A/N: Chapter 3

Saturday afternoon

"No, no, no! This has to do with Max! I don't know how yet, but he sprung up out of the blue for the first time in decades and now she is missing. That's not a coincidence!" Booth cried into his phone. "They know that the way to Max is through her." He groaned in frustration as someone fed him yet another line about being too involved in this case.

"Hang up, Cher, I got something." Caroline said as she came barging into his office without so much as a knock.

"I gotta go." Booth hung up on the person and gave Caroline his full attention.

"There was a rumor of an ex-military team that was known for doing this type of work back in the seventies. Even got the drop on a few well-known criminals back in the day. Bad guys kidnapping bad guys and holding them hostage until they got whatever they wanted out of 'em. It takes a lot of skill to catch the uncatchable."

"The 1970s, that would tie them to Max." Booth said as he grabbed the top file and scanned it quickly. "Nothing? We have nothing on these guys? How is that possible?"

"They were smarter than us." Caroline said dryly. "No evidence, no witnesses, and the victims were all bad guys who weren't exactly willing to tell their stories, if you know what I mean."

"Caroline, this is Bones!" He said, getting angry. "If we get her out of there, she's going to talk!" Booth's face blanched as he realized what he had just said.

Because chances were good, they knew that too.

Caroline saw the knowing look in Booth's eyes and immediately started preparing for battle.

"I'm on it, Cherie." She said curtly before leaving the office with her game face on.

Booth slunk back into his chair, the reality of the situation coming through loud and clear.

How do you play a game when the other player holds all the cards?

OOOOO

Friday morning

"Booth?" She called him back, wanting to talk to him privately. He nodded and shut the door to her office as he made his way back inside.

"What's up, Bones?" Judging by the privacy, he figured it was something to do with her dad's letter.

"I just, I wanted to say thank you again for staying with me Tuesday night. It, um, it meant a lot to me that you would do that. And I'm sorry that you have to keep taking care of me. This past year has been..."

"Hey, don't be sorry." Booth said, moving closer to her as he cut her off. "I like that you feel safe with me. I want to be the one who gets to take care of you, work-related or not." She looked up into his eyes and suddenly he found it hard to breathe. His words had taken on a larger meaning than he originally intended and she had clearly heard what he was really saying.

"You do?" She asked, searching his eyes to see if he would confirm what he had just implied or backpedal with an alternate excuse.

"Yeah, I do." He said, taking a chance as he reached out and brushed his fingers over hers. She smiled and maybe even blushed a little at the action before coming to her senses and distancing herself from him.

"But, what about the line?" She wanted to know. "We agreed that after what happened to Cam, it would be a mistake." Booth sighed.

"I had an epiphany last night." He explained. "Those things: the bombs, the threats, the kidnappings, the poison, they happened to us despite our relationship status." He reminded her. She frowned adorably as she considered his words and he once again found himself fighting the urge to kiss her. "But I know that after those things happen, you're the first person I want to wrap my arms around and I think that having you next to me would make all of those things easier to deal with." She looked down at her hands and Booth tipped her chin up with his knuckle. "Look, I'm not saying we have to jump into anything now. Just...think about it." She nodded and he smiled. "Good, I'll see you later." He said, taking his hand back and leaving her office swiftly.

He made it as least three steps before he realized that he had just thrown every single one of his cards on the table. He had nothing left to play.

OOOOO

Friday afternoon

Booth's phone buzzed in his pocket and he reached down to check the caller ID. Her name lit up the screen.

Bones

His stomach did a somersault as he debated on opening the text. In the end, the fact that it might be case-related won him over.

I've thought about it. Meet me at the Founding Fathers in half an hour?

Booth read and re-read the text before sending his response. Leave it to her to be comfortably vague when his entire life felt like it was hanging in the balance.

Sure. Any hints re: your decision?

He waited a minute before she replied.

Where's the fun in that? See you soon.

Booth grinned so hard, he was certain his face was about to crack in half.

She was giving him a chance.

This was finally their beginning.

OOOOO

Sunday Afternoon

Brennan had been given her bread on what she thought was Saturday. She wasn't sure what day it was, but she was certain that it had been more than 24 hours since she had last eaten. She felt faint, her hands were shaking and she couldn't remember the last time she had had something to drink. Her lips were cracked, bloodied from the dehydration.

She heard men talking above her door and she wondered if she was actually going to be given some water. She strained her ears, desperate to hear something that might tell her why she was here. She heard Max's name and she climbed up the ladder to the edge of the door to hear more but they had already passed by. The loss of potential information was the straw that broke the anthropologist's back.

She started to cry, unable to keep it together another second longer. It had been two days and she hadn't even seen a face. Even if she was rescued, she would have absolutely nothing to give the FBI. She had no evidence.

Booth would have certainly figured out why she was being held by now. He would know what to do. He worked on no evidence all the time. His gut would tell him what he needed to know in this situation. But she didn't have a gut, she only had a brain. She cried harder at her incompetence.

She was completely helpless.

OOOOO

Sunday Afternoon

Booth stared at the little bit of information Caroline had dug up on this kidnapping team. He had a few newspaper reports, some police reports, but really, when all was said and done, he had nothing to go on.

He had never been so frustrated. Physical evidence wasn't his job. It was hers. He handed a body to the team and they dealt with it. He, on the other hand, talked to people, visited places, he worked with a different kind of evidence, none of which he had at his disposal now.

He knew the entire team was pacing in the lab. They had nothing to work with, nothing to analyze, nothing to sketch, nothing to poke, prod, or boil down and they were all looking to him to bring them something, anything so that they could help bring Brennan home in one piece.

He had nothing for them.

He threw the file down on his desk in frustration. He was going to kill Max the next time he saw him.

Max.

It hit him like a lightning bolt.

The letter was a warning. Max knew something was in the works. He was trying to protect her, trying to warn her.

He had to get to the lab.