Finally. After five years of wanting to write a Cato/Clove story, I finally did.

This takes place before the reaping of the 74th Hunger Games.

Enjoy!

As Fate Would Have It

A beautiful fifteen-year-old girl sat on her bed, a deep frown on her child-like face. Her golden brown eyes were narrowed into slits as she stared at the piece of paper in her hands.

Danika – 74th Hunger Games Female Tribute

Ajax – 74th Hunger Games Male Tribute

Rebecca – 75th Hunger Games Female Tribute

Cato – 75th Hunger Games Male Tribute

Clove – 76th Hunger Games Female Tribute

Mason – 76th Hunger Games Male Tribute

The listing the academy published each year was out, detailing who the volunteers were going to be for the upcoming years. District 2 was known for having pre-picked volunteers for the Hunger Games. It was true, only the best in the academy were allowed to volunteer for the Games. Only the best were allowed to compete and represent their district.

Clove snarled and crumpled up the stupid paper.

Of course, she wasn't set to compete in the Hunger Games for another two years. That was ridiculous. She was ready now. She would win the Games, even though the instructors thought she was much too small and didn't control her temper well enough.

Screw them.

Despite trying her hardest, a few angry tears leaked out of her eyes.

Who were they to say she wasn't good enough? She knew she was good enough – she would be able to win, if only they allowed her to volunteer.

"Clove?" The young girl jumped at the voice, quickly wiping her tears away from her face. She spun to face her bedroom door, seeing her training partner leaning against the frame.

"Oh. Hi," she muttered lamely. She wiped her face again, removing trace amounts of the glistening liquid. The blond haired man frowned deeply and pushed off the door, moving towards Clove.

"What's wrong?"

"Have you seen the published documents from the academy, Cato?" Clove asked hoarsely. Cato sat down beside the brown haired beauty, taking one of her small hands in his large, calloused one.

"I have," he said slowly. "I see you have, too," Cato added, pointing to the crumped paper on the floor. Clove's face screwed up in pain.

"Screw them," she growled, kicking the paper across the room. "They don't think I'm good enough!" she scoffed. Cato squeezed her hand.

"You're wrong," he said. "They think you could be great."

"Think I could be," she mocked. "I am great, no questions!"

"They think you'll be even greater in two years, when you're seventeen," Cato replied. Clove snorted. "Plus, I'm not listed until next year."

"You don't get to have an opinion. You've been chosen to compete at the Quarter Quell – that's even more honorable than getting chosen to compete this year. I want to compete in the Quarter Quell!"

"Just be glad that you're listed in general," Cato pointed out. "That's a big enough honor on its own. Most students never get chosen. Only the top two, every year."

"I know that," Clove snapped. She rubbed her head, her shoulders falling. "I don't feel honoured. I feel disrespected. Why am I not good enough for this year? Why am I not good enough for the Quarter Quell?" She sighed deeply. "It's just not fair, you know?"

"You would really want to compete with me at the Quarter Quell?" Cato asked, his voice laced with attitude. She shrugged. "Clove, that's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard!"

"Well, sorry, Cato, but it isn't like I'll be able to compete in the next one." She rolled her brown eyes.

"So you would rather compete with me than just compete in a normal Game?" he questioned, his arms crossing.

"Well, yes, I would rather compete next year than any other year! Why don't you just compete in a normal Games, if you don't want to compete with me!" she snapped. Cato's eyes fell to her lap and his arms uncrossed. "I don't see what the big problem is."

"The big problem?" Cato snapped, his dark blue eyes boring into Clove's. "The problem is I love you. Both of us wouldn't make it out alive, you know that, right?" Clove sighed and gripped his thigh with her hand.

"I know… I'm sorry," she muttered. "I'm just mad."

"I can't imagine competing in the same Games as you," Cato continued. "If we compete together, I would rather die than lose you. Honestly, I don't know what I would do if you died in the arena." Clove squeezed his thigh reassuringly, but he didn't respond. "I would be so caught up in protecting you, I wouldn't remember how to be a Career!" He turned his gaze to her. "What would you do, Clove. What would you do if I died, huh?"

"I would be lost," she answered simply. Tears were threatening to build, just thinking of losing her best friend, training partner, and love. He gently took her hand.

"I would be lost, too. What good would that do? One of us would have to die eventually, which would send the other into a frenzy. We would both die. Don't you see?"

"Yes, I see."

"And what would you do if we were the last two?" Cato asked. "Would you kill me? Would you allow me to kill you?"

"I-" She choked on her words.

"If I had to kill you, I wouldn't live with myself. I would rather they have no victor than live with knowing that I was the one to kill you." Clove shut her eyes tightly, squeezing Cato's hand until her knuckles were white.

"Why are we talking about this, Cato?" Clove snapped.

"You brought it up," Cato replied. They were silent for a few moments. "Although, the only good thing that would come from being in the arena with you, would be that I would be able to help and protect you as long as I could." Clove snorted and glared at the man.

"I don't need protection, Cato. I can handle anything myself."

"I know. That doesn't mean I wouldn't give it, my Clove." He brushed her cheek and she blushed. Even though they were hardened and trained killers, he still managed to show her his soft side, and he still managed to make her blush.

"I love you," Clove giggled, lunging at the blond male. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away.

"Hold on," Cato muttered. His eyes weren't focused on hers, rather, they were focused on her shoulder. His eyes caught sight of a bruise on her shoulder when her top slid down a bit. "What is this?" he asked. Cato lightly touched the bruise and Clove winced.

"It's a bruise, Cato…" Clove muttered awkwardly. His finger trailed lightly over the damaged skin.

"How did you get it?" He pulled down her sleeve a little more, revealing another bruise. "Clove?" He looked worried and it broke Clove's heart. "How did you get these?" he pressed, a little more forcefully. Clove gripped her shirt sleeve and pulled it up to cover herself again.

"During training," she responded. Cato frowned.

"I did this?" he questioned. Clove shrugged. Cato growled and got up from the bed. "Clove, you're supposed to tell me to stop if I hurt you."

"It didn't hurt at the time," she said. "Besides, they don't even hurt."

"Like hell they don't hurt!" Cato stalked back to the bed and cupped her face tenderly. "I never want to hurt you."

"I know you never mean to," she said. "But, Cato, we are training partners. We do fight with each other all of the time. I'm sure I've given you bruises, too."

"That's not my point." Clove raised her eyebrows and he groaned. "I just… You shouldn't be covering them up. You need to tell me. We can always change our routine. I can adjust my hits! Just tell me."

"I know," Clove responded, gentler than she did before. "I'm sorry, Cato." She said his name with such tenderness. Just a few words held so much love. Cato brushed her cheek softly, a small smile on his lips.

"I love you. I never want to be the one to hurt you." He got on his knees in front of her, placing soft kisses along her arm, leading up to her shoulder. His lips pressed against the soft cloth of her shirt gently once he reached where the bruises lay. Clove's eyes fluttered shut, reveling in the feel of his lips on her body.

She loved him so much.

Slowly, his lips left her shoulder and she groaned at the loss of his heat. She reopened her brown eyes, instantly coming into contact with his piercing blue eyes. Their noses were inches apart, their hot breaths mixing with the others.

Clove wrapped her arms around Cato's neck and pulled him in for a tight hug. Cato buried his nose into her hair and wrapped his arms around her back carefully. Clove and Cato pulled away from each other after a few minutes and smiled up at each other.

Clove's heart throbbed. She loved this man so much. She didn't think she could ever love anyone more than she loved him. She didn't love anything more than she loved him – not even her knives or her training.

She could imagine the day where they lived together in Victor's Village. They would have their own homes, right beside each other, as they would win in two separate Games. After they made their relationship public, they would eventually pick the more desirable house, and move into it. Together.

Clove was never a soft girl, but the thought of living with the love of her life for the rest of her days only brought a smile to her face.

She didn't know what she would do without Cato.

Clove didn't even realize she was leaning forward until her lips connected with Cato's. He pulled back immediately, a sly smile spreading across his face. He stood up from the floor, his large body towering over her sitting out.

"Come here," he whispered. He took her hands in his and hauled her to her feet. Cato leaned down and captured her pink lips with his with such force that Clove stumbled backwards a few steps. He wrapped his arms tightly around her small frame, pulling her into his body, steading her once again. His arms snaked around her tiny waist and pulled her body flush against his. Both could feel the curve of one another.

Clove sighed against his lips, a smile forming on her lips. Her dainty hands found their way to the back of his head, her fingers threading into his blond locks. Her fingernails scratched the back of his scalp, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He moaned against the kiss at the contact, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth.

Clove groaned loudly at the feeling of every muscle under his clothing. Every breath he took resulted in her feeling his muscled body under their clothing.

She wanted to remove the two layers of cloth, separating their bodies.

But she couldn't.

They both pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air. Their foreheads touched each other, their breaths mingled together. Their chests heaved at the same time, continually pressing their bodies against each other.

It was driving Clove mad.

She pulled away from his grip, sliding down to sit on her bed once more. He joined her, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. She leaned her head down on his side, letting her eyes fall shut.

They stayed in that position for what felt like an eternity, each peacefully drinking in the other.

"Clove!" Clove's mother's voice pierced the air. The two teenagers jumped away from each other instantly. "You need to get ready! You too, Cato!"

The pair looked at each other, a small smile on their faces.

"I'll see you at the reaping," Cato said, standing up from the bed. Clove smiled softly.

"I'll see you there." She pressed a final kiss to his lips before he left.

That was the last time their lips ever met.

As fate would have it, Clove was reaped for the Games later that day. Danika, the chosen tribute, had injured her arm earlier, therefore, she never volunteered. Nobody dared volunteer in place of Clove, knowing she was the academy's next choice. Not wanting to lose her, Cato volunteered himself in place of the boy chosen.

As Cato predicted, neither of them left the arena.

I hope you enjoyed this short story of mine. In my head, I always imagined that Cato and Clove had a relationship before the Games, but their mentors decided to discourage it, afraid it would make them look weak. That's why they weren't on the best of terms in the arena, but explains why Cato was so impacted by Clove's death. That scene in the book will always get me...

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Thanks for reading,

Pawprinter