Title: Holding Out for a Hero
Pairings: Booth and Bones storyline with appearances by the Jeffersonian crew.
Warning: Rated T. May have some curse words throughout.
Summary: Takes place about a year after "Aliens in a Spaceship" episode. Bones cheated death once at the hands of the Grave Digger, but when a new case proves that one of their most dangerous murders is back, Bones's life is once again in danger. Will she survive? Will Booth make it in time, or could he lose her forever? One can hope in holding out for a hero.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to the show and the fans of Bones.
A/N: I hope you enjoy this story.
Timeline/Important Notes:
- Even though this story takes place about a year after "Aliens in a Spaceship," it will not follow exactly to events from the television show. I took some plotlines from the story…but please remember this fanfic is an entirely different type of version of events. So, fair warning in case you are transported back to a point in the story that didn't go the way of the show.
- Booth had not been kidnapped by the Grave Digger in this story.
- This story will be told in first person—Bones/Booth POV
- This story will contain flashbacks between the past as well as the present
- To those of you that like to know up front…this story will have about 12 chapters. I will try to commit to updating a new chapter daily.
I think that is it for now…feel free to drop or ask any questions in your reviews and I will be happy to answer them as I post new chapters. Reviews and feedback are always welcomed and appreciated.
Chapter 1 – Dazed and Confused
Bones
Present Day
"Tempe…"
No. I just want to stay here.
"Temperance…"
Just a little bit longer. I'm not ready to leave yet.
"Bones…baby, I need you to open your eyes."
I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to open them. I didn't want to leave my cocoon of darkness and warmth, but I don't just hear him…I swear I can feel him too. He's safety. Ever my protector.
My friend.
My partner.
My Booth.
The man I am so deeply in love with, I somehow forget to breathe sometimes when I look at him.
I hear him call my name again, and this time…I am unable to stay hidden in my safety cocoon. A place in my own mind I created at age fifteen after my parents had left me. After Russ took off and left me too. After I bounced from foster care to foster care, I needed an escape. My place of safety. Since Seeley Booth walked into my life, that source of safety became him.
I groan. A wave of pain radiates through my body, stealing my breath away. How? Why? A moment ago, I was comforted and safe…and now, it was all ripped away to what felt like a blank canvas.
"Wake up, Temperance!"
No. Something is wrong. That voice is wrong. It's not warm. It's not safe. It's not Booth. I feel a chill at the back of my spine, only intensifying the pain.
I feel something on my cheek. A light touch. What feels like cold fingers adding to the icy feeling inside—metaphorically of course—before they disappear and return with a pat to my cheek. Not as hard as a slap, but enough to shock me out of the protective place I had been in moments ago.
"Booth…" I stammer.
"Bones…stay," I hear him whisper faintly.
"I want too," I cry out, knowing he is getting further from me with each passing second. "Booth. Booth!"
"Tell me how, Bones," his plea is far-off and urgent that I almost don't even hear him.
"Seeley…I want you to know…I have lov…"
My eyes snap open at the pain pulling at my wrists. I slowly lift my head—my head hanging, my chin dipped to my chest—trying to fight through each ache and wave of torture I feel as I move.
My head is throbbing, the skin at the base of my skull and neck—and again on my right side of my body just above my kidneys—a sting and burn as if my skin had been lit on fire.
I bite my lip, as I manage to lift my head until level, my brows furrowing together as I try and catch my breath. My arms are bound with rope at my wrists above my head, a large metal hook holding me here as if I was an animal awaiting to be butchered piece by piece. There is a feeling of heaviness in my arms and a slight tingle of numbness as if they had fallen asleep, telling me I have been in this position for some time.
The hook keeps my arms and body suspended enough so that I can reach the ground by kneeling. My kneecaps ache against the cement floor, and I can't tell if the pain in my head is solely from the burn and ache, I feel at the back of my skull, or that my arms being held in this manner slowing the blood circulation considerably, is the reason I feel sluggish and dazed. Maybe it was neither. I can taste an unfamiliar taste—a residue—on my tongue, but I can't yet pinpoint what it could be. Something enough to knock me out through an intramuscular injection. That would at least take minutes, which brought me back to the stinging and burning pain to my head and side.
I try and tug at my binds, but they only tighten and cut into the flesh of my raw wrists even more. I hiss at the pain, the extra weight on my knees making me choke back a sob.
"Temperance Brennan. Oh, how I have waited for this moment for such a long time," a voice in the room says, causing me to look about the space and locate where I know my captor. is standing.
I squint, as I look back around at my surroundings. I can hear the sound of waves crashing around us, distant caws of seagulls. Where I am being held looks like some kind of warehouse or building down by either docks or the beach. The room isn't completely dark, even though I am enclosed by four cement walls. Two of the walls are lined with casement windows bordering at the top, providing light into the room.
The voice to the person steps out of the shadows and into the light, a smug and sickening smile etched in their expression. It's the first time I am able to get a look at the enemy both Booth and I have been hunting for over a year. The person that tried to kill me last year by burying both Hodgins and I in a car under a pile of dirt and rocks. They hadn't succeeded then, but the look they were shooting me now, told me they were hoping to rectify that outcome.
I was finally face-to-face with none other than the serial killer known as, "the Grave Digger."
I swallow. I have to get out of here. I must escape, or I would certainly die. I had almost died last time. If it hadn't been for Booth in the end.
Booth.
Just saying his name hits me with a wave of sadness and protectiveness at the same time. Is he here too? Did Grave Digger hurt him? Worse…kill him? I instinctively look around, but I already know he isn't here. I guess I should be happy for that. If one of us was going to die, at least it should be me. A woman that only made time to love bones and nothing else. Felt that love and feelings of love were irrational. That loving someone—one person—more than anything in their existence or even the world was impregnable and downright ridiculous.
Until now.
As I look back up at the person standing before me, the sinking feeling in my stomach didn't give me hope I might win round two of whatever it was they had planned for me. I would fight until the very end. For my family, my friends and people I love at the Jeffersonian, and for Booth.
I try to remember the last thing I could recall before regaining my consciousness here. How I could have ended up here at the hands of the Grave Digger.
I instinctively pull at my bound hands again, only wincing at the pain against my raw flesh.
"There's no use," the voice says again, moving closer so they are now standing directly in front of me as their eyes travel up my arms to my bound wrists. A smug smile tugs at the corner of their mouth. Satisfied with themselves.
"They'll find you," I say tersely, my voice hoarse and cracked.
Heather Taffet stood in front of me in her well-tailored black suit and white buttoned-down shirt. She looked more as if she was ready to address a jury in the courtroom instead of taunting the person she kidnapped and planned to make their next victim. The fact that she was a state attorney was both brilliant and disconcerting at the same time. It was why Heather always seemed to stay a step ahead of Booth and I when we last worked the case.
"I'm counting on it," she taunted.
My kidnapping, whatever plans she had…it was a game for her. Something she enjoyed and revealed in. The fact that she was going up against Booth and I was the ultimate challenge for her and her killing abilities. She had become bored up until now.
Great. Now I sound like Sweets. I hate psychology.
Heather took another step closer to me, her left hand coming to rest under my chin, and raise it violently so I was meeting her eye contact directly. She leaned in so that she was close and directly in front of my face.
"They won't find you. They will find this place, because I want them too…but don't worry. You will be long gone by then," she disclosed as a guarantee.
I pursed my lips, my eyes narrowing. "We'll see about that," I retorted.
Heather offered up a sickening smile. "How does it feel to be good, but not good enough? To know you are going to die—and yes, I mean die this time—because you weren't enough in the end."
Her biggest mistake was remaining right in my face. Before she could even recognize what, I was going to do, I thrust my head forward so my forehead connected with hers. The force caused her to stumble backwards, her hand coming to her forehead as she grunted in pain and rubbed at the spot.
"Why don't you tell me how that feels?" I bit back.
She growled, as she stepped forward and struck me in the cheek. My head snapped to the side, the taste of metallic against the inside of my cheek deduced her strike at created a cut on the inside of my cheek causing me to taste blood.
"I will end you, Temperance Brennan…and the bonus will be destroying Seeley Booth in the process." she promised.
I slowly turned my head so I could look at her, her eyes filled with a murderous rage. We stared each other down for another moment, before she snapped back into her perfectly controlled persona, smoothed out her jacket, and turned on that sickening sweet smile again.
"I have an appointment I must attend too. I'll be back," she declared as she turned and started to walk towards the door.
She stopped after a few steps and turned back her strides coming at me in full force. Her hand reached into her pocket, pulling out what I already knew to be a taser. Recognition already dawned based on her previous M.O. with incapacitating her victims and why my head and side hurt. What she had done previously when captured Hodgins and I last time.
"Until then, it's time for you to take another snooze." She put the taser to my skin, just under my neck but above my breastbone. The triggers that would release the energy burst into my skin were cold, against my hot and calmy skin. She leaned in again, this time towards my ear and far enough away that I couldn't use my head to strike her again. "I'll make sure to tell Booth you said, hi."
"You—"
My words were cut off, as the voltage struck me until my eyes closed and I passed out.
24 hours earlier…
"What a beautiful morning, Bones," Booth said jovially, as he clapped his hands, removed his glasses and looked up towards the sky as we rounded his black SUV and made our way towards the front.
I pushed my bag on my shoulder, as my forehead crunched together. "Since when do you consider it a beautiful morning as we are literally on our way to check out a dead body."
Booth thought about that for a moment, before shrugging and dropping a bit of his amusement. "Not the body, Bones. Life."
I stopped and looked at him. Something was off. He was…actually happy. "You had sexual intercourse last night, didn't you?"
He faltered a moment. "What? What led you to that conclusion?"
I did as I always do. Hit him to fact and logic to how I came to what I was a certain observation that would prove me to be correct.
"Well, you are displaying a combination of detected indicators of non-verbal signs and contextual clues," I reply.
"Of course," Booth says sarcastically.
"What? I mean your voice is clearly elevated an octave higher, which would indicate to your excitement. Your face presents additional evidence by your smile that reaches not only your mouth but your eyes, and your extremely relaxed even though we are on our way to a possible murder scene. The way you keep turning your body, so your arms are out wide, which gives the clue you are open to others about sharing in and even enjoying in your happiness."
Booth looks over at me with his eyebrow raised. "You know, Bones…sometimes I don't even know why I share," he says, as he begins walking again.
When Booth called me this morning to inform me that that we had a murder case, he had given me the details that the body was located in an adjacent overflow of a long-term parking at the airport. We continued walking towards the large group of emergency and police vehicles that were tapped off with the yellow police tape, news vans and reporters itching to get a look at the crime scene.
I quickened my pace to keep up with his strides. "Well, if it's not sex, what has you in a good mood?"
He did that slight shake of his head at my question, as if he was already exasperated by our conversation. "Not sex," he answered abruptly.
I pushed the strap on my bag higher on my shoulder. "Well, then is it work?"
"Parker."
"Parker? Is everything ok with Parker?"
Booth's smile returned, the corner of his mouth going wider. "It will be after this," he announced, his hand reaching inside his coat near the breast pocket, producing two pair of tickets.
I studied them for a moment. They looked like any normal type of concert or theater tickets, but these had large trucks with enormous looking tires on them. By the looks of them, you would need a ladder just to get into the impractical motor vehicle. The amount of gas those things alone would need just to drive them around.
I looked at him genuinely confused. "Why would Parker be excited about large trucks?"
Booth equally looked at me genuinely surprised and amused. Either emotion didn't give me a clue as to why. "You're kidding, right?"
I shook my head. "I am certainly most not kidding. Why would anyone be excited about looking at vehicles that are altered to look and work in a manner that is completely nonfunctional in the real world and do considerable harm to the environment."
"Bones, Bones," he interjected, pulling me to a stop as he placed the two tickets back in his coat breast pocket. "Not every possible entertainment needs to be functional or serve an educational purpose."
I scoffed. "Then why would they want to do it?"
Booth let out a frustrated sigh, as we once again resumed walking. "Because he is a boy, and monster trucks running over and crushing other cars is cool," he answered.
"Crushing other cars? That is what you call entertainment?"
He laughed. "You know, you might even like it if you gave it a try."
I shook my head vehemently. "Absolutely not. It has no purpose, and therefore it would be an absolute waste of time." We walked in silence for a beat just as we were close to reaching the yellow tape. "How did you come to inquire these tickets?" I asked, trying to keep my own cynicism out of my voice.
Booth smirked, his posture straightening, his chest jutting out even more, telling me whatever the story was…he was proud. "A buddy at the agency owed me a favor, and I remembered he had a contact. Scored us front row seats with backstage access to be able to get up close to the trucks, climb in, and ask the drivers questions. Parker is going to be ecstatic…and on top of that, Rebecca didn't give me a hard time when I asked if I could have Parker that weekend even though it's not my weekend to have him."
"Monster trucks?" I repeated.
Booth let out another an exasperated sigh. "Never mind," he said, holding up the yellow tape so I could bend down slightly to get underneath.
"What? Was that the wrong response? Your mad now, aren't you?"
Booth shook his head, already reaching for his badge on his waist seeing that a woman a few feet ahead of us, looked in our direction and started walking towards us.
"Don't worry about it, Bones. I know it's not a riveting topic that interests you," he commented.
His tone told me I had upset him. His smile and happy demeanor a few seconds ago were gone, and not because he was slipping into his cop mode like he always did once we got on scene. I had once again said or done something to make the conversation shut down.
"Should I have said something different? You were happy and proud to share the news. Should I have validated your reason to feel this way, even if it was just tickets for a monster thingy?"
"Never mind, Bones," he said quickly, the lady only a few steps in front of us. She looked at me for only a second before her gaze landed on Booth, taking him in from head to toe. Booth raised his badge showing his credentials to the woman. "I'm Special Agent, Seeley Booth, and this here is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan."
The woman nodded. "Detective Shelly Johnson. Thanks for coming," she replied, falling into step with us. "The body is this way." She pointed as we started following her towards the direction where we could already see other patrol officers and CSI investigators standing by.
"I got it," I said, turning to Booth. "You are happy and excited, because of how happy and proud Parker is going to be with you once he sees these tickets."
He looks over at me. "Is that a bad thing?"
I shake my head quickly. "No. It's just…"
He sighs. "Just what?"
"Parker is already extremely proud of you. I mean he has you for a dad," I say.
Booth looks down, a smile crossing over his lips. "Thanks, Bones."
My forehead crunches together. "For what? I was just stating a fact."
Our conversation ceases as we approach the crime scene. Our dead body appears from the angle I can see having been left in a car. As we reach the car, I can see that the body behind the wheel is not a body of bones, but an actual body.
"Um, why exactly am I here. This is a dead body."
The detective Johnson lady forms a wrinkle in her forehead, her eyebrow raised. "Isn't that what you do?"
I balk at her question. "I am a forensic anthropologist. That means I study bones, which clearly this dead body is not."
Booth was already close to the driver side of the car, leaning forward and getting closer to the murder victim. I chose to stay back meeting detective Johnson's miffed expression.
"Thank you, I know what an anthropologist means," Johnson replies snidely.
"Could have fooled me," I mutter under my breath, even though the way in which Shelly turns her head in my direction, she had obviously heard me.
"Anyway," Shelly draws out, turning her attention back to Booth instead, "as soon as we identified the victim, I was told this was something you might want jurisdiction over."
Booth stood and looked over at me. "Bones, you need to see this."
"Why would I want to see this?"
"Bones," he says curtly, cutting off any more reason for me to argue.
As I moved towards the car, leaning in just as Booth had done a few moments earlier, understanding dawns in my expression. "Booth, that's…"
"Thomas Vega," he finishes for me, pulling out his phone from his coat pocket. He turns to Shelly, "We are taking over this murder investigation."
Shelly nods. "Understood." She turns and starts speaking to the other officers who clearly look to her as the one with seniority on scene.
I kneel on the ground towards Thomas Vega's body, taking a closer look at the surroundings and crime scene. Nothing in the car looked out of place, as if there was any sort of struggle. His hands were slumped at his side, and besides the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned a few buttons, it looked as if he had just fell asleep in his car.
"What do we have, Bones?" Booth asked, flipping his phone shut and coming to stand next to me.
I lean back so we can face each other. "No signs of struggle," I answer.
"So, he knew the suspect," Booth commented. I shook my head coming to that same conclusion. "Any idea on cause of death?"
I lean in again to pull back the two halves of his unbuttoned shirt, indicating to Booth on where I want him to look. He leans in further in the car, his eyes immediately going to his upper chest where to large red welts appear just over his heart.
"We'll have to get him back to the lab so Cam can do a formal autopsy but based on what I am seeing here and if I had to guess, these burn marks, means that he was electrocuted with some kind of device. Most likely his heart stopped based on the positioning of these burns here on the skin," I answered, pointing to the two red welts for Booth.
Booth stands, and I lean back to do the same, using my haunches to gain momentum to stand. "Why would someone want to kill Thomas Vega?" I asked.
Booth already had his phone out, starting to dial. "I need F.B.I. CSI out here and body and crime scene sent back to the Jeffersonian," he barked into the phone before closing it again. "Maybe a family who had lost their child or loved one wanted revenge for listening to his advice and it not working out."
"You don't think it was Mr. Kent, do you?" I asked.
Mr. Kent was the father of the two twin boys—Matthew and Ryan—who had perished at the hands of the Grave Digger when the ransom for their lives had not been met. Last year we had learned, that even if the boy's father had paid the ransom, both boys had already died, since the Grave Digger hadn't calculated or planned correctly for the fact that with two victims, they would eat up the oxygen in half the time. Both boys had died at the Grave Digger's hands.
Booth shook his head. "I don't, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to drag his ass down to my office to ask."
I grabbed my bag from the ground as we started walking back towards our car. "Do you think…could it have been the Grave Digger?"
Booth swallowed, and thanks to our partnership over the last couple of years, I already knew what that look on his face meant.
"It's extremely possible. It's my choice."
"But, why?"
"Bones, that book that Vega wrote on the Grave Digger, it's all about the Grave Digger and their method of kidnapping and ransom. It's possible that after you and Hodgins escaped, the Grave Digger could be taking revenge out on Vega as the reason for why you survived."
I snorted. "I survived because I am smart. Well, and you. Not because of Vega."
"Regardless, that doesn't mean the Grave Digger sees it that way." He pulled out his phone again. "I need you to pick up Janine O'Connell," he ordered, before closing his phone.
"Thomas Vega's assistant?"
"Yes. I need to know what she knows, or if she was involved."
"What if she doesn't know anything?"
Booth's expression turned bleaker. "Then she could very well be his or her next victim." We reach his SUV, but before we climb in, he extends his arm out to stop me. "Which brings me to my next point," he starts his voice all serious, his tone indicating whatever he was going to say next was non-negotiable. "You don't go anywhere without me by your side until this investigation is over."
I let out a loud sigh. "Booth, I can take care of myself."
"I didn't say you couldn't. You were the Grave Diggers target last time, and until I know why Vega was killed and by who…you don't go anywhere without me. Got it?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but the rise to his eyebrow and stern look told me it was going to be pointless. It was one of the things about Booth that I admired most. His loyalty and fierce protectiveness. Especially over me, even if I felt it wasn't needed half the time. I knew how to fight, shoot a gun, and protect myself.
"Fine," I relented.
He opened the door. "Good. Get in. I am getting you back to the lab, where I know you will be safe."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Please feel free to review and provide your feedback or ask a question, which I will answer at the top of the next chapter. Thanks! 😊
