Ok, everyone first eva fanfic so don't be too harsh. I don't know if this is even going to work, with the whole chapters gig. + please don't sue me. I don't own anything of importance, expecially not FOX television shows such as Bones. Wish I did though. Ok here I go...:

During the glimmers of awareness Seely Booth thought of her. The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she glared at him. The day she had danced with him in her apartment. The day she cried into his shoulder. When she was happy, sad, heartbroken, lost, drunk. Those little moments when she let her walls down and allowed him to see behind her so carefully placed defenses. Would he ever see her again?

Breaking through the darkness shrouding his brain, he began to struggle against the bonds again. Pain shot through his twisted arms and into his shoulders. Blood ran from the chafe wounds on his wrists. Wincing, he gritted his teeth and tried to pull his hands free of the handcuffs. Never had he tried so desperately to be free. Never had he wanted so desperately to see Temperance Brennan.

Footsteps. His captors. He felt dread in the pit of his stomach. The door opened. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths. He knew what was coming. He knew it. Go away, he thought, stop it. Leave me be. He had never felt so alone

He felt his captor stand over him, staring at him. But he didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to look at any of the men who had caused him so much pain. A question was asked. They had asked it a little while ago too. And before that. Booth had no idea how long it had been, though. He didn't know if it was day or night. If it had been an hour or a year since he'd last seen her. He had lost track of time.

The question, again. Shivering slightly, he shook his head in defiance. His captor hit him across his face and he felt his head snap to the side. Blood started to trickle from the corner of his mouth. The question was asked again. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at his torturer.

"No," he said, in barely more than a whisper. This time, he was kicked in the chest. He felt at least two of his ribs break. Biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain, he recoiled and felt his body curl around his injuries as best it could. An instinct, to protect himself.

We will find her eventually, they said, whether you tell us or not. Tell us, Seely. Tell us and we will make your death humane and painless. The man's voice was brusque and harsh.

"No," he felt a blade slice his right arm. Tears of pain and exhaustion streamed down his face. He was too weak to struggle. Too injured to move. Too devoid of hope to fight. He stared at the flecks of his own blood on the floor, thinking.

He heard the sound of a lighter. No, he thought. No more, please. The question. He could barely move his head but somehow he managed to convey his answer. His torturer placed the flam near his elbow and he could feel his flesh begin to burn. He screamed in pain and begged them to stop. They did.

We can stop ALL this, if you want, they said. He tried to block out the voice. Just tell us. No? You sure? Oh well. I'll just break your arm. How 'bout that? He inhaled sharply and his hoped captor didn't. He prayed would loss his grasp on consciousness soon. But he didn't answer the question.

Seely Booth knew he was going to die. He wished it would be soon.

But he would never give up the safe house location for the women he loved.