I realized that the cliffhanger for Chapter 11 was really mean, so I decided to post 12 today as well. Again, feedback makes me post faster, and hopefully will unlock my muse so I can finish the sequel to this story. Not to sound too beggy, but please review :)

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Chapter 12

"I am a very patient man, but you are making me lose my patience, Doctor."

"Fuck you," Brennan gritted out, not sure if her use of bad language was due to the adrenaline or vice-versa. The feeling of the scalpel scraping against her rib was still there even though the blade was far from her body now. With her one good eye, she saw the bald man putting away his scalpel, picking up pliers from the tray.

"That's quite a mouth for a lady. We'll help you make some room in there, won't we?"

Brennan clamped her sore jaw shut, turning her face towards her shoulder, refusing to make it easier for them. She struggled against her bonds, ignoring the multiple protests that her cuts and bruises made to her already exhausted body.

A bandaged arm came and wrapped itself around her neck, pressing against her hyoid and she wondered how this goon could be so stupid as if to make the same mistake twice. She bit down again, swollen jaw making this bite less effective but the area must've been sore enough because the arm released her neck and she heard cries of pain behind her.

Her adrenaline-powered struggle managed to free her right leg, and she brought it up between the bald man's legs. As both hands moved to cup his injured parts, she raised her leg and kicked his stomach as hard as she could, sending him tumbling backwards.

"Don't shoot!" the man in the suit shouted as she saw three guns pointing at her.

The bald guy was apparently quite pissed, because he picked up the discarded scalpel and started charging towards her, and by his height and angle at which he was holding the scalpel, she calculated he was aiming at her right shoulder or upper right arm.

She wasn't sure what happened next, but the scalpel made contact with her outer thigh instead, the instrument barely grazing the skin. The bald man's face connected with her stomach, and she saw an exit wound above his left ear, undoubtedly made by a bullet.

Shots rang around her, and she closed her eyes tightly, wondering when her time would come. It wasn't enough to make her believe in a higher power, but for the first time she understood Booth's need to believe. She held her breath for what felt like an eternity, partly because she was afraid to exhale and partly because the dead man on her stomach was pressing against her injured ribs and a deep breath could cause the broken rib to perforate her diaphragm and lung.

The sound of bullets stopped, and she still kept her eyes closed.

"Bones!"

"Temperance!"

Was she dreaming? Opening the eye she could, she peered around the room, finally seeing Booth and… her father? How had they found her? Actually, she didn't care about it at the moment; she just wanted the dead man off her stomach. She tried to move him with her free leg but he was too heavy. Then the weight was gone and she looked up to see Booth's concerned eyes. A sob rocketed through her body, relief stronger than the pain it caused.

Her father stood guard at the door through which they must've come through, and Booth cut her bindings with a pocketknife.

"Come on," he said, reaching for her waist to lift her up. She let him pull her to her feet through the warnings of pain from her injuries, and she was surprised to find she could walk. His arm wrapped around her waist, moving away from her broken ribs when she winced.

"Take her down through where we came from," her father told Booth. "I'll be right there."

As they passed him, she noticed he was clutching his arm and blood was staining the sleeve. "Dad!"

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Go with Booth, okay?"

She was too weak to protest, too disoriented to pay attention to the maze of corridors and then tunnels that Booth carried her through. She must've dozed off on his shoulder, because she felt a gentle shake. "Wake up, Temperance."

She cringed at the use of her first name. "I'm fine," she argued as she felt her eye closing again.

"No, I think you have a concussion, you need to stay awake!"

She pulled back to meet his eyes, wanting to say so much but unable to form a single word. Her gaze dropped to his lips. She felt an irrational need to taste his lips, even though her own lips were so swollen and sore that a kiss would probably be more painful than pleasurable. Her mental battle ended when her father found them, and she pulled away from the possible attempt at a kiss so fast that she felt dizzy. "Dad!"

"Hey, kiddo." Her father kissed what must've been the last unbruised spot on her forehead. "Listen, we have to get out of here, okay? Can you walk fast?"

She nodded, following the duo down a tunnel, barely feeling the black sludge against her calves. When they found water, she dropped to her knees, letting the muddy water wash away some of the blood. The sound of an explosion shook the ground and she looked back to see a building erupting in flames. She deduced it was the building she'd been kept in, and watching it go up was quite cathartic.

The urge to sleep was still great, so she let Booth guide her up the stream where the water was a little clearer and he splashed her face with some water. Her cuts were now protesting against the cleansing and she winced.

"Come on, let's get back to the car. We need to get you two to a hospital," Booth urged them.

She was too weak to ask any questions.