AN: This is the last chapter of Evermore.

Chapter Eleven: The Kids Aren't Alright

One day later…

Brennan ripped the flimsy white hospital bracelet of her wrist, and tossed the offending plastic into a nearby trashcan. She leaned her head against the wall of the FBI observation room, and willed away the nauseous sensation at the pit of her stomach and the intense throbbing in her skull. Booth had scolded her for not staying longer at the hospital, but he didn't deny her the right to watch him interrogate her attacker. She looked into the two-way mirror showing Booth doing exactly that: grilling a middle-aged man with a gigantic, spray-painted anarchist insignia on a Sex Pistols t-shirt (with arm in a sling), and Booth was continuing to act like he wasn't as hungover as Brennan. The situation would have been comedic if in a story or on television, Brennan mused thoughtfully. Considering the elephant-sized dose of PCP she had been given, she was doing remarkably well. She felt, instead of how one would normally feel after nearly overdosing on the narcotic, as if she had ten drinks too many with Angela.

She saw Booth pause and turn toward the two-way mirror. He discreetly swallowed two Advil, no doubt for the pounding headache he was now suffering from. As he turned back, Brennan recalled how quickly Booth was reinstated. No sooner had they arrived at the hospital for observation, Cullen had alerted Internal Affairs that there was strong evidence supporting that Booth was poisoned with PCP, instead of the initial accusations that he had an addiction. Several hours later, the narcotics investigation was terminated, allowing Booth to interrogate Mr. Michael Jensen, the sorry man who made the monumental mistake of trying to kidnap Brennan. Jensen was lucky in one aspect: the bullet had pierced nothing but flesh, and was released immediately to the authorities, in order to be questioned.

Brennan felt a small smile tug at her lips. No doubt Jensen was in pain, anyway.

The past twenty-four hours (and week for that matter) was a whirlwind of memories and images…the most vivid being how Booth miraculously shifted his aim from her head to her assailant's shoulder. Goosebumps traversed her neck and arms. She saw the thing that kept her from crashing in her mirror at the apartment. It frustrated her to no end that what she did see seemed nothing more than a black blob. It nearly infuriated her that after she was freed from Jensen's grasp, that thing had disappeared. The only calming sense she had obtained from that whole experience was that Booth had seen it, too. At least, she thought humorlessly, I'm not going crazy.

"Get bent."

In the interview room, Jensen calmly sat back in his chair, and flipped Booth the middle finger. Brennan cringed. Booth's not going to like that. She was amazed that thus far, Jensen hadn't brought additional bodily harm to himself. She could sense that her partner wanted to pound the little twerp the way a football jock bullied the class nerd. Jensen was clearly proud about what he almost accomplished, and clearly felt a tremendous amount of pride in his screw-the-government-I-may be-45-but-I-can-act-20-anarchist image.

There was movement beside Brennan, and an agent opened the door to the room holding Booth and Jensen. Booth stuck his head close to the door so Jensen wouldn't hear. The other agent informed Booth, "The waiter from the Diner was located and is being brought in. Nineteen years of age, no priors, and happens to be your new buddy's kid brother. His name is Dean Jensen."

"Thanks," Booth processed. The door was closed again, and Booth sauntered over to Jensen. He said, very casually, "Your brother Dean is being brought in. We know he slipped the PCP into the coffees since the beginning of this case."

"Lay off my brother!" Jensen demanded. "He's just a kid who wanted to make a buck. He didn't even know what he was giving you and that author bitch."

Booth retorted, "Right, and Mother Teresa was a prostitute. Your brother isn't a kid anymore. He gets jail time if convicted for some pretty serious charges. This isn't a fairy tale, bud. Dean is being charged for PCP possession, two counts of attempted murder—"

"He wasn't trying to kill you!" Jensen spat.

"Doesn't matter. Dr. Brennan and myself nearly had cardiac arrest from the drugs your brother slipped into the coffee. That's attempted murder. He's also being charged for aiding an attempted kidnapping," Booth finished. Brennan saw his fists clench at the memory of witnessing a knife being pressed to his partner's throat. He leaned over the table and stared directly into Michael Jensen's eyes. "That's not the worst of it, Mikey. You and your brother are the prime suspects in the disappearances of five children."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jensen demanded. "What kids?"

"Lyon Riddick, Donna Willows, Sophie Rodriguez, Lydia Groening, and Drew Himmelman disappeared within the last week, ages 5-8. No ransom has yet to be made," Booth gritted.

"Yeah, those kids are all over the news. But what makes you think Dean or I know where they are? Huh?" Jensen charged.

"You seem willing enough to try ransoming my partner, you son of a bitch," Booth finally exploded.

"Listen up, you government prick, I have nothing to do with those kids, and neither does my brother. I know the law, that's only circumstantial evidence. 'Oh, look, he tried to ransom this person, let's charge him for this, too!' It won't hold up: why do you think I waived my lawyer rights, dumbass?" Jensen taunted.

"Genius, you confessed to committing felonies. If you had a lawyer, he would have told you to can it a long time ago."

"I can plead insanity."

"Knock yourself out," Booth retorted. He shook his head and asked abruptly, "Why my partner?"

"For being a civilian who willingly works for the force that crushes the First Amendment and imprisons the free peoples of this country," Jensen stated. At Booth's un-amused glare, Jensen admitted, "Look, I live in her building. I needed the money to pay off some debts. My trust fund dried out. You and I both know she would have raked in a lot of money."

"Why the PCP?"

"I didn't want to hurt her. So drugging her was a good option. PCP isn't as hard to get as some think it is. As for you, amigo, I knew from observation that you're practically her bodyguard—"

"Hey!" Brennan exclaimed from behind the glass. "I can take care of my own!"

"—so I gave you a little PCP beforehand to loosen you up."

"By 'loosen' you mean either kill or hospitalize," Booth accused.

"Take it whichever way you want it," Jensen challenged.

Brennan said aloud, "Why doesn't Booth just hit him already?"

Cullen's voice from behind answered, "Because he needs to make sure those kids are alive." Brennan turned toward Booth's superior, and was surprised at the sympathizing look she was given from him. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine," she fibbed. Slowly, over the years, Cullen's feelings for Booth's partner had changed from irritation to respect with annoyance, to actually liking the woman. Brennan acknowledged the fact and asked in return, "Why couldn't Jensen just bash me over the head or something? He lives in the same building as I do."

"He probably knew you'd put up a good fight if you were at your 100 percent," Cullen replied. He sighed as he watched Booth and told Brennan discreetly, "I do believe I owe that man an apology. I should never have believed he was using that stuff in the first place."

Brennan studied her friend from behind the glass. "Me too," she said softly.

"You couldn't have known," Cullen said gently.

"That's not the only thing I have to apologize for," Brennan added to herself. Cullen threw her a puzzled glance, but let it rest. Brennan knew in her heart that Booth was right about the ghost, which was more than likely Billy Rowley's. She had seen it. There was no erasing the memory, and she knew she couldn't use the argument that she was high because Booth had seen it the exact moment she did. She needed to apologize for not believing in him. Partners trusted one another; she hadn't put her trust in him.

At that moment, Booth came into the viewing room. He shut the door quietly and looked to the ceiling. "I think the kids are dead. As for our friend in the other room…I don't think he has anything to do with the disappearances. He has an alibi for the Lyon Riddick's disappearance. He claims he was at an anarchist convention, with over 100 people to testify he was there. Lie detector can confirm it, but I'm pretty sure it's going to confirm his story."

"Anarchists have meetings?" Brennan asked flatly.

"Apparently."

Brennan shook her head. "So what does all this mean?"

"It means," Booth groaned, "that there is another person out there. We have the right guy for the wrong thing."

"They're two completely separate occurrences? The kids' disappearances and the PCP poisoning of you and me are two coincidences?" Brennan shook her head. "I'm sorry, Booth, I can't buy that."

"Penny for your thoughts, Bones?"

Before she could explain, the agent who informed Booth earlier about the waiter, Dean Jensen, told Booth, "Just got a call from Davis. Dean Jensen was given a lie detector test. He knows nothing about the missing kids, but the sensors picked up incongruities when questioned about slipping PCP into your coffees."

Brennan remained silent as Booth crossed his arms. "We're no better than we started off. The brothers have nothing to do with the kids."

Brennan disagreed quietly, "I refuse to believe that the PCP connections are happenstances. Billy Rowley overdosed on PCP. Billy Rowley's grave epithet was found on 4 of the 5 missing children's mirrors. We were poisoned with PCP."

Booth shrugged his shoulders. "There are such things as coincidences."

"I know you don't believe that."

Booth threw up his hands and replied, "I don't like it anymore than you do. Not getting those children back to their families…Parker is the same age as them. I wouldn't know what to do if I were in their shoes." He rubbed his forehead. "I don't know what to do. We are still way out of our elements. I do homicide. You do dead bodies." He paused and added, "Not literally."

Brennan snickered slightly, which in turn caused Booth to grin. Cullen cleared his throat after watching the entire exchange and stated, "I hate to break this up, but Agent Booth, I believe I do owe you and apology."

Booth repeated Cullen's reassurance to Brennan. "You couldn't have known. You did what anyone in your position would have done." The two shook hands and Cullen left, repeating, "I truly am sorry, Booth."

Booth nodded his head and leaned back up against the wall. He turned his head to Brennan and sighed, "I won't give up on them. I can't. We should re-examine everything we have on the first kid, Lyon Riddick. His father seemed a little off at the Diner."

"I didn't mention much more about Billy Rowley with Cullen here, but I want you to get federal on John Rowley."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like him."

Booth said instead, "How about we question him again because his answers were suspicious."

Brennan, lost in her own thoughts, began to pace. "There has to be a connection between the Jensens and the disappearances. We can conclude that the black shadow you and I've seen is Billy Rowley."

Booth remained silent and Brennan continued, "Billy Rowley told you to find the kids. Billy died on PCP. We nearly died on PCP. There is something we're missing. Simple as that."

"You really believe Billy Rowley is the ghost?" Booth stared intently at her, almost amazedly.

"Logically, yes."

"You didn't believe in ghosts."

"I know what I saw."

Booth whistled. "This week really has been a tornado, hasn't it?"

Brennan's eyes were cast to the floor, and she stilled. Booth cocked his head to the side and asked, "What's up?"

She forced her gaze up, and replied almost ashamedly. "Cullen's not the only one who owed you an apology. I'm sorry for not believing you…about everything."

"I'm not mad, Bones."

"That's not the point. I owe you a lot more than a 'I'm sorry'…you were right about an entity being involved, and I practically mocked you…."

Booth waved his hand in dismissal. "Cut it out, okay?"

"Cut what out?"

"Remember when I told you that you were like a guy? As a partner and friend."

"Which would have made you the woman…"

Booth snorted. "You're acting like the woman now. I know you're sorry, and I know I was…harsh at times. You are the scientist. You need to process facts and see hard evidence. You rationalize. I am the cop. I have gut instincts. I can read people the way you read a skeletal structure. If you weren't the way you were, our partnership would fail. I should have understood trying to make you believe what I feel, without giving you the chance to be a squint, would have caused a rift. But we're okay, now. Alright? Besides, you saved my life. You came when I called."

Brennan gave him a small smile. "Squint, huh? I haven't heard that for awhile." She thought back to the night where she found Booth having seizures from the PCP. She never realized how close she came to not ever being called Bones again.

That frightened her more than the prospect of a ghost.

"So…am I back to being the guy?"

"Sure, Bones."

Awkwardly. Brennan raised her arms and smiled timidly, "Guy hug?"

He embraced her, and she felt him sigh against her shoulder. "We have to find those kids. Billy-boy won't leave us alone until we do. That I know."

"We will, Booth." She hugged him tighter. "Glad to have you back."

"Same."

She pulled away and suddenly added, "Just because I believe in Billy Rowley doesn't mean I believe in Heaven and Hell, your God, haunted houses, and the boogeyman."

He rolled his eyes, but said lightly, "You'll believe it when you see it?"

"Yes."

Booth's cell vibrated in his pocket, and he answered it on the third ring. Brennan watch his eyes transform from calm with a sense of purpose to frantic and then, angered. She shook her head, knowing that the sudden lightheartedness she had shared with Booth a minute ago wouldn't be back for a long while.

It's begun again. Another child is missing.

"Shit!" He slammed his phone shut and gritted out, "We got a problem, Bones."

"Another child?"

"No, not another kid. It's Cam, Bones. Cam."

Brennan's jaw dropped. "What? How…"

Booth fought rising panic. "Cam's missing. Her room was trashed. And guess what they found on the mirror."

"No…"

He whispered, "Up the stairs they go…"

"…to the war of evermore. Booth, what in the hell is going on?"

Booth's eyes searched hers, trying to derive an answer from the sudden chaos. He shook his head. "I don't know, Bones. I don't know."

TO BE CONTINUED

AN: Surprise! There's going to be a sequel! Thank you all, ye faithful reviewers and readers. Without you, this would have remained in my head. Mistakes are mine since most of the time I post these chapters around 3 in the morning. Damn insomnia.