"I have to think about the future."
Oh, Roxie. If only you were here to see this. Angela might have found this situation humorous, if her heart weren't nearly beating out of her chest. Maybe there was something to Roxie's look-to-the-future way of life. After all, if Angela had thought more about the future, she wouldn't be in this predicament.
*
He was like home. Falling into Cleopatra's bed with him had seemed like the most natural thing, despite the fact that she was still reeling from having broken up with her girlfriend. His mouth had been all over her, scattering his gentle kisses across her shoulders, her stomach. Maybe it was just the sense of the familiarity, a result of the long and amazing relationship that they'd shared not so long ago, but being with him felt like going home. It had seemed like she'd been able to exhale for the first time in a long time when he'd finally entered her. They'd moved together as though they'd never been apart: her fingernails traced the same lines down his back as before, his lips found their home on the side of her neck. She sighed with the memory, and cringed at what had come next.
*
"Angela?" A knock drew her back into the present. "Hey, are you okay in there?" Jack's voice was soft and concerned, as always. He'd wanted to be in the room with her, but she wouldn't allow it. Hold the stick under the flow for-- She put the box down with a grimace. With Roxie, she'd been irresponsible. After all, when you're with a woman, birth control pills become somewhat less important. "I'm fine," she called back weakly. Fine, but supremely stupid. A missed pill here, a pill taken too late there, and now she was staring at a stick and trying not to faint.
She wanted kids—that hadn't been a lie, and nothing had changed since then. But now? Roxie was right: she lived in the moment. There was nothing wrong with the moment. Except...that was what had gotten her into this situation in the first place. What made her think she could raise a child? Hands trembling, she followed the directions on the box, then found herself curling up in the bathtub to wait, with her arms wrapped around her knees. Five minutes. It was really nothing more than a collection of moments, but these were going to be the longest moments of her entire life.
*
"Hodgins." Her heart was racing as she approached him, and she double-checked that no one was listening in. When he saw her, his eyes lit up and his lips curled into that smile of his that he reserved for her alone. In another situation, her heart would probably have skipped a beat, but right now it was too busy being about to explode.
"Angela, hey." He rested his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. Somewhere in her mind, Angela knew that is was strange for them to be so close, so intimate, but she didn't feel like resisting him. Finally, he seemed to realize that something was off. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you feeling okay?" He raised one hand to touch her face, but now she pulled away, shaking her head lightly.
"No. I'm not." She picked up the small sculpture that Goodman had given him the Christmas they'd all been quarantined together. She still wasn't even sure she should tell him at all. "Okay, first off, I don't want you to freak out or anything. Whatever happens, I can, um, handle it myself. I mean, I guess, I'm not going to...ask you for anything, because this is mostly my fault anyway for being so stupid..."
Hodgins interrupted her, taking her hands lightly and leading her to his seat. "Breathe." He squeezed her hands. "You're shaking, Angela. Just tell me what's going on." He knelt in front of her, with his hands on her knees and his eyes fixed on hers.
Angela drew in a deep breath, steeling herself. It was ridiculous to be this scared: it wasn't like she was in high school or anything. She was an adult, and was perfectly capable of doing whatever needed to be done...whatever the outcome. "I'm not sure yet, so this all might be nothing and I'm just being stupid, but I might be pregnant." She hadn't spoke the word aloud until now, and it fell heavy on her ears even as she looked away from him.
Jack's fingers tightened on her knees. "Angela, I don't—what? I thought you were still...?" Angela only shook her head—she didn't feel like getting into the whole explanation. He seemed to accept this, and moved his hand from her legs to the arms of the chair. He was starting to look as nervous as Angela felt. "Okay. Okay. I am going to be here for you, Ange. Whatever you decide. Have you taken a test or anything yet? Should you see a doctor? Are...are you okay?" He touched her face again, with his gentle fingertips.
*
Angela continued to eye the test on the corner of the sink, as though locked in a staring contest with a bitter enemy. What she wouldn't give to have Jack touch her the way he had earlier that day. Then it occurred to her: maybe she could. He was, after all, surely just outside that door, waiting to hear any sound from her. It was worth a try, in any case. She pulled in a shaky breath and called his name. Her voice was faint, but still she saw the doorknob turn, and he was stepping through the door after hardly any time at all. She saw him glance at the stupid pee-stick, but then his eyes came to a rest on her face. Without speaking, he climbed into the tub with her and took what was surely an uncomfortable position in order to slip his arm around her back.
"How long?" He asked.
"Five more minutes." She was acting silly, and she realized it. She was gainfully employed, with plenty of people to support her in this. It wasn't as though it were something she needed to hide from parents or classmates. At the same time, though, she didn't want to have to think about any of it. She should have been smarter, should have been more careful, should have stopped for just a moment to think about what they were doing.
"Hey." Jack leaned forward a bit to catch her eyes. "Angela, I'm not going to pretend to know exactly what you're thinking right now, but I think I can guess, okay? And I want you to stop blaming yourself, or whatever it is that you're doing. This isn't your fault, and whatever that thing over there ends up telling us, I'm here. I mean...whatever you want to do, I will, you know, support that. "
Angela looked up, somewhat surprised, somewhat skeptical. There was just one problem with what he was saying—she wasn't sure she should allow him to be ihere/i. She knew that she had hurt him, maybe more than he had hurt her. She also knew that she didn't want to tie him down with a Baby. The word burned in her mind, and a curious stinging sensation rose up behind her eyelids. There was so much she was tempted to say to him. Leave me alone. I'm sorry. Stop being so amazing. I love you.
Because she did. God help her, she loved Jack Hodgins. He deserved so much better than her. He should have someone who could give of herself freely, without Angela's stupid fear of things like marriage. He deserved to not be hurt anymore, not by her. He would not throw his life away for her: she wouldn't allow it. Something small and painful surfaced somewhere within her: doubt. Selfishness. A small part of her, or maybe not so small, didn't care what she felt he deserved. She wanted him, stupidly, despite her inadequacies, despite how much more he should be allowed to have.
She met his eyes, a battle raging on in her mind, and he seemed to realize this. His own eyes darkened, and he cupped her cheek with his palm. Before he could speak—god, his voice would be her undoing—she moved forward, not to kiss him but to press her forehead against his. Their gazes never faltered, and she thought she saw a hint of a smile curving the corners of his lips once more. iI thought so,/i he seemed to be saying. She would rest her head on his shoulder now for just a moment, just one more delicious moment to savor before she finally let him go.
"Ange, I think it's been five minutes." She hadn't dozed off, that was for sure, but time seemed to have sped up, jumped ahead somehow. Sweets would probably have some psychological term for it, but Angela was simply grateful. He rose, climbed out of the tub, and picked up her adversary, that stupid stick. He studied it as though it were a clue to a murder, as though he held the key to unlock the secrets behind someone's last few moments in life. "Two lines, Angela. What does that mean?"
"I don't know." Angela stepped out of the tub as well, and noted that her fingers were trembling again as she reached for the box. This was her answer, and, whatever it was, it was surely better than the not knowing. Her eyes scanned the tiny print until she found the answer she was looking for. Her breath whooshed out of her in one big sigh, and she let the box drop to the floor again as she sank into a sitting position on the side of the tub. She hesitated for a moment, savoring her relief, the sudden warmth that had flooded through her entire body. "It says that means negative," she breathed. "I'm not pregnant."
Hodgins appeared to share her relief—he, too, sank onto the side of the bathtub with a sigh. "That's...good, right?" He asked, turning to look at her. He seemed unsure as to how, exactly, he should be reacting to the news. For the first time that night, Angela broke into a smile.
"It is," she replied. "Jack, I want kids, but...not now. Not...like this." He looked hurt, but Angela assured herself that that hurt would only last a little while. If she allowed herself to want him again, she had the potential to hurt him ten times as badly. This was for his own good. She hoped. He stood up and shoved his hands deep intfo his pockets.
"I should get going," he said, and his voice was tight. Angela closed her eyes against the sound, but nodded.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she answered, trying to keep her own voice under control. "And, um...Hodgins...thank you for, you know...being here tonight."
Jack shrugged, then wordlessly turned and left. Angela watched him go and fought very hard to control the uncharacteristic urge to run after him, to ask him to stay. She knew that he needed to leave, and that, for the sake of their sanity, she couldn't allow him to come back.