This is mostly a drapple fic, just my thoughts on what might have happened.

I watched Peeta twist the knife in his hands. He watched it like it was nothing but a toy. He looked at me. I lowered my bow and threw the arrow.

"There .. There has to be something we can do."I felt the tears forming in my eyes."I have to keep Prim safe."

Peeta nodded. Then he looked at me and cubed my cheek. I stared into his eyes, which were suddenly full of pain.
He had stabbed himself.
I watch the light leave his beautiful eyes. I panicked and grabbed his body as he trembled forward. I laid him down on his back and applied pressure to the wound. But he gently touched my hand. And he told me to let go. That I had to keep going. He asks me to get closer, because he has something to say that doesn't involve the Capitol. Or anyone else for that matter.

"Don't cry for me Katniss. Like I said, I wanted to show the Capitol that they don't own me. I'm still me. You're still you. And against all odds, you won. The girl from District 12 won. Don't throw everything away because of a baker's son Katniss. Prim needs you. District 12 needs you. Give them what they want and protect your people. And then, when you're done .. I'll see you then."

I cub his cheek and shush him to be quiet. I try to tell myself that he will be alright. That someone will help him. But I know it won't happen. Because this is supposed to happen. He is supposed to die. He will die and I will win.
I take his hands in mine and stare into his eyes. With every second, the life in them passes a little bit more. And then it's suddenly all gone.
The boy with the bread is gone. Was he just acting, or if he did in fact love me? Did he love me enough to kill himself just so that I could win?

I sit still in shock. I can't cope with the situation. I have to pull myself together. And remember what he said. "Give them what they want."

So I throw myself to cover Peeta's body and scream until my lungs burn like they had been set on fire. I let all the water in my body become tears as they stream down my cheeks. And I hear the cannon through my one good ear. And then the sound of the hovercraft. But I won't let them take him. They collect both of us and they have to use a lot of force to pull me away from Peeta's body. Of course many cameras are shoved in my face. I keep screaming although my throat is sore and my lungs are burning up. Every muscle in my body is tense as I'm placed on a table where they begin to repair every broken part of my body. I slowly regain my hearing. My wounds are tended and then they wash and cut my hair. I keep trying to get away from them and it is only when I hear Cinna's voice that I calm down. He pulls me back and hushes me. Because the Capitol doesn't like trouble.

I live through it all though. The celebrations. The parties. The victor's tour. Only I'm alone. Cato. Clove. Rue. Glimmer. Marvel. Foxface. Thresh. Peeta and all the other tributes are long gone. And I'm the only one still standing. It is I who has to look into the eyes of their families, and see the hatred they must feel towards me.
Our move to the Victor's Village passes before my eyes. I don't even notice the rain of gifts District 12 receives because of me being a victor.
Gale and I slowly grow back into our routine. He works in the mines now to support his family. I have nothing to do but hunt. I can live off of the Capitols gifts. Prim is secured for life.
But I still hunt. To keep my mind off of the nightmares about mutts, blood, flesh being ripped apart and bones being broken. But what haunts me the most is the nightmare when all I see are the faces on the night's sky. The faces of the dead tributes. They died so that I could survive. Against the odds, I survived the tributes from 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11 and the boy from 12. 23 children who had done nothing wrong, except the odds weren't in their favor.
But they return every other night. And they become more and more bizarre every night. Now I understand why Haymitch uses alcohol to block it out. Only when I try, all that happens is that I realize how awful it all is and I stop because of the look on Prim's face when she finds me in the backyard, drunk as hell.
But the nightmares become worse as the 75th Hunger Games is announced. The third Quarter Quell.

"This time, there will be no weapons. To remind the Districts that they have no weapons against the Capitol. Only 1 tribute will be left. May the odds be ever in your favor!"

I prepare myself for the reaping. Haymitch is finally free of this task. I sit there and watch as the children of District 12 gather in their age groups and I give Prim a comforting smile. But we both know she has 2 chances this time. And last year, the odds were far from in her favor. This time I can't volunteer for her. For the next 5 years, I will have to watch her stand there, each time with a bigger chance of being chosen. How I wish the siblings of a victor would be safe. But no. They can use her against me if I don't obey their commands. Haymitch has told me about something they did to a boy in District 4. Finnick Odair. I remember the game he won. And I remember Annie who won because she could swim, but she went mental afterwards. Haymitch has told me that those two were madly in love, and that he had never seen a more tortured soul than Finnick while he was mentoring Annie, because the Capitol made sure she would be chosen. Finnick had tuned the Capitol down and they wanted to show him that not even the tributes were safe. Haymitch also told me that I had the same look on my face as Finnick had once. Because everything about my life at this point reminded me of Peeta. And how much better off the new tributes would have been with him as their mentor. I would never have survived without him. He kept the other tributes away from me and won the audience over. They loved me because Peeta loved me.
So I spend the next years watching children die at my hands. Because I can't get the sponsors to like them. I can't prepare them enough for what is about to come. I can't protect them. I can't help them. I can't give them any useful advice. I can't send them the right gifts. I can't train them well enough. I can't. I just can't. I can only watch as both the boy and the girl are brutally killed, and then I have to face the faces of their families when I return from the Capitol.
I watch my friend Madge being stabbed in her leg, a wound similar to Peeta's, on the third day at the games 2 years later. On her last year she was chosen. And she dies quickly afterwards, because it is only then I realize how expensive the medicine for that is. And I understand why District 12 would try so badly to save Peeta's life that they gathered money even though they had none. Because back then they thought both of their tributes could survive. And Peeta was the only hope because I was doing nothing right.
I'm also forced to watch as Gale's youngest sister is reaped 6 years later. She only lived the first day because I gave her the same advice that I give all of my tributes.

"Run."

I didn't, and I almost died within the first 10 seconds. That is what I tell them.
Prim avoids the reaping, and a huge weight is lifted off of my chest as another name is drawn the year Prim is 18 and the last year for her at the reaping. She is safe now.
But my suffering continues. For 11 years, I'm responsible for not mentoring the tributes from District 12 correctly.
Gale has worked in the mines all this time. I have noticed how every day, his voice gets more rusty and the light in his eyes disappear a little more each time I look. But I still refuse his marriage proposals.
Because even if I wanted to marry Gale, the Capitol wouldn't allow it. They've been selling the "heartbreaking love story of the star-crossed lovers from Disctrict 12, Katniss and Peeta of the 74th Hunger Games" for 11 years now, and I have to keep looking miserable for the camera. I have to make the people of Panem believe that I was madly in love and not trying to create a revolution. That I was truly in love with my fellow tribute and how I miss him so much it punches a hole in my gut every single day. It's not that hard to pretend and I don't want to forget him either. So I hold on to my misery.

2 years later, Prim is married off to a man from the wealthy part of District 12. Caleb is the butcher's son. He has laid eyes upon her every day when she left the Victor's Village to take our mother and I for a walk. She was the only person left in our house who didn't spend her days leaned back into a chair, staring at the empty sky outside like a ghost.
Prim moves into his house and becomes pregnant fast. I know that Caleb will protect her. It was hard letting go of her, knowing she was no longer my responsibility. But Caleb truly loves her.
My mother passes away shortly after though. She suddenly just leaned back in her chair and stopped breathing. Possibly the best way for her to go. Though she loved Prim and I, nothing was holding her to this place anymore. The memory was too painful.

So here I am. 15 years later. At 31, I am considered an old maid. But the Capitol loves that. The girl on fire never forgot about her first love.
I didn't forget about Peeta. And what he did for me. And how I wish I could have lost myself in our time together in the cave. How I hated the Capitol for tricking us into confronting Cato, eventually leading up to the last battle between their star-crossed lovers. When Peeta killed himself because of love. Only I know what he whispered to me. That he wanted me to go on and that he would wait for me. And how I in my thoughts swore to find him and be with him forever.
And now forever is about to start. Prim is safe now. I can leave the life behind that I was never meant to live.
The boy from 12 won this year, and his Victor's tour has just ended. Haymitch won't be forced to mentor again. I can't imagine him holding on to life much longer though. The boy, Sawyer, won because he became allies with the Careers, eventually killing all of them in their sleep. One by one, he had slit their throats and during sunrise on the 7th day, the final cannon shots were fired. The fastest games to ever be held.
He will be a worthy mentor and maybe the tributes from 12 will have a chance now. Because I didn't help Sawyer in any way. He just told me he could do without me. So I let him.
And now I wear my father's hunter jacket and walk into the woods surrounding District 12. With no intension of ever coming back. What I might find is up to the road ahead but I intend to find something eventually.

Death. And I will welcome it with opens arms.

I know this is very angsty and not happy at all. But to me, the Hunger Games are NOT a happy story. It's awful, sad and heartbreaking, but that is the reason I love it. The writing is amazing and I would honestly kill to have Suzanne Collins' imagination.