A/N: Here it is. The last chapter to this fiction. It didn't go quite as I had planned, but Branwyn took it this way so what can I do?

Thanks to Goldy for beta'ing this, although I've changed a few things since then, so all mistakes are mine.

Oh, and I tried to end this a little more like the show. So be forewarned, no declarations of undying love. Sorry.

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The first thing Seeley Booth became aware of was a throbbing in his head. Next, he became conscious of the fact that his hands were tied above his head and his body was cold and hurting. Booth cracked his eyelids open slightly, preparing himself for the assault of light on his dilated pupils, but found the room was only dimly lit. He fought down the urge to lift his head and look around- knowing that too much movement too fast would cause dizziness. Slowly, he began his stationary search of his surroundings. Finally his eyes settled on her and his heart broke. I had to do it, he thought, trying to convince himself that he had made the right choice.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, his voice cracking with pain and regret. He hoped that his words would make a difference, but knew that nothing he said would make it right. When she didn't say anything, he went on, "If there was another way I would have taken it." Still she didn't respond, or even pick her eyes up to look at him. "Please," he begged. "Please look at me." Booth dropped his head when silence met him. I don't blame her for hating me. Time ticked by, and neither of them spoke.

"Why?" The single word broke through the silence and echoed around the empty room, causing Booth to lift his head and lock gazes with the questioner. Her eyes were narrowed in…hate? "Why me?" Before he could answer, a humming sound reached his ears, and his world exploded in white. The electricity came through wires twisted into his chains and into his body. He cried out in pain and couldn't help the tears that spilled from his eyes. He could see her staring at him in horror, but she didn't call out.

He wasn't sure how long the assault lasted before the current was cut, and he slumped down, too exhausted to hold himself up. The cuffs dug into the tender skin around his wrists and his shoulders burned against the strain. His whole body tingled and he was sure his heart was beating at an odd rate.

"How does it feel?" the voice from earlier asked from the darkness, but Booth couldn't answer. His throat was too dry from screaming out in pain. "The great Agent Booth is at a lost for words." From the shadows stepped a man dressed in a black suit. Booth lifted his head with much effort to look at his captor.

"What do you want?" the agent forced out, his voice heavy with anguish and dry with fear.

"Simple," the man said, coming to stand before Booth. "I want you to die."

Booth's eyes stayed narrowed toward the man as he spoke, "Then let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

"Ah, a noble gesture, but alas, I can not. You see, I want you to know how it feels to choose between two people you care for. The way you made me choose."

Booth shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." A backhand across his face was the man's reply. Booth shook his head again, trying to clear out the fog that had settled there. He watched the man regarded him in disgust and then turn toward her.

"It surprised me, you know?" the man said. "I thought he would have picked you to live." With that, he left the room and disappeared back into the darkness. Booth opened his mouth to speak but the sudden hum instantly dried his throat. He didn't have time to think before his body first stiffened and the jerked as the electric current entered him again. His world went blank.

He wasn't sure how long he had been out, only that his arms were numb from the strain of having them above his head. Booth squeezed his eyes shut before he even opened them. The room was quiet-too quiet. He couldn't even hear the sound of her breathing. His chest tightened with fear, and he forced his lids open and looked through the dim light to where she was chained. Nothing. His heart raced and he struggled from his knees to his feet. Where is she? He swung his head franticly from one side to the other searching, but he was alone. "Lose someone?" The question floated through the air followed by a laugh that made Booth sick to the stomach.

"Where is she?" he called out though cracked lips. "What the hell did you do to her?"

"Now, now Agent Booth," the man said, walking into the light for Booth to see. "Is that any way to talk to me?" Booth spat in the man's general direction. "Your chosen one will be back in a moment, no need to get angry."

"Angry?" Booth snapped. "I'm angry because some manic is holding us prisoner."

"I'm far from being a manic," the man said.

"Depends on whom you ask," Booth mumbled under his breath as a door on the far side on the room opened.

"Ah, here's the Chosen One now." Booth watched as she crossed the room, and gasped when he was able to take in her new outfit-a white, gown like in his dreams.

"Oh God." The curse fell from his lips before he could stop it and the woman looked up at him.

"Agent Booth," the man said, pulling the agent's attention to him. "How does it feel to know you're about to kill someone?" Booth's breath caught in his throat as his nightmares flashed back to him. The smell of blood reached his nose, and he had to fight to hold down the bile that was inching up his throat. "Don't look so worried, Agent Booth. Just think of it like your Army days." The man laughed as he turned away and began towards the woman.

"No," Booth called out, but the man didn't stop. Simply took hold of the woman's hand and lead her to chains. Why doesn't she fight? Booth questioned himself. She could have run.

"The doors are rigged," the man said, as he fastened the cuffs around slender wrists. "Open them and the place goes boom." He turned from the woman and offered Booth a smile. "That, and our Chosen One is a bit on the loopy side until the drugs wear off. But don't fret, Agent Booth, when the time comes for you to kill her, she will be bright eyed and fully aware." Booth watched the man leave and turned his eyes back to the…Chosen One. The words sent shivers down his spine and made his soul run cold. He knew what was coming and knew that he had to stop it. But how?

Booth wasn't sure when he had drifted off into slumber, but his dreams were the same tortured nightmares from the past two weeks. The iron smell of blood floated on the air and he could just make out the outline of a person in front of him. As he neared, he called out to her. "Guardian." He made his way to the older woman with the blue eyes and fell to his knees in exhaustion. "What do I do?" he asked, looking up at her.

"You've made your choice, Agent Booth," Guardian told him softly, shaking her head. "And I must say, it surprises me that you are going this route."

"I'm full of surprises," he said, his voice harsh and his eyes darkening with defiance.

"Remember, Seeley," she began. "We must live with our choices. Can you?"

Booth stared up at her a moment, before bringing his feet under him and pushing himself up off the ground. "Yes." The world he was in twisted, and Booth jerked awake-sweat dripping down his forehead and neck. His eyes scanned the room and found his Chosen One sitting cross-legged on the floor across from him. Booth let his eyes shut and breathed out a sigh of relief. It wasn't too late. "Are you okay?" he asked, forcing his eyelids open. The woman lifted her gaze to his but didn't speak. "Would you talk to me, damn it?"

"What is there to say?" she asked. "I'm your Chosen One, so I guess it doesn't matter." Booth could hear the anger and hurt laced into her voice as she spoke.

"It does matter, cause we're gonna get out of here," he told her.

"There's traps on the doors," she pointed out. "We're both chained to walls, you don't have a gun, and there's a crazy man holding us hostage. How do you plan on getting away?"

"I'll think of something," he said, pulling on his restraints to test their strength, and when they held, he finally gave up. He struggled to his feet, his arms screaming from the pain, and looked around. Think, Seeley, he demanded of himself. His thoughts were cut into when the sound of a door squeaked open.

"Ah, Agent Booth," the man said, stepping into the light. "I see that you've awoken from your sleep."

"Why are you doing this?" Booth asked, as the man unchained the Chosen One from the wall and led her to the center of the room.

"Why? For revenge," the man answered simply. He instructed the woman to sit on the altar before he continued. "You see, Agent Booth, you made me make this choice years ago. Chose between two women I loved. My beautiful Kathy or my darling Rose." The man seemed to drift into the past for a moment, before shaking his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Soon, very soon you will feel the blood of the Chosen One slide across your hands as you plunge the dagger into her chest. I will make you watch the life drain from her lovely eyes then I will make you live with that fact."

Booth's head snapped up. "But you're going to kill me."

"Oh, no, Agent Booth, that's never been my intentions. I plan on you living with the guilt-with the image of her dying, the knowledge that you killed her. You see, knowing that it will slowly drive you crazy is much more enjoyable than taking your life." The man turned to the Chosen One. "And as soon as she's to her normal self, so she can beg to for mercy, then the time will be upon us." The man caressed the woman's face, before lifting a knife from the concrete bed. "And this shall be your weapon." The man turned back to Booth, the jeweled handle dagger gripped in one hand. A gasp escaped the agent's lips. "You see, I know your weakness. You care too much. I know that living everyday with the knowledge that you killed her, and that everybody knows you did, will make you mad. And Agent Booth, there's nothing I want more that to watch you go mad." Booth was stunned. This wasn't where it was supposed to be.

"No," he said softly.

"Oh, yes." Booth's eyes flicked from the man to the Chosen One and then back, but in the brief moment he made eye contact, he saw her eyes flash, and knew the drugs had long ago wore off. He also knew this was their only chance.

"It's not going to work," Booth said, praying his voice sounded solid. "I've killed before. It's hard, but I won't go mad."

"Nice try, Agent Booth, but I know you too well."

"You don't know me," Booth went on.

"Don't toy with me, Booth," the man hissed.

"You don't know how I'll react," Booth went on.

"I know it'll drive you mad."

"Yeah, well, I'm getting a little mad with you right now," Booth shot at him. "One more notch on my belt won't make much of a difference."

"Nice try, Agent Booth, but I see what you're doing."

"Really? Cause I'm just pointing out that because you're not man enough to live with your choices doesn't mean I'm not."

"Shut up," the man almost yelled, turning his full attention to Booth. Brennan took the cue and landed a kick to the man's back, sending him staggering forward. The man quickly turned, but Brennan was too quick, she jumped to her feet, and, despite the gown, was able to land a second, more powerful kick. Booth watched in horror as Brennan and the man fought, the dagger coming too close to Brennan's chest for Booth's comfort. He saw the blade slash her arm, saw the blood begin to stain the white fabric, and felt his heart stop. The wound didn't stop Brennan from fighting, and soon the man was falling backwards into Booth. The agent reacted quickly, and wrapped his legs around the man's neck, concentrating all his strength to not letting go. After a moment of struggle, the man relaxed and Booth let him fall to the ground. He was pretty sure his right shoulder was dislocated and his legs were bleeding from where the man slashed at them with the knife, but he was alive. More importantly, she was alive.

"You okay?" he asked, lifting her eyes to meet hers.

Brennan nodded yes from where she sat on the floor holding her stab wound. "Yeah." For a moment nothing was said, and neither one moved. Finally, Brennan stood, crossed over to the unconscious man, fetched the keys from his pockets and unlocked the cuffs from Booth's wrists. She didn't bother to catch him as he fell to his knees.

"Thanks," he said, pain evident in his voice. "Let me explain," he begged, as he caught her arm as she turned to leave.

"There's nothing to explain, Booth," she told him.

"Yes, there is." He pulled on her arm and struggled to his feet.

"I understand…"

"No, you don't," he interrupted. Once he was to his feet, he brought his eyes up to meet hers. "Don't think I chose you to stay because I wanted you to die."

"Then why?" she asked. "Why me and not Cam?"

"Because," he started slowly. "There's no one else I would rather have my back than you. I couldn't let you die, Bones," he went on. "And having you here was the only way to ensure it. Hate me if you must, but don't doubt that I was trying to save you." Brennan was about to respond when the cry of sirens reached them. "They found us," Booth said, relieved.

"But how?" Brennan questioned.

"Tracking device," he answered with a smile. "In my shoe." Brennan shared the smile as the lights from the cars came through the only window.

XxXxX

Booth sat alone in a small room at the local hospital. The flimsy gown they made him put on, left him with a draft and he shifted to try and cover himself more. His arm had been put back in place and his cuts cleaned and dressed; now he was waiting on the doctor to look over the x-rays. He swung his feet to a tune in his head as he thought back to what he had told Brennan only a few hours earlier. He had meant every word of it. There was nobody in the world he would rather have at his back. Booth let his eyes close as a sad sigh fell from his lips. A light tap on the door brought his eyes open and he called out, "Come in." The door opened and his breath caught when Brennan stepped in.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked, shutting the door behind her.

"Yeah," he answered. She was dressed much the same way he was, except she had on a pair of hospital slippers. They fell into silence as Brennan walked over to his bed and sat beside him. "Are you?"

"I think so," she answered, starring at her hands clasped in front of her.

"Listen, Bones, I'm sorry," he started. "Sorry for everything. I should have told you about the nightmares. Then maybe…"

"Nonsense," Brennan said when he let the sentence trail off. "That man was crazy. It would have happen anyway."

"I just, I just hate that I hurt you." Booth looked over at her. "I never want to hurt you."

"I know," she answered. "Did you mean what you said? About me having your back?"

"Of course. You're my partner, my friend. I trust you with my life. I knew that if I wanted to make it out alive, then I needed you." Brennan glanced down at her hands again and then back up.

"I'm glad," she started. "That you trust me that much." Booth offered her a smile as he reached over and covered her hands with his.

"My life, Temperance," he said, softly. "Now and always, with my life." Brennan returned the smile and they sat in comfortable silence waiting for the doctor.

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The End