A/N: So sorry for not updating! I had so little inspiration and NaNoWriMo… It was a hectic month. Anyway, I am back and here to stay, and I hope you like this! I know I sure didn't… *shudders* Galeniss…
D12- 16- (Katniss Everdeen)
I slip in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of anything as tiredness and fatigue spread through me like a wildfire. Though I've slept a lot, I have gotten little rest since I first heard my mother utter the words, "The mines." I, however, do notice the eyes. They are all different than the one before, or the next one, and they're all near me when I wake up a little bit.
There are the stony, cold gray ones, filled with years of pain and loss, but they have a little bit of relief in them. They look at me, and they reflect joy, maybe just at the sight of me. Those eyes only come once, and I don't see them after they leave the first time. They are hopeless and stony and empty, but there are glimmers of feelings in there.
Then there are the sad blue ones. They are just sad, just blue. I see no joy, or rebelliousness, or anything spectacular in them, except for an abundance of love and slight worriment.
There is another set of gray eyes. They are all but scared. They are nervous. Rebellious. Caring. Loving. Warm. Hateful. Fiery. Welcoming. I recognize these eyes, the eyes I've stared into a lot before.
And then there are icy, dangerous, sharp blue eyes. They come with a pair of lips too, moving and forming words I don't quite understand. I try to reach out and grab the owner of these eyes when they are leaving, but I am too deep in sleep to move. I try to escape slumber and pull this person back, ask them what they've said, but they are gone.
This is when I awaken for real.
Cato is just about to exit through the door when I wake up and sit up a little too fast. He turns around, sees me. I force an obviously fake smile at him, and he just shakes his head a little bit and laughs. Maybe it's a chuckle, a chortle, or a guffaw. I only register that he is laughing as I yawn, stretch slightly, try to focus. My mind is here and there, searching for the eyes I never saw: the soft blue ones, the ones that I hope I will always be able to see.
"Hey," says Gale from the edge of the bed. I look away from the laughing Cato and to him. He doesn't look at me; instead, he glares at Cato. I watch them for a moment, but then Gale turns back to me. "You were out for at least twenty hours."
"I—"
"You were so tired," intones Cato as he composes himself. He shakes his head again, and a glint of giddiness lights up in his eyes. "You never fail to surprise me, Katniss Everdeen."
"What'd I do?"
"Oh, everything. Nothing. You…" He raises his eyebrows. "You volunteered."
"So?" I ask defensively, pursing my lips.
"Where would we all be, had you not done that? What if…if Prim wasn't reaped? If it was some other girl?" Cato looks deep into my eyes, and again I feel that sense of urgency that I did in my sleep to keep him here, grip him tight. "You'd be…What do you call it? You'd be in the Seam, and—who knows? Maybe it wouldn't be me going on Victory Tour. Maybe it'd be Marvel. Or Clove. Not Glimmer, though. That girl had no brains."
"Why does it have to be a Career?" I snap. "Why couldn't it have been Peeta? Or Rue? Or—or Thresh or Foxface? Or the girl who was reaped in Prim's place?"
"It could be! I just didn't know those people, Kat," Cato tells me.
"Don't call her that," Gale growls, and he stands up. "Leave. Now. Katniss wants no part of you in her life."
I stand up too. "I can speak for myself."
"She can speak for herself!" Cato repeats.
I look at him apologetically and shrug. "Go."
Cato looks around a little bit, and then he shrugs and turns away.
As soon as I am sure he is gone, out of the house, and heading to Two, I turn to Gale pleadingly. My voice low, I whisper, "Where is she?"
He moves towards me and puts his arm around me. I stare up into his gray eyes, he stares down into mine. We stare for a long time, and the hint of a smile plays on his face, the corners of his lips quirking up only slightly. I let out a small breath like a short, almost inaudible laugh, and he cocks his head slightly. "You scared me."
"How?" I ask innocently.
"When you…"
"Oh" is all I can manage. I was so vulnerable, and I hate it. The vulnerability still threatens to overwhelm me, and I hate it. I push it back easily now, but what about when I see recaps of my Games? What about when a tribute—or, most likely, two—of mine dies? What if there is a boy with ashy blonde hair and simple, kind, caring blue eyes, gorgeous like the sky? I wouldn't be able to take it. I see Peeta everywhere; watching him die again through someone else would be very painful.
How could I have been so ignorant? I so wish that I could have helped him. Saved him. But that would mean Cato would be dead. Do I want that? Would Peeta and I both have been able to live, like Cato and I did? Would all of this drama that has happened since the Games' ending have happened? Would I be sitting here, still staring mindlessly into Gale's eyes?
He leans closer, his neck bent so his faces is inches from mine, which is only a slight change, even though he is much taller than me. My chest clenches and my mind rattles; I seem to have stopped breathing, so I force out a breath. Panic like no other sets in. Is Gale—my best friend, my hunting partner, not my boyfriend—about to kiss me?
I think so.
I don't know how I feel about that.
He leans in all the way, pressing his lips to mine. I'm not sure what to do—whether to kiss back or pull away—so I just hang limp to his arms wrapped around me and let him kiss me without really doing anything. I breathe in through my nose, and a whiff of Gale fills my nose: coal dust, pine, and just Gale's smell. Eventually he pulls away. Eyes wide, I look up at him in alarm and wait for him to say something, to say anything, because I know I can't, not without my voice cracking or just not coming out, and I am hanging by a thread as it is.
"I'm sorry, I had to," Gale says quietly. "I had to."
I've never kissed a boy before. Not Cato, not Peeta—now Gale. Gale Hawthorne, my best friend. More? Is he more than that now? By the tone of his voice, I can tell he definitely thinks we're not, but I don't know, and I am furious at him for flinging this at me when I have Prim, and the Victory Tour, and Cato, and now I have to think about this and what I want and what to do and what Gale wants…
"I, uh…"
He shakes his head. "Don't." Gale sighs. "Stop it. If you— If we… If you don't… Just, don't only please me. Do what you want to do, Catnip."
"I… Gale, I don't know! How— What am I supposed to do?" I spit out, confused.
"What do you mean?" he snaps back.
"You know I am lost as it is, Gale. I don't know where to put this."
"Put it in your brain. Then tell me what you think."
"I thinkI don't know what to think," I admit.
"What do you want me to do - tell you what to think?" Gale asks me angrily.
I cross my arms. "Let me think, will you?"
I still don't know. There's a giant THIS IS GALE sense, but also a This is right sense. I don't know which to give in to, which I want to give in to.
Actually, no. It is not right. It will never be right. We will always be best friends, and Gale and I are no more. As long as I am still a victor and Peeta still haunts me and every dead face haunts me, I will never, ever, ever be with Gale. It's not right. Not right. Not right. It pains me to come to the realization, but it's true. It's so, so true, and it's so, so awful.
But I kiss him back anyway.
D2- 17- (Cato Allens)
The train ride back to Two is long and agonizing. I haven't seen my family in so long, and I can't wait, but I also don't want to see them. I don't want to see the disappointed look on my mother's face as she scolds me for the longing in my eyes only she would recognize when I looked at Katniss. I don't want my father to scold me for my weakness. I don't want to walk in there and watch the rest of them see a dead man entering the room.
That's what I am supposed to be, isn't it? I am a walking dead man, and it's such an odd thing to know that I shy away from this thought and scoot out of the train. Everyone cheers. I push past the crowd after a few "Hello's" and a lot of handshaking. There are even a few who request my autograph. I smile and sign their arms, their shirts, notepads. This is the norm for Career victors.
Back at home, I have to knock on the door. It is locked.
My little sister Artemis opens the door. She stares at me, almost awestruck.
I am a dead man, I think. That's what she sees her big brother as.
She steps aside and utters, "Come in," as if it weren't my home, this Victors' Village house. I go in the house and make my way to the living room, where my younger brothers, Apollo and Ephraim are watching TV with my parents. My older brother Icarus is waiting for me, sitting on the old-fashioned chair by the edge of the door.
He smiles at my proudly. "Hello, Cato," he says formally, and shakes my hand. "Congratulations."
"What's up with the rest of them?" I wonder aloud.
Icarus shrugs. "Don't mind them."
"No, seriously, what did I do?" I ask persistently, and Icarus sighs, shrugging.
Apollo and Ephraim are looking over at me, almost scared, and so is Artemis, but Mother and Father are still looking at the TV, glued to it. Icarus lowers his voice and says, "Come on." He takes me past the living room and into a study-like room, shutting the door behind him. He shakes his head immediately. "It's stupid, really. Dad thinks you didn't…didn't really win. That it was 'that girl.'"
"I didn't," I almost mutter, but then I stop myself. Icarus is very persuasive. If he believes it was all me who won, maybe her can get the rest of my family to think that too, and then we can all go back to normal; only, everyone will be a little more proud than me, I will be a dead man, and Katniss will haunt me. I long for the surprises she throws at me, but at the same time, I'm glad to not be apart of the world of Katniss right now.
"That's stupid," I say, repeating my brother.
"It is," says Icarus, rolling his eyes.
We nod. It's a deal, though unsaid—Icarus will convince them, and I will mention him somehow in some district, one with plenty of coverage, lots of cameras. Enthusiasts. Dreamers. People who honestly love me. The Victory Tour will go to all districts since I need to go to Twelve and Katniss needs to go to Two, so I suppose it's either here or the Capitol that I'll work up my angle, thank my brother, Icarus Allens, and the rest of my…"ever so loving" family.
We leave the room and I say hello to my family.
Ephraim smiles. He's always admired me. It's a step in the right direction.
Apollo looks up.
Artemis looks at our parents questioningly.
My parents don't acknowledge my existence.
Anger bubbles up in me. I am a Career, no matter what, always. I enjoy the pain and the torture, even though I have a new respect for not killing people—slightly. If it weren't for the fact that I need to keep in good tabs with Katniss, I would still be pretty much the same old Career. I have a short fuse. I am easily angered, and everyone, anyone, everything, anything…it can all make me furious.
"Icarus," I say gruffly, trying not to speak through gritted teeth. "Take the little kids outside."
He nods and they shuffle out of the house. Once I hear the front door close behind them, I step over to the television and showily shut it off, and then turn straightforwardly to face my parents, glaring at them like no one has ever glared—not even Clove or Katniss or Haymitch. Not even Gale, who has given me some pretty intense glares, and I think I know why.
"You guys," I spit huffily, "are ridiculous! Your son is home! He's a glorious victor! So what the hell are you doing—ignoring me and just…brainwashing my siblings to hate me? I came back for you. I went in for you. I brought pride to you. Be grateful or get the hell out."
"Oh, Cato," mutters my father. "This is exactly why you…you…"
"I fucking died, okay?" I snarl angrily.
"Yes. You…you had to perturb everyone. Your life wasn't complete unless you had an enemy, someone to spit at," he continues.
I think I might get it now. "Had to," "wasn't complete." He's talking about me in past tense, not present tense. Unless he thinks I've changed—which, honestly, isn't true; having someone to one-up and anger is reassuring, and the fact that right now my only possible choices are blood or are in an entirely different district perturbs me.
"I am not in the past," I snap.
"Oh, but, Cato," my mother says sympathetically, resting a hand on my shoulder, "you are no more than simply undead. You were brought back from death, and it's a little hard to not think—"
"Natalia!" hisses my father.
She nods. She yanks her hand back. "It's a bit too unreal, dear."
"Son," Father starts uncomfortably. "I don't—you see—this is all a ploy. You aren't…you aren't the same young man I sent off. I think—I thought you'd be living in Twelve."
"I'm not. This is my house."
"We'll be going home. This was only a welcome-home party. I am sorry, Son. Forgive me if I have this all wrong. You did not win. You are a disgrace. Goodbye." He turns away and begins to walk out, but my mother's eyes linger for just a little longer, and then she leaves. Minutes later, Ephraim and Icarus are standing before me. Artemis and Apollo, twins, are only eight, so Mother and Father control them, but Ephraim is fifteen and does what he wants, and Icarus lives with his wife at age twenty-four; he is on his own.
I turn eighteen next month. Once I am eighteen, I know, I am free and willing to never speak to my parents ever again.
"Dude," Ephraim says, shaking his head. "That's…wow. I completely eavesdropped, and you know, their reasoning is stupid, and the way you just slapped that right in their face was epic. And you know, that girl was not just the reason you won. But she was pretty, uh—"
"Yeah, don't finish that," I tell him uneasily, for we may have to play the angle of lovers—who knows? maybe we'll even become lovers—and so I want to make sure they are not surprised or uncomfortable if they ever see me with Katniss in my arms, or my lips glued to hers, or me down on one knee, live, before her, without even knowing I like her. So subtle hints is nice. It's good, for now, that acting is of utmost importance to pre-Games trainers. Later on, my acting might get a bit too good. If I truly don't end up liking Katniss, I don't want to be stuck with her forever.
"Got it." Ephraim nods and smiles immaturely, wiggling his eyebrows. "So, what's with her? Seems like just a poor, starving girl who got lucky."
"She's not," I hiss instinctively, because she is not just that. I appreciate her, and I respect her, and I know her, and she is not just a lucky weakling. She is strong and brave and generally smart.
"Oh-oh-oh," says Apollo, whistling.
I roll my eyes. "No more, Apollo. Not about Katniss."
"Katniss Allens," he says, smirking. "Sounds nice, doesn't it, Icarus?"
"I'm not getting into this," Icarus tells Apollo. "Pick on him all you like. I'm out."
"Later, then," says Apollo.
"I'm leaving in two days for the Tour, don't forget, Icarus," I inform, and Icarus nods and heads out into the wintry scene.
Apollo shrugs and leaves also. And here I am, with a family that hates me, and the only friend who will sit and talk with me because I am me and not a victor in Twelve. It's pathetic, especially for a District Two Career victor.
But still, I won.
A/N: And Cato's family reveals themselves at last!
