Cookies A/N: So lately I've been slacking off, so sorry! But I'm bringing to you now the last Capitol chapter! You know what is next? The launch! And then the Bloodbath! How fun is that? XD

Okay, onto the chapter now! XD

Kai Brooke, 18 - District 4 male

BecauseOfKillianJones

Morning Before the Games

"May I present to you, the victor of the Seventh Hunger Games, Kai Brooke!"

I had a bloody sword my hands. The bloody body of a girl was dead at my feet.

I looked down to see who it was. Only it wasn't any of the other tributes.

It was Milah. My Milah. Dead.

I woke up startled with a knock on the door. Quickly, the knocking on the door had become a banging, and I got out of bed to answer the door. I walked across the room slowly and wiped the sleep out of my eyes.

I unlocked the door and then opened it to see our escort standing there with a big smile on his face. I noticed he was wearing two pairs of clothes in his arms, one for Gemini and the other for me. "Time to wake up!" she said. "Today is the big day! The Hunger Games offically start in an hour!" She handed me a pair of clothes and left. I went into the bathroom to shower. I took a very quick shower, and I go out feeling refreshed. I walked over to the mirror and did my usual routine. I left my hair on it's messy state, and I brushed my teeth. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was ready, I trained for this. I'm going to make my District and Milah proud. I tucked in the shell necklace. It was now time to put my arena outfit on.

I slid on some hick, black pants with pockets and a fleece layer inside, and then I put on the large a moisture-wicking fabric t-shirt .I then put on strong boots that lace up. i smiled at this. All these years, Tide and the other trainers have been teaching me how to prepare for every possible environment that could possibly be the arena, as black clothes mean low temperature, it's probably a frozen weastland.

I enter the dining room to see everyone waiting for me. Our stylists and escort seemed very happy, and also did our mentors but I know they don't like me. The prefer Gemini because they knew her before the Games, well let them. Once I step foot in that arena they will see who the real Kai Brooke is. I took the seat next to Gemini. She was wearing the same outfit, but her t-shirt was made specifically for girls. I noticed that shewas shaking a bit while drinking her hot chocolate.

"So, who are you two feeling?" Leo, my mentor asks.

"I'm ready. I really can't wait until I step foot on that arena." I say.

"Good. That's good, Kai. But remember Kai, not much confidence." Leo says.

"What about you, Gem?" Leo asks.

"I'm fine." She says, still shaking a bit. "I'm as ready as Kai is."

"You two still have that promise going on?" Shar asks, looking a bit nervous.

"Yes." I say. "We'll not kill each other. We'll focus on killing the other tributes." I attach my arm to Gemini's.

"Okay everyone!" our escort yells out. "Grab a quick bite to eat because we're leaving in five minutes!" our escort soon turned around and started up a conversation with the stylists and mentors. I pour myself some water and eat some light breakfast before our escort started calling to us. "Ok everyone!" our escort says. "It's time! Now if you would all follow me!". I stand up. My arm is so tightly attached to Gemini's that I drag her up with me. At first she remains quite still.

"Lighten up, Gem," I tell her. "You only get one shot in this after all."

"Please do not tell me what to do, Kai," she says, politely.

She knows I'm right though. She knows that you'll never have another shot at this, and she knows that it means she must make every second count.

She around, refusing to look me in the eye. I swear I hear her mutter a thank you though.

"You're welcome, Gemini m'lady," I mutter back to her. "I've got your back."

We all start following behind Merman. We first got into the glass elevator for a last time before the Games. We then got off the elevator once we got to the main floor, and our escort then led us to the main lobby. I looked at the sparkling chandelier as I walked underneath it. It was swaying slightly, and I felt Gem grip my hand a little bit .

Our escort then led us down a hallway we hadn't been down before. There wasn't as many doors in the hallway, but there was still a few here and there. This particular hallway seemed to go straight forever, but we finally reached two single metal doors at the end of it.

"Okay everyone!" our escort yells. "This is goodbye. Your mentors will lead you the rest of the way!" Merman quickly shakes my hand and hugs Gemini. I extricate my arm from Gemini and kiss her hand. The, Leo leds me throught the elevator behind the metal door and give some last minutes advices. We arrive in a rooftoop where a hovercraft is already waiting for me.

"Good luck, Kai." He says and shakes my hand.

"And may the odds be ever in your favour!" I laugh and walk to the hovercraft without looking back. Before I arrive to the door of the hovercraft some peacekeepers appear out of nowhere and escort me inside the hovercraft. There are twelve seats in the room, and they all are occupied with tributes except for one empty one. I was practically thrown into the chair, and I was told to put some sort of seatbelt on. I looked around at all the tributes and noticed we were all wearing the same arena outfits. Only twelve tributes were here so the other twelve must be in the other hovercraft. I'm sitting between the 12 year old from District 3, and the boy from District 9. The nurse looking lady is holding some sort of large metal looking tube or needle of some sort. She suddenly walks up towards me and instantly takes hold of my left arm.

"it's your tracker." she says as she inserted the tube or needle into arm. I watch the thing enter into my skin. The hovercraft started making a weird sound again, and all the tributes including myself looked around confused and startled. It felt like the same feeling as when the hovercraft slowly started up. I then realized that the hovercraft was slowing down, and I knew it was flying lower towards the ground. We were now about to land, and that meant it was almost time to go into the arena. I hear the girl from District 6 sobbing. Pathetic. Crying will not get you very far in the Hunger Games. Being a fighter though, that will.

Brandon Heath, 12 - District 9 male

The Mockingjay Lives

Morning Before The Games

"Early morning cheerfulness can be extremely obnoxious."
-William Feather

"Goooood morning, Patty! Did you have a good sleep?"
Paiton's eyes fly open, and she swears, evidently startled by my face inches from hers. She leaps out of bed, ready to get herself some Brandon a la creme, then she realizes she's in her nightgown.
"Crazy Cat," she growls, "I'm going to kill you."
"Nope, you mixed us up! I'm going to kill you instead! Now put on your clothes, or I might just throw open the door."
I saunter away, giggling, as she spouts a torrent of profanity and slams her door so hard a picture falls off the wall and breaks.

I'm. So. EXCITED!

This is my final morning before the Games! Barely any time left! The killing actually starts today. I can just imagine the blood seeping into the ground around my victims, my clothes and new knife stained scarlet. I can't wait for the squelch of bursting organs, the gargled screams of dying tributes. Killing people will be so much more fun than killing creatures, because people are bigger and tougher so they'll last longer while I'm playing with them.
And people can scream.

There are a few I'm definitely going after. For one, Paiton, or as I affectionately refer to her, "Patty," "Pat-pat," "Pitter," or "Pocus." She's so annoying and mean. I mean, wouldn't you much rather be tortured by me, so at least I'm having fun, or be locked in a room with Pat-pat? Exactly. My version of torture is more merciful. You'd beg for me to kill you after just one hour with Pitter.
And there's Nitya Allardyce, known to me as "Nitwit," "Nighty-night," or "All-of-her-dies." Get it? All-of-her-dies? Allardyce? Ha ha ha ha ha...ha ha...ha. Never mind. She's only twelve, like I am, and she's such a scaredy-cat. It's like she's actually not glad to be in the Hunger Games! Crazy, right? She'll be so easy to kill.
I could kill the guy with one arm, what's-his-name? Oh yeah, Metro Davis, or "Mighty Doofus." He's got one arm, did I mention? It'll be so easy to kill him. Just a quick kick, a knee in the nose, and while he's falling over since he can't keep his balance with only one arm, I'll stab! Of course, I'd like to play with him first.

"Hello, Brandon! Aren't you excited?"
It's Desaree. The only person who understands how thrilled I am to be in the Games.
"What do you think?" I roll my eyes. "Of course I'm excited! Why wouldn't I? Soon I'll have new people to kill, maim, and dismember! I'm going to pull out their intestines! Huh, that makes me hungry for spaghetti. It is breakfast, anyway."
"Okay, dear," she says, backing away and tittering nervously. "Have fun, and don't die."
I freak out everyone, even Desaree.

Humming cheerfully, I waltz over to the buffet table. There's an avox waiting by it. I snap my fingers, and she leaps to attention, hurriedly bowing to me.
"Get me some food," I tell her. I don't need to say please. Avoxes do my orders anyway.

After she fills my plate with the things that I've eaten almost solely in the Capitol- cake, cookies, and sweet fruit- she balances a glass of fizzy drink on her head and places everything on a table. Everything except the drink, which she drops and shatters on the polished marble floor.
She makes frantic gestures, obviously trying to apologize, and starts to mop it up.
"Hey, it's okay," I say sweetly, reaching for a knife on the table. "You don't have to clean it up. After all, you'll have more to clean up in a second."

She looks puzzled for a moment. Then I stab down into her hand, making blood spurt out and stain my crisp white suit. This is wonderful! I haven't gotten to do this since the Reaping day!

She lets out a choked gasp, unable to scream, and clutches her wounded hand to her body. I don't see if she runs for help, though, because I'm already dancing back into Pocus's room.

"Hiya Patty! Having fun? Like my shirt?"
"Brandon, why the hell is there blood on your shirt? And I just finished changing! If you had walked in a few seconds earlier, you would be dead," she roars, hastily doing up the last buttons on her shirt.

"Oh, so sorry, dear Pat-pat," I say breezily, sticking my tongue out at her. "There's blood on my shirt because...I went forward in time, killed you, took a bath in your blood, forgot to dry off, and ate a blood cupcake on my way back to this time."
While she's processing my insane explanation, I jump onto her bed and throw the pillow at her. "Pillow fight! Come on, Pitter, whatcha got?"
I sway back and forth, waving my fists like a boxer, her mattress creaking like a ship at sea. She hurls the pillow back, hitting me in the face.
"Wow, good job! But I've got one better!" I grab her blanket and leap off the bed toward her. "Cannonball!"
I throw the blanket over her head and push her over. While she's yelling, I run full pelt out of her room. I pull open every door I see, shouting and laughing and screaming at the top of my lungs.

I'm utterly, indescribably, unspeakably, unstoppably crazy. Wheeeee!

Imogene Guthrie, 15 - District 10 female

Nrrrd-grrrl-Meg

Morning Before the Games

"I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to." -Jimi Hendrix

My body settled into his like it belonged there, like nothing else in the world mattered. His breath warmed the base of my neck, his arms protected me from the sun that threatened to rise and spoil this perfect night. But, alas, the sun always rises and I could feel the heat hitting my bare skin even though the sea of blankets we had entwined ourselves in. His coughed gently and pulled me closer, my body still fitting in the groove of his own, our combined warmth spreading through me, head to toe.

He must have thought I was still sleeping, because he softly moved my crimson locks and whispered in my ear, "Can I keep you?"

Silent tears fell from my eyes, giving into the gravity of our situation. How does one answer something as simple and beautiful as that, knowing these could be our last hours of life as we know it? How does one go on as if nothing happened, that last night didn't change everything? We gave each other something that we can never take back, something that even the Capitol couldn't take away. But if it was something so beautiful, why do I regret it?

Regret...that might be too strong of a word. After all, the thought had of been in the back of my mind when I knocked on his bedroom door in the middle of the night when sleep evaded me. And I could have said no at any time, but my heart fought against my mind at all turns. No, it isn't what happened between us that I regret, it's the timing, the whole situation behind it. It's the Hunger Games, that's what has my head reeling. When I die, Rex will go home. He will have knowledge of what was done here, what transpired between these sheets. I know him, I know him better than he knows himself and what I know is this – it will eat him alive. He will believed he took advantage of me, that he forced me into this. He will suffer for this.

And if I live?

No. I already made peace with this. Rex Kingston deserves life outside of this arena, his family needs him back home. If the "God" the girl from Eleven keeps babbling about does, in fact, exist, I made peace with him. If only I had a wooden "T" like she has, maybe then I can know that he heard me. For now, I'll have to try this praying thing that she does. Maybe I can promise not to kill anyone, to only maim and injure. After all, in all six years of the Hunger Games, no one has ever punched someone to death. At least, not that I know of. Then again, the Games haven't seen the likes of me and my whole "6" Training Score. Besides, who could I really take out in this place?

The pair from One are out of the question. The boy seems like a sweetheart under all of that muscle and from what Rex picked up, he volunteered to give his nephew a better life. And Ariella...if I live, I'd have to look her father in the face and know, without a shadow of a doubt, I killed the daughter he never got the chance to know. Two, just as off limits. The girl is a mother and Reaped, just as I was. She cried for the son she hoped to return to during her interview and the Capitol cried along with her. And the boy...he's a dweeb. Sure, he's a trained volunteer, but he's a little boy trapped in a big boy's body. Nitya, the bitch from Nine, the breathtakingly beautiful, but stone-faced boy from Seven? Am I ready to end their lives just so either of us can go home?

And to add to the troubles on my mind, I slept with Rex.

He found us together. Of course he would; if my bedroom is empty and Peacekeepers wouldn't let us wonder around outside of our prison cells, especially this close to the Games. Synthe went ballistic, calling us every name he could think of before ranting about how he wasn't going to lose his job because of a pair of backwoods hicks. He called me a whore and a slut, my face never faltering as it they are just words that I am so used to hearing. Rex, however...

"Take that back, you Capitol fuck!" Rex slammed him up against the wall, showing a mean streak I had never seen before. "She is better than you will ever be!"

"I...bet...sh...she...was!" His retort was like daggers, hitting my heart. He shows a surprising amount of strength as he shoves Rex back. "Get your filthy hands off of me, you peasant! Do you think I'm going to let the likes of you ruin what I've got going on here? I'll go to President Cross myself-"

A sickening smile spread across Rex's face as he cut him off. "And who do you think Iron Cross himself is going to blame for this? The crazy in love teenagers set to die at the hands of twenty-two others or the escort too busy watching Cartalosono kill Mariposa and sleeping to keep us apart? He can't punish us, Synthe...we already are punished. But you...you have more to lose than just your precious job and title. Cross will have your hide!"

His face dropped both in color and to the ground at Rex's words, which made me feel so much better. In a huff, Synthe stormed out of his room, slamming both the bedroom door behind him and the door to our suite, leaving Rex and I alone once more.

He went right to work, wiping the tears that I hadn't noticed had fallen from my eyes and kissed me softly on the lips. "Never let them make you feel like you are nothing and never let them see you cry."

I nodded gently, the tears still flowing. "I won't, Rexy. I won't."

"Come on," he exclaimed, his voice returning to its usual chirpiness. "Maybe we can get something wild for our last breakfast in the Capitol!"

And with that, we were children again, bounding through the high grass behind the slaughterhouses. I could almost feel the wind hitting my face and smell the grass mixing with the smell I would learn later in life as that of butchered animals. I could almost see myself spending the rest of my life just like this, with Rex leading the way.

Almost.

Ashwood Greenley, 17 - District 12 male

Vykktor

Morning Before the Games

I check the clock again. It's half-past one in the morning. Ugh. One would think that out of all the amazing things they could offer a tribute during the stay in the Capitol, one of those things could be sleeping pills, but no. Apparently that is too much to ask for.

I press the button on my bedside table and immediately an avox comes quietly into my room. He looks to be in his mid-twenties and is clearly malnourished. But then again, all of the avoxes are malnourished. The Capitol has no reason to take great care of them, really. A new one can be conjured up in a heartbeat. All they'd need to do is tell the Head Peacekeeper of any of the districts to accuse someone of theft, and boom! Instant slave.

"Please," I say softly. "Help me into my chair." The avox nods silently and walks up to me. As I swing my legs out of my bed, he unfolds my wheelchair. Once the wheelchair is in place, I extend my arm and he grasps my hand firmly. After I'm seated, I excuse the avox. He nods and leaves me alone in my room.

Seeing as I'm awake with no real way to get back to sleep with the beginning Hunger Games being so close, I decide to order some food. I mean, why not? There's probably nothing on TV. I still haven't figured out that stupid computer. The books they leave for you here are… well… they won't put me to sleep, anyway.

So I press a few buttons on the device next to the wall that delivers the food, and the next thing I know, a steaming hot plate of beef stir fry is sitting there, waiting to be eaten. I dig in, eating every little piece of meat, slice of pepper, and chunk of mushroom on the plate. I'm probably going to regret this much so close to the Games, but I don't care. This stuff is amazing.

After I finish off my delicious meal, I wheel my way towards the door. Since food can't do much in the name of entertaining me once it's in my stomach, I decide to take a trip to the roof. Like I said before, it's not like going back to sleep is really an option. As soon as I reach my destination, however, I am buffeted by a blast of cold air. Shivering, I return to my room and retrieve a sweater from the closet then head back upstairs.

Now that I am properly equipped to handle the harsh elements of the roof, I am finally able to appreciate the visual splendor of the Capitol below. All hatred of the Capitol and their cruelty aside, these guys know how to put on a spectacle. There's some sort of celebration in front of the training center with a laser light show going on around a group of performers, set up on an enormous stage. I can see thousands of Capitolites, jumping up and down to the beat of the song playing while laser after laser fires off into the sky.

Oddly enough, I find myself captivated by this interesting display. It almost makes me wish I could be one of them; blissfully unaware of the cruelty happening around me. I'd be free to celebrate the dismemberment of children all I want because that would be quality entertainment for me. There would be no thought of going hungry, no thought of preservation (since everything in the Capitol seems to be endless), and no fear of death. To the people of the Capitol, death is a thing that happens to those who grow old, and those who are destined to entertain through the Hunger Games.

My thoughts are interrupted by a door opening to my left. I steel myself and prepare to get carted off by a Peacekeeper making his nightly rounds, but as I turn to face the newcomer, I see that it is only Catalaia, or Cat, as she prefers to be called.

"Hey," she says nonchalantly.

"Hey," I reply.

"What're you doing up here?" she asks, ambling over towards me. I gesture my head towards the big brouhaha going on in front of the training center.

"Just watching the light show." Cat leans up against the railing to get a better look.

"I see. Looks like quite a party. Bit surprised I didn't hear it inside the training center."

"My guess is that we have soundproof walls to thank for that."

"Seems like a valid idea, yeah." We stand – or rather, she stands while I sit – for a little while, and then she looks around, a little awkwardly. "Do you know if there's anything I can sit on?" she asks. I scan the roof until I see a stack of empty flower pots near the garden. While most of them are pretty tiny, there are a few of them that look to be suitable seats.

"There's a few empty pots over there. If you turn one over, you could probably sit on one." She glances over to where the pots are, then heads over with me following closely behind. She tries to lift one to turn it over, but after a few seconds of struggling, she grunts, frustrated, and sets it down.

"Thing's too darn heavy," she says irritably. "Is there anything else?" I peer around again until my eyes settle on an old, beat-up metal folding chair. I point to it wordlessly and she looks over. "That'll do," she says.

Once we're at the same level, she looks me in the eye and says, "You know, if you weren't stuck in that wheelchair, I'd be asking you for an alliance right now."

Well that was unexpected.

Instead of acting confused, I give her a look that tells her I'm interested (because I am), and she continues. "I mean, I can tell that if it wasn't for that thing, you'd be a force to be reckoned with." I furrow my brow in suspicion.

"What makes you say that about a guy in a wheelchair?" I ask skeptically.

"Well, for one, you're one of the most athletic people here, minus the Careers," she says plainly. "Those calves don't lie." I can't help but chuckle at this.

"You've been observing my calves?" She rolls her eyes.

"Well, yeah, you're in a wheelchair."

"What does that have to do anything?" I exclaim defensively.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," she says, back-tracking. "I mean, like, when someone sees an injured person, they typically look at the injury, right? Like that Metro guy, from District Six. You can't tell me you haven't looked at his arm at least once, can you?" I shake my head.

"Nope. Missing limbs is sort of normal in District Twelve. With all the mining accidents that happen, it's actually pretty normal to see someone without a hand, or a leg, or something else."

"Oh," she says quietly. "Guess I didn't think of that." Her eyes drift towards my legs.

"No, that's not what happened to me." Her head snaps back up.

"I wasn't going to-"

"Yes you were." She hangs her head, resigned.

"Yep, I was." I shrug.

"It's fine. It's not like you're the first one to ask."

"Hey, at least it wasn't in front of all of Panem. Man, Kleon can be dense!"

"Hmph, yeah," I say, nodding my head in agreement. "They targeted my injury right away."

"So, Ashwood, you must've seen this question coming. How did you end up so horribly disfigured? We're just dying for you to illuminate us."

I smile wryly at the pompous freak sitting next to me. "And here I thought I still looked halfway decent." Kleon jumps back in his seat and looks like he's about to faint.

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant at all! Please, forgive me, Ashwood, I really didn't mean-"

I start chuckling and wave my hand dismissively. "I'm joking around, here, Kleon, don't worry."

The announcer breathes a big sigh of relief. "Oh, well, that's good. I truly didn't mean to offend you, it's just that I, as well as the rest of Panem, I'm assuming, are just so curious as to what happened! I mean, is it a birth defect? Injury? What?" he begs, leaning forward in his chair.

And throughout the rest of the interview, Kleon kept pulling the subject back to my injury no matter how many times I'd direct it away. There was no way I could have told the truth of course; stealing is punishable by death.

"Man, they were nosy," Cat comments.

"You can say that again."

"Man, they were nosy," she says, grinning. I roll my eyes.

"You're hilarious."

"I know." Her grin gets wider.

I'm about to make a snide comment when the roof suddenly lights up and I hear a huge explosion. After a brief moment of fear, I realize that the explosion was only a firework bursting over our heads. Thankfully, I notice that Cat had jumped as well, as she still had the remnants of a startled expression. She lets out a nervous laugh.

"Well, that was unexpected."

"Yep," I say, nodding. "I agree." Another firework explodes, lighting up the night sky above us with a beautiful display of shimmering light. I stare at the sky in awe. "Now that is cool." Cat nods and smiles in agreement as another firework booms over our heads. I find myself thinking of the people below us, and can't help but smile at the fact that Cat and I have better seats than anyone down there could possibly imagine.

We sit in silence for a while, watching the amazing display panned out in the sky for all to see, until finally, the show ends and Cat and I are left staring at the smoke trails left behind by spent fireworks. Finally, she looks back at me.

"So, like I was saying, I think you'd make a good alliance member." I look off to the side at the ledge instead of answering. She furrows her brow and follows my gaze. "What?"

I shake my head. "It's nothing," I say. "It's just; I was up here just a few hours ago. Talking with Kristen."

Cat tilts her head to the side slightly. "Your district partner?"

"Yep," I say simply. "Believe it or not, she asked me for an alliance as well."

"…Seriously?" she asks, surprised. "I figured her out to be a bit of a lone wolf type."

"So did I," I say, agreeing. "Can't say I'm not surprised."

"So, she actually for an alliance? She does know you're in a wheelchair, right?" she asks, smiling.

"That's what I was thinking. Why would she want to be in an alliance with someone like me?"

"Maybe she just didn't want to be enemies with everyone in the Games." I look at Cat, puzzled.

"How do you mean?"

She shifts in her seat to face me again. "Well, I'm just saying, my guess is that she wasn't looking for an alliance, just a reason not to kill you. If you're her 'ally'," she says, making quotation marks with her fingers, "She has an excuse not to kill you."

"Because I would definitely last more than five minutes in the Games," I say sarcastically.

"Exactly. My guess is that that was her awkward way of saying, 'I don't want to kill you, so we're going to be allies'," she says, making quotation marks at the word "allies" again. I frown at this last comment.

"Well, let's not put words in her mouth now."

"Hey, that's just what it seems like to me! I don't know her!" she says as she throws her hands up defensively. She looks away from me, towards the ledge. "Maybe that's what I'm looking for," she mutters. "Someone who I know I won't have to kill unless we're the final two." She turns back to me. "Think we could do that? I won't try to kill you if you don't try to kill me?" she smirks, and I smirk back.

"Sure. I'll try not to kill you," I say wryly. "Provided, of course, that you don't try to kill me. 'Cause if you do, all bets are off," I say jokingly. Cat snickers, her smile widening.

"Okay, fine, I won't try to kill you," she whines sarcastically.

Suddenly, the chair Cat is sitting on gives way and collapses, toppling her to the floor. She cries out in surprise, but doesn't seem to be hurt, as she immediately gets up, spins around on one foot, and flourishes her arms while yelling, "Tada!" I applaud her recovery with a slow clap.

"Very nicely done, Ms. Boyd," I say in an official tone. She grins coyly at me.

"Why thank you, Mr. Greenley," she says, echoing my official tone. "Escort me back to my room? The hour is getting quite late," she states, gracefully extending an arm to a dirty old clock. I squint to read the hands and she sighs. "2:45, blind one," she drones.

I nod in agreement. "Yeah, we should probably go to bed." Cat nods, and the two of us move to the elevator. I press the number twelve as she presses the number seven, and soon we're traveling downwards.

It doesn't take long to get to my floor. I mutter a quick "g'night" to Cat and start to wheel my way out of the elevator when a small hand cups my shoulder. I look back to see Cat holding me back with her left hand with an expression of struggle on her face, like she doesn't know exactly what to say. "Yeah?" I ask softly.

She stays silent for a moment, and then takes a deep breath. "That wasn't a joke, back there, was it? About us being semi-allies?" she asks nervously.

"Of course not, Cat. The only reason I would kill you is if you were the only thing standing between me and home. And my guess is that that isn't very likely what with this thing here," I say reassuringly, thumping my fist on the armrest of my wheelchair. She seems relieved by this because she smiles warmly.

"Good," she says happily. She and I stand there (well, she stands, I sit) for a few seconds, and then the unexpected happens. She hesitates for a second, like she's not sure what to do, but then she swoops down and gives me a light peck on the cheek. She smiles a giddier smile than I've ever seen her display and back quickly into the elevator. "Night," she says timidly as the doors close, leaving me to stare at said doors and try to remember what my name was.