Disclaimer: Don't own Bones. All the characters and places etc. belong to the cast and crew, and Kathy Reichs.

CHAPTER 7:

Special Agent Rod Walton stumbled up to the unfamiliar glass doors, a shaking, blood stained hand clamped to his side. He cursed himself for not noticing Clapham and Wallis acting strangely on the way to the holding cell.

He had searched the suspect, again, just to check the guards hadn't missed anything on the way in, but the attorney…well, he hadn't seen the point. Big mistake.

And he had just stared dumbly at the knife, not even trying to defend himself, only half registering it. But that didn't make the pain any less real, as his flesh was sliced like paper and blood soaked into his shirt, a hand over his mouth so he couldn't even scream…

It had taken him hours to regain consciousness; he had no idea why they had left him alive, why nobody had seen it on the security cameras, and didn't care. Booth hadn't answered his phone, and nobody else he ran had heard from him. His forensic anthropologist was the only hope he had, but Rod didn't know her cell phone number, so he had dragged himself twelve blocks to the museum where she worked, almost passing out again from the pain.

As he put a hand on the door handle, breathing slowly as black spots danced before his eyes, the door slammed open into him. His weak knees gave way and he fell heavily, losing grip on his side, fingers too slippery with blood. Pain jolted through his system and blood filled his mouth as he bit down hard on his tongue. The person who had nearly run him over looked vaguely familiar through eyes blurred with tears of pain, and as he blinked rapidly, she came into sharper focus.

'Dr. Brennan?' He croaked as she hurried past, and the woman turned, looking down at him as if she was surprised to see him on the floor. Then her eyes flicked to the hand clutching his ribs.

'What happened?' She asked quickly, dropping to her knees beside him, digging in the pocket of her blue lab coat. 'What's your name?'

She took the hand out of her pocket empty, and she almost stood up, seemingly torn between staying with him or finding a phone, as well as glancing worriedly towards her car.

'Special Agent Rod Walton.' He finally managed to gasp. 'I'm looking for Booth.'

She froze, her red-brown hair covering her face, masking her expression. 'You know what happened to Booth?'

'I have to find him.' Rod struggled to sit up, pain throbbing from the knife wound. 'Clapham and Wallis attacked me on the way to the cell-'

'Wallis?' Brennan interrupted. 'The attorney?' She sounded as surprised as he had felt.

'He's on his side.' Rod explained. 'I have to find Booth.'

Tempe hesitated. She didn't know this man who claimed to be acquainted with Booth; he had arrived after she left the interview. But he seemed to be telling the truth about the attack, from the blood pooling around him, and she really didn't have time to waste. Anything could be happening to Parker – and Booth.

'I have an idea where he is…' She pulled the map from her lab coat pocket. 'Clapham should be taking Parker to one of these buildings…'

'Who?' Rod interrupted.

'…Booth's son.' Tempe swallowed. 'He…I'm going to find him.'

'I'm coming with you.' Said Rod. And Brennan just nodded.

BBBBBBBBBB

Booth screeched to a halt outside Clapham's building, leaving dark skid marks on the road and pavement, but he didn't notice. He was out of the SUV before it had stopped, pelting through the doors and up the stairs three at a time.

He didn't bother to knock, simply threw himself at the door of 147. It crashed open under his weight, and Booth stumbled into the dark apartment, drawing his gun at the same time.

He crept through the main room, not because he didn't want to be discovered – anyone could have heard him coming through the door – but because he wanted to be able to hear if Clapham tried to escape. His cell phone buzzing in his jacket pocket pretty much ruined the effect.

He dug in his pocket and flipped open his phone, seeing the screen flash up Bones' name, feeling a surge of relief it wasn't Clapham again. He almost cancelled the call; he didn't want anyone persuading him to be 'careful', not when Parker's life was at stake. But there was always a chance she knew something important, and he could really use a familiar voice.

'What?' He said, snapping unintentionally.

'Booth?' It wasn't Bones, and it took a moment to recognise the voice at the other end.

'Angela? Where's Bones?'

'…she isn't with you?' She sounded scared.

'Should she be?' Booth began to feel worried as well. 'What happened?'

'She took off right after you called, she looked really worried, even left her cell. What's going on?'

Booth slowly opened his mouth to explain, when a pain exploded in the back of his head and he let out an involuntary yell of pain, dropping his gun and the phone, crumpling to his knees and then onto his front. He vaguely registered a dark shape move across his vision, as something wet trickled down the back of his neck and into his collar, before whoever it was struck him again and he knew no more.