DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Night at the Museum, or any of its contents, characters, actors, ideas...or anything at all related to it. I never have, and I never will. This is written for fun. I'm dirt poor, so sorry. This is for my entertainment and for those who read this.
I also don't own anything remotely recognizable in the story; music, devices, brand names or anything; if you recognize it, I don't own it. I make nothing off of anything. None of my works provide me a profit. Basically, I own absolutely nothing. Point blank.

As always, review replies:

To IKhandoZatman: Thank you! I had hoped to do such, so thanks for the feedback! I hope the epilogue is as good!

To KitWolfren: I'm so very sorry you've suffered that...but I hope you find someone who, if not as perfect as Ahk, is good to you. We all deserve someone good to us. But any heart-lightening I can give is gladly given, and I'm happy to have done it! But thank you, truly. I wanted to, as I never want to take something like that lightly. And thank you! I try to do that, because...well, I write too much as it is. Bahaha! Thank you again!

To joycelyn. : Well, thank you! I wanted to give the situation the respect it deserved, so I hope that was done well. But thank you! I hope you enjoy the epilogue!

To animechick247: Well, what we hope one would do, anyway! And I agree...but life is, and life will be, so we do what we can. But thank you! I think it's something in his character; I think a king knows power, and he knows to respect power, even power over one individual, so I wanted to give them that. Thank you. Anyway, thank you so much; I'm so glad the chapter came across so well. I hope the epilogue is as joyful!

To SummerMistedDragon: (Thank you for reviewing both chapters!) I'm so glad you enjoyed this, and thank you for the extra feedback! I hope the epilogue is equally as good. Thank you again!

Well, here we are: The epilogue.

I imagined this would be far longer, but the characters wrote it for me, and I feel, in the end, that it completes the story as it is.

But I want to thank all of you for sticking with me. I've written a lot of stories in my time and yet this is my favorite, and I want to thank you all for encouraging me, for your compliments and for all your patience.

Thank you, truly. I can't convey what it means to me, but truly, thank you, thank you, thank you.

I admit it's hard to say goodbye, but this is the end, and all things end one day. Instead, I shall hope this epilogue is as enjoyable as the rest of the story.

I have a final note before you begin to read. I highly suggest Something I Need by OneRepublic. It's just a little...feeling, between Emma and Ahk.

Thank you all again, and enjoy the finale.

Epilogue

Emma's eyes felt like lead, but she could hear her alarm buzzing on Ahkmenrah's table. She knew she'd need it to be out of her reach today. She grumbled and burrowed in to her husband's chest, taking in a deep breath of air, and couldn't help smiling when she felt his arm tighten around her. That...was better. That made this early morning far easier, she thought, and she sighed. "Could you...?"

"Mm," he hummed, and he reluctantly gave up his arm to reach behind him, flipping the alarm off. "We won't have the quiet for long, you know," he advised, when she snuggled right back in to him.

"Oh, I know it," she mumbled. "Doesn't mean I'm ready to give you up yet," she murmured.

He laughed softly, and he bent his head, kissing the top of hers softly, and he squeezed her close to him gently. "Come on. We've a promise to keep, my love," he whispered. "Shall I let you sleep, and get started on breakfast?"

"Mm," she whined, but then sighed. "No. I'll come with you," she finally agreed. "Putting it off won't do me any good."

He laughed softly again, but he rubbed her back for a moment, before he finally let go, stretching, and he rolled out of the bed and on to his feet in a smooth movement. They made the bed together, and though Emma was shuffling, they headed in to the kitchen, the house still in the quiet of early morning. The soft, gray light filtered through the windows, and Ahkmenrah just relished in it for a time. Though he had been a living human for a few years now, it was still a small miracle to see the sun every day, and to wake with his wife in his arms. He never took for granted the magic that gave him life, or the sacrifice his loved ones had made.

Still, his wife was struggling to wake—she had been forced to work late—so he set to work. Coffee was the first thing he started, and then he set to work on a big breakfast for his family as Emma set to work on feeding others of the family—their pets. She had surprised him, after their honeymoon, with a little kitten waiting for him in his son's arms—adopted just for Ahkmenrah.

That kitten had been a Savannah breed, a girl, and her name, to him, had been clear: Sacagawea.

Indeed, their pets had grown in number, and the adoption of another cat had earned the name Teddy. They had each taken after their namesake, and other small, precious creatures had joined the family, with suiting names; a cat named Attila, and two puppies—Jed and Octavius. They hadn't quite found the will to adopt a pet with Dexter's name, yet.

That was just inviting mischief, and they had enough to deal with as it was.

Their four-legged family were well versed on feeding times and rushed in when the first clink of food sounded in their bowls, and Sacagawea, when done, made only two leaps; one to a chair, and the next to Ahkmenrah's shoulder.

She had made herself his personal guardian, and Ahkmenrah had loved her the moment he saw her; he never protested her riding around on his shoulder, or when she'd stretch out around his neck and his wife's as they cuddled on the couch.

He took a moment out of his work to reach up to scratch her head, and she nuzzled his cheek in turn, and it was back to work.

The quiet morning—aside from soft, playful growls from the dogs—was finally disrupted when breakfast was nearly done, "Daddy!"

The cry was high and excited, and Sacagawea leaped from her perch, knowing what was coming; Ahkmenrah bent and scooped up the source of the sound, "Good morning!" His grin was immense, "Did you sleep well, Neferet?"

"Yeah, Daddy! Do we get to go today? Mama was really late last night!"

His eyes narrowed, "And what on earth were you doing up that late?"

"I was too excited to sleep!"

He relented, and laughed, and lifted his head to kiss her forehead.

It had taken time, but Evan had, eventually, come to understand what had happened to his mother. It was not easy for him, and both parents knew it, but on a late night when they had watched a movie, their son had inquired about a sibling.

Evan had been curious, and worried, and he had talked to his parents for a long time; they had explained, in gentle terms, due to his age, what it would mean and what would happen and they reminded him that, often, if he had a sibling, they would have to give his younger sibling their attention.

Evan had thought on it. But the child had earned his father's intelligence in spades, and even before Ahkmenrah came in to his life, Emma and her mother had done their best to raise him well, and the boy had understood.

On their next movie night, he'd said that, if they wanted...well, he would be okay with a sibling.

Emma had come far. She was not sure she could ever bear to be beneath Ahkmenrah, and he never did anything to suggest that he wanted such, but lovemaking had become easier. The memories were dulling, replaced with the genuine love Ahkmenrah showed her, and though she might never truly, fully forget or heal...well, her husband was a miracle in himself, and he ever loved her with the patience of ages.

They had talked, too.

Ahkmenrah admitted that, though he loved Evan dearly, and had seen in Emma's memory his early years, he would love to have a daughter of his own, to raise her where he had been unable to be with Evan. He had always wanted a daughter; perhaps it was because he was a "mama's boy" himself, or because his brother had been so wicked, he had always wanted a little girl for himself.

Of course, that was yet to be determined; if they had a child and it was a little boy...well, Ahkmenrah would still love his new son as much as he loved Evan.

With discussion and thought, they made sure Evan would be alright with having a baby brother or sister. With his permission, they agreed; one more little one.

Emma had glowed, Ahkmenrah insisted, but she had felt anything but; it was more difficult this time, though she still thought she had it easy, compared to the tales her mother had told her.

Ahkmenrah helped. Always.

Evan, too, looked after his mother, and Emma took comfort in knowing she was so loved.

The Egyptian gods seemed generous, for Ahkmenrah got his wish; a daughter with her mother's eyes, and her father's dark hair.

Evan loved her. Indeed, he wanted to look after her as much as his parents, and he spent long hours teaching her as she grew, and the little girl was never lacking love or affection from her family.

Ahkmenrah had named her "Neferet," for he knew she would be beautiful, and for the gods.

"Nef!" That was Evan—his voice had lowered, a little, and he had grown; he was nearly to his mother's shoulder already, and he'd, as she feared, turned out to be a handsome boy. But he was mature for his age and, though others of his age might have shunned their little sisters, Evan embraced her happily. He was old enough, now, to know exactly what had happened to his mother, and he had determined to never do that to someone, nor to let it happen to his baby sister. "Ready for today?"

Today was special. Today, they were going back to the museum for the very first time since they'd left. It would be hard...but Evan had talked so much about the museum and its wonders, Neferet had wanted to see it herself.

The little girl reached for her brother, and Evan took her carefully from his father; Ahkmenrah turned back to breakfast with ease; he knew Evan would care for his little sister. "I wanna see everything, Ev! I wanna see Rexy first!"

Evan had, with his parent's warnings, told her what others would remember; animatronics and actors, and had told her, too, that they didn't work anymore, but the little girl was still insistent on seeing history for herself.

Emma flew through the kitchen door and swept the two in to an enormous hug, lifting even Evan a few inches off the floor, "How are my babies? Are we ready?"

"Mooom!" Evan's indignant cry merely earned him a grin, and a gentle prod to the ribs; his half-laughed shriek set his father laughing, too. Still, once he was free, he kissed his mother on the cheek. "You were out late. We still get to go, right?"

"You'd never forgive me if we didn't!" She was teasing, a grin on her lips, "Daddy made coffee. I'm good to go," she assured, and she ruffled his hair; poor Evan seemed to have rolled out of bed and dashed to the kitchen, "Will you set out plates, please?"

Evan nodded, and he set to work, Neferet following him nearly every step, much to the delight of their parents. Emma leaned her hip on the counter, smiling after them. "We're lucky," she murmured.

"Very," Ahkmenrah agreed, and he leaned in, drawing her in to a soft kiss, and he felt her sigh in to it, melting in to him. No matter the passing years, and perhaps even in spite of them, Emma had not found her love faint for her husband. If anything, it grew and grew, and Ahkmenrah felt the same.

He curled his hand gently around the back of her neck, drawing her close, and she moved willingly in to him, lifting her arms to put them around his neck, breaking away only when she needed to breathe. "I love you," she murmured softly.

He smiled, a slow and wide one, "I love you, too."

Breakfast was a leisurely affair; Emma's mother shuffled in late, but she joined them and complimented Ahkmenrah on his cooking, as usual. She promised to look after the house and the pets and shooed them all off when Emma lingered, fussing over her mother and if it was too much, but the elder woman gave her a single look, and it was done.

Their children were mercifully well behaved, even in a car, and after eating lunch, they headed for the museum.

Ahkmenrah's feet faltered at the foot of the stairs, and he looked at the building. It was the same as ever, and it seemed an empty echo of his memories.

After all, many years of his life had been spent within those walls.

But his wife took his hand, and she pulled him close, drawing him in to a kiss; it was her turn to sooth him. She held his hands and rubbed her thumbs over the backs of his hands, smiling gently.

"We'll meet them again, Ahk," she murmured, her voice soft. "One day. And for now...you have us," she soothed, smiling.

Ahkmenrah took a deep breath, taking her words in with it, and looked at her for a long time, and then at his son, and his daughter. "Well. I think we promised them stories...so let's continue ours," he decided, at last, and he nodded, reassured by his wife and children.

Neferet reached up toward her father, and he bent to gather her in to his arms, and with Emma's hand curled gently in his elbow, as she had done so long ago, Evan squeezed his father's shoulder, and they strode, together, in to the museum.

Indeed, Ahkmenrah and Emma meant to have the longest of tales to tell their dear friends, and they were writing it, each moment, with each other and their children.

The End

Well. There we have it; the ending, as the characters presented it.

It's odd, and difficult, to think that this is the last time I'll update this story...but I feel I've given it its due and that its closing is complete, so I shall leave with contentment.

I hope you've all enjoyed this story as much as I have, and I hope that this ending is as fulfilling as you dreamed.

Thank you all again, so, so much, for joining me on this ride, and for keeping with me through it. Thank you for your comments and compliments and support.

Thank you, so much.

If any of you wish to talk or anything, I do have my PM box open, and I would gladly chat with you; I'm not always overly talkative, but I can also talk too much, but I'm here, anyway.

I do take requests, but I confess my brain is somewhat fickle; it works only when it wants to, at times; when the mood strikes, it will give me a wealth of words, yet sometimes, it gives me nothing.

Also, if you have created (or want to!) create art, please feel free! I can't draw at all (seriously, stick figures even fail me!), but I love to see people's art, and I've been trying to figure out a cover art for this fic—all credit would be given to you, of course.

Thank you all again!