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KILL FOR YOUR LOVE.

epilogue (sweet dreams, my love)

johanna and juniper's cabin.

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JOHANNA WAS GROUCHY THAT she was now old. Juniper didn't mind it much. In fact, now in her elderly state, it had garnered her a new peace that she didn't think she would have before. Now that she was well in age, she wasn't expected to do much. She wasn't expected to go anywhere, not that she had left Seven since she arrived that rainy night. She wasn't expected to listen to anyone, not that she did before. And it meant that, with no-one bothering them, she could at least spend time with Johanna. 

Their days consisted of waking up in the same bed, curled around each other's frail frames. The morning sun would shine through the open red, cotton curtains, bouncing on whatever reflection it could. Birds would be chirping, depending on the season, and the two elderly women would lay in the thick, embroidered sheets until one of them had enough energy to get up. It was usually Johanna. 

They would get dressed slowly as their joints and muscles ached from age, not from torture. Juniper would decide if a cardigan was necessary by seeing how much the trees swayed within the wind and knowing District Seven, it was always necessary. Johanna, however, would ignore her partner's advice and would wear whatever she wanted to. Of course, later on in the day, she would clamber upstairs to retrieve a sweater. 

Once the two women were both dressed, they would make their way downstairs, grasping the rough handrail as they did in fear of an accident that involved tripping and landing sorely on the squeaky wooden floorboards. Once risk of injury had disappeared, they would turn the corner into the brown and crimson kitchen where breakfast would be well on its way. 

The starting meal of the day varied depending on what mood Juniper and Johanna were in. Some days, it was pancakes in which the former would persuade the latter to make. Other days, it was mere toast they baked on the stove. Few, it was mere cereal grain which had arrived fresh from District Nine. Today, it was that. Grain sprinkled with some sliced fruits, which was Juniper's job. 

Holding a knife in her hand, it didn't terrify her anymore. There wasn't the urge to kill everyone in sight. She wasn't tortured with the flashbacks of her past. Whenever a silver blade was in view, all she would put her healed head to was cutting fruit or vegetables by Johanna's request. They both had moved past those stages in their lives. 

In saying that, the nightmares never left, even in their old age. Even if they were younger, middle-aged, or elderly, the horrors never left them. There were nights where Juniper swore she heard something, opening her eyes to see the skeletal frame of Dr. Clampitt. Other nights, Johanna would wake up panting, Finnick's name falling from her lips. The nightmares never left and they never would, but they had each other. That was enough.

Once breakfast was ready to eat, the couple would normally move out onto the patio out back. They would sit on the sun lounges, staring out into the forest as they ate their meal. Sometimes it was in silence. Other times, bickering and teasing would fill the air. But whatever it was, it was always a highlight of their days. 

If breakfast was small and the two elderly women were still hungry, a snack was considered, though highly rejected by Juniper. If they had snacks, there wouldn't be enough room for lunch and lunch was always wonderful, in her eyes. Johanna would always scoff and say: 

"June, the world isn't going to end if we don't eat lunch. Just get a fucking snack." 

And so, snacks were taken, if breakfast was small. 

Then, the rest of the day was to be determined by the couple, that was until lunch. They rarely left the cabin and if they did, it was only to go to the market to stock up. Today was not that day. Instead, they both settled in their respective chairs in the living room, reading books from the shelves that had been worn-down due to time. The duo had read those pages over and over again and yet, the amusement never left them. 

Sometimes, in the midst of reading, Juniper would catch Johanna staring at the photograph on the mantle. Everything in the cabin was starting to get dusted, but the frame was the one thing they kept clean and polished. And due to this, they could still see the five figures standing in the photo. Johanna would stare at her brothers, Heath and Kai, and her lips would part slightly as if she was remembering something about them, which had proven to be difficult as they grew older. 

That was one thing Juniper was jealous about. Johanna had a picture of her brothers and parents and could easily make out their faces. She could retell their voices simply by staring at the photo and could remember any stories about them. Juniper didn't have that luxury. 

Every time she tried to remember Justice's face, his eyes seemed a tad too big or his nose stuck out too much. Whenever she thought of Finnick, his hair was a different colour and his figure was too short and bulky. Juniper tried hard to remember her brothers, tried hard to recall their faces, but it always seemed to leave her. And their voices. And the stories. Every now and then, she could remember things Finnick had told her, but because of her age, she wondered if her healed mind had made it up or if it was true. 

("I'm always on your side, June," Finnick said, clutching her hand tighter. "Always.")

Sometimes, Juniper would remember people in her life and wonder where they were now. Some of them had to be dead like Aurelius, or Haymitch, or Beetee. Even Plutarch, perhaps. Some still were alive, possibly, like Lucy, or Peeta, or Katniss. Her bandaged heart twinged at the thought of them, at the thought she was never going to see them again. But then she would look over the brim of her book to see Johanna and she would swiftly forget about them. 

Once their reading time was up, the elderly couple would move back into the kitchen at the sound of their stomachs rumbling. Johanna was always determined to make sandwiches for them whilst Juniper would make soup in the corner. A good few minutes would pass and then the duo would sit at the counter, eating their sandwiches and dipping it into the red liquid. This was where conversations shined. There was no silence, like there was during breakfast. 

Despite Johanna and Juniper locking themselves away from the outside world, despite only ever seeing each other and no-one else, conversations were never dull. There was never an awkward gap or a pause. Bickering and teasing, compliments and affection. All of it filled their chats and it never failed to bring a smile to either one's face. 

Over the years, letters started to pile up. In the spare room, there was a cardboard box filled with unopened envelopes. They were all addressed to Johanna, considering no-one knew where Juniper was now, which was the way she wanted it to be. They didn't open them, they had no reason to and nor the urge to. Whatever people had to say, it was in the past and the two women were quite happy by themselves. 

They were quite happy being the ghosts of Victors' Village. 

Once lunch was finished, the rest of the day was theirs. Sometimes, they would walk through the forest or down the lantern-lit path that led into the main part of Seven. They were never brave enough to go into the actual district and would always turn around whenever they saw the factories, but they needed to get some exercise due to the fact that they weren't as fit as they were when they were younger. 

Johanna forgets this sometimes. Despite the wrinkles that caress her skin and her swollen joints, she still thinks she's the twenty-one-year-old kid who would come bounding down the stairs and say something snarky. The comments never left, but the fitness did. Johanna would put one foot wrong and groan in pain, bending down with her palm on her lower back. Juniper would watch from the kitchen, smothering her mouth to stop herself from laughing, but a giggle would always move past the softness of her fingers.

"It's not funny, June," the elderly woman would always say as she hissed in pain. "I think I snapped something." 

"Then don't come bounding down the stairs, you idiot." 

In conclusion, Juniper was taking the old age much better than Johanna, which surprised her. When she was younger and in her teen years, she never thought she would even reach the ripe age of seventy-four. The idea was preposterous as you would never see someone that old in the districts. If you did, you would congratulate the person on living such a long life and ask what their secret was. But Juniper was seventy-four now and that was something she had to deal with. She had dealt with change a lot in her life and knew how to accept it. 

("The first step to overcoming that blame and guilt does not involve constantly brooding over it, killing yourself over it. Not sleeping because of it," the doctor continued. "You need to accept that mistake, whatever you made, without any rationalisation. What is done, is done. Mistakes are made to learn from them and if you don't, then you will continue to suffer until you make the corrections. Do you understand what I'm saying?")

Johanna, however, didn't want to. She still wanted to be that twenty-one-year-old kid. She didn't want to have wrinkles. She didn't want to have arthritis in her knees. She didn't want to become old. She didn't want to become useless, immobile. Her entire life, she had been swinging axes and doing manual labour. What was she supposed to do now that was all gone due to the natural way of life?

But then she would see Juniper's smile, which hadn't changed even after all these years, and she would forget her troubles. She would do anything to make breakfast, read books, and bicker with the woman she loved, even if it meant giving up her old habits. Everything didn't seem worth it compared to Juniper Hale. 

(You are the reason why the rebellion went the way it did and despite everything, I would do it all over again to get this outcome.")

Yes, Juniper and Johanna would do it all over again to get this outcome. To live alone in the cabin and fight, make sandwiches and soup, read dusted books, stare at the photograph on the mantle. All the killing, all the murders, all the Games, all of the war. They would do it all over again if it led to this outcome. If it led to them being together. 

Yes, there were times where they would wonder what they could have done differently. Johanna would wonder what would have happened if she didn't kill Cashmere Nicholo. Juniper would wonder what would have happened if Finnick didn't die. But, in the end, none of it mattered. Juniper loved Cashmere Nicholo and Finnick Odair, but they were gone. They were dead and they were never coming back. Johanna, however, was still here and by the looks of it, wasn't going anywhere. That was enough for her. 

Once they had finished their walks, dinner would become important. Johanna would open all of the windows and curtains, allowing the warm air of the evening and the drifting sun rays to enter the cabin, giving them one last chance to intoxicate everything. As she did this, Juniper would get out all of the ingredients for dinner out of the fridge. 

Somedays, dinner would be stew with Johanna teasing that having beef was perhaps too close to home. Juniper would remind her that Seven is her home now and they would move on. Other days, it was pasta made from Nine with a sauce Johanna would concoct. Tonight, it was chicken from Ten and beans from Eleven. The Hale woman would prepare the beans in a steamer whilst the Mason woman would cook the chicken until it was ready. There had been an incident years back where Juniper had given them both food poisoning from her undercooked chicken and so, preparing the meat was now Johanna's job. 

So, with the beans done, Juniper would pour them both a glass of water into clean, pristine cups and set them outside. She would sit on one of the sun lounges, staring up at the evening sky as she smiled at Johanna's slight humming. Juniper could hear her bustling around in the kitchen and would feel her bandaged heart leap. It was moments like these that make her want to keep living. 

Johanna would come out with their steaming hot plates and settle them down on the coffee table that divided the two sun lounges. They would mutter something of a prayer before digging in, surrounded by the evening light and slight chill. This was where Johanna would race upstairs to get a sweater. 

("Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.")

Dinner was quickly eaten and it would be Juniper to suggest desert. It would be Johanna who got it, who is now rummaging through the fridge to find the tubs of ice cream they kept for special occasions. The dessert was fresh from the Capitol and was sweet and soft, just how they liked it, and the two would share the tub with two metal spoons before their stomachs gave way.

Then, the two elderly women would lay on the sun lounges, watching the sun disappear behind the tall redwoods and pines, the sun turning into a canvas of midnight blue and lilac purple. Stars would slowly become dotted and owls would hoot and it was then did the two women decided that enough was enough, getting up slowly with the intention of going to bed. Days like these would tire any old person out. 

And so, Juniper would clean up the dishes whilst Johanna dried up, after putting the ice cream away, and would do this until every porcelain plate and metal cutlery was sufficiently tidied. They would then shut the windows and draw some of the curtains before making their way up the squeaky stairs, bracing themselves on the rough yet worn-down handrail as the risk of injury returned. 

Once safe, the two would sigh and bumble their way down to their bedroom that was at the end of the hall. The bed would be unkempt, just like they had left it in the morning and their night routines would take place. Johanna would shower (it took her a long time to even set foot in the shower, and even now, her partner could see the hesitance within her) and change whilst Juniper shimmed her shoes off. And then she would shower and put on soft pyjamas that suited her wrinkly skin. Then, they would both settle into bed, just like they were doing now. 

"You know," Johanna says. 

"Know what?" 

"That was a very good day."

"Indeed," Juniper replies, a soft smirk playing on her lips. "Goodnight, Jo." 

"Night, June." 

A soft, sweet kiss is shared as the lights turn off with a simple flick. They're now emerged by darkness as they wriggle into the sheets, eyes close as their breaths start to even out. 

("No." Aurelius shook his head as he dropped his hand. "Live freely. Live contentedly. And live peacefully... that's all I ask of you... happiness is something you must find yourself. Something I mustn't ask of you. Something you must ask and find.")

Juniper Hale may not remember much due to her old age, but she can remember what Dr. Aurelius told her in the past. She can remember, vaguely, their encounter at the Capitol train station before she left him forever. She can remember their conversation. 

Aurelius had told her to live freely, to live contentedly, to live peacefully. She questioned him, saying shouldn't he say live happily? He shook his head and dropped his hand, saying no. All he asks of her is to live free, live contentedly, and live peacefully. Happiness is something she must find herself. Something he mustn't ask of her. Something she must ask and find. 

And it was times like now, as she lay in the darkness thinking of Aurelius's words, that she wishes she could see his exhausted, wrinkly face once more. She wishes she can see him one last time, if he was still alive, to let him know that she was happy. She is happy. That was all Aurelius asked of her and she has done just that. 

She deserves this. 

She's with Johanna, the woman she loves. She's olden into the ripe age of seventy-four, a feat she never thought she could accomplish. She's in a wonderful home, though she does do a mental note to dust tomorrow as she saw the state of some of the shelves and they look horrendous. 

And no-one can touch her. 

Snow is dead. Coin is dead. Clampitt is dead. Orion Hale is long gone. Katniss Everdeen is in Twelve, that is if she were still alive. And the Hunger Games are over, the arenas destroyed. The rebellion finished, the war done. 

("Until one wins..." Aurelius nodded. "But really, does one ever win in war?")

(Snow smiled. "Then yes... the war hasn't finished just yet.")

(But the point of Katniss's arrow shifted upwards. She released the string. And President Coin collapsed over the side of the balcony and plunged to the ground. Dead. President Snow laughing)

(The Victor from Twelve was too stubborn to do things how they were supposed to be done. Too blunt. Too bitingly cynical)

She is safe. She is content. She is at peace. And so, Juniper Hale takes a big breath and lets out a sigh, going into a sleep that only consists of sweet dreams. 

She never wakes up.