"Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic"
~Frank Herbert, Dune
For a moment I feel calm. The darkness is comforting in a way. It's one of those few moments that I can be completely invisible. Even the sound of the elevator opening doesn't register. I blink slowly when I finally realize that there's footsteps walking slowly towards me. Probably Derek, making his own way back to bed. "You wanting to drink again tonight?" I ask. I turn slowly, the cool air from the vent above me making goosebumps rise on my arms.
Finnick's eyebrows raise with a quiet smirk. His arms are crossed in front of him, his expression cautious. "I wasn't planning on it, but that's always a viable option." I can hear the strain in his voice. He's trying to gauge my mood, I know that. It's strange, having someone come after me. "Were you thinking mild headache or drunken stupor?" There's humor in his voice but I have no doubt that he would drink himself to death me with if that's what I wanted.
My heart wrenches painfully when I look at him. "Mine died too. A little while ago," he sighs. My throat is constricted but I force my face to stay indifferent. How long had I been staring out the window if another tribute already had time to die?
Just as I'm about to turn back around and let Finnick take the hint that I'm not in the mood to talk, he opens his mouth instead. "What's worse is now we're back on Snow's radar. Our job here is done for the year."
For a moment I just stare blankly at him, knowing he's trying to tell me something without explicitly saying it. I bite sharply into my cheek and silently shriek to myself. Of course he's implying that Snow will pimp us out to the highest bidders, but he's also talking about something more. The damned bracelet burns against my skin. I haven't taken it off for a second. I nod curtly. "Lots of good we did too."
Finnick laughs, though he doesn't sound at all amused. I roll my eyes, crossing my arms like I'm angry, but we both know I'm not. I push away from the wall, briskly turning down the hall back towards the small dining area. Maybe the premise of getting drunk isn't as unappealing as I thought.
I make it to the marble shelved bar but I don't pull anything down. I press my hands against it, feeling the icy coolness radiate through my fingers. I was wrong. The Games aren't done for District 7 quite yet. I'm a spy, a goddamned spy. It almost makes me laugh at the thought of it but there's that spot in the back of my brain that reminds me that if I get caught I'll be dead.
It hits me like a train. I'll be doing what Snow wants, but I don't have to listen to him. Sure, I'll sleep my way through all the rich, self-important men, but he can't tell me where or when. I reach up and touch my necklace again, feeling the warmth of the soft metal.
Snow doesn't control me anymore. So why am I waiting for his call?
"You know," Finnick sighs, sounding strangely thoughtful, "there was a point in my life, before I got reaped of course, when all I wanted was to have sex every night." I raise my eyebrows, scoffing at the comment. He holds his hand out, stopping me with faux-annoyed eye roll. "But I swear to God, when this is all over, I'm going to be celibate."
This time I actually laugh. Finnick Odair – celibate. It doesn't seem likely. Smiling to myself I pull free a half-empty bottle of what looks like tequila but I can't be sure through the psychedelic label wrapped around it.
Finnick clears his throat behind me, making me splash a little on my hand. "Are you going to share?"
"Get your own" I say sharply. I bite my lip and look down at my feet with a long breath. "Sorry" I murmur.
"You are?" he steps up beside me, pouring himself his own, brimming glass. I watch him as he turns to lean against the bar beside me. "I don't think I've ever hear you say that" he says with a smile.
I smirk with one corner of my mouth. "You probably haven't."
Finnick looks at me for a long moment before finally looking out into the dark, empty living room. It's comfortable, standing in silence. I appreciate that much about Finnick; I never feel obligated to speak when I don't want to. He understands that sometimes it takes too much effort.
And at this point that's more than I can ask for.
When I wake up the first thing I realize is that I left the blinds open. Rays of early morning, summer sun are shining right in my eyes, making me roll to the other side to avoid their glare. Finnick is still asleep beside me, one arm draped above his head. I didn't have a nightmare last night I realize suddenly. For the first night in weeks I've slept the whole night through.
I sit up slowly, dragging my hand through my short, tangled hair. Finnick groans like an old dog at my movement, his eyes opening halfway. "Why are you awake?" he asks, still half asleep.
"Why do you care?" I ask, looking down at him with a friendly eye roll. I always wake up before him anyway.
"Because you were awake all damn night. You should be sleeping" he murmurs, his eyes closed again.
"Oh please" I laugh. "How would you know? You were asleep in minutes."
"Only because drunk Johanna is mean" he laughs.
Fair point. He gives up his argument to go back to sleep while I get up and shower. I find myself wondering after Derek. I never saw him come back last night, though I retreated back to my room almost as soon as Finnick showed up. He knows how to deal with losing tributes, but I'm still worried about him.
I get dressed and quietly leave my room where Finnick is softly snoring. Derek is sitting in his usual place at the table, looking up at me like he knew I was coming. "I didn't think I'd see you today," he says into his coffee, "you seem to be…coping."
"Save it, Derek" I spit angrily, suddenly not so concerned.
"I'm sorry. I just want to help you Johanna," he nods like he's truly apologetic. Leave it to Derek to ruin the only good mood I've had since being here.
It doesn't take long after me storming back into my room for Finnick to get up and get dressed. He wants to go back down to the control room, to see how his female tribute is holding up and to check on Brenda, his partner. As much as I'd prefer not to, I agree to go with him.
I look only at the center screens in the room, showing us what the rest of Panem is currently seeing. As if they knew my attention was back to the screens, the cameras all turn to the young boy from District 12, his breathing labored as he lies clearly dying in a sandy outcropping. I clutch my mug of coffee tightly, focusing on the burn of my fingertips over the pounding of my heart. The girl from 11 stands over him, panting with the effort of cutting him down. She has a knife ready in her hand, and in a sudden movement she cuts his throat and his cannon booms.
I'm watching so intently that the sound of yelling makes me gasp with surprise. "Shit!" Haymitch shrieks, pushing away from his station. He's so drunk that it takes him multiple tries and a slew of cursing to actually get out of his chair. He staggers towards the door, losing his balance at the last second and crashes into my side. The hot coffee splashes over the brim, dripping down my hand with searing pain and sending the mug crashing to the floor. "Move dammit" Haymitch hisses. I grit my teeth, ready to fucking kill him when Finnick clamps his hand onto my upper arm.
"Don't touch me" I hiss at him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I growl, turning to Haymitch.
"You don't want to bring Peacekeepers down here, do you?" Finnick asks, always the voice of reason. "Is that worth it?"
"Almost" I sneer. He sighs but his hand loosens on my arm. I'm not going to do anything for the moment.
"Get out of here" Finnick says to Haymitch.
"Don't defend the bitch. She deserves more than that" a voice says from the side. My head snaps towards the voice to see Enobaria, her arms crossed in front of her, smiling her fang-toothed grin.
Before Finnick can stop me I wrench my arm away from him. In less than a second I grab Enobaria and push her back against the wall with as much strength as I can muster. All the anger, towards Snow, towards the Capitol, the Games, is ready and willing beneath my skin. Besides, I never liked her anyway. She screeches in anger and flies at me, her fist colliding with my cheek with surprising force. I can hear her laugh as I stumble backwards. Finnick yells something at me but I'm not listening. I'm going to kill her.
She screams when I slam my elbow into her face and send her to the floor. I'm ready to strangle her when I feel someone grab the back of my shirt and pull me roughly backwards. I'm shocked to see it isn't Finnick who pulled me off her, but Derek. Finnick is looking at me with wide eyes, using his body as a shield between me and Enobaria. I would have killed her if I had the chance and I can tell from how she glares at me the feeling is mutual.
But as much as I want to finish what I started, the way Derek hauls me away makes me hesitate. He's furious, more than I've ever seen him. He's not old and weak and complacent, but sturdy and able to do whatever he chooses.
"Stop it Johanna, you're not a child" he snaps, letting go of my shirt only to spin me around to face him. I can see redness seeping into his face as he looks between me and Enobaria.
He looks how I imagine he did when he was a tribute himself.
Derek leads me away, taking me as far as the elevator before shoving me inside with Finnick in tow before turning on heel and striding away, shaking his head. The doors take an eternity to close, leaving me to stare after my mentor and Enobaria, as Shane, her district partner, helps her to her feet. Finnick looks at me as we start to rise. I meet his eyes, refusing to be sorry.
He tells me to sit on one of the leather couches on his floor and I obey. He puts his hand on my face, lightly touching me cheek where Enobaria hit me. Even with a light touch it's already painful to any sort of pressure. "You're going to have a nasty bruise, but you'll live" he says with a smile. I shrug, finally breaking eye contact to stare through the TV, the bloody remains of the District 12 boy's death still on screen.