I cant apologize enough for not updating, and i really have no excuse. of course i've been busy with assignments and work and what-not but really, i should have updated, and so i hope you guys can forgive me for that.

Thanks to those who reviewed last chapter as well.

Brennan gasped inwardly as she heard Booth's proposition.

He's an idiot. That was the first thing that came to mind.

Why the hell was he risking his life to "save" her? Didn't he know that they'd just kill him, and then kill her anyway?

Clearly he hadn't thought his "plan" through.

But it still meant something to her.

"Booth, don't do it," she desperately tried to cry, but her weak plea was unheard by his ears. His fists were clenching by his sides, and she could see that they were white with pressure, his veins trying to break free of their confines.

She was answered by Bruce, who snapped at her to stay quiet. She withdrew from her argument, knowing there was nothing she could do but watch and listen as they decided her fate, and his.

She hated being the one sitting, not making the decisions. It was unnatural for her, and she didn't welcome change easily.

Unconciously, she sifted dirt through her fingers, crumbling it down to a fine sand as she waited. Booth was eyeing the two guards, the intense silence increasing. They were trying to intimidate Booth, but he wasn't falling under them.

"So, boy, what are your terms?" Bruce grunted.

Booth answered almost immediately. "She leaves now. You take her back to base where she's under care and can get something to eat. Once I know she's safe, I'll surrender, and you can kill me."

"No!" Brennan cried out. Brason walked forward, and in two steps he was in front of her and had slapped her across the cheek. Her head flung to the side as the pain pinched her face. A red mark appeared immediately. Her hands automatically came to her cheek to smother the pain, and she winced. Brason walked back to his original spot, looking pleased with himself.

Brennan felt something inside her that she had never felt before.

Loathing. Utter loathing for these horrific monsters.

Looking at Booth's face, she could tell that he felt the same way. His face was scrunched with something like pain – watching her still being tortured. His eyes were bright yet dark, the fury that was burrowed boiling to the surface. He looked as though he was about to snap – which could get them both killed.

Brennan tried to think of a way that she could help her...what was he? Friend? Partner? Person who shared her peril?

A sudden thought entered her mind and her lips curled in a snigger as the idea began to fold out. But she would have to be careful.

She needed a shoe. But hers had been removed the first day she had been thrown in here. She was still pantless with her shirt in tatters.

"Booth," she whispered, at a level that she knew the guards wouldn't be able to hear her, but Booth would. She saw his eyes flicker in acknowledgement.

"I need your shoes."

She could tell he was having trouble not to react to this. His eyebrows rose and moved towards each other very slightly, the lines on his forehead becoming more predominant. The guards seemed not to have noticed the change in his expression. Booth seemed willing to comply to her strange idea, and she could tell he was confused.

But she could also tell that he trusted her.

Ever so slowly, almost agonizingly slowly, he pushed his weight onto one foot and tried to scrape his shoe on the ground, hoping it would slide off.

But the guards saw him moving, saw the eye contact break slightly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bruce growled.

Brennan watched as Booth struggled for an answer. And true, there wasn't many that made sense in this situation. "I... my...feet hurt," he said lamely. "Sometimes they hurt at home and I take off my shoes to relieve them."

Brennan had to fight the urge to slap her head. That was the best he could think of?

The guards burst into laughter once more. "Oh, poor baby," they teased in baby-like voices. "Do you need your mummy to make you some hot milk?" They bent over double, laughing again.

This gave Booth the time he needed to slip off his shoes and kick them back to Brennan. She caught them, and pushed them by her side, into the shadows. By the time the guards had composed themselves, they had forgotten all about the shoes.

Booth spoke up again. "So, the deal? Do you accept?"

From where she was sitting, she could see the sacrifice in his eyes. She wanted to scream at him, tell him he was an idiot, that he shoudn't waste his life when hers was nearly over anyway. But she knew she would be punished, and if she was hit any more she may become even more of an obstacle for Booth.

The guards' faces scrunched as they thought it through. She really didn't see why they should have to. It would just create an even bigger annoyance. Why didn't they just say no and kill her? It would save everyone the trouble of talking about it.

She wondered if now was the right time, before anyone did anything rash and make agreements which would have to be accepted or compromised. Gingerly, she picked up one of Booth's shoes, and tried to muster all her body power into her right arm. She knew this could easily fail as she was weak, but she had to do anything to help Booth.

She lifted her arm, pulled it behind her head and threw.

Bullseye!

It hit Brason square on the head, knocking him out momentarily and giving him a bloody nose at the same time. She picked up the other shoe, but she knew her power was draining away. She threw it, but it fell short of Bruce.

She saw his face. She knew they were in danger.

She impulsively ducked as the gunshot echoed around the cell. She heard a sharp grunt of pain, and felt the floor vibrate as Booth's body fell to the ground.

Oh God, what had she done?

She crawled forward. Bruce was concentrating on Booth, who was lying in pain, clutching his arm. It didn't seem to be a major wound, but it would be a problem.

By the time Bruce noticed her, her foot had already connected with his crotch. He bent down in pain, a high-pitched squeaking emiiting from his mouth. She crawled once again over to Booth, checking to see if he needed immediate help, but he was okay for the moment. He smiled at her, his eyes congratulating her more than words could. He stood up and pulled her up with him, steadying her as she swayed helplessly. She knew her injuries were going to slow them both down, especially her ankle.

Nonetheless, he wrapped her arm around his shoudler and began to walk forward strongly, while she limped by his side. They passed Bruce, and he connected his shoeless foot with the side of his head. This silenced him for awhile longer. Booth walked past him and kicked the door open, planning on making a heroic exit, with the scared woman by his side.

Then she heard them begin to stir once more, composing themselves and planning revenge.

She turned to face the open desert, already trying to run away.

Sorry about the shoe :) I really didnt want to have the whole cliche escape. Thanks to fia and her AMAZING ideas and support :D and any ideas from you guys would be great. Thanks for reading, and i PROMISE i will update soon :)