Song Suggestion: Bastille- "Requiem for Blue Jeans" (A Lana Del Rey/ Requiem for a Dream mix up). So fucking hot.

A/N: Sorry about the extra week wait. Both my kids got a stomach bug, and then gave it to me. Over Thanksgiving. Out of all the days to get it, right?

Thank You: Outside. the .districts (Rachel), katnisseverdeendistrict12, 3vlee, SweetStarre123, Bea0407, HeyBirdy, callofdutygirl13, and three guests. (One guest said I deserved a llama. It made me smile.)

100th Review: I forgot to put this in the last chapter. But OMG I HAVE OVER 100 REVIEWS! I think the honor of the official 100th review goes to Rachel. You get a virtual hug.

Just in Case

They went to pick up Coral after training was done. Prim felt bad about leaving her with that awful woman, but she had been treated better than Prim had, and there were other children there. She needed to be around other children, needed socialization. Prim couldn't be Coral's everything, as much as she wished she could.

Cato sent Prim on ahead after getting stopped by some official. Manniola stood at the doorway, holding Coral's hand.

When Coral saw her, she ran up to Prim and wrapped her arms around her legs. Prim bent down and picked her up. Coral's little legs bound around her waist, and she laid her head on Prim's shoulder.

"Bye bye, Mrs. Manniola." Coral said with her head pressed into Prim's clothes, making the sound muffled.

Mrs. Manniola gave Prim a polite smile, which seethed. Something glittered in her eyes, as if she was planning her death.

"Bye Coral, dear. Remember our most important lesson."

"I will."

"And what's that?" The sarcasm in Prim's voice could drown a ship with its weight. "I'm sure its importance is earth-shattering."

"How to attract a man. It would have been just another thing you'd fail at."

The woman was not talking about the Miss Manners Class.

"And you're teaching a four-year-old that?"

What was wrong with this place and its people?

"A most basic version, of course. It would still be hard for you to grasp."

Cato came into view. The man he talked to walked beside him. They parted ways, saying polite goodbyes. He came behind Prim, placing his hand on the small of her back.

"Let's go," he said. But both the women ignored him.

Prim couldn't help herself. Not around this woman. She smiled.

"I seem to be doing fine so far."

She reached for his hand, while cradling Coral with her other side, intertwining their fingers. She tried to ignore the shock of voluntary contact. Prim and Cato both glanced towards each other in surprise. She wanted to tell him it wasn't like that. It was spite.

But his face was soft. His eyes rounded and dark.

Again, Prim regretted her actions.

But for a moment, when she saw Ms. Manniola's expression, it was all worth it.

Ten minutes Later

The night welcomed them when they exited the building.

Cato began drinking in the car. The amber liquid flowed from the decanter to the tumbler to his lips in a methodical choreographed play, as if this was a dance he perfected.

By the time they turned down the winding road towards his home, his cheeks bloomed red, and his eyes hung heavy. When he spoke, his speech slurred.

"Is she awake?"

Prim took a peek at Coral. She was in her arms curled up on her lap. Her eyes were shut, and her breath came in and out evenly.

"Yes." Prim brushed the little girl's curls out of her face, trying to smooth them to her head. It was no use. The hair disobeyed orders and sprung back into place.

"Do you wish she was yours?" Cato asked.

It surprised her. She wasn't sure how to respond.

"Do you wish she wasn't?"

He certainly didn't seem to care.

Cato sighed, glancing out the window.

"I try my hardest not to love her." He took a swig of his drink and grimaced. "What would be the point, you know?"

Cato looked back at Coral, as if she would disintegrate into dust at any moment. Prim wanted to sneer. What did he have to worry about? She couldn't help but think of all the mothers in District 12 getting their children ready on reaping day to meet with death. How they straightened their ties, brushed their hair, smelled their heads as if to memorize their scent, just in case. District 2 had lethal substitutes for their children.

"I'm sure she's in no danger."

He glanced side-ways at her. It reminded her of the looks he used to give her: cold and hard. The anger broke in waves against her skin, making the prickles on her arm stand on end.

"No danger? Her first breath decided her fate. What does the Capitol like more than a child of a victor? I'm a victor that's killed victors. They'll find a way to put her in, they always do. She'll be gold for ratings."

The car pulled to a stop, preventing any reaction. Cato opened the door and walked out. She expected him to stumble with the amount he drank, but he walked fine.

Prim struggled getting out with a thirty-something pound child in tow. Cato gripped her arm. She stopped, thinking he had already walked inside.

"I'll carry her," He said.

Prim clutched Coral to her heart as if to protect her.

"I've got it."

Cato reached down and grabbed the unconscious little girl, plucking her from Prim's arms and cradling her gently against his chest. Coral snuggled into him subconsciously. Prim attempted to take the girl back out of his arms. When did he deserve to hold her, touch her?

He shoved her off.

"In the end, she's mine, as much as you'd wish otherwise."

"But—"

Cato stared straight into Prim's eyes.

"I said I try not to love her."

He turned on his heel and disappeared into the house. The windows allowed her to see him carrying her up the stairs and steal one lingering kiss on her forehead before he stepped out of view.

It was if he was memorizing her scent, just in case.

The Next Morning

The next day Cato dragged her out of bed, ripping the covers off her body, exposing her to the chilly morning.

"Why are you so cruel?" She shivered, curling into a fetal position for warmth.

She was serious, but he must have thought she was joking for he laughed.

"Why is the sun warm, little bird? It's just the way it is. Now get up."

She groaned. From what she noticed, Cato was a morning person—a type of person she didn't understand.

"Why?" She talked into her pillow. It muffled the sound.

"You have training."

She groaned again, knowing it meant Miss Manners class.

"I thought I told you I'm not going back to that cow. She was mean, and I don't like her."

Cato slipped into the bed beside her. He gripped her shoulders and flipped her on her back. The two of them barely fit on the twin bed. Prim glanced over at Coral's bed; it was empty. Coral had the same habit of waking up early in a good mood as her father. There was no telling where she was.

"I'm sorry. I really am, but she's the best. I know you think this is pointless, but it has its purpose. I'm only forcing you for your own benefit. My district can be crueler than me at the best of times. I don't want to see you picked apart."

Prim turned her body until she faced him. She didn't realize how intimate the pose was, until she looked up into his eyes. His hands, once on her shoulders, wandered. They slipped closer to the center of her back and slowly down, tracing the indention of her spine. Prim found she couldn't speak, and she knew instinctively that if she tried to move he'd take it as a chase.

"You're an extension of me," Cato continued. "Your ignorance of my culture isn't your fault, but it's not an excuse, and the Captiol is unforgiving. As soon as I took you as my Manato, every man wanted to steal you, and every woman wanted to flay you. This is not meant to be a punishment; I'm trying to prepare you."

His belief in his own grandeur was unsurprising. It was said with absolute belief. She withheld her snort. Prim doubted every man wanted to steal her. Though if every woman resembled Mrs. Manniola, they might all have the desire to flay someone.

"I got you something," Cato said before she could respond. The abrupt change in conversation disconcerted her. He pulled out a small silver bracelet from his pocket. Intricate swirls were etched into the hard surface. Prim didn't hold her arm out, so he grabbed it and slapped it on her wrist. It adjusted by itself, tightening against her skin.

"What just happened?"

Cato shrugged.

"All Capitol jewelry adjusts by itself."

Prim wasn't sure she believed him, but she decided not to fight him on it. Besides, it was just a stupid bracelet.

"I'm not going," Prim rubbed her wrist, getting back to the subject that mattered, attempting to put her voice in somewhere. Sometimes she felt lost. "I'll go to the Club to shoot my bow, but I'm not wasting my time."

Cato smirked, the side of his lips tilting up as if in amusement.

"Have you forgotten yesterday's lesson already? You're pounding on a brick wall. The resistance will only hurt you." After a moment of thought, his eyes began to glitter. Glittering eyes were never something good on Cato. "On second thought, your right, I should give you choices."

"You will?" She was wary.

His fingers began to trace her spine again, but this time they slipped under the edge of her shirt and touched bare skin. He curled his fingers, brushing them like a feather across her nerves, up up, then down. She tried to ignore the shivers they invoked.

"Yes, I'll give you two." He leaned down and touched their noses together. She wished she could look elsewhere, but his nearness cut off all outlets. "You can either go to training like a good little girl, or," the fingers brushing her spine flattened and pushed her closer to him, so close only a millimeter separated their bodies. The small space between came alive, charged with electrical energy. "Or we can stay in this bed all day."

She didn't answer, she couldn't. She was afraid that if she did, she'd give in and throw herself on him in a shameless manner.

With her silence, the hand on her back slipped over her ribs to her front. It played with the edges of her bra for a moment before slipping under the thin cloth, cupping her breast in his palm. She attempted to tell him to get his dirty hands off her, but when she opened her mouth, she made a noise at the back of her throat that resembled pleasure.

His eyes had been out of focus, but they snapped back to hers.

He tilted his head in curiosity. The hand left her breast and before she knew it, they slipped past her own pajama bottoms, so fast she couldn't protest. As soon as his warm hand rested against the place no other boy had ever touched, she found she couldn't push him away. Her body did not obey her mind.

After just a second, he bought his hand back out into the light up to his face. It glistened, so wet it almost dripped off his finger. He looked at it in awe.

"You want me."

He said it as if it was a revelation, as if he didn't think it was possible.

Oh God, how did he know that? She wanted to hide her head in a hole. If anything could steal her power and put her in a dangerous position, it was his knowledge of her desire.

Something touched her leg. She looked down to see it was his arousal, hard and straining against his pajama pants.

Damn him, he knew what he was doing. Every action of his was knowledgeable and purposeful. His smirk turned wicked, and the desire she felt the day before slammed into her again, more intense. She held her breath, afraid of his fingers, his smirk, herself. He was waiting for her reactions. All she would have to do would be to lean into his touch by a miniscule amount, all she would have to do would be to arch her spine a little and push her stomach against his chest. The threshold was thin and weak, but she held strong.

"I want to go to training."

He looked put out by that, as if he had been so close to victory before it was snatched from his hands. He made a strange humming noise at the back of his throat, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Good girl," he said after a long moment, "But remember, little bird, I always get what I want. I always have, and I always will. I'm patient to a point, but mark my words," he suddenly flipped her on her back and straddled her waist, bending down to whisper in her ear, one hand lazily cupping her breast through her clothes. She was powerless to stop him. "I'm going to fuck you soon, and you'll beg me for more. I can promise you that."

He smirked before getting off of her and leaving the room. Prim panted into her pillow, refusing to acknowledge the burn that sparked across her body. It was so overwhelming, she nearly marched out of the room in search of Cato.

"Like hell, I'll beg, that narcissistic bastard," she said to the empty room.

Even she could hear the doubt in the words.

Later in the Afternoon

Prim had raised her hand in the air for ten minutes, her arm beginning to ache severely, before Mrs. Manniola acknowledged her.

"Is there a reason you want to interrupt my class, or is it just a product of your low-birth?"

Prim seethed under her breath, holding back the retort on her tongue. Her frontal lobe reminded her of Cato's promise before dropping her off in front of the Miss Manners Class, and of the consequences should she botch this lesson up.

The promise involved the bed and her legs spread, moaning his name sweetly in his ear. Now fully exorcised of the annoying pricks of desire, Prim was filled with loathing, for Cato and a bit for herself. He was decidedly more cocky after seeing her desire.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

Mrs. Manniola, "I see you've decided on the latter."

"I didn't realize bodily functions were class conscious. Oh wait, I see, there's pooping etiquette is there? Instead of grunting do I give a little mewl like a kitten. Do I try to squat delicately, with thighs firmly—"

"Just get out, you filthy, vulgar little—" She stopped herself, her cheeks tinging the ugly purple color Prim loved so much.

Manniola censored herself because of Cato, as well. Before class, Cato gave some well-placed threats and told her to stop being a bitch. It worked for the most part, but Prim and Mrs. Manniola were like oil and water. There should be no attempts to join them. Ugly clashes were bound to happen; it was only a matter of time. It was amazing they lasted so long without bringing out the claws.

Prim jumped from her seat and walked out of the classroom. She really did have to go to the bathroom. For most of the day, they had ignored each other. Even when she realized she had to go pee, she waited an hour before reluctantly raising her hand.

Now she was desperate for a bathroom. Prim wandered down the curving hall. All of the doors were nondescript.

"Where the hell am I supposed to find a stupid bathroom?" She was starting to waddle it hurt so bad. If she didn't find a place to go soon, she would make an embarrassing mess on the floor.

"Talking to yourself is a sign of a rotting mind."

Prim pivoted on heel to find Jace leaning against a door frame with a smirk, arms crossed across his massive chest. The height of his spiked hair reached past the top of the door.

"Oh," she whispered in relief, glad she found a familiar face in the labyrinth, "Bathroom. Please." It was all she could get out. She pressed her thighs together and hopped from one foot to the other.

Jace smirked in amusement.

"Take a left. Go a floor up, and about forty doors later it will be on your right."

"You're kidding, right?" Prim deadpanned. She acted calm, but inside she panicked. There would be no way she could last traveling that far, especially walking up stairs. Before she started breaking down and crying, which would have been embarrassing, Jace cocked his head in an endearing smile.

"Of course I am. It's actually only three doors down. Here, I'll show you."

She didn't even say thank you as he led her to the door and let her in. When the door clicked behind her, she nearly wept in relief.

Several minutes later, she stood washing her hands, relieved. With the relief came mental clarity. With the mental clarity came a creeping suspicion up her spine. With the creeping suspicion came panicked fear. The quiet of the room infected her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

Why was Jace outside her Miss Manners class? Was it just a coincidence, or was it on purpose? Her mind clicked away. He seemed harmless enough, but Cato's warnings buzzed through her brain.

He's sick... His women... He likes too...

He liked to do what? Prim wished she could remember. She knew she heard the rumors of something after his games. At the time, it hadn't seemed important. Only half her ears had been listening. It was whispers on the wind. He did something, though. Something awful. Something that made even the Capitol hesitate in their celebrations.

Prim didn't want to exit the bathroom. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her hands, still damp from the water, hesitated on the door handle. But she talked herself out of it.

I'm just being silly. He might be a tribute, but he didn't seem that bad. His smile—

She nodded her head at that, determined that she was just being foolish. Cato's warnings were meant to be possessive and controlling. Her talking to Jace had just made him jealous. Besides, she had to exit the room sometime. She couldn't stay in the bathroom forever, and there was only one exit.

Prim shoved her panicked fear down to nothing and let her courage rise within her spirit. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and pushed the door open.

Jace stood on the other side, a bottle of chloroform in one hand and a wet rag in the other. A pleasant smile tugged at his lips, and his grey eyes twinkled in a amusement.

"It's a good thing you went to the restroom, Rose," He tipped the bottle into his rag again until it dripped into the carpet below, "Because it's a long way to district 1, and I don't care to make any stops."

Prim tried to slam the door shut, but his foot caught it, and he entered the bathroom, his bulk blocking any exit. Then she tried to scream, but his hand came up and covered her mouth. From there, she only knew darkness.