A/N: Yes I know, yet another fic even though I haven't finished a single one yet, I'll get to it eventually lads. My Hunger Games obsession has returned with a vengeance, and I am loving the Catoniss pairing. Enjoy.

Cato POV:

I wake up at 6am on the day of the Reaping, a sense of dread settling deep in my gut. The training centre chose me to volunteer today, and unless I wanted my family to face their untimely and purely accidental deaths, I have no other choice. I really don't want to go into that arena and act like it's some kind of honour to slaughter these innocent kids and destroy their families, but I cannot be the reason that my own family dies.

The Reaping

I look around at the hundreds of kids around me, waiting for our escort to reach her brightly coloured talons into the bowls of names, only for the name called out to be replaced by a menacing volunteer, brainwashed into thinking that murder is a sport and the Games are an honour. My stomach churns. I don't even hear the name that Venecia, our escort, begins to call, before I shoot my hand in the air, "I volunteer as tribute!", and with a confidence that I don't feel, I stroll onto the stage and take my place next to the makeup coated bauble. I tune out the rest of the ceremony, some girl, Clove, who I vaguely recognise from the training centre, holds her hand out to shake mine. I grasp her hand firmly, before we are marched into the justice building.

My family comes in to say goodbye to me, my little brother Alexei and my sister Holly cling to my legs as I shake the hand of my father and whisper a few words of comfort to my mother. The twins are only 6, I hate to think about how this is going to affect them, they are about to watch me parade through the Capitol dressed in some ridiculous garb, then slaughter a bunch of kids on live television. I can't bare to look at them, their sweet innocent faces...

Conversation flows between Brutus and Enobaria, with Clove occasionally making a comment. I take no notice of them, and turn to the recaps of the reapings across Panem. I take note of the large boy from 11, he could be a threat, and I feel sick when the little girl is called to take her place beside him. Rue. She barely looks old enough to even be reaped. The screen switches to the District 12 reaping, and I see another girl, thin and young, with fear flashing through her eyes as her name is called. Primrose. This isn't fair. But then I hear someone screaming the girl's name, and the camera pans to peacekeepers holding back a petite but muscular girl with anger burning in her eyes. I hear her scream the words "I volunteer!" and I know that I don't stand a chance in these games.

Katniss POV:

"And may the odds be ever in your favour!" I chuckle while Gale lobs a fresh blackberry towards my mouth. 42 times his name is in, 20 times for me. I just feel, deep in my gut, that something is going to go awfully wrong today.

The Reaping

"Primrose Everdeen!" I feel the world crumbling around me as I stand there, surrounded by the other 16 year old girls from my district. There is a collective gasp throughout the crowd, everybody knows and loves Prim, she's the one that helps my mother heal the district, who makes the delicious little parcels of goat cheese, the one who's kindness simply just puts smiles on the faces of the poor and sick. I can hear myself screaming her name, and vaguely feel peacekeepers holding me back. Clarity suddenly hits me as I cry out two words, "I volunteer!", then again, "I volunteer as tribute!" just in case they didn't hear me. There is a deathly silence that spreads across the crowd as I step towards the stage with my head held high, and I absently register Gale picking up Prim and carrying her over to my mother.

"And what is your name, my dear?" Effie Trinket asks me, "Katniss Everdeen."

"Well, Katniss, I'll bet my hat that was your sister, wasn't it?", "yes." I can feel my lips wobbling slightly as I realise that I've condemned my family and few friends to watching my die on national television. At least a quarter of this district is going to starve without me bringing in game and trade to the Hob. The crowd is silent as our escort calls for applause, for the first ever District 12 volunteer, one by one I watch my entire district press three fingers to their lips and raise them in the air. It means goodbye. To someone you love. A tradition that is rarely seen, except for funerals, and I am so overcome by a whirlpool of emotions that I barely even notice when the name Peeta Mellark is called. Suddenly I'm back under that tree...

"Get away! Stay out of our bins you dirty Seam rat!" It's the baker's wife. I drop the threadbare baby clothes I'm holding into a puddle as I stumble away. They were useless anyway, nobody wanted them. I collapse against a tree, silently resigning myself to die there. I can't go back home to Prim, with those wide, sad eyes, hunger pains flashing through her body.

"Burned! You useless boy! GO, FEED THEM TO THE PIGS, IT'S ALL THEY'RE GOOD FOR NOW!" The yelling of the baker's wife fills my ears again, and I painfully raise my head to see her smack the youngest Mellark boy, Peeta, with a rolling pin. The door opens, and slams shut after Peeta steps outside. He glances my way and then tosses the loaves towards me before running back into the bakery...

I meet his eyes as Effie tells us to shake hands, and I can tell he is remembering that day too. I owe this boy my life, I can't watch him die.

The visits from my family blur by, I hear myself telling my mom not to shut down again, promising Prim that I'll do my best to win, shouting to Gale not to let my family starve. Madge gives me a golden pin. A mockingjay. Then she grasps my hands in hers before leaving with tears in her eyes. Even Peeta's father brings me cookies from the bakery; they have little chips of chocolate in them, and I know this small bag would have cost me at least four squirrels.

Before I know it, I'm being led onto a train full of plush carpets, expensive furniture and enough food to keep the entire Seam fed for a week. It makes me sick to my stomach. I look over at Peeta and see my own disgust reflected in his eyes. Haymitch Abernathy, winner of the 50th Hunger Games, stumbles into the compartment and looks the pair up and down before nodding slightly in approval.

"Seems 12 might have a chance this year." He must recognise me from the Hob, I see him there sometimes, knocking back white liquor and stewing in his own misery. Peeta clears his throat before asking, "any advice then?". At this, Haymitch chuckles darkly, "Yeah, here's some advice kid, stay alive."

A/N: I'm setting the scene at the moment, so don't worry that there hasn't been any interaction between Katniss and Cato yet, it's on its way.