The Victors' Village is unrecognizable. Walking up the street to her old house, Johanna wonders at first if it was attacked during the war. Then she recognizes the pattern: the vines, the grass, the trees, the shrubs...nature reclaiming its own. The Village was abandoned, she realizes, stunned.
Outside the front door, she pauses and looks over the structure. It still looks basically intact from this angle, although she can already tell it's going to need repairs.
"Well," Johanna says to Finnick, keeping her voice flippant. "Let's see what we've got."
In her head, Johanna has an image of what her house was like when she left. Even knowing how stupid it would be to expect nothing to change in six years, she can't help holding up the reality to her memory when she steps inside, looking for something familiar.
Nothing.
No furniture, no carpet, no belongings. Not even any squatters, which she'd told herself to be prepared for. Just, nothing.
Half in a daze, she opens the first closet she passes. Empty, of course. In the hallway bathroom, she starts to check the drawers, but there's not even a drawer to check. They took those too.
"Wow."
She isn't angry, but if she doesn't summon anger soon, something more embarrassing is going to escape. And she's angry at herself for caring.
Before she can, Finnick pokes his head around a corner and exclaims, "It's huge!"
"Why, were your victor houses smaller?" Johanna's grateful for the distraction, grateful that he's not watching her while she gets herself under control. It would be just like him to notice that and go exploring to give her a moment of privacy.
"I-I'm not sure yet. Let me look around. But they were definitely taller," Finnick explains. He turns around and demonstrates with his hands. "Two full stories, an attic, and a basement. This one's so low to the ground that a minute ago I thought it was small. But it just keeps going!"
"Want a tour?" It'll ache, but it'll give her time to decide what she wants to do now.
He does, so she takes him down the hall to the bedrooms, and they stick their head into each one.
"Definitely bigger," Finnick concludes.
"It looks smaller with furniture," Johanna snaps.
"Even so. I had a bed, a dressing table, and enough room to move around. This is—you could fit three beds in here and still have room!" At least he likes it. It makes her feel less stupid that she decided to move back for sentimental reasons.
"Which room was yours?" Finnick asks. "I imagine most of this space was wasted on a victor? Donn was the only one in Four who actually used his house."
"I used to move around," Johanna answers. "One bedroom after another." Just standing in this one makes her guts clench with the memory of withdrawal symptoms.
"But I think this one—let me show you—was my favorite."
Finnick follows her across the hall. The bay window is covered in leaves. "It has the best view," she tells him, "or it did, before it got totally overgrown."
"I'm looking forward to getting it all cleared away." She hopes he's as sincere as he sounds, because she's starting to remember how miserable she was the whole time she lived here, and that what she wanted was someone to share all the luxury with. Only now there's not even luxury.
Opposite the window, Johanna runs her hand along a niche with damaged wood paneling. "This used to be built-in shelving. Looks like they couldn't resist the shelves." She can't even really blame them. Looting is practical. Just a matter of survival. And it's not like she's been here in years.
Finnick's in the adjacent bathroom. "No, I'm telling you, this is way nicer than anything we had. The only place I've seen separate tubs and showers was in the Capitol. Did you have hot baths?"
"When we had hot water, yes." Joining him, Johanna reaches out toward the tap. "How much you wanna bet we don't even have running water now?"
They watch the faucet, but nothing comes.
"Well, I can see I have my work cut out for me."
By the time they get to the south side of the house, Johanna's caught on to how different things were in Four. "Did you have sunrooms?"
Looking around at the walls of glass, Finnick just shakes his head. His awe keeps her from glaring at the missing panes.
"When it's not overgrown, and the sun's coming in, it gets warmer than you'd think. I used to sit in here all the time."
"Annie would have loved this," Finnick murmurs. When Johanna glances at him, he explains, "For her woodcarving. She had to cram a studio into a corner of her dining room.
"It's going to be wonderful," he concludes, sounding genuinely enthusiastic. "I don't know how the hell you heat a place this size, but I can't wait to move in."
"One room at a time," Johanna answers. "You close the door and turn on the heat, and turn it off when you leave the room. They took some of the doors, but every room is supposed to have one, even the kitchen. You'll notice how the kitchen's set off from the rest of the house, in case it catches on fire."
"That makes sense. We'll keep Katniss out of it, then."
"Crazy boy." Johanna snickers, involuntarily, but gratefully. Only Finnick could make her laugh today. "That just leaves the kitchen. This way."
She's sure it was the first thing to be raided, so she doesn't even bother stepping all the way in.
Finnick does, turning around in circles. "Why is there a big fireplace in here? Doesn't it get warm enough?"
"It's a cooking hearth," she explains. "It's really good for roasting."
"I see. So you have a hearth instead of a stove?"
Johanna whips her head around. "They took the fucking stove. Of course they did." She leaves as abruptly as she entered. "Well, if you still want to live here, we're going to need a lot more supplies than I reckoned with."
"Can we spend a night in town, collect supplies, and start carrying them here tomorrow?"
"We can." Johanna taps her fingers against her thigh, thinking. "I don't know anyone, but we can probably find someone who lets rooms. Let's see if Mrs. Windy's still around. She was good in an emergency if you were driving a truck up here for delivery and a storm hit."
When they get there, Finnick smiles at the middle-aged woman Johanna introduces him to, and he holds onto that smile when recognition flashes into her face and she gives them a suspicious look.
"You'll need two rooms. Unless you're married."
Johanna takes a deep breath and rolls onto the balls of her feet, braced for a fight. "You're serious. What, saving the world isn't good enough?"
"Those are the rules," Mrs. Windy answers, not too troubled if they decide not to stay.
Finnick's torn between making peace and backing Johanna. Before he can decide, she's rolled her eyes and turned her back. "Every time I think I miss home, I forget how stupid it is." She starts heading toward the door.
"I'm married, does that count?" Finnick tries, with a wheedling, harmless expression.
It moves her not at all. "This isn't the Capitol, boy," she says sternly.
In her eyes, he can see the old familiar condemnation: worthless playboy, never done an honest day's work, rutting like an animal...
Biting back his disappointment, he goes outside to join Johanna. She's nowhere to be found, and he has to walk around until he spots her, already striding off. He catches up to her with only a little effort, but then struggles for the breath to speak as he follows her.
"We need to get an inn founded." Johanna doesn't look to either side as she strides and seethes. "Did she say anything after I left?"
When he doesn't answer, Johanna finally turns to glance at him. Finnick puts a hand over his chest and gives her a desperate look.
"Oh. Sorry. Dammit. Sit down. I'm sorry." Johanna grabs his arm, hauls him over to a boulder, and pushes him down on it. "Catch your breath."
She stands over him with her face in tight lines, and Finnick pulls himself together as fast as he can.
"Is there enough traffic up here to be worth an inn?"
"Oh, there will be," Johanna promises or threatens. "For now, though...are we married?"
Finnick shrugs. "I promised you that if we went through with this, we didn't need to announce it. We don't. All that matters to me is not having to sleep alone. We can go back and sleep on the floor of your old house."
"It'll be drafty," Johanna warns. "But we're going to fix it up anyway, so...it's up to you. Did you notice no one started living in the Village after it was abandoned? That's how anti-Capitol the attitude around here is. I'm surprised they didn't rip down the structures after they pillaged. Probably afraid of ghosts."
"Johanna, if there was one ghost I'd be afraid of, it'd be yours."
"My ghost would follow you around, and anybody who messed with you, I'd fuck their shit up. You're not sleeping alone, don't worry. Do you want to go back to the Village? A few blankets and pillows and it would be as comfortable as anywhere we've lived."
"Do you want to live in Four?" he counters. He doesn't, but maybe they can find some spot far in the south that doesn't remind him too much of home. "I slept with half the district and no one was more than a little exasperated. It's much closer to the Capitol, in good and bad ways."
"I don't know. I like it up here, you know. I like the trees and mountains and lakes. I don't know what I'd do with an ocean. And the people...I understand them. I can predict them. I mean, I should have predicted the room nonsense, I obviously haven't been living rurally enough lately, but as soon as she said it, it was familiar, at least. You and Four and your emotional openness...I don't know. I get weirded out enough just living with you.
"But most of all, I feel like I have a job here. I've been rebuilding, and it's been going well. I never let them drive me away before. Why let them now? I want to finish what I started."
Finnick nods. "Then we stay. I'd rather be here. The isolation is...a relief. I like people, but getting it through my head that I'm not on camera any more has been hard. It's easier up here, where it's so obvious there are no cameras."
"So. Head back?"
Finnick presses his lips together. "On second thought, I don't know if I should walk that far." At Johanna's surprised blink, he says, "I know, it's not that far. That should tell you how bad it's gotten the last couple of years. I think I can manage a night alone. I'm tired enough I'll probably sleep anyway."
Johanna gets a stubborn look. "Not on your first night here. I'll ask around. You wait here and catch your breath."
Finnick waits on his boulder. Behind him are orderly rows of spruce, obviously planted after the previous tree cover was removed. To his right, snow-capped peaks reflecting the sunlight. Ahead, trees and buildings, trees and buildings. The streets don't even deserve the name, just paths marked by stones.
To Finnick, used to the crowding of District Four, this town seems almost abandoned. Occasionally, he spots someone walking from one building to another, or seemingly out for a stroll, but only one at a time. A couple of children playing in the distance. No streams of people in motion.
Before the war, he used to have to head inland just to go for a morning run. The streets and the shore were too crowded. He'd run along the boundary fence until he hit a spot where he knew the sea traffic thinned out enough for a good swim; then he'd head toward the water.
Here? Johanna says she would hike for hours before the paths up the mountains became too overgrown. He wishes he could.
Putting his hand over his heart, Finnick can feel it laboring, even at rest.
When Johanna returns, it's with a disgruntled yet satisfied look.
"Found something?"
"Here's how you game the system. We still have to pay for separate rooms. But there's no curfew for the sitting room, as long as we're quiet. And I know you sleep sitting up. So there you have it."
Finnick sighs. It'll work for him, but it's not fair to Johanna, who should have a proper bed.
"This is how we're doing it," Johanna says briskly. "You don't have to sit there looking for better ideas. I'm afraid you'll have to walk a ways, but not as far as the Village. It's the best I could do."
Finnick stands up and reaches for the bag closest to his feet. "Let's just go. I'm not getting any less tired sitting here."
Johanna beats him to the bags. "I'll take them." Then she stops. "Finnick. Wait."
With a curious look at her, Finnick sits down again. "What?"
"We can share a room. I'll deal with the fallout."
Finnick just shakes his head. "But I am curious what fallout."
Johanna makes a face. "It's hard to explain. Expectations change. It's hard being an unattached woman, and it's hard being a married woman. Restrictions everywhere. But it's hard in different ways, and I got used to fighting my way through the first one. I built a whole strategy around being aloof and unavailable. Even when I was teasing them with the prospect of marriage, I was frigid as hell. No one wanted me for anything but the money.
"I don't want to have to switch strategies, deal with the assumption that if I'm married, you own the house, you own any businesses, and you call all the shots, and deal with not being able to get anything done unless you approve it. I know you'd approve of anything I do short of murdering Katniss, but that's not the point."
"No," he agrees, "you shouldn't have to go through a middleman, even as a formality. It's only for a day or two, until we get settled back in the Village. It's fine, Johanna. Let's go."
"One other thing." Johanna touches his back. "I'm sorry I jumped down your throat last week about last names. I didn't realize you guys didn't do that in Four."
"Sometimes we do, but I never imagined you would. My mother didn't change her name. My father did," he adds with dark humor, "after I became a Capitol playboy. Not you, though. You're Johanna Mason, always will be."
After dinner, Finnick chats easily with the inhabitants of the house, interested to learn about their lives, but he's tired enough to feel a little relief when they go to bed at nine. They leave him and Johanna with instructions to put out the lamp when they go to bed, and then they're gone. Johanna puts it out at eleven, but she and Finnick keep talking desultorily in their chairs.
"Why do they care if we sleep in the same room?"
"It's part of proving we're not Capitol. No casual sex. It's stupid. The first thing I did when I got to the Capitol was everything even I couldn't get away with here."
"And yet you won't knit," Finnick points out gently.
"Well. You may have nothing to prove. I never said I didn't."
Finnick asks her for memories of life here before the war, and slowly, hesitantly, she shares them. She talks most easily about her grandmother. "She was a lady. Not like me. But she was anything but tame. She always liked to be on the move. Once the kids were grown up, she started working with the food train that followed the log drivers down the river. It was her ideal job. She only left it when my mother died and she came to help out with the new baby.
"Gran used to tell stories of life on the river, made it sound so much more glamorous than anything I'd ever seen, but my dad thought I was too young to be traveling so much. He kept me in the sawmill with him when I was a kid. It didn't pay well, but he didn't want to let me out of his sight. Then she got really sick, and my dad and I both lost our jobs at the mill for missing so much time trying to get her back on her feet, and she died, and then the shit hit the fan. My dad and I had a big fight, but he couldn't stop me. I took out all the tesserae I could get my hands on. Then I contacted one of Gran's friends, who got me a job with a food train.
"Dad wanted to keep trying for another mill position, but before he'd started looking I'd already found a job. It didn't pay much, not for a thirteen-year-old girl with no skills, but at least I had a place to go. And I kept taking out tesserae. I knew I couldn't move up if I was weak from hunger. I've told you this before, how I went from following the log drive along the banks making food, to driving the logs out in the river."
"You did. And you held it against your dad?"
"Of course. I mean, I guess I don't really blame him for me ending up in the arena, but I did throw our history in his face in every disagreement. The tesserae, my job, everything. He eventually found another mill to take him, but then he had that accident. I paid for his healer, and I kept the roof over our heads and food on the table. He never went back to his job. Too tired.
"It's not exactly that I wish I'd been nicer. It's that I wish we'd had a chance to live together when I wasn't desperate. I was always so sure I was about to lose my job because they resented having a woman on the team, and I had a dependant, and I had no friends to help us out...it was so bad I half-dreaded the day when I stopped qualifying for tesserae, even if it meant I was safe from reaping. I was scared all the time, and I took it out on him.
"Once I had a steady income and a house, I was planning on taking better care of him, seeing if I could cheer him up. The Village is gorgeous, and I never got to show anyone around. And now I'm almost thirty and I've seen so much shit that I'm pretty sure I can survive anything. The only thing I'm afraid of any more...well, I've told you."
Ending up like him. Like me.
Johanna shakes herself out of the past and says in steadier tones, "Anyway. You know I can't help thinking of him at a time like this, but you're not, like, his surrogate, because that's creepy shit."
Finnick smiles. "I believe you."
"The apathy is what I could never stand, though. Did you hear them, earlier, telling us they used to have running water in this house? And working flush toilets? But no one will do anything about it, because roughing it is part of not being Capitol.
"As usual, I'll have to do it, and it's got to get done now, because in a generation, no one will remember running water, and no one will give a shit, and it'll be even harder to introduce technology."
"I know. But have you noticed that when you start a project, you never have trouble getting the manpower together? You'll find your electricians and handyworkers and plumbers and architects, and everyone will buckle down and get to work."
"But no one will get started unless I'm breathing down their necks. That's what frustrates me."
"So? You don't know how to get the water running again. It makes no more sense for them to be frustrated with you over not knowing how to fix a pipe than for you to get upset because they don't have your organizational mindset. We had the same experience when we brought the Career academy instructors up from Four: plenty of willing soldiers who just needed training."
"It's not a skill, though," Johanna argues. "It's just talking to people and keeping them on schedule. Anyone could do it, but no one will."
Finnick smiles. "It's a skill. Making contacts, making small talk, charming people, getting secrets out of them...it doesn't look like a skill either, but it is. Mags organizing an underground revolution, a skill. Rudder having whatever it takes to transfer knowledge to students, a skill that I never had. Admit you're good at what you do, and not just anyone could do it."
She folds her arms. "I don't believe you." But Finnick thinks he heard a hint of pleasure, so he lets it go.
When the clock strikes midnight, Finnick takes a deep breath. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Remember what I said about not arguing? You stay here."
"I'm not arguing," Finnick says. "I'm just saying it'll be fine." But he makes no move to get up. Johanna's so stubborn, she'd probably tie him down. It makes it easier just to relax and trust her.
Another silence follows. Then she sighs. "If I'd made friends when I lived here, we'd have found someone to take us in. But I'm an outsider, almost as much as you. I moved here from the valley, I speak just differently enough for it to matter, and just living in the Village meant I was flaunting my Capitol wealth."
"And I was living in the Capitol and flaunting everything I had," Finnick says wryly. "It's okay. We'll make this work."
He wakes up from a doze to find the first light starting to creep in through the window. In high summer, at these latitudes, it must still be quite early.
Hoping Johanna's sleeping, he checks, but she's curled up in her chair, shifting restlessly. She hears him stir, and looks over at him. He can just make out the outline of her face
"Thanks for..." he says tenderly. Everything.
"Told you, I didn't sleep in the Quarter Quell except when you were there. Go back to sleep, it's still early. I'm here."
Finnick doesn't know if she manages to sleep at all, and he feels vaguely guilty because he suspects he knows the answer, but he does fall asleep again, almost instantly.
With all that rest, he actually feels somewhat energetic as they start back to the Village, and takes as many bags as he can carry. Even the prospect of the uphill walk doesn't daunt him.
He finds himself more willing than capable, though, and by the time they arrive, it's all he can do to drop the bags just inside the door and stay on his feet while he leans against the frame, gasping.
Johanna stares at him, eyes narrowed, and he distracts her with a question as soon as he can.
"So we can live together, but not get married?" Five years, and he's still learning how this place works.
"It's complicated, Finnick. Obviously, living together, when they wouldn't even let us share a room, is going to cause problems. But they're the same sorts of problems I'm used to handling. Sometimes it's easier to go all the way beyond acceptable, than let them catch you being conventional. I live with you and say 'fuck the consequences,' I alienate more of my neighbors, but I get to lump it under 'Johanna does whatever the hell she wants.' We get married, and suddenly they'll start expecting me to be a wife."
"So it's harder, but you're better at hard?"
"Something like that. So where are we camping out?"
After hunting around, they find a spot in the dining room where the floor is pretty intact and near a fireplace. "The wood's going to have to be ripped up and replaced in at least three rooms," Johanna notes. "At least there's no shortage of lumber."
While Finnick curls up in the corner with half the blankets and pillows, not quite sleepy but needing to rest, Johanna prowls through the building with a pen and pad she picked up at the general store, making notes.
After about an hour, Finnick gets up and starts putting the food in the pantry and thinking about what to make. He's tired of fish, but it's what he's most comfortable making, so he gathers some twigs and branches from outside and starts a fire.
"Johanna," he calls toward the hallway, where he can hear her muttering over the closets, "what do we do for water?"
"I brought enough for drinking today, but there's a well," she says, coming into the kitchen. "I'll need to check to see if the bucket's still there. I know, I miss the faucet too. We'll get them on speaking terms again soon."
"I was going to boil some mush," Finnick explains.
"Let's just do fish and cabbage," she decides, "and then we can prioritize what we need to take care of next."
"Also, I was going to improvise a pine broom. I think the dust on the floor isn't doing me any good."
"Then I don't think you should be the one sweeping. I'll go cut off a branch—wait!" Johanna's face lights up, and then she runs into the living room. "I hope they didn't find it."
Curious, Finnick watches while she pokes and tugs at the floorboards.
"Right, this one." With the point of the knife on her belt, she pries the plank of wood up, and triumphantly pulls out an axe, wrapped in leather.
"My ceremonial axe from winning the Hunger Games," Johanna explains, caressing the blade. "I trained with it before the Quarter Quell. Then I hid it before I left. It keeps its edge better than the locally made axes. I was peeved at the time because it was a felling axe instead of the battle axe I wanted, but that's just what we need now."
"Nice. They let me keep the trident my sponsors sent, when I asked nicely and agreed to do a lot of extra propaganda appearances with it. So I had a combat trident on my wall, not the fishing one I expect I would have ended up with otherwise."
"What's the difference?" Johanna asks.
"The fishing trident is barbed, to keep the fish from sliding off. The combat trident has smooth prongs, for yanking out when you need a weapon again two seconds later."
"Interesting." Johanna rises from the floor, and hesitates. "It is pretty dusty and cobwebby down here. You chop, I'll sweep?"
"Deal."
After fashioning a broom, Finnick passes it to Johanna in the doorway and agrees to wait outside until she's done. "Smells nicer than any other broom I've had," he comments as he hands it over.
"It's going to shed, though," Johanna points out. "I'll show you how to make a proper pine broom at some point."
"True. We'd need a broom to clean up after this broom."
For some reason, he finds this funny, and continues snickering while he wanders around outside looking at his new yard. It's larger than the one he had in Four. He can barely see their neighbor's house, although he realizes the overgrown foliage probably adds to the sense of distance. Trees, shrubs, weeds, and vines cover everything in sight.
Wandering farther afield in the Village, he finds the well, and after poking at it a bit, manages to draw water. After that exertion, Finnick sits on the stone edge of the well and catches his breath. He can't help but think with a twinge, I know someone who could fix the houses. And someone who could bring the yards to life.
When he hears Johanna shout from the door that it's safe to come in, he presents her with the water.
"Oh, good, they left the bucket."
"Out of curiosity, where's the boundary to the property?"
Johanna looks dismayed, and then rolls her eyes cynically. "Don't tell me they took the fence, too."
"They've been taking stones from the wall surrounding the Village, too."
"Of course. Wait, you walked that far?"
He smiles. "Very slowly. I'll get to work on food. I'm hungry enough that fish is starting to sound appetizing."
With no table and no plates, they eat standing over the counter. Johanna talks nonstop with her mouth full about the repairs that need to be made, the well, the burst pipes, the outright sabotage in the Village, the obstacles to getting Despard and the Village hooked back up on the power grid, the provisions they'll need to lay in in the house, whether it's a good idea to build an outhouse first...
"I'll cook?" Finnick offers, as this daunting list trails off. Normally he'd offer to carry provisions back and forth, but he can barely make the round trip in a single day. "Johanna, we're going to need help with all this."
"Well, obviously. I'm planning on mobilizing the whole town. I've been doing this for years in different regions."
"I know. But it's a different dynamic here, and a lot more isolated. I was thinking while I was resting, and we need to get the Village populated again. There are some twenty, thirty homes up here, and we can make the Village an extension of the town."
"Good luck!" Johanna scoffs. "It's been abandoned for years. Did you notice they burned down the Peacekeeper cabins? I was going to point it out on the way here, but then I got distracted."
Finnick can guess what distracted her: him dropping to the ground with a sudden, urgent need to put his head between his knees. He recovered, but she insisted on carrying part of his share of provisions the rest of the way.
"We just need to convince them that they're victors. Not of the Hunger Games, but of the revolution. They'll be more invested if they consider the Village theirs. And we'll be less alone in it. This whole endeavor is about making North Panem less isolated, isn't it? I'd like to be less isolated up here."
Johanna has to concede the point. "Fine. I think you're right, it'll make our job easier. But I still don't think they're going to go for it."
Finnick points out, "These houses are bigger and better built, with more amenities. I don't think the place we stayed last night was even wired for electricity. Talk about the central heating to them with as much gusto as you do to me, and that should catch their interest."
Johanna shakes her head. "They'll just think I'm a wuss from Four."
"It's a numbers game," Finnick says impatiently. "Talk about the central heating, and some of them will definitely be interested. Okay, here's the deal. I'll be the wuss from Four, and I'll find out who's interested. I can't promise I'll be up for much physical labor, but I'll make and work contacts as long as I can. And having neighbors will make that easier, when I can't make the trip into town any more."
Johanna busies herself cutting more cabbage, trying to hide her reaction to the reminder that he's going to keep getting worse.
"You'll introduce me around, then?"
Johanna looks dubious. "I'm sure I'll recognize some of them by face. If they still live here. If they haven't changed too much."
Finnick chokes back laughter. "Johanna, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but it might be a good idea to get to know your neighbors. You lived here for four years."
"Oh, I'm going to have to. We've got to get my heating back."
"I mean socially."
Johanna puts her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes. "I may have lived here for four years, but you've known me for how long?"
Finnick looks at her with fond exasperation. "Fair enough. I'll take the lead."
"People like you, anyway."
"No." Finnick shakes his head. "They like the persona. I find people interesting enough to listen to them talk, ask the right questions, and remember what they've told me, but if they start interacting with me when I'm being myself, they back off quickly." He gives her a little smile. "You stuck around for some reason."
Johanna looks uncomfortable. "You made me feel like things could happen, that the world could change," she says quietly. "You opened up the possibilities. And besides, you were stubborn enough to keep liking me even when I attacked you every time you opened your mouth. Anyway," she adds before he can respond to that, "we've got our work cut out for us. Repairs, electricity, running water, hot water, decent roads, more food, better food, better medical care, and, someday, my heating."
Between Finnick's contacts and Johanna's organizational experience, by late autumn the house is in a state where they're prepared to winter in the Village, even without central heating. Finnick's glad, because it's home already, but he's also glad that Hanrik and Ella Ward have also decided to spend the winter in their new Village house. With everyone else wintering in Despard, it'll be good not to be completely alone up here.
"That reminds me," Finnick tells Johanna, "Liss Carter said she'd be interested in keeping an inn in Despard, if there's enough business to turn a profit. Can she do that? I've been living here for five years and I still never know what women are allowed to do."
"Is she married?" Johanna asks. Then she scowls. "And don't give me that How do you not know this? look. Is she married?"
Finnick grins sheepishly. "No, not married. Yet."
"Well, if she gets married, her husband will own the inn, but she'll probably still do all the work. Is she planning on living there alone?"
"She and her sister live together. She said ideally they'd stay where they are and manage the inn from there, if we can add a building on or near their current property."
"Should work, then. I'll look into it in the spring, when I start driving traffic between here and the foothills." Johanna smiles and bumps him with her shoulder. "I tease you, but it's useful that you get to know everyone and help me figure out what they'll be good for. We make a good team."
"I enjoy it. And it's probably the only contribution I'll be able to make soon." Finnick can feel his lungs starting to labor even when he's done nothing but rest.
While Johanna chops a stack of firewood for their winter stash, Finnick stands by and keeps her company. Even if there were a spare axe, wielding it is too much. The last time he tried, he ended up dizzy and tired, with a pounding head.
Whenever a decent-sized pile accumulates, Finnick stacks it in the wood bin. Until at last he has to stop that as well. He stretches out on the porch then and listens to the sounds of birds, small wildlife, and Johanna.
A larger rustling sound turns out to be a moose, but when Johanna asks Finnick if he feels like butchering, all he can do is shake his head. They let it go.
When she joins him for a break, he passes her a tin cup he's kept ready, and she chugs the water down.
"Thanks," she mumbles between gulps. "I used to chop wood for the neighbors when I was young. Around the time Gran was dying and just after. It didn't really pay, not in money, but I could get food or sometimes medicine that way. I got pretty good at it."
"I bet." He looks at the axe leaning against the porch. "Wait, are you using your old felling axe? Ella said we could borrow their splitting axe."
"What?" Johanna straightens, indignant. "She said I couldn't!"
Finnick throws up his hands defensively. "I did not sleep with her! I swear."
Johanna laughs hysterically. "Sure you didn't. You're on a first name basis with her.
"That reminds me, while we're stocking up for winter, if we're going go exploring, we should do it soon. There's good hiking around here, and I want to show you around while we have time."
"We've been busy," Finnick excuses, trying not to read too much into "while we have time." She meant the weather, not his lungs. "But I'm game, I'd love to see your favorite spots. Speaking of game," he jokes, "are we hunting moose, or are the moose hunting us?"
Rolling her eyes, Johanna slaps his arm lightly. "Bring the gun and stay on the paths. I haven't been bothered by any wildlife yet. Even when all I had was a felling axe."
As they're packing some water, food, ammunition, and extra layers of clothing, a slow, triumphant smile spreads across Johanna's face. "I know where we're going."
"Where?" Finnick's glad to see her delight. He's never forgotten her deceptively casual I never got to show anyone around.
"Come with me. You'll see."
Johanna hurries them out of the house after that, and waits more impatiently than usual when he has to take the walk slowly.
Sitting on a tree stump, catching his breath, Finnick looks around. It's nice, lots of evergreen trees and crisp air, but it's not spectacular. Not if you've been living up here for the better part of a year, and spectacular is your new normal. "Is this about the walk or the destination?"
"Just hurry up."
"I'm coming as fast as I can. Now I know how I made everyone else feel."
"It's your turn now. Don't collapse on me, though. You're smaller than a tree, which means in theory I should be able to move you, but you won't like it."
Finnick laughs, wheezes, and puts a hand over his chest. "Stop making me laugh."
A complicated look crosses Johanna's face, and Finnick makes a wry motion with his mouth. "Yeah, that's one reason I don't want to drag this out. There's only so long I'm willing to live without being able to laugh."
Johanna takes him by the hand for the rest of the hike and doesn't care who sees.
Realizing that at his pace, it's going to be a long, slow journey, Johanna reins in her impatience and begins a monologue. Finnick can't participate, but he's glad for the companionship.
"You know how most of the communities up here in the mountains were originally set up to restore deforested areas. Well, the easiest way to restore a forest is to plant a bunch of trees all in a row, all the same type. But then it turns out what you get isn't as good as the original forest. So they had to put more and more effort into sending scientists into the virgin woods to make notes, and then try to replicate that.
"If you look around, we're in what I think of as intermediate forest. If you head downhill from Despard, some of the older areas—the first ones to be deforested and restored, the most easily accessible—have the very artificial, tree farm look, and this clearly isn't that. But if you're like me and you've spent a lot of time in pristine forests, this feels different. I'm not a scientist and can't put my finger on it, but I can tell the difference."
After years in Seven, Finnick's starting to tell the major trees apart, but it hasn't been his primary focus, and he certainly doesn't know most of the other flora, so he nudges Johanna as they walk and points to this or that, and she identifies it as they go.
"That's cedar. There's very little around here, but there's a magnificent patch farther on. Farther than I'm going to take you," she says with a concerned glance at him. "But cedar was always hugely in demand in the Capitol, for furniture and chests and that sort of thing.
"Oh, look, we're almost here." Johanna points. "Just around the bend."
Finnick thinks about persevering, but if he wants to enjoy whatever the surprise is, he realizes he'd better sit down before, not after, he sees it.
There are no stumps in sight, so he finds a tree with a relatively smooth surface and lowers himself to the ground where he can lean back against it. Johanna stands in front of him, holding the shotgun. My grizzly.
He wants to ask her to set down the gun and come sit with him, put her hand on his chest even if it doesn't help him breathe, but he knows she's going through a turmoil of emotions, and holding a weapon and standing guard makes her feel better. After all the time he spent making Mags' stroke and Johanna's back all about his need to do something, he can only be amused at finding a kindred spirit.
Finnick doesn't ask, but Johanna takes his hand again when they resume walking. As soon as they turn the bend, he sees a tiny, vibrantly blue pool. It is, as she predicted, empty.
The sight is gorgeous, even breath-taking, but Finnick misses swimming so much that his chest starts to ache for a different reason. "I see, you have water," is all he says, flatly. He knows he's supposed to be delighted whenever someone gives him a gift, and convince them it's what he wanted more than anything, but he can't, not now that he's promised himself not to have to perform any more. Not here, not with her.
Even if she meant well, Finnick feels himself growing angry. I told you one of the reasons I couldn't move back home was that I couldn't handle living near the ocean. Now you want me to look at the water and not be able to go in?
When he gets his disappointment under control enough to look at Johanna, though, he finds she's grinning and stripping. "Come on, I have a surprise for you."
Uncertain, but trusting her, Finnick begins taking off his layers of clothing and follows her into the pool.
"Oh, my god, it's hot!" he exclaims the moment the water covers his feet. "Wow, it's even warmer than home."
"Some of the springs are too hot for bathing," she tells him, "and I got a couple bad burns before I learned to test, but there are a couple around here that are perfect."
"You've been holding out on me!" Finnick accuses and starts trying to dunk her.
"No!" she protests, escaping and shaking her wet hair. "I swear, I forgot! I didn't come here often. Usually it was when I was in the middle of a hike and needed some pain relief. I'm sorry I forgot. Finnick, I wouldn't have held out on you!"
"I believe you," he concedes, but he narrows his eyes playfully at her as though he's not quite convinced.
"I wouldn't," Johanna repeats. "I brought you here the moment I remembered."
"So you did." He thought he'd gotten used to the hot/cold extremes of Seven, but being in hot water outdoors in cold air is a new feeling, one he's glad he lived to experience.
He can't swim, but he can float on his back, and he lets himself revel in the gentle embrace of the water. Wading in the surf would be torture, but this place is kinder. Welcoming, where the ocean is challenging. He finds himself blinking back tears at being, for one unexpected glorious moment, home again. But what he misses most, he realizes, is being immersed.
So he finds a spot where he can sit with the water up to his throat, the best he can do without being able to hold his breath, and Johanna comes and sits beside him.
"Are we allowed to sit in the water naked like this?" He hadn't thought twice about it when stripping, and he knows Johanna adapted quickly to the Capitol license, but then he remembered to wonder what would happen if someone else comes along.
"Oh, hell no. But I'm hoping someone shows up and clucks at us. I'd like to jump down someone's throat." Johanna gives him a melancholy look. "I miss play-fighting with you," she admits quietly. "I have to stop attacking you if you can't fight back."
Finnick, who's still feeling so drained after a short bout he can hardly believe it, looks at her regretfully.
"So are there actual consequences," Finnick wonders, looking for a less difficult, if not much more pleasant, topic of conversation, "or just clucking? Because I've been clucked at my whole life, and-"
"No, there are actual consequences," Johanna informs him. "I don't think anyone's going to burn the house down over our heads, but there's work I want done that will never get done that I don't talk about, because it's not your fault and I'm trying to shield you from the consequences. But I don't care. It's worth it."
Regretful yet again, Finnick takes her hand under the water and squeezes it. Then he has to let go hastily and press both his hands to his chest for a coughing fit. So close to the surface of the pool, it's hard to bend his face down to cough properly while trying not to inhale water, and Johanna grabs his upper arms to steady him.
"I have to move," he gasps out, and he shifts backwards until the water's no longer putting pressure on his chest. Damn it.
It's colder with more skin exposed to the air, but what he really hates is the feeling of giving up the water little by little. Johanna stays beside him, hands firm around his triceps, and that's the only thing that makes the concession bearable.
"Is this how you learned to swim?" he asks, trying not to think about himself.
"Ha! No, I learned to swim while fending off hypothermia. You think we had hot springs down by the river? We had a fucking current, and nobody learned to swim."
"Showing them up?" Finnick wonders. He can relate.
"Not so much. See, if you fell in, you were counting on someone to pull you out, throw you a pole or something you could grab onto. And I didn't have any confidence anyone would pull me out. I figured it'd be along the lines of, Oh, well, guess this is why we don't let women work the log drive. They die. Which, men die on drives too, but at least they'll have each other's backs." Johanna brings a fist down into the limpid waters, remembering. "You were the first person who ever, ever had my back."
"But not the last," Finnick says with confidence. Reminded of her back, he puts his hand lightly over her right shoulder blade, and she leans back. "How is it?"
"I wasn't thinking about it. So not too bad, I guess."
He rubs his thumb over the spot she's told him hurts the most. "They took the scars, of course?" They took his scars, they took his body and facial hair before it even grew, they took his fertility...
"Of course," Johanna says, "they took everything. Except the pain, they were generous enough to leave that. Believe me, there were doctors skeptical about my injuries in Ayre, because I couldn't show them my marks."
"I doubt they have as much cosmetic surgery," Finnick excuses. "Anyway, thank you for bringing me here." He's trying to focus on what he's gained, not what he's lost. "It's amazing. I can see why you wanted someone to share it with."
He's not only talking about the hot pool.
"I'm glad you came."
Neither is she.