The Cockroach

by abnormalhuman

Summary:

Ever since the 74th Hunger Games, Johanna Mason’s entire existence has been a compared metric to Katniss Everdeen.

Katniss is the Mockingjay; Johanna is disposable.
One became a symbol. The other abandoned, captured, and tortured.

Through it all, Johanna remains a cockroach – impossible to kill despite the many times she should’ve died, resilient, an annoying pest to most, and dirty. But that’s the thing people forget about cockroaches, that being impossible to kill means you’re still alive afterward.

And surviving is only the beginning.

Chapter 1: Part 1: The Prisoner

Summary:

Johanna's first few weeks as a prisoner of war.

TW: mentions, descriptions of torture, execution, and suicidal ideation

People always underestimate the power of spite.

Spite is the emotion that has kept Johanna Mason alive since everyone she loved was picked off one-by-one. Her spite and vitriol for President Snow has given her more lifeblood than anything else since.

Johanna spent years waking, living, breathing, and existing just for the hope to watch the Capitol burn to the ground.

The rebellion gave her spite fuel. It’s the way she was able to keep existing with all her loss. It is what made Johanna bite down and swallow all her unfair indignation about everything revolving around Katniss Everdeen.

Sure, she’s just some seventeen-year-old girl put through similar horror as Johanna by the Capitol.

But Katniss represented exceptions for every single cruelty Johanna was handed.

When Johanna showed mercy in the arena by removing a Career’s sword from her district partner’s body to speed up his suffering, the story was distorted and manipulated by Gamemakers to make Johanna look like a blood thirsty victor who killed someone from her own district.

Whereas Katniss just had to pull out those dumb berries and they just let her keep Peeta alive.

When Johanna woke up from her games, her breasts had been altered without her consent. Her mentor, Archer Thomas, and the other District 7 Victors tried to stop it and were all beaten to a bloody pulp for it. 

When Katniss won her games, they tried to do the same but stopped when Haymitch pitched a fit.

When Johanna acted out, her mom was killed.

When Katniss acted out, she was revered for it.

When Johanna was forced into prostitution, if she didn’t do it perfectly her loved ones were still killed.

Katniss never even was forced into sex slavery.

When it was announced that the Quell was going to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors, the rebels immediately jumped to Katniss’s aid.

The plan was always to bust the Mockingjay out of the arena.

And despite all of Johanna’s disdain, she agreed to lay down her life in that arena for both District 12 tributes. She agreed to be the disposable pawn the rebellion needed her to be.

Hell, she spent months reading anatomy textbooks and practiced for hundreds of hours on how to properly remove the tracker in her arm – which turned out to be futile in the end since Johanna had to remove the tracker under duress with Brutus and Enobaria, the tributes from District 2, closing in on them.

And when the plan worked and the arena was blown out, the rebels saved their first priority.

Katniss fucking Everdeen.

They couldn’t even be bothered to come back for her other half. Leaving Peeta behind to be tortured by the Capitol.

She is certain that the rebels coming back for Johanna was never even in the realm of possibility.

Much like everything in her life, Johanna only had herself to depend on. It is why she had originally planned on cutting her own tracker out to be rescued.

But when that arena blew out, she was too far away to make it to the lightning tree in time and cut out her own tracker.

They’ve shown her the clips of the arena blowing up while interrogating her.

The forcefield exploding incapacitated all the remaining tributes. It’s how she now knows that despite Johanna and Peeta being much further from the lightning tree than the rest, both were knocked unconscious.

And at that point her only chance of rescue when things went that awry would’ve been if Finnick could’ve come to rescue her.

But he couldn’t.

Or he just didn’t.

She doesn’t know, she knows they’ve purposefully not shown her the clips of him specifically during the escape to probably mess with her head.

All Johanna knows is that minute and a half where she was unconscious is what secured her ticket to her current hell.

If she wasn’t knocked out for that long, she would’ve had time to save both herself and Peeta from punishment.

Death would’ve been so much better than this.

But neither were that lucky.

In fact, if you asked Johanna, she would say that Peeta Mellark and herself are the unluckiest sons of bitches in Panem.

Both are being tortured continuously for weeks on end as a punishment for Katniss’s transgressions.

Okay, she’s not an idiot.

She knows none of this is actually Katniss’s fault. Rather it is the fault of the government and rebellion that treats them all as pawns. But she can be jealous and angry that she is so inconsequential that she has been left behind to rot in a dank cell.

In the last several weeks of hell there has only been one person that hasn’t made her feel abandoned and forgotten.

(Although, it is very hard to keep track of time here. Johanna has resolved to scrape a tally on the wall with her bloody thumbnail every time she wakes up. Seeing as there are no windows and music is always blaring at random hours, it is not an accurate system).

It is no surprise that person is Peeta.

Being torture neighbors can really do that to you.

Bonds a friendship real quick.

Before this, Johanna knew how kind of a person Peeta is. The entire damn country knows. But she definitely didn’t expect Peeta to immediately stick his neck out for her in this place. Especially since it was only hours after she tried to goad him into killing her by saying awful things so she could avoid capture.

And Peeta doesn’t even know, but that specific incident where he stuck his neck out for her was pertaining to Johanna’s biggest fear about capture– sexual violence.

Johanna had been on the receiving end of the Capitol’s depravity enough for one lifetime in those months she tried to comply with President Snow’s forced prostitution. It broke her until she couldn’t do it anymore.

She lost everyone because of it. And all Johanna had left was control over her own body.

She knew how commonplace groping or worse would likely occur in captivity; it was about eighty percent of what fueled Johanna’s panicked attempts at suicide in the arena when she realized she wasn’t going to be rescued.

And once she was captured, she had the resolve that if anything like that happened, she would be like a rat stuck in a glue trap. Even if they put her in a straightjacket, cuffed all her limbs, and put her in a padded room – she would find a way to fucking take herself out before any of that misery could happen again. By literally any means possible.

She just couldn’t endure that again.

And it was within hours of her capture from the arena that handsy guards didn’t waste any time. Both Johanna and Peeta were naked, shackled, decontaminated, and dehumanized.

And once one of the guards’ sexual harassment didn’t get a reaction from her – she refused to interact – he took it a step further.  

The slimy guard was only able to grope her chest for a couple seconds before Johanna managed to snap several of the perv’s meaty fingers backwards. If she wasn’t cuffed, she would’ve ripped his fingers off.

In response, Johanna was slapped so hard she was knocked to the ground, and when the man made her stand and was about to try something again, Peeta intervened.

He was a force of power in the claustrophobic elevator– headbutting a guard to get out of his grasp and plowing into the creep to punch him in the chin.

Peeta immediately paid for his intervention, being punched in the gut so hard he instantly spewed vomit across the glass elevator walls.

He owed her nothing at that point. And he even continued when the guards tried lying to his superiors as to why both victors were battered and not captured ‘camera ready’ as instructed. Johanna still wouldn’t have even talked, but Peeta kept defending her and called out the guard’s groping only to receive another blow to his side with the butt of a gun.

It turns out Peeta announcing that to the guard’s superior officer revealed to Johanna the singular perk to being the sole captured tribute that was in on the rebel plot.

She’s a high priority prisoner and they desperately need her – for information and to punish for the plot.

And that gave her a mark that made her ‘code black’ to the guards. She has learned in her time here that it basically means it is the only prisoners guards face actual repercussions for if they molest, grope, or rape.

Who knew it could be such a relief that any and all touch she has received has been violent slaps, punches, and kicks?

It’s not like the Capitol is doing it for her best interest.

It would just be an inefficient and wasteful way to torture her.

The president is not a wasteful man.

Snow has made her torture effective, symbolic, and as painful as possible.

But she has a steel resolve, and a large part of that foundation since her arrival here was that feeling of solidarity with Peeta through the wall.

Some weird codependency formed between them that first night. Maybe even before the elevator when Peeta’s desperate grip on Johanna ensured the pair went down in a combined heap when the stun gun was shot into Peeta’s back.    

From capture, Peeta looked to Johanna as the only semi-trusted adult figure for him. He had no clue any of this would happen and he was captured to be tortured for information he didn’t have.

She was the only familiar and safe thing for him.

In their first few days there, Peeta’s only form of torture was being starved and forced to listen to Johanna being beaten to a bloody pulp, have her head shaved, be waterboarded and electrocuted for information.

But when her torturers would leave her in her cell – Johanna laid there, freezing, damp, and uncontrollably twitching.

The only things that kept her sane were the tips she already knew for post-electrocution and Peeta talking to her through that wall.

They thought they could break her.

And maybe they could have if they hadn’t already royally broken her years ago.

She had only become the indestructible spiteful husk that they designed her to be.

It’s not even that she had self-preservation, she honestly wanted to die more than anything. But she knew as soon as she told them anything they would kill her.

Johanna refused to speak at all in the first few days they tortured her. Anyone who has known Johanna in her short twenty-one years would know that’s a nearly impossible feat for herself.

She would only grunt to Peeta when he called desperately to her through their wall asking for proof of life after hearing her torturers leave the cell.

She spoke aloud to her torturers for the first time after they electrocuted her so severely it made her lose control and piss all over herself. If she had any food in her stomach, it probably would’ve made her shit herself too. And the only words she said then were, “Fuck you!” and other explicative from the severe pain.

Johanna spent hours shaking, having little control over her limbs while lying in paralysis, and trying to stay sane afterwards.

Thanks, a fucking lot for that one, Volts. They’re only doing this because of the stupid trap. If I ever get out of here, he better hope I don’t garrote him with his stupid fucking precious wire.

Peeta would talk to her through the walls about nothing, and it kept her from fully succumbing to the pain and just losing it.

---

She didn’t see Peeta again until both were dragged out of their cells to be done up, dressed up, and placed in front of cameras.

Johanna was as awful at complying as one could imagine, and it takes most attention off of Peeta. She scowled in every picture they made her pose with beside President Snow. He was so close that day and her fingers itched to reach out to rip his throat out.

That night for her failures to comply with being a good prop, they beat her senseless. Bruising her only in places that will be covered up by garish outfits.

The next morning, they forced her and Peeta to film pro-Capitol propaganda with the President. They were stricter than the day before, lashing a whip across the back of Johanna’s calves when she risked a glance to look over at Peeta who stood only a few feet away.

At that point they’d only fed her garbage scraps, and she was so tired. She knew there was no way out of filming this and she would have to spew pro-Capitol bullshit. So, she gritted her teeth and tried.

They kept punishing her since she was a shit actor.

And then they started punishing Peeta for her shortcomings.

After his kindness of talking nonsense to her while she twitched in agony most nights, she felt some need to be protective of him too.

Johanna steeled herself and forced herself to do a perfect take for the propo tape. While in the middle of one of her lines, she remembered a subtle form of dissent that was prominent in District 7 leading up to the Dark Days and had resurged in the months leading up to the Quarter Quell.

To dissent, people would stick their hand in their pocket in the presence of Peacekeepers.

During the Dark Days, it took years for the Capitol to figure out it was a way the citizens of District 7 were outright mocking them. It resulted in Peacekeepers killing people on sight for having a hand in their pocket.

It is a fact that was omitted from their history but trickled down through the words of ancestors.

Johanna only learned about the gesture because of her sister, Katherine. She was so smart, too damn smart. And she always was hungry for knowledge, which is how she managed to pull out the tale from their grandmother.

She remembered how on her second reaping day, Johanna wanted to shove her hand in her pocket, but didn’t want to draw attention to the gesture thousands were doing in the crowd with the Capitol none the wiser.

But she could do it when the Capitol was forcing bullshit out of her mouth.

Thinking of Katherine is what gave her the courage to do it. She could practically see the imagery of her sister’s brain splattering out of her skull and against a train car as she seamlessly slid her hand into the pocket on the ridiculous white jumpsuit she was put into.

Johanna managed a perfect take for their stupid propo, and she felt smug and defiant while saying, “To the people of my home, please lay down your arms. For the good of District 7.”

All she could hope was that her home district knew her well enough to know she had no choice in her words and to notice her signal of dissent.

---

And then her days became occupied with agony, patches of loss in her memory, the dank cold yanking at the tethers of her sanity.

There has only been one reprieve from her pain and the source of that is probably one of her worst moments in this prison so far.

Once beatings and electrocution were unable to pull anything out of Johanna besides curses, the Capitol went for the psychological torture by giving Johanna her own version of the jabberjay section of the arena, but so much worse.

They strapped her to a chair, injected her with paralytic shit that kept her from being able to shut her eyes or move, and then she was forced to watch the recording of Daisy’s torture and execution.

It was hands down one of the most gutting and painful experiences that actually drove her to a suicide attempt.

Despite the paralytic that froze her body and glued her eyes open, Johanna spent the entire time trying to bite her own tongue off to put herself out of her misery. She managed to do significant damage after hours of using her upper teeth as an awful saw, but once blood started pouring from her mouth and down her chin, they finally noticed the attempt and stopped her.

The next time her torturers came into her cell, they barely began trying to torture her before Johanna basically relayed to them that her tongue was so sliced up and swollen that she was unable to talk. Even if she wanted to blab, she couldn’t.

Johanna hoped it would mean a few days of respite from torture until it healed itself. But that would’ve been wasteful.

She was taken to surgery shortly after that so they could repair the damage on her tongue. And those moments where anesthesia made her forget she existed were the best moments since she was captured. When she finally woke, the pain medication from the surgery managed to dull down her pulsing injuries for a few hours.

And within the next day, they resumed her torture. But they never pulled out that Daisy tape again.

---

As her torture became worse, Peeta slowly lost it. His comfort talking through the wall evolves and mutates into something beyond repair.

She tries, she really does.

Johanna tries her best to talk to him after once they start doing whatever they’re doing to him. But she’s often in so much pain, still trembling from her torture, or so far out of it that she struggles to say much to get his attention.

On a lucky day, Peeta may mutter some half-nonsense back at her. More often than not her only responses through the wall are silence or sounds of a warped madman.

A madman who has a very limited vocabulary by the sounds of it. Johanna starts a game when she is mentally aware enough that involves her predicting how often Peeta will scream out the word ‘mutt’ or ‘Katniss.’

She always guesses so far under.

---

It is a day. So many days later, but she can’t be sure how long.

Johanna can’t keep track of anything. She’s constantly trembling and on the brink of dying of thirst. The water in her torture makes it impossible to even drink. Especially since most days the only form of water she could feasibly drink from would be from the tank of the toilet.

Her captors wake her by spraying a power hose over her body.

She jolts up, automatically. The cuffs on her wrist are raw and yank painfully.

Every moment awake is agony.

Every moment asleep is nightmares.

All she ever hears are Peeta’s screams and the loud music they blast to keep them from sleeping.

Today they shove in a battered figure with a bag over their head. As they rip the bag off with embellishment, Johanna just looks at them dumbly.

Who the fuck is that?

It looks like a husk of a man who is near tortured to death. The man is of an indiscernible age, missing numerous digits and teeth, emaciated, and battered.

“What? Giving me a new roommate?” She snarls sarcastically.

As usual, they respond to her sarcasm by spraying her with the hose again. Until she is sputtering and certain she is about to drown with the spray coating down her throat.

When they finally let up, she is wheezing and on the brink of passing out. They did that for longer than they usually do. Maybe she is getting closer to goading them into killing her.

Death would be so nice right now.

“Ashford, say hi,” one of the guard’s snarls and kicks at the skeletal man’s thigh.

Johanna gives them little reaction. She has nothing left in her to care to be shocked.

If she’s being honest, she thought he would’ve been killed weeks ago when they were busted out of the arena. But it looks like they’ve been torturing him for information. Which is as dumb of an idea as trying to torture Johanna for information.

Because if there is one other person who lives by their spiteful hatred of the Capitol more than Johanna, it is her fellow District 7 victor, Ashford Flint.

His eighteen-year-old son was reaped, and Ashford was forced to mentor his kid who made it to the final two to only be taken out by a Gamemaker trap. Ashford would sooner be tortured into pieces than ever give up anything to these people.

And while they haven’t even been close, just neighbors in Victors Village who interacted for things with the games, the pair always had a mutual understanding of loss.

He is the person who found her sitting outside her nephew’s school after he was killed.

She’s too busy gasping in wet air while they give some dumb speech about how she needs to talk or they will hurt Ashford more.

As if he isn’t already mangled and tortured into something unrecognizable.

Johanna barely glances at them.

She only looks over when one of the guards says, “And you think your little stunt will do anything, but all it did was bring death to thousands in your home district.”

“What the fuck riddles are you speaking in, Baldy?” Johanna screams.

She screams everything now.

Every slap and kick she gets for being defiant or spitting in their face is one step closer to death.

Johanna smiles insanely at him with blood in her mouth after he backhands her.

“Your little pocket stunt.”

And they are such fucking idiots. They just gave her so much fuel to keep up her resolve of not breaking. Why would they tell her that her pocket stunt during the propo made the Capitol look like a bunch of fucking idiots?

That’s the best things Johanna has heard in weeks.

It means it gave people back home fuel to their fire.

She giggles, deranged and cranking up in volume.

She’s happy, this is the happiest she thinks she’s ever been.

Another backhand stings brutally against the other side of her face.

She only laughs harder.

Doubling over and clutching at her bruised and probably cracked ribs from weeks of kicking. Johanna is letting out deranged, joyful giggles, “You fucking idiots. How dumb are you? It sounds like my people are fighting back and winning. And all I did was make you guys look fucking stupid, then again we already knew that! Pathetic, sick, depraved, small, incompetent -”

Her words are interrupted by a loud bang of a gunshot nearly deafens her. It makes her jump because of the suddenness. But the smugness of her captors faces at Johanna startling drops into rage when Johanna cackles louder.

Because the punchline gets better.

Ashford’s head limply hangs, smoke coming out from the back of his skull. His brains and blood spatter onto the tile wall.  It’s like a pretentious abstract painting of one thing that doesn’t exist in the Capitol – mercy.

These guards just continue being idiots.

They’ve always underestimated her, even in this game of torture.

Because she played those guards, manipulated those hotheads into losing their tempers and taking that poor suffering old man out of his endless misery. Who knows how long they could’ve kept him alive to keep carving away at like that?

Consider it a parting gift, Ashford.

Johanna throws her head towards the ceiling and laughs. She smacks at the wall beside her where she knows Peeta is chained.

“Peeta, do you hear these fucking numb nut idiots? They’re giving me everything I wanted. Maybe I should ask for steak dinners for their lovely guests,” she giggles. “How do you want yours cooked, bread boy?”

They nearly kill her for it.

Hours and hours of endless electrocution.

It lasts so long she forgets she exists in some moments.

In other moments her entire existence is only ever knowing agonizing shocks.

Once they tire of that, they chain her cuffs to a ceiling and spray her down with a hose to get all the blood and waste off her. They whip her back, and she can feel her body slowly seeping her soul out of the multiple gashes.

She can’t even keep track of how many wounds have been snapped open on her back.

But she can only distinguish on her upper right shoulder where they spend lots of time torturing her for her stunt. They do anything possible to further poke, prod, and torture the wound, not ever letting it heal or close.  

---

More days have passed.

And she thinks from the pulsing and relentless agony on her back it means she’s close to death.

Her body sweats and shakes with a fever and the weakness she feels settling inside her make her think the wound is getting infected.

Hopefully it will kill her soon.

She tries to goad them into killing her constantly with little success.

Peeta’s screams are worse and constant in her ears. But Johanna barely has anything left in her to scream for it to affect him.

Honestly, he seems so insane by now he may not even remember Johanna is next door. Or even remember who she is.

---

The constant torture and information they want is mainly names of people involved in the plot. They also want names of those in District 7 who are rebels since they clearly couldn’t get it out of Ashford.

She’d sooner die before betraying anyone from her home district like that.

And as they press and press her for names, she truly realizes how limited her access to rebel names she had. She mainly had one person she interacted with most for rebel stuff, and it would be beyond a big revelation to the Capitol.

But Johanna can’t. She won’t.

It would mean betraying the one person she has left. The only person alive that probably even cares that Johanna is captured and being tortured.

Virginia Venatrix.

Johanna never even lets herself think of her, just to avoid chance of mumbling out her name in pain or in her sleep. Because surviving this would be so much easier if she could let herself think about Virginia, so many of Johanna’s favorite memories were with her.

But it is a liability to let her mind cling onto the memories even if they may provide the slightest fraction of respite from her torture.

If they knew Virginia was a spy and what she was to Johanna…it would make that Daisy tape look like a childish cartoon. And they’d do it to Virginia, directly in front of Johanna.

She refuses to let it happen.

Maybe that also is what makes her force herself into not breaking.

Mind over matter – becomes a mantra she lives by each time the lever is yanked by her electrocutioner.

One day they amp up the voltage even higher as they interrogate her, it is one of the first times she genuinely feels herself struggle to stay silent. It hurts so bad, and she just wants it to be over already.

“We know Plutarch left several of his little agents behind,” the man barks. “Johanna, just give us one name and we can stop for the day. We’ll even give you some real dinner – your choice of dish.”

Virginia is all she has left. And Johanna is all Virginia has.

She just can’t.

With the mention of Plutarch in so many questions, another name often pops in her mind that she forces herself to swallow down – Isolde. Virginia’s super shitty, creepy ex who went through the same spy training. She’s a Gamemaker and a genuinely bad person, Johanna could feel righteous saying her name.

But Johanna can’t risk it, it could too easily be connected right back to Virginia.

When the mouthguard is yanked from her dry mouth, her unraveling mind only has so much strength. Her frail body has been obliterated and chipped away, and Johanna can feel that she is about to give them a name.

Anything to make it stop.

But she can’t say either name, so she begins with the list of ghosts.

Those who they tried to erase.

She will never let them.

“Al-“ Johanna’s dry mouth cracks.

“Al? Al who?” They press.

Johanna licks her cracked lips, iron blood wetting her tongue, “Alberta.”

“Alberta?”

“Conner,” Johanna coughs when they press. “R-river.”

“Three people,” the other guard mutters to one.

“Willow,” Johanna continues.

This is when her captors realize that she is listing out her loved ones names.

“Nobody asked for the names of your stupid dead family,” the man barks after spraying her down with ice cold water.

Johanna rapidly tries to spit out the remaining names that are all engraved on a piece of expensive marble at a graveyard far away in District 7. “Katherine, Ja-“

The mouthguard is shoved back in her mouth, silencing her.

The next jolt of electricity sent through the wires on her skull make her body contort in agony. It lasts for centuries. Her jaw clamping down harder, her wrists gush blood from the yanking on her restraints, her nerves sizzle and fry through her entire body, the room reeks of her blood and singed flesh.

The shock ends, it felt strong enough like it should’ve been enough to end Johanna’s life and somehow manage to revive her.

And they don’t intend to stop.

The torture session only ends when she finally breaks and gives them something.

But when she is dumped back onto the damp tile floor, she shivers and could laugh if she had anything left in her.

The name she gave? Sylvia Whatknot.

Her awful, cruel, untalented stylist who is a Capitol loyalist through and through.

The idiots think they actually got crucial information out of her.

After Cinna’s move of turning Katniss’s wedding dress into a mockingjay on interview night, the Capitol has uncovered several rebel stylists. She knows this well enough from the fact that Portia, Peeta’s stylist, has been tortured several times in front of him. It’s like Johanna still could still hear Portia insisting that Peeta knew nothing between screams.

So, Johanna went with that, said it was Sylvia who had similar views to Cinna and Portia and held her ‘cover’ for over four decades by pretending to be a staunch loyalist. The way Johanna was begging for the shocks to stop and how she sobbed while finally spewing those lies seemed to sell it.

Maybe that fake lead will actually get her shitty stylist offed, but all Johanna knows is that she got the torture to stop for the day and was actually fed.

She’ll be punished for it more later since she led them astray, but every punishment is a step towards death.

It makes her motivated to use her tiniest bits of brainpower to try and weave lies she could continue to feed them. Make it impossible for them to justify keeping her alive.

Anything at this point to end her misery.

Death is Johanna’s only goal.

Notes:

Thank you for reading!! I don't have much of a desire to have a super drawn out or detailed torture arc, that's why the first chapter is so summarizing. Also, i absolutely feel like the title is Johanna's brand of humor, that she is in the most loving way like a cockroach. This story will obviously be rough, as we see it starting off with her as a prisoner, but she will claw her way to a happy ending!

I appreciate any feedback and love kudos/comments/bookmarks :)

Up next in Chapter 2: Johanna is taken on a field trip and is reunited with a couple people, all while actively dying.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Summary:

Johanna's physical state deteriorates and she sees a few familiar faces.

TW: canon typical violence, torture

For the first time in weeks, Johanna’s captors don’t wake her by spraying her with water or kicking her. It can only mean that they still think she actually broke and gave information to them. A part of Johanna’s body surges with pride at the idea of Sylvia, that awful wench, being tortured.

“Are you smarter than yesterday?” One guard greets.

“Probably not since you guys keep shocking me and slapping me around,” Johanna winces out as she moves to sit up.

“Very funny, now we need more information about District 7. I feel as if yesterday you finally learned your lesson, right? You cooperate with us, and it makes things better for you.”

Fucking idiots.

Johanna would roll her eyes at the fake manipulative nice act if the action didn’t make her brain feel like it was melting against her exploding skull.

“So, are we going to have to resort to the same measures as yesterday? Or can we skip that part and you cooperate?”

Johanna shrugs as much as her battered body can, “Depends, feed me again? Something that isn’t garbage scraps.”

The guards share a look and shrug, “Sure.”

If she had the energy, she’d laugh that she has become so difficult that they are so easily agreeing to feed her.

“Fine,” Johanna agrees.

She spent the hours since her last torture session stringing together her thoughts on how to continue misdirecting these idiots while they still don’t know she was lying when she leaked Sylvia’s name.

And she knew they’d ask her more about District 7, and she’d never betray her district. But last night she started thinking of other ways she could misdirect to help them. What better place to misdirect than the Wilds? Thousands of miles of rolling forests in frigid areas – a place that would result in an exceptionally difficult and long game of hide-and-seek the Capitol could get stuck in playing alone.

“You were deeply engrained in the rebellion in your district, is that correct?”

Johanna just nods while shoving half a roll in her mouth.

“And we need names of known associates you worked with.”

“You want me to sell out my neighbors? Would you do that to the Capitol?” She asks.

“Never, but we aren’t the ones who revolted and started a war,” the main interrogator evenly says. “We aren’t in the wrong here.”

“Well obviously, I disagree. You guys kill kids for fun and the government controls all of us,” Johanna drawls. “So you’re the one in the wrong here. But hey that’s why wars happen, huh? Disagreeing on facts that should be fucking obvious.”

“Are you willing to continue cooperating or not?” the other guard asks and swoops down to yank the bowl of broth off the ground before Johanna can even take a bite. It automatically makes her stomach gurgle painfully against her concaved, prominent ribs.

“Is there anything else I could answer without naming names?” Johanna asks weakly and her sentence is punctuated by a wheezing cough she’s been developing.

“Are you asking that because you can provide other vital information to help us take back District 7?”

Johanna sighs and reaches up pathetically for the food that they yank out of her reach. She can literally feel her emaciated body eating away at itself. She doesn’t have to be a good actor since she is turning into a husk and is dying. Most captors would believe a person at her point of torture and starvation would break and spill information over a single, small hot meal.

She just is weak and shoves her palms into her face.

“Maybe we need to hook you up to the machine again. A couple shocks may shake that loose.”

Automatically her feet press into the floor and she shoves herself further into the corner of the cell, “Pl-please no. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Then work with us, Johanna.”

“I can give you information on District 7, but I refuse to give you any names. Maybe try torturing that out of me a different day,” she winces. “Please give me the food back, you won’t have anything left to torture if you starve me to death.”

“What kind of information?”

“How people from District 7 escape Panem.”

“We’ve secured the northern border and have troops within fifty miles on both sides,” the man laughs in her face. “Your tip will do us no good.”

“And how successful have you guys been at finding rebels trying to escape or keeping people from re-entering?”

She knows they won’t answer, but she hopes it will intrigue them enough. Johanna decides to pepper in some truth.

“We had Peacekeeper double agents on the eastern border that helped people escape,” Johanna says easily. She holds up a finger when one is about to cut her off, “Obviously, I know you know that. It was squashed in our uprising attempt.”

“Are you saying there are more Peacekeeper double agents on other borders?”

“No,” Johanna wheezes out. “But I can tell you that you are wasting your time doubling down on the northern border.”

“Well, that is just incorrect.”

Johanna laughs insanely in a way that they associate with her mocking them. But she is just laughing at how she is hopefully going to misdirect them.

“Stop laughing!”

“You idiots,” she chuckles and leans back. Her laughs evolve into pained coughs until she swallows thickly and continues, “You’ve squashed those attempts because we aren’t stupid enough to escape through the most obvious border.”

“Is that why you brought up the Peacekeepers on the eastern border leading into other districts?”

Johanna nods, “But it’s not the eastern border. Be a smart little geography boy for me. District 7 is the northernmost district, but what other direction are they on the edge on?”

“I’m not asking you to give me questions. Give us answers.”

Johanna rolls her eyes like these torturers are the biggest drags on the planet rather than her violent captors, “That western border of Panem? The northern part is in District 7.”

“So what, you guys are escaping into near frozen seas?” They mock.

Johanna scoffs, “Yeah, because you idiots think we aren’t strong enough to brave that and survive it but we do. People escape the western border. There’s a depot of boats in the southwestern parts of Seven.”

“Tiny row boats wouldn’t survive that nice try.”

“Wow, you are stupider than you look,” she snarls but it sounds more like a wince. “It’s almost like District 4 is one of your most rebellious districts. Those giant crab liners? They’re made for the northern seas. Or do where do you think your fancy snow crab comes from?”

“So, it is collaborative with District 4?”

She nods.

“Where do they escape to?”

“Often they go well over two hundred miles past the northern border and back into the Wilds,” Johanna explains to them like they are idiotic children incapable of reading.

“And people are living there?”

“Or travelling eastward to try and get to District 13,” she says.

“That sounds excessive and almost un-survivable, why would we believe you?”

“Because being in the districts under the Capitol’s control is excessive and un-survivable. At least they can die hiking towards something like freedom on their own terms rather than starving and having ttheir children stolen from them each year!” She impatiently snaps. “Can I have my food now?”

“This intel isn’t that helpful, the range you’ve given is thousands of square miles,” the other guard says. “Give us more specific information, and then we’ll see.”

They walk out with her soup in hand and she is so pissed. Maybe they’re playing her too.

But a few minutes later, one of the guards comes in with a tray and drops it unceremoniously on the ground in front of her. The food is just out of her reach, even when she yanks on the chains on her wrists to try and grab it. Her fingertips brush along the edge of the tray and a black boot comes out to yank the tray further out of her reach.

She can see from here that a larger bowl of broth, two slices of bread, and a half-rotted apple await her. Her stomach is about the size of a pea and it grumbles and roils painfully for the sustenance.

“You want this? Give us more specific information about the western escapes so we know we can believe you,” the harsher one evenly demands.

Johanna collapses back to sit on the cold ground and groans, “Fine, bring in a map then. I can show you the specific towns and areas in the Wilds they try to escape to.”

After an hour of being relentlessly hounded about details over a map of Panem, they finally shove the tray across the floor at her. The action makes over half the broth slosh over and out of the bowl.

She tries to pace herself so it all doesn’t come back up, but it is hard. She can feel her body eating away at itself and she wants to force this miniscule stuff in under a minute. But even pacing herself and licking the tray and bowl clean makes her feel bloated and struggles to breathe.

But she is still starving to death.

Johanna rubs at prominent ribs and concaved stomach as if she’s had a feast she’s beyond satisfied with. But nothing is more satisfying than knowing she’s leading those idiots on a wild goose chase to find absolutely nothing but wilderness.

She can’t wait for when they realize she lied, because hopefully it will ensure her own death.

---

Later that day Johanna awakens from a short fever dream. Her body is soaked in a cold sweat and her skin crawls as it anticipates volts of electricity that accompany the sensation.

Johanna still feels so close to death, having two meals didn’t do much to improve her state. It takes her minutes to pull herself up to sit against the wall adjacent to Peeta’s.

His screams dying down from his torture ending is actually what awoke her. Maybe she is so close to death that she sleeps through his screams or maybe she is so used to it that it has become some warped white noise machine.

“Katniss! Katniss!”

She’s so sick of hearing that girl’s damn name.

“Mutt! Mutt, she’s a mutt.”

“No, she isn’t, dipshit!” Johanna loses her patience and smacks the wall and yells back.

She doesn’t expect him to hear her, he hasn’t heard her in what feels like weeks.

And nothing is more annoying than Johanna’s last weeks of her pathetic life being consumed by using her dwindling energy to try and convince a teenage boy driven mad that while Katniss fucking Everdeen is a lot of things, she is nothing close to a sadistic mutt.

Half of Katniss’s grating personality that is so hard to stomach is the whole defender of the helpless act that is somehow genuine. And while Johanna’s always interpreted Katniss’s relationship and feelings towards Peeta as fake to a point of using him at times, and that she has that weird cousin boyfriend back home, to some constipated extent, Katniss cares for Peeta.

The teenage drama is sickening and a torture of itself that in this cell after everything, after Peeta did so much to help Johanna keep from going insane in those first few weeks, that she essentially become a Katniss Everdeen advocate whenever she is capable of trying to argue with him through the walls.

“She’s a killer, a sick mutt! She tried to kill me; she killed my family. My mother-”

“Okay, so you’ve just fully lost it,” Johanna mutters into her sweat soaked chest. Her eyes trace a droplet of sweat that falls in the concave of her visible ribs on her chest. “Also, you told me during one of our first heart-to-hearts through this awful wall that your mom slapped her kids and husband around. So if Katniss did kill her, she’d be doing this world a huge fucking favor.”

It’s not like she has some righteous desire to defend Katniss, more so a way to defy the Capitol further. A way to try and undo the rewiring the Capitol is doing to Peeta’s brain.

He’s just so miserable.

And still just a kid.

“Peeta,” Johanna yells and smacks the wall until his screams slow. “It’s Johanna.”

His frenzy on the other side of the wall slows, “Johanna?”

“Yes, Johanna Mason. Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Just sit down,” she grunts. “You’re being so fucking annoying.”

“Because Katniss-”

“Katniss is annoying, but that isn’t what’s making you like this. They are!” Johanna yells the last sentence and slaps the cool tile wall.

“No, no!” He starts to sound like he is fighting with himself.

“Peeta!” She hisses. “She is the mother of your child and fiancé.”

“There’s no baby, she killed it. The propo! She killed our baby.”

There never was a baby unless if the virgin mockingjay could procreate on her own, but she’s overheard from the tapes they play him of Katniss that Katniss and the rebels lied that the shock of the arena caused the miscarriage. But everything about that night with the bust out is like snipping the hair trigger holding Peeta’s sloshing brain together.

No, Katniss didn’t kill their baby. Nothing did. But like this game of torture, redirecting and clinging to truths where possible could do something to make the reality – that Katniss doesn’t have it out for Peeta – more tangible in his mind.

“No, Peeta I did.” Johanna dully lies. Let him hate and blame her, maybe it will keep the Capitol’s damage from sticking. She sighs, “I attacked her in the arena, bled her out like a stuck pig. That probably killed it.”

“Why would you do that?” his frenzy slows a little. “Did you know she was a mutt?”

Impatiently she groans, “She isn’t a mutt, how fucking stupid did they turn your brain?”

“If she isn’t, then why-“

“What kind of mutt who tries to kill you would’ve kept you alive as much as she did. You would’ve been dead eighty times over if she didn’t keep you alive. As far as I’m concerned, you were fucking dead weight in that arena,” Johanna can’t stop the cruelty.

It isn’t fair, she had a mentor with one leg, so she can easily guess how difficult it probably was for Peeta being in an arena on such a fresh prosthetic. Not to mention that jungle brush was the worst and toughest foliage Johanna had ever hiked through after a life of living in forests.

It isn’t Peeta’s fault.

But Mags is dead because of him being unable to walk and Katniss being unable to help.

Finnick is totally alone, Annie has probably been killed.

And her best friend has probably killed himself.

So while she is trying to prove that the Capitol is warping his mind, Johanna decides cruelty can still get the point across to Peeta.

Her head is swirling, her mouth is bone dry, everything is one distinguishable ache, the hunger is back, her scabs on her skull itch, the wound killing her on her right shoulder has yet to stop pulsing…Johanna is exhausted.

So it makes it so easy to hate and blame Peeta so much for Mags right now. That’s why she is so easily cruel despite the fact that he was never mean when he helped keep her sane before they fucked up his head.

“Finnick kept me alive,” Peeta weakly responds.

“Sure, in that arena, what about your first one, hotshot?”

She says it like the ultimate gotcha line that obliterates his argument. His mind is too far gone to probably objectively rebuttal that Katniss was only able to keep Peeta alive in their first arena, because of the multiple things Peeta did to protect her. But she can omit that little detail.

Something in that statement makes the weak rubber band holding his mind together snap. He begins yelling, his own words overlapping each other. She thinks he throws himself into the wall to try to get to her.

Clearly redirecting the whole ‘Katniss is an evil mutt’ theory can’t rely on pragmatic reason alone.

Maybe if Johanna could walk to the other side of her room without passing out, she’d try to grab the quarter deck of cards her captors gave her for entertainment.

(Peeta got the rest of the card deck).

In their first few weeks here, Peeta would make Johanna guess the suit and number of the card he was holding to keep her from slipping into madness as she quaked in paralysis.

She should try to do the same for him.

But she is too weak, and honestly, she thinks if she tried at this point, he’d spew some insane shit like Katniss made the cards out of his dead mother’s skin or some shit.

Whatever.

She’s going to die soon; fuck she can feel it.

And she needs Peeta to die too. He’s screamed too much; he’s been broken too much.

Both need to be taken out of their misery like Ashford was.

---

The next time she is woken up with blaring horns peppered in the loud music and a nudging kick. The type of kick as if her captors are testing if she is still alive.

“Field trip time,” he hisses in greeting.

“’nother reward for my good behavior?” She slurs and pauses halfway through to lick her dry lips.

“No, in fact, Sylvia has denied everything thus far,” the guard says as he gives her a harder nudge with his boot to turn her onto her back.

She winces as her pounding wound on her back is pressed into the tile, “Yeah, obviously. Just like how I had nothing to do with the breakout. I had no clue about the rebel plot. I genuinely just tried to kill Katniss and accidentally pulled that tracker out,” she sarcastically mutters. “Total misunderstanding.”

The bottom of the boot hovers above her bony chest. The smallest bit of weight presses down on her, “If you lied…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolls her eyes and the act discombobulates her skull enough that she nearly throws up. “You’ll torture me, I’m glad I’m sitting down for that one.”

“You’re laying down, you idiotic district scum,” the man snarls. “Now get up.”

Johanna is too weak to stand and her captors well know that. But when she collapses under her own frail weight it doesn’t stop the impatient, cruel man from yelling something else before grabbing the neck of her yellowed nasty white paper scrubs so he can punch her in the side of the head.

Two of her guards end up dragging her to wherever they’re taking her with both her hands and ankles shackled. Each dragging inch she trips over the chain, and they’re pissed about it as if it is some surprise. It’s almost like a walking dead person isn’t coordinated.

Fuck, maybe this field trip is her execution that would be nice.

The new corridor they take her down smells like sterile antiseptic. Like they’re leaving the deepest, cruelest levels of this torture basement where the hall Peeta and Johanna is in reeks of blood, piss, shit, and dying people.

One shoves her in the new room so hard that Johanna almost faceplants on the cool tile. Her body screams everywhere as she takes what feels like hours to turn onto her aching side to find the source of the weeping in the corner.

A disheveled brunette woman looks frail and unharmed from where she is chained in a corner.

If it weren’t for the lost look in those sharp, clear green eyes Johanna wouldn’t recognize her.

But that haunted, empty look is almost identical to how she stared catatonically on stage in District 7 during the 70^th Victory Tour five years ago.

Annie Cresta.

Johanna’s dying, aching body musters such a sharp jolt of agony for Finnick. It is delivered like a high voltage shock, pain rolling from her brain and down her limbs like rivulets of sizzling water.

It means Finnick is long dead, probably having killed himself the second Annie was taken. And if he is still alive, it’s probably only through people pumping him full of food and drugs to keep him alive against his will.

These idiots can’t really think that Annie would know any valuable information.

In some twisted way, this is another way they’re about to torture Johanna.

Her question is answered minutes later when a TV is rolled in on a cart and they smugly shove a tape in, begin playing it, and leave the room.

Johanna knows what it is before it even starts playing.

One of the sex tapes that Finnick and Johanna were forced to film.

It’s clever torture to hurt them both.

To make the very mentally unwell girl with zero information crack and break at her love being with someone else (fake or not). It isn’t like Annie was unaware of what Finnick endured. But being forced to watch it is a different thing.

And for Johanna, it’s reliving some of the worst and scariest moments of her life. All she can think about when looking at the screen is how young she looked. She was a teenager just trying to protect her family.

The being forced to watch with Annie is obviously her captors way of trying to use Johanna’s last known person against her despite him being out of their grasp.

It’s well known how close Johanna and Finnick are, he’s her best friend. What better way to make her already shitty body feel worse than to sit beside the woman he loves as she’s forced to watch this?

All Annie does is sob and shiver.

Johanna just stays silent – her body hurts too bad to really care or focus on anything else. And maybe if she wasn’t actively dying, she’d have the energy to wince and heave one dry sob at the visceral sounds of Annie choking out a wail after Johanna’s voice moans Finnick’s name through the speakers.

---

They try playing the tapes again when Johanna is alone in her cell the next day, passively playing all day. Any time the tape ends, they come in and restart it.

It’s to mentally break her, but part of this is a fucking vacation for her agonizing wounds on her body. And without Annie here, it takes away all emotional pain her body could muster.

She dully watches Finnick and herself pretending to enjoy themselves.

“My ass looks great there,” Johanna remarks when a guard comes into her cell to start the tape over. “Thanks for the free entertainment, I’m sure pervs like you paid a pretty penny to watch stuff like this. I feel so special to get this without asking.”

Her mocking is cut off by a backhanded slap.

---

More time blurs together.

The next time she wakes up, she is uncuffed and beaten, thrown against the wall, kicked, punched, and dragged to her electrocution.

Johanna can barely hear their barked words, her own ears pulsate and never stop hearing loud jolts and zaps. But it doesn’t take much for her to know, they figured out the Sylvia thing was a total fucking lie.

She hopes they at least managed to kill the bitch before they came to that obvious conclusion.

They barely even question her.

It is all punishment.

Johanna eagerly wishes before each turn of the lever that this will be the shock to kill her. 

But it never does.

---

Days have passed.

Ever since the Sylvia reveal, her existence becomes a blur of worsening torture and pain.

The fever feels like it is overtaking her, and she’s barely been able to stay awake or fully conscious.

She’s always sweating, nauseous, and passing out. She can’t even count how many times she’s passed out in the middle of their electrocution or being ripped out of her sleep by the electrodes pulsing on her skull making her chomp down on the rubber mouthguard they jam in her mouth.

The only thing that breaks up her hazed constant state of pulsing pain over every inch of her body is when they throw another person in her cell one day.

And if Johanna wasn’t so close to death, then her resolve would finally be chipped at.

These idiots even failed at correctly manipulating her.

Because the only thing that saves her ass is she is so weak it dilutes and hides her reaction when her bleary eyes make out a bound and gagged Virginia Venatrix in a chair a few feet in front of her.

It’s hard to focus her eyes. Most images are blurry now, she thinks she’s been hit in the head too many times. She feels like one giant bruise.

(Then again, she could be dying and on her way out from how otherworldly and beautiful the sight is in her ugly world).

Wet hazel eyes lock on her and a million moments rush through her as a sort of horror of her worst fears culminate in front of her.

The thing she feared most when letting Virginia in, the fear of the Capitol using Virginia as a tool to hurt Johanna is happening.

She means so much to Johanna, it would almost revive her dying body if seeing her in this prison wasn’t the worst thing imaginable.

But her visceral internal panic allows her feverish brain to retain a hard grip on her lucidity, and once she objectively takes in Virginia’s physical state it is the closest thing to relief that has ever existed in here.

Virginia has not been compromised.

If they knew she was a rebel spy, she wouldn’t look like this. She’d be battered, bloodied, and emaciated. She has blood staining the corner of her chin, noticeable fingerprint bruises on her arms, and has lost some weight. But that appears to be it.

And they must have no clue what Virginia is to Johanna. If the Capitol figured out their relationship, this cute little reunion would have happened weeks ago. And Virginia certainly wouldn’t look this good.

“You lied about Sylvia,” The guard begins. “Maybe you were buying time, but maybe it was more.”

“Why did you give Sylvia’s name but didn’t name Virginia?” The other guard asks.  

Johanna is still lying, half-dead and nonreacting on the dank, damp ground. Her lungs feel like they’re full of liquid, it’s so hard to even inhale. As she tries to glue together the broken slush her brain has become, the other guard smacks Virginia across the face at Johanna’s silence.

Why are they doing that? If they don’t suspect Virginia, Johanna wouldn’t expect someone with a Capitol pedigree to receive the brutality.

“If she isn’t a rebel, why name Sylvia?” They repeat.

She forces herself to lie in the best way possible – by redirecting with actual truths.

“Fuck Sylvia,” Johanna slurs out through her watery throat. “That bitch deserved it, I hope you fucking killed her.”

“Why did she deserve it?”

“She told them to put these f-fucking implants in me,” Johanna wheezes, “And for my mom.”

“What about your stupid dead mom?”

Johanna dully keeps her eyes locked on Virginia’s. She never knew she could see something that is so beautiful and such a relief yet a literal nightmare.

“S-snow killed my mom,” Johanna coughs. She blinks and just keeps her eyes shut so everything can stop spinning, her words slightly slur and stutter together. “’cause I attacked that crone for groping these.”

She weakly reaches up to smack at her chest that is still robust despite the rest of her skeletal form. She can see her ribs and sternum, it almost makes the implants so much more obvious and visible.

“She has a track record, I guess,” one guard jokes to the other.

“Miss Code Black, as if anyone would want to touch that.”

For some reason, that evokes more of a response from Johanna than anything. Her eyes fling open and she uses any energy and sanity to snarl lethally at them.

“Yeah, because I look like a corpse. My whole family’s dead because you all wanted to fuck me so bad!” She scowls and tries to spit at their feet, but it only is dry air flatly passing through her cracked lips. Johanna tosses her head back and laughs, sarcastic and wet, “Sorry I didn’t do my fucking hair for you.”

Johanna giggles harder and rubs at her scabbed bald head as coughs overpower her laughter.

“So what? The Sylvia thing was a whole stupid teen vendetta.”

“Sure, if you want to simplify my mom down to that,” she hisses.

For her disrespecting sarcasm, one of the guards’ grabs a cup of water they brought in for her to drink and tosses it on her.

Johanna contorts as if the shocks have already followed it.

“Thanks for the shower,” she grumbles.

“Did you know Virginia’s dad was rebel scum like you?” The one guard asks after a few minutes of staring at her.

Johanna looks away from Virginia’s tear-filled eyes. She knows Virginia is probably having to act like a fragile Capitol escort who can’t handle this torture or pain. But Virginia is trained to be immune, didn’t she say she was 99% torture proof?

But the tears look so real, and Johanna knows it is the smallest bits of Virginia’s agony showing at the sheer sight of Johanna. She knows because it is like the way Virginia looked at her on their last mission when the rebels forced Virginia to put Johanna through a round on the torture simulator – which turned out to be incredibly beneficial to Johanna’s current situation.

That pain in her eye that day is so much stronger now, but it is mixed with a perfectly empty mask. It really sells a shellshocked Capitol girl.

She wonders if how she looks to Virginia right now the same way Ashford looked to her when they brought him in here weeks ago.

Definitely.

Johanna is about to die, clearly. She needs to go out protecting Virginia even if this is probably the hardest thing she’s ever done.

“Seems like her dad is probably rolling over in his grave for what she is part of then,” Johanna grits out.

“Did you know that? Yes or no”

“No, why the fuck would I? I don’t give a shit about some Capitol bitch’s daddy issues,” Johanna drawls and rolls her eyes.

“You two are basically the same age. Never hung out and bonded over that?” One guard mocks, “Your pathetic, wifebeater, drunk of a father.”

She flings herself to sit up with a deranged grin, and the act makes her sway from dizziness, “Hey, Baldy! We finally found something to bond over!” Johanna excitedly screeches out.

Both guards widen their eyes like she has totally lost it.

Maybe she has.

Johanna throws her head back and cackles again, it is rapidly cut off with the wet crack of coughs ripping through her throat and chest, she wheezes and pants out her response once the coughs die down, “I hate my piece of shit dead dad. Let’s talk shit, I’ve been dying to bond with you. Bald solidarity, you know. Except my hairline could come back.”

The man crosses the room in two strides to kick at her chest. It’s not hard enough to bruise, but she’s so weak it would barely take a gust of wind to make her collapse back.

“So you two never bonded over your daddy issues?” The other guard asks and gestures between Johanna and Virginia.

“Please, like I would ever talk to that snob outside of what is required,” Johanna scoffs.

“But you haven’t had issues with her like you did with Bianca, why is that?” One goads.

Johanna rolls her eyes and obviously states the truth, “Yeah, because I can respect that she works hard and doesn’t smack kids around.” She coughs and then follows the truth with a lie, “But she’s still a fucking kid killer, who reaped and sent me back into an arena. Why would I bond with that?”

Virginia just blinks and keeps her eyes shut.

Johanna desperately hopes that Virginia understands how hard it is to lie like this. It may be harder than it was to keep her mouth shut when they tried electrocuting the life out of her for weeks on end.

One guard yanks the gag out of Virginia’s mouth, “Have anything to say?”

“Don’t you dare lump me in with that sorry excuse of a man. He stopped being my father the second he betrayed the Capitol – and his family,” Virginia spits out in offense. “My mother and I passed all the years of house checks, watchlists, and random interrogations to not be guilty by association with him.”

“Sure, but-“

“Do you know what that’s like? I swore I’d be nothing like him. I worked my ass off to get into the Strata Scholar Program. I was the youngest scholar and I was the youngest person to ever win a Plinth Award Scholarship. I clawed my way out to fix the mark on my family name. And now I’m being lumped in with him again, like I had a choice in who my father was? Do you really think I wanted him to be rebel scum?”

“But you must admit, you have been around an awful lot of rebels,” one guard cuts in from Virginia’s loud yelling. “We’re supposed to just believe you’re innocent in all of this?”

“I shouldn’t be punished because some backwoods brat lied about Sylvia. Just like I didn’t choose my dad, I didn’t choose the victors I’d be stuck with.” Virginia spits out. “She’s made my job hell for years and even now I’m being punished for her bullshit. You know, Effie warned me about this when I started my job.”

“What does that mean? What does Effie know?” The persistent, bald guard asks.

Virginia rolls her eyes, “She told me if I did too good of a job handling a specific problematic victor that it would trap me for a career with no upward growth from that outer district. It happened to her with Haymitch.”

“He’s a rebel, does-“

“What does that have to do with it?” Virginia exclaims impatiently, accent thick. “She was an experienced, talented escort offering me genuine advice about upward mobility for my career. That has nothing to do with any rebel garbage, she was just looking out for me. And I wish I listened better.”

“Because you could wrangle Johanna in just like Effie did with Haymitch,” the other guard adds. “Is there more to it though? Why would Johanna behave for you?”

Johanna tosses her head back and laughs insanely, because her feverish brain makes a dumb innuendo in her head.

“Because I disarmed her drunk ass when she attacked me with her axe,” Virginia boldly explains and glares up at them both. Then she shrugs nonchalantly at their surprise once Johanna doesn’t dispute it, “What? I fenced in University.”

The guards look at Johanna who is just trying to tamp down another slew of wet coughs trying to rip from her chest.

Virginia continues, sounding like an indignant Capitol girl who just got her coffee order messed up, “This isn’t fair to punish me for being good at my job! How was I supposed to know she’d be a rebel?”

Her eyes drift past the guards to look directly at Johanna, “You look horrible by the way.”

Johanna hugs her ribs and mockingly cackles through her coughs, but this time it is from joyful relief.

Virginia knows.

This is what they have been trained to do to survive this shit.

They mean the world to each other, but nobody but them can know. What they’ve had has been everything in so many ways, and it deserves to remain just theirs and held close to the chest. Even in this un-survivable, agonizing situation. 

It will only remain with them until the end.

It will die with Johanna.

“Fine, so you wouldn’t care if we torture her some? Just like we did with Sylvia,” one goads, glaring directly at Johanna.

Call their bluff, they want a reaction.

Johanna’s shakiness in her voice is covered by a rattle exhaled from her lungs as she wipes at her dry eyes from laughing and coughing so hard, “You guys must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel if you think I would care or tell you anything over some Capitol bitch. Go for it, torture one of your own. It means I get to enjoy a show, and I get a break from the pain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Virginia insists to both guards.

A loud slap echoes across the room. And an array of tools are rolled out on a nearby cart. Johanna can’t bring herself to look at the blades and other torture devices, she glares up at the ceiling and masks it as an eye roll.

The guards shove the gag back in Virginia’s mouth as she becomes more belligerent with denial – she’s a good actor with tears staining down her cheeks and soaking the gag sticking out of her mouth. At the sound of blades, Johanna forces herself to look over at them.

“Maybe carve up her face?” One guard says to the other as he messes with a lethal knife and presses the flat edge of the blade against Virginia’s cheekbone. He then looks back at Johanna to gauge her expression before he moves the blade to hover millimeters above Virginia’s pinky finger. “It’d be nothing to cut one of these off.”

“She does have nine other fingers,” the other guard adds.

Call their bluff.

“Are you asking for my opinion? Or is it my decision?” Johanna groans boredly, “Both are pretty tame options, do you care if I try to sleep while you do that? This whole being electrocuted into a husk really takes out the energy.”

One of the men’s faces turns beet red in anger.

It seems like they’re toeing this line to see if Johanna is indicating anything. But she just shrugs boredly and within a few moments they are dragging Virginia out of the cell with zero new injuries inflicted on her.

And even though she can already feel herself losing consciousness, Johanna catches the small twinkle of determination in Virginia’s stare as their eyes lock one last time before the cell slams shut behind her.

Virginia’s staying strong and she wants Johanna to as well.

But as her heart slows more and more, Johanna doesn’t think she can fight if she wants to.

---

The infection in her one wound is so painful she just lays on her stomach for what feels like years and wheezes between weird blurs of passing out.

---

Several gunshots ring out in the hallway at one point.

It isn’t anything new.

Yet the last parts of her unravel rapidly – was that Virginia they just killed?

No, right?

Is she permanently on this floor? The lowest layer of hell?

The hunger in her gut and stiffness in her limbs makes her think that Virginia was dragged out of this cell days ago, not minutes ago. But she can’t logic her hazy brain from the sharp panic.

She could have even hallucinated the sounds herself. Her skull pounds and she thinks she is finally falling into something more permanent.

---

Whenever Johanna is capable of thought between the haze of her mind-melting fever, she wonders if Virginia is dead or not.

Eventually they will need more information and try to break her with Virginia again and she’ll get confirmation she’s alive.

She reminds herself of that for about the dozenth time since she woke up. Johanna winces and glares up at the ceiling when she hears a weird hissing noise.

A green tinted gas swirls in through the air vent.

Johanna barely takes two lungful’s before being knocked out.

But as she loses consciousness, she hopes this gas is the Capitol finally giving up and killing her.

---

Except they didn’t.

The next time she opens her eyes, she’s startled with over a dozen faces leaning over her.

All their words blend together like trumpet sounds.

“You’re safe.”

She makes out the words being said by so many people.

Johanna doesn’t know what the word safe means anymore.

The answer of the stupid reassurance of safety is answered many hours later when Johanna wakes up again from the groggy haze of anesthesia. She’s in a sterile white hospital room, people are in gray scrubs, and then someone rushes into the doorway after some announcement of her finally waking up is relayed.

And Finnick Odair is known for his beauty, but Johanna has never seen anything as wonderful as an exhausted, washed out Finnick in gray uniform breathing out her name in relief.

Her best friend in this world sends her a broad smile as the intoxicating, warmth of something floods her veins. All her agonizing pain dulls its sharp edges, and she doesn’t take her eyes off his green ones.

The impossible has happened.

She’s been rescued.

Notes:

Surprise she is already rescued yeehaw.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate any comment/kudos/bookmarks it keeps me going! I love interacting with feedback - feel free to yell at me.

Up next in Chapter 3: Johanna doesn't exactly get a warm and fuzzy welcome in District 13. Call it a cost of her being the only rescued victor that hasn't lost her mind which means she gets stuck answering every invasive question about the hell she and Peeta survived.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Summary:

Sharing a cell wall with Peeta means being greeted with waking from surgery with a crowd asking about the worst weeks of Johanna's life.

TW: mentions of past torture, a sad Peeta early in his conditioning flashback

The next time Johanna awakens it is more permanent. All traces of the anesthesia are gone and there is a beautiful, dullness to her pain thanks to whatever floods her veins.

She almost forgot what not being in agonizing pain felt like.

“She’s waking up,” someone says from the foot of her bed.

Johanna groans and squints, the fluorescent lights reflecting awfully off the white tile, “Ugh, shut up.”

“Hi I’m one of your doctors…”

She actively tunes the person out and impatiently waves a hand, “Get to the point.”

“I’m just going to do a brief physical assessment. You just got out of surgery and were in critical condition, so it is imperative we stay thorough.” The doctor talks like someone holding out their hands while pleading with a person pointing a gun on them. He does not hide his fear of her well as he takes a few tentative steps closer and pulls the stethoscope off his neck, “You are safe and I’m not going to hurt you.”

He's talking to her like a caged and abused animal.

Maybe she is.

She rolls her eyes and huffs dramatically. The cold sting of the metal on her skin barely cuts through the haze of whatever is being pumped through her IV.

The doctor steps back after listening to her heart and lungs, “Thank you. Now I have a few questions.”

She rolls her eyes and waves a hand impatiently.

“Can you tell me your name and where you are?”

“I’m Johanna Mason. Based on this room and your pasty ass skin that looks like it’s never seen sunlight, I’d guess I’m in the coward hole – I mean, District 13.”

The doctor does not laugh at her hilarious insult.

“Do you know what day it is?”

She tosses her head back and laughs. A flood of relief with the drugs in her system accompanies the lack of crackling wet coughs that joined her cruel laughs in the last weeks. She forgot how easy breathing used to be.

“They didn’t really give me a calendar in there and I certainly didn’t have a window to have access to sunlight. Just like this pit,” she grumbles and glares around, pointedly ignoring the mirror opposite her bed. “They played music too much to try and keep track of time through sleep alone, so my system of keeping time was shoddy at best.”

“You say they, who do-“

“The Capitol, you idiot! We both know that,” she hisses impatiently.

The doctor nods meekly, “It is understandable under those conditions that you were unable to keep track of time. Agitation is also to be expected in your current state. Could you maybe give me an approximation of how long you think it has been since the Quarter Quell?”

She tries to count all her bloody tally marks she made on the one section of the tiled wall that often avoided the spray of water. “Probably a couple months,” she huffs. “Half a year max.”

“That is very good, Johanna,” the doctor says approvingly, “It has been roughly under three months. Do you understand how you got here?”

“Based on the fact that I’m not totally brainless, I’m going to assume you guys rescued the captured victors. I saw the gas from the vents in my cell. And now you’re hounding me, you annoying idiot.”

“Yes, she is alert and oriented times four. She is of sound enough mind for questioning, just do so with extreme caution.”

Johanna glances up at the flatly stated words and finally notices the rest of the giant crowd that has suddenly appeared, hovering in the doorway.

From her weeks of isolation in her torture, it only feels smothering seeing Finnick, Beetee, Haymitch, Plutarch, and one other man in a gray uniform filing in the room.

“Would it kill you to have a lady here? Come on,” she slurs.

Immediately, several of them try to explain things to her after the doctor files out of the room, but her head floats and struggles to grasp the information.

“Shut up, fuck,” she hisses and presses at her temples. “Everything hurts. One at a fucking time.”

The group all shares a look. Plutarch gives Finnick an intent nod and when he turns to face her, he looks queasy and uneasy about what needs to be discussed. It’s clear why Finnick is here for some familiarity to Johanna.

“Johanna, I’m so glad you’re here,” he begins softly. “I can’t imagine how awful everything has been, and I wish you didn’t need to be bugged so soon after waking…but you’re the best chance of a historian to describe what happened to the victors in captivity.”

Immediately Johanna is bristling, despite the drugs, “I’m the best shot after that bullshit thirty second exam with the cowardly quack who couldn’t even hide how much his stupid stethoscope was shaking at the idea of even touching me. You think that idiot is the best judge on mental soundness?”

“Nobody is trying to say you’re perfectly fine to handle all this, but based on our options…” Beetee trails off.

Johanna scoffs and tries to cross her arms but it makes her wires and tubes sticking out of her tangle, “Oh? So I’m being punished for not being batshit insane like Peeta or a headcase every day of my life like Annie?”

“Johanna,” Finnick tersely says.

“No,” she impatiently snips. “You guys can’t even be bothered to give me a meal before casually wanting me to recount the worst weeks of my life? Fuck, even my captors fed me when they were desperate to get information from me.”

“One of your medical team is going to the cafeteria to get your meal,” Haymitch offers. “That’s what your doctor said on the way out.”

“I look like someone glued cheap white paper on a skeleton, I think food should take priority over information,” she snips. “Could all of you be any more out of touch? Finnick, I would’ve expected after everything you wouldn’t treat me like this.”

“Please, Johanna, I don’t want to. None of us want to bug you when it is all so fresh,” Finnick urges. “I know it’s hard, but there’s a war right now. The information could be really important.”

“We’ve already lost ten hours while you were in surgery and the doctors letting you sleep afterwards. And every second counts. Time is of the essence, Johanna, we must move quickly,” Plutarch adds.

“Wow, I’m glad that after everything, you still get to call all the shots on my life, Plutarch,” she snarls when he has the gall to address her. If he had any ounce of being self-awareness he would know he should never dare speak to her again. “Hey, that rings a bell! Plutarch, were you one of the pervs who voted to shove implants in my malnourished teenage chest?”

Plutarch pinches his eyes shut and squeezes the bridge of his nose, like he is trying to remain patient with her. “Johanna, that wasn’t my decision. Yes, all the Gamemakers get a vote, but I voted against just as I did for Katniss.”

“And it did no good,” she growls and gestures at the one part of her hospital gown that her body touches. “You don’t dare get to take credit for Katniss avoiding it, only Haymitch does. Your choice or not, you took active part in almost every worst thing in my life – the games, the rape, the torture, all of it.”

She then glares past him to look evenly into the two-way mirror. She knows there are doctors on the other side and she tries to stare into those eyes rather than look at her unrecognizable face.

“So, maybe a Head Gamemaker of all things is not the smartest welcoming committee for me if you idiots care.”

But why would anyone care?

The only thing anyone cares about is what she can provide, which is information.

Plutarch taps his pen on his page, “Johanna, I don’t want you having to rehash all those things. But this is actually an exception to protocol, which would normally require a tribunal. But Katniss negotiated otherwise, so you actually get a –“

“Plutarch! Shut up,” Finnick impatiently hisses over at him.

“What the fuck about Katniss?” Johanna says through clenched teeth and her rage is amplified by her rapidly increasing heart monitor.

Finnick turns to look evenly at Johanna, “All he means is Katniss cut a deal so captured victors wouldn’t have to face a war tribunal upon rescue.” He leans in closer and gives her a sad smile, “Not that you needed it.”

Johanna rolls her eyes and stops to glare at the only District 13 native, the gray man by the door, she deadpans, “Wow, I am jumping for joy and so grateful I am not facing trial and death by a group of sheltered, cowardly, hypocrites for the crime of being tortured.”

“Johanna, please, it’s time sensitive,” Finnick softly says after a moment of silence.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Whatever, but Plutarch cannot question me or I’m not answering shit. Also, I had fever hallucinations at the end there, so I’m not some reliable historian like you assholes all think.”

Plutarch begins handing his notepad to Haymitch and Johanna nearly growls, “Fuck no, not him. Only Finnick or, ugh I guess, Beetee can ask me questions. But Beetee is on thin fucking ice. I will fully ignore anyone else.”

She doesn’t look up, just hears the men silently passing the notes. When she looks up, she sees Finnick has a glass of water with a straw in hand about five feet away. He isn’t even moving towards her, from the way he is holding it, he could just be drinking it himself, but she is reminded of all the times the cups of water brought in for her to drink were thrown on her.

It’s instinctual.

Her ragged, fatigued body is rapid and agitated in terror as she shoves her feet into the mattress to push herself to scramble away.

“No, no!”

Everyone looks at her with varying forms of pity.

“They tortured you with water?” Beetee eventually voices as silence fills the room.

Johanna rolls her eyes, and she dully says, “Obviously. I’m sure the doctors came to that conclusion on their own. What a nice intro, huh? Let’s get to it, Beetee.”

“Johanna, I will be candid with you, while it may be upsetting most of our early questions are about Peeta. Your cell was directly next to his, and anything you can remember may help us confirm our suspicions of what happened to him.” Beetee logically begins. “None of it makes what you went through any less awful nor does it make you less important, if anything you being strong enough to retain your mind in captivity makes you an incredible asset.”

It feels better to hear the bullshit being spoken frankly and logically to her, it’s why Beetee is who she suggested could also interview her. 

But none of it softens the blow of hurt. Nobody wants to hear about her, she is just an important and credible witness. And as always, everything circles back to Katniss.

“Yeah, why would anyone care about what I went through?” She mumbles.

“Johanna, it is not that. It is also to make it as painless as possible for you,” Beetee evenly responds. “You have clearly been through quite a lot and we aren’t ignoring that. In fact, it may be less damaging to your own health if we don’t make you divulge everything that was done to you right now and wait until your doctors can speak about that with you. They’ll likely be much better suited for the task.”

It should be comforting. Beetee wouldn’t bullshit or placate her, but it feels like a lie.

Now that her brain isn’t a vortex of feverish delusion and dying thoughts, the depth of abandonment she feels carves away at her concaved stomach.

A nurse comes in with a tray of food and Johanna is tempted to throw the tray at the nurse’s head, “Seriously? Are you guys planning on starving me like the Capitol did too?”

“You’re severely malnourished, we need to ween you back into bigger meals until we can help you gain some weight back,” the nurse explains curtly and turns to leave.

Johanna glares at the bowl of some broth with several vegetables, a roll, and a small bowl of yogurt.

“Do you think you can talk while you eat?” Haymitch eventually asks, he is shifting in his seat almost impatiently.

And the tiniest waves of calming back down she felt from the food soothing the hunger in her gut burns with white hot fury at him.

The audacity.

“Seriously?” She nearly growls. “You can’t wait the couple minutes it takes for me to take all six bites of this shitty food. Fuck, you’re so entitled. Just like your little girl on fire.”

“Johanna,” Finnick softly interjects.

“I’m not being impatient or entitled, it is just that your outbursts are hindering our ability to actually help Peeta,” Haymitch jabs, his tone is volatile and cruel but the bags of worry weigh down his eyes. “So if you could either eat faster or stop yelling at us for everything it would make all this way easier.”

Johanna shoves her tray away and grips so tightly on her spoon she could almost bend it. She points it accusingly at him, “Peeta, Haymitch, everything for fucking Katniss since she is too useless to survive on her own. Do you even know how many people died for both of you to survive? Do you remember other people exist? That I am also a person who was put through worse than any of you could imagine and maybe you shouldn’t be such a vile bitch about an inconvenient few minutes.”

Haymitch’s knuckles are paper white from how hard he clenches his angry fists, “Johanna, you can hate me all you want, but Peeta is still a kid. This isn’t about Katniss, it is about him, and we are all just trying to figure out-“

“I know he’s just a kid! For the months you all abandoned us, I was the only adult Peeta had,” she impatiently cuts him off. Her jaw wobbles for many reasons – because she failed to protect Peeta, because looking at Haymitch only makes her think of Ashford.

“Then start acting like it,” Haymitch angrily grits.

And Johanna is no stranger to hotheaded anger making you run your mouth cruelly before containing it – after all almost all her siblings had the same temper as her. She recognizes the instant guilt and regret covering Haymitch’s face after he realizes he’s being too harsh.

But his guilt and regret do her no good.

She snags up her bowl of yogurt and launches it at Haymitch’s head.

Unfortunately, he ducks in time, and the bowl explodes against the tile.

“I got to witness Ashford’s husk of a body get his skull blown out because of you, Haymitch! He died a useless death for your ungrateful, cowardly ass to be snuck out to this hole to hide from the real fight,” she yells. “You have no right to tell me to act like an adult, not when I know you have never been one, just a useless pickled manchild mothered by Effie Trinket for two decades. Yet you somehow mattered more than him.”

“I didn’t have a choice in any of that, Johanna,” Haymitch angrily responds and wipes at the specks of yogurt what bounced off the tile wall and onto his face.

She glares at Beetee and Finnick, “And your mentors for the Quell? Same shit as Ashford, all for fucking Haymitch to escape. But yours weren’t as lucky as Ashford, they didn’t have anyone to goad the guards into taking them out of misery.”

Johanna glares deadly into pissed off gray eyes, “I hope he fucking haunts you, Haymitch. You deserved to see what was left of him. They were cutting him up to pieces-“

An awful ragged sob rips up her raw throat. She pinches her eyes shut and tilts her face towards her lap so the tears won’t run down her cheeks.

Her fists at her sides shake uncontrollably and she swallows thickly.

“I can’t even look at him,” she says. “I won’t talk until you pull him out.”

“Johanna, he’s Peeta’s mentor. He’s worried. You know Mags or Archer-“

“Don’t!” Johanna cuts him off. “Don’t you dare put either of them in the same category as him. Mags and Archer were actual good people who cared. They actually tried and cared for every tribute they were stuck with. They would know how to question a different traumatized victor without making them feel like dogshit if you or I were in Peeta’s state.”

“I’ll leave, just please, Johanna,” Haymitch’s voice rings from the door. “Peeta attacked Katniss last night, and he has been irretrievable. It isn’t fair you have to be the person to tell us about it, just like it isn’t fair Ashford had to die for me. But since when has anything ever been fair?”

His voice has lost all its edge and venom, he just sounds so defeated, worried, and like he desperately needs a drink and a way to help Peeta. Perhaps he even needs the latter more than the former.

She waits until the door clicks shut and she looks directly at Beetee, “Well, I could’ve told you guys how bad of an idea it was to let Katniss go near Peeta.”

“Exactly, you have enough information that none of us had at the time that could’ve prevented something if you weren’t in surgery. We are hoping you have similar information that could help improve treatment plans for him,” Beetee responds.

She sighs and shrugs, “Fine, what do you want to know?”

“Well can you elaborate more on how you would’ve known it was a bad idea to let Katniss see Peeta?” Beetee asks.

“They broke his brain over time,” Johanna says with a shrug. “We only ever heard each other through the cell wall, so I never saw anything they did.”

“Was there anything specific that made you note his shift in behavior?”

“The first thing I noticed was that he stopped trying to comfort me through the wall,” Johanna emptily states. “Besides the first night, for the first week or so they barely laid a finger on him, but he was forced to listen to me being tortured. He kept me from going insane as I laid twitching like a dying fish for hours.”

“He stopped all at once?”

Johanna shakes her head and presses her palm into her forehead, “So much blurs together. But no, it just decreased over time until it stopped happening completely. I don’t know, he did the comforting long enough for me to build my own weird tolerance to the electrocution. So I was able to keep myself together once he stopped.”

Her words break and she shakes head and glares at the thin blanket on her lap, “I tried, I did. I know you guys might think I never would, but I tried talking to him the same way he did for me. He stuck his neck out for me since our first night there and he literally didn’t stop until they broke him, which he tried resisting for so long. He stayed strong like me. It was the least I owed him to try and be there and offset whatever they were fucking doing to him. But eventually we both got so much worse, I was only occasionally able to try to talk to him. I even tried to argue and prove him wrong when his tirades basically involved just saying the words: ‘Katniss’ and ‘mutt.’”

“He specifically called Katniss a mutt?” Beetee repeats to her.

Plutarch even leans forward, clearly this tidbit is something they want more information on. It’s the first time Johanna realizes that Peeta probably attacked Katniss because he was so petrified of her.

He was just again a tribute with a mutt trying to kill him.

And Johanna shrivels up at the sight and idea of water like a rabid animal.

The Capitol really did a number on the both of them, fuck.

“Oh plenty, I turned it into a game in my head to guess how much he’d say it after his torture sessions. Some days it seemed like those were the only two words he knew.”

“What preceded this in Peeta’s torture? From what you could hear?” Beetee asks.

Johanna looks at him obviously, “I mean he still got the standard prisoner fare of random beatings, people being tortured in front of him, and starving. Same as me.” She shrugs, “But I don’t know what they did to him, it never sounded too violent – what they would do to him while they made him watch videos, especially compared to all the noises in that hall. Almost every video was about or involved Katniss to some degree.”

“Yes, that is what we suspected,” Plutarch pipes up.

Beetee’s loud scribbling fills the room and he looks up at Johanna, “But were there any other memories of his they touched? Any non-Katniss ones?”

“Well they showed everything through video, so that automatically limits a lot of it to Katniss,” Johanna says with a hum. “There was one night though…”

Her own mind whirs to one of the first nights they started subjecting Peeta to that torture.

It was one of those rare nights that Johanna was actually able to help Peeta in the way he helped her.

They had played him videos that were clearly sounds of his family and friends from the Final Eight interviews of his first Games and then they showed the bombing of District 12. She remembers how he screamed so much for each person by name.

For a while, Peeta is only an indistinguishable screeching of watching every person burn to death melded together.

“My brothers,” Peeta whimpered through the wall. “They won’t stop burning. Why were their last words for me? They knew I wasn’t home, I was- I was in the arena?”

His body slammed against the spot where her back was resting against the opposite side.

“Peeta!” she called after releasing the pressure on her skull. His screams were so anguished and Johanna was so weak she had to keep pressing on her ears like Finnick did in the jabberjay section. “Peeta, your brothers aren’t here. Tell me anything else you can see.”

“J-johanna? Johanna, is that you? Are you burning?” Peeta screamed for her. “Make it stop!”

“Peeta, they torture me with water not fire,” she sarcastically called.

Her gallows humor made a bit of his onslaught of panic stutter and pause. And that’s when Johanna knew she had to try to be to Peeta what he was to her in their first few weeks here.

“Did you hear me?” She called.

A wailed grunt in affirmation is her answer.

“Good, Peeta, nothing is on fire. Nothing in my cell or yours, okay? Shut your eyes if you can’t stop seeing it.”

“O-okay,” he sounded as young as he did their first night in this hell. She could feel how petrified he sounded.

“Did that help?”

“Y-yeah, but I keep hearing their screams.”

“Does it help when I talk?”

“I think so.”

“So should I monologue? Relate about which of my loved ones I saw die in front of me? List out fun facts? Tell you a bedtime story?” she listed off.

Peeta’s uneven sobs were interrupted with a wheezed out laugh, “Anything. All of it. Anything so I can’t hear it. Please.”

She spent hours, possibly the whole night until whatever they injected him with was out of his system. She came to the conclusion that they must have injected him with something, because his panic never fully settled even after an amount of time that would lead to any human collapse.

It made her think of the paralytic they shot her up with when they showed her the Daisy tapes. That helplessness in your own body, that fear.

She told him about seeing her sisters and nephew all killed in front of her in three separate instances. She told him about how her hometown, Elmwood, had near total darkness in the winters and near total sunlight in the summers. She told him about goofy childhood stories with her dumb brothers. She told him about the trellis outside Daisy’s window. She told him about Archer and made a joke about them having a lot in common – they both had the same number of legs. Then she told him about Archer’s cane she made for him. She told him how strong her mom was in spite of everything she faced with her awful husband.

She spoke about the past.

Because they’re all dead and gone, it was safe to say their names.

“My mom was the same way,” he randomly mentioned to her later the next afternoon when Johanna was twitching helplessly from her torture session. “As your dad.”

She knew that, he mentioned something of it in his first Games. Also his ability to lie in the interviews were that of someone who grew up their entire childhood lying and making excuses for bruises and injuries.

When her twitching finally stopped long enough for her to form words, she weakly joked out, “Well, it seems my dad and your mom really trained us for this, huh?”

They both let out broken laughs from each half of the wall.

“Johanna?”

The memory burned through her retinas in literal seconds, and she realizes she’s just gone silent and is fully staring at Beetee.  

“The bombing of District 12,” she evenly states. “Either they showed him all his loved ones burning up or he began hallucinating that way since they showed him the Final Eight interviews for a long time before that. Whatever they kept injecting him with made him super agitated and he’d hallucinate for hours. Like for so long sometimes I’d worry his heart would give out.”

“Did the term hijack ever come up?”

Johanna shrugs, “I don’t know.”

Beetee nods and gives Plutarch a look, “Alright, our closest contacts in there were never close enough to get many details about the torture Peeta endured.” Beetee explains. “Your recounting helped us confirm our theory, and it will provide incredible value to Peeta’s treatment. Thank you, Johanna.”

“Can I be done now?” she exhaustedly asks.

“Just one more matter,” Plutarch pipes up, holding up a finger.

Johanna rolls her eyes, “What now?”

“In addition to providing us intel about Peeta, in this brief conversation you were also able to help us pin down the whereabouts of Ashford Flint and the mentors to Districts 3 and 4,” Plutarch says simply. “You offhandedly said people were tortured in front of you and Peeta. Are there other people that were used like this or do you know the status of certain people?”

“Do I have to do this right now?” She almost moans in agony, because it means looking a truth dead in the face without a fever to cloud her mind.

“Yeah, maybe we should give her a break,” Finnick offers.

“We can, but the fact of the matter is that for the war effort, it is imperative you debrief us on all of that as soon as possible,” Plutarch says. “So we could just get it all over with right now or return tonight to talk about that.”

“Let’s just do it now,” she mumbles.

“Perfect, now can you give us other people used against you or Peeta?” Plutarch asks.

She can feel the walls closing in on her.

“For Peeta, it was both the Avoxes that were assigned to District 12 and Portia. They never killed her though,” Johanna explains. And she wishes it took her longer to say it, because it means she needs to talk about herself. “Uh, they took me to Annie’s room at one point. She was on a different, sterile floor, but I’m assuming she was rescued too.”

Finnick sits up straighter, “Did they do anything to her?”

Johanna mockingly bursts out in laughter, “They never even touched her. All they did to torture her was make her watch our sex tapes from the glory days and by making her just look at me.”

“Okay,” Beetee placatingly says before Johanna can go on a tangent. “If that’s it, we can let you rest.”

Her heart monitor rapidly picks up in speed and volume.

Johanna’s voice is so weak when she adds, “There was someone else.”

“Can you tell us?” Beetee asks when all Johanna does is stare at him.

“Can I have more drugs? Or something?” She whimpers and she feels so pathetic from the tears in her eyes and how Beetee looks at her. He is looking at her like he did after the blood rain, like he somehow knew that Johanna wept over Blight’s corpse despite the sheets of red blood concealing her. She releases a wet noise that may be a cough or sob, “Please.”

“Here,” Finnick lightly says and slowly holds out a remote.

There is a large button in the center and it is connected to her IV tube. She traces it until the printed letters – morphling – register in her mind.

The beeping heart monitor slows and she lets out a shaky sigh. This stuff is insane, she can see why the people from Six got hooked on this. It makes weedling feel like a shitty topical salve compared to this.

Johanna keeps her eyes shut so nobody can see how teary they are as she tries to evenly state, “Virginia Venatrix.”

She audibly gulps and Finnick makes a noise similar to the one Johanna made when Annie was reaped for the Quarter Quell.

“They brought her in at the end,” Johanna thickly mutters. “After I lied about Sylvia. I fed them Sylvia’s name so it would just stop. It got so bad, and she deserved to be killed.”

“I do believe she is dead,” Plutarch pipes up. “Secondary health issues from her age and I’m presuming her torture.”

“Best thing you’ve said to me all day,” Johanna says. But even with the soothing drug in her veins, she can feel her throat closing and her heart monitor increasing again as she continues, “It’s my fault. They only brought her in because they thought I lied about Sylvia to cover for Virginia.”

“Which is technically what you were doing,” Plutarch states, matter of fact.

How can he be so indifferent? Johanna’s eyes snap open and she glares hatefully at him.

“Oh, Johanna, I’m so sorry,” Finnick breathes out.

He gets up and moves to bring his chair closer to her bedside to comfort her.

But she didn’t ever remember him having such a hulking frame and she shrinks back against her bed and holds her bruised hands in front of her face when he gets closer.

It’s automatic and hardwired into her now.

Finnick pulls up short and struggles to hide his shock and growing pain on his face.

The Capitol managed to even make Johanna flinch at her only friend left. The person who has been her confidant for years and would never even think of hurting her.

She just leans back against her pillows and refuses to look at him.

“We need to stop,” Finnick pipes up. “That is plenty.”

“She hasn’t even told us of Virginia’s status,” Plutarch logically rebuttals.

“You guys brought me in so Johanna would have a friend here, I am telling you, we need to stop,” Finnick firmly says.

Their words overlap and she can feel her frail body collapsing in on itself.

It is her fault.

Virginia only became suspicious because of the Sylvia lie. That was enough for them to question her because of her dad’s history. What if that torture and deeper investigation exposes her cover?

What the fuck will they do to her if Virginia is found out?

Make her an Avox? If she was lucky.

No.

“I’m sorry, but given Virginia’s intelligence ranking, it is crucial Johanna fully update us,” Plutarch sternly cuts off the arguing.

“She hadn’t been compromised,” Johanna dully states. “Just some bruises on her, she looked…”

Her fingers tangle in the sheets beside her to try and scrub the image out of her mind.

“They thought because of the Sylvia thing I was covering for Virginia, which yes I guess I was. But they were probing and asking if I knew about her dad or if we ever bonded. I think they were trying to figure out if we were friends or not” Johanna says. “They got mad when I didn’t react to them pulling out blades and slapping her around.”

“Did they harm her?” Plutarch prods.

“No, just intimidation and slapping,” Johanna nonchalantly says. “And don’t worry, her and I both put on the acting performance of a century. Just like you trained into her, Plutarch.”

“That is good, it means her cover could stay intact,” Plutarch says as if her barb went straight over his head. “Which is crucial.”

“Yeah, real great that the last words I ever said to her were some of the vilest and worst things I’ve ever-“

Then a very loud sob rips from her chest and echoes off the barren tile walls. Her freezing body huddles in more on herself as she shakes.

Thankfully she is too dehydrated to cry streams of tears.

“Don’t be hard on yourself, you were doing exactly what you were trained to do,” Beetee says. “Both of you knew that.”

“Yes, if anything it helped her case, strengthened her cover, which she needs anywhere she can get. Because if they found out she was a rebel spy,” Plutarch cuts himself off and shakes his head. For the first time, his expression waivers, blanching pale as he shakes his head, “Well in that case, death would be merciful.”

“How dare you?”

All the morphling in the world can’t reign Johanna in as that out of touch man praises Virginia’s possible demise. She rips her IV out of her elbow, the sound of her heart monitor flatlining sounds as she yanks the wires off her chest so she can properly lunge at Plutarch across the small tray table on her bed.

If she even gets one finger on him, she intends to blind the bastard.

Finnick’s plucking Johanna out of the air like she weighs nothing, and she supposes it probably is. His arm wraps around her midsection to keep her contained.

“I will tear your fucking throat out,” Johanna hisses, glaring harshly into Plutarch’s eyes.

His punch-able face has the gall to appear offended and confused.

“She was the only person I had left and you’re hoping for her to just die while you sit here, hiding and treating everyone like pawns.” Johanna screams, she wriggles an arm free to weakly punch Finnick’s back. It all makes her so winded. It is almost identical to her verbally ripping Katniss to shreds in the arena, except this situation is much more personal and lethal. She’s never hated Katniss as viscerally as she hates Plutarch right now.

Johanna wants to murder him.

“You stole her childhood, and you can’t even be bothered to feel shitty about her cover possibly being blown. But then again why would you? You have had a hand in slaughtering hundreds of children in your arenas, isn’t that right, Plutarch?”

Finnick manages to slam her down to the bed and she wriggles violently and even kicks up at the air, “Finnick let me go, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. If the people in District 13 had half a brain, they’d lock him up and execute him! Capitol scum!”

She can feel herself about to careen over an edge of no return that will likely lead to her sedation. But in her uncaring frenzy, Johanna tries to spit at the vile man but her mouth and lips are too dry.

A door swings open and someone has the sense to yank Plutarch out. The medical team rushes in and Johanna thrashes under Finnick’s grasp on the bed.

“Johanna, please,” Finnick grunts when her fist pounds into his back again. “He’s gone, stop struggling so your team can treat you.”

“How can you not care?” She screams accusingly almost directly in Finnick’s ear. He holds her tighter and it presses their temples together.

“I do care. Johanna, I am so, so sorry,” he murmurs softly.

And all the fight saps out of her immediately. As she goes from pounding on his back to desperately gripping the fabric of his shirt.

It turns into a type of hug as her body slackens, it’s the first welcome touch in weeks. Johanna can’t care about all the eyes on her as she sobs into Finnick’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters again. “Will you let them hook you back up to your IV and monitor?”

She tightens her hold on him, she doesn’t want any of these District 13 freaks to touch her.

“Please, so they don’t have to restrain you,” Finnick pleads.

“Fine,” she grunts, moving to sit still and pretty while they put her IV back in her and put stickers on her bony chest.

Morphling cuts away at some of the overwhelming anger and despair. But her eyes are dully stuck on Finnick moving to the corner of the room to explain to a confused Beetee after shooing out the one District 13 man who has stayed silent the entire time.

Finnick whispers it like the secret it deserved to be, but she is almost certain that Haymitch, her doctors, and Plutarch are probably all listening on the other side of the glass.

It kills her to hear Finnick quickly explain it.

“They are involved,” Finnick dumbs it down, while still trying to protect some of Johanna’s privacy. “Been together for about a year or two.”

“I see,” Beetee says. “We should definitely let her rest now.”

Johanna just grits her jaw and turns her cheek on the pillow to look away from their continued murmuring. She keeps her eyes pinched shut.

“It’s just me now,” Finnick’s voice rings out a few moments later.

Johanna opens her eyes.

Without all the people in her hospital room it looks so much like her cell.

“Can I do anything –“

 “You don’t need to hang around for me. Go be with Annie.”

“She’s asleep, I can stay here a bit longer,” Finnick states.

She can’t help how the words slip from her mouth, a question she knows the answer to that will only hurt her.

“Would you have even been here for me when I woke up if Annie was still awake?”

“Johanna.”

The way he says her name almost feels like an answer in and of itself.

“Whatever Finnick, I know I mean nothing to anyone. Not anymore,” she thickly states. “I’m not stupid enough to think that I was a goal of that rescue operation. I was probably only rescued by some collateral luck since I was next to Peeta’s cell.”

“No, they looked for you, because they even looked for Enobaria while there,” Finnick tries to reassure.

Johanna shakes her head and grips onto the remote of her morphling drip tightly, “I was almost tortured to death but because I’m not insane or a headcase, I’m punished by having to relive that immediately upon waking up. Just like how I woke up fucking invaded from my first Games.”

Finnick just sighs and moves to stand.

“You’ve been through a lot and I’m happy you’re here,” he says.

“Don’t placate me.”

“Don’t project your anger at me and claim you know what I think,” Finnick argues. “Yeah, I was mainly horribly worried about Annie-”

“Wow.”

“Because I had convinced myself you were dead. You knew secrets, you cut Katniss’s tracker out. Ultimately, Peeta and Annie were prisoners to torture me and Katniss, but you were being tortured for information. We both know what the Capitol is capable of, I just couldn’t stomach it. The possibilities. I just wished you were dead, so you weren’t in pain.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean,” he states. “You still being alive and rescued is one of the happiest surprises, okay? I know you have so much pain and if you need to lash out, it only makes sense. But you won’t be able to shoo me off.”

It reminds her too much of Archer after Katherine died.

“If you want to be alone to rest, I’ll leave. But I’ll be back tomorrow,” Finnick continues.

“Fine,” she grumbles.

Finnick nods once, “I’ll talk to some of the people here, see if they can get you anything to keep your hands busy.”

“I whittle to keep my hands busy, they won’t give me a knife,” Johanna weakly states.

Her eyes stay locked on her hands that shake with tremors now, she may not even be capable of whittling anymore because of the damage to her body. The Capitol has even taken that from her.

“I’m sure we could get you into wax carving with plastic utensils,” he offers with a small smile.

“I guess. It beats the quarter deck of cards I had for entertainment in the Capitol.”

It beats it, but not by much.

A few minutes later, Finnick is gone and she is alone in this white tiled room. The echoing of her heart monitor is the only noise. It’s too cold in here and she only has two thin blankets.

It doesn’t feel all that different from her cell in the Capitol in many ways, but at least she isn’t actively dying and in agonizing pain anymore.

Talk about setting the bar low to consider this an upgrade, but what else would you expect after being rescued from the literal pits of hell?

Notes:

The first of many chapters of Johanna verbally ripping District 13 and Plutarch to shreds lol. I'm thinking I'll post chapter 4 within the next day or two since she finally has some decent things happen and receives a bit of a break in that chapter. Which feels very needed after the bummer of these first 3 chapters.

Thanks so much for reading. I also love to hear what you guys thinks and interacting with comments! And huge thanks for any kudos/comments/bookmarks it helps keep me motivated.

Up next in Chapter 4: In her first few days in District 13, Johanna finds herself making a surprising ally on her medical team. And Johanna overhears a conversation of Plutarch's.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Summary:

Johanna makes an unlikely ally and overhears a conversation she wasn't supposed to hear.

TW: PTSD, discussion of torture, growing drug dependency

Johanna settles into a weird schedule in her first few days in District 13.

Most of her day is spent sitting in her hospital room, just relishing at her body not being in pain thanks to the drugs going through her veins. Several doctors badger her with tests and therapy sessions that she is reluctant at best in complying. Honestly, she only answers their questions to mess with them and when certain topics are required to be relayed back for intelligence.

Her medical care is essentially her full-time job in District 13, so much of her day is spent with her team of doctors. And after so many weeks of isolation in her cell with only Peeta’s voice and her small team of torturers to accompany her, it’s like an overbearing crowd that feels incredibly phony.

Finnick drops by to see her several times a day, but he never stays more than five minutes at a time since he usually has to go somewhere or to be with Annie. He didn’t say it, but it felt implied that the sight of Johanna right now would be enough to trigger Annie into something irretrievable so that’s why his visits are so short.  

It only allows her more time to be alone and think.

Virginia’s status is officially unknown beyond her being imprisoned. Haymitch gave Johanna that update a few days after she tried to attack Plutarch.

Hope is lethal, so Johanna knows that despite every part of her wanting to believe that Virginia is still alive, she knows she can’t let herself believe it. If track record proves correct, Virginia is likely already slowly being tortured to death because of Johanna.

Daisy and Virginia become twin tormentors of her nightmares. It’s nightmarish on its own since the pair never coexisted well in Johanna’s mind.

Every night she watches both be tortured and it always ends with her waking up from the pair electrocuting her endlessly to a point that would make her lose her bladder, but since she isn’t being electrocuted it results in her having to race out of the bed without tangling her wires and tubes to make it to the toilet in time.

Finnick’s lightness and joy because of Annie is a new type of torture in this boring prison she lives in. And if she happens to lash out more frequently at him, then so be it.

Maybe Johanna is bitter because he admitted to basically not worrying about Johanna at all in captivity. He just assumed she was dead and only cared about what they could be doing to Annie.

It reminds her how inconsequential she is to one of the last few people she thought she had left. But what kind of person can’t even be bothered to be concerned about their captured, sound-mind friend with rebel secrets being tortured? Sure, Annie is so unstable she even makes Johanna uncomfortable at times – her green eyes are too clear and it is petrifying when she just stares – but Annie was safe, Finnick knew they wouldn’t physically torture her. Unlike Johanna.

The gratingly annoying “Remember, you’re safe here,” statement is said to her by her team countless times a day. And it sounds exactly like someone who is vastly out of touch with reality since they’ve literally spent their entire life in a bunker surrounded by nukes.

These District 13 idiots are exhausting; they don’t understand that safety is an illusion. They never had to have their name put in a bowl every year and await their fate, they’ve never had to face the Hunger Games.

She hates all these hypocritical idiots.

Their safeness means jack shit when she knows her current safeness from said people is only conditional because of Katniss fucking Everdeen. Late on her second day here, after she calmed a bit, Finnick better explained what Plutarch started telling her upon waking – the Mockingjay Act.

The only reason she isn’t in a cell having to relive every second of her torture for the crime of being tortured as a prisoner of war while knowing rebel secrets.

Sounds like some real stand up assholes leading the charge down here. Sounds like the people they’re fighting against aren’t that different than the people running this rabbit den.

Even if Johanna didn’t need Katniss’s protection, it was the least Katniss owed her.  

Johanna survived her torture off spite and hatred alone, but having to sit freshly through that with probably no really nice drugs for her pain, could have even been enough to make Johanna unravel.  

The drugs are the only thing that make her miserable, miserable existence livable.

It feels like she exists in a white tiled coffin. She feels like she is running out of air down here and her homesickness is exacerbated by everything in this bleak underground home of hers.

Despite all the drugs they give her that can barely make her nightmares bearable enough that she can sleep more than four hours a night, she is still a remarkably light sleeper. Often stirring awake at any time the pneumatic door opens when someone comes in to check on her.

Johanna makes the habit of sneaking one eye open to look at whoever is entering. If it is the face of some of her nursing staff and head doctors, she goes out of her way to fuck with them. She has found the funniest method to mess with them is just opening her eyes and flatly saying, “Boo,” when they are standing by her bed to check her vitals.

It is honestly hysterical that it still sends those losers darting to the other side of the room.

Despite District 13’s rebellion and “welcoming” nature to the refugees, these citizens still view her the same way the Capitol did. They judge her for the fact that she won her games on deception and violence, and they see her as this loose cannon that is a brute willing to kill anyone. Not the desperate seventeen-year-old girl who only had herself to rely on while fighting so hard to survive for a family that would ultimately all end up dead.

So, she gives them what they want and she amps up that lethal persona just for them. If they want to fear Johanna, she will give them something to fear.

This morning when the sound of the door awakens her, it rips her from a nightmare that was a deafening cacophony of Peeta’s screaming while Johanna was forced to watch her sister die repeatedly. Feeling so dull from watching Katherine’s brains, Johanna has little energy to mess with whoever is coming in to check on her.

In fact, if she had any more strength in her abdomen and back, she’d probably bolt upright as she awakens. Her own heart monitor is going crazy, and the blonde woman boldly pads her way over to silence it.  

It's surprising seeing someone in the gray scrubs approach her so boldly. 

The blonde woman’s entire face is familiar and the lines of worry aging her show this woman is not from District 13. This woman has clearly lived a hard life, nobody that lives in this coffin wears so much trauma on their face. As her eyes catch hers, the woman offers a soft smile. Johanna tries to place her for a second, but her eyes are still incredibly blurry.

Johanna squints at the hospital ID clipped onto the woman’s scrubs. She can’t even suppress the groan that rips from her throat when the letters on the ID blur less and she reads the name Asterid Everdeen.

“Hello, Johanna,” Katniss Everdeen’s fucking mom casually greets as she changes out Johanna’s IV bag for a new one. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like shit, everything hurts, nothing new,” her throat grumbles and her mouth sticks with a nasty dryness of awaking from sleep. Johanna watches wearily as Katniss’s mom continues recording her vitals, “Um, isn’t this like a conflict of interest or something?”

“What do you mean?”

She is so soft spoken it’s honestly a bit surprising to realize she is the mother of the teenager who has clips of her screaming at the president replaying on the televisions all day.

“Your daughter,” Johanna states obviously. “I almost killed her.”

Mrs. Everdeen takes the stethoscope hanging on her neck and puts the earpieces in her ears, she holds out the cold metal of the instrument in the air, motioning for Johanna to sit forward. She huffs in annoyance and complies. The cold metal stings on her bare skin, but everything in this room is so cold and dank. Maybe she should ask for another blanket.

“Johanna, if you are worried about my oath as a healer, you need not to. I am here to help you,” Mrs. Everdeen states as she drapes the stethoscope on her neck and scribbles down something quick on the clipboard. She gives Johanna a very gentle expression, “I know you and my daughter have had your differences, but I don’t hold any ill will towards you if that is what you’re implying could be a conflict of interest. If anything, I would like to thank you for your part in getting my daughter out of that arena alive.”

Unlike when most others mention protecting the Mockingjay at all costs, this doesn’t alight a rage inside of her.

This is justified.

Sometimes Johanna forgets that Katniss is still a teenager. She’s already been in the arena twice and she’s now only the age Johanna was when she was initially reaped all those years ago. This isn’t some massive political game of protecting a teenager they’re putting the fate of the rebellion on.

This is just a mother who has had to live through the unlivable of sending her daughter off to a death arena twice.

And honestly, if Johanna had to guess out of all the tributes from the third Quarter Quell, Katniss and Peeta were probably the only ones who had parents alive to watch it.

“That’s an overly nice way of describing giving her a concussion and almost making her bleed out,” Johanna scoffs.

She’s heard from Finnick how bad the injuries she gave Katniss were. And while that little girl is a thorn in Johanna’s side that she easily would’ve killed in the arena if she were allowed to, Johanna cannot forget the infuriating haze of disorienting exhaustion and anger that clouded her own world after she sustained her own severe concussion from her final confrontation with Ivy in her first Games. It doesn’t make her regret hitting Katniss so hard in the head, but she remembers how shitty a feeling it is.  

“You know, when I got to District 13 and Katniss was recovering, they showed me what the trackers they inject in your arm look like,” Mrs. Everdeen begins, and Johanna immediately understands why this woman who is a healer is being gentle and understanding towards Johanna almost fatally wounding Katniss. “The tracker deploys dozens of hooks into the muscle upon injection and is designed to wound arteries and veins if forcibly removed.”

“No offense, doc, but I know,” Johanna drawls impatiently. “They made me read so many boring anatomy books for months in preparation. Practiced for hundreds of hours on fucking pig flesh under about a million different conditions. And I still almost forgot all of it when it came down to removing it.”

“But you didn’t,” Mrs. Everdeen clarifies. “Those trackers require precise surgical removal to not cause secondary injury. You had to do it in a dark jungle with a hunting knife while being chased down. From what they told me, if the night went to plan, you were supposed to be able to remove the tracker from her arm in a much less rushed capacity, so I don’t fault you.”

“If you’re here to assuage any guilt I have over almost killing Katniss, you’re wasting your time, because I don’t feel bad about it at all,” Johanna responds and rolls her eyes.

“You brought it up.”

Johanna scoffs and crosses her arms, “Yeah, because for some reason they decided to make the Mockingjay’s mommy part of my medical team.”

“I know my presence may be upsetting-“

Johanna meanly chuckles, “You think?”

She glares at the tile wall – they finally moved her from the private hospital room that was basically a cell with the fake mirror and that locked from the outside. She is beyond thankful she can stare at white tile rather than her own reflection all day.

“Part of the reason the Capitol has been so soft on your daughter with punishment is because I was their learning curve. Before her games, I was all everyone talked about and let me tell you something, your daughter never would have survived what they put me through. And after all of it, they still took everything from me. So yeah, seeing your fucking face after I was almost tortured to death for the plot to bust her out of the arena is a kick to the damn teeth.”

Silence envelopes them, but Johanna doesn’t rip her eyes away from the wall. Righteous annoyance and anger keep her running her mouth, finding the most energy she’s had in weeks.

“I have literally nobody left. Snow killed everyone I love. Do you know how big my family was? I had four siblings. Four! Not a hair has ever been touched on your perfect Prim’s head, but my nephew who was half Prim’s age was murdered by a Peacekeeper. I had friends. I had my own versions of Peeta and the hot cousin, they’re all dead. And my mom-“

In her fury, she has whipped her head to glare into unflinching eyes. It makes a sob tear from her throat and almost sounds like a scream.

And then Johanna hits a new level of rock bottom for embarrassment.

Because the energy sucks out of her and she emptily whimpers, “I want my mom.”

Johanna sounds like she’s seventeen again.

(She’s a tortured husk so she’s too weak to hide any of this embarrassing garbage).

The reminder of how cruelly her mother was taken for her is what is killing her right now as Katniss’s mom stands here, empathetic and alive after surviving her entire district being burned to the ground.

“Would you like to talk about her?”

“Why would I want to talk to you of all people about that?”

“Well, that is in part why I am on a rotation as one of your nurses now,” Mrs. Everdeen explains. “You’ve been unreceptive to your mental health team, in large part because you feel their lack of firsthand experience to the Capitol’s cruelty makes them unfit to understand you and treat you.”

“So, they thought bringing the Mockingjay’s mother would be the best alternative?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell you what it feels like, it feels like you, your daughter, and this stupid district are just mocking me. Reminding me that she still has you and I never even got to enjoy anytime with my mom after I won.”

“Well, there aren’t many options down here for medical staff that isn’t a District 13 native,” Mrs. Everdeen explains. “There are some rebel doctors from the Capitol, but given your recent imprisonment, it was decided that wouldn’t be ideal for you either. That only really leaves any healers from other Districts that are currently here, which only leaves Prim and me.”

“Then get Prim,” Johanna demands.

“She’s not allowed to be alone with you,” Mrs. Everdeen softly whispers as if it is a shameful secret, maybe because she doesn’t agree with this bullshit as she points at Johanna’s hospital bracelet. “Combative to medical staff means a trainee can’t be alone, I’m sorry, Johanna.”

“Everyone here is so quick to judge what I did to survive while they hid like cowards. I’ve literally never done anything to gain that warning. The only people I have been aggressive with were Haymitch and Plutarch who absolutely deserved it. Yet the staff smacked that label on me because the idiots think they can wake me up without it making me come up swinging,” Johanna grumbles. “You are probably the same too, I bet you make that final call on Prim and think I’m some heartless killer.”

“Johanna, I’ve had to watch my daughter in two Hunger Games. I know what you do in that arena is all self-defense. You were just surviving. I don’t think you’re a heartless killer, I think you’ve been through unspeakable loss and have been treated with cruelty for years and you’re righteously angry,” Mrs. Everdeen states.

It makes Johanna do a double take that she isn’t leaving after Johanna’s volatility. She can see where Katniss gets the stubbornness from.

“You’ve never had the chance to grieve, Johanna. I know you think your medical team doesn’t get it, but they care and so do I.”

“So, they thought I’d open up more to you than the head doctors?”

“That but also, I can empathize with your experience in a more effective way from personal experience,” Mrs. Everdeen simply states.

Johanna huffs and slumps back against the mattress, “Fine, then get me a blanket.”

It’s the first thing she’s asked for besides food or drugs for the pain.

---

It seems Mrs. Everdeen is a permanent fixture in her medical team.

Much to Johanna’s dismay.

Her own resolve to keep up the silent treatment when she is objectively a person who loves to run her mouth is impossible. (Especially after existing in three months of having to filter her every word trying to be ripped out of her). It’s like she has months’ worths of rants she has to make up for.

But she resists the urge and the next two days Mrs. Everdeen comes to check on Johanna, she pretends to be asleep and only mutters one-word answers.

This morning, Johanna’s stomach is grumbling and painfully splitting itself apart with hunger. The pangs of hunger are cruel reminders of the starvation she faced in custody. Johanna claws at the sheets beneath her to remember that she is no longer in that cell in the Capitol.

The hunger somewhat ends her silent treatment with Katniss’s mom. When the woman walks in pushing a cart, Johanna sits up and locks eyes.

“Can I have food? I didn’t get breakfast,” Johanna asks.

Mrs. Everdeen heaves a sigh and stops next to her, “No, I’m sorry. You have surgery this afternoon, you aren’t allowed to eat or drink before then.”

“Surgery for what?” Johanna exhaustedly asks. Even dulling her pain with morphling doesn’t take away from the weeks of Johanna’s body being one indistinguishable blob of agony. She could be getting surgery for internal bleeding or a broken bone and Johanna wouldn’t even be surprised.

“Debridement and changing the wound vacuum on your back.”

The angry wound burns with the mention. It makes Johanna’s mind swirl with the memories of that wound that came to be. The whip that caused the initial wound that was then constantly reopened through various methods whenever shocking Johanna seemed to bore her torturers.

“Ugh, when is it?”

“At two,” Mrs. Everdeen looks down at her watch, and back at Johanna. “The surgery is relatively quick, and we can get you food as soon as you wake up.”

“Are you helping with the surgery?” Johanna asks. She won’t admit it, but the idea of being put under at the mercy of a bunch of District 13 doctors is nauseating. Despite her mixed feelings about Katniss and her mom, she will at least feel a little better with someone who isn’t one of those idiots operating on her.

“Yes, I take it nobody has updated you on the surgery?”

“If they did, I wasn’t listening,” she shrugs.

Mrs. Everdeen gives her a small smile and strides over to the opposite side of the room. She sifts through a manilla envelope and tucks the black x-ray against the light box she clicks on. Her hands start circling in the air of the chest x-ray to indicate more about the procedure. But Johanna immediately stops listening and glares down at her lap when she sees the obvious sight of her implants in that x-ray.

“Johanna?”

The concern is evident in her tone.

Johanna just grits her jaw and stares at the white scratchy blanket covering her.

“Do you not want me to explain the procedure?” Mrs. Everdeen asks softly.

“Not if I have to look at that,” her voice is strained. She only looks up when she hears the soft click of the light box.

“That’s fine, we don’t need the x-ray,” Mrs. Everdeen answers as she returns to Johanna’s side. She begins swapping out some the IV bags. “The point of the surgery is to ensure the infection in your wound doesn’t spread to your lungs.”

Internally, she wishes the implants were infected so they could be removed from her. Johanna just nods. She hopes they’ll exist in stony silence as the nurse continues her work, but upon hearing a throat cleared, Johanna looks up into clear blue eyes.

“Did you not want to see the x-ray, because-“

Johanna cuts her off quickly, she has no desire to hear the question, “Yeah. Don’t need a reminder when they’re always there.”

“They weren’t your choice, I take it,” she calmly states.

“Right after the games. I remember hearing they almost did the same to your daughter after hers.”

“Yes, Haymitch told me a while ago.”

“My mentor was beaten to a pulp for trying to stop them the same way Haymitch did,” Johanna glares at her lap, unsure why she’s letting herself blab about this. She blames the weakness and hunger. “I bet they didn’t do it to Katniss, because they learned their lesson with me. I was never going to be a good little complacent victor when they invaded me like that.”

Mrs. Everdeen is quiet, her eyes flick from Johanna to a chart that she is flipping through. Her voice is soft when she speaks again, “Do you think the presence of the implants is keeping you from healing?”

Johanna chuckles dryly, she sounds so empty, “Duh.”

“How would you feel if they were ever removed?”

Johanna’s eyes snap back in surprise. It’s all she has wanted for years. She will always feel the lingering effects of panicked invasion that roiled inside her the first time she awoke to the implants crushing her chest. The way she immediately screamed to get the foreign things out of her to only be sedated for her anger.

“Like my body is mine again,” the words fall easily and too sincerely off her lips.

It makes Johanna nearly gag at herself and close off. She crosses her arms and refuses any further interaction.  Mrs. Everdeen doesn’t further push the subject.

The reminder of her gnawing hunger makes the time leading up to the surgery tick by. But after she’s prepped for surgery, a group of people in scrubs wheel her down a sterile hallway. She ignores the pang of comfort she feels when Mrs. Everdeen squeezes Johanna’s hand as the doctor puts the mask over her face that yanks her down into the paralyzing black world of anesthesia.

---

The first thing Johanna can register upon waking is her hunger that’s been eating at her all day. She heaves in a sigh as she blinks her eyes open. And that’s when she notices the second thing, a distinct absence.

The familiar crushing weight on her chest —the one she’d carried for years, making every breath a punishment—is gone. Johanna inhales slowly, carefully, half-expecting the pressure to return. But it doesn’t.

Wait-

Instinctively, she tugs at the neck of her hospital gown to glare beneath. Cathartic waves of oxygen burn from her lungs at one of the best things she’s ever seen – white bandages wrapped tightly around her noticeably smaller chest.

With wet eyes, Johanna’s mind lags. She’s gaping down at herself and hovers her hand above the bandages. The soreness of her surgical wounds make the skin pulse just by hovering so closely. But she can’t believe her eyes. It’s too good.

Good things don’t happen to Johanna.

Closing her eyes again and trying to brush out the fog in her head, she blinks her eyes open again to check if she’s hallucinating.

She’s still greeted with the image of bandages.

Her chest is empty.

No, not empty. It’s finally hers again.

A familiar warm voice rings out from the chair beside her bed, “Don’t touch your bandages.”

Johanna looks over at Finnick. Her wide brown eyes are poorly concealing the wetness accumulating in them. Where she usually would have a perfect response to display her razor sharp wit, Johanna just gawks.

Some weird light chuckling noise she’s never made falls from her lips. Johanna shakes her head at herself a few times, her eyes shedding hot tears. The lightness on her chest isn’t just literal, but she finally feels like Snow’s claws have been removed from how deeply they were surgically sunk in her. And with that lightness, Johanna doesn’t know how she ever survived a day with those things invading her body. 

“They removed them?” Johanna asks as if this is a shocking good dream.

Finnick’s bright grin is contagious, and he nods, “Yeah. It’s a few years late, but at least they’re finally out.”

“I gave up on ever being able to have them removed years ago,” she distractedly murmurs. Her own hands hover above her sore chest. “Wow.”

“You can admire your new boobs later, you’ve got to be starving,” Finnick jokes lightly. “Surgery took twice as long to remove them.”

She appreciates his humor cutting through the moment. Johanna is feeling too many sincere feelings of comfort in her body and happiness that is almost uncomfortable to face.

“They’re the new old model,” Johanna jokes with widened eyes.

Finnick’s contagious laugh is like a pain medication of its own, “And talk about an upgrade.” He scoots in closer and reaches for the tray resting on the nearby table.

“Nope,” Finnick chirps and plucks the bowl of soup into his grasp before Johanna can reach for it. “They only let me visit if I agreed to feed you while here.”

“I am not a baby. I can feed myself,” Johanna rolls her eyes.

“They don’t want you popping any stitches. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Johanna chuckles, “Fine, feed me then, Odair.”

“Just don’t bite,” Finnick teases with a wink as he raises a spoon up to her lips.

---

The next morning after a restful sleep, Johanna is pleasantly reminded that the implants are gone with a cursory check down her gown.

Spinning her hospital bracelet on her thin wrist, Johanna finds herself marinating in something foreign.

She can’t decipher what she is feeling until the door opens about half an hour later and Mrs. Everdeen enters with Johanna’s breakfast and a cart of medications and IV bags.

A visceral (annoying) sob rips from Johanna’s light chest as realization hits her.

Johanna has been seen and heard by someone. And she was treated with kindness that she thought was long extinct. The weight she’s had to carry of it all since she first awoke outside of the arena is gone.

Someone went to bat for her in the same way Archer, Ashford, and Blight all did. And this time it worked. She didn’t think she mattered enough for anyone to do that anymore.

“Thank you,” Johanna tersely mutters to suppress an awful sob.

Mrs. Everdeen gives her a small nod, “How are you feeling, Johanna?”

A wet, unsteady smile covers Johanna’s mouth as she laughs in continued shock, “Lightest I have in years.”

“Good.”

The nurse scribbles down something on the chart. She sets a tray table with a breakfast of plain oatmeal and a banana on Johanna’s lap. Johanna grabs the napkin on the plate and wipes at the burning wet tears on her face. Sipping some water, she tries to quickly recompose herself.

“How’d you manage to convince them?” Johanna muses while opening her banana peel. “That had to be a waste plenty of their precious resources.”

Mrs. Everdeen gives a non-committal hum, “After we spoke yesterday, it was clear that surgery to remove the implants was not a waste, but a necessity.”

“Maybe to you, but that’s because you get it.” Johanna chews. “These poser doctors here don’t get it though. Nothing of me is of necessity to them anymore.”

Johanna briefly thinks back to a few days ago. She was chewed out for losing the wax block they gave her for whittling. District 13 wasted nothing, and they made sure to be huge dicks about it. Especially about someone as inconsequential as Johanna.

“The augmentation was a nonconsenting procedure associated with the trauma of your games and being sold. Once I spoke with your mental health team, they made it clear to the surgeons that taking out the implants was as imperative to your survival as that debridement of your wound was to stop infection from spreading,” her voice has some forced nonchalance to it. Something tells Johanna it wasn’t quite that easy for Mrs. Everdeen to sway the doctors’ opinions. “Since supplies and medications were already being used for your surgery, it wasn’t much of a dip into additional resources to also remove the implants while you were under.”

She appreciates the overly clinical way Mrs. Everdeen is playing it off. Johanna doesn’t like dealing with big emotions like this. It’s already humiliating enough that she blubbered like a baby a few moments ago.

Johanna busies herself finishing the bland breakfast. The boring mushy oatmeal makes her long for her home. She never knew she could miss the taste of maple syrup so much. If she had it this wouldn’t feel like chomping on a dry napkin.  Despite it being a delicacy in other districts, since maple syrup comes from District 7 even the poorest have it in their home. It can make the nastiest, saddest meals feel warm and flavorsome.

Pushing her empty tray of food away, she acts like the perfect little patient for Mrs. Everdeen. She silently complies and follows the instructions as her bandages are changed and her wounds are cleaned. Johanna only hisses out a couple of curse words when the wet sponge first rubs at the adhesive on Johanna’s back.

Click. Johanna aggressively jams her thumb down on the button for her morphling drip.

It’s immediate relief flooding her veins. She’s able to sit still the entire process of the sponge bath and rebandaging. Johanna even stops noticing the sensation of water halfway through when Mrs. Everdeen begins talking to her.

“Prim will be rotating with your medical team soon.”

The announcement slices through some of the haze clouding Johanna’s skull. Continuing to dig painfully into the gaping wound of Johanna’s chest, is more unexpected kindness. It shouldn’t make her feel so touched that someone is seeing her as more than a bloodthirsty killer, but it does. A person can only be so bulletproof.

And then Johanna is already slurring out an overly honest response.

“You know, I’d probably be less of a nuisance if one of my head doctors treated me like you did. You know, like a person and not a ticking bomb.”

“Healers are not made, they’re born,” Mrs. Everdeen softly hums as if it is a phrase she’s said millions of times before. “Some of your team is lacking empathy, yes.”

“So, is that you admitting that you are definitely downplaying how hard it was for you to convince them to remove my implants?” Johanna challenges with the raise of an eyebrow.

Securing the bandage on her chest, she helps pull Johanna’s gown back on and ties it. Johanna suspects it may be so the other woman can hide her face.

“What matters is they are out now,” she resolutely announces while tossing the old gauze into the biohazard bin.

“Fair enough, Mrs. Everdeen,” Johanna says with a nod.

“You can call me Asterid,” she responds simply.

“Alright, Asterid.”

And just like that, her first kinda ally she makes in District 13, by some twisted ironic joke, is Katniss Everdeen’s mom.

---

After a few days of letting Johanna settle in and addressing her more urgent injuries, she is given a schedule with her breakfast.

She has a meeting with Plutarch in Command at eleven.

It’s a testament to how fucking bored she is here that she leaves early. For a meeting with Plutarch.

All she had to occupy herself this morning was getting the rapid-healing stitches removed from her chest and the wound on her back, which then resulted in another humiliating sponge bath.

But even after she calmed down from that, she only had the white walls to keep her busy for hours.

And boredom only makes all her pain worse.

Johanna shivers in the barren and cold hallways as she meanders around. Testing any door she can, out of sheer boredom. She finds a narrow hallway of pipes that cuts quickly in the direction she needs to go. Johanna doesn’t mind walking through the cobwebs, the cold isolation between the hissing pipes feels more fitting than the gawking stares people from here send her.

She stares down at the silky web of the last spider’s home she destroyed on her gray pants.

Everything here is so bleak and boring.

Voices carry from a nearby vent and, naturally, she pauses to eavesdrop. Eager for any entertainment.  

“-bring in her medical team on this. Get their opinion.”

It’s Haymitch’s voice, last she heard Katniss just went to District 2 less than a week ago, so she sticks around out of curiosity. Maybe something went down in Two.

“She’s a victor who’s been manipulated and not offered a choice for years, we don’t get to make this decision for her,” Beetee adds. “Withholding this information from her would be choosing for her.”

That makes Johanna pause harder, because Katniss hasn’t been a victor for years.

But Johanna has.

And the only other girl victor here is Annie, but the description doesn’t fit her.

“I understand, but we need to think about this logically. We saw how noncompliant, unfunctional, and mentally anguished Katniss and Finnick when they were in this situation,” Plutarch calmly counters as if he’s already made up his mind about whatever both are arguing with him about.

“Mentally anguished is putting it nicely. We basically had to sedate Katniss every forty-eight hours,” Plutarch’s awful assistant clucks in her affected voice. “And think about how Katniss is compared to Johanna in everything – we’d have a combative, unstable wildcard.”

“That is not a fair assessment,” Beetee’s voice tersely cuts off the annoyingly affected prattling. “Your concerns of her being defiant and combative are a result of how she’s been manipulated. Withholding this information will only make it worse.”

“She’s an adult, she deserves to know,” Haymitch grunts. “It’s basic decency.”

“It’s hope. And I would’ve thought you of all people would know it’d be cruel to give someone in her position such hope,” Plutarch responds.

Through the echoing pipes she can hear Haymitch grinding his jaw and refraining from swinging at the man, “I was Johanna until Katniss and Peeta came along. I know what that isolation is like. Yes, false hope would mean her grieving twice, but…it’s Johanna. Hope isn’t really in her emotional range.”

Johanna’s legs buckle and she slumps against the wall.

False hope.

It feels like it only means one thing.

Virginia.

The way her heart jilts and jumps around she almost expects loud beeping to echo in the corridor.

“If we want to be straight-forward then I will be candid, telling Johanna that Virginia is alive and in custody will make her an active liability. Her entire issue with Katniss is she’s never been treated equally to her. How do you think she will take it when we tell her that her girl is alive, but we won’t do a special rescue mission for her?” Plutarch replies.

“If you explain the war logistics behind it, I think she’d understand.” Beetee states. “She’s quick tempered but isn’t unreasonable. Their relationship was a secret so Virginia wouldn’t be tortured and used against her the same way Peeta and Annie were used.” Beetee states, “Also, Virginia is highly trained – that includes torture. She knows how to endure it. It’s all a very different situation.”

“All we’d really need to say is the truth – that a rescue operation for Virginia could ultimately cause more harm than good and it endangers her more than waiting out the war,” Haymitch adds. “Right Plutarch? If her cover isn’t blown and she’s alive in custody, it could be a waiting game. Why are you so insistent it would be false hope?” Haymitch challenges.

“I’m a realist.”

“No, it’s more than that. You are biased for some other reason. If you really wanted to hear the peanut gallery about what may be best for Johanna, Finnick would be here. The fact that you didn’t invite him tells me you aren’t telling us everything,” Haymitch angrily challenges.

“Her cover isn’t blown, but she isn’t just in custody either. She is considered a low priority prisoner, meaning she is enduring light-spaced out torture and likely starvation. No other escort has been tortured, I heard today it is because one person has named Virginia. That’s what started it. Based on her dad’s history, it was enough for them to take it further.”

“So it wasn’t because of Johanna’s lie?” Haymitch responds.

“No, Johanna’s lie just had bad timing that helped them double their suspicion. The person who named her was an ex – Isolde, a very talented Gamemaker – and they initially brushed it off as a scorned ex,” Plutarch explains.

Isolde.

That heinous bitch.

“But it synced up with when they figured out Johanna lied when giving her stylist’s name. And Isolde alluded to a possible friendship between Johanna and Virginia,” Plutarch states. “My source thinks that how Johanna reacted when they brought Virginia into her cell may have actually helped Virginia’s case.”

It wasn’t Johanna’s fault.

There is no way something that good could happen to her at this point, but the idea of her genuinely helping keep Virginia safe in the slightest amount feels as magnificent as morphling does.

“All the more reason to tell her,” Beetee says.

“Also, yes I didn’t invite Finnick. But you’ll also notice that nobody from Thirteen was invited. This is also for Virginia’s best chances if she survives this whole thing.”

“How would it-“ Haymitch begins with a dismissive scoff.

“Spy or not, she will likely be tried for her crimes as an escort. There’s no spy rule book that will protect her,” Plutarch says with the smallest bit of unevenness in his usual tone. “If their relationship is made aware to the tribunal, anything associated with Johanna will be linked back to Virginia.”

“You should like that, Plutarch. It’d make it easier for you to control Johanna into behaving,” Haymitch gits out.  

Plutarch impatiently huffs and explains, “I’ve known the girl for half her life and she’s tough as nails, she can handle what they’ll throw at her. So when the day comes I will do anything it takes to help her case. And this is a part of that, I have easily determined that Johanna is a liability. Do we really want her blaming herself for yet another loved ones death?”

“You’re a dick, Plutarch,” Haymitch tiredly says and his chair scraping against the floor echoes through the pipes.

The voices overlap each other and it turns to a steady buzzing noise in Johanna’s skull.

Her hand covers her nose and mouth to stifle down some form of a sob.

A sob of relief and horror.

Alive.

Virginia is alive.

And being tortured with no end in sight.

And Johanna isn’t a prisoner in the Capitol anymore, but she realizes the white walled prison she lives in now. All these people are making decisions for her like she isn’t a person. Her actions are being watched. Anything damning will be used against not only her, but Virginia too.

Just like the Capitol, it is all some other game of political ploys.

Just another surveillance state with more drab grays and no natural sunlight.

She plugs her ears and begins hitting her head on the pipe behind her.

Her mind feels like a bucket sloshing water around and spilling out the sides as she tries to process thoughts. And much like her new aversion to water, these thoughts are visceral as if water is melting across her brain and body.

An uncontrollable tremor runs through her like she is about to be shocked.

But this is her new torture just wondering.

Was Plutarch right in some fucked up way? Is Johanna too damaged, weak, and alone to handle false hope like this?

Usually she’d say no, but at the moment it feels like the pain pressing in on her ribs may make her insides explode into jagged shrapnel.

The growing pain in her body is what makes her move again. Her knees crack when she stands and her hands shake uncontrollably. She has no clue how long she just sat here, surely she missed her meeting but she doesn’t care.

The pain in her body makes her eager to return back to her cell that isn’t a cell so they can hook her IV port to a new morphling bag. She knows the stuff will also smother any thought of Virginia, what they may be doing to her, if she is being discovered.

But as she stumbles out of the hallway, she isn’t beelining back to her hospital room for the drug.

Instead, she is murmuring the same room number under her breath and wandering around the halls. She has an elevator ride with an annoying District 13 family that tries to put as much physical distance between themselves and her. Once she steps off the elevator and sees identical gray doors, she runs for the first time since that night in the arena.

Johanna grows winded almost instantly but pushes through it. The knot in her side and her closing throat allows her to focus on something other than this growing panic and slipping control she has.

She practically body slams the door before urgently knocking.

It swings open after about fifteen seconds.

Finnick has a bright smile as he opens the door that immediately drops at the sight of Johanna panting, paler than usual, and haunted.

But her eyes immediately lock behind Finnick, where Annie is sitting crossed legged on the bed with her own smile that is almost delirious with how dreamy and happy it is.

Finnick starts forming the first syllable of Johanna’s name and something sour settles inside her.

She can’t. She can’t tell him, not when Johanna feels this alone. She doesn’t have Finnick anymore, not like she used to. Now she has to share him while in the same vicinity as Annie, and Annie being around has shown how much Johanna is a secondary character in Finnick’s life. Hell she may even be a tertiary character in his life.

She feels pathetic for thinking he was her best friend.

“Never mind,” Johanna chokes out and turns to run away.

He hollers after her but doesn’t chase her. Why would he? He has Annie. Johanna doesn’t really matter.

No, the only person Johanna matters to is being tortured and will probably die.

Not only will she die but it will be Johanna’s fault, just like it was for everyone else she loved.

---

It’s Prim who finds her.

Johanna is sitting against the door of one of the medical supply rooms that she knows has medications in it. It’s not like she stopped there since she was thirsting for morphling. It was because in her panic, she got lost in the halls of the hospital.

And it’s easy when panicked to find these underground white walls overlap and mix with the white tiled walls she was chained to in the deep levels of the building of the Tribute Center where they tortured her.

Dried blood is caked beneath her fingernails. The scabs on her skull have been scratched raw at some point and streams of blood have trickled and stained her skull, neck, and the shoulders of her awful gray hospital gown.

Her side pinches and wheezes with uneven breaths.

“Johanna, just try to follow my breathing okay,” Prim softly says.

She thinks it’s the second or third time she’s said it. She keeps saying stuff like that while coming closer to crouch beside her. Prim doesn’t touch her or get too close, she just waits a few moments and keeps guiding her breathing.

“Don’t tell me,” Johanna wheezes unevenly, “you’re scared of me too like all these Thirteen idiots.”

Prim smiles softly, “Of course not.”

Something tells Johanna several medical staff saw her breakdown and probably just left her or paged Asterid who may have sent Prim.

“That’s good,” Prim says after Johanna’s breathing evens a bit. “Do you want to tell me what happened or help going back to your room?”

“Got lost,” Johanna grunts and pushes up to her feet.

“I’ll show you the way back then.”

Prim doesn’t press her for details or to talk. She just leads Johanna back to her room, disinfects all the scabs Johanna scratched raw on her skull, and connects her back to her morphling drip.

“Do you need anything?” she asks gently.

Johanna just shakes her head and glares down into her lap.

The morphling cuts away at a lot of the horrifying trapped feeling she has. She’s still being manipulated and disposable, everyone is still making decisions for her.

And she comes to a conclusion that she can’t trust anybody, not if it is going to somehow damn Virginia.

Virginia.

A horrible, awful, selfish, and evil part of Johanna desperately hopes she stays alive and survives this entire war.

If Johanna actually loved her, or her own twisted version of it, she’d be decent enough to wish Virginia to be dead.

What did Plutarch say? She’s a low priority prisoner?

Shouldn’t she be strong enough to survive that from her awful training? Yes, right?

That’s the fact that Johanna repeats to herself, she knows Virginia. And she knows she is strong enough to endure it, but that won’t guarantee her survival.

But a low priority prisoner probably means a low priority to feed.

Virginia is probably going to starve to death. If she’s lucky.

Johanna hears her heart monitor begin to skyrocket. Her hand shakes and reaches out for the button for her morphling drip, jamming her thumb into it.

The rush of warm high that dulls all her physical pain dulls down the agony in her brain. The drugs in her veins are the only thing that keep her from shedding scorching tears on her face.

Tears that would feel like acid on her skin.

Because the Capitol managed to destroy something as essential to survival as water for Johanna.

If this morphling didn’t numb out her skull, all of it would make her break to pieces to probably never return.

She is back in another underground prison that is for certain. But at least this prison has drugs, so Johanna will survive.

She always does.

Notes:

Asterid Everdeen, the woman that you are !!!!

Pretty much from the get go when i planned in this trilogy that Johanna was altered without her consent i was like ooh i bet Mrs. Everdeen (at the time we did not know her first name yet lol) could be the one to finally help her get them out in District 13. I always figured that she had spent time around Johanna based on the fact that in canon she agrees to keep an eye on Katniss and Johana when they room together. Like Johanna outwardly despised Katniss and almost killed her, i figured Asterid would have spent enough time around Johanna to trust her.

Virginia's alive, Plutarch's a dick, what's new?

Thanks for reading!! I always love to hear what you think! I live for your comments/kudos/bookmarks, it keeps me going!

Up next in chapter 5: Johanna settles into a routine of lashing out at everything and dulling the pain with morphling. In hopes to correct some of Peeta's memories from his conditioning, Johanna is encouraged to visit him.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Summary:

Johanna only survives her new prison because of the morphling. She pays Peeta a visit and lashes out at Finnick.

TW: addiction, PTSD

“I never would’ve expected you to be ticklish,” Johanna teased as her fingertips lightly traced Virginia’s tricep.

Virginia melodramatically huffed while flopping her head on the pillow to press her cheek into the fabric to glare at Johanna, “Maybe, I’m just cold. Have you considered that?”

“Ah so you are wriggling around because of this warm spring breeze?” Johanna asked. Her fingers more boldly trace the outline of an inked trio of forget-me-nots, “And not this?”

A free and uninhibited laugh filled the cabin. It was the first time Johanna had genuinely heard Virginia laugh so boisterously like that since the Quell announcement. She yanked her elbow into her side while squirming away from Johanna’s grasp.

“It’s like you’re almost touching my damn armpit,” she grumpily muttered.

“Still, would’ve expected you to be tickle-proof or something,” Johanna joked.

“I am,” Virginia simply stated.

“Sure, you’re almost throwing yourself off the bed from me barely touching your arm because you aren’t ticklish.”

“Well, I can disconnect when needed like they taught me. It would make me tickle-proof.”

“So you’re reacting because you aren’t disconnecting?” Johanna asked mischievously.

“Exactly. I don’t want to ever be disconnected from my body when I am around you,” Virginia earnestly said with a grin so wide it automatically made Johanna roll her eyes.

“Because of all the good things I can do to it,” Johanna flirted while waggling her eyebrows ridiculously.

“I mean, it’s an added bonus,” Virginia hummed. She turned from her prone position to rest on her side and face Johanna, one of her hands reached out and traced the back of Johanna’s knuckles. “But you know what I mean. You make me feel so much, I just want to feel every bit of it.”

“Especially with whatever little time we have left,” Johanna bleakly joked and it managed to immediately vacuum out the airy mood in the room to something much more solemn.

But Virginia just shut her eyes for a few moments and when she blinked them open watery golden hazel prominently contrast from the red spiderwebs decorating the whites of her eyes. She looked at Johanna with open adoration for a few beats before the hand tracing Johanna’s moved up to grab her chin and pull her in for a soft kiss.

“We’ve just got to absorb every second for what it is worth.”

The words are muttered sweetly against Johanna’s lips. And as Johanna kissed Virginia more thoroughly she pulled away, breathless and too wrapped up in it to find herself to be embarrassed as she whispers against Virginia’s soft lips something that is supposed to be much breezier than it sounded, “Yeah, well the best seconds of my life always seem to be around you for some reason.”

The words only made Virginia kiss Johanna slower and sweeter as she pulled her on top of her.

After, Virginia held Johanna against her while Johanna traced all her tattoos. Each line burned into Johanna’s memory along with the meaning and origin of each one that Virginia recalled while watching Johanna fondly. In between explaining tattoos, Virginia made sure to tease Johanna plenty about her corny words, but in that moment Johanna was so happy she couldn’t even bring herself to be annoyed.

---

Waking up from vivid memories of one of her sweetest, freest moments with Virginia that wasn’t even from half a year ago is worse than waking from any nightmare. Because the real nightmare is waking up and facing the day.

There’s a gaping hole in her chest and her eyes are wet before she fully opens them.

And worst of all, Johanna’s fingertips twitch and can still feel the tingling memory of the warmth of Virginia’s skin.

All Johanna wants to do is forget it, force this out of her head. Yet simultaneously her fingertips are grasping for the fading ghost of the touch to try and preserve it.

It’s paralyzing.

She doesn’t even move from her hospital bed until a nurse brings in her breakfast and morning medications.

It isn’t until her morphling bag is replaced that she feels like she can fully inhale without a shaky sob possibly ripping her in half.

Maybe Plutarch was right, she may be too weak to handle this.

How is she supposed to go about living in this coffin knowing Virginia is probably being tortured? That at any moment her cover could be blown.

It’s impossible.

And Johanna has faced many impossible things in her life – losing everyone she loved, two Hunger Games, literal torture, killing a bear, you name it – but this feels like the impossible straw that will break the camel’s back of Johanna’s sanity.

If she weren’t so weak from being freshly tortured and aware that everyone here is lying and tries to control her just like the Capitol, then maybe she could handle living in this limbo.

After all it wouldn’t be that different from the way she marched on forward through the weeks after castrating that Gamemaker where she was waiting for the final shoe to drop on her loved ones in punishment.

The what if’s back then nearly drove her mad, but she had routine and freedom.

Well, at least more freedom in her daily hours than she currently has. Also, she still had some people left back then.

But what kind of routine or freedom can she find here?

And she used to be able to drink water and shower normally. Something she never realized how much she took for granted was how showers could often help scrape her up when she felt like garbage.

But that was before.

Now she can’t even have that. Showering is like being dipped in acid and reliving every horrible shock sometimes. If the water is too cold her mind turns to slosh and can barely remember where she is.

So yeah. The idea of Virginia alone in a Capitol prison just compounds on everything.

And only the morphling makes facing the day possible. Johanna is only so strong.

---

She hits her one-week mark in her new awful residence, and it feels nearly as long as her captivity in the Capitol.

She doesn’t know if she’d classify it as survivable or an improvement if she didn’t have the morphling drip.

It’s a very pleasant reminder of a lack of physical pain. It’s nice to not be constantly tortured and to receive regular, boring, meals.

Her head doctors suck and would make Plutarch seem like a self-aware and in touch person.

The multiple surgeries she received have healed most major injuries. She doesn’t like listening to the doctors, but she gradually listens to Asterid explain medical updates every day so Johanna can try to even begin to map everything that was done to her body.

The whip wound on her right shoulder required three total surgeries to address. She was correct in her guess that that wound nearly killed her. It was incredibly infected and the proximity to her lungs made it develop into severe pneumonia. The week of IV antibiotics and her first emergency surgery to drain fluid from her lungs properly treated that.

She had multiple bruised, cracked, and one broken rib. In her first emergency surgery they did a type of invasive, direct treatment on her ribs that acted similar to how the Capitol’s full body polish did. In that it rapidly healed them, apparently it is because the only other ways to heal them is time or a procedure while she is awake that wouldn’t allow her to take morphling. And despite District 13’s conservative use of resources, they have been generous with her morphling dosages because her body is so wrecked.

Johanna’s severe malnutrition made her remain hungry in her first few days here from how they had to ease her back into food. Now she is receiving meals that are slightly larger than average so she can put on weight. She even gets an additional snack in the afternoon that nobody else gets.

Her bruises lighten and her scabs begin peeling off.

What a difference a week can make with proper food and medical care, huh?

To District 13 that is enough time from her horridly traumatic tenure in the Capitol to get on moving. Her scheduling officially becomes more rigid at the one-week mark.

The most annoying part is that two large sections of her day are devoted to physical therapy which feels ridiculous and like she doesn’t need it.

The first day of those appointments proves her incredibly wrong.

It is grueling and she is weak, it’s all so irritating and awful.

But the worst part is her afternoon] physical therapy sessions at 1500 – because Thirteen is even militaristic in their physical therapy crap – that are to help her heal and adjust to the hand tremors and bouts of weakness from her electrocution that the doctors said may last her entire life.

Which is just freaking fantastic.

Whittling, which used to free up her head and let herself exist, becomes a cruel mockery of her shaking hands.

Johanna basically had to beg her head doctor – she had to say please like eight times and was forced to be pleasant for a full session – to get a second wax block.

They limit her down to only plastic spoons after she snaps a plastic knife in a fit of temper after a bout of weakness in her hand made her completely drop her half-carved duck. When she snapped the think the barely cut her palm but one of her doctors noticed it and cited it as reason enough to bring her down to a spoon.

She loses all rights to whittle ever again after she misplaced the second wax block yesterday. Johanna didn’t even lose it she just threw it at the wall after another botched carving and it bounced into the trashcan. It entertained her enough that she didn’t bother to retrieve it.

And now she has nothing to do to keep her hands busy as punishment.

Sometimes it feels like she just traded one prison for another.

Patient.

She must remind herself that she is a patient here.

Not a prisoner.

Not like in the Capitol.

Or that’s at least the bullshit District 13 wants her to swallow and believe.

Finnick tries to get her into the habit of tying knots with a short section of rope.

He’s trying to be helpful, but he should know Johanna is the last person to make this suggestion to.

Because knots and rope just make her think of the noose she should’ve used in her first and second arena.

But more prominently it makes her think of Archer and the noose he used to end it.

How he sacrificed his life for her freedom.

And what life is that now?

Pathetic.

“I don’t know Finnick, I’ll take up tying rope when you decide to take up huffing poison fog,” she snarls. “That way we can both relive our mentors’ deaths as a hobby.”

It’s vicious and cruel.

And she is so destroyed now, that she doesn’t even feel the immediate gut wrenching guilt she should when Finnick just gets up and silently leaves with tears in his eyes.

She doesn’t know how to not be angry at him.

He never worried about Johanna once in captivity. Just wrote her off as dead because of Annie.

Annie, Annie, Annie.

It makes her feel dispensable to him.

So lashing out at him almost feels good at times.

Why should she feel bad?

Johanna needs to be drugged out of her skull like those freaks from Six to even be sponge-bathed every other day, she’s been destroyed. To know one of her last supports in her last isolating years didn’t even think of her… she feels even more abandoned and destroyed than she did in that cell in the Capitol.

---

Finnick doesn’t visit for a few days, and it feels like she’s killed him with her bare hands.

---

Haymitch, of all people, takes up the habit of sneaking into her room daily.

She never brings up what she overheard.

Johanna intends to keep what she heard about Virginia to herself. She isn’t even that annoyed that Haymitch so easily lies by omission in these moments, doing Plutarch’s bidding by not telling Johanna. She wouldn’t expect any different from him, and she at least has some respect for him having her back.

Neither expects any apology for their interaction on her first day here.

She starts sending barbs his way the first time he comes into her room until he explains he is coming in here to nap and escape everything for a few minutes.

The sobriety is killing him. Peeta’s condition is killing him.

So, she lets him take naps in the chair.

Half the time he is awake they bicker relentlessly that almost feels like connecting to another human.

One day he just stares at her for a while.

“What?” Johanna hisses, fully intending to call him a weird pervert and threaten his life with extreme violence, but a sullen expression on Haymitch’s face stops her.

“Nothing, you just remind me of someone.”

The way he says it, she understands.

It’s someone he has lost. 

“A gorgeous mean bitch?” Johanna goads jokingly.

He chuckles, “She would’ve classified herself as that. And she always had something to say.”

Johanna doesn’t probe, but she begins to tolerate the silent companionship on most days when he naps.

But a few days into this new routine, she realizes he’s only been visiting to build up a repertoire with her to cash in a favor.

What else is she supposed to think when he asks for something so big?

There’s been a lot of debating between head doctors, who are considering having Johanna visit Peeta. While both are highly unstable and it could worsen both of their conditions, they built a trauma bond that kept the other as sane as possible while in the Capitol.

It appears that Johanna’s no bullshit attitude from the other side of the wall provided some cracks in the concrete foundation of Peeta’s brainwashing. He apparently has mentioned things like “Johanna said this…”

So naturally, they think she can help him.

Shockingly the only people who have Johanna’s back is the main head doctor who visits her, he outright said no. But Peeta’s head doctors being open to it and desperate for progress, they wore her head doctor down to agree to let it be agreed upon by both patients.

Johanna and Haymitch on Peeta’s behalf, since he isn’t sane and has joined the whole dead family club the victors could form down here.

And Haymitch comes begging.

Johanna hates him for it.

She’s so secondary to everyone.

But she ends up doing it when Finnick says, “Come on, Jo. You know he would’ve done it for you if the roles were reversed.”

She doesn’t tear into Finnick when he says it, because it is the first time he visited since she made him cry. Johanna just begrudgingly agrees to it.

But she only agrees to do it after negotiating for a heavy dosage of morphling. She can feel how they’ve started lowering it. She hates it.

No morphling means pain.

Sure, a significant amount of physical pain.

But the emotional pain?

It’s unlivable without it.                                                                                                                                       

Morphling keeps her mind wandering about Virginia – what might they be doing to her? Is her cover intact? – it makes her nearly mad. The drugs keep Johanna from being consumed by naïve hope and total devastation.

And when the drug is in her veins she can drink a glass of water without feeling like she has to swallow eight times for a single sip and itch her esophagus raw from the sensation.

---

Johanna was expecting for Peeta to look pretty rough, after all she had to look at her own skeletal face and mostly bald head in the mirror every day. Both of them have barely begun healing from what the Capitol did, but it’s still a bit of a gutting sight.

He’s dangerously thin, has bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep, healing bruises on his arms, and gauze plastered on wrists that are clearly raw from the permanent cuffs slapped on him.

To let him move around his room during the day and for this meeting, there is a spot on the wall beside his bed that the guards move to connect each cuff on his wrist to. They are connected to chains that allow him about four feet to walk without being near her.

Like an animal.

How different does this even look than the inside of his cell in the Capitol?

Disheveled blonde hair, clouded blue eyes, and the way his arms lamely slump to his side after he is locked in and the guards step out is worse than the images her mind conjures every night when most of her dreams are scored with the chorus of Peeta’s screams from being tortured.

He seems utterly defeated yet lost and so angry – it reminds Johanna of when she lost control after her concussion but times a million.

She remembers the morphling drip in her hand and presses the button forcefully.

Peeta’s eyes lock with hers.

Johanna freezes.

And a relief floods her with the morphling as Peeta’s eyes light up in recognition.

He looks like the friendly kid who genuinely got to know her before the games despite it clearly getting him put in the doghouse with his fake fiancée.

It’s that look that reappears.

“Johanna!” He exclaims in relief like he’s been looking for her for centuries.

It clangs deeply in the hollow parts of her that knows nobody has ever been that relieved to see her in so long. Like she’s a first priority.

“You’re okay!”

She answers, “Good use of your eyes, brainless.”

Nobody scolds her over the earpiece. They told her to act similar to their interactions in the cell. And it feels okay to respond like this.

“I thought Katniss killed you!”

“Oh Peeta, don’t get it twisted. I’m the one who almost killed her, give me more credit than that,” she jokes easily. But then she feels the ripping of Katniss’s tracker under her fingers and they begin to sweat with the memory of killing the girl from District 1 in her first games with the ice axe.

“You did?”

“Ugh, duh. I cut her up pretty good and got her tracker out,” Johanna snarks. “Saved her life and had those idiot Careers chase after me in the jungle. She’d never be able to kill me that easily.”

“Couldn’t she just shoot you? Seems more effective than an axe,” Peeta says. “That’s your weapon of choice, right?”

“Yeah,” she says with a shrug. “But she can’t fight up close, she’d be useless without that bow. It’s why I threatened to snap the thing over my knee in the arena.”

“She’s bad at fighting up close?” Peeta’s face genuinely twists up in confusion.

“You should know that firsthand, bud, you nearly snapped her neck. I heard she was basically just a half-dead ragdoll until one of those gray drones running this place conked you and saved her ass. Everyone saves her,” Johanna says with an eyeroll. She chuckles meanly, “Katniss can’t fight her own battles, so the thought that she is this deadly mutt is laughable.”

“She made me kill in the arena,” he grits his teeth on his last word.

“Well, technically the Capitol makes us all kill in the arena. Or did they brainwash you into wanting to lick Snow’s crusty toes and suck on the Capitol’s dick between all the anti-Katniss shit?”

“Yeesh, Johanna,” Haymitch breathes out in her earpiece.

She poorly hides how she startles when this makes Peeta laugh boisterously. It doesn’t sound like his laugh though.

“No, I am not stupid enough to care about the people who tortured me,” Peeta responds. “Same reason I have no need to trust all these people who have thrown me in a cell.”

“I was rescued too and I get free roam mainly,” she claims and holds her arms out and glares at the shackles on his wrists. “You put yourself in this cell.”

“Because of her!” he is growing agitated. “She tried to kill me, she killed my family, she used-“

“Ugh, shut up!” Johanna groans impatiently.

Haymitch and about three doctors chide her in her ear.

Maybe because they expect Peeta to only grow more agitated and aggressive from her abrasiveness, but it almost pauses him like a bucket of ice-cold water has been dumped on him.

“Everyone else here is too afraid to cut me off,” he eventually says after his befuddled expression drops into something more sincere. Almost appreciative.

“Yeah, well they’ve been treating me like a live bomb. I know how condescending that can be, I’m not here to bullshit you,” Johanna explains and crosses her arms.

“How can I even trust that? Trust your word?” He says, “Or trust if anything is real or not anymore?”

She sits with that for a second, because she doesn’t know how to answer that. Johanna is in the same boat about not being able to trust anyone, yet she can’t really confirm his delusions.

“Do you remember our first night there?” Johanna eventually asks after blue eyes stare into her unflinching gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time. “The elevator?”

His blonde brows furrow, “I- we were together and being taken to our cells. I was hit so hard I threw up all over the glass, they hurt you too.”

“A guard groped me, I broke his fingers, got slapped, and when he went to do it again…” Johanna swallows. “You attacked him and stuck your neck out for me even though you knew they’d beat you for it. When only an hour before that I tried goading you into killing me.”

“So what? I should trust you because I protected you at my own detriment.”

“Wow, people weren’t kidding – they turned you into a huge dick,” she mutters under her breath. Johanna glares at him, “I’m not saying you should trust me or anything. For starters, I don’t give a shit if you do or don’t. What I am telling you is that I have no interest in lying to you. I didn’t forget that or how you helped keep me sane through the wall.”

“Do you think you owe me or something? Or is this still all for Katniss?”

She rolls her eyes, “No, this is about you, Peeta. I know what it is like being manipulated and lied to. I have no interest in doing any government’s bidding for them. This is me doing the same thing you did for me when I would twitch on the ground like a dying fish for hours. I think that’s enough to qualify us as friends,” she shrugs, “just trying to help a friend out.”

“Nobody made you visit?”

“Haymitch asked me,” she explains. “And it’s not like I have much else to do around here.”

Peeta’s face screws up and he yanks on his chained wrists while making fists he keeps opening and closing. Looks like Haymitch is a touchy subject based on how much loud exhaling is being puffed out of Peeta’s nose.

“Haymitch only does Katniss’s bidding. None of it is for me.”

Johanna tosses her head back and laughs, which again breaks up Peeta’s growing agitation with more confusion.

“Seriously? Haymitch can’t stand Katniss compared to you. You were always the much more bearable of you two,” she says.

“Why would I trust him? He let me be captured, he let me be tortured?”

“I get it. I hate all them for it too,” Johanna dully says.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Peeta. You and I got a pretty bum fucking end of the deal that night, don’t you think?” She says sardonically. “But they rescued us, I never thought something like that could’ve happened.”

“It only happened for Katniss.”

“Because she cares about you,” Johanna impatiently cuts him off. “In her own constipated way, she cares for you. But she isn’t the only one. Haymitch isn’t much, I definitely think he’s pretty shitty as far as mentors come, but I don’t think he’s done much else besides hover on the other side of that mirror and worry about you and try to help you since we’ve gotten here.”

“He cares too,” Peeta concludes. “He must be pretty constipated at showing it too.”

Johanna chuckles, “Yeah.”

As her laughter peters out, she feels some cool dread settle as Peeta’s eyes foggily stay locked on her like he is trying to keep the crumbling pieces of his brain intact.

“That wasn’t the only time you were naked in the elevator, was it?” he asks after a few beats of silence that were enough for Johanna to swallow thickly with dread.

“No, it wasn’t,” she says with a small chuckle.

“The other was the first time we met, right? You stripped in the elevator?” he asks.

“Yeah, well outside of it.”

“Why?”

“Figured you actually deserved to see a pair of boobs before you died,” Johanna deadpans and deflects jokingly.

“Johanna, he’s not going to pick up on your sarcasm there,” Haymitch chirps in her ear.

And Haymitch has evolved into a hovering mess over Peeta, so she thinks he’s being a bit overkill until she can feel her skin crawling under Peeta’s gaze. She realizes Haymitch is right. Peeta isn’t the same anymore, he is still hijacked. And a hijacked Peeta doesn’t only have eyes for the girl whom he thinks is a mutt. And his whole world is a mess of not understanding his surroundings, what else would he think by her saying this and the other context that has stuck in his mixed-up brain?

Johanna automatically crosses her arms when she can practically see behind the fog of Peeta’s eyes he is trying to picture her naked.

Like he thought she was actually flirting with him.

Nasty.

First off, he’s a kid.

Second off, gross. 

It makes her skin itch like its damp with water, her chest is heavy and hard to breathe like the implants are still pressing down on her.

Johanna scowls at Peeta, “Eww, I am obviously joking. It’s because I knew you two were faking it and raging virgins, so I did it make fun of Katniss, mostly.”

“That’s funny,” Peeta smirks, but he keeps looking at Johanna.

She really wants to leave the room, “Yeah so don’t look at me like that. You’re barking so far up the wrong tree there, kiddo.”

“What?”

“Hard pass,” she scoffs. “No, like the hardest of passes ever.”

“Okay,” he says and shrugs. Instead of feelings of rejection, more memories stir and Peeta asks, “Did you and Finnick ever…”

“Date? No.” She answers tensely.

“I remember hearing videos from your cell,” Peeta says slowly.

“And?” she swallows thickly.

“You guys were having sex.”

“Yes.” Johanna quietly answers and looks down to her feet.

She can hear it again, the fake noises from her own younger self on the screen, how trapped she was at that time in her life. Johanna doesn’t want to talk about this.

“So, it’s not barking up that wrong of a tree,” he’s trying to joke in the same way she just did, but he doesn’t sound like himself.

“It fully is,” she hisses out. “It was neither of our choices. We were forced to do it.”

She backpedals closer to the door and it trying to keep herself from losing it on him.

“It didn’t sound forced.”

It’s almost as uncanny as that copycat mutt from her first arena, how it was close to Ivy but wasn’t actually her. The boy who became fuming mad and violent over a guard violating her and fought to try and help her would never have said something like that.

If she weren’t so dehydrated it could almost make her eyes wet.

“Well Snow forced us to. When I didn’t do good enough, someone was killed.” She huffs and tightens her arms even more around herself. Her chest pangs with memories of Conner’s death specifically.

“Why?”

“Because the Capitol is full of disgusting perverts,” she growls. “I really did all the stripping to mock the Capitol. It was just a bonus to mess with you guys.”

“Mock the Capitol?”

“And Snow,” she repeats.

“But Katniss-“

“Katniss had nothing to do with how I was sold. That prude would keel over and die if she watched the videos Finnick and I made. Or even heard about half the things I had to do, don’t blame her because of your bullshit brainwashing. And she sure as hell didn’t kill my entire family because I wasn’t a good enough whore, that was Snow.”

Flickers of confused agitation on Peeta’s face makes Johanna jam her thumb into the morphling button. But no dosage is ready.

Johanna slaps the door harshly trying to signal that she wants out. But the door remains shut and Peeta startles a bit out of his agitation.

“I remember you screaming a lot.” He mentions as if he has already forgotten that last minute of their conversation.

“Well, they tortured me a lot, brainless.”

He continues analyzing her. Not in a way that feels invasive anymore, but still beyond unsettling. Like she can feel how horrifically traumatizing and upsetting whatever he is going to continue asking will be.

“If Snow killed your family, then who did they bring in your cell? I remember them doing that.”

“They made me watch videos of them killing my ex,” she grits out. “And they brought in the only other victor left from District 7, killed him.”

“No, they brought in a girl,” he insists firmly. “I remember hearing it.” Peeta says with a screwed brow, “Who was that if everyone is dead?”

“I don’t want to answer that. Let me out. Now.”

Johanna immediately clips out, her eyes widening and backing away even further from Peeta like he’s an animal. He looks guilty for a moment before his eyes cloud over her.

“Katniss got to you too, that mutt.”

“Let me out!” Johanna smacks the door harder and stumbles out the second air spreads up her back.

Later that night, when Haymitch tries to broach the topic. She can already hear how there’s hope, apparently seeing and talking to Johanna grounded a lot of Peeta’s more traumatic memories which are obviously the things haunting him the most right now.

But Johanna chokes on a dry sob, she’s so dehydrated she goes through so many IV bags since she refuses to drink water. She’s so pathetic.

And she can’t be whatever this is Peeta needs.

She tells Haymitch as much. He doesn’t prod any further, but the damage is done.

At least the damage is done to Johanna.

Haymitch’s visits make her agitated now. She just feels used.

And she’s been a snarling bitch because her morphling dosage is cutting more daily.

They have no empathy for how much Johanna needs that drug because of how much Peeta’s meeting made her think of prostitution, torture, and Virginia.

Nobody even asks how she’s doing.

She just becomes another wasted asset in this dungeon.

---

Her dosage is cut down more as the days pass.

One day when Prim walks Johanna back to her hospital room after a grueling physical therapy session, they find Finnick waiting for them.

He’s been trying harder with Johanna, after her failed visit with Peeta.

Finnick feels guilty for urging Johanna to do it (rightfully so) when she managed to relay to him in a broken rant about how much her visit with Peeta fucked her up.

He’s trying to be there more as some stupid apology. But Johanna wants to avoid Finnick for the same reason he feels like shit.

“You need an ‘If lost, return to Annie’ sign to dangle from your neck,” Johanna says as greeting.

Finnick’s eyes light up excitedly at Johanna and Prim’s arrival. “Hey, Johanna. I feel like I haven’t seen you the last few days. If we’re bored, you can make that sign and I’ll wear it everywhere.”

Johanna rolls her eyes and swallows down the response she wants to bark out.

“Prim, how’s your physical therapy rotation?” Finnick asks as he follows them into the room.

Impatiently waving off Prim’s hovering hands, Johanna plops back in her bed.

“It’s been really good,” Prim softly responds. “It means I get to hang out with Johanna most days.”

“I’m teaching her a lot of new curse words,” Johanna pipes up.

Finnick chuckles and sits down in the armchair beside the bed, “I’m sure you’re staying entertained.”

Johanna tunes out Finnick and Prim’s small talk.

She just stares at the IV port that is in her elbow but was disconnected for physical therapy. Prim barely attaches the IV tube of a fresh bag of morphling and Johanna is already jamming her thumb desperately into the button.

A sigh of relief floods her body. She didn’t even realize how sore physical therapy made her, but it makes every slowly healing injury pulse in agony. But as her muscles slacken and she sinks back into the flat pillow, Johanna lazily looks over at Finnick. She mutters out a goodbye as Prim heads out.

“How have you been?” Finnick asks.

“What do you think, brainless?” Johanna rolls her eyes.

Finnick shifts in his seat, “Yeah, would talking about anything help?”

“No, talking isn’t going to bring anyone back or make me suddenly be able to tolerate water again,” she means to say the words with venom, but the drugs in her veins just make her sound pathetic. Finnick’s growing concern is pissing her off. “Finnick, why are you even bothering?”

“What?”

“Don’t waste your time. You don’t need to pretend to care. Annie is back; I understand that you want to spend time together. Just go stop bothering with these pathetic five-minute visits you sprinkle throughout the day,” the morphling keeps Johanna’s voice even, she doesn’t feel explosive with anger. She’s just so defeated.

Finnick shakes his head and then scoffs, “I knew it. You’ve been avoiding me. Johanna, you’re my friend,” he earnestly stops to correct himself, “You’re my best friend. Don’t push me away right now.”

Warm memories of Virginia admitting Johanna was her best friend floods her mind.

The nights of warmth they found in the cabin as they gradually grew closer each night. Johanna remembers she made some joke, telling Virginia that her own best friend is probably Finnick. She thinks that’s the night she started realizing what letting Virginia in could be like.

She felt so safe and loved.

And with each day, she knows more and more that she will never feel that way again.

Johanna’s throat tightens. Her cheeks burn in a way that makes her body almost begin twitching in response. She didn’t even notice she started crying. Her IV tangles on something when she tries to wipe at her tears.

“Please Johanna,” Finnick’s earnest voice pulls Johanna away from that uneasy rapid beeping from her heart monitor. His green eyes remind her of the trees from home. Slowly, Finnick uses a tissue and dabs away at Johanna’s cheeks and then he helps her untangle the IV tube.

“I wanted them to kill me. Why couldn’t they just kill me in there?” Johanna chokes out. She snatches the tissue from Finnick’s grasp and dabs at her own cheeks.

“I’m glad they didn’t,” Finnick offers.

“Yeah, what would you do without your backup crutch?” She nearly growls.

His face drops instantly in shocked confusion.

“That’s all I am to you, right?” she clarifies when he looks at her in confusion. “Your emotional support for when Annie isn’t around.”

“Johanna, no-“

“I know more now than ever you never truly cared about me. It’s your fault I had that visit with Peeta. I wasn’t going to do it, but you convinced me.”

“I was just trying to help-“

“To help Peeta! But what about helping me, Finnick?” She asks emptily. “Why would you think I could handle that?”

“I just thought since you said you both kept each other as sane as possible in there,” Finnick begins.

Johanna shakes her head harshly, “He asked me about our sex tapes, he asked me about Virginia in my cell. How do you think that felt? How would you like it if Annie was dragged in front of you in a cell and tortured? Then less than two weeks later I told you to go visit Peeta because he would’ve done the same for you only to have him question you about it.”

“I shouldn’t have-“

“Yeah, you shouldn’t. And I’m going insane because Virginia is alive and being tortured for actual rebel secrets, unlike your fucking girlfriend who isn’t even stable enough to look at me. Yet she somehow warranted a rescue mission-”

“Do not speak about Annie like that.” He tensely cuts her off.

“Why not? If I do, will you finally leave me alone?” Johanna growls. “Or maybe you can finally just admit you either haven’t cared enough to visit me for more than five minutes at a time or it’s because every single thing you do is about and to accommodate Annie and I’m insignificant.”

“I can care about both of you,” he impatiently quips. “You can’t be mad at her for the Capitol torturing you worse. You know that isn’t fair or her fault.”

“Yeah, well nothing is ever fair,” Johanna huffs. “And I don’t care that I was tortured worse and she wasn’t. But I do care that you didn’t even worry or think of me.” A sharp, empty laugh spills from her mouth and she shakes her head, “I’m an awful person; I will admit that. But I’d at least have the capacity to be worried about both Virginia and you if you were captured.”

The air stills as she gasps. Her face is hot with rage.

“Finnick, you haven’t even asked me about her?” She loses all her venom as she mutters this.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about her,” he counters. “I didn’t want to upset you more. I can’t read your mind.”

“I couldn’t have gotten more upset that day I popped up at your door, but you didn’t even ask or follow-up on that. Why the fuck do you think I was there?”

Finnick rubs at his forehead, “Johanna, I tried to come after you that day. I was just popping in to tell Annie where I was going and by the time I went to follow you, you were gone.”

“I wasn’t going to wait for someone who didn’t care if I was dead or alive.”

“That’s not-“

Her voice finally raises to stop him from cutting her off, “The only person who actually gives a shit if I was dead or alive is actively being tortured and starved. She’s technically a prisoner now and will probably die. And wanna know what the real kicker is? I only know this wonderful bit of information because I overheard Plutarch discussing the pros and cons of telling me this update about her.”

Finnick’s mouth snaps shut as he takes in the information being lobbed at him.

Johanna looks at him with some diluted expression of disgust and exhaustion as she bleakly says, “Take a wild guess if anyone has actually told me anything.”

“Johanna, I didn’t know,” he says slowly while shaking his head.

“Yeah, why would you? I mean nothing to anyone. I’m sick of being used by everyone, and I think that includes you. I never would’ve thought that before, but,” she stops and wetly chuckles.

“Oh, come on,” he begins to rebuttal.

She cuts him off with a weak, defeated laugh and stares at the wall rather than his sad eyes, “So stop wasting both our times with this half-baked friendship shit,” she says and crosses her arms.

The only noise that follows is her heart monitor. She can feel him staring at her, probably feeling his own waves of anger and shock, definitely not concern.

She refuses to look at him, “Just get the fuck out of here, Finnick.”

He gets up and shuffles to the door, but stops with his back to her, his posture stiff. “You aren’t the only person that’s been put through hell. Just because you had it worse than most doesn’t mean you get some hall pass to be cruel.”

The light on her morphling drip takes eternities to light up again.

It’s less world-endingly devastating with an immediacy that almost feels magical in her crumbling body. But she still sobs out a scream into two pillows as somewhere deep inside herself she’s begging for Finnick to come back.

Her glazed eyes stare at the white wall until it blurs.

It’s better this way.

---

She wakes from her nightmares with a weaker dosage. She barely feels any high anymore.

The only hobby she has been allowed to keep her hands busy is folding stupid cranes and frogs out of the same four pieces of paper.

And she’s never felt more alone.

The day eats away at her. Her only entertainment is the news reel on updates in District 2.

But later that night her room is erupting in chaos hours after she watched Katniss’s lame speech and her subsequently being shot on live television.

After the surgery and many rounds of loud chattering medical staff that don’t try to be quiet for Johanna who is trying to sleep, she almost barks out a laugh at overhearing all this madness is for bruised ribs and a ruptured spleen.

Johanna had more than several bruised ribs when she was rescued. She’d kill to have people go this crazy over her for something so miniscule.

More eats away at what little remains of Johanna.

She tries to resist the temptation of the full morphling bag on the other side of the white curtain.

The hunger itching in her for the need to numb all this is worse than any level of starvation she endured during her captivity.

She’s already so weak.

And she’s too weak to stop herself from tiptoeing over and easily hooking Katniss’s morphing drip into her own IV port.

Maybe if it was any person other than Katniss she’d feel guilty. Or maybe not. It doesn’t matter.

Anything that could’ve been guilt is immediately snuffed out with the overwhelming relief flooding her veins.

It’s the most morphling she’s had in days. It provides Johanna with mercy – silencing her thoughts. 

Notes:

yes the person Johanna reminded Haymitch of was Maysilee Donner.

Also, Johanna is clearly at one of her lowest points which drove her to stealing from Katniss's morphling and being a raging bitch to Finnick. (Don't worry she'll apologize to him soon). This is probably one of her more depressed points, but we're nearing the canon roommate arc & we'll see her training to fight for the invasion helps give her some purpose.

A huge thanks to everyone who reads. I appreciate any kudos/comments/bookmarks and love interacting with your feedback!

Up next in Chapter 6: Having the Mockingjay as her roommate means being ignored even more. As Johanna spirals and continues stealing from Katniss's morphling, the progress in the war gives her more fight and purpose.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Summary:

Johanna's new roommate comes with some perks - she lets Johanna steal some of her morphling. Asterid talks a bit of sense into Johanna, and Finnick receives a much deserved apology.

And while everyone is full of joy at Finnick and Annie's wedding, Johanna struggles under the weight of her family's ghosts.

TW: addiction, PTSD

Johanna’s hospital room that was once a reminder of her loneliness is amplified despite the constant swarm of medical staff throughout the night.

It makes it so the three tiny sessions of stealing Katniss’s morphling very short lived.

Everyone acts like they care about their precious Mockingjay but if they really cared about Katniss they wouldn’t have shoved her in a room with Johanna.

That’s the logic she uses to justify the two times she returns to take the morphling after the first micro-session had her rushing to the bathroom and scratching at her arms to try and push down the temptation to go back for more.

Johanna didn’t know she could be loaded with such guilt yet not feel an ounce of remorse at the same time.

No wonder those morphlings from Six were so pathetically skin and bone, quitting this shit is horrid even when they’re controlled weening her off of it.

Maybe she’d feel worse or more shame about the morphling if it was anyone but Katniss.

But since everything was taken from Johanna and Katniss got to keep everyone, she figures this is the one thing she can take from Katniss.

Her body and mind feel like shit still, and all she can register is annoyance at Katniss’s groaning upon waking. Over bruised fucking ribs. How would Katniss handle being in Johanna’s own body right now? Could she even handle an ounce of that pain? Probably not.

Her hand tangles in the white curtain separating their beds and yanks it back.

Katniss poorly conceals her look of brief terror.

It’s the same look all those kids had when Johanna killed them. It’s the same look on Katniss’s face from the night Johanna saved her precious life and got herself a ticket to torture in the Capitol.

And she is immediately reminded of one of her biggest reasons she can’t stand Katniss.

Katniss has only ever seen Johanna as the deceptive bloodthirsty killer that the Capitol painted her out to be.

“I’m alive,” Katniss states like that is some groundbreaking discovery.

“No kidding, brainless,” Johanna snarks as she walks over and plunks down at the foot of Katniss’s bed.

She grins at the look of discomfort that blankets Katniss’s face from the action.

“Still a little sore?” Johanna mocks as she quickly and easily disconnects Katniss’s morphling supply and hooks it into her own IV port on her arm. Finding it much easier to steal from her when Katniss is awake and talking. “They started cutting back my supply a few days ago. Afraid I’m going to turn into one of those freaks from Six. I’ve had to borrow from you when the coast was clear, didn’t think you’d mind.”

Her last statement is perfect in how Katniss’s face poorly conceals her guilt just at the sight of her.

They look at each other, and it’s a clear understanding between them both – Johanna was almost tortured to death because of Katniss, this is the least she owes her.

Katniss has no right to mind or stop her.

If the euphoria of dullness that washes over her mind and destroyed body didn’t hit, she’d probably feel more about how manipulative she sounds right now.

About how much she sounds like her own father.

But Johanna didn’t pick this poison, she isn’t her dad.

These idiots exposed her to a drug when she was on the brink of death and then they start cutting it back when they shouldn’t, when her body wasn’t ready yet.

Johanna sighs, “Maybe they were onto something in Six. Drug yourself out and paint flowers on your body. Not such a bad life. Seemed happier than the rest of us anyway.”

Katniss does that annoying thing, staring into her soul, like she is about to pity her. But Johanna just keeps talking, because it’s the longest anyone has paid attention to her in what feels like days.

“They’ve got this head doctor who comes around every day. Supposed to be helping me recover. Like some guy who has spent his life in this rabbit warren’s going to fix me up? Complete idiot. At least twenty times a session, he reminds me that I’m totally safe.”

That pulls a smile from Katniss, at least she’s actually listening to Johanna talk. Most people don’t.

“How about you, Mockingjay? You feel totally safe?”

“Oh yeah, right up until I got shot.”

She rolls her eyes, “Please, that bullet never even touched you. Cinna saw to that.”

“Broken ribs?”

“Not even. Bruised pretty good. The impact ruptured your spleen they couldn’t repair it,” Johanna waves a dismissive hand, “Don’t worry, you don’t need one. And if you did, they’d find you one, wouldn’t they? It’s everybody’s job to keep you alive.”

“Is that why you hate me?”

Well look who’s brave enough to actually acknowledge it without everyone in the world to fight her battles for her.

“Partly,” Johanna admits easily. “Jealousy is certainly involved.”

If she didn’t have the morphling, she’d be embarrassed that she’s jealous of a damn teenager. But how can’t she be jealous when Katniss still has so many people? When Katniss has people who listen to her?

Johanna wishes she could have one singular moment of being treated with an ounce of fairness that Katniss is always afforded.

And why her?

What’s the big deal for some annoying kid?

“I also think you’re a little hard to swallow. With your tacky, romantic drama. And your defender of the helpless act. Only it isn’t an act. Which makes you more unbearable,” Johanna pauses. “Please, feel free to take this personally.”

“You should’ve been the Mockingjay. No one would’ve had to feed you lines,” Katniss responds.

If only she knew.

She was never as influential as Katniss, but she tried her own forms of rebellion. Most of those forms not far off from Katniss but never succeeded. Trying to hang herself in the arena. Making a scene in the square with a traffic cone and throwing Daisy’s dismembered finger down the Justice Building steps. Prying open Jack’s coffin so all of District 7 who showed would see the truth in the brutality of his death. Spitting on stage during the anthem after her second reaping.

But her impact never spread far beyond her own district.

Sure, before Katniss everyone loved Johanna’s cleverness. People in the Capitol found her captivating and those in District 7 never bought the propaganda about her killing Birch. But she was never liked like Katniss was.

All of Johanna’s admiration and respect came from her own manipulation and violence in how she won the games.

And it’s clear everyone sees her this way.

Except for Virginia, she once told Johanna – after Johanna relentlessly bugged her on a cold night in a cabin far away – the word she used to describe Johanna to others in the Capitol while working was scrappy.

It felt more appropriate to how Johanna felt about herself. But then again, Virginia is one of the only people who has ever actually seen Johanna for who she is. 

“True. But no one likes me.”

An ‘obsolete has-been’ was once used to describe Johanna on the cover of a Capitol tabloid in the months after Katniss’s victory. Johanna never subscribed to the crappy gossip garbage, but Snow always saw to her getting the issues where Johanna was mentioned.

“They trusted you though, to get me out. And they’re afraid of you.”

Johanna hums, they used to. She used to terrify the president since she was totally untethered and unable to control. Now? Well, the tabloid sent in the mail speaks for itself.

“Here, maybe. In the Capitol, you’re the one they’re scared of now.”

Gale appears in the doorway. Johanna neatly unhooks the morphling drip and hooks Katniss back up.

Eww, they look too much alike to be dating. Or whatever they are.

“Your cousin’s not afraid of me,” she conspiratorially whispers while leaning towards Katniss.

He should be, she could kill him. 

Johanna scoots off the bed and hip checks Gale’s leg while passing him, “Are you, gorgeous?”

She mocks and laughs as she walks out the room and away from whatever their gross romantic "cousin" drama is. All she hopes is that she pissed Katniss off, now she’s at least two for two on making an impression on both of Katniss’s whiney boyfriends.

---

Johanna keeps dipping into Katniss’s morphling supply.

It becomes easier every time.

She tells herself she has it under control, Johanna stays sharp and smart enough to never dip too much and to avoid getting caught.

A few days after this unwelcome roommate has joined her current cell, or hospital room as these idiots here call it, the propo team comes in. It’s to disprove the rumors of the Mockingjay’s death

But when Johanna sees cameras and crew, she shuts down. She’s back in the Capitol, forced into propos spewing shit she doesn’t believe. The lash of a whip on her legs stinging for not complying. The way she was almost killed for putting her hand in her pocket burns like burst of shocks in her brain.

Nobody even cared about Johanna, people looked over her like a regular patient. Only Cressida gives Johanna a friendly wave of recognition. But in the shadow of the Mockingjay, Johanna slips out of their room unnoticed and runs.

She’s panting and bent over after rounding a corner in the corridor, but she just keeps going as the white walls blend together.

Johanna moves through the halls like a ghost.

She’s certainly ignored like she is one.

Hiding in a deep corridor filled with loud, dusty pipes, Johanna curls in a corner.

The cowardly girl from District 7 is hiding and forgotten.

Hm, that’s familiar.

Johanna gains the resolve that she won’t leave unless someone finds her and hopefully that means she’ll die of thirst.

But someone finds her within a few hours.

And it’s just salt in the wound on who finds her.

“Does your kid hide here too?” Johanna asks dully when their eyes lock as Asterid squats down in front of her in gray scrubs.

She shakes her head, “Never that consistent. But the first few weeks here, we got really used to looking in areas like this for her.”

“Is the crew gone yet?”

Asterid nods.

“Fine,” she sighs and pushes herself up to her feet.

Johanna is never one for silence, maybe that’s why she’d grown kind of fond of Asterid. She is so quiet, so Johanna just gets to run her mouth.

“I didn’t want any part of that, but I wasn’t even wanted to begin with.” Johanna jokes wryly. “I was looked right past. I’m just a used-up pawn.”

Before Asterid stops her with the logic that the propos were to disprove Katniss’s death, Johanna just continues.

“I’d love to be an ignored patient, but then there’d literally be nobody.”

“You have people who care about you.”

“Nobody who loves me though,” Johanna mumbles. “And people plural is an exaggeration. The only person who isn’t worm food that cares about me is Finnick. And my sunny personality has been doing great at basically driving him off with a stick.”

“I care about you and your wellbeing.”

“You’re my nurse, you have to,” Johanna chuckles harshly. “Half-baked niceties just piss me off.”

“Maybe I have a soft spot for victors,” Asterid says. “All of you are more than patients to me.”

“Because you see Katniss in all of us,” Johanna obviously answers. “I’m just your glaring reminder of how she would’ve turned out if bread boy died in there.”

Asterid doesn’t falter or cringe, she just hums after a few moments and answers, “Maybe. But not everything about you relates back to Katniss.”

This actually makes Johanna’s shoes screech on the tile floor as she falters her steps in some shock. Johanna’s entire identity for the last year became coupled with Katniss Everdeen.

When Katniss’s games were getting good, many Capitol new channels talked about how the Johanna Mason is going to become a has-been because of the girl on fire.

Johanna had to take an oath to die for Katniss and a cause.

Johanna was only rescued from the Capitol because the rescue mission was for Katniss’s benefit of needing Peeta. Johanna being rescued was just collateral luck.

She only survived that second damn arena because the rebels started a full-scale war for Katniss Everdeen.

Johanna sniffs dryly, because hearing that from the Mockingjay’s mom means one of the most important people to Katniss Everdeen sees Johanna for more than some metric to compare her daughter to. She sees Johanna as a person.

“Yeah, not much left of me other than that though,” she winces in embarrassment at the honesty. But she’s so exhausted and lonely. And technically this is her head doctor’s advice – stop filtering her thoughts, some bullcrap about how it would be good for her because she had to endure months of torture and carefully curate her every word.

“What was your life like before the Quell?” Asterid thoughtfully asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Everyone was basically already dead by then,” Johanna easily answers. She knows Asterid probably knows all of this from the head doctor’s charts.

“I’m sorry, District 12 is small and my husb-“ Asterid cuts herself off and shakes her head, “I knew who Haymitch was before the Games, before Snow killed everyone. I saw up close how hopeless it must be. But I must say, you amazingly kept your head, something must’ve kept you sane that wasn’t drugs or drink.”

The lingering effects of the morphling in her veins feel tainted with shame that she took it from this nice woman’s kid who needed it.

Johanna, you’ve become your father, you dumb bitch, she thinks to herself.

“Woodworking and I was already in the rebellion by then,” Johanna answers detached. “My mentor loved gardening. All he ever did was spend his days in his greenhouse, I built my own greenhouse and spent most of my time with him. He made sure enough of his stuff was salvaged before he,” she cuts herself off.

“How’d you get by socially after you lost him?” Asterid asks clinically. “People need some socialization to survive.”

Johanna huffs, staring directly at the question she was trying to avoid. Her head doctors keep pressing about her outburst at Plutarch about Virginia but she quite literally will shut her mouth and refuse to talk for the rest of the session if they bring her up. She knows what Asterid is trying to ask, whether it is for the head doctors’ bidding or because she cares and wants to know. Johanna’s too lonely to decipher it or care, but she tries to skirt around the topic, nonetheless.

“I’d make small talk with the grocer and business owners when I ran errands,” It sounds so pathetic that Johanna scoffs out a laugh at herself. “I also had victor duties that kept me busy. Snow made me do woodworking commissions.”

“What about Finnick?”

“Ugh, everyone always asks about him. We are bonded from some dark stuff, he’s a good friend that I would see one month a year,” Johanna answers boredly.

“He was worried about you too,” Asterid answers quietly.

“Yeah right, he stopped being out of his mind about Annie long enough to remember I existed?”

“Yeah. He was very worried about what you were going through since out of everyone you were the only one who knew rebel secrets.”

“He told me he just wrote me off as dead,” Johanna jokes.

“Before the rescue, Finnick was often...struggling. He was nowhere near as alert as he is now. So I don’t think it was necessarily that straight forward,” Asterid says. “Grief is far too complex for it to be so simple. And you’ve known Finnick for years, if he wrote you off as dead it was probably because it was genuinely too hard for his mind to wrap around what you might be enduring.”

More twinges of guilt chip away at the last of her morphling.

Johanna has been beyond cruel to Finnick.

Finnick, who has only been patient, kind, and consistent.

And she blames him for having Annie still. She blames him for how he acted when he was in the situation she is currently in – Virginia out of reach and in the Capitol with no way of knowing what was happening – and it’s not like she’s being rational or her best self because of that.

Maybe Asterid makes a point that helps explain to the hurt part of Johanna that wished Finnick at least worried or grieved Johanna a little bit.

And Johanna did expect Finnick to be a bit of a mind reader about the Virginia stuff, because she’s been too involved and panicked in her own grief.

Just like after Katherine died, grief has turned Johanna vile and cruel. Except this time it is worse because she is tweaking for a drug she didn’t choose. It wasn’t her fault she became addicted, but just like how she kept leaning into and choosing her cruelty after her sister’s death, she’s chosen to continue using her grief as a hall pass for awful behavior.

If Virginia could see Johanna right now, she probably wouldn’t recognize her.

“There was someone else,” Johanna says thickly and painful tears sting in the corner of her eyes as the elevator doors shut behind them.

Asterid pulls the emergency stop on the elevator, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“That’s why you stopped this thing?”

She nods, “It’s clearly hard, you deserve some privacy.”

Except Johanna doesn’t know where to begin, because she feels the weak parts of her that are coming up for air free from the morphling smothering them wanting to cling onto this and be honest. To talk about it.

“There’s a lot of backstory,” Johanna toes at the ground. “It was the equivalent of my Annie, I guess. Except nobody knew about it but Finnick, we had to be really secretive, she was a rebel spy.”

Johanna stops and peeks up, tired but challenging Asterid to give any indicative disgust or reaction at the pronoun.

But Asterid doesn’t make any facial expressions, so Johanna continues, “I don’t know if she’s dead or not, last I knew she was in custody. I’m driving myself insane thinking about it.”

“That’s really tough. But you have no control over this. Which is easier for you to think of?”

“Obviously dead, it’d be much better dead.” Johanna pauses, “But I’m a selfish piece of shit, and I want her to be alive so bad. And I justify it because she told me she was trained to endure torture from these fucked simulations the rebels put her through.”

“But either outcome, you’re mourning the loss of her in some way.” Asterid answers evenly, she turns herself away and stares at the buttons of the elevator. “I know what it’s like. When I lost my husband…”

“How’d you go on?” Johanna asks, wiping at any signs of tear tracks on her face.

“I didn’t,” Asterid dully answers. “I failed my daughters. It wasn’t until Katniss began hunting and foraging that I was able to get the herbs and roots to treat my grief.”

“And that helped?” Johanna asks. “Is that better or worse than the medley of pills people give me every day?”

“Your stuff is definitely stronger. But eventually yes,” Asterid sighs. “Unfortunately, the biggest thing that will heal you is time.”

“That answer sucks. Time only heals because you forget more as it passes.”

Asterid laughs at this like Johanna told the funniest joke, which Johanna’s barely seen the woman ever react beyond small smiles.

“It does, but it gets easier with every day and not necessarily by forgetting them. Maybe more so living by them and beginning to find purpose in things again. My purpose was my girls, I started an apothecary business and tried to make up for all the damage I did,” she quietly answers.

“All my purpose is in wanting to kill Snow and destroy the Capitol, I can’t do that in this coffin.”

“Oh, you didn’t hear, they announced it today – the rebels have District 2, so they’re taking time to reconvene before invading the Capitol.”

And Johanna just blinks in shock long enough that Asterid pushes the button on the emergency stop to let the elevator resume its travel.

Johanna never thought she’d actually see the day. The Capitol is shut off from all resources, left out to dry.

It’s amazing.

She’s closer than she ever thought possible to seeing what she promised her loved ones about.

And Johanna thinks she can take Asterid’s advice, she’s found – more like remembered – her purpose. To destroy the Capitol, to destroy the man who took everything from her with her own bare hands.

She can barely stomach the thought of the person who often felt like everything is probably dead. Or worse.

But if Virginia is still alive, not only would fighting in the Capitol help Johanna achieve her purpose, she’d set her mind to some rest about Virginia. Don’t soldiers free prisoners of war at the ends of these things? She regrets not listening to Virginia more when she’d do the dramatic readings of her banned history books during blizzards together.

Johanna can’t delude herself, because maybe Plutarch was right, she can’t handle the hope. But fighting to destroy the Capitol will likely give her some concrete answer one way or another. Dead or not.

A deluded corner of her brain she lets collect dust is that if Virginia were somehow alive, Johanna could find her.

Her head doctor would probably say that is normal for this situation or something else stupid.

It’s all stupid.

But at least Johanna is feeling her reason to fight again.

She’ll try to shed Virginia off like she did before the Quell and then she can go back to the Capitol to fight.

It’s the only thing that makes facing tomorrow not seem like an endless nightmare.

---

Johanna tracks down Finnick the next day.

He’s waiting for Annie outside some appointment while Johanna is wandering the halls.

“Hey,” she greets him. “How have you been?”

“Hey, I’ve been fine.” There’s a lull between them and Finnick shoots her a tentative look before continuing, “Are you going to be mad at me for that answer?”

Johanna sighs and rolls her eyes, “I’ve been a huge dick. You’re the last person I have left.”

She shifts and clears her throat while glaring at the ceiling, she continues “I haven’t been a good friend, I’m sorry.”

The tension in his shoulders sags and he leans against the wall.

“I get it. You have so much pain, a person can’t carry it all on their own. It makes sense you’d lash out, and I’ll admit I should’ve balanced more time to come visit you, because I know you needed a friend.” he says.

“And there’s a short supply of those,” Johanna dryly jokes.

“I’ll try to be better,” he says. Then he points a faux threatening finger at her with a smirk, “As long as you try to be better too.”

She nods, “I will.”

“Maybe you could eat in the cafeteria instead of the hospital tonight,” Finnick offers. “You can sit with Annie and me.”

“I,” Johanna shifts uncomfortably, it’s the first time she realizes she may also be carrying some psychological scarring from them tossing her into Annie’s cell. That maybe she isn’t quite ready to look Annie in the eye after she also saw that tape. “Won’t the sight of me be upsetting?”

“Considering you look much better than when you were rescued, it should help,” Finnick offers. His eyes shoot down to his feet, “She said at first she thought they threw a corpse in with her, and once she realized you were alive…it was hard for her to see that on top of everything. The amount of pain you were in.”

“Yeah, torture has a way of making people ugly and unrecognizable,” she emptily jokes as the image of Ashford in his last moments settles in her mind. A deeper corner of her mind wonders what it was like for Virginia when she saw Johanna.

“No, I’m saying that your improvement alone should do a lot of groundwork to keep her steady,” he says. “Maybe just dial your Johanna jokes down a notch or two.”

“I guess I can compromise on that,” she says with a dramatic huff.

Finnick chuckles lightly and shakes his head, “It’s weird this is technically the first time you’re really meeting.”

“Yet I know so much about her,” Johanna jokes.

“You don’t have to sound so creepy with it,” he teases.

Johanna chuckles.

Finnick grins at her brightly and then pats her on the shoulder as his expression sobers, “And hey, I should’ve asked about Virginia. I realize how much worse it probably felt after you told me what you found out.”

“It’s fine, she’s a bit of a minefield in my own mind,” Johanna dismisses. “Another person bringing it up is hard enough as is. It’s not like I’m in eager to talk about any of it.”

“Especially with your morphling doses going down, that will make anyone crotchety.”

Technically her dosage is still going down, but not nearly as fast as the doctors think.

Since there’s very little morphling in her system she feels the guilt full force. It swallows her like that mud pit in her first arena.

“I wish they didn’t give me the stuff,” Johanna admits honestly. “Getting off this shit is worse than if I sat in a bunch of pain after my surgery.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get through it,” he offers. “You always do.”

---

Johanna’s first impression about Annie is a bit of – what’s the big deal?

Annie doesn’t talk much and either she’s still too unstable to laugh at anything or she has zero sense of humor. But Johanna starts sitting with the couple for at least one meal a day. Johanna’s on a learning curve of how to not accidentally set Annie off. Finnick only gets annoyed if she brings up anything from her torture since that automatically sets Annie off.

But it was Johanna who faced endless electrocution, a shit ton of waterboarding, being whipped, beaten, and nearly starved to death, not Annie. If Johanna needs to joke about it to survive what she endured, then that is what she needs to do.

Still, Johanna tries to remind herself to be less of a raging, judgmental bitch, Annie’s basically insane for a reason too. She went through an arena too. And not everybody is as lucky as Johanna to only grow funnier from every awful thing she endures.

Johanna’s sense of humor isn’t for everyone after all, but she isn’t going to completely censor herself for anyone.

---

One day her morning physical therapy appointment is replaced with a short, careful walk with Finnick above ground. Johanna doesn’t know if they’re doing it for her since Katniss has been given this privilege or maybe because her head doctors finally realized that somebody who lived in lush forests her whole life may not thrive in a white tiled hole in the ground.

It feels like the first full free breath she’s taken since she first woke up with the implants removed from her body.

And it feels like the first clean, fresh breath she has taken since she was taken from District 7 months ago.

She didn’t know missing home could hurt even more than it already did.

“Did you get laid this morning or something? Why are you so smiley?” Johanna asks Finnick after their first lap.

“Shut up,” Finnick rolls his eyes and lightly shoves her shoulder with a  chuckle, but his big grin returns. “Annie and I are getting married.”

“Seriously?” Johanna stops in her tracks and smiles excitedly at him.

The happiness exuding off Finnick is enough to even break through all Johanna’s damage as she grins back at him and lightly punches his shoulder, “Congrats.”

And she means it; she is so happy for him. Seeing Finnick with more life than she possibly has ever seen is enough for Johanna’s existence to stop being in some constant state of misery.

Johanna grills him for the gossip about everything just to hear him gush over the details.

She’s so happy about it that it isn’t until hours later that night that she feels the need to dip into Katniss’s morphling supply.

She finds herself actually looking forward to something that doesn’t involve the destruction of the Capitol.

Annie and Finnick being able to get married? She never could’ve imagined something that good could exist in their world.

---

For Coin’s efforts of taking every exciting thing about the wedding and trying to ruin it with boring, gray, blandness, the wedding is pretty perfect.

The first time Finnick even leaves Annie’s side is to come over beside Johanna.

“Hey, how are you?”

The concern in his voice is palpable and for his sake she rolls her eyes and waves a hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about me,” Johanna replies.

When Finnick tries to reply, she tuts at him and steps closer to tighten his tie and fix his slightly askew collar, “It’s your big day, that’s all that matters. Now go be with your hot wife. Just tell her I said congrats to you both.”

Finnick smiles dumbly at the word wife and bids her goodbye before he immediately returns to Annie.

Even today, arguably the best and biggest day of Finnick’s life, he still took time to check on Johanna. Because in these few days leading up to the wedding, Johanna needed to dip into Katniss’s morphling supply for one reason only.

To suppress one single thought – the last wedding Johanna went to was her brother’s.

What’s the saying, again? Nothing brings people together like funerals and weddings.

In the six years between weddings, Johanna has attended countless funerals. For literally everyone.

And while Finnick and Annie’s joy is borderline sappy with how palpable it is, Johanna just sees River every time she blinks.

He had similar levels of joy on his own wedding day. She can still remember her brother’s goofy, dumb smile and his tears at his wife in a simple white dress. There wasn’t much going on in River’s head, Katherine and Johanna always joked that out of the twins that Willow absorbed all the smarts in the womb, but nobody could question how happy and in love he was that day.

It’s hard, really damn hard, to not let herself think about how that brainless head of his was knocked clean off. River died quickly, but Johanna knows it is the death of a loved one she is most thankful to have not witnessed.

Johanna watches from the edge of the dance floor after she pinches Katniss’s arm and asks if she is going to miss the chance for Snow to see her dancing. And as Katniss takes to the dance floor with everyone else, Johanna almost feels something weird and proud. Like Katniss’s victory is being rubbed right into Snow’s face.

Despite the lively nature of everyone joining in on the dancing, Johanna remains at the sidelines. All she can manage right now is to just watch it.

As Finnick twirls Annie and Johanna appreciates the embroidery of the dress, she wonders whatever came of her sister-in-law. Johanna sent her a month of her winnings after River died, but then she got swept up in the rest of the tragedies that followed his death. Also, Johanna was just hoping their connection of marriage being gone with River’s death could’ve protected her, so it wasn’t like she was eager to ever reach back out.

Even though she probably should’ve done that for River. But maybe keeping her distance was the best thing.

Still…chances are she’s dead. Just like River. Just like everyone else.

And if she wasn’t dead, she was probably killed for Johanna’s role in the rebel plot. Or she probably has died in the war.

The joy in the room all becomes too much.

Johanna leaves the wedding early.

Because only being able to think of River comes the thoughts of every other sibling like dominoes. And Finnick knew how this was the first wedding Johanna attended since River’s it’s why he stopped to check on  her. So she doesn’t waste the energy on trying to find him and say goodbye.

He knows she is happy for them, but her grief can only keep her present so long.

Katniss and Johanna’s hospital room is still and silent upon her return.

There’s no morphling for her to take. And there wasn’t even alcohol to be provided at the wedding. Even Johanna’s piece of shit dad brought out his homebrewed black market beer on River’s wedding day. That was the first night Johanna ever got truly drunk. Daisy and Johanna shared the bottle and stupidly danced at the celebration.

And they’re all just dead now.

Sometimes it is still so hard to wrap her head around – her whole family being dead and also the person she used to be.

The only thing that keeps her from further spiraling is the reminder of how Plutarch’s propo is going to be such beautiful mocking towards Snow. The reason she has lived all these years…it’s coming to fruition.

Willow – whom Johanna basically never lets herself grieve since she was the one to tell Johanna to finally stop complying with Snow – told Johanna to at least outlive him, to not let all the loss break her and to try to destroy him.

She can finally see it happen. She can take part in bringing the Capitol down.

Then maybe she can just die too, because in the back of her mind she thinks of her other sister’s words. Her sister who was her best friend and almost twin, the sister who when she died a part of Johanna died permanently, the person she still can’t live without…she’d be disgusted with Johanna.

Katherine’s words from that night in the tree almost three years ago are still crisp and loud in Johanna’s skull.

The plea to not turn into their father.

And Johanna has.

For the last week or so she has literally been stealing drugs from a kid who needs it.

How different is that from her dad who stole money and tesserae from his family for himself to brew his own poison?

This is probably even worse, because she knew better. She knew better from Katherine’s words and from Archer’s advice shortly after she won her games about addiction.

But through it all, the giant amount of precaution she took didn’t matter.

And now she is too broken to try and fix it.

She shifts around on her bed, eager for Katniss’s return when they hook up her morphling drip so Johanna can dip into it.

That way she won’t have to think about it – turning into her dad, River being decapitated, probably disappointing all her dead siblings, what might be happening to Virginia, how grimy she always feels – she can forget and maybe even sleep.

If she is lucky.

Notes:

i know this chapter was also a huge bummer, but I hope it was a little less miserable than the last few. If it provides any hope next chapter is the last chapter of Part 1 - The Prisoner. It's not like Part 2 will start off peachy, but it is a transformative part.

Also yay, Finnick and Johanna are back! And the iconic roomie arc is coming up. I still have a lot of Chapter 7 to write, but i am hoping the update will still be within the usual reasonable range :)

HUGE thanks for reading! Also a serious thank you to those who leave comments and kudos, it has been tough writing this part so it means a ton!

Up next in Chapter 7: Katniss turns out to be not so bad after all as they both suffer through training together. Sobriety is forced upon Johanna. And she exists like a machine, determined to join the invasion of the Capitol.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Summary:

The iconic Katniss & Johanna roommate arc.

TW: addiction, withdrawal, PTSD

Betrayal.

That’s what Johanna first feels when Haymitch delivers the news to her and Katniss in their hospital room.

Katniss is already careening out of the bed and racing towards wherever she is entitled to have the run of this place. Haymitch rushes out after her, but only after calling in Johanna’s medical team when she starts yanking tubes and wires off her.

She’s spitting mad, cursing at every single medical staff member that swarms in. But Johanna manages to not swing at them and avoid being sedated for her anger.

Once she is alone in her room she huffs and angrily paces across the length of the room.

This is bullshit.

She’s been through two arenas, was brutally tortured by the Capitol, was modified without her consent, sold to the highest bidder, and had everyone she ever loved killed off.

If anyone deserved to go to the invasion of the Capitol, it was fucking Johanna Mason.

She has lived for years with her only goal to burn that place to the ground and to destroy the weaselly man who took everything from her.

District 13 just sucks, clearly.

Are they going to keep every victor here on a tight leash so they can continue exploiting them however that gray bitch Coin sees fit?

Johanna refuses to hide in this hole in the ground away from the fight. The rebels made her sit out in the uprising attempt in District 7 last year, she isn’t going to let them keep controlling her every move. She needs to kill and destroy every person who is responsible for the gigantic grave plot full of bodies in her home she can’t even return to.

It’s also her only chance to get any answer about Virginia or any way to try to help her.

Johanna refuses to be sidelined.

When Katniss returns to their room about ten minutes later she finds Johanna pacing, loudly swearing at herself and sounding outright violent. Shockingly, Katniss boldly walks into their room, not flinching at Johanna’s belligerent state.

Katniss evenly explains her conversation she just had with Coin, “There’s three weeks to train and then they may reconsider. Maybe you can train too.”

“Fine, I’ll train. But I’m going to the stinking Capitol if I have to kill a crew and fly there myself,” Johanna says.

“Probably best not to bring that up in training,” Katniss responds. “But it’s nice to know I’ll have a ride.”

This brings a genuine grin to Johanna’s face, because maybe Katniss Everdeen isn’t as much of a judgmental drag as she thought.

No, it almost feels like Katniss finally understands Johanna a bit better.

Like this time around, they are actual allies in this together.

---

“Oh, cool they’re just placating and mocking us,” Johanna growls when the pair show up to training at 0730 and are funneled into a class of beginning fucking fourteen-year-olds.

Even Katniss is scowling in a similar state of anger that these idiots think so little of them.

They are both fucking victors. Not even run of the mill victors, they are victors who have survived two damn arenas. Is this how little District 13 thinks of them both? Johanna bets half these pathetic children around her couldn’t handle the caliber of training the rebels had her do before the Quarter Quell.

Reality slams into both Johanna and Katniss like a sledgehammer almost comically fast. Probably under a full minute they both realize they are both battered and weakened, easily the weakest in this class of children.

When they begin stretching and even that makes Johanna almost see stars, she regrets not listening closer to her doctors this morning before training about what issues she should expect. The exercises that follow are just a cruel reminder of the sheer level of strength Johanna has lost.

It feels pathetic, not even half a year ago, Johanna was at her physical peak. Now she is the weakest and probably skinniest since she was before her games.

But if Johanna could survive what she has, she will survive this.

Mind over matter.

If she survived almost being shocked to a crisp for months, she can do some dumb military drills for these gray brainwashed masses.

But the five mile run to wrap up the day is what kills. Considering the two times Johanna has run since she was rescued she could barely make it down a hallway before being bent at a ninety degree angle to try and breathe, this is almost impossible.

Johanna uses her spare breaths to degrade and insult both herself and Katniss as motivation. It keeps Katniss with her for longer than she thought, but she is still pissed the Katniss drops out only a mile in.

But Johanna’s anger and determination keeps her going probably much further than any of her doctors would’ve thought she’d be able.

As Johanna finishes possibly the slowest five mile run in history, the brainwashed, militaristic brats training with her think it is motivating to finish the last mile long lap running with Johanna. As if the fact that she is finishing her run almost an half hour after the other kids isn’t embarrassing enough, this is just downright mocking.

If she had any energy left in her body she would use it to either tear each of these personality-less brats to shreds with her words or give them all wedgies – since killing them won’t help her odds to join the invasion.

The person in charge of the training, a strict woman named Soldier York gives Johanna a look that almost seems surprised that she managed to finish the run. She even stops Johanna on her way out after they are all dismissed.

“Soldier, make sure to tell your doctors you completed that run,” she instructs.

“Why? Because they couldn’t think I could do it?” Johanna mockingly challenges.

“Physically you should not have been able to,” Soldier York stiffly responds. “They need to know so your meals can be adjusted in calories since you are still incredibly underweight.”

“What an honor to be underestimated,” Johanna huffs. “That’s nothing new, anything else?”

“Keep your tone in check, Soldier,” she says with a nod. “See you tomorrow.”

Johanna has a feeling if she didn’t defy odds by finishing that run that her backtalk would’ve had her being relegated to doing a bunch of pushups or another long run in punishment. But she catches Soldier York’s eye as she leaves and for all District 13’s militaristic bullshit, it’s clear there is a baseline respect they have for Johanna’s grit for everything she has survived. Good, maybe that will help secure her spot in the invasion.

---

“I’m so sorry, Johanna,” Katniss grits through her teeth when Johanna returns from training. “They had to get rid of the drip for the procedure on my ribs.”

“It’s fine,” Johanna says. “It had to happen anyway.”

Johanna immediately feels almost a gnawing anxious hunger at the reality that no drip will come. That no relief will hit her.

Time will only tick forward at half speed from the empty need for the drug, but because of the growing withdrawal symptoms.

She thinks this is one of her worst nights in a prison since they nearly killed her for the pocket stunt. It was almost easier then, because she didn’t have any relief to long to return back to and she wanted to die. This is worse, because every bit of agony, hunger, and pain is her own body eating away at itself and revolting.

The sweating comes first and it only makes the loose rubber bands holding her mind together strain.

Johanna almost passes out when she stumbles into the shared bathroom to grab a towel to keep wiping away at the sweat pouring from her body.

The shaking is uncontrollable and Katniss’s groaning at her ribs is what makes the vitriol fly off Johanna’s tongue.

“You fucking weak bitch, couldn’t handle bruised fucking ribs,” Johanna seethes aggressively after what feels like days pass, but the clock on the wall shows it is just past three in the morning. Her nails that have grime caked beneath them have layers and layers of her skin wedged beneath them from her scratching. It is like the veins in her arms are itching and burning, screaming for the drug they need but won’t get.

“S-sorry.”

“You mean nothing, your apologies mean nothing.” Johanna spits.

“I know,” Katniss tries to placatingly reply, softly through her own sweat soaked face and gritted teeth, agony soaking her every word. Thankfully she isn’t taking it personally, like she can likely understand that Johanna would probably cuss out a chair like this if Katniss wasn’t present.

“You are a weak, awful, boring fucking brat,” Johanna screeches.

The inside of her body turns like a hot, molten cramp and she is bursting from her bed to make it into the bathroom in time.

For several hot waves roiling through her digestive system, Johanna doesn’t know if she should sit on the toilet or kneel in front of it.

Ultimately her body revolts in the way that she ends up seated on the toilet while vomiting into a waste basket on her lap.

Fire burns through her entire body until she feels like she pukes and shits out any working parts of her brain and other organs.

Johanna needs to grip tightly on the sink beside the toilet to get up.

Despite her hydrophobia, Johanna flips on the taps, washes her hands, and continuously wipes wet handfuls of water down her sweat soaked face and on her neck.

It offers the tiniest sliver of relief from the cool water on her sweltering skin.

She yanks her gray top off to wipe at her soaked face, neck, head, and chest. The soaked garment falls with a thump to the tiled floor. Her shaking hands try to grip away the pain in her body by white knuckling the sides of the sink. She vomits up more bile while watching the remaining water circle down the drain.

“Fuck,” she hisses out in agony as all her sweat rapidly flips into awful, bone-deep chills.

She needs it so bad.

Johanna squints under the awful light to try and glare at her awful reflection to remind herself that she is falling apart because of the morphling.

But Johanna can’t quell the thick desperate scream she breathes out at the sight of him.

He is standing right behind her in that mirror. Towering over her shrunken form, similar hate to the last time she ever saw him in his eyes.

But bright blue eyes that are bloodshot with a similar level of strung out agony in her own brown eyes meet hers. It looks so real.

It’s her grimy father strung out in a state of withdrawal.

And the hatred and tweaking for her drug makes her look exactly like him, even though Johanna was nearly identical to her mother.

It’s the thought that plagued her since she first took Katniss’s morphling drip – she is her father.

“So much for always being better than me,” his voice is crystal clear in her ear.

She pinches her eyes shut and rapidly shakes her head. But she can almost smell the booze on his breath, “Not real. Not real.”

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” he smugly slurs.

“Shut up!” she screeches desperately and flings her eyes open. The image of her dad is perfectly clear in that mirror still. “You’re dead, you piece of shit.”

“Because of you.”

“Shut up!” She screams again and her weak shaky fist tries to strike at his awful face in the mirror.

Her punch is too weak to crack the glass let alone even hurt her knuckles.

“Johanna,” Katniss’s voice softly calls out on the opposite side of the door. “Are you okay?”

“Obviously, fucking not, you idiot!” Johanna looks over to glare at the door being knocked on.

Johanna glances back at the mirror and her dad is no longer there, unless if you count her own reflection.

After a few minutes, she shuffles out the door and Katniss is staring at her with a mix of pity and pain from her bed.

“Look at me like that again and I’ll yank your braid off your head, fucker,” she hisses out as another rapid wave of uncontrollably feeling like her body is melting overtakes the chills.

Once she settles on top of her sheets, her legs restlessly shove the blankets up and down the bed.

Her body is empty, she has no energy, yet sleep cannot come. Not when her nerves are on fire. She tosses and turns relentlessly, cussing Katniss out in waves throughout the night. She can’t even control it or try to stop. It’s just because Katniss is there and her awful, revolting insides make her need to lash out at whatever is nearest.

Katniss doesn’t sleep either, but her struggles with her burning ribs is a silent endeavor. She takes Johanna’s insults in stride as they both silently suffer beside each other throughout the night.

It’s an endless night for both of them.

Johanna isn’t sure the symptoms of withdrawal will alleviate in any way.

But just like how she survives anything, she survives this. Dawn comes and the worst waves of the withdrawal are over.

She still is weak, clammy, nauseous, and actively thirsting for the drug when it is time for the struggling pair to go to training.

Johanna legitimately has to drag Katniss out of bed.

“I don’t think I can do it,” Katniss grunts.

“You can do it. We both can. We’re victors, remember? We’re the ones who can survive anything they throw at us,” Johanna snarls brashly as if her skin isn’t almost green and like she isn’t shaking uncontrollably.

And they must be able to do anything from how they both manage to drag themselves to training.

Johanna doesn’t know if her withdrawal is somehow less severe than usual morphling withdrawal since despite her stealing Katniss’s drip it was still less than her earliest doses, more like a slower, inconsistent weaning. Because it feels so impossible to train and she isn’t certain a person in active withdrawal could manage this. Then again Johanna is different than most, maybe she can barely manage this because she has survived the impossible many times and is probably the stubbornest person in Panem.

All she knows is that just existing and walking to training feels so awful that every single movement has her fighting to not vomit. She has no clue how she will handle exercise.

Pouring rain is awaiting her outside, Johanna knows she will have to spend hours in it training and running five miles.

She thinks it will be the hardest thing she’s ever done.  

All her feelings of withdrawal evaporate in favor of her body reacting viscerally.

Every cell in Johanna’s body stills and tenses.

Her lungs simply stop working, as if they’ve been flooded with water again.

Her skin is soaked with sweat which she had decently ignored until now, but that sweat on her skin is dry compared to the torrential downpour she will have to expose herself to.

When Katniss tells her it’s just water, Johanna would probably murder her right there if she wasn’t so stiff and frozen. It’s like her body is mid contortion from being shocked as she forces herself to stomp into the frigid, constant downpour.

She degrades both herself and Katniss aloud to keep them both going.

Running her mouth has always helped her. And it helps her slightly ignore how she can feel each individual rain drop leaving a trail of burning acid in its wake on her skin.

Just like yesterday, Katniss can’t keep running because of her ribs. And just like yesterday, Johanna tries to keep her going.

“Don’t you dare be a little bitch,” Johanna hisses when Katniss is wheezing and painfully pawing at her ribs.

“I-I can’t-“

Johanna huffs and doesn’t let herself stop running.

If she stops running she will realize her socks are soaking wet and squish with every step. It may be enough to scramble her brain enough to never return.

Somehow, she finishes the run.

The cherry on top of this awfulness is the fucking lunch they are served during training – fish stew. Something nasty, stinky, and awful enough to choke down on its own when her entire body isn’t failing. But with her gag reflex trying to fight the stuff up, she is honestly surprised she makes it halfway through the meal before vomiting her stew all back in the bowl. It’s such crappy food it doesn’t look any different than it did before she vomited the shit.

Somehow she keeps moving.

By some impossible feat of stubbornness, Johanna thinks she will make it through the day.

In the afternoon they learn to assemble their guns, and her hand tremors from the nerve damage from her electrocution seem like she was steady enough to be a surgeon compared to how her hands shake now.

A pathetic addict too weak to assemble a gun.

Johanna tries not to lose her temper at herself and this gun, but she can almost feel a gnawing panic in her chest that if she keeps shaking like this and can’t assemble it she’ll get kicked out of training.

She hates being pitied, but maybe it isn’t necessarily that when Katniss reaches over and helps Johanna assemble her gun when Soldier York has her back to them.

Maybe it is just Katniss and Johanna still looking out for each other like yesterday how Johanna was motivating insults to them both and dragged Katniss out of their room this morning despite her own trembling body. She doesn’t bother thanking Katniss for it, the kid knows she’s grateful from how pathetic Johanna is right now.

By the end of the day on the shooting range, Katniss is the top of the class and Johanna is in the middle of the pack. She only hopes that as the withdrawal shakes improve she will move up in the ranking.

“This has to stop, us living in the hospital. Everyone views us as patients,” Johanna announces when she and Katniss cross the threshold into the hospital later that night. She’s sick of being treated like a patient, and she impatiently tracks down her doctors to demand to be discharged and assigned a room.

The shithole that is District 13 only becomes more of a prison when her doctors refuse to let her leave even when she barters that she will come in for daily head doctor appointments. And Johanna hates this, she still has no agency and will always be a patient here. They claim she is still too unstable to live alone and she goads them into giving her examples, but they can’t outside her abrasiveness. Several of her doctors make not so subtely veiled comments that they think she has a morphling addiction, but she’s already detoxed the worst of it so what do they really think she can get up to?

“She won’t be alone. I’m going to room with her,” Katniss boldly announces when Johanna is panting and holding out her arms in exhaustion at her doctors not relenting.

Johanna glances over to her, poorly concealing her shock.

Of course, the doctors dissent. Haymitch – who was in their room – advocates for them and Asterid is paged. Asterid agrees to checking in on the girls twice a day and vouches for trusting Johanna with Katniss.

And by bedtime, Johanna has been assigned a room across the hall from Asterid and Prim with Katniss as a roommate.

Katniss is the only thing that kept Johanna from being tried like a criminal for being tortured upon her rescue. And now Katniss is the only thing that got Johanna discharged from their oppressive hospital.

It’s a bleak realization that Johanna is now one of the helpless that Katniss is so damn insistent upon protecting.

For some reason it doesn’t make her feel pitied or aggravated like she expected, and maybe it’s because Katniss is one of the first people to not expect anything in return for her kindness.

It still shocks Johanna since Katniss does not hide that she is still, to some degree, incredibly intimidated by Johanna.

There’s a weird feeling about it all in her mind that is finally starting to unscramble a bit that she is so preoccupied in thought she doesn’t even get irritated at Katniss poorly concealing her disgust that Johanna basically gave herself a sponge bath rather than showering.

She exits the bathroom and stares at this bleak little room.

Her new home apparently.

It’s the first time she’s shared a living space with someone in years so it’s less lonely than her old home, but it feels so lifeless and empty.

Johanna inspects the place and upon opening a drawer reveals a smattering of Katniss’s personal items she reflexively slams it shut, feeling like it is almost snooping, “Sorry.”

Katniss looks at her for a moment before responding, “It’s okay, you can look at my stuff if you want.”

Desperate for any form of entertainment here, Johanna curiously reopens the drawer. Johanna switches open the locket and studies the pictures of Katniss’s mom, sister, and “cousin.” She tamps down a sarcastic remark about Gale and just opens up the silver parachute and finds the spile from the arena.

She slips it onto her pinky, “Makes me thirsty just looking at it.”

Then something more sobering hits her at the sight of the pearl sitting center in the parachute, “Is this-“

“Yeah,” Katniss rasps sadly. “Made it through somehow.”

Johanna risks a glance at Katniss and realizes that she may have misjudged her. Because Katniss wears her broken heart front and center on her face. Johanna can practically see the curtains in Katniss’s mind at the mere mention of Peeta.

For someone who always speaks what they’re thinking with bluntness that borders on being crass, even Johanna has enough sympathy left in her to not blurt out her observation – oh, Katniss does love him and she’s grieving him like he’s dead.

The idea of mentioning her sole visit with Peeta surfaces, but Johanna decides against mentioning it. It’s hard for Johanna to even talk about, but also she knows anything she can offer to Katniss about that conversation wouldn’t provide any comfort. And even though Johanna told Haymitch she could no longer visit Peeta like that again, she still bugs Haymitch for updates on Peeta every day.

“Haymitch says he’s getting better,” Johanna says.

“Maybe, but he’s changed.”

“So have you. So have I. And Finnick. And Haymitch. And Beetee,” Johanna responds and fights the urge to laugh at the most obvious changed victor, “Don’t get me started on Annie Cresta. The arena messed us all up pretty good, don’t you think? Or do you still feel like the girl who volunteered for your sister?”

“No,” Katniss answers.

“That’s the one thing I think my head doctor might be right about. There is no going back, so we might as well get on with things,” Johanna says and neatly returns the items back to their designated spot in the drawer.

The lights in their room automatically turn off as Johanna climbs into the bed parallel from Katniss. She looks over at Katniss’s shadow in the total darkness, and she can still feel Katniss’s trepidation and slight fear of Johanna radiating off her.

“You’re not afraid I’ll kill you tonight?” Johanna asks.

“Like I couldn’t take you,” Katniss answers.

They both share a broken laugh from their destroyed bodies.

And while their night twenty-four hours ago seemed like endless torture, tonight improves.

With each day that passes both girls improve. They get up, they train like machines, and their bodies get less miserable.

By the end of the week most of the withdrawal symptoms are gone and Johanna doesn’t even need Katniss’s help assembling her rifle. And Katniss’s ribs seem to be almost back to normal.

Soldier York gives them both an approving nod as they both knock off for the day, “Fine job, soldiers.”

“I think winning the games was easier,” Johanna mutters when they’re out of earshot. But considering she was hallucinating her shitty dad and basically rabid like an animal for a drug only a week ago and being able to train like a soldier and excel at it makes her annoyingly proud of herself.

And Johanna is annoyingly growing to see the whole point around Katniss Everdeen, and it seems Katniss is less scared of her.

She even has Katniss chuckling at a joke by the time they arrive at the dining hall.

Johanna doesn’t hide how she sobers and glares a bit at Gale awaiting Katniss in line. He hovers a lot, and Johanna doesn’t like something about him that she can’t place. Maybe it is the parts of her that still feel protective over Peeta from their time in captivity together. Also, it feels like she’s a gross third wheel in line.

But her stomach is excitedly gurgling when she is served a giant bowl of beef stew. It’s the first meal that she is excited for and knows will taste good since before the Quell.

“Ah my favorite married couple,” Johanna greets as she plops down in an empty seat next to Annie.

“Hey Jo,” Finnick greets. His eyes track Katniss and Gale as they sit parallel from Johanna, “Having fun schooling those little fourteen-year-olds in training.”

Johanna chuckles while rolling her eyes, “Annie, duck.”

Annie doesn’t move fast enough but Johanna reaches behind her to punch Finnick’s shoulder jokingly.

“We are for your information,” Johanna says. “Our little Mockingjay especially. She’s shooting us all out of oblivion.”

“Did you just compliment Katniss? Are they brainwashing you in training?” Finnick jokingly teases while lowering his voice as if this is a conspiracy.

It has the whole table in laughter. She’s been sitting with Finnick and Annie almost for every meal since she was finally assigned a room, even if that means also sitting with Delly, one of Peeta’s old friends from District 12, who has an annoying voice.

Johanna has already scarfed down over half her meal, just enjoying it as Finnick charmingly commands the table as he tells a story.

“I call bullshit,” Johanna teases as she swallows a large spoonful. “Aren’t sea turtles almost extinct? You managed to run into one of the like eight left in existence and it stole your new hat?”

“Yes, Johanna. It did,” he smirks at her and rolls his eyes. “I was thirteen, taking a break, enjoying my new hat I saved up for, and tried petting it when it swam up beside our boat. Then I was robbed and hatless. Worst part of it all – the turtle didn’t even put the hat on it just swam off with it.”

“Tragic,” Johanna chuckles against her spoon.

The whole table is in good spirits laughing at Finnick’s story, but Johanna notices Katniss’s expression sobers and her laughter dries out immediately as her eyes fix right beside Johanna.

Johanna tracks her eyes and sees Peeta standing behind her with two large guards on his sides. He is awkwardly holding his tray while his wrists are still cuffed together. He looks leaps and bounds better since Johanna last saw him a few weeks ago, but he’s still thin and is fighting a lost and angry look in his eyes.

Peeta just watches Katniss, and Johanna even feels Katniss’s discomfort.

“Peeta! It’s so nice to see you out and about,” Delly pipes up.

“What’s with the fancy bracelets?” Johanna greets sarcastically.

“I’m not quite trustworthy yet,” Peeta responds without taking his eyes off Katniss. “I can’t even sit here without your permission.”

“Sure, he can sit here. We’re old friends,” Johanna responds and pats the empty seat beside her. She looks back at the table and explains as Peeta settles in beside her, “Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the Capitol. We’re very familiar with each other’s screams.”

Annie automatically crumbles like a tower of blocks, covering her ears and swallowing in on herself.

Finnick gives Johanna an angry look as he wraps an arm around his incredibly fragile wife.

“What? My head doctor said I’m not supposed to censor my thoughts. It’s part of my therapy,” Johanna dismisses.

All the joy at the table is sucked out of the air. As Finnick murmurs to Annie, Johanna can’t tell if it is her fault, Peeta’s, or both of theirs for the mood being ruined.

Johanna just wanted to make some lighthearted humor to provide context for her new little roommate on why Johanna would invite Peeta to sit with them. She just wanted Katniss to know Johanna wasn’t actually being spiteful or bitchy by inviting him to join them.

Silence blankets the table, and Johanna rolls her eyes when Annie finally rejoins reality.

“Annie, did you know it was Peeta who decorated your wedding cake?” Delly awkwardly offers. “Back home his family ran the bakery, and he did all the icing.”

Annie looks across Johanna like she is a live bomb to tentatively regard Peeta, “Thank you, Peeta. It was beautiful.”

“My pleasure, Annie,” Peeta gently responds. He sounds so different from Johanna’s many last times she heard his voice, almost like himself.

“If we’re going to fit in that walk, we better go,” Finnick says to Annie. He stacks their trays together to carry in one hand while holding Annie’s in his other. “Good seeing you, Peeta.”

“You be nice to her, Finnick. Or I might try and take her away from you,” Peeta coldly responds.

He sounds almost the exact same from when Johanna visited him and he misread her joke and thought she was flirting. It immediately raises Johanna’s hackles even worse now than when the kid was trying to picture her naked. Not for Annie’s sake, but for Finnick. The open distrust of Finnick, talking about Annie like she isn’t even a person with choice, like Annie would downgrade so easily from Finnick. It’s all wrong.

And shockingly a big part of Johanna can feel her hackles raising for Katniss. How Peeta is being a big enough ass to say shit like that in front of her as if she doesn’t exist.

“Oh, Peeta. Don’t make me sorry I restarted your heart,” Finnick says lightly and gives Katniss a concerned glance.

It isn’t until Annie and Finnick are gone that Delly reproachfully says, “He did save your life, Peeta! More than once.”

“For her,” Peeta dismisses and nods briefly at Katniss. “For the rebellion. Not for me. I don’t owe him anything.”

He sounds so much unlike himself because he almost sounds like Johanna – bitter for being disposable, a piece to support the dear Mockingjay. She begins to realize that the version she saw of Peeta while visiting was probably way less vile because Katniss wasn’t around.

This is the first time Johanna sees the depths of Peeta’s brainwashing when he is in front of Katniss.

“Maybe not,” Katniss argues. “But Mags is dead. And you’re still here. That should count for something.”

Johanna finds herself thinking more highly of Katniss for not forgetting Mags. For not forgetting what she meant to Finnick. The rebels treated everyone like pawns to keep Katniss alive, but at least Katniss remembers them.

“Yeah, a lot of things should count for something that don’t seem to, Katniss. I’ve got some memories I can’t make sense of, and I don’t think the Capitol touched them,” Peeta says. “A lot of nights on the train for instance.”

And Johanna fights off a chaotic smirk.

It now feels like she is being treated to lunch and a show. Her eyes bounce between them and take in the entertainment. She almost feels a nosy need to ask Katniss how far she must’ve gone with bread boy on the train, but even Johanna can tell it is not the time.

Peeta gestures with his spoon, drawing a line between Katniss and Gale, “So are you two officially a couple now? Or are they still dragging out the star-crossed lover thing?”

“Still dragging,” Johanna answers.

Peeta drops his spoon with a clatter as spasms send his hands into fists. He splays out his hands like he can’t even control them, like he’s fighting something in his brain.

More of Gale’s annoyingness shows here, because Johanna can see him stiffening as if he needs to protect Katniss from some fake confrontation that won’t happen.

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself,” Gale says rather than starting anything.

“What’s that?” Peeta asks.

“You,” Gale answers.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific,” Peeta says. “What about me?”

Before it can turn into some misogynistic show for Katniss’s honor that she knows Gale might turn it into, Johanna runs her mouth and listens to her doctors, not censoring a damn thought. Katniss has stuck her neck out for Johanna in this prison, this is the least Johanna owes her. Maybe Johanna’s impact on getting through to Peeta will make him realize how awful he is being.

“That they’ve replaced you with the evil mutt version of yourself,” Johanna says.

Gale finishes his milk, slamming it on the tray and glancing to Katniss, “You done?”

Katniss rises and practically races out of there with her roll still clenched in her hand.

“And then there were three,” Johanna mutters over her spoon.

“You aren’t being fair to her, Peeta!” Delly argues as soon as Katniss leaves the room. “You’re taking out what the Capitol did to you on her.”

“She used me,” Peeta argues.

Delly’s voice ramps up another squeaky octave, “No, she didn’t! None of this is Katniss’s fault. You’re punishing her. I can’t even recognize you at times, how cruel you’ve become.”

Johanna feels tempted to cover her ears that are nearly going deaf from Delly’s squeaking.

The rest of the dining hall seems to have joined Johanna in watching the entertainment – commotion – at the table.

Peeta tries to argue with Delly, but then his hands spasm again and he starts arguing with himself. It’s like when they were brainwashing him, how his words would overlap and he’d argue like two people.

When he gets so agitated, the guards reach down to grip his biceps to yank him away. Johanna slyly swaps out her empty bowl for Peeta’s nearly full bowl of stew onto her tray.

After the commotion dies down, it leaves just Delly and Johanna at their table. Johanna just scarfs Peeta’s stew down in case anyone notices she took it.

“I’m sorry for losing my temper,” Delly quietly voices and glares at her bowl.

Johanna snorts, “I’m the last person to apologize to about your temper.”

“Can I ask you something, Johanna?” Delly softly asks about five minutes later when Johanna is wiping at her mouth with a napkin.

Johanna nods.

“How fast did he…”

“Get turned into a mutt version of himself?”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yeah,” Delly softly says.

“He fought it for a while,” Johanna bluntly states. “I tried to help him; I didn’t just leave your friend out to dry.”

“I know, Haymitch told me a bit about how you and Peeta tried to look out for each other in there.”

Johanna feels herself detaching as if she is explaining this to a head doctor, “The amount they injected him with would make him so agitated. For so, so long.”

Her pauses to shakily inhale is clear and audible from the dead silence in the air.

“They basically had to destroy him to make him like that.”

Delly whimpers and glares down at the table, afraid to show that she is almost in tears.

“He was good for a while, Delly,” Johanna offers. She imagines if something like this were to happen to Daisy or even Mac or Casey, all her childhood friends which is what Delly was to Peeta. It’s a very tough reality to reconcile with. “He talked to me through the walls since they tortured me so badly. He protected me from handsy guards. He was still Peeta, he just wasn’t indestructible.”

“I know he’s still in there, it’s just hard,” Delly poorly hides the sob that punctuates her sentence.

“I know, they tried to have me visit him.”

“That’s not very fair to you,” Delly immediately responds and looks straight at Johanna. “Seeing him like that means you had to relive it too.”

Johanna snorts, she feels so removed from that visit since she’s thrown herself into training, but she wishes she could have heard something like that weeks ago. Would’ve saved her a lot of pain.

“Well only one of my doctors and me agreed with that. Haymitch basically begged me to do it.”

“He’s worried, but I’m sorry he forgot about what you needed when he asked that,” Delly mumbles. She tosses her own napkin back on her plate. “It was not fair to you, and neither was me asking you stuff now. I’m sorry.”

“No need, he’s your friend and you’re worried. And I meant what I said, he’s my friend too. So yeah, anything for Peeta,” Johanna waves a hand dismissively as she stands up and grabs her tray. “Have a good one, Delly.”

“Thanks, you too.”

---

Johanna plops across the foot of Katniss’s bed when she returns to their room. She props her chin up on her hand and watches Katniss try to poorly focus on her military tactics textbook.

“You missed the best part,” Johanna says. “Delly lost her temper at Peeta over how he treated you. She got very squeaky. It was like someone stabbing a mouse with a fork repeatedly. The whole dining hall was riveted.”

“What did Peeta do?” Katniss asks.

“He started arguing with himself like he was two people. The guards had to take him away. On the good side, no one seemed to notice I finished his stew,” Johanna responds and rubs her hand over her stomach feeling stuffed.

Katniss poorly conceals her disgust as her eyes lock on Johanna’s fingernails that are caked with grime. Johanna waits, almost daring Katniss to say something so Johanna can tell her why she can’t shower.

But Katniss keeps her mouth shut and Johanna retrieves her own textbook to begin making flashcards. The pair spend hours stuffing their heads with this crap and quizzing each other over it.

When they call it quits on studying for the night, Katniss goes across the hall to spend time with her family. Johanna feels the oppressing emptiness in the room and spends about a solid hour scraping at the gunk beneath her fingernails after she gives herself a pathetic sponge bath with a towel.

She just can’t bring herself to shower, not if she is going to keep training like this.

The boring silent room only allows her mind to wander, and with her withdrawal symptoms gone, those thoughts are only sharper and clearer. And all thoughts always circle back to water, her torture, and worrying about Virginia.

Johanna only lets that eat away at her for five minutes before deciding to busy herself with studying more. She’s reading the dry textbook, finding herself chapters ahead when Katniss returns to their room for the night.

When they both lay in their beds in the complete darkness, Katniss’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Johanna, could you really hear him screaming?”

“That was part of it,” Johanna answers. “Like the jabberjays in the arena. Only it was real, and it didn’t stop after an hour. Tick tock.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss painfully whispers.

It’s like a twisted form of saying goodnight as they both fall into their respective fitful nightmares.

---

Both Johanna and Katniss throw themselves into training with a vengeance after that. It’s clear they are both training to avoid having to acknowledge and grieve their own things, but neither brings that up. They hold each other accountable and actively become genuine contenders for the war.

They’re moved into an additional class that is labeled SSC on their tattoos, it stands for Simulated Street Combat. But the soldiers refer to it as the Block.

Deep in the bowels of District 13 there is an artificial Capitol city block. With each session they’re split into groups of eight with different missions. It is rigged so everything that can go wrong does. Sometimes it feels too real in there, but Johanna has been made familiar with other simulator rebel technology and constantly reminds herself it isn’t real.

One day they are even gassed while in the middle of a mission, only Johanna and Katniss are the ones who pull on their gas masks in time and the rest of their squad is knocked out cold for ten minutes.

Johanna is eventually grouped into some of the propos being filmed, it seems as if she is less sickening to look at now. Luckily any of Cressida’s crew filming her is when her and Katniss are on the firing range, so Johanna barely even has to do anything. The propos are showing preparation for the invasion of the Capitol, and Johanna is just as confused and upset as Katniss is when Peeta begins training with a group of beginners. He is in no state to be given a gun even if two guards are glued at his side.

Katniss returns to their room later one night huffing and cussing about Plutarch.

“He said the whole country wants to see Peeta, see he’s on our side,” Katniss huffs and begins almost pacing in the small space.

Johanna flips a flashcard and pumps a fist at being right before she acknowledges Katniss, “Yeah, there are other ways to show Peeta is on our side without fucking arming him.”

“Exactly!”

“Well you should know by now that Plutarch is a piece of shit that sees us all as pawns,” Johanna responds. She glares into Katniss’s eyes, “And he is a ray of fucking sunshine compared to Coin and her drones.”

Katniss guffaws a laugh, “Seriously. He could hurt someone, he shouldn’t be given a gun.”

“He could hurt you, our queen chess piece,” Johanna drawls jokingly.

“It feels like that is what they want.”

“Maybe they do,” Johanna says with a simple shrug.

Katniss sighs and plops onto her own bed and opens her own textbook, “That’s not comforting.”

“Well I’m not a comforting person,” Johanna says. “Just being realistic and telling you to watch your back from these people. And you know you’ve got some allies in your corner.”

It’s the closest Johanna has come to admitting to Katniss that she sees her as more than some begrudging ally. They’ve trained together and both want their revenge on the Capitol, so of course Johanna has Katniss’s back.

---

“Soldier Everdeen, Soldier Mason, I’ve recommended you both for the exam,” York announces a few days before the first troops are to move out to secure the train tunnels into the Capitol. “You are both to report immediately.”

Johanna doesn’t even hide her stupid proud smile as both her and Katniss rush to their exam. It is four parts – an obstacle course, a written tactics exam, a test of weapon proficiency, and a simulated combat situation in the Block.

It happens so fast that Johanna soars through the first three parts with ease since all she has done is eat, breathe, and sleep training. She doesn’t have time to develop any nerves until she makes it outside the Block where there is a backlog due to some technical difficulty.

Waiting for that while a line of soldiers all theorize what this test will entail.

Johanna doesn’t partake, just actively eavesdrops on what this will be – an individual test where anything could be thrown at you.

One guy mutters under his breath that he has heard it is meant to target your biggest weakness.

Johanna has a lot of weaknesses that swirl in her mind – a buttload of mental scarring, still underweight, issues with authority, short tempered, an aversion to many noises and water.

She glares at her dirty fingernails and knows what weakness of hers they will target.

Johanna reminds herself she has forced herself to train out in the rain many times in the last three weeks and that she can chug down water during training. If she goes into this aware that everything is fake and that she knows the water is coming, she should do fine.

When Johanna is called, Katniss gives her a firm nod of encouragement.

The nerves dissipate when her examination begins as a certain amount of training kicks in.

At first she thinks they’ve determined Johanna’s weakness as being unable to follow orders, having a short temper, and issues with violent men, since the simulation begins with her troop being led into an ambush.

There is a Peacekeeper without his helmet on. He looks evil, like her dad, goading and slapping around a random civilian woman. Johanna grits her jaw, forcing to hover her finger on the trigger as her squadron leader tells her to hold her fire.

Be ready for the water at any second, Johanna mentally reminds herself as she listens to her moderately incompetent commander.

“He’s going to kill her,” one of her fake soldiers’ voices beside her to argue with their leader. “We have to do something.”

Shockingly the Peacekeeper quickly turns his gun out and shoots the soldier in the head and rapidly turns the gun back on the woman and blows her brains out.

Johanna swears she feels hot blood hitting her face as she dives out of the way before fire is opened on her.

The leader commands them to fight back and gives the coordinates to a meetup point.

Johanna is doing a good job, mowing down Peacekeepers and keeping tight on her leader’s tail. She even saves his fake life from a sniper on a building he didn’t see.

She barely hears the barking encouragement as the gutter to a building above her creaks and breaks perfectly so a giant shoot of water splashes down onto her face. It is with such force that she falls to the ground and drags herself out of it while keeping her eyes shut.

Johanna was expecting the water, she is fine. She is fine.

Her face stings as she squints and tries to wipe at her eyes.

But it’s a burst of water, she rapidly wipes at her face.

Johanna keeps moving, jittery and on edge. A bullet hits another gutter above Johanna and a large chute of water soaks her from head to toe.

“Take cover in the alley, Soldier!” her commander announces.

But the cold water staining her face makes Johanna struggle to make sense of which direction she is to hide in. Every rapid blink is blinded by water that makes her eyeballs itch.

She hears the sound of the whip snapping on her right shoulder inflicting the wound that almost killed her.

“Hurry, Soldier!”

She forgets where she is, all she knows is she needs out of here.

The barked command is followed by a loud cracking noise, like millions of pounds of concrete breaks and shatters.

As the frigid water sweeps out her feet, she realizes it is the sound of a dam breaking.

Her mind sloshes as the wave of water swallows her whole. The chilled shock makes her mind short circuit. She is tossed around from waves that seem taller than the buildings around her.

Her jaw chatters loudly and her hands begin spasming. Johanna barely keeps her head above the constant onslaught of water, but the voice in her ear fades out and becomes something much more sinister.

Frigid water is gulped down into her throat and lungs, she jerks up and tries to get out of it. She knows this means her torturers are about to begin a session.

Johanna can’t handle any more shocks.

Why can’t they just kill her?

She can’t breathe and she is so cold.

Johanna expects to find a rubber mouthguard in her mouth to trip up her words as she screams, “Stop, please!”

The smell of her own sizzling flesh and hair burns her nostrils and her body contorts with the scent. Her skin is soaked, she knows when they pull her out of this tub they will continue shocking her.

She screams before swallowing even more water. Johanna tenses in anticipation and can’t even remember where she is. For so long, she only knew a world of frigid water that made the shocks all the more agonizing and she knows she is back.

Maybe she was never even rescued to begin with.

Maybe this has all been some torture fever dream.

But one fact is true, the Capitol ruined something as simple as water for Johanna and it’s killing her right now.

As the current yanks her under, she hopes to pass out and drown to avoid any other shocks that may follow.

---

Johanna has failed.

It’s the first thing she registers as she fights to yank her heavy eyelids open to escape her repeat nightmare of watching everyone she loved dying in chronological order.

The sedation in her veins is thick and awful, trying to yank her back into her torture. And the beeping of her heart monitor tells her where she is before she can even make out anything other than bright fluorescent light reflecting off white tile.

She is in the awful familiarity of a hospital room, and she begins remembering the Block and how she pathetically almost drowned.

Johanna doesn’t even have the energy to wipe away at her soaked short hair plastered to her forehead.

She has a visitor. It takes two more blinks to distinguish it is Soldier York, she is brief and to the point, expresses her condolences that Johanna did not qualify for the invasion but commends her for her hard work.

A few minutes after Soldier York departs after Johanna gives her a sad nod of affirmation, Finnick knocks lightly on the door and enters.

“Hey, Jo.”

“Hey,” she rasps and glares down at her hands that are uncontrollably shaking like they did when she was in withdrawal.

Finnick doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, he just sits in the chair beside her bed and reaches out to grab her shaking hands. He gives her hand a squeeze four times – their old signal.

It makes Johanna swallow thickly and finally look over at him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I know how badly you wanted to go.”

“I failed, like always,” she huffs.

Finnick smiles sadly and shakes his head, “You didn’t fail. Honestly the fact that you even trained and got to the point of the test was way further than you physically should’ve been able to. It hasn’t even been two months since they were torturing you.”

“I deserved to go, for everyone,” she whispers. But now her vengeance is dead and drowned like a wet rat. It also feels like it is hammering in the nails on Virginia’s coffin, like if Johanna were deployed she somehow would’ve saved her. Johanna knows it is delusional to think she would’ve been the one to do it, but now that isn’t even in the realm of possibility.

“I know, but maybe this means it is time for you to stop fighting,” Finnick offers. “You’ve been through hell for five years, everything you’ve done has fought for this. Even if you aren’t in the invasion, you’ve done so much in fighting to bring down the Capitol.”

“Stop fighting?” Johanna guffaws weakly and suppresses a yawn. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Think about what you want for yourself after the war, after that snake is killed for everything he’s done.”

Johanna’s mind is about as blank as it was when the cold water yanked her under hours ago.

“I don’t even,” Johanna shakes her head. “I don’t know what else my purpose would be, they won’t even have anything of value for me to do here.”

Finnick’s green eyes bounce around the room and then he gives Johanna an easy smile, “Would it help if I give you an idea by asking for a favor?”

“Anything for you, Finnick,” she tiredly mutters, finding no energy to lace the genuine sentiment with sarcasm.

“I only have two people left that I love more than anything,” he begins and swallows. “I know it may seem like you and Annie don’t have much in common, but I think you’d get along better than you think.”

“You want me to take care of your wife?” Johanna asks.

“No, not that,” Finnick corrects. “Just look out for each other, it will make you both stronger.”

“Well does Annie know you’re going to stick her with me while you’re fighting in the Capitol?” Johanna huffs. “She might be scared of that. I always seem to set her off.”

“She won’t be stuck with you,” Finnick corrects. “She thinks really highly of you, I know she seems a bit intimidated by you, but hey, you’re pretty scary – in the best way.”

“Yes, look at how deadly I am right now,” Johanna weakly jokes and holds out her arms, almost feeling tempted to yank her IV out. She knows it isn’t dispensing morphling, but it looks too close and it makes her want to rip it out and away from her veins.

“Just give each other a chance, I think you could be good friends,” Finnick says. “After all, I love both of you a lot, you have that in common.”

“Well, I think I’m an outlier, I’m nowhere near as good as her or Mags,” Johanna disagrees.

“Johanna,” he says. “You are good, in your own way. I’ve always known it. I knew from when I met you that you were a good one. You reminded me a bit of my younger sister.”

“Yeah, same,” Johanna swallows sadly. “Although you are much smarter than both my brothers were. Brainless oafs.”

Finnick chuckles and sits back in his chair as they let the silence envelop them.

“When are you going to be deployed?” Johanna tightly asks.

“A little under a week, I’ll make sure to visit you every day until then,” Finnick responds.

“Don’t do anything stupid out there, you better come back to us,” Johanna says, almost feeling something visceral at Finnick about to be out of reach. “Annie needs you, you know.”

“I know,” he says and softly pats her hand. “And I know this wasn’t what you wanted, but I do feel so much relief knowing both of you are safe here.”

“That makes one of us.”

Johanna still feels some of her lowest at the idea of her own failure. But for a brief moment she finds her next temporary purpose – keeping an eye on Annie for Finnick’s sake. It isn’t killing Snow and burning down the Capitol, in fact it is so much less than that. But at least it is something.

---

Once Finnick leaves Johanna fights the effects of the sedation. She began trying to remove her IV which only brought in a slew of her medical team.

Johanna doesn’t know what is harder – being stuck in a loop of sedation nightmares or fighting the effects of sedation with all her failure and loss smothering her.

A figure pauses in the door and Johanna’s eyes lamely flick away from the wall when the person walks boldly inside.

Katniss juts out her arm holding out something the size of an apple for Johanna to take.

“What’s that?” She asks hoarsely.

“I made it for you. Something to put in your drawer,” Katniss says and places it in Johanna’s hand. She insists, “Smell it.”

Johanna tentatively raises the white bundle to her nose and a fragrant scent of pine slices through the sterile smell of the room.

And at this darkest moment of her life it is like twenty-one years of memories slam into her.

“It smells like home,” Johanna says as tears flood her eyes.

It carves away at her.

A home out of reach. A life of isolation with nothing to her name.

But now she owns something.

Of course it had to be Katniss Everdeen to be the person to give her this gift. Even if Johanna doesn’t feel like she deserves such a thing. Especially based on how she stole drugs from Katniss who has been one of the only people to treat Johanna like a person since she’s been in District 13.

“That’s what I was hoping. You being from Seven and all,” Katniss offers, then she awkwardly tries to fill the silence. “Remember when we met? You were a tree. Well, briefly.”

But Johanna isn’t listening to rambling, instead the scent engulfing her makes her realize something.

It’s maybe the bleakest realization of her life that not only does the only item she own come from a person she hated months ago, but said person is the only person she can genuinely trust to carry out her goal.

Their shared goal that all the victors have.

Desperately Johanna uses her free hand to snag Katniss’s wrist in an iron grip, “You have to kill him, Katniss.”

“Don’t worry.”

But Johanna needs more than that, she needs Katniss’s word. She knows that Katniss is one of the few people around her whose word actually means something.

“Swear it. On something you care about,” Johanna hisses.

“I swear it.” Katniss says, “On my life.”

Not good enough.

Johanna keeps her iron grip on Katniss and looks at the girl who kept what Johanna lost – that is what she needs Katniss to swear on.

“On your family’s life,” Johanna insists.

“On my family’s life,” Katniss earnestly repeats.

Johanna believes her and drops her vice grip, not realizing the strength she was exerting in her exhaustion until Katniss rubs away at the red fingerprints on her skin.

“Why do you think I’m going anyway, brainless?” Katniss lightly teases.

The use of brainless makes Johanna smile a bit, “I just needed to hear it.”

Johanna turns her attention to the bundle of pine needles and presses it to her nose again to inhale the scent.

Katniss shifts her weight a bit awkwardly after a moment and Johanna blinks her eyes open, automatically swiping at one tear that fell from her eye.

“Thank you, Katniss,” Johanna mutters. “For this and everything here.”

“Of course,” Katniss nods. “It’s only fair.”

Fair.

Fairness is a thing Johanna has never been afforded and it is maybe the biggest gift Katniss gives her, even bigger than this tiny reminder of home.

After a few minutes, Katniss leaves while promising to visit again before she is deployed.

It leaves Johanna all alone – a failure in pieces.

She won’t avenge her family. She won’t go bust into the Capitol and save Virginia and kill Snow.

Johanna will just sit in this hole in the ground, too weak to fight.

Finnick said it is so she can finally stop fighting. But that’s all she knows and how isn’t she supposed to fight when stuck in this prison?

The weight of the bundle in her palms keeps her from collapsing completely.

It’s a tangible reminder of home. And while her home has been taken from her, it should be temporarily if this war turns out right.

Then what will be waiting for her in District 7?

Nothing.

But the smell of pine against her nostrils makes her feel something that knows it isn’t just nothing she’d be returning to.

She’d be returning home and escaping this prison, escaping the hell Snow has put her through.

All she has to do in the meantime is just wait – her least favorite thing.

Notes:

In my opinion the movies cutting out the Katniss & Johanna roomie arc is the top 3 of their most heinous atrocities - i could make such a big list about the movies lol. (If you're curious my other things in the top 3 are Madge's character being cut and them not having Peeta lose his leg).

Thank you for reading! A huge thanks for those who interact in any way, keeps me going. I love interacting with feedback. I know this story has been quite a bummer, but hey Part 1 - The Prisoner is over at least!

Up next in Chapter 8: Johanna gets a new roommate. Beetee gives Johanna a gift (or two). And she tries to exist while watching the invasion of the Capitol from afar.

Chapter 8: Part 2: The Wreckage

Summary:

Johanna adjusts to her new normal in District 13 and watches the invasion of the Capitol from afar.

TW: panic attack, PTSD, depictions of war (off-screen)

The morning after Finnick and Katniss are deployed; Johanna is discharged from the hospital. She’s a bit surprised they’re allowing her to live on her own.

But she is still assigned to her same room she lived in with Katniss, so she is assuming it is because Asterid has agreed to continue keeping an eye on her.

Although returning to her room makes her realize her discharge out of the hospital is likely because she has a new roommate.

Seems like lumping together the unstable victors worked well enough with her and Katniss that whoever is in charge decided it was a good idea for Johanna and Annie to room together.

Annie is unpacking her own few items to put in the drawers. She gives Johanna a small wave upon her entry.

“Did they let you choose this new room assignment? Or did they just stick you with me?” Johanna asks in greeting.

“They said without Finnick I couldn’t stay in a room alone,” Annie softly answers.

“And I’d guess none of these cowardly Thirteen idiots would be able to room with a big, scary victor,” Johanna says with a huff as she yanks open her own drawer to throw in the one item she now owns – the bundle of pine needles from Katniss.

Annie laughs a small bit at this, “Must be. And because Asterid is supposed to keep an eye on us.”

It’s not like Johanna is super excited about this new rooming arrangement. Honestly it may be a downgrade from Katniss, but in terms of any of her other lack of options, she assumes Annie is her best bet for a roommate.

When Johanna sticks her forearm in the wall where the schedules are inked in temporarily, she walks over to Annie and juts her arm out. She peeks over as Annie turns her forearm open as they compare.

“Sticking the looney victors together for stuff, I see,” Johanna says. “Why the fuck do we have two classes to go to? We are adults.”

“To establish some type of routine,” Annie answers dismissively.

Johanna raises an eyebrow, “Have they had you doing this the whole time?”

“Pretty much.”

“Gross,” Johanna scowls at the idea of being shoved behind a desk with a bunch of stupid teenagers around her. “Why do I have a meeting in Special Defense later? Have they had anything like that for you?”

Annie shakes her head, “No, but maybe it’s for propos or something. They sometimes have me film a few for airing in District 4.”

“I guess that is somehow better than being in a children’s classroom learning about nukes,” Johanna huffs. “I hope they know I’m going to half ass it.”

“Yeah, what are they going to do? Kick you out of school if you fail a class,” Annie says.

Johanna barks out a laugh that makes Annie flinch smally, “Was that a joke?”

Annie shrugs with a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “Maybe.”

“Well, school calls. Let’s get this garbage over with,” Johanna says.

And just like how mutually suffering beside Katniss helped with Johanna’s crippling loneliness, she feels herself about to settle into something similar with Annie. Maybe it will help with the emptiness consuming her over her failure to qualify to fight in the Capitol.

---

“Johanna, it’s good to see you.”

“Beetee, nobody ever thinks that,” she sarcastically responds in greeting as she stops in front of him at his large table of various inventions splayed out in front of him.

He pushes up his glasses as he finally looks up from where he is tinkering, “I have something for you.”

“Is that why I had this fancy meeting on my schedule?”

Beetee nods, “Some of your medical team came to me and gave me some updates on things. I figured if you wanted to take a break from folding paper cranes, you may like something a little closer to home.”

He wheels forward and motions for her to follow him through another security intense doorway to a larger room of even more weapons. Beetee grabs a small gold bangle off a table and holds it out to Johanna.

“Jewelry? Wow Beetee, I feel bad I have no little gifts for you,” Johanna jokes.

“Put it on,” he urges. “That button on the side, if you hold up your hand and press it,” he cuts himself off when Johanna immediately goes to do so not bothering to listen to the second half of his sentence, and he quickly blurts, “Get ready to catch it!”

A lacquered wooden handle securely smacks into her hand. Johanna holds the axe out and inspects it. It looks like a typical axe you’d find outside most homes in District 7. It isn’t like the axes she had in the arenas that were overly sharp, ridiculously lethal looking, unevenly distributed, and garish beyond any practicality.

“It’s like Finnick’s trident?” Johanna asks as she realizes the bracelet made the thing fly back to her hand. Finnick had told her excitedly about Beetee’s invention a few days ago when he visited her in the hospital.

“Yes,” he nods. “I did want to run some experimental tests with you. Since axe blades bury in targets at much sharper angles than a trident does, I want to test if the technology on the bracelet is strong enough to dislodge the axe blade if it wedges too far into a target. I also want to make sure it still flies back smoothly.”

“Thanks, Beetee,” she genuinely mutters, still almost borderline confused as she looks at the axe. Almost wondering what made Beetee bother with this extra effort. “Where is the technology crap in this thing?”

“The handle,” Beetee answers and reaches forward to tap a spot by where her fingers are tightly gripping it. “As you can see, there are plenty of targets in here, so feel free to start anywhere.”

“And you’re just going to watch?” she says with a smirk.

Beetee waves a hand, “I’ll be working, but will jot down any notable observations.”

“I’m surprised they let you give this to me after I failed to qualify,” Johanna mutters as she walks over to a spot and eyes a target twenty yards across from her.

“Well, I had started making it as soon as you were rescued,” Beetee explains. “Initially the plan was you’d bring it with you when you were deployed. But it seems you might need it now anyways.”

Johanna winds up and forcefully throws the axe. She inhales sharply with a proud smirk at how the blade buries in the bullseye. She presses the button on her bangle and holds her hand up to catch the axe easily.

“It’s like a more fun version of a remote for a TV,” she observes, unable to suppress an impressed grin.

“I also wanted to give you this so we could talk.”

“Am I in trouble for something?” Johanna asks almost bemusedly as she looks away from the axe.

“I have an inkling you may already know what I wanted to talk to you about,” Beetee begins.

Johanna hasn’t seen Beetee since she first woke up here and was interviewed about her and Peeta’s captivity. The last time she even heard Beetee was when she overheard that conversation with Plutarch a few days after her rescue.

“And what’s that?” She asks as she strides to another spot to wind up and whip the axe into the plaster of a wall.

“Well, that wasn’t an intended target,” Beetee chuckles as he watches the blade bury in the white wall. “I wanted to talk to you about Virginia if that would be alright.”

She tries not to vomit up her heart or let her knees buckle from the way those words slam into her.

“I don’t know,” Johanna tries overly hard to dismissively say. She presses the button and catches the axe to avoid looking at him, “Would it be alright with Plutarch?”

“So, you do know.”

“Know what?” she plays dumb.

“That she’s alive and still in custody,” he says.

“Like still?” Johanna swallows thickly.

It is probably just Beetee finally telling her the update from months ago that she overheard.

Don’t get your hopes up.

“When did you last hear that update?” Johanna tightly asks

“Plutarch had an update from a contact a little over two weeks ago,” Beetee explains. “Haymitch and I have debated him heavily on this multiple times. But given your recent-“

“Failure,” Johanna numbly mutters the words past her lips as her mind fuzzes with this new information about Virginia.

“Given that you are still stuck in District 13, which is what none of us wanted, especially you,” Beetee says. “You deserve to know the truth.”

“Why do you care, Beetee?” She asks after she turns away to find a different target to launch her new, fancy axe at.

“Because you have been treated awfully by the Capitol and rarely are treated fairly. I think it’s only fair that you know,” he offers. “Plutarch worried of false hope, but Haymitch suspected you maybe had an idea since you basically stopped talking about her all together very shortly after that outburst at Plutarch.”

“That doesn’t explain why you care? You have all these jobs for the war effort, and I’m obsolete to that,” she dismisses and throws the axe into the side of a sandbag. “For fuck sakes, they don’t even trust me with grunt work jobs here. They could have me on the schedule doing chores, like mopping hallways at least but no I’m not even capable of that. They’ve thrown me into classrooms of children, because they have no clue what to do with me.”

“If you need a concrete reason to settle your mind, you did save my life.” Beetee says, “Many times, I will always appreciate that.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she huffs.

“I know I don’t.”

Johanna shifts uncomfortably at that. She doesn’t know how to sit with anyone caring or thinking about her wellbeing.

“Is it because you pity me?” She eventually asks after she throws an axe into a metal plate on the wall.

“Pity and sympathy are not the same thing,” Beetee hums as he wheels over to a spot and begins tinkering with something under a large magnifying glass.

“I don’t deserve or need either,” she grunts out after having to walk over to the metal the axe lodged in to yank it out when the power of the bracelet wasn’t enough to wriggle it loose.

“I disagree.”

Her shoulders sink after a heavy sigh rips from her chest. She stares at the blade of the axe.

“Do you remember her at all?” Johanna eventually asks while still refusing to look at him. “Virginia told me you would teach the little spy drones how to do some tinkering every semester.”

“Yes, I remember her. She was the youngest in her class, always asked great questions.”

Hearing only a few seconds of someone else remembering Virginia has Johanna lamely setting the axe down on the closest surface in favor of her gripping tightly onto the table. She can feel more curiosity and tears bubbling in her chest.

“What was the update from two weeks ago? Was it only that she is still alive and in custody? Or was there more?” Johanna asks after a few minutes of the sound of Beetee’s wrench fills the air.

“Her cover is still intact.”

“That’s good,” Johanna dully states.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know how to sit through this stupid waiting game,” Johanna honestly mutters out. Her voice is too raw and it makes her snag up the axe so she can turn and forcefully whip it at her next target – the grout between white bricks.

“Wow, were you aiming for that?” Beetee breathes out when the blade of the axe perfectly sinks in between the bricks. He wheels over to it and looks beneath his glasses to inspect the precision with which she threw it.

“Yeah, give me about a half hour with this thing and I could probably start doing trick shots for you,” she dismissively says after jabbing the button on her bracelet to retrieve the weapon.

“I can understand how difficult it is, just having to wait for the war to be over to try and reach someone you care about.”

She snorts meanly, “Yeah, you understand that very specific scenario?”

“I do,” Beetee evenly states.

There is an air of sadness behind his words that makes Johanna spin around to look at him. He is blankly staring at the table where he is fiddling with wire between his fingers like he is back in that Quarter Quell arena.

“I have a son who is a few years older than you,” Beetee admits.

Johanna knew that Beetee had two kids, one of whom was reaped and horribly murdered in the arena by mutts. In the meeting when Virginia was telling her about the Quarter Quell plot, she told Johanna that Beetee’s second son was born after his other son’s death and Snow needed Beetee’s giant brain for technological advancements, so his second kid was always kept around as a way to keep Beetee in line.

“Is he in-“

“Hiding, technically,” Beetee grimly says. “He’s brilliant. Brilliant enough to make my wife and I look like buffoons.”

“Is that why Snow was fine reaping you for the Quell? You produced a talented enough kid to replace you for all the technological advancements,” Johanna asks.

Beetee looks up and pushes at his glasses as if he forgot Johanna was here, “Precisely. And since we knew I was being sent back in, we knew it was likely my son would be either taken to the Capitol to be forced to work for them or be taken into custody.”

“But he isn’t in the Capitol?”

“Not that I know of,” Beetee sighs. “I had done enough for the rebellion in my life for me to use my resources so he could be taken into hiding immediately after the reaping. It is for his own safety that I receive no updates.”

“When did Snow kill your wife?” Johanna bluntly asks after a few moments.

“A little over a decade after Ampert,” Beetee slams his mouth shut at the name of his deceased son slipping out of his mouth.

“So we aren’t in that different of boats,” Johanna eventually mutters. Both have had everything cruelly ripped from them and have one singular tether left and completely out of reach.

“Yes,” Beetee nods. “I know how helpless it can feel. And if I could get any update on my son, I’d take it no matter what kind of update that was. You deserved to know the truth of any update.”

“How do you tolerate all these assholes then?” Johanna asks. “Plutarch playing us like chess pieces and District 13 with their cowardly brainwashed shit. Why are you helping them?”

“Nothing is clearcut in a war like this. A way to look at them that may help is seeing them as a lesser evil, a means to an end of the Capitol’s reign,” he offers.

Johanna hums, “That’s assuming District 13 peacefully overthrows the Capitol without appointing another dictator, which given everything seems unlikely.”

“Maybe, but I won’t stop fighting.”

“My head doctors say I need to learn how to stop fighting, that it is all I’ve done for years but I finally can let go,” Johanna huffs. “I don’t even know how to do such a thing, not that I want to listen to that quack.”

“I’m fighting in the capacity that I am able,” Beetee offers as he gestures at his table with blueprints of weapons of mass destruction. “Just like how you were trying that as well with trying to join the invasion of the Capitol.”

“Yep, and now I just have to sit on my ass and wait,” Johanna grumbles.

“If you want to keep fighting, there are other was to go about it,” Beetee offers. “You could talk to Plutarch about propos or other things you could do from here. It may not be fighting in the way you want, but it could be a form of it.”

“Then I’ll just be a coward from afar just like Plutarch and everyone in this hole in the ground.”

“Well Johanna, you can attest more than anyone to the fact that sometimes the coward strategy is the best and most efficient way to get things done.”

Johanna chuckles, “Well you aren’t wrong about that, Beetee.”

---

It’s a little under a week after Finnick’s squad was deployed. Two days ago, Finnick was even able to call from a phone on camp to talk to Annie each night.

It has made the last few nights in their compartment more tolerable because it makes Annie nearly giddy enough to act normal and Johanna doesn’t need to think carefully about every word to avoid setting off a headcase.

“Finnick said hi!” Annie greets brightly upon entering their compartment during the reflection time.

Johanna has barely settled back in her bed after her nightly wet towel pat down and feels some relief flood her at Annie’s announcement. She’s exhausted, she’s been exceptionally exhausted since she failed in the Block. And Johanna’s lived for almost half a decade managing to function on as minimal sleep possible, but she’s never known such exhaustion.

The only time she is ever actually able to sleep is her naps she takes about half the time in her two morning classes – Nuclear Studies and District 13 Historical Studies. Somehow she never has nightmares in those tiny chunks of time, maybe because she never falls too deeply into her rest.

Ever since Johanna was discharged, her head doctors have decided keeping a rigid schedule had kept Johanna sane for half a decade, it can keep her sane here. The annoying part is that, yes she did keep a rigid schedule of moving to stay sane, but she did it on her time she never had rigid timeslots.

She fucking hates it here.

After her two classes, she has her first head doctor appointment of the day. That is followed by lunch with Annie, Delly, and Delly’s brother. Then the next two to four hours are her best of the day – playing around with her axe in Special Defense with Beetee.

The old man has grown on her, he is annoyingly analytical but there is no bullshitting with him. He seems to also find Johanna’s brashness to be a breath of relief. After that she often has a meeting with Plutarch for filming simple propos to air in District 7. The hours of using her axe beforehand is probably the only thing that keeps her from diving in on Plutarch like a rabid dog.

Then she has a second head doctor appointment.

After that is dinner and having to listen to mandatory announcements. The following hours of ‘reflection’ aka downtime are the most torturous to Johanna.

She is left alone with her own mind for about a half hour to hour while Annie gets to talk to her husband. Johanna nearly goes insane and keeps her fingers busy making paper cranes until the paper rips from overuse.

Once Annie comes back, they are left to their own entertainment to keep each other sane enough. Annie will do homework for their classes that Johanna doesn’t bother with. Both usually spend a few hours playing some sort of card game to ignore the active war going on.

Then bedtime – where all Johanna does is suffer in her mind.

She is untethered and totally alone – that is how she tries to function. But her defenses die down in the silence or sounds of Annie’s nightmares.

The silence makes her remember the pain of everyone she’s lost.

But somehow that is child’s play compared to her pathetic connection to those who are still alive and out of reach.

Finnick and Katniss.

And worst – Virginia.

She doesn’t know if she ultimately appreciates Beetee’s update. She would’ve preferred if he had an update that could rest her mind, something like Virginia being flat out dead or rescued. Then she couldn’t be haunted by what ifs.

Maybe she is dead.

How long until they all are?

---

On the third day of Annie calling Finnick, she tugs Johanna along with her, insisting that Finnick wanted to talk to her for a bit too.

“Jo, how’s it going in District 13?” Finnick brightly greets.

“Oh, you know it’s a dream,” she drawls with a chuckle. “I have boring classes with teenagers who all have staring problems. For how scared everyone is of me here, you’d think they’d try to avoid that.”

“Annie said you sleep in the classes a lot,” Finnick says.

“I do, it’s the only quality sleep I get,” she dismisses and then smirks to joke. “I can’t have traumatic nightmares when I am dreaming of giving all my fellow classmates a fucking wedgie or something.”

“Hopefully not Annie though,” he jokes.

“Obviously not,” she agrees.

“How’s it going with you guys?”

“I hate admitting when people are right,” Johanna begins.

“But I was right,” Finnick smugly finishes. “Getting along better than you think?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Johanna huffs. “She’s already gotten a bit better at handling my oversharing once I told her to just try and tune me out when I go on those rants.”

“Dangerous of you to teach someone selective hearing,” he teases. “You talk so much, it may make anyone tune you out entirely.”

“Oh shut up,” she chuckles. Her finger awkwardly twirls at the coiling cord of the phone. “Beetee made me a fancy axe like your trident. I get to play with it in the afternoon.”

“That’s probably doing more than any head doctor could, huh?” he knowingly responds.

“You know it.” Johanna pauses and gulps, “How are things with you?”

“Johanna, I have never been so damn bored in my life,” Finnick gravely states. He then dramatically retells how half his day is spent filming stupid propos and having to reshoot so much, their only break from that is often just waiting. “This is our third day of such boredom.”

“That’s why you are splitting your phone time tonight with Annie to include me, for the entertainment,” she jokes.

“I mean you are the funniest person I know, but I did want to hear how you’re doing.”

“You’re the best, Finnick,” she says with a smirk and her eyes flit to the clock on the wall. The red hand ticking to a new minute show that the tiny section of time allotted for Johanna to talk to Finnick is about to end. “I don’t want to dip into any of your Annie chatting time, but it was nice getting to talk to you, bud.”

“You too, Johanna,” he says and she can hear his grin through the phone.

She sets the phone aside to go grab Annie in the hall, “He’s all yours. Thanks for letting me steal some of your time.”

“Of course,” Annie grins and rushes into the room.

Johanna hovers and considers waiting for Annie, but it would mean almost an hour of sitting in the hall. The idea of going back to her room feels too lonely right now, so Johanna finds herself migrating to the worst place in this joint.

The hospital wing.

“Is Haymitch around?” Johanna asks a nurse at a nearby desk.

“Same spot as usual.”

She nods and heads towards Peeta’s room. He is no longer in a cell like hospital room like he initially was. But he still has guards at his door. Haymitch is sitting in a little private waiting room where he spends most of his day.

“How’s he been?” Johanna asks as she plops into a chair across from him.

“Improving,” Haymitch tiredly grunts. “I actually think if you are ever up for visiting him now it won’t be like last time.”

“Horribly scarring?”

“Yeah, that,” Haymitch huffs. He rubs a hand down his face, “Delly tore into me when she found out I asked you to visit him so soon. I –“

“Ugh, you know neither of us can stomach an apology,” Johanna cuts him off with a laugh because he looks like he wants to vomit at this.

He chuckles, “Thanks, Johanna.”

Her eyes flit to the door, it would only be a short distance to go into Peeta’s room.

Johanna hasn’t really interacted with him much since his blowout lunch with Katniss. He often eats his meals in the military training stuff they have him in. But she is too exhausted to handle talking to him right now, especially if things go south.

She decides, “Maybe not today, but sometime soon.”

---

Within twenty-four hours she realizes she waved off the opportunity for a last time to say goodbye to Peeta.

She finds out when she returns to see Haymitch in the hospital but is told he is in Command.

He’s pacing and cussing loudly and through the noise Johanna deciphers the news – someone in Squad 451 died today and Peeta was deployed as a replacement.

Johanna tells Annie about it that night while they both lie in their beds.

“Why would they do that?” Annie asks.

“It’s either their way of disposing of him so they don’t need to deal with him anymore or maybe Plutarch is really that greedy for better propos,” Johanna snarls.

“What if it is to…” Annie begins and cuts herself off.

After all, they are both victors who spent their lives in Panem where freely speaking behind closed doors didn’t even guarantee safety.

Annie turns on her side to face Johanna and she sighs before quietly continuing, “Is it to make sure Katniss dies?”

Johanna crosses her arms and glares at the ceiling, “Most likely, but Katniss and her awful guard dog cousin-lover won’t let him do that.”

“I really hope he doesn’t endanger the whole squad,” Annie admits.

“Yeah, my worries exactly.”

---

Johanna finishes the last fold on the worn paper and shoves her fingers in it to display it to Annie, “It’s a cootie catcher, you seriously never made these in Four?”

Annie shakes her head, “Do you know how to do all of this because the surplus of paper in Seven?”

“Yep, a cheap and easy way for kids to entertain themselves,” she chuckles, “Now pick a number.”

Annie smiles and joins her in the game until Johanna reaches the end of the cootie catcher to open up and read her fortune, “You will laugh at one of Johanna’s jokes.”

“You seriously wrote that?” Annie asks with a chuckle.

Johanna shrugs and tosses the thing over to her, “Don’t worry it’s in pencil. Can’t waste anything.”

“This little paper folding class is better than our nuke studies,” Annie mutters and begins erasing a few of the fortunes and one section of numbers where Johanna wrote the only options being 69, 6, 9, or 6.9 – Annie did chuckle at it a bit.

The pair are sitting in a common area after dinner to keep an eye on the news of the invasion. Johanna got the idea to make a cootie catcher for Annie to distract her since she is clearly on edge and worried since Finnick was unable to call tonight.

Even Haymitch tried reassuring her that it’s war, it makes sense if he can’t get in contact every day.

Johanna has been clinging onto that.

“Okay, pick a –“ Annie begins and cuts herself off when her eyes drift to the TV screen behind Johanna.

A small shriek bleats out of Annie’s mouth as the paper loudly falls to the floor. Johanna spins, already knowing with a visceral panic what it may be.

It’s a Capitol news emergency broadcast.

A black tidal wave of something that looks like tar is on the screen, sweeping a Capitol street.

Johanna makes out Katniss first from the braid. She narrowly avoids being killed by a mutted out Peeta who accidentally flings another soldier into another trap.

The sounds on the screen are silent beneath the ringing in her ears.

Squad 451 makes it into an apartment building where live footage is cut to a reporter on top of a nearby building. Peacekeepers behind the woman launch shells at it.

“No.”

Her heart drops and the first thing she hears is Annie’s screams when words flashing at the bottom of the screen - Victors Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, and Finnick Odair confirmed dead along with entire squad.

“Stay tuned tonight for President Snow’s official announcement of the death of the Mockingjay,” the reporter says.

Johanna collapses in on herself and presses her hands against her sides to keep them from exploding.

She can’t have lost Finnick that easily.

She barely registers Haymitch and some medical staff rushing into their space when Annie’s screaming doesn’t cease.

Cold hands are pressed on Johanna’s shoulders, and it is the first time she realizes she has been pacing and hyperventilating.

Haymitch’s gray eyes are fixed on Johanna in determination, he’s trying to help her breathe.

Everything blurs a bit there and is drowned in a sea of panicked grief.

Annie ends up needing to be sedated and admitted to the hospital again.

Johanna is threatened with restraints from her thrashing when she refuses to be taken to the hospital. Ultimately she complies and is led to an outpatient area to treat her panic. She is offered to be sedated, which she vehemently denies because she wants morphling so fucking bad. And a sedative is too close, she doesn’t want to deal with the hard smash of reality that will come with having to get whatever sedative they give to her out of her system. She is instead given a calming drug for panic, it keeps her heart from ripping out of her throat but doesn’t stop the tears.

It only allows her to be able to fully breathe and feel the ache in her chest at the loss.

Finnick can’t be dead.

Peeta can’t be dead.

Fuck, Katniss can’t be dead.

Johanna can’t have lost all of them so easily.

They can’t be dead.

---

After a nap and lengthy appointment with her head doctor, Johanna is discharged the same night. She is given an orange bottle of pills with instructions to take one each morning.

When Johanna makes it to Annie’s hospital room, she finds an exhausted Haymitch in the hall.

“There you are, I heard you were about to be discharged,” he says. “I’ll walk you back to your compartment.”

“Do you have updates?” she asks emptily.

“President Snow made an official announcement; he made a real show of it – did the anthem bullshit-“

“He’s a repetitive bitch,” Johanna murmurs. “Bit lazy if you ask me.”

“But he said once Katniss’s body is pulled from the damage tomorrow,” Haymitch adds. “It means that yes they might all still be dead, but we don’t have official proof yet.”

“What do they think here?”

“Dead, but that is probably wishful thinking on their part,” Haymitch huffs.

“Real shocker there,” Johanna grumbles.

---

Johanna sits dully on her bed after Haymitch walks her back to her room. She moves around the bundle of pine needles in her grasp and stares at what used to be Katniss’s bed.

When Johanna is in too much pain or realizes too clearly that they’re dead, she purposefully presses her fingers harshly into the bundle to poke them with the pine needles.

A knock on her door pulls her out of her reverie.

She doesn’t know what she was expecting, but she definitely wasn’t expecting Prim to be standing there with her yellow cat in her arms and a couple boxes set at her feet.

“Hey, Prim,” Johanna almost asks.

“Hi, Johanna,” Prim’s blue eyes are so dull and bloodshot.

Before Johanna can figure out how to awkwardly offer some form of condolences, Prim walks past her into the room.

“Okay,” Johanna mutters under her breath and crouches down to pick up the few boxes Prim had set on the ground.

“I’m being deployed with some other medics tonight,” Prim quickly states. “Do you think you and Annie could keep an eye on Buttercup?”

“Um, you’re sure you want to leave him with us?” Johanna asks warily as a hissing Buttercup is set on the ground.

“My mother will bury herself in work with Katniss gone,” Prim sullenly says from where she is kneeling while petting the cat. She gives a resolute nod and pulls Buttercup’s face in to give his forehead a kiss. “At least he’ll have company with you and Annie.”

“I don’t know if he would consider me good company,” Johanna chuckles. She has met the cat a handful of times, and he is an asshole to about anyone who isn’t Prim. One of the things that Johanna genuinely found funny about Katniss was when she would go on random tirades about the stupid cat.

“Him being around may help you as well,” Prim offers. “Animals can do that.”

For how wise Prim sounds, she looks so young and empty. It’s clear her being deployed as a medic is her kneejerk reaction to her sister’s death. “She’d be proud of you for helping people, but more than anything she’d want you to stay safe.”

“Thanks, take good care of him, okay?” Prim mutters and wipes her cheeks.

Johanna could try to reassure Prim that while Katniss has been declared dead there is no proof of her body yet, she doesn’t want to give her false hope. Just like how Johanna has sullenly accepted that while she knows Virginia is alive and out of sight she doesn’t hope.

“I’ll keep an eye on Asterid too. I don’t have anything better to do,” Johanna offers.

Prim surprises Johanna by reaching in to give her a quick hug. Johanna pats her on the back, and is kind enough to ignore the trembling sob Prim lets out.

“You better stay safe out there, kid. I’m only watching this cat temporarily, so you gotta come back for him.”

“I’ll try to stay safe. Thank you, Johanna. Please take care,” Prim offers with a small wave. She pulls Buttercup in and hugs him tightly one last time before leaving the room.

Johanna stands in silence, thinking of the fact that a thirteen-year-old is being sent into combat. Even if it is for medical aid, it’s questionable at best. Military tactics classes taught her that often in war the first people targeted are medics since they can heal everyone else.

If she had to wage a guess, she’d bet Asterid had no say in either of her children being deployed.

It makes her wonder why the woman throws herself into her work here and helping everyone. Because everyone here fucking sucks.

Johanna moves back to sit on her bed with a huff. Flipping through one of the books for a nuclear bullshit class.

She very quickly ditches the work in favor of her new and favorite roommate – Buttercup, that little asshole.

Johanna feels the first positive emotion that scrapes away her emptiness when Buttercup plays with a loose string hanging off her sleeve.

“You stupid little idiot,” Johanna chuckles and yanks the string out of reach.

But she finds herself feeling beyond thankful that Prim gave her the responsibility of watching this little idiot as his warm body curls into Johanna’s side as she lays down to try and get some form of rest.

---

A knock on her door in the middle of the night awakens her, Johanna shuffles over and tiredly squints at Haymitch.

“They’ve only pulled one more body from the rubble,” he breathlessly states.

“Was it-“

“Boggs,” Haymitch says.

“The Capitol announced they were wrong?” Johanna asks in slight confusion.

“Come with me to Command,” he instructs.

“Fine, let me feed Prim’s dumb cat first.”

---

In a way the Capitol does admit they were wrong in presuming the Mockingjay’s death. But as always, they make it into spectacle and make it like another Hunger Games.

The emergency Capitol news broadcast has a special mutt segment.

“Part crocodile, part lizards, part arthropod, part primate,” a doctor in a white lab coat answers into the microphone the reporter holds out. The doctor looks deliriously delighted at the crime against nature she’s helped create. “It’s some of our most revolutionary mutt designs yet.”

“And what better way to remove the scourge of the Mockingjay with the best ever mutts created!” The reporter chirps.

Johanna’s eyes stay hopelessly locked on the spinning image of said mutt.

It is horrifying.

“By part primate they mean fucking human. Do you think those are Avoxes?” Johanna breathes out unevenly.

“It may just be human DNA,” Plutarch offers.

Johanna gulps down some coffee that District 13 desperately dipped into. “Why are they showing it before they release those?”

“They’re making it into their own Hunger Games,” Plutarch answers. “Dramatic irony – it is done during any Hunger Games. For example, during your games, Johanna, the audience knew about the bear before you stumbled upon it because shots of the animal and an aerial view was shown first. It’s the best way to evoke the most emotional response from those watching. They all knew you were walking into its hunting grounds while you were none the wiser.”

“You mean irreparably harm their loved ones forced to watch their kidnapped children face death,” Johanna hisses at him over her cup.

“Precisely the case,” Plutarch agrees. As if he didn’t have an active part in all that. “They know Squad 451 does not have access to these news channels or any way to be alerted about this upcoming attack.”

“How?” Johanna asks and turns to look at Haymitch because answers from Plutarch about how those lethal mutts are about to be released on her unsuspecting friends isn’t fucking comforting.

“They’re underground,” Haymitch gruffly breathes out. “There’s no other path they could have taken.”

“Why’d you wake me up for this?” Johanna eventually breathes.

“Well, these mutts gave me an idea for what I like to call backlog propos,” Plutarch answers. “Things to play that are not in the frontlines but can help distract, sway people, provoke outrage, whatever we need from the clip.”

“So more of the same shit I’ve been doing for airing in District 7?”

“No, this will be airing in the Capitol. Beetee is hacking into the Capitol networks so commercial segments on their channels will play between their continuous bragging about these mutts,” Plutarch says. “While we have less than a handful of victors to work with for that here, your honesty and response to the mutt in your arena could be impactful.”

“And what is the point of this propo outside of you milking my traumatic moments for fun?”

“People in the inner parts that haven’t evacuated or turned their opinion yet may change their minds,” Plutarch says. “Right after the boasting about the mutts they will release, we will undercut it by showing the lasting impact and realistic cruelty of mutts by those who survived it in the past. It is a way for you to be honest in a way they tried to censor you after your games. That is why you are the best candidate.”

“I’m the only one being subjected to this?” Johanna growls.

“No, I am as well,” Haymitch pipes up.

“Whatever, fine,” Johanna grunts.

As she walks through the dimly lit halls following a backup propo crew to film, she yanks Haymitch so they can trail behind the group.

“Is this actually going to do anything?”

“I don’t know,” Haymitch says. “But it at least gets the truth out there.”

“Was that really enough to convince you to get in front of a camera? Never would’ve expected that without a gun to your head.”

Haymitch chuckles dryly, “There are four of us, and Plutarch wanted two victors to do this segment. Annie is obviously out of question. And Beetee…he shouldn’t have to speak about that.”

Johanna understands immediately and connects two facts she never did before – Ampert, Beetee’s son who died horribly from mutts, was in the arena at the same time as Haymitch.

And Johanna knows Plutarch well enough to know he would’ve been giddy to pull lots of that from Beetee on camera. So she makes a resolve to double down in her efforts on camera for the same reason Haymitch is subjecting himself to this garbage.

Neither of them have any shortages of their own atrocious mutts they encountered. Haymitch was in a Quarter Quell arena, he saw a variety of cruel mutts designed to target specific tributes.

When Haymitch is wrapping up his part, Johanna finally manages to snag a spare piece of paper that she automatically begins folding without looking.

She plops down in the still warm stool after Haymitch and glares straight into the camera.

“Action,” the backup director says and Johanna just keeps staring.

“Johanna you can begin,” Plutarch urges.

“Oh, you just want me to monologue?” She asks as she finishes the last fold on a crane. She yanks it and it frees into a square of paper. “I thought it would be a Q&A since I’m not a great screen presence.”

“If that will help,” the director agrees. “So, Johanna you have been through two arenas and have faced off with many mutts. Out of both arenas you were in, which mutts did the most lasting damage?”

“Obviously my first arena,” she says with an eyeroll. “I was only seventeen and had no allies. It was very different from mutts I encountered in my second arena.”

“Yes, when you were in the final two a series of mutts were released on you, correct?”

Johanna nods, “Yes, first a physical threat that was definitely made to kill me. And once I was weakened from that Gamemakers distorted the arena until I was disoriented and released a psychological monster of a mutt on me.”

“Let’s talk in chronological order.”

Johanna easily answers and engages with the questions about the moose mutt. She acknowledges that it was obviously also released to mock and mess with her head since it was an animal from her home district. She even offers a verbal side-by-side comparison of how moose in nature actually should act.

“If you ask me, it’s vile. A moose is already a force of nature, you should see one of those things swim,” Johanna chuckles but feels empty pangs at the homesickness. “It’s law in the more rural and northern parts of District 7 that if you are caught feeding a moose both you and moose are shot on sight.”

“Because it is that dangerous?”

“Yes, they can pummel your chest in until your bones are shards and your insides turn to indistinguishable mush,” she shrugs. “But they don’t attack indiscriminately.”

“Yet the moose mutt you faced off against was designed to target you.”

“And kill me, and gas me with noxious fumes if it couldn’t pummel me,” Johanna grumbles. “Don’t forget it ripped a tree up from the earth, that is so unnatural. If messing with the balance of nature back home by feeding one can get you killed, why is it okay for the Capitol to mess with such forces of nature for their own amusement and violence?”

“Yes, you survived that mutt in quite a remarkable feat of quick thinking.”

“If you want to call it that. Fire kills most things,” Johanna shrugs.

“And you had barely recovered when they started to release that second mutt on you, can you describe that a bit more for me?”

She feels the paper rip beneath her fingers but she doesn’t stop folding it. Her eyes drift to a spot on the wall to avoid looking at the camera, “I got lost because they changed the terrain, I was too out of it until I was led to this creepy dark field with tall grass. Then the clicking started.”

“The clicking from the copycat mutt?”

“Yes,” Johanna tightly responds. “It was a mutt that looked like the last other tribute but something about her was beyond wrong.”

“The way she was racing around and toying with you?”

“Well that, but also,” Johanna can’t hide her shiver, “It looked human, but not quite. The eyes were empty and evil, her smile too wide for a mouth to stretch, the face even moved after I buried an axe in it. And once I killed her, I had been so scared but thought I won.”

“But you hadn’t, it was just another cruel trick.”

“Yes,” she says. “I lost it. It broke a part of my mind that never fully repaired. It’s why when I actually won I still thought it was a mutt.”

“Can you tell us more about how the Capitol censored you regarding this mutt?”

Johanna feels so small as she sinks in the chair. Absentmindedly she scratches at the bottom of her neck.

“Once the anger and shock ran its course, I realized the Gamemakers sent that specific mutt to make me feel like I would never truly leave the arena and to manipulate me into losing my mind. Based on how violent some of my kills were, I realized they were trying to make me even more violent in the final confrontation.

“They wanted me to win so I could be used as some symbol of barbarism that the Capitol associates with the districts. And I didn’t want to give them that,” she sighs and glares down at the paper she has crumpled into a ball in her fist. “They cut it from their footage, it would’ve made me look too human and sympathetic, but they wanted a violent killer. I was going to hang myself, rob them of their violent finale until I received a sponsor gift.”

“What was in the sponsor gift?”

“A bouquet of daisies and a white rose,” Johanna thickly mutters. “Daisy was the name of my best friend. And Snow is synonymous with his roses, the threat became clear and I knew I couldn’t kill myself.”

“That he would kill her and your family if you hung yourself?”

“Yes,” she mutters. “That was for nothing though, he still killed them all. I tried to not give them what they wanted, but it was such an awful last fight. At the end, I didn’t even remember I was in an arena or what was going on. And when I came to, I thought it was another mutt.”

“Were there lingering effects from this mutt?”

“Duh,” she chuckles. “They had to split up my post-games interview stuff since it made me so unstable. When they played it at the live rewatch,” Johanna rubs at her forehead, “The entire crowd turned into that mutt before my eyes. The smiles were split in half, too wide… And I screamed and lost it. Called everyone in the crowd monsters.”

“None of that showed on TV, they instead recycled your other reactions to play beneath the mutt part and final confrontation in your absence,” the director supplements.

“The show must go on,” she exhaustedly says with a huff. “And Caesar, that slimy ass, during my interview with him, he did it out of order, saving that mutt for last, because they knew I would be out of commission after having to talk about it. They couldn’t make it worse when so much of the Capitol was even pissed about that mutt.”

“Even the Capitol,” the director echoes. “I agree. What do you think about these mutts about to be released on Squad 451?”

“Well for starters I think they’re humans when they say part primate,” Johanna states with an eye roll. “And I’ll say to anyone still on the Capitol’s side: if throwing your favorite victors back in an arena, indiscriminately wiping a district off the face of the earth, total lack of goods and resources, and Snow’s crimes of poisoning anyone in his way and selling his victors to the highest bidder doesn’t make you see how twisted he is…then these fucked up mutts are your last shot.”

She sighs and stares at screen by Plutarch’s head where an image of said mutt is shown. Like human skin and features were slipped onto a violent crocodile like a suit. It’s so wrong.

“How can the Capitol with their supposed superior intellect and their actual superior schooling take science classes and not see what a sheer crime against nature those things are? Nothing like that should live, and nothing like that should be released because a senile man in his eighties is throwing a tantrum about a teenage girl.”

After that, they take a few other cuts and repeats but she is done relatively quickly.

It makes her drained, on edge, and jittery from the two cups of coffee she’s downed.

“What now?” Johanna asks as she plants her hands down on the table in Command.

“Go rest, you have nothing else on your schedule today besides your doctors appointments for your help with the propos,” Coin dismissively answers without looking up from the computer she is glaring into.

“Any other bodies pulled?” Johanna asks.

She receives multiple heads shaken in response.

Johanna doesn’t know if she can even believe it or not.

Maybe they are already dead, that way they don’t have to be killed by those mutts.

Either way, they are all probably going to die.

Her head doctor concludes her morning appointment by telling her she is compartmentalizing to not feel anything, but she just ignores him. After her appointment, she eats and returns to her compartment for a needed nap. Buttercup sleeps on her legs while she gets a fitful couple hours of ‘rest.’

That is if dreaming Katniss, Peeta, and Finnick all being horribly murdered by those mutts on repeat counts as rest or not.

Johanna barely talks during her afternoon head doctor appointment, she just crosses her arms and says she doesn’t want to talk about it.

Instead of returning back to her compartment to be horribly trapped in her thoughts, she decides to visit Annie. They’re probably done sedating her so much now and Johanna feels a little bad that she hasn’t seen her yet today after everything last night.

As she is about to round the corner to the hallway Annie’s room is in she hears murmured voices.

Ever since that day early in her stay here when she found out Virginia was still alive and how the people making decisions for Johanna decided to actively keep that from her, Johanna understands how essential eavesdropping is here in District 13.

She pauses when she hears the awful words: Odair Widow.

“…way too early to tell her.”

“But we can’t give her several of these psych drugs and need to limit sedation.”

“We just won’t announce anything to her.”

“She’ll notice, maybe Nurse Everdeen should break the news to her. After all she is the only one that gets the bald one to behave.”

Johanna rolls her eyes; she hates the idiots down here so damn much. She isn’t even bald anymore.

“Eight weeks is the ideal time we should let her know. That’s when we are further out of the woods for miscarriage. The stress right now may even be enough to cause her to miscarry. We don’t want to add false hope of a memory from her now dead husband to her loss.”

Finnick.

Johanna wraps her arms around herself to keep her insides from exploding with grief.

But her flare of grief about Finnick only flickers in her brain for a second before the words she eavesdropped on sink in.

Annie is pregnant.

Notes:

Everything in Part 3 of Mockingjay during the invasion of the Capitol all happens in like 24hrs by the time they get to Tigris's place. I feel like being afar and getting the delayed updates made it a hot mess in District 13.

Also, I headcannoned that Beetee's second kid was still alive bc in CF when Johanna says she 'isn't like the rest of them there's no one left she loves' bit that maybe she also meant Beetee had someone too. I know it is wishful thinking, but idk.

Thank you so much for reading. A gigantic thanks to anyone who comments and/or leaves kudos/bookmarks, it truly keeps me going! I love hearing what you guys think :)

Up next in Chapter 9: Johanna tries to figure out what to tell Annie. The war ends, the Capitol has fallen, and Johanna only feels empty.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Summary:

The fallout of the war ending in District 13.

TW: canon character deaths off-screen (the big one, RIP Finnick :/), PTSD, panic attack

Further testing of remains from mutt attack matched to Finnick Odair.

The headline is declared on the TV screen.

Johanna lets out a choked sound from where she sits on the chair beside a sleeping Annie’s hospital bed. The paper in her grasp limply falls into her lap.

Johanna covers her mouth to smother the sound.

Her wet eyes remain wide and empty as more headlines roll on the screen beneath a Capitol reporter announcing blocks where citizens need to evacuate.

“The mockingjay and four individuals remain at large, they are armed and considered highly dangerous.”

The screen shifts to show a dead, made-up woman with purple hair with an arrow sticking from her chest. Johanna didn’t know Katniss had it in her.

A truly inane amount of money is listed as bounty beneath the faces of the five left alive in the group – Katniss, Peeta, Gale, Cressida, and Pollux.

Johanna keeps reading it, keeps scanning their faces to try and find Finnick.

But he’s gone.

She flips the TV off and silently pads out into the hall.

Johanna bumps into a cart and a spare nurse but just keeps racing somewhere. She doesn’t know where she is going until she is in some random closet and she begins screaming.

Finnick was someone Johanna let herself have as a friend, because he always seemed too important to be killed by Snow. She grieved his death before the Quell, but she’s never understood such tangible grief at the loss of him.

Knowing she will never hear his laugh again makes the last true tether she has unravel.

Johanna tries to breathe carefully to keep herself from careening off a cliff of no return, but she remembers what she heard this morning and all she can do is collapse in a ball on the ground to sob.

Annie is pregnant and Finnick is actually dead. He never got to know he was going to have a child, and his kid will never get to know how amazing their father was. Shit, will Annie even be able to care for the thing without Finnick? It’s not like Johanna can be much help; chances are Annie will backslide irreparably when she wakes up to the news.

Someone finds her wailing in the closet and a needle is ultimately plunged into her arm.

---

The first thing she hears upon waking is Annie’s quiet weeping on the opposite side of the white curtain. Johanna climbs out of bed, immediately unplugging her IVs since this sedative is already making her tired enough. It makes her brain move like cotton and she hates it.

It isn’t until their eyes lock that the hours of sedation nightmares truly sink down on Johanna.

All she saw in her dreams for hours was Finnick being killed by those awful mutts.

Johanna never underestimates an enemy, but she must’ve truly underestimated Snow’s cruelty even here. How could someone like Finnick die like that?

Annie’s green eyes are exceptionally bloodshot, her hair is frizzed in areas, and the blankets are bunched up like she’s been kicking her sheets up and down.

Johanna expects Annie to grab her ears and sink in on herself, but she instead slumps weakly back against her pillows and says to Johanna in wet, disbelief, “H-he’s gone.”

“I know,” Johanna’s thick voice is swallowed by a sob she can’t suppress.

She immediately wipes aggressively at her face to stop the tear tracks. Johanna moves to go sit beside Annie’s bed to do some form of comfort or at least to cry together. But Annie shoves over to half her tiny bed when Johanna nears and Johanna understands the request, gently sitting at the edge of the bed.

Annie’s arms are around her in a vice grip and it presses a sob out of Johanna. An influx of tears stain the shoulder of her hospital gown and she can feel how the fabric on her back is desperately being clawed at.

She’s averse to most touch, even before everything she went through, but Johanna never thought she’d see the day that she hugs Annie Cresta back, just as hard and desperate.

But she never thought she’d see a day without Finnick and grief has a way of being unpredictable. They both cry in the sterile hospital room that reeks of antiseptic, the only noise that echoes off the bare white walls are their own sniffles and sobs. It’s surreal and full of grief yet so, so detached. Like in a way they still can’t wrap their mind around it.

It is vexing and near impossible to conceptualize how to go on living in a world without Finnick Odair in it.

---

Everything for a day or two is a blur of sedation and fighting sedation while awake.

The remote to the TV has been removed to keep both from being triggered by the news.

It makes for when Johanna finally receives news that she thought would mean everything, it feels like nothing.

“The war is over, we won,” Delly greets lamely.

Johanna furrows her brow in confusion of why Delly is the one being sent to them to deliver this news, “Wait it is?”

Delly nods and fights off tears.

Annie – who alternates between blankly staring or emptily weeping – even turns to look at Delly.

“How are you both?” Delly asks tentatively.

Johanna ignores her question, “I would’ve expected Haymitch to tell us.”

“He can’t,” Delly begins, and she stops to swallow a sob. “Both him and Asterid went to the Capitol immediately, because…”

When Delly loudly cuts herself off with a sob another cold reality slams into Johanna painfully. If she wasn’t so confused why she doesn’t feel anything about the war ending, she’d probably feel her own waves of panicked grief.

“Did Katniss die?” Johanna asks.

Delly shakes her head, “Both she and Peeta are in intensive care, they both were…burned. Badly. Barely survived the bombs.”

“Shit,” Johanna breathes out and tiredly wipes at her face.

“And Prim,” Delly quietly adds and shakes her head slowly, “…died.”

“She what?” Johanna sits up when that news cuts through it. But all she can think about is Asterid and Katniss, their own agony. The girl Katniss volunteered for is just dead. Just like Finnick.

It reminds Johanna a bit about Prim’s goodbye, “Shit, how long have they had me here? I need to be discharged to take care of Prim’s cat.”

“They’ve had me feeding him,” Delly offers. “I’ll keep an eye on him until they discharge you.”

---

Johanna is discharged the next day.

Buttercup is in her room, and she wishes she had his ignorance right now. She spends the morning just dully petting him while staring at a wall, occasionally smelling the pine needle bundle, and trying to suppress the random fits of sobbing.

When she goes to her morning head doctor’s appointment, she is chided for skipping her morning schedule. In response her hair trigger temper finally returns for the first time since Finnick died and she screams her voice nearly raw while chewing into that idiot.

“I know you are weird robots down here, but my best friend is fucking dead. So I don’t give a shit about your rigid schedule you have to babysit me, and I sure as shit don’t care nor think I would feel any better by being treated like an incapable child and made to sit in your idiotic brainwashing classes!” She is panting and glaring at him, briefly considering murdering him.

But it turns out this is the most honest and open she has been with the head doctors about anything, and she is given some sort of pass that makes her exempt from duties like school but doesn’t require her to be hospitalized. Her doctor just reminds her that if she misses a single head doctor appointment she will need to be readmitted to the hospital.

She figures it’s the best she can barter for in this prison.

Johanna scarfs down her lunch at a table with a silent Delly.

She wanders around looking for Plutarch or Beetee, but she can’t find either since everything is a mess with this immediate post-war crap. Although she finds Plutarch’s assistant before she is about to head back to her room to smuggle Buttercup in a bag to visit Annie.

“Where’s Beetee?”

“In meetings.”

“He’s been letting me play with an axe he made me in Special Defense, am I still allowed to or is he too busy?”

Johanna must look so washed out and pathetic compared to her usual self that the vapid woman just nods and scribbles down a note and promises to ask Plutarch.

She shuffles to her room and spends a solid half hour trying to snag up Buttercup to stuff in a duffel bag Katniss left behind. Johanna doesn’t think she looks subtle walking into the hospital with a writhing and growling bag hanging off her shoulder, but nobody stops her.

Shutting the door behind her, she releases the little asshole into Annie’s room.

“You brought Buttercup?” Annie asks softly and sits up a bit.

“Yeah, he’s annoying but he made me feel kind of better. Figured he’d be more help than your other asshole roommate,” Johanna weakly offers and points at herself. “Besides, he deserves to meet his other roommate. Do you know when they’re discharging you yet?”

Annie shakes her head.

“Well, I’m in some half-baked loony deal, I have my head doctor appointments, but I’m allowed to float around apparently,” Johanna grumbles. “Do you think something like that would be better for you? Rather than sitting in this white cube all day? I could try and talk to them for you.”

“Maybe soon.”

“Okay,” Johanna nods. She reaches to the bedside table to grab a small section of rope stained with the blood of Annie’s raw fingertips. “Here, this is good entertainment.”

She begins wriggling the rope around on the foot of the bed and Buttercup launches himself up and begins chasing it. It’s something that temporarily makes it all feel less heavy and when Annie takes the rope and plays with him too, Johanna can see it also helping a part of Annie. Hopefully she isn’t broken beyond repair.

It’s the first time Johanna considers telling Annie what she overheard, but she needs to be smart about this.

---

Plutarch’s assistant tracks her down as she is returning her empty tray after dinner.

“So, Beetee and Plutarch are going to be doing a lot of back-and-forth travel. Since you can’t outright keep the axe in your compartment with it being a weapon, Beetee worked something out with your doctors,” she quickly updates Johanna. “So ask them about it tomorrow, but that’s all I can do for you.”

Johanna nods tersely.

---

Her head doctor keeps Beetee’s axe under lock and key and Johanna is allowed to go above ground and use it during her appointments.

About two days of this and her head doctor is writing notes for Johanna to spend extra hours outside her appointment to use the axe outside.

Throwing the axe around and splitting logs is the only way Johanna slightly begins to survive the loss of Finnick.

She is either empty or full of rage over him enduring so much and never living to see freedom from Snow’s power.

The axe helps her deal with both emotions.

Well, it at least slightly keeps her head above water.

Every moment with it is so explosive, but she’s never felt more alone and emptier.

---

Over a week after the war ended, Johanna is expected to contribute again in District 13. Thanks to her head doctor, she doesn’t have to sit through the children’s classes. Instead, she works in the kitchen in the mornings. Johanna is not even close to being a chef, but it is mindless enough to cut up vegetables for a few hours a day. Even if it shocks her that they let her around sharps at all.

Annie is discharged after a stay that is a little under two weeks in total.

Her first day back in their room, Johanna begins to start calculating how she will tell Annie about what she has overheard. Annie deserves to know. And Johanna doesn’t trust anyone here, so she decides to find a way to tell Annie outside of this hole in the ground.

Johanna has to act like a perfect little citizen for about three days straight to get someone to agree to her request. But once she’s provided enough value or has been deemed trustworthy enough, she is given permission to take Annie on a walk above ground for a half hour.

Annie’s eyes are empty and clear with grief as they begin walking. Johanna yanks off the trackers they put on them and trash them beneath a rock.

“Thanks for this, Johanna,” Annie mumbles airily. “It feels better being outside. And a-above ground.”

Because Finnick died underground. He died awfully and he will never get to know of his child or meet them.

It is the only thing that gives her any emotion outside this emptiness – anger.

“How’s the new head doctor?” Johanna tentatively asks.

“She’s a lot better than the old one,” Annie answers. “A lot more talking and less medication.”

Because she’s pregnant.

“Is there any reason for that or does talking just help you more?” Johanna prods.

Annie shrugs, “Maybe they’re trying something new. I mean being drugged just makes me think of those awful three days that are a blur of Finnick dying and everything else.”

Johanna nods and centers herself, she needs to do what Beetee did for her – tell her the truth she is owed.

“Annie, I overheard your doctors on the day Finnick died,” Johanna stiffly begins. Briefly her mind wanders to the scenario of Annie possibly miscarrying in the two weeks since then. She shakes her head and hopes the lost look in Annie’s eye means she didn’t listen closely. “When was your last period?”

“What?” Annie asks as if she has been pulled from the depths of her mind.

“Your period,” Johanna insists, because if Annie miscarried since then she probably mistaken it as that.

“Oh, uh,” Annie looks up and her steps slow and stutter for a second. Then her eyes are sharper and flitting urgently to Johanna, like she maybe just did some math in her head. “Wait.”

Johanna keeps her gaze and nods.

“I’m-“ Annie begins in disbelief and her voice beaks off.

“Yeah,” Johanna tries to gently reply. The best she can do is sound sardonic rather than brash, “You’re, uh, with child.”

Annie stops completely to hug her arms around herself and cry.

“You didn’t deserve to be lied to,” Johanna continues.

Shockingly this isn’t sending Annie into a collapsing, irretrievable mess. She just nods and looks at Johanna through tears, “Thank you, Johanna.”

Johanna nods.

The only noise for a few minutes is the chill breeze and Annie’s occasional whimpers.

“What do I do?” Annie eventually murmurs. “Why would they keep it from me?”

“Risk of miscarriage, I’m assuming they’ll tell you in a couple more weeks,” Johanna replies. “The people here like to nip ‘false hope’ in the bud by just lying completely to the people they’re controlling.”

“I don’t like it,” Annie states. “I don’t like them lying like that.”

“Well, I may have some ideas of how we could force your doctors’ hands into telling you,” Johanna says simply. When Annie gives her a quizzical look, Johanna shrugs, “My sister was knocked up once, so I have ideas.”

“Are the ideas to just tell them I’ve been puking a lot or am worried my period is late?” Annie asks.

Johanna lets out a small laugh at that, “Maybe, but we need to corner them so they can’t weasel and lie their way out of it.”

“You’ll help me?” Annie almost asks as she begins walking again.

Anything for Finnick.

“Of course,” Johanna says. “We have a good twenty minutes of this walk left so we can brainstorm if you want.”

“I’d like that, Johanna. It’s nice to feel a little less alone in this,” Annie responds.

When they have to turn around and begin trudging back towards their prison, Annie uneasily mutters, “I really don’t like it here.”

“Me neither, but I’m hoping once they’re done trying all of Snow’s lackeys and once he is assassinated we can probably leave and go home,” Johanna offers. “Why not? The war is over after all.”

---

“What the fuck do you mean I can’t just go back to Seven after the assassination?” Johanna exclaims.

“For starters, your mental state,” her doctor says.

“I’m not even a patient anymore!”

“But leaving District 13 would mean you aren’t having your needs met by the collective, it means needing to take care of yourself. We worry about your stability.”

Johanna huffs. “Literally everyone is dead, I’ll keep managing like I always do.”

“We also want to ensure it is safe for the victors upon returning home.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Many victors became public targets during the war, since all Peacekeeping forces aren’t fully cleared from the districts we want to ensure you will be safe and not targeted.”

She scoffs and begins to storm out, “Sounds like I’m in just another prison.”

“This is for your own good, Johanna.”

Glad I can’t decide that for myself, she sarcastically muses in her head before stomping out.

---

“It’s official, I’m pregnant,” Annie says in greeting as she slides into a seat across from Johanna with a tray in hand.

“Congrats,” Johanna blandly replies. “I’m surprised they didn’t lie to you.”

“I told them I kept puking for no reason in the morning and that I have a fear of puking,” Annie explains. “Made it seem like it was really making me unstable.”

Johanna smirks, impressed. It’s the first time she realizes that Annie’s whole insane persona the Capitol painted her with was – yes, in large part, her being mentally unstable – something she carefully amped up and curated at times to protect herself from those in control.

“Smart thinking.”

Annie smiles back, “Seriously, thank you for telling me, Johanna.”

---

Something about Annie’s pregnancy helps stabilize her. Maybe her new head doctor is helpful or maybe she feels like she has a piece of Finnick still and something to look forward to.

That would make sense, especially since Johanna feels like shit since she has nothing to look forward to.

She doesn’t even look forward to news of Virginia, she should’ve heard something by now.

Johanna has no reason, but she continues through the motions.

Sometimes at night she thinks about her promises to destroy the Capitol to all her loved ones.

This is what Willow wanted. What Daisy wanted. What Katherine wanted. What Archer wanted.

So why doesn’t she feel vindicated or proud?

Is it because the way this war ended also sucks? That the new people in charge don’t seem all that great either based on how they’ve treated her and Annie alone.

But if it were about that – District 13 just inserting their own shitty government into the Capitol – Johanna would expect to feel more indignant outrage.

Through it all, she just feels nothing.

She reminds herself that maybe she will feel that big moment of retribution when she gets to watch Coriolanus Snow die in front of her.

A date for his execution is now set with Katniss’s health stabilizing a bit.

Johanna is eager for his death in a week’s time, but what about after that?

---

As the days pass, Annie becomes more and more stable.

And Johanna becomes more consumed by a black hole of nothingness. It’s hard to remain surviving off spite when most the fuel to her spite is burning up.

Always lingering in the back of her mind is how nice morphling would feel to silence that black hole, but she can’t. Hallucinating her own dad during her withdrawal is enough to make the magnificent feeling of that drug terrifying enough. It’s terrifying how much she wants it.

But Johanna can’t get that here nor would she take it if offered.

The only other remains of her left outside of that apathy and addiction is anger.

Nothing has ever been fair to Johanna and even the Capitol falling doesn’t feel fair.

Maybe it is because free or not she is returning home to nothing. Who is to even say if the grave plot housing her dead family is still intact after a full war?

---

The morning the assassination comes feels like any other monotonous day in this place.

She’s led to a specific hovercraft with Annie and Beetee.

Coriolanus Snow will die today.

This should be one of the best days of her life.

But what life does she even have anymore?

The war is over.

And it feels like Johanna is too.

Notes:

This was a shorter chapter but it is a bridge chapter that shows how Finnick's death affects her prior to the victors vote and the assassination. It is definitely one of her bleakest and most depressed moments, i know this was prob not fun to read (nor has much of this story prob been so far lol) but i promise the tides will turn for Johanna eventually and she'll heal and get an ending she deserves :)

Since this chapter is a bummer, most of Chapter 10 is already written and should be posted soon so there's that to look forward to.

Thank you for reading! A huge thanks to those that interact with comments/kudos, i love hearing/interacting with your feedback :)

Up next in Chapter 10: The victors vote, the assassination, and the political fallout for Johanna and Annie due to their association with the assassin of the newest president of Panem.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Summary:

the victors vote, assassination, and political fallout.

TW: canon-typical violence

The lack of any victorious feeling consuming Johanna doesn’t waver as the hovercraft approaches closer and closer to the Capitol.

The sight of the city makes more tangible feelings of her loss sink in.

There’s no more Finnick.

Probably no more Virginia either.

All she has left is herself.

And honestly, what is even left of that?

A husk who hungers for a drug she hasn’t had in months. A scarred, miserable bitch who can’t sleep. She has no joy in anything. She always feels dirty and grimy.

Everyone is dead.

Why isn’t she ecstatic at the idea of Coriolanus Snow dying at Katniss’s hand today?

It makes her feel – you guessed it – angry.

That is all she has been for years, and once the Quell was over any scraps that remained of herself burned up with rage too.

Without it?

There’s nothing.

She’ll be vindicated today, but what is left after that?

Being shipped back to District 13 to be held hostage and treated like a child and pest since she can’t ‘care for herself.’

And the end of Snow’s reign won’t change the fact that every lingering effect of his actions will continue to torture Johanna for the rest of her meaningless life of isolation.

---

Their hovercraft lands on the roof of the President’s Mansion.

Johanna eyes immediately seek out Plutarch. In the last few weeks since the war ended, she knew the next time she saw him that she needed to talk to him.

She needs the answer to the question that has destroyed her for months – is Virginia alive?

She feels something exciting at the idea of calling him out for his months of deception, she wants to watch his awful face flounder.

Johanna, Annie, and Beetee are led into the mansion and to an elevator.

They all remain in silence.

Johanna surmises the victors will be on stage in the background or something during the execution.

When a dead-eyed (much older) looking Effie Trinket walks up to the trio to lead them through the mansion, Johanna is tempted to ask her about Virginia. If Effie is alive, it may mean that escorts aren’t all being indiscriminately killed by the war tribunal. It means Virginia could be alive.

Although Effie does not look stable.

What if Virginia hasn’t been tried yet? That’s if Johanna wants to be weak and let herself assume Virginia isn’t currently being eaten away at by maggots.

Would asking Effie somehow negatively affect the outcome?

Johanna decides to settle on something safer, “Can you tell Plutarch I need to see him? As soon as physically possible.”

Effie stares at her dully for a second and blinks slowly.

This bitch has been through barely any hardship and was actively a part of the system that destroyed Johanna.

And Johanna is just so tired, angry, and empty.

So she impatiently snaps her fingers, “Hey, are you listening?”

“Johanna,” Annie softly mutters.

“What? She doesn’t deserve my respect when she’s been taking joy in reaping kids for longer than I’ve been alive,” Johanna snarls. “Could you even name me one of those kids you reaped in all that time who wasn’t Peeta or Katniss?”

Effie has tears pricking at her eyes and she flounders and backpedals, “I-I.”

“Okay, so you aren’t deaf. Plutarch,” Johanna talks down to her as if Effie sustained massive head trauma during this war. “Me, Johanna Mason, needs to see him. Immediately. Got it?”

Effie nods quickly and rushes out of the room.

Johanna ignores the stares she can feel on her. She is honestly getting sick of Annie’s baffled schtick about Johanna’s transformation of aggressive apathy since Finnick’s death and the end of the war.

But Annie has no right to judge Johanna for what she has become. The only way a person survives two Hunger Games, everyone she loves being killed, forced prostitution, and being tortured as a prisoner of war (brutally tortured) is by turning into something awful and cold.

“What?” Johanna snips and sits across the pair at the conference table.

“Is treating Effie that way going to accomplish anything?” Annie says.

Johanna rolls her eyes, “She literally told my district escort to stop doing such a good job at handling me because it would pigeonhole her in a backwoods district. Just like it did with herself with Haymitch. We’ve never been people to her.”

“And would Virginia want you to treat her that way?” Beetee asks.

It takes everything in her to not lunge across the table at him, “You keep her name out of your fucking mouth if you know what’s good for you.”

“Johanna-“

She thinks she can taste blood in her mouth from how hard she is biting her cheek. The air in the room feels like it is burning out with her rage. Johanna keeps her hands in tight fists as she snarls out, “You didn’t bother to tell me shit about her for months, so you say her name one more time, I will bash your skull in with your wheelchair.”

“Fine, then I will say Archer’s name,” Beetee challenges, scooting closer to the table. “Would he want you lashing out at everyone near?”

And Johanna suddenly regrets letting herself form some weird bond with the man in the last few weeks.

“Archer was an asshole all the time, Beetee,” she scoffs and then heaves a sigh to try and calm down. He has been one of the few things close to an advocate for her as she lived in the prison that is District 13.

“In his own way sure, but you saw how he treated his tributes,” Beetee calmly says as if he isn’t scared at all. Johanna doesn’t like how he has been able to read her.

“I know that, more than you,” she says.

“Exactly, and you know how highly he thought of you,” Beetee evenly continues. He gestures between himself and Annie, “We get it, you’re grieving. Don’t treat every person in front of you like the enemy.”

Johanna rolls her eyes so hard they could almost fall out of her head, “I don’t give a shit about whatever sage wisdom you have. It’s that big brain of yours that scored me a life of barely being able to shower or drink water. And that’s not even counting all the innocent men, women, and children who have died at your hands from the weapons you designed. You have a higher kill count than me by the thousands. So stop acting so superior.”

A heavy beat of silence hangs over the room for a moment.

And she knows Beetee has no right to respond.

The tension is sliced through with the door opening, Effie is ushering Haymitch into the room. It seems she’s on the victor wrangling parade. Once an escort, always an escort.

Does that mean Virginia is dead? Is Effie the only one left?

Johanna glares at the table and digs her nails into the wood. She can’t think about that.

“Do we know what this little meeting is all about?” Haymitch asks as he moves to sit at the table.

“It’s a room full of victors obviously,” Johanna drawls.

“Johanna, always a pleasure,” Haymitch sarcastically nods at her.

She ends up impatiently crossing her arms and pointedly ignoring everyone. Johanna doesn’t say hi back to Peeta, even if she is relieved to see him. She just gives him a small nod of acknowledgement.

Enobaria – the fucking bitch – is somehow alive and for some reason in the gray District 13 uniform. Either she was recently rescued and kept in solitary confinement in District 13 or they just made her change outfits today to give some ridiculous pro-District 13 unified front. Johanna would guess the latter.

She smugly smirks at Johanna before sitting right beside her.

“Wow, you look like shit,” Enobaria greets.

Johanna huffs, “Yeah, you look like you spent months getting passed around like a party favor. That’s why they took you to the President’s Mansion, right?”

“Wow, you went right for it, big shocker there,” Enobaria nearly growls, but her intimidation is gone without those awful, sharpened teeth. She just looks old and cruel with normal teeth now.

“You’ve done a lot of fucked shit, Enobaria. Took joy in raping a seventeen-year-old for a tape, was the reason the plot almost failed, and why I got captured, but that shitty pun might be the worst thing you’ve ever done,” Johanna growls.

This makes Haymitch almost double over in hysterics. And she can’t blame him, a smirk of her own covers her face at how unintentionally funny she was. It was an awful pun.

Once the laughs peter out the group shifts into relative stilted silence. And after several boring minutes, the star of the show is brought in by Effie. The Mockingjay in her stupid outfit.

The relief Johanna thought she’d feel upon seeing Katniss alive after thinking she died several times is absent. Just like that look in Katniss’s eye.

Katniss losing Prim was like when Johanna lost Katherine.

Or this might be worse, because Katniss didn’t have the stubborn hate that Johanna had that kept her moving.

Her eyes have an empty quality that even Annie Cresta wouldn’t be capable of on her worst days. Johanna can feel how freaking miserable she is from all the way over here, and her new burn scars look so painful.

“What’s this?” Katniss asks.

“We’re not sure, it appears a gathering of the remaining victors,” Haymitch answers.

Katniss’s eyes flit across the table, “We’re all that’s left?”

“The price of celebrity,” Beetee explains. “We were targeted from both sides. The Capitol killed the victors they suspected of being rebels. The rebels killed those thought to be allied with the Capitol.”

Johanna returns to her scowling at Enobaria, she snarls “So what’s she doing here?”

“She is protected under what we call the Mockingjay Deal,” the new president in all her unelected, gray, dull glory pipes up as she enters the room. “Wherein Katniss Everdeen agreed to support the rebels in exchange for captured victors immunity. Katniss has upheld her end of the bargain and so shall we.”

Johanna wants to growl out that Enobaria was clearly not the target audience of who Katniss wanted protected in the Mockingjay deal.

She knows this detail because she asked Katniss more about the deal one night in their compartment. Katniss made that deal for Peeta first. Obviously.

And second most for Johanna. An actual rebel involved in the treasonous plot and about to be tortured for secrets. You know, for obvious reasons of Katniss holding the decent belief that tortured prisoners shouldn’t be faced with trial and punishment upon their return to ‘safety.’

And Katniss didn’t even remember to group Annie in that deal at first, she only did it as an afterthought for Finnick.

Enobaria is not on the rebels side, she was one of the biggest Capitol lovers of all the victors. Katniss just included her in being fair since she was a captured victor too.

And it is insulting that someone like Enobaria received the same protection after everything Johanna went through.  

Enobaria smiles at Johanna, even with her teeth normal, she still is like an evil Capitol mutt to Johanna. She sees the woman who did awful things to her, but she also sees the tribute of the third Quarter Quell.

The bloodthirsty person who did everything in her power to try to kill Johanna in the bloodbath. The person who slit Cecelia’s throat and let her die by choking to death on her blood while knowing her children were forced to watch from home.

When Johanna ran past Cecelia’s dying body in the arena, she vowed to kill Enobaria for everything she did.

And arena or not, Johanna still wants to follow through on it.

“Don’t look so smug,” Johanna says. “We’ll kill you anyway.”

“Sit down, please, Katniss,” Coin instructs.

President Coin takes to the head of the table and looks like such a polished turd. Johanna wonders if her own lack of excitement at the war ending is because they replaced Snow with someone else who is a different type of awful.

“I’ve asked you here to settle a debate,” Coin begins. “Today we will execute Snow, in the previous weeks hundreds of his accomplices in the oppression of Panem have been tried and now await their own deaths. However, the suffering in the districts has been so extreme that these measures appear insufficient to the victims.”

Johanna has to bite her lip to not growl out what the fuck Alma Coin would even begin to know about what suffering the districts suffered when District 13 sat unharmed and watched it happen from afar.

“In fact, many are calling for the complete annihilation of those who held Capitol citizenship.”

Johanna bristles at that. And if her fears of Virginia’s death didn’t seem cemented this does it. That seems like a massive overreaction considering most of the Capitol’s treachery was held by the elite and richest. How many innocent families like Virginia’s would face the consequence?

The brief suggestion adds to Johanna’s desire to go fuck off into the woods in a cabin to spend the rest of her days in isolation this is such shit.

“However, in the interest of maintaining a sustainable population, we cannot afford this.”

Ah yes, human life is so valuable to this woman, Johanna thinks with an eye roll.

“So an alternative has been placed on the table. Since my colleagues and I can come to no consensus it has been agreed that we will let the victors decide. A majority of four will approve the plan, no one may abstain from the vote.” Coin says. “What has been proposed is that in lieu of eliminating the entire Capitol population, we have a final symbolic Hunger Games, using the children directly related to those who held the most power.”

All seven heads turn in unison to look at her in varying forms of shock.

“What?” Johanna asks.

“We hold another Hunger Games using Capitol children,” Coin repeats.

“Are you joking?” Peeta asks.

“No, I should also tell you that if we do hold a games, it will be known it was done with your approval. Although the individual breakdown of your votes will be kept secret for your own security.”

“Was this Plutarch’s idea?” Haymitch asks in disbelief.

“It was mine,” Coin says. “It seemed to balance the need for vengeance with the least loss of life. You may cast your votes.”

It’s all happening too fast, like this is a decision they all should’ve had more than two minutes to deliberate on. Because Johanna has been struggling and drowning in emptiness since this war ended, but now her mind is swelling with this new proposal.

She can’t think the long term beyond knowing that there are people in charge who want to wipe the entirety of the Capitol out. Johanna doesn’t want that and if she had to pick between the two this is a far less damaging option. But even if they don’t promise to wipe out the Capitol, how should she vote?

Like her hotheaded anger, the answer boils and forms like a vortex in her skull.

The word vengeance in Coin’s annoying accent echoes in her skull.

One of the emotions that made Johanna keep living. One of the emotions that got her to join the rebellion. One of the emotions now simmering out with those she hated being executed.

But it doesn’t feel like their punishment of death is enough. If she has to go on living with total loss, very little justice is actually served knowing all those idiots died with a quick bullet to the head.

She mainly thinks of the worst one who took everything from her. The main tormenter of all the victors.

The disgraced Coriolanus Snow.

For a moment, she thinks back to her life a million years ago. Before she was reaped, before she was even an aunt. When Willow was pregnant with Jack, she remembers seeing Capitol news reports of the birth of President Snow’s granddaughter.

How different is that little girl than Jack? Other than the fact that she has had zero struggle and was probably kept in a wing of the mansion protected and fed the entire war.

But Jack would be turning ten this year, just like Snow’s granddaughter.

Life had been cruel to Jack since his conception and birth. He was born from a desperate teen selling herself to Peacekeepers, he watched his aunt be reaped and forced to kill kids in arenas, and slowly he watched as his family was picked off after. He had a despicable death when trying to scream out his agony, begging to be heard.

But Johanna doesn’t think she’s ever felt the severity of the cruelty of Jack’s demise until this very moment. He would be turning ten this year and the Games are over.

It means her nephew would never once have to wake up on July fourth consumed by the fear of his name being called. He would never have to calculate the number of times his name was in the bowl. He would never be shoved into a train car like cattle and made to stand in the crowds of children awaiting their fate. And it is even more cruel, because Snow basically promised Johanna when Jack was alive that he would be reaped at some point.

And now that wouldn’t even be possible.

Her nephew could’ve lived a life without facing reapings.

A normal, peaceful, happy life.

If he hadn’t been killed.

The loss of him and everyone else makes Johanna a hollowed out ghost now with no actual retribution for all she lost at the end of the war.

But if she can hurt Snow in the exact same way he hurt her?

Why wouldn’t she take that?

“No! I vote no, of course!” Peeta bursts out. “We can’t have another Hunger Games!”

“Why not?” Johanna retorts. “It seems very fair to me.”

Fairness – something Johanna has never been afforded, but maybe now is her chance to claim and snag up that fairness for herself. To hurt Snow the same way he destroyed her.

“Snow even has a granddaughter,” Johanna explains and it is reason enough. “I vote yes.”

“So do I,” Enobaria indifferently hums. “Let them have a taste of their own medicine.”

“This is why we rebelled, remember?” Peeta exclaims, looking at everyone desperately. His eyes move across Johanna’s face like he doesn’t recognize her before he looks around, “Annie?”

“I vote no with Peeta. So would Finnick if he were here,” Annie replies.

“But he isn’t, because Snow’s mutts killed him,” Johanna reminds her intently. She looks into the green eyes of her ally in these last few weeks trying to understand how this freshly pregnant widow could still uphold such a belief while knowing it was Snow who killed Finnick. That the world is free but Finnick never got to see it.

“No, it would set a bad precedent,” Beetee says. “We have to stop viewing one another as enemies. At this point unity is essential for our survival. No.”

“We’re down to Katniss and Haymitch,” Coin says.

“I vote yes, for Prim,” Katniss mutters while staring at the white rose she brought in.

“Haymitch it’s up to you.”

Peeta pounds his fist on the table, and is spewing at Haymitch how he will become a party of such an atrocity. But Haymitch only looks at Katniss.

“I’m with the Mockingjay,” Haymitch says.

“Excellent, that carries the vote. Now we must really take our places for the execution.”

Within five minutes of the vote, Johanna is led to a spot to stand on stage beside Annie and the other victors.

Katniss walks out with her bow in hand. Everything is dead silent as she draws back her singular arrow.

She hesitates for several seconds and Johanna’s own heart races in anticipation of Snow dying. The entire nation basically inhales all at once.

And then like a flash of light refracting through water, Katniss aims higher at the last second and releases the arrow.

Her eyes don’t have time to register the altered target until President Coin’s dead body collapses off the stage.

Johanna barely has wrapped her mind around what she has seen but the chaos erupts in slow motion.

The first thing she registers is Coriolanus Snow’s awful laugh.

It is almost as if for a beat everyone freezes, and his laugh is like a gong has gone off.

The first burst of motion in the entire Capitol is on the opposite side of Annie – Peeta racing directly at Katniss.

Johanna blinks dumbly and the crowd floods like a dam bursting. Being on stage beside this makes it feel like people are racing at her for a moment. Within a few seconds, rebels in uniform with guns are barricading and trying to corral the last few victors into the safety of the President’s Mansion before the growing riot becomes too out of hand.

People bump into and around her. Fingers delicately wrap around her wrist and Johanna looks over to see Annie who is clutching onto her while people begin dissecting her out of the crowd. Johanna tries to look around for Beetee, to help him but it is full madness.

The loud swelling of rioting in the air is silenced like a lid on a jar when Johanna and Annie are deposited into a sitting room.

“What-“

“Just stay here,” the man insists. “We will come get you.”

“I will absolutely break the door down, if you aren’t fast enough,” Johanna huffs.

The room is silent after that, and she plops onto a lush velvet couch across from the armchair Annie slumps into.

The room smells faintly of roses and wood cleaner. It is arguably the comfiest and fanciest room she’s been in since she was reaped again. But Johanna can’t even enjoy it, her mind just slogs trying to wrap her head around what just happened.

“What the fuck was that?” Johanna eventually voices.

Annie shakes her head, “I-I don’t know.”

They both settle in, knowing this will likely be a stint of waiting several hours. There is a wall filled with shelves of books and a chess board that helps them pass the time.

It isn’t until the second hour of waiting that everything sinks in and Johanna angrily throws the book in her grasp onto the ground – Katniss didn’t keep her promise she made to Johanna. She didn’t kill Snow.

Sure, this morning Johanna was pissed over the fact that the assholes in District 13 basically just replaced the Capitol’s government with another shitty power-tripping president, but she didn’t expect this.

The idea that Snow is possibly still alive is revolting.

And the fact that Katniss probably didn’t even think of that promise at all, because why would she? Johanna is some random chick she knew for a few months and went through an arena together. They aren’t close. Johanna meant nothing to her.

As more of the gravity sinks in, it is Annie who first voices the realization that slowly moved like syrup in Johanna’s brain.

“Do you think she-“ Annie cuts herself off. “Because of the Capitol Games?”

As soon as Annie verbalizes it, it solidifies in Johanna’s mind. Johanna can understand Katniss decently well and that had to have been it. It was Snow’s games, war, and bombs that took Katniss’s sister, but maybe she was trying to prevent it from happening in any capacity. Even if that meant letting that awful snake live another day.

“Probably,” Johanna angrily spits out and stomps over to the shelves. She begins skimming the titles on the spines and begins pulling certain ones out to stack the books she wants to steal. If they’re going to lock her in the President’s Mansion she might as well get a souvenir out of it.

Annie gets up and quietly pads beside Johanna to whisper, “Why’d she say yes then?”

Johanna shrugs, “So she could ensure she would be able to pull the job off? I don’t know what that kid was thinking.”

“Maybe she was thinking that there was no guarantee that those games would only be a ‘one-time’ symbolic thing,” Annie voices, gentle but with the smallest bits of accusation lacing her tone. “That Coin replacing the government with her own could ensure the games would continue like before but for Capitol children.”

“If you want to say something to me, then say it, Annie,” Johanna huffs after loudly slamming a book onto the ground which makes Annie scamper away a bit.

“I don’t think you thought about the long-term effects of your vote, you were only focused on getting even with Snow,” Annie says ridiculously quiet for how bold of a statement it is.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were doing lessons with your head doctors in your down time,” Johanna scoffs and deflects that information from even sinking in.

Annie’s eyes are too clear and knowing as she just looks at Johanna for a second.

Johanna turns her back to her and huffs, “I made that clear when I voted it was about Snow. Sorry if the two minutes we were given to decide made it hard to think far into the long-term. So maybe you aren’t as smart as you think.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t go through now, because if it does,” Annie begins and sighs. She doesn’t talk again until Johanna returns to her own seat with a new book in hand, “I think you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

The words are like yelling into a void.

Johanna can feel deep down that maybe Annie’s words are too accurate and hitting close to home, that her anger may have made her short sighted in that moment. But she just doesn’t care or feel anything, it’s like she is disconnected from herself. Because Annie says she’d regret it for the rest of her life. But Johanna can’t even picture her life continuing.

So how could regretting it the rest of her life be worse than anything else she’s been saddled with?

---

Plutarch arrives almost six hours later when Johanna is literally about to try and construct some battering ram to get out of this room, because of her own hunger and Annie’s bladder.

Thankfully, he gets to the point quickly as he leads them out. He also doesn’t bother to question Johanna slinging a blanket filled with books over her shoulder.

“Katniss is in solitary confinement, awaiting trial. With Coin’s death and no successor an emergency election will take place. Most motions passed by Coin have been halted.”

“Who’s in charge now?”

“Rebel leaders from each district have all appointed one official to represent them, all hold temporary and equal power to each other right now.”

“So, Thirteen isn’t in charge anymore?” Annie asks.

“Correct, well not totally in charge. The Capitol and District 13 also have a representative in this interim leadership. But we can hopefully use this to restructure things more democratically.” Plutarch says dismissively, as if he doesn’t care if Coin died or not.

“Okay, who cares – is Snow dead?” Johanna bluntly asks.

Plutarch almost belly laughs, “Oh, absolutely. Horribly dead. And that's coming from a Gamemaker.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Johanna’s mouth.

“From initial assessment he was either trampled or choked on his blood,” Plutarch says.

Johanna feels a flicker of wonderous vindication.

Maybe Katniss killing Coin instead of Snow was the best fucking gift Katniss could give her. It makes her warm and fuzzy inside to know that Snow died slow and horribly, not with anything as merciful and quick as an arrow to the heart.

“Where are we going?” Annie asks when Plutarch leads them out a side door and holds open the door of a black stretch car open for them to climb in.

“No hovercrafts tonight?” Johanna asks.

“Not exactly,” Plutarch says with an exhale as he sits in a seat across from them.

The car slowly rumbles and pulls away.

“Neither of you are permitted to go back to District 13.”

“Excuse me?” Johanna says with a chuckle. “They aren’t allowing us back.”

“Because of your association with Katniss,” Plutarch explains. “If you went back, the Mockingjay Deal would be null and void. You’d both have to face a trial.”

“That would’ve been rigged to kill us,” Johanna finishes.

“Again, because of your association with Katniss – yes,” he says.

“Couldn’t they just try us here?” Annie asks, gesturing to the Capitol outside the window nearest to her.

“No, because if they tried it is likely every single representative would shoot it down,” Plutarch says. “Myself, included as I am the Capitol’s interim representative.”

“Congrats,” Johanna grumbles with an eye roll. “So where are we going?”

“Since neither of you are quite medically cleared to return to your home districts and we have no idea the states of your actual homes, you’ll be admitted full time to a very luxurious wing of a hospital.”

“A Capitol hospital?” Johanna hisses.

“A hospital in the Capitol run by rebels,” Plutarch corrects. “Privately owned, and any Capitol loyal doctors are long gone from there.”

“So you’re sticking us in another loony bin like District 13?” Johanna scoffs.

“In the meantime, that is the case,” Plutarch says. The car is already decelerating, and he is rushing out of the backseat and leading them in through a side door.

She doesn’t have any time to ask him about Virginia. She barely has time to call after him about Prim’s cat being stuck in their compartment in District 13. He offers a nod like he is taking in the information but doesn’t provide a response.

---

Their new shared room is already leaps and bounds better than their coffin in District 13. Even if this is the loony bin, there is a window – it doesn’t open more than a crack to prevent someone from launching themselves out of it.

She lays flat on her back and grinds her jaw to try and scrub out the irritation that after everything today, she didn’t get to ask Plutarch about Virginia.

And the only other thing Johanna can think about is Buttercup. Prim asked Johanna and Annie to take care of him, but now he is probably going to starve in that room since neither were allowed to return to whatever that shit box equivalent of a home was.

“Johanna, I can hear you grinding your teeth all the way over here,” Annie eventually states.

“Then put your hands over your ears, isn’t that your signature headcase move?”

Annie sighs, “Johanna-“

“Shut up,” Johanna grumbles and turns onto her side to face away from her. “They only shoved us together because of how it was in Thirteen. I only talk to you, because Finnick wanted me to look out for you. So stop trying to be my friend when I know you’re looking down on me. You aren’t better than me for voting no.”

Annie winces.

A few moments pass, and Johanna just feels nothing. No anger, no guilt.

Annie heaves a sigh, “You know, Finnick asked me to look out for you too, right?”

The words slice through the silence and slam into Johanna’s lungs like a sucker punch.

It’s the first time she really feels something outside of sick excitement about the man who took everything from her being trampled and choking to death on his own stupid blood.

The words stay lodged and hitch behind her ribs.

Johanna keeps her eyes pinched shut.

She actually mattered to Finnick. She wasn’t some crutch while in the Capitol. She wasn’t someone he took under his wing out of pity.

Johanna just mattered.

She sighs weakly and can’t hide the pain in her voice behind snark or contempt as she simply says, “No. I didn’t know that, Annie.”

Several moments pass, but that response extinguishes the initial hostility and unease from Johanna’s outburst. Annie’s breathing remains the same. Neither even try to sleep.

“Johanna?”

“What?” she grumbles.

“Who’s Virginia?”

That knot that lodged under her ribs turns into a choked sob. Johanna curls in on herself and bites into her fist. Beetee had mentioned her earlier today before everything went to hell, she doesn’t know why Annie latched onto it but its like salt in a gaping wound. Actually, it is worse than that since she has literally had salt poured on a gaping wounded when she was being tortured.

“Jo-“

“Not right now, Annie,” Johanna sadly says. She swallows thickly and hates how weak she sounds, “Please.”

“Okay,” Annie quietly answers.

Nobody talks and the stillness turns to the sounds of uneasy nightmares in a room with two of the last few surviving victors.

---

It takes all night and the next morning for Johanna to work up the courage to offer a simple answer.

“She was my Annie,” Johanna suddenly announces, bleak and empty, as the pair walk laps around the hospital yard.

Even as patients here, they have more freedom than District 13 and it is nice to feel the sun on her skin.

“Virginia?” Annie asks.

Johanna silently nods and stares down at the earth as she kicks a rock forward.

Annie pats Johanna’s shoulder in comfort, and she lets herself not stiffen at the contact.

It took barely anything to upgrade, but as the sun shines and snow crunches under their shoes it’s closer of a feeling to home than anything was in Thirteen. And at least for now, Annie is here.

Notes:

okay while i obviously agree with the fan consensus that johanna voting yes is awful, i think many people simplify it too much.

Like Katniss wasn't the only victor Coin was manipulating, she was manipulating all of them (Katniss was just a more important chess piece). But she literally threw that vote at them and made them immediately vote with no time to think about it, she wanted all of their visceral answers.

Johanna has nothing but a quick temper and grief, so she will latch onto anything that feels vindicating or fair. I always took her mentioning Snow's granddaughter as it being completely personal, emotional, and short-sighted. Not about her being keen on the policy. (Also re-reading the series as an adult, she's ONLY 21, that's so freaking young.)

Also, for awhile i headcannoned that Annie and Johanna were immediately refused re-entry into District 13 after the assassination because of sheer political association. what do ya'll think?

A huge thank you to all those who read! I appreciate any comments/kudos/bookmarks, and i always love hearing what you think :)

Up next in Chapter 11: Johanna is called as a witness in Katniss's trial. She finally confronts Plutarch. And the mental ward's newest victor patient is upset with Johanna for her vote.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Summary:

An emergency election unfolds, Johanna learns what a subpoena is, and the newest victor patient is pissed at Johanna for her vote.

Two days later, Johanna and Annie are already settled into a similar routine to their one in District 13. Although this new routine at least has outdoors, sunlight, much more freedom to roam, more forms of entertainment, and a lot more therapy.

Johanna finishes folding her sixteenth paper crane out of the pages of one of the dozens of books she stole from the President’s Mansion. Annie is braiding intricate bracelets out of colorful string she requested.

Earlier this morning she gave Johanna one silently, she made no big deal out of it like Johanna needed. It’s in multiple shades of green, probably to remind Johanna of home. She didn’t do anything as embarrassing as putting it on, but she shoves the thing in the breast pocket of the pink scrubs issued to all the mental patients here.

The quiet, thoughtful gesture does more for Johanna’s empty chest and lonely brain than about a full month of her shoddy therapy in District 13.

Plutarch was telling the truth when he said all the doctors here were at a minimum rebel sympathizers, but many were actual rebels. And they may have grown up in the Capitol, which is easier than district, but it means they aren’t like the sheltered District 13 quacks.

It still sucks that they were literally not allowed to go back, but this is at least an upgrade from District 13. Not by much though.

Johanna finishes putting four cranes onto a string and walks over to set it on Annie’s beside table.

“Thanks,” Annie says with a small, genuine smile before turning back to the dozenth bracelet she is weaving.

Johanna settles back at the foot of her own bed and leans against the brick wall when a soft knock sounds on the door. The pair both look up at their visitors.

Haymitch and Plutarch.

Maybe Effie finally did her fucking job and Johanna can ask Plutarch about Virginia.

Or at a minimum, maybe Plutarch at least got in contact with someone in Thirteen to either let Buttercup out or give him to someone else to keep him from starving to death. Both her and Annie called him yesterday to bug him about it.

But her hope is quickly extinguished as Plutarch skips any pleasantries and dives right into things, not bothering to ask if either victor is okay that they have been denied reentry into the place they’ve lived in for months. He doesn’t care that both girls were prisoners in the Capitol months ago, and how being trapped in a Capitol hospital may fucking suck a ton.

“You both are going to be subpoenaed for Katniss’s trial.”

“The fuck is a subpoena?” Johanna grumbles.

“The courts are requiring you attend as they may ask you to testify,” Plutarch says.

“Why?” Johanna says with an eye roll.

“The same reason they didn’t allow you both back into District 13 – the Mockingjay Deal,” Haymitch easily explains. His eyes are bloodshot and he is greasy in a way that she knows he is no longer sober.

“So is fucking Enobaria going to be put on the stand against her will too then?” Johanna challenges

“None of this is against your will, Johanna,” Haymitch sighs. “Both your doctors will need to approve you are of sound enough mind to take the stand.”

“Considering they don’t give me a knife to whittle with, and I’m not allowed to go home,” Johanna sasses. “I’m probably not of sound mind.”

“Johanna,” Annie quietly admonishes, before turning to both men. “So, are you two ultimately deciding and then our doctors will sign off on it?”

Plutarch nods, “Yes, very smart, Annie.”

Even now, he’s so condescending.

“And Johanna, Enobaria is going to be subpoenaed but won’t be called to the stand. The only reasons that tribunal hasn’t killed her is, because of Katniss’s protection of her. Having someone like her take the stand won’t help Katniss’s nor the prosecution’s case,” Plutarch adds.

“And we can help?” Johanna crosses her arms and challenges.

“Yes, both of you. And you especially, Johanna,” Plutarch responds.

She raises her eyebrows in mock amusement, “Oh? And why might that be, Plutarch?”

“You and Katniss went through an arena together, were roommates, had a rough relationship that evolved to friendship.”

“After she stuck her neck out for you,” Haymitch peppers in.

Johanna turns her glare to Haymitch, “I didn’t need her fucking Mockingjay Deal. I would have come out of that stupid tribunal squeaky clean. I never blabbed. Didn’t I fucking lead some of them astray for like weeks in the Wilds north of Seven from my lying during torture? Didn’t you say that a few weeks ago, Plutarch?”

“Exactly,” Plutarch nods shortly. “So, they will think highly of your toughness. Whether you wanted Katniss’s immunity deal or not, you benefited from it. But the tribunal knows you didn’t break despite how horrific the torture was.”

“It will give you more than solid credibility,” Haymitch adds.

“I seriously don’t lose that credibly for being in a loony bin?”

Haymitch shakes his head, “Nope, the lawyers will easily frame that as all the younger surviving victors are being treated with extra care post-war to adjust to the new way.”

“I will do it,” Annie says easily. “Are we supposed to say something specific or just answer their questions?”

“Really, Annie? I thought you’re supposed to be a perfect good, reformed Career, denouncing all things bad like the Games. Lying on the stand to do Plutarch’s shitty bidding?” Johanna scowls and glares over at her. “Isn’t lying on the stand a crime alone?”

“Johanna, she’s facing execution,” Haymitch pleads.

It’s the first time his gruff voice isn’t matter of fact and getting to the point. It is pained and agonized. And when Johanna looks at him, he is sporting an expression nearly identical to how Beetee looked in the arena after Wiress was killed.

He’s Katniss’s mentor. Haymitch is just doing what Archer would’ve done for Johanna or what Mags would’ve done for Finnick if they were in this boat.

“Are we supposed to say miss-can’t-miss suddenly got shitty aim or something?” Johanna asks Haymitch.

Plutarch holds up a finger, “Not quite, and we don’t want to feed you a script, just –“

“I’m not talking to you, Plutarch,” Johanna snaps.

He blinks in offense.

“I’m talking to Haymitch, who actually gives a shit about Katniss,” Johanna clarifies. “Haymitch?”

“I care about Katniss,” Plutarch indignantly mutters.

“You care about what she provided for you, just like you did with Virginia,” Johanna nearly snarls. It still almost makes her retch saying Virginia’s name out loud, knowing what it means. “You groomed her, she told me you were one of the main ones.”

“What?” Annie nearly exclaims.

Even Haymitch nearly gives himself whiplash to glare over at Plutarch.

His doughy face turns a shade of red and he holds up his hand, “Woah, woah. Not the grooming you two are thinking.”

The heat in the room is almost sweltering from his panicked covering.

“No, you didn’t want to fuck her,” Johanna chuckles meanly. “You just strong armed an eleven-year-old into a life-sentence as a spy and dangled her dying kid sister as bait. Then manipulated and trained her into a tool.”

“Johanna, we are not here to discuss that,” Plutarch counters, irritated.

“I am here to discuss that. And the fact that I know, Plutarch,” Johanna is spitting mad and jumps to her feet to stride across the room. She stands five feet away from the man, but she relishes that he almost takes a minor step back at how she charges at him. “I overheard you in Thirteen my first week there.”

Beautifully, Plutarch gapes like a dying fish for a few seconds.

“You lied to me, told me basically nothing beyond hoping for her death as that would be best for her. You did it so you could control me and called that bullshit false hope.” Johanna hisses. She crosses her arms and glares evenly into Plutarch’s eyes, and holds up one finger, “Now, Plutarch. I am giving you one fucking chance.”

He swallows audibly.

“I will go up there and say whatever you need me to so Katniss gets off scot-free. Easy as that, I know you both think I’m some cruel bitch. But unlike you two, Katniss actually helped me. I was on the other side of her defender of the helpless thing, and you know what? She never wanted anything from me in return. So yes, I will. But on the condition that you are straight and honest with me now, Plutarch.”

“About what?” he tensely asks.  

“Virginia,” Johanna says with a shrug. “You said she was in custody and a low priority prisoner being occasionally tortured from being named. I want every detail you know and for you to tell me if she is alive or not. Ideas of where I can even start to look to try and find her.”

“And if I don’t tell you what you want to hear? What will you do? Throw Katniss under the bus?” Plutarch asks.

Johanna throws her head back and laughs, “No. I just won’t testify if you lie. And clearly, you need me to some degree to help plead her case.”

Haymitch immediately turns to look at Plutarch. Johanna can see the cracks in his armor, he’s clearly sick with worry at Katniss’s fate.

“So Plutarch, will you be honest? Or are you still a coward like you were in that bunker in District 13?” Johanna goads.

He nods smally, “I will need to ask around a bit more. Will that work for you, Johanna?”

“You have no clue right now? Or do you need time to formulate a lie?”

Plutarch sighs, “All I can tell you right now based on what I know is that there has been no war tribunal for Virginia Venatrix yet. Whether that means she is dead or alive, I am none the wiser. There are dozens of hospitals and pop-up care centers in the Capitol right now, so it would take a lot of time to track someone down.”

“Yet? Why does she need to face a tribunal at all?”

“It’s procedure.”

“If fucking Effie Trinket wasn’t killed for her complicity Capitol bootlicking bullshit, then Virginia shouldn’t be for a role you and the rebels forced her into, Plutarch,” Johanna spits out and takes a predatory step closer to him. “They’ll say she killed those six kids and Blight, but what about the almost fifty children Effie got off for killing?”

“Effie did have a tribunal, and she just barely survived it,” Plutarch impatiently huffs. “I’ve known Virginia for over half her life. I was the only one who was kind to her when she became a recruiting goal,” Plutarch says. For the first time ever, he almost sounds emotionally exhausted. “If she is even alive to face a trial, I will be in her corner to try and prevent those charges of murder.”

“Wow,” Johanna mocks and slowly smashes her hands together, obnoxiously clapping loud enough to make Annie cover her ears for a second. She can’t control the bubbling anger and her sarcastic mocking gets louder, “You are such a fucking stand-up guy, Plutarch. What would all of us do without you treating us like disposable pawns?”

She’s beginning to scream, and she can hear shuffling from the hall.

Someone in scrubs opens the door, “Is everything okay in here?”

“Plutarch is triggering my big scary arena and torture emotions, please remove him,” Johanna drawls sarcastically. “Why would my medical staff try to traumatize me again by putting a big bad Head Gamemaker in front of me?”

Plutarch gasps in irritation when the nurse waves at him to follow him out of the room.

“He can stay,” Johanna tacks on and nods at Haymitch.

The room sits in heavy still silence after Plutarch is led out. Johanna watches through the glass until he turns down the hall.

She turns to Haymitch, “I’ll help with Katniss, but I knew that would be the only way I could get a half-honest truth out of that slimy human garbage.”

Haymitch nods and swallows, “Thank you, Johanna. And I have tried asking about her, I asked Effie but it sent her into this wild spiral.”

“Yeah, she made Annie and I look sane enough to run this mental ward.”

Annie covers her mouth and lets out a tiny laugh. Johanna glances over at her, not hiding her impressed expression that Annie actually has a sense of humor.

“Did you hear what happened to the person who named her?” Johanna asks. “Isolde, the Gamemaker ex.”

“Yes, she was killed in captivity.”

“Good,” she quips.

The three of them lull into silence for a beat.

Haymitch shuffles a bit and reaches for the door, “Maybe I can come by tomorrow and you two can tell me what you think you may want to say for Katniss.”

Johanna nods and shuffles back to her bed as Annie agrees and bids Haymitch goodbye.

---

Annie is smart enough to not bring up the elephant in the room right away.

But as Johanna and Annie walk through the line with trays and receive boring dinners, Johanna bristles in anticipation knowing that Annie will bring it up. The pair move to a table in the corner to avoid the watchful eyes of all the other patients.

“So what do you think you’re going to say for the trial?” Annie quietly asks while stirring her spoon around her bowl.

Johanna shrugs, “I know how to manipulate those idiots, how do you think I survived torture?”

“Haven’t figured it out yet then?” She asks with a wry smile.

That makes Johanna cough out a laugh, “Yeah, that. You?”

Annie shrugs, “I don’t know. It’s hard because even if they froze a lot of her motions, most of those people on the court are still Coin’s people.”

“Yeah,” Johanna hums and pushes her spoon around her bowl. “When’s the emergency election decided anyways?”

“Next Tuesday.”

Both Johanna and Annie turn at the sound of the familiar voice.

Peeta is standing there with his own tray in hand and dressed in the pink scrubs identical to both Annie and Johanna.

“Peeta, hi!” Annie says brightly, “Want to sit with us?”

He nods and moves to sit beside Annie, “Hey Annie, how have you been?”

Johanna scowls down into her bowl before scooping a heaping bite of potato stew into her mouth. As she is chewing and looks up, Annie’s eye catches Johanna’s with a small touch of confusion.

And Johanna is of equal confusion. Out of the pair, Johanna has more of a history and friendship with Peeta, but he is acting like Johanna isn’t even there. For a moment, Johanna thinks it is because he is still the evil mutt version of himself, but when his blue eyes catch her glare, he gives a flat nod, “Johanna.”

And she can hear in his voice that this isn’t a hijacked Peeta. Apparently, he’s too good to interact with someone like Johanna after that vote.

He looks at her like he is just done with her. The way he barely glances at her before fully turning to face Annie makes Johanna want to retract and apologize to Annie for accusing her of acting better than Johanna, because Annie didn’t hold Johanna’s vote against her. Not like this.

But clearly Peeta does.

“It’s good, Johanna and I have been roomed together like in Thirteen. But this room has a window,” Annie offers. “How long have you been here?”

“Just moved from a different hospital today,” he says simply. “I think they said my room is in the same hall as yours.”

“That’s nice,” Annie says a bit uneasily as her eyes flit towards Johanna. “Isn’t it, Jo?”

Annie’s trying to pull her into the conversation in her own nice way, but Johanna just loses her appetite when Peeta looks down into his bowl and fully ignores her.

Johanna just shoves her tray of food across the table at Annie, “I’m out of here, clearly not worthy of your company.”

“I didn’t do anything?” Annie almost asks.

“Wasn’t talking to you, Annie.”

Peeta barely looks up at her after Johanna glares at him for several moments. His grip on his spoon is so hard it makes his knuckles white yet he almost sounds indifferent as he evenly grits, “I don’t want to say anything I’d later regret.”

Johanna rolls her eyes at him and scoffs, “I’m done. I would’ve saved myself all this bullshit if I didn’t try to help you that night in the arena.”

That makes Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What are you even talking about?” he asks.

It’s almost as if she can feel the noose made of jungle vines over her neck. Her hands shake from the memory of how when throwing the vine she couldn’t get it over a branch. And when she finally did, that is when she heard him.

“I was only captured, because I was looking for you. I had the chance to take myself out, but I heard you,” she grits her jaw and shakes her head. She tips her head back and chuckles sardonically, “Never mind, I wouldn’t want to say anything I’d later regret.”

She is still snarling when she addresses Annie, “Hey maybe if you want to room with someone who isn’t a piece of shit, Peeta will take you up on that. Let’s just hope he doesn’t hit on you this time. I’m out of here.”

She spins on her heel and stomps out of the cafeteria with nowhere to hide.

---

A nurse finds Johanna hidden in the back of a linen closet where she has practically burrowed in a pile of clean sheets.

Quite unfortunately when she returns to her room, Annie is awake and clearly has been waiting for Johanna. To try and avoid talking about it, Johanna seals herself off in the bathroom. She even takes a longer shower to kill time even if it feels like bathing in acid.

But Annie is still awake when Johanna comes out to their room, she subtly watches Johanna stomp over and slump into her bed.

“He’s just a kid,” Annie offers after about five minutes of still silence hangs in the air. “He’s angry.”

“He has no right, he knows nothing about me,” Johanna hisses. She sits up quickly, “If you’re going to defend him, then get our room assignments switched tomorrow. Maybe that is for the best.”

“Johanna, I know we didn’t agree on the vote, but I don’t hold it against you. Maybe if Coin wasn’t dead and the Games went through, I’d be upset but you don’t need to act like I’m upset with you too,” Annie states.

“I don’t care if I upset you or not. And I don’t want your approval. I voted yes, and I’d do it again,” she snarls and scoops up her blankets and stomps back towards the bathroom to lock herself in for the night.

---

“Group therapy, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Johanna scoffs as she plops in one of the three empty chairs in the intimately small circle around Dr. Aurelius, he’s been the main head doctor treating all the victors. “I thought I was one of the high privacy patients.”

“It’s all victor patients in this group therapy session,” Dr. Aurelius says easily. He nods at the door where Peeta and Annie are walking into the room. Each takes a seat, Peeta obviously taking the seat that wouldn’t put him next to Johanna.

Johanna glares at Dr. Aurelius as the pair say hi to him and settle in.

“I wanted us to all have a group therapy session since some conflict within this trio has leaked into all your individual therapy sessions and progress of healing,” Dr. Aurelius says.

“Don’t group Annie into it,” Johanna says with a dismissive scoff. “She didn’t do anything. This is between Peeta and his own dislike for me.”

“Annie, do you have thoughts?” Dr. Aurelius prods as he crosses one leg over the other while uncapping his pen. “How do you think some of the conflict between Johanna and Peeta has impacted you?”

“I’m stuck in the middle and it’s stressful,” Annie replies. “I feel like they are both being too stubborn to see each other’s views and it’s like walking on eggshells around them both.”

Peeta opens his mouth as if to apologize to Annie and Johanna is holding up a finger like she wants to say something, but Dr. Aurelius takes over the group.

“Based on this conflict and what Peeta has said during sessions, I went and spoke to Beetee and Haymitch to give me more details of what went down in that meeting,” he says. “I understand there was a vote. I want to reassure you all that this ‘Capitol Games’ will never happen. The motion had no physical record of that meeting and most of Coin’s people buried that proposal when she died. It isn’t anything that will be brought up in Katniss’s trial. But it is safe for us to all talk about it here.”

“Safe,” Johanna snorts. “In the Capitol.”

“I’m trying to say nobody needs to worry about the trial, any repercussions, or political impacts if we were to open up and discuss more of the victors meeting.”

“It isn’t happening?” Peeta asks after letting out a huge heaving sigh of relief.

Annie’s face floods with relief too.

Johanna expects herself to feel something. Possibly anger for her not getting even with Snow? But she digs deep and finds what she has felt for most things lately – indifference and apathy. She doesn’t even care that the vote was for nothing.

“Correct.”

Johanna glares directly at Peeta who is pointedly not looking at her. She scoffs with disgust, “Maybe split up the emotion circles with crazy victors by our votes.”

“That isn’t a bad idea,” Peeta says simply and looks over at Dr. Aurelius.

Johanna digs her nails into her palms and grits her teeth.

“That wouldn’t-“

Johanna cuts off the doctor and snarls out the truth at the air, “Funny, did you notice how the two victors who voted yes and meant it were the only ones in that entire group to have been pimped out and sold? Neither of those little goody-two-shoes who are judging me had to deal with a reality of being raped to try and protect those they love.“

“Finnick was sold too, and he wouldn’t have voted like that,” Peeta impatiently cuts her off.

His eyes lock with hers, and Johanna can almost feel it sizzling in the air with how pissed Peeta is at her.

“But he couldn’t, because he’s dead,” Johanna dully responds. “So, it doesn’t matter what he would’ve done.”

Annie winces and glares down into her hands, trying to fight off tears.

“Okay, let’s slow down a bit,” Dr. Aurelius says. He looks placatingly at both of them, “Peeta, Johanna, clearly you’re both at odds right now.”

“I have no issue with him,” Johanna scoffs. “He’s the one who is acting all above me now.”

“Because you voted in favor of a Capitol Hunger Games!” Peeta exclaims, “After they put you through two arenas! How could you support that?”

Johanna is about to snarl out something awful but she’s surprised when it is Annie that cuts in, her voice sounding curt and stern, “Peeta, you are not being fair right now.”

“Seriously, Annie?” Peeta stops glaring at Johanna to look at Annie like she grew a second head.

“You don’t know her well enough,” Annie says simply.

It makes Johanna feel like she isn’t even here and is taking a backseat as they talk about her in front of her. She just doesn’t care anymore.

“And you do?”

“You have no clue what they put her and Finnick through,” Annie impatiently snips. It is almost her version of yelling, and it is so out of character of her that it makes Peeta sit back slowly and pulls Johanna out of the dark haze of her mind.

“Annie, would you like to elaborate on that?” Dr. Aurelius asks.

“It’s not my story to tell, and Finnick respected Johanna’s privacy so it isn’t like I know everything,” Annie explains quietly.

“Johanna, would you feel comfortable elaborating on maybe why you did vote in favor of the games?”

“I don’t owe him an explanation,” Johanna scowls.

“I don’t want you to give any explanation to Peeta,” Dr. Aurelius redirects. “I want to know where your mind was at when you voted.”

“You can reword it all you want, but you want me to explain away why Peeta should forgive me for how I voted. I have nothing to apologize for,” Johanna huffs.

“I’m not asking for you to justify or apologize,” Dr. Aurelius offers.

“Neither am I,” Annie quickly pipes up.

“Neither of you are being fair or rational towards each other,” Dr. Aurelius continues when Johanna and Peeta just stare at each other. “You’re both speaking from hurt and not reason. It is why in my professional opinion, none of the victors should’ve been put in such a situation to vote. You were not given sufficient time to think about it, most of you had been in the Quell, and were struggling with immense loss.”

“I wasn’t too fragile,” Johanna grumbles.

“It isn’t you specifically. Having such intense trauma around that and putting you all in an omnipotent position and requiring an immediate answer was horribly manipulative,” Dr. Aurelius explains. “Have you thought of it like that? That maybe you were both manipulated.”

“I’m glad I was sitting down to hear that Coin was manipulative,” Johanna scoffs. “But tell me then, how did she so simply manipulate my dumb half-brain skull?”

Dr. Aurelius looks at the other two in the group, “I can’t just disclose your own personal history to other patients.”

“Go ahead, I don’t give a shit.”

He sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose, “Well, the proposition of Capitol Hunger Games was an alternative to Coin and her people debating wanting to exterminate the entirety of the Capitol, am I correct?”

All three nod.

“Johanna, even if you realized it or not, that automatically made you want to latch on harder to the alternative option given, because of-”

“Virginia,” Johanna evenly cuts him off. She scowls into her lap, “No, doesn’t matter she is probably dead. So I didn’t vote yes as some dumb way to protect the one person I have left that nobody will bother to update me on.”

“What about the part where you mention Snow’s granddaughter? How old is she?”

Johanna almost sounds glum with weak defeat as she mutters into her chest, “Ten, the same age my nephew would have been this year.” Her words are empty and she glares up evenly into Peeta’s eye to add the pertinent detail of how he died, “If he wasn’t brutally killed in front of me and my entire district.”

She feels some sick satisfaction as she looks at Peeta who is clearly learning new horrifying facts about Johanna today. Awful things he probably couldn’t have conceptualized she could have endured. Maybe it will make him drop his superior act.

“Is that what you thought about when you voted, Johanna?” Dr. Aurelius softly prods.

“It was all I could think about,” She nods and her voice sounds thick, “He never would’ve had to worry about a reaping day. Which was especially shitty to realize since Snow practically promised me that he would’ve thrown Jack into an arena if he lived long enough.”

“He told you that?” Annie asks quietly.

“I called him out on it after J-“ her voice squeaks and dies out, unable to say his name a second time. “After my nephew died, I said he’d just do the same thing he did to another victor from my district whose son was reaped at eighteen for any mistake I made and Snow implied that was his plan.”

“I’m sorry, Johanna,” Annie offers.

Johanna shrugs, “At the time turned out to be the best-case scenario, he died young and Snow basically lost his biggest betting chip over me.”

“How old was he when he died?” Peeta asks, his voice soft and his eyes trained on the ground.

Johanna opens her mouth but something itches painfully in her chest that she knows will evolve into a sob if she says his age aloud.

“Six,” Annie answers after a few moments and she gives Johanna a cautious look. “Right? That’s what Finnick told me.”

“He told you about my family?” Johanna asks in shock.

“Of course.”

Something thick and heavy lodges painfully in Johanna’s throat, “I, can we-“

Thankfully, Dr. Aurelius is able to pick up on Johanna’s struggle to not fall apart like an unraveling sweater. He turns to Annie, “Annie, it seems you and Johanna have a lot of indirect history and care towards each other through Finnick. How does it make you feel being here together like you were in District 13?”

“Well, we get to go outside here, which is already much nicer.” Annie says and smiles a bit unsteadily, “But Finnick asked both of us to look out for each other. He may be…gone, but it helps keep the memory of him alive knowing that two of the people he loved most will look out for each other.”

“Is that why you don’t hold any ill will towards Johanna’s vote?”

Annie shrugs, “Maybe, it also helps that I have a general idea of what she’s endured and lost from Finnick. It’s enough to put myself in her shoes and see that if most people went through what she did, many would vote that way.”

“That’s very nice, Annie,” Dr. Aurelius says with a hum.

“I can understand a bit better where Johanna’s vote came from, but at the time of her vote she didn’t know the whole Capitol Games would fall through. She wanted a ten-year-old dead for who she was related to,” Peeta slowly offers. He hesitantly looks over at Johanna, “How is that any different from Snow? Would that really have felt better?”

Johanna shrugs dismissively, “I helped raise that kid. Dr. Aurelius here once said to me it’s basically an equivalent to a parent losing their child. So maybe you wouldn’t get that. Have you ever wrapped your sensitive head around what that kind of loss does to someone? And at the time of the meeting, yeah, I did want her dead. So I’m officially a bad person to you, just like Snow, huh?”

Dr. Aurelius glances between the pair and pipes up, “What went down in that meeting does not define who you are. That vote doesn’t define who you are.”

Johanna swallows thickly.

“Just like how the arena doesn’t define you,” Dr. Aurelius says with some finality.

“I don’t care what defines me,” Johanna impatiently huffs.

“I disagree, otherwise Peeta’s recent behavior towards you wouldn’t be affecting you so much.”

“Can I stop being the center of this fucking meeting?” Johanna huffs.

Thankfully, Dr. Aurelius shifts the topic. He helps Peeta and Annie work through ways to try and reassure themselves that the Games are over and that they wouldn’t slide back. Johanna tunes it out, because she doesn’t think she’d ever trust the notion that the government will just be good and fair now.

When their hour is up, Johanna practically ejects herself out of her seat.

She can feel Peeta’s blue eyes glued on her as she walks away.

---

“Mind if I join you?”

Peeta.

“I’m worthy of your company again?” Johanna bristles and tugs her jacket around herself. She makes a point to stop walking on this plowed section, venturing into deep snow. Hopefully, the depth of the snow, lack of proper footwear, and Johanna’s ease on the terrain will make Peeta unable to keep up with her.

“I wasn’t being fair to you. When I first saw you here, I still felt almost betrayed for how you voted after everything,” Peeta begins. He opens up his stride to try and keep pace with Johanna, he puffs out a breath of air that is visible from the cold. “Sometimes I can get…I’m still struggling and figuring out how to handle some of the anger I can’t control. It’s why I gave you the silent treatment, because I genuinely thought it might be the best way for me to process it without hurting you more.”

“Well, you should’ve wanted to hurt me. Since big, bad me voted for the games,” Johanna scoffs. She takes some pity and slows her stride when Peeta’s prosthetic slips on a patch of ice and he almost eats shit. Only her gripping his bicep keeps him from spilling over.

“I don’t want that and I don’t think you’re bad,” he says. “I’m glad Dr. Aurelius made us have the group session yesterday.”

Johanna won’t admit it, but maybe she is glad it happened too. Now she isn’t dealing with a cold shoulder from one of the people here who should be her closest ally.

“Did you tell me about your nephew? When we were in the cells,” Peeta asks after a few moments of silence.

Johanna blinks through her blurry memories. It isn’t like she tries to think of her time in captivity, “Yeah, one of those first nights they started hijacking you.”

“I am sorry for not remembering that,” he begins. “And I am so sorry that you lost him like that.”

She exhales painfully and can feel the warm tears in her eyes growing cold from the air, “He’s gone. Has been for years.”

“Would you ever want to tell me more about him?” Peeta offers.

“Why would you want to hear that?”

“Because I’m your friend, and you loved him,” Peeta says with a simple shrug and then he gives a good-natured smile. “Besides, I feel bad for forgetting so much about you on account of them hijacking my brain.”

“I don’t hold you to remember shit from then,” Johanna says with an empty chuckle.

“Also, I finally got a bunch of art supplies allowed in my room. If you want, I could draw a picture of him for you,” Peeta offers. When Johanna whips her head quickly to glance at him he shrugs casually, “I drew some of my brothers and dad since I don’t have any pictures.”

Something ruins her ability to speak for several moments at the possibility of actually getting to see Jack’s face again.

“Does it help?” she eventually asks.

“Drawing them helps a lot. And it’s nice to look at them when I miss them,” he offers in explanation.

“How would you even do that though? You don’t know what he looks like,” Johanna counters.

“You can describe what he looks like, and I can work from there.”

“Well, he had the same eyes as me, all my siblings did,” she smirks fondly in memory. But there are still bits of trepidation clinging onto her. “But maybe we could try that. Just…not today.”

---

The end of their first week here is finished with the presidential debate.

Since the three victors are kept semi-separated from other patients, they are led to a smaller, private TV room to watch it.

Peeta insisted they should all watch it, but Johanna feels like it is going to be boring.

“Why are there only three podiums on the stage? I thought each representative was running,” Annie comments when the programming starts and shows a simple stage with the new flag of Panem hanging behind the podium.

It is Plutarch who walks onto stage first, and Johanna really doesn’t want to listen to him talk let alone have him win a presidency.

“Hello Panem, I am Plutarch Heavensbee. I am the interim representative for the Capitol. In order to avoid the vote splitting by districts, the pool of eligible presidential candidates will be narrowed down to three of our interim representatives,” he evenly explains. “I think it is imperative a district representative is chosen to set us on the right path. It is for that reason, I am withdrawing my name from contention as a presidential candidate.”

“Thank fuck,” Johanna mutters.

“I endorse Commander Paylor from District 8,” he continues and looks over to the edge of stage. “Now the other candidates that are withdrawing from the race will announce their own endorsements.”

As each candidate comes up to the mic to announce their endorsement, Johanna decides to pay special attention to whoever represents District 7. Although after a few minutes, it is clear that all the remaining representative except for one endorse Paylor.

The odd one out is the District 2 representative who endorses the District 1 candidate.

And wonderfully so, nobody endorses the other candidate – the District 13 representative.

As the debate continues, it is clear the District 13 representative wanted to run badly but they’re crushed. Johanna honestly thinks the District 1 candidate may only be running to draw any votes away from District 13 to better ensure Paylor’s victory.

“Well, that was informative and easy to decide,” Johanna jokes as the TV turns off.

Annie and Peeta murmur sounds of agreement.

---

The next day, the trio enjoys a little field trip with one orderly accompanying them. Since none of them have any belongings, they’re permitted to browse a couple of shops until the polls open.

When they go to one of the main locations to vote, Plutarch manages to find them. He is on the edge of the room and is waving Cressida in their direction.

Johanna fights the urge to roll her eyes directly at the camera when Cressida and Pollux film the three victors leaving their individual polling booths. She’s glad that all three of them were able to buy some clothes and change into them before this otherwise they’d all be on TV in their loony bin scrubs.

Cressida asks them all a few questions about what it feels like to vote for the next leader of Panem. Mainly Peeta is filmed and interviewed for obvious reasons.

But Johanna is drained from the little exposure into the public by the time the trio return to the hospital.

All in all, it is a little surreal to do something like vote on a new leader.

---

“Here’s hoping third time is the charm,” Johanna mutters to her counterparts less than a week later as they watch President Paylor being sworn into office.

---

In the week and a half following their new president taking office, the beginnings of Katniss’s trial are being murmured about.

Haymitch begins having lunches or going on walks with Johanna and Annie pretty much every single day to try and help prepare them for what testifying will be like. They bounce ideas off him for what is smartest and best to say to keep Katniss from getting a bullet to the skull.

“The trial won’t start for another few days,” Haymitch says as he sits down across from them and slides them both packages of cookies from one of the nearby functioning bakeries since this hospital food is better than the food in District 13 but is nothing spectacular. “President Paylor has spent her time in office electing different officials to serve on the war tribunal. She did her best to weed out the most staunch District 13 appointees, but Coin burrowed some of her people in very deeply.”

“What does that mean then?” Annie asks.

“Yeah, how does a trial like this even work?” Johanna asks.

“The biggest win is that she has managed to replace the lead judge with a Capitol rebel, ally of Plutarch’s.”

“Should be easy to get Katniss off then,” Johanna supplements.

Haymitch lets out a shaky exhale and despite him being all the way across the table, if Johanna had a match lit it would turned the air around her into a ball of flames from the fumes coming off his breath.

“You’d think but not necessarily,” he sighs tiredly and rubs at his forehead. Haymitch digs his elbows into the table and keeps his face in his hands, “The prosecuting legal team and a few of the other judges on the court are District 13.”

“So it’s going to be a tight call?” Annie worriedly asks.

Haymitch sighs, “I think so. It’s why we aren’t even risking having Peeta testify, out of fear that they will try to snatch onto anything to prove he is lying for her on the stand.”

“How’s that any different than what we are willing to do?” Johanna jokes.

“Because he lied about being married and about the baby. They could take that and twist it until whatever they want to paint it as sells,” he tiredly grumbles. “Apparently the lead legal is a real shark, big fan of Coin’s and out for blood.”

“What about Katniss’s lawyers?” Annie asks.

“Plutarch and some others have gathered the best they could, but it is still no guarantee. And the trial is being aired publicly, some big thing Plutarch insisted on.” He sighs and sinks down in his chair, “It is going to be a long few weeks.”

---

Because of Johanna and Annie’s distinct fame, they aren’t required to show up to the court for the entire trial out of fear of messing up their stability or drawing attention away from where it matters.

Johanna is completely indifferent to this, but quickly becomes relieved that this is the arrangement as it takes over two weeks of the trial going on before either is even given a date on when they will be called to the stand.

A few days before they are both set to appear in court, Plutarch and Haymitch show up to check them both out for a day trip to prepare.

When Johanna even began to broach the topic of Virginia with Plutarch he very quickly brushed her off with a – still looking but no updates. It pisses her off to no end, but she also somewhat believes this from him considering Plutarch has been busy as shit since Coin died. He even leaves the girls with Haymitch after taking them to a room in the basement of a big mansion saying he’s running late for a meeting.

The room is filled with racks and racks of pretty and expensive clothing.

Haymitch quickly leaves both Johanna and Annie to shop in favor of sweeping the house for any loose bottles of liquor he can take.

“This is the only good part of this trial bullshit,” Johanna mutters as she shoves hangers.

“Free clothes,” Annie responds and holds up a shirt for Johanna to inspect.

Johanna shakes her head, “Too boring,” she shoves more shirts aside, “Here.”

Annie grabs the garment, “Ooh good eye.”

Johanna watches her rush to an area with a curtain in this room Plutarch took them to. She knows that whatever happens on the stand, she can’t worsen Katniss’s odds by any means, so she shouldn’t feel jittery. But being on camera in the Capitol puts her on edge for obvious reasons. And yeah, okay maybe she is also very worried about Katniss possibly being executed.

In Johanna’s opinion, Katniss did a two birds one stone assassination. It’s the best thing Johanna could have asked for since Snow died horribly and the hated President Coin was taken out too.

She hates Coin immensely more in these last few days when Johanna had meetings with Haymitch at loud bars – she would have a medical aid assigned to them that hung out in the corner the whole time – where he better explained some of Coin’s more despicable actions to try and take out a seventeen-year-old.

About how the woman was responsible for Prim’s death to try and destroy Katniss. And unfortunately, Katniss no longer was the girl who got to keep everything Johanna lost. She lost her sister, her reason, because of a president’s manipulation.

That is the same shit as Snow in a grayer outfit.

“What do you think?” Annie asks as she emerges and holds out her arms.

Johanna nods approvingly at the maroon silk blouse with a skirt, “That should be formal enough.”

“Did you find anything yet?”

Johanna frees a short sleeve button up behind an array of men’s clothing, “Yeah, this with my brown pants.”

“I like the pattern on the shirt,” Annie nods approvingly.

“Great, back to our cage we go,” Johanna mutters. She pauses at the door and puts a hand to Annie’s shoulder, “Should we try to force Plutarch to buy us dinner before he returns us?”

“It would beat the hospital cafeteria food,” Annie hums.

Johanna chuckles, “Let’s do it.”

---

“Please state your name for the court,” the woman in the tailored ash gray pant suit with elegant embroidery, a pearl necklace, and expensive shoes says. This is the lawyer who is supposed to save Katniss’s precious life, the lead defense attorney.

Her look painfully reminds Johanna too much of some of Virginia’s escort getups. Remaining actively professional but not sacrificing style for garish Capitol trends.

“Johanna Mason,” she stiffly answers and makes her eyes trace across the panels of judges to avoid staring directly into the camera pointed at her.

“Ms. Mason, can you tell me briefly about your history with the Games and the Capitol?” the lawyer turns and smirks a bit to the room and camera, “Just to refresh anyone if they have been living under a rock for five years.”

She is elegantly pacing and looks to the camera, almost like a less shitty Caesar Flickerman able to work with anything with charismatic ease.

Johanna snorts a laugh at this, “I’m the victor of the 71^st Hunger Games, one of the surviving tributes from the third Quarter Quell, I was one of the tributes captured and tortured for information, and now I’m one of the seven victors left alive.”

“At the time of the Quarter Quell announcement, you were the only living female victor from District 7. Is that correct?”

“Yes, it scored me more responsibility in the rebel plot.”

“Can you please elaborate more on your preparation and roles in the rebel plot?”

Johanna boredly sticks to the facts and lays out everything she was made to do in preparation, what to do in the arena, and for the breakout.

“Thank you and thank you for your contribution to the war effort there,” the lawyer responds when Johanna finishes her tiny monologue to describe how much work she had to put in before the Quell. “Would you say that this rebel plot affected your first impression of Katniss Everdeen?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“I couldn’t stand her, she got everything handed to her, and had people actively starting a war for her,” Johanna’s eyes flit to the other lawyer and multiple handfuls of judges from District 13 to glare. “The rebels made it clear I was essential up until a point and then I would be disposable, which is exactly what District 13 did on the night of the escape.”

“Objection, speculation!”

“Sustained.”

Johanna doesn’t really understand the yelling in from the other lawyer or the judge, but she looks back to the defense lawyer who gives her a calm nod and continues, “Johanna, there was a term coined for you and the other quote unquote Tier B victors. What was it?”

“Essential muscle victor.”

“An essential muscle victor,” she repeats with a tone that only amplifies the empathetic disgust for how Johanna was treated like a tool. “It is awful to see a woman who has survived what you have and be so easily disposed of by those who were supposed to be on your side.”

The other lawyer yells the same phrase and the judge brushes him off again.

“Sustained, but do get to the point here, District 13 is not on trial.”

“No, they’re not,” she says and begins pacing gracefully with her hands clasped behind her back. She begins talking almost to the panel of judges but also the cameras without directly looking to them, “I’m just establishing a pattern of behavior for how Alma Coin’s sect of the rebellion treated their victors. And this is the trial for Alma Coin’s murder by a victor.”

“Alma Coin is not on trial, objection!” the other lawyer impatiently bellows. The man is clearly meant for court underground and in front of staunch, dead faced Thirteen drones as he has no screen presence or charisma.

“Withdrawn.”

The lawyer sighs and she smiles easily, “When did your opinion of Ms. Everdeen change, Johanna?”

“That’s hard to pinpoint,” Johanna sighs. “I didn’t have some valiant, devoted gratitude to her for the Mockingjay Deal if that is what you are asking?”

“And why didn’t you feel gratitude over that?” The lawyer asks. “She did save you from facing a war tribunal.”

“I would have done just fine,” Johanna stiffly says. “I never leaked any names or information.”

“Yes, and per your own account and some spies’ intel, you actually fed the Capitol false information is that correct?”

“Yes, gave them fake names of Capitol loyalists and said they were rebels. I also told them people were  using boats to escape the western coast of District 7 hundreds of miles past the northern border.”

“And it was later reported that over two dozen people were deployed and running around in circles for six weeks following that false lead.”

“Objection, relevance.”

“Sustained.”

The woman spins on her heel and glares directly at the other attorney who is not expecting it, “The relevance is that Johanna Mason was a rebel with high intelligence secrets and never once betrayed the rebel effort, despite electrocution, waterboarding, whipping, starving, beatings,” she turns and faces Johanna, “am I missing anything else?”

Johanna almost chuckles, because the way she asks is so conversational, “You’ve got most of it covered besides the people they tortured in front of me.”

“Yes, so Johanna Mason should be seen as a more than credible witness to this court. In fact, this court that the majority panel of judges being from District 13 should fully understand the extent of this.”

Johanna glances over at the camera from the back corner and she can see how silent and entranced everyone is as it unfolds. The woman paces again and looks to Johanna, “If it weren’t the Mockingjay Deal, what changed your opinion of Katniss Everdeen?”

“After my rescue, she grew on me. I had been tortured a ton and was struggling with my recovery. Katniss and I were put in a hospital room together and decided to train together for the Capitol invasion. We held each other accountable; she brought me a gift when I failed in the Block.”

“So there was some sense of friendship, you guys spent many weeks together in District 13. In your time together did Ms. Everdeen ever say anything about President Alma Coin or District 13’s government?”

Johanna eyes the whole panel, what answer will appeal to these idiots the most? She sticks with what Virginia did to best keep her cover – cling to the truths rather than manufacturing a lie.

“I mean we were living there, and she interacted with the president on a regular basis, so sure,” Johanna states with a shrug. “Nothing outside small talk.”

“No conspiracies or plots?”

Johanna tosses her head back and cackles, “No!”

“Why is this so humorous to you?”

Johanna’s giggles die down and she wipes at the tears in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, are you really trying to imply Katniss – a teenager who was put through two arenas and active combat – had some master plan to…” she breaks off in laughter again and twirls her hand in the air, “to what?”

“To kill Alma Coin.”

Johanna chuckles and shakes her head, “No, wrong president, man. Katniss along with any other victor wanted Snow dead more than anything.”

“Then how do you explain the day of the crime?”

“A bunch of brainless, thick-skulled idiots trusted a seventeen-year-old that traumatized to remain sane enough to casually assassinate the president in front of the country.” She stops to chuckle wanly, “It was less than a month after she saw her sister burned to a crisp and after her near death, maybe this is Coin and her posse’s fault for trusting her to be all there in the head.”

“So Katniss Everdeen never explicitly said nor even implied any intent to kill Alma Coin?”

“Nope.”

“Can you tell me why you stated all victors wanted Coriolanus Snow dead?”

Johanna rolls her eyes and scoffs, “For starters, there is the obvious – we were all thrown into arenas and messed up and used. As it’s been shown, Snow used victors loved ones against them. As he got older, he got greedier, putting any above average looking victor up for sale at least once in a while. People like Finnick and me, weren’t so lucky. Once a month or so, and if you didn’t perform to standard he still killed someone you loved.”

“Is there any other ‘obvious’ reason all victors would want Snow dead?”

“The third Quarter Quell and the Victors Purge,” she evenly states.

“Also, Katniss made a promise to you before she was deployed. Can you tell me more about that?” she asks.

“When I did not qualify for the invasion, I made Katniss swear on her family’s life that she would kill President Snow,” Johanna simply states.

“Does Katniss Everdeen have any living family?”

“Yes, her mother. Asterid Everdeen,” Johanna answers.

“Do you think Ms. Everdeen intended to keep the promise she made to you?”

“Absolutely,” Johanna shrugs.

“If that were the case, based on your time around Ms. Everdeen as a: foe, ally, roommate, friend, and fellow tribute, why do you think she killed Alma Coin instead of Coriolanus Snow?”

“She was messed up in the head completely,” Johanna brashly says. “Like I said, she went through so much, was only a teenager, and the sister she volunteered for died horribly in front of her. I know what it is like being in such a state, reality doesn’t make sense and grief consumes you.”

“You are speaking from experience?”

“Yes,” Johanna says and for the first time since her voice is uneven and she looks down to the handkerchief she yanks out of her pocket. She fiddles with it like Beetee and his wire, “My sister, Katherine, was my Prim. Peacekeepers blew her brains out right in front of me when I was stuck in a crowd. Everyone was dead after that so I just lost it, destroyed my home.”

The lawyer clicks a remote in her hand and it shifts to a picture of several magazine covers in the weeks following Katherine’s death. It’s a bunch of pictures of the large oak tree destroying her fence with a giant hole smashed in a window – the headlines were mocking her for having a breakdown.

“If you were given an axe and put in Katniss’s position freshly after Katherine’s death, do you think you’d be in your right mind to follow through on it perfectly?”

Now it’s the first time she has to lie on the stand, but she’s incredibly skilled at that. She shrugs, “Absolutely not.”

“Thank you, the defense rests.”

Johanna shifts a bit uncomfortably in her seat, feeling sweat sticking to the collar of her shirt as the charismatic Capitol woman returns to her bench and the gray drone gets up and mechanically walks towards her.

“Ms. Mason, you are claiming that the defendant was not of sound mind to carry out the assassination and that she isn’t culpable for being a teenager-“

“Objection, leading!” the woman stands up and slams her hands on the table.

“Sustained.”

The man continues, “But I feel it is pertinent we bring to the court’s attention that she was mentally cleared for combat. Something you weren’t even cleared for yourself.”

“That was months ago,” Johanna laughs dismissively at his undercutting statement at her. “And sure she was mentally cleared for combat, but was she cleared after said combat? You know before she was handed a loaded weapon and told to assassinate Snow.” Johanna sasses and fights the urge to look at Cressida and her cameras to smirk at whoever is watching.

“I must say, Ms. Mason, I am a bit surprised you are being so defensive about Ms. Everdeen. You do know that lying on the stand is a crime?”

“I’m not lying,” Johanna crosses her arms and scoffs.

“So you aren’t being defensive as Ms. Everdeen as some sort of feeling like you owe her?”

Johanna rolls her eyes again, “Where you too dumb to pay attention to the other lawyer? I well established I don’t owe her anything.”

“Okay,” the lawyer mutters and puts his hands behind his back before he smirks a bit and continues, “So you don’t feel like you owe her for her letting you steal her morphling drip?”

Johanna blanches and she feels her throat close as all the blood drains from her face, “Excuse me.”

“Objection, what proof do you even have of something like this?” The other lawyer pipes up.

Johanna grits her jaw and tries to keep her face straight, but she is suddenly feeling like she is flailing. Haymitch’s eyes lock with hers from the crowd and he tries to give her a reassuring nod and gestures for her to breathe.

She wasn’t expecting this.

They’re attacking her character so they can dismiss Johanna’s statement.

The poorly formed scab over her shame over her addiction makes it feel like she is drowning in acidic water.

Annie gives Johanna a small thumbs up.

She shuts her eyes and tries to breathe evenly until the lawyers and judge sort out if she can continue being questioned about this.

“As you can see from their medical charts, Katniss’s bloodstream didn’t have the drug several days prior to the rib procedure when the drip was officially taken away. Within that night, Ms. Mason exhibited multiple signs of morphling withdrawal.”

“Are you asking me something?” Johanna grumbles when he stops and just looks at her.

“Your medical staff noted that you were likely stealing her drugs. This evidence supports it. So if we want to talk about a victors credibility as you mock about Ms. Everdeen being expected to shoot President Snow, why would you be a credible source of character?”

“Wow,” Johanna scoffs.

“Well to look at it objectively – you went through two arenas, eight months of sexual trafficking, loss of all your loved ones, and you were tortured as a prisoner of war. You still struggle with water as a byproduct of your torture, don’t you?”

“Sure, you don’t need to be such a jerk about it.”

“Then why would we assume you’re in the right state of mind about this? That some of your feelings about your addiction may not be the cause here?”

“My head doctors have vouched for me on this very stand,” Johanna argues through gritted teeth. Her own puffed angry exhales through her nostrils amplify from the microphone.

“About your current state, but why would we believe someone who stole drugs from a child?”

Johanna is seething. Did they really just try that? She’s slapping her palm on expensive mahogany wood as she shrieks, “A child you’re trying to execute right now! And I didn’t choose to be on that drug; it was given to me on the brink of death by you Thirteen idio-“

The banging of the gavel cuts Johanna off. The judge calls for a recess, and Johanna practically flings herself out of her seat to avoid punching that slimy gray lawyer in the face.

Johanna is led out to a back garden by the defense attorney; she reassures Johanna that since she is a defense witness that the defense gets to question her again after the cross-examination by the prosecution. She reassures Johanna it will offset the damage. The cool air at least helps slow her racing heartbeat.

“You’re doing good, just stay calm,” she says evenly.

When Johanna takes the stand twenty minutes later, the prosecutor fixes her with a placating smile.

“Ms. Mason, I understand you are in the middle of healing. I did not mean to trigger anything, but just want to establish your level, or lack thereof, of credibility.”

“Is that supposed to be some slimeball apology? I don’t have to accept anything from a cowardly mole like you who spent his whole life in the ground,” Johanna evenly says, but she can immediately tell she said something the prosecutor wanted her to say. He looks like a predator about to swarm in at the sight of blood.

“You have contempt for District 13, why wouldn’t we expect someone like you to lie for an ally who you would’ve died for?”

“My main thing is being brutally honest. You want to dismiss me as someone credible because I was put through the ringer and managed to make my way out on the other side, that’s on you. That doesn’t mean I can’t tell if someone was plotting to commit treason or not,” Johanna scoffs and glares at the stand and jury of other officials.

“That’s fair enough, and you have kept your mind more than most in your shoes,” the prosecutor agrees. “But maybe your disdain for District 13 would make you lie, just like you have proven to be highly capable of.”

“I lied to win a Hunger Games, and you know what happened after my Games? Nothing fair, every mistake I made I lost someone. When I had nothing, I was still thrown back into an arena. When I survived and did my role in the plot to destroy the arena, I was left behind to be brutally tortured,” Johanna states. “I don’t lie for my own agenda. After everything I have been through, the thing I care most about is fairness. Almost like how it isn’t fair that this little tribunal is totally biased with several unelected District 13 officials on this court. Isn’t that the point of rebellions? To not just have a coup but an election.”

“How would you even know such a thing?” The prosecutor prods.

“Banned textbooks,” Johanna boldly states. “District 7 isn’t full of mindless lumberjacks like everyone thinks.”

“If we have a bias towards you, why would you then agree to take the stand for the defendant? How would that help her case?”

“Like me or not, you people have been able to trust me with important stuff,” Johanna offers. “I don’t see any good reason to not trust me now.”

Johanna just sits back and tries not to roll her eyes when the prosecutor goes on some tangent to further try and diminish credibility and tarnish her character.

The defense attorney gets back up to question Johanna, and she tries to focus on her breathing to stay calm.

“Ms. Mason, you have been accused of stealing Ms. Everdeen’s morphling drip. Did Katniss Everdeen ever ask you to stop or claim your alleged stealing was harming her?” She begins.

“No.”

“And the medical charts submitted into evidence stated the night of withdrawal was your last night in the hospital together, roughly three weeks before Ms. Everdeen was deployed. Is that the last day you had any morphling?”

“Correct, I’ve been clean since,” Johanna says almost a little proudly.

“Was it ever offered to you again by medical staff?”

“No, but the District 13 medical staff did sedate me a few times though when Finnick died. I didn’t even want that, because it felt too close to morphling,” Johanna explains and glares over at the prosecutor.

“So, District 13 not only introduced this drug to you when you were in critical health but also never made any active effort to help you when they clearly noted concerning trending behaviors. They are only now bringing it up when it is convenient to discredit you but made no effort to help you when you needed it.

“Also, any random drug testing your doctors have conducted in the last several months all came back negative. I think it is safe to say Ms. Mason’s character and credibility shouldn’t be tainted from previous morphling issues.”

The defense lawyers turns from Johanna to address the entire court as she begins a speech, “Johanna Mason has been sober for over two months, taking this into account with all of her past traumas that the prosecutors so flippantly stated with no regard for Ms. Mason’s state of mind, this puts her in state of understanding and empathy that establishes sufficient amounts of credibility.

“As the court can see, Ms. Mason’s testimony for the defendant’s character, morals, and their shared experiences further supports Dr. Aurelius’s assessment that Katniss Everdeen is not mentally fit to even stand this trial, let alone have been given the crushing responsibility of assassinating a president. Katniss Everdeen did not collude, plot, or intend to kill Alma Coin.” The lawyer says to the crowd of officials, she turns to Johanna and nods, “Thank you, Ms. Mason. No further questions.”

---

Annie’s testimony is nowhere near as dramatic as Johanna’s was but it seems to help as well.

When both are dropped off back at their hospital wing, Plutarch gives them both big thumbs up and claps on the shoulders as he insists they both did great. Johanna doesn’t care about what Plutarch thinks, but Haymitch’s expression is more relieved than it was yesterday which should be a good indicator.

Katniss’s trial apparently has another three days before the judges all deliberate, which people said could take hours to weeks. It all seems excessive and she can’t tell if the tribunal is being that thorough with the District 13 judges refusing to budge or if it is for building anticipation for Plutarch’s finale of his big show.

On a good day, Johanna would probably classify Katniss as a good ally or maybe a reluctant friend in the annoying little sister kind of way. On a bad day, she can’t stand her.

Johanna barely even knows Katniss, has only met her acquaintance for less than half a year. But even this anticipation is so cruel and unsettling for herself that she can’t even judge how much drunker Haymitch gets with days passing. And she can’t judge Peeta for having a few days regressing in this time period. He’s been wavering back into some of his rudeness like it was in District 13 that Annie often avoids the free time period at night so she doesn’t have to interact with him.

It's on the fourth day of the judges deliberating and Johanna is absentmindedly reassembling the chess pieces on the board between herself and Peeta. His fingertips are bloodied and raw with a worn strand of rope in his grasp.

The imagery alone makes the loss of Finnick so loud.

If you asked her head doctors, Johanna’s still barely processed the whole Finnick dying thing. Honestly she is pretty stagnant in most areas. The only positive progress she has made was when she and Peeta reconciled.

The TV playing in the top corner of the recreation room flashes with a news headline. Katniss’s face is shown above it and Johanna silently reaches out and smacks in the air at Peeta.

“Hey, look,” she points.

He whips his head around as the chirping reporter describes the breaking headline on the bottom of the screen:

Katniss Everdeen deemed mentally unfit to stand trial against treason and murder charges.

Peeta is gripping the remote and he rapidly changes to another news channel where another headline follows:

Katniss Everdeen ruled guilty of involuntary manslaughter by reason of insanity. Sentencing still pending, but a lifetime ban from the Capitol is in talks.

The silence in the air hangs with such immense relief she’s almost stunned.

Peeta finally turns away from the screen, palpable happiness in his eyes as he lets out a breath of relief so immense it knocks over a pawn piece.

“What a relief,” Peeta breathes out.

“Good,” Johanna nods in agreement. “Hopefully they just send her home. If they sent the victor who killed the president back home, surely us victors in the mental ward can go home too. Right?”

Notes:

I love that canonically Katniss's trial is aired publicly, it makes me think it probably was sensationalized enough that made it like Panem's equivalent of the OJ Simpson trial.

I'm sorry that Plutarch didn't give her many answers, but he genuinely was busy as shit this chapter (he still sucks tho). Don't worry, just stick with this and it will pay off in the end.

A huge thanks for reading and to those who leave kudos/bookmarks/comments :) I appreciate any feedback and it truly keeps me going.

Up next in Chapter 12: Johanna, Annie, and Peeta are in their mental ward camp era. Therapy activities make Johanna feel more lost than ever. And when it is gearing up that somehow the national headcase and recently hijacked boy will be discharged before Johanna, an alternative solution is offered for her discharge.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Summary:

Johanna refuses to let go of her anger and it is the thing her doctors refuse to discharge her over. Plutarch is avoiding Johanna, so she comes to her own conclusions. An alternative option is suggested for Johanna's release.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, we aren’t school children,” Johanna guffaws at the sight of a table overflowing with a large stack of magazines with tins of safety scissors, glue, tape, and markers.

Dr. Minerva, the other head doctor that helps with alternative therapies and ways of working through stuff where Dr. Aurelius is medications and talking about stuff directly, waves a dismissive hand.

“I’m not treating you like children, I’m just telling you to each make a collage.”

“Why?” Peeta asks.

“I want each of you to make collages showing what you want in your future,” she says simply.

However, the prompt is about as far from simple as it can get.

The trio sits spaced apart at the table and quietly begin trimming at old Capitol magazines.

Halfway through flipping the first magazine in her grasp, Dr. Minerva puts on a record player to play music quietly in the background.

Johanna feels like she is in school and forgot about a test as she peaks over at Annie and Peeta’s moving hands to try and figure what the fuck she’s supposed to do or cut out.

But it only takes a few silent moments of flipping to let the simple instruction slice away at her.

The prompt for asking what she wants to do as she goes on living is sobering. It’s not like she wants to grab her safety scissors and turn them on herself. It’s just like if she were put in front of Beetee’s inventions and told to fix it, she wouldn’t even know how to start.

That’s how this feels, because she has no answer.

For most of the session, Johanna cuts out trees and a sign saying District 7. The only other thing she manages for the entire hour is cutting out an axe.

The three are given plastic baggies to hold their trimmed pieces and are sent off to dinner. They will continue this exercise over the next few days.

Maybe it’s a little less agonizing when she realizes halfway through dinner all three are in total silence. Like maybe that exercise was very hard for all of them.

Peeta’s the first one who can even acknowledge anything, “Annie, did you cut out lots of baby stuff for your collage?”

It is a simple and obvious enough question that it slices away at the tangible dimness hanging over them.

“Yeah, some beach things too,” Annie replies.

“I basically deforested several magazines of all their trees,” Johanna jokes.

“Getting artsy with it?” Peeta teases, “Setting a forest backdrop.”

“Oh yeah, obviously,” Johanna sardonically nods and smirks. “Not like I was just killing time, because I have no clue what else to cut out.”

“I get it,” Annie quietly mutters, “I spent about ten minutes looking for the biggest picture of a baby to cut out so it would take up as much room as possible.”

“That’s why I’m giving mine a bread backdrop,” Peeta offers with a warm smile.

“They really did a fucking number on us, huh,” Johanna breathes out with an empty chuckle.

---

Peeta brings up the collage exercise more directly with Johanna the next morning when Annie has to go to a doctor’s appointment for a pregnancy checkup.

“It’s okay to not know,” he quietly begins.

Johanna glances up at him from where she is trying to pick up her newest hobby – since whittling is out of question with her hand tremors and the whole ‘no sharps’ rule. A dull-ended knitting needle has a messy loose tangle of stitches hanging off one and she wants to snap the damn thing in half.

“About what?” She absentmindedly asks as she turns back to the instructions in her book to find out if she is knitting wrong, if that is even possible.

“For the collage.”

Johanna stiffens and slowly sets down the knitting needles, “I’m trying not to think about that.”

“I think the whole point of it is to think about it,” Peeta says with an easy chuckle.

Johanna rolls her eyes, “Yeah, well it isn’t fun thinking about when I return to District 7 that I won’t know what to do next.”

“Maybe just flipping through magazines in the common room could give some ideas,” Peeta offers. He holds up his hands placatingly when Johanna glares at him. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop bringing it up.”

---

By the end of the week, each is instructed to show their collage to the group and explain it a bit. Annie’s is mainly baby related, talking about wanting to live on the beach, teaching the baby to swim. Peeta’s looks too good being a realistic depiction of a town center in District 12 made up of broken, shattered, and ripped pieces. He speaks of wanting to return home, be around Haymitch and Katniss, rebuild a bakery, and maybe see if he can help rebuild his district that was destroyed.

When it gets to Johanna’s turn she lamely holds the paper that is about 98% trees. It basically looks like a collage of a forest where Johanna spent ample time in pointless details to think about what else to put on the page.

“I want to go back to District 7, clearly,” she explains boredly. “I put a little cabin there because I want to rebuild myself a new home deep in the woods. Away from people.”

“Why is there a gravestone?” Dr. Minerva asks, pointing at a small corner at the bottom of the page.

“I want to visit my family’s grave plot,” she shrugs.

Dr. Minerva asks her to stay behind after the session. Johanna looks up at her and jokes, “What? Wanting to buy this beauty and frame it?”

“Johanna, you need to try.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you want to go back home, you need to be okay mentally,” Dr. Minerva shakes her head and taps her pen on the collage. “This isn’t okay.”

“More people deciding for me,” she grumbles.

“Johanna, even the freest governments in history wouldn’t let a mentally unwell person just go off on their own.”

“I’m fine,” Johanna scoffs. “I took care of myself for years.”

“When you had a goal of the Capitol falling, but what comes next?”

Johanna frowns at her and slouches, while defiantly muttering, “If you listened to my presentation I said build a cabin in the woods.”

“Okay, but what about after that?”

“Huh?”

“That will keep you busy for maybe a year,” Dr. Minerva begins and looks at Johanna appraisingly. “But what comes next? What would you do?”

“Visit my family’s grave plot,” Johanna deadpans. “Sorry it is hard to fantasize about my future when there is nobody left, even if the Capitol fell, that doesn’t change that my entire family is six feet under.”

“And that anger, Johanna?” the doctor says and motions at Johanna’s hands clenching open and shut into fists, “It is temporary. You can’t keep running on it forever.”

“So what?”

“So, if that anger runs out after you finish building your cabin, what next?”

The silence is deafening, and Johanna can’t bring herself to look at the doctor anymore. Her eyes stay glued on a small stain on the carpet.

“If you don’t work through this and try, you won’t have any tools at your disposal on how to handle that emptiness,” Dr. Minerva explains gently even if it feels like a death blow. “It is why even if you seem quite sound of mind, none of your medical team can discharge you in good conscience.”

“You tell me then, genius,” Johanna snips. “What would I do next that is so bad I’m not allowed to leave this place?”

“Suicide,” Dr. Minerva matter-of-factly states, “Or relapsing into addiction.”

“Glad you think so highly of me.”

“This isn’t you, that is a pattern. People who survive such amounts of trauma like you have makes living hard.”

Johanna snorts a laugh, “You’ve got that right.”

“The human mind is only so strong, and when having to live with your past haunting you without support,” she shakes her head. “Most people would fall victim to that grief and a victim of people who abandoned them when they should’ve been helped. And this?” she gestures between herself and Johanna and at the whole room, “This is me as your doctor trying to not fail you. I’m not your captor, Johanna.”

She scoffs to try and dismiss it all, “So tell me, what am I supposed to do to ‘try?’ Because I’m doing your dumb appointments and crap like this.”

“Well first you can start by making me a new collage. Take as long as you need to make it. And if you actually put effort into it, I will frame it and buy it,” she says with an easy smile.

Johanna actually laughs. She drags her feet over to the table and grabs an armful of magazines and gives the doctor a sarcastic salute in goodbye.

---

“I’m glad I didn’t place any bets on who would be discharged first,” Johanna huffs out while helping Annie put things in boxes.

“It’s mainly pregnancy related,” Annie shrugs. “They want me to move back earlier than later.”

The national headcase being the first victor discharged is a punch to the gut and almost laughable.

“Still, it’s basically like coming in first place out of us three.”

Annie laughs, “They’re setting up a hospital out there, so I am going home but I still have daily outpatient stuff.”

“That sucks, how are they even making sure you follow through on it?”

“Asterid is my newest neighbor apparently” Annie says.

“Wait, seriously?” Johanna scoffs. “She just let Katniss go back to Twelve with only Haymitch to look out for her. That’s so…”

“Messed up? Yeah,” Annie finishes. “I’m guessing since Prim gave us Buttercup anticipating how much Asterid will throw herself in her work to grieve means it will be pretty hands-off monitoring of me.”

“How are you feeling? About going back to Four?”

Annie sighs and softly sits beside her box, “It’s like going home, but knowing there isn’t anyone that makes it home is there.”

“Are they just sending you back to Victors Village?”

She shakes her head, “Nope, most the mansions were looted during the war. It was nice though Dr. Aurelius called someone out there to try and get any of mine or Finnick’s stuff if they could find it.”

“That’s good.”

A mild knock on their open door draws their attention. An orderly in white scrubs smiles easily, “Ready to get out of here?”

Annie excitedly nods but holds up one finger to pause the man. She rushes over to Johanna’s desk to snag a pen and scribble something on a stray piece of paper. Johanna gets up after her and hefts up the box of belongings and hands it to the orderly.

She’s a bit surprised that Annie initiates a quick hug goodbye. She’s come really far since Finnick died. It sucks Johanna is stuck here, but Annie has actually done the work like Dr. Minerva wants Johanna to and she deserves to reap the rewards of that now.

Annie gets to go home and start a life with a child that is her reminder of Finnick. She will be able to go on.

“Make sure to write or call if you ever need anything,” Johanna stiffly says.

“Of course, I wrote down my address and number for you,” Annie smiles. “I know these last few months have sucked for us both, but I am glad you were there with me.”

“Yeah, me too.”

---

Without Annie there, Johanna and Peeta settle into their new routine together. They have all their therapy, eat meals together, and usually hangout in each other’s room during free time. Peeta even ends up drawing that picture of Jack like he offered.

Johanna tries contacting Plutarch nearly every day. His assistant tries to make excuses since he is now Secretary of Communication he doesn’t have time for those calls. She even gets a day pass out in public to show up to his office two separate times, but she can never even get face time with Plutarch.

He’s actively avoiding Johanna and more days pass, it means it can’t be anything good.

---

Johanna resists the urge to violently slam the phone into the receiver when Plutarch’s assistant dismissed her for the umpteenth time. Her eyes flit to the calendar on the wall, it’s the first day of March. The war has been over for months.

Months that Virginia should’ve resurfaced by now. Months that Plutarch should’ve found some definitive answer.

And his evasive silence makes something leaden horribly in her gut. That he is avoiding Johanna’s bugging on the subject because he is scared of how Johanna will react to the news.

Maybe she’s known it would be like this all along.

It’s the first time Johanna tries to fully test out the thought in her mind – Virginia is dead.

The concept is more concrete in Johanna’s mind than it’s ever been. And it’s like her last final bond has been severed and harshly snapped back at her.

No.

Virginia made Johanna promise to try to survive and she said she would too.

She can’t have just died at the end of the war.

But she isn’t here.

It makes the impossible settle awfully in her mind.

It makes Johanna chart into unprecedented territory as she voluntarily races to Dr. Minerva’s office with tears in her eyes. She knocks once and barrels in when she hears a muffled ‘come in,’ and she immediately launches herself onto the couch.

Johanna rings her hands together until the itching behind her eyes and swelling bubbling in her throat become too much. She snags up three tissues and pats at her cheeks before the tears even begin descending down her skin.

And then she continues in this unprecedented fashion by bringing up the one hard topic she has always shut down in therapy.

“I want to talk about Virginia.”

---

The next several days are like being gutted emotionally but lightens a burden that has been crushing her for months. She talks extensively with Dr. Minerva about Virginia. How she is starting to realize she will likely never get any answers.

Dr. Minerva doesn’t give any false reassurances about Virginia possibly being alive nor does she confirm Johanna’s conclusions. She just listens and helps Johanna start to unravel all of it since she barely let herself think about it whenever she could try.

“Every person I’ve lost, I have had something to confirm it,” Johanna blurts out in the middle of a fifteen-minute rant while glaring at the ceiling from her spot on the couch. “I got Daisy’s finger, Archer’s note and cane, Katherine’s ashes, River’s ashes, or I had a body to bury. But with Virginia…”

“There is nothing tangible to help you move forward,” the doctor supplies. “No proof of what happened to her.”

Johanna sighs and crosses her arms and pinches at her biceps, “Yeah.”

“Well, can you think of anything you could do to help you honor her?”

“What like a way to lay her to rest?”

“Not necessarily,” Dr. Minerva hums. “Maybe a way to memorialize and allow yourself to actually remember her. Any ideas?”

---

“Peeta, you know how you’ve had Effie help you buy certain things or find certain stuff here?” Johanna begins while casually while tossing a yellow ball in the air and watching it fall back down into her grasp.

He looks up from where he is sitting on his bed and sketching, Peeta nods, “Yeah, of course. Why do you need help with something?”

“Yeah, I need help finding a grave.”

---

“Feel like I should’ve brought flowers or something,” Johanna gruffly mutters and shoves her hands in her jacket pockets, so she’ll stop scratching her hangnails bloody.

Peeta holds up a finger and quickly walks over to a spot behind a different gravestone where three dandelions are pushing up through the grass. He holds them out but keeps one in his hand, “I don’t want to be empty-handed.”

Johanna smiles, feeling a large swirl of appreciation at the gesture as Peeta crouches down to lay the dandelion on the melting snow with green tips of grass poking through in front of the headstone with the name ‘Valerie Venatrix,’ engraved on it.

She follows Peeta’s lead and moves to lay one dandelion beside his, and she puts the other dandelion at the neighboring plot for Virginia’s mom.

“How long should I stand here?” Johanna asks and huffs uncomfortably.

“We’re doing this for you,” Peeta says with an easy chuckle. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs.

“You don’t seem like the talking to a grave type of person,” Peeta begins.

“I mainly talked to my family’s plot in my head, felt too awkward.” Then Johanna snorts a dry laugh, “Also because I was always paranoid Snow was somehow listening.”

“Talk to me then,” he offers. “Why does visiting this grave help?”

“They were her family, she loved them, they’re dead,” Johanna bluntly states and swallow thickly. “And I don’t know, maybe it’s time I accept that she...”

Her voice pathetically breaks off at the end of her sentence.

“I’d say something about not fully giving up hope, but I don’t think you’d enjoy that,” he offers.

“Correct.”

Another beat passes and her defenses are too thin with this gravestone in front of her, and Johanna finds herself honestly rambling out, and letting herself remember Virginia fondly. Something that had been a near impossible feat for months.

“Virginia and I went on these winter missions in remote parts of District 7 each winter. During our first one her mom died,” Johanna says and points at gravestone. “It was enough to make me get over how mad I was at her; we got drunk and bonded over our shitty childhoods. Everything after that just felt right, we became friends and things evolved with us over the years.”

“Why were you mad at her?”

“When I found out she was a rebel spy, I was super hurt and upset about her keeping it from me,” she continues with a shaky voice. Her hand accompanies the ridiculous shaking as she reaches out to touch the chilly top of Valerie’s headstone. “She told me about her sister; she loved her so much. And she had tattoos to remember her by.”

“She was young when she lost her,” Peeta observes when he looks closely at the gravestone.

“Yeah, but she never forgot her.” Johanna clears her throat loudly and paws at her face. “She wanted to come here together. After the war.”

And for the first time she feels the full gravity of this loss.

It is crushing.

Realizing that maybe it’s time to admit to herself that maybe she should take a hint about Plutarch avoiding her, because Virginia is gone. That future they promised each other can’t happen anymore.

This section of the graveyard still feels so dead from the tail-end of winter, and Johanna is bare and weak like the nearby oak tree. Her legs wobble under the weight of grief, and she collapses in on herself in tears. When Peeta turns and says her name, Johanna automatically hugs him tightly and cries into his shoulder.

Another wave of agony engulfs her as he gently hugs her back steadily, it reminds her so much of Finnick.

“It hurts,” she mutters. “So fucking much.”

It’s embarrassing as hell, but if there’s anyone who can handle her tears it is Peeta who knows exactly what Johanna’s screams sound like.

---

A few days later, as Johanna and Peeta settle into one of the tables to play cards during their free time, he breaks the news to her.

“So, uh, Dr. Aurelius thinks I’ll be discharged sometime next week.”

“Oh?” She breathes out, something cold pangs in her chest.

“Yeah.”

Meanwhile Johanna hasn’t heard jack shit from either of her doctors about her own possible discharge. She mutters something to Peeta about how great that is, but her gut twists at being stuck in this loony bin alone.

She needs to talk to her doctors.

---

Johanna’s demands to be discharged are met with the same concerns as her conversation with Dr. Minerva after the collage exercise.

Both her doctors fear stagnation and are uncomfortable with Johanna going off on her own. They both know she’d do fine on her own at first, but when she runs out of tasks, and more importantly when her anger runs out, they’re scared of what that could do to her.

Johanna wishes she could be scared about what it would do to her too, but she has a new fear that she will never get out of this place.

---

After giving Peeta one last hug and telling him to take care, Johanna returns back to the mental ward as the sole victor. She is contemplating what it will take to be discharged. Her next appointment with Dr. Aurelius this afternoon is when she should try to plead her case. Again. 

But come the time of the appointment, Johanna doesn’t have to make any pleas as she has a visitor awaiting her – the newest president of Panem.

“Please Johanna, sit down,” President Paylor stands up and motions to a comfy armchair Johanna is usually forced into every day as she sits across Dr. Aurelius. But instead of him today, a president is awaiting her. She can’t help the visceral reaction of terror it causes within her.

“Are you going to force me into prostitution too?” Johanna jokes, the president furrows her brow worriedly in thought. “That is just how my track record of individual presidential meetings tends to go.”

“Correct, and that was an inhumane abuse of power. I have no interest in continuing that legacy nor any of Snow’s crimes,” President Paylor says matter of fact. “Dr. Aurelius has told me you’re the only victor left in the mental ward.”

Johanna chuckles emptily, “Didn’t know you guys gossip about me. But yeah, as of today even the national head case and boy who was literally hijacked have gotten released before me.”

She jokes to deflect how much she hates it here, how boring everything is. How much more boring everything will be now that Peeta is gone.

But President Paylor isn’t laughing, she is just looking seriously at Johanna, as if she is worried about her. And that’s a crock of shit if Johanna has ever seen one. What president actually cares about their people?

Paylor looks down to a folder in her hands, “Your team of doctors are worried you may never make enough progress to be safely released back home to District 7.”

“I have taken care of myself for years, I don’t know why they won’t release me,” Johanna sasses, knowing damn well why they won’t release her, her doctors remind her of it daily.

Dr. Aureilus has been telling Johanna about how her rage is holding her back for months now.

She will never be able to heal if she doesn’t let go of the anger. It leaves her stunted and never cleared for discharge because all she is reminded of is her rage by her complete absence of any person or support system in her life who truly cares for her.

“There isn’t concern about taking care of yourself, they’re concerned you haven’t healed enough.”

“So are you here to lecture me on being a bad patient,” Johanna impatiently sasses.

President Paylor who only looks about a decade older than Johanna gives her a genuinely saddened expression, “Johanna, I never thought I’d be in such a position of power in my life. I understand the distrust for the government and especially the president after what you’ve been put through. But I fought that whole war. We are on the same side. I want to help people after everything we’ve been through, I want to help change how we’d all been wronged for so long.”

“This is a beautiful campaign speech, but you already won,” Johanna sarcastically muses. “But I really don’t see how me being stuck in a loony bin constitutes presidential intervention.”

President Paylor pinches the bridge of her nose, likely trying to ward off the headache Johanna is about to give her. “Your doctors heard of a recent program I was about to pass, the bill just passed today, and they came to my speech to approach me about it. I am here to offer you an alternative option for your release from the mental ward.”

Johanna straightens up instantly, “Yes, whatever it is yes.”

Paylor chuckles and holds out a hand, “Wait until you see what you’re agreeing to.” She shuffles around her notes in her lap, “The program is helping restore civilian areas destroyed by the war. Your doctors said this environment wouldn’t foster much healing for you, especially once Peeta was discharged. I was told by them that you coped with your family’s death by busying yourself with carpentry.”

“More like I destroyed every object in my home and then rebuilt it,” Johanna interjects.

Paylor gives her a knowing half smile, “Yes, that is was I was told. I was just saying it in a more positive light. Based on that, your district background, and talent for woodworking, we think you’d be a great addition to this program.”

Opening another part of her folder, Paylor pulls out a pamphlet and hands it to Johanna. She looks down at it and thinks how it was likely made back home, and Johanna yearns to go back so badly that she knows she will agree without reading any details.

The cover of the pamphlet is people building a house in hard hats and bright workers jackets. There are only two things written on the cover, the name of the program and the cheesy tagline.

The Panem Carpentry Restoration Act (PCRA)

Rebuilding a better Panem today!

She opens up the pamphlet where more details are spelled out.

Rebuilding what has been lost in the Great Rebellion, the Panem Carpentry Restoration Act (PCRA) will employ over 500 citizens. These employees will be further split into teams and deployed to districts to aid in rebuilding homes, Justice Buildings, train stations, schools, and more. Additional new structures like hospitals, libraries, and food depots will also be built.

Joining the PCRA is an eighteen-month contract that includes benefits of free food, medical care, and housing, plus a monthly stipend laid out below. 

She looks at the chart explaining the varying monthly stipends that change in cost depending on if people have family members. It isn’t much after having the riches of being a victor, but that monthly stipend will likely be bigger than most other people’s monthly salaries when they were forced to work in their district trade before the war.

“So, you want me to build houses?” Johanna asks.

“Essentially yes, your doctors think it may provide benefit in healing and help test run returning back to being on your own,” Paylor answers.

“What happens after the year and a half if I’m not better? Or if I get better before the contract is up?”

“If you want out of it early, it will need to be at your medical team’s approval and if you want to buy your way out of the contract,” Paylor answers barely even referring to her notes in her lap.

“Buy my way out?” Johanna asks.

“Yes, that wouldn’t be an issue for you since you are a victor and all.”

“I didn’t think I’d still receive my winnings after the war.”

Paylor looks surprised, shooting Johanna widened eyes, “No, Johanna, we are not revoking victors’ winnings. You along with the remaining surviving victors will continue receiving your winnings throughout your life.”

“But why? The games are over, and I figured the government would want to use that money,” Johanna snarks.

“Some of my colleagues wanted to try that but I vetoed it right away, you guys earned your winnings. And now you all deserve to live your lives in peace, I’m not going to take away your income,” Paylor explains. “Although the payments will be adjusted for inflation and will go down in a few years when we hopefully get the cost of living down.”

“Is the deal I just join this job and I’m free, or do I still have to deal with my head doctors?”

“The conditions for your release into this program are laid out by your doctors,” Paylor hands her a piece of paper, “Each district placement will be meant to push you to grow in some way or another. You will be required to have three appointments a week via phone with Dr. Aurelius and Dr. Minerva. Additionally, you’ll need to do weekly drug tests for morphling.”

Johanna briefly contemplates signing almost two years of her life away to work under heavy monitoring or staying in this mental bin. While she doesn’t like signing onto anything with the government for that long, she can buy her way out if she heals enough.

And from the tone of this conversation, it seems her mental team is at their wits end and doesn’t have any hope for Johanna to recover if she stays here.

She’s sick of being stuck in the Capitol anyways.

“Fine,” Johanna answers with a shrug.

She signs a mountain of paperwork and is given a folder of some papers and more information. Johanna also notices two small pieces of paper clipped onto the folder, “What’s this?”

“The phone numbers of the District 12 victors, we figured you may want to update your friends,” Paylor answers.

“I’m being sent to Twelve?”

“Not right away, the people there are clearing rubble from the firebombs and making mass graves. It will take most of the summer before the PCRA goes there. I’m going to give your paperwork to the next people in line who will work on assigning you and getting everything set up. You will likely be shipped out to a different district within the week.”

“Is there any way I could stop in District 7?” Johanna asks hopefully. “Or if I can’t go back, can some people go back? I buried some keepsakes and made a fake wall in my shed the has a safe with some belongings and the coordinates scratched in where I buried a map for where everything is buried. In case I survived the whole quell and war thing. I knew the Capitol would tear my place to shreds after the escape.”

Paylor contemplates it for a moment and nods, handing Johanna a pen and a pad of paper, “Just write down the instructions of where and how they may find those things. Make it as detailed as possible since it sounds like you took a lot of precautions. I can’t make any promises, it is all still there, but I’ll have a few people look and make sure your stuff is given to you before you’re deployed. It’s the least we could do for you after everything.”

“Thank you,” Johanna says and she actually means it.

---

Plutarch,

I know you’ve been avoiding me, because you’re too scared of how I will react to the truth. Your silence is the cruelest way you could’ve told me Virginia is dead. I am joining the PCRA as a condition of my discharge, I’m sure you know that since you’re a gossipy bitch. My doctors say I need to move forward, and it’s basically fiction to think this note could convince you. But if you ever fucking grow a pair and want to stop being a coward, call me and give me some answers so I can stop going insane over how she died. If you ever cared about her in the slightest, try to be less of a coward – either call me or come see me. I’ve attached the numbers of my doctors and my supervisor so you can’t blame it on not being able to find me.

Johanna Mason

P.S. I know I am a thorn in your side, and I can’t stand you either, so do us both a favor and just tell me, then we can happily remain out of each other’s miserable lives.

Johanna folds her note and stands up from the desk in her room. She steps through the sea of crumpled drafts of the note, but this is the least angry she could be. Her train leaves for her first assignment tomorrow night, she’s going to go by Plutarch’s office to give the letter to his awful assistant.

She doesn’t even know if he will ever read it, but both her doctors agreed with her idea of leaving a note. It’s a way of moving forward apparently.

---

The next morning, after she returns from dropping off the letter, there is man waiting in her room with a large duffle bag of items, a toolbox, and two boxes.

“Is that my stuff?” She excitedly asks, nearly racing in.

“Yes, the people in Seven were able to dig most of it up.”

She rushes to fling open the boxes and dump the duffel bag on her bed. The man says something in goodbye, but Johanna barely notices.

The first thing her fingers come into contact with is the box that contained the segments of Archer’s cane. Her legs wobble until she slumps on the bed, tears fill her eyes as she runs her thumb over the engravings.

Digging through the growing mess, she finds Archer’s suicide note and reads it for the first time in over half a year. She can’t bring herself to read the few letters from Virginia and Finnick she buried. But surprisingly, Johanna brings the yellow envelope to her last in-person appointment with Dr. Minerva. She hid the envelope in the bottom of her safe and it’s filled with pictures.

With her doctor’s help, she begins sifting through the pictures of all the ghosts. Pointing out who is who as Dr. Minerva gently asks questions about them. There aren’t a ton, but now Johanna doesn’t have to worry about forgetting their faces.

Dr. Minerva comments that Peeta’s drawing of Jack he did is quite close to the real thing, then she says Johanna’s family would be proud of her for still standing. It’s like a bittersweet punch to the gut, but she feels a bit better about this PCRA bullshit when Dr. Minerva looks at Johanna like she believes in her. She slips out a business card for Johanna to take and explains it is her personal home number if Johanna ever needs anything.

It allows Johanna to understand that both her doctors do care about her, that this isn’t some Capitol control grab bullshit. They’re just trying to make sure she doesn’t crash and burn when she is off on her own.

While packing up all her stuff, with the strength of some ridiculous idea of moving forward she allows herself to grab the silver chain she tucked in a plastic baggie. Her token from her first Games – the heirloom that her mom gave her in goodbye. The thing that gave Johanna life in her first arena. The thing she put Daisy’s ring on for Daisy to wear on their last night together.

It doesn’t feel like a heavy noose on her neck surprisingly. Her hands fiddle with the chain, and she just shuts her eyes and thinks of her mother for second.

Johanna spends the entire train ride to her first district placement barely even thinking about how she is finally leaving the Capitol after months of being stuck there. Instead, she is too focused on all the perfectly preserved memories that she finally owns again.                                                                                 

Notes:

okay okay, Plutarch isn't just full ghosting Johanna. She will get her answer, so please just hang in there (and see that as a bit of reassurance). Since the next few chapters are very healing and grief arcs for Johanna, i have written them all and am going to post Chapter 13 tonight too :) Also i will post Chapter 14 tomorrow, and man oh man, ya'll will wanna be around for that as some of this pain pays off (honestly if i'm real excited i may even post that tonight too, but it'd be in the middle of the night lol). But yeah it gets a lot better from there on out so it's why im posting so many chapters at once.

A huge thank you for reading! and as always thank you so much to those that interact with kudos/comments/bookmarks. I love the feedback and interacting with it.

Up next (very soon) in Chapter 13 - Johanna's first district assignment in the PCRA is a total flop. Once reassigned to a new district, she settles into a routine to try and heal, but when the anger finally runs out, Johanna can feel the impending collapse her doctors feared. But something quickly scrapes Johanna up from her rock bottom of grief, and she starts to find something to live for again.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Summary:

Johanna has a close call in her first district placement, when she's relocated to District 10 for her work assignment, grief begins to consume her. But an overly friend dog and litter of puppies might just be her salvation.

TW: addiction, grief, PTSD, panic attack

Notes:

I posted Chapter 12 tonight as well so make sure you read that first otherwise you'll be really confused :)!!

The close monitoring is almost more suffocating than the mental bin. All seven days of the week, Johanna has something she must do under the conditions of her release.

Although each head doctor appointment or drug test never exceeds an hour, it’s not the short leash she’s on that is so upsetting, but all the different appointments are in different places and horribly inconvenient to get to.

And this is all while maintaining her working hours.

Even if her doctors’ hearts are in the right place, it’s hard to feel like life is any different when Johanna still has no agency for herself. She can’t just go home to District 7, even though she wants nothing more than to do that.

She doesn’t crash and burn from the workload, in fact she goes way over her assigned hours, because she prefers to work until exhaustion overtakes her.

No, the thing that ultimately leads to her crashing and burning is the ironically cruel first district placement.

District 6.

The morphling capital of the country.

Even worse, she is in the biggest city of the district where most cars are produced, and also where the morphling problem has rampaged the masses the most.

With all the appointments and physical exertion from work, she successfully keeps a fragile resolve.

But the resolve is worn thin in under two weeks.

While on her walk back from her second drug test, temptation is at every corner in the form of desperate people trying to sell morphling.

Memories of the night of withdrawal haunt her like arena flashbacks.

You became your father.

She hallucinated that vile man in the mirror while her body revolted from the lack of the drug that made Johanna’s pain livable.

Not a day goes by that she doesn’t think about it. That she doesn’t miss the morphling in her veins. When the high of the drug hit, every second of her existence was no longer one of agonizing grief, trauma, loneliness, and pain. It allowed her to just exist.

She repeatedly reminds herself that the form of temptation – the bug-eyed dirty people with plastic baggies of white pills in their pockets desperately trying to sell it on street corners– is a pathetic result of the drug.

But when Johanna is within half a mile of her lodging, she thinks about the idleness of her night after her boring, government issued dinner. Then all she has to look forward to is a restless night of horrific nightmares where her only reprieve will be waking again.

And tomorrow is a day she isn’t eager about facing. Waking tomorrow will be worse than any other day, it’s Virginia’s birthday and having to just think about that sounds worse than anything else. She would be turning twenty-four.

Having to face any of that with a sharp mind sounds worse than turning back into her dad or ending up being sent back to the Capitol.

So, when the next ragged, emaciated person trying to get her attention calls to her, she stops and digs into her pockets for money.

---

“Don’t do it,” she whispers to herself. Her hand is sweating so much the baggie almost slips out of her grasp.

Johanna definitely looks like she’s insane, because she has been talking to herself since she felt the very heavy weight of this drug in her hands for the last several blocks.

“What’s the point? I should just take it, then it won’t hurt,” Johanna says as she rounds a corner.

“You’re worse than dad,” she finds this self-reprimand hurts the most on her ears and begins repeating it.

While stopped at a crosswalk, she looks into the window of a market. There are bouquets of flowers in the windowsill and if it isn’t a sucker punch from the universe Johanna doesn’t know what is.

Daises. Lavender.

It’s as if the ghosts of the two women she’s loved are staring at her.

Daisy wouldn’t even recognize this husk she’s become.

And the lavender in the window twists the knife of the bright, healthy daises.

Virginia had a tattoo of lavender. But the real reminder is the first time Johanna kissed her, how she could smell the lavender Virginia had threaded and braided into her hair.

Looking at the plastic bag in her hand, she sees the storm grate two steps away.

Her arm shakes weakly as she holds the bag out.

And maybe it’s the ghosts that give Johanna the strength to let go.

Because it’s pathetic how quickly she regrets tossing the drugs down the drain. Johanna is kneeling on the ground and sticking her entire arm until her shoulder wedges in the grate, but she grabs at nothing.

“Fuck,” she hisses and feels a horrifying onslaught of tears incoming. Her shoulder wedges further between metal and the side of her face nearly presses into it. Her hand swipes at dank air and nothing else.

When she notices that a mother and two children are looking at Johanna with a type of fear like she’s an unhinged morphling, not a violent victor, she yanks her arm free from the grate.

Then she sprints away from the shame.

---

She doesn’t sleep, just watches the clock and bites her nails to nothing until morning comes and it’s time to go to her phone appointment with Dr. Minerva.

And Johanna rants today like she’s running out of oxygen. 

She only makes it about two minutes before the rant veers in the direction of morphling.

“And after everything I have been through, you guys make me piss in a cup weekly in front of a nurse, because if I relapse, I will be whisked back away to the mental ward. As if you care, if anyone cared about my ‘addiction,’ you geniuses wouldn’t have placed me in the fucking morphling capitol of Panem. If I wanted to, I could score that drug dozens of times just on my walk to work, it is on every fucking corner!”

And apparently that is enough to get Johanna’s assignment changed.

Within twenty-four hours, Johanna is loaded on a train to a different district and has a positive doctor’s note in her chart about staying clean in a tempting environment.

It turns out that the area in District 6 she was stationed in was a clerical error as her doctors initially decided the other job site in Six would be better for her. The place she was supposed to be is further north building houses by a freshwater plant on a giant lake where the drug is way less accessible. But she ended up stationed in one of the most urban and drug fueled centers.

Instead of just sending her to the initial job site in District 6 they wanted to, her doctors agree she needs to leave that entire district as fast as possible.

And apparently, she didn’t have much choice for other districts, so she still pulls a short card.

She’s being sent to District 10.

Probably one of the districts that has the most right hating her based on how she killed Ivy and everything.

Although shockingly the new assignment in District 10 isn’t difficult because of Ivy. It proves to be a horribly difficult assignment because the “spring” weather here in Ten is like a sweltering summer day in District 7.  

Her pale skin burns and blisters no matter how much sunblock she uses. And the scarring on her skull has left permanent bald spots that covering with hair couldn’t protect from the rays of the sun. Her scalp is burned so badly, Johanna had sun poisoning by the end of her first workweek.

Currently the carpenters in District 10 are constructing several new gigantic ranches. Each ranch is almost like a small village, filled with homes for the workers there. Although all the areas for groceries and supplies is a town center that is central to six mega ranches.

It is good for distracting Johanna, but there are extra layers of shame around her recently. It’s been over two weeks of working in District 10, but the heat makes her sweat so much it can trigger that gut wrenching unease that her rewired brain associates the sensation of shocks.

And the conditions of her work force her hand in needing to figure out how to shower.

The bandana she wears on her head after the sun poisoning incident aids in absorbing much of her sweat, but it makes her hair a grease pit. And there is only so much deodorant and sponge baths to keep herself from reeking.

She eventually folds and takes the pills Dr. Aurelius prescribed her to take before showering.

The pills are supposed to dull her physical trauma responses to water or something. It helps a minor amount, showering is still miserable, but she develops a system.

It involves standing naked and turning the shower on and off in between steps. And to cut out a step she invests in a shampoo-conditioner combo, it’s cheap and doesn’t make her hair as soft, but it makes it easier.

And once the showering is complete, she has three towels to basically rub every inch of her skin dry to make any of the tingling or nausea stop.

It’s so pathetic.

Eventually Dr. Aurelius praises Johanna for the progress of being able to do full showers twice a week now. She also does body showers on the sweatier days of work.

The entire dehumanizing process is a stark reminder to Johanna of how broken she is because the abuse of the Capitol. She survived it all somehow, but what is even left of her?

In her years of solitary confinement, Johanna was tortured by the reminder that the connections between loved ones are probably one of the largest sources of happiness in life. And she doesn’t have that. She hasn’t had it for years. But for the past couple years, the hate kept Johanna living and upright, she had a purpose. Johanna wanted to destroy the Capitol and tear President Snow’s throat out.

She helped destroy the Capitol and President Snow is long dead.

But now that Johanna’s purpose has been completed, she has nothing left for her.

Because the only thing she could’ve wanted for her life in a world with Snow dead would be to spend it with Virginia. To be together and just exist in District 7.

Johanna was stupid to hope for something like that. Just as it was since the day before, there is still no word on Virginia. She’ll never get to know, just like how she’ll never get to know how happy they could’ve been together. No confirmation, no closure, no peace.

It still feels like Snow won somehow, because every moment of her life is a punishment and reminder of how alone she is.

Nobody cares about Johanna or loves her, anybody who did is long dead because of her.

Her head doctors say the job is very good for Johanna and that she has made more emotional progress in the few weeks of this than her months in the mental ward. But it feels way worse now.

Back then, Johanna felt nothing.

Now, she just feels everything. Like the weight of every person she loved is crushing her.

The time where she isn’t working haunts her, because she has no purpose in all that down time. Johanna has nobody to spend her time with and nobody to truly call and chat except for her head doctors.

Time moves so slowly.

On her first payday, where she received her victor’s stipend and monthly salary, she puts in an order on the phone to have items shipped from the Capitol. If she learned anything from those snobs, it’s that sometimes the instant gratification of luxurious comforts can help lessen the pain. In fact, it’s a lesson she learned from her favorite snob who haunts her now.

It doesn’t lessen the pain like morphling but calling to order supplies and excitedly awaiting their delivery for days gives Johanna something to focus on.

Earlier this week, Johanna had to use a large cart to bring her supplies back to her room. In total, she ordered a small safe to keep her money in, several sticks of extra strength deodorant, expensive capitol perfume, baby wipes, casual clothes to wear in her downtime, a few blank notebooks and pens, about a dozen books of mental puzzles, a whittling kit (since they restricted her from ordering a pocket knife), a music chip, and a couple of fiction novels.

Anything to help fill the time and make her smell less.

The current accommodations for PCRA workers are old Peacekeeper barracks, and due to Johanna’s celebrity status and massive amount of trauma, she is one of the few who is assigned a single room in the drab dormitories.

Although she still has to share a joint bathroom with one girl, and this chick makes her miss rooming with Katniss and Annie so much.

It is a young woman from District 7, she cannot be much older than Johanna, but the perky and excitable nature makes her feel way less mature. Johanna has already forgotten her name, but this has not stopped the woman from often knocking on her door and trying to talk to Johanna.

She does it two days in a row, which leads to Johanna just leaving the door unlocked so she can grunt out for her neighbor to open the door.

Johanna sprawls lazily across her blankets after barely glancing at the girl after telling her to come in. She boredly flips through her puzzle book and stops on a word search. Her pen runs along the cluttered letters, and she glares above the page.

Her visitor is almost bouncing while animatedly talking and adjusting a bag on her shoulder. She prattles on and on about how her and some others are having a beach day on their day off.

“Sounds horrible,” Johanna drawls sardonically as her pen digs a sharp line across the diagonal word SPRUCE. Her eyes flick up to immediately extinguish a hopeful gaze and she can feel the hatred and vitriol in her own glare, “I hate the beach.”

Johanna revels in some joy at how fast it discomforts her. After sitting in that blissful moment of marinating in her shame, Johanna continues, “Can you guess why?”

“So that’s a no to coming then?” She meekly asks, and Johanna must’ve tuned her out so badly she didn’t notice that she was being invited.

And it makes Johanna feel like a charity case. The whole country knows Johanna is totally alone in this world. But clearly her bathroom-roommate was inviting her to make herself feel good like she was doing charity, but she couldn’t critically think long enough about the merits of inviting one of the five people in existence who survived the third Quarter Quell arena may not enjoy that.

Johanna channels her anger into a sharp spewed words and an eye roll “Astute observation.”

She turns her attention back to the book, lightly tracing her pen above the letters as she searches for her next word.

“Have a nice day, Johanna,” is said flatly after a moment before the door is thankfully shut again.

The room envelops Johanna in a stale silence, and she channels her discomfort into trying to focus hard on her word search. It’s an easy word search that is District 7 themed, meaning the word bank is just a bunch of tree names. It takes a few minutes until every word is crossed off except for the one she couldn’t bring herself to read or look for.

WILLOW.

In a chance of painful irony, the word is dead center.

For some dumb reason Johanna can’t bring herself to run her pen across the letters. The heart wrenching memories of her lifetime of sisterly love, how Willow protected her siblings so much is impossible to push away.

Johanna would give anything to speak to her sister again.

She just misses them all so much it physically hurts, and she doesn’t know what to do with the pain.

The word search remains incomplete.

And it is then subsequently launched at a plain white brick wall.

---

Since she is literally not allowed to work on her day off – stupid new labor laws – she ends up too antsy and walks into town.

The barracks are a thankfully quick walk to what is colloquially known as the Farm Capital of District 10. It’s a standard small city, not that different than Central City right outside of the Victors Village back in District 7.

There’s a big schoolhouse, several markets, abandoned store fronts, and apartments above those stores where most displaced ranchers from District 10 have had to move in the meantime.

The roads are busier than home, and miles of paved streets in the Farm Capital led to dirt roads where most mega ranches are within twenty miles.

She wants to wander around the market, but part of her still feels so uncomfortable existing here.

There’s been a whole war. Ivy’s small family could be dead, but Johanna fears how people who loved the person she brutalized may be around any corner. It’s her only murder that she is unable to reconcile with. All the others felt unfortunately like a part of the games that didn’t haunt her beyond her doing what she needed to in order to survive.

Well except for the girl from District 1, the memory of how Johanna had to pierce her eye with an ice axe will always make her hands sweat. Guaranteed.

But with Ivy, the Gamemakers twisted and manipulated Johanna in that arena and riled her up until she totally snapped. And that is the most Johanna has ever snapped and most feral moments where she lost her mind.

Dr. Minerva says Johanna’s guilt around this is likely, in part, due to her understandable need for control, and Ivy is Johanna’s only victim where she was completely out of control of herself upon killing her.

It’s why when she pops into the market, she keeps her head down and quickly buys a sandwich and water jug. She eats as she lackadaisically walks along the roads.

Not knowing where to go in her wandering, she loosely travels in the direction of the ranch she works in. 

The paved roads give way to uneven dirt after a half hour. Johanna dully kicks at rocks or loose gravel to watch them roll and bounce around.

And she has never felt so alone.

She’s surrounded by flat grassy fields and cannot feel another person near for miles. 

The memories of her family who she fought so hard to get back to plague her mind after she encountered seeing her sister’s namesake on a fucking word search.

She thinks of how happy her family would be in this world now.

It’s a sadistic way to torture herself, but she thinks of what everyone in her family would do in a Panem without the Hunger Games where their lives weren’t taken for the dumb reason of being unlucky enough to be loved by Johanna Mason.

She has taken up talking to herself in situations where she is truly alone like this. She did it sometimes after her family died, but does it more now, because her mind muddles easy about this kind of thing.

“Conner would absolutely be doing this, helping rebuild things. Probably would’ve gotten married at some point.” Johanna mutters. A stabbing pain resounds in her chest, “He also would’ve fought in the war. Maybe he wouldn’t even be alive right now.” 

(“Talking to yourself is okay, it’s when you start answering yourself that you’ve gotta be concerned,” Johanna’s mom used to say this to her when she was a little girl.)

“I feel like Willow would’ve wanted to stay in District 7. Maybe working at something not to do with factories or paper mills.” Johanna’s mouth dries and she gulps at the lump in her throat, “Jack would be ten by now, he’d certainly be keeping Willow busy.” 

(More rocks are disturbed and kicked as Johanna walks in silent contemplation and will intersperse the silence with her answers.)

“River would stay in the same area as Willow. He’d probably have a bunch of kids.”  

(And then with a pained shaky breath she prepares herself for the hardest one to talk about.)

“Katherine would be in District 3 or the Capitol, learning shit. She was so smart, she could’ve done so much.”

Her family – the people she loves are all together in a plot in a district she can’t even return to.

And Johanna is still here.

And it’s her fault.

It should be the opposite; Johanna should be the dead one under the earth and her whole family could be alive and together. And for the umpteenth time she just wishes she died in the arena of her first games.

The feeling crushes her down onto the side of the dirt road. Johanna is huddled in a ball in the weeds. She lets the guttural sobs consume her for the first time in months.

Johanna shakes and tries mumbling things her doctors have taught her to keep her grounded in reality to avoid any flashbacks. Her sobs are so feral that she can tell she is at a tipping point. She can feel herself shutting down, unable to do anything other than be consumed by all these large, horrible emotions.

Johanna begs the air around her to let her die in between the wailing sobs. The grief feels like it is crushing her to death.

---

Something wet pushing at her bare bicep is what yanks Johanna out of her mind after who knows how long.

This sudden contact doesn’t scare her in the way most sudden things do. She lifts her head and makes eye contact with a dog neatly sitting beside a pile of vomited up sandwich.

Johanna barely registers the visual that she must’ve puked. Her eyes stay locked on dog. The near amber eyes are alight and its mouth is open and panting giving the appearance that the dog is smiling. It has a spiked collar around its fluffy neck and is so excitable that it’s unable to stay still with its front paws alternatively tapping the ground.

Johanna wipes at her snotty nose and ignores the animal.

There was a time in her life before the riches where if any animal approached her and basically cuddled into her by pressing into her side like this one is, she would’ve wrapped her arms around it as quickly as possible to trap it so her family could kill and eat it.

And there was also a time in her life where she was delusional enough to hope she could get a dumb dog like this with Virginia. She’d finally get Virginia the dog she always wanted.

But that can’t happen. Not anymore.

Brief memories of Buttercup rush behind her mind, how he helped her feel better after Finnick died. How stupidly relieved she was when her first letter from Peeta said the old cat limped his way back to District 12 and didn’t starve to death in Johanna’s compartment.

She scoffs and leans back when the dog tries to lick at the tears on her cheeks. She wipes aggressively at her skin.

It feels like she’s being dragged back into her unbearable grief and it is still consuming her.

The sunny grassy fields look so free.

And for a shear moment, like a stab wound, she feels a moment of totally being encapsulated by the indisputable fact that everyone she loves is dead and gone.

A harsh sob erupts from her mouth and her grieving is interrupted by the stupid dog. 

Again.

It has made its way next to Johanna again. Moving to her opposite side and relaxing into Johanna’s side. It is still technically sitting but is slouched by trying to lay fully in her lap.

Johanna remains stiff and snarks out, “Don’t you have a job you should be doing?”

By the looks of it, it’s clearly a herding dog. There are a lot of them in District 10.

The black and white dog tips its head curiously at the introduction of Johanna’s voice.

The grief swallowing her has a beautiful moment of respite because the dog looks so fucking dumb, and cute, when it tips its head because one of its ears stands up and the other triangular ear doesn’t.

A wet chuckle escapes her chest, and a weird grimacing smile briefly flickers across her face. The dog noses at her arm again.

And Johanna is only so strong.

She relents and opens up her posture to let the desperate thing relax into her lap.

Johanna awkwardly holds her hands in the air until she cautiously rubs at its head with one hand. She focuses on running her thumb along the white patch of fur that covers its snout and goes between its eyes.

Focusing on that task alone helps slow her breathing. 

She vaguely hears the rumbling of a truck, and looks up at a middle-aged woman, who has clearly been a rancher her entire life, exiting the truck. The gravel crunches under the steel toed boots as the woman walks over, she whistles between her teeth and Johanna’s new companion lifts its head and sprints back to its owner. 

Johanna rubs at her cheeks to erase any signs of sadness. She looks up expecting to see the rancher and dog returning to the truck, but the dog has quickly rebounded towards Johanna. The rancher continues to walk until she stands in front of Johanna, Johanna squints up at her and hopes she isn’t recognized.

“Thanks for finding her, she likes to run off a lot,” The woman greets and gestures at the dog who has returned to resting its head on Johanna’s leg.

Johanna automatically resumes petting the dog.

“She usually returns on her own, but little Bella here had a litter of pups a couple of weeks ago and its almost chow time for them.” 

Johanna forces a light sarcastic tone as if her voice isn’t strangled, “Not very maternal?”

The woman chuckles heartily, “No, she is not. This is her first litter, and she is definitely better for herding than tending to the puppies. She’s a bit of a spaz.”

“She’s really friendly though,” Johanna observes. She focuses all her energy on her curiosity around it since it is anchoring her from her all-consuming grief.

“Most of this breed are very loving, just energetic because they need to have a job, or they get destructive.”

Johanna snorts, “That’s relatable.”

“Have you ever considered getting one?”

Johanna scrunches her nose, she thought she was talking to a person about an interest in dogs - since she will admit this dog is being very cute and persistent right now - and now she’s about to hear a sales pitch. It now makes more sense why the woman would come over and talk to her.

Johanna looks at her muddied boots as she continues scratching the white patch between the soulful brown eyes of the dog - Bella. “No, I don’t need one, I don’t work on a farm.”

“I have a couple of these dogs, only a few help me on the ranch. Most are for breeding. I sell the puppies mostly to other people in the district, and sometimes to folks in the Capitol. But they also make great companions and pets,” the woman explains easily.

“Are you really trying to sell me a puppy right now?” Johanna eventually snarks, but the word companion is echoing in her lonely world right now. 

Hands are held out cautiously like the woman didn’t mean to overstep. She speaks matter-of-factly, “Sorry you seemed to be enjoying her company. It looks like she’s helped you feel better. I wasn’t sure if you were in the market for looking.”

Johanna shakes her head and tries to sniffle under the sound of a loud breeze.

“I’m at Ranch Number Four if you ever want to come by to play with them or you can help me with any dog tasks if you ever want to,” she continues.

Johanna’s eyes snap back to the rancher. She chuckles flatly, “You’re just inviting over a stranger you saw on the side of the road. What makes you think I would be any good for these dogs?”

“Bella is a good judge of character,” the older woman holds out her hand and Johanna reluctantly grips the calloused palm that yanks her up to her feet. “Then again who knows, you could be an axe murderer.” 

Johanna locks eyes with the stranger, and a knowing look passes between them, and she knows she’s been recognized. But the stranger isn’t making a big deal of it. She reminds Johanna a bit of Archer, gruff and pretty easy going.

The older woman holds out her hand and Johanna shakes it quickly.

“I’m Dell, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I appreciate the offer, Dell. But I’m working on Ranch Six rebuilding a barn,” Johanna eventually answers after the few moments of silence. 

“Do you need a ride to get back to work? That is another ten miles,” Dell offers with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t work today,” Johanna shrugs. She squints at the older woman trying to appraise her, she’s being too nice. And Johanna doesn’t trust niceness, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Dell shrugs, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Johanna finally feels some burning discomfort looking at clear blue eyes and looks down at the dog who is standing next to Johanna. 

“Nobody likes me,” Johanna answers simply. Her voice lowers, “Especially in this district.”

“Would you hold it against me if I told you all the stuff I had to do when we invaded the Capitol during the war?” Dell eventually answers after the whistling wind echoed between them for a good minute.

Johanna looks at her in surprise, she figured if this woman was a rancher and dog breeder she wouldn’t have been able to join the rebels in the war. But Johanna recognizes the haunted quality behind Dell’s eyes. It’s someone who fought in a war.  

“I had to kill people, because that’s war. And in situations like that you don’t get the choice to do the perfectly moral thing.” It hangs in the air for a few moments, “I don’t hold you accountable for what you had to do to win your games, Johanna. Most people here don’t hold a grudge. Many never did. Most of the anger was for the Capitol for doing that to Ivy’s family. Any anger I ever felt for you would’ve been that petty yearlong grudge of not getting Parcel Day since our district came in second.”

Johanna chuckles, “Fair enough.” 

“Well, since it’s your day off, do you want to meet the puppies?” Dell offers.

And for some shocking reason, Johanna takes her up on the offer.

Maybe it’s because a nice stranger and a sweet dog stumbled upon her as she reached a new type of rock bottom on the side of the road. Or maybe it is because she is so fucking lonely. But about ten minutes later, Johanna is being led to a pen of puppies at the back of the barn. There is awful, shrill, excited yipping as the animals hear them coming near.

After being trapped in her head all day, it’s nice to just listen to this person talk about the dogs. It’s especially nice since Bella keeps nudging Johanna’s hand every couple steps. Like the dog can smell how broken she is and is trying to bring her back down to earth.

“These pups are almost four weeks old,” Dell announces. “Most of them have started walking and opened their eyes. You can hear they’ve found their piercing little barks.”

“How many are there?”

“Six,” Dell answers and opens up the gate containing the puppies to let Bella in.

Bella huffs and licks at some of the yipping puppies jumping excitedly onto her. Johanna hesitates and follows Dell into the pen with the puppies. They’re all little fluff balls bouncing around and Johanna can barely even take in how each one looks.

“The runt of the litter is a little behind,” Dell announces and crouches next to a trio of puppies. Two wrestle and play atop a smaller one. Dell scoops the tinier puffball up and sets it down in front of Johanna. “So, he needs a little extra attention.”

Johanna crouches down to look at the little guy.

Big brown eyes blink back at her as if the puppy has just been woken up. She feels something stirring in her chest when his tiny tail starts wagging and he clumsily stomps closer towards Johanna.

So trusting and excited, the puppy licks her at her fingers and trips onto the ground when he tries to lean into Johanna’s tentatively outreached hand. The puppy wiggles around on the ground so Johanna will scratch his belly, and a shocking little chuckle breaks out of her chest.

For a moment, she forgets that her entire world felt like it ended about twenty minutes ago. Yet this little animal is looking up at Johanna like she is the entire world.

It becomes pretty easy after that for Johanna to take up Dell on the offer to help out with the puppies in her free time.

---

Both her head doctors clock an immediate difference upon seeing her after the day she meets the puppies. She doesn’t even mention much but Dr. Minerva tells Johanna she looks lighter. And asked if she had anything she’d been enjoying or looking forward to.

It’s weird and gross, but for that session Johanna opens up fully with the doctor and sees her as more than some burdensome task she has to deal with. She’s as honest as possible about the breakdown she had on the side of the road, how she felt completely aimless and drowning in grief with her anger losing its fuel in this post war world. The dog finding her felt like some stupid sign.

After about one week of her new schedule of spending almost all her free time at Dell’s ranch to help with the puppies, her head doctors put in some paperwork with her bosses to switch Johanna to the crew working directly on Dell’s ranch. It allows her to spend even more time with the puppies before and after work.

It feels like she is slowly reviving with the spring after a hellish, endless winter.

---

“Why does he have a tail and none of the others do?” Johanna asks one day a few weeks later when the runt, who has become Johanna’s total shadow, is trying to bite at Johanna’s fingers as she plays with him. The rest of the other puppies are racing around freely on a grassy hill, but the runt struggles to keep up, so he’s been wanting to play with Johanna in the nearby shade under a tree.

Dell, who’s trying to wrangle the mass of zooming puppies, walks closer to pat the little runt on the head. “Since the dogs are bred for herding, it is unsafe for them to have tails. Otherwise, cattle can step on them. So, when they’re first born, we dock the tails. This little guy wasn’t super healthy when they were first born, and we didn’t even think he’d make it, so we didn’t dock it.”

“So, what will you do with him if he can’t be used for herding?” Johanna absentmindedly asks.

“My initial plan was to sell him as a pet to someone in the Capitol,” Dell begins and leans against the tree keeping an eye on the rest of the litter racing around. “But lately I’ve been thinking maybe he should go with you.”

“Trying to stick me with some defective herding dog or something?” Johanna jokes, ignoring the weird warm surge in the back of her throat. She feels some terror at the idea of having to take care of it all the time and what it would mean having something depend on her. Her track record shows that nobody can depend on her. Not even that stupid cat, Buttercup.

But it makes the idea of returning home to a life completely alone less suffocating.

“No, you two just seem pretty attached.”

And later that evening Johanna is propped up in bed, unable to sleep. She finds herself mindlessly starting to whittle a thick stick into looking like a bone. She thinks about how excited the puppies will be over it tomorrow, how the whole little mob will tug and topple over trying to carry around the oversized stick. Although Johanna doesn’t want them to have it, she thinks of the runt and how cute he’d be with it. He’ll probably cuddle and bite at the toy while lying on his back.

Ah, holy shit, she’s actually considering getting a dog.

---

The next day she broaches the topic with Dr. Aurelius. And she brings it up with him specifically, because she knows he won’t be in favor of Johanna taking on the responsibility of a puppy.

He’s the stricter of her two head doctors. It wasn’t until a week ago, that he very warily agreed with Dr. Minerva’s treatment plan of prescribing Johanna weedling. About a month ago, Johanna brought up how she used to smoke it with Archer. Apparently, after hearing that it’s helped with her trauma in the past and that she didn’t have dependency on it, Dr. Minerva thought it could be good for Johanna now.

Johanna was even concerned asking if it was okay with keeping her clean off morphling, but apparently with monitoring, Dr. Minerva thinks the weedling will actually help keep her from any relapses. It took weeks for Dr. Minerva to convince Dr. Aurelius who wanted to see Johanna remain sober for longer until she’d be entrusted.

It wasn’t until last week when it’s nearing the one-year anniversary of when she had her last mission with Virginia that Dr. Aurelius praised her sobriety enough to agree to prescribing the weedling.

And she blanches in annoyance and shock when Dr. Aurelius is heavily in favor of Johanna getting a puppy.

Honestly, she planned on him saying no, and that would be that.

It’s the first day she leaves work right when her shift is over.

She avoids the puppies, and if it’s that easy for her to just ignore an adorable pen of puppies today then she probably shouldn’t be owning any dog.

---

Her mood is so volatile and irritable that she spends most of the night storming laps around the old barracks.

Johanna cusses at herself and smokes her first weedling cigarette in almost a year. It helps ground her enough that she doesn’t tear the throat out of one of her coworkers asking if she was alright while she finished her umpteenth lap when it was nearing midnight.

She smokes only half the thing, preserving it since she’s only prescribed two of these a week. But it’s more than enough to let her be honest with herself in her head.

The empty and lonely longing she feels in her chest when the idea of that stupid little runt being her shadow all the time and joining her on a walk like this right now feels like it decides for her.

But he’s so fragile, why would she be good for any animal?

Dr. Aurelius kept talking about how good having a dog would be for Johanna, but at what cost?

She’ll probably fuck the animal up by her screaming nightmares or she’ll forget to feed it or something. She forgets to feed herself on bad days, how is she supposed to remember that for something else?

Her appointment the next day is with Dr. Minerva. And despite Johanna’s hesitance to the whole dog thing, she brings up the idea of keeping the little runt.

Unsurprisingly, Dr. Minerva is very much on board. She even tells Johanna about paperwork she’s already started that will allow Johanna to bring the dog with her anywhere. Apparently, she was also aware of Johanna wanting a dog before Johanna even was.

Johanna voices her obvious concerns: her length of the workday at her manual labor job around power tools, staying stable enough to care and train the thing, and trusting the world she’s in now to know it’s safe to love something. Johanna implies that last point rather than saying anything of the sort.

She begrudgingly agrees to keep an open mind and work on it with Dr. Minerva. She’s given Johanna answers and reassurances that show that this doctor works hard at her job outside her many hours a week talking to Johanna.

If Johanna decides to get a dog as a service animal, Dr. Minerva has worked out a plan with her shift supervisor to give Johanna three shifts a week where she will work on things like blueprints, paperwork, assembling furniture, and less dangerous tasks so she could bring the animal to work with her. She also gives Johanna a list of questions to run by Dell about dogs and Johanna’s concerns.

---

Johanna is ridiculously sheepish when she shows up to the puppies play pen. Dell doesn’t bring up her absence from the day before.

When Johanna finishes pouring out a sixth bowl of some kibble, she begins broaching the topic.

“My head doctor gave me this list,” Johanna fishes into her pocket and shoves it at Dell.

She busies herself by putting all the bowls down and separating the puppies from eating out of each other’s bowls. They all scarf down the food like their lives depend on it and are trying to snag anything they can from each other’s bowls. It looks exactly like the five Mason children from all of Johanna’s childhood.

Johanna was the runt in her family, and unlike her, the runt of this pack doesn’t have the snark and backbone she did. She huffs and scoops up the puppy and his bowl to set him on the opposite side of the pen since two of the other puppies inhaled half of his food and he just sat down.

“It’s a good sign most of your concerns are about him. Doing right by him,” Dell slowly begins after glancing over the list.

“Yeah, well I’m not very good for anyone’s health.” Johanna snarks. She crosses her arms and looks at the mass of puppies to avoid looking at the runt, “Everyone keeps saying how good he’d be for me, but I can’t be good for him.”

“I disagree,” Dell gruffly states. She kneels down next to the runt who is licking his bowl clean. “This little guy is made to be a therapy dog.”

“Because he’s a herding school dropout?” Johanna jokes, looking at his little tail that never stops wagging.

Dell chuckles, “Not necessarily. He’s very sensitive and intuitive to emotions. Think about how you met Bella, he gets it from his mom but he’s not nearly as spazzy as her.”

“So you’re telling me this dumb runt would be fulfilled and happy having to deal with providing support for a headcase all the time?” Johanna scoffs.

“Remember when we met, and I told you these dogs need jobs to keep themselves from misbehaving? It helps fulfill them, and yeah, most of them find that calling in herding. But this little guy adores you, I think he’s already taken the job of being your service dog without either of you trying.”

“What if I’m not cut out for it?” Johanna eventually asks after the wind whistles between them for several moments.

“I don’t think that’s the case, but I’ll tell you what. If you keep this little guy and it isn’t a match or you don’t want the commitment anymore, just call me up and I’ll take him back,” Dell offers. “But I know that’ll never happen.”

And unfortunately, Johanna knows Dell is right.

She fully realizes it as she is finishing up helping for the night. She’s filling feed containers, and the stupid runt, he’s hot on her heels even though he’s exhausted. All the other puppies are in sprawled piles as they nap, but this little guy is stubborn despite the exhaustion.

Once she puts the last feed bag away, she glances around to make sure nobody can see her, and she sits down on the side of the barn where she’s shadowed from the sunset.

“Come here,” she barely recognizes the softness in her voice. But the runt is already climbing into her lap before she’s finished calling him. He curls into a ball and gives her hand one small lick before he lets the exhaustion take him.

Johanna runs a hand through his fur and just breathes. As she sits there, her eyes lock on a dandelion growing from the cracked pavement by the barn.

The memories of feather light touches as Johanna mapped and explored Virginia’s tattoos as she slowly explained each fills her head. The dandelion on her wrist representing hope. Something Johanna rolled her eyes at for Virginia’s more optimistic ideas and feelings.

Look what that got her.

Virginia’s entire life was her fighting for a world like this.

The future they wanted together involved getting a dog like this.

And Johanna is left alone in that world now. Virginia made her promise to fight to survive in the quell, and Johanna did but as per usual she is the lone survivor of the pair.

Part of it feels wrong to get a dog without her.

She knows she needs to move forward.

A warm breeze cuts through the air and scatters some of the seeds from the dandelion. Tears fall from her eyes. It’s like Virginia here with her right now.

And for the first time, those happy and loving memories she feels don’t tear her open from the inside out with the hindsight of grief. Instead, she shuts her eyes and feels the warm breeze and sleeping puppy in her lap and feels hope like the stupid dandelion that’s probably decomposing on Virginia’s wrist right now.

It isn’t the future they promised each other they’d fight for, but it’s something close. Virginia wouldn’t have wanted Johanna to just give up. Nobody who loved her would’ve wanted that.

---

Dell finds Johanna like that a few hours later.

It’s long after the sun dips below the horizon, and Johanna just watches the dog breathe. Johanna doesn’t even notice she’s still crying until she blinks up at the noise of footsteps.

Thankfully, the tears go unacknowledged. She just tells Johanna to get up and bring the puppy.

Something inside her solidifies as she holds the sleeping dog to her chest as she sits in the passenger seat of the truck. Their trip is nearly silent, but as they’re nearing the barracks, Johanna doesn’t want to separate from the animal. Even if she sees him tomorrow, she realizes what meaning she may find in living with this stupid animal at her side.

“Hypothetically,” Johanna emphasizes the word, “if I were mildly considering the possibility of keeping this runt, how much does he cost?”

Notes:

wooo Johanna's getting a dog!!

This chapter is definitely like the lowest point, like from here on out it's pretty much only going up from here. Having a dog will help give Johanna a purpose.

A huge thanks for reading and for those that interact. I love hearing your feedback, it keeps me going! Chapter 14 is basically almost done being written and should be posted within a day. (I may even post it tonight). You guys will def wanna tune in for that one ;)

Up next in Chapter 14: Johanna struggles with naming her puppy. As summer winds down, she is sent to District 12, where several reunions are in store for Johanna.

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Summary:

Johanna names her dog the obvious, goes to District 12, and shares with Peeta.

It turns out that admitting she wanted to keep the runt was the easy part, the hard part is thinking of a name for the thing.

Naming him is harder to wrap her mind around than the fact that she cares so much about the stupid animal.

Johanna takes to just calling him the obvious – Dog.

Her head doctors both object and tell her it is some form of her deflecting and trying to minimize how much he matters to her, but it is the most she can manage.

Dell at least reassures Johanna that if she names him that now it can act as a placeholder for picking a real name. Johanna will likely just need to tack Dog onto the end of the name for a bit for him to learn it.

At Dell’s family’s kindness and her doctors’ urging, Johanna is moved from her room in the Peacekeeper barracks to a spare room in Dell’s house. It means she learns everything there is to know how to train this dog to help Johanna with therapy or whatever Dell said Dog’s calling is.

Johanna orders two books from the Capitol on dog training and behaviors. She is surprised when they’re delivered an additional tiny stuffed squeaky toy is in the box. It has a small note on it, signed by both her doctors, wishing her luck with training the puppy.

Dog’s a quick study at pretty much anything, and he got a jump start on his companion training young by bonding to Johanna. It also helps that when Johanna is not working, she is always with him. Whether it be helping Dell with all the puppies, trick training with Dog, or even just taking him on walks.

He is always at her side.

Walking him on his leash in the grassy, flat fields that smell like manure for miles feels freeing when a mere month and a half before she broke down on the side of her road from her isolation.

She builds him a play pen from spare lumber on the job sight. Her coworkers that Johanna was always curt and gruff with come to really like her for the two and a half days a week she begins to bring Dog with her. She keeps the play pen in the office and puts Dog in there while she assembles furniture and helps draw blueprints or calculate inventory. It doesn’t even annoy her that much when almost everyone uses their lunch break to come in and pet Dog or play with him for a bit.

Some of them are even brave enough to make small talk with her.

Dog eats up every bit of attention but at the end of the day all he cares about is going back home with Johanna.

It’s exactly what she needed.

The parts of herself that have had no time to settle or grieve finally feel like less of an impossible feat.

Time still moves slowly, nightmares still suck, she has mounds of grief, water is hard, but with each day things get a little easier. It’s not always forward moving.

But more neutral days start to outweigh the bad ones.

---

July fourth comes, and it is the first time that day is not a Reaping Day in seventy-six years.

Since Reaping Day was already a holiday before, it isn’t celebrated as one now. Instead, the holiday will be later in the year on the day the Capitol fell. Despite work resuming like usual, Johanna is given Reaping Day off by her head doctors’ request.

Johanna spends the day with Dog, walks with him, plays fetch, and then calls Peeta and Annie.

She hasn’t called either of them nearly enough. Johanna should absolutely be calling Annie more since she is probably going to pop that baby out within a month or so. But neither Annie nor Peeta mention that Johanna has barely called.

Just like her doctors, both notice an immediate shift in Johanna.

Annie is ecstatic for Johanna, and Johanna makes a joke about Annie naming her kid Baby or something if she wants to follow in Johanna’s footsteps. She asks Annie if she has a name picked out yet, she has not quite. It seems Asterid has been an occasional good support for Annie, but she’s actually reconnected with a few old friends from school who reached out to her.

It’s a good call, and Johanna regrets not calling Annie to chat like that for so long.

“Yeah, I got a dog actually,” she almost awkwardly grunts into the line and scratches at the back of her neck. “He’s been good for me or whatever.”

“That’s amazing, Johanna!” Peeta’s voice rings from the other end of the line. “How’d you get him?”

“They have a bunch of herding dogs in Ten, I met someone who breeds them, started helping with the puppies, and one of those little suckers got attached.”

“By little suckers you mean you?” Peeta teases.

She rolls her eyes, “Shut up.”

“How much longer are you in Ten?”

“A little over two weeks,” she answers and then smirks to announce the other main reason she called him. “Guess where I’m being sent next?”

“Well from your tone and Delly being stressed about managing placements in all the mansions for the incoming PCRA employees, I’m going to guess District 12.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” she replies in monotone and then chuckles.

“That’s exciting! I’ll tell Katniss and Haymitch,” Peeta responds brightly.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be just as eager to see me as you.”

“You’d be surprised,” he offers and sighs quietly. “She’s doing a bit better. You know with each day.”

“That’s how it is for all of us, I suppose,” she grunts.

“Well, I’m really looking forward to seeing you, Johanna!”

“Yeah, you too, Peeta.”

---

On her last night in District 10, the ranch she is working on has a huge barbeque with a freshly slaughtered cow for the departing workers.

Johanna eats her fair share of steak and shares a healthy amount with Dog.

Thankfully, Dell is gruffer than Johanna, so she doesn’t have to get too sappy when thanking her as it was this random stranger’s kindness that led to a huge shift in scraping Johanna up from rock bottom. A handshake and stated, “Thank you, for everything,” is enough to relay how much it meant to Johanna.

She came into District 10 at some of her lowest – narrowly avoiding a relapse, struggling with idleness, grief, and purpose. But she is leaving with something she never thought she could have again – a companion, something to keep her going on the day to day.

Johanna uses her new instant camera to take a few pictures of Dog playing with Bella.

The next day when Johanna and Dog board their train to District 12, she drops off a large yellow envelope addressed to Dr. Minerva.

It’s many months late, but Johanna finally made the doctor her collage. It has a forest backdrop but not like her original half-assed collage. She includes a cut out from the PCRA pamphlet, a picture of Dog as a puppy with his littermates, and the new picture of Dog from the day before.

I haven’t figured out the rest. But you can see I’ve made an effort that is less half-assed this time. Thanks for pushing me, I guess.

-JM

The note she stuck on top of the collage is short and to the point, but it felt good to write.

Johanna didn’t know she could genuinely be proud of herself anymore, especially over something as miniscule as that.

---

It’s genuinely shocking to see the remains of District 12 compared to the last time Johanna was here. Since the people here spent the whole summer removing rubble so they could rebuild, it makes what used to be the streets so barren.

A few people in the distance are working on unloading supplies from the cargo end of the train. The gray platform is filling with all the train’s passengers; she stops with the flow of traffic to surround someone who announces to form two lines for room assignments.

“Johanna, hey!”

She spins around at the sound of her name and waves at the sight of a smiling Peeta making his way up the platform steps.

“Hey, man,” she greets after giving him a brief one-armed hug. “You look way better than a few months ago.”

He chuckles easily, “Same goes for you.”

Johanna looks down at herself appraisingly and smirks, “Yeah, we both are a bit more buff since the Capitol.”

She is still not where she was prior to the Quarter Quell, but her job has had her put on muscle to be pretty close to how she looked before she started training.

“And your hair is a bit longer,” Peeta offers.

“So is yours,” Johanna laughs, and her attention is quickly turned to Dog. He’s patiently sitting and looking up at Johanna while rapidly wagging his tail. He whines as if it is agonizing for him to not greet the new person. She rolls her eyes, “Fine, Dog, break.”

Peeta kneels down when Dog rushes over to excitedly greet him. He pets his side and looks up at Johanna, “You named him Dog?”

She chuckles and slightly tugs the leash to get Dog to sit, “Yeah.”

“Not feeling too creative on the day you got him?” He teases goodheartedly. He pushes back up to his feet and swipes away at the dirt on his pants.

It’s such a Finnick response it makes Johanna’s throat tighten.

“Something like that,” she says and scooches up further in the line.

“Oh yeah, you don’t need to check in! Delly already knows you’re staying with Katniss and me,” Peeta says, he grabs Johanna’s bag she set down to heft over his shoulder.

“I am? This is news to me,” she bemusedly responds. “Didn’t realize the little married couple already moved in together.”

His cheeks redden and he chuckles out shyly, “No, no. Not married, and we technically don’t live together. But I’ve basically been staying at her place for the last few months. And once the lodging was needed for the people with the Restoration Act, I offered up my mansion totally.”

“Didn’t everyone offer up their place to basically fill it to the teeth with people?”

“Yeah, but an exception was made for Haymitch and Katniss’s homes, because-“ Peeta trails off.

“Yeah, makes sense.” Johanna fills in her answer. “So, what makes me so special to stay with the Mockingjay? Am I just that irresistible of a roommate?”

“Because we’re friends,” Peeta states obviously.

“I know we are,” she chuckles and gestures between themselves. “But is Katniss okay with it? Does she know about my dog?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. We’ve talked about it.”

“Well, I don’t plan on imposing much,” she honestly states. A few moments of silence with humid breeze blowing between them, she asks, “How have you been?”

As he catches her up on all things going on in District 12, he looks brighter than he ever did in the Capitol. He looks like the kid she had friendly interactions with before the quell. It doesn’t take a genius to guess why.

He quickly gushes about how things have been for him and Katniss. It isn’t overly disgusting, but Johanna still does scowl a bit. So gross. But it is sweet that they still have each other after all this.

“But she’s doing better than when I last saw her?” Johanna hesitantly asks as they walk through the gates of Victors Village.

“Yeah. There are still tough days, I’m sure you get it. But she’s been hunting a lot, which helps. She won’t be home for a while.”

The place feels homier than Johanna’s mansion ever did. The air is warm and smells of fresh bread. And Buttercup is curled up in the corner of the foyer.

To her utter delight, she feels pride at her dumb little Dog who obediently follows her command to sit and stay. Johanna chuckles when Buttercup blinks awake and arches like an upside down U when his ugly eyes notice Dog. But after a few hisses, he looks almost unimpressed at the docile creature.

“Hey asshat, remember me? I promise I didn’t abandon you,” Johanna chirps to the cat in greeting. She makes those dumb smoochy noises that is like a magnet for Buttercup. He does seem to remember a bit when he boldly starts approaching her. Or maybe it’s because Peeta is behind her closing the door.

Buttercup sniffs Dog a few times, and Johanna’s sweet puppy is almost wagging his tail off. She whistles lowly and he looks up at Johanna as if he is in excruciating pain to not go to love and greet the strange little creature.

Johanna smiles warmly thinking of the summer evenings when Dog would stray from his rambunctious littermates to play with a litter of barn kittens. The kittens took up a game of chasing Dog’s tail and he was in his glory spinning in circles away from the arching, playful paws. Johanna already knew at that point that she was going to bring him home with her. But at the moment it made her feel so happy and warm in ways she hadn’t felt in what felt like lifetimes.

Unimpressed, Buttercup brushes past Dog and rubs against Johanna’s shin.

It looks like the cat isn’t holding a grudge against her for the whole unintentionally abandoning him in District 13 thing.

---

“Are you sure you’re okay with my dog staying here too?” Johanna asks later that night after she’s unpacked in the guest room. And by unpacked, she means threw her bags on the bed and laid out Dog’s bed, play pen, and toys. He’s been at her heels while she helps Peeta set the table for dinner.

“Oh yeah, he seems super well behaved. And if he helps you the way Buttercup does for Katniss,” Peeta shrugs, “It’s a no-brainer.”

“That’s still the biggest plot twist of my life that those two ended up loving each other,” Johanna chuckles.

“Yeah,” Peeta laughs warmly. “She actually seemed pretty excited about a puppy coming around too.”

And he is correct, as when Katniss returns a half hour later, she is still even quieter than usual but shows her own version of excitement. The corner of her mouth turns up and she actually says hi to Johanna and stops to pet Dog.

The empty look in Katniss’s eye is worlds better than it was months ago before the assassination but is still present.

This must be what they all look like moving forward.

---

The three settle into an easy routine.

It’s the first time they’re all existing around each other without some deadly anvil hanging over their heads.

Johanna still brings Dog to work half the week, and Peeta eagerly offered to watch Dog on the other days.

Within their first few days there, Katniss even takes her own liking and interest in Dog, requesting that he should come with her on a hunt sometime.

“Trying to take my dog out in the woods to shoot it?” Johanna jokes.

Katniss blinks and rapidly shakes her head, “No. I’ve been tracking a flock of turkeys, he could help me take out more.”

“He’s a herding school dropout,” Johanna jokes.

“He could flush them out into the open by running after them,” she explains with a shrug, “If you are ever okay with him coming along to try, it could be interesting.”

Johanna ends up agreeing to it after giving Katniss an hour-long intensive lecture on bringing Dog with her. She also spends the last five minutes vividly describing how she will use her axe on Katniss if she were to lose Dog or if he gets injured. Katniss takes it all seriously and the first time she takes Dog hunting it is a big success with almost every filled mansion in Victors Village being given a dead turkey by lunchtime.

So that’s the routine.

Johanna works – and overworks.

Peeta bakes, helps around District 12, and occasionally watches Dog.

And Katniss hunts.

All three are victors. So they get it. They know not to question things of the other.

Johanna doesn’t acknowledge that Katniss screams in her sleep every night. Instead, she just orders some earplugs from the Capitol.

(It doesn’t escape Katniss’s attention on the day Johanna returns with the package. Johanna just shrugs and winks, “In case you two ever get too freaky.” Katniss blanches red. She looks pissed for a second but then calms upon realizing this is Johanna not questioning screaming nightmares.)

Peeta never takes it to heart when Johanna brushes off his offers to hang out when her boss forces her to leave work. Instead, he just wordlessly nods at her as she sneaks back downstairs to wash her dishes.

(Neither of them question or care that Johanna often makes her own dinner and eats alone in her room with Dog. She basically is like a ghost living in their walls who occasionally appears to say witty one-liners.)

It’s a new pattern that she follows strictly. She’s better off keeping as much distance from them as possible. Yes, even if some nights she would like to join Peeta baking something or join Katniss and Dog on a hunt, she won’t do it. But it’s better this way.

She has Dog and herself, that’s more than she even needs.

It doesn’t bring anyone back.

Johanna continues to work every day until she almost collapses from exhaustion. Even after leaving work, she moves outside until the sun is nearly setting. Walking Dog for miles, playing fetch and training with him on the porch, helping Peeta with yard work, cutting Haymitch’s lawn.

She can only sleep with bone exhaustion. Most nights she requires the aid of several hits of her weedling joints. They help dull the nightmares, but like clockwork they always return.

When the nightmares are too much, Johanna begins to regularly broach the landmine of her old hobby – whittling.

It busies her mind and dulls out the memories that become so clear and petrifying in the dark of night. But more often than not, she ends up angry. Angry at the unsteadiness that has settled in her hands.

The doctors told her she could have weakness and tremors for the rest of her life. All because of the fucking shocks.

It’s gotten better but still sucks and results in more scrapped whittling projects than successful ones. The important thing is it keeps her alive until it is light enough outside to take Dog for his morning walk.

By the end of her second week in District 12, she finally finishes the world’s slowest chess pieces.

The next morning, she shows up to her shift an hour early. By the time the shift supervisor, a man named Bob, arrives, the pieces are sanded, sealed, and painted.

“I’ll make a chess board for this during my lunch break, we could put it in one of the offices,” Johanna explains when Bob’s eyebrows nearly touch his hairline in surprise. “Or a school.”

Bob gives a small nod, but sighs with hesitation, “Johanna, you can’t keep breaking the work regulation hours.”

Johanna scowls at the reprimand. This is what she gets for being fucking nice? She works her fingers bloody most night and is trying to be generous to the cause. But as per usual, where is the thanks she gets?

Her tongue is quick and hot, and she incredulously hisses out one word, “Seriously?”

“The hours are there for everybody’s benefit. It keeps us from being overworked.” Bob explains mechanically.

“I don’t feel overworked.”

Bob shuts his eyes and huffs, “It also helps ensure quality.”

“You’re saying my work isn’t quality?” Johanna rises from her seat, swipes her arm out and knocks all the chess pieces onto the ground. “Are you kidding me? You know I am better than over half of these assholes combined.”

“I’m not saying your work is bad. Not by a longshot. But if you keep exhausting yourself, there will be mistakes. Or worse, you could be injured from overworking, you’re not going to be twenty-two forever,” Bob explains calmly. She knows he is just trying to be nice, but it feels condescending. “Take the next two days off. No exceptions, whatsoever.”

“Or what?” She challenges while crossing her arms.

“You know I give your doctors weekly updates, right? I’ll be telling them I’m concerned you’re working too much.”

Johanna guffaws, “What am I supposed to do for two days? It’s already almost fall, and winter will be here before we know it. Then we will have to stop building for months, why is there any benefit in me not being here for two days?”

“Because we have other workers and alternate shifts for that reason. Go, enjoy your break.”

Johanna rolls her eyes, livid. She flexes her dull fingernails into her palms and it’s so hard she nearly breaks the skin. She grumbles and stomps away, trying to keep herself from tearing Bob’s stupid head off with her words

Her storming only slows when opening the gate to Katniss’s yard. She beelines to the backyard while yanking her axe off her belt. She buries the blade in the tree stump she has been using for splitting wood.

“Stupid. Fucking. Bob.”

Each hissed out word is punctuated by burying her axe into the trunk.

An uneven loud step crunches on the leaves on the back porch.

Johanna snaps, and her body reacts to Peeta’s footsteps without thought. Reflexively she tries to yank her axe up and out of the trunk, but the blade is buried so deeply that it gets stuck and makes her fall onto her butt. Sharp pain shoots up her back, and she shakily exhales while glancing over her shoulder.

Peeta takes a cautious step, his white apron and arms are covered in flour. He approaches her slowly like a cornered animal.

“Johanna, are you okay?” Peeta eventually asks.

“What?” She hisses. “I’m fine.”

“No work today?”

Johanna groans in response. She is so pissed that she let Katniss take Dog along hunting today. What the fuck is she supposed to do now?

“Do you want to help me bake bread? I’m making some for Haymitch,” Peeta thumbs over his shoulder.

“No, not unless you want him accidentally poisoned,” Johanna sasses, angrily ripping up handfuls of grass.

“Hey, you know what else we could do?”

Johanna just rolls her eyes at him in response.

“You know that book I told you about? The one that Katniss and I are making,” he says.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Would you want to do anything like that?”

Johanna snorts, “Why would you guys want random entries of my dead family?”

Peeta chuckles, “No, no. It’d be your own, for you to have.”

“Did my head doctors put you up to this?” Johanna tries to sarcastically ask as she gets up and wipes the dirt off her pants. She absentmindedly clips off her utility belt and lets it clunk atop her toolbox.

“No, I haven’t even talked to Dr. Aurelius about this,” Peeta says. He shrugs simply, “I just thought of it. We don’t need to make it as big of a thing.”

Johanna shifts and hesitates, she already had her head doctor appointment this morning. And Dog is with Katniss. All her other hobbies can’t grab her attention right now.

She sighs and waves a hand, “Fine, but only because I have nothing better to do. And we’re doing it on the porch so I can smoke weedling. Deal?”

“Sure,” he smiles.

“I’ll even share if you’re nice,” she jokes lightly.

---

Peeta emerges onto the porch with a tray of cookies and a loaf of bread. He announces he’s going to drop the bread off at Haymitch’s and then they can start.

Johanna uses that time to fiddle with the unlit weedling joint between her fingers while staring down at her yellow envelope of pictures. She even brought out her notebook that her head doctors suggested she use as a stupid type of diary, but Johanna basically uses it for sporadic streams of consciousness, random thoughts, or for doodles.

The front door creaks again as Peeta emerges. He has a large sketch pad and box of pencils in hand. Peeta sets his stuff down on the rocking chair next to Johanna.

“Remind me to put some oil on that door hinge for you,” Johanna mutters absentmindedly.

Peeta chuckles, “Okay.”

The cookies he brought out are delicious, and she picks away at one and just stares at the icing cracking as pieces break off.

“So how do we do this?” Johanna asks through a mouth full.

“It might help to start with those pictures,” he offers.

Johanna unceremoniously drops the envelope on Peeta’s sketchbook resting on his lap. It makes her pained when those pictures are pulled out and she immediately looks up at the covered roof of the porch.

“Do you need me for anything else or can you just copy the pictures?” Johanna asks after the sound of pictures being shuffled tortures her like the jabberjays section of the Quarter Quell arena.

“I need you to tell me about them,” Peeta states. He takes some initiative and stops to ask, “This was your mother?”

She looks at the picture he is holding out. Johanna and Katherine are on each side of their mom, neither seem to be any older than four or five. In the picture, Johanna is holding her mom’s hand and has lifted it in the middle of twirling herself while Katherine hides behind their mom’s leg and tries to not stare directly at the camera.

Her mother’s face is a bit haunting since she’s smiling so easily at the camera and because it looks exactly like Johanna but only a few years older.

Johanna’s hand automatically goes to the silver chain on her neck, to fiddle with it. She notices her mother is wearing the same chain with a pendant still on it in the picture. She only wore the thing for Reaping Day. And based on Johanna’s age, there must’ve been a picture from after Conner’s first Reaping Day.

“Yeah, and my sister Katherine,” Johanna chokes out. She holds the necklace lamely between her thumb and index finger, “She gave me this necklace as my token in my first games. Family heirloom.”

“You look exactly like her,” Peeta absentmindedly observes. “Although I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before.”

Johanna chuckles and tosses her head back, “Yeah, big shocker why I’m not smiley. It’s funny, I don’t remember my mom smiling much, she was always just so tired because she worked so much.”

“What was Katherine like?” Peeta asks as he shuffles the pictures, and the next one is a picture of the pair of sisters probably a year before Johanna was reaped.

“A huge nerd,” Johanna dully offers. Her chest pangs emptily, “Too smart, but funny. We have the same birthday, only a year apart.”

She tries to continue but her voice breaks off and she reaches back for the unsmoked weedling joint, “I’m going to smoke some of this if we’re getting all heartfelt. Do you mind?”

He shakes his head.

Johanna flickers her lighter and continues quietly after a deep inhale, “We called each other twins, even had a stupid handshake we did for over a decade.”

“Didn’t you actually have siblings that were twins too?” Peeta conversationally asks.

Johanna nods and gets up to shove her rocking chair closer to his, she leans over and helps him shuffle through a few pictures until she stops on one of Willow and River from their nineteenth birthday celebration. Their mom went all out to celebrate her kids’ nineteenth birthdays, to celebrate surviving the reapings. She just never lived long enough for her two youngest kids.”

“They didn’t act like me and Katherine though,” Johanna offers, then she snorts an empty laugh. “They were close, although I do think Willow was going to murder River when her lifelong best friend started dating him. He had a crush on her since they were kids.”

“She didn’t want them to date?”

“Not because he was a jerk or anything,” she hums. “He was just kind of stupid, sometimes would say the wrong thing. But it worked out and they got married, then he died.”

“What ever happened of-“

“No clue,” Johanna quickly cuts him off and takes another hit.

“And this is your oldest brother?” Peeta asks when he pulls out a picture of Conner. It was a picture Conner took of himself by balancing the thing on his lumber rig and putting it on a timer.

“Yeah, he’d take pictures like that all the time for us. He transported lumber, so he’d take pictures in areas of District 7 we never got to see,” Johanna offers with a weak smile. “The job paid well, but we never saw him. He took it because he wanted to make enough money to get us all out and away from my dad.”

“Did he keep the job after you won?”

She nods, “I think he didn’t know what else to do since he’d been providing for his family his whole life.”

She rocks absentmindedly in the chair and takes another puff of her joint, “He’s the one who taught me how to use an axe super young.”

Peeta smiles easily, and Johanna notices his hand moving as he is scribbling down stuff Johanna said. But her lightness feels a lot more smothering when the next picture Peeta uncovers is the one of Archer posing with his new cane in front of Johanna’s greenhouse she built.

“Archer, right?”

“My mentor, yeah,” she cuts him off, strangled.

Peeta cautiously looks at her from the corner of his eye and then back to the picture, “I don’t know if I ever saw any reruns of his games.”

“They barely played them, Gamemaker error,” she quickly grumbles.

“He died during the games one year, right?” Peeta asks a bit tentatively, “I remember some headlines.”

“Yeah, the year before your games. He, uh,” the lit joint nearly drops into Johanna’s lap from how much her hand shakes.

“Here, let me hold that so you don’t burn yourself,” Peeta offers and gently pulls it from her grip.

“Going to smoke it for yourself?” She jokes while glaring a hole into the wood of the porch.

“I was going to put it out so it didn’t go to waste,” he chuckles and settles it down on the ashtray.

Johanna tangles her fingers together in her lap, “He killed himself. To protect me. He was my last connection, and Snow was going to try and use him as bait to sell me again.”

“Oh, Johanna, I’m so sorry.”

She shrugs emptily, “He saw me lose everyone. He knew I would’ve tried to protect him even if it destroyed me. So he beat both Snow and me to punchline, offed himself so I could never be used again.”

“It sounds like he cared for you quite a bit,” Peeta comforts.

“Yeah, he was more of a dad to me than my own father was.” Johanna simply answers.

As more silence follows, Peeta cautiously shuffles another picture forward. Johanna recognizes it immediately. It’s lower quality, taken from an instant camera that was at a party. It’s of Johanna and Virginia.

The picture wasn’t taken by actual photographers but Finnick, and it is obvious in how both of their guards are down. To anyone else seeing it being taken at the party, it still looks innocuous. It’s from one of the parties during the 74^th Games after the pair finally kissed.

They’re both sitting on a pool lounger. Virginia has one arm slung around Johanna’s waist, and the sight of it makes her own hips ache at the memory, longing for the touch that she’ll never feel again. Her own arm is lazily thrown over Virginia’s shoulders and Johanna’s other hand is holding her crystal stemmed wine glass in the air as if she is cheers-ing with the camera.

And now that Virginia is gone and the war is over, she can fully appreciate how happy they both look. The careful veneer of Virginia’s alter ego is very clearly gone, she’s unrestrained and free here. Those beautiful eyes are still visible under the poor flash, but it’s clear how she looks at Johanna.

Johanna had never noticed it before, or maybe she never let herself notice it until now.

Unrestrained admiration and devotion is twinkling in her hazel eyes. The smile on Virginia’s face is unlike any other, it is her own. Johanna isn’t looking back at her in the picture, but the happy open mouth smiled and amused glint in Johanna’s bright eyes radiate the similar feelings displayed on Virginia’s face.

She is suddenly filled with such immense longing she thinks a black hole is forming in her chest. 

“Is this-“

“Virginia, yeah,” she tightly whispers.

“It’s a great picture; you look really happy.”

And it’s been a very emotionally raw conversation, but she can’t tamp down her sob any longer. It tears through the silence and Johanna feels her cheeks streaking with tears.

She rushes to wipe them away, “Give me one second.”

Peeta doesn’t go after her when she gets up to race off towards the backyard. She collapses onto the steps of the back deck, and she lets out a few sobs into her hands.

Thinking about them all just hurts too much.

It makes being alive feel wrong.

Peeta’s distinctive loud tread sounds and she barely looks up. She only does when he reaches out towards her, he is extending the yellow envelope out to her and her half-smoked weedling joint.

“Figured you might want to use it,” he says.

Impulsively she speaks, “Wanna smoke it with me?” Johanna asks and a small conspiratorial smirk covers her mouth.

Peeta innocently opens and closes his mouth a few times and looks towards the walkway to the house.

“I’m not forcing you, just offering to share.”

Peeta looks around and moves his jaw as if he is thinking about it. Johanna knows it may be an overstep to offer any drugs to kids that have had the misfortune of having such a severe alcoholic as a mentor. Or if it’s okay since her own issues with morphling and stealing it from Katniss.

But Archer introduced Johanna to weedling after she had a breakdown, and maybe that is why she so easily offers.

“Worried about getting in trouble with the missus?” Johanna teases cheekily.

Peeta’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink at the teasing, “She’s not,” he shakes his head. “We aren’t together.”

“Sure thing, whatever you need to tell yourself,” Johanna chuckles. She holds her lighter in the air as question.

“We’re just taking things slow,” Peeta quickly mumbles. He sighs, “Fine, I’ll try it.”

“Hey, don’t do it if you don’t want to, I’m not twisting your arm, it would mean more for me anyways” Johanna offers and moves to stand. She still holds the unlit joint between her lips, but she moves it between her fingers. “Let’s go back on the porch.”

Firmly planted back in the rocker on the porch, she feels herself about to light the thing up and a warmth rushes through her chest at the sight of the sun beginning its slow descent in the sky. A fond, nostalgic feeling overcomes her as she takes a hit and offers the joint to Peeta who has wide curious eyes.

For once, she isn’t feeling constant agony in her mourning, because this moment is almost directly mirroring her Sunday evenings smoking on the porch with Archer. And instead of grief and guilt over it being gone, the fond warmth of the memories with him being paralleled with a new friend makes her feel something akin to happiness.

Johanna didn’t know mourning the memory of someone lost could make her happy in a way.

Peeta coughs violently after taking a tiny hit, he rushes to drink his water and wheezes. Johanna pats his back harshly like she would with her brothers. By the time he stops coughing, Johanna has smoked most of the rest of the thing. When she hands it back to Peeta, he only gets half an inhale in before coughing again.

“You know what,” Johanna gently says as she plucks it from his grasp. “We can probably just get you high from me smoking next to you so you don’t throw up.”

Peeta finishes his glass of water, “Good idea.”

By the time Johanna finishes smoking the thing, Peeta’s blue eyes are brightly contrasting bloodshot eyes.

“I used to spend my Sunday afternoons and evenings like this with mentor,” Johanna chuckles fondly. “I’d help him in his greenhouse all day and then we’d watch the sunset while smoking in our rocking chairs.”

“That’s sounds really nice,” Peeta responds distractedly. He begins drawing with a look of intense focus, seemingly deciding it’s a good time for Johanna to get a break from unloading so much information.

Johanna watches in serene silence as the sun peaks in the sky. She eventually grows antsy and curious, “Whatcha drawing over there?”

Peeta finishes a few strokes of his pencil and holds out the sketchpad to Johanna. She hovers her hands around it, not risking touching the page, but the sight of sucks all the air out of her lungs.

He has made the beginnings of a stunningly realistic sketch of Virginia. It’s not complete but the general outline of those features are perfectly captured on this page. Somehow, he managed to capture that happiness and joy that was in the one picture of poorer quality and applied that bright, unrestrained joy on a portrait of Virginia.

There’s no Capitol escort in sight. No rebel spy.

It’s just a picture of Virginia, the real her that Johanna was lucky enough to know.

Johanna doesn’t realize she’s crying until a tear falls on the page.

“Peeta, this is,” Johanna wipes at her eyes and searches for words at the warmth and grief in her chest at the drawing of Virginia. “It’s perfect.”

“Thank you!”

“You managed to draw how she always looked to me,” Johanna softly mumbles, not daring to look away.

“Well, I’m not done yet,” he sheepishly replies.

She gives him a watery smile and hands him his sketchbook, and he continues working on it. Johanna finds herself absentmindedly looking at all her pictures in contemplative silence.

When she gets bored she even begins doodling a very poor drawing of Dog in her own notebook.

She doesn’t know how long they both exist like that.

Johanna isn’t pulled out of her haze until Peeta speaks. His voice is quavering with fear.

“Um, Johanna does the stuff we smoked make you…see things?” 

Johanna whips her head over to look at Peeta, he looks disoriented and baffled. Ah shit, hopefully she didn’t just push him into an episode that he rarely has anymore.

“No,” Johanna answers slowly.

“I think it may have gone bad or something,” Peeta isn’t moving his eyes from where he stares. Johanna snaps her fingers, annoyed he’s blaming the quality of her drugs she kindly shared with him. Peeta glances at her for a second, “I think I’m hallucinating, but it looks totally normal.”

She is preparing to help him go through whatever he is dealing with or maybe she should wander off to find Katniss to help. Johanna doesn’t follow his gaze, dreading the sight of nothing.

“What do you see?” Johanna asks.

“Virginia just walked into Victors Village.”

Notes:

Virginia: ~surprise bitch, i bet you thought you've seen the last of me~

that wraps up part 2 - The Wreckage. I promise i wasn't dragging out her return, there's reason why Virginia's just popping up now.

thank you for reading and any interactions! I love hearing what you think :)

Up next in Chapter 15: Johanna/Virginia reunion

Chapter 15: Part 3: The Rebuild

Summary:

A long awaited reunion...

TW: mentions of past torture

The next thing Johanna knows, she’s whipping her head around to look.

And the wave of shock is immobilizing; it makes her world freeze – in a good way.

Virginia Venatrix, alive and here.

Johanna’s legs almost don’t work when she just blinks rapidly trying to scrub the image away.

And then instantly all the frozen parts of her spring into action. She stumbles off the porch and down the walkway, barely feeling the ground beneath her feet.

“Johanna,” her name is stated softly like some sort of salvation in greeting.

The last syllable of her own name isn’t even off Virginia’s lips by the time Johanna’s hands come up to desperately grab at both sides of her face.

For a brief millisecond, Johanna prepares herself for the disappointment of grabbing nothing but smoke.

But her hands touch solid, warm skin.

“Are you really here?” Johanna stammers, eyes darting rapidly.

She desperately takes in the face that is so familiar yet so new. Hazel eyes look bigger, more haunted and exhausted. But there is still familiar warmth beneath. A white scar runs diagonally up her right cheek.

“I looked for you; I thought you were dead. H-how are you here? Please, be real and not me just fucking losing it.”

In her desperate grip at both sides of Virginia’s face, she notices a distinct absence beneath her right hand. She weakly drops her grip the second the implication of what is missing sinks in.

Virginia wasn’t missing any ears when they dragged her into Johanna’s cell. Unsure if her brain is being creative in a cruel hallucination, her hand drifts to rest on Virginia’s chest over her heart. A steady heartbeat thrums underneath her fingertips.

Johanna’s eyes drift to watch her hand rise and fall with Virginia’s breathing.

One large hand comes up and covers Johanna’s own. A familiar warmth and comfort encapsulate her, and Johanna can’t stop blinking. Hot, thick tears well in her eyes from the sheer shock of the sight in front of her.

“Johanna, I’m here,” Virginia says it steadily.

And Johanna’s legs nearly give out at the familiar lopsided grin pointed at her. That smile is one Johanna has only ever seen from Virginia when they were alone. It looks so much more beautiful under the sunlight, out in the open for anyone to see.

It’s a smile a war couldn’t erase.

Johanna thinks her new favorite thing may be that Virginia’s crooked smile is on the side of her face with the scar, and she looks so gorgeous.

So gorgeous and so alive.

“I’m alive, I will explain everything.”

“Virginia,” Johanna is finally capable of breathing out her name. It’s a name that she has barely muttered in a year as it felt like a horribly painful curse, but now her voice is tinged with a very foreign feeling.

Hope.

“I promise I’m not going anywhere.” Virginia whispers. Her smile broadens, “Although I will say you’re being a bit more handsy than I would’ve expected; not that I’m complaining.”

The sarcastic flirty teasing allows the reality of this situation to click into place. Virginia is real and she is alive. Johanna never thought she’d be on the receiving end of that teasing that brings her back to life. She lets out a wet chuckle, realizing how she’s basically groped her to feel her heartbeat. But that steady thrum beneath her fingertips is her new favorite feeling.

It’s so much.

Too much goodness suddenly appearing in her nightmare of an existence. It’s as if someone dumped boiling water on ice.

Because suddenly all that excitement and hope mixing with how much she grieved, transforms into an incontrollable explosion of steam that takes the form of uncontrollable anger.

All the pain and grieving was for nothing. Virginia just let her grieve for over half a year.

Johanna’s hands shove into Virginia’s shoulders, firm but nothing meant to hurt her.

Either way she is so mad.

“It’s been over half a fucking year since the war ended. Where the fuck have you been? I grieved you,” Johanna’s venom in her question completely evaporates into all the agony of the last year.

A sob that sounds nothing like herself rips out of her throat; she barely even notices the hot streams of tears soaking her cheeks. Another uncontrollable sound akin to a wail rips out of her.

Virginia is looking at her patiently. Like she expected this reaction.

“You better have a good fucking explanation for just popping up now,” Johanna growls and gives the shoulders beneath her hands a firmer shove, “I thought I lost-“

Her own uneven, angry sobbed accusation cuts itself off from how her second shove to Virginia’s shoulders actually causes her to stagger back. Virginia takes tiny steps to steady herself and her body sways like a strong gust of wind sweeps up a piece of paper. One of her hands has to come up to grip onto Johanna to anchor herself.

That’s when Johanna notices the extent of Virginia’s transformation.

Shoulders that were once broad and strong are bony.

Virginia is wearing long sleeves and pants despite the warm weather, and she is drowning in the fabric similar to how Johanna drowned in her hospital gown in District 13.

Emaciated and unable to hide it beneath layers of fabric.  

And she lived in the fucking Capitol her whole life, it’s engrained in Virginia to do anything to hide impurities and improve any perceived appearance. It means she must be even worse than this appears.

The realization is sobering from her irrational outburst.

But a charming smile covers Virginia’s mouth like Johanna wasn’t just shoving her. Virginia attempts to shrug casually as she sardonically says, “Is being in a coma a good enough reason?”

Johanna lets out a hollow breath that may be a relieved chuckle.

And as fast as that anger appears, it completely dissipates from the relief she feels as Johanna allows herself to nod tearfully before shoving on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around Virginia’s shoulders.

Johanna holds her, hard and close. Lanky arms securely wrap around Johanna’s waist with warm familiar hands palming her back steadily. It automatically makes her sink into such familiar, secure warmth that her memories never did justice.

It’s all so familiar yet the geography of the warm body embracing her is something entirely new to recognize. Sharp hipbones press into Johanna’s abdomen, the way their chests press together now without her implants allows her to feel the rapid heartbeat against her own, and one of her hands tangles in Virginia’s hair which has thinned.

Johanna buries her face in Virginia’s neck. It still smells and feels like her, but is missing the vanilla scent of her perfume.

They both just hold each other, desperately just like their last hug before the Quarter Quell. But this time there’s nothing rushing them. There is no arena awaiting Johanna this time.

All the jagged emotional scars and walls formed in her last hellish year stop suppressing the warmth she rarely could stomach thinking about.  Every moment of love she’s had with Virginia comes crashing into her all at once like a tidal wave.

Virginia barely pulls away despite Johanna’s reluctance, but she doesn’t go very far. One of Virginia’s hands moves to the back of Johanna’s neck, and she leans down to firmly press her forehead against Johanna’s.

Johanna keeps her eyes pinned shut when the contact practically presses a sob out of her. Her hands shake uncontrollably as she holds both sides of Virginia’s face again with even more desperation.

“I’m here, Jo,” Virginia reassures.

She can smell the mint lingering in the uneven air between them.

The sound of Johanna sharply inhaling through her nostrils burns the limited air between them. Their noses brush lightly and so many good memories swallow her whole.

When a delicate finger wipes away at one of Johanna’s soaked cheeks, she rapidly shakes her head and moves away from this stupid forehead thing to hug Virginia even harder. This time Johanna just buries her face in her chest.

Virginia’s chin rests atop Johanna’s head and one of them makes a loud sob.

She doesn’t know how long she stands like that, almost being hypnotized from the hand tracing between her shoulder blades and the fact that Virginia is really here.

“I promise to explain everything,” the words echo from Virginia’s bony chest where Johanna is pressed and out into the humid air between them. “But first we need to go tell that poor boy he is not seeing a ghost right now.”

That finally yanks Johanna out of Virginia’s arms in this swirl of shock, relief, and hope.

“Shit, Peeta,” Johanna breathes.

She doesn’t let go of Virginia though, moving her hand down to grasp her forearm as she leads them up the porch steps.

“Peeta, she’s real.” Johanna crouches in front of him and already begins the reassurance, knowing how this may affect his hijacking recovery. His blue eyes are wide with confusion and some terror. 

For several moments, Johanna is so mad at herself for sharing her weedling joint with him. She doesn’t even know if his doctors would allow him to do that and for all she knows this little incident could’ve set him back weeks.

“W-we went to,” he blinks and shakes his head rapidly. “When we were still in the hospital in the Capitol, you and me went to her grave. Real or not real?”

To punctuate his question, he holds up the sketch he had started of Virginia. Johanna automatically – and rapidly – reaches out to flip and place the drawing on his lap to try and prevent Virginia from seeing that. Weird waves of embarrassment flood from her hot ears to her reddening face.

“Not real,” Johanna quickly reassures. “It was her sister’s grave. We went because I thought she was dead.”

That clarification almost immediately floods the flecks of confused panic out of his eyes. “Okay. She’s alive?”

“Real,” Johanna reassures.

“Okay,” Peeta says with a calm shrug and a small nod to himself. She’s guessing he was petrified of thinking he was hallucinating someone reanimating from the dead.

It’s honestly a similar fear she has too.

It’s such a mess of a coincidence that Johanna can’t fully grasp this as reality. Because of the confusion and overwhelming joy, she doesn’t let go of her loose grip on Virginia’s forearm. And Virginia doesn’t make any move to remove her hand.

Johanna repeatedly pinches tiny, dark bruises along her own forearm. It’s the only way she knows this is real and she isn’t dreaming. And it isn’t some sick trick like the Gamemakers did to her during her first games.

The rug isn’t being pulled out from under her, and it’s reaffirmed by Virginia gently nudging Johanna’s hand to stop her from pinching herself. It’s so familiar and sweet, it’s her.

“Are you okay?” Johanna asks, worried. “Should I go find Katniss or, ugh even Haymitch?”

“Johanna,” Peeta looks over her shoulder at Virginia and then back at her. “I think you’re more shocked than me right now. I’m okay.”

“You just asked me if the weedling made you hallucinate,” she rebuttals plainly.

“Yeah, but I just needed a second,” Peeta states. He smiles reassuringly at Johanna, “She didn’t sparkle like my tracker jacker hallucinations. It was just a coincidence. A good one.”

Johanna just nods once.

“Thank you for worrying,” he smiles.

And he’s just looking proudly at Johanna now. Like he’s seen her be resuscitated with life and a form of happiness she thought was gone.

Peeta glances over Johanna’s shoulder, “It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Virginia’s stare is lively and warm, she smirks at Johanna before looking at Peeta, “Wow, if it’s good things I will need to hear all about it.”

“I’m Peeta.” He politely introduces himself despite the fact that every single person in Panem knows who he is.

“Virginia. It’s nice to meet you,” Virginia’s voice is so polite in genuine pleasantries, no longer tinged with her phony accent. It’s like music to Johanna’s ears.

Johanna stands back up, clapping Peeta on the shoulder with her free hand. Her other hand that is desperately gripping onto Virginia tightens.

A sound of excited panting and claws on pavement turn Johanna’s enraptured attention away. To both of their surprise, Johanna drops her grip on Virginia as she crouches down to greet Dog. He excitedly bounds away from Katniss’s side.

“Who’s this little guy?” Virginia asks.

Dog crashes into Johanna’s arms. His four little paws do their excited tapping and stomping he does whenever he is reunited with Johanna. He spins around, wagging his tail excitedly as Johanna scratches behind his ears in greeting, “Dog.”

“Yeah, Jo, I know it’s a dog,” Virginia laughs.

She kneels beside her, holding out her hand for the animal to sniff. Johanna tries not to flinch at the sight of several missing digits on Virginia’s left hand.

Dog notices the new person greeting him and he continues to be a little betrayer, quickly forgetting Johanna to sniff and lick at the offered hand for him to smell. He excitedly rolls onto his back when Virginia pets him in greeting, “What’s his name?” She asks clarifying, looking up at Johanna.

“Yeah, his name is Dog.” Johanna states obviously with an eyeroll. “What else would I call him?”

“Johanna, you can’t just name a dog Dog,” Virginia looks over at her fondly.

“We’ve been trying to get her to change his name,” Katniss states as she ascends the steps to the porch looking warily at the scene in front of her. Katniss cautiously looks at Johanna and Virginia. She doesn’t miss the way that Katniss’s eyes widen in some shock at the sight of Johanna’s blotchy tear-streaked face. But it only lasts a second and she looks worriedly at Peeta who is in his own world sketching on a blank page. “Uh, Peeta, hello, I’m home early.”

He briefly looks up from the page and his face lights up similar to a puppy at the sight of Katniss, “Hi Katniss, I missed you.” He says simply and turns his attention back to his sketch.

Johanna bites down on the corner of her mouth to not laugh. Katniss zeroes in back on Johanna, no longer appearing sympathetic but accusatory, “What’s going on? Who is this?” She gestures at Virginia.

“Don’t worry. Peeta took like half a hit off my weedling joint and sat next to me while I smoked it, and now he’s on cloud nine,” Johanna explains simply.

“You gave him drugs?” Katniss nearly hisses. “Are you kidding me, Johanna? You of all people should know better than that.”

“Relax, brainless. I didn’t force him to do anything. And you’re not his mother; he made his own decision.”

The way Katniss angrily steps forward makes Johanna immediately stand upright from her kneeling position, leaving Dog to be lavished with attention from Virginia. Johanna tilts her jaw defiantly and Katniss has fire in her eyes, “You became a morphling. Do you remember how bad your withdrawal was? Because I sure do. Why would you ever think you have good authority to offer anyone drugs?”

Oh, that little bitch, Johanna is seething, about to do something dumb like slap Katniss harder than she did in the arena. Although any slap Johanna could deliver wouldn’t sting nearly as bad Katniss’s words just did.

It’s the cruelest thing Katniss has ever said to her. Shame and guilt at how this is being revealed to Virginia is only compounding on her hurt anger.

Virginia quickly stands up. Dog rolls back onto his feet and trots over to greet Peeta who is still in his own world. Johanna takes one moment of smug enjoyment at the way Katniss involuntarily takes a step back when Virginia is standing at her full height, towering over both victors. Except Virginia isn’t standing to size Katniss up, she’s trying to reign Johanna in.

Johanna’s hand that was forming into a fist is engulfed by Virginia’s gentle hold. The squeeze delivered to her fist softens her hand into unfurling to grip Virginia’s hand back. Johanna finally stops glaring in this fun staring contest with Katniss to look over into pleading hazel eyes. Virginia is looking at her softly and it somehow calms down her fiery rage to be more manageable. “Breathe,” Virginia mouths the word at her.

Johanna rolls her eyes at the familiar trick and begrudgingly huffs mockingly.

Johanna turns back to Katniss, keeping her eyes pinched shut and inhaling. She worries the sight of Katniss alone will be enough to cause Johanna to instigate a physical fight.

“Of course, I remember. Do you really think I’m that stupid that I would ever go near anything like morphling again?” Johanna tries to keep her voice steady, but her words sound venomous by the end of her question.

Virginia’s places her hand on Johanna’s back, and it anchors her slightly. Johanna leans into touch, trying to latch onto Virginia’s calmness.

Johanna was just this worried about Peeta in her head before Katniss showed up. And Katniss is protective to a fault. Even if that means saying abhorrently mean things.

“If it were dangerous, my head doctors – who might I remind you are the same people who require I piss in a cup in front of a nurse weekly to check my system for morphling – wouldn’t be prescribing it to me.”

She feels some satisfaction at the look on Katniss’s face when she realizes she was wrong. She isn’t glaring at Johanna with contempt anymore, just wariness.

“Peeta’s fine by the way,” Johanna sasses, trying to take attention away from all the undesirable details about herself that were just casually shared to Virginia.

Katniss breathes out a sigh, losing all her edge and staring down at her feet, “I just don’t want him to get hurt. He’s been through enough.”

“Yeah? We all have,” Johanna drawls as she crosses her arms. “And I wasn’t trying to hurt him; I was trying to help.”

“Even if you are trying to help, you didn’t think this decision through. You aren’t his doctor, this could’ve done damage. It could set him back weeks.”

Johanna looks back over at Peeta and turns to Katniss, rolling her eyes, “Yeah, he looks like he hates it,” she sarcastically responds. “And even if he wasn’t enjoying himself, it will only last a few hours.”

“Peeta,” Katniss says softly. She steps past Johanna and moves to stand on the other side of Peeta in the rocker. He barely looks up from his sketching. “Peeta, are you okay?”

He looks up distractedly until he notices Katniss, he smiles widely, “Of course I’m okay. You’re here.”

Peeta returns to the page and Katniss turns her attention to Johanna. If Johanna wanted to go for the low hanging fruit on whatever this confrontation is she’d tease her for how she is blushing over Peeta’s simple response.

Katniss is crossing her arms and no longer boldly meeting Johanna’s eyes.

“See he’s focused on drawing, and he is complimenting you, you’re welcome,” Johanna says since Katniss is doing nothing to acknowledge she was wrong.

“I am not thanking you,” Katniss says stiffly, but her glare is less angry.

Virginia clears her throat, and Johanna returns her attention to the continuously shocking sight of her alive and well. It’s enough to soften her sharp defensiveness. Johanna rolls her eyes when Virginia gives her a look urging her to introduce her.

“Right, Virginia, you know who this is,” Johanna drawls. “Katniss, this is Virginia. I just found out she isn’t dead.”

“Not dead?” Katniss repeats.

“Is that how you’re going to introduce me from now on?” Virginia teases. The way she smiles at her makes Johanna’s heart lurch. It’s so disorienting and wonderful that for once, she barely suppresses her own fond smirk.

Virginia holds her right hand out in greeting to shake Katniss’s hand.  Johanna closely watches the action to see if Virginia is missing any fingers on her right hand too. Luckily the hand is unmarred.

“Virginia Venatrix,” Virginia says introducing herself. “The how to why I’m not dead is a long story.”

“And you know Johanna how exactly?” Katniss asks.

Virginia automatically returns her hand to hover over the small of Johanna’s back. She gives Johanna quick appraising look and settles on, “We’re old friends.”

When Johanna hears that word, she stiffens. Overcome by twinges of insecurity at the word friends. They never defined that they were romantic with any childish labels, their relationship just evolved with them. All Johanna knows is old friends doesn’t do what they have justice. And it makes Johanna’s mind immediately jump to the worst-case scenario.

What if she is mad at me for what I said when they tortured her? She had to know I was lying like I was trained to. Johanna has heard her last words to Virginia on repeat for almost a year.

“Johanna, can we have a word?” Katniss asks, and Johanna exhales shakily, feeling raw.

Only Katniss can see her face right now, and she knows her face went from beet red to white as a sheet in seconds. Katniss rudely yanks Johanna into the house behind her and closes the door behind them, “Is she safe?”

“Do you just never listen? She just said we are friends.” Johanna drawls trying to sound extra bitchy. She can feel the way she is being inspected, and she swallows hard to try and yank up her walls.

It’s been a very draining afternoon. But then when she meets steely gray eyes, she hears the harsh words sneered out at her you became a morphling. And Johanna hates that something Katniss Everdeen said to her has destroyed her emotional resolve in seconds.

Johanna scoffs, glaring up at the ceiling, “Whatever, Virginia, Dog, and I will just go stay somewhere else. I’ll go get reassigned housing from my boss. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“What?” Katniss incredulously asks. Johanna tries to shoulder past her, but Katniss stands in the way. “I’m confused.”

“You’re confused?” Johanna mocks and laughs.

That laugh of hers that always precedes her saying something irrevocably damaging. She is about to tear into Katniss, feeling the vein pulsing in her forehead when Dog’s shrill puppy barks drift in from the porch.

It makes her immediately think of what she is going to do about Dog if she says something that will completely destroy her relationship with Katniss, therefore, Peeta by extension. The nasty vitriol she wants to spit out is swallowed down and she reminds herself: just be the bigger person so you still have a dog sitter while you work.

Johanna swallows thickly, her mocking smile dropping immediately. She sees that familiar glint of fear in Katniss’s eyes that she hasn’t seen since that night in the arena. And maybe she made a giant mistake for trusting her and letting them become some approximation of friends.

She’s so tired she can’t even hide the uneven quivering in her voice. Johanna just sounds small, “I just figured you wouldn’t want some morphling freak and a stranger from the Capitol staying here.”

“I never called you a morphling freak,” Katniss argues the semantics rather than listening to Johanna.

“You basically did,” Johanna says emptily. Jeez, she sounds so pathetic and whiny right now.

“Johanna, I-“ Katniss finds herself at a loss for words. “I just wanted to talk to you in private to make sure she was safe to stay in my home. But also, for you. I wasn’t sure if you were under duress, when she just touched your back, you flinched and went pale. You clearly have been crying, which I have maybe seen once before. And you don’t have a good track record with Capitol citizens treating you humanely.”

Oh.

Katniss is worried about Johanna.

And she came in here guns blazing ready to destroy anything they had resembling a friendship. Maybe that dog is helping her from doing more damage to those around her.

“I’m just in shock,” she lamely offers with a shrug, because her other options were doubling down and lashing out or being embarrassingly honest. “I knew she was in custody during the war, I thought she…”

She can’t say the word. Not when Virginia is out of her sight on the off chance it isn’t real.

Johanna shakes her head, “She was my district’s escort and a rebel spy.”

“So, you want her here?” Katniss confirms.

Johanna nods, “Yeah. But I’m not an awful houseguest, I was genuinely offering to move us since you guys don’t even know her. You really didn’t sign on for this when offering up your guest room.”

“If you trust her, she’s welcome here,” Katniss says with a sense of finality. She side steps from the door where she was blocking Johanna, awkwardly kicking at the ground, “I’m sorry by the way. I didn’t mean it, the morphling comment.”

Johanna swallows thickly, “Yeah, thanks. I, uh, I’m also sorry I dipped into your morphling supply.”

Katniss gives her a small smile and opens up the door. She invites Virginia in and tries to grab Peeta’s attention. He is still in his own world drawing, and Katniss sighs softly going out onto the porch to talk to him.

Virginia crosses the threshold with her bag slung over her shoulder and Johanna’s box tucked under her arm.

“How much of that did you hear?” Johanna asks.

“Oh, nothing!” Virginia replies lightly. She motions a bit awkwardly to the left side of her head, “I can’t really…”

“Hear?” Johanna offers with a wry smile.

“Aw, you noticed,” Virginia sardonically replies with such warmth it’s almost unreal. It makes Johanna genuinely laugh and grin. “Yeah, this side is basically useless now. Can’t distinguish directions or hear from far away anymore either.”

“Oh, uh,” Johanna awkwardly reaches up to adjust her bandana. “That sucks.”

Virginia’s eyes soften and she slouches a bit as if she is finally slackening in relief, “Yeah, well there are worse things, right?”

Johanna smirks and just nods while barely daring to blink as she stares at Virginia. Because the change of an alive and half-deaf Virginia is much better than a dead Virginia like she thought things were not even an hour ago.

“Definitely,” Johanna breathes out, her eyes slowly roaming down Virginia’s body – just taking in the unbelievable sight.

She steps in closer and hears Virginia inhale sharply as Johanna’s fingertips brush across her hands while plucking Virginia’s bag and Johanna’s box out of her grasp. Because Johanna wants to, but also because Virginia looks like carrying the bag and box up a flight of stairs would require several stops to catch her breath.

Johanna mutters, “I’ve got this,” she whistles through her teeth over her shoulder, “Dog! Come on, let’s go.”

There is no noise of nails on the deck and Johanna heaves a sigh. She inhales harshly about to whistle harder, but Katniss appears in the front doorway.

“You go ahead, Johanna. Peeta and I can look after him tonight if you want some,” the girl stands awkwardly and looks anywhere but Johanna, “time to catch up.”

“Don’t go getting so soft on me, Everdeen,” Johanna jokes sarcastically, but catches her eye and shoots her a smile. Katniss nods at her, understanding this is Johanna’s way of saying thanks. She turns to Virginia and nods towards the stairs, “Want the tour?”

“All Victors Village mansions are identical,” Virginia answers automatically, until she realizes Johanna wasn’t fully asking that in the literal sense. She awkwardly looks around, “Yeah, sorry.”

Johanna feels such a mix of disbelief, joy, and awkwardness. This woman was her whole world, and she lost her.

But now she is back, and Johanna is terrified that she won’t live up to the person she used to be.

Once they reach her bedroom, Virginia excuses herself to wash her hands in the attached bathroom. As soon as the door shuts, Johanna uses the moment to rush over to the floor-length mirror to inspect her appearance. The mirror is beside her closet filled with flannels, sweatshirts, and jeans for working in. She wishes she had some cuter clothes right about now.

Johanna ruminates at her reflection in the mirror.

She’s wrapped in shame about her less than clean hair. It’s been a few days since she last washed it. Luckily, she already had a bandana wrapped on her head to make the unevenly growing mess appear somewhat normal.

The cloth covers most of her greasy hair, but she is feeling a very foreign feeling of self-conscious insecurity in her looks. Leaning into the mirror, she wipes at her blotchy cheeks.

Her outfit begins to not work for her in many ways. She sneaks a glance back at the closed bathroom door and briefly wonders if Virginia is also doing some last-minute touch ups for the same exact reason.

Johanna is in the middle of changing, topless, and looking for a better shirt when the door creaks open. 

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Virginia has seen Johanna naked before. Many, many times. And in several different ways. But that was before she was sent through another arena and was kept as a prisoner of war.

The noise of shock from Virginia as she exits the bathroom isn’t even at the good parts of her exposed nude upper body.

Johanna’s facing away from the door, putting her angry scribble of whip scars on display. She can almost feel how Virginia’s eyes are glued on the terribly healed wound on her right shoulder.

Johanna quickly yanks on a white shirt, and spins around, almost nervous at the sight of Virginia frozen by the bathroom door.

“I wasn’t putting the moves on you; I was just changing. I swear,” Johanna jokes. But she’s only met with silence.

Virginia nods and swallows thicky. She’s looking at Johanna with an unguarded softness, the look on her face looks as if she is breathless and in pain at all the torture Johanna endured. Virginia takes a few shaky steps after clearing her throat.

The pair stand close, but not as close as earlier.

Johanna feels like she finally gets a good look at Virginia. And it almost makes her tired looking at her.

“I know we have like a ridiculous amount of stuff to catch up on, and you have a million questions,” Virginia stutters a bit nervously. “But…”

“You’re exhausted and desperately need to sleep?” Johanna finishes with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah, I came as soon as I could, I promise,” Virginia says earnestly.

And after a year of being manipulated and lied to, Johanna knows this isn’t a lie. Ever since Virginia revealed herself as a spy, she’s never lied to Johanna.

Something so decayed and destroyed inside her sparks alight at the implication. That Virginia probably found out where Johanna was, grabbed what she could, and got on the literal first train available.

To have someone back lie that.

It’s a lot.

“I know you did,” Johanna says. “It’s probably a good idea you sleep, that way I can…”

“Kinda let everything sink in?” Virginia knowingly states.

“Yeah.”

“I know it’s early, but maybe you can stay with me,” Virginia almost shyly asks.

Johanna smirks, “Oh definitely, I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight for prolonged periods of time in case this is all some prolonged hallucination or mental break.”

“It isn’t,” she reassures and steps towards the bed. “Now let’s go, I’ve been dying to get in bed with you.”

“Don’t say dying,” Johanna jokes to try and cover the flush running up her neck and to her cheeks.

As if Virginia hasn’t been out of reach for over a year, as if they both haven’t been through their own layers of hell, they fall into old routine like they always did on missions. Johanna sits against the headboard and just looks down at Virginia as she settles beneath the covers.

“Did you want something to eat before you sleep?” Johanna asks.

“I ate on the train,” Virginia tiredly mutters. “But I didn’t sleep.”

“Too excited to see me?” Johanna teases.

“Yeah,” Virginia sincerely says with an easy grin. “Besides I always sleep better with you anyways, so now I’m ready for my best sleep in a year.”

“By all means, sleep away.”

Much to Johanna’s surprise, Virginia doesn’t resume her old corpse pose she always defaulted to for sleep. The only time she ever slept differently was when they cuddled, which she isn’t doing either.

Instead, she turns on her side towards Johanna, her head resting on a pillow but inches away from Johanna’s lap. Before the Quell Virginia probably would’ve fallen asleep between Johanna’s legs and using her lap as a pillow with arms tightly wrapped around her.

But the lingering awkwardness of the time passed makes both hesitant.

“You really went to Valerie’s grave?” Virginia softly murmurs after a few minutes of silence, blinking open her eyes and looking up at Johanna through thick eyelashes.

Johanna shrugs, “Yeah, and technically your mom’s too. I don’t know, it was something you said you wanted to do, and it was when I was trying to accept that you were dead.”

Her right hand that is tangled in the sheets is covered by Virginia’s tentative grasp.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for not being dead, okay?” Johanna responds firmly.

Virginia rolls her eyes, “Fine, I’m sorry I’m too tired for explaining everything right now.”

“The sooner you sleep the sooner we can talk,” she says. “I know we’re just little old friends but if you need to sleep closer or other ways that used to help you, you can.”

Virginia rolls her eyes even harder this time and chuckles lightly, “I knew you’d latch onto that one. I was just trying to give her as quick of an answer as possible, and it’s been a year. I don’t know if you even want-“

“I want,” Johanna urgently cuts Virginia off. “All I’ve wanted is for you to come back to me, and you did. Now get some damn sleep, I’m getting tired looking at you.”

“Wow, my death has made you so wise,” Virginia teases as she lifts her cheek and scoots closer into Johanna’s side. She throws a scrawny arm across Johanna’s lap and tangles her fingers in the fabric of  Johanna’s shirt by her hip.

A few minutes after sleep clearly alludes Virginia, Johanna briefly wonders if she can’t sleep from Johanna’s staring when a hazel eye peaks open and playfully looks up at Johanna.

“Aren’t you going to sleep too?”

Johanna shakes her head, “No.” Then she hesitantly reaches a hand to push some of Virginia’s hair off her forehead. She threads her fingers through black hair, tracing along Virginia’s scalp. Part of her is fueled by curiosity if she will find raised and uneven scars hidden by hair just like Johanna’s own skull.

“I don’t want this to be some dream – like a really mean good dream.”

“It’s not,” Virginia offers gently. “But I understand.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know good things could still happen to me,” Johanna absentmindedly states as she experimentally scratches her fingernails while playing with her hair.

“Are you trying to lull me to sleep like a cat?” Virginia tiredly jokes after letting out a soft hum at Johanna’s ministrations.

“Buttercup was good practice, I guess. We were roommates for a bit in District 13, ya know.”

Virginia presses a bright smile against her pillow and gives Johanna one last warm look, “Goodnight, Jo.”

Virginia doesn’t fall asleep as fast as she used to, but she drifts off relatively quickly after that.

Johanna can tell from how deeply Virginia knocks off and the layers of exhaustion that show in her unconsciousness that she will likely sleep straight through the night.

Johanna doesn’t think she will tire of it or get bored of the sight. She thinks it might just be enough time to stare at in a way that would probably be creepy if she weren’t in such relieved shock at Virginia in her bed right now. Her arm is across Johanna’s lap, she’s really here.

Somehow this is real.

That reality feels fragile and she is petrified of sleeping, not if it means this being a dream and Virginia disappearing when she wakes.

Except Virginia still must naturally calm her enough that she does start drifting off a few times, her head falling forward making her neck snap up and blink rapidly.

Deep in the night the hand in her shirt yanks harder and it almost sounds like quiet, strangled sobbing starts coming out of Virginia as she tenses and twitches.

What the fuck did they put her through?

Even after all her fucked childhood spy training and family trauma, Virginia was never a person who showed her nightmares. But it’s after a third hard twitch and more audible sob sounds that Johanna decides to wake her.

She tries whispering Virginia’s name a few times until she remembers Virginia is sleeping on her one remaining ear, probably rendering her totally deaf.

“Hey,” she repeats as she shakes Virginia’s shoulder.

Virginia blinks her eyes open and the hand in Johanna’s shirt presses into the mattress as she tries to sit up, “What? Wh-“

She cuts herself off and opens and closes her mouth a few times while blinking at Johanna before flinging forward to wrap her arms around Johanna’s neck. Virginia buries her face in Johanna’s shoulder and lets out a muffled whimper.

“Oh, Johanna,” she breathes out in relief. “You’re here.”

“Did you forget?” Johanna smiles a bit stupidly as she hugs her back. Johanna flattens her palm on Virginia’s lower back to try and smother the uneven sobs and shivers running through her.

Virginia nods into Johanna’s shoulder. She can feel a small section of her shirt turning wet from tears and pressing into her skin.

“I think I had a nightmare of your fear,” Virginia mutters. She sniffles and rubs her face into Johanna’s shirt harshly, “I showed up here and they said y-you died.”

“I’m impossible to kill,” Johanna flippantly responds. “I’m a cockroach, remember?”

Virginia pulls away and looks directly at Johanna with such intensity it almost makes Johanna want to shrink back, “You look so good.”

“Thanks?” Johanna chuckles a bit at the severity this is said to her. Especially since she has definitely looked better.

“The only sight of you I’ve had to go off for a year was,” Virginia shakes her head and stares down between them.

“Me in the cell,” Johanna finishes. She then whistles lowly, “That’s rough, people in Thirteen were literally scared of looking at me for a bit. I’m shocked you were eager to find me with that visual to go off of.”

“Shut up,” Virginia grumbles and tiredly plops back down. This time she presses her cheek into Johanna’s knee. “Missed you, so much.”

“Yeah, I missed you too,” Johanna mutters sincerely as Virginia begins to drift back off to sleep.

She grieved her and had to learn how to live without Virginia, but now she doesn’t. She’s really here.

And despite her intention to stay up all night, Johanna can’t fight fully nodding off with the comfort of Virginia beside her.

---

Johanna didn’t even realize she fell asleep until she’s blinking awake and stretching out her stiff neck. Before her mind even has time to conceptualize the fear of everything possibly being a dream, the hand that tangled in her shirt last night steadily palms her hip. A sharp cheekbone adjusts and digs into Johanna’s thigh.

Still sitting up, she squints down to see Virginia is already awake and watching Johanna. In a rare moment, Virginia has an open expression of something bordering adoration on her face.

“Stop watching me sleep, you creep,” Johanna sleepily grumbles.

“I can’t help it,” Virginia chuckles. A hand comes up to run her fingertips gently through the locks of Johanna’s bangs that have fallen free from the bandana that has half slipped off her head. It’s becoming too long to tuck properly behind her ear, but it leads to Virginia running her fingertips along the side of Johanna’s face. Virginia softly murmurs, “You were arguing in your sleep. It was honestly kinda cute.”

Johanna scowls and scrunches up her nose, “Yuck. Do you mean talking in my sleep?”

“No, arguing.”

“Anything groundbreaking?” Johanna tiredly mumbles.

Virginia laughs, “No, just a lot of you threatening Katniss bodily harm for calling you names.”

Johanna’s lightness in her chest comes to a screeching halt. All the air sucks out of her lungs, “I didn’t say she was calling me names in my sleep, was I? She called me something.”

Calling her out on the omittance of details only makes Virginia falter for a second as she tries to sound casual in response, “I didn’t realize I was required to relay the details verbatim.”

“Just say it, you know. She made sure to announce it in front of you,” Johanna grunts and untangles herself from Virginia and shoves to sit at the edge of the bed. The bottom of her heels dig into the cool wood and she wants to vault off it and sprint away, but the sound of Virginia shuffling quickly on the sheets halts her.

A fingertip just barely touches the edge of the protruding scar on Johanna’s shoulder, “It was that term. A reductive one in my opinion.”

Johanna’s shoulders hunch in. She almost feels like a pouting child, but she can’t help how small she feels as she crosses her arms.

“Johanna, you know I don’t care about that, right? It seems you have a decent handle on it now, and you probably had no choice when that addiction began because you were probably put on high doses from your injuries. I remember what you looked like in that cell, you had to have been in so much pain.”

A small gasp involuntarily slips past her lips and she shakes her head. Because she didn’t realize until now that even when Katniss was mad at her she didn’t go low by exposing the worst aspects of Johanna’s addiction.

“I don’t think you’d feel that way if you knew everything,” Johanna mutters.

She pinches her elbows to keep from sprinting as Virginia scoots in closer, her hand now lightly tracing along the scar until she grips Johanna’s shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze, as if to urge her on.

“Try me.”

“Will you leave me? When I tell you?” Johanna hates how tiny her voice is.

“Nothing will make me want to leave. The last year I’ve just been trying to get back to you,” Virginia reassures. “I never want to lose you again.”

“But I’m not the same person you knew, I turned into my dad,” Johanna says thickly. She huffs in anger at herself, “I stole Katniss’s morphling for a few weeks. Stole from her in front of her and I knew she’d let me since she blamed herself for my torture. And I didn’t feel bad about it.”

“Well, it’s incredibly addictive,” Virginia clinically responds after a few beats of silence painfully stretch between them. “Given where you were likely at in your recovery mixed with the awfulness of the war and District 13, I can understand. It’s not the best, but I don’t view you differently for it.”

“That’s not the only thing,” Johanna mumbles.

The vote for the Capitol Hunger Games infected her mind like a persistent black mold last night. She has no clue how to tell Virginia about it without it probably making Virginia want nothing to do with her.

“I don’t want to talk about it, but I’ve done horrible things. And you’re so good. You were way too good for me before, and you’re definitely too good now,” Johanna insists. “I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up, you don’t get to decide for me,” Virginia closely mutters behind her. “I know we both have been through a lot. Neither of us are the same as before or proud of everything we’ve went through…but Johanna, we’re both here and alive.”

The hand squeezing her shoulder urges her to turn around and Johanna sighs before turning to look into earnest eyes.

“It’s all I wanted, okay? We can figure out the rest,” Virginia offers with a pretty smile. “We finally have time.”

Johanna silently nods and falls forward to press her face into the fabric of Virginia’s shirt and holds her tightly.

---

“How do we do this?” Virginia eventually asks.

Johanna toes a pebble across the dirt and nearly raises her eyebrows into her hairline in shock, “Why are you asking me? I figured you’d have an answer for that.”

They walk out the gates of Victors Village as the gray light of dawn spills over the horizon. Somehow both of them managed to wake up before both Katniss and Peeta who both awaken exceptionally early for their hobbies.

“Well, you’re the one probably dealing with a lot more shock,” Virginia awkwardly shrugs. “You probably have a million questions.”

“You don’t have any questions for me?” Johanna asks teasingly.

“Oh plenty,” Virginia says simply. “But I always knew you were alive, so I feel like your questions are more important.”

But instead of asking any questions other words eagerly fly out of Johanna’s mouth, “I didn’t mean those things I said. When they brought you into my cell. And I just thought those were my last words to you for so long. I didn’t mean that.”

“Jo,” Virginia softly says and her knuckles brush against Johanna’s, it is so brief it could be accidental, but when Virginia wraps her pinky finger around Johanna’s it’s clearly intentional. “I knew that. It isn’t like I said great things either. But I don’t need you to apologize for something I already understood.”

Johanna just nods slowly and lets a part of herself that has been tensed up with guilt for nearly a year drift away.

“So you didn’t pop up for like so many months after the war because of a coma?” Johanna asks.

Virginia swallows and nods slightly, “I was septic and on the brink of death when rebels freed me and other prisoners. It happened about a day or two before the surrender.”

“Why were you, uh, septic?” Johanna cautiously asks.

“For about two weeks after your rescue is when they did the majority of my torture on me. After that, I became too low priority of a prisoner to matter since the Capitol had to begin preparing for whenever the rebels were going to invade. I was put back into custody but was rarely fed and because I was so starved, a lot of my injuries got worse,” Virginia answers mechanically.

“Did they like not know who you were after rescuing you?” Johanna asks. “The rebels?”

“No, they knew,” Virginia answers.

“Why did nobody fucking tell me?” Johanna blurts.

All she can think of is the unknown grief she suffered in, why would nobody tell Johanna?

“Well, it took a few weeks for Plutarch to track down what hospital I was in. Then,” Virginia’s voice cuts off completely when Johanna doesn’t just drop where their pinkies are linked but more so tosses Virginia’s hand out of her grasp.

The sole of Johanna’s boots sends tufts of dirt exploding from the ground as she pivots totally and turns to begin stomping back towards the house.

“Johanna, wait!” Virginia tries to reach for her, but Johanna shakes off her grip and storms faster to the house. And she may be an asshole, because she can tell how winded it makes Virginia and how exhausted she is just trying to keep up with Johanna.

“Jo, please,” Virginia wheezes from a few feet behind her as Johanna springs up the porch steps, skipping steps at a time.

“Johanna, wait!” Virginia calls behind her.

Nope.

She swings the door open with the force of the fiery rage Johanna carried into her second arena.

Johanna has been chasing down that slimy bastard for months. And he knew Virginia was alive and just let Johanna continue to suffer. The last months of her life she almost fucking relapsed and just almost got it over with and offed herself. Because Plutarch is a fucking liar.

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” Peeta’s voice rings out from the kitchen when Johanna stomps through the house.

“Johanna, is everything-“

She doesn’t hear Katniss’s whole sentence, tearing past them and out the back sliding door into the yard. Virginia catches up by the time Johanna emerges from the small shed where she stores her axe. Thankfully she has a pair of pants on with thick belt loops that she tucks the thing into.

It’s like she’s in an arena again.

And she is.

She’s going to kill the last stupid Head Gamemaker that ruined her.

Ruined her hope and life.

She barely looks at Virginia, brushing past her and stopping by the phone on the wall and panting.

Three sets of eyes are staring at her in bewilderment. Katniss and Peeta mainly look in confusion. She can see the distrust and cogs in Katniss’s mind that maybe Virginia is to blame.

Johanna yanks the phone off the hook and holds it in Katniss’s direction, “I need you to call Plutarch, now.”

“Johanna,” Virginia softly interrupts. “That’s not going to do any-“

“No,” Johanna barely glances at her to brush her off. She juts the phone out again in impatience. “Call him and give him any dumb fucking excuse to fly himself out here to District 12. Say you wrote a song, Peeta invented a new kind of bread, I don’t fucking care.”

“Why?” Katniss asks.

“I’m going to kill that fucking lying piece of shit,” Johanna is snarling, but slows at Virginia walking towards her and invading her space. It’s such an old comfort she thought was dead that the venom and adrenaline dies instantly in her throat.

Her hold on the phone is limp as Virginia eases it out of her grasp to hang up on the receiver.

Knuckles brush against her hip and all Johanna can do is stare at a ghost as Virginia easily pulls the axe out of Johanna’s belt. Peeta quietly walks over and takes the weapon as Virginia extends it to him.

Johanna tries to not let her legs give out from under her and an embarrassing wet sound rips out of her chest and/or throat.

Despite her new dangerously skinny and lanky form, Virginia is the only thing that keeps Johanna upright as a second wave of shock smashes into her.

“He told me he couldn’t find you and then kept avoiding me, he made me think-“ Johanna weakly sobs into Virginia’s shoulder. But she can’t control the emotions and it’s so embarrassing knowing other people are witnessing this. “So many times he made me think you were dead.”

Virginia whispers reassuringly. “I hate him for it too but killing him isn’t going to do anything. Can we sit and talk about it, please?”

Johanna just silently nods and ignores the looks of surprise from both teenagers seeing Johanna easily listen to Virginia and move to sit at the table.

She glares at the kitchen table and tries to force her eyes to dry and tamp down any other sobs.

“Dog, go work,” Katniss’s voice is the first one to ring out in the tense, silent kitchen.

It’s the command Johanna decided to use to signal to Dog when he needs to basically begin working and be a therapy animal for her. But Johanna couldn’t train it into him until she had other people to be able to instruct him for the command. It only took Dog like two days of Peeta and Katniss telling him this and it automatically makes him rush to Johanna’s side.

The sound of familiar panting and claws on the floor is what finally gets Johanna to look up. Her hands numbly move to pet him behind the ears.

“When did he make you think I was dead, Johanna?” Virginia asks as she gently sits in the seat beside Johanna.

Johanna laughs so emptily it makes Katniss flinch.

“What time? I was freshly rescued, and he praised your possible death because of your intelligence ranking,” Johanna spits it out with disgust. “Finnick is the only reason I didn’t blind the bastard.”

She laughs again, even emptier when naming her dead best friend.

“Or how I overheard him a few days later saying they confirmed you were alive and in custody, but they just decided to not tell me, because they didn’t want to get my hopes up or make me hard to handle. Because they said they couldn’t do a rescue operation, and they didn’t trust me to stay stable. The only person decent enough to tell me anything was Beetee.”

A pained silence rings out.

Johanna sighs, “After the war, before the assassination. I asked him if there were any updates on you. I called out him lying to me in District 13, but he said you were unaccounted for. All he could tell me was that most people associated with the games had already faced their tribunal or were about to, and you weren’t one of those people. And then he spent months dodging and avoiding me. What else was I supposed to think other than you were presumed…”

“Dead,” Virginia finishes quietly. “I know he sucks, he was one of the main people to recruit me, so I get it. But I understand the reason he lied to you after the war.”

“And what possible good reason could that be?” Johanna accusatorily asks. “He knew I had nothing.”

“Do you guys want to be alone?” Peeta softly asks after a beat passes.

Johanna is just exhausted and shrugs, “It’s your shit, Vee. Up to you.”

Virginia looks over at Katniss and Peeta shooting them her nervous, charming smile, “Um, you don’t need to leave. I mean if you guys are being so kind to let me stay here, you deserve to know. It’s your house, it’s just, uh,” she trails off and grabs at the back of her neck.

“Horribly traumatizing so if you’re feeling like Annie Cresta you may want to sit it out,” Johanna supplements knowingly.

The looks Virginia gives her, a fond faux-scolding expression is still so surreal to see again.

“I wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but you aren’t wrong,” Virginia nods.

Johanna tries not to look directly at Katniss because that is who this message is for. But neither teen moves.

“For starters, when the rebels freed me I was in really bad shape. They weren’t sure if I’d survive and I was in a coma for like over two months. But his main reason for lying,” Virginia sighs and stares at the table and a detached expressionless look covers her face, “Coin’s War Tribunal was desperate to find any infringement to execute me on,” she answers easily as if someone asked her about the weather.

“Yet Effie Trinket was spared easily? As if she did more for the rebellion effort than you?” Johanna scoffs.

“Johanna, who do you think were the people who set up so much of the program for my training? District 13,” Virginia says. “I didn’t know about Thirteen until I graduated, but they had a huge role as silent benefactor and made most of that curriculum, they were the ones who made me do the-“

“Torture simulator like a fucked up vaccine,” Johanna supplements when Virginia trails off.

“A what?” Katniss pipes up in shock.

“It is exactly what it sounds like,” Johanna dismisses over her shoulder without looking away from Virginia.

“I was horribly tough to recruit and was probably a mouthier brat at ten than you ever have been,” Virginia begins.

“Okay, unnecessary,” Johanna mutters with a smirk.

Virginia laughs softly, “I wasn’t smart enough to filter myself from saying certain things at ten. I called the people recruiting me sick killers that were no better than the Capitol since they were using my dying sister’s life as some betting chip. I excelled in the training and did my job well, but I was always too much of a free thinker to them. Especially when the war ended in a coup with Thirteen trying to outright replace the government with their own.”

“So they wanted to silence you so their dirty secrets couldn’t get out,” Johanna says.

Virginia nods.

“Okay, and Plutarch was just assuming you’d be executed and that’s why he wouldn’t tell me anything?” Johanna asks.

Virginia waves a hand, “Kind of. Yes, part of it was he didn’t think I’d survive it with both the coma and tribunal.”

“And you still had to face a tribunal after that bitch died?” Johanna growls.

Virginia looks at Johanna like she just asked the dumbest question on earth, “Obviously, that’s where I was after my three months in the hospital. Government red tape of being in custody and awaiting trial. I had no way of contacting you.”

“Katniss, get ready to shoot another president,” Johanna huffs. “Turns out we are three for three on shitty-“

Virginia lays a hand on top of one of Johanna’s tight fists, “President Paylor couldn’t just immediately stop everything Coin had in motion. Especially about how she was prosecuting those associated with the games, she really wedged her people in there. It took so long for me to face trial because Paylor had to keep finding ways to push it back until she could appoint more officials that weren’t those Thirteen drones.”

“But Plutarch should’ve told me.”

“I know he should have,” Virginia agrees. “But unfortunately, he is the main reason I’m still alive, he was the one who flagged my file for Paylor to even know to put in so much effort to keep pushing it back.”

“But what is his good reason then? For not telling me? False hope, because that is a copout,” Johanna huffs.

“Because of my status as a spy and my intelligence ranking, everything on me was highly confidential. Your doctors weren’t allowed to know my status. Plutarch wasn’t even allowed to visit me while I was in a coma or recovery. He could barely contact me after that while I was awaiting trial, and even then, it was mostly about legal stuff. I bugged him at any chance I could about reaching out to you. I think you and me both had almost annoyed him into oblivion about wanting to contact each other.”

“So he just decided to go with avoiding me because of that?” Johanna huffs.

“The way he put it is his patience was wearing thing with both of us and if he heard you bugging about me again, he probably would’ve lost his temper and told you in the worst way possible. And that’s coming from Plutarch, so I can’t even imagine how bad it’d be,” Virginia explains. “I am pissed too, but Plutarch sucks. This isn’t new.”

“It may also help to try to not think about how Plutarch thinks,” Peeta pipes up as he pulls out some rolls from the oven. “That’s at least what Dr. Aurelius suggested to me.”

“It’s a good point,” Virginia says. She covers Johanna’s hands with both her own, “And he’s the one who told me where you were and how to find you. That’s all that really mattered to me after I was ruled innocent two days ago.”

“Two days ago? Did you come directly here?” Katniss asks.

“Yeah, I bought a few things. But apparently my apartment was torn apart by the Capitol, so I didn’t have to waste time packing.”

“Oh, uh hey, same-ish here.” Johanna awkwardly grumbles. “I was in the same boat too, in District 13.”

Johanna’s stiff attempt at reassurance makes Peeta let out a small chuckle.

“Except for the belongings you retained from burying them in the woods like a mole person before the Quell,” Virginia teases.

Johanna smirks, “It paid off, didn’t it?”

“It did,” Virginia says with a smile.

---

After Peeta finished cooking breakfast, the pair split off on the back porch to eat it.

“Happy hunting, Katniss,” Johanna bids her goodbye over her shoulder as she waves to her while she is heading out the front door.

She turns back to the counter, plucks the coffee pot and pours two mugs. Johanna then opens and closes her palms while looking through a mess of flour, cooling baked goods, and bowls of ingredients.

“What are you looking for?”

“Sugar and milk,” Johanna automatically answers, “And does the ice tray have any ice cubes left?”

Peeta side eyes her and fights off knowing look, “Since when do you put that in your coffee. I thought you liked your coffee as dark as your sunny outlook on life.”

“It’s how Virginia would take it, don’t worry I’m still cranky ol’ me,” Johanna mutters. She spins past him easily in the crowded space and plucks some ice cubes to throw in a glass.

“What’s the point of the ice?” Peeta asks.

Johanna shrugs and rolls her eyes dismissively as she gathers the cups and ingredients on a tray, “Ugh, she drinks her coffee cold. It is some Capitol thing.”

“All that effort but you won’t just make the drink for her,” Peeta teases, because he knows how lame Johanna will sound with her answer.

“She is very specific,” Johanna mumbles because the rest of the truth follows it, “Also, I don’t even know what she can handle. I mean, you remember being that…”

Underweight.

A post torture body meant being weaned onto food like one would wean off morphling.

“Yeah, makes sense.”

Peeta just nods and gives Johanna a broad knowing smile, she props the tray on her hip to point a threatening finger at him, “Shut up, not a word. I’m not above shoving your head in a toilet or something.”

He holds up his hands in defense with a chuckle, “Let me know if you guys need anything, okay?”

Johanna hums and begins to head for the door.

“It’s good to see you so happy, Johanna,” Peeta says after her.

Johanna rolls her eyes and scoffs to ignore how much those words hit when she sees Virginia through the window. She is sitting on the back porch in a tiny love seat, throwing the ball for Dog.

“I said shut up,” she mutters with a chuckle.

She can still hear Peeta’s boisterous laughter at her until the door latches shut behind her.

“I know you’re a woman who knows what she wants and didn’t want to fuck up your ice, sugar, and milk ratio,” Johanna dismissively announces when all Virginia does is just stare at the tray in Johanna’s hands. Golden hazel eyes reflect the sunrise with her shimmering tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

And great, Johanna fucked this up somehow.

She sets the tray down and tentatively sits on the opposite side of the couch. Johanna reaches out for her own coffee mug and her occasional tremors seem to be especially bad today while she reaches for the thing.

Johanna holds the mug to her lips and takes a long sip while trying not to stare at Virginia. She instead watches Dog who is racing up the steps with his yellow ball in his mouth. Johanna commands him to lay down.

“Okay,” Johanna brashly announces after the silence becomes too much. “Did I do something wrong already?”

“What?” Virginia says in disbelief, “No. S-sorry. I just haven’t had coffee since before the war. And I don’t know, I thought about you like so much in prison. Like thinking about our plans if we both survived knowing you survived the arena and were rescued kept me going. But it was so easy to get in my head and I knew you were out living and thinking I was dead. I was worried I wouldn’t, uh, mean as much.”

Virginia tapers off and scratches at the back of her neck, “Fuck, I’m not shutting up, am I?”

“You’re not,” Johanna says with a smirk. She sets her mug down and shifts to face Virginia a bit more. “It’s cute. I missed it so much.”

Virginia is almost shy in how she looks at Johanna from the corner of her eye, repeatedly flitting her gaze a few times before turning to look at Johanna directly. Her cheekbones look especially prominent from how hollow her cheeks are, but they are dusted with a pretty blush caused by Johanna.

“I missed you too,” Virginia whispers.

Johanna’s eyes magnetically drift down to Virginia’s mouth. The urge to kiss her is overwhelming, but like that mission a couple years ago, something is stopping her. Maybe it’s because there is no timer over their head. There is no need to rush and maybe they both feel some need to tell each other all their stuff from the last year.

But Johanna is only human and only has so much restraint. She drifts in to barely press a kiss against Virginia’s cheek. Warm skin is intoxicating beneath her lips. She can feel how Virginia’s cheeks twitch into a sweet, dumb smile as she leans into the touch. It has Johanna pulling herself away because of a smirk on her own face, but she keeps her eyes shut to just press her forehead against Virginia’s like yesterday.

It feels like the freshest and easiest breaths she’s taken as they both unevenly breathe each other in. A hand on the back of Johanna’s neck gives a slight comforting squeeze that nearly makes her melt down into her seat.

“Let’s eat before all this tasty food gets cold,” Virginia murmurs.

“Good idea,” Johanna agrees and pulls away. She blinks her eyes open and pointedly glares down into her plate that pulls into her lap. She can’t quite look at Virginia after that beat, it was too comforting that she needs a breath.

“I imagine this is the first good food you’ve eaten,” Johanna mutters.

Virginia sighs. “I honestly thought about so much food, so much.”

“What the fuck? What happened to thinking about me so much?” Johanna teases while bumping her shoulder into Virginia’s.

“Shut up,” she chuckles and bumps her shoulder back into Johanna’s.

---

“Want to take him for a walk with me?” Johanna asks Virginia. After finishing their breakfast, Johanna had to go to the phones to have her daily appointment with Dr. Minerva. Due to recent changes in her life, the appointment obviously ran way over the allotted time slot.

Dog, who was sleeping and curling into Virginia’s side, opens his eyes and his ears perk up at one of his favorite words.

“Dog, leash,” she commands.

“No way,” Virginia chuckles when an excited Dog jumps off the seat and rushes in the house through the open door.

Johanna smirks, “He’s a quick learner. Trick training him is apparently good for both him and me.”

Dog trots back out with the leash handle in his mouth and the attached harness dragging behind him, Johanna snags it up and pulls his harness on. She looks at Virginia expectantly, “Did you want to join us?”

Virginia begins to nod and swallows thickly, “Um, I do want to. How long would it be though?”

“It can be short,” Johanna replies, much gentler. She remembers what it was like when walking down a hallway felt like climbing a mountain.

“I think I could probably do half a mile,” Virginia quietly states after they walk out the gates of Victors Village.

Johanna swiftly snags up Virginia’s hand and offers a reassuring squeeze. Virginia is someone who was incredibly strong, even on a natural level based on those wonderful shoulders alone. And she knows how hard it is for Virginia to admit something like that.

“You know, when Katniss and I started training in Thirteen, they put us in a class of fourteen-year-olds,” Johanna offers and smirks. “They were all way better than us for a solid week.”

Virginia relaxes a bit and shifts her hand to lace her fingers through Johanna’s, “You guys got in shape that fast?”

“Well I was about done going through withdrawal by then and Katniss got some medical treatment on her ribs.”

“Johanna Mason, I think you’re the only person stubborn enough to do military drills while actively in withdrawal,” Virginia says warmly and bumps her shoulder into Johanna’s. She peaks over at Johanna and turns her attention to sending a loose piece of gravel skittering along the ground, “I’m having a lot of problems putting weight back on, they said it will take a bit.”

“Was that…” Johanna trails off and shakes her head.

“You can just ask me whatever you want,” Virginia tries to casually say.

“Was it mainly starvation? That caused some of your-“

“My more permanent injuries?” Virginia asks and laughs in a disconnected and self-deprecating way, “The fingers – yes, they didn't cut those off, broke a few of my fingers when interrogating me. Bent these two sideways, and the things were almost atrophied off by the time I was rescued.”

A heaviness hangs over them and Johanna knowingly slows down when she can hear Virginia trying to not huff in each breath.

“The ear was a Capitol torture job then?” Johanna offers with a brash, joking smile.

Thankfully Virginia still finds something like this funny and she nods, “Yeah. Some symbolic torture shit about how I should’ve had my ear to the ground and noticed people were rebels or something. Their logic was also if I ended up being a loyalist I could get cosmetic surgery for it after or something. Whatever, jokes on them it just made it easier to tune them out.”

But like a wave returning into the sea, they are engulfed in silence again. It isn’t like this catching up is fun right now. Both were tortured that’s a lot different than asking how someone’s week was.

“Those scars on your back,” Virginia awkwardly begins.

“Whip wounds,” Johanna dismissively mumbles, “Punishment for putting my hand in my pocket during a propo they forced me to film.”

“When I saw you,” Virginia’s eyes almost get lost as she murmurs it, “You looked –“

“Like shit, I know,” Johanna chuckles.

“Like you were in unspeakable pain.” Virginia states, “Like I think you were tortured way worse than me, mine was just kind of a lot of superficial stuff for a few weeks and then being abandoned to starve.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“I know, I just wanted to say you can tell me whatever they did like at your own pace and stuff,” Virginia softly mutters. “It’s going to be way heavier. Mine is your more classic torture stuff.”

Johanna tries not to look at Virginia and grumbles like an old man before admitting, “Yeah, main thing you should know of now is they recreated that arena trap on me, real cute of them. Soaked me with water and-“

“Shocked you,” Virginia breathes out painfully and comes to a dead stop.

Suddenly Johanna is being yanked into a hug, she presses her cheek against a rapid heartbeat. She remembers how electrocution was the thing Virginia struggled with most on the torture simulator.

“That had to have been so awful,” Virginia whispers against the bandana on Johanna’s skull. Her lips brush against Johanna’s hairline and pink fabric. “That’s why your signature look includes a little bandana, right?”

“Yeah, showering is fucking,” Johanna sighs. “Hard. It’s gotten a bit better but, yeah I get a little greasy. I’m working on it.”

Virginia pulls back and distractedly picks at the garment, “You really pull it off though.”

Johanna tosses her head back and chuckles, “I pull everything off.”

“You really do.”

The flaming heat that rises in her cheeks is most definitely due to this hot day, no other reason. Johanna avoids Virginia’s eyes and nods in the direction of Victors Village, “Let’s head back, yeah?”

They share a contagious grin and finish the last leg of their short walk at the slow pace they both need.

Notes:

I hope the overdue reunion did the pair some justice! Please let me know what you think of all the reveals about what Virginia endured and why she took so long to pop back up :)

A huge thanks for reading as always, i love hearing what y'all think. The comments/kudos/bookmarks truly keep me going!

Up next in Chapter 16: The psychological effects of Virginia's trauma further reveals itself, and Johanna has to learn how to have a person in her life again as they grow back together.

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Summary:

Johanna and Virginia navigate the awkwardness around healing together.

TW: PTSD, panic attack, mentions of past torture and mutilation.

Johanna glares at the door that feels like it is lurking over her.

“Did you want help?” Virginia softly asks, as if it isn’t a question someone would usually ask a toddler.

Johanna huffs and looks down to her watch, “I need to wait five more minutes.”

“Is that you pushing it off?”

“No, brat,” Johanna scoffs. “Dr. Aurelius said to take my pills a half hour before showering, and it’s only been twenty-five minutes.”

She sighs, shutting her eyes and forcing herself to take a breath before quietly adding, “And I don’t know if I want you to see me like that.”

A bony shoulder lightly bumps hers, automatically making a warmth swirl in Johanna’s stomach. She wipes at her nose to attempt to hide the idiotic looking smile that tugs on her mouth just at the sound of Virginia laughing.

“I’ve seen you naked before, Johanna,” she offers with a chuckle.

“Obviously I know that,” she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “It’s fucking embarrassing. This isn’t like when Jack died, I don’t need you to help me like I’m some catatonic husk.”

“Jo,” Virginia whispers gently, “I know it isn’t like that.”

“Yeah, it’s nowhere near as bad as that. And I’m not so fucking pathetic that I need you to help me like you did then.”

“You weren’t pathetic then and you aren’t now.”

Johanna sighs and crosses her arms, “I’m being a massive bitch right now. Why are you being so patient?”

“I’m always patient with you,” Virginia offers easily. “And after what you told me this morning, I’m not going to fault you for this. The Capitol practically conditioned you to turn into a massive bitch from water.”

“Well at least you admit it,” Johanna mumbles with a small smirk.

Virginia reaches her hand out and sets it within inches of Johanna’s thigh. She automatically lets her opening and closing palm fall into Virginia’s. Johanna releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding when a soft squeeze is delivered.

“I don’t even think you’re being a bitch,” Virginia offers. “I just am saying that of course water will be hard, let me try to help you make it easier.”

“I don’t need you to,” Johanna weakly dismisses as her eyes magnetically return to the ominous bathroom door. “I have been doing it on my own for like almost a year now. I have gotten way better than I used to be. It’s just sometimes I need to push it off to the next day. And today feels like that.”

“That’s fine too.”

“But I feel gross,” Johanna continues immediately. “I can’t imagine you want to share a bed when I am greasy and smell.”

“You don’t smell.”

She drops the hand in her grasp and throws her head back to groan in irritation, “Don’t placate me.”

“I rotted in cells for the better part of a year; I am very familiar with gross and smelly. I will absolutely tell you when you smell,” she offers, sincerely. Her voice uneven at the subject.

And for some reason, this helps batter down the flimsy walls Johanna was trying to draw in around herself. Maybe because she knows Virginia means it but not in any mean way. But also, because Johanna would have to be blind to notice the hyper-cleanliness Virginia has been exhibiting in the last twenty-four hours since she popped up alive on Johanna’s – well more like Katniss and Peeta’s – doorstep.

“That’s why you wash your hands so much?” Johanna automatically surmises.

“Yeah, amongst other things.”

“Glad torture made you cleaner and me just more disgusting and grimier,” Johanna says flatly. “How compatible of us.”

“Alright enough of your self-pitying, go take your shower. I can help you in any way you need.”

“I know, and, ugh, it sounds like,” Johanna pinches the bridge of her nose to force out the embarrassing truth, “I know you being there would help. Things always tend to improve with you around-“

“Aw, I’m loving this new thing where you keep saying random sweet shit like that offhandedly,” Virginia interrupts.

It makes Johanna look over to glare at her through her lashes, but she softens at the goofy smile being sent her way. And the blush on Virginia’s cheeks makes something about all of this a little easier.

“Ugh, fuck, whatever!” Johanna exclaims and jumps to her feet; she holds out her hand to help Virginia up. “Let’s go and get this over with.”

Johanna keeps a grip on Virginia and leads her into the bathroom. She slams the door shut behind them with more force than necessary.

“Uh huh, and what do you want me to do?”

Her nervousness makes it hard to breathe or swallow. Johanna thinks having Virginia shower with her in anyway is way too much right now. “Can you just sit by the shower while I’m in there?”

“Yeah, I can stick an arm in there for moral support too,” Virginia says warmly. It could be something sarcastic, but the genuine offer is obvious on her face. Johanna lets out a soft chuckle, and Virginia grabs Johanna’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly before moving over to sit on the shut toilet seat.

Johanna remains standing awkwardly as Virginia sits there. She feels so bare and has no desire to let her naked body be seen when she is a shivering mess at the idea of a shower. Johanna tries to look bold and normal as she walks over and yanks the shower curtain open and steps into the tub, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

“Uh Jo, you just got in the shower with your clothes on.”

Well, that sounds awkward when it’s verbalized.

“The water isn’t on, it isn’t weird. I’m just taking my clothes off in here,” Johanna defends, but she doesn’t make any move to shrug out of her shirt.

Virginia’s chuckle echoes on the tiles, “You could’ve told me to just cover my eyes or look away instead of walking into the shower to change.”

Johanna yanks the curtain open again, Virginia’s eyes widen, and she has a smile on her face like she’s fighting off laughing more at how dramatic Johanna is being.

“Fine, close your eyes then,” Johanna instructs as she steps out of the tub. She waits until Virginia closes her eyes and holds a hand in front of them for good effect. “I know it’s weird, like you’ve seen it all before, it’s just,” Johanna pauses, she doesn’t want to admit the sheer vulnerability she has around showering like this. So, she settles on a half-truth, “My body looks so different now.”

“I understand,” Virginia responds. “I feel the same way – nervous about you seeing how different I look. I mean, I’m technically maimed now.”

“Wow, torture brag,” Johanna drawls.

Twin barks of laughter tear out of both of them at Johanna’s dumb joke. It helps her feel comfortable enough to pull her top off and shrug her shorts and underwear off. Stepping back into the tub with the sound of Virginia’s laughter makes it a little less taxing.

“You can open your eyes now,” Johanna calls out.

As she begins her pained routine of gritting her way through a shower, her eyes stay locked on Virginia’s hand that dangles for support at the other end. It draws some of her attention away from the pins and needles of water all over her body.

The sounds of the water hitting tile is usually like nails on a chalkboard, but it is easier to stomach when Virginia begins singing random songs. Quite badly.

It’s the easiest shower she’s taken in months.

---

As the sun begins its descent, Johanna reclines on the top steps of the porch. She launches the ball, arcing high up in the air and Dog races off after it.

Johanna dips her hand in the breast pocket of her flannel to pull out a lighter and a weedling joint.  

It’s her first real moment alone today. She never thought she’d seek out time alone but today has been heavy.

Virginia being back is, of course, worth how difficult it is, but Johanna wishes she could fast forward to a time when they both have caught each other up on everything. That way they both won’t have to be tiptoeing and talking of the worst moments of their lives.

The front door creaks open after Johanna launches the ball for Dog again. She doesn’t look up, it isn’t loud as shit or dead silent, so it immediately rules out Peeta and Katniss. And it seems she’s even memorized the sounds of Virginia’s steps.

“Care if I join you?” Virginia asks, motioning at the top step against the parallel railing from where Johanna is lounging.

“As long as you aren’t too stuffy to smoke with me.”

“When have I ever been too stuffy for that?” Virginia breezily offers with an easy smile.

She gracefully plops down, and they’re sitting close, but not too close. There’s about five feet of space between them, but Johanna feels some hunger at wanting to scoot closer.

“Ladies first,” Johanna says with a smirk as she hands over the joint and lighter.

“I’m prescribed this too, by my own doctors so I can share my next one with you,” she casually says as the joint rests between her lips.

Virginia is distracted trying to get the lighter to catch, but Johanna’s focus is entirely on her. Her breathing becomes a bit uneven when a small plume of smoke puffs out past full lips while the sunset is highlighting all of Virginia’s other features. Her heartbeat thunders against her ribs and warm, tingling heat spread through her bloodstream. Like it’s a high of its own just to look at her.

Johanna finds that the drug does nothing to dull the very lame romantic thoughts plaguing her.

After Virginia takes another hit, she lets out a relaxed sigh. “You know, my favorite moments of all the dumb Hunger Games parties were being able to step out and be with you like this. Just alone, quiet, and smoking together.”

As Virginia finishes her thought she looks over and catches Johanna staring at her. Johanna feels such an overwhelming influx of something she’s too emotionally constipated to name that she blurts out, “Yeah, well, pretty much all my favorite parts of the Capitol involved you.”

She huffs at herself immediately after that sappy statement. Johanna’s cheeks redden, but she thinks Virginia may be beating her in blushing right now.

“You’re getting awfully sentimental, Jo.” Virginia teases. “Do it again, I love it.”

“Shut up,” Johanna grumbles and snags the joint back from Virginia’s grasp. She takes another hit and then stubs the remaining half out. “I’m done sharing, brat.”

An exhausted Dog plops down at Johanna’s side on the porch, and she uses her free hand to pet at his side. The softness of the puppy’s coat under her fingertips helps ground her. Dog, always seeming to understand Johanna, rolls over onto his back offering his belly with a dorky expression.

“You really named him Dog?” Virginia asks.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“He deserves a real name, don’t you think?”

“Then you name him, I don’t care.” Johanna grumbles stubbornly.

Virginia rolls her eyes, “Johanna, why?”

“You know why,” Johanna is defeated in how she ends up mumbling her answer. “Naming him makes it real, it means there’s someone in my life who cares about me.”

“You deserve to be cared about,” Virginia murmurs.

“Yeah, well when I got Dog, I thought you were long dead and decomposing,” Johanna impatiently spits out.

She can feel the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes, so she forces herself to stare only at Dog and take a sip of water before continuing, “After the war, I was genuinely alone, and my purpose of defeating Snow was complete. I almost relapsed when they sent me to Six. When I went to Ten it was like I finally lost so much fuel to my anger…” she trails off and shakes her head.

“It wasn’t until I met those stupid fucking puppies that I had something good to look forward to. And this stupid runt,” she clears her throat at how soft her voice sounds while she keeps staring at Dog, “he clung onto me immediately, like he saw how broken I was and how much I needed him. And for some reason, he needed me too. It sounds so stupid and lame, I know. But it felt like he saved me, helped give me purpose. Naming him means…“

“It means you can lose him,” Virginia fills in when Johanna stops speaking.

Johanna immediately wipes at the wetness spreading down her cheeks, and she is too embarrassed to look at Virginia right now. She intensely stares at the puppy drifting off to sleep. As if he can feel her staring, Dog blinks big brown eyes open to quickly lick Johanna’s hand before going back to sleep.

“I know it feels impossible to believe after they took everything from you,” Virginia cautiously says after giving Johanna a few moments to stare numbly at Dog. “But they can’t take him away from you. Not anymore.”

“And what about you?” the question slips out of Johanna’s mouth.

“Nobody is going to take me away from you. Not ever again,” Virginia states earnestly. Johanna focuses on Dog to avoid the soft, meaningful gaze being sent her way. “That is if you and Dog want to keep me around.”

It makes Johanna’s eyes snap away from the animal and look at her. Hazel eyes are wet with tears. And Johanna is a bit baffled; she drops one hand down on the step within centimeters of Virginia’s.

“You know my answer to that.”

“So, it’s still a yes?” Virginia asks, a bit hopefully. Her pinky inches out and latches around Johanna’s. “Just want to make sure you haven’t changed your mind since last night.”

“It will always be a yes,” she easily responds. “I don’t think I’ll ever change my mind about you.”

She’s not sure where those words come from.

Maybe it’s the weedling, or maybe it’s the rawness of the past day. But it’s embarrassing, the way her mouth just keeps spilling things she doesn’t always know how to say—things she’s never had the comfort or safety to admit.

But for Virginia, she doesn’t know how to keep those walls anymore.

And maybe that’s okay.

---

The degree of damage Virginia endured finally reveals itself the next day. So far, she’s been so much like her old self, level-headed, steady, sarcastic, and empathetic.

And Johanna was expecting that eventually Virginia would show some of the lingering effects of how everything affected her mentally, but she really wasn’t expecting anything like this.

They’re cuddling in bed, Johanna giving stories of rooming with Katniss, time with the puppies in Ten, and Finnick’s wedding. She absentmindedly fiddles with the strings on Virginia’s sweatshirt while not shutting up. It’s easy to want to keep talking with the warmth of Virginia’s arm wrapped around her.

And her fingers randomly drift to the side of Virginia’s ribs that she always would touch and trace. It is almost as if it is muscle memory. The touch of it alone reminds her of the first time Virginia showed it to her on their mission cutting down trees before the attempted uprising.

Her fingertips barely register the uneven awful bubbling flesh beneath the shirt by the time Virginia has practically launched herself up and away from Johanna. She nearly elbows Johanna in the head from how messily and rapidly she moves. Virginia almost falls off the bed and curls in on herself.

Johanna isn’t being a dick when she’d describe it as Virginia going full on Annie Cresta, because honestly it’s the most accurate description.

Virginia’s loud mix of screaming, crying, and wheezing as she yanks on her own hair makes Johanna scramble a bit. It’s not like she loves loud sounds like this, it makes her remember how much Annie cried herself to sleep after Finnick died.

“Vee, I’m sorry,” Johanna rushes to crouch in front of her. “Hey, can you look at me?”

Virginia shakes her head rapidly, tears dripping into her lap. She moves her hands so she can hug herself. She’s so thin and lanky it looks like she could wrap her arms around herself twice.

It’s the most irretrievable she’s ever seen Virginia and Johanna is genuinely out of her depth. This makes the time Virginia punched herself in the skull after the Quell announcement seem like a cake walk.

“Fuck, I’m going to go get Dog,” Johanna scrambles, regretting letting Katniss borrow him again for hunting.

She swings the door open and begins to race downstairs and she almost runs right into Peeta.

He is barreling up the steps with a tray of ice cubes in hand and concern about the screaming visible on his face

“I-“ she begins. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Dr. Aurelius gave me this trick, putting an ice cube in your hand helps shock your nervous system back from panic,” Peeta explains.

“Yeah, that makes sense why he never would recommend that to me,” Johanna grumbles. She begins to reach out but instinctively she yanks her arms back when she can feel the cold, wet air coming off the tray, “Do you think it will help her?”

“Can’t hurt.”

Suck it up.

She flexes her fingers and tries to grab the tray again but reacts like she’s touched a hot stove.

“I can hand them to her,” Peeta gently offers and rushes past her.

And Johanna feels like such a piece of garbage as Peeta manages to help Virginia despite being near total strangers. Yet Johanna is too dumb and weak to help.

Because when Peeta places ice cubes in Virginia’s fists and gently talks to her, the sobbing begins to slow.

“Thanks, Peeta,” Johanna stiffly says as she shuffles over to sit beside Virginia. “Hey, Vee. Are you with me?”

She nods and rocks a bit.

“What can I do?” Johanna asks. She turns to Peeta, “Is Katniss back with Dog yet?”

He shakes his head, “Hey, Virginia. It’s Peeta. Johanna’s safe and right here too.”

“S-sorry,” Virginia stutters out.

“No, don’t be stupid,” Johanna says.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Peeta reassures. “Can either of us do anything to help?”

Virginia grits out unevenly, “Just need J-Jo.”

Virginia was a spy for most of her life, it makes sense that she wouldn’t want someone seeing her like this besides Johanna who knows her so well.

But Peeta was able to help when Johanna just sat there like an idiot. She still gives him a nod when he gets up to leave, like she can somehow handle this. Like she isn’t way out of her depth.

“He left the ice cubes on the bedside table if you need more,” Johanna mutters after Peeta shuts the door softly behind himself. She pushes to her feet, her eyes glued on the melted rivulets of water dripping down Virginia’s forearms and onto the bed. “I’m getting a towel.”

Returning with the towel, Johanna just does what makes sense to keep herself from joining Virginia in this breakdown. She wipes Virginia’s arms dry and the blanket but still avoids sitting back down, instead kneeling on the ground.

Virginia still hasn’t looked up; her loud panicked sobs and wheezes are now just a steady small stream of whimpering tears.

“I’ve got you,” Johanna says, even if it feels like a lie right now. “Can you look at me?”

Virginia shakes her head, and it knocks another huge sob loose.

“Okay, just, um, breathe with me,” Johanna scrambles and instructs. She pries one of the hands that is clawing into Virginia’s sweatshirt and sets it against her own chest, above her heart. “Okay, feel how I’m breathing? Just try to do it with me.”

It takes several minutes, but slowly Johanna is able to coax Virginia out of it. When she finally looks up at Johanna, her eyes are bloodshot and out of focus. The towel in Virginia’s lap has about half a dozen melted ice cubes littered on it.

Through the entire thing, Johanna’s fingertips burn in memory of what caused such a visceral reaction. Johanna doesn’t have to see the scar to know what she felt when expecting familiar skin and not accounting for how deeply the Capitol’s cruelty permanently altered Virginia.

“T-they bran-“ Virginia begins and breaks into blubbering sobs, and she is close to careening on something irretrievable again.

Johanna just nods in full understanding, she grips both of Virginia’s forearms gently, “I know, I know.”

The tattoo with her sister’s name has been branded off.

She can’t even begin to comprehend how many rounds of branding it must take to burn the ink off.

“I’m sorry I touched it,” Johanna adds.

“You didn’t know.” Virginia shakes her head rapidly, “Sorry I lost it. I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Johanna insists. She ducks her head down to keep Virginia’s eyes locked on hers, “Is my favorite tattoo still intact at least?”

The sarcastic joke makes Virginia let out a wet snort and she nods. And then Virginia is yanking Johanna in and holding her tightly. It presses Johanna’s cheek against her chest, and she can hear how uneven and rapid Virginia’s heartbeat is.

“The ass it’s tattooed on is what unfortunately looks awful now,” Virginia bleakly mumbles.

This pisses Johanna off and she pulls away to glare up at her, “Shut up, I know your ass still looks fantastic.”

Virginia gives her a tiny smile like she doesn’t quite believe her.

“Trust me, I’ve checked it out a bunch since you’ve been here,” Johanna continues with teasing warmth as she reaches up to cup Virginia’s cheek to wipe away at her tears. Her own sigh of relief almost slips out from the way Virginia’s eyes flutter shut while she sinks into the touch with a small smile tugging on her mouth.

It’s the first time Johanna realizes that both of them have a very long journey ahead. Johanna isn’t the only broken one here, and it seems like the way they are each broken is good for each other, even if that is fucking terrifying to admit.

---

It is later that night as they both lie down next to each other, not touching but so close, that Virginia mentions something else to acknowledge it.

“My body just looks so,” Virginia pauses and winces as she presses her palms into her eyes. “Unrecognizable now. I don’t even…“

“I get it,” Johanna offers when Virginia’s words taper off.

She sits up slowly and absentmindedly runs her fingers through her hair. Her fingertips press into the scars and spots where hair can’t grow back. Continuously doing it until most of her hair just sticks up in every which way.

The Capitol took Johanna’s hair from her in many ways – the first time they sold her she chopped it off from the memories of grimy hands in her hair and she was punished for it, they shaved her head to better torture her, and then they damaged her basic ability to even wash said hair after it grew back.

In the months since the war, her hair has slowly been able to grow. It is longer than it was during the Quell, becoming a shaggy mess that doesn’t even go past her chin. But it feels somewhat powerful, like she is gaining back a fraction of herself that they took and destroyed.

It makes her chest hurt as she glances over at Virginia who is slowly sitting up to lay a hand on Johanna’s back. Because for most Capitol beauty trends being shallow and garish, Virginia used her tattoos to express herself in a life where she was never able to. A life where both sides tried to take away her individuality.

The idea that the most prominent tattoo Virginia had to remember her sister, the most important person she’s ever lost, was burned off as torture is so much crueler and personal than Johanna can even stomach to see. She painfully wonders if any of Virginia’s other tattoos had been burned off too, it isn’t like she’s worn much besides long sleeves and pants.

What other parts of her did they take?

And how does Johanna even begin to be there for her when it feels gutting and personal for herself to just see what Virginia endured?

“I hate that they took that from you,” Johanna breathes out, her teeth are gritted. She can’t even tell if it is rage or pain tinging her words. Maybe it’s both. “Those parts of you.”

“They did the same to you,” Virginia quietly says.

“Maybe, but it’s different,” she huffs, and glances over her shoulder. “They took expressive, personal parts of you. It’s so fucking-“

And an unexpected wet hiccup rips out of Johanna’s chest. Her hands automatically cover her mouth to smother a pathetic sob about Virginia’s trauma. It makes Johanna so pissed at herself, because she shouldn’t be crying about Virginia’s stuff in front of her.

The sheets rustle and the bed shifts a bit as Virginia sits up and scoots closer. She slouches forward so she can rest her chin on Johanna’s shoulder, an arm wraps tightly around Johanna’s waist from behind. It embarrassingly frees another sound from Johanna’s mouth that doesn’t get silenced by her hand.

“I know,” Virginia whispers. “Thank you.”

Johanna glares from the side of her eye, “What is there to thank me for? They practically did that to you, because of me. And Blight and Ashford.”

“It was the Capitol’s fault for what they did to me, not anyone else,” she counters. “It was smart torture on their part, knowing it was a tattoo for my little sister who died so young would usually be enough to get any Capitol escort to break or make false admissions. It just made me… so fucking angry.”

“Anger is powerful,” Johanna says sardonically with an empty chuckle.

“I learned that from you,” Virginia says, digging her chin into Johanna’s shoulder.

“You were plenty angry about stuff before me,” she dismissively teases.

Virginia turns towards Johanna and presses her forehead against Johanna’s temple, “I was. But I stayed alive in there, I never broke or gave up, because of you.”

“No, you didn’t break because they trained you that way.”

“Maybe, but I never lost myself because I thought of you. How I needed to find you, so you knew I was alive,” Virginia says. “But I don’t know, I think that’s why I reacted so crazy today. It was the first time I had you with me and the grief of it was able to hit.”

“I wasn’t much help.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Did they-“ Johanna cuts herself off and sighs, absentmindedly letting her hands settle on Virginia’s forearm wrapped around her. “Did they do that with any of your other tattoos?”

The way Virginia’s body stiffens almost makes the bed jolt and she pulls her forehead away from Johanna temple, “Yeah, uh, hold on.”

Johanna is suddenly so cold at the absence of Virginia as she climbs out of the bed. But the room is quickly engulfed in the light from the lamp on Virginia’s bedside. It takes a moment for Johanna to blink the spots out of her eyes, but she almost bugs her eyes out of her head when Virginia begins to pull her sweatpants down.

“Too rebellious,” Virginia gently explains as she pulls the waistband to her knees to show the scar of what used to be her olive branch tattoo.

Johanna’s eyes become a bit transfixed on the layers of bubbling burns juxtaposing against dark olive skin. She shifts in the bed to face Virginia; her hands tangle in the blankets to push down the instinctive urge to reach out and touch the scar.

“Olive branch means peace, glad the Capitol never lost their idiotic, hypocritical bullshit,” Johanna mutters. Her eyes continue to take in the other two tattoos on Virginia’s legs. They look so much bigger now on her skinny legs.

Virginia surprisingly snorts out a chuckle at that and yanks her pants back up. She begins pulling her sweatshirt off, “There’s one more. They scarred a few others, but nothing as extreme.”

She rolls up the sleeve of her t-shirt and turns a bit to show Johanna the large burn on her tricep to erase the trio of forget-me-not flowers there.

“Seems a little repetitive to burning off the Valerie tattoo,” Johanna offers dryly.

“Yeah, I told you – angry. It just made me angry,” Virginia nonchalantly shrugs and pulls her sweatshirt back and crawls into the bed beside Johanna.

“And now?”

Virginia sighs and somehow Johanna knows to open up her arms and Virginia falls into them. She clings onto Johanna tightly, burying her face in the crook of Johanna’s neck.

“I don’t know, safe with you to grieve the loss of what those tattoos meant to me.”

A loud corner of Johanna’s mind is screaming that Virginia shouldn’t feel safe around her. That she probably wouldn’t feel so safe if she knew about the victors meeting and how Johanna voted for a Capitol Hunger Games.

Johanna rubs her hand between Virginia’s shoulders and then slowly extracts herself, “I want to show you something.” She explains when Virginia tries to tighten her hold on her. Johanna crouches to the tiny box in the bottom of her closet holding the yellow envelope of pictures.

“When I was in the hospital with Peeta, he offered to do something for me,” Johanna explains as she sits down and plucks the large sheet of paper from the envelope. Her chest tightens at Jack’s bright eyes brought to life by Peeta’s hand. She rests the paper where both their thighs touch. “And this was obviously before I even had my pictures back, he just had me describe Jack, talk about him a bit.”

“Wow,” Virginia breathes out. She gently picks up the drawing and looks at it closely. “I’m glad you had him; this is so nice.”

“Well, I’m thinking maybe,” Johanna huffs and rubs at her forehead since it feels uncomfortable being so sincere, “It’s stupid, I don’t know. But you said you lost all your belongings, maybe he could do something like this for you. For Valerie. And your mom.”

A beat passes.

“And your dad too.”

“I don’t remember what my dad looks like that well, they ruined all our pictures of him after he was executed. And I was only ten,” Virginia automatically explains and shakes her head. She swallows thickly, “I would like to see my sister’s face again though.”

“I can ask him tomorrow if you want me to,” Johanna offers.

“I’d pay him, obviously. I should figure out what to pay or gift them for letting a stranger stay here,” Virginia muses.

“They’re a two-victor household, they’re plenty rich. He doesn’t need money, he’s just the kind of person who would be happy to do that for you,” Johanna explains. “Especially since him and I are bonded for life, being torture neighbors and all. He’d just be happy to help someone I care about. He’s a good kid.”

“Thank you, Johanna,” Virginia tightly whispers, voice thick with tears.

Johanna just nods without looking at her, instead she slides the picture back into the envelope.

“Thank Peeta, not me,” she shrugs dismissively after returning the box to its designated spot.

Virginia fondly rolls her eyes, “Okay, tough guy. Come back to bed.”

“A please would be nice,” she jokes as she crawls back under the covers.

“Are you going to attempt to sleep tonight?” Virginia asks when Johanna lays down.

She sighs and turns on her side to face Virginia, “Yeah, falling asleep sitting up two nights in a row has pissed my neck off. I don’t know how I slept sitting up for like years straight.”

“You were a teenager,” Virginia chuckles and turns on her side to face Johanna.

“You sound like my boss, that’s why he told me to take time off work,” she rolls her eyes and mockingly air quotes Bob’s words, “’You won’t be twenty-two forever, Johanna.’ Such an ass.”

The smile Virginia gives her is so sweet, a part of Johanna already wants to call out of work tomorrow.

“What are you going to do while I’m at work tomorrow?”

“Watch Dog, probably help Peeta out with baking stuff and handing it out to people,” she shrugs. “I have my own phone appointment with my doctor; I may reach out to people in the Capitol see if I can help with organizing stuff around here. Amp up the accent to maybe get more supplies shipped out.”

“Sounds good,” Johanna grins. She leans more into Virginia’s space to reach across her to flip the lamp off. The warmth radiating off Virginia and how closely their bodies linger together make Johanna practically fall into Virginia’s side. Her arm wraps tightly around Virginia’s waist.

“Can I ask something weird?” Virginia voices a few seconds later after the darkness engulfs them.

“Is it a sex thing?” Johanna jokes.

“No, more like two weird requests.”

Virginia’s voice sounds fragile and like it has lost its playful edge, so Johanna pulls away a bit, propping herself up on her elbow and squinting to try and take in her features from the tiny bits of moonlight flooding in through the cracks of the curtains on the window. “Let’s hear it.”

“Can you, um, hold my hand?”

“That’s not weird.”

“No, uh,” Virginia stutters and looks down at her palms. “Like can you put pressure on the, um…”

Only silence rings out and Johanna bluntly supplements, “Finger stumps?”

Virginia chuckles and nods, “Yeah, sorry it’s weird. They just sometimes still feel like they’re there.”

Johanna swiftly laces her fingers through Virginia’s. She looks at how differently their hands weave now and she presses down firmly where her ring finger and pinky used to be, because it’s Virginia and she doesn’t need to be handled like something fragile.

Virginia shakily breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Not weird, Archer and Peeta had both bitched about that with their legs before,” Johanna mumbles. She does tear her eyes away from their hands. “What’s your second weird request?”

“I want to hold you and stuff; I just can’t sleep on my back anymore.”

“Oh yeah,” Johanna nods, “um, why is that?”

“Coma thing,” Virginia nonchalantly answers. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Johanna pulls the hand in her grasp close to her face, her lips brush the soft skin of Virginia’s knuckles, “You don’t need to.”

Virginia’s bright smile is almost like a nightlight of its own in the room.

It makes Johanna move automatically to lean in and brush her lips against the scar on Virginia’s cheek. She barely pulls away, lingering while shooting Virginia a wink and smirk, “Just don’t be mad if I thrash too hard.”

“Never, I’m just happy to sleep next to you.”

Notes:

sorry for the delay on this chapter! I was struggling with editing and focusing on it, i also wanted to get a bit of the next chapter done before posting this one. So hopefully Chapter 17 will be a quicker update.

a huge thanks for reading as always :) Also thank you to those who interact, the comments/feedback keep me going!

Up next in Chapter 17: Johanna has a nightmare. Virginia and Johanna take another step forward. And Johanna's guilt of how to tell Virginia about her vote for the Capitol Games reaches its breaking point.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Summary:

Healing isn't linear, especially when allowing someone else to heal alongside you.

TW:PTSD, nightmare, self-sabotage

Johanna is back in the arena.

Her first arena by the looks of it.

Snowcapped mountains in the distance, thin air, chilly yet hot from the close blazing sun, trees like home.

And oh yeah, the barbed wired snare trap that killed Birch is wrapped around her.

She will always remember his screams from the pain of the thing, remembers how his arm burst open from how hard the barbs squeezed him with each second and each move of struggle.

Except Birch is nowhere in sight.

The District 1 boy, Gleam, who set the trap is here.

Dead on the ground with Johanna’s bear claw crutch lamely deposited beside his body.

But now she is the one stuck in his trap.

She tries to move and several of her fingers have lost all their circulation from the wire, and it feels like they’re about to pop off.

Johanna forces herself to stop struggling when her forearm feels like it is about to burst open from the pressure of the wire.

But stopping moving makes her idle and still for the show that follows.

Every kill of hers in that arena is sequentially shown with vivid accuracy.

Gleam is already dead, but his district partner follows. Johanna can’t tell if it is blood, sweat, or vomit from having to watch herself bury the ice axe in the girl’s eye.

Then the District 2 boy gets a hatchet to the head, and then Ivy is bludgeoned with several axe blows.

That should be it.

But it isn’t.

The rest is like dominos.

Then it’s her mom being poisoned.

Conner dying in a fiery accident.

Mac’s gruesome death at the mill.

Her dad dying in the house fire.

Lily racing at her and away from the pursuing tributes. Johanna screams for her tribute, trying to warn her of the viper pit but she hears too late once the camouflaged pit is giving way beneath her feet.

Casey being poisoned at school.

River and that swinging log from the cable snapping – she still doesn’t see his head fly off.

Instead, it immediately goes to Daisy. It isn’t as long or as in depth as the torture videos, but she still sees the bullet in her head that ended it.

Willow getting her throat slit.

Jack’s head slamming into the stage with too much force from a Peacekeeper who looks exactly like herself.

Katherine being shot in the head right before she could escape.

Archer dangles from a rope off a nearby tree.

Now the barbs glimmer, like Beetee’s wire that looped around Katniss and Johanna’s wrists when it was sliced. The thing still digs into her skin and cuts off circulation.

Seeder dying on Cashmere’s sword to save Johanna.

Cecelia choking on her blood with Enobaria crouched atop her.

Hot blood rains down and she struggles against the barbs. Unlike last time she isn’t blind to seeing Blight run face first into the forcefield.

His body painfully lands atop her, pressing the barbs in more.

Someone carelessly shoves him off her using an axe for help – it seems to be herself again. Wiress is only fifteen feet away, throat slit. An arrow goes into the skull of Gloss, and the person shoving Blight’s corpse off Johanna spins and throws the axe to lethally land in Cashmere’s chest.

The husk of Ashford’s body strapped into a chair, his brain splattering against the tile wall makes pained, cracked laughter rip from her chest. Peeta is screaming from the other side of the wall.

Finnick in a sewer with those awful, awful mutts. Grabbing at him, ripping him apart. She hears Katniss’s screaming and it somehow makes her miss the death blow of his head being ripped off.

Johanna thinks she’s screaming or crying too.

But when everything restarts like someone rewinding a tape, she struggles in the barbs and cries.

“Johanna!”

Her name being screamed and a harsh shake ends it.

Johanna’s eyes fly open, confused and startled like prey in nature.

Everything is blurry and she can only hear her heartbeat for a moment.

It takes another few blinks and shakes from the person above her for Johanna’s vision to clear and make out Virginia.

She is above Johanna, shaking her with palpable worry on her face. The early light of dawn illuminates her. It takes a moment to notice the blood staining her face, streaming down her nose and dripping off her chin.

Is this still a dream?

“Jo, Jo, please just breathe. You’re awake,” Virginia rapidly reassures. “You’re awake now.”

“You’re bleeding,” Johanna’s voice weakly croaks.

“I know, it’s fine,” Virginia dismisses. “Just don’t move, fuck I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

Johanna barely croaks the question, and Virginia is rushing off the bed. She tries to watch her, but something painful – like the barbed trap that was slowly killing Birch – tugs on her.

She can barely move her arm, but she lifts one hand and blinks in more detached, numbing confusion.

“Why am I wrapped in yarn?”

“I’m so sorry, I fell asleep,” Virginia’s voice comes into more focus and she crouches beside Johanna with scissors in hand. She grabs Johanna’s hand and pulls it into her lap.

Johanna’s middle finger is completely white and swelling, like it’s about to pop off like her brother’s head.

Well that explains the nightmare, still doesn’t explain why she is wrapped in yarn.

Her fingers are too numb to feel any relief when Virginia carefully trims away the yarn cutting off her circulation. Johanna vaguely feels Virgina’s fingers on her forearm as she moves to cut more yarn away.

It’s too confusing and Johanna’s mind is struggling to wake, so she stares numbly at the ceiling and waits for Virginia to stop. She’s too shell shocked from her nightmare to even be triggered by the sight of the ceiling like it always does.

Johanna is almost surprised the phantom feelings of sweaty bodies atop her doesn’t invade her mind from the sight. Maybe it’s because Virginia is still blubbering and apologizing.

“You’re gonna bleed on the bed,” Johanna’s voice emptily rings out because she is tired of hearing the word sorry.

“I’ll be fine, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“What happened?”

“I was crocheting last night when I couldn’t sleep,” Virginia shakily answers wiping at her nose with the end of her sleeve, which does nothing to stem the flow of blood. “I must’ve passed out and you got tangled up in the yarn while you slept.”

Johanna slowly sits up and begins shaking her numb hands out. She looks down at her hands then up at Virginia who is pinching the bridge of her nose and leaning forward. A blood droplet splashes down onto the white sheets. The red stain spreading slowly makes Johanna’s skin itch with the memories of blood rain.

“Did I do that?” Johanna slowly asks and then nods at Virginia’s nose.

“You headbutted me, that’s what woke me up. I don’t even know how long you were clearly having a nightmare from it. You were all wrapped up and thrashing around, but I was sleeping on my good ear. I didn’t hear you,” Virginia explains and shakes her head, a sob might rip from her throat. She jumps up and disappears into the attached bathroom and returns with a bunch of toilet paper pressed to her nose. “It’s my fault, I’m so sorry. I could’ve hurt you.”

Johanna tiredly rubs at her temples, “Virginia, it’s fine. Stop saying sorry. It isn’t like you did it on purpose. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“No, no, no, don’t apologize,” Virginia stutters and shakes her head.

“Did I break it?” Johanna slowly asks.

Virginia shakes her head, “No, I’m fine. Just a nosebleed.”

A tense beat of silence passes, and it is like Johanna can feel Virginia’s guilt and panic mixed with Johanna’s detached traumatized emptiness tainting the air.

She glares down at her tingling hands and represses making a joke about Virginia trying to make Johanna match her with missing fingers. Instead Johanna’s slogging mind catches up with Virginia’s panicked recounting, “Since when do you crochet?”

“Picked it up after the coma,” Virginia quietly explains. “To keep my hands busy. Especially when I can’t sleep.”

Johanna’s eyes flit around the room that is gradually lightening from dawn, “And you like to do that in the dark? That has to be hard, they made me try to learn knitting in the hospital. I did not stick with it for long.”

“The lights were on a timer in the jail,” she quietly mumbles. “While I was awaiting trial.”

“Ugh, that sucks,” Johanna tiredly mutters. She slowly brings her hands up to her face, pressing the numb things into her eyes. “How’s the nose? Still bleeding?”

Virginia nods, “I deserved it anyways. The yarn must’ve made you have some really bad dreams, you were crying and yelling names.”

“Not your fault,” Johanna dismisses. She presses harder into her eyes to ward off the headache and flashing memories of her nightmares. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Was just caught in the trap that killed Birch.”

“What can I do?”

Johanna rapidly shakes her head to clear it, “Nothing. I’m going to take Dog outside and feed him.”

Her hands still tingle, and her mind feels like a quicksand pit of instability. She wobbles on her legs and stops at the door to the gate of the small pen Dog sleeps in, “I’m going to call out of work today, my hands feel like they’re never going to not be numb.”

She tiredly sludges out of the room before she can hear Virginia apologize again.

---

Johanna walks Dog around Victors Village several times before returning. She immediately puts a pot of coffee on and sits in the empty kitchen while sipping her drink as she watches Dog eat his food.

“Oh, hey, what are you already doing up?”

Johanna nearly catapults herself out of her seat at Katniss’s voice from the doorway. She clutches her chest and sighs to try and calm her heart; she’s still so fucking on edge from that nightmare.

“Fuck, we need to put a bell on you or something,” Johanna breathes out. “Surprised you didn’t hear me.”

“Maybe that’s why Peeta is sleeping in right now. You being used to each other’s screams and all must make for a decent white noise machine.” Katniss says and looks out the window, the smallest rays of orange breaking across the horizon. “Or at least a victor’s version of sleeping in anyways.”

Johanna actually tosses her head back and laughs, “Look at you developing a sense of humor.”

Katniss smiles smally and shrugs, her eyes flit to Dog who is licking his bowl clean, “Everything alright?”

Johanna is too tired to be witty and just lamely holds up her hands in answer, a few of her fingers have bruises now where the circulation was cut off last night, “Apparently Virginia crochets when she can’t sleep and she fell asleep with a ball of yarn in our bed. I thrashed too much in my sleep, probably rolled around in it from the way I was wrapped up when I woke up. Shit basically transported me back to my first arena.”

Katniss nods and stays silent as she pads across the room to grab a glass and fill it with water, “That makes sense why you’d wake up from that. Did you want me to check your fingers there or do they seem fine?”

Johanna waves a dismissive hand, “No, I’m fine. Out of that mess, the person who probably needs medical attention would be Virginia. I gave her a bloody nose.”

“Oh, like you hit her in your sleep?”

“Headbutted her,” Johanna groans as the realization further settles in her mind as she wakes more from the coffee she sips on. Guilt engulfing her with each hearty sip.

“Is that what woke you up?”

“No, she did,” Johanna sighs. “Did you-“

She immediately cuts herself off and shakes her head as she almost automatically started asking Katniss something. But when Katniss just leans a hip against the counter and looks at Johanna patiently, she sighs and relents to ask the embarrassing question.

“Did you and Peeta ever have issues like that when you started sharing a bed again? Your individual shit accidentally clashing with the others?”

Katniss shrugs, “I still scream a lot as you know. He’s never been much of a person who shows their nightmares. He tends to wake me up before I flail too much.”

“Yeah, probably doesn’t help that Virginia is half deaf now and sleeps on her good ear so she didn’t hear all that.”

“Oh, she is?” Katniss absentmindedly replies. “Maybe she could sleep on her other side, or just the next time she crochets she could keep the yarn on the bedside table. Less likely to get tangled up that way.”

“Not a bad idea,” Johanna hums. She slowly gets up and goes to refill her coffee and begins preparing a second cup for Virginia, consider it an ‘I am sorry for giving you a bloody nose’ gift.

“There are also other bedrooms, just because she came to find you doesn’t mean we expect you two to crowd in one room together.”

Johanna almost gives herself whiplash looking over at Katniss to see if she is being sarcastic or just socially inept. The complete blank look of genuine offer indicates it’s the latter. It could almost make Johanna laugh, but she instead just blinks slowly.

Katniss just stares back, slightly tipping her head in confusion.

“We’re together, you know that, right?” Johanna asks and chuckles a bit to try and not seem like she’s speaking from snarky contempt. But the way Katniss’s eyes slowly widen makes Johanna practically see the cogs turning in her head. “Would you really have had a good friend track you down after a war and it be that emotional?”

Katniss blinks a bit and shrugs.

“I know your only friend ever was possessively in love with you in a grating ass way, but,” Johanna chuckles and looks at Katniss with concern that she may actually be stupid. “There are people like that in Twelve, right?”

“Oh,” Katniss breathes out when it seems like the puzzle pieces finally click from her synapses slowly firing. “Uh, yeah. Not common though. Technically people like that could get married but wouldn’t be allowed to work in the mines, so really rare.”

“Must’ve been nice, wasn’t even allowed to get married like that in Seven,” Johanna absentmindedly answers.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That will change now, hopefully.”

Johanna shrugs, she really isn’t hard pressed on her ability to marry at the second when she is just desperately trying to survive day to day.

“I feel like it wouldn’t have been that weird for a friend to track you down like that though,” Katniss returns to that point with a furrowed brow. Then she crosses her arms, “And Gale wasn’t my only friend.”

“Oh yeah, real popular in school?” Johanna drawls with a smirk.

Katniss shakes her head, “Absolutely not. I had one friend though – Madge, she uh…” Katniss’s eyes glaze over a bit and she just shuts them and sighs. “In the bombing.”

“Oh,” Johanna breathes out. She then takes a few steps over and lightly bumps Katniss’s arm. “All my friends from home are dead too.”

She only receives a solemn nod in response and Johanna thinks this may be one of the few times Katniss has let the gravity of her friend’s death hit her. It’s hard to grieve when so many bodies of those she loves probably bury her too.

“At least with the bombing, she never had to deal with District 13,” Johanna offers with a smirk.

Katniss smiles a bit at that.

“Did you know about that?” Johanna asks and shifts. “Before we roomed together?”

“No, didn’t find out until after the war. I had hope with her dad being the mayor that maybe the Capitol would’ve,” she trails off and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“Mayor’s daughter, huh?” Johanna eventually breathes out after a pained second of silence settles. “I probably met her on my Victory Tour.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Sorry I can’t offer a warm and fuzzy anecdote,” Johanna says. “All I remember from District 12 was how awful my outfit was, and I was so concussed.”

“Her aunt was actually a tribute,” Katniss emptily replies. “Same game as Haymitch’s.”

“Oh wow, a rich girl being reaped? Don’t see that every year.”

“Yeah, she was the original owner of my pin.”

“Madge gave it to you?”

Katniss nods.

“Seems like a good friend.”

“She was,” Katniss weakly replies. “Came to my house in a blizzard after Gale was whipped to give us medicine.”

“Makes sense why you’d think it was normal for a friend to track someone down after a war then,” she offers.

Katniss swallows and pushes herself off the counter to rustle around in the fridge. Johanna turns her attention back to making Virginia’s coffee and wrapping a spare handful of ice cubes in a towel.

“I’m going to head upstairs, I didn’t mean to bum you out with me,” Johanna awkwardly says. “Thank you though, for checking on me.”

“Of course,” Katniss softly replies. She shuts the fridge and looks to Johanna, “Um hey, if you’re going into work today, do you think I could take Dog again-“

“No,” Johanna quickly replies. “I’m calling out of work, and I think I need him today.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Katniss says simply. “I’m going to head out, I hope your day gets better.”

“Thanks, you too,” Johanna grumbles. “Happy hunting, Katniss.”

---

Virginia has managed to stop her nose bleed by the time Johanna returns upstairs. She’s sitting at the foot of the perfectly made bed and she has her head in her hands.

“Hey, got you something,” Johanna mutters in greeting, kicking the door shut behind her. She crosses the distance and hands Virginia her iced coffee. Johanna sits beside her and holds out the towel of ice for her nose.

Virginia just shakes her head glumly and sets the glass on the floor and stares into her lap, refusing to look at Johanna.

“Come on take it,” Johanna juts her arm and insists.

When Virginia refuses to move, Johanna scoots in closer and uses her free hand to grab Virginia’s chin and turn her face towards her. Her dark skin is stained with tinges of red from blood and her eyes are bloodshot.

Johanna tries to appraise her injured nose to avoid looking at how many tears are somehow unshed from Virginia’s eyes. Her nose looks fine, barely swollen, but Johanna still is slow in her movements as she brings the ice up to her injury.

A shaky hand comes up and covers Johanna’s, pressing the ice harder into her nose. Hazel eyes flit around, “Why are you not mad? I made you have a horrible dream and couldn’t even wake up to help.”

“I’m not, if you keep apologizing though I will get annoyed,” Johanna huffs.

“I know I’m being annoying.”

“It was an accident, okay? We’re on a learning curve with this shit,” Johanna mutters. She moves the hand holding Virginia’s chin to wipe away at the few tears the Virginia blinks free. “And I should feel awful, I hurt you. That’s the whole thing that made me hesitant to share a bed with you a few years ago. Maybe I should bring back the pillow wall.”

“I don’t want that either,” Virginia mumbles. “Besides I am glad you headbutted me, if I kept sleeping you could’ve actually lost fingers from how bad the yarn was cutting off your circulation. How are those doing by the way?”

“Better, I don’t really care about that,” Johanna dismisses. She finally lets Virginia take over in holding the ice pack to her nose, her own hands falling to Virginia’s leg. Absentmindedly, her fingers trace the bubbling scar above her knee. It makes Virginia stiffen suddenly, but she slackens after a second. “Is the half deaf part the hardest adjustment?”

Virginia nods, “It’s so annoying.”

“We’ll figure something out, alright? We always do.”

---

Dr. Minerva suggests similar solutions to what Katniss said.

Only halfway through her appointment, Johanna has resolved to have Virginia just keep the yarn ball in a drawer on the bedside table if she plans to do it in bed to avoid incident. With over twenty minutes still remaining, Johanna shifts a bit before talking about another reason Virginia’s immense guilt made her so on edge.

“I don’t think she’d feel that apologetic if she knew about the vote,” Johanna admits while pinching at the bridge of her nose. “And she’s been here for like three days now, I should’ve told her immediately. She’s going to be pissed that I kept this from her while we went over all this shit.”

“I disagree,” Dr. Minerva responds. “Virginia is coming off a highly destabilizing and prolonged traumatic experience. Returning to you is providing some stability that she has needed, but if you threw that admission at her right away she may have reacted more emotionally.”

“So you agree she will react badly?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Dr. Minerva sighs. “Tell me, has Virginia ever given any indication that she is the type of person who would leave over the first sign of trouble?”

“No,” Johanna glumly responds.

“Exactly, her character over time has proven her to be patient and understanding. Is that a fair assessment?”

“Yep.”

“Right, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

“This is different. I voted for a Capitol Games.”

“Johanna, I’m from the Capitol and I’m not mad at you over your vote. In fact, both Dr. Aurelius and I understand why a person in your position voted the way you did. We also can use our knowledge of psychology to see that while you are an adult accountable for your actions, you were heavily manipulated in that meeting. All of you were.”

“But it’s like you said, I’m still accountable. And you have to not be mad at me over it; you’re my doctor.”

“I don’t have to do anything like that. I’ve told you many times that I empathize with your vote.”

Johanna just silently stares at the buttons on the receiver, eyes tracing the dirt trapped in the engraved numbers.

“Would you maybe feel more comfortable telling Virginia about this if you brought her to your next phone appointment?” Dr. Minerva offers. “You’d have me to help ensure you deliver it accurately without making excused, but while also not being so hard on yourself.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe think on that and in the meantime, try writing a note or script for how you want to tell her. It may be helpful to reference while breaking the news to include the important information – like that it wasn’t supposed to just be a random reaping but for relatives of Capitol officials, how Coin made you vote immediately, where you were at mentally at the time.”

She hates admitting when her head doctors have good ideas, but Johanna definitely thinks it can’t hurt to try that. So she sighs and asks, “When should I tell her then?”

“At the earliest, a day from now. That way you can have twenty-four hours to sort your thoughts and think on it.”

A day from now.

Petrifying.

A day from now she could be totally alone in the world again, but this time it won’t be from death. It will be from her own actions.

She couldn’t think of a more terrifying and gutting way to lose Virginia.

---

Both of them hover a lot around each other all day. Each burdened with their own guilt about the nightmare and bloody nose fiasco this morning.

So Johanna doesn’t get very far in gathering her thoughts or writing down points to include when she tells Virginia the truth.

All she really does is write down: Jack, children of officials, and had two minutes to decide while Virginia is at her own phone appointment for the day.

When Virginia returns, Johanna shoves the piece of paper with the stupid list into her pocket.

It’s not that things between them are tense today, it just feels fragile.

But it’s a rough day, it’s a part of healing, or whatever. They have each other, so all she can do is hope tomorrow is better.

---

Johanna collapses into her side of the bed with a tired huff and naturally curls into Virginia’s side.

“You were out there for a while, was Dog being stubborn?” Virginia asks due to Johanna’s cranky sighs.

“No, worse,” Johanna sighs, “I ran into Delly while I was walking him and she chatted my ear off.”

“Who is Delly again?”

“Peeta’s friend. We talked a few times in District 13, she was a big part of his de-hijacking shit. Talks way too much.”

“And that’s coming from you,” Virginia teases.

Johanna jokingly shoves at her shoulder, “Okay, asshole. Let me correct myself, she talks too much and is very perky. It’s annoying.”

Virginia tosses her head back and laughs, “That’s fair.”

“Besides you love how much I talk.”

“I do.”

Johanna readjusts herself and gets comfy on the mattress, but as soon as she is settled she realizes she needs to pee. Groaning dramatically, she begins to extricate herself from Virginia’s arms.

“Shit, I need to go to the bathroom.”

Virginia jokingly tightens her hold on Johanna, “No, you just sat down.”

“This is your fault for making me drink enough water every day,” Johanna huffs with an eyeroll. She detangles herself and continues, “I’ll probably just get ready for bed while I’m up.”

“Okay,” Virginia absentmindedly murmurs and sits up against the headboard.

Johanna plants her hand beside Virginia’s hip and presses her weight into the mattress to get up. The motion has her in Virginia’s space and hazel eyes meet her own with an ease that Johanna just forgets what she was doing and naturally keeps leaning in. It must be the same for Virginia too, because they meet in the middle.

Casually, as if it hasn’t been over a year, they kiss.

A thing that for so long, Johanna never thought she’d experience again.

But it unfolds naturally.

Just a brief peck, like the ones they’d share on missions when getting up to do mundane tasks.

For the surreal second of contact it feels like no time has passed between them at all.

Johanna pulls back and keeps getting up, not fully realizing what they just did until she’s standing, and Virginia is dazedly blinking her eyes open.

She barely suppresses the kneejerk reaction to say whoops or do something embarrassing like give her thumbs up. Instead, she tries to shoot her a smug smirk and she kind of just side shuffles to the bathroom.

“Going to go to the bathroom now,” she announces.

Fuck, so awkward. Did the electrocution shock all of Johanna’s game out of her?

Her feet could almost stumble on the wood floor from the sight of Virginia licking her bottom lip before cheekily smiling, “So you said.”

Once the bathroom door shuts and effectively severs the tension in the air, Johanna actively avoids looking at her reflection. Because if she does, she will see that her cheeks are probably redder than when she got sun poisoning in her first week in District 10.

Johanna goes through the motions – goes to the bathroom, washes her hands under scalding water, tenses before splashing her face with cold water, and makes a point to brush her teeth for about five minutes. Just in case there is any more kissing when she returns out there.

When she reemerges from the bathroom, Virginia is sitting at the edge of the bed with her feet planted on the floor. She looks up from the book in her lap and grins at her.

Johanna almost floats over to stop directly in front of her. Virginia doesn’t break eye contact as she slips a bookmark in the novel and sets it aside. Her hands automatically drift to Johanna’s hips at the same moment Johanna tangles her fingers in the collar of Virginia’s sweatshirt.

“You were in there for a while,” Virginia teases as her eyes flit down to Johanna’s lips.

“Maybe I was taking a dump,” Johanna jokes.

“Were you?”

Johanna glares up at the ceiling and mumbles, “No, I was brushing my teeth.”

“So you weren’t dealing with a bunch of regrets that we just kissed on accident?”

“Not even close,” Johanna says as she returns to looking at Virginia. From the way they’re positioned, Johanna is the taller one right now. It is a nice change of pace, and she enjoys watching Virginia slightly tilt her neck back to smile so openly at her. “I was hoping we could do that a bit more properly.”

“Oh really?” Virginia teases. “Me too.”

Johanna scoffs out a fond laugh before yanking the fabric in her grip upwards, her neck craning down to kiss Virginia more thoroughly.

Despite their awkward new routine of readapting and reacquainting with each other, this is the most natural, intoxicating feeling as Virginia’s lips move beneath hers.

There’s still plenty to be reacquainted with here, but it feels more like catching up.

Her head rushes pleasantly as Virginia parts her legs so Johanna can drift in closer. One hand on Johanna’s hip slides back to palm her lower back.

“So much better than I remember,” Virginia breathily mutters against Johanna’s mouth between kisses.

But Johanna yanks her head back as Virginia is leaning back in, her mouth opened in mock offense, “Are  you saying I was bad at it before?”

Virginia rolls her eyes and laughs, “Not even close. Memory just didn’t do it justice.”

“Lame,” Johanna mumbles against Virginia’s lips as she kisses her again.

The air around them thickens with each movement, and the soft touches make a more eager part of Johanna that had basically died off in her for a year resuscitate.

Maybe too eager.

Because as Johanna leans in to kiss her harder, parting her lips against the ones consuming her, and brushing their noses to improve the angle, she is hit with the sudden coldness and absence of Virginia’s kiss.

Johanna furrows her brow and blinks her eyes open to see Virginia wincing and pulling back. The hand pleasantly gripping Johanna’s hip leaves its station to hover in the air by Virginia’s nose.

“Ow, fuck, still sore,” she winces.

“Man, I hate myself even more for headbutting you now,” Johanna replies. “Want to stop?”

“Not necessarily, just go get me more ice for my nose.”

“Manners, Virginia,” Johanna tuts in a fake Capitol accent with offense as she reluctantly drops her grip on the crumpled fabric in her fists and steps away. “If I get you more ice, can we make out more later?”

“Still such a smooth talker,” Virginia sarcastically says. She pushes up to her feet, and Johanna immediately cranes her neck up to look at her. Virginia places a hand on Johanna’s cheek and leans down to press a kiss against her forehead. “But sure, and just so you know, my nose will probably be fine by tomorrow.”

“Very good to know,” Johanna replies with a wink as she steps back.

---

The next two days go by better.

Both sleep with little incident.

Johanna works – which goes by way too slowly now. Her annoying doctors say it is because she is excited to get home to Virginia, which duh. Doesn’t mean she needs to hear it verbalized.

While Johanna works, Virginia either helps Peeta with baking, insists on helping clean the house, crochets, and usually spends a few hours a day at the phones in the basement of the partially built Justice Building calling the Capitol to get supply orders sent out to District 12.

Peeta schedules a dinner for the next day Johanna has off work so Haymitch can join and officially meet Virginia.

Johanna’s first day back at work, she sits down at her lunch break intending to work on her script for telling Virginia about the vote, but she ends up meticulously planning and slowly whittling at the piece of Archer’s cane she tossed into her toolbox earlier that morning. She takes precautions she never used to, because this is a precious resource and she can’t afford to just scrap the project if she messes up from hand tremors.

She ends up staying late after her second day of work to finish carving at the lines of marker she made for the outline. Johanna works with the unsteady shakes in her hands and forces herself to not snap anything out of frustration.

And it isn’t like she meant to stay so long after, she just got distracted finishing the roughest part of what she’s whittling for Virginia.

It makes the hovering and lingering guilt that has been plaguing her twist unpleasantly when she returns and finds Virginia on the porch with a sleeping Dog cuddled into her side. Johanna’s never seen Virginia crocheting despite it being her hobby she’d picked up to cope since she mainly does it at night. But the skill, dexterity, and alarming speed at which she is moving the hook without even looking at it makes it easy to understand that Johanna’s tardiness has made her uneasy.

Separation anxiety or something like that – that’s how both Johanna’s doctors have described the pit she gets in her stomach since Virginia’s return if she doesn’t see her long enough. And it is clear that Virginia is plagued with it too.

It makes Johanna skip steps up the porch, her toolkit rattling with the steps.

“Hey, how was your day?” Virginia greets.

Johanna sets the toolbox beside Virginia, grabs the back of her seat as she leans down to kiss her in greeting. The chaste touch is enough for Virginia to let out an uneasy exhale against Johanna’s lips.

“Fine, I didn’t mean to stay so late.”

“Working late?”

“No, uh, actually,” Johanna sighs and unlatches the toolbox to pull out the project. “It’s ruining the surprise, but I guess I’m impatient. Just know it isn’t done yet.”

Virginia gently sets her crochet hook in her lap to reach out and grip the small piece of wood Johanna holds out.

“Since you didn’t get to keep the first one,” Johanna lamely explains what didn’t even need to be said.

Tears immediately pool in Virginia’s eyes, her mouth opening and shutting rapidly as she looks down at the small penguin figurine Johanna’s been carving.

“Is this-“ Virginia’s voice breaks a bit, “From Archer’s cane?”

“Yeah,” Johanna says with a shrug, moving the toolkit to sit beside Virginia. She reaches across, her fingertips dragging across Virginia’s inner wrist and palm to flip it over. “I tried to keep some of the original engravings intact.”

“A forget-me-not,” Virginia echoes as her fingers trace the engraving.

“Be careful, it isn’t done yet. I still need to like sand it and,” Johanna is cut off with a large oof pressing out of her throat when Virginia pulls her in to hug her tightly. Hot tears drip off Virginia’s chin and stain down Johanna’s temple. It makes a shiver that isn’t entirely unpleasant spread through her. When Virginia finally pulls away, “I take it that you like it?”

She nods, “Thank you, Jo.”

The watery yet bright smile on Virginia’s face illuminates the porch and it makes warmth flood out the unpleasant anxiety and guilt hanging over Johanna.

Well, only for a moment, because when Virginia looks fondly back at the figurine of her little sister’s favorite animal, much like the one Johanna gifted her for her twenty-second birthday, Johanna wonders if Virginia will end up wanting to throw it away or burn it in a fire when she finds out about the vote.

---

“I actually have something for you too,” Virginia says to Johanna about an hour later.

After walking Dog, Johanna forced herself to shower from it being a sweatier day for her at work. Her body is on edge, but she smirks upon walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her and hearing Virginia’s announcement.

“Oh?” She asks.

Virginia grins broadly and ceremoniously reveals a shirt on a hanger.

And sure, Johanna knows crocheting is Virginia’s go to hobby now, but she’s yet to see anything she’s made. Johanna doesn’t know what she was expecting, like sure, Virginia is good at most things she does. She’s only had the hobby for a matter of months, yet a pristine collared short sleeve button up with tan yarn and two vertical red stripes with uniform, perfect stitches looks like it was made by an expert. As if the shirt could be something made in District 1 and would be ridiculously expensive in the Capitol.

“Wow,” Johanna blinks a bit. “Jeez, how long did that take you?”

“A couple weeks,” Virginia shrugs.

Johanna’s stuck reeling at how little Virginia must sleep if she’s perfected a hobby so quickly. She walks over to her closet to pull on a pair of shorts and a tank top. She uses a second towel to aggressively dry her skin and her hair.

“Do you like it?”

As Johanna yanks the towel off her head with her hair standing up every which way, she sees the excitable, prideful smile on Virginia’s face as she wiggles the hanger in the air.

“It’s truly insane. Like scary good,” Johanna warmly says, unable to hide her smile anymore. Her pulse thrums with the realization that for weeks Virginia dedicated hours of time into something for Johanna. Something she clearly began making for Johanna before she even reunited with her. “Are you just that good at everything you do?”

“Oh yeah, it’s exhausting,” Virginia sarcastically replies. She gets up from the bed, “Want to try it on?”

Johanna begins reaching out for the thing and a deeper realization freezes her. She suddenly finds it a little hard to swallow and gather her words. For some reason she feels overwhelming surges of guilt that Virginia dedicated so much time on this shirt for Johanna and while it is clear to be perfectly fitted and tailored, she probably had her old chest measurements.

It's ridiculous that she’s mildly been avoiding telling Virginia about getting her implants removed. It was a huge thing emotionally for Johanna, finally feeling like her body was her own for the first time in half a decade. She wants to share that good news with Virginia, and it’s not like Johanna is insecure about her body or fearful that Virginia won’t find her attractive.

She thinks it may just make her squirm, because bringing that topic up is something that used to be a minefield for her about all the sexual abuse Johanna had endured. She has told Virginia about the guard groping her and breaking his fingers, but many things before that led to Johanna avoiding her own chest like a plague.

Acknowledging that it isn’t like that anymore is just a lot.

It could also be because she has been wrapped up in guilt about how to tell Virginia about the vote.

It’s hard, figuring out the order in which she should update Virginia on everything.

“Shit, uh, that might not actually fit,” Johanna grumbles when her thumb brushes against the bottom hem of the shirt.

“I used your measurements from before the Quell. You’re smaller now, but I was able to guesstimate.”

Her arms quickly cross over her chest as if to shield herself from the vulnerability of sharing such a monumental thing with someone. With Virginia, the most important person in her life.

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Johanna grumbles and awkwardly clears her throat. She shivers at the air conditioning biting at her bare shoulders. “The chest will be way too big. I, uh, I got my implants out.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Virginia states it so simply that Johanna nearly gives herself whiplash when snapping her head to look directly at her.

Johanna’s crossed arms fall lamely to her sides and she frowns, “What do you mean you know?”

“Johanna,” Virginia chuckles so warmly and almost cockily that it makes Johanna shiver for a whole other reason than the biting air conditioning on her exposed arms. She takes a step in closer, unbuttoning the crocheted shirt and pulling it off the hanger.

Johanna swallows thickly as Virginia absentmindedly tosses the hanger behind her towards her bed. Reaching out to grab the offered garment, Johanna finally rubs her fingers over the exquisite stitches and soft yarn. It’s so fitting to her style, she smiles absentmindedly to herself while shrugging her arms through the holes.

“I mean, we’ve hugged and cuddled a lot,” Virginia says warmly and obviously. Her cheeks tint red before she mutters with less confidence, “Also, I’ve seen them before. Even if I haven’t seen you naked since, I can tell they look different.”

Finding herself surging with a form of electricity that is the exact opposite of the torture she incurred; she confidently steps closer. Her skin is itching with anticipation and excitement.

Johanna pokes Virginia’s forearm and gives her a teasing smile, “So what you’re saying is you’ve only been able to come to that conclusion from feeling me up and staring at my boobs a lot?”

More surging currents of excitement shoot through her as Virginia genuinely laughs. She even wheezes a few times, before sobering from her chuckles to shoo Johanna’s hands away from the buttons at the bottom of the shirt. Johanna is frozen in place, suddenly feeling every cell in her body come to life as Virginia takes over the task, focusing intently on buttoning up Johanna’s shirt.

“You don’t wear bras at all, and you sleep in white shirts,” Virginia eventually snorts out.

“Yeah, and your point is?” Johanna teases while twitching her hands awkwardly at her hips, unsure what to do with them.

“Of course I would be able to notice they look different,” Virginia states, her hands almost stumble and pause at the button that rests below Johanna’s sternum.

Johanna lets out a shuttering breath and thinks Virginia may be able to feel her own thudding heartbeat through the air in the few inches that separate her knuckles from the chest that is the very object of this conversation. It makes Johanna’s tongue heavy in her mouth and her sarcastic remark dies on her lips. Her hands just continue to twitch and she’s just trying to focus on not breathing too hard while starting so intently at the hands slowly moving up the shirt.

“I figured since you hadn’t brought it up that you weren’t ready to talk about it,” Virginia nonchalantly shrugs.

She fastens the last button that falls beneath Johanna’s collarbones. And like magnetic forces both their eyes immediately land on each other’s.

Automatically Johanna’s hands stop their awkward dance and settle onto Virginia’s hips. The warm skin pleasantly burns her palms.

“Thank you,” Johanna softly murmurs while giving her hips a soft, meaningful squeeze. Somehow the words feel much heavier and like they carry a whole new meaning.

Aware of every molecular action of change happening between them, it’s not lost on Johanna that Virginia unconsciously drifts in closer. And it would be criminal for either of them to break out of this little bubble of theirs.

To keep her hands busy, Virginia’s hands move to trace behind the collar of Johanna’s shirt. She fiddles with it, so it lays just right.

The silence between them feels like a powder keg. As the already perfectly laid collar is flattened down by Virginia’s soft touch, she grasps onto the fabric by Johanna’s collarbones.

Their eyes remain stuck on each other, and Johanna is about to reach up to grab Virginia’s face to yank her down into a kiss when she speaks again.

“I think they look a lot better now, by the way,” Virginia softly murmurs. “I can see how free you are in your body. The way you carry yourself, it just suits you.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll let you get reacquainted with them,” Johanna flirts lightly and jokingly gesture at her chest before moving to grip the ends of Virginia’s elbows.

Virginia’s smirk deepens, “Tempting.”

Hazel eyes flit down Johanna’s body in a way that almost makes Johanna magnetically arch in closer to her.

“I guess it wouldn’t be reacquainting fully since I never really let you touch them,” Johanna absentmindedly responds. She looks up to the ceiling, feeling heat spreading up her neck as she honestly continues, “I will want you to touch them now though.”

“Right this second?” Virginia teases while biting on her bottom lip.

It makes the air crackle at this point and Johanna’s impatience is too chipped away at, “No, but maybe you should kiss me now if you’re going to keep looking at me like that.”

Johanna’s hands move to both sides of Virginia’s face to help guide her down as she swoops down kiss her.

A gasp is pressed out of Johanna’s mouth from the hand that slides down to press the yarn fabric firmer into her lower back.

Unlike the kisses of the last few days that would always get interrupted with Virginia’s goofy smiles or Johanna breaking off to make some jokes, there’s more urgency here.

Each warm and firm brush of Virginia’s lips against hers begins to dethaw parts of Johanna that she forced herself into dying off in the last year while thinking she lost this. Maybe because the way Virginia makes her feel with every minute touch, brush of her tongue, press of her lips is so fucking good it would’ve torn her into pieces to think she’d never have it again.

Although Johanna won’t bother repeating anything corny like Virginia did the other night, she agrees, it’s even better than she remembered.

It makes Johanna’s blood burn, her body aches thinking of how little justice her other memories did of other things. It’s not like Johanna is ready to jump back into bed where they left off, but she feels an increasing urgency to further explore every bit of each other with nothing to rush them.

Her feet move forward, leading Virginia like in some dance. She pulls away centimeters to chuckle hotly against Johanna’s mouth when the back of her thighs hit the mattress.

Johanna doesn’t pull away from the kisses growing in fervor while blindly undoing the buttons on the new shirt with shaking fingers.

Virginia pulls away, panting and looking at Johanna with a hungry expression. Black fly away hairs stick out at her temples from Johanna’s hands, her cheeks are flushed, and the mattress jostles a bit when Virginia plops down on it.

Distractedly her eyes trace along Johanna’s form, hungrily watching the buttons being undone. But like a small gasp, a sobering look flickers behind hazel eyes that look so dark with desire.

“You don’t want to see how it looks on?” Virginia teases with a small smile.

“Mirrors will still exist later,” Johanna jokes with a cocky smirk. The yarn that was beginning to make her heated body burn and risked making sweat itch at her slowly slips off her shoulders and onto the floor.

Although Virgina’s gaze is now distracted by an endearing, uptight part of her as she quickly stands up to scoop up the shirt while reaching back for the hanger deposited on the bed.

“Some things never change, I guess,” Johanna chuckles while watching Virginia slip the shirt back onto the hanger. “Did you want to tidy up the room and remake the bed while you’re at it?”

Virginia tosses her head back and laughs, “Shut up, I’m just going to hang it up.”

And her compulsive neatness isn’t as precise. She doesn’t redo the buttons or make sure the shirt is hanging pristinely, Virginia just hooks the hanger on the closest possible thing which is the door handle to the bathroom.

Johanna plunks across the foot of the bed, propping her chin on her fist, elbow digging into the mattress. Her fond watching of Virginia grows hungry again when she spins and rushes to plop beside Johanna on the mattress.

Virginia grips Johanna’s chin and leads her back into a hot kiss. Johanna reciprocates and leans in closer, pressing into her. One of the hands on Johanna’s hip accidentally pushes up the bottom of her tank top. An index finger slots between her lower ribs.

“Shoot, sorry,” Virginia mumbles, lowering her hand to rest on the fabric of Johanna’s shorts.

“No, put it back,” Johanna instructs without opening her eyes, leaning in to kiss Virginia again. A louder gasp is smothered against Virginia’s lips when warm skin pleasantly burns the bare skin at Johanna’s hips.

Johanna rolls into her more, partially atop her. One of her hands leaves where it is gripping Virginia’s shoulders to grab at the hand burning her skin, starting to push it further up her side.

“Woah, Jo,” Virginia breathes out as she pulls away.

“What? Shit, too far?” She breathes out, pulling back a bit at how serious Virginia’s expression has grown. “Are you okay?”

Virginia blinks quickly and chuckles lightly, “I’m great. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that’s why I was trying to get you to feel me up,” Johanna chuckles.

“Okay, but,” Virginia pulls away a bit and sits up, “This is a big deal for you. Maybe we should take a beat, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Like are you-“

“I’m not made of glass,” Johanna irately huffs. She sits up and crosses her arms across her chest, hiding how cold she suddenly feels without Virginia’s touch, “You don’t get to decide to what’s a big deal for me or not.”

“Johanna, I’m not-“

Johanna doesn’t know why she is getting so defensive. But the mood is extinguished, and she is shoving to her feet.

But deep down, Johanna knows why it’s like pulling the hair trigger on her temper.

Because Virginia is still so sweet and kind and respectful.

But she doesn’t know.

She doesn’t know who Johanna has become. She is still thinking of the person Johanna used to be, and she knows this wouldn’t be the case if Johanna told her.

And here Johanna is, an even bigger piece of shit trying to get Virginia to feel her up before she’s even told her the truth.

The truth that she knows will likely make her leave.

Virginia is still rambling, slowly getting to her feet. But Johanna is just done, she doesn’t deserve any of this kindness.

“Shut up!” Johanna hollers – suddenly thankful that Peeta and Katniss did a trip to some lake in the woods today so they can’t hear her voice carrying so loud. She shuts her eyes and is drenched in shame as Virginia flinches at the raised voice. It makes the beginnings of tears itch behind Johanna’s eyes, now she is scaring her.

“I’m not trying to speak for you, I just wanted to check in so we didn’t rush anything,” Virginia softly mutters.

“You wouldn’t fucking feel that way if you knew the truth!” Johanna exclaims although her voice lacks the aggravation it earlier had. Now she sounds empty.

“This is like the second time you’ve been super ominous about that,” Virginia sighs. “What? What is the big deal of whatever happened that makes you think some truth will change things. Nothing could ruin what we have, we survived so much to be together. The way I feel about you will never change-“

“I voted for a Capitol Hunger Games,” Johanna cuts her off. Her words are firm, even, and emotionless.

“I-“ Virginia’s rambling words halt. She shakes her head in confusion, “What?”

Johanna isn’t a coward like she pretended to be in her first arena, it is why she forces herself to watch Virginia’s face as she explains. Although she can’t quite meet her eye, “Before the assassination, Coin had the victors vote on a symbolic Hunger Games for Capitol children. As retribution for everything. And I voted yes.”

“You-you,” Virginia stutters. Her loving expression drying into something of shock and betrayal. And it is tangible in how something in Johanna’s chest cracks at the way Virginia’s face shifts. It’s like she is looking at Johanna like she doesn’t recognize her. “You voted for that? But I’m from there. Kids like-“

“Exactly,” Johanna’s throat is thick with tears she won’t let shed.

She begins moving, because despite all the torture and pain she’s endured the way her heart physically hurts right now likely ranks in the top three worst things she’s ever felt. She moves over to Dog’s playpen, thankfully he is still a puppy small enough to pick up. He begins waking up as she snags up his leash.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The only way Johanna could describe Virginia’s tone is betrayal.

“Because I knew you’d look at me like that,” Johanna whispers weakly. “Like I’m a stranger. I was selfish, but it isn’t fair you don’t know. Even if it means I lose you.”

She sets Dog down on the ground and clips his leash to his collar, her hand moving to the door handle.

“No, Johanna,” Virginia suddenly calls when Johanna turns her back to her. “You don’t get to tell me that and just leave.”

“So I can hear you decide to leave me?” Johanna chuckles. “That Games aren’t going to happen now, but I know we can’t go back. You’re always going to see me like some…”

She trails off and begins walking out the door despite Virginia calling after her.

“I need air,” Johanna’s voice cracks and she slams the door behind her and nearly sprints out of the house.

Dog – in all his oblivious, dumb, puppy joy – has a smiling, panting expression like Johanna is taking him for a run. She wishes she could feel that way, but Johanna feels like she is being crushed by something awful.

---

It’s not like she left knowing where she was going, but considering her limited acquaintances in District 12 it doesn’t take much brain power for Johanna to show up on Haymitch’s doorstep. She knows from Peeta’s constant trips over there that Haymitch doesn’t lock his front door.

And the assault on her senses of stink, rot, and filth at least breaks up the despair gutting Johanna.

She tugs on Dog’s leash to keep him from eating a half-rotted sandwich on the floor in a pile of garbage. The sound of a glass bottle rolling across the floor from her foot echoes off the cavernous walls.

Haymitch is awake, hunched over a bottle and looking out a back window of his house. He barely reacts at Johanna rushing in with her Dog on a leash. She looks pant-less since she threw on one of Peeta’s jackets hanging by the front door on her way out, but she didn’t even bother putting shoes on.

“Trouble in paradise already? Or here to yell at me for not knowing about her being alive earlier despite it being confidential information?” He slurs when he glances at her.

Johanna looks around at his dirty and sad home.

She sees a drunk and destroyed man that still has so little after Snow’s demise.

A person whose fate is her own.

“I’m here for a drink,” she announces.

“Aren’t you above all that?” He slurs, “I remember you giving Ashford and Blight shit for it all the time.”

“Yeah, well I just told Virginia about the vote, so…”

He nods solemnly and juts out a half empty bottle towards her.

“She didn’t react well?”

“I didn’t want to have a heart to heart,” Johanna huffs as she snags up the bottle.

The clear liquor burns down her throat and sloshes into her stomach acid. Only two gulps makes her head swirl, she thinks the last time she drank was when the Quell was announced.

“Neither do I. I’m just surprised she’d react that badly since Plutarch said she was so desperate to get back to you too,” he slurs. “You voted that way because of Snow, figured she would understand.”

It’s the first time Johanna realizes she literally forget everything her head doctors told her and told Virginia limited information in the absolute worst way. But the damage is already done. She tugs on Dog’s leash when he sniffs at a pile of crusts on the floor.

“Fuck this place is filthy, I’m going to drink on the back porch so my dog doesn’t poison himself,” she huffs.

“Sure, just make yourself at home,” he sarcastically calls after her.

Johanna throws up her middle finger at him before the door slides shut behind her.

She collapses on a creaky porch step and takes a longer pull off the bottle. Dog sits beside her and leans into her, just like his mom did when Bella found Johanna at her lowest in District 10.

But unlike then, she isn’t resistant to the animal’s comfort. Because Dog is all Johanna has now. Her arms wrap around him, and she buries her face in the fur by his collar to muffle a sob that rips out of her.

Notes:

sorry guys, but hey they kissed :)

I feel like the most Katniss thing ever is she just thought Johanna and Virginia were just good friends lol. If you squint, I inserted the headcanon that Madge maybe had a bit of an unrequited crush on Katniss.

Also, i hope ya'll know where Virginia says 'yeah, i know' about the implants has the same energy as Linda Belcher in Bob's Burgers when Bob is like 'Lin, i just realized something. I had a bad childhood." and she literally says 'yeah, i know."

thanks for reading! I have been meaning to catch up on replying to some comments :) a huge thanks to those who leave kudos, comments, bookmarks!

Up next in Chapter 18: Peeta fills in the blanks of Johanna's half-assed confession that missed all the pertinent details, and Virginia is pissed but not for the vote itself. Johanna has to deal with talking out her feelings and a dinner with Virginia and the District 12 victors.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Summary:

Johanna and Virginia talk it out...a lot, and it's nowhere near as awful as Johanna was worried about. And they share a normal night with the District 12 victors.

Johanna’s self-pickling process is interrupted by the annoying sounds of knocking for what feels like a solid five minutes. She’s convinced it’s Haymitch knocking on something or rocking on a chair but can’t care to go check. Sure, there’s a chance he’s fallen or something and is knocking for her help but if he kept himself drunk and alive this long, she’s certain he can handle himself.

But his muffled voice finally makes her slightly turn away from where she is just staring at a sleeping Dog while chipping away at the bottle.

Through his window she can see him turning towards the front door, “Sure, just let yourself in.”

Johanna is expecting to hear Peeta or Katniss’s voice, but it is neither.

The voice is of the person she’s avoiding who she thought would be on the next train out of here.

She tries to stand for a moment, considering running and hopping his fence but falls back onto her ass on the steps.

“I was knocking forever, is she here?”

Johanna groans into her hands and wipes at her face. She runs her fingers through her hair but she’s pretty certain it only makes it stick out more.

“Johanna Mason.”

“Gotta love when my name is used as both a greeting and a scolding,” she mutters into the lip of the glass bottle before she takes another sip.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Virginia snarls.

It’s the angriest she’s sounded in years. The angriest since before they became friends and got together, but there isn’t disgust in her tone which is what gives Johanna the strength to look at Virginia.

Under the porch light – when did it get so dark out? – she can see how red Virginia is and how she is clenching her jaw like steam could come out of her ears.

But she isn’t looking at Johanna like some stranger like that awful look that has been branded in her mind for hours.

“The fucking gall of you,” Virginia hisses, she steps in closer and holds out her hand, “Give me that bottle and get up.”

“You don’t get to boss me around.”

“And you don’t get to drop a bomb on me and run away like a coward,” Virginia snaps, flicking her fingers in Johanna’s direction.

Johanna blinks a few times when something light collides with her face. She glances down at the source falling onto the step beside her – a small, folded piece of paper.

She reaches out for it, unfolding it and finding the pathetic list she started making a few days ago. Automatically she crumples it up in her fist to stop staring at her own illegible handwriting.

“You went through my pockets?” Johanna snarls, trying to find anything to latch onto since she’s being ambushed. “What else? Did you snoop through all my things while you were at it?”

“You fucking left me, nobody was there, and I couldn’t leave or chase after you. So I just started cleaning and doing laundry, found that in your pants,” Virginia accuses. “It didn’t take much brain power to realize it was about that vote. Luckily, Katniss and Peeta got back. And Peeta was at least decent enough to fill in the gaps for me. Something you didn’t even afford me.”

“I wanted to, that’s what that stupid list was for,” Johanna snips impatiently. The rush of anger is extinguished as she lets out a defeated sigh and continues, “My head doctors said to make a script. What did Peeta tell you?”

“Everything, Johanna.”

“And?” She dismissively grumbles as she stands to keep her back turned to Virginia.

“And this is fucking bullshit. Is this some half-baked cowardly way of just pushing me away? Are you too fucking afraid to tell me you don’t want me here?” Virginia’s anger tapers into something sadder.

“No,” Johanna rapidly shakes her head and with the alcohol already making her head swirly it almost makes her fall over. Virginia rushes over and grips Johanna’s elbow to keep her upright.

“Let’s get you off these steps so you don’t snap your neck.”

Johanna huffs and lets Virginia lead her down the steps.

“Not even close,” she finishes her point as the world wobbles less beneath her feet.

The cobblestone pathway with flowers that Johanna and Peeta both planted a week ago brush against the back of her calves as she sways unevenly. There’s less porch light illuminating them so she can’t quite make out all of Virginia’s features.

“I have been like,” Johanna swirls a hand around beside her temple, “Going round and round and round in my head. Feeling so fucking stuck and didn’t know how to tell you without losing you.”

Virginia pinches the bridge of her nose and huffs like she can’t ward off the headache Johanna is about to give her, “So you just decided to tell me in the absolute worst way possible?”

“Well, not consciously,” Johanna mumbles.

“Is it because Peeta reacted badly at first?”

“Oh, so he told you everything?” Johanna drawls sarcastically before sighing and kicking her foot at the ground while shrugging smally, “Maybe, and you would have more right to be mad at me about that than him. Since you’re from there.”

“Can you even comprehend how it came across to me when you first told me? I thought you were saying it was going to be the same setup of a reaping, picking kids at random and the poor ones being most likely. Kids like me.”

“Yeah, I didn’t realize until I left,” Johanna drops Dog’s leash in favor of scratching the back of her neck, making his leash plop atop her bare foot.

Virginia sighs in irritation and bends down to snag it up so he doesn’t go sniffing around the yard. She turns away from Johanna, glaring down at the ground, “So it wasn’t some shitty way of just trying to get me to leave?”

“No, I, ugh,” Johanna groans and runs her fingers through her hair again. “Words are so fucking hard. I just was, fuck, scared of losing you. I’ve lost everyone.”

“Yeah, you’ve lost everyone. I lost everyone too. But we didn’t lose each other and you don’t get to treat me shitty because of that. If anything, it should be the opposite; you should treat me like I matter.”

“I do, I want to, I just,” Johanna hiccups. “Thinking I lost you from dying is one thing, it was awful but I was staring to survive it. B-but I couldn’t stomach losing you from it being my own actions that made you choose to leave. And I got so wrapped up in my head I managed to shit the bed as horribly as humanly possible.”

Johanna inhales largely since she practically spit all those words out in about five seconds and didn’t stop to breathe. She wobbles a bit on her feet when she looks up at the sky for a second and the stars make her dizzier, “Fuck, I’m talking a lot about lame emotions. Aren’t I?”

Virginia rubs at her eyes and shakes her head, “Johanna, I meant it when I said you wouldn’t lose me no matter what. But you’re fucking hammered and we need to talk about this once you sleep this off.”

Johanna’s shoulders sag in some relief, she steps a bit closer to Virginia and reaches out to touch her arm but lets her hand lamely fall to her side, “You’re not going to leave me over this?”

“No, Johanna. I’m fucking pissed. Possibly considering making you sleep on Katniss’s porch,” She mumbles and then sighs, her tone becoming gentler, “But I can’t stomach losing you either. You know that, right?”

Virginia reaches out and grabs the hand that Johanna let fall lamely to her side. The cooling air and gesture makes Johanna shiver.  

“You are a stubborn ass, but I fucking need you too, Johanna. You,” Virginia’s tight tone softens, a shaky breath of her own fills the air, and she squeezes Johanna’s hand, “You mean everything to me.”

An annoying sniffle itches the inside of Johanna’s nostrils as she nods in agreement, moving their clasped hands to tangle their fingers together. She follows Virginia as she leads them up the steps and inside, glaring at the dirty ground, too embarrassed to look at Haymitch.

“Sorry for barging in,” Virginia says. She jostles Johanna’s arm, “Give him the rest of the bottle.”

Johanna rolls her eyes and sets the bottle on the ground, “Don’t boss me around. You’re welcome for the evening entertainment, Haymitch.”

“Yep, night.” Haymitch slurs and belches before reaching for the bottle with about three sips worth left in it.

Virginia rapidly leads her out of the house, and she doesn’t talk until they make it out the front door and down the steps.

“If you want to sleep in bed with me tonight, you need to wash your fucking feet first,” Virginia mutters and doesn’t hide a shudder. Her nose is wrinkled, and she shakes out her free hand in lingering disgust from Haymitch’s hole he rots in.

“That’s it?” Johanna asks with a sloppy smirk, even if it is because of the clear lingering effects of Virginia’s torture that has made her develop hyper-cleanliness.

“Yeah, he should really pay one of the many people here who need the money to clean his home,” Virginia mutters.

“You would’ve been disgusted by me in Thirteen,” Johanna mumbles. “I like didn’t shower at all and trained every day.”

“That was fresh off you being tortured with water, what’s his excuse?”

Johanna snorts a tiny laugh; she has a fair point. And even though she got filthy in District 13, she never was messy in her living space since she didn’t own anything.

“Makes me think of Ashford,” Johanna mumbles. Her footsteps falter over nothing. Automatically her eyes blink rapidly to try and push out the auditory assault of the sound of the gunshot that ended him. “He was a walking biohazard of filth, who would’ve thought that thinking about that fact about him is a relief? Anytime I can even think about him now just comes back to him in my cell…”

“Plutarch told me about him,” Virginia softly says when Johanna’s words die out. She comes to a stop and looks at Johanna. “Everything.”

Her free hand comes up to the side of Johanna’s face, thumb sweeping across her cheek. Johanna didn’t realize the minor memory of it made her tear up.

“I made them take him out of his misery; it was the only moment of mercy my entire time there. Even if they did it because their pathetic tempers,” Johanna states and stares down at their feet. “Did he tell you about how Blight died too?”

“I saw it,” Virginia mumbles. “I didn’t watch most of the Quell live but had to watch recaps leading to the breakout.”

“So does that mean I don’t have to disclose all my awful arena shit?” Johanna slurs with an empty chuckle.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. And especially if you aren’t ready for it,” Virginia offers. Her hand slides down so she can slide a finger under Johanna’s chin, forcing her to meet her eye. “Johanna, you went through a lot. I feel like part of the reason you told me about that vote in the worst way possible was because you rushed yourself to talk about it before you were ready.”

“It felt wrong not to tell you, that was like the worst thing I did. That and the whole stealing morphiling from a child thing,” she says and shrugs, eyes flitting to Katniss’s porch and staring at the light until white flecks appear in her eyes. “Besides, you went through a ton too and you’ve told me almost everything.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t go through anything. I just had less shit to update you on. You had to go through an arena and be tortured when they knew you had rebel secrets,” Virginia gently nudges Johanna’s chin to get her to look into her eyes. She smirks and laughs dryly, “Fuck, you had to deal with District 13.”

Johanna chuckles, “The morphling withdrawal was the worst thing there, maybe other than the lack of senses of humor held by everyone there.”

“Not your lack of showering?” Virginia teases.

Johanna drops Virginia’s hand in favor of lightly backhanding her bicep, “Dick.”

“Too soon?”

“No, besides I deserve it for tonight.”

Virginia’s light expression sobers, “We can talk more tomorrow. But we should get you to bed, you still have work tomorrow.”

“If I could do military drills in morphling withdrawal, I can work while hungover,” Johanna waves a dismissive hand.

It feels as if the boulder of guilt that had been hovering and pressing down on Johanna is finally gone. And under the partial moonlight, she can see how Virginia’s hazel eyes still look at Johanna like she’s everything. It doesn’t feel like she deserves it, but Johanna doesn’t get to decide for her.

For the first time, maybe ever, Johanna feels lucky. Lucky to have Virginia after everything.

She steps in closer and presses on her tiptoes, hands sliding up to grab Virginia’s face. Johanna closes her eyes while leaning in but quickly cracks a confused eye open when her lips meet nothing but cold air.

Virginia cranes her neck back a bit to keep Johanna from kissing her.

Johanna frowns and she hates how pouty she sounds when she asks, “Are you still mad at me?”

“No, I mean,” Virginia sighs, “I am annoyed but we’ll be fine.”

“So kiss me then.”

Okay, she officially sounds whiney and pouty. Thankfully she’s too drunk to care.

Virginia chuckles, “Johanna, you’re drunk.”

Johanna scoffs and rolls her eyes, “I’m not trying to have sex, I just wanted to kiss you, jerk.”

“Charming,” Virginia says warmly. She moves to wrap an arm around Johanna’s waist and keeps a grip on her chin to tilt it up.

Johanna’s eyes flutter shut, and she feels the true first bits of relief and safety when Virginia leans down and barely brushes her lips against Johanna’s for about half a second. Just long enough for Johanna to begin kissing her back.

As Virginia begins pulling back, an annoying noise rips from the back of Johanna’s throat, “Come back.”

She leans back in and silences Virginia muttering the word ‘needy’ to kiss her properly.

“Jeez, you taste like lighter fluid.”

Johanna steps back and rolls her eyes, “Now look at who is charming.”

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

She teeters up the front steps with Virginia leading her.

Johanna winces a bit upon crossing the threshold, fearing that Peeta and Katniss might be waiting for her return.

“I’m going to put Dog to bed,” Virginia murmurs as she kicks her shoes off. She leans down and kisses Johanna’s forehead, “Go get some water. I’ll come back down.”

“Drinking water sucks,” Johanna groans and throws her head back.

“Go drink some water, you’ll thank yourself for it tomorrow,” Virginia repeats, she reaches to Peeta’s jacket that hangs off Johanna’s form. She unzips it and helps Johanna out of it. As she hangs it back up, she nods in the direction of the kitchen. “And go thank your friend, he really saved you from my wrath tonight.”

“Fuck, I’ll go give him a gift basket,” Johanna slurs with a chuckle and reluctantly walks away from Virginia in the direction of the kitchen.

Even in the dim room with only one light on, the place feels more homey after just sitting outside of Haymitch’s house for hours. The air smells of cinnamon, the counters still gleam like they were very recently wiped down, the air is warm as if the oven was just turned off, and Peeta is sitting at the table with a relatively blank sketch pad beneath his hands.

He looks up at her crossing the threshold, giving Johanna a warm smile, “Hey, Johanna.”

“Did you stay up to make sure I made it back by my curfew?” She jokes.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says simply. He points his pencil at a loaf of bread cooling on the nearby counter, “I made that cinnamon bread you like, may be a good idea to put something in your stomach. Virginia said you didn’t eat dinner.”

Johanna’s mouth nearly waters and her stomach gurgles. She doesn’t need her arm twisted to grab a plate and load it with two thick slices. As she sits down across from Peeta, he pours water from a pitcher into an empty glass beside it.

“I really worried you if you went to all this effort?” She mutters as she looks around.

“I was worried, but I mainly made the bread so I could get Virginia to join me so she could calm down and tell me what happened,” he says.

“Thanks for doing that,” Johanna mumbles. She takes a heaping bite of the still warm bread, “And for explaining it better to her than I did. Apparently, you saved my ass.”

“Of course, it didn’t take long to realize she got a really skewed explanation of things.”

Johanna can’t quite look at him, instead watches his pencil move against the page, “How was she when you better explained it?”

“Relieved,” he honestly answers after a beat of silence. “And pissed at you for explaining it so badly and running.”

She buries her face in her hands and groans, “Ugh, I just made everything worse.”

“Maybe, but it’s fixable,” Peeta offers. He sets his pencil down and gives her an even look, “She really cares for you, Johanna. And I saw how much she meant to you when you thought you lost her. It’s okay to let yourself have this, no matter how scary it may seem.”

“Barf,” she mutters into her glass of water while rolling her eyes.

Peeta chuckles, “I feel like that being your only comeback means you agree.”

She scowls, “Or I’m just drunk, Haymitch gave me his cheapest, shittiest stuff. Apparently kissing me is like drinking lighter fluid.”

“That is not what I said,” Virginia’s voice rings out from behind her and Johanna nearly flings the piece of bread in her hand across the table.

“How the fuck could you hear me? You’re far away,” Johanna exclaims in confusion when turning to look at Virginia entering the kitchen.

“I’m like six feet away,” she replies with mirth. “And you’re loud as shit, Jo.”

Johanna’s jaw drops in mock offense, and she turns to look at Peeta who shrugs. He gives a small smile, “She makes a valid point.” He gathers up his sketch book and pencils, and gets up, he stops beside Virginia on his way out of the kitchen, “I’m glad you’re both doing better. Goodnight, guys.”

Virginia crosses the room to stand beside Johanna, her hand gripping the back of the chair almost making Johanna sink into the warmth. “Almost done eating?”

Johanna takes the half slice remaining and shoves the whole thing in her mouth.

“Classy,” Virginia mutters. She grabs Johanna’s glass of water and refills it, “Now let’s go to bed so you aren’t dying at work tomorrow.”

“I thought I had to wash my feet first,” Johanna grumbles nearly indistinguishably from the food clogging her mouth.

“That was implied as well,” Virginia teases. Her smile softens a bit, “Thanks for remembering that.”

“Thanks for letting me sleep in bed with you after I behaved like an ass.”

“Hey, if I kicked you out of bed for being an ass I’d be alone more nights than not,” Virginia jokes and Johanna stands up with a frown on her face as she flicks Virginia’s bicep. She dramatically yelps, “Ow!”

It makes a chuckle rip out of Johanna’s throat while she is swallowing the last of the bread, nearly making her choke on the whole thing. But she survives it, just like she survived everything else.

---

By the time Johanna returns in the late afternoon from a workday that horribly dragged on, she’s already vomited three times. She knows she feels just as shitty as she looks.

As she drags her feet up the steps, Johanna realizes it’s the first time Virginia isn’t actively waiting on the porch for Johanna to return. Nobody seems to be in the house, and Johanna swallows the impending waves of unease.

She should feel some relief that Virginia’s bag is still in the room and Dog is nowhere in sight. Logically, Johanna should know it means Virginia is probably walking him or out doing something with Peeta.

But all her pathetic mind echoes is that she has been left.

Totally alone again.

Johanna begins sweating profusely while pacing the length of the room. Her shirt is already sweat soaked from work, she peels it off and kicks off her jeans. The air from the ceiling fan makes her body shiver violently.

The sudden chill after so much sweating makes her stomach twinge with memories of morphling withdrawal in District 13. She felt fully like her dad when hallucinating him that night.

With horror, she feels like him now. She showed up to work today, insanely hungover, just like he used to do. And her first hour of work she probably was still transitioning from drunk to sober, just like her dad on that fateful day of his fall from grace that led him down the path of becoming a monster.

Dr. Minerva could tell she was visibly hungover at her appointment on the phone screen today. It didn’t break Johanna’s terms of release where she still had to be drug tested for morphling once a week, but she did tell Johanna she had to note it in her chart. It means Dr. Aurelius will probably grill her on it tomorrow, not any warnings, but probably asking about urges and any hunger for morphling.

And today is the most obvious day it has been in a few months where the hunger for it is so hard to ignore.

If she weren’t such a damaged husk, she could go stand in the shower. The running water would help clear her head, wash the sweat and shame away, it would make her feel better.

But Johanna isn’t normal or okay about water, she never will be.

Not fully, even if some of the past days have been easier.

She wants that relief more than anything, but it only makes her skin crawl more at the mere idea of it.

Her hands shake violently, shoving hangers in her closet, flinching at the metal screeching noise. The fabric of all her clothes feels wrong beneath her fingertips as she rips about half a dozen shirts onto the ground.

Johanna huffs, stamps her foot, and storms over to Virginia’s bag. She unzips it rapidly, wheezing out a pathetic sound upon seeing it empty.

Virginia didn’t leave.

She goes over to the dresser with Virginia’s clothes, pulling out the bottom drawers too aggressively. The one her right hand nearly rips out has a couple sweatshirts. Johanna automatically grabs the biggest one and yanks it on.

Johanna pathetically plops at the foot of the bed, pulling her knees up and under the fabric, hugging them to herself.

It doesn’t feel fully right, the way Virginia’s clothes feel now. They aren’t as big on Johanna, it is kind of big on her, but she knows how baggy this is on Virginia’s body. It doesn’t smell like her perfume but still has traces of her.

“Pathetic,” Johanna hisses at herself, knocking her chin against her knees.

She refuses to cry over this stupidity of her own spiral.

Johanna just keeps mumbling and degrading herself with adjectives like idiot, coward, whiney bitch, and things of the like for an unknown amount of time.

The hood of the sweatshirt is yanked up, and she’s curled in on herself while cussing herself out when the door creaks open. Claws on the floor begin snapping her out of her reverie. Johanna blinks dazedly, barely lifting her head and meeting Virginia’s eye.

“Johanna?”

Her name is said softly in question, and it is the first time tears threaten to spill. Johanna shakes her head and drops her temple back to the mattress. She keeps her eyes pinned shut until the mattress softly dips in front of her, and Dog pants in her face. He lays down, curling into her, Johanna automatically wraps an arm around him.

“I thought you were done with work at five?” Virginia quietly asks as the mattress settles behind Johanna.

“F-four,” Johanna stutters.

“Here,” Virginia instructs with the sound of her hand patting at her thigh.

Johanna doesn’t need to turn and look to understand the instruction; she just lifts her head up and lets Virginia guide her head to rest in her lap. The hood is slowly pulled away, and fingers lightly trace through her sweaty hair.

“I’m sorry, I thought it was five. I wanted to be here when you returned so we could avoid this.”

“Avoid what?” Johanna grumbles.

“Making you freakout and think I left.”

“Pretty pathetic, huh?” Johanna states.

“No, it isn’t. You thought I was dead for months,” Virginia logically reassures. “Just because you could rationalize that my bag was still here and that I told you last night I’m not leaving doesn’t mean it will automatically sink in your head.”

“Yeah, that’s why I am stupid for it.”

“No, just human. I was the same way your first day of work, I pretty much sat on the porch all day,” her voice is soft enough that Johanna risks glancing at her from the corner of her eye. Virginia isn’t looking at her, eyes trained on the door, “Even with all the logic in the world, I couldn’t control the dread I felt.”

“So much for being stronger together,” Johanna mumbles into the fabric covering Virginia’s thigh.

“We are, it just means we are scared of going back to the feeling of the last year,” she says and glances down, her gaze softening at Johanna’s eyes trained on her. “Of losing each other again. I get it, Jo.”

“Why would losing me even be bad for you though? I can’t be good for you,” Johanna challenges and willing herself to lay flat on her back to stare directly up in time to witness Virginia looking at her like she’s stupid.

“If I lost you, I’d have nothing. I’d lose my best friend, any future I look forward to, the last person who truly knows me,” she sincerely states.

Johanna sighs and rubs her face aggressively as she sits up and positions herself to sit parallel from Virginia. Her hands return to petting Dog’s fur when Virginia continues speaking.

“You’re the funniest and strongest person I know. We both challenge each other to be better, we always have.”

“But how can you be sure of that? I didn’t challenge you to be better yesterday,” Johanna counters and glares down at where the comforter has wrinkled to add, “I just hurt you.”

“You did,” Virginia says simply, like she’s answering a yes or no question. Not like Johanna probably destroyed her for several hours yesterday until Peeta was able to clear things up for her. “Just like how I hurt you the other day with the yarn incident. It’s like you said, we are on a learning curve with this. Both of us have obviously changed from all the shit we went through.”

“So how can you know this changed version of me is good for you?”

“Is this changed version of me good for you?” Virginia parrots with a bemused smirk, already knowing Johanna’s answer.

“Obviously, it’s you.” Johanna impatiently grumbles and rolls her eyes.

“Exactly,” Virginia whispers, she reaches across the space between them. Her hand grasps at Johanna’s knee, offering a reassuring squeeze, “So I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you got back. Do you need some time to recalibrate before we talk about yesterday?”

“You aren’t impatient for me to clear things up and for you to rightfully chew me out?” Johanna jokes bleakly.

“I waited a year for you, Johanna. I can wait a few hours if it means we’ll have a more open conversation,” she offers with a shy smile. “That way we can avoid hurting each other.”

Johanna finally removes her hands from Dog’s hair to reach out for Virginia, her hands fall on both sides of her face. She kneels to cross the space between them, pressing a light kiss against Virginia’s lips. The shaky, exhale against her mouth makes the panicked parts of herself slacken.

“Thank you,” Johanna whispers when hazel eyes meet her own.

The crooked grin she receives in response feels like everything, and it somehow eases over that rancid, gnawing fear of losing Virginia. Maybe because for the first time, she doesn’t need to live in fear anymore.

---

“I could only think about Jack and how he never would have had to face a reaping if he hadn’t died,” Johanna dully pipes up after chewing on the words like dry crackers for several hours. She’s returned to her position of laying her head in Virginia’s lap after a brief, quiet dinner that Virginia went downstairs to make that she forced Johanna to eat.

“During the vote?” Virginia quietly asks as her hands still their movement on Johanna’s scalp.

She nods, her cheek bumping against the branding scar above Virginia’s knee.

“Snow’s granddaughter was born the same year as him, you know?”

“I know,” Virginia murmurs.

They return to quiet and Johanna is annoyingly thinking through her words before speaking them – a skill she has very little practice in.

“How do you feel that it didn’t go through?”

“I don’t,” she shrugs and absentmindedly traces a finger along the pattern of the blanket she lays upon. “I feel nothing about it.”

“Like indifferent?”

“I guess, I don’t know if I was ever that upset it didn’t go through. I just didn’t care. But I never cared or felt guilt about the way I voted, Finnick had just died and I was so angry. It felt right to vote yes when Coin proposed it and made us vote immediately,” Johanna mumbles. She sighs, “It’s probably why I was so twisted about telling you about it, because I don’t feel guilt in the way I should. And I don’t know if I would’ve felt guilty if it did go through.”

“But you felt guilty about me finding out?”

“Yeah, Peeta was so betrayed he gave me a pouty silent treatment for days,” Johanna says and reluctantly turns to lay on her back so she can look up at Virginia, whose hands haven’t remained idle as they run through Johanna’s hair.

“Well, he was a tribute in two games.”

“And I get why he was angry, hell even Annie was unhappy with me about it for a few hours. But none of them were from there, from the Capitol. You were, even if it wasn’t voting for a reaping, I knew it would hurt you.”

“It hurts less knowing more context than how you told me last night,” Virginia offers, when she finally glances down at Johanna it makes Johanna quickly snap her eyes shut to avoid staring or meeting her eye.

“If it went through though, you probably wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

“You don’t speak for me,” Virginia firmly states after her hands still their movements. “And there’s no point in thinking in hypotheticals of what didn’t happen. But chances are if Katniss hadn’t killed Coin, there would’ve still been dissent within the government. Yes, the war ended essentially in a coup by District 13, but there were other rebels in the government at that point. Chances are she wouldn’t have held a throne in the same way Snow did. People were likely already trying to figure out ways to impeach or remove her before Katniss took it into their own hands.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better? Katniss was barely acquitted.”

“No, that’s based on my conversations I had with Plutarch after my tribunal. Or do you really think one seventeen-year-old was the only person in the country that could see through Coin?”

“Fair point.”

“You were alone and grieving and had no time to think it through. Impulsive anger has always been a weakness of yours,” Virginia offers. It makes Johanna open her eyes to glare up at her. “I understand why you voted that way, okay? I am not mad about that. At all.”

“Are you still mad about last night?”

Virginia contemplatively looks away and shrugs, “Maybe I should be, but I don’t think I am. I suck at being mad at you.”

“Memory proves that not to be correct,” Johanna jokes. She slowly sits up and smirks, “That first half of our first mission was so long, because you were so mad at me.”

“That’s because you were being cruel, and you aren’t now,” Virginia shrugs. “And our relationship is very different, I had never even thought of you romantically back then.”

Johanna bumps her shoulder and blinks rapidly to somehow sarcastically flutter her eyelashes while smirking, “But you do now?”

Virginia rolls her eyes and bumps Johanna’s shoulder back, and reaches down to clasp Johanna’s hand, “Well now I feel like you’re just fishing for compliments by asking stupid questions.”

“Maybe,” she chuckles and glares down at where their hands are clasped. She presses down on the two stumps where Virginia’s fingers used to be, annoyed by the swirling insecurity she’s been dealing with – a very foreign and gross emotion. “Didn’t know if last night was forgivable but still could’ve changed things?”

“It didn’t.”

When Johanna doesn’t look up at Virginia’s words, a pair of soft lips press against Johanna’s temple and remain there for several beats. Automatically her eyes flutter shut, and each bounding beat of her heart echoes through her body, sending warmth through her that helps melt away the annoying panic.

“Good,” Johanna mumbles when Virginia pulls away. “Can we go to bed now? This has been fucking exhausting and I just stopped feeling hungover.”

“Of course,” Virginia warmly says as she gets up from the bed to pull the covers back.

And the relief is like sleep syrup in how quickly Johanna falls asleep with her cheek pressed into the back of Virginia’s shoulder as she clings onto her tightly like a backpack with the thought of: I didn’t lose her, ringing around in her mind.

---

Johanna’s head doctors are decent enough to not give her some medical form of ‘I told you so,’ about the whole vote thing. They could if they wanted though, because within the next few days things feel normal with Virginia again.

If anything they feel even better, emotions are stronger and more stable because there are no secrets between them and no guilt hanging over Johanna’s head.

She is in her own version of good spirits by the time the night of the dinner Peeta had planned comes. Johanna even wears the crochet shirt Virginia made her, which is a smart choice from the way Virginia grabs the collar of it to kiss Johanna stupid when she emerges from the bathroom wearing it.

“Wow,” Johanna chuckles out once she pulls away for air. “I look that hot in the clothes you made for me?”

Virginia rolls her eyes, “Shut up, it’s just nice to see you in it. I’m glad you’re wearing it, because you like it.”

“Of course, I like it,” Johanna states obviously. “Now let’s go eat dinner with the crabbiest son of a bitch in this district.”

The smirk tugging on Virginia’s mouth as she opens it makes Johanna jut out a faux threatening finger.

“If you are about to say that is me, thus grouping me in with Haymitch, I will make you sleep on the porch.”

Ever since the night when Virginia said that after the blowout, it has become their own stupid joking threat to each other. As if either would give up the opportunity to share a bed again, even though they both desperately need it to sleep somewhat decently.

As they clamber down the stairs with Dog on their heels, Johanna forces herself to wipe away the stupid grin Virginia always pulls out of her. It easily wears off when she meets Haymitch’s eye when rounding into the dining room as he belches after chugging a very full wine glass.

“Johanna,” he says in greeting while lifting his empty glass up in greeting. “You’ve got a good one there, your girl brought wine.”

“You did?” Johanna turns to look up to Virginia with a confused expression.

“Yeah, bought some in town today.”

Johanna hums and plops into a chair, “Yes, and I’m sure you wanted Haymitch to chug it all down too.”

“I bought three bottles for a reason,” Virginia responds as she settles into the seat beside her.

Haymitch tosses his head back and cackles, “Smart girl.”

Johanna just rolls her eyes exaggeratedly and has a moment where she meets Katniss’s eye while she is also doing the same thing at Haymitch’s antics.

Overall, it’s a good dinner, despite the normality of it almost feeling weird.

Her favorite thing ends up being Virginia accidentally getting wine drunk on half a tiny glass.

(Peeta’s cheese rolls he makes are a close second though).

Virginia is captivating to watch, somehow still poised and charming while her eyes gloss over a bit. Or the way that she talks with her hands more as the wine affects her more.

And as the meal goes on, her eyes drift and stay on Johanna more and more. Whenever Virginia isn’t the one talking, she’ll usually lay her hand on Johanna’s thigh. Once she starts doing that, Johanna decides to join in on this whole wine with dinner thing.

“Okay, that axe story you told the whole Capitol is only half true,” Johanna indignantly argues to Virginia who smugly smirks at her when Haymitch rambles about Effie gossiping once about the new District 7 escort disarming Johanna Mason.

“Yeah, the truth was more embarrassing for you,” Virginia chuckles into her glass.

“And the truth would’ve also blown your damn cover,” Johanna jokes.

“So those rumors were partially true, didn’t think you were the drunken axe wielding maniac type,” Haymitch deadpans sarcastically.

“Worse, she wasn’t even drunk,” Virginia warmly says while bumping Johanna’s shoulder. “But you weren’t at your best, so saying drunk was a fair enough assessment.”

“Exactly, if I charged at you with an axe now, it’d be more successful,” Johanna jokes. She wipes at her face with a napkin and looks at Virginia, “You know at first when you showed up to that meeting, I couldn’t even tell it was you.”

“I could tell, really a testament to how awful the Capitol makeup trends are,” Virginia quips. This draws a bemused smile out of Katniss.

Johanna rolls her eyes, “You were in a literal lumberjack disguise. You were so dramatic too. Like you did some poser reveal where you like took your hat off and,” Johanna dramatically shakes out her own hair mockingly, “shook your hair out.”

“You really want to start throwing out quips about my dramatics that day?”

“Okay, brainless, I thought you were arresting my mentor and sister.”

“Yeah, it really seemed that way from how Archer sat calmly on his ass the whole time.” Virginia teases.

“To be fair, he would take like thirty full seconds to even stand up,” Johanna fondly smiles.

“He let you attack me to get your energy out; I had never wanted to drop kick an old man so bad.”

“I can see why she’s a good fit for you, Johanna,” Haymitch loudly grunts at her. He is chewing his food while speaking. Nasty.

Peeta brightly smiles, “Yeah, it’s like a calm spunk to balance our your-“

Johanna cuts Peeta off with a smart smirk, “My aggressive spunk.”

Then Johanna gets an entertaining idea and she looks directly at Katniss and jokingly lies in a deadly serious tone, “That’s how she lost one of her fingers, wrong end of the axe blade while he let me get my energy out. She disarmed me, but not perfectly.”

Katniss squints, appraising if Johanna is being serious or not.

But Peeta is poorly suppressing a smirk and Johanna begins chuckling at her own joke. Virginia is laughing so brightly, and it makes the room feel so lively.

“Do not believe her. She didn’t even get a proper swing or hit in,” Virginia says to Katniss. She turns and gives Johanna a warm mirthful smirk, shaking her head, “Nah, this work is courtesy of the Capitol. It’s a good thing they left the most important ones,” and she dramatically flips Johanna off with both hands.

Johanna is laughing so hard she’s wiping at tears in the corner of her eyes. She just shakes her head, and okay, maybe she can dial it back with joking about Virginia’s loss of fingers. But then she thinks of a dumb joke at Virginia’s expense that is still flirty that will steer the conversation to a less bleak topic.

“Did you ever play the Ten Fingers game in the Capitol? If so, you’d be at a disadvantage now.”

“Eight fingers,” Virginia giggles while holding her fork to her mouth. “But yeah, we played that. Called it Never Have I Ever though.”

Katniss repeats it slowly, “Never Have I Ever?”

Johanna groans, “Come on, don’t tell me you guys didn’t have a little fun around here as kids.”

It turns out Peeta and Haymitch also know the game. It’s only Katniss who never played, which given her bit of a wet blanket personality really tracks.

And that’s how in the most confusing turn of events yet, Johanna finds herself playing the game after dinner with the star-crossed lovers of District 12. Haymitch grumbles something about that being his cue to leave.

Johanna thinks it’s the charming banter of Peeta and Virginia that jokingly leads them all into deciding to play.

Before they are about to start, Virginia fixes Johanna with a stern glare, “We will only play if you behave.”

She rolls her eyes, “There goes my suggestion for Katniss’s first turn to be ‘never have I ever been held as a prisoner of war,’ it would’ve gotten all of us.”

“Johanna,” Virginia giggles exasperatedly. “I will make you sleep on the porch.”

“There’s other rooms here she could use,” Katniss begins.

“Nope, porch.” Virginia insists seriously.

Johanna scoffs and leans conspiratorially towards the couple on the couch across from them, “She thinks I can’t survive a night on a porch.” But she relents with a sigh, “Whatever, I will actively attempt to not be a bummer. But since we’re all grown-ups here, I am playing the game the adult way, a drinking game. Going to go get more wine. Anyone else?”

As Johanna gets up, Virginia silently juts her empty glass up.  

“I didn’t know you two partied,” Johanna greets Peeta as he enters the kitchen behind her.

“Neither of us really drink,” Peeta softly says. “I just came to get lemonade for me and Katniss.”

Johanna hums knowingly, “Yeah, I’m sure that’s the only reason why you tagged along.”

She can see Peeta’s smug smirk, and she wants to punch his shoulder the way she would when her sisters used to tease her. She just knows that Peeta noticed Johanna silently getting Virginia’s drink for her and agreeing to behave is a remarkable feat. It can only mean Johanna’s feelings are so pathetically obvious for Virginia.

“I think she’s becoming Katniss’s favorite person,” Peeta begins with a hint of teasing.

“Yeah, yeah, because she’s the only person who keeps my assholery in line.” Johanna rolls her eyes, “Whatever.”

“It’s good to see you so happy though!” Peeta adds. “Would you ever consider having her join us for another book session? It may make talking about people easier.”

Johanna hums, it’s a good idea. But she grabs a glass for herself and brushes past him, “Sure. Now let’s hurry up making drinks, she’s almost as charming as Finnick Odair, but I don’t think even she can keep small talk with Katniss for that long.”

Peeta gives a stern glare, and Johanna acquiesces, “Sorry, I just have to. It’s how I show affection, this is how my siblings and me were.”

“And how you and your girlfriend are,” Peeta quietly teases as he pours two glasses.

Johanna refills both wine glasses, “Woah, slow your roll there, buddy. We haven’t had that talk yet.”

Peeta bemusedly rolls his eyes at her and returns back to the sitting room. On his heels, Johanna plops back on the couch. She leans further into Virginia than she was before. Dog is passed out on Virginia’s lap and Johanna didn’t know she could ever feel this again.

Just a night with friends, with Virginia, and her dog.

Something happy, a moment that is her living rather than just surviving.

Johanna smirks up at Virginia and bumps her shoulder, “Never have I ever pickpocketed someone.”

And Johanna enjoys the surprise on Katniss and Peeta’s faces. Both have seen the impossible of a Capitol escort flipping someone off at the dinner table, but Virginia doesn’t look like she’d ever be capable of thinking about pickpocketing someone, too sweet and earnest.

She scoffs, “Unfair, you can’t go for spy low-hanging fruit.”

Johanna furrows her brow, “Huh? I was thinking about the time you did it when you were like ten.”

“Oh,” Virginia smiles warmly at her and chuckles. “I thought you meant like in general. I did it decently often at parties. But yes, ten-year-old me was a natural.”

“Johanna, I’m surprised you haven’t,” Katniss smally teases.

Johanna is impressed, the kid is awful at her sarcastic banter, but she’s beginning to understand the language of Johanna Mason. She sips her drink and dramatically rolls her eyes, her words dripping with sarcasm, “Come on, I was a scrappy kid, but a thief? I would never.”

“Are we just going to breeze past the ten-years-old part of it?” Peeta jokes.

They fall into the game. Johanna is impressed with Katniss’s game of immediately sniping all three with a ‘never have I ever smoked weedling.’ But unsurprisingly, Johanna is on track to being the first out with Virginia tight on her heels (this is playing as if she had all her fingers despite Johanna’s witty joke from earlier). Peeta’s also down to one hand, and Katniss only has two fingers down.

The poor girl hasn’t even been on a proper date.

When Katniss says this, Johanna drops her casual hold on Virgina’s arm to grab the pillow behind her back. She whips it hard at Peeta’s head, it bounces lightly off his face with a thump, “Come on, man. Get your act together.”

And for some reason this genuinely confuses Katniss for a while. Johanna thinks Katniss is forever convinced Johanna hates her. But then Katniss genuinely smiles at her.

Johanna ends up losing spectacularly, getting out first and finishing two glasses in the span of the game. Virginia finishes her glass and is out one round after Johanna. It then becomes a disgustingly (sweet) annoying, yet entertaining ping pong of Katniss and Peeta being competitive and hyper specific to try and win. They just look like two teenagers who haven’t been through hell.

But Katniss wins with about five fingers to spare.

They spend another hour after that playing cards before turning in for the night.

“I didn’t know I could be this happy,” Virginia hums into Johanna’s temple as soon as the door shuts behind her and Johanna wraps her arms around her waist.

Johanna noses into Virginia’s neck and takes in the sweet scent of her perfume. It finally was delivered by train yesterday, and Johanna missed the scent so much. She may casually brush her lips against her skin. Not kissing, not doing anything intentionally.

“I can’t even make fun of you for that one,” Johanna murmurs softly.

“So insufferable and charming, fuck. I missed you.”

“Yeah, you don’t even know much I missed you,” Johanna hums. “For obvious reasons. I’m glad you’re stick kicking, Virgin”

“I- Johanna,” Virginia awkwardly pulls back a little and blinks down at her.

Her lids are heavy, slow, yet so full of life and something else. She doesn’t even make a comment at Johanna’s teasing nickname. Instead, she looks at Johanna’s face as if the world’s most complex equation is stamped on her forehead.

Virginia goes through a range of visible consternation before pecking Johanna’s cheek so quickly it’s over before it started.

She pulls Johanna back in for a gentle hug and quietly murmurs into her hairline, “I don’t want to scare you, you don’t need to say anything back or even acknowledge it.” Johanna’s throat coldly tightens in anticipation. She feels her heartbeat in her clenched teeth, but she softens under Virginia’s soft hands holding her firmly at the small of her back. “I think I might love you.”

“Might?” Johanna huffs in mock offense. But she can’t hear anything over her bounding heartbeat. Her body is hot, and she buries her face in Virginia’s neck. She can feel the heat off her own cheeks seeping into Virginia’s skin, “Good to know.”

It’s more than good to know. It feels like everything.

“Now I need to go see a toilet about a me,” Virginia giggles as she disentangles herself from Johanna’s arms.

Johanna smirks bemusedly, “You’re hammered.”

Virginia tries to give her a scathing glare, but there’s still a softness that hasn’t left her gaze. She flips Johanna off for the second time tonight with a smirk, “It’s the first time I drank since everything. Turns out losing almost half of my body weight and a ton of muscle mass makes the tolerance take a hit.”

It’s said with a lightheartedness to it, but it makes Johanna frown. They’ve only been reunited for under a week, but Johanna can easily see how much the transformation of her body from strong and athletic to malnourished and lanky has taken a toll on her mind.

“In the end it was two glasses of wine that managed to take you out,” Johanna half-heartedly jokes. It does the trick and makes Virginia laugh, and she then starts shifting uncomfortably.

Dancing awkwardly distributing her weight from one leg to another, Virginia backpedals to the bathroom door, “Okay, I really do need to go to the bathroom.”

“I’m going to go get us waters,” Johanna announces.

She thinks she hears Virginia chirp excitedly about how smart Johanna is. She snorts to herself and shakes her head, racing to the kitchen.

Frankly, her heart is still bounding in her ears and making her teeth vibrate.

It’s a mixed bag to hear.

When was the last time someone even said they loved Johanna Mason? Archer in his suicide note? The last time she probably heard it was the day Katherine attempted to escape. Like three and a half years ago.

She grips on the edges of the sink until her white knuckles reflect the moonlight coming in through the window. And she’s on edge from the revelation of Virginia maybe loving Johanna, but the sink in front of her is a whole new challenge.

Suck it up, you loser. It’s just water. You literally need it to survive.

Pinching her eyes shut, Johanna flips on the tap and quickly shoves her index fingers in her ears to drown out the sound. There’s nobody around so she lets herself be pathetic. After a few shuttering breaths, and with chattering teeth, she unplugs her ears and rapidly fills the glasses.

Upon returning to the room, she can hear Virginia humming through the bathroom door, doing whatever pre-bedtime routine she does in there. Johanna changes out of her clothes, ultimately opting for a pair of soft shorts and the sweatshirt of Virginia’s she keeps stealing.

When Virginia reemerges with her hair pulled back and in her own pajamas, her drunken smile turns into a wicked smirk at the sight of Johanna in her sweatshirt. She crosses the room in about two strides and hooks her fingers in the pocket to pull Johanna forward.

Johanna smirks against Virginia’s insistent lips. She smells of mint, but her movements are less precise although more enthusiastic.

“Okay, drunky, that’s enough for you,” Johanna mutters as she pulls away.

Virginia who was beginning to kiss down Johanna’s jaw makes a noise that only could be described as pouting as she buries her face in Johanna’s neck and holds her tightly.

“That’s no fun.”

“Yeah, well you’re hammered, babe,” Johanna drawls sarcastically.

Virginia rapidly yanks her head back to look at Johanna with wide eyes. It isn’t until Virginia’s jaw drops into a shit eating grin that Johanna realizes the term of endearment that slipped out, no matter how sarcastic and deadpanned it sounded.

“Babe?” Virginia sings and wiggles her shoulders.

Johanna groans and tosses her head back, “Ugh, no, don’t make a whole thing out of it. I was being an ass.”

“Noo, you meant it.”

“Yeah, just like how you meant it when you said you maybe think you could love me,” Johanna teases, heat swelling up her throat as she repeats the words aloud. It makes the tip of her tongue and lips tingle just saying the word in front of Virginia.

But Virginia’s delighted, drunken expression sobers into one of worry, “I’m not going to scare you off with that one, am I?”

“No, Virginia,” Johanna reassures while reaching up to grab her face. “You’ll never scare me off.”

“Good!” Virginia chirps and disentangles herself from Johanna to plop onto her side of the bed. “I vote you sleep on top of me like a blanket.”

“Since when are you such a needy drunk?” Johanna grumbles as she pulls her blankets aside to crawl into bed beside her. “And you said you don’t sleep on your back anymore.”

“Yeah, but that was before I had a Johanna blanket.”

“I’m probably heavier than you now,” Johanna counters.

Virginia rolls her eyes, “Blah, blah, I’m built like a twig now, whatever give me a break. You’re short as shit, I at least weigh the same as you.”

“Such a brat,” Johanna mutters.

“Oh shush, you love it.”

And maybe Johanna isn’t quite ready to admit that aloud, but she does.

And surprisingly, that revelation doesn’t make her want to run.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay in this update, I was dealing with major writers block and some distractions with my own dog. I also felt unsure about adding the end scene of the post-war normal night of playing Never Have I Ever, because I was like hmm is this too modern or could this simple game have stuck thru modern times until Panem. I decided to go with it, because it seems like something that could have been in Capitol culture and probably normal socialized district kids (sorry, not you Katniss).

Thanks so much for reading! I seriously am beyond grateful for interactions and love hearing your feedback, i promise i am getting around to replying to more comments that has also just been grouped into my writers block lol. But thank you, the kudos, bookmarks, comments keep me going!

Up next in Chapter 19 - A select few citizens are set to be given a highly prestigious presidential award for their role in the war effort, Virginia is set to be one of those recipients to improve the districts perception on Capitol citizens before a reparation bill is about to go through. It means a week-long trip to the Capitol, that Johanna reluctantly decides is the better option than being separated for that long.

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

Summary:

A trip to the Capitol

TW: PTSD, body dysmorphia

Johanna trudges up the steps of the porch and into the house. She keeps Dog on his leash until she reaches the top of the stairs. She had a long, grueling, and extremely sweaty day at work. It means she either needs to change all her clothes or force herself to shower. Likely the latter, which automatically makes her stomach twist and her mouth water.

Noises of Virginia huffing and grumbling about something drifts through the closed bedroom door. Johanna swings it open, question for Virginia to join her by sitting on the toilet seat for moral support on her lips.

But something glints light as it flies directly at her once the door opens. Her body automatically reacts like a knife has been thrown at her, she keeps her hold on the door handle and pivots her foot back to stand perpendicular to the bedroom. Her heart spikes and more sweat gathers on her skin, for a moment it is like she can feel the imposing, claustrophobic, wet heat of her last arena.

“Oh fuck! Jo, I’m so sorry,” Virginia calls out before the tiny thud of the object echoes on the wooden floor in the hall.

A metal crochet hook rolls to a stop between the crack of two floorboards. She crouches down and snags the thing before carefully entering their room. She shoots Virginia a tentative look, biting down some smartass quip she nearly automatically spits out.

And she’s glad she had the wherewithal to not run her mouth for once in her life based on how Virginia looks.

Well, she looks fine, great even, rather it’s the mass of tangled yarn in her lap and wrapped around her fingers that looks bad. Considering Virginia has nearly mastered the hobby scarily fast to the point she can crochet blindly and rapidly, the messy creation and angry throw of the hook mean something is wrong.

“Crocheting emergency?” Johanna offers as she leans down to unclip Dog from his leash; she pats the end of the bed with her palm. “Up.”

Dog listens and launches himself up to the bed. He runs to Virginia and sets his head in her lap with his tail rapidly wagging. It makes Virginia finally drop the tangled yarn in her grasp in favor of petting his fur.

“I didn’t know you were about to walk in when I threw it. I didn’t hear you. I was just…” Virginia puffs out her cheeks and exhales loudly.

“Frustrated?” Johanna knowingly asks with a small smile as she extends the hook out to her.

“Yeah.”

“Gotta say, that is not your best work,” Johanna teases when she looks at the creation.

Virginia snorts, “You can say that again.”

Johanna’s eyes flit to the bathroom and then back to Virginia, contemplating if she should just change her clothes rather than shower, “Uh, did you want to talk about it?”

“I need a minute,” Virginia sighs while glaring into her lap, “Many minutes actually.”

“Alone?” Johanna asks. Her eyes hesitantly flit to the bathroom again, “You’ll probably want me to shower anyways, I reek.”

“That works.”

Johanna doesn’t reply, just shuffles into the bathroom like she is about to be sent to execution. She doesn’t want to take her medication for her panic symptoms because it would mean waiting half an hour.

Ultimately, she decides to run a scalding hot bath. The water she was tortured with was never hot, let alone warm. It was always frigid. And her method of switching the shower on and off between steps usually means a few awful seconds of cold water at first.

Grinding her teeth and huffing through her nose, she manages to submerge herself in the tub, avoiding getting her face wet or from fully going under. Her skin stings and burns in a way different than the memories. It’s maybe five minutes in total, but she emerges from the tub clean and with pink skin. She aggressively wipes herself dry with four towels instead of her usual three. Then she forces herself to lean naked against the sink and wash her face there.

That results in two more towels being used, one to wipe her face and hair and the other to get all the water that dripped down her neck.

The pile of damp towels sits in a clump on the floor, and Johanna groans upon realizing that she used all her towels and didn’t bring a change of clothes.

“Fuck,” Johanna mutters. She tries calling out Virginia’s name three times to no reply. The partial hearing loss is the hardest part for Johanna to adjust to with Virginia since Johanna is naturally impatient and easy to frustrate. She pinches the bridge of her nose and grunts out a few times before creaking open the door and sticking her head out the gap.

“Virginia,” she calls.

This finally breaks through, and Virginia looks up from where she is trying to detangle her mess of yarn.

“You may want to shut your eyes, so I don’t flash you,” Johanna glibly remarks.

It’s not that Johanna feels self-conscious, not even as bad as that first morning when Virginia helped her shower. In fact, she wouldn’t mind if Virginia saw more of her, but not in this context – with bright pink and red skin from the near boiling water, sweat forming on her clean skin from still being overheated from work, and the way that despite the heat, Johanna is pathetically shaking like a leaf.

 “Okay,” Virginia easily replies and holds a hand in front of her eyes.

Johanna walks out and pulls on the first shirt she yanks free from the closet, “You’re good.”

After pulling on underwear and a pair of shorts, she casually plunks herself across the foot of the bed, propping herself up on her elbow and asking, “Bad day?”

“It was fine until,” Virginia rambles and then groans in irritation and throws the yarn onto the ground. “I got a call.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“It was Plutarch, so that immediately ruined my day,” she continues. She stares down at her hands and barely acknowledges Johanna putting her hand on her leg. “It’s so dumb.”

“Well don’t keep me waiting, I’m on the edge of my seat,” she deadpans. This at least makes Virginia glance up at her and one corner of her mouth pulls up slightly.

“I’m receiving some stupid presidential award, getting a medal for it next week.”

Usually awards and medals are supposed to evoke pride or happiness, but she says it as dully as Johanna felt when the victor’s crown was placed on her head all those years ago.

“I’d say congrats, but you don’t seem too excited.”

“It’s an obvious political ploy to smooth tensions in Panem. I think four other people are receiving it too, for displaying integral bravery for the war effort or whatever,” she grumbles.

“Sounds like more propaganda bullshit, can’t you deny it?”

Virginia shrugs smally, “I didn’t ask. But I can see why they picked me, to help improve people in the districts’ perception of other Capitol citizens. There’s apparently some reparation tax bill President Paylor is passing that is taxing the Capitol for everything. People in the districts are unhappy that it isn’t a huge, ubiquitous lump sum but rather percentages based on income. People are stuck on the fact that about 50% of the population is in the two lower tax brackets and only 1% of the population is getting massive taxes. Wealth inequality wasn’t that severe within the districts so I know people just fully can’t wrap their head around how much money will come from the richest-“

Virginia cuts herself off when Johanna makes a fake snoring noise and acts like she is nodding off at the boring details.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Virginia observes.

Johanna opens her eyes and smirks, “Sorry, you just said the word ‘taxes’ and a bunch of percentages, that shit automatically puts me to sleep. But I get it, I didn’t know poor people in the Capitol existed until you told me.”

“Exactly that’s why I’ll go through with it,” Virginia huffs.

“Okay?” Johanna slowly sits up, “But it’s upsetting you.”

“I don’t want some bullshit medal. It doesn’t undo the awful things I had to do in my life. Someone who reaped children even as a spy shouldn’t be celebrated.”

Johanna scoots closer and kneels beside Virginia, placing a hand atop hers so she will stop scraping at her fingers. She stiffly offers, “You’ve done so much good.”

She’s always appreciated Virginia’s moral compass being rooted in fairness and just treating people like humans. It was a trait the rebels tried to brainwash out of her, but it remained and now that goodness is being rewarded by the people who tried to erase it. It’s unfair to her.

And Johanna feels discomfort, because she isn’t like Virginia. She isn’t good, she’s lived in the moral gray area her whole life. It’s not like Johanna joined the rebellion out of noble righteousness, it was out of vengeance and grief. Not to mention the awful things she’s done in the last year in the name of grief, things she still can’t bring herself to fully that bad about.

“You don’t need to try and make me feel better,” Virginia mutters. “I had to reap you, it made me irredeemable.”

“That wasn’t your fault or choice.”

“I,” Virginia lifts her head to argue, but just looks exhausted. She sighs weakly, “Yeah, whatever. I guess, I don’t feel all that appreciated or heroic after the way they treated me once I was freed.”

Virginia blindly reaches out for Johanna’s hand, and Johanna delivers a squeeze and places their tangled hands atop Dog’s fur from where he is cuddling into Virginia’s side.

“When I woke up from my coma, I was cuffed to my bed,” Virginia emptily states and then dryly laughs. “I could barely sit up; I almost had to fully learn how to walk again. What the fuck could I have done that required cuffing me?”

“Fuck,” Johanna breathes out, poorly disguising her anger. This is new information to her; it isn’t like Virginia divulged many details of what it was like when she awoke from coma and had to wait months for a trial. “That’s so fucking stupid.”

“I was a rebel spy that was a prisoner of war, it was procedure to ensure I didn’t turn and become an informant,” Virginia automatically replies like it was hardwired into her. “The tribunal was so… detailed. Uncensored and aggressive. They made me relive every maiming, every beating, every detail. They made me watch the deaths of every District 7 kid I reaped. They made me watch Blight die so many times. I had to watch you in that arena over and over-“

Virginia’s ramble breaks off into a sob and Johanna automatically opens her arms to her. She falls into Johanna, her hot tears staining Johanna’s shirt.

“It’s like they were torturing you rather than trying you,” Johanna mutters without thought.

“They were, I was trained to lie impeccably so it’s a way they interrogate to see if my stories ever changed. To detect the tiniest tells of me possibly lying. Even the half of the tribunal that was newly appointed and on my side were thorough,” her words are muffled into Johanna’s chest. She just tightens her hold on her and rests her chin atop Virginia’s head, “I’m the only person from my entire training program that wasn’t compromised in custody, I was the only one who survived.”

“Shit, like overall?”

“No, just out of those captured, some remained undetected during the war,” Virginia whimpers. “And they knew at a minimum we were friends and worked well together. Only a handful of people wondered if there was more from how you acted in District 13. So they kept replaying the part before you went into the jabberjay section…”

They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love.

Her own voice echoes and replays in her skull.

Johanna’s stomach drops, how shitty was that for Virginia to hear? The girl who said she might love Johanna. The action even makes Virginia feel it.

“I know you didn’t anything about me; I knew that. But they were trying to prove to me you didn’t see me as any friend or anything, since they knew I was tortured in front of you, I don’t know to make me crack or admit to something else falsely for your sake.”

“Fuck,” Johanna’s voice is strangled. “I didn’t know you’d…I didn’t think you were watching.”

Virginia pulls her head back and looks at Johanna evenly, automatically, Johanna reaches up to wipe away some of her tears, “You really don’t need to explain yourself to me. I knew all that. I knew you could say that, because Snow had no ammo on us. And even so, But it was the people who wanted me dead twisting it.”

“Vee, I’m sorry,” Johanna weakly states. “I knew if they made your voice even play, I’d be able to tell it was fake, because your fake accent and being torture-proof.”

“Jo, I know. I know. And even so, you lost your entire family, your friends, Daisy, just having me can’t replace all that loss.” Her own chest heaves out an uneven sob when Virginia presses her forehead against Johanna’s to punctuate her point.

“I only survived that stupid arena and the awful torture mainly out of spite, but also for you,” Johanna barely recognizes how small her own voice sounds. She’s always spoken loud and had a voice that carries, but it’s almost inaudible as she adds. “I didn’t relapse, because of you and even then I thought you were dead.”

“I know, and it just made me angrier. I survived their awful tribunal. Even if a lot of the judges were from District 13, I felt betrayed by my own people. Like I had nobody loyal to me except for you. I was a used pawn to them, at that point it wouldn’t have mattered if I was executed or not.”

“So did Plutarch do nothing to help even though you like you claimed he did. What the fuck about Paylor?”

“No, they both were the reason I survived it,” Virginia quietly says as she pulls back. “In his own fucked way, he cares about me. He’s the reason it was such a fight rather than an outright execution. And Paylor is one of the fairest people I’ve met, she couldn’t control that tribunal.”

“And now she wants to use you as another piece in some propaganda,” Johanna grits.

“Not necessarily, it was Plutarch’s idea for me to be a recipient. But they both think it was also my way to get more truth out there for a better future,” Virginia explains evenly. Her eyes flit away from Johanna’s, “I think it’s some way of their own guilt for what I went through, things that weren’t in their control. But it just feels like a hollow ribbon.”

“So turn it down if you need to,” Johanna insists.

Virginia shakes her head, “No, I have to. If anything, to help the people in the Capitol that opposed the games but didn’t have the wealth or power to do anything to stop it.”

“Then you know what, fuck whatever bullshit narrative they want you to play out. You know what I – the most amazing, hot, and closest person in your life who doesn’t see you as a pawn – thinks you should do?”

Virginia lifts her gaze, hesitantly looking at Johanna through long lashes. The corner of her mouth turns up in amusement, “Did you just manage to stroke your own ego while trying to comfort me?”

“Hey, you know I’m very bad at these comforting things. We’re usually in opposite roles.”

Virginia’s tiny smirk turns into a smile. She squeezes Johanna’s hand, “You’re doing great, keep going.”

“Call their hypocrisy out, don’t wash away or soften the atrocities. Don’t be their prop, just be you. You’re smart enough for it to still be unifying for everyone. And if they give you a stage and mic, use your voice,” Johanna states.

 “So, if I gave a speech, could I give you a shoutout?” Virginia shyly asks.

“You better,” Johanna teases.

Virginia’s hands shake and her lips quaver as she softly presses a kiss against Johanna’s lips. She keeps a hold on Johanna’s face, barely pulling away and steadily looking at her in a way that makes Johanna’s heart launch up the back of her throat. “Thank you, Jo.”

“You didn’t even tell me the name for the dumb medal,” Johanna teases with a smirk after a beat.

Virginia’s cheeks redden and she rolls her eyes, “Because I knew you’d make fun of it.”

Johanna waves an impatient hand.

“Medal of Unifying Valor.”

That makes Johanna snort out a laugh and Virginia joins her, “Definitely not the smoothest name.”

Virginia lets her hands fall back into her lap, pulling away from Johanna slightly to shyly glance at the space between them on the bed, “Would you go with me?”

The growing warmth inside Johanna turns to an icy chill immediately, her body tensing like she is expecting an onslaught of water, “T-to the Capitol?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Virginia says. “But we could make a fun week of it.”

“A fun week in the Capitol?” Johanna chuckles ironically.

“I know, anytime you’ve been there is just awful. But I’m allowed to invite guests, and I’d like to have you with me.”

Johanna doesn’t have to ask if there’s anyone else, she knows there isn’t.

It automatically almost makes her agree on going, because Johanna understands that innate aloneness better than anyone.

But the idea of voluntarily boarding a train back to the Capitol is a little nauseating.

“I don’t even know if I could with work,” Johanna immediately excuses.

Virginia shrugs. “And you probably don’t want to waste all your days off going back to the most traumatizing place in the country.”

Johanna awkwardly hisses through her teeth, it’s all true. But the main thing that would make something that sounds so awful seem appealing is the idea of a week with Virginia. Acting like they’re just relaxing on vacation.

“Would it be relaxing? Or is it going to be like old times with your shuffling me around to talk to people and have my picture taken?” Johanna asks.

Virginia shakes her head, “It’s going to be a broadcasted ceremony, but relatively exclusive to get inside. The only time I won’t be right next to your is during the ceremony, but any time before or after that I will be beside you to make sure you don’t need to make small talk or have your picture taken.”

“Will the food be as good?”

Virginia waves a hand, “Probably not as gluttonous, but still good. And it’s really only the one day we’d have the obligation to do anything. The rest of the week we’d have to ourselves, to do whatever we want.”

“Mm, and what would we do?” Johanna asks, smirking at Virginia who is looking surprised Johanna is entertaining the subject.

“Shopping won’t be as excessive, but we could shop around. A lot of shops and stores have opened back up.”

“I would need to shop; you can see my whole wardrobe in there. It’s not very Capitol-chic,” Johanna nods behind herself at her open closet.

“No, they’re encouraging people to wear more authentic stuff. One of the recipients was a farmer in District 11, they’ve instructed her to wear her best work gear or favorite clothing,” Virginia offers. She gives Johanna puppy eyes that rival Dog’s, “Dog is obviously invited as well.”

Johanna weighs the pros and cons. She practically comes to her decision when she makes herself think about what it would feel like having Virginia go on a train alone to the Capitol for over a week and what that will do to Johanna’s psyche in the week it takes waiting for her to come back. Her head doctors both said the attachment issues are to be expected after thinking Virginia was dead, but it still makes Johanna feel so weak and pathetic.

“I will talk to Bob about missing work,” Johanna decides stiffly. But then she holds up a threatening finger, “But only if you actually are okay with receiving that award and bringing me. It would kind of be the first time we’d ever be ‘us’ publicly.”

“I am fine receiving that award if it does some good. And I know it would be the first time we’re being us in public. That’s why I ask. And if I’m being honest, that award will only feel like a fraction of anything to me if you’re by my side.”

“Corny,” Johanna teases, leaning in conspiratorially to whisper.

“I can’t help it,” Virginia smiles.

Johanna leans in to kiss her again, this time firmer and longer. Something warm flutters in her chest at the words, at the feeling of Virginia’s lips against hers. And as Virginia’s arms wrap around her it feels so secure and safe that it makes all the looming horrors of the Capitol seem as if they’d be unable to touch her.

---

Johanna’s doctors write her some note that will apparently excuse her from work, but it doesn’t even matter since Bob gives her the time off. Katniss lets Johanna borrow a pair of pants designed by Cinna that will go with her crochet shirt, on the condition Johanna doesn’t strip it off and just leave it lying there in public. It’s funny, but Johanna barely cracks a smile since she’s so on edge.

“I’m sorry, you did what?” Johanna coughs out a laugh and looks over at Virginia in surprise. They’re sitting in a small sleeper cabin in the train.

“Made an appointment with a vet for Dog, so he can get his shots,” Virginia easily replies.

“I’m just wrapping my head around the fact that the Capitol has a whole separate type of doctor for their damn animals, but doctors weren’t allowed in the districts,” Johanna blinks.

“Well, that’s going to change now.”

“It just took a whole war,” Johanna scoffs and plops down into the pullout bed that Virginia has deemed clean enough after thoroughly investigating it.

“Yeah, it’s bullshit,” Virginia agrees and settles down, laying down beside Johanna. One of her hands automatically goes to Johanna’s hair, pushing some stray locks off her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

Johanna shrugs, “I don’t know, antsy since we’re going to be stuck in this damn train for like a full day.” She glances up at Virginia whose eyes are blankly staring at Dog who is kicking his blanket around to make a bed. “What about you?”

Virginia shrugs, “Apathetic. But at least this train ride to the Capitol is better than our last one together.”

Her deadpanned words make Johanna snort out a laugh. She props herself up on her elbow, turning into Virginia, smirking down at her, “I don’t know we may have been hurdling towards certain death on that train ride, but I also remember us having lots of fun in your room that night.”

A pretty, deep blush spreads up Virginia’s neck and to her cheeks. Automatically, Johanna’s free hand goes out to trace the white scar on her face sticking out even more from the blush. As she drags her fingers to push a lock of black hair out of her face, Johanna stops cold and rapidly when the action makes Virginia flinch back and unable to look Johanna in the eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if I’m, uh, ready for that again, quite yet,” Virginia mutters, barely looking up. And when Johanna tries to get her to look her in the eye, she just shakes her head and shuts her damp eyes.

Johanna looks around at the rattling train car and bed that folds out, she can’t imagine it could even handle that much motion so she tries not to laugh at how ridiculous the idea of having sex right now would be.

“Um, I wasn’t trying to,” Johanna chuckles out in confusion.

“I know, I know we’re both still getting there. I just think this time around it might be me that,” Virginia winces and pulls her hands away from where they were lightly touching Johanna’s sides. “It might be me we have to wait on this time. To be ready for that.”

A rancid, leaden feeling makes Johanna sit back to get out of Virginia’s space. The fear at what that means settles like a shiver in her spine. What did they do to her in that prison?

Johanna’s horror slips past her numbing lips, “Wait, did something, uh, happen in prison? Did anybody-”

Virginia finally looks up at her at that, eyes wide and shaking her head, “Oh no, not that.”

Johanna just raises an eyebrow in question.

“I promise, Capitol pedigree kind of gave me the code black mark too,” Virginia reassures.

She wonders how pale her face has gotten at the panic that set in, because Virginia softens and reaches out with both hands to cup both sides of Johanna’s face. Her hand shakes as it comes up to cover Virginia’s. The relief almost solves the cold shock of panic.

“It’s not like that, I just,” Virginia winces and blinks again.

The motion causes twin streaks of tears to fall from her eyes. She doesn’t even talk again until Johanna wipes the tears away, fingertips burning from the damp feeling.

“I know I should be above this shit, but,” Virginia whispers defeatedly into her chest, “I just hate how I look now.”

Johanna opens her mouth to protest but stops as Virginia numbly continues.

“It’s like I can’t even recognize my body anymore,” she mutters. “It’s like I’m living in someone else’s fucking awful skeletal, scarred husk.”

“Hey, look at me,” Johanna firmly states when she can sense that Virginia is just going to continue listing adjectives to degrade herself. When tentative hazel eyes blink open and flit to Johanna’s face, she tries to give a sarcastic, cocky smirk, “Would it help if I objectify you more?”

Virginia snorts a wet chuckle, “No, I don’t want you saying bullshit to try and make me feel better.”

“It wouldn’t be bullshit, since when do I say anything to make someone feel better?” Johanna scoffs.

“Jo, come on.”

“No, you come on. You look fantastic and strong,” she offers. “Ugh, don’t roll your eyes at me. Maybe that strength is more from within now than the literal sense, but I like how you look.”

“It’s not an upgrade from before.”

“Neither is my body,” Johanna chuckles, finally sitting back on her heels. “And I’m not comparing you now to before, the fact that you aren’t decomposing alone makes you look fucking amazing.”

“Sounds like a pretty low bar,” she sarcastically replies.

“Oh, as if you didn’t think the same exact thing about me, I know how corpse-like I was by the time you saw me in prison. Apparently, Annie thought they threw a corpse in her cell when she saw me, which was before you did.”

“Sure, but you have gained a lot of muscle back, your hair’s grown,” Virginia rambles. She pushes to sit up and crosses her legs, playing with her fingers in her lap. “But I’m literally disfigured and have face scars. Fuck, I can feel how everyone notices my missing fingers.”

“Actually, my scalp looks awful,” Johanna jokes.

“And your hair covers most of it; I can’t cover my face or my old tattoos. I’m not trying to be self-pitying or say your shit isn’t awful; I just need time to get used to how different I look now.”

For a moment, Johanna just stares at her as the car mildly jostles from the tracks beneath her and the sounds of Dog’s quiet snores fill the air. She tries to search for the correct words, because she doesn’t agree with Virginia’s negative perception of herself. But Johanna won’t tell her she’s wrong, because she remembers going through similar feelings of disgust at her own body while bald, scarred, and skeletal in District 13.

She slowly shuffles in closer, putting a hand to Virginia’s cheek and leaning in to barely press her lips against the white scar. It tastes like the salt from Virginia’s tears. Johanna lingers for a moment, eyes shut and breathing her in. The shiver beneath her lips transforms to a small sob as hands come up to grip Johanna’s shoulders desperately.

“I am not going to bullshit you or tell you how you feel is wrong, but as the person dating you and who finds you unbelievably hot,” Johanna says as she barely pulls away. “You may hate this new scar, but I really like it. It makes your dumb smile look even cuter.”

Johanna punctuates her point by gagging at her own lame admission, which causes Virginia to smile crookedly and small.

“That,” Johanna clarifies, her thumb coming out to trace it. “I like how it looks. And I haven’t seen your one burned tattoo on your rib, but…”

“It’s not even that; they ruined other tattoos too. It isn’t just the ones that they burned off that look awful.”

Johanna’s fingers automatically move to the fabric covering the winding ivy tattoo on Virginia’s bicep, fingers tracing over the raised scar that runs perpendicular to the ink, “I like touching them, and it makes you tough and hotter. And sure, you almost starved to death, but people can gain weight and muscle back. That is temporary.”

“It’s going to be long a temporary though, Jo. They said it will take me really long to put the weight back on and I may never gain muscle back like before.”

“And I can’t shower like before, but I’m getting there,” Johanna offers. She glances away from Virginia’s wide eyes, “I am not trying to say you’re dumb for feeling that way, but I just want you to know I love how you look and always have. And of course, I am fine waiting until you are ready for more, I’m not really trying to dive into bed right this second either. Also, it’d be hypocritical of me to be impatient.”

“You aren’t ready either?” Virginia almost sounds hopeful compared to her tone of devastation.

“I mean our nightly make outs have definitely reintroduced my body back to the feeling of horniness,” Johanna says with a smirk. “But we don’t have imminent death hanging over us as motivation anymore, and I probably need to figure out more water shit before someone else sweats all over me.”

Virginia actually tosses her head back and chuckles, “Wow, me sweating all over you? You make me sound so hot.”

“I’m sorry, do you magically not sweat at all during sex?” Johanna challenges.

“Fair point,” Virginia concedes with a small smile. She reaches out and grabs Johanna’s hand, “Thanks, Jo.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” she replies. “At least not for this, but you can thank me plenty for voluntarily returning myself to the Capitol for your little medal ceremony.”

“I can think of several ways to thank you for that,” Virginia teases.

Johanna barely lets out a cocky, “Yeah?” before Virginia gives her a tender kiss that makes the impending destination of this stupid train fade away.

---

Their train arrives in the Capitol the next night. Johanna must be desensitized from her months in the loony bin earlier this year as she doesn’t feel much panic or tension stepping onto the familiar streets. She isn’t thinking about how being near the center of the Capitol means she could be standing above the sewer tunnels in the exact spot Finnick died. She doesn’t think about how she easily voted for a Capitol Games not even a year ago.

She doesn’t let herself think of any of that.

All she can really think about is preemptive crankiness at the possibility of cameras and shit she’d usually be mobbed with in the Capitol. It’s why Virginia takes Dog on a long walk while Johanna just settles into the ridiculously large and comfy bed of the fancy room accommodation they’d been given.

The event is tomorrow, and Johanna essentially spends the entire night tossing and turning.

Virginia comes with Johanna to take Dog to his stupid doctor’s appointment in the morning. Dog gets a few shots and it makes him pretty sleepy, but he is still ecstatic meeting new people when she brings him along to her head doctor appointment.

By the time Johanna is back from that it is time to get ready for the event and she feels queasy the entire time. Not having to wax her entire body, face caked with makeup, or a bunch of shit in her hair should be enough to help reassure her but it isn’t.

Johanna quickly dresses into the pants from Katniss with a tank top and the crochet shirt, which she opts to not button up. She fiddles with her mother’s silver chain on her neck, hoping it can give her strength like it did in the first arena. Johanna is definitely going to need it.

---

As far as Capitol events go, this ceremony is incredibly toned down. Virginia didn’t undersell how exclusive the event is as there are less than one hundred people a small smattering of camera crews inside one of the grand halls that survived the war. She vaguely keeps an eye out for the cameras, knowing the event is being broadcast and having had enough of the Capitol media attention for a lifetime she wants to go unnoticed. Johanna’s certain she’s been inside this building a few times for her own banquets and parties she had to attend after winning the games.

The energy in the room is noticeably different. The new flag of Panem hangs above the center stage with each district flag flanking it. Johanna plunks down in one of the last rows to avoid cameras. She coils up Dog’s leash after instructing him to lay down in the aisle by her chair.

In the time leading up to the event, the seconds tick by slowly and Johanna passes the time by glaring at people who come near her or look at her too long. It’s absurd how many people want to pet Dog as they walk by. Especially since Virginia returned from their walk last night with some bright red harness to put on Dog that indicates he is a companion animal and not to be touched.

She nearly snarls at some lady who begins to crouch in front of her animal while making awful baby noises at him. When the woman notices Johanna’s bitchy expression, she just points and taps the words on Dog’s harness and then rolls her eyes at the lady. It isn’t until the lady walks off that Johanna realizes her knee has been bouncing with anxious and annoyed impatience. She only notices because Dog props his chin on her knee. Johanna runs her hands through a thick coat of fur and continues in her effective glaring that basically gives her the entire row to herself.

A small orchestra begins playing and the lights dim. It’s like the second time Johanna’s heard the new anthem, which still sounds dumb in the way a song made for brainwashing the masses does. People begin filling up their designated seats on stage. Johanna rolls her eyes impatiently at each person who files on stage. Finding herself disappointed with each face that isn’t Virginia’s.

Virginia’s the last person to file onto stage. She looks breathtakingly like herself, a version and style that rarely got to live out loud. There’s no over-the-top Capitol escort getup with ridiculously high heels, although much to Johanna’s chagrin, Virginia insisted on wearing a short heel. The outfit isn’t boring either, it’s clear from Virginia’s appearance she is from the Capitol but is showing a toned-down version of a Capitol citizen likely never seen by most people in the districts.

The wide leg rich plum-colored pants and cream blouse getup she wears is somehow not gaudy. The high waisted pants are well tailored and cinch in at the bottom of Virginia’s ribs.

An (annoying) involuntary smile tugs on Johanna’s mouth. It’s the first time Johanna’s seen her done up since they’ve been reunited. And it’s not like Johanna often got to see Virginia’s actual choice of style, but it suits her.

After Virginia gracefully sits and automatically crosses her legs, those bright hazel eyes bounce around the audience. Johanna’s smile grows knowing Virginia’s seeking her out. Their eyes meet, and Virginia’s eyes brighten and the right corner of her mouth twitches up.

As the music stops and President Paylor begins her welcoming speech, Johanna’s eyes don’t stray from Virginia. She doesn’t comprehend a word of the president’s speech nor any of the recipients as they receive the medal.

Johanna’s impatience grows. Even if Virginia doesn’t think she’s redeemable, seeing her finally get some recognition for her whole life being taken from her, for every good thing she’s done, it makes Johanna feel prideful for her, even if that is a horribly foreign and lame emotion to feel.  

It takes the first two recipients until Johanna comes to the grave realization that the awards are being given alphabetically. Meaning Virginia will be last to speak. The last guy to receive his award before Virginia is clearly some rebel military general, he’s in gray uniform and won’t shut the hell up. A lot of his speech is gratuitously stroking his own ego for his bravery and reeks of military propaganda.

When his speech finally wraps up, Johanna’s hands extract themselves from Dog’s hair to clap a bit too loudly and obnoxiously. If there’s one person in the world who can relay such a sarcastic clap in a loud crowd, it’s Johanna Mason. Her hands tingle from smashing loudly together, using each smashing of her hands to say – thank fuck he’s done talking!

Johanna catches Virginia give her a stern playful glare and tiny shake of the head as President Paylor returns to the podium.

“Our last recipient of the Medal of Unifying Valor is Virginia Venatrix.” Paylor pauses, her gaze scanning the crowd. "To most of you, Virginia Venatrix might not be a name you recognize—or at least not a name you associate with rebellion. For over a decade, she lived in plain sight, known primarily in the Capitol as an escort for the Hunger Games, serving District 7. Though few would have guessed the life she truly led."

Johanna smirks.

"Born in the Capitol and joining the rebellion at the age of eleven, she rejected her Capitol privilege as she saw the cruelty for what these Games truly were. She devoted her life to dismantling the very system that benefited her, while publicly maintaining the appearance of a loyal Capitol escort. She risked everything to serve the rebellion from within."

Virginia is still sitting, waiting for when Paylor’s speech ends, and Johanna can tell the recognition is something completely foreign as she shifts a little uncomfortably under the stage lights. It’s such minor shifting that the only person in all of Panem to pick up on her discomfort is Johanna.

"Virginia’s efforts in the Capitol and District 7 were instrumental—not just in planting the seeds of rebellion, but in saving lives. Before the war, Virginia was part of an underground network that helped individuals escape through Panem’s northern border, evading Capitol patrols and finding freedom."

The discomfort saps out of Virginia, and Johanna feels her chest swell with the soft look of pride Virginia affords herself.

“Over her four years as the District 7 escort, Virginia used her position to gather intelligence, forge alliances, and deliver critical information that paved the way for revolution.” Paylor continues. A grave look comes over Paylor’s face, and she clears her throat before continuing, “When the rebellion began, she paid the price for being associated with the district of the few remaining tributes of the Quarter Quell. Despite her capture and mistreatment, Virginia revealed nothing—not the names of her comrades, not a single piece of the rebellion’s plans, not even her own identity as a spy."

She knows Paylor is reading a speech she may not have even written, but the way she’s hyping up Virginia right now makes Johanna smile broadly at her girl on stage.

“In fact, her captors deemed her loyal after weeks of interrogation and torture. That is a testament not only to her skill but also to her unwavering strength and resilience. She endured what most could not.”

Paylor gestures her arm to indicate for Virginia to get up and approach the podium. Virginia’s heels click on the stage.

"Virginia Venatrix reminds us of the courage it takes to live a life of principle, even when it comes at the greatest cost. It is my honor to present Virginia Venatrix with the Medal of Unifying Valor."

Johanna may clap a bit obnoxiously, but at least she refrains herself from whooping or whistling. Virginia’s eyes are on Johanna’s the entire time Paylor places the medal around her neck.

Johanna doesn’t know if Virginia will be able to see it, but she flashes her a thumbs up. And despite Johanna’s mixed feelings about returning to the Capitol, it is absolutely worth it to see Virginia’s face and hear her tiny inhale before giving her own speech.

“Thanks for this honor. It is difficult to accept a medal for something that never felt like heroism to me. I didn’t become a spy in the rebellion out of bravery or valor in the same way a soldier would for battle. From a very young age, I recognized how awful the Hunger Games were. And I also learned some tough realities about opposing the ‘greatness’ of the Capitol’s government while living there – that saying certain words even in the safety of your own home could get you executed for treason if the wrong person overheard.

“The Capitol citizens shown on the TV during the Hunger Games was not like the Capitol I grew up in. Very few held that absurd level of wealth, in reality, a much larger portion of citizens were debt-ridden. This went unseen to the rest of Panem, as it would’ve disrupted the veneer the Capitol wanted to portray itself as.

“I lost my younger sister to illness that my family couldn’t afford to treat. I watched my sister suffer and slowly die, and even then, I still knew her death was privileged. Because she died in a hospital bed with doctors treating her, where people in the districts were watching their little sisters or brothers slaughtered brutally for entertainment.

“I couldn’t just be complicit by burying my head in the sand and ignoring the atrocities being committed against this nation’s children. But I also am not some Capitol example of the myth of pulling myself up by my bootstraps to go from impoverished to an escort. Instead, it was a product of the spy training selected for me.

“I just did what should have been done, but it wasn’t because of the way the rebellion shaped me to act. It was because of my mother, who taught me to see humanity in every person I met. That people are not pawns—not in games, not in rebellions, not in wars. I wish she could be here today to see this.”

Virginia pauses and her eyes lock onto Johanna’s. It makes Johanna’s chest tighten and she lets out an uneven gasp at how strong the emotions she feels in the few moments their eyes are locked. But to Johanna’s surprise, Virginia quickly breaks eye contact and takes a steady breath before beginning and looking anywhere else but Johanna.

“President Paylor mentioned several of my accomplishments in District 7, but most of those are not due to my sole effort. I share that accomplishment with my allies in District 7. Given my role in the Games, the allies I collaborated closest with were the District 7 victors. Both Blight O’Malley and Ashford Flint died in the rebellion – Blight in the arena, and Ashford tortured in prison.

“Their mentor was Archer Thomas, who won his own games almost fifty years ago. He was a lifelong rebel; in fact, most deep-rooted seeds of rebellion planted in Seven were from decades of his work. He died a few years ago in the most rebellious way possible by taking away the power Coriolanus Snow used to exploit and control his victors. He did it to protect the other District 7 victor who was my closest ally and who played a major role in most of my accomplishments mentioned,” Virginia pauses again, and Johanna already feels her heart swelling that Virginia is referring to her.

Under the harsh lights, Johanna notices the tiniest bit of color that rushes to Virginia’s cheeks, “Johanna Mason – who always challenged me to be better, to never grow apathetic or stagnant in the fight, to stay angry for those who went unheard. Her commitment to her district and brave refusal to be broken did more for the rebellion than can be quantified.”

Her own name ringing out from the speakers followed by the recognition makes Johanna’s cheeks color. Her heart thuds harder, and Johanna doesn’t know if her body can handle how these words make her feel.

I forgot what being loved like this felt like, Johanna thinks. The feelings of warmth slam into her. She feels loved and recognized in a way nobody ever has before. Despite the visceral feeling the word love usually gives Johanna, this is the most secure and matter-of-fact things she’s ever felt.

It’s simple, Virginia loves her. And Johanna thinks she may have the capacity to let herself love Virginia back.

Virginia begins to step away but hesitates as if she has more to say. She steps back in, returning to the microphone, speaking steadily but quieter. “In 75 years of Hunger Games, 1,800 children between the ages of 12 and 18 were reaped and forced into these inhumane, barbaric games. With 75 total victors, that means 1,725 children were killed in arenas.”

It becomes dead silent in the building. You could hear a pin drop from the sheer size of it all. Virginia is so smart, making everyone confront the fact by looking at the sheer number of lives lost.

“My time as an escort in the Games was short, but I carry the names of the seven tributes I lost with me always. Six of those make up the 1,725 names. I will say all their names now, and I urge all of you to remember the names of every other child who was stolen from this world by the Games. Twiggy Cedarsmith, Lily Brooks, Jason Riverstone, Ashley Pines, William Booth, and Paige Green. I think of you and your families every day. You were more than just names. You were children with people who loved you, with dreams and futures that should have been yours. You deserved so much better than the world gave you, and more than I was able to give you, and I will carry that with me always.”

Johanna slouches a little bit. Hearing their names, she finally lets herself actually think of her tributes she lost. Lily who stood a fighting chance and probably would’ve won if Johanna hadn’t castrated a Gamemaker. Ashley, who was too young and sweet, and fell victim to careers hunting her down just because of her home district. And Jessica, who was shy and scared and didn’t even survive her bloodbath.

“Out of every child ever reaped, only seven people remain alive today. Seven. Most victors were lost to the war, the Quarter Quell, and as victims of addiction from neglect in the system that took everything from them. These few remaining carry the weight of what was taken from them, along with the memories of every child who didn’t make it home. Their survival is not a testament to the Games or to the Capitol or to the rebellion, but to the strength of the human spirit in the face of unimaginable cruelty.”

The somber silence is tangible. Virginia pauses, swallows and her voice remaining firm and strong as she finishes her speech.

"Those we lost are the ones we should commemorate, not me. No child should ever have to face what they did again. We must remain vigilant to fight for a world that is fair and just. We owe it to those we’ve lost – and ourselves – to keep working towards something better. Thank you.”

Yeah, I think I love her, Johanna thinks as the speech closes. The silence rings out for one more second as Virginia steps away from the microphone with a small nod. Powerful seconds of silence go by before scattered claps lead to thunderous applause engulfing the entire room.

Johanna thinks she’s the loudest one clapping. And she’s the first to rise to her feet, which quickly gets Virginia’s attention. Their eyes lock for the second before Johanna’s standing causes a domino effect of Virginia’s speech almost unanimously receives a standing ovation.

And Johanna didn’t have to listen to all the other speeches before her to understand how much more powerful Virginia’s words were.

She feels like she’s buzzing and barely listens to the closing remarks. But as the cameras stop filming and the lights turn back on, Johanna is fighting the temptation to sprint across this room to Virginia.

Although Johanna refrains based on the small eyeroll Virginia shoots her as she nods her head at a group of cameras.

Johanna waits for the crowds to thin out, clutching onto Dog’s leash and trying to avoid anyone looking at her and recognizing her. Knowing that Virginia may be wrapped up in a few things after the ceremony, Johanna follows some signs pointing to the dining hall where the banquet dinner is being held.

She avoids being recognized or bugged by staying seated at a marble-top bar and staring down into her drink. Johanna may tensely sip on two glasses of whiskey too quickly, antsy as if at any moment Plutarch or some other annoying ass person will notice Johanna Mason is in the building.

“You look relaxed.”

The words ring out from behind Johanna where she was slouching and propping her elbow on the bar with her chin in hand.

“Nice speech,” Johanna greets, spinning on her stool to face Virginia. The excitement bubbling under her casual tone betrays her eagerness. She stands up to greet Virginia with a hug. It’s not a typical greeting but she feels an overwhelming need to touch her.

Virginia’s arms instinctively wrap around Johanna’s shoulders. Her back tingles from the slight pressure of Virginia’s fingers pressing through the yarn of her shirt. The vanilla scent and warmth coming off Virginia makes her want to bury her face in the fabric at Virginia’s shoulder and never move. But Johanna quickly extracts herself, knowing the longer they hug, the more likely she is to be recognized.

But she stays warm and smirking when Virginia doesn’t pull away fully, keeping both her hands on Johanna’s biceps.

Virginia is just looking at her closely, “Did I overstep?”

Which really wasn’t what Johanna thought she’d say. So, Johanna just confusedly breathes out, “Huh?”

“The speech,” Virginia whispers. “Particularly the stuff about you. And Archer, Blight, and Ashford.”

“Oh, not at all,” Johanna quickly rebuttals shaking her head. “It was great. Why’d you think it was an overstep?”

“You’re tipsy,” Virginia shrugs. “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t cause that.”

Johanna shakes her head, smiling easily, “No, my impatience caused that.”

The sounds of plates clattering, chatter, light music with the scent of many aromas of food reminds Johanna where she is. And the hands holding her right now with Virginia looking at her like that, Johanna is overcome with her growing urgency to leave.

She barely suppresses an eye roll at the realization that she won’t get to be alone with Virginia for a while.

Johanna clears her throat and casually asks, “How long do we have to stay at this thing?”

Virginia tilts her head, “Um, probably an hour or two. Why? Dying of boredom already?”

Fuck it, Johanna thinks and tosses back the rest of her glass of whiskey. She exhales out a burning breath, slamming the cup down on the bar behind her. Johanna adverts her gaze, looking over Virginia’s shoulder at another award recipient chatting with a small group on the opposite side of the room.

Her voice is strained and breathy, not because of the whiskey, “No, I just really want us to be alone.”

Over the chatter of the room, Johanna thinks she hears a tiny gasp slip out of Virginia’s mouth. She quickly covers it with a faint cough, but a light blush peppers Virginia’s cheekbones. With widened eyes darting away from Johanna’s gaze, Virginia audibly swallows, voice deeper. “Understood.”.

This event cannot be over fast enough.

Notes:

I am so sorry for the delayed update! I have been less productive than usual with writing and was struggling balancing actual post-war politics with how to make it interesting. Like i was worried it was overkill, but this is historically how spies are often treated after wars then once they pass they're like super revered for it.

Thank you so much to those who read, comment, kudos, bookmarks :)

Up next in Chapter 20: the rest of their trip in the Capitol, a return to District 12, Annie has her baby.

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Summary:

With things going well on their mini vacation, news of Annie's baby makes grief settle more permanently in Johanna's mind. Naturally, this makes her spiral and lash out.

TW: heavy grief, PTSD

The event remains relatively calm for about an hour. Until it is palpable the way in which Virginia’s bright expression drops cold at something over Johanna’s shoulder. She slowly places her glass on the bar, without looking away.

“Stay here, okay?” Virginia softly mutters and puts her hand on Johanna’s forearm.

Johanna barely nods and Virginia brushes past her immediately. She doesn’t have much time to question the cause of this from the way she hears Virginia loudly greeting the person.

“If you want to keep both your eyeballs in your skull, I suggest you don’t go over there,” her voice is firm, unforgiving, yet still tinged with a passive aggressive Capitol politeness. Then more directly she adds, “Just leave her alone, she’s earned it at this point. Don’t you think?”

The voice that responds isn’t as easy to hear since Virginia struggles with talking too loudly, but Johanna tenses immediately, because she recognizes it as Plutarch. She grinds her jaw and refuses to turn and look, instead waving her empty glass to flag the bartender.

Johanna takes a sip on her drink and tries to eavesdrop, but both their voices are quieter from Virginia pulling Plutarch away.

She enjoys a few minutes of isolation until a deep voice sounds from her left.

“Never thought I’d see you at an event like this.”

She glances over, almost not recognizing Gale without him shadowing Katniss’s every move in sad gray clothing. He looks uncomfortable in a suit, and she gives him an unimpressed glare, “Yeah, well I’ve pretty much never thought of you.”

“Ouch,” he deadpans. “What happened to: are you, gorgeous?” He tries to mimic her voice to sound like her in District 13 but it is awful and too high pitched.

“First of all, I don’t sound like that. Second of all, there’s no Katniss here to upset by saying it, so there’s no need to bother,” Johanna snarks.

She has never liked Gale.

Not because he’s a bit too much like parts of herself – consumed by rage. That rage and righteous hate of the Capitol is the one thing she could respect about him. It was his obvious, immediate weird possessiveness over Katniss even though he had no right to be that way that rubbed Johanna the wrong way. Not like she disliked it for Katniss or Peeta’s sake, more so, it just reminded her of shitty boys from school who treated girls that way. Like one of the guys who her sister dated in school that resulted in Johanna popping his bike tires when he inevitably was a dick to Katherine.

It’s the principal of the thing as to why she was always rubbed the wrong way by him.

So she takes immense pleasure in the way Gale flinches at the sound of Katniss’s name.

Her eyes sharpen and she continues, “And before you ask, I’m not telling you shit about her.”

“Why would I even think to ask that?” He says with a frown.

“Because I’m staying with them in Twelve,” she explains obviously. His expression is blank and she adds on, “For the PCRA, you are a little government drone now, right? You should know what that is.”

“Yeah,” he says and nods, turning to the bar and grabbing his own drink. His voice is smaller as he continues, “You said them, does that  mean…”

“You’re smart enough to make weapons of mass destruction, I’m sure you can come to conclusions on your own,” Johanna drawls with a smirk.

Gale raises his eyebrows before breathing out a laugh into his glass, “Just as mean as I remember.”

“Don’t compliment me, I’m gonna blush,” she sarcastically deadpans.

A tense silence fills the air and she can feel how much Gale regrets coming up to talk to her. Maybe he thought she was genuinely flirting with him in District 13 or that she’d tell him anything about Katniss, but she doesn’t have much else to say to him.

“So you’re here with the Capitol girl?” he conversationally asks after several beats.

She realizes that he may be staying here to talk with her since she is an acquaintance and he doesn’t want to deal with the socialization and hobnobbing required for events like these.

“Virginia,” she corrects. “What about it?”

“Nothing, I’m making small talk,” Gale mutters.

“And I’m making you regret that.”

“A little,” he chuckles. “I’m just surprised you of all people would be with someone from the Capitol.”

“You don’t even know me. And you heard her speech,” Johanna dismissively answers into her glass before taking a sip. “Not your typical Capitol citizen. Or person in general.”

“Has she thought of going into politics?”

Johanna screws up her face, “How would I know? I’m not her keeper. Also, I think she’s earned some time off considering the way they treated her like a criminal after everything.”

“I ask because Plutarch has pulled her into a group of so many suits,” Gale observes while glancing at a part of the room Johanna refuses to look towards.

“Aren’t you one of those suits now?” she mockingly asks.

Gale puffs out a breath, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“And I never would’ve guessed you’d do that, look at us surprising each other,” she answers. She takes some pity on him and keeps the conversation going, “How’s that going for you?”

“It’s fine, we figured out a system and are almost done trying Peacekeepers for their role in things,” he answers tensely. “Beginning movements to reestablish a better law enforcement that isn’t militarized.”

“I’m sure that is going to go swell with you in charge,” she chuckles dryly.

His face screws up, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Haymitch told me a lot of what you did, what Beetee did,” Johanna plainly answers, setting her drink down to face him fully. “You know to prepare me, fill in some gaps that he and many others noticed to put me in Katniss’s headspace before I testified for her. Did you watch the trial?”

“Yes, as much as I could,” he quietly answers. His eyes flit to Johanna and away many times, “It was nice what you and Annie did for her, taking the stand.”

“Yeah, well she kept me from being tried for the crime of being tortured, figured I owed the kid a favor,” Johanna brusquely replies. “Besides Annie and I were also plenty manipulated by that frigid gray bitch. Granted neither of us had any sibling left for her to kill to manipulate us with, but we were both happy to let the person who took out the next dictator get away with it.”

“I know I helped Thirteen a lot, but it isn’t like,” he shuts his eyes and exhales harshly through his nostrils. “I wasn’t like Coin’s righthand guy, so you don’t need to talk at me like I was.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Johanna states with an unimpressed shrug.

“Yeah,” he huffs and sips his drink. “So things will go swell with me in that role.”

“I wouldn’t put me in charge of what your job is, I’m too angry to do anything good with power like that. That’s why I just build houses now,” she answers. Her eyes slowly take him in until he shifts under her stare, “You remind me of me, Gale. A less hot, annoying, boy version of me who wasn’t sent through two arenas and still has every sibling and one parent alive. So I automatically don’t trust you for your job, not to mention I never choked on District 13’s boots when I wanted to fight in that war.”

“I wasn’t some blind soldier.” Gale straightens his posture and crosses his arms, wrinkling the lapel of his suit. “And I was angry just like you, but I was smart about it.”

Johanna meanly laughs and snorts, but the scent of vanilla and a familiar warmth appearing beside her makes her stop short. Her eyes flit over to Virginia who has silently appeared, one of her arms hovers behind Johanna as she grips the bar top.

“She was smart enough to survive under Snow’s thumb for half a decade, fool an entire country twice while in the arena, and survived Capitol torture,” Virginia lists off in greeting. Johanna pushes away an amused smile and instead raises her eyebrows in surprise that Virginia managed to hear all of what Gale said as she appeared. “You saved almost one thousand people in your district, but Johanna was one of the three main people who helped ensure there was even a war to be successfully started. So maybe it’s safe to say you’re both angry and smart.”

Somehow the end of her confrontational appearance she sounds diplomatic and polite, she reaches a hand out to shake Gale’s, “Nice to meet you. It’s General Hawthorne now, correct?”

“Ooh a promotion,” Johanna mutters.

“You too, Virginia,” he tightly replies and gives Johanna a hesitant look before nodding, “Good seeing you, Johanna.”

As he rushes off, Johanna leans a bit more into Virginia’s warmth while looking up at her in bemusement, “Look at you warding the suits off of me with a stick.”

“Want me to stop?” Virginia asks with a small smile. “I just promised to try and keep the Capitol bullshit away from you if you came.”

Johanna quickly reaches out, covering the silk fabric on Virginia’s forearm to stop her rambling before it starts, “I know. I appreciate it, especially with Plutarch. What’d that asshole want?”

“He wanted to bug both of us for different things.”

“Oh,” Johanna chuckles. “And what was that?”

“He wanted to bug you about a ‘docuseries’ he wants to make about the truth of the Games,” Virginia waves a dismissive hand. “Wants to help deconstruct that last bits of the Capitol that can’t adjust to the new way by getting truth out there.”

“Must he keep milking everything about the Games?” Johanna huffs, “Jeez.”

“He tried saying it would be like how the old world did stuff like that after some of the world wars,” Virginia shrugs. “I reminded him they often waited decades before doing that so the people could heal, I told him he needs to wait five years or a decade before trying to bug victors with that again.”

“Well thanks for buying me the time,” Johanna says with a smirk. She glances down at Dog who is laying at her feet, before hesitantly looking up at Virginia, “What’d he want with you? To offer you a bunch of fancy Capitol jobs.”

Virginia replies with a light chuckle and dismissive shrug, “He tried, but I never asked for a career in politics. And for the first time in my life, I get to make choices for myself.”

“And you aren’t choosing politics for some greater, new Panem?” Johanna asks, voice lilting smally while looking up through her lashes.

“Definitely not,” Virginia answers softly, looking at Johanna like she’s the only choice that matters.

“And Plutarch just took that, didn’t bug any?”

“Oh, he bugged plenty, I bartered him down to a day of meetings with him and other people while we’re here,” she dismisses.

“I have to share you?” Johanna flirts. “That sucks.”

“Just for like half a day, the rest of this trip I’m all yours.” Virginia’s eyes brighten as her smirk grows and she looks to the door, “Speaking of sharing me, didn’t you want to get me alone earlier? Wanna get out of here?”

---

There’s an unspoken tension lingering between them as they cross the threshold to their room. The walk back was silent and rapid.

Johanna unclips Dog’s leash and lets him trot into the room. Virginia immediately kicks off her heels while reaching back to unclasp the medal on her neck. She unceremoniously tosses it on the closest surface. The pangs of the impact reverberate through the room when their eyes lock. That warmth that hasn’t left her all night burns hotter.

Virginia just tiredly sighs and gives her a small smile.

It spurs Johanna to cross the distance of the room and give Virginia a more proper hug than the too short one after the ceremony. Her forehead is hot on the cool skin of Virginia’s neck. Johanna hums appreciatively at the feeling of warm, familiar arms tightening around her waist.

“How are you doing?” Johanna mumbles into her neck.

“Just tired,” she responds. “Happy to be back with you.”

Johanna pulls back, but not far enough to loosen the hug too much. She cranes her neck back almost painfully to look into Virginia’s eyes, she smirks, “Me too.”

“Yeah?” Virginia’s voice lilts low and deep. “What did you want to get me alone for?”

“You’re a certified genius, why don’t you take a guess?” Johanna challenges.

“Would you rather I show or tell?” she teases.

It sends pleasant chills down her spine, and the chipping impatience in Johanna gives way as she huffs, “Shut up, come here.”

Her hand on the back of Virginia’s neck barely has to start yanking her down, Virginia is already surging forward.

There’s something different in the way this kiss feels. More urgent, passionate, yet somehow loving. It isn’t like their make outs haven’t heated up with time, but this has unquestionable heat and hunger that fills her body with buzzing energy.

Johanna doesn’t piece together why this kiss feels so different until Virginia pulls away, holding Johanna’s chin with her thumb and pointer finger to keep her at bay. Her eyes blink open, a little dazed at the sight of those golden hazel eyes locked so intently on her. Virginia has a big, joyful smile on her face.

Their lips are so close they brush together as Virginia simply declares, “I love you, Johanna.”

The words delivered against her mouth is the best thing she’s ever tasted. Her body thrums, lively, and almost shaky with the word and feeling of love.

In response, Johanna kisses Virginia again. And again. And again.

She tries to convey that she feels it too. Feeling and admitting to herself that she loves Virginia is one thing but saying it is another. Johanna just can’t say it, not yet. Especially not in a place like the Capitol.

“You don’t need to say –“Virginia pulls away with a gasp to reassure.

“I know, I just need time,” Johanna explains because she can see concern behind Virginia’s lidded eyes. And Johanna doesn’t want her spiraling or apologizing for saying three words Johanna hasn’t known in a while. “In the meantime, let me show you.”

Virginia smiles warmly and kisses Johanna again. Johanna lets herself be unrestrained, to desire and love without fear of it being a death sentence. She can feel the things that have been weighing her down for half a decade fade away.

Blindly she covers the hand on her hip with her own and guides it up to her chest. Johanna isn’t sure if she was encouraging Virginia to touch her chest or to feel her heartbeat in some weak, half assed way of telling she loved Virginia back without actually saying anything. But Virginia takes the hint as the former.

For the first time since before her games, a lifetime ago, she wants her chest to be touched. Feeling gentle hands palming her breast sucks all the air out of her lungs and nearly rips an embarrassing noise out of her.

When she got the implants out, her doctors told her that due to the second surgery she may have less sensation there. Either those quacks were totally wrong or the sheer act and meaning of Virginia touching her like this consumes her.

They’ll stop eventually before it leads anywhere else, but as the pair move to the bed and Johanna straddles Virginia’s lap, warm lips move to her upper chest where her tank top ends, they both know, they both feel it.

Johanna loves Virginia too.

And they have all the time in the world to have each other.

And one day, Johanna may be brave enough to say it back.

---

The next few days are nice. Shopping, walking a lot, listening to Virginia talk animatedly about stuff around them, and just being together.

The zoo ends up being a bust, it is one of the places Virginia wanted to go to together after the war, but well over half the zoo is empty now and just seems sad. The visit to Valerie’s grave isn’t as sad, even if it involves Virginia crying a lot and requiring Johanna’s arms to help her stay upright.

It’s a little weird, getting to live out and do the things they talked about wanting to do when the Quell was announced, things that felt like a fantasy. But they both survived, and Johanna shockingly finds herself happy while in the Capitol at getting to experience these things with Virginia.

---

“You’re sure you’re fine with going to these meetings? You know you don’t owe those assholes anything,” Johanna says while closely watching Virginia swap out the same two shirts and fiddling with buttons in the mirror.

“I know I don’t, trust me, I had to shut down a lot of talk about jobs I should go into,” Virginia absentmindedly answers over her shoulder. “Plutarch said I’d immediately be appointed to a few different roles if I wanted, but I told him I’m done with all that. This is different.”

“A bunch of boring meetings on the very sad looking University campus all day?” Johanna asks with a smirk.

Virginia turns to face her, fondly rolling her eyes, “A bunch of meetings to try to fix the education here.”

“Here? As in?”

“All of Panem. I’m meeting with some people trying to help establish curriculum to ensure the history they teach everyone is uncensored,” Virginia explains and begins rolling up her sleeves. “Since a lot of my education was uncensored, even compared to most other Capitol citizens.”

“And this isn’t going to suck you all back into everything?”

“I’ll just be gone a few hours,” Virginia reassures, turning to walk towards Johanna. She stops in front of her, “Education is the first thing targeted in totalitarian regimes, knowledge is power to keep us from slipping back.”

Johanna hums sarcastically, hands moving out to fix cuffing Virginia’s sleeves, “Inspiring, you should print that on a poster.”

Virginia rolls her eyes and playfully flicks Johanna’s arm, “I’m not trying to be motivating or pretentious. Just am doing a little bit to help try and make things stick without actually going back into things.”

“It makes sense,” she replies.

“Besides, I bartered so you’d get something out of it too,” Virginia brightly answers which makes Johanna focus on her more. “One of the professors called me back this morning, and since I’m agreeing to meet with some of these people, they gave me the code so you can go into the Archer Thomas Botanical Garden.”

Johanna shrinks back a bit in surprise, “What?”

“I said I’d meet if they acknowledged that everything in there is rightfully yours,” she answers easily. She scoops up Johanna’s hand in both of hers. “They said you can have anything in there that may be alive, gave me the code so you can go check it out.”

“You’ll go with me?” Johanna answers, brow furrowing and mind beginning to race at this revelation.

“If you want, they did warn me that it is possible there may be nothing salvageable. It didn’t become a high priority to care for during the war or the reconstruction of things after, so I will go if you want me to be there with you.”

“No, I should be alone,” Johanna automatically answers. “It was my thing with Archer after all.”

“I figured,” Virginia knowingly replies. She moves over to the desk and scribbles something on a piece of paper, “This is the code to get in. Don’t feel like you have to check it out or if you change your mind and want me to come with…”

“I’ll go while you’re in your boring meetings,” Johanna automatically replies. The reality of possibly getting scraps back of her mentor make her mind buzz like static as her lagging brain has barely caught up, “You should take Dog with you.”

“You don’t want him with you for that?”

Johanna numbly shakes her head, “No, I bet the Capitol used super dangerous pesticides in there, I wouldn’t want him getting into anything.”

“Jo,” Virginia softens and holds Johanna’s face to get her to look at her. “Are you sure? You are really spacey, don’t feel like you have to go check it out if you’re worried about it all being gone.”

“I’m not trying to be, just processing,” she nods to almost reassure herself.

It is a mindfuck feeling the scabbed over wound of Archer’s lifework being ripped away from her and mocked to her after his death when she had to cut the ribbon for the stupid greenhouse. But she can maybe reclaim it, it feels like a lot, but maybe it will be good for her. And she means it when she feels that she must do this alone.

She looks directly at Virginia and smiles before pressing a hard kiss to her cheek, “Thanks, Vee.”

Virginia brightens and rushes to go grab Dog’s leash and vest, she clips him onto it and eagerly rushes in front of Johanna again. “I’ll see you later.”

Johanna nods, presses on her tiptoes to give Virginia a kiss and then crouches to pet Dog on the head, “Have fun in your meetings.”

---

Johanna decides to wait a bit before checking out the greenhouse. She procrastinates by opening up one of the books she bought. She’s barely two pages in when she embarrassingly launches the thing out of her hands at the sudden, sharp ringing of the phone beside the bed. She can’t even begin to guess who would be calling this number, but she forces herself to wipe off her sweaty hands and answer the stupid thing.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Johanna!”

“Peeta,” Johanna responds at the sound of his voice, she sarcastically jokes, “Miss me so much that you couldn’t wait a few more days to talk to me again? Also, how’d you even get this number?”

Peeta chuckles on the other end of the line, “No, and Virginia wrote down the name of the place you’re both staying at. I asked the front desk to patch me through.”

“And it isn’t because you missed my jokes that bad?”

“No, and it’s nothing bad,” he quickly reassures. “Katniss and I got a letter in the mail from Annie. She sent you one too, I didn’t open it, but it’s probably the same thing. She had her baby.”

For some reason this makes the world feel like it is a tunnel closing in on her. Her ears ring and she can barely hear Peeta explaining that he figured she’d want to know as soon as possible.

“If you need it, I can tell you Annie’s number if you want to call her.”

“No,” she mutters out, tongue heavy in her mouth. Johanna clears her throat, “No, no, she has a newborn and probably isn’t waiting around for my call. I’ll just reach out once we’re back in District 12, we leave here tomorrow night anyways.”

“Okay,” he pauses, “Are you alright?”

Johanna grips the tacky green phone in her fist tighter, she wonders if Peeta can hear her teeth grinding over the phone.

Is she alright?

Maybe all the electric shocks turned her genuinely brainless, because the reality of Annie having the baby never fully settled in like it has now. Like the concept of the child is finally able to stick in her brain, and it feels nauseating to fully realize.

Maybe it’s because Johanna knows her next district assignment for the winter is in District 4. It means seeing Annie and that baby. It means that the world is so fucking cruel and ironic that Johanna, of all people, will be alive to hold that baby in her own arms.

But Finnick will never get to.

He didn’t know he was going to be a father. He didn’t get his future. He never got any freedom.

And it feels like poison to realize Johanna is allowed to witness life continuing forward.

Without Finnick.

“Is it…” her voice tightens and fades out.

“A boy,” Peeta answers softly.

Johanna wasn’t even asking that. She was going to ask something along the lines of, ‘does it look exactly like him?’ Because Johanna doesn’t know if she can see those green eyes again, or that smile. It may kill her or make her hate a fucking baby for being a living ghost of her best friend. A reminder that Finnick is just gone, a fact that has barely even settled into her brain.

“Got it,” Johanna tightly responds. “A boy. And I’ll call Annie when I get back after I read her letter. Anything else?”

“No,” Peeta begins, and she hates that is voice is soft like he is somehow reading her mind across the line. “Johanna, it’s okay if you –“

“I’m fine, Peeta. I’ll see you in a few days,” she rapidly responds and slams the phone down on the receiver before she can even hear his response.

Johanna can’t think of this anymore. She just can’t. And she can’t handle sitting in this room either, which leads to her nearly floating out of the room and towards the stupid greenhouse.

It’s a short walk with her mind being so loud.

Everything is so fucking unfair.

Life is unfair, and its times like this where going on and living feels pointless. So, so pointless.

Virginia and Dog need Johanna, but you know who else needed someone? Annie and that stupid baby need Finnick. Johanna needs Finnick. Nothing is fucking fair, and she doesn’t know how to even grieve or think at times like this. Because thinking of Finnick, or literally anybody she’s lost – it is a long list after all – leads to the domino effect of a never-ending vortex of loss, anger, and grief.

If the greenhouse named after Archer as some way Snow used to break Johanna to pieces years ago still thrives, it could mean life is beyond her own bubble that she lives in. That the effect of those she loved so much still matters every single day.

Virginia said there may be little to nothing left. Johanna would even bet most fruits and vegetables were harvested until it killed them to keep people fed during the war. It’d be a nice fact if all those mouths fed were people on the side of the rebels, but given the location of the University, it’s highly unlikely.

And suddenly everything is swelling into depending on the state of the other side of the doors across the courtyard that she has walked to incredibly quick. Because if every plant in there was stripped bare and left to die, it will be like losing Archer and every memory of him all over again.

If Johanna had any impulse control, she knows her head doctors would tell her to turn away and calm down, maybe have Virginia go with her. But Johanna cannot wait, so she punches in the code and swings the door open.

The thick, stale air engulfs her as the door seals her inside.

The realization of how awful this idea was truly slams into her like a sledgehammer.

Why did she agree to this? How stupid was she?

The geometric, lifeless style of the self-watering planters is plagued with death.

Every flower, shrub, and sapling is brown, shriveled, and sparse.

Dead and gone, just like Archer. Like Finnick. Like her whole family. Like her friends.

Yet here Johanna is, still alive. She survived a second arena, she survived fucking torture, she survived a war. Despite everything, for some fucking cruel reason, she is still here. 

And Archer ensured some of his plants were put in Johanna’s greenhouse, but she knows those won’t be as resilient as her. Everything in that greenhouse in District 7 is beyond dead by now, probably torn to shreds by Peacekeepers after the arena plot, and if they didn’t, it was probably stripped and looted by all the starving war-torn people.

And this humid, waste of a room was her last fucking chance to have a scrap of him survive it all with her. Something to salvage and bring home.

It’s all gone, just like him.

And she was an idiot for hoping.

She can almost hear Snow’s mocking laughter from beyond his grave. Even now, he still has won.

Johanna’s eyes get frustratingly wet, but she swallows thickly and balls her hands into fists to keep the tears from shedding.

To keep herself from unravelling completely, she tries to remind herself that she still has Archer’s cane. And you know what? She would’ve been fine with it. If Virginia hadn’t gotten her hopes up about this stupid place, she wouldn’t feel the agony she does now.

Virginia should’ve checked into this before having Johanna come here.

It’s the angriest she’s felt in months, it may not help that Dog isn’t here to calm her down, but it is more than that. It’s like the time before she got Dog before her fuel of anger leaked out of her with the war being over. It’s like she felt the day she voted for a Capitol Games; her worst levels of rage are amplified again.

Her hands automatically seek out the biggest pot she can lift, and a scream tears out of her as she throws it as far as physically possible. The shattering of the clay pot rings in her ears as she continues her rampage – kicking random planters, yanking out shriveled plant corpses to stomp beneath her shoe, even grabbing handfuls of dirt to throw.

Everything is so fucking unfair.

It’s unfair that any of Snow’s descendants got to live, but Johanna’s entire family is gone. And the Capitol Games would’ve felt good at first, but only feed into her vengeance for so long. She’d feel so good watching Snow’s stupid granddaughter die, but those games would end as all games do. And then she’d still have nothing. She’d be like this stupid lifeless greenhouse with Archer’s plants after the war, nothing, empty, lifeless but made to keep existing after.

Existing after. After her entire family, after her friends, after Daisy, after Finnick.

It’s a punishment.

She’s always known that. Going on living was her punishment. And it was a good punishment of Snow’s because his terror outlasted his crusty life.

She has Virginia and Dog. Johanna does appreciate that, but none of it makes her a sister again. None of it makes her an aunt or daughter again. It can’t replace what she has lost, and it can’t give her a future with them. It can’t bring them back. She’ll never make Jack his treehouse or watch him grow up, she’ll never get to see Katherine make something of herself.

She has Annie and Peeta to occasionally talk to but how often will they see her once she’s back in District 7? Looking at Annie only makes the wound of Finnick so much worse. And his son, his stupid son that sent her on this spiral today is born, and someone like Finnick who radiated life and joy was so easily snuffed out by a vile, unnatural mutt in a nasty sewer beneath the earth.

Johanna has unfortunately learned that anger doesn’t last as fuel forever, but she thinks this grief may never fade.

Everything around her is a reminder of what she has lost.

By sheer willpower, she doesn’t cry at all, she refuses to cry in public in the Capitol ever again. And her volatile fury ends with the loud snap of her kicking that dead willow sapling in the center of this place with such force the thing snaps in half.

“Fuck!” She seethes as she stomps towards the exit.

By muscle memory she storms back to their room a few blocks away.

The door barely slams behind her by the time Johanna has buried her fist in the wall. She winces when yanking her forearm and fist out of the plaster. Hot blood drips down her knuckles and along her fingers, it reminds her too much of all the blood she’s felt in her hands.

It makes Johanna collapse in on herself like a stack of cards. She just glares at her cut up knuckles, watching blood bubble, spill all over her skin, and stain her dirt caked nails red.

She misses her family so much.

Time passes so weird, because she thinks a few hours may pass by the time Virginia returns.

Johanna hears her name echoing faintly in the background. It’s like dusting spider webs off her brain, her eyes dully blink and she just notices that the bleeding has stopped and started scabbing. Her jaw clenches impatiently as she watches Virginia run into the bathroom to grab a first aid kit. Johanna isn’t jostled out of her haze until the cold touch of Virginia’s hand gripping hers.

“Stop,” Johanna growls while yanking her hand back. “I’m fine.”

“There’s a hole in the wall and-“

“Because of you.”

“What?”

Johanna looks away from her hand to glare at Virginia properly, “You told me to go visit that place and didn’t fucking bother to check if anything would be alive in there.”

“Jo, I said there’s a chance nothing might’ve-“

“Why would you tell me to do that if you weren’t sure?” Johanna cries out. She barely even registers Dog laying down beside her and resting his chin on her. “Everything was dead, just like everyone else. How am I not supposed to just be haunted by Archer in that place, by everyone?”

“I’m sorry,” Virginia quickly shakes her head, finally setting the gauze back in the first aid kit. “But that isn’t my fault.”

Johanna wants to get up and storm out, to remain so damn pissed at Virginia, but she has no energy. And she knows Virginia is right.

All her anger transforms into grief that feels like being brutally stabbed over and over again. It’s as if she feels the brutal, painful way every person she loved die.

“They’re all dead,” she spits out the poisonous words.

“I know,” Virginia whispers, understanding Johanna isn’t talking about the plants anymore.

“Annie had her stupid fucking baby,” Johanna dully whispers out after what feels like hours of silence as Virginia just watches her. “Her stupid fatherless fucking baby.”

A dry sob finally cracks Johanna’s chest into two, making her nearly collapse forward into Virginia’s arms tangling her fingers in the fabric of her shirt. Johanna lets out some agonized hybrid of a scream and wail.

“I miss him,” Johanna hiccups out.

“I know,” Virginia whispers against Johannas’ temple. Her arms tighten their hold around Johanna, and it helps press on her to take away the stabbing pain. “I know.”

---

Johanna gets very little sleep. She refuses to lay down in bed because of lingering irritation with Virginia about telling her about the greenhouse. And the little sleep she does get laying down on the couch is frequently disrupted from Virginia tossing around and mumbling Johanna’s name in her sleep.

It makes Johanna fully understand her own guilt when she fully gives up on sleep shortly after four in the morning. She tries to formulate how to apologize, but her body is on edge and feels like the walls are closing in. At the earliest possible time she can wake Dog up, she takes him outside and feeds him.

With Dog fed, she finds Virginia still sleeping and Johanna transitions from claustrophobic guilt to full blown antsy. Unfortunately, Dog picks up on this and begins pawing at her leg.

Johanna sighs and grabs a sticky note and pen, she messily scrawls: ‘Took Dog on a walk @ 5:45 AM – J’ and sticks the note on Virginia’s forehead before heading out.

At first, she sticks to walking through the floors of this building. But as the sun rises, she finds herself drawn to wander around outside. Watching the pinks flood the sky over the mountainous skyline as her first time in the Capitol as a truly free woman is empowering. It takes some of the pressure of guilt and grief off her skull, providing something good that distracts her.

It’s the least deflated she’s felt since Peeta’s call yesterday. An idea of a world where Johanna is genuinely free from the constraints of the Capitol is something she can actually conceptualize while walking wherever she pleases.

Occasionally, it all still becomes too much to handle at times and she will find a bench to sit down. Petting Dog’s hair with the grain, then against the grain, and back again. It’s a pattern that grounds her, feeling the soft hair move through her fingers and hearing Dog’s panting reminders her she is safe now.

Even if that’s a concept, Johanna has never had the luxury of knowing her whole life.

A bakery that she remembers Virginia drabble on about in the past opens up shortly after Johanna walks by. Johanna pushes open the glass door, the bell on the door rings and clangs. A young man at the register with an apron wrapped around his waist lifts his head to greet her. He stalls and Johanna rolls her eyes, figuring he must recognize her or have some issue with Dog.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. There are no pets allowed in here,” he evenly says, his accent sounding particularly annoying on the word ‘ma’am.’

Johanna, growing used to this in the months since she’s owned the pet, automatically reaches down into her pocket to pull out a leather wallet. She fishes out the two laminated business cards of both her head doctors and juts her arm out at him with the paper held between her first two fingers.

“Here,” she shakes her arm impatiently until the man tentatively grabs the cards without touching Johanna’s fingers. “My doctors have approved him as some sort of companion animal for me. I don’t know, you guys have a term for it. That’s what his vest says if you can read. Feel free to call them, they’ll vouch for me.”

“Support Animal?” The capitol man supplements, briefly flicking his eyes down to the cards then back up at Johanna. His eyes widen a bit more in recognition, and Johanna can see him now recognize her as one of the few victors alive. His eyes flick back to the cards, and he nods slightly, “Yes, I’ll take your word. Is there anything I can get for you?”

Johanna grabs the business cards back and pushes them in her wallet. She just walks away from him to crouch in front of the display case. It has rows of cookies, brownies, cupcakes, breads, and some pastries. But all lack their usual Capitol garishness.

“We just opened back up a few months ago, things are still pretty bare bones,” the man supplements when he sees Johanna’s brow furrow in disappointment at how mediocre everything looks. Especially after living with Peeta Mellark for a few weeks, this is a disappointing spread.

“I’ll take one of each pastry,” Johanna says, not remembering which item was Virginia’s favorite.

The act of being in the bakery makes her think more of Peeta as she is set to travel back to District 12 tonight. She begins to get an idea to maybe do something shockingly nice. He has been a huge support for her. And in her head, it is almost as if she can hear Virginia telling her it would be polite to get Peeta and Katniss some form of thank you gift for their hospitality.

“Is there anything,” Johanna scowls and tries to find the words, “more decorated? My friend is a baker, I wanted to get him some cupcakes. He would probably like to look at all the icing techniques and that crap.”

“Your friend?”

Johanna lifts her head and meets his eyes knowingly, “Yep.”

He nods in understanding, putting the pieces together. “Please give me a moment, I will go talk to the baker and see if there’s anything he can do.”

Johanna mutters her thanks and returns to petting Dog as her eyes read the labels of the other sweets in the display case. The door to the kitchen swings open a few moments after the worker disappears in. The baker is already rushing out, eagerly. He wipes his hands on his apron and has a gusto to him that he is excited he has a celebrity customer.

“You wanted a custom cupcake order?” The baker asks.

“Yeah, I guess.” Johanna distractedly answers, her eyes pausing on a row of cookies and brownies in the back, “What are the weedling cookies and brownies all about? Get it from District 7?”

She knows the answer is yes, that is where it naturally grows. But knowing pieces of it are from home make her even more homesick and eager to take what she can.

“Yeah,” the cashier answers. He opens the case and begins filling a box with the pastries Johanna ordered.

“Toss in all those weedling cookies and brownies too,” she instructs to the kid, and then turns to the baker, “But yeah, my friend is a baker and likes studying the fancy Capitol cupcakes. My train leaves tonight.”

The baker nods eagerly, “Yes, we can do that and have them ready for you by this evening at the soonest.”

“Cool, let’s do that,” Johanna says, pulling herself to stand upright.

“A half dozen or dozen?”

“Uh, half?” Johanna answers, not really caring about which ones she buys.

The baker is clearly elated with the amount of money he has already made today off one single customer. It gives Johanna a bit of insight that clearly those in the Capitol are going through their own form of financial crisis after the war.

When the cashier rings up her total, it’s a sum large enough Johanna has to tell them to hold the items while she runs to a nearby bank where her Victor’s winnings have been funneled into ever since the war ended.

Johanna returns to the apartment precariously balancing the boxes of pastries and weedling treats. Although she barely crosses the threshold before hesitating in the doorway. Her eyes scan the chaos.

The drawers are yanked open, clothes spilling out like forgotten debris. A shattered lamp catches her attention next, shards glinting in the morning light.

Her gaze lands on Virginia, huddled on the window seat, rocking slightly, tear tracks streaking her cheeks. Hazel eyes look dull and empty.  For a moment, Johanna just stands there, stunned. She’s seen Virginia breakdown in ways she wasn’t familiar with since her return, but even then she was still loud and filled with life in some way. And this version of Virginia —hollowed and panicked —is nearly unrecognizable.

Dog breaks Johanna’s trance, jerking free from the lose hold Johanna had on the leash. He bounds towards Virginia, letting out an excited bark before jumping onto the seat. Dog nudges Virginia with his nose. Virginia startles slightly, taking her gaze away from the window. The distant look in her eyes show more life in them as she threads her fingers through Dog’s fur.

The sight tugs at something deep in Johanna, stirring a pang of guilt she doesn’t entirely know what to do with. She left a note to avoid a reaction like this. Is she upset with Johanna for yesterday?

“Virginia?” Johanna’s voice is low, uncertain. She steps inside, kicks the door shut quietly behind her. When there’s no response, she abandons the bakery boxes on the table and crosses the room.

Crouching down in front of her, Johanna’s chest aches, “Hey,” she tries, soft but firm.

Slowly, hazel eyes flicker to hers, recognition dawning. Relief washes over Virginia’s face, but the anxiety doesn’t fade entirely. Her voice is a shaky whisper.

“I thought you left.”

“I left a note,” Johanna counters trying to not sound too defensive. “Stuck it on your forehead so you wouldn’t miss it.”

Virginia nods and swallows thickly, “I know, I must’ve knocked it off in my sleep. Didn’t find the thing until after I –“ her eyes flit beyond Johanna and take in the room.

“Tore through this place like a twister?” Johanna asks.

“Yeah, then I just felt so ashamed and couldn’t move. Couldn’t convince myself you were coming back.”

“Ashamed?”

“Because I assumed the worst of you,” Virginia mutters, barely meeting Johanna’s eyes. “Thought you left after yesterday.”

Johanna’s face twists and something hot and vicious stabs in her chest that she thought so little of her. But she forces herself to not run her mouth, because she had a breakdown when Virginia wasn’t home one day from work. Granted, Johanna didn’t go full blown Cresta level of breakdown and tear the room apart.

She opens and shuts her mouth, struggling to be reassuring when biting her tongue to keep her anger at bay.

But Virginia is shooting to her feet before Johanna can even say anything. It’s so sudden, it almost makes Johanna fall back on her ass. Her arms paw out behind her to catch herself on the hardwood.  

“I’m sorry, please just excuse me,” Virginia states so evenly it sounds robotic. “I need a minute.”

Johanna stares, stunned.

Virginia strides to the bathroom door and doesn’t even look back at Johanna before shutting the door behind her. Johanna’s concern and shocked guilt and hurt morphs into irritation at the creaking pipes of the shower.

It automatically makes her flinch, feeling her spine tingle and she almost braces herself for a shock. Johanna almost can’t breathe at the way her throat closes from the sound of the water but also realizing how Virginia has just shut her out.

Of course, Virginia would go into the one place she knew Johanna would be unable to follow.

Now this Johanna has a huge fucking right to be pissed about.

Her tendons in her neck bulge, from her bubbling anger. Johanna grits her teeth, it helps make her spine tingle less from the noise.

She is fucking pissed. Pissed at herself for being so weak, and pissed at Virginia for seeing Johanna for the weakling she is and exploiting it to basically shove Johanna away with a metaphorical stick.

Dog jumps off the seat, landing beside Johanna. He runs out of sight and brings Johanna a squeaky toy. But Johanna just stares at the bathroom door, trying to focus on breathing so she doesn’t explode.

She feels a wet nose bump her arm and her attention returns to Dog who has wriggled his way to sit on her lap. He licks her face once, making her scowl and immediately wipe away the moisture. It’s enough to get Johanna’s focus on him. She looks into the kind eyes of the animal while petting him.

“You’re good at your job, maybe you’ve earned a name,” she jokes to Dog who just tilts his head then hops off her lap to nudge his squeaky toy towards Johanna again.

His insistence makes a small chuckle rip out of her throat. But as she is about to throw the toy, Johanna remembers the shattered lamp on the ground. And the way this animal looks at Johanna like she is his entire world, and it makes her think immediately of his tiny helpless paws.

“Let me clean first,” she says as she climbs up to her feet. “Stay,” she firmly instructs as she moves to the closet to pull out a broom and vacuum. Dog continues to stay, deciding to lay down and chew on his toy while Johanna cleans up Virginia’s mess.

It’s concerning. The one constant thing about Virginia across both her real and cover personality is her compulsive neatness. Virginia will even clean up messes after herself when falling apart. Especially when she is falling apart, actually.

And Virginia didn’t even attempt to clean up her mess today. Johanna can’t even fathom how wrecked she must’ve been.

Johanna bites at her lip, pushing down guilt about yesterday.

Pushing the feeling away, Johanna busies herself playing fetch with Dog until he deposits his squeaky toy at Johanna’s feet and plops tiredly onto the ground.

Eventually, Virginia comes out of the bathroom with damp hair and her face scrubbed raw. Johanna is sitting in a chair, crossing her arms, and glaring at the bakery boxes resting on the middle of the table. She eyes Virginia as she hesitantly pads over. Johanna rolls her eyes when a tiny smile hints at the corners of Virginia’s mouth when she catches sight of the pastry boxes.

“You went to my favorite bakery?” Virginia softly questions.

Johanna tightens her crossed arms. Grinding her jaw, she glares and gives her a small nod.

“What did you get?” Virginia cautiously asks.

“Pastries.”

Johanna unceremoniously flings the lid of the box open.

A tiny smile makes it way onto her lips, “You got my favorite?”

“Yeah,” Johanna clips out. She doesn’t get an immediate response from Virginia, so Johanna ends her short-lived quipped responses and begins to rant. “I was getting those while you were destroying the place. And hey, I’m not above property damage as a way to express big emotions, but the fact that you just used water against me like that is so fucked.”

Something explosive in Johanna makes her punch down on her own thigh, she shuts her eyes and shakes her head, “You could’ve just asked for space. But thanks for using water. Next time just spray me with a fucking hose when you want your distance. Wouldn’t be that different than what you just pulled.”

“I panicked when-“ Virginia stops herself. She blinks and tightly keeps her eyes closed for a moment, to gather herself. “I didn’t see the note, and you were so mad at me yesterday.”

“I don’t care about that; I care about what you did when I got here.”

“That wasn’t some nefarious, malicious way to keep you at bay,” Virginia impatiently snaps.

“Oh, spare me that bullshit. Your gigantic brain didn’t think about that?”

“I didn’t mean to insult you with water. I just needed to be alone so I wouldn’t be irrationally pissy with you. And I didn’t like you seeing me like that,” Virginia explains.

“Alright, Virginia, let’s pretend you weren’t being shitty. That it slipped your pretty little mind that water viscerally affects me,” Johanna slows and spits out each word forcefully. “You used it as a way to push me away regardless, which means you were about as thoughtless and uncaring about my water shit as you were about having me go to that greenhouse yesterday.”

“Johanna, I wasn’t thinking straight about the water. Okay, I am sorry it was shitty. But I warned you about the greenhouse, so I offered to go with you.  You can’t be mad at me for everything dying during the war,” Virginia evenly replies and huffs as she sits in a chair beside her. “We both know that isn’t what you’re mad about there, so it isn’t fair to take the greenhouse stuff out on me.”

“Well you have made up for that by being plenty unfair to me today,” Johanna snarls while glaring daggers into the wall.

“I am sorry, okay!” Virginia exclaims impatiently. “I woke up and you and Dog were gone. I didn’t find the note for several minutes, and that whole time I was so fucking scared I messed up and you left. I spiraled because of everything yesterday.”

“And I’m still here,” Johanna replies dully. “Was getting you your stupid fucking pastries while you thought I was just a coward who ran. Who left the only person I,” her voice breaks off and she can’t tell if she wants to scream or not.

Virginia bites her lip hard, her voice coming out terse, “Do you know how terrifying it was for me? To wake up and think you’re gone.”

The words are like a harsh slap to the face.

She’s seeing red, and then a mean, hollow laugh tears out of her mouth. Johanna’s cackle slices through the air like a sword. “Yeah, Virginia. I fucking know what it’s like to wake up and think you’re gone,” her voice is dripping with venom and vitriol. “I lost you for over a year, thought you were dead for over half that time. Do you even fucking understand how impossible it was to live?”

Johanna shoves the chair out and both her hands grip at the table with such ferocity she could snap the wood in half. She can see Virginia’s own recognition of her poor choice of words. She feels some vindication at the guilt on her face.

“I thought it was impossible living after I lost my family. But after losing you, it destroyed me. I hated myself for letting myself be dumb enough to love again after seeing what Snow did to Daisy,” Johanna’s voice is losing its venom, but she can’t stop her mouth. “Every night I saw you die in my dreams; you tortured me in my dreams constantly. And if I was lucky enough to not hear Peeta screaming I had to hear my last cruel words I said to you on repeat.”

“You know I don’t fault you for saying awful things when they brought me in,” Virginia quickly tries to reassure.

“Yeah, I know that now, Virginia,” Johanna’s voice is harsh and empty. “But back then, I didn’t. And I could only sleep and stomach looking at myself in the mirror when I was high on morphling. I turned into my fucking father, just an addict who only cared about not feeling the grief and pain. And I even sunk low enough to steal from a fucking child to get my fix.”

“No,” Virginia is now facing Johanna fully and irritation is apparent on her face. “You do not get to pin your addiction on me. You don’t get to pin what you did to Katniss on me.”

“I’m not saying that,” Johanna hisses, gripping the table harder. “I’m answering your fucking question Virginia, about knowing how terrifying it is waking up thinking you’re gone. I know much better than you, so don’t you dare act like I wouldn’t.”

“Okay, I phrased it badly. But you’re so angry at me for it, am I supposed to apologize for not being dead?” Virginia defeatedly shrugs.

“No, it’s not that. I just grieved you for nothing and it almost broke me. Unlike you, I didn’t have the luxury of knowing the other person was alive.”

Now it is Virginia’s turn to look like she is about to boil over with rage. Johanna’s has never seen her so angry. Virginia almost scowls at Johanna, grinds her jaw, and she’s balling her hands into fists. The pastry she was holding becomes a mess of crumbs under her powerful grasp.

“Luxury?” Virginia spits out the word with disgust. She bitterly glares at Johanna and lets her own mean, mocking laugh ring out as she shoves to her feet, “Please tell me about when my torture or trial was luxurious.”

A shameful, heavy silence engulfs them in the room. Johanna can’t say anything back after saying the worst word possible.

“Was it luxurious before or after they ripped my fucking ear off my head?” Virginia mockingly asks, “Or maybe it was luxurious when they branded tattoos off my body over and over again? Or what about when they made me relive every second of it to decide if I should be executed or not?”

Johanna looks down at the floor.

“Tell me, Johanna. Where was the fucking luxury in that?” Virginia bellows.

She’s never yelled at Johanna before this.

“The only comfort I had was that you were alive and safe. Knowing I could possibly find my way back to you was the only thing that kept me going. And now,” her chest heaves and her eyes are watery, “it feels like you’re pissed I’m alive.”

Johanna opens her mouth trying to say anything, but Virginia’s bloodshot eyes glare at her that any response she had die in her throat.

Virginia heaves a huge breath and attempts to sound calm, “I’ll see you at the train station tonight.”

“What?” Johanna dumbly asks.

“Remember, be there at eight,” Virginia’s voice evens out, she isn’t even looking at Johanna anymore. Instead moving rapidly to go grab the broom from the closet, “I’ll pack your bag, but I think you should leave.”

Johanna gapes like a fish as Virginia ignores her, calmly sweeping up the pastry she destroyed.

“You want me to leave?” Johanna asks, shocked. “You threw a fit about me leaving this morning.”

“Yeah, well that was before I knew how you felt about me being alive,” Virginia snips back, turning her head to glare at Johanna.

“You being alive is,” Johanna swallows, choking out the vulnerability, “it’s the best thing to happen to me. You know how I feel about you.” It’s the closest thing in Johanna’s cowardice that she can come to saying I love you.

Virginia looks away at seeing Johanna soften. Johanna watches her stiff shoulders droop as she lets out a tired, defeated sigh.

“I know, Johanna,” Virginia breathes out, her voice cracking on Johanna’s name. “But you aren’t making me feel that way right now. Please give me some space.”

“Are you-“

Virginia grabs the boxes of pastries and shoves them into Johanna’s arms. It makes Johanna feel incredibly small as Virginia towers over her. “Please, Johanna. Just get out.”

Johanna gives a sad accepting nod, moving over to grab a few things of Dog’s and throwing them into a bag. She clips his leash onto him and leaves without another word.

---

She can feel the disoriented mess she is becoming as she stumbles out of the complex onto the sidewalk. Like a sweater having its yarn yanked, she’s about to completely unravel. Johanna is about to lose Virginia all over again.

Johanna finds herself meandering around the Capitol for hours. She’s trapped in the prison of her mind. Saying the stupid word luxury is about to ruin the one person she has left that loves her.

Sure, Johanna has become better friends with Peeta and Katniss, but she knows she is a secondary character in their life. And after she leaves District 12, she probably will only see them a handful of times for the rest of her life. Same goes for Annie.

Without Virginia, she basically only has Dog. A companion she hasn’t even been brave enough to name. Because Johanna is a coward, unable to reconcile with the fact that naming him means the place for him in her heart is real. And coming to terms with that means that she will eventually lose him too. Johanna has Dog now, but will he even still be alive in ten years? Fifteen years?

If Dog lives fifteen years, Johanna will be a destroyed thirty-seven-year-old completely alone in the world. Just as she was at the end of the war.

And what’s the point after that?

As of this morning, Johanna’s future looks very bleak.

Johanna takes several stops to sit and pet Dog. Focusing very hard on keeping her face neutral.

It’s subconscious in her wandering, she only knows the location because of her two appointments while in the Capitol this week, but she surprises herself when she stops in front of the medical practice Dr. Minerva works at. Johanna pushes through the front doors, telling the receptionist she needs to see her doctor.

The doctor ends up praising Johanna for the growth she’s shown by acknowledging when she needs help. Within the one-hour emergency appointment, Johanna spends over forty-five minutes just updating Dr. Minerva on all the drama that has gone down. Dr. Minerva tries talking Johanna through it, explaining that it is likely Virginia just needed space so their arguing wouldn’t get any more hurtful. And Johanna deals with several minutes of gross emotional talk that takes her out of such a state of panic by the time she exits the doctor’s office.

Johanna ends up finding a park where she spends most of her day. Dog plays fetch for hours, stupidly happy with his big stick he found. She slowly consumes most of the pastries she bought, even breaking under Dog’s big begging eyes and giving him half of the croissant she’s eating.

Trying to take her mind off Virginia, she busies herself thinking of names for Dog.

“Timber?” Johanna tests a name out, seeing how the animal likes it. But Dog doesn’t show any interest, “Aspen? Oak? I don’t know, do you think we should do the whole wood thing? Or is that too on the nose?”

Dog looks at her and then nudges forward, trying to get her to pet him. Johanna chuckles and scratches behind his ears. “We’ll think on it.”

It’s as calming of a day as she could hope for after the morning she’s had. She goes to the bakery almost right at the time they said her order would be done. A very carefully packed yellow box is awaiting her. Johanna makes sure to tip them generously.

As the sunsets, she continues meandering around and going through some shops to pass time. Johanna tries to figure out if it is pathetic to get to the train station early.

About a half hour before she needs to be at the train station, Johanna realizes since she got Peeta the cupcakes, she should probably get Katniss something. She doesn’t want to, but she thinks of what Virginia would do. With the few shops still open, Johanna ends up getting several pairs of wool socks and a dinky keychain of a bow and arrow.

Johanna ends up arriving at the train station at the exact time Virginia told her to get there. She looks around hopelessly, trying to see Virginia over the small crowds of people. Her chest feels tight.

It’s pathetic the way her body sags with relief at the sight of Virginia leaning against the building with both of their bags at her side. Bloodshot hazel eyes must sense Johanna’s presence, and Johanna is thankful the lame gasp she lets out is inaudible.

Virginia just steps forward, extending her arm to hand Johanna the train ticket. Johanna grabs it and barely looks up, trying to think of something to say, but Virginia has already grabbed the bags and turned to walk into the train station. Virginia doesn’t bother to see if Johanna follows and doesn’t hold the door open for her. The latter of those actions almost makes Johanna drop the expensive cupcakes when a glass door nearly smacks her in the face.

Johanna spends most of the time it takes to get to the port where their train is leaving trying to study Virginia. She feels as if she could fly right now with the relief that Virginia has her luggage, so she must be coming back with her. She hasn’t lost her yet. But Virginia’s posture is rigid and she’s walking so fast it’s as if she doesn’t even know Johanna.

Things only feel more crushingly suffocating when they board onto the very tiny and cramped bed car of the train. They have barely begun moving as Johanna feels the reality that she is about to be in such close proximity to Virginia for almost a full day.

The tense silence overtakes the car. Johanna watches through the tiny window as the Capitol is swallowed up by mountains as they leave. She opens up her other box of pastries and eats one of the weedling brownies. She is so emotionally exhausted, and Johanna hopes it will help her sleep through most of this train ride.

Johanna busies herself settling into the tiny bed that folds out from the wall. She sees Virginia sitting on the chair and crocheting at an insane speed. She entertains herself by cracking open one of the books she bought that was apparently a part of some massive book unbanning from Pre-Panem days. The book is already a masterpiece compared the trashy capitol novels she’s bought in the past in her boredom. She begins to feel the effects of the brownie, but she continues running her eyes along the pages. The words slowly blur, and her face rests on the book, until she falls into a much-needed deep sleep.

The strength of the brownie is a nice reprieve where her mind can finally rest in the darkness of sleep. By the time she stirs awake the next morning, she tries to bolt upright, but some drool on her cheek has stuck the page of the book to her face. Johanna squints through bleary eyes, seeing the bright rays of sunlight coming in through the window.

The door of the train car opening is what must’ve awoken her. Dog comes barreling in with Virginia who unclips his leash. He jumps up onto the bed and licks Johanna’s face, she grumbles shoving at the puppy’s chest as he ends up folding several pages out of her book. He is almost whining with excitement at Johanna being awake, making a tiny smile form on her face. Johanna slowly sits up and scratches Dog’s belly as he rolls expectantly onto his back.

Johanna risks a look over at Virginia who is settling back into the chair with a crochet hook in hand. The tension that was palpable yesterday has at least chilled out a little bit as their eyes catch each other’s.

“You’re coming back with me,” Johanna dumbly blurts out when Virginia is looking at her like she isn’t some stranger.

“Astute observation, brainless,” Virginia sarcastically muses, the right side of her mouth quirks up into the white scar Johanna is so fond of. She seems less tense, trying to at least joke.

Johanna opens her mouth, unsure of where to even begin.

“We can talk more when we’re back,” Virginia cooly states before turning her attention back to the yarn in her lap. “Just need some time.”

---

Peeta is ecstatic at the cupcakes and Katniss appreciates the practicality of the wool socks. Not that Johanna really cares about their reactions.

She is too busy focusing on not buckling under the feelings of the last forty-eight hours.

Johanna peels off to the room as early as physically possible, bidding everyone goodnight and not bringing Virginia or Dog. She ignores Peeta’s concerned imploring look, but she has no energy to explain everything to him.

There is no catharsis in the way she bursts into tears as soon as she shuts the bathroom door behind herself. It’s just full body weeping and heaving. Johanna’s emotional exhaustion and horrible tolerance for being vulnerable with herself makes her very poorly equipped to deal with this. If the sight of the water in the toilet bowl didn’t make her recoil, several of her sobbing retches would send her over to dry heave in the bowl. Instead, she weakly pushes herself to her knees so she can spit in the sink.

The last two days of being so close in proximity to Virginia, but never feeling further away emotionally is debilitating.

How long until her shitty words push Virginia away?

How many more fights where cruelty spills out of her like lava will it take to permanently destroy what they have?

It’s downright unbearable to think about losing someone she loves by her own fault and harsh words. And not even that dumb Capitol Games vote being to blame, just Johanna’s shitty, shitty personality.

Johanna took Virginia’s patient understanding for granted.

A small part of her wonders if Virginia only came back with her to grab any belongings she may have left at Katniss and Peeta’s place. The idea of her leaving Johanna almost sends her spilling out the bathroom door, hoping to catch Virginia if she is packing up her stuff to leave.  

But she pulls up short at the sight of Virginia sitting on the bed. Her posture is rigid against the headboard, and her legs lay outstretched. Johanna embarrassingly scrubs at her red, tear-streaked face. Virginia’s gaze softens in a way she thought she may never experience again after yesterday.

Her response to the sight of Johanna is wordless, but speaks all the volume in the world. Virginia just opens her arms, inviting Johanna to hug her after the tense few days.

Still disoriented and wrapped up in her panic that Virginia could still leave, Johanna launches herself forward. She wraps her arms so tightly around Virginia’s shoulders that a crowbar would need to be used to pry her away. Her wet face automatically buries itself in Virginia’s neck and hair.

Virginia’s gentle hands soothingly run along her back, almost coaxing out Johanna’s remaining sobs from her embarrassing bathroom breakdown. She can vaguely hear Virginia shushing and murmuring nonsensical words.

It gives her enough strength to say what Johanna needs to say, what she’s been needing to say for the last two days since their fight.

“Please don’t go,” Johanna chokes pathetically into Virginia’s neck, her words muffled against dark olive skin. “I’m sorry for being so awful. I’m sorry I said luxury.”

In response, Virginia tightens her arms around Johanna, pulling her in even closer if physically possible. Johanna feels herself melting into it, even going so far as readjusting her position. Her knees digging into the mattress shuffle, so she is no longer crouched beside Virginia, smoothly moving into her lap.

When Johanna’s near hyperventilating turns into random hiccups, she feels Virginia’s grip loosening. At first her own arms tighten around Virginia’s shoulders and Johanna stubbornly digs her face into Virginia’s tear-soaked neck and collar.

“Easy there, muscles,” Virginia teases lightly. One hand on Johanna’s back goes up to grab Johanna’s forearm locked behind Virginia’s neck. A large warm hand grips Johanna’s forearm, squeezing it softly and Virginia slowly runs her thumb along the skin where Johanna’s pulse is still skyrocketing. “I’m not going anywhere, let go. I want to look at you.”

Reluctantly, with some more urging from Virginia meaningfully squeezing her forearm, Johanna loosens her grip enough to let Virginia pull back. Johanna disentangles herself from where she basically gave Virginia’s neck a shower with tears, embarrassingly she drops her grip on one of Virginia’s shoulders to rub away the moisture staining her neck.

Johanna still doesn’t fully look at Virginia. A finger goes under Johanna’s chin, trying to lift her gaze to level with hers. But stubborn as always, Johanna resists. After drying Virginia’s skin, Johanna moves that hand to grab the back of her neck so Virginia can’t just make Johanna leave.

“Jo,” Virginia whispers, her finger pushing harder under Johanna’s chin. “Please look at me.”

Lifting her chin, brown eyes meet hazel and a shaky breath rips out of both their mouths. The finger on Johanna’s chin moves to cup her face. She briefly shuts her eyes and lets herself lean into the touch as Virginia’s thumbs absentmindedly wipe at any stray tears on Johanna’s cheek.

“Jo,” Virginia murmurs again.

It makes Johanna’s eyes snap open, meeting an earnest gaze that Johanna thinks could be loving. A tiny sad smile tugs on the corner of Virginia’s mouth. The emotion in the room is thick and palpable, and it gives Johanna the courage to lean forward and do what she always wants to do when Virginia’s smile does that. Quickly, Johanna brushes a chaste kiss against the white scar and pulls back.

Virginia’s eyes look a little wetter.

“I know we have a lot to talk about and neither of us really want to do that this second,” Virginia continues. “But Johanna, I’m really sorry. When I told you to leave yesterday, it was only because I needed time alone so I could calm down, but I can see how it affected you. I could see it at the train station, how shocked and relieved you were that I was coming with you, and I’m so sorry I made you question it.”

“You can understand why I thought you didn’t want to come back,” Johanna mumbles, looking over Virginia’s shoulder at the headboard. “I was being a bitch. You tried to help me with the greenhouse, and I took it out on you when it wasn’t your fault. And I took the shower stuff personally and just got mean. I’m so bad at this, I can’t stop hurting you.”

The hand not holding Johanna’s face moves to grip her hip. A bit of a bigger smile spreads across Virginia’s face, “Not going back with you never crossed my mind, Johanna. You mean everything to me, I’ll always be by your side, even on the bad days. It takes a whole lot to hurt me, and even then, I won’t change my mind about you. I meant it when I said that, and I meant it when I tell you I love you.”

With that, Johanna lets herself fully look at Virginia again and she can feel the dumb smile forming on her own face. Johanna bites down on the corner of her mouth to suppress it so she doesn’t look deranged with a grin that big while she looks like such a disaster.

“I want that too,” Johanna eventually gathers the strength to say. She immediately flits her eyes away to add on, “But you know it’s not going to be easy. I’m not easy to deal with, I still need time to even say it-“

“Johanna, when have you ever been easy to deal with?” Virginia cuts her off with a teasing smile. “I like that about you, you challenge me. And I feel like my life has been made so much better by having you in it.”

“If you keep saying really sweet things like that, I’m going to kiss you,” Johanna teases, fighting the urge to just lean in and do it.

“You say it like that’s a threat and not a motivator.”

Johanna rolls her eyes and gives in. Letting herself surge forward to kiss her. She can feel the way any remainder of fears and anxieties about Virginia dissipate with the pressure of her lips. Unlike their usual kisses, Johanna keeps it brief, pulling away after a few seconds. She presses her forehead against Virginia’s keeping her eyes closed.

“Sucks for you, I’m such an asshole I never say sweet stuff like that,” Johanna mumbles.

“Oh, nice try, hot shot. I have several examples of very corny, romantic things you’ve said to me in the last few weeks,” Virginia teases.

“Alright, time to shut you up,” Johanna jokes as she leans back in to press a warm, long kiss against Virginia’s lips. And it’s like finally coming home.

Notes:

heyyy sorry for the delay (again) hopefully the 12k word update makes up for the wait :)!

Thanks to those who interact, i love hearing what you guys think in your comments. It all helps a lot especially when i have such bad writers block with these gaps in updates.

Up next in Chapter 21: The rest of their time in District 12. Johanna's winter assignment is in District 4, which means reuniting with Annie and meeting the baby. It also means dealing with a lot of water.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of The Hunger Games (Johanna's Version)