Chapter 7

Previously on The Hunger:

"If you want to kill him, you'll have to go through me." Cato calls, his words like a hot knife through butter as he calls to the members of the clearing. With that, he turns and starts running. Peeta can feel the world shaking around him, fragile as a leaf. With his weakened arms he clutches to Cato, clutches to life, but he knows it's pointless. He's just glad that the boy will be the last thing he sees.

"Let the Games begin."

And then the world goes black.

-x-x-x-x-

I can't believe I did that.

Awe and amazement racks through Cato's body. Did I really do that? Glancing down at the boy in his arms, even as distorted as he is, is answer enough.

Yes; yes I did.

It's been an hour since Katniss dropped the tracker jacker nest on them but Cato still can't believe it. He can't believe that she got away; he can't believe that Clove tried to blame it on Peeta; he can't believe that he went against her. He glances down at the boy in his arms, wincing at his appearance. He's amazed that Peeta survived at all, but he can still feel his pulse, consistent while everything else confuses him. Peeta must have been stung at least twenty times, two of which are on his face. Everywhere is puffy, some of the worse stings oozing with thick, gunky, green puss. Hatred for Katniss overwhelms him, leaving him seeing green. How dare she do this? He doesn't care what her reasoning was, she hurt Peeta; his Peeta. It's simply inexcusable.

His arms feel heavy with the weight of Peeta in his arms, but he won't leave Peeta; he simply can't. It's like thinking of not breathing, or stabbing yourself in the chest. It's not something you consider. But he's going to have to stop soon. Under any other circumstances Cato would be able to walk for days on end, but Peeta's a pretty big guy and, as much as he hates to say it, he is weighing him down. Plus he isn't sure how long Peeta will last with his injuries before the pain becomes too much. He's not sure how well he'd go at giving him medical treatment though, especially for the hole in his leg.

While he walks Cato considers carefully what happened in the last hour. The last real memory he has, the last one that isn't fuzzy with tracker jacker venom, is lying under Katniss' tree, waiting her out. Then the world exploded in a reign of black and yellow. He's never seen a tracker jacker before, well, before now anyway, but he knows of them very well. It was tracker jackers who killed his mother all those years ago. She had been wandering through the forest on the skirts of District 2 when she found them, a whole nest. She had assumed they were bees, a bug that might hurt her a little bit, but wouldn't be fatal if they stung her.

She was wrong.

Cato's father was never quite the same after that. After his mother's death Cato's father became obsessed with muttations. He taught Cato about all of them, how to heal himself if ever he were attacked by any muttation. So Cato had straight away recognised the tracker jackers for what they were. The funny thing was, despite the fact multiple stingers had buried themselves deep into his arms the moment the nest touched the ground, all the blonde could think of was Peeta. He had found Peeta in seconds, although it felt like centuries, not knowing how much damage was being done to the boy, and gripped his hand with as much strength as possible. For a terrifying heartbeat he had been concerned that Peeta wouldn't follow where he pulled him, but after little coaxing the boy followed in pursuit.

Cato had gone to the first place he thought of; the meadow. He hadn't considered for a second that anyone else would have gone there. He hadn't thought that maybe they were more similar than he would have liked. And he definitely didn't stop to consider maybe she'd blame Peeta. Sweet, gentle Peeta, as if he would ever be a part of such a scheme. A knot in Cato's stomach tells him that not even Katniss knew what she was planning until the nest was already falling. The tableau replays before his eyes, the air one moment clear, only faintly stained with smoke, the next swarmed with furious bugs. Something tells him that image will be burned into his eyelids for a long while, there to haunt him each time he shuts his eyes.

Reaching the meadow, he had been almost glad when he saw Clove. Although he hates the girl, he didn't want the entire alliance to be murdered in one sweep. Then she had started screaming, saying everything was Peeta's fault. Then the knife, oh the knife. Cato hadn't realised he was leaping until he crashed into the girl, but it was too late. The knife had already slipped from her skilled fingers, missing his chest and plunging into Peeta's leg instead. It could be worse, Cato guesses. She could have made her target and then Peeta would be dead.

Peeta can't die.

Pain stabs through Cato's chest, but not in the way he's used to. He's familiar to physical pain, to the burn of exercise of even the fire of a knife's touch, but emotional pain is something he has never been acquainted with. Despite never having felt it before, not since his mother's death anyway, Cato recognised it instantly. He was scared for Peeta; he didn't want him to die. For a small piece of Cato would die with him if Peeta was gone from this world.

Peeta can't die.

Feeling the need to reassure himself, the tall blonde looks down to the boy in his arms. The stings on Peeta's face are so puffed he can hardly see the handsome boy he was not even two hours ago. Peeta's eyes are shut and Cato guesses that even if he were conscious he wouldn't be able to open them, thanks to the swelling of the stings. Absentmindedly Cato knows he has to take the stings out and find some of those leaves, the ones his father told him about. Though Cato's never had use for them before, these leaves apparently heal tracker jacker stings within hours. As for the cut at Peeta's leg though, the one still dripping with blood, Cato's at a bit of a loss. He was never taught first aid for cuts, only muttation poisoning and attacks. He knew enough to maybe delay Peeta's death, but survival was still a slim hope in the very back of Cato's mind.

Cato draws his eyes away from the other blonde's distorted face, feeling his stomach curl uncomfortably in his stomach. He puts all other thoughts behind him and focuses on one: survival. The first thing he needs is a safe haven, a place where he can leave Peeta and not be concerned of the boy dying on him. He needs to get out of the main arena where anyone could see him and he wouldn't even know it until the spear bit deep into his back, protruding from his stomach in a fountain of blood.

Breathing evenly to keep from becoming exhausted, Cato looks at his surroundings. He's walking by the lake, the one that they found Katniss in after the Gamemakers tried flushing her out. His lips press together in a tight line, the scent of smoke still heavy in the air. He can feel it on him, ash slowly building up on his exposed skin, wanting to bury him. With all the smoke in the way, he has to strain his eyes to see anything at all. The lake's water is reasonably clear, surrounded by a natural barricade of rocks. He notices a faint shape in the background of the lake and he strains his eyes further to see. His eyes begin to sting with the ash and effort, but it doesn't take him long to realise what the shape is. A large boulder, adjacent to what appears to be a small cave. Hope wells in his chest unwillingly and he springs towards the cave.

Despite walking speedily, the four minute walk feels as if it lasts forever. He knows that this could be a turning point, if he actually has somewhere to leave Peeta and to nurse him back to health. This could be the thing that saves them. Them? Since when did he start thinking of them as a team? He knows that there's no way of them both surviving, and there's no way Cato will give his own life up. Not even for Peeta? A faint voice whispers in the back of his mind, raising goose bumps along his arms. As much as he wishes to say yes, that he wouldn't even give up his life for Peeta, he knows it's a lie. Ever since he watched the Reaping on the TV he knew he wouldn't be able to kill the other blonde. Fascination had bitten into him, something that was quickly nursed into obsession; he was obsessed with Peeta. Despite his entire life being about surviving, about making his way out of the Games as a champion and finally making his father proud, he knows that if it came down to it, he'd pick Peeta's life over his own. It's not a guarantee that the boy held in his arms will win, but it's an assurance that Cato certainly will not.

Cato blinks ash and soot out of his eyes as he stands before the cave, drawing away from his thoughts forcefully. His heart rate increases significantly but he hardly notices it; all of his focus is on the cave in front of him. Suddenly, his arms become so tired, and he nearly drops Peeta. Despite knowing he really should be checking out the cave a bit more before entering, he steps through the threshold, breathing in the cool scent of stone around him. Gently he kneels down, placing Peeta on the stone floor. Goose bumps ripple up the boy's arms from the cold, but he makes no other gesture to show he can feel it. A frown finds its way to Cato's lips but he refuses to think of it too much. Instead he looks around, analysing the cave with uncertainty. It's a small space, just a rounded room. The walls are rough where pressure has shaped it over the years, but Cato gets the feeling that Gamemakers have hollowed the cave further, leaving refuge for Tributes like himself. It would make the Games last longer if Tributes have a place to bring themselves back to health.

Nodding to himself, giving himself confidence that he's doing the right thing, he kneels down again beside the other boy. His eyes fall onto Peeta and fear pangs in his chest. The other boy's skin is pale and slick with sweat, his breathing is shallow and when Cato reaches out and presses his fingers gently against the other boy's throat, his pulse is slight. What if Peeta's death is imminent? What if nothing he can do will save the other boy? A harsh gasp takes over his mouth, one that he convinces himself is in reaction to the cold, as he leans down to take the stingers from where Peeta was stung. It would have been ideal to do that instantly after Peeta was stung, but this is the first chance he's had. Silently he counts as he pulls, finding 22 stings visibly on the boy.

A low moan fills the cave sending ripples of shock to dance along Cato's arms. His heart rate dances along with it, more of a cha-cha than the average waltz. His face contorts into an expression of hope, concern and fear as he leans in slightly closer to the boy beneath him.

"Peeta?" He whispers, vulnerability clear in his shaking voice. Another moan ripples through the cave, this time louder, and Cato feels the anticipation and anxiety escalate in his veins. Of course he's excited that Peeta's wakening, even if he still is injured greatly, even if his death wouldn't be a surprising outcome. But he's also terrified. What will Peeta's reaction be when he sees Cato hovering above him, when the memories of the past hours attack him? Will he be angry? Grateful? Confusion will be obvious, but what else will Peeta feel? Will he realise why it is Cato saved him?

With his heart in his throat, Cato sees Peeta's eyes fluttering open faintly. Confusion and disorientation is clear in his eyes, but also relief.

"Cato." The other boy sighs, letting his eyes to droop shut. Cato exhales loudly, not quite a sigh but not quite a breath either. It might just be the poison talking, but Peeta isn't angry. That's good, that's very good.

"Cato?" Peeta repeats, more questioning this time. He opens his eyes again, fuller this time. A faint crease falls in line between his eyebrows as his eyes focus a bit more on the boy in front of him. Panic smashes into Cato, not knowing what Peeta's thinking. He knows he should leave now, run before he gets hurt, but he can't bring himself to do it. He can't bring himself to leave the boy that captured his heart within a few days.

"I'm right here, Peeta." He whispers, instinctively leaning closer to the boy. With the need to touch the younger boy overwhelming him, he reaches out with delicate fingers and brushes locks of humid hair from his perpetrating skin. Another moan crawls from the boy's skin, this time approval intertwined into the sound.

"Am I dead, Cato?" He whispers, forcing his eyes open again. They had fallen shut when Cato's fingers brushed his skin, and now Cato could see the immense struggle it take shim just to do something as simple as opening his eyes.

"No." He whispers, fingers kissing his forehead with feather light touches once more. "And I won't let you die." He adds, fierceness creeping into the promise. He notes that Peeta's lips, paler than even the rest of his face, twist into the barest ghost of a smile. "But I do have to leave you, Peeta. I have to leave you to save you, to keep my promise. There are things that I need to keep you well. But it won't take long, I promise. I promise I'll be back as fast as I can." A low moan growls in Peeta's chest, reluctance to let the other boy go. Cato can't help it when the unwillingness to be without him shoots his heart into his throat, pounding at a rate he didn't think possible. He tries to calm himself, to tell himself that the other boy is simply delusional with poison. But the hope remains, twisting in his veins, worse than any poison. He fears the hope, is terrified by the thought that he might be setting himself up to be disappointed.

"I'll be back soon." He whispers, hesitating slightly before leaning down and pressing his lips gingerly to the boy's forehead. He feels him sigh beneath him, pleasure dancing through him despite his death still being a very possible option. Cato's eyelids shut against his will, and it takes all of his will power to stand up and walk away from the dying boy, refusing to look back as he does.

It's only once he's outside the cave in the fresh air that he realises just how hot the confined space was. The air forces itself upon him, slicking his hair to his forehead. He hadn't even realised he had been sweating. Apparently Peeta's fever was ferocious enough that his body heat had affected him. Long ago thought of dreams swim into his mind, fantasies where he would share more than body heat with the other boy, but he banishes them instantly. The boy could be dying for crying out loud! He can't be thinking of having sexual relations with the boy.

He glances around, choosing to distract himself from the thoughts in the forefront of his mind. If he were out in the Districts he would be guessing it was 6 or 7 pm. The adults of the District would just be coming home from their labour on various weapons in the workshops, all but the Victors where he lived. Thanks to his father and mother's championships the year before he was born, Cato had never known what it was like to exist as part of the District. He had been a member of royalty, all because his parents knew how to yield swords. He should be grateful, he thinks absently. Because of them he never knew what it was like to fear the Hunger Games. But maybe he should have feared them. He is only a few days into the Games, and already he's fallen in love for the first time, had members of his alliance killed off, then been all but banished from the same very alliance. Now he's stuck with a dying boy and almost no hope of survival.

A small part of him is glad.

He turns behind him, fear suddenly creeping along his skin. What if the Careers found their hiding place, and Cato wasn't there to defend Peeta? All he has left is a small dagger her had stored in a sheath by his ankle, but it's better than leaving Peeta there defenceless. He notes the boulder beside the cave, an idea sparking to his mind. He makes his way to the boulder and begins pushing it in front of the cave, a makeshift door.

While he pushes he thinks back to the Careers, trying to think who was still alive. He was certain Clove was alive, unless she had died in the past two hours. He'd be almost disappointed if she did; he wanted to be the one killing her. He tries to think harder, but tracker jacker poison blurs his memory. He had already taken out his stings before Clove started yelling at Peeta, and he had had a lot less stings than Peeta had, so he wasn't affected to bad. Still, the memory is fuzzy. Instead he thinks back to when the nest fell, thinking past his anxiety over Peeta and his own pain. He was certain that the girl from 4 and the boy from 3 were dead, he remembers seeing their bodies crumpled on the ground. He had also seen Glimmer's bow, but not the blonde herself.

So that left Glimmer, Clove and Marvel still alive. Cato dusts his hands slightly as he pushes the boulder the last of the way before walking out into the forest, attempting to find the leaves his father told him about. Whilst he searches, he thinks of Peeta. No, you're not thinking about Peeta, the slight section of his mind that refuses to acknowledge his love for the boy hisses. You're thinking of his wounds, and how he'll survive if you must insist on dragging him around.

He wasn't too concerned by the tracker jacker stings. They should be healed within a few days if he gathers enough leaves and changes them often. The gash at Peeta's thigh however, that was a problem. He's going to have to cut up his jacket when he gets back, making it into a makeshift tourniquet to stop the bleeding. After that he'd have to pray for a miracle from either his or Peeta's mentors, most likely the latter. For the first time since coming into the Games, Cato thinks to the cameras that are no doubt watching him prowl right now. What does his father think? What do his friends think? What do Peeta's friends and family think? An uneasy feeling settles in his stomach, and he's not too sure why. He's never cared for what other people think of him before, but then again, before he never 'came out of the closet', as people say. What if a subliminal piece of him has always been afraid of people's opinions?

He knows that Peeta wouldn't have too much to worry about now, even if he was healing. So a guy had saved his life, big deal. It's not like Peeta's kissed him or anything; that would be the point of no return. And Cato hasn't done anything too drastic, but he knows that the people back home wouldn't find him being very characteristic. They've probably guessed by now, just based on the past two hours alone. He isn't sure how he feels about that, about the whole world knowing he's into guys. He's supposed to be the fearless Tribute from District 2, the last time he checked, gay didn't really go well with the whole 'fearless Tribute' thing.

He puts his thoughts beside him when he sees a familiar plant. Jogging over quickly, a grin ripples on his lips. It's definitely the plant that his father showed him, so many times before. The plant's completely green, no flowers, just plain green leaves sprouting from the branches. It's just small, almost like a weed, but when he looks around he sees more. His father had always said these plants grew in bunches, almost as if they were scared of being alone. Right now Cato felt like getting down on his knees and thanking the Gods for such a gift, knowing there's enough here to heal Peeta's stings within the next two days.

With a nearly savage grin he reaches down and grabs handfuls of the leaves, plucking them from the small plants without breaking a sweat. He doesn't take any more than he needs though, a bit over forty to last this rotation and the next. He doesn't want to take too many and not have enough for the next few days.

With his pockets pull of medicinal leaves, Cato turns to jog back to the cave, finding it easily. His feet are swift on the ground and he manages to not crunch anything, the way he was taught during his training back at District 2. He finds himself in front of the cave in a matter of minutes, pushing the boulder aside to let himself through.

The cave is a strange place to be in, he realises the second he steps in. With its stone walls, roof and floor, the outer ring of the cave is freezing. But with Peeta in the centre, his fever burning high, the heart of the cave is scorching hot. Cato finds himself both shivering and sweating at the same time as he kneels down by Peeta's side.

"Peeta?" He whispers, instinctive fear in his voice. The other boy isn't moving and Cato hasn't seen his chest move since he walked in. What if Peeta died while Cato was out? What if he's alone now? But seconds after the word is out of his mouth, Peeta's eyes flutter open. The normally vibrant blue is currently hazed over, almost like a blind person, but it's a relief nonetheless.

"Peeta, I brought medicine." He whispers, tugging the leaves from his pocket and starting to place them over the other boy's stings. Cato can almost feel Peeta's relief filling the confined space; can see the way his muscles relax at just the touch of the vegetation. A slow smile finds its way to Cato's lips as he places the last leaf on him. When he decides there's not much more he can do for Peeta's stings right now, he puts a few leaves on the few stings he obtained as well.

His eyes then fall upon Peeta's leg. The bleeding has slowed dramatically, but there's still a pool of blood beneath him. Cato cringes, noting just how pale Peeta's skin is. He instantly tugs his jacket off, ignoring the shivering that takes over his body, and rips the mid riff of the jacket off. He ties it around Peeta's thigh just above the gash tightly, but not so tightly that he'll lose circulation in his leg. There isn't much hope for it, but Cato's aiming to keep Peeta's leg alive. There's a high possibility that Peeta's leg will be amputated once the Games are over, if he wins, but if there's anything Cato can do to stop that from happening he will.

"Better? He asks quietly, twisting his legs slightly to hover over Peeta easier. He watches at the boy's eyelids droop to a close, an almost drugged-out smile flitting to his lips.

"Much." He replies, his voice weak. Cato presses his own lips together in a flat line.

"Rest up, heal. I'll wake you if anything happens." Cato murmurs, but Peeta is already asleep.

Hours pass quietly. Cato pulls the boulder to close off the cave, but for the most time he just watches Peeta sleeping. A few issues pass in his mind, such as what they'll do for food once Peeta's a bit better. He's not sure about the other boy, but Cato sure as Hell can't hunt and he wouldn't have a clue about edible plants. He always knew he was going to get his supplies from the Cornucopia; anything else was unthinkable.

After an eternity of watching the vulnerable lines of Peeta's sleeping face, Cato notices his eyelids fluttering open. Cato's breath catches in his throat, knowing that this time when Peeta wakes up things will be different. He won't be so disoriented this time, and nothing he does can be blamed on the tracker jacker poison. The leaves would have sucked it out by now and will be on their way to healing the stings' appearance.

Slowly Peeta's eyes come to focus on Cato, confusion welling in his features.

"Cato?" He asks, disorientation taking over his body. He looks around the cave, his eyebrows creased together tightly.

"Hey."

"What happened?" Cato sighs faintly, shaking his head. Peeta presses his lips together in a tight line, trying hard to remember the contents of the past day.

"The tracker jackers." He whispers, shivering. He glances back to Cato for confirmation, but he already knows it's true. Cato nods slowly, wetting his lips.

"You saved me." Peeta adds, his voice not so certain this time. Cato hesitates, his entire body screaming at him to run now, but instead he just nods. There's a long silence in the cave along with an awkward tension. Finally, Peeta speaks.

"Why?" He whispers, making Cato cringe. It's not as if Peeta speaks negatively, simply inquisitively. Still, Cato's terrified to tell him the truth, and he can't think of another lie that would work.

"You don't want to know."

"Why?" Peeta repeats, his eyes boring into Cato's skin. The bigger blonde sighs, turning to face him.

"It seems that I've… that I've come to care for you. I couldn't let her kill you, and I couldn't stay there after I defended you; they would have killed me. So here I am, almost like an outlaw." He chuckles quietly, his voice void of humour. Peeta's lips tighten, making his face impossible to read, and Cato looks away. What the Hell is wrong with you? He asks himself, shaking his head absently. This is so not how Cato acts.

Silence follows, and when Peeta's mouth opens once more the conversation has changed. "Can you hunt?"

"No. Can you?"

"No. What are we going to do for food?"

Cato bites down on the edge of his lower lip, voicing and idea he had earlier. "I was thinking of going back to the Cornucopia; of stealing from them. Maybe I can even kill one of the Careers while I'm there, it would be a win win situation. I could probably hunt if I really tried, but I'd probably find something poisonous. My trainers never taught me how to hunt; my strategy was always to take supplies from the Cornucopia. I say we stick to that strategy." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Peeta shake his head.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I'm not letting you go out there; I won't let you get hurt. I get that you need to eat to, but if anything happened I'd just convince myself you got hurt for me. No." Peeta turns to face him, his eyes dark in the dim light. The silence is so thick he can not only hear but count his heart beats.

"I need to do this. I wasn't asking, I was telling you." Cato replies after a few minutes of silence. Peeta's expression crumples, pain etching into his skin.

"Please, Cato." He replies, his voice a painful beg. "Promise me you won't go. I don't care about the food, we'll figure something out. Just don't go, promise me. Stay here. Sleep. We'll work something out in the morning." Peeta's eyes open wide, reminding Cato of a puppy dog. He swallows faintly, trying to keep his promise out of his mouth. He's going; nothing Peeta says or does will change that. But right now, when he's looking at him like that, it's so hard to resist.

"No, Peeta. I'm going. I've thought about this for hours now; it's the only way." He shakes his head, his eyebrows creasing with the pain of denying him. "I'm sorry."

Peeta's eyelids tremble shut and he takes a deep breath. "What if I can convince you?" He whispers. Cato's crease in confusion. Peeta's eyes open once more and Cato only has a second before he knows what's happening next.

Peeta's lips come crushing down on his own, taking him in a breathtaking kiss. Cato gasps with the force and responds immediately, his fingers reaching out in search of Peeta. His fingers grip Peeta's hair, pulling his face closer to his own. He loses all sense of self control and becomes lost to the fire, consumed by all that makes Peeta who he is.

Peeta lets out a gasp of surprise, he had obviously intended it to be a gentle kiss, but he is soon lost to the flames that dance between them. His arms reach around Cato's neck, gripping the boy in an almost painful lock. His tongue flitters from between his teeth, sliding over Cato's lower lip to ask for entrance. Cato's lips open, a low moan growing in his chest.

He's kissed boys before, of course. Many of times. He's even slept with boys before, more than he'd like to admit. Definitely more than he'd ever been with any girl. But right now, everything else pales in comparison to Peeta. His whole existence is like a meteor, flashing in Cato's eyes, leaving him blinded and stunned. Peeta's kiss leaves him overwhelmed, deprived of air and sinking into an abyss of lust. Normally he'd hate that anyone can have this much control over him, hate that with one simply kiss Peeta has made him ravenous with desire. The hunger takes over him, leaving him a monster, wanting only one thing.

Their tongues meet and electricity dances through Cato's entire body. He can feel his skin crackling with yearning. He doesn't just want to feel Peeta's kiss and touch, he needs it. Being without it too long with be like going without air. It's unthinkable. Here, no, with their bodies entwined, Cato knows this is what he was born for. Nothing else will ever fill him with such purpose as Peeta does.

Peeta's arms slip from around his neck, ducking to his waist. A groan of wanting ripples between them, and Cato isn't even sure who it belongs to. Peeta's finger nails dig into the skin at Cato's hips, pulling their bodies closer still. Nothing will be close enough, Cato decides. Even if they somehow became one, shared a body, they still wouldn't be close enough.

Their pulses race and Cato's close enough that he's not sure if it's Peeta's heart beat he's feeling or his own. None of this matters. He's been in the desert for an eternity and Peeta is water and oh is he so thirsty.

A gasp overtakes them both as Peeta pulls away, both of their breath hastened. Cato puffs as if he has just finished a marathon, his eyes locked on Peeta's. The boy is flushed under his pallor, sweat dripping from his body. Although he didn't realise it during their kiss, sweat kisses Cato's body as well.

"Stay." Peeta orders, catching his breath gradually. Cato doesn't even consider the demand before nodding. He watches the boy beneath him sigh in relief before reaching out for another kiss.

This one is sweeter, softer. The hunger is still there beneath them, threatening to take them over, but it's slightly sated now. Peeta tastes a mix of peppermint and sweat on Cato's lips, a taste leaving him breathless. Once more he forgets how to breathe, his body taking over with instinct.

All too soon they separate. Cato isn't sure how long it's been since their first kiss, maybe minutes, maybe hours, and he doesn't care either. A cloud of bliss hovers over him as he reaches out and rests his head on Peeta's chest. He glances up to see the other boy shutting his eyes, giving into the lure of sleep. Although the stings are much better his leg must be leaving him with excruciating pain. Cato sighs faintly but turns his head, his arm stretched out wide over Peeta's chest.

Moments pass until Peeta is snoring but Cato still waits an hour, plotting silently. It's only once the snoring ends, dying down to a gentle rumble that Cato stands up, separating himself from the other boy. He finds his bay to his feet, stepping silently to the mouth of the cave and pushing away the boulder. He reaches into the sheath at his ankle, grabbing his dagger and holding it tightly between his fingers as he glances back to the boy he loves.

Sleep makes Peeta's face vulnerable, making him seem much younger than he really is. His breath is slow and steady, and he doesn't move even though Cato is gone. The lines of pain that crease his face are now gone, smoothing the plane. He's more beautiful in sleep than Cato ever thought imaginable, and it takes all of his will power to keep from crawling against him once more.

With a final pang of guilt, Cato tightens his fingers around his dagger and steps out from the cave, into the dead of night.

And heads straight for the Cornucopia.

-x-x-x-x-

AN: These chapters just keep getting longer :P

Anyway, I really wanted to get this up because I might not be able to post in a long time. Next month I'm participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and will be writing a 50,000 word original story. Because I'll be focusing on that so much, I won't be writing for any of my fanfiction. I might get chapter 8 up before next month, but it's pretty unlikely.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this. I really did, even if it did take me a while

Oh, and for those who wanted to know what the name of the sequel will be it's 'The Chase'