Authors Note: Thanks so much for the awesome reviews, everyone! I'm so thrilled with the response this fic is getting, really makes me love the fandom even more. Hope you enjoy this chapter! The song is "Make This Go On Forever" by Snow Patrol, which is one of the 'theme songs' I have for this story…I highly recommend checking it out. It's very fitting, plus it is all kinds of epic.

Enjoy! As always, reviews are love. Tell me as much as you want, I love hearing from you guys.

Chapter Two

Make This Go On Forever, Snow Patrol

All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight
Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right
This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long
Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong

The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love

Booth was still sitting in the floor of Brennan's apartment when Hodgins showed up, Angela behind him. He seemed to be going through on of the folders, extracted from the pile around him on the floor, but his hands were visibly shaking, the paper shaking along with them.

He barely looked up when they came in, though distantly he registered a strangled sound coming from Angela.

"Oh, God…Jack, that's…that's blood."

Hodgins' voice was quiet and reassuring, "It's okay, Ange, it's not much. I'll get a sample, it might not even be hers… you know Dr. B put up a hell of a fight."

Booth was barely listening, but somehow Hodgins' words hit him deep in the gut, the reality of the situation sinking in all over again.

Raising his voice to address Booth, sympathy threaded through his tone. "Booth, Cam called Rebecca, they're taking Parker to her parents for a few days."

"Thanks," Booth replied, his voice hoarse, as though it had been hours since he'd spoken rather than about twenty minutes. Protecting Parker had been the one moment of logic he'd had since getting to Brennan's apartment.

This man, whoever he was, was coming after Booth. And he wouldn't let him take one more person he loved.

Hodgins continued, "I'm just going to take some samples, okay? If he left something behind, we'll know about it."

Booth managed a nod, but his next 'thanks' stuck in his throat. After a moment, with difficulty, he lifted his eyes from the folder. Angela was standing just inside the doorway, her face ashen, eyes red, her hands resting protectively over her stomach.

Hodgins knelt on the floor, opening his kit and bending over the blood splatter for a sample. Scooping up the remaining files best he could, Booth moved out of the younger man's way, standing up, his legs uncertain beneath him.

He was oddly jealous of Hodgins, working diligently on the floor. Booth needed something to do, but he felt utterly useless. It was an odd feeling; every other time Bones had been in danger, there'd been clues, a connection to a current case. It had never been so random.

It had never been so obviously his fault.

Breaking the silence, Hodgins told Booth, "I may be awhile, man, if you want to head on back to the lab…they're done with their files, but Sweets wants to talk to you…get some more info about the phone calls, set up a profile. See if anything clicks for you."

Booth nodded almost absently, racking his brain, angry at himself. I should know who this is. I should be able to tell, I should remember…

It was Angela's voice that startled him out of the reverie, dull and lifeless, "Take this with you. The last call he was probably in a car because he was on his way to get Brennan. We may be able to pull something different next time."

She was holding out the recorder in Booth's direction, though her eyes were fixed pointedly on Hodgins' back.

"Thanks," Booth muttered, taking it from her, his gaze lingering fixedly on Angela's face, willing her to glance at him. "Do you want to ride back?" He couldn't imagine Angela being here for any reason besides Hodgins' unwillingness to leave her behind immediately following the news about her best friend.

Angela's eyes drifted shut, her voice tight as she spoke, "No. No, I don't. I can't really look at you right now, Booth, so I'm just gonna…I'm gonna wait for Hodgins."

Booth nodded, his throat narrowing. He knew that tone. It was blame.

All night he'd been blaming himself for Hannah, while everyone else (but especially Bones) had been assuring him that it wasn't his fault the way some unhinged person decided to take revenge on him for doing his job.

But now, there was no pretense, no reassurances. Bones was gone because of him. No one would tell him otherwise.

After a moment of tense silence, Booth muttered something nearly indecipherable about checking the bedroom, and he abruptly turned and moved into Brennan's room.

There was no sign of a struggle inside, but he lingered, not ready to go back to the lab and feel even more helpless.

After a moment of standing uselessly in the doorway, eyes moving slowly over his surroundings, Booth found himself staring at Bones' windowsill, across the room from him, and the small figurines sitting prominently on it.

Jasper and Brainy Smurf. Somehow the sight of them stole his breath for a moment, these tiny reminders, frivolous and inconsequential to anyone else, of what he and Bones used to have.

A second sweep of the room revealed more details that Booth didn't want to see. The stacks of paperwork on the bedside table, what looked like X-rays on the chest of drawers, an empty wine glass next to them.

Angela's words from the previous evening came back to him, as if from another lifetime, one where he'd thought Hannah was waiting for him at a restaurant and Bones was in front of him, refusing to go.

You don't notice her.

And, God, he didn't. Not anymore. He'd trained himself not to. He didn't let himself think about what his spending every night after work with Hannah (when, six months ago, he would have been with Bones) meant for her. Didn't let him think about how he was leaving her alone, how everyone around her had someone else.

He'd abandoned her. Him, the one who'd always tried to teach her that people stuck around. He was no better than her father…maybe worse. Whether or not it was the right choice, Max had left his daughter behind to protect her.

Booth had only been protecting himself.

Without realizing what he was doing, Booth had drifted closer to the window, and now he reached out and touched the tiny pig figurine, taking it in his hand.

For the first time, Booth gave into the urge he'd felt since he'd gotten that first phone call last night, hanging his head and letting tears fill his eyes at last.

~(B*B)~

As soon as Booth disappeared into Brennan's bedroom, his face twisted in obvious devastation, Angela inwardly pushed away an influx of guilt. She knew no one was blaming Booth more than Booth himself, and it was obvious in his face how much he was torturing him.

She'd just been so angry at him lately. He treated Brennan like an especially friendly colleague, friendly enough but distant and disinterested. Brennan just took it, clearly believing that she deserved it. She even defended him on the rare occasion that Angela said something against him, babbling on about the anthropological need to be around one's mate. Or something.

But Brennan was miserable. And withdrawn. And, as time went by, increasingly disconnected from everything around her.

Hodgins stood, moving into the living room where the overturned furniture was. He reached out and touched Angela's hand as he straightened. "You okay?"

Angela shook her head vehemently, glancing at the blood on the floor. "Not really, no."

Hodgins squeezed her hand once, then commented gently, "You know he's giving himself hell, Ange."

Tears welling instantly in her dark eyes, Angela protested, "What he said to her, Jack…"

"I know."

"..she would have been at the lab if he hadn't gone off on her like that. She…" her voice caught. "She would have been safe."

"I know. But he didn't know. None of us did…we didn't stop her. We didn't even think she might be in danger."

"That's because he acts like she's not important, Jack!" Angela burst out, her voice fierce. This, at least, wasn't a new conversation for them. "Six months ago we'd have known Brennan would have been one of the best ways to get to Booth! Now…now it's like she's no different than any of us. Maybe worse."

"I know," Hodgins agreed, his voice calm, his bright eyes holding hers, serious but soft. "It seems that way. But you don't really believe it. And as much as he's trying…" Hodgins nodded in the direction of the bedroom, indicating Booth. "…he doesn't either."

~(B*B)~

Booth's head was still bent low, hot tears dripping on the pig cradled in his hands when he felt a hand on his back. Startled, he turned to see Angela standing over him.

"Let's go back to the lab. Come on."

He didn't move, surprised by the lack of animosity in her eyes.

After a beat, Angela added quietly, "It wasn't your fault."

He gave a harsh, hollow laugh. "I drove her away. I'm why she was here instead…instead of with us. Hannah she…she's gone because of me, she is, but…but maybe it's not my fault. Bones…" His face twisted. "…that's on me. We both know that."

Angela didn't correct him. "You didn't know."

Booth sucked in a breath, attempting to regain control.

"Come on," Angela touched his arm gently. "Let's go to the lab."

"And do what?" His hands clenched into fists. "I don't know what to do…we have nothing to go on. I should be able to remember, to, to tell. I have to save her." He paused, breathing ragged. "Both of them. But I don't know…"

"Maybe Hodgins will find something here," Angela tried. "Or you talking with Sweets will spark something. And when he calls again, maybe we can pull something else from the phone call." When Booth didn't answer, Angela reached out and cupped his chin, pulling his gaze toward hers, her eyes glinting. "You cannot give up, Booth. Okay? We'll find them."

Slowly, he nodded. "Okay." Bracing himself on the window sill, Booth stood, pocketing the pig in his hand without realizing what he was doing. "Let's go."

~(B*B)~

"It means one of you gets to live." He chuckled, eyes brightening in sheer delight at his own plan. "And I'm going to let Agent Booth choose who."

It had been nearly five minutes since their captor had revealed the crux of his master plan, and neither Brennan or Hannah had said anything since.

Brennan was sitting a corner, legs stretched out, arms wrapped lightly around her sore ribs, while Hannah sat on the opposite corner of the small room, her knees drawn up against her chest.

Brennan hadn't missed the brief flash of relief through Hannah's eyes when they'd heard about the choice. Of course, she'd wiped it immediately in favor of a more shocked reaction, but Brennan had seen it.

And she didn't blame her.

I don't need you.

That was the last thing Booth had said. He'd made that clear over the past few months. He needed Hannah, not her.

His choice was going to be pretty simple.

But all Brennan could think was how horrible this was going to be for him. If what this man wanted was to torture Booth, he'd succeeded. Booth still felt guilty for enemies he'd killed years ago as a sniper.

This would kill him….whether he needed her or not.

It was Hannah who broke the silence after awhile, and Brennan wasn't even sure the other woman was speaking to her or just herself. "God…poor Seeley."

Brennan set her jaw and, surprised by her own intensity, countered, "Booth will find us." As soon as she said, Brennan realized that she believed it. "Both of us. He won't choose, he'll get here before he has to."

Hannah looked up from her folded hands to stare at Brennan. "You think?"

She was genuinely asking, and it reminded Brennan that this was one side of Booth Hannah wasn't yet familiar with. "Of course." She paused, addressing the opposite wall more than Hannah. "He always does."

Hannah nodded, her expression thoughtful. "He did say he'll give Seeley four hours to decide..."

"Booth can do that," Brennan murmured. "He's already had awhile, so four more hours should…he can find us."

"Even without any connection to your last case? I mean, you don't recognize this guy, so it's obviously a really old one."

"He'll find us," Brennan repeated firmly. Hannah didn't reply, and after a moment, Brennan lifted her head and gazed at the door, scrutinizing. "Although, it seems reckless of our assailant to continually enter that door unarmed. Maybe we could-"

"He isn't unarmed," Hannah interrupted. "He has a gun."

For the first time, Brennan looked at the other woman. "I haven't seen one."

Hannah smiled grimly. "He was nice enough to show me before you got here." She shrugged. "Besides you're in no shape to fight anyone. Martial arts training or not."

"I'm fine," Brennan repeated automatically, gingerly getting to her feet to prove it, her face muscles tightening as she suppressed a wince. "And I'm very skilled at combat."

"I've heard," Hannah replied. "But maybe we should give Seeley some time."

Brennan nodded noncommittally, her mind reeling, ahead, planning.

~(B*B)~

Booth had been talking to Sweets for nearly an hour, and he was getting increasingly frustrated by his inability to make a connection.

Hodgins had gotten back not too long ago and was running DNA samples from some hair he didn't think belonged to Brennan.

After awhile, Booth cut Sweets off mid question, standing up and rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, I can't…this isn't helping, I have to…." He turned his back on the younger man, walking away and muttering to himself, "I have to think."

"Hey Booth?"

"WHAT?" He nearly roared, roaring on whoever was behind him. It was Hodgins, who merely raised an eyebrow and held up his hands in surrender.

"Hey, take it easy. We ran the DNA through the system, no hits on the criminal database."

Booth stared at him, and for a moment he couldn't see straight. "So we still have…nothing."

"Well, we know it wasn't someone you put in jail. That's got to narrow it down, right? Not many people still on the streets with a grudge against you, right?"

His voice barely audible, Booth glared at Hodgins with a rage not really directed at him. "So the past thirteen hours have been waste of time?"

Hodgins grimaced a little, his voice sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

Booth turned away, a scream forming in his throat. He was dangerously close to losing it. They were no closer to answers than they had been thirteen hours ago…he had no new ideas, no clue of where to start. Hodgins had confirmed the blood on the floor was Brennan's and this, the confirmation that at least one of them was hurt, had only heightened his sense of urgency…as well as his steadily rising terror.

His phone rang.

Every head on the platform turned in his direction. They were all pretending to work, going through files they'd already read, looking for people who were involved but not captured…all of it a façade to make things seem less hopeless than they were.

Booth snatched up the phone, strangely grateful for the call just because it afforded him a connection, some sort of action. He remembered the recorder at the last moment and grabbed it, too.

Without bothering with even a false greeting, Booth demanded, "What did you do to her?"

There was a pause. Then, the voice spoke, "Good morning to you, too, Agent Booth."

His voice low and dangerously quiet, Booth repeated, emphasizing every word. "What. Did. You. Do?"

"Oh, oh, you went to the apartment. Yes, left that one a little messier than I'd have liked, but…your partner proved a bit more difficult than your girlfriend. I never wanted to hurt her, you know. She's done nothing to me."

Booth closed his eyes, biting back the rising, acidic taste of bile in his throat. He had to know if she was okay, but he wouldn't allow himself to ask, to give this asshole the satisfaction. So he waited, hoping for a hint.

"But don't worry. Nothing too horrible." There was a pause, as he let the unspoken yet at the end of the sentence hanging palpably over the phone lines. "As I said…we're just now getting to the good part."

Booth's frustration was at a high, and he was fighting the urge to hurl his phone across the room, to use every obscenity he knew on this bastard, to scream until his throat tore open. The only way he could keep control, it seemed, was to barely whisper, though each word still shook with poorly concealed rage. "And what, exactly, is the good part?"

"Well, we'll start with the good news. One of them gets to come back to you. Safe and sound."

"Listen, you son of a bitch, if you hurt either of the, I swear to God, I will find you and-"

The voice on the other end ignored Booth. "One I won't touch. The other…won't be so lucky."

Booth swallowed hard, waiting for more. When nothing came, he gritted out, "Fine. I'll bite. What, what does that mean? What the hell do you mean, one of them?"

"Well, you must have known someone had to die here, Agent Booth. But here's the fun part…you get to choose which one."

Booth's chest froze; the words seemed to linger, ringing in his ears, not yet sinking in deeper than that. "What?" he replied dumbly.

"You have four hours," the voice continued. "I'll call back…and you'll tell me who I should bring back to you. The other one, well-"

"No," his voice was louder than he'd intended. "No. No way. You…you sick bastard, if you hurt either of them-"

"Yes, you said that. It's getting quite boring." He laughed a little. "Four hours."

"No," This time, the word was less determined…he merely came off as panicky. Booth's heart was slamming, so hard it physically hurt. "I won't do that."

"Fine. But you realize by choosing neither…you are making choice. You're choosing for both of them to die. Up to you of course. Four hours."

There was a click, the line going dead.

Four hours. Four hours and he had nothing to go on.

He raised a shaking hand to his face, his palm instantly soaked with the slick, cold sweat overtaking him.

"Booth?" Angela's voice, tentative and shaking, was the only thing that reminded Booth of the others' presence, the fact that they were waiting for an update. "What happened?"

His hand was tight around the recorder, the proof of what had just happened. "We have to…we have to find them. In four hours, we…we have four hours to find them."

Behind him, the others exchanged horrified looks. "What…what happens in four hours?" Sweets asked quietly.

He couldn't look at them. "We just…we have to find them."

After a moment, Angela approached him. "Okay, give me the tape, I'll see what sounds I can extrapolate this time…"

As the artist held her outstretched hand toward him, Booth took an instinctive step back, irrationally wanting to keep the tape from them, not wanting them to know.

He couldn't. He'd be killing one of them. But he had only four hours…and if, at that time, he didn't choose…he'd be killing both of them.

"Booth, give it to me," Angela said, her eyebrows drawing together, confusion evident.

He shook his head dazedly.

"Seeley," Cam's voice was serious, the kind of tone that left no room for argument. "What did he say?"

Booth stared at them, his chest tightening. He couldn't keep this from him. "He wants me to choose," his voice splintered. "In four hours I…I have to choose who dies."

Four shocked faces stared back at him. For a long moment, no one knew what to say. It was Angela wh, finally, dared to ask, "But…who are you-"

"No," he cut her off harshly. "No, I can't. I…I can't. We will find them." He shoved the recorder at Angela. "I just…I just have to think. I can figure this out, I know this guy. I can find them."

He turned his back on them, walking away, pretending not read the anxious question on every face.

But what if you can't?

~(B*B)~

Judging from Hannah's steady breathing in the corner, Brennan was fairly certain the other woman had drifted off.

She was glad for the silence, the ability to think.

There was no way of knowing if Booth knew yet about the choice he might have to make.

More than anything else, she didn't want him to have to do that. Brennan knew that, if Booth couldn't save both of them, would be one mark on his cosmic balance sheet he'd never be able to cancel out.

The guilt would eat away at him, torture him. It would change him, for good. And for the past five months, Brennan had only wanted him to be happy.

She missed him. She'd been lonely. But Brennan could handle solitude; she was used to it, and she'd never allowed herself to expect much beyond that.

Booth needed someone. Someone capable of loving him. Someone who could give him the marriage and family he always wanted.

Someone with an open heart.

More than anyone she knew, Booth deserved to be happy. Brennan couldn't let this man ruin that.

She would not let him choose.

After awhile, a vague plan taking shape in her mind, Brennan moved quietly around the room until she was beside the door. Squinting through the relative darkness, Brennan mimicked Hannah's position and leaned against the wall just beside the door. She closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

Time passed, agonizingly slow. But eventually, Brennan's patience was rewarded…the door creaked open.

Her breath freezing her lungs, Brennan forced her eyes to stay closed, silently willing the door not to close immediately.

It didn't…and after a moment, Brennan heard footsteps, moving further into the room, somewhere between Brennan and the door.

She didn't wait. She opened her eyes and, in a quick motion, seized the man's legs and sent him crashing to the floor.

He grunted as he landed, and across the room, Hannah's eyes snapped open just in time to see Brennan struggling to her feet.

"Hannah, come on, go."

Barely awake, Hannah stood up a little stiffly, but the man was faster. He seized her wrist, using her to pull himself up and immediately wrapping an arm around her.

And sure enough, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a gun.

He pointed it first at Brennan, who was half in the doorway, half outside, ready to run. "Try running. You won't get far in this place." Then he turned the gun and pressed it against Hannah's temple. "You take another step out the door, I'll shoot her. And I'll be a few steps behind you…and you'll wish I'd make it that quick."

Brennan felt her heart sinking; somewhere, she knew she was beat. Still, she shot back, "You do that your plan's ruined. There's no choice anymore."

The man seemed to jab the gun a little harder against the other woman's hair. "Somehow I think finding both of your bodies will be sufficient enough to make Booth suffer. Don't you?" Brennan didn't answer, hatred burning inside her unlike any she'd felt before. "Get inside. Now."

She didn't move.

He clicked the safety.

"Okay." Brennan stepped back into the room, moving quickly away from the door. "Alright."

Instantly, their captor let go of Hannah, shoving her unceremoniously to the floor. He started toward the door, seemingly eager to get between the means of escape and Brennan

As he walked past her, silent, without warning, he grabbed her arm, spun her toward him in a quick motion, and slammed the barrel of the gun across her face.

Brennan crumpled, from the surprise as much as from the force. Her cheekbone was on fire, blood pouring instantly, soaking her face for the second time that day.

Walking casually away, the man made a point to step down hard on Brennan's broken fingers, now sprawled out on the floor. She couldn't stop a cry of pain from escaping, and was dimly aware of Hannah's sharp intake of breath behind her.

Brennan lay on the floor, desperately fighting nausea, when his voice washed over her, as matter of fact as though nothing had just occurred. "I let Agent Booth know of our terms about half an hour ago. Just thought you'd want to know."

The door clicked shut.

Brennan squeezed her eyes shut, tears filling them, half from pain, half from fury. She didn't move from the floor.

After a long moment, Brennan felt a shaky hand rest on her back. "Temperance?" Hannah's voice, too, still sounded shaky. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she answered, through gritted teeth.

"Thank you," Hannah whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't faster…"

Brennan slowly pulled herself up to a sitting position, though ducking her face until she got her emotions in check. "You weren't in a particularly convenient location for it…I didn't think that through."

"Still. Thank you for…for saving me."

Brennan swiped her sleeve under her eyes, under the pretense of pressing it against the blood on her cheek, which completely numb. Looking up at last, she asserted, "It's fine, it was...it was my fault he had you like that. And I'm…I'm not letting him do that to Booth."

For a long stretch of silence, Hannah just stared her searchingly, in a way that made Brennan uneasy. Finally, though, she just nodded. "Right."

Brennan turned away from the inquisitive stare of Hannah, moving again toward a corner, leaning against the wall and pressing her sleeve against her throbbing cheek with her good hand.

She was beginning to doubt her ability to escape…maybe she could have done it. But she couldn't get Hannah out, too. Not in such a small space. Not when he had that gun.

It didn't change things. She wouldn't let Booth make the choice.

She'd have to take it out of his hands.

That way, he wouldn't have the guilt. Brennan knew Booth well enough to know he was most likely torturing himself over what he'd said to her, the fact that those could be the last words he spoke to her…a fact he would hold in great importance.

But if Hannah went back…Brennan could get a message to him. She could forgive him. And at least he wouldn't be the one choosing her fate. She'd take away the responsibility.

And, privately, somewhere in the deepest, private part of Brennan's mind, she acknowledged another benefit.

She'd never have to know. Not for sure. Brennan was nearly positive Booth would choose Hannah if he had to. She was a much bigger part of his life now. She was his girlfriend. His mate. Anthropologically, that had much more significance than a colleague, a partner.

Besides. Booth needed Hannah, Brennan reminded herself. He didn't need her.

But this way…it would forever be a theory, a hypothesis. Highly probable, with a large amount of evidence.

Just never tested. Never proven. Not for sure.

And that, maybe, Brennan could bear.

So there's that chapter. Obviously a pretty significant one…but much more is coming. I' (kudos to those of you who, to an extent, predicted what Brennan might consider doing…though there are more twists coming.) I'm pretty sure the next chapter should be up pretty quickly, because it's one I've been really excited to write since the beginning. Though this is still just the beginning for Booth and Brennan (and the others, of course)…hope it's still exciting for everyone.

Again, reviews are the best motivation of all time. You guys are the best.