The story is based off of characters from Suzanne Collins' trilogy, the Hunger Games.

I thank all of those who have followed and reviewed by story!

Katniss sat in her bed, the portfolio laying before her. The name Peeta beautifully penciled out on the cover. Her heart raced in excitement because she had just committed a deed she should not have, but also because there was fear and anticipation behind what she would find in the folder. It was nearly impossible getting any time alone and the silence she was award after dinner was much appreciated. Her fingers brushed along the edge of the portfolio, trembling with excitement as she traced it.

With one big deep breath, she opened. She was anything but disappointed. On the top was the same image of the tree that she had seen when she first ran into Peeta. But now, without the haste of missing the next period at school, she thoroughly examined the painting unabashedly. The tree so serene against the beautiful sky and the rustic background, its green dark leaves lush with life. The colors were so intricately woven that she felt the need to memorize the color palette. She could almost smell the fresh air that swept by underneath the low lying branches. Peeta was talented, Katniss had to admit to herself. If he could bring something as immobile as a tree to life, then he was made of much more substance than many people believed, including herself.

She did not notice it the time before, but there was a small necklace seemingly made of straw that lay at the base of the tree. It was so subtly painted that she nearly missed it. If it were not so thin, she would have called it a wreath. Peeta painted it so that it was lying in the shadows. For some reason, the peace she initially felt when she saw the painting dissipated. It did not feel like it belonged in such a place of nature, this manmade necklace. It was as if the necklace was painted only for Peeta's eyes, so subdued was its presence. She made a mental note of this and turned the page.

The next piece was a painting of a mansion. The gates had gold rims and pointed sharp tips, and behind them, a lovely well-trimmed yard with a dense forest further out. The name Snow was commandingly hung at the brick mailbox near the gates. There was a quaint looking outhouse at the perimeter of the mansion. The sky was dark but the house seemed to illuminate under the moonlight. There was a small pond near the outhouse that also reflected the moon's luminescent beam. It was wondrous and elegant. She wondered how it would feel to sit outside in the middle of the night and stare at this picturesque image and paint it. Interestingly, there was only one light on in the house at the top-most right hand corner. All the other rooms were eerily dark. In the one well-lit room, there was a shadow. And this was when the feel of the painting turned from serene to eerie. The shadow was of someone standing with an easel and a paintbrush. It was very clearly drawn. Katniss felt a shiver run through her. She could not imagine Snow painting at home. And Peeta had no other living relative that she was aware of. Why was it that Peeta would paint the house while he was actually inside it? It seemed a little narcissistic. But then, another thought struck her. It felt as though someone else was peering at the house, and that this image was through someone else's eyes. Katniss shivered, haunted by that thought. Was Peeta being watched?

She looked to the corner of the painting and beautifully written was the name Peeta. Like the other painting, he did not put his last name. And underneath his name, a memorable line from a memorable poem. And miles to go before I sleep.

Katniss felt like choking or sobbing, so intense were the emotions she felt. The line was so unexpected to read. She could not imagine Peeta to be the suicidal type, but the sadness in those words resonated throughout both the paintings. Her heart raced at the thought of Peeta, so solemn and stoic, being vulnerable and lonely. Had she and her friends completely misjudged the boy? Was he perhaps not as cold as he appeared? And was his solitude not of his choosing? She thought hard and realized that perhaps no one really had tried to broach the principal's son, that they had placed the label before the individual. Was his lack of socialization more a product of what the students and teachers forced upon him rather than his true desire?

She turned the painting over, overwhelmed by melancholy. She was not disappointed. The anguish washed away immediately. It was a painting of a man and a boy. The boy in the painting was no more than seven or eight. He had a genuine smile on his face, an endearing and innocent expression. He was held in his man's arms very protectively. The blond hair and vivid blue eyes of the boy were very reminiscent of Peeta. The only interesting point was that the man who held the boy with so much love and compassion did not look anything like Snow. His eyes were bigger, his nose less crooked and protruding, his lips fuller. His hair was equally as blond as the boy's, and his eyes were a piercing shade of green. A sudden thought came to Katniss. Snow's eyes were blue. The man and the boy were in a park, yet for all the beautiful distractions there, the two behaved as if they were the only ones that existed. An uncle perhaps? But that thought fled from Katniss as quick as it came. No! The image was too tender, too private to be between a nephew and an uncle. It was between father and son.

She flipped over the painting, glad that Peeta could paint images that were not always disturbing. The next series of Peeta's work were actually beautiful portraits that were so life-like and engaging that Katniss could actually match an emotion to each one. For example, there was one of the 'father' earlier in which the man looked hopeful. There was one of Snow in which the word 'manipulative' came to mind, with his beady eyes and calculating gaze. Katniss had to nod in agreement at Peeta's artistic expression. Every image only further proved to her that he was perceptive. His works were crystal clear in defining the artist's impression of the individual he pained. There was a painting of a woman with very similar features to Peeta, just much older. She looked disdainful and very unhappy.

There was a hilarious painting of Effie looking quite oblivious and outlandish, the colors were so vibrant they jumped off the page. Katniss let out a chuckle, heartened by the fact that Peeta felt that way about Effie, solidifying the fact that he was not as oblivious as she and her friends had thought.

Then, there was a painting of a man. The man was likely in his late thirties. He was skinny with elaborate facial hair. He was dressed in expensive clothing and his face . . . Katniss shuddered. His face looked fiendishly hungry in a creepy sort of way. He stared at Katniss, his gaze demanding, his posture aggressive. Katniss pulled the painting aside. Something about this painting required a little more research. She now came across the last portrait, it seemed.

She froze. The last portrait was that of her! Her eyes. Her nose. Her lips. Her face! Even the details of her clothing were accurate to the very last loose stitch on her sweater. Her hair was a little softer and lighter than she would admit. But it was her! Her heart pounded as she tried to find a word to describe Peeta's impression of her. And like all the other portraits, it was absolutely clear. She looked . . . determined and focused. Katniss did not know whether to take this as a complement or insult. There was a hint of compassion in her eyes, but mostly, there was something feral there that would make others cringe. Was this how Peeta saw her? Her body shook unnervingly. Perhaps it was the excitement that Peeta thought her important enough in his life to draw her, perhaps it was the thrill that he had memorized and studied her features that well. How could she not have known of his interest in her? He must not have painted from memory! She was absolutely sure. He probably had a yearbook photo or something. Or he secretly snapped a photo of her! That thought sent more tingling sensations throughout her body.

She pulled that portrait out of the portfolio and delicately placed it in her drawers. Funny, but she felt entitled to it.

There were not many works left in his portfolio. The rest were merely sketches, some not quite discernible, and others felt like doodles. She could make out some pretty flowers and furniture. She was about to close the portfolio when a smaller sheet of paper slid out of the portfolio. It was strange, but it looked like a map of a house, showing all three floors. It was so strange why he would draw something like this. Katniss unfolded it to reveal that there was a small but notable fourth floor. When Katniss saw the labeled outhouse on it, she realized that it was a map of the house that Peeta had painted earlier. So this is a map of his house!

Something told Katniss that this map may be important. She grabbed her camera and took a photo of it. She would definitely need this if they were going to dig up trash on Snow. There were quite a few intriguing details on the map. For instance, the dining room not only showed the table and chairs, but there were paintings on the walls. Of interest, behind the paintings, Peeta also drew in a few lines with very small numbers written on them. Katniss's eyes widened. Were they some sort of security code?

She quickly looked to the room that was labeled 'office'. No doubt it must be Snow's room. It was cluttered with furniture. She quickly found another line behind the painting on the wall, but was disappointed to see no numbers there. However, underneath the chair, there was a curved line. The symbol was obvious. It was a gun! Katniss felt her heart pounding at an irregular pace! Peeta had drawn the layout of his house with details that were not meant for the casual audience! Katniss' eyes quickly roamed the rest of the house. There was a huge gym, an entertainment room, and a pool area on the ground floor. The second floor contained more offices and multiple bedrooms, one which was labeled PM. It had to be Peeta's room because there was an easel there. His bed was tiny, and the rest of his room was quite scantily furnished. She wondered what the significance of the M was. The third floor seemed to be smaller rooms for maids or other helpers, but Peeta labeled each one distinctly with initials, but none that had any significance for Katniss at that point in time.

And finally, her eyes scanned the fourth floor. There was one huge empty room. There was not a single item of furniture in it, and unlike the other rooms, Peeta did not put any labels on it. The room had no windows. Somehow, perhaps because of its emptiness, Katniss felt drawn to that room. There was something sinister about it, as if Peeta was afraid to put anything down on paper. Is he frightened about something in the room? There has to be a purpose to that room, but what could it be?

Katniss let out a sigh of relief. She had gambled well. This portfolio had given her so much insight into Snow's household . . . and into Peeta. Katniss wondered why her cheeks felt so warm when thinking of that name. She placed the portfolio under her bed and knew what she needed to do. She grabbed the portrait of the man with the elaborate facial hair and walked to her father's office. Whether he wanted her involved or not, she was in too deep.

She knocked on the door and could hear her father's voice encouraging her to come in. Her father sat hunched forward on his computer engrossed in whatever he was doing. "Oh, Katniss! I thought it was your mother."

Katniss smiled, happy that her family was functional. For some odd reason, her mind drifted to Peeta and she wondered which room he was currently resting in . . . if he was resting. She shook her head, willing herself to focus. "Daddy." She drew out the word to get her father's attention. It worked. He pulled his face from the computer, his eyes now focused on her.

Katniss continued. "I have a painting of a man, and I was wondering if you could ID him."

Chief Everdeen looked at Katniss suspiciously but nodded, his arms outstretched. Katniss handed over the portrait. Her father snatched the photo, anxious now. It did not take long for him to recognize the face. "Seneca Crane," he whispered. He looked to Katniss. "Why do you have this painting? Are you meddling into Snow's affairs? I told you not to."

Katniss tried to expertly divert her father's focus. "So this Seneca Crane is related to the Snows?"

Chief Everdeen frowned in disapproval. "Katniss, this man is a womanizing bastard. He is a billionaire whose origin is unknown, who is married but has countless misdemeanor charges against him! He has settled multiple claims of sexual assault and battery. He is NOT a good man. Some reason, he and Snow are good friends because Crane has been seen countless times at Snow's place. They must be doing something illegal together or he must be pestering some good-looking maid in that household! You are NOT to continue digging into this man's history. Besides, why do you have a painting of him?" Her father's eyes were demanding and full of anger.

Katniss sighed. "I'm sorry Dad, but I cannot help it. This issue with Snow is eating you up! And from what I can tell, Snow and his friends are chaining you down and making life for you and everyone else in this town hard. Do you think it any different at school where he is the principal?"

Chief Everdeen seemed to calm down somewhat with Katniss's explanation. After waiting another minute, Katniss continued. "I found it in Snow's son's art portfolio. You know he has a son that goes to our school."

Her father remained silent. Empowered, Katniss continued. "I think his son may be able to assist us with investigations on Snow."

Chief Everdeen suddenly turned to face Katniss, eyes fiery once again. "I REPEAT. I DO NOT WANT YOU MEDDLING. You are NOT to familiarize yourself with anyone from the Snow household. Do you UNDERSTAND?" His nostrils were raised.

Katniss was not one to back down. "We are a family, and I will not sit here and be the silent victim. Besides, Peeta Snow is not interested in socializing as evident by his lack of friends at school. It's just . . . it's just that . . . " Katniss bit her lip, wondering how she should put it. She wanted to find out more information about Peeta, and with her father's access and social network, perhaps she could get more information.

"Go on," her father commanded.

"I was wondering if, well, if Peeta perhaps is not sympathetic to Snow's dealings. And maybe, he finds Snow's attitude just as overbearing . . . or even abusive." She spoke the last line softly.

"You think Snow treats his son the way he treats everyone else?" her father asked carefully.

Katniss shook her head. "It's just a hunch."

Her father looked back to his computer screen, resigned. "Go back to sleep, Katniss. I've got work to do. I have no time for your dallying unnecessary stuff. You just steer clear of Snow and everyone related to him."

Katniss felt her father's dismissal as a slap to her face. She walked out of her father's office. There was nothing more to be said.

The next morning, Katniss' eyes were red from thinking. She thought all night about how she was going to get the portfolio back to the art teacher without too much suspicion. She got all the information she wanted and now needed to return it to Mr. Foggert, and she needed to do it deftly.

She was broached that morning by her friends, so she decided to leave the issue of the paintings until lunch. Gale was unusually bright that day. "Katniss," he spoke, his eyes full of hope and anxiety. His fingers were twitching uncharacteristically. "Didn't know if you wanted to study together at the library later on today."

Katniss bit her lip. "Well, I was hoping to get the English paper done, and I am a bit behind. But I thought if I just stayed home, I might be able to concentrate more."

"Katniss, I don't think Gale was thinking of spending the entire evening at the library. I think he just wants a little company," Madge spoke mysteriously. Her eyes looked like she was holding back from some secret.

Katniss narrowed her eyes. "Okay? Well, I honestly don't have time. I have another event planned at church with my mother."

Gale stuttered something incoherent. Finally Finnick rolled his eyes, huffed and let it all out. "Geez, man. Don't make our gender look so weak. Katniss, Gale wants to ask you out to the Winter Ball. It is coming up, and well, you two look like a perfect couple. You should go out!"

Katniss was speechless. The Winter Ball was quite low on her priorities, and the fact that Gale wanted to go out with her was shocking. "Gale, I'm shocked. I mean, you have a legion of girls wanting to go with you. You don't have to feel bad for me. I mean, I don't mind if I don't go. Maybe you can take Madge or Delly."

Delly's jaw dropped, but then she giggled. "Katniss, I don't think that Gale is doing this out of pity. He really wants to go out with you!"

Katniss gaped. "Seriously, don't joke with me. I am like the most boring party person ever."

Finnick let a breath out in exasperation. "I don't think Gale finds it that way. Geez girl. All you have to do is breath and he is mesmerized. Just give the guy a bone, will ya?"

Madge huffed at Finnick's lack of taste. "Finn, I think you have said enough. Talk about lack of tact. What do all these girls see in you?" she said furiously.

Finnick laughed. "No, they see someone bold, beautiful, charming, and brutally honest. By the way, who are you asking out?" Finnick's eyes bore into Madge's, who blushed and looked away.

"I'm not telling you, you creep." Madge retorted. "Someone much more gallant."

Delly shook her head in disapproval at Finnick. "Oh will you leave it. Who are you going out with?"

Finnick lifted his head with an air of arrogance. "Oh, a little spitfire by the name of Johanna Mason."

This got everyone's attention. "Johanna?" Madge squealed. "You really are going for the ever so feisty. She has pretty sharp nails."

Finnick laughed. "And so do I."

Katniss sighed in relief. Their friends had forgotten that she had not yet answered Gale's offer. She did not know what to think about it. She was honestly not a party person, but the fact that Gale was blushing cheek to cheek was worrying her. She had not really thought of him as a boyfriend, just as a really good friend. And plus, he has so many girls going after him, she had never thought him interested in her that way. Plus, there were so many things that she needed to get done. Including Peeta. Peeta! The name brought her back fro her tangential thoughts. Something caught her attention.

She looked beyond her friends and focused her gaze on a figure hobbling on crutches. Peeta! She could feel Gale's gaze upon her, and his eyes quickly followed hers.

But then, Katniss lost track of Gale and her friends. She was astounded by Peeta's presence at school. His leg was buried under layers of dressing, and his skin was as pale as ever. He looked pretty concentrated on just staying upright. There was a man twice his size walking behind him. Bodyguard? Both appeared to be heading towards the administrative offices. Once they disappeared, Katniss realized that her friends were silent, their previous conversation having ended abruptly.

She looked towards them. "Well, that was unexpected," Finnick stated.

Katniss' thought was that she needed get the portfolio back to Mr. Foggert before Peeta found out, but what lie would she spring to get Mr. Foggert to take back the portfolio without making him suspicious?

"Earth to Katniss!" Madge was waving her hand in front of Katniss. Katniss blinked a few times before responding.

"Sorry, just a little surprised, that's all," Katniss spoke earnestly.

Finnick eyed Katniss with a strange look. "Do you think we should ask him how's he doing?"

Delly shook her head. "Perhaps we should give it a few days. He seems to need a little space, it seems."

"He looks hurt, actually," Madge said solemnly. "I mean, it must hurt."

"I wonder why he is back at school so soon. It would seem like Snow would keep him out for weeks like the last time," Finnick thought out loud.

Only Gale did not offer any words. Katniss' eyes unknowingly traveled to Gale's face, and what she saw was not heartening. His face was cold, his eyes brimming with an emotion that Katniss had heard of but never felt first hand. It was a look of jealousy. Katniss felt the wind knocked out of her. Gale was jealous! But why? Of her looking at Peeta? It was a ludicrous thought. She was trying to get to Peeta to help her father out. Surely he would know better! She and Peeta were from completely different worlds. There was no way Gale needed to be jealous of that!

Plus, Peeta had saved her. It was only right to thank him for that. If Gale continued on this line of thought, Snow would definitely have a fit.

For some reason, Katniss felt the need to prove to Gale that his feelings were misplaced. She did not want her friend to get riled up over something as simple as her interactions with Peeta. It was all business after all, was it not. Peeta's and her worlds are too different to collide. And to have Snow as a family member would make any girl run away from that relationship.

Katniss cleared her throat. "I'm in."

Gale looked at her in confusion. "What?"

"The Winter Ball. You were asking me out to the Winter Ball. That's a yes." Katniss felt strange. She meant that as a way to secure her friendship with Gale. Yet, her promise to go to the Winter Ball with him felt like a chain that held her back . . . but from what?

Betweem Peeta and Gale, Gale had always had girls hovering over him, asking him out. And Peeta? Well, Peeta was simply someone that all the girls avoided at school, as if he harbored a contagious disease. And it wasn't so much that Peeta was not as good looking. As a matter of fact, Peeta's face was beautiful in its own right, his features so symmetric, so dark, so sharp. It was just that compared to Gale and Finnick, Peeta was socially inept, the quiet son of the creepy Principal.

Katniss was not sure why Gale would appear to be so insecure about something as her affections with Peeta. She and Gale had grown up together. Peeta was more of a stranger, a novelty, a means to an end.

Gale's mouth was agape. Katniss smiled. "Gale, I want to go to the ball with you. I appreciate you asking." As she said this, she snuck one last look towards the doors that Peeta had disappeared behind. She wondered why he was at school so soon after the accident.

"Thank you for returning the paintings," Mr. Foggert said gratefully as he held out his arms towards Katniss.

Katniss smiled. "Yeah. I was going to surprise him with his stuff, but I guess he wanted to come back earlier. It was a little unexpected."

Mr. Foggert remained silent, pensive, before answering. "That was very sweet of you. No wonder he was so concentrated on your portrait. I guess he wanted to do you your portrait justice."

Her painting! Katniss remembered now that she had left her painting in her room. Would Peeta notice? Of course he would. Strangely, she did not feel panicked by this idea. "Has he come by yet?"

Mr. Foggert shook his head. "Should be any minute now." And just as he said those words, the door flew open.

Katniss froze. She did not think he would show up this early to Mr. Foggert's class. It was just after the beginning of lunch period.

"Oh, hi Peeta!" Mr. Foggert greeted.

Peeta did not seem to say anything in response to the greeting. Katniss could hear his heavy steps as he entered the room, the crutches rubbing heavily against the floor.

It seems as if his bodyguard was also there, as Katniss could hear more than the crutches gliding through the classroom.

Finally, Peeta spoke, but his words were hoarse. "Mr. Foggert." Silence. It was strange, but Peeta did not acknowledge Katniss.

"Well, I am glad you survived, Peeta!" Mr. Foggert smiled widely. "What brings you here this early?"

Katniss turned to look at Peeta's face. Pearls of sweat were falling trickling down, making Katniss want to dry it off. He looked awful. But something in his eyes warned Katniss not to answer. His eyes were impressive in how much emotion they could convey. She remained silent.

Peeta did not seem like he wanted to answer the question . . . or did he not want to answer the questions in front of Katniss? But after a nudge from his 'bodyguard', Peeta continued. "I came to grab some supplies to start some new projects at home. My father thinks it best for me to spend some more time away from school to heal."

Katniss did not know if she was imagining it, but Peeta's eyes darted towards her nervously. She could tell he had seen the portfolio in Foggert's hands but chose to ignore it.

"How much time?" Mr. Foggert asked tentatively, holding the folder into his chest, the name 'Peeta' now facing away from the 'bodyguard'. Katniss could hear the alarm in his voice. Mr. Foggert knew something!

Peeta bit his lip. "After New Years, probably. A friend of the family is inviting us to spend time with him in his cabins in the mountains."

"So your father is going to get to enjoy the mountains, is he?" Mr. Foggert pressed.

The conversation was fascinating Katniss to no end, Peeta's cold façade completely gone. She felt like she was witnessing something intimate, something not meant for the casual audience.

"No, just me." Peeta's words were pained. It did not seem like he wanted to go. "My father will only stay for a few days. He needs to be back in Caprice to get more work done."

Mr. Foggert nodded, his unease almost palpable. "Is it your friend, Mr., uh, Crane?" Mr. Foggert asked.

Katniss felt her heart freeze at the name. Seneca Crane's hungry eyes looked out beseechingly at her and goosebumps began to rise on her skin. She remembered very well how ravenous those eyes looked. Something clicked in her mind, as she realized the underlying meaning behind all of Peeta's words. She looked at Peeta's eyes and was shocked to see that his eyes were stormy. There was a vulnerable innocence there that she had never noticed before. It almost seemed like a tear was going to fall because his eyes got watery. But the tear never formed. And suddenly, as if remembering the presence of the 'bodyguard', whose face was now looking suspicious, Peeta's face became devoid of emotion. "Yes," he answered softly. And just like a light switch, his face became a mask of coldness and indifference.