A/N: Please read the full author's note!
Okay. To those who hate Cato (like all my friends), I am now officially not turning back on my being Team Cato. Before I was flexible between him and Peeta, but now… after reading a few more Catno fics, I am dead-set. So after the Diamond Flame series (Yes, I said SERIES!) is over, I will not start a Johanna Mason fic as I had planned (she's awesome!), but a Katniss and Cato fic.
Still more in love with the idea of Marvissa than Catno, though.
Now. TDF Series talk. Yes, if you guys don't randomly stop reading The Diamond Flame on me (please don't!), I will have one—maybe more!—"books" in this series. The next will be titled something along the lines of My Shadow or Forever Apart or Diamond's Doom or Flame's Shine. I will not be up for title voting or suggestion yet, as we have barely gotten to the fact that Marvel has found Marissa, since it was only briefly mentioned in the last chapter!
This story, being the first and it being the Games and the building of the main character's relationship (and fall possibly; you don't know it they'll both win!), this one will be rather long. And I mean 25—50 chapters long. I go big on my stories, people!
I am excited to announce that the first hint of Marvissa will be in this chapter. And to all Glato fans, I am sorry to say, Clato will be replacing you soon. But Thresh is also soon to be here to make up for it!
Now. Onto the longer-than-usual-but-pretty-long-chapter chapter for you to read and our favorite animal-related main-character/not-so main-character is back for more spotlight! No, not Rue! She's dead. (No exclamation point there…)
Marissa, people! R&R!
Title: Moonlight Killer, Career Forever
POV: Marissa Markison
Day 6, so I can skip to the good parts… Morning; around 7AM
It's chilly, and I've lost everything I've found. Well, stolen, actually. And my district partner has died. And I'm cold. And I'm hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Oh yes, and let's just add that it's raining in with that, too! And I woke up in a small clearing when it started raining. So I'm soaked. And I'm cold, did I mention?
As I was when I ran into the tree, I am not paying attention, especially not when a stick snaps. But then another and another does and I run running like crazy. My red hair flies behind me as I go further, mainly thinking, And I'm cold. And now I will die. And I'm cold.
"Marissa?" asks a voice I know; the only voice in here I can almost trust. I know by the pleading in his voice that he ever-so wants it to be me, and won't kill me. Not again will he kill me—literally or like he did when he rejoined the Career Pack. "Is it you?"
"If it weren't, would I have stopped running? Would I have red hair?" I say to him as he runs out to me.
"You could've been a real fox…Foxface," he says, smiling. "I left them."
"I see that," I snap, remembering how angry I was with him and how I promised never to let him fool and charm his way into my friendship again. "Now. Go. I'm done. I don't want you here."
"Please," he breathes, coming closer. Great. He's already begging, like we've been allies for days now, and he just now betrayed everything within me and us. Whatever "us" there is, anyway. "Please, Marissa." His tone's dramatically changed. It's all for the Capitol now; I can tell. So I get closer to him than he expected, look him in the eyes, and slap him in the face.
He stumbles back, and I turn around, taking his knife that he dropped and his pack that fell off.
I can't look back, but someone within me, someone not names Marissa Markison, for sure, tells me to. And they are stronger. They aren't hungry, thirsty, tired, wet, and being rained on. And they're not cold. But I am. I'm all of those things. And yes, I'm cold. So she—whoever she is—takes over, and I—the real me—don't like it.
So I look back.
The look in his black eyes makes everything turn to stone. His blond hair. His long arms and legs. His strong—but not like Cato's—muscles. It all's gray. It's not like Marvel to be gray. He is red, like me. He is red like flames. He is red and so am I. So why am I not over there?
No! I'm not supposed to be thinking like that! I tell myself firmly. So I turn back around. But it's too late. He saw me turn back. It's too late. I saw his eyes. So I throw his stupid stuff down, turn around, and snap, "You get fifteen seconds to hug me because I'm staying."
He smirks. "Five," he demands. "I only need five seconds."
"Stop being dramatic," I order. "And I don't care that you're a Career. I'm in charge."
"Says the girl dripping wet with obviously starved eyes and no supplies," Marvel mocks loudly in a muttering tone.
"Your five seconds are up, Marvel," I tell him, and he mock-cries. "No. No crying. You're a Career, after all. Where's your spears?"
"Cato's shoulder." He looks proud, but I bet he's just lying. Like usual. "What next, Commander Face?"
"First. Commander Face?" I ask.
He smiles. Well, his smile widens in pride, like he just won a competition. Other than the Games. "Fox… and then face. Commander Face! Like for me, it'd be Commander Gratte!"
"If anything, call me Commander Markison," I tell him. "Wait, no! Don't call me 'Commander' anything!"
"Okay, General Fox," he says with a sly grin. I roll my eyes. It is surprising how he can go from so hurt to so happy. Next I expect him to jump up and down and do the happy dance. But what would that take, if I allying with him made him just smile and joke? A kiss, probably. A proclamation of more feelings than allies or friends, which is probably what the Capitol wants. So maybe I will. Maybe I will kiss him for the heck of it, so the Capitol is happy. Maybe they'll take it easy on us, let us live longer before we decide who wins.
I still say me.
"What do you say we…just stay here? It's not raining so badly," he whispers in my ear, and I don't know how he got so close. I shove him away. I hate how he's acting so richly for the Capitol all the sudden! I mean, if I didn't know him more, I'd compare him to a mix of Cato and Finnick Odair! "What do you say?"
"I say… I say I'm about to leave! We are allies, not even friends, Marvel. No more, maybe less," I snap at him.
"Okay, okay. I get it." He is still smirking, and I consider slapping the smirk off his face again, and almost do. Because this time, I won't feel bad. This time it'll be his fault. The thing that keeps me from doing so is him saying he'll hunt first. And not all-that-like. Like Marvel. Like the Marvel I know.
Oh, great. There she is again. That stupid idiot who made me look back. "Like the Marvel I love," she insists, and it's so real, it's almost as if it actually is more than my mind playing tricks on me because the Games have made me a bit off.
"Like the Marvel I know is all," I insist aloud, since Marvel is gone. I sit next to a tree and lean on it. A mockingjay lands above me and sings four, soothing little notes.
I drift off again, after curling into a ball.
He's gone. He… I don't know what happened to him. But he's gone. Has been for days. There's a cannon, the first in a while.
"Marvel!" I shriek. "Marvel, come back…please, Marvel!"
He comes running through the trees. Cato does, too, and Clove. They attack him with a fury, not seeing me, and Marvel mouths, "Don't move," and all of the sudden I can't. They murder him brutally, and then he is almost dead. They leave and I approach him. Before he dies, he kisses me.
I wake up, panting, and he's right beside me. No, not beside me. I'm in his arms. He holds me tightly, like I might evaporate forever if I'm not in his arms. He's almost shaking. I think that he maybe is.
"Why are you shaking?" I ask, still panting from the dream a bit.
"You were sweating and panting and crying and were hunched over when I came back earlier tonight," he explains. "I thought someone killed you."
This isn't for the Capitol. I know the difference between his voice and the voice he used earlier and in the interviews. I know the expressions he uses. For once in my entire time of knowing him, I actually believe he may love me.
"I thought—I thought you were dead. I had to hold you. I was scared that…that I didn't, they would kill you," he tells me with incorrect grammar…technically. "I had to hold you."
"Did you catch anything?" I question him.
"No. I heard you crying and abandoned trying," he explains. Great, now I feel like a burden.
But he cares?
He buries his face in my hair. "Marissa, please. Don't. Don't go. I can't do this without you."
And he's not joking. Because he isn't a good actor, and I know it.
Now is the time to determine my every fate with Marvel Gratte. Saying "I won't" means I am falling for him. Saying "I can't promise you" would mean we aren't anything, and never will be. Saying "Why would I; I have no other way to get food" would mean we are friends and never anything more. But I have never been good with this, and I never could care less if I was. So deciding what to say isn't easy. Do I really want this boy before me?
"I won't go."
But he is asleep, and all the courage it took me to say that is gone. I have no desire to work up so much and say it again. It was too hard the first time. So I curl back in his lap, content, and go back to sleep.
When I wake up, it's morning. Marvel is awake, but I'm still in his arms. His chin is resting on my shoulder and his breath is in my neck. "Up?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah," he says.
"Good."
He stands up, stretches, and smiles at me. I roll my eyes. We get our stuff and head out. We walk a long time, without saying one word, and then he says, being a Career, and always at heart will be, "Come on, Marissa, feel the wind and Games in your face." He smiles and starts to run without thinking. He takes my hand and pulls me along. I start to laugh a bit, and then he spins me into his arms. Then his face is inches—maybe centimeters—from my face. His breath is warm on my cheek, like it was on my neck earlier. Then his head lifts, and he, of all things he could do, kisses me.
Against my lips, he whispers, "I love you." But it's too late. I'm already, instinctively, pushing him off of me.
I start to run, but he pulls me back lightly. "Please."
I stay back. We walk again, this time distanced. "I won't," I state eventually, and I don't care if he doesn't know what I mean. It's true.
Then we hear someone. Ahead is a little girl, and the lights in the arena dim dramatically, making it look to anyone who slept in late, like night has already dawned. Marvel and I stand there, stiffly, and then I notice him drawing his knife.
"Katniss!" calls the girl.
"I'm coming, Rue!" calls back another, older girl.
I whisper in Marvel's ear, "Come on. I want to talk to you about…us." It's a lie, but I don't want to kill her. This girl. Marvel shakes his head. I'm supposed to be in charge! He said I would be! Somehow, the fact that he broke this rubs me the wrong way. "No, Marvel, don't. Katniss is coming. Let's just go!"
Marvel throws the knife, and Katniss runs in the trees. Katniss throws her knife and misses. Marvel picks it up and we run before she can show off how the fuck her eleven appeared on the screen the night of Training Centers.
We run quickly, just in case, but it seems Katniss isn't following us. Still, we keep running. When we finally stop, the cannon booms. I hear the four-note whistle from a mockingjay nearby again.
Marvel killed the little girl.
Well, he is a moonlight killer.
And I guess a Career forever, too.
Might be a problem.
A/N: Love it? Hate it? Review and let me knowwwww!