A/N:

*WARNING! CONTAINS SPOILERS*

Special thanks to the awesome Keyboard Caberet who looked over it for me.

Some language. Set in Mockingjay.

Enjoy.

I watch as Johanna's face contorts as the drip enters the crook of her arm. As the morphling offers her the relief she was seeking I feel her muscles relax and she leans further into my bed. The weight makes me shift uncomfortably, both because of the pain that slices through me and the shock of her proximity. She notices my discomfort through the haze of her satisfaction and offers me a grin, shifting to support more of her body weight herself.

"I don't know how you're still doing this." she remarks as she she gestures vaguely at me, then at the drip in her arm. I don't reply. I just look at her. I watch how her chest rises and falls with each steady breath. I notice how she's gaining weight again and allow myself a small smile. She's starting to look more like the strong Johanna we all know. But looking strong, appearing to be strong and powerful isn't the same as feeling strong and powerful. I of all people know that.

She's not looking at me. Instead her gaze is turned towards the ceiling. The morphling must be going to her head. I snicker, but not too much; the pain and lethargy are limiting my movements. Even so, it's enough to snap her out of whatever daze she was in. "Something amuse you, brainless?" she asks with her customary snark.

I just shake my head in response, the absence of the morphling making it painful to talk. I lack the strength to make a sarcastic comment in return. She accepts my silent reply with a smirk, but her eyes seem somehow softer than before. Then I remember what she said. "What did you mean earlier?" I scan my eyes pointedly over the morphling, one of the things she gestured to when she made her statement.

"I meant exactly that. I don't know how you're still doing this. Dealing with the useless lump you've become with your body in pain and shock from a bullet that didn't even touch you." she snorts as she finishes her sentence.

The same annoyance I felt for her in the arena rears its head, but before I could tell her how badly I wanted to tape her pretty mouth shut she speaks again, "Calm down, you're doing that annoying thing when you over-think. I'll tell you now, no one will benefit from those little thoughts of yours."

"Whatever." I mumble and sink further into my bed. "The bullet didn't touch me at all?" I question. That doesn't make much sense, not with the amount of pain I'm currently in.

"No. Cinna's outfit did a hell of a job protecting you. But you did rupture your spleen. They weren't able to repair it. It's not like it matters anyway, it's not like you need one. Though if you did demand one, I doubt they'd refuse you. It's everybody's job to keep you alive."

"You sound bitter." I prompt.

She laughs mirthlessly and shakes her head, "Oh I am, trust me, but it's not what you think."

"What is it then?" I try not to sound desperate, but I can tell by the gleam in her eye that she knows I'm dying to know who or where her bitterness is directed.

"You wouldn't understand." she sighs and runs her hands through her hair. Her movements falter momentarily as the realisation dawns on her that there's not much of her hair left on her head. There's a small amount remaining - just enough to cover up the scars. Not as much as she'd like, I know.

I try to smile sympathetically at her, but it doesn't quite work. I'm still not used to consoling others. For her sake, I wish I was.

"What are you looking at?" She tries to bark but it doesn't have her desired effect. She sounds tired, almost resigned. "I look a mess, you don't have the make a big deal about it."

"Is that why you think I can't stop looking?"

"Why else would you stare at me so much? Other than to imagine what I would look like while you're strangling me."

"I don't think about strangling you." She raises an eyebrow at me. "I think about knocking you unconscious, taking your voice box and feeding it to Buttercup." I know that she knows I'm being facetious, so when she chuckles lowly I smile. "Hmm, actually, if we weren't in this mess and I'd met you under different circumstances," I pause and hold her gaze "I would've gotten the capitol to alter your voice."

"Alter my voice?" She repeats slowly.

I have no idea where I'm going with this, so I just say something I know she'll hate. "Yeah, maybe make you sound more pleasant, like... I don't know Cashmere."

"Cashmere?" she makes a look of disgust. "Of all people you say her?"

I shrug, "Don't you think she sounded angelic?"

Johanna gasps, "I'm sorry I'm not angelic enough for you mighty Mockingjay"

"Don't call me that." I mumble, "I'm just kidding anyway. I think-" I hesitate for a moment. If I say it she'll just tease me. "Your voice, I like it. It's comforting. It's like when you're in a crowd and you hear the voice of someone important to you, and you're reassured that they're there. Even if all they're doing is calling your name."

As soon as it's out of my mouth I'm wincing at my own stupidity.

But she doesn't mock me as I'd expected. instead she says "I kind of get it. I mean, everyone's clinging on to something to keep us sane right? Both your lover boys' are clinging on to the hope of having you, Haymitch is clinging on to his bottle, I bet even your precious sisters' cat is probably clinging on to the leftovers. Everyone, clinging desperately to their sanity."

I'm grateful that she gets it, but something she said is echoing in my mind. 'both of your lover boys'. Is she jealous? I've seen her flirting with Gale and Peeta, but Peeta's convinced that she does it to get a reaction from me. I don't like the thought of her flirting with either of them. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who are you clinging to?" I clarify, even though I'm sure she knew what I meant.

"No one. I've already told you, brainless, there's nobody left that I love."

I find myself staring at her once more. The way her eyes flicker from side to side, a world of pain hidden behind them. The way her body deflates slightly as if it's physically draining her to even have this conversation. It still doesn't stop me from saying, "Nobody at all?"

Her eyes snap back to mine. She doesn't say anything for a while, instead searching my eyes. I look back, confused. I'm not sure what she's looking for, but she doesn't seem to like what she finds. "I'm not like the rest of you." she says, "If we hadn't gotten away from Snow and the Capitol you would've been his puppet until you died. Although I'm sure that if you hadn't escaped that arena you would've most likely been blown to pieces or poisoned. But that's the difference between you and me. I'm not his puppet, I never have been and I never will be. If I weren't such good friends with my axe I might've just started my own rebellion." she smirks at me.

It annoys me that she's trying to distract me and annoys me even more that she succeeds. "I'm not his puppet." I defend feebly, "I mean, I wasn't his puppet."

"Oh please," she rolls her eyes "I could practically see his hand up your ass. Don't think I've forgotten all that 'Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever' bullshit. Eugh. I still can't believe you let him treat you like that. I would've chopped that snakes' bal-"

"Okay! I get it, you wouldn't have taken any crap from him. It's not like I had a choice. He threatened to kill the people I love. I can't afford anything happening to Prim. She's so young and she deserves so much better than a sister who's the face of rebellion."

"I know." she sighs, "Love makes you do crazy things. It's weird and I don't understand it. It's been a long time since I've had anything to do with love and I guess it just confuses me when people do those crazy things, especially someone like you."

My eyebrows raise slightly. Someone like me? My silent question is understood, and she explains "Those rebels in the districts look up to you like you have the solutions to all their problems. They think that you're invincible, unbreakable." she chuckles bitterly, "Little do they know that if Snow were to get hold of your loved ones you'd turn on them in a heartbeat. My, my, my, if only they knew how fragile the girl on fire really is." her tone had turned mocking.

I don't know why she's saying these things but I know one thing - Johanna likes to test me. She'll say something or do something just to get a reaction from me. I know she's waiting to for me to retaliate, I can feel the bitterness on the tip of my tongue, the string of harsh words that I'm positive are enough to stop her talking to me. However, instead of unleashing my vitriol I swallow it down, feeling the gall settle somewhere deep inside me and praying it remains there.

Because as much as it stings, I know the truth of her words. Isn't that what I almost did? When President Snow shook his head, when I first realised I'd failed to stop the rebellion, hadn't my first instinct been to run? To save my loved ones and flee somewhere deep into the woods, leaving the chaos behind me? I think back to when I proposed my plan to Gale and how he reacted. How he would gladly have gone with me, right up until the mention of an uprising in district 8. Then he'd changed his mind. I remember the fire in his eyes at the opportunity to overpower the Capitol, the determination in his voice as he'd elected to stay and fight. I'll never forget one of the last few words he'd said before he storming off: You could do so much.

It's not like I'd planned to be the face of a rebellion. Whatever plan I'd had, I know this wasn't it. I don't deserve to be an inspiration for all these people. I hadn't spared a thought for the other families I would've abandoned. I didn't think twice about the starving, sick families that would've been left to suffer the torment of the Capitol. I paid no mind to the people that would've been tortured on suspicion of knowing where I had gone.

Suddenly a memory is flickering and surfacing in my mind. The conversation I'd had with Snow when he'd come to visit, when he admitted that the system was fragile. 'It must be very fragile, if a handful of berries can bring it down.' I'd told him.

If something as powerful as the Capitol could be brought down with a few berries, then how could I possibly keep going when I stood to lose everything I held dear?

But then I think of all the people I have behind me. There's more of us than there are of them. And we're training. We're working. There are people willing to fight because of me. I need to stop thinking of it as a burden and start thinking of it as a chance. A chance to make a difference. A chance to change lives.

I have to fight. We have to fight. We have to win. I have to win for Prim. Prim would beg me to win. Rue would beg me to win.

Rue.

The shards of grief that pierce my heart haven't dwindled with time. I feel my eyes water and try to blink my sorrow away. I wish she was here. But I know that if Marvel hadn't killed her, then it would have been down to me. How could I possibly have...?

I feel anger coalescing my blood, my heart pounding fit to burst. If it weren't for the games she would still be here. If it weren't for the fucking Capitol my heart would never have been broken. The Capitol have shoved their blood-soaked hands down my throat, ripped it right out and tormented me with it. I can still feel the torturous hold they have on me, even after my escape.

I clench my jaw tightly and look more through Johanna than at her. I can feel my eyes glaze and as I open my mouth to speak, my throat constricts and I choke on my words. I clear my throat and try again.

"You're right. I am fragile." I pause and focus on her properly to gauge her reaction at my unexpected response. If she's taken aback she doesn't show it. She merely tilts her head to the side slightly and prompts me with a sharp nod of her head. "But my pain is just making me hungrier to bring them down." I continue with gritted teeth, "To bring him down. To make him pay for what he's put me through. To make him pay for killing us. To make him pay for turning us into animals. To make him pay for turning us intotoys for his games. I am fragile, but it doesn't mean there's not a fire burning inside of me, years of torment that I'm just dying to unleash on him. I'm going to do this even if it kills me. If I die, I die for Prim. I die for Rue. I die for everyone out there fighting in my name. If I die, I'm dragging Snow straight down with me."

By the time I'm finished my chest is heaving with each breath. Johanna's looking at me with the warmest eyes and a proud little smile on her face. I feel her emotion break away from her and roll through me in unexpected waves, smothering the bitterness and the hatred. I close my eyes and allow myself to get lost in the feeling.

"And you say you aren't good with words." she scoffs after several moments of silence.

I smile shyly, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the bedclothes. I feel the heat dusted on my cheeks cool slightly. "I'm not that good." I mumble, "I mean, it's Peeta who always knows what to say. I always say the wrong thing and even when I think I get it right people take what I say in different ways. I said I'm prepared to fight, I'm still working on the whole rousing speech thing." I shrug.

"I don't think that'll be a problem. You don't need him - Peeta. You've already started the revolution, you just need to add the right amount of fuel to the fire and you'll move people to act. After all, you managed to talk to Caesar just fine. The whole of Panem was watching you, what kept you calm? And it seemed to be flowing out of you pretty easily just now."

I ignore her comment about not needing Peeta and instead explain, "I'm comfortable around you so it's not that hard." I don't want to sound too personal so I add, "And when I was on the stage I would look at Cinna and I wouldn't be nervous." I smile ruefully, "He would be there. He was always there. He always believed in me and whenever I felt my knees shake I would see him sitting there, nodding his head with a little smile that I knew was just for me. He was betting on me till the day he died. I used to waste time feeling sorry for myself because he's gone but then I realised he's still here, y'know?"

"How so?" Johanna rolls her eyes, "And don't say anything too cheesy, it'd be a shame for me to puke back up the little amount food that I've managed to stomach. Continue." she finishes with a disinterested wave.

I shoot her a look of annoyance. "I mean these outfits that he made. I know they can't fill the space he left but they put me at ease and I feel every little detail he put into them. The pocket in the collarbone. The careful tailored layers of body armor. The amount of weapons I can hide in them. He knew just what to do for me, every time. I can feel his care in them all. He knew it would prevent a lot of fatal injuries and that I would feel confident wearing them for all of Panem to see. Like everything else he's made for me."

"Well I'm glad my stomach stayed settled through your little... speech. But I did always admire his outfits."

I think back to when I first met Johanna. She'd complimented one of the dresses I'd worn on the Victory Tour. She must be into pretty dresses, something I just can't comprehend. I imagine her having an axe as an accessory instead of a clutch. The thought amuses me, picturing Johanna going to an event with a beautiful dress, axe firmly in one hand, champagne glass in the other.

"Yeah, they were pretty." I agree.

"Hmm." she hums with her eyes closed - she still has my morphling. Languidly, she opens her eyes and turns her head to look at me, "You really pulled them off. I think you looked-" she pauses, "really nice. I think you looked nice in those dresses. Still think they would've looked better on me though." she shrugs.

I breathe out a laugh, "If you say so."

"I do. I think the flames would've really brought out my eyes, don't you think?" she jokes and flutters her eyes coyly at me.

I know she's just teasing but I can't help but drop my gaze. I can't help the tingle that starts in my fingertips and spreads slowly through me, settling somewhere deep in the bottom of my stomach, creating butterflies to flutter inside me. Scolding myself for my reaction, I glance back up at her for a moment. She's gazing at me with a confused by slightly knowing look.

I clear my throat awkwardly, "Yeah, it would. And might just warm you up a bit, make a change from all that ice."

She chuckles lightly. Her face has taken on a familiar calculating look, as though searching for something in my eyes. Something's different about it this time, though. Her eyes seem a shade lighter. Then she sighs heavily, "It's not like it'll ruin my life or anything if I tell you, plus we're probably going to die soon anyway. I don't trust 13 but they're not torturing me so I guess I shouldn't complain too much. Anyway... there was someone I loved. Once." she casts her gaze somewhere off to my side and her eyes flicker as she loses herself in memories, "not a family member either. I guess you could say I had a lover."

Her eyes connect with mine when she says it and I realise I must look completely baffled. I don't know why she's sharing this with me, of all people. Maybe she's had too much morphling. Or maybe she just can't hold it in any longer. Snow made it his job to give the Capitol the secrets of their beloved Tributes; the citizens practically thrived on such scandalous gossip. I don't recall anyone mentioning anything about this lover of Johanna's. She must have kept it buried pretty deep all these years. Clearly something has made her need to voice it at last - something urgent if she's chosen to spill to me, though I suppose it's not like she has much of a choice.

"A lover? How old was he?"

She closes her eyes tightly and I see the muscles in her jaw strain as she clenches her teeth. "My lover was a year younger than me. We went to the same school but we never spoke until after the games. I didn't expect anyone to come and say goodbye, not even my family."

"Was he there?"

I've seen the look she's giving me right now before. It's the look Haymitch gives me when I say something that's not right, when I get the wrong idea about something, when he's trying to let me figure it by myself rather than telling me. I replay the last few sentences in my head.

I can feel her looking at me impatiently as she waits for me to work it out

Then it clicks. Oh.

Johanna spots the recognition and surprise in my eyes and a small smirk forms on her face. I will myself not to look at her lips.

"So, you're..." I trail off, not knowing how to put it.

"I'm not interested in labels." she sighs, as if she's explained this to me a thousand times already.

"Okay." I shrug.

"Okay." She repeats and shifts on the bed into a more comfortable position. "But yes, they were there. They were there and they told me that they liked me and it was upsetting that we never got the chance to talk. I don't remember what I said, if I even said anything, but then a lot of things were a blur that day. I'm sure you know how that feels. All I kept thinking as I was in training and then in the arena was that someone out there was rooting for me. I won for them. I won because I thought they were worth fighting for. I wasn't going to let anyone take that away from me." she chuckles bitterly through her teeth and clenches her jaw, "I was foolish to think we had the chance to be together."

"What happened when you got back?"

"Don't interrupt me. I got back and when the cameras had finally pissed off we spent all our time together, though we pretended like we were just friends. I would spend most of my time in the Victor's Village and they'd come over after school. I got a few trees planted in my garden that I could axe down, they would watch me for hours. Sometimes joined in."

I can't help but comment, "Sounds romantic."

She shoots me a warning look, annoyed that I spoke. "It was, it's one of my fondest memories. The best times though were when we would just lie on the grass in the back garden and relax. No words needed to be spoken, we would sit there for hours. They'd lie there with their eyes close and a relaxed smile on their face. I would just stare and try to soak up every detail of them. I would trace my finger over their face, memorising them so completely I would see them whenever I closed my eyes. I would run my fingers through their silky, chocolate hair and watch the way it fluttered in the summer breeze. We would talk. Well... I would mostly listen and memorise the sound of their voice. The two of us spent so much time together, we had the occasional sleep over, it was starting to raise a few eyebrows. I would deny it, we would somehow convince people that we were just friends, and that was enough for a while. But after a year their mother found out. I don't know who told her or what happened, all I know is that one evening she turned up to take my love away. She accused me of corrupting her child, threatened to tell the peacekeepers that I was sleeping with a minor. I think she'd been waiting to say that one for a while, I'd not long turned 18. She turned to her child and offered a choice, to stay with me and never be a part of the family again or go home and leave me. I was so sure that my love would stand up for us, fight to keep us alive, like I had done. But they chose family. They tried to reason with me before they left, they begged me to understand that they didn't have a choice, that it was because they couldn't trust that I'd stay with them long enough. We never spoke again. I turned away the few times I saw them in the square. I guess I'm lucky nothing got out, no one knew what happened and I suppose that made it a little easier to get over. I spent so many nights thinking about what could have been if things were different."

Her eyes look glassy and my heart aches for her. I hold my tongue because I'm positive there is nothing I can say to make her feel better.

"It doesn't matter anymore though, they're married now and I'm over them." she shrugs.

I smile sympathetically at her, and sensing that her story is over I deem it safe to ask, "Did they not say goodbye to you before you left for the Quell?"

She starts slightly at the sound of my voice, as though she'd forgotten I was there. Recovering, she answers, "No. I didn't get any goodbyes. It's not like I wanted to say goodbye to anyone, so it didn't make a difference to me."

I don't believe that she's completely over it but I'm not about to voice my thoughts. It's evidently a touchy subject for her and she generally doesn't like it when I talk. I change the topic in an attempt to dispel the gloomy mood that's engulfed the conversation, "I don't need to call Haymitch and arrange an intervention, do I?"

"Huh?"

I point to the morphling still in her arm. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't go all District 6 on me."

She catches on to what I'm saying and looks at her arm. Then she makes a noise of disgust, "It'd be nice to live in that world forever but no, I'm not going to be one of those morphling's. I have killing peacekeepers and the fight to look forward to. I wouldn't miss it for the world." she smiles.

"I bet." I murmur.

She asks me something as she starts to absentmindedly swing her dangling legs. I don't catch what she says because I'm suddenly focussed on her skinny legs, the years of developed muscle erased by the capitol. I remember noticing them on the beach in the arena, the tightness of her suit hugging her body perfectly and highlighting the outline of her muscles. She's training to get her old shape back, and she's doing really well.

"Brainless." She snaps. I jerk my eyes back up to her face.

"Do you listen to anything?"

I feign hurt, "Of course, you just asked me if you could get my food."

She laughs a little. "Nice try. You better not be plotting anything. Anyway, I asked what you were looking forward to."

The question throws me off a little. "When this mess is finished? Or in the fight to finish this mess?" I ask.

She's staring at her swinging her legs as she replies, "Both."

I hum in thought. "I can't wait to sleep without feeling scared. I can't wait to walk on land without feeling threatened. I can't wait to spend time with my family without worrying about protecting them from my enemy's. I can't wait for peace." I start picking at my nails and recall how much my prep team hated this habit. From the corner of my eye I see Johanna's legs go still.

I hear a sharp intake of breath and look up, straight into her suddenly conflicted eyes. She skews her mouth to one side and frowns, looking as though she's mulling something over in her head. Then she reaches over and parts my hands that are still joined from the nail picking, takes them and holds them in hers. The tingling that I'd felt earlier when she fluttered her eyes at me returns and intensifies, warmth spreading through my heart as she squeezes our joined hands.

"Those motherfuckers ruined our lives, and we're going to kill them." She growls. I feel the corners of my mouth lift, then she whispers, "They're not just your enemy okay? You're not alone. They're ours as well. We're all with you, Girl On Fire." one hand releases mine and reaches forward to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, "We're betting on you. I'm betting on you." Her hand lingers on the base of my neck.

I feel the sting from the familiar words of a dead friend. Then I feel relief. I feel a burden being lifted off my shoulders. The reminder that there are others who are willing to help me carry this heavy weight brings me relief I didn't know I was craving. I may not trust the soldiers in 13 but I do have all the people that I trust here with me. All fully prepared to go to war. All of us hungry to pay back all the times the Capitol has betrayed us. Seeking vengeance. Fighting for a better future.

I feel Johanna's warm fingers stroke the base of my neck and although it makes me tingle I'm suddenly uncomfortable and she's got a faraway look in her eye that makes me question if she realises what she's doing.

I make a point of clearing my throat and I feel her fingers freeze. She slowly meets my eyes and smiles apologetically at me. Then she traces one last circle with her fingers before removing her hands. I feel the warmth of contact leave with her.

Johanna shuffles away, putting distance between us.

The silence is unbearable, so I break it with a "Thank you."

"Um, for… for what?" she stammers, flustered.

"For saying what you said. It's nice to be reminded that it's not just me. And that you're prepared to fight."

Johanna smirks, "I'm always prepared to fight. And it's not always about you, you need to be reminded that sometimes."

I roll my eyes, "Whatever."

"Seriously though, you need to make sure that you're not just thinking of yourself and the people you love. Think of everyone else who will be freed from the enslavement of the Capitol. If this all blows up, it's not just us and the Capitol that burns, it could be all of Panem. We could all be ashes. Haymitch was talking about it."

"Haymitch?" I blurt out, confused. I cross my arms defensively, "Why didn't he say anything to me? Where was I when this special meeting with Haymitch took place?" I don't like the thought of being in the dark about anything, especially at this point, and didn't Johanna just say we're all in this together? There shouldn't be any secrets.

"Calm down." She reaches over and places a hand on my arm, then snatches it back as if she'd been burned. "He didn't want to say anything while you were still in recovery." I know it's more than that because she's in recovery as well. When I say nothing, she sighs and continues, "He wants you to just stay focused on your task of being the Mockingjay and get that right. He doesn't want to worry you - he'd kill me if he knew I was telling you now. Haymitch is just thinking about every scenario that could potentially occur if things go wrong."

That doesn't make any sense. I feel my blood boil with anger for Haymitch, he's not supposed to be thinking like that. We need to focus on winning rather than what would happen if I go wrong. It hurts a little that he doesn't have that faith in me.

"Oh." is all I say.

In the haze of my mixed thoughts I hear Johanna grumbling to herself, calling herself an idiot for what she'd told me.

She sighs again. She's been doing that a lot, clearly choosing her words very carefully. "It wasn't his idea. Coin demanded that he has to think of both sides. He argued that it's not necessary but Coin was adamant. I didn't want to bring her up right now but I have to clear up the mess I made. Don't be angry at Haymitch. Now's not the time."

I think I nod, I'm not sure. The only thing I can register are the millions of thoughts flying around in my head. Mostly to do with Coin and what she's really up to.

I feel Johanna flick my hand, "Don't be angry at Haymitch. Now is not the time." She repeats, enunciating the last sentence, providing a flick at my hand with each syllable. "Okay?" she adds.

"Okay." I repeat.

"Good girl." she says condescendingly.

The lack of morphling has started to catch up to me and I can feel drowsiness encroaching relentlessly into my awareness. The only thing I can come up with is "Shut up."

Johanna smirks, "Nice comeback." She teases.

"Whatever."

Johanna notices I'm running on empty and detaches the morphling from her arm, hissing as it pulls it out and cursing under her breath.

"Here." she says as she holds the morphling out for me to take.

It frustrates me that I don't have enough in me to grasp the morphling and Johanna offers to put it in me. "Okay" I agree.

The fatigue hit me so fast I don't even have the energy to apologise for cutting our conversation short.

"At least you'll be unconscious now, I was starting to think this was never going to end. Nearly put you out myself." She mutters as she concentrates on entering the morphling back into my arm.

As she's adjusting the needle, it starts to seep into my bloodstream and I moan a little in appreciation of the relief. I feel her motions halt for a moment before she whispers something and then continues, making sure it's comfortable.

"Okay enough for you princess?" she askes, tone suddenly gentle.

"Hmm." I hum in contentment. The ways her nails are raking over my scalp is making me sleepy. I half expect her to sing me a lullaby. I smile a little as her fingers comb through my hair. I realise she's humming a tune, but I'm fading in and out of consciousness so I can't make it out properly. All I know is that it's soothing.

I'm on the verge of falling into complete slumber when I feel a light pressure on my lips. A fingernail grazes slightly over my lower lip.

Then something replaces the finger.

Lips.

Lips that are soft and send my body tingling once more. I let my heavy eyelids fall shut and allow the heat and sensation of proximity to wash over me, sparks shooting under my skin even as the morphling begins to carry me away. I've never known such soft, inviting lips, never felt this much from just one tender, close-mouthed kiss.

Suddenly she's pulling away. For a moment I struggle to follow her, to not let this stop, but the drugs have suffused my system and every inch of me is like lead pinning me down. I think I hear an intake of breath somewhere above me.

Then she's leaning down again and I feel her warm breath on my ear. She whispers something in my good ear: "You remind me of her." I hear her voice crack on the last word.

I know who she's talking about and one of the very last things I hear is the sweet goodnight she bids.

I dream of her and I in another world. I know what she meant now when she said she wondered what would be if things weren't the way they were.

My final thought before total unconsciousness is of Johanna, and how I've just been handed one more reason to keep fighting.