Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: And here's the last of our train ride chapters. Just a friendly reminder to vote in the poll if you haven't yet; a new one will be up next chapter.

Train Rides
What is Not

Annemae Carty, 18
District Two

He clearly wasn't going to help her.

Mae glared across the table at Mortimer as he continued eating his breakfast. He hadn't said more than two words to her since they'd boarded the train. The others had already split off and left, just as they had after dinner the day before. Etora and Darian seemed to be working together – and probably with the rest of the Careers, as well. They had left along with Tosh and Balthasar as soon as they'd finished eating. Margo and Harriet had left soon after, while Leo and Vester hadn't bothered coming to join them at all.

Maybe that, at least, was for the best. Leo had completely broken down at the reaping, after all, and from the little she'd seen in passing since then, it wasn't just a brief moment of panic. If he wasn't cut out for the Games, maybe it was better that she knew that now. That way, she wouldn't be surprised if – no, when – he died.

As for Mortimer, he was still pretending to eat his breakfast. He'd finished at least fifteen minutes ago, but had continued to pick at what was left, as if he wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to say to a tribute who wasn't a Career. Mae could feel her face growing redder by the minute. Maybe she wasn't the tribute he would have wanted, but that didn't give him the right to sulk and ignore her. She was the one who was going to be fighting for her life in a few days. If anyone had the right to be in a bad mood, it was her.

Mae leaned in towards the table. "Look, if you're not going to help me, just say so now – while I still have time to find someone else who might."

Mortimer scoffed. "Like who?"

Mae shrugged. "Maybe one of the other mentors wouldn't mind having two tributes. Maybe Vester would like to have a tribute who actually has a shot. Hell, Carenza might be willing to pitch in if you're not up to it." The escort certainly wouldn't be her first choice for a viable adviser, but if Mortimer was going to abandon her…

Mortimer shook his head. "Look, it's not like I don't want to help you. Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to prove that even District Two's non-Careers are better than whatever else any other district has to offer. But the fact is that I'm not going to be much help to you. I'm used to having tributes who are a bit more … prepared."

Mae shook her head. "So that's your secret? You don't actually have any advice to give? You just hope that your tributes have it all figured out already?"

Mortimer actually chuckled a little. "Trying to bait me won't work, kid. If it's advice you want, it's advice you'll get … but you won't like it."

"Try me."

"All right. First of all, don't even bother trying to join up with the Career pack. You're not up to it."

"I could have told you that."

"They might ask you. You don't have any training – or, at least, I'm assuming you don't – but they might not make that assumption. You're older. Older than most of the other tributes from Career districts. So if they ask you … say no. But try to do it without offending them if you can."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Search me."

"Well, you're a lot of help."

"Manners were never really my strong suit. But if you make it clear that you're refusing because you don't think you'd cut it as a member of the pack – and if the way you're acting during training reflects that – then there shouldn't be any hard feelings, and they'll realize they made a mistake when they assumed you had training."

"What makes you so sure I don't?"

Mortimer perked up a little at that. "Do you?"

"Only a little," Mae admitted. "My ex taught me to throw knives in his spare time. I got pretty good at it, but that was a while ago."

"Your ex?"

"Tyson Bort."

Mortimer raised an eyebrow. "Ah."

"You remember him?"

"Vaguely."

Mae shook her head. "He always said he was one of your favorites, that you were sure to pick him to volunteer."

"Then he's an idiot," Mortimer concluded. "Even if I had favorites, that wouldn't factor into who gets to volunteer. The volunteers are whoever's the best prepared, whoever's ready for the Games. Whoever has the skills it's going to take to win, not who I personally consider my favorite."

"And would he have been? The best prepared, I mean. Would you have picked him?"

"We hadn't made our decision yet – purposely, in case something went wrong with the Quell. We didn't want to disappoint whoever we ended up choosing. But no, he probably wasn't one I would have considered."

Mae relaxed a little. There was some satisfaction there, at least. Tyson wouldn't have been Mortimer's choice for the Games. Which probably meant that he wouldn't have been able to win, even if he'd had the opportunity.

Mortimer leaned forward a little. "But this isn't about him. This is about you. How much did you learn from him?"

"Not enough for you to consider me Career material, I'm sure. But enough that I might be able to hit a target pretty accurately, if I still remember—"

"I'm sure you remember enough for it to be useful," Mortimer interrupted, to her surprise. "That's not really the sort of thing you forget. But you're right about that not being enough to make you a Career. Unless there are a lot of other skills you're hiding, I still wouldn't advise teaming up with the rest of the Career pack. Still, it might be enough to give you an edge over someone who doesn't have any training at all."

Mae couldn't help a smile. "See? This isn't so bad, after all."

Mortimer shook his head. "You're definitely not going to like my next piece of advice."

Mae shrugged. "Shoot."

"I'm sure you noticed when you watched the reapings, but there's another girl named Mae."

"The little girl from District One," Mae agreed. "What about it?"

"It's going to be a bit confusing for the Capitolites."

Mae shrugged. "If they can't deal with two tributes having the same name, then they should just eliminate everyone with a duplicate name from the reaping bowl. Problem solved."

Mortimer chuckled. "Believe me, there are plenty of people who would like that … but that wasn't my point. You might want to consider going by your full name in the Capitol to avoid confusion. You wouldn't want the sponsors accidentally sending a gift to the wrong Mae."

"You think I'm going to get sponsors?"

"That's not the point."

Of course it wasn't. Mae leaned back in her chair. Mortimer was right; she certainly didn't like the advice. No one called her by her full name; even her parents had eventually given in and started calling her Mae instead of Annemae. If she was going to be fighting for her life – and quite possibly dying … if there was a chance that these were her last few days, she didn't want to spend them going by some other name – a name that she wasn't used to using.

Mae shook her head. "No."

"That's it? No? You're not even going to think about it?"

"I don't need to. If I can deal with being picked for a death match, then they can deal with having two Maes. Or maybe the other one will decide to go by some nickname. But I'm not going to."

Mortimer sighed. "Okay."

"Okay?" She hadn't expected him to give in that easily.

Mortimer shrugged. "Look, if it's that important to you, it's not worth fighting over. I just thought it might be a little thing you could do to make things easier for yourself. But if it's that big of a deal—"

"It is." She couldn't explain exactly why, but at least he was willing to accept that.

"Then we might as well move on to more important things," Mortimer reasoned. "No point fighting over something trivial when there are much more important things we could be disagreeing on." He finally cracked a smile. "Why don't we head to one of the other cars? This might take a while."

"Why?"

"I have some more advice you're not going to like."

Elliot Stone, 18
District Five

This wasn't really what he'd been expecting.

Elliot shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he, Macauley, Oliver, and Sabine sat around the table. He wasn't used to seeing them without any of the others – Harakuise, Camden, Jai. They always seemed like so much of a … a family, really. He had assumed that they would be working together for a little while, at least.

Maybe that was a silly thing to assume. The younger boy, Retro, clearly wasn't a Career, and the older boy seemed to have already given up. If they weren't even interested in being part of the Career pack, there was no real reason for them to be mentored together. Still, knowing that the others were somewhere else on the same train – that they simply had no interest in being his allies – was an odd feeling.

"Don't worry; you'll have plenty of people around soon enough," Oliver assured him, as if he knew what Elliot had been thinking. "From the look of the reaping, we'll still have a decent-sized Career pack, but you two should still be able to work your way in, if you're interested."

Macauley immediately nodded. "Of course we're interested. Why wouldn't we be?"

Elliot shrugged. "Speak for yourself. I don't really have as much training as you."

"But you still have some," Oliver pointed out. "That already puts you ahead of most of the other tributes in the arena. And, from the look of it, you'll be two of the older members of the pack … again, if that's what you want."

Elliot hesitated. Was that what he wanted. It was certainly what Garnet would have wanted. Maybe even what Garnet would have wanted for him. Would his friend have been happy for him? Glad to see him have a chance at the Games?

No. No, probably not. He would understand that this wasn't really what Elliot wanted. Garnet had been nothing but supportive when he'd decided to stop training. Garnet had wanted to be in the Games; Elliot hadn't. They had always been different, but they hadn't let that separate them.

"Elliot?"

Elliot's attention snapped back to the moment. "Sorry," he apologized, blushing a little. "What were you saying?"

Oliver smiled. "It's okay. Macauley was just saying that—"

His district partner shook her head. "Just Mac is fine."

"Mac it is, then," Oliver agreed. "Mac was just saying that it would be better to decide sooner rather than later about whether you want to be part of the pack. Since there are two of you, you have a good chance of the other Careers accepting both of you if you make it clear that you're already working together. If not … well, it's probably best to know sooner."

That made sense. "Okay," Elliot agreed. "Let's do it."

Mac clapped him on the back. "You won't regret it."

"I hope not." He turned to Oliver and Sabine. "Does that mean you'll be mentoring us together?"

Oliver nodded. "Unless there's some reason why we shouldn't."

Mac shook her head. "None that I know of. Elliot?"

"Fine with me."

Sabine smiled a little. "My, we're just a nice, easygoing bunch, aren't we."

Oliver smirked. "My kind of tributes. That sort of flexibility – it'll help you a lot in the arena. There's no telling what the Gamemakers might have in store for a Quarter Quell. You'll have to be ready to deal with whatever they might have planned." He leaned back in his chair. "Mind you, some of their surprises could be a lot of fun. If you get a chance to ride a giant prairie dog, for example, take it."

Elliot chuckled. "You don't think they'd use the same mutts they've used before, do you?"

Oliver shook his head. "I doubt it. But we do have something of a reputation to keep up. Eagles. Tracker jackers. Prairie dogs. The audience is used to seeing tributes from District Five use mutts to their advantage, so if you get the chance to, go for it. The Gamemakers will probably go along with it."

"Probably," Sabine qualified. "Trust your gut. If your gut is telling you not to go near a mutt, then you get the hell away from it. Not everyone gets as lucky as Oliver here. Some of us had scarecrow mutts in our Games. Not as easy to tame."

Oliver gave her a playful punch. "You think taming a prairie dog is easy?"

"It's easier to tame something that's not trying to stab you with a pitchfork," Sabine reasoned.

Elliot giggled. This was more like it. This was why he'd taken up training in the first place. The Victors – and especially Oliver – had made it look like so much fun. It was almost enough to make him forget just how dangerous the Games really were.

Almost.

"So what do you think it'll be this year?" Mac asked. "Mutts that we can use or mutts that are just going to go for the kill?"

Sabine shook her head. "Hard to say. But if the last Quarter Quell is anything to go by, they'll mostly use the mutts to drive you together. So if you're doing enough of that on your own, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. There were … what? Spider mutts in the last Quarter Quell?"

"Something like spiders," Oliver agreed. "And some sort of singing … something. There were some weird mutts that year."

Sabine chuckled. "I think they were trying to outdo the previous years. Since it was a Quell and all. So you might get something similar this year. Not many mutts last year."

There hadn't been – which may have been part of why last year's Games had lasted so long. The hospital had been almost completely devoid of mutts, aside from some rats that had been wandering the halls and other creatures living in the filth. Flies. Maggots. It had certainly been disgusting, but he didn't remember any of the tributes being killed by mutts.

Come to think of it, the previous year hadn't had any particularly exciting mutts, either. There had been oversized ants in the giant anthill, but they hadn't had a chance to do much of anything before Basil had collapsed the entire anthill. And the year before that, mutts hadn't done much of anything until the finale, when they'd driven Duke and his last opponent together.

Maybe that meant they were due for some flashier mutts this year. And if so, maybe he and Mac could use that to their advantage. Oliver was right that the audience was used to seeing tributes from District Five take advantage of mutts – from Harakuise riding a giant eagle out of the arena following the finale to Adalyn causing chaos during the bloodbath by smashing every hive she could find in her apiary arena, leading to the shortest Hunger Games yet.

Maybe that was why the Gamemakers had been shying away from using mutts too much. It was one thing to use them to drive tributes together – or to provide transportation, as the prairie dogs had allowed Oliver to do. It was quite another for mutts to kill – or aid in killing – the majority of the tributes. That wasn't the point of the Games, after all. The point of the Games was for them to kill each other.

And this year, certainly, of all years, they would want to showcase what the tributes could do. What they would do when they were pushed to their limits. That was what the Quells were for – a reminder that the horrors of the Games were caused by the districts' own actions.

Elliot shook the thought from his head as he turned his attention back to the conversation. That didn't matter right now. Trying to predict what the mutts might be, or what the Gamemakers might do … there wasn't much point at the moment. Whatever the Gamemakers had in store, they would find out soon enough.

For now, he was probably happier not knowing.

Nephelle Sorena, 17
District Seven

Maybe this wasn't as bad as she'd thought it would be.

Nephelle glanced around the table as the four of them ate. Casper and Hazel had spent most of the morning giving the two of them advice, and she was starting to feel a little better. Maybe there was a chance that she was going to make it through this. Maybe…

"So what about allies?" Thomas asked hesitantly. The topic had come up several times earlier, but nothing had really been decided on. And maybe that made sense. After all, the only other tribute she'd actually met was Thomas. So was he asking if they should be allies, or just wanting advice on allies in general?

"You're probably going to have to wait until you meet some of the other tributes to really decide on that," Casper reasoned. "Even if you're thinking about allying with each other, it's a good idea to consider your other options first. You don't want to get stuck in an alliance you don't really want because you were desperate to find someone and didn't think you had any other options."

"Is that what happened to you?" Thomas asked.

Casper chuckled. "Not at all. I didn't have any allies until the very end of training, when my district partner finally offered. By then … well, I suppose I was glad to find someone, but it was never really about being desperate. It wasn't an alliance of convenience. We knew we could trust each other." He shook his head. "A lot of people would tell you that's not the most important thing in an alliance. That's it's more important to find people who are stronger, people who have skills that you lack. But if you can't trust them – at least a little – then there's no point having them around at all."

Thomas turned to Hazel. "And you?"

"I ended up allying with my district partner, too, actually," Hazel agreed. "But that was because I already knew him. He was friends with my older brother. But I got lucky there, I suppose. He was someone I could trust and someone who was both older and stronger than I was. He helped me stay alive, and, in the end, that's what you're looking for – someone who can help you survive."

Nephelle nodded. That was all well and good. But there wasn't anyone in the Games she could really trust. Thomas seemed nice enough, but when push came to shove, he would choose his own life over helping her survive. Not that she blamed him for that; it was human nature, and she would do the same. But all their mentors' talk about trust … well, maybe that was part of the reason District Seven only had two Victors.

She knew better than to say that, of course. The only person she really could count on to help her rather than themselves was Hazel, and she wasn't about to jeopardize that by saying something rash.

"But how do you know who can help you survive?" Thomas asked. "How do you know how you can trust?"

Casper shook his head. "It's not like there's some secret to it. At some point, you just have to go with your gut feeling about a person. And if at some point you realize you were wrong … get out. Before it kills you."

Nephelle nodded. That was the important thing, really. Everyone made mistakes in the Games; that was unavoidable. The important thing was being able to recognize those mistakes before it was too late, before they became too costly.

"So how would you go about looking for allies?" she asked. "Especially with this many tributes?"

"It helps to have some idea of what you're looking for," Hazel reasoned. "Or at least how many allies you're looking for. Since there aren't as many Careers this year, there might be other larger groups forming. Since the two of you are some of the older tributes, they might ask you by default, and you'll have to decide if that's something you're interested in."

Nephelle nodded, but she already knew the answer to that. Being in a big group might seem appealing, but it wasn't worth the risk. Larger groups automatically had a target on their backs. Other tributes assumed large groups were a threat, even if they were made up of tributes who wouldn't normally be a threat individually.

"I don't think so," Thomas replied, shaking his head. "Large groups have never really been my thing…"

"Then that's not likely to change now," Hazel reasoned. "No reason to add to a situation that's already stressful by putting yourself around more people than you need to – especially people you might get attached to."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Thomas admitted.

Casper shook his head. "No, but it does tend to happen – whether you mean for it to or not. Being forced into a life-or-death situation with people … it heightens emotions. It brings out the worst in people, but it can also bring out the best. The sort of bond that comes from finding someone who would actually put their life on the line for you … that's hard to shake."

"Then you got lucky," Thomas put in. "Most people don't find allies who would do that."

"I did get lucky," Capser agreed. "And you're right. It's probably not the norm. I'm just saying … well, just try not to get too attached. And having a smaller group means fewer people to get attached to, yes, but it also means you get a lot closer to the allies you do have. It's harder to let go when … well, when you eventually have to. One way or another, every alliance is going to end."

Nephelle nodded. Exactly. So it was better not to get attached in the first place. Which meant that what they were really looking for was allies that they wouldn't become too close to. Allies who realized the same thing – that any alliance was going to be temporary, and that they would eventually have to part ways.

Allies like each other, maybe.

Maybe. She didn't want to get too far ahead of herself, and Casper was right about considering other options, but Thomas already seemed to have the right attitude. He was asking the right questions. He was older, stronger, and would probably be willing to accept if she asked.

But not yet. She didn't want to seem too eager for an alliance. That might look suspicious. Besides, if the pair of them went into training having already formed an alliance, that might deter anyone else from joining up with them. And while she didn't like the sound of joining a larger group, she wouldn't mind having another ally or two in addition to Thomas.

Thomas, however, seemed ready to move on with the conversation. "So once we have allies – whether it's each other or someone else – then what? If there are going to be fewer Careers, does that mean it might be safer to try to get supplies at the beginning?"

"Maybe," Hazel agreed. "Back when I won – before there were really Careers – there wasn't as much fighting at the start. But now … now, it's something the audience will expect, even if there aren't as many Careers. And I wouldn't ignore the Careers that there are. The audience will still be expecting the tributes from Career districts to act like Careers, even if they aren't, so they might try to prove themselves by making a splash during the bloodbath."

That made sense. It might even be what she would do, if she was from a Career district. But she wasn't. No one was expecting a tribute from District Seven to charge into the bloodbath. And there didn't seem to be much of a reason to. It was tempting, especially with the prospect of fewer Careers, but tributes were usually able to find supplies pretty well without having to rely on getting something from the bloodbath.

It just wasn't worth the risk.

Wes Bartoshesky, 16
District Eleven

He wasn't in much of a rush to get started yet.

Wes leaned back in his chair, doing his best to listen as the other five – Shanali, Kilian, and their three mentors – kept talking. Well, some of them were talking, at least. Kilian and Shanali seemed eager to keep started, and Elijah and Tamsin were perfectly content to jump right in and get to the point. Violet, on the other hand…

She must have caught Wes staring at her, because she immediately looked away and started making her way to the kitchen, instead. The others didn't even seem to notice. Or maybe they thought she was just going to get some more food. Quietly, Wes got up and followed her.

"Are you all right?" he asked once they were out of earshot of the others.

Violet grabbed a bottle of wine and poured herself a drink. "No. Get used to that. None of us are all right – even the ones who seem like it. Even the ones who have gone back to normal lives and tried to move on … no, they're not all right either. They're just better at pretending."

Wes glanced at the bottle in her hand. How much had she already had? "Well, that's … helpful."

Violet burst out laughing. "I'm sure it is. That's very kind of you. But if you want 'helpful,' you should probably head back and talk to the others."

Wes shook his head. "I don't know about that. You won, after all – and more recently than either of them."

Violet took a long drink. "Yes. Yes, I did. But if you want to win too, you need to stop worrying about me. I'm alive. I'll still be alive once these Games are over. You need to start worrying about you if you want to make it out of the Games alive."

Wes nodded. He knew that. But he didn't want to start worrying about himself. If he did, he knew, he wouldn't be able to stop. Wasn't it better to just deal with things as they came, to play it by ear? "What about you?" he asked. "Were you worried?"

Violet chuckled. "Not nearly as worried as I should have been. On the train ride, my district partners and I decided to form an alliance, and I figured that was that. They would help keep me alive for a while, and then … then I could worry about whatever came after that."

That made sense. "And it worked out pretty well," he pointed out. "The three of you lasted a while – and you survived."

Violet nodded, swirling her drink a little before taking another sip. "Oh, it worked all right. If you mean I survived, I guess. But the other two … they weren't nearly as helpful as I was counting on, when it came down to it. The three of us did pretty well against a tribute who happened to be alone, but when it came to the Careers…"

Wes shrugged. "Well, that's not their fault – or yours. No one expects a couple of outer-district tributes to be able to beat a group of Careers in a fair fight."

"Exactly," Violet agreed. "No one expects it. We go into the Games, and they expect us to fail. They expect us to die. And most of the time, they're right. But no one seems to want to do a damn thing about it. They sit out there giving advice as if it's really going to help once your lives are on the line. The truth is, there's nothing they can tell you that's going to help you once you're actually in the Games, once you're face to face with another tribute who's prepared their whole lives just to kill you."

Wes nodded. "Good thing there won't be as many Careers this year, then."

Violet shook her head. "You'd think so. Oh, you'd think so from watching the reapings. But even the ones who don't have the skill – they'll be trying to seem like Careers for the audience."

That made sense. He didn't like it, but it made sense. "So what do I do?" he asked. "Go out there and try to form an alliance like you did? Ask my district partners?" Would they say yes, if he asked? He wasn't even sure if Shanali and Kilian were planning on teaming up with each other, despite the amount of chatter that was coming from the other room. It could just be friendly advice. Or it could be something more. If it was, would they let him join in?

Was that a group he wanted to join in?

Violet drained her glass before answering. "I don't know. Maybe you want to take the same approach I did. Maybe not. Some Victors have had allies; some haven't. It's all about what you think is going to work for you."

That wasn't particularly helpful. "But how do I know what's going to work for me?"

"You don't."

"Great."

Violet chuckled a little. "I didn't know, either – not going in. I thought we would be able to make it pretty far, but the truth is that no one goes into the Games with any real idea of what's going to happen. That's … well, that's normal. And as far as this year goes, anything normal is going to be a relief."

"You think I should be relieved that I don't know what I'm doing?"

"I'd be more worried if you did. If you thought you knew exactly what you were doing. If you already had what you thought was a fool-proof plan. Because there are no fool-proof plans. There's no one strategy that works for everyone, every time. If there was, don't you think someone would have figured it out by now?"

Wes nodded reluctantly. She was right. And he hated that she was right. There was no way to guarantee that he would win. No way to know for sure that he would be the one coming out of the arena alive. "Thanks," Wes mumbled.

Violet scoffed. "Look, if you really insist on me giving you advice about allies … no, I wouldn't team up with your district partners."

That caught him by surprise. "Why not?"

"Nothing against them in particular," Violet assured him. "But I only won four years ago. My Games will still be fresh in people's minds. The idea of all three tributes from Eleven teaming up will set off alarm bells in some tributes' heads – especially since all three of you are on the older side. And the Gamemakers will notice, too. This year especially, they'll want to seem like they're doing something new. If you team up with your district partners, just like I did, and start hunting down other tributes, just like I did … they might try to spice things up a bit. And that's never something you want."

"So who would you suggest allying with?"

"Not a large group, for starters," Violet suggested. "Larger groups tend to draw attention from the Careers – and that'll be especially true this year. Any group that seems large enough to challenge the Career pack will be a target, because they'll want to prove themselves as soon as the Games start. They'll want to show the audience that they are a Career pack, and you don't want to get in their way."

"So a small group, then," Wes agreed. "A few other people? Maybe one or two?"

"That sounds about right. There were three of us, and we managed to avoid the Careers' attention for a while. Just know that you won't be able to avoid their attention forever – or the attention of the Gamemakers. No matter how many tributes you decide to ally with – or no matter how few – eventually, it'll be you. Just you, trying to survive. Just you, against whoever else is left."

Wes swallowed hard. That sounded even worse. The thought of facing the Games with an ally or two by his side was bad enough. But the thought of being alone in the arena was even more frightening.

Violet laid a hand gently on his shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll have time to get used to the idea. With any luck, by the time it's just you, you'll be glad you don't have to watch your back anymore. Glad you don't have to worry that your allies might turn on you." She shook her head. "It's been four years, and I still wonder what would have happened if my allies had lasted a little longer. Whether they would have turned on me, whether I would have turned on them. I don't know." She shrugged. "Maybe I should be glad I don't know."

Maybe. But as hard as he tried, Wes couldn't imagine turning on someone he considered an ally. A friend. Whatever allies he had, he hoped he wouldn't have to. That they would be able to part ways peacefully before it came to that. It happened sometimes. Sometimes.

He just hoped he could get that lucky.

"Present fears are less than horrible imaginings. My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, shakes so my single state of man that function is smothered in surmise, and nothing is but what is not."