A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!

Here is Chapter 2! I don't know why, but this story is just forcing itself into my head awfully quickly. Please review!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

The only relief she ever got was when she blacked out. Her dreams kept her from losing her mind completely. In them, she was safe. She was home. She and Jack were already married, and there was no Grayson that had to be found to divorce. Booth had never been shot, and Brennan's dad had never gone to jail. Everyone was happy. And there was no pain.

But eventually, she'd be shaken awake roughly, or slapped until her eyes opened, like this time. She blinked a few times, catching two more slaps before Skip noticed she was awake. He leaned in close to leer at her; his breath made Angela want to gag. In fact, she had on more than one occasion.

"Wanted you awake for this next part. We aint gonna carry you no more, bitch. Yer being moved and yer gonna walk to the van on your own damn feet." Without further explanation, he reached down and grabbed her under her left arm, pulling her up. Her legs, weak from atrophy and sore from various wounds trembled and buckled. If not for her captor, she would've fallen on her face. Skip didn't even bother giving her something to wear, let alone shoes to cover her bare feet. Holding tightly to her arm, he forced her to walk across the warehouse towards the same black van they had brought her in originally. A cry of pain escaped her involuntarily when she stepped on a piece of one of Skip and his friend's broken bottles of Bud. Instead of pausing to bound up her foot, the man holding her shifted his grip, then punched her in her left kidney. "I TOLD you not to make any sounds, you stupid cunt!"

Angela gagged and swayed before he tightened his hold again and pulled her the remaining feet to the van. His buddy was already there, and reached out to pull Angela inside. She couldn't see the front of the van, but she heard a man's voice that she didn't recognize.

"She give you any trouble?"

Skip shot a glare at the woman, causing her to shrink back into the corner of the van. She hated that she was reacting like this, but she couldn't help it.

"Nah, boss. We roughed her up good, just like you said. She aint gonna be a problem," Skip responded with confidence.

"Good. Here. Give her this. I don't want her seeing where we're going next." Ange had no idea what he was talking about, until Skip appeared once again in her line of vision, coming towards her with yet another syringe. God, more drugs? She knew what would happen if she struggled, but she did so anyway, trying to avoid having her arm caught by him. Impossible, of course, with her hands still bound. Without pausing, he merely punched her in the face, this time, causing her head to snap back against the side of the van. Dazed, she barely felt the puncture of the needle as he roughly administered the drug.

A few minutes later, she lost consciousness again, slumping to the floor of the van gracelessly.