AN: I'm more adept at intro- and retrospective pieces because I'm terrible at characterizing the characters of Bones. However, this really needed to be written.
Angela was sitting in her bed, staring vaguely at the wall. She didn't know what to think, her heart still aching from the scare today. She almost lost the two most important people in her life, and it wasn't until she held Hodgins in her arms that she knew that he was going to be all right. The sound of the shower running was soothing, and it reminded her that he was okay, safe here in her home. That nothing was going to hurt him.
But just the sight of him, stark white, bleeding, terrified was etched into her mind so vividly that she didn't know if it would ever go away. His eyes, brilliant blue and usually light with discovery or conspiracy, were damp, tears dripping down his cheeks. Jack was vulnerable, something that you didn't see every day, and it broke her heart. He was terrified of finding himself, once again, waking up, suffocating, dying in that little car with Dr. Brennan.
"Angela?" Hodgins' voice broke her stupor, and she glanced over at him. He was wearing a pair of boxers, the clothes he had on previously bundled up in his arms. "You okay?"
She smiled and nodded her head. "Course I am. I'm just glad that you're okay, is all." Jack nodded and put his clothes on the floor, sitting at the edge of the bed next to Angela's feet, leaning back on the balls of his hands. They were quiet for a moment, the both of them watching out of the window in her bedroom.
After almost five minutes in silence, she asked, "How are you doing, Jack?"
He pulled his hands into his lap and leaned forward, staring at the floor. "Better, now that I'm not in that car," he admitted, and she smiled, crawling towards him to wrap him in her arms.
"Well, you'll never have to worry about that again," she told him quietly, and he kissed her gently on the cheek, leaning back into her chest with his eyes closed. Angela stroked his hair, and he smiled. His relief was so apparent on his face, the amount of thankfulness that he would live even longer to enjoy his time with Angela. "I think it's time for you to go to sleep Jack. You've had a long day."
He nodded and started to move over, until he remembered something. "Oh, Angela," he said quietly, reaching into his pile of clothes. "I have to go do something. I'll be right back." She nodded and he made his way out of the room, a piece of paper in his hands. It was yellowish, and crumbled, rough like a page out of a book. He opened the sheet and traced his fingers over the letters he had written in the white margins around the print of Temperance's novel. Jack stood in her kitchen and began to carefully tear the page into pieces. He knew with Angela's expertise she could put this together easily, but doubted that she would ever think to. He shred it into the tiniest pieces he could muster, and tossed them into the garbage.
His love for Angela could be shared in a better, more romantic way.
"Jack," she called from her room. He smiled and made his way back, his leg searing with pain for a moment. He walked in and she met his eyes with a smile. "Go to sleep. You really need it."
He nodded and kissed her goodnight, curling up against her beneath the blankets.