Ablution (The Hunger Games, Johanna/Annie)
Second of the Valentine's reposts, and after that it's back to work on everything in the backburner. Everything in the backburner.
...hoo boy that's a lot of stuff back-burning.
Title: Ablution
Author: puella_nerdii
Fandom: The Hunger Games
Characters/Pairing: Johanna, Annie (with hints of Johanna/Annie if you're looking for them)
Wordcount: ~1300
Rating: PG-13, mostly for language.
Spoilers: Through the end of Mockingjay.
Summary: Living in District 4 makes it hard to avoid the water. But maybe Johanna can make some kind of peace with it. Maybe. Written for the Be My Valentine event at hungergamesland.
This, Johanna thinks, is why kids shouldn't learn to walk until they have some fucking idea of where they're walking off to.
"Seanan!" she shouts. "Seanan, get back here!"
Nothing. Nothing but rolling echoes of Annie shouting the same thing, the gulls squawking, the tide crashing into the shore. That last one still sets her teeth on edge even after months in District 4. It's this niggling in the back of her head that never goes away, that there's this giant dark thing yards from her house, cold and sucking and deep and creeping closer and closer to the shore. Annie lied. There is no dry land in District 4. Everything stinks of the sea, and everyone gets drawn back into it.
Is that where Seanan is?
Johanna swears a blue streak that would've made her daddy proud and jogs closer to the shore, scans the scrub on the dunes first because at least that looks a little like home. "Seanan?" But there's no answer, and sand crumbles down the slopes, wiping away any footprints that might've been there. They should get a dog, she thinks. Teach it Seanan's scent so it can chase after him for a change, fetch him home before Annie completely freaks out. Kids are such inconsiderate little shits.
She reaches the top of the dunes. Stares down. Swallows.
Seanan's toddling on the shore, all right, clapping when the waves wash up around his ankles. The water wraps around him, and if Johanna squints she can see the furrows around his feet from where the ocean's dragged him in deeper. She starts to call his name again, but her voice locks in her throat, the same way her legs are locked in place. Who the hell raises a kid in a place like this? Sure, the forests in 7 aren't all fun and games but they're not this, they're not endless, they don't swallow the sky and ground and everything in between --
-- and this time when the waves pull back, they pull Seanan with them.
Johanna sprints down the beach faster than she's run in years, faster than she's run since her Games maybe, and dives for Seanan, clutches him to her chest. The water surges to meet her and the same current that caught him reaches for her, sucks at her ankles, but she remembers Annie saying run parallel to the shore and does. Running through the surf feels like taking one step back for every two forward but if there's no other way to do it, she'll work with what she's got. The cold of the water hits her like a slap and the salt stings like a shock and for a second she can't see the sky at all, just high gray walls --
No. No. It's fucking water and she's not going to let the fucking water take anyone else away.
She surges to her feet and holds Seanan over her head and speeds away, runs until every muscle in her legs screams at her to stop. She doesn't stop. She doesn't stop until the sand under her feet feels more solid, doesn't sag or try to stick her in deeper. Seanan's laughing, cooing Jo at her and she's so glad he doesn't have any water in his lungs that she can't scold him.
Johanna breathes. If she's soaked clean through, why are her lungs on fire?
"Seanan?"
Annie's running towards them, scooping Seanan up and cooing things to him that Johanna's too numb to make out. Water's dripping from her hair, the tips of her nose and fingers. Her back's to the ocean. Why did she turn her back to the ocean? She should move. She should leave. She should run and never come back.
"Johanna?" Annie takes her hand, shifts Seanan to her hip.
"I'm fine," she snaps. "My clothes are ruined and I smell like dead fish. Why shouldn't I be fine?"
"Thank you," Annie says.
"Yeah." She clears her throat. The water's still pooling around her ankles. "Well."
Slowly, Annie leads her higher up on the shore, sits her down at the line where the surf thins out.
"It almost killed him," she says.
"But it didn't."
"If I hadn't been there, it would have."
"But you were."
"How do you people live like this?" she bursts out. "It's awful, it's disgusting and horrible and it gets under your skin..."
Annie waits. Johanna hates it when she does that.
Finally, she says, "Just because it can hurt you doesn't mean it can't heal you, too."
Johanna snorts. It's a wetter sound than she wants it to be. "Yeah. Sure."
Annie looks out over the water again, at something far off. "I fell in love with Finnick when I saw him swim, you know."
"No shit."
"No shit," she confirms, and Johanna has to laugh at the sound of that word coming out of her mouth. Annie blushes and continues. "He wasn't anyone else in the water. Just Finnick. He didn't have to pretend for the ocean."
"Good for him."
"It was." She pauses. "Is that why you're afraid?"
Johanna stares at her. The next wave crashes closer to them, licks at her toes. She shivers.
"Because you don't have to pretend," Annie says.
Johanna aims for a smile and hits something way off-target. "I'm not pretending anything."
"You're pretending not to be hurt."
"Annie, don't turn this into fucking therapy hour, okay?" Seanan stops cooing when she raises her voice like that, but whatever. If that's what it takes to get through all the stupid freaking delusions Annie's built up. "I'm not going to sit around and wallow in it. I hate the kind of assholes who do that. Who cares? I'm alive. I'm stuck being here."
Annie's face falls, and it's not fair how open that is, how clearly the hurt shows up. "You're stuck?"
"Not here here," she says. "Just -- in general. And I'm still wet." She laughs; it's awful and scraping and she wishes she hadn't. "Of all the things, you know? I'm bitching because I'm wet. Isn't that the stupidest thing you've ever heard?"
So stupid. So fucking stupid. Her throat burns worse than the salt on her skin does.
Annie says nothing, just twines her fingers with Johanna and leads her, slowly, into the water. She's crazy. They're both crazy. This is never going to work. Whatever Annie's planning, it's never going to work.
Annie kneels, keeps one arm wrapped around Seanan and tugs Johanna down to join them, and Johanna regrets getting on her knees the moment she's there because it's impossible to get back up, it's trapped her, it's so much bigger than she is and it's not holding anything back and even if she doesn't either it doesn't fucking matter --
She's crying. Fuck. Fuck. Maybe her face is wet enough that Annie won't notice.
She can't even stay upright. Fuck everything.
Annie holds Johanna close against her chest and threads her fingers through Johanna's hair. Normally, Johanna would scoff or roll her eyes, and she really should do that now, but she leans against Annie instead, her chest hitching. Annie doesn't tell her to shush, doesn't tell her she'll be all right, just holds her. Steadies her.
Annie's breathing with the tide.
"I hate this," Johanna chokes out between sobs, "I hate this -- "
"I know," Annie says. "But it's not your fault." She kisses Johanna on the forehead, her lips light. "I never blamed you."
And Johanna cries harder, cries until the ocean washes it all away. I'll hold your secret, it tells her. And I won't tell anyone.
Maybe it's an understanding.
.
...hoo boy that's a lot of stuff back-burning.
Title: Ablution
Author: puella_nerdii
Fandom: The Hunger Games
Characters/Pairing: Johanna, Annie (with hints of Johanna/Annie if you're looking for them)
Wordcount: ~1300
Rating: PG-13, mostly for language.
Spoilers: Through the end of Mockingjay.
Summary: Living in District 4 makes it hard to avoid the water. But maybe Johanna can make some kind of peace with it. Maybe. Written for the Be My Valentine event at hungergamesland.
This, Johanna thinks, is why kids shouldn't learn to walk until they have some fucking idea of where they're walking off to.
"Seanan!" she shouts. "Seanan, get back here!"
Nothing. Nothing but rolling echoes of Annie shouting the same thing, the gulls squawking, the tide crashing into the shore. That last one still sets her teeth on edge even after months in District 4. It's this niggling in the back of her head that never goes away, that there's this giant dark thing yards from her house, cold and sucking and deep and creeping closer and closer to the shore. Annie lied. There is no dry land in District 4. Everything stinks of the sea, and everyone gets drawn back into it.
Is that where Seanan is?
Johanna swears a blue streak that would've made her daddy proud and jogs closer to the shore, scans the scrub on the dunes first because at least that looks a little like home. "Seanan?" But there's no answer, and sand crumbles down the slopes, wiping away any footprints that might've been there. They should get a dog, she thinks. Teach it Seanan's scent so it can chase after him for a change, fetch him home before Annie completely freaks out. Kids are such inconsiderate little shits.
She reaches the top of the dunes. Stares down. Swallows.
Seanan's toddling on the shore, all right, clapping when the waves wash up around his ankles. The water wraps around him, and if Johanna squints she can see the furrows around his feet from where the ocean's dragged him in deeper. She starts to call his name again, but her voice locks in her throat, the same way her legs are locked in place. Who the hell raises a kid in a place like this? Sure, the forests in 7 aren't all fun and games but they're not this, they're not endless, they don't swallow the sky and ground and everything in between --
-- and this time when the waves pull back, they pull Seanan with them.
Johanna sprints down the beach faster than she's run in years, faster than she's run since her Games maybe, and dives for Seanan, clutches him to her chest. The water surges to meet her and the same current that caught him reaches for her, sucks at her ankles, but she remembers Annie saying run parallel to the shore and does. Running through the surf feels like taking one step back for every two forward but if there's no other way to do it, she'll work with what she's got. The cold of the water hits her like a slap and the salt stings like a shock and for a second she can't see the sky at all, just high gray walls --
No. No. It's fucking water and she's not going to let the fucking water take anyone else away.
She surges to her feet and holds Seanan over her head and speeds away, runs until every muscle in her legs screams at her to stop. She doesn't stop. She doesn't stop until the sand under her feet feels more solid, doesn't sag or try to stick her in deeper. Seanan's laughing, cooing Jo at her and she's so glad he doesn't have any water in his lungs that she can't scold him.
Johanna breathes. If she's soaked clean through, why are her lungs on fire?
"Seanan?"
Annie's running towards them, scooping Seanan up and cooing things to him that Johanna's too numb to make out. Water's dripping from her hair, the tips of her nose and fingers. Her back's to the ocean. Why did she turn her back to the ocean? She should move. She should leave. She should run and never come back.
"Johanna?" Annie takes her hand, shifts Seanan to her hip.
"I'm fine," she snaps. "My clothes are ruined and I smell like dead fish. Why shouldn't I be fine?"
"Thank you," Annie says.
"Yeah." She clears her throat. The water's still pooling around her ankles. "Well."
Slowly, Annie leads her higher up on the shore, sits her down at the line where the surf thins out.
"It almost killed him," she says.
"But it didn't."
"If I hadn't been there, it would have."
"But you were."
"How do you people live like this?" she bursts out. "It's awful, it's disgusting and horrible and it gets under your skin..."
Annie waits. Johanna hates it when she does that.
Finally, she says, "Just because it can hurt you doesn't mean it can't heal you, too."
Johanna snorts. It's a wetter sound than she wants it to be. "Yeah. Sure."
Annie looks out over the water again, at something far off. "I fell in love with Finnick when I saw him swim, you know."
"No shit."
"No shit," she confirms, and Johanna has to laugh at the sound of that word coming out of her mouth. Annie blushes and continues. "He wasn't anyone else in the water. Just Finnick. He didn't have to pretend for the ocean."
"Good for him."
"It was." She pauses. "Is that why you're afraid?"
Johanna stares at her. The next wave crashes closer to them, licks at her toes. She shivers.
"Because you don't have to pretend," Annie says.
Johanna aims for a smile and hits something way off-target. "I'm not pretending anything."
"You're pretending not to be hurt."
"Annie, don't turn this into fucking therapy hour, okay?" Seanan stops cooing when she raises her voice like that, but whatever. If that's what it takes to get through all the stupid freaking delusions Annie's built up. "I'm not going to sit around and wallow in it. I hate the kind of assholes who do that. Who cares? I'm alive. I'm stuck being here."
Annie's face falls, and it's not fair how open that is, how clearly the hurt shows up. "You're stuck?"
"Not here here," she says. "Just -- in general. And I'm still wet." She laughs; it's awful and scraping and she wishes she hadn't. "Of all the things, you know? I'm bitching because I'm wet. Isn't that the stupidest thing you've ever heard?"
So stupid. So fucking stupid. Her throat burns worse than the salt on her skin does.
Annie says nothing, just twines her fingers with Johanna and leads her, slowly, into the water. She's crazy. They're both crazy. This is never going to work. Whatever Annie's planning, it's never going to work.
Annie kneels, keeps one arm wrapped around Seanan and tugs Johanna down to join them, and Johanna regrets getting on her knees the moment she's there because it's impossible to get back up, it's trapped her, it's so much bigger than she is and it's not holding anything back and even if she doesn't either it doesn't fucking matter --
She's crying. Fuck. Fuck. Maybe her face is wet enough that Annie won't notice.
She can't even stay upright. Fuck everything.
Annie holds Johanna close against her chest and threads her fingers through Johanna's hair. Normally, Johanna would scoff or roll her eyes, and she really should do that now, but she leans against Annie instead, her chest hitching. Annie doesn't tell her to shush, doesn't tell her she'll be all right, just holds her. Steadies her.
Annie's breathing with the tide.
"I hate this," Johanna chokes out between sobs, "I hate this -- "
"I know," Annie says. "But it's not your fault." She kisses Johanna on the forehead, her lips light. "I never blamed you."
And Johanna cries harder, cries until the ocean washes it all away. I'll hold your secret, it tells her. And I won't tell anyone.
Maybe it's an understanding.
.