A/N: This is my first fic involving Clove and Cato and The Hunger Games in general, hopefully I do it justice, I believe they're an extremely difficult pairing to write, because their relationship is real complex and we've only seen glimpses of what went on 'behind-the-scenes'. I really did not want this to be "that" fic where they cuddle up next to the fire and kiss and talk about how fluffy and magical their innocent love is. But I didn't want them to be stone-cold, void of emotion statues. But the ending may be slightly fluffy, it depends on your opinion on it.
This was actually heavily inspired by the movie too, although I am still a bit butt-hurt that they left out the hand-holding scene. But Isabelle Fuhrman was flawless, and the small scene where Clove cried out for Cato was A+.
In this fic, Clove and Thresh's death will be more similar to the book's version, Cato's to the movie's. Also it's written in 3rd POV, and at some points you'll know that it's limited to only Clove or only Cato, but some of it will also be an omniscient 3rd POV.
I do not own anything referring to The Hunger Games, all belongs to Suzanne Collins.
"Have you ever thought about the future?"
It was a simple question, really, but for a minute it caught Clove off guard.
"What do you mean?"
Silence followed.
Cato was laying on his back to her left, his head resting back on his arms as he stared at the sky. She couldn't help but look up too, as if the dark sky was flooded with stars. A large sword was tucked under his leg, two smaller ones lying on a rock near his head. A large array of knives was lying next to Clove, as she picked them up one by one to inspect the blade. The fire crackled and hissed in front of them, the musky scent of smoke filling their senses. Clove waited for a reply as she flicked a knife across a smooth stone, listening to the noise that oddly soothed her.
"I mean when the games are over, when we win." He countered with a small shrug. When they win, right. The announcement from Claudius Templesmith revealing the change of rules was made a few hours prior, and for once since the bloodbath had ended, the two teenagers from District 2 stopped in the middle of their hunt and exchanged genuine smiles. Smiles of guaranteed triumph and silent promises.
"Well, we're forever promised fame and fortune." Clove mocked the deep voice of the Capitol-made propaganda video, making Cato snort.
"You know what I mean," he muttered, kicking at a pebble near his foot and watching it shoot across the forest before connecting with a tree and bouncing back into a patch of grass. Clove turned her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at her companion.
"Just spit it out, Cato." She rolled her eyes fondly, turning back to the sleek stone in hand, and sharpened another one of her larger knives. The one she used for her first kill in the arena. Cato gave her a threatening look, but with a teasing glint in his eyes before he reached over and snatched the smooth stone from her grasp.
"Hey! Give it back!" Clove's hands immediately gripped at Cato's wrist, but he only flicked the rock quickly behind his head as she grappled for it futilely. He grinned smugly as she shot him a displeased glare, looking around her to see if there was another stone to use.
"Hey, listen to me, give your knives a rest, you'll be using them later." Cato released a booming laugh as she raised a fist at him in aggression.
"C'mon, seriously. Have you ever really thought about the future?"
"I just want to get out of this shit hole before I start thinking about my future." She answered darkly, and Cato raised a brow at her with a small smirk.
"You say that as if you don't know if we're going to win." He snorted. For good measure, he gripped one of his swords tucked underneath his leg, and flung it across the fire pit and watched as it stabbed right into the middle of a tree trunk.
"No, of course we're going to win. But I'm just saying," she pursed her lips, grabbing a dull knife and flinging it straight towards Cato's sword and smirking when it stuck onto the center of the small handle.
"Well then, tell me." He elbowed her torso and grinned when she elbowed him back just as roughly.
"How about you tell me first."
Cato inhaled slowly as if her offer wasn't a fair deal, but he looked back at her with some unreadable intent in his eyes as he replied.
"When all the fame dies out, and they'll have more than enough winners from District 2 after us, we won't have to be mentors anymore and… I don't know. Maybe I can start a training center, something like that. I could teach them a bunch of different skills. I was better at shooting that arrow at Fire Girl when she was up in the tree than Glimmer." He spits out the Career's name with annoyance, embarrassed that a Career from District 1 died so easily. But he was also angered that the pair from District 12 was still alive.
"That sounds nice." Clove replied with a small sigh, leaning back and falling in a heap a few feet away from Cato's form.
"You could help too, you know." He murmured, Clove shot him an amused smile and folded her arms on her chest. "I'm just saying, you're better at handling smaller knives than me, and we could train generations of winning Tributes. More unstoppable Cloves and Catos." He laughed at the thought.
"And you're assuming they'll win every year too? At least unless this new rule is revoked." She snorted at the thought of small girls and boys receiving instruction from her and Cato. Cato ignored her question and shrugged.
"Now, I've told you what I've thought of, you tell me what you're thinking." Cato straightened his back, and rolled on his right side so he could face Clove with interest. She gave him a look of disbelief and he motioned for her to continue.
Clove scoffed, they were in the middle of the Hunger Games, any kind of monster could jump out at them at any second and the Cato wanted to talk about the future? But she locked eyes with him, and saw the eagerness as he grinned at her mockingly. She groaned before adjusting her position so she was on her left side, facing Cato with an annoyed expression.
"Well, I see my future as being as peaceful as possible. Maybe Panem will be a bit different… I want to finish school, you know. I've always wanted to learn history – don't look at me like that! – but I can barely learn anything new other than what the Capitol has told us. And also… Maybe the Hunger Games will discontinue, it's too… exhausting to watch, boring too."
Cato knit his brows at her last sentence, pushing up off the ground and giving her a small look of skepticism.
"You softening on me, Clove?"
She glared at him fiercely.
"Shut up Cato, you're the one who wanted to talk about this."
He raised his hands in surrender before falling back on the grass beneath him. Silence followed, and Clove gripped her knives in both hands tightly as her eyes drooped.
"Clove?"
"What, Cato."
"Have you ever wondered what would've happened if we met under different circumstances?"
Her eyes popped back open, and she grinned sinisterly.
"I'd still be able to kill you."
And with that, Cato threw his head back and let out another booming laugh at her response. He pretended to wipe at his eyes to humor her because the thought of Clove killing him was too incongruous.
"Why are you laughing so hard? I've been training since I was seven!" Clove pointed out with a small curve on her lips that threatened to form a smile.
"If you've forgotten, so have I." Cato smirked darkly.
More silence followed and Clove was beginning to feel drowsy again. That is, until Cato's voice startled her once more.
"Hey Clove."
Clove opened her eyes, her vision blurred with sleep. She blinked slowly as her sight remained unfocused and she saw double.
"How about some time in our future, and after we win, you and I go for some coffee."
Clove was too tired to tease him about anything, but the thought of getting out of the arena and drinking some coffee – or even any kind of safe liquid other than lake water– sounded like a swell idea.
So she closed her eyes and hummed in agreement.
"When we win." She answered. It wasn't a solid yes or no, but Cato didn't need to be told either way. He knew what her answer was, and he grinned victoriously to himself.
"When we win."
This is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something… desperately.
"Just let the idiots kill each other, we're perfectly fine on our own, I don't know what we'd possibly need right now. We've got some rabbit, water, bandages and leftover medicine. It'd be pointless."
Clove crossed her arms as she slipped the last of her newly-sharpened knives in her jacket.
"You're kidding, Cato." She scoffed. He didn't reply, only mirroring her actions and crossing his arms as well. He took a few steps forward, coming face to face with the fiery girl.
"You're really passing up a chance to kill them? We're just getting it over with; they'll be dead sooner or later, why not now?" Clove argued angrily, tightening the thick belt of knives around her waist.
"I have a gut feeling, that's all." Cato spat back, gripping her forearm in a violent manner. "You're not going there, aren't we a team? An alliance? Don't go."
Clove tried to fling the hand off her arm, but it was hopeless, he had more strength. Cato had always had more strength, she was more agile. And the thought angered her, and her instincts kicked in.
"Let go of me now, Cato," she said slowly, pulling a small knife out and pressing it against Cato's hand, just lightly enough so he could feel it, but not hard enough to penetrate his skin. His grip tightened, and without hesitation, she pressed a cut into his hand and he pulled his hand back in shock.
Instantly, she took flight and started running towards the Cornucopia. The Girl on Fire would be first, and then the rest. She heard Cato running after her and she ran faster. She heard him calling out for her, and barely saw a spear being thrown to the right of her direction, stabbing straight into a tree trunk threateningly. He kept calling out for her to 'give it up' and 'give it a rest', but she rolled her eyes and kept on running.
"Fine, Clove, do whatever the hell you want! Get yourself killed for all I fucking care!"
Clove sighed when she heard the footsteps behind her cease. Cato always said he was up for a challenge, he was a killer, yet why was he choosing to stray away from the danger and act like such a wimp? Clove rolled her eyes at the thought. Cato had always thought he was the baddest of the bad, no one could defeat him. But Clove was going to prove that taking chances is good.
Because you have to take chances in the Hunger Games, or else you're dead.
She reached the edge of the woods, and her eyes flickered around searching for any signs of prey.
She saw a bright flash of red pop out from inside the Cornucopia, but suddenly the person was already across the field with a bag tucked under her arm, and Clove didn't even bother.
She could kill her later.
Just as she was about to get comfortable in her stance in the trees, she saw another flash of a human, except it was much more slower even though you could see the determination in her eyes.
Fire girl.
She was dead.
Clove jumped up from her stance and ran furiously towards 12. Just as the other girl turned around, she threw a knife and cursed when it only barely grazed her skin as she moved. An arrow immediately shot at her and she dodged it quickly and groaned when it ended up lodged slightly in her left arm. Then she threw another knife, managing to leave a small cut on the girl's face.
Not good enough.
She watched as 12 tried to run, but Clove ran full speed towards her retreating form. She slammed into her, knocking the both of them on the ground. She immediately reached for one of her larger knives before bringing it down towards the shape of a head.
Missed.
She growled furiously as 12 struggled beneath her, rolling them over and over and over until Clove finally got a grip on her arms and legs. She laughed evilly, watching as 12's face contorted into one of horror.
"Where's Loverboy? Hmm?" More struggling, Clove grinned. "How about – what was her name? – Oh, Rue, right? We killed her didn't we? How pathetic she was, all she could do was jump around the trees like a wild animal." she smirked, reaching down and stabbing the ground next to 12's hair with the large knife in hand.
"Well, now you're dead too, and Loverboy – wherever he is – will die soon too. It's only a matter of time," she sniggered, reaching down with her free hand and bringing up a small blade.
So much skin, it was like a canvas. A large canvas that Clove was trained and taught to draw on. So many intricate patterns that could form. But the final painting always looked the same. It was always the same.
And this time would be no different.
Clove chuckled in amusement as the girl beneath her struggled and fought against her iron grip. It was like watching a fish flop on land, although this would be much, much more entertaining. She was actually a bit sad that Cato was going to miss it.
She traced the skin on her cheek, and just as she prepared to cut into a bulging artery, she had the wind knocked out of her when she was pulled up and slammed against something violently. She could feel the bones of her back popping and maybe even breaking as the wind knocked out of her.
She forced her eyes open and the knife dropped from her hands as she cowered away.
It was the guy from District 11.
And from her angle, as her feet dangled off the ground, he was as terrifying as any kind of monster the gamemakers could conjure up.
"What'd you do to Rue, you kill her?" He screamed in her face, she tried to push away from him as much as she could but it was hopeless. The stocky boy from District 1 came into mind, sent to kill the small girl from District 11 when they heard her screaming out 12's name.
"No! It was Marvel! It was Marvel!" She cried helplessly, she broke away from his grip but was thrown down on the ground and cornered into an area inside the Cornucopia.
"I heard you say her name! Did you cut her up like you were going to do to her?" His voice grew in volume as he nodded his head back in the direction of the girl who was once at Clove's mercy. Clove stammered helplessly, wondering where things went wrong.
Never turn your back.
She scrambled away, fumbling to get up but being held down by some kind of force that was created with her own fear. She shook and screamed out when she saw the large, jagged rock in 11's hand.
Then she screams a name, her partner, the one that she had a silent agreement with since the beginning, ever since they were reaped as they shared a knowing glance over the large glass bowls and podium. The first person she knew was with her, she could trust in. The one she didn't bother to listen to, going off on her own and breaking that silent promise as loudly as possible.
"Cato! Cato!" She screams, a crack in her voice as she screeches as loudly as she could. 11 approaches her with vengeance in his eyes and Clove screams once more, "CATO!"
Then she hears it.
It's her name.
And the voice is Cato.
"Clove!"
But where was he?
She saw it coming before she felt it. 11 – Thresh – was bringing a rock down and she could see it colliding with her head. She closed her eyes but the pain was inevitable. She fell limp on the ground, and saw triple. Triple soon became sextuple, and there were so many Thresh's, so many Katniss's, and they were all running further away.
And she was left alone to die.
"Clove!"
A silent beat.
And then whispered words.
"Oh shit."
Nothing registers in her mind anymore, her eyes are still wide open with traces of fear but she can't see, she can't feel, the throbbing pain is gone almost as immediately as she felt it, and she's left with nothing. Somehow there are still groans coming from her, but the sounds don't even register with her.
Cato is on his knees gripping her hand tightly, remorse is evident in his voice as he tries to shake her awake, his hands are on her shoulders as he shakes her side to side, only cringing when blood seeps from the dent in her head. He begs for her to wake, for her to look at him, her eyes are opened but she isn't looking.
A cannon fires.
Cato had ended up following behind her anyway, but had taken time because he knew Clove would be fine on her own. He had seen her practice since they were barely pre-teens, he knew she could handle it. But he had forgotten her one weakness. Which was brute strength. And then he remembered the guy who was nearly his size from District 11. And he was still alive. He ran as fast as he could, and he was close enough to hear a girlish scream that wasn't the tone of Clove's voice. The only girls left were the one from 5 and 12, 5 definitely wouldn't come out from her hiding place now, so it had to be Katniss Everdeen. The scream wasn't very promising, so 12 had to be the one struggling. So he slowed his pace and continued climbing up the hill without any worries. Then he heard an animalistic growl and it definitely came from a male. A mere minute later, a scream that definitely sounded like Clove's voice.
So he ran and ran and yelled back when he heard his name being called.
But he was a little too late.
He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. And he doesn't show much emotion because he can hear Clove's voice in the back of his mind.
What the hell do you think you're doing? Go kill that prick for doing this to me! If you don't, you'll never live it down. I want you to tear his skin apart. Go... Go!
Cato grips his spear, squeezes Clove's hand one last time with a lingering look, memorizing the slope of her nose and the dive down to her lips, the rich, brown hair falling around her head, and the pool of blood surrounding it. He forces himself to let go, and straightaway he sees red, fury clouds his vision. He tears after the direction he saw Thresh running into last, and swipes at the trees and branches. He runs into the large valley of tall grass nearly his height. It was eerily silent and the wind was practically whispering warnings for him to run away. He spit to his left and zipped up his jacket. He gripped the spear tightly in one hand, and an axe in the other.
For Clove.
Cato was leaning against the back of the Cornucopia. Thresh had gone all out, using every weapon he had available in his dwindling pile of supplies. But Cato had gone insane, clawing at his skin with the intent of tearing him apart. And in his head, Clove's voice had cheered him on with each stab, each kick, and each new puncture in Thresh's body. It lasted hours, as the thunder clapped around them, rain pouring down to wipe away at fresh blood pouring from new wounds.
It must've been quite a show for Panem, but that's what Clove had loved the most. A great show.
And because Thresh killed Clove with his own hands, Cato couldn't pass up an opportunity to return the favor. He hoped Clove was satisfied.
It had been satisfying for Cato, when he finally had Thresh defenseless at his feet, all weaponry away, and not enough strength to even lift a knuckle. He would've been dead already if Cato left him there to drown in his own blood and suffocate from the thick mud, but it wouldn't have been as satisfying.
So he had reached into his pocket and pulled out one of Clove's knives. One of the ones he watched her sharpen the night before. And then he stabbed and cut until his own hands stained red and he screamed out his rage.
He looked down at his hands at that moment and groaned. Thresh's skin follicles were probably embedded under his stubby nails, foreign blood was probably seeping through his own skin.
At least he had managed to snatch his '2' bag back, and it held a thin, jumpsuit-type armor. He had gone into another bout of hysterics when he found an identical pair, no doubt for Clove. He had worn his own quickly, that more determined to find the famous Fire Girl and her Lover. He had left the other bodysuit on top of Thresh's body, not wanting any of the other tributes to get a hold of it.
His head lolled side to side. Thresh still had beaten him pretty badly, if it weren't for Cato's professional training he received since he was young, he'd probably be dead too. He felt a burn at his eye and a throb on his head. There was blood dripping down his face and he laughed crazily at the thought of Clove patting him on the back. Soon his laughter ceased and he was grinning dopily.
Only two more and it'd be over. The girl from 5 had died a few hours prior, he was guessing from the couple from 12.
Wouldn't Clove be proud?
"Proud of me, Clove?" Cato called out his thoughts, a crazed smile on his face.
"I tore him apart, just for you," he laughed, legs sprawled out carelessly.
You did well.
He could hear it, her voice.
Maybe he really was going insane.
"Thanks," he grinned, swinging a knife back and forth and humming something off the top of his head.
I'll see you in the future, Cato.
"What's that 'posed to mean." He called out in the arena, foot swaying along with his head.
You said it yourself, Cato, that night. I'll see you in the future… And maybe under different circumstances.
"What?" Cato released a high-pitched chuckle, but his hand paused in its swinging when he heard rustling. He jumped up and looked around the cornucopia to spot the 'Star-Crossed Lovers' running full speed towards him, and behind them… Mutts? Wolves? Fuck, they were muttations.
He effortlessly pushed up and climbed on top of the cornucopia, watching as the pair scrabbled for grip, helping each other climb. One of the mutants nearly bit off Loverboy's leg, but they climbed without any scratches.
That is, until Cato shoved into them. They all fell with an 'oompf', each one of them reaching for grip, or a weapon, or a person's neck, a leg, an arm, a handful of hair. Cato managed to grab onto the Fire girl's neck, forcing her over a ledge and grinning as the mutants jumped for a bite.
She choked against him and her eyes rolled back into her head.
That's what you get for killing Clove.
Just as she almost lost breath completely, he felt a hand on his back and he was pulled off of her and thrown on the other side.
Lover boy had strength, he forgot that.
Wrestling ensued, and Cato finally managed a chokehold type headlock on the boy, when he was faced with Katniss and her famous bow and arrow. It was pointed directly at his head.
"You kill me, and we're both dead." He spat out, eyes wide and a scoff on his lips.
"I'm dead already!" his voice cracked as a small smile curved on his lips. He tightened his grip around the neck when Katniss raised her bow once more.
"Oh, I can still do this." He countered, his hand reaching for the opposite side of the head in his arms. It was the first trick he learned at the center. How to correctly twist a neck and hear that sickening crack.
The sickening crack that he had thought of as the sound of success.
One more kill, one less sigh of embarrassment in District 2. All the civilians from his District with hope for another kill. One less day of mourning over their loss in the games, not their loss in him. He was just a pawn after all. But it was about time that he was going to be knocked off board.
He watched the conflict flicker in Katniss's eyes, and just as he was about to leave with one last kill, he felt an arrow lodge into his hand and he yelled in pain when Peeta turned and wrestled him off the Cornucopia.
And then he was falling.
Unbelieveable pain.
Screams of terror, and it was much different when the screams were coming from him, not his prey.
Clove.
Her death must've been less painful, surely. She didn't deserve a death like this. He believed neither of them did.
But who was he kidding? They both deserved the worst kind of death possible.
They were killing machines after all. Born and bred to kill. Trained to murder. How to snap a neck, how to shoot straight, how to stab at the right artery, vein, the right organ.
Yet somehow, he didn't lose all hope. Because he knew after all this pain passes, after he stops breathing completely and there's no more of him to be torn apart. There's always the future. Maybe he wouldn't survive to live out this future. But Clove had promised something, hadn't she?
Then he felt something lodge straight at his chest, and he blacked out.
I'll see you in the future, Clove.
A pen tapped against a wooden table in a steady beat. Deep brown eyes roamed the pages retelling stories of history, terrifying history. Written in the pages were true stories of death and murder, corrupted politics and more death. She released her pen and let it fall on the textbook. Her hand reached upwards to tuck a brown lock of hair behind her ear, and then downwards to reach for her coffee.
She lifted the mug to her lips, and frowned when she realized it was empty. She groaned quietly, pushing her textbook away and looking up at the register a few feet away.
She came here every day after school; surely the barista would give her a break and would give her a free mocha. Half of their profits probably came from her anyway, although she was barely hanging on with her part-time job, being a full-time student at the college a few blocks away. But her hand reached behind her chair, gripping a small satchel tightly. She tugged it onto her lap and snapped it open, reaching for her wallet to see if she had money from her first mug of coffee.
Bare.
Her mouth dropped open, she snapped the wallet shut in anger and shoved it back in her purse. She grumbled to herself in annoyance and rubbed at her temples.
She was not having a good day. Her fingers tapped a rhythm on the edge of the table, swiftly moving up and down the surface in some secret beat no one could quite decode; her mom had always told her she was skilled with her hands.
"Excuse me?" A timid voice interrupted her concentration, and she quirked an eyebrow at the mousey girl standing front of her. A small tray was gripped in her hands with a steaming mug of something that looked a lot like heaven.
"This is for you," she grinned tentatively, setting the mug down in front of her textbook, and pushing it slightly forward.
Her eyes widened in gratefulness, immediately taking a sip of the peppermint mocha. She wiped at the traces of whipped cream on her lips and stared at the barista.
"Um, thanks, but do I have to pay for this?" she chuckled nervously. If she had known she had to pay, she wouldn't have taken a sip.
"The guy sitting in the corner ordered it for you," she shrugged, before pointing behind her head at the corner hidden behind a thin curtain. The barista walked away with a smile, nodding when she was thanked again.
She squinted across the coffee shop, she could make out a pair of muscular legs folded lazily. But the rest of the guy was hidden.
She glanced down at the drink.
Well, she couldn't not say thanks.
She closed her textbook after sticking in a bookmark, and then rummaging her things together and walking towards the corner. With each step she took, she could make out more of the guy, broad shoulders, a chiseled chin, blue eyes, blonde hair.
He was looking outside the window, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Thanks for the coffee." She said aloud. He jumped slightly before he turned towards her and looked at her for a moment.
He smiles and she smiles back.
"My name's Cato."
"Clove."
A/N: Sooo, interpret that however you'd like. Reviews?
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