"Larger than regular wasps, they have a distinctive solid gold body and a sting that raises a lump the size of a plum on contact. Most people can't tolerate more than a few stings. Some die at once. If you live, the hallucinations brought on by the venom have actually driven people to madness."
-The Hunger Games, pg. 185
Convergence
Chapter Twenty-Two
How far are you willing to go to reach someone?
[and what if they can't be reached?]
::
"Tracker jacker venom?"
The words hang in the air, escaping from Prim before she can think of something better to say rather than repeating her sister. She looks down at the green pills scattered across the floor and then back up at Katniss, whom wears a look of disgust on her face.
"What are you talking about?" Prim prompts again, trying to get Katniss to focus on something other than the pills. The older girl's eyes are far away, and Prim can tell that her sister has disconnected from the world around her.
"Katniss, what did you mean?" She pleads for a third time. "Answer me!"
The desperation within her sister's voice seems to snap Katniss out of the place she's gone to in her head. She blinks, concentration broken. She looks at Prim as if surprised to still see her there, and her little sister stares back as equally confused, if not more so. The staring contest does not last long. Katniss heads abruptly for the closet, and Prim hears her rustling around in there for a moment before she emerges again. She holds a broom in her hands, her fingers tight around the handle.
"Here, please take this." Katniss says, her words clipped. "Do me a favor and sweep them up, okay? Don't get rid of them yet, Mom may want to look. Dump them back in a container and put them somewhere out of the way for now. Don't touch them."
"But why would there be tracker jacker venom in Cato's pills?" Prim asks, demanding answers. She's unable to keep up with her sister's thought process, and it's making her anxious. "I don't understand."
"I don't know why," Katniss says, the tone of her voice agitated. "But it's not good. It's not good at all."
Prim tilts her head, comprehension dawning from the way her sister is acting. "You had this happen to you in the Games, right? You were stung by the tracker jackers too."
"Yes."
"Didn't they make you...?"
"Hallucinate, yes." Katniss answers absentmindedly, her thoughts racing faster than her mind can keep up. "Crap. Hallucinate."
"Katniss?"
But her sister is still a million miles away, her gaze distant and unfocused. "That has to be why. It makes sense now."
"What does?" Prim asks, concerned. She approaches the older girl carefully, as if not to startle her. "Katniss?"
"That's why—no wonder he thought he was—" Her voice trails off for a moment, and then continues. "Well, that would explain Clove, wouldn't it?"
"Wasn't Clove the other District 2 tribute? What does she have to do with anything?"
"You'd be surprised," Katniss says mirthlessly. There's a feeling growing under her skin that stinks of nerves and dread. It has taken root, spreading faster than she can give it reason. Her eyes refocus on her sister before flickering towards the window. Several of the Victor's Village houses can be seen from where they stand, and Cato's house is included among them.
"Prim, can you go to Haymitch after you clean up the pills? Let him know what happened?" The feeling inside her hisses to go. get out. go NOW.
"S-sure. But what am I supposed to tell him?"
"Just to meet me at Cato's house, as quick as he can. Thanks." Katniss drops a kiss on top of her sister's head. "I'll be back."
This instantly makes the younger girl worry. "Where are you going?"
Katniss, who is already heading out of the kitchen, looks back in surprise at the question. "Cato's. I have to tell him about the pills." There's an urgency within her bones, the one that's demanding for her to hurry. That feeling snarls its frustration at the detainment Prim's many questions are causing. too long. too late!
"But that could be dangerous! Tracker jacker venom is a big deal. We don't know what it's been doing to him. He's been taking those pills for months."
"Then it's a good thing we took his last bottle away, right?" Katniss says, hoping to reassure her sister. Her nerves are causing a volatile churning within her stomach, urging her to hurry hurry hurry. "I'll be okay. I have to make sure that he knows, that's all. Just in case he finds any extra bottles he might have missed before." The anxious feeling is growing ever stronger, careening down her bloodstream and spreading throughout her body. Her blood quietly murmurs run.
"Why not wait for Haymitch?"
"I can't."
There is no explaining the uneasy emotion swelling deep within the most secret parts of her mind. It won't let her relax. She has to go, and go now. No waiting, no side trips. Logically she knows going first to Haymitch would be the smarter choice, especially when she doesn't have any explanation for the urgency that is telling her to move. Let Haymitch know, and then they could go to Cato's house together. But it's not logic that drives her, it's the irrational need teeming through her body to fly out the door.
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! every nerve seems to shriek.
And she doesn't need to know why
she listens
and goes.
::
She rings the door bell and he doesn't answer.
She rings it again.
Nothing.
"Not home, Cato?" Katniss mutters to herself, staring at the door as if it holds the answer to her question. She stands on the porch for several long moments, feeling increasingly like a fool with each second that passes. Berating herself for overacting, she turns away from the door and walks back down the steps. It's possible he could be in town, or off training somewhere near the edge of the woods, wasn't it?
But the feeling that boiled within the pit of her stomach hasn't quieted. It surges up anew, reaching tendrils of unease throughout her body and burying themselves deep within her heart. She can't stop herself from turning her head around one last time as she walks away and it's then she sees it.
The hand visible through the second story window.
Katniss stops dead in her place, staring up towards the startling sight. The hand is pressed against the glass, the palm open and flat, fingers splayed against the pane. There's a pulse that seems to shake the muscles, rattling fingernails against the glass. Katniss winces from the horrid scratching sound the motion surely makes, even though she's not close enough to hear it. The tension seems to radiate through the window as the fingers strain crookedly against the pane. The hand quivers for one long moment before the owner snatches it back, smearing the hand down the length of the glass and then vanishing from view.
The hand is gone, but there's a streak left behind to mar the clarity of the pane. Katniss may be a distance away, but she's close enough to recognize blood when she sees it.
Damn.
The bubbling anxiety brewing in her mind finally bursts, and she doesn't give herself time to think.
Katniss vaults up the steps, taking two at a time. Ignoring the doorbell, Katniss bangs her fist on the door over and over again. "Cato! Open up!" she yells in time between the thumps. Her movement is erratic and hurried. "Open the door!" He doesn't come to the door, but something inside the silent house tumbles down with a crash. The noise is so loud that it almost sounds like an explosion has gone off behind the walls.
The crashing sound continues, each sound going pop! pop! pop! one right after another. Each crash is its own miniature firecracker of sound. She can't see what's going on inside, but the noise of whatever it is cannot be from something good. Biting her lip in frustration, Katniss throws herself forcibly against the door and gives up on knocking. She bruises her shoulder for her troubles, but the door refuses to budge.
A different person, after witnessing what she has, would have taken the opportunity to get as far away as possible. It doesn't occur to her that she should be looking for a way out instead of a way in.
She goes down the stairs a second time, scanning the ground with quick, roving eyes. The grass is kept neatly mowed within the Victor's Village and it doesn't take her long to spot the rock she's looking for. Grasping it tightly in her hand, she returns to the porch and uses the rock to shatter the window next to the door. The glass gives easily, fragmenting upon itself and falling in shards to the floor. Katniss eases her hand through the hole with careful precision, groping for the lock. It takes her several long moments to find it, but then the lock unclicks and her hand is on the doorknob. She twists and the door eases open, almost apologetic for all the trouble its caused her. The crashing noise stops as soon as the door opens. The hallway yawns innocently before her and everything looks to be in place.
It is too quiet to be trusted.
Katniss carefully lets herself inside the house and leaves the door unlocked. She is wary and alert, her senses urging for caution. She has been in enough situations before to know to trust her instincts when they warn her so blatantly of danger.
Her gut says to leave, and to leave now. Katniss proceeds further into the house anyway.
The weight of the knife she keeps hidden in her boot is a comfort against her skin. While she hopes she doesn't have to use it, she's still fully capable to do so when pushed. Katniss walks as silently as possible, wincing every time her feet step upon a creaky board. The house is so still.
Cato's house is similar in style to the Everdeen's own, so Katniss soon nears the edge of the hallway and is within view of the opening to the kitchen. She cautiously peaks her head into the room, but it is empty. Everything seems to be in perfect order, yet Katniss isn't deceived.
Her lips move to mouth the word Cato but puts no sound behind it. She doesn't trust the silent calm. The only noise is the buzzing of her own heart drumming in her ears. Katniss wills to it be quiet since such a thing could get her killed. She edges out of the kitchen, her steps quiet and muffled. She chooses where each of her steps should fall on the wooden floor below in effort to reduce sound. It might prove to be overly cautious, but she won't risk drawing any further attention to herself than necessary.
The sneaking girl treks down the hallway and reaches the edge of the living room, where she stops to take a look inside. Her shrewd eyes take in the moderately intact room, but she's able to pick out what doesn't belong.
There's a towel laying crumpled on the living room couch.
Katniss eases herself into the room, drawing close to the towel. She reaches out a hand and runs her fingers over the soft cotton. The towel is still damp. Thoughts of what Cato would be using the towel for run through her mind, and she can't prevent herself from thinking 'was he using this to dry off after a shower?' The notion causes her to blush. The towel is too small, a washcloth really, to be of any use for drying a body.
Katniss leaves the towel where she found it and proceeds to inspect the rest of the main floor. She finds nothing of interest. Drawing closer to the bottom of the steps, Katniss looks up towards the second floor. There is only one place left to check. The floorboards above her make a hollow creak, as if agreeing with the conclusion. The sound causes shudders to run down her spine. Katniss checks for the fourth time that her knife is on her person and then she begins to climb the stairs. The crashing has stopped, but in its place comes a mumbled, indistinct voice rattling from above. Katniss proceeds slowly, her eyes fixed at the top of stairs. She doesn't know when or if or what could appear at any moment, and she needed to be ready.
Katniss is about halfway up the stairs when the squealing sound of wood against wood echoes from above. The sound is drawn out and loud. It stops only momentarily before there's a giant crash that erupts. It is the loudest one out of them all. Katniss gives up on caution and speeds up the stairs, coming face to face with a closed door. She allows herself a moment to draw a long breath, and then puts a hand on the knob and slowly opens the door.
She expects the worst, but finds nothing awaiting her beyond the door.
Well, that is not exactly true.
Edging the door open allows her a glimpse of a bedroom turned into a disaster zone. There are pill bottles scattered like leaves all over the floor, the door itself hitting one as it opened and causing it to roll into a new resting place. The bed has been slammed against the right wall of the room, the plaster cracked from the force. There are skid marks carved into the wooden floor, suggesting how the bed was roughly hauled across the surface.
The only window within the chamber is directly opposite from where she stands. The sunlight of the day glitters through the glass, turning the bloodstained handprint a brilliant shade of rust red. The figure she spotted earlier is nowhere to be seen, the mumbling voice gone silent.
Katniss takes a step into the room, then another, and then several more. The room remains hushed and gives up none of its secrets. She fully enters inside, surveying the damage with sharp eyes and a hand that's never too far from where she keeps her knife.
There's a blur of movement, a quick rush of air, and the door behind her slams shut.
Katniss spins around, but it's already too late.
Cato stands as a barricade between herself and the door, and he has clearly gone mad.
::
It's not the words he's mumbling rapidly to himself, or the streaks of smeared blood on his temple, or even how his body shrieks of tension that allows her to come to the conclusion that he has lost his mind. It's, as always, the eyes. His pupils are blown wide and sightless, the whites of his eyes crinkled with bloodshot veins that have popped as neatly as the lidless bottles around them. There are lines that encircle his skin under each orb, the skin itself smudged the color of a bruise. She's seen the out of control look before; she recognizes it well. Katniss knows firsthand how it is to look into Cato's empty eyes and find nothing of him reflecting back. This time is different. This time, when Katniss looks, there's an entirely different person who stares back.
Cato's not just gone, he's been replaced by a madman she's never met.
"Look, Clove. Look. She's come to us. She's saved us the trouble and come to us," Cato says rapidly, his words tumbling upon themselves in effort to get out. He takes a step forward and she's wise enough to take a step back.
"Clove's not here, Cato," Katniss tells him calmly, hoping her words don't waver and betray how anxious she really feels. She measures the distance between her and the door before giving it up as a lost cause. There's no way she's making it out that door with him blocking her way.
Cato ignores what she says as if she hasn't spoken at all. "It is convenient, yes it is," he says before pausing as if to listen to someone else respond. Katniss hears nothing except the beating of her heart and Cato's own heavy breathing, but Cato nods his head as if he's just received an answer. He addresses the silence as if it were a person, saying, "You were right, you thought she'd come."
"It's just us," Katniss insists. She's trying to point out to him what is so obvious to her, as if doing so would help him see reason. The dead look he shoots her shows that he will be having none of it.
"She doesn't see you. How could she not see you?" Cato's eyes jump to a location a little to the right of where she stands, speaking to the empty space. "You're standing right there."
Katniss shifts a little away from the spot he's so fixed on, but that only results in future tension from the boy in front of her. "Trying to sneak off like a gutter rat, are you?" He takes another step forward, forcing her back. "Always sneaking. Always hiding."
"I'm not. I swear I'm not," Katniss says, trying to reason with him. "You have to look around though. Really look. I'm here to help you, if you'll let me."
"Stupid girl says to wants to help, did you hear that?" Cato says, continuing to talk to the empty space next to her. "Doesn't she know she already has?"
Dread sinks into her stomach. She hasn't gotten this far in her life without being able to recognize a situation that's going as rapidly downhill as this one is. Her fingers flex down towards where her hidden knife to strapped to her leg, but she knows better than to reach for it yet. "Listen to yourself! Whatever's going on here, whatever it is, we'll figure it out. But you have to let me—"
"Slumsgirl never liked to talk before, but now she won't shut up." Rivets of blood creep down from his hairline as he talks, trailing in lazy lines across his temple. He brings up his good hand to wipe some away as it gets in his eye, smearing even more blood across the side of his face. "You both are talking too much."
Katniss tenses as he swings his crazed gaze back and forth, alternating between looking at her and the empty space next to her. The muscles in his maimed arm begin to jump beneath the skin as he becomes increasingly agitated.
"Stop yelling at me, Clove," he snaps abruptly. "I can't think with all your shouting."
"Cato," Katniss begins again tentatively. Her memories race back to the private moment they'd shared not too long ago, back when Cato confided in her about seeing the dead girl. He'd trusted her briefly then, for whatever reason. She had to try to get him to do the same now. "Please. Look at me. There's only me here. It's just us. Remember what you told me before? About Clove? It's the pills—" Cato takes another step towards her, making her falter momentarily with her words.
"My medicine?"
"It's not medicine, not really. They're laced with tracker jacker venom. The Clove you've been seeing isn't real. She's an hallucination! I don't know why you're seeing her now if you're out of pills, but please, Cato, you have to believe me. You have to fight this. Whatever you're seeing now isn't real."
She regrets the words instantly for it is entirely the wrong thing to say. Shadows steal over Cato's face, twisting his features further into something unrecognizably cruel. Katniss can tell that he is beyond the ability to understand what she is saying.
"Clove, how did this stupid girl win? She lies with her filthy tongue. I will rip it from her head and make it stop. She's telling me you're not here, but you're clearly here. You're right here. Your voice is in my head and you're smiling at me right now and you're here you're here you're—" He turns his attention on Katniss fully for the first time since she's entered the room. "Don't you dare tell me she's not here when I'm looking right at her!"
His body speaks of agitation and rage, giving Katniss the slight warning she needs to leap away as he lunges for her. Bottles clatter across the room as she adjusts her position, wary and ready for him to come at her again. The empty bottles add an extra complication, for they are underfoot and scattered all over. Katniss warns herself not to trip on them if it comes to a fight. A mistake with Cato would only end in a brutal death for her and she isn't ready to die yet.
Cato gazes at her with wild eyes and Katniss knows without a doubt that he will attack her again. There's more blood dripping down his face but he doesn't bother to wipe it away this time. The muscle spasms she spotted earlier within his arm are now rippling further up his body, spreading from his arm as if it were a disease.
There's nothing of the boy she's come to know looking back when she stares at him. Instead, he reminds her of the muttations they've once encountered: strong, violent, and completely out of control. There is no reasoning with a rabid creature, but she doesn't have many options left to her.
"I'm sorry," Katniss offers quietly, trying to placate him and buy herself some more time before this erupts into an all out brawl. "I was wrong. You're right. Clove's here. We're all here, all three of us. I made a mistake."
Cato pays no heed to her words. "Stop shouting. I can't concentrate if you're shouting. I know, I'll kill her. You don't have to shout."
Cato doesn't mention killing her by name, but he doesn't have to. It's always been Katniss, after all. It's been his intention to kill her from the moment she volunteered for her sister and it has remained as such ever since. She hasn't forgotten, nor has he let her. Even after he was booted out of District 2 and thrust into District 12, he has never completely recanted his vow. It's what made spending time with him the last few weeks so difficult. As much as she tries to ignore its existence, there's been a stirring of doubt—hope? best not to label it—in her mind as she's gotten to know him, and he know her. There's a treacherous little voice hidden inside her head that has taken to whispering things she wouldn't dare mention aloud. That maybe that murderous drive to kill her was changing, maybe things between them can change, were changing...but that hope means nothing now. There are things in life that are certain and there are others that can never be. 'What if' and 'maybe' haven't mattered since the moment she's walked into his bedroom. He's going to try and kill her, and in the end nothing they've shared has made a difference in changing that.
She acknowledges this truth with cool logic, but it still causes her to flinch. Cato laughs.
"Oh, she knows. I've let it slip. Don't worry, Clove, it'll still be fun. I'll make it last." Cato makes another grab for her, forcing her further into the room and farther away from the door. "I'll make it last for as long as I can. Then they'll see. They'll know."
"Who will know?" Katniss asks, despite herself. She needs to get him away from the door. The boy before her is not the person she's come to know. Katniss reaches down for her hidden knife, revulsion filling her veins as Cato's mouth curls into an excited smile upon seeing the blade.
"Everyone," Cato says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Her hands betray nothing of her tumultuous emotions as she removes the knife from her boot and clenches it firmly within her hand. She keeps the blade in a faux-relaxed position by her side, her eyes keeping careful watch over his movements. Katniss steadies her breathing and slips into a defensive stance, knife ready. "You're going to let me through that door."
"She wants to go out. She wants to leave!" Cato echoes, delighted. "Clove, this stupid girl thinks she's going to leave here alive." He laughs again, the sound harsh and grating. Katniss finds herself longing to hear the startled sound of wonder he makes whenever Prim surprises him with something unexpected, or his soft, amused chuff of breath when he hears Katniss murmuring under her breath about a villager who tried to get in her favor. The laughter that carries throughout the room is now is that of a stranger's. There is nothing in his voice that holds any resemblance to the person she has begun to know, and she finds herself missing him. Katniss wonders if she'll ever hear Cato's normal laugh again, or if that boy was gone forever, lost to this crazed creature before her.
Cato leaps for her a third time, his movements wild and hard to predict. He lands a hand onto her shoulder, but Katniss manages to twist out of his hold. However, she's not expecting his knee that sweeps up and nails her in the stomach. The air rushes out of her and she's sent sprawling across the floor, scattering bottles as she goes. She wheezes for breath in the hurried rush of prey around a predator.
Cato bends down and gently scoops up the knife she's lost in their scuffle off the floor. He strokes the scarred fingers of his maimed hand almost lovingly across the serrated edge, pressing his fingers hard enough to break the skin and draw blood. The pain it causes brings a wickedly delighted smile to his face. Katniss feels nothing but disgust at the twisted expression that is stamped across his mouth.
"Shut up, Clove, not yet," Cato snarls to himself. He grips the knife tighter and talks to open air. "It's no fun to kill her without some play." Whatever he hears must not please him, for his expression twists further from fiendish delight to growing fury. "No, you don't know what you're talking about. You're the one who died in the Games, remember? I'm not going to take your advice after you got yourself killed." He listens again, this time shaking his head furiously as Katniss struggles to regulate her breathing. Her ribs ache from where his kick connected, warning of bruises to come if she manages to get out of this alive.
"I told you to stop shouting. It hurts when you shout and it makes everything jump," Cato hisses to himself. His steady stream of babbled words doesn't waver. "Why won't you stop screaming?"
Katniss cautiously pulls herself upright into a sitting position as Cato goes rigid. He sinks to the floor, crouching on his knees. He transfers the knife into his weaker hand, bringing his stronger hand to rest against the wall of his temple. To Katniss's utter horror, she can only watch as Cato's fingertips dig into the side of his skull as he claws furiously at his own head. She remains frozen in her place as he scratches against the side of his skull, fingertips dredging at the skin and causing more blood to pool down his face. Katniss realizes with a jolt that the blood she spotted on his face earlier was probably caused by a previous assault against himself. Cato has voices in his head, and none of them are friendly.
"Make it stop make it stop make it stop," Cato's voice echoes again and again as he claws against his skull, as if attempting to dig out whatever demon plagued him. His nails dig crooked furrows across the field of skin. "WILL YOU STOP SHOUTING AT ME?"
His eyes flicker up to hers and there's a glimpse of fear within his gaze. It's the look a person wears when they're outside their element, unable to control themselves and yet unable to stop. It's the first sight of emotion beyond insanity she's spotted, the first sign that there's still something there, something human, left inside. Empathy rushes through her in a sudden burst of energy and Katniss cautiously reaches out her hand in a fool handed method to reach him. She has to draw him out, draw out the person behind the rage, and see if she could touch whatever part of him remained.
Cato will stand for none of it. Her fingers are outstretched towards him, searching for the boy who is her not-friend, but he stops his clawing to smack her hand away. There's blood under his nails and scratches littering his face. He leaves some blood on her arm, a leftover reminder of who is the one in charge here.
"Don't touch me," he growls. Katniss's expression hardens, and she remembers herself. She scrambles up and away from him, surging in one quick movement for the door before he can get the better of her. Cato catches up when she is more than half way there, grasping her elbow and throwing her backwards and away from her escape route.
"Do you think she'll scream too? Maybe I should cut out her tongue now so I only have to listen to one of you." Cato stands again between her and the way to freedom, her stolen knife still within his grip. The fear she had spotted upon his face has faded away as if it had never existed and only the monster boy remained.
"You don't have to do this," Katniss reasons, hoping to draw out some spark within him again. "You don't have to kill anymore. It doesn't have to be like this."
"It doesn't have to be like this," Cato repeats, mocking her. His words express nothing but contempt. "Clove, did you hear that bullshit? You had to have heard it. She doesn't know, she doesn't get it." Cato's body shakes with poorly controlled energy brought on by his rage. The blood continues to drip down from his temple, collecting at the edge of his chin, and then dripping in steady drop drop drops onto his shirt and the floor. Katniss doubts the stain of it will ever truly come out.
"I want to kill her I want to kill her I want to kill her," he repeats again and again, words slurring upon themselves. "Always have to kill everybody."
"You're wrong," she risks to say, trying to ignore the way he snarls back. "You're really wrong about that. You don't have to be that person anymore, do you understand?" She reaches for him again, but he slips out of her way. It's a funny game they play, alternating between the pursuer and the pursued. "Please. There is another way."
He focuses another not-Cato stare upon the empty space next to her. "There has never been another way for me."
"But there is. You're already on that path. I've seen you here in District 12, I've seen who you could be," Katniss urges, "I already have."
"This girl talks as if she knows me, as if she knows something I don't. How ridiculous is that? She is not District 2. She has no idea."
"I know that that Capitol has done something to you," Katniss answers. "What I told you earlier about your pills wasn't a lie, it's the truth. They've been poisoning you with tracker jacker venom laced in your painkiller pills."
Her words cause Cato to glance into a new corner of the room. Katniss follows his stare, her own eyes landing on several larger green pills that lay clustered around a nondescript bottle. Her heart sinks. "Oh, Cato..." Katniss says, whisper-soft, "I thought you said you didn't have any more pills."
The muscular boy doesn't answer her. He continues to talk to himself, ignoring her completely.
"You don't have to do this," Katniss tries again. "It's impossible to completely lock your past away, I know that better than anyone. But you can make your peace with it and try to move on. You were trained to win the Games, you've told me about how it was your entire life. But that part is over now, there's nothing more you can do about it."
Cato's gaze moves from his hidden cache of pills and back over to her, his face a perplexed mix of focus and mindless madness. Katniss continues, unfaltering, "I didn't understand that before. I have my own troubles that sometimes I can't look past, since if I do, I could lose my family. I know what kind of person you think you are, but that's not all you can be."
Cato pauses in his wild ramblings as if to consider her words. His head tilts to the side, but his eyes are still not his own. "Things can be different," Katniss tells him earnestly, "You can be different."
"There's so much pain. Clove knows, don't you Clove? She doesn't know," Cato murmurs to himself, fixing the braided haired girl with a cloudy stare.
"I know it hurts," Katniss tells him guardedly, not allowing herself to forget the knife he still holds in his hand, "but I can help you, if you let me." The truth is that she can promise no such thing, for she doesn't know if he can find his way back from such poison. The notion of Cato, and all his potential and growth, lost forever to the Capitol's meddling causes an unexpected ache to bloom deep within herself. The raw feeling of regret catches Katniss off guard and wrenches a small breath of surprise out of her.
He realizes the lie, or he finally bored of what she has to say.
Cato lunges for her. This time Katniss is prepared. She darts to the side and manages to hook her foot around his own, causing him to stumble. The girl makes a break for the door, but Cato reaches out with his arm and encircles her ankle with a fist, dragging her down to the floor with him.
What results is an all-out scuffle. Katniss kicks out her feet, driving him away in a bid for freedom. She sees the knife swinging down at her legs and rolls out of the way just in time to avoid injury. The knife catches some of the fabric of her pants, causing a hearty rip as a portion of material tears away from the main garment. Katniss manages to get to her feet first and Cato isn't far behind. He wields the blade again, aiming for the small of her back and forcing her to turn around to avoid the knife properly. She weaves and dodges, but she is up against a weapons expert. Cato's strikes with the dagger rain down upon her smaller frame and it takes all her concentration to avoid a fatal blow. The rest of her clothing quickly becomes littered with small rips and tears when she is not careful enough to steer clear of a hit.
Katniss is fast, but Cato is faster. Despite the loss of a fully functioning arm, Cato's years of training against Katniss's self-taught ways put her at a disadvantage. She avoids any fatal strikes, but his attacks still get past her guard and draw blood.
She won't last against him in a fair fight, so she doesn't make it fair.
Katniss chooses her moment wisely, waiting until he launches a blow that's aimed at her chest. Instead of dipping away from the blade, she pushes herself forward. She brings the broad part of her arm up as she blocks, grimacing as the blade digs into the lean flesh of her forearm. Cato makes a satisfied sound that's cut short as Katniss surges towards him. She throws her weight against him, wincing as the blade drives itself further into her arm, and pushes herself against the expanse of his chest. She is not strong enough to knock him over, and Cato's arrogant smile betrays how he already knows this. The move, in his eyes, is a worthless one.
The force of her body straining against his does, however, force him to take a step back in order to hold his stance. His foot has barely slipped backwards before he catches sight of Katniss's smirk. It is only mere seconds that follow until he realizes the cause of her mirth.
He has forgotten about the bottles.
The one step that he has seceded to her has brought his heel down upon one of the empty bottles that lay haphazardly throughout the room. The bottle rolls backwards out from under his foot and Cato can't maintain his balance. He stumbles backwards, unable to catch himself, and Katniss uses his own arrogance against him. With a burst of hidden strength, she slams the rest of her body weight against his. The momentum of her body against his lack of balance drives him to fall in an inelegant tumble to the floor.
He is down momentarily, and Katniss has won her chance to get away. The problem is, however, there's a price she pays for such a reckless act. She has to commit herself to the momentum in order to have enough force to shove him backwards, and she is already falling before she realizes can't stop. She cannot catch herself. When she realizes she will fall too, Katniss has the sense of mind to yank the blade from her arm so the collision won't drive the blade in deeper. It clatters again to the floor harmlessly, the metal dressed up pretty in red.
Cato stumbles to the floor. Katniss stumbles and falls on top of him.
There is a bubble of passing calm that envelops the two of them. With her cheek pressed up against his chest, Katniss can feel Cato's rapid breathing. His chest is rising and falling in sharp, hurried movements. His body, she notes in some abstracted thought, is quite warm. The wound on her arm is bleeding red and it's mixing with the blood that already stains his shirt, but the boy below her doesn't pay it much mind. Her head is resting over his heart and her ears are ringing with the sound of its steady beat.
She lifts her slowly head and looks at his face. Cato stares back at her with round, surprised eyes. Tracker jacker is still teeming within his veins, and even though this calm is only fleeting, it grants her this lone moment without his madness. It's Cato looking back at her, not the madman, and Katniss has never felt such an overwhelming urge just to reach him and make him stay.
The moment passes, the bubble pops, and the curtain of madness falls over his eyes again.
Katniss rolls herself off his body and springs up off the floor. The pain within her arm has dulled her movements, and as fast as she bolts for the door, Cato isn't far behind her. He reaches out a hand and yanks her backwards. She follows his gaze down towards the dropped knife, knowing that he is only moments away from reclaiming it as his own. Katniss can't allow that to happen. She sweeps out her leg, knocking the knife away from Cato and sending it skidding across the room. Her aim is good; it disappears out of view underneath the bed.
Her victory is short lived.
Cato curses her name, calling her all things under the sun as well as a few creative terms she's never heard before. Katniss realizes quickly that while she might have succeeded in disarming him, it will only go so far. As Cato reacts in rage, dragging her across the room with such force that he almost yanks her arm out of its socket, Katniss is met with the realization that he is simply physically stronger than she is.
What Katniss lacks in strength she makes up for in skill with her bow. She has never been a close combat fighter, not even in the Games. Though she could certainly hold her own against a regular individual, the boy hauling her across the room was no normal opponent. His muscled, well-disciplined form has the advantage over her leaner frame, and without her bow, Cato easily overpowers her.
Cato slams her against the wall. Her head collides with the wall with one sharp crack, causing her eyesight to blur for several long moments until the Career boy shifts into view again. He uses his shoulder and chest to pin her where to stands, the warmth of his body presses against her own again. He crowds her, leering down with an superior smirk. His good hand is firmly gripped against her shoulder, locking her into place as he creates a prison with his body. Katniss tries to wiggle out from his grasp, struggling to get away from where he holds her pinned. Cato does not budge an inch. He is a wall of solid muscle and murderous intention, and she acknowledges with cool certainty that there will be no getting away this time.
Cato's eyes are alight with victory and his teeth are bared in an unearthly grin. The blood from his self-inflicted scratches oozes down his face and creates a hellish mask over half his features. He finally has her, after all these months he has spent waiting, and his expression betrays how much relishes it.
Katniss know that he will kill her. There is no doubt of that.
She looks into the face of her murderer and knows that she is looking at death.
The emotions that follow such a realization aren't exactly the kind she would of expected. Katniss is angry, that's for sure. She's not ready to die and leave the people she loves behind. But she's not angry with him. A rush of regret and sorrow mix together and displays itself across her face. Katniss does not want to die, but now that the hour is at hand, she can't blame him for it.
Small wonders, she muses, that she cannot find it within herself to hate Cato even when he is about to kill her.
"If I am to die, then don't let it be for waste."
Cato cocks his head at her, drunk on early victory. He doesn't understand what she's saying, not one bit. The madness spurred by the venom has reduced him to the simple-minded creature in front of her, one who only understood violence and death. Her calm acceptance of the situation has surprised him. Clove, no doubt, is screaming in his ears right now to end this. Her noxious words, an embodiment of both the venom and Snow's underhanded ways, have dug their claws into his mind and refuse to be dislodged.
"You may not see it now, but I do. The Capitol has been taking advantage of you for far too long, and I'm not only talking about how they've kept you drugged with tracker jacker venom," Katniss says, her voice steady and strong. "District 2 has taught you only how to be a Career. You can kill me in a dozen different ways and I wouldn't be able to stop you."
Cato's insanity sparks across his face. He is tired of the chase; he wants the pay off of his victory over her. His fingers begin to creep from her shoulder, but Katniss's voice doesn't quiver.
"You may not be able to answer me any longer, but I hope this still reaches you somehow. You may not want to admit it," Katniss says with a shaky laugh, "but you were changing. The Cato who had dinner with my family, the one who walked through town with me and tried sweets for the first time and liked them, the boy who was able to trust me enough to share his fears and his laughter, that Cato was not the person I met during the Games. The person you were before all of this would have never done any of that, and especially not with someone like me."
Cato's hand moves with lazy arrogance across her collarbone. He is heading for her throat.
"You've been changing ever since you've come to District 12—no, even before that—and that's not a bad thing. You were given a chance to change who you were, to become someone more than who the Capitol wanted you to be, and that's amazing. I probably never gave you enough credit, but I know that change is never an easy thing. But you were doing it, and I—I think you were happier."
Cato's hand finds her throat and closes around it. His fingers are strong and encircle her skin easily. He does not place any pressure yet upon her throat, though his flesh feels like a brand against her own. Katniss's breath hitches from the contact, but she does not stop talking.
"Don't let it all be for waste," she says fiercely, as if he did intend to throttle the life out of her shortly. Even facing death, Katniss will not allow herself to cowed. She needed to get this out, for him. "This isn't you. Don't let the venom in those pills take everything away from you. Don't let the Capitol take any more of your life from you."
Cato's eyes flare bright against her own, his stare heavy upon her face. His gaze flickers down to where his hands rest at her throat.
"The Capitol did this to you, made you into this. You've always hated losing, Cato, are you going to lose them now? I know you've wanted to kill me from the start, and if that's how it's supposed to be, then fine. But at least have the dignity to try and kill me yourself, and not as the shell of a person you've become because of those pills. This..." she says, her words alight with conviction and feeling, "This is not you."
The ex-Career has had enough. His fingers begin to squeeze at her throat, a warning for her to stop talking. The pressure causes her to gasp, but it's not enough to quiet the words she wants to tell him, has to tell him, before she loses the chance to ever say them.
"There's a point within yourself that's hard to find, but it's there, Cato, I swear to you that it's there. The focus that exists between rage and serenity will let you find the true balance between yourself. The person you were before the Games and the person you had the chance to become after it was over. It's what you've been searching for this entire time," Katniss rasps out. Her voice is turning harsh and scratchy from the pressure he's placed upon her throat. "You weren't there yet, but you were starting to find the balance. You really were changing. Don't let them destroy that."
She stares up at him with eyes that are free of hate and bitterness. Her breath is coming in short gasps between her lips, but she still manages to share one last small smile with him. Cato finds himself unable to look away or shake off the sight of it.
"Killing me," Katniss says simply, "will not give you what you want."
And then there are no more words to be said, for Cato begins to earnestly choke her.
::
Cato may only be able to fully utilize one hand, but there is much strength within it. His palm crushes against her windpipe and his fingers are bands of steel against the soft skin of her throat. Unable to go down without a fight, Katniss' hands scrabble against his. Her fingers pluck at his own, trying to pull them back from his suffocating hold and allow her some precious air. He remains immovable.
His hand is relentless against her throat. Katniss' lungs cry out for air as Cato continues to cut off her supply. She will die from asphyxiation if she cannot get him to stop. Nothing she does has any effect on the ex-Career. He astutely predicts when she kicks out her leg to drive him away, using his own to press her further against the wall. His fingers constrict tighter and tighter and she can feel involuntarily tears darting from her eyes at the pain. She doesn't know if it's the pain at her throat or the burning in her lungs that hurts the most.
The world around her is starting to dim. Katniss chokes out his name in a desperate attempt to reason with him, but he remains unfeeling. Her hands still fight against his hold, but they are beginning to lose their strength. Katniss is having a harder time controlling her body. She is losing whatever fight she had left against him, and will soon die.
Katniss stares into the mad face of her killer and finds no regret in his features. Cato is riled up and excited, eager at the feel of life slipping away from her body. The daily dosing of tracker jacker venom has done its work well. Her gaze slips from his face and down his torso, coming to rest on his scarred arm. The muscle beneath the skin is still in spasm, causing Katniss to flashback to all the other times the venom had started to take hold of Cato.
She's just about out of air. The world is phasing in and out, and all the color is gone. There's black around the edges of her vision and only Cato is painted in grey. Her hands drop away from where they fought to free her throat, the motion causing Cato to let out an excited sound. He takes this as a sign that she's giving up.
She stares at his scarred arm again, taking in every flaw of the mottled, twisted skin. It is nothing like the perfect arm that is pressed against her throat, and yet, she finds herself preferring the look of the imperfect one instead. Katniss focuses whatever strength she has left and sends it to her own arm, praying that her body would listen to her one last time and grant her this favor. Her hand reaches out, trembling and unsteady, and comes to rest against his own scarred hand. Her arm barely has the strength to remain extended, but her touch is enough to startle him. Cato rears his head back in surprise, the muscles in his body tensing under her light touch. His expression is suspicious, ready for her to dig her nails into his flesh and score one final wound against him. She doesn't.
Katniss takes Cato's hand instead. Her fingers thread with his fingers, bringing their hands together palm to palm. Her skin is warm against his own. Katniss gently squeezes his hand with hers, directly causing a shudder to ripple through his body from the intimate contact.
The gesture of farewell uses up the last of her strength. Her hand falls away and leaves his hand clutching at empty air. The shudder she has caused rocks through his body a second time as he fights the urge to chase her hand with his own and fill the empty space once again. The feeling of her skin against his, her hand together with his own, triggers something deep within himself. There's a voice inside his head, one that cuts through the hazy fog that has surrounded his brain the entire time, and it's screaming at him to let her go.
Clarity comes in small doses; the venom is too strong to release him fully. But her simple action has woken something up within him, and the world starts to come into focus once again as the film from his eyes is peeled back. Clove's next to him, and she's screaming too, but the voice echoing inside his own head is louder.
The voice inside his head is his voice. It cuts through all the chatter going around his brain, sharpening in one narrow focus onto the only person who matters in the room. The words of old ghosts no longer have a hold over him.
Cato's grip upon her throat lessens the instant he returns to himself. Air rushes back into her parched lungs as he pulls away, causing her gasp and sputter. Her legs have no strength to hold her and Katniss leans heavily on his body to avoid falling to the ground. Cato doesn't understand what's going on or how it got to this; his memory a blur that will take time to sort through. He only knows that she's coughing without pause and there's terrible bruises against the soft skin of her throat that suspiciously look like the shape of his hand.
"Katniss...?" Cato whispers, confusion tainting his voice. He reaches an unsteady hand out towards her, his eyes wide at the marks that paint her throat. "Did I do this to you?"
And then his eyes roll backwards in their sockets as he collapses against her. Her legs manage to keep her standing without his support as his body slides down to the floor, knocked unconscious. Katniss's gaze leaps from his fallen body and then up to the figure who had no qualms with knocking him out.
::
Haymitch is blazing with unbridled fury in a way she has never seen him. He stalks over to Katniss quickly, sending at sharp kick at Cato's fallen body as he goes, and inspects her from head to toe. His face darkens further upon seeing the damage done to her throat and the relief that she is still alive is palpable within every line of his body. Katniss is still coughing and wheezing, but she manages to smile at him in reassurance that she's okay. He gives her a tight smile back, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek. She nudges against it in gratitude.
That relief, however, passes quickly out of his face as he stares down at the ex-District 2 boy at his feet. Haymitch reaches for the dagger he has around his belt and takes it into his hands. He has finally come to the end of his rope and will allow for no more wildcards. Thanks to the venom, Cato has proven all his worries to be true. The older man's features are warped with anger and determination as he draws the dagger back, ready to plunge it unapologetically into Cato.
Katniss's body moves before she can think better of it. She steps around Haymitch, coming between him and Cato. Her mentor's expression shifts from rage to shock as he asks, "Are you out of your mind? What are you doing, Katniss?"
The girl simply shakes her head. She plucks the dagger from his hand and tosses it under the bed to join the other knife as Haymitch stares at her in outrage.
"Is that your way of saying no? You don't want me to kill him...have you gone absolutely insane? I've warned you about him before," Haymitch reasons with her, unable to understand what she is doing. "You can't trust him, you'll never be fully able to. He's violent and dangerous, completely out of his mind and wants to kill you. He just tried to kill you. I let it go the last time he showed signs of violence when he attacked that Peacekeeper, which, may I remind you, can still come back to haunt us? It was against my better judgment to do so, I would have had them haul him away right then and there, but I didn't, Katniss, because you forced my hand. And I knew that allowing him a free pass from that was going to come around and hurt you in the end," he snaps, "And clearly, judging from what I just saw today, I was right!"
Katniss firmly shakes her head again, wincing as the motion irritates her throat. Undaunted, she refuses to move from where she standing above Cato. No, her actions say, I will not let you kill him.
Haymitch clenches his fists in frustration. "What will make you see reason on this? What hold does he have over you that's made you defend him over and over again? There's nothing about him that makes him deserving of your friendship! Don't you shake your head at me and deny that! You act like he's your friend, though I have absolutely no idea as to why. He has only ever brought you pain and will only serve to do so again," Haymitch pleads, distraught as to why she just can't understand this. "Let me end things tonight. It is for the best and you know that. He will only try to kill you again and I refuse to stand by and let that happen!"
"N-no, Haymitch," Katniss's voice comes out low and raspy. It clearly causes her much pain to speak, her throat raw from the beating it took. Haymitch makes a motion for her to stop and spare herself the agony, but she has to make him understand.
"He h-had his chance, to k-kill me."
Haymitch mutters his own thoughts on that under his breath, but doesn't interrupt. Katniss meets his searching stare, Cato's handprint unforgivable against the fair skin of her throat, and she knows that it's all Haymitch sees. It is not all she saw.
"He had his chance," she repeats, looking down at Cato's still form, "and he let me go."
::
Without getting too personal, I found out back in January that someone whom I love very much was diagnosed with terminal osteosarcoma, or bone cancer. I have had no desire to write (or do much of anything else) since finding out. It's coming to the point that he does not have much time left, but I know how much he enjoys it when I write. Yesterday I decided to write for the first time in almost six months and ended up with a full 10,000 word chapter today. Funny how that happens.
If you spot the XMFC easter egg, you're not imagining things. It's there and it's not even subtle. What can I say? DOFP gave me a lot of feels.
My thanks to everyone who has left so much encouragement and kind words about this story, even though it was probably starting to look like I was never going to update this thing again. Your words mean more to me than you could ever know.