Voyeur - Angst, rated M for Mature Themes

Rating: M
Pairing: B&B
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort
Summary: Sequel to Wounded and Scarred. Brennan and Celia meet for lunch...
tune in to find out what happens afterward.

Author's Note: The long wait is finally over. This is the promised sequel to Wounded and Scarred. If you'd like to read or reread that, feel free to do so, but it isn't necessary to understand this story. I apologize that it took me so long, but this story is much more complex than the last one. It is rated M because it contains some very mature themes. Thanks to redrider6612 for helping me brainstorm through writer's block and for all her editing. Thanks to FauxMaven for her editing and helping me come up with chapter titles. Thanks to luli27 for her legal input. All errors are my own.

Chapter 1: Velvet Cage
Brennan leaned back in her chair, sighing in relief that she'd finished the next chapter of her latest book. Her agent was pushing her to finish the whole thing, preferably as soon as possible. Thinking back over the last few weeks, she decided it was entirely understandable that she was a few chapters behind.

When she and Booth informed Cullen that they'd decided to pursue a romantic relationship, he hadn't split them up as she'd feared, but they were on probation. Between their heavier-than-normal caseload and a few dates with Booth, her writing time had been severely limited. Plus, she'd met Celia for coffee a few times.

Speaking of Celia, Brennan glanced at the clock on the wall. If she didn't leave right now, she'd be late meeting her new friend for lunch. Grabbing her jacket and purse, she headed toward the exit.

She zipped her coat against the nippy fall air and picked up her pace, hurrying toward the deli that had recently opened next to the Circuit City. She had been looking forward to introducing Angela to Celia, but the artist had come down with the flu.

Opening the door of the deli, Brennan stepped into the warmth. It only took her a moment to spot her friend sitting at nearby table. She shrugged out of her coat as she walked toward the empty chair.

"Hi, Celia," she said.

"Hi, Temperance. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Just the usual writing and working."

The other woman laughed. "Yeah, meeting me for coffee, and a few dates with Seeley. Speaking of Seeley, when are you two coming swing dancing with us again?"

"We've had so much work, we can hardly find a moment to ourselves. But it looks like things might be slowing down, so maybe this weekend?"

"You know I'm gonna hold you to that!"

The waiter cleared his throat to get their attention. "What can I get for you today?"

Both women ordered the soup and salad special.

"I can't believe it's only been a month since Sam and I met you guys at that dance club," said Celia. "I feel like I've know you forever."

Brennan smiled. She didn't normally make friends this quickly, but something told her she could trust this woman. They didn't have a lot in common, but they were both independent and career-oriented.

"I can't believe I didn't know that Booth could dance like that. You two totally amazed the crowd."

Celia giggled. "You know what? The place was packed more than usual the next weekend, and last week the owner asked me if 'that guy I danced with' was going to be back."

"If you're going to drag us out dancing regularly, maybe I'd better take some lessons."

"Why the sudden interest in dancing? I don't get the idea that you love it."

Brennan shrugged, not willing to say why. Booth was a good-looking guy, and there was no way she was going to watch him dancing with other women. If she had to take a few lessons to catch up, so be it.

The waiter arrived with their food, and they began to eat. The rest of lunch passed pleasantly for both women. Conversation flowed easily and the food was tasty. As they stood to leave, Brennan looked out and saw the wind had begun to blow. She shivered thinking about the walk back to work.

Noticing the direction of her friend's gaze, Celia offered, "I could give you a ride to the Jeffersonian. My car is just around back."

Brennan nodded gratefully, and they exited the restaurant and turned into the narrow alley toward the parking lot in the rear, chatting about the fall weather and an upcoming dance recital at Celia's studio.

Perhaps that's why neither of them noticed the furtive footfalls behind them. Brennan felt a strange prickling sensation at the back of her neck the moment before strong muscular arms jerked her backward against a man's body. Her attacker pressed a cloth to her face. Immediately, she held her breath, trying not to inhale whatever chemical was on the cloth. She reached for the arm around her chest to throw him, but he tightened his grip forcing the air out of her lungs, causing her to gasp and inhale the cloying smell of chloroform.

When Brennan regained consciousness, her body ached from being in an uncomfortable position. As she moved her arm to relieve the tension in her neck, Celia groaned.

"Celia, Celia," Brennan said, gently nudging her friend. "Are you okay?"

The dancer groaned, "My head is killing me and I feel nauseated, but otherwise I think I'm okay."

Brennan smiled at her in relief and then the two turned and examined their surroundings. They were in a large concrete room, without windows. The single double-door looked very sturdy and there were oddly shaped openings near the floor similar to pet doors. A clock, a speaker, and a thermometer hung directly above the door. Apparently the room was fifty-eight degrees. 'And a bit chilly,' she thought.

"The only way out is the door," Brennan told Celia.

Pointing to the far corner, Celia noted, "There's no privacy. The bathroom's right out in the open and there's no curtain for the shower."

"That corner could almost be a movie set from a 'Spaghetti' Western. The only thing the saloon's missing are chairs and tables and those swinging doors."

The corner to their right was empty.

The room was brightly lit by an unusually large number of lights affixed to the ceiling and upper walls.

"Afraid of the dark much?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Well, there's no need for this much light, so somebody must be afraid of the dark."

"Oh, right. That makes sense I guess."

"Those poles can't be supporting the ceiling," Celia said.

Brennan glanced toward the center of the room. Several poles stretched from the floor to the ceiling, but none of them looked sturdy enough to be supporting the ceiling. Plush area carpets of various colors and patterns covered the cement floor.

"There doesn't seem to be any logic to the way this room is decorated. I don't think it could even be considered eclectic. Did you notice the bed?"

She and Celia were sitting on a very strange bed which occupied the last corner. A large triangular prism sat diagonally across the mattress and the two of them were propped against it. Smaller ones ran across the head and the foot of the bed, and protruding from each were three wedges. The sheet covering the odd bed was made from a variety of white fabrics inexpertly stitched together, flannel next to cotton next to corduroy next to satin. Brennan nudged the prism in the center of the bed. It didn't move.

Giving up on the bed, she said, "We might as well see what else is here."

She got off the bed and went to examine the bar, systematically opening drawers and finding only swatches of diaphanous fabrics of varying dimensions.

"Other than a few pieces of fabric, there's nothing here. And the cups and bottles are painted."

Meanwhile, Celia riffled through the vanity. The drawers held the usual things including toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, soap makeup, hairdryer, curling iron and an electric razor.

"All that's in here are the usual toiletries."

Looking around the room one last time, Brennan finally acknowledged the first details she'd noticed, but hadn't really wanted to think about. Cameras covered the room like flies on a corpse.

"Temperance," Celia called, her teeth chattering, "I'm getting really cold."

"I take it you don't handle the cold well?" she asked with a smile, heading toward the bed.

"Nuh uh, never have," Celia answered.

"Muscle movement creates heat."

Although the comment was cryptic, the dancer understood what her friend was saying.

"So we should do something aerobic."

After a long while, Brennan began to tire. "I've had enough."

She sat down on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. A few minutes later Celia joined her and they huddled together for warmth. With nothing else to do, they talked for a little while. Then conversation gave way to silence.

"I think I'm going to take a nap. I'm tired," Brennan said. "It won't help me keep warm, but it will conserve energy."

When they woke up a few hours later, the room was much colder, and Celia shivered almost constantly.

"What are they doing… running the air conditioning?" Celia asked sarcastically.

Literal as usual, Brennan replied, "That's a reasonable assumption, given the current temperature."

"Huh?" the dancer said in confusion.

Brennan pointed at the thermometer over the door. It was now thirty-five degrees.

"What happens if the temperature keeps dropping?" Celia asked.

"Hypothermia, followed by death," Brennan answered succinctly. "Although I doubt they went to the effort of creating such an elaborate setup with the intent of freezing us to death. There must be another reason we're here."

The presence of the cameras gave Brennan a few ideas, but she kept them to herself. None were pleasant and they'd probably find out soon enough.

She sat quietly for a moment, letting the details about what happened trickle through her brain. They'd been taken from behind near the deli after lunch and had been brought to this elaborate, but oddly staged room. Her eyes took in the details of the room once again and then settled on the speaker. Clearly their captors intended to communicate with them. But there was no way for she and Celia to communicate back, was there? Maybe the cameras contained microphones.

'There's only one way to find out,' she thought, before saying loudly, "Excuse me, but it's getting rather cold in here. We would appreciate some warmth."

Celia looked at her as though she was crazy, but a moment later her hypothesis was proved correct when a male voice answered her, "I'd be happy to give you some heat, but you'll have to do something for me in return."

Acting as though this was reasonable, even though she had her doubts, Brennan replied, "Okay. What do you want?"

"Take off your clothes," the male voice demanded.

"What?" Celia shouted in outrage. "It's freezing in here. Taking off my clothes will only make me colder!"

Brennan looked at the other woman and shrugged. "We're not going to do that," she said firmly, knowing that eventually they would have to. But for the moment, she wanted to test the limits.

She got off the bed and checked the carpets. Maybe they could wrap themselves in one and stay warmer for longer. To her disappointment, they were all firmly attached to the floor.

She returned to Celia, climbed on the bed and snuggled up, rubbing her hands up and down Celia's arms and legs trying to warm them with friction. The temperature slowly continued to drop and Brennan's efforts weren't enough to keep her friend warm. She tried to start a conversation, but after a while the other woman lost the ability to reply coherently.

Becoming concerned, Brennan decided to examine the cameras in more depth. A number were recessed in the walls behind small panes of glass. Others were surrounded by strong mesh frames with openings for the lenses. Unfortunately, the cameras were recessed far enough inside their protective covering that she couldn’t reach them, not with her hand.

She ground her teeth in frustration. Whoever had set this up was very through. She wasn't strong enough to break the glass or the mesh frames with her bare hands and she had nothing long enough or strong enough or small enough to reach them. There was no way she'd able to break any of the cameras or their lenses.

"Celia, we have to do what they said," Brennan said. "You're exhibiting the initial signs of hypothermia."

"No," Celia chattered her reply defiantly.

"You'd rather keep your clothes and die?" Brennan asked harshly. "We're getting out of these clothes now."

Brennan began to strip off her own clothes and shuddered when the cold air touched her skin. Then she reached for Celia and began to undress her.

The dancer fought back, but the anthropologist asked, "Do you trust me?"

Celia nodded.

"Then do this for me. Forget about the cameras and everything else. This is about our survival. He says he'll give us heat if we do this. The only thing we can do is test him and see if he's telling the truth. If he isn't then we'll just die a bit sooner," she told her friend.

The other woman must have seen the logic of her argument, because she tried to unbutton her blouse. Her cold fingers made it difficult, but eventually she too stood naked in the room.

The male voice said, "Ah, so you finally decided to believe me. Very nice. You are both very attractive women. Excellent."

But the leer in his voice made their skin crawl; neither doubted that he had an excellent view.

Then he continued, "Now take the clothes and shove them through the flap in the door. You won't be needing them anymore."

Brennan shrugged at Celia and moved to comply. They needed the heat more than they needed the inadequate protection of their clothes. As sshe watched, the thermometer began to show the room temperature rising and Celia's shivering slowly abated.

The idea for this story began when I was reading a so-so kidnapping story and thinking to myself that a lot of kidnapping stories were very similar. The perpetrator was always someone connected to their cases, Booth's past, Brennan's past, or her parents' past. I asked myself what would happen if their kidnapper wasn't one of those things. This story is the answer. I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter. The story is completely written and I will be updating at least once a week.

I have to say that I'm disappointed that no one posted a review. I know that not as many people enjoy angst as fluff, but I thought I'd get at least one or two. Anyhow, thanks to FauxMaven and redrider6612 for their editing. I'll be posting a new chapter every Sunday.

Chapter 2: Ad-lib
"Good morning, ladies," said their captor, waking them from their slumber.

"Huh?" Brennan mumbled, not fully awake. She opened her eyes and after a disoriented moment remembered what had happened. She yawned and then stretched while Celia rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Oh, yes," their captor cooed, "very, very nice."

"You're such a…" Celia paused, looking for the right word, and then finished angrily, "pervert!"

He chuckled. "And don't I know it."

In a business-like tone, he said, "Now ladies, here's how it's going to be. You do what I want, and I'll give you food and warmth and beauty sleep."

"What exactly do you want?" Brennan asked thoughtfully.

"Just two things. First, you must be clean, but you may not take long baths. Second, I want to be entertained. Oh, and don't call each other by your real names. From now on you're Blondie and Red." he replied.

"I'm impressed by your creativity," Brennan flung back sarcastically.

"Now, now," he responded condescendingly, "is that any way to talk to the person who controls whether or not you'll get your next meal?"

The pleasure in his tone made her so angry. Deciding that ignoring him would be better, she said to Celia, "So Blondie, do you want the first shower?"

Celia shook her head and curled back into a ball on the bed, and Brennan headed toward the bathtub. She pulled the shampoo, conditioner and soap out of one of vanity drawers and turned on the water, waiting for it to get warm. She used the toilet while she waited.
Then she got in, pulled the stop to turn on the shower, and moved under the water. As she shampooed her hair, she decided it was somewhat disconcerting to know that her every move was being recorded. Since there was a camera right underneath the showerhead, it was also a very difficult fact to ignore.

When her shower was over, she squeezed as much water out of her hair as she could, dried her hair, and then used the hair dryer to blow most of the water off of her body.

"Your turn, Blondie," she called.

"No thanks," the other woman said.

Brennan walked over to Celia. "You have to do this. I know it's making you uncomfortable; I feel the same way. But if you don't do this we won't have any food."

"Maybe I'd rather not eat, Red," she replied defiantly.

"You don't eat and who knows what happens," Brennan fired back. "He kept his word about the heat last night, and I'm hungry. Even if you don't want to eat, please do it so I can."

"Fine," Celia spat back, angry with her and the whole situation. The anger pulled her out of her prior funk and she was soon soaping her body in the shower, trying desperately to forget the cameras.

A couple of minutes after the water went off, two paper plates were pushed through the flap at the bottoms of the door. Brennan picked them up and took them to "saloon corner" as she was beginning to think of it. Celia joined her.

There were eggs, bacon and toast on the plates. Brennan wasn't particularly fond of these foods, but Celia apparently was. She grabbed a plastic spoon, the only utensil they had been given, and dug in.

'She must not be a morning person,' Brennan thought.

No drinks or cups had accompanied their breakfast, so when she was done, she went to the sink, bent over, awkwardly turned her head and drank straight from the tap. Celia followed her example and then went back and curled up the bed.

"Push the plates back through the flap," commanded their captor.

When Brennan grabbed the plates and pushed them under the door, she reached as far as she could to see if there was anything useful within reach. She pulled her arm back with disappointment and then inspected the door carefully. Their captor was very thorough.

'Oh well,' she thought, 'at least the room is cement, it should keep the heat in pretty well.'

At that moment, a loud fan started nearby. A moment later air began to circulate in their basement. Brennan glanced at the thermometer: seventy-two degrees.

She went to sit next to Celia and attempted to engage her in conversation.

"We're going to have to entertain this guy," she said. "My college professor said I did a lovely monologue of Shakespeare and I'm good at telling stories. I know that you can dance. What other talents do you have?" she asked.

The other woman refused to answer, so Brennan curled up next to her and began to sort through what had happened and what they knew about their captor. He was a pervert and liked to be in control, going to extreme lengths to manipulate the situation to his advantage. He was thorough and smart, a careful planner. A setup like this was expensive, so he might also be rich.

Brennan began to think about her resources. Booth would already have realized that she was missing. They were supposed to meet after lunch. He would already be looking. But there wasn't much evidence for him to find. It was unlikely the alley was monitored by cameras or that there had been any witnesses to their abduction.

There was nothing in the room that she could use to effect an escape. The door couldn't be opened from the inside. They didn't have enough of the right kind of household products to make any kind of explosives. If they'd had hairspray, she could have used it with the hairdryer. She wasn't sure if the lack was deliberate or simply an oversight, but it was aggravating. There might be something unique about something in the room – the wood of the saloon's bar or the paint on the walls, but she had no way of getting it to anybody who would find it useful.

Still, she should try and get as many of those particulates on herself and Celia as possible. Maybe they'd get lucky and one of them would get out somehow. If so, it would help her team find the other one. Speaking of which, she needed to find a way to tell Celia a few things without their captor overhearing.

Brennan shivered. The temperature was dropping rapidly. It was now sixty-five degrees. The room had been designed specifically for this exact use.

She momentarily thought about entertaining their captor, but decided to wait until it got colder. Certainty settled in her gut, she didn't want to have to entertain this guy any more often than she had to. A soft chuckle escaped her as she realized that she was acting on her gut. Booth would be so proud.

A second fan kicked in and started pulling the warm air out of the room faster. Another half an hour passed.

Deciding that she'd waited long enough, she got up, centered herself in the room, and began a dramatic recitation of the famous monologue from Macbeth:
"She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing." (Act V, Scene 5)

"Very nice, Red," their captor said, "but that's not exactly the kind of entertainment I'm looking for."

Brennan thought for a moment and then went to the bar and took out four pieces of fabric. One she draped around her neck; she started juggling with the other three. She wasn't any good with balls or beanbags, but scarves weren't too hard. Once she'd found a rhythm she added the fourth to her pattern. She juggled several different ways, and then when she was done, she gave a deep performer's bow.

She looked toward the speaker, waiting for his response, and noticed that Celia was watching her.

The sound of clapping came from the speaker. "You're very talented. But once again, not what I'm looking for."

"Well, what do you want?" she demanded, having a pretty good idea of what the answer would be.

As expected, he replied, "Oh, I don't care what you do exactly, but it should show off your beautiful body." His voice dropped into a lower register and he continued, "Be seductive. Make me want you."

Brennan began the warm-up she used at her dojo. Hopefully this would meet his criteria and keep her in shape without giving too much away. Then she carefully executed the simplest moves, slowly first and then with increasing speed. It felt weird to do them without her uniform, but she put that aside and concentrated on making them look as stylized as possible. Any time felt as if she overbalanced even a bit, she allowed herself to fall or visibly wobble trying to make herself look as much like a novice as possible.

Panting from the effort of her workout, she completed the last move and then went to the sink for a drink. After a large swallow, she splashed her face with water. Then she collapsed onto one of the soft carpets, still breathing heavily.

The fans switched off.

"A very good beginning, Red," the male voice complimented her.

She pushed away her revulsion at his words and began to review human anatomy systematically, beginning with naming all 206 bones in alphabetical order.

About two hours later the fans came back on, and the temperature began to drop again. When they were sufficiently cold, she said, "Blondie, c'mon, it's your turn."

Leaning over, she whispered in Celia's ear. "Do the simplest dances you know. We need to begin as small as possible, so we can put off the worst as long as possible. "

"No whispering," their captor said harshly.

Celia looked at her with large scared eyes, not wanting to imagine what the worst could be. She stood, walked to the center of the room, and began an elegant dance.

When it was over, he said breathily, "Oh Blondie, your body is exquisite."

Celia practically ran back to the bed and resumed her fetal position. Her dance bought them three hours.

Brennan decided against doing anything else that would reveal her proficiency at martial arts and opted to drape fabrics artistically around her body and pose for the camera.

Two hours later Celia was doing another dance. Another two hours after that, Brennan did one of the tribal dances she knew.

"An unusual choice, Red," commented their captor. "I've never seen anything like it."

The two women took turns, and a variety of dances carried them through the end of the day. Two plates were pushed under the door and they ate hungrily, returning the plates when they were finished.

"If you want us to keep this up, we're going to need some props," Brennan told their captor. However, there was no reply, so she wasn't sure if he heard her.

The two women collapsed tiredly into the odd bed and slept soundly.

very good! PPS! I like this story
~~~~~~Cassie~~~~~~

I'll post the next chapter on Sunday. :-)

AN: I forgot to say thanks to labsquint for her help with the last chapter. For the purposes of the story, I needed there to be no way of escape and labsquint helped me eliminate a possibility I wasn't even aware of: hair dryer and hairspray. As always thanks to redrider6612 and FauxMaven for their fabulous editing skills.

Chapter 3: Ad hoc
The second morning of their captivity began much like the first: a wake up call which included lascivious comments, followed by showers and breakfast. Then the horror began again.

Brennan began the morning "entertainment" with a good workout as she had done the morning before. She stuck with the beginner level stuff, but used different moves.

Celia was not handling the situation as well. She refused to talk, had to be coaxed to shower and eat, and it took more effort to get her to dance in her turn.

For her next turn, Brennan strutted up and down the room, pretending to be a model at a runway show and then a photo shoot.

Around noon, the props Brennan asked for arrived via the door's flap. The small shallow box contained a variety of skimpy lingerie in two sizes, handcuffs, a whip and other similar paraphernalia.

The next time the temperature became too cold to bear, she handed Celia one of the outfits from the box and told her to put it on before dancing. She stared at Brennan with dull eyes for a moment and then complied.

Late in the afternoon, Brennan was out of other ideas and had to resort to pleasuring herself to get the heat they needed.

One time when her hands were particularly cold, she went to the sink to soak them in hot water, but discovered that there was no hot water. Their captor was infuriatingly prepared.

The next day, Celia was coaxed to shower and eat, but she refused to dance or do anything else at all. Using her creativity, the various surfaces in the room, including the bed's odd protrusions and the props she had been given, Brennan kept them warm that day.

By the fourth day, she hadn't figured out how to communicate what she needed to tell Celia and she was getting very worried about the other woman's mental health. In addition, she was running out of ideas.

Frustrated, she yelled, "I don't know what else to do."

The male voice replied calmly, "There are two of you for a reason," and then fell silent.

Brennan raged internally at him, mentally swearing at him in every language she knew. Then she thought further about his comment. Possibly it contained a solution to her communication problem.

The next time she was shivering with cold, she said to Celia. "Would you like a backrub?"

Celia switched from fetal position to lying flat on the bed. Brennan massaged her back and leaned near her ear. Moving sensually to distract their captor, she whispered to Celia, "Look, there are a few things I need to tell you. And it's going to take a while. I need you to do what I say, alright? I'm just trying to save our lives. We're going to have to pretend to be making out in various places around the room. This way if one of us gets away there will be some particulate evidence to help the authorities find the one left behind."

The next time they had to perform for their warmth, Brennan "backed" Celia up against the empty corner and they pretended to make out while Brennan tried to scratch paint off the walls. She could tell by the other woman's body language that she felt extremely uncomfortable, but having a task that might help them eventually revived her somewhat and she managed a creditable performance.

Two hours later, they danced salsa together. Two hours after that, they pretended again on the bar and Celia dug her nails into its surface. Afterward, Brennan offered her another massage, trying to get the dancer accustomed to her touch.

The rest of the day, they alternated the dancing with "making out." Near the end of the day, they had met Brennan's goal of covering themselves with particulates, but their captor had figured out that they had been pretending and was very unhappy.

"You owe me something big or I'm not going to give you any dinner or any heat tonight," he threatened.

Brennan looked at her friend and decided to wait it out. When they didn't respond immediately, both fans came on. Several hours passed and as promised, the temperature dropped rapidly.

It had dropped to almost freezing before Brennan spoke.

"Celia, he really means it," she said. "I think we have to… you know."

The dancer shook her head violently.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," she said, rubbing her hands up and down the other woman's arms. "I… look…. Just go somewhere else in your mind alright? I… I'll take care of the rest."

Brennan swallowed hard. Two days ago, she had known it would probably come to this eventually, but she hated her captor for putting them in this position and herself for what she was about to do.

Then she began to touch the other woman, whispering quietly in her ear. "I'm sorry, so sorry, but we have to live. This man? He's the pervert you called him and more. I suspect he's been selling tapes or a feed of this over the Internet. If he doesn’t kill us or if you get out, go to my team at the Jeffersonian. Ask for Angela. Don't sit on anything or wash your clothes. The evidence is on your body."

She sucked in another breath of cold air, put her emotions in a box, apologized once more, and gently began exploring the other woman's body, first with her fingers and then with her tongue. At some point, Celia's body responded, betraying her mental distaste and revealing that she had indeed listened to Brennan's advice.

The moment it was over, the dancer ran to the toilet and threw up. Then she grabbed all the fabric she could find and tossed it into the empty corner. She made a nest as best as she could and then sat there, rocking back and forth silently.

Heat started to flow into the room, but Brennan, crying silently on the bed, didn't notice. Eventually both women slept, but neither slept well. She had nightmares from her past and Celia dreamed she was running away from a large monster with soft hands.

Brennan woke the next day with a foul taste in her mouth. She was leaning against something warm and somewhat hard. Celia was definitely softer.

At the thought of Celia, Brennan sat up and looked toward the corner where she had last seen her friend. It was empty. Desperately she looked at the person on the bed with her. The sight of a naked Seeley Booth jolted her completely awake.

'What was her FBI partner doing here? And where was Celia?' she wondered.

"Where's Blondie?" she demanded out loud.

"Don't worry," her captor said soothingly. "She wasn't a fit playmate anymore, so I brought you a new one. Do you like him?"

"What about Blondie?" she repeated her demand.

"Don't worry, I promise I won't hurt her," he said. "Well, as long as you cooperate, I won't hurt her," he amended his prior statement and followed it with a nasty laugh.

Brennan was beginning to think he was evil incarnate. Realizing there was nothing she could do to help Celia now, she asked, "So what's his name?"

"Muscles," came the sardonic reply.

"That's the best you can do?" she mocked, no longer able to contain the emotions of the past few days.

"I didn't think you'd like 'pretty boy' or 'dead weight,'" he snapped back.

"You… you're such a…" Brennan began, but their captor interrupted her, "Tut, tut. Watch your language, Red. Now, Muscles should wake up sometime in the next hour or so."

"Why him?" she asked hoping he would satisfy her curiosity.

"Because he showed up the most often in your call logs," answered the male voice.

Her hope soared. If he had turned her cell phone on or better yet, made a call from it, it would traceable. However, he was disturbingly competent, so maybe she shouldn't get her hopes up.

Wanting to wash the nasty flavor from her mouth, she got up and took a swig from the tap. 'He used a gas to make me unconscious,' she realized. She glanced at the clock; it was 11 AM. She never slept that late. It must have been whatever drug they'd used put her out when they switched Booth for Celia.

As she returned to the bed, Brennan noted that the place had also been cleaned up. The ring that had begun to show in the tub was gone. The crumbs on the floor near the bar were gone, and the bed now sported a purple sheet instead of the white one. She climbed into the bed and curled up next to Booth, watching him for signs of waking.

She wasn't sure if she should be glad that he was the one held captive with her or not. Certain aspects of being here would probably be easier with him than with someone else. But if he was here, it meant he wasn't out looking for her.

Her gaze wandered over his attractive body and involuntarily her hand moved toward his chest. She pulled her arm back to her side. She shouldn't… at least not until he was awake. Her mind began to replay the last time she'd touched someone, specifically Celia. With effort, she pushed the image away and concentrated on admiring his physique.

The moment he was awake enough to recognize her, her hand covered his mouth to prevent him from saying her name.

"I'm Red and you're Muscles," she told him with a grimace. Calling him Muscles was definitely worse than being called Red.

She removed her hand from his mouth and he said, "What?"

"Apparently, we're not supposed to use real names. So I'm Red and you're Muscles. Got it, Muscles?" she answered, suppressing another grimace.

"Are you okay?" he asked, noticing her expression.

"As well as can be expected given the circumstances," she replied, gesturing with her head to the rest of the room.

But Booth was more interested in how she was doing, so he examined her face carefully and couldn't help but noticing her nakedness. Suddenly his perusal turned from making sure she was okay to checking out her body.

Brennan blushed at his frank appreciation. They had fooled around some, but had yet to actually make love. Boldly she looked him over in a similar way and then quirked a smile at him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a look.

"Check out your new digs, Muscles," she suggested.

He carefully examined the room and then turned back to her with a question in his eyes. She nodded once, confirming his supposition.

"Our host," she emphasized the word 'host' with a sarcastic tone in her voice, "has a few rules. Besides the stupid names, we are to stay clean and to entertain him. In return, he gives us food and heat."

At that moment, plates were pushed under the door.

"Good morning, Red. Muscles. Or should I say 'Good Afternoon'?" said their captor. "I hope you slept well."

Brennan stood and retrieved their lunch from the floor, took it over to the bar, and the two sat down to eat.

He glanced down at his plate. "Is it safe?" he asked.

"Hasn't hurt me yet," she replied.

He started to speak again, but she said, "Save it. We'll have plenty of time to talk later. There isn't exactly a lot to do in here."

AN: Lately, I haven't been very interested in ready angsty stories (partly because of the holiday season). Given the lack of reviews, I presume everyone either feels like me or is too busy to have time to read, so I'm going to hold off posting the next chapter of this story until January. I'll be posting a nice fluffy one-shot in between though and I hope you'll enjoy that.

I generally avoid fluff, and I'm a sucker for angst, drama, and suspense. I like this story.

Thanks. I like a balance of fluff/angst (partly depends on my mood). Once I had the idea for this in my head, I couldn't get it out until I had it on paper. There's plenty of angst to come; I hope I won't let you down.

:-)

This is the first time I've posted on this board so I hope it ends up in the right place. The FF about B&B being kidnapped has my attention. Sorry you won't post again 'til Jan. I usually don't start reading a story until it's done. I thought the icon next to your story meant it was complete. If you can tell me where to find the prequel to this, I'd appreciate it. Thanks & happy holidays.

The other story, Wounded and Scarred, is also on this board: [Only admins are allowed to see this link] The story is complete, just not completely posted. Since I indicated I was going to wait on the posting I have found that several of the next chapters need to be revised, and I've been working on that.

To Saraluvzbonz: Can't wait 'til you post all of Wounded and Scarred and the rest of Voyeur. I'll have a great long read (just like I like...dragging out chapters over weeks or months frustrates me to the point of not caring about the story anymore) when you do. I for one look for action/adventure and angst with just a bit of romance, so what I've read of yours so far is just my cup of tea!

All of Wounded and Scarred is posted. It was finished last year around this time. W&S is mostly fluff. Voyeur is my second foray into really angsty stories. I've got some others I'm working on.

Hi. I'm new and I absolutely love this story. It's great and I can't wait for more in January.

PPS!!!
~~~~~Cassie~~~~~~

I'm working on the next chapter or two. Although I wrote the whole story before I started posting, I got some really good feedback about it and I felt that some minor revisions were in order... I'm trying to get the changed back through the editing processes, but with it being the holidays, it's taking a little longer.

wow this is awesome. i was soo scared for brennan and celia..then i realised that it was a fic