Three words: I am back!

I know it's been years but something made me come back to it. We live in weird times right now and I needed some form of escape. The unfinished story kept calling back to me.

A lot of time has passed so I might not be as deft with my words as I used to be but I hope you'll enjoy. There's not much dialogue or action in this one but we find out a bit more about Cato himself…

Chapter 13

He doesn't remember getting back to his suite but once he's there he heads straight for the shower. He punches the buttons on the control board blindly and he's assaulted by alternating jets of scalding and icy water. He's still wearing his clothes which now cling to him, making him shiver uncontrollably. Or is it the lingering touch of her hand on his cheek?

Fuck. He almost slaps himself across the face. Get a grip, Cato.

But he is still half-hard and his mind keeps going back to Katniss. He lets the water engulf him and wonders if she, too, is in the shower, trying to wash away that burning feeling from her lips. He wonders if she too is dissecting what just happened or whether she tries to forget it ever did. Will she think this was a game or that it was real? He still isn't sure which option he's trying to go for himself. It seems like it happened a whole eternity ago but he can still hear that soft moan escaping her lips in pleasure and oh, god, he is definitely stuck with option one because all he can think of is now how much he wants to make her moan for him like that again.

Either way, he's totally screwed.

Resigned, he strips down naked, dumps the wet clothes into a heap on the floor and slides into bed. The sheets feel cool to the touch and he lies there, eyes trained on the ceiling, trying to calm himself down.

He already knows it will be impossible for him to fall asleep tonight.

But somehow, after what could be minutes or hours of lying there, he does. His doesn't dream. His dreams are thick and heavy like black oil, swallowing him whole, choking him in the darkness. He wants to wake up screaming but he doesn't wake up once until it's morning and there's someone banging on his door.

'Cato?! Wake up, you lazy piece of shit!' Irritation in Clove's voice is palpable. She gives the door three more loud bangs and storms off, her annoyed thumps clearly audible through the walls. Cato vaguely wonders what set her off.

He realises today is the day for prep before the interviews and his efficient routine drilled into him during the years spent at the Academy comes back. He is showered and dressed in less than five minutes, shaking off the grogginess and the fragmented memories from the night before.

Everybody's already at breakfast when he comes out. He heads straight for the buffet without saying a word and proceeds to stuff his plate full of food. He's weirdly starving.

'Good morning to you too, Cato,' says Anthea with just a hint of reproach in her voice. 'I hope you won't be as impolite during the interviews tomorrow! I've just been telling Clove how important it is for you both to make a great impression...'

Clove snorts loudly.

'Sorry, Anthea, I think I'm a bit tired today. Good morning' says Cato apologetically. She seems mollified. 'So, what's the plan?' He looks at Brutus.

'Well, since you will be coached separately you'll have a few hours with me on the content and Enobaria will work with you on the arena tactics later.'

'That's unfair! Why does he get to work on tactics when I have to suffer through the stupid dress rehearsal?!' Clove bursts out. 'I know how to walk in heels, Enobaria, I don't need a lesson!'

Ah. So that's what put her in that sour mood.

Enobaria raises her eyebrow. 'Darling, you need to work on your temper. If you give me one more outburst like that I'll make sure the 'stupid dress rehearsal' with me lasts the whole day and you won't get to work on the arena tactics at all. If you don't start acting like an adult I won't treat you as one.'

That seems to shut Clove up although she keeps carving a hole in the table with her knife with a deliberate viciousness.

'Sucks for you,' quips Cato and takes a seat next to her. She shoots him a murderous look. 'Oh Clove, come on, we can work on the tactics later together. We already agreed we'll be teaming up.'

'Fine,' she mutters through her teeth. 'It's still unfair.'

'Life generally isn't.'

Indeed. Cato has had a first-hand experience so far. But the Hunger Games are a chance to improve his prospects. If he wins.

No, he chides himself silently. When. When you win. No ifs.

The first few hours with Brutus are well spent. They talk multiple angles and finally decide to go with the tough-on-the-outside-soft-on-the-inside story based on his sad life which should go down well with the sponsors. They love a sad story (he was sent to the Academy at the age of seven for tesserae. Mother and father died in an accident when he was eight. He was raised by his uncle who died a year ago. He has no one else). But all that only made him stronger. He's been training hard and he's one of the best. He came here to bring glory to all Panem and make the Capitol proud. He is one of the favourites, no question.

Cato briefly ponders at his own childhood as they go through his answers and reactions with a fine comb. Was it a happy one? He doesn't know anyone who's had a childhood at all back at District 2 so there's not much happiness to talk about. He doesn't remember much from when he was younger anyway.

Like him, half the kids are sent to the Academy for tesserae at the age of seven – the other half work in the masonry factories. It's a hard life, no doubt, and many families are poor. They say District 2 is wealthy but when someone falls into poverty, they fall just as hard as anywhere else.

When you finish the Academy you can go four ways. The best of the best are chosen for the Games (like him). Everyone else goes on to be a Peacekeeper (the weaker ones and the angrier ones), a member of the dedicated Capitol task force (the ones with ambition and brains) or members of President's Snow private guard (the obedient ones, the silent ones). There have been good and bad times at the Academy, but Cato reckons that's just life. He mostly remembers training, a lot of sweat, pain and anger. No real friendships. His only goal to stand out from others and prove himself.

He doesn't remember his mother much – just her eyes, and the way she smelled. His father… a faceless figure with glasses hunched over big sheets of paper, day in day out, designing the buildings for Panem. They say he was a great architect. But Cato never got to know him.

In a way, he's been lucky –

Suddenly, Katniss' words come to his mind. What about the day we met? He can still see a mixture of inquisitiveness and hope on her face when she said it and his armor came crashing down.

You told me you would. That they would make you forget.

Earlier he wouldn't even entertain her but now, for some reason, he tries to remember that time he went to District 12. It was President's Snow 50th birthday and his father was sent to District 12 to oversee works on a commemorative statue of some sort. Him and his mother ended going up with him. He vaguely remembers the whizz of the train, the world moving in a blur on the other side of the window, the childlike exhilaration of something new. The smell of the meadow. The unfamiliar home. His mother getting sick… A dark room full of herbs, smelling like sage and lavender. Someone holding his hand whilst his mother was screaming her lungs out… A little girl showing him a butterfly fluttering in her palm.

'Cato?'

He blinks. The memory is gone. Brutus is looking at him with a concerned look.

'Are you ok?'

'Yes, sorry' he says, trying to keep his voice steady. 'I was just thinking.'

Brutus doesn't ask what about, and Cato is silently grateful.

When his time with Brutus is up, he gets handed over to Anthea, Esca and Roma for a makeover. They prepared a suit for him, white with gold leaf accents. It's similar to what he was wearing at the chariots but a bit less revealing.

Roma is about to say something – she's already made a few comments about how he looks dashing and how much he resembles a Greek god and Cato braces himself for some more – when suddenly, Clove storms into the room. She looks at the same time angry and impatient.

'Time to talk strategy! Come on.' She literally drags him out of the room and shuts the door into Esca's outraged face. 'Enobaria finally decided to let me go.'

'What did she do to you? You look harassed.'

Clove grinds her teeth.

'Don't ask. I honestly can't wait till I can actually kill something.'

Cato chuckles despite himself.

'Did she make you twirl?'

'Shut up,' she barks back but cracks up a tiny smile to match his. 'I will kill it tomorrow regardless of whether I can say 'how do you do' in a polite manner to Flickerman. I can't stand the man!'

'But you will behave,' interjects Enobaria who appears, yet again, out of nowhere. It always makes him jump.

'Yes, yes, fine,' mumbles Clove. 'Can we start already?'

They talk strategy for over two hours. They have it pretty much worked out. The alliance with Glimmer and Marvel is a done deal. Cato knows from watching the Games in the previous years that it's crucial to secure the supplies and the camp as soon as possible and you can't do than on your own. There were years when the Careers lost the main camp and those were the years when tributes from other districts won. They also discuss what sort of sponsorships they have secured so far, what they could get in the arena. They talk their weaknesses. Clove is reluctant to admit she has any but Cato knows better. He's had a good education back at the Academy and the first thing they teach them is how to identify your weak spots. When you know your weak spot you know how to make it stronger.

It dawns on him that he's just acquired another weak spot and this time he might now know how to protect himself against it.

'So. How you're going to kill the Girl on Fire?' asks Clove, like she's reading his mind. 'I've already thought of a number of ways. First, take her eyes out. Second, maybe I can use her as a target and shoot her full of knives. Third… was thinking of cutting her guts out so she can watch them fall out and then she bleeds herself to death in agony.'

'You're so twisted,' says Cato. 'Also, that's gross. Also, small hole in your plan because if you take her eyes out first she won't be able to watch her guts fall out later will she?

'Spoilsport,' Clove barks back, not happy at being lectured.

They go on like this for another five minutes. Finally, Enobaria's had enough.

'Ok, let's call it a day. Get some rest, kids. It's a big, big, bid day tomorrow!' she mimicks Anthea in a high-pitched voice and all of them laugh. It's bang on. 'Anyway, I think we covered everything.'

Cato drags himself back to his suite and falls face down on the bed. He didn't realise he was this exhausted. Where did the day go?

The last waking thought he has before he drifts off into another dreamless sleep is that his main strategy will be avoiding Katniss Everdeen in the arena, hoping someone else will kill her first. To bury this one weakness deep within and hope it dies away.

It's the only way he knows how to survive.