Over Again

Chapter 2

The light from an early sunrise seeped into the white colored curtains. Cato woke up, feeling well rested, and surprised. It was warm under the covers, and the fan was blowing cool air on top of his face and shoulders. He glanced down to the sleeping girl in his arms. Her expression was just as soft as it had been all those years ago when he first saw her in the firelight in the Games. The expression he grew to fell in love with. Not the quick paced and scowl on her face from fighting, although he loved that too, but the soft one that only he got to see.

Clove shifted, her eyes blinking slowly. She looked up at him, a small smile forming. "Morning, babe," she said lazily, kissing him. "What are you, watching me sleep?"

"Something like that."

"God, you sound like a creep," she laughed. She pressed her face back against his chest for a few minutes before rolling out of bed. He soon followed and they brushed their teeth and washed their face before going down. He checked the clock on the oven in the kitchen, reading 7:34am.

"Are we the first ones up?" Clove asked.

"I guess," Cato said. "Although I am surprised that our dumb chef Rye isn't here cooking up a storm for us."

"Well, your dumb chef Rye needs sleep too, you douche." Cato turned around to see Rye saunter in the kitchen wearing an oversized shirt and pajama pants. Cato grinned. "Whoops, there's our sleeping beauty."

Rye rolled his eyes. "One day, I'm going to die and all five of you will starve without me. Dumbasses don't even know how to make the easiest of breakfasts. I mean, who the fuck doesn't know how to make egg danish with pigs in a blanket?"

Clove turned on the coffee maker and grabbed a mug, pointing it accusingly at Rye. "Literally nobody, you food nerd."

Rye shot her a glance and she backtracked immediately. "I mean, we love and appreciate you Rye! Our savior!"

He rolled his eyes once more before going to the fridge and pulling out an assortment of groceries. Cato grinned over his shoulder to Clove.

...

"Well, s-someone's in a good mood today," he huffed, as Clove's arms tangled in his air. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Yeah," she murmured, in his mouth. "Beat another one of those bots again. Level Four, baby. Honestly, they need to make these things harder."

She let go and they flopped on the couch. Cato watched her earnestly as she recapped her afternoon, eyes gleaming and arms making these wild gestures. "I swear, my goal is to get to Level Ten. I hear they're coming out with more levels up to 15, and I want to be the first to make it."

Ah, Clove, he thought. Always so ambitious.

...

It was a few days later when the strongest nightmare he had in the last year replayed in his head.

 

"Don't do this. Please." The hopeless voice of Katniss rang in his ears. "Please."

Cato tried to ignore it, and definitely didn't make eye contact with her. She struggled against the headlock Clove had her in. Katniss was strong, but years of training and skill made Clove stronger. She was ruthless, but Cato could tell that she didn't want to do this any more than he did.

"Take me instead. Please!" she cried.

Once more, he ignored her. He knew what had to be done. There was only one way. The pair from Twelve would have to die if he wanted to make it home with Clove. He had to do this. Grimacing, he lifted his arms up and plunged the dagger into Peeta. His sword lay lost on the ground, as it had slipped off his back when he climbed the Cornucopia. Peeta groaned excruciatingly, trying to move, but it was no use. With Cato sitting on top of him, Peeta body just shook against the hood of the Cornucopia.

She died shortly after. That was when Cato saw the last of Clove's innocence leave her. She made it quick, dropping Katniss to the ground after. When Clove made eye contact with him, he saw how empty her eyes were. She was no longer a kid, and would never get that purity back.

He woke abruptly, his face twisted in pain. His breathing wasn't heavy like after a panic attack, but more like it almost stopped. He felt cold sweat run down his face. It was the worst type of nightmares, the kind that left him with the knowledge that he killed a dozen of the children in the arena. His usual nightmares ended in a panic attack after having glimpses into the past. But this one, it was different. It didn't feel like a memory but more like he was actually there, reliving it all over again. Being forced to kill person after person. This nightmare really struck him and he didn't feel like a scared 17 year old anymore. He felt angry. Angry that he succumbed to the Games, angry that the government found entertainment in this, angry that it changed him.

Throwing the covers off of him, he bolted out the door, making sure not to wake Clove up. It was six years ago. He was 24 now but the memories would never fade.

He didn't even realize he was running barefoot in the streets with his heart pounding until he reached the door of the Academy. He opened it, the lights flickering on. It was empty. Well, that was no surprise. He doubted many people would be here punching bags at three in the morning.

Hanging one up and putting wrist wraps around his hands, he got to work immediately.

The sounds of Katniss's screams and firing cannons filled his mind for the rest of the night.