So this is what I think could have happened if it weren't for the Quarter Quell. I think I'll wait for Mockingjay to come out before I add anything about the rebellion, just because it probably wouldn't have happened the same if Katniss hadn't been in the arena, but I will get there eventually.

I'm going to switch whose view its written by, this one Katniss, the next will be Peeta. I might do some other characters, we'll see.

PLEASE REVIEW. That's the only way I'll know if anyone cares enough for me to keep going.

Disclaimer- The Hunger Games and all of its wonderfulness belongs to Suzanne Collins, and not me.

Chapter 1 - Katniss

"I liked the last one best" Prim announced, filling the silence that had overcome us ever since the images of me in my wedding dresses had disappeared from the screen in front of us.

I smiled at her effort and opened my arms to her, she came and sat in my lap. "Unfortunately I don't get to decide which dress I want to wear. That's the Capitol's decision."

"I think you should be able to pick your own," Prim declared after another minute. Then she fell silent. We sat like that for a while. Her sitting in my arms. My mother sat in another chair, absently tracing the pattern. She was the next one to break the silence.

"I think it's time for bed. I'm exhausted." She sighed, and then stood up. Prim got off my lap and walked past her up the stairs. My mother stopped at the bottom of them, waiting for me.

"I think I'm going to go out for a bit," she looked at me questioningly. "Just to Haymitch's, I'll be back in a bit," she nodded, and followed Prim upstairs. I didn't bother getting a coat. I wouldn't be outside long.

I headed across the square to Haymitch's house. The lights were off, and I was irritated. I knew he'd be awake, I just didn't feel like trying to navigate his cluttered floors in the dark.. I walked right in, and removed my shoes in the foyer.

"Haymitch?" I called into the darkness.

"In here Sweetheart." I followed his voice to the kitchen, turning on lights as I went. Haymitch sat at the table, a bottle of liquor in his hands. He wasn't drinking it though, and it was almost full. "I saw you on TV. Nice dresses."

I snorted out a laugh. "Thanks. I can't believe they showed them so soon, they only took the pictures yesterday."

"Yeah, well, they're the Capitol, they wanted it done." He took a drink from his bottle, then looked up at me. "Has the president set a date yet?" He asked.

"Not that I know of," I slid into the chair next to him, and grabbed his bottle from his hands. I took a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. I handed back his bottle. He laughed.

"Good. I don't think Peeta would like me very much if I got his fiance drunk."

"Shut up." I glared at him, he didn't notice though, he was staring at the bottle.

"I may have told you this before, but you couldn't do better."

I watched him examine the bottle for a minute before I responded. "What do you mean?"

"Peeta." He said the one word as if it explained everything. I waited for him to elaborate. "Of all the people who could've announced their love for you, which in turn made you save both your lives and are now being forced to marry, you couldn't have hoped for someone better than Peeta."

"I know." I whispered.

"He loves you, and always will. Get over it."

"What do you mean 'Get over it?' " I asked, getting irritated.

"Stop caring what Gale thinks. Stop caring what you want. This is your only hope. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and just get over it."

I laughed. "And here I was thinking you were actually somewhat sober right now. I think I'll come back tomorrow when your making more sense." I slid my chair back and stood up, and turned to go, but Haymitch grabbed my arm. I tried to make him let go, but his grip just tightened. "What?" I snapped at him.

"Just think about what I said. That's all I ask. Just think..." His voice trailed off. I jerked my arm from his grasp and went to stalk out of his house, but I stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, turning back to face him.

"That's a little hypocritical, don't you think?" I asked. He looked into my eyes, I could see from his eyes he didn't understand what I meant. "I just mean... well when was the last day you went completely sober? If your going to go around preaching people on feeling sorry for themselves, start with yourself." He glared into my eyes for another minute, then his eyes dropped back to his bottle. I marched to the front of the house, slipped on my shoes, and walked outside.

I didn't know where to go from here. I didn't want to go home just yet. It was too late to go to Gale's. There would be nobody around in town, or at the Hob. I sat down on Haymitch's doorstep. I thought back to our conversation. I was angry with Haymitch. And I knew why. It was because there was a part of me telling me I needed to accept what was happening, and that I didn't have a choice. And that same part was telling me I should accept it, and that Peeta was amazing and I had no reason not to be happy. I could have a husband who loved me. But I knew I didn't deserve Peeta. I didn't even deserve Gale. I deserved to spend eternity alone.

I sighed, and stood up. I walked to the middle of the square, looking around. I still wasn't ready to go home. Not ready to sleep and embrace the nightmares that would devour me the second I closed my eyes. Instead, I noticed Peeta's house. There was a light coming from the kitchen, and I assumed he was up baking, not wanting to sleep either. I walked across the square, and up to his doorstep. I hesitated for a minute, then knocked on the door.