Survival of the Fittest
So here we are again!
This chapter was actually surprisingly difficult to write.
Both Sky and Peeta are emotional people, and both of them like to verbalise how their feeling, whereas Cato gets a little uncomfortable with too much of that. Normally he'd be able to convey his standpoint to Sky through touch, the two of them talking their own language, but with Peeta...Peeta is unsure as to what he should do, how much should he do...he has no idea what his boundaries are, and Cato in return doesn't want to push him in a direction he's uncomfortable with. So they're figuring out their way, and that's why they feel a little awkward right now.
Rosa is a new character introduced in this chapter...she will be important later...
I hope you all enjoy this.
I'm really excited where this story is heading.
ENJOY!
Chapter 21
The week flashes by in a whirlwind of events, appearances and parties, always on the arm of a Capitol dignitary, although none as important as that first night.
I circulate among the wealthy of the Capitol citizens, and I keep my ears open to any information, my eyes peeled for any observations, that might help me with this next, and terribly dangerous, stage in my life.
The rest of the time my concern for Finnick ramps up.
He tries to focus on me rather than himself, I can see it, and the fact that he's putting such an effort into what is usually such an effortless thing for him, makes the worry grow even more.
By the end of the week his face is almost ashen pale, and only Capitol makeup manages to give him a semblance of life at all. The strain of keeping up his persona, of not giving President Snow any excuse to harm the ones he loves, while slowly crumbling inside, lights a fury in me that burns like ice.
And I marvel at his strength, having done this for almost ten years, his formative years spent surviving this abuse. He hides his revulsion, his hatred, his anger, and presents the world with 'Finnick Odair', while inside Finnickin the child...forced to murder and then share a bed with anyone who paid for it...cries.
So I do everything I can to ease his pain, waiting up for him every night with a warm cocoa, blankets and a comfortable place in my arms.
He doesn't say anything, but the way he slumps against me, head pillowed over my heartbeat, as his hair, wet from his scorchingly hot shower, tickles under my chin, tells me more than words ever could.
I can feel his gratitude in my bones.
And in a way it feels good to help him, to be able to ease the burdens of this man who for so long now has been keeping me safe, who has been guiding me, selflessly pouring himself into keeping me alive and sane.
We are equals now, although I bless myself every day for my luck not being forced into prostitution like Finnick, and for being able to save Peeta and Cato from the same fate.
My dates are a wild assortment of men and women, all warped in some way by expensive alterations. None of them push the sexual side of the agreement which is a relief. But none of them really stand out to me as Arturus did.
Until the final night.
"Schuyler Cavendish." I turn to face the voice, "Ah, you are indeed a pearl beyond price. Thank you for accompanying me."
The woman before me is tall, and incredibly elegant. She is incredibly restrained by Capitol standards, with flawless deep ebony skin, wild sable curls and braids, and a mouth made for smiling. Her eyes are intelligent, and unadorned by any enhancements. In fact the only indications of her adherence to Capitol fashion are the silken ropes and strands of golden jewels laced through the intricate braiding of her hair, as well as the piercings adorning her ears and eyebrows, with the same bright yellow stones. Her gown is a rich gold, with bold cutouts that emphasise her femininity while also exuding an aura of wealth and power.
"Rosa Osun." I incline my head, feeling intimidated and awed by her stature and her beauty, "It is an honour."
Her lips curve up slowly, "I almost believe you, little dove." her hand waves at the door to the gallery, "But I think you would far rather be running free down a beach in your District 4 than smiling as your time is bought with coin."
I look at her in surprise and see a glint of amusement in those lovely, dark eyes, "It is why I asked for you in particular, little dove. Your Games showed me something fascinating, something completely foreign to me. It is your eyes that I wish to share this art with."
For a moment I feel a little shocked, thrown off by the open honesty and wondering for a moment if this is a trap. But I simply smile and lay my hand on her arm as she leads me into the tall white gallery. The place is an interconnected series of rooms, some large and vaulted, others small and close.
As we walk through the exhibition I start to realise that the art isn't simply art.
The first room is resplendent, swathed in silks and encrusted in gemstones, at first you're dazzled by the beauty of it, but here and there you find little touches that make you pause. A smear of something like blood across a golden topaz, tear stained lace. And there are sculptures, of people, made of burnished gold, lifting a child to the sky. The child is reaching towards the chandelier, and there are white satin wings on its back. The image is hopeful, the sculpture people seem happy, but there is something in their poses, something I can't quite put my finger on.
"Do you like them?" Rosa asks me softly, and I nod.
The extreme opulence is overwhelming and almost nauseating but the figures are what continue to draw my eyes. There is a deeper meaning...I'm certain.
The second room is sparse in comparison to the first, almost brutal in its cold clean lines. It's lined floor to ceiling and wall to wall in smooth grey marble, and our footsteps echo slightly as we walk through the vaulted space. The voices of the visitors are hushed and the occasional loud laugh is quickly silenced.
Down the room I notice blocks of pure white standing out from the grey on one side of the wall, while on the other side there are blocks of red marble and black, scattered from floor to ceiling.
There are fewer black marbles than red, and far fewer red than white, and I wonder at it as I step over a cracked marble slab in the doorway and step into the next room.
It's not until I step into the fourth room and see the sand covered floor that I realise.
These are the Districts.
The District 4 room, as it could only be, is swathed in thick fishing nets, and it's a battle to push through to the other side. Throughout you find various sea life in states of entrapment or death and I feel my breath shorten.
Every room shows off the artistic side of the District, but it also captures something tragic and brutal. It's not overt, but there is a great deal of sympathy in it.
District 12's room is the last and here the light is so dim it's almost non existent. Something like ash floats through the air, obscuring it even more. Our footsteps are hushed as we walk through small mountains of coal and dust, scattered everywhere are stones like diamonds, but they are cracked and soot blackened, smeared and damaged. It makes me suck in a breath as above my head something bright and fiery flashes past before disappearing with a keening call.
When we reach the exit we are greeted with a huge hall and crowds of Capitol art critics who are sipping drinks and eating tiny and elaborate bites of food as they chatter about the installation.
It's jarring against my nerves, and I suck in a sharp breath as I blink against the well lit room.
"Well?" My companion asks softly and I turn to face her, "What did you think?"
"It was beautiful." I admit, licking my lips, "And dangerous."
Rosa smiles, and it's sharp and dangerous all in itself, but her dark eyes are sparkling.
"True art means pushing the boundaries no?" she smirks faintly, "Do you wish to meet the artist?"
"Yes." I swallow, "But I think I've already met her."
That provokes an honest, throaty laugh, and she throws her head back as she does, delight rippling in the tones.
"Oh you are as intelligent as I thought, little dove." she smiles brightly, "What gave me away?"
"You seemed to want my opinion...on a personal level." I shrug shyly, "You seemed...invested."
"Ah yes, it is hard to disconnect from your creations," Rosa's smile is rueful, "Hard to look at it through a stranger's eyes."
"It was beautiful," I murmur, smiling faintly as I accept a drink from a server, "Truly, I mean that."
Rosa smiles, and the keen intelligence there makes me shiver even as I keep meeting her gaze, "You are a fascinating creature Schuyler Cavendish. I don't think there is a Victor quite like you."
"You flatter me," I step away slightly, feeling a little overwhelmed, "I am simply a girl from District 4."
"How could anyone mistake you for a simple anything?" Rosa's hand catches mine, "But I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, anymore than my art already did."
"It didn't-"
"Please don't lie," Rosa's voice is soft but cutting and my words dry up, "I hear so many pretty lies every day. I couldn't bear it if you lied too. Tell me little dove...what did you truly feel?"
I stare at her in silence and realise she's guided me to a private little nook, "Honestly?"
"Yes."
"It frightened me," I answer truthfully and see her lips curve up, "The different coloured stones of District 2...the broken diamonds of District 12, smothered in coal ash. It was like having a mirror shone on your darkest secrets."
"Ah but they are not your secrets, no?" Rosa sighs, "I will speak plainly, since we are safe here, and you did me the courtesy of doing the same. I am the lead advocate for the District Freedoms Group. You will not have heard of us, President Snow likes to keep most of our activities away from the knowledge of the Districts themselves. It suits him to keep you in the dark, to think yourselves isolated, that the Capitol has no sympathy for your plight. It's near impossible for regular Capitol citizens to get close to any of you Victors, the costs are….extreme. And there is no point in reaching out, of pouring so many resources in, if our support will not be heard or used, or worse, used against us."
"But, you paid for me?" I ask, head reeling as I process her words, "Why?"
"It was too good a chance to pass up." Rosa smiles faintly, "There has never been a Hunger Games like yours, everyone is stirred up, people are questioning the ethics of the Games and that is because of Katniss Everdeen...and you."
"I did nothing…"
"In this instance it doesn't matter what you think, little dove." Rosa leans in, her fingers tucking a curl behind my ear, "Only what you are, what you have become. You are a symbol...and here in the Capitol...for the first time there is unease. We have had more inquiries since the end of your Games than we ever have before."
"Then I will not live for long," I point out quietly.
"The President does not know it centres on you." Rosa smiles slowly, "He knows that the memory of Katniss stirs their passions, but he does not look at you...he thinks you weak. And you are not a leader in the traditional sense...no, rather you shine a light on the pain we thoughtlessly cause. So no, Snow doesn't know how powerful you are. He just sees a pawn."
He also thinks I will betray any resistance I know of, I remind myself and wince.
"You've taken a big risk," I murmur, looking up at her, "If he knew… if he saw your exhibition..."
"I know the risks." Rosa's jaw hardens, "I will not live in fear, staying silent for fear of my life when every year…" her mouth works tightly before she sighs, "You know this more than I. I can't sit back when I know what I know. When I can see what's happening… and with you we have a chance. We won't put you in danger but…"
"You didn't want to waste your opportunity." I sigh, "There's nothing to share. Yet."
Rosa's smile is radiant, "Ah little dove. That yet is what I live for."
We return to District 4 the next morning, and arrive in the late evening, both of us stumbling off the platform with abject relief.
Neither of us object to the dusk stroll down the beachside boulevard, letting the salt air flood our nostrils and drive away the memories of cloying perfume and rooms doused in fragrance.
Even now in the late evening light there is a lot of activity here in the District, fishing boats coming in off the water, as men and women bustle. We receive nods and greetings from many of the people who spot us, smiles and warmth. It's true and honest and warms some part of me that had grown cold in the Capitol's embrace.
Thanks to my Victory the District will eat well for the rest of this year, up until Reaping day. Many will be stockpiling non perishable goods, simply because who knows when we'll have another District 4 Victor. It means no one will be forced into taking Tesserae this year. And that is a relief.
I try not to think of Reaping Day, or of my new role as Mentor.
The two of us enter the Victor's village and Finnick comes to an abrupt halt, hand catching my arm tightly. I glance at him in surprise, before looking around, and finally I spot what it is that he's seen.
Two golden haired men are standing near the walk up to my house, talking with Mags and Darrien.
Two very familiar golden haired men.
"Oh help," I breathe and dived behind the fountain, dragging a weakly grinning Finnick with me, "What are they doing here? What are they doing here?"
"I think that's something you're going to have to ask them, dearest." Finnick snickers at me, which turns into silent chuckles as I punch his arm, "Beating me up won't change the fact you have to come out from behind this fountain."
"I don't want to…" I whine plaintively at him, feeling raw and exposed.
I'd thought about seeing them again of course, but I'd expected it to come at the Victory Tour. I was supposed to have three more months of space, letting Peeta grieve, figuring out Cato.
But now they are here, waiting for me, while I still have the scent of the Capitol on my skin.
"Yes you do." Finnick tugs me up and we walk around the fountain towards the group, "Well well well...what do we have here?" he calls out jovially, mask slipping on with practiced ease, and they turn to look at us.
The sight of Cato sends a frisson of something through me, and I grin weakly at him as his blue eyes lock onto mine. He strides forward at once and wraps his arms around me, lifting me in a snug embrace, feet off the ground as he buries his face in my throat. I hug him back tightly, fingers burying in his golden hair and let myself savour the smell of him, and the feeling of him so warm and strong in my arms.
Safety. I'd forgotten how good it felt.
Slowly he lowers me to the ground and brushes his hand against my cheek, "You look tired."
"Thanks," I grin at him weakly and then turn to his companion, nerves gripping me once more.
Peeta is thinner than he was, and has lost some of the softness around his face. There are dark bruises under his eyes, like he hasn't slept since I last saw him, and his skin is ashen and waxy.
For the first time I wonder if anyone has been looking after Peeta, and I can't believe I haven't considered this before. I know he has family, but his comments about them have hardly painted a picture of supportiveness. I asked Haymitch to look after him...but Haymitch buries his sorrows in liquor.
Who has Peeta had?
Guilt prickles down my spine, but I know that Cato would have been in contact with him, which is something. And I'd genuinely thought he wouldn't want me to contact him.
"Peeta," I murmur softly, a soft smile on my lips, and he smiles back weakly, seemingly unable to help himself.
"Sky."
"I was just about to invite them in for some tea." Mags interrupts smoothly, breaking our intense staring, "But now that you're back, Sky would you like to get them settled?"
"Oh!" I look back at the two boys, "You're staying with me?"
"Cato says we have a lot to discuss," Peeta nods, before adding hesitantly, "If...that's okay with you?"
"Absolutely!" I blurt out eagerly, before blushing softly as Darrien laughs at me, "I mean...I'd like that...come on." I smile at them brightly and lead them up towards my house. As I glance back I see Finnick flash me a bright grin and a thumbs up, as Darrien hides another laugh.
Assholes, I think fondly.
Upstairs I hesitate, as the boys join me on the landing.
"The houses all seem to have the same, or similar layout," Peeta observes quietly, "Makes sense I guess."
"Yeah, except the District 2 ones are made of stone," Cato points out, "So that's interesting…"
"All the bedrooms are up here," I tell them, and hesitate, unsure, "I...uh…"
"I'll take this one," Peeta interjects kindly, and heads to the opposite end of the hallway, to the bedroom with a view out over the Tributes Village.
Which leaves me with Cato.
He eyes me with those piercing blue eyes.
"So sweetheart," he winks at me, "Where am I sleeping?"
I glare at him and he laughs, picking up his bag and heading into my own bedroom. Hiding a small smile I watch him go, before heading downstairs to make some drinks.
That night the three of us are tucked in my living-room as we eye each other seriously over our mugs.
"I…" Peeta breaks the silence, before awkwardly swallowing, "I should apologise to you Sky…."
"No." I rush to say, but he holds up a hand.
"I do want to. You've been nothing but…" he hesitates again and I slip off my seat on the couch and cross to crouch before him where he's sitting on my lounge. I take his hand in mine and lift it to my lips, pressing a kiss to his fingers, and I feel him shake as tears spill over. His hands reach for me and I press close, sliding half onto his lap as we cling together.
His whispers of "I'm sorry," and mine of "Shhh, don't be." mesh together as we cry, and comfort each other. It's a relief, and I imagine Peeta is feeling the same.
Cato waits until we're mostly calm, and then he comes over, wrapping us both up in a warm embrace and we snuggle into him for a moment, before we all separate once more.
"I told Peeta," Cato tells me quietly, "About your deal...about protecting us from the Capitol."
I stare at him, "Cato…"
"I needed to know." Peeta hastens to assure me, touching my wrist, "God, Sky, I had no idea…"
"I didn't want you to know until you were ready." I assure him quietly, "The last thing I wanted was to add to your burdens…"
"Sky…" Peeta shakes his head at me, but his lips are curved up, "You take too much upon yourself. What about your burdens?"
I wave aside his words, "Peeta, you were hurt, and grieving. The last thing you needed right then was to be told that in order to avoid being prostituted to the Capitol, you had to pretend to love me and Cato. You needed time, space..."
"District 12 is nothing but time and space," Peeta shudders slightly, face looking haunted in the low light, "It's alright...living in the Victor's village is better than being back at the bakery, but...its quiet. Everyone treats me like I'm made of glass, or like I don't exist. They're grateful for the food, but it's like they don't know what to do with me any more. I don't belong...I never did, but at least then I was sort of one of them... Now…I'm nothing."
I squeeze his hands softly, "You are not nothing, don't ever think that Peeta. I know the last few months have been…"
He meets my gaze and we both smile weakly.
"Well." I continue, one of my hands lifting to gently cradle his cheek, "I know what you mean, before the Games I was an oddity."
"Shocking," Cato drawls and then yelps as I reach down and peg a cushion at him without looking away from Peeta's blue eyes.
"You're not alone," I tell him quietly, "No matter what's happening around us, you have me...and probably Cato too. Okay?"
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Cato's eyeroll, and Peeta's eyes crinkle at the corners in response, hiding a smile.
"Okay."
"Thank god that's done," Cato drawls, sprawled out on the couch, "All that emotion was giving me a rash."
I grin at Peeta and he smiles back in answer, but then I sober slightly.
"We're almost done...we do have to talk about this deal with the Capitol."
The two boys straighten slightly, unease on both their expressions.
"Peeta...I don't want you to feel like you're…" I hesitate, and glance at Cato, "Um…"
"Trapped." Cato interjects, sitting up properly, "Even though you kind of are."
I glare at him, "Not helping!"
"Look, sorry Sky, but we shouldn't sugarcoat this." Cato's blue eyes lock onto Peeta's, "You do have a choice, be in a relationship with me and Sky for the eternal future, or...be bought by Capitol sponsors for whatever they want to do with you."
Peeta's face pales again.
"It was the only way we could think of to save you Peeta," I say softly, shooting Cato a reproachful look, "And after seeing how Finnick…" I swallow, "God, I don't want that for you."
"I appreciate it," Peeta hastens to assure me, "I don't...I couldn't...so thank you for…" he struggles with his words before he says, "Tell me you didn't have to bargain yourself for this Sky."
"I do have to escort Sponsors," I tell them quietly, but the heartbreak on Peeta's face makes me hasten to add, "But Snow agreed to make my contract non-sexual. I don't have to sleep with them...just give them my time...and Snow my loyalty."
Peeta's face twists, "And so you're loyal to Snow?"
My house is free of bugs, so I'm able to answer him honestly, "Never. But I will use every tool in my power to save the ones I love...including you Peeta."
He swallows slightly, "So...you want to talk about our relationship?"
I nod, feeling awkward and strange, "We're in a romantic relationship, all three of us. You and Me. Me and Cato...Cato and you."
Peeta glances at Cato, "And you're okay with this? I seem to recall you being rather jealous of me and Sky spending time together…"
"That was before." Cato shakes his head, "And yeah, I'm fine with this. In fact it was my idea."
Peeta glances at me in shock and I nod, "It was."
""See?" Cato gestures grandly, "You can thank me now."
I peg another pillow at him as Peeta hides a laugh.
Cato mock glares at me before turning to Peeta, leaning forwards earnestly, "I don't do this...emotional stuff so let me keep it simple. I would rather die than see you or Sky hurt. And I think that in itself is a kind of love. So I'm fine."
"And you'll be fine with the displays of affection in public?" I ask both of them, "There will be times we'll be seen in public without one of the three of us, we must all be comfortable together."
Cato shrugs easily, he's used to being physical, displaying possession and control and dominance through touch and gesture. But Peeta hesitates. He's shyer, more withdrawn. He's not grown up with the no holds barred attitude of 2 or the emotionally supportive ways of District 4. His life has been hard, and brutal and he's loved the same girl for as long as he can remember.
In some ways, fixating on Katniss has kept him safe, a defensive shield against getting hurt, against giving anyone a chance.
But Cato and I are past that shield now, and he's frightened, even if he doesn't want to admit it.
I smile at him softly, "Hey…" he glances over at me, "It's okay. Practice makes perfect."
It turns out Cato's idea of practice is making Peeta sleep in the giant four-poster bed with us.
"I...but…" Peeta stutters, even as Cato manhandles him across the threshold and bundles him into the bed, "Cato!"
"Don't force him, Cato." I shake my head at him, amused and concerned at the same time, "It's been a big day…"
"The sooner we're all comfortable, the sooner we'll be safe," Cato informs us, before hopping into bed too and watching me expectantly.
I glance at Peeta, asking him silently if he's actually okay with this, and he smiles wryly, before shedding his shirt and pants and settling down into the pillows, a silent acceptance of Cato's domineering idea.
Cato smirks.
I roll my eyes and disappear into the bathroom, returning after my ablutions, dressed in my pyjamas as I turn out the light and slip into bed with them.
Cato and I slide together easily, as he curls around my back, arm curved around my stomach and fingers lightly stroking the soft skin in the hollows of my hip bones.
Peeta hesitates, and I can hear his soft breaths in the darkness before slowly he shifts forward and his hand lightly touches my jaw.
I smile softly and gently guide him close, letting our fingers twine as our legs tangle together.
Cato's hand leaves my hip, presumably to help tug Peeta close, to assure him we both want him here, and I feel Peeta smile in the darkness, his forehead against mine.
Very softly, feeling brave in the darkness, his lips find mine in a soft, chaste kiss, like two moths bumping together.
"Thank you," he breathes, "Both of you."
"Don't worry about it Peeta," I murmur back, stroking his fingers with my thumb, "We're a team."
Cato's voice is a low, warm rumble in my ear, "How did I end up with two of the sappiest people in Panem?"
Peeta and I grin at each other, and our lover grumbles at us, his arms tightening around us both, before he kisses the back of my neck and settles in.
"You're mine."
And as I drift asleep, feeling happier than I could ever deserve to be, I know he's talking to both of us.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Next time: The Trio work on their relationship, which doesn't always run smoothly. The Victory Tour looms and the other Victors have been busy plotting.
Here's how I see the relationship. I don't think any of them are 'in love' with each other, not yet at least. They are all attracted to each other, but not necessarily in the strictest romantic sense.
Cato and Sky have a deep physical attraction which is now being augmented by an emotional connection as well.
Sky and Peeta are deeply emotionally connected, they think very similarly and there is definitely a kind of love there, even if it's not the passionate love Sky and Cato share. Of course this could deepen into a romantic love too, which is more likely now they are in this situation. Without that impetus I don't think either of them would have ever fallen into a romantic relationship with each other.
And Cato and Peeta? They care for each other a lot, I think Peeta compliments Cato in a lot of the ways Sky does, but Peeta is able to disconnect himself more than Sky can. Cato already felt possessive of Peeta, after keeping him safe for three weeks. And I also see Cato as being the sort to not much care about gender. He's physically attracted to women but he's definitely emotionally attracted to Peeta, which makes this fascinating!