"We'll be there soon," the young man in the blue uniform tells Johanna.
"You said that already." Johanna tries to snap, but her dry throat makes it come out more of a croak.
She wasn't this afraid when she went into the arena. At least there, she could fight back. But if District Four finds out how she's betrayed them, she'll deserve whatever they do to her.
Johanna looks nervously at the driver, hoping her face doesn't give her away.
Maybe she should just keep it to herself. Why go out of her way to tell everyone how weak she was? But no, if the Four leaders don't find out she betrayed their plans to the enemy, she can't undo any of the damage she did.
It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Talk before they tortured her, when she had some control over what she said. Tell enough truth to convince them, and twist it just enough to minimize the impact of the secrets she was giving out. Then go free, join the rebels, and make herself useful.
But now that she's free, Johanna hates herself. Why couldn't she have died before she talked? She doesn't even have the excuse of breaking under torture. She barely got a taste of pain before she caved and agreed to cut a deal.
Now the only way to do any kind of damage control is to warn District Four of what she's done, let them change what they can to try to stay one step ahead of the Capitol.
As the car she's in speeds toward its destination, she's torn between dreading having to tell Rudder what she did, and wanting it over with. Sitting still just leaves her brain stuck in endless circles, and she's never liked putting things off, but she wishes like hell she had better news to report.
If she was going to cut a deal, she needed to make it worth it before she admitted it, and she's not sure she did.
She was hoping to mobilize District Seven into organized action against the enemy, but she ran up against one wall after another. Finally, she ran into her self-imposed deadline. She has to fess up now, or never.
So she set out for District Four hoping to convince them what she's accomplished is enough to justify what she sacrificed. But on her way, she ended up in District Three, which has been mobilized by Four troops with dizzying efficiency. It gives her some hope that they might win the war, but none at all about how they're going to treat her. She wouldn't even blame them if they wanted to convict her of treason.
Rudder's not going to be impressed by the little progress she's made in Seven. Look at what he's accomplished here. And her Games won't give him much confidence in her potential. What did she do? Look pathetic, squeak out a couple kills—one of them District Four—run away from Scorpios? Her only kill this past year came after the cameras stopped broadcasting. While Rudder's famous for being one of only three victors to take out every single one of the other Careers in his arena. When he emerged, he even held the record for the most kills, until Brutus seized it.
Even Finnick didn't manage that. His Games were full of hiding, sneaking, walking away from-
Johanna freezes. Replays Finnick's Games in her head.
Walking away from threats. Cuting off fights in the middle to escape by jumping into a river. Waiting them out. Living to fight another day.
Because he was fourteen! she tells herself.
Because he was outmatched, another voice counters.
Deep in thought, Johanna peers out the window. She can just make out some trees as they fly by in the darkness. Maybe Finnick is who she needs to be talking to. He always seemed impressed by her Games. He went to the trouble of digging up her phone number because he wanted her in his alliance.
Because he was impressed by Katniss. Johanna's lip curls.
Because he was worried you could kill Katniss. Then you proved you could.
That settles it. She's going to tell Finnick, if she can. If he's still alive.
Rudder's a foot taller than Johanna, and he won't sit down when you talk to him, either. Johanna stands with her hands on her hips, facing him with the same concentration she brought to killing his tribute all those years ago.
"You're in command here?" she opens.
"Military command," Rudder answers, all business too. "Mayor Augustus is in political command, as much as anyone is."
"If I share information with you from Seven and the Capitol, will you be able to use it?"
"Most likely. What've you got?"
District Seven is in rebellion. Lumber production has ground to a halt, and there are riots everywhere. But the district is still under Peacekeeper occupation, and there's no organized militia to resist them. Casualties have been high.
Rudder is nodding, like this is a familiar story. "District Three was in the same state when I arrived with the troops from Four. I'd send you a detachment too, but I'm understaffed here already, and I'm not authorized to operate outside the bounds of Three. You'd have to talk to Pearleye."
Johanna struggles to catch up. She wasn't asking for military support. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she could get it. But if she can-! "Where is he?" she asks, trying not to show her excitement.
"She's in Four. She's our mayor. The civilian leader now that we've seceded."
She? Johanna has to meet this woman who tells a district what to do and they actually listen. But first she has to explain how she made it out of captivity.
"I cut a deal and fed them misinformation." It's true, she's just leaving out the part where she also fed them all the information she had. "Like I knew Mags was dead, so I emphasized that she was the mastermind, and the rest of you were her catspaws. I said she used people without letting them know."
Rudder snorts. "You think that's misinformation."
Johanna stops, wrong-footed. "But you knew there was a revolution."
"Eventually, yes." He doesn't look too impressed.
"Well, I didn't know if they had Finnick! I didn't know who they had, I just knew it was safe to throw Mags to the wolves. I was trying to protect you, ungrateful wretch."
Rudder lets a little amusement show. "No, you did the right thing. That was smart thinking."
Johanna's barely mollified. She may have talked, but she did at least try to mislead her captors.
"So, do they have Finnick? Did he make it out?" Rumor has it he did, but she knows just how far she can trust rumor.
Johanna tries not to hold her breath while she waits for the answer.
"He did. He's in Four now, working for Pearleye." Rudder gives her a surprisingly understanding look. "He'll be glad to see you."
Johanna hopes so, when he hears her news. She doesn't have many friends. Or any, come to think of it.
"You're heading to Four soon?"
"As soon as I can, if that's where I can get what I need."
Rudder nods. "The border's locked down. I'll sign the papers authorizing you to pass through, and I'll put you on the next ship south. Meanwhile, you're high-profile enough I believe I'll let you wait in a secure facility with some of the other key players in Three. It's not safe, but it's the safest place in the district," he tells her.
Johanna narrows her eyes.
"I know you're a warrior," Rudder answers that look. "But you're on an important political errand without backup."
"I suppose." Johanna resents being protected and resents not being protected.
When she's got the paperwork in hand, Rudder sends her with an escort to the secure facility. "Remind Pearleye that Three and Seven share a border, and it'll make my life easier if we have troops on the other side."
"I'll remind her," Johanna says. Her heart thumps. They're going to give her backup. Maybe.
No. They'll do it. I'll make it worth their while.
Now from dreading her arrival in Four, Johanna's chomping at the bit to get there. She needs to meet this Pearleye, talk to Finnick, get military suport, get back home, organize the resistance movement, and then start fighting the actual war.
Which of course is why she's stuck cooling her heels in top security with a bunch of eggheads.
To pass the time, she offers to pitch in with the ongoing excavation, but they're not even using shovels, they're using explosives and large machines, and she's not trained in any of them. So she paces in the common room.
Cashmere shows up during the evening meal. Seeing her so unexpectedly, Johanna's instantly transported back to the arena. Her blood pressure spikes, her palms break out into sweat, and her hands clench around an invisible axe.
Then with an effort of will, she pushes the memories back where they belong. "Hmph. So you made it out."
Cashmere only nods, collects her food, and flees back to her room without a word. Johanna's left at the dinner table with only unfamiliar faces, unsure whether that's better or worse.
They recognize her, of course. "I'm Silica," the man next to her introduces himself. "We watched you protect Wiress and Beetee."
Johanna makes a sound deep in her throat. "She's dead."
"Not your fault," the engineer across the table contradicts. "Nor what happened to Beetee. I'm Shannon, by the way."
Someone else mutters something, and Johanna sits up straight, eyes narrowing. "What did you just say about Finnick?"
"Well, he's the weapons prodigy," whoever it is says more loudly. "He should have been able-"
Johanna's spoon comes out of her bowl of mush and slams onto the table in her clenched fist. "You do not criticize what goes on in the arena before you've gone in and done it yourself! He had orders to protect Katniss and Peeta over anyone else, and so did I. You think I got captured because I wanted to draw the Careers off Katniss? You think Mags is dead because Finnick liked Peeta? You shut the fuck up, all of you."
They do, all of them, and Johanna seethes into an uncomfortable silence.
"Did Beetee make it?" she finally asks. "I wouldn't know, I've been in a prison cell."
"He did," Silica answers. "We've been in communication, and he's made some propaganda appearances."
"You're welcome," she snaps. "Who else made it? I'm totally out of the loop."
Katniss. Knew that. Can't miss the Mockingjay even in Seven. Cashmere. Yes, saw her. Finnick. My one ally. Enobaria, victor of the Third Quarter Quell. Fine. Bitch. I was victor. Peeta, exchanged in Twelve. Guess one of us is important.
"Stupid question," Shannon says, tentatively. "You have been checked for trackers, right?"
Johanna's mouth moves wordlessly, as the whole room falls silent. "I'd remem-" But as soon as she starts to say it, she knows she's the stupid one. How much time did she spend unconscious in the hands of her torturers in the Capitol? It felt like not enough at the time, but they could have done anything to her, and she would never know.
"Can we detect it here?" Silica finally asks into the tension.
"I can detect metal," the woman named Joule answers, "but if there's no metal component...I think she'd have to go to the Hub."
This is how Johanna finds herself lying on a table being scanned. She doesn't feel any more tense than she has been constantly since the Quarter Quell was announced, or afraid; what she feels is stupid. It took her a month since her release to get a grip on the situation in Seven and travel down her to start telling District Four how she betrayed the revolution, and not once did it occur to her that the Capitol had an ulterior motive in letting her go.
Did they do a lobotomy?
"Nothing," Joule announces, and the tension in the room only shifts, it doesn't abate.
Suggestions and arguments fly, while Johanna sits with her head in her hands and tries to think how to make this situation better.
"Hub, then?"
"Is it safe to travel?"
"Better now than later. It's still dark."
"Maybe they won't see this as any different from any other place she's stopped."
"We have until they realize there's nothing aboveground for a mile."
"They can't detect the signal from down here."
"They'll know where it stopped. And we're going to show up as a magnetic anomaly."
"If they can get a 'craft past the gunners."
"We have a little time," Joule says. "Who wants to take her to the Hub? I can notify the military that we have a potential security breach."
"Should we evacuate, all of us? We've barely started fortifying this bunker—we've been relying on secrecy."
That's a good question.
"If she doesn't have a tracker, it's a big risk. We have nowhere to go, and that would be a lot of people to be moving around above ground at the same time. We could all get captured."
"Call in the military first. If there is a tracker, and they're closing in on us, leaving now just exposes us."
"Can we jam the signal as we transport her?"
That stops the conversation in favor of rummaging. "What, we have no tinfoil?"
Eventually they conclude it would be extremely easy to jam the signal, but not in the next five minutes using the minimal equipment they were able to bring into this shelter.
"I'll take her," Shannon decides. "I know the way. Joule, let the military know."
"I should have thought of this," Johanna murmurs as Shannon is sealing the bunker entrance behind them.
"Too late now," Shannon shrugs as she rises. "Follow me."
Johanna hasn't felt this subdued since she got off the medication that had her fighting through a fog every minute of every day. There's nothing to say, nothing to do, nothing she can change. It feels like waiting in the Justice Building after her name was called.
The Hub turns out to be a car ride away, with the sounds of explosions coming from altogether too close.
"We haven't been able to drive them out of Three like they did in Four," Shannon explains as she drives. "There's still fighting on the ground."
"I can stay and help fight them," she offers.
"That's not up to me. Thank goodness."
The Hub turns out to be a complex of buildings where assembly takes place. They pick their way in the dark through broken glass and rubble, Johanna trying to follow Shannon's lead and not flinch visibly at each explosion. There was shooting when she left Seven, and fires, but no bombing.
Johanna undergoes another scan. This time, it lights up, over her right buttock. Johanna grabs her knife from her belt and starts attacking it, digging around and welcoming the pain, just as the technician tosses the device in his hand to the side like it just bit him.
"Why did you bring her here?" he cries.
"We don't have equipment where I'm based," Shannon explains. "We're doing design only for now. And they already know where the Hub is. You have a military guard on this place?"
"Of course," he answers, not looking much appeased.
"I need to talk to whoever's in command, now."
This is important enough to go all the way up to Rudder. Or maybe he just happens to be in this part of the district today.
Johanna faces him with more humiliation than this morning. Is she still forgiven? How much more information can she give away before she's another Peeta, protected because no one can bring themselves to put her down?
Rudder takes this news with grim resolution. "I didn't think of it either. Let's get you on the next ship to Four. Pearleye needs to know about this, and I don't want to broadcast it over the wires. I'll summon a ship, a boat if need be."
That's true, he didn't think of it. Of course, he didn't have a month...
"Shannon, I can't give you orders, but I'm asking you to escort her. She doesn't know the way, the bunker is compromised, and I'll need all the troops I can spare for the evacuation."
"Of course." Shannon hesitates. "And once Johanna's on board?"
"Ideally, you board with her. If you want to come straight back from the bay, I can't offer you protection today. Once you get to Four, we can work something out."
Shannon is wide-eyed, but without a lot of options. "I'll do that, then."
Just another life turned upside down in the wake of Johanna's collateral damage.
Once at sea, Johanna clings to the rail on the pitching ship and stares out at the sea, ignoring everyone to wallow in her misery. Despite all her commitment, all her impatience with anyone less focused than herself on "getting shit done," she's accomplished nothing. First she couldn't even hold out under torture, and then she brought danger into Three. Who knows who's dying or captive now in the bunker she left behind.
Nothing but a liability.
All at once, Johanna retches over the side of the ship.
Someone walks up behind her, and she turns her head away.
"Seasick?" It's one of the sailors, sounding sympathetic and amused at once. "Almost everyone from Three's been through the same thing the last couple months."
"At least I can swim!" she snaps.
"First time on the water?" He holds out his hand. "My name's Buck."
"No! I've been on boats." Then Johanna hesitates. She's never sure whether she'll look stupid if she introduces herself or if she doesn't. No, not after the Quarter Quell. He'd better know who she is.
"First time at sea, then? Try looking at the horizon. Sometimes it helps."
Grudgingly, Johanna swallows and tries.
"So, I was wondering...you were teamed up with Finnick in the arena. Is he for real?"
Hearing the question that's been echoing in Johanna's mind for so many years throws her for a loop. "What do you mean?"
"He comes on television and says he's been spying for the revolution this whole time." Buck sounds like he's open to the idea but needs more convincing. "And the mayor and a whole bunch of politicians make speeches backing him up. But he's always been a little hard to swallow, if you know what I mean."
Johanna stares out at the horizon, where the grey sky meets the grey sea, and tries to sort out what she knows for sure.
There is a rebellion. Four is crazy organized from everything she's heard, and seen. The young man next to her is in uniform just like everyone else on this ship, and the soldiers she saw stationed in Three. There was a plan to get tributes out of the arena. Finnick came and protected as many people as he could.
I guess he's real.
"We were spying in the Capitol for years, passing each other information," she finally tells Buck. "Finnick got a lot more done than I did because he was better at pretending."
Because he was more committed. She may not be drop-dead gorgeous like some people, but she has the confidence to draw eyes if she wants. With the right stylist and the right attitude, she could have made herself useful before she talked under torture and led the Capitol straight to a secret rebel hideout.
But the one thing she's never lacked is animal courage. So when she finds herself at the new headquarters in Four, she follows her escort into Pearleye's office like she's charging into a bear den.
The first thing she does is briefly outline the lumber situation in Four. She's been able to keep the rioters from destroying most of what's lying around, and she can probably arrange for it to be transported out, but organizing the jacks, drivers, and sawmills into resuming production for Four while trying to fight off Peacekeepers is not happening without outside military support.
Pearleye is shaking her head. "We don't need lumber, not that badly. We captured a few naval ships and can make do with what we have, at least for now."
"But Finnick said.." Confused, Johanna lets her voice trail off while she tries to make sense of the dribs and drabs of information she's picked up over the years.
"Finnick said we were short on lumber?" Pearleye's equally confused. "Maybe he wanted a backup plan in case our moles weren't able to get us proper ships."
"He kept asking about the roads and trains from Seven to Four," Johanna remembers. "I joined the transportation crew at the border with Three so I could get him as much information as possible. We didn't have the freedom to go into a lot of detail about how he planned to use the information."
"Aha. Then I know what he was getting at." From her desk drawer, Pearleye pulls a sheet of paper. Craning her head, Johanna can see that it's a map, and Pearleye gestures for her to pull her chair around the desk next to her.
"You see, for a long time, there's been a debate about how to get food without the Capitol delivering it. Food that provides nutrients that fish doesn't. Finnick was always in favor of encouraging all the districts to cooperate, so that we can get food shipped here from the same districts it's always been shipped from, by train.
"There's always been a lot of skepticism that we could get that much organization going. But if you look at the map..."
Johanna nods. "One and Two are enemy territory, and they separate you and Three from the eastern districts. The only way to get a train through friendly territory...is us."
"I suspect that was his interest even then. The first thing he did when he came home a few weeks ago was bring a train of food to prove it could be done. Well, he proved it could be done once, but it doesn't exactly scale up to feeding a whole district."
"But if Seven cooperates..." Johanna supplies.
"Then it might," Pearleye agrees. "We'll still continue trying to grow our own food, and we're exploring the option of transit by sea to the south. But with you as our ally, I'd be willing to give this plan another try."
"So you think it's worth sending troops to Seven to help keep the supply lines open?"
"It's something the council will have to debate on," Pearleye tells her. "I'll let you present your case in a few days." She smiles. "And welcome to Four."
Finnick's feet drag him toward the bomb shelter Johanna's working on like a criminal going to his execution. She has more reason to hate him than Katniss. Get it over with, and just be glad Annie's safe and she's forgiven you for Mags.
But even steeling himself for a Katniss repeat, he can't quite bring himself to step into the crucible. He finds the group she's working in, grabs a shovel, and joins them on the far side of the shelter from Johanna.
Then he's immediately swarmed by everyone demanding to know where he's been, what's going on in the rest of the country, what Pearleye is up to, whether Annie's okay, whether he was telling the truth, how you can be supporting a rebellion while fucking everyone in the Capitol...
It's overwhelming enough to distract him, and in the back of his mind he's just bracing himself to look up and find that Johanna's made tracks to another shelter far away. That'll answer his question, and he can move on without having to see the look on her face.
Which means he's startled to feel a shovel swat the backs of his legs at the same time as a voice demands, "You avoiding me, Four?"
Finnick whirls in disbelief to find Johanna standing behind him. Trying to quell the rush of adrenaline at being snuck up on at the same time as he prepares to defend against a surge of accusations, he sucks in a deep breath, puts the sentence about the newly formed navy he was about to utter to the side, and enters a fourth simultaneous conversation. "No, I was giving you the chance to decide if you were avoiding me."
Johanna waves her shovel imperiously at the other shelter-builders milling around them. "Everyone who wasn't in the arena, step aside. We have a lot to catch up on." Then she ignores everyone who ignores her and shoehorns her way in beside Finnick, raising her voice to override anyone who's still carrying on previous conversations with him. "You look like shit."
"No makeup," Finnick quips automatically. Don't get too excited. She probably just wants to rip you a new one before she stops speaking to you.
She looks him up and down searchingly. "But not as awful as you could look."
"I'm sorry," he says, hating himself for not having more than those useless words to offer her. He's checking her out at the same time, being less obvious about it. She's thinner than he remembers, but it's winter, so she's wearing too many clothes for him to see if she's carrying any more wounds. At least she's on her feet.
"That you're alive?" Johanna starts attacking the trench with her shovel, leveling the steep side.
Realizing they're going to be here for a while, Finnick resumes his work beside her and gestures to everyone to let them talk. "You weren't supposed to be left behind."
"I was supposed to be the nearest tribute to Katniss when the rescue came?" she says knowingly. When he looks surprised, she gives a satisfied nod. "You better believe I was smart enough to figure that out. Eventually. Not when it was happening, no, but I've had plenty of time to relive that night. It was supposed to be your group, at the tree, that was taking the risk of being left behind."
"That plan didn't survive five minutes of contact with, well, reality," Finnick apologizes. He shouldn't have turned his back on Peeta, even with Beetee down.
"So it was supposed to be you?" she challenges.
"I didn't have too many choices about how we distributed the teams, but I figured we, especially Beetee, would have a better chance of disabling an enemy hovercraft than anyone else. Didn't count on Enobaria taking on Beetee over me and Cashmere. Everything went to hell, Johanna, and I'm sorry."
She makes an inscrutable sound deep in her throat. "Well, I'm in Four now, working out the alliance with Seven. I got stuck with the civilians digging bunkers in my downtime. I don't mind the digging, but have you ever been in a shelter with the bombs going off?"
"A few times," Finnick answers, recovering from the whiplash change of subjects. "If you're saying it's easier to be in the front lines, I know what you mean. I've spent the last week stationed with the anti-aircraft artillery units in the desert, and it's way easier."
Johanna looks at him with a hunger bordering on hatred that takes his breath away.
"You can come with me next time," he offers. "Or I can put in a good word for you to be allowed out there."
Her face lights up. "What about tonight? It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission."
"That is my motto," Finnick agrees, "but Pearleye personally summoned me back and didn't tell me why."
"Oh, that's just for the meeting we're having about Seven and Four and what we need from each other. She wants you here for that, and that's not for another two days because she's having to summon everyone out of the far corners of the district—I'm sorry, independent nation."
The news is positively dizzying. "She wants me for international alliances?"
"Yeah, now can we get there before blackout begins?"
Riding high on this revelation, imagining what it was like for Johanna to huddle underground with strangers hoping not to die, Finnick makes an impulsive decision.
"If we leave now and I pull a few strings...Let's do it."
"Forgiveness!" Johanna crows as she tosses her shovel on the ground.
Laughing, Finnick shows her the way.
Being on the move, weaving through the streets, gives him the opportunity to have a more personal conversation. He keeps having to smile at everyone who recognizes him, and try to shut down interruptions politely, but at least he doesn't have to worry that someone's eavesdropping on the whole conversation.
"Johanna, I don't know what I did that you're still speaking to me, but if you want nothing to do with me now that we're not undercover, I promised you before that I wouldn't take it personally."
"Hey. Are we fighting this war or not?"
"Of course, but there're a lot more ways to fight now without being seen in public with me. I'll still back your alliance in meetings, but you don't have to feed the rumor mill any more in order to be included in the action."
Johanna rolls her eyes. "It's a little late for that. How's that been working out for you, telling everyone you weren't really a playboy? They believe you?"
Finnick makes a sheepish face, and she grins at scoring her point. "Occasionally. You believe me, right?"
"Hmph. I didn't know whether to believe you before this. But yeah, I do. Volunteering when Four didn't have to send any tributes at all is hardcore. So I guess I can't ditch you after that. But I do like your delusions that anyone will believe I'm not fucking your pretty little brains out."
Finnick chuckles. "If you can live with it, I certainly can. But you don't hate me?"
Johanna looks at him with an eyeroll to the side and up. "Don't push it, boy wonder."
But she's going to find out eventually, and he doesn't want the blow when she finds out he was keeping it a secret, so he pushes it. "You didn't hear about Peeta being rescued?"
"That you guys negotiated an exchange for him?"
"I wasn't here for that decision," he says quickly.
"You would have rescued Peeta anyway," Johanna says, resigned. "But you were betting on me to make it out of captivity alive, the same way you would have bet on me in the arena, right?"
"My money's always on you, but-" Finnick's about to say You deserve better, but something tells him that's not what she wants to hear. "Actually, where is my money? You survived. I say that makes you a victor."
He's right, that's what she needed to hear. Johanna lifts her chin. "I demand a second crown."
"We should all get crowns! I'll propose it at the meeting."
She laughs, and Finnick's heart soars just to know that he has one friendship that his reputation and his ruthlessness haven't cost him.
"You didn't happen to hear who died because I survived, did you?"
"You mean like Conch?" he retorts. "Doesn't matter." Finnick would never tell her this, but the fact that even Johanna fucking Mason isn't totally immune to survivor's guilt makes him feel a little better about his own.
"If it was someone you cared about," she pushes.
"What, more than Mags? If I'm not holding her against Peeta, why would I hold anyone against you? I almost got Annie killed myself."
"Trying to save her. Risking your own life. Not risking her to save your own life."
"Well, I'm engaged to her. You're not."
"What if it was Cashmere?" she blurts. "You saved her. You must have trusted her at least a little bit."
Finnick freezes. Johanna doesn't know Annie's with Cashmere. And she's right, he cares about Cashmere too. "You saw Cashmere?" he asks carefully.
"Yeah, in Three. Did you not know she was there?"
"No, I did. I introduced her to Rudder. It was better for her than being in Thirteen or Four. Is she dead?"
Johanna shrugs. "If she is, it's my fault." Then she tells him about her tracker.
He can just imagine it. Annie not leaving her room, Johanna never knowing she was there. And he, Finnick, has to keep his poker face in case she's still alive. "Well, if Rudder evacuated the shelter, I trust that he knows what he's doing." Rudder knows she's there. Rudder would prioritize her. He already did, once.
"Finnick?"
And now Finnick has to not run straight to Three. He has to trust Rudder and do his job.
"Sorry, just thinking about the logistics in Three. I'm sure Rudder's got this one. Even if not...look, I wasn't captured, and I didn't keep you from being captured. And we didn't rescue you. There's nothing anyone has the right to hold against you, least of all me."
Johanna looks only partway convinced. Finnick's sure they'll have this conversation again, but for right now he's run out of things to say that might help. Maybe shooting down drones will make her feel better, and it'll sure as hell take his mind off Annie.
The only resistance they meet on the way is boarding the truck out to the front lines. In a blue-uniformed crowd, Johanna's civilian clothes stand out.
A soldier steps in front of her with hand held out. "Are you authorized to be here?"
"I'm authorizing it," Finnick says easily, before Johanna's straightening back and clenching fists turn into words. "She is a victor, you know."
The soldier gives her a closer look. "District Seven? You're with us?"
"That's why I'm here, brainless."
The insult gets Johanna narrowed eyes, but she's waved on.
"Victors get special treatment." Finnick winks as he and Johanna settle into the truck. It's crowded, so he pitches his voice low.
"Is that a rule?" Johanna teases.
"It actually kind of is. Mags made the rules, and now Pearleye's stuck enforcing them."
Johanna's head whips toward him. "Shit." She mouths, so that no one else can hear, "Is Annie okay?"
Finnick just nods. He hopes it's still true, but he's touched by Johanna's obvious relief.
"All right, I suppose that's why you don't look more like shit. How about our Mockingjay? Was it worth it?"
Whey does everyone keep asking this? He only has the one answer, but it doesn't pack the same punch coming from him to Johanna, who went through more than he did.
"For me, yes. For Mags, since I speak for her, yes. I can't speak for you."
Johanna presses her lips together. "Hard to argue with Mags. So how come you're not there keeping her alive?"
Being friends with Johanna Mason is a lot better than being rejected by Katniss, but not much more comfortable. "She doesn't want me around. We're lucky she agreed to be part of the revolution at all. She's not happy about how she got manipulated into it."
"How...she...got...manipulated...into...it," Johanna repeats, one word at a time. "You mean, the part where she's alive and her boyfriend is alive, and she left a trail of blood and ruin in her wake?"
"I mean the part where she's seventeen, she has no home, and she feels responsible for what happened to her district, and for everyone who died or got captured keeping her and her boyfriend alive. I mean it when I say we're lucky she's as committed as she is."
"Remind me again why you can't be the Mockingjay? You seem pretty committed. I bet you'd be more cooperative."
"Are you serious?" Finnick laughs through the bitterness. It hurts to think of how much more cooperative he would be than Katniss. "I am just barely not getting lynched as a collaborator. I come out here shoveling as publicly as possible because I need to convince everyone of whose side I'm on. I spend every day moving from dangerous task to menial task to dangerous again, and nights appearing in propaganda shoots with the ranking officers and politicians, in hopes that it won't take another ten years before my own people trust me again.
"The rest of the districts? Johanna, I've considered having plastic surgery just so everyone stops recognizing me."
Dumbfounded, Johanna pulls up her jaw. "See, that's what I mean about cooperative. You're willing to do whatever it takes, aren't you?"
Finnick shrugs. "There's not much I'm not willing to do. Plastic surgery is nothing compared to what Mags did." The truck comes to a halt. "All right, we're here."
Johanna hopes out as fast as she can. "Bring it on."
"Better?" Finnick asks Johanna. The sun is rising on them, both bleeding superficially, covered in dirt from the explosions, and Johanna absent-mindedly sucking a finger where the nail tore off.
"Yeah," she gasps, leaning against the wall. And she does feel better, steadied at least. "Is it like that all the time here?"
"On the border? Pretty much. We try to keep it from being like this in the inhabited areas, but we're not always successful. You're not getting bombed in Seven?"
"No. Not yet," Johanna adds cynically. "Am I needed for anything now?"
Finnick shakes his head, once. "We've carried all the wounded, secured all the prisoners. I was going to ask if you wanted to find a private spot for a quick chat."
Johanna stares at him through bloodshot eyes. "How are you still going? I could sleep for a hundred years."
"But you don't have insomnia. Right." Finnick snaps his fingers. "We'll talk tomorrow, then."
"No," Johanna says, reluctantly. She's filled with dread, but at the same time, this is what she's been angling for. Better that this happen on her terms. "Find me a spot where I can sleep with some privacy, and we'll have a little powwow before I crash. I have something to tell you, anyway." She stops. "Unless disappearing with you gets me taken less seriously by command." She's so used to hanging out with Finnick in the Capitol that she's forgotten where she is.
Finnick throws his head back and laughs. "If Elspa starts throwing stones, let me know. I'll give her a hard time and enjoy it."
"Seriously?"
"What, you thought it was just a reputation?" Finnick's offended. "Welcome to Four. You're the only one who hasn't slept with me."
"Which is why no one will believe me." Johanna sighs. "Fine. Let's go have our 'quickie'."
"Actually, if anything's going to make you stand out, it's going to be the way I'm still disappearing with you after all these years. No one lasts that long."
"That's because you never met me before." Even tired and stressed, she can do saucy.
Finnick laughs, loud enough to draw some curious looks. "I really haven't, you know."
As long as it looks like he's chasing her, she can live with it.
But when they're settled, before she can get started with her confession, the first thing he says is, "I think you know this, but with my reputation, I want to make sure I say it: I'm not chasing you. I'm not hitting on you. No matter what I say, or do, or if I want to get you alone, I'm not making a pass. If you ever decide you're interested in sex, with men, with me, I trust you won't be shy about letting me know." She snickers. "Until then, we're just getting work done."
"I believe you." Johanna leans back against the wall, trying to surreptitiously position herself so that she's not pressing on the worst of her old Scorpio injuries. "I'm not interested."
"I believe you." Finnick slumps to the ground beside her, his guard down. "What's on your mind?"
Johanna looks at him with some of her resentment melting. How hard must it be for him to find someone he can say that to? If she's had it bad, he's had it worse. Maybe that's why she believes him.
Now if only she can find a way of telling him what she's done without losing all his respect.
She opens slowly. "Pearleye tells me you want to use District Seven to pass food and supplies through?"
"Do you think it's doable?" Finnick looks concerned.
"I'm doing everything in my power to make it happen," she promises. "That's why I'm here, in Four. But when I was in the Capitol, when I was trying to talk my way out, I told them you were after lumber."
Finnick thinks about it. "They'll probably catch on eventually, but it may buy us some time before they realize how important those supply lines are."
"No, I-I mean I told them you wanted lumber from us when that's what I thought you wanted. I told them the truth."
"Well, you had to, didn't you? If everything you said was a lie, they'd have caught on, and they'd never let you go."
"But I could have just not told them anything!" she bursts. Does he not understand what she did?
"Then they wouldn't have let you go." Finnick shrugs. "I did propaganda for ten years for the Capitol. You think that didn't hurt us, help them? But if I hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to spy. You do what you have to, if you want to fight back."
"I could have been braver. I thought I wouldn't talk, but then-" Her voice trails off.
"But then you were alone in the hands of the enemy and you realized you wanted to win? You pick your battles when you're outmatched, Mags always said that. If you can't outfight them, you outsmart them."
This is why she picked Finnick to fess up to. It's still too good to be true. "You're not mad at me?"
Finnick chokes in disbelief. "You're not mad at me? At us? I didn't have your back in the arena, and then we traded for Peeta. I already told you, no one gets to criticize anything you did to get out. I don't care if you had sex with the whole Capitol." He winks flamboyantly. "I don't care if you made them think you liked it. I don't care if you did."
Johanna snorts. Trust Finnick to make her think she might be able to laugh again someday. "I didn't."
"Well, that makes one of us. But I mean it. Whatever you did, whatever it is you're remembering and wishing you hadn't done, you survived."
She folds her arms on her chest. "Like what?"
"Doesn't matter. Normally we tell victors it's all right if they killed someone, got someone killed, left someone to die, said something cruel...but knowing you, I think you need to hear that no one thinks you're weak. If you cried, if you threw up, if you begged, if you lost control of your body, if you feel like they broke you...it doesn't matter."
Johanna looks at him warily. What does he know, or guess, about her captivity? Does he know how much of her infamous act in the Seventy-First Hunger Games was real and how much was an act?
"It doesn't matter any more than anything you did in the arena," Finnick says emphatically.
"Which you're not holding against me," she checks yet again.
Finnick gives her an approving look. "We're proud of you. You're one of us. Better a live ally than a dead martyr."
"Is that what Mags said too?" Johanna mutters, and then she wants to bite her tongue. There she goes again, saying whatever pops into her head. Most of the time she doesn't care, but flaunting Mags' death at Finnick...
Finnick keeps from showing any emotion. "Mags said we needed allies outside Four more than we needed more help in Four. Katniss. Peeta. You."
"I'll try to make it worth it."
"You're worth it. You always were. I'm sorry about how we had to play it in the arena. I've got your back now."
She has no idea what to say to that. Thank you is so pale and inadequate when she's hearing these words and believing them for the first time in her life. I've got yours feels like a lie when she's fresh out of telling her captors about Four's plans for the war.
"Tell me what you need from me," she finally settles on. "I'll do anything it takes."
Finnick smiles. "Be yourself. We'll work out the details together."
