A/N: Hi! This is the first chapter I've updated at a reasonable time in a very long time. Finally done with AP tests forever! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but tell me what you think in a review!

Disclaimer: Honestly, you know the drill. No Alexander Ludwig, no dice.

Chapter Thirteen

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I grit my teeth as Ambrosia rips off another wax strip. Meanwhile, Nika inspects my face critically. "We're almost done," she promises. "You're actually in pretty good shape, beauty care wise."

"Oh thanks so much," I roll my eyes. I twitch impatiently in the chair, and Easton pouts.

"I'll never get your nails done if you keep squirming like that!" That threat is enough for me to sit as still as possible, even though staying still is the last thing I want to do. Ever since the prep team arrived last week, there have been nonstop preparations for the Victory Tour.

Letta has been planning the climactic District Two Celebration for once Cato and I return from making our rounds around Panem. Enobaria and Brutus have been on public relations duty, figuring out how exactly Cato and I are going to present ourselves to the Districts. Honestly, I just want to get this all over with. Being showcased in the eleven other districts will be awkward at best, but probably downright miserable as well. After a week of planning speeches, we were finally allowed to leave on our Tour.

Every year, the Victor of the most recent Hunger Games is carted off from district to district, supposedly for celebratory purposes. After visiting the other districts, there is a grand ball in the Capitol, which is televised across Panem. Thankfully, unlike the Hunger Games, it's not mandatory viewing.

This year, since there are two Victors, people are making an even bigger fuss over the Victory Tour and Ball. Instead of spending only two days in each District, Cato and I will be forced to spend at least four. Calculate in travel time and the Ball, and I won't be back in District Two for another two and a half months.

I sigh as I cast a look as we speed out of District Two. I will miss my mother- and maybe even Tara. Thank God I have Cato, otherwise I don't know what I would do with myself.

"Alright, done!" Easton chirps. "You can go eat dinner now!" I hop out of the chair enthusiastically and finally get a chance to look at myself in the mirror. The prep team has given me the full beauty treatment: waxings, hair infusions, skin exfoliations. "Don't get too excited," he calls behind me. "This is only the base treatment."

I groan and go to pull something out of the closet. Merino has prepared an extensive wardrobe for me to wear these next few months. Since I'll be in the public eye constantly, she gets to control exactly what I wear. She had informed me that with a rather demonic look in her eye, but as I survey my options, it's not too bad. The clothes are all a little tighter than comfortable, but overall, it's my style.

I put on a pair of gray leggings and a soft white sweater. Since it is almost November, I also pull on some long leather boots to keep my feet warm. Furrowing my brow, I turn to check out the back of the sweater and realize that a large panel of it is missing so that it showcases my slim waist and toned back. Because of course the Capitol isn't happy unless I'm baring my skin. I contemplate changing but am interrupted.

"Keep it on, I like it," commands Cato as he watches me from the doorway. The way he's leaning against the doorframe makes me think that he's been there for a while.

"Did you watch me change, you perv?" I demand. Even though he's admittedly seen most of my body by now, I'm still not completely comfortable with the emerging sexual aspects of our relationship.

He grins crookedly at me, "Relax Clo, I didn't see any of the good parts. Maybe lock the door next time though." His eyes brush over my exposed back idly, "You should keep that sweater on."

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" I retort. Nevertheless, I close the closet door and walk to stand next to him. I let his arm wrap around my waist and his fingers begin to stroke at the bare skin absentmindedly. Sighing into his touch, I lean my head against his chest.

He begins to steer me towards the dining car to eat. I walk beside him, still wrapped up in his embrace. The top of my head reaches his chin, so I have the perfect angle to lazily press kisses to his neck. I giggle as he shoves me against the wall of the hallway and guide his hands to caress my breasts through the delicate sweater. He handles them roughly, and I dissolve into incoherent moans.

Suddenly, the door to the dining car flings open. "Stop it, you two. Save the lover bit for the cameras," Enobaria snidely teases as she catches us. I jump from my reverie and flush as I see at least ten other faces looking back at us. Since our Victory Tour is the one leading up to the Quarter Quell and we have two victors, more previous victors have joined us on the Tour. Instead of just our mentors Brutus and Enobaria, Lyme, Hal and Sparta have joined us as well. I give silent thanks that my mother couldn't come because she had to watch Tara. I don't think I could have handled it if she had somehow caught me and Cato making out. My mind flashes back to the Training Center last week, and I flush again.

Cato and I break apart, and I already miss his touch. Which is kind of pathetic, really. Flustered, I shuffle to my seat, trying to will the aching in between my legs to abate. Cato strides in after me, completely unfazed. I hate how he affects me so much more than I do him. We both sit down and begin to dig into the hearty array of food for us. I tune out all conversation and simply enjoy the sumptuous Capitol food. I reach for buttered garlic rolls, crackling roast duck, rich mashed potatoes with savory gravy. I begin to slurp down some noodles sautéed with herbs and spices when I realize someone is calling my name.

"Huh?" I look up and realize that once again everyone is staring at me. I blink at them before hurriedly swallowing my food. Cato snorts with laughter as I swipe at the noodle stuck to my chin. I glare at him before turning back to Letta.

She gives me and my antics a disgusted look before continuing. "We will be arriving in District Twelve late tomorrow, so get as much rest as you can. The day after we all have to be up bright and early for the speech!" I groan inwardly. At least I have a day and a half more of rest and relaxation. If you can call being trapped on a 400 km/hour train with Letta rest and relaxation.

Cato butts in, "I've always wondered why Victory Tours are done in order of district number. Geographically, wouldn't it make more sense for us to start with District Four and work our way in with a spiral?" Cato's clearly a lot more knowledgeable about the Victory Tour than me. He's also way better at geography and history than me, so I just listen.

Letta sniffs, "We do it by tradition. And traditionally, Victory Tours are done by descending district number." She's clearly done with the subject because she primly picks up her fork and knife and begins to cut her food into miniscule pieces. I catch Cato's eye and shrug.

After I scrape up the last remaining dribbles of apple soufflé and caramel, I sit back and sigh contentedly. Cato and I are the last ones left at the table because collectively we packed away about a third of the food. I languidly turn my head to watch Cato stuff one final bit of chocolate cake into his mouth.

I feel the aftereffects of overeating creeping over me. "Bed?" he asks, with a hint of a smile in his exhausted voice. I nod and lethargically stumble to my room, dragging him along behind me. I swing open the door and drop his hand. Yawning, I debate about whether or not to get changed into my pajamas. Ultimately, I give in and collapse face down on the bed.

Cato softly shuts the door and sits down next to me. "Clove," he soothes. "You can't go to sleep like that."

"You're not the boss of me," I sleepily point out, refusing to budge.

"That can't be comfortable. C'mon, just go change."

"Nooooo," I grumble. "Make me."

Cato stops for a moment. For a minute, I think I've won- I hear him taking off his clothes and the thump of his belt hitting the floor. The next minute, his warm lips are close to my neck. "Maybe I will then." I feel him starting to tug my boots off, and I kick my legs just to be difficult. He chuckles, "Princess, I'm trying to help you." I obediently stop moving so that he can take off both of my leather knee-high boots. I go rigid when I feel his large hands on my waist. Cato flips my body over with ease so that I'm lying on my back next to him. He is shirtless and clad only in boxers, and I perk up at the sight. I lick my lips and feel the increasingly familiar urge in the pit of my stomach. Cato is far, far too attractive for his own good.

"What- what are you doing now?" His fingers pull at my leggings so that they slide down my legs, and I lock my eyes on him breathlessly. As they inch down my legs, I watch his sinewy muscles in his arm and torso hungrily. I take in his handsome face in concentration. Breathlessly, I'm left in only some skimpy panties and completely overwhelmed. "I knew you had an ulterior motive," I mumble.

He chuckles as he tosses the pants over his shoulder. "Of course." Surprisingly, he doesn't linger on my bare legs and continues. The sweater is pulled over my head slowly, leaving me in my bra and underwear. Cato touches the lace of my bra lightly, "I like this a lot, Princess." I shiver from a combination of his erotic touch and the cold room. "Here," he hands me his undershirt, a white cotton t-shirt, and I pull it over my head obediently. Of course, it's huge on me- the edge of the shirt hits my mid-thigh and it keeps slipping off my shoulder. But I am now enveloped by Cato's reassuring scent and his intoxicating cologne, so I don't quite feel the need to complain. We burrow under the covers, fumbling around in the darkness. I'm not used to sleeping in a bra, so I shift restlessly in an effort to find a comfortable position.

After a while, Cato sighs and slips his hand under the shirt around the back. He struggles for a second with the clasp, but finally unhooks it. "You're ridiculous," he reprimands.

"Oh, like you hated getting the chance to take off my clothes," I shoot back.

While I slip off the bra, he takes the opportunity to palm my breasts. I moan lazily and discard the bra over the side of the bed. His hands deftly massage my breasts, and his thumb roughly flicks my sensitive nipple. The skin-on-skin contact is heavenly. I roll onto him to straddle him and begin to move wantonly against him. "I thought you wanted to go to sleep," he teases.

I shrug and weave my fingers through his hair, "I want you too, though." I lick my lips and look away shyly, "So much, Cato."

Cato grins up at me, watching me roll my hips into his. His blue eyes gleam in the dark, drinking in my disheveled appearance. "You're gorgeous, Clove Feldspar."

I scoff. I'm wearing an oversized t-shirt and probably still have food on my face. "You're full of shit." Something about this moment feels so intimate and precious, I want to be memorialized. For a brief second, I want Cato to take me on this bed. But he's tired, and I'm tired…

-I want the first time to be when we both have lots of energy- I shake my head, embarrassed by my own lecherous thoughts.

I roll off of him and curl up into his side instead. "No I mean it!" he insists. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He yawns, "Promise."

"You loooove me," I whisper singsongingly into his ear.

Cato grunts in response, already half-comatose. He winds a comforting arm around my waist, "Go to sleep, Clove." I smile- and for once, I listen to him.

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I wake up early the next morning, shifting around and realizing that Cato is no longer next to me. Figuring he is getting something to eat again, I shuffle to my closet to get dressed. I regretfully take off Cato's soft shirt and scrounge for something remotely comfortable of my own. After finally finding a loose-fitting long sleeve shirt, I pull it on. As I admire the fine cloth- from District Eight for sure- I spot a movement in the bay window.

Suspicious, I fling it open to the brisk morning air. Cato stands by the railing, idly watching the trees rush by. I catch a glimpse of glistening ocean- are we by District Four? It makes me a little sad that I don't know anything about the other districts or Panem at all. All I know is Two and the Hunger Games.

And how to kill. I shiver and blame my bare feet.

"It's a new day," he observes, nodding at the rising sun.

I lean against the railing as well, "Well observed, genius." I grin at him, expecting some sort of reaction. Instead, Cato continues to stare broodingly off into the distance. My smile drops, "Cato, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this anymore."

My heart stops for a second. "Do….. do what anymore?" I ask in a small voice. The sinking feeling in my stomach knows what he's talking about though. I was so stupid to think that this could last. That's why all the alone time I spend with Cato feels too good to be true.

"Any of it anymore," he sighs. I furrow my brow. This conversation isn't about me and him. I sigh relievedly.

But something about his voice makes me think that I should still be worried. "Cato, what are you saying?" He doesn't respond. "Talk to me," I order.

The wind rushing past us is so fast that I can barely hear his voice, even from a few inches away. "What are we doing?"

I answer haltingly, "We're….. going on the Victory Tour?" I'm not sure what he's getting at, and that frustrates me.

"And then?"

"Well, we'll go back to Two. Except when we have to go to the Capitol to mentor and for parties and whatever else they drag us back for." I grimace at the thought.

"And then?" he prompts.

I think for a moment, and the whipping of the wind fills the silence. I come up with nothing. "And then…. that's it, okay? What else is there?" The realization that this is our life from now on is upsetting- something that I've tried to avoid thinking about.

Cato's face drops to his hands. "Exactly. This is our life now, Clove. I used to think that winning the Hunger Games was everything, that afterwards my life would be complete. But I just….. I just feel so empty." He turns to face me, "The only time I ever feel anything anymore is when I'm with you- but even you're not free. The Capitol owns you too." I smile painfully at his words and raise my hand to stroke his hair soothingly.

He lets my fingers run through his hair while he thinks. His eyes are distant though. When he finally speaks up again, his voice sounds broken. "We're all just stories in the end, Clove. I want my life to mean something. I can't go on living at the beck and call of those bastards."

Suddenly, I understand what he's getting at. I abruptly drop my hand from his hair and step back. "You want to join the rebellion." It's not a question, just a shocked statement.

Cato senses my horror and grabs my hand urgently with both of his. "Clove, the time is right- I can feel it. We could do it."

I shake my head fiercely. "Cato- it's dangerous. I can't- I can't…. not after we almost died in the Games." How can he even begin to think about the glory of overthrowing the Capitol? We were just in the games a few months ago- he knows how easily the Capitol could bring us down. "We need to focus on staying alive right now," I say firmly.

"I don't feel very alive right now."

Anger flares in my stomach. "Why can't you just be happy with what you have?" All this talk of having his life mean something had struck a chord. I think about how content I had felt last night. He obviously doesn't feel the same, and that hurts me more than I want to admit. "-you have me- why aren't I enough for you?!"

But my question comes out sounding immature and selfish. I clear my throat and try again. "Think about Cassie- how the Capitol could come for her in retaliation." His shoulders drop in surrender. "Think about us," I continue quietly. "The Capitol wouldn't stop until they tear us apart, one way or another." I lace my fingers through his. "Think about us," I coax.

He sighs dejectedly. "You're all that I think about, Clo. You and Cassie- I want to….. I need to keep you two safe." He murmurs into my hair, "You deserve to be free from them." His eyes are bright blue as they stare into me. "You're so precious to me, Clove, more precious than you'll ever know."

Cato is wrong though- I've never felt so loved or cherished in my whole entire life. I'd walk to the ends of the earth for this boy, and in this moment, I know we're on the same page. I look up at him, mind working furiously. I'm no good with words.

Instead, I pull him to me for a deep kiss. His tongue parts my willing lips easily, and I slant my mouth against his. Cato cups my face with his two hands then runs them through my loose hair. I sigh against his mouth and move my lips against his feverishly. I kiss him hard on the mouth, pouring all my fears and frustrations and emotions into his heavenly mouth. After a few minutes, we break apart, panting for breath.

Cato tucks some of my hair behind my ear. "I want to keep you safe from them." I frown, but he continues nevertheless, "I can't let them steal you away from me. Not after everything we've been through."

So that's what this is about. I can't blame him for the way he feels- as Careers, we're trained to always be on the offensive, to never let the enemy even have a chance to attack. Ever since the Games though, I've been wary of my killer instincts and ashamed of who I was. But maybe… maybe it's time for the old Clove to make a reappearance. I have something worth fighting for now, after all.

I crane my neck to look him dead in the eye. "I don't need you to keep me safe. We're a team, remember?" I sigh, "We'll talk to Lyme together about it. No promises though." We stand there in silence for a while, watching the new day rise before us.

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