Chapter Two
She meant the world to him, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.
This girl, so tiny, so breakable, so insignificant, had turned out to be the one person he'd risk anything for. And when he saw what he had thought to be her lifeless body collapse onto the empty field, he'd lost it. His sanity, control, everything went out the window in a blink of an eye.
Suddenly, the lethal, lost, and beautifully twisted girl he'd known had been reduced to a shrieking victim begging for her life. He'd heard her cries, and rushed to help her. He didn't think she could have sounded so scared. She would never admit it aloud, but she was the most noble and strong willed individual he'd ever met. She didn't want this life, neither of them did. He became her only salvation, and she his sole confidant. The circumstance of their budding friendship was less than ideal, but that never stopped him from loving her.
He vowed to protect her forever, but he had failed.
The events of that day blurred together, and he began to doubt the reality of it all. In one move, he'd torn through the oaf of a Tribute from District 11. He didn't spare a second glance toward his victim as he ran to her side. As the slight heave of her chest ceased, he found he couldn't breathe either.
No tears came to his eyes, and the only thing he'd felt was the gaping void that had manifested deep into the heart of his chest. He dropped to his knees, his arms hung limp by his sides, his weapon crashed onto the ground. He pulled her close in his arms, whispering into her ear and begging her to stay with him. An agonizing scream left his body as he embraced her, but it was too late. Almost methodically, he laid her done on the grass, brushed a stray lock of hair from visage, and rose to his feet. His grip on the hilt of his sword was so tight that he could feel the blood trickle down his wrist, but he paid it no attention.
A switch had flipped, and he went off in a silently blind rage. It hadn't been difficult to track down the District 12 Tributes, the boy was severely wounded and the girl wouldn't leave her lover's side. At first, he contemplated sacrificing his own vitality to preserve the lives of the widely publicized star-crossed-lovers.
To let them live, to allow them to carry on, it would have been what she wanted him to do. For as much as people wanted people to believe her a cold hearted killer, she had the warmest heart he'd ever know.
But as much as he wanted to let them go free, he couldn't.
No.
Cato decided if he wasn't allowed to be with the one he loved, then no one could. They didn't deserve it, not when they had contributed to her brutal demise.
It was easy to intimidate them. The girl had been more of a challenge to eliminate than the crippled boy. He remembered Loverboy from before, the one who had allied himself with the Careers, only to protect his beloved partner. He'd stuck the fool in the thigh with one of his swords, and the injury had been too serious for him to recover from.
After he hacked through the boy, the girl had collapsed in a mess of tears. How weak, to show her emotions like that. She had been the popular choice as victor, all of the other Tributes knew it even before the games began. She was fierce though, almost as fierce as the one he cared for.
But it was her mistake to resemble Clove, for it only made the rage inside him escalate. He killed her without hesitating.
Covered in blood that didn't belong to him, he treaded back to the field. Surprisingly, the game keepers had not taken her body away. There she was, looking as if she was sleeping. It was then that he realized no cannon had gone off for her, and that no one had declared him winner yet.
She was still alive.
A voice boomed over the stadium, declaring the two victors from District 2. The entire world had seen what he'd done, his monstrous strength, his undeniable affection for her. They had been careful to mask their relationship during the Games. The two of them were smarter than the rest of the tributes, and strategy was everything. They would let their emotions dictate the outcome of the competition, it would make them too easy to be exploited.
But now it was over, and they were both coming out.
The universe had worked in his favor, saving his life along with hers. Good things came to good people, it was a logic taught to young children everywhere. Too bad they weren't good people. She was comatose for a week after the end of the Games, the doctors found her unstable condition worrying.
But she woke up, just like he knew she would. He hadn't broken his promise to her, she wouldn't break hers to him. But as those dark eyes gazed into his, he knew something had gone terribly wrong. And for the second time in his life, he really panicked.
This wasn't Clove, she didn't know him at all.
He didn't have a cool temper to begin with, and too many of his questions were going unanswered. He had pushed the physician against the wall, his hands holding a strong grip on the little man's collar.
"Why doesn't she remember?" he growled, wrath dripping from his tone. He was shaking, he needed to keep his strength in check.
"We'll have to run more tests to be sure," the older man coughed, "Come back, and we'll have a more definitive conclusion,"
He dropped him to the floor and walked away, only stopping to spare her one last fleeting glance before storming out.
Oh, they better have hoped they would have answers the next time. Or there would be hell to pay.
-p-
Another three days had passed before he was allowed to see her again.
The Capitol wanted the two of them back on their feet, to commence the Victors' Tour as soon as possible. It didn't reflect well on the government when they declared two simultaneous winners, only to have one perish soon after. They didn't waste any time easing her into her situation.
She was given terse and abrupt explanations, a long reel of video footage from the Games to fill in the holes. She knew the basics of her life, but really nothing else.
"Cato," she greeted when he walked in. His name felt familiar on her tongue, and the sound of it from her lips sent a chill down his back.
"Hey," he countered, a semblance of a smile across his mouth. "How are you feeling?" He stood in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe as he crossed his arms. He was dressed in his standard suit, looking neater and more premed than the first time she'd seen him.
"Fine," she answered tersely. She had been told her name, her District, her status as a Hunger Games' winner. And this was her partner.
But by the way he was looking at her, she was beginning to wonder if he was more.
"We need to leave soon,"
"I know,"
He stood before her, his hands now in his pant pockets. He scanned her image head to toe, "You look better,"
She nodded in acknowledgement as she slipped into the pair of heels waiting on the floor beneath her bed. The doctors had finally granted her the green light to leave the facility. She rose to her feet, smoothing down the skirt of her formal red dress. The piece of clothing was modest, the fabric fitted around her chest and waist and flowed down a few inches from her knees.
When she straightened herself up, he was right in front of her. She nearly walked straight into his chest.
He couldn't resist the temptation of being close to her again. She looked the same, sounded the same, she even smelled the same. But she was a different person now, and it was growing apparent that he wouldn't accept it. He restrained himself from gently running the back of his knuckles against her face.
"Thank you," she cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the close proximity between them. Her eyes concentrated on the tiling beneath their feet as she continued, "For saving me, during the Games,"
His face twisted with perplexity, before she went on. "They showed me the videos, of you taking out the boy who did this to me," She gestured to the back of her head, "He nearly bashed in the back of my head,"
She nearly winced at the image playing over and over again. A blunt object slamming into her head, the dark-skinned boy shouting at her with vengeful words. To be honest, the boy had every reason to be angry with her. She spoke of killing a defenseless twelve-year-old, savoring her death as if it were some kind of sport.
One nurse had said she was lucky to have long and dark hair to hide the scars. The woman didn't quite understand the invisible scars she would bear with her for the rest of her life.
He'd been instructed of his duty to fill the gaps in her memory. Her personal life, rather than the professional one the nation knew of. She didn't remember it, but there was no one who understood her better than him.
"I wouldn't have been able to do any of it without you," he responded truthfully. Any strength or rage he carried with him those last hours of the Games had resulted from her alleged demise. "So, thank you."
She knew nothing of this boy before her. The way he carried himself was of a man beyond his eighteen years. She had seen him on screen, a horrible look in his eye as he killed his helpless competitors. None of it had been a fair fight. He was bigger, stronger than the rest of them. Not that she was exactly one to criticize.
She had an equally wicked smile upon her lips, as she cut through the other tributes with daggers. Sometimes she would look down at her own hands, wondering how she had been able to do it. All with an unremorseful and sadistic attitude to match his.
Careers, the announcers had called them. Killing machines engineered by their Districts, poor children manipulated and brainwashed to slaughter innocents in the name of glory.
"Who are you?" the question slipped out without forethought, and she paused. Taking a wobbly step back, she put her hand on his chest to establish a distance between them. But she didn't want him to think her vulnerable, not once did she divert her eyes from his. "I mean, who are you to me?"
He opened his mouth to respond, but never got the chance.
"Are you two done yet? The car is waiting outside, and the press is getting restless!" a rough voice cut from outside the room.
Cato clenched his teeth as he reluctantly turned away from the brunette girl. "We're coming!" he shouted in the direction of the door. He faced her again, offering his hand to her. "Let's go,"
She didn't utter a word, but instead took his hand.
She knew nothing about the world around her, and nothing about him. But nonetheless, there was something safe about his presence. He was more than just familiar, and an unidentifiable force inside her told her she could trust him. She wasn't used to putting her faith in something she didn't understand, but then again, nothing made sense right now.
As he led her out of the building, she felt her grip tighten around his.
End Chapter Two
A/N: Hopefully this chapter gives you a better idea of where this story will be heading. Please review if you'd like me to continue.