Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Summary: Clove knows one thing, and one thing only - Glimmer needs to back off. CatoClove, mentions of CatoGlimmer, oneshot

I couldn't help but notice how they kind of put Cato and Glimmer with a kind of…thing during the movie. And in my head-canon, that doesn't sit well with Clove. So, I've written this little piece. I don't have an issue with Glimmer, though it might come off like that in this fic, but it's from Clove's perspective and all. Anyway, I've just really been on a Cato kick as of late, so yeah. I hope that y'all enjoy this! Thanks for reading!

The Big Fall

Clove gets it, really she does.

Glimmer is gorgeous and tall and blonde, with legs for miles and a laugh that causes everyone to join in. She's a Career, too. Talented in weaponry - not so much with the bow, though - and she can hold her own in combat. Her teeth are perfect and straight and she has no problem getting every boy in the Games underneath her thumb.

What Clove doesn't get is that Cato wasn't an exception.

She knows that Cato can handle himself, she knows that Cato has no problem with dealing with girls who get to close, with girls that he doesn't deem worthy enough to be of his time. She knows that Cato can get rid of her any time he wants.

But why doesn't he get rid of her?

Clove realizes that they need the girl right now. Strength in numbers and all. But she just assumed that Cato wouldn't be so taken with her obliviousness. With her overt flirting and the fact that she fawns over him.

Then again, maybe that was why he likes her so much.

Cato is used to people singing his praises. They do it often enough. Everyone except Clove herself. Someone like Glimmer would be completely different than that, using compliments and flattery and femininity to wind Cato around her finger like a coil of barbed wire - because no amount of ridiculous flirting can take away his deadly edge.

Ugh, Clove thinks. The thought makes her sick, the fact that someone can so easily win Cato over when it took her years to do so.

She watches them, though. She's been pushed to the back of their little caravan alongside Marvel, with Peeta trailing along behind them, his breathing slightly labored and his head miles away - because he's thinking of the fire girl - and Clove almost wants to hit him for it.

Clove plays with her knives a bit more menacingly than she has to, stroking her scarred fingertips along the edge, pressing down on the skin but never cutting. Always alert. She has to be, despite the fact that she is a Career and this is what she was trained to do. She may be talented, but she won't be one of the arrogant, careless, idiotic Careers that get killed. She won't. She can't.

It is quiet, nothing but the sounds of their footfalls breaking the silence. That, and Glimmer's laughter. Clove's head snaps in the direction immediately, only to find that the blonde has leaned over onto Cato's arm, smiling coquettishly and stroking an arm along his bicep.

Clove grips the hilt of her knife a bit tighter.

She can't help but acknowledge the fact that this bothers her. She would love to be able to lie to herself and say that it doesn't, but it does. Clove has never been one for false words and lying for the sake of someone, so she doesn't even allow herself that pleasure.

"Something wrong?"

Clove starts and looks over at Marvel. He's looking at her strangely, his spear propped carelessly on his shoulder.

It was then she realizes that she had been snarling.

"Nothing," she snaps in reply, and starts to walk a bit faster.

The foliage underneath her feet crunches a bit more forcefully than anyone else would allow. She finds that she is more careless in her anger, which is completely ridiculous. She knows that there are countless dangers here, countless things that will kill her in a moments notice. And many other things, horrid and menacing, that the can come up with randomly.

She stomps on a branch to spite them.

Of course, no one is going to attack them like this. They have the numbers and the strength. The only one that poses even a slight threat to them is the monstrous boy from Eleven. And maybe the archer from Twelve. But she doesn't have her bow; Glimmer does.

And just like that, Clove's train of thought is deterred.

Glimmer, she thinks with a glower.

This is absurd, she knows. Thinking of someone with such jealousy, with such spite. She knows that she should be focusing on other things, things that are more pertinent and things that actually deserve her time.

"Oh, Cato," the girl in question croons.

Clove used to think that she was above all this petty jealousy. She used to think that being like that, acting like that, was stupid. Fruitless.

But here she is, denying every other thing she used to believe. Just because Glimmer is in Cato's good graces.

Cato, the name flutters across her mind, strange and prickling, like the finding of a favorite memory.

She locks her eyes on the strong, attractive back of her District partner. She watches as the slight breeze rustles his fair hair, watches as Glimmer laughs at something he says, watches as he adjusts the weapon attached to his belt. His slender, capable fingers linger on the hilt and a shiver goes down Clove's spine.

It really is amazing just how much she cares for him, how much she is reluctantly attracted to him.

Amazingly ludicrous.

She bites her bottom lip, tries to look away, but can't.

She watches as if from another place as Cato turns around and his icy blue eyes lock onto hers. She tenses, and he says, "Clove. Why are you so far back?"

His concern is striking. It is not until now that she realizes she was even further back than Peeta in their little attack formation.

She felt a strange kind of longing to be next to her partner bubble up inside her chest. Instead of vilifying it, she replied simply, "Someone competent has to take up the rear."

Cato smirks at that, and Clove feels a sense of victory.

"I'd rather have you up here," he says, motioning to her to the empty space beside him. She notices that he has dislodged his hand from its entanglement with Glimmer's, notices this just as much as she realizes that her heart has skipped in her chest.

Damn him, she thinks.

"Fine." Clove waves a hand and starts her march up toward the front of the group.

As she takes her place beside Cato - and wonders at how natural it feels - she doesn't even acknowledge the blonde girl. She stares straight ahead, constantly keeping her knives at the ready, just in case. She knows Glimmer is glaring at her though, and Clove can feel the resentment flowing off the girl from One.

Clove smirks to herself.

She knows that if it came down to the two of them, she'd win.

No doubt about it.

End.