The next morning, Cato found himself in an elevator going down to the training center with Katniss. The building had been completely overhauled, but everything still felt too familiar. He had woken in the middle of the night, plagued by dreams of Katniss running through an arena with a tiny bundle in her arms. He laid awake for hours, pulling her as tight as possible to him as if he just got her close enough- he could keep her safe. Some odd part of him wanted to take her to the roof. Last year, it was the only place where they could be themselves. It was their safe haven of sorts, the only reprieve from the hell they found themselves facing. Part of him longed for that feeling again, their innocence and naivety. But it was long gone, buried in last year's arena with 22 other children. Facing their rooftop again was something he needed more time for.
But there wasn't any time.
So, instead, he forced himself back to sleep.
Haymitch's instructions rattled in his brain. He was spending a lot of time searching for double meanings in the man's words, looking for hints. Part of him thought he might be imagining things, a dying man searching for a way to live.
Make some friends out there; Finnick and Johanna are good options for allies. Seeder and Chaff would work as well.
He wants us with specific people.
Why?
There seemed to be a dark cloud hanging over the training room. They were 10 minutes late, but only half of the victors were in the room. He spotted Brutus out of the corner of his eye, throwing spears. Aside from the careers and a few others, most of the victors who had even shown up were sitting around talking.
"What an overwhelming number of choices for allies," Katniss mumbled sarcastically.
"It's fine." He answered, "We already have our picks."
"How do you know Finnick even wants to ally with us?" She frowned, walking towards the archery station.
"He asked me already," Cato responded.
"Oh, thanks for telling me." She rolled her eyes, running her fingertips across a metal bow, "Who else?"
"Brutus." He whispered, some part of him knew that his mentor planned to betray the other careers. Otherwise, he would already be over here talking to them.
Cato knew all too well how precarious that game was.
"As long as it's not Johanna." She frowned.
"Go scope some of the others out, save your shooting for the end." He instructed, placing a kiss on her cheek before heading over to the knives station.
Katniss spent most of her morning trying not to vomit.
At first, she blamed it on the baby. Most days, she was violently ill for the first few hours after she woke up. The way her stomach coiled into knots was not a new feeling, just an annoying one. She would argue with it in her head as if the fetus could hear or understand her. She tied knots and avoided looking at the camouflage station to save her life.
Maybe it was the memories of Peeta Mellark floating in her head that were making her so sick.
She felt like he was everywhere she looked, haunting her. Usually, she was pretty good at blocking out the guilt and shame that came from killing the boy who had saved her life. She forced his name from her mind and swallowed the bile in her throat when she looked at his family. But here, everything was different.
The building was like a graveyard of memories. At every corner, she expected to see the faces of children who died so she could live. Every time, no one was there, and the sound of a cannon rang in her head. Specifically, the way the boom had echoed across the field around the cornucopia as her district partner took his final breath. The games had been like a terrible dream to her, and she lived her life hiding from the pain and trauma they left behind in the farthest district away.
But there was nowhere to hide here.
Voices echoing in her mind, memories replaying on a loop, she was sure she had seen Rue's tiny frame hiding behind a pillar out of the corner of her eye.
So, she was sure that was the reason she was nauseous.
And then she met Mags.
The frail old woman could barely speak and yet wormed her way into Katniss's heart in a matter of moments. She showed her how to make a fishhook, the woman's skilled fingers slowing so Katniss could follow the steps. Kind and patient, the image of this woman volunteering for Annie Cresta replayed over and over in Katniss's head. She imagined Mags standing on a pedestal, the sound of a cannon signifying the start of the games.
She excused herself to spend the next 15 minutes hunched over the toilet.
That's where she found herself, sitting on cold tile, her back resting on the metal stall door. She took deep breaths, her shoulders strained from dry heaving.
"Katniss?" A familiar voice sounded in the empty room.
"This is the women's bathroom, Cato." She answered her husband.
Footsteps echoed outside her stall, "I don't care. Let me in."
She didn't answer; just closed her eyes and went back to breathing so she didn't vomit again.
"Katniss, let me in." He knocked on the door to the stall, "I need to make sure you're okay."
Her fingers clicked the lock open, and then he was in front of her. All concerned blue eyes and soft touches, the way he always was, even a year ago when she had first met him.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" His strong hands cupped her cheeks. She closed her eyes and imagined his large frame like a shield, blocking out all of the memories, the pain, the pity she felt for her fellow tributes.
"I'm fine." She answered him.
He was quick to answer, "No, you're not."
"It's just the- " She cut herself off, not thinking the Capitol was above putting listening devices in the restroom, "This is just hard."
It was a half-lie, but her husband was smart enough to put the pieces together.
"You're so strong, you can do this." He answered, brushing her cheek with his thumb. She opened her eyes, letting herself memorize his face.
You're what makes me strong.
I can't do this without you.
The words hung on her lips, unspoken, dangling in the air between them. She couldn't bring herself to say it, to admit even to herself, what had been truly haunting her.
The memories of Peeta, and the possibility that Cato could become memories just like him.
She could see it in her mind. She'd walk these halls like a ghost in a year, seeing him at every turn, the bundle in her arms to be the only thing she had left of him. She could almost feel it as if she could look into the future and become that woman.
She could tell him but saying it out loud would make it real. What good would it do? How could it benefit him? He couldn't save himself, and he would never want to. Not if it meant seeing her die. Not if it meant losing her and their child in one fell swoop.
So, she swallowed her fear, swallowed the image of Mags dying in the arena, swallowed the memories of Peeta, and forced a fake smile. "I love you." She said, hoping it was enough.
She knew he was aware she was holding back; she could see the questions in his eyes, but he dropped it, answering her with a kiss on the forehead. He helped her up, holding her hand as they left the bathroom.
The peacekeepers in the hall did a double take as they watched Cato leave the woman's room. A slight blonde one, who looked no older than they were, looked as if he was going to say something. All it took was one glare from her husband, and the boy retreated with his back against the wall.
"I made some friends," Cato said as if nothing was wrong.
Katniss looked over at him, "Me too."
"I want you to meet them, but you have to keep an open mind. They could be useful." He said, cryptically.
He led her over to a corner, where there was a mock setup of a woods scene. Two older black-haired tributes sat, hunched over what looked like the beginnings of a fire. The man was struggling with some flint, and the woman seemed to be absorbed in a piece of straw she was twiddling with her fingers. She recognized them, from District 3, she thought. She couldn't bring their names to mind.
"Beetee, Wiress, have you met Katniss?" Cato spoke to them.
The man, Beetee, stared up at her through a pair of ill-fitting glasses. "Briefly, during your victory tour." He answered the tone of his voice seemed analytical in nature.
"You have to strike it faster, to get it to light." She offered her help, taking the steel from his hand and striking it against the rock. The sparks flew down into the bed, igniting the kindling below.
Wiress spoke then, "Ah, the friction causes the steel to…"
"-chip, creating sparks." Beetee finished for her as Wiress began staring at her straw again, "Thank you."
"No problem, it took me a few years to get the flint and steel method down." She answered.
"Cato!" A voice bellows across the gym. Finnick stands with the male victor from 11, Chaff, waving him over with one hand and holding a trident in the other. It looked natural for Finnick, as if he belonged on a beach somewhere spearfishing, not so much for Chaff.
"Finnick promised us a trident lesson." Cato looked down at her with sympathetic eyes, glancing between her and the victors from 3.
"Well, go get your lesson then. I could use some practice over here anyways." She answered, giving him a soft smile. She could see that he didn't want to leave her, especially not after he had found her on the bathroom floor the last time he had. Katniss gave him a reassuring smile.
"I'll be back soon." He answered, placing a swift kiss on her temple, and running to join the others. She watched him for a moment, eyeing how the trident spun in his hand, almost as naturally as it did in Finnick's.
"By the corner of the table," Wiress spoke, looking up past Katniss's head. She turned to glance, seeing Plutarch Heavensbee standing and staring down at her. The memory of their odd conversation at the party replayed in her head as she met his eyes.
"Plutarch?" She asked the woman, looking away from the man's imposing gaze, "They made him head gamemaker this year."
"No." The woman said, "By the corner of the table, you can just…"
"Just make it out." Beetee answered for her, removing his glasses to squint upwards.
She tried to follow their gaze, staring intently at the feast table Plutarch was standing by. There was nothing, just lush purple carpeting, and ornate chairs. She squinted, staring intently, yet still saw nothing.
"I don't see anything, what is it?" She asked.
"Look." Beetee placed his hand on her chin, adjusting her head to just the right spot, "There."
It was a ripple, no more than 6 inches wide, a distortion that gave away what was meant to be hidden. It looked like the way the air distorts at the very tips of a flame, distorting the edges of the table leg and carpeting.
"A force field." Wiress notes.
"To separate us and them, I wonder what brought that on." Beetee wonders.
"It's probably my fault." She answered, still watching the distortion, "I shot an arrow at them last year.
Beetee and Wiress gave her a curious look, almost impressed. She meant to explain herself, but Wiress seemed distracted as she looked away, gazing intently at the soft shimmer of the force field.
"Electromagnetic." She described.
"How can you tell?" Katniss asked, tilting her head in confusion.
She was met with laughter from the pair, "Is it really obvious or something?" she asked.
"Look around you." Beetee said as he chuckled, "All the lights and holograms flicker every now and then. Why?"
"The force field is taking up too much energy?" She guessed.
"Yes. A flaw." Wiress answered.
Beetee nodded, "There's always a chink in the armor."
"Your girl is holding back," Finnick noted, watching Katniss talk to his district partner. Cato followed his gaze, watching his wife interact with the old woman. She looked happy, tying off some kind of feathered fishhook and smiling down at her work. Mags nodded.
"How so?" He answered Finnick's question.
"We all saw her shoot last year; everyone is waiting to see just how good she really is." The man answered, swinging the trident around with a practiced ease. Cato knew the feeling; it was how he felt with a sword in his hand.
"She's amazing, trust me." He answered, trying to copy Finnick's moves.
"Close, you need to keep it farther away from your body. If you get it too close, you run the risk of slicing yourself. Try again." The man instructed. Chaff had long since given up, but Cato was determined. If he was going to keep Katniss safe, he needed as many skills as he could get.
"I know you say she's great, but your opinion might be a little skewed," Finnick said as Cato copied him again, giving him a sly look.
Cato huffed as he dropped his form, his eyes catching on Katniss picking up a bow and heading into the glass-walled training room for archery.
"Fine, go find out for yourself." He motioned over to his wife, smirking at Finnick.
They placed the tridents back on their way over, as Katniss notched an arrow in her bow and selected a program to do.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as the program began. Finnick looked over at him with disbelieving eyes, and then Katniss shot her first arrow.
She hit her mark perfectly, the hologram flickering out as another appeared behind her. Arrow after arrow, she always hit her target. She spun and twisted, dodging fake spears and knives. One by one, each victor trickled over to the glass, in awe of his wife's skills. Pride seeped through him as he watched her, followed by amazement. He had seen her split arrows on a bullseye in the woods of 12, and watched her in the arena, but never in action this way. She was graceful, like a wildcat with fire in her eyes. He was so in love with her that he was sure he'd burst with it.
"Holy shit," Finnick said next to him.
On the other side of the crowd, he caught Brutus's eyes. His mentor nodded at him once, before training his eyes on Katniss again.
"Where did she learn to do that in 12?" He heard someone whisper, Cashmere, he guessed.
Katniss took her final shot, hitting two holograms at once, sending the shattered pieces of them raining down on her from the ledges above. She stood with a proud smile.
"Still think my opinion is skewed?" He smirked at Finnick as Katniss turned to face them.
Wiress and Mags were the only ones who clapped. The rest of the victors scattered as Katniss walked out of the training room.
"There's the girl on fire," Finnick smirked next to them.
"My flame," Cato smirked, wrapping his arms around her shoulder, and planting a kiss on her head.
"That was impressive, I'll admit I was wrong." Finnick complimented her as he looked at Cato.
"Wrong?" Katniss asked.
Cato smiled, "Finnick didn't believe me when I said you could shoot."
"I never said I didn't believe you, just that you might be biased." Finnick defended, putting his hands up.
A smirk lit up his wife's face, "I'm sure you could do better."
He knew she was daring the district 4 victor as she held out her bow for him to take and slipped her quiver off her back.
Finnick gulped as he took the bow, but Cato knew he was not one to back down. He entered the room, fuddling with the settings as he started up the program.
"You're being mean." He smiled down at his wife.
Katniss looked up at him innocently, "If he wants to be our ally, he should prove himself."
"You're an evil little thing." Cato shook his head, watching as Finnick struggled to notch his first arrow.
"You love me." She countered, tangling her hand with his.
Finnick's first arrow dropped to the ground as he struggled to shoot it correctly, moving to use another arrow as a knife as the hologram got too close to him.
"More than anything," Cato answered his wife, laughing at his friend's ire as he managed to shoot his second arrow, the string snapping him in the arm as it went.
Two more targets appeared, and Cato cocked his head, "Did you lock it on the hardest setting?"
"Of course, I did." Katniss smiled as the one hologram got Finnick as he was distracted trying to notch an arrow, the lights in the training room flashing red as he failed.
Katniss clapped.