A/N - Hi guys, well really I wrote this to explore the Cato/Clove relationship that seemed to be implied at some points in The Hunger Games. I find them very interesting characters individually so them as a pair is fascinating. I'm really not one for Author's notes but I thought it only appropriate as this is the first chapter. So here we go. I hope you enjoy reading because I'm really excited to write this piece!

"These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder." - William Shakespeare

We had only been on the train for two minutes before I noticed Clove's stare. Clove. My best friend. We had been best friends for years and before today she had never looked at me with anything but love in her eyes. Now, it was different. Her usual doting stare had been replaced by a calculating icy one. I knew Clove well enough to know that suddenly the game has changed; I was no longer her friend. I was an obstacle that stood in the way of her living, and Clove didn't take well to obstacles.

As she stared at me from the armchair opposite, eyes roaming my body looking for a chink in my armour so to speak, I tried to make eye contact with her. Desperately trying to remind her that nothing had to change for now. Even when she caught my eye she didn't stop, she merely continued on with her analysis, unfazed by my eyes on her face. This wasn't a game to her.

There was really no point in her trying to deduce my weaknesses, if I had any she would know by now. Clove and I had trained together at the academy for four years. She began when she was twelve and was moved up to the advanced class on her first day. Apparently for her "knife throwing" skills but none of us had seen it. When she first arrived I was in no way impressed, at fourteen, I was the youngest member of the advanced class and there was nothing I disliked more than being outshone. I wasn't the only one who didn't accept Clove, none of the guys had any interest in her and the girls made fun of her for being "feral". It was only when she stabbed one of those girls in the thigh that I realised she was feral. She was lethal. I was impressed.

After the attack I introduced myself but she was almost as uninterested toward me as I had previously been towards her; this again was something I didn't take well to. Even at fourteen I had that signature "Cato Charm" figured out and it never failed me. When I threw Clove my brilliant smirk that usually got me exactly what I wanted she didn't react. Not a flinch. My first thought was to take my wounded pride and slope off, but no, I had never quit anything before and I wasn't going to start now. I wanted Clove to be my friend and I would make sure that would happen.

It took months before she became comfortable around me. Around others she would tense up, stay silent, but with me she eventually let her walls come down. I started to get to know the girl with the knives. She was funny, as quick witted as anything and she could leave comebacks that stung for days. We developed this easy friendship that was like none other I'd ever known. It wasn't fuelled by competition or "keeping your enemies close", it was based on actually enjoying another person's company. A rarity in District 2. By the time this fateful reaping arrived, four years later, we were best friends.

I was broken out of my memories by the sound of her grinding her teeth, a habit I knew she had whenever she was concentrating mercilessly on something. I really couldn't take this. Although fighting to the death against my best friend wasn't an ideal situation I didn't want to lose her until the last second possible. There was a week before we even got into the arena so why bring our friendship to a halt now when we need each other the most? Clove would never admit it but I know she is frightened, and I will be there for her if she'll let me. She has to let me.

"Clove?" I say, breaking her out of her trance like state in which she was figuring out the best way to kill me.

"What?" she snapped back, we were always sharp with each other but that was our humour, this was something else. Something colder. Something I wasn't going to deal with any longer.

"I need to talk to you." I say, trying to keep my usual bravado intact. I suppose it doesn't matter if it drops with Clove but its not good practice to get into, and especially not when she is being so unlike herself.

"Well, talk." Clove clearly wasn't giving up on her current mindset easily; she was more detached than I'd even seen her before.

"Somewhere private." I said, motioning my head over to Brutus our mentor who was just about as deadly as me. He obliterated all his competition in his games and I intend to do exactly the same.

"Ugh, fine." Clove said as she rose. I allowed myself to smile, although only a little. Annoyance, annoyance was good. It was a lot better than when we were thirty seconds ago as at least it was something I recognised.

This tiny crack in her newly acquired calculating veneer reminded me of how much I loved Clove. As I stood and followed her into the hallway I realised how much my best friend means to me. How much I would miss her if she was gone. In that moment I realised, there was no way I could kill Clove. All I could do is hope that by some act of mercy another tribute would kill her first. Then again, The Hunger Games really wasn't known for being merciful.