Well here is chapter 7

Disclaimer still don't own booth :( but only playing with him a little:)

Chapter 7 Booth's pain and The Rescue:

Thanks to penandra for the awesome beta she has done for this chapter.

I think I am going to need a beta for the rest of the story and previous chapters if any one can help me you can PM me and I can send you the chapters that are already done and what I am writing at the moment

With that said on with chapter 7

Three months later, back at the compound:

Booth was awakened by guards busting open the door to his cell. Unable to
stand or walk on his own, the guards dragged him out of the cell to the
torture room. He was strapped to a board with electrical contacts.

One of the guards walked to a lever on the wall. The guards grinned at each
other as one of them flipped the switch. Booth screamed as he felt electric
current flow through his body. Flipping the switch off, the guards started
the interrogation, throwing question at Booth.

"Who sent you to kill the general?"

"Who owns that drone belong to that flew over the compound?"

"Who sent you?"

"Where are you stationed?"

After each question, the guard would flip the switch and laugh as Booth's body
responded to the electrical current flowing through it.

The torture continued with Booth remaining unresponsive to their questions
repeating only his name, rank, and serial number, "Booth, Master Sergeant,
two-three-five-seven-nine-six." It became his mantra. No matter what they
screamed at him, his response was the same.

After several hours, one of the guards screamed at him, "If you think you will
be rescued, forget it. The camp is booby-trapped. There is no way anyone
will get through to save your sorry **."

With another flip of the switch, Booth lapsed into unconsciousness. Coming to
crumpled in a corner of his cell Booth realized that he had been dragged back
at some point. Although usually an optimistic man, Booth felt himself
slipping into the throes of despair. Not sure if anyone even knew where he
was. He thought of his family and friends. Would they ever know what
happened to him, how he died, that his last thoughts were of them?

Meanwhile, back at base camp, a team led by General Johnson and Captain Davis
was assembling a team of men to attempt a rescue and extraction mission. A
quick briefing about the mission was held just before they boarded the
chopper. Pointing to the map, Captain Davis pointed to where they anticipated
the chopper would drop them off and the route they would take.

"We'll be headed south and anticipate that once we get to Booth's cover
position, we'll be able to see into the compound where we believe Master
Sergeant Booth is being held," the Captain told the assembled men. "This is
going to be a challenging mission," looking around at the group, the Captain
nodded, "and each of you has been selected because of your expertise. The
chopper is here, let's head out!"

The chopper headed to the drop zone. As each man exited the chopper with his
weapon and supplies his thoughts were focused on the mission ahead. Each of
them was aware that no matter how much planning is put into a mission, there
are always surprises. But they each knew that they could depend on the
soldier beside them, the rest of the team.

Under cover of night, the team approached Booth's cover position. Finding his
sniper rifle still in its cradle, a member of the team disassembled it and
slipped into his backpack. If they were unsuccessful in the rescue, the rifle
might be able to provide them with some clues to what had happened.

Corporal Parker's binoculars were also found in the sniper nest. Standing
where the binoculars had been found, Captain Davis used them to scan the area,
hoping to glean some clues from Parker's last perspective on the compound.

Watching the activity in the compound below them, the team observed four
guards exiting a building that looked like it served as a guard house. The
rescue team watched as two of the guards walked toward and entered another
structure. A few minutes later the two guards exited the building dragging a
third man between them. It was Booth. Emaciated and bloodied the man
appeared to be unable to help himself as he was dragged across the compound by
the two men.

Each of the team members watched as Booth was dragged across the compound to
yet another out building. When they didn't make a re-appearance, the Captain
issued reconnaissance orders to the team members. While two team members
remained in Booth's sniper nest to observe the comings and goings within the
compound below them.

As each team member returned from his recon activities, he briefed the Captain
and General on what had been observed. Guard routes and schedules were
identified. Booby traps and decoys were ascertained and noted on the map.
When all of the team had returned and been briefed and plan was formulated.

The team members watching from Booth's sniper nest confirmed that Booth,
looking much worse than he had just a few hours before, had been dragged back
across the courtyard and thrown into the same structure he'd been dragged
from.

Not sure if he was able to discern between reality and his imagination, Booth
thought he heard gunfire and shouting. Trying to determine if it was his mind
playing tricks on him, Booth struggled to stay conscious. He wasn't sure how
much more he could take and he knew that he wouldn't put it past the guards
that had been torturing him to try and play a trick on him to get him to
talk.

He heard other cell doors being opened and, although he tried to stay strong,
he couldn't stop his imagination from taking over. It seemed like forever
since he had been captured. He felt abandoned by his unit and was lost in
despair.

The door to his cell clanged open. With the light streaming in behind the
figure in the doorway, he couldn't determine who was there, friend or foe?

His answer came when he heard the southern twang of Captain Davis call for a
medic. As relief flooded through him, Booth's vision clouded and he felt
himself passing out. "No, not now. They're here. I'm saved. Please, God,
don't let me die here. My family, my friends, please." He felt himself
falling and then only darkness.

"Medic! Now! He's here! In this last cell! Now! We need you now!" Captain
Davis screamed. Looking around the cell, the Captain was astounded at the
degradation man can do to his fellow man. Although the sight of what he saw
in that cell made him feel sick to his stomach, all he could think of was
saving the man before him. Knowing that there would not be enough room in the
small cell for the medics to work on Booth, he hooked his hands under Booth's
armpits and, turning in the small space, dragged Booth out of the cell.

Laying him out in the yard for the waiting medics, Captain Davis motioned to
the team leader. "We've got Booth, who else was here?"

Looking at his Captain dejectedly, the Leader of Team C shook his head. "No
other survivors sir. We've identified one other American and at least one
Canadian. I have one of each of their dog tags and have left the other on the
bodies for the Mortuary crew."

As the rest of the buildings were cleared, insurgents were rounded up and
moved into the cells that had just been emptied. When they returned to the
muster point, team members briefed the Captain and General as the medics
continued working on Booth.

Captain Davis kept his eyes on the horizon to the north. Although it appeared
that he was only watching for the rescue chopper, he was also listening in on
the medics working on Booth. The catalogue of injuries was disheartening. If
he survived, and knowing Booth the Captain was sure that he would, the chronic
pain he would have to live with would be challenging. Glancing at the man
lying on the back board the medics had fashioned for him, the Captain
reflected back on the Booth that he knew. That man. That Booth. He's a
survivor. He's a fighter.

The team heard the chopper's rotary blades before they saw it rise over the
wall of the compound coming in for a landing. Relief washed over them.
Captain Davis acknowledged the mix of emotions going through him that they had
not been able to rescue all of the men being held captive, he relished the
awareness that at least they had been able to rescue Master Sergeant Booth.

Then, just as the chopper was setting down he heard one of the medics yell
out, "We've lost his pulse. There's no pulse."

To be continued