Seeley rarely had been regretting something so much, almost never, but now this pressing, chilling feeling of guilt for the perfect mistake was eating at him.
He shouldn't tease him, he'd been told...
Not only his own death was scaring the daylights out of him, it was disgusting to realize that after his doom nobody will protect Brennan better than he did. She'll becoming weak and helpless, having learned about his tragic end, and it will be easy for Pelant to get to her in the created turmoil.
From the beginning, Booth gave a promise that he'll preserve her, stay near during his all life, no matter how short it would be because of his dangerous work. Temperance reproached him thereat and asked him not to say that again, and he wasn't saying, but he always had been knowing and remembering his promise which he kept.
Seeley imagined with a heavy heart how she's crying quietly near his grave, getting down on the humid ground covered with a fresh grass; how she's suffering from grief, not finding solace into her pain, and Christopher is keeping an eye on her patiently, silently like a hunter oversees the prey. Booth was wanting to groan due to this terrible conclusion, scream with all his strength, but he won't show his true emotions: if he have to die today, it's only with honor. He won't let Pelant leave the last word.
Christopher put aside the scalpel calmly and took the bigger one with his famous confidence. This knife with a curved cutting edge and an ornate handle seemed like hunting weapon, but its beauty didn't cancel the dangerous. Booth's pupils dilated, and his heart skipped the beat.
"Is it a collectible knife?" he asked, looking sideways on the cold steel.
"Yes. My favorite. The family assets. He's more than thirty years old," he answered seriously, being so proud of his range of nasty things for torture.
"How many?" Seeley asked again on purpose, despite the fact that he heard everything right.
"More than thirty, you know. There's a result of what a true care and treatment can make. But I don't like using it actually: it's too blunt partly and cuts more painfully and less neatly than others".
And after that the agent felt nausea coming up to his throat. It was a protective reflex of the body: to clean the stomach of food in a stressful situation. And the more fear appears, it becomes harder to overcome this desire. He felt sick for the first time in his life, in a moment of nervous, brain and physical tension, but the realization that Pelant is going to cut him with a blunt knife without any anesthetics drove him into a real shiver. He already prayed inwardly to lose consciousness as soon as possible from a violent pain.
"But, hey, don't worry. I sharpened it specially for you".
The criminal didn't say this at once deliberately, wanting to enjoy his pale face. He was satisfied, seeing how the idol of many people, a real hero, the standard of courage is absolutely helpless now and has only to reconcile with his ugly fate.
Christopher was bursting with impatience, but he knew: if he lose control, he will spoil his pleasure. Nevertheless, it was a time for the last step of a preparation. He liked it more than previous one.
Booth had already convinced himself that Pelant would start to kill him, but he scoffed at him again, showing the instrument of torture chosen by him. He also accepted that no one will find him in the next half an hour. Even if they're searching him by any means necessary — the criminal led them in the wrong direction for sure. And when they're being at a standstill of a high-profile case with a radiant hope, he will not alive.
"Do you breathe the name
Of your savior
In your hour of need,
And taste the blame if the flavor
Should remind you of greed..."
Humming a catchy song, Pelant felt the wide leather belts under the table and pulled them out, fixing the agent's wrists and feet stronger than before. The belts were softer than steel chains and wasn't harming the skin, and Christopher removed those painful shackle, nailing victim's limbs tightly.
"Hope that's better," he said, continuing;
"Of implication, insinuation and ill will
Till' you cannot lie still,
In all this turmoil, before red cape and foil
Come closing in for a kill..."
The next belt lay around his neck, not letting upping the head anymore, and the last one was tightened under his chest so bad that it became harder to breathe.
"Is it too strongly?" the criminal questioned with concern, holding the buckle in his hands; "I can relieve it if it's bad. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable".
"Should be good. I'm thankful for your caring," he brought contemptuously.
"As you please".
"You have a quite good ear for music, by the way. Why are you laughing? I'm honest," of course he wasn't.
"In these moments I can see what Brennan found on you. You're a life of the party".
Finally, Pelant was prepared to start. His cheekbones were cramping up because of anticipation, and he took a knife enthusiastically, smiling ear to ear.
"So, are you ready?"
"Hey, you're an asshole, that's right, but you're a man and by the reason of it you must keep a promise," Booth said suddenly.
He had thought a lot about how he can make him wait a little more time, and, probably, now he had a plan.
"Well," he looked at him with interest, freezing at his place; "Are you going to offer me something?"
Christopher was understanding perfectly that Seeley is distracting him on purpose, finding other ways to talk with him and play for time, and it kept making him laugh. But he was giving into his ploy so as not to deprive the agent of the last hope. In fact, there was a panic in Jeffersonian Anthropology Unit long ago, but they were looking for Booth at the other end of the city due to the fake videotape, in an area near an abandoned factory, believing that he really was there.
"Like that".
"Great! I like deals!"
"That's why you need to listen to me carefully," he breathed deeper, gathering strength to go ahead; "We both know who is your real target. Of course, it's silly to rely on you, but I have nothing to lose. I just wanna beg you to don't hurt her. You can do anything you want with me, I'll not say a word to you. You can cut me with anesthesia or not — no matter, have a revenge on me in full-time, but in return, stay away from her. Deal?"
Author's note: song: Poets of the fall — Carnival Of Rust