The first time Johanna had a breakdown in 13, she crawled up into a little corner of the complex to be alone. She knew someone would find her. She was hoping it would be Katniss, or maybe Finnick, but they both had their own problems. Well, Katniss had problems. Finnick had a happy reunion with a loved one, which Johanna thought was even worse. So, no, she wasn't found by the beloved Girl on Fire or the only friend she had in the world.

It was Cressida, the filmmaker from the Capitol, who found her, curled up into herself by the door that lead outside.

"What's wrong?" she'd asked, and Johanna told her to fuck off. She wanted to hate herself in peace. She wanted to cry and rage and hate Snow, and scream, but she couldn't do any of those things around other people.

Cressida took her by the hand, opened the door, and led her outside.

"It's not really fair that they keep you inside all the time," she'd said. Her voice was soothing, and her hand surprisingly rough. "After what you've been through? You deserve a little fresh air."

Johanna didn't say anything to that. She couldn't. The night air was cold, colder than she expected. She ran a hand over her bald head. Her hair was growing back, kind of. She had a little layer of peach fuzz, which was longer where her bangs were before they shaved her.

"We match," Cressida had said, pointing at her own bald head with a small smile. She was hoping to lighten the mood, to cheer her up, but it just reminded Johanna of what happened. She doesn't remember much of what happened after that. Hands on her shoulders, guiding her back inside.

She doesn't know what's pulling her towards Cressida's room this time. When she hit the ground earlier, though, when the nurses tried to force her into a shower and she was back in that room, being shoved underwater, when she remembered the shocks so vividly she could almost feel them, she knew she wanted to see Cressida. Her words were upsetting, sure, but she tried to be nice. No one else has even tried to be nice to Johanna so far.

She tried talking to Finnick a few times, but all that happiness just exhausted her. She needs cautious optimism with a hefty dose of realism and some sprinkles of pessimism, not full-on joy.

Her knock is tentative. It reminds her that she's not the person she used to be. Normally, she'd knock loudly, if she'd even knock at all. She's a fraction of that woman, though. She's meek and scared, and much, much more abrasive lately. She wants someone to help her forget all that. She wants to feel like herself again.

When Cressida answers the door, her face lights up.

"Hey, Johanna," she says. "I was just thinking about you. Come on in!"

Her stomach jumps when Cressida says her name. Even though all the pain is still there, and nothing is okay, it's nice to know she can still feel that little jolt when a pretty girl says her name.