Chapter 3
Her body could remember things her mind could not.
For the past week, Cato had refused her every effort to better understand the life she once lead. From her family to her full name, he ignored her pleas and simply brushed another stray lock of hair behind her ear. He would hush her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a manner that was so natural that she didn't bother questioning him.
She couldn't be sure, but she suspected the constant anxiety she felt was a new addition to her personality. Even the colorful multitude of pills she'd been prescribed weren't enough to calm her incessant state of panic. It was to expected, the doctors said. PTSD was common amongst victors.
Clove would have believed their explanations, if it weren't for the steady stability that her brick wall of a partner posed.
He never faltered, always so confident and sure in whatever he did. There was air of consistency with him. If he was ever nervous or insecure, he didn't show it. The mask he wore was infallible, and it took ample time for Clove to decode his emotions.
Her charcoal eyes scanned the scene outside the window, the slow hum of the train engine dying beneath her feet. Holding her breath, she shut her eyelids as she sensed the vehicle fall to a complete and still halt. This was it.
The Victors Tour had been cut short. There had been a series of 'incidents' in the Districts they visit. The trip kicked off in the higher districts, desolate and miserable places with embittered and resentful denizens. To say the least, neither Clove nor Cato were very welcome.
A rebellion was brewing, and though no one dared speak of it aloud, it was becoming common knowledge throughout all of Panem. It wasn't safe for them to travel. Besides, the doctors proclaimed Clove's condition unfit to travel. Skeptical but thankful of the excuse to rest, they turned around.
So here they were, back home. District 2. Home.
"Hey," his familiar voice whispered from behind.
His sudden presence didn't scare her other people's did. She was never afraid of him, no matter how intimidated she felt around him. Some people they met along the way were utterly terrified of the brooding young man.
Common sense told her to beware of him too. But for some reason, she knew he would never hurt her, ever. He would protect her, always.
"You okay?" the warmth of his body radiated onto her back, but she didn't turn around. She resisted the urge to lean back and fall into his hold.
"Yes," she answered, not thinking twice about the lie because she knew wasn't good at deception anyway. He would see right through her, but he wouldn't say anything about it.
He didn't see it as dishonesty, only a defense mechanism to hide from the appearance of vulnerability. She had feared weakness even as a young child, he wouldn't make her face it. Not when he was here to protect her.
"Alright," he said back slowly, following her gaze out to the city before them. Unlike the coal mines of District 12 or fisheries of District 4, District 2 was a bustling metropolis that enjoyed much of the same prosperity of the Capitol.
Granted there was still some hardship here, but there was no such misfortune that one could find in some other sectors of the country. Lucky enough, Cato never had to go hungry or worry about his survival outside of the arena. He wanted for nothing, until he met her.
No words were exchanged aloud, only the silent understanding that seemed too intimate to explain. He reached down for her hand, and she readily accepted his grasp. She couldn't say why, but everything felt better whenever he was close by.
Ignoring the insufferable chatter of the group of escorts in the other compartment of the train, she followed Cato out of the cart. Stepping out into the square, applaud and excitement roared all around them. Thousands of people moved as one sea of unrecognizable cheering faces.
'Welcome Back' read the mega screen plastered high on one of the high rise buildings. 'Our Victors'.
She cringed at that word, Victors. She might have escaped with her life, but the deaths of 22 other poor and young souls was nothing to celebrate. But intuition kicked in, and she hid her feelings away. Locking them away in her chest, she pressed her lips together as she kept her gaze on the ground under her feet.
Trying to avoid being overwhelmed, she concentrated on the beat her heels strummed against the cement. She drowned out the rest of the chaos, hoping to retreat into her own personal sanctity.
"Clove!" a distinct voice broke through her trance. She couldn't remember who it belonged to, but a certain quality to it sounded far too familiar. She got the same sensation she felt when she awoke in the hospital and found herself staring at Cato. "Clove!" the voice called out again.
This time, she could make more out of it. It was baritone, though not as deep as the one that belonged to the boy whose grip suddenly tightened around her hand. Cato had heard it too.
Her neck snapped up as she desperately searched to match a face and identity to the unidentified voice. But it was futile. There were too many people here, it would be impossible to pinpoint one of them.
Clove meant to say something to Cato, to ask him something. She opened her mouth, only to be ignored. He pretended not to hear her. Just like he could see through her lies, she could see through his. Despite his greater skill with deceit, she could read him effortlessly like an open book.
He didn't listen to her, silently leading her through the path that had been carved out by a selection of guards and Peacekeepers. They made their way to a large white building, with pillars and overreaching arches. She nearly lost her balance on the steps leading up to the entrance, had it not been for Cato's guiding hand on the small of her back.
Her ears were ringing from all of the noise. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her.
"What's wrong?"
His expression was unreadable, as per usual. He kept his gaze straight, though a hint of greater concern laid behind his blue eyes.
"I heard someone out there," she managed to get out.
His jaw tensed, his Adam's apple more prominent as he swallowed hard. He didn't something she wasn't expecting; he scoffed. He dropped her hand and stepped back, "Imagine that,"
Clove narrowed her eyes. Seven days they had spent together. There were soft whispers and tender words, but no jabs or sarcasm. This was yet another layer of his mask to be revealed. Everyone had been walking on eggshells around her, perhaps he had been too. Maybe this was his true nature, and she didn't like it.
"No, I heard someone. I'm sure," she stopped, "One person was calling my name,"
Why was he so disconcerted all of the sudden?
He averted his line of vision away from her, "Everyone out there was calling out our names," he shoved his hands in his pockets as he coolly leaned away.
She thought to respond, but she bit her tongue. He wasn't in a good spirits, and it was beginning to influence her mood.
"Let's go," he grabbed her hand, more aggressively than before. "The mayor is waiting to officially welcome us back. He's probably scheming of how to further his reputation with our return,"
She stiffened at the mention of the Mayor, for reasons unknown to her. It was a reaction her body was used to making at the sound of the name, not one her mind could make out. "The Mayor?" she echoed.
"Yeah," he sighed, dread dripping from his tone, "My dear Uncle will throw a fit if we take too long,"
And just like that it began; the facts started to fit in place. One piece of the puzzle was added, though many remained lost. She should have known, from the first breath she took, that it would be like this. She might not have kept her memories, but that didn't make her a basket case to be carted off as some prize of war. No, her intuition was beginning to kick in.
People were hiding things from her. The government, the escorts, even the one person her heart ached to trust the most. Complications were arising, and there was nothing to do but wait for the treachery and secrets to bear their ugly heads.
She didn't mention a syllable as Cato led her to the set of double doors down the lobby. Who knew what other puzzle pieces awaiting her behind them?
Clove had no idea, but she was about to find out.
End Chapter 3