"Johanna?"
Annie's voice seems to wander aimlessly through the air, as if it's uncertain it's left her mouth at all. Johanna sighs, curled up tight in a ball against the wall of her cell.
Most of the time it's a curse these walls are so thin, making the screams sound as if their owners are right in the same room as her. Sometimes though, rarely, they're a blessing. When there's a short reprieve from the torture, when they're all lucid and they can speak to one another. Lucidity slips away day by day now, and even when they can rest Johanna can't get Peeta to talk to her anymore, and all she can hear from his cell are mumbles about Katniss being the cause of all their misery.
And now, now Johanna doesn't have the energy to comfort, to even snap. A dampness clings to her and she twitches and shivers whenever a drop forms big enough to slide down her back. Her throat is raw and she tastes metallic as she breathes. She hurts and she feels pathetic, and she doesn't want to have to be Johanna Mason for anyone right now. Least of all for Annie Cresta, the one person she actually wants to be nice to.
"Johanna?" Annie tries again, voice wavering now with more than a hint of fear.
Johanna cringes, she doesn't want Annie to think she's up and died on her.
"Yeah," she manages to croak. It's so soft she's about to try again, but she hears Annie exhale with relief.
"Finnick would be sad if you died, Jo, please don't."
Johanna nestles her forehead against her knees and swears.
Annie must hear because she laughs quietly.
"Sorry, I know I- I talk about him a lot. But it helps. Keeps me focused."
Johanna doesn't uncurl herself.
"He loves you."
Johanna scowls at her lap.
"Do you love him?" Annie sounds far away, distracted, almost frightened.
Johanna uncurls, looks doubtfully at the wall. "Yes," she says hoarsely, wondering why Annie asked.
".. But not the way I love him?"
Johanna almost laughs at this. "No."
Annie is quiet, then her voice comes back more strongly. "He's your best friend."
Johanna puts her head against the wall that separates them. "Yes."
Johanna can hear the smile in Annie's voice. "And you're his best friend."
Johanna almost smiles back. "Yes."
"I'm so glad. You need each other."
Johanna feels a lump in her throat. She can almost picture his big dumb smile, the cocky way he tilts his head at her, the green mischief of his eyes. "Yes."
But even as she says it she's not sure if he needs her as much as she needs him. He has Annie. And he's a charmer, he can make friends so much easier than she can. All she has is him, the big-headed lug. The only person who gets her, her best friend in the whole world.
She's so glad Finnick got out. If she regrets anything, it's that Annie is in here with her and not by his side.
And Peeta, she regrets him being here too. Poor Lover Boy with his messed up head.
(When it comes down to it she wishes only Enobaria had been caught, creepy bitch).
"I worry about him so," Annie muses quietly. "Without us, he'll be a wreck."
Johanna laughs again, causing a sharp pain at the back of her throat. "He's probably walking around 13 confused and naked."
Annie's laughter is lyrical in return, sounding so much healthier than Johanna's miserable hack. "Whereas with us there he'd just be naked?"
"Nah. You there, he'd keep his clothes on like a good boy."
"Not that I'd want them on all the time."
Johanna can't help grinning. Annie fucking Cresta making sex jokes has to be some sort of miracle. Then again, all the times Johanna had met her before she'd been nothing like the damp mousey basket-case she'd been expecting. She just never failed to be surprised by it.
A droplet of water slides against her spine and she jumps and lets out a whimper.
"Oh, Jo," Annie says quietly, a whisper of concern and care.
"I'm fine," Johanna says. Not convincing in the slightest.
Annie is silent, then Johanna hears her shift and Annie's voice is almost confident. "I know, Johanna. You're the best of us."
"No, I'm not," Johanna says with a tight, toothy grin. "He is."
Annie lets out a breathy chuckle and Johanna can picture her nodding. "Yes. He is."
"And he'll be here soon."