A/N: Well, this is just an idea that I have had rolling around in my head. Review if you like!
Disclaimer: Bones is not mine. Please, don't sue.
-CHAPTER 1-
A thick layer of dirt smeared Brennan's face. The air was stale and musty, like that of a cellar. Her clothes were torn and tattered. She had a throbbing, merciless pain in her right foot, and no matter how hard she tried, lifting her left arm was just impossible.
She didn't want to open her eyes. She wondered if she could even do that; perhaps the grime had somehow managed to seal them shut. So with her good arm, she felt around her dismal surroundings. Brennan scooped up a handful of dusty pebbles and slowly sprinkled the contents back on the ground. She was definitely not in the lab. No, more than likely she was underground or outside in a cave.
Perhaps it's all a dream, she told herself unconvincingly. Yet she knew that she was merely trying without success to comfort herself. Brennan was too strong-minded to dream about something as ludicrous as this. Dreams were the mind's way of sorting out thoughts; even if she did dream, Brennan could never remember them. There were too many other things dwelling in her brain to pay any mind to dreams.
With the good hand, she swiped the excess filth off her eyes. Slowly, she opened each eye, left before right. It was dark to say the least. Her suspicions were confirmed: she was indeed underground. This was by no means any dream. This was real…again.
Brennan tried to hoist herself up on her knees. The floor wasn't all dirt and stones and pebbles, rather it seemed to be carpeted with gray, coarse threads. Somehow, a great deal of dust and dirt seeped through. Seeped through what? she thought. The four walls were straight at ninety degrees, indicating she was in a windowless cell.
Suddenly, her eyes caught something else. The outline of a grayish black figure was undoubtedly resting in a lump just four or five feet away from Brennan. Then it hit her, and it hit her hard: the Gravedigger. It was probably Hodgins.
She racked her brain for a clue, an inkling, anything that would remind her of last night's events. She came up dry. Wasn't that how it was before with the Gravedigger? She couldn't remember a thing. Maybe if she woke up Hodgins…
She crawled slowly and painfully, pausing after every movement of a muscle, to where Hodgins was sprawled out. He was breathing, which was a good sign. Maybe he wasn't as injured as Brennan.
"Jack," she whispered. "Jack! Wake up, Jack! It's Temperance."
The lump stirred, emitting a soft, agonizing groan while doing so. Hodgins groggily brought himself upward. "Where the hell am I?"
Brennan froze over with fear and understanding. That was NOT Hodgins's voice. It was more…masculine than Hodgins's. Oh, Lord, it was Booth's voice that she heard. How the hell had he managed to steal both Brennan and Booth?
It was silly, she knew, but she had always thought of Booth as invulnerable. He was all muscle and brawn. How could the Gravedigger possibly get a hold of him, too? As far as she knew, he didn't have any weaknesses. She'd never let him on to any of this, though; if his ego got any larger, he'd surely pop. Still, Booth just didn't seem like the kind of man who had a soft spot.
"Seeley?" She shook his shoulder, trying to make him gain consciousness. "Booth, is that you?"
Booth seemed to grunt and flutter his eyes open. It took him a minute or so to adjust to the pitch black lighting. "Bones, is that you? Where the hell are we?"
Brennan sighed relief. He was thinking. Better yet, he was forming words. That meant that both of them were healthy. Well, maybe not healthy, exactly, but at least they were both functioning satisfactorily.
"Listen, Booth," she said in grave seriousness. She only needed to say one word. "Gravedigger."
Though she couldn't see a thing, she was fairly confident that Booth was frowning. Indistinctively, she reached out and closed her hand over his. It comforted her. She was reminded that she was not alone in this. She had Booth.
"How long have we been down here?" Booth asked calmly.
Brennan was secretly happy that he didn't flinch or pull away. "I'm not certain. I remember Angela, babbling on about some party, and Hodgins, I think. He was…beside Angela or Zach. I don't remember which one. And then I woke up about ten minutes ago. I suppose all of that is irrelevant, though."
Without much warning, Booth let out a shrill cry of pain.
Brennan's heart skipped a beat. "Seeley! Seeley, are you alright? What happened?" she persisted, tightening her grip over his hand.
He struggled to get out his words, "I…It's my," he paused, sharply taking in a breath, "leg, I think. Just a cut, is all. Don't worry 'bout it, Bones."
Brennan creased her forehead in thought. This time, she was going to catch and personally kill the son of a bitch that did this to Booth. Oh, and herself. She tried to keep her thoughts rational.
'Okay, so Booth and I are buried in a box with four, equally sized walls. Assuming that we've been here for two or three hours, we've got roughly twenty left.'
"We've probably got twenty hours maximum left, Booth," she said dejectedly.
Booth nodded. There was silence for the next few moments. Neither of them really realized that the other wasn't speaking. Both of them were contemplating the formidable situation at hand.
Booth was lost in his thoughts of Parker. He had managed to convince himself that he was going to die. He had been through plenty worse in his times as a sniper and had come out alive. This time was different, though. He had seen first hand what the Gravedigger was capable of doing. He almost took Bones's life, and now he was about to do the same thing again, only this time, he was along for the ride. What would Parker do without a father? He had Drew, of course, and Rebecca.
Booth grimaced at the thought. And a lot of help that bastard is.
Brennan's mind was wrapped around her Mother. She still didn't believe in heaven, or even hell for that matter, but Booth had always insisted that somewhere, somehow, Christine Brennan was watching over her. And she had done a pretty thorough job of convincing herself that it just wasn't possible. Now that she was this close to death, though, it solaced her to think about her Mother. Maybe, just maybe, she'd see her again.
Brennan grimaced at the thought. And a lot of help thinking about the mother who abandoned you is.
"Twenty hours, huh?" Booth said gently.
"Yes," she said stiffly.
They only had twenty hours and thirty two minutes to live.