Epilogue: June 21st

"This really isn't necessary."

"It kind of is," Cammie's voice floated from a few feet in front of me.

"I would prefer-"

"Shut up Zach."

I smirked against my blindfold. "You're hot when you bicker."

Silence.

"I can see your blush with my x-ray vision," I murmured, only to receive an exasperated sigh.

"You're lucky you're good looking, because honestly you don't have much else going for you," Cammie snipped.

I shook my head in the direction of her voice. "Oh my darling, the lies we tell ourselves…"

That earned me a snort and I smiled. Unfortunately, I couldn't see her smiling back for the bandana obstructing my vision.

"Are we there yet?" I asked.

"Gosh Zach, you sound like a four year-old on a road trip. Have patience."

I was about to strike back when our journey came to an abrupt halt. Cammie's hands stopped tugging mine and my feet skidded to a stop.

"Okay," she said in her light and fluttery excited-tone. "Ready?"

"Always ready." I responded, reaching up to remove the blindfold.

So, I think a little backstory interlude is in order here.

Father had never been a very present word in my life. It was exactly the opposite, not that my mother was much better. But for the sake of the story, let's just focus on the paternal side of my family.

Dad? Nada. Zilch. Nil.

The closest thing I'd ever had to a fatherly figure was Joe, a once double-agent who'd briefly conspired with my maniacal mother (but the past is the past, right?). He was the only man who'd ever had an influence on me, ever taught me, ever contributed to my life as a human being. Besides Joe, I had next to nothing.

This isn't my sob story. Please, don't give me a "Poor Zach" or pat on the back. I'm afraid my response would arrive in the form of physical assault. Or a taser. I'm not a whiner, so spare me the sympathy.

However, it should be clarified that I was rather unfamiliar with the field of fatherhood. Now, back to the present.

James was slightly over a year old now, fourteen months to be exact. He was about the size of a loaf of bread, depending on the bread. His big eyes dominated his chubby face. His hair grew in dark wisps on the crown of his head. He was, by every definition, perfection.

And now, right now, he was on our kitchen floor smeared with paint.

He looked like a rainbow. There were shades of blue and red, yellow and green, every color on God's green earth. There were half a dozen small canvases placed on the floor around him. Cammie had covered the tile with newspapers and just let him have at it.

In a way that only a parent can understand, it was so beautiful.

I turned to Cammie. "I don't understand."

She smiled. "Happy Father's Day babe. He might be too young to make a card, but he can surely finger paint."

I was so confused. My eyes scanned over the beautiful mess on the floor, my son, Cam… "What?" I asked unsure.

"Father's Day," she repeated. "We missed it last year. You were on a mission in Pakistan. But I made sure it wouldn't happen again. You deserve to be celebrated."

James piped up from his spot on the floor with a spirited "Dah!" His speech was still primarily composed of garbled nonsense, but I'd identified "Dah" as a derivative of dad.

I grinned, kneeling down so that I was eye level with my little man. "All this for me?" I asked, though I didn't really expect an answer.

James just laughed his sweet laugh and swatted his colorful hands at me. He gifted me with a blue paint smear on the side of my nose. Cammie snorted. It was a very ladylike snort, of course. Not.

I turned to cast her a smirk but she was on the move, bending down close to James and swiping her fingers though the paint droplets on a small palette.

I saw the attack coming soon enough to devise a defensive maneuver. I seized James and pulled him in close to my chest, his body facing forwards. Cammie was in a crouch, ready to pounce on me with her lethal weapons— finger paints.

"Stand down and the baby goes free!" I threatened, wiggling James so his feet swung. He shrieked with delight.

Cammie mock-gasped. "Not the child! You barbarian!"

"Surrender women!" I shouted in my 'Sparta' voice. "I'm not bluffing!"

With an theatrical moan, Cammie placed the back of her hand to her forehead and collapsed into a kitchen chair. "What a fool I was to antagonize the great Master Goode."

"Yes." I nodded in agreement. "Foolish, quite foolish my lady."

"If only he wasn't so well-guarded by the child," She wailed on. "Just one little—DISTRACTION!" Cammie shouted as a small sippy cup came flying at me from her hands. It nailed me in the hip, creating a brief diversion with just enough time for her to launch herself at me.

And it was all over. My face was hand printed blue and red. I stood there helplessly, rendered defenseless as I kept my grip on James. Cammie giggled at my pout. She started tracing little symbols—hearts, stars, smiley faces—on my arms. I groaned.

"You look stunning, Master Goode. A true work of art."

"I'm sure." I grunted back as she observed her handiwork.

James began to radiate his airy laugh and I couldn't help but break my sulk into a smile.

I gave Cammie a little sideways grin. "Thank you for this."

She tried to shrug it off. "It's not much. Really, I wanted to do more but we-"

"No." I cut her off. "Not this," I motioned to the little canvases on the ground with jerk of my shoulder, "they're beautiful, but that's not what I meant." I looked her straight in the eyes, hoping to convey the seriousness of my words. "Thank you for this." I bounced James in my arms, receiving delighted squeals. "For making me a father."

Cammie's smile warmed the room like the morning sun. "I couldn't have done it on my own you know." She stepped closer, letting James grasp her fingers with his own. "It's kind of a two-person job."

I shifted James into one arm, enveloping Cammie with my other. "I couldn't do this without you. I'm glad you're my person, Lady Cameron."

"Me too, Master Goode. Me too."

This epilogue is over a year late. That seems absolutely insane to me and I sincerely offer my apologies. Time has been flying like wind in a hurricane. I hope that you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for being such troopers and sticking with me until the (very long and drawn-out!) ending. Of course, as you know, even the simplest review absolutely makes my day. I love you all to beautiful pieces. You are all frazza-tastic. I think I just made a new word. Yep, I'm rolling with it. Happy Fourth of July to my fellow Americans! All my love and God bless you!

~SpaceNut