Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

So I know I haven't updated this in a while...like a year to be exact. But hey, better late than never right? Haha... Yeah no, I apologize about the delay...

A cold wind swept its way into the cavern. Peeta could barely tell what time it was. With all the power the Gamemakers have, they could make it seem like 3 in the morning, but it could easily be 7 at night in 12. Whatever it was, it certainly felt like 3.

Another cold wind flowed and seemingly devoured Peeta's body, forcing the boy to shiver.

"You okay?" A sweet voice that was once so vicious asked. Every night for the past week Cato had insisted he sleep next to the boy. It was weird to Peeta, seeing the brutes transition. It was more than just keeping him safe to hunt him down and both of the boys knew his leg was almost in walking condition. But everyday, ever since the first night after the kiss, Cato helped him walk around in their little cave to get his leg stronger. He'd catch Peeta when he fell, and walk by his side lending an arm.

"Yeah, I'm good." Peeta nodded and snuggled back into the boys chest. How could this be happening? Peeta questioned. What's really going on? Why won't he ever say anything? Why hasn't he back stabbed me yet? At every turn there was another question, and too many answers that branched off into streets. Exploring this ended up looking like the Capitol. Too many turns and too many people.

"No, I'm not okay." Peeta restated. "I need to know what's going on? Ever since we-," Peeta's gaze met his, and then flashbacks reoccurred in his mind of Cato thrashing his sword into the ground and yelling at Peeta. "kissed. You've been so bipolar. Yelling at me, almost stabbing me... again, then you cuddle with me at night, make sure I'm 'okay' and help me walk?"

"It's not cuddling." The taller boy retorted. "If you don't want me to help you that's fine. That kiss meant nothing. How many times do I have to tell-,"

Lips.

Soft.

Warm.

Yet charming.

Comforting almost.

Met Cato's.

Hands grasped the back of Peeta's neck, and to his surprise, Cato kissed back. Once.

"Fine." A single word came from Cato. It was lonely, wandering off into silence. In just that one word Cato had accepted defeat. It was so simple to beat him, but yet Peeta felt a kind of emptiness. There was much more to this. "Maybe it did mean something." There was pain behind his words. A soft sniffle.

"Look. I know we would just be begging to have a target on our backs, but do you want to make a fire in here and just...talk?" Peeta asked him. However, Cato didn't give any verbal response. Instead, he let his hand cup Peeta's cheek and moved his thumb lightly back and forth.

Over the next 10 or so minutes Cato had done exactly what Peeta wanted him to do. He built the fire in the cavern and even went out of his way to at least cover the entrance with some foliage. It wouldn't last forever but at least the fire wouldn't kill them instantly, seeing as how it could still escape through cracks in the ceiling.

"Tell me." Peeta said. "What is it about me that makes you tick?"

"It's not just about you. It's everything." Cato looked up at Peeta in a very vulnerable state. His eyes still showed signs of weakness, about to burst at any moment. "Do you really want to know everything?"

It was a loaded question. Yes, Peeta wanted to know everything, including why he seems mentally unstable, but what exactly was everything?

"Yes." Peeta nodded sitting down by the fire.

"Okay." Cato took a deep breath, and stripped down to his t-shirt and pants. "Everything." He stated again, and sat down at the opposite end of the fire. "Growing up, I knew that I had to go into these games one day. My parents told me everyday about how proud they were going to be when one day their little victor would come home. I was going to bring back pride and riches to our family. That's all they ever wanted for me. From me, I should say." Cato stared deeply at the fire as if it was replaying his childhood. "But It's definitely not what I wanted at all. I was swarmed with people day by day. Every day more would come because my parents would spread the news. They were suppose to motivate me. But instead they only brought me down. I couldn't go out with anybody or I'd get swarmed. Hell, I couldn't talk to anyone because I was constantly swarmed. And I was only 8." His hand slowly grabbed onto his hair. "This wasn't the life I wanted. I wanted to grow up, and be happy, maybe get a wife and kids. Raise them my way, to have free will. I'd be the opposite of my parents." Then his gaze dropped to his feet. "All that publicity and paparazzi, and I still managed to feel alone." He let another deep breath escape him. "Later on I realized that I didn't like girls like I was supposed to. My dad always made sure to remind me that I had to carry on the family name, I had to come back from these games and marry the woman of their dreams." He threw a rock aggressively to the ground. "When do I get to start dreaming for myself?" He sniffles again and wiped his nose. "Maybe I don't want a wife, maybe I don't even want to carry on the family name, maybe I just want to live my own god damn life! Is that so hard to understand?" Cato breathed deep again, realizing he was starting to lose his temper. "They forced me to take martial art, signed me up for gymnastic courses, archery classes, anything they could think of. They practically engineered me to be the perfect son. But I don't think they realized how much trauma they put me through. Everyday I'd come home from maybe 6 or 7 hours of straight training and they would still criticize me. 'Why isn't your elbow straight?' 'How come your arrow didn't hit dead center on his head?' 'Maybe if you exercised a little you could have landed that dismount' and they never stopped coming. One day, I met this guy. His name was Troy. We hung out a couple of times, and did a little bit more than just talk." A slight smile crossed his face at the very memory. "We talked about how we would run away together before the games and maybe escape over seas. We didn't need district 2. I remember it was Valentines Day when he first told me he loved me." A small tear escaped Cato's eye. "Then..." His smile quickly disappeared "my father sent a guy to 'take care' of him. The next day. I found out he was-," Cato chocked back a little sob. "beaten to death. And my father, the bastard." Cato's glare burned even through the fire. "He refused to let me go to the funeral. 'I had training that I needed to do'. I tried to tell him that Troy was my closest friend, but he wouldn't listen to reason. That was when he told me, his exact words were 'You don't need a boy. Especially a good-for-nothing rodent like Troy. How about you find yourself a nice girl? Like Clove.' When do I get to start dreaming for myself?" Cato restated wiping more and more tears off his face. "Then the games came. I volunteered, if not to win, then at least I wouldn't have to come back home to hell right?" He gave a very sarcastic laugh. "So we started training, I made enemies, I made allies. That was when I saw you. You reminded me of Troy." Cato looked across the fire to Peeta, this time letting a tear cascade to the ground on its own. "At first I was happy, then sad, then angry, then confused. Why did it have to be him instead of me?" Cato shoved his face into his hands. "When do I get to start dreaming? Huh?" An angry growl erupted from him. All the pent up anger being gathered over the past few years were driving Cato over the edge. He was being tortured, and there was nothing he could do about it. "The night before the games started I went to the medicine cabinet in our living quarters. I had to make sure Clove didn't hear." He wasn't proud of what he had done, the pain was over baring to him. He was struggling to keep telling the story. "I grabbed a case of medication. They never told us what it was, only that we could take 2 per day. So I popped out every single one in the tray. I was going to die anyway right?" The boy chuckled at his own torment. "I swallowed to first one, just to take in what was going on, all of the goodbye's I was about to miss, all of the hello's I would never say, the love I thought I would never regain. I talked to Troy as if he were there with me. I knew how disappointed he would be in me, but it's not like that's a change from anything else." The taller blond got up, and slowly relived the memory. Every painful detail. "Then I took the rest down all at once, I accepted that I was about to pass. My time here was done. I couldn't disappoint anyone else ever again..." Now Peeta felt hot burning tears in his eyes. "Except myself. I chocked on the second one." Cato's once cold hearted and cunning eyes looked into Peeta's soft ones. This time they were filled with pain and sorrow. "So tell me. Why couldn't I just start dreaming?"

Peeta's heart sank and he felt a lump in his throat. The pain Cato had gone through was more than Peeta could have imagined. At least back in 12 his parents loved him.

"Cato. I had no idea." Peeta stood up and hugged the Career. A pair of arms happily accepted Peeta and wrapped around his waste. He could feel tears of a once great warrior...no, a still great warrior, pour onto his shoulder.

"How come everything I touch dies?" Cato asked in pain. "Why can't I ever just find something I care about? How come I'm not strong enough to ever protect it? I should have been with him damn it!" His hands clutched on to Peeta, and they weren't about to let him go. But Peeta didn't want to escape.

"It's okay. You have me now. Open up your heart. Let me in." Peeta looked him in the eye. In that moment Peeta knew that he had to protect Cato too.

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