A/N: Thank you SOOOO much Aria-dancingdolphins15 (Thank you:D Here is your answer:D), Takeiteasycharlie (Thanks. I did it because that's exactly how me and my brother communicate. And I know other siblings that do it too, so I thought...why should Katniss and Prim be different?), Kari (yeah, that wouldn't have worked...anyway, I'm writing two stories for mysef. I might post one {In memoriam}. It's the book they wrote about the characters that died...but at the moment I'm still writing about Prim...it's not easy. Yeah, that and a little bit of real plot, but it's more like just the book. The other one will be posted when I'm done with this story {and sequel}. I need much time for it and it must have my full attention when I decide to post it. And thanks:D), DandelionOnFire (Good thing I wrote a PM...this would have been SO much:D Thanks again!), InLoveWithPeeta (ha,ha, thanks:D), moka000(Yeah well...we all do;)), ohmygawdpeeta (here's the update:D), HungerGamesLover1020, Bucsfan37 (ha,ha, ok:D), bethespark (Awww THANK YOU! Yeah, we all love him;)), BBree23 (You're welcome:)), ThexBoyxWithxThexBread(I'm glad you think so:D), yeeeitscarmen (Thanks:) Even though the book idea is Suzanne Collins', so actually she should get your compliment;)), nodaybut2day7 (Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. Sometimes I don't know how to describe/write something. You have to remember that I don't write this in my native language. If you want to know how I write in German, I've written an one-shot...yeah...if you speak German, that is:) And thank you:D), Just me (He, he, THANK YOU! Of course I keep writing:D), CharmChaser, MissAriannaDark (oook. Guess what, just keep reading. I think it will make sense eventually...And THANK YOUxD), aihpomila (Thanks:D I'm glad you liked it...and didn't disown me;)), RowebotRowe (WOW, THAT is a compliment! THANK YOUXD), Alexis (Yes, that's a relief:D), star11365 (THANK YOU! For saying that, I meanxD), Aloha-Pinkly (Thanks! You have no idea how much that means to mexD), HUngerGAmes1312 (These are brilliant ideas, but when I saw your review the chapter was almost done and...:( BUT I want to use one in the next chapter...not exactly like you said, but the idea came from it:D), lucindamellark (ha,ha, you did;))

AND HERE A SHOUT OUT TO 'Embracing-Immensity', WHO ACTUALLY REVIEWED EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER! THANK YOU!

And now: I made a time jump (again), but I think it was implied in the last chapter:D I have a few flashbacks for you to know what happened:D

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games

Chapter 17:

Until that day.

It's fall now, the leaves brown on the trees and there are also some that cover the ground. The sun is shining though and there are no clouds covering the blue sky. It's cold though. The temperature has sunken and I have to clutch my father's hunting jacket tightly to me. It's Saturday, my first free one in weeks, so I insisted in going out here with Peeta in order to work on the book.

Peeta. I look up at him and smile.

When Prim found out we are talking again it was an understatement to say she was happy. "WHAT? So THAT is the reason your smile is so huge!" were her first words. She then hugged me, taking me by surprise. I didn't think that it was so important to her, but she beamed at me and the next time she saw Peeta she run up to him and throw herself at him, causing him to stumble and fall. I burst out laughing and had to clutch my stomach because of the confused expression on Peeta's face. Especially when he shot me that questioning look, which was answered by new laugher and he pretended to be hurt. After Prim and I had calmed down she explained to him why she had practically knocked him over.

Gale wasn't that happy. In fact, he wasn't happy at all. He glared and shouted at me again. "Katniss, I thought we already had this discussion! He is not good for you!" At first I was surprised. Surprised and a little angry. What happened to 'she misses you'? That was what Gale had told Peeta on the clearing. I even opened my mouth to point that out, but in the last second it came to me that this was probably not the best argument. After all, I'm not supposed to know about their conversation. So I swallowed it and bore his bad mood until he didn't glare at me anymore. He only glares at Peeta, every time he sees him, but I'm not sure if he's really that angry with him. They didn't seem to hate each other. But then again, that was at a point of time where Peeta and I weren't talking. So does it really count?

I'm not sure if my mother noticed it, but she smiles at him whenever she sees him.

Peeta's words snap me out of my thoughts. "What kind of flower is this? Is it in the book already?"

I look at him, trying to find the flower he's referring to. He points at one, one with white petals and a yellow center. I immediately remember it, even though it isn't in the book. My father once pointed it out to me.

"Katniss", he says. "Do you see this flower?" I look at him quizzically. Of course I do. It's right in front of me. So I nod, which makes him smile.

"That's a camomile." Before he can continue I ask him: "Why are you showing me this one? It's not pretty. It's just white, nothing special!" He laughs and shakes his head.

"Yes Katniss, it is." He replies.

Before I can ask any further questions he begins to explain. "It isn't supposed to be here, you know. It's a not only a flower but also a herb. Before, when this place was still North America, it didn't grow here. It grew somewhere else, but this place has been destroyed just like everything else. Except Panem, of course. But there were people who bred them here, in so-called greenhouses. They say there are also greenhouses in the Capitol, but I don't know, since I've never been there.

Anyway, when they were destroyed, along with everything else, the camomiles adapted themselves to their new environment. They grew and people learned how to use them. Your mother uses them a lot, too. It helps against stomach troubles and against inflammation. She makes tea out of it, so called camomiles-tea. It actually does help, it's what you drink every time your stomach hurts, you know."

That's what he told me back then and when I remember it, I have to swallow. Peeta seems to notice, because he asks: "Is everything alright?"

For some reason I don't want to tell him that this plant reminds me of my father. He would only feel guilty, like he did when he brought up the jacket this day we first went out here.

So I nod. "Yeah, everything is fine, it just reminded me of the last time I was sick." I lie. He looks at me suspiciously, probably figuring I lied, but he's polite enough not to say anything about it.

"So it makes you feel sick?" Is his question instead.

This time, I actually laugh. No, this is the last plant to make one feel sick. "No. Actually, it's a herb. It's called camomile. It reminds me of being sick because I got tea with it as an ingredient as medicine."

Peeta nods. Of course he didn't know that. His mother isn't a healer and neither is his father. But he knows very much about bread, even bread from other districts. During the last Hunger Games, which he watched with us again, a tribute from district four was sent some bread. Peeta immediately told us what is different about it. How they bake it with more salt and sometimes in the form of a fish, because it's their district. Fishing. Everything there is salty.

In the same conversation he told us how much he would like to see the ocean once. Not in the television but in reality. I could see desire in his eyes, desire to see something outside of district twelve. I can't blame him. I, myself, would like to see the ocean. Of course I have gone swimming in the little lake in the forest, but I think it would be different on the coast of district four.

But, thanks to the Capitol, that wish will never come true. We are not allowed to visit other districts, not allowed to go anywhere but where we belong.

"Do you want to try it again?", he asks and because he must see my confused expression he adds: "Drawing it. This one isn't that hard."

I look at the flower again. I haven't considered drawing it before. Well, I haven't considered drawing anything before Peeta came along, actually. Last week he kind of gave up on trying to teach me, since I proved him right in what he said. I am no artist. At least I thought he had given up. But apparently, it was just a short break for me, because now he seems to be trying it again.

I look at him with doubt. "You know I can't draw. Or sketch. You've seen my pathetic tries." I smile at him. I don't like calling something I've done pathetic, but it's true.

He raises his eyebrow, trying to force me to look at him. More like look in his eyes. But I don't. I won't. I still haven't figured out what to do against this big blue orbs that make me say and think…things that shouldn't be thought or said.

He gives up after a few seconds, but he doesn't give up on talking. "Yeah…I thought I could help you this time?"

How? Hasn't he already done everything to help me? Hasn't he already told me the exact stoop to put the color and I somehow managed to mess it somewhat up though.

As I told him, I'm a lost cause.

He must see how confused I am, because he adds: "You know, I thought we could…try to do it like this."

And then he gives me the book and a pencil. He then opens the book and flips through it until he finds an empty page. Then, short hesitating, he takes my hand and makes the first green stroke.

I'm so surprised that I pull back and look at him in shock. I honestly didn't expect that. We haven't touched since…since the reaping a few weeks ago, I guess.

I was nervous again, but this time even more than before. It was my last year. But that also meant there were twenty-eight slips entered this time. Four more than in the last year. And then there also were Prim's three slips to worry about, as well as the ones for Rory, Vick and Peeta. It was his last year, too, so his name was entered seven times. I think. I'm not sure, because it was a hard winter and they may have needed the food…but no. I don't think so. He's a merchant, after all.

Anyway, I was worried and there was nothing to stop me from worrying. So Peeta did the same thing he did last year, the only thing that came to his mind I think, he took my hands and together we waited for the names to get called. Right after it was over and I realized we won't ever be reaped, won't ever have to go into the Hunger Games I hugged him. I was glad and relieved.

That resulted in my realizing what I was doing after a few seconds and a lot of muttered, embarrassed hems and refusing to look at one another. It was the first time we touched since that day and it was just the perfect reminder.

Other than that we managed to pretend nothing had ever happened between us. Except a few comments of Peeta that made me feel me guilty, because it were references to his feelings for me. Those that were more than friendship, those I couldn't, can't return.

They go as fast as they come, but every single one of them leaves me feeling more guilty. Only because I am so selfish he has to suffer.

Peeta's voice once again interrupts my thoughts. "OK, if you don't want to draw this way you don't have to. It was only an idea…"

I shake my head to clear it. He starts pulling his hand away but I stop him. He looks at me questioningly. "It's okay, I was just surprised, that's everything."

While saying it I realize that I am really okay with it. I mean, he's only trying to help me draw. There is no other way, that's a fact. And this is just friendship anyway. He knows how I think and he accepted it and it's not as though we hadn't held hands before. Neither is it as if it feels wrong. I mean, I've had this hand around mine so many times it just feels normal and good. It's warm and strong. And there isn't really a reason not to take his offer.

So I put my hand with his on top ever the page again and say: "Now teach me so we can get over with it. I want to write what I know, because I'm pretty sure I can do a better job on that." I turn around to grin at him, only to realize just how close his face is.

Before anything can happen though I quickly face the book again, feeling myself blushing. Perfect. Now I managed to make this awkward again. Great Katniss, really, I scold myself mentally.

Peeta clears his throat from behind me and then he starts talking as though nothing happened: "See, you just have to look at the plant in front of you. Can you see where the petals cast a shadow on the stalk? That's where you have to increase the pressure you put on the pencil a bit, so it gets darker."

He forces my hand to do exactly what he wants with his. His hand mimics his words.

"And now you do the same to every leaf shadowing the stalk. They also shadow each other. That's a bit more difficult, because now you have to start drawing them, too. You have to concentrate on every streak."

I watch as I see how the flower in front of me grows in the book. Because that's what it looks like. It's as though we were taking a photo, inch by inch, until we could puzzle the pieces together. My hand is practically doing nothing, just feeling, noticing when he increases the pressure and when he deceases it. But it happens so fast that I can barely register it, much less memorize it so I could do it myself. Well, I doubt I could do it myself even if I was able to memorize it.

"Now it comes to the most difficult part. The actual flower. You have to look how exactly they are positioned, if they are really just white or if there is even the slightest bit of yellow or beige mixed with it. What is it in this case?", he asks.

I was so mesmerized by him talking and the colors on the paper that it takes me a few seconds to notice he's talking to me.

"What? Oh yeah, um…" I glance at the petals, trying to find even the slightest hint of another color. But nothing. There's just a plain, innocent white.

"It's white." I tell him. "Nothing but white." When I say that I'm reminded of my previous life. It's as if I'm answering the question of a teacher, which I haven't done in years. School is wasting time, hunting time. But when my father was still alive I did listen and I did like it sometimes.

I wonder why he's doing this. I mean, why is he asking me like that?

"You may wonder why I'm asking you that." Am I sure he can't read my mind? But since I'm interested in the answer, I nod.

"Well, if I had just drawn it now, you wouldn't have paid attention to the details. And you should pay attention. Otherwise it won't succeed."

There's a tone in his voice, something that makes me wonder if he really means just the drawing with it. But then again, what else should he mean?

I just nod, signalizing him I understood. I mean, I did, but somehow, I didn't. I think that's something you can't understand without being an artist.

I feel his hand move, taking the pencil in my hand with it. Of course, that makes sense, I mean, we can't draw with green, but when he makes my hand take a yellow one, I'm confused.

"Why yellow? There is no yellow." I tell him again. Peeta just smiles.

"Yes, but I don't have white. And the page of the book is yellow, too. An older yellow, yes, but still. And you will think of a white plant when you only see the picture."

And with that he starts, once again explaining everything. But I don't listen. I listen to the birds singing, to the leaves rustling and to my own breath. Or his. I'm not so sure. But it's a lot easier to concentrate on the flower this way, how it's literally growing.

I don't realize how far I'm slipping away until I feel my back pressed against something warm and solid.

This of course, startles me and my eyes immediately grow wide and I shift, so there are a few inches separating us again. He does something I didn't expect him to. He chuckles.

I turn around again, this time not caring about how close his face is and ask: "What?"

He's grinning. "I don't mind, you know. You leaning against me, I mean." He tries to hide his amusement, but it's no use.

And I do something that probably isn't the best thing to do at the moment, especially with him being so close. I blush. I immediately drop my gaze to the ground, hoping he hasn't seen it.

Of course I have no such luck, I can literally feel him smirking.

"Relax Katniss, I was only joking." He's still amused I can tell, but he doesn't want me to hear it. I don't really know what to say or do, since I am in a position that makes it kind of hard to go away.

Peeta misinterprets my silence and says: "Ok, not funny. Come on, don't be mad at me."

When I look up again I see him smiling apologetically. I sigh. The truth is that I don't really want to fight with him. Not when we didn't talk for a half year. But then again I don't like being laughed at.

Though, his smile seems to be genuine and if I looked into his eyes I'm not sure what I would find. I think eyes that would match his smile, but I can't afford to look into them. I just can't.

"Ok." I finally say. After all, we have a not yet finished picture and I want to finish it. And write.

But he won't let me. "Katniss, I don't want to upset you again, but there's something I've noticed…a few seconds ago again and…I just would like to know." He swallows, his expression shows how concentrated he is. It makes me nervous. What would make him have this expression, so almost afraid to ask…or maybe…hear my answer? "Why do you never look me in the eyes?"

Ha,ha, ok, who's planning on killing me now? Seriously, I give you a cliffhanger, don't really answer it (believe me, it's more not answered, it's not only that last question, it's...Who says nothing else is gonna happen? When it rains, it pours;)) and then...there's a new onexD

But anyway, what do you think? Very bad? Bad? Good? Very good? Answer me with a REVIEW!