Back at the apartment, which along the way Haymitch had learned was constructed for the new Quell, Cato immediately stomped into his room. When Enobaria asked where he thought he was going, he exited his space (magically put all back together in such a short time), wearing athletic shorts and a shirt.

"I'm going to go hit things!"

The door slammed behind him.

"A bit touchy, noted," Haymitch said.

"What are you all doing?" Katniss shuffled over to their table, where notes were scattered across it.

"Trying to make this believable," Enobaria replied shortly, "You're not the only ones under threat of horrors too."

Katniss snapped her head around to look at Effie, eyes wide with fear.

"Oh, darling," Effie sighed, going and hugging Katniss, "I won't tell a soul."

"She's fine, otherwise Snow would have kicked her off the team and replaced her with someone else," Haymitch waved a dismissive hand, "Besides, having a Capitol escort can only help." He turned his focus back to the notes, "Now, I think that there should be an outing where they go to something funny. They're both such serious people, show the folks something with their guard down."

"Absolutely not," Enobaria argued, "They need to remain aloof, to keep the mystery."

Katniss waited, but no one engaged her or asked her opinions. So she went into her room, but couldn't focus. Her fingers itched and she suddenly understood Cato's urge to throw things.

Instead, she too changed into her workout gear. Her hair had been let down, falling in waves, for this first lunch today. It made her look innocent and sweet.

Katniss furiously knotted it in a single braid, as she was so used to it.

The training room was large, ready for tributes of all ages to come to it. Katniss felt a pang in her stomach as she went to the weapons, staring up at the tall wall. She stood on her toes to grab the bow, taking it from the shadowed outline and the hook.

Cato was in a corner, a sword in his hand. He was lethal with it, swinging it around with such force that it sent a shiver up her spine. He would have been horrifying to go against in the games, and it was clear he'd made a practice to get better at it since.

Katniss ignored him, going to the simulation for arrow shooting. She wished it could be deer or pheasant she was aiming for, but of course, it was prepared for the Quell, so all the figures were people.

She shoved back down the bile in her throat.

When the first arrow flew from her fingers, the world faded away.

By the end of it, she was heaving and sweating, fingers starting to callous from gripping the handle as tightly as she had been. It had been too long since she'd done this, and her fingers had grown soft in the time in between. Pathetic.

She spun around to restart it and saw Cato standing behind the glass, arms crossed, watching her.

"I don't come and creep on you while you train," Katniss snapped.

"You know…" Cato blinked, "You're quite singular with a bow and arrow. Best the games ever saw."

Katniss made a sound in the back of her throat, "Oh, really? I thought I was whatever slur you couldn't decide, a nothing compared to the magnificent Clove."

Cato breathed out through his nose. Though in terms of their timeline that comment had happened not too long ago, it seemed like eons. Like literal oceans standing and separating that moment and now, with what had happened since.

"Can you blame me for hating you?" Cato's lip twitched, "It wasn't just that my friend didn't win, it's that you killed her."

Yes, the dogs had torn her to shreds, but Katniss had pushed her off. She hadn't thought about it, she'd just done it. She'd been trying to make sure Peeta lived, not specifically that Clove died.

But it didn't matter, did it?

"And do you still hate me?" Katniss asked bitterly, "Because if you do, this will be a very long marriage. Snow will ensure we're alive our full time to see it through, too."

Cato couldn't answer, as though caught between two sides.

Katniss set her bow down, sitting on the practice mats. Cato's sword, still in his hand. He carefully set it next to the bow, easing into the spot next to her.

"You're not wearing your ring."

Katniss fished it from her pocket, "Couldn't shoot right with it on."

Cato plucked it delicately from her hand, "We'll have to figure out a solution to that."

He opened his palm for her to take it back, but she just stared at it, giving a quiet laugh in the back of her throat, "Engaged. Fuck. We hardly know each other," She shook her head, "We have to pretend like we're so madly in love that we jumped the gun and I don't know anything about you. Just what you show to the public. I haven't even…kissed you!" She was almost delirious with laughter, fueled by how deeply unfunny all this was that it tipped the scales to be absolutely hilarious.

She took the ring off his hand, mid-giggles, and slipped it back onto her finger. Somehow, Snow would know if she didn't wear it, and she better get into the habit of it.

As she was turning, to apologize for her morbid humor, Cato's palm cupped her cheek as he leaned in, silencing whatever she was about to say with a kiss.

Katniss sat, stunned, but didn't push him away. He pulled back an inch, his lips salty from the sweat. When Katniss didn't punch him in the nose, he dove back in, more ferociously, and something about this didn't feel like a pity kiss or a chore.

Katniss grasped his arm, not to pull it away, but to stabilize herself.

The kisses with Peeta had been sweet, but she'd always been acutely aware of someone else watching. The kiss with Gale had been so sudden, so wrong that she couldn't enjoy that either. But this one was deeper and warmer, in a way that was altogether different than how she thought she may have felt for Peeta.

When Cato pulled away, Katniss leaned in, the absence of his lips replaced by the chill of the training room.

"There aren't any cameras here, but A+ for effort," Katniss said, unable to keep herself from saying something dumb. Luckily, Cato didn't take offense but instead quirked a smile.

"That one was for me."

She blinked at him, confused, "You…" She trailed off, unable to articulate, "I thought you…"

"Hated you?" He guessed, leaning back on the training mat, balancing on his forearms. He peered up at her, betraying nothing either way.

"Yeah."

"Well," He gave a dry laugh, "I'm far enough down this river to admit that part of it was that I'm attracted to you. That, mixed with how I felt about Clove was…enough."

Katniss swallowed, "Did you two…did you…"

"It was different than you and Peeta," Cato pressed his lips together, thinking, "I don't know. We were best friends. She shouldn't have gone in so early, but she saw me going and thought she could do it too before she was ready. I encouraged her. I wish I hadn't. If she went in two years, when she was eighteen, she might still be alive. The worst thing is that I'll never know what we could have been."

Katniss felt a sob rise in her throat, "I know exactly what you mean."

Without the pressure of the games, would she and Peeta have become more? Could they have? Or maybe they wouldn't have worked, but time never let them find it out.

"So you think I'm…" Katniss swallowed, "I'm not really." She knew Seam girls were the least desirable of the District 12 children. She'd been told that all her life, "It's just Cinna and the stylists working their magic."

"I wouldn't kiss someone ugly," Cato said bluntly, and something about his matter-of-factness had her blushing, "Nor would I have let myself be romantically attached to someone I truly, 100% despised. Yes, it was a gambit for my own comfort - let's not talk about how that spectacularly backfired-,"

"Oh, spectacularly backfired?" Katniss teased, "Tell me how you really feel about being engaged to me."

Cato shoved her shoulder, "-But you had to be someone I'd want to sleep with for anyone to believe it. So take that how you will, but self-deprecation doesn't look good on anyone," He laid back completely on the mat, closing his eyes, "You're a Victor. Start enjoying it. You're allowed to be arrogant."

"Yes, that seems to be a common trait."

"It's a reaction, not a requirement. A bunch of kids suddenly get wealth, power, and popularity beyond their wildest dreams? I don't know how it doesn't tempt you."

Katniss twisted the ring around her finger, "I guess I'm just broken like that. I don't want any of it."

Cato opened an eye, "Smart girl," He hummed, "It's all fool's gold anyway. Sell your soul to the devil and all."

Katniss stood, offering a hand.

"Going back?" He asked.

"No," She shook her head, "I think I still need to hit a few more things."

Cato grinned, "Excellent. On this point, we understand each other perfectly."

XXX

The rest of the week went by in a whirlwind. Each day was a variation on the same song; get up, shove food down your throat, let the stylists take over, and then spend the day out and about in the capitol with Cato. Make sure you're pictured on dates with Cato. Be surprised by paparazzi while you're planning your wedding with Cato. Hold hands and look lovingly into each other's eyes. Laugh and giggle and answer all their questions perfectly. And then, each night, return to the apartment and either lock yourself in your room or go down to the training rooms and exercise until you're so exhausted that you don't have time to even think about anything.

It's similar to the Victory Tour, but different, because Katniss is acutely aware of Cato in every equation she's doing. In some ways, at least she's not doing this alone. In other ways, being responsible for someone else's life instead of just yours is exhausting.

They don't get much time to get to know each other, surprisingly. All their dates are very carefully curated, leaving nothing to chance. They've learned how to play off each other, such as, how to act like they're inseparable. It's not awkward, not as it was in the beginning.

Perhaps that counts, Katniss wonders.

The interviews don't tell Katniss much more about him than she already knew. It's a lot of repeats of the same questions asked in mildly different ways, but at the end of the day, everyone just wants to know the same things.

At least it's easy, a few days in, to shut her brain off and let the repetition coast her through each moment.

She can't even fully enjoy what she and Cato are doing in the Capitol, because she's so nervously checking herself and her answers and her posture and her hair and making sure she's not biting on her nail and, and, and…

It never ends.

They've gone to see a movie and an opera. They've walked around beautiful ponds and through picturesque trails. They've gone to an art gallery with some pre-Dark Days paintings, some from the world before. They've gone to every bridal store in the city, all specializing in something different and something totally over the top. If Katniss had her way, she'd do it quietly.

But if she had it her way, it probably wouldn't be with Cato.

Cato wants a bit of a production, but without saying it, Katniss knows that even he's overwhelmed by the largeness of this. Maybe he does want 200 guests, but he doesn't want 500. Perhaps he likes the idea of a three-course meal, but Capitol chefs informing the pair that a usual capitol wedding is at least 8 makes him a bit green.

Other than that, they've done little interviews with radio stations and smaller TV stations all week, leading up to the big one with Ceaser Flickerman on their last night.

As it barrels towards her, Katniss is almost shocked that time has come and passed so quickly. One moment she's staring into her coffee cup, thinking about how tomorrow she'll be in District 2 and she's not sure if that's better or worse, and the next she's blinking into the bright lights of the stage.

She was here two other times before, all so different. All basically talking about the same things, in different ways.

Love.

But Peeta was the topic for the previous times, and like grief always does, it crashes like a wave. She had barely thought of him, but it's hard not to.

Especially when Ceaser is unrelenting in his question.

"Now, I am thrilled about this match just as the next, but you know I have to ask- doesn't this seem a bit quick? It wasn't so long ago that you and the late tribute Peeta were nearly inseparable."

Behind them, the clips of Katniss' games flash on the screen, particularly the way she kissed him in the cave.

She flinches.

That's a low fucking blow.

Of everything, what she's most upset about, is that it's a reminder that all her kisses with Peeta were for the camera.

None for just her or just him, in the way that Cato had kissed her.

She thinks that if she hadn't been so dumb, it could have meant something.

Cato moves in, as though shielding Katniss from the screen.

"That's incredibly rude, Ceaser."

He's been so charming the entire time. Between the two, he has the most charisma, and Katniss has been letting him take the lead. But his statement is so shocking, so out of character, that Ceaser takes a moment before his smile flickers and his eyes blink fast in confusion.

"What?"

"What a horrible question," Cato says, and it takes Katniss a moment to realize that Cato is protecting her. He doesn't need to, or have any reason. She's…warmed by the gesture. "If Peeta were still alive, no, perhaps we wouldn't have met. But life can't remain with the dead." As he speaks, he swallows, and Katniss knows he's thinking of Clove, "And I like to think…maybe…both Peeta and Clove pushed us towards each other. That maybe they'd both be happy we're happy. Neither were petty, not like that."

Katniss should be furious that Cato is making assumptions about Peeta. He might be in heaven right now, yelling at Katniss about all this.

But he might know it's for show, just like it was with him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to press any buttons if it's a sore subject."

"Of course, it's a sore subject," Cato leans back, swinging an arm over Katniss' chair, over her shoulders, "If you're asking if we've so callously forgotten our loved ones, of course not."

"Do you feel the same, Katniss?" Caesar asked, as though Cato was forcing this opinion on her.

"I miss Peeta every day," Katniss said, her voice breaking. It was the most truthful she'd been in a long time, "But I know that life would be so much lonelier without someone. I think…until you've won the Hunger Games, you can't really understand what it's like on the other side."

Caesar raised his hands in an 'I surrender' motion, "I didn't mean to add undue stress. I suppose it's been plenty of time," He amends, smiling through his teeth.

"The 74th games ended nearly a year ago," Katniss says quickly, "We met not long after."

And she only knew Peeta in the way he wanted her to know him for a few short weeks. By all means, her relationship with Cato should be more solidified.

"And when you know…" Cato slipped his hand into Katniss'. It was warm. It was also the first time that it didn't feel like it was totally for the cameras, "You just know. I'm so lucky to have snagged someone as magnificent as her."

Caesar keeps the rest of the questions simple, as he's already been chastised by Cato once. He doesn't want to go there again. Katniss knows there are other questions he'd dying to ask, but keeps his mouth quiet.

Cato's fingers remain interlaced with hers for the rest of the interview.

XXX

The car ride home is quiet.

"Thanks."

Cato looks up, lifting his head from where he had it pressed against the glass, watching the city whizz past him.

"Hmm?"

"For the question about Peeta."

"It was really in poor taste," Cato scrunched his nose up, "Even if you did profess your undying love to him and then six months later you were with me, who cares? It's as you said…unless you went through what we did, everyone else can shut the fuck up."

"I guess we both have that."

Cato exhales, "Yeah. I guess I understand why so many Victors end up alone," He mused, "It's tough to live with our kind."

Maybe Katniss saw a chip in his armor, maybe she was feeling vulnerable herself, but her next words were a quiet whisper, "I get really bad nightmares."

Cato blinked at her, at the very human admission. She realized belatedly he could laugh or make fun of her, and part of her expected that. Instead, he inclined his head.

"Me too."

She screwed her eyes shut. She still saw Marvel and Clove and Glimmer. She saw Rue, dead in the meadow. Peeta, shredded by mutts. Foxface, lips stained blue.

"Does it ever get better?" She asked. If Cato was still struggling in the same ways almost two years later…well, she had hoped it was just temporary.

"Yes and no," Cato replied honestly, "I have them less frequently, but the nights I do are really bad."

It was only then that Katniss realized how open they were being with each other. She'd offered up a piece of herself and he'd responded in kind. And this was something dark and deep and ugly, but they were being genuine.

"Do you see those you killed?"

Cato had a high death toll in the games, starting at the Cornucopia and until the end. He'd been an aggressor, seeking kids out. He was exactly what every career should aspire to be, and clearly, it had worked in his favor.

"Yes." He shifted so he was facing toward Katniss more than away, "I don't regret it, because I'd be dead otherwise. But at the same time, on some nights, I wake up with their screaming in my head. I haven't told any other Victors. I'm worried they'll think I'm weak."

Her eyebrows raised, "For feeling bad about killing kids?"

Cato nodded seriously.

"That's terrible!" At least Haymitch never understated the horror of the game.

Cato shrugged, unable to find a way to excuse himself of the guilt or make her understand right this moment.

But, it felt like progress.

Katniss thinks if they keep having these little moments, she can live with this.