A/N: So instead of there only being one more chapter, this is the last one for Chafed! I can't believe I'm moving onto the final story in the series now! Thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Sorry for any typos!

Chapter Nineteen

Cato awoke with a jolt. He was staring at a navy blue ceiling, obscured by the occasional shadow rushing past. His head was fuzzy and he couldn't remember what had happened. Wasn't he supposed to be in the arena? His whole body was aching and it took a lot of effort to push himself up. Something tugged on his arm and he frowned, looking down to see a thin tube coming out of his hand with a cathater attached.

Confused, Cato took in his surroundings. He was sitting on the floor of the hovercraft where they had injected him with his tracker for the Quarter Quell arena. Lying on the floor beside him was Beetee, glasses askew and the same tube coming out of his own hand. Other than that, the room was empty.

Pushing himself up off the floor, he tugged the tube out of his hand and dropped it onto the floor. He tried to recall what had happened in the last moments of the Games but nothing came to mind but pandemonium and complete chaos. He couldn't remember what had ended it nor could he understand why he was in a hovercraft with Beetee.

Wait, where was Peeta?

All Cato could bring to mind was Peeta yelling back at him when he screamed his name. Where was he? What happened? Was he going to be okay?

Suddenly worried, Cato examined himself for injuries and, once he decided he was unharmed, decided to investigate what the hell was going on. Whoever had put him onto the hovercraft had taken his sword so as he passed the door, he grabbed a scalpal from the box of medical instruments that had been just lying there. As soon as he was out the door, he heard voices down the corridor. He followed the voices on uneasy feet until he reached the front of the hovercraft.

The automatic door slid open when he was a step away, revealing a large room with a table set up in the middle. Around it stood Finnick, the Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee, Haymitch in a wheelchair and . . . Harold.

"Ah, you're finally awake, Mr Hadley!" Plutarch said.

"What's going on?" Cato asked.

"The Mockingjay blew the force field around the arena," Haymitch explained, his tired eyes falling on Cato. He looked shattered, like staying awake on its own was horribly difficult. "Therefore inciting a rebellion and sending the country into disarry."

Cato didn't feel like he'd heard correctly. "What? Rebellion?"

"The rebel forces immediately went in and collected as many victors as they could, including yourself, myself and Beetee," Finnick said. "The Mockingjay's stunt with the force field has provided the perfect distraction for kick starting the rebellion." He was still dressed in his Quarter Quell wetsuit, his eyes were exhausted, and it looked like the possibility of passing out might be immediate for him.

Cato frowned. "What Mockingjay?" he asked. What bird could have destroyed the force field around the arena? He looked at Harold for help but the man wouldn't meet his eyes, fixating them instead on the floor. He seemed to be concentrating on something imensely, his eyebrows screwed up severely as if he was fighting something off.

"The Mockingjay is the nickname the Districts devised for the symbol of the rebellion," Plutrach explained.

Symbol of the rebellion . . . "You mean Peeta?" Cato looked around the room, the worry increasing when Peeta was still nowhere to be seen. "Where is Peeta exactly?"

The silence was so deafening after that Cato's heart began to pound. What had happened? Peeta hadn't been killed in the explosion, had he? He couldn't have been. Cato always thought that if Peeta ever died, he'd know. Like a piece of him would tear off and never be repaired again. In saying that, a part of Cato felt like it was starting to fray, like something was slowly wearing away.

Desperate for answers, Cato looked at Harold, who he knew would tell him the truth. The Capitol man lifted his head. His green eyes were bloodshot, as if he had been crying for a long time. He didn't look in the mood to say anything. Cato pressed the matter none-the-less. "Harold, where's Peeta?"

"The rebels couldn't get everyone," Plutarch explained. "The Capitol sent in hovercrafts as well but because Johanna ripped the tracker out of Mr Mellark's arm, we couldn't locate him-"

"Where is he?" Cato demanded.

"The Capitol flew in and took both Mr Mellark and Miss Mason into the Capitol and are currently holding them prisoner," Plutarch answered, not a hint of remorse on his face. "It will be a great deal harder to run the rebellion without the Mockingjay's input and image but we can work past it."

"You mean Peeta's in the Capitol, right now?" Cato asked slowly. In the Capitol, at the mercy of President Snow and his sick, twisted head. "What do you mean prisoner? Johanna's a victor and Peeta's a victor's partner,shouldn't they be treated properly? Snow can't hold them prisoner, can he?"

"Yes, he can," Plutarch explained. "As of now, every tribute in the Games are considered traitors. Anyone who the Capitol captured are now prisoners."

"And you didn't think to try and find Peeta first?" Cato asked, feeling anger bubble up inside him. "If he's your 'Mockingjay' or whatever, why didn't you try to find him before anyone else?"

"Because since Johanna ripped the tracker out of his arm, he was untraceable," Plutarch answered, annoyingly calm. "And if we crossed paths with any tribute, we pulled them up. By the time we were able to locate Mr Mellark, it was too late."

"Why the hell did Johanna rip his tracker out then?!" Cato shouted.

"So that the Capitol couldn't find him."

"But they found him anyway!" Cato couldn't believe it. It felt like his world had came to an aburpt stop, like everything had ceased to function and all that mattered in that moment was Peeta and his safety.

"Cato, they tried their best," Finnick said.

"Well they obviously didn't try hard enough!" Cato yelled. Harold tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. It looked like the yelling was distressing him. Cato stared at the man incredulously as he pinched the top of his nose and breathed in and out. "What are we doing to get them back, then?"

"Nothing," Plutarch answered. "We are on our way to District 13 where you, Cato, will take on Peeta's role as the leader of the rebellion in his absence-"

"I'm not going anywhere!" Cato exclaimed, missing the fact that Plutarch said District '13', the District that was supposedly destroyed in the first rebellion. "I'm going back to get Peeta, even if it means jumping off this hovercraft and walking to the Capitol!" The head gamemaker shook his head, as if what he was saying was ridiculous. "I'm serious, I'll do it!" He waved the scalpal in his hand flippantly to show them that he could cause some serious damage if he wanted to.

"Just stop already, Cato," Finnick sighed, sounding exasperated. "All our hands are tied here. There's nothing else we can do."

"Did you know this was going to happen?" Cato demanded, pounding the scalpal at him. "Did you know that these rebels or whatever were going to attack?" Finnick rolled his eyes and shook head, as if he didn't want to answer. "You did know! Why didn't you tell us you bastard?!"

"Most of your team were aware of it," Haymitch said tiredly. "Finnick, myself, Johanna, Beetee . . . in fact I think yourself and Peeta were the only ones in the alliance who didn't know."

"Why didn't any of you tell us?!" Cato exclaimed, horrified.

"Because you wouldn't have been able to hide it," the victor from 12 responded. "We didn't trust you two not to give it away on camera. The amount of times the fakery of the love triangle almost got destroyed because of both of you was astounding. I think we made the right decision in not telling you about it."

"Don't you have a whiskey to be inhaling?" Cato asked dryly.

"Already did, actually. Don't think once I get my strength back I won't knock you into place, boy," Haymitch answered.

"I can't believe this!" Cato shouted, his rage past the point of controlling. "We have to go back and get Peeta! We can't just ditch him like this!" The hand holding the scalpal shook uncontrollably and he gripped his wrist to steady it so he didn't look weak. He took a step forward and everyone else back up-except for Harold. The Capitol man looked at Cato, his expression pained.

He approached Cato not with caution but with confidence. His eyes were brimmed with tears and he gently prysed the scalpal out of the career's hand. Cato stared at him desperately, wishing that he would back him up on this. Why wasn't he backing him up on this?! Wasn't he supposed to be the one who loved Peeta as well? Shouldn't be fighting just as hard as he was?

The Capitol man blinked and two crystal clear tears dripped out of his eyes. It was like seeing Harold-the man who had always been either happy or angry, who never cried or got upset, who never shied away from how he felt-cry that made the truth finally settle in. Cato's eyes filled up as well-even though he rarely cried as well-and he covered his mouth with his hand in horror.

Harold wordlessly wound his arms around Cato's neck and pulled his head to his shoulder, the hug strange but not completely unwelcome. "It's okay," Harold said quietly, his voice not convinced one bit.

Cato's heart felt as if it had been trampled and left to die in his chest. Even the fact that Harold, the man who hated the ground he walked on, was hugging and comforting him, was like someone was just crushing his heart further into the ground.

"Stop talking like you're going to leave, you said you weren't going to leave!"

He felt like he had betrayed him. Cato had promised Peeta that he wasn't going to leave him until the very end. He had said he was going to keep him safe, protect him, and he couldn't even do that. The thought of Peeta being trapped in the Capitol, held prisoner, all on his own with no one to help him, terrified Cato. He couldn't bear the thought. It was squishing whatever remained of his heart.

He felt something jab into the small of his back and Harold's grip around his neck tightened as his knees buckled underneath him, like trying to hold him upright. They'd injected him with something. Cato's head began to spin and the floor slipped out from underneath him. Harold gently laid him down on the ground, his face remorseful.

As his head rolled to the side and his vision blurred, Cato murmured Peeta's name under his breath, savouring the feel of his partner's title before subcumming to the drug.

~xXx~

Cato awoke on a bed of some sort. The room spun around him and he blinked rapidly to steady it. He was hooked up to a machine that beeped along with every beat of his heart. There was a weight at the end of his bed and Cato forced himself to lift his heavy head to find the source. A smile crept up on his face as he saw a blond head, momentarily thinking it was Peeta.

"Oh Cato, you're awake!"

It was Kayla.

He didn't know whether he should have been disappointed or not. He was overjoyed to see his sister but annoyed that it wasn't Peeta. He wasn't sure why he thought it was him anyway. Peeta was most definitely in the Capitol. And he most definitely not going to be with him for a long time.

"Hey squirt," he croaked. "How are you?"

"Me?! Never mind me!" Kayla exclaimed. "How are you feeling? Are you okay after the sedative? Harold didn't want to inject you but he said he could sense a meltdown coming on and thought it was the only way to calm you down."

"I'm . . ." Cato didn't know how to answer. How was he feeling? He wasn't happy or okay or fine or alright. But he couldn't tell his sister that. Maybe she already knew . . . Kayla was staring at the floor, her fingers fiddling with each other nervously. "I don't know."

"They took him," Kayla said quietly. "You're not okay. Don't lie to me, Cato, I can read you like a book. You are not okay in the slightest." She bit her lip and swallowed hard. "And I don't think I am either."

Cato remembered how well Kayla and Peeta had bonded together over the year in the Victor's Village. They were so close they might as well have been related as well. That was what Peeta did, you see. He touched the lives of every single person he meets. Cato wondered how many people would be affected by his being held prisoner in the Capitol.

"It should have been me," he whispered.

Kayla looked horrified. "Don't talk like that, Peeta wouldn't want you to talk like that!"

"But it's true!"

"No one should be thinking or talking like that! Whether it be me, you or Peeta," Kayla hissed angrily.

Cato frowned, suddenly realizing that Kayla was here properly. "Kay, why are you even here?" he asked. "Aren't you supposed to be in 2? With mum and dad? What happened when the arena blew up?" He forced himself to sit up, suddenly woried about his parents and friends.

"When Peeta-or Mockingjay as every seems to be calling him for some bizarre reason-shot the force field, everything went haywire. The entire District shut down and Greene's patrol started prowling the streets . . . The lights went off and we were plunged into darkness. We're all fine, thank goodness, myself, mum, dad and even David are okay. We heard bombs going off in the distrance though . . . they completely obliterated 12."

"12?" Cato leaned forward and took Kayla's trembling hand. 12 was Peeta's home district, everyone he knew lived there. "Kay, did they say anything about Peeta's family? Are they okay? Are they safe?"

Kayla's eyes glistened and she held onto Cato's hand like a lifeline. "His brother is dead," she whispered. "His eldest brother Wayne was killed in the explosions. Thankfully Rye and his father got out. But . . ."

"But what?"

"Rye is in a coma and his dad is in a wheelchair," Kayla whispered. "They hit his entire family."

Cato put his head in his hands. He couldn't believe how hard life always seemed to punch Peeta, every single time while he got off alright. Not that he wanted his family to be hurt in their place, but he certainly didn't want Peeta's to have been hurt either. He was pulled from his thoughts as Kayla wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest.

"Cato, I'm so scared," she whispered.

"I know," he said, not bothering to even tell her that it was okay. Because he didn't know anymore.

He didn't know if anything was ever going to be okay again.

~xXx~

Capitol Prison

Peeta paced his cell nervously, fiddling with his hands nervously. He was trapped in a small space, lit up by only a small stick of light that was bursting from the bottom of the door. The air was thick, like the Arena air, and he could barely breath. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic and wanted to scream and tear at his hair.

It could have been days, weeks, minutes, seconds, he couldn't remember how long he had been trapped in the small room. It reminded him horribly of Mya's basement and he didn't like it. All he needed was two shackles around his wrists keeping him pinned to the wall and he'd be reliving it.

His body was stiff and aching, his leg having no feeling in it what-so-ever. The only way he was able to pace really was because of how small the cell really was and how he could prop himself up with his hands against the walls. Peeta couldn't help shivering in the cold room and he felt like he was going to pass out from fatigue at any moment, the desperation for answers being the only thing that kept him up.

He missed Cato horribly. He didn't even know if he was okay. He didn't know anything, really. Who had survived or who hadn't. Who was hurt or who wasn't. Who was here in the Capitol with him and who wasn't.

The material of the Quarter Quell wetsuit was sticking to his wounds, the sweat that was coating his body making the whole place stink. Peeta felt like he was stewing in his own filth, just waiting for someone to come along and tell him what the hell was happening. Sometimes he wondered if he could hear screaming in the distance but convinced himself that he was hearing things.

Eventually he had to sit down, his arms no longer able to hold him up. The floor was wet and grubby and he winced as he sat down. He was aching everywhere and wanted to just fall asleep. Deciding to close his eyes for only a couple of minutes, Peeta came to the conclusion that a couple of minutes sleep wouldn't do him any harm.

He was asleep for a couple of hours before something woke him up.

Someone was stroking his head gently and, in his sleepy haze, he believed that it was Cato. It was only a minute later that everything came rushing back to him. He forced his eyes open again with a confused frown and his heart dropped into his stomach.

The woman was so familiar, even though he hadn't seen her in years. A part of him thought he was dreaming, another wanted to cry and fall into her arms. Her blonde hair shone in the light spilling in from the now open cell door. The laughter lines by her eyes crinkled as she smiled, revealing peg by peg of ivory teeth. She reached out and cupped his cheek in her cool hand, seeming amused by the conflicted look in Peeta's eyes as he didn't know whether to recoil from or lean into her.

"Hello sweetheart," she whispered, her voice a mix of pleasure and venom. He had missed her voice so much, even though he didn't know why.

"Mommy?"

A/N: The final story in the series, 'Changed', will be posted up soon (:

Thank you for everyone who has read and reviewed this story! I hope I'll see you guys for the final story! :D

Please R&R!