A Man of Odd Enthusiasms

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.

It had taken him a long time just to turn the key in the ignition. Then he had taken the scenic route home. And there may have been a bar—an out of the way dive—that he had stopped at for a little while.

And now he is sitting in the car in the driveway, outside of the house.

He’ll go in. Any minute now.

Gormogon’s apprentice is in the lab.

Up until now, there had been half-assed rumors to that effect. Ghost stories told around the water cooler and coffee maker—theories that lab techs came up with to pass the time. But now, with Zach in the hospital and the silver skeleton stolen right out from under their noses, there’s no longer any doubt.

Gormogon’s apprentice is here.

And Hodgins is officially tired of the looks he is getting.

Yes, he’s known for being a conspiracy theorist. And yes, people know he has a problem with authority. People have been matching his name with Gormogon’s, on and off, for months now.

He had just laughed it off before. He may even have enjoyed the notoriety a bit.

But now? Knowing that some people he’s worked with for years think he’s capable of arranging an accident that had blown his friend’s hands halfway off so that his ‘master’ could sneak in and take back his grisly artwork?

Hodgins hopes that no one can tell exactly how much that hurts.

He also hopes that no one can tell how scared he’s getting. Because it’s almost like that little bit of amusement he got out of being suspected of being Gormogon’s apprentice is coming back to bite him in the ass, now. Because the evidence keeps swinging around to point at him.

And if his colleagues are looking at him, they could miss the real thing. And someone else could get hurt.

And it’s not just the lab techs, now. His own team is having their doubts. The way Cam jumped when he appeared in her office was proof enough of that.

But Hodgins had sucked it up. Because he had information, and his boss needed to know.

“I pulled trace elements from the mandible and ran them through the mass spectrometer to see what he bone was boiled in. It was tap water. But see this spike?” Hodgins pointed to the one glaring anomaly in his findings. Lead. A lot of it.

“I thought the city had to replace all their lead pipes,” Cam said.

“They did, but individual homeowners didn’t. I focused on neighborhoods with the highest lead levels. Older homes were the worst offenders.” Hodgins kept his voice and his face carefully neutral as he pulled a map up on the computer screen, the relevant section shaded in blue. “This neighborhood matches the level of lead found in the victim’s bone.

Cam wasn’t as good at matching his deadpan. “Isn’t that your house?”

Better to lay it all out on the table. But Hodgins could feel his teeth trying to grit together as he answered. “Yes. It is. But there are other people who live in that area too.”

Cam promised to pass the information on to the investigators (as soon as he was out of sight, Hodgins was sure). Her hand was going for her phone, even as she looked up to see Hodgins still standing by her desk.

“Is there anything else?” she asked.

“I could have fudged the facts. Could have left my neighborhood out.”

“Yes,” Cam said bluntly, “but that would have raised suspicion if someone had double checked your results.”

Which she knew Hodgins was smart enough to have figured out. And her look told him clearly that he was still not above suspicion.

Hodgins bit down some piece of half-formed sarcasm.

“If you need me, I’ll be at my station. Helping,” he said, pointedly.

The hell of it is that, Hodgins knows, if he was in her place, he’d probably suspect him too.

Angela is missing out on some serious courtroom drama.

Granted, Angela has also been the cause of some serious courtroom drama, so maybe it all balances out.

Still, even Angela's refusal to testify may be trumped by the fact that it looks like the prosecution has the wrong murder weapon. What looked like an open and shut case has now been opened up for reinvestigation.

Hodgins is practically radiating I have news! when the officer shows him into the jail.

Hodgins is at his workstation running silt profiles. Tedious and uninteresting at the best of times, it doesn’t help that the medico-legal lab is basically dead today (if one will forgive the expression). The only thing resembling excitement is that the lab alarms have apparently gone on the fritz, sending up an alert even though there’s no one there.

Two of the security guards are fiddling with the alarm controls.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Hodgins hears one them say. “I’ll put in a call to maintenace. There’s no reason for it to be going off.”

At least the side play relieves a little of the monotony.

Hodgins made his escape out of the elegantly appointed doors of Sunny Day Weddings with far more haste than dignity. Never in his life had he been so relieved to get a message that a body had just been brought into the lab.

He had expected his drop-in visit at the wedding coordinator’s office to be a little on the awkward side. After all, Bride & Groom Flee Ceremony probably hadn’t been on the agenda. His plan had been to hand the check over to the secretary with a, “I hear everyone had a really great time—thanks for all your hard work,” and be on his way.

Instead he had found himself seated in a spindly floral chair while Sunny Kitrick herself (a polished woman in her early thirties wearing a sweater set and pearls) fell over herself apologizing for whatever she might have done that had displeased him and Angela to the point that they were no-shows at their own reception.

Hodgins had been half afraid that she was going to commit Hara Kari with a filigreed silver letter opener right in front of him.

“With only a week to pull things together, Mr. Hodgins, I know that we may have had to compromise slightly on some of the details. I am so sorry—I should have kept you better informed of--”

“No. No really—that had nothing to do with it.”

“If the colors of the flowers for the church were a bit off--”

“I wasn’t really paying much attention, but I’m sure they were awesome.” Hodgins had been way too focused on Angela to remember whether or not there had even been flowers at the church.

“The chef may have had to make some very minor substitutions on the food for the reception, but I can assure you--”

“We never actually made it to the reception, but we’re told that the food was great.” True enough. Booth had been very enthusiastic on the subject once he’d left off giving Hodgins a hard time.

It had taken all of his restraint to hold back a very earnest, It’s not you. It’s me.

“Really, you did a great job with the whole wedding thing. Excellent. There was just a minor bigamy issue. Well, not really a bigamy issue,” he’d added hastily, laughing a bit (mostly at the horrified expression on Sunny’s face). “There was no actual bigamy.” Close only counted in horse shoes and hand grenades. “Just a minor technical snag—it was a great wedding, really, with the flowers and…..the flowers….and stuff.”

At which point his phone had gone off.

“…and that swoopy purple stuff and those pew bows…..” Hodgins fished his phone out of his pocket and read the text on the screen. “…and we have a corpse so I have to run, but it was really a pleasure working with you and thank you for everything. I’ll show myself out—have a good day!”

Maybe once they got Angela’s first marriage annulled and could get married themselves, he could talk her into a Vegas elopement, Hodgins reflected. Elvis impersonators being a lot less scary than wedding coordinators.

It's generally frowned upon to sneak up on people in a lab. Too many volatile chemicals lying around and too much delicate equipment.

And Hodgins has never been able to get a good startled jump out of Zach anyway, so there's really no point in trying.

"Zaaaach," he calls from the door of the exam room before coming in.

All of his friend's attention is focused on the skull of their latest victim, like it holds the anwers to the mysteries of the universe--or at least the case.

Hodgins can appreciate that, but it's a different sort of answer he's looking for at the moment.

Who needs to think about being being best man in your friend's wedding? But that's what Zach had said the first time Hodgins had asked him.

Of course given that it's Zach, he probably shouldn't be surprised that he'd wanted to think about it.

Opening: Restaurant

Hodgins (clearly a little nervous): “How—how are you feeling?”

Angela: “What do you mean?”

Hodgins: “It’s a good meal. Nice bottle of wine. You feel loving?”

Angela: “You didn’t need to do all of this to get me in a loving mood.”

Hodgins: “I don’t mean in that way. I am madly in love with you, Angela. You—you are the most amazing woman that I have ever met. My life is so much better since we—“

Angela: “Oh my God.”

Hodgins (taken aback): “What?”

Angela: “Are you breaking up with me?”

Hodgins: “Why would I get you all dressed up for dinner just to break up?”

Angela: “I don’t know (laughs). Because you’re—I’m not thinking straight. Go ahead.”

Hodgins: “You know, I had this all laid out in my mind.”

Angela: “Mm-hmm.”

Hodgins (not really upset): “You are an upsetting woman.”

Angela: “I’m sorry.”

Hodgins: [chuckles]

Angela: “Please, go ahead.”

[Hodgins takes out ring box and slides it across the table]

Hodgins: “I believe that if two people care enough about each other the rest of the world disappears to them. I feel that when I’m with you.”

[Angela opens box and smiles]

Hodgins: “I’m prepared to put you ahead of me for the rest of my life.[pause] Angela Montenegro, will you marry me?”

"I need you to help me pull a little con on the wife."

Hodgins had a sinking feeling that he was in trouble as soon as Booth said it. Not that he thought that Booth suspected, at that point, that Hodgins had a personal relationship with the Bancrofts. But the man was like a walking lie detector. And he wanted Hodgins to help 'pull a con' on his former fiancee.

At the Bancroft mansion, Hodgins excused himself to go look around the study as quickly as he possibly could, while Booth and Clarissa talked in the other room. He was supposed to be looking for a possible source for the muskrat hair that had been found on Terry's body. Hodgins already knew he wouldn't find one in the study. Muskrat hair was not that widely used a product, and the inventory of the study (which he'd already reviewed) had been very thorough.

So instead he puttered in what he hoped was an official looking manner and eavesdropped on the conversation in the den.

He actually winced when he heard Clarissa ask, "What kind of doctor is Jack?" But when Booth merely answered the question and moved on, he began to relax a little.

He was a little saddened, but not totally surprised, to hear that Clarissa had cheated on Terry. Hey, if it had happened once, right? He also wasn't surprised that Terry had hung in and committed to working it out. That had always been Terry's way.

When Booth asked the 64 Thousand Dollar Question, he did so almost casually.

"How'd you know Dr. Hodgins's first name?"

At that point, honorable surrender seemed like a more viable option than having Booth march into the study, haul him out by the scruff of the neck, and make him explain himself at gunpoint.

"Just tell him, Clarissa."

It had been bad. It had been really bad.

"I ought to arrest you for tampering with evidence. When this goes to trial, you are in Ibiza or Antarctica on vacation," Booth said, jerking open the door of the car. "Start looking for another job!"

It was a long, silent, very tense drive back to the Jeffersonian.

And it wasn't over. There were still Brennan, Cam, and Angela to face. And the fact that the tell-tale muskrat hair pointed directly to a likely suspect only increased Booth's ire.

"Good job, Hodgins!" Brennan said, enthusiastically.

"No, not 'Good job, Hodgins'. He might have blown the entire case."

That brought the mood down pretty damn fast.

"What happened?"

"Look, I don't care what he does in his time off, but when he screws around with evidence to get into the pants of an old girlfriend on one of my murder cases, that's a problem."

As parting shots went, it was about as spiteful as you could get, Hodgins thought. Especially with Angela standing right there. And the hell of it was, there wasn't anything he could say in his defense. No, he hadn't done what he did in some insane attempt to get back with Clarissa. Hadn't even thought of it. He hadn't been motivated by anything other than the fact that the three of them--Hodgins, Terry, and Clarissa--had all been friends, a very long time ago.

But he had lied about his connection to the case. And now that that was out, he might have sunk it for everyone.

When Hodgins first hears the news, his immediate thought is, It can't be the same Terry Bancroft.

He hasn't spoken to his old college friend in eight years. At one time, they had been as close as brothers. Before Clarissa had broken off her engagement with Hodgins to take up with Terry. Hodgins had pretty well turned his back on both of them, and most of their mutual friends, after that. And though his bitterness over the betrayal died a long time ago, he has never had any desire to reconnect with them.

But the thing about being part of a wealthy upper class is that you hear a lot about your social peers, whether you want to or not. So Hodgins knows that the Bancroft estate, where a man's badly decomposed body has been found in the study, is indeed Terry and Clarissa's house.

"Is that the Bancroft case?" Hodgins asks Zach, who is studying an enlarged dental x-ray on his computer screen. The computer hums, sorting through the multitude of files in its data banks.

"Yeah," Zach replies, not looking away from his work.

Hodgins picks up the case file (what there is of it) and flips through, not even sure what he is looking for. "Looks like a home invasion/homicide, right?"

Zach glances up momentarily. "Yes. I'm running the dental records now. Cam is finishing up the autopsy."

"But Booth is pretty sure this is Terry Bancroft?"

There is an edge to Hodgins's voice. He can hear it. But he must be covering it well enough, because Zach doesn't seem to take his question as anything other than simple interest in their latest case.

"Yes. There was a lot of insect activity. Samples are at your workstation. Also, the extension cord used to tie him up and everything that was on top of his desk."

"He was tied up?"

"His heart was perforated," Cam says, coming in fresh from the morgue. "But there’s no blood in the thoracic cavity."

"He was stabbed after he was already dead?" Hodgins has never, by any strech of the imagination, been a squeamish person. His chosen career has him filtering though decomposed organic matter and excrement, sorting through garbage, and plucking insects from corpses on a daily basis. There is no rational reason why this should turn his stomach.

But it does.

"What...what killed him?"

"The jugular was punctured," Cam replies. "Multiple stabs are congruent with killers jacked on crystal meth, or just plain adrenaline."

"Why kill him?" Terry--the Terry that Hodgins had known--was smarter than to have tried to fight back against someone robbing him.

Cam shakes her head. "No sign of forced entry. He probably knew his attackers."

There is a tell-tale beep from the computer, and Zach turns back to the screen. "We have a match," he says. "Confirmed—Terence Bancroft."

The picture that is pulled up from the database is undeniably Terry. An older Terry, to be sure. The hairline has moved north, the face is a little heavier and creased. But it is still the man who, once upon a time, had been his friend.

"He knew his killers?" Hodgins asks quietly.

Unfortunately, Cam is a little swifter on the uptake when it comes to reading emotion than Zach is.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

Hodgins pulls his eyes away from the screen and looks at Cam. And in that split second he makes a decision. "Yes. Yeah, absolutely. I’ll, uh...I’ll get on insect analysis right away."

He hurries out of the room before Cam can press the issue. There is a case to solve, evidence waiting, and Hodgins knows that he is the best person to work it. And if anyone finds out that he had once had a personal relationship with the victim (or in this case both the victim and his wife) he'll be taken off the case faster than a politician forgets campaign promises.

Conflict of interest, they call it.

Right now his only interest is to find out who killed Terry.

But first he takes a quick detour to Limbo. He seriously needs a moment to brace himself and put on his game face before facing what's waiting at his workstation.

A moment and a stiff drink.