The drive from Cato's house to the hospital is a quick one. By the time the ambulance makes it there, Cato gains consciousness. His lips begin to fade from a dark blue-purple back to its natural pinkish hue. Even his skin looks back to normal. He looks around him, noticing the white walls surrounding a small white bed with white sheets. All the white makes him feel slightly nauseous. He doesn't recognize his surroundings, and that confuses him. His temper begins to flare once again. When a man dressed in a white coat approaches him, he instantly begins to swing, enraged by his confusion.
"Whoa, calm down, son!" the man says as he backs away from Cato's swinging fist. He waits for a moment until Cato has settled down a little, but decides to keep a safe distance, just in case. "Do you know where you are?"
"No," Cato answers flatly, irritated by the question. He thinks on his answer for a moment before the obvious strikes him. "A hospital?"
"Yes, you're at Panem Hospital. You had a bit of an episode. Do you remember what happened?" the man asks.
"Did I hurt someone?" Cato asks, worried of what the answer may be.
The man looks at him, eyebrows raised in shock. "What makes you say that, son?"
Instantly realizing his mistake, Cato shakes his head. "Nevermind. What am I doing here?"
"You had a seizure," the man explains.
"A seizure? I don't understand," Cato says.
"Son, I'm a doctor here at Panem Hospital. My name is Dr. Aurelius and I work in the emergency department. Now I'm going to ask you a few routine questions, just to make sure you're alright," the man says.
Cato wrinkles his eyebrows in apprehension. "Okay…"
"What is your name?" Dr. Aurelius asks.
"Cato," he answers simply. "If you're going to ask me a bunch of stupid questions, don't bother. Tell me what the fuck is going on. What's this shit about a seizure? And where's Marvel?"
"I'm right here, Cato," a soft voice says behind him.
Turning around in the bed, Cato can finally see Marvel, who's standing quietly by the doorframe, watching from a short distance, looking tired and worried. Cato feels a bit relieved to see him. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was even holding. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Marvel admits. "One minute, we were at your place talking and the next minute, you threw up, fell into the couch, and your whole body started to shake! You weren't breathing for a long time and I couldn't get you to even look at me. Then you started to make these weird sounds from your mouth and your face turned blue. I got scared, so I called 9-1-1. The paramedic said you had a seizure."
Another wave of confusion settles in Cato's mind. He looks from Marvel to Dr. Aurelius, who nods his head in confirmation as he reaches for a clipboard and pen. "Cato, I'd like to perform a couple of tests to find out what had caused the seizure. Have you ever had one before?"
"No," Cato answers honestly. He'd never even witnessed one. It was strange, knowing he had gone through something like that and had absolutely no recollection of it ever happening.
"Does anyone in your family have a history of epilepsy or seizures?" Dr. Aurelius continues.
"No," Cato answers again.
Dr. Aurelius scribbles away on the clipboard, jotting down notes. "Have you had any headaches lately, or any other symptoms out of the norm?"
"No," Cato grunts, annoyed. But then something hits him… he had been getting quite a few headaches lately; strange ones. Sometimes he'd get nauseous as well. "Wait, yeah. I've been getting these weird headaches sometimes. They don't feel like normal headaches. I don't know how to explain it. Sometimes I get sick, too. Like I want to throw up."
Nodding his head, Dr. Aurelius continues to write down notes. When he's finished, he looks back up at Cato. "Any behavioral changes?"
Cato shakes his head, but Marvel instantly interjects. "Actually," he starts, "he's been having a hard time keeping his temper in control."
At this, Dr. Aurelius and Cato both look back at Marvel. Cato knows his words to be true, but fails to see what it had to do with anything. He can't recall if he's ever been or felt different. It's true, sometimes he gets so angry, all he can see is red and nothing else matters. He doesn't recognize friends and family from his enemies, and when it's over, he can't identify exactly what happened. He always suspected it might just be his natural aggression. His father had a bit of a temper as well. It just seemed like some sort of personality trait that just got passed down the family line.
Dr. Aurelius taps his pen against his bottom lip in thought. He suspects he already knows the reason for Cato's seizure. "This temper," he asks, "has it ended with physically violent results?"
Marvel and Cato stare at one another, unsure how to answer the question. Knowing that this was something for Cato to answer, Marvel decides to keep quiet. He looks down at the ground, suddenly interested in his shoes. Cato looks back at the doctor with a guilty look on his face. "I… yeah, sometimes."
The realization clicks and Dr. Aurelius asks in regard to Marvel's current bruised and battered form, "Are those wounds the result of that temper?"
Marvel's head snaps up at the question, eyes wide. He instantly shakes his head. "No, he didn't do anything to me," he lies. He still feels the need to protect his best friend.
"Listen," Dr. Aurelius says, "I am bound by confidentiality. If those wounds are the result of an episode, I need to know. No one else will find out and I promise it will stay off the record."
Marvel still shakes his head, but the guilt begins to bother Cato. He looks over at his best friend, the one he's known and protected his whole life. This guy has always been there for him. Even now, after he's hurt him so many times before, he still tries to protect him. "Yeah," he whispers. He looks down at the ground in shame, the remorse hitting him like a ton of bricks. He clears his throat, forces himself to stand brave, and looks back up at the doctor. "Yes, I did it. I hurt him. I don't… I don't know why I did it. I couldn't stop. It's- um, it's happened a couple of times."
Dr. Aurelius says nothing, letting the words sink slowly. Underneath his stone-like presence, he understands and even pities the blonde patient in the hospital bed. "I see," he finally says after several minutes. "Cato, I'd like to perform a couple of tests, particularly an MRI scan."
"What's an MRI?" Cato asks curiously. He's never had to visit the hospital very often. The term was foreign to him.
"An MRI is a non-invasive way for us to take a look at your brain. It's actually a very simple process. We inject you with a dye that will help us get a clear picture of the physical state of the organ. All you would have to do is lay down in a machine and hold still for a couple of minutes while we take pictures."
Determined not to show his nervousness, Cato sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, preventing him from saying anything too quickly. He wrinkles his forehead in concentration, taking in everything the doctor had just said. "Alright. When do we start?"
"The paramedics have already installed an IV in your arm. I'm going to inject the dye into the tube and then we'll take you to the other room. Your friend here can wait for you in the lobby until our tests are done, then he may join you in your room while you wait for the results. Do you want me to contact your parents for you?" Dr. Aurelius asks.
Cato shakes his head. "No, it's fine. Marvel can tell them what's going on."
The room is different from what Cato had originally expected. It's small, but large enough for a nurse to escort him in while he lays in the bed. The large machine is intimidating at first, but Cato quickly pushes the thought from his mind, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. It doesn't take long. He lays on the flat part of the machine, and it slowly moves inside. It's circular, with strange, soft lights. Cato is instructed to stay very still while the machine twirls around his head. The motion creeps him out a little, but he doesn't show his discomfort.
When the test is done, he's brought to another room to await his results. Marvel rushes inside the moment he's allowed to be there. "Is everything alright?" he asks.
"I don't know," Cato admits. "I just got back from the test. It was weird."
Marvel opens his mouth to speak when the doctor makes his way into the room at that very moment. The teenagers look to him, wondering what the results might be.
"I have some bad news," Dr. Aurelius says. "I received the results from your MRI and we found something."
"What is it?" Cato asks, confused.
"I'm afraid we found a tumor in your brain," Dr. Aurelius explains. "It's on the frontal lobe, which may account for your seizure, nausea, and even your mood swings. You've probably had it for many years, but were never aware of it because the symptoms didn't begin to show until now."
Shock. It's the only word that can possibly explain the atmosphere of the room.
"Am, uh… am I… am I going to die?" Cato asks hesitantly. He's not so sure he wants to know the answer. There was still so much to experience, so much to live for. He hadn't accomplished anything that he'd wanted to yet. To have that taken from him would be devastating. What legacy would he leave behind?
"We need to run another test to see whether the tumor is cancerous or not," Dr. Aurelius says.
"Oh," Cato mumbles, losing hope rather quickly.
Marvel feels as if his heart has turned to glass and shattered in his chest. It takes everything in him not to break down and cry, but he knows he has to be strong for Cato. He wraps an arm around Cato's shoulder, forcing a soft smile, and says, "Don't worry. I'm sure it's nothing. And medicine has gotten so good, they'll probably be able to get rid of it. Right, doc?"
Dr. Aurelius looks from Marvel's hopeful green eyes to Cato's broken blue ones. He knows Cato is falling apart from the inside. "I can't say for certain, but there is a good chance of recovery. Your friend is right, medicine has come a long way."
Offering just the smallest, sad smile, Cato nods his head. "Yeah, thanks."
A phone chimes and Marvel looks at the contact. It's Cato's mother. "It's your mom. I'll talk to her outside," Marvel says.
Cato simply nods his head, uninterested. Dr. Aurelius and Marvel make their way out of the room to give him some privacy. This wasn't how he expected things to go. This wasn't how we wanted to leave things between everyone. He realizes now that he owes Gloss an apology. But more than that, he owes Peeta one.
Reaching for his jeans on the chair next to his bed, he pulls his cell phone out of the pocket. A text message wouldn't be sufficient, he knows this. So he calls him.
"Hello?"
Cato smiles when he realizes Peeta didn't hate his guts to the point of ignoring him. For some reason, that gave him comfort. "Hey, Peeta. It's Cato."
"Oh, hi. Um, how are you?"
"Well," Cato chuckles, "I'm in the hospital."
"You are? Are you okay?" Peeta screeches.
"Yeah. I had a seizure or some shit. Anyway, I just wanted to apologize to you for what happened at school. I shouldn't have reacted like that. It was fucked up, and well… I'm sorry," Cato says genuinely.
"You… you are?" Peeta asks in a hopeful manner.
Cato nods his head until he realizes Peeta cannot see him. "Yeah, I am." A moment of silence passes. "Well, um, goodbye, I guess."
"Cato?" Peeta calls.
Debating whether or not to hang up, Cato makes his decision rather quickly. "Yeah?"
"Did you ever like me?" Peeta asks. Lately, he'd been confused. He doesn't know whether Cato ever really liked him or was simply trying to use him. He still felt conflicted with his emotions. Was he angry and hurt or did he still care? Did he have feelings for Cato? Or was it all some stupid, adolescent crush? Is it the same feeling he has with Finnick? Did they both use him?
Cato bites on his bottom lip, unsure how to answer that question. But if everything was going to end for him, he might as well be honest to those who deserve it. "I still do, Peeta."
With a warm heart, Peeta lets out a breath he'd been holding since he asked the question. "Cato?"
"Yeah, Peeta?" Cato asks.
"I like you, too."
Where do you go from here? How was Cato supposed to respond? This was unfamiliar territory for him, to admit his feelings. The corners of his lips curl into a smile. "I'll talk to you later, Peeta."
"Okay," Peeta says, slightly disappointed. "Bye, Cato."
The line clicks. Peeta looks at his phone with a variety of emotions forming inside him. Then an idea forms. He wants to visit Cato in the hospital. He dials Gale's number.
Feeling the vibration of his cell phone in his pocket, Gale's gray eyes flutter open to see Domi still stroking his hair in her lap, quietly reading a book. She's tied her hair in a messy bun, and she isn't wearing her typical cat-eye and red lipstick, she's completely without makeup. She still looks beautiful. He watches her for a moment, admiring her natural beauty, but he feels slightly nauseous. Whatever he took, he regrets it now.
"Domi?" His voice is hoarse.
"Hey, sweet pea. How are you feeling?" Domi asks, placing the book down. She strokes his cheek, watching him with concerned brown eyes.
"Like shit," Gale answers honestly. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"
She cocks her eyebrow, wondering how much he'd already forgotten. "You called me, lovely. I came over as soon as I could."
Suddenly recalling the events, Gale feels slightly embarrassed. "Oh, right. How long have I been out?"
"Not too long," Domi smiles. "Couple hours at most." She stops stroking his face, and he immediately craves her touch again. "Why did you take heroin?"
"What?" Gale asks.
"Why did you take heroin?" Domi repeats.
Gale shrugs his shoulders, feeling awkward. "I don't know. I guess everything just got to me and I needed to get away." He looks at her, still watching him closely. "You wouldn't understand."
Domi chews on her bottom lip. "If I didn't understand, I would have taken your ass to a hospital instead. This isn't new to me, Gale. I understand perfectly. What was bothering you so much, pumpkin? You can tell me."
Gale watches her carefully, unsure how to answer. "Katniss is in love with me."
Letting out a sigh, Domi nods her head. "I know, sweet pea. Do you have feelings for her?"
"No," Gale answers flatly. "It upsets her that I can't return those feelings. Is that why you two were fighting?"
Domi squints her eyes in distaste. "No." She leans back on the bed. "Gale, I started the fight. I mean, she said some things that hurt me, and I reacted physically. I'm sorry I hurt your friend." She could always be counted on to admit her own faults.
"What did she say to you that made you so angry?" Gale asks in curiosity.
Thinking it over, Domi realizes Gale should know the truth. "She mentioned my past with my last boyfriend. He was older… ten years older, in fact. He was… it started very differently. He was charming, sweet, caring, loving, handsome, everything you could ask for in a relationship. But after a year or so, things changed. He'd call me a whore if I wanted to hang out with any of my friends, force me to undress so he could inspect my body if he thought I was cheating on him, and things eventually escalated to the point where it got very violent. He nearly killed me on two occasions, and after everything I've been through, and everything my mother went through, I had to learn to fight back. I'm not proud of my history, Gale. But I did what I had to to survive. When Katniss brought those memories back, I snapped. I won't take shit from anyone anymore. Especially not from some girl who doesn't even know what the hell she's talking about. Whether she meant to or not, she threatened me and my loved ones."
"I'm sorry," Gale whispers. "I didn't know. I don't think Katniss knew either."
"She knew enough to try and use my past against me. I'll be damned if I sit back and take that shit from another woman. It's hard enough living in this world with the shit-men in it. No offense." She looks over at Gale to see if he is upset by what she is trying to explain. He's not; just politely watching her. She sighs. "I have a very small nit of friends, pumpkin. I try to be nice to everyone, but the truth is… people scare the living shit out of me. They make so nervous I forget how to breathe sometimes. I know it sounds crazy, but I often wonder when all the good things are going to be taken away from me. I feel like people look at me, through me, but don't see anything but a mirror. People are too self-absorbed and self-worshipping. There isn't enough love in this world, and that scares me."
"The world sucks. People are not true," Gale says.
"What was that, lovely?" Domi asks. The quote sounds familiar, but she can't recall where she heard it from.
"Myka told me that one day when all that Facebook shit went down. It's a quote by Kurt Cobain," Gale explains.
"Ah," Domi smirks. "I thought I recognized it." She looks down at Gale, stroking his cheek again. "I told Finnick and Myka about your episode."
"What did you tell them?" Gale asks, worried. He didn't want them knowing too much of his business. Especially not Finnick. He didn't know him very well.
"Nothing more than they needed to know. I text Finnick and told him you had a breakdown and that you were alright, but to tell Myka to talk to you about it," Domi answers honestly. "I know you're not looking for a lecture, and I understand why you did it, but heroin is really serious. It doesn't just hurt the person taking it. It hurts everyone involved. I was really worried about you, little dove."
"You were?" Gale asks.
Domi nods her head. "Of course, I was. Drugs change people, and always for the worse in the end. I adore who you are, pumpkin. You have no idea how much a loss it would be to lose you."
Gale chews on his bottom lip. It's true, he didn't want to hear another lecture. But knowing how much Domi cares, knowing that he mattered to somebody, made his heart feel heavy. He felt less broken, more loved. "Domi?" he asks.
"Yes, lovely?" Domi responds.
"Can I kiss you?" Gale asks. He watches her cheeks grow pink and she nods her head before slowly leaning in. He holds her face in his hands and guides her closer until their lips meet in a soft kiss.
It's time for Gale to get his shit together. He was going to talk to Myka as soon as possible.
The door opens and Myka looks up from the tabletops to see who had the balls to waltz into a closed bar, but relaxes when he sees who has just come in. He smiles and says, "I was beginning to think you changed your mind and went home."
"I love you," Finnick suddenly blurts out.
Myka gives him a quizzical look, decides the comment is just a joke, and laughs. "Alright, Fin. I give in. Lets go," he says, shaking his head and getting ready to leave. But Finnick doesn't budge from his spot in the center of the bar. Myka looks back, wondering what's wrong. His brows furrow in confusion. "Finnick? You okay?"
But Finnick doesn't say a word. An awkward moment of tension fills the room until he finally steps forward towards Myka. When they're merely inches apart, he gently grabs the brunette's hair and pulls him in for a very heavy, passionate kiss.
Shocked, Myka freezes in place. Was this some sort of joke? What moved Finnick to act like this? Observing his warm skin, pulsing neck and wrists, and the sea-green eyes that are even more bright and vivid against the blood-shot, puffy surface, he knows Finnick has been crying. He was probably drunk. He frowns at the realization. "Are you alright? Do you need something to help sober you up?" he asks.
"I'm not drunk," Finnick says sternly. "I just… you need to know that I would never do anything to try and hurt you. I love you, Myka."
"I… I don't know what to say," Myka admits. He's terrified. Finnick had a knick for putting him into positions he was not comfortable with. First with the blatant flirting, then the dating inquiries, then the commitment of being in an official relationship, then the idea of moving in with him, it was more than he was ready to handle. But, despite all this, he knows he cares for Finnick, because Finnick has never given him a reason not to trust him.
Afraid that Myka will shut down again and reject him, Finnick does his best to put him at ease. "Then don't say anything. Come home with me tonight."
Uncertain yellow-green eyes meet sad and longing sea-green ones, and he knows Finnick is telling the truth. "Okay," he whispers.
They leave the bar hand-in-hand, a new understanding settling between them. Whatever this was, it was serious now. Finnick lets go of Myka's hand only long enough to open the passenger side of the car door for him before they both make themselves comfortable in their seats. The ride to Finnick's is quiet, peaceful, and slightly uncertain, but still comforting. This felt right.
They enter the quiet house with ease. Finnick's uncle is still, thankfully, out of town for business. When they make their way inside, Finnick grasps onto Myka's hand and leads him to the bedroom. He opens the door and ushers for Myka to go in before gently closing the door behind him. Myka hesitantly makes his way to the bed, sits down on the plush blankets and waits for the next move.
"Are you hungry? Thirsty? Can I get you anything?" Finnick asks.
Offering a small smile, Myka shakes his head.
"If you change your mind," Finnick says, "please help yourself to anything you want. You don't have to ask."
Myka softly nods his head before laying back in the bed. He was borderline exhausted.
Carefully watching the beautiful brunette laying in his bed, Finnick begins to strip his shirt and pants off, leaving him in just his white boxer-briefs, and walks over to him. He straddles the slightly smaller man and whispers in his ear, "You should get more comfortable. We don't have to do anything tonight. I'm just happy to have you here with me."
Blushing at the comment, Myka takes off his own clothing, stripping down to his black boxer-briefs. He looks over at Finnick, who's smiling at him, and leans in to press their lips together.
"Myka," Finnick breaks away from the kiss. "Why do you hate your birthday so much?"
Memories flood into Myka's head, and he feels very vulnerable again. He wanted to put all of that behind him, but Finnick kept pushing the matter. "If I tell you, I never want to hear or speak of it again," Myka says. He looks at Finnick, who nods in agreement, and lets out a sigh. "It's bad luck."
"What makes you say that?" Finnick asks.
Myka lets out a heavy sigh. This was always the worst part. Then again, he's never really confided in anyone like this. "My father killed himself on my sixth birthday. By my seventh, I was staying with my first foster family, and Joffrey was… well, the bastard broke my arm. By my tenth, I was back in the care facility and a bunch of kids jumped me. On my eleventh, another family traded my services for speed. I served as a drug mule. By the thirteenth, Cato's uncle took my virginity. The fifteenth and sixteenth, a man I was living with sold me to a bunch of his friends. I haven't mentioned my birthday since then. It's finally given me some peace."
Finnick stares at Myka in pure horror. This beautiful creature has been through way too much, it's almost unreal. "I'm so sorry, baby."
Myka shudders at the apology. He hates the concept of pity, it made him feel weak. "It's fine. All in the past, right? Can we talk about something else?"
"Okay," Finnick agrees. Now he understood. "Lets talk about what we're going to do to make your birthday this year the best you've ever had!"
Cocking an eyebrow, Myka is a bit confused by his statement. "But this is the best birthday I've ever had."
Finnick's eyes grow wide. "But we didn't celebrate!"
"You brought me dinner and cake," Myka reminds him. That was more than he could ask for.
"That's stupid. Think of something you really want. Anything. I'll give it to you." The words are not a simple statement; Finnick means what he says completely.
"Why would you do that?" Myka asks.
"I already told you. Because I love you, Myka Volkayne," Finnick says simply. He leans in and kisses Myka, gently at first, then works his way to something more hungry.
Breaking away from the kiss, Myka has a difficult time looking at him, but he finally does. "I love you, too, Finnick Odair," he says shyly.
Finnick grins at Myka's response, ready to take on the universe. He finally had the one thing he wanted in this world. It felt more amazing than anything he'd ever felt before. He kisses Myka again and again and again until their lips are swollen from the excited contact. He leans in to start up again, but Myka pulls back. "What's wrong, baby?"
"I thought about what I wanted for my birthday," Myka answers with a soft smile.
"What's that?" Finnick smirks.
"Lets get tattoos."
Grinning, Finnick instantly goes along with the idea. "Okay. First thing tomorrow, we're getting tattoos."
"Are you serious?" Myka asks, amused. He planned on adding many more to his collection, but he suspected that a permanent body modification might freak Finnick out.
"I'm dead serious. Are we getting matching tattoos? I want it someplace where everyone can see it," Finnick states. He brushes his fingertips into Myka's messy black hair, caressing the spot between his hairline and neck.
Myka's eyes grow wide with surprise. "Okay. What do you want to get?"
Finnick whispers into his ear. His suggestion makes Myka smile wider than he ever has before. It was perfect.
"Finnick?" Myka whispers.
"Hmmm?" Finnick asks as he wraps his arms around Myka, pulling him into his chest and nuzzling into his hair.
"Make love to me."
"Don't have to tell me twice," Finnick winks.
Just outside the house, a black van is parked just a couple spaces down. Wes eyes the lit up room with interest. Myka was somewhere in there… with him. It wouldn't be long now before he got his pet back.