How hard do you have to pull on your hair to pull chunks of it out? Will that be enough pain to distract from reality?
He paced around the cave after unsuccessfully trying to wake up Katniss once more. She had yet to wake up since she finally allowed herself to pass out, which was over a day ago. He refused to sleep, stress forcing him awake. Night had fallen in the arena now, the only sounds were of his ragged breath and his footsteps that echoed throughout the empty cavern.
Katniss is dying. Katniss is dying. Katniss is-
He knew what it was. He had been checking her wound every hour, repeatedly rinsing with antiseptic, changing the bandage. Yet, the wound still darkened into a devilish black color, now extending into the veins around it. She was burning with fever, sweating, and dehydrated with no way to force liquid into her system. She would not wake up, not until he could find a way to help her. It wasn't an infection… he had been too religiously devoted to caring for her.
Poison, of course. Why wouldn't Clove poison her knives? She had probably been saving that one for Katniss, made it just for her. To ensure she died, to ensure there would be no hope, to ensure that even if she survived the wound… the deadly coating on the blade would finish the job for her. And now- now I have to watch… now I have no choice but to sit here helpless while the fucking poison spreads. Maybe, once it reaches her heart, mine will stop too.
"Fuck! Why? Why won't you help me?" He threw the canteen he was holding across the cave, screaming at the barren rock above him. Of course, the message was for his mentor, Katniss' mentor, the sponsors. He had begged them repeatedly, all day. Since the moment he realized what was happening, he had relentlessly pleaded… only to be met with radio silence. Slowly but surely, he felt himself unraveling. Since his meltdown last night, he had felt a crazed, unstable energy inside of him. The games were finally taking their toll on him, and if Katniss died, he knew that it would claim him fully.
How many times? How many times had I explained to her that I would rather die in here than go on knowing she is dead? The moment I saw her, the moment I watched her volunteer, the moment I saw the fire, I knew she had to survive. I knew, god I fucking knew I would love her, I knew I would let myself die to save her. She can't, she can't die like this.
He kneeled next to her body, currently swaddled in blankets in order to attempt to break the fever. He knew it was no use, but he had to do something. He pulled her to him, cradling her unconscious form in his arms. He felt himself shaking, tears welling in his eyes. He refused to let them fall, so instead he begged.
"Katniss, please. You have to wake up, please." He whispered to her, stroking her cheek. She was so pale, as if she were a ghost. She did not look peaceful, as if she were in pain even in her sleep. He leaned down, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.
"I know it hurts beautiful; I know. Please, just wake up. I need- "He choked on his own words, barely able to say them. He had never, not once in his entire life, said them before. He knew they were true.
I vowed to die for her for fuck's sake. Of course, it's true.
"Katniss, I need you." The words felt like a weight being lifted from his chest. As if he had spent his entire life holding them in, and in most ways he had. He had spent 10 years hiding weakness, never allowing anyone in.
"You can't die. I love you. God, I love you so much… I need- I have to be able to help you. I don't know what to do." He felt himself break, his hopelessness finally bursting through the dam. Tears leaked down his cheeks as he clutched her body, nothing but the pain in his chest and the despair that wracked him.
"Did you hear that?" He looked to the ceiling once more, pleading with the people of the Capitol, Haymitch, Brutus, Enobaria, anyone who was listening. "I love her. I need her. Please, I am begging. Don't make me watch her die."
The soft alarm of a parachute came only seconds later. A beacon of hope in his grief. He moved faster than he ever had in his life, jumping out of the cave to catch it. In the dim light from the lantern, he nearly ripped the capsule in half to reach the gift inside. When he saw what it was, he felt his heart sink into the rocky floor below him.
Bags of IV fluids: hydration and nutrition, more bandages, more antiseptic, a few granola bars, no medicine. A note rested on top of the supplies.
Price of antidote is extremely high. Something in the works. Hold on and stay alive. - B&H
At least she won't die of dehydration now.
He tried to force some positivity in himself as he hooked up the IV, wedging a stick between two rocks to hold the bag up. He secured the needle in her arm with a bandage and then sat, holding her hand with one arm and eating a granola bar with the other. He felt strange as he remained there, the anthem playing in the background. Nobody had died today, and he had ignored it yesterday. He hadn't wanted to see Marvel's face, and especially not Rue's. He wished to go back in time two days, and completely ditch the plan of blowing up the career's supplies.
Rue would be safe, alive and well. And I wouldn't be sitting here watching Katniss die. Nothing good had come of that. Nothing.
No matter how hard he wished, he would never be able to undo his mistakes. He was once again feeling the hopelessness creep up on him. It's cold breath on the back of his neck and the aching pain in his chest forced him to change his train of thought. He decided to analyze the note.
Why would they jack up the price of her antidote? Do they want her dead? Was the ceremony we had for Rue being seen as rebellious? Of course, it was. Everything we are doing is rebellious. Snow already was more than likely not a fan of Katniss, and I have definitely not helped. Of course, they want her dead. They probably want me dead too. 'Something in the works." – What does that mean? Is something being planned?
Cato received his answers moments later when the anthem finished playing, only to be followed by the sound of trumpets.
"Attention! Attention tributes!" The voice of Claudius Templesmith boomed overhead.
"Congratulations on how far you have all made it. I come to you with two, very special announcements. I would like to formally invite you to a feast that will commence at the cornucopia at dawn. This will be no ordinary feast… each of you needs something, desperately."
The antidote. I will take down every single person in this arena if I have to. I don't care, not right now.
Hope filled his body once more, a plan already churning in his mind as he listened to Claudius explain more about the feast.
"And now, onto my second announcement. There has been a slight rule change. The previous requirement, allowing only one tribute to be crowned victor, has been scrapped. Two tributes will be crowned, so long as one is male and the other is female. That will be all, good luck!"
He sat in shock; his mind pulled from planning to digest the information he just received. He can live. He can keep his promise to Katniss. He can get the antidote, save her, and go home with her. It seemed too good to be true.
Claudius Templesmith, you are my new best friend.