As promised, this is the epilogue for the Right from the Start series. This chapter is just part 1, and right now it's looking like there will be about 8 parts. I know that's long for an epilogue, but apparently brevity is not my thing. I'm not planning to post on a schedule, but if you've been following my updates, you know that I'm not one to drag things out. After this is complete, the series will be done. I will keep writing, but I'm moving on to other ideas.

Enjoy and please review!

Epilogue
Part 1

For a man less than two weeks off of a gunshot to the chest, Seeley Booth was in remarkably good spirits. Yes, he was in pain, but it couldn't seem to touch his constant state of elation. His wife was pregnant. Pregnant. They were having a baby. The thought of their child growing within her made his still-aching chest swell with joy. He didn't even need the narcotic pain relievers the hospital had sent home with them.

How many times had he pictured her body changing, growing heavy with their child? Hundreds? Thousands? He'd been dreaming about it ever since he'd realized that she was the only one he would ever want. Now it was really happening. They would have a daughter with Brennan's quick wit and breathtaking beauty… Or perhaps a son with her sharp mind and unfailing courage. The thought brought a giddy smile to Booth's face.

He watched his wife flit about their bedroom, double-checking that he had everything he might need within his reach. She'd helped him into a reclining position on the bed and had practically ordered him to go to sleep, but there was no quieting his mind.

"You're supposed to be resting," Brennan reminded him. "This is the third time I've caught you grinning at me like a…"

"I think the phrase you're going for ends with 'buffoon.' 'Lunatic' might work too," he replied cheerfully, inwardly acknowledging the stiffness in his cheeks.

"You should close your eyes. Do you want your medicine?"

"Nope. I want you. Come lay with me."

"Booth, you can't possibly have sex right now," she sputtered in disbelief. His cheesy smile remained in place.

"I'll be good," he promised. "I just want you next to me. Please?" She rolled her eyes at his pout and settled herself on her side of the bed. Booth leaned carefully toward her for a kiss, and she met him halfway.

"Will you get some sleep now?"

"We'll see," Booth shrugged his good shoulder. His eyes drifted to her abdomen, and his glee bubbled in his chest once more. "How are you feeling? Have you been sick today?"

"Just a little this morning, but it passed quickly."

"Maybe you should rest. You look tired."

"I'll sleep when you sleep," she smirked.

"Sorry, baby. I'm just so happy." Wow, my cheeks really are sore, he mused, trying to relax his face.

"I know, Booth. I am too. I'm sorry I didn't just tell you right away. It was silly of me."

"Bones, we talked about that. It's completely understandable that you wanted to wait for the right moment. We were in the middle of a case."

"Speaking of which," Brennan said softly, her expression sobering considerably.

"Do we really have to get into that right now?" he interrupted, easily able to predict her change of subject. "It's over. Let's just focus on the baby and be happy, okay?"

"No, Booth. It's not over, because it's nearly all I've been able to think about for the past week. We need to talk about it. You jumped in front of a bullet. Not three months ago, you promised me that you wouldn't put yourself in unnecessary danger, and then you put yourself between me and a crazy woman with a gun." Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, and Booth's giddy smile had faded.

"Bones, there's no way in hell I would've just let her shoot you. Come on. You can't seriously tell me that you'd have preferred she shoot you instead," he challenged. She bit her lip hesitantly. He was right, and she knew it. But she didn't have to like it.

"I would've preferred you to shoot her before she was able to pull the trigger at anyone."

"You know there wasn't time for that," Booth said gently. He took her hand and encased it with his own. "I'm sorry I scared you, baby. But I'm not sorry I took a bullet for you. It wasn't just your life I saved, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat." He pulled her close enough for another kiss and was pleased when he felt her relax against him. When the kiss ended, their foreheads touched, and he gazed into her fathomless blue eyes.

"I was scared. I was so terrified that I was losing you… that we were losing you. And now, I can't even ask you to promise never to do it again, because I know you'd be lying."

"You're right," he agreed. "But I can promise to be careful. I'll keep my eyes and ears open, take every precaution, follow every protocol…"

"You did all of that with Pam," she reminded him. "There was nothing you could've done differently that would've prevented her from coming into that bar with a gun."

"You're right," Booth admitted. "We've gotta let it go, Bones. I'm alive, you're alive, the baby's okay. I'll heal quickly; I always do. You'll take good care of me." The smile was back, and his voice took on a slightly teasing quality. He kissed her again and continued truthfully, "You always do."

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Booth winced as he shrugged into his dress uniform and analyzed his appearance in the bathroom mirror. He was pleased that it still fit. His eyes flickered to Brennan's disapproving frown as she watched from the open doorway. As she'd expected, Booth was in full support of Cullen's plan to fake his death. The fact that this particular fugitive had successfully eluded his team had always bothered him. What Brennan didn't anticipate, however, was Booth's insistence upon making the arrest himself. He intended to pose as a member of the honor guard and watch for the man to appear.

"I still don't like this. Another agent can handle the arrest; it's not like you're the only one who knows how to work a set of handcuffs," she grumbled. Booth bit back a smile. Now that they knew she was pregnant, her mood swings finally made sense.

"I know that, Bones. I just… I need to be the one to do it. It's been nearly five years. I want to be the one to end it."

"You just got shot. You need more time to recover," she argued. "Besides, if the guy shows up at your supposed funeral and spots you, he'll run and possibly get away again."

"That's why I'm in disguise. Don't worry; it'll work out." He turned to face her and stood a little taller when her eyes raked over his uniform. "You like it?" he asked suggestively.

"I'd like it better in the closet where it belongs," Brennan lied unconvincingly. Booth grinned at her stubbornness and wrapped his arms around her waist, pleased that his wound didn't hurt with the movement.

"How about on the floor next to the bed?" Neither could hold back their smiles now, and Brennan sighed in defeat.

"Maybe later."

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As they neared Arlington National Cemetery, Brennan took a deep breath to fortify her nerves. She had hoped that they could both be spared the ordeal of attending Booth's fake funeral. Brennan had wanted to abstain for emotional reasons, and Booth had wanted her to stay home for safety reasons. Since Brennan hadn't wanted him to go either, they'd compromised. They would both go, and they'd both be as careful as possible. He'd shown her a picture of the man they were hoping to catch, and she hoped the job would be done quickly. The presence of other agents was reassuring, but no one would be able to make this experience any less painful for Brennan.

As Caroline gave the eulogy, Brennan's eyes gravitated toward her husband repeatedly. She was trembling slightly, trying her hardest not to recall how close they'd come to this farce becoming a reality. The fear that had broken her during those hours between the shooting and Booth's return to consciousness still lingered in the back of her mind. Brennan closed her eyes for a moment and forced herself to focus. She tuned out Caroline's words and avoided the expressions of false grief on the faces of her friends. When her eyes weren't scanning the small crowd for signs of the fugitive, they were adhered to her husband's face.

Booth stood at attention on one end of the honor guard formation. He was studying the faces of every man in the small crowd, save for those he recognized on sight, and when he spotted one from his past, it wasn't the one he'd been expecting.

It was his father.

Edwin Booth looked older than his actual age, and his eyes were bleak. He seemed sober, and he stared at the casket with grief and regret etched in every line of his face. The air caught in Booth's chest, and it was all he could do not to break formation, cross the small patch of grass, and physically pull his wife away from his father. He was standing mere feet from her, but he was outside of her line of sight.

For years, he'd been assuming that his father was dead. No one in his family had heard from Edwin since the day Hank had thrown him out of his own house. Booth was now regretting the decision not to use his professional resources to track the man down. His survival and protective instincts were still triggered by his father, and it hadn't even occurred to him that the man might show up for the funeral of the son he'd abused.

Booth shook himself mentally and forced his eyes away from his father. His eyes returned to their previous task of searching the crowd for the criminal's face, but it wasn't until after the guard had fired the third shot that Booth finally recognized him. The man had quietly joined the collection of fake mourners, and Booth stepped out of the formation to confront him. He was vindicated slightly by the look of shock on the fugitive's face, but it was clear that the man had no intention of coming quietly.

A scuffle broke out between them, knocking the casket open in the process. There was no body inside, of course, other than the mannequin they'd used to add some extra weight. Brennan pulled the leg out of the casket and swung it hard into the fugitive's head. The man collapsed to the ground almost instantly.

"Nice shot, Bones," Booth praised her. He bent down to cuff the unconscious man, but he failed to hide a wince of pain from his wife. She sighed and snatched the cuffs from his hands, closing them around the man's wrist herself.

"There," she huffed as two undercover agents carried the man away. "It's done. Let me look at your incision. You probably tore a stitch."

Booth allowed her to fuss over him as he scanned the crowd again, this time looking for his father. He was gone. Booth's hat had come off in the scuffle, effectively revealing his identity, and he supposed that Edwin must've fled while everyone had been distracted.

"What's wrong?" Brennan asked, studying her husband's troubled expression as they climbed back into the SUV. He waited until they'd pulled the doors shut before he answered her.

"I saw my dad," he replied grimly.

"What?" Her eyes were wide with shock, and she turned back to search the dispersing crowd. "Where? Which one was he?"

"He's gone now," he soothed her, shaking his head at the fierce expression on her face. Edwin had made the right choice by fleeing when he'd had the chance; Brennan looked like she wouldn't have minded a few rounds on the mat with the man. She looked back at Booth as he steered the vehicle toward the main entrance.

"Are you sure it was him?"

"Yes. He looked… weird."

"How so?"

"He looked sober," Booth answered wryly. "And upset. And at least ten years older than he actually is… And he was standing way too close to you. I very nearly blew the whole thing just to get you away from him. I don't understand why he'd show up after all these years."

"Guilt," Brennan said wisely. Booth scoffed at the idea.

"I don't remember ever seeing that particular emotion on his face. I wouldn't even know what it looks like."

"Well, if he's been out of contact with your family all this time, then he would've seen the news reports of your death. He would've had no reason not to believe them. Maybe he wanted… closure."

"He doesn't deserve it," Booth muttered bitterly. Brennan agreed with him softly and reached over the console to hold his hand.

Booth wasn't sure what to make of Brennan's assessment of the situation. He remembered wondering, not too long ago, how he would react if his father came back into his life the way Max had reentered Brennan's. As a boy, he'd never truly understood that his father had had a sickness, an addiction that had governed his actions and his thoughts. Booth had spent hours as a teenager, imagining the things he'd have liked to get off his chest were he ever granted the opportunity to speak to his father again. Now, however, he found himself feeling grateful that Edwin had run off like a coward. He had no desire to see or speak to the man ever again, and he certainly didn't want him anywhere near his family.

"You know," Brennan said hesitantly, pulling him from his thoughts. "It probably wouldn't be too hard to track him down now. Since we know he's in town…"

"No," Booth replied immediately, shaking his head. "It's not like with you and Max. Regardless of what Max has done to others, he has always loved his children and treated them as well as he could under the circumstances. That's not the case with Edwin." Brennan squeezed his hand but kept silent, realizing that it was the first time she'd ever heard him speak his father's name. "I have no intention of letting him into our lives, Bones. It was hard enough to stand in formation and see him standing so close to you. We have Parker and the new baby to think about too. No way in hell is that man coming near my family."

"Okay," she nodded placatingly. "I understand why you feel that way." Brennan could sense from his demeanor that he didn't want to discuss the matter further, so she decided to simply let it go. She felt slightly disappointed on his behalf, knowing now how it felt to make amends with her own father. However, the cases were indeed very different. She knew that Booth's logic was sound, and she accepted it willingly.

It still amazed her that Booth had come through such a horrific childhood to become the incredible man sitting next to her now, and in that moment, she found herself feeling even more grateful for Hank Booth.

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Betcha didn't see that coming, huh? ;) This idea got a hold of me when I was writing that scene in HIO where Booth tries to imagine how he'd feel if his father returned. When the FBI informed the people on his list, his parents obviously wouldn't have been on it, but they would've probably seen the news coverage if they were local. This is another reason I was ticked at the way they brought back his mom in S8. In my universe, she really is dead. Otherwise, she would've come back for her sons a long time ago.

Part 2 will deal with Zack's unraveling. Stay tuned. :)