Here is the third chapter. I thought I would post it since I finished it and thought you all might like to see how Cato is doing. I know you all are just waiting for them to be reunited and I promise it will be soon. Another chapter or two, but I wont tell you when. The wait makes the reunion that much better, right?

Here is a breakdown of the timeline:

Moments of Change took place over three weeks from mid-September to the first week of October.

Burning Down begins three months later in January. The Victory Tour is placed half way between the Hunger Games in mid-March. The Quarter Quell then starts in September again.

Ch. 3- Broken Craving

"You failed the name of this family! The very least you can do is renounce your ties to him! It's time to start making amends."

Cato's father was in another one of his moods. Ever since Cato had been forced to return to District 2 he has had to endure the inconsistent wrath of his father. Sometimes Cato would go weeks with out speaking more than a few words with him and others he would endure constant attacks and verbose tirades from his father, the Victor of the 53rd Hunger Games. Today was one of those days.

"Oh really father? And how should I go about that? Kiss the ass of the Mayor; send gift baskets to the President? You'll never get me to regret my decisions!" Cato shouted back, feeling that growing irascible mood in him rise up like a dog provoked.

Mr. Ryves had picked a new tactic recently. He was not just beating up on his son for failing to bring honor to the family name by being the sole victor. No, now he was accusing him of allying himself with a traitor and that he needed to begin to turn the opinions of those in District 2 back in favor of the family and recommit himself to the Capitol.

"You will show me some respect when you talk to me, child. And you know very well that by continuing to talk to that boy you are aligning yourself with his seditious and subversive behavior and in turn tarnishing this family's hard earned name. We support the Capitol in this household and this district!" Mr. Ryves was so worked up spittle was flying from his mouth and a vein on his temple was pulsating angrily. Cato shared many traits with his father; most people could immediately recognize them as family while when he was with his mother it was harder to tell. She had red hair, which his sister had inherited, and a petite frame. Cato had his father's blonde hair, tall stature and muscular build. The only difference was his father's age was beginning to show as his blonde hair was peppered with grays and his crow's feet grew deeper with each passing day. Right now they were severely creased as he frowned in his fight with Cato.

"It's not about supporting or defying anyone, sir. I love him and I will not abandon him." Cato sneered in mock respect. He couldn't respect anyone who talked about Peeta that way.

Cato's father pushed away from the table where he was eating breakfast with a loud scrape of the chair as he stood to his full height. But it lacked the effect it had when Cato was a child because they were the same height now. That didn't stop his dad from invading Cato's personal space.

"How did I raise such a weak fool?" He growled, bearing his clenched teeth.

Cato visibly bristled at the insult. He felt his mind clouding from the hate that was taking over. He might have been literally seeing red. "You didn't. Fortunately I was saved from becoming the sadistic murderer you were in the games!"

There faces were inches apart and it seemed as if they would come to blows at any moment, but they were interrupted by Cassadine as she flounced down the stairs, her beautiful orange-red hair done up in corkscrew pigtails that bounced with each step of her descent. She was wearing her usual bright pink dress coat and matching pink boots that Cato had bought her from the local Capitol themed shop. Pink was her favorite color at the moment.

"Enough you two! Papa give me a kiss, I'm off to school! Cato, walk me," She ordered them and both listened. Cato backed down and tried to focus on his breathing to relax his tensed muscles. They felt like steel underneath his flesh. There had never been violence in his family, but he was afraid he was on the verge of breaking that barrier and striking his father down. He was finding it harder to keep his calm anymore. The fuse to light his temper became shorter with each passing day.

Meanwhile his father begrudgingly seated himself having backed down from the fight as well. Cassadine was the only bright spot in this family for Cato and he doted on her fiercely so he made sure to let his blood pressure fall into a normal range for her sake. She was also her daddies little angel and probably his only redeeming quality. She had their father tightly wrapped around her freckled finger.

Mr. Ryves leaned over to kiss his young daughter and then looked daggers at Cato, daring him to defy him again. Cassadine then skipped over to the other side of the table where their mother sat. One might think she almost wasn't part of this family the way she refrained from involving herself in their lives or deigning to acknowledge their presence. She usually ate her morning grapefruit in silence and then filed her nails or polished the jewelry she would wear that day. Appearance and money were the loves of her life. Cato just shook his head at his fucked up parents and took his sisters outstretched hand. She was certainly demanding, but it was to be expected with the way the family spoiled her and Cato knew it wouldn't stop anytime soon.

They stepped out onto Victors Row and it was a bustling scene. Avoxes were in the process of expanding the street with ten new houses, as the Victors Village would soon be filled up if anymore District 2 tributes won the games. Cato had received one of the last houses on the stretch and he occupied it alone, not wishing to live under his father's roof anymore. But it was noisy as the Avoxes constructed the new homes, their loud hammers and drills usually awakening him at sunrise. But he didn't mind as it got him up in time to walk his sister to school. Not living at home meant he got to see her less and he desperately wanted to keep his presence in her life. Everything else had been going to shit and he couldn't let the same happen to Cassy. He wanted to try and keep some semblance of consistency in her life.

It was frosty outside and a fresh snow the night before had coated the peak of the Nut off in the distance. Cassy buttoned the top of her coat against the intrusive cold as Cato bent down to help her put on her satin pink gloves. Her pink ensemble and fiery hair caused her to pop, much like her personality, against the backdrop of the grey stone pavement and white snow coated roofs.

"Cato I can put on my own gloves," She stated simply. "Andwill you and Papa ever be nice?"

He sighed as he stood back up. He hated fighting in her presence. But he couldn't stand it, not anymore. The separation from Peeta had been wearing down his patience and he snapped at the littlest annoyance. It was like he were a sling shot being stretched back further and further. He wasn't sure how much slack he had left before he snapped back forward launching his projectile of hate that was bubbling in his veins.

"I'm sorry you saw that Cassy. You know we've never got along well."

"It's because your grouchy you haven't seen Peeta in like forever. But I've been counting the days down on my calendar and it's only six more weeks until the tour starts!" She smiled at him helpfully and he laughed. He loved that she was counting down the days just as anxiously as he. "I want to be the first to meet him. Okay? Not even Mommy or Papa or the Mayor!"

"Deal." Cato grinned at his sister's demands.

They walked in silence for a little longer and Cato noticed Enobaria was watching him from the window of her house as they walked by. Her black hair was cropped close to her head and he could see just the edges of her sharp teeth capped in gold at the points. Cato vividly remembered meeting her once at the Academy when she came to share her experiences in the game and how she lost her temper with one of the classes lowest achieving students during her training exercise. She had berated him unjustly and then when he was fed up and made the mistake of talking back she had seized his hand and bit off his index finger. After that Cato had worked extra hard to prove himself at the academy and suppress any emotions. He had to be like her, vicious and sadistic if he wanted to survive the games and bring glory to his family. But now that he had returned and seen the games for what they were he saw the monster she really was. He tugged Cassy's hand back into his and sped past Enobaria's home.

"Do you think they will let you live together after the tour?" Cassy asked.

He had been lost in his own thoughts and memories he wasn't sure what she was asking at first. "Oh, um… I really hope so Cassy. Its like a piece of me is missing and every morning I wake up hoping to find it filled, but it's only grown bigger."

"I'll fight them if they try to take him from you again!" She karate kicked the air trying to show him her skills.

He laughed and then pulled her hand up until she was lifted off the ground, then gripping her with both arms and he swung her around in circles before giving her a tight bear hug. She squealed in surprise and then hugged him back, giving him one peck on the cheek.

"Love you Cassy. Now lets get you to class!" He took off running with her chasing behind him.

After he had dropped her off at the school building near downtown he began to wonder the stone paved streets of the town center. Most buildings were built from smooth white and grey stone that they received from their own quarries. Usually the districts never got to enjoy the products they made for the Capitol, but being a Career district gave them privileges, like using the surplus stone for their construction, giving District 2 a much more modern look than probably most other Districts could afford (besides 1).

As he made his way through the streets he endured the customary attention he received whenever he was in public. He walked a fine line between reverence and disdain. He felt as if he were treading a tightrope, it was a constant balancing act yet he wasn't in control of which way he tipped. The audience held that power. Some were just curious of the victor from 2 that fell in love with a fellow tribute from 12 and managed to change the rules of the game. They usually gawked at him openly. Then there were those that secretly respected his actions, they usually were the quarry workers that received the least preferential treatment in the district and suffered most. They supported Peeta's actions against the Capitol and in turn respected Cato. They typically watched him with furtive glances afraid to openly support him. He found those people to be the least bothersome.

Then there were those that found him to be an affront to the values of their district. He had failed to be the strongest in the games by not being the only victor and they thought Peeta was openly inciting rebellion. Cato's relationship with him made him a de facto traitor. They usually glared, bumped into him or outright confronted him for his actions, like his father had done this morning. It was ironic too because Cato wasn't the hero. He didn't want to take on the Capitol or become a champion for the oppressed out of the goodwill of his heart. He just wanted Peeta and would do whatever it took. He killed in the games with out a second thought and would again where as Peeta still agonized over the life he took defending Cato. Cato tried to refrain from becoming violent, but he was finding it harder with each passing day. Forces were conspiring to make him the brute he used to wear as a mask and he craved Peeta's calming nature. He was the only person who knew how to draw Cato out from the monstrous façade he wore.

Probably making things worse was he hadn't had sex in four months. He was worried his dick would fall off soon from the way he beat it every night. Yet he was never as satisfied as he had been after making love with Peeta. The sexual back up in his system was probably adding to his volatility. He couldn't seem to find a consistency in his life anymore.

A mother was struggling to hold her young son back, but he broke free of her grip and ran up to Cato. He hugged his right thigh, as he only reached Cato's waist in height. He looked up at Cato with soft blue eyes that reminded him so much of Peeta his heart actually skipped a beat.

"I want to be like you when I grow up," The little boy squeaked and Cato palmed his head affectionately. His mother ran over, completely flustered and pulled him, hard, from Cato's leg. She glared at Cato as if he had caused this and then slapper her child's wrist.

"You do not run away from mommy like that!" She chastised the child as he whimpered. "And that is a bad man. We do not support him."

Cato was too shocked by those blue eyes to care that his character was being called into question, although he growled when the woman smacked her child. No one should hit a child. Especially boys with Peeta's blue eyes. Peeta had enough abuse as a kid. That thought made his heart ache again, knowing that Peeta was trapped back in his home district with an unloving family.

He walked over to a small park between some buildings and sat himself on the cold steel of a bench. He sat there and tried to collect his thoughts. Ever since the games he felt as if he had been losing himself. The violence and death of the games haunted him, calling him to accept how easy it was to kill. It was in his nature. His father and the citizens of 2 were not helping as they plucked away at his resolve. He didn't know how much longer he could take the assault on his character before he lost the man he knew he desperately wanted to be, for Peeta. Peeta I need you. Fuck…

The sun rose high in the sky as Cato remained on the bench. It was the perfect place to hide as not many people came by him, most sticking to the street to complete their errands or work. He studied the way the snow melted off the branches of the hibernating trees from the suns heating rays. He wished he could join them, just melt away from his spot on the bench and leave behind the wicked thoughts that haunted his mind. Images of the final bloody blows that snuffed out the life from Stasson's eyes, the slicing and dicing of his sword as he cut limbs and throats of tributes in the blood bath, the cries for mercy he did not show. He wasn't sure what was real from the games anymore. His nightmares mangled the truth of his actions during the game and twisted him into the monster he feared lived inside him. But then he would see a reminder of the boy that changed his life and saved him from becoming another vile career like Enobaria or Stasson. He had proven to him there was so much more to life than winning the games. Peeta was a selfless human, volunteering to save a young child from sure death and refusing to play by the Gamemakers rules so the nation could see hope still existed. One could still fight the oppression they had been born into.

The rumble of Cato's stomach shook him from his stasis. He didn't know what time it was, but he was sure it had been hours since he dropped his sister off at school. He finally pulled himself from the secluded park and set off back to his own home in Victor's Village. He considered stopping by Lyme's house as he hadn't seen her in a while, but thought better of it knowing he was still in a foul mood and things weren't about to get any better for him as he bumped into his old friend from the Career Academy. He sighed internally knowing the slam against his shoulder wasn't because they both hadn't been paying attention to where they were going.

"Dreg today's not a good day for this."

Dreg was shorter than Cato, but still stood tall at around six feet. He had wiry shoulder length brown hair and thin eyebrows that were slanted in a sharp frown. He had a scar across his nose from a training incident at the Academy, which wasn't unusual. Most people got scarred from the arduous training regiment, even Cato, but his marks were scrubbed clean by the Capitol.

"It's always a good day to remind you of how far you've fallen," Dreg remarked with a pompous smirk, his rusty brown eyes taunting Cato.

Cato sighed. They used to be as good of friends as one could be at the Career Academy. Dreg was a year behind him so he was like Cato's protégé and admired him greatly while always keeping up a healthy dose of competition. But after his return from the games their relationship had chilled considerably as his friend turned his back on him for his relationship with a 'traitor'.

"Go away." Cato decided the best course of action was to leave before Dreg lit the fuse to a bomb he couldn't stop. Dreg put a hand on his shoulder and Cato had to fight his body to restrain himself from teaching Dreg his place. His fingers flexed rigidly at his sides.

"I'll let you alone today, Cato. But I thought you should know I'm training with Brutus at the Academy. I will volunteer this year at the reaping and return glory to District 2, unlike you. There will be no funny business with the other tributes and I shall be the sole victor," Dreg sneered and then he let go of Cato's shoulder and walked away leaving Cato returned to his fuming temper from the morning.

Cato snorted and then decided the only way to salvage the rest of his day was to exercise. At least he could work on controlling his body if he couldn't tame his mind. He had a gym set up with various weight lifting equipments and once he was home he set about pushing his body to the limit. He went through his typical regiment at a punishing pace until all his muscles screamed from the strain and he was drenched in sweat. But even then he did not stop. He pushed himself until he faltered and then his rage returned two-fold and he picked up the nearest weight disc and threw it. The 50lb weight smashed into the wall and left a gaping hole into the next room. It looked a lot like how his heart felt at the moment. Wounded like he had been speared again, but this time the kid from 10 aimed accurately and gouged a hole in his heart right where he carried his love for Peeta. He needed Peeta more than ever at the moment and he cursed the insurmountable distance between them. He yearned to kiss those soft lips of Peeta's one more time. Just one kiss and he would know everything was going to be all right.

Instead he settled for his hand and a shower to relieve the tension that knotted his body. Water cascaded down his well muscled back. The rivulets of water ran down the grooves and contours of his back like a stream flowing over a stony riverbed. He stood with his left arm braced against the shower wall and his head bowed down under the heated flow of water. His sculpted buttocks tensed and dimpled with the fervent stroke of his right hand against his erect penis. The moisture from the water helped his hand slide across his rigid member with ease, but his grip was tight and working up a fierce friction that turned his mushroom head an angry red as he beat it towards release. The muscles in his back undulated like a turbulent ocean as his hand worked at a pace so fast his it looked blurred. Cato imagined that it was not his hand that was pumping his cock for its milky release, but Peeta's tight round behind. He imagined himself forcing Peeta over roughly and slamming in repeatedly. Peeta would cry out in ecstasy or pain and Cato would continue regardless, needing his release, using and abusing what was his. His balls tightened and his eyesight distorted as his stomach convulsed and his hot seed spilled out over his beating fist like a shotgun. He bit his bottom lip hard, drawing blood and containing a strangled whine.

When his vision returned to normal he watched as the water washed his seed away, spiraling around the drain at a dizzying rate before slipping in and disappearing from sight, much like the visage of Peeta in his minds eyes slipped away from him again. He tried to hold on, he thought if he imagined hard enough it would stay; it would become real; it would be enough. It never was. He turned the knob that ended the spray of water and he stepped out of the shower, toweling himself dry. He hoped that the rough sexual fantasies he was having with Peeta were just the result of his pent up sexual frustration and not his subconscious leaking through. But that was a thought for another time as he realized it was almost time to call Peeta.

Cato rushed to throw on his clothes and make his way downstairs to the telephone in his living room. He sat himself on the couch and dialed the operator of District 2. Many people had the use of telephones in his district requiring them to have an operator, which was lucky because that was the only way he could be connected through to Peeta's line in District 12. He did not know the number nor was he sure one could make a direct call out of the district.

"Operator? This is Cato Ryves—yes. Same as always. Thank you." He said and tasted the blood from his cut lip.

Cato waited for the ring to signal he had been patched through to Peeta's line. He propped his feet up on the mahogany coffee table and felt a familiar light sensation in his stomach. He always felt as if his stomach would float away, weightless, while waiting for Peeta to pick up.

"Cato!" Peeta answered brightly.

Cato's stomach did somersaults upon hearing Peeta's enticing voice.

"Hey babe," He replied gruffly.

Peeta hesitated on the other end. "Is everything okay?" There was a static crackle and his voice came across a little distorted. It happened sometimes. The lines were old and not well maintained in 12.

Cato wanted nothing more than to share all his problems and concerns with Peeta. That's what boyfriends were supposed to do, communicate, share in each other's burdens. But the telephone was never safe. They could never really talk about what was happening for fear that the Capitol was listening. So instead they had to pretend everything was fine.

"Yeah, sorry… I just miss you." Cato decided that was the safest and true. He realized he hadn't said that enough recently and maybe he was taking it for granted. These things needed to be said.

"I—I miss you too." Peeta heaved a deep sigh.

"Cassadine reminded me it's only six weeks now."

"I can't wait to meet her," Peeta said and there was another crackle over the line. "Primrose has been keeping track of the days for me too, it's sweet."

Cato was glad Peeta had built a relationship with Katniss' sister. He knows how hard her death was on him and he was sure it was just as rough for the sister to witness on television. They needed each other. "I'm glad you have someone like her in your life there. It makes me feel better that you're not so alone."

"Yeah…" Peeta trialed off and the conversation fell into a lull. It had been happening more and more frequently as the months went by. There was only so much trivial information to be shared about their days before it became repetitive. Cato pressed the phone against his forehead in frustration. He just wanted to have Peeta in his arms. He almost wished for the time they spent in the cave from the Hunger Games and that was a twisted thought.

"Listen, Peeta. I just realized I haven't eaten all day. I think I'm going to make myself something. Uh… we'll talk again tomorrow, okay?" Cato crushed his eyes closed and waited for Peeta's response. He didn't know why he was cutting their conversation short, but he felt like his heart was on fire, the flames being stoked larger and hotter with each word spoken by Peeta and he couldn't handle the pain any longer. Not tonight.

"Oh, okay. Well love you. Talk soon." Peeta replied confused.

"Love you too." Cato said and then he hung up the phone on the receiver. He held a hand to his chest and massaged it, waiting for the burning to recede, blood still heavy on his lip. Nothing would ever be easy, not when he loved the boy on fire.

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