(A/N: Okay, so you guys are amazing! Seriously, it's super cool seeing how people react to this, and thank you so much! Okay, I'll get back to the story now[: )

The rain is still beating down on the cave when Katniss wakes up, and we rule finding a tree to sleep in (which is apparently what she said just before falling asleep last night) out. Our food supply has gone, and I volunteer to go out in the storm and scavenge. To my relief, she rules that out just as a particularly loud clap of thunder sounds. I'm secretly relieved; it would have been hard enough to go through the storm without a limp. But it's still hard to numb the pain in my stomach.

I can't think of any distractions to get us through today; I think it might be because we are both just so hungry and weak. We spend most of the day huddled together in the sleeping bag, shivering and taking occasional naps. The minutes stretch into hours and the hours seem to stretch into several days in which the Gamemakers decided to keep the sun up. I write a few mental letters to Prim while Katniss is napping, but even if she could get them, I don't think she would find them very interesting. They're mostly about food.

Eventually Katniss speaks up on something that can keep us occupied. "Peeta, you said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?"

I smile for what feels like the first time in years. I can remember the day perfectly, which is fairly surprising considering that I'm too weak to remember how long we've been in here. Maybe I only remember it so well because I think about it more than I should. "Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair…it was in two braids instead of one." I can rattle off everything about her easily, thinking about all the times that I wanted to paint the scene. "My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."

Bemused, she asks, "Your father? Why?"

"He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.'"

"What? You're making that up!" Katniss laughs nervously.

"No, true story," I reply, grinning. I wonder what my dad's thinking back home. Hopefully my mom's not in the room, watching TV with him. "And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could have had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings…'" I trail off for a minute, thinking about the talent that he had passed on to the girl sitting in the sleeping bag next to me. "'…even the birds stop to listen.'"

"That's true. They do," she replies with a bittersweet look on her face. "I mean, they did," she finishes, catching herself.

"So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song." I picture a five-year-old Katniss beaming with her hand waving wildly in the air. "Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent," I recall, and I can hear the pure melody in her beautiful voice lilting through my memories.

"Oh, please," she laughs.

"No, it happened!" I insist. "And right when your song ended, I knew-just like your mother-I was a goner. Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you," I finish, unable to believe the difference that a few weeks could make.

"Without success," she points out unhelpfully.

"Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck."

She seems a bit speechless for a moment. I don't blame her, it's a lot to take in. She eventually says, "You have a…remarkable memory."

I smile and play lightly with her hair. "I remember everything about you. You're the one who wasn't paying attention."

"I am now," she says shyly, looking at me out of the corners of her eyes.

"Well, I don't have much competition here," I remark, thinking about Gale back home. Something in me seems to droop a little bit.

And then Katniss says the one thing that I've been dying to hear since I was five years old. "You don't have much competition anywhere."

Whatever drooped before shoots up, leaving me feeling euphoric. She leans in, just about to kiss me, when we both hear something and give a start. She grabs her bow and I leap to my feet as quickly as I can with my leg, wishing that whoever it was could have waited a few more minutes. I hurry out to the entrance, bracing myself for anything, and let out a whoop when I see what it is. A basket filled with steaming food, having just drifted down from a silver parachute. I lift it up, inhaling all the smells that remind me of the Capital, and hurry back inside, grinning from ear to ear.

"I guess Haymitch finally got tired of watching us starve," I say specifically for Haymitch to hear.

"I guess so," she replies, staring hungrily at the food. It's the stew that she mentioned specifically when we were in the Capital. She looks about ready to inhale the entire portion of stew in a matter of seconds, and before she can, I say quickly, "We better take it slow on that stew. Remember the first night on the train? The rich food made me sick and I wasn't even starving then."

She sighs sadly and agrees, knowing that it would probably not be wise to get sick as soon as we have access to food. We divide it all up, eating tiny portions to go easy on our stomachs, but it's almost taunting us. When I finish, I watch Katniss stare at her empty plate and declare, "I want more."

I bite back a laugh. "Me too. Tell you what, we wait an hour, if it stays down, then we get another serving," I suggest.

"Agreed. It's going to be a long hour," she remarks, still eyeing her plate.

"Maybe not that long," I say, deciding to turn the conversation back to what it was just before we received our dinner. "What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me…no competition…best thing that ever happened to you…" I tack onto the end, waiting for her reaction.

"I don't remember that last part," she says a little nervously, blinking a bit and looking away from me.

"Oh, that's right. That's what I was thinking," I say through my chattering teeth. "Scoot over, I'm freezing."

She does, and leans her head against my shoulders. I wrap my arms around her tenderly, and she brings up the subject again, to my surprise. "So, since we were five, you never even noticed any of the other girls?" She seems a little surprised.

"No, I noticed just about every girl," I correct. "But none of them made a lasting impression but you."

"I'm sure that would thrill your parents, you liking a girl from the Seam."

I think back on it. My mother certainly wasn't thrilled, but my father seemed to approve of my taste without hesitation. "Hardly. But I couldn't care less. Anyway, if we make it back, you won't be a girl from the Seam, you'll be a girl from Victor's Village."

She perks up a little bit, and then something else seems to hit her, and she makes a face. "But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!" She looks revolted.

I pull her closer to me. "Ah, that'll be nice. You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales."

Katniss fails miserably at holding in a laugh. "I told you, he hates me!"

"Only sometimes. When he's sober, I've never heard him say one negative thing about you," I point out.

"He's never sober!"

"That's right! Who am I thinking of?" I pretend to be deep in thought. "Oh, I know. It's Cinna who likes you. But that's mainly because you didn't try to run if he set you on fire. On the other hand, Haymitch…well, if I were you, I'd avoid Haymitch completely. He hates you."

She raises her eyebrows. "I thought you said I was his favorite."

"He hates me more. I don't think people in general are his sort of thing."

She thinks for a minute, probably imagining Haymitch's reaction, like I am. Then she startles me with a question. "How do you think he did it?"

"Who? Did what?"

"Haymitch. How do you think he won the Games?"

I have to think on that one for a minute. I'd thought about it before, but never really lingered on it. Now I begin to realize that there is nothing so remarkable about Haymitch that he would win at all. Except for one thing.

"He outsmarted the others."

She knows I'm right, and we sit in silence. My mind lingers on his Games; what the arena was like, whether he teamed up with anyone, what he did that was so smart that he got out alive. Eventually, the silence takes both of our minds back to our stomachs, and Katniss suggests that we don't wait any longer. I don't argue.

She's just dishing out more tiny portions when we hear the familiar tune of the anthem playing outside the cave. I peer through the rocks at the sky, not expecting to see anyone among the clouds. "There won't be anything to see tonight," Katniss says, but to my shock she is wrong. Thresh is staring down at me from the sky.

"Katniss," I say softly.

"What?" She seems to be still absorbed in the stew. "Should we split another roll, too?"

"Katniss."

"I'm going to split one," she announces, and I can tell that she's choosing not to hear me. I turn and look at her sadly. She sees me staring. "What?"

"Thresh is dead."

She blinks. "He can't be."

"They must have fired the cannon during the thunder and we missed it," I reason, but I'm shocked too.

She seems to be in denial. "Are you sure? I mean, it's pouring buckets out there. I don't know how you can see anything." She makes her way over, peeking outside just long enough that what I said is confirmed. She pulls away, looking completely unsure of how she is supposed to feel. Before I know it, and probably without her even noticing, tears begin to well up in her eyes.

"You all right?" I ask quickly.

I watch emotions flash across her face-denial, shock, sorrow-until she pulls herself together. "It's just…if we didn't win…I wanted Thresh to. Because he let me go. And because of Rue."

"Yeah, I know," I agree. "But this means we're one step closer to District 12." She doesn't move. I scoot her plate towards her, trying to get her mind off of him. "Eat. It's still warm."

She does, but I can tell that she doesn't taste it at all. "It also means Cato will be back hunting us."

"And he's got supplies again," I can't help adding.

"He'll be wounded, I bet," she points out, which confuses me.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because Thresh never would have gone down without a fight," she says simply. "He's so strong-I mean, he was. And they were in his territory."

"Good. The more wounded Cato is, the better. I wonder how Foxface is making out," I remark, having picked up her nickname.

"Oh, she's fine," Katniss huffs resentfully. I try not to chuckle. "Probably be easier to catch Cato than her."

I have to agree with that, but there's still another option. "Maybe they'll catch each other and we can just go home," I say, and it occurs to me that now might be the time to admit something I've been feeling guilty about. "But we better be extra careful about the watches. I dozed off a few times."

"Me, too," she replies guiltily. "But not tonight."

We clean our plates again and I tell her that I'll take the first watch. I promise myself that I won't fall asleep as she burrows down underneath the sleeping bag, and I listen as her breath becomes steady again. I write a mental letter to Prim and wonder vaguely if I'll tell her about this if we ever get out of here. The thought of Prim leads me to thinking about her goat and the cheese she makes, and eventually I can't take it anymore. I try not to disturb Katniss as I get up, and I crouch next to the stash of food, spreading a bit of the warm cheese over some of the roll and trying (and failing) to eat it slowly. I return to the sleeping bag and let my thoughts drift as the time passes. I'm pleased to be able to wake her up without having fallen asleep myself.

I hand her half of a roll and say, "Don't be mad. I had to eat again. Here's your half."

"Oh good!" She takes it immediately and practically inhales it.

"We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery," I remark, wishing for some right now.

"Bet that's expensive."

"Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it's gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale," I yawn, and get comfortable. I'm out like a light, and find myself dreaming of tarts and home and paint and Katniss.

So, please please please review! It makes me want to write faster! (: Also, I've mentioned Prim's letters several times and I've written a fanfic consisting only of them called "Letters With Love." If you're interested, please read them and review! Thanks so much!(: