A/N: Side piece to accompany Five Years Changes Everything. Been niggling in the back of my mind for awhile.

The boxes had been there since Zack moved in, stacked in the corner of his above-garage apartment, unopened. And they always spark Hodgins' curiosity; why, out of all the boxes Zack had brought with him to DC, had he not opened those two? And this was one of the questions he liked to plague the younger man with, along with "What the hell's in those things anyways?" And the answer was always the same. Nothing of any importance. And that was how it was for two years, until Hodgins got fed up.

So that was why the boxes had been hauled into the middle of the living room, and opened with the box cutter he'd grabbed as he left the house that Sunday morning. One to a box, they started pulling out the crumpled newspaper and packing peanuts that Hodgins suspected had been Mrs. Addy's doing rather than Zack's. The newspapers were from the year before Zack came to be Brennan's intern and sure enough, the first thing he uncovered was a textbook on advanced, theoretical physics. University stuff—this was Zack's university stuff.

There was a pull-over sweatshirt that was ripped in a few places, and might have had blood on one of the cuffs; notebooks nearly black with Zack's scribbled notes; a boxed set of Tomas Harris' novels; more textbooks; and a jumble of DVDs and paperback books. But it was the book that was tucked into the bottom corner of Hodgins' own box that caught his eye. A leather-bound copy of Milton's Paradise Lost. Opening it up, he saw something had been written inside the cover in a loopy scrawl.

"Zack, hope that you think of me whenever you read this, even if you don't always get it. You don't have to "get" poetry, kinda like me."

A girl's writing; no name or clue as to who she'd been. Just the words, and a hope that he'd think of her. Who was she? It was on the tip of Hodgins' tongue to ask, but he was stopped as Zack snatched the book from his hands. His jaw was clenched, and brows knitted together in a frown he'd never worn before. 'This is why I didn't want to unpack all this stuff.' He muttered, putting the book aside and out of Hodgins' reach.

Defeated, he turned back to the box, and saw that a picture had been trapped beneath the book of poetry. On the steps of an old limestone building, a group sat grinning. Most of them were older—some almost thirty—but two stood out in the front row, center. A younger Zack was grinning a little uncertainly, and had his arm around the shoulders of a girl about the same age. She was really pretty, and seemed to laugh at the camera in a way that oozed charisma and a vibrant personality. She must have been the giver of the book; an old girlfriend from university.

Seeing the photo himself, Zack tried to grab it too, but this time Hodgins was faster; he held it out of reach and faced his best friend. 'Who is she?'

'No one of any consequence.'

'Bullshit.'

Zack looked at the picture, and shut his eyes as he shook his head slightly. 'She was the best friend I could have asked for in university; she went away to Africa the same year I came to the Jeffersonian.'

If that was all, then why did he look so hurt? Why did he leave the memories of that time packed up in two cardboard boxes for two years, trying to ignore them? Hodgins wanted to ask, but Zack's set expression told him not to. There were places where it was best not to tread. Things that were better off being left alone instead of stirring up all the old feelings and ripping open all the old wounds. The girl probably hadn't meant to hurt Zack, but she had none the less, and this was something that not even his best friend could fix.

Instead, he turned back to the contents of the boxes. 'So what do you want to do with all this stuff?'

'Pack it all up, and put it in the garage, I guess.'

And as Hodgins started throwing everything back into the box, aside from the books and DVDs, he saw Zack take the old picture in his hands, and stare at it for a moment. Letting out a shaky sigh, he closed his eyes, and tore it down the middle, separating himself from his old best friend who had probably forgotten him wherever she was in Africa. Her side of the picture was tossed back into the box, and Zack left Hodgins to finish cleaning up the mess he'd unwittingly made.