The image of Katniss shooting a bow bounced around his head as he sat and stared ahead at the Capitol lights. It was so clear in his mind, yet he had never even seen her hold a bow.
That's how most things about Katniss were to him, inexplicably connected. Maybe, like Maysilee and Haymitch, the thought of facing death had bonded him to her faster than normal.
It had been about 40 minutes of pondering this since the older man left, when the elevator doors opened. There she was… her hair flowing down around her shoulder. Cato noted that the dark green shirt she wore matched the tones of her olive skin and made her eyes look silver.
I believe that color is called hunter green. How fitting.
He would have scoffed at himself if he hadn't been so distracted by the smile on her face. He didn't allow himself to believe that she would be happy to see him. He refused the idea that she would come up to the roof specifically to see him whenever Haymitch mentioned it.
But you waited anyways. Why else would she be here?
Katniss walked up to him, still smiling softly when she sat on the bench next to him.
There's that electricity again.
Cato had yet to realize he was also smiling until his smile got even wider when she spoke. One tiny little word.
"Hi." She looked over at him when she said it.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He had been worried that she would change her mind, decide not to trust him, or see him with the careers and be scared of him. But after an entire day of forcing himself to ignore her; here she was. Sitting next to him, smiling at him. He wanted to pinch himself, make sure that he hadn't fallen asleep on this bench and was dreaming about her.
Yeah, that won't make me look crazy or anything. Oh sorry, you're just so pretty I wanted to make sure you were real.
"Hi" he answered her.
"I don't like training." She admitted, huffing and crossing her arms.
How are you finding whining adorable right now?
"What's the matter? The knot tying station isn't the absolute thrill you thought it'd be?" He teased her.
"Oh shut up, Haymitch doesn't want us to show off. He thinks it will make the careers target us, as if they aren't already. I might as well just get a cut out of myself for Clove to practice throwing those knives at." She snorted. Cato laughed at her pouting; it was quite endearing.
"I'm sure she would absolutely love that. But dint worry about them. The kids from one aren't very good. Clove won't be an issue. It's a good thing you have an undercover with the careers." He poked her arm, entirely ignoring the way it felt like sparks were catching on his hand.
She looked over at him and scowled "Oh yes, how could I forget my knight in shining armor?".
She was joking when she said that, but that's all I want to be. Except she doesn't really need one.
Something told him Katniss would win weather he was her ally or not. Oh well, she didn't have to accept his help. She was going to get it anyways.
"That's me. Did you see me try out your bow today? I'm not as good as everyone is saying you are." He answered, giving her a smirk.
She whipped her head towards him, "Who told you I could shoot?"
"Haymitch." He shrugged.
"You talked to Haymitch?" her eyes were wide. Would she finally trust him?
"Yeah, both me and Brutus. He told me I have to get you a bow. I'll probably have to kill Glimmer for it. She's trying to pretend like we can't see every time she misses." Cato answered.
"Oh that's a shame. I'm sure it will be heartbreaking for you. You two seem… close." She scowled.
Is that jealousy? No, it can't be.
"I swear to god, if that girl gets any farther up my ass she's going to come out of my mouth." He said, and she laughed. He was too busy enjoying the sound when she said, "Thanks for the visual. I thought maybe you guys knew each other"
"How would I know her? No, she just thinks that if she flirts with me, I'll protect her or something" Cato shrugged.
"I don't know. Maybe you have secret meetings with her on the roof and have a secret alliance formed. Perhaps I am your 10-11 appointment, and she is 11-12." Cato knew she was mostly teasing, but the idea of it all was preposterous.
No little flame, you are the only girl I'll ever have eyes for. But your jealously is making my day now.
He decided to egg her on, "More like 11:30-12:30. I couldn't have you two bumping into each other in the elevator now, could I?"
Katniss scoffed, "Of course, why didn't I think of that?" She looked away from him, but Cato's eyes stayed on her. He tried to muster up some confidence, but there was still a slight shake in his voice when he spoke.
"No Kitty, you're the only girl I'll ever be meeting on the roof."
She looked over at him, and for the first time he couldn't read her eyes. The emotion they held at the moment wasn't one he had seen before. She shook her head and it was gone, the same teasing tone from earlier reappearing in her voice.
"You know I hate that nickname." Her familiar scowl replacing whatever that was.
Now this I can work with.
"Why? It works with your name, and I think it's cute." Cato shrugged.
"It's not cute and neither am I. How the hell does 'Kitty' have anything to do with my name?" She threw her hands up. Her little temper tantrums tonight just kept coming.
"Katniss. KAT-niss. Kat as in Kitty." Cato explained.
"That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard. I hate cats." She huffed again.
"Now that is the dumbest thing I have ever heard." He answered, "I always wanted a cat."
Didn't think the cat I got would be so temperamental.
"You can have my cat. Prim has this little abomination." She nearly growled as she spoke, "That stupid thing is the biggest pain in my ass. Its disheveled and mangy. But Prim acts like she is the prettiest little kitten in the world. That girl named it Buttercup and everything."
"What did Buttercup do to you?" Cato tried to hide his laugh.
"It hates everyone but Prim. It tolerates my mother but me? It would kill me and feast on me in a heartbeat. It hisses at me every single time I look at it. And it swats at my feet when I walk. It doesn't even have two full ears. One of them has a chunk missing. I would cook that stupid thing and tell Prim it ran away, but at least it catches rodents." She explained, still scowling.
"Well that's not very nice. I'm sure Prim would see through this whole charade that the cat 'ran away' when you bring home wild cat for dinner." Cato was full on laughing now.
"Stop laughing at me." She scolded him, crossing her arms.
"I'm not. I would never laugh at you, Kitty." He teased, still chuckling.
"You're infuriating. Absolutely infuriating." Katniss stood from the bench and walked towards the railing.
"You wound me." Cato dramatically put his hands to his chest and twisted his face as if he was in pain, nearly falling backwards off the bench. She turned to face him and smiled at his dramatic display before scowling again and marching towards him.
"Oh, get up you big baby. Mend your broken heart on your own time." She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the railing to stand by her.
Cato felt like his whole body had gone numb except for the part where her hand met his arm. Her hand was warm against his wind-chilled skin, with the same sparks from before trailing up and down his arm. Her hair blew around as she marched ahead of him, dragging him along and laughing at how the massive boy was nearly limp as she pulled him forward. She came to a stop at the railing but left her hand there. Her eyes stared quizzically at it and Cato let himself believe that she felt the same electricity he did for one moment. Of course, that was before her eyes flew to his and asked him a question that made him want to throw himself off the balcony to dodge it.
"What the hell are all these scars from?" She almost looked angry, but still shocked.
What's that… protectiveness? Well, it's not also feeling like you're going to implode every single time you touch me Katniss, but I'll take it. I'll take anything you are willing to give me.
"Training." He answered gruffly, enjoying living in his inner monologue instead of having this conversation.
"There's no way all of these are accidents from training Cato." Her hand was still on his arm, her grip tighter than before. The feeling shifted from the explosive euphoria he was used to towards a burning, pressing feeling. It was as if she was forcing him to give her an answer.
"Punishments too then." He wanted to rip his arm away, go anywhere else. Just a few hours ago he had thought that the only place he's ever want to be was with Katniss. The worst thing she could see him do was swing a sword. Now, this weakness, this vulnerability, was eating away at him. It's not that he couldn't handle her seeing him be weak, no in fact he wanted her to see who he really was. But overriding what had been instilled into him, beaten into him, was another story. Every single muscle in his body wanted to run away, but every ounce of mental willpower wanted him to stay. He just wished that he wouldn't have to have this conversation with her ever. Revealing his deepest secrets, the way they had tortured him to attempt to break him, his own father, it was too much.
Katniss was silent, when her hand moved to trace the long, thin line that had been resting underneath her index finger. If he hadn't been so distracted, he would have marveled at the way her hand felt on his skin again. But instead, he winced, remembering the way the whip had wrapped around him. It had not only struck his back, but his arms that were tied behind him as well. Her touch was so gentle as she shifted her hand to trace her thumb across it.
When her eyes looked up to meet his, there was a profound sadness in them. Cato's heart shattered into a million pieces when he saw the way she blinked back tears, creating a stony expression to hide it.
"I'm sorry they did this to you." She said, nearly a whisper. Her eyes left his and fell towards where her hand was still on his arm.
Suddenly, as he looked at her tracing the scar adjacent to it, one from a knife being dragged down his arm, he felt every ounce of apprehension fade from his body. Katniss was not like the others; he would not be penalized for vulnerability. Not now at least, not on this roof with her. Here she was, a girl who had suffered nearly her entire life at the hands of the Capitol. The very same girl who had stepped up to provide for her family at 11 years old, nearly starved to death, braved the treat of a public whipping or possibly execution every day to keep food on the table, had her sister ripped from her arms as she volunteered to die in place of her. That girl was tracing the scars on his arm with tears in her eyes, apologizing for the pain he had suffered.
If you weren't in love with her before, you surely are now. Her empathy is why she is the one that has to live. No matter what you do in there, you'll always be seen as another just another career. Maybe they'll frame it that you became a vicious, bloodthirsty killer, out for revenge after the death of the love of your life. Maybe they'll say you used Katniss as an excuse to kill your biggest competitor, Clove. It doesn't matter. Those stories cannot be the ones told. The only acceptable story is the girl who volunteered to save her sister, and the Career who ditched his alliance to protect her. In the end, youll be the one who dies. She has to live.
"Katniss." He tried to get her attention, speaking through his teeth, trying to ignore the white-hot pain in his chest at the thought of watching her die.
She didn't answer him, just kept tracing the light pink lines across his arm, her expression unreadable.
"Katniss." He said again, less forceful this time. He said it softly, as if he was begging her.
Her eyes flicked up towards him, an innocent look on her face. Yet, her eyes were still filled with the same empathy from earlier. Cato opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he got a chance.
"What made you so different from the rest of them?" She asked, her eyes squinting at him.
He sighed, remembering Haymitch's instructions to let her in.
Well, it's now or never. Just get it over with.
He looked down at her hand on his arm, and bent his elbow to catch her hand with his. He expected her to pull away, but instead she laced her fingers with his and let him rest her interlocked hands on the railing in front of them. Her hand fir perfectly in his, both calloused and rough. Her tiny hands compared to his bigger ones. Her warm olive skin against his pale white skin. Entirely different, yet very much the same.
"Everyone has a bigger purpose, Cato. Most people just don't figure out what it is until it's too late." His mother's words echoed in his head. His purpose was to save her. Katniss would change something. Hell, maybe she would bring the entire government to its knees one day. He knew that her fire would be what wakes people up, makes them see the depravity of it all, His responsibility was to ensure she lived long enough to do it. He owed her the parts of himself that nobody else could have. He owed her his story, so maybe one day she would remember it as she ripped this country to shreds.
He took a deep breath, using the fire spreading up from his hand to find the strength, and told her everything. He told her about his mother, about how she had raised him to see the cruelty in the Capitol in the middle of a district that adored it. He told her about his father, his cruel words, and the slaps he gave his mother before he finally abandoned them. He told her about how his mother has never cried, not once, when his father left to become a Capitol peacekeeper. He told her about his baby sister, how the doctor had let him hold her after she was born, how she looked just like his mother. He told her about how poor they had been, his mother taking odd jobs around the district to keep them afloat. He told her about Alice's first steps, her first word "Bubby". He told her how he wasn't sure that it counted as a word, but all he knew was Alice was referring to him, she was trying to say brother. He told her about how her growth was stunted, her body not receiving enough food to help her grow. He told her about how his mother had refused to send him to the Academy, until she was out of options. He told her how he knew he was going, but he still held onto his mother for dear life when the Peacekeepers came. He told her about his promise, about the way he had screamed it as they dragged him away. He told her about his first few days at the Academy, how he had been given a bunk with an older boy who picked on him, how he hid his tears in his pillow at night so the boy wouldn't have anything else to use against him. He told her how he had trained, became the star student, but still struggled to hide his disgust at it all. He told her about the first few beatings, the one after watching the Quell, and the one after refusing to nearly kill his opponent in hand-to-hand combat. He told her how they had called his father in then, who had been promoted from Peacekeeper to Torturer in the Capitol to set him straight. He told her how he had learned after his stay in the hospital after his encounter with his father, how to hide it all. He told her how he had only been 13 at the time, how he had nightmares every night afterwards. He told her why he decided to volunteer, about his decision to try to return home to his family rather than live out a monotonous life as a Peacekeeper, never see his family again, or worse, be promoted like his father was. He told her about everything and watched as the tears in her eyes finally spilled over and her hand shook in his.
When he had finished, Katniss's face was flushed, her nose red and sniffling, her cheeks wet with big streaks running down them. Not once did she interrupt him or tear her eyes from his. She listened intently, and then stared at him when he was done. Her hand gripped his, trembling slightly.
He tore his free hand from where it had nearly made a dent in the railing and lifted it to her face. He moved slowly, so she had plenty of time to refuse him, as he slowly wiped his thumb across her cheeks, clearing away the remnants of her sadness. She stood completely still as his hand cupped her cheek, and then fell away from her. She breathed out when his hand dropped and lifted her own.
She approached him like you would a wild animal, the way he had approached her. When her hand made contact with his face, he leaned into it a bit, mostly reveling in the feeling, but partly to bring his face down closer to her. When her thumb brushed across his cheek, he finally realized he had been crying as well. She brushed away his tears and cupped his face the same way he had hers.
"Thank you for telling me." She said, her eyes still looking into his, her hand still on his cheek.
Cato was sure if he tried to speak, he would moan or cry again or do something else generally embarrassing. Instead, he stayed silent as his heart swelled with love for the girl who cried at his pain, the girl who held his hand as he told her his story, the girl who wiped his tears away, the girl who in doing so, in providing her empathy, had absolved him of it all without even trying.
Without thinking, Cato dropped her hand and wrapped both of his arms around her, pulling her to his chest and placing his head on top of hers. She gasped as he did, her body stock still once more. But then, she exhaled, and her body melted into his. She turned her face, still damp from the tears, into the crook of his neck, brought her arms up to wrap around him, fisted his shirt in her tiny, little hands, and pulled him even closer towards her.
He felt like for the first time in 10 years, he was complete. He felt like he had been made to love her, as if his whole life was leading to this moment, with this girl in his arms.
Impending death be damned, this is worth it.