Author's Note: Well, that was weird. Sorry about Chapter Six. I had a little trouble with this chapter. Couldn't for the life of me finish it sooner, I got a bit stuck. Guess I was too distracted. Life has a way of doing that. Anyways, here's the last chapter. It's been fun, thanks for stickin' with it.

Warning: Contains Physical Assault and mentions of painful murders. Please do not read if you do not have the stomach for such.

Disclaimer: The show is not mine, nor do I lay claim to it in any way. Only this writing and the new characters are mine. For entertainment purposes only.

Chapter Seven

^Thursday- late afternoon

It had been two days since they had caught their serial killer. Two days since Caroline had found the identity that Scott Tomlinson used to attend a medical school in Texas. Two days since they had gotten the ID of the man that had attacked Brennan in her own office. However, there was still no sign of him, despite the Bolo and the manhunt Booth seemed determined to head searching the city and surrounding area for him. Airports were being watched. Highway Patrol was keeping an eye out for his car. Walter Elbert seemed to have vanished.

As a result, Booth's mood was horrible and getting fouler by the hour. It was getting to the point where it was hard to be around him, especially with her own emotions in a tangled knot she would need three days and a large ax to sort out. Those at the lab seemed to notice too. Each had tried their own methods of getting the agent to unwind. From Cam being his drinking buddy to Hodgins use of tickets to some kind of sporting event. None had been successful. Now he was pacing her office, his suit pants making odd swishing noises as he passed back and forth.

Her temper was pressing hard at its last bulwark. "Booth, will you sit down already?" She asked irritably, looking over a file she hadn't read a word of since he had walked in the door.

Booth did as she asked, but his leg began bobbing up and down in a quick rhythm that was even more annoying then his pacing.

Angrily, she threw her file on the table, reached over and stopped his leg with a firm hand. "Booth, stop." Her voice was a growl.

"Sorry, Bones, but how hard can it be for the F. B. I. to find one criminal? And an amateur one at that!"

"Apparently quite hard. You should have just left it to the police, Booth."

"I am the police."

"You're FBI. You have better things to investigate than one case of assault and the breaking and entering of a federally connected facility."

"Attempted murder, Bones. He almost killed you." Booth growled back.

"But didn't."

Agitated, Booth rose to his feet. "How can you be so cavalier about this? Don't you want him caught?"

"Of course I do, but worrying about it isn't going to help anyone. Obviously Mr. Elbert is very good at hiding. It's okay, Booth. He'll make a mistake, get himself caught eventually."

"I still don't think they should have removed the police presence from in front of your apartment building yet."

"Its been over three weeks. They can't keep a squad car outside my home indefinitely."

"They could have at least waited till they caught the guy." Booth grumbled.

Leaning back, Brennan sighed. "I don't need a police presence Booth. Besides, what if they never do?"

Booth looked at her in shock. "What?"

"What if they never catch him? Am I supposed to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder like a frightened child?" She tilted her head to the side. "I've tried to accept that we may never find him. Maybe you should too. I want him to go to jail for what he did, I do. But he has already had too much influence on my life." Without thinking about it, she rubbed her arm, right where one of her fading cuts slashed the skin.

Booth watched her, his eyes following the movement. "Do they hurt?" He asked after a moment.

Surprised, she looked at her arm, fingers pressed to the soft fabric of her shirt. "The cuts?"

He nodded. His expression almost looked frightened.

She frowned. "Not really. They itch." She sat back further. "Is that what's had you so worried? You think I'm still hurting?"

Though he didn't answer, she took his silence to mean an affirmative as he sat beside her. She leaned toward him a little. "I'm not. All right? I'm not hurting. I'm not even scared, not really. I have as much chance of being attacked again as I did to begin with. I even have you on speed dial if anything happens." She sidled even closer. "Come on. I have a session with Sweets, but after that, we could get take out together."

He chuckled. "Yeah Bones. I'd like that."

She grinned. It gave her an happy feeling to know she was the one whose method at getting Booth to unwind seemed to be succeeding.

"Do you want a ride to the Hoover building?"

"Sure."

"Why would you tell Booth you're not concerned?" Sweets asked.

"Because I'm not. Not really, at least. I don't think I am. I'm fairly confident in the ability of the police to find him and have no inclination to try and find him myself."

"Why do you think that is? Usually you seem to concentrate on "catching the bad guy". What's changed?"

Her mouth twisted at his air quotations, but then she frowned. "I don't know." She unconsciously rubbed her arm, just like before, and just like before, her companion's eyes followed the action.

"You said you aren't feeling any pain, so why do you keep doing that?" Sweets asked abruptly.

"They itch." Brennan answered defensively. Then she sighed. "I don't know, all right? I don't know any it. I hate that I don't know, but I don't."

Sweets studied her for several long minutes while she sat silently picking at the hem of her skirt. "More nightmares?"

She looked away.

"What happened this time?"

Agitated, she rubbed her forehead, then leaned forward and rested on her fist, her elbow on her knee. "I'm drinking. At the Founding Father's. He comes." She closed her eyes, almost feeling the breath on her ear. "And I can't move. I want to look at him, but I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"He's too close. He's talking to me."

"What does he say?"

Brennan leaned back in her seat and sighed. "He says the same things he said before."

"The "bone lady" and "ready for the party?" lines from your other dreams?"

She nodded.

"You said they held no specific meaning for you other than his original usage of them."

"They don't, not that I can think of at least."

"Does it bother you, that you can't move in your dream?"

"Yes." Obviously.

"Because you can't fight back?"

She shrugged. "I suppose."

"You felt powerless."

Not knowing what to say to that, Brennan remained silent.

Sweets resumed his examination of her. "Dr. Brennan, what made you go into your office?"

Her mouth dipped in a frown. "You mean when Booth dragged me inside?"

"After that. What made you come back and go in, even knowing something of what you would have to remember?"

She hesitated.

"What were you thinking before you did it?"

Her brow creased as she thought back. "Something that Booth said."

"Which was?"

Brennan fixed him with her best stare. "Dr. Temperance Brennan doesn't flinch from a fight."

"What do you think that means?"

She rolled her eyes. "Does it have to mean anything?"

He didn't comment, only waited.

She sighed again. "It... he had changed... something. I was acting different. That-That was what frightened me. Not him coming back for me because I survived. Not the the even fact that I was hurt and couldn't remember what happened. What scared me was the fact that he could make me act like anyone or anything but myself and that I hadn't even noticed. Even if I couldn't picture his face, going to my office was... like facing him. Proving that I was still... me." She tried to avoid seeing Sweets' look of sympathy.

"Dr. Brennan... did you look at the sketch Angela did that got the ID in the first place?"

After a moment of thought, she shook her head.

Immediately, Sweets got to his feet. He went to his desk behind his chair and opened a drawer, from which he then pulled a file. He glanced at her. His steps were slow as he came back to her and handed it over.

After a deep breath, Brennan opened it and looked at the picture lying inside. His eyes had the same piercing quality that she remembered. She was startled by the thick dark eyebrows. At the slant at the corners of the eyes. He looked familiar, but she supposed that was normal. A sense of familiarity was to be expected. Seeing it didn't make her feel better though, if that was indeed Sweets' intention. In fact, she felt worse. She swallowed. "Angela really is good isn't she?"

The psychologist resumed his seat. "Is that all you have to say?"

Frustrated, she snorted. "What do you want me to say? Why did you show this to me?"

"Because... Dr. Temperance Brennan doesn't flinch from a fight." Sweets said gently.

She looked down at her hands clutching the file in a death grip.

"In your dream, you are unable to move. Unable to face your tormentor. This could be a reflection of how he really made you feel. Helpless. Unable to face the danger head on, first by blitzing you from behind, then by drugging you into immobility. He robbed you of the ability to really face him, by disguising his face from you. On top of all that, you lost your memory of the attack. A part of you must have known that even remembering wouldn't give you his identity. Anyone would avoid it, heck, I would avoid it. However, that's not who you are, which Booth and Angela helped you realize. I'm simply trying to do the same."

Brennan could only think that that was a lot of assumptions to make. She didn't know what to think of the rest of it.

Sweets pointed at the sketch. "That is the face of Walter Elbert, your attacker. Use some time to really look at it. To face him and what happened head on."

A part of her was annoyed with this conversation to the extreme. Another wondered if he was correct. Was she really just avoiding the confrontation again? She avoided thinking about what happened, but that was because such an action would provide no help to her or anyone else. It wasn't rational; what was in the past was in the past. Was that the same as flinching? She gazed at the picture. He seemed like every other person in the world. Ordinary really. Maybe a little dark, but still someone you might see on the streets and wouldn't remember unless you already knew them. Only his eyes stirred memory in her head and that wasn't something she wanted to reflect on. Was that the point?

"I think that's enough for today, Dr. Brennan. You may go when you want to."

The psychologist's voice barely registered. She had the oddest sensation that she was missing something. Her hands closed the file and before she realized it, she was out of her seat and out the door, the picture lying on the table that had been between them. She hurried away, trying to put distance between herself and the stirrings of her subconscious. Making a quick path to Booth's office, where he said he would wait for her, she stopped only when she caught sight of her partner. Her lips lifted in a small smile.

The agent was asleep, leaning back in his chair with his feet up.

She chuckled.

The second Booth heard the sound he woke and blearily rubbed sleep from his face. "Bones? Hey, how'd it go this time?"

Unable to control the reflex, she winched as her frown returned.

When he caught sight of her expression, he was out of his chair and moving toward her before she could blink. "Bones, you okay?"

She sighed. "Define okay." What she really wanted to do was not talk about anything Sweets might have said to her. She had a headache and just wanted to sit down. "I need a drink. A strong one. Care to join me?"

He blinked owlishly, caught off guard. "Uh, what about food?"

"We can pick some up on the way to your place. You do have alcohol, right? Strong alcohol?"

"Um, yeah, sure. But..."

"Okay, let's go." She turned and left, not waiting for him to gather up his things and hurry after her. On the ride to his apartment after picking up the take-out, she didn't speak, though Booth tried to engage her in conversation several times. Instead, she thought about what Sweets had said. Her thoughts circled round and round each other till her headache expanded to a steady throb at her temples. Once through the door, she threw her things to the floor beside it, grabbed their strong drink and sat on the couch.

Booth stood watching her from the doorway. When she didn't open the bottle right away, he collected glasses and sat beside her. "Bones? Geez, what did the kid say to you?"

She stared fixedly at her hands. Why was she so agitated?

"You're acting like you did when Sweets told you I was worried."

Frowning, she turned toward him. He looked lost and concerned, like he had no idea what was going on. "Am I? Am I still not acting like myself?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Now I'm really confused."

"Am I not acting... like me?" Why on earth was it always so hard to articulate how she was feeling? "Am I still the same person you've always known?"

"Of course you are. Why are you asking this?"

"You said, before, that the Dr. Temperance Brennan you know doesn't flinch from a fight. Have I been flinching?"

Still looking confused, Booth turned more fully toward her. "You mean about Elbert?"

"Is it just flinching, to not want to know if he's caught or not? I care, I suppose, but... I don't want to think about him at all. Is that the same as flinching?" She looked into Booth's eyes. "I don't want to be different because I'm scared. You have to tell me because you noticed before. Is it changing how I react to things?"

He was silent for a long time, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. When he finally turned back to her, he was still thoughtful. "You're still the same person, Bones. He doesn't have power over you, if that's what has you worried about."

"You have a copy of the sketch?" She asked suddenly.

"What? Oh, yeah, I've been keeping one on me since-"

Her outstretched hand cut him off.

Hesitating only slightly, Booth drew the paper out of his pocket and handed it over.

She took the folded piece of paper and set it on the coffee table. Then she retrieved one of the glasses, filled it to the brim, and quickly down the whole thing, pulling a face as the liquor burned the back of her throat. She smoothed the wrinkles from the paper, laying it flat, and looked at it once again. As she did, she mumbled, not caring that from where Booth was sitting he would definitely be able to hear her. "I don't recognize him. His face was covered. But the eyes are the same. I remember the eyes." Memory tried to surface again and this time, she let it. Her stomach turned as she remembered how close he had gotten to her face in those moments when electricity was burning through her system, making her convulse on the floor. Those dark eyes. They had seemed familiar even then. "But he does look familiar." She tried to think of why. Dark eyes shrouded by thick dark eyebrows. Her mind shifted to her dream. The drink in her hand, his voice in her ear. His breath on her skin. The bartender offering her another drink.

She frowned. "The bartender."

"What?"

Thoughtfully she turned to her partner. "The bartender at the Founding Father's. I didn't recognize him the last time we went, but we know all the people who work there. He was new." She thought about their celebratory drinks. The bartender in the background, watching her make her toast. Realization shocked through her just as effectively as the voltage had. "He had the same eyes. Same thick dark eyebrows."

Booth frowned, then quickly pulled out his cell.

She didn't know who he was on the phone with, nor did she care. All she did was silently stand and retrieved her things from the floor. Soon, Booth was off the phone, guiding her out the front door without another word.

The Founding Father's bar was packed when they arrived. It took all their strength and commanding presence to shove their way to the bar. The bartender there was not the new one she remembered but an old regular that served them often.

He smiled to see them. "Usual?"

"Not tonight." Booth said soberly. "We're looking for a new guy who was working here three nights ago."

"Dark eyes, thick dark eyebrows."

"Only one new guy that matches that description. Manuel Solis. " The man grunted distastefully. "That guy got himself fired. Management didn't like the way he treated the customers and he was acting really weird too."

"Weird how?"

"Kept muttering to himself, started freaking out the rest of us. He also kept taking too many breaks. Would meet out the back with some guy that gave Eva the creeps." He gestured the back way.

"Seen that guy lately?"

"Not since Solis got himself fired. He stopped coming around."

"Any idea who he was?"

"Solis called him 'menino'."

"That's Portuguese. It means..." She had to think for a second. "'Boy', I think."

"How many languages do you know?" Booth asked incredulously, but returned to questioning without waiting for an answer. "You got info on this guy Solis?"

"You gotta ask management."

It took them two hours to bring in the manager and another one to get the woman to tell them anything.

Booth's phone rang and he answered it. After he hung up, he sidled close and whispered to her. "Walter Elbert was born a year before his mother moved here from England. It was three years before his mother married Douglas Elbert."

"The manager finally gave up Manuel Solis' address on record." She lifted an elegant eyebrow. "Want to go check it out?"

"Nah-uh. No way, you're staying here."

"Booth, when in our entire partnership has that ever worked?"

He glared at her.

"You really think that now that we're so close to catching up with him, I'm going to stay here while you go to catch him?"

"What part of 'Restricted Field Work' do you not understand?"

"What part of 'going with you regardless' is so hard for you to grasp?" She countered. "I'm sticking with my partner."

He growled angrily. Then he opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again. "Fine." He answered forcefully. "But when the swat team and I go in, you stay in the car, understand?"

She nodded, looking innocent.

"I mean it Bones." Booth climbed in his driver's seat. "In the car, doors shut and locked, windows up. I'm not even playing around."

"You seem very serious." She agreed.

It was a half hour drive northeast to Solis' tiny home. Swat and back up were already there when they arrived.

"We're waiting on the warrant sir." One of the officers said.

Booth turned back, velcroing a Kevlar vest around his chest. "Bones..." His tone was warning.

"Stay here, I got it Booth." She answered snidely.

"Yeah, well, just... yeah." He looked sheepish as she closed the door on his babble, but switched quickly into his leader mode, going towards the house with gun drawn.

^Booth's POV- Thursday night

Booth edged toward the door, then knocked. "Manuel Solis! FBI!" There was no answer, but the sound of breaking glass reverberated from inside. He counted down slowly with the swat leader, then kicked the door in. He was at the head of the swarm of police that stormed into the building. He spotted one shoulder disappear behind a corner and cautiously but quickly pursued it. The older man made it to another door. One shot to the man's arm felled him quickly to the floor. Solis turned with a gun in hand. A cop behind Booth shot the guy in the shoulder.

He moved forward quickly and kicked the weapon away. "Get a medic in here!" The same cop that had taken the shot put pressure on the wound. "Where is Walter Elbert?"

"Vá para o inferno!" The man spat, gasping raggedly.

Though he didn't know the language, Booth could guess what that meant. Crouched low, he nudged the door Solis had been headed for open, revealing a stairway down to a basemant. Yells caught his attention and he jumped up. Over the radio in his ear he could here the warnings.

"Sargent Orte, second floor. Perp spotted outside!"

He was outside faster than anyone could follow, catching sight of a man running away as fast as his legs could carry him. He lifted his gun and trained it on the man's back.

Suddenly, the passenger side door of his SUV shot open, colliding with Walter Elbert with a audible crunch.

Despite his worry, Booth couldn't help but wince. That just sounded painful.

"Booth, does this count as leaving the car?" Bones yelled from inside.

He laughed so hard as he bent to cuff the semi-conscious man, he could barely finish his task.

^Brennan's POV- early Friday morning

"Sweetie!" Angela yelled the second she could caught sight of them.

"Hey Ange!" Booth called cheerfully.

"Whoa, somebody's in a good mood." The artist laughed. "Finally."

Brennan smiled at her best friend but kept stride with a fast walking Booth as they headed for her office.

Angela caught up anyway and linked arms with her. "Oh my gosh, I'm so glad that crazy psychopath is finally in jail! What are we doing to celebrate?"

A chuckle shook Brennan's shoulders.

It was Booth that answered. "We are taking Bones to the lecture on micro- micro-"

She came to the floundering agents rescue. "Booth promised to take me to a lecture on Micropalaeontology entitled "Multivariate Analysis of Microfossils for use in Biostratigraphy". The process has always seemed fascinating. I wanted to go several months ago, but was waylaid by a case."

"Micropaleontology holds interest for you?"

"Of course. Micropaleontology is also a tool of Geoarchaeology used in archaeological reconstruction of human habitation sites and environments. Of which I have found myself a part many times. Besides, Booth said I could pick whatever I wanted."

Angela shared a look with Booth. "Oh yeah, I'm sure he's excited."

"Doubtful. Booth usually finds these sorts of things very boring. However, I believe he would enjoy something more lively later tonight of you want."

"Sounds great. I'll let Cam and Hodgins know. Somebody should call Sweets too."

The artist headed off as the duo entered Brennan's office.

"Okay Bones, grab that..." Booth trailed off, seeing Brennan frozen just inside the door. "Bones? You okay?"

She hesitated and when she finally spoke, her voice conveyed her surprise. "That's the first time I've walked in here without needing to force myself since..." She gestured vaguely. "No need for deep breaths or preparing myself."

Booth blinked, obviously still a little confused. "Is that a good thing?"

She laughed. "Yes. A very good thing. Hurry, let's go before we're late."