You just know that Peeta is going to have a thing or two to say about your sneaking out so late at night. He's practically a mother to you now, and it's a painstaking reminder of how little you miss having a parent always over your shoulder, dictating exactly what you can and cannot do. Your own mother hasn't been like that since before your father died, and, even then, she was passive at her strictest.
Sure enough, he is there waiting for you as soon as you return to the floor. He instantly begins to chide you for being out so late, pegging such a move as "irresponsible" and "risky" - his words, not yours.
You decide not to tell him where you were or who you've been speaking to. Cato's words resonate in your head, the ones about your shared interaction being considered fraternization, and such a label is not something you're willing to bear the load of quite yet.
Cato's visage swims in your clouded mind as you shut the door to your room, Peeta's feeble attempts to dissuade you of your "mistake" forced to remain outside of your immediate line of sight. Undoubtedly, he will rat on you to both Haymitch and Effie, but, just for tonight, you don't care. The male from Two is the only thing on your mind.
::::
By the time you are instructed to get dressed in the required uniform, you are practically itching to get moving and to see the blond boy haunting you.
Surprisingly, you are not reprimanded by your handlers as you and Peeta make your way to the training facilities to prepare for the day and listen to opening remarks from the head Trainer.
Tributes pool in little-by-little, and you are careful to disguise your wandering eyes in case anyone of importance should happen to notice that your attention was solid and not fleeting as you'd have them believe. In fact, you were just waiting for him to show up. And that's when he did.
He came in, his stride prideful and definitely cocky, a side of him that you hadn't seen last night. He had been genuine while with you, but here, amid Trainers and under surveillance by the Gamemakers, he was amid his element, he was a Career. The fact that this side of him exists bothers you slightly, though it is no surprise. An interesting factor to you is the effect that his presence has on the other Tributes, all intimidated by his towering stature, broad frame of muscle, and violent demeanor. It's like they can sense that he is hunting them. Their fears are justifiable. They are already prey.
You glance up at him briefly, yuor gazes catching and conveying the need - nay, the desire - to be closer. HIs eyes blink and he shivers, his eyes no longer gazing into yours. You feel that the risk is now palpable and is ever-thickening towards discovery. You decide to remove your eyes from him entirely, knowing that he is still there, a statue for your visual pleasure as you need it. And, damn, you need it.
The fact that your attraction to this boy that had literally caught your attention overnight was a testament to your belief that there was something between the pair of you worth pursuing. While intimidating, you find that Cato is quite easy on the eyes. He is immensely handsome and more than capable, a promise that he will do what it takes to keep you close and bring you still closer together.
"In two weeks, twenty-three of you will be dead." No other speech you've ever heard has started off with such a blunt statement, and you hear several Tributes gasp a bit. All you can think is "No shit!" as if they should've already faced death mentally. Hell, you've done that hundreds of times.
The Trainer continues speaking to you and impulse wins out. your gaze flickers up towards Cato and, originally, he is not looking at you. That changes quickly. His blue hues flash in your direction, a smarmy kind of partial smirk stretching his threadlike lips. Your heart murmurs and you rapidly blink to once again turn your gaze elsewhere. Your thoughts on him remain, however, but you find it comforting, in spite of the atmosphere.
When the Trainers instruct for the Tributes to disperse, they do, and you do as well. Most of them make their ways to the melee bits to gain hand-to-hand combat skill with a Trainer, while others head for the obstacle course and individualized weapon stations. You are in line behind the boy from Ten who is busy whacking away at a Trainer with a wooden club, and that's when you hear a noise from nearby, a commotion beginning, and it all starts with a familiar and much-missed voice.
"Hey, Six, where's my knife, huh?" Cato says, approaching the seated boy from District Six with gruff and determination.
"What're you talking about?" the boy responds, standing as Cato comes towards him more roughly as if about to shove him and begin attacking him. The former occurs, the latter is prevented by a nearby handler.
"I put my knife right there, and now it's gone!"
"I didn't take your knife!"
"Yes, you took my knife!"
At the boy from Six's repetition of his previous claim, two Peacekeepers were required to pull Cato back from the boy effectively, the brutish boy nearly overpowering them. This leaves you a bit breathless, your heart racing. You want Cato to stop, but you say nothing, watching on as an innocent bystander instead.
"Don't touch me!" Six says as Cato shoves him and is about to do more. "I didn't take your knife!"
"You took my knife, you liar!" Cato bellows, voice catching the attention of the entire populace inside of the training zone.
"I did not!"
"You liar!"
"You little punk! You took my knife!"
"I was just sitting here!"
"Get off me!" Cato said through gritted teeth to the Peacekeepers, loosening himself from their grasp and managing to get free. Instead, he paced back and forth, eyes dead-set on Six and his demeanor reminding you of a caged predator waiting for his moment to strike. "I'll finish you off right now, kid." Cato stopped pacing and instead gave the boy a more serious look. "Actually, better yet - I'll wait for the Arena. You're the first one I'll get, so watch your back."
The head Trainer blew her whistle a few times to signal for everyone to return to their training modes.
Cato backed away, a sick kind of snicker filling the space between himself and the now at-risk boy from Six. "You know who you're messing with." Turning on his heels, he stalked towards the weapons station, and you are relieved that it's over.
A bit later, you are grateful to be working at the survival stations, the faux grass giving you more comfort than you'd imagined. Your skills in the wilderness are second-to-none, but practice couldn't hurt, so you do as you're supposed to.
"Looks like you've got a shadow," Peeta comments from his place in the camouflage station beside yours. You barely hear him, but his words have weight. You glance up from your snare to see the small, dark-skinned girl from Eleven peering at you from behind a pillar. You are instantly reminded of Prim and your heart sinks.
You gesture for this girl to come closer, a non-threatening kind of smile crossing your lips. This is now the fourth time you've caught her staring at you, and now it's time to find out why. "What's your name?" you ask and, for a moment, she stands in silence.
"Rue."
"I'm Katniss."
"I know."
You wipe your hands on the sides of your pants and stand, smiling down at her innocent appearance. "Why have you been watching me, Rue?"
She is sheepish for a moment, but finally removes her hands from behind her back and shows you what she has been concealing. It's a shiny blade. "It belongs to that boy from Two." Your eyes want to widen and your breath wants to catch in your throat, but you don't allow either of them the pleasure of making you look affected by this statement. "There was this rock with it." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small flat stone that appeared to have etchings on its surface. "I didn't know they meant so much to him or I wouldn't have taken them."
Your mind reels. This is your chance to get to speak to Cato in public, even if malicious words are shared and violent feelings become reality. A chance is a chance. "I can return them for you, if you want."
"They frighten me."
"They don't frighten me," you comfort, outstretching your hand. Timidly, she places each item into your opened palm before flashing a smile and scurrying away. You clench your fist around the items and march your way over to the weapons station, Cato's broad back facing you as he prepares for swordplay. "Hey, Two."
Cato perks up and wheels around, his eyes narrowing at the sight of you. "Well, well. Come to surrender now, or do you want to play first?"
That very sentence has a strong effect on your skin, enough to produce goosebumps, but you remain stoic and unmoved. "Here. Found this at the obstacle course. Six didn't take it." You show him the knife, handing it over with a straightened elbow and unquivering brow.
"Bullshit," Clove grumbled from Cato's side.
"Clove, I'm handling this." The small, blade-wielding threat stalked off, ranting to Marvel, the boy from One, as she did so. "So, you've come to admit you stole it, eh?"
"Not at all. I found it."
"Sure." His voice is attempting to make himself sound uncertain, and that's when it becomes clear to you that this was all a ploy to get to talk to you. "What the hell is that?" He is referring to the rock in your other hand.
"No clue. Found it with the knife. It's all marked up and dried out. It yours?"
He scoffs, swiftly stealing the knife away from your hand and almost slicing your palm open in the process. "Hell no. With all these weapons at my disposal, I don't need a fucking knife for back-up."
"Fine," you say, allowing your tones to harden. Your heels spin you around so that you can walk away with the final word.
"Hey, Twelve," Cato says, his voice catching you in your path. "You might wanna skip that rock across the water. You're gonna fucking lose no matter what anyway." He laughs at his own joke and you shake your head, giving the appearance of total frustration as you march back to the snare you'd been working on before. Once you're back, you recall that you still have the rock in your hand.
If that entire turn of events had been planned out so that Cato could get to talk to you alone, his allowance in giving you this rock was a signal, a message. Perhaps that's what the markings on its surface are for. He had said to skip it across water, a point that he had disguised to sound like childish pasttimes are your only true talent anymore, but you suspect that water on this rock might give you the answer that you need.
The water pool nearby is small, just enough to train Tributes in the art of extracting and treating fresh water while in the wilderness. You're about to use it for a different reason. You allow the rock to slip into the water and you let it sit for a few seconds before extracting it and settling it into the grass, making sure that the blades of green were tall enough to mask what you were about to uncover. When the water evaporates from the stone, you are thankful that you possess intuition and that you had been able to decipher Cato's message.
Across the rock is written:
Second tower, tenth floor
Late
Be there
-C
So he did want to see you again! Your heart flutters at the idea of being with him again. The rock in front of you is solid evidence of an illicit relationship forming between Tributes aligned to be mortal enemies. You use it as tinder to practice for fire-sparking, the friction and soot smoothing out and blackening the message it had once borne.
You silently thank your father for passing on his incredible memory as that brief message is now burned into your corneal layer, and now you can't wait for the lateness to come.