CHAPTER 18: Grateful
Gale trailed his fingers along the subtly textured walls of the train's hallway. They were patterned with little leaves and flowers, though they felt woven to the touch. It didn't matter much. Even as he stopped and pressed his forehead against the faux foliage, trying to will his mind to believe the illusion that it was nature, it didn't help him to feel less claustrophobic, less motion sick.
The attendants insisted that he couldn't feel the movement, and maybe they were right. Either way, he had spent his first day on the train green, and hadn't fared much better after the initial nausea. Once his stomach troubles had passed, he became acutely aware of just how small the train was - or at least the part of it that they were allowed to wander: three sleeping cars - one for him and Madge and Maysilee, one for Finn, Annie, and Johanna, and one for Gentry and Caridee - as well as a dining car and a bar car.
No windows were to be opened, no fresh air to be circulated. Period.
He had wandered the hallways through and between these cars each night, growing edgier and edgier as sleep became more elusive with each passing day. Tonight, he had even snapped at Maysilee at dinner for refusing to eat the last of her sweet potatoes. He couldn't stand the idea of wasting food, even though he and Madge were well off enough that it didn't matter. Nonetheless, he hadn't intended to snap at her. She'd cried, and then he had felt like the world's worst father - as if his trouble communicating with her didn't make him feel that way already.
He'd come back and apologized, and she'd shared her dessert with him - a decadent chocolate cake with a molten center.
"Thanks for being nice to your dad, even though he's a jerk," he'd said to her as he wiped a bit of chocolate off her face as gently as he could.
"Mommy says you're not a jerk, you're just acting like a jerk," Maysilee had informed him in return, brandishing her spoon thoughtfully, unknowingly imitating her mother's own thoughtful pose.
After they had put Maysilee to bed, he and Madge had talked as much as they ever did.
"You think I'm a jerk huh?" he had started, as they pulled back to covers to go to sleep.
"I think you're acting like a jerk," Madge had corrected him with that same thoughtful look on her face. It was disconcerting sometimes, that Maysilee could look so much like him but that her motions, words and actions could echo Madge's with such astounding accuracy. He shook his head.
"Well thanks," he had said, intending to sound tough, or sarcastic, but instead just sounding pathetic and deflated. He had then sat on the bed, facing away from her, ready for that to be the end of it. Madge, ever better than he was at dealing with the problems between them, had taken his hands and looked into his eyes.
"I think you're on edge about seeing Katniss again, and I think that's okay."
Rather than answering her, because she was right - she was always right, in fact - he had kissed her, coaxed her, seduced her, and they had made love - on the bed, against the walls, on the floor, in the shower, for almost an hour. He felt bad for using sex with her as a way not to talk about things - about Katniss, but he just couldn't explain to her... everything that Katniss was to him, and everything she wasn't, partially because he didn't know himself.
After Madge had drifted off, he'd stroked her hair, kissed her cheek, and gotten up to wander the halls of the train. The previous nights, he had waited for nightmares to awaken him, and then wandered; but tonight, it seemed it would take more energy to do that than not to sleep at all.
He checked in on Maysilee, and even peeked into Gentry and Caridee's and Annie and Johanna's car. He was hoping that someone might be awake. Johanna wasn't in her bed, but she also wasn't in their car at all.
He just wanted to stop thinking about Katniss, but he couldn't. Being on this train, which may have been the exact train - or similar enough to pass - that took her to the games made him thoughtful, regretful even.
His 4-day journey from District 2 to District 12 as a man with his family and friends to attend his own wedding had been destructive enough to his psyche. He couldn't imagine this journey alone as a child, with the destination being the arena and his own death.
A shiver of guilt ran through him as he thought of how hard he had been on Katniss, how unwilling to listen to her about her experiences. He had thought it was as simple as pretending to love Peeta or really loving him to win. Being on the train now, he could relate to how a companion might make a difference in such a disorienting and claustrophobic place.
It didn't seem fair, the expectation that he had held Katniss too - to know everything so certainly when nothing in her life was in her own control at all. Perhaps he would tell her he was sorry when he saw her, unless he found himself tongue-tied, like when he tried to talk to Madge about it.
After all, he couldn't just have sex with Katniss to keep from talking about things. The thought pulled him up short. He couldn't have sex with Katniss for any reason. Ever. He tried to figure out if this was something that he had even wanted - sex with Katniss.
The sounds of a commotion brought Gale to his attention. He trained his ear to the sound. It was coming from the bar car. It could be an attendant, cleaning up, but it seemed late for that. He had a hunch as to who it might be - the only other one out of bed according to his earlier census.
Gale was surprised and not surprised to find Johanna behind the bar in the train. She might have called an attendant, but she had simply gone behind the bar and found what she wanted. Gale wondered if she ever looked fully rested.
"Make me a drink, barkeep?"
Johanna narrowed her eyes in the darkness. She was still sober, but held a very old, fancy bottle in her fist. She brushed a pile of little wax pieces from the bottle onto the floor. She pulled out two crystal glasses and filled them up with the liquor. She took a large draw out of hers, before sliding Gale's to him. She pulled a dark green robe closer around herself before offering him a half-hearted smirk,
"Getting cold feet, Gale Force?"
That idea had been so far from Gale's mind it took him a moment to register what it meant.
"About Madge? No. We're, you know, we've got Maysilee." He took a sip of the alcohol; it was incredibly strong, but smooth.
Johanna's barking laugh echoed through the empty bar. "Don't really have a choice, do ya? Gotta make an honest woman of your girl."
Gale gave Johanna his best glare. It had never worked on her, but it was worth a try. He didn't like the idea of Johanna, or anyone for that matter questioning his feelings for Madge. Whatever else might be true, he loved her. He'd said as much, and made a point of never saying things that he didn't mean. "Yeah? What about you? Don't tell me you and Mrs. Odair sleep separately?" He needled with no venom in his voice.
"We don't, for your information. And she is a fantastic kisser," she growled good naturedly, dismissing Gale's fear that she had made an accusation, rather than a conversation starter. She took another swig from her glass, this time grimacing at the taste. They sat in silence that was probably comfortable to her, but just made Gale squirm. He didn't want to talk about Katniss, but he wanted to talk.
"How did all of that happen, anyway?"
Johanna let out a big sigh and stared him down. "We gotta talk about this now, huh?"
"I don't care," Gale mumbled, climbing up onto a barstool and dropping her gaze. "I just have no idea how you and Annie Odair of all people fell in love. Sounds like a nice bedtime story."
Johanna snorted and swished the alcohol around in her glass. "You remember I didn't get to go to the Capitol."
Gale raised his eyebrows. Something about her tone made him feel more, rather than less uneasy. He tried to keep it light though, "Why don't we start further back, like, in the dark days?"
"Shut up Hawthorne, you're the one that asked," she said weakly, then a mischievous gleam lit her eyes, "Unless you want to talk about what's actually bothering you, like, seeing you-know-who again," she sing-songed.
Gale raised his hands in surrender, "Please, continue. Tell me the whole story of Johanna and Annie."
Johanna looked him up and down, and as she weighed something out in her mind, Gale couldn't help but notice that all the sound seemed to disappear from the air - as if sucked away by some force. The gentle tingles of the glasses as they brushed together with the movement of the train, the almost inaudible sounds of the engine and travel, and even his own breathing stopped creating sound. This was what the air felt like before a snare was sprung, or before Katniss let an arrow fly. Tense. Charged.
Johanna seemed to come to a decision. She took a deep breath, "Finnick came to me before he left." Her voice seemed to leave her. She sighed deeply and wandered to the other side of the bar. Gale wondered if talking about Finnick was as hard for her as it was for him to talk about Katniss. They too, seemed to have an ambiguous closeness. Maybe this was exactly the wrong thing to ask about when he was having doubts about Katniss.
Johanna grumbled for him to join her at a table. "I have to start further back or it doesn't make sense."
Gale, who was not used to such gravitas from Johanna, sat across from her at a square table, with his cup, waiting. The train's quiet whirring noises resumed as it careened forward. The one lamp in the room cast long shadows over the empty tables.
Gale waited. He had learned to wait for Johanna to speak, rather than lead her with questions. She, like most of the Victors he'd known or seen seemed to have trouble with organizing her own thoughts sometimes. Many silent hours had passed between the two of them during the "Clean Up" tour. On a squad with rebels from all kinds of districts, talk was never sparse during dinner. Years of forced isolation between Districts made it interesting to share words, traditions and stories between them. People were baffled and elated by district unity.
Perhaps they wouldn't have grown close at all if they hadn't both volunteered for third watch. At the time, Gale and Johanna still both had trouble sleeping at night. In the wee hours of the morning, they'd had many interesting conversations, trading sarcastic comments, stories and jokes. None of them terribly personal, mostly philosophical, about the nature of evil, the future of Panem, their squad mates and the oddities of each District. Sometimes, they were quiet for hours at a time, watching the stars, playing cards or just keeping meditative watch over their sleeping comrades.
This quiet was different. He noticed that her brow was still furrowed and took another small sip from his cup. He waited for her to collect her thoughts as the train continued to hurtle toward District Twelve, toward Katniss and Peeta and his wedding.
Johanna suddenly sucked in a chestful of air, and then began quickly, "Finnick was my first. It was not like you would think sex should be the first time. We had sex in front of a crowd of Gamemakers, politicos and wealthy assholes. They paid Snow handsomely for the privilege. He paid us by not killing our friends."
All of this, or course, completely blind-sided Gale. It was not like we would think of at all, was completely unfathomable to him. He thought briefly of his first time with Madge, the ataraxia that came from feeling like they were the only two in the universe, folding slowly into one another. This memory was swept aside by Johanna, who barreled on, seeming determined not to look at him, or pause, or even breathe, as if any of these things might make it impossible to continue her story.
"Finnick was sweet. Slow. If it hadn't been against our will and in front of them, it might have been fine. During I could keep my eyes closed, keep them shut out to some extent, but it was the afterward that was the worst. You would think that they would have left, but no one did. You know how they are. Wanted to see us while we were the most vulnerable. Finnick held me while I cried and cried like I'd lost it," she laughed bitterly at that, "And they watched. Just watched. Watched us until I was cried out, until I passed out in complete hysterics. When I woke up, they were gone, but Finnick wasn't. He had gotten us both dressed, tucked me in."
Gale tried to reconcile Johanna's account with any feeling he had ever experienced before. The closest one who could conjure was the way he felt being whipped - naked, helpless, and overcome by suffering. He tried to find words, anything to say to Johanna that told her that he understood, but he couldn't, because he didn't.
"In the morning, Finnick explained the rest. What would happen next. He was my..." she struggled, her long fingers tightened around the little crystal glass. "Initiation," she said slowly, disgusted by the word. "I was lucky. Finnick's was Cashmere." Gale could tell there was probably a story there too, but he did not interrupt, "He said we might get to sleep together again, but mostly it would be the people from the crowd. Strangers. I knew, I knew," she grated out, "That they would hurt them- my... that's they'd-" she stopped for a moment, schooled her features and hardened her voice, "But I was so fucking stupid. Next time, when I went to the Capitol, I turned down five dates. Closed the door in their ugly Capitol faces. I took the rest. Seven." She closed her eyes and seethed, "Five men and two women. One woman and some of them men just wanted to show me off, took me to dinner, one of them took me dancing. The others, the woman, the men." Johanna said this bitterly, and Gale realized that perhaps Johanna had always preferred women, even before the gentle embrace of Annie Odair. "I thought that would be enough. Enough to keep my parents safe, and my grandfather. My best friends from school."
Gale understood suddenly, something that he'd seen during the Quarter Quell. After the jabberjays had tortured Katniss and Finnick with the screaming voices of their loved ones, Johanna had said, "They can't hurt me. There's no one left I love." These words rang in his ears as Johanna finally brought her eyes to meet his, tears threatening to spill over at any moment, and she uttered in a voice so completely broken Gale could hardly believe that the words belonged to Johanna, "my little brother," she choked out. She stopped here, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. He thought instantly about what he would do to protect Rory, Vick and Posy, what lengths he would go to in order to keep them safe.
"My village," she continued quietly, "my entire village," she repeated, "Everyone there was so strong," she said this in a hushed, reverent voice that Gale had never heard her use, there was something in her tone he couldn't quite place, "Lumberjacks. Men and women who could climb to the top of an eighty foot tall tree with just a leather belt and fell that same tree with a few swoops. Crews of people and horses, knocking down and planting trees. Sending them down the river to town, log rolling. So strong." Gale realized that there was only one way to explain how Johanna described her people, admiration. He imagined trying to explain mining to someone who had never been into the filthy blackness under the earth how incredibly strong miners were.
Johanna directed her gaze toward the glow of the lamp, and it reflected in her dark, earthy eyes, which had gone dead as she continued in a hushed, monotone voice. "It was... a very dry year. The fire started at my teacher's house. I don't think it was meant to go very far. But those assholes probably didn't bother to look at conditions. Lumber and pine needles, everything held together with pitch... none of them got out alive. The whole thing went up. It was all gone when I got back. They were all gone," Johanna took a sharp breath and said the next part a bit too quickly, as though trying to put space between the loss of her village and her reality, "I moved to the city and lived a shitty, shitty life. I mentored, showed up for all of the Victory Tour nonsense, but only to be with the other Victors. Only to be with Finnick and the others, planning the rebellion. Finnick and a lot of the others had to keep doing it, fucking the Capitol, but they couldn't make me anymore." There was no pride in her voice when she said this, only emptiness.
A thought struck Gale, "So all of the Victors...?"
"The pretty ones got the worst. But it seemed like someone wanted the newest victor each time, no matter what they looked like. They call it winning the Games in the Capitol. Everywhere else it's surviving. Ever notice that? It's not a prize you want to win." Her eyes seemed to go somewhere very distant. "You've killed children. When it happens you're the same age, but every year you get older and the children you killed stay the same age. You can never really go back to your District. They've seen what you can do. They never really trust you again. And your body? Even if they only whore you out a few times, or even if you don't actually have to have sex, well, it's like killing someone, you don't forget that someone bought you. That you are just a Victor. Just different type of district slave. And at the point where you're a murderer and a prostitute, well, you had better learn to be friends with the other murderous prostitutes."
Gale didn't hear what she said next, he was thinking furiously about Katniss and Peeta, about what might have happened to Katniss had she not saved Peeta. That no matter what happened, people would have wanted her. When he came back to, Johanna was silent, watching him,
"Too much for you?"
Gale shook his head mutely.
"I know what you're thinking. You bet your ass Katniss would have done it. To save you and her sister and that dirt pit of a district."
Johanna was off the mark by just a little. Gale didn't even have time to be mad about the insult. He knew Katniss would have done it. In an instant. It was that Gale had always wondered if Peeta hadn't come back, if Katniss had been the lone Victor, if they could have been together. He knew now that Katniss's fate had been sealed from the moment Prim's name had been drawn. Whether she lived or died, she never would have been his, not completely.
For this first time ever, Gale found himself truly grateful that Peeta Mellark had survived the Hunger Games. In the alternate web of reality spun by his mind, Peeta was the only man that Katniss would have ever had to do it with - in the Capitol or otherwise - and he would have never, ever hurt her, or been cruel to her. He would have done his best to protect her, the way Finnick had done with Johanna.
Peeta would have been her salvation - was her salvation, even without the alternate reality where she had to whore herself out the Capitol to save her family - something he had accused her of doing on more than one occasion. If only he'd known how wrong he was. All they'd wanted her to do in the Capitol was get married. Although, thanks to Johanna's little bedtime story, he was beginning to get a feeling that their wedding night would have been a very expensive... what had she called it? Initiation.
If she had killed Peeta, it would have been like Johanna said. Katniss would have never really come back to the District. She would have been lost in the games, and returned a hollow shell of the girl from the Seam with whom he'd hunted, getting worse with each passing Games and each 'session' with some sick bastard from the Capitol.
He found himself suddenly very excited to shake Peeta's hand. He realized he had been staring out the window, considering only his own thoughts. Johanna's story wasn't over. He forced himself to wrench his thoughts from Katniss and Peeta, and to look at Johanna once more. He found her face, patient, and nodded for her to continue.
"When Annie won the Games, I don't know if Finnick was happy that she lived or terrified that he wouldn't be able to keep her safe from all of the Victory. She hadn't killed anyone, you maybe remember - she was still sort of... 'pure' I guess, or at least as pure as you could be under those circumstances." Johanna suddenly became obsessed with a tiny flaw in the crystal, a tiny chip that made the surface of the glass uneven. She began to pick at it; eyes focused on it as she continued. Gale tried to imagine how this story could get any worse, but didn't have to for long.
"Finnick made a deal with Snow so that Annie wouldn't have to go to the Capitol and sleep with his stupid patrons. He took on extras, made more appearances. Made it look like he enjoyed it, made it public, increased interest. He did everything he could to protect her. And somewhere in there, they fell in love. I wasn't really close to her during that time, just him, and he wouldn't breathe a word about her in front of anyone. He was convinced that she was reaped initially to punish him because they were friends back in District 4. Further discussion of his feelings for her would only result in more danger for her."
Gale tried to reconcile this idea with the Finnick that he knew, first damaged, and then so loving, so tied to Annie that he barely ever let go of her hand. Finnick had always been closer to Katniss and Peeta than to him, and he had honestly resented their closeness. He had always felt that Finnick was sort of "on Peeta's side," as silly as that sounded. Now, he just felt juvenile for ever resenting someone so willing to sacrifice himself so completely.
Briefly, he tried to remember what it had felt like in 13 to be jealous of Peeta and Katniss, to prepare himself for what it might be to see them again, but his thoughts were hijacked by Johanna and Annie and Finnick, and the twisted tastes of the Capitol, whose entitlement to luxury apparently knew no bounds.
"Finnick was so good at it, always such a good actor, but it killed him inside. Wrecked him. He was so scared that something would happen to Annie. I was more worried something would happen to him than her. Some of those Capitol assholes have sick tastes. He'd come back with bruises, weird marks from creepy tools. Things got worse, maybe the word spread that he was into that shit, but it started happening a lot more. One night, while we were in the Capitol for the 73rd games, I got called up to the hospital. He came back from one of his regulars who had... especially peculiar tastes," she spat. "His back looked like..." she swallowed, hard, and Gale felt his stomach turn. "This guy... got these sheets made of spun glass, and there were thousands of these tiny, razor sharp threads cutting into him, all over his face, his body. He almost bled out. It took hours of surgery to pull these things out. When I finally got in to see him, he was terrified, delirious with pain killers. He thought he was going to die. He made me promise that if anything happened to him, I would take care of Annie and Mags," She sighed, as if in defeat and stared out the window at the darkness. "I promised."
Gale felt a cold sweat break out on his own back. Acutely, he could feel the countless scars from when he own back was in shreds seem to tighten around his ribs. He tried to remember what he had been feeling in his own haze of pain killers, pain, and near death. He had thought of... Madge. In his haze, he had kissed Katniss, and been aware that Peeta was there, but he suddenly remembered, from the edge of consciousness that Madge had come; through the storm to bring him her mother's Morphling. Madge.
"You know all about the Quell and what happened right after. You know that the Capitol finally had the chance to hurt me like they'd wanted to." She stopped for a moment, and swallowed down the rest of her alcohol. Gale realized that he had been clutching his glass, rather than drinking from it as he listened to her story. He wanted to lean back from her, not to hear the next part of what she had to say, because he knew what would happen next. Finnick would die, leaving his wife and child. Gale wanted to say something, to interrupt even, but he only reached out and covered her hand with his.
"When I was back in the hospital, Finnick came to see me. He asked me the same thing he asked before, would I take care of Annie if he died, and I said 'yes, of course, of course I'll be there for Annie, just while you're gone though, you asshat, because you're coming back.'"
"But he didn't." Gale couldn't help it. Now having a child himself, he couldn't imagine all of the things Finnick had already missed, and would continue to miss for the rest of his son's life. First steps, first words, first birthday... He closed his eyes and his daughter's bright, smiling face filled his mind. He breathed her in silently, grateful that he had made it to District 2 to find her, and that Madge had consented to let him be a part of their lives, even though he had acted so stupidly about things with Katniss and the Quell.
"Annie knew he wasn't dead the first time they announced you all had blown up. But she also knew he was gone before anyone had any idea what had happened. She lost it completely. She was catatonic. She wouldn't eat or drink or talk. It was like she was completely empty. Just a little seashell. I did everything I could, paid an old midwife in District Four; I made her take Annie to the ocean every day. But she didn't get better. She took care of her and the baby while I was off on the Clean-Ups. When I came back, she was still completely hollow. But I got us a little place and stayed with her in Four. I hated water so much, you remember, but I knew if Annie needed anything she needed the ocean. So I took her there every day. She didn't get better until Finn was born. I was there the day he was born. I was with Annie when she finally woke up. Maybe it was the pain or the reality of him, I don't know. But she started to come back."
"We raised Little Finn together. I helped Annie stay awake and alive and Annie helped me be okay with water again - and... Okay with myself, I don't know. We both really missed Finnick. There were so many times when Annie was locked in her mind and I was alone with Little Finn that I wanted to give up, go back to Seven and just live in the forest. But I loved them and I promised Finnick. And we helped each other. After a while, we were a family." A small smile crept onto her face. "I knew I had feelings for Annie, but I never thought that she'd feel that way for me, I'm vicious, I'm a Victor, I'm kind of a bitch, and you know, a woman besides. I'm not ashamed of any of that. But Annie, she's intuitive, so one day we were just doing the dishes, and she turned to me, like I had startled her and said, 'Jo, we're in love!' and dropped the plate she was working on and just kissed me." She laughed, perhaps only to cover up a small hitch in her voice.
"She's the most amazing person I've ever met. She just loves so freely. I promised Finnick I would take care of her, and this is the best way to do it. I'm going to love her and take care of her and their baby... our baby... until I'm the oldest, bitchest, creakiest woman in the world."
She met Gale's eyes for the first time since she began her story. "And that, Gale Force, is being married. I'm good to be a witness at your wedding, but as far as I'm concerned, you're already married. I'm already married. Annie can stay married to Finnick."
Gale was without words. Johanna had summed up in such succinct words what he felt for Madge and Maysilee. Though he had never felt afraid of the wedding, never felt like it was the wrong thing to do since they decided to do it; he felt that it was the right thing to do. He had always believed that being married was just a piece of paper, a silly formality. Now, it seemed like something that should be celebrated.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Johanna shook herself, returning from the many places the story had taken her. She and rolled her eyes, "well, don't get all sentimental, Gale Force, save some of those emotions for the big day. And get some sleep," she took the glass from his hand and put both in the sink unceremoniously, and then with a sarcastic little salute, then she was gone.
He sat there for a moment, his thoughts still swirling around her story. After hearing all of that, seeing Katniss again seemed like a small feat, even gift to be able to see and speak with someone who'd grown up where he had grown up, known the same people, played the same childhood games. Finnick's incredible sacrifice, Johanna's unspeakable losses, and the real truth about the many futures he had imagined with and for Katniss all whirled around him, leaving his heart threadbare.
Gale realized that though Johanna's "bedtime story," was not what he had wanted or expected, it had done its job of making him want to go back to bed. It also seemed to have sparked something different, a feeling he wasn't sure he'd had before. The strange emotion seemed to envelop him as he stretched out and searched for the switch to fully darken the car. He wondered about it as he wandered back through the hallways, as he stroked his daughter's raven hair, brushed his hand over her pink little cheek. Then still, as he climbed into bed, as Madge reflexively entangled herself in him, so warm, so soft. It hit him just as he was drifting to sleep that the feeling was gratefulness.