Sleep deprivation was one of Booth's least favorite forms of torture.
The exhaustion was a parasite, eating at his brain. The pain was there, but distant, like it belonged to someone else, he was just borrowing it for a while. He could feel his body slowly shutting down, his eyes sliding shut every second. Every time they did, he received a vicious belt, buckle biting into his flesh.
Just like old times, he thought, and giggled insanely.
On the upside, he was ninety percent sure that the Bones in the corner wasn't real. She was, however, doing a convincing job of spouting nonsense, though Booth wasn't sure if it was scientific jargon or if he'd merely lost the ability to understand human speech.
His cheek stung. A slap, he realized. His head was being forcibly held up, his half-lidded eyes made to look at someone. His vision kept sliding sideways.
"You think we're kidding?" a low, calm, and absolutely livid voice asked. "Let me show you just how serious this is."
He stepped back, releasing him, and Booth's head dropped down to his chest. He felt another set of hands on him, attaching something to him, but it was hard to care.
"Look here." He didn't respond, and a hand fisted in his hair, pulling him up. "I said, look here." His voice was hard.
Booth blinked, struggled to focus. He was holding a photograph, he could tell, but the subject…
Suddenly it fell into place, and he started.
"Yeah, you know him, don't you?"
Booth was silent.
Pain erupted. He went rigid as electricity coursed through his body, searing him from the inside. A cold numbness was starting to emerge when just as suddenly, it stopped. He slumped back down, twitching.
"What about him? Or him?" The man held up two more photographs. Booth didn't need to look nearly so hard to place them now.
"How did you - ?" He rasped, and was cut off again by another brutal shock. Those helpless seconds he was trapped, immobilized by the electricity seizing his muscles felt like an eternity.
"He speaks!" The voice was pleased. "But we'll be asking the questions today. I show you these so that you know that we aren't just some thugs. We have powerful friends, and I'd advise you to cooperate."
At his lack of response, icy pain gripped him again. It ravaged through him. He wanted to scream, he needed to, but he was paralyzed. For a moment, he was sure he was going to die.
Then, blissful release. He was going to fall unconscious, thank god.
But a hand gripped his face, nails digging into his cheek, and he was dragged back to awareness. He was surprised to find himself looking into the eyes of Bones.
"You killed them," she hissed. Her voice mingled dissonantly with the man's. "You think yourself a man of honor when you're nothing more than a murderer. A cowardly one, at that. They never even saw you coming. You didn't even have the courage to look them in the eye before you burst their brains."
"No," he said. He strained against his restraints, fists clenching.
"Yes," the man replied, and agony tore at him again.
Booth was panting, ears ringing. "Yes," he repeated. "You're no better than us. What about her? She was a mother. Her children are orphans now. Or him, barely twenty years old when you murdered him. Or any of these people, only militant because your precious government turned their back on them." Dozens of faces flashed beneath his eyes.
It was Bones standing before him now, face hard.
"You are the one who deserved to die, Seeley Booth, not them," she said.
She leaned in. He could feel her breath on his ear. "But this can all stop, if you just give us what we want."
Booth wavered. He was so tired.
Slowly, slowly, he shook his head.
"As you wish," she said, and the pain exploded once more.