*Lemons, Angst, Smut and plenty of well written romance is all I can promise you*

Readers of my 'Waking Up' Peeta/Katniss story have no need to fear. I promise I will continue to update every few days, just like I always have!

I just want to say that I'm an avid Peeta/Katniss fan, but I love reading new stories that allow my mind to open up and see how different things could have been if there were slight changes. I can only hope that you do too! Plus, I love the potential for fire between Katniss and Cato. Cato is sexy, strong, capable and talented, just like Katniss! They're a good match ;)

This story will follow the books for the most part, the only difference being that, of course, Peeta dies, Cato lives, and the rebellion happens a little sooner than in the books. Enjoy and remember to REVIEW, so that I know you want me to keep writing on this story!

Love . Nicolette

ox Chapter 1 xo

Katniss' POV

What else could I have done?

This is the question that occupies my thoughts, every second, every minute, every hour of every day.

What else could I have done?

I close my eyes and recount those life changing events. How can I live through thinking about it, you might ask? With painful ragged breaths. One in. One out. Repeat.

I spent nearly three days on top of that cornucopia. The Gamemakers still sent blistering heat throughout the day, heat that turned the interior of the cornucopia into a massive makeshift oven. Making the smell from the body within absolutely unbearable. The nights brought freezing cold, but they must have wanted me to live, because it never got quite cold enough to stop the blood from pumping through my veins.

I couldn't decide if this was a good or a bad thing.

I also couldn't bring myself to move away from my perch on the cornucopia. Knowing the mutts made frequent rounds on the ground below and would surely be back to finish me off. If I die then he will have won and Peeta will have died in vain.

On the second day they sent me rain. In my weakened state I still somehow managed to lay back and open my mouth, drinking in what happened to fall my way. Surely I would die soon, just drift away in the dead of night, hopefully in my sleep, not realizing that I let Peeta's killer win.

But who am I kidding?

In reality, I am Peeta's killer.

Although it was night, you could hardly tell. The full moon hung high in the sky, lighting everything it touched as if it were the sun.

The threats that I shouted meant absolutely nothing to Cato, you could see the crazed look in his eyes. The inevitability of his impending death was no secret to him. He was a man who had nothing else to lose, and with the last few breaths allotted to him, he was going to murder my partner. Since he couldn't murder me.

I stood with bow string stretched taut, ready to fire. My feet slid nervously on the smooth metallic surface of the cornucopia, trying to find purchase. My mind fought a desperate internal battle, trying to decide what would be the best course of action. Of course I thought of nothing, if I shot Cato in the head, he would drag Peeta down with him. If I did nothing, he would strangle Peeta to death. I watched helplessly as the life began to drain from Peeta's eyes. But as they began rolling into the back of his head, Peeta began to make a strange gesture with his arm. Something that looked like he was pointing toward Cato's hand.

Cato's finely toned right arm was wrapped tightly around Peeta's neck. I watched the tendons in his arm flex as they fought to completely cut off Peeta's supply of oxygen. Peeta was turning several shades of blue, and to be honest, I'm not sure now if he was even coherent enough to make any kind of gesture at all. The memory seems tainted somehow, it seems like every time I try to imagine what he was trying to tell me with his hand, it looks different in my mind. Sometimes it seems like he was definitely telling me to shoot Cato's hand. Sometimes it seems like he was just struggling madly for his life, arms flailing in one last desperate attempt to save himself.

But something that he did in that moment must have convinced me beyond a shadow of a doubt that Peeta wanted me to try shooting Cato in the hand. Because that's exactly what I did.

It didn't work, of course. Cato was shocked, he stumbled backward, still managing to grab Peeta and take him down with him to the hard unforgiving ground at the opening of the cornucopia. I ran forward and tried desperately to latch on to Peeta, and caught the front of his shirt, but realizing that I was going to go down with them...

I let go.

I let go and watched helplessly from above as the mutts descended upon Peeta and Cato. I watched in horror while the largest one latched onto Peeta's neck, shaking him like a rag doll while another mutt sunk it's teeth deep into Peeta's leg.

I looked away.

I heard a cannon sound.

Peeta was dead.

I sat for a long time. Not crying. Not thinking. Not moving. Listening to the noises of the mutts below, listening to some kind of struggle, I hear one of the dogs yelp in agony and my eyes fly open. Was Peeta alive? Perhaps it was Cato's cannon I had heard? But no, Cato had managed to rip the arrow I had shot out of the back of his hand. Driving it deep into the skull of one of the mutts, before ripping it back out and lashing out at the others. Blood flew. Mutts yelped.

I wondered how he could possibly still be alive, when I see the moon reflected in his back.

Oh right. The body armor.

I think for a moment that maybe I can kill him with my final arrow, end these horrible games, allow myself to go back to Prim. I reach over my shoulder and pull out my final lifeline. Placing it in the bow and prepare to shoot. Aiming for Cato's head.

I watch as a mutt sit back on it's haunches, preparing to lunge and snap Cato's neck with it's deadly incisors.

I let the arrow fly.

Cato turns his body at the sound of an arrow hitting thick flesh.

I missed.

His eyes dart from the arrow sticking out of the eye of the mutt behind him, and then up to me for a split second. Then he immediately turns back around to the other mutts. He swipes the arrow in his hand at the other three waiting to tear him apart, but moves over to yank the arrow from the one I've killed.

He doesn't look my way again.

He just begins to run towards the lake. Running like mad, running like the athlete he's surely been trained his entire life to be. Two of the mutts follow him, one stays to gnaw on what's left of Peeta's corpse. Pulling him underneath me, inside the cornucopia. Two more of the beasts pace around on the ground below me. Waiting for me to descend. Which I won't.

I spend all night rocking back and forth on the cold metal of the cornucopia, hugging my knees to my chest. My body wracked in sobs, shaking from the cold. Listening to the horrible sound of cracking bones as a mutt cuts it's teeth on Peeta's bones below me.

I wait for Cato's cannon to sound.

But it doesn't come.

xoxo

Cato's POV

The mutts don't swim very well. They launch themselves into the water. But something about the way that their body is designed keeps them from being able to stay treading water for more than a few seconds. Unfortunately, they do manage not to drown. But apparently they aren't willing to try and swim out to me, some kind of instinct to survive must be imbedded deep inside of them, because they head back to shore every time.

Of course, this won't last for long. I can't stay here for any real length of time.

I lie on my back, taking deep slow breaths to keep myself afloat in the center of the lake.

I don't like lying here. It makes me feel weak and defenseless. Which of course, is exactly what I am. I'm out of control of the situation. The worst part is I can hear them stepping back from the waters edge and running full-speed to launch themselves at me, splashing in the water not far from me. Jaws clamping viciously a few feet from my face, before they sink, and emerge a few minutes later, soaking wet on the shore from which they came. But I can't turn my head to look at them. Every time I even let out a breath my body begins to sink below the surface of the water. I'm forced to take a quick breath, hold it for as long as I can, and then let the air out quickly so I can pull in another breath. It's slowly making me dizzy. The armor is lightweight, but certainly not weightless. It threatens with each exhale to pull my body down and never let me return to the surface.

But what other choices do I have?

I try again to pull my hand out of the water. Letting it rest on my chest, hoping that the wound will close up and stop bleeding soon. It's superficial, yes. When out of the water and wrapped in a dry fabric. But the water keeps washing away any of the clotting my body has been able to do, and the perfect hole that that District Twelve scum's arrow created in my hand threatens to bleed me out if it doesn't scab over soon.

I close my eyes. Then snap them back open. I can't fall asleep.

The monsters seem to have stopped trying to jump into the lake. But they still circle, knowing that I have to leave the water soon. I realize that the temperature is relatively warmer than it was the night before. I know that the Gamemakers aren't doing this to help me, who's soaking wet and in freezing water. But the District Twelve bitch, who's probably still perched on top of the cold metal of the cornucopia.

I wonder if she was aiming for me and shot the muttation on accident. Or if she felt pity on me and tried to help. Stupid, weak girl.

A flash of the deep brown eyes of the muttation that I stabbed with that arrow flash across my brain. Now I actually do close my eyes tight.

'They were not Clove's eyes. They were not Clove's eyes. They were not Clove's eyes.'

The mantra plays over and over in my mind, but it's not convincing.

I think about how pathetic I must look to my family and tutors back home. Floating in a lake of water, hiding in the open. What an awful weakling I am. I wish I could hide myself from the cameras that are no doubt watching my every movement. I will most likely be dead by morning and I hate that the last few moments of my life will be shrouded in embarrassment and shame.

But I'm terrified.

More terrified than I've ever been in my entire life.

The great Cato. Reduced to a quivering terrified little boy. Floating on the surface of a lake to avoid being mauled by puppies. What a disgrace I am.

The muttations have settled down, sitting quietly, watching me on the water. Barely making a noise, if it weren't for their wet ragged breaths, I wouldn't even know they were there.

If I listen carefully when I'm holding my breath, I can hear the sobs from the girl on the cornucopia.

If she loved him so much, why doesn't she just throw herself to the dogs? Why doesn't she just end her misery instead of embarrassing herself on national television.

She'll be the most pathetic victor in Panem's history, next to that Annie Cresta who simply managed to not drown. And went completely and utterly mad during the games.

'They were not Clove's eyes. They were not Clove's eyes.'

I'm not sure how long I've been floating, but it feels like days. Although the sun hasn't come up. I realize I can't hear the panting of those strange dogs anymore and allow myself to stop floating long enough to look around.

They're gone.

Surely it's a trick. I'm not stupid. I know how popular that District Twelve girl is. I know that they would much rather have her as a victor than me. They're trying to lure me out.

But what choice do I have?

I gently wade over to the edge of the lake, to a place that I can sit, while still being mostly submerged in the water. I can't bring myself to leave the safety of it. Although, I'm not really very safe unless I'm far out in the middle of the lake.

I stop and listen carefully for any rustle of a leaf, any snap of a branch, any indication at all that the dogs lie in waiting for me. I wait for a full ten minutes. Hearing nothing, but the distant sobs of the girl on the cornucopia.

It's now or never. I reach behind me and yank out the two arrows that I've collected. My only weapons now. I break them in half. Taking the top halves with the sharp metal arrow heads. I toss the remains of the arrows into the lake behind me.

I rip off two long shreds of the hem of my shirt. Holding the arrow tight in my left hand while I wrap the fabric around and around with my right, securing it tightly to my hand. I fumble with my right, trying to do the same with it. Using my teeth to maneuver the fabric around. I realize that it isn't possible to knot it and give up. My mind can't think clearly with the cold, and the fear. My body isn't used to the fear. I've never had much reason to be afraid in my life. Not since I hit puberty anyway.

I stand up and take two steps out of the lake with the arrows in hand. One fastened tight to my left and gripping the other with my right as if my life depends on it, and it probably does.

Behind me I hear something growl. I have no chance of running, no chance of swimming back out to the middle of the lake. And even with all this preparation, I don't feel as if I can take down the remaining mutts by hand.

The only option I have is to climb; climb for my life.

I remember briefly trying to climb up a tree earlier in the games to kill the fire girl. I simply ended up embarrassing myself when the limbs broke beneath my boots. I hope that isn't what's about to happen right now.

I take off full speed towards the nearest sturdy tree. I hear one of the mutts lunge at me at their teeth snap mercilessly at my heels.

A few feet away from the tree I take a flying leap. My body hits the tree hard and I ram both arrows into the trunk, firmly planting myself about 5 feet high. I wince as I feel my right hand dig into the arrow head itself with the force of my impact, but I have no time to dwell.

The mutts can jump too. Ridiculously high, one has latched onto my foot and I struggle to kick it off. I see the other in the distance running towards me ready to leap onto me and pull me from the tree. I have to climb.

I pull the right arrow out of the trunk of the tree and reach up to plant it a foot higher, using nothing but the muscles in my arms to drag myself up the tree. I do this again and again, climbing slowly. One of the muttations is still latched onto my leg, and I'm surprised that it hasn't torn it clean off. The only thing keeping it from doing just that is the body armor that protects my skin.

I send up a whispered 'Thanks for the body armor'. Still, for some reason, playing to the crowd. Even when I know that no more help from sponsors will come in these last hours before the end of the games.

Time drags and every muscle in my body aches. My arms are threatening to give way when I finally reach the first thick branch of the tree. Nearly 20 feet high. The dogs are far below me now, except for the one that I've been dragging up the tree with me. I gave up attempting to kick him off nearly an hour ago. Every once in a while he moves his teeth around, scraping the body armor, and I can feel his tongue lapping at the blood dripping from my foot.

I literally can't wait to reach the branch so I can bury an arrow into his skull.

Which is exactly what I do.

xoxo

Katniss' POV

Two days later, it happened.

Something that both saved me and doomed me.

I was lying on death's door. I knew it was coming. I hadn't eaten, my body was weak, I had only drank a few gulps of water that I managed to get down during the rain storm. I had no idea where Cato was or if he was still alive. For all I knew he was back at the Capitol, enjoying some lamb and plum stew. Watching me die out here on this cold metal symbol of the Hunger Games.

I noticed that I couldn't hear the noises of the mutts anymore, but they have been coming and going for hours on end.

Off in the distance I hear a mockingjay make the call that alerts me a hovercraft is near by. It materializes noisily above my head and I look up at it. It looks fuzzy and I can't quite make out what's happening. My second experience with dehydration in the games.

Did it come to collect Peeta's body? Did they get tired of waiting for me to move from my post? I watch the ladder descend down next to my body and realize, I must have won. I must not have heard the cannon, but Cato must be dead.

I somehow manage to roll to my side, reaching out and wrapping my weak fingers around the bottom rung of the ladder. This is enough, my body freezes and I'm pulled inside. When I reach the top, I'm deposited into a large stainless steel room. I realize I'm not alone, it doesn't take long before my eyes catch the most terrifying sight I've ever seen.

Cato.

He's sitting on the floor across from me with his back propped up against the wall. One of my arrows is strapped to his hand. He looks at me with furious, deep blue eyes and I watch him fumble to stand, he's covered in blood and sweat and dirt. His foot looks mutilated and sits in a pool of blood. Blood smears along the floor when he drags himself toward me. I panic. I'm lying on the floor, but I try to use my arms to slide my body over to the opposite wall of the metallic room. He's moving slowly, he looks weak and sick. He winces as he drags his injured foot along the floor.

Did the Gamemakers get fed up with us hiding from the mutts and decide to force us to fight to the death in a hovercraft hurdling towards the Capitol?

"Tributes are to remain seated. Away from one another."

A female's voice calls to us from a loudspeaker mounted to the wall.

Cato stops moving, but doesn't sit, still glaring at me with dark, hate-filled eyes. I know he can see the fear in mine, but I don't care. My mind is going wild.

What the hell is going on?

A loud noise erupts around us and the hovercraft rocks to the right harshly. The lights flicker. I notice the change in Cato's expression, from hate to fear in a split second. We sit still for a moment, when another explosion causes the hovercraft to tilt again. I watch as Cato loses his balance and begins to fall but before he hits the floor, the lights go out.

xoxo

I've had this story in my head for literally days, I decided to type up the first chapter and post it even though I'm still working on my Katniss/Peeta fic.

I have big big big big plans for this little beauty! Expect lemons, drama and absolutely no OOC writing. (The biggest killer of fanfics in my opinion.)

So review and let me know if you want me to continue!