Ok, so for once I actually kept my promise and managed to write a bit more. I apologise if these chapters seem a bit rushed or unedited but I haven't had too much time to do them.

Thankyou everyone who reviewed last chapter. Please feel free to leave comments, thoughts or criticism

Disclaimer: Though I can wish, I do not own bones or FOX or any of its characters

The next day Booth was stationed at the cell. His plan was eager to escape from his mind and trasform into reality but he had to wait until the right time.

The night before Booth had asked Brason if he could see her again tonight, maybe, if he was lucky, hit her a bit. Brason hadn't seen the harm, so had shrugged and agreed – same time, same place, same secret.

After 4 hours of waiting, Booth decided that no-one was likely to come to the cell. He made sure once again that no-one was around – he needn't have bothered – the place was deserted. Slowly, so as not to look suspicious is someone did happen to stumble across the cell and notice him, he reached his hands behind his back and felt for the metal bar. His fingers touched the smooth surface, hot from the heat. Slowly, he began to slide it out from its confinements. The metal scraped harshly against the poles, rusted from years holding prisoners. He felt the bar give way is it was let free. He bent down and gently laid it in the dust.

He wandered around the cell, watching for signs of activity, but the closest human life was 200 metres away, a speck in the glazed heat of the desert.

He returned to the doorway. He pressed his fingers to the dirt-flecked door. The metal burned his hands, and he wiped them on his pants to no effect and tried again. The hinges groaned as he quickly pushed it open and held it open by his back.

Light filtered into the dark cell, and finally he could clearly see the pitiful inside of the dusty hell. He could see the woman – she was in the same position as the night before, a crumpled heap in the corner. Now she was bathed in light, she looked even worse. Her skin was sallow and tight, the red scratches gleaming. He bent down on one knee, his pants immediately becoming soaked in dirt. He gently rocked her back and forth.

No response.

He shook her slightly harder, but still she didn't move. He had to wake her up somehow. He couldn't try pinching her – she was in enough pain and probably wouldn't feel it anyway.

He brought his hands to his waist. A cannister of water hung loosely from his belt. The water was his days' provisions, but it was a worthy reason to give it up. He opened her mouth and titled the bottle to her mouth, hoping he was doing it right and not choking her.

The woman responded as soon as the water hit her throat. Her eyes flickered and opened slowly. They began to flitter shut again but Booth shook her gently to keep her awake. Finally she seemed to recognise he was there.

"Who...who are you?" she croaked. She sounded scared, as though he was another guard, come to cause her terror. But Booth made sure that he wasn't mistaken.

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth," he spoke slowly, knowing she probably wasn't too receptive at the current moment. "I'm from the FBI in America. I'm here to save you." Gee, that sounded corny. "Now, listen, can you sit up?"

The woman nodded and tried to force herself to a sitting position, but as soon as her weight fell on her wrists she cried out in pain and fell to the floor again. Booth looked at her wrists – they were swollen and bloody. He slivered his arm underneath her and gentley lifted her up. He rested her head against his shoulder to give her support, and she was grateful. Her head sunk into him. He offered her his water and she gladly began to gulp it down.

While she drunk Booth explained what was happening. "Tonight, I'll be here with a guard, Brason."

At the sound of his name, her eyes shot wide open. He could see the fear dancing in the blue. "Please..." she whimpered.

"No, don't worry. I'm playing along. Look, tonight he said he'd bring me here to hit you. But don't worry-", he reassured her before she could say anything, "I won't. I'm going to take him down and get you out of here and back home, safely," he promised.

"Now, I need you to stay still when we come in – pretend you're unconcious. If he knows you're awake, he'll make it worse." She nodded, knowing this was true.

"I'll tell you what to do after he's out. It may take a while to get him fully down and out, so you can't move, even if he hits you, ok?"

She nodded, understanding. He carefully wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I know how hard this must be for you, and I know that I can't say anything to make you feel better, but I promise you, I will get you out of here and back home to..?"

"America. I live in DC."

"Alright. Now, look, I wish I could help your injuries, but if I do Brason and Bruce will get suspicious, and that could mean more trouble for you." He held out the water bottle once more, encouraging her to finish it. She took it and drained it until not even drops splashed out of the opening.

"Thankyou...Seeley?"

"Booth. Don't call me Seeley."

"Ok," she whispered, beginning to close her eyes again. "I'm...Temperance..." Her words cut off as she fell into a deep, painful slumber. Looks like she might not have to fake being unconcious tonight, Booth thought, worried.

He wondered how he would get her to safety in her condition, unnoticed.

He quietly slipped out of the cell, wishing he could do more to help, but the guards would definantly know it was him – he was the only guard on duty at this cell. He quickly ran out into the baking sun, burning him in microseconds. He shut the door, sliding the bar back into place, enveloping the cell into darkness once more.

Sorry if some of the lines and actions seem a bit corny or cliched. Please leave your thoughts!