A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!

Here's chapter 7...hope y'all like it! And don't hate me too much for messing with your heartstrings, okay? Thank you to doctorsuez and ScienceGeek2587 for all their help! :-)

Disclaimer:I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 7

Crashing

Sweets paced up and down the waiting room floor, mentally counting his steps as he walked. Ten to the bad coffee service. Thirteen to the window. He knew that there should be something wrong with that, the numbers should match, but he didn't care to try and figure out what it was. The counting was a mental relaxation tool he often championed in his sessions with stressed agents, but now he could understand why they found it useless. It didn't help anything. Angela was still lying in the other room, beaten and broken.

He didn't know how many times he walked back and forth. He didn't notice anything until he was suddenly interrupted somewhere between six and seven on his way back to the coffee service by a pair of black heels. Blinking, he looked up and found himself face to face with Cam. "Dr. Saroyan. I'm, uh, sorry, I didn't see you there."

Before he had a chance to move around her, Cam lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders. "Sweets, no offense, but if you keep pacing, I'm going to have to ask Booth to shoot you." Her words were softened by an understanding smile.

He took a deep breath, then nodded, though it pained him to do so. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . I wish there was something I could do. I know that I should be clinical and be trying to help everyone come to terms with how they're feeling; I just can't seem to figure that out for myself." His eyes shifted over to the side, where he saw that Dr. Brennan had slipped into a doze, or at least had her eyes closed, her head resting on Agent Booth's shoulder. The agent himself had one arm wrapped around her, his own head leaning back against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling. A couple chairs away, Dr. Hodgins was slumped into a chair, his hands on his face, with his eyes still staring fixedly at the doorway. "How can I help them if I can't help myself?"

Cam could see the longing in his eyes when he looked at her colleagues, and understood what was there. While she wasn't entirely sure of the reasons for it, she knew that Sweets wanted a place to belong. A place where he would be accepted as he was. He'd worked long and hard over the past several months to become a part of the Jeffersonian team, and he nearly was. Cam herself was still too raw from Zack's betrayal only a little more than a month ago to fully accept him herself, but she still understood. "Don't be a doctor right now. Don't try to analyze feelings – theirs, or yours. Just be a friend. That will do the most good right now."

Sweets' eyes were still on Dr. Hodgins. He thought he knew something of what the man felt, and he hadn't even been the one to go in the room. Angela was so important to them all. She was like the spark. No, more than that. Angela Montenegro was their firecracker. And they all felt that lack of fire right now. "Yeah . . . I guess you're right." Together, the two of them walked back to the group and sat down next to the forensic anthropologist. Booth's eyes shifted to meet Sweets, and he nodded slightly. Sweets relaxed, feeling somehow better at the Agent's reassurance. They were going to be okay. Angela had been rescued. "Everything will be okay, now," he whispered. Cam heard him and lightly patted his knee in agreement.

Just as he started to sit back, there was a sudden flurry of activity in the hall outside the waiting room. Seconds later, they could all hear a computerized voice coming from a loudspeaker, "Code Blue, room T628. Code Blue, room T628. Authorized personnel, please respond." The door to Angela's room slammed open, and a nurse rushed out, hurrying down the hall while calling for a crash cart.

"Code blue, that's-" Booth started, looking at Brennan and Cam.

"She's crashing," Cam whispered in horror, one hand rising to her mouth.

"No," the word was spoken definitively by Hodgins, who then jumped up and dashed across the hall into Angela's room.

Inside, he saw the doctor performing CPR, and heard a high-pitched tone coming steadily from the ECG, and his eyes grew terrified as he stared down at his fiancé. Ignoring the doctor's orders for him to leave the room, he hurried to the bedside and took Angela's hand in his, leaning in to her ear.

"Angie, god . . . Angie, you can't leave me. You have to stay with me, okay? Just stay. You can't go. I need you too much, baby." His other hand brushed the hair away from her forehead as the nurse from before, along with others, entered the room with the crash cart. He didn't pay any attention to their attempts to make him leave the room. Instead he simply moved closer to the wall, staying by her head and continuing to hold her hand and whisper to her. As the doctors worked, all sound faded for Hodgins. All he could hear was that damn tone that refused to change. He squeezed her hand tightly in both of his as he simply babbled in Angela's ear.

"I love you so much, Angela. I need you to stay. If you leave me, there's nothing more for me. Working at the lab, being around our friends . . . none of it means anything without you. Please just live, Angie. You can't leave us, any of us. I love you . . ." Jack wasn't sure how many times they tried to revive her, but at last he heard the most wonderful sound in the world. A short, single beep. It was followed by a second, and then a third. It continued, and Hodgins leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers as he struggled to catch his breath. She was alive.

Slowly, he began to hear what the doctors were saying. Dr. Sommerset was explaining to the others that withdrawal from the drug had kicked in, causing autonomin instability. One of them told her that the ropinirole had arrived and she asked that some be brought in immediately to be added to Angela's IV. Jack noticed none of this. As he lifted his head to gaze down at Angela, her eyes fluttered several times, then slowly blinked their way open. A whimper escaped her lips as she felt the pain all over her body. When her gaze shifted meeting his, he could see that she recognized him, but instead of smiling, she jerked her hand from his grip suddenly, and began to tremble.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to smile at her. "Angie? It's me. Jack. Can you understand me?"

She shrank back from him, and the whimper began to grow louder. A moment later, Dr. Sommerset was at Hodgins' side. "Dr. Hodgins, I'm sorry, but I think it's best that you go back across the hall. I don't want her to get too agitated." He felt like his heart was breaking, but he nodded, slowly tearing his gaze away, and heading for the door.

Back across the waiting room, Cam and Brennan met him in the doorway, and he stared at them for a moment, then began to cry unabashedly. Wordlessly, both women stepped forward and hugged him tightly, catching him as he began to fall. Booth moved in, guiding all three of them back to a chair, while Sweets looked on miserably. "Dr. Hodgins . . . is she?"

"She – she's alive." He squeezed his eyes shut. "She's alive, but . . . she's not her."