WARNING!!!!: Getting very dark and violent. Abuse, murder, disturbing images, and possibly the answer to who killed Kennedy in the near future. (kidding about the last part) For everyone who wanted to know what was going on with Casey, why she was so screwed up. Well, here's the answer. And Zack is going to act like what may seem OOC, but I like to think of it as character developement after what I've put him through. Hope this lives up to what I've built it up to be. Please review! (Did I say earlier that they weren't mine?)

"What?" exclaimed Booth.

Hodgins was a little more sympathetic. "Look, Zack, I know we've been through this before, but…"

"It's not her!" Zack insisted. "I can see how you would think it's just wishful thinking, but it's not and I can't believe that you didn't think of it, Dr. Brennan, but of course you had no reason to look for it and when I found it I had to check and-"

Angela grabbed him by his shoulders. "Zack, What are you talking about? What did you find?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words. Dr. Brennan took it as a lack of actual evidence, and pointed out a few simple flaws in his theory. "Zack, it was her car, right down to the little alien stickers on either side of her back windows. Cam did a visual match on one of her hairs from the scene and one from her Superman cap Angela borrowed. That's her necklace, Zack. I'm sor-"

Zack dug in his lab coat pocket. "This necklace?" he asked, pulling it out and holding it up. "The one I took off of her at her birthday party last week to put on the St. Florian medallion Booth helped me pick out? The one that I forgot in my lab coat pocket?"

They looked at each other, confused. "What does that mean?" asked Angela.

Zack threw his hands up in frustration. "Isn't anyone listening? It means it's not her!"

"That is a little odd, Zack, but it doesn't prove anything," said Dr. Brennan gently.

The young scientist looked like he was going to hit someone. "I know that! That's why I was examining the body! Look!" He took the scalpel and pointed to the unmarred shoulder bone. "We all saw Casey's MRI, where the break was. This humerus has never been broken!"

Brennan's eyes widened. "You're right, Zack. It isn't her." She looked thoroughly confused. "But that doesn't make sense! The visual match was identical. That a one in at least five million, maybe more. What are the chances that whoever did this could find one?"

Booth looked at the body. "Pretty good, since Casey had an identical twin."

Everyone turned to stare at him as if he suddenly had three heads.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Casey came to in the dark, and at first she thought she was blind. It took her a few minutes to realize the position she was in, arms tied behind her back and her feet tied together. The bone had almost healed in her shoulder, she had taken the sling off a few days earlier, but the position sent bolt after bolt of pain through her. She was sitting up against the wall. Trying to pull away from the wall, she realized that she was tied to the wall as well.

She struggled and squirmed for a while, trying to work her way loose, but she knew it was futile. She was here for a while, and she knew she was probably going to die here. The room it's self wasn't familiar. It was different, so they had to be in a new place. There was no way to know how long she had been unconscious, so they could be anywhere by now. She wasn't even sure how she got wherever she was. The last thing she remembered, she had been driving home from the lab. Now she had woken up here, with her head all but splitting open. Well, this sucked.

While she didn't know specifically where she was, she knew why she was there. She was there because after six years, she had broken a vow to keep her mouth shut. Somehow when Booth ran her name, they were able to trace it. They had found Booth and followed him, or accessed the database or something. The how didn't matter. She had told someone who she was, and they had found her. Now, she was going to die for betraying them. For doing the right thing and saving herself in the process. For escaping with both body and heart intact.

The door opened and let in a little slice of light. It fell on her face, and she blinked at the sudden brightness. She took in the silhouette in the doorway and tried not to tremble. In a voice that was stronger than she felt, she forced a smile. "Hi, Mom. You couldn't just bring over a casserole like a normal mother?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Okay, guys," said Booth, getting back in the swing of things. "Here's the plan. You see what you can get from the body. I'll be on my cell if you find anything."

"Where are you going?" Brennan demanded.

"I'm going to find Casey, where else? C'mon Zack!"

Zack's eyes widened. "You want me to come with you?"

"Do you know where she lives?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then you know more than me. Come on!"

This time the younger man didn't need an engraved invitation.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So, what are you -we- looking for?" Asked Zack as Booth struggled to pick the lock on Casey's door. The FBI agent ignored him. "What did Casey tell you about her past? She was abused, wasn't she?"

Booth looked up at him, irritated. "Remember the part where you don't ask questions, you just do what I say?"

Zack had put up with Booth treating him like an annoyance, like the little cousin that tags along too much, for way too long. Finally, he snapped. "Look, Booth, you invited me along. This isn't a golf game and I'm not your caddy! This is my girlfriend who's missing or dead or being tortured. I want to know what's going on, what she's been so afraid of, and who the hell has her! Now, I'm going to give you my key so you can stop playing with that lock pick and we're going inside. You are going to tell me everything you know about her, followed by what we are looking for. Then, we are going to go rescue Casey, and shoot whoever gets in our way. Okay?"

Booth swallowed hard. When had this kid grown a set of balls? Had Casey really been that much of an influence on him? He didn't dare ask. Instead, he said, "Why didn't you tell me you had a key?"

Zack looked at him with a darker expression than Booth had ever seen on the innocent young face. "You told me not to talk." He handed Booth his key ring, holding up a key.

Booth let them in, and looked around. The apartment was small, comfortably messy. Zack sat down in her favorite wicker mushroom chair. Her firefighter sweatshirt was slung over the back of it, and he pulled it down into his lap. Booth sat heavily on the worn blue couch opposite Zack. "I guess it's story time, huh?" Zack waited patiently, and Booth popped his knuckles. "You know she's going to be pissed at me for telling you."

Zack ran his fingers over the screen-print of the maltese cross on the sweatshirt. "If we don't find her, it won't matter."

Booth was dizzy from the rate at which Zack was going from an annoying kid to a determined man, and back again. He also found himself unable to suppress the urge to comfort him. Putting his hand on Zack's knee, he said "Hey, come on! We'll find her. And she'll be fine. She lived through this for 18 years, she can survive it now."

Zack looked up sharply. "So Casey was abused?"

Booth hated to tell the young man what his girlfriend had been through, hated to even think about it, but Zack was right. He couldn't actually help if he didn't know what they were up against. "Abused wasn't the word for it. Or even the worst of what happened. And her name isn't Casey. She changed it. Her real name is Martina Dalton."

He paused to plan his next words, and Zack spoke up. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because it's very similar to Melissa Dalton. The-"

"Most notorious female serial killer in recent history," said Zack, suddenly remembering the case. "Over twenty victims found buried in her flower garden, including her three children."

Booth shook his head. "Only the body of one of her children was ever found. One of the twin girls was presumed dead, had been missing for a few weeks. The other girl ran away before her 18th birthday party and went straight to the FBI field office with pictures, audio tapes, and a testimony good enough to all but send her mother to Gitmo. Apparently four years earlier at her older brother's 18th birthday party, her mother served the cake and ice cream, lit the candles, and then blew her son's brains out before putting the ice cream back in the freezer and demanding the girls eat all of their cake before getting up from the table. Martina figured with her sister missing and most likely dead, she wasn't going to live through the day. The danger of running away wasn't so dangerous when death was pretty much an imminent guarantee."

Zack wasn't sure if he had even breathed during the story. Booth was still using the name 'Martina' so it was easy to pretend it wasn't his Casey they were talking about. "What did the FBI do? Didn't they believe her?"

"Yeah, they believed her. They were just too late. By the time they got back to the house, it had been abandoned. Melissa had simply taken a few things and disappeared. She still hasn't been found."

"But what about C- Martina?"

Booth sighed. "They got her a new identity, moved her to Tennessee. She was brilliant, so when they changed her high school records over, she was instantly accepted to Vanderbilt University, and you pretty much know the rest."

Zack leaned his cheek on the sweatshirt as if it anchored him to the real world, away from this nightmare. He felt like someone had slammed him in the head with a sledgehammer. This couldn't be happening. This was insane! Casey couldn't be…no way! The woman Booth was talking about would have to be screwed up beyond all belief, if she was even able to function in the real world. He opened his mouth to say so, even got out an unrecognizable syllable before Booth held up a hand, and hissed, "Hush!"

He was about to get really pissed, reiterate what he had said earlier, plus a few more things he had just thought of, when he heard the sound that Booth had heard; someone was trying to get in the apartment. Zack shot Booth a deer-in-the-headlight look, and FBI instincts took over. Booth crept over by the door, and Zack followed. As the door creaked open, Booth launched himself at the intruder, pinning the intruder to the ground with his forearm to the other man's throat. "FBI! Don't even think about moving!"

He had forgotten about Zack until he realized the younger man was on the floor beside him, awkwardly holding Casey's switchblade. "Yeah, don't even think about it!"

Booth looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Where the Hell did you get that?!"

Zack never took his eyes off the intruder. "Coffee table," he replied innocently.

"Well, put it away before you stab yourself in the eye!" He turned his attention back on the man he was still holding by the throat. "And who the hell are you?!"

The man had surrendered, for all intents and purposes, laying his hands above his head palms up. "Agent Micheal Wilson. FBI, too." Booth looked skeptical. "Badge in my back pocket."

Booth wasn't willing to let him up yet. "Zack, check his back pockets." He chanced a look at his partner-in-crime, and saw that he was still holding the knife. "Dammit, kid, put the knife down!"

Zack's voice was very soft. "I don't know how to close it."

Booth sighed, then scooted off the newcomer. "This is why squints belong in the lab!" He grabbed the knife out of the smaller hand, pushed the button that made the blade disappear, all the while keeping his eyes on Agent Wilson. "Okay, your turn. Show your badge." He pulled it out of his pocket. Booth took it, and looked it over. Looks legit. Sorry about the rude welcome."

Wilson sat up then. "No problem. Oddly enough, I get that a lot. I assume you're looking for Marti too?"