She wasn't exactly sure how watching the widow had become her job. Really, Johanna wasn't quite sure how any of this had come together. Annie hadn't been in any state to plan this, and after talking to Finnick's four surviving siblings, it didn't seem like they'd had much of a say in the planning either. The one powerful figure in the Odair family, an aunt who had made Johanna feel like another sibling within twenty minutes, had forced everything together in a feat comparable to forcing planets into orbit.
And it was impressive. How in hell a little barely-five-foot woman had managed to strong-arm the district government into not only allowing but also paying for a ceremony like this was beyond her. Black banners streamed down the side of the Justice Building, and the stairway that led to the entrance was lit by thousands of small, flickering candles. The navy-purple shroud of sky above made the image before her even more haunting.
Johanna slipped her arm through Annie's as they started up the path. Hundreds of people framed both sides of the path, and the plaza was packed as tightly as she had ever seen for the reapings. Finnick could not personally have touched so many lives. No, to the people of District Four, this was one opportunity to publicly mourn all the dead.
She couldn't imagine a comfortable funeral, but this one felt all wrong. Walking through the center aisle of the gathered chairs with a dark-veiled Annie, Johanna could think only of the wedding. You stood with her just before she became a bride; it's only fitting that you stand with her just after she became a widow. And just as before, up at the altar, Finnick, or what little is left of him, waits for them at the altar.
"Are you going to be okay?" she whispered.
"I-I… I don't know." Annie had never been a loud sort, but now, Johanna could hardly hear her. She grabbed the other woman's hand and gave it what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze.
The casket was closed. Realistically, it had to be. The few scraps that they had been able to identify as human would have been too upsetting for the gathered crowd. Still, it would have been nice to see a corpse and say goodbye for the last time to something that at least looked like Finnick. Instead, she'll mouth her farewell to a box that has a bit of Finnick, a few bits of sea glass, and a handful of ultrasound images.
She and Annie sat at the front with the rest of the Odair family through the ceremony. Annie broke down into sobs the moment it started. Johanna tried to comfort her, but a few awkward pats on the back and half-hearted shh through a shaking voice did nothing to calm the woman. After only a moment or two, Finnick's aunt slid a bit closer to Annie on the bench, allowing her to hide her face against her shoulder as she cried.
But that kindness left Johanna with nothing to hold onto. It was selfish, she knew that, but now there was nothing to distract her from the ceremony she didn't want to happen. If she'd been there, if she'd just been able to hold onto that goddamn little piece of her mind for a few minutes longer, if that bitch Coin had let her go along with the others…
It's not mature, it's not healthy, it's selfish as fuck, and she didn't care. But she did. And that was what hurt most.
A/N: The prompt was 'Finnick's funeral'.