Chapter Fourteen: I Don't Have Anything

Half a world away, while Zach's life was hanging by a string, a different kind of fight would be waged. The sunlight filtered through the crack between the dark-red drawn curtains of Hodgins' and Angela's master bedroom. She lay on the mattress, her raven hair splayed around her head like a halo. Looking to the ceiling, breathing softly with her husband's hand on her stomach, an outsider would not have believed that something was very wrong. They appeared to be one of the many couples in the world resting in each other's arms. Nevertheless, Hodgins was doing everything in his power to make it seem he wasn't disturbed by her secret. His thoughts raced from betrayal to Angela just being over-emotional. Hodgins hadn't tried finding out what was wrong since the news of the pregnancy, but now seemed like the best moment to ask her, while he had her full attention. Instead, he kissed her forehead and asked, "When will the baby start to kick?"

Angela smiled softy and answered, "In about fourteen weeks, since a month and two weeks have already passed."

"Seems so long."

"Hmmm."

Melancholy overran Angela's features, the winning smile now a frown, her free-spirited eyes grown laden with stress. It seemed like she aged ten years in ten seconds. Hodgins' jaw tightened and he rolled over, hiding his own despair and anger. Clearing his voice, he questioned, "What time were you going into the lab?"

"In a few minutes. I just need to pick up some files," she said softly. Sitting up, she readjusted a pink cami and pulled her hair into a bun. Hodgins watched, knowing the woman he loved more than life itself was keeping something from him. Turning his stare to the ceiling, he announced, "I'll start making dinner, then."

Normalcy. That's all Hodgins wanted. She leaned down to kiss him. "I'll be back in a few."

"Kay."

Angela left the semi-darkened room, leaving Hodgins to rub his face wearily. Rising from the bed, he made his way to the curtains. Drawing them back, he peered out and watched as Angela pulled out of the driveway. For a second, he felt like the antagonist in one of his conspiracy theories. Angela trusted him: he was about to violate that gift. Switching the lights back on, he began rummaging immediately through her drawers. Searching blind, he hadn't the slightest clue what to look for. I just need to find something, anything that'll give me answers. What is she hiding from me? Gingerly placing back drawings and sketches displaced in his search, he closed the drawers and moved on to her side of the closet. Obviously finding nothing in coat pockets, he turned to some of the boxes on the floor. He recognized a tiny blue one as the expensive lingerie Angela bought for their honeymoon. A wicked grin momentarily spread across his face as lovely memories surfaced, back to when he wasn't losing sleep over a secret.

You should stop…this isn't the way…

He sat heavily on the floor, not knowing what to do. Talk it out with her, genius. You haven't done that yet. Did you think going through her things would yield answers? Try again, Idiot.

"Fine, fine. I'll talk to her over dinner," he murmured to himself. He couldn't handle another night not knowing what the problem was. This whole dilemma was like seeing the season finale of a favorite show and dying to make it to the fall without looking up the spoilers. You want to know what's going to happen, whether it's good or bad.

He started to lift himself off the floor when something under the bed caught his eye. A white plastic bin had been shoved haphazardly back, the lid only resting on top. He paused, debating. "Oh, what the hell, it could be a tub of shoes for all I know. It isn't going to hurt to look." He reached in and pulled the container out while unconsciously holding his breath. He lifted the lid, and burst out laughing when he saw a stack of paperbacks.

"Serves you right," Hodgins sighed, relieved for the moment. He scanned the titles and saw that many of them were old-western romance novels. Shaking his head, he went to push the bin back under the bed when something else grabbed his attention. Tucked between one of the book stacks and the corner was an envelope. Frowning, he removed the paper and read the address in the upper left hand corner.

"St. John's Area Hospital…" he trailed off, confused. Any regrets he had for breaking into Angela's privacy were forgotten as he ripped the letter out of the envelope. Is she sick, is Ange okay? What the hell is wrong? He quickly began reading aloud, his heartbeat racing. If he didn't find out what this was about, he'd be the one who'd end up going to a hospital!

"…scans have confirmed Ms. Montenegro, that the tumors have turned malignant. We advise immediate treatment for the brainstem glioma. Our treatment options are limited, due to the cancer's location. We suggest chemotherapy…"

Hodgins froze and his racing heart came to a screeching halt. Cancer? Oh God… The letter was dated two weeks before Angela announced the pregnancy. His hand traveled to his mouth as panic and grief pounded into him. My Angela…my child…why is this happening to her? Brain cancer? Christ, she's been keeping this from me? Oh, Angela…

The sound of pounding feet jerked him out him out of his stricken state. In an almost sing-song quality, Angela ran up the stairs, calling, "Hey, I'm back! I got down past our street when I remembered that I forgot to bring some art supplies with me…" Angela opened the bedroom door and her eyes fell onto Hodgins, sitting on the wooden floor and clutching the letter from the hospital. His eyes were red-rimmed and he was deathly pale. Angela's stomach dropped to her feet. She trembled, "Oh, God…Jack…"

"Why didn't you tell me? Angela, how could you…" his voice cracked. He was furious at himself for being too afraid to find out what was wrong earlier, knowing now she was going through this by herself. He hated himself now for breaking down in front of her, when she was the one dying! Angela knelt next to him, her eyes watering.

"I couldn't--"

"But why?" Hodgins asked, the shock wearing off slowly. "You--why would you hide this?"

Angela sniffed and whispered, "Did Bren tell you?"

"Brennan?" Hodgins paused as indignation crossed his face. "You told her and not me? I-I'm practically you're husband! Aren't I not important enough," Hodgins fired off. Don't start yelling at her, you never have before! She doesn't, and never will deserve it! But Hodgins couldn't help himself as pain seized him. Why did she keep this from him? "Don't I mean anything? I thought…" he trailed off.

"What, that I didn't love you enough," Angela cried, bitterness etched clearly into her voice.

"Do you know how hard it's been, knowing the woman you loved was keeping something hidden like that?" Hodgins countered, his voice shaking.

"Do you know how hard it's been, carrying this burden, Jack," Angela retorted, tears streaming freely. "I have a life growing inside of me, and I'm sick. How do you think I felt?"

"So why couldn't I have helped you manage the burden? I love you so much, and knowing you were going through this without me, it kills. I want to help…" Hodgins nearly broke down.

Angela placed a hand on his cheek and she whispered, "It's because I loved you so much, I thought you shouldn't have to." She started heaving as her hand dropped to her face. Unable to sit upright anymore, she leaned forward, sorrow engulfing her. Hodgins closed his eyes and took her into his arms, hugging her tightly. He murmured into her hair, "I'm so sorry, Ange. I'm sorry." He rocked her gently, crying silently. Too stunned to think anything else, only one thought surfaced to his mind.

What are we going to do?