It was funny how he hadn't even wanted to work at the Jeffersonian in the first place. He had spent the first few weeks terrified some high level official would swoop in and blow his cover of Jack Hodgins, Resident Bug and Slime Expert Extraordinaire.
It was a bad time in his life he supposed looking back. Being angry all the time at everything just wasn't how he wanted to live life. Forced to work in a place he despised because it was just another reminder of his wealthy life that while had its perks came with too many strings attached. He hated the nagging suspicion that h was only hired because of his name, which of course was the truth. Sure he was brilliant to have gotten the job on his own, but he could have had an IQ of 12, the Jeffersonian would have taken one look at his last name and given him some sort of clerical job.
That's why he hated Zach at first. Zach was brilliant and for all his other faults, he was confident in that. Jack never had that confidence. Sure he was brilliant and had always dated smoking hot girls with his quick charm, but in reality he never knew if people were handing him things because he had money.
Then she joined. It wasn't love at first sight. Sure, Jack was an over the top romantic who planned first dates on swings and spelled out be my love with glowing sushi, but love at first sight was a concept that his scientific brain would not accept.
What it could accept is that she was the hottest woman he had ever laid eyes on.
So maybe his fascination with this creature was borderline weird at first. (He must have said how happy he was she was working there at least 15 times that first day) Soon though he let his quick wit go to work, planning to at least intrigue her with his humor. Most girls giggled at his jokes and lapped up the attention. Angela, though…
Angela was never what he expected. She matched his witty repartee word for word and called him out when he sounded like an idiot. She was flirtatious, but never unfairly lead him on. He didn't know what to make of a woman like her who both made him feel like he was so in over his head, but craving every second of this confounding mystery.
And what could he say? He was a romantic through and through when it came down to it. For all his playboy tendencies, (you date one Victoria's Secret model….) he knew when he was caught and was happy enough to be caught. His dramatic presentation of the Romeo and Juliet rose to Angela was basically the definition of their relationship. She would expect him to be playfully tease her and when she least expected it, he would spring some form of grand romantic gesture on her.
And the sex. Oh god, once they started, it seemed like the just couldn't stop.
All in all it was the greatest year of his life. He had no doubt that marrying her in that chapel would have been the greatest thing that could have ever happened to him. Minus the whole, might have gone to jail for polygamy thing.
It was over though. It was like a dream that never happened some days. He may have just fallen asleep and dreamt her, because when he now awoke alone in his empty bed, arm slung across where her body used to lie, he became that man again. The one who hated the world and everybody in it because he wasn't sure who he was.
She started dating and that hurt. He wasn't going to lie and say that it didn't, because despite his brave face and his utter denial, he was in pain every time he saw her with someone who wasn't him, because then his memories became even more dreamlike.
He attempted to date. He even found it easier than he would have thought. Once he started he felt himself slipping into his old persona of charming playboy. It was different now though. Before he would have said that the playboy was who he was and he was just angry some of the time. Now though attempting to flirt with anyone who's eyes weren't the right shade of chocolate, or who's hair didn't have the exact bounce, or who just giggled when he said something corny as opposed to rolling their eyes, it just made him feel hollow.
He sometimes thought about what if he had never worked at the Jeffersonian. What if he had gone to a lesser facility just so he could establish his independence from his money? What if he never had to deal with a free spirited artist who ensnared his heart and hadn't been able to return all the pieces to him?
He supposed that's why he kept the tattoo. It was something of her he could keep. She had his heart and he had her face etched into his arm. She may not have wanted it there, but he figured until she returned what she stole from him turnabout was fair play.
Because if he was being one hundred percent honest with himself, not allowing any other opinions besides the truth to have a voice, the fact of the matter was that despite the pain he felt when he woke up, going to sleep to dream of her was the best part of his day.
So sometimes he did wonder what it would be like to never have worked at the Jeffersonian. What it would have been like to have his heart in his possession and whole. To have never met the most heartbreakingly amazing woman on Earth. To have never dreamt such a bittersweet dream.
And he decides it was worth it.