A/N: Thanks to DandelionOnFire(Really? That'd be great), Kari, elisemellark, LivingReminder, HungerGamesLover1020, CharmChaser(It was shorter than the other ones. And about Prim, thank God, I'm glad I…how did you phrase it?…nailed her. I really wasn't sure about that), Happy Blossom, Amanda332czx(I'm glad you think so and *grin* hug Peeta? Who doesn't want that ;D), Kiss Peeta(here is more) and I3hungergames for your reviews. They really mean a lot to me! Danke!

I really hope you like this Chapter, because I do.

Tell me if you do, read and review!

Disclaimer: Still don't own them…

Chapter 5:

I hear a knock on the door of my house. Finally.

Wait, where did that finally come from? Why should I think finally? It's only Peeta, who is here to go into the woods with me. This way I can pay him back. After five years. Yes, it's definitely about time. That's where the finally must come from.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts before I open the door. There standing, just how I expected, is Peeta Mellark. Blue eyes looking down at me. He brought a bag, in which I think he is carrying his painting equipment. The bag isn't big. Not that this would surprise me. Even though his parents are merchants they still don't have so much money. And a paint box is expensive. Very expensive.

"Hi!", he says, smiling at me. "Hey.", I say, a bit awkwardly.

Usually, meaning the last week, there is always Prim to start a conversation. The last time we were alone, I knew what I had to, no, wanted to say. But now…

He clears his throat. "Can we…you know…go now?"

My mind stops drifting and I nod. "Yeah."

Relived that I have an excuse to turn away for a second I grab my father's hunting jacket and put it on. Feeling a bit better now, I turn to Peeta again and say: "Sure!"

I step out, closing the door behind me. "This way", I point at the meadow in the direction where the loose stretch in the fence, the one I always crawl under, is.

Peeta is watching me. "Is that leather?", he asks, meaning my jacket I guess. "Yes.", I answer. I've always been proud of this jacket. One of the last memories of my father. "Why?" Why would he want to know?

He shrugs. "Just curious. But if you'd sell it you'd get lots of money." This words hurt. But that's not Peeta's fault. How is he supposed to know about the connection between my father and this jacket.

"I'm sorry.", he says. What? Why does he apologize? Does he know? He answers my unspoken questions before I can say anything. "You looked hurt", he explains. "I guess there's something about this jacket. Don't worry, you don't have to tell me?"

Should I? I could at least tell him I'm not mad, because he seems to think I am. "No, no, it's okay. My father owned this jacket. I don't think you knew?" It's meant as a statement, but it comes out as a question.

"He died in the mine accident five years ago, didn't he?"

Well, I think that was my fault. Bringing my father up. So I guess I can answer this, too. I'm not even sure it is a question. I nod.

He watches me with a sad expression. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." He shakes his head.

What? Now he's blaming himself. But it really isn't his fault. He didn't blow up the mines. And all he did was asking me about the jacket. I sigh.

"It's fine. But can we talk about something else?" I ask. I really don't want to talk about my father.

His face lightens up a bit. "Of course. So, how do we get out of the district?"

When he asks that, I feel my mouth form a smile. Out of the district. How much I love this sentence. Because I know how he feels. Trapped. I think even if I wouldn't have to feed my family, I'd still go out there. Just for the sake of feeling the freedom.

"There.", I say, pointing to the now visible opening. He lifts an eyebrow and looks at me questioningly. "What?" I'm confused. What didn't he understand?

"I don't want to be rude, but how am I supposed to slip through this small opening?" Oh, I didn't think about that. I guess I assumed he would fit through this hole because Gale does.

But Peeta has broad shoulders. They must come from carrying sacks of flour over the years. I've seen him lifting hundred-pound sacks on the market.
And from wrestling. If I remember right, he was second in the wrestling contest a few years ago. Only beaten by his brother.

I shortly wonder why I would know these things about him. Seems I have paid more attention to him
then I thought over the years.

"Um, I don't know. You could try. If it doesn't work we can still try one of the wider ones."

He looks relieved. "There are more?"

Did he really trust in this fence this much? Did he really think it protected our district well?

"Of course. This thing isn't at all stable. If the animals wanted to, they could easily destroy it. But for some reason, they don't."

I assume it's because they are animals and don't think like human beings. But I don't really care, since they don't try.

Peeta only nods. "Good."

We now have arrived at the loose stretch. I pause a second to make sure the fence isn't humming with electricity. That doesn't happen often, but I'm always prepared to hear it. Because when the fence is live, it's deadly.

"What are you doing?", Peeta asks. Of course. He doesn't know. I have to remind myself that he isn't doing this every day.

"I'm checking if the fence is safe." He doesn't ask for further explanations. I think he understood. The whole district knows this is supposed to be electrified.

And it's also supposed to scare animals away. But Gale and I think that this isn't the only reason. It's also supposed to trap us here. To stop people from leaving the district.

But at the moment there isn't any electricity. If it wasn't for the peacekeepers we could technically all run away now.

Of course I know this thought is foolish. They would never let us survive. I suppose they would destroy district twelve just like they did with thirteen.

"It's safe!", I tell Peeta. "Would you mind giving me that bag?"

I want to take it while I slip through the fence. I'm smaller than he is.

"No" He gives it to me without hesitating. Hm. Obviously he trusts me. Well, of course, he wouldn't have come if he didn't. But what makes him trust me?

I sigh. I can just enter that to the list of things I don't know about Peeta. Which is somehow growing with every minute I spend with him. Or think about him.

I take the bag, flatten out on my belly and slide under it. As soon as I'm standing again, I motion for Peeta to follow. "Come on."

He gives me an unsure look before he, too, crawls under it. And he manages. Sure, he has to lift it a bit, but after a few seconds, he's standing beside me, smiling.

"I actually did it!" Now he's got the expression little kids get when they are happy.

A content, triumphant, happy smile from deep inside. I wouldn't have thought a seventeen year old could smile like that, so innocent, so full of life and, why not admit it to myself? Cute. Very cute, actually.

And I can't help but smile back. Not as brightly as he does, but how could I resist when he beams at me like this?

"Yeah, you did it. Come on, this way." I say and whit that I head in the direction where my bow and arrow are positioned. I won't go hunting, but the flesh-eaters are still out here and won't resist two humans who come their way.

When I take my weapons he asks: "You don't want to hunt now, do you? Because I've never been hunting in my entire life and I don't think I'd be very good at it."

Well, I figured that much. Given he's never been out here I could easily tell he's never hunted. And with his loud footsteps I've come to notice, I don't think he'd be to successful.

"No, I don't. But if we cross the path of a bear or something it's better to be armed."

He nods understanding. Than he says something that I've never thought about before: "What would you do if you were thrown into the Hunger Games? Could you kill human beings as easily as animals?"

Why is he talking about this right now? I don't know. But it is a good question. What would I do?

I don't think I could. I mean…it's different. They've got a family and friends. I don't think I could do it without it leaving marks.

"No. No, I don't think so. Why did you bring it up?"

He hesitates a second. Is he afraid I will kill him? He should know I'd never do this. "Because…I don't know. But being here…I feel hope. Not being trapped forever. Sometimes I just feel how…unfair this is. How the Capitol turns children into soulless monster in this games. How they don't care what they have to do in order to survive.
And I don't want to live with the fear of this happening to someone I love. It's not right what they do. And sometimes, like when my friend was reaped last year, I don't know what I'll do anymore. In times like this I think that they…they have to be stopped. Somehow."
I stare at him. My mouth must hang open, but I don't care.

It's dangerous, very dangerous to think like that. If anyone knew…they would kill him. It's forbidden to think like that. That's criticism on the Capitol. It's more, he wants to defend them, too. I understand him, but why does he tell me? How does he know I won't tell anyone? How does he know here's no one to hear him?

Well, there isn't. This much I can answer myself. But it seems he does really trust me.

He interrupts my thoughts by saying: "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything about it. It's just this new feeling, I guess. A rush of freedom, you know?"

Yes, I guess I know that feeling. But still, how can he…? But it dawns on me that I must have been like that, too, when my father took me out into the forest. I remember how I scared my mother to death with what I said about the Capitol. Maybe it's this forest.

I notice that we've started walking. We must have walked for a while, because I can't see the fence or even my and Gale's meeting place anymore.

Of course I didn't want to take Peeta there. But I haven't noticed we went so far in already.

Peeta is walking straight to a fallen tree. "What are you doing?" I ask, confused.

He turns around and says: "I want to sit there. I like it here. It's beautiful, with all the flowers. I want to paint it."

With that he sits down on the tree trunk: "You can come over, you know?"

He pats the place beside him. I hesitate shortly, but than I go over and sit beside him. He's already taken his sketch block and is drawing what he sees.

And now that I sit here, I can see it, too.

He's right, it is beautiful. Different kind of flowers cover the floor. Mostly white bell flowers, but there are other flowers, too. Purple crocuses and red poppies and anemones. And green grass. In the background birch trees and oaks. And maples. If we had a spile, we could get syrup.

My father had spiles, but he hid them in the forest and I have never been able to find them. After a few tries I gave up. But if we had them I could sell syrup. I'm sure I would earn lots of money with it.

I watch Peeta. He's drawing and I see an expression on his face I've never noticed before. Concentrated, in his own little world.

Not a world like the one my mother was in, not a dark, hopeless world. A world of art and beauty. Maybe a world similar to the one I am in when I hunt. Maybe drawing is his hunting.

I take a look at the picture and once I do, I can't help but stare.

He obviously owns a few colored pencils, because all of the flowers have the right color. But I can only see a green, a blue, a red and a yellow pencil. Did he somehow manage to mix them this good? How does he do it? That can't be just practice. It's simply not possible. He really has got a talent.

But, what I haven't noticed before, there's something on his picture that doesn't belong there. At least it's not here. First I didn't notice, enchanted by the beauty of this picture. But now I realize there, in the middle of the picture, sitting is a girl. A girl with black hair in a braid. She's got one flower in her hand, a dandelion. She must have just picked it and is smiling at it.

It takes a few seconds before it hits me: That's me! That girl, smiling at a dandelion is me. I gasp.
Peeta looks up and sees me staring. "What?"

"Why…why are you drawing me?" I ask, still confused and a bit shocked. Why would he draw me? And how come he can draw me this…good? I mean, the girl on the picture looks like she's just about to laugh, it wouldn't surprise me if I could smell the flowers on the picture. Once again, it just looks so real.

It reminds me of the first picture I saw him drawing. It was of me, too. Back then I didn't question why he got me so real, since Prim drew the picture and he just perfected it.

But now I don't know why he knows what I look like so good. So exact that he was able to draw me in a way even I know without a doubt it's me.

And with a dandelion, too. Why a dandelion? Can he remember how I picked this years ago…?

"Because…I'm so thankful that you took me out here. And I thought there needed to be something on the picture…" He trails of, blushing.

Now I really want to know. What was he going to say that made him blush?

"Something…Something what?" I ask. He blushes more. He has to tell me.

He looks into my eyes: "Something as pretty as you." And he gives me that smile again and it's so sweet and genuine and with juat the right amount of shyness, that I suddenly feel an unfamiliar, unexpected warmth rush through me. I blush.

I didn't expect him to say that. And what was that…thing rushing through me? "You…you think I'm pretty?" Way to make things worse Katniss. Stutter.

But then again, I have every right to stutter. Never before has someone other than Prim or my mother said I'm pretty. Let alone a boy.

At that thought brings me back to reality. No boy tells me I'm pretty. Never before. So what are his motives? Was this really a compliment? Or is there something else? Does he want something? Is he…?

But I don't get to think that thought because he interrupts it: "Yes. I think you're pretty. Is that a crime?"

Oh. He has noticed my expression. But I still don't know. "But why?" I ask. This may be a stupid question but…I have to ask him.

"Why? Because you are. Has no one ever told you?" I shake my head. No. That is what makes me doubt it. "Well, than they are certainly blind. Look at the picture. What do you think?"

He hands me the picture and I look at it. Yes, the girl sitting in the middle of the flowers is…not not pretty. Ok, she is pretty. But…does that mean I am pretty? I mean, this is a drawing. And Peeta is a really good artist, he's already proven that. So maybe he's just made me looking this beautiful with his skills.

Not wanting to talk about that anymore I decide to change the topic.

"Why am I holding a dandelion?" That was my second question and though I don't think he can shock me like this again, I still dread his answer a bit.

He looks at me. "You…I don't know if you remember but on this day…after I gave you the bread you picked a dandelion."

So he does remember. "I do. Remember, I mean. I…wanted to thank you that day. For the bread. But after our eyes met, I…" I don't want to tell him I was embarrassed, so I decide I don't need to tell him. "…I saw this dandelion and…I remembered about something my father told me. Something that would keep us alive. I should have thanked you back then." I say ruefully. Yes, I should have done that. But I didn't. That's the reason I'm sitting here today.

He looks down. "It's okay. I'm glad you remembered what your father told you. I didn't want you to starve."

That's what he said in the bakery. When he said it there Prim interrupted as I wanted to ask him. But here's nobody to interrupt. Maybe I'll get this answer today.

"Why? I mean, it was just me, no one could have blamed you?" I ask the last part, too, to make sure I get my answer.

He sighs. "I already told you. I would have blamed myself. I didn't want you to starve. Remember what I told you earlier? About the Capitol? I am a human being. I wanted to help you because it didn't feel right not to. I didn't want to be one of their monsters, letting you die just because they let your father die in their mines. And I was able to help you. So what should I have done?"

I hadn't expected this. But it does make sense…somehow. He has already told me how he thinks about the Capitol. So he did what he did…because of loyalty? Is that really all there is to it? Or is there something he isn't telling me?

I remember how he emphasized the you the last time we talked about it. There has to be something he isn't telling me. But somehow I don't think he is going to tell me now. But maybe I can…

"But your mother beat you. And you did it all for loyalty?"

"No. My father…when he was our age, he was in love with your mother. And I know he didn't want her children to die. Or her, for that matter. And I didn't want you to die either. It didn't seem right."

His father? In love with my mother? She never mentioned that. Never mentioned him, other than to praise his bread.

But because that is a rude thing to say, I only answer: "Oh, I didn't know that."

Well, at least that would be an answer. But somehow I think he isn't telling me the whole truth. And for some reason I'm not sure if I want to know the whole truth.

He smiles at me. "I didn't think you did. Barely anyone does. I'm not even sure if my mother does." He gets a thoughtful expression. "I suppose it's better if she doesn't."

His mother. Who beat him. Her own child. Who threatened to call the peacekeepers because a poor, desperate, starving, little girl was looking for something to eat in her trash. What has it to be like to have got such a mother?

"What is it like? To live with her? Does she still beat you?"

Peeta gives me a sad look and nods. "Not as often as before, though. Now that we are bigger than her. But…that's not all about her. She can be nice, too. It's just…I know she's always wanted a girl. And my father and she…they don't love each other. I don't think she has always been like that. But it has to have come from marrying a man she doesn't love. I feel sorry for her, you know?"

No, I don't know. I've never wanted to get married, and I still don't want to. So I've never thought about this situation, about how it could affect me. But I only nod.

He smiles and stands up. "Let's talk about something else. And I want to go a bit further. I want to see more.

And that's what we do.
He, with his heavy footsteps scares every animal away. But now, that I'm just wandering through the forest, I see so many things I've never noticed before. Peeta points them out to me.

I see a beautiful clearing, covered in purple flowers. These flowers look like they're glowing. Peeta draws them. And again I stare at his art. It's as though he's taken a photo. I've never seen this clearing before but I remember the forest around it. I've never paid attention.

I see birds in the sky, but this time I'm not trying to shoot them. I'm watching them and listening to the melodies they're singing.

I remember how my father would sing and the birds would stop singing. That's how beautiful his voice was. I am a bit sad again, thinking about how easy, how carefree life was back then.

But I forget about it when I look at Peeta. He's unpacked his bag and now I see he wasn't only carrying his painting equipment, but some bread, too. Only now I realize how hungry I am. But I'm still a bit reluctant to actually eat it, because I don't have anything to pay back.

"Oh, just eat it. You can give me a squirrel free the next time you come to sell one to my father." He smiles, though. As if he had known I would hesitate. Well, I suppose he did know.

But he surprises me, though. I can't stop myself from asking: "You eat them?"

He looks at me. Confused. "Of course. What did you think?"

I always assumed the baker would eat the squirrels alone. Not because of greed. But what would his wife say if she knew he was buying things from "Seam brats".

But I only shrug. "I don't know."

He drops it and we move on to other topics while we eat. It's easy to talk to him, really. I remember how awkward it was when we first talked today. But he seems to have long since gotten over it.

I tell him about my years hunting, funny stories about my encounter with a bear and how we both wanted the honey in the tree. I tell him how Gale and I shot a deer and the people in the hob almost ripped it to shreds because they wanted to buy it.

He tells me about his work at the bakery, how he and Delly Cartwright, the daughter of the owner's of the candy store and the sister of the woman who got married last Sunday, baked little people.

"We also drew with chalk. Animals like pigs and goats. Those where the first things I painted. I tried flowers, too. Later, after a few years or so. My father and Delly always told me how good they thought they were." He tells me, smiling as he remembers the old times.

I'm smiling too. It feels a long time ago that I did something and just enjoyed it. It is a long time ago. I haven't felt like this since my father died.

It's crazy that I started talking to Peeta only about a week ago and though I can feel like that. I guess it has something to do with the fact that he gave me the bread. I know more about him then I thought I do. Little, unimportant things, but I know them.

We pack the bag and walk a bit further again. Suddenly, he stops.

"What?", I ask him. "Do you see that?" He asks quietly. I take a closer look at my surroundings. But I don't see anything. So I shake my head.

"The sunset." He says. "Do you see how beautiful it is? So much more beautiful than inside the district. Like it doesn't belong there, with all the coal and grief, but here, with trees, nature and life."

Unconsciously he's drawn his sketch book and is starting to draw the outlines.

I see what he means now. In front of us is a rock, big enough to split the trees so we can see the sky. And Peeta's right. It's a breathtaking view.

But it reminds me that we have to go now. We have to go home, so we are there before night falls.

But somehow, I don't want this day to end. When I agreed to take Peeta out here, I'd never have believed the day would be this good. And I certainly wouldn't have believed it is this easy to talk to Peeta. But it is. And I realize that I want more of this. More of discovering the beauty of the forest and just…enjoying.

I know I can't, though. I still have to provide my family. No amount of happiness can change that. Haven't I always lived like that anyway? Not doing anything but hunting and selling things at the hob? That was my life. Well, that is my life.

But something is different though. Maybe that I tried something different today. But I can't let this turn into an always.

And then there's something inside me, something that barely talks to me, that I barely let out. It's the girl that wants more than just surviving. The girl that wants to let reality go for a few hours and that wants to be carefree again. The girl that dreams.

The girl I was before my father died.

And this girl tells me that I can do it. No every day, my usual mind argues. The girl agrees, but asks why not sometimes? If I know the forest better, I have new places to hunt. Because even animals are drawn to beauty. And even if I'm not easily impressed by it, I'm still not oblivious to it.

"We have to go now." I tell Peeta, trying to shake my thoughts about that away. But Peeta doesn't allow this.

He doesn't look at me: "Yeah. But…" He hesitates. "What?", I ask him.

He looks me directly in the eyes now and says: "Is that all now? I mean, will we go back to pretending we don't know each other now that your dept is paid? Will I never see this woods again? Never feel this freedom again?"

Exactly one week ago I thought about his first question. Even back then it didn't seem right to me to just go back to ignoring him. But now it doesn't even more. Not after today.

It's not only it doesn't seem right. I don't want to. Yes, today gave me answers, but it also renews questions.

And I want to find my answers. How am I supposed to do that if we pretend not to know each other?

And with his other questions he's brought back what I wanted to loose in the first place. The question about repeating this day. And he wants to repeat this, too. The hopeful smile he gives me, with his pleading eyes, doesn't really help my reluctant side. Quite the opposite, actually. It helps the other side.

I sigh: "No. I don't think so. I…I think we could do this again."

Hey! This words came out without permission. But I guess a promise is a promise, huh? I mean I can't back down now, can I? And to be honest, I don't think I want to.

"But…you have to wait a bit. I have to provide my family. I have to hunt."

He laughs. After a moment of confusion I know why. This were the words I told him when he first asked me to be taken out here.

"I suppose that's okay. I have to work to, you know?" He grins, reminding me of his answer, the one that surprised me back then.

I can't help but smile, too. This is the reason I want to do this again. Because of this little moments where I am happy.

And then I answer, unlike last time: "I know."

His grin grows wider and he laughs. Then we make our way back home.

After we're in the district again he draws something out of his bag. A picture. He hands it to me.

"Here. This is the one I drew of you sitting in the middle of the flowers. I know this day was supposed to be a thank you to me, but I want to thank you, though. And this is a picture of you anyway. So please, take it."

I consider not taking it, but why shouldn't I? He's right, it is a picture of me. Why would he need it? And I'm pretty sure Prim would be mad if I didn't show her one of the pictures Peeta drew in the woods. So, with a sigh, I accept it.

He brings me home and thanks me again. But when it's time to say good bye, neither of us knows what to do. We stay there a few seconds, just staring at each other.

So, to prevent us from staying here the whole night, I awkwardly take his hand and shake it. "See you around, I suppose?"

He smiles and answers: "I suppose." Then he squeezes my hand gently and goes home.

I go inside and take a look at the picture once more. I didn't think of it earlier, but now I remember how, when we were in the bakery, he said: "I want to show it to persons who can use some beauty in their lives."

Do I need some beauty in my life?

Good questions, Katniss.

Phew, that was a long chapter. My hands hurt. But once I started, I wasn't able to stop. And I wrote and wrote and wrote.

Did you like it? And in this chapter, before you judge about how in-character they are, please try to remember how Katniss acted when she talked to him before the first games, where she thought he wanted to kill her. And now try to think how it would go if she didn't think like that. And then you'll get how I come to her behavior in this chapter.

And now to something I think you won't like so much. I won't be able to write much in the next days, because I have to study. Latin. If you learn Latin, you'll understand when I say I have to study a lot. Argh, I hate grammar! But what has to be done has to be done, I want to pass.
But like I said, that means I won't have much time to write, so you'll probably have to wait for the next chapter longer than usual.

I'll try my best, though. Please make me happy and REVIEW!