I promise this has been the only time i have been able to update. Ive been out hiking the past few days and didnt get in till about 11 on the nigths before hand. So i apologise i didnt really keep my promise (again) but at least its not a whole month break.

I also apologise for the change of setting later in this chapter. I know it completely contradicts what ive been saying in the past chapters but i needed some new drama. (Hint: goes into bush. I know ive said its been desert, and i apologise that im changing stuff, but otherwise itd be a typical ending or something, so it was the only thing i could think of).

Thankyou to all those who reviewed last chapter, and id really appreciate if you review this chapter too. i like when people either tell me how to fix something, or what went wrong, or encouragements. it helps me to gradually become a better writer. Ideas are also welcome :)

Booth regrettably let go of Brennan, holding her for a moment longer while he made sure she was steady. Once her feet were planted firmly, he ran back to the door, gripping the edge of the metal tightly. His right arm stung from the wound, and he quickly let go and used his left instead. He swung the door shut, using his foot to hurry the process. It shut with a dull clang, and quickly he began to search for the metal pole. It was still quite light, but his time in the cell has limited his vision. He swung his hands blindly until he found the pole. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the sun as he lifted it and tried to return it to its home behind the metal.

The pole began to burn in his hand, still hot from the sun. He quickly dropped it, not needing another injury to slow them down. Already he could hear them moving inside. He had to start moving, to get away before they exited the cell. He ran back to Brennan, swinging her bruised and bloody arm around his shoulder once more, half carrying her away from the cell.

One look at her face and he could tell she was in pain. Even though most of her weight was on him every movement, every bump was torture. But there wasn't much he could do, and he was sure that she accepted that.

But with another fleeting glance, he could see fresh blood trailing down her lips. He could also see the strain of her mouth as her teeth bit into flesh. New determination filled him, and he pushed on harder.

The land stretched out before him, the tent of safety seemingly miles away. Brennan was beginning to lose consciousness from the heat, and her head was beginning to flop forward. There was nowhere they could hide, and he knew they would be in terrible danger if they decided to unleash their guns.

He thought he heard the sound of metal clash against metal, but he didn't know if that was just his imagination, adrenaline creating sounds, his panic becoming a disability. But then he felt a sharp force whip past his arm, an inch from Brennan's head. He turned back, and saw one of the men standing in the doorway. He was amazed at the length they had come, what with their injuries and condition, and he couldn't even decipher which man was standing, and which man was crouching behind him, still trying to get to his feet.

He turned his head back to the front, the tent gradually coming closer. The bright green and white of the marquee seemed like a mirage, but he knew it was all too real, just like the enemies behind him. It was like a scene in a movie.

He felt another bullet just miss his left arm, and tried to shrink smaller while still running. Brennan was fully unconscious by now, unaware of the chase and the danger. He just wanted to put her down somewhere safe, hoping she wouldn't have to get hurt any more. Any more blood spilled could kill her.

Another bullet sped past them, but this time it cut into his arm on its way, only a few inches below his other wound. He growled in pain, and clutched his arm, still running.

And then the bullet slammed into his leg.

He grunted, and fell to the ground. His arm fell loose of Brennan, and she slammed into the dirt beside him. He clutched his leg, feeling the blood flow through his finger. He could see his vision beginning to haze and he blinked. He saw Brennan's eyes flutter as she woke from the fall. She glanced up at him, and she tried to get up, falling down again as the weight on her wrists became unbearable.

This gave him new strength, seeing her beaten body, seeing the similarities to that of a rag doll. He stood up, shaking as his leg seared. He winced, but limped to Brennan's side, lifting her up again. They both turned to look behind them at the same time, and saw the guards beginning to move towards them. They had time, but not much. They had to keep moving, to get to camp. They would be safe there.

They tried to run again, Brennan crying out in pain with each step, but she refused when Booth offered to help again. Booth tried not to grunt every time his weight fell on his right leg. He grabbed her hand, trying to gently pull her along. The tent didn't seem to be moving, and this discouraged him.

He had a sudden thought. What would happen when they got to the campsite? Sure, the guards couldn't do anything in front of anyone else, but as soon as night came, their guns would be upon them once more. There was no plane out for a few days. They still wouldn't be safe.

His eyes darted around, looking for an alternative. He saw a small, bush-like area not too far away to his left, and he wondered whether it would keep them cover, if not for a few hours. They could find food there – surely Brennan would know some leaves or berries that were edible? They could sneak off to camp at night, under the safety of the team members. And if the guards tried to follow, they could easily hide in the shrub until they left.

Booth made a decision. He turned towards the bush, receiving startled and worried looks from Brennan. Nevertheless, she followed him, her limp still slowing them down. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the guards' confusion, but still they followed. Booth ran faster, if that was possible, hearing Brennan whimper in pain as she tried to keep up.

The bush arrived faster then he expected. One moment it seemed an age away, the next they were about to enter its green doorway. He glanced around one more time before taking Brennan's hand and leading her through.

He put his hand to his mouth as he crouched behind a bush, indicating for her to do the same. She ducked beside him, her eyes holding many questions, but her mouth stayed shut. With a fleeting glance around, he could tell the bush was much larger and thicker then he had expected. This place was perfect. For the moment.

Minutes went by, until finally they heard the guards enter the shrub, their voices filling the thick air. Their boots left footprints in the soft dirt, and their eyes shredded every bush, every tree, searching for them. Booth held his breath as their eyes lingered over their very hiding spot, but then let it out again as they seemed to accept it was just greenery and no fugitives. They moved on.

They waited there, sure that the guards would return to leave the forest. Sure enough, the guards were back within minutes, complaining how they had lost them. Soon they left.

Booth waited a minute longer before finally stepping out from behind the bush. Brennan got up behind him. She waited until they were both on the path before asking questions.

"Why are we here, Booth? Why didn't we just go back to camp? Why the bush?"

Booth slowly turned to her, checking her over with his eyes. "We're not safe back at camp. Bruce and Brason will return there, and then kill you at night." He watched her eyes widen as she comprehended his plan.

His earlier question left his lips. "Do you know any edible…I don't know….berries or anything?"

"I'm an anthropologist, not a botanist," she scowled. His face fell.

"But….I do know a few basic plants that we might find here," she said, but she was still skeptical.

Oh well, anything that could get them by.

He checked her wounds. He brought his hand to her ankle, and felt her wince even though he barely touched the wound. It looked bad. Everything was infected, filled with dirt, dried blood caked everywhere. Her face was covered in scars, blood, dirt and tears, creating a type of face paint. He wondered if there was a stream in here that could help them clean up a bit.

He saw her scan him for injuries too, then saw her expression change as she caught sight of his leg wound. It was still bleeding, blood creating a thick stain on his pants. But that didn't seem to matter any more.

"Was that….them?" she asked, though she didn't have to. Who else would have created a wound this fresh?

"Look, don't worry about me," he reassured her. "Let's get you fixed up first."

"I'm fine," she said, but her voice gave her pain away. It was weak, unconfident, cracked. It was obvious she was lying, but he knew she was trying to make him feel better.

"We need to find a river, first. Get you some water. You sit here. I'll go searching."

"But-"

"Stay," he commanded, and almost pushed her to the ground. She sat down, sighing, closing her eyes as she leaned against a bush. Booth hoped she would stay conscious.

He walked away from her before he could change his mind about leaving.