Chapter 24

"I'm okay. I promise you."

Zack shuffles his feet, looking unconvinced. "Hodgins was very emphatic, verging on threatening."

Across the expanse of the kitchen island, Angela rolls her eyes at the toast she's buttering. "Of course, he was. But I guarantee you, he doesn't expect you to be with me every minute of the day. You can go to class, Zack"

"Being with you every minute is impractical, as it would include joining you when you evacuate your bowls. Which would be very unpleasant," Zack says, his face twisted in mild disgust for a moment. As has been common since he learned of her pregnancy, his gaze is drawn to Angela's rounded belly. He is again filled with the uncomfortable mixture of wonderment and unease that a new life was growing inside the body of one of his best friends. But today new unpleasant emotions have been added to the mix: anxiousness and concern. He feels the need to explain his concerns, falling back on what he knows he can rely on.

"You are under high levels of stress at the moment. Statistics indicate that women that endure increased stress levels during their pregnancy are at a greater risk to suffer a mis-"

"Hey!" Angela snaps her head up, pointing the butter knife menacingly at him. "What have I told you about the M word?"

"Forbidding a word to be spoken doesn't erase the likelihood of the event happening."

"You want to keep my stress level down? Then remember, the M word is banned." Angela bites her toast, brown eyes staring him down and daring him to challenge her.

The gate alert stops Zack from replying. Still munching on her toast irritably, Angela walks to the house intercom. "Hello?"

"Hey, there."

"Hi, Hank. Come on in," Angela smiles, releasing the gate lock for her second favorite Booth. She turns to Zack, smiling wider to combat his frown. "There, feel better? Hank will be with me, and you can go to class! And just so we're clear, there will be no need for you to witness me evacuate anything, ever."

He still looks uncertain, groaning a little. "Hmmm. Age reduces cognitive ability and reflexes. Also, Hank's health has-"

"Zack!" she runs her hands over her face, taking a second to reign in her urge to start yelling at the boy in front of her. With a deep sigh, she sends her frustrating but adorable friend a sugary smile. "Sweetie. I deeply appreciate your concern. Really. But I'm going to be cooking up this baby for a few more months, ok? But if you don't get your genius ass to school and give me a little space, you're the one who'll be needing an epidural today. Got it?"

"Hello?" They both glance towards the hall where the old man's voice is echoing. "Where is everybody?"

Hank shakes his head at his echo. No matter how many times he's visited, he can't quite get over that this all belongs to some kid who likes to play in the dirt. He catches sight of Angela walking towards him and frowns, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "What are you thinking, leaving the door unlocked on a castle like this?"

"There's a high security gate," Zack points out.

Hank narrows his eyes. "People can still climb, can't they?"

"Don't mind Zack. He's just leaving for school." Angela places both hands on his shoulders, giving them a pat before pushing him two steps closer to the door. "There you go, Zackaroni, all set. John's waiting by the car for you. Bye now!"

Zack gives one final grimace of uncertainty and walks out, shrugging his heavy backpack onto his shoulders. Hank and Angela shake their heads at his retreating back, Angela with exasperated affection and Hank with simple bafflement. Try as he might, he just can't figure that boy out.

"I don't care how smart, they say he is, some days that kids got no sense."

Angela chuckles, turning to walk back into the kitchen.

"Yeah. It's going to get him into some major trouble someday." She sighs deeply, rubbing her arms as all her worry starts seeping back to the forefront of her mind. Her best friend is in trouble now, Hodgins and Booth roaring down to join it. And she's helpless to do anything about it. Remembering Zack's warning of high stress, she tries to shake the dark thoughts away, turning to Hank with her signature wide toothy smile.

A smile that doesn't reach her tired and troubled eyes, Hank notes, following her into the cavernous kitchen. He doesn't sit at the island, but stands, hands in pockets and watching her as she starts cleaning the tiny mess she made earlier with her toast.

"Are you hungry? I was trying to be good and settle for toast, but now waffles are sounding really good. My dad sent me some of his homemade blackberry syrup; its indescribably delicious. He hardly ever makes it. Not good for his tough Texas-man image, you know?"

As she passes by, Hank hooks a hand onto her elbow, stopping her bustling around and cutting off her bubbly ramble. He gives her a fond smirk, his no nonsense eyes starring straight into hers. "I love ya, sweetheart, but let's cut the crap. You always have the scoop, so tell me. What's wrong with Tempe that's got Seeley springing down there like a bat out of hell?"

Angela's eyes go wide, shocked and slightly pissed at Booth. "He didn't tell you?"

"That bad?" Hanks says softly, shaking his head. "All he said was that he was going down there to get her. That he's going to bring her back home."

Angela's vision blurs, moisture suddenly filling her eyes. Her breath hitches in her chest. Its all too much for her to fight. Not since she was eighteen has she spent a night without Jack by her side. And to have him gone while they're expecting their first baby, traveling to an unstable country with their close friend to find her missing best friend…it was the longest night of her life. Two tears spill down her cheeks and the dam holding in all of her anxiety and fear crumbles. She shudders once and covers her face as she starts to weep.

"Hey, now." Hank's concern sky rockets as he leads the sobbing young woman to a kitchen stool. He's never seen the artist break down like this before. "What's wrong? Did Temperance get bitten by something? She catch some sickness? What?"

"She's…" Angela hiccups, bringing her puffing eyes to his. "Oh Hank, she's missing!"

"Missing? Like she went into the jungle and lost her way?" Hank weakly smirks, his face drawn with worry. "I don't think so. Not Temperance."

Angela shakes her head, wiping at her streaming eyes and missing how Hank's breathing has suddenly changed. "No, her site was attacked. Some people got shot but they…they don't know what happened to her."

"Seeley flew down there to find her," Hanks says softly, his words broken by strangled breaths. He sinks onto a stool, smoothing a shaking hand over his dry mouth. "to bring her back. Seeley went to find Tempe. God. My kids."

Angela finally looks at Hank and her tears stop in a stuttered heartbeat. The aged man is white as a sheet, sweat beading on his forehead, his breathes short and labored. With horror she watches him raised a shaky hand to his chest, clutching at his shirt. "Hank?"

"My kids," he pants and grunts, leaning down to place his forehead on the cool counter of the kitchen island. Angela has already jumped for the phone, now holding it to her ear, tears streaming down her face once again as she rushes back to Hank.

"Hang on, Hank. Breathe, ok? Hello? I need an ambulance! My grandfather is having a heart attack!"

…

Booth spasms violently as he wakes, his breath stuttering out in wheezing gasps. He experiences a moment of disorientation, blinking rapidly as he tries desperately to align his thoughts. Why is he on his back in the dark instead of running through the thick jungle, sunlight streaming through the leaves just enough to highlight the gore of blood on the ground. Why are his ears echoing with silence and not ringing with the gut-wrenching sound of Bones calling his name? With a slow shuddering breath, he realizes: it was a dream, all just a horrific dream.

He sits up slowly, as if aged well beyond his years, afraid if he moves too fast his tenuous hold on reality will shatter and he'll bolt blindly into the jungle. That wont help Bones, he scolds himself, she needs him to stay focused and controlled. He wipes the cold sweat from his face, clenching the droplets tightly in his fist, as if they contained all the horrible images from his nightmare.

The tent is almost pitch black, day break still a few hours away. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but he knows he had laid awake until the hours had faded into the next day, so he knows he didn't sleep for long. His body aches with tiredness, a sensation he's all too familiar with from the Army, but he doubts trying to sleep again would be successful. He decides he'll attempt to expel his anxiety with a walk around the sleeping camp. And if he happens to run into Stires, all the better. Having not bothered to undress earlier, Booth simple swings his feet to the ground, or tries to.

"Ow!"

"What the hell!" Booth clicks on the small battery-operated lantern by the cot, still kicking at the mound on the floor until the light illuminates a curly head. "Hodgins?!"

"The fuck, man!" Jack grouses, scooting away from the agent's feet. He squints in response to the bright light, somewhat lessening the affect of his scowl. "you crushed my hand!"

Booth ignores this. "Why the hell are you on the floor?"

"Well, its not like everyone was throwing open their tents after your little 'discussion' with Stires." Hodgins stops nursing his throbbing hand, concern falling over his tired face as he truly looks at his friend. "Hey, man, you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Bad dream," Booth tries to wave his concern away, but he again hears Brennan's terrified scream from his dream echo in his head. He surrenders to a shudder, bowing his head and leaning his arms heavily on his thighs. "A really fucked up dream."

"Yeah," Jack sighs, feeling awkward.

How can he comfort his friend? He doesn't want to make false assurances, to give empty hope. Back in DC he was confident that they'd bring Brennan back, a little banged up surely, but alive. But now that he's experienced the climate, both physical and political, Hodgins fears they may already be too late. His mental fumbling is interrupted by Booth's deep sigh. He looks up, watching the agent scrub at his face with both hands.

"I'm…" Booth laughs mirthlessly. "Shit. I've been shot at, tortured. I've seen people, friends, die right in front of me. But I don't know that I've ever been this…."

He releases another deep breath, looking into his friend's eyes apologetically. "Look, Jack, I know that I've been an asshole to you during this trip."

"Have you? I didn't notice a difference," Hodgins jokes, smiling weakly. His stomach burns with guilt and shame. He doesn't want Booth's apology, not with his unvoiced doubts trying to burst out of his mouth. "We're cool, man. Forget it."

Booth's voice is quiet but firm, his eyes boring into Jack's. "No. I won't."

"Don't…don't do that."

Hodgins rises from the ground, pacing as what space is available in the tent. He can feel the weight of Booth's gratitude and the fear for Brennan pushing on his shoulders. His chest constricts painfully as he realizes his mistake. He shouldn't have come, he's not going to be able to keep Booth from breaking and probably help the destruction himself. Because the decreasing probability of finding Brennan is pounding in his head and the scientist in him can't keep it to himself any longer.

"Oh man. Ok. Booth…Bren…shit. Listen-Bren is strong, but…"

As he looks over Jack stills, the words evaporate from his tongue. He's seen booth angry, scared and worried. He was there when Booth said goodbye as Jared shipped out the first time. He was present during the pain of Elizabeth's death. But in all the years he's never seen the man's eyes so dark, his face so grim and aged beyond his 28 years. But still it is a look he's seen before, just on a different Booth. Hank had this look when Elizabeth's health took that last downward turn, when he realized he was soon going to be separated from his wife, his soulmate. Jack just stares, unable to finish what he had started to say. But quietly, with an aching steadiness that both impresses Jack and makes his stomach twist painfully, Booth does it for him.

"She might already be dead." Booth nods, his hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles turning white. "I was special forces, a sniper. I'm a cop, Jack. You think I haven't done the math? Odds are…I've already lost her. But until I know, until it's fact- "

"Yeah, I get it Seeley," Hodgins interrupts softly, his voice thick with apology and anguish.

Booth looks down at his hands, slowly unclenching his fist, feeling the blood rush back into his fingers. "I'm not leaving without her."

"I'm…I'm with you. Whatever happens."

The heavy silence between the men is broken by a series of pops sounding from the jungle. Hodgins jumps and Booth races out of the tent.

"Are those gun shots?" Jack asks, following Booth to the edge of the clearing, where the Thin Man is standing, staring out into the thick darkness. "They don't sound too loud. How close do you think they are? What do you think is going on?"

"Classified, amigo," Thin Man smirks. He leans towards Booth, though his eyes never leave the direction of the shots for more than a blink. "No more sleep. When the bullets slow, we move. I think our welcome here is over."

…

"Wake."

A soft nudge.

"Wake."

A harder nudge this time.

Brennan groans, turning her head away from the nudging at her shoulder. Her body aches, her ankle is starting to throb and there is a fire of thirst building in her throat. But she clings to sleep, to its emptiness; sleep is safe.

"Drink, Temperance. Wake. Drink."

It's not the nudging or the promise of something to drink that finally has her abandoning the secureness of sleep, but the utterance of her first name spoken in a heavily accented female voice. Fear washes over her as consciousness returns, and reflexively she tires to bolt into a full sitting position. Pain radiates from her ankle at the sudden movement, ripping a gasp from the desert of her throat.

"Calmate. Safe," the woman quickly places her hands on Brennan's shoulders to ease Brennan back onto the slightly tilted bed. Both her voice and the pressure of her hands are light and steady, her face never shifting its stoic expression. "Safe."

Hungry, hurting and desperately thirsty, Brennan has little choice but to settle back to her previous position, resting her head on a firm pillow. She tries to quickly absorb her surroundings as the woman turns away slightly. She appears to be in a small tent, not that dissimilar from the one she has been sleeping in for the past weeks. However, this one is filled with simple medical supplies: boxes of bandages, a small cabinet in the corner filled with an assortment of bottles, a few metal IV stands and another small cot that must be a twin of the one she's currently occupying.

The woman turns back, a small cup in her hand that she extends to Brennan. "Water. Drink."

Brennan takes it, just holding the cup for a moment as she eyes the woman. She's looks just barely out of her teens, everything about her appearing youthful. Except for the gun holstered on her hip and her eyes; both radiated a warning that despite the number of years she has lived, she is no child. Flickering her narrowed gaze between the gun and the deep dark eyes, Brennan slowly brings the cup up to her lips. As soon as the first cool drop touches her tongue, Brennan's focus narrows to include only the cup and its glorious contents. Greedily she drinks, moaning lustily at the crisp coolness, the refreshing wetness that fills her mouth. All too soon the cup is empty and Brennan takes gasping breathes, clutching the cup to her breasts.

After a moment she looks at the girl, blushing in embarrassment at her small smirk. But her throat is still begging to be quenched, so Brennan holds out the cup. "More, please."

For a second Brennan's afraid her request will be denied, but the girl takes the cup and turns to fill it again, her lips still slightly curved in amusement. Now that her desperate need for water has been somewhat addressed, she suddenly has room to worry about another issue within her body. Her unborn baby. Eyes wide, she places a hand over her womb, shaken that she could have forgotten her little treasure for even a moment. Her throat clenches tight as she remembers the abuse her body has gone through since discovering the traitorous soldier, though she's still unsure how long ago that was. If she has suffered too much, she knows her body will abort the pregnancy in order to save resources for recovery. While her rational, scientific mind understands the necessity of such an event, her heart aches at the thought.

The girl turns back around and Brennan blinks rapidly to dispel any hint of her anxiety. She must have failed because the girl tilts her head, looking to where Brennan's hand rests with a sharp gaze. She hands Brennan the cup and then briskly walks to the small medicine cabinet, returning with a small white bottle. She holds the bottle out to Brennan, allowing her to read the contents: ibuprofen.

"For pain. Ok?" the girl asks, again looking down at where Brennan's hand still rests on her lower belly.

Temperance wonders if the girl assumes she's having menstrual cramps. Not that it matters, she gratefully holds out her for the pills. Even though its bandaged and elevated by pillows, her ankle still aches.

"Thank you."

Heavy footfalls sound outside the tent, both women snapping their gazes over to the entrance. Brennan attempts to push herself into a high sitting position as the tent opens to reveal a large man. Everything about him screams soldier: from his attire, including a gun comfortably at his hip, to his posture, to his dark eyes that quickly take in every detail of the tent in an instant. Having had enough exposure to soldiers during the last few days, Brennan's entire body tenses, eyeing the strange man suspiciously. He stands a few paces away from her cot, a smile transforming his face as he looks at her.

"Catalina," his deep voice breaks the silence, turning his attention to the girl.

Brennan doesn't relax as they speak rapidly in Spanish above her; she still has no idea who these people are or what they want with her. With a shot of panic, she realizes the girl, Catalina, is walking out of the tent, leaving her alone with the man. Hiding a grimace, Brennan forces herself back until she's almost fully sitting up. The man still hasn't moved, once again scanning her with a smile, not that it sets Brennan at ease at all. Though she is watching him closely, she still jerks in surprise when he speaks.

"Are you going to beat me with that little cup if I sit down, Temperance?"

"That depends on where you sit," she answers almost without thought, rather shocked at the clearness of his English and his casual use of her name.

The man chuckles, walking to sit on the edge of the other cot. He rests his elbows on his legs, relaxing his posture in hopes to set her at ease. "There will be no need for such violent actions, I promise you. You will not be harmed with us. You are safe."

Reluctantly Brennan eases her hold on her only weapon, pathetic as it is, taking another greedy gulp of water. The man just watches her patiently.

"Who are you?" she finally blurts out, desperately wanting to understand the events she's suffered through, to make sense of her circumstances. "How do you know my name? Where are we? Why should I believe I'm safe with you?"

"My name is Coralilo," the man says this with weight, as if its supposed to be significant to her, and then waits, staring at her.

For a long moment, Brennan just stares back, confusion still obvious in her eyes. The man smiles again and Brennan has the irrational urge to punch it off his face.

"You've answered one question," she frowns, her tone biting. "Insufficiently I should point out. How about the rest?"

Coralilo tilts his head, regarding her with interest. Quietly, watching her reaction, he speaks. "You're safe with us because I owe Seeley a favor."

Brennan's body jerks violently, what's left of the water spilling out of the cup and onto her lap. She did not expect that answer. Her mind is spinning, her breath clogging in her chest. Seeley? How does this man know that name? Is it the truth, does Booth have some kind of connection with this dangerous looking man? What did he do to earn this kind of favor, does she even want to know?

In vain, she tries to swipe the split water off before it can soak through the thin blanket. She's mortified to feel her eyes brimming with tears, clenching her jaw tightly to try and beat them back. Booth knows she was taken, he was worried enough to reach out to someone he has tried to leave in his past. He has put his job, or worse, at risk because of her. Is he sitting in their apartment now, thinking of her, deep grooves set in his face like she had seen when his grandmother was in the hospital? Now that she's found, is he on his way? Is he still fearing for her life? Her thoughts rapidly jump from one unanswerable question to another until everything is just a booming word- BOOTH.

"Easy, Temperance." Coralilo is standing next to her, holding a refilled cup, a strange look in his eyes. She takes a deep breath in, accepting the cup and collecting herself. Coralilo can't hold back an intrigued smirk as her piercing blue-grey eyes lock on to him.

"Does he know you have me here?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet. I will get word to him soon."

Brennan's heart starts to pound, her muscles tensing as he approaches. He moves slowly, as one would when faced with a stray animal. He's not smiling now.

"But first, I need your help."

I'm back!

Again

So I actually have almost 3 more chapters already written and have the rest outlined. Its flowing pretty well right now, which is great! My plan is to not post anymore until I have the complete story done, and then do a spree post (like one every hour). I don't foresee that being too far in the future. I think its safe to say this will be done before 2019

I'll give an explanation on why this has taken YEARS to finish in an authors note when the story is complete. But I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who has read this story, commented on this story or sent me a PM during my hiatus. I wasn't in a good place to reply (though I swear I always intended to), but I read them all and felt so grateful.

I hope everyone enjoys the rest of this adventure. I'll see ya next time