"So, how'd it go?" Haymitch asked as they gathered in the living room of their penthouse.
Cato averted his eyes, staring down at the floor. Out of the corner of his eyes, he swore he could see Katniss doing the same.
What had she done?
It couldn't possibly be worse than ripping the whole place to shreds.
"What the fuck did you two do?" Their mentor shook his head, "Tell me you at least did something."
He looked over to Katniss, who was pretending to pick her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.
I guess I'll go first.
"They put a replica of my sword from the games last year out, so I used it." He admitted, leaving out the part about his temper tantrum.
He should have known Haymitch wouldn't buy it.
"And?" The man motioned for him to continue.
"He showed them his skills Haymitch." Effie came to his rescue, "We've all seen how good he is with a sword."
He smiled at their escort, thankful for her good graces even if it was undeserved.
Cato sighed, wrapping his arm around Katniss, "I might have gone a little overboard."
"What the hell does that mean?" Haymitch frowned.
All of the eyes in the room were on him, waiting expectantly for an answer. Katniss must have seen the aftermath of it all, but she just continued staring down at her lap.
"I ripped the whole gym to shreds, and then asked them if that was what they wanted to see." He explained, feeling a lot like a child in the principal's office.
Haymitch, Effie, and their stylists just kept staring. Cato was sure you'd hear a pin drop in the room.
"I guess now is a bad time to say I hung Seneca Crane," Katniss spoke up.
Cato's head snapped to her, feeling an odd mixture of shock and pride.
I was wrong.
That might be worse.
I should have known better than to doubt her.
He expected screaming, Effie would screech about manners and Haymitch would get all red-faced and start hurling things at the wall. He'd seen it plenty of times, and yet nothing happened. Effie looked like she might say something, and then shook her head and leaned back on the couch.
Haymitch just motioned for an avox and ordered a mint water. It had become his drink of choice since he stopped drinking after Evelyn had recommended he use it to distract from the cravings.
Nobody said anything, even as Caesar's face lit up the screen and the scores started being announced. Haymitch nursed his water, his hands shaking as he gripped the glass. Effie just stared off into space.
They both scored a 12.
That night, he woke from a horrifying nightmare for the third time and finally gave up on sleep. If the pregnancy had given any benefit, it was that Katniss seemed to be sleeping better.
Again, he had the urge to go to the roof. He even slipped on a shirt and walked up the stairway, like a practiced routine. He could see the image in his mind so clearly, all the memories that lived in their safe haven. It was so close he could practically feel them as he gripped the handle.
Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone else was up here.
What made you so different than the rest of them?
The moon.
His hands shook for a moment as he thought about the man he used to be, the boy who died in the arena, the boy who fell in love with a girl the moment he laid eyes on her.
I can't do this.
He turned and walked back down the steps.
His footsteps echoed in the empty corridor as he made his way down, closer and closer to the ground, and finally below. He just wandered, paying attention to the time displayed on all of the clocks on the walls. He walked through the gymnasium, the evidence of his destruction vaguely cleaned up. The sword was suddenly missing. There was no sign of Katniss's stunt.
He ventured into the back hallways surrounding the gym, where the more specialized training rooms were. They were rarely ever used, he remembered a lesson from the Academy about these rooms, and how sometimes they can give away the setting of an arena if they are open.
He was surprised to find all of the lights on in the pool room, the blue water disturbed and splashing against the sides. Under the water, a dark figure swam, twisting and turning in the water until finally breaking the surface.
Finnick.
He barely took a breath before zipping back under the water, disappearing into the depth of the large lap pool. Cato turned and walked away before his ally could see him. The last thing he needed was to explain why he was wandering around in the middle of the night.
Either that room was open because the setting is some kind of tropics or water theme, or Finnick was granted special access.
"You have to choose, Katniss."
I was shaking, that was all I knew. Shaking so hard that I was sure I'd fall apart, staring straight ahead, the sickly smooth voice of President Snow in my ear.
"You can't have both."
Yes, I can. I can have both.
My child deserves a father.
My child.
My child.
My hands flew to my stomach, finding it completely flat. Where was the tiny little bump? Where was my child?
A cry broke me out of my thoughts. It was the kind of cry you'd recognize anywhere, like when Prim was little. I'd asked my mother once how she always knew when my sister was crying, no matter how many other sounds they were, when the tiny baby had barely even begun to whimper. I'd been so young, so innocent at the time. I still had both of my parents, and Prim had just been born.
"It's a mother's instinct, Katniss. I know when you need me- and I know when Primrose does." She'd said, stroking my hair, "A mother can recognize her child's cry anywhere."
A mother's instinct.
A mother's instinct.
And then Snow was in front of me, a tiny bundle in his arms. I didn't need to see the fuzzy dark hairs on the child's head to know that was my child.
"No!" I cried, "Get your hands off of him! Don't touch him!"
I wanted to run forward and pry my baby out of Snow's hands. He couldn't have him. His filthy hands could not touch my child. But my feet were stuck in this spot. Rooted into the ground like the massive evergreen trees in the woods, I couldn't take a step forward. All I could do was reach out desperately, my screams becoming unintelligible even to my own ears.
Something fierce came over me, like a puzzle piece shifting into place. It was irrevocable. The need to protect the child, the need to keep it safe, the need to get to him.
"So, you've chosen your child over your husband?" The man sneered.
"Cato?" I asked, not understanding.
And then I remembered.
You have to choose.
You can't have both.
You have to choose.
You have to choose.
You have to choose.
"No, I won't choose. I can't." I shook my head.
"Katniss" A soft voice echoed, one I'd recognize anywhere.
Cato was next to snow, bound to a post, just as he'd been that day in the square. The memories of it flashed in my mind, the desperation I felt as Rye dragged me away, the way his back had looked like shredded meat as he lay on my mother's kitchen island.
"No." I whispered, "Don't do this. Please don't take him away from us."
"So, you have chosen your child." A twisted mutt-like smile graced the man's lips.
"I-"stuttering to find the words, struggling to find logic, all I could do was beg.
Cato.
I loved him, so much it hurt. I loved him so much I was sure I couldn't live without him.
But my child.
Our child.
I could not abandon our child. My instincts wouldn't let me. I was a mother first now, that irrevocable bond growing stronger every time I looked at the bundle.
"It's okay." Cato whispered, "You have to choose him."
"I can't." I cried, falling to my knees, "Don't make me do this. I can't."
"You must, or they both die." The man answered.
"My child deserves a father. I deserve my husband." I countered, "You can't do this to us."
"I can, and I will." He sneered, taking a step in my direction, "What makes you think you deserve this, Miss Everdeen?"
I stared up at him, frozen in shock.
He was right.
"Cat got your tongue, dear?" He smirked, "You're a murderer. You're a liar. You're no more than a pawn in my games."
"You're wrong." I countered, my voice betraying that I didn't even believe what I was saying.
"We both know I am not." He smiled, "You've made your choice."
And then there was a man, with a gun pointed at Cato's head. My husband's eyes met mine. I was dragging myself to my feet, certain I'd find a way through this.
I didn't even have time to scream before the shot rang out, and Cato's body slumped against the beam.
No.
No.
No.
Somehow the force holding me in place lessened, and I scrambled over to him as fast as I could. I was shaking again, the sound of my child's cries piercing the air. It was as if he knew his father had died, knew the reality of what had just happened, the way the wails pierced the air.
It sounded like grief.
Somehow, there was no blood. Not from his head, not from his chest, not from anywhere. He was simply just unconscious, I reasoned.
He can't be dead.
He can't be dead.
I can't do this without him.
But when I touched his pale skin, it was freezing cold. I wedged myself in between his body and the beam, sitting on his knees and lifting his head up. A thousand memories flashed in my mind of his smile, the way his eyes lit up, the way his mouth moved when he spoke. I begged the universe for something, anything.
But there was nothing.
No sign of life, no smile, no blue eyes, nothing.
I pressed my head into his chest, the way I had a thousand times before. I prayed for the sound of his strong heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest under my cheek.
It was my home. My sanctuary. My life.
Silence.
She shot straight up in the bed, her breath coming in heavy pants. She was soaked in sweat, the sheets tangled around her legs. Constricting her, binding her to the bed. Her hands flew to her stomach, feeling the little bump that had grown there.
Not real.
Not real.
Not real.
Her head snapped over to Cato's side of the bed, instinctively looking for the relief that would come when she saw him. She'd feel the tension in her chest subside, and she'd take a few breaths. She'd place her head on his chest and focus on the heartbeat, prove to herself that it was all a dream. Even in sleep, he'd wrap his arms around her. He'd be there, he'd be real, he'd be alive.
The problem was he wasn't there.
Her heart twisted in her chest impossibly tighter, the fear from her dream returning as she scrambled out of the bed. She felt herself shaking as she threw the bathroom door open, her heart sinking to the floor as it revealed only an empty, dark room. She was frantic as she burst out of their room, her feet carrying her to the living room.
"Cato?" She said, her voice quivering as she called out for him. Yet, just like the bathroom, the room was empty. Nothing was out of place, no sign of a struggle, no sign of anything.
She was sprinting to the elevator then, pushing the button over and over again, swearing under her breath. She hadn't realized she was crying until her throat started to close up. The lump in her throat took over, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to speak. She banged on the cold metal doors, choked sounds leaving her throat as she tried to beg for them to open.
Where is he?
Where is he?
Where is he?
Did they take him?
Is he dead?
How did they get in without waking me?
He's probably already dead.
Where is he?
The elevator dinged, the doors spreading open sending Katniss stumbling into the room. She was heaving as she righted herself, hysterical by this point.
She hadn't expected to see Cato standing on the elevator.
He stared at her in shock. The same blue eyes, the same blonde hair, the same clothes he went to sleep in. Real, alive, breathing, standing right in front of her. She wanted to speak, to scream at him and ask where he went, to tell him she loved him, that she needed him, that she couldn't live without him.
But the words died in her throat.
She fell to the ground at his feet, a shaking sobbing mess, gasping for air that would not fill her lungs. He was in front of her then, begging her to breathe, wrapping her in his arms, everywhere, all over her, safe, breathing, real.
"Katniss, come on baby, you need to calm down. You need to breathe." He begged, grasping her face in his hands, "Breathe with me, come on sweetheart."
Still, it felt like the tension in her chest only got worse. Like a broken heart, preventing the air from getting inside her, choking on her own pain as Cato screamed for help.
"Haymitch! Effie!" He screamed, rubbing her back as he did.
"Come on baby, you've got this. Take a deep breath for me." He whispered in my ear as she wheezed. Everything became out of focus, the room blurring, Cato's voice in her ear sounding far away.
"What the fuck is going on?" Haymitch's voice joined the symphony.
"She can't breathe." Cato was starting to show signs of panic, his hands shaking as he rubbed her back.
"What happened?" Haymitch asked.
"I don't know!" She heard her husband scream, "She can't fucking breathe!"
A black haze tore at the edge of her vision as the elevator started to move, everything blurry and muffled. She could hear them arguing, screaming at each other. She felt herself being lifted into Cato's arms.
"Stay with me, baby. I've got you; we're going to get you help." He begged. She could recognize the tone his voice took, the way it shook when he cried.
The burning in her chest only got worse, and somewhere in the background, Haymitch was screaming at the elevator to go faster. He was pounding on the door. Katniss wasn't sure if that was what was making everything shake, or if it was Cato's arms wrapped around her.
"Haymitch." He said, "Her lips are blue."
"Dammit! What a piece of absolute shit this thing is!" Her mentor was screaming. And then the door dinged again, and they were running. Katniss could barely keep her eyes open anymore, weakness spreading through her body as she gasped for air.
"Help! Somebody help!" Haymitch was screaming, and everything started to move too fast. She heard more voices, screaming, and crying. Someone lifted her out of Cato's arms and placed her on a bed. She reached out for him weakly as they did, watching the blurry form of her husband fall to his knees as she was rolled away. Something was shoved on her face, forcing air into her chest, but it did nothing to help the pain.
And then everything went black.
The next thing she remembered; bright lights flashed in her eyes as she woke up. She took a deep breath, reveling in the way it filled her lungs as she exhaled.
"You certainly gave us all a fright, my dear." A soft voice sounded beside her bed.
Effie Trinket sat there, looking less done up than she ever had, with Katniss's hand laced in her own.
"You had an asthma attack, honey. You were unconscious for a while, but they gave you medicine. You're going to be fine." Effie spoke, reaching to brush a stray hair out of Katniss's face.
"Cato?" Katniss asked, her voice scratchy in her throat.
"He's completely fine. Haymitch is keeping him distracted for the moment." Her escort assured, "Why, he pretty much had to drag that boy out of here."
"Distracted?" Katniss questioned, her free hand rubbing at her sore throat as she did so.
"Yes, well- I wasn't sure if he was aware." Effie answered, letting go of her hand to pour a cup of water from a carafe on the side of the bed. The hospital room was the same sterile white expanse she remembered from when she woke up after the games.
"Aware of what?" Katniss asked, taking a sip of the water. The cool liquid soothed her throat, allowing her a sigh of relief.
"The baby, Katniss."
She spit out her water, eyes instinctively scanning the room for listening devices as her heart started pounding in her chest. White hot fear sunk in as her hands flew to her stomach instinctively.
"Shhhhh, dear." Effie soothed, "They can't hear us."
The woman placed a hand on her back, "You need to take some deep breaths with me, Katniss. Come on. Here we go, in."
Katniss obeyed as the woman continued to coach her until she had calmed down. It felt strange in a way, being mothered this way. Katniss couldn't remember the last time she had this feeling.
Effie handed her an oxygen mask, adjusting it on her face with a gentle touch as Katniss continued taking deep breaths. Finally, she pulled out what looked like a compact mirror from a purse sitting next to her. However, when she opened it, a mess of chips and wires was inside.
"Cinna gave me this. It disrupts the signal of any bugs in a large radius. I have to use it sparingly, so as to not raise suspicion, but nobody can hear or see us dear. You're safe." She explained.
Katniss removed the mask from her face, "He knows. Cato knows."
"Oh, good. That makes things easier. " Effie smiled, "Don't worry, a friend of mine works in the lab and he doctored all your tests so there is no record or indication of your pregnancy here."
"How did you know?" Katniss frowned at her escort.
"I had a feeling." Effie gave her a soft smile, "I'm much more perceptive than anyone gives me credit for."
Katniss had a feeling that was the truth.
"Congratulations, by the way." The woman brushed her thumb over Katniss's hand as she spoke.
"Yeah, what a real blessing this is," Katniss answered, sarcastically.
"New life is always something to celebrate, even if the circumstances are not ideal," Effie assured.
"I'm sure that's true here in the Capitol, but in 12 a new baby is just another mouth to feed." Katniss bit out, "I'm about to go into an arena, pregnant. There is nothing to celebrate."
"You're wrong, my dear. Very wrong." Effie frowned, "Let me ask you a question: do you want this baby?"
"I'm about to go into an arena." Katniss answered, "If I somehow survive, my husband will be dead. My child will have no father, and will be reaped the moment it turns 12."
Effie shook her head, "That's not what I asked you. I asked if you want this child, do you want to be a mother?"
Perhaps it was her dream from the night prior, the choice she had made in her dream. Maybe, she had just finally admitted it to herself, but she found herself staring into Effie's eyes and nodding her head yes.
A huge smile broke out across the woman's face. With the lack of makeup or contacts and her hair in a perfect bun with only traces of gold left in it, Katniss realized how beautiful Effie was in that moment.
"Children represent hope, sweet girl." Effie answered, "And hope is the only thing that is stronger than fear. I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to ensure you and this child's safety."
The tears that welled up in Katniss's eyes were not of sadness, but appreciation. Her escort, the woman she had reviled for so long, blamed for calling out Prim's name, had somehow become like family to her.
So much to be thankful for, and so much to lose.