The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

With no secrets, anymore

Chapter Sixty Seven | With no secrets, anymore

"Listlessly she sat in the small, still deserted boudoir, looking out through the curtained doorway on the dancing couples beyond: looking at them, yet seeing nothing, hearing the music, yet conscious of naught save a feeling of expectancy, of anxious, weary waiting." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

Finnick's absence is a blessing and a disaster. Sil is both relieved that she is left alone and bereaved at the separation. On some days, she is grateful. On others, she mourns so deeply that her entire world shudders into darkness. The first month, she struggles with the two conflicting emotions. The second month she enters into a resigned silence that neither her parents nor Hale's efforts can alter.

Gemma and Aurelius take the lead in her healing. They make sure that she gets up in the morning and take her for short walks around the Cornelius grounds. Her father says that the fresh air is supposed to help, but honestly, Sil only complies because she knows how worried he is. As for Hale and the rest of the household staff, they pepper her with small gifts ranging from her favorite foods to the chocolate chip croissants she adores so much, hoping that it will entice her into eating more. She humors them, but the moment they turn their backs on her, she pushes the food away.

This isn't what she wants or needs, but the person who fills both those descriptions is far away and she is afraid to pick up the phone and call him.

The first month, Finnick had been adamant about calling her at least every other day. The new life he is forging for himself in District 4 sounds beautiful. He regales her with stories of his new job at the docks. He eagerly tells her about the new boat he's purchased, how he spends hours each day cleaning it up and repainting it. He tells her that, when she comes to visit him, he'll let her pick out a proper name for it and they can paint it in bold letters on the helm. It's a pretty picture, and she humors him too, but inside she reels from the happiness that exudes from his voice and the newfound freedom he has found, away from the Capitol's clutches.

She's so happy for him. Truly. She just wishes she could be a part of it.

Inside she knows that if she were to board the train that very hour and head off to District 4, he would open his arms to her and accept her into that pretty life. But...she isn't ready. She repeats that every day to herself, until after a while, it becomes something of a mantra to her. Deep in her heart she knows that she's just afraid.

Of what, she cannot say. Happiness? Love? It seems silly to be so fearful of such wonderful things, but such is the fickle temper of human nature. She is not exempt from its roiling grasp.

Sometimes Finnick asks her what she's been up to. She has little to say. Truthfully, she's been up to very little. Her days are spent resting. Sometimes she spends hours trying to push away tears that threaten to overcome her. Sometimes her father takes her out into the city and buys her little gifts, like he used to when she was a girl. Most days she just stares out the window of her bedroom, wishing that the piercing desert sun would swallow her up.

By the second month, Finnick's phone calls begin to lessen. He tells her that he's really busy working the docks. He has long hours, but he doesn't complain. He loves earning an actual paycheck. She smiles at this, but he doesn't see, because he's hundreds of miles away from her.

His calls gradually start coming at odd hours because of his work. She misses some of them because she's asleep, or meeting with her doctor, or in the city with her father. After a while, it starts to feel like he doesn't call at all, but she knows she's just being selfish. She's selfish about a lot of things. She's her own worst enemy.