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

And sorry about the cliff hangers, I hate them too, I just always end up writing too much. Plus I get more reviews :P

CHAPTER 8:

Booth slowly regained consciousness, for a moment wondering where he was. He was aware of a heavy silence, broken only by grunts of pain that he realised were coming from him. He shifted slightly, feeling something gritty through his jacket, like gravel or thick grains of sand. There was a strange taste in his mouth, metallic and tangy and warm.

Then the pain washed over him, and with it came the horrible memory of what had happened. His head began to throb with short jabs of pain, as he tried to sit up, putting a palm against his forehead. It was covered in something weet and sticky and suspiciously like blood.

Dammit. He scrabbled in his pockets, eyes shut to try to ward off the pain, looking for his phone. Then he remembered the phone call to Angela, dropping the cell as he passed out, and a thought struck him. Where was Clapham?

Reluctantly, Booth cracked his eyes open, only to find himself in pitch blackness. Blood trickled into his ear as he rolled over to push himself onto his knees, and he felt the liquid drip over his lips, but he ignored it, renewed determination flaring into life inside him. He had to save Parker. And, judging by Angela's worried tone, he had to save Bones.

Finally on his feet, swaying as his head spun, Booth dragged himself in what he hoped was a straight line, one hand stretched in front of him, the other searching for his gun. He wasn't surprised to find it gone - as well as the extra rounds of ammo, and the flip knife in his back pocket - but he still cursed Clapham with the small amount of breath he could catch.

After a few minutes he felt his hand hit the wall, causing his arm to jar, but the pain was nothing compared to the dull pounding in his head, and he wasted no time in feeling along it for an opening or light switch. He soon felt what seemed to be a metal handle, and he yanked it down, blinking as the light flickered into life far overhead.

Shielding his eyes with a hand, he squinted around at the room he was in. Weak electric lights, seemingly quite new, hung from beams on the high ceiling. Everything was grey with dust and smelt of oil and industry, and he realised he must be in a factory or mill of some kind. He traced one of the machines near him, sniffing the dust residue on his fingertips.

Bones would know what this was. He found himself thinking, and felt worry gnaw at his chest. Wherever they were, he would find Bones and Parker, and put a bullet in that psycho's head.

And then he heard it…

BBBBBBBBBB

Meanwhile…

Brennan floored the gas pedal, feeling the convertible rumble into life. Throwing a glance at Rod, who was slumped in the passenger seat, bleeding onto the leather and looking pale green, she slammed into gear and the car leapt into motion.

Studying the map in her hand as she screeched onto the road, she took a right and flew in the direction of the hospital, houses passing in a blur. She didn't know how Booth's FBI badge would help her if he wasn't in the car, so she just hoped very hard that she wouldn't get stopped.

She was heading for a steel mill, one of the buildings circled on the map, for no other reason than because it was the closest and she needed to save time if she was going to rescue Booth and Parker. Which she would, no question about it. Her mouth set in a determined line, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel, as Rod groaned beside her.

'You…drive like a …crazy person.' He muttered through gritted teeth, and she glanced over at him. He was huddled in the corner, a hand still clasping his side where the bad guys had stabbed him.

'I've been told.' She replied, almost smiling as she remembered Booth's views on her driving. Then she remembered that she was going to rescue him, and her smile turned into a worried frown. She bit her lip, hoping he was alright.

'How far…is it?'

'Not far.' She turned another corner, which took them out of he city and into a burial ground of old warehouses and factories. 'It should be one of these…'

A few minutes later they came to a halt in front of a very tall building, coated in a thin grey dust. A steel mill. She thought. This must be it.

Brennan jumped out of the car, running to Rod's side to help him out. She was having her doubts about him coming; his face got paler every step, but he fixed her with a glare as soon as she opened her mouth, as if he could tell what she was going to say.

She squeezed through the slightly open steel door and snapped on the light switch, Rod close to her elbow. The room had an incredibly high ceiling, and dust-coated machines she didn't recognise lined the walls. She took the sample of steel from her pocket just to make sure she was in the right place, matching it against the dust on one of the machines, and it looked the same, but she had no way to tell for definite.

They had taken a couple more steps, so they were in the centre of the room, and the eerie emptiness of the mill was closing in on her. Brennan shivered, wishing she had persuaded Booth to give her a gun, but soon steeled herself.

'Keep my back.' She ordered Rod, who gave her a confused look, but seemed to get what she meant and turned to keep a lookout behind them. Clapham had taken his gun, and he found he only had a couple of quarters and a stick of gum in his pockets, so he didn't know how useful he'd be. Plus he was still bleeding heavily from his side, despite having staunched the wound with his undershirt, but he was determined to do his job, and keep the scientist alive.

He was so busy watching behind them that he forgot to watch his feet, and he suddenly tripped on the loose concrete, his weight slamming into Brennan's back. She fell heavily, twisting and landing awkwardly on her arm. She heard something crack as the agent landed on top of her, and pain exploded through her elbow.

'Dammit!' He heard her shout, and hastily scrambled off her.

'I'm sorry! What happened? Are you OK?'

'No I'm not.' She got unsteadily to her feet, cradling her wrist in her other arm. 'You've gone and broken my bloody arm!'

Eyes narrowed with pain, both of them intent on glaring at the other, they didn't see or hear the third person enter behind them until Clapham clicked the safety off the gun. Then they both froze, turning slowly to face him to see the evil sneer twisting his once-handsome face. There was no doubting it: he was crazy. His eyes blazed with hate, his hair in a matted mess, his shirt stained with sweat and blood.

'On your knees.' He commanded, his voice saturated with poison.

They fell to their knees, unable to breathe; both of them recognised the gun in his shaking fist.

'What have you don't to Booth?' Brennan demanded, pleased that her voice barely shook. 'Where is he?'

'Don't worry your pretty little head about it.' He leered patronisingly down at her. Brennan had to force herself not to smash his face in, reminding herself he was aiming a gun at her. She remembered something she once said to Booth: Let's rush him. He can't shoot us both. She had no idea if it would work, but even if he shot her, Rod might have a chance. And she didn't have any other choice.

She threw herself forward onto her feet and into Clapham, hearing the gun go off but not registering it as she fell on top of him. The bullet must have ricocheted into a machine, because there was a clang, and a yell from Clapham, as he threw her off. Tempe landed on her bad arm and screamed, stars flashing before her eyes. She didn't see Rd tackle his, but heard the gun skitter across the floor to land a few yards away.

Her eyes met with the killer's bloodshot gaze, and they both scrabbled for the weapon, but she was too slow, in too much pain from her arm, and Rod was slumped beside her. She tried to kick the gun out of his reach, but his fingers were already closing around the grip. She froze, unable to move or breathe or cry out as he swung the pistol to aim at her.

She felt the shot ring out more than she heard it, and something punched into her side, knocking the air out of her lungs. The ground hit her back and she realised she was lying down, staring up at the criss-cross of pipes and glaring lights in the ceiling. As darkness closed in she heard something that sounded like her name, in a familiar voice, but she had to be imagining it, because it sounded just like Booth…