Like a river to the sea

I will always be with you
And if you sail away
I will follow you
~ Phil Collins, "One More Night"

Zhenya Katolin, 18, District 2 Male

Zhenya watched Florin's interview from the living room couch and swore he felt his heart both soar and leap out of his chest when he heard the poem. He instantly knew that it was about him. Someone had written a poem abouthim! Excitement and terror swirled inside of him like a tornado from back home. Florin would no doubt be waiting for him on the roof, waiting for an answer. Zhenya didn't blame him. Even if ... whatever it was they had wasn't meant to be, Zhenya knew he needed to tell Florinsomethingso that he wasn't running blind tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning ...The reminder of the arena and certain death for one of them loomed unnervingly over him. He sunk deeper into the cushions and buried his head in his hands. He knew what his district and his allies expected of him, but it all felt so wrong. His heart and his head were tugging him in different directions, and it made his stomach churn.

Whatwashe going to do? What was he going to tell Florin? All Florin wanted was for Zhenya to be happy. He made that perfectly clear in his poem, but he also wanted to know what to do when the gong rang.

"Are you alright?"

Zhenya jolted out of his thoughts and looked up to see Cael standing in the partition that separated the dining room and living room. He hadn't heard the elevator car arrive over the sound of his own thoughts...

"I'm..." Zhenya's voice trailed off before he could say the word that usually came after. He was not fine. He was a mess.

"I..."

He tried again, but no words came out.

Cael frowned briefly and straightened his scarf. "I'll be right back." He went into the kitchen before Zhenya could say anything and returned a few minutes later with two mugs. Steam drifted from them, filling the air with the pleasant smell of spices and honey. Cael then sat down next to Zhenya on the couch and held out one of the mugs to him.

"Warm milk with honey," said Cael. "My husband's go-to calming beverage."

Zhenya took the mug and raised it to his lips. The milk tasted amazing, withcinnamon, turmeric, and a dash of pepper to balance out the honey.

"Is this about Florin?" Cael asked after a moment.

Zhenya hesitated and his hands tightened around his mug.

"It's okay," said Cael. "You don't have to talk about it. But if you want to, I'm here. I can stay as long as you need me."

Zhenya looked up at his stylist and took a deep, shuddering breath. Cael was from the Capitol. He was his friend and had been nothing but kind and understanding towards him since he arrived. Yes, if anyone would understand, it would be Cael.

"I want to ally with him," Zhenya began. "I like him. I like him a lot, but ... I just ..."

"You're not just worried about what your allies will think, are you?" Cael asked gently.

"I grew up hearing some pretty nasty things about ... people who are different. I was so scared that they'd find out who I was, and that..." Zhenya shook his head. "The people here are so kind and accepting. I can be myself here. Iwasmyself, on that stage. But if I win, if I go home, then I won't be able to be that anymore, if they'll even accept me. I just ... I don't know what to do, Cael."

Cael reached out slowly and squeezed Zhenya's shoulder. "Zhenya, I believe in you. You're skilled, you're strong, and the Capitol loves you. I know you can win these Games. I have no doubt in your ability, but ... there's still a chance that, through no fault of your own, things might not work out. You might not come out of that arena. If being with Florin makes you happy, then you need to chase that happiness. You might not get another chance."

"But what about the people back home? If I do win, what if they don't accept me?"

"Then screw them. If they can't love you for who you are, then they don't deserve you. And you have people here who support you. You have a safety net if you need it. I told Lars all about you. He's more than happy to help if you need it. So am I."

"I managed to convince the others that Florin isn't a threat," said another voice.

Zhenya looked up, his eyes growing wide with fear when he saw Macha. "How much did you––"

"Shut up and listen," said Macha, not unkindly. "The others won't target Florin tomorrow. At least, they better not. If you want to go with him, do it. The chaos at the Cornucopia should cover your escape."

Tears began to form at the corners of Zhenya's eyes. "Macha, I ... I don't know what to say. Why are you doing this?"

Macha sighed. "Because I know what it's like to have to hide behind a mask. It's no way to live. Now get up to the roof and ... I dunno, kiss him or something. I won't say a word."

Cael gave Zhenya a warm smile. "Go," he said. "And I'll see you tomorrow."

Zhenya nodded and stood up, making a beeline to the elevator and pushing the button to the roof.

Much to his relief, Florin was still there when he arrived, sitting on the same bench as the other night. He looked over to Zhenya upon hearing the doors open and smiled. "You actually came."

Zhenya chuckled. "Yeah, well, I couldn'tnottalk about that poem of yours. You looked great up there tonight." He walked over to the bench and sat next to Florin as close as he dared.

"So did you." Florin scooted closer and Zhenya felt electricity run up his arm as their hands brushed. "I didn't mean to pressure you. I just needed a plan for tomorrow, that's all."

"No, I understand. Look, when the gong rings tomorrow, grab a bag and get out of there as fast as you can. Macha told me the other Careers shouldn't target you, but don't risk it. I'll grab a weapon and I'll find you as soon as I can, okay?"

Florin's smile began to shake. "I ... I should feel better, knowing that but... I'm scared, Zhenya. I don't want to die."

Zhenya slowly took Florin's hand and squeezed it, marveling at how natural the motion felt. "You're not going to die. I won't let you. I promise, you will survive tomorrow."

"And after that?"

"We stick together. For as long as we can."

Florin gripped Zhenya's hand tightly and looked up at dark eyes were bright and beautiful, like the city lights just over the horizon. "You're beautiful..." Zhenya breathed.

Florin's smile returned and he slowly leaned in.

When their lips touched, it was like all the troubles in the world melted away. It was just the two of them, in a city where anything was possible. And for a moment, Zhenya was happy.

Jann Cotton, 18, District 8 Male

Jann sprang from the elevator and made a beeline for Ghost, who was pacing back and forth across the kitchen while talking softly on her communicuff. His initial fury on Hendrix's behalf had mostly died down, giving way to the need to see justice be done.

He wanted the tea, freshly brewed and piping hot. He wanted to see whichever airheaded Capitol TV Corpo who thoughtthatwas appropriate get fired in real time. If the world dared decide to be fair for once, maybe an actual cannon would be in order.

He stopped short of the island in the center of the room and watched Ghost continue her methodical pacing and phone call. "Okay, Merc," she says. "Let me know if you need anything. And give the kid a hug from me. Gems know he needs it. ... Okay, see you tomorrow. ... Bye."

Ghost lowered the communicuff and covered her face with her free hand. "Shit... What a mess."

"How's Hendrix doing?" Jann asks.

Ghost closes her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. "As well as he can. His district partner and mentor are with him."

"Has there been any ... fallout from all of that yet? Flickerman sounded like he was going to rip someone's head off."

"No, but, well..." Ghost lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh and an exasperated sigh. "Technically, you're not supposed to know about this, but the Buzz is, well, buzzing about it. Justice for Hendrix and 'Awkwartoga' are both trending. No one's happy about what happened, for a bunch of different reasons, but still... It's not looking too good for whoever allowed that bullshit information Caesar was given to survive QA."

"So, someone's getting fired." The thought filled Jann with sadistic and vengeful glee.

"Or worse. You don't just get fired from the Hunger Games. It's too important. I mean, look what happened to Plutarch Heavensbee and Seneca Crane a few years ago."

Oh, Jann remembered that very clearly. He remembered the confusion that came after those fateful Games, the lockdowns that forced Jann underground for weeks, and most of all, he remembered the exact moment that Seneca Crane, the Gamemaker once in charge of mutts, dropped from the gallows. He remembered the sound of bones breaking, the way the light in the eyes flickered out like a light switch had been flipped. He would never forget the moment the man who killed Krystian Berg got what he deserved. It was the first of many moments to come and Jann was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Of course, there was the obstacle that was tomorrow. As far as he knew, the Careers were clueless as to Jann's true motives, and he had Safira's trust. He had pretty good odds of living to see the end of the bloodbath, but if watching Krystian's games taught him one thing, it was that no one was safe, ever. There were no Finnick Odair Fanclub Members to get rid of, but the pack was destabilized all the same. While Jann doubted he'd be a target if things went to shit (He was under the impression that Becket or Asser were prime candidates for that such a personnel change), he still had to watch his back – which he planned to do anyway, so he'd be just fine.

Jann wasn't too terribly worried about himself. He wasn't even worried about Cordy and Ansi, who were under strict instructions to run like hell and not look back. No, the person he was worried about was currently curled up on the couch, staring out into space with a terrified look in her eyes. Jann feels it again, that surge of protectiveness he's felt towards this girl since she stood trembling on the Reaping stage. They might not have been allies, but Jann still cared about her and her wellbeing.

She was the one person that would make things messy tomorrow.

Jann brushed the thought away. He had to trust that her allies would keep her out of the fray. He had to trust her not to do anything stupid. In the meantime, she needed comfort, and that's exactly what Jann was going to give her.

He approached quietly, as not to frighten her. That went about as well as one would expect. Blanca jolted from her place on the couch upon hearing his footsteps and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Will you be okay?" he asked.

Blanca shook her head quickly. More tears formed in her eyes. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered.

"I can stay with you."

Blanca shook her head again. "You need to be with that girl tonight. So she trusts you more."

Heat rose in his cheeks. He tried to speak up and defend his honor and a cough and a few feeble words came out instead. "Well... I... You..." For the first time in ages, Jann Cotton was rendered absolutely speechless.

Blanca giggled at the sight of her strong district partner being reduced to a blushing mess. Well, it wasn't all bad at least.

"How about this," Jann said. "I take you up to Tilly's, and you can stay there tonight if you want." It occurred to Jann that this would have likely put him face to face with the last person that he wanted to see, but...

No, now was not the time for grudges. Blanca needed him. That was what was important.

Blanca considered this for a moment, then she nodded and stood.

They walked to the elevator together, Blanca huddled close to Jann like a terrified puppy. He pressed the button leading up to the ninth floor. They arrived within seconds, and the moment the door opened, he saw Tilly sitting at the dining room table along with ...withher.

Tilly looked up upon hearing the door open. "She..." Jann cleared his throat. He needed to get this out, save Blanca the energy of talking. Tilly, bless her, understood immediately. She walked over and took Blanca gently by the shoulders.

"Thank you," she said as she led Blanca away towards the couch. Blanca looked back at him and smiled. Jann couldn't help but smile back, but it quickly faded.

Would this be the last time he saw her? Would the next time he saw her face be in whatever artificial sky that the Capitol put them all under?

He quickly turned to leave, accidentally locking eyes with the Grim Reaper in the process. The girl who had won the Games that had taken Krystian from him. The girl who had defeated the mutt that had killed his best friend. The girl who should have died instead of him.

For a long moment, neither brown or silver gazes wavered. Jann tried to muster up the resentment he felt for Amber Reeves, but came up empty. Amber, on the other hand, just looked at him with sadness in her eyes. Sadness and ... regret?

Why regret? Does she see Jann and see the monster she created? Does she regret what happened to Krystian? Does she regret volunteering and bringing so much main character energy into the Games that the Gamemakers refused to give anyone else a chance?

Neither of them exchanged words in the end. Instead, Amber gave him a firm nod and a sad smile. An acknowledgement ... and perhaps a thank you.

Jann found himself returning the nod before returning to the elevator and the eighth floor. Blanca was more important than his revenge quest, and his task was completed. Sticking around would only make things worse for her. And in a way, Jann couldn't help but feel thankful towards the Grim Reaper, for mentoring the girl whose hands Jann felt safe leaving his district partner in.

Shit, why were emotions so damn confusing?

Viorica McCoy, 17, District 6 Female

The bedroom was going to be in need of new floors if Viorica kept up her back and forth any longer.

Any logical person would be in bed, trying to get as much sleep in as possible because there was no guarantee there would be a chance to sleep in the arena, but Viorica had never been logical. Why start now? Especially with the thoughts racing in her head.

She had only managed to get Hendrix to bed less than an hour ago. The poor kid had been borderline hysterical when he had left the stage, and the damn Capitol Hyenas were too busy gawking to do anything intelligent about it. With his allies unable to leave and Mercury having disappeared to rip some freak a new one, the task of getting Hendrix away from those animals fell to her. Tilly had swung by at some point to check on him, but Hendrix didn't want anyone else to see him, so she was sent away with a curt "He's fine. I got him."

Being an emotional support human was far from how Viorica imagined spending her evening, butsomeonehad to do it.

Fucking Capitol creeps, caring more about drama than the fact that that was a fucking little boy they just dropped a bombshell on the night before they sent him to his death like a pig to the slaughter.

Speaking of slaughter...

Viorica stopped pacing long enough to glance out the window. It was so loud outside. People were celebrating Games Eve, or whatever the hell they called it. A night of feasting and drinking before passing out in whatever gutter or mansion they could find until the countdown began.

A few years ago, Viorica wouldn't have given a shit. Hell, her parents might have been hosting a dinner or a gettogether while she sat in her room, working on her latest art piece. No anger, no injustice, no waiting for what could be the last morning to come.

Viorica practically collapsed onto her bed with a huff. She had really fallen far, hadn't she? From riches to rags, safe to far from it.

All because some assholes decades ago had a better than you attitude and no one bothered to keep it in check until it all fell to pieces.

Viorica stared up at the ceiling, watching the artificial stars dance across it. Her last night in the lap of luxury... Tomorrow, who knew where she'd be sleeping, or if she'd be sleeping at all?

She knew that some alliances had met earlier in the evening. There was no need for hers to, however. Sleep was a must, as hard as that task was, and they had their strategy nailed down anyway. Run in, find each other and what they could, and run out. They were an average alliance with average scores, and the Careers had bigger fish to fry, like the Sevens or the Twelves. Or even each other...

Viorica wasn't stupid, she saw how frayed that alliance was. Was it too much to hope that they'd fall apart at the bloodbath? A large Pack would have scared the shit out of Viorica any other year, and it still did, of course, but... Well, she didn't count on waiting long for those faces to appear in the whatever sky they were under. Unless it was hers that showed up first...

Viorica closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another. She was going to survive tomorrow. So would Tali and Rhys. They were going to find each other and get to whatever temporary safety they could. From there, they'd see who died in the bloodbath, explore the arena, and go from there.

The artist wasn't entirely sure how long she laid in that cushy bed, waiting for sleep to come. She wasn't entirely sure when she gave up either, swinging herself upright and stalking into the hallway. Maybe there would be a movie on, or a sketchbook for her to use, something to keep her mind off of the absolute shitshow that was Viorica's life as of this moment.

Instead, she found her mentor sitting on the couch, a shadow against the muted documentary that lit up the room alongside the dim glow of the communicuff in Mercury's hands. One glance told her that it was about fish. It made sense. The ocean was the polar opposite of the desert, and deserts were bound to be a not-so-fun reminder of Mercury's arena, a dusty wasteland with no water or shade.

Gems, would her arena be that inhospitable? She sure as hell hoped not...

Mercury noticed her just as she was contemplating leaving her mentor be. "Hey, Viorica," he greeted. "Can't sleep?"

"Nope," Viorica replied in a huff.

"It's fine. I couldn't sleep either the night before my Games. You want to sit for a bit? I can unmute the documentary. Just wanted something relaxing in the background."

Viorica moved to sit down, but held her hand up to stop Mercury from unmuting the fish. "It's fine. I'm content to just sit."

Now that she was closer, Viorica could see that Mercury's eyes still brimmed with anger, but it was less harsh. "Sorry for losing it earlier," the victor said. "Not my finest moment."

"I don't think that's true," Viorica replied. "Someone had to speak up for Hendrix. Why shouldn't it be his mentor?"

Mercury chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose that's true. Speaking of, you should know that I got off the phone with Puer Begonia an hour ago." Viorica raised an eyebrow. Mercury nodded and continued. "She wanted to personally apologize for what happened. I'm supposed to let Hendrix know tomorrow before you get on the hovercraft. She's actually getting involved and making sure whoever pulled that stunt gets his just desserts. And Capitol TV released a statement as well."

"Really?" That was certainly a shock. The Capitol feeling remorseful?

"Yeah. And, I was going to tell both of you this tomorrow, but... Well, there is a silver lining to all of this. District 6 has been flooded with sponsors. Most of it is going to Hendrix of course, but you've gotten quite a few too. Apparently they saw you getting him out of there after that mess. You two are in the top ten in terms of most sponsored, actually."

Viorica stared at Mercury, completely stunned.

"That's great," she said slowly. Sponsors? For Hendrix? And her? "I... That's amazing."

It wasn't lost on Viorica that most of those sponsorships were probably out of pity, but money was money in the Hunger Games. Viorica couldn't afford to be choosy. And, perhaps, some of them were out of genuine care and remorse. No matter the reasons behind it, Hendrix's situation was not being taken lightly or brushed under the rug. Perhaps that meant that there was justice in the world after all, however little and fleeting. Perhaps there was hope for humanity yet.

Rhys Marcel, 17, District 3 Male

Rhys tried to sleep. He tried pacing across his room. He tried counting sheep. He tried drinking that fancy tea the Capitol kept stocked, but nothing worked. Energy was surging through him like lightning bolts and at the moment, he felt like he could do anything and everything.

Maybe, just maybe, he could carry that energy into the Games.

Ah shit, the Games. They were hours away. What would the next few days hold, anyway? Would he freak out and run? Would he get to grab a sword? Would he get to be a badass and take out a Career? That'd be super cool.

Wait, no, that's murder. Career or not, that was murder and thatwasnot cool. Nothing about this was cool.

Well, Viorica and Tali were pretty awesome. Back home, he'd be more than thrilled to have them meet Zander and Quinn. Viorica could leave behind calling cards and Tali could be the fast talker. The five of them would get up to all kinds of hijinx!

Zander and Quinn...

Rhys's positive thinking went completely kaput after that and once again, he was pacing around his room. Rhys wasn't going to be a complete downer and say he was fucked, but he wouldn't be a complete arrogant asshole and say the crown was his either. If things went wrong, really wrong, would they be okay without their fearless leader? Or if he made it back, would things be the same between them?

Damn, his life really was going to be changed forever. Either he'd be dead or a Victor, super cool in the eyes of the Capitol and no one else.

Nope! Not going to think about that!

That line of thinking would make reality all too real. The Games were just another obstacle to overcome. Nothing more, nothing less. He'd grab a sword, find his allies, and badass his way to victory. Three simple things.

Rhys found himself back in bed again with another mug of tea. Damn, if he had made it one more year, he could have legally been allowed to order some potent potables. Seriously, why was it restricted to only eighteen year olds? Are they seriously going to throw him into a death match without giving him a taste of whiskey? That wasn't cool at all!

Now he's pacing again. He wished he could have something to help him sleep, but tributes weren't allowed to have that. The night before the Games was a time of "reflection" and "thanks."

Thanks for what? Killing him?

Rhys smacked the side of his head to focus himself. He forced himself to take several deep breaths.

They say it's easier to be brave when the sun is out. Rhys had always thought that phrase was ridiculous. He laughed at the silliness of it. Now, on what could be the final night of his life, he wasn't laughing anymore.

Rhys found himself wandering aimlessly around the apartment. He knew sleep was a must. He remembered hearing about a year where a girl fell asleep at her pedestal. The thought of going the same way made him shudder.

He didn't want to die lying down. Rhys knew that much. He wanted to go not begging for his life, but fighting for it. If Zander and Quinn were going to watch him die, he wanted them to know that he did the best he could. It had been a while since a District 3 Tribute had died on their feet.

"Stop pacing."

The sound of his district partner's voice snapped Rhys out of his chaotic thoughts, and he found himself standing near the door to Cordelia's room. Cordy leaned against the door frame, an annoyed look on her face. "You're being loud."

Him? Loud? The super cool thief? The stealthiest there is? Loud? Wow, that was either insulting or an accurate testament to just how anxious he was.

"Can't sleep."

Cordy examined him for a moment, her large grey eyes boring into him like he was one of her science projects. Rhys had to fight the urge to shrink into the floor. Just when Rhys was about to open his mouth and say something, Cordy just sighed. "Logical," was all she said before stepping out of the room. "I've pulled all-nighters in the past. I can function after sleepless nights. However, I do not know if you can. If this is what helps you get the rest you need for tomorrow, I will not complain."

Rhys sighed. "Yeah, I... I appreciate it but... I dunno."

"It's alright, really. Besides, the District Two floor is right below us."

The neurons in Rhys's head lit up like a lightbulb. "Are the rooms stacked on top of each other?"

"I believe so. The architecture of the apartments are similar."

Rhys grinned. "You want to do something funny?"

"I know what you're thinking and I'm not sure antagonizing the Careers will improve our odds of survival."

"They want us dead anyway. May as well make it just a little bit harder."

"We don't even know if they're asleep."

"Well, it'll make me feel good. Come on."

Cordelia seemed to think about it long and hard for a while. She twitched a bit, her gaze flickering down at the floor. Finally, she shrugged.

"Let's do it."

Rhys's grin widened as Cordelia moved to let him enter. He positioned himself over the hardwood floor, took a deep breath, and jumped, grinning at the resounding thud that his bare feet made.

Cordelia's lips twitched upwards. "Idiot. You need a greater starting height to make it more effective." She climbed onto the bed, and Rhys's jaw dropped with shock as his normally stiff and cold district partner leapt from the mattress. A laugh tore from him before he could stop it.

"We should be wearing shoes!" he suggested, before racing back to his room to grab the boots he had worn to training. When he returned, Cordy had put on shoes of her own. It was nice, seeing her come out of her shell.

The two took turns jumping off furniture, dancing on the floor, and for a moment, Rhys Marcel wasn't living what could be the last night of his life. He was a kid, having an absolute blast. The two kept going, even after they heard the all too familiar sound of a broom banging on the ceiling. They kept going, eventually taking the party to Rhys's room, until the Peacekeepers finally came to tell them to knock it off.

So, it's been a bit. I sort of kind of had my life implode over the past three months, and it's been hard to function let alone write, but we're getting through it, one day at a time. We have two chapters, and an interlude left until the Games begin. We are so stinking close I can almost taste it.

Also, as for SOTR, really enjoyed it. However, aside from a few minor tweaks, I won't be making this verse SOTR Compliant simply because that would require changing a LOT of things that have already been established (for example, Wiress winning the 49th in canon. She will still have a Nest of Mirrors arena but she will remain as the victor of the 47th. Never knew how much my verse relied on Brutus in the 49th until now haha). Sorry if this is a turn off for people, but I figured this was the best course of action for the Simple Gifts AU. I won't be ignoring canon, don't worry, but I can't make this verse compliant without rewriting a lot of stuff.

Our next chapter shall be the morning of the Games, with our projected lineup consisting of Luce, Dawn, Tali, and Cole! See you then!