Song Suggestion: Flight Facilities—"Clair de Lune" (Feat. Christine Hoberg)
Thank You: SergeantJohnston, K.C. Guest, Guest, cd291104, Lucy Greenhill, 3vlee, Obscure-Reference-Girl, Talon-Murtagh-Yassen-Sirius, Guest, HalleyJoe, slightlytwisted84, and Rachel!
Side Note: Alexander Ludwig (The guy who plays Cato) is on Vikings. Super excited.
Side Note #2: 300 reviews! Woo hoo! Y'all are awesome!
Show Me How
They were awoken by a fierce pounding, a thudding against the door which mimicked a drum.
"Shut the fuck up," Cato groaned and rolled over, curving a pillow around his head to block the sound
"That a bad word. You give me money," a little voice answered from the other side of the door, "Uncle Hanny told me if someone say a bad word, they give me money."
Prim, half delirious with sleep, smirked into her pillow, knowing exactly who stood on the other side of the door. If there was any reason she was happy to be back in this damned house, it was the precocious little girl with bright blue eyes and wild red curls.
"Go back to bed Coral," Cato said.
"No," Coral said. Prim could just imagine her lip jut out set in a pout—her stubborn face. When she got in one of her moods, it was the only time Coral reminded Prim of her father. "You open de door now, stupid poopy head."
Prim snorted.
"Cover yourself. I'll handle this," Cato said, clearly not as amused as she was.
She pulled the sheet up, but was too tired to pull up the blankets to cover her still naked body. Cato helped out and covered her with the thick blankets which were tangled around their ankles from their earlier bedroom exertions. Cato leaned down and tugged up some boxers. They rested low on his hips, highlighting the V muscles below his navel. His skin glowed in the moonlight. His feet smacked hard against the wood floors.
He flung the door open to find a very irate looking Coral. She had her hands on her hips, tapping her toes with her one-inch heels. A little purse was slung over her shoulder, but she was still in her pajamas. Red curls shot up in every direction.
"Go. To. Bed. Coral. This is the last time I'm going to tell you."
"I not afraid. You be afraid. You hurt mommy."
"What—" Cato began, obviously confused.
Coral's little body launched forward, cutting him off. Her hands slapped at his chest, and he grabbed them tight. But that didn't stop her. She was like a firecracker, exploding a second time. Her legs thrashed, aimed to hurt. One kick landed hard against his shin. Plastic heel against bone. She heard the impact from the bed. Cato hissed.
She was afraid Cato would hurt her in his anger, but he just scooped her up, carrying her waist under one arm like a bag. Coral twisted and turned, reminding Prim of Buttercup when she tried to give him a bath.
"Excuse me, while I handle my wayward daughter." She heard him stomp down the hallway, Coral screeching the entire way. The light from the hallway infiltrated the dark, and she put her hands over her eyes trying to block out the intrusion to her comfortable darkness.
It took ten full minutes before he shut the door and slipped back in bed.
"You didn't punish her, did you? She was just trying to protect me."
Even in the darkness, she could feel his smirk.
"She's a little shit sometimes, but I guess that's to be expected when her father is Cato Carthage. And no, I just locked her in her room to calm down. Though, she deserves a good beating after that."
Prim was relieved that he didn't hurt Coral. She wished she could sneak off and snuggle with her.
"What was her mother like?" The question popped out of Prim's mouth. She instantly regretted it, slapping her hand over her lips.
She felt the stillness in the room. It came alive and breathed down her neck.
"Spoiled, selfish, and vain." His words clipped the air, and she knew she should stop there, but her mouth ran away with itself.
"Did she not want to be a mother?"
"The only thing Persephone loves more than staring in the mirror is to have other people fawn all over her. A child would get in the way of her Captiol parties, hence when she dropped Coral off on my doorstep a few days after she'd been born. I hadn't even known she was pregnant. I'm surprised she didn't get an abortion..." he trailed off. "I believe she thought it would make me want to be with her. I'm not sure." He stared at the ceiling as if lost in memories. He shook his head, "But that doesn't matter anymore. Her mother is a selfish bitch, and Coral is better off without her." His eyes glanced at Prim in the dark, the blue so pale it seemed like the daytime in a sea of night, "I didn't miss what she called you. I knew you'd make the perfect mother for her."
Prim ignored that, as she did with most things he said that had too much intensity. The way he spoke about Coral's mother bothered her. He talked so derogatory. Was that the way he'd eventually speak about her?
"But you must have loved her mother at some point, to have had a child that is."
"Love?" Cato spat, "If that's what you call fucking, then sure. People don't have to love to breed. Coral was a mistake, one of the biggest ones I've ever made in my life."
"You can't mean that. Coral is not a mistake. She's beautiful and brave and everything a parent could wish for in a child."
"And if I do mean it?"
Rage boiled inside Prim at his idiocy.
"You can't keep hurting her because you're afraid."
"I'm not afraid of anything." He raised himself in anger, towering over her.
Prim's fists curled into balls. If she were braver, she'd smack him across the face she was so spitting mad. Her verbal knives came out, banishing any thought of self-preservation.
"Not afraid? I've never seen someone so afraid of losing someone, of loving someone. You're so afraid you can barely stand to look at her. You've made yourself invulnerable. And what did you get out of it? Nothing! You, Cato Carthage, are a fool. Do you want me to predict the end to your pathetic story: one day you'll lose any chance to ever be loved. You'll be alone forever and miserable and you'll only be able to blame yourself."
His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to yell at her, his hand came forward as if he wanted to grasp her throat, but instead he jumped out of the bed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door in the process.
Much, much later, he crawled back into bed, as if admitting a certain type of defeat, allowing the cold to rush in when he lifted the covers. She thought it was a dream at first, but he shook her shoulders gently to wake her.
Then he kissed her hard, demanding and asking. Prim responded, starved for something she wasn't sure he could give. He pulled off his clothing, and they rested skin to skin, vulnerable to each other. He moved slow, almost unsure, movements absent of the force and fury from earlier as his hands traced languidly over her curves, caressing with the rough pads of his thumbs the dips and bends, creating vibrations as he went.
Then she came to her senses for the first time in days, rediscovering her courage. She tried to stop him, a half-hearted attempt. He grabbed the hand that tried to slap at his chest in frustration and brought it to his mouth, closing his eyes as he brushed it past the wet heat behind his lips.
"Please, just—" he stopped and set his mouth in a hard line, "I just... I fucking hate you sometimes. You say these things as if you know something, when you know nothing of circumstance or me. It's all just impressions. Some days I wish I could throw you out in the cold, be as cruel as you believe me to be… but we've been colliding for years. If there's something real in fate, I believe I've found it. Let me have you, let me finally have something. Don't you understand, I don't think I'm able to stay away from you," he whispered into the night, "Tell me you feel the same… tell me you need me, even if it's just for this." He brushed his hands down her body again to explain.
Something in his words was deep, soothing, and slightly insane, and it terrified Prim. She did everything in her power to change the tide, to turn it back towards physical endeavors, to get lost in pleasure instead of hate or guilt that still ate at her soul. Her silence answered him.
She touched him on his chest, travelling lower, bravely taking him into her hand, marveling at the small involuntary sound he made at the back of his throat like a hum, wondering at the power she felt, and then they touched each other, explored the silhouettes of each other's bodies, until they mapped it to memory. When he entered her, she sighed his name like it was a new language she was trying to learn.
"Show me," Cato rasped into her ear as they both climaxed, "I-I don't know… Show me how."
Before she could get a proper explanation, he rolled off her and went to sleep.
She couldn't help but muse that this time around, the sensations built with a ringing happiness. The remnants still buzzed through her system, the muscles in her belly ached pleasantly.
It was how she imagined it would be with Gale.
It felt like love, though she would be a fool to call it that.
And she almost hated him for the lie.
Two Days Later
Prim knocked on the door to Katla's sick room, anxious to see her. She wasn't sure what she expected to find, maybe Katla pale and next to death's door like the last time she saw her. Prim opened the door and limped on her bad foot she twisted in the snow without waiting for permission to enter, and what she saw surprised her.
Katla sat at the edge of the bed in the most bizarre clothes she ever saw. A tall top hat was on her head, along with about fifteen necklaces. A thick fluffy scarf wrapped its way twice around her throat, thrown carelessly behind her back. On top of her healing dress, she had on a fur overcoat meant for a woman. She turned her face to smile at Prim, showing globs of makeup: elecrtic blue eye shadow, bright pink blush, and eggplant purple lipstick.
She looked ridiculous.
Coral was curled up to her side, dressed in similar clothes with the hideous makeup on her face as well. They both clutched tiny tea cups. Bear Bear, Mr. Lumpkins, and Cherry Blossom, Coral's favorite teddy bears were propped up across from them with tiny tea cups in front of them, untouched.
Katla smirked, "Come to join us for tea?"
She brought the cup to her lips as if drinking a wonderful liquid.
When Coral caught sight of her, she popped up from her seat and ran to Prim.
"Mommy!" She hurtled herself into Prim. She caught the little girl at the last moment. Prim never realized a simple hug could make her feel so pure and good.
Katla raised a delicate eyebrow at the display, a small smile pulling up one corner of her mouth.
Coral sniffled a little. She had her head buried in Prim's legs. After a moment, she raised her head to look into Prim's eyes. "I miss you so much. I thought you gone forever."
Prim leaned down and gave a little kiss on the little girl's head, trying her best to reassure her.
"As you can see, I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." Her voice came out chirpy, but her insides fought off depression at the thought.
Coral frowned, as if she wasn't sure if she could believe her or not. It broke Prim's heart. However, with an attention span as short as hers, her face soon snapped up with a smile. She took Prim's hand in her own and dragged her closer to the bed.
"Come meet auntie Kat."
Katla's grip on her teacup tightened. As Prim got closer, she noticed she kept her left hand in a sling. Her wrist hidden under the white cloth of her bed clothes.
Katla's pinched face soon softened when confronted with Coral.
"As much as I'd love to be your auntie, it's not quite final." She glanced into Prim's eyes with determination. No matter how much she already lost, she wasn't done fighting. Prim admired her bravery. Coral's face fell.
"But Uncle Hanny told me—"
"He must have been mistaken. I might not be your aunt, but I can be your best friend if you want."
Coral thought about that for a little bit.
"Oh, I love that."
"Coral," Prim began, "how about you go and set up tea time in your room. Your friend Kat looks a little tired."
"But we have fun now," she pouted.
"I promise I'll come play tea with you after I'm done having a grown up talk with Kat."
"Pinky promise?"
Prim nodded solemnly and held out her pinky to the little girl. Coral held out her own as well, and they met in the middle, shaking them up and down.
And though Prim could clearly see the little girl didn't want to go, Coral walked out the door, closing it with a click behind her.
The silence wrapped around both of them. The stared at each other. It wasn't uncomfortable nor was it comfortable. In between them lay a shared experience, a brush with death that wouldn't shake off easily. The bond created by survival ran deep. Prim had always wondered why Katniss became so emotional over Rue, a little girl she only knew for a few weeks. Now Prim believed she understood a little better.
Prim wasn't aware that tears pricked her eyes, until she felt the wetness running down her cheeks.
"Oh, don't cry," Katla said with a rueful smile, "I'm good as new. Better even."
Prim walked closer to her bed.
"But your hand—"
Katla snorted, "Hannibal's money and connections were good for something, I guess. A few of those fancy cosmetic Captiol doctors came and fixed me a new one, new feet too. It's mechanical, of course, but it's connected to my brain somehow. It moves when I want it to, and it almost feels real too."
"Do you mind if I look? I used to be a healer. It would make me feel better to examine it."
"Sure." Katla pulled out her hand from the sling around her chest.
Marvelous, Prim thought, unable to believe it. It almost looked real. She picked it up in her hand. It was heavier than a normal hand, and harder. The warmth of normal skin was absent, but for all appearances it looked normal. Prim couldn't even tell where the fake ended and the real began.
"I'm glad you're alive." She squeezed her hand to show her sincerity, though she wasn't sure if Katla could feel it.
"There is something about living that can make a person happy."
The silence after that was comfortable, though it was filled with a gap of things left to be said.
"So… Mommy?" Katla smirked. "You do seem the maternal type."
"I don't have the heart to correct her."
Katla snorted and gave her little nose wrinkle.
"She is an adorable, persistent little thing, if a little manipulative. If you're not careful, she'll play you better than her father would to get what she wants."
"What in the world are you wearing?" She motioned to the several layers of non-matching clothing articles.
"Hannibal, the prat, is more devious than his blond curls will lead you to believe. He sent his niece to give me the piece of clothing to play dress-up. Who am I to refuse a little girl?"
"Why would he do that?"
Katla blinked for a moment, before comprehension lit up her face.
"Oh, right. I forget you don't understand how Manato works." She glanced Prim up and down. Prim wore a soft skirt that swished when she walked and a tailored blouse. Her casual wear was now more elegant than any person in District 12 would ever wear, including Madge, the Mayor's daughter. "They have to prove their hospitality before they can really legally make their moves, to show they can provide. It's just tradition now, if anything. Wearing the clothes they give is just one of the aspects. If you accept it, they can rape you if they want, do whatever, and the district, peacekeepers, and captiol authorities won't do a damn thing. Not to their beloved victors."
An image of a closet full of clothes, all her size came to mind. As did his insults to her old clothes, his insistence to wear the ones he provided. It all clicked together like a giant puzzle.
"What's the other aspect?"
"Food. I have yet to eat a bite besides the little bit I needed for recovery. That doesn't count because it was for survival. I'd like to see him try to put a morsel past my mouth today. I'm tempted to starve I'm so mad."
Food? She remembered the first day she had been here. A lifetime ago, it seems.
A guest should always eat at a host's table.
She had played so easily into his hand. He had manipulated her from the beginning, using her ignorance to his advantage, and a fire boiled inside her at the thought.
"But you wore the clothes he provided?" Prim asked, confused. If she wanted to fight so badly, why did she accept the coat?
Katla stroked the fur with her left hand, the one that could still feel. It was the only article of clothing that was beautiful, and it was clearly the one meant for her.
"The damn little girl started crying when I told her I didn't want to play dress-up. You'd have to be pretty cold to not respond to her display. Hannibal knows my soft spot for little kids. He probably is congratulating himself as we speak. I bet the bastard told her to cry. He'd—"
She stopped talking when the door cracked open, and the man in question walked in. When Hannibal noticed Prim sitting on the side of the bed, he gave a sheepish expression that didn't fit him. She always thought of him as just as cocky and self-assured as Cato, but with Katla glaring off to her side, he seemed vulnerable, as if it any moment she could wound him. If he resented Prim for being responsible for the near fatal escape, he didn't show it. In fact, he barely saw that she was there. His eyes stayed locked on Katla, on her fur coat, a surprised smile on his face. It was snow white, rabbit's fur, and looked as soft as clouds.
"You look beautiful in the—"
Katla held up her hand and visibly gagged.
"Don't you dare assume wearing this jacket is acceptance. It's more like pity. And my pity isn't for you either, it's for your niece. I'm wearing this for her only."
Even Prim winced at that. Hannibal's eyes wandering to the floor.
"I didn't mean to interrupt." He held up a tray that held a small bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice and banana. A tiny vase stood next to the plate with a small flower (where he got a flower in the middle of the winter, Prim didn't know) sticking erect against the glass. It looked lovingly put together. "I'll go to let you talk some more in a moment. I just brought some food."
"You can just turn around and walk back out and take your disgusting food with you."
Hannibal frowned, "You need to eat, Kat. You just had major surgery and reconstruction. I know you've had enough to survive, but putting up all of this resistance is stupid. You're making yourself weak. Here," he set the tray on the table next to her bed. He brushed past Prim, and when he leaned down, the front of his shirt gaped open, giving her a clear view of the ugly burn. It started at the hollow of his throat and twisted down, covering about half of his chest.
The wound must have been painful, and it still might be uncomfortable with the skin stretched and bunched and mangled. They reminded her of Brutus' scars and she wondered why, with all of his money and connections, he kept them.
Hannibal turned and walked the way he came and was almost to the door when Katla picked up the orange juice and bowl of soup. Hearing the noise, Hannibal stood still and silent, facing the door for ten seconds, his chest heaving his body up and down again before twisting on his heel. The hope in his eyes was hard to witness. It reminded Prim too much of pain to be comfortable.
Katla brought the glass of juice to her lips. She let it touch for a moment with a sweet smile, before jerking her arm straight out and dumping the contents into a fern on the other side of her sick bed. The bowl of soup soon followed. Hannibal looked as if she had just shot an arrow through his chest.
"Congratulations," Katla said, "You made me kill some plants. I hope you're happy with the collateral damage of your affections. Everything you bring me will go straight into the fucking fern."
"Fine," Hannibal replied tightly. He turned, his back straight as a board, hands clenched by his sides, and walked out the door.
"A little cruel," Prim said in the wake of silence that followed, "But I do believe you got your point across."
"Just because I care about him, doesn't mean I don't want to strangle him. He stole me, Prim; right out of the arms of the man I had grown to love. We both worked down in the mines… I really didn't believe it would last. But…" She choked on a sob, and the sight made Prim's chest constrict painfully. It was hard to watch a woman as strong as Katla break.
"How did Hannibal get his scars?" She asked to get on a different, less painful subject. However, it was also for curiosity sake.
Katla didn't answer at first. Her anger quieted, and she leaned back and put her hand back in her sling, glancing out the window. Flurries of snow piled up on the window sill. In the distance, the mountain stood majestic and proud.
"He saved them." She whispered.
Prim cocked her head. Katla's answer wasn't to her; it was to herself, said as if in a dream. Her eyes gained a far-off look.
"Who?"
"My little brother and sister. We were fifteen at the time." Her eyes snapped back to mine. The tears pooled in her eyes, but they still did not fall. "There was a fire, and those spread quick in quarry towns because of the dust. It jumped houses. I'm not sure why or how Hannibal was there, but he was. I tried to run in, but the smoke was so thick. I could hear them screaming inside, especially Clara. She was only three. He pulled me out, threw me to the ground. Told me to stay. Then he jumped right into the flames. He got burned reaching over the fire to pluck up Clara from the ground. Zane held onto his foot as they crawled out."
They grew quiet for a moment. Katla seemed lost in her memories, and the skin between her eyebrows creased.
"Why did he keep the burns?"
"I don't know." Katla's hands ran the length of the blanket covering her, "I told him to get rid of them."
More silence.
"I'm tired," Katla said. It dismissed her.
"It'll all be alright, in the end." Prim squeezed her shoulder.
Katla only turned her head, "I don't believe in happy endings."
Prim only gave a sad nod, understanding the sentiment ever since hearing of Gales death, and walked out.
The door clicked behind her, and a hand shot out, wrapping around her upper shoulder and surprising her. She looked up to find Hannibal.
"If you'd like to know, I kept them to remind her," he said, "she never looked at me that much, but when she did I wanted her to know of what I'd do for her. To what lengths I'd go. Of my devotion… of my love."
Of your obsession. The words almost burst out of her mouth, but she bit her tongue.
As much as she rooted for Katla, in her own way, she wanted Hannibal to win as well. There was just something endearing about him, like a puppy dog.
He let go of her arm and began walking down the hall.
"I think she loves you too." She called after him, though she wasn't sure if she meant it. She just wanted to make him feel better.
He twisted his head and gave a smirk.
"Not yet," he said, "but my charm is legendary. Not to mention that I'm quite dashing. I give her a week tops."
He gave a wink that reminded her so much of Rory, Prim burst out laughing.
Later that Night
Cato made her come to dinner that night.
Prim dressed as normal as possible and walked right through the double doors, distracted by her thoughts.
She stopped short, her heart thudding in her chest, for several strangers stared back. And one of them wasn't happy to see her.