Title: Deja Vu
Disclaimer: Language, violence
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Chapter Sixteen: Running out of Days
He cried out in frustration when he woke the next time. He couldn't believe that he was still alive, that he continued to suffer. Why couldn't he just die? Why did he have to hang on the way that he was? By now, if anyone had been looking for him they had probably stopped. They probably assumed he was one of those missing people that never got found. What a terrible thought to have but it stood out from all the others. He knew that it wouldn't be long before he finally died. He had less and less energy. Even waking up was beginning to be too much. He just wanted to sleep. All he wanted to do was sleep.
He shone the flashlight toward the door and found that his note still lay where he left it. His captor had not returned recently. He was getting desperate. He needed a way out. A man could only take so much pain and suffering. He didn't want to sit around anymore wondering if they'd find him. Wondering if they were even safe. What if this maniac had gotten a hold of his son? Of the squints? Of Bones? What would be left for him when he got out? If he ever got out.
Picking up the pen he finally began to write.
This is not what I wanted. Nobody wants this, to sit around in the dark with a flashlight for comfort. Who would want to sit here and suffer, knowing that they're going to starve to death? I feel so empty inside. My body is getting weaker and my mind has grown foggy. My vision is not the best. I keep blacking out and that's not usually a good sign. Even if I did find a way out of here, would I be healthy enough to be saved? I can't help but wonder how many days have passed and how many more will go by before I'm found. The fact that I may never be found is daunting and killing my spirit even more. There is no hope in a box like this. At times I feel like a baking potato, other times I feel like a caged beast. I just want to be free. I want to see the sun again. To feel the wind on my skin and hear the sounds of life. All I can hear in this place are my own thoughts.
All I can think of is you.
Parker, how I miss you. I'm sorry that I didn't make more time for you. If I had the chance to do it all over again I would spend every day with you. We'd go wherever you wanted to, do whatever you wanted. I'd give anything to see you smile, to hear you laugh. I know that you'll turn out to be a wonderful man. You'll get married and have kids of your own someday. Don't make the mistakes that I did. Spend time with the ones that you love. Never hold anything back. Find a job you can love but one that doesn't dominate your life. But most of all be happy in your life.
Temperance, what can I say to you? There are so many things that I've kept to myself over the years. All of sudden I want to share them with and only you. There's something about you that makes me feel like a king. I don't care that we come from different worlds. It doesn't matter to me that you don't understand half the things that I say, hell, I don't understand half that medical stuff you talk about. Just spending time with you makes me feel complete inside. You are the missing puzzle piece that I've been looking for over the last few years. I just wish we didn't disagree so much. Who knows what could have happened if there had been time. Would we have finally gotten passed our differences and become more than friends? Be happy, Bones, forgive your brother and live in peace. You deserve it.
To the rest of you squints, what can I say? As much as I don't want to admit it, and mind you, I never will admit it anywhere other than here, you guys are the greatest friends a man can have. Sure, I make fun of you and your geeky-ness but really, I enjoy your company. You are real. Too many agents get that high and mighty attitude. You guys do your jobs and remain human. Does that make any sense? Ha, of course it makes sense, you're scientists. Pretty much everything makes sense to you. Promise me that you'll each find happiness somewhere in life, and never stop doing what you're doing. You give people the justice they deserve.
That's really all I have to say, I guess. What more can I say? Actually, I do wish that you guys could have found me faster. There are so many things I wish I could have done in my life. But all in all, I guess I'm pretty happy with how things worked out. I joined the FBI to make up for my sins as a sniper. Over the years I've put a lot of bad guys behind bars. It was really only a matter of time before one of them turned the tables. Lastly, don't forget me. Please, there is nothing in the world more painful than being forgotten. Even after you're gone.
Regretfully,
Agent Seeley Booth, FBI
He dropped the pen, it rolled a little before stopping. He re-read the note before folding it up and placing it on what he figured to be the exact center of the shipping cargo. It was important that they found the note. Then he began to think, what if they didn't find it? What if his captor found it first and threw it away? That would leave his loved ones with nothing. Plucking the paper from the metal floor he stuck it in his back pocket. Feeling slightly feverish he lay down on his stomach. The metal floor wasn't too cool to the touch but it was better than the walls which felt as though they'd been soaking up the sun.
Staring into the darkness he wondered what was going on in the world outside. Did people pass by the shipping cargo on daily tasks at the docks? Was his son missing him? Did his colleagues mourn his loss? Had they given up on him and cleared his desk off all the personal affects? And what about Brennan? His thoughts kept wrapping back around to her. They could have been happy together, if given half the chance. Then, out of nowhere he thought of the case they'd been working. The case of Temira Brend, the girl that looked so much like Brennan. He thought about her friend, the one that looked like him. He remembered the guy telling him how much he loved Temira. It was almost the exact same situation that he found himself in with Brennan. Instead, he was going to be the one that died.
"Life is ironic," he whispered into the dark. Even though his energy was failing and his throat was dry he found the ability to laugh. It hurt but he didn't care. Everything hurt. His laughter soon turned into sobs. With one last look around the dark enclosure he closed his eyes.