A/N: Hi everyone! Miss me? I know, I know, I haven't updated anything since... well, early February. I never intended to abandon this story, but then the wall of writer's block crashed down on me along with a lot of intense school-related stuff. But the delay was not permanent, as I have returned! I can't promise you an update next week, as finals are just around the corner, but I can promise that this story will now be finished in a timely manner.

What are you waiting for? Read onwards! (Oh, and I don't own anything. Except maybe Culver.)

Chapter 19

October 25th, 2018

"Booth! Booth!" he slowed and looked over his shoulder. Bones was struggling to catch up with him, and he pulled to a halt and stepped back to meet her.

"You aren't coming with me," he said firmly, offering no room for argument.

Her eyes were sparkling, moisture building in the corners. Her hair had fallen loose from the ponytail, hanging in loose strands down the side of her face. "I know that," she agreed without argument. "I just… Booth… be careful. Please."

"Hey," he soothed, brushing her hair back and tucking it gently behind her ear. His hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking along her cheekbone. "I'm coming back, Bones. I'm going to go get Sweets, figure out what's going on… and then I'll be right back here. We're going to figure out where Shaw is before we do anything drastic. Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay." But there was a fear, pallid across her features and swimming in her eyes. He swallowed sharply, and let his hand drop reluctantly away.

"I have to go, Bones."

"I know," she murmured. There was a hesitation, and then she reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulder, giving him an awkward embrace around her pregnant stomach. He pressed his lips to hers, and then stepped back and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips.

"I love you, Bones. I'll be back soon."

"Love you, too," she said quietly.

Then Booth turned away and went to his SUV. He watched her out the window as he pulled away, and tried to stave off the fear that he now shared with her.

I'm coming back, Bones. I promise.

He called Hacker on the drive over, but kept it short to keep his anger from bursting.

Sweets was pacing when Booth arrived, and there was a second FBI vehicle parked out front. Culver had arrived, along with three other agents, and they were still sweeping the apartment, keeping an eye on Sweets to ensure he didn't disturb the scene in his panic.

"Hey, kid," Booth said, putting himself in the younger man's path. Sweets pulled to a stop and met Booth's eyes with his dark, wide gaze.

"They can't find anything," he said immediately. "They… there's nothing here, Booth. No proof of… anything. But she isn't responding to my messages, my calls go straight to voicemail… and she isn't here! She isn't anywhere."

"Right now, you need to calm down," Booth told him firmly. "Because freaking out… isn't going to help her, or anyone else. We're going to go back to the lab, and go through what we know. Let the lab techs sweep the place, let the other agents gather what they can and fill us in."

"But…"

"We're going to find her, Sweets. And believe me… I get it."

God if he didn't get it by now. How many times, he wondered, had he been in the shrink's shoes, facing this exact situation? How many times had he been forced to picture the world with Brennan missing from it, because she was gone without a trace, god knows where, and he had barely anything to go off of?

Twice was more than enough, but there were other instances, less long-term, but just as painful. Shot in the arm. Stabbed in the arm. A hit put out on her by gangsters. These were things he was never going to forget.

Sweets seemed to understand some of what he was trying to convey, because he nodded and then reluctantly followed Booth out of the apartment, glancing several times over his shoulder before they were out and on their way down to Booth's SUV.

"When was the last time you spoke to her?" Booth demanded, once he had slammed his door shut behind him and pulled them out into traffic.

"Two nights ago," Sweets answered shakily. "Well… no, she called me briefly yesterday. But all she did was confirm that she was back from work. That's what she's supposed to do… call in to tell me that she's home, and that there's nothing new to report. Because there never is," he added bitterly.

"We're going to find her," Booth assured easily. "First, though, we have to figure out how her cover was blown."

"You… you think that's what happened, then?"

"Yes, I do. There's really no other explanation."

Sweets' face went pale, and he slumped in his seat. He was uncharacteristically quiet for a long time, until they were nearly at the Jeffersonian.

"She's dead," he said at last, his voice flat and emotionless.

"We don't know that," Booth said, his voice tight. But he felt it, too. And logic was backing up the gut instinct. Shaw was missing, without a trace. They had taken her, possibly before she even had the chance to get inside. Chloroform, a needle, maybe even a sharp blow to the neck. Something that wouldn't leave behind blood evidence. Something that wouldn't give her a chance to fight back. They had gotten her unconscious, and then taken her with them.

After that… well, after that they would handle the problem cleanly, and dispose of the evidence with the same thoroughness they had already displayed in their previous clean-up missions. She was dead, and they weren't going to be finding her body.

He glanced at Sweets as he pulled into his parking space in the Jeffersonian garage. He was quiet, contemplative and haunted-looking. He got out mechanically when Booth cut the engine.

There was one other option, but he chose not to voice it. Sweets didn't need to hear his theories. That wasn't going to help anybody.

Inside, Angela hugged Sweets while Cam took one look at his face and shot an alarmed and questioning look in Booth's direction. He looked away, and immediately located Bones coming out of her office.

"Cam, I want you to double security on this place," he said, before she was in ear-shot. He moved so his back was to the others. "Don't let her go off alone," he said in a low murmur. "Or anybody else that's worked this case, for that matter. And if she's ready to leave, you make sure she calls me. Do not let her call a cab or anything like that."

His friend nodded, her eyes flashing as she took in the seriousness she found in his expression. "I've got it, Seeley."

She disappeared to her office, and Booth turned to greet Bones, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Her hair smelled sweet, like vanilla and lavender.

"What do you think?" she asked him, pulling out of his embrace and tilting her head as she took in the ghost that was Sweets.

Booth shook his head. "We'll talk later," he promised. Then he turned to address the group as a whole. "Alright, everybody. Top priority right now is to find out where Agent Shaw has been taken. We don't have a timeline, and apparently no material evidence. So… I need everyone to work a little out of their element, here. We're going to be looking at other evidence to try and figure out the most likely place they would go."

Hodgins opened his mouth and then shut it again, cutting his eyes nervously towards Sweets. It was obvious that no one was going to be comfortable producing theories with the distraught psychologist in their presence. He remembered how everyone had shrank away from making frank, logical deductions about Brennan's previous disappearances when he was in the vicinity.

"Wendell, why don't you take Sweets up to the lounge. He looks like he could use some coffee," Booth suggested.

Sweets looked up, keen to protest, but then gave in without much of a fight as he took in everyone's expressions.

Once he was gone, Hodgins asked in a low murmur, "Are we looking for a dump spot?" It was the question no one else had wanted to voice, but the one that they had all been thinking. Angela cringed away from the idea, but the fear in her eyes told Booth that she was having the same thought.

"Possibly," he admitted.

"Or not," Cam said, joining the group. They spaced out to make room for her, and she stood there with her arms crossed and met Booth's eyes darkly. She had arrived at the same conclusion as he had. "If they know that Shaw is FBI, and that she has been spying on their operation…"

"They're going to want to know how much she's got on them," Hodgins deduced, his eyes widening even further.

"Oh, God," Angela whispered.

Brennan was serious. "They will torture her to find out what she knows. These are not the sort of people who will hesitate. And eventually… she will tell them."

Booth felt a chill run down his back, and he came to the unwelcome realization that she was speaking from experience. There was too much certainty in her tone for something that she would normally consider to be merely a hypothesis. This was not guesswork on her part. Bones, what happened to you?

Now was not the time to ask. He knew she was right. She was not alone in her experience.

"We need to find out when she was taken," Booth said.

If they were confident they would not be found, there was a chance she could be alive for anything up to a week before they ultimately killed her. How long would she last, though, before she gave up and told them what they wanted to hear?

He didn't want to think about it.

"For now, we assume she's alive," he said definitively.

"Alright," Cam agreed, "So what do we know, timeline-wise? When's the last time Sweets spoke to her?"

"Yesterday she checked in after she got back from work, like normal. And today she didn't, so he got worried. When she didn't respond to any of his messages and he couldn't get her on the phone he went over to check on her himself, and found that she wasn't there."

"Okay, so we have a 24-hour time lapse in which she could have gone missing."

"Longer," Booth corrected. "She should have arrived home from work at around four a.m. Sweets didn't receive the update, but he wasn't concerned until later that morning, when she hadn't yet responded to his texts. He thought she was asleep up until he got too worried and went to check on her about…" he glanced at his watch, "An hour ago."

"Anytime between yesterday at four and today at eleven," Brennan said.

Booth nodded. "Exactly."

"Does her building have security cameras?" Angela asked.

"The footage is being sent over to you as we speak," he assured, nodding in her direction.

They were in charge of this investigation; it had been Booth's insistence when he had called Hacker. His team had more knowledge on this matter than any other unit at the FBI. They were involved in the investigation which had led to Shaw's kidnapping. They could handle this, and handle it properly.

Hacker really hadn't been given another option, honestly. Booth hadn't been planning on taking no for an answer.

"You think they would have taken her to one of their warehouses?" Hodgins suggested.

"It's a possibility that I've already mentioned to Hacker," Booth said with a nod. "He's organizing some task forces, now. We know about three warehouses that are a part of the operation, but the problem is that there have to be more. There's no telling how many are a part of their operation."

"But it's likely that they would take her there, correct?"

Booth nodded. "More likely than not, yeah. It's just a matter of finding the right warehouse."

Angela was pulling up a map on the large screen monitor. Booth pointed out the buildings that they were already sure of, and she highlighted them.

"They're all spaced out," Hodgins said slowly.

"Which makes sense," Booth said. "They can't risk having their entire operation blown if one warehouse came under suspicion."

"Right," Angela agreed. "So we can rule out the rest of this area…" Circles appeared around each warehouse, and Angela spaced them out so that they fell tangent with the next nearest warehouse. A section of the map lit up red.

Brennan had moved over to the table which contained the only evidence remaining in the case. The clothing from the two men who had not escaped from the hostage situation was separated into baggies and divided into two boxes, and now she carefully snapped on gloves and began to remove the bags from the first box. The one filled with the clothing of the man who had pinned her against the wall and pressed the barrel of his gun to the back of her skull.

"What are you doing, Bones?" he asked, stepping away from the others as they continued to methodically mark off sections of the map.

"He was their enforcer," Brennan said, eyebrows furrowed together as she leaned over the table and selected a pair of tweezers to pull at a loose thread. Eyeing it with interest, she placed it in one of her round evidence containers.

"And?" Booth asked.

"And…" she studied the soles of the boots. "He would have been the one most likely to frequent the warehouse that Shaw would be taken to. The other warehouses are allotted to their shipping and storage. This one is unique in that it has likely been used for past clean-up jobs as well."

"Meaning he would have been there often, as the enforcer," Booth filled in, watching her work with a fresh interest.

"It is not likely that he had visited that location recently enough for there to be anything on his clothing that would give away the information, but it is necessary to run the tests, regardless." She pulled a small piece of what looked like gravel from the bottom of the boot and placed it in another evidence container.

Wendell and Sweets rejoined the group, and Wendell came over to his mentor's side while Sweets hovered by the railing, looking pale and out of place.

"Pull anything you can from the material or the sole of the second boot," Brennan instructed him, pointing to it but barely looking up from her own task. Wendell fell into place beside her, and Booth watched silently, keeping an eye and an ear on both sides of the developing investigation. Angela and Hodgins appeared to have reached a block, both staring at the screen with nearly matching stares of frustration. Where they had hit a dead end, however, Brennan seemed to have found a breakthrough.

"What's that?" Booth asked, as she extracted a thin, mud-coated object from the treads. She shook her head, focused on her task as she took it to the side and placed it on a tray. Angela and Hodgins drifted over, and Brennan relinquished the task to them.

"Looks like some sort of paper," Angela commented, as Hodgins carefully probed it with tweezers, picking up an end and frowning as he studied the texture.

"It's organic," he said curiously. Brennan side-stepped out of his way as he reached for the cleaning tools and gently sprayed the mud off with a mist of water. "Some sort of shredded leaf…"

"Can it give us a location?" Booth demanded, stepping forward to look at the small piece of evidence.

"I don't know, man," Hodgins said with a slow shake of his head. "It looks like typical maple… you can find those anywhere."

"But it does tell us that he was near someplace with trees recently, right? So the warehouse must be… next to a park or a street that has trees."

"Possibly. But the Jeffersonian has these trees, too. He could have picked this up right outside."

Booth rubbed his hand roughly through his hair, setting his jaw and pacing away. They weren't getting anywhere. Hodgins bent lower over the evidence, going to work on carefully cleaning the rest of it of the mud. Angela touched Booth's arm and he jumped slightly. She gave him a pitying look.

"You look like you could use some sleep, G-man," she commented softly.

"I'm fine."

She cast him a doubtful look. "You're stressed out. And with every right. But we're doing everything that we can. Now, why don't you help me work on possibilities going off the theory that this leaf was present at the warehouse they've taken Shaw to?"

He sighed. It couldn't hurt.

For the next half hour, Hodgins, Brennan, and Wendell focused on the evidence while Angela, Booth, Cam, and Sweets worked out possibilities on the map and ran through the timeline again. And then the security footage finally came through.

The group clumped together, discouraged but determined, and watched as Angela pulled up the footage on the main screen. At first there was nothing, and Angela disclosed that the footage was supposed to pick up about twenty minutes into the hour. They sped through and stopped a minute before. There was silence as they stared at the empty hallway. A neighbor came out of the elevator with a case of beer and let himself into his apartment.

When the elevator opened again, Shaw stepped out.

Sweets made a sound from the back of his throat, and Booth swallowed and avoided looking towards him. They watched, together, as Shaw approached her door, carrying her purse and wearing a long coat. The stairwell door, directly across from her end-of-the-hall apartment, opened just as she was flipping through her keychain. A moment later, two figures in black had burst out. One pulled a black bag over her head, and as she writhed backwards and attempted to throw him off, barely missing with her sharp kick towards his groin, the other slammed a needle into her neck. She slumped, and the first seized her under the arms while the other took her legs. The door to the stairwell closed behind them.

Sweets was shaking.

In Booth's head, he was seeing Brennan with that bag thrown over her head, with that needle jabbed into her neck. He trembled, too.

"Angela, pull anything you can from this. Anything at all that might identify those men."

"They were here," Brennan said sharply. All attention turned her way. Her eyes were icy and clear. "Those two men were a part of the team which took us hostage, here in the lab."

"How can you tell?" Hodgins asked.

"Every human being is distinctive," Brennan said simply. "You look at faces to distinguish one from the other… but I also see stature and gait and bone structure."

"And you're sure these two men were part of the group that held us hostage, Bones?"

"Positive."

Booth nodded. "That's good enough for me."

"So we know for sure, then. That the drug traffickers took her," Hodgins said, glancing between Booth and Brennan.

"That still doesn't help us," Sweets muttered darkly. Angela and Cam shot him a worried look. "What?" He snapped. "We already knew that they were behind this. It doesn't matter which… specific members of their gang were behind the kidnapping. Genny is still gone, and we still have no clue where they've taken her!"

"Maybe you should—" Booth started to suggest to Cam in an undertone, but Sweets cut him off.

"No! I'm not going to go… calm down over a cup of coffee, Booth! I want answers. I want to know… I want to know what happened to my girlfriend, okay?" His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears and his dark curls hung over his forehead. He stared straight back at Booth, slowly shaking his head as though he sought the answers to his questions within the agent's eyes. There was nothing to find there, though. Nothing that could help them.

Angela stepped over to offer the psychologist a hug, but he stepped back, holding up his hands to ward her off. She stopped short, eyes widening.

"I need to… go for a walk. Just keep—keep working, okay?"

He spun on his heel and practically ran through the sliding doors of the lab, the sound of his light footsteps vanishing long before they had slid closed once more.

There was silence for a long moment, and then Booth turned to the team. "You heard him. We keep working, and we find our missing team member. Got it?" Nods all around, and they split up and began to murmur to one another, circulating helpless theories but trying—trying as hard as they could. Booth wished that there was something for him to do, something that didn't involve waiting for someone else to find the answers. But he had to admit that he was out of his element, here. They evidence that they could use to find the location was not something that could be dragged out of—

He paused in his pacing, and turned to look back at where the squints were gathered around the evidence table, taking turns with the microscope but not really getting anywhere.

"Bones," he said, and she turned to look at him over her shoulder. He motioned for her to join him and, frowning, she extricated herself from the others and stepped away to join him at the edge of the platform.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "I just… have a theory that I want to test out. And I just wanted to tell you, before I ran off to test it out."

Her frown deepened. "Okay. Explain."

~BxBxBxBxBxB~

He still wasn't entirely sure if this was crazy or not. If he was wasting precious time, or coming up with new leads. But he did know that he had to try. He would never forgive himself if he didn't make the attempt, and he wasn't going that far out of the way. If anything broke back at the lab, he could be there, within a twenty minute time frame. And besides, anything that happened at the lab wasn't going to be helped along by him.

In the past, when Brennan had gone missing, it had ultimately been her team—her people—who had done the rescuing. He had done the running and the threatening and the interrogating, but they had solved the code that Hodgins had texted to him from her phone. They had been the ones to figure out where she was, with their brains and their fancy equipment. He had done the running and the digging, but he had always known that it had been the squints who had saved her. This was no different. Their logic, their science, would be what found the location Shaw was being held in.

He couldn't help the urge to try, though.

"Agent Booth," the gate master said as he pulled up. "That was fast."

"It's urgent," he assured.

"Well they've got him all ready for you," the man said with a slight shake of his head. "Called me special to make sure I told you. You've got some friends in high places, agent."

"Yes. I do," he said pointedly, nodding towards the gate. The younger man raised it for him, and he drove through to find himself in the familiar lot. He never took pleasure in visiting this place, but the job didn't provide much of a choice. If he had his way, he would never see the scum after he watched them walk out of that courtroom for the last time, a sentence hanging over their heads, but fate often had other plans.

The bulky, heavy-set man opposite him at the interrogation table looked up, but didn't say a word. There was no glimmer in his eyes, no smirk on his face. A cold settled over the room, and Booth took that as a cue.

"You're a dangerous man, Ortiz." No response. "You do a lot of… clean-up work, don't you? You like following orders… don't really know much of anything else. What was your home life like, I wonder?"

A flicker, but nothing more.

Booth grinned cockily, tilting his chair back and putting his feet up. "Come on, now. I drove all the way here for a nice chat, Juan."

The man leaned forward, and Booth dropped his feet, crossing his arms instead.

"You got an offer, or you just wasting the oxygen?" he hissed.

"Ah, the silent giant has a voice. And a heart, if I remember."

Ortiz laughed. One low, humorless exhalation. "You're funny, G-man, you know that? As I recall, it's you who owes me the favor for not blowing the brains out of that pretty little scientist of yours."

Booth leaned forward, now, as well, his voice low and deadly. "You're in federal prison, Juan. You are not getting out for a long, long time. And you aren't seeing your boys, either. For all they know… you're snitching to us."

Ortiz laughed, this time for real. "You amuse me, you know that? You think that scares me?"

"Fine, then. I'll make you an offer. How about an upgrade? Lower security, some recreational time…"

"Do I look like a fool to you, man? I ain't taking anything you offer me."

"What if I don't give you a choice, then?"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Juan spat.

"It means you might just get a free trip down the river. See, I've decided that I like you. And I'm recommending better accommodations for you, as my new pal."

"No thanks," the bigger man snapped, moving to get up. The guard at the door shifted his stance.

"I think you're going to want to listen," Booth said simply. Ortiz glowered.

"You move me, I die, Agent Booth."

"I know. Sounds like suitable punishment for holding a federal lab hostage, stealing federal evidence, and nearly killing a federal liaison, doesn't it?"

Ortiz's hands clenched into fists.

"Here's how it works," Booth continued calmly. "You tell me one simple piece of information… we leave you right where you are. No hard feelings."

"And what's that piece of info you want so badly?"

Booth leaned back in across the table. "I want you to tell me where you go to clean-up, Ortiz. Where do you go, when the boss tells you to solve the problem? Huh? Where is it?"

Ortiz's face lit up, then, and he laughed, throwing his head back as the sound boomed out and echoed around the small room.

"Who do my boys have, Agent? What wonderful little piece of your property did they get their claws on? I bet it was your scientist, wasn't it? No, no, they'd never have let you in here with me… so it was the Asian, then. The hot one? Oh, or that African chica. Am I getting warmer?"

"It wasn't one of my people," Booth lied, his voice low. "But you will tell me where I can find what I'm looking for."

"No, I won't. You see, Agent Booth, my boys don't need to see a transfer to know they are ratted out. They are not stupid. They see you, coming through those doors with all of your guns, though… and they know who sent you." He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. "I'll take that transfer, actually. I could use a… change of scenery."

Booth stood up.

"While we're granting favors," Ortiz called, as Booth stepped around the table towards the door, "Why don't you send over that hot piece of ass scientist, huh? Last time I saw her, we were in a bit of a rush, you see. Now, I've got all the time in the world…"

Booth left the room, and found his hands shaking.

He snapped out his cell phone, and hit his first speed dial.

"Booth?" she demanded into his ear.

His eyes slid closed and he let out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding. "Bones."

"What is it? Did you find anything?"

"No, no… he wouldn't give up anything to me. I just… needed to hear your voice."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Is everything okay?" she asked quietly.

"Fine. Things just… didn't go as well as I was hoping."

"What did he say?" she demanded.

"He proved he's smarter than I was giving him credit for. He knew that giving over the location would be worse for him than a transfer."

"Oh. Is that why you're upset?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning against the wall.

"Not exactly. Is Sweets there?"

A pause. "Yeah… here."

"Booth?"

"Sweets, I need you to tell me how to get into this guy's head. Right now."

"You've threatened him with a transfer?"

"Yes, and it failed. I need something better; something he can't ignore."

"Put that thing on speaker," Booth heard a male voice say, in the background. A moment later, he recognized it as Culver, as the agent said, "Tell him we'll get Zander out, Booth."

"Zander?" Hodgins questioned.

"Ortiz's younger brother. His full name is Zachary Ortiz." Culver explained. "I looked into Ortiz's family connections after we got his name. Zander was busted years ago, while trying to get initiated into the gang. He's practically an honorary member, and he's been causing… trouble behind bars."

"So what are you going to do?" Hodgins asked. "Try to get a deal for both of them; something to sweeten the pot and crack Ortiz?"

"No, I've got a better idea," Booth said slowly, mulling a concept over thoughtfully. "I'll call you back. And Bones?"

There was a slight shuffling. "You're off speaker," she informed him.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Be careful."

"I will."

He didn't go back to Ortiz. Instead, he went to the warden and requested to have a call made to the minimum security facility. He was going to be paying them a visit shortly.

~BxBxBxBxBxB~

Zander Ortiz was nothing like his older brother. Where Juan was large and intimidating, Zander was tall, slim, and weasel-like in appearance. His biceps were defined from prison workouts, but he was still lanky, and if it weren't for his tattoos, the scars, and the sharp look in his eyes, Booth would imagine prison life was torture for him. But he got the feeling that Zander could hold his own.

Still, he was not his brother, by far.

"What do you want, Agent?" Zander demanded the moment he entered the room. "You're making me miss my recreation time, y'know that?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Ortiz, I'm well aware." He seated himself heavily in the chair across from the prisoner. "I was just visiting your brother."

A shadow fell across Zander's face. "Oh? How's he doing?" he asked, a mocking edge to his voice. Booth read the curiosity that flashed through his eyes, though.

"He's doing just fine, considering. I mean, he is still alive, at this point, which I'm sure you're glad to hear."

Zander snorted derisively. "Of course he's alive. The question is, how are the other prisoners looking, after spending some… time with him?"

"It might surprise you to know he's been laying pretty low, actually. Not quite so high on the totem pole after disobeying direct orders the way he did, and getting caught, no less."

"Juan is big in the organization," Zander sneered. "He's got respect. You don't know what you're talking about."

"So you didn't hear, then. Interesting."

Zander stared at him, dark eyes beady and cold. "What?" he asked at last, when it became clear that Booth wasn't going to elaborate. "What are you trying to say, huh?"

"Juan was on that task-force that held up a federal lab. Bet you heard about that, right?" He saw the flicker of recognition on the other man's face and continued, "The boss told him to execute the head scientist, but when they left him alone… he let her live."

Zander said nothing, confirming Booth's suspicion. He had heard this story before.

"And then, last one out that he is, he gets arrested. In fact, he gets another one of the boys shot by taking so long."

Zander's eyes were like ice.

"From what I've seen… those boys of his aren't too happy with him. In fact, I'd say it looks sort of like he was working for the opposite side, don't you think? Doesn't kill the lead scientist who was working against his team, gets himself captured…"

"Shut the fuck up," Zander hissed.

Booth smiled. Success.

"Don't like the truth, there, huh, Zander?"

Zander's fists were clenched in front of him. "What do you want?" he snapped at last, staring at the table as though it had personally offended him.

"Answers. I just have… a simple question for you. You answer it truthfully, and Juan doesn't end up executed by some inside man. And you know that they can pull that off. I know you do."

"I won't rat on them," he responded at once.

"Not to save your brother? That's a pity. I can't imagine what your mother will say…" Booth started to stand up.

"What's your question?" Zander demanded.

Booth sat back down, folding his hands together on the table in front of him. "All I want to know is where your brother would go for a clean-up job. You tell me that, and we keep him safe."

"And what about me, huh? They'll come after me."

"They won't know you were behind it. How could they? You weren't even properly initiated. But you know, don't you? You know, and you can save your brother." Booth took out his phone and flipped through his apps. And then he slid it across the table, a map of Virginia on display. "Just direct me to where I want to go, Zander."

"I want some sort of paper. A contract. I want proof you'll get my brother into a protection program."

Booth motioned towards the guard, and he stepped outside. "It's already in progress," he assured the younger Ortiz brother. When the papers had been delivered and Zander had read through them, frowning and not fully following the details but believing them—and the signatures that they bore—to be authentic, he nodded, signed his name, and pushed them back across the table. And then he accepted the phone and typed in the location.

"If they've moved it, I can't help you. But the risk I take in giving even this to you…"

"Is worthy of our deal," Booth agreed with a nod.

Then he stood up and left.

"Luna RV Park," he said into his cell, as he pulled out of the gates. "There's an abandoned building by the lake. And no doubt a bunch of skeletons in the water."

"I'll organize a team," Culver responded. "You'll be meeting us?"

"I'm heading straight to the Park," Booth said. "Should be about the same time, with the siren."

He called Bones, next, knowing that he couldn't avoid it. The phone barely had a chance to ring.

"You're going," she said, in lieu of a greeting. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, Bones, I'm going."

"Culver just left. He said you found out where she was."

"I did."

There was a long pause, and then he heard a soft sound, like a sniff.

"I'm going to find her, and bring her back," he assured softly. "Okay, Bones? And I'll tell you all about it, tonight, over some Thai food."

"Okay," she answered, but her voice was too quiet.

"I have to go," he said, "I have to, Bones. I can't not."

She sighed heavily. "I know, Booth. Please… be careful, though. And wait for backup."

"I promise," he reassured. He was on the highway, now, sirens on and lights flashing. "I'll see you in a little while. I love you."

"I love you," she echoed.

When he hung up, there was a heavy weight in his chest. He was going to see her again. Soon. There was nothing that would keep him from that. From her.

The drive to Luna Park was longer than he would have liked, and he kept running through the timeline in his head. The odds were not in Shaw's favor, and his past experience was painting grisly images in his mind. Knuckles clutched white on the wheel, he swerved through traffic and prayed.

He couldn't hear any other sirens, when he got close, and he shut his off before he turned down the long dirt path that led into the park. There weren't many RVs parked in the area, given the season, and he parked a fair distance away from the abandoned cabin. Through the bare trees he could see its shadowy outline, and that of a dark vehicle parked by its side. Gun drawn, he called in his location and discovered that the rest of the squad was only minutes behind him.

His promise to Bones still fresh in his mind, he made a cautious approach, intending to get the lay of the land and then back off and wait for the rest of his team. He would be remiss if he didn't take advantage of his early arrival, though, and he couldn't risk the outcome by holding back when he had a stealthy approach lined up.

Treading lightly over the fallen leaves, he came up through the trees alongside the cabin. The woods were silent, besides the gentle lapping of the lake water along the shoreline and the distant hum of a boat engine.

The windows of the cabin were dark and dusty, but he peered in carefully before brushing off a section to stare through. The room he was peering into was dark and crumbling, with furniture lying abandoned around the edges. A mattress lay without support in the far corner, and there were concerning stains creating a patchwork pattern on the floor.

Booth moved to the next window.

This time he found a kitchen, and this time it looked like it had seen human contact recently. There was an overflowing trash can by the door, and a coat hanging by the door. Swallowing and leveling his breathing patterns, he reassured his footing and then crept further until he rounded the corner.

A sound made him freeze in place, and he held his breath as he stayed frozen where he was, listening for it to repeat. Then it came again, a low, pained cry. Shaw.

The next window he found gave him his answers. The room he was looking into was mirrored to that of the first room he had found. There was a chair in the corner instead of a mattress, and Agent Shaw was bound to it, blindfolded and filthy but very much alive. He stepped back and pressed himself against the wall as he heard heavy footfalls from inside. The window was battered and cracked, and the wind whistled slightly as it rushed through. The opening allowed him to hear as the new arrival spoke.

"Filthy little whore," he hissed. There was the sharp crack of sound as a slap was delivered, and he heard Shaw's breathing sharpen. "Should I get a screwdriver, huh? Just how badly do you want to keep your secrets to yourself, bitch?"

The frustration in his voice was palpable. Shaw hadn't broken yet, and this one, young by the sound of his voice, was not handling whatever responsibility had been placed on his shoulders very well.

"Cool it, Leo," an older, gruffer voice said, as another set of footsteps came into the room. "It's only been a few days. After a while, she'll be wanting some food. Some water. Won't you, sweetheart?"

Shaw said nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Booth caught movement and turned to see several vehicles pulling up beside his own through the trees. Reinforcements had arrived. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he couldn't risk answering it. Not in his current position.

Confident that Shaw was not in immediate, life-threatening danger, he ducked his head and set off at a swift, silent pace back up the incline towards his SUV. Culver nodded to him as he arrived, and Charlie came up by his side.

"What's the situation?" the former asked.

"She's alive," he started, and saw visible relief in the faces of the agents around him. He spotted a few of the younger agents; the ones who would be more likely to know and be friends with Shaw. "They've got her tied to a chair in the room on the west side. From what I can see, there are two guards on her, trying to break her. But she hasn't caved yet."

"Thatta girl," came a low murmur, and Booth recognized Sawyer, an older agent. He has served as a mentor figure to many of the new agents.

"What's the plan?" Charlie asked, glancing between Culver and Booth as though not quite sure who was on point. Booth wasn't quite sure, himself, but he looked to Culver and the older man took the initiative.

"We're going for the element of surprise, here. The minute they know we've surrounded them, we'll have a hostage situation on our hands. We go in quick, and clean. Odds are these goons aren't going down without a fight, so you see those guns trained on you and you take them down. Our number one objective here is to rescue or agent. Gaining prisoners of our own comes second to that. Everyone clear?" There were nods all around. "Good. Booth, you take Team B. I've got Team A. My group is heading around from the east, yours will come around from the west. The door will be on the opposite end. Post somebody on that window you were looking through. We go in hard, through the main door, and head for the room on the west side. When I give the signal." He turned to Booth. "We wait for them to leave her alone in the room."

Booth nodded. "Ready to go."

Waving a hand signal over his head, half of the group split off at Culver's lead and began the silent descent down towards the run-down cabin. Booth motioned for his team to follow him closely, and then began to take the same route he had just followed back down.

He put two men, Gustafson and Rodney, outside the window, and then brought the rest around with him to the front of the building. Culver was positioned at the door, and Booth spaced the rest of his men out at the windows and came up on the opposite side of the door with his remaining three. Culver met his gaze with an icy clarity, in the calm before the storm. Then they both watched for the sign from Culver's watchman.

When it finally came, Culver raised his hand for the others, and in a split second the door was down and the place was swarming. Gun drawn and on the alert, Booth swept in with the others and aimed his gun on the first guard, the young one with the anger problem. He was down on the ground before Booth could fire, riddled with bullets. The gun he had drawn clattered down at his side.

The older one made a move for the room where Shaw was being held, and fired off several rounds before a sharp shot from the side hit him in the leg. He was down and pinned, but Booth was already through the doors to the side room. Rodney was in the window, drawing his gun back out of the hole in the glass. He had taken down the older gunman, and Booth shot him a signal to stay put just in case before turning his attention to Shaw.

Several others had come in behind him, and he joined them as a female agent, a close friend of Shaw's, he suddenly remembered, pulled the blindfold away from her face. Booth reached for his knife and winced. Belatedly, he heard a loud cracking sound. Rodney was gone from the window, and Gustafson stood in his place, back to the window, gun drawn.

There was a stinging sensation coursing through Booth's arm, and he glanced to the side and was surprised to find red. Bright, gleaming red pulsing through the fabric of his white shirt.

"Boss!" someone shouted.

There was a fresh blaze of gunfire, in the distance. Booth leaned against the nearest wall, clutching his arm. He hated being shot, he thought with a distant curiosity. He really, really hated it.

The room spun away into blackness.

Just a quick something that I wanted to mention at the end of this chapter: I know I'm not exactly deserving of reviews at this point, but pretty please? Let me know you're still out there, and that I haven't lost a majority of my audience thanks to my slow updating. It would be majorly appreciated.