A/N

Hi there! After finishing all of our tribute introductions, we are now taking a short break to check in on our subplot characters. I must say, I have missed these characters and that was apparent as I ended up writing near 8000 words for this chapter! I hope you enjoy reading it at least a fraction of the amount I enjoyed writing it!

As a note for timing, this chapter is set a little earlier than the last intro chapter. I don't plan to jump with timelines very much, but it did not make practical sense to have this chapter set in the middle of intros, nor could it have taken place where they left off. Anyway, on with the chapter!

Ivo Castellanos, President of Panem

The mountainous terrain from outside the window of the train reflected in Ivo's eyes; playing like a vintage film across the glazed, curved surfaces.

It had been perhaps a decade since the President had returned to his District of birth; though as much as he had changed, the mountains never did. Their peaks and their valleys remained a permanent landscape; silently observing the chaos that unfolded in the country beyond. Never interfering, never judging.

If only Ivo's life were as simple as the mountains that surrounded District Two.

A fleeting and distant dream perhaps, but a sweet one all the same.

"We should be arriving soon," Ivo's personal assistant and confidant, Celeste, walked into the carriage.

The handful of years had matured Celeste greatly. Whilst youth was still very much on her side at the sweet age of twenty four, Celeste's demeanour was that of a much older and more experienced woman. The disappearance of her brother five years prior and her desperate searches which had led to numerous dead ends had built a solid cage around her emotions, though a girl who had been so hopeful and gentle could not be locked away forever. Sometimes glimmers between the false smiles and rigid posture Ivo could see the girl who had come to visit him just hours before his execution. Celeste still cared about humanity, despite their flaws, and that was one of many reasons why Ivo had asked her to work directly beside him. Why she had accepted, was something Ivo did not yet know.

"Mm-hm," Ivo agreed, withdrawing his eyes from the window. "Despite my absence, I still very much recognise my old home."

"How long has it been?" asked Celeste, taking a seat on the chair opposite Ivo.

"Too long."

The speed of the trained slowed, indicating that they were approaching the station. With a sigh, Ivo shrugged his arms back into his blazer and straightened out the creases in his open-neck shirt.

As the train pulled into the station and came to a gentle halt, Ivo rose from his seat and made his way to the exit, with Celeste following closely behind.

The train station itself was mostly clear, with Peacekeepers in their blue uniform scattered about in the masses. Security appeared to be tight, which ironically made Ivo feel a little less secure. It wasn't quite a warm welcome, but he had expected nothing less.

Maintaining his position as President had been a tentative task, and one he would not have been able to achieve had it not been for The Candid, the group who had seemed to have emerged from thin air and somehow taken a firm grip around the throat of Panem. Their tightest grip, however, was on Ivo's own throat.

"Welcome to District Two, President Castellanos," the mayor of the District stood in the centre of the platform, holding out a hand in greeting. Ivo took it, shaking it firmly, a little firmer than the mayor had been expecting, he suspected.

"Or should I say, welcome home," the mayor smiled. "It has been how long now?"

Ivo glanced around the station. "A while, yes."

"I knew your father quite well," continued the mayor. "Vasil Castellanos' reputation was one to be admired. Have you spoken with him as of late? I'm afraid I lost contact with him some years back."

Ivo shook his head. "I can't say I have. But thank you for the welcome, it is very much appreciated. If you'll excuse me, I do have business to attend to. Unfortunately this is not a social visit."

Whilst Ivo had somewhat mastered the art of small-talk, he was not a fan of it, nor was he a fan of discussing his father. Vasil Castellanos left a bitter taste in the back of his throat that Ivo was keen to avoid.

Making polite apologies, the mayor stepped aside as Ivo followed his Candid escorts towards the Justice Building, which stood not too far from the train station. As he walked, Ivo could not help but notice how much of an enigma District Two was. It was both entirely different, and yet also the same.

Once inside the famous Justice Building, Ivo and Celeste were shown to a set of large double doors at the end of the grand corridor.

"The other attendees have already arrived," they were told by a Peacekeeper, who had been stationed outside the doors.

A ripple of anxiety tickled the pit of Ivo's stomach. Before the death of Aurelia, Ivo had been a stranger to natural human reactions such as fear and anxiety, but in more recent years he had grown ever the more familiar with them. In a way they made him weaker, and yet also stronger.

Inhaling sharply as the doors were opened, Ivo maintained his authoritative stance as he proceeded into the room.

A large mahogany table filled the majority of the room, with a collection of leather chairs placed around it. Three of the seats were occupied, with another figure leant against the wall behind.

Saying nothing, Ivo pulled out a chair for Celeste, gesturing for her to sit down first. She did so, watching as Ivo then pulled out his own chair.

It wasn't until the doors shut behind them that Ivo felt able to break the silence.

"Thank you all for attending," he began.

"There's no need for formalities," butted in Aella Castro, the Victor from District Four who was sat sideways in her seat with her legs propped up on the table's surface. "We all know you're not really as well-mannered as you try to make out."

Ivo raised an eyebrow. "It seems as though you are very much the same woman you've always been, Aella."

"I'd say the same to you, but that would be a lie," Aella bounced back, with bitterness to her tone. "No, you've changed Mr Castellanos, and I wouldn't take it as a compliment. Tell me, do you still find it difficult to keep that tiny dick in your pants?"

Ivo flinched.

"Aella," it was Cascade who spoke next. Ivo felt his gut tightening as his eyes fell onto the young woman who had once been his lover. The last time he had seen Cascade was the day of his failed execution, when she had handed him the photograph of their son; a photograph Ivo still kept in the breast pocket of his blazer.

"What happened between Ivo and I is a matter of the past," Cascade spoke softly to the darker haired Victor, resting an affectionate hand on her leg. "Let's focus on the present, yeah?"

Respecting Cascade's words, Aella seemed to drop her attacks towards Ivo, lifting her legs from the table as she leant in towards Cascade, planting an overly sexualised kiss on her cheek as Cascade turned her face away.

"Yeah, we fuck now," Aella told Ivo with a smirk.

Ivo raised an eyebrow. He had never really thought much about Cascade's sexuality, but he supposed the pairing made some sort of sense.

"Shall we just get to the point?" interjected Farley Mir, the Victor from Two who had recently established quite a name for himself as some form of hero for the common citizen. "You're the one who invited us here. Spit it out."

The lack of respect that filled the room was ironically a comfort to Ivo. The world of politics was often suffocating that the encounter felt like a breath of fresh air.

"Good, I despise small-talk anyway," agreed Ivo, resting his hands on the table where his fingers entwined together. "I'm here about the Games, obviously. I was rather hoping that you'd return as mentors."

The room fell silent.

"Look," Ivo sighed. "The last few years have been a mess, I admit. I hope that the return of the Games will help to regain some sort of stability, but it will take a lot more than that to keep us out of another civil war. I thought that perhaps…"

Celeste rested her arm in front of Ivo. "Look, we need people we can trust and in all honesty there are not many of them around."

"You trust us?" Farley folded his arms across his chest.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do," replied Ivo, smiling quickly towards Celeste. "People look up to you, Farley. They trust you. Regardless of how well we actually know each other, I could really do with someone like you around."

Farley didn't argue.

"Cascade," Ivo moved his eyes towards her, feeling the slightest flicker of emotion beneath his ribs. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I trust you and I know that you want what's best for Panem. And if you trust Aella, then I'll take your word for it."

"You're right," said Cascade, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "I don't trust you, but I do believe that in your own warped way, you want what's best for Panem too. Aurelia would be proud."

Tears pricked at the corners of Ivo's eyes, which he promptly blinked away.

"So is that a yes then?" asked Celeste, returning the conversation to business. "Will you return as mentors?"

Farley and Cascade exchanged looks.

"We're in," said Farley with a nod.

"On one condition," butted in Aella, leaning forwards into the table. "You still need a mentor for Twelve, right?"

Ivo nodded. With no surviving Victors, and the last Games' stand-in Eudora Delambre having been killed in the aftermath of Aurelia's assassination, there remained an empty place to be filled.

"Let me do it," suggested Aella, which was clearly a matter she had not discussed with the others, judging by their shocked expressions. "Hear me out, ok? You could get in another Capitol replacement like last time, but why bother with someone without experience when you can have someone who knows what they're talking about? Risa's a mentor now, so there's my usual gig gone. I'm a spare part, Mr President, use me. If not for me, then for Eudora –that bitch gave her life protecting Cascade –protecting your unborn son! Least I can do is honour her old role. Plus that's another person in the Capitol you can supposedly trust, right?"

Ivo looked to Celeste, who seemed warmed to the idea. Ivo supposed that it did make sense, and if it kept Cascade and Farley on-side then it would be worth the criticisms, if any.

"Alright, fine," Ivo agreed.

"Now that's agreed, we'd better be going," Farley stood up promptly. "Unless there's anything else you needed from us, Mr President?"

Ivo had been surprised that he had needed to do so little to convince the Victors to return, so he simply raised his hands to signal that he had no objections to bringing the meeting to an end. Things had been so simple that he didn't desire to put that at risk with further conversation.

"Good," nodded Farley, making his way around the table. "We've got things to prepare before the Reapings then. We'll be seeing you shortly, President Castellanos. Oh, I almost forgot to introduce Trent to you."

Ivo looked at the young man who had been stood at the back of the room, silently, for the duration of the short meeting. He was not a man Ivo recognised, but there was a look in his eyes that Ivo was all too familiar with –the look of someone who had known loss.

"Trent Halbrik," the young man introduced himself, but kept his hands thrust into the pockets of his black leather jacket instead of offering one to Ivo.

For some reason, the name seemed somewhat familiar, though Ivo couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Trent's boyfriend was Piken Halbrik," Farley explained. "District Seven tribute from the last Games, if you recall?"

Ivo recalled. He recalled every tribute who had participated in his one and only Games.

"Seeing that they were never able to marry, Trent took on Piken's name," continued Farley. "He's now one of our key contacts from Seven; deals with logistics and that. You'd be surprised how many people we have on our side, Mr President."

"And whose side is that?" questioned Ivo with curiosity.

"Panem's side."

Farley then left the room without further explanation, with Trent following behind him. As Aella then also walked past Ivo, she narrowed her eyes towards him, saying nothing as she swept through the door. Cascade, however, paused before reaching the exit.

Sensing the situation, Celeste quickly rose from her seat. "I'll just wait outside."

The room once again fell into silence as Cascade stood just metres before Ivo.

"You're looking well," Ivo's throat felt dry as he spoke.

"You're not," Cascade replied with brutal honesty, though there was a gentle concern to her words. "Politics isn't your game, Ivo. Why are you still playing?"

Ivo's eyes fell to his feet. He had no answer.

"I know you're trying to make up for the past, but the world isn't what it used to be," continued Cascade. "Don't get yourself killed in the name of redemption."

Ivo's lips twitched as his eyes met Cascade's.

"I died a long time ago, Cascade."

Cascade closed her eyes for a moment, taking Ivo by surprise as she laid a hand on his arm. "That's what I was afraid you'd say. And that's why I still can't tell Linden who his real father is."

"How-how is Linden?" Ivo's voice cracked.

Cascade smiled. "He's the best kid you could ever meet. Far better than his parents. If I bring him with me to the Capitol you can meet him, if you'd like? Just don't tell him who you are to him."

Ivo drew in a long breath.

"I'm not doing this to punish you," Cascade explained, lifting her hand from Ivo's arm. "I'm doing it to protect Linden."

Ivo nodded. "No, I understand and I agree with you. Besides, I'm not exactly the best role model."

Cascade let out a small laugh. "And I am? I've killed people, Ivo, and not just out of necessity –I trained and volunteered for it. In fact, between everyone who is raising Linden we've killed what, thirteen people?"

She paused, her shoulders dropping.

"I just dread the day I have to tell him what I've done."

"It won't make a difference," insisted Ivo. "He'll love you just the same. Just as everyone else loves you."

Ivo quickly pressed his lips together before any further words left his mouth.

"I'll see you in the Capitol then," Cascade brought the conversation to an end, the stray hair that she had previously tucked behind her ear slipping out of place and falling across her cheek. Without thinking, Ivo's hand began to move to brush it aside, before he realised that he wasn't living in his past life any longer and retracted his hand.

Cascade didn't seem to notice Ivo's near disaster as she slipped out of the room, leaving Ivo alone in the wide, empty room.

Ivo leant backwards, his back resting against the wall as he faced the rest of the room.

Was he making the right decision by bringing back the Hunger Games? Could he really trust Cascade, Aella and Farley as much as he hoped he could?

But did he really have any other choice?

I want to change things. I want to give people hope. Real hope.

Those were some of the final words Aurelia ever said to Ivo. Throughout his years as President, he had clung to them as a lifeline to remind himself of why he was where he was. Of why he was who he was.

Aurelia Snow had once offered Ivo a chance at redemption, a chance to become the man he never thought he could be. And in her memory he had tried, oh how he had tried. He had tried so hard that he was drawn to the brink of self-destruction.

But would it be enough? He hoped so.

He really fucking hoped so.

Risa Delmare, Victor of the 86th Games

Risa hoped that every morning as her eyes flickered open that the last five years had been just a dream. A long, horrible nightmare.

And yet, whilst she still breathed and her heart still beat beneath her the ivory cage of her ribs, Risa Delmare was always reminded that the traumas she relived as she slept were not just the conjurations of nightmares, but were memories. Real life memories. Most likely memories that she would never forget, no matter how hard she wished.

Some days were better than others. There were days in which Risa could allow herself to relax and enjoy the life she had built around her. She would go to The Delmarian and help her father tend to the many books beneath its roof; she would curl up in the corner of a window seat with a book resting on her drawn knees; she would take long walks along the coast line and taste the fresh seafood from the markets. But there were also bad days. The days when she would wake up in cold sweats in the dead of night; when she would see a face in a crowd that looked exactly like one of the faces of the few she had killed in the arena; when she would feel the heat of a flame and remember how it felt to suffocate in a thick cloud of dark smoke.

There was a time when Risa had almost found herself slipping back into the skin of the girl she used to be, or at least the better parts of that girl. But since the President had darkened her doorway six months prior, of all the days that had past, Risa had counted more bad days than good.

Pulling an oversized sweatshirt over her head, Risa made her way down the wide staircase of her home in the Victors Village, a home she still resided in alone. Her bare feet padded gently across the polished wooden floors towards the kitchen, where she began to load up the blender with a handful of fruits, blitzing it into a fresh smoothie.

Sipping her fruity drink in one hand, with the other Risa picked up the book she had left on the kitchen table and flicked open to the page she had marked. It took her the rest of the smoothie to finish the chapter, and once she was finished, Risa returned the book to the table, rinsed out the glass and returned upstairs to get dressed into a pair of running leggings, a cropped shirt and some trainers.

At this time of morning, touching the latter side of sunrise, the District was quiet. Those who worked out on the seas would have already departed to fish before the light of day cast its rays across the surface of the gentle waves. The rest of the District would be awakening shortly, ready to face another day.

Risa had always preferred running when the streets were empty. Whilst she harboured no ill feelings towards people, and was comfortable enough to socialise, since returning from the arena she had found herself retreating further towards introverted tendencies. Words, as always, had been her greatest comfort and the majority of her time was spent with her nose nestled between the pages of a book. Her time outside was largely spent taking long runs, or sitting beside the ocean, watching the waves continuously crash against the side of the rocks that lined the shores.

It had been a peaceful life, besides the thoughts inside her mind, but it was a life Risa knew would not last forever.

In a week's time, Risa would find herself thrust back into the life she thought she had escaped and despite all she had gone through, it still terrified her.

In the peak of summer, the salty air was already warm as Risa made her way around the District, her feet lightly landing on the sandy roads. As her route reached the final stretch home, Risa tucked into the final energy reserves within her body, pushing herself up the incline until she was able to slow her run to a walk as she headed back into the village.

Wiping the sweat that was clinging to her hairline, Risa squinted in the rising sun's light as she noticed a figure standing in front of her door.

"Risa!" called the elaborately accented voice of her escort, Indira, as Risa approached the house. "Where have you been? Oh, you've been running. I honestly don't understand the appeal of exercise, I really do not."

"Morning, Indira," Risa greeted her, though her eyebrows quickly knitted into a frown. "As lovely as it is to see you, why are you here? The Reapings aren't for another week."

"The interview, Risa!" Indira exclaimed. "Did you not receive my message? You're to do a home interview with the new Master of Ceremonies!"

Risa said nothing as she walked past Indira and unlocked the front door, heading inside.

"Risa, did you hear me?" Indira scuttled in behind her. "The interview!"

Risa sighed silently. "Yes, Indira, I heard you. I just need to shower first, do you mind waiting for a few minutes? Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen."

"Of course, no problem," said the escort, pinching her nose delicately. "You do smell rather a lot like sweat, so a shower would be excellent."

Taking the insult lightly, knowing that Indira meant no harm by it, Risa made her way up to the bathroom. Taking off her clothes, she stepped into the shower, scrubbing her sun-kissed skin with the homemade exfoliator she had picked up from one of the market stalls.

Once cleaned and dressed, Risa returned downstairs where she found Indira sat on one of the lounge chairs in the front room, chatting excitedly to the rest of her stylist team who must have arrived whilst Risa had been showering.

Risa greeted the two stylists with fondness.

"So what is this interview then?" asked Risa, fiddling with the white seashell she had taken into the arena with her. Despite all it had been through with her, the seashell was still smooth as Risa ran her fingertip across it.

"It's part of the pre-games countdown," explained Indira. "During the week leading up to the Games, the Capitol has a number of shows and events to build the excitement. Usually, as part of that, the Victor from the previous year is interviewed. They like to show the Victor at home before they return to the Capitol, so the cameras will be arriving here shortly. Are you sure you missed my message about this?"

"I guess I must have," admitted Risa, her stomach already tightening into a rope of knots at the thought of being thrust in front of cameras once more.

In the year following her victory, Risa had played the role of the perfect Victor, obeying every instruction of the sleazy Capitolite, Rawlins. Endless photoshoots, interviews, product advertising, parties and countless more materialistic events. Risa had detested every second of it, and yet she poured every ounce of effort into it for the sake of the boy from Twelve whose life depended on her performance.

Risa often found herself wondering what had become of Scout Summers. Was he still alive? Was he still haunted by the arena as Risa was?

After Rawlins' arrest, Risa had barely made any public appearances relating to her victory, other than the more recent public speeches where she would attempt to convince people that the return of the Games was for the benefit of Panem –a consequence of the uneasy alliance formed between her and President Ivo Castellanos. The thought of dressing up and reliving her Games in the public eye was not one that sat well with her.

And yet, she knew she had a part to play. A part she would continue to play to perfection.

It only took around an hour for the team to prep Risa for her television appearance, as they wanted to present her in a far more natural manner than Rawlins had previously insisted upon. With her dark hair gently waved down her back, subtle touches of makeup grazing her tanned skin and a simple summery cotton dress with open-toed sandals, Risa made her way outside of her home where she saw a host of cameras without cameramen gathered in the courtyard.

At the opening of the door, the Capitol anthem began to play, filling Risa with a horrid sense of déjà vu as she carefully walked down the front steps.

Standing in the marked spot, Risa smiled warmly towards the cameras, making a small wave with a wiggle of her fingers.

"Risa Delamare!" the sound of the new Master of Ceremonies, whom Risa had not yet met, echoed from the speakers. "My my, how you have grown into the most beautiful young woman!"

Risa continued to smile, accepting the compliment.

"Now, it is has been quite some time since we last checked in on you, Risa," continued the voice. "Tell us, what have you been up to?"

"A lot of reading," Risa answered honestly, before catching Indira's eyes. "Thanks to the generosity of the Capitol, my family's library has been rebuilt and I couldn't be happier for it."

"Oh isn't that precious!" squealed the interviewer with elaborate enthusiasm. "This is why we adore you, Risa. A girl with both the brains and the brawns –you truly are the perfect Victor."

Risa's hand behind her back tightened as her nails dug into her palms.

"Between us girls," the camera drew in closer, "can you share with me the intimacies of your love life? A girl as gorgeous of you must be spoiled for choice, yes?"

Risa sighed coyly. "Alas, I still have not found the person I wish to spend my life with. But I have my family and that is all that matters to me right now."

"So sweet!" cried the voice. "That is so beautiful, Risa, it truly is. Perhaps on your return to the Capitol you will meet that special someone?"

"Perhaps," Risa smiled, her jaw aching from the falsities.

"Before we must love you and leave you, I have one final question."

Risa steadied herself.

"What are your thoughts about the Games returning after so many years?"

It was the question Risa knew would come.

"I couldn't be more pleased," she lied, though convincingly. "The Games made me who I am today, and I'm grateful for it. Panem has suffered without the Games, and I believe with their return will also come prosperity for both the Capitol and the Districts."

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" agreed the interviewer, as the Capitol anthem began to play once more. "Just a quick catch up today, Risa, but we will be chatting with you again as the Games draw nearer. It's been a pleasure. Risa Delmare everyone, the Victor of the eighty-sixth Hunger Games!"

Risa maintained her smile as the cameras backed away, but the moment they shut down and the anthem stopped, she felt a sudden wave of nausea overcome her. A sickening sense of repulsion at the act she had just put on, paired with the mounting anxieties of what the next few weeks would bring was enough to send Risa doubling over, vomiting into a small bush beside her house.

"Are you alright, Risa?" Indira rushed beside her, thrusting a glass of water in her face. "Here, drink some water."

Taking the glass in her hand, Risa took a few mouthfuls, thanking Indira for the support. Though as much as she appreciated the concern, all Risa wanted –and needed –was some space.

"I just need to clear my head," Risa told Indira and the stylist team. "You're free to make yourselves comfortable in the house. I just…I need to think."

Leaving Indira behind her, Risa walked quickly away from the Victors Village. She kept her head low, avoiding as many people as possible as she headed towards the coast; to a smaller cove which had been a favourite place of hers throughout her childhood and adolescence.

When she arrived, the cove was empty other than the odd seagull poking around in the sand. Climbing down the wonky, sand-dusted steps, Risa kicked off her shoes, burying her toes between the soft grains of sand. She walked across the beach towards a cluster of rocks, where she perched herself at the edge just so her toes were dipped into the cool waters.

The cove was currently in the shade; the large rocks that surrounded it casting a shadow across the pocket of tranquillity; but it was still warm as Risa pulled her arms around herself.

"I thought I'd find you here," a voice Risa knew all too well spoke softly behind her.

Risa looked over her shoulder. Her best friend, Garcia Solum, stood with his hands pushed into his loose trouser pockets, his eyes lightly squinting as the gentle breeze rustled his hair across his forehead.

"Hey," Risa smiled softly.

"Hey, you," Garcia returned, dimples in his tanned cheeks appearing with his warm smile. "Can I join you?"

Risa shook her head. "Do you even need to ask?"

She shuffled to the side, leaving space for Garcia to sit beside her. As he reached the rock, he too kicked off his shoes to dangle his feet into the clear waters. Garcia smelt like fresh laundry as his arm skimmed Risa's skin; a clean, fresh scent and a familiar one too.

As teenagers, Garcia had always been of good stature, with broad, strong shoulders and muscular features. His years of training in the Academy alongside Risa had seen to that, but in his early adulthood he had grown into his body even more and a short, trimmed stubble lined his more angular jawline.

"You ok?" Garcia asked, his eyes softening as he looked at Risa. "I saw the interview; it was playing in the Academy."

"I'm always ok," Risa replied quietly, casting her eyes back across the calm ocean. "I have to be."

"You don't have to be around me," said Garcia, resting a hand over hers. "I know we've grown a little distant these past years, but I'm always here for you. I'm the same person I was before."

"I'm not."

A single tear broke down Risa's cheek.

"Hey hey," Risa felt a warmth against her skin as Garcia caught her tear, cupping the side of her face. "You're still you. I see you, Risa, I see you."

Unable to keep her emotions contained any longer, Risa lowered her guard, allowing her tears to flow freely as she buried her head into Garcia's chest, feeling his heart quicken in pace beneath the heat of his skin.

"I thought I'd put that part of my life behind me," Risa managed to say as her sobs trailed off. "But now it's back and I don't think I can go through it again."

"Hey, listen to me," Garcia said, pulling away so that Risa could see his face. "You are the strongest person I know, probably the strongest person in the whole of Panem. If anyone can get through this, it's you."

"But I…"

Garcia shook his head. "You know why I pulled out of volunteering, Risa?"

Risa dried her damp eyes with the back of her hand.

"I didn't volunteer because I couldn't stand the thought of not being in the world if you were still in it," he said with crystal clear honesty. "I knew that you'd walk out of that arena, no matter what. I wasn't afraid of death, but I was afraid that I would miss out on the rest of my life with you in it."

"I know I haven't been there for you like I should have been," Garcia admitted. "After everything that happened in the arena, and everything that happened afterwards, I guess I just thought you didn't need me anymore. I don't know, it's a bullshit excuse but it's all I got. And I'm sorry Risa, I'm really sorry."

Risa looked up towards Garcia, the shade darkening his deep features.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," she told him. "I've been distant too. I didn't want to burden you with my problems, not when you seemed to be doing so well for yourself with the Academy…"

"Risa, you could never be a burden to me."

When Risa looked into her best friend's eyes, as the two of them sat beside each other at the edge of the ocean, it was the first time she had noticed how beautiful he was. Risa had always been aware that Garcia was considered handsome; the attention he had received during their years of training had often become a focal point of teasing from Risa; and yet, she had never really realised it for herself.

His skin, perfectly kissed by the sun's radiance, with slight creases by the corners of his honest eyes from heartfelt laughter. His body with its carefully carved muscles, protruding and dipping in just the right places. His lips, plump with the softest of curves…

Without a further thought, which was a rarity, Risa felt herself leaning forwards, her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her lips softly against Garcia's.

After a moment which seemed to last a lifetime, Garcia's lips parted. Risa returned his kiss with a little more force, a quiet moan escaping her as she explored his mouth. Her hands soon found themselves tightening around handfuls of Garcia's shirt, pulling his body in closer. Garcia responded well, his strong hands sliding towards the small of her back and sending sparks of excitement up Risa's spine.

Risa had never experienced physical affection before, nothing like what she was experiencing in that moment at least. But she knew that she wanted more of it.

Loosening her grip on Garcia's shirt, Risa's fingers traced down towards his hips, where she felt her heartrate begin to triple its speed. Her kisses became faster paced as she pushed her body even closer towards Garcia's, her fingers now at the button of his trousers.

"Risa," Garcia spoke against her lips. "Hey, slow down there."

Risa pulled back in surprise, her mind fuzzy as she tried to reorient herself.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, biting her lower lip as she pulled her hands into her own lap.

Garcia laughed gently. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Hey, I've been hoping something like this would happen for a while, so don't be sorry there. I just don't want you to do anything you might regret."

"But I wouldn't regret it," said Risa, feeling as though for the first time she was looking at her best friend with her eyes wide open. "I never realised it until now, but I'm in love with you, Garcia."

"And I'm in love with you, Risa," returned Garcia without a single flicker of hesitation. "Which is why we can wait until you're feeling a little less emotional. You've had a tough day, and I don't think sex is what you need right now."

Garcia was right, of course. That only made Risa love him even more.

"The worst is behind you, Risa," Garcia spoke with positivity, wrapping his arm around Risa's shoulder as she rested her head into his chest. "It only gets better from here. We've got all the time in the world."

Risa believed him. She believed every word that her best friend said.

Scout Summers, Survivor of the 86th Games

Scout could not believe the words he was hearing.

"She's…missing?" he asked for the third time, hoping that he had somehow misheard the words that had been spoken to him.

Unfortunately, Trent Halbrik nodded his head. "There was a raid on some rebel hideouts in Twelve a few days ago. Apparently a few were shot, some arrested. No one has seen Shale since."

"Ebon," Scout automatically corrected Trent, before dropping his head. "Sorry, I just can't see her as anyone other than my sister."

"It's ok," Trent rested a comforting hand on Scout's shoulder. "I get it."

Scout smiled weakly towards his ally. "But she's not dead, though, right?"

"Well no one has found her body," Trent considered. "So there's every chance that she's alive."

That was enough for Scout to cling onto. He wouldn't usually consider himself to be a hopeful person, but when it came to his sister he could summon enough hope to motivate an army. Ebon had to be alive, she had to be.

If she wasn't, then neither was Scout.

The kitchen door suddenly swung open as Aella Castro stormed in, a thundering expression on her face as she ducked straight into the fridge, retrieving a bunch of grapes which she promptly began tearing violently from their stems. Cascade followed shortly afterwards, a frown set into her blemish-free forehead, and then completing the trio was Farley, who seemed to be unwillingly dragged into the domestic debate.

"Aella, I didn't say that I trusted him!" Cascade insisted, stopping on the opposite side of the long kitchen table to where Aella was stood, leant back against the counter. "In fact, I distinctly remember telling Ivo that I didn't trust him."

"Yeah that's what you said in front of us," Aella rolled her eyes, popping another grape into her mouth. "But who knows what you said when it was just the two of you alone."

Cascade huffed impatiently. "For the thousandth time, Aella, I was telling him about Linden. He is his father, you know."

"Wanna shout that any louder, Cas?" Farley interjected. "Linden could have heard that and I'm sure that isn't the way he'd want to find out the truth."

Cascade's face dropped from a look of agitation to a softer, regretful expression.

"Shit," she muttered, looking around the room. "Where is Linden?"

Cascade turned to Scout, who over the few years of Linden's existence had seemed to have adopted the role of babysitter for the young boy. It was something which Scout was fond of, in all truth. Children were a lot less complicated than adults, and carried a far lighter load of emotional baggage. With Linden, Scout had no need to hide his feelings; no need to pretend that he was content to live the life he had been awarded. It wasn't that Scout was ungrateful for being given the otherwise impossible chance to live his life; he just sometimes wondered whether there was any meaning to days he filled.

"He's with Gneissa and Tobin," Scout told her. "They went foraging down by the river."

Cascade sighed a breath of relief.

"If anyone is Linden's real father, it's Scout," Aella commented bitterly. "Not that lying, cheating, scruffy faced bastard who calls himself President."

Scout instantly and involuntarily found himself blushing at Aella's statement.

"I'm not saying that Ivo should be involved in Linden's life, I'm just—" Cascade cut herself off. "Actually, you know what? I'm done with this argument."

"Good, I'm done with it too!" retorted Aella as Cascade turned to leave the kitchen.

Before she could walk through the door, Farley held his arm across the doorway.

"Piss off, Farley," Cascade pushed his arm away. "You don't always have to be the hero, you know."

Farley opened his mouth, but then decided against speaking as he let Cascade storm further into the house.

"I'm going out," Aella announced, dumping the half eaten bunch of grapes on the kitchen table before using the other door, which led directly outside, slamming it behind her.

The three men who remained in the room exchanged eye contact.

"What did I miss?" Scout asked, looking between Farley and Trent.

Farley sighed heavily.

"After we met with Ivo, Cascade hung back to talk to him privately," Trent explained. "Aella clearly feels a little insecure about it all, with their past and that."

Farley scoffed. "If there's one thing Aella is not, it's insecure. She's just volatile and thrives off confrontation."

"I wouldn't say volatile," Trent disagreed. "From the short amount of time I've known you all, I can already see how much Aella loves Cascade. How much you all love each other, in fact. She just wants to protect the ones she loves."

Trent paused, twisting the ring on his finger.

"Not all of us get the chance to do that."

Scout felt his heart ache as he looked at Trent. Whilst he hadn't known Piken personally, he had been in the arena with him and had seen the fatal throw from Risa Delmare which had ultimately claimed his life. In a way Scout felt immense guilt around Trent, knowing that he and Piken could have easily have switched places had the smallest fraction of a decision had been made differently.

Why had Scout been allowed to live and Piken had not? Scout could not think of a single thing that could make his life worth more than his.

And yet, he lived.

"You're protecting people now," said Farley, with an encouraging nod. "Anyway, I'm gonna shower. See you later, yeah?"

As three became two, Scout made his excuses and left, the sense of guilt becoming too uncomfortable.

He wandered outside to his own little cabin, which he had built himself (with a little help from Farley when necessary, and of course, Linden's expertise in handing him tools). The household that had been patched together was one Scout was ever grateful for, but even after the years that had passed, he knew he still needed a place where he could think to himself.

The steady glow of the afternoon sun poured through the windows of the cabin. Scout squinted his eyes as he walked inside, tugging the plain sheet of fabric he used as a curtain across the glass panel.

The cabin was made up of one main room which held all of his basic necessities from a small bed, to a table and chairs, and a small kitchen. A separate bathroom was walled off with a lockable door just in case someone from the larger house opposite forgot how to knock.

It was very simple, but simple was exactly how Scout liked it. Even having experienced the lavish luxuries of the Capitol, Scout would have chosen a basic wooden shack any day. Despite all he had been through, Scout still tried his best to continue being the person he had always been. Minus the blood on his hands, he was, to some extent, the same boy from the Seam.

The one noticeable feature of the cabin, however, was the second bed that lined the back wall. A small table with a single drawer stood beside it, which Scout pulled out slowly.

A small corner of crumpled paper lay in the bottom of the drawer; the only salvageable remains of the note which Ebon had sent to him during his time in the arena. The words were unreadable, having been smudged when he had fallen into the pool in the finale of the Games, but the fact that Ebon had even touched the paper was enough for it to possess an incredible sentimental value.

Alongside the tearing of paper were a few other items which Scout had collected. Perfectly rounded pebbles, intrinsically shaped leaves; anything that he thought his brother Shale would have found fascinating made itself inside the drawer. Just as Scout had collected similar items and placed them on his brother's grave back in Twelve, he did so now, even though endless miles sat between him and home.

The spare bed was for Ebon, of course, though Scout knew that she may not ever lay her head upon the soft pillow he had laid out for her. Having first seen his sister in the flesh after the arena, just a few years ago, Scout had continued to keep his distance and maintain the lie that he had perished in the arena.

Following the meeting in which Ebon –or Shale, as she now went by –had first met with Farley and the other rebels in Two, Scout had wanted nothing more than to rush to his sister's side and show her that he was alive. But he was held back by risk. The risk of Ebon's life being in more danger than it already had been was enough to restrain his own desires and emotions. It had been excruciating; knowing that he could speak to his sister, but choosing to remain in the shadows.

But now? Now Scout did not even know whether his sister was alive.

At least before he knew where she was; Farley and Trent held good connections with the factions of rebels which were spread throughout Panem, and between them they kept Scout informed of her movements. But with the news of her disappearance, Scout was no longer comfortable with sitting on the side-lines.

He needed to find her.

Pulling out a backpack from under his own bed, Scout began to fill it with essentials. He decided he would leave after the others had left for the Reapings in a few days; that way they wouldn't even know he was gone until it was too late. Leaving Linden would be hard, but he knew that where he was going would not be a place safe enough for a young child. He suspected that Cascade may even take Linden with her to the Capitol, under the guise that he was Farley's son (a plan they had mentioned before, as additional protection to avoid the connection being drawn between him and Ivo), or else remain under the care of Gneissa and Tobin. Scout hoped that he would return, if not to see Linden's innocent smile, but he knew very well that he may not.

There was a soft knock at the door.

Scout turned around, walking apprehensively to the door and opening it.

It was Trent, stood with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he shuffled from foot to foot.

"Trent?" Scout looked at him.

"Hey," Trent smiled quickly. "Can I…can I come in for a second?"

Scout nodded, stepping to the side to allow Trent to come inside.

"What's up?" asked Scout, hoping Trent wouldn't notice the half-packed bag on his bed.

"I think I know where your sister is," said Trent, getting straight to the point.

Scout's heart skipped a beat.

"I've heard talk about hidden prisons where those who speak out against The Candid are taken," Trent told him. "It could just be a rumour, but there's someone who claims to have escaped one of these prisons."

"I need to speak to them," said Scout instantly. "Where are they?"

"It could just be a rumour, Scout," said Trent. "You could be wasting your time."

Scout ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. "I've wasted five years of my life, Trent. I'm not going to waste a day more. Not if…not if Ebon needs me."

Trent looked at him with understanding. "Which is why I've already arranged for us to meet with them. We leave in a few days, just after the others leave for the Reapings."

"We?"

Trent nodded. "I'm coming with you, of course."

Scout seemed sceptical.

"Look, you won't get far on your own, trust me," insisted Trent. "I've been doing this for a while now, I know how to get around. You need me, just like Ebon needs you."

Scout couldn't argue with Trent's logic.

He nodded.

"Ok, deal," agreed Scout. "But if things go wrong, you've got to promise me that you get yourself out, alright? I can't have any more people die because of me."

Trent hesitated, but then slowly nodded.

"Deal."

As Trent left the cabin, Scout lay his fingers against the frayed bracelet on his wrist; the same bracelet that Ebon had given to him the day he had been reaped.

Scout may have been unable to save his brother Shale, but he would not make the same mistake twice.

He would find Ebon, or he would die trying.

A/N

A lot to unpack in this first subplot chapter (excluding the prologues, of course). But hopefully this helped to set up a large portion of the storylines that are to develop as the story continues behind the scenes of the Games.

For the first time in many years, Ivo has returned to his district of origin, District Two. He notes that he has changed a lot since he left home, but are those changes good, bad, or a combination of the two? Celeste remains an involved character, regaining her job as PA, but to Ivo instead of Aurelia. Her brother, Muriel, still seems to be missing; is it safe to presume he is now dead? Will Celeste ever find out what happened to him? Ivo then is brought face to face with Cascade, Aella and Farley, where they come to an agreement to return to the Games as mentors. Was this a wise decision, and is there a safe alliance between them and Ivo? We are also introduced (or reintroduced, for those who have read CoT) to Trent, the boyfriend of a previous tribute, Piken, who plays a larger part later in the chapter. Finally, Cascade and Ivo talk about Linden, and share a caring moment. Do any feelings linger between them, or is it simply a matter of mutual respect after all they've been through? Has Ivo really changed, and will he be able to honour Aurelia's memory?

Moving towards District Four, and we check back in on Risa. Since being made aware of the return of the Games, our recent Victor is not feeling so good. The memories of the Games are coming back to haunt her, as are the days she lived as 'the perfect Victor' under the control of Rawlins. How will Risa cope being thrust back into the spotlight, and will she make a good mentor for Circe and Cephus? She certainly has her work cut out with them for sure! After a nauseating interview, Risa rushes to the beach to think about her life, and is reunited with her best friend, Garcia. Over the years the two of them drifted apart, but Garcia is keen to make amends. After a wholesome conversation, things turn romantic as Risa realises that she is in fact in love with her best friend, as he is with her. Garcia, being the best friend he is, prevents Risa from going too far and insists that the worst is over. Is it?

Finally, we touch base with the other survivor of the last Games, Scout Summers. Hearing more from Trent, we learn that Scout's sister Ebon is missing following a raid on a rebel hideout. Is she still alive? The two are interrupted as Aella and Cascade engage in a fight; will they make up? Scout then returns to his cabin, where he decides that he is going to find Ebon. However, Trent has already made plans to track her down and tells Scout that he has heard rumours of hidden prisons. Are they simply rumours? What will Scout and Trent uncover as they search for Ebon?

I am so excited for the subplot to develop, as well as getting stuck into the pregames for the tributes. The next chapter will be a reaping chapter, which will be a little different to what I have done in the past. The chapter will run with 12 short POVs, each being the mentor for the districts as they observe the Reapings unfold. I thought this would be a fun way to showcase every tributes reaping without making things too repetitive, and we will also get a chance to have a brief insight into the minds of our mentors. I hope it will work out well!

Thank you to all who have reviewed and hyped things up in discord! Also, thank you everyone who has voted in the poll so far! The poll will remain on my profile for a little longer, so if you haven't had a chance to vote yet then there's still plenty of time!

Also, if you fancy having a little peek, you'll see that there has been a new page added to the MoS blog...

amaskofshadows . weebly .com

Until next time!

Firefly