Author's note at end of chapter this time. :-) Enjoy!!
Previously on Mistaken Identity (Chapter 17) . . .
"Agent Booth, it would seem that you are not in the mood to talk right now. You have been very quiet. Oh well, it's probably best that you rest your voice anyway because - trust me, you WILL talk later – one way or another." she then disappeared through the door, slamming it tightly behind her. Booth could hear the sound of a steel bar being pushed into place on the other side of the door, barring it from opening from his side. No matter how much strength he regained, if he somehow got himself freed of the pipe he was cuffed to.
He slumped back against the cot in frustration. If he was going to attempt an escape, he would have to wait, and hope, that they took him elsewhere for the 'Q and A session' as he preferred to call it. It didn't sound as intimidating or painful as the kind of session he knew they most likely had in mind.
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Mistaken Identity
Chapter 18
Warehouse – Approx 5:30 P.M. / About 7 hours Into Booth's Captivity . . .
Booth had eventually succumbed to a fitful sleep - having finally been unable to overcome by the effects of the concussion combined with his horizontal position on the cot. Not even the stiffness in his joints from hours of being in the same position, nor the anxiety he felt by not knowing what lay ahead – had any effect on his earlier fight to stay awake.
He awoke with a start, jerking abruptly and yelling out the name of his soul mate, having been dreaming of her, frantic, bloody and running from someone . . ."BONES!"
Then he immediately yelled out for a second time - "Owww!" he hollered as the actions of jerking awake and yelling her name had jarred his head something fierce - causing him a tremendous flash of pain. He immediately forced himself to breath deeply, instantly calming himself down. He had to kick his FBI training into high gear and start establishing some plans.
Plans to stall, plans to keep them from shifting their focus onto Bones, escape plans, a plan of attack and a plan B to back up all the initial plans. There was no time to whine about a little headache. But before long, he heard the telltale sound of someone sliding of the bar out of place, the one that held the door to his room locked in position from the outside. This time two men came in, definitely on a mission but in complete silence as they each went to opposite sides of Booth's cot, not even bothering to look him in the eyes. Booth decided if they were going to ignore him, then he would speak up, he wanted to bait them in hopes of finding out where they were taking him. "So, where we goin' fellas? Is it time for Dinner already? You guys got some kind of cafeteria in this place or are we going to order take-out?". He knew he was pissing them off but at this point he didn't really care. Besides trying to find our where they were taking him - he actually had another reason for trying to intentially anger them.
"You might want to keep your smart ass comments to a minimum Agent Booth!" one man – or Sam rather unbeknown to Booth - finally piped up, having had enough of their hostage's annoying remarks. As he spouted his warning to Booth, he held the strong Agent's ankles pressed firmly down into the mattress, pinning him - while his sidekick unlocked Booth's cuffs from around the wall pipe. Booth scoffed at the unnecessary hold on his feet since they were bound so tightly he couldn't kick out if he wanted to.
The second man, Nikolai, joined in with a warning of his own, "Yeah! We'll see if you still have the urge to make wise cracks once our Boss gets his hands on you. He should be here aaannyy second." by the end of his sentence he had already forced Booth to turn slightly on his side so he could re-cuff his hands behind his back.
'Perfect, it worked!' Booth rejoiced to himself. He knew he would be able to tell if one or both of these thugs had been there during his previous kidnapping, but in order to do that, he had to hear both of their voices. 'Too bad only one of these to imbeciles was there that night - that means there has to be at least one more person in this dangerous team since Booth recalled a third voice from the night of his first kidnapping, but he had yet to find the man behing that missing voice.'
Booth's torso was brutally forced back to a reclining position on the cot, as he heard the tell tale click of a safety being removed on a gun. Moving only his eyes towards the eerie sound, his orbs were greeted by the hollow metal barrel of the deadly weapon. "Now you try ANYthing while Sammy here releases your legs and feet, I have no qualms about plugging a bullet into your shoulder. Can't kill ya - but we do have permission to use whatever force necessary to keep you in line.
Booth got the point and resolved to the fact that he would have to find another opportunity to escape later. Within minutes they had his feet free and for whatever reason, they had affixed a blindfold over his eyes, one that tightly covered them from just below the top of his head all the way down to his cheekbones, ensuring he would not be able to see at all. He was rather forcefully led through what he assumed was an abandoned old warehouse. Judging by the cold atmosphere and musty smell - as well as the echoes that remained after the few words his two 'escorts' had uttered along the way. Though knowing it was an abandoned warehouse was of no help to him whatsoever, there was probably hundreds of them throughout the DC and surrounding areas.
He then tried to focus on any sounds he could hear from outside the building. He hoped to hear anything that would help narrow down the location of the warehouse, listening for anything from trains which would mean they were actually in the heart of the manufacturing district, to sirens which could signify the more crime ridden and depressed areas of DC where a lot of the homeless were known to seek shelter inside places just like the one Booth found himself in.
So far though, he heard nothing. No telltale sounds of any kind.
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Back at the Jeffersonian / Same Estimated Time Frame . . .
Some of the Lab test results had already come back, one being the sample of blood that was found at the scene. "I'm sorry Dr. Brennan, but it's Booth's." Cam gently informed her, hating to have to cause her friend the added pain of knowing that her Partner was indeed injured. Brennan's shoulder's visibly slumped with disappointment. Even though she knew it was most likely his blood she still retained some hope that it would turn out to be from one of the kidnappers being injured by Booth as he most likely fought back. But, hearing Cam confirm that it was his - affected her even more than she had anticipated.
"But Temperance," Cam continued, dropping the formal titles and talking friend to friend, "But there is good news to go with that." Brennan perked up slightly in anticipation, "Based on the small amounts of blood that were found, I can tell you that he most likely isn't suffering from any serious or life threatening injury. I hope that at least gives you a little peace of mind."
Brennan offered Cam a hint of a smile, one that never reached her tired eyes but was the best she could give at the moment. On her way towards her own office, she stepped into the section of the Lab where Wendell and Hodgins were cleaning and reassembling the remaining pieces of the explosive device. "Dr. Hodgins, do you have anything yet?" she asked, not even trying to hide her lack of energy and enthusiasm.
"We are getting closer to being able to determine one serial number, since we are missing a couple of the digits, Ang is helping us to create a list of all of the possible combinations by trying to determine what format the Serial Numbers appear to be in."
Noticing the look of confusion on his bosses face, he explained "What I mean is, some serial numbers have a format of 3 letters/5 numerical digits/2 letters/1 numerical digit. We have already determined the format of this ID for the most part – but Angela is filling in the 2 gaps we have due to a couple of missing pieces that were destroyed in the small explosion. When she is done, we will use the list of possible ID's to start digging for the Manufacturer whom utilizes that exact format." he was obviously proud of their work and hoped to bring his Boss some hope.
Once again Brennan nodded, giving the boys the same lame hint of a smile as she had given Cam. One that was as close to a real smile as she could muster at this point – her mind too cluttered with worry and fear to offer anything else.
Continuing on her path to get to the privacy of her office, she was hoping to then focus and attempt to think like Booth. She planned to think back to past cases in hopes of determining what Booth would do next at this point. He was the Investigator, and even though she was a Genius, she knew that he was one in his own right when it came to catching criminals and uncovering even the most hidden of clues. He also had a seemingly natural ability when it came to interrogating witnesses, often tricking them into admitting details that they had no intention of divulging. As she sat down in her plush leather desk chair, she realized that she almost felt as though half of her was missing.
She and Booth had become so in tune with one another, that when he wasn't around, she almost felt as though something was missing, almost as though she was forgetting something, yet unable to determine what. Then the instant Booth returned to her side, the feeling disappeared completely.
Then just as she began to scroll through the Soft copy file in regard to this new case, the case in which her Partner was the victim of the crime, she was startled to the point of physically flinching, as her cell phone began to ring.
Warehouse . . .
Booth found himself being caught off guard as he was shoved harshly into a cement wall immediately upon entering what he gathered to be another room [ similar to the one he had just been taken from. One of the thugs pinned him roughly to the wall by applying pressure with his elbow and forearm across Booth's windpipe. Pressing hard enough to cause the Agent to struggle for air. Booth knew enough of this maneuver, to know that if he attempted anything, the man could crush his windpipe in the blink of an eye just by increasing the pressure by just a little bit more. Not only that, but the thug currently choking him also held the barrel of a gun pointed directly at Booth's stomach which he knew was one of the most painful and slow ways you could die when it came to gunshot wounds . So once again Booth wisely refrained from making any attempts to break free and escape.
Booth shifted his focus off of his increasing discomfort and again started to focus on what else was going on around him. He heard the sound of a chair being dragged over next to him - he tried to determine what the hell they had in mind for him. The choke hold was released causing him to gasp for air, wanting desperately to lean forward in an effort to pull more oxygen into his starved lungs. But his position prevented him from moving any which way. His neck was killing him from the painful pressure, he felt as though his windpipe had indeed been damaged, even though he knew that most likely, the awful sensation would dissipate shortly.
His focus shifted as he felt the cuffs being onlocked from only one of his raw and aching wrists as Thug number 2 - which was all Booth knew them as at this point- yanked his arm roughly upwards, pulling his single cuffed hand up with him as he climbed up onto the chair. Booth could hear the obvious sound of the metal chain on his cuffs as they were thrown over what sounded like another pipe protruding from the ceiling, he didn't need to hear anything else to know what was coming next.
Within just under a minute, they had both of Booth's hands secured in the metal bracelets once again, only this time, his shoulders and arms were immediately aching from their suspended position above his head. His feet were barely touching the ground, but he knew it could have been much worse as he recalled his time as a POW when his captors had put him in the same position - but in that instance, his feet didn't even come close to touching the ground.
His ankles were duct taped together but not secured to anything. Both Booth and his 2 escorts knew that Booth would not be able to get enough momentum to kick at anyone with enough force to do any harm - since doing so, could easily pull one or both of his shoulder's out of their sockets.
'This is going to be a long night.' Booth thought as he closed his eyes behind the blindfold, silently willing his Partner to find him faster. But on the other hand, the thought of her doing that also brought fear to his mind because he did not want her to come here and risk getting injured or killed herself! Especially not because of him.
The blindfold was left on as the thugs left him alone in the cold room, hanging there like a side of beef. Booth chuckled at the thought, remembering how some of the women in the Hoover Building sometimes referred to him as 'Booth the Beefcake' when they wanted to make him blush, which he did – every time! But never did he feel like he was deserving of such a frivolous title as he did right now - but not in the same fashion that the ladies meant to imply! But it made him laugh just the same.
His momentary laughter stemmed more from the giddiness that true exhaustion creates – in the initial stages. He knew that the more fatigued his mind became due to the head injury and lack of real sleep, the more severe the signs of exhaustion would become. His normally sharp instincts and observation skills would slowly diminish to the point where - he would be less effective when he did try to escape or overpower anyone. He knew he would have to either attempt such a feat soon, or find ways to cat nap whenever he could to keep his mind as sharp as possible.
His giddiness and pondering thoughts were about to come to an abrupt and painful end.
The door to the room slammed against the inner cement wall as someone entered it with a vengeance. Booth instantly noted that the sound of this intruder's shoes, sounded different than the two thugs who delivered him to his new cell. This had to be the 'Boss' they kept referring to. 'Well, here we go' Booth thought, preparing himself for a very long and most likely painful evening.
TBC . . .
I know I say this all the time but I really will try to update faster – I am somewhat re-motivated with this story – no thanks to the current Season of Bones though. I just feel like the Writers of the show are now TOO focused on the romance and comedy so now all of the action and drama is gone. To me it was always the COMBINATION of all of those things that made me fall in love with the show. Well that and the amazingly talented cast. I just don't want to see the Writer's tunnel vision, result in declining ratings. I will try to make up for that lack of action/drama – in my stories (like I said before).
THANK YOU ALL for Reading/Reviewing/Fave Author Alerts/ Fave Story Alerts – ALL of it.
I appreciate you all hanging in there with me.