and District 13 was The Church. The code names had nothing to do with what the District produced or was known for. District 12, for example, was called The Beach, despite it having zero access to any beaches. It would also rotate on a monthly basis. This month, for example, 13 was The Church. However, next month, it would be called The Beach and the Capitol would be called The Church, with District 1 being given the title The Prison, so on and so forth. That way, if someone were to send a message using the wrong codename, it would be easy to identify the leak, when it happened, and most likely which districts were involved. So far, there had yet to be a leak, however, the safety precaution was necessary.
Anyone with authorized use of the radio was given a code name. That way, districts could keep track of who was supposed to use the radio. No code name? No message. Each code name is also given a unique passlock that when spoken over the radio, allows them to send messages. If the code name and the passlock do not match up, once again, no message, and a red flag is sent throughout the frequency. Sirius Love is Commander Paylor. Laurel's codename is Athena Marine. Alma Coin chose the name Raven Begonia for herself. Plutarch Havensbee went by Maverick Fox. He said it sounded cool. Laurel was the only one that knew the latter two's code names, as well as the extra code necessary to make contact with District 13 and the Capitol, making her extremely valuable. She was also one of the few members that did not make their identity known. Meaning, everyone knew her as Athena Marine, including Coin and Havensbee. Only those in 4 knew she was Laurel Odair.
Items discussed in the message are also coded. Samantha refers to the status quo or situation report. Rabbits are known as peacekeepers, and flowers are the general term for resources. Peonies and grain directly translate into money and supplies. In short, the message read that it was sent directly from Commander Paylor, requesting aid in the form of money and military supplies in order to combat the massive amount of peacekeepers in the area.
On a notepad she used for meetings, she added The Town, peonies to the already extensive list of topics of discussion for the next meeting. Later, she would go through and pick the top three or four issues to discuss with the group. The rest she would deal with herself. Then, she crumpled the note and tossed it in the wastebasket. At the end of the night, Laurel would burn everything in the wastebasket.
Laurel read through the next paper and did the same. Then the next… then the next… then the next. Soon the list spanned almost two pages and birds were beginning to chirp outside despite it still being dark. Laurel got up from her desk and stretched. It was normal for her to lose track of time when going through messages. Most days, it would be sunrise when Laurel decided to finish. She was surprised that she finished early.
She rubbed any form of sleep from her eyes and went over to her nightstand where she kept her lighter. Tossing the lighter into the wastebasket, Laurel grabbed the container, opened her window, and climbed out.
The houses in Victor's Village were disgustingly extravagant. They had miniature towers, balconies, and many other features that were unnecessary. This also meant that the roof was made of many different heights to accommodate for the extravagant architectural features. Laurel nimbly made her way to a section of the roof that shielded her on all four sides. It was also conveniently near the many chimnies of the mansion. In other words, it was the perfect place to burn her notes. Laurel brushed away the remnants of yesterday's ash and made a neat pile using the slips of paper from her wastebasket. She lit the bottom piece and watched as flames soon grew and the paper burned. In the east, the sun's purple, pink, and golf rays began peaking over the horizon. The entire area was silent, except for the birds that continued to chirp and the gentle lull of the ocean down below. Closing her eyes, Laurel could barely make out the rustle-and-bustle of the fish market farther south, and the steady thrum of the processing plants. She knew that this hour was the busiest for the market; fishermen that had left before the sun had even begun to rise were making their way back to shore. Boat owners would be making their way down to the market to inspect the catch, the necessary quota would be immediately shipped to a processing plant then sent to the Capitol, and everyday people would be walking through the various booths, hoping to get the freshest fish possible.
Laurel smiled fondly as she thought back to when her mother would take her to the market. The sun would be barely rising, just as it is now. They would walk the aisles together before asking the local fisherman to bag their purchases. They would wait for Laurel's father to come in from the sea and sometimes her mother would sneak her a salted caramel. Her mother would leave Laurel with their father and go off to work as a cleaning lady in the wealthy neighborhood adjacent to Victor's Village.
Her father, despite being exhausted from a long shift at sea, would always greet his "Laurie-Lane" with the biggest smile. His beard would be crusted with sea salt and his cheeks would be rosy from the wind exposure. Laurel smiled fondly, remembering how her father would always sweep her mother into a romantic embrace, even though they were in the middle of the market. He would walk with Laurel back to their cottage, drop off the fish her mother had purchased, wake Finnick, then walk the two of them to school. He would almost always be singing throughout the home while Finnick got ready for school. Laurel loved sitting on the kitchen counter and watching her father bustle around the house.
They are all gone… because of-
A flock of seagulls flew overhead, startling Laurel from her daydreams. The day was slowly getting brighter, and Laurel could barely hear movement from inside the house; Finnick was up. Her papers were mostly ashes, therefore Laurel placed the wastebasket over the pile to suffocate the flame. Once she was satisfied with the state of the parchments and the lack of fire, Laurel gathered her things and climbed back down to her bedroom.
After putting the materials back in place and hiding her notepad, Laurel decided it was time to start her day. This time, however, she hoped she wouldn't forget to eat. As Laurel walked around the room, organizing and grabbing things, she could tell that she needed food. Although she had long learned to ignore the panging in her stomach, she couldn't push aside the lightheaded feeling as she made her way to the bathroom for a shower. Yes, breakfast was in order.
She turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm. The showers in the mansion were excessive, to say the least. Almost all of them had two or three showerheads, and they produced instantly hot water at high pressure. Back at their cottage, they had water, however, it never got warm. If you wanted a warm shower you would have to fill a tub with boiling water from the stove. Luckily, all the homes in District 4 had running water, making the task less arduous. According to Finnick, this was only true in about half the districts. In the other half, only a few of the homes had running water, with the common sight being none.
Laurel was grateful for the warm, pounding water as she let it wash away some of her exhaustion and stress. Her fingers worked nimbly to wash and condition her hair, then began the long process of detangling her coarse waves. When she was done, she shut off the water, then quickly dried and dressed. She cleaned up the bathroom, then walked back into her room.
"Hello," Finnick softly said with a small smile on his face. He was dressed and sitting on the small stool next to her fireplace.
Laurel's mind went to her notes hidden up the chimney. She immediately froze in surprise and couldn't help but blurt, "What are you doing here?"
Finnick's face flashed with hurt, but it was quickly replaced by a smirk. Laurel felt bad for letting her tongue slip, but she was genuinely confused and surprised. First, he was home a week early. Second, he asked her how she was doing. Third, he came home early from Annie's house. And now he was in her room. It wasn't a bad thing that the two never really interacted anymore. As Finnick became more and more wrapped up in the Capitol, Laurel was a cruel reminder of his life before. Especially after the deaths of their parents, Laurel could tell Finnick was struggling to be around her. When Laurel began working on the rebellion, she also struggled to be near him. Then, Annie came along and for once Finnick was happy, and as a result, Laurel was happy too. The two drifted and for the past three years, they have not had a single valuable conversation. So, now that the past day has resulted in Laurel seeing Finnick more times than she normally does in a month, she can't help but be surprised and worried.
"Sorry, that came out much harsher than I wanted it to," Laurel quickly stammered out.
"No, no, you have a right to be surprised I guess," Finnick said, "we don't really talk much anymore."
Laurel nodded, agreeing with Finnick's words. After a while, none of them said anything more, and like most times, the silence was suffocating and awkward. In an attempt to alieve the situation, Laurel went to hang up her towel, grab a comb, ties, and sat in front of her mirror to do her dripping wet hair. Finnick said nothing.
"So," Laurel began, trying to figure out the best way to ask Finnick what was going on, "what brings you to the office of Lady Odair."
She said the last bit with a smile, flamboyantly gesturing towards the room around her.
"Just wanted to talk about some things," Finnick said with yet another small smile and a shrug. He then got up from the stool, grabbed it, and sat back down right behind her.
"Here, let me," he said gesturing to the comb and the ties.
Laurel looked at him through the mirror in surprise. It had been years since Finnick had done her hair. When they were little, Finnick would do her hair while they sat outside the school building waiting for the gates to open. Their mother never had time before taking Laurel to the market, and their father knew nothing about hair despite being an expert at knots. After Finnick won the games, he still tried to keep up, however, the stress of the games alone was enough to break anybody. Paired with pressure from the Capitol and is expected to mentor the following year, Finnick spent most of his time locked up in his room. Laurel walked to school alone.
"Come on," Finnick begged with sarcastic puppy eyes, "let me do your hair. Like old times."
Reluctantly, Laurel gave her brother the comb and held the ties in her lap. Most days, she styled her thick waves into a sleek bun at the nape of her neck. Knowing Finnick, however, her hair was most likely going to be more elegant than she was used to.
"So…" Laurel said while she fidgeted with the ties in her hand, "what did you want to talk about."
He didn't answer for a bit. Laurel could feel Finnick begin to braid her hair.
"I'm sorry I haven't talked to you much," he finally said, "I should be more-"
"Don't apologize," Laurel quickly retorted, cutting off her elder brother, "never apologize. Besides, I also have never made much effort to talk to you."
"But you have," Finnick protested, "almost every time you see me, you ask how my day's been. Or you check-in to make sure that I am ok. And I never give you an answer. I just go to my room or escape to Annie's."
"Yeah, but I could have pushed harder," Laurel added, her eyes never leaving the ties, "we're both to blame."
She couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as Finnick braided her hair. After so long… it felt weird to be doing actions that were once considered normal for them. It made Laurel feel as though they were casually avoiding the world around them, and that didn't sit right with her. Nothing could ever go back to what it was, no matter how hard someone tried. There was no point in pretending. As a result, Laurel found herself becoming more and more concerned with what Finnick needs to talk with her about.
"I'm assuming that isn't all you wanted to talk about," Laurel said.
"Sorry," she added, "it's not that being here and doing my hair and asking how I am isn't enough or I don't appreciate it but…"
"But it's abnormal," Finnick finished.
He beckoned for a hair tie, which Laurel provided, and tied off the braid. He then began working on the other half of her head.
"I wanted to talk to you about Annie," Finnick said.
He almost appeared somewhat nervous. This immediately got the gears in her head rapidly spinning.
Why would he want to talk about Annie…
"What-what," Finnick stammered.
Finnick never stammered.
"What do you think about her?" he finally said.
Laurel was even more confused by Finnick's question. He knew that Laurel cared for Annie greatly. In fact, they talked more about Annie than they ever did about anything else. For the past few years, Laurel had truly gotten to know Annie through taking care of her and Mags. Sure, she had demons, but who doesn't? Hers just happens to confuse her thoughts sometimes. It never bothered Laurel. At times, her outburst would make Laurel fear for Annie's safety, however, they are such a small part of who Annie is. Annie is kind, and patient, and wonderful, and has a quick sense of humor. In a way, she reminds Laurel a lot of Finnick before the games; willing to see the good in everybody. Most importantly, Annie made Finnick happy. Even if Annie was a horrible person, Laurel would care for her simply because she made Finnick happy. That was worth everything.
"She's amazing," was all that Laurel said with a genuine smile on her face. For the first time that conversation, Laurel looked up in the mirror so that Finnick could see the smile on her face. He smiled back upon noticing the joy that appeared when Laurel talked about Annie.
"And she makes you happy," Laurel continued, reverting her gaze back to the hair ties on her lap, "that is all that matters to me."
Finnick's fingers deftly finished braiding the last of her hair while Laurel waited for him to say something more.
"I'm going to ask her to marry me."
Laurel couldn't help but feel shocked at Finnick's confession. She was happy, gosh, she was so happy that Finnick had found someone with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life, but…
But the Quarter Quell was on its way. He didn't even know it yet. Victors were going into the arena, and it was possible that Finnick would be one of them. In fact, with his skill set and likelihood to support the rebellion, he was going into the arena. Just when he found happiness, in a few days he would once again be attacked by torment the second the announcement left Snow's blood-red lips. And Laurel was going to be a major reason behind it. It made her feel sick. Laurel felt panic swirl in her chest, but she did her best to keep a genuine smile on her face.
"That's wonderful!" Laurel finally exclaimed after a moment. Her voice was devoid of any indication that she was panicking on the inside. If there was one thing the Odairs knew how to do, it was how to wear a mask.
"I am so happy for you!" Laurel smiled, then turned around to throw her arms around her brother. Finnick returned the embrace.
"I really am so happy for you, Finn," Laurel whispered. She was glad Finnick could no longer see her face; her mask was beginning to crack. Hopefully, he would believe the emotions to joy, not despair.
"I am too," Finnick said.
Laurel could feel the joy and relief radiating off him. It did nothing to alieve the fear inside of Laurel. She looked around the room anxiously, trying to piece together what to do next. Finnick was blissfully unaware of the tear that managed to slip out.
It was always better when people were unaware.