Author's Note: This story was on this site many years ago, and was somewhat well known at the time. I am modifying it somewhat as I repost, so hoping to post around 5 chapters a week.
It begins in the fifth season, just before the events of the 100th episode. It follows canon up until that point, veering off before the events of 100. This is inspired by the film "Taken", but takes its own route. It is an exploration of just how far Booth would go to protect Brennan.
All of my previous author's notes have been removed, so this is your one warning - there are HEAVY adult themes including Brennan in peril from human trafficking/sex trafficking, violence, extremely uncomfortable interactions between the characters including a simulated sexual assault, violence, language, references to rape (though no actual rape), and more angst than you can shake a stick at. If any of those things offend you, stop now.
However, if you're looking for a story where Booth is unswervingly devoted to Brennan, would do anything for her, and wouldn't blink at killing for her…then this may be for you.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, unfortunately, nor any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them for a little while for fun's sake, and not making one single penny off of it.
Chapter 1
Special Agent Seeley Booth had grown rather used to his partner's cell phone ringing all the time. More often than not it was Cam with a case update, or possibly Hodgins or Angela calling to inform her of their latest discovery on the 'skeleton of the week'. Occasionally the caller would be her father or brother, calling to check in on her.
There had, of course, been brief periods during their partnership when she had been dating, or as she liked to phrase it, "spending mutually beneficial time with a male for the purpose of satisfying her biological urges" - and God, how he hated that phrase, for reasons he didn't want to examine too closely. During those periods of time, he would come to dread and hate the sound of her phone ringing. If there was anything worse than listening to the way she cheapened love and human relationships into something so cheap and scientific, it was having to sit there and listen to her end of the conversation while she sat in the passenger seat of HIS vehicle making those sordid plans with some guy. The only thing possibly even worse than that was trying to convince himself that his sense of morality was the only reason it bothered him so much. Spending so much time with her, it wasn't really healthy for his sanity to focus on the fact that it wasn't the phrase 'some guy' that bothered him so much; it was the word he barely dared to think aloud, 'some other guy.'
On this particular day, however, she was not seeing anyone that he was aware of. Therefore, the ringing of her phone passed almost unnoticed by him as he drove the two of them back towards the Jeffersonian from their latest crime scene so that she could retrieve her car. Many times during the following weeks, however, he would consider the fact that had he known what this particular call would bring, he would have grabbed the phone from her hand and thrown it out the window, right over the bridge and into the river.
"Brennan," she answered, in her standard greeting. "Yes? Really? Yes, I would be very interested."
At this, Booth's ears perked up, though he was still not sensing any cause for alarm. Several moments passed in silence as his partner was listening, while Booth's curiosity continued to grow.
"Yes, it sounds fascinating. Please text Dr. Benjamin's information to my phone. I will want to contact him immediately and make arrangements. Thank you, Cam."
As she pressed the button to end her call, Brennan turned in her seat to face him with a look of excitement that he recognized. It was not a look that he saw very often, and inevitably it came in conjunction with mummies or discoveries of ancient Chinese bones and the like.
Booth once again felt the twinge he had felt not so long ago on a plane to China, when he had worried that her fascination and commitment to working cases with him was beginning to pale in comparison to "her first love," ancient remains. It bothered him more than he cared to admit, especially considering that this train of thought almost always derailed with the realization that it must make him a selfish jerk to want to pull her away from something she so obviously loved.
Her excitement was evident in her tone as she began to speak to him. "That was Cam. She received a call from…"
"So where are you going?" he asked, resisting the urge to cringe at how abrupt and just how much like a jealous boyfriend he sounded.
Confusion registered in her face for a split second before she answered him. "Albania. But how did you know I was going somewhere?"
The corner of his lip jerked upwards despite himself in a slight, wry smile. "I know you, Bones. Remember? Daffodil, daisy, Jupiter?" As she continued to study him for a moment longer, he sighed. "You just had that look you get in your eye when somebody on the other side of the planet has unearthed some dusty old bones that none of the other experts have quite been able to put a finger on."
He had been sure that his rather inelegant explanation would suffice, but he should have known better.
"The discovering archaeologists have already recovered and presumably handled the remains during their initial examination, Booth; so their fingers have certainly touched them, albeit with gloves on. It is the identification that they have requested my help with."
Once again, Booth sighed. "It's an expression, Bones. I didn't mean literally put a finger on. I meant - you know what? Never mind. How long will you be gone?"
The excitement returned to her tone once again as she explained further. "Well, a burial site was uncovered in Albania, containing several sets of remains. The archaeologists who made the find are convinced that the remains are those of warriors from the ancient Illyrian tribes. But because no Illyrian remains have ever been located in the area of the find - and also because of the presence of certain artifacts - a conflict over the identification has arisen between the finding team and the team brought in to authenticate."
Booth nodded slowly. "So," he asked, "they're calling you in to confirm or deny the identification."
His partner rewarded him with a smile. "Exactly. The remains were discovered close to the border of Greece. The issue at hand is what government will ultimately maintain possession of the remains. Relations between Greece and Albania are currently stable, but as recently as the early 90s that wasn't necessarily true. It is absolutely essential to have authentication of the find by an unbiased third party so that this issue can be solved diplomatically. NATO is involved in a peacekeeping capacity because of the political undercurrents, and Cam is supposed to be texting me the number of my contact there who will arrange my itinerary."
Booth was still nodding and had understood the general idea, but he was focused on only a few certain words she had said. The words 'conflict', 'political undercurrents', and 'peacekeeping' were among the words that had instantly set off alarm bells in his still very military brain. Those same alarm bells assured him that any conversation in which he voiced these concerns was not going to go well for him. But for reasons he couldn't have explained if he tried, he had a very, very bad feeling about this trip.
He cleared his throat, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and mentally preparing himself for the backlash that was sure to come. He had opened his mouth and drawn in a breath before he was literally saved by the bell - her phone notifying her that Cam had sent the information she was waiting for.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as she scanned what Cam had sent her. She had begun punching the number of her contact into her phone when she was stopped suddenly by Booth's hand reaching out, closing over hers with the phone in it.
His action had the desired effect of temporarily stopping her dialing, and it also gained him her full attention. Her head snapped towards him as she asked, "Booth, what are you doing?"
She wasn't angry, merely curious; but Booth hesitated for a second before letting her go and turning his eyes back to the road. Her blue eyes remained focused on him, eyebrows slightly raised in question. It never ceased to amaze him that in his life he had faced war, torture, bullets, explosions, kidnappings, and many other things he would just as soon forget; but it was her who could stop him short with one look. He'd jumped in front of a bullet for her before, and would do it again tomorrow if she needed it. Not much scared him. But sometimes just talking to her was one of the most nerve-wracking things he could imagine. And this was going to be one of those discussions.
"Bones, maybe you should just take a second to think about this. It sounds like this could get pretty ugly. You don't need to get caught up in the middle of an international conflict."
If he had really, really thought about it, he could have predicted her next words and mouthed them right along with her. "I can take care of myself, Booth."
He wanted to roll his eyes, but just shot her a look instead. "Oh really? Against an army? Mercenaries? An assassin, when your conclusion is inevitably an answer that one side doesn't want to hear?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. My only role will be as an independent third party contracted by NATO to make a simple authentication, and then I will be returning."
As much as he didn't want to fight with her, Booth knew without question that he was going to press this issue. He didn't know why; he only knew that every hair on the back of his neck was standing up, and that the more they discussed it the more his sixth sense screamed at him that something terrible was going to happen if she got on that plane. But since it wasn't likely that she believed in premonition any more than she believed in love or magic, he had to find a rational reason if he had any hope of stopping her.
"Bones, you've already decided to go without talking to anybody. All you have is a relayed message from Cam. You haven't done any research on the current political climate, and you haven't asked any questions about what type of security detail you would have. All I'm saying is that I think you should ask some questions before you jump headfirst into this." The tension he was concealing with his relatively calm voice finally betrayed him when he threw in his last three words, emphasizing his point with a smack of his palm on the steering wheel that contained just a bit more force than really necessary to get his point across - "Just be reasonable."
She gave him a terse nod as she looked away to continue dialing her phone. As he noticed the set in her jaw, he realized with a sinking feeling that he was wasting his breath. Her mind was made up. "Fine," she snapped at him. "I will contact Dr. Benjamin right now and obtain answers to all of your questions."
As he drove, Booth listened to her end of the conversation, hearing her ask all the right questions but hearing none of the answers. From what little he could hear and what he could read from the notes she was scribbling down, he was able to find out the date of her departure, the airline she would be traveling, the city where she would be staying, and a few other tidbits of information that he locked away in his brain in case he would need them. He desperately hoped he wouldn't need them; but if she refused to be reasonable about her safety, it was a foregone conclusion in his mind that he was going to do it for her - whether she liked it or not.
When he pulled up to her car to drop her off, she was still deep in conversation with this Dr. Benjamin. She barely acknowledged Booth's presence with a distracted wave before climbing from his vehicle. He sat and watched as she got in her car and began to drive away, before following her out of the parking lot and heading toward his own apartment. Two days. Just two days until she would get on a plane carrying her away from him and into God knew what - again. Two days to come up with some sort of plan to convince her to stay in touch with him enough to at least be sure she was alive and unharmed. Two days, although he didn't realize it, until the beginning of a nightmare worse than he could have ever imagined.
ooo . ooo . ooo
In the end, it wasn't especially difficult for Booth to convince Brennan to keep in touch with him while away on her trip. He had simply taken the direct route - promising with a smirk on his face that if she failed to return any of his calls within 3 hours even one single time, he would be on a plane before she could say, "Anthropologically speaking." And then he hadn't backed down. He had also promised to be especially overprotective and annoyingly alpha-male upon his arrival, should she forget to keep in touch with him and thereby summon him.
It had done the trick. Dr. Temperance Brennan might be an extremely stubborn woman, but she was also brilliant. She didn't have the greatest knack for reading people, including Booth at times, but even she could see he was completely serious. She reluctantly agreed, as though she had a choice, even allowing him to extract a promise from her that she would call him daily.
A mere two days after the initial phone call that had set things into motion, Booth was dropping her off at the airport. Thanks to the Monday from hell combined with bad traffic, they were somewhat pushed for time and had only a quick moment to say their goodbyes.
"Bones, remember," he began, just as they arrived at the security gate, "you call me at least one time every 24 hours. I'll be calling you occasionally, and I expect a call back within 3 hours. I really hate long flights in coach, so don't forget."
Rolling her eyes at him, she turned to face him. "Booth, this is completely unnecessary. I have been assured of adequate security, and there's no danger. Rationally speaking, I have been to far more dangerous locations."
He just looked at her for a few seconds in response until she finally gave in and sighed. "Fine. I'll call you when I land."
That earned her a charm smile as he took a step backward, flipping his poker chip into the air. "Bye, Bones. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
She seemed honestly confused. "Like what?"
Booth just continued grinning at her, so she finally smiled back as she said, "Okay Booth. See you in a few days."
Brennan turned to begin making her way through security. He had been backing away and they had already said their goodbyes, so she was very surprised to feel his hand on her shoulder, turning her around and pulling her into a fierce hug. She was unable to stop her momentum as he swung her around, causing her to crash hard into his chest. His arms wrapped around her more tightly than he had ever held her as he spoke close to her ear. "Hey…be careful, Bones. Please just…be careful. You call me if anything happens, do you understand?"
Perplexed by his sudden change of manner and slightly breathless from the sudden impact into his chest, she could only nod her head in response as she slowly pulled back away from him and turned to head through the security gate.
Booth watched her go, as a feeling he couldn't quite identify gnawed on his insides. Though he couldn't quite place it, it had a thick undertone of fear. Everything in his gut had been screaming at him not to let her walk onto that plane, but he still wasn't sure exactly what had prompted him to grab her like that. 'What the hell,' he thought. 'It was a guy hug. Hey, I promised I'd hug her if I got scared. Well I'm scared, dammit."
As he walked back to his car and drove to work, he still couldn't quite shake that gnawing feeling that something very, very bad was coming.
ooo . ooo . ooo
Somewhere over the middle of the ocean, Temperance Brennan's thoughts were still fixated on her partner. She had reams of documentation she should be reading to familiarize herself with the task she was on her way to carry out, yet she could not get Booth's strange behavior off of her mind.
This was not, by any means, the first time such thoughts had plagued her. As their partnership had evolved over the past four years, she had gone from hating his arrogance, to admiring his special brand of expertise in his field, to thinking he was a good man, to admiring him, and finally to feeling deep friendship for him, at the very least.
It was his stubborn commitment to her personal safety - and her reaction to it - that puzzled her the most. Everything in her hated to need someone, to rely on someone, and yet it seemed to happen more and more frequently with Booth. Perhaps even more surprising was her own reaction to it. Somewhere along the way, she realized, she had stopped resenting his protectiveness so fiercely. She could surely take care of herself. There was no question about it, and she realized that he knew it too. Why then, she pondered, did he go to such great lengths to be protective of her? And why, she wondered, had she truly come to expect and even be grateful for it?
With all the self-discipline she could muster, she wrenched her thoughts away from Booth - Booth, with his impressively strong arms that had so recently and unexpectedly been wrapped around her, and his even more impressive bone structure and distracting masculine scent - and turned her attention by force to the papers in her lap and the bones she was supposed to be focusing on.
ooo . ooo . ooo
Hours later, Booth grabbed his phone on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Booth, it's me. I've landed and cleared customs. I'm on my way to meet the representative Dr. Benjamin has sent to greet me."
Although the purpose of having her call had been to set his mind at ease, knowing that she was now on the ground getting ready to walk into an international powder keg did nothing to calm his nerves. If anything, the tight glove of fear that had been wrapped around his heart for two days squeezed a little bit tighter.
"Okay, Bones. Thanks for calling. Now you've just gotta call me back every 12 hours so I don't have to hop a plane to Albania."
He could almost hear the smile in her voice, in response to his intentionally joking tone.
"24, Booth. I have service here in the airport and I can call from my room, but I have no way of knowing that I would even be able to call you every 12 hours. We agreed to every 24 hours, not 12. So it's 24, Booth. I'm hanging up."
Despite all he was feeling, an answering smile lit up his voice as he responded, "Not the way I remember it, Bones - 12 hours. Tick, tock." With that, he pressed the button to end the call, effectively silencing any protest and ending her chance to hang up on him.
But after disconnecting, it took only seconds for the smile to fade and for the dread of something happening to her to grab hold of his heart again.
ooo . ooo . ooo
So far, everything had gone according to plan. Dr. Brennan had collected her luggage, met the representative sent to greet her, and had been transported to her accommodations for the night.
Because of the 6-hour time difference, she arrived in the capital city of Tirana in the early evening. Due to the late hour, her work would begin the next day. Dr. Benjamin had checked in with her by phone to ensure that her accommodations were adequate and that all of her needs had been taken care of. Upon assuring him that she had been provided for adequately, she disconnected the call and began settling in. That done, she made a quick call to Booth, just because she knew that he would be worrying until he heard from her again.
He had been in a meeting, and had only been able to step out long enough to hear that she was fine and settled in for the night.
Although she had been exhausted from her travels before she had called him, when she disconnected the call she found herself feeling extremely restless. Part of her wondered if it had anything to do with hearing his voice and being so far away from him, but she ruthlessly squelched that thought.
Looking around, she quickly made her decision. She was an anthropologist, after all. Despite the approaching darkness, she was going to venture out and explore the city, observing local customs. The thought crossed her mind that Booth would advise against venturing out alone. But then she remembered a phrase she had heard Angela use one time in reference to Hodgins - "What he doesn't know, can't hurt him." With a smile, she headed out.
ooo . ooo . ooo
An hour or so later, a thoroughly exhausted Dr. Brennan had done all of the exploring she could do for one night and was making her way back. The sun had just gone down, and the area was becoming more and more deserted. Stifling a yawn, she continued on her way, still very aware of her surroundings.
She first heard rather than saw the harmless-looking young man approaching her. He was carrying several bags in his arms, the bags rustling and announcing his presence. She moved over to give him room to pass; but as he walked past her, he appeared to stumble, tripping right into her and dropping the bags against her.
Maybe it was the lateness of the hour or exhaustion from her travels. Maybe it was her strong belief in her own ability to defend herself, but as she reached out to grab the falling bags she never suspected a thing. She felt the sharp stab of a needle being stabbed into her side and felt the sucker punch to her stomach. But the one thing that truly registered as she fell to the ground was the odor of the chloroform on the rag being pressed over her nose. And that's when everything went dark.
ooo . ooo . ooo
At 10:30 P.M. in D.C. - 4:30 A.M. in Tirana, Albania - Agent Booth was very aware of the fact that it had been exactly 9 hours and 2 minutes since he had last heard from his partner. She had been settled into her room for the night, or so she had said. But thanks to that damned meeting he had been in when she'd called, he'd been too distracted to hound her about staying the hell put.
Hence his worry. He knew her - really, really knew her, despite what she might think - and just a few minutes after he had disconnected the call it had occurred to him that "in the room for the night" could amount to exactly zero with Bones.
He sincerely hoped right now that she was safe in her bed, sound asleep, but for the last eight hours his worry had been ramping up. What had started as a cold, steady vise of uneasiness squeezing his heart was now worry at the boiling point. He had no valid reason to believe she was anywhere other than safe in her bed, but he had learned long ago to trust his gut. And right now, his gut was screaming at him.
He stared at the phone in his hand. It was 4:30 in the morning over there and it could be nothing. With a hard sigh, he weighed his pros and cons. On the one hand, she might be so mad at him for calling her at 4:30 in the morning that she would refuse to call him again for the rest of her trip. On the other hand, his gut had rarely failed him before, and she could be in trouble.
'Well, I can always claim ignorance of the time zones,' Booth thought, as he made his decision to call right then and check on her. He knew it was a flimsy excuse. He also knew that she would know full well he was lying. She would know that he knew exactly what time it was there, along with the hundred other details he had amassed over the last 2 days. He had been a sniper, after all. He hadn't told her much about that time in his life, but he'd said enough for her to know that scouting and research were part of the process and were familiar territory to him - not to mention the fact that he was also an FBI agent who just happened to be relentlessly protective of her. At this point, the best he could hope for was that she would just let him get away with it and not call him on it.
He dialed the number, realizing somewhere between the fourth ring and her voicemail picking up that he had been holding his breath. He hung up, choosing not to leave a message this time. While her not answering concerned him even more, he did realize that she had been exhausted when she called him. He had heard it in her voice. If everything was okay and she was still in her room, there was no way she was awake.
Laying back on his couch with the remote in hand, he began mindlessly flipping channels, trying to force himself to relax. It was still three hours until that 12-hour deadline since she had called him. He could not allow himself to jump to conclusions just yet, despite his gut. He would give her until 1:30 A.M. his time. That would be 7:30 A.M. in Albania, and surely she would be awake by then, annoyed at his overprotective tendencies and ready to jump headlong into her authentication without his interference.
At some point Booth must have dozed, because the next thing he was aware of was sitting bolt upright looking at his clock. It was now 1:25 A.M. He was fully awake again instantly, as he realized that it was now 12 hours since she had last called him.
He dialed her number, again held his breath, and was again greeted by her voicemail. Why the hell wasn't she answering him, and why hadn't she called him? It was 7:25 there. He knew she had to be awake by now.
Taking a deep breath, he considered that she may or may not have taken his 12-hour-interval demand seriously. After all, they had originally agreed on 24 hours, right? He had teasingly bait-and-switched her into the 12-hour agreement on the phone, after she had landed. She may not have thought he meant it. The only thing she had really agreed to was returning his calls within 3 hours - and he hadn't left her any messages yet.
Cursing himself for a fool, he quickly dialed her number once again. This time he left a message telling her he'd better hear from her in the next 3 hours or he was on the next plane there. For good measure, he added that if she were to leave her room without a security escort, he was coming there to be her security escort. He hung up, greatly wishing that he had left a message three hours ago when he called.
The following 3 hours were torturous for him. Sleep was out of the question. Giving up quickly on the TV, Booth instead chose to flick his computer on and research everything he hadn't already learned about the area she was staying in, the find she was there to authenticate, and the political climate. He only checked his phone 12 times in the first hour. During the second hour, he also started researching flights to Albania from D.C.
By 4:30 A.M., he had had enough. It had now been three hours since he had left his message. It was 10:30 A.M. in Albania. Maybe she had never really agreed to call him every 12 hours, but she had sure as hell agreed to return his calls within 3 hours. She had now failed to do so. There was no longer any way to explain things away. Something had happened to her.
Grabbing his keys, phone, and the extra travel bag he kept packed in his closet, he quickly strode out the door, slamming it behind him. It was time to find some answers.
ooo . ooo . ooo
Over 4,800 miles away, Temperance Brennan was aware of very, very little. Though she had no way of knowing it, her kidnapper had pumped her full of drugs to keep her compliant. The only sensation that she was currently experiencing was a feeling of floating, far away outside her body.
ooo . ooo . ooo
Very, very near where she lay, Dr. Brennan's phone was insistently announcing that she had a voicemail message. The young Albanian archaeologist who held the phone in his hand was close to panic. He had not been thinking very far ahead when he planned this. Now that he had her, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with her. All he had been thinking about was protecting his find.
He was the one that had made the discovery of the remains - the find of a lifetime. The discovery of those Illyrian warriors, so far away from any previously discovered remains, were going to literally be his salvation. He would be published. He would be known. But most importantly, he would be rich. He would finally be rich enough to pay off the terrifying men - the bookies - that he owed thousands to and couldn't pay. Yes, this discovery had been the miracle that might literally save his life.
At least, it had been, until the confirmation team from Greece arrived and begun disputing his dig team's findings. That had begun his slow descent into madness, because he knew - he was sure - of what he had found. They were slowing him down. Time was running out. He needed his find authenticated. He needed the financial rewards, to save his own life.
Then came the news that NATO was involved. Within days, he was informed that his find, to which he no longer even had access, was going to be examined by an independent third party - a world-famous forensic anthropologist. He had heard of her, of course. Dr. Temperance Brennan. It was impossible to work in any field even closely related to archaeology or anthropology and not have heard of her. She was the best.
At first, he had felt hopeful. Surely she could help him. As the days passed, however, and he spent more time going over every detail in his notes, he began to see some of the fatal flaws in his very rushed reasoning. Maybe, just maybe she wouldn't help him. It was possible - in fact, it was probable - that she would simply be the final nail in his coffin.
And he could not allow that to happen.
ooo . ooo . ooo
Back in D.C., Agent Booth had just quietly slipped into the Jeffersonian. It was shortly before 5:00 in the morning, and the only person he could have hoped to find there at that time of day wasn't going to be there.
He made his way to her office, intent on finding any information that might help him locate her most efficiently. Her voicemail light was flashing furiously at him, so he started there. The most recent message was from about 2:00 that morning - almost 3 hours ago. He knew that would have been 8:00 A.M. Albanian time.
His blood ran cold when he heard the message.
ooo . ooo . ooo
In Albania, another voicemail message was playing, with a similar effect on the listener.
The nervous young archaeologist had finally decided to listen to Dr. Brennan's voicemail messages on her phone. The most recent message played first. He had expected this one. It was the meddling man from NATO, trying to find her. There was no surprise there. Dr. Benjamin had arrived, as arranged, at Dr. Brennan's room that morning to brief her and escort her to the dig site to begin her authentication work there with a survey of the find area. He had found no trace of her, and was looking for her.
It was the second message, left 30 minutes before the NATO man's message, that was causing the kidnapper's terror. It was the voice of a man - a man who was promising to come and find her if she didn't call back within three hours. A very serious sounding man. A man whose voice left no doubt that he could and would carry out his promise.
The young archaeologist was in no way prepared for this. He had simply hoped to stop Dr. Brennan from torpedoing his find. He had watched from the street as the NATO representative brought her to her room on the night she arrived. It had taken him by surprise when she went out alone shortly after. Although he had already gathered supplies and planned to take her, he had planned to wait until the middle of the night when she was sleeping. But that plan had been risky at best. Taking her from outside would be much safer. He could not allow such an opportunity to pass him by. After quickly preparing his supplies and parking the van close by the place she was staying, he had barely had time to hide and then approach her on her way back to her room. It had been so easy. She had never seen it coming.
He had never planned as far ahead as what to do with her next. Now, however, her kidnapper had a decision to make.
A plan - a better plan this time - began to form in his mind. He needed Dr. Brennan to disappear completely before the man from the second message could arrive. He also needed money to pay off his debts.
A slow smile crept across the man's face. There was certainly one way he knew of to make a woman disappear permanently in Albania, especially a beautiful woman, and make money at the same time. The fact that she would never get her hands on his find was an added bonus.
Everyone knew but hardly anyone spoke about the underground rings through which so many women disappeared. Human trafficking was dangerous business, and the men with whom he would have to arrange the sale were even more dangerous. But this young man was no stranger to shady, underground dealings; it was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place. But now it was going to get him out.
ooo . ooo . ooo
Before Booth even had a chance to process the horrifying message he had heard on his partner's voicemail at her desk, his own cell phone rang. His heart hammering in his chest with relief, he answered without looking to see who it was - "Bones?"
The voice that answered back sounded confused - "Seeley?"
Disappointment filled him as he realized it was not his partner - "Cam?"
"Yeah, it's me."
Booth listened impatiently as Cam told him about the message she had found upon waking up and checking her office voicemail from home a few minutes before. "I don't want to be the one to tell you this, Seeley, but Dr. Benjamin couldn't find Dr. Brennan in her room this morning. He wasn't sure who else to call and I had spoken with him before, so apparently he called me."
This was not news to Booth, as this was the same message he had just listened to on Brennan's voicemail. Apparently Dr. Benjamin was calling every contact number that he had for her.
Booth's voice was hard as he snapped, "Listen, Cam, wake everybody up. Get every last one of the squints in here, right now. I'm going to need some help."
As he hung up, Booth hesitated for only a second before dialing a number he had hoped never to have to dial, to call in a favor he'd hoped never to have to call in.
ooo . ooo . ooo
As Booth made the call that would bring his past crashing headlong into the present, he closed and locked the door of his partner's office before sitting at her desk. If he could count on Cam, as years of experience told him he could, the squint squad would be descending on him and the Jeffersonian like the proverbial ton of bricks within just a few minutes, full of questions and demanding to know how to help. He needed their help, no doubt. But he also needed his partner back, and that was more important than anything. For that, the help he needed most would come from this call, and for this call he needed privacy.
He knew what type of company his old friend and fellow soldier now ran. He was very well aware of both how lucrative and how dangerous the work was, especially since he had turned down multiple offers to partner with him in it. Because of this, Booth knew that not just anyone could reach his friend - in fact, probably only a handful of people, and then only with codes and solid proof of their identity. He had fully expected to be put through multiple switchboards, security identifications, and transfers before even being asked for the code combination he had faithfully remembered for more than 10 years but had never expected to use.
To his surprise, the operator seemed to know what he wanted as soon as he tentatively gave his name. Without even having to ask who he wanted to talk to, she told him that she would put him through immediately upon completion of his code combination.
It had been years, and Booth had no doubt that code words and combinations changed daily in his friend's line of work. Yet he had never doubted that this particular code would still be in effect if he ever chose to use it. Naji Basara was nothing if not a man of his word, especially when it came to the man to whom he believed he owed everything, his life included. Naji had made this code only for Booth, just before the danger entailed in his work had forced him to cut all ties and surround himself with security precautions.
There was a slight pause before the operator initiated the code sequence. "Loyalty," she began.
"Rewarded," Booth completed. "653-217-89."
"Thank you, Mister Booth. Condition?"
Booth took a deep breath before uttering the final word that would let Naji know he was finally asking to be repaid - "Grim."
The only reply was a click as he was put through immediately to a man he had never expected to speak to again - a man whose life he could be endangering by contacting.
ooo . ooo . ooo
Just outside the door to Dr. Brennan's office, a small crowd was gathering. Angela Montenegro had been the first to arrive, having broken every speed limit law after receiving Cam's phone call. All she knew was that her best friend was in trouble and Booth needed their help to find her. A thousand different scenarios were racing through her mind, and she wanted answers immediately. She had almost begun pounding on the door of Brennan's office when she had looked through the window to see Booth sitting at her friend's desk, phone held to his ear. She had thought better of it, however, at Booth's insistent gesture for her to wait, coupled with the intense look in his eyes.
Cam had arrived just after her, and needed no such gestures. One look at Booth told her not to disturb him, so she sat on the ground beside Angela to wait outside Brennan's office.
Dr. Jack Hodgins was not far behind the two women. "What do we know so far?" he asked as he bounced agitatedly on his toes.
Cam glanced through the window at Booth before answering his question. "We know that Dr. Brennan arrived safely in Tirana and was escorted to her room by a representative from Dr. Benjamin's office. When Dr. Benjamin arrived this morning to greet her, she was nowhere to be found. I don't know what Booth knows."
Angela also threw a glance over her shoulder at Booth. "Who do you think he's talking to in there? Do you think he knows where she is? He looks so…intense."
Cam only shrugged, as Hodgins continued bouncing on his toes, wishing someone would give him something he could do.
A nervous silence ensued, broken only by the sounds of restless fidgeting and impatient sighs. Booth and Brennan's friends could only wait now, ready to offer their own particular brands of expertise.
ooo . ooo . ooo
Naji Basara was an American of Arabic descent. His parents had immigrated to the States from Saudi Arabia, and he had been born two years later. As a child, he learned at home to fluently speak both English and Arabic. As a pre-teen who struggled to be accepted by groups of kids that he didn't quite fit in with or look like, he had turned to books and academics. Finding that he had a propensity for picking up languages, he had picked up bits and pieces of multiple languages, enough to hold tentative conversations.
In his teen years, Naji had discovered his own natural athletic ability, and it quickly blossomed. Through high school sports, he was able to find the acceptance and camaraderie he had been denied in his early adolescence.
Naji loved his country, and it had seemed only the natural thing when he graduated to join the army. Thanks to both his athletic and linguistic prowess, it also seemed only natural when he earned his Ranger tab, becoming an Army Ranger. He was a tremendous marksman, and became a trained sniper. Even more importantly, his ability to fluently speak English and Arabic made him a valuable asset.
It was that very ability, however, that was both a blessing and a curse. Despite his love of country and fierce devotion to duty, acceptance was sometimes harder to find among his fellow soldiers than it had been in middle school. Although if any one of them had been asked they would say his ethnicity made no difference, the unfortunate fact was that to some of them it did. He sometimes faced suspicions, fear, and ignorance of his religion.
If it hadn't been for one fellow soldier he met, Seeley Booth, there were times he would have felt like giving up. Their backgrounds couldn't have been more different. Naji had come from a happy, loving family. Seeley Booth didn't often speak of his family. But it was clear to Naji that he was trying to get away from something, and what else could an 18-year-old be running from other than family? Maybe he was just too distracted by his own circumstances to care that Naji was different, but Seeley Booth didn't seem to even notice that there was anything different about Naji Basara; and the two quickly became fast friends.
They had been assigned together, even worked some missions together. Naji found out quickly that Seeley was protective of his friends. He took personal offense to other guys giving Naji a hard time, and had no problem getting physical with his objections. In combat, where all differences were set aside, Seeley Booth was fiercely protective of every soldier fighting on his side. In fact, protecting those around him seemed to be the trademark of Seeley Booth.
That quality was put to the test when tragedy struck their unit. Details of a mission had been leaked, and four U.S. soldiers were killed because the enemy had been waiting and had ambushed them. Because of his fluency speaking Arabic, Naji was frequently tapped to serve in communications. Predictably, suspicion immediately fell upon him as the source of the leak. Emotions and prejudices were running high.
Seeley Booth had defended his friend, worked to help clear his name, and ultimately been responsible for finding the source of the leak, undoubtedly saving other soldiers' lives in the process. All of this he had taken upon himself to do without orders, in the name of loyalty, to the point of endangering his own record and putting himself at risk of court martial.
He had also, quite literally, saved Naji's life when some of the men - friends of the fallen soldiers - had believed it their duty to administer justice. Booth had put himself between his friend and the men, and had quite literally saved his life that night. It was that act for which Naji was forever grateful, and which he had always felt the need to repay. Seeley Both, on the other hand, insisted that loyalty was a natural part of friendship, and no repayment was necessary.
Both men had gone on to stellar service records and careers, never completely losing contact along the way.
At the end of their commissions, when both left the Army, Naji had already chosen his next path. He had heard of the tremendous money to be made in civilian contracting - doing the same type of work he had done in the Army, only as a private contractor and with hundreds of times the money and danger.
He proved to be a natural, and soon had his own company. Never one to do anything the easy way, Naji took on the most dangerous jobs in the most dangerous parts of the world, making exorbitant amounts of money. He hired only the best of the best, and had spent many hours trying to convince his friend Seeley Booth to join him as a full partner.
Booth had chosen his own path, however, and was already deep into FBI training at Quantico. Naji thought that he was crazy, but had respected his decision.
Soon, Naji only had to work a few weeks out of the year to maintain the opulent lifestyle he had adopted. For safety and security's sake, he had cut most ties and lived below the radar, running his company. Before going underground, however, he had made sure Seeley Booth could reach him if he ever needed him. He had given Booth a phone number and a code and made him promise to remember it, despite Booth's protestations that he would never seek repayment for just doing the right thing.
Naji had been insistent. "After all," he had reasoned, "I'd be dead or in the stockade for the last 10 years if it weren't for you. Just take the damn number and use it if you ever need it."
ooo . ooo . ooo
Naji Basara was all business when he came on the line. There would be time to find out specifics and to catch up later. Right now, he was finally going to get the chance to return a favor. "When and where?"
Booth had expected nothing less, and knew his friend would wish to keep this conversation as brief as possible. There would be plenty of time to discuss details on their way to Tirana from the rendezvous point. "Rendezvous, airport, Lisbon. 15 hours."
Naji raised an eyebrow at that. Whatever kind of trouble his friend had landed in, time was obviously of the essence. "What should I wear?"
Booth caught the meaning of the question. "Come fully loaded."
That was all the information Naji wanted over the phone. "Lisbon, 15 hours. Got it."
And the line went dead.
ooo . ooo . ooo
Angela jumped to her feet as she saw Booth had disconnected his call and was making his way out of Brennan's office toward them. "Booth! Thank God! Is she okay? What's going on?"
Booth's eyes snapped over each of the three squints, making sure they were all present and paying attention. He didn't have time to do this more than once. All three knew to focus and pay attention - Booth was at his most dangerous when Brennan was in trouble. "She disappeared from her room sometime between 7:30 last night and 8:00 this morning, Albanian time. I last talked to her late yesterday afternoon, D.C. time. That's all I know."
The tension in the room was practically a physical presence as he continued. "Now here's what I need. Cam, I need you to use every contact you have to get me every piece of information available on Bones' NATO contact, Dr. Kreshnik Benjamin. I want to know what he's having for lunch tomorrow before he does."
"Got it," Cam replied.
"When you have that, I want you to help Angela. Angela, I need the names of every person on that dig team, the confirmation team, the rep who met her at the airport, and anybody in either government with a political dog in this fight. I don't care what you have to do or what system you have to hack into. I need names and everything else you can find out about them. I'm looking for a motive. Check bank accounts. If anybody has had a sudden windfall, I need to know about it yesterday."
Angela's eyes widened slightly at what Booth was asking of her, but she simply nodded.
Cam, however, spoke up. "Booth, you do realize what you're asking her to do? Why not just call in the authorities?"
Booth vehemently shook his head. "No! From what Bones told me, this situation is about two steps shy of becoming an international incident. Benjamin has probably already notified the local cowboys. The last thing I'm going to let happen is for this to become some kind of jurisdictional pissing contest that gets her killed. No fucking way. I need whoever has her to think he's only up against the local police."
Angela chose that moment to regain her voice. "I'm on it, Booth. Cam, it's not a problem."
Hodgins was the very picture of nervous energy. "What do you need from me?"
Booth had no time for beating around the bush, so he once again took the direct route. "Funds and transportation. I need a private Gulfstream jet. I've got to be in Lisbon in 15 hours to rendezvous with a contact, refuel, and then get to Tirana."
Hodgins did not even blink. "Whatever you need, man. I'll have the plane on the tarmac with a pilot in less than an hour, and the money will be there waiting for you. How much do you need?"
It was Booth's turn not to blink. "Enough to stock a small army."
Jack Hodgins actually smiled at that. "Yeah, I can do that."
As he turned away, already dialing his phone, Booth stopped him. "Hey Hodgins?"
Hodgins turned to face him. "Yeah, man?"
"Thank you. I'll find a way to repay you."
Again, Jack smiled. "Don't mention it. I'd be dead in a car 3-feet under the ground if not for either one of you. You're not paying me back a dime. Just…bring back the change, all right?"
Booth watched as all three worked, noticing that nobody had wandered very far. Cam and Angela had both commandeered computer terminals directly beside the platform where he stood, Angela typing furiously as Cam juggled the computer, her phone and the pen she was furiously scribbling with. Jack was on his phone not 5 feet away from him, making the arrangements.
It was an eclectic, strange little family unit he had found himself part of when Temperance Brennan had stormed into his life like a hurricane - but it was one he wouldn't trade for the world.
Thoughts of family gave him an idea for how to handle his boss, and he quickly dialed his phone again, breathing a sigh of relief that it was still before 6:00 A.M. and he would only be talking to voicemail. "Sir, this is Agent Booth. I have a family emergency that is going to require me to go out of town unexpectedly this morning. I'll be away for at least the rest of this week, but all my open case files are on my desk. Thank you, sir."
Booth had no more than disconnected when he heard from behind his shoulder, "What kind of family emergency? Is everything okay with Parker?"
Four heads immediately snapped around and looked right at Dr. Lance Sweets.
Sweets seemed honestly confused. "I got a page that there was an emergency and to get here as fast as I could."
Cam froze. "I forgot again - he's on my speed dial, and I just paged the whole group. Booth…"
Booth filled him in with everything he needed to know. "Bones has disappeared in Albania. I'm going to go get her back. You're not going to tell anybody. Got it?"
Sweets never had a chance to answer before one more voice chimed in, effectively taking the focus off of Sweets in dramatic fashion.
"What can I do?"
Five mouths dropped open. There, standing right in the middle of the Jeffersonian offering his assistance, stood one Zack Addy.
TO BE CONTINUED...
