Stump Graveyard

Andrella07

Rated: M (language, tw: suicide, tw: death)

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

Another one-shot that could turn into more if I feel like it later (but I'd rather do a full length fic, just waiting for inspiration). All mistakes are mine. Enjoy (the story... not the mistakes...). Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

There's something so satisfying about the sound of an axe wedging its way into a tree. It takes muscle and leverage to hear the right kind of thwack where the head has sliced its way past the bark and dug right into the pulp. Very unlike burying an axe in human flesh, where hitting a bone will snap it in two, and the blade slides right through the meat. People have all that mush on the outside, and it makes Johanna Mason sick. Why should the strongest part of themselves be on the inside?

It's another marvelous day in District 12, and while most of the natives are occupied with building things back up, Johanna's busy destroying them this morning. She's been in this part of the woods before, where quick feet take her far away from Katniss' usual hunting grounds. Swinging away, she's out to add another stump to the carnage in the forest around her.

The hundred-foot tall beast in front of her is solid oak. Good for flooring; or furniture; or pure, seething rage. There's a joke in there somewhere about Johanna seeking out hardwood when she's uppity, but Finnick isn't around to make it, so there's no point in laughing. Chopping down trees is what she likes to do when she gets in one of her moods. Her head doctor would be so proud that she found an outlet, a… what was it called? A coping mechanism. She rather enjoys watching the tree try to cope with her calculated annihilation, as she takes it apart – one chunk, one thin wedge at a time. And she's been saving this tree for a special occasion, because when it finally pops and groans its last, it's going to make the earth shake when it dies.

So many better things than worthless trees have died in the wake of Snow's tyranny, in the Games, in the war. And they didn't make the ground quiver. Certainly, Annie trembled when Finnick lost his life, and Katniss did when Prim lost hers. But as a whole, when was the last time one person's death rattled all of Panem? Rue perhaps? Rue's death didn't do that for Johanna. Her earth had been reverberating for some time on its own.

Another paired off set of swings, another block of tan, stringy fiber at her boots.

Today wasn't even that special really. How does 8:30 in the morning equal special in any way, shape, or form? It's not the anniversary of death for anyone she cared about. It's not historically significant. It's just Tuesday, with Everdeen back home probably making fucking breakfast.

Johanna keeps chopping as sweat trickles down her face. She almost misses being bald; it was admittedly cooler that way. There are no breaks she can take that will give her the same kind of reprieve as taking down this tree, so she doesn't stop for anything. When did she ever stop to accommodate anyone, let alone herself?

She's halfway through the tree, but any lumberjack worth their shit knows halfway will literally not cut it. The strong, old tree needs another good push like Snow needed an axe in his back years ago. Despite his death, his grip on the world around her remains. Johanna sees him more than she would like in the faces of people still afraid to travel between districts. She sees him in old Peacekeeper helmets that some folks like to keep as trophies. She hears his voice every time someone says the word 'war' aloud. War, terrible war.

If she were the Mockingjay she would have had a message for Snow:

Fuck you, today. Fuck you, tomorrow. Fuck you, forever.

But she wasn't the precious face of the revolution. Introduce one: Katniss Everdeen into her thoughts once again. Everdeen, Brainless, Girl on Fire, Victor, Mockingjay, Traitor, that girl has more monikers than Johanna wants to keep up with. She reminds Johanna of a little bird, and no matter how hard Cinna tried to give her bigger wings, she couldn't fly away from her problems. Little Bird. Johanna would love to see the look on Katniss' face for calling her that. She would probably just say, "That's better than brainless," in that soft, slowly dying voice of hers.

One last, perfect strike and the tree yells, "Johanna!" Wait, that's not right. Trees get kind of groan-y, but they certainly don't holler and call her name.

"Johanna! Finally!"

Its Katniss walking up on the other side of the tree, the side that's destined to smack the ground with such force it just might make Johanna's knees weak. Forget little bird, Katniss is fucking brainless once again. Katniss knows better than to come looking for her when she carries an axe in her hand instead of resting it on her shoulder, or wearing it on her belt like she does when she's actually working.

Johanna throws away her axe and doesn't have the time to register how much it hurts to breathe this hard. But her muscles need the oxygen as she runs to Katniss. Like cables on a bridge Katniss no longer wants to jump off of, the tree snaps and buckles under a combination of its own weight and how much the earth wants to rejoin with the very top.

Comparing Johanna to a train wouldn't be too unfair at this point, but the last bit of strength she needs to knock Katniss out of the way of the falling giant doesn't come from one of those old, coal-powered engines. It comes from someplace else.

Katniss grunting as they collide is the last thing Johanna hears before the earth quakes – just like she wanted.

Panting hard, Johanna feels nothing but the mushy stuff of another person beneath her. Sensing the danger has passed, dark eyes glance over to check if it's truly safe to stand again. The colossus has been felled, and lies not more than six inches away from her foot. That would have hurt. Katniss doesn't even give her the time to get up before she starts yelling again.

"What the fu-" Katniss abruptly stops that question, and Johanna knows it's because Katniss hates giving her pleasure of hearing her curse. "Aren't you supposed to yell 'timber' or something?!"

Katniss should have given in to her newly acquired bad habits without Prim to keep her innocent, because Johanna's laughing either way. "Sure, brainless," she chokes out. Being breathless and laughing isn't helping her composure or her sanity. "But I was enjoying the moment."

The brunette beneath her just looks up in that constant state of perplexion. Sometimes, Johanna swears she can see the gears trying to turn against themselves in Katniss' head.

"Enjoying the moment? Enjoying what, the stump graveyard you've created out here? This used to be a perfectly good part of the forest," Katniss rants. "And you're just leaving the lumber on the ground after cutting it down when you know we can use it in town- and would you get the fuck off of me!"

Johanna's eyebrows disappear into her bangs as unbridled glee continues to pour out of her. Chuckling, she barely manages to shift her weight to other side of Katniss so she can slide off the taller frame under her. She collides with the ground a second later when Katniss gives her a helpful shove. It's not earth-shattering like the tree when she smashes into the dirt and leaves, but the sudden influx of pain as she lands on an upturned stick manages to poke some better sense into her.

Stump graveyard. That's just damn funny. Because it's exactly what this place is.

Katniss gets to her feet, but she leaves her friend behind – because despite the past, in the present they are friends. It's timid and confusing at the worst of times, but when it's passionate and semi-rude, it's at its best. The brunette wipes herself off and doesn't offer a hand up to the girl that just saved her life. Again. Instead, Johanna is assaulted with more of Katniss' unique brand of fire.

"Is this where you come when you walk off mad?"

Johanna sits up and decides to stay like that. She's too tired for anything, except picking a bone with Katniss. She'll always have energy for that. "Better than going down to the river and throwing myself in."

That statement is by far one of the meanest things Johanna Mason has ever said. Even she knows it when Katniss turns to look at her and shakes her head. Johanna can see that Katniss is one more negative thought away from storming off, so she stands and takes Katniss' hand to keep her in place. Katniss thinks too much for one person. She feels too much, as well.

Physical comfort was never Johanna's strong suit, but when she moved in with Katniss she learned to be good at it. It's not hard, really. Holding a hand is all she has to do to keep Katniss from running away. Tucking a lock of hair behind Katniss' ear is all it takes to make her stop and realize how the world has changed for the better. Holding her at night is what keeps most of the awful nightmares away. And kissing her… Kissing her usually makes her smile.

Most of that mushy crap is mutual to a lesser and, at the same time, more extreme extent. Katniss' near suicide still makes Johanna panic and kiss her harder than she means to.

This time, its Johanna's fault that her kiss isn't gentle like Katniss enjoys. She reminded them both of the icy dip, but their mouths and their tongues are still warm. With her free hand on the side of Katniss' face, she feels a hand reach around her wrist and clamp down with gusto. Sometimes, Katniss does like it rough.

When they finally part, Katniss grins.

And that's why she's out here today. Because when they woke up this morning, tangled in each other, Katniss looked at her first, only her – and she smiled. Katniss smiled without Johanna doing any of the ridiculous things she was fond of doing. No trading of insults, no jokes. She didn't even get to the kiss girl and that look of total adoration appeared on her sleepy face.

Yeah, today is special. Today she loves Katniss Everdeen.