DRABBLE NUMBER: 3
PROMPT: Frightened
TITLE: We'll Be Okay
GENRE: Angst
FIC SUMMARY: Clove has a nightmare about a very specific event from the Arena that her husband feels especially guilty for putting her through.
RATING: Teen
WORD COUNT: 1866

Cato was abruptly dragged out of his sleep when his wife kicked him in her sleep, tossing her body around in the bed they shared. His first thought was kicking her back, but he knew that it would do no good, especially when she was in that state. She was dreaming, Cato knew, or more correctly, having a nightmare. Her tossing and turning at night was something he was used to by now, but it wasn't often he could guess where it lead.

Often she would toss and turn all night, and that was all she would do until 5am when she wasn't able to sleep anymore. Other times she would wake up with a start, sit up in bed and look around her with wide eyes, before realizing where she was and that there was no danger. But some times, Clove would have nightmares so bad she wasn't able to tell reality from her mind once she woke up. Then she would scream and try fight him until he could eventually calm her down enough for her to see that he wasn't a threat.

He watched her through narrow, tired slits for a while, seeing the deep frown on her forehead and the way her mouth was set in a thin line, like he knew she always did when she was trying not to be scared. Even in her sleep, Clove was trying to fight the feeling of being afraid, and it was one of the many things Cato had to admire about his stubborn wife.

Cato eyed her suspiciously still, wanting to believe that this were one of those nightmares that didn't frighten her so badly she woke up, but he was starting to highly doubt it from her violent movements. He moved to wake her up, hoping calming her down wouldn't be a long affair because Cato really felt like going back to sleep. Though the second his hand clasped around her wrist, her eyes snapped open and before he could say anything soothing at all, a blood-curdling scream was leaving her mouth.

She desperately tried to get out of the grip, and as Cato went to grab her other wrist, her screaming only got louder. "Clove!" he shouted at her, trying to get her to hear him over her deafening shrieking, but had no luck getting through to her.

She was thrashing badly against him, trying to get loose. Cato couldn't see her eyes very well with how much she was moving, but he saw enough to know she was lost in her own mind. Clove was awake, but her mind was still in the nightmare that was one of the many that had tormented her after they escaped the games.

Cato tried to restrain her further, wanting to grab her by the arms and make her look at him, make her realize that what she was thinking, and feeling, and experiencing within her head, wasn't real. But she wouldn't let him do such a thing, and managed to kick him in the stomach, her screams becoming shriller. Now there were also tears streaming down her face, and Cato was slightly stunned by the sight. The surprise along with the kick to his torso was enough for him to lose his grip on her for the slightest second, which was an opportunity Clove used to jumped out of his grip and away from him.

Though instead of jumping towards the door, she had moved further into the room, and was pressing herself into the wall. Her eyes were open wide and she looked straight at him, wildly, the look in her eyes unrecognizable and insane. Cato knew it wasn't good when it came to this, and that he had to calm her down preferably before she did something stupid.

She had stopped screaming, though her body was still shaking where she was standing by the wall, her eyes frantically searching for an escape as he came closer. "No!" she yelled, fastening her gaze on him for a couple of seconds before it flickered towards the door again.

"Clove," Cato said, his voice firm and strong, but still not angry or threatening. He stepped towards her, watching her as she was looking at him, breathing so heavily her body shook with each breath. "Come on," he told her, holding up his hands to show that he meant no harm and also holding her gaze with his, taking another step closer.

"I'm not your enemy, Clove," he said knowing that deep down they weren't, not anymore at least. The both of them tended to act like the worst of enemies during the day, but at night when they both had nightmares, Clove more often than Cato, and their pasts began to haunt them, it became very clear that they were in fact lovers, husband and wife.

He could see a flash of recognition in her eyes, and she wound up just standing there, looking at him, her position suggesting that she was still ready to fight. Eventually she broke her aggressive stand and wrapped her hands around her small form, sliding down the wall and landing softly on the floor, wrapping her hands around her knees. As she buried her face in her knees, Cato crouched down beside her, a part of him curious about her nightmare, while the other was worried and maybe even slightly scared.

Just as he was about to say something, he could see her tilt her head to look at him. She looked slightly shaken still but the thing he noticed about her now was that she seemed one hundred percent utterly pissed off, as if he had done something to her that she wasn't yet ready to forgive. Her eyes were sharp and were glittering dangerously, her cheeks were flaming red like they always were when she was furious, and her jaw was clenched tightly together.

He watched her with a slight frown on his face, about to raise his eyebrows to silently ask her what was going on. But before he could get the message across, the small girl in front of him had jumped forward and slapped him hard across the face, the sound of flesh against flesh loud in their bedroom.

Now Cato was getting angry too, if not slightly surprised, and was about to strike back. Though he stopped himself when he saw her tear-filled eyes and quivering lip, catching her wrists instead which forced her to stop her retreating and he brought her closer to him. "What was that?" he demanded loudly, the anger in his voice seemed to resound around them.

Her eyes were stubbornly holding his, and she was biting down hard on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. Cato's eyes flickered over her face, his grip so tight around her wrists he was sure she would have bruises when morning came. It took a while of their glaring, but eventually she broke the silence. "You know what," she spat at him harshly, or at least Cato knew she had meant her words to come out harsh. Though instead her voice sounded small and broken, and only a hint of her usual viciousness and pride was to be found.

But Clove was right though, he did know what. He knew exactly what her nightmare had been about now, and exactly why she had slapped him. Of course she had, he thought, she blamed him for letting Thresh almost kill her. Hell, Cato blamed himself for letting Thresh almost kill her. He hadn't had any control over the situation; it had all happened so fast and he knew that if he had been even a second late, Clove wouldn't have been there with him right now. He had promised to watch her back, and even if he had had her back, and even if he had saved her, Clove hadn't gotten over the near to death experience. Clove still hadn't gotten over how close to death she had actually been, and she kept having the same nightmares over and over.

It angered him that she thought it was his fault, especially since she had been the one insisting to kill fire girl in the first place. He glared at her, and harshly released his grip on her, throwing her away from him. "Whatever," he muttered, and stood up. Clove hit the wall but made no noise, probably not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt her. If she had only known that he didn't get the same satisfaction from hurting her as he once had.

Clove was retracting to her previous position, and wrapped her arms around her knees once again, burying her face in them. He watched her for a couple of seconds, hesitating, conflicted whether he should try to comfort his wife or not. But he was still angry with her, and with himself too and eventually decided to retreat back to the bed. Though as he laid down, his eyes never left his wife's small, shaking form. Clove was crying, he knew, and he knew how ashamed she felt because of it. Him being there, comforting her wouldn't make it any better either. It would just make her angry, he had made that mistake before and wasn't doing it again.

Cato sighed and decided to go back to sleep, closing his eyes and knowing Clove would come to bed when she was ready. Minutes passed, maybe even an hour or two before he could feel her creep into bed beside him again. He opened his eyes to look at her, and saw she was avoiding his gaze on purpose.

He had to roll his eyes at the ever so stubborn woman he had married who made a rather big number out of laying down as far away from him as possible, and then turning around so the only thing he could see was the tangle of hair on the back of her head. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes yet again, and went back to attempting to fall asleep.

It wasn't long after he had closed his eyes he could feel his wife moving beside him, inching towards him slowly. He kept his eyes closed, knowing it was easier for her to seek comfort in him if she thought he was asleep. He could feel her hesitate beside him, hearing her still frightened breath hitch slightly. Though eventually Clove put her head on his shoulder, and buried her face in his neck. Pressing her body into his, she draped her hand over his broad chest, hugging him tightly.

Cato let a small grin of triumph show on his face at her sudden change of mood, finding that he was enjoying her up close presence. His hand fell in place around her waist, squeezing her body closer to him and he could feel her body react to his, relaxing into him. Clove let out a long breath of relief, sighing in content into her husband's neck and Cato kissed the top of her head softly, breathing in his wife's scent.

"It's okay," she mumbled against him. "We'll be okay."