Song: First Love Never Die by Soko

Johanna wanted to run off again, streak down the beach, bare feet pounding holes into the wet sand. She wanted to throw herself in the water, again and again and again until she was too exhausted to do anything but collapse in the white sand.

That was what she wanted to do. But the last time she did that, Annie freaked out. She cried, she tugged her hair, she screamed like Johanna hadn't heard since they were both in the Capitol after the 75th. She wasn't sure why that particular incident triggered those memories for Annie, but that wasn't the point. It took her and Enobaria two hours to get her to calm down, and by then little Finn had woken up and was screaming along with his mother. So no, she didn't want to do that to Annie again. So she sat outside on the porch instead, her knees drawn up to her chest. Eyes closed, she listened to the waves smash against the shore in rhythm with her own heart.

She almost didn't hear the front door open. She almost wouldn't have known Annie was there at all if it weren't for the gentle brush of a hand against Johanna's shoulder. Still, she jumped, her heart beating out of her chest. She scrambled away before she remembered that it was just Annie.

"Just me," Annie said softly, sitting beside her.

"Yeah," Johanna mumbled. She hugged her knees to her chest, her chin resting on top. It had been years, and she still couldn't function like a normal person. She'd been better – slightly – before the 75th. She could function mostly alright, save for her daily meltdown. But after the Quell – after the Capitol, the torture – the slightest touch sent her spiralling. And she fucking hated it.

"I know you don't like birthdays," Annie began. "And I'm sorry. She was just… she looked excited; I can't remember her being excited about something before. I thought it would maybe be nice."

"It's fine," Johanna said. She knew it hadn't been intentional – Enobaria had only wanted to do something nice for her. A couple of years ago, she would have pissed herself laughing at the idea of Enobaria as a party planner. But since the war, since her unexpected move to District Four – Enobaria had needed a hobby. It had started with Little Finn's first birthday, and had quickly moved to weddings and anniversaries. Effie was a bad influence, Johanna thought, torn between amusement and exasperation. The friendship with Effie had been impossible, unexpected. It turned out that hearing someone scream really brought you together.

Still, Johanna would have thought Enobaria would have learnt from last year (which was when she'd thrown herself into the ocean) that birthdays just weren't Johanna's thing. It was nothing personal. Once upon a time she'd enjoyed them. But now they didn't do anything except remind her of the people who weren't there.

Annie looked at her. "C-can I ask… why don't you like them?"

Johanna shrugged. "I just don't feel like there's a point to them anymore. They don't do anything except remind me of the people who should be here celebrating with me. They used to be… fine. But now – they're only a reminder of how long it's been since – since –"

"Since… Eurydice?" Annie asked quietly.

Johanna inhaled sharply. "Don't say her name," she snapped, turning away from Annie. Even now, even after years… Eurydice's name still hurt to hear.

Annie didn't look perturbed. She was used to Johanna talking to her like that, and never, not once, did she let it slide. "Don't talk to me like that."

"Sorry. I didn't know that you even knew about her."

"Of course I do. Magnolia always talked about her."

"You never even met Magnolia," Johanna scorned. Annie hadn't set foot in the Capitol since her Victory Tour – or, more recently, since she'd been kidnapped from her home to torture Finnick. But Johanna didn't really count that.

"I met her at my Victory tour… she liked me," Annie said softly. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes distant, gazing at the ocean as if she half-expected Finnick to walk out of it, dripping with salt. "We talked on the phone sometimes. And she was friends with Mags and Finnick – they were always calling."

Johanna wasn't sure what to say to that. The thought of Finnick, her old dead friend, always sent a pang of grief through her – but it was nothing compared to how she felt whenever anyone mentioned Magnolia or Eurydice. Her parents, her siblings. She had to remind herself, sometimes, that Annie missed people too. They all did.

Annie continued, somewhat hesitantly, as if she was gauging for Johanna's reaction. "You know, if Eurydice loved you as much as they all said she did… she would want you to be free. Because you are free now, Jo." There was a gust of wind, and Annie's hair streamed across her face. "And if you – if you like Enobaria, you should embrace it. She likes you too. You make each other happy."

Johanna felt a flash of anger. "What the fuck do you know?" Johanna snapped. Annie flinched, as she often did whenever Johanna raised her voice. She immediately felt guilty. Annie didn't deserve that – she was so continuously kind, so understanding of Johanna. She felt, sometimes, that Annie understood her better than anyone. Better than Finnick had, even. They'd shared a cell, sometimes, when they were in the Capitol. Sometimes Enobaria was with them too. Johanna couldn't explain it, or understand it, but sometimes she felt as close to Annie as she had with Rowan. Johanna just felt such an innate sense of calm around her that was impossible to ignore. "Look. I'm sorry, okay. I just – I don't know how to deal with this. I haven't… felt anything for anyone else but Eurydice. I don't know how to do this without feeling guilty."

Annie smiled at her. "I know that Finnick would want me to be happy, if I ever fall in love again. He would want me to know I'm free. And I'm sure Eurydice would want that too. For you – to be happy."

Johanna wasn't sure what else to say. So she leaned into Annie momentarily. "Thank you, Annie," she said, hoping Annie knew just how much her words meant.

Annie put an arm around her, and squeezed. She didn't say anything, but Johanna knew that Annie understood what she had meant.

They sat there for some time, watching the waves, listening as the crashed onto the beach. Annie thought of Finnick. Johanna thought of Eurydice. She wondered, sometimes, what would happen if Eurydice appeared one day. If she walked out of the water like she'd just been for a long swim. Would they fall back into place, like two planets orbiting a star?

No, she realised. Even if the impossible happened – even if Eurydice miraculously returned – too much had changed for Johanna to go back to how it was. Not just politically. Not in terms of the Games. No, Johanna had changed too much. She knew she would never be able to go back. She'd accepted, long ago, that the only direction was forwards. Even if sometimes she screamed and cried and hurt herself and wanted to die. To turn back time would be to go back to a world with the Games, a world where children died in the streets and elderly people were as rare as diamonds. And she would never be able to survive that again.

Annie was right. She always was. There was a wisdom in her eyes that Johanna had learned not to ignore. Annie knew – what she knew, exactly, Johanna didn't know. Something about life, about the universe, about love. Because the three were one and the same, weren't they? Life wasn't life without love. And the universe couldn't be if there wasn't life.

Eurydice knew too. She had always been clever, creative, idealistic. It was the idealism that had, of course, gotten her killed. But Johanna had always – still did – admire her for it. No matter what happened, Eurydice stayed hopeful. Clung to happier times, relentlessly dreamed of a better future. She wouldn't want Johanna to be eaten alive with guilt. She wouldn't want her to live the rest of her life lonely, agonised.

She and Enobaria would have gotten along, Johanna thought. Johanna hadn't known Enobaria, not truly, until they were stuck in a cell in the Capitol. Not beyond the laughing girl at Capitol parties, not beyond the feral woman dripping with blood in the arena. But Johanna knew that they would have gotten along. There would be heated debates – spars – breakable objects thrown.

After a while, Annie got up and went inside without a word.

0o0o

"Hey. Um, can we talk?"

Enobaria looked nervous. She'd never seen Enobaria nervous before. She'd seen her terrified, in the Capitol during the war. She'd heard her screams of agony and hell, and even her screams of pleasure when they'd spent lonely nights together. But she had never, ever seen her look nervous. It was a strange thing to see on her face. Enobaria seemed to have all of two expressions – blank as slate, or twisted with anger when she and Johanna argued (which was often).

"I heard you and Annie talking." Enobaria fidgeted, another thing Johanna wasn't used to seeing her do. "About how she said you, uh, like me and I like you." Inwardly, Johanna cringed – the whole thing was reminding her of her first crush, in middle school. Enobaria looked embarrassed, too, perhaps realising how juvenile it was.

Johanna scowled at her. "What the fuck? You're listening to my private conversations now? Well you can go and fuck yourself."

Enobaria scowled right back, baring her pointed teeth. "Johanna, for fuck's sake, can you just listen to me? I do like you. I don't understand why, because you drive me fucking insane, but I do. I like you."

"What the fuck do you want me to do?" Johanna muttered, looking at her feet.

"I don't know," Enobaria sighed. "Can we just talk? And not scream at each other?"

Johanna crossed her arms. "I guess."

"Really? Are you sure you can manage it?"

"Manage what? There's nothing to manage."

"Manage not being an asshole for one second?"

"I'm not being an asshole, you asshole! I'm listening! Talk before I get bored."

Enobaria rolled her eyes. Johanna was struck speechless, for a moment – the woman from Two had so resembled Eurydice in that moment. The two of them were more alike than they were different. Johanna tried not to compare her two lovers, but it was hard not to when she saw so much of Eurydice in Enobaria. "I think," Enobaria began, talking slowly, "that what we have is special. I trust you, and I think – I hope – that you trust me, even though you pretend not to." Johanna grinned, at that – Enobaria knew her too well. "And I don't trust many people in this world. That makes what we have really special. And I would like to make this stupid, annoying, amazing thing between us official."

A gust of wind made Enobaria's dark hair stream out behind her. She'd been growing it out after she'd hacked it all off in a fit of rage after the war. It had grown back wavy, and the salty air made it curly. Johanna loved to run her fingers through those curls. Sometimes she would pick up a lock of it and drag it around Enobaria's face to wake her up. She hated that – she slapped Johanna's hand, every time, thinking it was a spider. For a big, tough, Career, she sure was scared of spiders. Johanna loved that about her. And with a sudden, crashing realisation, she realised that wasn't the only thing she loved about Enobaria.

Her eyes, as dark as coal, that sparkled even when she wasn't smiling.

The rage she let burn, was unafraid to release.

The love she had for Annie and Finnick's son, the love with which she held him, how gently she picked him up and kissed his cheek and brushed his golden hair.

It hadn't occurred to her before, but Johanna loved Enobaria. She raised her eyes to meet her lover's, and then their lips were crashing together and their arms were wrapped around each other and Johanna was pushing Enobaria down onto the sand and –

0o0o

Afterwards, they laid in the sand together, panting. A thin sheen of sweat lined Enobaria's hairline, and Johanna brushed it away, gently. Enobaria caught her hand and smiled. "I'm glad you're not being a little bitch about this anymore."

Johanna laughed. "Well, I always did want to be with an older woman. You're my favourite milf, Eno."

Enobaria frowned. "I'm not a mom."

"You fuck like one."

Enobaria shoved her into the sand. Johanna smiled.

She would never stop loving Eurydice. That was impossible. But she loved Enobaria too. For the first time since the first time they'd kissed, Johanna realised that the guilt had gone whenever she touched Enobaria, or talked to her, or even thought about her. She knew that it would only get easier from here.

And for the first time since she was sixteen, Johanna was feeling happy about her future.