A/N: Hello, everyone! I know, I know, I was dead for two weeks. Sorry about that. I had too much on my head and I struggled with my classes at uni. It's only going to get worse, because the exam session is just around the corner, but I try not to think about it. Much. The good news is, I'll probably be dead by then. Nothing to worry about...

Anyway. The long-awaited chapter. I hope it won't be disappointing, since there is more Seneca Crane than Katniss in it. But you get wonderfully confused Cato and I bet this chapter will make the story even more interesting than it already was. So, please, R&R! :)

Chapter 11

Cato doesn't know how much time he has spend on the balcony, looking at the evening lights of Capitol, but it feels like eternity. It could have easily been an hour or so, but he's not sure. He wonders if anyone's looking for him. Not likely, though. Everyone must probably think he ditched the party, too bored to stick around, or that he's too stupid to understand the importance of attending the event. Cato has a strange felling that even possessive Glimmer couldn't care less. And if someone noticed his absence, they must whisper about 'that obnoxious tribute who thinks himself superior of everyone else, because how could he throw away this chance of impressing President Snow'? Somehow, the thought makes Cato glad. He prefers not being missed than being chased after.

"You're not really doing a good job of marketing yourself in public right now, Cato."

He turns his head and notices a man with a trimmed beard. He looks familiar and Cato vaguely remembers seeing him earlier, talking to Clove, but the man's name eludes him.

"I'm more than aware what I'm doing, sir," Cato replies, carefully choosing his words. "And everything I do gets me closer to winning."

"You've managed to fool most people, then," the man gives him the look, as if implying something.

"But apparently not you, sir."

The man smiles. "Stop with the 'sir' already, Cato. Call me Seneca Crane."

Seneca Crane. The name speaks volumes. Now, Cato remembers all the rumors that circled around District 2 about that man. The most ruthless Gamemaker of them all. But Seneca comes across rather as aloof and a bit distanced, but not a cruel man. Still, that means Cato shouldn't be talking to him at all, and yet he's getting more curious by the minute as to why Crane approached him in the first place.

"Well then, Mr Crane. What do I owe the pleasure?" Cato knows there's no point in pretending, they might as well skip the pleasantries. "Are you here to advise me on the best way to win the Games?"

"You love that word, don't you? Winning. It's your synonymy to living, the code you live by" Seneca looks at him intently. "To have such principles is a very… admirable thing. Not hiding them is another."

"I prefer to have my motives out in the open," he explains, eager to see where this conversation is going. "There's not point in hiding them anyway. Not when everyone will discover them sooner or later, and certainly not when the Capitol, as we are both aware, is watching our every move."

"Do you think they can hear us talk, Cato? Do you think they're watching us right now?"

"I'm sure they are. Are you?"

"What? Watching or being watched?" Seneca pauses, as if deliberating on the choice of words. "Sometimes it's both, sometimes it's none. I'm not the only one with privileges in this city."

Cato doesn't like this. He's no match for a man who avoids giving answers so skillfully. He feels the uneasiness creep in.

"You're a very cryptical man, Mr Crane. But on the other hand, I wouldn't be surprised if President Snow was watching a live feed of our conversation on a big, shiny screen in his bedroom right now," Cato shrugs, trying to clear the atmosphere a bit.

"Indeed," Seneca chuckles. "You should know however that everything the President sees comes through me first," and suddenly, his voice is a bit more dangerous. Cato tenses, expecting the worst. "But don't worry. For now I have no interest in your private life, Cato."

"I don't have one, everybody can tell you that," he tries to say half-jokingly, but his trembling voice gives him away.

"I disagree."

So this is it. Brutus was right. There's always someone watching, and Cato's in deep shit right now. He wants to ask Seneca if it's true, if there are tapes, anything that would prove his utter stupidity and probably get him killed, but he's frozen. For the first time since his childhood, Cato panics.

Seneca is now standing directly in front of him, whispering. "To answer your unspoken question, yes. I have you and Everdeen on tape. I have all the recordings of your conversations. The only thing I don't have are the detailed data about your reactions, including pupil dilation, pulse, blood pressure, breathing rate, everything. But we'll get that once a tracker for the Games is inserted into your arm. Until then," he pauses, " you can see whoever you want, talk to whomever you please. You don't have to worry that someone is watching your every move."

That is certainly unexpected, but, paradoxically, makes his life so much more complicated.

"I don't understand," Cato manages to say after a while. "Why? Why are you telling me this?"

"I have my reasons."

"Then give me at least one," Cato demands.

Sececa sighs and runs fingers through his dark hair. "Me and your uncle go way back, but he didn't say anything about your difficult attitude."

"You know my uncle?" Cato asks in pure disbelief. "What?"

"I never forget my old friends."

"H-how long have you known him? And why the fuck he didn't tell me anything?" Cato shakes off the initial shock, trying to get all the information he can. That is why he hates surprises – they always turn out to be fucking ugly.

"Why, how, when, none of this matters. I don't expect you to trust me," Seneca gives him the look again, "but I'm not doing this to hurt you. I promised your uncle I won't let anything happen to you. And I intend to keep that promise."

"I don't want your protection," Cato snarls back, anger seeping through his words. He feels betrayed. His uncle was one of the two people he trusted completely with his life. And he doesn't need his mercy or honoring the deal he struck with the devil. Having a friend in the Capitol? What the hell is going on? "I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that, but you need to listen," Seneca doesn't hesitate when he puts his hand on Cato's shoulder. "If anyone sees you and Everdeen, you know what will happen."

Cato knows exactly what will happen. He will be lucky if he dies.

"I already had to find out how much Enobaria knows. She's far more observant that she looks, but luckily, she had a soft spot for you," this, in turn, makes Cato shiver. So his instincts were right – Enobaria already knew. "Yes, exactly. You have to be careful. I trust your judgment, Cato, but you must realize that dismissing it will have its consequences."

"Capitol can't touch me. You want to threaten me, go ahead. There is no one out there who loves me, and there isn't a person on this planet whose death would hurt me."

"In other words, you have nothing to loose and everything to win."

"Yes," but Cato knows the answer isn't that simple. Not in context of recent events and Everdeen. "And when it comes to winning, caring is not an advantage."

"Your uncle used to say that," Seneca smiles at the memory. "And you're not wrong to listen to his advice. But sometimes, having someone you trust, someone who cares for you, can prove more powerful than any weapon."

Cato snorts. "You're the one to say. You play with people's minds every day, and I definitely do not trust you, even if you claim to know my uncle. I would sooner believe that you're just playing with me as well, just waiting to show the tapes at the right moment, when it's convenient for you or for President Snow. In fact, I bet you're recording this conversation as well."

"On the contrary. This conversation, from technical point of view, never existed. Just as the tapes with you and Miss Everdeen. Of course, there is no way I can show you that they have disappeared from the face of the Earth, just as I cannot convince you to trust me. But at some point, you'll have to trust someone, Cato."

"Highly unlikely."

"You're stubborn. I can see why your uncle liked you so much," and with that, Seneca turns to leave. "Oh, and Cato?"

"Yes?"

"Next time you see Miss Everdeen, please be more careful. I cannot kill every guard who sees you two together. That would be so… unethical. Until we meet again," and with that, he disappears, leaving Cato alone.

He takes a deep breath. The whole situation is just fucked up. His uncle knowing that man. Seneca Crane protecting him from the inside. Enobaria having a soft spot for him and not going with her knowledge to Brutus. Him, being in the middle of this madness. And all Cato wanted to do was to come here and win, simple as that. He didn't want to be involved in the game of shadows, conversations that never took place, silent deals discussed in the middle of the night.

Cato sighs. Maybe he is just being paranoid. Maybe Seneca really wants to help him. After all, by talking to him, he put himself in danger. From a third party's view, this all looked highly suspicious. Cato bites his lip. It was all Everdeen's fault. If only she hadn't volunteered. If only he hadn't been so utterly stupid and suicidal. If only he hadn't started to care.

Yeah, if only. Cato knows he can't shift the blame on her. He is the one who loves danger more than his own life. He's the one who decided that 'caring is not an advantage' is an utterly useless advice. He fully realizes that he crossed the line. He broke too many rules, the rules he made himself. He cares for Everdeen more than he would like to admit. He knows that now. He knows, because even with the knowledge that there's always someone watching, that the cameras are following his every move, that the microphones are spying on him, Cato wants to see Everdeen again.

He's ready to take that risk.