To Raise Perhaps, Many Flowers (3/?)
Title: To Raise, Perhaps, Many Flowers
Chapter: 3
Fandom: Bones
P/C: Zack, Angela (hints of Zangela)
Summary: Angela and Zack grow closer because of Angela's secret.
Part 1, Part 2
“Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”
- Albert Camus
At first, being back wasn’t so bad.
Angela would focus on her drawing, letting the world drift away as she always did. All she could see was the paper before her, the face, the tiny shadows that formed around eyes and the cheek bones that stood out like ice burgs in the sea.
And then something would snap. Someone would walk in to speak with her or there would be a noise from somewhere in the lab. She would start, and whip her head around, suspicious of every dark corner, every hint of movement.
Zack would bring her lunch from wherever she asked. She had become a bit of a shut in, barely seeing the others for days. Brennan would push her about it from time to time. “I just need some space, sweetie,” she’d always answer.
“Space from what?” Brennan demanded. Booth asked no questions, just looked at her, his eyes saying that he knew what had happened. He seemed to be waiting for her to crack. She made a point to avoid him as much as possible. She felt that the only way her secret was safe was staying with the only person who knew.
***
Zack would stay at the Jeffersonian with her, sometimes late into the night, taking the bus back to Hodgins’, operating on the pretense that he was working on his doctorate. She overheard Hodgins telling Booth that one night Zack had come home with no shoes on: he’d been mugged after getting off at the wrong stop. Angela refused to let him take the bus after that, giving him driving lessons in her bright yellow ‘Stang. From time to time, she even encouraged him to sleep on her couch.
One night when he was doing so, Angela had a panic attack. She was sure that Zack had been the person who raped her and that now he was lying in wait, banking on her going to sleep so that he could do it again. She tried to convince herself that this was impossible. Zack had saved her! But she couldn’t shake it and pictured it in her head: Zack throwing her against a wall in a night club so that she hit her head and, when she was dazed, tearing her skirt off, ripping it in the process and raping her violently over the edge of one of the sinks. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hand over her mouth. She dug her nails into the skin on her cheeks, trying to push the vision away. Finally, she got up and walked to the couch in her apartment’s living room.
Zack was asleep, the blanket pulled up to his eyes. She put her hand on him, shaking him gently awake. “Zack,” she said quietly. He rolled over to look at her. “Angela.” He squinted at the clock on the microwave across the countertop in the kitchen. “It’s 3am.” His tone probably wasn’t as accusatory as she heard it in her head. “I’m sorry, Zack…it’s just that…” She suddenly realized how ridiculous her question was. It would be like asking Booth if he had raped her. Or Hodgins. Or Dr. Goodman.
“It’s nothing.” She shook her head and turned to go back to bed. “Alright.” Zack gave her a confused look and rolled over to go back to sleep. He turned back to face her again. “Are you sure?”
Anglea nodded.
*
It was just enough to shake her out of her stupor.
She had thrown away the number that the nurse had given her weeks before, so she flipped through the Yellow Pages looking for it. She didn’t know if anyone would answer so late (or early), but she knew she wasn’t going to sleep, even with Zack lying in the other room, hell, especially with him there. And there it was in Alexandria, only thirty minutes driving from the Jeffersonian. She took a deep breath.
I can do this…
She picked up the phone.
*
Zack woke up around six. He expected Angela to still be asleep.
He made coffee in his jeans and the t-shirt he’d been wearing under a loud Hawaiian shirt the day before. The cold tile felt unpleasant under his bare feet. He pulled down two mugs out of one of the cabinets. It was strange to him that he was getting to know Angela’s apartment so well. He slept there on average about 3.41111113 times a week. He’d calculated after Hodgins had asked, slightly perturbed, slightly teasingly, if they were dating.
This had made Zack feel uncomfortable and almost responsible for what Angela was going through. Angela walked into the kitchen, abruptly ending this train of thought. She looked tired now, even more so then usual.
“Hey, Zack,” she sighed. “Good morning Angela.” Zack threw her a sidelong glance. “Did you sleep?” Most of the time he didn’t ask questions like that. He didn’t want to make it worse for her then it already was. Angela smiled wanly. “That bad huh? I must look like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“Just a bike.”
Zack stared at her, openmouthed. He hadn’t meant to say it. “I…uh…I….”
Angela snorted. “Wow, Zack. You made a little joke. I'm impressed.” She smiled at him. “Pour me a cup of coffee will you?”
All of it, though so different from their life before as Zack thought of it, seemed almost like a return to normalcy. There were very few moments like this between them now, but he knew they were the best ones, the ones he would remember least when all of this was over, if it ever did end. He knew that they would remember the times when Angela couldn’t even stand to look at him or when he had stayed up all night because she was afraid to turn the lights out and he hadn’t wanted her to be alone on a night like that. It was like his memories of high school: the teasing, the rejection, the humiliation were all that remained of it in his mind, even though he knew there had been shining, golden moments then with his friends, though most of them just blurred together like a film he had slept through.
***
Later, when they had arrived at the Jeffersonian, Zack immediately broke off from Angela, telling her to have a good day, that he would see her later. He wanted to avoid looks from Hodgins, who would know that he hadn’t been home the night before and didn’t want evidence of it to spread.
He went to his station and looked over his shoulder to make sure that Angela was in her office and couldn’t see him or what he was doing. He knew she would be furious if she found out. All of a sudden, someone clapped him on the shoulder.
“So. Another night away from the house?” It was Hodgins, ripe with teasing. Zack quickly shoved the papers in his hand into an open drawer at his station. Hodgins didn’t notice.
Chapter: 3
Fandom: Bones
P/C: Zack, Angela (hints of Zangela)
Summary: Angela and Zack grow closer because of Angela's secret.
Part 1, Part 2
“Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”
- Albert Camus
At first, being back wasn’t so bad.
Angela would focus on her drawing, letting the world drift away as she always did. All she could see was the paper before her, the face, the tiny shadows that formed around eyes and the cheek bones that stood out like ice burgs in the sea.
And then something would snap. Someone would walk in to speak with her or there would be a noise from somewhere in the lab. She would start, and whip her head around, suspicious of every dark corner, every hint of movement.
Zack would bring her lunch from wherever she asked. She had become a bit of a shut in, barely seeing the others for days. Brennan would push her about it from time to time. “I just need some space, sweetie,” she’d always answer.
“Space from what?” Brennan demanded. Booth asked no questions, just looked at her, his eyes saying that he knew what had happened. He seemed to be waiting for her to crack. She made a point to avoid him as much as possible. She felt that the only way her secret was safe was staying with the only person who knew.
***
Zack would stay at the Jeffersonian with her, sometimes late into the night, taking the bus back to Hodgins’, operating on the pretense that he was working on his doctorate. She overheard Hodgins telling Booth that one night Zack had come home with no shoes on: he’d been mugged after getting off at the wrong stop. Angela refused to let him take the bus after that, giving him driving lessons in her bright yellow ‘Stang. From time to time, she even encouraged him to sleep on her couch.
One night when he was doing so, Angela had a panic attack. She was sure that Zack had been the person who raped her and that now he was lying in wait, banking on her going to sleep so that he could do it again. She tried to convince herself that this was impossible. Zack had saved her! But she couldn’t shake it and pictured it in her head: Zack throwing her against a wall in a night club so that she hit her head and, when she was dazed, tearing her skirt off, ripping it in the process and raping her violently over the edge of one of the sinks. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hand over her mouth. She dug her nails into the skin on her cheeks, trying to push the vision away. Finally, she got up and walked to the couch in her apartment’s living room.
Zack was asleep, the blanket pulled up to his eyes. She put her hand on him, shaking him gently awake. “Zack,” she said quietly. He rolled over to look at her. “Angela.” He squinted at the clock on the microwave across the countertop in the kitchen. “It’s 3am.” His tone probably wasn’t as accusatory as she heard it in her head. “I’m sorry, Zack…it’s just that…” She suddenly realized how ridiculous her question was. It would be like asking Booth if he had raped her. Or Hodgins. Or Dr. Goodman.
“It’s nothing.” She shook her head and turned to go back to bed. “Alright.” Zack gave her a confused look and rolled over to go back to sleep. He turned back to face her again. “Are you sure?”
Anglea nodded.
*
It was just enough to shake her out of her stupor.
She had thrown away the number that the nurse had given her weeks before, so she flipped through the Yellow Pages looking for it. She didn’t know if anyone would answer so late (or early), but she knew she wasn’t going to sleep, even with Zack lying in the other room, hell, especially with him there. And there it was in Alexandria, only thirty minutes driving from the Jeffersonian. She took a deep breath.
I can do this…
She picked up the phone.
*
Zack woke up around six. He expected Angela to still be asleep.
He made coffee in his jeans and the t-shirt he’d been wearing under a loud Hawaiian shirt the day before. The cold tile felt unpleasant under his bare feet. He pulled down two mugs out of one of the cabinets. It was strange to him that he was getting to know Angela’s apartment so well. He slept there on average about 3.41111113 times a week. He’d calculated after Hodgins had asked, slightly perturbed, slightly teasingly, if they were dating.
This had made Zack feel uncomfortable and almost responsible for what Angela was going through. Angela walked into the kitchen, abruptly ending this train of thought. She looked tired now, even more so then usual.
“Hey, Zack,” she sighed. “Good morning Angela.” Zack threw her a sidelong glance. “Did you sleep?” Most of the time he didn’t ask questions like that. He didn’t want to make it worse for her then it already was. Angela smiled wanly. “That bad huh? I must look like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“Just a bike.”
Zack stared at her, openmouthed. He hadn’t meant to say it. “I…uh…I….”
Angela snorted. “Wow, Zack. You made a little joke. I'm impressed.” She smiled at him. “Pour me a cup of coffee will you?”
All of it, though so different from their life before as Zack thought of it, seemed almost like a return to normalcy. There were very few moments like this between them now, but he knew they were the best ones, the ones he would remember least when all of this was over, if it ever did end. He knew that they would remember the times when Angela couldn’t even stand to look at him or when he had stayed up all night because she was afraid to turn the lights out and he hadn’t wanted her to be alone on a night like that. It was like his memories of high school: the teasing, the rejection, the humiliation were all that remained of it in his mind, even though he knew there had been shining, golden moments then with his friends, though most of them just blurred together like a film he had slept through.
***
Later, when they had arrived at the Jeffersonian, Zack immediately broke off from Angela, telling her to have a good day, that he would see her later. He wanted to avoid looks from Hodgins, who would know that he hadn’t been home the night before and didn’t want evidence of it to spread.
He went to his station and looked over his shoulder to make sure that Angela was in her office and couldn’t see him or what he was doing. He knew she would be furious if she found out. All of a sudden, someone clapped him on the shoulder.
“So. Another night away from the house?” It was Hodgins, ripe with teasing. Zack quickly shoved the papers in his hand into an open drawer at his station. Hodgins didn’t notice.