Song Suggestion: Gotye—"Heart's a Mess"
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A/N: Sorry about the two week wait. I got some wisdom teeth pulled out. Pain is not conducive to writing. Oh, and to anyone who is wondering, to view the original Foxes- "Home" all you have to do is type in "Home Foxes original" into google. Thank you, anonymous guest.
Knock, Knock Goes My Heart
Prim glanced around in confusion.
Who could that be? She thought. Maybe it's Madge. She had to stop herself from the painful fantasy of it being Gale.
A sudden urgency filled Prim, and she ripped the tangled blankets from her legs and bounded towards the door. But Cato beat her to it. His fingers slipped around the doorknob before she could turn it.
Before her anger got the best of her, Cato spoke and banished any ill feelings.
"I invited her, Prim," his eyes looked earnest, "Please don't make me regret it."
Her... her... could it be? He had told her yesterday she wasn't allowed to see her. It had been painful and she had vowed to hate him for it.
"I want you to be happy," He said, "remember that, please. No matter what."
"Who is—"
He cut off her questions by opening the door, revealing her mother. Her hair was more vibrant, golden as the wheat fields in District 11, even paler than her own coloring. Her clear blue eyes blinked rapidly. She even wore a new dress: a white cotton number, clean without any rips or smudges. And though she still looked skinny, the roses in her cheeks bloomed.
Most of all, she was there! Smiling, aware, and beautiful. It constricted Prim's heart with a fierce happiness, overwhelming in its appearance.
Prim wondered briefly how her mother acquired a new dress, even with Cato's financial help, and then she noticed the hulking man who stepped forward into the doorframe.
The brilliant sunlight made it hard to see, but the outline of this particular man was hard to forget.
"Mother," she exclaimed, and then turned her attention to the man, "And Brutus!"
Her mom didn't answer, but burst into tears. Brutus gave a nod of his head with a one-sided smirk.
"Hello, little girl."
And then she flung herself out the door towards her mother, towards Brutus, and towards the brilliant rays of the sun.
The next few moments were a blur. Both the men stood off to the side. But Prim didn't allow Brutus to feel excluded for long. She gripped him tight, and he gave a rough pat to her back as if equally pleased and uncomfortable.
The greeting didn't stop until Cato cleared his throat behind them. Prim turned to see him staring at her in a disconcerting way. A small smile showed on his face, only wide enough to show a thin strip of teeth. The intensity of it made Prim feel exposed.
"The camera crews are probably still around." He motioned to the front door, "So how about we come inside."
Prim considered this and nodded, deciding it was a smart move. Prim certainly didn't want the Capitol focusing their camera lens on either Brutus or her mother. The scrutiny of the capitol, no matter how seemingly benign was never free of ills.
They walked into the house, and when the door closed, Cato turned to face her mother. If she hadn't of known him, she would have missed his nervous gesture of running his hands though his hair. He bowed at his waist and took her mother's wrist in his hand, bringing it to his lips. Then he straightened and let go of her wrist.
"Hello, Mrs. Everdeen, it's a pleasure to meet—"
The hand he kissed flew through the hair and smacked him across the face with more force than Prim ever thought her dainty mother possessed.
Brutus howled in the background, his mirth so great he doubled over and slapped his knees.
"That is for my Primrose." She backhanded him again before he could react, "you vile scum. How many lies have you told her for her to be compliant? I should tell her about—"
He grabbed her hand before she could strike him again, and then let go.
"You will stop right there." Cato's voice was low, and despite her brief show of strength, she obeyed him with a snarl on her face. "If you may be so kind, I would like a word with you in private."
Brutus still choked on his breaths behind them.
"That was... my god, woman... you're magnificent!" He said between bouts of heaving silent laughter.
Cato frowned in response, and Prim noticed he was holding in his temper. As much as she was on Brutus' side, she was struck by how proud she was of Cato's control.
In an act that showed great restraint, he held his arm out for her mother to take.
"Shall we?"
Prim's mother nodded her acceptance, but didn't take the arm. She held her skirts in her hands and walked into the kitchen. Cato dropped his arm with a deeper frown and followed her inside. The door swooshed closed behind them.
The moment the door closed, Brutus raised an eyebrow at Prim.
"If you aren't going to listen in on them, then I am."
Prim didn't need any more invitation. Her ear pressed against the painted wood, trying to hear the muffled sounds. They were in some kind of argument, the voices rising and falling. Most of it was garbled, but she did catch a few phrases here and there when their voices rose to a certain pitch. What she heard didn't answer any questions and only increased her curiosity.
What did they have to speak about? What did they have to argue about?
"You won't dare mention it!" Cato said, so loud it was crystal clear.
Mention what? She pressed her ear harder into the door, as if that would help her hearing.
The next few sentences were once again muffled.
"If I find out you told her—" his voice went quiet, but she almost thought the second part was, "I'll never let you see her again."
Whether it was actually what he said or not, Prim felt frozen inside at the thought. Would he really bar her from ever seeing her mother again? Could he be that cruel?
At that last thought, she scoffed at herself. Of course he could...
Prim was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't realize the voices inside had quieted down. She stepped back from door seconds before it swung back open. Cato resembled his monster self.
"You have an hour before the train comes." He almost spat in anger.
Before he let her mother pass, he grabbed her arm in a firm hold.
"Watch it, pup." Brutus said from the corner, no longer laughing. His arms clenched across his chest so tightly that flesh-colored veins popped up.
"Remember what we talked about. If you decide to be stupid, there's nothing you or your new bodyguard can do to stop me from taking her away and never returning."
The look that flashed across her mother's face was hard to pin down. Her whole body stiffened and some of the darkness peeked out of her eyes, a flash of the vacant stare Prim had dealt with most her life. It took over for a moment before it cleared when she snarled at him. Her ferocious look surprised Prim, having never seen its like before.
"And you listen here, Mr. Carthage. Secrets don't stay buried for long, especially for a person like you. Destruction seems to be the only thing you understand how to do."
Cato snorted at that, amused at the treat, but one side of his smile faltered. He backed away and walked over to the stairs. Before climbing, he glanced over his shoulder at Prim.
"One hour."
One Hour Later
The next hour was a blur of tears and warmth. They sat by the fireplace, and her mother ran her hand through her hair. Brutus stepped outside for some privacy.
When he left, Prim couldn't help but ask: "So... you and Brutus? I mean, he promised to check up on you, but I wasn't sure he'd actually do it. But he's here, and well," Prim stopped for a moment, unsure how to word what she wanted to say, "so are you."
Alive, cognizant, vibrant—everything she wanted at one point.
Her mother took a long time to answer. When she did, her words walked over glass.
"I'm not sure when he came. I have no memory. The last conscious thing I remember was you not coming in from seeing Gale."She trailed off, "The baker found me wandering in the snow. And then the days turned dark with no notice or sign. I thought you were lost somewhere, or... several days later the news came. And I thought you wanted to go. I thought you ran off."
"Were you angry?"
Did you believe I abandoned you?
Her mother hesitated.
"I couldn't understand why you'd leave. It plagued me," her hand gripped Prim's tighter, "He killed Katniss, and the thought that you would willingly leave my house for his..."
"Is it better now that you know I didn't want to be with him?"
Prim's mother took both her hands and put them on either side of Prim's face, cradling it.
"My sweet baby," she said, "It's worse. I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry."
Her whole life she had wanted an apology from her mother. She abandoned them at the most crucial parts of their lives. Katniss became her mother, protector, and provider. She grew to not need her own mother, and even though the hugs and tears felt good, they also felt stilted and out of place.
"Are you and Brutus a couple now?"
Inside Prim wanted to sneer at the thought. Her daughters starving to death couldn't wake her, but Brutus came waltzing in, a stranger, an outsider, and achieved what they couldn't.
Mother, did you just want a man, her mind wanted to snarl, a replacement for father? Was that what you were waiting for?
But of course she kept silent, and it was a good thing she did, for she would have regretted it. Her mother's response surprised her.
"No," she gave a small blush, "He told me he thinks I'm selfish. He told me that I don't deserve you. But he still sticks around. He doesn't let me get lost."
That caused guilt to rush through Prim. She was being vindictive and it didn't suit her spirit. Cato was rubbing off on her.
"But are you happy, mother?"
Her mother stood abruptly and brought a hand to her stomach, choking on a sob.
"How can I be happy when you are not?" Her voice broke and she crumpled, reminding Prim that she was still halfway the shell she used to be, so easily breakable. "Much of your unhappiness is my fault, and your misery has become my own."
Prim realized then what she must do. Lying did not come easy to her. Usually, a false word stuck in her throat, choking her on the way up, visibly shaking her body. Her psyche revealed all the tell-tale signs: touching her hair, nervously avoiding eye contact, stuttering like a simpleton. So it surprised her that her next words flowed so smoothly from her tongue, and it meant that she either was becoming better at lying... or there was some truth in her statements.
"And who said I'm not happy?" Prim raised herself and cradled her mother in her arms as if she was the mother and her mother the child, "True he took me, but he has been... kind in his own way. I expected far worse from him. He is a victim of the capitol like Katniss, and I, well, I believe I am starting to care for him. Maybe not love yet, but I think I have the capacity to love in time."
She stilled after she said it and almost swayed with the impact the words had on her spirit. For she believed them. Her soul began to thaw, dripping away the icicles built up from grief, a slow thaw that hinted towards spring. It hurt as it dripped.
Her mother smiled then and kissed her on both cheeks and then the brow, looking her in the eyes, "If anyone could love that creature, it would be you, my daughter."
The silence seemed to last forever.
"Time's up," a voice said. Prim turned to find Cato hidden in the shadows. His eyes flashed at her.
He had heard everything.
Several Hours Later
"And here's the master bedroom." Cato said to the camera. He turned back to Prim, who followed him, and gave a playful waggle of his eyebrows. "Our favorite room."
"Oh stop it, Cato," Prim shoved Cato's arm. Her face blushed prettily, and it wasn't contrived. She really was embarrassed when he kept mentioning suggestive things.
The camera panned around the room. It was much like Cato's room back home, except interwoven with a pale blue.
Luckily for her, Cato was a natural in front of the camera. He knew just the right thing to say and when to say it. She just stood off to the side and only spoke when asked a direct question.
Before she knew it, the interview was over, and Cato led them out. On the porch, he gripped her towards him with a smile on his face. Their eyes met, and she surprised both of them when her lips went up and briefly touched his. It was one of the first kisses initiated by Prim, and she wasn't entirely sure it was fake.
Seeing Cato's happy expression at her kiss, she almost didn't feel guilty at all.
And that made her more afraid than anything.
Later that Evening
The train lurched then started at a rumbling pace, trudging away from the train station of district 12. Neither Rory nor her mother saw her off. Madge stood next to her father with a tight expression in simple green dress that covered every inch of her skin. Prim had a moment where she thought she saw Gale in the crowd, but the train started too quickly for her to get a good look. And then she convinced herself it was a hallucination.
Prim stared out the window until the trees melted into a canvas of colors swirling together. Only then did she sigh and look away.
Prim tried to hide her grief. She tried to deny the reason for her depression, but it was useless. She knew exactly what she expected from the trip.
She wished for it to be a lie. Even Cato himself admitted to be a liar.
Why then was he not there? Gale was supposed to be her hero, her savior. She had fully expected him to barge his way through the crowds, fight for her honor and smuggle her away. Along with the grief came anger.
He promised, didn't he? Gale promised to keep her safe, especially from Cato. How could he go and die and leave her to fend for herself against the monsters of the night?
Two hands covered her eyes and she startled. Her reflexes sucked, so instead of fight or flight, she just gave a little, "oh", of surprise and jumped, sending her sprawling backwards into the arms of her captor. The wall of muscle kept her upright, as did the hands clamping her eyes shut. Her lids struggled to open, attempting to make sense of the darkness and flashings of bright color.
What was Cato up to?
Instead of criticizing her lack of survival response, Cato whispered in her ear: "Don't try to peek. I have a surprise for you."
And though every instinct in her body stood upright, her curiosity trumped her wariness.
"This way," he said, and he stepped forward. Even if she didn't want to, his gait forced her to step as well. Eventually, they stepped in time together, finding a rhythm where they didn't step on each other's feet or knock legs. "Turn right."
They ended at a doorway.
"Now open the door."
Prim hesitated then reached a hand out, grasping empty air until her hand hit the door. Her knuckles rapped against the wood, moving down and across until she found the knob. It was cold as snow under her fingertips. She twisted and pushed, the door creaking as it went.
It was odd how the absence of one sense amplified the others. The cold of the door, the heat of his hands, the smell of mountains and bourbon, the whoosh of his breath next to her ears. The breath made the wisps of her hair shiver against her skin. It oddly made her think of peace, though the man who held her was made of war.
Prim wondered what the empty space in front of her. What could Cato surprise her with that she'd actually want to be surprised with? Despite herself, her anxiousness morphed into a thrill of excitement at the unknown.
The hands left her face, but the lips next to her ear didn't. They whispered gently into her ear.
"Open your eyes."
She obeyed, and looked around to find... nothing.
An ordinary room stared back at her. Deep red curtains dripped from the windows, a matching coverlet swallowing a bed. The carpet was thick and brown, but there was nothing else.
Prim twisted to look at Cato, raising an eyebrow.
Cato looked put out: "Damn that thing. Where'd it go?"
He moved from behind her and paced around the room, looking in crevices and corners. Finally he looked under the bed. It was almost comical, him struggling under the bed, half his body disappearing under the frame before he exclaimed and cursed loudly.
"Fuck you, you little shit!"
What in the world?
She warred between laughing out loud and asking if he wanted help, but in the end she did neither, for her breath left her body and then whooshed back in, a giant current of living energy that paralyzed her.
In Cato's arms, he held a squirming, living ball of fur.
And not just any ball of fur, but a certain one named Buttercup, all orange and brown as she remembered him. His claws extended, wrapping around the arm that held him, digging into flesh, a scowl on his face and a hiss in his throat.
She whispered the cat's name. And it noticed her.
Cato held the cat by the scruff of his neck, but upon hearing his name, the animal increased his struggle giving a violent swipe at his face. It found it's mark, leaving a dewy red scratch down Cato's face.
Cato swore again and dropped the animal. It landed upright and bolted towards Prim. She scooped him up, cuddling him to her body, despite the fact his mangy fur hadn't been washed since he had last seen her. Tangles knotted themselves into clumps, and dirt and leaves got tied up as well. But he was alive and well, and it didn't look as if he lost any weight either. Fat as ever! She kissed his smushed face over and over.
Tears streamed down her face, and she buried her face in the dirty fur. Buttercup purred with the attention. She wasn't sure how long she stood there weeping, until Cato talked.
"I never thought I'd ever be jealous of a fucking cat."
Cato walked forward and attempted to pet the top of Buttercup's head, but as the hand inched forward, the cat gave a ferocious yowl and swung a sharpened paw, almost finding its mark. Cato withdrew his hand as if he touched a hot pan and scowled back.
"Little bastard."
Prim didn't apologize for her cat's behavior. It was obvious he had good taste in character.
"That is the ugliest animal I have ever seen."
Prim covered the poor animal's ears and sniffed the air.
"Don't listen to him, Buttercup. You're beautiful to me."
Cato snorted.
"I hope you don't mind that I left the goat for your mother. She liked the dumb thing, and it gives them fresh milk."
Prim wasn't sure how to express the emotion bubbling up in her body, a manic happiness. She nodded dumbly. If had been Rory, she would have already grabbed him up in a hug. But this new kindness from him was unexpected and raw, still tentative, a single stand connecting them. From here it could either be broken, or he could weave in a few more strands to strengthen it.
In the absence of words, she rocked on her heels and kept her face buried in Buttercup's fur, hiding a smile from the world.
Cato shifted his weight and placed a hand at the back of his neck, as if unsure what to do next. Without an argument between them, he seemed lost.
Trying to busy himself, Cato shifted his attention to a side mirror. He stretched the skin on his face and arms to look at it better. Stripes crisscrossed his exposed skin, puckered and bloodied. It was Cato vs. a Kitty cat, and the kitty cat won many a battle.
His eyes flicked up in the mirror, watching her watching him, and his lips quirked in a roughish half-smile.
"Do I get a thank you for my battle wounds?"
An image of Cato stalking Buttercup around her shack, getting scratched and bloodied, the air filled with the worst curses in humanity made her unusually happy. It wasn't everyday Cato met his match.
"Thank you," Prim whispered. She infused as much sincerity in it as she could, but it still came off weaker than intended.
The smile still tugged at his lips, his eyes playful.
"I'll be honest, that wasn't the type of thank you I was hoping for," his eyebrow raised as well, trying to get across his meaning, and posing a direct challenge, "I guess kindness doesn't get its just rewards."
It was manipulation. Blatant manipulation. And for a moment, with his eyes shining and bright, the room cozy and accepting, and her cat curled and purring, she decided she didn't care. In fact, it made a thrill buzz through her, like liquid bubbling and popping.
"No," she said and walked forward, placing the cat on the ground, she stood and grabbed his face in her hands. Despite the fact he practically asked for it, he still startled backwards with wide eyes, as if surprised she ever made a move, "This is your reward."
And she kissed him. Long, deep, and hard. Their legs knocked together as he shuffled backwards, pulling her towards him and landing on the bed. She did not resist. Her soft sighs encouraged him, as they tumbled together. They kissed like it was their first time, locking hands, touching each other's faces. Cato kept his eyes open, and Prim's briefly let hers flutter closed, then opening them to slits, letting the world filter out to small points.
"Now this is what I'd hoped for," he mumbled against her lips, pulling her underneath him. She attempted to dull the spark in her heart, but it flared anyway.
The forgotten cat crawled under the bed.
And it wasn't until later that Prim realized it had been the first time she kissed him on her own accord, without Capitol cameras and completely on her own free will.
By the tenderness from Cato, she knew he realized this as well.
Five Days Later
It had been three days. Three damn days, and Cato was nowhere to be seen. She tried to contain her anger, but it overcame her anyway.
Here's the scene of him leaving, just two days after arriving home from district 12:
She caught him going out the house. She usually wouldn't think much of it, because sometimes he walked out to take runs in the woods or going fishing in the river outside the house, but today was different. He held a bag under his arm with a grim face.
And she just knew. She just knew he was going on one of his mysterious sabbaticals. Despite telling herself not to care, her chest labored. Where he went was nowhere good. He didn't have to tell her the truth for her to dissect the reality on his face.
"Where are you going?" She asked from the stair. She didn't yell, not having the energy for such things anymore, but her grip on the stair rail tightened.
Cato stilled halfway past the doorframe. He did not turn around, nor did he answer right away. They stood that way frozen.
"I'll be gone for a few days. Don't wait up or anything."
"Where are you going?"
He stilled again.
"Here and there." He did not turn around.
"And where is that exactly? Pinpoint it on a map. Here and there still have a place."
He sighed.
"It probably won't be long this time." He left her without answers on the doorsteps. She stood there for a long time, troubled by the pounding of her heart, the tightness of her chest.
These new reactions worried her, and she wondered when they manifested. Was it when he gave her Buttercup? Or was it before? Regardless, it was new and it made her feel vulnerable.
In the end, she stood, and her anger getting the best of her, she took off her shoe, tempered a scream by biting her tongue, and threw her shoe at the door.
It crashed and fell, not making her feel any better.
Three Days Later
The anger and nervous energy did not dissipate, instead it rose and rose and it spilled until it reached her fingertips.
Three days later and she had to do something. If she hovered around the front door any longer she'd go insane. In her state, even Coral began to annoy her.
It was around this time, as she paced and tried to sort through her complicated emotions that an idea came back to her.
And it made her smile.
Let's see if he leaves me alone like this again. Her rare vindictive side took pleasure in this thought.