bringonthewonder | (no subject)

The thing about living in DC (or just outside of it) is that there's always something you can go and do. And the thing about have Temperance Brennan for a best friend is that sometimes you get dragged off to some of the more improbable ones.

This particular evening, they've been at the Kennedy Center, listening to Estonian Folk Musicians.

It was actually pretty good, though Angela doesn't expect she'll find herself humming any of the tunes over the coming days.

She called Hodgins when the concert ended to say that she and Brennan were going to grab some dinner and then she'd get on the road. The call went to voicemail.

Slightly odd, that, but not worryingly so.

What is rather more worrying is that there's no answer when she yells, "Jack? I'm home." Nor can she find him when she searches the house. She even checks the Bug Cave in the basement.

"Jack?"

The note is on the kitchen table, and reads, in its entirety, My lawyer called about something I need to deal with. Nothing to worry about. I'll be back Friday, Saturday at the latest. Love you, Jack.

She's calling his cell phone again before she even finishes reading it.

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"I'm out at Dulles," Hodgins replies.

"Did you get my note?"

"Ah, yeah, I did. Your not-terribly-informative note."

Angela pauses.

"What's going on, Jack?"

Hodgins glances up at the wall-mounted monitor as the boarding information for the next batch of flights comes up.

"It's just something that came up--kind of short notice--that I need to get taken care of."

"I'll explain everything once I get back. In great detail. I promise."

"Jack, sweetie, why can't you tell me now?

"I mean, this is a little . . ."

Weird. Erratic. Bizarre. Frightening.

"What's so important it couldn't wait till I got home?"

"It's.....it's kind of a surprise," Hodgins replies.

A good one, he hopes. Depending on how this trip goes.

"Everything's fine. I swear."

"Jack, honey . . . just tell me where you're going."

"I'll be back on Friday. Saturday at the outside."

The flight information Hodgins has been waiting for finally scrolls up onto the screen.

"Angie, I need to go. They're starting to board. I'll see you this weekend, okay?"

"Jack . . . dammit . . . "

No, not okay.

So very, very not okay.

"Gotta go. I'll call."

"I love you."

Hodgins quickly closes his phone before Angela can ask any more questions, and gathers up his carry-on.

Hopefully he'll be able to bring something back from this trip that will offset the amount of music he is fixing to face on his return.