Some Things Left to Fall

"We can't skip it, Katniss. We promised Plutarch that we would go. And we can't let Haymitch go by himself." Peeta eased himself up from his seat at the kitchen table. He gripped the back of his chair to steady himself and looked at me with a quiet confidence. Even after everything that he had been through today, he wasn't going to give up easily.

"Haymitch is a big boy," I retorted. "Sit down. You aren't going anywhere."

Peeta shook his head and gave me a half-smile. He walked slowly over to the door and removed his long, black, wool coat from its hook. Beneath it was a soft burgundy one from Cinna, which Peeta took down gently and offered to me.

"No, Peeta," I insisted, crossing my arms across my chest. "We aren't going. You need to lie down. I'll call Plutarch and apologize, but that crowd is the last thing either of us wants to deal with right now."

To celebrate the first anniversary of the Revolution, Plutarch had arranged a televised celebration in District 12. I had refused to speak, but Peeta had agreed to say a few words, more to placate Plutarch for the next few months than because he had any interest in remembering the horrors of the past few years in front of the nation. But Peeta's notecards lay scattered across the kitchen floor where he had dropped them at the onset of an episode earlier this morning. I had walked into the room, prepared to leave, only to find my husband curled up in the corner, terrified and gasping for air. It was a common-enough occurrence: Peeta struggled with his episodes on an almost-daily basis. Most days, I would help him to the sofa or our bed and hold him until he felt safe again. The more difficult days were the ones when he would have his episode while I was out, and I would return to find a defeated Haymitch at our kitchen table, slumped over a bottle of liquor.

"I can handle this, Katniss. Really."

"An hour ago, you thought you were in the Capitol. How am I supposed to let you go out there and talk about it as though it's your past when it's still your present?"

Peeta kissed my forehead, set my coat in my arms, and slipped past me to collect his notecards from where I had left them on the countertop.

"It's just a speech, Katniss. Ten minutes, and then it'll be over, and we can spend the rest of the night relaxing in front of the fireplace."

"But Peeta-"

"Are you going to let the Capitol win this easily?"

Peeta's words took me by surprise, and I froze. He watched me patiently with raised eyebrows, waiting for me to cave in.

He was right. The Capitol had taken so much from him over the past few years. If this speech was an opportunity for him to prove how far he had come, I had to let him go.

"Just the speech?" I asked, only half-sure that this was the right decision.

"Just the speech. Then we'll go."

"Okay."

Peeta grinned and swept me up into his arms. Flying through the air in his embrace, I remembered for the thousandth time how lucky I was to have him. Alive. Safe. Mine. As he lowered me back to the floor, I brushed a strand of damp hair back behind his ear and stroked the side of his face with my thumb.

We barely spoke on the drive over to the meadow, where the bodies of hundreds of lost District 12 citizens were buried beneath a blanket of lush grass. Ordinarily, I would have preferred to walk, but with Peeta still pale and jittery after his episode, I insisted that he let me drive. As we neared the meadow, I pushed through the crowds at a crawl, doing my best to stay focused despite the cheering that rose around us. Children raced alongside the car, whooping and clapping as they tried to catch glimpses of District 12's most famous couple.

"How do you feel?" I asked Peeta as we neared the parking area behind the stage.

"I'm fine!" he assured me brightly. I didn't entirely believe him, but I knew that there was no dissuading him at this point, so I parked, squeezed his hand, and rushed around the front of the car to help him out of the passenger seat. I spotted Plutarch to the left of the stage, and guided Peeta over with me to check in.

"The Mellark couple!" Plutarch announced as soon as he spotted me approaching. "What a joy to see you both. Peeta, are you still up for speaking this afternoon?"

"He's going to speak for ten minutes, and then we'll have to go," I interjected.

Peeta smiled obligingly. "I'm looking forward to it, Plutarch."

"Great," Plutarch replied, a bit uneasily under my threatening stare. "I'll introduce you at the beginning of the program, and then it'll be all you."

Peeta nodded and reached into his pocket for his notecards as Plutarch climbed the steps to the stage.

"Don't worry, Katniss," he said softly. "It's just ten minutes. We've had so many more difficult ten minutes. This won't even make the top one hundred."

"That doesn't make me feel better," I chided lightly.

"...And now, ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Mellark, District 12 victors!" Plutarch motioned frantically for me and Peeta to join him onstage. I took Peeta's hand and helped him navigate the shaky metal steps, and followed his lead when he waved cheerfully to the crowd on his way over to the microphone.

"Thank you, Plutarch," he said as he took his place behind the podium. "It's a pleasure to be with you all today, to commemorate the first anniversary of the Revolution. Today, Katniss and I partake in both your sorrow and your joy, mourning our own loved ones while celebrating a new future of freedom in the districts. Today, like many of you, we are reflecting on how much we have grown, both as individuals and as a nation, since the 75th Hunger Games..."

I glanced up at Peeta as he trailed off. His forehead glistened with sweat, and he had begun to tremble, the cards in his hands shaking along with him.

"Peeta?" I whispered as I moved closer to him and placed my arm on his back. Peeta nodded almost imperceptibly to me, and continued.

"Today, we remember our own families. We remember my parents and brothers. And we remember Katniss's sister, Prim. But we also remember the tributes who died in the Games. We remember those who we knew personally, but also those who died before them, who were forced to sacrifice themselves for the Capitol. We remember those who died fighting alongside the District 13 forces one year ago today, to defeat the Capitol's regime in its own streets. We remember the innocent families who were murdered, in the districts and in the Capitol itself, during the course of the revolutionary conflict. And as we remember these brave and beloved souls, we give thanks not only for their courage, but also for those who we still have around us to hold close."

Peeta paused for a moment to allow for applause. When I heard his breathing quicken, I held him more tightly. His eyes were darkening from their beautiful blue to something tortured and cruel.

"Peeta, you're safe. I'm right here," I whispered. He glanced down at me, panic written across his face. "You're almost done, Peeta. You can make it. And then we'll spend the rest of the night in front of the fireplace. Don't let the Capitol win."

He leaned down to kiss me before continuing through the crowd's thunderous cheering.

"One year ago today, I was a broken man. The Capitol had not only taken my family and my home, but had also stolen my sanity, and nearly convinced me into hating the girl I love. When I... when I looked at Katniss..."

Peeta broke off and shot me a terrified look, but I didn't know how to reply. I hadn't read the speech before we came, trusting Peeta as always to deliver something appropriate and beautiful.

"When I looked at Katniss, I saw..."

When he stopped a third time, the crowd went silent. Peeta's eyes were dark and stormy, and when he opened his mouth to continue a fourth time, he collapsed into my arms, dropping his cards across the stage. I held him in front of the mute crowd, willing him to stay in reality with me.

"Peeta, you're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you. Whatever horrible things you're seeing, they aren't real. I am real. We are real. Peace and warmth and hope... those things are real."

Plutarch and Haymitch rushed to my side and took Peeta from my arms, and I found myself standing alone onstage before the horrified crowd. As Haymitch helped Peeta down from the stage so that he could deal with his episode in private, I watched my neighbors extend the arms into the air, giving the traditional three-fingered signal.

I couldn't let the Capitol win.

I gathered up Peeta's notecards and flipped through them, shocked by the notes that I found scrawled out on the later cards. Peeta had planned to discuss his imprisonment and torture in the Capitol, and his struggle to come back to me afterwards. How had he expected to give this speech after an episode? These were topics that he barely felt comfortable discussing me in the comfort of our home.

The crowd watched me anxiously as I approached the microphone.

"I'm not one for giving speeches. That was always Peeta's specialty. But today... I'll wrap this up for him. He was going to talk... about his hijacking. About discerning the real from the not real. I'm not going to... the Capitol hurt him. It hurt me. It hurt all of us. But what it took from Peeta... he is still struggling to get that back. This war doesn't end with a white flag at the end of the Revolution. It's an ongoing struggle. Peeta is still fighting, every day. I'm still fighting. Each and every one of us is still fighting. And we must continue to hope that someday, our children will not have to fight as we have fought. They will not be afraid, as we have been afraid. They will know that they are safe and loved and free. And someday, I hope that the man who is my life will be able to feel those things, too."

I gave a small nod to Plutarch before excusing myself from the stage to meet Peeta at the base of the steps. He watched me calculatingly as I approached him, but Haymitch's protective hands on his shoulders kept him in place.

"Let's go home. All of us," I said to Haymitch. He signaled Plutarch that we were heading out and then escorted Peeta after me toward the car. I rummaged around in the trunk for a blanket and gave it to Haymitch to wrap around Peeta's shoulders for comfort. Haymitch slid into the back seat with him, and I drove. When I glanced into the rearview mirror, Peeta's eyes had returned to their clear, natural blue. He stared out the window, tears falling silently down his face.

"It's okay, Peeta," I said softly as I pulled into the driveway. "You did the best you could. I'll build a fire for us, and you can rest. And Haymitch, you can join us tonight if you want."

"I'll let you kids have your space," he said gruffly, but he couldn't mask the concern in his voice. "Let me help you get Peeta settled in, and then you just holler if you need anything."

"Thanks, Haymitch."

We guided Peeta back toward the house. With every step, his body seemed to give up a bit more, until he reached the doorstep and looked as though he might faint. Haymitch helped him the rest of the way to the living room sofa while I started a fire, and then he bid us goodnight.

I took the armchair across from Peeta and watched him slip in and out of consciousness. His second episode had drained him badly.

"You were very brave to try to talk about your hijacking," I said quietly, musing over the events of the afternoon. "But why did you do it? We both know you're still trying to have those discussions in therapy. An episode was practically inevitable."

Peeta smiled sadly and pulled his blanket closer to his chin. "I did it for you, Katniss."

"What? Why, Peeta?" I exclaimed, rising from my chair to sit beside him on the sofa.

"I wanted to be strong for you."

"Oh, Peeta..." I pulled him into my arms and kissed him before gazing down into his bright, blue eyes. "You are the strongest person I have ever met. You don't need to prove anything to me. You're going to get better, with time. You've made so much progress already this year. Can't you see that I love you just the way you are?"

"I'm afraid, Katniss," he admitted.

"It's okay to be afraid. You'd be crazy if you weren't. But you're going to heal. Someday, you will be able to talk about those painful memories. But don't rush things. Give yourself time to recover."

"But Katniss..."

"No, Peeta. I love you. And everything else will fall into place."