This is a "cheap" little one shot for my friend Faith. It's not very good. It's just sort of something I threw together and posted on here, for the rest of you, I hope you enjoy it. Don't be too harsh please. :D thank you.

"Faith," Cato yelled up the stairs, "I'm going out. I'll be back in.. a bit."

Faith sighed and fell back on the bed. What had her life come to? She used to be liked, loved even. She was by far the best trained female in District two. Everyone envied her, and now look what she was reduced to.

She was lying in a room in Victor's Village; her husband via arranged marriage was going out, no doubt to sleep with another woman. And not only that, she'd been so stressed about everything since the marriage she swore even at 20 she had grey hair. No one believed her, obviously. Her hair was so bright a blonde it was hard to tell.

Faith rolled off her bed and looked across at the bed pressed against the other wall, the one that belonged to her husband, Cato. Yeah, they didn't even share a bed.

She only hung around out of pity really, and because of her parents. Faith and Cato used to be a team. An unbeatable team. They were best friends, training partners...

When Cato came back after winning the games... something changed in him. He definitely wasn't the same guy who'd been her best friend, her first crush... The real Cato was gone. The man she was forced to marry... He was a monster who only sought to pleasure himself.

He'd tried to force himself on her once. Just looking for pleasure of course. Faith had been in the kitchen washing dishes. She grabbed a knife, her brain triggering a fight or flight instinct she'd gotten from years of training. She'd lashed out at him, slicing down his arm. No one in the district thought her capable of doing it without provocation. Naturally, everyone assumed it was an accident.

Faith used to be a sweet girl after all.

Something about being married to Cato for three years changed her. She had no friends anymore. No guy would even come close to her. Not that she blamed them.

She would be terrified of approaching any Hunger Games victor or his wife. Especially when said wife rarely left the house and used to be considered a deadly force herself. Faith was miserable; this life wasn't for her... Life with Cato wasn't for her.

She missed her old life, her old friends... She missed the old Cato. The one who used to be so kind to her, help her in training. The one who swore to her that if her little brother's name was drawn, he'd volunteer to take his place... The one that watched her little brother get drawn during his first year as mentor and never sent him anything to try and save him.

Yeah, the few people who talked to her now-a-days were shocked when they heard that. They couldn't imagine a nice version of Cato.

"Oh..." Cato came into the bedroom, "Sorry." He walked straight to the closet, completely ignoring her. "Forgot my jacket."

Faith snorted, "Yeah, wouldn't want to get cold while you're waiting for some woman to strip all your clothes off."

Cato turned on me, jacket in hand, anger burning in his eyes, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Stop it," Faith grumbled, sitting on the edge of her bed, "Don't pretend with me, Cato. We may not be close or friends even, anymore, but I remember how you act... You're off to see a girl. I'm not stupid."

"And how would you know that?" Cato asked with a snort.

Faith raised a curious eyebrow. There was no way he was actually questioning her on this. She knew him better than anyone, whether she liked it or not. "You haven't looked at me in days, and you saw your friends yesterday. Meaning that's not it. So, it can't be anything else."

"And you know this because?" His eyes narrowed, "Are you really watching me that much?"

Faith snorted, "Of course not. It's not like we're married or anything... I just know how you act before a date. Before the Games, you used to block me out and ignore me. It was some kind of guilt complex I never bothered talking to you about."

Cato raised an eyebrow, "You remember that?"

Faith sighed and ran a hand through her hair, "I remember all of it, Cato."

"What do you mean, all of it?" He asked, tossing his jacket to the side and crossing his arms.

She got to her feet and walked toward the door, "If you don't know, then I won't tell you." She reached out for the door, but immediately stopped when something went flying past her hand.

The pen Cato had thrown stuck in the door an inch from her finger, the force of the throw sticking it in the door, "What do you mean?" He growled, walking right behind her and yanking the pen out of the door.

Faith tensed. He'd never even paid enough attention to her to notice what she said, but now he was throwing things? She wasn't in the mood, and even though she'd stopped her training, that didn't mean she wasn't still smart about things like this.

Faith slowly reached a hand behind her and the second she felt his arm she twisted it, side-stepping and kicking at the back of his knee. He was down on one knee, arm twisted into a painful position behind his back with Faith leaning all her weight on him from behind, "Never," She whispered into his ear, "threaten me."

Cato chuckled, forcing his arm out straight and yanking hard on it, causing her to land on her back, him towering over her, "What were you saying?" He asked, a foot on either side of her, a glare on his face.

Faith slid down the floor and lifted her legs, wrapping around his waist from behind and yanking him to the floor before rolling so they were both on their stomachs, her sitting on his back with his legs bent underneath her arms. He cried out in pain as she moved farther forward on his back.

"I was saying," she spoke, leaning into his ear, "Don't threaten me. But you just did." She lifted her leg up and slammed it down on his shoulder blade, "I'm not that little girl anymore Cato. I don't worship the ground you walk on now. I'm over whatever freaky crush I had on you, and I know what you're like. So don't make me tell the rest of the world."

She placed both feet on his back and got up to a standing position before reaching forward and opening the door, walking off his back to stand in the doorway, "I always was better than you, Cato... Next time I won't show mercy."

And with that Faith walked out of the house. She didn't return until late that evening.

She'd gone out with the only friend she had left that would talk to her. Her friend, Lira, was shocked to hear Cato was capable of such a thing. She still thought of him as Faith's training partner, and occasionally her husband who was MIA all the time.

Neither of them thought Cato was capable of such a thing, but Lira's sister, Tamara, found it totally probable.

The trio had been talking for hours, trying to figure out what triggered such a response from Cato. It wasn't the first time Faith had said something like this to him, yet it was the only time he'd responded.

"And you just left him lying on his butt in your bedroom?" Tamara questioned her.

Lira snorted, "She's got style, I'll give her that."

Tamara nodded in agreement, "Back on topic," She leaned across the table toward Faith, "Did you take a picture? Cause I feel this moment needs to be documented. No one's going to believe Cato got his butt kicked by his wife."

Faith snorted, "Thanks." She stared off out the window. "He's going to be pissed, and like it or not, I still see my friend every time I look at him... If he actually hit me... I couldn't hit back."

"Well," Tamara got to her feet, "If you ever need help, call us. We'll be happy to let you pin him down while we do our work." She cracked her knuckles.

Lira rolled her eyes, "She specializes in knives and she's cracking her knuckles." Faith laughed. It was true.

"Well you do it then!" Tamara slapped her arm. Lira smirked and cracked her knuckles fairly loudly. Both of them were still Reaping age. Tamara was 17, and Lira was 18. Unfortunately, despite Lira's protest about dangers, Tamara actually wanted to be chosen in the reaping. Their step brother, Marc, had been chosen three years before Cato and came back a Victor. He'd preached it into Tamara's head that you had to win, had to prove yourself in this world. Tamara believed him. She was young and naïve.

Marc's preaching had made Lira furious. She despised him for putting thoughts like that in Tamara's head, thoughts that were practically suicidal. The anger was too late now though; the dyes had been cast and Tamara was planning to go.

"You and me," Tamara pointed at Faith, "Tomorrow, hand to hand practice?"

Faith nodded, "My place. See you at five."

Tamara smiled and waved to them both, "If you'll excuse me, I have dummies to throw knives at..." She picked up her bag, "And I mean targets, not the idiots that hang around the center trying to act cool."

Lira and Faith laughed, watching Lira's sister jog off down the street and around the corner.

"She's dead set on this?" Faith asked, scrunching her eyebrows together.

Lira nodded, "She said depending on who the male choice is, she's going to volunteer... It won't be pretty."

"Maybe..." Faith sighed and stared up at the sky, "I hate saying it, but maybe she could talk to Cato... He doesn't like me, but I've heard him and his buddies talking about the Games all the time. He could give her a few pointers if she's dead set on it."

Lira smiled over at Faith, "Really?"

Faith nodded, "I can only train her so much. I've never actually been in the arena... In theory my ideas may work, but you can't deny what works in execution."

"You'd ask him for her," clearly Lira didn't think she'd talk to Cato about it.

"Of course," Faith nodded, "Anything to help."

When Faith got home that night she was shocked to see Cato lying across the couch staring at the ceiling. "Hey," she said, nodding her head to him in acknowledgement.

"Hi," He said, sitting up. "Where'd you go?"

"Since when did you care?" She asked, unwrapping the scarf from her neck. His eyes narrowed, and Faith decided it wasn't the time to fight. "I went out with Lira and Tamara. Just for a walk. Tamara wanted to go train."

He nodded and got to his feet, heading for the kitchen.

Now or never, Faith thought. "Hey." She called after him, causing him to turn, "Would you maybe... talk to Tamara? ... She's pretty dead set on volunteering for the Games."

"Why don't you talk to her?" Cato asked, "I doubt I'd be able to convince her out of it. I'm not good at that sort of thing."

Faith snorted and rolled her eyes, "I'm not trying to convince her out of it. I've been there, tried that. I was wondering if you'd... train with her. I can only do so much. And what I do may work in theory, but you've actually been there."

Cato's face softened for a second and he nodded, "Sure, I'll talk to her about it."

"Thanks... She's going no matter what we say. It's nice to know she might have an edge." Faith actually just thanked Cato.

She turned, ready to go up the stairs when Cato said, "I remember."

"What?" She asked, turning to him.

He nodded and walked toward her, leaning against a section of wall next to her, "When we first started training, you promised me that if my sister got drawn, you'd volunteer for her, and I was mad because I wanted someone else to promise me that, because I hated the idea of losing you... And I promised you the same thing about your brother... I couldn't volunteer for him, but you must know that I'm so sorry I failed him."

Faith nodded, mostly out of shock. She never expected him to mention it. Every night for two months she cried herself to sleep over her brother's death and not once did he give any words of comfort or apologize for not saving him.

"When we were about 14 when you made me promise that if I did go in the Games I'd come back... It was a stupid promise, you know," He said, stepping closer to her. He brushed the hair out of her face, "I'm sorry... I didn't really come back you know... I always thought going in the Hunger Games would be cool, but it destroyed me. I wasn't the same person after that."

Faith rested a hand on his shoulder, "It's okay."

"Did you..." He hesitated, actually seeming nervous, "Did you actually... you know..." She had no clue what he was talking about. "Like me? Earlier you said you had a crush on me."

"Oh," She whispered, shocked she'd let that slip, "Um... well yeah."

"When did you stop?" Cato asked her, hurt coloring his face.

"What?" Now Faith was really confused.

"You said you used to... past tense. When did you stop liking me?" Cato clarified.

Faith stopped and thought for a moment, "I..." She didn't want to say it, but she felt compelled to tell the truth, "I don't think I did... I was just angry, I guess."

"You mean," He whispered, leaning in. "You did, and you... you never stopped?"

She nodded, and before she could even open her mouth to confirm he was kissing her.

Once again, hope you liked it. Please tell me what you think.