Angela set her keys in the dish by the mahogany front door with a small clang. She sighed heavily as she watched her husband slowly head to the spacious den, walking with a slouch that seemed so uncomfortable for the usually confident striding man that zoomed about at work. The day had taken its toll for sure. Jack had been a bundle of helpless energy, an emotional bomb that could explode at any given moment and there was little she could do to reassure him that this would all work out. How could she promise such things? Taffet's case was strong, hell they all knew that, and this was not going to be the usual push over where the evidence was clear and pointed to the truth the jury could understand and believe with no doubt.
She played with the new piece of jewellery on her left hand as she stood frozen in the entrance way, it still seemed so different yet like it was supposed to be there all along. God she had missed this place, missed him, missed feeling and showing love to the one person she knew the universe had pushed her towards. The sound of clinking brought her out of her silent flashbacks and she immediately knew what Jack was doing, shit she wanted to do the exact same but felt one of them should probably keep a clear head tonight. Angela let out a full breath she hadn't known she had kept in. Rubbing her eyes wearily, she headed towards the den, prepared to be the pillar of support he so badly craved and needed and she would, she would hold him, kiss him, let him vent and rant at her if that was what had to be done for she knew he would do the exact same for her if their roles were reversed.
The scent of strong whiskey filled her nostrils as she waltzed into the room unprepared to find the gaze of Hodgins staring far into the distance, void of any expression yet full of emotion kept hidden only for her to unravel and decipher. She knew that her presence had been felt yet he did little to acknowledge her at that moment, lost and succumbing to his own demons he had tried to bury, much like they had tried to do to him first.
"Can I get you anything?" She asked carefully, unwilling to upset his thought process but knowing he needed to eat sometime soon if anything just to take his mind off of the stress coursing through both their bodies. Jack looked up from his seat in the antique leather chair and smiled ever so faintly at his new bride, the grin never reaching his eyes to make it believable or heartfelt.
He cleared his throat. Not trusting the words to come out not covered in hoarse and gravel. "No I'm fine, thanks Ange." She nodded timidly. "Well if you change your mind…" she hadn't the energy or heart to push the issue further. Angela about turned and headed for the kitchen, maybe a glass of wine would stop the shakes her skillful hands had adopted since seeing Jack look so undoubtedly broken. She left him clutching his near empty glass and pulled out her own, blinking her lashes in rapid succession to bid back the tears that were ready to break free at any moment given half the chance. This was the worst feeling and she recognised it so very well. That clock. That fucking clock that counted down, haunted her memories and teased like a sadistic imp willing to push her over the edge, test what it took to shatter her into pieces so fragmented not even Brennan could repair. Helplessness and uncertainty with a hint of fear mixed in for good measure, put them in a bowl, stir it together and voila you have yourself an Angela Montenegro cocktail. A recipe that had definitely changed from the usual characteristics that radiated from the artist.
The fridge was wide open, light on and Angela could feel her skin become clammy from the slight cold breeze, yet, she was glued to the spot. Visions of Booth yelling, Zach faltering with figures then stating the obvious, Cam clutching at straws, her eyes begging the remaining team to come up with something, anything…The wine stood on the shelf forgotten as Angela relived her worst fears once again, the detail set so perfectly it was if she had simply played make belief. Then it happened. Zero. No time left. Brennan and Hodgins faded and she was left standing there loosing that which she didn't understand she had. Black. It was the impact that jerked her head downwards as she clutched her hand to her heart. Tiny shards everywhere, glinting like diamonds. Mentally scolding herself, Angela went to a nearby cupboard and brought out the dust pan and brush, something she hadn't seen in ages but had become accustomed to using at least once a month when she formally lived there. She swept as quietly as possible. Splinters collected as she performed a different style of brushstroke against the cold canvas of a floor, trying to concentrate but quickly forgetting what the fuck she was doing in the first place. It hit her and it hit her hard and before she knew it her body was huddled tightly as it slid down the kitchen island pan still in hand and knees drawn to her breast. Two souls sat mutely suffering, neither wishing to burden the other until one had decided they had spent too much wasted time alone and wordless.
He had heard the smashing of what he guessed was a glass but couldn't seem to get permission from his calves and knees to move forward to inquire. Another clink. His wedding band slightly impacted with the short glass causing his head to turn towards the offending interruption. If this wasn't a sign to move then Hodgins wasn't a doctor with three PHDs. Angela. She was his. His reason, his love, his only and she was in there alone, without him, tiptoeing for no reason, this wasn't her, wasn't who she was. He found her in a ball sobbing, his heart crushed against his chest. Without thought he was next to her and cradling her body against his, sharing the warmth and pain, together, as husband and wife. She folded into him as he pulled her close and brushed the remaining hair free from her dampened cheeks that were glistening with tracks.
"I'm sorry." She had to turn her head slightly and look up after the statement.
"For what?" The look of astonishment was clear to Jack as he drew back a little to get a clearer vision of her delicate features.
"For shutting down on you. You're as much a part of this as I am. This has affected you too, and God Ange I'm… I'm just sorry for not being enou-" She wasn't going to let him finish that sentence.
Taking his cheek in her hand and caressing it softly she cut him off. "You're more than enough Jack, don't ever think you aren't." He nodded, brown eyes focused on blue, hands entwined and a promise sealed. "You're my guy remember?" And he so very much did. Sliding his hand through her silky cocoa hair he smiled and meant it as he recalled the two times he had never been so truthful to anyone or about anything in his life. Angela's eyes pleaded for her, for him, for them and he could deny her nothing. He kissed her temple softly before raising himself up and outstretching a palm to combine with her own which she readily accepted. Feeling a little more confident with his partner right following him, Jack started to lead them out of the kitchen whilst Angela took one last look back at the crushed mess behind; she knew it would be there in the morning but tomorrow was going to be a new day of fixing what was once broken.