I am truly, deeply, and completely sorry for the delay in this update. I feel completely terrible, but I've started something called the International Baccalaureate program this year in school, and I average about 10 to 11 of homework every night. Which, unfortunately, does not leave me a lot of time for writing. I've finally found the time to write, however (Christmas break really is a marvelous thing), and so the second to last chapter is FINALLY here. I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
A/N: I unfortunately, still can claim no rights to the television show.
When Booth and Brennan arrived at McPherson's apartment the next morning, the door stood ajar. Booth took his gun out of its holster, and noted that his partner had produced her own firearm. "Stay behind me," Booth said quietly. "I don't need you getting killed, alright?"
"I'm a perfectly good shot," Brennan retorted angrily. "I've never hit anything that I didn't mean to –"
"So you wanted to shoot me in the leg last Halloween?" He whispered back, and then seeing that she was getting ready to launch into what would be, no doubt, a perfectly worded return argument, said "Never mind. Just come on."
Brennan sighed, but nonetheless did as she was told. They worked their way through the apartment, noticing the havoc that had been wreaked in every room. In the living room, a lamp had been overturned, the light bulb shattered on the ground; desk drawers stood open, papers and other objects sprouting out of them; a bookshelf had books torn off of it, laying haphazardly on the ground; and the sofas had been ripped apart, the cushions flung across the room. It looked as though an intense struggle had taken place, and then someone had torn the place apart looking for something. The bedroom was no better – the dresser drawers hung loosely out, the clothes and other articles of clothing ripped from their drawers; the closest stood almost empty.
Brennan moved back out into the main room of the apartment, surveying the damage, while Booth continued to search the rest of the apartment for McPherson. "It's clear!" Booth yelled out to her. Brennan put her gun away, and moved toward a side door that she had not noticed the first time the partners had moved through. She turned the knob, flipped on the light, and gasped. Pictures of little boys covered the walls, all under the age of twelve. A computer sat on at the far end of the room, the internet open to a web page for pedophiles. "Booth!" Temperance called out. "You should see this!"
Her partner came walking back to her, his question of what was so important dying on his lips as he saw what his partner was talking about. He moved past her, further into the room, a look of pure disgust on his face. "This must be why we didn't find a trail of boys behind McPherson," Booth murmured.
"What?" Brennan questioned in confusion.
"We knew that McPherson had molested Barry, Jimmy, and probably Steven too, but couldn't figure out why there wasn't a trail of victims following McPherson wherever he went, but this is why," Booth stated, gesturing at the walls. "He was keeping himself happy," he grimaced at the term, "with pictures. Probably because he didn't want to get into the same trouble he had with Barry. Live victims always cause problems when they stop being compliant."
"Ain't that the truth?" Brennan let out a small shriek, and Booth whirled around to see McPherson holding his partner at knife point. The FBI agent had his gun out immediately and pointing at McPherson's head.
"Drop the knife, McPherson," Booth said fiercely, "and let my partner go."
"Ah, but I really can't do that, can I?" The suspect said lazily. Brennan was struggling against his grasp, but McPherson just pushed the knife further into her throat, until blood started to drip from the wound. "Stay still, you stupid girl. Always causing problems, just like when you lived in my house."
"Drop the knife, McPherson, and we can all leave here peacefully." Booth repeated.
"Now, I just can't believe that. See, the way I look at things, you've pretty much got me caught. I'm sure that by now you've pieced together that I have a certain…weakness, we'll say, and that Barry…well, he just helped me with that weakness."
"You molested him," Brennan hissed angrily, "and Jimmy. You're a monster, and you killed Barry because he finally gathered the courage to tell Mary what you were doing to him."
Phil McPherson narrowed his eyes, and pushed the knife a little farther into Brennan's throat. Booth wanted to do nothing more than shoot him, but every time he moved to get a better shot, Phil moved with him; and with the way the suspect was holding his partner, he couldn't shoot him without shooting Bones too. "So you know why I did it too; you're smarter than I originally gave you credit for. But you're right – I couldn't let Barry tell Mary about what I been doing. Jail just wasn't for me. I killed him, and buried his body out back. I even forged the note, which worked out perfectly, because everyone thought that he was just another runaway. No one ever thought that he was dead, but eventually I realized that I couldn't stay there, not with Mary picking fights all the time. I didn't really think she suspected anything, but I couldn't take the chance. So I dug the kid's body up, and took him with me. Didn't stay in Seattle long enough to rebury him, and so when I starting living in that dump in Arlington, I put him back in the ground. Thought no one would ever find him, and I'd be golden."
Booth advanced towards the criminal, his gun held high. "Just drop the knife. You confessed, so the DA will cut you some sort of deal."
But Phil continued as if he hadn't heard Booth. "When the family took back the house and I moved here, I kept myself occupied, we'll say, with the pictures and the internet. As you said, Mr. FBI Guy, pictures are so much easier than real boys; not so many variables." He gave a quiet laugh, and Brennan could feel the knife pinch her flesh, blood now flowing freely down her neck. "Never thought anyone would figure it out," he murmured quietly. "But now we find ourselves at a stalemate. I have no desire to go to jail, but you sure as hell ain't going to let me leave here." McPherson backed Brennan and himself up to the open door. "Now, I've cleared everything I need to with my landlord, and so there won't be anybody looking for me. My bags are in my car, and I think I'll just take my leave now." With that, he pushed the knife far enough into Brennan's throat to barely knick the jugular, threw her to the ground, and started for the door.
Booth paused unsure of what to do. His first instinct was to rush to Brennan's side, but he also knew that if he did, McPherson would flee and most likely be gone forever – he had managed to stay underground and control his impulses for over fifteen years, and there was little doubt that he could do so again. Brennan made his decision for him though. "Go, Booth." She said quietly. "I'm fine."
With one more glance at his partner and the blood, Booth rushed out the door behind McPherson. "Freeze, McPherson!" He yelled, gun raised. Phillip turned around, knife still in hand.
"I told you I can't do that." He started to bring his arm back in preparation, Booth knew, to throw the knife in his direction. Unwilling to let him do it, Booth let off one shot that hit McPherson in the shoulder. The killer dropped to the ground, both hands now over his bleeding shoulder. "You son of a bitch," McPherson growled. "You shot me." Booth just shrugged, and pulled out his handcuffs. He hauled the suspect into a sitting position, cuffed him, and pulled him back to the apartment. After making sure McPherson wasn't going anywhere, he pulled open his phone, and dialed Charlie's number.
"I need a bus at McPherson's apartment." After getting assurance that an ambulance was coming, Booth hung up and rushed back to his partner's side. "Just hang on, Bones."
Brennan rolled her eyes, and simply continued applying pressure to her wound. "I'm fine, Booth, really. Just a little light headed." Seeing his look of disbelief, she added, "I've lost more blood before."
Booth just sighed, and placed a quick kiss to his partner's forehead, and then to her lips. "For some reason, I don't find that very comforting."
After the ambulance had taken McPherson away to the hospital, and EMTs patched Temperance up the partners drove back to the Jeffersonian to finish their paperwork together. Angela spent plenty of time fussing over her friend, Hodgins simply gave her a hug and asked how she was doing, and Cam merely noted the not-so-subtle kisses Booth would place on the top of Brennan's head.
"What does this mean for McPherson?" Angela asked later, as the group sat on the upstairs balcony of the Jeffersonian drinking coffee.
"Well, he'll be charged with murder and aggravated assault. With the confession and the evidence that we have, he'll go away for life," Booth replied quietly.
"That's good."
There was silence for a moment or two, until Brennan put her mug down and stood up. "I'm going back to work; there's a body from storage that needs to be looked at." After her abrupt departure, Angela shot Booth a look, clearly saying, Something's up. Who should check on her?
"I'll go," Booth said. He walked down to her office and found her sitting on her couch, quietly crying.
"Bones," he said from the doorway, "what's wrong?" When he received no answer, he proceeded to sit down and hug her. "Talk to me. Don't put your walls back up."
"It's ridiculous that it's affecting me in this way, but I…" She wiped her eyes, and scooted closer to Booth, her partner in work and – as she knew now – in life. "It's just not fair. None of this makes any difference."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing changes," she lamented. "Barry, Jimmy, Steven, even Mary – all of their lives were irreparably damaged because of this man! Barry, he was murdered because he was going to stand up for himself; Jimmy felt the need to disappear and become someone else because he was so scared of Philip McPherson and what he could do; no one knows how it really affected Steven, but it had to because no one goes through being molested without some devastating affects; and Mary lost her husband because he was a monster! Even I, of all people, could see the sadness in her eyes." She sighed. "And Philip McPherson going to jail for the rest of his life doesn't solve anything! Barry's still dead, Jimmy is still different, and Mary is still sad. Out of anybody, he's getting off the easiest, and it's just not fair." A few more tears rolled down her cheek, and Booth wiped them away. Then, kissing her gently, he spoke.
"Catching the bad guy never does change anything, you know that Temperance. We never are able to bring the victims back to life. But regardless of that, McPherson going to jail helps. Now Mary knows that she didn't drive her husband away, and she knows what happened to Barry wasn't her fault. She can stop blaming herself and start to heal and move on. That helps. Jimmy can stop living in fear and start to move on as well because his secret is finally out. That helps. And wherever he is, Barry knows that you got him justice. Nothing can ever change what happened, but knowing that the killed got what he deserves helps. That's all we can do."
Temperance nodded, and looked up at Booth. "You're a good man, Seeley. I'm grateful to have you in my life." She kissed him, long and hard. "And I'm grateful that you always will be."
The next chapter will be the epilogue. Please review to let me know what you think!
Charlotte
