A/N: Thank you so much Aria-dancingdolphins15 (you did actually manage to review with your iPod without a spelling error I noticed. Every time I {try to} do that, there are millions of spelling errors;)), elisemellark, aihpomila (thank you! You made me sooo happy! You have no idea!), HungerGamesLover1020 (Who hasn't seen it? My friend watched 'Braking Dawn', only to see that trailer in cinema. And yes, Josh IS perfect), CharmChaser (Oh, you'll find someone eventually. Everyone {except me, I don't want to} does), Meg123 (I like your reason for me to update;)), Kari (LOL xD. Thank you so much. I'm blushing. But unfortunately, I'm not Suzanne Collins :P), DandelionOnFire (Thanks again), ()[Sorry, not quite sure how I can thank you without a name, but this is supposed to be the thanks for the reviewer without a name], musicalexpert (yeah, that's true. But Peeta can't always say everything so Katniss is able to understand. And don't worry about how you end your review, important is the feedback) and KissPeeta.

There's an important A/N at the end of this chapter. Please read!

Disclaimer: There are many thinks I wish I'd own. The Hunger Games, for example. But unfortunately, I don't.

Chapter 9:

I have lain awake the whole night, thinking about Peeta's words.

After he left, I was confused. And stunned. Not in a bad way, of course. But I never thought Peeta would think like that.

Now that I think about it, it shouldn't be surprising. He is always kind and he has always shown how much he dislikes the games.

But I've never come closer to his mind then two days ago.

I also know how Gale thinks about the games. His thoughts are always about the hate he feels. His rage, his want to do something about it.

I know Peeta does want to do something about the games, too. But what he is trying is fascinating. Of course he is right about some people bringing goodness in the world. Himself. And, like he said, Prim.

But to actually replace what has been destroyed is a big endeavor. It still seems like a dream, a desire that is so extraordinary that I can't understand it.

It's like he wants to change the world, to make this a better place.

And this is impossible. No amount of kindhearted-ness can save Panem or those children. Nothing can.

Neither boldness nor hate nor rage nor a good heart. Neither can do it a few persons as entirely good as Peeta, persons with the best and the most unbelievable intentions.

Thinking about that used to make me feel tired. But how Peeta talked about the tributes, how he wanted to remember them, it sparked something in me. Something that makes me think about things like what would be the right thing to do, what we could actually do about it.

I shake my head. That's nothing I should think about too much. This is dreaming and I don't want to dwell on dreams that won't come true. Or dreams at all.

"Katniss, you're doing it again." I snap out of my thoughts. Prim is right. I have to stop thinking about that. I've tried to all day. But I can't. Somehow my mind always comes back to it.

"What are you even thinking about? What is so important that you can't seem to stop?"

Should I tell her? Not about everything Peeta said, of course. Not that I don't trust her. But if she told the wrong person Peeta would be arrested. I sigh.

"Yesterday, after you went to bed, I had a conversation with Peeta. And he said something I don't understand." Prim is a lot like Peeta. Maybe, if I just tell her a few things, she will be able to help me.

"What was it?"

"He told me why he watches the games, even the recaps. He said he wanted to…somehow bring back the goodness that was in the tributes. But he can't. They're dead, aren't they?"

Prim, to my surprise, smiles: "Yes Katniss, they are. And I know why you don't understand. Think about your believes, about how you see life. Peeta sees it in a whole different way. I don't know how to explain it to you. I guess you have to figure it out yourself."

And with that she leaves, probably to milk Lady.

Great. Just great. Now I'm more confused than I was before.

It's true, Peeta and I have very different views on life. We are different persons, as different as possible.

He is a dreamer, he said so himself. He is kind, never selfish, always thinking about other persons and protective of others. Even of me, though I don't need to be protected. But I've seen him stand up for others. Not only his friends, but small children he doesn't even know, too.

I'm impolite and even though I know it's probably not the right thing to do, I'd never help someone I don't know. I'm defiantly not the best person on this earth. And I don't dream.

But is that the reason I don't understand him?

I sigh. I guess it is. Well, I could just talk to him later. Prim invited him again for the games. It was quite funny to watch her, how she pouted and gave him her hangdog look. Of course he couldn't say no.

Just then, I hear a knock on the door. It's still half an hour until the games start, but I think it is Peeta though. Who else would it be?

When I open it, I find out I'm right. "Katniss", he says. "Hey."

Prim would hug him now and for a moment I think about doing that, too. But I don't. I mean, I'm not like Prim and I…don't have the courage to do it. Which is strange, because it isn't as though we hadn't hugged before. But never as a greeting.

"Where is Prim?", he asks.

"I don't know. But I think she's milking Lady." Then I realize I'm still standing in the doorframe and take a step back. "Come in. I'm sure she's going to be back in a few minutes."

He does and once we're both sitting on the couch, facing each other I speak up again: "You don't have to watch the games alone today. I'll watch too."

This is good, since I can not only bring up the topic again, but also don't have to feel guilty about that anymore.

"Why? You don't have to just because I do. I know you hate the games." Well, I can't deny this is a good argument.

Especially with his eyes, now locked with mine. He looks like he is trying to convince me with them. And they are the reason I find it hard to concentrate on my answer.

"I want to understand you." Wait. That wasn't the answer I wanted to give. Where did that come from? He wasn't supposed to know. It must be something about his eyes.

"Understand me?" Now they are questioning me, but still not leaving mine.

I swallow, trying to answer the right thing that time: "What you said yesterday. The reason you watch the games. Well, I didn't really understand it, to be honest. Prim says that's because we're so different. And now I guess…I want to see what you mean."

When did I start talking this much? And above all, when did I start to talk about my feelings? What is this?

He smiles, his eyes still not leaving mine. I wish they would already. I realize that he hasn't done that in months. And it's as though he's got me under some kind of spell. I'm unable to look anywhere else.

"Well, Prim is right, huh? We are different. But that doesn't mean you won't be able to understand it. Just…do you have to watch the games?"

He's trying to protect me again. He doesn't say so, but it's clear that's what he wants. He told me yesterday he thinks I deserve it, but actually I think he deserves it more than I do. I saw his expression while he was watching. Not carefree, not happy, nothing like usual. I saw a mask of bitterness and sadness.

And I didn't like it. I want to see Peeta with dimples in his cheeks while he smiles. I want his eyes to shine and not to be full of sorrow.

Just like I do with Prim. I realize what that means. I'm actually becoming protective of him.

I need to look away right now. Before those thoughts continue. So, taking all my willpower, I am finally able to pry my eyes away from his.

With new confidence, now undistracted, I answer: "Yes. I mean, what would you do? Don't lie to me, I know you'd never don't try to figure it out."

He sighs. "You're right. But I don't want anyone I l…" He cuts himself off, blushing. But why? What was he going to say? He coughs.

"I don't want you or Prim to have to watch the games. You've already gone through so much. You just have to suffer more when you watch the games."

He means it, I can tell. But that isn't what he originally wanted to say.

And just as I'm about to ask him, Prim comes through the door. She has got a bucket with milk, so I guessed right. But it bothers me that I don't get to ask Peeta.

Prim runs over to Peeta as soon as she sees him. But she drops the bucket before. So I have a reason to just go and bring it to the table.

Peeta, when I steal a glance at him, seems relieved and I don't even need to ask why. But I will get my answer. If not now, than later.

Soon after Prim came in the games stared. We were all sitting on the couch again by the time the anthem played.

For the first half hour there wasn't much happening, other than the tributes looking for water. But then, suddenly, there is a lightening bolt hitting a tree. Seems the games makers got bored.

The two tributes that are near the tree are now approaching one another. They run away, but in the same direction. Neither has got a weapon, but that doesn't stop them from a fight.

I knew this was going to happen. Just kill. Whenever, wherever they meet. I don't let Prim watch.

I do watch. But when they start crawling each others eyes out I can't stop myself from grabbing Peeta's hand again.

If only I knew why I do that. Maybe because I know he is trying to protect me. The last person that protected me was my father. And I was used to holding hands with him.

So is it that? The way Peeta reminds me of my father?

Now that I think about it, it makes sense. I mean, they are alike. Not like Prim and Peeta. Not their characteristics.

But their believes. I know my father dreamed. He sang about it. He always tried to see the best in every human being. He once told me he wanted to live in a world without greed or hate. He said it would be possible, if only every human being would concentrate on their heart.

I always thought that is naïve. I don't believe in the good in man. But I know Peeta thinks something along those lines.

He doesn't sing, but he speaks. He is good with words, after all he managed to get me thinking about his. He confused me, yes, but he also woke my curiosity and I try to understand now.

Usually I would just say that's unreal and can be forgotten. But there is something about the way he talks that doesn't let me forget.

It's not easy though. Because when I stare at the screen now, where I see one child trying to shove the other against a tree where the next lightening will most likely strike, how am I supposed to feel anything but pity and hate?

How can Peeta, who is watching the same scene, think about their past, about what could be? That's not realistic. Because one of the two is going to die, what does it matter what once was? And how can anybody bring back the goodness in the child that dies?

I watch the whole games like this today. But realization never comes.

After they are over, Prim and mother go to bed.

And again, it's just Peeta and me. "Do you understand me now?"

Right. I told him this is what I was trying. "No. I mean, I tried, but it's just so…how can you think like that?"

He smiles and answers: "I thought so. That you don't understand me."

That makes me frustrated. That's not an answer. I'm about to point that out when he says the last thing I expected. "Katniss? Would you mind going into the woods now?"

I'm stunned. Now? I don't understand. I mean, it's evening. When we are on our trips, this is usually the time we return. So what…?

"Why now? Why the woods?"

"Now, because we won't have time to do it until after the games again. And the woods because that is the place you are the most free. It's the only place where you might be able to understand."

Way to make me even more confused. Why should the place matter? But then again, maybe he is right. After all, the forest is where I hide from reality and every thought.

"Isn't it a bit late? What would your parents say?" Why do I have a feeling I'm going to visit the woods tonight?

He huffs. "They don't care. I don't even think they will notice. So what is your answer? Yes or no?"

It is indeed late. But I don't have school tomorrow. Prim and mother are to exhausted and tired to notice. And I want to know. So, once again, curiosity wins over prudence.

"Ok." His response is a smile.

After we are behind the fence I remember something. "You wanted to say something a few hours ago. But you didn't finish the sentence. You said something else."

I notice how he stiffens a bit. He remembers, too. But he says: "What are you talking about?" If I hadn't seen him stiffen, I would actually believe he doesn't know. His tone is just that innocent.

I roll my eyes. "You know what I'm talking about. You didn't want anyone you…that's where you stopped talking. And I just want to know what you were going to say."

"Oh that. Well, I wanted to say I don't want anyone I know to watch the games." It would fit. But why didn't he say that? Why did he blush? Why do I think he is lying again?

"Why would you not want to say that?" Now I'm really interested in his answer.

He seems to think about that a few seconds. "I don't know. Maybe because something interrupted me?"

Now he is definitely lying. And that angers me. Why can't he just tell me the truth? "Oh, don't lie to me! You blushed!"

He does it again. Blush, I mean. Then he whispers: "You don't want to know."

I'm taken aback and more frustrated now. "What? I do!"

"I'll tell you. But later. We're not here to answer this question. I wanted to try to explain you what I mean, remember?" This boy is not stupid. He can change the topic in a matter of seconds. And somehow, I can't be frustrated anymore. After all, I want my answer.

This reminds me of yesterday. When he didn't answer why he wouldn't be able to provide his family. In his opinion. I still think he could do it. So I sigh. But I will get my answers. At this very moment, I make a deal with myself. In two weeks, I will have my answers.

"Go on. Explain. We're out here now and you said I would be able to understand here."

He seems surprised he managed to convince me that easily. I have to hold back a grin. He doesn't know. "Okay Katniss. But it is not easy though." He only starts talking again when we are both sitting on a tree trunk, because he thinks this will take longer. "You aren't an artist. At least not the way I am."

"What does that have to do with the Hunger Games?" He is supposed to answer me. Not to confuse me even more.

He chuckles. "Let me finish." I nod. I won't interrupt him again. "When I talk, I always have a picture in my head. Something I try to describe. That is the way it is with the Hunger Games, too. When I watch them, I try to understand everything. You were right, you know. When you said I would try to figure everything out. That's exactly the way it is.

I need to have those pictures in my mind. If I don't have them, I feel helpless. Those images are my view on the world. On everything, from the stupidest homework through to the way our government works. I helps me to see things clear, to see things other people don't see.

And when I watch the Games, I have a image of helplessness and fear in my mind. I picture the tributes. I look into their eyes, trying to figure them out. I don't know. Sometimes I feel as though I wanted to know how they feel, so maybe I could find a way to stop everything from happening."

He must have seen how I opened my mouth, because he holds a hand up to stop my from talking.

"No, don't say anything. I know this is impossible. But sometimes, especially in their last seconds, I can almost feel their despair. And I don't want any of them to die. Though I don't know them, they feel like they are a little part of me. After all, they're humans. They are the same species as I am and nature made us want our species to survive. Of course it's true that we first protect ourselves, like I said, but have you ever thought about the reason we won't eat another human unless we won't survive if we don't? Because it is immoral and disgusting, yes, but the reason for that is that it's our own species.

I mean, even the people in the Capitol don't like cannibalism. Do you remember Titus, a tribute a few years ago? He was murdered by them because he was a cannibal."

And that's when I realize the real reason we're out here. It's not only my point of view about life. But if anyone heard him talking like this, we'd be dead. No one calls the Capitol a murderer.

"So I have to believe in the good in man. Even though they created and even enjoy the games, they still have humanness left. That doesn't mean I don't despise the Capitol and the Hunger Games, but do you understand what I mean?

If even those unbelievably cruel persons have feelings and goodness, even if it is somewhere hidden, there must be goodness in every tribute. Especially in those that aren't Careers.

But when they die, that would mean there is this goodness vanished. Forever. But if I do something good, it doesn't even have to be much, I get the feeling, the image it didn't vanish. I think that maybe it just flies around, waiting for someone to use it.

I know you may not be able to understand it yet. But can you at least see how I think and maybe you will understand…somehow."

With that his speech is over. It was impressive. And even though he is right, I am not an artist, I can see what he means. I can just imagine Peeta drawing everything in his mind. That would explain why he is such a great painter.

And if he thinks like that about the citizens of the Capitol, I think it can make sense to think of the tributes as always good man, even to me.

And though his point of view is still strange in my opinion, I have a feeling I was finally able to take a step to understanding him and his dreams.

"Thank you. For explaining, I mean. I understand you better now. But when did you start thinking about this?" I'm really interested in this, too. I can't imagine him as a little child thinking like that. But he seems to have thought about this a lot.

"I don't know, actually. I have always had a picture in my head. And somehow, when I got older and watched the games more carefully, I got those thoughts. My father always educated me like this, too. He said the world has enough evil, bad things going on. My father isn't a man of big words. But he told me that I have a good heart and that I should not change." He smiles at that memory. So at least his father cares about him.

And I agree. Peeta shouldn't change. He has one of the best, most innocent hearts. Like Prim and like my father. And even though I don't understand him completely, even though I disagree with him about a few things, like the good in every man, I know he is one of the best persons in Panem.

"Katniss?" he interrupts my thoughts. What does he want now?

"Yes?"

He bites his lip, hesitating. "Remember what I said about us not going to be able to come out here in the next weeks?" Where is he going? What does he mean?

"Yes." Wow. My choice of words is really varying. "Why?"

"Well, because now that I'm out here, I don't want to leave. Not so soon. I want to stay a bit. But…not without you. So…what I'm trying to ask is would you mind staying?"

I didn't expect that to be his question. But now that I think about it, I don't want to leave either. I like our days in the woods and now, with the games, I can really need a distraction.

I smile at him. "Not at all."

He seems so happy and his expression is so…cute that I have a sudden urge to hug him. I don't do it though. I don't even know where that came from.

Come to think of it, that happens quite often lately. I don't know the reason, but at the moment I don't care.

Peeta takes my hand and helps me up and though I don't need it, I don't push his hand away. After holding it for three hours while watching the games, it feels familiar in mine. Familiar and right.

We spend nearly the whole night out there, doing other things than usual. Peeta, always the artist, points out how different the colors are.

I see animals I've never seen before. Nocturnal animals. I've never been in the woods at night and now I regret it. It's as beautiful as it is in daylight, maybe even more.

When we are to exhausted to wander around anymore and find a small clearing, we watch the night sky.

"I said once the sunset belongs here. And I still think so. But the stars and the moon do even more. I wish I could draw them."

I smile. Typical Peeta. Always wanting to draw everything, to keep every moment. "You can do that when you come home."

"It won't be the same. I don't think I will be able to remember every detail." He sounds a bit upset.

This time, I actually laugh. Leave it to Peeta to be upset about something like that. "What? Why are you laughing at me?" He says in a fake hurt tone, which makes me laugh even more.

"Oh nothing. It's just that I wouldn't be able to draw more than a few yellow dots on a blue background." He laughs, too.

"I could teach you." I snort at that thought. "Oh, come on. I'm no artist, you said so yourself."

"You aren't. But who says you can't try?" No, you will not talk me into drawing lessons.

"I do. I'm a lost cause, believe me." I am indeed. Prim tried to teach me once. The success was...rather modest.

Then we playfully fight a while about whether or not I should learn it, until we're both too tired to come up with new arguments.

Before we fall asleep, we decide to go home. It would be dangerous with all the animals out here, animals that surely wouldn't mind sleeping prey.

He brings me home, wishes me a good night, "Or what is left of it", he says with a wink and then makes his way home.

I can't help but smile. I totally forgot about the games out there. But I didn't forget about the promise to myself. I will get my answers.

READ THIS! IT'S IMPORTANT!

I wanted to ask you something (since HungerGamesLover1020 asked me). What I do is trying to show the discontent in the districts a bit in Katniss' and Peeta's mind. Well, the growing discontent, actually. Because this is needed for a rebellion. So my question is if I should write a rebellion, or only do an epilogue. Don't worry, the end of this story isn't too close, but if I decide to write the actual rebellion, I have to start doing it soon.
And I might have to change some things, like the genre and I'll have to take the 'it's rated T but you can read it if you're younger than it, too' back, because a war is definitely NOTHING for someone who is nine or ten. At least not the way I'd write it. I'm a realist and in my opinion, there is no way to moderate a war.
So you see, it's really important for me to know. You can review or PM me and there is a Poll on my profile, use the way you like, I will count everything together.

That's it. Chapter nine.

I'm sorry, this chapter isn't my best, but it was necessary. Katniss original intention was to get to know Peeta and I want her to slowly realize how he thinks.

Yeah, well, do you know what you should do now? No?

Leave me a REVIEW!