o1. This is the Way the World Starts
[warning for slurs (ableist), cursing, mention/implication of forced sex]
He had seen it live. He had been behind that invisible, impenetrable wall that separated the back stage from the main arena, mentoring. No one in Panem would likely ever forget the Girl Who'd Changed the Rules. The Girl who had held a funeral for the dying Mockingbird from District Eleven. The Girl who'd run into danger not for herself but for the boy she might not even have loved. The Girl who'd raised a metaphorical middle finger to the Capitol with a handful of berries- and received the reaction Jo had probably been searching for for years with her much more literal version.
But as the DVD played across the screen, Finnick watched.
When he heard the door swing open, he didn't look up. Whoever had a key to the too-nice, usually vacant apartment had every right to be there. There was no fear- after all, it wasn't like no one else in country wasn't reliving the Nightlock end to the Seventy Fourth Games. And beyond that, every previous victor turned unwitting competitor was likely rewatching the victories that had earned them a place in this year's Quell. Besides, how much more could they do to him?
"What, didn't get enough of this all year?"
Without missing a beat: "You know me, Jo. I'm a glutton for punishment."
"It'd be weird if you weren't."
Johanna Mason settled next to him where he sat on the floor. They did not touch; he felt her presence anyway in inches of heat he wished he could memorize into his skin instead of the flesh facts he didn't want to know (like how blood was still warm when it hit you in a spray, and how quickly it cooled after its host was dead). He knew from experience that the gentleness of no-contact heat would not last, and he'd get tangled in the moment if he thought about it.
"But my point still stands. You don't really need to be watching anything, let alone this shit. Unless you're into giving yourself a panic attack which- hey- everybody has their thing-"
"Jo."
She made some kind of sound, like leaves over bone, which constituted as much of a laugh as either of them could manage away from Capitol eyes. Finnick let the equivalent smile ghost over his lips, more at the relief of anger unaccompanied by death than the thin pseudo joke.
Somehow, Jo never quite fit into her age. Not from where he sat. That flippant, virulent pattern of speech was hard as brass on his tongue and too often than not made him feel like that fresh faced, fourteen year old victor-corpse again. Young and inexperienced and keenly aware of every weakness that would surely be his downfall in the long run.
Not that he expected Johanna to care one way or the other that he'd waken occasionally at night, apologizing to someone who would never hear him, hyperventilating until he had to run to the bathroom and empty his empty stomach. Never in front of her, but he hadn't lied by omission or otherwise.
They lapsed into silence, words flowing out with the pull of the tide as Katniss Everdeen pressed a handful of berries into Peeta Mellark's hand. Berries that had already killed one of the last remaining players in the game. Through the glass of the television, through the fog of removal and time, they showed the Capitol their hand- in every sense possible- and like words remembered from a nightly dream the Gamemaker's voice cut smoothly in, announcing the end of something that hadn't even felt real in the first place.
"What are you thinking?'
And with her voice dimmed, Finnick was once again thrown by how young she sounded. By how young she was, how young they both were.
"I don't know." He didn't.
"Mmm?"
"Or- I don't want to know. I don't want to think. Sometimes I feel like if I start..."
"You won't stop."
"Yeah."
What do you feel then?
She hadn't asked that, and he didn't realize he'd had enough wits about him to ask himself. Even though it was the next logical question; even though they operated more on instinct than was wise because as much as you needed intelligence to play the game outside the Arena you can't go through a war without falling into a baser pattern of action and reaction.
He watched as the image of the victor- victors- faded from the screen. The video came to end. His eyes were still glassy, all seeing, no processing.
"... It's her, you know. It has to be her." By now he's used to hearing his voice without feeling his jaw and throat move to form the words. It doesn't surprise him.
"I know."
"No, I mean- not just the plan. It has to be her. She's the only one... the only who- who's come out alive."
She doesn't force her anger on the crowd. She doesn't gain her ability to control from carefully measured responses from fans that line the streets. She doesn't retreat into the bottle or the needle or any of the other myriad of escapes that everyone else turned to.
"I think I hate her for it."
Jo bone-laughed again. "If you can't hate those old cows and pigs, I don't think you hate her. Thought we didn't lie to each other, Finn." Old words echoed: we have enough of that outside.
"S- I think you're right." He was sure she caught the edge of the almost apology, but she didn't say anything and he was grateful. "I think... that I don't know what to think."
"Then don't say anything, idiot."
Her words smiled. He smiled. He frowned.
I think I'm afraid,
he didn't say.
In this little apartment designated for him in the Capitol, underneath two kids who died before they were given the chance to live, away for just barest sliver of a moment from the searching, prying gaze of a man who called himself president, Finnick felt the world shift.
Note: Hey! I don't think I can apologize enough for how long Fissures is taking. Or how long it's going to take. I don't want to start posting until I have a buffer of chapters, or at least a heavy, detailed outline. There's no one excuse- I just need to find the energy and time to really get into it. But I never planned and never will plan on abandoning Fissures. It's my Big Piece, the heart of my fanfiction.
In the meantime: I decided to start this story. It's a one shot collection- no overarching plot or chronology. Just moments in the Fissures and Fear no Evil universe (which are one and the same. I still recommend reading Fear no Evil as it contains most of the background information/characterization that I'm using for Fissures). And I am taking requests. In fact, I welcome them! I don't reply to reviews but I read every single one, so feel free to request anything you'd like to see from this universe in the reviews, or on my tumblr.
Thanks so much for sticking with me for so long! It truly means a lot.