Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! I always enjoy seeing what you guys think. Alot of you said you were eagerly awaiting this update since the last chapter ended witha cliffhanger...well, let's just say that if that cliffhanger bothered you, you're probably going to be flat out pissed over how this chapter ends. :-) Some of you know who did it by now, and those of you who don't are about to find out...I was thinking about making Zach the killer for a while, but I changed my mind ;-) Anyway, sorry for typos and such, hope you enjoy this one...
Before Booth was even able to open his eyes, his brain registered the sharp pain of the swollen lump that had formed on the back of his head. He groaned in pain, unable to stop the sound from emanating from him. The agony of the pounding in his brain when he moved was severe enough to make him want to retch on the floor, and so he held himself perfectly still, praying for the piercing ache to subside. It ebbed, slowly, and eventually Booth found that he was able to open his eyes.
His senses slowly returned, and Booth was soon able to realize that he was limply pressed against a cool concrete floor that was covered in large stains that were a mixture of yellows, browns, and black. The odor of the room reached his nostrils then, and Booth swallowed a shallow gulp of the stagnant air. The stench was a mixture of gasoline and stale motor oil, combined ever so subtly with the scent of burnt rubber and heat. 'A garage,' his brain registered. 'I'm in some kind of auto shop or garage.'
Booth allowed his eyes to scan the room then. It was not a large space, and on the far side of the room Booth saw a staircase that led up to another level. He took another deep breath and detected the rich aroma of dirt—the garage was underground, or at least partially underground. On the side of the room opposite the staircase, Booth saw a small door that appeared to be a service entrance. In the dim light of the room, Booth could just make out the outline of a concrete staircase that lead from the door way to the ground level above. Directly over Booth's head was what appeared to be a portion of the ceiling that could move. After a moment's contemplation, Booth registered that this must be how the vehicles in need of repair were lowered into the room. The room itself was cluttered haphazardly with random tools and equipment. Although it looked like a fairly ordinary shop, Booth noted that most of the tools seemed to be old or broken; apparently the shop was one that wasn't used all that often.
He tried to move, but found that he was unable due to the bindings that were securely wrapped, tied, and tapped around his wrists and ankles. He struggled for a brief moment, but the soreness of his body from lying in the unnatural position coupled with the pounding staccato beat in his head soon caused his movements to cease.
It was then that Booth glanced over and saw that he was not alone in the dirty room. Lying a short distance away from him, bruised and also bound, Booth saw the form of a woman. The room was somewhat lit, though not brightly, and for a moment Booth's fogged brain couldn't quite make out who he was seeing. His first thought was that it was Bones, but after a closer inspection he noted that the form slumped on the floor wasn't his partner. A few moments later the sight clicked into place in his thoughts and Booth realized that he was staring at the unconscious, possibly dead, form of Abby Stevenson.
Temperance walked into the hotel parking lot at 4:53am. After she had left the note for Angela, she had realized that looking for a girl who was more than likely being held in a concealed area in a car was impractical, and she had decided to search on foot instead. Her search had not yielded any results, and after consulting her watch, she decided that she should head back to the hotel before Hodgins, Angela, and Booth missed her. She was, therefore, very surprised when, upon arriving in the parking lot, she was greeting by Hodgins and Angela, both of whom lunged toward her, demanding to know if she was alright, and asking where Booth was.
When Temperance responded that she had no idea where Booth was, she was met with two confused and worried stares. Hodgins and Angela then proceeded to explain what had happened, about finding her note, about seeing that the car wasn't missing, and about organizing a makeshift search team to find and rescue her. The three tried to call Booth then, to explain that it everything was fine, to state that Temperance was back, but when the phone was answered they were not met with Booth's voice. They were, in fact, not answered by any voice; whoever answered on the other end of line said nothing and hung up only a few seconds after answering.
It was then that Temperance became worried. "Something happened to him," she said.
"How do you know that?" Angela asked, though her voice sounded as though she didn't entire disagree with Temperance's statement.
Temperance just shook her head, and Angela and Hodgins didn't push. Both of them felt the same nagging fear; all was not well.
"We need to go look for him," Temperance stated.
And so, much as they had when they thought Temperance had fallen prey to the killer, the three squints worked out a quick plan to find Booth. Temperance took Angela's cell phone since hers had died, explaining why Angela had been unable to reach her, and since Hodgins and Angela already wore the protection of vests, they gave Temperance the gun. The group split up and went their separate ways again, searching for the AWOL FBI agent.
Booth struggled to workthe bindins loose from his handsas his eyes remained glued to Abby's unmoving form. He prayed for the young girl to be alright as he attempted to work his way free, but after a few long minutes he found that he was trapped. Whoever had tied him up had done a good job; the restraints held just as tightly as they had when Booth had first woken up.
Booth stopped struggling for a moment and focused his attention fully on the girl on the ground near him. 'She's so young,' he thought. He felt anger rise in him at whoever had done this. This was a young girl, a child, who was having her life taken from her. Booth suddenly began to struggle again as the righteous indignation rose in his chest. 'The bastard won't get away with it this time,' he vowed. He continued to struggle until he finally felt the sticky warmth of his own blood leak from where the restrains were straining against his fighting hands and wrists. He didn't feel the pain as he continued to strain and struggle. Outside, he was able to perceive the heavy sound of fat raindrops as the sky finally broke open, bathing the island in heavy rain.
He thought of Temperance then. 'Bones,' his brain said, as if she could actually hear him. 'I'm sorry.' He realized then that she was still out there somewhere, possibly at the hands of the monster as he lay there, and he began to struggle harder. Images of Temperance echoed through his brain. Temperance in the lab, her eyes intensely studying a set of remains. Temperance in her office, fighting with him and then almost kissing him. Temperance in the passenger seat of his SUV, pouting because he wouldn't let her drive. Temperance standing in the doorway of her apartment, looking at him with disdain on the morning when he had woken her up to go recover the last of the bodies from the Lambert case. Temperance's expression after he kissed her for the first time in the hotel parking lot. Temperance sleeping, her face peaceful and angelic. Temperance in his room, the first and only night they were together. He smiled faintly as he recalled their trip to the movies. He remembered how she laughed, free of self-consciousness, her eyes lighting up like a child's. His heart broke when he remembered that she could be in pain right now, or worse, dead. 'I'm sorry, Bones,' he thought again as he continued to struggle with his restraints.
Booth's eyes roved over the limp form of Abby once again. In the dim light, he wasn't sure of she was breathing. He silently prayed that she would move, or groan, or cough, or do anything that would assure him that she was still alive, that there was still hope. The girl's body didn't flinch.
Booth's thoughts moved to Parker. What would happen to his son if he was unable to get free? 'Don't think that,' his brain demanded, but Booth found that he was unable to obey his own order. He fought harder with the materials that sliced his wrists; he had to get free. Parker needed a Daddy; if for no other reason, he had to survive for his son.
Booth heard footsteps on the concrete then. His eyes moved to the service door. It was open slightly, and Booth realized that either the door was not alarmed or the alarm had been broken or overridden. He found harder with his wrists as he saw the outline of a person come into focus.
"Anything yet?" Temperance asked into the cell phone.
"No," was Hodgins' flat reply. The three squints were growing desperate; despite their numerous attempts, they were still unable to reach Booth. His phone was ringing, so they knew it had service and a working battery, but no one answered it when it rang. It was now 5:33am; they had been searching for over a half hour.
'God, Booth, where are you?' Temperance mentally demanded as she ran. She mentally berated him for searching for her in the first place. If he had stayed at the hotel, none of this would be happening. She then cursed herself. If she had stayed in the hotel, none of this would be happening, either. She felt her ragged breathing, and she knew she needed to slow down to swallow some air, but she ran through the need for oxygen. She refused to stop just because she need to breath. Her thoughts were completely on Booth as she ran and searched.
As Temperance ran, the sky opened up, and a heavy rain began to cascade down from the heavens.
Booth stopped struggling when the man fully entered the room. He looked vaguely familiar, thought at first Booth wasn't sure why. He was a heavy set man, probably in his forties, with thinning hair and a deranged look in his eyes. He ignored Booth at first and leaned over Abby, studying her.
"Wake up, Sweetheart, it's me," the man cooed. His effeminate voice made Booth's stomach turn, and he shifted slightly.
Booth's motion caused the man to look over at him, as if he had forgotten that the FBI agent was there. When his face turned completely to meet Booth's, the man's identity clicked into place in Booth's brain.
"Excuse me, miss? I think you dropped this..."
Booth stared at the man, bile rising in his throat, as he remembered. The guy from the coffeehouse parking lot…the guy with the five dollar bill…Booth began to struggle again, and the man's deranged face watched him curiously.
As the man watched Booth, Abby moaned from her position on the floor. Booth's eyes were on her instantly. She was alive! However, when Booth saw the expression in the man's manic eyes, he suddenly wondered if this was a good thing.
The man was at Abby's side in an instant. "It's me, honey. It's alright," he cooed. Abby only released a terrified, strangled cry in response.
"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Booth shouted, his rage exploding as he fought with the restraints.
The man eyed him strangely, as if Booth were the one who was crazy. "I'm not leaving her," he said. "We're going to be together."
Booth stared at the man in horrified shock, realizing that he was staring into the eyes of a truly deranged and insane man. "You're a murderer," Booth fired back. He saw anger flash in the killer's eyes. 'Good,' his brain urged. 'Make him focus on you. Make him leave her alone until you can get free to help her.'
"You're trying to keep us apart," the man said, his voice chillingly smooth and calm. "You're trying to keep her from loving me."
"You're a monster!" Booth spat back.
"I'm not a monster," the man said, his voice still at an even pitch. "I'm saving her. I'm taking her away because I love her and because we are going to be together." The man rested his hands on the girl's upper arm, and she whimpered in terror.
Abby was now turned so that Booth could see her eyes. They seemed to plead with him for help, and Booth was suddenly at a loss, realizing his uselessness. Unless he could get free, chances were they both were going to die. He tried to distract the man some more, trying to buy more time as he fought with the material around his wrists.
"If you loved her, you'd let her go," Booth said. He tried to keep his voice calm as well. Perhaps if he appealed to the sick man's sense of deranged reason, he could help the young girl.
The man rose from his crouched position beside Abby, staring at Booth. "You got in the way," he said, his voice showing the first traces of anger.
Booth fought harder with his wrists. "Just let her go. Untie her so she can go with you."
The man continued to stare at Booth as if he hadn't heard his words. "I was going to take her away, and then messed it all up. You came between us."
"If you love her, you'll untie her so she can be with you," Booth almost begged.
The man reached his hand around his back and pulled the gun he had taken from Booth out from where he had been holding it in the waistband of his pants. "We were going to leave together the other day. But you stood there and got in the way. You made me wait."
Booth eyed the gun, his gun. It was loaded. "Let her break up with her boyfriend so she can leave with you. If you let her break up with him, no one will get in your way anymore and you can be together."
"He never loved her," the man snarled as he began to advance toward Booth. "And neither do you. You want to hurt her. You're trying to keep her away from me."
"I'm trying to help you!" Booth replied. "Listen to me and you two can go live a happy life together!"
The deranged man's face was now contorted with sudden violent anger. He nearly growled as he stared at Booth, and Booth heard Abby release another gasp of a terrified sob. At the sound, the killer froze, turn to face her. When Abby saw his face, she involuntarily sobbed again, her body unconsciously curling into a fetal position. The man regarded her for a moment, and then turned back to Booth. The look in his eyes terrified the grown FBI agent.
"You've made her afraid of me. You've upset her. I can't let you hurt her!"
The man advanced slightly closer toward Booth, and Booth heard Abby's plaintive cry of, "no! Please, stop!" from her position on the floor.
The killer froze, and he eyed his two captives. Finally, his eyes settled on Booth. "You made her stop loving me." His voice was chilling. "You turned her against me. I can't let you get in the way anymore. I have to save her from you!" The man thrust the gun forward, pressing the barrel to Booth's temple.
"No!" Abby screamed. "Don't!"
The man's voice was angry now. "She doesn't love me because of you! She's just like the others!" He snapped his head, his eyes leveling with Abby's. "Whore!" he shouted. He turned back to Booth. "Now, it's over. Now I kill you both for destroying our love!"
The man's face was deranged. He laughed slightly, his hands almost shaking, as he stood with the barrel of gun still firmly pressed to Booth's temple.
'Abby…Temperance…Parker…I'm sorry,' were Booth's last thoughts before the deafening blast of a gunshot reverberated through his ears.
And that, children, is what is known as a "cliffhanger"
