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Hodgins can breathe again.

The trial is over, and Angela is a free woman. Fortunately, His Honor the Ferryman doesn't seem to be holding any grudges.

It had been a quiet (though not necessarily uncomfortable) trip home from the courthouse. Hodgins knows that they probably have stuff to talk about, but it's not the sort of conversation that you have while battling traffic in DC.

When they reach his house, he pauses, his hand on the knob of the front door.

"I feel like I ought to be carrying you across the threshold. Or something. Is that weird?"
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bugsandslime

March 2009

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