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Johanna wakes, her arm somewhat stiff from Enobaria asleep atop it. She finds she doesn't mind it, really. It is reassuring to wake up with Enobaria beside her, to orient herself to where she is, to who she is with immediately, even if she is still in hell. At least this hell didn't involve electrocution and drowning.
Enobaria shifts a bit in her sleep and settles back against Johanna's shoulder. It's such a far cry from the alertness Johanna's come to expect from any Hunger Games Victor, but especially a District 2 Career. Enobaria is all fast-twitch lean muscle, reflexes and sharp teeth, get them before they get you. But Johanna lets her sleep, even if her arm is pins and needles. All of her years of anger at Enobaria have been unwound in the past month, replaced by confusion, guilt, maybe even affection, and she's not yet ready to unpack all of those thoughts yet. Mostly she's just glad she's not completely alone here.
Enobaria always comes to her bed, Johanna wouldn't dare go to Enobaria's. It started the very first night they were moved to this suite on the third floor of the mansion, overlooking the gardens. Enobaria had come to her bed, without a word, and laid down to sleep. And it was irregular, certainly, but not unfamiliar. How many times had Johanna gone to Finnick for the same type of comfort? How many times had Enobaria approached Cashmere with the same loneliness? It was just what Victors did, they both knew the steps.
Now it's been a week, perhaps, and it begins to feel familiar. She knows the weight of Enobaria's head on her shoulder, the feel of Enobaria's arms pulling her close. Enobaria instinctively knows not to touch her neck or her head, and Johanna instinctively knows not to go into Enobaria's bed.
When Enobaria finally wakes, Johanna has to look away. Enobaria is alarmingly beautiful, even just after waking up, and it's like staring at the sun. "Did you sleep well?" Enobaria asks, standing and pulling the drawers open, starting to dress efficiently, like a soldier.
Johanna wants to freeze the moment just after waking, before reality returns that they're still prisoners, just in a prettier cell, but it's over, and she's forced to face the question. She shakes out her arm, returning the blood flow to her fingertips. "I think so," she lies.
Enobaria meets her gaze, as if calling her bluff, but doesn't say anything more. She probably felt the hypnic jerks as Johanna woke gasping for air dozens of times in the night, or the impossibly rigid position she'd have to hold for a few minutes until the spasms of pain would pass. It was wishful thinking in her exhaustion to think Enobaria would forget such a thing in the morning.
They dress and go out to the kitchen area for their usual routine of tea and breakfast, but Enobaria stops cold in the doorway, Johanna almost crashing into her back. Johanna steps to the side to see what has started her and she can feel her blood pressure dropping. Sitting on the small sofa in the sitting room, sipping tea from a set, is Snow, looking almost fatherly.
Johanna searches for the right emotion to feel: anger, fear, murderous intent, but comes up feeling completely numb. She might be sitting down to a meeting to hear her death sentence and she can't even muster the emotion to prepare. After the Quarter Quell, after the rebels left her, after the torture in that prison, she feels so completely emptied out that she walks over and sits in the chair facing Snow without much fear but without much anger either. She mourns the loss of her rebellious spirit, wonders which of the torture sessions killed it, exactly.
"President Snow," she says, addressing him belatedly, her brain finding his title and name on autopilot more than actual thought. Enobaria does the same and sits on the other chair. Johanna sees that she's facing her body away from her, perhaps a last ditch effort to make them seem like they're still enemies, since Snow would probably use any affection between them to his gain.
"Miss Weaver, Miss Mason," he says, looking at them each in turn. His eyes have that same strange glint she always sees on the television, like he's already thinking several steps ahead, like they're late to understanding some important caveat. His lips are blood-red in an inhuman way, but she doesn't smell the strangely sweet smell she usually detects from him, though perhaps it's because of the smell of flowers coming in through the open window from the garden below. "I was surprised the rebels left you behind, but they have always been short sighted. At least we all know where we stand, now."
Johanna doesn't dare speak, but she feels like she's once again drowning. She's never before felt like she understands less about where she stands. In her early days as a Victor, it was clear that she was a plaything in Snow's Capitol ecosystem, and it was kill or be killed, use people as much as they're using you, just like in the Games. Later, after she'd joined the rebels, she was an asset, there to disrupt, to try to end the Games, to build a new Panem. Now though… she is a prisoner, unsure if she is leverage, bait, a source of information, or just an oversight, someone forgotten who has to be dealt with.
"What's going to happen to us?" Enobaria asks.
Snow smiles, as if amused with her curiosity. "You're going to do a job for me," he says. He sips the tea, sighing in satisfaction. There are two more cups on the tray, and he gestures to them. Hesitantly, Enobaria pours tea into each of them from the pot. They are both familiar with the rumors: Snow's affinity for poison, but Johanna doesn't think he'll kill them right now, at least. He's kept them alive for this long, and he's about to give them a job. "As a show of good faith, I've done a job for you first."
He hands Enobaria a folder which she opens, slowly. Johanna leans over to see the photos inside. They were obviously taken with a security camera posted in the corner of a room, black and white shots of surprisingly high quality. She recognizes the men immediately: six of the Peacekeepers from that prison, the men who drugged Peeta, who electrocuted her, who raped Enobaria. The photos show them indulging in a banquet, shoving their faces with food and liquor, patting each other on the backs and grinning, gleefully. A horrible spasm of pain begins behind her eyes and travels all the way to the back of her legs. Rage chokes her throat.
And Enobaria flips through the photos, she sees the development of the night. First there's one man throwing up, then a second. And regular vomit turns bloody, and the men seem to panic as they realize what's happened. They grope and grapple over each other for the exit, but the door is locked. The final picture is all six in a pile, bloody and deceased, clawing at a door that would not open.
Enobaria, at least, looks a little satisfied. "Why would you do this?" she asks. "You asked them to guard the prison, didn't you?"
Snow pauses, and Johanna wonders if he's deciding about answering. Surely, giving his two prisoners more information than necessary wouldn't do him any favors… unless it would. "They couldn't understand the limits of their power," he says simply. "Restraint is just as important as might."
Johanna thinks this might be the smartest thing she's ever heard out of Snow's mouth, and for the first time that morning, begins to feel afraid again. If, all this time, he has shown restraint, that means there is even more terror that he could have shown. "What kind of job?" she asks.
Now he smiles at her, as if pleased she's refocused on the path of the conversation. "You're to go to District 2," he says. "The rebels plan to bomb the Nut, as far as my sources can tell."
At this, Enobaria gasps, but doesn't say anything. They have no context for this, no idea what this means. They've had no television, no newspaper, no radio, no idea if there is an outright war or just rebel activity, nothing to go on outside of the rebel soldiers coming to the prison, taking Peeta and Annie, and leaving.
Snow seems to understand this, and softens a bit. It's disconcerting to see the president in a way that isn't immediately threatening. "The rebels have organized in the vestiges of District 13," he explains. "They are trying to win a war of attrition by inciting conflicts that make things worse for Panem, and then blame it on the Capitol. They have bombed the railroad tracks, preventing food from reaching outer districts, and now they plan this attack on our military to break our spirit. It may, but we also will not forget such violence."
Johanna bites the inside of her cheek, struggling with her thoughts. She doesn't have the necessary information to make a judgement, she realizes. Snow is too quick to dismiss the violence of his own regime, but if what he is saying is true, the rebels might be making the same mistakes. Though her judgement may be clouded by her personal hurt.
"How are we to stop them?" Enobaria asks.
Johanna wonders how this plan is going to end without her dying, really. The two possible scenarios she sees is that the rebels take the bait and Snow reneges on his bargain and she dies, or the rebels reject her again, Snow realizes she isn't valuable as bait, and she dies.
Still, she doesn't really have much of a choice, so she lets the guard, the one who is relatively gentle with her, undo her ankle bracelet and secure a new device, a remotely detonating collar, around her throat. Enobaria gets the same treatment, and then they are loaded onto a hovercraft headed to District 2.
Enobaria sits with her face pressed against the window. It isn't the first time that Johanna comes to the realization that Enobaria is going to her home District, but it's the first time it really sinks in. Johanna wonders if she'll ever see District 7 again, or if she'll even want to. Her family is long dead, Blight is dead, what's the point in going back now?
"Who do you think they'll send?" Johanna asks.
Enobaria turns away from the window, her face backlit by morning light, and she comes to sit beside Johanna. It's just the two of them in the compartment, the two Capitol attaches in the front section - one guard and one woman managing the propos. Enobaria knew her, Johanna learned before they left, and trusted her, which reassured her a bit. She had been Cashmere's talent agent, however, which did give her a bit of reticence, as the one who murdered Cashmere, in the end.
Enobaria shrugs. "Doubt we're important enough to get Miss Mockingjay herself," she says. "Peeta? If he's in his right mind."
Johanna realizes then how much she'd love to see Peeta, to reassure herself that he's alright, that he's not irrevocably fucked up.
"What would you do if it's Haymitch?" Enobaria asks.
Johanna is gagged for a moment, unable to reply. It isn't as if she hasn't imagined this scenario. She has, dozens of times, in fact: while falling asleep, while daydreaming, even while watching Enobaria stare out the window just a few minutes ago. The problem is that the imagined scenario never had a satisfactory conclusion. In truth, she has no idea what she would do if she came face to face with Haymitch in District 2.
The ride isn't long, and in just a few hours they touch down in District 2. It's hot, sweltering even, though the air is damp with a recent rainstorm. The ground is red dust, and there are barely any trees. It's all wide open sky, so different from District 7. There are, however, large rock quarries and several tall mountains, one that is immediately identifiable as the home base of the Nut, the mountain itself and the range around it forming a sort of mantle around the city, which nested in its embrace. They stand on the opposite crest, on the outskirts of an abandoned quarry, and look down at the main city of District 2. It is much larger than District 7, with huge, towering apartment buildings, administrative buildings with intricate stonework, and the whole thing laid out in a grid of military precision.
But there are cracks, also. There is evidence of fires, burnt out husks of buildings, bulletholes scattered across walls. There are bloody patches in the streets, though Johanna has no idea what conflicts have caused this, no idea if this is how it always is, or if this is new. Enobaria looks tempted to run down the cleft, into the city.
The woman with the camera, Calpurnia, seems to catch onto this. "Do you still have family here?" she asks.
Enobaria shrugs. "Last I checked. My mom. My brother and sister-in-law and their two daughters. My sister." Enobaria turns away to again look down at the houses, but she continues. "My brother works in the quarry, my sister works in the Nut. I can't… I can't see this ending where they're both alive."
Johanna doesn't have anything comforting to say to this. From what she can tell of the situation, Enobaria is right, and Enobaria has always been more clever than she was, loathe as she was to admit it.
"Well, here we go," Calpurnia says, tuning a handheld radio. Beside them, the guard stands masked and silent, his automatic rifle hanging from a strap across his chest. "Come in, District 13 rebel force," Calpurnia says into the radio. "This is a transmission from Capitol forces and a request for a meeting on neutral territory in District 2. Over."
There's nothing, static, maybe a murmuring, for seconds, then minutes. Calpurnia adjusts the antenna then repeats the message. Johanna stands on what feels like the edge of the world with Enobaria. "Please state your terms. Over." A staticky voice comes through the radio, surprising her. She can't place it, but it sounds almost familiar.
Calpurnia lists the location, the time, and the limit of one guard. "I am offering the lives of Enobaria Weaver and Johanna Mason," she says.
Johanna licks her lips which have quickly gone dry in the desert. As far as Capitolites go, she doesn't mind Calpurnia, really. She's smart, not ditzy, for one thing, and her style is understated, with simple makeup and a straight blonde bob. But mostly, she doesn't use any bullshit. And yet, at this moment, it's not so reassuring. She almost would prefer a liar to tell her that there is a chance she could get out of this with her life, since she's just come to realize she values it again.
They retreat back into the hovercraft to wait as the sun rises to high noon overhead. Johanna isn't really hungry - how can she feel hungry when the air is over 100 degrees? - but she eats a bit of the food that they have packed, because the last thing she wants is to feel weak when they encounter the rebels. And then it's time to wait. Enobaria is sitting by the window, keeping her vigil, and Johanna goes to sit next to her, but eventually sleep overtakes her - it's too hot in District 2, and there's nothing to do, no television, no books, no music. She drifts off against Enobaria's arm, and wakes with Enobaria shaking her a bit. "It's showtime," she says. Johanna realizes her hand is clutching Enobaria's shirt, and belatedly she releases it.
It isn't Katniss waiting for them, or Haymitch, but Finnick, and Johanna thinks that maybe that's worse. Still, she can't stop the palpable relief she feels at seeing him safe and alive, and she can't help but stow away the memory of him looking her over, the way he takes in her new appearance with care and concern.
She tells the guard to be ease - it's only Finnick, after all - and walks forward, Enobaria a half-step behind. She sees Finnick do the same with his soldier. She sees his camera-person has a gun, a loophole to their one-guard provision, but nothing to harp on at this moment. He reaches for her the moment they're close enough, pulling her into a hug that pulls her off her feet. It hurts, the way any unexpected contact does, but it's more: Finnick left her, Finnick chose Annie, again and again, and now he's found her too late, pushing at the spots where those Peacekeepers tortured. And still, she hugs back. She's nothing if not tenacious, trying and trying again to find the happiness that is constantly out of grasp.
"Jo, you're alive!" he says, setting her back down. He sounds choked with emotion, but she can't see him anymore. She needs to close her eyes, to settle out the pain as it runs its course, spasming for a few seconds before setting to its usual hum behind her eyes. Enobaria puts a hand on her lower back, orienting her, and she's grateful for it, afraid that she might topple over in a sort of vertigo.
"Finnick," she manages, hoping to convey how unprepared she is to be face to face with him again.
"Enobaria," he acknowleges, and his tone is strange. Finnick's always been on good enough terms with Enobaria, at least better than Johanna had been before they were captured. She's not sure if he's confused about Enobaria being at this meeting, or about her hand on Johanna, so Johanna dares a peek. He's certainly staring at them as a pair, and she wants to shout at him: 'you left us alone together, your soldiers took Annie and left us behind!'
But she gets down to business, because the truth is Finnick has Annie and she has a collar around her neck that can blow her head off if she doesn't do her job to Snow's liking. "You need to tell the rebels not to blow up the Nut," she says.
Finnick bites his lip. Johanna watches his face go through a series of expressions, from ponderous to inquiring to downcast, and she realizes that this is Finnick, master of manipulations in the Capitol. They sent him with the hope that he could sweet talk his way out of whatever was needed, that he could butter up whoever the Capitol sent to negotiate the price of her life. He just wasn't prepared for them to send her directly. "How do you know that?" he asks.
"Doesn't matter. It's the plan, isn't it?" Enobaria asks. Johanna is settled now and Enobaria takes her hand away and steps forward to face Finnick. She's nearly as tall as he is, and right now, all the momentum is with her.
Finnick nods. He keeps glancing to Johanna, to her short hair, to her starved form. She knows what he is thinking, the questions he wants to ask. But now is not the time. She defers to Enobaria's lead.
"These collars can detonate and kill us instantly," Enobaria says. "Snow has hundreds more waiting. Children. Elderly. Back off from the Nut or we're all going to die."
Johanna keeps her face entirely neutral as Enobaria makes up this lie seemingly on the spot. And the lie works perfectly. Finnick was always soft on casualties, and she sees worry lines on his forehead. "I-" he falters.
Johanna steps forward, to try for the killing blow. "I'll come with you, Fin, he said I can go." She isn't acting at all with her next ask, her plea genuine even though she knows she's asking for something Finnick almost definitely can't deliver: "Finnick, please don't leave me behind again."
And Finnick nods, unable to hold even a facade of the sweet-talking, master manipulator persona up in front of them. "Yeah, let me… let me make a call."
He backs up a step, then two, reaching for a phone in his pocket when the bomb detonates and the mountain seems to implode. It doesn't fall - that's the strange part - it just seems like a powderkeg that serves as a death trap, an inside job. There were even rebels inside the Peacekeepers, she realizes.
Johanna has that thought in the two-second pause as they all watch the explosion from up on the ridge, and then Enobaria tackles her to the ground with force to avoid the shock wave. It hurts, horribly, but could have hurt worse, and she realizes belatedly that Enobaria's hand is across her face, keeping it from hitting the dirt. They lay there as the dirt and dust and force of the blast passes over them, an ominous heat that signals death of hundreds and a failure of their task. As soon as Enobaria's weight shifts off of her, Johanna is clawing at the collar around her neck. "Help me!" she yells, like a mad woman, at Finnick, at no one, trying to escape a death sentence. "It's too late, now help me!"
And Finnick looks at her in fear, or maybe in pity, most likely it's in horror at the grotesque thing she's become, begging for her life before him. Whatever the look is, it isn't love or affection, and the clawing stops. Maybe she should let herself get blown up with some dignity, at least. "Jo, come with me," he says, coughing on the warm, silty air as he brushes off the arm tug of the guard.
Enobaria is still there, beside Johanna, looking with empty eyes at the death trap that is the Nut. Without even thinking about it, Johanna slips her hand into Enobaria's. She can't think of a reply to Finnick.
"Jo! You're not going back there, to Snow, are you?"
She doubts she'll make it back. Doubts she'll even make it to the hovercraft before her head is blown off, but she can't go with Finnick. The rebels just blew up an entire mountain of people without even listening to negotiations. She sees the ring shining on his finger, and supposes it's true on both sides: some people get to win and some people always lose. She walks away.