Hodgins drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

"Come on. Come on," he pleaded under his breath, silently willing traffic to create a path for him.

D.C. rush hour….the time of the day where tempers increase and I.Q.'s decrease. Creeping along behind a shiny yellow taxi, Hodgins' mind drifted momentarily back to his quiet, peaceful office, void of blaring horns and the blazing sun which which glared off of every passing vehicle. Just as his blood pressure began to lower, the scientist was jerked back to reality, slamming on his brakes to avoid crashing into a darting motorcycle.

Jack's heart raced. "COME ON," he yelled along with a few other choice words and a certain hand gesture that Angela wouldn't let him use in front of Michael.

"Angie….," he thought. After twenty years of marriage, her name still gave him butterflies. His best friend, the woman who could send him into a fury or calm his racing mind with just one word, with one touch….Angela. Through the years, Hodgins had watched his curly hair gray (thank you Michael Vincent) and his skin mellow with age, but not Angie. As beautiful as the day they met, her long dark hair hung just below her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes, the color of a blooming Quercus specimen, still pierced his shielded heart. They could see through his walls, his mask, his fake emotions in a glance and administer the comfort….or correction needed. His heart pounded at the thought of her perfectly-shaped lips, the way she drew the corners up into a smile was enough to melt his resolve on anything and everything.

Hodgins forced himself to stop before he ventured any further. He had finally reached his destination, St. Vincent's hospital. He sped into a parking spot and flung the car door open with a creak. Guilt crept into his mind. Angela had been asking him to fix that for weeks. But he didn't have time to think about that right now, he needed to get inside. Hodgins jogged through the automatic doors and scanned the waiting room for familiar faces.

There they were.

Angie, wearing the purple dress he had bought her last week, lay stretched across a row of cold, metal, hospital seats, her head in her best friend's lap. Brennan, still wearing her blue lab coat, stroked Angela's hair, occasionally brushing over her back. She talked quietly with Agent Aubrey, as he stood solemnly beside them.

"What happened?!"

Hodgins sat down quickly and placed a cautious hand on his wife's lower back, alarmed when she didn't acknowledge him. She was shaking. He searched Dr. Brennan's features for an answer, but she refused to meet his gaze. She was worried.

"Angela seems to have suffered a mild physiological event," Brennan offered.

Hodgins stared, waiting for further explanation, but none came. He silently turned to Aubrey, his voice low and calm.

"What happened, Aubrey?"

He ran a gentle hand over his wife's cheek while the younger man spoke. Angela's face radiated heat and beads of sweat were forming on her forehead.

"I don't even know what happened," he said as he shook his head. "It was so fast. She was fine and explaining something to me about the case, then she was saying she felt dizzy and I barely had time to catch her before she passed out. When she woke up, she wasn't making sense, just talking out of her head, something about Michael V," Aubrey chewed his nails nervously as he peered down from his standing position.

"Angela Hodgins," a nurse called out. Her name echoed off the sterile walls of the Emergency Room.

Brennan lifted Angela's head as Hodgins shook her awake.

"Come on, Angie. Wake up. They called your name," Hodgins whispered as he sat her up.

She opened her eyes groggily and stared at him for a moment before letting her head crash onto his shoulder.

"Whoa, hey," Hodgins smiled pushing her back. "Come on. They're waiting. Can you walk?"

Angela nodded miserably and Hodgins pulled her up, supporting her with a steady arm wrapped around her back.

"Jack," she whimpered almost inaudibly and his heart leapt into his throat.

"I know," he comforted, "I've got you."

Brennan and Aubrey watched helplessly from their waiting room seats as the couple disappeared behind the door. Brennan noticed Aubrey's leg, bouncing incessantly, burning off anxious energy as he undoubtedly worried about his friend. She sat uncomfortably in the midst of her own anxiety, gazing out the window, hoping against her own beliefs for the best, all the while ignoring that nagging feeling which had crept its way into the back of her mind.