Dearest Readers and Reviewers,
It seems like forever since I have last updated. I almost gave up on my story, too. Almost. I had half of this chapter written, and then things went downhill. Anyways, a new season of Bones started. I was cursing myself. Why hadn't I finished the story before the season started? Now everything would be incorrect. Then came the Perfect Pieces in the Purple Pond, in my opinion, one of the best episodes EVER. But after this episode, I stopped trying to write this chapter, thinking that it would be too factually wrong to continue. BUT there is more to this story. People STILL kept reviewing, even during this big break in my writing. Someone just subscribed to my story two days ago. Someone reviewed my story last weekend. How could I have ever though to abandon you forever? How could I have been so selfish? Yes, these are the questions that I ponder late at night. xD So here it is, dearies. The eighth chapter of "Journey." FINALLY!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, nor any aspect of .
Author Says: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! And enjoy.
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After a slightly shaken Dr. Temperance Brennan hung up the phone, she looked to her partner in despair. Her student, part of her mixed up little family…was going to die. Angela was first to speak.
"Well, play it back Booth!"
Seeley Booth, whose eyes were locked with the anthropologist reached over to press the play button on the tape recorder. Hodgins and Angela, the only two who hadn't heard the disturbing phone call yet, listened intently. After it was over Hodgins cussed and banged his fist on the armrest of the couch.
"So that's it?" he said, "He's just going to die?"
Cam silently stood up and walked over to the doorway, "I'll be in my office if anyone needs me," she called over her shoulder before retreating.
Bones shook her head, "Warm and cold. Warm and cold," she mumbled to herself.
"What?" the FBI agent looked at his partner strangely.
"You heard him," she muttered, "Something about warm and cold. It must mean something."
"Well why would he be cold?" Booth asked incredulously, "It's nearing the end of August. It must be nearly 85 degrees outside!"
"Maybe he's sick," Angela suggested, "And he has a fever."
"Could be," her fiancé said patting her knee with one hand, and rubbing his temples with the other.
"No," the forensic anthropologist shook her head, "There was something about the way he said those words. It was like…he wanted to convey a message to me without his captor knowing."
"I did hear him put down a stack of papers," Seely pondered, looking up at the ceiling and scratching the back of his neck nervously.
"Maybe the apprentice injected him with poison. That could explain why he was feeling cold. He did tell us that 'his wish would be granted soon.' The poison could be killing him" Hodgins shrugged his shoulders.
"That's a plausible theory," Dr. Brennan nodded her head in agreement, "Why don't you test the scrap of paper we found earlier for fingerprints?"
The man got up and proceeded to Dr. Saroyan's office, where he had left the possible evidence.
"Ange?" the woman asked her best friend.
"Yeah sweetie?" the artist replied, visibly shaken by the whole ordeal.
"Could you look up any fatal poisons that would give a person chills?"
"S...sure," Angela stuttered, "R...right away," she made her way slowly to the main lab room.
Booth turned to the other woman, giving her a solemn glance and opening his arms up in welcome. She gladly accepted his kind welcome, and he pulled her into a firm embrace, "We'll find him Bones," he comforted.
"I know," she sniffed, trying to hold back her threatening tears, "But I don't know if we'll do that soon enough."
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Zack's POV
I woke up to a small whirring noise coming from the air vents in my "prison." As I recollected the previous events that had taken place after the shooting and sat up straight, my head began to throb so much that it made it nearly impossible to think.
These past few nights sleeping on these cement floors have less than pleasant to me. Death is approaching; I know this for a fact. I am well aware that it is scientifically incorrect to make assumptions of this magnitude, but I feel certain that my life is severely threatened. And that causes me to ponder some things.
Did Dr. Brennan get my message? How are the others holding up? Does Cam still despise me?
Unfortunately, because of the pain coming from my head, descending down my body and making me feel numb; I can't concentrate for too long. My captor, the other apprentice, struck me directly in the back of my head with a wooden bat, last night. I am surprised that I remember that much because it is rather evident that I fell unconscious afterwards.
While monitoring my captor's comings and goings, I have developed a plan of escape that is possibly the most ridiculous thing I have ever thought of, but the only thing that could possibly work. My limbs are weak as of now, but perhaps if I give myself another day or two, I can put my plan into action. I know this is foolish, though. I was just recently shot and my hands are less than useless.
Suddenly I heard footsteps coming from behind me and the opening and shutting of the metal door.
"Hello Dr. Addy," the apprentice sneered and picked up the bat.
He laughed.
I suppose my expression gave away my ultimate fear. I wasn't scared of much in the world. There was my irrational fear of polka dots and the fear of losing my knowledge, but other than that there was nothing.
Until Iraq.
During my time in Iraq, I had felt more helpless than ever before. I was made a mockery by the other soldiers. They teased me about everything I did and every word I said. Sure, I wasn't physically superior to other men, but I was exceptional. I could only do half the amount of push-ups as the enrolled soldiers, but that is more than I can say for a great part of the workers in the Jeffersonian.
I always believed that my mental strength was more important then my physical strength. I still do, only to less of an extent. Mental strength is virtually the only thing that I have to show for myself. And that's not a bad thing when I am surrounded by my fellow "squints," as Agent Booth would call us. And sometimes, it's not too bad when speaking to everyday citizens. I succeed to impress people with my high IQ and my knowledge of scientific equations that would puzzle any one of my old college professors. However, soldiers are a different story.
Through the physical and tactical labor that American soldiers put forth, they become harder for a person like me to understand. War changes people more than I wanted believe when I ventured to Iraq. Soon after my arrival, I succumbed to this change, whether I wanted to or not. It changed me in a different way than the others. Instead of becoming seemingly tougher and more open towards the others, becoming "brothers," I think that I drew my self away from society even more…if that was even possible.
Even when I got back, I could tell that everyone sensed the difference in my natural behavior. They saw my scars, those that could heal over time…and those that could not. They wanted to help me recuperate, but I denied them their attempts. For that month after I came home, I was in the place that kept me stable. The lab. My work gave me purpose, something that I could not find in the army. Something that the army could not find in me. So, I preoccupied my wandering thoughts and frequent nightmares by concentrating on what I felt that I needed to be doing.
Eventually, this got tiresome. How it happened, I still can't not resolve. Perhaps it was because everyone else had something better to do than to do experiments with me. Angela and Hodgins were wrapped up in their pursuit to get Angela's husband to sign the divorce papers, so she and Hodgins could elope. Booth never wanted everything to do with me. Even Dr. Brennan was loosing her desire to work 24/7. She did her job. All of them did their jobs, but minus the old enthusiasm. Then, there was Cam.
Dr. Saroyan could have cared less about work. If one was to ask her if she wanted to be at the lab when she was working on something her answer would have been, no. She confided in me one night, a week after I returned, in a way that I will never forget.
"Zach?" Camille Saroyan said a looming question in her voice.
"Yes Dr. Saroyan?" I muttered with a quizzical expression on my face.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Is it relevant to the case at hand?"
She sighed, "No. Something completely different."
"Oh," I pondered shock, "Yes, you can tell me something. You're my boss, you don't have to ask."
"This isn't a conversation between a boss and employee, Zach. This is a small chat between two close friends."
I furrowed my brow. She'd never referred to us as friends before, "Okay."
"Right before I came to work at the Jeffersonian, I dated a man name Kevin..." she started, quietly.
I'd never heard this one before. I motioned for her to continue.
"I...I've never told anyone this before, so you have to keep hushed up about it. Got it?"
I pursed my lips together in a line and nodded affirmatively.
"Good. Anyways, we met at a bar. It was late at night; I'd had a few drinks. So did Kevin. He took me to my house and we...participated in some...physical stimulation."
I blinked a few times and continued to nod. Why was she telling me this?
"The next day," she went on, "I woke up in shock. I didn't quite remember how I'd gotten there and how the man beside me ended up in my bed. But I found myself unable to care. I adored him. We had several more dates before he…asked me to move in with him. I said no; we barely knew each other. He didn't take it so well. He threatened me repeatedly for about a month, sending me angry text messages and nasty emails. I still loved him. Of all the stupid things I've done in my life, continuing my relationship with him and loving him was the stupidest one of all. Finally, he broke it off with me. Of course I was devastated. I was such an idiot."
She was cursing herself in her head, then, I could tell. I nodded ever so intently, still puzzled to why she was saying this. She must have noticed my puzzlement, because she explained the reason in a sharp, quick sentence.
"He was killed yesterday."
My eyes looked around nervously as I cleared my throat to speak, "Oh."
I had never quite mastered empathy or the ability to comfort. My own emotions were so distant, that I could barely be sympathetic toward myself. I bit my lip to have a crack at it, "I'm sorry."
Her eyes flashed up to my anxious face and then she muttered bitterly, "You shouldn't be. He was a horrible man. He got himself killed in a gang fight. He was pawning off prescription drugs."
I didn't know what to say to this. He did seem like a pretty awful person, though I had never master judging people, either.
"But..." Dr. Saroyan's voice was suddenly filled with threatening tears, "I still feel bad. Is it wrong for me to care for him, after all the things he did. After all the people he hurt. Isn't it wrong?"
I tentatively extended my arm to pat her shoulder, "I don't think so. I'm not...one for psychology, but maybe your feelings of attachment to him prevented you from seeing the faults in his logic and his actions. So...feeling bad for him now, is just an aftereffect. Dr. Brennan still loves her father, despite the fact that she is a very logical woman and he has done many wrongs...and you still care about Kevin."
Her mouth tilted up into a smile. Without looking up, she said, "Thank you, Zach," and went to her office to look over some case files that Booth had left off for her.
Now, when I think of what I said to her, I think of myself. Angela, Dr. Brennan, Hodgins, and even Cam still cared about me. Maybe even Booth. The master's logic was not irrefutable, but I had still fallen for it. There were blatant faults in my logic and my actions. I was feeling more like Kevin all the time.
"So, Dr. Addy," the man sneered, "Are you ready to help me one last time?"
I looked down at the floor, "I have…conditions…Master."
"I'll show you conditions," the former apprentice yelled in his grisly voice.
Before I could see it coming, I was on the ground. The baseball bat was held above my head. Blood dripped out of my nose and splattered on the concrete floor. I sat up quickly, fearing my life, and held the bridge of my nose. My new master just laughed and tapped the bat against his hand, as if ready to strike again.
"My friends," I whimpered, "I'd like it if they remained safe."
He grinned, "You don't have any friends in this world, Dr. Addy. It's just you and me, now."
I shuddered and he continued.
"But, if you are speaking of your former colleagues, I'm afraid I just can't guarantee their safety. They know too much."
"Master," I pleaded, "I will do anything to keep them safe."
This just made his grin grow larger, "Ok. Here's what you're gonna do. Take this box," the apprentice held up a package that undoubtedly contained some set of human remains, "And deliver it to the Jeffersonian. Hand deliver it, personally. Once you have handed it off to one of your lady friends down at the lab, I want you to take this, and bite it. Hard."
The man held up in the other hand a small capsule of liquid.
"Poison?" I gasped.
"Is there a problem, Zach? It's either you or them. Whose life do you treasure more?"
There was no hesitation, "I'll do it," I let go of my dripping nose, reached out for the package, and slipped the capsule into my pocket.
"Very good," the man before me rumbled in chuckles.
Before, had I known the day of my death, I would have planned it meticulously, calculating every minute. But now, I think it is better to just rush forward, straight into death. Leave the Dr. Zachary Uriah Addy that was once worth something to be nothing more.
And it seemed right in a way. The ultimate sacrifice. Kill one to save the others. My only hope was that this untimely death would go as planned.
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So I hoped you all enjoyed this long awaited update. I love you all dearly for continuing to review and subscribe.
And HAPPY HALLOWEEN!