"Did you know that hearts travel by night?" Hodgins says.
Booth is sitting next to him at the scorer's table. They're drinking cheap beer at a bowling alley in Friendship Heights, except the cheap beer is actually overpriced because after all, they are in D.C., and everything in D.C. is expensive. A man in the bowling lane to their left throws a strike and his girlfriend runs up into his arms, cheering, her face flush a deep rose with excitement and alcohol.
Another case is over. A human rights lawyer found dead in the house of his old college friends who drugged and killed him after a sex game gone wrong, the lawyer an unwilling participant. When three matching alibis turned out to match too much, three matching murders went to jail, leaving a grieving wife left with nothing but bone and cartilage, a house now too quiet without her husband of just one year, her, alone somewhere in Baltimore with justice, but no one to come home to.
Booth smears his thumb across the frosted glass of his beer as he watches Bones explains to Sweets that since the last time they went bowling she's done some study on speed and form, which should vastly improve her game. He cannot help but smile, and he doesn't care if anyone notices, because he knows they saw it long before he knew himself. Not looking away from his partner, he says, "What are you talking about, Hodgins?"
"Hearts intended for transplant, my friend," Hodgins says, "human hearts. They are delivered by night from the donor to the recipient. Did you know I used to drive organs from hospital to hospital? It was only six months, but in the end I delivered five hearts, seven kidneys, and three sets of corneas. There might have been some bone marrow here and there, too, maybe a skin graft or three."
"I thought you were rich."
"Was and still am. Disgustingly so. Doesn't mean I can't hold down an honest job. Doesn't mean I don't look for work with a purpose."
"Why'd you stop then?"
"Got a job at the Jeffersonian. End of story." He says this, eyes all the while on Angela who is joking around with Cam. Hodgins takes a huge gulp of beer, foam sticking to his beard. He wipes it away with his sleeve.
Booth watches his Adam's apple bob, freeze, bob again, like a breath got caught suddenly got dislodged. Angela turns around and looks at them, smiling. She tilts her head and waves at them. Hodgins throws back his beer and slams the glass down on the table. He breathes out a woo and wipes droplets of lager off of his beard.
"You know Wendall and Angela broke up, right?"
Booth nods and reaches over for the pitcher, fills it up. The foamy head runs over and spills onto the table, but nobody cares.
"Thanks, man. Cheers." He holds up his glass and clinks it against Booth's. The smile on his face doesn't reach his eyes.
"What was it like, delivering hearts?"
A genuine smile reaches all corners and creases in his face. "You never got to see the actual patients or families for the most part, but when you arrived and the doctors said that the patient was still alive? You could feel the thrum of energy in the hospital, you could feel all the good vibes, and then you'd leave, knowing that you did something good that day."
"You gave someone a second chance."
"It's a good feeling. Everyone deserves a second chance, but only 1 in 4 people waiting for a transplant will get one. It doesn't happen for everyone. Sometimes the hearts don't even make it to the person who needs it. Sometimes it just dies, sometimes, you just run out time or you don't even know why, but it doesn't make it."
"We're talking in metaphor now, aren't we?"
Hodgins doesn't answer.
On his shoulder Booth feels a hand, looks up to see Bones grinning at him. "You're my partner, right?" He gapes at her, and he can feel his face blossom into an expression stupid with love. He couldn't hide it even if he tried. But he has to try. He makes a note to send Catherine a text, to give her a call, to make dinner plans for this weekend or Monday or something.
"Of course I am."
"Well, get up there and bowl, Booth! It's your turn!" She pulls him by his armpits, laughing. The color rushes to her cheeks, and she is so beautiful, so full of everything wonderful in a woman that he never knew he'd wanted until he met her. He wants to kiss her, but she trusts a bowling ball into his arms and he feels the weight in his arms and lets it ground him.
"Bones, this ball is for a girl." He holds it up with his forefinger. "See? Lighter than light. I need a man's ball."
"I apologize for emasculating you, then, Booth. That was not my intention."
"Emascu—what?" She bites her lip as though she knows she's said something wrong, and he says instead, "Apology accepted, Bones."
Cam walks over, hands on hips. "Holding up the game, Seeley! Chop chop! I run an efficient lab and I roll a mean game, which, incidentally, should also be run efficiently, so scoot! " Her attention turns to Hodgins. "And Dr. Hodgins? You are my partner, so you best warm up your best thumb and forefinger and prepare to throw some strikes!"
"Yes, ma'am!" he says, but he takes another swill of his beer and stays in his seat.
Bones leans over and stage whispers, "Win one for the Kipper!"
"That's 'Gipper,' Bones, but close."
"I am attempting to incorporate more popular phrases into my everyday speech. I find that people respond well to pop culture references. It breeds familiarity, which puts people at ease, though I am aware of the phrase that says it breeds contempt, but so far I haven't found that to be the case."
"Well, I approve of it. It's cute."
When he does find a ball the proper weight, Booth rolls a strike, and bows to Bones who claps with approval.
"Your athletic prowess never ceases to impress me, Booth." There's a curious look on her face, and he reaches out and touches her elbow. He doesn't know what to say when she leans into him slightly, but maybe it's one of those moments where words do no justice and only complicates something that's perfect just as it is. It's as though they're back again to where they were, before he let her know how he felt, before she pushed him away and told him no.
Angela leads her away a second later, though, and all Booth can hear is Bones asking, "I really don't need to use the bathroom, Ange, but I'll accompany you since I understand the anthropological reasoning why women traveling in packs to . . ."
At the table Hodgins has replaced the cheap beer with frosty bottles of a local microbrew much more palatable to both their tastes.
"Good man," Booth says, taking the proffered bottle taking a swig of the lager. Plopping down again on his seat, he asks Hodgins to tell him more about organ transplants because he hasn't forgotten their conversation from before, he hasn't forgotten that sometimes a guy's just gotta talk to another guy about something, even if it's not really the thing he wants to talk about.
"What do you want to know? That once outside the donor a heart is only viable for another 5 hours, though if packed in ice it can last almost 72 hours?"
"Sure. What else?"
"You don't have to humor me, you know."
"Who says I am?" Booth puts his bottle down. "I like learning new things. Why do you think I still hang around with you squints?"
"Okaaay." Hodgins laughs to himself, more self-conscious than he usually is. "Well, let's see. What other 'organ donation fun facts' do I know? Did you know that most transplants are transferred by air?"
"Timing, right?"
"Yeah, but when you can't get it on a plane or get it up in the air sometimes, you have to drive. I had to drive through a blizzard once to make it to Philly with a heart from a hospital in Alexandria. You have to drive all night without stopping, without eating. You can't even pee, because the heart has to make it from point A to point B and you just can't dawdle when it comes to something like that."
From behind the bar Booth can see Angela and Bones dodging teenagers and making their way back to their lane. The lights suddenly dim and the manager's voice booms on the overhead speakers, announcing that it's time to Rock and Bowl! Red, pink, blue, yellow, and green lights flash on, dancing around. Near the ball return Booth hears Cam sigh, "I'm officially too old for this, aren't I." Sweets starts dancing around to "Twist and Shout," blares out after the announcement is over.
Booth slowly gets up, and says to Hodgins, "You're a good man, Hodgins. If you tell anyone I said that, though—"
"I'm a dead man, right."
"Right you are."
Bones sidles up and says, "Is it my turn?" Angela slides into Booth's vacated seat next to Hodgins, and she's sitting just close enough to purposefully not touch him.
Booth turns away and gives his attention to Bones. There's not a lot of privacy in a crowded bowling alley, but he knows every square inch makes a difference. "Bones, it is."
"I'm going to throw a touchdown."
"A what?"
She looks at him with a straight face that only stays that way before it cracks open to a smile.
"You're joking with me!"
"Was I funny?"
Booth takes her by the elbow and leads her to the lane. "You are becoming very amusing. Now, if you can roll a strike, too, we can declare today 'Bones day.'"
Of course, for all her study and measurements she only manages to hit three pins the first time around, but Bones is nothing if not determined, and by the end of the night she's manage to roll two spares, which is close enough.
"Bones day it is," he says to her as they walk to the car, celebrating their win. Their arms are linked, and he thinks, she's with me tonight, not with Hacker. She's with me. It's enough. By now he's sobered up enough to take her home. She doesn't protest and leans against the Sequoia when Hodgins pulls Booth aside for a word.
"Thanks man."
"For what?"
"For being a friend."
"Anytime you need to talk, Hodgins. Well, maybe not during a murder investigation, but you can talk to me if you want about stuff."
"Stuff. Right."
Booth waves and begins to walk to the driver's side of his car. He pauses. "Hodgins?"
"Yeah?"
"You said that hearts travel at night. Why just at night?"
"I never said they didn't travel by day, too. When someone needs a heart, they need a heart. Day or night, right?"
"Someone's just gotta take the initiative to get it there, though, first."
"We're talking in metaphor again, aren't we?" he grins.
Booth beeps the car open and Bones slides into the passenger seat. Angela is leaning against the building, waiting, hanging around. She closes her eyes, but Booth can see that if they were open they'd be staring straight at Hodgins.
"Good luck, man," he says instead, because he knows the right heart has to be with the right person to work. If it isn't, it shrivels up, it dies.
Hodgins waves a hand, walking backwards down the sidewalk. "You too, Booth."