Why the fuck had he let her go?!

Adam paced Mac's office, raking his hands roughly through his hair as he scolded himself over and over. If he'd told her to stay, sure she might hate him, but at least she'd be alive, damnit!

He stopped, sucking in a breath. No, she was alive, goddamn it, she'd be fine. They just had to find her first. He went back to his pacing, remembering how close they were only a few months ago.

-

December 25, 2007

It'd been well over a year, almost two, since they'd seen each other.

And both were perfectly content to spend they're vacations in his bed. Marcy smiled at him, from her position on his chest.

"What?" He asked, a grin creeping over his features as she bit her lip.

"Nothin'…" Marcy chuckled, nuzzling his neck as she sat up slightly.

Adam brushed back some of her hair…it'd grown out since he last seen her. He liked it long. "It's not nothin'…what's up?"

She looked away from him, a small smile contently resting on her pale pink lips. "I just missed this…this town, this bed, and of course it's nice to have you around as well, Beaker."

He twirled a piece of her dark hair around his finger. "Do…do you still, well, ya know…"

Marcy looked down at him, sadly, "you know I wouldn't string you along if I didn't love you, Adam."

Pensively, he asked, "how long can you stay, Marce?"

"How long do you want me?" She shrugged, lying back on his chest.

"As long as I can have you." He sighed, "I like having you around."

"Just because I'm not here doesn't mean you don't have me."

-

"Adam?"

He jumped, spinning around to meet his boss' concerned gaze. "Oh, boss, uh w-what's up? Any, any news or…?"

Mac shook his head, "I'm sorry, but the FBI has requested our help…and since you're the best trained in computer knowledge we'd like you to-"

"Don't." Adam said, cutting him off as his blue eyes moistened, "Please don't make me watch the tape, Mac."

His employer stared at him, "I'm sorry, really, I am but-"

"No!" His voice echoed through out the room, "I'm not gonna sit down and watch some fucker hurt her-I'm sorry but I can't. I won't."

"I know it's hard, Adam but right now you're the only thing that can help. You're the only one that can help Marcy." Mac kept his voice firm, trying not to be swayed by the man's tears.

"Please, Mac," Adam was begging now, "don't make me watch it."

Mac narrowed his steely blues at him, "Damnit, if you loved her like you say, you'd be looking for a way to help her! Not just sitting around and moping!"

"Fine." He nodded, tears falling from his eyes as he glared at his boss, "but you have to watch it with me."

-

Her head lobbed to the side as he tried to take hold of her face again.

"Aw, come on, kitten, let's see those pretty blues." The man chuckled darkly as she continued to twist away from him. He snuck his dirty nails into the soft flesh of her cheeks, dragging them down, and growled, "I ain't askin', bitch."

Jerking her head in his direction, he smiled to himself as she bit down on the gag. "That's better. Now, since you refuse to play along, I'm gonna give you a li'l somethin' to remember me by."

Her eyes widened as she heard a *click*, and a switchblade came into view.

-

Mac looked at Adam. "Ready?"

The man nodded, and Mac popped the tape in, watching as the images came into view on a large computer screen.

Adam flinched as a woman came into view, arms secured behind her back with rope; face down on a blood stained mattress. Dark hair lay sprawled and dirty, around her, whilst she lay still.

Mac let out a breath as the figure finally moved, and heard the same response from the seat next to him. Adam raised his shaking fingers to the keyboard. The image enlarged.

It was definitely Marcy, although it was hard to tell through the blood and cuts, but it was her.

"It's dark in there." He muttered and Mac nodded. "Yeah, find out where that light is coming from."

He pulled the frame back, fast forwarding and rewinding until…

"A window."

Mac turned to him, "What?"

He clicked some keys, and the previous image came up; Marcy's eyes were squeezed shut and the man (whose face they had never gotten a clear view of) was holding her by the front of her crimson stained t-shirt. Just above them was a small dirty window.

"Do you think you can get an outside image?" Mac asked. The FBI had already had the man's whereabouts down to a two mile radius, thanks to one of Jack Hodgins' grad students, who had processed one of the articles of clothing the bastard had sent back to them.

"Yeah," Adam smiled, smirked, really, "I got it."

A license plate.

-

She could taste blood. Her own, of course, had slipped through the cotton gag when he'd…cut her. Behind her, a bottle broke, and she instinctively brought her legs back up to her battered, scrawny body.

"Why do you always have to be so difficult?" He said, turning her over so he could see her face. "Hmm. Scabbed over. Good."

Gripping his throat he pushed her back down on the mattress as he slipped another hand between her legs. "Stay still." He growled, putting his hands on her hips as she thrashed weakly against him.

-

"You're sure this is the right address?" Caroline asked, eying the man wearily as Mac once again assured her it was. "Because I can't just go bustin' in to someone's home, Detective Taylor, murdering bastard or not."

"Don't forget masochistic mother-" Sweets started but silenced when she shot him a look, "…and I'm stopping."

"We're sure, Adam checked it three times over." Mac said, gaze set on the pair, "Adam doesn't fuck around when it comes to Marcy."

"Alright," Caroline nodded and pressed a dial on the phone, holding a finger up to the young man, "Sweets if you don't shut it, I'mma shut it for you."

"Shutting it." He said, looking down as he sighed.

"Agent Booth-yes, yes-if you stopped interrupting me maybe I'd tell you. Yes. Good, now she's at…"