The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

But it does

Chapter Forty Eight | But it does

"Ah! There was a man she might have loved, had he come her way. Everything in him appealed to her romantic imagination; his personality, his strength, his bravery, the loyalty of those who served under him in that same noble cause, and above all, that anonymity which crowned him, as if with a halo of romantic glory." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

Outside the room, the old abandoned stairwell is deathly silent. The dawn has spun into the dilapidated building like spirals of spider silk, casting a lovely glow to an otherwise ruined place. The former occupants are long gone and probably have been since the initial evacuation warning before the air raid. It is like a ghost town all contained in a single space, and it is made all the eerier from the way Finnick retains the silence.

He holds onto it fiercely, even as he hears Sil approach him from behind. So many words beat through him, trying to gain a voice, but he pushes them down. He wants to tell her how worried he's been, how helpless he's felt, how surprised he was when he learned of her true identity. He wants to tell her that he doesn't care – about her lies, her tricks, any of it. But the truth is that he does. When it comes to her, he's always cared a little too much. And seeing her now, in this unexpected twist of events, brings it all crashing to the surface.

Sil doesn't want to be the one to break the silence, but she also doesn't want it to linger. She pauses for a moment, battling between her two desires, but ultimately speaks up. Her voice is breathless and has lost some of its strength when she slowly asks, "...You got my letter?"

She had penned that letter not knowing if she would ever see him again. She had written things on that page that she would have never said otherwise; hinted at emotions she has long skirted away from. She regrets some of those words now, but only because facing him again has never really factored into her plans. She'd known it was always a possibility, of course, but she hadn't been able to think that far ahead at that point.

Well, she'd been able to think a little bit ahead, which Finnick immediately points out when he laughs humorlessly and says, "And the divorce papers."

She stills as her breath gets caught in her throat. He sounds dry and sarcastic, as if he thinks her actions silly and needless. Perhaps they were, but...

He can laugh at her all he wants – she still stands behind what she did. She had never wanted to drag him into her life, and to be officially wedded to each other goes against everything.

Sil looks down at her feet and clears her throat awkwardly. "...And did you sign them?" she wonders haltingly, her voice hesitant and unsure.

She can picture it in her head so clearly – that, the moment he'd seen them, Finnick had signed his name immediately, only too happy to be rid of her. Neither of them had wanted marriage. It only makes sense, and she wouldn't be overly upset. But she would like to know.

From the corner of her eye, she sees Finnick turn to face her. She doesn't look at him. She can't.

He asks, "Did you want me to?" The question is sharp and pointed, like the edges of a star that has lost its glamor.

She raises her head and stares at him, caught off guard. Had she wanted him to sign the papers? No. She wants to believe that being her husband isn't so terribly bad. Being his wife isn't so bad either. But does she want him to be stuck in a marriage that is little more than a contract? She will not keep him unless he wants to be kept.

He's staring at her hard, as if he's trying to decipher the entire universe that lingers between them. Her breath gets caught again, and when she responds, it's just as breathless as before.