Okay, I'll put you all out of your misery. Well, nearly ;-)

Usual disclaimers apply, see previous chapters.

Brennan stared impatiently down at her phone. Where the hell was Ford?

When the phone finally rang, she jumped out of her skin. She hurriedly hit the answer button and held the phone to her ear. Nothing. Just faint scratching noises. "Hello? Hello?"

She looked down at the screen - the phone recorded an incoming call from Booth. She tried again, but still gained no response from the phone. She muttered a curse, supposing he'd dialed her accidentally. She disconnected, then tried calling Ford again.

"Who was it?" Chymes was crowding her, anxious to know what the call was about. She shook her head. "It was Booth, he must have hit the button by mist..."

Her voice trailed off, as she thought through her comment and realized that with Booth's flip-open phone it was more or less impossible to make calls accidentally. She hurriedly handed the phone over to Chymes. "When they answer, tell them it's urgent. Tell them to get a team down here right now. Something must be wrong. I'm going to check."

Chymes was almost bouncing on his feet. "What if you get hurt? What if he's hurt Mikey? Where are they?"

Brennan shook her head. "I don't know, but they can't be far away. Booth was checking the sheds out back. I'll try there first. You must keep trying to get the police. If they don't answer that call within a couple of minutes, dial 911. But I must go."

She was already at the door, and eased it open carefully, not revealing too much light as she exited the room. She half jogged round the back of the rooms, and saw the old garage standing there, a lean-to shed next to it. She hesitated between the two, then noticed the broken catch on the garage door. The door itself stood slightly ajar, and she eased it open silently. A few moments' pause produced no sound other than the sounds of the night around her, so she slipped into the garage and moved forward carefully. After a second or two her eyes adjusted to the level of light, and she became aware of a faint glow at the other end of the garage. This gave her both a goal and enough light to maneuver by, and a few strides brought her to the edge of a large wardrobe, round the corner of which was the light source.

She stood with her back to the wardrobe for a moment, controlling her breathing and making herself ready, then eased her view round the corner. What she saw made her heart stop. In one corner, next to a flickering lamp, was the boy from the diner, tied up tightly, with a gag round his mouth, and looking terrified. Just to one side of him stood Charlie, a wooden chair leg held threateningly above his head. And at his feet...

Brennan instantly sprang forward. If that blow met its target, it would shatter Booth's skull. Her mind conjured up pictures of skulls she had painstakingly pieced together. Booth's would not be one of them, she vowed.

Her movement and the shout that accompanied it attracted Charlie's attention, and the motel owner swung round. Now the chair leg was threatening her, but she didn't care. Fear for Booth propelled her forward towards Charlie and her foot met his hand, kicking the weapon out of his reach. Now he was unarmed. She stood motionless, feeling the beat of her heart, and braced herself for the attack. This was one fight she could not lose. As Charlie charged forward, she ducked under his fists and used his forward motion to knock him to the floor. He grunted as he made hard contact with the ground, and she balanced herself ready for his next attack. She was painfully aware of Booth lying on the ground behind her, but did not dare even glance in his direction until this battle was finished.

Charlie charged in again and managed to grab her round the neck. For a moment his superior weight gave him an advantage, but a hefty elbow in the ribs soon dealt with that. She grabbed his head and threw him over her shoulder, then landed heavily on top of him. He tried to roll over, and was reaching for the chair leg again. Brennan let him get halfway to his feet, then spun round, landing a powerful kick to the groin. Charlie collapsed to the ground, holding himself and screaming. Brennan bent over Booth, retrieved his handcuffs from his belt, and put them on Charlie, handcuffing the man to a convenient piece of furniture and ignoring his cries of distress. Only when she was sure the man was secure did she dare look closely at Booth.

The agent lay unconscious on the floor, bleeding heavily from a wound to his right temple. Brennan leant over him, listening carefully. His breathing seemed fairly steady, if somewhat shallow, and his pulse was faint but distinct. His right arm lay out from his body stiffly, and gentle probing with her fingertips revealed swelling indicative of fracture. She guessed that his arm had been thrown up to protect his head originally, thereby deflecting the first blow. His left hand was buried in his jacket pocket, and she found his phone in the pocket and switched it off, extremely grateful that he had been able to signal her in that way, and trembling at how near she had been to dismissing his call as an accidental dialing.

She heard groans from the other corner, and hurriedly moved to remove Mikey's gag and untie him. He rubbed his wrists, staring over at Booth. "Is he dead?"

She shook her head. "He's unconscious, but he's not dead. We just have to wait for help."

They heard the sound of sirens in the distance, and Brennan went to the garage door with Mikey, to find Chymes pacing outside looking anxious. "It's okay," she told him. "Mikey's okay, he's here."

Chymes rushed over and enveloped his son in a crushing hug.

"Dad!" protested the boy. "I'm okay." Brennan could see that despite his protests, he was enormously relieved to be reunited safely with his father.

"And Charlie?" Chymes looked at her over the top of the boy's head.

"He's secure." Brennan said no more but headed back inside to sit with Booth, who had not moved. Charlie threw curses at her from where he lay immobilised on the floor, but she ignored him, stemming the blow flow from Booth's head, gently stroking the side of his face, murmuring to him, willing and begging him to wake up. Even when the police walked into the garage and took Charlie away, then sent the ambulance crew in to fetch Booth, Brennan did not leave his side, and still he made no indication of waking up.

I thought it was about time we had Brennan rescuing Booth, instead of the other way around ;-)

Nearly finished! Thanks for all your comments and reviews - more always welcome.