Clara and Grantaire

Clara watched with amazement as the doors slid automatically behind her. Part of her was in awe at the impossible technology, part of her couldn't escape the nagging feeling it was locking her in.

She looked around the train trying to distract herself from the scene she had just been dragged away from. Courfeyrac had tried to be strong, but the realisation this could be the last time he saw the girl he had rescued from the woods was too much for him.

It was Harry and Freddie who had led the girls into the room at the back of the Justice Building. Harry, always the more confident of the two enveloped Clara in a hug that she never wanted to come out of. Shy, reserved Freddie even attempted an awkward but nonetheless sweet embrace.

Clara bent down to bring Cosette and Posie into an three-way hug, both girls had been told by Harry and Freddie they mustn't cry, but Posie had always been a sensitive soul, she couldn't keep a tear from rolling down her cheek. Cosette on the other hand was used to hiding her pain.

After making Harry promise to look after the family, she let the peacekeeper drag her away, not even asking why Courfeyrac hadn't joined them.

The train was filled to the brim of food not even the whole of District 12 could have consumed in one sitting. She needed to eat but she knew if any substance entered her body it would immediately come back up again. She felt sick, she felt scared, but most of all she felt regret. Not for her actions, but for not being able to explain to everyone why she had volunteered. But the letter had been perfectly clear; she couldn't afford to let anyone know.

The doors opened again, and the boy she was to share the arena with entered the carriage. He was determined not to look her in the eye. He couldn't have felt more embarrassed. He knew everything there was to know about this girl. Her family, where she worked, her likes, her dislkes, what she did with her weekend, and he doubted she even knew his name.

'Grantaire?'

Okay, so maybe she did know his name. it had just been announced in front of the whole of District 12.

Still he said nothing, he pretended to look at the banquet lying on the table, despite him having very similar feelings to Clara regarding the whole food matter. She didn't give up though.

'I'm Clara,' she said, as if she needed to introduce herself.

Still Grantaire said nothing, his mind drifted to his mother. She would have no one now.

'Look it's a long train journey, you can't ignore me for all of it.'

Finally Grantaire looked around.

'Hey,' was the only word his mouth could formulate.

'Well that's something,' Clara encouraged.

Grantaire couldn't help but smile. You couldn't help yourself around Clara, it was her charm that drew people in, and her gentle demeanour that kept them there. Grantaire turned away again.

'Please, let's not go backwards,' begged Clara.

Grantaire had no choice but to turn back around. The hurt that had slipped through in Clara's voice was enough to make an ice heart melt.

'Sorry, bad day,' he simplified.

'Tell me about it,' Clara smiled sympathetically. 'And I thought a day selling in the Hob was challenging.'

Grantaire wanted to ask her why she had volunteered. Of course, it was the question on everybody's lips. Including a heartbroken boy in District 2. But he had more sense than that. If and when Clara wanted to tell him, she would. But first he had to decide whether he could let himself be friends with her.

He knew he wouldn't be coming back. He knew equally well Clara only had a marginally better chance. She had the sweetest disposition of anyone he knew, and when Cosette found a spider in her bed, Clara had insisted on bringing it outside in an old jar. He couldn't imagine her killing anyone any more than he could imagine himself doing it. They were both doomed, but they might as well go down together.

Funnily enough, these were the exact thoughts tumbling through Clara's mind, and they shared a moment of understanding. For now, they could get along. For now, they could be friends.

A hiccup introduced Haymitch into the room.

'Good morning, boys and girls,' he announced, clearly already on the liquor.

'Hey,' Clara and Grantaire said at the same time, sharing a grin.

'Oh for god sake,' Haymitch grumbled.

'Whiskey's down the other end of the table,' Grantaire pointed out, familiar with drunk old men.

'Not that, but I like the way you think son,' Haymitch winked. Grantaire shuddered.

'You guys aren't 'in love' or anything are you?' he asked.

'Excuse me,' Clara coughed, with strictly more surprise and shock than was necessary.

'The simultaneous 'Hey'' Haymitch mocked.

'No,' Clara confirmed, 'were just…' she paused, not sure how to finish that sentence.

'Friends,' Grantaire completed for her. 'Good friends.'

'Exactly,' Clara smiled.

'Good, that's good for the arena,' Haymitch said, almost losing his balance leaning on an armchair.

'Know each other, but no serious attachment. Good,' he said again.

'Your not hoping for a victor, are you mate?' Clara asked. 'Because I'm afraid you certainly don't have one in me.'

'Nor me,' Grantaire added.

Haymitch looked surprised. 'Usually it takes me the entire training expedition to get my tributes to admit to that. You two have just saved me a lot of time. Let's have some fun, live a little,' he said, grabbing a bottle of alcohol. I'm not even sure he knew what it was.

'Fancy going to the back? The train will be off soon,' Grantaire coaxed Clara away from Haymitch.

'Good idea,' Clara agreed.

The room at the back of the train was nice and simple. A beige sofa with purple cushions, and the symbol of the capital stictched on to the front. But if you flipped that over the symbol was nothing but a distant memory.

Clara and Grantaire remained in silence as the train pulled away from the station. They watched their home fade into the background, and an array of forest surrounded the track.

'Who are you leaving behind?' Clara broke the silence.

It was such a direct question, Grantaire found himself answering, and that was Clara's intention.

'My mum, Rose,' he replied with sadness.

'What's she like?'

She didn't ask if there was anyone else, where was his father, what about his friends. Grantaire was grateful for that. Clara knew that people will only ever tell you what they feel comfortable with, and what they want you to know. Never anything more, never anything less. Grantaire wanted to talk about his mother, and Clara was content to listen.

'Incredible,' Grantaire said looking down. 'Looks nothing like me, thank goodness.' Clara couldn't help smirking.

'She's always done right by me, my father was a lost cause,' he found himself telling her. 'But it's always been me and Mum, and that's all I ever want it to be.'

'Sounds perfect,' Clara said wistfully. Grantaire quickly moved her thoughts along.

'What about you? What are you leaving behind?' As if he didn't already know.

Clara was silent for a very long time. When she finally gave her response it broke Grantaire's heart.

'My world.'

They were never going to be too comfortable in each other's company, it was too painful of a reminder of what was to come. But their last link to 12 was each other, and if these were to be their final days, they had to make them count. Grantaire reached out and took Clara's hand. She jumped a little but didn't pull away.

'It's you and me against the world,' he said gently. 'We'd better put up a hell of a fight.'

'Together?' she asked, not meeting his eyes.

'Together,' he confirmed. 'Let's show everyone what 12 can do, because when two of us form a team, no matter who we fight against..'

'With all we have to fight for,' Clara interrupted.

'There is a chance that the odds will be in our favour,' finished Grantaire.

Clara took a deep breath.

'Let the 70th Annual Hunger Games begin.'