You can't catch me now. (Cato)

*the quell begins*

The next morning you were exhausted. Waking up late meant less time to eat, to try and calm your rising nerves.

In the little time you had, you spent at the dinning table sat opposite Finnick, Foie at your side eyeing you cautiously.

As you picked through your food, the plate stacked high, only then did Foie speak up.

"How are you both feeling about today?" She asked, attempting a calm facade and yet, failing miserably.

"Like shit." Finnick stated simply, leaning across the table stabbing a piece of bacon.

"We're fighting for our lives, again." He spat out, leaning over, dumping the bacon onto his plate.

You only furrow your brows, a large sigh leaving your lips. You could feel your nerves bubbling up, threatening to leave your stomach and out through your mouth.

You wanted to see Katniss, Cato and Peeta before the games begin. Just once. You felt nervous not seeing them yet. Finnick seemed the same way as he loudly munched on his food.

You felt like you could cry as you took another bite of your food unwillingly. Was your mother proud? Was Annie? Were they still really watching?

"You'll both be fine. You both have many sponsors i am sure-"

"But not one hundred percent, right?" You say gloomily, letting out a heavy sigh as you chew your food.

Foie only offers you a pitiful look.

Of course she's not sure. It was weird seeing the change. Normally you could rely on Foie being a confident, put together figure in the Capitol.

But now? Now everyone was beginning to look vulnerable.

You wondered how Cato felt in the moment, how Katniss and Peeta were feeling. Were they worried? Did they feel sick?

A loud knock on the door however silenced any further thoughts, as four peacekeepers strode in.

It was time.

———————————————————————

The plane ride must of been your least favourite. It was worse than the first time. You were with Foie, and only Foie.

There were no other tributes. Not a single one arriving with you. You kept your hands enclosed on themselves in your lap, curled into tight balls.

"Arm." A strong voice echoed out. A hand stretched to take your forearm. A large needle in hand.

"Your tracker." They said again, reaching out, grabbing your arm in a tight grip after you could only stared at them. The needle plunged under your skin, forcing the device deep into your arm.

You let out a hiss as the needle pulled out, the peacekeeper leaving towards the far side of the ship. Your eyes meet with Foie, she still had that same look on her face, the same annoying weight of shame.

Of pity.

You force your eyes from her, staring at the ground. You swallow as the plane begins to shake, the sound of jets beginning to shoot out. You shut your eyes tightly, your hands enclosing on themselves.

You wanted Cato. You wanted him to hold your hand, to comfort you. For him fo cradle you close as he had before, whispering words of comfort and closure into your head.
Into your heart.

The ride was longer than you wanted, much longer. You assumed maybe, it was because it was further away. Or maybe it was because you were beginning to really feel fear.