Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were

Author's note: I know this is a little shorter than the last 3 chapters, but that was just the perfect place to end it. I hope to update again soon, nut I start a new job tomorrow, so if I can't I apologize.

"Come on, Zach! If you're not ready in thirty seconds, you're walking home!" Hodgins yelled, and winced as it echoed through the empty lab. It was well after midnight, and Casey had left over an hour ago. After reconstructing the skull she had waited on his findings on the acid used in the fingers, then made a list of sources for Dr. Brennan and taped it to her office door. She bid farewell to them both, and left. It seemed that Zach had been scrambling around nearly frantic over busywork ever since. Hodgins had been patient, he knew it had been a stressful day for the young man, but enough was enough! He would like to get some sleep at some point. At least when they signed out so late they wouldn't be required to be back at 8 am.

Zach appeared in front of him in a split second. "Okay. I guess I'm ready. We should go. You need sleep."

Hodgins looked at him like he had lost his mind, and herded him out the door. "I need sleep? What about you? When did you sleep last?"

Zach tilted his head to the side slightly. "That depends. What day is it?"

"Tuesday. No, actually, as of thirty-five minutes ago, Wednesday."

"Sunday night. But only for about three hours. I've been having trouble sleeping lately, but I think I'm starting to get used to it." Great, Zach was one of those rare individuals who reacted to sleep deprivation with more energy, rather than fatigue.

Somehow, Hodgins managed to get him into the Mini-Cooper, but it was like having a bat in a Mason jar. He couldn't seem to sit still, and squirmed constantly. He fiddled with the door handle, and kept unbuckling and rebuckling his seat belt.

Finally, Hodgins couldn't take it anymore, and tried to engage him in conversation. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Zach was quiet for so long, Hodgins thought he hadn't heard him, and was about to repeat himself. Then he spoke, and it took an incredible amount of concentration to pick out the individual words. "I really think we should wait until we get home, I don't think I can do it in here, there's not enough room in here to move around and I'm sure what I have to say is going to involve a large amount of talking with my hands, and probably a fair amount of pacing and…" He stopped and looked at Hodgins. "Is this how people feel when they say they need a drink? I don't drink very often, but I think I need a drink!"

"Well, then," said Hodgins, "I guess we should go to the main house."

"So, what'll it be?" asked Hodgins. "Beer, or something stronger?"

Zach hesitated. "I think I better go with something stronger."

He poured his friend a small amount of Jack Daniels, then handed it to him and sat down on the leather sofa to watch him pace. "So, spill it. I mean, say whatever's on your mind." He knew Zach wasn't good with metaphors, and this carpet was expensive. He wasn't sure if Zach understood or not, because the young man turned up the shot glass and downed it quickly. He gagged, choked, then righted himself again. "That tastes terrible!" He offered the glass back to Hodgins. "Do you have more?"

Becoming more concerned, he poured another shot, which Zach sipped at, more like himself. Finally, he flopped onto the other couch. "Something's wrong with me," he blurted out. "I'm not sleeping more than four hours a night, having strange dreams, first I'm hot, then I'm chilled, my stomach rejects everything I put in it. I've tried to just ignore it but it's been worse today…yesterday…whenever than it's ever been since it started. I don't know what to do! It started when Casey showed up, and its worse whenever she's around. Maybe there's something about her that-"

Hodgins looked at him, eyes wide enough to fall out of their sockets. "Are you saying that you…?

"I don't know what I'm saying!" Zach exclaimed, frusterated. "All I know is how I feel, and that's very non-specific! I don't understand it, and I can't translate it! That's why I came to you!" He was really yelling now, almost a month of keeping it to himself exploding with the stress of the days events. Little Zachary Addy was actually yelling. Hodgins didn't think he even knew how. He stood up and began pacing again.

For his part, Hodgins sat there, contemplating, putting two and two and two together. The way the boy's insanely large vocabulary often failed him whenever Casey was around, the starry-eyed look he had gotten the first day when she had called him 'Dr. Addy', the fact that he had actually risked his life for her earlier. "Oh, Geez!" he exclaimed. Zach, you are a genius! You graduated college at sixteen for crying out loud! You can't possibly be that clueless!"

Zach stopped in mid-stride, downed the rest of his shot, and headed unsteadily back to the couch. "I don't know what that means," he said. He was remarkably sober for someone who rarely drank. The alcohol hadn't even seemed to take the edge off. "I guess that means I am that clueless."

Hodgins sighed. Why did he have to be the one to have this talk with him? This was what fathers were for! And it should have happened ten years ago. "I think I need a drink, too." He poured himself a shot, finished it off, poured another and refilled Zach's. "Zach, haven't you ever been in love before?"