Brennan stood in the middle of the room in disbelief. She supposed she shouldn't have been so shocked, but she still felt as though she'd been blindsided. Her mind furiously tried to come up with a way to adapt to the new change of events. Where was he? Where had he gone? So far as she knew he wasn't any more familiar with the terrain than she was. Then there was to consider, how long ago had he left?

Another thought suddenly popped into her head that stole her breath away. Had he left with her car? She rushed to the front door and opened it. Her eyes scanned the parking lot. The vehicle still sat in the space she'd left it in the night before. Her heart settled, and her hopes sank simultaneously. If he had stolen her car she could have easily found him by reporting it. She shut the door and leaned back against the cold hardwood. If he'd set out on foot than she couldn't believe he had been able to cover much ground. Particularly considering his condition. Neither his foot nor his ankle had mended enough to support him for all that long. Just as she couldn't imagine that his lungs or ribs had healed enough to give him the type of oxygen capacity he required for long term stamina. There was still a chance she could hunt him down.

Swiftly she dressed for the elements in a sweatshirt, jeans, and a pair of boots. Just as she was beginning to step foot outside the heavens opened. A hard, pelting rain sank down over the land. She exhaled roughly in frustration. As if finding him wasn't going to be hard enough. The odds were stacking up against her. Still, she refused to be deterred. It was nothing more than a setback.

She prepared herself accordingly. I'm coming, she thought with steely determination. I refuse to let you get away from me again.


Booth couldn't move. He was reclined back against a tree; his legs awkwardly positioned out in front of him with his broken ankle angled off to one side. Pieces of broken cast warped the shape of the leg of his jeans. He'd underestimated his body's ability to navigate the woody terrain. His light weight cotton shirt was soaked to the bone, and he cursed himself for forgetting to bring some type of coat or slicker. Not that he'd had easy access to them, since he ultimately had no other clothes besides what he was wearing. Nor could he see in the dark early hours of the morning when he'd left. Still he was confident he could have fashioned something.

All had been going well. So long as he took slow and premeditated steps his body had been able to support him. Downhill. Uphill. Just so long as he nursed himself he didn't encounter a single problem. Then life decided to throw him a curveball. The darkness had blinded him to an oversized rock jutting up from the ground. He'd tripped, his broken ankle twisting out from beneath him. He sunk to the ground, landing flat on his face. His chest and ribs had begun burning with a searing pain that brought tears to his eyes. He had an excellent pain tolerance. Always had, always would. But at last he'd hit his limit.

Covered in mud, he'd managed to brace himself against a tree where he'd been ever since. He heaved quick, shuddering breaths. His heart was racing like a jack rabbit. He was freezing, and he wasn't entirely sure it was from the cold. Indeed, he was in deep trouble. And no one was around to help. He'd turned his back on his family; on the woman he loved. There'd been no choice. She couldn't be involved in the chaos he'd fallen into; into the danger. If it was his last noble act he had to protect her. Since he knew she didn't see it the same way, he accepted that his only option had been to leave while she'd been sleeping. He'd felt immense guilt, but carried through with his plans. Someday she'd understand. He just had a feeling he wouldn't be around when she did.

As his respirations continued to increase he began to feel lightheaded. His vision wavered before him. The environment swooped and swirled in an intricate dance. At last he let his head tip backwards onto his shoulders and winced his eye shut. His foes wouldn't have a chance to murder him. With the way he was feeling he didn't doubt that that tree was due to become his headstone. No one's gonna be able to find me. Bones won't ever know what happened to me.

Those were his last thoughts as his trembling increased, and a fresh stab of pain sent him into a black oblivion.


Anytime Booth coughed blood expelled from his mouth. Hours ago he'd been dropped into a room of isolation after a brutal beating. He wasn't about to give them what they wanted. No amount of pressure or torture would be enough to pull the information they so violently sought out of him. He had yet to speak a word, and he planned to keep it that way. If his giving his life kept others safe then he was willing to make the sacrifice. His thoughts trailing along those lines, he immediately thought of Brennan and Christine. His heart broke over the thought of his daughter growing up without him. Parker, as well. When Hacker had given him the assignment he knew what he'd been getting himself into. But he hadn't fully grasped the repercussions.

Time sluggishly moved along. Before anyone returned for him days seemed to pass, though in reality it was no more than a few hours. He could only just barely see two men stroll inside. They yanked him up onto his feet, spinning him around and slamming him head first into a wall of his cell. He tried to struggle but logically knew his efforts were worthless. His captors had been withholding food and water from him. That combined with the repeated beatings had significantly weakened him.

Cold steel was snapped securely around his wrists. Behind him he heard a voice order, "drop him to the ground." The command was no more given before his legs were kicked out from underneath him. He collapsed on the floor without any way to shield himself.

"I want him on his back."

Again, he was maneuvered as told. The man who had been badgering him since he'd arrived stood over him with a metal baseball bat. He extended it forward, pressing it against his neck and forcing his chin to tilt upwards. He sneered the smile of a jackal. "You ready to give yet?"

Defiantly Booth jerked his chin away and shoved at the bat with his cheek. You won't break me.

"All right. If that's the way it has to be." The bat was raised over his head. Booth squinted his eyes closed.


Booth didn't know what to think when he woke encompassed in a sea of white, fluffy cotton. A soft pillowy fabric was caressing the bare skin on his back. What really startled him however, was realizing that the pain he'd been in for long had been dialed down. Oh, he still felt pain. Plenty of it. But it wasn't nearly as debilitating as it had been for weeks.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Booth."

The voice dragged his attention back to the present. Though she was rather blurry he could see Brennan through his good eye at the foot of his bed, her hands planted firmly on her hips. Distinguishing her features was a challenge, but he had a feeling he knew the emotion expressed on her face even without being able to properly see her. "Where am I?" He whispered in a damaged voice.

"You're back in our hotel room. I found you amidst the woods approximately four miles from here. I am baffled as to how you got that far on your own."

"How'd you find me?"

"I used the cell phone ping method."

On feeble biceps did he thrust himself up into a sitting position. "You carried me back here all by yourself?" It went without saying that he had a good amount of healthy body weight over her smaller figure.

"Not exactly. You were covered in mud, drenched, and delirious when I found you. You were able to stumble back with my assistance. But your adventure out into the woods has done further damage to your ankle. Your cast broke. We really need to take you to the hospital to have it set for a second time."

He had no intentions of doing such and they both knew it. Booth's mind was still cloaked in confusion. "I passed out then, when we got back?"

"No. After cleaning you and removing your clothes I gave you a sleeping pill to keep you from disappearing again while I went out to run some errands. I told you it was aspirin. You didn't resist."

His brow lowered. "So you drugged me?"

"I did what I felt was necessary. While you were out I made a few phone calls." She moved away from him towards the dresser. Only just could he make out the outline of three pill bottles. She tapped each one as she spoke. "Vicodin for your pain. An antibiotic, and a steroid to reduce swelling. A friend of mine who is a doctor prescribed them for you. They are under my name, so you are still safe."

"You drugged me," he repeated steadily.

"And you abandoned me. I'd put us as about even."

He sighed. "Bones, you don't get it."

"Perhaps I would if you would be honest with me; if you'd talk to me. I can't make sense of you. This isn't at all typical behavior for you. I believe now you were looking to leave me behind as soon as you could. You only agreed to allow me to come along in the hospital to pacify me, and I cannot tell you how much that angers me. We should be together, Booth. Separating will only-"

"It's for your own good." He interrupted her.

"Why? Because you say so? You don't know what's best for me."

"I know you need protecting."

"From what?"

"From me!"

They squared off. In a calmer, patient voice Brennan tried to reach him. "I just want the truth from you. What is it that has you so afraid? You've never been so stand offish to me. You've never behaved in this manner at all."

"I told you, Bones. You need to forget about me-"

"And we both know that isn't going to happen. So talk to me. Tell me what's going so that we may figure out a plan together."

He crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes leveled into the blank, angered glare that induced goosebumps on her flesh. She grit her teeth. "Andrew thinks you've been turned, that you've come to sympathize with your abductors."

Heartily, he laughed. "You really think I'd do that?"

"I don't know what to think anymore. I know you sustained an injury to your skull. I suppose it could have altered your perception of reality. There's that syndrome, in which victims begin to identify with their captors."

"I don't have Stockholm Syndrome."

"Then what is it? I know you know remember all that happened. You have nightmares. You talk in your sleep. You… you utter sentences in a different language. I can appreciate and understand that there must be some sort of motive behind your actions. But I need more from you. I need to know."

He didn't flinch. Nothing said in her speech had changed his mind. Whatever he was concealing was locked deep inside of him. For now, he would reveal nothing. And knowing how stubborn he was, Brennan worried it was only a matter of time before she lost him for good. Rage and sorrow stole her heart. Aggravated tears welded in her eyes. She moved towards the door. "You've lied to the FBI. You've lied to me. But now, I'm wondering if you are also lying to yourself." With those parting words she exited the room, slamming the door as hard as she could behind her. She removed her keys from her pocket and retreated to the safety of her car. There she permitted herself to shed a few tears.

She couldn't let Booth slip through her fingers again. She had a feeling now more than ever that if he got away from her, it'd be the last she ever saw of him. An event had taken place that had touched him in a way that nothing else had. It'd created a friction between them.

Come hell or high water, she'd find out just what that was. His life was depending on it.