AN: This is the end, beautiful friend.
Chapter Thirteen: Promises to Keep
The darkened house appeared sinister in contrast to the neighboring flashy and well-lighted hair salon, De RoXi. While loading the chambers in his gun, Booth duly noted that some of the outlandish decorated rocks had spread out to parts of Rita Realsangre's own driveway. Brennan's extreme jumps were accurate after all: and within those walls….
Click.
Booth switched the safety off. He no longer felt gnawing guilt for pulling a gun on Brennan. The ends justify the means, and the outcome of the next five minutes would determine everything Booth had left. Not bothering to scout the house for movement or traps, Booth threw open his car door and stormed across the street. Sirens sounded off in the distance, but he knew the screaming wails would be silenced as the cavalry neared the domicile, as to not alert Epps. Calling forth training from the Army, Booth ducked down and ran up to the side of the house, careful to remain on the grass and not the gravel. Glancing in the window, he saw complete darkness. Booth spotted a thin crack of yellow light creep from under a closed door, on the far left of the house. He quickly abandoned his position at the window and came around to the front door, his weapon drawn. He checked the doorknob, and was not surprised to find it locked. As he readied himself to kick the door down, he paused for a moment. A surge of memories from the crime scenes and victims enforced Booth's need to cause Epps as much pain as possible.
The first victim…found in a puddle of her own blood and paints…
Jon Leavitt cradling his wife's bound body behind an alleyway dumpster. Booth had to pull him away forcefully.
Epps sending coy messages… "How'd it feel, Agent Booth, to tear Mr. Leavitt from Mary's rigid, stinking corpse?"
Parker laughing, Parker playing, Parker's birth, Parker's funeral, his little, broken body and Booth clutching him to his chest as his partner Hodgins tried to pull him away…
CRASH!
Booth kicked the door down in a tidal wave of fury. Light spilled out into the living room as the door on the opposite end of the house also flew open, with Epps stepping out from the bedroom and holding a crowbar in surprise. Booth aimed low and pulled the trigger of the gun. A deafening crack split the air and Epps cried out in pain as a bullet pierced his leg.
"Think you're so smart, Howie?" Booth taunted. "You didn't think we'd find you? That you decided to camp out in your victims' houses? Think again, dumbass!"
Epps managed to switch the lights on in the living room. Clutching his leg and the crowbar, unfeeling brown eyes leered at Booth. Though Booth had seen Howard Epps in photos nearly a thousand times, he was struck at how normal he looked. Standing a few inches shorter than Booth with tawny blonde hair and a lean body, he could easily become another face in the crowd. Every crowd has a monster; here ya go, folks. No one would have guessed the atrocities that lay at this man's hands.
But Booth knew firsthand.
And that was Epps biggest mistake to date.
Booth fired his gun again to the wall, several inches away from Epps' head. Epps flinched and sank to the floor. Instead of cowering, he started laughing. "I believe that was a miss, Agent Booth."
Booth shut the door behind him quietly. "In about five minutes the rest of the team will be here. You're done, Howie." Booth sauntered over to Epps, suddenly calm and in control. Epps matched his attitude, though there were the beginnings of fear creeping into his eyes.
"When did you turn rogue agent?" Epps mused. He paused, and then added, "You aim to kill me before they get here."
Booth snorted. "No wonder why they called you a genius." Booth came to Epps and without warning, stomped on Epps' gunshot wound. Epps hissed and choked back a scream. He dropped the crowbar and Booth kicked it away.
"Go ahead, then, kill me!" Epps still taunted. "I die, and your little Parker magically appears and gives you a big hug and yells 'Daddy! Daddy! I'm home,' and everything's perfect again. Is that what you want?"
Booth pistol-whipped Epps on the side of the head and screamed, "Don't you ever, ever say his name again!"
Epps grunted in pain, but still threw out, "He cried and pissed his pants and screamed bloody murder for his father, but you never came! He handled the cigarette burns okay, but boy, he absolutely hated the cutting—"
Booth thought he could feel something physically snap within his brain and he launched himself unto Epps as a black mass of a fury claimed his actions. Booth was beating Epps' face and stomach as hard as he could manage, and an almost inhuman cry escaped his lips as he poured all his grief and rage into his fists. He dropped the gun in the process, but didn't care as Epps made feeble attempts to block the pounding sledgehammers.
Booth stopped and threw Epps back against the wall. "You're going to die the same way Parker did," he spoke quietly. Scarily. Booth began pulling a switchblade that was kept hidden under his pant leg. Epps took the moment of relief and shoved Booth back with a surprising amount of force. He only stumbled back a few inches, but it was all the leave way Epps needed. He threw himself onto Booth and reached for the gun that had fallen earlier. Booth saw this and flipped him onto his back and grabbed the gun from Epps' reaching grasp. Booth glanced at the clock and swore forcefully. Saroyan and Hodgins and every SWAT member on God's green earth would be at the house within two minutes, at the most.
"We're gonna cut this short, Howie," Booth panted. He raised the gun and aimed it between Epps's eyes. "He was just a kid. He was my boy, my son…" he felt tears running down his face, and he didn't care if Epps was taking satisfaction from them.
"He was just a kid…."
Booth began to pull the trigger and Epps stared hauntingly up. Suddenly, the door burst open and a single voice screamed, "Booth! NO!" He turned in shock to find Brennan, alone.
"He was just a kid…"
She could hear Booth utter those words just before she threw herself against the door. Now that she had stopped sprinting, she could feel an underlying pulling within her lungs and heart. She supposed that if she could feel pain, she would be suffering a heart attack. What she saw however, nearly did execute that thought. A crying Booth was standing over a bloodied, defeated Epps. Brennan followed Booth's shaking arm and found the gun milliseconds away from being fired.
"What are you doing here? Where are the others?" Booth demanded dazedly.
"They'll be here soon," Brennan answered as she took cautious steps toward Booth. "I ran here."
Booth's eyes rose in disbelief, but then he added, "If you told me you were Princess Diana in whatever world you came from, I suppose I'd believe that, too. You're a freak, but I say that in a non-offensive way. Now if you excuse me, I have to exterminate Hell's vomit, thank you."
Brennan threw out, "Exterminate? You mean cold-blooded murder. Exterminate sounds so much better, doesn't it?"
Booth became very still. Brennan continued to make her way toward Booth, and saw that in three more steps, she'd be at his side. It was like trying to comfort a jumper on the Empire State Building. One step at a time, one careful breath at a moment.
"You saw what he did. You fucking know it firsthand, Brennan—he tortured and killed my son!" Booth barked sharply. "I don't understand how you can stand there and try making me back down when you know damn well what I need to do to end this!" he screamed.
"So why haven't you shot him yet?" Brennan pointed out, unflinchingly. Step. "This isn't who you are, and you know it!"
"You know who I am, and some of the things that have happened to me, but that does not qualify as you knowing who I really am, and you know that!" Booth retorted.
Step.
"You kill him," Brennan motioned to the weakened Epps, who was snickering through the entire exchange, and finished, "then you'll be just like him. How would Parker feel about that? Or Hodgins—"
"I don't care! I don't care if I become worse than this scum. I don't care! What makes you think I wasn't going to eat a bullet after this anyway! I don't care about anything anymore!" Booth cried out as pain gripped his heart once again.
Brennan felt tears slip from her eyes.
Step.
"But I still do."
A low sigh escaped Booth's lips and he began to shake his head sadly. He began to pull the trigger once more. Brennan reacted immediately and threw a roundhouse punch to his jaw. I'm so sorry Booth. I have promises to keep. She caught him from falling and pulled him forward, off balance. She heard sirens at the far end of the street and knew she was running out of time. Booth heard them too, before the drivers cut the alarms. Not yet! Brennan pleaded frantically. She swept her leg under Booth's and he landed on the floor with a hard thud. As he scrambled to get up, she threw her leg onto the wrist still clutching the gun. She heard a crunch and he yelled as the bones under his skin cracked. She grabbed the gun from his hand. During the meantime, Epps had gotten to his feet and was limping toward the door.
"Epps!" she screamed.
He turned and she raised the gun.
Fear gripped Epps and he started to shout, "The hell you won't! You won't—"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
She pulled the trigger and watched with detached efficiency as Epps stumbled out the door and collapsed on the stairs. She lowered the gun and watched the blood pool from under his back and on his chest. Dropping the gun to the floor she turned from the body and breathed heavily.
It was all over.
Booth's mouth was opened in shock as he brought himself off the floor. Epps lay unmoving. Dead. The weight of her actions finally fell onto her shoulders and she felt incredibly tired. Old, even. Booth pulled her toward him with his good arm, and shook her furiously.
"Why did you do that! WHY? I was supposed…it was my burden!" he bellowed.
She whispered, "Because I do know who you are, and because I still care."
His shakes became less violent, and the realization that this whole thing really was over set in. He choked out incomprehensible words and fell to his knees. He hugged Brennan tightly, and wept openly.
And she knew at that moment, that she had kept her promise: she kept Booth off that dark path of revenge and everlasting pain and rage. He could get better now. He could be human; he could be her Booth again.
The way things were supposed to be.
That was when the pain finally started.
"My head…" she said breathlessly. She slumped to her knees, and Booth caught her, in confusion.
"What's happening…" he trailed off, caught in the sudden change. He heard voices and car doors slamming outside the house, but he ignored them. Brennan lifted her hand to her head and pulled back. Bright red blood covered her palm and fingers.
Booth laid her on the floor and cradled her relaxed body.
"Where did this come from…what happened?" he asked as he took his shirt off and pressed it to her bleeding skull.
"It hurts," she whimpered. "Can't breathe…"
Panic tightened Booth's nerves. "Okay, just hang on. Saroyan and the rest are outside…pain means you're alive, okay? Hang in there."
"I want to go home…" Brennan gripped his hand. "Why does it hurt so bad?"
Sensations intensified. She could smell the coppery blood that now matted the entire one side of her head and hair. She could feel Booth's pulse through his fingers. Then, just as fast as the pain came, the world began to fade to black.
"Tempe!"
Voices cluttered the space in her head.
"Tempe!"
She wanted to go home. Where it was a far better place than here.
Brennan!
All she heard now was Booth. What was going to happen to him?
Brennan!
It didn't matter. Epps was gone. She really had made a difference, but she wanted to stay. It couldn't end like this…
I want to go home.
Then out of the darkness, she heard his voice one last time before losing all sense of that place.
"Bones!"
"Bones! Open your eyes, I know you can hear me!"
"Jack…" someone sobbed.
"The ambulance is coming…"
Brennan felt sun on her face. She could feel her chest moving up and down in slow, yet steady beats. Even before opening her eyes, she knew Booth was there, holding her head… that was throbbing and stinging intensely.
"Bones…" she heard Booth plead. "Come on babe, don't you dare crap out on me. Not like this…"
He called me Bones.
With some difficulty, Brennan pried her eyes open. A collective sigh of relief came forth from the group hovering over her. She saw Booth whisper a quick prayer and he hugged her. Kneeling at his side was Angela; Hodgins was beside her and Dr. Saroyan was on the phone, making sure the paramedics were coming. Zach looked stunned.
"I'm back…." she whispered in shock. How did this happen? I didn't think it was possible…the more important question was this: where did I go in the beginning?
Booth, completely unaware of Brennan's confusion, answered, "We're not out of the woods yet, Bones. This is very important: you need to stay awake."
As soon as he issued the command, Brennan felt the insane urge to sleep hours and hours.
"Booth…" she said. "I don't know…" She closed her eyes again.
"Hey!" Booth barked. Her eyes snapped open. "Say it after me: I need to stay awake." He was smiling in assurance, but she could tell it was strained.
"I need to stay awake," she repeated wearily. That's when she noticed that Booth's shirt was gone; he had a beater on instead.
Almost stupidly she asked, "Where's your shirt?"
He gave her another forced smile. "Against your head. I'm trying to staunch the bleeding."
She acknowledged the pressure on the side of her head, and saw blood on the cement ground below her. Blood also stained Angela's hands. "Stay awake, Sweetie," Angela commanded gently.
"What happened?" Brennan whispered.
"One of the yahoos working on the roof dropped a hammer. It hit you in the head," Hodgins answered. "Stay conscious," he added.
"Believe me…" Brennan sighed quietly as the ambulance rolled up. "I'd rather remain here; not back there…ever again."
"Back where, Bren?" Angela asked.
Brennan would have giggled like a schoolgirl if she weren't on the verge of relapsing into unconsciousness. Instead, she answered, "Back where I was a wedding planner."
"Look at what I've got for you…"
Brennan glanced up from her hospital bed, and saw Booth in the doorway, looking much more relieved than when he was tending to her on the sidewalk hours ago. She smiled as he waved a Hershey's chocolate bar in his hand.
"I was hoping it would be a ticket out of here, but that will do."
He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. "Another inch and you would have been dead. That would have been a pisser of a headline: WORLD REKNOWN ANTHROPOLOGIST KILLED BY FALLING HAMMER. I'd have to cast my vote to the doctors and medical staff that want to keep you one night for observation. How are you feeing now?" he asked seriously.
She stared at him thoughtfully. The world where she had spent several days in felt more and more like a dream with every passing second. How was she feeling? Considering that Epps was still dead, Booth was not homicidal/suicidal, and Angela was alive…she was feeling fantastic, to say the least.
When did you get a sense of humor?
She answered finally, "Hungry."
Booth gave her the candy bar and added, "I guess that's good enough for me. Maybe not for Angela and the others when they come back again tonight, though."
"Hmm."
He looked at her thoughtfully and asked, "What was that whole bit about being a wedding planner?"
"I…" she paused uncomfortably. "I guess when I was unconscious from the initial shock of the hammer, I had a dream where I was a wedding planner and Epps was still alive…" she trailed off. I can't tell him all of it. It's too…dark. Too sad.
"Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz?" Booth asked.
Brennan nodded. "I know what that means," she smiled. "It was just a very vivid experience…dream…doppelganger…I don't know what to call it. Epps died at the end, so it was okay."
Huge understatement.
"Well, while you were off in la la land, I thought I was having a heart attack. We all heard the shout from the construction workers, but I was the first to see you get hit. Don't you ever scare me like that again," Booth breathed out.
"Right, because I willingly wanted to be hospitalized," Brennan pointed out.
Booth studied her face. "Don't scare me again. People need you here."
Brennan didn't answer him immediately. Maybe one day I could tell him all of it…there was something in all of that, and he just touched on it. Do people need me? I understand that now, that the answer is yes…so why do I still feel that people are wrong to think that? Her mind traveled back to when the accident happened. It seemed so far away thanks to the adventures her mind played out during the few minutes she had blacked out from the hammer impact. She felt so tired, so put-off by her work, the very same work in which she put every bit of her life and soul into. That feeling had since lifted, knowing what the world could be like if she and Booth didn't do what they did…but what of it came back?
"What are you thinking right now?" Booth asked gently.
"Do you…do you ever feel like you're burning out?" Brennan said bluntly.
She was surprised at how quickly he answered. "Yeah. All of us do at one point in time. Why?"
"Because that was how I was feeling earlier," Brennan admitted. "Think about it: does what we do really matter? Truly. People die. Human beings are capable of such horrors…we pick up the pieces, we don't stop these murders from happening—"
"Sometimes we do," Booth corrected her. "You know better."
"But does it matter? Who's not to say the people we saved get murdered by thieves or a drunk driver later in life?"
"Okay, Miss Cynical, I understand that, but we—"
"And so what about justice? There are others like us toiling away, hoping for some better good, but there are always murders, and there will always be grief and pain. We can't stop it Booth, we never will. What if I start burning out again?" Brennan finished. Her head started to pound again, and she closed her eyes.
Booth mulled her outburst over, and then answered carefully, "To answer the latter part of all that, it's called taking a vacation. If you feel like you're burning out, you need to walk away from it for a little. No one will hold you against it. Hell, look at Sully. The guy's the most sane of us all."
Brennan grimaced. "I'm okay now…Sully. I saw him before I got hit."
"Huh?"
"He was kissing someone else across the street. Very passionately," Brennan said coldly. I should have gone with him when he asked me, then I wouldn't have driven him away to some…bimbo."
Booth actually guffawed, and Brennan crossed her arms rigidly. "I'm glad to see you take joy out of my relationship problems."
"I'm laughing because Sully was never there. I called him earlier: it was a bitch to find him, but I let him know what happened to you. He's getting on a plane tomorrow and coming here. When you walked out Bones, you were hit right away. There was no time for you to even think you saw him across the street," Booth explained.
Brennan blinked twice. "Oh."
"Maybe that was your subconscious telling you something about your feelings toward the guy. Want to talk to a shrink?" Booth joked lightly.
Brennan sighed and said, "Call him back. Tell him I'm okay. It's not like I'm dying. I don't need to see him."
"It took me a good 3 hours to get a hold of him—"
"Please, Booth…what we had was over…I don't need to see him, okay?" Brennan asked.
"You're a pain in the ass, I hope you know that," he pointed out.
Brennan took his hand. "Thanks, Booth."
"For calling you a pain in the ass?"
"You know why."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, back to serious things." He squeezed Brennan's hand before letting go. How she had missed all of this.
"You're right about all that," he began. "The people we do save may not be saved tomorrow. There will always be evil sons of bitches out there, and even if you were a wedding planner and I was Bob Parker, there are others out there to continue to do our jobs. So what is special about us? I don't know."
Brennan turned her head. "You don't know?"
"No. What I do know is that there is a balance that we cannot change: between the murders and crime and heartache and the other half—the happy, unbroken lives. We battle against the darker side of that scale to show how the world can be. How it is supposed to be. We help keep the balance. If every one of us walked away, God help us all. The world would be so much worse. It needs all the help it can get. The world needs you here. And that's enough for me," Booth finished quietly.
"Promises to keep," Brennan murmured. For one moment, things just made sense. Even what happened in her "dream." She still had the fight in her: it was time to continue riding the wave.
"And miles to go before we sleep," Booth ended the conversation.
And that's good enough for me.
AN: If you were confused, the first chapter should help you out. Thanks for sticking with me through the erratic postings and thank you for understanding why.
I'm not burning out. I promise.