Disclaimer: No part of The Hunger Games is mine.

AN: Sorry for the late update! I've had a bit of writer's block lately. A bit of language in this chap, as a warning. And just one naughty line. Not descriptive or anything, though.

"Gloss, I just don't know how to describe it…He's just different now." He snorts, raising an eyebrow. "You expected him to be the same? Eno, he's suffered the death of her!" She nods, putting a finger on his lips. "But don't you say it. Don't say her name. He'll go cry like a wounded animal." He nods once. She calls, "Cato! Time for breakfast!" They hear a rustling of sheets and he comes to greet them, eyes bloodshot and hair mussed. "Hey Gloss, Baria," he murmurs. A sympathetic look crosses her features and she whispers, "Nightmares, Cato?" He nods once. "Why would it be anything else?" She sighs, sliding him a plate of pancakes and seats herself at the table, Gloss following her close behind.

"It'll get better, I promise." Cato looks up, rage kindled in his eyes. "How the fuck do you even say that?" She grabs his arm, digging her nails into his wrist sharply. "Cato, calm down. But it will get better, Gloss is right." She is the only one who has ever been able to calm him down, after Clove's death. His muscles tighten then relax, tensing again as she speaks. "You're gonna get over her. You're gonna go home to Two and get settled down with a nice girl and have kids. You're gonna get over her." She repeats, biting her lip before saying her name. "Clove-" She pauses, looking at his reaction, "would want you to move on." He runs off, ripping his wrist out of her grasp. "How dare you say her name like it means nothing. Like she's not dead."

Both mentors get up, chasing after the blonde. "You'll get over her, Cato!" Enobaria calls, leaning her head against the door. "Do you know what Clove would do, if the situation was reversed? If you were dead, not her?" The sounds of crashing glass fill her ears. "She'd go home and get over it. She'd go back to Two and drink all the liquor you two got when you announced you were engaged." The sounds stop. He'd forgotten about their engagement, apparently. "She'd throw knives with a vengeance, not mope like your sorry ass." She spits, throwing her fist against the door with a thud. Then, he emerges, eyes cold. She knows he's about to say something that will sting like a whiplash, so she braces herself. "You know what I wish she'd do? Kill your sorry ass, and make it fucking gorgeous. With your blood and body parts cracked like stained glass windows."

He slams the door again, wishing he was home so he could just go in the alleys, find a drunk asshole and strangle him. Really, from his district, that's the only thing he misses. And her, he thinks, screaming his throat raw as her name pops back into his mind. Clove. Clove. Clove. Clove. Clove. Clove. He thinks, name rattling around in his skull. She always knew just how to get under his skin, didn't she? He growls, throwing a vase across the room. It shatters. This feels all too familiar, just like the night when they got their training scores and Katniss beat them. He remembers, with a smirk, that he fucked her senseless after that. After all, it's the Two way. If you're angry, you take it out on someone or something else. Or yourself. He walks over to his drawer, pulling out her knife. And slowly, one by one, he re-draws the scars she left on him. It hurts like hell, but in a deliciously good way she would approve of.

AN: Finished! I'd say that was a pretty good chapter. Please don't forget to leave a review, and PM me if you have any questions.