AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I hope everyone had a more than excellent Christmas. Also my best wishes for 2008. It's nice to be back. Well, I certainly hope I am back though I cannot guarantee anything because of this bloody insomnia that keeps chasing me!

Sincere thanks to everyone who reviewed the last two chapters. I am horribly behind on my review replies; no need to point that out. But do not despair, I will get to them before Sunday!

More thanks to Faux Maven. It seems like an eternity ago we went over this chapter, but your compliment will always stay with me. As will your help. I cannot stress enough how kind it was of you to lend me a hand when I didn't know what to do.

Before we begin, just one last, small note -- Does everyone remember where we were? Without scrolling back to the last chapter, please. lol Yes, that's right. We were attending a funeral together with Booth and Brennan and our favourite soon-to-be-couple realized they were being followed.

- VII -

-- THE THIEF CATCHER --

The Thief Catcher is a torture device mostly used for transporting prisoners. It looks like a ring of spikes (similar to the Skull Splitter) but it has a sort of V-opening in the front with a spring. There is a pole attached to the ring, opposite the V-opening. When a prisoner was to be transported, his arm, leg or neck would be inserted through the V-opening, past the spring, and right in the middle of the spiked circle. The torturer could push and pull the pole attached to the ring as much as he wished, forcing the victim's limb or neck to be impaled.

This chapter is about keeping distance. Just like the torturers used the Thief Catcher to keep prisoners on a safe distance without allowing them to run away, Madman is doing the exact same thing with Booth and Brennan. He stays close without ever getting too close, but makes sure they don't forget about him.

Thursday November 29 - In front of the Jeffersonian - 18:34

An almost wicked smile was what he had been sporting the entire day. He was making her nervous even though she couldn't see him. He loved every second of this sweet torture. How she continuously threw suspicious glances over her shoulder, how she stayed closer than usual to that irritating FBI-agent, how for once she didn't argue with the bastard about him following her around...All indicators that he was slowly getting to her. His smile widened as he leaned back in his seat. From where he had parked his car, he could easily keep an eye on the exit of the Jeffersonian. The minute she stepped through those doors, he'd notice. Of course she would be escorted by that infuriating man, but he could tolerate him...for now. Brennan could smile at her partner as many times as she wanted to. She could make sure to have him near for as long as she liked. For all he cared, she could even lure the agent into her bedroom because in the end it wouldn't matter. He would take him away from her no matter what.

Sure, that man had rescued her from a perfect death while ruining his carefully constructed plans. Sure, he was allowed to touch Brennan in ways he could only dream about. But still, in the end he would suffer. He would personally see to it. But not just yet. First he had to see to other matters. Torturing the FBI-agent would be his masterpiece and as with all masterpieces, the preparation was time consuming. So all he could do right now was watch those two circle around each other, tolerating and attracting the other one's attention, like binary stars orbiting around their center of mass -- the evidence -- day after day. And when they weren't out solving cases, they bickered endlessly. Or they stared at each other all gooey-eyed over a piece of pie they regularly ate in a diner on a street corner. His stomach actually churned at the thought of catching the umpteenth secret glance they stole from each other. If he had been in the dating business, he would have nominated them as the "Couple in Denial" of the week. No, make that the year, he wryly thought. It sickened him how much they seemed to like each other. He truly couldn't understand why people liked touching and hugging each other when brute force was so much more attractive.

Brennan was inside now, in her comfortable, familiar lab, probably turning round and round inside that pretty little head of hers all of the clues they thought they had collected about him. It had to be driving her crazy not know who was behind the attacks, who was out to ruin her life. He bet she hardly slept at night. He chuckled devilishly. Disturbing the good doctor's rest was a welcome and entertaining side effect of his vengeful scheme. Pretty soon she'd wander around like a ghost with bloodshot eyes and dull skin. Perhaps then that stupid ass of a partner would abandon her. A sudden surge of anger and disgust engulfed him. Who did he think he was anyway, that smart-ass sniper?

Grimacing sourly, he tilted his head from side to side, snapping and cracking his neck. He could still hear her whisper the agent's name as he and Brennan had heard him shuffle around above their heads while they had been hidden from view in the basement. Relief and conviction had sounded loud and clear in her barely audible sigh. Her solid belief that he would find her hadn't wavered during her imprisonment. For that he had admired as well as despised her. How was it possible for her to be convinced that man would come to her rescue? She had been one second away from being molested, abused, torn to shreds mentally and yet she had held her head up high. Fearless and longingly Brennan had whispered his name.

Booth...Booth the Bastard, he thought wryly. Though he rather liked his nickname for the agent, he was careful pronouncing it only in his mind. To him it meant nothing but anger and disgust. Even as he repeated the name silently, it made him feel like spitting his disgust out on the ground. Thanks to Booth, all of his plans had been ruined. How the bastard has located his hide-out, he didn't even know. How bad his timing was, that he did know. Right before Brennan had defied him, he had lightly traced the strong line of her jaw with his fingertips. His touch had been soft, delicate, light as a feather right before it had turned rigid and cold, just like his smile. It was all he had wanted her to see. The hood he had been wearing had obscured everything from view except his frigid smile and soulless eyes.

"So pretty," he had hoarsely murmured. "Oh so pretty..." His eyes had flickered dangerously. "Too pretty," he had growled.

A blow, hard and unforgiving, had come out of nowhere. Her head had snapped upwards. Her lip had split as if he had torn it in two like a piece of paper. A drop of blood had welled up and he had felt a dying need to lick it up before shoving his tongue down her throat. He had been planning on finally giving in to his desires. Ripping her clothes off, forcing her body to bend against the rough basement wall, and nestling himself in her tightness had almost become reality. He had had it all in the palm of his hand and just like that, as elusive as a shuddering breath, she had uttered his name -- Booth...His entire plan had been shattered that instant...but not his desire. The need to push her up against a wall and bury himself in her as she screamed out in agony still coursed through his veins. It agitated him and fed his aching loins at night. It kept him on his toes and weakened his attention when he lost himself in visualizing what he'd do with her. If he ever wanted to fulfill his animalistic wanting, he'd have to be patient and eliminate them one by one.

Disgusted, he emptied the cup of coffee he had bought earlier onto the sidewalk. Brennan was his. There should be no hesitating. He should be able to grab her whenever he liked. She was his, entirely his. If only the entire world, including Brennan, could realize that. Booth -- a new wave of nausea hit him as a bitter taste filled his mouth upon thinking about the agent -- understood this need, how unorthodox it was. He crumpled his empty cup and threw it out of the window upon remembering the searing look Booth had sent Brennan as they had walked out of the hotel that morning. A world of longing had been in that intense stare -- a longing he understood far too well. He grimaced upon realizing there was a fundamental difference as well as a similarity between him and the FBI-agent. They both desired Brennan with every fiber of their being, but -- and this was what set them apart -- Brennan wasn't Booth's. Unlike the Bastard, he had every right to take her whenever he pleased. Booth was only an insignificant dot in the universe that happened to have the good fortune to be labeled as her partner.

Brennan was his. He had chained her to a wall to keep her near because he had wanted to have her close, because he wanted everyone to see she belonged to him. And yet those chains hadn't stopped that infuriating bastard from invading his home and whisking her away. Didn't the term "Private Property" mean anything these days? He sadly shook his head. A moment later his anger flared up again as he locked onto his targets. Through the entrance sliding doors of the Jeffersonian they came -- the pair he had been tailing all day. They both seemed tense. Brennan was focused on the black SUV parked in the far left corner of the parking lot whereas Booth kept a close eye on their surroundings. Could they see him? Just to be on the safe side, he slid down an inch or two in his seat. As much as he wanted to jump out of the car to strangle Booth and drag Brennan off by her hair, he had to restrain himself and bide his time. The right moment would present itself or he would create it soon enough.

He watched them get into the car and drive away without so much as giving him the slightest glance. With relief washing over him, he sat up straight again. They hadn't spotted him. His plan was still safe. After he had waited half a minute, he turned the ignition key and drove off in the direction the partners had gone. He could drive out of the parking lot without any problems thanks to the entrance badge he had managed to obtain. It had taken weeks before he had seen a chance to snatch it away from the parking lot guard's desk. Ever since some unknown nutcase had attacked the good doctor and one of her colleagues in the parking complex, security had become more stringent. They went through a lot of trouble to protect this place properly. Only they hadn't counted on a foolhardy millionaire -- one of the Jeffersonian benefactors -- turning on them. The new parking lot guard had been too easy to bribe. It was amusing how fast people turned deaf and blind if you waved a bundle of hundred dollar bills in front of them.

He whistled a relaxed tune as he tracked Booth and Brennan in the dense six o'clock traffic. Months in a row he had loyally surveyed the lab. He had seen her get in and out of her car, her mind always filled with bones and other scientific nonsense. He had seen her rush around the lab, spewing facts into a small voice recorder or tapping up smart reports in her office. He considered it fate -- a sure sign -- that she had accepted her job and he had been approached as benefactor on the exact same day. Long before Booth had come along, he had been in her life. His days had merely consisted of waiting for the lab to ask for his annual check, following up on Brennan's progress, and poring over copies of security tapes provided by the greedy guard. Witnessing her arrival in the morning and heading home late at night had been his favorite moments caught on tape. How she got in and out of her car had been a pleasure to look at.

Even now, after more than half a year without his precious tapes because he had contented himself with "watching the real stuff", his mouth still turned dry at the memory. She was his, undoubtedly. She belonged to him. His queen, simply and only his...His grip on the steering wheel tightened. Shaking his head to rid it of his vulgar thoughts, he forced his attention on the SUV driving three cars in front of him. If he wanted his plan to succeed, he'd have to track them to check if they'd change their habits now that danger was lurking around the corner.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of the hotel. To avoid raising suspicion, he drove on, turned the corner, and parked in the first available spot he saw. As fast as he could, but not too fast because he didn't want to attract anyone's unhealthy interest, he rounded the corner again and walked briskly along the sidewalk until he caught sight of a perfect hide-out. A furtive glance at the cars parked along the curb told him he was alone. Silently he retreated until he was flat against the brick front of the building next to the hotel. Shadows swallowed him gladly making it impossible for anyone to see him. His hands disappeared in the pockets of his coat as he peered skywards, at the light streaming out of several hotel windows. He could only guess what they were doing up there. A sudden surge of jealousy made him grit his teeth. He knew he had to get a grip on himself, but the feeling nearly overtook him. A couple of fierce shakes of his head and steady breathing calmed him.

Jealousy was replaced with cold resolution settling in the pit of his stomach. An equally cold smile tugged at his lips. For a moment he felt like laughing. His threat was unnecessary. He had long since decided Booth had to disappear and the only way to get the guy out of the picture was taking him out permanently -- erasing him. It would be like hitting the 'Delete' key. His fate would be the same as that obnoxious boyfriend's. He tore his gaze away from the hotel to stare up at the buildings across the street. How easy it could be to find out on what floor they were, break into one of the buildings he was currently studying, go up high enough, and repeat stage I of his plan. How easy and how impossible it would be. Not only had he already disposed his rifle, it would testify to a lack of imagination if he gave in to his impulses. His plan consisted of various stages, each well-thought out and prepared in detail. He'd throw it all out of the window if he went and sealed Booth's fate in the exact same way he had taken that other guy's life. But still...It was a tempting idea.

Just then the object of his morbid fantasies came striding out of the Park Hyatt Washington. Booth halted in the middle of the sidewalk and put his hands in his pockets. Cold night air enveloped Booth as a chilly November wind sent his rapidly-cooling breath whirling around his face. Unconsciously he pressed himself closer to the building. It would be a disaster if the agent spotted him. He'd have to take him out earlier than planned if that was the case and if there was one thing that unsettled him, it was prematurely executing well-constructed plans. It left such a mess killing someone on impulse.

Making sure he was barely breathing because even the slightest breath turned into a miniature cloud of mist that could give away his position, he watched Booth inspect his surroundings. The agent's eyes slid slowly over every parked car, making sure no-one was hiding in one of them. His gaze halted on the opposite buildings for a moment and then continued its path. Booth even searched his side of the sidewalk, but to his relief the agent didn't seem to distinguish his form in the shadows.

When Booth started to his car, he quietly grunted in approval. As much as he wanted -- needed -- the bastard to go down, it wasn't his time yet. Soon it would be. Soon they would meet. But not just yet. First he had some other business to take care of. He turned intending on calling it a day, but he froze when he noted a difference in Booth's footsteps. Instead of the echo of his footfalls dying away, it grew stronger. His eyes widened and he began edging closer to the buildings in an attempt to completely vanish in the shadows. As quietly as possible he moved down the street, ignoring the urge to look over his shoulder. He couldn't afford looking too suspicious now. It would be devastating for his plan. He had to remain calm, inconspicuous, and invisible like a shadow.

He inwardly cursed when Booth picked up his pace. And to his horror he could no longer control himself. It was a furtive glance; it lasted no more than a second. But it was enough to cause Booth to walk even faster. He mumbled incoherently under his breath, quickly threw a look around, and slipped into an alleyway on his right where the light of the streetlamps didn't reach. Once he was around the corner he broke into a run. But so did Booth. He heard him approaching, heard him come hurtling around the corner. Booth was on his tail.

The prey had become the hunter.

He had been discovered.

Well, anyone shivering out there? Not to sound big-headed, but I reckon this is a nice chapter to jumpstart the story again, what do you say?