A/N: Even if you could talk to Cato what would you say? Would you apologize for getting yourself beaten in the head by Thresh? Would you tease him? Tell him everything's going to be okay? Maybe it's a good thing you can no longer speak. For once in your life you don't know what to say.

This isn't fair.

Two tributes can survive if they're from the same district. It should be you and Cato. Not those two imbeciles from District Twelve. It's not fair. They haven't trained all their lives for this. They're not as skilled as you. They're not even Careers. It's not fair.

And the worst part is, as you lie there with your pounding headache and Cato holds you in his arms, you can't even speak. You've lost the ability to shoot out smart remarks, and that's not like you. All your life you've always had something to say. Now it seems like you can't even form a coherent sentence.

Even if you could talk to Cato what would you say? Would you apologize for getting yourself beaten in the head by Thresh? Would you tease him? Tell him everything's going to be okay? Maybe it's a good thing you can no longer speak. For once in your life you don't know what to say.

Your eyes are trained on his face. You know you're going to die, and soon. You want his to be the last you see. His beautiful eyes, his defined jaw, his broken smile that is comforting you in your final moments with his low voice like a lullaby makes you want to keep quiet and listen. The boy who makes you speechless has rendered you silent.

"Win for me," you manage to sputter out. At first you think he didn't hear you and you wasted your energy, but he responds and you know it's going to be okay.

"I will," he promises. "I'll win for you." You give him your best smirk and there's a million things going on in your head right now, things you'll never get to tell him, memories you'll never get to share with him. It's not fair. You and Cato should win these Games, not District Twelve. You can see the way that stupid girl looks at Lover Boy. There's no passion. No gleam or sparkle in her eyes. She barely even smile's when she sees him. She doesn't love him the way you love Cato. But somehow she'll get to go home with Lover Boy and you and Cato won't.

It's not fair.

And as breathing and keeping your eyes open becomes a struggle, you simply listen to Cato's voice as he begs you to stay with him. You wish you could. If you could stay by his side forever you would. All those stupid sentimental feelings that make you want to roll your eyes are all you can think of. Cato is all you can process. His strong arms are all of can feel. His scent is all you can smell. His voice is all you can hear.

So now as everything is fading away and Cato's all you can cling to, maybe it's a good thing you can't talk. You can't seem weak, not for a moment. You have to stay strong for him, even with your dying breath, for the boy who makes you speechless.

"I'm going to win for you," he reminds you as he kisses the top of your forehead. "I'm so sorry Clove. This wasn't supposed to happen. I should have protected you. I'm sorry I failed you. I'm so, so sorry." You try to smile. You try to laugh. You want to tell him it wasn't his fault and that he could have never failed you, ever. He's yours, and as you die in his arms, it's irrevocably obvious that you're his. And you should tell him that, so you call to him, but his name barely escapes your lips. Even whispering is difficult but you can't die like this. Not before he knows. You try to tell him something, anything, but you can't.

"Hush," he says, though it's not in a vicious, biting tone. If it were anyone else, you would have bit their head off for telling you to be quiet. But you're not in the arms of just anyone. You're in Cato's arms and when he talks you listen. And it breaks your heart because when he whispers things in your ear, things you can no longer comprehend, you know he'll never know how much he means to you.

The boy makes who makes you speechless will never have any idea the effect he can have.