I didn't realize until just now that I was two behind on this. It's what I get for mislabeling save files :p
Anyway, figured I would catch this one up (so you guys get a two-fer) I want to get things posted before potential prior Irma-geddon. Three guesses where I live and the first two don't count.
Alright, peace guys, hope this lives up to things. They're both kinda short chapters, but I'm easing myself back in to writing, especially because this one can be kinda rough at times. Yay trauma (or not).
~Echo

Under the red there are pinpoints of noise. It's a word. The word sounds familiar. There's a substance to it but it won't climb over the danger. The pitch is growing louder, but then a drum roll, and a bobbing face. The axe and the peacock, play at eleven.

No.

Finnick. Johanna. They're safe. We're safe.

Annie and Delly are behind them. I'm scaring people again. It went bad. I won't be able to come back here if it is bad, or if it is worse?

"It's okay. I'm okay," everything's fading back to normal colors but I feel dizzy, really, "I'm sorry."

"No. I'm sorry," Annie says, from behind Finnick's shoulder, "I shouldn't have-"

"No. I have to be able to deal with i—her name. It just—I don't know. I'm glad you'll have a dress to wear. Finnick—maybe you can raid the….what was it...stuffy clothes upstairs?"

"The what?" Finnick asks.

"Oh!" Johanna says, "I brought Blondie some of his old clothes but there are ones from Capitol interviews and appearances still there. Posh suits and things."

"I...imagine there'll be several that coordinate...considering," small steps, don't choke, "and we're in the same shoes—shoe size, so hopefully they'd fit."

Finnick nudges me, softly, in the arm with his shoulder, "That's great. Thanks," Annie grabs his hand and squeezes. She looks about to say something but then stops and looks at Finnick. He kisses her on the nose. I feel both happy and dreadful about their closeness.

"We should get out of here though," Johanna says, "Before they come in with brushes and shovels or something."

"Right," Annie says, "but you will?" she hesitates, "get in touch with things, if you're okay with doing this."

"It's more than okay, and yes, somehow, perhaps sending a message via someone else if needed."

Annie nods several times as Finnick guides her out of the room.

"Thank you," Finnick adds, "Look forward to seeing what you come up with."

I am sandwiched between Johanna and Delly as we go out. I realize Johanna has wrapped up the remainder of the bread in a couple of towels and is carrying it with her.

"You made it. It's ours. I defy them to come after it," she says, when she catches me looking at her bundle, "They'll be the first person to be ki—knocked out by bread?"

"It's far too soft to knock anyone out," Delly chides, "The crust would crack if you tried."

"Well, I'll smother them with it then."

"Waste of good bread," Delly counters.

"Fine," Johanna grumbles, "I'll just strangle them with the towels. You catch the bread."

Delly leaves us with a hug and a loaf of braided bread when we're a floor away from my room. I recognize the path that went the opposite way to the elevator that Finnick and I took when we escaped to the surface. It makes sense that not every elevator has that ability. Keeps everything contained.

"How are you doing?" Johanna asks me once Delly is safely around the corner.

"I'm okay."

"Really okay? Or just I'm going to say I'm okay so that the subject is dropped?"

"I...don't know how to answer that question," I tell her.

"You just did."

I find myself confused at this and she just laughs, "It's alright. It was a lot."

"I screwed things up."

"No," she says, "You made bread. You talked shop. That was amazing considering not too long ago you were, frankly, a raving disoriented mess."

"I thought you were going to say lunatic."

"That would require what was going on to not be a credible response to all the shit we went through, and you had heaped on top of that."

I chew that over for a moment but all I really come back to is nope, lunatic.

"You don't believe me," she says, as we stop outside my not-so-much-cage room.

"It's difficult," I tell her, "Everything circles back around to lunatic."

"Well, that's a matter of fighting all the noise," she says.

"Okay..." I don't know how to do that though. There's all the rattling of how horrible I am, and will be and could be, and then it echoes around the tones of that woman...who gave birth to me. All the snippets I ever seem to get from her is nastiness, and that brings me around to why did she even have me? But that's things that I shouldn't focus on either because the fact is that now she's dead. All of them who knew me. Except Delly and her.

"You're not fighting the noise, Blondie," she says, as the door to my room opens, "That's listening to it. I can tell."

"I'm trying to..." not trying hard enough though. But then there's this other bit I realize. Katniss offered Annie a dress. That means they spoke.

"What's that look about?" Johanna asks. She's piling the bread on to the top of the dresser.

"What look?"

"I'm not sure," she says, "It looked one part not exactly horror but maybe creeped out? And then also struck with some brilliant idea, maybe? Some of your expressions are very confusing."

"I am generally confused at the moment so maybe that's why."

"There you go with those jokes again," she remarks, "Look at you, and also look at you avoiding the question in the first place which is what were you thinking about just before, in the noise, if you want clarification."

"No..."

"No, what?" she asks.

"I meant I didn't need clarification, exactly, I just...Annie must have spoken to Katniss; and I was just—is she here?"

Johanna seems hesitant. The first time I can recall seeing her that way.

"It's not that hard of a question," I point out, "Either yes or no."

"I know," she says, "It's just what happened before."

"Keep it real, right?"

"I should have known there'd be a time that might bite me in the ass," she says, "but you're right; and yes, she is here."

I feel the punch to the chest but there's no memory associated with it directly. Just that my body is aching. I sit down on the bed.

"How are we doing?" Johanna asks, arms folded and watching me intently.

"I'm not sure."

"Fair enough."

"She hasn't been to see me," I realize. Not that I would blame her. It was all fire and choking and pain.

"No."

"I did try to kill her though."

"Not exactly you, Blondie. We've been through this, and that's not exactly the reason either..." her voice is trailing off into hesitation again, "...she was hurt in Two. She's been in the hospital wing."