"Rainbow Connections"

A/N: Back again. Enjoy the second half of the train rides!

~Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection

The lovers, the dreamers and me~

Vivian Ostera, 18, District One

Vivian was surprised to still be awake. The District One team had spent most of the day chatting, or more accurately, Troy had spent most of the day speaking to the rest of them. Not that she particularly minded. There wasn't anything that she wanted to open up about. She was just barely holding herself together, and now wasn't the time to let her insecurities and fears spill out. Just a few more weeks and she would be better. There wouldn't be any need to pretend she was okay, that she was fine. She just would be.

Glory had been the first to slink off to bed, followed shortly after by Valentina, who made a snarky remark that they were all in dire need of some beauty rest. Vivian decided rest wasn't a half-bad idea, and was the next to leave. Hailey and Troy's voices had carried on for a while after.

But no matter how tightly Vivian shut her eyes, sleep wouldn't come. It was midnight by the time she gave up on sleep and crawled out of bed. She found herself wandering into the kitchen, taking a cup of hot chocolate offered to her by an Avox, finding a couch overlooking a wall-sized window, and curling up.

The silky taste of chocolate reminded her of her Aunts' house. Of the winter's first snow. Comfort, safety, home. The window was useless, the outside world too dark to see much of anything, and the train moving too quickly for it to be more than a blur anyways. There was a television if it was a distraction that she was searching for, but she opted against it. She had already watched the reaping recap three times since the train rides had started. For now, well, she wasn't quite sure what she wanted. Quiet, maybe. But no, that wasn't it. What she wanted was something intangible, like a word stuck on the tip of the tongue, trapped behind clenched teeth and pursed lips and fighting to be freed.

She didn't realize Troy was still in the train car until his voice boomed out. "Vivian! You were so silent, I hadn't noticed you!" The hot chocolate nearly lept out of her hands as she jumped to a start.

Troy was on the other side of the train car, looking out the opposite window, a piece of paper carefully held in his hands as he smiled widely at her. She shifted in her seat, her eyes darting around the room. A modicum of comfort fell over her when she noticed two Avoxes still standing by the doors of the room.

"Hey," she said, quietly. She turned away from him and back to the window, holding the mug close to her face and inhaling the smell.

"I am surprised to see you awake at this hour! Is all well?" He sounded genuinely concerned, his footsteps loudly clapping against the ground as he stomped towards her.

"I'm fine, why are you awake?" She deflected, turning to face him as she set down her mug.

"Just thinking." He smiled sadly. "And you?"

"Same," she said. A quiet fell over the two of them, Troy keeping a comfortable distance as he attempted to keep a bold smile up. It faltered every time that he looked down at the paper he was holding. "What's that?" She asked eventually.

"Oh, nothing," he said, and he sounded almost embarrassed, or at least not as confident as normal. Vivian had only met Troy proper a month ago, yet in that short time had gotten to know someone who was anything but meek or quiet. He seemed to sense that answer wasn't enough, and tacked on, "It's just my token. A memory. They would not let me bring the whole book, so I had to rip out just a page."

"I didn't bring a token," Vivian said, almost dismissively. Her voice softened. "I don't need any reminders."

He hesitated, took a half-step forward, then gestured to the couch. "May I sit? That is, if you wouldn't be bothered."

Vivian shifted uncomfortably, but made room anyways, scooting to the opposite side of the long sofa. "Go ahead," she said.

Troy smiled gratefully. "My thanks," he said. He ran a hand gently along the paper, smoothing it out as his eyes traced across the page. "Pain can make us stronger, sometimes," he said, seemingly half to himself.

"Yeah, everything happens for a reason." Those words were a constant in her life, a mantra that kept her going. A line of thinking that had brought her here. They didn't seem to convince her anymore.

Troy nodded, smiled, opened his mouth, closed it, then hesitantly said, "This is from a book. It belonged to my parents. It was Idun's favorite." His smile grew at that. "My sister," he clarified.

"Was," Vivian echoed quietly.

"Was," Troy confirmed. His voice strengthened as he held the paper up, a confidence in his tone as he raised his chin. "But there is no use in growing sad about what has not yet been lost. Not forever. We will meet again, someday very soon. Of that I am sure."

Vivian scoured the page, her eyes landing across the large, bolded header at the top of the page. "Valhalla," she murmured.

"Valhalla," Troy repeated. "The final resting place for all great warriors. A grand hall where warriors of valour and courage feast and drink, sharing stories and preparing for Ragnarok." His voice quieted, but his bold smile stayed in place. "The place where my family and I will meet again. I will have many stories to share with them."

Vivian eyed him curiously. She waited for him to burst into laughter, to explain that it was all just a joke, but it didn't come. For anything else there was to say about Troy Magnison, he was as sincere as ever. Doubt and pity flirted in her mind, but she wasn't able to bring herself to vocalize it.

Ever since Jormun, the world had seemed darker, more distrustful. Bad intentions lurked behind every kind word or thoughtful gesture. It felt like she was living in a shrouded reality, one that seemed to lock even her own inner thoughts in a confused haze. Nothing was certain. But maybe this could be.

"You really believe that?" She asked gently.

"I do," he said. "I hope to meet you there someday, so that you may see it with your own eyes."

"You said that it's a place for people who are brave?" She smiled sadly, her arms running up her sleeves and tracing the edges of her scars. "Don't expect to find me there then."

"I do not expect to find you there. I know that you will be there. You are the most courageous person I have yet met."

"You got me wrong," she said quietly. "That isn't who I am. No matter what, no matter where I am, I'm always scared. I have been for a long time."

Troy seemed unfazed, smiling as he spoke with unwavering confidence. "Courage is not an absence of fear. It is a rejection of it. A warrior who fights even in the face of insurmountable fear? I can think of nobody who would be more at home in the halls of Valhalla."

Vivian's eyes shimmered as she stared at the man sitting across from her. She blinked, opening up her palms and staring down at the jagged scars that ran across them. Scars from the night where she lost everything. Scars that still burned, causing fear to overwhelm her in every waking moment. Scars that would always remind her of the trust and faith that had been shattered. Scars from when, even with all of that pain and fear, she fought.

Her fists clenched, and she looked up, a glimmer in her eyes. "You really mean that?" She asked, but it was more of a statement, a realization of something impossible.

Troy smiled. "Would you do me the honor of humoring me, and letting me tell you a story? It's a good one, I promise you. A story of gods and tricksters, epic battles and dire prophecies. Of Valhalla. It was always Idun's favorite."

Vivian tugged at her sleeves and smiled. A real smile, the first one in a long time. "That sounds nice."

Sparrow Kalani, 12, District Twelve

Night had given way to early morning, and yet still Sparrow's eyes refused to close. Stars twinkled in her eyes as she absorbed everything around her. There were more books than she knew existed, and then there was the television with its vibrant colors and dazzling scenes. She found a remote that changed the walls, making it so she appeared to be in some foreign environment. There were polar ice caps, calming ocean waves, noisy rainforests, and so much more. Everything raced around her, this giant world that she was just now realizing existed, and left her too stunned to do anything but lay back in her bed and take it all in.

Those first moments after being reaped were the most terrifying of her life. She had frozen, like she was caught in a moment, knowing the end was suddenly approaching. It was like she was reading the last page of a book. She could pause and savor each moment, but still there was that constant reminder of the end in the corner of her eye. Every story had to end eventually. Sometimes though, it can hook you in enough that you don't realize the end has happened until it's already passed.

They had let Sparrow take her jacket as her token, and she was glad for that. Mrs. Wren had offered to let her keep the book she had lent her as her token if she wanted, but Sparrow had said no to that. Maybe if she could leave that story unfinished, unending, then her story wouldn't have to end either. Those final pages would be waiting for her, and someday she would return to them, and read off those final words. But not yet. Not so soon.

She hugged herself tightly, burying her face in the grey fabric of the jacket. Sparrow imagined her mom's arms were the ones that wore her old jacket, and she clung tighter, desperate for that comfort that had been gone for so long.

Sparrow reached over for the remote, clicking the scenery away and sending the room back to its static, grey normalcy. She turned the television off too, the sounds of some bombastic action movie abruptly cutting off. A half-dozen books were sprawled across the top of her covers, and she shook them off, her bare feet touching down on the carpet as she stumbled to her feet.

She wobbled to her feet, barely holding herself up as her head throbbed and the edges of her vision blurred. The day before she hadn't slept either, too caught up in the world of the book she had freshly started, and it was starting to get to her. She had hardly eaten either, skipping over breakfast and dinner to escape the noise of her home. A sandwich that Mr. Wren had given her the day before was all she had eaten, and her stomach rumbled in protest.

Sparrow made for the dining room. Water was her first target, itching the scratch in her throat and returning enough energy for her to ask one of the Avoxes for some food. He had looked confused at that, but was unable to ask for clarification, and so off he went, coming back balancing a large platter filled with a varied assortment of snacks.

She settled for a peanut butter sandwich, feeling comfort in the familiarity and distrust of the peculiar Capitol delicacies. She muttered a quiet apology to the Avox for having him make all that food just for her, and for waking him maybe if he had been sleeping.

The couch served as her dining table, the passing by scenery serving as her entertainment. It was still early, and the sun didn't even threaten to spill over the horizon, leaving the world draped in a shadowy darkness. The lights of the train were enough to make out shapes, though, and she found comfort watching the outlines of trees racing by the glass windows. Her peanut butter sandwich rested on her lap in between forced nibbles.

Truthfully, Sparrow was unsure if she could hold the food in at all. Fear made her queasy, more than any amount of hunger or sickness could. She didn't want the comfort, anyways. She wasn't looking for a remedy to slip her off to a restful sleep. Her moments were ticking away, the pages thinning, and she didn't want to waste a single moment of her time. She extended every minute as much as she could, absorbed every sense and echoed every thought, but it still wasn't enough.

She saw her mom slipping away in front of her again. Those final sickly days as she slowly faded away, her heart slowing, her breath growing fainter, her words quieter. No matter how hard she tried to slow down those final moments, the end came all the same. And now that she was past the end, it felt like there was never a time when her mom's story was still being told. It was always just an epilogue, looking back at a time that seemingly never even was.

"Mom?" She asked in a broken voice, like glass that had already shattered and was now reverberating, echoing on.

The world outside the windows of the train car was blurry enough, painted in just the right amount of darkness that she could trick herself into believing that she was speaking to something more than just trees quickly passing by. She imagined that somewhere out there her mom was there, listening, and it didn't matter whether or not she believed if it were true. Imagining was enough.

"I miss you. I promise I do," she said in her quiet, slow voice. "I'm sorry I never cried. I don't know why I can't ever just cry." She bit her lip and lowered her gaze. "I promise I cared. I hope you know that."

The trees gave no response but the rushing of air as she swept past them.

"I haven't cried yet," she continued. "About the reaping, I mean. I was scared when they called my name. I couldn't even breathe for a bit."

She paused, her words trailing off into an unanswering void as she sat in still quietness.

"There's something wrong with me, isn't there? You always told me that there wasn't, that I was just special, and that was a good thing." She tugged at her sleeves, her voice dropping even quieter so that it was hardly even an audible whisper. "It never feels like a good thing."

Not even the wind offered a response to that.

On the table besides the sofa, the Avox had set some silverware and napkins. Sparrow's hands flirted across the table, dancing over the metallic silverware as her fingers brushed around the handle of a knife. She took it in her hands and gently pressed down on the table, watching as a tiny mark appeared in the wood.

Words flashed across her memory. Words carved into wood in a book she had left unfinished. Silent words of not rebellion, not hope, but strength. Inner strength, a promise to never give up, to not be grinded down to dust.

Her grip around the handle tightened as she knelt down and began carving into the side of the table, low down and just barely out of view, hidden in plain sight. The knife dropped from her hand as she finished the last letter, her arm pinched with stress as she viewed the words before her. Her silent promise.

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum

Maybe that could be enough.

Lana Birkhead, 12, District Two

She was up early. The routine had been built into her, her eyes opening without resistance before the first slivers of light had even begun to poke over the horizon. She climbed to her feet, still dressed in the training fatigues of the previous day, and exited her room. The escort had confined her to her room nearly as soon as they had entered the train. She overheard a commotion from outside her door, an argument of sorts. The escort claimed she wasn't supposed to volunteer, and would surely cause trouble. Her district partner, Talon Olympus, had seemed less concerned. Still, she had spent the day cooped up in her room. Nothing inside of the room made any sense to her, and so she hadn't touched a thing except for the bed. She didn't want to cause any trouble. Failure wasn't an option. The man had told her so. Now more than ever before.

So she explored the train quietly, slipping from car to car and silently observing. Most of the cars were filled with closed doors that she hadn't attempted to open. A few of them offered up large windows and sitting areas. She passed by the dining room that they had first entered in from at one point, and allowed herself a single moment to take in the grandeur of the room before moving on.

Less than a half-hour had passed by the time she reached the end of the train. It was a circular room, fitted with a handful of fancy dining tables and long, elegant couches. Nearly the entire wall was a window, and multiple chandeliers hung from the ceiling. And the room wasn't empty.

Talon Olympus was sitting on one of the couches, half-looking out the window as he chewed on some taffy. His attention switched to the girl as she walked into the room. She froze in place, eyes scanning her surroundings. A table set with sharp metallic knives. Two exits, both on the side of the room she currently occupied.

"Hey," Talon said casually. He gestured to the couch. "Early riser, huh?"

She nodded her head. Talon waited a few moments before realizing she wasn't going to take a seat. She stood in front of him, perfectly still, eyes still scanning the room.

"So, what's your name?" Talon asked, popping another piece of taffy into his mouth.

"Lana Birkhead," the girl said, her voice automatic and stiff.

He nodded. "Right. And what do you like to go by?"

She eyed him curiously, tilting her head as she gazed at his blank expression. "My name is Lana Birkhead."

"Course." He stretched out his arms, a yawn escaping from him as he settled back into his seat. "Well, my name is Talon. Since we're both awake, you want to sit and talk?"

"What about?" She asked, hesitantly.

Talon shrugged. "Whatever. I'm an open book and a patient listener." He popped another piece of taffy. "Can't help but be a tad bit curious about why a twelve-year-old girl volunteered, to be quite honest."

"Failure's not an option," she replied in answer.

He raised an eyebrow, but showed no other reaction. He had an uncanny demeanor, a smirking, nonchalant mask that shielded any signs of what was underneath. The girl decided he didn't seem malevolent, but there was something abnormal about him.

"Failure's not an option," Talon echoed. He thought on that for a moment, then shrugged. "Pretty fitting slogan for the Hunger Games, I guess. Not quite an answer for why you volunteered, though."

"You haven't said why you volunteered," she said, blankly staring through him.

Talon snorted. "Touché." He paused, then nodded his head and stood up. "Tell you what, you were cooped up in that room all day yesterday, you probably haven't even eaten yet. What do you say we go grab some breakfast, huh? You know, food. Kinda important."

She took a half-step back as he stood up, her eyes flirting to the knives on the nearby table. Her stomach growled at her though, and she stood aside, letting Talon walk out of the room and trailing behind him. Before she left the room, she quickly grabbed one of the knives, sliding it into her back pocket.

They walked in silence until they got to the dining room. Talon dismissed the Avox who came up to help him. He hopped over the counter into the kitchen, and the girl climbed up onto one of the stools, her hands folded in her lap as she watched him search through cabinets and drawers.

He ducked below the counter, then popped back up, an inquisitive look as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Now," he said. He tapped a finger to his chin. "If Dashiel or Amethyst were here, they'd probably tell us to eat a healthy, nutrient rich, vitamin heavy breakfast. But," he made a show of leaning over the counter and peering back and forth. "I don't see them here." He brought up a box of cereal, shaking it and pounding it on the counter.

She gave him an odd look, then looked down at the box, examining it closely. While she did that, Talon dug out a few more boxes, bags, and cups, and in a moment had a makeshift breakfast laid out in front of the two of them.

"Now, allow me to have the honor of introducing you to such fine delicacies as," Talon stopped his speech to quickly read the labels. "Well, mostly just candy and cereal."

"Candy and cereal?" The girl asked curiously. She picked up the bowl that Talon had curated for her, sifting through gummy bears, taffy, chocolate cereal, and licorice.

"It's pretty fantastic," Talon said, creating a bowl for himself. "Have you ever had any food that's sweet?"

"Sweet?" She asked. "Like people?"

He paused, stopping midway through pouring his cereal to give her a curious look. "I'm going to assume you mean the personality trait, and not that human flesh tastes sweet." He turned to his cereal, then back to her, and raised a finer. "You haven't eaten people, have you?"

She tilted her head, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Right, well, that's good. Look how much we're getting to know each other already. We have so much in common. You don't eat people, I don't eat people. Great times."

The girl looked down at her bowl of colorful food and poked it.

Talon tossed her a spoon that she deftly caught before it could smack her in the head. She glared at him, and he just shrugged. Not breaking eye contact, she hesitantly took a spoonful of the assortment and shoved it into her mouth.

The flavor was overwhelming, sweet sugar assaulting her taste buds as she chewed through the different layers of flavor. Her body shivered as she swallowed the last bit of taffy that clung to the roof of her mouth, and she decided she wasn't sure whether she liked or hated it.

"You really haven't ever had any food that's sweet before, have you?" Talon was looking at her bemusedly. He planted his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on his fists as he leaned forward, looking over her. "Now aren't you just the strangest thing. What is your story?"

She slid the bowl towards him. "Your food tastes gross," she stated simply.

"What, this stuff? Yeah, it's disgusting. I'll grab us some bananas and a few cups of hot chocolate." He pushed off of the counter, tossing her a banana before going off in search of hot chocolate.

She relished in the familiarity and routineness of the yellow fruit, munching straight through the peel as she devoured one, two, three, and then a fourth banana. Talon only showed a flicker of bemusement at the banana's total disappearance. He slid a full mug of light brown liquid in front of her, topped with a white foam.

"It's hot, careful with it," he said.

She looked at him, unsure.

"It tastes good, promise. Whip cream might give you a bit of a sugar high, but the drink is just the right amount of sweet."

The girl was still unconvinced, and waited for Talon to go first. He shrugged, downing the mug in one massive gulp that emptied half of the cup. The whip cream stuck to his lips, leaving him with a white foam mustache. The girl involuntarily let out a quiet giggle at the image, then quickly stifled it, covering her mouth and averting her gaze to the floor.

Talon began laughing. "What, never seen a foam mustache before?" He asked. "Go ahead, try it out." Lana looked up and he motioned to the mug in front of her.

Tentatively, she reached out. The mug was hot to the touch, and she clamped her palms around the cup, gripping it tightly as she brought it to her lips. She took a quick swig, the drink going easily down her throat without the painful sweetness of the breakfast bowl Talon had made.

Curiously, she brought up a finger to her mouth, poking the skin right above her lip. Her finger came back tipped in whip cream, and she popped her finger in her mouth, sucking the foam off. A slight smile slipped easily into place. She almost forgot where she was for a moment. It didn't take long for it all to come rushing back.

Where she was. Who she was. What she had to do.

Familiar words shouted from a back corner of her brain. Failure is not an option.

She quickly brought up her sleeve, wiping away the foam off of her mouth. She pushed the mug away from her, knocking it over in a panic and causing the liquid to pour over the counter.

Talon looked at her oddly, but said nothing as she stuffed her hands into her pockets, turned around, and quickly took off, out of the dining room, through the hallway, and away from candy cereal, hot chocolate, and foam mustaches.

A/N: I really loved getting to explore these three lovely characters, and am super excited for everything I have planned for them. Next chapter takes us to the Capitol as we see the Chariot Rides with Coira and Talon. See you all there, and be sure to let me know what you think!

Trivia (1 point): Which has been your favorite district team so far?

Trivia (1 point): The Careers will meet for the first time next chapter, any predictions for how that meeting will go?