A: N/ Please enjoy and then review if you can…thanks!
Dis.: Don't own Bones!
A door is the last thing that stands in his way. He' searched for her for two weeks, sleeping no more than an hour a night. He's used all his favors, cussed and yelled at their squints to help him find her, hell, he hasn't eaten a meal sitting down for two weeks.
And in those fourteen agonizing days, he realized something.
A guy doesn't feel this way about his missing partner. Sure, he feels rightfully concerned or ashamed, he feels guilty that his partner is missing and not him, but he doesn't feel like he's dead on his feet. He doesn't feel like his heart isn't beating, like his blood has stopped pumping when a lead turns out to be false. He doesn't. It's as simple as that.
But lovers…
They feel this way. He has known this feeling never before, but he knows now. He knows what it is like missing a piece of yourself, and searching every where to get her back, only to hit a brick wall at every turn. Or in this literal case, a locked closet door.
He doesn't think. He doesn't want to think about what she's been through. He doesn't want to remember his times as a prisoner, his scars that painfully remind every time he's in the shower or changing for work. But he has to, because if he doesn't, he'd sit around fooling himself into thinking she'll walk back through her office door any day, sipping her coffee and berating him on his alpha-male characteristics. He's a first class deceiver.
He's deceived himself to many times to count.
He's fooled himself into not being sore when he wakes up in the morning. He's tricked himself into pretending he doesn't mind his partner talking about her sexual rendezvous' with his co-workers.
All because of those time he was caught, where he saw what hatred truly looked like unbridled in a man's eyes. That is why he knows how to fool his mind and heart at the same time.
Practice.
He knows the feeling of true hunger, the feeling of sitting in your own mess of vomit and feces, not even noticing the smell you're in so much pain.
He can't take it anymore.
Seconds later the door is gone, splinters flying through the air and onto the back of a burly man, lying atop the thin and gaunt frame of the highly temperamental and territorial F.B.I agent's partner.
The agent rushes in, and within two steps, his pistol is at the base of the skull.
He can feel his ranger heart beating again, and after suppressing it for so long, it beats ten times more powerful than ever before.
Pull…the…trigger… it thumps, loud in his ears. All he sees is red, his eyes pulsating as he contemplates adding one more son a bitch to his growing penance list.
But it's her soft cry that brings him back to reality.
"Booth." She chokes, her throat filling with a sob as he rips the man off of her. The bastards exposed, but it looks like it didn't get any farther than skin to skin.
He thanks god he opened that door when he did.
Pinning the man to the side wall, he cuffs him and hands him off to another agent. He'll take care of that bastard in sometime soon. Now is when his Bones needs him.
He kneels beside where she is curled on the soiled mattress. Taking her hand in his, he soothingly brushes her bangs back, cursing inwardly at each bruise he can now see clearly.
"Booth…he was…Booth, please stay with me." She whispers as another wave of shakes rack her body. Her stress is being released, he understands immediately. When he was freed, he had to deal with the shakes for six months strait, until he was finally able to get a handle on them and return to a semi-normal life.
"Shh…Bones. It's all over. It's okay. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." He comforts her, un-strapping his cumbersome bullet-proof fest so he can move more freely. He guides her head to rest on his bent thighs; she sniffles and looks up at him as he strokes her hair once more.
"You're really here?" She questions, reaching out a grimy hand to caress his sleeve. He nods, his heart breaking slowly as her eyes comb over his face and a disbelieving frown appears on hers.
"Yes Bones, I'm real. And so are you. I'm gonna get you out of here, and get you home again, okay?" He tells her, smoothing her knotted hair so that it rests behind her ear.
"Thank you." She whispers, before losing consciousness on his knees. Its then he releases that her pants have been crudely yanked down, exposing her snow white thighs to the room of agents.
Ruefully, he replaces her head on the mattress and leans over to slide her jeans back up, buckling them at her hips.
She starts crying again, stress leaking from her body while she sleeps.
He winces, noticing how bruised she is, and is careful not to jostle her as he picks her up and carries her bridal style over the threshold of her cell.
A: N/ Reviews are magical…please leave me something to believe in other than reality.