A/N: Hey, guys, I have a lot to say this time, but I'll leave most of it till the end. The one important thing that can't wait is this: Katniss isn't a completely truthful narrator. Whatever she's saying is what she's thinking, but it's not necessarily what's true. So if you're reading something and you get all like "HEY. THAT'S NOT TRUE." take a second to consider if Katniss thinks it's true at that moment.
If she doesn't, then I've made a huge mistake. Let me know and I'll fix it.
His family is all around an ornate table, eating dinner. None of them look up when we first walk in, because his mom and dad are busy fighting very loudly, over money, it seems. It's easy to pick up on what's going on with just a little effort; somehow, Cato's winnings are already wearing out and they're debating about what to do, go back to work or borrow some money until next year. The one thing that doesn't seem to be on the table is backing off on the extravagant lifestyle, which is probably the most viable option.
Throughout the argument, Silas and Sophia are silently eating, not looking up from their plates. They look scared. Eventually, Cato clears his throat. "Dad."
"Does it look like we're done talking?"
"Maybe if you'd won how you were supposed to, we wouldn't be having this discussion," his mother chimes in. It doesn't seem smart to point out his victor's salary is exactly what it would've been if he won alone. "Instead, we have to live like paupers," she continues.
"Can I talk to the kids for a sec?" Cato says, ignoring the other part of what she said.
She kind of shrugs, waves him off, and so Cato says, "Hey. Kids. C'mon." They follow us to another room, a living room, I think, with more couches than I've ever seen in one place. It's insane. Cato sits down on one. I sit next to him, and the kids gingerly take seats on one across from us.
"Are we in trouble?" Silas asks. Considering what Cato did to them, I could understand why he'd be scared, but he doesn't sound anything but defiant. Guess that runs in the family.
It's a second before Cato can answer. "No. You're not. No. Why weren't you at the feast?"
"Mom said we didn't deserve to go," Sophia says, looking up at us for the first time, and I can see she's got a broken nose, two black eyes from it, making her blue eyes stand out more than ever in her face.
"What happened to your face?" I ask her.
She shrugs. "Training."
Silas looks at me and shakes his head just a little, and I see that he's got a huge scrape diagonally over his face, across his eyebrow, nose, then cheek. "And you?" I say to him.
"Accident."
In theory, I realize that parents hitting their kids is more common here. I can accept that. Fine. Cultural differences or whatever. But looking at these two, I'm anything but okay with it. I want to hug them, but I don't think they'd ever let me.
"What do you want from us?" Sophia asks sharply, crossing her arms.
"You guys ever wanted to travel?" I say, just on impulse, because anything I wanted to tell them before is outweighed by their injuries and Cato's suggestion of them coming with us. "Like to another district or something. My district?" I say hesitantly.
"Sure," Silas says instantly.
"That's not allowed," Sophia frowns. "But why?"
"Because we thought you might want to come with us. Meet some of the people in district twelve, have fun at the celebration," Cato shrugs. "But if you're scared, we don't have to do it."
Brilliant big-brother manipulation. Sophia straightens up defiantly and says, "I'm not scared. I just don't want to hurt my chances of getting into the games."
"I'll go," Silas says. "If Mom and Dad will let me."
Sophia shoves him and Silas doesn't resist. "What, do you not want to be a tribute?" she asks him sharply. "They're going to kick you out if you get too close to the pathetic-" She breaks off, looking at me. "Sorry," she mumbles.
"It's fine." I'm actually kind of amused by her undisguised disgust for my district. It's a nice change from the frigid civility of everyone else around here. And it's also an interesting look at how Cato might've been before the games, or after them without me. "So is that a no from you?" I say slyly, because I'm a big sister and I know how this works.
"No. I'll go," she says, defiant. Only special people get to travel to other districts, and she can't resist that allure. "But only if you get Mom and Dad to agree to it."
Cato looks at me for a long moment. "You really want to do this?"
"Sure. Won't hurt anything." I shrug.
He looks at his siblings sternly. "If you're coming then there's rules," he says. "Don't talk to any reporters unless I say you can, and don't tell them anything except what I say you can. Don't make fun of anyone in twelve. Got it?"
They both nod hastily, and maybe it's just me, but they seem more scared of him than before. Probably some combination of truth and my perception.
"Okay. Go pack a bag," he says, and they disappear through a doorway towards the back of the apartment, towards the bedrooms.
"How are you going to convince your parents?" I ask him
"Haven't thought that far."
I raise my eyebrows. "Okay then. Good luck. I'll be right there with you." I almost don't say anything else, but then I decide I really do want to know. "Is this because you feel guilty?"
He doesn't ask what about. "Not completely." He stands up, offers me his hand, and I get up too. "Don't say anything to them. They'll just get pissed and say no."
"Gotcha."
We walk back into the dining room, where his parents are eating in a very strained silence, glaring at each other across the table laden with more food than most people in my district have in a year.
"I want to take the kids with me on the tour," Cato says, holding more tightly to my hand.
"Absolutely not. Some of that weakness will… rub off on them," his mother says with a sneer. "Besides, it'll hurt their chances of getting in the games; they'll be targets."
"They don't need to get in the games," Cato says firmly. "I won. They don't have to."
"What, you think this is enough?" she snorts. "You think we don't need someone to erase the shame you've brought on our family?"
Cato doesn't try to argue that point. "How many victors do you want from us?"
That sets both of them off; his father starts yelling about respect, and his mom scoffs at the idea that Cato's win might ever be enough for them. Just listening to them, I step back, hold myself motionless in instinctual fear. They're ruthless. It explains a lot of how he is; his stillness, his carefulness with me, and his shame at everything he was before. Anybody would feel like shit about themselves if they grew up with them.
Cato doesn't argue with them, not even a word to try to stop them. He lets them talk themselves out, then finally says loudly, "Just for a week. It'll…" He glances at me apologetically, just out of the corner of his eye. "It'll give them an advantage if they get to see their competition early."
Because the only way to convince them to let their kids have fun is to say it'll make them better killers. I really don't like the way things work here, but I bite the inside of my cheek and stay silent while his parents and him argue with each other more.
Finally, they agree to one week. When they say that, Cato doesn't bother with any more conversation with them; he leaves midsentence and walks away, coming back shortly with the kids in tow, both of them holding small-ish duffle bags. "See you in a week," he mutters over his shoulder at his parents, and we all get into the elevator.
"You've done everything right," I say quietly to him. "Just… everything." After that little display of his family, I can't help but want to reaffirm him, make him feel better.
Cato nods once, leans down and hugs me tightly, quickly. "Thanks," he mutters into my hair, and straightens back up again.
His siblings are both looking at the two of us like we're crazy, very uncomfortable. I guess they're not used to people supporting each other. They keep their distance from both of us at first, but soon, Silas takes my hand again, like last time we walked together. He's quiet and calm, but his hand around mine is tight, and he keeps me between him and Cato. And Sophia doesn't come anywhere near the rest of us.
"Let me explain this to Haymitch,' I say preemptively when we're near the train station. "I'll get him okay with this."
"Sure," Cato says. "Since I'm still not sure if he likes me or not."
"He likes you," I say, but I'm not convincing at all; all three siblings give me the exact same skeptical look. "Okay, fine, maybe he doesn't like you, but he doesn't dislike you."
"That's not… okay," Cato smiles a bit and doesn't argue.
I lead the way into the train car. Haymitch is sprawled in a chair, holding a bottle that's resting on his stomach, and watching footage of the ceremony we were just in. "Hey, sweetheart, I've been looking at what happened more, and I've decided we've gotta play up this protective thing. He jumped on that guy's ass for you, and that-" He stops when he sees the two little kids with us. "The hell are they doing here?"
"They're coming back to district twelve with us," I begin, and immediately, he shakes his head. "Haymitch, just listen to me for a second," I say, attempting to be convincing, but he's not buying it.
"We can't be carting around careers with us, Katniss. Even baby ones," he says.
"I'm not a baby," Sophia mutters.
"Even young ones, then," he corrects himself, giving her an exasperated glare that I recognize too well.
"It's just for a week, and we'll keep an eye on them," I say.
Haymitch considers. "Just a week?"
"One week."
"No funny business?"
"None," I promise, desperately hoping that's not going to be wrong.
"Okay," he agrees abruptly. "Fine."
"Really?" That was easy.
"Sure. It's not like I have any actual power over you two anymore," he says nonchalantly.
"Are you serious?"
"Yep. You're victors, too. I doubt you even really have to listen to your parents, if you wanted to push the issue."
I glare at Haymitch. "And why didn't you tell us that before why?"
He shrugs. "It was fun to watch you squirm. You're really not very convincing. Why didn't you stop her?" he asks Cato.
"She wanted to convince you," Cato shrugs. "Alright, this is Silas and Sophia. Got it?"
"Got it. Only one rule here. Stay away from my drinks." He takes another swig. "Take them away, get their stuff unpacked or whatever."
"Why did we have to pack, anyways?" Sophia says. "We can just get clothes there."
"No, you can't. We don't have closets like that in twelve," I say.
Haymitch laughs. "This'll be fun," he says, then leaves the train car, shuffling unsteadily into his own quarters with his bottle of alcohol.
"I'm gonna change," I say.
"You two, c'mon," Cato says, and he reaches out for Silas, who cringes into me, then realizes what he's doing and stands straight, letting go of my hand and following Cato obediently.
"What are we doing?" Silas asks, trying to sound steady.
"We'll change clothes," Cato says, looking over at me with guilt plainly written on his face.
I don't know how to tell him it's going to be okay, so I escape to my bedroom and put on clothes that don't require application with glue. I wipe off my makeup, pull out the pins in my hair so it falls down around my shoulders. The copper and green fabric both are hard to get off, so I throw on just a tank-top because it's easier to get clean off my sides and chest when I don't have to worry about anyone walking in on me shirtless.
I spend about five minutes peeling off fabric and chips of copper. Then there's a knock on the door. "Come in," I say, not moving from the mirror. Sophia walks in, looking at me suspiciously. "Need something?"
"Cato was just worried about you. Wanted me to check. What's on your neck?" she asks curiously, coming closer up behind me.
"Cinna thought of this to make it look like the dress was growing out of me or something. But it's hell to get off," I say, scraping at my collarbone.
"You're supposed to get it wet first."
I look at her in the mirror. "How do you know that?"
She shrugs. "They use that glue a lot around here."
"Want to help me?" I suggest, because I want to get a little closer to her. It only seems appropriate since I'm in love with her brother.
Sophia nods shyly, and she's brave enough to smile at me for a second. She takes a washcloth and soaks it, drapes it over the side of my neck for a moment, then scrubs it off. The copper leaf comes away easily.
She repeats that strategy several times around my neck, getting all the copper, then gets the fabric down near the top of my tank top. I put my head down so she can clean off the back of my neck, then lift up my shirt so she can help with my sides. Finally, I'm mostly normal looking, not like a weird radiant figure.
"Thanks for the help," I say. "That would've taken me forever."
She nods, pressing her lips together tightly so she doesn't smile, and somehow, her trying not to like me is adorable. "Is the tour fun?" she asks.
"Yeah, it's pretty cool. I don't know if it was worth being in the games, though."
That part doesn't make sense to her, I can tell, but she doesn't say anything. We go out into the main room, where Cato's on the couch and Silas is looking out the window, far from him. I see him glance at his brother for a second, worried and guilty, and then he looks up at me. "You're okay?" he checks, slightly paranoid.
"Yeah, just had a lot of makeup crap to get off." I sit next to him folding my legs underneath me so I can lean into him. He puts his arm over me, and I curl my fingers around his. "What do you kids want to do?" I ask them, because they're standing around looking nervous.
"Watch the games," Sophia says. She tries to sound calm, but it's really a question.
Cato turns on the TV, throws his sister the remote without a word to her. I'd almost be worried that it'll hit her in the head, but Sophia catches it, barely looking up, and changes channels until she finds review footage of our games, video of me running to a tree and climbing up into it.
"C'mere," I say to Silas, because he's watching from behind us, quiet and still. "Come on, sit down." It takes him forever to walk around the couch to me, and then he hesitates before he sits next to me, and he keeps some space between the two of us. He's trying not to be scared of me, I can see it in how he's motionless, like Cato gets. Same with Sophia on the other side of Cato, who stays well out of reach.
I'm not going to push it. The worst thing to do to someone who's convinced you're going to hurt them is to force them close to you. After several minutes, though, he relaxes a little bit. The train starts moving, with a small initial jolt that smooths out quickly, and he falls into me for a second. Immediately, he stiffens, and tries to sit up, but I let go of Cato's hand to put my arm around him.
"It's okay, calm down," I say, helping him sit back up, but after a moment, he voluntarily leans back into my shoulder, scooting closer to me. He stays there as we watch what happened on the games, Cato climbing up the tree to get to me and falling.
Sophia snorts derisively at that, and I look over at her in time to catch her looking at Cato in a scared way. But Cato doesn't get pissed at her for mocking him, even though I know he definitely would've before. Instead, he slowly puts his arm around her in a big brotherly way. The next time I look at them, she's in his lap, his arm safely around her waist.
I get up to get food, ask them if they want something. There's a really long pause before any answers; I look back at them to see what the deal is. The kids are baffled. "Um, no," Sophia says, looking very confused.
"No," Silas says, following her lead.
I don't push the issue, but I do privately connect a few more dots. They're not used to eating a lot. There's a reason why they're so thin. That doesn't stop me from enjoying my stew, though; I take it back to the couch, holding it away from me while Cato and Silas get re-situated around me, then continue stuffing my mouth.
The train ride back to my district is long; it's going to take most of the night, so none of us are in a hurry to get to bed. It's barely dark when I notice Silas is asleep on me, though, and when I look over to Sophia again, I see she's out, too. "You go to sleep early in 2?" I ask Cato quietly.
"No. They're probably really tired. The trainers have been hard on them because of me. Haven't gotten a lot of sleep in the past few weeks."
He feels terrible about it. "It's not your fault. You weren't yourself," I tell him.
"Yeah, well… at least they feel safe enough to sleep now," he says.
"What do you mean by that?"
"They're taught not to sleep around people they don't trust. Around most people in general, actually. It's built in. So I guess they forgive me a little."
"Wait, was that built into you?"
"Yeah. Why?"
I can't tell him what I'm really thinking, how taken aback I am that he's been overriding his programming every time he gets in bed with me and he never let on. So I say, "No reason. Think they'll enjoy my district?"
It's a very obvious subject change, but he goes with it. "Silas will. He loves you. He'll do whatever you do. And Sophia will be fine. She likes the bragging rights, at least."
I nod. "So why'd you really want them to come? It's not for the tourism."
"Maybe if they spend some time with your… people, they'll turn out… better. Less crazy."
"You did okay."
He shrugs, looks down. "You think so. But that's…" He shrugs again.
"You're a good person," I say insistently. "Maybe you weren't before, but you are now."
"Yeah, well I don't think the odds of them finding someone like you on their own, like I did, are really in their favor," he says, and I have to admit that he's got a point.
"They'll be okay. You're looking out for them."
"For how much longer, though. Next time I forget, I'm going to do exactly the same thing. And there's no chance that they'll just not do it or something, because they're going to try again. Snow won't let us just stay together."
"Why not?"
"Because you're too inspiring. And although he can probably handle us apart, he definitely can't if we're together. Cuz we do things like this." He looks down at his sister in his arms.
"Oh."
After a moment of silence, he hands me something. "Here." It's the chain from around his neck with his dog tags and key on it, the one he gave to me when he left before. Except this time, there's something else on it, a black stick the size of my thumb. "It's the video. In case I forget. It'll fit into anything with a screen."
"Thanks." I start to unclasp the chain, so I can slip off the video thing, but he stops me.
"No, just take the whole thing," he says.
I hesitate for half a second, because this feels like a commitment; it's not just a necklace. It's not just me choosing to put it on or put it in my pocket. And if I put it on, it'll mean more than just a fashion choice. My commitment to him is determined by this, even if he doesn't think about it like that.
I put it on, lean up and kiss him on the cheek. "I hope you don't need this."
"Yeah." He doesn't say anything more than that, and I don't want to fight about something that's out of both of our control, so I don't say anything either.
Since the kids are asleep, we change the channel, changing to coverage of us now. The more we know about what people think, the better chance we'll have of handling Snow. I get distracted, though, because Silas is the cutest thing ever when he sleeps.
He slips down into my lap. I lift his head up to put a pillow under it, and he jerks awake when I touch his shoulder. "Hey, hey, it's just me," I say softly, drawing back, because I don't want to scare him.
"Oh," he says, and relaxes again, laying his head down on the pillow. Tentatively, I put my hand on the side of his head, stroke his hair. It's longer and softer than Cato's, and he gives in more readily to me taking care of him, but I guess all of that can be attributed to his age. He's just a kid – a tough deadly kid, but a kid.
He's asleep again within a minute, curled up on his side. Once I'm sure he won't hear, I ask Cato, "Did I do something that woke him up?"
"Nothing specific."
"Then why'd he look so scared?"
He clenches his jaw. "I don't know."
"That's not true."
"You don't want to know what's true."
"Tell me." Now my curiosity's piqued, and the cold feeling in the bottom of my stomach tells me it's bad. Very bad. I need to know.
"The scrape on his arm isn't it," he mutters reluctantly. "Okay?"
The feeling in my gut gets stronger, stops my heart for a second. "No," I say accidentally.
"Yeah." Cato reaches out for Silas, nudges his head so he half-wakes up. "Take off your jacket," he says roughly.
Silas doesn't argue; he just obeys, then curls into me again, putting his hand under the pillow and holding onto my leg. He's closer to me than before and cringing away like he expects someone to hurt him. And I put my arm around him gently, to protect him, but my hand's shaking now, because I can see both of his thin arms, the dark bruises on them.
There's five marks on his upper arm in a clear pattern, from a big hand grabbing him tightly, more scrapes on the underside of his arms like the one on his face, and tiny scabs that look similar to the ones on Cato's arms.
Somehow, it's more terrible to see these things on him, because he's younger. I have to clear my throat a couple times before I can talk. "What does this have to do with me waking him up?"
"His shoulder is hurt. You probably accidentally touched it," he says shortly, and I hate myself for not realizing that myself and making him say that.
"Your mom did this to him?"
"And Dad. And probably some of it happened during training."
"Damn."
"Most of the kids from home look like this. Sophia does, too."
"That doesn't make it okay." I continue to pet Silas' hair. "Part of me wants to kidnap them, but I know that isn't a good idea. And that doesn't help the rest of them," I say, half to myself. Cato doesn't say anything, but his arm around me gets tighter.
Sophia and Silas both continue to sleep for several more hours. Sophia wakes up when Cato shifts her in his arms, and even she can't fake wanting to stay awake; she goes back to sleep leaning against her brother, somehow still looking vigilant with her eyes shut. Silas isn't quite as brainwashed as her; he sleeps heavily, completely unconscious.
His trust in me is flattering, really, and I discover that he evokes the same feelings in me that Prim does; protectiveness, affection, love. And that's weird, because I've known dozens of kids in that age range that didn't make me feel like this. There's something special about him, I guess.
"Is he hurt badly?" I ask after a while.
"I don't know. Do you want to check?"
"What do you mean?"
"Silas," he says sharply. Sophia shifts in her sleep, but Silas wakes up right away, standing up and taking several steps back from the couch, trying to keep his eyes open. His shoulders are hunched, he's standing in a vaguely military position, scared out of his mind.
I'm seriously concerned that about this, but Cato doesn't seem to be. "Inspection," he says, and Silas takes off his shirt and pants, dropping them on the floor and standing there in his underwear, still half-asleep.
"Why'd-"
Cato cuts me off. "You can check now," he says. And although I do think he did this partly to give me what I wanted, because he does that a lot, I also think he's trying to show off in a strange, morbid way. Almost like maybe he wants me to see how sick it gets, to see exactly how much I mean what I'm saying about forgiving him, giving him slack.
I'm not going to just leave Silas there, so I say, "Honey, c'mere," I reach out for him and pretend not to notice how he flinches away from me, unsure who I am or what I want. It's not hard to pretend, anyways, because he's got dark bruises all over his entire body that make me want to kill whoever did this to him. "C'mon, Silas," I say again, and I take him by the hand, pull him closer.
I turn him around to look at his back, where I touched him when he woke up. No wonder he flinched – somebody whipped him, hard enough to leave scars like the ones on Cato's back when they heal. And this happened recently, they're scabbed and angry looking, horizontal fiery stripes that descend his back and spill over onto his thighs. And the bruises, all the bruises over his delicate, pale skin. I hate it.
"You can… put your clothes on," I say awkwardly, and he obeys without a word. "I'm sorry, you can go back to sleep," I say, looking at him and hoping he can tell I'd never hurt him.
Slowly, he comes back towards me, gets on the couch and looks at me with wide, solemn eyes. "Who did that to you?" I say to him.
Cato is very definitely not looking at either of us, apparently caught up in the television now. Silas glances at him before answering. "I'm okay."
"That wasn't the question."
"The trainers. A couple of them are Peacekeepers."
"Why?"
"I wasn't strong enough."
That breaks my heart. "Don't listen to them," I say, swallowing hard. "You're perfect."
Silas just looks at me. He doesn't say a word, but when I put my arm out to him, the pillow back in my lap, he comes straight to me and hugs me. Eventually, he makes his way to my lap, moving the pillow over my chest, and curls into it, arms and legs wrapped around me like a baby.
I fold my hands over his back securely. I'd be worried about hurting him, but Cato pulls a soft blanket off the back of the couch and puts it between my arms and his brother's back. "I'm glad you won," Silas says, his voice muffled.
"Thank you," I say, and hold him tightly until his breathing evens out again and he's asleep again. I'm more conscious of my own breathing rhythm, with the weight of him on my chest, and I try to make it slow and steady, because the kid is strangely in tune with me.
I catch Cato looking at me and his brother together. I see his face tighten in a kind of sadness, or something like that, and I don't understand, so I say, "What was that?"
"Nobody at home knows what to do with him. I don't. But you do, just… instantly," he says, slightly amused. "You're awesome."
"Stop." I make a face. "He's a kid. I'm just treating him like one."
But he shakes his head. "No, that's not it. He doesn't let anyone touch him at home. He barely talks."
"Maybe that's because talking gets him beaten. Not that I'm blaming you," I add, because it'd be just like him to assume I think this is his fault.
"Yeah, well, maybe you should."
"Stop," I repeat, because he shouldn't beat himself up like this. "This isn't about you."
"What, because what I did before doesn't count?" He sounds sarcastic. "Yeah. Right."
"No, because you the way you are isn't the same as you the way you were."
"Right. That makes sense."
"Cato, please. Stop it. I love you. They love you. Everything's going to be okay. At least for the next week," I say. Pointless optimism doesn't go far with him.
"Sure," he sighs. "Come here." I turn to look at him and he lightly kisses me. "I like you."
"I'm kinda fond of you, too," I smile.
Eventually, both of us get sleepy, too. I don't want to let go of Silas and Cato won't let go of Sophia, so we take pillows and blankets from our beds out onto the floor. The two of us end up on our sides with the kids in between us.
I put Silas against my stomach, my arm over him, like Cato did to me before, and Cato holds his sister similarly. Our hands find each other in the middle. I lift my head up for a second to catch his eye over the two kids. We share a smile, and then we both fall asleep.
As usual, I wake up with a nightmare, but not screaming, and somehow, holding Silas against me is better than all the comforting Cato's done. I'm able to hold tighter to Cato's hand, squeeze closer to Silas, and go back to sleep. And the best night of sleep I've had turns out to be on the floor, without fancy sheets or down mattresses.
I wake up completely a few hours later. Instinctively, I close my hand and realize there's no hand in mine, just air. Silas is still next to me, sleeping like a baby, but Sophia's gone, so I guess the two of them are awake. I move my hand up to his hair, smooth it down again before he wakes up.
"Hey, Katniss," Cato says, walking up behind me and standing over me. "We're in twelve."
"Oh." I sigh. "I don't want to get up, though."
"Okay." He sits down next to me, behind me, and after a second, he touches my hair. I like it, I have to admit, so I don't say anything when he tugs my hair free of its braid and unbraids it, then combs his fingers through the ends.
"What are you doing?" I ask curiously, not moving.
"I don't know anybody with hair like yours," he says, then adds, "Well. Maybe Clove. But she'd never let me do this. And I'd never want to."
I never know what to do when he starts talking about Clove, so I don't say anything about it. "Do you know you're being sweet right now?"
"Sorta." He keeps combing through my hair with his fingers, tugging gently at my scalp, and it feels good, like when Mom braids my hair.
"Where's Sophia?" I ask.
"Eating. Getting dressed. What you should be doing."
"Alright!" I sit up, flipping my hair over my shoulder and rubbing my knuckles in my eyes. "How long have you been up?"
"A couple hours. No nightmares?"
"A few. I was fine."
Next to me, Silas wakes up, eyes flying to me, and then he calms down. "Are we there?" he asks the two of us.
"Yep," Cato says. "Go get dressed for the celebration. And eat something. Please."
Both Silas and I look at him, slightly confused, because that's not something Cato says. "Okay," Silas says hesitantly, and he gets up and walks away.
"So is it just you? Or do they do whatever anybody says," I whisper to Cato.
"Authority figures from the district in general. Probably you, too, if you tried it." We both know I never will, but we don't say that.
Haymitch walks into the car. "Ooooh, sleepover," he says with faked enthusiasm. "Gross. While the kids were here?"
"Haymitch, stop." I glare. "What do you want?"
"Cinna's coming in soon. This is your warning. Hey," he says cheerfully, waving to the two kids who have appeared in Cato's doorway, looking at him suspiciously. "You're about to be dressed. Might want to get off the floor," he says to me, and then leaves.
Cato stands up and pulls me up off the floor, just before Cinna walks in. "What'll I be wearing today?" I ask him without preface.
"Nothing too ornate," Cinna says with a smile. "These people already love you. And we don't want to make them think you're being changed."
He shows us our outfits; they look almost like traditional clothes from twelve. Cato's in a crisp, white dress shirt and grey pants – no jeweled cufflinks or detailed patterns. And my dress is eerily similar to the blue dress I wore to my reaping, just made from softer, more vibrant fabric and cut to fit me exactly.
My team has barely any work to do; Flavius braids my hair exactly the way my mother did it, the other two brush a little basic makeup over my face, and we're done. Cato doesn't have to have anything done at all, so when I'm done, we're ready to go out.
"Follow us with the rest of everybody else," Cato tells his siblings. "They'll seat you with friends. Be nice to everyone. And stay by Haymitch until then, alright?"
Both kids nod seriously. Venia threw a little concealer on the darkest of their bruises and cuts, so they look significantly less battered than before. Before we go outside, I look down at Silas. "You're gonna like it here," I say.
He doesn't say anything positive or negative, and that makes sense, I guess, because he's terrified of being hurt. I reach out to him, encircle his head with my arm and draw him close against my side. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you," I say quietly, so no one else can hear it. "Anything happens that you're uncomfortable with, you come find me, okay?"
"Okay," he says. I let him go, but he stays close beside me.
"Can somebody take their duffle bags?" Cato says.
Haymitch gives him a thumbs up. "Sure, kid. Go."
So we go. The kids follow us out the door, Sophia looking disgusted at Cato's and my interlocked hands and Silas sticking close to me like a shadow. There are people waiting for us, my family and Gale, and I hug each of them, first my mother, then Prim. "Prim, this is Sophia," I introduce them. "Cato's sister."
"Hi, I'm Primrose," Prim introduces herself. And although Sophia is looking at her suspiciously, with the slightest hint of contempt, I don't think she'll be able to resist Prim's persistent kindness for long.
Then I hug Gale, holding him close and letting myself be relieved for just a second, because here's someone who's relationship with me is uncomplicated and unbreakable. "Are you doing okay?" he asks me. I know he's been watching the tour, and I'm sure he could see the pain in me everyone else missed.
"Yeah, I am. He's back to being himself," I say, pointing at Cato. "So that's… good. Um, hey, Gale," I say, because it occurs to me that I might have a match made in heaven here. "Gale, this is Silas," I say, putting my arm around Silas. "Cato's little brother. Can you keep him close to you while I'm busy? Don't touch his back," I whisper.
"Sure," Gale nods, and he examines Silas, looking at him with those eagle eyes of his. He reaches out and touches his the concealed scrape across his face, and Silas doesn't move, looking at Gale seriously. "What happened to you?" he asks softly.
"Accident," Silas says.
I'm watching this whole encounter very closely, to make sure Gale doesn't do something that might scare Silas. I mean, Gale's not an idiot, but he is a tall, relatively strong man who could definitely hurt Silas like the other men he's known, and it'd be so easy for him to do something completely wrong and not even know it.
But he doesn't. Gale's quiet and slow right now, like when he's approaching a wild animal, and Silas isn't running away. "You training for the games?" he asks.
"Yeah," Silas says, very aware that it may be a bad thing.
For once, Gale doesn't break into an anti-Capitol rant. "Wow," he says. "So what, you know a hundred ways to kill me right now?" he jokes, and I recognize his tone. His reliable big brother instincts are kicking in, and he's doing great.
I leave them alone for a second, look over at Cato to make sure he's doing okay. Prim's hugging him, him lifting her off the ground and Sophia watching closely, possibly jealous. As I watch, my mother says something to Sophia, looking at her nose, and Sophia doesn't answer. I'm pretty sure she expects my mom to be like hers, but that's not true. Haymitch is standing a little back from them, watching the whole thing gruffly.
So I look back to Silas and Gale. Silas is up on Gale's back, holding on around his neck, looking very surprised. Gale's very pleased with himself. "Where'd this one come from?" he asks me. "He's awesome." Silas smiles bashfully.
"Hey. They're all awesome," I say, clearly aware the two of them don't agree with me, though for very different reasons. "So do we have a presentation to get to, or what?"
"Oh, yeah. C'mon."
A/N: ALRIGHT. Here's the situation. (Your parents went away on a week's vacation. They left the keys to the big red Porsche) No really.
So, the lovely caisha702 sent me a message to let me know that someone was posting this fic on the website wattpad, which I hadn't heard about until today. Turns out, caisha knew because her own fic was also plagiarized, and having discovered that, she turned into an awesomely good Samaritan and let me know. My immediate reaction was rage. This person, EndraChaos, had posted 17 chapters without my permission, directly copying and pasting them aside from the author's notes. She was claiming to have written it. The story won an award. Thousands of reads. Hundreds of comments. A trailer, fan art, and stories based on it. None of them mentioned me.
Like I said. Fury.
Charlie and my sister got involved then. My sister comforted me so my hands stopped shaking. Charlie went to war. She's the best general a commander in chief could ask for; her first reaction was to go to four major One Direction fanfiction writers on tumblr with whom she had personal connections and get them to make posts to their crazy insane followers. Apparently, 1D fans are a protective bunch, because the other version of my fic got taken down within two hours from so much reporting.
EndraChaos deleted her account shortly after, apparently very distressed. She commented saying that she was mad because all of her "time and work" was destroyed. I leave the verity of that up to your judgment.
Here's where I started feeling like a chess grandmaster, or maybe a genius. I created a wattpad account with her old username and set up a story so it would have a redirect message to this version on here, and on the profile put a warning for other fanfiction writers/readers, as well as suggestions of how to get in touch with the true authors of the fanfics.
Within minutes, people were saying I hacked her page. Then Endra herself contacted me, asking for her url back and claiming she only did it because she loved my fanfiction so much. One user made a passionate plea for the fic to be continued on wattpad, since they couldn't get to for some reason.
I had a good half-hour long conversation with Endra, trying to figure out what exactly she thought was going on and why she did it. It seems to be some combination of "everyone else was doing it" and "I loved it so much I wanted it to be mine." Also, she's younger than 15, so I'm cutting her some slack here. Endra has her username back, and I allowed her to put the story back up as long as it was dedicated to me and gave credit to me for writing it. I gently turned down her proposal that she "spice it up" with new characters and plot twists, and I made my own personal account to keep an eye on her behavior. So far, so good. No hard feelings and I'm going to forgive and mostly forget.
So. No action needs to be taken, but I thought you guys should know. If you want to repost this somewhere else, please do it, but GIVE ME CREDIT. I am not being greedy. I am protecting my copyrighted material that I've spent months writing, thinking, and actually dreaming about (which made me feel super pathetic). I'd love to reach a wider audience, but I need to be known as the author. I thought that went without saying, but now I'm going to say it just to be safe.
I love you all. You're all awesome fans. I think this was just a misstep.