"Welcome to the electrical department!" In spite of the officer's positive intonation, everyone in my electrical section looks pretty miserable. Cressida, of course, does not. She's already fiddling with a screwdriver and making some sort of dildo gesture with it. I look toward the front of the room to the bespectacled man leading the group. Officer Latier, or Beetee as he's asked us to call him, is trying to teach us. He seems nice enough, as far as the officers go, with a soft face and a small belly. His smile is easy and genuine, and he looks like someone I would befriend if we were not in these circumstances. Rue is in this class, which is nice, but her and Cressida are the only women I recognize. I'm not great at making friends anyway and I haven't made any attempt to stretch beyond the four or five women who have come to know me. "The handbook I gave you will be very informative and helpful in your journey to becoming, well, mediocre electricians."

Cressida snorts and twirls the screwdriver on its point a few times before Beetee walks by and snatches it from her. "What the hell?"

He holds the screwdriver up as he paces the room. "All tools and equipment will be checked out. Watson, you'll be doing that job for the next few weeks." Rue nods her head and walks into the cage that holds the equipment and tools with her handbook under her arm. There's a little stool in there that she dutifully sits upon and awaits further instruction. I'm not sure but I think he did it out of pity; she's too young to be handling power tools, at least in my estimation. "You will learn how to fix things. I'm sure this was not top priority for any of you in terms of assignment, but it is practical. Everyone knows how to wash clothes, not everyone can fix a faulty dryer. Could potentially save you money." He shrugs his shoulders and adjusts his coke-bottle glasses. "Who knows, it could flourish into a career?"

"You hear that, Everdeen?" Cressida inquires with a nudge of her elbow. "We could flourish."

Her sarcasm aside, that's true. I was disappointed to not be able to do the GED program helping the other inmates, but Haymitch informed me that the education program was shut down temporarily due to budget cuts. Instead I got sent to electrical. It isn't so bad, though. I flip open the large handbook and begin reading as my desk-mate boredly twirls her blonde hair in her fingers.

"You really gonna read that, Everdeen?" she questions, nodding to the book.

"Well I'd rather not electrocute myself," I reply condescendingly. She shrugs her shoulders and hefts open the book to a random page in the middle and begins reading.

After about twenty minutes of silence, I can feel Cressida's blue eyes scrutinizing me from the side. Slowly I drag my eyes from my handbook to her face and shake my head once. "So you and Mason, how'd that happen?" My eyes roll and I return them to my book, trying to block out her penetrating gaze from beside me. She sticks the end of a pen in her mouth and gnaws on the end of it. "C'mon, Everdeen."

"Katniss."

She smirks. "C'mon Katniss. I look at the two of you, and I don't see shit that you'd have in common."

I flatten my palm against my handbook and swivel on my stool to turn my full attention to her. "You don't know anything about me," I accuse, in a much more serious tone than I intended.

She cocks her eyebrow. "It's not like you're a riddle wrapped in an enigma, Katniss. You're a good girl that got caught up in a bad situation, seduced by a charismatic recruiter. But, she fucks up and falls for you, and you for her, but eventually the lifestyle catches up." I blink a few times but don't make any indication that she's right. She knows she is, though, and shrugs. "I've seen it tons of times in my career as a junkie."

A sigh pushes past my lips as I bring my eyes back to my handbook. That's a fairly accurate summation of what happened between Johanna and me. Cressida knows it too by the smug, dimpling grin that spreads on her face. Exasperatedly I look back at her. "If you knew how it happened, why did you ask?"

"That's how I think it happened," she corrects. "But something is fucked in translation because you both ended up here and you don't speak to each other." She wriggles her fingers through her hair and tosses it over to the side to more clearly expose the little green vine tattoos down her scalp and neck. "So what happened, hm? Someone cheat? Dyke drama is always an event."

"No," I respond slowly. "No one cheated. At least not that I know of." I say that, but I'm sure Johanna never would've cheated on me. It's not in her nature. Her entire business is built on trust and loyalty; that extended to her personal life as well. "It's complicated," I dismiss, hoping that will stave Cressida's burning curiosity.

It doesn't. She leans her elbow on her handbook and gestures around. "Look around, Everdeen. We've got time."

Two Years Ago

Hotels typically have a certain smell to them; carpet cleaner and disinfectant masked by some unseen lavender room refresher. But this one doesn't. The breeze from the open window wafts in the smell of fresh bread from the wonderful cafe on the ground floor. From out that same window you can see the giant steel beams of the Eiffel Tower, standing proudly in the center of Paris. Johanna is sitting at the desk, typing away at her laptop with acute concentration. Every so often she swears to herself, but I've learned by now to ignore it. It'll pass like storm clouds.

As wonderful as Paris has been, it's become a little stale. There are only so many cheese buns I can stuff in my face, so many museums I can visit, before boredom begins to seep into my veins. Johanna's been chained to this city for almost two weeks now, and we haven't done much together outside of a few dinners in our hotel room and, as always, a ridiculous among of sex.

"Jo?" I call, flopping over on my stomach and looking at her. She doesn't turn around, but I continue anyway. "I miss you."

Her fingers halt above the keyboard and I hear her let out a long sigh. Guilt trips aren't usually my thing, but sometimes Johanna is hard to reach. If I must do so through emotional manipulation, then I must do so. "I don't have time to wander around flea markets and drink cafe au lait with you, brainless."

I pout and rest my chin on my palms. "But I - I miss you."

Johanna finally turns around in her chair, and upon seeing my face, her expression softens considerably. She stands from her desk and runs her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm just so fucking stressed."

"You're always so fucking stressed," I tack on, raising my eyebrow. "I feel like a fucking housewife. Is this our life now? You work constantly and I stay home and wait for you at the door with a newspaper and a cocktail?"

Johanna crouches down in front of the bed so she's eye level with me, and places a gentle kiss on my lips. "I know. Listen. Why don't you let me take you out tonight?" she asks, raising her eyebrows up. "Anywhere you want to go."

"Yeah?" She nods and I pull myself up onto my knees, and Johanna straights her legs to stand. At this height differential she has to lean down to kiss me and she does, sweeping my hair behind my neck as she takes my lips. It's not that I wanted her to take me somewhere, I just want her attention. Once we pull away she grins at me.

"Are you up for a trip to Istanbul this weekend?" she inquires suddenly, tilting her head to the side.

I'm so excited about going away with her; I completely miss the calculation in her eyes. "What? Sure!"

And I miss the look of pure relief on her face when I agree; I only see the elation in her smile. "Oh, Kat, that's great." She picks up her phone from her desk and begins tapping away on it. "Thank you. You should be able to get there and back within a day, you wouldn't even have to stay overnight. I'll call and set up a ticket for you."

"Wait," I call, shuffling off the bed and snatching her phone from her. I hang up on whatever drug dealing ticket agent she has on speed-dial and toss the phone behind me onto the mattress. Her dark eyes narrow at me in confusion. The realization washes over my face and my jaw slackens. "Oh, my god. I thought we were going on a vacation. Together. You know, like normal people."

She hardens her expression and plants her hands on her hips. "I really need you to do this," she pleads, and I can see she's trying to keep her patience, but only because she wants a favor from me. I should have seen this coming. Johanna's always been a master manipulator, but never with me. Unless I was just blind to it until now. "I would never ask if I had any other option, Katniss, you know that."

"Absolutely not," I reply hotly, looking down into her eyes. "I told you very specifically after I did that, that I would never do that again. I don't want to be your drug mule, Johanna. For fuck's sake, I'm your girlfriend!"

"And as my girlfriend, I thought you'd be willing to do me a fucking favor," she retorts with a roll of her eyes. "You're such a naive asshole sometimes."

"I'm an asshole?" I balk, tucking in my chin.

"I'm drowning right now," she explains in a tight voice, "and you won't even consider helping me?"

Emotional manipulation to get Johanna's attention is one thing; for her to try and use it to get me to carry her drugs or her drug money is absolutely ridiculous. The way she's looking at me, like she's genuinely disappointed I won't put my life on the line for her, is more heartbreaking than the words that come out of my mouth. "I can't do this. I'm done."

Her compressed lips slip open in surprise, but the moment of vulnerability is quickly masked by one of shock and anger. "You're done? What do you mean, you're done?"

"I mean I can't do this anymore, Johanna," I tell her softly. "I can't be with you."

The heartache is as plain in her eyes as the brown of her irises and it takes everything within me to wipe my face clean of any expression at all. She swallows down her emotions and hardens her stare again. "Where will you go?"

"Back home, where I'm not your errand girl," I reply snidely. At the moment, I don't know where I'll go. Probably to Madge's house, she'll pick me up from the airport, in all the pieces I'll be in once I get home. My boots are next to the bed and I begin tugging them on as Johanna paces around the room.

She lets out a harsh cackle at her own expense. "How did I not see this coming?" she asks rhetorically, tossing her hands up on the air. I stand up to meet her gaze. "You know what? I did see this coming. The day we met, I broke rule number one. Don't fall in love with a straight girl. Especially a virgin."

My eyes blink rapidly in surprise at her sneering tone and I take a few steps back. "That's what you think this is about? That I like men?" I roll my eyes and scoff, "I suppose that's easier than coming to terms with the fact that you're a drug dealer and it is ruining everything good in your life!"

I whirl around and storm toward the door. Just as I reach the door handle, I hear her speak up. "I thought we were friends."

"We were never friends," I tell her without turning around.

She huffs. "Right. Well I thought we were at least a team." With a deep sigh I harden my resolve and open the door, slamming it closed behind me.

Current Day

"There's just so many bibles," Cashmere complains as she sticks her fork into her soft vegetables. "How are we supposed to know which one is the truth and which one isn't?"

Clove rolls her eyes and sighs like Cashmere is the dumbest person on the planet. Unfortunately, they could all vie for that title and they would probably all win. I'd never sit with them, except for the fact that it keeps Johanna at a distance, which is what I need right now. Rehashing our breakup with Cressida dredged up a lot of feelings of guilt and anger that I had long buried in the sand.

"It's all truth, stupid," Clove spits at her. "It's all the official word of God. Just a little bit different, is all."

"Why would God tell people different things?" Cashmere asks, blinking vacantly.

"So he don't get repetitive," Clove insists. "You know how boring it is when someone tells the same goddamn story over and over again? No one wants to do that, not even God. So he tells people the story and a little bit different each time. Adds a little, takes away a little. But it's all the same."

Cashmere nods and opens her mouth like she's finally got it, but I don't think she's got it. "Different time periods," I say quietly, looking toward the blonde. "The different bibles were all written at different points in history, so the perspectives shift. The message, though, is essentially the same. Whether Moses separated the sea, or separated some reeds, either way he got the Israelites to freedom."

Clove pats me on the back and looks at me in open-mouthed wonderment. "You see? Damn, even the new girl's got it." Once she removes her hand she scoops her fork back up and points it at me. "We've got to baptize you, new girl!"

Cashmere and Glimmer are all a-titter with excitement and I look between the three of them. "Baptize?"

Clove nods her head, sweeping her black hair from her face. "Well, sort of. It ain't holy water, but we do it all the same here. You get baptized and then you are reborn as a follower of Jesus, Panem Penitentiary style."

"And the prison is okay with this?"

Clove shrugs. "They can't do nothin'. Religious freedom and all that." My eyes widen but I return my attention back to my food and poke around at my plate. I suppose there's no harm in a little fake baptism, if it continues my tenuous but peaceful relationship with my bunkmate. Across the lunchroom I spy Effie, Cressida, and Johanna sitting at a table together, laughing at some demonstrative story Cressida is telling, complete with inappropriate hand gestures.

Since I rejected her at lunch a few days ago, I haven't seen a lick of Johanna other than across the yard outside or sometimes passing in the hallways. She never meets my eyes, though. I've gotten into the habit of sending Clove to the laundry with my clothes to avoid Johanna entirely, which Clove doesn't mind since Glimmer and Cashmere work down there, too. In exchange, I make sure both our sections are ready for inspection at any time, which she appreciates.

Later that day Clove and I are in our bunk, reading silently to ourselves. The pickings in the library are pretty slim - more self-help books than is absolutely necessary - but I found a decent novel that was easy to lose myself in. "Hey Everdeen. I mean, Katniss." I peer over my book to see the smiling face of Cressida. "You busy tomorrow night?"

"Oh, well, I was planning on taking in a movie, maybe doing some shopping." Cressida rolls her eyes at my extensive sarcasm and I grin back at her. "I don't think so, why?"

The blonde eyes Clove before continuing. "We were uh, thinking about having a little pow wow after lights out. Wanted to know if you wanted to join us."

A pow wow? Something about her evasive phrasing makes me think we'll be doing something illegal. Of course, all legality is somewhere of a gray area here. Clove perks up from the bed next to me. "Katniss is busy tomorrow, lesbo."

Cressida cocks her eyebrow at me. "Really? With this fucking nut job?"

"I'm busy?" I ask, folding my book closed and looking over at my bunkmate.

Clove nods her head rapidly. "Tomorrow's your baptism, Katniss! We can't do it during the day, 'cos they use the chapel for other stuff, but at night nobody goes in there. Then we can do the baptism and not be disturbed."

"Baptism?" Cressida inquires. She settles her eyes on me. "Katniss. Let's take a walk, shall we?" I oblige her and get up off my bed, slipping on my shoes to follow her around the dorm. Once we get out into the hallway, she gently shoves me toward the wall to face her and her inquisition. "Are you fucking crazy? You're not really a religious person, are you? I mean, you've had sexual relations with women, Everdeen. They don't like that shit."

My eyes roll back in my head. "Of course not. I'm not religious at all. I'm Agnostic."

"Agnostic and bisexual? Damn you can't commit to anything, can you? God or Atheism, pussy or dick." I give her a droll look and she holds up her palms. "Sorry. Anyway, you can't let her do that shit to you. Do you know what she does?" I shake my head. "She gets this big vat of water from god-knows-where, and hauls it on the stage of the chapel. She rants for a while, then basically tries to fuckin' drown you in this tap water." My face scrunches in disgust and Cressida widens her eyes. "Yeah. I'm sure she forgot to mention the girl she nearly killed doing that."

"What?"

"You heard me. Almost drowned some poor girl all in the name of Jesus," she explains, putting her hand to her heart and the other in the air dramatically. She claps her raised hand on my shoulder. "You've got to tell her you're not doing that."

I sigh. If I don't let Clove do her weird baptism, she probably won't want to hang out with me anymore. Then it'll be open season for Johanna and I. Or maybe not, she's really pissed at me. Cressida pins me with her stare until I relent. "Okay, fine. I'll tell her I'm not doing it."

"Good. And let her down easy, 'cause Katniss?" I nod. "She's fucking crazy, that girl. You don't know why everyone's in here. And even the ones you do, you don't know that they're telling you the truth. On top of that, just because their offenses are minor, doesn't mean they're good people. Not everyone's a victim of the system. A lot of people deserve to be here."

Her expression is clear of any levity as she relays this information to me. Clove must really be a fucked up person for even Cressida to not trust her or want to deal with her. I nod my head again and she takes a step back from me. "Thanks, Cressida."

"No problem. The way I see it, we non-crazies have to look out for one another." She winks at me and saunters away, down another hallway in a different direction. Gathering my courage I go back toward my dorm, to see my bunkmate holding her rosary and reciting a silent prayer.

I wait for her to finish before sitting down in my bed and facing her. "Clove?" She looks up at me. I try for a moment to identify the trace of crazy that Cressida insists is in there. Instead, in her dark brown eyes, all I see is flecks of green and possibly a little bit of a lack of focus. Other than that, she seems okay. "Look, I need to confess something to you."

"This ain't confession," Clove interrupts. "Even Sister Paylor won't sit down for confessions."

"Not a confession like that," I explain gently. She tilts her head to the side. "The thing is, I'm ...I'm not really all that religious." Her eyes squint. "I don't actually believe in God or Jesus or the bible. I believe in science and medicine and, you know, real things. I mean, I'm not saying there is no God, or that what you believe is wrong. I think it's great, what Christianity can do. But um, I don't think it would be right for you to baptize me. Seeing as how I don't really follow the rules, you know? I don't want to waste your time."

"But you're a sinner," she combats in an even voice. "Don't you want to be clean?"

"Yeah, see, that's the thing. I don't think I'm a sinner. I don't think there's sin like that. My being in love with a woman for a time, or having sex before marriage with my fiancé, that's not sinful. That's life. Anything that teaches you love between two consenting adults is sin, is probably bullshit." My eyes widen. "No offense."

"Oh." Her face falls in disappointment. Disappointment I can handle. I was expecting her to sort of go off the rails, but she seems to be taking it okay. "I appreciate you being honest with me," she says, a smile coming on her face. "You're not a bad person, Katniss, even if you are a sinner. I'll pray for you."

I sigh and give her a tight-lipped smile. "Right. Thanks." I snatch my book from where I left it and toss off my shoes. Propping my feet up and placing my head on the sad pile of fluff they call a pillow, I absorb myself back into my novel. That went much better than I expected. Maybe Cressida's overblown Clove's craziness. I know they don't like each other, so perhaps she's misconstrued the whole situation. I consider myself a pretty good judge of character - some minor setbacks in my past notwithstanding - and Clove seems all right to me.

I was wrong.

Clove is not all right.

I spent the day with her and her friends, with everything seemingly back to normal. They didn't try to pressure me into the baptism anymore, and we had a normal lunch and dinnertime, which was a nice reprieve. I didn't want to join Cressida for whatever her pow wow was, because I figured she would invite Johanna and I wanted to avoid that awkwardness. Instead I returned to my bed and settled in early. I was really sleepy anyway, so it was easy for me to drift off.

I awoke a few hours later tied to a chair in the chapel, with all the lights off, surrounded by Clove, Glimmer and Cashmere. I don't know how they got me here other than they must have slipped something into my drink at dinner. My hands are bound behind me, and there's a makeshift gag made out of a ripped up uniform around my mouth.

Clove is reciting some passage from the bible and I can't help but roll my eyes when her back is turned. To my side sits a bucket of some suspicious looking water, that I'm now thinking they have no intention of baptizing me in. They're going to drown me for being a sinner. Fighting against the restraints is of no use; these idiots can't spell or do simple addition, but damn they can tie a knot.

The lights come on just above the stage and I breathe a sigh of relief. One of the guards must've seen that I was missing. But instead of the loud voice of Officer Thread or the soft voice of Officer Odair, I hear the high voice that I recognize immediately and grimace. Of course.

"What the fuck is going on, hm?" Johanna asks, sauntering up the side of the stage. Her eyes meet mine and in those fiery brown hues I can see the start of Johanna's anger. She looks around at the girls. "Here's what's going to happen. You're all going to leave, right now."

"Or what, dyke?" Clove sneers, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Or I will fuck you." Johanna steps closer to the other raven-haired girl, coming right up to Clove's face. Clove's one of the few people Johanna has a natural height advantage on, even if it's just two inches, but she's making the most of it. "Literally." The older girl leans in, pulling her glasses up to rest on the crown of her head. "I will sneak into your bunk in the middle of the night and eat your pussy." Clove's brown eyes widen to comically large proportions. "And I'll do it so good and so soft you'll be on the edge of coming by the time you wake up. And I'll stop." I'd hate to admit how turned on I am, so I pretend that I'm not. ...But I am and I can't forget it. "And you'll be on the brink of sleep and you will beg for it." Her voice lowers to a purr. "Oh, you will beg for it. Maybe I'll be nice, and maybe I won't." She gets right into Clove's face, an inch from the crazy girl's lips. "And if I'm nice? The things you feel will ruin you forever."

Clove rolls her eyes but the sass doesn't reach them. She's petrified. The shorter girl stumbles as she takes a step back and waves toward her minions. "Let's go. Clearly this lesbo can't keep her hands to herself around women." She levels her gaze at Johanna. "You disgust me."

"Mm, but you'll love me when I'm down on that muff, girl." Johanna flicks her tongue between her lips a few times like a snake and winks. Clove huffs and storms away with her clique of maniacs into the darkened part of the chapel. Johanna pulls her glasses back over her eyes and reaches to undo my gag. She hesitates and looks down at me with an amused grin. "Gotta say Everdeen, I don't hate you with this look. If we were on better terms, can you imagine the things I could do to you like this? And you couldn't say a goddamn word." My eyes flash in anger, but also arousal, and she catches it. "You always did like to be the submissive, didn't you, darling?"

"Fuck you," I try to spit around the gag. It comes out like "furf foo" but I think she knows what I mean. My eyes are angry, I hope, and not as turned on as the throbbing between my legs would indicate.

She raises her eyebrow. "Oh? I guess I could just leave you here. I'm sure Sister Paylor would love to walk in on you tied up like some low budget porn gone awry."

I roll my eyes at her theatrics. There's no way she's going to leave me here. ...Then again, after I made her feel like shit at lunch, maybe she will. No one has ever said that Johanna Mason is not vindictive. "Please don't leave," I plead as best I can. Johanna used to love when I'd beg. It's not something I did often, but she loved it. I'd haul it out every so often when Johanna was in one of her moods, or she was trying to withhold sex or orgasm from me.

Her eyes flash in angry recognition of that phrase. She purses her lips. "You know, since I have you here, I'm gonna go ahead and use this opportunity to tell you something." Johanna places both her hands on my thighs and leans in close. "I didn't name you. I know you don't believe me, and I can't really do anything to make you. But if we could just act fucking civil, that'd be great." She backs up and folds her arms across her chest. "You're the closest thing I have to a friend in this place." Her eyes drop to the ground and again I feel the twinge in my heart. Sympathy.

I nod my assent. Finally she unties my gag and I cough a few times. "Thank you." Johanna untangles the binds around my wrists and I shake them free and stand up off of the chair. I level my gaze at her, fighting down the building arousal in my stomach. "But we were never friends, Jo."

She smirks. "You're right, we weren't. We still aren't. But, we don't have to be enemies, right?"

"Right." We walk out of the chapel together, down the darkened corridors. For once I'm glad for Panem's lack of good security guards because we'd definitely be in trouble for an after hours walk. "How did you know I was in there?" I ask, looking over at her.

"Cressida told me what went down between you and Clove. And unlike you, I could see that Clove is a fucking psycho." I blush in embarrassment and my humiliation makes Johanna laugh softly. "It's okay. We all misjudge people sometimes. You do tend to live in your own little bubble, Kat."

Her condescension aside, I can't say I'm not grateful for her intervention. "Well thank you, really." She shrugs like it's no big deal, but that potentially could've been a disaster. Clove is small but scrappy. Glimmer is slight, and not particularly athletic. Cashmere has quite an athletic build, and I don't doubt that she could probably have taken Johanna if it came to a fight. Johanna may be shrugging me off, but she nearly risked her life for me. "I owe you an apology for what happened the other day at lunch." Johanna's eyes cloud over and she drops my gaze, instead staring at the floor as we walk. "Really. I'm sorry. I should have stuck up for you. I was being a fucking coward."

"I can take care of myself," she counters back at me. The intensity of her response takes me by surprise but she shrugs her shoulders once more. "She's not the first bully I've ever encountered, you know that. And she's not the last."

"Still, I appreciate what you did for me today. I won't forget it." I take her hand and squeeze it as we get to my dorm, offering her a brief smile that she almost returns, before I duck back into my dorm and tiptoe to my bed. Clove is already there, either asleep or pretending to be, so I settle into my bed. I don't think she'll try to kill me tonight, and it's not like I couldn't take her.

I don't get much sleep that night.

Over the next few days things sort of simmer down into normal. I spend my meals with Johanna and Cressida, and sometimes Effie. Every so often Mags or Sister Paylor joins us, but usually Cressida's conversational topics drive them away. It's still awkward between Johanna and me - there's a lot of ground for us to cover before we can be friendly again - but at least she doesn't look at me with disdain anymore. If we can't be friends, at least we can tolerate each other. There's still a level of care between us; she proved it when she came to my rescue in the chapel.

A young black girl I barely know is getting out, and a few of us were tasked with putting together a small going away party for her. We don't have a lot of accouterment to prepare a party, but we make do. Prison inmates are nothing if not a little thrifty. Johanna and I are tasked with putting up streamers, while Cressida and Effie hang signs that wish the girl well in her new freedom.

"Did you make this?" Johanna asks, holding up the end of the sign for me while I affix the other side to the wall.

"Yes," I tell her with a nod. I motion back to the table. "The first time I spelled it wrong." Her name is a misspelling of the word destiny, spelled Destinee, which I did not know. On the table are the remains of the first sign I tried to make before Cressida told me I was 'trying too hard.'

Johanna chuckles. "And they say you went to college." Behind Johanna a few of the girl's friends are shedding a few tears for her impending arrival. Once the person in charge of food rolls in the small buffet they put together, Destinee should be coming in right after. "God I hate seeing people go," Johanna reveals suddenly, as I get closer to her to pin the other side. I move the small step stool next to her and climb it. "Reminds me of how much time I have."

I glance at her and smile. "But think of the story you'll have," I tease, giving her a grin.

"That's my line," she reminds me in mock offense.

"I know. You used to trot that out in times of suckiness." I climb down off the footstool and step back to appraise my work, to check if the banner is straight. "Like that time I got sick in Java."

Johanna's chuckles escalate into full on laughter at my expense. "That is a great fuckin' story. The entire village came out to see you poop!"

As I jab Johanna in her ribcage, a small blonde girl rolls in the cart with the food on it. Just behind her is another woman who somehow got her hands on a stereo. She presses a button as Destinee enters the room, and the small recreation area is filled the sound with an older hip-hop song with a pounding bass line. Girls immediately pair off and start dancing, and Johanna and I watch from the side of the room. Finally she pinches me above my elbow. "You gonna miss a chance to let everyone see you dancing?"

I grin at her and pull her onto the dance floor, placing my hands on her hips. Her eyes widen a bit in shock, but she moves with me in rhythm. Her wrists drape around my neck as she gyrates her hips to the song, rolling her pelvis against me. My breath catches in my throat, and she hears it, so she begins moving her hips in earnest. Her piercing brown eyes never leave mine until I force her to spin around and press her back into my chest. My hands move from her shoulders down her arms as she extends them, entwining our fingers together as she moves up and down my body.

My heart is racing and the way her hips are jerking to the beat, well, my libido is suddenly very, very awake. She lets go of my hands to ruffle her fingers through her hair, dipping her head back to rest on my shoulder. I move my hands down to her waist to feel her body moving against me, lost in the sensation of a warm body pressed against my own. Johanna bends down to the floor, pressing her ass against my crotch and flipping her hair back as she slowly gets up, arching her back. This causes a loud round of applause from the other women and catcalling, which makes Johanna grin hugely.

I try not to think about how adorable Johanna is when she smiles like that.

I try not to think about how this is the second time in a week Johanna has made me embarrassingly horny.

And I especially am not going to think about how badly I want to drag her into that chapel and fuck her until I hear her scream my name like she used to.

Because that would be wrong. It would be wrong and deplorable, and I am going to get married once this is over. To a man that is nothing like Johanna. Then why, I ask silently to whatever higher power may be listening, does this feel so natural to me?

During some free time a few days later, I remember to call up Peeta. I haven't spoken to him in a few days - a mark of a rapid upturn in my general mood here - but I should see how he's doing. Madge should be going into labor any day now and I'm hoping he'll remember to at least call me before or after. He's also setting up the bakery so he's been busy as well. He sends me letters, though I usually fail to return the gesture.

"Hey Katniss," Peeta greets brightly as the phone call finally goes through. "I haven't heard from you in a while. I got worried maybe you joined a girl gang."

I chuckle into the receiver. "Almost. Some religious whack jobs tried to baptize me."

"Baptize you?" he asks, and I can almost hear his eyes popping out. His shock devolves into laughter. "That's the strangest thing I've heard all day, for sure."

"Not even the strangest thing that's ever happened here," I add with a grin. A silence falls on the line and I twist the cord between my fingers. "Hey, so, did Madge give you any information to tell me?"

I hear him sigh on the other line. "She told me you asked about Johanna." Before I can respond, he cuts in, "It's not a good idea for you two to get close again. And I'm not saying that as your jealous boyfriend not in jail with you. I'm saying that because I care about you."

"I can handle myself," I assure him, trying to not lose my patience. I need to know. This could drastically alter my relationship with Johanna, which I am dying to get back to normal. Perhaps she and I could have a shot at friendship. We've been spending more time together lately, and it's felt so natural, so wonderful. Having someone in here that truly understands me? That makes a world of difference. I don't mention to him, of course, the lingering feelings of attraction I have for her. "How's Madge?" I deflect.

"She's fine," he sighs into the receiver. "The doctor says only a few days now. If she doesn't go into labor within the week, they're going to induce. She's freaking. Gale's calm. The usual."

"And the book store?"

"Still standing," he confirms. "Madge obviously hasn't been there but Gale has gone to check on any shipments and make sure everything is running smoothly."

That's good. I'm going to need something once I get out of here, and I'm relying on our bookstore to be that thing. "Great."

There is a long pause on the line, and I nearly interrupt Peeta to tell him that we don't have much time on these phones for his dramatic silences when he cuts in with a flat, "She named you." The phone slips through my hands, clattering against the wall. Quickly I use the cord to pull it up and place it next to my ear. "Katniss, did you hear me?"

I did hear him. I wish I hadn't. "Yeah."

There's a long stretch of silence between us. "So what are you going to do?"

"What can I do?" I snap back. "She's living in here with me. I can't avoid her, Peeta, even if I wanted to. I don't know what to do." You have one minute the robot voice comes through the line. "Shit. God, now I wish I'd never asked."

"It's better to know the truth," he insists in his firm, gentle voice. "This way you can tell her you don't want to be her friend and just move on."

"It's not that easy," I counter tiredly. I rest my shoulder against the wall, and then lean my forehead against the cool tile.

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! She was a big part of my life, and now that I'm living here with her, I can't just shut her out."

Another pregnant pause. "Can't? Or won't?"

I'm both startled and angered by his question. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing," he resigns. "I'm just saying that with a little effort, you might be able to avoid her for a while. Find some hobbies. I'll come visit more often. Just please, stay away from her, Katniss."

"Are you telling me what to do?"

Peeta chuckles. "Would it make a difference if I did? I'm trying to suggest what I think is best."

"Yeah, well, when you're in a fucking women's prison you can tell me what you think." I slam the receiver down and storm off back toward my bunk. Johanna named me. All this time, I really believed that she didn't do it. I wanted to believe that she wouldn't betray me. The last week of being closer to her has been the best time I've had since I arrived. Now I'm so shaken by my own rage I can't even think straight. This is my punishment for breaking her heart? Fifteen months of my life robbed from me? That seems like a hefty fine for heartbreak.

Two Years Ago

Johanna is sitting on the edge of the bed as I emerge from the bathroom, frantically still trying to find my passport. She's been on the phone with someone, talking in low tones since I returned and began to pack my things. My flight is in less than two hours and she hasn't even pretended to care that I might not be able to leave the country. She said she'd look when I texted her while I was out, but it looks like she hasn't left the bed in hours.

As I round the bed toward her I see her staring blankly ahead out the open window. Night has fallen on Paris, not that it would be obvious since the entire city is lit up brilliantly, as it usually is. Johanna's face is expressionless; her normally pale skin even a lighter shade of white. "Are you finally off the phone?" I snark at her, tilting my head. She doesn't respond, which is unlike her. Johanna loves an argument. Of course, I am leaving her, so perhaps she's just being stubborn. "Look, I know you're upset, but I need you to look at me. Act like I'm a person in this room, okay?"

"My mom died."

I freeze. I stare hard down at her, positive that I'm not hearing her correctly. If she's trying to stop me from leaving by lying about this, that's low, even for her. But by the glossiness of her eyes and the way she's swallowing saliva at a rapid pace, she's being serious. "What?" I sit down next to her on the plush mattress.

"One of her neighbors called me. They said she didn't come out to check her mail in the morning, and they found her in her bedroom, dead. An aneurysm. I don't know," she croaks, shaking her head and sniffing mucus back up into her head. "He said so much to me, I don't remember half of it." Sadly she huffs out a laugh. "The fucked up part is that the first thing I thought of was that I needed to call her and tell her."

My hand begins instinctively rubbing her back. My instinct to nurture her is second nature to me now, even though I have firmed up in my mind that I am leaving our relationship. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Can you get us two seats on the next flight out of Paris?" she inquires, blinking over to me. Tears have started spilling down her cheeks, and her normally light voice is even more high-pitched. "I have to figure out the funeral, there's no one else to do it."

Behind her sadness I can see her mind whirring and I know I need to interrupt her thought train. "Jo, I can't go with you," I reveal softly.

Her head whips to the side. "What? You're still leaving?" I nod. "Katniss, my mom just died!" The heartbreak and hopelessness in her voice is like an arrow in my heart, but I have to stay strong. If I go home with Johanna and work her through her grief, I will never leave her. I will always be the accomplice to a drug dealer. I will always be tethered to her and this lifestyle that is slowly tearing us apart.

"I know, and I'm so sorry about your mom." I mean this, too. I've met Diane and she was nothing but wonderful in the few times I saw her. She was full of life and so, so very proud of Johanna. In return, Johanna adored her. "But this doesn't change anything."

"I can't fucking believe you," she seethes through her tears, her breaths coming out in short little gasps. "Top drawer, under my t-shirts," she mumbles, looking down at the floor and motioning to the dresser to our right, in front of the bed. She can't even bear to look at me right now. I don't blame her. I'm nearly ashamed of myself, but I have to be strong.

I roll my eyes. "Jesus, Jo, you hid it?" I open the drawer and retrieve my passport, tucking it into my back pocket. I'll transfer it to my bag later, but for now I need to leave. Grabbing my suitcase I whirl it around, making haste toward the door.

"Please don't leave," she begs, her voice softer than I've ever heard it. It stops me in my tracks and I have to take in a deep breath to stop myself from crying. My eyes drop down to my left hand, which is clutching the handle of my rolling suitcase.

I turn around and walk the few paces back toward Johanna, who has stood up from the bed and made a few advances toward me. Her face is crumpled, her mascara running down her cheeks. The urge to wipe her tears away and hold her to make this all better is so overwhelming I have to look away for a moment. Her breaths are still ragged, short pants in between silent, shuddering sobs. Slowly I reach down, gently sliding off the little platinum band around my finger, careful to avoid hitting the triangular diamond that is set in the top. Johanna watches me as I place the ring on the dresser, the clink of metal hitting wood the only noise in the room over her choked breaths.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, unable to meet her bloodshot brown eyes. "I can't." With that I pivot around and grab my suitcase, heading quickly toward the door. I open and slam it behind me, closing out Johanna. Closing out her world, and walking out on everything we were, and would have been.

Author's Note: I did not forget about this story. I waffled with how much of the original show to include, but it occurs to me that perhaps it's not wise to mirror the show so closely, so I'll be telling a somewhat different tale. I'll still draw from the Vauseman dynamic, and some of the show's plot points, etc. In any case, it's Joniss. It's slashy and it's in jail. Enjoy!

Big ups to Johannas-Motivational-Insults for her thorough beta read, as always.