To Raise Perhaps, Many Flowers (2/?)
Title: To Raise Perhaps, Many Flowers (2/?)
Fandom: Bones
Rating: NC17 (adult themes, violence, some language)
P/C: Zack, Angela (maybe undertones of Zack/Angela)
Spoilers: None, set in early Season 1
Summary: It was unnerving, knowing other people’s business.
Warning: Serious adult subject matter. Dark. Very, very dark. Possible triggering images/scenarios.
“Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends.”
-Shirley MacLaine
Angela called in with the flu for a week. When Brennan offered to visit her, Angela had vehemently protested. “They can spare me for a little while, but if you got this sick, everything would stop. Send Zack instead. He’ll tell you how I am.”
She felt guilty for lying to Brennan, but she felt as though she had been pissed and shat upon. She felt disgusting and afraid. She rarely left her apartment and when she did, she wore a baseball cap and dark glasses. She supposed she looked like one of those idiot celebrities, trying to hide in plain sight, but she didn’t care. It made her feel safer.
She worried about going back to work with make up over her injuries and the cast on her arm. She couldn’t think of an excuse until Brennan had called her unexpectedly during her one of her ‘sick days’.
“Ange, are you not coming into work because you fell?”
Angela had no idea what to say. “It was Zack. He told me that you feel and broke your wrist and hit your head on concrete. I can’t believe you tried something like skateboarding. Especially while intoxicated. That’s very dangerous.” Angela rolled her eyes at this, coming from a woman who had almost been shot by an FBI sniper. “That damage to your wrist could be permanent if they set it wrong at the hospital.”
Silently, Angela thanked whatever God there was for Zack Addy and his ridiculous cover story. I so owe him…Jesus, after the hospital and this? I should get him a damn parade. She thought of Zack, sitting uncomfortably on a parade float, a paper crown on his head, bearing the words “King of the World” and in parenthesis (Fuck the Lab!), while cheering people threw confetti.
“Yeah, Bren. I was really, really embarrassed that I had gotten so drunk I climbed onto a skateboard. I mean, whatever happened to climbing onto a hot guy?” She stiffened at that last part, a brief flash of the last Friday evening barging into her head. There was a lot she couldn’t remember still. The doctor had told her that she’d had five stitches put into her posterior fourchette, and having taken anatomy classes in art school, this painted an all to perfect picture of what had happened to her. It meant that part of her vagina was sewn up like a baseball because she’d been so torn up.
Brennan sighed. “I wish you had told me. You’re always there for me. I feel like I should reciprocate more.” Angela squeezed her eyes shut. She felt awful.
“Sweetie, I’ve got to go. I was in the middle of cooking my lunch when you called. Bye!” She hung up before Brennan could reply. The truth was, she had to go back to the hospital to view test results and have her facial stitches removed.
She donned a large black hoodie and a pair of cheap, drugstore sunglasses. On top of this she added a Boston Red Sox cap. Placing the cap squarely on her head, she grabbed her keys and opened the front door.
***
Zack watched from his station as Dr. Brennan talked on the phone with Angela. He hoped that she wouldn’t be angry with him for making up an excuse. Brennan had not believed for one minute that Angela had actually gotten the flu. “She sounds fine on the phone!” Dr. Brennan had reiterated over and over.
But that wasn’t what Zack was thinking about. He was thinking about how Dr. Brennan would look at Angela’s wrist. How there would be questions. He thought furiously. Though his English teacher had hated him, Zack had still gotten by with a B+ in Creative Writing. The story about the skateboard was the first thing he had thought of. He felt guilty lying to Dr. Brennan but was secretly glad that it had only been her and not Booth or Hodgins. Zack knew that both of them would have seen through the story immediately.
Dr. Brennan returned to her station, a perplexed look on her face. “Zack?”
“Yes, Dr. Brennan?”
“You said that Angela had a distal radius fracture.” Zack nodded. “Yes.”
“What could she possibly be cooking with only one hand?” She said this more to herself, frowning.
Zack didn’t know what to say to this. Or even if he should say anything. But she didn’t say anything else to him. She kept the frown on her face however.
She suddenly spoke out, startling him. “She didn’t run off to Canada or Mexico with that guy did she? I mean, I don’t think she would tell me about that if she did. She knows how I feel about marriage.”
Zack distractedly answered. “What guy?”
“That guy she was out with last Friday. I don’t remember his name.”
***
Angela hadn’t expected this. She had expected an HIV positive result. An unwanted pregnancy. Even a case of Chlamydia.
But everything was negative. It was as if this giant, life-ruining event had left her unchanged. She was the same as before.
So why don’t I feel the same as before? she wondered.
She thanked the doctor for his time and left the examination room and bam, smacked right into a nurse in the hall. The woman dropped her clipboard, which Angela bent to retrieve. She winced as the stitches between her legs pulled tight. She handed the clipboard back to the nurse, whom she recognized as the woman who had brought Zack into her room as soon as she’d asked for him. Angela had guessed this was against hospital protocols and had been doubly grateful.
“Ms. Montenegro?” the nurse gave her a hesitant smile. “I was hoping I would catch you. I knew that you would be here to get your test results. I’m Claire.” She held her hand out for Angela to shake.
Angela took it. “Nice to see you again Claire.”
Claire smiled at her. “I wanted to talk to you about something. After the police left, you just dashed out of here. My cousin, Bea, works at a rape-counseling center in Alexandria. I thought that you might-”
Angela cut her off. “I don’t want to-”
“-just want to call the hotline they have set up.” Claire finished. “I know that it’s difficult to ask for help sometimes. Here’s the number. You can call; you can throw it in the garbage. Do what you want.” She turned and walked away. Angela was left there, clutching the number.
Do what you want.
The words rang in her ears.
***
Her first day back in the lab was a disaster.
She had stayed awake the entire night before, unable to shake the fear that she would walk into work and be immediately fired. As all truly deep fears and worries are, it was completely irrational and totally gripping.
She eventually drifted off around three, waking up at six and feeling almost as bad as when she’d gone to sleep. She dragged herself through her morning routine, worried about driving herself. Driving to the hospital a few days earlier had been hell. She could barely control her speed, going slowly and then very quickly, afraid the sky itself was going to fall on her. This morning was no different.
She hated being in the car now. The ceiling felt too low and the road in front of her seemed to be constantly at an angle, giving her an unending sense of vertigo. She had trouble breathing feeling as though the roof of the car was getting lower and lower. She hunched closer to the wheel, trying to keep away from the ceiling and maintain her grip at the same time. The earth is made of glass, she thought. She had heard it somewhere, but had no idea what it meant in context, only that at this particular moment, it was exactly right.
***
Zack anxiously watched the door. Dr. Brennan and Booth had brought in a new case the day before that he and Hodgins were supposed to be working on. Hodgins had already been by three times to tell him to start working. Zack would answer “Sure,” and then continue watching the door, holding the victim’s skull in one hand, his cotton swab in the other.
When Angela finally walked in and saw him, he turned quickly back to his work. But she’d seen him looking. Would she be angry? The stitches in her forehead were gone but she still had the cast. Hodgins came over from his station. “Dude. What happened to Angela’s arm?”
Zack continued to pour over the ocular foramen. “Distal radius fracture.” He tried to act as uninterested as possible, willing Hodgins away. “Well how’d she get it?” Hodgins asked impatiently. Just then, Angela walked up to them. “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”
She smiled, but Zack could see the strain behind it. It was unnerving, knowing other people’s business.
Hodgins smiled back at her. “Hey Ange. Feeling better?”
Angela kept smiling. “Wouldn’t be back at work if I wasn’t.” There was a pause. “I need to talk to Zack.” As she said this, she grabbed his wrist with her good hand and yanked Zack in the direction of her office.
Zack felt this didn’t bode well for anyone involved. He turned back to see Hodgins with a surprised grin on his face. He dropped a wink at Zack that left Zack thoroughly confused.
***
“I just wanted to thank you Zack. I know that this has been hard for you.” Angela could not look him in the eyes. She felt an overwhelming sense of vertigo. She waited for him to leave.
Zack opened his mouth, about to say something.
Suddenly she was completely sure that all he wanted was to fuck her. He was just playing the sweet, innocent, Good Samaritan so that he could wait until she didn’t suspect and then-
Angela closed her eyes, trying to pry these poisonous thoughts from her mind. “Leave, Zack. Right now.”
“Angela-”
“Just. Go.” She said it with what she perceived to be absolute finality. Zack gave her a concerned look (one which made her want to tear out her hair and scream) and complied, leaving her alone in her office.
Fandom: Bones
Rating: NC17 (adult themes, violence, some language)
P/C: Zack, Angela (maybe undertones of Zack/Angela)
Spoilers: None, set in early Season 1
Summary: It was unnerving, knowing other people’s business.
Warning: Serious adult subject matter. Dark. Very, very dark. Possible triggering images/scenarios.
“Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends.”
-Shirley MacLaine
Angela called in with the flu for a week. When Brennan offered to visit her, Angela had vehemently protested. “They can spare me for a little while, but if you got this sick, everything would stop. Send Zack instead. He’ll tell you how I am.”
She felt guilty for lying to Brennan, but she felt as though she had been pissed and shat upon. She felt disgusting and afraid. She rarely left her apartment and when she did, she wore a baseball cap and dark glasses. She supposed she looked like one of those idiot celebrities, trying to hide in plain sight, but she didn’t care. It made her feel safer.
She worried about going back to work with make up over her injuries and the cast on her arm. She couldn’t think of an excuse until Brennan had called her unexpectedly during her one of her ‘sick days’.
“Ange, are you not coming into work because you fell?”
Angela had no idea what to say. “It was Zack. He told me that you feel and broke your wrist and hit your head on concrete. I can’t believe you tried something like skateboarding. Especially while intoxicated. That’s very dangerous.” Angela rolled her eyes at this, coming from a woman who had almost been shot by an FBI sniper. “That damage to your wrist could be permanent if they set it wrong at the hospital.”
Silently, Angela thanked whatever God there was for Zack Addy and his ridiculous cover story. I so owe him…Jesus, after the hospital and this? I should get him a damn parade. She thought of Zack, sitting uncomfortably on a parade float, a paper crown on his head, bearing the words “King of the World” and in parenthesis (Fuck the Lab!), while cheering people threw confetti.
“Yeah, Bren. I was really, really embarrassed that I had gotten so drunk I climbed onto a skateboard. I mean, whatever happened to climbing onto a hot guy?” She stiffened at that last part, a brief flash of the last Friday evening barging into her head. There was a lot she couldn’t remember still. The doctor had told her that she’d had five stitches put into her posterior fourchette, and having taken anatomy classes in art school, this painted an all to perfect picture of what had happened to her. It meant that part of her vagina was sewn up like a baseball because she’d been so torn up.
Brennan sighed. “I wish you had told me. You’re always there for me. I feel like I should reciprocate more.” Angela squeezed her eyes shut. She felt awful.
“Sweetie, I’ve got to go. I was in the middle of cooking my lunch when you called. Bye!” She hung up before Brennan could reply. The truth was, she had to go back to the hospital to view test results and have her facial stitches removed.
She donned a large black hoodie and a pair of cheap, drugstore sunglasses. On top of this she added a Boston Red Sox cap. Placing the cap squarely on her head, she grabbed her keys and opened the front door.
***
Zack watched from his station as Dr. Brennan talked on the phone with Angela. He hoped that she wouldn’t be angry with him for making up an excuse. Brennan had not believed for one minute that Angela had actually gotten the flu. “She sounds fine on the phone!” Dr. Brennan had reiterated over and over.
But that wasn’t what Zack was thinking about. He was thinking about how Dr. Brennan would look at Angela’s wrist. How there would be questions. He thought furiously. Though his English teacher had hated him, Zack had still gotten by with a B+ in Creative Writing. The story about the skateboard was the first thing he had thought of. He felt guilty lying to Dr. Brennan but was secretly glad that it had only been her and not Booth or Hodgins. Zack knew that both of them would have seen through the story immediately.
Dr. Brennan returned to her station, a perplexed look on her face. “Zack?”
“Yes, Dr. Brennan?”
“You said that Angela had a distal radius fracture.” Zack nodded. “Yes.”
“What could she possibly be cooking with only one hand?” She said this more to herself, frowning.
Zack didn’t know what to say to this. Or even if he should say anything. But she didn’t say anything else to him. She kept the frown on her face however.
She suddenly spoke out, startling him. “She didn’t run off to Canada or Mexico with that guy did she? I mean, I don’t think she would tell me about that if she did. She knows how I feel about marriage.”
Zack distractedly answered. “What guy?”
“That guy she was out with last Friday. I don’t remember his name.”
***
Angela hadn’t expected this. She had expected an HIV positive result. An unwanted pregnancy. Even a case of Chlamydia.
But everything was negative. It was as if this giant, life-ruining event had left her unchanged. She was the same as before.
So why don’t I feel the same as before? she wondered.
She thanked the doctor for his time and left the examination room and bam, smacked right into a nurse in the hall. The woman dropped her clipboard, which Angela bent to retrieve. She winced as the stitches between her legs pulled tight. She handed the clipboard back to the nurse, whom she recognized as the woman who had brought Zack into her room as soon as she’d asked for him. Angela had guessed this was against hospital protocols and had been doubly grateful.
“Ms. Montenegro?” the nurse gave her a hesitant smile. “I was hoping I would catch you. I knew that you would be here to get your test results. I’m Claire.” She held her hand out for Angela to shake.
Angela took it. “Nice to see you again Claire.”
Claire smiled at her. “I wanted to talk to you about something. After the police left, you just dashed out of here. My cousin, Bea, works at a rape-counseling center in Alexandria. I thought that you might-”
Angela cut her off. “I don’t want to-”
“-just want to call the hotline they have set up.” Claire finished. “I know that it’s difficult to ask for help sometimes. Here’s the number. You can call; you can throw it in the garbage. Do what you want.” She turned and walked away. Angela was left there, clutching the number.
Do what you want.
The words rang in her ears.
***
Her first day back in the lab was a disaster.
She had stayed awake the entire night before, unable to shake the fear that she would walk into work and be immediately fired. As all truly deep fears and worries are, it was completely irrational and totally gripping.
She eventually drifted off around three, waking up at six and feeling almost as bad as when she’d gone to sleep. She dragged herself through her morning routine, worried about driving herself. Driving to the hospital a few days earlier had been hell. She could barely control her speed, going slowly and then very quickly, afraid the sky itself was going to fall on her. This morning was no different.
She hated being in the car now. The ceiling felt too low and the road in front of her seemed to be constantly at an angle, giving her an unending sense of vertigo. She had trouble breathing feeling as though the roof of the car was getting lower and lower. She hunched closer to the wheel, trying to keep away from the ceiling and maintain her grip at the same time. The earth is made of glass, she thought. She had heard it somewhere, but had no idea what it meant in context, only that at this particular moment, it was exactly right.
***
Zack anxiously watched the door. Dr. Brennan and Booth had brought in a new case the day before that he and Hodgins were supposed to be working on. Hodgins had already been by three times to tell him to start working. Zack would answer “Sure,” and then continue watching the door, holding the victim’s skull in one hand, his cotton swab in the other.
When Angela finally walked in and saw him, he turned quickly back to his work. But she’d seen him looking. Would she be angry? The stitches in her forehead were gone but she still had the cast. Hodgins came over from his station. “Dude. What happened to Angela’s arm?”
Zack continued to pour over the ocular foramen. “Distal radius fracture.” He tried to act as uninterested as possible, willing Hodgins away. “Well how’d she get it?” Hodgins asked impatiently. Just then, Angela walked up to them. “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”
She smiled, but Zack could see the strain behind it. It was unnerving, knowing other people’s business.
Hodgins smiled back at her. “Hey Ange. Feeling better?”
Angela kept smiling. “Wouldn’t be back at work if I wasn’t.” There was a pause. “I need to talk to Zack.” As she said this, she grabbed his wrist with her good hand and yanked Zack in the direction of her office.
Zack felt this didn’t bode well for anyone involved. He turned back to see Hodgins with a surprised grin on his face. He dropped a wink at Zack that left Zack thoroughly confused.
***
“I just wanted to thank you Zack. I know that this has been hard for you.” Angela could not look him in the eyes. She felt an overwhelming sense of vertigo. She waited for him to leave.
Zack opened his mouth, about to say something.
Suddenly she was completely sure that all he wanted was to fuck her. He was just playing the sweet, innocent, Good Samaritan so that he could wait until she didn’t suspect and then-
Angela closed her eyes, trying to pry these poisonous thoughts from her mind. “Leave, Zack. Right now.”
“Angela-”
“Just. Go.” She said it with what she perceived to be absolute finality. Zack gave her a concerned look (one which made her want to tear out her hair and scream) and complied, leaving her alone in her office.