A/N: Day nine is here! I hope you enjoy this sweet boy and his mom.

He finds Michael standing in the hallway, still in pajamas when he's meant to be getting ready for school. A concerned look is on his face, and he's rubbing the hem of his shirt through his fingers.

"Hey, bud," Hodgins says going to his son. "What's wrong?

"Mom doesn't feel good again, does she?" Michael asks.

"No, she doesn't," Jack tells him honestly. 'Doesn't feel good' was an extreme understatement of how his wife was feeling. She was thirty-seven weeks pregnant, and miserable. No position could relieve the pain in her hips and back, and the baby clearly couldn't get comfortable either; he'd been moving almost constantly the past few days. And that meant no sleep for Angela, or him for that matter.

"I wish there was something we could do to help her." Their sweet boy; always worried more about others than himself.

"I know, bud. But we can't really do much. The baby's coming soon, but mom has to push through until then."

"There has to be something," Michael says, shaking his head. He goes back into his room and while he's getting dressed, thinks of ways he can help his mom. Then he spies, in the bin tucked into the cubby of his bedside table, the hippo shaped heating pad he'd used when his ankle got hurt playing soccer earlier in the season. Perfect.

"If you're going to ride the bus with Jordan today, you need to get a move on," Jack says to Michael as the boys come rushing into the kitchen, still in his pajamas. Michael tosses the heating pad into the microwave, and while it's warming up, he fills a cup with water and makes a few pieces of toast. "I don't want to go to school today," Michael tells his dad, finishing putting together his materials to bring to his mom.

"Why not? Did something happen?" Jack asks, suddenly concerned. Michael seemed to love school; always came home with stories and tales of what they learned. Was is sour demeanor earlier that morning something to do with him not wanting to go to school?

"Cause mom needs me," Michael says simply, passing his dad to go back to his parent's bedroom. He enters the semi-dark room as quietly as he can, setting the water and toast on the bedside table. Angela is laying on her side, watching Michael.

"Hey, baby," she whispers. "Why aren't you at school?"

"I'm not going to school today. I'm going to take care of you." Michael says, smiling, a hand on his mom's shoulder.

"Michael," Angela sighs, not mad, but sad her son thinks he has to miss school to take care of her. "Why do you need to take care of me?"

"Because you take care of me when I'm sick. It's my turn."

"Baby, you don't have to do that," Angeal says, tears coming to her eyes.

"I know. But I want to. I don't like seeing so sad and hurt."

"I don't like it either. But it just comes with being pregnant. I was the same way before you came."

"Really?"

Yeah; ask your dad. He was amazing. He helped me so much. But it was worth it. In the end, I got you," she says, running a hand over Michael's cheek. It's only then that she notices everything he son had brought with him. "What did you make me?"

"I did what you do when I'm sick," Michael shrugs. "Water, some toast, and the heating pad to put on the places you're sore."

"That is so sweet," Angela says, sniffling and wiping at tears. "I think I'll use that heating pad now while it's still warm." She places the warm animal across her hip, and it does help a bit at easing the pain.

"Michael! I'm not playing games anymore. You're going to be late for school," Hodgins says. Irritated, coming into the room.

"I told you, I'm not going to school. I'm gonna take care of momma," Michael says, standing his ground.

"It's okay, babe," Angela says, twisting to meet Jack's eyes. The two share a silent conversation, and Jack backs off.

"I'll go call your school," he says.

"Come lay down with me," Angela requests. Michael climbs into bed and lays behind his mom, his head high on the pillow so he can talk to her. Angela turns on the tv and finds the early morning cartoons Michael loved as a toddler. "Considering this is a sick day, a bit of comfort TV is in order, huh?"

"Yeah," Michael says, already falling back into a once beloved show.

The two lay there in comfortable silence, Michael making sure his mom was okay and drinking and eating some, and Angela letting it happen, relishing at how sweet Michael was and his need to make sure she was okay.

[][]

A while later, after getting out of a shower and getting dressed, Hodgins comes back into the room to find his wife, finally, sleeping, and his son still watching cartoons. The scene was so perfect, he hated to mess it up.

"Hey, Michael," he stage whispers, getting his son's attention. "I have to go into work for a little while. Are you going to be okay here?"

"Go, dad. I got this," Michael nods, seeming much older than his nine years of age.

"Okay," Jack nods, smiling. "Call me if you need me."

He arrives at the lab, getting morning greetings from everyone, eyeing the bustle of activity on the Platform. He quickly stores his bag and changes into his lab coat before riding the lift onto the platform to join the others.

"Hey!" Cam smiles, freshly back from her sabbatical. "How's Angela doing?"

"Still miserable. But Michael stayed home from school and somehow got her to sleep this morning," Hodgins relays.

"That is so sweet," Cam says; she'd always had a soft spot for all her team's kids, but Michael Vincent definitely stole her heart first.

"Yeah, it kind of was. You should have seen him," Jack chuckles, "he was so forceful to me. Like he'd made up his mind and nothing was going to change it."

"He's his mom's son," Cam remarks.

"That's for sure," Jack agrees, laughing. "Alright, what do we got?" He asks, slipping on a pair of gloves, pointing to the body currently on their table. But he doesn't get very far into the initial assessment because his phone rings. Jack quickly pulls it out of his pocket and seeing the caller id, he answers it just as fast. "Michael?"

"Dad? Mom needs you."