A/N: So I know that when you came here, you were not expecting to find an ending. I wasn't either, honestly, but one of the best parts of writing, I think, is the surprises that you come upon along the way. Yes, this is the conclusion to In the Worst of Times. It's been a journey.

The final song that I chose to close off this adventure was not one that I originally planned on using. Not at all. So, like the chapter itself, it sneaked up on me and took control. It is called Say (All I Need) and it is by OneRepublic. The tone, not the words, are what really resonated with me here. So interpret the lyrics as you like, but I strongly suggest listening to it. This is the sort of music I wanted to let the curtains slide shut to. I will never hear this song the same way again.

Thank you, as always, for being here. For reading. I hope you will enjoy.

Epilogue: Say (All I Need)

Do you know where your heart is?
Do you think you can find it?
Or did you trade it for something
Somewhere better just to have it?
Do you know where your love is?
Do you think that you lost it?
You felt it so strong, but
Nothing's turned out how you wanted

Well, bless my soul
You're a lonely soul
Cause you won't let go
Of anything you hold

Well, all I need
Is the air I breathe
And a place to rest
My head

September 25th, 2018

She went to the morgue, to see for herself. To confirm what she had been told, and what every news station was reporting.

It had happened late, the night before, and she had only heard about it when she had awakened to her phone frantically buzzing on her nightstand. Booth, of course. He was at work, but she had the day off for a mandatory follow-up to her psychologist for final confirmation of her reinstatement. She had been back at the Jeffersonian for a few weeks, now, but she had not yet been allowed to work FBI cases. This would ensure that she was made a liaison once more, and that her partnership with Booth was renewed.

Sweets would be the one talking to them about the change in their relationship status and what effect it might have on their working status.

Booth had gone, when he had heard the news. He had gone to the prison, to check out the scene, to talk with the prison wardens and take statements. The bodies had been moved, but they would not be coming to the lab. There was no need for it—a city coroner would take on the task, and the bodies would stay in the morgue there. On the other side of town.

He went with her, when she said she needed to see for herself.

He understood, of course, as she had known he would, and he simply nodded at the request, offering a reassuring smile and a squeeze of her hand.

This was not the handiwork of Max, as she had initially feared. No, it was the work of human nature. The work of darkness itself, and the effect it had on the soul. The effect it had held over the two half-brothers, making them into what they were.

That was what had killed them.

The coroner pulled the sheet up, first on one and then the other. She nodded when they were revealed, and felt the hollowness clench in her stomach. Not closed, not full, but not empty, either. Undecided.

Kevin had done it, of course. Shank held to his brother's throat, grin on his face, stepping forward and dragging Joel with him as he challenged the guards with their guns trained on him. He was invincible. He was on the line between shadows and brightness, nearly invisible. He didn't believe there was anything that could stop him.

He had done it because he could, Sweets later remarked. Done it because there was the opportunity, and because he was always the one who believed he was at the top. The one in charge. The one calling the shots. He decided who lived and who died. And in that moment… he made up his mind.

A gash went at an angle across Joel's throat. A jagged cut, the skin pale in places and darkened in others. Kevin had a single gunshot wound to the chest.

They had died almost at the same time, the coroner told them.

She shook her head, sighed, and pulled the sheets back over them.

Brennan leaned back into Booth, and he placed an arm around her back, his hand landing on her upper arm and rubbing gently.

She didn't feel the joy that she would have expected to come with the moment. She hated them. Hated them more than anything in the world. And yet, she could not find an ounce of happiness in the cold bodies in front of her. It frustrated her.

There was relief, in small measure. Relief in knowing that they could never hurt her again.

But somehow, she knew that didn't matter. They would not have hurt her again regardless. They were in prison.

A part of her even hated them more, now. For getting off so easily. For never facing the charges, for never giving her the chance to hear guilty called out in that courtroom. She knew they were guilty. Everyone knew they were guilty.

But that closure was never coming. Not anymore.

She found nothing in the corpses. Nothing but the sad truth of knowing the deepness of human evil, and how it could still live on, regardless of the emptiness of the bodies it had inhabited.

~BxBxBxBxBxB~

"Are you okay?" Booth asked her softly, reaching out to touch a hand lightly to her arm and get her attention. She looked up from her anthropology journal with a frown already in place.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He fidgeted uncomfortably. "You've been… quieter. These past few days. Since we got the news about the brothers…"

She shrugged, and he trailed off, still watching her inquisitively. Looking for any signs hidden in her expression. She kept her face a careful mask, flipping the page in her journal and scanning it for any articles that caught her attention. There was one that must have looked promising, because she folded down the page corner into a precise dog-ear.

"Bones," he said pointedly, giving her an earnest, demanding sort of stare. She sighed and closed the journal, tossing it lightly onto the coffee table.

"I thought…" she started hesitantly, clearly not used to the concept of sharing her thoughts outright, at only the slightest urging. It was a concept she was adjusting to; one they were working on between the two of them. "I thought I would feel… differently. About their deaths. When I thought about it, before, about how much I would… like them to be dead instead of in prison, I thought I would be happier about it."

"And you aren't?" That would certainly explain the silences, and the faraway stares he had caught on her face. He would have thought she would have been glad, too. He was glad. They were good people, usually… but there was something in them that had to be happy over this small tragedy. If one could even refer to it as tragedy.

Death was supposed to always be a tragedy. It was part of the philosophy they lived off of. But these deaths? No, these deaths simply did not fall into the category.

Clearly, Bones was having other thoughts, and he wanted to understand how they fit into this jigsaw of emotions they were working through.

"No, I'm not," she said, giving a slight huff of irritation and folding her legs up underneath her. She turned her head slightly, watching his reaction. Looking for guidance on this. She wanted an explanation. She wanted reasoning, and advice, and she wanted it fixed. She wanted to feel what he felt; she wanted the relief and the loss of weight. She wanted the joy, regardless of the guilt that might tag along with it.

"It's okay, Bones," he said cautiously. "I mean… of course you wanted them dead. I wanted them dead, for… for what they did to you. And now they are, and… sometimes that doesn't make it any better. I think that someday it will, though. When you look back on it."

She nodded slowly, thinking over his words.

"I hope so," she said at last. "But… I can't help but wondering what it was all for. They were… horrible people. And now they're dead because of it. The only thing they did was hurt people. Their whole lives… it was all they ever wanted to do. I know that we see it a lot, in our line of work. I have seen it a lot. Far too often. But this time…" she shook her head. "I just don't understand."

"They were crazy," he murmured calmly. "There really isn't anything more to it. And they… never should have been able to do what they did."

She sighed and looked away. "No, they shouldn't have."

They both looked up as they heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs. Nick's head poked around the corner and he stared at them with those wide eyes of his.

"Something wrong, Nicky?" Brennan asked, leaning forward.

"Can I have a glass of water?" he asked. He was still sleepy-eyed, and it was obvious he had just awoken for some unexplained reason. She hoped it wasn't because he had heard the murmur of their voices through the walls.

"Sure, bud," Booth said, getting to his feet and smiling as he passed the boy and motioned for him to follow along to the kitchen. Brennan smiled after them, the sadness not quite gone from her eyes. There was a lot still weighing on her. Less weight, for sure, but weight nonetheless.

Seeing Booth and her son, though, always rejuvenated a part of her. Warmed her heart, and spread the hope through her veins. They were together; not just the two of them, but the three of them. Four if they counted Parker, who spent most nights with Clara in her new apartment now anyways. He had moved with Booth at Brennan's insistence, but it was clear he was ready for his own space and had just now come to that realization.

Booth returned with Nick in tow, the blue plastic cup of water clutched in his tiny hands.

"Goodnight," Brennan called. "Love you."

"'Night," Nick echoed. "Love you, too."

He looked at her as he said it, but his eyes drifted towards Booth. Undecided, but considering.

Then he scurried back up the stairs and out of sight. She listened until she heard the springs of his mattress squeak, and then she turned to Booth, who still stood by the staircase. He came back into the living room and reclaimed his space on the couch, placing a hand on top of hers.

~BxBxBxBxBxB~

It was a warm October morning, when Booth and Brennan walked through the cemetery, hand in hand, behind the procession. Lyla Wheeler was visible close to the head of the line, weaving along in her black dress.

Brennan had offered to fund the funeral, but Lyla had refused. A matter of family pride, she had said. But she had been grateful for the offer, as well. They had shared a few more coffees together, talking about other things. Trying not to focus on the sadness of their meeting, but on the prospects that it presented. The sort of things that Veronica would have wanted. The sort of things they both deserved, in the aftermath of it all.

Ghosts moved with the wind as the autumn leaves rustled around them, curving through the air and crinkling underfoot, and she couldn't help but be reminded of all the times she had been here in the past. All the murder victims she had helped find peace in their resting, all the murderers she had put behind bars for the crimes that had put these people here to begin with. There was a peace to the place, rather than a haunted-ness. The world seemed still, save for the wind, and there was a hush that had fallen as if a cloak had been draped about them to muffle the world outside of this place. Quieting the rush of the city and the urgency of the tasks and chores that were piling up back home.

Nick tagged along behind, not quite understanding of the situation, but rather trudging and kicking up the leaves every now and then. He kept a grip on Brennan's hand, his tiny fingers wrapped around only two of hers, and his head was at a constant tilted angle as he seemed to be taking in the details.

He would remember this; she was almost certain of it. It was the sort of day that would stick in a four-year-old's memory—the quiet of the adults, the unspoken rule that speaking here was forbidden, the presence of something else that was beyond him. She did not quite believe in it, and she did not plan to teach him to believe in it if he did not take an interest, but it was a feeling. A feeling of the thoughts that had been carried along this same path many times before. A weight that had been left by those before, falling from their shoulders with the grief and finally paving itself into the ground and the stones of the kingdom of the lost.

But not forgotten. No, the weight was picked up by every soul to pass through, and placed back down in their wake. It was like traveling through a tunnel and supporting each beam as it was passed. Sharing the load, holding up the world, maintaining the safety of all.

The place sent shivers down her spine, but not enough to bother her as much as it bothered Booth. She had not been aware when they had pulled her out. She had no recollection of the cemetery they had rescued her from. He, on the other hand, was tense with more than just the natural displeasure of a graveyard and the task they were here for this morning. A sad event, as always. But a reminder, as well. A dark, shadowy sort of reminder that would live with both of them. Places like this, things like this, would never be quite the same.

They gathered in a line, when they reached the opening in the ground. Brennan squeezed Booth's hand firmly. Not because she was afraid, but because they both were. This was something she remembered—from the inside. Today was not for them. Today was for Veronica Wheeler, for her family, and for all the lives touched by her death. Today, they were here because they needed to be. Not because they willing chose to face down these demons, but because it was what had to be done.

It was what they needed.

The pastor spoke, thanking the family for gathering, going through the traditional details. Brennan listened in respectful silence, glancing down every now and then at Nick, who was still at her side, pressed against her leg and slowly looking around at all the adults and at the cemetery itself.

Lyla spoke for a while, long gaps in her speech as she bowed her head and composed herself. When she finished, brushing at her eyes, she nodded to Brennan, who swallowed her nerves and gently pried Nick from her side and urged him over towards Booth before stepping forward.

She cleared her throat, once she stood facing the line of family and friends who had gathered.

"I might be here, myself," she started off, drawing courage from Booth's reassuring eyes and using it to make contact with the gazes of the others gathered before her. "If it were not for the people who ultimately saved both of us. I cannot claim to know exactly what Veronica went through, but I can say that she fought it. She loved… all of you. And she wanted to come home. And I…" she looked to Booth again, closed her eyes for a second, and then went on, "I'd like to say to… Veronica, to the universe, that I wouldn't have made it if not for her. If not for all of you, who worked so hard to find her justice during the investigation.

"I did not know her, of course, but… I think we would have had much to talk about, if we had ever gotten the opportunity. From what Lyla has told me… she was nothing but kind and generous. She was a friend, a daughter, a sister… she was everything I try to be, as best as I can. And that's thanks to all of you, who were there for her then and are there for her now. I know she… would be grateful." She started to step forward but then hesitated, meeting Lyla's moist eyes with her own, and said softly, "Thank you."

They went home afterwards, rather than out to the Diner as Nick would have no doubt preferred. Brennan baked macaroni and cheese, and Booth stayed out of her way, obviously sensing that she wanted the kitchen to herself. She was seeking some therapy in the calm of the recipe, in the joy of the memories it brought in order to overshadow those from earlier.

When she called them to the table, she felt that a warmth had rekindled itself inside of her. Her eyes were brighter, and she smiled at Booth as she sat down across from him. He smiled back, and neither of them brought up the funeral, her speech, or the silent cooking she had carried out on her own.

~BxBxBxBxBxB~

They sat on the couch beside one another, in the late hours of the night. He was reading through her latest manuscript, smiling softly at a particular paragraph, and she was surreptitiously watching him over the top of her magazine.

The day before, they had attended a funeral. They had stood down the past and walked out of that place together. She had felt the weight fall, and hers was not quite like the others that had been shed in that place, but it was fitting. It belonged there, in the darkness that came before they stepped out of the cover of the trees and into the bright sunlight of the fall day.

Halloween was looming, with pumpkins decorating the pathway and the stairs in front of their home, and Nick begging to be able to wear his costume every day. It was a joint effort between her and Angela, who was the real creative genius behind all of the children's outfits, but she enjoyed feeling involved and providing what little help she could. That, and seeing the joy on Nick's face. This was a year where it would be more prominent than before. Four was much different than three, after all.

This year, Trace was going as a robot, Kate as a ballerina, and Garrett as an alien. Nick had elected to dress up as pirate, and Angela had insisted that it would be adorable if they could match him up to the lead role in a pirate movie from a while back. Jack Sparrow, she remembered the name was. She had watched the trilogy with Booth, once, and had rather enjoyed it. There was a fourth as well, but he insisted it was not nearly as good and had instead pulled out three fresh movies with a red and blue super hero on the front and a large spider emblem. He had not been impressed when she told him she didn't recognize it.

The two of them were going in outfits of old—Brennan's traditional Wonder Woman to Booth's Clark Kent. It felt right, like they were returning one other aspect of their lives to the way it had been. Bringing themselves around and more fully onto the path that they had belonged on from the start.

At the moment, however, the holiday was still a few weeks in the distance. The middle of the month was still ahead of them, and Angela still had plenty of time to work through the details of the large party she was planning out for all of them. The mansion would be a haunted house, something that Hodgins seemed to be even more excited about than his wife.

She had to admit, the idea sounded like a great deal of fun. It would be their first family holiday. The first real celebration that she would get to go through with Booth and her son together.

She did not count tomorrow. Halloween; that was the holiday of the month. That was the one her son was excited about, and the one Booth was looking forward to as well. Tomorrow was a normal day. Tomorrow had no relevance.

And so she was not watching the clock when it ticked across the line of midnight. Booth nudged her softly, and nodded towards it to draw her attention there. She frowned a moment, having forgotten, and then he kissed her cheek softly and his nose brushed against her ear as he murmured the single line.

Another year. Another rotation. She had made it through; she had survived what she had considered to be the insurmountable. The worst of times was passed, and the light was ahead, showing her what she had been missing. She was living there, now, in the glow of its rays, and pulling everyone and everything she valued forward and into it with her.

She had changed, and she had changed the world with herself. She had altered the very fabric of her day to day, she had made it possible to fill in the end of the story with her own happy ending. She had fought for it, had fought through it, and had come out on the other end not quite sure of herself, but yet sure of her survival.

She was alive, with Booth's arm wrapped around her as the mattress upstairs squeaked with the gentle movement of her son turning over in his sleep. She was alive, with the knowledge that she had overcome, with the knowledge that she had defeated the odds. The knowledge that she had won, in the end, even when there were still shadows looming.

They could be battled. She could battle them, with Booth at her side and her team at their backs. There would always be survival, and camaraderie. They were all together, the way they were supposed to be. The idea that it had ever been different seemed so distant, so far in the past that she could almost not comprehend it, and yet it had been less than a year ago.

And also, now, in another age entirely.

She was moving on. Booth was moving on. They were in this together, every step of the way. No matter where they went, no matter what they chose, it was for them. For the future they were still building around themselves, and the future that would never be quite finished.

Because the building was half of the fun.

She was content, for the first time in her entire life. And that knowledge was more than enough. That knowledge… and the knowledge that he would never turn away. That he would always be there, that he would always know what she needed, and that she could always count on him.

"Happy Birthday, Bones."

Fin.

~BxBxBxBxBxB~

I cannot leave this story without a few closing remarks. First of all, the utmost and sincere thanks go out to my dear friend and beta, Cassie. This story would not be what it is (and in fact might not even exist) had it not been for her enthusiasm and encouragement at each step of the way. She was the one that kept me motivated above all else to get these chapters finished. Thank you, so much... and I hope you will always be around to help me through my stories.

Next, of course, come the thanks to all of you. You have shaped this story, too, with your comments and your realizations that brought me understanding of my own and transformed how I viewed the way I was writing. You gave me the courage to keep going, and the joy and pride of success at each step of the way. You have provided me with hope, and confidence, and I will take it forward with me as I go on and continue to write.

mendenbar, marple, Labrynth01, SouthunLady, IrigD, Rankor01, LondonLi, etakkate, KatBonesCrazy, LittleThingsMatter, OoopsAmObsessed, bones35, breakfastmakesmeawesome, Tartantrace, beanza3, youlaysolow, carolfd, rayrayrayray, Dewi, TheLittleSarahPee, and many more deserve my deepest gratitude for all that they have had to say over these past ten months.

Yes, it has been nearly ten months since I first posted this story. Longer ago that I first started it, but not by much. I hope that you have all enjoyed the ride-and what a roller coaster it was!-that this tale has taken all of us on. I never could have imagined how much it would grow when the idea first planted itself in my head.

Now, I'm afraid, is the time to say goodbye. But not without a little bit of hope. There are plenty more ideas where this one came from, and I am not ready to give up on this story's Booth and Brennan, or Nick and Clara and my personal version of teenage Parker. I am digging through a whirlwind of ideas for a sequel, but do not expect it soon, if at all. Right now, it is just a concept. A nice idea that makes parting with this one less painful. You can always find me, though, in my other stories, the ones that I had given leave to previously in order to finish this one in a reasonable time frame. Always All For You will return soon enough, and Hidden after that.

It has been grand, friends. Farewell for now, and do not be afraid to leave your closing remarks behind you on that long walk out the door.