They were leaving today. Peeta, Finnick, Katniss, and the rest of their team. Three of the only people on this planet I cared about were leaving today, possibly forever. I pulled the thin, white blanket up to my nose and closed my eyes, trying to will away an inkling of tears.

I forced myself to stand, and stretch my limbs out, before pulling out my standard-issue outfit. Grey pants, worn hand-me-downs that fell awkwardly to my ankle, three inches too short, matched with a grey button-up long sleeve. I was luck enough to receive a long sleeve shirt, whereas most residents got short sleeve. My luck was probably just compensation for my short pants. I pulled off my pajamas so I stood in just a pair of underwear, when Katniss walked in. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling instantly exposed and vulnerable at the sudden presence in my room.

"What, Johanna, you act as if I've never seen you naked before." Katniss said, her voice and smile strained. I turned away from her as I put my bra on, fumbling to latch the clasp with shaky hands. She was right, of course. The night of the tribute parade before the Quell I stripped down to only shoes in front of her, as well as Haymitch and Peeta. Then later that week I stripped down for a wrestling match, all just to unnerve Katniss, forcing her to exaggeratedly dodge her gaze away from my general vicinity.

But that was months ago. In the time since I've endured a second set of games, and was ruthlessly tortured for months by the capitol, losing a significant amount of weight. My ribs and hip bones still protruded noticeably, as did the vertebrae in my spine. Additionally, my skin was still riddled with now-fading bruises and ugly, jagged scars. Now Katniss' appraisal of my body was unnerving. I felt weak, unprotected.

"Oh, how the tables have turned." I muttered, pulling up the pants, my back still to her. "I guess I don't want you to be disappointed with what I've become," I said, intending for it to be sarcastic, but it came out weak and shaky. Well, I didn't want her to see what I've become, not fully. I was weak now, changed. Not who I was. Katniss said she trusted me, but that was when I was filled with fire and spite and hatred. Now the only thing I have left is hatred, and a good amount is directed at myself (Though still more at myself).

"Johanna…" Katniss said. I heard her approach me as I struggled to button my damn shirt. My hands had been shaking since my first torture session with the capitol. The doctor said it's nothing, but it's been nearly three months. I feel her presence directly behind me and give up on buttoning the shirt. I only managed to get the bottom button, the rest of my shirt hangs open. I cross my arms again, pinning the shirt shut as I turn to meet Katniss' eyes.

"I don't need your pity, Everdeen," I snarl, despising the sorry look on her face. She narrowed her stormy eyes at me.

"But you do need my help." She snapped, indicating my shirt. I stare at her for a few seconds, the fire drained from me. I never wanted to be dependent on anyone, especially not The Girl On Fire, but she had already helped me before.

I was in the bathroom, getting dirt out from under my fingernails when Katniss walked in and turned the shower on. What happened next was a reflex. I flinched back, crashing into the sink and inadvertently turning the faucet on, and I felt the stream of water flow over my wrist. It seemed to burn. I knew it wasn't but all I could think of was the burning agony that would come next. I sprang away, at least I wasn't strapped down this time.

My body slammed into Katniss' knocking us both onto the hard tile of the bedroom. I couldn't move, my body felt locked into the fetal position, every limb stiff but trembling. Katniss grabbed my head and forced me to look at her. I could see her mouth moving but I heard nothing but screaming. I wondered if it was me, or just a flashback of when I was actually being shocked. I knew I wasn't being shocked now, and I knew I wouldn't be again, but I couldn't pull away from the trauma, I couldn't overcome my instinct to shut down.

Katniss somehow wrestled my statue-like body onto my bed, wrapping my blankets around me. I was actually screaming, because my throat felt hoarse. They subsided into low, whimpering moans, my eyes screwed shut. Katniss was desperately clutching my hand, and stroking my hair. I could feel her shaking, too. I calmed down quicker than I used to, and I was sitting up five minutes later, but still trembling. Katniss stared down at me, and I knew what she was going to suggest even before she said it.

"You need to shower…the water won't hurt you, I promise. I'll stay with you." Katniss promised. I knew she would, it wasn't that I didn't trust her, it wasn't that I didn't trust the water, I just didn't trust myself. And I told her that.

"I know…but after two months of being shocked every time water touches you…traumatic responses last longer than non traumatic." I informed her. "I know I'm safe here, living with the rodent people, but it's just a reaction that I can't fight, and if I'm in the shower, with water hitting all of me, I might struggle harder, and I don't want to hurt you." I pleaded. She nodded and pulled off her shirt and pants, so she was wearing just athletic underwear.

"Small steps, then." She said. I gave her an alarmed look and she laughed. "Don't get any idea's, brainless." I cracked a smile at that.

"Then what are you implying then, if your stripping was not indicating you coming on to me?" I teased, feeling relaxed.

"Well, you sit outside my shower while I wash. In the same room." Katniss said. I looked at her. "And you might get a little damp from steam, or any droplets I get on you while I get out." I wrapped the blanket tighter around me. I didn't want to do this, not at all. But I had to.

"Okay." I said, standing. Katniss met my eyes and smiled slightly.

"Okay…" She said. I settled down on the toilet, which was right next to the shower and Katniss prepared to finish stripping. She locked her grey eyes to my brown. "Don't look," She teased, smirking. I looked at her unwaveringly.

"Now we both know you don't mean that." I smirked, watching her undress, and step in the shower. However, I didn't look at her body, I kept my eyes on her face. I felt that I should at least respect her wishes if she's willing to take on such a load me.

"Hey Johanna," Katniss called after a few minutes.

"Yes, Brainless?" I responded. I had been sitting there, taking shuddering breathes, and was relieved to hear her speak. It calmed me down. I was hoping my old responses to her, talking to her like I did before the real trauma, it would help bring back my old self.

"You said that my stripping evidently implied that I was coming on to me…so, then what does that mean about when you stripped in front of us in the elevator. Was it for Haymitch? Or Peeta?" I laughed and didn't answer.

This ritual of me sitting next to the shower continued every day for a few weeks, until one day Katniss made it bad.

"Time for you to shower." She had already stripped down to her sports underwear and was staring at me expectantly. I shook my head.

"No, I can't, I can't…" I muttered, backing away. She turned towards me but didn't approach me.

"Yes you can, I'll help.
"Katniss, you've really done enough for me, I'll be fine." I insisted. That struck her. She was directly in front of me instantly, grabbing my wrists and forcing my arms against my side. I was suddenly afraid, terrified, she would hurt me, shock me. She sensed this and let go, putting her hands on my shoulders.

"You would've never been tortured if it weren't for me. Never reaped, never captured, if it weren't for me, and you knew so much and didn't say anything, and they tortured you for it. I will never stop owing you."

It was in that moment that I realized I was so unfortunately captivated by, and infatuated with Katniss.

"Now come one, I'll shower with you." She said, striding towards the bathroom.

"My, my, the little Mockingjay's exploring her interests?" I teased. She laughed.

"Keep you're sports bra and spandex on, Mason." She ordered.

The shower was bad. Really bad. I tried running, but Katniss wouldn't allow it. She pinned me against the wall, inadvertently scaring me more. I struggled vainly to get out of her grasp, realizing that the current source of my terror was my lack of control. I couldn't move.

"Katniss—" I hissed out. "You're making it worse!" but she didn't hear me. I had to yell, after four tries, for her to release the arm lock she had on me. For the rest of the shower I sat there crying, while Katniss washed me. I kept saying sorry to her for making her do this, my eyes screwed shut, right up until she forced a towel-clad me under the covers of my bed (I don't remember walking there, she had to have carried me, not like I'm much weight anymore.) She slapped me across the face, an action, might I say, that is long overdue.

"Shut up, Mason. And go to sleep." She snapped, crossing her arms above me and scowling. What I said next was totally unexpected for both of us, once more bringing up the infamous elevator night.

"This was fun, let's do it again sometime." I said, winking at her. She laughed and turned away, walking towards her bed.

"Yes, let's do it again." She chuckled in the dark.

And that was when I realized I loved Katniss.

So by comparison of that delightful time, her buttoning my shirt was nothing. I dropped my arms away from my sides, my shirt falling open. Katniss carefully appraised my scars and bruises, before carefully buttoning my shirt. I forced myself not to flinch as her knuckles hit a ticklish spot on my stomach.

She stopped, suddenly, having stopped buttoning my shirt just below my breasts and I wondered if she became uncomfortable.

"Katniss, are you okay?" I asked. Her gaze was lowered, refusing to meet mine, staring intently at—

"How'd you get these?" She asked, pointing to four long, equally spaced, horizontal scratches across my throat. "I never noticed them before."
"My hair hid them, and I always had my head down." I explained evasively.

"That's the answer to a question I never asked." She said bitterly.

"Look at me," I commanded, making her grey eyes snap from the scars to my face. "What do they look like, Brainless? Scratch marks. I was in so much agony—and I knew I was only going to endure more—and I could hear poor Peeta screaming, I couldn't take it, I tried clawing my throat out, but they'd clipped my nails. I broke skin, but not enough to die." I spat, furious. Not at Katniss for asking, and not at myself for doing what I'd done, but at Snow for making me do it.

"I'm glad it wasn't deep enough," Katniss whispered. She leaned forward and gently kissed my neck, where the scars were, and I felt as if my stomach had been zapped, but not the tortuous kind.

"You shouldn't have done that," I half whispered into her ear, before she even had a chance to pick up her head.

"Why?" She asked, puzzled. I had to do it. I had to do it now. She could die in the next few days.

I kissed her, soft and gentle, then drew back.

"Because, I'm in love with you," I said simply, sitting lamely on my bed. "I'm sorry, that was wrong, but I had to…I don't know, there are so many things going through my head, and I just needed to do that." I said hastily. "Don't think to much of it, you love Peeta," I said.

"I don't think I do anymore." She muttered, sitting next to me on my bed.

"Yes you do. He hurt you, but you love him. You think you don't love him because he isn't himself. So you don't love who he is now…but the version of him Snow made is fading, Katniss….Eventually he'll be the cliché romantic, willing to do anything to save your life. Eventually he'll be the boy who loves you, and the boy you love. I promise."

Katniss stared sadly at me, then, shockingly, leaned forward and kissed me. She drew back after a moment and locked my gaze.

"I'm sorry it's wrong, and I'm sorry I'm kissing you for all the wrong reasons, but please, humor me." She asked.

I humored her, much to my own misery. I felt her lips press against mine, soft and gentle. We got a rhythm going, and she slid her tongue into my mouth, forcing mine to action as they slid against each other. Her hand was against my collarbone, over the scars, fingers scraping softly on my neck. It was wrong. I broke away, my chest clenched.

"You're right, Katniss. It is wrong. But I can't, I can't humor you. Because everything about this is so wrong. You love Peeta, and you're using me just because you miss the intimacy you had with him. And something else that's wrong is somehow in this twisted, fucked up time, I've fallen for you and it sucks because you USED me, and we won't be together, because soon Peeta will be himself and you'll go home with him, because I don't deserve to be happy, and that's just how it is supposed to be and…I'm sorry…good luck, Katniss. Shoot straight." I spit out before pivoting out the door. My hands have stopped trembling and I manage to button my last few buttons on my shirt. I went to Finnick to bid farewell and wish him luck. He made me promise to take care of Annie if he didn't come back, and I did. But he'd be back, I knew it. Finnick was too good to be bested by the Capitol.

There was a large gathering of people too see the team off in the hangar, but I stayed in the launch room, watching the camera feed. I watched an anxious Peeta looking solemnly around, before his eyes came to rest on Katniss.

He had to pull through for her. He had the strength to revert back to himself, he had to.

Katniss' gaze flicked around the crowd, her expression almost unreadable, but I could see a hint of frustration and sadness, and somehow I knew she was looking for me. Finnick had a similar look underneath his beaming grin at Annie. I knew I should say goodbye, they were my friends. My only friends. But I couldn't.

I wish I had.

I couldn't even be in the launch room when they came home. I couldn't bear to see the depleted team of Peeta, Gale, and Katniss stumble in. I couldn't bear to look at them without Finnick.

At least I said goodbye to him.

I should visit Katniss in the hospital, and console her since Prim died. But I couldn't. I was too selfish.

So I waited until the night Annie and I left. We both thought it was best to not tell people we were leaving. Only Haymitch. Before I left my room I grabbed Katniss' personal items out of her drawer and went to the hospital room, where she was heavily sedated. I laid out her pin on the table. I hung Peeta's locket around her neck, gently lifting her head. It had a picture of Gale, Katniss' mother, her and Prim inside. I picked up the small pearl Peeta had given her and placed it in her burnt hand, gently squeezing her hand shut. Lastly, I took the small bundle of pine she had given me and sniffed it one last time before placing it in her lap. Keeping it would hurt too much, for too many reasons.

And I left.

It was all I could afford in means of goodbye to my last living friend. She's know it was from me. It wouldn't suffice, not at all, she would be furious. But that was the point. It needed to be "Goodbye." Not "until next time." She needed to know never to contact me again. I couldn't have it.

I had asked Haymitch to tell her I died, drowned myself in in District Four, or jumped off the train, or something.

I couldn't deal with any reminder of the past few months, aside from Annie. I needed to restart.

So I slipped quietly out of the room and onto the train that would take Annie and I to District Four. I gave up trying to be strong and let the sobs rack my body as I left behind the only place that caused me more emotional trauma than the Capitol ever had, Annie sitting silently across from me, hands on her stomach, tears falling softly down her face.

The End.

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