Nope, Bones still isn't mine. I just write this stuff for fun. This is just a little one shot I've had kicking around in my brain for a bit. I have a lot of Hodgins love. He might be my nerdy guy crush. I like nerdy guys with heart, and that's Hodgins. So here is what I think Hodgins thinks.
Proof
I'm the Bug and Slime guy.
The people here, we are all observers. We notice things. Then we take those things and break them down into science. I'm the Bug and Slime guy. Gimme particulates and I'll tell you what they are.
Angela, she'd say she's our artist. She can tell you what someone used to look like. Or how a gash got in a skull. She's come a long way from drawing "death masks." You didn't hear it from me, but she falls more and more on the side of science every day. It's a beautiful blend of art and science, but it's science just the same.
Cam's the pathologist and the boss. She's bad ass with a soft heart. Just, don't tell her I said so. She's tough: tough boss, tough mom, tough lady. It's a front. If it wasn't most of us would be long gone. She'd never put up with us. But despite her science and rationale, the ability to make those intuitive leaps tells me that she's good with people, and not just the dead ones.
The interns are a weird blend. Replacements for someone else. They are good kids, good with science, eager to learn and please. And I like them alright, some way more than others, but they aren't part of "us." They are like the scuba divers in the big tanks at the aquarium. They're in here with us, but they don't totally belong.
That leaves just two more.
Booth. One could argue he's a scuba diver too. He's here all the time, but is he one of us?
You bet your ass he is. We're his people. At least as far as the FBI goes. Perotta and the rest can kiss my conspiracy theorist butt. And he knows. He's learned. When you can't figure it out, science is the only way to get the answers. We've trained him well. He uses his gut and then gets the science from us to prove it. I'd say we like him and he, begrudgingly, likes us.
And then there is the other half of Booth. She would kill me if she heard me say that. Dr. Brennan, our resident forensic anthropologist. Genius extraordinaire. Knows a lot about science and rationale, can see a story in a skeleton that most people can't see even after she spells it out. She says science is ALWAYS the answer. With her, logic always wins and Booth's gut instincts are a mystery to her. You cannot think with your gut, according to Dr. B.
But I know things the others don't know. I've seen things the others haven't seen. Angela may believe that Booth and Dr. B belong together, and she's right, but even she doesn't have all the info.
I was right there, right there, when he left that hospital bed to go rescue her from Kenton. That stupid doctor tried to argue, telling him he wasn't ready. I'm telling you he would have gone out the window if he'd had to, but he was going to find her. I saw his face when he spotted her keys on the floor. I saw that look in his eyes when he shot that guy without a millisecond of hesitation. That look that said "Nobody hurts her." It was intense and angry and then it was over and he was lifting her, reassuring her, being gentle and kind, ignoring his own pain. You don't do that for someone who is "just a partner." It was overwhelming to watch. I think everyone in the room wished they had someone who watched over them like that. Once he had her off that hook, once she had her arms around him and he was holding her, telling her it was over, I felt like an intruder at an intimate moment.
That was when I had a clue that he at least cared greatly for her. She was the one I wasn't certain about.
Until we were buried alive.
I confessed my love for Angela. She didn't respond in any way that made me think there was anyone like that for her. But only I know who she wrote her final note to.
It was Booth.
Of course it was. Who else would it be? Not her brother or her father. Not even Angela, her best friend.
There was that word again. "Partner."
What a load of crap. You don't write your goodbye from this earth to your partner. You write to the person you love the most in this world. Mine was to Angela. Hers was to Booth.
Unless your partner and the person you love most in this world are the same.
Which I know for her, they are.
She loves him.
And he loves her.
It's been growing, evolving, changing for years. But it's been there since early on and I've been paying attention.
I was on the receiving end of her anger when she figured out that I had stolen the Gravedigger evidence. As far as she was concerned, I was the reason Booth was in danger. I've only seen eyes that angry once before and that was when Booth was looking at Kenton. People think she's a cold fish? No way, man. I know what I saw behind those baby blues. Cold fish don't get that way.
Yeah, I know what no one else knows. What I think they don't even know themselves.
Those two belong together.
I may be the Bug and Slime guy, The King of the Lab, but I'm no slouch in the true love department, either. I'm the guy who proposed 4 times to the same girl, because I KNEW she was the one. I'm the guy who bought $3000 perfume. I'm the guy who told my girl "I'm your guy" when she thought she was pregnant with someone else's baby,
I believe in fate and destiny. I believe in true love. It's not science. Dr. Brennan would tell me that it's absurd to believe in such things. There is no proof at all that true love exists. She's wrong.
I have Angela. I won that round of true love.
And I've seen them in action, together as a unit even when they are apart, doing everything they can for one another. He would die for her. I have no doubt she would do the same for him.
I have all the proof I need.
I just have to wonder how much longer it will take them to see it too.
~End~
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