The two weeks that followed were tedious. I woke up at dawn each day and spent most of it cleaning or cooking in the kitchens. Finch did his community service with me, though, so I at least had company. He had a habit of making the other cooks laugh and stealing slabs of bread and butter for us to eat on our break, which we took together outside. Elliott didn’t return, though I watched hopefully for him every day. I think Finch had a hunch that I’d been to see him the day he covered for me, but he never told anyone, and neither did I. I thought it would upset my parents to know he’d been so close by and yet unreachable.

 It slowly became normal having Finch around. I grew used to him sitting with me for meals, sharing anecdotes with my parents, and making rude jokes with Uncle Drew. The pair of them would snigger when Father asked what they were discussing. And somehow, Finch changed. He wasn’t the boy he’d been when I met him. He began to look more normal. Like one of us. And slowly, but surely, the blue in his hair was fading, revealing brown roots.

 But though he wasn't exactly a poor substitute for Elliott, it never felt quite right. I felt like I was the only one missing Elliott. Like everyone else was trying to move on, and I was stuck in the past. I couldn't get used to sharing a room with Finch, and for a long time, I didn't sleep more than several hours. Finch told me the night I returned from seeing Elliott to try and forget about it and sleep on it that night. I slept on it once, but still felt the pain. I figured I'd have to sleep on it a few more times, but it was easier said than done when my eyes so stubbornly remained open. Alert. The long days were torture, waves of sleepiness crashing against my head. It was bad, even with Finch there. Especially with Finch there.

 At the end of my community service, I was allowed to return to training. Coin, having confiscated all the items Finch and I bought in the Capitol, allowed us to have them back, including our chocolate figurines, the Mockingjay necklace Finch bought me and the t-shirt I bought for my mother. She took to wearing it whenever she saw Coin, to irritate her. Coin also returned the letter from Eli Thimbletooth. I frowned when I was handed it back. The letter had been opened and resealed. I raised an eyebrow.

 “Just a precaution,” Coin insisted.  She looked at me differently than she used to. Like she was afraid of me. Does she think just because I brought a Capitol boy here, I can overthrow her? Maybe I could have. I was strong. I could fight. I could be a leader, much as she could. After all, the Verona family is known for its fighting power. But power was never something I wanted. Just peace. I took the letter without another word, but Coin wasn’t finished. She gripped my arm hard.

 “Were you not so important, I’d have you cooking and cleaning for the rest of your time here,” she said “But I need you. With Elliott gone, you’re my best hope. I want you to become an instructor. You will train part-time, too, but I have new people I hope to recruit. You’ll see they’re properly taught how to fight.”

 “It would be my honour,” I said, a little bitterly. I suspect it was her way of keeping me out of the action.

 “Good. Then you start tomorrow.”

 I returned to my quarters for the night. Mother was already in bed, reading. Her white nightgown hung limply around her prominent shoulders. Her skin looked grey, and I had to remind myself that she was getting old. She looked older than she should, though. It was unsettling, but I mostly tried to ignore it. I perched carefully on the side of her bed and she smiled, wrinkles creasing her face.

 I brought you something I told her in signs. She raised an eyebrow expectantly. I produced the t-shirt from behind my back and showed it to her. She smiled, laughing without a sound. She held it up against her, her youthful face staring back at me from on the t-shirt. She looked so young. Well, obviously. She was only seventeen when the picture was taken.

 And something else, I said. I handed her the letter. Her eyes widened as she ripped open the envelope, not noticing that it had been resealed, but not questioning it. She didn’t seem to have the patience for trivial things like that. Besides, she knew who opened it. It was another thing she could add to her list of things to repay Coin for.

 I watched Mother’s eyes reading. She didn’t scan over it quickly; she took her time. Her lips moved as she read, soundlessly of course. But I could make out the occasional word. Gone. Love. Miss. And then, I watched in horror as my Mother’s face crumpled. I watched her lip quiver, until she covered it with her hand.

 “Mother…”

 She shook her head. Her bony knees lifted to her chest and she rested her chin on them, shaking. I’ve never seen her cry. Ever. She’s looked tired, beat, worn, but she never cries. The letter fell, discarded, to the floor. Part of me wanted to leave it where it was, but the Elliott part of me wanted to pick it up. I had to know what had made her cry. I knelt at Mother’s side, slipping the letter in my pocket.

 “Mother, I-”

 Not even looking up, she waved me away. I left without another word, shutting the door behind me quietly. Father was sat reading the paper, and he looked up in distress.

 “Karissa…I thought it was you crying…I thought your mother was handling it. What’s wrong with her? Should I go in?”

 “No, leave her.”

 “I think-”

 “I said leave her!” I shouted in frustration. I felt, for a moment, like my life was falling to pieces. I pushed past my Father and out the door. I ran for the stairs and scaled them, running up and up until my chest hurt and crushed my lungs. I collapsed on the stairs, gasping for breath. So this is it I thought My brother’s gone, my Mother’s a mess, I just shouted at my Father, President Coin has sliced my career as a soldier in half and I have stolen my mother’s personal property. Oh, and not to mention I’m housing a Capitol boy. What is wrong with me?

 I sniffed, wiping at my face and taking the letter out. This is so wrong. I shouldn’t read it I thought as I unfolded the paper. The paper was old. I suspect Eli wrote it a long time ago. I found my eyes scanning the words. Despite my moral objection, my nosiness got the better of me.

 Dearest Raven,

 I suspect that if you read this, we’ll have met again in person. If not, I hope it somehow reaches you safely in another way. It’s been a year now. Since Logan died, since you lost your tongue, since you ran away from District 10. I hope you are doing well. Valeria told me you were in District 13, but I burned the letter long ago. They did a check on me to see if I knew where you’d gone, but they never took me like they did Valeria. I wish, though, that I might have kept the letter. It was my last reminder of our time together.

 Except, there is one thing I have in my possession. A month or so back, I received a package from the Mayor. Logan’s father, should I say, because he is in fact no longer the Mayor. He stepped down after his son died. It hit him hard, as it hit us all. He hoped that I might be in contact with you and could pass on something you would hold most dear. It is a sketchbook of Logan’s. I have never opened it. I believe it to be private, but Mayor Golding wished for you to have it. If you are reading this, I can tell you that I have attached it with the letter and hope you will seek solace between its pages. He really did love you very much, Raven. I saw the way he looked at you. I wish that somehow you could both have been together, though I suspect you’ll have a new family now with Edward.

 I won’t attach a return address. It’s too dangerous for us to contact each other. But I hope you live a long and prosperous life, and continue to show faith, bravery and strong judgement in your decisions.

 Yours faithfully,

 Eli Thimbletooth

 I read the letter a few times, though guilt was rising up inside me. It was a personal letter, and I felt as though I’d read something I shouldn’t have. It confirmed suspicions that I’d had for years. That Mother once loved Logan. Maybe she still did. Her marriage to Father had always been an odd one. It seemed she lost herself in caring for Elliott and I, but they barely communicated. But Father would do anything for her. I folded up the letter again and put it in my pocket. Then something struck me. Where is the sketchbook?

 My heart thudded in my chest. Coin took it. She must have. When she opened the envelope. I tried to force myself to think of another explanation. Making an accusation like that against Coin wasn’t a good idea. Maybe Eli forgot to put it in? No, I thought. The central purpose of the letter was the sketchbook. He wouldn’t forget to put it in the envelope. There was only one explanation.

 Coin.

 Finch found me on the stairs a few hours later. He must have finished his kitchen shift. He knelt beside me, wiping a tear from my face.

 “Hey,” he said softly. I could see the roots of his hair again. I felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch it, feel the softness beneath my fingers.

 I didn’t.

 I told him everything. I felt as though he was coaxing my feelings out somehow. I told him things I wouldn’t tell anyone. The words rolled off my tongue and he listened intently. I told him how I missed Elliott. I told him that his presence felt like chipping Elliott away, out of my life. I told him that I felt he was replacing Elliott. I told him about the letter, the missing sketchbook, and shouting at my Father. I told him my suspicions about Coin, and how she’d given me a new job to keep me out of trouble. And somewhere along the line, he began to hold my hand. And I didn’t let go.

 “We can solve all of this,” he whispered to me “I promised I’d help you. With anything. I can’t bring Elliott back. He chose to go on his own accord, and we can’t deny him his will. But I can change the way I act. I wouldn’t want to impose on your family. I am not Elliott, and he always will be, even now he’s gone. I wouldn’t want you to think of me as your brother in any case,” he said. His finger traced lightly down my cheek and I felt my breath catch in my throat. He doesn’t want me to think of him as a brother…does he mean...? He was getting closer to me. I felt his hand rest on my thigh, but I was captivated by his azure eyes. My my. Is this how they do it in the Capitol?

 “If you wanted,” he said softly “I could leave.”

 My heart stopped “What?”

 “I mean, I could find somewhere else to stay here. I don’t want to-”

 “No,” I said quickly. Finch looked a little startled and I just shook my head “No, I…I want you to stay.”

 There was a short silence. Finch’s mouth began to stretch into a smile. And not the arrogant, cheeky smile I remembered from the day he sat at the table in the Capitol with me. A real smile, for a real boy, who didn’t seem like a plastic Capitol clone anymore “Really?” he said to me.

 “Yes! Yes, of course,” I whispered. I wanted to tell him things. I wanted to tell him how I felt about him. I’d done it so easily when I was talking about myself. But talking to him about him…it scared me. “I…You’re a good friend, Finch,” I settled for “And you’re all I have at the moment. I feel…like you understand.”

 “I try to understand. I want to understand,” he whispered. His face was so close to mine. I wanted to kiss him. I blinked, moving away. I’ve never felt that before. It was foreign, unfamiliar. And it frightened me. Finch leaned away a little, sensing my discomfort.

 “As for your Father,” he continued casually, as though the moment hadn’t happened “You say you’re sorry. He’s forgiving. He has to be, with Elliott as his son.”

 I smiled weakly “He does require patience.”

 Finch smiled “And you’re Mother. She needs time to heal. After all this time, waiting for news of her friends, her old life…it must have all come crashing down on her. She’ll be OK. And she’ll forgive you for taking the letter, if you’re honest. And she will be so happy when we return the sketchbook.

 I blinked “You…you said we? We should…we should go and find it?”

 I caught a brief glimpse of Finch’s cheeky smile again “Of course,” he said. He pulled me to my feet “We’re taking a detour on our way home tonight,” he said. He winked at me “Fancy a trip to Coin’s office?”

***

 He didn’t let go of my hand.

 As we walked, he listened to me talk about my family problems even more. I told him how worried I was that Mother would be angry.

 “I would never normally take anything of hers,” I said “I just…she secludes herself from us all, sometimes. And I’ve never seen her cry like she did before. At all. She’s very composed. But Logan must have meant so much to her. The stories I’ve heard of him…she always smiles when she talks about him. It makes me sad…because I don’t think she ever loved Father that much. So…I just had to take the letter, to see what made her cry. I want to help her. I just…I wish she’d let me in.”

 “It must be hard for her,” Finch said “Perhaps she feels that getting too close will get her hurt. She’s lost so many. Logan. Her friend, Valeria. Arrian and Pandora. Her other daughter and Elliott.”

 I blinked “You know about her? Eleanor?”

 Finch looked a little guilty “Your Father told me. And about Arrian and Pandora. I hope that’s OK?”

 I nodded, but it felt a little strange. I wondered what Father had told Finch about me.

 “So, what I’m saying is, maybe she finds it hard getting close. You said she’s been worse since Elliott left? Maybe she feels she put too much faith in you both sticking around. Maybe she felt like she couldn’t lose either of you. And now he’s gone. It must hurt.

 Hurt. A feeling our family knew too much of. We always have. Mother, especially, and Uncle Drew. I looked at Finch, and wondered what he knew of hurt. Trapped in his perfect bubble world. But increasingly, I hoped he might share his bubble world with me.

 We reached the office. It wasn’t guarded, because everyone knew Coin kept anything important with her at all times. It was a long shot, thinking the sketchbook might be in there, but I had to question how important it was to her. She probably only took it to upset Mother. As long as she’s not in the office, we should be safe I thought.

 The door opened for us without any issues. I closed it carefully behind us, and in no time, we were searching the room. We searched in obvious places first: in her desk drawers, on the shelves, in the cupboard. It was hard looking for it, especially as we didn’t know what it looked like. Then Finch said he had an idea.

 “What is it?” I asked. I watched in confusion as Finch crawled under the desk, fumbling around. His eyes lit up and he produced a small black sketchpad from under the desk.

 “How did…”

 “I saw it in a movie. They hid some documents on the underside of the table,” Finch explained excitedly.

 “Movie?”

 “It’s…it’s like television. Except with actors, and it has a story.”

 He handed the sketchpad to me and I hugged it to my chest. I didn’t notice that Finch was leaning towards me until his hand brushed my waist.

 “And…and in movies,” he stuttered quietly “This…this is the moment where we’d kiss.”

 “Kiss?” My heart beat a little faster.

 “Yeah,” Finch laughed nervously “I mean…they solved the case or whatever, and then they kissed.”

 I smiled, leaning back against the desk and resting my hands on his waist. My thumbs hooked around his belt loops. I’d never kissed anyone before, or touched anyone, barely. Not like this. This felt different. I liked it. I gently pulled him closer.

 “I guess we’d better kiss then,” I teased. Then my lips were on his and he was kissing me back. His arms wrapped around my back, pulling me closer. He smelt like cherries and summer and grass and I loved it. I finally found the courage to touch his beautiful hair, and I found myself wishing it would stay blue forever. I was falling for the boy with the blue hair.

 And then something ruined the moment.

 The door opened.