I still don't own Bones although if I did I might have written this a little differently. Oh well no accounting for the direction your muse takes you I suppose.

This is a different story and does take place after Booth and Bones are partners.

Chapter 21 Fortitude

He was hot, he was thirsty, he was dirty, he was hungry and he hurt in places he hadn't known it was possible to hurt in. He tried to move hell, he thought, moving hurt too much. How long had he been here? He felt for the thread he had pulled from his uniform shirt and counted the knots. 45, 45 days and he was about to add a 46th. His captors would be in soon, trying to get him to repudiate his government. He wouldn't, they would beat him again and just like on all the 45 days before they would threaten to kill him, show him pictures of friends, other members of his team threaten to kill all of them. A few days ago they had tried a new tactic. They had shown him a picture of his son. It had been a current picture of him playing at the park with his Nanny. They had threatened to kill him too. It had scared him they had gotten that close. He just had to depend on his friends, his partner to keep his son safe.

Here they were again. Only this time they had decided to change their tactic again. They showed him the picture first. It was her. "So Agent Booth are you going to tell us now why you are here. Are you finally going to admit you are here as a CIA operative spying for your government?"

He wasn't of course. Actually he had been re-activated by the Army. He had tried to tell the Army he didn't want to go, they played the patriotism card. He tried to tell them he was too old, they had others who were older. They had men who had children, they had… they had… no matter what he had said they had... The one thing he could not say was he had promised he would never leave her. Now these men had her picture.

"Bones," he whispered through dry cracked lips. He didn't even have any tears left to cry it had been 46 days. What they didn't know as the beatings started again, was what the pictures had done for him. He would last, he would hold out until the very end. His last conscious thought would be of her and Parker. He hoped they would find a way to stay in each other's lives. He was so sorry he had failed her.

Later he woke up the sun was just raising he felt for his thread 53 knots, 54.

"Director Cullen I don't care what you have been told, something is wrong. Booth would have found a way to let either Parker or I know he was ok. He had been calling us daily until about 50 days ago. I'm telling you something is wrong. Yesterday one of the Security Guards at the Jeffersonian told me he saw some men taking pictures of me and Parker inside the Museum. I don't take Parker there very often they must have been waiting a long time. .can'..!" She slammed the phone back into the cradle. Who could she call? Who would know about where Booth was? She didn't think he was still in the country, if he had been he would have found a way to call them unless he were dead. There was no way she would believe that. She would know, she would feel it if he were dead. Who could she call? Did Hodgins have someone? She had to ask, she had been waiting, not wanting to let anyone see how concerned she was about Booth apparent disappearance. She hadn't wanted anyone to know they kept in such close contact, now it didn't matter, she had to find him. She went in search of Hodgins.

Another morning he reached for the thread he was almost to the end, he would need to get another. This thread was the only thing keeping him still attached to this world. This, and the daily beatings. Funny how he had come to look forward to them. They meant he was still alive and maybe still worth something to someone. Every once in a while he was shown a new picture of either Parker or Bones, he lived for them. He felt for the thread 61, he added another 62. He said his usual prayer, please keep them safe, keep them together and let them know I love them. Suddenly he heard a lot of shouting and gun fire. Was this finally it? One of his capturers ran into the room with a gun pointed at him, as he watched the man fell to the ground, a bullet in the back of his head. He closed his eyes, who would be his new tormentor?

"Booth?"

He opened his eyes thinking it was a delusion. "Bones?" His voice was cracked and rusty from all the abuse.

"Booth, let me check you, lay still." She ran her hands over his body and her eyes filled with tears. The injuries he had sustained were numerous and many would make it dangerous to move him far but they had little choice. They needed to get him to the helicopter Hodgins had sent with her, then back to his jet. Hodgins had foreseen the need for a full medical team to care for Booth until they could get him back to DC and in the care of specialists. He started to try and move again and talk. "Hush baby," she said as she gently held him in place "I'm getting you out of here!"

In the following weeks during his convalesce they were able to piece together the story of what happened. He was to have taken out three selected targets. There had been a traitor in amongst them who had been paid to turn him over to the one of the minority political parties. They had needed him to admit he was there as a CIA operative so they could attack the Americans entering their country on a peace mission. They had been following both her and Parker initially just to get pictures at first. Later they wanted to kidnap one or the other of them to force him to give in. Her concern after the security guard told her about the photographer helped keep both of them safe. Hodgins had finally found Booth's location and put together a team to rescue him. She had demanded to go along. The team had not had a chance in hell of talking her out of it. They had found him and brought him home.

The epilogue to the whole event was when Booth came home. Now he was ensconced in what was to be their new bed she told him one thing, well two really. One he was never leaving her to go away like that again, to which he hardily agreed. Two she told him how proud she was of his fortitude, his courage his resilience. He told her it was easy he only needed 62 knots.

B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&&B

Very long for a challenge I know, and I don't know where it all came from. It seems once I started I just couldn't stop.

For those of you who know, it was his backwards short timers ribbon. To those who had them we remember.

Nyre

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