Thanks to everyone who reviewed: danireed, labsquint, bb-4ever, Daisy190, suzyab, my-serendipity, and SuchAGoodGirl. Thanks again to FauxMaven for the title and to both FauxMaven and redrider6612 for their fabulous editing. I decided that I will be posting one chapter a week on Sundays. Enjoy.
"Good morning, ladies," said their captor, waking them from their slumber.
"Huh?" Brennan mumbled, not fully awake. She opened her eyes and after a disoriented moment remembered what had happened. She yawned and then stretched while Celia rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
"Oh, yes," their captor cooed, "very, very nice."
"You're such a…" Celia paused, looking for the right word, and then finished angrily, "pervert!"
He chuckled. "And don't I know it."
In a business-like tone, he said, "Now ladies, here's how it's going to be. You do what I want, and I'll give you food and warmth and beauty sleep."
"What exactly do you want?" Brennan asked thoughtfully.
"Just two things. First, you must be clean, but you may not take long baths. Second, I want to be entertained. Oh, and don't call each other by your real names. From now on you're Blondie and Red." he replied.
"I'm impressed by your creativity," Brennan flung back sarcastically.
"Now, now," he responded condescendingly, "is that any way to talk to the person who controls whether or not you'll get your next meal?"
The pleasure in his tone made her so angry. Deciding that ignoring him would be better, she said to Celia, "So Blondie, do you want the first shower?"
Celia shook her head and curled back into a ball on the bed, and Brennan headed toward the bathtub. She pulled the shampoo, conditioner and soap out of one of vanity drawers and turned on the water, waiting for it to get warm. She used the toilet while she waited.
Then she got in, pulled the stop to turn on the shower, and moved under the water. As she shampooed her hair, she decided it was somewhat disconcerting to know that her every move was being recorded. Since there was a camera right underneath the showerhead, it was also a very difficult fact to ignore.
When her shower was over, she squeezed as much water out of her hair as she could, dried her hair, and then used the hair dryer to blow most of the water off of her body.
"Your turn, Blondie," she called.
"No thanks," the other woman said.
Brennan walked over to Celia. "You have to do this. I know it's making you uncomfortable; I feel the same way. But if you don't do this we won't have any food."
"Maybe I'd rather not eat, Red," she replied defiantly.
"You don't eat and who knows what happens," Brennan fired back. "He kept his word about the heat last night, and I'm hungry. Even if you don't want to eat, please do it so I can."
"Fine," Celia spat back, angry with her and the whole situation. The anger pulled her out of her prior funk and she was soon soaping her body in the shower, trying desperately to forget the cameras.
A couple of minutes after the water went off, two paper plates were pushed through the flap at the bottoms of the door. Brennan picked them up and took them to "saloon corner" as she was beginning to think of it. Celia joined her.
There were eggs, bacon and toast on the plates. Brennan wasn't particularly fond of these foods, but Celia apparently was. She grabbed a plastic spoon, the only utensil they had been given, and dug in.
'She must not be a morning person,' Brennan thought.
No drinks or cups had accompanied their breakfast, so when she was done, she went to the sink, bent over, awkwardly turned her head and drank straight from the tap. Celia followed her example and then went back and curled up the bed.
"Push the plates back through the flap," commanded their captor.
When Brennan grabbed the plates and pushed them under the door, she reached as far as she could to see if there was anything useful within reach. She pulled her arm back with disappointment and then inspected the door carefully. Their captor was very thorough.
'Oh well,' she thought, 'at least the room is cement, it should keep the heat in pretty well.'
At that moment, a loud fan started nearby. A moment later air began to circulate in their basement. Brennan glanced at the thermometer: seventy-two degrees.
She went to sit next to Celia and attempted to engage her in conversation.
"We're going to have to entertain this guy," she said. "My college professor said I did a lovely monologue of Shakespeare and I'm good at telling stories. I know that you can dance. What other talents do you have?" she asked.
The other woman refused to answer, so Brennan curled up next to her and began to sort through what had happened and what they knew about their captor. He was a pervert and liked to be in control, going to extreme lengths to manipulate the situation to his advantage. He was thorough and smart, a careful planner. A setup like this was expensive, so he might also be rich.
Brennan began to think about her resources. Booth would already have realized that she was missing. They were supposed to meet after lunch. He would already be looking. But there wasn't much evidence for him to find. It was unlikely the alley was monitored by cameras or that there had been any witnesses to their abduction.
There was nothing in the room that she could use to effect an escape. The door couldn't be opened from the inside. They didn't have enough of the right kind of household products to make any kind of explosives. If they'd had hairspray, she could have used it with the hairdryer. She wasn't sure if the lack was deliberate or simply an oversight, but it was aggravating. There might be something unique about something in the room – the wood of the saloon's bar or the paint on the walls, but she had no way of getting it to anybody who would find it useful.
Still, she should try and get as many of those particulates on herself and Celia as possible. Maybe they'd get lucky and one of them would get out somehow. If so, it would help her team find the other one. Speaking of which, she needed to find a way to tell Celia a few things without their captor overhearing.
Brennan shivered. The temperature was dropping rapidly. It was now sixty-five degrees. The room had been designed specifically for this exact use.
She momentarily thought about entertaining their captor, but decided to wait until it got colder. Certainty settled in her gut, she didn't want to have to entertain this guy any more often than she had to. A soft chuckle escaped her as she realized that she was acting on her gut. Booth would be so proud.
A second fan kicked in and started pulling the warm air out of the room faster. Another half an hour passed.
Deciding that she'd waited long enough, she got up, centered herself in the room, and began a dramatic recitation of the famous monologue from Macbeth:
"She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing." (Act V, Scene 5)
"Very nice, Red," their captor said, "but that's not exactly the kind of entertainment I'm looking for."
Brennan thought for a moment and then went to the bar and took out four pieces of fabric. One she draped around her neck; she started juggling with the other three. She wasn't any good with balls or beanbags, but scarves weren't too hard. Once she'd found a rhythm she added the fourth to her pattern. She juggled several different ways, and then when she was done, she gave a deep performer's bow.
She looked toward the speaker, waiting for his response, and noticed that Celia was watching her.
The sound of clapping came from the speaker. "You're very talented. But once again, not what I'm looking for."
"Well, what do you want?" she demanded, having a pretty good idea of what the answer would be.
As expected, he replied, "Oh, I don't care what you do exactly, but it should show off your beautiful body." His voice dropped into a lower register and he continued, "Be seductive. Make me want you."
Brennan began the warm-up she used at her dojo. Hopefully this would meet his criteria and keep her in shape without giving too much away. Then she carefully executed the simplest moves, slowly first and then with increasing speed. It felt weird to do them without her uniform, but she put that aside and concentrated on making them look as stylized as possible. Any time felt as if she overbalanced even a bit, she allowed herself to fall or visibly wobble trying to make herself look as much like a novice as possible.
Panting from the effort of her workout, she completed the last move and then went to the sink for a drink. After a large swallow, she splashed her face with water. Then she collapsed onto one of the soft carpets, still breathing heavily.
The fans switched off.
"A very good beginning, Red," the male voice complimented her.
She pushed away her revulsion at his words and began to review human anatomy systematically, beginning with naming all 206 bones in alphabetical order.
About two hours later the fans came back on, and the temperature began to drop again. When they were sufficiently cold, she said, "Blondie, c'mon, it's your turn."
Leaning over, she whispered in Celia's ear. "Do the simplest dances you know. We need to begin as small as possible, so we can put off the worst as long as possible. "
"No whispering," their captor said harshly.
Celia looked at her with large scared eyes, not wanting to imagine what the worst could be. She stood, walked to the center of the room, and began an elegant dance.
When it was over, he said breathily, "Oh Blondie, your body is exquisite."
Celia practically ran back to the bed and resumed her fetal position. Her dance bought them three hours.
Brennan decided against doing anything else that would reveal her proficiency at martial arts and opted to drape fabrics artistically around her body and pose for the camera.
Two hours later Celia was doing another dance. Another two hours after that, Brennan did one of the tribal dances she knew.
"An unusual choice, Red," commented their captor. "I've never seen anything like it."
The two women took turns, and a variety of dances carried them through the end of the day. Two plates were pushed under the door and they ate hungrily, returning the plates when they were finished.
"If you want us to keep this up, we're going to need some props," Brennan told their captor. However, there was no reply, so she wasn't sure if he heard her.
The two women collapsed tiredly into the odd bed and slept soundly.