I wake up before Katniss, and I slowly untangled our bodies. I look out the small window - the sun hasn't even risen. Probably still around three or four in the morning, since the miltary people weren't up yet either. I quietly dress myself and leave the underground bunker. I leave all my things back in the room so if Katniss awoke, she wouldn't think I bailed on her. A guard gives me a nod as I walk out onto the top of Thirteen. The guards have come to know and like Katniss and I. I'm sure they're also very entertained by our loud screams of pleasure at night, but they don't make any mention of it. Which is best for their health.
The summer heat wasn't quite there yet, and the morning was still slightly chilly. My boots squished the dewy grass beneath my feet as I ventured into the woods that surround the District. The trees are somewhat familiar - there are some evergreens that smell remarkably like home. I close my eyes and picture Katniss, just before leaving for the Capitol, making me the little token to remind me of home. I smile at the memory of her bringing me the small gift in the hospital. Her promise to kill Snow, which she doesn't ultimately keep. I wonder, if she loved me a little then?
More importantly, I wonder if she loves me a little now. I don't know if her words during sex were genuine or just a ploy but we are headed for completely new territory with last night's tender affair. I mean, I told her I loved her. And of course I meant it, but why did she want to hear it? I grab a strong branch of a tree and hoist myself up. Using my genetically enhanced tree-climbing skills, I managed to slither my way up to the top of the tree.
I see the sun peeking very slowly from the horizon. From my perch I can see some of the scientists from the nearby new homes they had built waking and turning the lights on in their homes. Thirteen wasn't a far cry from Seven, aesthetically. We have a lot more trees, but this mountain range was nice, too. However, I'm not cut from the type of cloth that could really gel into this militaristic environment. Even without Coin, their waste-not-want-not mentality was still prevalent in everything they do.
I lean on the trunk of the tree, stretching my legs along the sturdy limb. You can see the long wired fence that surrounded the original Thirteen, before the Rebellion. I lay up there for a while, musing on last night's interesting turn of events. The sun begins to rise more steadily, and more people are out and about in Thirteen. I'm sure Katniss is awake by now. I don't know what we're going to say to each other when we finally speak. Was it all just a possessive maneuver because of Annabelle? If so, then Katniss was taking this dominatrix set-up way too far because I truly am in love with her. More so than I want to admit. More than I've ever been with anyone else before. It swells my heart, but also provokes a bit of fear within me.
"How's the view?" her voice calls up to me, and I nearly fall out of the tree I'm so startled. Goddamn she's quiet. She probably would've killed me in our Games. I never would've heard her, or her bow coming. But I would've taken Peeta down right quick. Not as a result of my current dilemma, but because their star-crossed lovers bit made me want to throw up.
"Better now, gorgeous," I call down to her. I can hear her grunting as she tries to pull herself up into the tree. Her tree-climbing skills are not as fine-tuned as mine, but with not all that much effort she ends up on the branch just below mine. She looks out into the sky, shielding her eyes from the now-glaring sun.
"Are you hiding from me?"
I stare down at her, dressed in her casual Twelve attire. She looks beautiful. It should be against the law to wake up and not look like a disheveled mess. But Katniss looks effortlessly beautiful, especially with her deep brown hair shining in the summer sun. "Is that what I'm doing? Because I'm not doing such a hot job then. 'Cause here you are."
The way she sits on the branch with her slim limbs tense, she looks like a bird about to take flight. I guess Mockingjay is a more appropriate name for her than I thought. She chews her bottom lip, unable to meet my gaze. A wave of dread comes over me like one of Snow's torture floods. Her grey eyes flicker to the bruise on my neck from her little love bite, and I see the guilt wash over her face. "Johanna, I -"
My eyes grow wide. "Whoa. Hold up." Her eyes dart to mine, alarmed. I know that tone. The sense of finality is like a countdown clock. My stomach churns and twists, because I know what's coming.
"Just let me talk."
"No." I let out a hard laugh, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I cannot fucking believe you. Actually, you know what? I can. This is pure Katniss, right here." She looks incredibly hurt but I cannot be stopped. I won't be stopped. "This is who you are, isn't it? You just - you make people fall in love with you. You string them along behind you like a fucking child's toy and then you bail. You just up and bail. Like you did to Gale. Like you did to Peeta. But Peeta doesn't have enough sense to stay away. I guess I don't, either."
"I didn't expect this to happen. I can't just leave him," she mumbles, looking up at me with tear-stained eyes. "What we're doing isn't fair to him."
"To be honest Katniss, I don't give a fuck what's fair to Peeta. It's not my job to look after his best interests."
"But it is my job." I look at her incredulously, shaking my head. "I'm sorry."
"Oh please do not waste an apology on me, Katniss. Save it for someone who actually gives a damn." I grab hold of another branch and swing myself down a level. Swiftly I scale down the tree, until my boots hit the now dry soil. I look up at her. My flighty mockingjay, stuck up in her tree. Only she's not mine. She never was. And she never will be. I narrow my eyes. "This was all just some sick fucking joke. You used me."
"We were both using each other. Don't act like you were innocent in all this."
"I never said I was innocent, but at least I was honest. I mean, you never really loved me, did you?" She opens her mouth to respond, but ultimately closes her mouth. "You let me fall for you, but you had no intention of coming with me. Was it really that important to have that power over me?"
"Please don't do this, Jo. It's hard for me, too." I run my fingers through my hair and grunt in frustration. "I want us to be friends."
I scoff. "Fat fucking chance. I don't ever want to see you again."
My heart is beating so fast and clenching so hard I feel like I'm dying. I wipe away any traitor tears that have dripped onto my cheeks. I can hear her calling my name but my mind is so cluttered and angry I don't process what she's saying. I storm back into the bunker, tossing my things in my bag haphazardly. I grab the wrapped pine she gave me and I toss it against the wall as hard as I can. The brittle pine shatters and cascades in pieces onto her bed.
I'm riddled with rage. My whole body is trembling when I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder. I shove past the guards, bounding my way up the stairs and back outside. I don't see Katniss when I scan the area, so I wait at the train platform anxiously. Within a few minutes a train arrives, and I don't even know where it's going but I board anyway. I slap a few bills into the conductor's hand and make my way to one of the rooms. As I slam the door closed and lock it behind me, I finally fall apart.
How stupid. How fucking stupid of me to think that this would work out. I sob into my hands, sniffing up the mucus dripping from my nose. I let myself fall for her. I let myself feel and be open for the first time in a long time, and again I had my heart broken. There's only so much ache one heart can hold.
The set of events afterwards are kind of a blur. It's as if I'm dreaming them, instead of living them directly. A translucent shroud has descended on my entire existence. I arrive in Seven, pack my things, and immediately leave. Annabelle cries a little but I don't even register her words. I know I tell her to stay, that the house is hers, and that I'm sorry. All the words are true except the last part. I feel bad leaving the kids but I'm so turned off to the world that the sympathy dies before it even reaches my throat. Seven doesn't feel like home anymore.
I'm not sure if it's more pathetic or unfortunate, but there's no one I can even talk to. Not that I'm particularly good at the share-care circle, but there's no shoulder to cry on. Lilac won't understand and I'm afraid I'll start sleeping with her if I get close to her again. Haymitch is too close to Peeta. Finnick is dead. The fact that the only person I have left is the one person in the world I'd rather never see again makes me throw up. A lot. I get sick just about every day in the two weeks in takes me to form a plan.
I arrive in Thirteen with a land deed and a plan. I have permission to build my own home there, just a couple hundred yards outside the city proper. With the resources they give me I begin building my home. It only takes me a few days to draft the design, and another few to secure the people to help. Not that I need much help, but I don't exactly know major carpentry.
But I can chop fucking trees. And I do. I think I fell about twenty trees a day for three days straight. Whack after whack of the axe, slamming into the hard pines and evergreens that root around the area. The other workers try and engage me in conversation, but I don't speak. I haven't spoken since leaving Seven. The people here are nice enough, and the guards look at me sympathetically. I think they know. But I don't want their pity and it makes me angry at them, so I don't say anything. I'm not even sure what my voice sounds like anymore.
The hard labor forces me to think about something other than Katniss when the sun is high. But when the blanket of night falls across Thirteen, I stare up at my ceiling and let the tears fall down to my ears. The forceful sanding of wood and the hard cutting of lumber is enough to keep me occupied during the day, but at night I think only of her. How her hair smelled like lavender, how her eyes looked in the morning sun, how she tasted like smoky fire, how amazing my name sounded when it rolled off her tongue as she came.
Over the course of a few months my house is just about done. It's a moderately sized, three-bedroom, two-story cabin. I designed it to look like a luxury hunting lodge, and with its animal furs and grand ceilings, it does. It's large enough that I have a lot of space in which to drink myself stupid, but small enough where I'm not completely floored by loneliness.
One morning I receive a small package from the Capitol. As I open the brightly decorated package, I uncover a picture frame with Finnick, Annie and I from one of our Mentoring days. Inside I find a note:
Johanna,
I hope you enjoy this small housewarming gift. I can't say I was surprised to hear you were moving to Thirteen. Of all the Districts, I figured their cut and dry lifestyle would be a tad bland for a woman of your tastes, but they say home is where the heart is. And I get the feeling you left yours here.
Alas, the heart wants what the heart wants. Even if it is at times painful. Please take care of yourself.
With love,
Plutarch Heavensbee
How he knows about Katniss and I is a little unsettling. Of course, there's a chance that word got back to him from some defector in Thirteen. Or perhaps that he has the whole country bugged. Either way, he's using the power benevolently and I can't be bothered with the logistics. I place the photo on the mantle of my fireplace, and from the corner of my eye I see it shimmer. I step forward, tilting my head, and it shimmers again. I step to the left and suddenly it becomes a picture of my family. I clasp my hand over my mouth, tears falling freely from my eyes. As I touch the faces of my parents, it shifts into a picture of Katniss and I from Finnick's wedding. I don't remember being that close to her, but we both look happy. The way I'm looking at her; it's clear I loved her, even then. I suddenly hate that stupid pale bastard for sending me this. But as the image glitters and moves back to being Finnick, I leave it there. It might be masochistic but it's the only thing that makes this empty wooden box feel like a home instead of a luxurious coffin.
Over the next few months I get into a rhythm. In the morning I eat breakfast outside in a treehouse I built for myself. Then I go into my office and begin drafting some of the buildings Plutarch is having me design. He's sent me more and more work since giving me my gift, presumably to keep me occupied. And for that, I an eternally grateful. Maybe I do have at least one person to talk to, if I were into that sort of thing. In any event, it helps me from imploding under the crippling loneliness and sadness to which I've become accustomed. I also begin carving again, and sending my pieces off to the Capitol to be auctioned off. The proceeds go to Districts who are in need of some cash flow. It keeps me busy during the long stretches of hours in between waking and sleeping.
At night I go to the Block and work out there with some of the guards. Afterward I go home to my empty home and cry until I pass out. After another few months, I don't even cry anymore. Not out of any semblance of emotional stability, but more out of pure exhaustion. I realize with a sigh that it's been nearly a year. Time has been a cross between an unbearable crawl and a flash. In the spare time I allow myself, I usually drink myself into a coma. The lady at the cafeteria has started coming to my house since I stopped going there to eat. She brings me stew and biscuits every day, but I usually don't eat them. When I look at myself in the reflection of the lake behind my home, I'm barely recognizable. My hair has grown back a bit, and it hangs just to my shoulders. But my face and body look like pure muscle. I don't even know if I have fat anymore. But eating seems like a chore, and if I could just simply waste away into nothing, I will. Seems like a painless way to go.
One deceptively gorgeous Spring morning, I get the invitation. It reeks of Effie Trinket's touch - fancy calligraphy, gold-embroidered paper, and a sense of pomp and circumstance that only Capitol people possess. Katniss and Peeta's Wedding. The words make my heart hammer in my chest with painfully hard thuds. Almost immediately after I receive the invitation (or at least, when I'm about three liquor bottles into a stupor) my phone rings.
"What?" I answer gruffly, chugging down the last sip of whatever horrible liquid this is. I smash the bottle against the wall, and it lands in shards atop the previous two bottles.
"I assume you've gotten your invitation."
Her voice surprises me and I don't answer for a few moments. "Did you get one?"
"Oh goodness no. But it's all Effie Trinket will talk about. She's insufferable." Lilac's annoyed tone makes me smile, at least slightly. But it's the first smile I've had in over a year. "But she said she invited all the Victors."
"Yup, got it right here. S'fantastic, really. I'm so - hiccup - stinking happy for them."
Lilac sighs on the other end of the line. "Johanna, I know about what happened with Katniss." I shake my head. No fucking secrets. "I also know you haven't left your home in almost a year. Your ..friend in Seven let me know you had moved."
"How d'you know all this?"
Lilac laughs her wind chime laugh. "Sweetheart, I was an escort. We hold a lot of weight. Even more now because we are considered victims of the Games." I snort. "I know, I don't like that title any more than you do. In any case, I wanted to know if you were planning on attending."
"I was plannin' on just hangin' m'self, actually. Seems like a much more preferable alternative."
"I didn't think you would. I tried to explain to Effie that you were a very busy woman now, with your new job as an architect."
I let out a laugh. "Hardly. I make little pictures."
"Don't sell yourself short, it's unattractive." Her stern tone makes me smile a genuine smile. "I'm very proud of you." Silence buzzes through the phone. "I know how badly you must be hurting, love. And I know that this probably makes it worse..."
"It can't be worse, Lils. I feel nothing. I don't feel happy, or sad, or even angry. I wish I could at least still be angry. I can do angry."
Her voice turns sad. "I wish I could help you."
"I wish you could, too."
The wedding is in the summer. From what I can recall of Katniss' ramblings, the ceremony is usually small. Breaking of bread, crossing of thresholds, a small party, and then that's it. Twelve's poor history means a big day of festivities is out of the question. Of course, they could have changed that by now and maybe they're holding a large day of celebrations. A week. A month. Fuck, they could celebrate all goddamn year. I mean, it's not every day that the star-crossed, twice-Reaped, soul mates from Twelve finally get hitched. It's so exciting I could just torch the whole damn District.
There are several schools of thought for me: One, I could go interrupt the ceremony and try to get Katniss to come home with me. That sweeping, romantic gesture is just beyond my personalty, unfortunately. Two, I could go off myself in the middle of the woods and never feel anything ever again. But since I've fought so hard up to this point to live, that sounds counter-intuitive. Three, I could drink until I can't feel my feelings anymore, and wait for the day to pass.
I decide on option three. I get so stupid stinking drunk that it's nearly three days before I see the light of day again. And only because there's a persistent knock on my door that resonates inside my head. I pull on clothes carelessly and stumble to the door. When I swing it open, my eyes have a hard time adjusting to the sunlight streaming into my dark house. The woman in front of me is backlit and I have to blink a few times to see her clearly.
"Annie?"
Annie Cresta smiles widely at me, giving me a small wave. Her other hand holds the almost two-year-old baby, who looks so stunningly like Finnick I nearly spit. "Hi, Johanna," she says meekly. "Can I come in?"
"What?" It takes me a moment to register her words, but once I do I shake my head. "Of course, yeah. Sorry about the...the mess. I...I don't have visitors often. Or ever."
They both step timidly into my home. I close the door behind her, switching on the lights. I lead them into the living room, which is one of the only rooms in the house that I haven't covered in bottles. I suddenly realize I look like drunk-ass Haymitch and it makes me twist my features in disgust. I really gotta get a cleaning lady. "Wow, this place is beautiful. Plutarch told me you built it yourself."
I nod, sitting down in the large chair across from the couch. She and her son settle into the cozy cushions, and he begins to bounce on the surface. "Thanks." We stare at each other awkwardly before I finally raise my eyebrow at her. "No offense, but why are you here?"
She points her gaze at me. I never noticed she had the same sea foam green eyes Finnick had. The same ones her boy has now. "I haven't seen you since we were in President Snow's mansion. It's been years. I wanted to know how you were. It was hard to find you."
"That's the idea," I grumble, and Annie looks injured. "Not because of you. I just...this has been a really crappy year for me. I just wanted to be left alone, you know?"
She shakes her head. "I never wish to be alone. I'm so glad I have Finny because I think I'd go crazy by myself." I assume Finny is the nickname for her son and I nod. To his credit, the little boy is well behaved and simply watches us interact. Finnick was an observer, too. "Why do you want to be alone?"
I let out a long sigh, leaning back into my chair. "How was the wedding?" I know the answer will come as a slap to the face, but I need to hear it.
"Don't deflect me," Annie replies with a small smile. "Why are you out here in the wilderness?"
I give her a shrug. "I guess this is where I feel most at home. Where everything's wild. No expectations." It's not a complete lie. But the look on Annie's face says she's not convinced.
"One of the things Finnick loved most about you was how honest and open you are. When you weren't actively trying to guard yourself emotionally," she adds with a nod. I guess they talked about me. Great. "And I have come to like that about you, too. You don't try to hide things in words like other people do. People do it a lot around me and it gets very frustrating." She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, and Finny's small hand on her lap snaps them back open again. Somehow Finnick has managed to be there for Annie via his genetics. "So why are you lying to me?"
"I'm not lying," I reply, unconvincingly. I rub my forehead with my hands, threading my fingers through my hair. "I guess it doesn't mean anything now for me to just be honest." I heave a sigh and Annie looks at me expectantly. "Katniss and I ..." I trail off, searching the air for the words I need to describe our situation. "We become... involved." Annie nods her head understandingly. She doesn't even flinch. I'm impressed. "I became more involved than she was, and she left. Well, I mean, I left. But she chose Peeta, so I didn't really have another option." I tug on my lower lip anxiously. "And I've spent the last year hating my life and wishing the sun wouldn't rise anymore."
The last part of my explanation comes out in a rush, and Annie's forehead furrows as she processes all that I've said. Her eyes scream with sympathy, but I think she knows me well enough to know I don't want her pity. There is a long silence between us as she rubs her temples. "You can't escape love, Johanna. Not even out here. It's as inescapable as the sun rising."
"I'm not escaping love, Annie. It's not here. There's nothing to escape from." I calm my voice down as I can see the twitch in her eyes. I don't want to be the reason this bitch flies off the handle in front of her toddler. "She doesn't love me," I murmur. "She never did."
Annie clucks her tongue and gives me an understanding nod. "So she said she was choosing Peeta over you, and then you left? Did you guys talk about it?"
"She didn't exactly say those words, but that was the idea. And what is there to talk about? She said it wasn't fair to him, and that she was sorry. I mean, it was pretty cut and dry. I didn't stick around so she could poke at my heart with a stick."
"And you didn't fight for her?"
I shake my head in surprise. "Fight for her? Annie, I nearly died for her."
"So did Peeta." I bristle at the suggestion, but the redhead is firm. "Do you love her?"
"I did."
She shakes her head impatiently. "Do you love her now?"
"Yes," I reply without hesitation. She looks confused. "What?"
"You're one of the strongest people I know. You fight for everything you love. You fought for your family and your life in the Games, for Katniss, Peeta and Panem in the Rebellion, and you're not going to fight for love? I find it hard to believe you survived all that torture to live out your life alone here in the woods."
"How could I? How could I tell a girl to tell the boy who's loved her for years, who sacrificed his entire existence for her, who breathes every day because of her; how could I tell her to leave him? What do I have to offer her? I'm nothing special, Red."
"You're plenty special, Johanna. And it's not about what you have to offer her. Does she know you love her?"
"I told her I loved her. She never said it back."
"That doesn't mean she doesn't love you."
"It kind of does," I shoot back, trying to remain calm. "She had a chance to say it to me, and she didn't. She didn't fight for me, either."
"Maybe she did and you didn't know it." Off my confused stare she lifts her shoulders. "You don't know what went on when she went back to Twelve after seeing you. I'm sure she was struggling, too." I don't respond, I simply shrink back into my chair. I probably would've cried but my tear ducts had long since gone dry. "Finnick always used to tell me how he thought Katniss had a 'thing' for you." She uses air quotes and I smirk at her. "I didn't understand, but he'd go on about how Katniss talked about you when you weren't around. And he'd talk about the look in your eyes when she'd walk in a room. He said he'd never seen you like that before. Mostly he felt bad for Peeta, because he figured he didn't stand a chance. You guys were like two trains on the same track, pushing toward each other."
"Well we certainly did crash," I add sardonically.
"I suppose you did." She suddenly stands from the couch, and little Finny follows suit. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...remember when you told me about the ropes? How two people destined to meet had those ropes? And you could only hope that the other person was living at the same time you were?" I nod. "You and Katniss have those ropes. It's clear. And so maybe things didn't work out like you thought they would, but maybe you didn't tug on the ropes hard enough to bring her back."
She scoops Finny up in her arms and begins to walk toward the door. I follow her, opening the entrance for her. She turns to me, smiling sadly. "You still didn't tell me how the wedding was," I remind, attempting a smart-ass grin. It falls short and I just give her a lopsided smile.
Without a word she begins backing out the door slowly. Once she's on my porch, a slow, sheepish grin appears on her face. "There was no wedding."
A/N: Thank you guys for the wonderful feedback. Sorry if this was a little slow...and I suppose I'm slightly sorry about the angst. But nothing worth having is ever worth obtaining easily, is it? And nothing has ever been easy for our two ladies. They don't make it easy on themselves, do they? (Ah, and I have not forgotten about their initial bet at the Block, I swear. Katniss and Johanna have forgotten at the moment, but this lady has not.) The next chap will be up soon!
