Home, they'd said. She had to go home.

But it wasn't home, not really. Home was in the alleys of Two, scrounging for bread before she'd spend afternoons and evenings over at Bellator's or Marble's with a dozen other kids. Learning how to kill, nothing more and nothing less. It was for her benefit, she'd been told. She'd believed.

Home back then was a mess, complicated and dirty. Home now was a new, overly clean manse perched on the edge of a cliff, the balcony railings a little too high to climb and the windows a little too tough to break. The view down to the city below was extraordinary, the old Victor's houses she'd spent most of her life in between sixteen and now replaced by nice apartments for good citizens.

Home now was hours of lethargic boredom, followed by a few minutes of vibrant fun when Marble, or Bellator, or both would come to visit. Home now was warm fires as the winter began to wrap an icy hand around the city, squeezing and squeezing. It was far from the bitter winters she'd known as a girl on the streets, and even further from those she only remembered from her youth. The snows of ash and smog, black and thick, coating the city as shells dug into buildings. As mama and papa told her to run and not look back.

She wished they could see her now.

Marble bursts through the door, looking at Nike (swaddled in a blanket) with some exasperation. "I told you you had stuff to clean up for!" The man is 23, barely, but sounds more like an old grandmother as he fusses around. "They're almost here, and you're not cleaned up or properly dressed, and. This is a nightmare."

"Who's not here? Marble I'm not in the mood for another of the Mayor's..." Her petulant tone is cut off, the man shaking his head. "Not the mayor, Nike. Not even close, thank the Capitol."

"Then who?" The curiosity in her tone betrays interest, Nike trying to act nonchalant. Failing to act nonchalant.

"Peers." The word sparks no recognition to Nike, and the girl of 18 pushes off the heavy blanket with a mournful huff. "Who?"

Marble shakes his head. "Montmartre. Taylor. Ler. As many of the others as those three were able to round up in time. Coming in to check on how you're getting on, prepare you for your visit to the Capitol, all that mess."

"And why should I want them to come? I killed some of their kids, more than some. Maybe I don't want to face them?" Her words aren't cut off this time, tone returning to petulancy as she leans forward. Marble presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose, breathes out. "Because they're your colleagues, Nike. They're the men and women you'll face, year on year, and tell them you're sorry, or let them tell you sorry. Mags brought this up, and I can't disagree. Either we all stand together or all fall alone, and I've done enough falling."

A few seconds pause. The tapping rain outside is audible, and finally a sigh of assent is heard and she stands up. "Well ok, then. If it goes south, though, you and Bell can clean up. I'm not taking any responsibility for that."

Marble's laugh is audible. He throws his head back, barks it out, and nods. "Sounds like a deal to me, then. You keep your cool, though. I don't want an incident. I know at least half of them carry some kind of stabbing utensil around, and I think we're going out for dinner. No issues, ok?"

A reluctant bob of her head, and the man stands. "I'll be outside if you need me, yeah? Get dressed nice, or Nutmeg'll have a new wardrobe done by next week. He's done it for Ruby twice this year."

"Wait, but doesn't Miss Montmartre..."

"You really think she picks her own clothes? I know for a fact the kid has to help her with basic selection, and that's not even counting this kind of event. She does have good taste in cloaks, though."

A roll of Nike's eyes, and Marble is gone. She finds him, as he promised, outside. He's dressed nicely, long coat over his suit and wide-brimmed hat perched happily on his head. It's a smart choice considering the weather, and in her jeans and blouse (with cardigan and jacket) Nike feels decidedly underdressed. The outfit gets a nod from Marble, though, and given Bellator's coming up the slight hill between her house and is now dressed in a tracksuit, she's fine.

The walk down to the station, on the edge of town, is sedate. The mountain path is broad and smooth, and the two checkpoints manned by armed Peacekeepers see them waved through on facial recognition alone. This prompts a disapproving mutter from Bellator, who gets an elbow in the ribs from Marble. "Come on, Bell, lighten up. No politics. It's Nike's big day, let her have some fun. Besides, not like Two's any real danger."

"I still think it's sloppy. Were I Ravenstill."

"You're not. Now lighten up. That's an order, soldier." A laugh passes between them, and Nike stands off to the side until Bellator claps a hand on her shoulder. "So, Nike. What do you think?"

"A-About what, Bell?" "Why, about the Peacekeepers. Don't you agree that they need to have checked our identification?" A curt nod, and he smiles. "Come on kid, loosen up. You're going to need to, trust me. This lot isn't exactly calm at the best of times.

The trio reaches the station at roughly the same time as the train from the Capitol is arriving, a small group disembarking from the front carriage all bearing bags. After a few moments dithering they set off towards the entrance, chatting among themselves.

Ruby's the first to arrive, seizing Nike with arms wrapped around the girl as she offers a kiss on the cheek. "Oh, Nike, it's such a joy to meet you properly! We weren't exactly introduced, and after the arena I can't deny it could have gone... poorly?" This question is fleeting, though, and Ruby's soon replaced by an "Alright, mate?" from Oceanus. A tense hello from Nutmeg, a frowning nod from Criollo. The greetings continue.

"Now, shall we get underway?" This is from Rye, Nine nodding as he stands up. "I understand Marble's booked out a nice restaurant for dinner?"

Marble nods, and Nike lets out a confused yelp. "Marble! Really, you didn't have to go to all the trouble. Really." A gentle shove, and Marble's rolling his eyes. "Nike, you earnt it. A nice night out with all of us, we can relax and you can learn a bit about the future."

This statement drew a little hint of curiosity, but two hours later Nike found herself sandwiched between Ampere and Mags, the latter laughing as she explains a situation she'd found herself in with a would-be sponsor.

"But he was seeming more and more interested, and I was reading signs completely the wrong way. So his boyfriend comes in, and finds me half leaning over the seat in this guy's face! That took a lot of explaining." A round of polite laughter passes over the round of shots Bellator had called for, before each of them takes a small glass in hand and eyes another, smiling. Criollo takes the lead, tones unyielding yet somehow invitingly warm. "Well, this has been a pleasant evening. So, a toast! To friendship."

The glasses are drained, and a second round soon provided. Perry takes this one, slipping over his own words. "To, to, to Jackson and Lucy! Such a shame they couldn't be here. Still, at least we're here, right?" The alcohol burns Nike's throat as it slips down, but she's used to it after two hours and a lot of food.

The laughter this time is more subdued, but still stands. A third round, glasses filled with a glassy blue liquid, is set down. The owner of the restaurant, a Capitolite of course, stands next to them. "This is tradition, back where I'm from. No hands, or I'll upcharge the bill."

A set of good-natured laughs, before the group does indeed put wrists behind their back, and bend down, Marble speaking before they partake. "To Nike. I'm sure we all had hopes, but we're an open group. And I wouldn't have it any other way!"

The liquid goes down. Mostly down people's top halves, but at least some down throats. Perry coughs as the glass slips down into his mouth, pulling it out with a slightly disgusted look. After this, Oceanus waves off a fourth round from the stained tablecloth, the rest of the group looking at Nike with expectant eyes.

"So?" Rye breaks the silence. "How're we doing this?"

"District order would be best, of course!" This is from Ruby, Nutmeg nodding assent. "No, why don't we reverse it. Let us go first, for a change." Criollo, and Nike's eyes are flicking back and forth as other victors chime in, before Bellator bangs his head on the table. Whether drunkenness, humour or something else, it does get people to shut up.

"Well. This is our district, so here's my proposal. Start from Twelve, skip any district without people and also Two, then me and Marble go last?"

Last for what is the question on Nike's lips. This question is cut short by a golden haired young man stepping to the end of the table, smiling at her. She's a little off put, whether by smile or something else she can't tell.

"Coriolanus Snow, Miss Gardiner. Junior gamemaker, specifically focussing in our off season on Victor's affairs. I trust I'm not intruding?"

A begrudged chorus of 'No', and the man smiles. "Now, I'm here to inform you that you're expected to be present at the station at twelve sharp on Monday. You've got your tour, yes?"

Mags is the first to stand, eyes lancing down the table. "Tour to the Capitol, right? Not exactly much else."

Snow's smile is tight. "No. To Twelve. After your smash hit at the Capitol last year, we're letting the Victors tour the Districts first. See just how happy they are." His tone betrays some concern, but he keeps the smile on his face. "Mr. Homes will of course be welcome to accompany her, as will you Mr. Chase. The rest of you may catch up in your districts, don't want the attention taken off our new Victor, yes?"

He continues, voice gaining strength. "Besides. I did enjoy Mr. Chase's proposal. We'll do it that way, finish up here in Two. Do have a nice evening, and congratulations, Miss Gardiner."

The man leaves, and the Victors exchange glances. "What was that all about? Do you know? Was he meant to be here?" A slew of questions, and before long Bellator's fist slams onto the table.

"Enough! Now, Criollo, please."

The man nods amicably, taking out a wooden box from his bag. It's relatively square, and is slid over to Nike with a smile. "We've got you each something. Thought it was a better induction into our little circle than some meaningless welcome ceremony. Do feel free to open it now, I'd be a bit disappointed if you didn't."

Opening the box reveals a pair of glass bottles, filled with golden liquid. "Peach brandy. First of the season. Capitol's finally said I could get some, and we all need a drink now and again."

Stuttered thank yous are followed with gifts from each of the others. A loaf of bread in jest from Rye seems a bit underwhelming, until he follows it up with a book all about the history of Two. It's hardly the most unique sounding gift, but the thick cover and promises of internal maps suggest some value. He offers a smile, slightly apologetic but mostly friendly. "Saw how much you enjoyed sketching out the arena with your lot. Felt it was only appropriate you get some nice maps, either way."

"T-thank you, Mr. Clemens. I, I." "Oh, no worries. Perry?" Ampere is next, his gift boxed similarly to Criollo's. He doesn't speak much, doesn't need to past congratulating her. It is, however, a much smaller box, a beaten silver pendant and chain inside. A bobcat, one Nike fastens around her neck with a flash of the practiced, predatory smile that had won her sponsors. Her symbol, after all, and Nike already knows she's going to be wearing this yearly at a minimum. Some camera will have picked this up, and that means her personality for the Capitol will be maintained a little longer.

Nike scarce has time to stutter thanks before Mags and Oceanus offer their gifts. A joke, first. A swimsuit from Mags comes wih a laugh around the table, and Oceanus has brought a jar of the seaweed she'd tried in vain to avoid eating when it had been sent down as a gift, and Cho had convinced everyone they needed to try it. After some good-natured laughing, the real gift is brought out. An image of a nice dining set sculpted from the timbers of an old ship. The real thing, she's promised, is on its way. Plus, it would have been a little difficult to wheel in. "Don't worry about it, Nike." Oceanus speaks before he can thank it. "We do expect to eat at it at least once, though."

This draws a nod, Ruby and Nutmeg both leaning in. They're far less coordinated than Four was, each having brought a different gift, which (she's promised) are now installed up in her house. Ruby's brought a spice rack, one which apparently took a lot of effort to put together considering the lacking availability of some. It's a thought out gift, at least, not to say all of them aren't.

Nutmeg, meanwhile, has elected to provide Nike with a selection of winter attire. Coats, cloaks, everything she may need for the temperatures that he's been told ravage the city. It's another gift she doesn't know how to express thanks for, even when Nutmeg (as nervous-sounding as she feels) tells her that he's also included a hat - just in case.

A photograph of the hat, provided by a giggling Ruby, drags the table into hysterics, Nike last after a second of straight-faced disapproval. The neon green bobble really sells the whole aesthetic, after all.

Marble's about to laugh that maybe the Capitol should be sending a gift to their newest Victor, when the waiter drops by with a nervous smile, tapping him on the shoulder as Nike watches. "Ah, sir. Excuse me, sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to tell you that nice young man has signed off your bill for the night, government credit card."

"Well. Capitol's had their say, so I'd guess it's our turn?" Marble speaks, an Bellator nods. "Yeah. Best get on with it."

So, looking at Nike with expectant eyes, the two remaining victors raise a statue, setting it down on the table with a thud as polite applause erupts. A bobcat, cast in steel, perched on the top of a mountain. It's visibly heavy, and the little plaque beneath it bears her name. Her name, and the simple inscription, 'Victor of the 12th Annual Hunger Games'.

This is too much. Ignoring the confused looks from one half of the table, Nike moves to leave. Marble's standing, holding out his hands only for them to be brushed aside by her. She rushes Capitolites, ignoring the bite of cool air and the clamouring Capiolites who recognize her. Drawing her hood up, rushing across the street and then down the road, finding the gates of Center City's main park.

She doesn't heed the lock on the gates, scrambling over it and ignoring the pang of pain as her thigh impacts a decorative spike on the fence, not drawing blood. Falling onto the ground, the air is driven out of her lungs, before she begins to head deeper into the woods. Ignoring the twilight so like the one in her own arena, practically dancing from rock to rock until she reaches the river, setting her shoes down in it. Ignoring the water seeping into her shoes as they break the ice. Ignoring the biting cold wind, funnelled by trees and rocks onto her.

She can hear calls in he distance, from the direction of the road. Ignores them, because what good can come of it. Turns her gaze to the ice, tinged with blue as it stares back at her.

It takes almost an hour before she hears a crunching from the brush next to her. She leaps up, almost without thinking. Another tribute, a badger, one of those damn lizardish mutts from the games. Who knows what it could be?

With said thoughts, Bellator is a distinct disappointment. Still, he sits down next to her, looking into the stream pensively. At the ice, the ice where he can see the reflection of a killer. "So, kid. What caused this? Was it the statue?"

A mute nod, and he sighs. "My idea. Don't blame Marble. It's a nice statue, I'll give it that, but maybe not the best under the circumstances."

He sighs, looking at Nike expectantly. "So go on. What's your deal? Not just the statue, is it?"

She shakes her head, and hears a skitter as a stone is thrown into the iced-over river, now shrouded in darkness. "Then go on. What is it? And if I hear one more Mr. Chase you're following the stone."

This startles a laugh out of her, followed by a sigh. "Well. You know I had allies, right?"

"Yeah."

"I just. Well. I miss them, you know?"

"You killed two of them!" His exclamation is startled. "Sorry, sorry. Marble wouldn't like that reminder. Go on."

"Bell, I know I killed 2 of them. But I mean. It's small stuff. Like..."

A second, two, passes. Then she speaks. "Like... The ice. Down there. It's so nice and blue. Like Miranda's eyes. And I."

"Did what you had to do. Ok, Nike? Nothing more, nothing less."

"But I didn't! I could have not volunteered. I wouldn't have had to-" A hand is raised, cutting her off. Bellator's tone is deep as he speaks, concern threading into his tone.

"You would have been a slum rat for the rest of your life, Nike. Constantine as well. Dead by thirty-five if you were lucky. You both knew the risks." The young man (even if he's still older than her) leans in, rough hand on her shoulder. Offers a knowing now. "He'd be glad to know it was you. You know that, right? He'd have been fine."

"But it should have been him, not me! He would have been a good Victor, like you, and Miss... Mags? And Mr. Clemens, and all the rest, and" The shove startles her, Bellator's glare rough.

"I was hoping for him. I really was, you know that. But to get one of you back is a more than acceptable reward. Nike, you need to stop." The man leans in, disappointment evident on her face. "Firstly, drop the Mr and Miss. They're your colleagues now, we're your colleagues. First name basis will do fine. Secondly."

Receiving a nod, his tone gets slightly stronger. "You may not think you deserved to win. But you won. Nike, nobody here's going to complain about you winning, because one kid back is better than none. That was the original plan, you know? Ruby, Marble, Mags, myself. We would have won and been promptly shot. Prove the strongest among the Districts cannot escape the might of the Capitol."

"So own your second chance. Pick a talent, the Capitol will want something to air on the gossip programmes. Go out and do charity work, like Taylor, just don't be an insufferable shit about it like him. Help me and Marble do our thing. Hell, if you want to make a little shrine to your friends, do it. Remember them, fine, just don't tell anybody not a Victor that you've done so."

He sighs, before continuing. "I'd say we have fifteen minutes until Marble drags the rest over here. So, do you want to talk about them? Get some of the guilt off your chest? I'm all ears, kid."

"Well, there was Miranda, I said her. From One. And she was so pretty, and she was good with her sword. And given we'd gotten to know each other in training, well. We kinda teamed up." He nods, and she feels more emboldened. "And then I just, well. I had to do it, didn't I? And it was quick. Tomahawks were good for that. It was quick." A commiserative 'mhm', and a tinge of something explodes in her heart.

"And then Cho, well. He was fun. He was always the first to share what he got, and the first to volunteer to help. But the lizard-thing." "Salamander." is supplied, perhaps unhelpfully. "Yes, that, it came out of nowhere, and we couldn't do anything. He killed it, but, well. He was laughing when he died. Told us there was one secret he never told us."

This elicits a choked laugh from Bell, Nike turning to him with a glare. "What's so funny? He's dead!" "The secret," and he's barely getting the words out between gasps of laughter. "D-did you ever learn what Cho is short for?"

Her shocked eyes tell him that she doesn't, and his laugh is louder. "Anchovy. He was a bit worried about the response, we think. That's the big secret."

"You're joking."

"No. Parents must not have liked him very much."

It takes almost an hour for the rest of the Victors to find them, armed with everything from hot chocolate to umbrellas. Fully expecting to find Nike and Bellator having an argument, and they are. It's just the kind with ringing laughter, instead of shouting and crying.

"Got a thing for Ones, have you? Tell you what kid, next time we're in the Capitol."

"I am NOT going to the Silk Belt with you. Capitol above, Bell, that's not something I have any desire for."

"Look, it was just a suggestion, and."

"You may need to pay, I certainly don't!"

Another few minutes of this, and Nike swivels on her perch, eyeing Marble for a second before smiling. "Marble. Thank you, everyone, but I'm fine. Just needed some space."

A bevy of nods, and Ruby glances at Nutmeg. "Well, this was lovely. I don't know about you all, but we have a train to catch. Nike, it was a pleasure. We'll see you in One, right?" Nike finds herself seized in a brief embrace, before Ruby straightens back up. "Until then."

"Until then, Ruby." The words send a small smile to Bellator's lips, not that anybody notices him from his seat.

A volley of goodbyes, and promises of catching up on her tour, and then the Victors are gone into the night.

Marble gives Ruby his own embrace, stepping back and holding her shoulders, looking her up and down. He doesn't ask what happened, why she ran, what the issue is. Instead, he gives his own small smile, and that's enough. "So, what's this about the Silk Belt, I mean, after the Eleventh, Bell, you want to go back?"

"Don't you dare!" The words are snarled out, and Nike gives a giggle. "Oh, you should dare."

"Well, it all started when we'd been dismissed for the year." The words continue even as they head into the fog, towards the restaurant to collect everything and then home. Nike gives one last look, back to the river. The ice sits there. Doesn't stare back.

Six months later

The sun beats down on the group taking their daily walk. Nike, Marble and Bellator, laughing as they take steps along the edge of the cliff, Nike performing for the other two as she bounds down the cliff in a 'faster route', dipping into a bow at the end. A round of applause is drawn from both men, and she skips back up to them.

"Thirteenth soon. Do you think Lisa and Minos are ready?"

A grave nod from Marble, a more jolly one from Bellator. "Of course. Shame we don't have a better training center, something we could make bigger and better out of."

They're walking beneath the Peacekeeper training centre, now. The old one, at least, stone citadel dominating the valley. Not that it was in use now, peacekeepers trained on duty now. Without further ado, though, she points up at it, hand shaking.

"You see that, Marble? Bell? Up on the cliff."

A pair of affirmative nods, and Nike gives a little smile.

"Lets make something out of that."

Author's Notes

Well, this is the official start to the idea of training academies. Their benefits won't come for a few years (reconstruction takes a while), but the idea's there, and that in itself is a pretty landmark moment!

Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone who's continued to read this - knowing that people are doing so significantly brightens up my day! Special thanks to my reviewers - given at least some of you are FFN authors yourselves, I'm sure you know the feeling of getting a nice review! If you'd ever like to chat, feel free to PM me - I can't respond to reviews, unfortunately.