Oh, The Hunger Games. I couldn't resist writing a little something for one of my all-time favorite trilogies! Enjoy :D

General Disclaimer:

The characters in this story don't belong to me – though I often wish they did – but are copyrighted to their respective owners so, let me make it clear that I will make no profits off of any of these stories. So, you know, please don't sue me.

Personal Disclaimer:

If you don't like The Hunger Games trilogy, Joniss aka JohannaxKatniss, or girlxgirl pairings in general than read no further. You've been warned in an effort to save both your time and mine.

Oh, and please remember that there is a difference between a critical critique and a flame.

So, now that all of the unpleasantness is out of the way, please enjoy Insomnia

Johanna couldn't sleep. But it wasn't for lack of trying.

Every time she closed her eyes, her ears rang with the echoes of the capitals citizenry and their praising screams. The Quarter Quell. The Hunger Games of Champions.

It was sick. It was wrong. And it was all because of one girl.

She sat up in bed, kicking her blankets away from her as her head found her hands and she took a deep, shuddering breath. God, she hated it here. This house of death was too orderly, to clean. It had always been that way, as far as she knew. It had been like that before…

She pressed her palms against her closed lids, hoping to block the pain that bubbled near the surface. Those memories were best left in the past. Hell, all of her memories were best left in the past.

It was this place, this…event; it was all starting to get to her.

The old training, the old strategy, it should have made her the old Johanna. The one who knew when to kill, how to kill, who to kill. Instead, she was this one. The one who was supposed to…she trailed off, her thoughts back on Haymitch and the few words he'd spoken:

'Do whatever it takes,' he'd said. 'You have to save her.'

And there it was. Her. The true bane of her sleep, the child all of this was for…

Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire.

Her name hit her mind like a shot of adrenaline, forcing her hand to her chest as she bit back a gasp. The old Johanna wouldn't have had this problem, she couldn't help but think. She had known better than to trust in anything, in anyone. She certainly wouldn't have let herself fall…

She shook her head, cutting the thought off before it could voice itself in earnest. But she couldn't truly stop it anymore than she could the image swimming before her eyes. A flash of dark hair and chocolate brown eyes, eyes that had pierced her soul with the briefest of glances. It had all made sense then, in that moment. The reason the entirety of the capital and even Snow himself were out for her blood. There was something inside her. Something…fiercely proud and almost unbelievingly pure. Something they would do anything to stamp out.

Hope.

It radiated from her every movement and dripped from her every word. Whether she'd meant to or not, she'd become far more than a Tribute, more than a Victor; she was a symbol, a living, breathing sign of rebellion and redemption and freedom.

…or maybe that's just what she was for her.

She groaned. What she was was killing her. To think that someone so young, so damned innocent, could take her heart so easily…it was almost enough to make her consider throwing her life in the arena.

She would never do that, of course. Johanna Mason was a fighter. And now, with not only her life but her life in her hands, she would fight all the harder. Even if it took all of her, Katniss would walk away from the Quarter Quell alive, though admittedly a little worse for wear. And, though she was loathe to admit it, the thought of hurting her, even if it was to save her…did not sit well. Which was, more than anything, the real reason sleep was proving to be her most worthy adversary to date.

She sighed. It was out of her hands now. And she knew it had to be done, that her part needed to be played for the plan to work. And it would work; they'd make it work. Because they all knew the score, what was really at stake. Everyone except her, of course, but that was essential. She'd never accept it, would never allow so many people to put themselves in danger for her.

Because she wasn't special.

If only she knew…

Johanna shook her head and forced herself to lie back down. Pulling the blankets up and wrapping them around herself, she urged her mind to settle. She'd need the rest; soon enough she'd be back in the arena, face to face with the girl who had the potential to be both her destruction and her saving grace.

And, the last thing she thought before sleep took her, was that she wasn't sure which she wanted more.

R&R if you please (or if you don't please)