A/N: Warning, this chapter contains suicidal thoughts.

The twenty tributes were poofed to Panem by the power of Tales's mind, where they were then gathered on a train and transported to the Capitol. During the ride, the characters who so wished had plenty of time to converse with each other.

"Why did you volunteer? You're no fighting man. Forgive me for saying this, but you're a complete coward. You'd probably be killed within two minutes." Esmeralda looked at Pierre puzzlingly.

Pierre grinned. "I take no offense at being called a coward, for that is the truth. In the past, I fled in fear for my own life when I should have been more concerned about you." His expression turned serious. "I have resolved I will not let that happen again. If Frollo were to be in the arena with you, you wouldn't stand a chance. It's the least I can do to spare you the anxiety of having him as a competitor. Which brings me to ask you this: would you like to be allies when we get in the arena?"

"Is that even allowed?" Esmeralda asked.

"From what I've researched on previous Games, they're unofficial, but quite common among the tributes from wealthier districts. The Fandom Games are a free-for-all with pretty much no rules, as long as you don't do anything that displeases the Gamemakers."

"Sure, let's be allies!" Esmeralda agreed. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve—-well, down my skirt." She raised the hem of her dress.

Pierre's eyes widened until he saw the dagger strapped to her ankle. "Have you actually used that thing before?"

"Well, no…"

"Great Belin, I thought I was done with battles and fighting and violence! But a Fflam is always ready for action! To tell the truth, I've sort of been longing to once again be in the heat of a fight! I hold up quite bravely—-"

A string on Fflewddur's harp trembled and threatened to snap. "That is to say, I can fight when necessary, but I much prefer to avoid conflict when I can," the bard-king quickly amended.

Eowyn stood on the rearmost car on the train, leaning against the guardrail. She had made sure no escorts had noticed her going off by herself. Gripping the rail tight, she looked down at the endless track whizzing by.

Boromir came out then and saw how she was holding onto the railing and leaning forward. "Don't jump," he warned.

"Why not?" Eowyn asked. "Wouldn't it be better to jump off this train than be forced to fight to the death for the purpose of someone's sick idea of entertainment? I want to die on my own terms!"

Boromir grabbed Eowyn around the waist and lifted her off of the railing. He pulled her back inside the car and shut the door. "I promised Faramir I would protect you. I can't do that if you commit suicide. Think of what it would do to your family! Faramir would be devastated. And then he would kill me. You're going to go home. I'm going to make sure of it."

"But what about you?" Tears were starting to well up in Eowyn's eyes. "There can only be one victor."

"Better you than me," Boromir said. He smiled. "Besides, I'm already dead anyway."

"But you were brought back for these Games," Eowyn said. "You can't die twice!"

"Who's to say I can't be brought back twice?" He held Eowyn to his chest. "It's gonna be okay."

Eowyn sniffled back tears. Boromir let her stay in that position, with her head resting on his heart, his protective arm around her, as long as she needed.

Cato and Clove sat next to each other on the train ride, but passed most of it without speaking. Finally, Clove brushed Cato's hand with hers and said, "It's almost like we're getting a second chance."

Cato turned his head to look at his district partner. "I feel the same way. A second chance—-not just at being the victors."

Clove waited for him to finish his thought. It was a full minute before she realized she would have to pry it out of him. "What else is it a chance to do?"

"To do things right. To not let you down."

Clove scoffed and waved her hand. "We've been over this, Cato. it was just as much my fault for lingering over killing Katniss as it was yours for not getting to me in time. The blame was all on me, if anything."

"No, I'd rather accept my guilt."

A short pause, then Clove spoke again. "What would we have done in the end if we were the last two alive? The rule change was revoked with Katniss and Peeta. Could one of us have been able to kill the other?"

"I don't know."

"What if we get to the top two in the Fandom Games? What will we do?"

Cato looked at her freckled face, dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and hazel eyes. Just how much did Clove mean to him? "I don't know."