Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games, I am not Suzanne Collins.
A/N: I cannot even express how sorry I am for making you wait so long for an update. I finally got the time to write and instead of wasting it away watching A Very Potter Musical, I decided that I was not going to procrastinate finishing this chapter any longer. Forgive me for the wait? Enjoy! Maybe review, too? I have a feeling this chapter might shock you.

Chapter Four.

I was physically sickened by how little privacy I had in my own home. I could not exit my front door without being harassed by cameras or have a microphone shoved in my face. Therefore, I've just resorted to staying in bed all day. Peeta tried to coax me into just talking to the reporters and maybe then they would go away, but I knew better than him that they wouldn't. I was actually beginning to wonder what these new "gossip magazines" were offering for the first picture of our baby, or at least the first picture of me with a baby bump.

Peeta had no fear when it came to the reporters, he would talk to them every morning as they harassed him all the way to the bakery and he was so calm about it. I have no idea how he could compose himself that way. After all he'd been through; after all we've been through. Just the sight of all those cameras takes me back to the opening ceremonies of the games, or the commercials for the rebellion. I'm completely dumbfounded as to how Peeta doesn't lose his composure and have another hijacking flashback.

I watched the reports on the television sometimes. It seems everyone was just so curious about my baby. It led me to ponder if Panem was so calm that they had nothing else to report about besides some random, unborn child.

That's the thing, you're baby isn't random. It's the child of the star-crossed lovers.

I shook my head at the nagging voice in my brain and checked the clock. Peeta would be home soon, at least that should take some of this stress off of me.

Like clockwork, the door opened at that thought. I heard the sea of voices calling out a few more questions before Peeta shut the door. I turned my head to face the doorway. I was practically sitting in a cave. I had closed all the curtains and I was too tired to get up and turn on the lights. The only thing that made me visible to Peeta as his heavy footsteps entered the room was the light glow of the television screen.

"Katniss…" He questioned with a smile playing at his lips. I was not as cheery.

"Those idiot reporters have been lurking around the house all day. I swear! Does nobody have any sense of morals these days? What happened to privacy? Or at least, what happened to personal property? What gives these people the right to lounge around on my porch and lawn all day while I practically have to hide in a cave to have a moment to myself?" I did not move from my spot on the couch but I did shift my position and drag the blanket closer to my shoulder during my rant. Peeta's smile never faltered.

"Look, baby." He whispered coming closer to me. He leaned over from behind the couch and kissed the side of my head. "They're just doing their job. I'm sure they don't want to be here all the time, they just want their story and a few pictures and then I'm sure they'll go home. Surely they have other stories that need to be covered as well."

"Well then let them go do that! 'Cause I'm not going to talk to those disgusting animals!" I shouted a little too loudly. Peeta drew back, obviously not expecting me to take my anger out on him.

I sighed and looked at him. "I'm sorry, I'm just aggravated." He looked at me with something in his eye I've never seen before. Without another word he stood up straight and practically ran into the kitchen.

I dropped my head onto the armrest of the couch. What now?

I managed to pull myself out of the comfortable cocoon I had wrapped myself in and shuffle my way into the kitchen. Peeta wasn't there. However, the light to the study was on and I could see a shadow moving from the crack at the foot of the door. I pressed a hand to my back and attempted to massage away the pain as I walked to the door.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it, she's just really stressed out and it's not helping her at all in this condition." His voice paused while I pressed my ear against the door. "Ye-Yes, tomorrow is great; the sooner the better." He stopped again; he was talking into the phone. I just had no clue as to who was on the other end of the line. "Alright, we'll see you tomorrow. So long." I heard the phone click onto the hook and opened the door.

I was wearing my famous scowl. "Who was that and why are they coming here tomorrow? We don't have enough people outside harassing me? Now you want to invite one of them into our house?" He closed the distance between us and reached out to wrap his arms around my waist. I stepped back and he followed, getting his arm around my back before I could stop him.

"I think you'll actually be excited when I tell you who's paying us a visit tomorrow." I cocked my eyebrow at him. "Plutarch Heavensbee, Secretary of Communications. He agreed to take care of the reporters." A smile spread across my face instantly.

"Seriously, they'll leave us alone?" I was nearly jumping up and down with excitement. Peeta looked at me and bit his lip nervously.

"However, we have to do something in order for him to help." I stopped my giddiness and looked at him confused. "Plutarch said that the only way he could help and get them to stop searching for a story is if he got the story first. He's coming tomorrow to personally interview the both of us."

I pushed away from him and simply turned away. "And you just agreed?" I snapped turning back to him. Now he wore the look of confusion on his face.

"I thought you wanted our privacy back?"

"Yes, I do want my privacy back, Peeta. But I don't want to be gussied up and propped into the middle of prime time television more than that! Don't you get it, Peeta? Are you completely stupid? I hate reporters! I hate the television, the gossip, the invasion of privacy! You said you just wanted us to be a normal family and that's what made me agree to have a baby with you. But, normal people aren't interviewed about every detail of their personal life for it to be aired throughout and entire country! For fucks sake, Peeta. Why would you think I would ever be okay with that? You think that one interview is going to solve everything. They never leave me alone, they never let me live down the idiotic Mockingjay title!"

Everything I was throwing at him was fuel to his rage. I never insult him, I never curse. I knew I was angry, but I knew I was not angry at him. My hormones were so out of balance, I just need to take my stress out on something.

I regretted everything that just happened as I felt the tension surging from his body. We stood in silence. A cloud of hostility was covering the atmosphere. I noticed his eyes getting darker and the emotions building up in his face. It was actually scary and I didn't know what he was going to do next. This wasn't normal for Peeta, he never looks this way.

"Well excuse me for trying to help you! You know, you're not the only one who doesn't get a moment of privacy. Do you think I like being followed all day long? Do you think I enjoy having to act like I'm perfectly fine in front of the cameras when I fucking loathe it? Do you know that every single day when they're hounding me for answers about us, the baby, about the most private, intimate details of our life, I simply have to smile back at them and joke when the only thing I want to do is shove the microphone down their throat for even asking such things. You're not the only one in this situation, so when you're done with your self pity let me know because it's starting to piss me off."

He stormed away. He didn't even look at me when he made his way out of the study, down the hallway, through the kitchen, and then finally out of the house. My chest felt like it was going to collapse. My throat felt like there was a rock stuck in it. My knees began to wobble and I dropped myself into the chair to my right. I sucked in a sharp breath. I was trying with all my power not to cry, however, that failed.

Tears started to pour from my eyes and roll down my face. The noises coming from my throat were of pure pain. In all the years I've known Peeta, in all the time that we've been married, we've never fought. The most that would happen is an occasional argument that was solved in a matter of minutes. This was completely different.

Did we actually just fight? We never fight. We never get angry at each other. What the hell is causing all this now? After nearly sixteen years of marriage. We have a baby on the way for fucks sake!

I heard the murmuring of voices outside the now completely silent house. The paparazzi; they seem to be causing a hell of a lot of problems lately. I screamed, through my tears, into the throw pillow that was resting next to me in the chair. Everything that just happened, everything that was just said, hit me like a ton of bricks. Peeta and I never fight, the only reason the two of us are so stressed out is because of all these people stalking us.

I gave myself sometime to calm down and stop crying. I carefully thought about everything. Every single thing that has happened in my life since the day I met Peeta. The whole country knew just about every detail as I did.

I sighed when I finally made my decision. Tomorrow, I would endure one more interview; I would endure the prep team, the cameras, and the personal questions.

I could only dream that Plutarch could come through for us and gain our privacy back and end all this drama between Peeta and me.