A/N This was meant to go along with the song Everybody Hurts by REM. Because of the copyright I can't. So at the part where the song was supposed to go I wrote the title. Go look up the lyrics and read them. Even if you already know the song it is more powerful to read through them along with the story.
I don't even try to hold back the yawn. It forces its way out of me. I rub my eyes and roll my neck, trying to fight the exhaustion. Next to me, Katniss is also struggling to stay awakes. The Victory Tour is taking its toll on both of us. Today's visit in District 5 was uneventful. We read our scripted speeches during the ceremony and kept up our star-crossed lovers routine flawlessly during the dinner. But the stress of everything still presses down on my shoulders like I'm bearing the weight of the world. Snow's threats, the uprisings, the pressure to act perfectly for the cameras. It's all too much.
Effie is ushering us onto the train, one more stop over. "Beautiful job you two. You carried yourselves wonderfully. Now go get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a big, big, big day." I almost roll my eyes at the use of her trademark phrase but thankfully catch myself. Offending Effie would only make things worse. So I thank her and say good night. Katniss is unresponsive beside me so I nudge her. She jumps as if coming out of a daze. It takes her a minute but she catches on and mumbles a half-hearted good night. Effie gives a dainty sniff, upset by her lack of manners, but mercifully accepts it and turns around.
When she's out of earshot I look to Katniss and chuckle. "You're lucky. Effie must be tired too; usually you would have been treated to at least a ten minute lecture on how important it is to be polite." Katniss turns her empty eyes to me, her face emotionless. She is barely holding herself together, about to come undone. I reach for her hand and lead her down the hall of the train to her room. I am debating whether or not she wants me to stay when her grip on my hand tightens and she pulls me through the door. Of course I oblige.
I let Katniss use the bathroom first. Soon the water is running in the shower. The walls are thin and I can hear her push back the curtain and step in. Pushing myself into a standing position I move to get ready for bed. Having gone straight from our stop to Katniss's room, I have none of my own things with me. But the closet is immense and well-stocked. I rummage through it and find a simple shirt and pants that will work. Her closet has been stocked with men's clothing too, no doubt a recent installment since I have started spending my nights in Katniss room. I chuckle to myself. No doubt the gossip-hungry Capital attendants on the train are going crazy over it. We both know that nothing goes on but I find the whispers when we leave the room together in the morning amusing. No more sounds come from the bathroom so I assume she is almost done. I gather up the clothes I found and wait.
Katniss walks into the room. She is dressed in a long white nightshirt. As always my heart stops at the sight of her. But her eyes are wide and scared, her breathing heavy. She left her hair dripping wet and already a puddle is forming around her feet. I can feel my brow furrowing in concern for her. "You're going to catch a cold like that," I say. Her only response is to bury her face in her hands. I walk to her side and put an arm around her shoulders, leading her to sit on the bed. I go into the bathroom and grab a towel. Sitting next to her, I began to dry her hair, speaking to her in a soothing voice.
"What's wrong? It might help to talk about it. Tell me, I'll listen as long as you want. Please, let me help you." When she speaks to her voice breaks with emotion. "It's just too much. All of this, all the pain. Every time I close my eyes I see everyone who has died. I see all the people that could die because of my actions. The pressure to get everything right, to fulfill Snow's demands. It's just beating me down. I don't know how to deal with it." I feel like my heart is being torn out as, before my eyes, Katniss, always so strong, always able to take everything thrown at her, begins to cry. Deep, wrenching sobs wrack her entire body. Causing her shoulders to shake violently, every inch of her trembling.
"Oh, Katniss," I whisper. I gather her in my arms and draw her into my lap. I reach behind me and grab a blanket off the bed, wrapping us both in it. She sinks into me, searching for support and comfort. For some scrap of hope to cling to. I want to help her. I have to help her. I talk to her, trying to erase even some of the pain. I give her everything I can, trying to pour some of my own strength into her. It kills me to see her like this. But I keep talking, almost unaware of what I am saying, desperate to heal her.
Everybody Hurts
Her crying has quieted so I can only assume I have helped her. Katniss turns her face upward to look at me. Tearstained and red, her face is still more beautiful than anything I can imagine. "Do you really mean it?" she asks. I tuck her into the bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. "Do I mean what?" "That I'm not alone? That you'll be here for me?" How could I ever do anything else? I nod and brush the hair back from her face, kissing her forehead gently. "Always."