Disclaimer: I do not own or lay claim to anything even tenuously associated with Bones; it belongs to various individuals and corporations who are considerably more talented and well-off than myself. I am only playing with the aforesaid characters, situations, settings, etc. for my own amusement and am making no profit whatsoever from this (other than the bettering of my writing skills and my own amusement). No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: This missing scene from Aliens in a Spaceship has been brewing in my head for a while, as 2x09 is one of my favorite Bones episodes. There are also references in here to The Woman in the Garden and Mayhem on a Cross, so if you haven't seen all of those episodes, this may not make very much sense.
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"The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness." – Vladimir Nabokov
"Don't curse the darkness; light a candle." – Variation of a Chinese Proverb
The dark presses in from all sides, crushing her.
Suddenly she is fifteen again and locked in the trunk, with little air and even less hope. Have they forgotten her?
Deep breath. Don't panic. Don't waste air.
This is nothing like then.
She has not done anything wrong this time. This has happened because she was doing something right. There was no warning this time, though, and that makes it harder.
With a shaking hand, she turns on a light in the car. Hodgins is still unconscious in the backseat. The last time she checked, she could still discern a heartbeat.
Her hands are faintly sticky from his blood. Water only does so much to cleanse the body (or the metaphorical soul) of the blood of another human being. Even when it's done with the best of intentions.
Out the car windows there is nothing but a sea of blackness, of dirt. She is drowning in it. If she opens a window, it will rush back in to fill the car; a simple matter of displacement. Nature abhors a vacuum. And although this is not a vacuum, the same basic principle applies.
The air in her lungs feels distinctly thin, but she has a feeling that that has less to do with the quantity of air remaining than it does with her current emotional state.
The light in the car does little to dispel the feeling of impending claustrophobia, however.
It is two years ago, and she is in a windowless cell in El Salvador. The only things that feel real are the packed dirt floor beneath her feet and the stinging pain in the intercostal spaces of her ribs. And she is alone, so terribly alone. It is almost a relief each time the cop comes in to taunt her. Each threat, each smack, reminds her that she is still alive, that there is more to the world than this dank cell. Has anyone realized that she's missing yet? The dark is swallowing her whole and she just doesn't have the energy to fight it.
But no, she is not there either. This is nothing like last time. She is in a car (though not in the trunk), buried God knows how far underground.
Breathe. In… and out.
Her mind wanders, forming fanciful analogies in what she supposes is its attempt to maintain perspective.
It is as though she is an astronaut in space looking out into the depths of the universe. The distance separating her from the life that she has known, from the people that she cares about is unfathomable, and she feels lonely.
Yet she is not entirely alone, something for which she is selfishly grateful.
Deep breath.
No, this is nothing like those other times.
She is no victim. She has made something of herself; she is a doctor, world-renowned for her work. This time she will not choke. She is no longer that frightened little girl, unable to help herself. She is not even that woman of two years ago, placed in a situation with no tools at her disposal.
Her brain begins whirring as she tries to brainstorm ways out of this. Some time later (minutes? hours?) it clicks and she knows what she can do.
Her brow furrows as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, preparing to test her latest theory.
She knows that her team is working to find her, that they won't give up. He won't give up. She hasn't been forgotten.
It is different this time.
And knowing that, she feels almost at peace.
She gets to work.