Hodgins, Angela and a certain Egyptian exhibit try to figure things out between them. After Roxie breaks up with Angela, Angela is lost.
A three-part short.
"What's wrong?" The words were out of Hodgins mouth before he even registered he had spoken them. His brow furrowed, he continued to gaze steadily at an apprehensive Angela.
She had appeared at his door after lunch, face tight and blotchy. Like she had cried. His mind has responded automatically to her unease - it was always easy to read each other's body language.
"I broke up with Roxie." The declaration comes out in a rush, and Angela's lips set in a thin line right after she blurts it out. She knew better than to lie to Hodgins - after all he had been down that road too.
Hodgins' face goes hard for a moment, and Angela wonders if by confessing this she has brought up memory of his own pain. She visibly relaxes when he sighs, suddenly aware that she does, indeed, hold the opinion of this man before her very highly.
"I'll grab a break, and we can talk." Hodgins tells her gently, and she nods. Angela doesn't tell him she doesn't feel like talking, like eating, like anything. He probably knows all this from personal experience. She watches him neatly pack his things away, set his precious machines to run on schedule, and finally leave a small yellow post-it note on the cleared desk. She smiles at the running joke between all of them at the Lab, that by leaving a post-it note stating urgency or importance, they were entitled anything in the Jeffersonian. This, of course, is not true at all, but it doesn't stop Hodgins from repeatedly 'borrowing' things from the departments. Then she wonders that if she were as important to him as catching a murderer by any means, that he really doesn't care if he gets into trouble because of this.
Hodgins finishes and sweeps the lab with his gaze, mentally checking a list of things. He murmurs an apology to his treasured equipment, a habit made out years in love with his work. Then he shrugs when he notices Angela's small smile, as if still teasing him about his affection for programmed hunks of metal. When they were still dating, she would fake jealousy when he spoke to or praised his equipment, but he always let her know in the end she was the one he really treasured. Hodgins knows that Angela is still as important to him, but he wonders is she does, and whether she will let him express it. He shakes his head, and walks with Angela.
Both of them stroll together out of the Lab, and instinctively head toward the storage halls in the back. It is already much quieter when the Lab door seals effortlessly shut, but what they want is a private place. The storage halls rarely have people at this time, and it is deadly silent as the pair pace along the exhibits. The air between them is heavy with unspoken words, regret and tension that neither wants to be the first to break. They head in no particular direction, and the pace slows.
Angela peeks at Hodgins out of the corner of her eyes. Her eyes dance over the little things she loves about him - his light stubble that weakens her knees when they made love in the past, the golden curls that seem to fall everywhere, the expression on his face when he's deep in thought. Then she sees the tight shoulders and with a pang of guilt realize that the screaming, haunting nightmares Hodgins has of being trapped underground have returned in her absence. She resists the impulse to knead his shoulders, silencing the idea with the very simple fact that they are not together anymore.
Hodgins, meanwhile, has taken to introspection. He knows that he will do anything for this woman, no matter the cost, but does she need it? Does she want independence and freedom, or does she want a warm, strong, comforting shoulder at this moment. Even with everything intimate he knows about Angela, he still know what she truly wants, because he knows what he wants isn't going to be her wish as well. He snaps out of his reverie with a start when he sees the Egyptian exhibit a few feet in front. The memories gush back, unneeded, unwanted and he stills to fight the urge to grab her and relive some of those memories.
Angela senses Hodgins still beside her, and she glances up. A soft gasp escapes her as she, too, stands there and remember. The exhibit looks exactly the same since their last secret rendezvous here, Cleopatra's bed sheets still haphazardly laid out. Their last conversation her springs to mind -
"hmm Jack, I could get used to being a queen..." They are lying naked, right on the bed Hodgins claimed belonged to Cleopatra.
"Pharaoh, Angela. I'm sure you'll be the fairest one of them all..." He laughs at the fairy tale pun.
"Well, I wouldn't be much use in politics, but I'll have you as my chief adviser, always by my side... " She murmurs seductively into his right ear. "You with all your theories and brilliant mind could be useful..." She gives him a small nibble.
He sighs. "Well, I could be VERY busy doing other things with Your Highness, so I may not be much use in the advice department..." He teases and kisses her forehead and pulls her closer to him, her head resting lightly on his chest. His hand absently plays with a lock of her chocolate-brown locks.
He sighs again as he catches another breath of her heady perfume. Surprisingly, his brain is appropriately silent, and he doesn't even automatically break down the chemical components of her scent. Of course, he knows the perfume perfectly, having crafted it out of the Rosa 'Dark Lady' - it is dark, dusky crimson rose, with rather loosely formed blossoms that open wide over the low shrubs and hang elegantly. They have a special character of their own and give off the classic old English rose scent. Angela was very moved by the gift, and even more when he had explained the meaning of such a present. Dark roses represent a bold love, unconscious beauty and the familiarity of unspoken words but perfect understanding. She had kissed him fiercely after that and they had to escape here for a short while to let of some steam.
Fast forward to the both of them now numbly staring at the very same place they had laid, and it suddenly becomes clear to both of them how painful the split was. In many ways they both have not let it go. How could they, when they still had to face each other civilly in the Lab, to smile on through the haze of hurt and still work together everyday?
Blind with raw emotion, pain clearly on his face, Hodgins turns to Angela to apologize, to say anything, before either of them falls back into something neither of them can control. Only he finds that his hands have suddenly seized hers and in one move he has pulled her into his arms, his face buried in her hair.
Both of them hold each other like this for a while, and neither of them wants this moment to end.
Suddenly, Angela whispers, "Jack..." and falls into a dead faint.
And Part 2 will be up soon!
If you have a little time on your hands, I have another fanfic called "A Murder of Sorts (POV)" and is written from the point of view of a few people, including the murderer and the victims. Do check it out!
Thanks ad let me know if you like this!