A/N: I've decided to make chapters a bit shorter to help me speed up my updates. They'll be around 4-6K words each, but I won't compromise if I need to add more. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

Your humble storyteller,

FLUX

-*** 74th Hunger Games. Day 2. Continued ***-

The world around them slowed.

Cato tossed his bag to the ground, bracing Clove's body to keep her from flailing around like a fish out of water. His heart thundered in his chest, stilling the breath in his lungs.

Her frame contorted as she let out a silent scream. Her breaths grew shallow, struggling to inhale and exhale between the painful convulsions that seized her form.

Fear dried Cato's mouth, his fingers trembling as he held Clove.

No, no, no… Fuck. What the fuck does he do? She can't die… He promised her.

He could wrap a wound. Stitch a laceration. Splint a break— but this was something beyond his capacity. It was a cruelty that the Gamemakers could inflict on them.

She was going to die painfully, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Iridescent, charcoal-colored drool leaked from her mouth. The capillaries in her eyes shattered like violet spiderwebs. Her wide eyes looked up at him, brimming with terror and agony.

Peeta shifted nervously beside him as her breath grew ragged.

"Cato! What the fuck is going on!?" Marvel screamed.

Fear painted his hardened demeanor, holding Glimmer as she convulsed on the ground. The blonde had fallen unconscious, her face darkening with blackened veins. A shimmering mucus dripped from her nose, dribbling from the corners of her mouth.

"It's the pieces! Don't touch them! There's something wrong with them."

Footsteps echoed on the tarnished marble as Luna approached the dais. She pursed her lips, shifting her icy stare to the men crumbling on the floor before her. Her cold eyes glinted at the holographic projection.

"We only need a few more pieces," she said in an airy tone after a few seconds, "and then we can see more of the board."

"If you want to play, go right ahead and kill yourself, Luna," he mocked with a glare. "It'll save me the trouble of doing it later."

Clove retched between her convulsions. He forced her on her side, pulling open her mouth to keep her from choking to death on her vomit. Her teeth bit into his knuckles, propping her open between her convulsions and the gagging.

"I've got a better idea," Luna smirked, her blue eyes darkening. She lunged forward, grabbing Peeta by the back of his suit. He struggled against her grasp but found the prongs of her trident against his throat.

Cato's body tensed, his voice booming like thunder. "Luna!"

She dragged Peeta a few feet to the chessboard, latching onto him like a shark biting into its prey. The air grew cold.

"Shut the fuck up! Who died and made you the leader? You had the lowest score of all of us," she mocked, shoving him into the seat. "Pick a piece, Loverboy. Hurry up."

Peeta hesitated, overcome with worry. "I… I don't know how to play—"

His voice staggered from the force of Luna's fist as it connected with his cheekbone.

Peeta recoiled from the blow, feeling the sharp prongs of her trident against his right shoulder. She roughly gripped the nape of his neck, clamping down on the dense muscle with a harsh pressure that made him wince.

A trickle of red slid down his cheek.

"I didn't fucking ask you if you knew how to play."

"But I—"

Her fist connected with his face once more. Peeta's spit tinged red, wiping what dribbled forth from his mouth.

"Grab a piece and move it. If not, your arm is mine." Her words were cold and exact.

Peeta's fearful gaze darted between the board and Cato.

The boy from District 2 remained beside Clove. His chest rose and fell quickly as she vomited on the ground.

The distraught tension behind his blue eyes beckoned his damned inner nature. His stomach curled. The uncertainty curled his lip into a snarl.

"You know. I heard a funny rumor," Luna mocked coldly, "that you and your boyfriend over here were hooking up. It's no wonder I can see fire in his eyes."

Peeta's gaze rested on Cato. The muscles of his face tensed, gritting his teeth. He shifted Clove upright as she profusely emptied the contents of her stomach— a tar-like mass of bile and remnants of her breakfast. The convulsions had finally stopped.

"You don't have to worry about that," he said, raising his hand fearfully to move a piece. "I'm just cannon fodder."

A force lurched him back, his fingers missing the piece they attempted to grab. The sound of scraping metal and harsh breathing filled the area. Peeta scrambled from the bench, turning to find a hulking muscle mass behind him.

Cato's face turned crimson, veins pulsating with pent-up fury as he clenched his fist around Luna's throat, his knuckles white with the intensity of his rage. His pearly whites dug viciously into the flesh of his lower lip.

A trickle of blood dribbled onto the ruined mosaic, stemming from the trident that pierced through his left forearm.

He let out a staggered scream, kicking Luna back as she ripped the trident from his flesh. Pain violated his left arm as a steady warmth fell across his skin. The air left her frame as she stumbled backward, regaining her composure momentarily as Cato drew the great sword sheathed on his back.

"All this for some cannon fodder!?" she laughed, a trembling breath filling her lungs.

Cato could partially hear Cornelia and his father screaming at him. He should've just let Luna force Peeta to play. They might've revealed the rest of the tributes and ended the games quickly, but as much as he tried to be ruthless— a monster, a winner, a Career.

It was a lie.

He used to believe lies justified the actions of his past, atoning for his sins. That the ends somehow always justified the means.

But they never did. For eight years, he had sunshine and dandelions and apologized to no one. Even after it nearly destroyed him.

All but the last inch.

He held onto that noble sentiment within that inch— a heroic ideal that could be his demise.

Blood trickled down his arm, readying his blade. "No, I just refuse to stoop to your level."

Anger flashed across her eyes, lunging forth with her trident. His blade met the prongs of her trident, batting it away with a decisive blow. She recoiled, swiping the blades of her trident wildly. Clashes rang through the temple as he met her strikes.

Adrenaline pulsed within every beat of his raging heart. The sound of steel against steel reverberated through the hall, sending sparks flying in all directions.

With each swing, he charged forward, carving his great sword through the air. Luna kept him at bay with deft thrusts and parries. Her footfalls staggered against his blows. He pressed the advantage, drawing his blade across her hip, momentarily stunning her.

Luna gritted her teeth, fighting to maintain her composure. Her fingers pressed against the crimson flesh as the emotions of their eyes met. She stumbled backward as Cato lunged forward.

Cato's blade met a desperate lunge as Reef intervened. He deflected his thrust, countering with a quick sidestep. He dragged his blade across Reef's abdomen, kicking him sharply in the side, which sent him tumbling against the wall.

"Stay out of this!"

Luna launched herself back into the fray, slicing into his shoulder. He let out a muffled scream, dodging her thrust. Anger ignited in his chest, spurring his body to move faster.

He sidestepped her next attack, dodging the slash that dove for his throat. His muscles bulged, driving her backward with a powerful strike.

She crumbled to the ground, her trident clattering just beyond the doorway. Her azure eyes grew wide as Cato gripped her throat, lifting her into the air to deliver the final blow.

"Let her go!"

Reef stood at the door, holding Peeta in a chokehold. He pressed a dagger firmly against his squirming throat, his eyes brimming with defiance.

A stalemate hung heavily in the air as Luna faced him, struggling against the grip he had on her throat. Peeta pursed his lips, his gaze captivated with fear.

Cato took a deep breath, feeling the fatigue of his wounds weighing on his body. He kept his eyes sharp, trying to anticipate Reef's next move.

Desperation lingered on his gaze, pulling his arm tighter around Peeta's neck. "You said you wouldn't lower yourself to Luna's standard, but will you lower yourself to mine?"

Cato's grip tightened around her throat. "What's your offer?

"A life for a life. You let Luna go. I'll let Peeta go."

Luna's eyes glinted with defiance, clenching her jaw as she squirmed beneath his grip.

"And you'll both leave."

Reef nodded. "We'll take our bags and—"

"What the fuck are you doing, Reef!?" Luna shouted, kicking her legs aimlessly. She stopped when Cato squeezed her windpipe tighter.

"I'm saving your fucking ass! Just shut up already!"

Cato pressed his sword against Luna's throat, stepping closer. "If you try anything, I'll kill you. Now, move to the wall slowly, bend over, and grab both bags."

She glared at him but complied, her eyes burning with defiance as she collected both bags from the wall. They stopped just before the entrance where Reef held Peeta.

Reef slowly released Peeta, letting him walk forward. Once the blonde was behind Cato, he lowered his blade, releasing Luna from his grasp.

"The next time I see both of you, it'll be the last."

Reef nodded, maintaining his guard as he and Luna left the temple. Luna remained silent, picking up her trident with a final look of defiance before Reef pulled her away.

Cato watched them from the doorway, their figures shrinking as they made their way eastward along the sandy beach until the dense foliage of the forest swallowed them from sight.

Re-entering the temple, he was overwhelmed by exhaustion—fatigue from the battle and the adrenaline crash. Warmth trickled down his fingers as he sheathed his great sword. The room spun, his knees weakening as he met Athena's unyielding gaze.

The goddess's stare offered no reprieve as he collapsed onto the cold, hard floor.

A dull light filled the temple as Cato awoke in a sleeping bag.

Night had fallen. The sconces on the temple's walls illuminated the tattered cerulean banners that swayed gently against the tarnished stone.

Sitting up from the backpack tucked under his head, Cato felt a heavy fatigue settle in his bones. His shoulder and arm ached, and a thick bandage was wrapped around his forearm. He could feel a pad of gauze pressed against his shoulder blade. A tingling numbness radiated down his wrist and across his fingers.

"Try not to move too much, or you'll pass out again."

Peeta sat atop the stone bench beside the chessboard dais. His gaze returned to the doorway, and he shifted the dagger beside him. Cato's fingers itched for the great sword lying next to him.

"What happened?"

"You passed out," Peeta replied calmly, retrieving the canteen from beside him. He unscrewed it and handed it to Cato. Cato eyed the blonde warily before cautiously accepting it. "I wrapped your wounds. The one on your forearm goes all the way through. I don't think Luna hit anything major, but you'll need stitches."

Cato drank thirstily, desperate to relieve his parched throat.

His eyes shifted to Glimmer and Clove, resting atop their sleeping bags. From the flickering light, he saw the black lines that continued to distend across their faces. Damp rags sat on their foreheads, and their chests slowly rose and fell.

"How are those two?"

"The shaking stopped during the fight. After we took care of your wounds, we got them settled in. They've been asleep since."

"We?"

Peeta nodded. "Marvel and I. He's on watch right now."

Cato scoffed, shaking his head as he pulled himself back onto the tile. "Huh, I thought he would be the first to kill us."

"Don't worry, he still has use for you."

Cato looked at Peeta curiously. His humor was taunting. "Oh, Loverboy's got jokes now?"

Peeta shrugged his shoulders with a playful eye, sitting back at the dais.

Cato's stomach grumbled as he retrieved two dried fish flanks from his bag and his medical kit. He chewed one, tossing the other to Peeta. The pair ate silently, letting the crackling of the wood sconces fill the space between them.

After finishing his flank, Cato retrieved some supplies from the medical kit. He was thankful to find a few surgical suture packs beneath the rolls of gauze and alcohol pads. He moved from his bed, gingerly pulling at the gauze around his forearm. He winced, removing the remaining fragment that stuck to his wound.

"How bad is it?" Peeta asked, his lips quirking with concern.

"The prong of Luna's trident went straight through the outer portion of my left forearm. It left a divot the size of a quarter that penetrated the muscle. At least it's not broken."

However, the wound was through and through, barely held together by a blood clot. He would have to stitch it up or risk bleeding out in his sleep.

Cato cursed silently, rubbing the area of his wound with alcohol wipes until tears stung his eyes. He ripped open the aluminum packaging, taking the semi-circular needle between his fingers. He began stitching the wound closed on the inner part of his forearm.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." he muttered, dragging the needle and silken material through the thin skin of his inner forearm.

The diagonal pattern closed his grizzly skin together.

He tied off the final knot with a sigh. "God fucking dammit,"

A cold sweat broke across Cato's body as he awkwardly turned his shoulder inward to start stitching the exit wound on the back of his forearm. The angle of the tear made it difficult for him to get beneath the skin. Peeta knelt beside him, wiping his fingers with alcohol wipes.

Cato gave him a wary look. "What're you doing?"

"I'm going to help you."

His expression was calm and calculating. "You have no idea what you're doing."

"I just watched you do it. Plus, I'm a quick learner."

"Fuck off, Loverboy, I don't need anything from you." he snapped. "I'm more than capable of taking care of myself."

Peeta's face tensed. His voice was caustic. "Are you always this stubborn when someone tries to help you?"

"I am when the person trying to help me is the reason I got—"

"I didn't ask you to save me!" Peeta interrupted begrudgingly.

A flush of annoyance painted his cheeks. He snatched the needle from Cato's fingers, quickly digging the tip through the side of the wound, earning a glare of irritation and pain from the Career.

"Mother fuck—"

"Stay still."

He groaned, biting his lip as Peeta forced the needle through his flesh.

The pain was indescribable. The muscle of his outer forearm was denser, which meant Peeta had to push harder to pass the needle through his tissue. A sharp sensation radiated from his arm as Peeta went through the adjacent site, pulling the thread through the newfound opening.

Tears stung Cato's eyes as black spots danced before his vision. A cold sweat broke across his skin.

"You okay?" Peeta asked, his mouth twisting with concern.

"I think I should probably lie down while you do this," Cato replied, his breath shaking as he laid back on his sleeping bag. He clamped his mouth shut, hiccupping several times as he tried to breathe evenly.

"I think I'm going into shock," he said, swallowing hard. His voice sounded oddly small and childlike.

He wanted to scream and cry, but he refused to allow himself to. He was so angry he was here. He wished he'd gone anywhere else. He grumpily shifted his arm across his chest, allowing Peeta better access to the area.

"Now, pull it through until you have about an inch left. Tie it across the wound, making three knots. Don't tie it too tight, or you'll kill the tissue in my arm."

Peeta nodded, nervously pulling the thread through the incision. The thread dragged through his skin, rippling like pins and needles across his flesh.

"Can you be any fucking slower?" he hissed through his teeth.

"If I pull too fast, it might break. Then I'll have to start over." Peeta breathed, pulling the first line across the wound. He secured the first knot and cut off the excess with the knife.

Cato took a breath, mentally preparing himself for the continued onslaught. "Okay… now, you'll insert one inch diagonal to your knot. You'll insert it again, run it across, and exit from underneath. You got that?"

Peeta gave him a blank stare with a slight nod, causing him to groan internally.

"Just… get it over with—"

Peeta swallowed hard, pressing the sharp metal into his skin. Cato's arm spasmed from the sensation.

"Fucking hell!"

"You need to stay still!" Peeta snapped, his blonde locks tousled with frustration. He paused, taking a breath. "If you talk to me, this might go faster."

"How's that supposed to help me?"

"It'll distract you."

He sighed, feeling unsure of his options. "Sure, I guess it won't kill me…"

"How do you know so much about this kind of stuff?" Peeta asked, his gaze softening.

"Cornelia taught me when I was younger— and I had classes at Stone Bridge."

After a few seconds of pulling, the second stitch was done.

"Why did you save me?"

"I didn't. I just made a deal."

"For my life?"

"Yes."

"You make it sound like it was easy."

Cato's eyes crept open at his condescending tone. "Why? Would you rather be dead?"

"I—I... that's not what I—" Peeta flushed, guiding the needle through the third stitch.

"Most people would be grateful to be alive."

Peeta's deft fingers tied off the knot, ushering in relief.

Cato flinched, feeling Peeta's fingers coat some ointment onto the wound before wrapping it in fresh gauze. Silence filled the space between them as Peeta wrapped his arm, fastening it with clips.

"Thank you for saving me—again. I'm sorry I've become a burden."

"You say sorry a lot, Loverboy," Cato quipped, rolling over as he felt the waves of exhaustion. His eyes fluttered closed as the room started spinning again. "It's almost like you feel guilty about something."

"I feel guilty about many things."

"You should probably do something about that bleeding heart of yours," Cato replied flatly, exhaustion weighing down his consciousness. "Or it'll weigh you down, and you'll start drowning."

"I already am."

-*** 74th Hunger Games. Day 3 ***-

The soft caw of seagulls stirred Cato from his sleep. He sat up slowly, finding the sconces extinguished as the morning light filled the chamber. His wrist and fingers tingled as he slipped on his suit and donned his great sword.

Clove and Glimmer were still resting against the far wall, the black veins on their faces receding significantly.

His footfalls echoed across the tarnished mosaic as he made his way out into the morning sun. Marvel sat beneath the portico, looking out at the water with his spear resting beside him. A bright smile tugged at his lips as Cato joined him.

"Ah, look who's alive."

Heavy bags tugged under the brunette's eyes, showing hours of fatigue. A rough stubble appeared on his cheeks.

Cato rolled his eyes. "How long have I been out?"

"Just the evening," Marvel replied woodenly. "Peeta said you passed out after stitching your wound."

Goosebumps ran up Cato's calves, stemming from the memory of his arm being stitched back together. Marvel laughed at his dismay, trailing off with a sigh. "The guy's resourceful. I don't blame you for being smitten."

Marvel gestured his finger toward the water.

Peeta had stripped off half his wet suit, submerging himself in the seafoam-colored waters. His blonde locks painted his face messily. Droplets of water dripped down his taut chest and toned abdomen. A cascade of relief filled his youthful face.

Marvel's eyes trailed Cato's face, looking for any glint of infatuation he could use for his amusement.

"I don't know what you're insinuating," Cato said coldly. Marvel's lips tugged.

"Oh, c'mon… you're no fun," his tone clipped. "For what it's worth, he helped me keep you and the girls alive. I figured he would've run at the first chance he got."

Cato quirked an eyebrow as he met Marvel's stare. "Why didn't he?"

"He said he owed it to you."

Cato chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about the contrast between them.

He needed to act more cautiously.

After nearly dying from a seizure and bleeding out, he was abruptly confronted with the fact that, on a primal level, he was determined not to die. He hadn't realized how overwhelming the drive was.

Rationally, he always considered dying something he could face.

But the instant Luna's trident pierced his flesh, the drive to fight his way free and kill anything that got in his way swallowed his mind. He hadn't realized how his survival instincts would supersede everything.

When it came down to them, Peeta would die.

He could kill him so easily. Another corpse for his body count, bleeding together with the rest of the dead somewhere in his memory. He smiled to himself bitterly.

Cato's valor was an illustration of his achievement, wrought with blood and brimming with cold despair.

Peeta's virtue represented his being, washed with candor and radiating morality.

Their relationship—whatever it was felt like a cruel form of irony. It was as though they were the reverse of each other, like the sun and the moon.

They always caught glimpses of one another but were never destined to live side by side.

A soft wind kissed his knuckles, turning to Marvel. "Go get some rest. I'll take the next watch."

Marvel nodded without argument, taking the opportunity to rest after a long shift.

Peeta walked up from the sand, zipping up his suit as his feet reached the temple's steps. His hand brushed back his damp locks as their eyes met.

"How's your arm?" he asked dryly.

Cato's lips flattened. "It's fine. My fingers are a bit numb, but they'll heal."

The blonde sat against the wall beside him, staring at the waves. "Clove and Glimmer's fevers broke overnight. Marvel and I managed to get them to drink some water and chew some fish."

"How'd that go?"

"Clove bit me. Hard."

Cato's lips tugged. "Serves you right for trying to feed her."

"I thought I was being helpful," Peeta scoffed, a lightness filling his voice. "I didn't figure she'd bite me."

"Consider your debt paid, then."

Peeta gave him a questioning eye as he retrieved the dagger from his belt. He tossed it to him haphazardly.

"Wh—"

"You're not our prisoner," he said woodenly. "You're free to go. I'll tell them I fell asleep, and you ran away."

Peeta stared at him, gripping the dagger between his fingers. His gaze glinted at the Career, then flicked to the backpack on the steps.

Cato's expression was guarded. "Go."

Peeta looked at him in confusion, slinging the sack over his shoulder. He was such a pile of contradictions.

"You— you could come with me."

Cato stared at him for several seconds before lowering his eyes. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something else but swallowed the words. He was still for a moment before he gave a low sigh.

"I can't."

The humid air hung around them, the sound of waves upon the sand filling the space between them. Peeta studied his eyes but didn't move again until he knelt beside him, ghosting his lips against Cato's briefly like the wings of a butterfly.

"Don't die, Cato."