A/N: This is in Clove's POV, it picks up the day of the tribute parade.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, though I wish I did.

"What's going on with you?"

Clove sneered, "As if that matters."

Cato puts his hand on her shoulder, staring at her face, "I'm worried about you. Ever since last night you've been different."

"Don't touch me," She snapped, slapping his hand away from her.

"See? You've never done that."

"I don't need you to look after me, Cato!" Clove shouts at him, her patience thinning each second she spent talking to him.

"I'm still going to anyways."

"Hangout with someone who actually wants you around. I heard that Glimmer missed you." Clove said scathingly.

Cato frowns, actually looking hurt at the remark, "Really? You went that low?"

"Do you want me to continue?"

Cato runs his hand through his hair, breathing an exasperated sigh, "Okay, I won't ask you about this anymore. Just get your temper in check for the parade."

"Fine, but if you talk to me at all during the parade I'll push you off the chariot."

"I doubt you could," He said.

Clove's eyes flash, "Do you want to test that?"

Cato rolls his eyes, turning away from her and walking away, "Try not to kill your stylist," He calls back over his shoulder.

Clove grabs the closest thing to her, which happens to be a pillow, and throws it at the back of Cato's head. He laughs as it hits him, but he doesn't stop and just continues into the elevator. Leaving Clove alone on the floor.

"Asshole," She mutters when the elevator doors shut.

Clove brings her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she does so. She sat like that for awhile, her head resting against her knees. The floor was still and quiet, which led her to think back to last night, with Katniss. It had felt natural talking to her. She was able to let her guard down, not a lot, but still more than she usually did. She had actually enjoyed spending time with her. Clove groans, covering her face with her hands.

"What are you doing to me?" She whispers.

"What is who doing to you?"

Clove turns around, instantly on high alert. Unfortunately, she turned around too fast and falls off the couch. After she hits the ground the sound of laughter fills the room. She scrambled to get up, her hands curled into fists.

"What the fuck?"

Enobaria rolls her eyes, instead of addressing Clove she swings herself over the back of the couch, settling herself into the spot Clove left.

Clove glowers at her, "What was that?"

"Would you lose it if I said that I did it for fun?"

"Possibly," Clove said, her voice dangerously low.

"Then I did it to test your reflexes," Enobaria tilts her head, tapping her finger against her chin, "Care to elaborate on what you were talking about when I walked in?"

"No."

Enobaria narrows her eyes, "Clove."

"It was nothing, alright? Why do you need to be nosy?" Clove said, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Enobaria would take her word for it and stop pestering her.

For a moment Clove believes her mentor may have bought the lie, until she gets up from the couch and stands directly in front of her. Clove stares down at her feet, unwilling to meet Enobaria's stare. Her heart races in her chest and she's positive that Enobaria hears it. Clove hesitantly looks up, but shrinks away when she meets her mentors stern gaze.

"I won't ask about this anymore," Enobaria finally says, "But I do expect an explanation at some point."

"Of course."

Enobaria nods, "Good."

Clove takes that as her cue to leave. She walks away from Enobaria, letting out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding.

"Oh, Clove?"

Clove glances back, wondering what her mentor could want now, "Yes?"

"Keep your eyes on being crowned victor, I'd hate for you to throw that away."

"I won't."

Clove steps into the elevator, feeling Enobaria's stare watch her all the way. She presses the button for the bottom floor, not even aware of what's happening. The only thing she can think about is Enobaria's words.

"She can't know. There's no way," Clove mutters aloud.

She shakes her head, dismissing the thought. She had been careful when she left, made sure no one had known where she had been going. The elevator door opens, causing her to jump, but it's only the elevator reaching her floor. Clove takes a few steps out and is immediately attacked by her prep team and stylist. It takes all of her restraint to not punch one of them.

"Finally! Cato is already in his outfit."

"Of course he is," Clove said, unable to resist rolling her eyes as soon as the words leave her mouth.

"Hurry! The parade is about to start!" Her stylist grabs her arm and drags her away.

Clove scowls, forcing herself to not shove her stylist away as she's led into a room. Once she's in the room her stylist lets go of her and walks out.

"Put that on. Go to the chariot when you're done."

Clove bites her tongue to prevent a snide comment from coming out of her mouth. She looks down at the outfit, nearly choking when she sees it. It was golden armor, with a winged helmet to match.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Clove picks up the outfit and holds it in front of her, examining it, her disgust steadily turning into anger. She closes her eyes, willing herself to calm down and just put it on. When she opens her eyes again she wastes no time in getting herself into the costume before she changes her mind. Clove gives herself a moment to compose herself, then she walks out of the door and towards the chariot.

"Clove!"

"Hey," Clove stops and looks up at Cato, pleased to see he looks more ridiculous than her.

"What took you so long?" Cato asked.

"I…" Clove hesitates, unsure if she could tell Cato the truth, "I just had a talk with Enobaria."

Cato raises a brow, clearly unconvinced, "That must have been a long talk."

"It was just about the games and…" Clove trails off, catching herself before she reveals too much.

"And?" He prompts, nudging her as he does so.

"And nothing."

Cato appears to almost say something when both of the stylists reappear and push them up onto the chariot. Clove swears as she struggles to regain her balance. Cato reaches out to help her, but thinks better of it when she slaps him away.

"Get a grip," Cato hisses out of the corner of his mouth.

"Fuck you."

Clove hears a huff from Cato, but chooses to ignore him for the moment. She instead glances at the other chariots gathered, searching for a particular face. She locked gazes with a familiar pair of grey eyes for just a moment, then the chariot is pulling her out of view and into the city circle. The roar of the crowd is deafening and the lights are blinding. Clove blinks a few times, trying to adjust to everything around her. An elbow pokes her in the side and she snaps her attention to where Cato stands next to her.

"Wave. Be happy," Cato reminds her.

Clove rolls her eyes, half tempted to just ignore what he just said, but he does have a point. Any person in the crowd could be a sponsor. She raises her hand and waves to the crowd, the reaction is instantaneous. People scream out her name, trying to get her attention. Clove is unable to resist a grin, this was what she had been waiting for. No more wondering about her feelings or secretly spending time with another tribute, she was here for one thing only. There's gasps from the crowd, but they are chanting something new, their attention no longer on her. Clove spares a second to look behind her, her breath getting caught in her throat when she realizes why the Capitol citizens were not looking at her anymore.

It was unbelievable. She was unable to comprehend or make sense of what she was seeing. Katniss was on fire.