After the longest car ride of their lives, Christine and Michael finally arrived at St. Vincent's Hospital late that night. Christine dragged a groggy Michael out of the car and led him, his eyes half-closed, through the cold hallways. He shivered and pulled a hood over his matted hair, dragging his feet in a way that drove Christine crazy. Usually, she would have said something. Actually, she would have yelled something, but not this time. She was worried about him. He'd barely spoken all day, sleeping through most of the car ride, but waking occasionally to ask how far away they were. For this reason, Christine held her tongue.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound cheerful, "You okay?"

Michael, still looking groggy, never looked up from the floor, but nodded his head.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay," she chirped, although she didn't believe him. "If you're sure."

"I said I'm fine, Christine," Michael snapped.

Christine knew it was best to say nothing else. As easygoing as he usually was, Michael had his dad's fiery temper with all the passion of his mom, the kind that came straight from his soul. When he felt something, he felt it with his entire being. Michael was closer to his parents than most kids could ever understand. He was extremely worried about his mom and it showed all over his face.

Arriving in the ICU waiting area, the young adults learned that Angela had been moved to a regular hospital room, and Michael's mood seemed to brighten slightly. It took them ten more minutes to find the right waiting room and Michael joked that they weren't as bright as test scores said they were. Christine took this as a good sign.

"Christine! Michael Vincent!"

"Look! There's my parents! And Cam," Christine said, pointing as she spun Michael around.

They half walked half jogged (Michael would call it a wog) over to their family and greeted them excitedly. They hadn't been home in months and Booth hugged his little girl for all she was worth. Brennan attacked Michael and Cam had to pull them both off so that she could have a turn.

"So how's college been," Cam questioned, "Did you ace your finals?"

"Um, yeah, of course," Christine choked with a sidelong glance at Michael. He shook his head slightly from his position with an arm around Brennan's neck. "Why wouldn't we?"

"No reason," Cam replied with a suspicious look in her eye. "Arastoo sends his love and says he can't wait to see you both, but he and Wendell are working on a case tonight. Wendell also said that you guys better be ready to play hockey, because he's been practicing."

Christine and Michael both snorted. Wendell and Booth had taught them how to play as kids, but it had been years since their teachers had been able to beat them.

"How's my mom," Michael interjected quickly. "Do they know what's wrong with her?"

Booth shook his head and patted the scrawny boy on the shoulder.

"They just finished doing a uh….Bones, what's the word?"

"Endoscopy."

"Right, an endoscopy. They said we could go see her, a few at a time, after she wakes up."

Michael nodded solemnly.

"Hey, she's alright," Booth comforted. "She's been giving your dad hell all day."

Michael couldn't help but grin.

"I bet so. She's gonna kill me for not answering my phone."

"If your dad doesn't get ahold of you first. He was ready to strangle you last night," Cam informed him.

"I'm still ready to strangle you."

Hodgins' voice appeared suddenly behind them, causing Michael and Christine to jump.

"Hey, buddy," Hodgins smiled. "Welcome home."

Michael crashed into his father, hugging him as tightly as possible.

"Dad….I'm sorry I didn't answer," he said guiltily.

"Don't worry about it. You're here now, right?" Hodgins patted him on the back before wrapping Christine in a bear hug. "Thanks for taking care of my kid."

"Just doing my job," she laughed. "How is she?"

Hodgins stared at her, seeming to contemplate his answer. His silence set Christine's nerves on edge and she knew Michael was freaking.

"She's doing better," he finally decided. "Her fever's lowered and uh….she's holding down some fluids."

He ran a hand through his curly mop, a habit Michael Vincent had picked up. Christine noticed, for the first time, the dark circles forming under his bloodshot eyes. He looked exhausted.

"She's asking for both of you," he said as he motioned behind him. "Ready to go see her?"

Both kids followed him down the hall in silence. Christine was confused at how nervous she was and from the look on his face, Michael was too. Why were they so freaked out? It was just Angela. She'd been there for all of them whenever they'd found themselves in a hospital bed. When the bomb exploded and Hodgins was temporarily paralyzed, she never left his side. Even as a kindergartener, that had stuck out to Christine. When she was thirteen, her appendix ruptured while her parents were out of town. Angela let her lay in her lap as Hodgins sped to the emergency room. And when Michael was in that terrible car wreck last year…. Christine shuddered, remembering the accident and the nightmares that followed. She had been in that wreck, too, only she walked away and Michael didn't.

Hodgins stopped at one of the several standard, grey, hospital doors that lined the hallway and, after knocking softly, pushed the door open.

"Angie," he called. "I brought some hitchhikers to see you."

"Hey sweeties," came the weak response.

Angela laid under several quilts, brought to her to relieve the chills. Her head was propped up on bleached pillows and IV's ran out of both arms. Christine dropped her backpack on a chair and hugged Angela gently. Michael wasn't far behind.

"We were so worried about you!" Christine told her. "We felt terrible that we didn't get the messages earlier!"

"Don't worry about it. I was too busy to notice anyway," she winked with a grin.

After hugging Michael, Angela held held him close to her, pulling off his hood. She squinted up at him with a concerned look in her eyes.

"Michael Vincent, you look terrible! Have you eaten at all today?"

"Mom," he whined, trying to pull away from her, but it was to no avail. Even sick, Angela still had the super strength that so many moms possess.

"Christine?" Angela shifted her gaze.

"He ate a granola bar….this morning," she offered and Michael shot her a death glare.

"Go downstairs and get something to eat. Right now, Michael," she demanded.

"I can take care of myself, Mom," Michael whined again although a smile was spreading quickly across his face.

"Then prove it. Move. Go. Don't make me count to three."

They both kissed her before slipping out, Hodgins hitting the kids on top of the head with some papers as they passed. As soon as the door shut, Angela's smile faded and Hodgins sat beside her, taking both of her hands in his.

"Still feel terrible?"

Angela nodded slowly, the motion making her head spin. Hodgins kissed her hands.

"You're a great mom you know that? They love you so much," he said, staring deeply into her beautiful brown eyes.

"Thanks," she whispered. "But I may have to eventually kill our son."

Hodgins chuckled, "Perfectly fine with me."

A knock suddenly rang on the door, startling them both. A tall man dressed in scrubs gently pushed the door open, allowing the bright hallway lights to temporarily illuminate the dark room.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hodgins," the man said as he pulled up a chair, "My name is Doctor Bridges."

The doctor reached across the bed to shake both of their hands. His were cold, like ice cubes, and dry from washing them several times an hour. He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts before he spoke. Then he sighed.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news."