When love is not madness, it is not love.
- Pedro Calderon de la Barca
Recap / After becoming rather disoriented in her training and vomiting regularly, Cato suspected Clove may be pregnant. Too fearful to actually check, Clove provoked Felix into attacking her so she could induce a miscarriage. Instead, he went for her throat, causing some pretty gnarly bruises. When Nero told Felix he was done being his friend, Felix prompted Clove to get as close to killing him as possible. He ended up severely wounded as a result. When Cato dropped the bomb Clove could be pregnant, Felix didn't take the news well and dissolved their pact. In its wake, Clove did everything she could, even taking a pregnancy test that turned up negative. Inevitably, the two worked it out, but not before Felix said his piece.
Hunger Games Year 73 — January
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Aniston inquired as she entered their empty classroom, sitting on top of her desk, positioned caddy-corner to his. Felix was buried deep in his textbook.
"You and Nero need to stop using pointless prefaces if they're not going stop you either way," Felix remarked, pointedly, looking up the dainty girl distracting him from his work, but then added, "What?" for good effect.
Aniston seemed to really look him over, "It's just strange to imagine that you could have really killed me this entire time."
"You say that like it would be hard," Felix derided, raising his eyebrows. "Pretty sure Nero's baby cousin could take you out and she's eleven. Pretty sure any typical in the room could, really. Is that your question?"
"But you of all people a murderer, that's what's hard to imagine."
"Why?" Felix retorted. "Nero's one too, and he's a hell of lot more clean cut day to day than I am. Matter of fact, I'd pay the little money I have for you to call him that to his face, seeing as how it's a horribly disrespectful slur."
"Oh," Aniston said, grimacing. "Sorry?"
"Whatever. I know what I am, even if others would rather sanitize their actions," Felix said, with a shrug. "Everyone has to live with their choices." He looked her up and down, adding, "You get to live with the fact that that dress alone has probably blinded more people in five minutes than I could in a solid hour. Anything can be a weapon if you will it."
"Speaking of sanitizing, do your injuries still hurt?" She asked, pointing to the numerous bandages he was covered in. "I have a pain reliever that might help."
Aniston looked as if she had more to say, but clamped her mouth shut.
"I'll live," Felix said, leaning back into his Auditing textbook. He lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "Why are you here anyways? Shouldn't you two be frolicking in the woods?"
"I'm tired of Nero-"
"And I'm the best replacement?" Felix complained. "Spare me, Angel. I have enough problems."
Aniston glared at him and elaborated, "I'm tired of Nero using me as a shield to avoid talking to you."
"Don't give me that look. I could still murder you," he remarked at her petulant glare with rather hazy contempt.
"Go ahead. I don't want to sit in this class today anyway, and besides, I thought you said that word was slur."
"We'll see who's joking when you watch me send a half dozen kids to their graves this summer," Felix chastised, sternly. "And it is a slur. Seriously, for the sake of your shitty relationship, don't use that word with Nero. His father passed in the games and the last thing he needs to hear is you implying that his father was a bad person for all his efforts to bring our district glory."
Aniston looked at him, softly. "You really care about him. I wish he'd just talk to you."
"It's not like it matters at this point anyway."
"Doesn't it?" she asked. "Are you really going throw Nero away over this little fight?"
"I'm respecting his wishes. You should try it and leave me alone," Felix snapped. "I just want to look over my homework in peace. Novel concept to you, I'm sure."
He looked away from her and towards his bag on the ground. The sharpness in his this motion resulted in his glasses falling to the floor. Aniston quickly retrieved them, gently handing them back to him, and asked, "How are you going to take out the other tributes if you can't even see them without your glasses? Seems self-defeating."
Felix instinctively tucked the thick black-framed glasses back behind his ears, remarking with great exhaustion, "They're reading glasses, but even if they were regular eyeglasses, a viable tribute knows they can't rely on medical aids in the arena. You'd make yourself a sitting duck. Real easy way to get picked off. You know, for someone who'd take the time."
"Yeah, you think so? You'll have to tell me more about it when you get back, then."
"Absolutely not," Felix countered, immediately. "If I win one of my rewards will be that I never have to talk to you again, and honestly, I'm counting the days."
He groaned at the smile she gave him in response.
Hunger Games Year 73 — February
It took him two weeks to collect his thoughts. They were only a few days into February and cold mornings remained. As Nero entered the boy's locker room, he peeled off his onyx pea coat, throwing it into a locker.
He found Felix sitting on the floor, leaning against a wall adjacent from the lockers. With only a gray muscle tank covering his skin, Nero was able to make out a number of misplaced, haphazardly-adhered bandages. Felix's eyes were closed, and more apparently, his mind closed off from his surroundings, almost as if asleep.
There was an air of fatigue Nero hoped would stave off any wry commentary.
"You wanted to talk," he said.
"That was over a month ago," Felix replied, not opening his eyes. His tone all but said 'does this have to be right now?' and Nero couldn't contain his concern over the exhaustion permeating every cell of his skin. It was quite unsettling to see Felix so lifeless.
Nero placed his bag on the bench, frowning. "Who has been setting your bandages for you?"
"My momma has," he said, laughing in a hollow tone.
"So, you've been putting them on yourself," Nero accused. "Great. Well, you shouldn't still be bleeding. It's been a month since your sociopathic 'kill me, Clove' stunt, Felix. You really should go to Medical to be evaluated. Hell, you should have gone to Medical weeks ago to get your bandaging done, because you've done a real shit job."
"It's the anemia," Felix replied.
"What?"
"That's why I'm still bleeding — the anemia."
"Since when do you have anemia?"
"It's not contagious."
"I know that, Felix! How long?" Nero demanded again.
Felix's chest rose and fell. He took a moment to respond, before uttering with little thought, "On and off since I was twelve."
"You're such a manipulative asshole," Nero snapped, shaking his head.
"I'll make sure to tell my iron levels to stop being a manipulative asshole, then. Think it'll work?"
Nero didn't find it as amusing, "Shut up."
"We're not friends, Nero, so what's it to you?"
"What's it to you, Nero, if I bleed to death because I'm too stubborn to get live-saving medical treatment?" Nero mocked, childishly. "Is that a question, or are you actively trying to anger me?"
"No," but Felix didn't specify to which.
Nero carefully pulled off one of Felix's bandages, unnerved by the mess underneath, and said, coolly, "I'm going to replace your bandages so you don't die of some nasty infection. And if you think you have a choice, I'd really consider your options, because I'm pretty sure I could take you down right now."
Felix finally opened his eyes, deigning to look at Nero, "Sure."
Nero didn't bother to look back at him, though, only rummaging through his locker for disinfectant and gingerly applying it to the first of Felix's wounds. "Absolutely ridiculous," Nero muttered to himself, aggravated. Though Nero tried to be as gentle in his work as possible, he hardly felt an ounce of sympathy for any grimace here or there that slipped from Felix's facade.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes as Nero put him back together, before Nero finally said, "Clove told me you said you'd always choose me over her." Nero stopped for a second, and then said, "I don't know why that was so upsetting to her. They were completely empty words."
Felix didn't seem to have any words for him now, so Nero continued. "When you're friends, one person shouldn't get to make all the important decisions. Otherwise, what's the point of calling it friendship? Why not just call me your personal aide?"
One wound was especially crusted over. Nero struggled to effectively clean it without further provoking more bleeding. Felix let out a gasp, grounding Nero from his ruminations.
"Sorry," Nero murmured.
"It's alright." Felix remarked, studying him with curiosity, "But, are you?"
"It always feels like a head game," Nero continued on. "Every day I wonder which Felix will I get, because if you were all bad all the time, it'd be easy. But it's not. I never know when I can trust you, and isn't that a bit fucked up after eight years?"
Felix still said nothing, drawing Nero's ire.
"I feel like I shouldn't have to spell it out for you, but people with anemia can't afford to lose blood. That's kind of the fucking point of the illness; You could have died from that stunt and then ten years of investment would have been squandered. All of that work for nothing — what a waste."
"I already am," Felix said.
"What?"
"All I hear most days is how I'm an investment, how I'm supposed to be the one to bring dignity back to Two, how I'm responsible for ending the plague on our honor. It's like no one sees that there's a person behind the endeavor. I'm doing the best I can right now, and I know you don't care about me anymore, but you're making this harder. So, if you're really interested in seeing me win, even if just for District Two's sake, either let me go or let this go, because I'm about to ruin this for everyone."
"Hey," Nero remarked softly, taken aback at the few tears that fell from Felix's face, "You're doing a great job. Well, for the most part." Nero gently rubbed an un-wounded part of Felix's arm.
"No, I'm doing a mediocre job, Nero," Felix replied, frustrated, and a even more tears escaped him. He rubbed those away as well. "It's not like this for Ellery— Ellery's not barely hanging on every session. She's developing muscle. Ellery's building stamina. I'm in the same place I was last February. So, I'm going to get on that platform and be massacred by some hunk of muscle from One. What difference does it make if I die now, or if I die in June? A year from now there is no Felix Grey. That's the bottom line."
Nero bit back, brusquely, "Don't every say that again!" Nero couldn't stop himself from trembling so he removed his hands, still holding a fresh bandage from Felix's abdomen.
"Why not? It's true."
"Opt out of candidacy, Felix," Nero said, quickly. "If it's too much, opt out, and get it over with."
"H said the same thing," Felix said, a thin smile on his face. "It hurt less coming from her mouth than yours, though."
"Anything's better than you going into a fight you're not prepared for. Anything is better than you coming back to me in a wooden box. It doesn't matter if it's now or in a few months. Do you know what would happen to me if you died? Have you thought about what it would do to all the people that care about you!"
And Nero didn't look at Felix, but he was sure they both were crying. It unsettled him.
"At least if I come back in a box in June they can say I tried, because, see, what you're suggesting is treason. You go ahead and say any of that to your uncle and if you come back to me with anything less than a broken leg, I'll go ahead and opt out. Well, then again, maybe it's better you don't talk to your uncle about me. I definitely won't make it til April's candidacy exam if he comes to avenge the death of Clove's aborted fetus."
"Fucking Clove. I cannot believe she did that to you. That's fucked up even for her."
"S'not worth being mad about, Nero. I'm the one who let her get to me, when really I should be used to it by now. She's been repeating the same bullshit about how poor my family is for years," Felix said, easily. "Should be old news by now. She's lucky she caught me on an off-day. Or, well, maybe she's unlucky. Guess it depends on how you look at it."
Nero pried a water canister from his bag and forced it into Felix's hands. "Drink," he ordered. When Felix didn't move, looking awfully puzzled, he repeated himself, and was much louder.
Felix ended up emptying half the canister, which was a lofty amount of water. When he had his fill, he looked up at Nero, and to Nero's great relief, he seemed to become more steady. "Thanks," he managed.
"You ready for me to get the last of the bandages?"
"Mm."
Nero cleaned the last of his wounds and primly put the bandage into place, making sure the adhesive tape was secure. "Now you look good as new," he said, lightly. And he did, to an extent. With fresh bandages and some water, he looked a lot less fatigued than when Nero had first found him.
"It's too bad I still feel like shit," Felix joked, tiredly. "If I manage to survive any of it, all of it, it'll only be because of the hundreds of times you put me back together. I'd be a goner without you, Nee."
"If you make one more comment implicating your death, I'm going to tell Aniston that you've had a change a heart and want to become great friends," Nero said, quite pointedly.
"That's hardly a threat. She's probably spoken to me more in the past month than you have. I don't know how you can stand it. It's overwhelming."
"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Lix," Nero teased, and laughed a little. "You two are so alike in certain ways that maybe it's better you're not friends."
"I think Quarry Girl would figure it's a hoax if you tell her I want to be her friend while not bothering to be my friend yourself."
"Subtle, Felix," Nero replied, still amused. "Just ask."
"Are we okay, then?"
Nero smirked, "We will be."
"But it's gonna cost me, won't it?"
"Oh yeah," Nero agreed, congenially. "You're going to go to Medical and get yourself a bed."
"What for?"
Nero cocked a brow, crossing his arms, and sternly castigated. "Do you want me to provide you an alphabetical list?"
Hunger Games Year 73 — April
"Clove!" Cato wrapped on the glass wall rather loudly.
She ignored him, so he took a gamble and entered the room to more effectively get her attention. "Clove! Uh-" he ducked an incoming knife that barely missed him.
The throwing knife embedded itself into the cheek of Wyatt Almoy's beaming face. Better it than him, Cato figured. "I have something to tell you."
She didn't say anything, only going back to the knives. Clove made several throws, all of them hitting their targets. Though, if he ever did see her miss a shot, something told him he wouldn't have lived long enough to tell anyone.
He scowled at her, impatient now. "I'd prefer if you'd look at me while I share my life-changing information, Clovey!"
Even with her back to him, he knew she was rolling her eyes. Some things didn't take much guesswork. It was a Classic Clove response to the inane. This wasn't such a circumstance, though. This was life-changing, as he'd said.
"What, Cato?" Clove mocked. "Get a girl pregnant? Punch her in the abdomen and go about your day. You really get wound too tight about problems with easy solutions."
"You know it's not that," he said.
"I know," she said smugly.
"Can you be serious for, I don't know, five seconds?" he huffed. Cato wondered what he'd done this week to draw her ire.
She turned to him with a smirk and caressed her one of her knives, "Depends on what you want, babe."
Cato rolled his eyes at her, crossing his arms, and shaking his head uncomfortably. "If that was your attempt at trying to seduce me, you'd probably be better off crawling back to Kyler."
Clove shot him a dirty look and returned to her knife-throwing. Cato sighed, scolding himself for provoking the tiny wreck. It's not like she thought of him that way. He recognized it was a tactic to drive him away like any other.
"Come on, Clove. Please."
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT, CATO? I'M BUSY RIGHT NOW."
"Stop being such a fucking bitch!" he roared back. "I've been trying to tell you that I could be going into the Games!"
He retrieved the knife from Wyatt Almoy's portrait and threw it towards one of the targets, "An arrangement was made so I'll begin training this year to be Two West's candidate for 74th! But, since you obviously don't care, I'll go find someone else who does!"
It hit dead center.
Clove stared at him, startled, and quietly asked, "What?"
He sneered at her. "And I don't know why I felt you were first one I should tell. I could've made it my mother, Dicey, my father — Maybe, because I expected my best friend to at least be happy for me, but-"
Cato's face flushed with fury as he continued rambling on.
Clove looked as if she was seeing him again for the first time, making him suddenly very self-conscious. She walked toward him, almost as if being led by a puppeteer, and stood on her tip toes. Closing her eyes, she brought his face down to her own, and pressed her lips to his.
Hunger Games Year 73 — June
"So tell us, how did your parents react when you volunteered to represent your district? I bet they were very proud," Caesar Flickerman asked, his green hair sleeked back. He winked at some women in the front row who screamed back in response.
"They..." Felix paused, struggling for the right words, "They passed away when I was eight."
"Oh, that's terrible misfortune."
The boy shook his head, grinning at the host. "I'm sure they'd be very proud of me. They loved District Two as much as I do. It's really the best place to be, and it's an absolute honor to be here representing my district. I'm really, really grateful for the opportunity."
"Many of the homes constructed in the Capitol couldn't be made without the precious stone from District Two, did you know..."
Clove scoffed at the television as Felix and Caesar continued their discussion on the commodities of Two. "What is Fix playing at with that?"
Cato shrugged. "He probably finally realized that he actually has to kill everyone else to win, and you know, he doesn't exactly have the most charming disposition."
She watched as Caesar and Felix spoke about his impression of the Capitol. "I don't know, he's not doing too badly with the audience. They're eating right out of the palm of that little bitch's hand."
The blond laughed. "Who are you betting on, then?"
"Mariana from District 4 is a hot little number, and with her score of 9, I bet she's got what it takes to take the bastard down."
"Is that the hand you're playing?" Cato asked, "Because, I wager she's the first ally to go."
Clove gaped, sticking her tongue at him, "In your dreams, Cato! She's got it down pat!"
They looked to Dicey, awaiting his input, but he continued to sit quietly with his knees up to his chest. Cato glanced at him, concerned, "Dice?"
"Felix's parents died in the quarry rock slide in 65," Dicey replied faintly, watching Felix's smiling figure on the television with great unease. "He's not lying, and now everyone knows."
Hunger Games Year 73 - June
Clove's eyes didn't leave the screen. She was absolutely transfixed on the girls in Felix's alliance. They were in hushed huddle, developing a plan to take Felix and his District One counterpart, Silk, out. The black-haired boy was sitting on a log, cleaning his war hammer and wiping sweat off his forehead. Even in darkness the savanna didn't cool.
He kept his composure, but Clove could see he was a bundle of nerves, and it made her uneasy.
The screen switched over to the surviving tribute from District Six. His partner had sacrificed herself for him to get away, and currently, the boy was near death, seeking water. The screen flashed again and a cannon sounded, the camera closed in on a shot of the youngest tribute, a twelve-year-old from District Three, who had died from something he'd eaten.
Clove fought to keep her eyes on the screen, but couldn't prevent them from drooping. She fell away from Nero's shoulder, where the two had been leaning on one another.
Clove was grateful Nero was sleeping at all. He'd been up for days watching the footage straight. Seeing Nero worried wasn't uncommon, but seeing him this worried threw up some alarm bells, and made her wonder what he knew that she didn't.
Cato picked Clove up bridal style. She didn't bother opening her eyes as he carried her into the next room over. Clove's bangs fell over her face and Cato had to resist the impulse to brush them away.
Cato placed her on the kitchen counter and she blinked several times, before yawning, "What's wrong?"
"I have a question and I want you to answer honestly. I feel I've been really patient about this."
She struggled to rub the sleep from her eyes. "Okay."
"How do you feel about me?"
The brunette stifled another yawn, "Depends on the day, really."
Cato looked up and tried to think of a way to rephrase his question. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.
Finally, he settled on, "When you kissed me, was it because you like me, Clove? Because you felt bad for your actions, or maybe, was it that you find me unbelievably hot?" He ground his hips against the counter, giving her a wink. Clove struggled in her sleepiness, not responding to his antics.
"Or was it because you wanted me to stop talking... like I am now," he said, suddenly embarrassed.
"Cato, I'm fucking tired. What is this."
"Clove, please. I need to know what happened between us."
His eyes must have played tricks on him, because he could have sworn he saw he saw her cheeks redden. The girl with no shame was biting on the nail of her thumb and giving him half-answers, "I don't know."
Cato looked at her with disbelief. She really was going to make him do this, "Well, I'll just have to help you remember, then." He leaned in, this time initiating the kiss. The blond was surprised that for a girl rough around all the edges, Clove had pleasantly soft lips.
When he withdrew from her, Cato's grin widened. She was definitely flushed and it had to have been one of the most endearing things he'd ever seen. He hoped he didn't look too thrilled by this development. Clove would never forgive such vulnerability.
She became defensive at his stare and challenged, "Well, how do you feel about me?"
The blond smirked now, "Depends on the day."
"Cato," she whined. "I'm tired and I'm missing Felix getting gutted to death. Can we do this later?"
"Hey, don't joke, Clove. He could really die and how would you feel then?" He asked, earnestly.
"Unsurprised that we lost. Again. This decade has been fucking terrible. Maybe the Capitol decided they didn't want to live through another Wyatt Almoy," she managed, through a full yawn.
He shook his head, giving up on that endeavor. "You'll have to earn my answer."
"What?" she demanded, flatly.
"For every answer I give you, I get a kiss. You know you want to play, because unlike in there-" he pointed towards the living room, "In this game, everybody wins."
"Says who?" she snorted.
"Oh, come on, Clove."
"Nope," she said, preparing to hop off the counter.
He pouted, "Why not?"
"Because I'm fucking tired, Cato. It's two in the morning and you're being ridiculous right now."
"Alright, alright," Cato surrendered. "I'm being a jerk."
"Yeah, you are."
"I'll stop," he said, shedding the arrogance.
"Alright, then, how do you feel about me?" Clove asked.
"That's easy. You're easily the cutest person I've ever seen. Nelle, aside, obviously but that's not quite fair because she goes out of her way to be that way."
Clove sighed, dejected, and pressed her lips to his left cheek halfheartedly. "So, what does that mean, then? I know you're not interested in my sister yet." She then added with a threatening glare, "Well, you better not be."
"Yet?" Cato asked, completely baffled. "Clove, I'm not interested in Nelle. She's like my own baby sister."
"But she won't always be."
"Only if she gets bored of me," Cato said, a bothersome expression affixed to his face at her response. "Besides, Nelle wants me with you, and I want me with you, so we're both on the same page about that."
"So, I'm cute? Cute like a small kitten, or what?"
"Cute like a kitten? Definitely," He teased.
"Cato."
"I wouldn't be playing a game like this with Nelle," and then for an afterthought added, "or any other girl. It's not just cuteness, Clove, as ridiculous as that sounds."
That brought a lopsided smile to Clove's face and kissing him didn't seem like as much of a chore this time around, though she made a note to work on eliminating the word 'cute' from his vocabulary.
"Oh, is that all?" she asked.
He smirked, "You were never one for low self-esteem, but if you want to keep the game going..."
Clove crossed her arms, giving him a light glare.
"Your determination. It's unbreakable. I don't think I've ever seen you give up on anything in your whole life." He swallowed, his eyes bright, "Not even me. So, like I said, it's more than just cuteness. It's everything."
Her expression became softer, and she gently pressed her lips to his forehead. Cato buried his face into her shoulder. She ran her hand through the roots of his hair, "We can stop-"
Cato pulled out of the safety of her embrace immediately and gave her a smirk, "The games not over until I say it is, Cutes."
"So why do I have to be 'cute', but you get to be 'sexy'?" she blurted out, affronted.
His smirk grew even wider and he beamed, quite flattered, "Oh, I'm sexy?"
"I—" she groaned at her lack of restraint.
He kissed her lightly on the lips, interrupting the impending ramblings, "Anyone can be sexy, Clove. There are a number of girls in my cohort that any guy could only hope to sleep with, but it doesn't matter. I don't want them, specifically because they're not you."
She looked at him desperately, "Please tell me this isn't some sort of trick." Her concern was quickly masked and replaced by suspicion, "I swear I will castrate you without hesitation, Cato."
"Oh, I know," he laughed. "Relax, Clove. I'm not always out to get you. Only about 87% of the time."
"You're hoping I find you funny enough to let you off the hook for calling me unsexy."
He bat his big, blue eyes, and asked her, huskily, "Is it working yet?"
"Only because I'm District Two's biggest sucker."
Cato waggled his eyebrows suggestively at that, running his tongue over the top row of his teeth. She pushed him off of her with a laugh, "I hate you, you know."
He kissed her forehead, smiling, and brought their foreheads together. "I hate you too."
And Clove swore she could hear the flutter of his heart.
Author's Note (2017) - The content of chapter 20 was added to this chapter to add some scenes into the meat of year 72/73. I cut a scene in which Halle failed her kill test, so know as of year 73 she is no longer a student at the Annex. Also, if it helps, Wyatt Almoy is played by Max Thieriot.
Written: July 6th, 2012
Edited: April 2nd, 2017; May 16th, 2017