A/N: Another chapter of drama. Sorry guys. =] But fear not, our heroes will be reunited soon. And again, thanks to everyone who's reading this. =]
And by the way, who else loved the premiere? I honestly *SPOILER! SPOILER! SPOILER!* was a little disappointed by the reunion. I wanted them to at least have a long, romantic hug, not just a one arm thing, but hey, these things take time. I'm also really hoping they're not going to make Angela lose the baby, because, for some reason, I foresee it taking that route. *END OF SPOILERS* so yeah, but other than that, I loved it 3
Chapter Forty-Eight:
"What The Hell Is Taking So Long?"
Brennan knew she'd been down in the basement for quite some time, but she wasn't entirely sure of how long it had actually been. It was always dark, freezing cold, and she had no watch or cell phone, so she had no way of knowing how much time had passed. The only indication she had was when one, or both, of the two men would come down to either torture her, or give her food. There was no pattern between the two, so she wasn't sure how to feel when she heard the door on the top of the stairs open each time it did.
It was a few hours after the two men had left her down there after they broke the news to her about Booth, that she heard the door finally open again. It felt like she'd been down there, sobbing for hours by herself, so when the door opened, she prayed that it was someone coming to save her, even though she knew that the chances were slim. She felt a tall man hovering over her, but she only remained laying on her side, her eyes focused on the concrete wall in front of her.
"You still haven't moved?" The same voice from the parking lot at the diner filled the silent room, making anger rise in the doctor's chest, "Come on now, Doctor Brennan, you can do much better than that neanderthal FBI agent."
"Go to hell," Brennan's voice was low, but sharp, when he spoke about Booth.
"I'm being completely serious," Garcia said innocently, "you're smart, successful, well off, yet, you chose to be with an idiot, who lives in a little apartment and barely makes enough money to support himself and his kid. But you saw past all of that, didn't you?"
"Shut up," Brennan growled, tears stinging her eyes.
"Yes, you did," Garcia answered for her, "because it was more than just hot sex. You loved him. You're thinking about him right now. You're always thinking about him. It's all that's on your mind. Tell me, Doctor Brennan. Tell me how he touched you. Tell me how he kissed you, and made love to you. Describe it to me."
"No," Brennan hissed at his perverted request.
There wasn't a chance in hell that she was going to describe she and Booth's love making to this low life pervert. The one who took him from her. The one who made it set in stone that she would never be able to experience it again, since she knew for a fact, even if she did make it out of there alive, she would never be able to fall in love with anyone the way she had with Booth. It was painful to think about the going the rest of her life with a man who was second best. Maybe she'd never be monogamous now. Maybe she'd spend forever just satisfying biological urges with past partners, as opposed to breaking the laws of physics with someone she loved. Maybe she was just never meant to be happy.
"You're very difficult," he told her, his voice low and dark.
"I don't care."
"You're going to grow to care, Doctor Brennan."
Brennan knew it would piss him off when she didn't obey to his commands, but she had no idea exactly how much. That was the first time he'd hit her, and by the time his rampage was through, she had twice as many bruises as she did when she first awoke on the basement floor. He was strong, and his punches and kicks were painful, but he didn't care how badly he was hurting the fragile woman who was lying limp and helpless on her side, her hand never letting go of the St. Christopher medal as she took the abuse like it was nothing, biting her lip to hold in the yelps and whimpers of pain that rose in her chest. The attack was short lived, but, to Brennan, it felt like an eternity. If she was going to have to live like this, in a dirty cellar being physically abused everyday, then death didn't seem like such a bad deal. Maybe Booth got the good end of the stick on this one. At least his death was quick and painless.
Brennan was still recovering from the attack when she heard the door open again. She whimpered and sat up, despite the pain present in her rib cage, and slid back into a corner, feeling weak and helpless as she attempted to hide from the man coming down the stairs. She heard his footsteps nearing her, but she was trapped, as far back in the corner as she could get. The man stood in front of her, looking down at the woman who was inched into the dirty, spider web infested, corner of the basement, trembling like a scared puppy, and just laughed bitterly.
"You're getting what you deserve, Doctor," it was Villeda's voice to speak now, as he leaned down to place a chipped glass cup filled with tap water and slice of stale bread on the dirty ground, "here's dinner. Enjoy."
After she heard the man go back upstairs, she hesitantly picked up the bread, and nipped on the corner, wincing at the foul taste that filled her mouth. She attempted to wash it down with the water, but it tasted equally as bad. The food was repulsive, but she didn't have any other options at that point. It was either eat what they gave to her, or eat nothing.
After those two times, she never knew when she was about to get her dose of abuse, or her food for the half a day. She'd calculated it in her head, and figured they gave her two meals a day. The abuse, however, was random. She figured they must have just beat her whenever they felt like it, or when they were just bored. Since they seemed to enjoy it when she screamed in pain, she always tried her best not to show that they were hurting her, but, sometimes, it would just get to be too much, and the sounds would escape her throat, bringing them great satisfaction. It was like a game to them. They liked to see how much time it took before she yelped in pain, or screamed in agony.
Despite the fact that they seemed to thoroughly enjoy torturing her, it seemed to annoy them when she'd cry over Booth. They could always tell the difference whether she was crying in pain or crying in grief. When she cried in pain, it was sharp and piercing. But when she mourned the death of Booth, it was more haunting and drawn out, her sobs sounding deeper and her cries sounding more desperate than pained. Usually when the sudden wave of grief would crash over her, it would start with a hiccup, that progressed into deep, sobbing, breaths, usually followed by a long and drawn out hysterical moan of her partner's surname.
After a few beatings, she'd learned how to block it out. When she'd feel a forceful blow to her side, her eyes would lock on to the wall, and her mind would just shut down. Sometimes, she really thought that she'd fallen asleep, but she knew that wasn't the case. What she thought about in her trances varied. Sometimes it was childhood memories, such as ones of she, Russ, her mother, and her father, at Disney World, and sometimes it was memories of she and her friends. Most of the time, though, it was memories of her late partner. The memories were so vivid, sometimes, that they would scare her. She could practically feel his breath on her neck, smell the cologne and mint chewing gum mixed with his uniquely Booth scent, hear his voice in her ear. The hallucinations lulled her into serenity sometimes, not allowing her to come out of her trance until all the blows to her body ceased, and the men returned upstairs.
Sleep was limited and uncomfortable, mostly filled with nightmares when she finally did drift off. But she didn't need sleep. Sleep was just a way to pass the time down there. She barely spoke anymore either, not because she didn't want to, but she felt as if she couldn't. When the men would ask her things, she would remain silent, her mind shutting down the way it did when she was being hit.
It was only one day, after she woke up from a short slumber, that she realized why she couldn't let herself die in that old house. If she died, Mara Muerte would be getting what they wanted. They'd never be put to justice. But, if she lived, and somehow managed to escape, her side of the story would be heard. Her side, and Booth's side. She wouldn't let Booth's death be a mystery, that somehow got pushed off to the side as a cold case when there was no evidence. She'd get justice for her partner, and get him a proper funeral, one that he would have wanted. Not if, but when she got out of there.
"The whale will be returned to it's natural habitat shortly," the newscaster sounded peppy when she spoke about the beached whale, "back to you, Margaret."
"In other news, recently reported missing is world renowned forensic anthropologist and best selling author, Doctor Temperance Brennan. Brennan helps the FBI to identify bodies at the Jeffersonian institute, was last seen two nights ago and the Royal Diner in Washington D.C., and has not been heard from since. Reporters asked FBI Special Agent Tim Sullivan, a friend and co-worker of the doctor, if they think the disappearance has anything to do with her involvement in any FBI cases, but both he, and Doctor Camille Saroyan of the Jeffersonian, refused to comment on the matter. If you know anything about the abduction of Miss Brennan, please don't hesitate to call your local police."
Booth clicked off the small radio in his office once he was sure that word got out about Brennan's disappearance, and put his head back in his hands, letting out a long breath. He couldn't stop his mind from going to the worst possible scenarios when he wondered about where they took her, what they were doing to her. Had they killed her already? Or were they going to take their time? Were they beating her? Hurting her? Violating her? Just the thought of it caused him to clench his fists in anger. Unable to bear just waiting anymore, Booth pushed off of his desk and stood up, storming out of the Hoover building to go to the Jeffersonian.
When he reached the lab, he made sure all the 'squints' knew he was there, making his presence known by storming angrily through the lab until he found Hodgins, who was at his station, staring at the a piece of the note under his microscope.
"Hodgins," Booth clapped loudly next to his ear, causing him to jerk up and glare at the agent standing over his shoulder, "what did you find?"
"Nothing," Hodgins said, keeping his tone flat, since he was trying to be understanding, "I haven't found anything yet. If I did, I would have called."
"Well what the hell is taking so long?" Booth demanded, his voice echoing through the lab, causing a few heads to turn in his direction, "I gave you this stupid piece of paper two days ago! What have you been doing for the past forty eight hours?"
"Booth," Hodgins' tone was warning, but low, "I want to find Doctor Brennan too, but I don't think anything on this piece of paper is going to be of use. I've looked over it a hundred times, and-"
"Well then look over it a hundred and one times," Booth cut him off, his tone harsh, "and don't stop looking until Bones is back in this lab, do you hear me?"
Hodgins used every ounce of his self control not to stand up and deck the screaming FBI agent across the face, only to be assisted when Cam made her way hastily over to Hodgins' station, once she heard yelling in an all too familiar voice.
"Seeley," Cam's voice was sharp as her heels clicked hastily across the tile floor and to Hodgins' station, "Hodgins is trying his best here. We're all trying. I understand you're stressed, and mad, but do not come in here and harass my team."
"I'm not mad," Booth said flatly, disliking her choice in words, "I just want to find Bones. I need to know that she's okay."
"You're mad, Seeley," Cam assured him, "you're mad at Cullen for not letting you work on this case. You're mad at Mara Muerte for taking her, but most importantly, you're mad at yourself, because you feel like this is your fault, and it's not."
"I'm not mad," Booth responded simply, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.
"Go home, Seeley," Cam encouraged him, her tone softening, "get some rest."
"How am I supposed to 'rest' knowing that someone has my partner?" He asked, "Bones is my partner, Camille, and, I was supposed to be protecting her. I wasn't. Now the least I can do is find her. I need to make up for my mistake, and I'm not going to do anything until Bones is back here, in this lab."
"Well, I'm not letting you stay here," Cam crossed her arms over her chest, "I'm not going to let you harass Hodgins, and everyone else, because you're angry at yourself. If you're not going to go home, just go somewhere else."
"Are you kicking me out?" Booth asked, honestly surprised and taken back that Cam would kick him out of the lab under the circumstances.
"Yes, but it's for your own good," she assured him, "I've known you for too long, Seeley, and I know how you get. If you stay here, and frustrate yourself, you're going to do something."
"Why does nobody think I can control my emotions?"
"Because sometimes, you can't. Especially when it comes to saving the day."
"I'm not looking to be Superman, Camille. I just want to get Bones home."
"Standing here isn't going to help. Go home. You haven't slept in days."
Booth couldn't hide the fact that he was exhausted. It was showing all over his face. He hadn't shaved in days, and there were dark circles under his eyes, indicating that he had been running a long time on no sleep. It had been over twenty four hours since he last slept, and he was, without a doubt, feeling the side effects. When he turned to walk out the door, he stopped, turning to face Cam once more before he left.
"Camille?"
"Yes?"
Booth paused.
"Call me if you get anything."
Cam nodded and waved him off, watching as he left the lab and went back to his SUV to drive home and get some long awaited sleep.
Booth was in a deep, peaceful, sleep, for only a couple hours, before the sound of his phone ringing jerked him out of his rest. Sleepily, he reached over and felt around his night stand until he found his phone, picking it up and flipping it open.
"Booth," his voice was raspy when he answered the phone.
"Booth!" Sully's voice gave him a bit of a jolt, "I stopped by the Jeffersonian to see if anyone found anything, and Zach said something that reminded me that we didn't try one thing. I'm back at the Hoover now, and I've got the computer set up, so I need somebody to call her cell phone. Does she have it with her?"
"I doubt the kidnapper let her keep her cell phone," Booth rolled his eyes at Sully's question, "it was in her coat pocket though. If you track down the cell tower you might be able to get a general area."
"Alright, Johnson's calling now," there was a pause on the other end of the line, as Booth waited in anticipation for the results of what cell tower was closest to Brennan.
He could hear the faint sound of Brennan's voicemail through the phone, the sound of her voice, sweet and innocent, making his chest ache.
"Booth?" Sully asked, making sure he was still on the phone.
"Yeah? I'm here."
"I found her. The cell tower she's closest to is in a town right outside little El Salvador."
Booth didn't relax yet, since even though they knew where her cell phone was, there was still no guarantees that she was still alive. Regardless, he shrugged the comforter off his shoulders and dug through his dresser drawers to grab jeans and the first t-shirt he could find.
"I'll call you if we find out her exact location," Sully told him.
"Like hell you will," Booth's voice still sounded slightly sleepy, as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, "I'm coming with you."
