A/N: I know, I know. It's been a very very long time since the last chapter. Here's the truth: I went out of town. Here's the other truth: I wasn't totally happy with the way the last chapter turned out, and I wasn't sure how to start this chapter, so I waited. But now I'm pretty happy with this one. Anyway, this is the seventh and final chapter of this story. Thanks to everyone who has put in enough time to read the whole thing. I hope you had half as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Please, please, please-I'm-begging-you-yes-you review and make my day. After this story is done, I'm hoping to write more about my favorite mystery-solving couple, so be on the lookout for that as well. [Disclaimer: I don't anything. Not even apple pie.]

Chapter 7: Easy as Pie

"Cam!" Angela squealed, hurrying towards the autopsy table. "You wouldn't believe how much I missed you!"

"Angela!" Cam replied, looking up from the corpse of their latest victim. "I missed you too. You have no idea how hard it is to find a decent artist who also knows how to handle a computer."

"Aw Cam. You've been here training our subs all year," Angela leaned towards her, coming in for a friendly hug.

"You really don't want to hug me," Cam said, holding up her hands in defense. "I'm covered in bits of victim right now."

"Oh, right," Angela replied, stepping back hastily. "I've almost forgotten what it's like to work with all this mess." She gestured at the decaying flesh on the table.

"Are you ready to get back to work right now? Or do you need some time to settle in?" Cam asked.

"I can help out right away if you need me," Angela answered, looking down at the mangled body. "You need an ID?"

"No, we've already identified him," Cam clarified. "I was wondering if you could help Clark reverse engineer the bullets from some of these wounds. Maybe we can figure out what kind of gun the killer used."

"Absolutely," Angela replied excitedly. "As much as I loved painting in Paris, I'm glad to be getting the team back together."

"Alright. I'm about ready to remove the flesh, then it's Dr. Brennan's turn." Cam said, as she pulled off her gloves. "Where's Hodgins?" she asked, suddenly noticing his absence.

"Booth got to him first," Angela said, smiling. "Something about an alley full of trash and an overturned dumpster." She rolled her eyes.

"Men!" Cam agreed, sighing. The two laughed.

Booth and Bones waited in his office, sipping their coffee.

"All we know so far is that Houston was at the bar the night he died, then he got picked up by the cops," Booth said, staring into his cup.

"We also know that he was shot six times in the chest with a forty-five caliber weapon," Bones added.

"Hopefully we'll know more once we talk to the cops who arrested him that night." Booth leaned back in his chair, turning the poker chip around in his hand. He pocketed the trinket as a man in uniform appeared in the doorway.

"Agent Booth?" the man asked. "I'm Officer Patrick Starnes." He walked into the office, followed by a woman who wore the same uniform.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth," he greeted them, shaking both their hands. "This is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan," he smiled as he glanced at her.

"My partner, Ana Fernandez," Starnes explained, indicating the woman behind him. She was obviously Hispanic, with tanned skin and shiny black hair, pulled out of her way in a knot at the back of her neck. Booth would probably have thought she was pretty, except that the only woman who ever filled his eyes was sitting right there beside her. Booth did notice, though, the way the other woman's partner stood protectively in front of her.

"We just wanted to know what you could tell us about a guy named James Houston," Booth began, sitting behind his desk and casually flipping open the folder.

"Sure, I remember him. Picked him up a couple of weeks ago. He fit a description our precinct put out for a lineup," Starnes answered.

"What was the lineup for?" Booth asked. Bones glanced between the two men; the two law enforcement professionals. She wondered what information Booth thought he could possibly glean from this line of questioning.

Booth knew he was on the right track when he saw how Starnes' eyes flashed uncomfortably towards the other officer. She answered instead of him.

"We were looking for a guy involved in an incident about a month ago." She looked into Booth's eyes for reassurance, and apparently found it. "I was shot, by a man matching his description." Booth noticed that her hand crept to a spot on her side. He guessed that was where the wound was.

"Did you ever find your man?" Booth asked. "Did he turn up in the lineup?"

"No," the woman answered, looking down at her lap. "I didn't see him."

"I'm sorry," Booth said sincerely, trying to find her eyes. Instead, his eyes landed on Starnes' hand, which had clasped around Ana's.

"Do you need anything else?" Starnes asked, standing up.

"No, but thanks for your help," Booth said. Brennan was puzzled; she had not learned anything particularly useful from this interview.

Starnes pulled his partner to her feet gently, and then headed towards the door. She paused, glancing back at Booth's desk briefly.

"Listen, I'll meet you at the car in a few minutes, ok?" Ana told her partner in a low voice. He raised his eyebrows at her in confusion.

"Just go. I can take care of myself," she whispered. He nodded, then exited the office.

Ana turned back to face Booth and Brennan. "May I see that picture?" she asked politely, pointing at the photograph on the desk. Booth handed it to her. Brennan looked like she was about to speak, but Booth gave her a look and she changed her mind. Ana examined the picture for a long time. At last she closed her eyes slowly, setting the photo back on the desk carefully.

"That's him. The one who shot me," she said, pausing to take a deep breath. "But he wasn't in the lineup."

"Are you certain? Your memory may be impaired by shock, pain, or emotional stress," Brennan cautioned. Booth gave her a look of warning.

"I'm sure," Ana replied. "It's him."

"Thank you," Booth said sincerely as Ana turned and left the room.

"See Bones," Booth began, looking excitedly at his partner. "Now we know something."

"Alright Squints," Booth called, strolling into the lab with his hand on the small of Bones' back. "What have you got for me?"

"We know what kind of gun was used," Angela called in reply, walking out of her office with the report. Hodgins followed behind her.

"Great!" Cam exclaimed, climbing down the steps from the forensic platform.

"What kind of weapon was used, Ange?" Brennan asked, taking the report from her hands, scanning it quickly.

"The same kind that Booth carries. And the same kind that security guard over there carries," Angela explained, pointing at the man by the door to the lab.

"Standard, the same type of weapon issued by law enforcement," Cam noted, reading over Brennan's shoulder.

"I'm going to call conspiracy on this one," Hodgins added.

"Of course you are," Cam muttered, rolling her eyes.

"There must be hundreds of people in this city who carry weapons like this," Brennan said, discouraged.

"Ah, but I know of one with motive," Booth declared. "Come on Bones." He grabbed her hand and pulling her towards the sliding glass doors.

"You recognize this man?" Booth asked, sliding the photo of James Houston across the table to Officer Starnes.

"Yes, he's the man I arrested two weeks ago," Starnes replied warily.

"Well, your partner recognized him too," Booth added. "As the man who shot her and got away with it."

"Apparently he never arrived at the police lineup," Brennan continued.

Starnes made no reply, but stared at the shining interrogation room table.

"I get it," Booth said. "Guys like us, we do anything to protect our partners." Starnes still did not speak.

"We can prove that you killed him," Bones said calmly. "We can forensically link his wounds to your firearm."

"She was pregnant," Starnes said in a low voice, looking to Booth's eyes for sympathy. "He didn't just shoot my partner. He killed my child." His dark eyes were watering, but the fires of rage shone through his tears.

"Anthropologically speaking, vigilante justice has been glorified in our culture throughout history, perpetuated by stories of cowboys and other mythical figures," Brennan explained to Booth over her cup of coffee at the Royal Diner.

"He did it for his partner and his kid, Bones," Booth corrected gently. "I can understand that." The intensity in his gaze surprised her when her eyes met his, which were now a color very similar to the coffee in her mug.

"But Booth, you know better than to kill someone for hurting me," Bones said, breaking eye contact when she began to feel uncomfortable.

"Do I?" he asked softly. He reached across the table to trace her cheek with his finger gently. She blushed, and he smiled as the adorable pinkness spread.

"You should," she said. "We would catch you." She smiled back without thinking. Although she knew that the dimple in his smile was merely a minor defect in facial musculature, she found it illogically appealing.

"You wouldn't turn me in, Bones," he replied. His eyes twinkled at her.

"This is why law enforcement organizations generally discourage partners from sexual involvement," Brennan noted, taking a sip of coffee.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Booth asked, seriousness taking over his features.

"Never," Bones responded simply, her steely blue eyes shining into his.

"Good," Booth replied, looking away as her intense gaze overpowered him. He returned his attention to the warm slice of apple pie on the plate in front of him.

"Wow," he exclaimed, through a large bite. He swallowed quickly. "The pie is even better than I remember!"

"May I try a bite?" Bones asked politely.

Booth dropped his fork in surprise. Brennan raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Help yourself, Bones," he said, pushing the plate towards her. He watched her face carefully as she ate a dainty forkful.

"You're right, Booth," she said after chewing slowly and swallowing delicately. "The pie is good." She smiled at him again. They both laughed.