(Untitled)

[bugsandslime]

Hodgins knows he should have been home hours ago.

After visiting Zach, he had been oddly reluctant to go home. Which was stupid, he knew. And he knew Angela would be waiting for him. But after an hour of being able to pretend things were normal again, it was hard to go back to life being strained and disjointed-even the good parts

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[bringonthe1der]

Angela pretty much expected him to be later than he said, but she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been listening for a car for the last hour or so.

And having heard the car arrive, she waits to hear the door open. And when, after five minutes, she hasn't, Angela goes downstairs and out to the driveway.

She lets herself into the car, sits in the passenger seat, and waits.

[bugsandslime]

Hodgins doesn't even lift his gaze from the center of the steering wheel.

He does work up a smile. A faint one. But he's trying.

"Hey," he says, quietly.

"You need a lift?" he asks, after a long pause.

When did talking to people get so hard?

[bringonthe1der]

She doesn't ask should you be driving?

"Maybe I just like sitting in parked cars," she says.

She'll wait for him to get to everything when (if?) he wants to.

[bugsandslime]

"Parking works."

He tries to muster up a laugh. It doesn't go well.

"Any minute now some bored cop will come tap on the windows and tell us kids to run on home--we're out past curfew."

[bringonthe1der]

"If he does, you can tell him to get off your lawn."

She reaches out one hand and rests it against his cheek.

[bugsandslime]

"True."

Hodgins doesn't even mean to lean into her hand. It's just a natural response. Protons and electrons.

"Was your day okay?"

[bringonthe1der]

"It was okay, yeah," she says. "Took a long bath, called Dad, tried decide how I felt about the painting with all the green in it."

She pauses.

"Yours?"

[bugsandslime]

"That sounds good. Yeah, there's a lot of green in that one. How's your Dad?"

Hodgins looks back down at the steering wheel.

"Mine was....it's.....yeah."

Is he eloquent or what?

[bringonthe1der]

"He's fine. Busy, but that's hardly news."

All right, time to talk about the elephant in the corner.

"How was Zach?"

[bugsandslime]

"He's, um..."

Hodgins laughs a little.

"You know. He's Zach."

While he had been there, Hodgins had been happy to find that Zach was still just Zach. Now, from a distance, he can't tell if he's happy, or if it's just wrong on so many levels.

In reality, it's a mix of both.

"We spent most of the time talking about electrical conductivity and polymers and atomic weights."

[bringonthe1der]

"And how are you?"

[bugsandslime]

"I'm fine."

The answer comes quickly.

Too quickly for there to be a lot of truth behind it.

[bringonthe1der]

"Jack," she says.

That's all, just Jack.

Because she knows him well enough to know that he knows her well enough to know that Jack, in this case, means, I know you too well to believe that, sweetie.

[bugsandslime]

Yeah. He knows that she knows that he's lying.

But what else is he supposed to say? Wax poetic about how much this situation sucks? They both know that already.

"I'm fine," he says again.

Not looking her in the eye.

"I'm, uh....I'm going to have to find a good steady source of periodicals. And puzzles. You know how he tears through stuff like that."

[bringonthe1der]

There's a whole lot of what are you supposed to say going on here.

And you can't -- you just can't -- say something like I'm worried that you're going to pour too much of yourself into trying to save your best friend and it terrifies me.

Can you?

Angela just nods.

This is . . .

[bugsandslime]

"Hey, maybe I should take some paint. Art therapy. Which I'm sure he'd find completely illogical."

He's striving for cheery. And the strain in his voice shows.

But doctors like art therapy, right?