A/N: This is kinda just the companion piece to Clato: Death
Disclaimer: Alexander Ludwig or Isabelle Fuhrman
Cato POV:
I think about her, before I die. Clove. I think about everything I did to her, everything I said to her, and everything I did for her. I think about how I've hurt her, and how've I helped her. How I stood up for her, and how I became a tribute for her.
"Cato, honey, come down, the reaping is going to start soon. We don't want to be late."
"Mom, is it OK, if I go with Clove?"
"Sure." She said looking at me with surprise.
I rush out, before my mom can ask me any questions. I run over the train track to Clove's house. She lived in the richer part of town, because her dad was a Peacekeeper. I still remember her brown eyes looking at me from her window, and lighting up. I hear little steps, dancing down from her room. She floats out in a black strapless dress with a little bow tied in the back. She's wearing black flats and I don't think I've ever seen her this beautiful. We walk, hand in hand to the center of town. The first thing I remember seeing was the giant glass bowl with everyone's name in it. Barry Osberry, our capital man announces the beginning. Everyone separates from each other, and I'm forced to let go of Clove's hand.
"Ladies first of course." He says chivalrously. He reaches his hand into the bowl, and pulls it out.
"Clove Füremen." The name rings through town, and the girl next to me, disappears and walks the long walk to the stage. She reappears, looking slightly stunned. In district 2, it's an honor to be picked, but the look of Clove's face, was one close to horror and sadness. I knew she would win for me, but…
"Next are the men." Barry announces. He reaches into the bowl, and takes out a slip of paper, but someone raises their hand, and says, "I volunteer."
I look around, wondering, who just vowed to watch Clove. I had, I had just become a tribute. I walk to the stage, and all I can see is the look in Clove's eyes of resignation, and then a fiery determination. She will not let me lose. But I can't lose her.
I remember it all. Watching myself climb up the steps to the stage and stand beside Clove. Shaking her hand, and being ushered into the Justice building, the good- byes. Like a viewer in a movie theater, watching the guy walk to his willing death for the girl, the girl of his life. I die, and all I can do is hope and pray, that I will see her face again.