Sunday dawned cold enough to have Coral's teeth chattering violently by the time they settled on Finnick's small boat. Leading her down through Subdivision A, rambling nervously as he walked, he had explained how he had gotten the thing, It was tied up in complicated details about choosing his post Games skill and convincing them that he should be allowed to sail out into the bay to achieve it. His successful arguing had come with a series of stipulations, one of which was keeping the vessel itself hidden from the general public lest they try to take it. Not that anyone in their right mind would be stupid enough to try to breach the outer confines of Four without permits.

Boats left the bay for fishing by one singular exit, and the large charged electrical pillars hidden beneath the water were enough deterrent for most. Coral had seen the effects first-hand. Not all crewmen were legitimately there to work, a fact she'd learned early in life. They wanted to escape. Freedom. The price they paid for such wants was high., Electrocution, however, was only the beginning of the terrifying ordeal. For those trying to steal vessels, scrambling devices installed screwed up navigation systems and for those illegitimate sailors who dared to swim the distance – they had the mutts to deal with. Wretched creatures bastardised from sharks and controlled by tracking beacons embedded in their skin. Coral had never gotten a good look at the things but she suspected that was for the best. All in all, it was smarter to defect inland rather than chance the water.

After he'd shown her through the hidden tunnel and into a secret cove, Finnick had sailed between the exit barriers without any trouble whatsoever, silence lingering until he decided he had brought them far enough beyond the coastline. While Coral blew on her fingertips to warm them, Finnick turned the nose of the boat into the wind and dropped the mainsail enough that it wouldn't flap about too violently. Once he'd done that, he rooted through one of the small storage boxes on the deck to dig out a pair of fingerless gloves that were offered to her. Coral accepted them easily. It was fucking freezing out. Any extra layers were welcome.

It took three false starts before Coral's patience wore out and she finally snapped at the boy to start explaining. She'd had two days of driving herself mad. Two days of sympathetic looks from Mags that the woman was definitely not good at hiding. Two days of Finnick avoiding being stuck in the same room as her lest she attempt to wheedle the knowledge out of him. Even Tully had been weird the last couple mornings. More reserved. She'd tried to press him once and gotten a sharp answer in return. She hadn't tried again.

Finnick zipped his jacket up tighter, cheeks pinked from the breeze. Water sloshed against the side of the boat. Had the circumstances been different, Coral might have appreciated the neat little sails and the handprinted nautilus on the fabric. Instead, she was riveted to the spot, waiting impatiently for answers.

"I'm only working with what Mags has told me, but as far as we both know, this is the truth. So please just – listen – first." Scowling, Coral rolled her eyes. Rested her hip against the helm. Sitting would've only exacerbated the cold.

"That's what I'm fucking here to do you, idiot. Just get on with it." Her anxiety was making her feel nauseated. Knowing there'd been something terrible done by her father but not knowing what and then stewing in all the possibilities for days- it hadn't been pleasant. It hadn't made her pleasant.

The tale unfurled itself slowly. Some of it she'd known. Fishing restructures and a prime spot for Delmar Swan. The bugging system on the boats. Most of the tale reinforced things she'd already been privy to. Where her comprehension slipped was in the role her father had played.

"No." She'd said it once. Reminded Finnick that bugging of the boats was standard practice.

"Not until your father suggested it."

"No." It was spoken again, less forcefully and Coral's voice was almost pleading; She told Finnick that her father was a good man. That he'd looked after the people on his boats. Sure, he was a bit gruff sometimes but that wasn't an excuse to –

"He did it, Coral. All of it."

"No."

By the third time she'd interrupted Finnick to tell him he was wrong, the boy burst out.

"Coral, your father was an informant!" Finnick took her hands between his own, holding her tight enough that she couldn't escape him. Not that she'd have had far to go. "He used Ford to help him report on whoever was on his boats that were speaking of rebellions. It's impossible to bug everything effectively, you know this."

The deck beneath their feet rocked gently, a wicked contrast to the storm washing over her.

"No – you're lying. He loved Ford. He did."

"Of course he did. Why do you think he sold out his own employees? Good people do terrible things when confronted with a more terrible alternative. You know this. I know this."

Bloodshed. It flashed before her eyes, of fourteen-year-old Finnick in the arena driving a trident into the chest of a weeping girl. Of Ford at sixteen, screaming for his life. A life that his own sister had now outlived.

So far.

"Our people turned their backs on my brother because my father was a traitor?" She wanted Finnick to say it. Fully. The words from him would strike home. Find root. Somewhere over the last six months, Coral had learned to trust the boy before her. To see past his casual smiles and sun-kissed charm. There was no hint of humour in his gaze now, the green of his irises bouncing back the low-lying sun that coated the horizon line with yellow. The sky above them was devoid of clouds. If it hadn't been so cold, it might have been called perfect.

Tomorrow would be another beautiful day.

Tomorrow would be another terrible day.

"Our people turned on him because between them both, eighty per cent of the arrests, floggings and executions of the previous decade had been from their intel."

Eighty per cent.

Corals knees gave way and Finnick crouched down to the damp floor with her. The allure of the dingy had faded, its shining sails and unmarred paint only heightening the sense of injustice within her.

"It was meant to be an agreement that neither of you would end up in the arena. That you'd both be safe for life if your father kept providing information." The nasty part of her wanted to ask why he'd ever stopped. A terrible thing had already been done. At what point had his guilt come into effect? When did he suddenly decide that the sacrifices he had made were too much to continue with? Her mouth struggled around a better question, one which didn't make her more wretched than she already was.

"What happened – did he stop? Ford was what? A punishment?"

"I don't think so." Finnick shook his head, mouth a thin line. "I don't know. I just know that you both made the round that year, Ford's name was pulled and after that, your father's agreement was deemed null and void."

"That doesn't make any sense. None of this makes sense. It can't be true. You've got it wrong." Running her words in circles, she was stuck in a mantra. It didn't make sense. Her mother wasn't perfect, but she didn't support needless murders. Her father – he was flawed. Coral knew he was flawed but this – this – it was unforgivable.

"We don't. I told you Coral, this – it wasn't ever going to be easy to digest."

"How do you know?!" Coral shoved him away, praying for wings. For escape. Her chest felt too tight. Sore. It couldn't be true.

"Because Ford confessed to Mags before he went into the arena. He wanted someone to absolve him. To – to know…"

"He –," Her throat was clogged with every kind memory she had of her brother. Of the boy that hefted her to his shoulders during swimming hours, who had shared his last bites of chocolate with her. The bright and bubbly boy that could've drawn happiness from a stone. She felt Finnick snag her fingers again and realised there was moisture on them. Crying. She was crying. "Ford wouldn't – he couldn't have."

Sixteen. He'd been sixteen. People weren't murderers at sixteen. Except, that wasn't true.

You know it's not true Coral, a quiet voice reminded her. She blinked at Finnick before her and remembered him again with a trident in his hand. Blood dripping down his face as he pulled the prongs free and opened a vessel in the process. He'd been fourteen then. Fourteen. There'd been a girl a few years back. Twelve, and tiny, and she'd laughed during her victory interview. Laughed and laughed and laughed.

"What else did he tell her?"

The cold had fallen away. Fury and horror were flooding each artery and vein, sending them into painful anarchy. She felt like she'd been punched. Like she'd been caught in a propeller. Every muscle ached. Every nerve. Something about her face must've unnerved Finnick because he hesitated. Coral pressed.

"Tell me. Tell me what he said."

She had to know. Everything. All of it. It burned inside her, knowing that Finnick had known all this. That Mags had. That maybe everyone had known it except her. Her pride was smarting. She'd shared the same roof as these people and hardly noticed. What else had she missed? Finnick's jaw worked quietly a moment, opening. Closing. Opening again.

"He said it started as a game. Where could he plant the bugs? What snippets could he drop into conversation to steer it towards the things the Capitol wanted to know. He –" Finnick hesitated, eyes flitting to study Coral's face before he pressed on, "He liked it. He thought it was fun. Ford said the more he found out, the better he got rewarded."

A bike flashed in Coral's memory. New shoes. Present upon present. With each one Ford received, Coral had gotten something too. She was going to throw up. Blood money. They'd been living on blood money. The pedestal she'd placed her brother on was starting to crumble to pieces. It was suffocating her.

"He liked it." Finnick looked forlorn. He blatantly didn't want to be the bearer of this news. Coral didn't want him to be. Her vision was fuzzy around the edges, moisture and panic combining in the worst ways. Sniffling hard, Coral dug her nails into her thighs. As if it might steady her. As if it could stop the emotions eating her up inside. Another thought was rising in her mind and it only served to make her feel even worse.

"People think – they think I helped, don't they?" It would explain why her name was in the reaping year after year. Why, against all odds, she'd been called. Her mouth couldn't shape itself around the words. She'd never regretted keeping people at arm's length since Ford. It was a defensive mechanism. A means to not have to share her brother's memory with anyone else. Aveline – fuck - Aveline.

"Did she think I was complicit?" It took a long second for him to put the sequence of thoughts together and when the penny dropped, he moved so quick the boat shook.

"No, god no Coral she didn't think for a second you'd had anything to do with it. She knew better than that, it was why – why she volunteered for you." Her stomach finally bottomed out altogether and Coral dove sideways to throw up over the side. Bile stung her nose. It was too much. Too much. The full weight of Aveline's sacrifice finally hit her. Coral's lungs seemed too short on oxygen as if she were drowning. Her breathing turned ragged. She emptied her stomach again. Pressed her cheek against the cold metal railing.

Aveline had gone in because they'd have let Coral rot. Her own District didn't want her. Finnick didn't have to tell her that. She'd already watched it happen with Ford. If Coral had set foot in the arena, she'd have been bait. There'd have been no money donated. No friends waiting on the outside. No silver offerings to try and keep her alive. She'd have died. No amount of fighting spirit would've kept her alive in that place, not if she couldn't garner allies. Knowing what she did now, she was finding it hard to disagree. Coral had made her own life as difficult as possible by freezing nearly everyone out. She'd taken her father's crimes and made them her ammunition without even realising it.

"She saved me." It was rasped, low and desperate. "She was always saving me and it doesn't even matter, does it? Because they're going to throw me in there next year. They're going to kill me and let the people call it justice. The capitol wins no matter what."

"I won't let that happen, you hear me? I won't let you die."

Puzzle piece after puzzle piece slid into place. It completed a picture she didn't want to see. Her father's betrayal. Ford's game. Aveline's sacrifice. More people putting themselves on the line for her. She'd have been better off dead. Better off if she'd never been born. Even Finnick was trying to make promises again. Promises that ended turned him into more of a thing than a person.

"Why – why bother?" Coral didn't want an answer. She was certain Finnick didn't have them. Pushing off the side of the boat and wiping at her mouth with her sleeve, she pulled on the ropes to hoist the mainsail back up. To force them into movement.

"What're you doing?" Finnick voice squeaked. He was thrown to the side by the sudden swing of the boat when Coral kicked at the lock at the base of the helm which had held them in place. The anchor winched itself into place and the pair were jolted.

"I need to get back. I need to – I have to make him tell me."

"Coral," Finnick reached for her and missed, her movements too erratic to be slowed down, "Coral stop. You need to process. You need to take a minute."

"Don't tell me what to do. Take me home."

Finnick grabbed at the wheel, locking it into place again with his foot. "No."

"Finnick. Please."

"No. Coral take a fucking breather."

"If you don't move this boat right fucking now, I'll never forgive you."

"And if I do, Mags won't. She told me you needed to cool off out here. You need to be rational when you get back. Otherwise, you could end up in more danger."

"Than what? Our corrupt fucking government trying to kill me? They already succeeded with Ford. With Aveline. Finnick I swear I will kill you if you don't let me back."

He managed to corner her, locking her arms to her sides with his embrace. Kicking him off proved futile though she didn't stop struggling. Panic and shock had numbed out everything else. It was a buffer between her skin and the frigid air. Her fingertips had gone a myriad of colours from purple to orange from the chill and Finnick curled them underneath his own. No matter how she tried to wrestle free he didn't relinquish her. Didn't let go.

"I'll kill you."

"When the alternative is Mags Flanagan, I'll take my chances. She's the one out of the two of us that actually has a kill count." Tone glib, it was lost between her sobs. Her brother. Her big brother. Her father. He'd sold them out. They had sold people out. Together. A big fucking family celebration of how utterly evil people could be.

"I will kill you." Her voice lost its ferocity, legs giving out. Body tired, she felt like she'd spent seven days out at sea. Uneven. Sickly.

"No." Finnick tucked her head beneath his chin, rubbing warmth into her arms. Offering support. Comfort. She hated him for it and yet she couldn't let go. "I don't think you will."

Her words got lost between the crying that pulled her under then, her arms reaching over Finnick's to cover her head. Trapping him against herself. She wanted to lock out the world that felt too bright. Too warm. Too pretty. Too much.

"It hurts. Everything hurts Finnick."

Finnick fell quiet. Held her close. Sank down to the deck with her without letting her go. If she'd been more aware, she might have felt how he held her tighter again. How he wrapped his entire self around her. Instead, she could only weep.

"I know."

The door slammed harder than she'd intended it to, the rattle of the old air circulator signifying the cold had risen again in the late afternoon. Coral's skin felt warm from where the sun had stuck it once they'd moved inland, but the greatest part of it came from her quiet indignation. Finnick had held her on the boat until she'd stopped oscillating between fury and breakdowns until he could let her back to shore and know she wasn't about to do something reckless. A minute inside the house and it was uncomfortable in its heat. It threatened to smother her.

"Coral, where've you been all day?" Her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, flour on her palms and staining the edges of her dress. Another batch of bread was wafting down the hallway from the oven and Coral strode down the hallway towards her mother and spotted the collection of wrapped food in the middle of the table.

"Out. Is that for Mags?" Her mother nodded, a frown tugging her lips downward.

"What is it darling?" Coral brushed off the raised hand that sought her cheek and tear reddened eyes. That tried to claim and subdue the incoming gale. The concern in her mother's voice had snagged her father's attention from his seat beside the stove. The seat he rarely left when he was home, a bottle of counterfeit spirits hidden below the drapery of the small end table beside him. He looked upwards, heavy brows furrowed. She could see the alcohol in his tentative smile. In the burst blood vessels along his nose shining red and bright. She'd had a speech rehearsed in her head. A whole series of questions. Meeting her father's gaze all that she could get past her lips was -

"Eighty per cent."

The words were more solid than she felt, echoing through the room like a vacuum. It sucked up all the humanity and familiarity in a single fell swoop, her father's silence more notable than ever. There was the hum of the stove. Bird calls from outside. Finally, the sharp intake of Delmar Swan's breath as every trace of colour fled from his face. Coral had wanted him to look confused. Angry even.

She had wanted anything but the shame and burden that seemed to make her once giant father fold in on himself. Back teeth clenching together, it took her only a second to make a choice. Tearing from the room, it was easy to force her possessions into a single bag. The photograph of her and Ford as children, long before the memory of him had been tarnished. Her book of herbs. An old hairbrush that had survived the downgrading of their home. Some clothing.

Frantic whispering carried from the next room, her mother's voice rising in timbre as she queried what was happening over and over.

In the kitchen, Coral folded the items for Mags into another bag.

"Coral, what are you doing? Coral, please." Gillian Swan reached for her child, a grasping hand trying to hold the girl in place. "Coral tell us what we can do to make this right?"

"You can bring back my brother!" It tore out of her in a roar that left both her parents flinching. "You can undo all of the executions and arrests and pain that you heaped on this place for the sake of trying to get a leg up. We were happy. People liked us and you ruined it all for the chance of what? An ace in your deck that didn't even pay off! And then you lied to me. You both fed me the tale that it was the people here who killed Ford, who let him rot but it was you. You did it. I've spent the last four years hating people for being people when I should've been hating you!"

The vacuum returned, with it went all the air in the room. Sweat had begun to bead on her brow, the air circulator silent. Delmar stood shakily.

"You're right. Please Coral, just don't -" There was a slur to his words that sickened her to her gut. This was the man she'd defended all her life. A pathetic, cruel and foolish man. "-please don't punish your mother. Don't hurt her more."

"Did you know?" Coral whirled on her mother and Gillian's expression alarmed. "Did you know?"

The shake of her head was almost imperceptible, but it was the words that undid the last of Coral's faith in her parents.

"After. I learned after."

"And you stayed? You found out that he had effectively sold out our people, that he killed your son and you stayed? You chose him over the right thing." She jabbed her fingers towards the man she'd called her father, unable to look at him now. Unable to look at either of them. The kitchen felt too small. It had always been so, but before tonight the monsters had been easier to hide. To mask. Moisture, warm and betraying, trickled down her cheek.

"Coral, please -" She wasn't sure which of them said it now, the roaring in her ears too loud to process anything. Too loud to focus on.

"I'm leaving," Coral stated it plainly. As easy as asking her mother to pass the salt at the dinner table. She didn't know where she was going. What she'd do. There was still school. The reaping. Work. There were all those things and more to consider but they felt inconsequential compared to spending another second under the same roof as either of her parents. "I don't know you anymore. You've lied to me and hurt people. You hurt people, then you tried to convince me I was right to hate them for being angry? That their pain didn't matter -,

"What kind of monster does that?"

"Coral – please –"

"Can you, either of you, tell me a reason that wasn't wealth. That wasn't selfish? Can you?" She waited a moment to look between her parents, between Gillian and Delmar Swan and their palpable guilt. Neither of them spoke. Her moth- Gillian raised her apron and began to weep into the fabric.

"I'm sorry." Her father's voice was low. Barely audible. Coral swallowed thickly. "It seemed like the right thing, I didn't – we were never meant to be exposed. You were meant to be safe. "

"Sorry doesn't make Ford or the others any less dead does it?" Both of them flinched. Jaw tight, Coral asked the only thing that might have redeemed them. That might have made it – bearable.

"Did you ever regret it? Before you realised how phenomenally you'd fucked up, did you ever look back and think you'd done something wrong?" Gillian looked to Delmar in the same moment Coral did. The crumbling of her face betrayed the truth, Coral knew the answer. Partners in fucking crime. Delmar curled his lips around the word no; Before the sound echoed, she was moving.

She hardly recalled making it to the door with the bundles in her arms, let alone how she drowned out her mother's anguished sobs. On the front step stood Finnick, fingers curled into a fist. He took a quick glance at her. Registered the full extent of the scene. Stepping back, the boy inserted himself between Coral and her home and pulled the door closed.

"I doubled back after I docked the boat. I thought you might need a friend." His smile didn't reach his eyes. Coral recalled the feel of his hands holding hers as he'd broken the news. Calloused and warm.

"You're not my friend." It lacked her usual heat and Finnick took one of the bundles from her. Tossed it over his shoulder and then curled his arm around her waist. Guided her down the road, past the homes and light illuminated in windows.

"I'll wear you down eventually. Until then, I'll take fond acquaintance." He didn't comment on the tears. On the bulk of her worldly possessions taking up less space than the food Mags would eat for the next week. Instead, he threw out more words that made no sense. Words she wanted to choke him with. "Ooh, how about colleague. Ally. Dashing Prince."

"Do you ever shut up?"

He smiled soberly. "No."