TITLE: He Would Have Killed Her Nice
SUMMARY: "Don't you get it, Cato? He liked her," Clove taunts. (Marvel/Glimmer)
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. No profit. Etc.
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He gasps for breath, raising his head above the water and then dragging his body onto the shore of the lake. That's when he hears the canon.
Glimmer.
He rolls onto his back, still breathless. It's bright. The sun glimmers, shimmers on the water, sparkles on his wet skin like she sparkled.
He croaks out her name as he pulls himself to his feet. He knows the others have put it together but she's dead and they're saying nothing.
"So?" Cato snarls distractedly, picking up the sword he had dropped and turning his eyes back to the forest.
"She's dead!" Marvel shouts savagely.
"There's still three of us," Cato replies matter-of-factly. Loverboy and District 3 don't count, of course. The Alliance is strong enough with three. "It's fine."
"Fuck you, Cato," Marvel hisses, shoving the boy from District 1 with all of his diminishing strength.
Cato lifts his arm in confusion, not even angry, taking a step back through he's still sturdy on his feet.
"Don't you get it, Cato? He liked her," Clove taunts, squeezing the water from her hair.
Marvel is furious. Furious that she knows, that they know. Furious that Glimmer spent all of her time flirting with Cato and he doesn't even care that she's dead, was actually perplexed by a demonstration of grief for her. Fuck him, Marvel thinks, collapsing into the sand.
Tracker jacker stings line his limbs, and one swelling on the back of his neck forces his head forward.
Cato takes off back the way they had just come, in pursuit of Peeta and Katniss. "That bitch is going to pay," he shouts, the words trailing behind him.
Oh she's going to pay, Marvel repeats to himself, but not for pissing off Cato. She's going to pay for killing Glimmer. She's going to pay for killing Glimmer like that. For a moment he's confused, and begins to believe that if he kills the girl from District 12 that Glimmer will live again, and he likes the thought so much he craves to give into it and only a small part of him clings to reality white-knuckled.
"Don't be sad," Clove comforts, winding her way towards him like a snake, and maybe she is a snake. "You'll be joining her soon." He begins to think she is a snake, and her canines drip venom, and he scrambles away from her in terror, and she laughs maniacally but snakes don't laugh.
Marvel's on his back again and he sees the sun and he thinks of her. Of Glimmer. She was like the sun and now it's dark in this place. And he should be glad that he didn't have to kill her himself but he's not glad, he can't be glad. He would have killed her nice. In her sleep he would have kissed her and killed her nice, with a sharp knife and swift slice.