As promised, here's the epilogue. Enjoy!

Brennan was sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee and staring off into space.

"Mom?" Ryder called, passing her on his way to the refrigerator.

Mom?" Christine echoed, running in behind her older brother and crashing into his legs.

Ryder whipped around and glared at the seven year-old. "Stop following me."

Christine crossed her arms over her chest and tipped her chin up. "Stop following me."

He grunted. "STOP!"

Christine smiled. "STOP!"

"Leave me alone."

"Leave me alone," Christine parroted.

He was silent for a few minutes before he smirked. "I'm an idiot."

"You didn't have to say that," Christine burst out laughing, "I already knew that." She stuck out her tongue at him and ran out of the room.

He pursed his lips, clenched his jaw, and chased after her. "Get back here, you little rat!"

Christine stopped at the bottom of the stairs and shook her head. "Hey! I'm not a rat." She turned around quickly and bolted up the steps.

"Grrr!" He growled and followed her.

Brennan shook her head, smiling to herself at the children's was all innocent, she knew. Ryder and Christine were close, as close (if not closer) than her and Russ had been long ago. She drained the rest of her coffee and put the mug in the dishwasher. She left the kitchen and walked upstairs. Peeking into Ryder's room, she found both kids wrestling, Christine pinning her older brother to the floor.

"I win!" Christine boasted.

"Not so fast," Ryder muttered, flipping his little sister and holding her shoulders down. "One, two—." Before he could reach three, his eyes widened and he gasped as he was once again beneath Christine.

With her knee against his stomach and her hands pushing on his shoulders, Christine could feel Ryder wriggling under her. She smiled down at him, a twinkle in her blue eyes. "Three," she said, leaping up and taking off.

Brennan caught the little girl before she could escape.

Christine stopped and looked up at her mother. "I won."

Brennan smiled. "I saw." She smoothed her daughter's bangs and tightened her ponytail a little.

Ryder rolled his eyes, turning so he was lying on his stomach. "I let her win."

Christine whipped around, placing her hands on her hips. "Did not!"

"Did so. I'd break you in half if I was actually trying." Ryder flexed both arms, showing off his muscles. "Check these babies out. C'mon, feel 'em. Rock solid, baby."

Christine shook her head. "I don't believe you." She looked up at her mother. "He's lying. I'm strong too. He's just mad 'cause a little girl beat his big, ugly butt!" She stuck out her tongue at him again.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Okay, that's enough, you two."

"He started it," Christine stated, shrugging her shoulders.

"I did not. Mom, she's totally lying. She's the one who started copying everything I said."

"I said, enough!"

Both kids blinked and nodded, not saying another word on the subject.

Brennan exhaled. "Now, Ryder go take a shower and you," she looked at Christine, "go clean your room. You have toys and clothes everywhere."

Christine sighed. "Do I have to?"

Brennan nodded. "Yes. Now go, both of you." She turned and left the bedroom, heading down the hall to her own. She sighed, seeing the untouched side of the bed. "Please come home soon, Booth," she whispered as she smoothed down the covers and fluffed the pillows.

Later that afternoon, Brennan was walking down the paper good aisle at the supermarket, trying to decide between printed or unprinted paper towels, when she heard a familiar voice, a voice she hadn't heard in over five years. Tossing the first package of paper towels she could grab, ones with little butterflies and flowers, she turned and started heading in the opposite direction.

Once she made it far enough away, she hid behind the aisle cap shelving unit and tilted her head so she could peer into the aisle. She wanted to make sure she wasn't hearing things, plus she was more than a little curious. It can't be, can it? She shook her head. No. She looked from one customer to another and another, only she had studied each person present, excluding the two men. When her eyes caught the final person, she blinked. The hair color was wrong, but the face was unmistakable, even if it was a little worse for wear.

Quickly, she ducked behind the shelving unit and walked away, her eyes on high alert. She finished her shopping trip in record time and left.

Brennan took the rotisserie chicken out of the oven and set it down on the counter. She grabbed the sliced lemon and squeezed the rest of the juice onto the skin. She slid over to the stove and checked on the green beans and stirred the rice. As she reset the timer, she heard the front door open and click shut. Gripping the wooden spoon tighter, she inched closer to the hallway; she wasn't expecting anyone, much less anyone who would just walk right in without knocking or ringing the bell. She could have sworn she locked the door and she was sure no one could guess where the spare key was hiding.

She heard footsteps approaching and…whistling? Her eyes widened when she realized the song being whistled and dropped the spoon. She stepped away from the wall and ran into the hallway, nearly colliding with the intruder.

"Glad I was missed," the intruder said, dipping his shoulder, so his duffle bag could slide off onto the floor.

She leaped into his open arms and threw hers around his neck, her legs hooking around his waist. She tilted her head slightly and pressed her lips against his, melting into his chest. She finally broke the kiss, leaning back and taking a look at his face. She lifted her hand to cup his cheek and brushed her thumb across the short stubble. "Hi, Booth," she whispered.

Booth smiled wide. "Hi." He gave her a small peck on the cheek and then set her back down on the floor. "I missed you, too." He laughed, subconsciously licking his bottom lip. He walked farther into the kitchen and slumped down at the table, exhaling. "It's good to be home."

"How was it?"

"They're a good group of guys, still green, but they've got what it takes," he answered.

She smiled. "They have a great teacher."

"Thanks, Bones. I feel really good about these new recruits." As he and Brennan discussed, he took that course at Quantico when Christine was eight days old. By then, he knew in his heart that he had no interest in being an agent again, but he wanted to prove to himself that he could actually finish the course. Not only that, but he knew those skills would be useful to have.

He was in the shooting range one day, practicing for his final firearms test, when he was approached by a man in a suit. The man, who introduced himself as Damon Tanner, had said he was part of the staff recruiting team at the academy and asked if he'd be interested in a job. Booth's interest was piqued and he listened for the next fifteen minutes as Damon told him about the job, which consisted of overseeing the new recruits as they went through the tactical, safety, and firearms portions of their training, as well as helping run the refresher courses for agents all over the East Coast. Since Damon had heard a lot about Booth, he knew he had a family and that they lived closer to the Washington, DC area, so he mentioned that Booth would get a call when his physical presence was needed, which would only be one or two weekends a month, and that a majority of his job would involve planning the training exercises and organizing the trainings, which could all be done at home.

They discussed salary, which was a step up from what he was being paid as a Special Agent, and all the particulars that went along with the job. Booth wanted to accept right then and there, but he knew he needed to discuss it with Brennan, so after his firearms test the next day, he had told her about the opportunity. She told him to do what he thought was right, to do what he wanted, and that she would support whatever he decided, as long as it made him happy. He had called Damon that night and accepted the job offer, to which Damon told him to call when he finished his training and they'd discuss when he'd start, which ended up being a week and a half later.

Since then, his duties expanded. He now traveled all over the country, interviewing FBI directors to find out if they were satisfied with their agents' performances and if not, what they felt needed improvement. He also studied the agents in action, using that information to customize their training exercises among other things. He was enjoying the work and he liked being able to work from home. He didn't like being away from Brennan and the kids two weekends a month, but it was a small price to pay for his sanity and being able to contribute to the family. Ryder and Christine thought what he did was awesome and making them proud was one of the biggest reasons he wanted—needed—to go back to work.

She nodded. "They have very large shoes to fill." She smiled at him and headed back over to the stove to turn down the burners. "I saw Rebecca today," she blurted out.

He coughed, staring at her. "You what?"

"I saw Rebecca today, at the grocery store," she repeated.

He blinked. "Are you sure?" He shook his head. "Never mind," he muttered, realizing how stupid that question was. Of course she was sure.

"The woman I saw had dark brown hair, a little lighter than Angela's, but her facial structure was distinctively Rebecca's. It was her."

He balled his hand into a fist, keeping it at his side. "Did she talk to you?"

"I don't believe she saw me. If she did, she ignored me because we did not speak." She removed the pots from the stove and drained the green beans in the sink. "From your shocked expression, I assume you didn't know she was released either?"

He shook his head. "No. I mean, Caroline didn't call me or try and get me the message."

"Perhaps she doesn't know yet," Brennan rationalized. If Caroline had known, she would have said something, wouldn't she have?

Just then, their home phone rang. He stood up and grabbed it while Brennan busied herself with dinner; the kids would be coming downstairs soon to ask what was taking so long and complain that they were starving. "Booth." He nodded, looking over at Brennan with a smile. "Caroline," he mouthed.

Brennan nodded back, straining to listen to the one sided conversation.

He hung up a few minutes later and sighed. "Out for good behavior. Apparently, she was a model prisoner after she started seeing one of the prison-hired shrinks. The doctor put in a good word for her with the parole board."

"What do we do?"

He slumped forward and propped his head up with his hands, his elbows resting on the tabletop. "I don't know, Bones."

"It's good she's seeing a psychiatrist," Brennan said after a minute.

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" He laughed.

She furrowed her brow. "I am your wife. I don't understand what you're talking about." She smiled, giving away the fact that she knew he was only teasing her. "Even though I do not wholly agree with psychiatry, as most of the time it's simply guesswork disguised as meaningful insight, I think a psychiatrist can really help Rebecca and the ultimate goal is to have her and Parker have some kind of relationship, is it not? This may be the first step in achieving that."

"Have you forgiven her? For what she did."

She shrugged. "It's been almost eight years, Booth."

"I haven't. I don't think I ever will be able to. She almost took you away from me, almost took Christine away before I even had a chance to meet her. And God knows what she did to Ryder before the police found him. She put Parker through Hell all because she wanted to win, Bones. That whole mess wasn't even about him; it was about her wanting to show us up, prove she was the better parent, the better person. She can see every shrink on the planet and go to confession every day for the rest of her life and it still won't make up for what she did."

She abandoned her dinner preparations and walked over to the table. Instead of sitting in an empty chair, she sat right on his lap, hooking her arms around his neck and leaning back against his chest. "You have to let that go, Booth. I'm fine, Christine and Ryder are fine, Parker's fine; she didn't succeed. She tried to tear us apart, but she failed. But if continue to hold onto this anger, it'll kill you, it'll slowly destroy you. I've seen it. There are little things. The way you seem to pull away when we're out to dinner and someone walks in who looks like her. When Parker was still in high school and we'd meet with his teachers and they'd mistakenly refer to me as his mother, your jaw would tick, the vein on the side of your neck would bulge, your eyes would darken, and you'd only say one or two words at a time from then until the end of the conversation." She paused. "Or the time you had to leave the room because Christine asked if Parker and Ryder had the same mommy as she did."

He held up his hand. "I get it."

"I don't think you do."

He sighed.

"I know you think you've kept that all pretty hidden, but you forgot how well I can read you. I'm still not very skilled at social interactions and I can still read bones better than people, but I know you. You can't hide anything from me, at least not for very long." She paused. "Doesn't your God preach forgiveness? That we should forgive everyone who has wronged us no matter what they have done? Not for them, but for us?"

He stared at her. "I've tried," he whispered.

She lowered her head to his shoulder and shifted on his lap. She moved one arm from around his neck and slid her hand down until it hovered over his heart. "Let it go. Don't let her win. To forgive her is not to excuse what she did."

"I know. It's just—it's hard, Bones."

She smiled. "I know."

"How did you do it? Forgive her, I mean."

"I just did. There's no instruction manual for that kind of thing. I just realized that in order to attempt to move on from what happened seven years ago, I had to start with that. And when I did and actually meant it, not just saying the words, I felt better. You will too." She paused. "You forgave your father for what he did, didn't you?" At his nod, she added, "Well, how did you do that?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist and closed the gap between their lips.

"Ewwww!" Christine shouted when she walked into the kitchen, covering her eyes.

"That's just nasty!" Ryder said, shaking his head.

Booth jerked back and Brennan jumped off his lap, more in surprise at Booth's reaction than the kids' exclamations.

After the initial shock at seeing his parents in a heated lip-lock, Ryder's eyes widened. "Dad!" He ran over to the table and hugged him tight.

"Daddy!" Following her older brother's lead, Christine race over to the two of them and squeezed her way between them, throwing her arms around her father's torso. "I missed you."

Booth smiled, letting out a breath. As he said before, it felt really good to be home. "I missed you guys so much."

After several minutes, Ryder and Christine finally let go.

"Christine, Honey, can you set the table? Dinner is almost ready." Brennan looked from her daughter to her son. "And RJ, can you get the drinks?" She paused. "Now."

The two children groaned, but did as she said, knowing what would happen if she had to ask again.

Brennan looked over at Booth and he nodded in response, both silently agreeing to keep discussing the Rebecca issue later.

Booth got up and helped Brennan put the food out on the table. He kissed her on the cheek as they stood by the stove. "Thanks for dinner, Bones."

Brennan smiled, grabbing the bowls of green beans and rice. "You're welcome. You weren't supposed to be home until tomorrow. If I knew you would be home tonight and home in time for dinner, I would have grilled up some steaks."

Booth shrugged as he carved the chicken and placed the pieces onto the empty platter. "I wanted to surprise you. Besides, chicken's good too. It smells delicious." His stomach grumbled. "I haven't eaten since breakfast. I'm starving." He winked.

"Moooom, Daaaad, c'mon! We're starving!" Ryder complained.

Brennan smiled and continued on her way to the table, Booth following her with the sliced chicken.

"Christine, would you like to say grace tonight?" Booth asked when everyone had made up their plates.

Christine nodded and they all grabbed hands, bowing their heads. "Thank you God and Mommy," she added as an afterthought, "for really yummy food. Oh, and thanks for bringing Daddy home safe."

"Amen," Booth said, Christine and Ryder echoing.

"Let's eat!" Ryder said, already digging into his giant mound of chicken. "This is really good, Mom," he mumbled, his mouth full of food.

"Ryder," Brennan started, knowing just saying his name would be enough.

Ryder clamped his mouth shut, chewed, and swallowed before speaking again. "What's for dessert?"

"RJ, you're not even done eating your dinner and you're already thinking about dessert?" She asked the question, but Brennan wasn't the least bit surprised. Her son definitely had a sweet tooth and like his father, his favorite dessert was pie. If it were up to him, he'd have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

The rest of dinner passed quickly, with Booth sharing stories from his weekend, Brennan catching Booth up on all he missed while he was away, and Christine and Ryder filling in the gaps and fighting over the last roll (it wouldn't be a Brennan-Booth family dinner otherwise).

After dinner, while Brennan switched the clothes and Ryder was upstairs in his room, Booth was relaxing on the couch, Christine stretched out across the cushions, her head resting on her father's lap. She was still awake, but fading as Booth ran his fingers through her long dirty-blonde hair.

"Daddy?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He paused his combing and looked down at her. "Yeah, Princess?"

"A lady called before and I just remembered. She told me to tell you or Mommy that she called and to call her back as soon as possible, but I forgot. I'm sorry," she spat out quickly without taking a breath. She rolled onto her back and stared up at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Who called, Angel?"

"I don't know. I mean, I don't remember. I wrote it down." She got up and padded across the room to where the phone was docked. Next to it was a pad and she ripped the first page off and made her way back to the couch. She sat down again and handed him the note.

He took it and watched out of the corner of her eye as she shifted and tucked her legs under her bottom. "I'm sure if it was really important, whoever called would have called back when she didn't hear from us," he reassured his daughter, knowing she was feeling a bit guilty for not remembering to pass along the message to himself or Brennan. He glanced down at the paper and swallowed, his hand automatically curling and crumpling the paper. His eyes narrowed and he exhaled, turning to face Christine. "Did she say anything else when you answered, Christine?"

She shrugged. "I don't remember."

"You're like your Mom in all the best ways, Angel. You school me in Memory all the time. C'mon, I know you remember. Just think. Think, Honey. What did she say? How did she say it?" He paused. "C'mon, think!"

She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. "I don't know! I'm sorry. I don't remember."

Booth sighed and pulled her into him. "I'm sorry. Daddy didn't mean to yell."

"Did I do something wrong? I know you tell me not to answer the phone, but Mommy told me to 'cause she was in the bathroom and Ry was in his room and didn't hear the phone. I'm sorry. She sounded really nice and—." She couldn't finish. She hiccupped, tears cascading down her cheeks as she clung to her father.

He tightened his hold on her, cupping the back of her head. "Shhh. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. I'm sorry. Shhh, Baby." Eventually, Christine fell asleep and adjusted her so she was once again lying down, her head in his lap. He stroked her hair, twirling her loose curls around his fingers. He tipped his head back when he felt a hand on his shoulder and sighed. "She called. Rebecca called. She wants us to call her back. I—I don't think I'm ready to hear what she has to say, especially if she wants to apologize for what she did. It's a little too late for that. I know you think I should forgive her and I know you're right, but I can't; I just can't." He looked down at his sleeping daughter and swallowed. "I need to let go, though. I made Christine think I was mad at her because she couldn't remember what Rebecca said to her. God, Bones, she looked so scared," he lowered his voice, "of me."

Brennan leaned forward, draping her arms over his shoulders and resting her chin on the top of his head. "She loves you." She paused. "Can I help? I mean, is there anything I can do to help you let it go?"

"Can you take her? I think I'm gonna take a drive, clear my head a little."

Brennan nodded, walking around the couch and carefully scooping Christine into her arms.

The seven year-old stirred and curled into Brennan's chest, mumbling something as she drifted back to sleep.

"Be careful," Brennan said before walking out of the room and disappearing upstairs.

Booth took a few minutes to regroup and then stood, grabbing his jacket and heading out the front door. He had no idea where he was going, but he got in his car and just drove.

Booth ended up at the cemetery and as if his legs had a mind of their own, they took him down the path and led him straight to his grandfather's grave. He ran his hand over the marble and sank down in the grass. Tracing the name with his finger, he slumped forward and sighed. "I know you never liked Rebecca, Pops, and I don't really like her too much now either, but I need your help. She's out of prison, she's been out a few days, actually, and I don't know what to do. Should I call her? I know I have to call Parker and tell him, but he's doing so well at school and I don't want to mess him up by giving him the bad news. Is it bad news? I don't even know. She called the house and I kinda freaked when Christine told me she talked to her. I'm pretty sure I scared her. She looked at me just like Parker did when I yelled at him about talking to strangers during the Epps case years ago. I overreacted, but she's so innocent, you know? She doesn't even know about Rebecca and that whole mess and I just want to keep that all away from her. Ryder, too."

He picked at the grass, staying silent for a while, just listening, letting the wind whip at him and sweep through his hair. "What should I do? Am I really mad at Rebecca? Or am I mad at myself for not being able to prevent her from doing that to Bones, to Parker, to RJ? It's been seven years. People can change in seven years, right? Bones isn't the same person she was when I met her, Hell, I'm not either. I mean, seven years ago, Rebecca wouldn't even comply with the judge's order to see someone and now she's been talking to a psychiatrist for a while now. She dyed her hair. What do you think that means?" He laughed. "Why am I even asking you all this, Pops? I should be talking to Sweets." He shook his head, looking up at the sky. "Not that he can give me any more answers than you can." He said a quick goodbye and stood up. "Rest in peace, Pops." He crossed himself and headed back to his car.

"Seeley."

He jumped, turning around. He blinked. Now what the Hell was he supposed to do?

Rebecca held up her hands. "Look, I just want to talk. Just talk."

He nodded, leading the way over to a bench under one of the large trees lining the cemetery. He sat down and waited for Rebecca to join him.

She sat on one end while he occupied the opposite side, his body pressed against the armrest. "I'm not here to ask where Parker is. I'm not—one of the terms of my release is I have to complete at least a year of therapy before I can even contact him. If I violate that, I could go back to prison and I really, that's not somewhere I want to be. It was bad in there, Seeley."

"Are you here to make me feel sorry for you? Because if you are, you can just go. I didn't put you there; you did that all on your own. I was an FBI agent; I know prison isn't a walk in the park. But it's not supposed to be."

Rebecca nodded. "I know. I'm not asking for sympathy; I don't deserve it. I'm just trying to make you understand that I don't want to go back there again. I—I don't think I'll ever get over what happened to me in there."

He nodded. "What do you want, then, Rebecca?"

"How is he?"

"Now you care?"

She sighed. "Please, Seeley. I'm trying here. I met someone in there, we became pretty close. She has a kid. Actually most of them have kids, but that's not the point." She shifted, folding her hands on her lap. "She gave birth to her daughter while she was there and had to immediately give her up. She has no family and the father isn't reliable, so her daughter's in foster care now. She spent all of two minutes with the baby, but she talks about her as if she took care of her, as if she got to see her first steps, hear her first word, as if she actually got to be her mother. She carries around her sonogram picture because that's the only picture she has of her. She'd make up stories about her life, a life she knows nothing about. She doesn't even know if her daughter's okay, where she is, or who her new parents are."

He looked at his watch and then at Rebecca again. "What's your point?"

"My point is, listening to her made me realize that I do know who my kid is, who he's living with, that he's safe and protected, that he's loved. I know, at least I knew, his favorite food, his favorite color, his lucky number, what TV shows he likes, what he looks like. I was there for his first smile, first word, and first steps. But then I realized that I missed a lot too. His nanny knew more about him than I did at times. I always thought I was working so much to provide for him, and maybe that was true, but it was also because sometimes I was overwhelmed. I never planned on having kids, especially not as young as I was, when I was just starting out my career."

"What about me? If you were overwhelmed, you know I would have given up everything to have more time with him. I would have helped!"

She nodded. "I know, but I was stubborn. I had to give up so much when I found out I was pregnant and here you were, your life virtually unchanged. You could have left at any point and no one would have known you had gotten me pregnant. You didn't have that reminder every time you looked in the mirror. You didn't have to deal with morning sickness, back aches, swollen ankles, acne, stretchmarks, weird cravings, wild dreams, or frequent urination. Nothing changed for you. I was responsible for keeping our son safe. I had to give up drinking and late nights at work. Because of that, I was jealous of you, I guess, and though it was petty, I wanted to make you suffer. I didn't want to cut you out of Parker's life completely because despite the PTSD and your gambling addiction, you were a good man and I knew you'd be a good father. I didn't want Parker to suffer too much because of me. Your job being dangerous was only part of my reason for limiting your visitation."

He shook his head. "What the Hell! Do you think this makes me feel better?"

"I didn't expect it to, Seeley. I'm just being honest."

"Well, I would have been better off if you kept that confession to yourself. You haven't changed at all, have you? Basically, you kept my son away from me because you wanted to spite me for being a man." He shook his head and stood up. "I think we're done here."

"You're missing my point!"

He turned around to face her again. "What is your point then?"

"I realized that I've taken having Parker for granted. We fought over your visitation, yes, but you never actually did anything about it. You threatened to involve lawyers, to file for custody, but you didn't actually go through with it. There was never a time that I was actually truly afraid to lose Parker. Then Temperance got involved and suddenly you grew a set and filed for custody. I got scared. I got so wrapped up in the whole mess that I forgot what—who—I was fighting for. It just became about winning, about beating you and Temperance. That woman, she's good for you Seeley and I know she loves Parker like her own son, Parker loves her too."

He stayed silent, trying not to interrupt, even though he wanted to, badly.

"I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm sorry. I should have just accepted that Parker wanted to live with you and left it at that. But I didn't. I overreacted and it almost cost Temperance her life. I'm not asking for forgiveness; I don't deserve that either, I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."

"You're right. I don't want to hear it. It's too late for apologies, Rebecca. Bones almost died. Do you have any idea what you did? I mean, really? Running Bones down with the car was one thing, but kidnapping RJ? All because you wanted to get back at Bones for taking Parker, which by the way, was not how it happened nor was it her intention to replace you in his life. Do you know that despite all that you did, she still stuck up for you, kept telling him that it was okay to still love you."

She blinked.

"Your apology means nothing, your confessions mean absolutely nothing to me. Congrats for finally realizing that you should have been a better mother, but it's too late. I can't speak for Parker, but if you ever, ever try to contact me or my wife again, you'll regret it. And don't even think about coming by the house. I don't ever want to see you again." He started walking towards the parking lot, but stopped and turned around. "I may hate you, but you know what? I'm not letting what happened seven years ago keep me from enjoying the life I've built. You hurt all of us with what you did, but I'm done letting you hurt me. I'm done, so I forgive you. I'm not going to let you win. Bones is alive and I fall more in love with her every single day, Christine never ceases to amaze me, so full of life, smart like her mother, real funny, too, Ryder, Ryder is a great little Guy, doesn't meet anyone he doesn't like or who doesn't like him, doesn't have a selfish bone in his body, and Parker, well he's thriving, no thanks to you."

She just stared at him and was about to speak, but he wasn't finished yet.

"If Parker wants a relationship with you, it'll be up to him. I won't prevent him from talking to you, but if you ever hurt him again and I'll be the judge of what hurting him looks like—," he trailed off, his threat having its desired result without him needing to finish his thought. "Goodbye, Rebecca. I would say it was nice seeing you again, but it really wasn't," he said as he walked off. That was probably not what Brennan had in mind when she said he should forgive Rebecca, but he had been holding all that in for seven years now. As he walked away, for the first time, he didn't feel like he wanted to punch a wall and if he turned around right then, he honestly didn't have the urge to pummel Rebecca. He said what he needed to say and that was that. He was going to go home, kiss Brennan and tuck Ryder and Christine into bed. Just knowing he was coming home to a wife who loved him and children who looked up to him, was definitely the rainbow at the end of a storm that had been raging for years.

THE END

I have no concrete plans for a sequel, but there's always a possibility. I am, however, currently messing around with an idea for another story that takes place sometime in Season 3 before the trial and centers around Max asking Brennan to do something that will change her life.

Anyway, thanks again for reading/reviewing and the follows/favorites. It's been one crazy ride and not at all where I envisioned the story going when I first started writing it or came up with the title, so thanks for sticking with me.