So this is my first ever fanfic. Ever. Why I decided to do this? Because of all the Clato feels. Oh my god.

God I love Cato and Clove so much it kills me. I had to write a story after reading all these amazing other fanfics about the 2. Oh god. The Clato feelings.

Sorry that Cato doesn't come out much in this chapter. He will in the next! I promise!

Thank you for reading (or deciding to read) it means so much to me

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or these fabulous characters. Suzanne Collins does.

She had known him for as long as she could remember.

Not in a friendly way.

Not in a special way.

And certainly not in a romantic sort of way.

She just knew him. Knew his name; knew that he existed; knew that he knew her in the exact same way.

She just knew him. And that was it. There was nothing more, and nothing less.

She didn't exactly remember when she first saw him. It might have been when they were born; it might have been when they were three, maybe even when they were five. But she knew that wasn't the case, as she remembered vividly how that day had been, what he had done, and how she recognized him in that training centre from the moment he stood up.

That was how long he had been in her life. And that was how long she had been in his life.

Despite this, they had never acknowledged one another. Never. Never a nod of the head, never a small 'hello'. If their eyes ever met across a room or even on the street, they would look away as if they had seen nothing. As if they had seen no one.

That was how it always was.

And that was how Clove Lockwood liked it.

And she knew that was how Cato Thorman liked it too.

Clove opened her eyes from sleep. She felt wonderful, which was an extremely strange sensation, as in normal circumstances Clove would have a knife to the throat of anyone who woke her from her sleep, in less than a second. Even if that was her father, or her sister, or even her mother.

No, she thought bitterly. Especially if it was her.

She had never recovered her relationship with her mother since that day, since that dark and gruesome day. And she vowed that she never would. Never could and never should.

Instead of the usual scowl that was on her face in the morning, Clove got up with a somewhat amused expression as she headed for the shower. She stripped off and stepped into the shower cubicle as the water automatically turned on and the wonderful hot water was immediately spraying her body. It had a sensor that sensed the body temperature of a human and would turn on at the exact heat that it was set to turn onto. It was an item that wasn't too common. It wasn't because it was unpopular or people thought it was useless. It was mainly because of the cost.

The Lockwood's were able to afford these items because they were a wealthy family. Clove's father ran one of the businesses in District Two, which was significantly one of the biggest.

Of course, being one of the Capitol's favourite Districts, they were never under the threat of poverty in the first place. Very much unlike the districts such as Eleven and Twelve.

They always had enough food to feed themselves, always had enough money to even feed other people, and they always had enough money to train.

There was no need to put in your name for tessarae in District Two.

Firstly, because you didn't need to.

And secondly, nobody bothered to put their names in extra times, when someone was always going to volunteer.

District Two was a career District.

Meaning that the District trained teenagers from the age of twelve to eighteen, so that they would be suitable for the Games. So that they would be strong enough for the Games. So that they would be confident in the Games.

So that they would be able to kill in the games.

Although it was illegal to train for the Games, the Capitol overlooked this fact because having Careers meant that they would be powerful. They would be deadly. They would enjoy killing. They would make the Games so much more fun.

Clove smirked at the thought of that. The thought of being able to entertain the Capitol whilst killing the tributes, even her district partner, was an electrifying feeling, and she shuddered at the excitement.

Of course they would form alliances with the other Career Districts. Especially One. Which Clove didn't mind of course; it didn't change the fact that they were going to die by her hands. By her knife, slitting their throats and peeling of their skin as they screamed in agony. Just the thought of it brought a smile to her lips.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

She looked to the door with an irritated expression before pulling on her training uniform. Today, of course, would be the start of real training for the Games with real weapons and with people who could actually dodge her knives. Although Clove knew there would be nobody who could do that.

She never misses.

Which was why she was going to be the best at the training centre, and she was going to volunteer at the reaping, and she was going to win the Hunger Games. Of course, the mentors wouldn't let the trainees use real weapons against each other. As heartless as they were, they didn't want anyone dying from measly training.

Clove sighed and went to the door. She opened it just as her mother had turned her back and started walking. Clove couldn't hide her scowl as she followed her down the stairs.

'Good morning and welcome to the real training day my future Careers!' A bright, excited voice rang out and Clove rolled her eyes.

She was sick of that bright and loud voice of Taron Reesor, the Head Mentor of the training centre. It was something that gave her enough reason to throw a few knives into his skull. She was seriously on the brink of doing exactly that when he had stated the other day that her knife-throwing skills were not 'up to the Games standard'.

She was so furious at that statement that it took absolutely every bit of will power not to thrust the knife in her hand deeply into his throat.

Clove was one of the greatest knife-throwers there ever were in this District, and she knew it as well as he did. The fact that he said it as though she would die in the Games if she were at this level, absolutely infuriated her.

The only thing that stopped her from killing him (as well as her extreme will power) was the fact that Taron was extremely skilled in any sort of fighting style. He was the only one who could beat the strongest male trainee in hand-to-hand combat, as well as beat him in his sword-fighting skills. He could use spears, javelins, bows and arrows; even his knife-throwing skills were exceptional.

He participated in the Games thirteen years ago when he was only fourteen and won fully because even it was a twig of a branch, it instantly became deadly when Taron had it in his hands. Even the tribute from District Four with his trident was no match against Taron, as no matter how skilled he was, Taron was just that much better and of course, he too was able to use a trident.

Clove did have a small sense of admiration for that power. For her, even though the trainees here were specially selected to come to this training centre today, the majority of them were still pathetic and weak. She was sure they would be down in three seconds if forced to face her, and as much as it annoyed her to think this, Taron could probably take them down in less than one. Of course, he was Head Mentor so she didn't think of this as much a big deal; it would have been horrible if even the Head Mentor was not a match for Clove.

There were those few exceptions though. Just that small number of trainees who were the same level as her, or maybe even higher.

Clove glanced around the room where everyone was standing, trying to catch a glimpse of the real trainees. She was short and relatively small so it was a little bit of a struggle, but eventually she caught sight of a few 'future Careers'. She smirked.

At least fighting them would be entertaining.

She turned her attention back to Taron.

'I'll be splitting you guys up in gender and age group to see how much you've developed your skills from the last time you trained. Ah, and before you groan or threaten to kill me, this is just to see what level you're going to fit into, alright? I'm not judging you already. After all, you all didn't make it here with no skill at all, right?' Taron sent a cheesy wink in the trainees' direction, which some people sniggered to, but most people kept their faces blank.

Taron sighed.

'You guys really have no sense of humour do you?' he said.

Clove snorted and a few people looked this way.

We come here and train to fucking kill people, idiot, she thought. Not to have fun and make lot's of friends.

Taron dismissed them with a wave of the hand and everyone started to assemble them selves.

Clove was sixteen. She wasn't exactly young, but was definitely the youngest when she had first stepped into the training centre eleven years ago. Everybody had underestimated her because of how young she was and because of her innocent look, but throwing a few fake knives into the twenty-something dummies shut them up quite quickly.

She had become somewhat the centre of attention at that stage, and even to this day many of the trainees feared her because of her skills and her bloodlust.

'Ah, Clove. Seeing as you seem to be the most experienced here, why don't you go first?' A woman in her thirties with her hair in a tight bun asked Clove as she entered the forming circle of girls. This woman was the mentor of their group and she was most definitely not afraid of Clove.

This irritated her. Apart from Taron, almost every adult feared her.

She put on an obnoxious smile.

'It would be my pleasure,' she said sweetly and walked over to the weapon stand.

There were countless numbers of weapons. Spears, swords, javelins, arrows, tridents, whips, canes and of course, knives.

Clove smiled and took three knives off the table. Feeling the familiar weight in her hands excited her and she turned around to face the ten dummies while twirling the knife between her fingers. She heard people swallow behind her, which gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. Everyone here today did not necessarily come from the same training centre, so there were many that knew her name, definitely, but did not know about her skills.

Clove threw her knife.

It cut through the air with precision and struck the heart of the furthest dummy. A perfect bullseye.

She heard people gasp and she smirked.

She threw the other two while picking up three knives from the table behind her, throwing them in different directions, not even bothering to check if they had hit. She picked up the remaining four knives, putting two in each hand and simultaneously sent them piercing through the air.

In less then ten seconds, all ten dummies had a knife piercing their hearts.

Clove turned around in satisfaction as the girls gaped at her. Even her mentor looked surprised.

'Thank you,' she said and turned around to leave.

This was not the level she should be at. People gaping at her because of this. All she had done was throw them. She had not slashed anything; cut anything open; pierced the knife through someone's skull. No. She had thrown them and they were all looking at her as though they had never seen anything that amazing. She shook her head. This was a waste of time. She wanted something challenging.

Clove whipped her head around to the sound of gasps and murmurs.

It was coming from the direction of the male trainees. Plucking the knife out of one of the dummies as she walked, Clove set her gaze on the male trainee that was the cause of the murmurs.

He was chopping the dummies heads off with his right hand, while stabbing the dummy behind him with his left. He wasn't even looking behind him as he did this, but the sword pierced its heart with the precision of Clove's knives.

Her eyes instantly narrowed.

Cato Thorman.

He was the eighteen-year-old male trainee; the best trainee out of all the training centers and was rumoured to be the one to volunteer for the upcoming Hunger Games. He was tall with a well-built body, extremely handsome with blond hair and electrifying blue eyes. Half of the girls were crazy about him although he never returned the feelings they had. Like Clove, he was only brought up to kill and win the Hunger Games.

He slashed at three dummies splitting them in half all at once, and used both swords to stab the forehead and the heart of the remaining one.

Cato smirked as the rest of the group sat there staring at him. With a snap of his wrist he pulled the swords out of the dummy as wool fell out, and returned them to the table.

Clove heard him thank the mentor sarcastically and turned around shaking his head, still with the smirk on his face. She didn't realize he was looking at her until she raised her gaze and his electric blue eyes met her dark brown ones. They stood there for a while; Cato still flexing his hands from holding the swords, and Clove twirling the knife in hers.

Eventually, they broke their gaze at the same time and averted their eyes to the other trainees.

So I hope you guys enjoyed it! Well it's only the first chapter so it's not that exciting. Man am I looking forward to completing this! Sorry if my chapters don't come very quick! I will be juggling with school so please don't be too harsh on me *innocent smile*

Thanks for reading! :)

It would boost my self esteem HEAPS if you guys reviewed ;)