"Z.E.S.?" Is that….is that bad?" Hodgins questioned.

The doctor flipped a page on a nearby clipboard before continuing.

"Zollinger-Ellison Syndrome is also known as Gastrinoma," he said solemnly, never breaking eye contact with Hodgins. Gastrinomas are extremely rare tumors caused by genetic mutations in G cells that are found in the stomach, liver, and ovaries." He switched his gaze over to Angela. "The extra acid generated by the tumors in your stomach is what caused the abdominal pain and vomiting. It's also the reason why your body rejected the medicine and you've been recurrently sick these past few months."

The doctor paused a moment, waiting for the information to sink in.

"Any questions before I continue?"

"Angie has cancer….," Hodgins mumbled, trying to process what he was hearing as he leaned back against his chair.

He didn't know if he was asking a question or making a statement, but the room was suddenly smoldering him and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

"Well if they're tumors can't you operate? Take them out in some way? There's gotta be some kind of surgery tha-..."

"I'm very sorry Doctor Hodgins," the doctor interrupted. But the MRI we ran on Angela shows the tumors have spread to her liver and surrounding lymph nodes. The tumors are large and extremely aggressive. There's nothing that we can do. "

"How long?" Angela interrupted.

She spoke solemnly, her voice unwavering. Running a hand subtly over her husband's leg, she grasped his sweaty palm.

"Judging from the aggressiveness of the tumors, we suspect they may have begun growing anywhere from four to six months ago. But um," the doctor gulped, shaking his head earnestly, "Sometimes symptoms just don't appear until much later and..."

"No, I meant…" Angela glanced over at her husband who was staring back at her with eyes the color of the Pacific. "I meant….how much longer do I have?"

"Angie," she heard him whisper. She turned to him, strengthening her hold on his hand.

"We need to know," she nodded. "We need something to tell Michael."

Hodgins shook his head and looked away. His heart ached as he felt the ground being pulled out from under him.

"How long," she asked once more, this time, her voice faltering almost unnoticeably. Almost.

The doctor sighed and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Six months," he replied after deep consideration. "Hopefully longer but…."

Angela nodded.

"I understand."

The young doctor stood slowly, backing towards the door.

"I'll give you the room. I'm really very sorry to have to give you this news. Let me know if I can do anything."

Angela smiled sadly and nodded her thanks. After the door closed, she turned to her husband who sat silently next to her, taking in the terrible news.

"It's going to be okay," she tried to choke out, but her throat felt tight and tears were stinging her bloodshot eyes. "I'm strong."

Hodgins felt his heart breaking.

"We're going to get through this," she sobbed. "Right?"

Tears began to stream from her tired eyes and Hodgins wrapped his arms around her.

"Of course we are, Babe."

He leaned his head against hers as tears of his own began to fall.

"I'm scared," she sobbed. "I'm scared."

"Shhh it's okay. You're going to be just fine. We're going to be fine," he whispered in her ear as the sound of their cries rang through the hospital room to the skies that wept as well, outside their lonely window.

XXX

"You did too!"

"No I didn't!"

"Christine, I specifically remember we, as children, getting into a pudding eating contest with each other and you ate sixteen cups! You puked and I had to run and get my mom 'cause you wouldn't stop crying! Then I had to explain to her what we'd done. That's why you don't like chocolate pudding."

Christine rolled her eyes at Michael's charming smile.

"Whatever….I won the contest," she said smugly.

"Did you?" Michael asked as he shoved a pudding cup up to her nose.

Christine gagged and pushed it away.

"Didn't think so."

"I'm going to kill you, Michael."

"No you won't," he said with a wink.

"Michael," came a voice from across the cafeteria.

Both kids looked around, searching through the crowds for a familiar face. Christine, spotting her dad, waved him over.

"Hey kiddos," came the deep voice as he sat down at their table. Christine noticed a strange look on her dad's face, but when Michael didn't seem to care, she shrugged it off. "Michael, your parents want to talk to you upstairs."

Michael shot him a suspicious look.

"Okaaay. What about?"

"You'll see when you get there, alright? Move it."

The older man patted him on the back, half pushing him out of his chair. Michael stood slowly, spoon still in hand, but his features had faded into worry.

"Can Chrissy come too?" He tried, gently pushing his uncle's patience. But Booth smiled, trying to put the boy at ease.

"Was that sympathy," Christine questioned to herself.

"I need to talk to her down here. Don't worry, alright. You two will be causing trouble again in a few minutes."

Michael stared blankly at Christine for a few long seconds and she could almost see the gears in his mind, spinning at full speed, before he backed away slowly, turning his back only at the last possible second.

As soon as the scrawny boy disappeared out of the cafeteria, Christine began to interrogate her father.

"Dad, what's wrong? What's going on? Why did you separate me and Michael?"

Booth sighed and stared at his little girl for a moment, unsure of how to deliver the news. Then it dawned on Christine.

"What's wrong with Aunt Angie?"