The train ride to the Games is a quiet one, but I can't complain. That's just the way I like it. Though, unlike the ride back from my own Games, I don't hide away in my room and I make sure to take up space in the main compartment—let the others hide this time if they don't want to be around me. Lyme has come with us to be the female tribute's mentor. Usually, I'd be shadowing to take over the next year, but since I refuse to participate in the Academy, it's likely I'll only ever be a mentor for appearance's sake only. That is perhaps a good thing, because the female tribute is someone I happened to not get along with in the Academy. I claim a prime spot at one of the window tables and throw my feet up on the table, flipping through a Capitol magazine to pass the time. Sometime into my reading, I feel someone's eyes on me.

I try to push past the feeling and ignore it, hoping the presence will go away—"Have you always been intimidating or is that a new thing that I'm just now noticing?" says Percy our male tribute who just so happened to be one of my friends from the Academy. Not that there's any surprise with that; the Academy sends two children each year without fail. I can't remember the last time a 'normal' kid slipped through the cracks and was sent to the Games. We're the same age, he's a few months younger than me and would be turning 19 by the end of the year. But more importantly, I haven't seen him since the day I went to clear things out of my locker at the Academy. Or any of my other friends from the Academy for that matter.

I lower the magazine to get a look at him and realize he's looking at the picture of me on the front cover. "Very funny," I say sarcastically as I go to return to reading.

A few beats of silence pass before he speaks up again. "We've missed you down at the Academy you know," he states simply. "Knife-throwing class just isn't the same without you being ready to give out impromptu haircuts."

This time, I set the magazine down in my lap more forcefully but try to maintain a sense of calm in my voice. "That's very nice of you."

"Why'd you leave?" he asks, his voice both sincere and a bit forceful at the same time.

"You wouldn't understand," I say dismissively. It may come off as rude, but it's inherently true. He won't get it.

But he wastes no time with the retort as he sits forward in his seat. "You're right. I don't understand. But that's why I'm asking, Octavia. Why'd you do it?"

I take a hostile breath and avert my gaze to the window. I don't have anything to say. Or maybe I don't know what to say.

"You know, Gareth called you ungrateful and unappreciative. And I defended you. I said that you always have a reason for the things you do. You're smart. You're always one step ahead of the count. So explain it to me. Explain why my friend disappeared after she won the crown. You haven't talked to any of us since you got back. Please tell me you have a good reason."

"Percy, it's not like that. Things are...complicated."

Percy scoffs. "That's what Brutus said when we asked him too. You won the Games. You're a victor now. And you don't come back to help us? I know—I knew you. The Academy was your life, all of our lives, and you just pack up and leave like it's nothing? Like it means nothing?"

What am I supposed to say to him? If you survive the next few weeks of your life, you will be permanently traumatized. You won't be the same person, so you might as well have not survived at all. Killing other children isn't all it's cracked up to be, Percy. And if I told him that, it would only worsen his chances of winning because he would be in the middle of having a life crisis in an arena of death. I feel a lie surface, a plausible, more like a half-truth type lie, and pluck it from my thoughts. "I'm taking care of my grandmother. She's sick."

I feel mildly guilty, but the momentum Percy was building comes to a screeching halt. Thank goodness. "Oh. You couldn't have told—" he stops himself mid-sentence before apologizing. "I'm sorry. See. I knew you must have a good reason," he says happily, and the guilt starts back up again. But it's better this way. He's already on his way to the Games. The time for saving him is long passed.

The tenseness of the moment passes and Percy moves on to lighten the mood. "Is the whole dress-up thing mandatory after you win or...?" he says, pointing to the photo of me on the magazine. I roll the magazine and raise it to pretend to throw it at him. "Okay, okay, outfits non-negotiable," he laughs. I shake my head and return to reading my magazine.

I become enveloped in a tablet of gossip magazines as I snack on a stack of macarons until I notice a rather large body enter the room. I brace myself for him to make a comment about what I've eaten but instead he simply sits across from me and grabs one for himself. Despite not being on the best of terms, old habits within me die hard. "I'm sorry, I can't believe my eyes. Did the Brutus just have dessert?"

"Maybe. When I'm not being your trainer, you'll find I'm a lot more pleasant," he says.

I can see where he's going with this. "Brutus..."

"No, nope. Let's not talk about the Academy right now. You're here, you're on the train, and you have to be a Mentor. Listen, I know you aren't a fan of Magenta—I pay attention to all your schoolyard drama—so why don't you shadow me instead of Lyme?" The offer is tempting. Getting away from Magenta and instead getting to work with Percy would be much less of a headache. But it's a slippery slope back down the road to familiarity. "Or you and Lyme can take Perseus. It doesn't matter to me. I trained both of them."

"I'll think about it."

As our train nears the Capitol, everyone wanders out of their compartments and into the main seating area. It's bustling with victors and our escort Fallon is running around trying to coordinate things between us.

"Are we in the right place?" I hear Percy's voice interrupt. He and Magenta stand in the doorway.

"Yes of course we're in the right place, meathead," whispers Magenta harshly.

"Nice to see that the quitter is back," she says bitterly as she holds her hand out for me to shake. "In case you forgot while you were off on your little vacation, Magenta Grant. Future winner of the 69th Annual Hunger Games."

I don't return the empty handshake and instead shove my hands into my pocket for good measure. "Don't get ahead of yourself, kid. We aren't even in the Capitol yet."

"Oh, please. Drop it with the whole 'kid' act," she scoffs. "I'm older than you by a month."

My jaw tenses and I narrow my eyes. "Brutus, Lyme, can we talk for a second?"

It doesn't take long for me to accept the deal Brutus made before, allowing Lyme and I to take Percy instead of Magenta. I can see a bit of hurt on Brutus' face for not accepting the offer to shadow under him, but it's better this way. I need my distance from him.

Brutus walks over to announce to the tributes our plan—trying to make it sound as if it was his idea to kindly take the heat off of me. I can't hear what they're saying but the constant smug look on Magenta's face is infuriating.

I lean over to Lyme and say under my breath, "I can't believe she called herself the 'Future Winner'."

"You also introduced yourself like that... To Caesar... During your interview..." says Lyme.

"Yeah, but I was endearing when I did it...right?" The only reply I get is a clap on the shoulder as she walks away. "Right?" I ask again, this time weaker.

I see an amused smirk cross her face. "Slightly."

Eventually, Brutus takes Magenta off into another cabin, leaving Lyme and I to talk to Percy. "Bet you didn't miss her," he says sarcastically.

Lyme and I get down to talking strategy with Percy since we're about a half-hour away from our destination and she takes the lead. "So, Perseus, obviously the both of us know you very well, but give us a self-assessment. What are your strengths? Weaknesses?"

"Well, my biggest strength is sword fighting. I was in the accelerated program for it, I've trained with you a few times," he says, pointing to me. "And then I'm good with hand-to-hand stuff. I'm bigger than most, I know how to throw my weight around. Weakness has to be talking skills. Hands down."

"You seem to be doing fine now," I point out.

"Yeah, well, that's because it's you, I'm comfortable with you," he laughs nervously.

A look crosses Lyme's face that I can't quite place before we continue our conversation. Brutus and Magenta return to the main compartment a few minutes before we pull into the station. I'm staring out the window when Percy comes up beside me. He must have grown in the past year, because I don't remember him being so tall.

"They all look ridiculous don't they," he chuckles, referencing the sea of ridiculous Capitol outfits waiting for us in the station.

"They do, but as far as you're concerned, they look great. Are we clear?" I say sternly.

"Crystal."

I step out of the train to the sound of the crowd chanting my name and reporters leaning over the barrier with their arms and microphones extended in my direction. It feels eerily similar to when I last left the Capitol. I decide to make my way towards them, to see if I could start campaigning for Percy. He's not allowed to speak to anyone at this point, but mentors are always fair game. As soon as I reach the barrier reporters are shouting questions all at the same time.

"What do you think of your tributes?" shouts one with blue hair.

"Do you think District 2 has a shot at winning again this year?" asks another with whiskers and orange hair.

I decide to choose my words very carefully. "I think District 2 has as much of a chance winning as it did last year." With that, I walk away from the now buzzing reporters leaving them to stew over my words. And maybe, just maybe, it can help bring home an old friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as we get to floor 2 of the Tribute Tower we turn on the television and start to watch the Reaping over dinner. It's one of the advantages of being one of the first districts to arrive. I can't help but make an inventory in my own head. One looks strong like usual. Four looks to be on the weaker side.

A girl from one of the outer districts even starts to bawl once she gets up to the stage. I can't help but feel bad for her. She doesn't want this. She doesn't want to die. Yet, I see several smirks across the table, even coming from Percy, and their eyes look like they're sizing up their next meal.

With the overwhelming discomfort, I throw my white napkin on the table. "Well, I'm going to go."

"Where're you going?" asks Lyme. I can see the same look of questioning on Percy's face, but he's too polite to voice it.

"I have a meeting," I reply. I know it's not entirely true, but it's true enough. I plan to head down to the lobby to wait for Finnick to arrive as he had mentioned in my letter.

I get a side-eye from Lyme for a moment, but she instead says, "Ah. Yes. You mentioned that before, right. I forgot."

I give her a nod of thanks before throwing on a jacket and heading down to the lobby.

I wait an embarrassingly long time for District 4 to arrive, but to be honest, it's better than being on floor 2. Sure, enough sometime around midnight, the flashes of the cameras and the shouting picks up as the familiar, tall blonde figure walks in the rotating doors.

As soon as Finnick spots me, he jogs away from his group towards me. "You showed up!" he says excitedly.

"Yes, well, if I stayed on floor 2 I would have stabbed my eye out with the silverware," I say with perhaps too much candour in my words due to my tiredness.

Luckily, Finnick lets out a laugh that I know is genuine since it comes out as more of a goofy chortle. "That makes two of us." Mags and the group of tributes finally catch up with us and Finnick turns back to speak with her. "Hey Mags, if we take off can you take it from here?"

"They're all going straight to bed so I think I can handle it," says Mags. She gives me a small wave and smile. "Nice to see you, dear. You two have fun."

Mags and the tributes from 4 file into the elevator, leaving Finnick and I in the lobby. "So...what are we going to do?" I ask.

"Well, we can't leave the premises, but I happen to know a good spot," he says, a hint of mischief in his voice.

I give him the side-eye. "I don't like the way you said that," I joke. He leads me towards the elevator and once we're inside he presses the 'Rooftop' button, and we start to smoothly rise towards the top of the building. "What are you gonna do? Push me off the roof? There are nicer ways to tell me that you don't like me."

"You're really morbid, aren't you," he sasses back.

The elevator doors open with a ding and we both empty out onto the roof. The view is breathtaking. You can see the entirety of the Capitol skyline; all the beautiful twinkling lights and the giant glowing billboards a distance away in the main square. I know now why Finnick likes it up here. It also happens that there's a beautiful garden up here, but it's hard to see it all in the dark.

"It's beautiful here," I breathe.

"Glad you think so."

I walk towards the edge of the building and against my better judgement look down to the bottom of the street. My eyes involuntarily widen. It's a long way down.

"Don't worry," Finnick says slightly chucking. "There's a force field that'll rebound you back up even if you were to fall."

We settle in on a bench near one of the edges of the roof, looking down on the bright city. We sit there in a comfortable silence for a few moments, a small summer breeze running through my hair. We're literally sitting on what feels like the top of the world. The Tribute Tower is the tallest building in the Capitol so we can see over every other building. The people down below look like tiny dots. "...they don't look as scary from up here," I find myself voicing aloud. "The Capitolians, I mean."

"You're...scared of them?" says Finnick with a tone in his voice that I can't quite place.

"I'm not scared of many things, but the things they make us do..." my face contorts with anger as I become more and more agitated. "They stick us in an arena to die. They stick us in an arena and while we suffer, while we die, they sit at home on their couches. And they cheer, and they laugh, and they bet. So yes, I am very scared of them."

I look over to Finnick for the first time since getting a little too passionate in my rant and see his eyes brimming with tears. He gives a small laugh to try and cover for the tears. "You know, you'd be surprised how many victors these days refuse to see that. See what they really are."

I know the question I'm about to ask is highly invasive, but it feels like the right thing to do. "Finnick. Do—do you still get nightmares too?"

He turns to look at me seriously. "All the time. Usually gets worse around this time of year though."

I nod, having experienced the same as him; they've gotten worse in the past few weeks, but Gran's memory has been slipping away too quickly for me to feel like I can talk to her about it. "Any advice?" I ask hopefully.

"Now that's the million-dollar question. If I ever figure it out, I'll let you know."

Our conversation goes through another few minutes of silence as we try to people-watch the blobs down below. Eventually I speak up again. "I know both of the tributes we came here with. We all trained at the Academy together. One of them used to be one of my friends."

"I didn't realize you had friends."

I narrow my eyes with faux disapproval, knowing he's only joking. "Well, I might have one, but I'm not sure if I appreciate his constant sass," I say as I hit his shoulder with mine.

"Oh, come on, you find it endearing."

That reminds me. "Speaking of endearing..." I say thinking back to my conversation with Lyme earlier today. Or rather, technically yesterday.

Finnick and I spend quite a long time on the roof just chatting and flitting from topic to topic. As we both grow more tired we descend into giggles more frequently, and I find myself frequently ending up in stitches. At the Academy, you'd be hard-pressed to find someone so easygoing. Maybe it's the style of life they have back in 4, but I wish I was born there instead of here.

He tells me stories of the ocean and the hijinks he and Mags get up to back home while I tell him all about Gran and I's exploits in 2.

A few hours must pass because the moon no longer hangs high in the sky. I realize I'm going to have to go to sleep soon, otherwise I'm going to fall asleep right on the roof.

My tired legs take me into the elevator and hold it for Finnick, but he stays waiting outside the door.

"C'mon. We're both going down, we can use the same elevator," I say mockingly.

"I just don't want anyone to get the wrong idea if they see us in the elevator together this late at night. I have a reputation of uh...." he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Finnick, oh please. There's no one up at this hour."

"Maybe not in this building. But in the ones watching the cameras there are," he says seriously.

Apparently, I'm too wrapped up in what he's just said to notice that he pushed the close button in the elevator, and the doors are slowly and dramatically closing with him on the other side.

I descend down the levels back to floor 2 where I try and tiptoe back in the door like I imagine the teens who didn't have to go to the Academy did when they went out to parties. I close the door quietly behind me and take my shoes off at the door to continue the rest of the way to my new room in the apartment that still smells like paint.

But I don't get all the way there, because I hear movement near the couches of the apartment and jump out of my skin when I see that there's a figure sitting on the couch. Adrenaline courses through my veins and impairs my vision from allowing me to place the dark-haired figure.

"When did you become a night owl?" Percy asks.

"Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me," I say, holding my hand up to my racing heart. "What are you doing still up? It's like, three in the morning. You should be asleep!"

"I couldn't," he replies simply.

"Nerves?"

He nods. "Somehow watching home videos with Brutus and Magenta somehow wasn't helping me," he says sarcastically. "I've been thinking of my dilemma, the speaking one, I feel like I need an angle."

I let out a yawn. "Now? My brain isn't working."

"Maybe it will help me sleep," he says, trying to guilt me into getting the wheels in my brain turning.

I wrack my brain for something so I can satisfy him and finally get some rest. "Fine...when I think of you I think of...charming and mysterious."

"Wait, wait, wait," he says with an amused grin. "You think I'm, charming?" he says, posing slightly.

I scoff. "Don't let it go to your head. I put mysterious in there because you literally have been sitting in the dark for who knows how long."

"Touché," he says, nodding his head.

I make my way to my new bedroom that night—the one that I've hardly bothered moving into. The next day comes and goes as we wait on the arrival of 11 and 12, who take three days via the train to arrive. Finnick and I meet on the roof once again, this time choosing to stargaze although we didn't realize how much the lights of the city would wash out the gleam of the stars.

Eventually, the day of the parade arrives and I wake up at a firm one in the afternoon. I realize this must mean that I'm late for helping to take the tributes down to the re-make centre to get ready, so I quickly get out of bed and throw on something in my closet that I find without a "2" label on it. I practically dash out my door and see that everyone else is having lunch already.

"Morning princess," says Brutus, clearly amused that I've messed up and slept in.

"Hm, funny," I reply dryly, scrunching my nose in distaste. I sit down at the table and scarf down my food to catch up with everyone else.

Lyme, Brutus, and I are tasked with bringing Magenta and Percy to the re-make centre through the long and slightly muggy underground tunnel that connects the start of the parade area with the Tribute Tower. Our group arrival is more of an intimidation tactic than anything; any one of us could have delivered the tributes, but it always strikes fear in the outer District's hearts when the much larger Careers walk up with their even more threatening mentors. I can't imagine what it would be like to walk up and see Brutus for the first time or see Lyme—one of the more famous winners from the last generation. Or even me, the most recent winner. A pang of guilt hits my heart like a dagger when I realize how I've let my mind wander back into the Career mentality, but I push it away. Now is not the time for me to have a moral panic.

We arrive to see Haymitch stumbling around, somehow already drunk. Having dealt with my father for so many years, I break off from the group to go and intercept the Haymitch that seems to be heading right for us. He points a shaky hand past me to the group of victors I've just arrived with. "You bastards. Always walking around like you own the place. You win every year. Can you just let the kids get their little makeovers in peace? Can you at least do that?"

Haymitch's voice starts to grow a bit louder, drawing stares from the beauty teams, tributes, and mentors alike. "Huh? Can you let them die in peace?"

I gently grab onto his shoulders and force his attention onto me. "Haymitch," I say, my voice low and even. "Now is not the time nor the place." He goes to leave but my grip tightens on his shoulders. "I agree with you. But you'll only make them worse."

Even drunk, it doesn't take much for Haymitch to realize who the 'them' is. He looks over my shoulder staring at the group from 2, perhaps even to size them up, and then turns back to me with a nod.

The issue now resolved, I make the move to walk away but this time Haymitch is the one to stop me. He catches me on the wrist which—much to my dismay—causes me to flinch slightly. Being in this place again has more than triggered my fight-or-flight response. Though to be honest, I'm not sure if they ever truly went away. Getting startled every time someone walks into the room, even if you see them or hear them coming isn't something I'd recommend.

"I'm sorry about what your dad did last year during your party."

I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to say to something like that, but I quickly thank him and slink away, grateful that 'dad dearest' himself was left at home this year.

Many hours and likely many plucked and waxed hairs later, Brutus and I go to meet our tributes at the parade launch area. The bright lights and the cheers that echo through bring me back to one year ago. I constantly try to tell myself that I'm not there anymore; trying to list the things that I can see in the area that are different than last year.

New lighting. All-black chariots instead of gold. White horses.

To bide the time, I decide to walk up and pet the horse as a distraction for the past that keeps attempting to take over my reality. Its large brown eyes stare into mine as we come to a mutual understanding of sorts. In our own ways, we've both been corralled here. Forced to play a part in these Games even if we aren't the focus.

"Made friends with the horses I see," Finnick says from behind me.

I turn around to greet him but quickly spot a pile of sugar cubes in his hands which gives me pause. "You might want to slow down on those."

He drops his head in laughter. "They're not for me. They are for the horses." He gently grabs my hand and opens it, plopping a sugar cube into it. "You've already made friends with him, but I think he'll like you even better if you feed him," he says, nodding his head towards the horse I'd just been petting.

I look over to the horse unsure of how exactly to give him the tiny cube. But Finnick directs me and my arm, "Here." He corrects my hand so it's completely flat and guides my arm up towards the horse's mouth. "Let him sniff it, and then when he's ready, he'll take it."

Sure enough, and just as Finnick says, the horse sniffs the cube and moves his mouth down to take the sugar off my palm. For such a big creature, I'm surprised how gentle it is, as if it knows how delicate and breakable we humans are.

I find great amusement in feeding the horse perhaps too many sugar cubes but Finnick and I develop a system of him continually passing them to then pass on to my horse. If anything, it's extremely effective of passing the time and holding my focus, because before I know it, the tributes start to walk out in their costumes.

Finnick says goodbye and goes off to join Mags by their chariot, telling me that he'll see me later tonight at our usual spot on the roof. Two figures dressed in what looks like red, gold-trimmed bedsheets and green laurel wreaths around their heads make their way towards Brutus and I.

"You look great!" I say, mostly directing the comment at Percy and not Magenta even though anyone with eyes can see that the outfits are atrocious. But the Capitolians, they'll eat it up.

"Thanks," he says, smoothing down the edges of the draping outfit, clearly still not sure about his choice of outfit.

"It's fine," I say, moving towards him so only he can hear, "They love this sort of stuff."

"They have a strange taste in clothing that's for sure," he chuckles.

"You're going to do great," I say. "Just remember to smile and wave. Oh, and try to make it look like this is all a waste of your time, like you have something better to be doing."

"I actually have something better to be doing. Training."

"Then show it," I say as I adjust the collar of his shirt of out of instinct. The way the stylists have it all bunched up around his neck makes him look like he's buried under a pile of cloth.

"What did, uh, what did Finnick want? I didn't realize you were friends," he says, trying to make casual conversation as I try and make the outfit sit right on his shoulders.

"Uh, yeah. I guess we are."

"I can see why you ditched us now." I sense the slight tinge of bitterness and my eyes flick up to meet his. "Sorry," he apologizes quickly.

I quickly finish the adjustment, not wanting to linger in this moment any longer and give him a pat on the shoulder, letting him know he's good to go. He walks away to mount the chariot and I am left there surrounded by my thoughts of the past. The crowd getting louder outside makes it entirely worse and my emotions recall me like a vision to last year, an unshakeable reminder of the beginning of the end for my past self. The day the Octavia Jones he knew, well and truly died.

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Next chapter up! How's everyone liking this version so far? 

Also please let me know if you have any suggestions for chapterly memes (my regulars will know what's up) and I can add them in here retrospectively.