Song Suggestion: Kings of Leon-"Closer"

A/N: So I had a second heart surgery. It's still early, but I think this one might have worked! Fingers crossed!

Thank You: katnisseverdeendistrict12, Jaslyn, K.C., Lindsey, callofdutygirl13, These Lonely Skies, Guest, Bea0407, HeyBirdy, Guest, Guest, Rachel, SweetStarre123, Sandraanataliaa, and 13Kali! Thank you so much for your reviews!

Blood Stains

The lamp smacked across his face, hitting his mouth and nose: the crack of bone, the spray of blood. The crimson arced up and splattered across Prim's body. Her insides twisted at the warmth, at the pain. No matter if he deserved it, no matter if it was for survival, it still felt wrong. She dropped the lamp from shaking hands, trying to control the instant nausea.

In his pain, Jace let go of Prim, and she took the opportunity, wiggling out of his grasp, twisting across the bed. She scrambled upright, the adrenaline causing her to stumble in her attempt to stand. Trying to exit the room would be futile, the seconds ticked along with her heart. There was no time. The closet place of relative safety was the bathroom. It was so close. If she could just get in there and lock the door...

Before she could take another step, a hand wrapped around her ankle and flicked up, smacking her body against the carpet. Her head turned to see Jace standing over her, her foot still in his hand. Blood covered the lower part of his face, and his eyes sparked like fire. He smiled, his teeth stained red.

Prim screamed for the first time. It warbled for a moment before going out.

"Go ahead; I like it when you scream." He dragged her ankle towards him. Prim tried to grip unto anything. Her fingers gripped the side table, but it crashed on the ground, breaking a part and barely missing her head. His fingers tangled in her hair, picking her up with little effort on his part and threw her against the bed. She bounced a moment, before he gripped her hips, holding her so that her bottom was in the air, her face pressed into the bedspread. She sucked in a breath and coughed, inhaling the years of dust and neglect. Jace pushed the edges of her torn dress up her back, as her legs dangled off the side of the bed. His body pressed tight against hers, his arousal pressed against the top of her exposed back. He whispered into her ear: "If you want to be a bitch, I'll go ahead and fuck you like one."

The back of his hand pressed against the base of her skull, hard enough to snap it. The sides of his fingers cut off her blood flow, and black spots floated. The edges of her vision tunneled. Prim attempted to stay conscious, but it would only be a matter of moments.

A tremendous bang.

The pressure of on her neck released. It took a moment of frantic breathing. She clawed at the bed, gasping and lurching. Fluid ran from her face, a mixture of snot and tears and possibly blood. She had bit her tongue and tasted metal.

She didn't have long to sort out what was going on. Jace snatched her up from her position flat on the bed. Strong, gigantic muscles wrapped around her upper chest, his fingers digging into her skin. They stood close to the bathroom, facing the door.

A brilliant light blinded her, and she brought up an arm to try and see through the painful haze.

Cato stood in front of the sunlight in the doorway, looking like an avenging angel, and Prim's heart leaped to her throat.

He found me, he found me. It was the only thing able to play in her mind. How did he find me?

Blond hair got lost against the white rays, but his outline stood tall and confident with legs spread. He was still dressed in his training uniform, slicked tight against his skin with a heavy leather coat that went down to his feet. The door to the room hung off its hinges as if kicked off. As she became accustomed to the light, she realized his face was set in grim, lethal lines.

They stood this way for several minutes. Jace kept her pressed against him, a small knife pushed against the side of her throat, right next to the jugular.

"You're move, Carthage," he twisted Prim's neck to show the vulnerable position he had her in, "Come to fight me?"

"I've come to kill you." He hefts up a gun with both hands on the handle and fingers close to the trigger. A whirring noise began, and the barrel turned electric blue.

"Where the fuck did you find a gun?" Jace's grip tightened, and the edge of the knife bit into her skin. "You're even more insane than me."

If weapons were illegal in districts, guns were an instant death sentence. Not even victors were allowed to have them. The executions were public events, and they were gory enough not many wanted to take the chance. They just weren't worth it. Even though Cato was twice a victor, and one of the most beloved victors at that, for him to have one was still a big X on his back.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" He nodded to the whirring, blue-barreled gun, "Top of the line, made-for-Capitol performance. See this red dot." A red laser sprouted from the edge. It met with Jace's forehead, a bulls-eye between his eyes, "I have it programmed to your DNA. I've had it programmed for a while, since I knew one day you'd do something as incredibly stupid as this. There'll be nowhere to run or hide. It'll seek out your blood from across this room, and your brains will decorate the wall."

"Then why haven't you? It's just the pull of a trigger."

Cato smirked and lowered his gun, and the act made Prim confused.

What was he doing?

"Because I won't have to. The gun is the last thing you should worry about. You fucked up; you fucked up bad, especially if you fucked her."

Prim twisted her head just enough to see Jace frown. His usual smile of confidence and manipulation was wiped from his face.

"Why would I be afraid of you?"

"It's not me you should be afraid of—It's Snow."

At the name, she felt a tremor go through Jace.

"You've always been a lying shit. Why should I believe you?"

"It's not about belief, it's about stakes. Is she worth rebelling against one of Snow's plans?"

"What use would Snow have with a little chit like her? You just want her pussy for yourself, selfish bastard. But guess what? It's too late. You walked in on our second round. You might as well find yourself another bitch to fuck, this one's used up."

Cato gave no reaction to his taunts besides a whistling breath through his teeth, a twitch in his face, and the tightening of his hand. Every muscle was taunt and ready, and his knees came into a crouch as if about to spring forward at a moment's notice. The tension in the room was like tiptoeing around landmines. One false move and both the men would explode with their fury.

Cato didn't answer, and Jace thought he won with his silence. His stance became looser, and he leaned against the wall. One hand kept the knife at her throat, and the other ran a path down her ribs and hips and thighs and back up, a taunting gesture geared towards both her and Cato.

"I'm calling your bluff."Jace smiled again.

Cato shrugged as if he didn't care, though the tension remained in his shoulders.

"Enjoy The Pit. Remember Cannon? I've been told he screamed for hours."

Jace flinched. The hand on her hip dug into her skin so hard she was sure he'd leave an ugly black bruise.

The Pit? Prim had never heard of it, but she suspected it wasn't a pleasant place. The silence stretched, leaving both parties tense and stagnant until Cato broke it in a slow, measured voice.

"There's a chance I'm lying, Hartline, but there's a chance I'm telling the truth. Fifity-fifty. A flip of a coin away from torture and agonizing death. You're a gambling man. Tell me, are those good odds?"

Jace thought about it for a moment, his forehead wrinkled, and he had his head tilted to the side as if it would make him think better. Then his hand dropped from Prim's hip, and the knife slid away from her neck. Everyone knew who won.

"Better than some," Jace said. "This isn't over."

"You've never had a chance," he held out his hand and made a motion towards himself as if she was a frightened puppy that would bolt, "Come one little bird, come here. He won't hurt you anymore."

Prim didn't need to be told twice. If her legs weren't so shaky, she'd sprint across the room. As it were, she wobbled and stopped in the center between the two men.

"My clothes." She said, hesitant. Her dress hung in two, unable to give protection from eyes or the cold. She crossed her arms on her chest feeling vulnerable, like the armor was ripped from her body.

She reached down to grab the simple cotton dress that Jace pulled from the bag earlier. In their struggle on the bed, it had fallen to the floor. She held it in her hands, but a hand grabbed it from her. She looked up to stare into Cato's sneering face.

"Did you eat?" His eyes searched the bed and landed on the remnants of their snack. His frown deepened.

"Well, yes, but—" She was at a loss for words. Why was this important at the moment? She needed some form of cover, and then she needed to put miles between this dirty place and sick man for her sanity. Her mental status teetered at the brink of some cliff, and she felt at any moment she would topple into darkness.

"Just let her wear the damn dress. We're already equal in standing," Jace said behind her.

Cato threw the dress on the ground and ground his foot into it.

"Wearing this will only make things a whole lot worse."

"Then what am I supposed to wear?" She sniffled back a few tears. Did he expect that after being assaulted she'd want to waltz out of the room without clothes?

He thought for a moment before shrugging out of his long leather coat. Underneath his clothes, he wore a short-sleeved training shirt—definitely not clothes for winter winds.

It hung heavy on her shoulders as she slipped her arms inside and pulled it tight around her body. She wanted to wrap and wrap until her flesh disappeared. The ends of the coat pooled at her toes, way too big for her frame.

Cato tugged on her arm and pulled her out of the room. But she couldn't help it, it was a compulsion- before they walked into the sunlight, Prim glanced back just once.

Jace's forehead stayed furrowed, as if angry, but that damn smile pulled at his lips, showing his blood-stained teeth. He didn't regret anything. His smile promise determination. Cato saved her for the moment, but it only stoked the flames of competition.

The light hurt her eyes. It was too bright, too pure. She wished it was night, so she could use the dark as a cover to hide her head under. The light laid bare everything, and she almost whimpered under the sudden scrutiny.

Cato walked at a quick speed, almost too fast for a bare-foot Prim. She wasn't sure when she lost her shoes, but her feet padded against jagged rocks and prickly weeds.

"Slow down," she said.

Instead, Cato stopped and flung her around with a wild look in his eyes.

"Did he violate you? I—I mean did he..."

Her eyes went towards her feet, towards her physical pain.

"No," she whispered. She wasn't sure he heard her, until he sighed and the tense line of his shoulders sagged. The hand covering her her arm loosened.

"Get on the bike."

Prim glanced up to see a Captiol hoverbike parked against the side of the building. It was white with blue stripes. She knew them from anywhere.

"That's a Peacekeeper's bike." She glanced at Cato with her mouth open. How did he get such a thing?

"Yeah, and it's the fastest land transportation besides a train in Panem. Now stop talking and get on it."

She did, though it made her insides scramble. Like weapons, if anybody in the districts were to even touch a Peacekeeper's hoverbike, let alone ride one, they'd have a painful, long, public death. Somehow she didn't think Cato was exempt from this rule, nor allowed to ride one. That only meant...

"How did you get it?"

Before Cato even turned it on, Prim felt the power between her legs as she straddled it with both sides of her coat falling off each side.

"I stole it, of course." He gave a familiar, cocky smirk. He held up his gun, "That's how I got this as well." He laughed before throwing it into the bushes. It still whirred and flashed electric blue.

"So you didn't have his DNA programmed into it?" The thought made her nauseas.

"Nope." His blue eyes gave a twinkle. "He should have called by bluff from the beginning. Jace may call himself a wolf, but he's never been really bright."

His leg lifted and slid across, mounting the bike in front of her.

"Hold on to me, little bird. We'll be going very, very fast." He grabbed the sleeves of her coat and wrapped her hands around his middle. His stomach was stone beneath the thin cloth of his shirt. She scooted up against him, relishing in the feeling of safety. So soon after her assault she clung to the security. It did funny things to her brain.

When did the aggressor become the protector? She was too tired to sort it out.

Before they started, she had to ask him something that troubled her.

"H—how did you find me?"

He tapped the silver bracelet still cinched around her wrist.

"It's more than pretty."

"You tracked me!"

She wasn't sure why she felt outraged at the idea. Of course, he'd track her.

"I'm not a dumb man. Tell me, if given a chance, would you run from me?"

She didn't answer.

"That's what I thought." Cato slammed down the gas with his foot and the bike came to life, purring beneath her. It lurched forward, the force almost ripping Prim off the bike. Her grip tightened like a snake, squeezing him into herself.

"Easy now," he said, after they reached a road and started going at a fast, but consistent, speed. The wind whistling by her face, the images blurring around her: she hated it all. "You don't have to strangle me." Her grip didn't loosen, and it wouldn't until they got home.

They were going home.

The thought jolted her for a moment. Did she just think of Cato's home as her own? When did that happen? It had been months since she was in District 12, and her old shack had turned into a dream with time.

She started crying. Not silent, streaking tears, but great gasping sobs. She placed her face against Cato's back and let the effects of trauma take over her, the trembling, the low screams.

"Easy now," Cato said again, gentler.

"Pull over," Prim whimpered.

The speed of the bike decreased, and he pulled to the side of the road and stopped. Prim vaulted off the bike and rushed to some nearby bushes and heaved. Nothing came out, but she continued to heave as if trying to expel some type of horror. She glanced at her hands spattered with blood. It brought back memories of the crack of bone, the arch of spraying warm blood, the warmth of someone's pain. In frantic motions, she pushed her hands against her pants, attempting to erase her guilt, her fear, her pain. The blood stained and stayed, refusing to be ignored.

A hand on the middle of her back brought her back to the present. She straightened and turned, launching herself into his arms. He looked surprised and gave a little "omph" when they collided, but he recovered quickly wrapping his arms around her. She buried her head against his chest, seeking the comfort of another human being. If there had been anybody else around... but there wasn't. He was her only connection to humanity, and she focused on the steadiness of his heart, the strength of his arms.

"I hurt him," she cried, "I hurt him."

She untangled their arms and backed up to stare into his eyes. Cato looked confused.

"Hartline?" He searched her face. "Are you seriously upset about hurting him, after everything?" His voice was no longer gentle; it was a little incredulous and condescending. It looked as if he wanted to spit at her feet in disgust. "I can't believe we're even discussing this. You've no idea how proud of you I was when I saw him, all bloodied up." He reached out for her, but the spell had been broken from earlier. He lowered his arms again. "I've only seen a few people knock him around enough to make him bleed, and my little bird fucking broke his nose."

"You don't understand."

He shook his head as if in disbelief, with a touch of humor. The disgust left his face. He was looking at her in awe, and it was starting to make her uncomfortable.

"I don't think I'll ever understand you."

Even though it was unnecessary, she felt as if she had to justify her actions somehow.

"I was just so... so afraid," she said.

He reached out and touched a strand of her long hair and wrapped it around his finger. It used to be blonde as a kid, but as she got older it darkened, as if her hair mirrored her spirit. Something inside her chest felt broken.

"How about we get home, yeah?" He asked.

Prim nodded, and they made their way back to the bike, trudging barefoot through the brambles and thorns. The bottoms of her feet were probably torn, but she felt too numb to feel anything anymore.

"Would you feel better if you sat in front?"

Prim thought about it for a moment and climbed on the front of the bike.

As soon as she was seated, another wave of tears came. She tried to hide these, holding in her gasps of breath. But he still noticed them. He rubbed her back in comforting circles, as if unsure what to do. She twisted on the seat, so that she faced him. Their legs touched each other as she leaned into his chest. His hands ran up and down her back.

"There now, little bird, there now. I'm here. You can't shake me that easy."

His lips kissed her hair, and then touched her cheek gently.

It was an innocent gesture, but electricity bolted through her. Fire crackled along her skin. It was the first time he touched her skin since rescuing her, and it felt delicious, as if she could drink it.

"Oh, Cato," she moaned. Her raised her chin in his hand, looking into her eyes. The blues were wide and open. She had never seen him so exposed. They flashed and raged and crashed.

Prim reached up and smashed her lips into his, unable to deny the tension swirling in her belly. It urged her; it demanded her to tear into him. To bring his body inside of her own, to complete each other.

Cato responded with a moan of his own, his mouth hot on her own. Their legs tangled and their heat pressed together.

"Oh, please touch me." She couldn't help but beg.

Cato reeled back, disconnecting their bodies with a sudden force. She tried to reach out for him, a pout on her lips. How dare he stop her! But he flung her back again and jumped from the bike as if escaping a demon, chest heaving, hair wild from where she had tangled her fingers. His eyes flicked her up and down until satisfied with a conclusion.

"That fucker gave you Vice!"

"Vice?" She managed to get out in her haze.

Oh yeah, the drug. She wanted to smack herself. And after a few moments letting her body return to normal, she wanted to find a hole and duck her head into it. No matter that he saved her, Cato Carthage didn't deserve to be kissed willingly.

She wanted an explanation of the drug Jace forced on her, but he ignored her question.

"Damn him," Cato said to himself, running a hand through his hair. He looked up at Prim. The openness in his eyes was gone, replaced by steel. But one side of his lips jumped up and down. "I should have known it was too good to be true."

Cato made sure not to touch her bare skin the whole ride home, though Prim still felt him through her clothes, hyper-aware of every movement.

The sparks still electrified her skin.

And Prim was afraid they were real.