Title: Teenage Wasteland

Pairing: Cato/Katniss

Rating: T-M

Summary: The Hunger Games are a means of controlling the districts, to keep them from trusting one another enough to lead a rebellion, but what happens when a certain 2nd District Career sees through it? Are Cato and Katniss really so different? How does this change the Hunger Games? Cato/Katniss

Warnings: Hunger Games setting with a spin, Violence, Language, Mild Sexual Content, Character Death, Slight altered reality, and other things I can't think of at the moment. If anything triggery I will post a warning beforehand. First Person

Notes: I've never read Hunger Games fanfiction, but this idea came to me while listening to this particular son by The Who, and it wouldn't leave. I figure if there are any Cato/Katniss fans they might like something new. I bet its a rather small crowd all things considering, but I find Cato and all of District 2 so fascinating. All errors are my own as I'm still treading the waters of the new fandom. I will do my best to keep them in character. I have an outline for the story, and four chapters already written.

Chapter One:

Born Killers

Cato:

My eyes are trained to spot the signs. I was born for this, I lived and breathed it. I didn't do it for the pleasure that appears on the surface. I didn't do it for the glistening gleam of crimson on silver. No – I did it because I know if I didn't agree the three little ones in my life would have to face it.

I'm a big brother, and my training is all that keeps me from crying out in frustration. To keep winning, not for honor, not for dignity, but for them. The three smiling faces that survive on my districts favoritism of the Capitol.

I try not to shudder when the artificial blonde comes over to rest her glistening palm on my forearm. Its a game, I was told to play it. I was trained to play it, maybe I'm brainwashed, but I can't escape this feeling of something burning deep inside of me.

I know what it is, my eyes are drawn just like everyone else in the crowd. I can hardly hear what the blonde girl is saying because my eyes are on a pair of panting red lips, sky grey eyes fluttering closed as if she couldn't believe what she had been forced to do.

I see it then as she quickly drops the hand of the boy next to her.

A facade. Everyone has one, and its how they survive or not in some cases. I see a tall dark skinned man - her stylist so unlike ours rush over to her and remove her headdress. I saw her during the Reaping. I watched it with Clove who sneered the whole time.

"How pathetic? She's just going to die now! No family is worth that!" I decide not to tell her that we are all going to die. Maybe she doesn't care, and just enjoys the games. I can already see it in my female mentor. Despite her ruthless gaze and sharp teeth, I can tell she has been used by the Capitol.

Despite the wealth of the 2nd District, we are not absconded from slavery. We are sugarcoated, but every Tribute has a role. Her role is the most devastating.

Clove is one of those who are ruthless, and a little unhinged.

My attention is completely taken by the female Tribute at the back of the pack. I see her as me, protecting what little she has. There's something different about her than the others in the crowd, and the many District 12 Tributes I have seen. Most of them are weak and worn, underfed and sickly. Some rarely ever make it being so poor, but this girl has a keen glint in her eyes.

A glint only those born into the life can recognize, which surprises me as Clove doesn't seem to notice it. Too caught up with her own jealousy to see beyond, but I see beyond.

I see the look of a natural born killer.

She is a predator.

I am her prey.

She is my prey.

I am her predator.

She's like a panther, the way she moves in that damning black unitard.

A shiver runs down my back as her eyes focus on me. Her pretty face devoid of emotion, and instantly I think, 'I want her.'

But that's impossible. I can't want her, unless its on the end of my sword. Still, my eyes never leave her, and she's looking at me.

I give her a smirk, and then she cocks one of her well crafted eyebrows as if in question. Yes, she is definitely one of them.

She can talk without words. I like that.

Too bad I have to kill her.

"I bet they slice like butter inside," Clove says to me in a dark purr. It really doesn't become her, and I look at her with a cock of my brow.

"You must not have been trained as well as I would have thought." She is infuriated instantly as I turn, and rip off the ridiculous headdress my stylist put me in. Some Roman getup, whatever the hell that meant.

What an idiot.

Its the next day, and I can't help but keep one eye across the other room where the girl from District 12 is stationed at the knot tying area. She has finally separated from her twin, and I can tell she seems mildly relieved.

From my position, she seems adequate. Clove is playing with her knives, and the girl from District 1 – Glimmer I think her name is seems to be having trouble with the bow.

It's then that I catch sight of it, a tell that the other Tributes don't seem to notice at all. A smirk on the girl from 12's face as she stares at Glimmer, and I once again understand without words. She is kind of an open book for the trained eye.

Her choice of weapon is the bow, but she's staying clear of it. I should tell Clove, but I don't. I don't know why, we are supposed to learn something about the other tributes while here, but instead I find myself moving before I can stop. Lucky for me everyone seems preoccupied, and they don't seem to notice my intent yet.

The small dark haired girl stiffens, and straightens immediately, and her eyes settle on me. I have to fight down a classic shiver because it most definitely is on fire.

"Girl on Fire," I can't help but say.

"Man in a dress," she says back, and that should piss me off, but instead it makes me smirk.

"Too bad I didn't get your stylist."

She doesn't smile, but I can see a tiny shred of playfulness in her eyes as she speaks to me with confidence. "I'd kill you first."

I can only grin at the perfect retort. "I bet you would." I lean closer, and take a look at her knot. "You should play with the archery station, show Glimmer a thing or two."

The girl's brows knit together as the wrinkle between them becomes pronounced. She looks cute, but I don't dare say that or reveal on my face that I think this. It could get me killed.

She is surprised by this as she looks over to see Glimmer struggling with the string of the bow. "What would I know?" But I see her eyes, the laughing that they are doing.

"Liar."

"Glimmer huh? What strange names..."

"As if Katniss is any better."

"Least I'll never go hungry finding myself," she says logically, and I can't help but chuckle quietly. She has spunk, no wonder her stylist made her a girl on fire.

I began to tie a few knots as well considering attention was starting to be drawn to us, my laughing probably. Clove is glowering at us, but I pay no mind. Out of the corner of my eyes I see a little girl, and I tense up, but I notice she's watching Katniss.

"You've got a shadow," I murmur too low for others to hear. As soon as Katniss turns, I see a flash of pain in her eyes, and quickly she goes back to her knot, and screws it up. Her mouth spreads into a thin line.

"Children..." Katniss can't help but whisper. I see the flame mixed with a pain from the Reaping.

"That was your sister called, huh?"

"I swear the Capitol does it on purpose. What are the odds? Two twelve year olds from outlying districts?" Katniss hissed ferociously. "My sisters was only one sheet of paper..." she realizes what she said, and went quiet, going back to the knot, and restarting.

"Nothing is coincidence, Fire Girl." I've been trained all my life not to give a shit, but they couldn't completely break my spirit because I do have three siblings – three that depend on me to get back home, and to give them the rewards that being a Victor will provide. "We all have our reasons."

"Glory, huh?"

"Maybe," I say. I shouldn't say much, I have been told not to, but maybe for once I am tired of being told to do something. Maybe that's why I keep talking to her, keep seeking her out. She knows, and she can understand. Its a weakness I can't afford to have, but thinking about my three little sisters all at home, I can't help it. I lean in close, aware of a soft pine scent coming from the girl. Katniss' eyes widen as I get closer, and now I can see every small invisible line in her face. Her fear, her strength, and I see her as human.

Now I know why I was ordered not to let emotions get in my way, but now that I'm here I have to finish. "Some of us, even the more wealthy districts don't have it as well as you may think."

"Sure... Careers."

I'm a little irritated by her tone of voice, but I can hardly blame her. We are the most hated and most feared. We kill more Tributes in the first five minutes of the games than anyone. I expect hostility, and I shouldn't have to explain myself, but I feel exposed with this small intelligent girl, and I want to explain. No, not want. I have to. "Do you know how Careers are made?"

"Not sure I want to know."

"Usually happens at birth, a poorer family has too many children, offer one up to be trained, and in return they are fed, housed, and taken care of better than the others. They are comfortable, until the Tribute dies, and then they are thrown out of that life, and back into starvation or worse." I shouldn't say more, but my mouth is moving before I can stop myself. My heart is pounding, and I see Katniss' head raise, horror in her face. She understands. She understands well.

"Why are you telling me this?"

I shrug. "Shouldn't."

Katniss frowns. "I hope this isn't a ploy or a strategy – hitting all my buttons."

"I don't think I'm that smart."

"... don't doubt yourself," she says after a second. She looks at my knot. "Here – you need to use your thumb, wrap it like this – and then underneath..."

"Girl knows her knots." I follow her lead, I never really trained in something so mundane. It was pointless I was told, but I can bet that nothing this girl does is pointless. "Kill mine, I kill yours?" I find myself saying before I can stop. Katniss freezes, and glowers at me darkly. I smirk at her. "I can make it painless."

For one brief moment I see that she wants to make the agreement, but I can also see that her moral code won't let her.

I'm done with the station, anymore lingering and people are going to start something that shouldn't be. So I let go of the knots, and as I pass, I whisper, "I hear they leave the training center open even at night. Its against the rules, but sometimes a Tribute will come down to really train. I think the Gamemakers do that in hopes of allies and enemies from the beginning." I smirk as her back stiffens, and I disappear completely over to the spears where they are gleaming and waiting for my experienced hands.

I don't know how to feel about our conversation as I start chucking them at the moving dummies, slicing one in half, and using the other to spear its neck. I never miss. I revealed a lot, and too much.

Marvel is smirking at me. "I guess trash can be hot, no matter where it comes from." The look on his face was nauseating, and I can imagine some of the ideas floating around his head.

I say nothing as I throw the spear harder, and it completely skewers one of the dummies in half. Marvel reminds me of my fellow trainees in District 2. Some are so over the top that they are practically inhuman.

She might not even believe me, and I don't blame her. I wasn't doing it to weaken her – no because that's foolish. If anything, a story like that would only make her stronger. She had everything to gain while I had nothing.

Clove is on my heels now. "What the hell was that, Cato?"

"None of your damn business," I snap, and aggressively shoot a spear until it gets lodged into the padding of the walls. I glare at it hatefully, my emotions rising and swirling to the top.

"Why are you talking to that pathetic hag?"

"Jealous?" I can't help but sneer. "She is a catch..."

Clove sneers. "Please... disgusting pig is what I call it."

"She's not the one about to come out of her training pants now is she?" I look down at her stomach. Marvel is now snickering silently behind her. She's got about fifty to a hundred pounds on Katniss. Clove has already made comments about Glimmer, but I found Glimmer fake and not at all pleasing to the eye. I bet she's deadly if given a chance.

In that moment, Clove looks like she is about to kill me on the spot. I smirk. "Try it, and you'll be dead weight before you know it."

You see, I have this problem because I'm not supposed to have emotions, but I do have them. Being trained like I was has twisted me – I know this. Its all I've known, killing. The Hunger Games will not be my first kills, I've already had them.

That's what makes us dangerous.

Born Killers.

What else can we be?

Katniss

I did my best to ignore the dark look that Glimmer and Peeta kept shooting me over lunch. Of course, Peeta said nothing, keeping up the pretense that we were happy, but I could see the smoldering look in his eyes. I don't know what Haymitch is thinking having us appear amiable, but I don't like it.

It only makes it harder in the end.

I had a hard time keeping conversation like Effie and Haymitch had ordered from us as I continued taking bites of a crescent shaped piece of bread with black seeds in it. According to Peeta it was the bread from District 11.

It didn't taste much different than our own drop biscuits at home except for the seeds.

"Poppy seeds," Peeta answered seeing the question on my face.

"Huh." They tasted really good. Then again everything I eat tastes good. I would never waste anything knowing that there are people out there in the Seam starving to death or struggling in the mines to make a few coins after a twelve hour shift just for some grain.

The Career Table was loud and rowdy, and it reminded me of the setup back home at school with the popular crowd. Peeta was always one of the popular students.

I tried to block it out, but I couldn't help but remember Cato from this morning. I couldn't get my mind wrapped around the fact that what he had told me was real. I'm sure it was a ploy to weaken me for the games. He must have thought that my devotion and loyalty to my baby sister was a weakness he could pinpoint, make me less likely to kill him.

I don't know. And the fact that he seemed to pick up on the fact that I liked the bow. How could he possibly know that? He insisted that he wasn't that smart, but I'm not fooled. I refused to look at him as I continue to ponder our conversation.

If I'm being honest, and I listen to my instincts they tell me that what he says is the truth. Why did he tell me of all people? I don't get it. Why would he even approach me. I couldn't possibly join the Careers. They had an agenda that was far more vicious than I could even dream. However, I won't deny that my conversation with Cato reminded me very vaguely of the conversations with Gale my best friend and hunting partner.

Now, I'm confused even more, and it angers me. I eat as much as my stomach will allow before I deny anymore that Peeta tries to send my way. I'm frustrated and confused, angry and a little sad. I don't want to feel sympathy for these people.

They are all my enemy right? Even Peeta, I have to kill him. Maybe I should have taken Cato up on his offer to kill Peeta for me, and in return I kill his partner. I glance out of the corner of my eye to see the brutish girl. She's playing with her knife, turning it over in her hand, and keeps observing the other tributes like they are a piece of meat.

If I had a bow, I could shoot before she could throw. I know I could. I glance at Peeta briefly. Can I really kill him? This boy who saved my life – who reminded me that my life is worth living?

I don't have long to live, but I can't help but wondering if I could get through these games or at least far enough to do myself proud, I could die happy. Gale promised to take care of Prim and my mother, and I know he will make good on his promises.

I think about Haymitch, and I wonder if I could ask him to take care of Prim. If I could get that promise then I could die happy.

I rose from the lunch table. "Where you going?" Peeta asked, and I tried not to twitch at the irritation of being forced to tell anyone where and what I was doing.

"I need to talk to Haymitch," I said cleaning my plate out so the Avoxes didn't have to. They already have it hard enough. Seeing that little redhead from my past reminds me just how insignificant I really am. There's no fighting the system because in the end we all wind up worse off.

"I can come with -"

"No need, this is something personal." I took off before he could stop me.

Haymitch as usual is sitting at the bar, nursing a large scotch. He stared at me for a moment. "What's my sweetheart doing?" he asked kicking the chair out for me.

I sit down, and turn to him. I brace myself. "I never mentioned it, but its likely I'm not going home." Haymitch's features darken, but he doesn't agree or disagree. "But – there is only one way I can rest easy. I know we've asked a lot from you, but I'm asking one more thing..." I trailed off as I tried to get my breathing under control.

Haymitch arched an eyebrow. "You have nothing to ask. I've already made plans sweetheart. I'll look after your sister and mother for you." An immense weight has been taken off my shoulders. "Perhaps, if you can go into that arena knowing that she will be taken care of – maybe – maybe it'll give you something worth fighting for to get you home, alive."

I smile, and though we have always had a rocky relationship, I can't help but kiss his cheek in thanks. "Thank you, Haymitch. I know Gale will do it, but he has his own family. I – I just can't trust my mother."

Haymitch took a swallow of alcohol. "I heard an earful from Peeta that you were talking with a career."

How did he know already? I don't think Peeta said anything are the Mentors able to watch the training from somewhere? I shrug. "I don't see what it matters. I'm not teaming up with them, I know better than that, but it doesn't hurt to talk, and see for myself what I'm dealing with."

"I think its brilliant," said Haymitch. "Go with your gut. Its the only way to get out alive." He was about to swallow that last of his glass when I swooped in, caught it with one hand, and downed it. He glared at me, but I could see a sparkling glint of amusement. "I hope that wasn't your gut talking."

"Maybe," I said as my eyes watered, and the alcohol burned my throat. "Besides, if I'm old enough to kill, I'm damn well old enough to drink."

"Cheers to that!" Haymitch hollered, and poured both of us a drink, and together we drank the scotch deeply together. "Just don't get plastered, you should go back down, make more friends."

I was struck curious about that for a moment, Haymitch had warned us on the train about the Careers. After the promise from Haymitch I felt better, a renewed spirit that I didn't know even existed in me. I felt as if I would at least do well enough.

I don't know what gave me that renewed hope. Whatever it was, I didn't care, I was going to grab hold, and never let go until I breathe my last breath. "I just hope – it doesn't come down to Peeta and me."

"..." Haymitch said nothing. He couldn't, I knew.

I slid off the stool, staggering a little causing Haymitch to bark a laugh as I gave him a rude gesture. I tightened my braid, and punched the button on the elevator.

As I staggered out back into the training room, everything was suddenly double. Whoa, whatever Haymitch had been drinking was getting to me. I felt buzzed, and Peeta was standing beside me suddenly – two of them.

"... are you drunk, Katniss?" Peeta asked horrified.

This got the attention of several Tributes as I shrugged. "What's it matter?"

"...I'm going to kill Haymitch."

"You're no boss of me," I said factually causing a hurt look to cross Peeta. "No one is. I have nothing to lose now." I waved him off as I moved steadily over to the snares and trap area, mostly to sit down in the grass that stretched across a risen foundation with different traps and wires that looked familiar from all my time in the woods with Gale.

The trainer was delighted that I knew what I was doing, and he decided to show me an advanced snare. I wasn't as good as Gale, but I certainly wasn't a lost cause.

There was a dinner that night upstairs, I remained out of the conversation for the most part as I didn't feel up to discussing things.

Haymitch looked like he was studying us, and thinking, but I couldn't tell under all the alcohol he was drinking.

That night when everyone went to bed, I crawled out of the bed thinking about what Cato had said. I knew I shouldn't leave the room, but I couldn't help it. Instead of slipping into my training gear, I pulled on a pair of black slacks and a shiny green sleeveless shirt that went to my thighs. It was snapped on the shoulder blades by gold brackets, and my hair was down and soft. It lay in curly sheets around my head as I tried to bunch it aside. I was barefooted as I padded across the vast sitting room to the hallway where the elevator sat waiting for me to make a decision.

My stubborn curiosity was driving me, and maybe I was feeling a little rebellious because I was soon going down to the training center.

It was dark except for a gentle glow, I knew I was probably being watched, but I didn't care. What more could they do to me? I crossed the room silently, and I can't help myself but to go straight to the bows. I ran my fingertips over the solid wood and metals, I knew my eyes were gleaming – I could feel the pull inside the itching to grasp a hold of one.

I chose a bow made out of a sturdy light wood, I smell it – and its not the pine that mine. I took a quiver and loaded it with some gorgeous red feathered arrows. They were sharp, and absolutely wonderful.

I pressed the button in front of the shooting range, and orange faceless humans began to run back and forth. I held the bow in my hand, pulling the taut strings, and took in a deep breath, and thought about the woods back home.

A deer to feed my family, and before I knew it I became lost in the shooting. One after another until more and more orange glowing dummies raced across my sights.

I killed everyone in my sights, and they exploded in shards. I moved minutely, knowing how much energy to put into each shot to get it just right. From the head to the heart, and then the last two I hit dead in what could be considered the eye.

I was so focused on it that I didn't notice the shadow, and when I did I swung around, bow ready. It was Cato, and his hands were up in a clear sign of defense.

"Not now, Fire Girl. That'd be bad sport when I'm not even in the Arena yet."

I took a breath, and lowered my bow. I glared at him. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it wasn't a good idea to sneak up on someone?"

"I didn't sneak up, I called your name, and you were gone." He smirked. "Your shooting is impeccable."

"I know."

"Cocky."

"No more than you."

"True – so – tell me how does a little girl from the 12th District learn to shoot?"

"How indeed?" I reiterated. I wasn't getting myself damned by telling him anything, especially if there were cameras and listening devices. I didn't want it to come back on my family. "Can you shoot?"

"I'd rather lunge," said Cato taking the bow, and then snagging an arrow from my quiver. He drew it back, and while he did it well, I could tell he wasn't accustomed to using it. His fingers were too thick even though his aim was steady.

He hit the first moving dummy in the foot, and then the knee. "A little higher, and I'll be impressed," I couldn't help but tease, and Cato snorted.

"I bet..." Cato said, and then aimed right for the crotch. "Impressed?"

"I'll give you an eight." Cato scoffed, and I shrugged. I don't know why I'm having such an easy conversation with him. I can't understand why. He was one of the ruthless, bloodthirsty Careers that I was trained to despise. He even had the look downpat, the only one even remotely bigger than him was the boy from 11. "Prove you can do better, and I might make it a nine."

Cato lowered the bow, and eyed me with scrutiny. "I'll secure you a bow at the arena."

I roll my eyes. "I don't need it secured."

"Yes – yes you do. If Clove gets even a second chance, you are dead."

"Not if I get her first," I promised.

"You won't see it coming. That's how all beginnings start."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask with a hand on my hip. "I mean nothing to you. I'm just a number."

"Perhaps that's true, but perhaps I also like challenges. I want to see what you can do, Fire Girl."

"Don't call me that," I snapped with irritation.

Cato smirked. "Kat then?"

I glared again. No one has ever called me Kat. If they did they'd be strung upside down in the nearest tree. I walked away from him at that, and examined the knives and swords glistening along the wall. "Call me Kat and I'll skewer you."

He finds this amusing. Glad someone does because I do not. Pet names, I hate them, except for Gale's.

Cato follows at my heels, and I don't know why. What is going on in that head of his? I couldn't help but wonder. I felt odd, not normal. Almost – giddy, and that was not something I was accustomed to feeling.

"So – were you really drunk coming down today?" he asked grinning as I balanced a few swords in my hand. I'm not very good with them, but I suppose they're like knives.

"Not really, had a drink with Haymitch."

"Yes, the head diving off the stage drunkard. I am so impressed," he mocked.

I shrug. "No time to be choosy." Cato conceded to that. "First time I officially met him, he puked everywhere." Cato snorted. "Took ramming a table knife into a wall to get him to sober up just enough to mentor us."

"Probably because he actually had a fighter in the group," said Cato wisely.

I was surprise that Cato would even say such a thing. "So, you do pay attention?"

"Enough. I'm told its pointless, all the outlying districts, but I still watch and learn. I probably pay more attention than they like me to. As you said, it can't be a coincidence that the youngest ones seem to come from the outlying districts."

"A lot of us take tesserae. I refused to let Prim do it," I said coolly as I used the dummies as knife throwing practice. I was nowhere near as precise as Cato's fellow Tribute, but I could hold my own. I hit most of the targets, three of the ten square in the chest.

"You look well fed."

"Imagine that?" I smirked at him, but said nothing more. I put the knives down, and pick up another sword. This one is heavy, but I pretend its not. I don't want him to see my lack of knowledge, but its obvious.

Cato arched an eyebrow. "Hm... you are not holding that right. Its not a knife." He took the sword from my hands, and then tossed it. "This will only get you killed." He fished around, and found one with a light weight, and handed it to me. "Follow me."

We went over to a mat, and even though Tributes weren't supposed to train with one another, we did anyway. He began to correct my hands, and showed me a few swift movements.

I should just drop it and walk away, but I find myself intrigued, and follow suit. "Never had much need for a sword." It would only slow me down during a hunt, but I don't say that out loud.

"Never know when you need it." It was obviously his favorite weapon of choice.

I didn't tell him I was ordered not to stay around the cornucopia due to the bloodbath. It would be tempting if there was a bow in the midst of it all, but I wasn't counting on it.

I stifled a yawn not long after, and Cato chuckled. "Sleepy, Kat?"

I hiss at the nickname, and he laughs even harder as if I've proved his point. I want to punch him, but he's so big I think twice. "I need to go to bed before I'm caught. Haymitch will have my head if he finds out I've been down here."

"Not to mention your little Lover Boy."

I glare even more harshly. "I do not like Peeta."

"I didn't say you did." Cato pointed out. I pause at that, frozen in horror at the idea. Cato snorted. "You didn't know? You couldn't tell?"

"Uhm... no?" Now I feel weird. I shake my head. I have no time to dwell on that thought. "Going to bed. Good night, Cato."

"Night, Kat."

"Jerk!" I call back, and all I hear as I punch the elevator button is his laughter, which isn't as ice cold or ruthless as I expected it to be.