Just a little Hodgins/Angela story I dreamed up. Mostly Angela's pov.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If you sue me, you won't get much, and I'll cry.
Sweet Surrender.
Angela entered the house, shutting the door behind her with a little more force than was really necessary. She threw her keys onto the side table, dropping her purse beside them, and stormed into the next room.
She paced for awhile. Tension was eating at her. The day had been a nightmare. She wanted to remove all memories of it from her mind, but in that instance it was impossible.
As she paced, she thought she would go mad. She felt like she was still there, in the lab, staring down at the bones of yet another murdered child. The smell of the place, the sounds, everything so mechanical and unfeeling. Today, she'd realised that she was used to it. She hated the thought, that death had become so commonplace, so clinical for her. Everything had gone downhill since then.
She needed a distraction. She decided maybe a bath would help her relax; get her back to a place she was comfortable in. She wanted more than anything to find her comfort zone.
She headed purposefully towards the bathroom, thinking of all the things she'd need. Candles, music. Maybe a glass of wine.
She started to run the water, taking a moment to make sure the temperature was right before moving onto her next task. What scent did she want?
Their victim had liked vanilla. Her mother had told them that. It was a fairly pointless detail, irrelevant to the case, but to that women the smell of vanilla would forever bring back memories of her lost little girl.
Angela shook her head, tears in her eyes. She was trying to forget about today, yet the memories refused to leave. She grabbed the bottles closest to her and poured their contents into the running water, no longer caring what they were. They were getting close to empty. She made a note to buy more next time she was out shopping, then became frustrated. She was thinking too much. She didn't want to be thinking.
She glanced at her collection of candles, thinking that their gentle flame would be soothing. As she reached for one, the smell of fire surrounded her, unbidden.
What kind of person would set a little girl alight?
With a small sob she pulled away from the candles. She wanted nothing to do with them that night.
Suddenly feeling anxious again, she grabbed her hairbrush and worked on pulling her hair back from her face and neck. She wanted it tied up so it wouldn't get wet. She didn't want to have to dry it later; it was too tedious a task.
Working on her tangles, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, focussing intently on her own hair so she wouldn't see the few remaining strands that had lingered on the victims head. She didn't want to remember the way she'd gazed at it, trying to figure out what length and style to give the girl in her drawing.
She needed a drink. Wine would help her relax. The instant she thought that, Brennan's voice appeared in her head, telling her that even though alcohol may make a person feel relaxed, it actually prevented them from getting the kind of deep sleep that was necessary for a person's wellbeing.
Brennan really was a difficult friend to have sometimes.
Instead of ignoring her like she usually would when it came to alcohol, Angela heeded her advice. She couldn't risk not being able to sleep. She was counting on forgetting everything in her dreams.
Her bath was ready for her now. She sighed, taking a moment to hope that it would do to her mind what she wanted it to. She closed the bathroom door, undressed, and climbed into the sudsy water.
She sat for a moment, waiting for the warm water to start playing its tricks on her senses. As she slowly started to unwind, she lay back, feeling the water lap over her. She felt the difference immediately.
She concentrated on the steady sound of her breathing. In that quiet room, it was all she could hear. She was glad now that she'd decided against music. No melody could ever be as soothing as that empty nothingness. Gradually, the sound of her heart beating took over as the mood music of the room. She was sure it had never been that loud before. She could feel it in her chest, against her ribs, surrounding her. Looking down at the water she was sure she could see it pumping. At first it alarmed her. The feeling passed quickly. It was hard to worry about anything there.
She gradually realised that her breathing had slowed. It almost took an effort to draw each breath into her lungs. Although she didn't want to do anything that required such an effort, she performed the task. In, out. Repeatedly. The warm air entered her lungs, bringing with it a slight scent of lavender. Her upper body rose in the water with each inhale, sank with each exhale. She'd never felt so comfortable in her life.
Closing her eyes, she slid further under the water. Her hair was falling out of its bun, and she didn't care. She couldn't believe she'd actually worried about it getting wet in the first place.
Her whole body felt numb. She vaguely thought of moving her toes, just to make sure they were still there. She decided against it. She never wanted to move again. Why give up that total bliss? She'd stay there, in that warmth and comfort, forever. It didn't occur to her to that the water would eventually grow cold, her neck would start to cramp, and she'd grow hungry and thirsty. In that state, it was so easy to believe that life would stay that uncomplicated for eternity.
She didn't think she could move anyway. Her limbs were no longer a part of her. Her legs would never support her weight if she tried to stand. Her arms could never pull her out of the tub. It was the best feeling in the world.
She opened her eyes slightly. Everything was hazy. The colours were somehow brightened and dulled at the same time, and the edges of everything blurred together. Later, she'd draw that moment. She'd capture that feeling of intense serenity, and she'd hang it on her wall at work so that every time a case became too much, she could look at it and remember what bliss was.
She tried to plan the picture in her mind, but it was hard to think. She wished she'd brought her sketch pad in with her. She didn't want the picture to slip away before she could capture it. Then she chuckled. It would never work with all the water. Anyway, that time was for relaxing. Everything else could wait.
She closed her eyes again, and sighed. She thought she heard the door open, a shuffle off to the side as someone else entered the room. She knew who it was. She kept her eyes closed. After a moment, she felt a hand brushing her hair back from her damp face, a soft kiss against her brow. She smiled and leaned into the figure. The hand remained on her face, the thumb gently stroking her cheek. She allowed herself to slip further into the water, to relax even more. She didn't have to worry about sinking too far under the water. He was there now to pull her out.
She felt safe. Everything was perfect.
Jack knelt beside the bathtub, watching the figure within it. She seemed so relaxed. It was hard to believe that was possible after the day they'd both faced. He watched her without moving. It was hypnotic.
Time passed, though he didn't notice. He had no idea how long he sat staring at the woman in front of him. He felt as though he could stay there forever. He wished more than anything he could freeze that moment.
He stroked her cheek, revelling in the soft skin. She was so perfect. He felt so lucky that he could get to come home to her every day.
He noticed that her head seemed in an awkward position against the edge of the tub, and he moved his hand to support her neck. In doing so, he realised how cool the water had become, and with that simple fact the magic was broken. He came out of his trance, lifting her a little and pulling her towards him for warmth.
She was barely awake now. Not wanting to force her to leave this state of complete relaxation just yet, he reached for a towel, before lifting her out of the bath, carrying her into the bedroom. He lay her down on the bed and gently dried her off. She never moved once.
He covered her over with the blankets before releasing her hair from its bonds. Combing it out with his fingers, he let it splay over the pillow.
He considered leaving her to sleep. He thought of returning the towel to the bathroom, maybe cleaning up himself before joining her. As he stared at her, he once again felt a trance overcome him. He didn't want to leave her.
Kicking off his shoes, he lay down on the bed beside her. He reached out to hold her, and she instinctively curled into his embrace. He breathed in her scent, the same heady smell that had filled the bathroom, coming from whatever she'd added to the water. He watched her chest rise and fall steadily, and he imagined he could hear her heart beating. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to relax. Before long, sleep overtook him.
The End.
Thoughts, anyone?