Im sorry, once again I broke my promise. So I won't promise this time, I'll just say that I'll TRY to update as soon as possible

Once again, thanks to those who reviewed last chapter, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review this chapter and give me some IDEAS!!!! Im sorry, but I'm desperate.

And I apologise if this chapter is a bit of a repeat but I like to have a bit of Brennan in there to, considering she's usually unconcious.

Thanks guys!

Brennan lay still, breathing heavily. Her arm was uncomfrotable under the weight of her body, and her legs were stiff from being curled for over an hour. She guessed that it would be dark right about now, but she couldn't be sure. The best she could do was to wait.

She remembered what Booth had said. To stay put. Act unconcious. But her mind was fuzzy, and as eyes struggling to stay open, she knew her acting would be over very shortly. She wondered why a guy like him would want to save a girl like her – she had no cause to live, and she didn't really care any more. Her mind was constantly nagging at her to give up, let go, give in to the dark abyss, but her heart was telling her to fight.

But Brennan had always listened to her head. She trusted her brain more then her heart. She didn't know what to do.

She heard voices draw closer outside. Immediately she shut her eyes and lay perfectly still, even though she was facing the wall.

Following the storyline with her ears, she heard somone bang against the cold metal door, unleashing the pole from its restraints. The force sounded as though it was one of the larger men, either Bruce or Brason, but she couldn't be sure. Usually she could do the simple math in her head, but her brain had stopped working days ago.

She felt foolish for wondering who it was – the matter was unimportant. Right now she should be concerned for what was to come, for her life.

Her ears keen, she heard the thump as the pole was thrown into the dirt. The familiar creak of the opening door was not reassuring, and her eyes flickered behind their closed lids as she tried to feign unconciousness. Moonlight flooded onto the floor, and she watched as the dirt next to her face was lit up, colourful as Christmas lights. She felt the ground vibrate as the men stepped closer.

And then a sound she dreaded.

The door closed.

Now there was no chance of escape.

As if there ever was.

She tried to slow her breathing. She couldn't see what was happening, and her ears were decieving her now. All she could do was to wait until they beat her, and base what was happening from the pain.

The first touch happened quicker then she expected. She was grabbed fiercly by the arm, and she struggled to remain still as she was rolled onto her back. She tried not to make it too obvious that she was acting, adn that wasn't too hard. She couldn't move her arms or legs anyway. They rolled with the motion.

She waited for the next blow, and she felt it in the side of her stomach. Her breath flew out of her mouth, and she struggled to take more in as she composed herself without moving. The force pushed her back onto her side, now crushing her arm. Her side ached, and she could feel an old wound split open, causing fresh blood to sliver down her stomach and create a puddle on the floor, staining her already filthy shirt. She felt her head roll and smash into the ground, white light flashing behind her eyes momentarily. She felt weak, her stomach growling in rage, and she just wanted it all to stop.

She wondered whether she should actually let them kill her. It would make all the pain stop, all her problems go away.

She was furious with herself for thinking that. She was a fighter, and always had been. And even in the few seconds she had met him, she trusted Booth, and knew he would find a way to get her out of this hell.

While her thoughts were regathering, she felt someone gently pick up her wrist. She wondered whether it was Booth, and whether the guards had gone.

And then the gentle touch turned to a bind of hate. The hand squeezed her wrist, and brought it back.

The pain was too much to bear. She felt her eyes roll into her head. Fire shot up her arm and seemed to spread around her body, all centered at the damaged bone. She desperately needed to scream, to cry out for help, to make the pain stop. Her arm flung limply to her side, and she had to force herself not to clutch it, not to even twitch from the pain the fire was causing.

She concentrated on breathing slowly, deeply, dragging her thoughts away from the core of her anguish. Her heat gradually became slower, and though she was still in agony, she was able to concentrate.

It seemed as though hours passed before she felt the next hand. But she knew this one was him. It was softer, a more caring touch, a touch that told her it was all ok. It was on her hip, and she knew he would have made it look as though he was wondering what to do.

It was telling her that he was there for her. Inwardly, she smiled. Despite the pain, the agony, the hell she was in, she suddenly felt a moment of bliss.

But she was decieved once more.

The closed fist hit her hard in her already swollen jaw. Her head snapped back from the blow, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt inside.

He had promised her that she would be safe.

He had promised her that he wouldn't hit her.

He had promised her that everything was going to be okay, and that he would get her out of her prison.

And now he had betrayed her.

She felt her heart break, and that was even more painful then all her injuries put together. She didn't often feel like she had a connection to someone, but she knew that there had been something there.

In her mind, she promised that she would get revenge, in whatever form it came in.

She shut her eyes tightly and winced. She waited for the next blow, maybe a stomp on her cracked leg or another kick or punch.

Her ears heard it first. They began to argue, talk. But her mind was dizzy, and she struggled to make out the conversation. They began to get louder, screaming orders. Even in the confined space it was inaudible.

She felt the ground vibrate once more as a large force hit the ground. She wanted to turn her head in interest, inwardly hoping they were fighting and that someone would be hurt.

But then she felt the force roll against her. It was one of the men – she couldn't tell who. They lay still, their back flat against hers. She heard movement as they moved over whoever it was, but she couldn't see what they were doing. She sneaked a chance, and opened a sliver of her eye.

The wall confronted her.

Damn, she still wouldn't be able to see anything anyway.

She closed her eyes again and waited impatiently for the men to leave. They fumbled around some more, and then she at last heard the door slam shut.

She waited a bit before moving.

She managed to push herself up on her good hand, and took in several deep breaths before turning.

Looking down, she saw that the body on the ground belonged to Seeley Booth.

Now what?