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The War Is Over And We Are Beginning

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She catches her eye across the room and for a moment holds it. Then she glares at her and she in turn bares her teeth.

They are different, having been filed again so that they are no longer a weapon but Johanna remembers that that hadn't stopped her the first time.

The others in the rehabilitation centre roll their eyes and then distract Johanna so that a fight doesn't break out. As a doctor comes over to ask her to follow him for her daily check-up, she peeks a glance back. She is running her finger over her teeth, apparently adjusting to the feel of the blunt edges. They have removed her trade mark, taking away her prestige as a victor of the Games with it.

Well, Johanna thinks, sacrifices are made.

She avoids the thought that she thinks she looks better for it. Thoughts like that are for people who aren't damaged the way she is. People who can afford to feel.


She stares at her mouth causing Enobaria to narrow her eyes in defence.


Johanna touches her lips (which part in surprise) and then runs her finger over her front bottom teeth before withdrawing her hand.

"You're not special anymore."

Something, fear or hurt, flashes in her eyes before anger settles across her features.

"Fuck you," she snarls. "Touch me again and I will make sure it's the last thing you ever do."

She storms away and Johanna shrugs.

Let her try.


"You really need a bath," she comments wrinkling her nose in disgust. Johanna glowers up at her from her bed hating the smirk on her face. Enobaria misses the book that she throws at her head (the nearest thing she has to a weapon here in rehab) and Johanna seethes as she hears her laughing as she walks away.

She only wishes she had an axe to bury it in her chest.


She likes the burn of the whiskey down her throat and gulps down another in a way she is sure Haymitch would be proud of. She snorts at that, he has been cutting back since the rebellion but they all know he carries a flask with him at all times. But it seems like Effie Trinket is monitoring his intake tonight as he isn't being served any more at the bar. All done just in case he ruins the celebratory one year post-rebellion party the government is hosting.

"So, you do wash after all."

She glares at the woman who appears by her side. Before she can come up with a reply (the whiskey slowing her down) she stills as Enobaria reaches out and winds a small lock of hair around her finger. She has been letting it grow though it seems to be a painfully slow process, but at least it's no longer in patches.

She tugs slightly, pain shoots at her scalp, before letting go.

"You look much better."

Johanna stares after her till she disappears and then she goes to the bar, slamming her glass down and orders another drink just to drown her out.


"Do you want it?"

"Yes," she replies through gritted teeth.

"How much?"

"Enough to want it from you."

She laughs mirthlessly then shoves her back hard against the wall. She covers Johanna's gasp of pain with her mouth and no more questions are asked.

They are not kind, they do not want to be kind. That is why they are doing this after all, just to feel something real which always comes from a small bit of pain that drives them.

Fingers are rough, thrusting in and out, mouths are bruising and when she runs her tongue over her teeth (those teeth!) she wants to feel her bite.

They fuck each other fast and hard, destroying everything around the temporary Capitol suite they are staying it until they can go back to their Districts. When Enobaria knocks over a vase they grin as the shards of glass scatter across the floor, delighting in the wreck.

Lying admits the ruins, Johanna laughs suddenly, the sound breathless and for once genuine. Enobaria glances at her before smirking back.

They don't pity the Capitol people that have to clean up after them. That's half the fun right there.


The water is running in the shower and she is blocking the door with her body. She tries to act nonchalant but the combination of the closed door and the patter of the water begins to make her panic.

"Go on," she says, a direct challenge and Johanna's eyes flicker to the door. She makes a desperate attempt to try and knock her out of the way but Enobaria drags her away, holding her tightly despite Johanna clawing at her arms.

It's too much and suddenly she's back in her cell, back in the water and the hands that hold her as her body jerks each time they surge an electric shock into her…

She screams and screams but no one comes to help and then she's under the shower and she lashes out. Enobaria holds her there, struggling somewhat as she fights her. She has managed to scratch her face enough to draw blood and she even bites her arm but still Enobaria doesn't let go. Crouched by her in the shower she holds her and slowly Johanna's body goes limp and her breathing is hard and ragged.

"You have to fight this," Enobaria tells her, her tone almost gentle as she touches Johanna's face. "If you don't face this then you will always be their slave, do you understand?"

Johanna's eyes are wide and she stares at the bloody lip she caused and shudders when she begins to realise that she's quite safe.

She doesn't leave as she showers, only when she steps out wrapping a towel around her does she get up from where she's perched on the large sink and goes to examine her wounds. Johanna doesn't apologise and they don't talk about it.

There's no point.


"What did they do to you?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Beatings, cutting, bit of water torture."

Her voice is empty and her eyes glaze over as she recalls those memories. Then she snaps back and gives her a brittle smile.

"Not that bad."

But Johanna has seen the scars that disagree.


They don't like each other. Not really. Hell, they would kill probably each other given a chance. But sometimes, just sometimes, when they are together, it is a little easier to bear. It seems as if everyone has found someone to survive with and they understand each other – at least in some ways. It's not much, what they have, but it keeps them alive and that's enough.