"Your honor, the results are inconclusive that Brenghause committed these acts." Booth was sitting in the witness' stand inside a massive courthouse. A nearly packed bench of jurors seemed to hang onto his every word. Because of that, he spoke carefully. "The DNA found on the women's clothing was a complete match."

"How about a murder weapon?"

"A knife found in Mr. Brenghause's apartment during a sweep matched to the injuries inflicted upon the victims. All of them."

The rest of the trial was a blur. Except the end. A juror stood and spoke for his peers. "We the people find Ryan Brenghause guilty upon all charges."

Brenghause bounded up from his seat. "I'm innocent!" He screamed. "I'll get you for this!" He pointed at Booth, the Judge, and his own lawyer. Booth just shook his head as the man was carted off in hand cuffs.

"NNOOOOOOOO!"

It took a minute for Booth to realize the scream wasn't a part of his dream. He came to gradually. The first image that appeared to him was the woman who had died besides him. She hadn't been moved. Her dead, unseeing eyes still stared up into him. The other woman accompanying them was missing. His Judge, and his lawyer. It made sense now.

Booth was just beginning to drift off again when a hand tightened around his throat. Sputtering for air, he saw Brenghause's face dangerously close to his own. The man was enjoying Booth's misery. Once again his attempts to get loose were futile. Without use of his arms or legs there was little he could do.

"Not so tough now," Brenghause smirked. He released his hold long enough to slam Booth's head back against the wall. "Without your gun." Slam. "Who's guilty now, Agent Booth?" Slam.

Booth knew better than to speak. He'd been through torture before when he'd been in the Army. Sadly the situation was nothing new for him.

Pain cut like a knife through his skull. He sucked in a breath and held it. Brenghause would see not a hint of despair.

His fingers clamped down tightly across his neck. Booth could hardly breathe. If he wanted to, Booth believed he could crush his throat completely. In a low, menacing voice Brenghause growled, "what do you want?"

What's he talking about? Booth was clueless.

Slam.

Obviously he expected some sort of answer out of him. "I want," he paused. "You to go to Hell."

Brenghause smiled, showing a gap where teeth had once been. "Aw, sweet. But wrong answer!" This time he smashed his head with so much force that Booth nearly fell back under. Stars appeared in his vision.

"Oh no," He declared. Booth was yanked up onto his feet. "The fun ain't over for you yet."

He could only limp along besides Brenghause as he led them to a cold metal table. Brenghause literally tossed him down onto the cold surface. "The real fun starts now," he laughed in delight as he restrained Booth's feet.

Booth was subjected to all out torture. He was bruised, broken, and burned. Through it all he kept his stoic composure. Brenghause seemed to grow agitated by his lack of emotion; lack of submission. When he grew bored of his game he left Booth tied up and alone.

The ceiling felt like it was closing in as Booth allowed himself to fall back into the darkness. To get away from the pain.

***

"So, I looked over all the cases Booth solved involving suspects leaving cryptic notes. I think I've come up with a lead."

Brennan looked up at the FBI agent standing before her. It'd been twenty four hours since she'd come across Booth's dumped Suburban. Four days since she had last heard from him. By now she feared the absolute worst. Booth was a force to be reckoned with. But he was injured. How bad had he been hurt before he'd been taken?

Statically she knew that after forty eight hours there was typically little hope for someone to be found alive. They were already on extended time. A new note had been found tucked in the crack of Booth's door during another look into his apartment by the FBI. HICKORY, DICKORY, RHYME - THE FED'S RUNNING OUT OF TIME.

"What?" Brennan was groggy. She'd been operating on little sleep. What she had gotten had been filled with terrifying nightmares of the possible demise of her partner. It was no wonder she'd dozed off at her desk. She'd never heard Baker come in.

"My main lead is Michael Brenghause. He was just released on parole. Booth put him in prison for the sadistic murders of four women. He raped his victims beforehand. He was practically begging the police to find him. He left notes all over the city until he was caught." Baker flipped through the file he held in his hands. "He took his all his victims to the same abandoned slaughterhouse in just the outskirts of D.C."

His words were barely penetrating her mind. A formal task force had been assigned to look into the disappearance of Booth. Baker was appointed Agent in Charge.

"Do you think that's where he's taken Booth to?" Brennan pondered. She hated the feeling of helplessness she was experiencing. Unfortunately she had nothing for her and her team to go on. The blood had proven to be Booth's, and his alone. The rest of the scene had been swept clean without the slightest hint of evidence.

"I think it's possible. Especially now."

"Why now?"

"Janet Shanker and Deborah Drenner, the Judge and his lawyer working his trial, have also turned up missing."

The chair Brennan was sitting in crashed into the wall from the impact of the sudden rise to her feet. "Why are you wasting time explaining this to me? Lets go." She strutted past him for the door.

"Dr. Brennan," he stopped her. She stared bravely straight into his eyes. In any other circumstance she might have found him attractive, with his short dark hair and crystal blue eyes set against copper skin. But this was not the time or place. Booth was her main focus.

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea, you coming with me."

"Why not?" She retorted.

He had to break gaze. "I just, I think you need to be prepared… for what we might find…"

He thinks Booth's dead, she realized. The implication knocked the wind from her lungs. Not that Baker knew. Outwardly she allowed no visible obvious emotion. "He's just my partner," she snapped, unable to come up with a better answer. Ahead of him she charged out of her office. I should have been with him. He has to be okay. I'll never forgive myself if he's not.