Chapter 43: Walk the Line


It was suffocatingly grim in the quiet greenhouse; Sera ignored it, pulling out her chair and taking a seat. Plutarch looked up with cold eyes. Beetee with his awkward gait stopped pacing and sat down next to a silent Plutarch.

"Don't you all look happy tonight?" She remarked as she poured herself a cup of tea that she knew she wasn't even going to finish.

Plutarch loudly tapped his finger against the glass table as the lights around the greenhouse were turned off abruptly. "What did you do this time?" His cold words might've chilled anyone else to their bones with that terrifying heavy gaze of his but she was tired and not feeling the best so all she did was smile.

"What exactly did I do this time?" She echoed back, looking around at the tense faces of her allies. Neither seemed to react or move like they were life-like statues propped around the table.

"You know exactly what you did."

"I'm so confused. I admit I've done a lot of things that wouldn't be right but I have no idea what you're accusing me of so can someone please cut to the chase and spell out what exactly I did so we can get this meeting over and done with."

Sensing the growing tension in the room, Beetee stepped in between the two, trying to diffuse the conflict. "Seraphine," He called out carefully, throwing a look to Plutarch to calm down. "We—I understand that you tend to play both sides. It's not the worst thing in the world, I understand. I'd do it too if I was in your place but I think you might've gone too far."

Sera cocked her head to the side and glanced at the glowering Plutarch and then back at the calm Beetee. "I've had potentially one of the…wors–eventful nights in my life—not counting my experience in the arena so it'd be great if either of you make this easier for me and just spit it out."

"Fabius Harada." Plutarch drew out and tapped the table. "Why did you turn him into the Consular Tribune?"

Scarus did get it right, he was good and she hated that. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news but I wasn't the one who turned him in. If I had to be completely honest, President Snow didn't even suspect Consul Harada."

"Then how—"

"Scarus Redcliff." She said his name with a sigh as Zephyr made a sound while Beetee looked on in confusion. Beetee wasn't sociable. He didn't know half the people Sera and Plutarch ever talked about so it was a little surprising to her that he knew the soon-to-be-late or already-dead Consul.

"We have a problem," She began, pulling her chair closer to the two. Beetee sighed loudly and nodded. "I was careless." She could already hear what he wanted to say.

"I can tell," Plutarch commented and motioned her to carry on but not before he threw in another comment. "You were getting a little too overconfident lately so I'm not surprised you made a mistake."

Somehow he didn't seem angry, just tired. He meant well, she knew that but still, she couldn't help feeling a little bitter at his comments. She knew she was careless but did he have to rub it in?

"If it helps, I made the mistake before I joined but what I'm trying to say is that Scarus during his time as my guard wasn't just 'protecting' me."

"No, I'm sure he spent half of his time obsessing over you." Plutarch quipped with a slight smirk. "Though I don't think his obsession with you isn't the reason why Fabius might be on a death sentence."

"He's probably dead." Zephyr quietly commented as Beetee sighed. "I'm just saying."

"He most likely is." Emilia chimed in from the back. Her figure was shrouded in darkness yet her glimmering earrings could be seen from where Sera sat. "I noticed a new addition to the children at the orphanage."

"Paul Harada? I saw him on the list of children while I was going through the admin stuff." Zephyr guessed and Emilia confirmed his suspicion. "Yeah, Fabius is gone."

Plutarch threw his head back and covered his eyes while Beetee looked at Sera in silent desperation. No one said a word and silence fell.

She could only look on, not exactly sure what to do since she wasn't even aware of Consul Harada or whatever the rebels were plotting with him. She could only suspect that Plutarch or Beetee purposely kept her in the dark in fear of her turning him in.

"Well, this isn't on me. I didn't know but if I had a little information I could've gotten more out—could've made a small appeal to the President." She said, sipping her tea though the familiar stuffy feeling of guilt was once again burrowing in her heart. She did pity Consul Harada's young son; he was innocent.

"On what basis." Beetee seemed the most stressed out in the entire group and Sera didn't understand why. "President Snow wouldn't listen to you."

"If you two tell me the whole story, I might be able to add my thoughts to this and tell you how and why the President might have heard me out."

"You're upset," Plutarch stated, uncovering his eyes and looking straight at Sera. His under eyes seemed darker despite the light makeup, she could easily see that he was tired.

"I'm not upset."

"You sure?" Beetee asked, clasping his hands together. "It's understandable if you are upset. We were going to tell you to keep an eye on Consul Harada tonight." He carried on while she absentmindedly hummed under her breath. They didn't trust her or that's what she thought. "Fabius was technically supposed to help me."

"To do what exactly? You work under the Ministry of Technology and Science while he is or was the Head of the Consular Tribune." She said as she rested her head in her hand.

She knew Beetee had his own set of plans separate from hers and Plutarch's. Sometimes, Zephyr would let her know bits and sometimes, she'd try to remember what exactly Beetee was up to.

"The Consuls have some power over legislation." Plutarch reminded Sera who only nodded blankly. "I did tell you that, didn't I?"

"Yes but only on a local level—you were trying to change the law?" Beetee had her interest. She leaned forward, her silvery eyes focused on him and her lips turned up into a small grin. "You know changing the law would've caught President Snow's eyes. I would know."

"So we need to distract him," Plutarch stated and looked at the door. "I do have a plan and I was hoping for your collaboration—have you seen the tributes for this year's games?"

Her hands felt cold as she refused to meet his gaze. She had not seen a single tribute for the games so far that wasn't from her district. She only knew Faline and Celsi. That was only because she was a mentor that year. "I've been a little busy." She cupped the teacup in front of her and absorbed its warmth.

"Seraphine," Plutarch said her name like a disappointed teacher and she couldn't help but not meet his gaze. He sighed loudly. "I'm asking you to make some time and go over the tributes—we don't have much time. I understand you're busy but please make time. Clock's ticking."

"That's great but can we please come back to Fabius—what are we going to do now?" Beetee interrupted Sera and Plutarch's discussion. Panic seeped into his voice which sounded so foreign to both Plutarch and Sera that they had to look at each other to check.

"What exactly were you planning to do with him or have him do for you?"

"We were planning to pass legislation to allow the use of digital or smart lenses."

Sera turned her head to the side and snuck a glance at a now calm Plutarch. She had no idea what Beetee was talking about so she waited for him to elaborate.

Beetee took out a tablet and laid it on the table. He pressed a button and a hologram of a blueprint flickered into life. "I haven't chosen a name for the products but this was meant to be the final step of Project Iris. I approached the Head Consul to allow the use of smart lenses in the Capitol since the Consuls only manage Capitol level problems, I thought this was perfect since it was only for the Capitol."

He said Capitol three times, emphasizing it each time. She could only nod while turning to Zephyr, hoping he'd mirror her.

To her surprise, Zephyr looked the most interested she'd ever seen him in a while. His eyes had lit up and he had leaned forward with his hands clasped together in focus.

"What was the catch?" Zephyr questioned, squinting his eyes at the blueprint and studying it very carefully.

He grabbed a napkin and a pen from Emilia. He sketched out a rough drawing of the lenses along with some improvements before he threw it into the flames. He didn't need them anymore, those improvements were already in his memory.

"A backdoor, maybe to let us steal data or monitor Capitol citizens?" He guessed.

"The latter." Plutarch sipped his tea, wetting his parched throat before he carried on. "We had the idea of using the lenses as a means of surveillance. We know the Capitol has its surveillance—"

"So you two planned to turn its people into walking cameras?"

It was a smart idea, a genius one too. Capitolites were slaves to the trend, especially the wealthy ones. The poor ones, not so much, and the middle class was rapidly disappearing.

At first, she didn't know the difference but now she knew so it wasn't hard to tell that there was a hierarchy in the Capitol just like the districts. Unlike the districts or at least back home at Five where sometimes the lines between the people from Lux and the Hollow would be blurred like Faline's family, the Griswolds, the lines in the Capitol were clear cut.

But that wasn't her concern. Of course, new technology couldn't be afforded by everyone. Her concern was that it could easily be used against them.

How easy would it be for Beetee's invention to spread through Panem and be used by all without even knowing the true danger? She could already imagine how exactly it would be used against them. Even the idea itself was a dangerous one. She feared for her family, knowing how Nox had no thought in whatever that came out of his mouth.

She sat there listening to Beetee's ramblings and Zephyr's responses. She said nothing, debating in her head whether or not she should let them all know what she was thinking and maybe she was glad that Consul Harada never managed to pass such laws.

Making her decision, she shifted in her seat and sat straight, about to speak. The words were etched in her mind, ready to break loose like a flood, but suddenly, she felt the world come to a screeching halt.

The doors to the greenhouse began to rattle softly, causing everyone in the room to tense up. Their meeting was supposed to be just between their close-knit group; nobody should have known about it.

"Are we expecting anyone?" Eos quietly questioned, checking the time and eying the occupants in the room. Nobody seemed to answer at first.

Plutarch eyed the door and signaled to Fulvia. His assistant who had stayed silent so far got up. Cautiously, she went over to the door. She leaned her head against the door and waited.

The glass walls were blacked out with thick bulletproof cloth that covered the sight of the outside world. Nobody had any idea who was outside those doors. Fulvia glanced over her shoulder at Plutarch and the rest of the room.

A mixture of horror and surprise washed over Sera's face when Finnick, the last person she expected to see, walked in.

She'd avoided him for so long and she hoped he would be kept in the dark about her involvement with the rebellion. It wasn't exactly out of guilt but more of a necessity to her. She already kept her family in the dark and he wasn't any different from them.

She felt even worse as the events of earlier that night replayed in her mind like a vivid movie. Trying to block it all out, she shut her eyes. If she knew he would be here, she would've just given Zephyr or Emilia everything she knew and gone home.

Her half-empty teacup suddenly looked like the most interesting thing in the room as she shifted her focus away from the meeting. Pale pink liquid swirled in her cup as she focused on the swirls, not even noticing the eyes on her.

But she did notice him and the stupidly charming grin on his face that he momentarily replaced with a rare serious look that she seldom saw.

Finnick saw her. He was equally flustered spotting Sera but he didn't seem to care. He walked over and pulled up a seat next to hers.

"I'm sorry I'm late." He said nonchalantly as sat down next to Sera like it was the most natural thing in the world. She felt like she was the only one who felt awkward.

She tried her best to pretend she didn't even notice him next to her; if only she could make it seem like he simply did not exist."Do you mind moving your chair a little?" He quietly asked.

Her annoyance towards his presence intensified with every passing second but she didn't look up. "Maybe you should've sat somewhere else." She suggested quietly, only for his ears, and shifted closer to Eos. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be the one asking that," Finnick murmured under his breath as he covered his mouth and nodded at a few of the people around him in greeting. "Last I checked you were working for the President. Should I be worried about the tea and the cakes? I was kinda hungry too."

She made a quiet sound. "You shouldn't be here."

Finnick snorted, attracting some attention from both Plutarch and Beetee. He leaned his head towards her, nearly touching her head. "Oh, I'm sorry I forgot to RSVP for this meeting."

"Aren't you a comedian?"

"No, that's the first time I've been called that. Most people just focus…elsewhere."

Zephyr's chair scraped against the floor distracting Sera's train of thoughts, a welcome distraction. "Sorry, I don't like garden chairs." He said, leaning over Finnick to talk to Sera.

Not knowing if Zephyr was trying to ease the tension or worsen it, Sera only stared at him blankly. "I'll tell the gardener or the ones who manage this place." She said, trying to ignore Finnick's heavy and scrutinizing gaze.

She already knew what was going through his mind. Another round of questions and each of them was probably about how she lied to him once again. She knew she lied and she'd keep lying or avoiding him even if he didn't just so happen to be at that particular meeting.

Plutarch cleared his throat impatiently from across the table, gesturing for Sera to carry on with what she was about to say before they were interrupted.

"Picking up where we left off, Sera seemed to disagree with Project Iris." Plutarch said and eyed the watch on his wrist, glancing up to look at Sera. He ignored Finnick's presence, choosing to focus on Sera.

The former Head Gamemaker stared at her with a stern look and she sat up, away from Finnick, remembering what she wanted to say before he interrupted her train of thought.

"I think it's a terrible idea." She began, pushing aside her teacup and clasping her hands together to prevent her from wounding herself. "There are too many ways it could've gone wrong. There's a chance this technology could be used against us."

"Several fail-safes were meant to be implemented in case the project was greenlit." Beetee pointed out and gestured to the hologram which had changed. "I was thinking of adding a self-destruct if there are attempts to reverse engineer the lenses…" He trailed off, noticing Sera's confused look. "You don't understand what I'm saying."

"No, I'm just thinking that—"

"You don't understand what he's saying." Finnick chimed in with a slight grin on his face. "I mean it's okay, not everyone can understand everything."

Sera breathed out, her body stiffening in silent anger. "No, I do understand what he's saying, Finnick. Thank you for your input but I was about to say that there's still room for it to backfire."

"How so? I think Beetee's a genius and technology isn't your area of expertise—"

"I know people and speaking from recent experience, I know people can learn quickly and in turn use what you showed them against you."

"Is this experience relating to Scarus Redcliff?" Plutarch questioned and motioned to Fulvia to take notes. "So he learned something from you."

"What?" Finnick spoke without caution, pausing the meeting. He ignored the heavy and tired gaze of the people around the table to stare at Sera. "What's going on?"

"If you would kindly stop interrupting us every two seconds, we'd get somewhere." Beetee had enough of Finnick's interruptions; he picked up his tablet and reset it to the first picture on the hologram.

Zephyr sighed loudly. "Can we please get through this meeting quickly?" He almost begged as sleep threatened to weigh his eyelids down and shut them there and then. "I have some suggestions about Project Iris and I'd like to get through this fast so I can go back to the Training Center for some sleep before the training sessions tomorrow."

"Thank you." Plutarch calmly motioned the room into a quiet state before he turned back to Sera. "You said he learned from you—what exactly do you mean?"

Sera sipped the almost cold tea before she spoke again. "He mimicked me. He approached or let Paul Harada approach him. We all know children see things that most adults don't and they move virtually undetected since nobody takes them seriously. Typically President Snow makes sure that most of the patients I volunteer to help out are either the elderly or children. Scarus seemed to be aware of that."

With each word she spoke, her heart felt heavy and Finnick's overbearing presence didn't exactly help her at all. She felt his fingers brush against hers and she stiffened before quickly shifting towards Zephyr on her other side.

Finnick clenched his fists tightly at his sides, as though trying to hold onto something slipping away from him. "How can we even trust you?" He challenged in a hushed tone.

Fulvia slapped her hands over her face and quietly muttered something under her breath. She was ignored as everyone in the room stared at Sera. Zephyr stood up, ready to argue for Sera with Emilia mirroring him but they all stopped once Plutarch and Sera glanced over them.

Sera stiffened at his words, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. She crossed her arms defensively over her chest and shot Finnick a glare. "I don't need your trust. I know exactly where I stand."

"Are you on our side?" He doubled down, leaning towards her but she stood up.

"I don't need to tell you anything."

Despite the pleasant humid air and the scent of flowers, the grand greenhouse behind the orphanage felt stifling to Sera at that moment. Pain that she had forgotten started to creep up her arm once more as she struggled to breathe but she didn't show her discomfort.

He was right to suspect her. She wasn't exactly on the rebels' side nor was she on the President's side. Plutarch was the only one who knew that.

"No, but people's lives are at risk here so even if you don't want to tell me anything, you need to think about the bigger picture."

"I know."

"Do you?" He stood up, pushing his chair in, and turned to look at her. "Because I don't think you do."

The single light lit inside the greenhouse flickered, casting Sera and Finnick into the darkness while keeping the rest in the light. Even then, she could still see his sharp unmoving gaze on her.

"Finnick, I think you need to calm down." Beetee tried as he slumped down his head on his hands. The lack of sleep was getting to him and Sera momentarily broke contact to check on him.

"I'm just asking a question."

Plutarch held up his hands in an attempt to diffuse the tension between them. "Finnick," he said gently, "Sera isn't like you. It's up to me to see if she's on our side."

The words stung Finnick more than they should have, but he kept his tone measured and controlled. "All I'm saying is we should be cautious." He tried again.

Sera scoffed and turned away from them both, taking a few steps toward the rows of exotic plants that filled every corner of the greenhouse. She knew he was partly telling the truth. He was cautious but it was clear to her that he was letting his feelings affect the meeting and Plutarch knew it too.

"Look, I'll just quickly wrap up my end of things and go so Zephyr can offer his suggestions." She suggested, ignoring the conflict altogether. Though she didn't dare to approach the table once again.

Plutarch stared at her and glanced at Finnick accusingly before he bowed his head to let her continue.

"As I was saying, Scarus—he approached Paul to find some incriminating evidence against Consul Harada. Going by what Beetee and you said, Consul Harada didn't know anything about the rebellion."

"No, I only gave him some insight into the project," Beetee confirmed, throwing a nervous glance at the suddenly quiet Finnick. "I didn't try to recruit him either."

"It would've been too risky," Plutarch added. "He's the Head of the Tribune."

"Former head." Sera corrected and bit her lips, being very careful not to smudge her lipstick. "Consul Harada is no longer the Head of the Tribune. Consul Scarus Redcliff was 'elected' to take his place sometime recently—I can't tell you when since Scarus didn't tell me much and looking at you," She said, stopping at Plutarch. "It hasn't been announced yet to Elites."

Plutarch slammed his hand on the table in anger, taking everyone by surprise. His usually calm demeanor shattered as anger and frustration spilled out of him. His fists clenched, he could hardly believe the turn of events.

Scarus had managed to outwit them all and all he had to do was watch Sera.

"Of course. He's just like his godfather. How could this happen?" His voice cracked as he struggled to maintain any semblance of control.

Sera hesitated for a moment before revealing more. Her eyes accidentally flickered to a still Finnick who leaned against his tucked chair. "Scarus had set Consul Harada up for a false charge of rebellion, and the Tribune fell for it."

"They rushed the trial. It's clear they rushed it or President Snow would know about it."

"And he'd ask you to check on it," Emilia added, she didn't understand it either. "It's not unlikely but everyone on the Tribune agreeing with a newly elected Consul seems like a—"

Plutarch scoffed. "A new Consul with deep connections and pockets. His father is a Minister and a member of the Senate and young Scarus himself is a former Elite Guard. He must've used more underhanded methods to get the Consul on his side."

"Maybe we can use this." Finnick suddenly suggested, looking straight at Sera. "If President Snow doesn't know about the fast-tracked trial, you could let him know."

Doubt crept across Plutarch's face like smoke from a burning fire and he shook his head. Beetee looked up from his tablet, shaking his head. "This is a tricky situation. Scarus wouldn't have told her this unless he expected her to do exactly what Finnick is suggesting. It's a clear trap or test for Sera."

"Worst case scenario, Sera's the one on the execution block next." Zephyr added in, reminding everyone that he was still there.

Finnick's face paled. He stole a careful glance at her. Guilt gnawed at him and he ignored the feeling while scrutinizing her every gesture.

"Thank you for that, Zeph." Sera dryly said and Zephyr grinned. His words were just the shot of confidence she needed—she felt worse than before. "Should I carry on or are there more suggestions on what I shouldn't do?" Nobody spoke up. "Finnick?"

"None from me."

Sera hesitated before continuing. "There is one more thing you all need to know," she said cautiously. "The Elite Guards."

Plutarch sighed. "The Elite Guards?" He scoffed bitterly. "Those glorified Peacekeepers? They've almost been retired since the fall of Minister Thistlewood. They're nothing more than decorative guards at this point."

Sera raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest as she met Plutarch's gaze with steely determination. "You might want to rethink that." She warned him coldly. "Scarus let it spill that the Elite Guards have been relocated to the borders of the Capitol."

"The borders?" Emilia whispered hoarsely. "But why?"

A heavy silence swallowed the room as Plutarch grappled with the implications of Sera's revelation. If true, this information changed everything.

The Capitol was onto them.

"They're preparing." Beetee said, getting up from his seat as he turned off his tablet.

"Could be a trap." Plutarch mused, eerily calm. He sat up and looked at Sera in the opposite corner of the room.

"Maybe send some people to check it out," Sera suggested, walking back to her seat to grab her bag. She accidentally grabbed Finnick's hand in the dark. She was about to let go but he held on to her injured arm. Biting down a hiss of pain, she breathed out sharply and only hoped he didn't notice.

"I'll see to it and send some people down to check." Plutarch turned to Zephyr and motioned him to pick up where he wanted to but he didn't start on his suggestions.

"Wait. Are we just going to move past the fact that maybe the Capitol is potentially preparing for war?" Zephyr fixed him with a poised gaze.

Visibly annoyed, Plutarch shook his head. "No, we're not moving on. We're refocusing our attention elsewhere for the moment while we confirm Seraphine's information."

Sera turned over her wrist to check the time and sighed. She had to go. Throwing a look to Zephyr, she held up her arm and motioned to her wrist. She had to be in bed by a certain time or her medicine for the next morning wouldn't be taken on time. It didn't exactly help that she was exhausted.

"In that case, I'll leave you all to wrap this up. I have to go." She grabbed her bag and freed herself from Finnick's grip, walking out of the greenhouse without looking back.

Without looking back, she started her tread back to the main building of the orphanage. All the lights had been turned off and the guests had all left. Only the rustling of the wind and leaves along with the quiet clicks of her heels accompanied her journey back.

A sudden gust of cold air made her shiver and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. She almost stumbled on the cobbled path as she switched to the grassy floor. Not even a single star shone that night so she had to rely on her sense to guide her back to the building. She knew by now the Peacekeepers had also left, leaving her all alone in the garden.

She hugged herself tighter, fighting the chill, and cursed herself for not bringing a coat; she envied Scarus, Zephyr and Finnick at that moment in their suits. They didn't have to worry about the sudden night chill.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. It came without warning or sound. She stopped in her tracks as a sense of unease crept up her spine. Before she could turn around, she felt something gently drape over her shoulders.

She tensed up and reached for the object on her shoulder but she was stopped mid-motion. "Relax." Finnick's quiet voice softly rumbled against her ears. "It's just me." His touch startled her but his sudden tenderness more.

Finnick's expression remained unreadable as he silently observed her without another word. He started to match her pace and she scowled. What was he doing? She knew the two didn't see eye to eye and here he was following her when she wanted to be left alone.

"You can take your coat back." She reached for his coat again but he stopped her.

"Unless you want to be that idiot who catches a cold in summer, keep it."

She pursed her lips and looked away, too tired to say a word. The silence was deafening and it didn't help that he was going in the same direction she was.

Their fingers brushed against each other before his hand slipped into hers almost involuntarily. It felt like tiny electric currents were dancing in their intertwined fingers.

Sera let out a quiet gasp and tried to tug free but relented once she realized he wouldn't loosen his grip at all. All the hostility from the evening earlier had boiled away and left nothing behind. She didn't like it and found it almost unnerving. It didn't exactly help that she couldn't read him well in the silence of the dark.

"Finnick," She sighed and pulled his coat tighter around herself. "What are we doing?"

He hummed a response. "Nothing. I was just tired of arguing. I thought I'd try a softer approach."

"For what exactly? You're wasting my time."

He waited for a second before she called out her name. "Sera," His grip tightened ever so slightly. "How long have you been working for the rebellion?"

He didn't even wait around before he started to interrogate her and somehow she was glad he did because the awkward silence and his hand in hers were all very confusing; she was tired as well.

She didn't look at him, her silver eyes focused on their entwined hands. She bit her lip before answering hesitantly. "I don't have to tell you that."

"No you don't owe me a thing but I do deserve to know if I can at least be around you without fearing for my life."

He had a point. She sighed. "I'm not working for the rebellion." His grip loosened a little and she slipped out of his reach. "But I'm not working for the President either. It's…it's complicated. That's all you need to know."

"That's all?" He echoed. His cool gaze settled on her blank face. "How long? How long have you been doing this, since the 70th Games?"

"Maybe." She quickened her pace. "It doesn't matter."

"So yes."

"Not a yes or a no."

"You did poison those people then."

Again, he was stuck at that moment while she desperately tried to move on. Maybe it would be best to tell him what he wanted to hear and move on but the stubbornness in her refused.

The cool summer wind blew past them, her hair falling out of its cage and cascading down her back. She didn't bother to grab the pin that had fallen to the ground but Finnick did.

Without a word, he picked up her silver pin with a delicately sculpted silver dahlia with the stigmas being topaz. "Dahlia." He said out loud, stopping her.

She turned around and reached for the pin but he moved it out of her grasp. "Finnick."

"Stop avoiding my questions."

She sighed and turned away. She was getting tired of this dance and maybe it was time she ended it so she could focus on her tasks uninterrupted.

Against her stubborn nature, she decided to tell him the truth or what he wanted to hear. "If you really thought about what happened then you would know that it would've been difficult for me to do something like that." She began in a quiet voice, not daring to look him in the eye for fear her mask would crack and her true feelings would leak out.

"But not impossible." He saw her. He saw that look on her face. "The wine was poisoned."

"It wasn't." She said. "Do you think I had the power to do something like that?" She questioned. She wasn't completely innocent. She was the one who came up with the plan with Plutarch and Tamora, throwing the latter down the tracks when she had done her job.

Sera wasn't innocent. She knew that and she wasn't going to pretend she was.

From the corner of her eyes, she could feel the cold specters following her; Eugene and the dead Capitolites were all scattered around the garden.

Finnick shook his head in disbelief. "But you acted like—"

"Well, I'm not saying I'm completely blameless."

"The wine was poison and poison is like your—"

"My thing?" She finished for him. "For someone smart enough to fool the entire nation, you don't even realize that the truth was in front of you."

"What are you talking about?"

He wanted the truth. She'd give him the truth and leave, hoping that this time he'd stay out of her life. "The wine…" She said, turning around to face him. "Wasn't poisoned."

His brows scrunched up in confusion. "That doesn't make sense." He softly gasped and covered his mouth in disbelief, turning away from her. "If the wine wasn't poisoned then wh—"

He cut himself off and silence enveloped them before he threw the cover of quiet away with a sound of realization. "The glasses." He said, turning back to her. "The glasses were poisoned."

She didn't confirm or deny his suspicions and just stood there. "But that doesn't matter. You wanted to know who poisoned those people, blaming me for those deaths and traumatizing poor Annie, ignoring that she's one of the few victors spared from being used by the Capitol. I'm sure you'll understand that if I had enough power to do all of that I'd have enough influence to get away from Minister Thistlewood's hands."

"But you didn't."

"But I didn't." She echoed back. "Not because I didn't want to but because I couldn't. I just didn't have the power to protect myself back then or anyone. I didn't poison those people who if I'm being honest weren't innocents, not that you care or anything—I didn't know much about them apart from what little I heard of them."

Finnick felt his heart clench at the revelation. "Tamora did it." He realized, remembering the late former Consul's reaction to the poisonings. "You weren't involved."

"I was involved but I didn't poison them. I just came up with the plan so you weren't far off and Plutarch helped—he picked the location and event." She fought the urge to shut her eyes as her lids grew heavier. "In case you didn't know, he has a flare for the dramatic."

"So you just let me believe that it was all you."

"No," She let out a bitter laugh, taking steps towards him. "You believed what you wanted because of what you saw." She said, pointing at him. "I just let you."

"Did you think I wouldn't have figured it out that you were lying?" He murmured. Though he wanted to sound angry at her lies, there was a hint of sadness tinted in his voice.

There was no immediate answer from Sera at first; she drew in shaky breaths trying to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. "Does it matter?" She replied with a somber look on her face.

Frustrated, Finnick shook his head in disbelief. "Damn it!" He cried out, throwing his head back and running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Yes! It matters. I almost died! You almost died! How could you be so—ugh!"

Sera covered her ears and shut her eyes. His voice rang in her ears, she felt sick all of a sudden. "Can you please not shout? I'm tired and I'm sure Cashmere is still around." Her voice was hoarser than usual and she hated that but she was too tired to care.

Finnick frowned. What was Cashmere still doing here? He must've been wondering that because he tried to ask her about Cashmere. "Why is—"

"You don't need to know." Sera cut him off and clutched his coat around her tight, thinking about taking it off. "Look I told you the truth so you can stop…this. We're done. There's nothing anymore." She decided to take his coat off even though she was still so cold. She'd brave the cold if it meant he'd be free of her.

He didn't seem to understand what she was trying to do as he placed her hairpin into her hands after taking his coat. She was about to turn away and leave but he stopped her once again by draping his coat around her for the second time. This time, he made sure it was more secure for her.

He leaned over her and in a soft almost tender voice that felt so foreign yet so familiar, he said. "You can't just say that and expect me to be okay with it."

"Well, I don't care what you're okay with." She spat out, so tired out of her mind. She was fighting sleep as she stood there.

"You're lying."

"Yes and?" She ended up blurting out in frustration and bit her tongue. "You know I have a long day tomorrow so I need to go."

"Okay." He said after a second of thinking. "I'll take you back."

"I don't need—" She stumbled on her heels and nearly face-planted to the ground when he caught her. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she hung her head low in shame.

Nothing was going her way that night and maybe she should've fallen head-first straight into the corner where the grass met the stone path. Her head would've cracked open and she'd be dead enough to not deal with the situation altogether.

He chuckled lowly. She could picture his smug face and wanted to do nothing but run; if only she wasn't so exhausted that she could walk properly. "So what was that you were saying?"

"Shut up." She hissed. Her movements were slow and almost mechanical while her face was pale with sweat gathering at her brows. She was struggling to keep her eyes open and her right arm was cradled close to her body like it was injured.

"I'll take you back to Cashmere." She nodded tiredly, unconsciously leaning her head against his shoulder. He snaked his arm around her waist pulling her closer. "I hope you're not falling asleep. I'm not dragging you back to the Victoria apartments or the training center." He added with a small smile of victory on his face. He won his first round, she was bitter about it. "Though, I'm not worried about taking you there more so on whether there are Peacekeepers or the media camped out outside."

"You talk too much." She mumbled and he nodded.

"And you're the most selfishly selfless person I know." He retorted softly. "But somehow I just can't leave you alone."

Her eyes stayed closed. She pretended she didn't hear him. He knew she was awake and listening as he felt her cheeks heat up while she leaned against him. Neither wanted to say a word, both were too stubborn for their good. Though she knew he'd gladly take the first step if she let him to.