Chapter Four: Disturbances

"According to Hodgins, the samples found in the girls' rooms is adipocerous--soil from graves, and from the same burial site," Brennan stated, watching Booth's reaction carefully. After gulping about half his coffee, Brennan cringed when he muttered, "Perfect. Kid One goes missing and three others follow with zombie dirt in their rooms. Absolutely perfect."

"Cam's thinking the same thing you are, that the boy--Lyon Riddick--is already dead--and I say not to jump to conclusions without the hard facts," Brennan tried gently. Booth leaned back, distracted.

"I don't know what to think anymore. I'm starting to wonder if I'm going crazy," Booth chuckled mirthlessly.

"Maybe you're having too much coffee," Brennan tried to joke. It fell flat though, seeing that Booth didn't even crack a smile. Trying another tactic, Brennan asked, "Did you talk to Dr. Wyatt?"

Booth shook his head, claiming, "He's in England for a week. And besides, if I tell him--if he knew what was happening to me, I'd definitely have a forced vacation. And I can't, I need to solve this case."

"Well…" Brennan trailed off. She placed a hand on his, and squeezing gently, Brennan added, "Maybe that's what you need."

Booth retracted his hand and replied, "Right now I need to find those kids--preferably alive."

Brennan sighed and decided to switch topics. She didn't want to agitate him by bickering: she was intent on discovering what was wrong with her partner. Swirling a spoon in her own coffee, she asked, "What's been troubling you?"

Booth rubbed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak when a man came up to their table and asked, "Agent Booth?"

Booth looked up at the slightly overweight middle-aged man and stood, recognizing who it was. Shaking hands he introduced, "Mr. Riddick, this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. She's working on finding out what happened to your son."

Brennan offered her hand, but Lyon Riddick's father merely ignored her. Miffed, Brennan crossed her arms over her chest. Riddick stiffly asked, "Is it new protocol for law enforcement to take ten coffee breaks a day? I was here earlier and I saw you and your partner sitting on your asses doing nothing about my son's disappearance."

A vein in Booth's temple throbbed with indignation, but Booth calmly answered, "We are discussing the case right now. A father myself, I understand how frustrated you may feel, but I have to ask that you don't speak to my partner like that again."

Riddick snorted, "As you wish, Agent Booth. But my son deserves better than this--he always used to get what he wanted, and I suspect he'd be very angry knowing people were dragging ass." With that, he left an irritated Booth and Brennan at the Diner. On his way out, he shoved the waiter serving Booth and Brennan to the side and cursed at him.

"Okay, what in the hell was that about?" Brennan bristled. Booth sat back in his seat and commented, "My thoughts exactly."

"Was he like that when you first met him?"

Booth shrugged his shoulders. "He was a little off-kilter when I first spoke to him, but I contributed that to stress. He didn't even seem that worried at the time. Riddick is one of those guys who lives off an inheritance and doesn't give a flying crap about anyone else. He gets what he wants. Naturally, he'd feel the same way about his son."

"I feel like kicking him," Brennan observed. This time, she was able to get Booth to smile.

"That's normal when you start to look at him like a suspect."

"Guess that means we'll be seeing more of him, then," Brennan said.

Booth nodded and silence fell between the two of them. The air turned sulky, and Brennan felt that Booth was hesitating. Softly, she told Booth, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Booth shook his head, and rasped, "I know. But things are going to get really weird."

That was all the introduction he needed. "I've told you that I've been having nightmares. I see that little riddle, the missing kids--but they're dead and already decaying…I feel sick, and the room I'm in swirls. It feels so real, and I'm cold. And I honest-to-God feel terrified--real fear…and then I see him."

"Who's him?"

Booth shifted uncomfortably and a crash from the kitchen made him jerk. Diverting his eyes, Booth explained, "I don't know. He's just a figure, a faceless black phantom, almost. But a few hours ago, he kinda became more distinct. He was just an ordinary guy. But Bones…there's something I haven't told you yet."

Brennan locked her eyes with him and said gently, "Go on."

Booth took a deep breath and confessed, "They're not dreams. They're real. And I'm awake when all this happens. That thing is real…I black out, and when I wake up again, everything is normal."

Brennan chose her words carefully. "Booth…are you trying to tell me that…some 'being' comes into your apartment?"

"No. I'm trying to tell you that I think I'm dealing with some kind of entity…" Booth cringed at his choice of words and flushed red after seeing the look of serious doubt cross her face.

"A ghost?" Brennan said evenly.

Booth's silence was her answer. Breathing out forcefully, Brennan stated, "I was really hoping you would tell me the truth--"

"Bones, this is the truth. You know I never lie to you--never," Booth pleaded.

Brennan closed her eyes, "I can't…you know I can't believe this whole notion of haunting and black ghosts and--"

"I know, but as your friend, I felt like I needed to tell you what was wrong," Booth said quietly.

"And as your friend, if you truly believe this, then I think you need some help," Brennan's voice squeaked. It was heartbreaking--she was seeing her partner's mental breakdown, and she was powerless to stop it. "You don't understand how this all sounds…and frankly, I've never felt so worried for you before."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Booth demanded.

Brennan studied him before saying, "I want you to go home and rest. I'll tell Cullen that you're sick. Please…"

Booth stood abruptly and gritted out, "Fine." He felt angry that he was being dismissed like this, that his partner wasn't going to believe him. The anger replaced itself with his own self-doubt. He knew he would sound crazy for telling her his suspicions, and that she would have a hard time accepting what he believed. Maybe he was going insane…that option seemed to be a little better than being haunted by a ghost. Brennan watched Booth leave and she shook her head sadly. She had come to the Diner looking for answers, but instead she would depart even more disturbed than before…

Drew Himmelman clutched his checkered comforter tightly as the oncoming storm threatened to make its way directly over the six-year old's roof. Sure, his parents were downstairs, fretting about his rising temperature, but Drew knew he would be too scared to go back to the living room for help. There was something in the air…it was growing heavier. His breathing increased and sweat ran from his forehead. He heard scratching on the outside of his window, and his green eyes widened with alarm. It was then that he noticed, that said window was still open.

"Mommy…" he called out meekly. His voice hitched in his throat when he saw a small puff form from his mouth. It was familiar--the tiny cloud that came when he was standing at his bus stop in the dead of winter, wrapped up in scarves and coats. He shook his head, not understanding: his icy breath was occurring in room-temperature.

Words began to form on the ceiling, and Drew nearly screamed as the caked mud dripped onto the floor.

"Up the stairs they go…"

A sudden rush of wind and a figure stormed his bedroom. Before Drew could yell he felt a suffocating darkness.

Five minutes later when his mother went to check on him, he was gone.