A future take from my For Unto Us universe...

He was always there, in the back of my mind.

Even as Katniss and I fell more and more in love, even as we built our life together, raised our precious Hope together, he was a shadow, a niggling bit of worry down deep.

I never told Katniss that of course, I never could. He was the one thing I kept one hundred percent to myself.

She never, ever gave me any reason to believe that she even thought about him anymore. Him, the first man she gave her heart to, the one who planted his seed in her soul, then left her alone and adrift.

I hated him, with a white-hot burning passion. And I was also afraid of him. Afraid he'd waltz back into Katniss's life, lay claim to my wife and daughter, take from me the life I love so dearly.

But as the years passed, as our lives and hearts intertwined, as we built a home and a family together, he grew dimmer. The fear faded to just an occasional unease. And eventually, I stopped thinking about him at all.

Katniss gathers the remnants of our picnic lunch, tucking the dishes back into the hamper and crumpling the bakery paper into balls. I should be helping her, but instead I'm transfixed by the way the late summer sun plays in her ebony hair, crowning her in fire. She catches me staring and grins, that soft smile she saves only for me.

Over her shoulder, I can see Hope dancing in the grass, her long, dark braids festooned with dandelions. She's a gazelle; leaping with a grace inherited from her mother, lithe and elegant. Her little brother struggles to keep up on his chubby toddler legs. My children. Our children.

Katniss sees me watching them, and her smile widens. She's stunning, and she doesn't even know. I catch her wrist and pull her to me, kissing her softly but with a promise of more. She flushes a little, glancing around furtively to see if anyone's noticed. I know she's thinking of all of the times we've made love on this picnic blanket, in our meadow.

But we're not in our meadow today. We're in a huge urban park in the centre of the Capitol, surrounded not by long grasses and songbirds, but by dog walkers and other families.

We've been visiting the Capitol a couple of times a year since before Ben was born. Katniss has been getting to know some of her late mother's family, slowly and tentatively. It's been good for her, I think. Learning more about where she came from. Bravely working to heal some very old wounds.

I'm so proud of her.

"Mama," a tiny blond-mopped whirlwind lands on the blanket between us, sun-flushed and grinning. "Yook!" he says. I snicker as he grabs Katniss's face in his slobbery hands, turning her head towards an ice cream vendor who has set up his cart along the footpath.

"What's that, Benji?" Katniss laughs, and strokes his downy curls. As much as Hope is daddy's little girl, Ben is his mother's sidekick.

"Ice keem! Pwease mama, I have some?"

"Sure buddy," I tell him. Katniss scrunches her nose at me; she thinks I spoil the children, but I can't resist. I waited so long for them.

"All right," she sighs, but her eyes sparkle. "Go see what they've got." Ben clambers over to me eagerly, and I hoist him up onto my shoulders. "I'll grab the blanket," Katniss laughs.

Ben keeps up a running commentary as we walk to the cart, pointing out every dog and duck and ball along the way, and I love it. It's incredible, watching my children grow and develop their own unique personalities. Even if it makes me a little melancholy for their baby days. Katniss and I have been talking about maybe having one more. It might be time to start trying. With that thought, I turn to smile at her.

But she's not there.

She's standing down the walkway, talking with a tall, dark-haired man. He's smiling, beaming really, and gesturing animatedly. I can't see Katniss's face, but her body language screams discomfort, her back stiff, her arms crossed. I have to resist the urge to run to her, instead sliding Ben off my shoulder and into my arms, covering the few yards between us and my wife in long, deliberate strides.

Conversation stops abruptly as I lay my hand gently on Katniss's shoulder, not possessively, just to let her know that I'm here for her. She looks up at me, her expression defiant but also tinged with fear, and I swallow hard.

The stranger is looking at me and at Ben with narrowed eyes. As much as Ben is practically my clone with his blond hair and stocky build, he regards the new man warily through his mother's solemn silver eyes.

"Mama," Ben chirps, reaching for her. He's still little enough to be shy around unfamiliar people. Katniss takes him from me and settles him on her hip, holding him almost protectively. I can feel her trembling.

Before I can ask Katniss what's wrong, she turns back to the stranger. "I'd like you to meet my husband," she tells him, before turning back to me. "Peeta, this is Gale Hawthorne."

It's like a fist to the gut. The man before us is the man who abandoned my pregnant wife more than seven years ago. He glances back and forth between Katniss and me. I'm torn between wanting to punch him in the face, and wanting to grab my family and put them somewhere safe, where he can't hurt them.

Or steal them.

Instead, I bite back the terror, and nod at him.

But he's looking at Katniss again. Watching her stroke Ben's hair, fixated maybe on the pair of rings that encircle the fourth finger of her left hand. He almost looks disbelieving. And anger builds again in my chest. Did this selfish idiot think that Katniss - beautiful, bright, kind Katniss - would wait for him forever?

I want to tell him to go away, to never speak to Katniss again. But I can see a kind of silent conversation happening between them, one I'm not privy to. It's obvious their connection goes deep.

My heart clenches. Of course their connection is deep. They share a child.

As if summoned, an all-too-familiar voice yells "Daddy!" behind us.

Hope, my beautiful girl, is running this way.

For one brief, sickening moment I think she's running towards Gale Hawthorne, that somehow she's recognized this man who shares her DNA. And I think he does too, because his eyes widen.

But Hope runs to me, jumping into my arms in her fearless way, trusting I'll catch her. And I do. I will always catch her, always be here for her. She grins, new chipmunk teeth glowing. "Look what I found, Daddy," she says, completely oblivious to the stranger in our midst and to the tension that surrounds us like fog.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" I'm reluctant to even say her name in front of Gale Hawthorne. She opens her palm, a snail shell rests inside. "A shell?" I chuckle.

"Look, he's still inside his home," she says, twisting the shell to show me it is indeed full. "We can draw him in our book, right Daddy?" Hope and I have been working together, carefully cataloging the flora and fauna around our home. We take turns drawing the plants and animals, then she writes everything she knows about them in her most careful handwriting. The hours we spend together, exploring and drawing and talking, are among my happiest.

"Absolutely," I tell her. "He's going to be a great addition."

"Princess," Katniss says, and I stiffen. She's going to introduce our daughter to her biological father. The idea of my Hope calling another man 'daddy' makes me physically sick. "Can you take your brother to the ice cream cart and choose which flavour you want? Daddy and I will be right there."

Both kids start squirming immediately to be let down, Ben chanting 'ice keem' like a mantra. But Hope, perhaps sensing my mood, kisses my cheek as I set her gently on the ground. "Love you, Hopey," I whisper, my voice gruff with emotion.

"Love you too, Daddy," Hope says, her musical voice bright and clear above the cacophony of the park. She grabs her little brother's hand, and the two of them run up the footpath together. I watch them, like I always do. I only turn back when Katniss's small hand slips into my own.

She looks up at me, love shining in her eyes, and I smile in spite of myself. She's always had that effect on me.

Hawthorne is watching us with an expression that can only be called longing. "You, ah. You have a beautiful family," he says, not to Katniss, but to me. And though I don't know this man at all, I can hear the underlying meaning in his words. Hope is my family, not his.

"Thank you," I tell him sincerely.

He says a few more words to Katniss before excusing himself. We both watch him walk away. Then she wraps her arms around me, and I hold her, rocking and breathing together in the summer sun until the kids come running back to report on all of the ice cream flavours.

My family. We are all together, where we are meant to be. No matter what, this was going to happen anyway.