A/N: Hello again! :)

I have no experience with personal loss other than a dog and a few fish so I've only been able to interpret how one would behave after having heard the horrible news. I'm sorry if it is inaccurate, I did my best.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Chapter Fourteen

Katniss may have known Peeta ever since they were teenagers but she obviously didn't think about the obvious when it came to where he had vanished to. She must have come to the conclusion that Peeta had tried to run far and fast. Cato knew Peeta too well. He wouldn't run so far from those who loved him. He probably just wanted to be left alone. Cato didn't want to allow this however because he couldn't leave Peeta on his own while he was so emotionally unstable. If he wanted to be on his own then Cato would bring him back to his house and give him his space. But out on the streets completely alone? No.

Cato knew where Peeta was. He didn't know how he knew it instantly-Intuition? Lucky guess? Just knowing Peeta so well he could predict his every move?-but his hunch was right. It didn't take Cato long to reach the community center, especially since the streets were deserted and he could speed a little. The car park was desolate, not a single vehicle in sight. At first Cato doubted what he had first thought but the closer he got to the community center, the louder this sound became. Loud; devastated; broken sobs coming from inside the building.

Pushing through the doors, Cato searched the interior frantically. He had to wait for his eyes to adjust in the darkness as when he tried to find a light switch, his hand found nothing. When he could finally see he could make out that the chairs were still set up in the hall, lined up in uniform rows. In the dark gloom, there was a small ball curled up at the top of the aisle between the seats. The ball was crying.

Cato's heart flipped in his chest. He walked up the aisle and crouched beside Peeta, winding his arms around his hunched frame and drawing him close. Peeta turned into Cato and grabbed the front of his shirt desperately, burying his face into his chest and sobbing hysterically. Cato had never comforted someone before and was unsure of how to go about doing it. "Hey," he whispered gently, "Peeta, it's okay."

"She's dead," Peeta sobbed. "Sh-She's gone! Máthair is gone!"

"Sssh, I know," Cato hushed, rubbing Peeta's back comfortingly. "I'm sorry."

"It's not fair!" Peeta cried. "She didn't deserve to die. It wasn't her time to go! It just wasn't!"

Cato sighed and kissed the top of Peeta's head. "She's okay now. She's in a better place," he said. Peeta shook in his arms, clutching onto Cato for grim death. "She . . . She's with your dad. You said she was Catholic well . . . well . . . she's in heaven now." Cato wasn't exactly well versed with the Catholic practices but guessed that they believed that souls went to heaven when a person died. Erm, right?

Peeta shook his head in denial. "It's my fault," he whimpered. "I should have done more." He yelled in frustration and shouted, "I should have done more!" His voice bounced off the walls of the hall and repeated his frustration like a thousand ghosts mimicking him.

"Stop saying that," Cato snapped. "It's not your fault. You did all you could for her. She knew how hard you worked for her. She knew that you did your best for her. There's nothing else you could have done."

Peeta lifted his head and stared into Cato's eyes. His face was screwed up and his skin was soaked with tears. It broke Cato's heart how broken he looked and without saying anything else, he drew Peeta back towards him for a tight embrace. He was uncertain of how long he sat there, letting Peeta cry his heart out. With every sob he grew weaker and soon he was lying against Cato like a rag doll, shivering and sniffling in despair.

"I'm going to take you back home, okay?" Cato whispered.

"Home?" Peeta's voice shook and his muscles tensed, the idea of returning to Maria's house distressing him.

"Back with me," Cato assured him. He hooked his arm underneath Peeta's legs and wound the other around his shoulders, lifting him off the ground and carrying him back out to the car.

The entire journey home, Peeta alternated between sitting in silence and bursting into spontaneous tears. Cato wanted to help. He wished he knew what to do. But he'd never experienced personal loss before and had no clue how to deal with it. This was his first time ever consoling someone in distress and all he knew was that he wanted to rid Peeta of his pain. But doing so was easier said than done. Especially since what was upsetting him was so final.

At his house, Cato sat Peeta down on the sofa and asked him if he'd eaten. Sure, it was late, but Katniss said that Maria passed away in her sleep the previous night. Meaning Peeta had ran off to grieve some time maybe early that morning. Peeta shook his head, staring at the wall in front of him blankly. The helplessness Cato had originally felt eased up a little as he finally had something he could do to help. He could make Peeta something to eat. Nothing huge, just something to fill him for the night.

"I'm not hungry," Peeta muttered when the bowl of soup was placed in front of him.

"You have to eat, Peeta," Cato said firmly, pressing a spoon into his boyfriend's hand. He leaned over and kissed the top of Peeta's golden locks again and added, "I'm going to run you a bath and get you some clean clothes to wear. I expect to see either a clean bowl or you eating when I come back." He used some of his domineering authority to make sure Peeta knew he was serious but not too much so the younger boy didn't think they were going into master-pet mode and get stressed out.

Baths were comforting, right? Cato second guessed himself three or four times while he filled the bath in his en-suite bathroom up with hot water and added soap to it. It wouldn't take the pain of Maria's death away but it would hopefully warm Peeta up since he'd clearly been outside for a reasonable amount of time. Clothes posed a problem but Cato scoured to the back of his wardrobe (so far back he was nearly at the door to his playroom) until he found an old t-shirt and shorts. Normally Peeta left some odds and ends here and there at the house but it was around about the time he had taken the clothes home to be washed (Peeta refused to allow Cato to do it himself and always did it at his own house or at Maria's).

Peeta was stirring the soup when Cato returned but a significant amount had disappeared from the bowl. "I can't eat anymore or I'll be sick," Peeta murmured.

"It's fine. I'm glad that you tried," Cato replied. He took the bowl back, emptied it and deposited it into the dishwasher. When he turned back to Peeta, he sighed when he saw that the boy was blankly staring into space. It worried him how evasive Peeta was being. Was that normal for someone who just experienced a death of a loved one? Cato made a mental note to research what was normal and what wasn't once Peeta was in the bath.

Words weren't necessary as Cato slipped his hand into Peeta's and walked with him up the stairs and into his bedroom. Cato helped Peeta undress-since he seemed too out of it to even attempt to do it himself-and made sure not to allow himself to sexualize the situation in any way. It was surprisingly easy as, even though Cato was taking Peeta's clothes off and soon the smaller boy would be standing before him naked, the circumstances in which they had gotten to this point weren't the usual setup for a sexy fumble in the bathtub. Besides, Cato respected Peeta way too much to defile him in such a way when he was suffering so greatly. Not a single dirty thought passed through Cato's mind as he took off Peeta's underwear and helped him step into the tub.

Once Peeta was settled, Cato gave him some space by pulling the door closed to create a thin divide between them. This was only so Peeta could have some time by himself to think what he needed to think and cry if he wanted to cry. But the small slit provided by not closing the door tight gave Peeta the opportunity to call for Cato if he needed him and to give Cato a peace of mind knowing that Peeta was close at hand and out of harm's way.

Cato sat against the headboard of his bed and tapped into his phone, 'How to support someone suffering from personal loss'. He didn't want his inexperience to hinder the healing process for Peeta and wanted to provide the best possible support he could. What he found was very basic but solid advice.

Tip 1: Listen with compassion.

Tip 2: Offer practical assistance.

Tip 3: Provide ongoing support.

Tip 4: Watch for warning signs.

The last tip worried Cato slightly but the warning signs seemed to be things that were easily spotted and hopefully easily dealt with. Cato liked to hope that he was in this with Peeta for the long run and knew he would have to be his rock for the foreseeable future. Maybe Katniss and some of his other friends as well.

"Hey, Peeta," Cato said after a while, "you ready to come out yet?"

There was a brief pause before Peeta said, "Okay." Peeta insisted that he was fine enough to dry himself and graciously accepted the clothes Cato offered him, even though he still drowned in them. After he was washed and dried, Cato helped Peeta into bed, sliding in beside him and switching the bedside lamp off once settled. He instinctively folded Peeta into his arms and Peeta instinctively drifted to Cato like a moth to a flame.

They lay in silence for numerous minutes. The silence wasn't at all awkward and was actually quite comforting. Cato knew that he would always be at peace with Peeta in his arms. He only wished there was something he could do to take the pain away. "Don't feel like you have to talk about it just because I'm here," he eventually murmured. "You aren't obligated to do anything. Talk to me when you're ready. If you're ever ready, that is. No pressure, of course."

Peeta's ear was pressed exactly over the spot where Cato's heart steadily beat. "She didn't deserve to die," he whispered.

"Does anyone, really?" Cato replied, stroking the top of Peeta's head soothingly. "Maria-from what I knew of her-seemed like she was a very generous woman. She will get all that she deserves in the next life." As an Atheist, Cato didn't know what to make of heaven or hell or anything else that the Catholic religion entailed. However, what he did believe in was good people going to good places when they die. Places where they would be eternally happy.

"I don't understand," Peeta whispered. He squeezed his eyes tight. "I don't understand why she died. Why, out of everyone who could have died today, did God or fate or death or whoever the hell is responsible, thought 'Her. It's her time to go,'?"

"Sometimes it's not decided," said Cato. "Sometimes . . . sometimes it just happens. Death is a part of life. It makes us better; stronger; and, eventually, happier."

Peeta shook his head. "How can I be happy if she's not here? She was all I had left. My brothers won't care-they always thought she favoured me and broke contact when they left for Ireland-and my dad's gone. There's no one left of my family. I don't have anyone anymore."

Cato tipped Peeta's chin up. Peeta's eyes fluttered open and a single tear slipped out, staining his dry skin with its salted pain. "You are not alone," he said. "You are never alone. I can't empathize. I wish I could, god do I wish I could, but I can't. However, what I can do is tell you with absolute surety is that you will never run out of family. Katniss is your family. Delly is your family. I . . . Well, I'm not your family. I'm . . . well . . ."

"My boyfriend," Peeta finished.

Cato nodded. He didn't think he'd ever hear that, especially not from a submissive. "Yes. I'm your boyfriend. And we, we love you, Peeta. Just like Maria did and still does. We won't abandon you."

Peeta's face crumpled as he tried to hold back tears. He pressed his forehead against Cato's chest and let out a shaky breath. "I need her, Cato."

"I know," Cato said gently. "But it isn't the end of the world. Do you think she'd want you to be like this?"

"No," Peeta whimpered. "But, but I just feel so . . . so . . . sad."

Cato held Peeta close to his body and said, "It's okay to cry. Go ahead, I won't leave you."

Those four words. 'I won't leave you' was enough for Peeta to give in. He collapsed against Cato and broke down, sobbing into his boyfriend's sleep shirt and gasping for breath every few seconds. Cato wound his arms around his partner and held him tight, pressing his forehead against the top of Peeta's head and stroking his back while he cried.

They would get through this. Together.

~xXx~

Peeta stayed crouched beside Maria's coffin long after the funeral procession. It was astonishing how many lives Maria Mellark had touched. Cato was overwhelmed by the amount of people who attended the funeral; it seemed almost like the entire Merchant sector of the city. The coffin was surrounded in flowers and teddies and cards. All which they'd probably have to take home after Maria was cremated.

Peeta spoke to his mother but Cato didn't know what he said. The grieving boy spoke in soft, quiet Irish. Cato wasn't offended by Peeta doing this. He knew that it wasn't that Peeta didn't want him to hear what he was saying, he simply wanted the conversation to be between himself and his mother. Their final conversation.

Katniss was at the back of the church, talking to the priest who'd conducted the ceremony. The funeral had been the first time she'd seen Peeta since he ran away and, even though Cato had rang her to say he'd found Peeta safe and well, she was still relieved by the sight of him. So relieved that she nearly pushed Cato into a wall just to get to Peeta and hug him until his eyes bulged. Cato felt bad that he ever doubted Katniss' motives. It was clear that she cared about Peeta and that was all Cato needed.

When Peeta eventually stood up, Cato stepped closer to him and placed a reassuring hand on his back. "You alright?" he asked.

Peeta nodded. Wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands, he inhaled sharply and said, "Slán go fóill máthair."

Only the three of them presided over Maria's body as she was cremated. It wasn't that the others didn't want to stay but Peeta preferred to oversee this with the two people he trusted the most. Both Cato and Katniss held Peeta's hands (Katniss and Peeta both shared a prayer) as the priest said, "We therefore commit her body into the hands of God; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life."

Peeta was very strong during the cremation but afterwards Cato had to hold him outside the church because the brave face eventually crumbled away. Katniss eventually joined them, adding herself to the hug and murmuring, "It's going to be okay."

Cato knew she was right.

A/N: I know it may be hard to believe but I only have two or three more chapters planned for this. I cannot believe I'm nearly finished this as well as Puppet Strings, it seems like only yesterday I was starting them!

Translation: 'Slán go fóill máthair' means 'Goodbye for now mother'.

Please review with your thoughts! I adore all of your feedback! :)