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It's incredibly on-brand that out of the six of them, the only victor Johanna still talks to is the fucking war criminal.
Well, okay, war criminal is kind of a stretch. There are people who genuinely think, even now, that Beetee had been purposely sabotaging the rebellion from the inside out and only switched sides when it benefitted him. And then Prim died, and then Beetee lost the war for public opinion even more because he didn't have the energy to fight it, and it didn't help that Gale is still a national hero. So now he's here in the distant suburbs of Three where no one can find him, in something of a self-imposed exile.
The only thing he does that connects him to his past is this: six months ago, he was contacted by Annie, and then some investigators in Four. They were building a case ahout what happened to Finnick and Cashmere, and they wanted his help.
Johanna is one of the only people who knows he's doing that, though. People think he's a father figure to her, but that's not really it— that implies a level of stability that he definetly does not have. It's more that they've both been such open wounds to each other that they don't have to hide anything, and maybe she needs a release valve.
The best thing about him, though, is that he'll never leave. Because there's nothing she can say to him that he doesn't already believe about himself.
And maybe it was how they had to learn to put up with each other in the arena, or maybe it's that they're such opposing kinds of fucked up, or maybe Johanna just gravitates towards people no one likes.
But now, because they're officially in crazy land where nothing makes sense, they call each other.
They have to video call, though. This is because Johanna is reasonably sure that if he had it his way, Beetee would communicate exclusively through terse emails and (admittedly useful) packages delivered to Johanna's front door. But Johanna needs to see his face, see that he's eating and sleeping and still there.
They keep each other alive. And that's something that goes beyond any actual affinity for each other as human beings.
So when he emails her and tells her to call him because it's important, she picks up.
"They're dropping the case," Beetee says, and Johanna feels like all of it was for nothing.
"What do you mean, they're dropping it? You and Wiress kept all those records, and Annie's been fucking talking to them forever, and...how the hell are they dropping it?"
Johanna sees red, but it's not like she didn't expect it. But that doesn't make it easier.
"Personally, I think too many high-level people were involved and it wasn't worth the cost. Not for nothing, but they're clearly willing to compromise moral purity for the sake of nation-building. They did keep me around."
And he's so detached when he talks about it, and Johanna is sure that's not his fault, but it pisses her off even more. Sometimes she wishes she could be more like him in that way, be so far gone in a dark haze that she isn't really herself
(Johanna once got Finnick very, very drunk on mojitos and asked him how he did it. He had paused for a very long time, and said he goes somewhere else in his mind. Somewhere outside himself.
Beetee's problem is seems to be that he practically lives in that place, that somewhere else. And Johanna knows that, but also knows it's part of why people don't like him at the same time. Because from the outside? It looks like he's not even human).
"Don't make this about you, I, swear to God, I cannot fucking deal with you right now" Johanna says, trying very hard not to throw her tablet at the wall. She knows he's not making it about him, and she always respected him for that. But the words keep coming out in a rush and she can't stop. "Fuck nation-building."
Beetee nods, and opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but Johanna ends the call before he can.
Fuck this whole damn country, she thinks, and grabs a beer from the fridge.