A/N: Just a few things I think I should mention again:
1) I don't own the Hunger Games franchise or any of the characters, but I do sometimes like to take material directly from canon and slightly alter it or flesh it out. I do some of that in this chapter because it would have felt strange at this point to jump around those scenes with no connecting context, and I wanted to delve deeper into them anyway.
2) I tend to favour movie canon over book canon if there's a discrepancy when referring to things that were said and done in the earlier installments, though I do use a lot of both.
3) Angst.
"This has to stop."
I blink up from my training booklet to see Johanna staring hard at me across the gap between our beds. I can't even guess what I've done to incur her wrath this time. "What does?" I ask cautiously.
"Us living in the hospital. Everyone views us as patients. Me in particular." I exhale in relief at the realization that I am not the target of her ire. Johanna has been snapping at everyone she's interacted with today, which has been mostly doctors but also me. Johanna and I flipped positions sometime in the night and woke up to a dead arm and sore ribs, respectively. It was a bad start to a bad day of prodding visits from doctors, and I was honestly glad to leave her behind when I went for breakfast, because by only ten minutes after waking she was already even crankier than I was yesterday after I felt snubbed by that comment about her protecting me for the revolution.
"Yeah, it must be getting claustrophobic in here for you," I sympathize. Even I can't stand being forced to stay in one place, and I've never been held prisoner like she has.
"You have no idea," she replies emphatically, but accurately. "I can't deal with one more fucking doctor coming in here to 'check up on me.' And if we're not on morphling anymore, neither of us has a reason to stay." I nod in agreement despite the fact that I do kind of have a reason to stay, at least as long as she is here, but then she breaks eye contact and mutters, "I can't wait to get the hell out of here." That feels a bit like a slap to the face even though I know it has more to do with the doctors and the confinement than the company.
I go back to staring at the book, rather mindlessly this time. It's ripped from my grasp in a matter of seconds, and before I even have a chance to look up at Johanna she's tossing it over her shoulder and onto her bed. She leans down and braces her hands on my knees, her eyes intense and unblinking. My throat swells and tightens, along with other parts of my body, but I reflexively lean back despite the now familiar urge to move closer because Johanna in attack mode is still marginally more scary than sexy. …Sexy? Well, shit. "Well are you coming with me or not, Mockingjay?" I blink away and swallow, not entirely sure what she means or how to answer, or even if I could speak at the moment. "Huh?" she taunts, canting her head to the side to chase my gaze.
I force my face into the closest thing to an indifferent mask as I can manage, meet her eyes, and can only hope my voice sounds halfway steady when I ask, "You mean like move with you?"
"I mean like come with me to talk to the bloody doctors, brainless. My 24 hours is up and I'm not letting them keep me here. But I could use the backup." I try not to let my disappointment show as I nod and take the hand she offers to pull me off the bed. It's really not necessary because my feet aren't even touching the ground, but I'm not going to complain.
Negotiating the move turns out to be quite the chore, especially since "negotiate" is hardly in Johanna's vocabulary. I'm not much better at it myself. I enlist Haymitch's help over dinner following an ugly argument between Johanna and a few of the doctors that I had to pull her away from before she did anything more to make them think she's unstable. He's known Johanna longer than any of us, and as I recall from my standoff versus Romulus Thread, he's an expert negotiator and manipulator. Just how great a manipulator he is is still a point of contention between us due to his underhanded dealings during the Quarter Quell, but if I can take advantage of it, I might as well. Plus he sort of owes me for lying to me and letting Peeta and Johanna get captured. Well, letting Peeta get captured. I guess that was the sole issue at the time.
The doctors seem to have little problem with discharging me, especially since I'd be living with two members of the hospital staff, but I'm determined not to leave Johanna behind again, even if it means breaking up our cozy living arrangement. Haymitch's appeals that Johanna could still come in to see her head doctor as often as they wanted and that everyone involved would be so much happier if she was as far away as possible don't do much to sway the doctors. Their continued references to her seizure despite them clearing her to train again make me wonder if they might be suspicious of our story, but if they are they never explicitly say so. I think they may have noticed her misery after my rib treatment and put two and two together about the morphling as well. It eventually becomes clear that the crux of the matter is that they are simply not willing to let her live alone if she is discharged. What good fortune.
"She won't be alone. I'm going to room with her," I announce. Haymitch raises an eyebrow and Johanna turns to me in surprise. Gratefulness and relief are evident in her expression for a split second, but then she narrows her eyes and turns to scowl at the doctors.
"I don't need a fucking babysitter," she spits.
"No," I counter, "you need an ally. Just like I do." Her pride still seems to be smarting, so I smirk and add jokingly, "We'll babysit each other, okay?" Perhaps unsurprisingly, this isn't particularly comforting to the doctors, but it gives Haymitch another idea. He suggests we could be situated in a compartment near my family so my mother can keep an eye on us. There's still some dissent, but once Mom is brought into the discussion and professes her utmost confidence in us and her own willingness to keep tabs on the situation, the doctors finally relent. The compartment next to her and Prim is vacant at the moment, so they assign it to us and then leave us to collect what few items we have in our current room, but not before some parting warnings about how we are expected to adhere to our schedules and in general behave, which only induces eye rolls from both of us. We're off to a great start, apparently.
***o***
"Quite the upgrade." Jo smirks over her shoulder and steps into Compartment 2211 so I can get a better look. It's no surprise to me because it's pretty much just a mirror image of the one next door that I used to live in, but it really shouldn't be one to her either given that she's visited Finnick and Annie in theirs.
"At least we don't have doctors checking up on us now," I point out.
"Yeah, only your mother," she says as she drops her cargo and flops down on the bed lining the left wall of the sleeping nook. The compartment as a whole is probably the same size as our hospital room, but the layout makes it seem cramped.
I gesture at the bathroom door to my right and inform her, "The compartment bathrooms are bigger. Nicer, too."
Johanna raises her head and links her hands behind it, her expression somewhere between annoyed and amused. "What's with the optimism, Everdeen? That's not like you."
"Well, why are you complaining?" I shoot back. "You got what you wanted. Or would you rather check yourself back into the hospital?"
"Because I've had a shit day and I want to vent. Is that really such a crime?"
"You've been venting all day already," I mutter irritably. I cross the room to the small dresser nestled against the back wall between the beds and tuck my clothes away in one of the drawers, laying my few other possessions on top of them. I sneak a glance over at Johanna in time to see her watching me, but she just blinks lazily and turns her head to stare at the ceiling again. I sigh as I shut the drawer and open another. "Here," I say, extending a hand toward the clothes she dumped on her bed upon arrival. When she looks over and sees me pointing at her stuff, her eyebrows peak in surprise but she hands over the pile without argument. The only thing she keeps is her military training booklet, which she drops haphazardly on the floor beside her bed while I stash her things in the drawer. She doesn't thank me, but it's not like I expected her to.
I grab my own training manual from where I'd placed it on the dresser and gingerly hoist myself up onto the free bed. The pain in my ribs has abated dramatically in the two days since my treatment, but they're still a bit tender and I've been trying to rest them as much as possible in my free time. Conversely, I've been pushing my body to the limit and well past any reasonable pain threshold during the training sessions, and I'm exhausted both physically and mentally. But my desire to get to the Capitol and kill President Snow far outweighs this fatigue, so I open the reading material and pick up where I left off during Reflection.
I've just settled on my back and barely read a paragraph when a knock on the door breaks my concentration. I drop the open book on my face and release an exasperated groan. "Seriously?" I whine. I drag the book down to my chest and am about to get up when I hear Johanna's feet hitting the floor.
"It's okay, I'll get it." When I hear the door open a few seconds later, it's immediately followed by Johanna's voice purring out, "Hello, gorgeous."
"Johanna," Gale responds curtly. I sit up abruptly as he enters the compartment and my line of sight. He casually says, "I thought I'd come check out your new place."
"They're pretty much all the same," I point out. I'm somewhat annoyed that he's imposing himself on me here in our compartment, but I'm also glad to see him. We didn't exactly part well yesterday and didn't sit together for any meals today, so I hope this is a reconciliatory gesture as opposed to a jealous one. His eyes briefly flick out into the hall and pull me off the bed and out the door instinctively. He shuts the door behind us and we begin walking aimlessly.
"I was down in Special Defense this afternoon," he says once we're in a quieter area. "Saw Beetee's latest project." Terrific. I really don't want to deal with another round of jealous Gale right now.
"So, what, are you pissed I didn't commission some gadget for you too?" I retort.
"No." I look up in surprise. "I was going to say that was really thoughtful of you." My confusion must be obvious, because he continues, "I know you don't hate her."
"But you do," I state.
"I don't trust her," he corrects me. "And I think she's kind of a jerk."
"You think it?" I smile. "I know it."
Gale exhales heavily and scratches his neck. "Yeah…" He stops and leans against the wall. "I guess I just thought the last person I'd ever be competing with for your attention would be Johanna Mason."
"Gale…"
"I was thrown, but I shouldn't have been mean about it. I shouldn't have said anything about Peeta." That stings, even in the form of an apology. It must be evident in my face because he quietly adds, "I'm sorry."
I nod in acknowledgement. "Apology accepted."
"And… I know Johanna doesn't hate you either. I guess I like to think she does." I furrow my brow, but he just studies me quietly for a moment. Finally, he shrugs in response. "Hatred gives people space," he explains. "It creates solid boundaries, and those are safer. People can't stab you in the back if you don't let your guard down. Can't hit you in the head with a coil the second you turn your back."
"She did that-"
"I know why she did it. She'd agreed to do her best to keep you alive so the rebellion wouldn't die with you, even if she had to hurt you in the process. Not that I think she minded." I can feel my jaw and fists tightening at this affirmation of one of my insecurities. Gale sure knows how to jab my sore spots. I have to remind myself that he probably doesn't realize that Johanna's motives for protecting me is one of them. I inhale and exhale deeply and wiggle my fingers loose before replying. Gale notices but doesn't say anything about it.
"Didn't you just say you know she doesn't hate me?" I argue.
"Okay, fine," he relents. "But she's still a manipulative, cold-blooded killer. You must understand on some level. Don't you feel weird about her hanging out with Prim, for instance?" Yes, sort of, but not for the reason Gale seems to be implying. Johanna would never hurt Prim. And I like to think she would never hurt me, not anymore.
"No. I mean, when Prim told me she'd spent a lot of time with her at the hospital, I was mostly just glad she'd done something nice for Jo." His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, so I ramble on, "I felt terrible about what'd happened to her. I still do. And when it seemed Prim saw something good in her, I trusted her judgment."
"Prim sees the good in everyone, Katniss. She could probably see something good in President Snow if she wanted to." Gale holds up a hand as though to ward off the anger he must sense coming his way, and accurately so, because he just insulted the two people I care about most at the moment with one punch. "I know Johanna's not evil like him," he notes. "All I'm saying is that Prim's really optimistic."
"Prim's a great judge of character, actually," I snap. "Maybe she sees the good in Johanna because she's actually a good person, have you ever considered that?"
"She's never given me a reason to think so," he remarks. I scoff at that.
"Other than that she saved my life?" I demand, my voice rising in pitch and volume.
"All that proved is that she's on our side."
"Exactly!" I exclaim. "She's on our side, so what's the problem? I told you, we're allies. We have each other's backs. No one's going to kill anyone." He still doesn't look especially convinced or pleased. "You make it sound like we're mortal enemies. I guess we sort of were in the arena, but that wasn't anything personal. She had to die for Peeta to get out alive. Or so I thought." Gale's mouth puckers a little when I mention Peeta, but he lets it go.
"She won't kill you even if she wants to," he agrees, "at least not until the war is over. I just don't think she deserves you." My face crinkles at that. Deserves me? That's not the most platonic of phrasing, but I must be interpreting it wrong. There's nothing of that sort going on for him to be jealous of. Even if I think I might want there to be.
"What do you mean?" I inquire, battling to keep a straight face and guard against any defensiveness that might seep into my tone.
"You're going out of your way to do her all these favors, and it's only gonna bring you down." I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding until now. "It was really sweet of you to get Beetee to make her those axes, but now you've committed to practically babysitting her just so she can move out of the hospital," he specifies. "Are you even sure she's stable enough to be out?"
"I don't think you understand, Gale," I respond with a shake of my head. "I'm not just doing a bunch of favors for Johanna. She helps me too. She's actually a really good listener when she wants to be. And she's there for Prim when I'm not around, which is often with all the Mockingjay bullshit I have to do."
Gale's eyebrows jump practically to his hairline. "Bullshit?"
"Okay, yeah," I concede, "I know it's important for the war. I do. But it takes a lot out of me, you know that."
"No, I mean I've never heard you say that word before." It takes me a second to recognize the hint of genuine amusement in Gale's expression. "I guess I don't mind a bit of her spunk rubbing off on you. But don't call it 'Mockingjay bullshit' in front of Coin or Plutarch, okay?"
I lean in conspiratorially and grin. "You gonna rat me out?" I whisper. "Now that you have your communicuff back?"
"I think I can keep a secret or two," he replies with a wink. I nudge him playfully and start walking again. He follows.
"We don't have to agree on this," says Gale a short time later. "Just… be careful with her, okay?"
"I am," I state emphatically. "I'm careful with everyone, you know. She's earned my trust, and that's what's important, not whether or not she's earned anyone else's. Not even yours."
He raises his eyebrows at this comment but doesn't contest it. "Lucky for her, then. Johanna makes me nervous."
"I can tell. I mean, you did say you're terrified of her."
He smiles ironically. "That will never change."
***o***
It's a couple of hours later when I finally head back to my new compartment. Too late, in fact. I'm out of my assigned dwelling past the end of my allotted leisure time, and will barely have time to shower before lights out. Adhering to my schedule, check. I took Gale up on his offer of a makeup study session for the one we were supposed to have yesterday, but in the last half hour we just ended up goofing around with Posy and the boys and losing track of time. I think I might have even forgotten that we're in the middle of a war for a few minutes, despite the original reason for the visit. When I slide the door shut behind me, I'm treated to a soft wolf whistle from behind Johanna's training booklet. She lowers it a few inches so I can see her saucy eyes and wiggling eyebrows, but I quickly duck my head as I blush on my way to the dresser.
"No, nothing like that," I mutter. "Gale's just a friend."
"And here I thought he was your cousin?"
I look up and am treated to an exaggerated wink. "Funny, Mason." I dig my sleeping clothes out of my drawer and am starting to head to the bathroom when she speaks again.
"He doesn't think he's just your friend, though, does he?" she asks, her tone more serious this time. I turn back to her and study her expression, faintly hoping to find a hint of jealousy, but unfortunately her face is unreadable.
I deflate with a sigh under her gaze and shrug half-heartedly. "It's complicated," I mumble.
She raises her eyebrows. "I'll say." I badly need to change the subject. Although I know that talking about boys is pretty standard fare for girls other than me and Madge, I'm really not comfortable discussing my romantic entanglements with Johanna now that I've realized she kind of is one.
I clear my throat. "Sorry I left you alone, by the way," I say. "I was going to come right back, but he offered to help me study."
"I wasn't alone," she replies. "Prim just left at ten." I'm relieved to find myself happy to hear this. I guess I'm more reasonable when I'm not sleep-deprived. Or when I spent the whole previous night in physical contact with Johanna and finally feeling irreplaceable in that role, at least for the time being. Even if the first thing she did this morning was bitch me out for cutting off her circulation.
"Did you win the cards back?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "We didn't play, we were just talking."
"Oh." I nod after holding her gaze for a few seconds, then resume my journey to the shower. "Good."
"Good?" she asks teasingly through a half-smirk.
"Yeah," I repeat with a smile, bracing my forearm high on the glass partition and leaning on it. "Good."
Johanna has just finished changing into a nightshirt when I emerge from the bathroom, but she's foregone the complementary pants in favor of a pair of those tiny undershorts I also wear. The fact that I'm surprised she is wearing so much when she's just in a t-shirt and her underwear says a lot. Yesterday's muddy smudges were already gone from her skin by the time I returned from training, so I'm not surprised she didn't bother to take a shower before changing. Not that there's time for one now anyway. She goes to put away her clothes but opens the wrong drawer, and I catch her peeking for half a second before she shuts it quickly. "Sorry."
I think how there's nothing in Johanna's drawer but her government-issued clothes. That she doesn't have one thing in the world to call her own. Not even Prim's deck of cards, at the moment. "It's okay," I assure her as she shuts her own drawer. "You can look at my stuff if you want."
She quirks an eyebrow. "You didn't feel that way when I was helping you get dressed yesterday." I shut my eyes and groan as Johanna laughs. I'm not going to dignify that with a verbal response. Besides, I'm too busy trying not to blush. Jo unlatches my locket, studying the pictures of Gale, Prim, and my mother. She opens the silver parachute and pulls out the spile and slips it onto her pinkie. "Makes me thirsty just looking at it." Then she finds the pearl Peeta gave me. "Is this–?"
"Yeah," I say. "Made it through somehow." I don't want to talk about Peeta. One of the best things about training is, it keeps me from thinking of him. My recent distraction in the form of the scrappy victor rooting through my things has also helped in that regard.
"Haymitch says he's getting better," she mentions in a way that I think was supposed to be nonchalant. But her eyes flit away when I meet them with mine and her fingers suddenly feel the need to roll the pearl firmly between them, so she's not passing that off as a casual remark.
"Maybe," I agree guardedly. "But he's changed." Somehow I've ended up talking about both boys with Johanna tonight. So much for not discussing my romantic entanglements.
"So have you," she points out. "So have I. And Finnick and Haymitch and Beetee. Don't get me started on Annie Cresta. The arena fucked us all up pretty good, don't you think? Or do you still feel like the girl who volunteered for your sister?"
"No," I answer. Not even close.
"That's the one thing I think my head doctor might be right about," she admits. "There's no going back. So we might as well get on with things." Her eyes linger on mine for a moment before she almost imperceptibly wets and bites a corner of her lower lip and turns back to the dresser to put my keepsakes away. It's kind of adorable how neatly she does this, like she's afraid of disturbing my life or something. It's far too late for that. She braces her hands on the lip of the dresser after she shuts my drawer, then takes in an audible breath and turns her head my way. She smirks off my quizzical expression and crosses the floor to her bed. "Sleep tight, Mockingjay," she tosses over her shoulder.
I'm glad she isn't facing me because there's no way I could have disguised the disappointment on my face. Sharing a bed was certainly not my greatest motivating factor in offering to room with Johanna, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping it might happen again. I want to protest, but I don't have her confidence and can't find it in me to command someone to come sleep in my bed, and I don't really have a good reason to simply ask. Other than the fact that, before last night, I don't think I've slept so soundly without the influence of sedatives since I was reaped. But that's hardly something I can just tell her. So instead I watch helplessly as she crawls under her covers just as the lights go out, and begrudgingly follow suit. It's not a minute later that her voice rings out through the darkness.
"You're not afraid I'll kill you tonight?" This is kind of a ridiculous question seeing as we've already been living together for awhile, though I guess we are less supervised now. I squirm a little at the thought, but not for the reason most people would assume. The question is also ridiculous because we're both physically and emotionally wrecked and in no shape to be fighting. But if we were, I wouldn't let her get the upper hand. She already has the upper hand on me in far too many ways.
"Like I couldn't take you." This is met with a few seconds of silence followed by a chuckle and the rustle of Johanna shifting under her bedding.
"Wow, Everdeen," she drawls, "I never expected you to be so forward." I puzzle over this for a few seconds before I realize what I just said and my cheeks light on fire. I'm glad Johanna can't see me blushing in the darkness. "Holy shit, Twelve, I can feel the heat from your face from here." But I guess she can sense it anyway. I try to come up with a witty response, but nothing comes to mind.
"Pervert," is all I manage to sputter out.
The nightmares return full force tonight, perhaps to make up for my last sleep being so peaceful. The truly cruel thing about dreams is that sometimes you know you're dreaming, but you still can't make yourself wake up or even feel less panic or behave rationally according to what you know in your waking state. Like how when I find myself on my knees in front of a whimpering Johanna, rocking herself on the muddy training field as thunder rumbles above us, I still grab her limbs and pin her down despite my brain screaming at me not to do it. I again see her face lose its color, her eyes widen in terror, and her mouth open, but what I hear is by far the worst part.
"Katniss!" screams the voice coming from Johanna's lungs, immediately sapping all my strength and reason. "Katniss, help!" screams my little sister.
"Prim!" I shake the flailing body beneath me, I guess in some hopeless attempt to dislodge the misplaced voice from it. "Prim!" My panic increases as her voice only grows louder. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I know this isn't real.
"No! I won't tell you a thing!" If it had been heartbreaking to hear those words from Johanna before, hearing them in Prim's voice feels like it could literally kill me. At least in the sense of the dream, but that would actually be good because then I'd wake up. Knowing I'm dreaming doesn't make this any more bearable, much like knowing I was hearing jabberjays instead of my loved ones in the Quell didn't help. Jabberjay. This Johanna's just a jabberjay. She's another one of Snow's mutts created to terrorize me. "I won't!" How clever. His favorite mutts were always the ones with completely fucked-up psychological components.
I need to kill this thing. Killing the jabberjays in the arena shut them up, and there's only one mutt here, so that should bring me precious silence. A quick survey of my surroundings reveals no gun and no bow, so I use my most readily available weapon. I wriggle up Johanna's body so I'm kneeling on her chest and begin driving my fist into her face repeatedly, but each blow only increases the agony and volume of Prim's screams. I can't handle this. I can't listen to this for a second longer. I wrap my hands around Johanna's neck and squeeze with all of my strength.
"Shut up shut up shut up!" I holler. The girl's eyes bulge as she fights to suck in any air. Her struggling intensifies, but I bear down harder, nostrils flaring and teeth grinding together. Johanna's bloody face starts to flush and contort in horrible ways, but at least I can't hear Prim anymore. She suddenly bucks her hips desperately, and as I fly up my grip momentarily loosens and she frantically inhales.
"Kat-" Johanna chokes out just as I lock my hands around her throat again. Wait, Johanna chokes out? My hands go lax again in shock. "Katniss!" Johanna wheezes. "What are you doing?"
"I-" She shoves me backward with such superhuman force I fly off of her completely and land flat on my back in the mud, the blow rendering me temporarily unable to breathe either. I roll onto my side and struggle to regain control of my diaphragm, eventually managing to cough. I look up and see Johanna looming over me, swiping at her bloody chin. She studies her soiled hand for a few seconds before turning her suddenly livid eyes back to me. I ready myself for the worst possible things Johanna could say to me, but unfortunately I don't get so lucky.
"I hate you!" Prim screams from Johanna's body. My jaw slackens as I feel the blood draining from my head. This isn't happening. This isn't real. My name is Katniss Ever- "I hate you!"
"Prim, no, I didn't-" There is really no way I can explain, no way to justify what I just did, but I don't even get the chance to try because I am immediately accosted by a flock of actual jabberjays swooping down to take up the chorus. There must be dozens of them echoing Prim's words, deafening even through the hands I've clamped over my ears. I desperately look up to Johanna for help, but her lips form the same words and I have to screw my eyes shut. The calls from the birds begin to morph, some still declaring their hatred for me while others begin crying for my help like Prim did before. But I can't help my sister, not now, not ever. Every time I try to help someone, I hurt other people. I just proved that to myself yet again, in a very strange way. I still can't help but cry out for her. "Prim!" My voice is so shaky and weak even I can barely hear it. I pull in a ragged breath and try again louder. "Prim!" Johanna's suddenly grabbing my forearms and shaking me, letting out a horrible shriek in Prim's voice just inches from my face. I struggle fruitlessly against her grasp and scream as loud as I can just to drown out the unbearable noise.
"Katniss!" That's her own voice again. I try to swat at her face, but her grip on me is too strong. "Katniss, wake up!" The command coming from her lips finally allows me to do what I've been wanting to all along. I bolt upright in my bed, sucking in a loud, labored breath. All I see in the dim light is Johanna and her worried face, but my eyes dart around to scope out any signs of danger as I force wheezing breaths in and out of my lungs. "Hey, hey!" she barks, snapping her fingers in front of my face to grab my attention. I force myself to focus my eyes on her, and this helps a bit. "Katniss, you're okay," she says evenly. "Prim's okay. It was just a nightmare." Yes, that's right, I knew that at some point before the panic completely overtook me. I let my torso fall back heavily onto the bed and wipe some of the numerous beads of sweat from my face with a shaky hand. "It wasn't real," Jo continues, now leaning over me. "You're in Thirteen. You're with me."
My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm seventeen years old. I'm a refugee in District 13. I live with Johanna Mason. I just strangled Johanna Mason. I just strangled my own sister. I'm a monster. I'm truly a monster. Peeta was right.
"Was it the birds?" Johanna's voice breaks into my thoughts. I nod as a tear rolls down toward my ear. She swipes it away with a hand that she then lays on my shoulder. "Prim's safe," she assures me again. "Do you want to go see her?"
I shake my head. "It's okay," I force out hoarsely. "I know I was dreaming." Johanna nods silently just as I turn my head to look at her. She watches me for a few moments before I start to feel a gentle increase in pressure on my shoulder as she shifts her weight to straighten up. I clamp my hand around her wrist immediately, panic rising in my chest. I know my eyes and my touch must betray my desperation, but I don't care. Johanna's eyes change too. They seem to melt along with the rest of her face.
"Stay," I say, though I'm not sure if it comes out more as a command or a plea. "Please." I half expect Johanna to play coy and make me beg, given her initial reluctance to lie down with me yesterday and my subsequent testing of her by making her ask me to come back to her bed multiple times, but I guess she is a better person than I am. Imagine that. Actually, I believe it easily, even if the rest of Panem would never would. Especially after that dream. She pulls back my blankets and nudges me in a silent order to move over before slipping in beside me. I curl up on my left side and hope she understands what I need without me having to ask for it. She does.
The tears start in earnest the second her arms wrap around me and her warm body presses against my back. I find her hands and grip them like my very life depends on it, perhaps even tighter than I did when I was slipping off the Cornucopia island. I initially try to fight the noises bursting from my chest, because I still have some vestige of pride remaining, but I surrender when I feel her lips land softly on the juncture of my shoulder and neck. This is the first time I've cried since shortly after Peeta came back, save for leaking a few tears of sorrow after I saw him following the wedding and a few of relief when Johanna came back to reality yesterday, so there's a lot to release. I find it surprisingly comforting that Johanna doesn't shush me, choosing instead to communicate only through tiny movements of her thumbs against mine. It's like she understands exactly what I need. What I need is to fall apart and have that be okay, instead of feeling pressured to quiet down or get my shit together and guilty if I can't. I'm the Mockingjay. Though I've been falling apart ever since I got here, there's never really been a safe place for me to do so. Until now.
"Come here," she mumbles, scooting herself backward and rolling me so we're facing each other before enveloping me in her arms and tucking my head under her chin. The sudden rush of what feels simultaneously like vulnerability and security breaks down any remaining resistance I have and sets off a fresh round of sobs and muted wails. It's not just the nightmare causing them anymore. It's my grief over failing and losing Peeta. It's my knowledge of what was done to him and Johanna because of me. It's my memories of the flashback and of being strangled, of witnessing the effects of their torture firsthand. It's my confusion and anxiety over my newly discovered feelings for Johanna and whether or not they might be reciprocated in any way. It's the relief of being in her arms and feeling like she never wants to let go either. I'm clutching her shirt so tightly my knuckles must be blanching and I'm soaking it with tears, but I don't really care. Any guise of dignity I'd been performing for her is long gone by now anyway.
My eyes shut reflexively at the feeling of Jo's fingers running along my scalp and through my first few inches of hair. After many repetitions of this, I'm finally able to draw in a breath that is deeper, though somewhat unsteady, and force out a heavy, shuddering exhale punctuated only by the odd sob. She doesn't stop even once my crying finally slows and quiets to whimpers and strangled breaths through my painfully constricted throat, though the tears are still flowing freely and my fists have only wound themselves tighter into her shirt. At some point, her chest expands fuller against my face and air passes audibly through her lips, so despite my own continued sounds I listen for what she might have to say.
"Deep in the meadow," she croons almost in a whisper, "under the willow…" I've suddenly gone mute, mostly out of shock but also because her singing voice is divine. "A bed of grass, a soft green pillow." She moves her hand to my cheek and tucks the strands sticking to it behind my ear as she continues, "Lay down your head, and close your eyes… and when they open, the sun will rise." She gently pulls back from me after a few seconds of silence so her eyes can commune with mine. The glistening trails across her own face come as a surprise to me, but her expression is not sad so much as pensive. She swallows and runs her fingertips behind my ear again before actually speaking.
"That's all I know," she mumbles apologetically. "That's all you sang in your Games." I can't stop staring, and neither can she. But then dread suddenly overtakes her face and she begins searching mine anxiously. I squint curiously and she shakes her head and begins rambling, her eyes wide. "I shouldn't have. Shit, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to bring up Rue or anything, I just-"
"Shh," I rasp out softly, pressing a finger to her lips. "Don't apologize." I probably leave my hand there longer than is strictly necessary before returning it to the now damp and very wrinkled part of her shirt that it had been grabbing before. "That was beautiful." I'm relieved to see her face relax somewhat, though her eyes haven't quite lost their tortured haze. I squeeze her side with my other hand in an attempt to pull her back from wherever her consciousness is holed up, and her focus seems to return. Her mouth twitches and she moves to place a lingering kiss on my forehead.
I consciously bury my face in Johanna's chest again when she starts to pull back, because I know that if I don't then nothing will stop me from cupping her jaw and leaning up to press a fervent kiss to her lips. It's the only way I could truly convey how I feel, how much her comfort means to me, how much she means to me. And I can't deny I want another chance to kiss her, maybe even take this one a bit further. I can't deny I want to taste her, want to run my tongue along hers and over her lips, want our breaths to mingle until we are both breathless. But this is different than on the training field. Not only are we both fully aware of our surroundings, but I have no excuse to kiss her this time other than that I want to, and I'm not comfortable with her knowing that I do. If she wanted to kiss me on the lips, she probably would have done it already around the time she woke me up. There's sort of precedent for it given that I'd kissed her when calming her down, albeit specifically to pull her back to reality. But then again, maybe she wasn't entirely aware of it or doesn't remember.
"Katniss?" I only become aware of Johanna's hands tracing circles over my back when I hear her voice. I snuffle and wipe my eyes with my left hand before draping the arm over her side again.
"Yeah?"
"How does the rest of it go?" Here it's safe, here it's warm. Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true. Here is the place where I love you.
"Maybe I'll teach you some day."
Special thanks to BDewitt (also known on the internets as District 7 Profanity) for beta reading the Everthorne scene for me.
I probably won't get another chapter up before MJ1 comes out because I'll be working a lot and I have to rewatch the first two movies at least once before next Thursday night. (in Caesar voice) So exciting!
But yeah, I hope this holds you all over until then. I will still be writing in the meantime and I hope it won't be too long before I can post another update.
UPDATE: I've edited this to better reflect the compartment layout from Mockingjay Part 1, crossing it with book canon.