Archive of Our Own ^beta

Johanna Mason is seventeen years old when she is Reaped. She does not cry, not like the fifteen-year-old male tribute from her district. (She hears his sobs through the walls at night, sometimes. She ignores them, because what else could she do?)

Johanna Mason is seventeen years old when she becomes the victor of the 71st annual Hunger Games. When the Peacekeepers retrieve her from the arena, they are too afraid to get close to her. She snarls at anyone who gets too close. It doesn’t help that she’s still covered in blood from her last kills.

Johanna Mason is seventeen years old when President Snow approaches her with a proposal wrapped in prostitution and topped with a threat. She refuses him.

Johanna Mason is seventeen years old when her family dies in a fire. The Capitol calls it a ‘terrible accident.’ Johanna knows better.

Johanna Mason is twenty-one years old when she is Reaped, again. She had thought she’d been done with the Games. She was wrong. She doesn’t cry about it, though. If she’s going to die, she’s going to go out in a blaze of fire, and everyone who thinks otherwise be damned.

Johanna Mason is twenty-one years old when she says to a group of Victors, “They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love.” Her voice is filled with a sharp, ringing truth, and the other Victors flinch. She doesn’t. Why should she? It’s true, after all.

Johanna Mason is twenty-one years old when she kisses Katniss Everdeen. It happens right after she’s nailed Katniss in the head with a steel cylinder, and right before she digs into her arm to get the tracker out. Back in District Seven, you’d kiss people on both cheeks as a way of saying goodbye. Johanna thinks it’s bullshit, pure superstition, but she does it to Katniss anyway. If you were to ask Johanna why, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. Good luck, maybe.

Johanna Mason is twenty-one years old when she is taken by the Capitol.

Johanna Mason turns twenty-two years old in a stark white cell that is barren of all but her blood trailing into a drain, three Peacekeepers standing over her holding batons, and President Snow reclining in his usual chair (far away from her blood, of that she is sure.) The Peacekeepers have been harder on her than usual that day, but she only realizes why when Snow throws a casual remark at her on his way out: “Oh, and happy birthday, Johanna.”

It’s his way of taunting her, and by now she is shivering on the floor, cloaked only in a soaked, ragged, dirty hospital gown, but when Snow sneers at her she raises her head and spits.

She watches in satisfaction as a glob of blood and saliva slides down his cheek. Of course, she is beaten more, and shocked, and nearly drowned for it, but Snow’s shock at her defiance, enduring even after all her months of torture, is honestly the best birthday gift that she has ever received.

She doesn’t bother hoping for a well-timed rescue. She knows enough about Coin to know that she won’t dare take such a risk for a pair of fucked-up Victors, no matter how important they might be.

Johanna Mason is twenty-two years old when, bleeding and limp, she is carried out of the Capitol by a group of rebels from District Thirteen. Later, she will look back on her torture and realize that the only things she really missed in those long, long months were warm food, a soft bed, and her hair. She doesn’t think too hard about the fact that she misses the smell of leather and the woods and a smell that could be identified as distinctly Katniss if she tried.

Johanna Mason is twenty-two years old when she starts siphoning morphling from Katniss’s supply. Katniss complains about it, but she lets her anyway. Johanna likes to think they have an understanding, kind of.

Johanna Mason is twenty-two years old when she starts rooming with Katniss. The first time Johanna wakes up shaking and terrified in their new room, Katniss shifts over in her bed and lifts up the covers and doesn’t say anything when Johanna crawls in next to her. Johanna cries into the pillow until Katniss pulls her closer and lets her sob into her shoulder.

Johanna Mason is twenty-two years old when she fails the Simulated Street Combat test and lands herself back in medical. Haymitch brings her a bottle of moonshine from god-knows-where. It tastes terrible and burns worse than the engineered stuff the Gamemakers drink going down, but she takes it anyway. They sit there, on the hard hospital cot, getting drunk and decidedly not talking until one of the orderlies shoos Haymitch out and makes Johanna take something that puts her to sleep.

Johanna Mason is twenty-two years old when Katniss Everdeen kisses her. It’s slow and hot and good—and lasts much shorter than Johanna would like. She makes Katniss promise to kill President Snow. Later, she makes Finnick promise to bring Katniss back alive. She trusts Finnick. She doesn’t trust Katniss not to get herself killed.

Johanna Mason is twenty-two years old when news reaches her that Finnick is dead, that he has died hours ago, torn apart by mutts. (She hears Cresta crying, somewhere in the halls of District 13. Johanna ignores her muffled sobs as she walks slowly back to her own room. What could she do, after all?)

Johanna Mason is twenty-two years old when she watches Katniss shoot Coin dead. She is twenty-two years old when Finnick comes back, only he’s not his usual sunny sugar-cube-crunching self. He comes back an impersonal empty pine box with a name labeled on one end.

Johanna Mason is twenty-two years old when they win.

(Somehow, she’d thought winning would be sweeter.)