Author's Note: Hello again! I hope you all enjoyed reading the pilot chapter of Crowd of Two! I got 7 reviews, which is so great, thank you everyone! It means so much to me that people enjoyed reading it, and especially those who went and read Wrong Crowd too.
I thought I should tell you my plan for how I'm going to update this story. I plan to update one chapter a week, and that's actually for your benefit. I've got my end of year exams approaching fast and I'm not going to have much time to update, but I have plans for the next seven chapters. I thought it would be better to steadily update once a week, rather than update a few times a week for two weeks and then have to go on hiatus for a month or two while I get my head back in order. I hope you understand! :)
This chapter is a day early, and it's because I received a wonderful review (not that all the others weren't!) from Panda-Chan8 and this is for her: "Hey, this Panda_Chan girl left me a really nice, long review. I think I'll update Crowd Of Two soon, just for her!" Enjoy chapter two!
Crowd of Two
Chapter Two
Grey's POV
For a while I sit in the corner of the operating room, as close to Cato as I'm allowed to be. He's all I have left, after all. I don't even think about going back to District 4 in a week's time, the reaping seems like so long ago that I can barely remember my old routine, let alone fit back into it. But somehow I know that as long as I stay with Cato, everything will turn out okay.
It's dark when we land somewhere in the Capitol and I disembark surrounded by Peacekeepers. I see in the dim light a stretcher that holds an unconscious Cato, a silver insulation blanket wrapped tightly around him. A young man in medical scrubs runs after the moving stretcher, holding a liquid filled bag that connects to Cato's arm through a drip. Instinctively I try to move towards him, wanting to comfort the recovering victor, but a Peacekeeper grabs my arm and roughly keeps pulling me in the direction everyone else is moving. No one speaks and from the way we are winding through back-streets, I figure that everyone is trying to get us out of the Capitol with as least fuss as possible.
As we come into view of the station, the train engine already warming up and issuing a final boarding call, our group picks up speed and starts to jog. I can't see why, the train is only open to people related to the Hunger Games: victors, escorts, mentors. So why are we in such a hurry? I strain to try and see Cato's stretcher but it has disappeared, presumably to a more secluded boarding area. There are a few Capitol citizens in their usual flamboyant outfits heading home from work and they look up when we pass. One man is wearing a pink ensemble while holding a black briefcase, and for a split second that confuses me.
A Peackeeper steps between us, shielding me from them as I am tugged up onto the platform and pushed into a waiting carriage. I hear the sound of untraceable camera flashes as the doors slide to a close and I realise that even though we are out of the games, we haven't stopped running from the Capitol.
I take a few deep breaths while I stand in the entrance of the train as it begins to move away from the station. Suddenly a door opens and a group of people run towards me screaming in delight. It's not until they have leapt at me that I realise I'm in the embrace of my escort Domitia and my prep team. I'm in the same outfit from the games, my entire body caked in blood and dirt because I refused to leave Cato while he was in surgery. The doctors had poked and prodded me to prove that I was still functioning correctly while I was sitting in the operating theatre, and my tracker had been removed along with any serious injuries, but apart from that my state of wellbeing is appalling. I'm surprised by Domitia's tight hold over me even with the gore staining my clothes and I realise that I must not have been the only person to grow during this year's games.
I try to distinguish one voice from another but they are all shrieking either about how proud they are of me, how attractive they always thought Cato was, or how I need to go through another waxing session. I nod and smile through it, comforted by the familiarity of insignificant chatter.
Eventually they sense that I'm exhausted and just want quiet and they leave to another carriage, gossiping about all the upcoming events I will be forced to attend. I have a few seconds of pure blissful silence before the door from the opposite side of the carriage slides open and Finnick steps in. He comes closer and his eyes take in my blood soaked arena clothes. Finnick's lips twitch into a smirk that he tries to hide as he looks me up and down.
"Hey sweetheart." My dark haired mentor murmurs, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. There are no congratulations; no pride that I won, just a damp sort of happiness in both of our hearts, trying to be pleased but knowing that there is no way this is the end of the nightmare. I'm glad that I have someone who feels the same way that I do.
"How is Cato?" I ask him once we have sat down next to each other. Finnick turns to look at me, a look of genuine interest on his face, as if he wasn't sure if I had been making my feelings for him up until now.
"I haven't heard much. Earlier I saw his mentor, Brutus, guarding a door in the next carriage; I suppose that's where he is recovering. Be wary of Brutus, it wouldn't surprise me if he tried to tap into Cato's training to get his old tribute back."
"I'll keep that in mind." I reply quietly, getting up to find the room Finnick referred to, when I suddenly remember something.
"Wasn't there meant to be an interview with Caesar Flickerman tonight?" I ask, dreading what could have possibly happened in order to cancel such an important event and wondering how I could have forgotten.
"There was. But when you and Cato pulled that little hoax, you basically stuck it to the Capitol and the president is personally offended. The interview was cancelled as they were afraid that you would say something that could be destructive, and we got you out as soon as possible."
"Afraid that we could start something?" I tentatively repeat, "What, like a rebellion?" Finnick's eyes are emotionless, but there's a certain fear deep inside that makes my blood run cold.
"Sweetheart, the rebellion has begun."
With Finnick's cryptic words repeating in my head, I move into the next carriage with the intention of finding Cato. I know that he'll know just the right thing to do. During the games he was there for me, saving my life even though it went against everything he had been taught. But when I step into the other carriage and nearly collide with Cato, I realise that Finnick is right; things have changed. His light blue eyes are ice cold and he stares me down as if he is trying to make me disappear with his gaze alone. Compared to my ghastly appearance Cato looks angelic, his body scrubbed clean of all the grime and his multiple wounds removed completely by the Capitol doctors. The only thing that reveals his recent exploit is how he holds his left hand stiffly at his side, almost as if he doesn't have full strength with it yet.
"You shouldn't be here." He says coldly. I open my mouth, ready to reply, but his expression makes the words fade away before I have a chance to say them.
Cato folds his arms menacingly as he leans against the wall.
"I suppose your mentor has told you about the rebellion." He states; it's not a question. "I think it would be best for the both of us if we just pretended none of the things in the arena happened. I don't care about you, you don't care about me. We were blinded for a few days by the stress we were under, but now I see the truth. I'm a career and you are some scum from 4. I will be disembarking from the train with my mentor as soon as we arrive in District 2." I stare at Cato, my mouth open in shock. I can't make myself say anything, even though all I want to do is scream at him that he's wrong, that his mentor has just put words into his mouth. I had expected Cato to be like he was when he sacrificed his win for the both of us back in the arena, because he had cared for me then. But I don't fully believe my own story, and all I can do is slap him in the face and run towards the end of the train, sobbing with tears streaming down my face.