Work Text:
The rain smelled wonderful. It always did.
When it rained Finnick felt a peace that he couldn’t quite describe.
He was standing on the sand, his feet cold as the icy water pushed the sea foam and salty water across the coastal scene up to his shins.
The wind sang behind him as it danced through the village shops and houses, over the trees and through the tall grasses. It was cold as well, biting at his fingers and ears and his nose.
His hair danced with the wind. Rain, ocean, salt… He made it a point to keep his hair free from anything that a stylist would have insisted on using in the capitol.
Here in the rain, on the coast, was where he felt most like himself.
He took another breath as a strong gust of wind carried a moan across the air as it jostled ships and boats in the harbor a far distance away.
He had left for a walk some time ago and didn’t bother to tell anyone where he was going or when he would be back.
He was nineteen now, practically an adult.
In any case as a victor it was understood by the rest that he was not like others his age.
In the games he had killed to stay alive. It seemed stupid to treat him like a child after his return.
He smoothed out the front of his sweater, the wool was soft but stiff.
Worry washed over him like the waves from the ocean.
He wondered when his life had become so complicated.
It hadn’t started out as a bad day.
The weather was dreary but it was fall and that was to be expected.
He had just needed some space. To go somewhere away from everything for a while and organize his thoughts.
Some days were worse than others and, if he were honest, this wasn’t really that bad. It was only…there were so many secrets.
When mags had called to see him he hadn’t expected to hear about a rebellion, especially not one as organized as this one seemed.
Secrets he had to keep.
They were years away still from any actual change but actively had people on the inside.
Secrets he’d have to keep for a while. Possibly his whole life.
People who worked for Snow.
Did he know them?
Another wave of worry.
What if he made a mistake when he identified his point of contact in the capitol? What if he accidentally spoke to the wrong person?
If Snow found out he played any part as a rebel… He had already lost so much just for simply existing. He knew what Snow was capable of, what he would do to Finnick without a second thought.
What he would do to the people he loved.
The wind blew stronger and the ocean waves started to get more intense.
He sighed and started to leave the beach. He’d have to go back eventually.
He had been unusually quiet after Mags and the others had asked him if he'd be willing to help.
He said he’d needed time to think and left it at that.
He could picture it now, some saying he had sided with Snow. That the games had changed him and that he preferred his time in the Capitol over his time in Four.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone had said that about him.
It had been so long, six years. Six years and he still didn’t know who he was.
He had to make a choice.
-
Plutarch watched quietly as Wiress scanned the room for bugs.
“She has a knack for these things. Can find even the most advanced tech.” Beetee had told him over their last meeting.
It didn’t change the fact that he’d rather have someone else doing the job; namely Beetee.
He needed someone he could trust implicitly.
But it would have to do.
He didn’t have much other choice. There weren’t many other options available at the moment in the Capitol and he needed to be sure that the room was secure.
Times had changed and though most information was left with gaps it was undeniable that a revolution was closer than it had ever been.
Plutarch wanted Snow gone. He craved a new government and hoped he would be there to help write some of the laws.
But a new world was still far away and it was undoubtedly going to come with sacrifice.
The resistance needed as many on their side as they could get.
The nightclub wasn’t as high end as some but it would pass a check if anyone looked into why he was here.
He hoped that his message had made it in time to District Four.
Wiress hummed a nervous kind of song as she finished the last bit of the room and turned back to Plutarch with a nod.
“We’re set then?” He asked.
She mumbled an affirmative and then laughed looking around the room once more.
She was smart, but ever since her games she wasn’t fully present.
He hated that this was the best he could come up with but they were pressed for time and if a mad woman was what he had to work with then so be it.
He’d done more with less before.
–
Finnick entered mags home again.
He wasn’t sure if anyone else from the group remained but it seemed they had all anticipated his retreat.
Mags sat at her kitchen table with a cup of tea.
“Look Finnick, we know it's a lot to ask.” Kip Gerby, a local fisherman well into his fifties, stated from where he stood, leaning slightly against the counter.
“But we wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Finnick sighed, still uncertain.
“Finnick.” Mags stated, gesturing for him to sit; he did. “Listen to what he has to say.”
If Finnick had been on the fence beforehand he was decidedly over it now. He had never been able to say no to Mags.
Something in the way she spoke made her seem almost too wise. Like she knew that everything would be alright if he just did what she said.
Finnick ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit, and noted that it was still slightly damp.
He looked at Kip again.
“Alright, talk.”
–
The club had been open for over an hour now.
Plutarch could hear the Capitol citizens laughing and talking as the music played.
The back room was considerably quieter.
Wiress had left as soon as her job was finished and Plutarch stayed behind to ensure the safety of the room stayed intact.
It had been hours but he used the time to reflect on their plan and also what he was going to say.
Footsteps came down the hall, the sound getting closer.
Plutarch stood and moved closer to the door, trying to hear the voices.
A muffled laugh followed by a thanks. There was a pause afterwards.
The doorknob turned and Plutarch felt himself relax considerably when he saw Finnick Odair walk into the room.
Finnick looked to be dressed for a night on the town, outfit and hair styled just so.
“I’ve always wondered.” Plutarch began. “Do they dress you every time you go out or do you get to pick your own outfits?”
Finnick looked at him, skeptical, but played along all the same.
“I think you know the answer.” He chuckled, eyes scanning the room.
“It’s safe.” Plutarch added, following Finnicks gaze. “I had someone check for bugs earlier.”
“They were thorough, I hope.” Finnick questioned.
Plutarch nodded. “One of the best. Though I can’t tell you her name… You understand.”
Finnick hummed in understanding and walked to the other side of the room.
“I can’t stay for long. I’ve got arrangements for the evening.” He said, pretending to be interested in the picture on the wall.
Plutarch knew, had known, almost from the beginning about Finnicks job in the Capitol.
“I’m sorry.” Plutarch said.
Finnick sighed and shrugged, nonchalantly. “Nothing you have to be sorry for. It is what it is.”
There was a long pause, and for a moment only the music and distant chatter could be heard from beyond the closed door.
“What if I told you that there was something that could be done.”
Finnick turned around so fast that Plutarch had to take a step back.
In his experience, victors were unpredictable and you could never be too careful.
“You didn’t come here tonight by chance. You agree with what we’re wanting to do.” Plutarch started.
Finnick held out a hand.
“I came here for a friend. I promised her I’d hear you out.”
Plutarch rolled his shoulders back. Of course he’d have to work to get his plan off the ground.
“I’ll get straight to the point Finnick. We need you.”
“You mean you want to use me.” The younger man remarked.
“You’re a crucial part of my plan. Nobody can get information like you can.”
Finnick paused.
“I don't like what’s happening any more than you do but what reassurance do I have here? What happens if I were to get found out.”
“We all have things at stake, this is a dangerous game.” Plutarch reasoned, taking a step forward.
“All of you Capitolites think the same way… It never was a game. Even when I was in that arena, those were real people, real kids I was killing.”
Plutarch nodded. One wrong move and he’d scare away his chance at key insider information.
“That’s true, and I apologize for seeming insensitive. Believe it or not there are more people who agree with you than you would think.” He paused and assessed the situation.
Finnick was still here. Whether he recognized it or not he was more invested than he said he was.
“That’s why I need you Finnick. You’re very important.”
Finnick seemed to bolster at the praise.
“What I am about to say, this information, it can’t get into the wrong hands.”
He had his attention now.
“District Thirteen is still alive.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Finnick scoffed. “That’s impossible. How would you know that? How could you possibly know that?”
Plutarch shook his head.
“Let me guess.” Finnick lamented. “Not something you can tell me.”
“It’s for your safety too. Keeping things separate keeps things organized.” Plutarch explained. “Not to mention it keeps information from getting into the wrong hands.”
Finnick nodded in understanding.
As much as he wanted to question Plutarch and find out just how reliable his informant had been it would put him in a dangerous possession of information.
He already knew too much as it was.
“What do you need me to do then? Get information? What kind?” He questioned, lifting a brow.
Plutarch smiled.
Finnick was in.
“Anything, anything you can that you think would help us.” He began. “You have the unique position of being in some pretty high profile places.”
Finnick paused in consideration.
“Like the president's mansion?”
Plutarch reflected, he supposed Finnick would visit more than the average victor.
He had been before himself, multiple times, to go over logistics with the president but security was high. It was dangerous to go looking for information when your every move was being watched.
“That would be one place, yes. But we wouldn’t want you to put yourself in an unnecessarily dangerous situation. Snow’s smart, I doubt you’d be alone long enough to find anything useful.”
Finnick grinned devilishly. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”
He went on to explain the time he had been kept in Snow's office while the President left to oversee a meeting.
“He left you unattended in his office?” He questioned in disbelief.
“I don’t think it will happen again.” Finnick stated. “And I’m sure there were cameras, but yes… He was trying to make a point.”
“Did he?” Plutarch asked, curious.
Finnick nodded meekly. “At the time, yeah he did.”
Plutarch left any other questions he had unspoken. This was clearly a topic the boy didn’t like talking about.
“This is good though. Snow clearly won’t suspect you. For the time being, get what you can. We’ll have the chance to meet again in the spring.” His eyes followed Finnicks as he looked at the clock. Their time was almost up.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He agreed.
He gave Finnick a few ideas of things that would be useful to keep an eye out for before the blond started to make his leave.
“Oh, I almost forgot to ask.” Plutarch said before Finnick could turn the door knob.
Finnick turned and looked on questioningly.
“The girl. Your victor that is… How bad is it?”
Finnick stilled at the mention of Annie.
It was a question Plutarch had wondered since the girl had won the games. Everyone said she went completely mad by the end of it all. There hadn’t been any doctor that had been able to fix her.
The game maker and committee had been wondering if she would be able to even be able to do the victory tour.
“She's…” Finnick paused, not meeting Plutarch's eye. “It’s difficult to say.”
There was definitely more to the story but that was about the answer that Plutarch was expecting.
“I’m sorry to hear.” Plutarch finished, placing a hand over his heart. “Maybe by doing this we can find a way to help her too.”
Finnick looked at the clock again.
“I have to go.” He stated, colder this time.
Plutarch didn’t argue and watched as the young man left.
They had a ways to go, but it felt like the resistance had something tangible to work with now.
-
Finnick laid in a large bed in the center of his client's room. His time was coming to an end for this visit.
For now though, he had a part to play.
He leaned over the young woman's body and brushed the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
“Hey.” He greeted, his voice soft.
She smiled up at him and he leaned down for a kiss.
“Hey.” She grinned back.
“I’m afraid it’s almost time for me to be going, as much as I’d love to stay.” He whispered, his lips kissing her once more.
“I understand.” She purred. “And I have your gift, as promised.”
She turned and he let her tell him about the tunnels from the old city that remained under some of the buildings.
“Back in the day the capitol didn’t have the money to fill them in. Can you imagine!” She stated scandalously.
He played along.
She finished her story of how her sisters and her had found them when they were still in school.
“I swear, you could travel just about anywhere.”
“Imagine that” He feigned surprise.
“Though Finnick, darling, I don’t know why you’d want something boring like this twaddle when you would look so dashing with one of my diamonds hanging from your neck.” Her fingers brushed against his chest.
“Next time.” He chuckled. “I promise I’ll let you positively drape me in diamonds.”
She laughed and swatted him playfully as he stood to collect his clothes.
Leaving the apartment, he thought about how this time felt different. Something in him had changed.
He finally had an idea of what he was. Who he could become.
He was an individual.
He had a purpose.
He was a rebel.