The Intern with the Cold - (2 Parts)

[Spoo]

What’s this...?

Spoo wrote something and actually decided to POST IT this time...? Blasphemy!

Haha, I actually have Maru-chan to thank for inspiring me to play with the Bones fandom. My ex-boyfriend got me into the actual show about three months ago, and I’ve been crazy!obsessed ever since. I’m totally in LOVE with the characters and their developments. They're fantastic!

And so, I’ve decided to pick on my absolute favorite character (despite what occurred in season three...), Mr. Zack Addy. He’s adorable, really, and I want to do terrible, terrible things to him…Hodgins is definitely awesome as well! But enough of my pathetic fangirl ramblings, damnit! I’ve got the first chapter of what can possibly be more here - depends if I have time around my recently-established college life. So, for all who love the series as much as I do, enjoy!

Title: The Intern with the Cold. (You'd have to watch Bones to get the title. )

Author: Spoo.

Fandom: Bones.

Rating: PG-13. For language, of course. No sex for you!

Setting: Mm... somewhere in the beginning of season two, perhaps? Quite.

Summary: Zack's sick, which leaves his colleagues at the Jeffersonian just a bit...concerned?

~*~

Chapter 1

The vibrantly green numbers displayed that it was a little past seven, but Jack Hodgins wasn’t entirely convinced. His wristwatch said otherwise, as did the radio, so it was more than reasonable to assume the damn clock by the speedometer was bullshitting him. Not that he cared about that or anything. In fact, his main focus was currently elsewhere. Usually by this point in the morning he’d be halfway to the Jeffersonian Institute with a bout of babbling words flowing in from his right. However, there was an unusual problem in this everyday procedure. The source to his earful of pre-coffee hearings was absent from the front seat, where the rambling itself originated.

Hodgins wisely assumed that his tenant was either dead or already at work somehow due to the fact that he had yet to bound down the stairs to the awaiting car that was parked just outside of his apartment. When no response roused from the repetitive blares of the horn, which were easily loud enough to be heard for a good half a mile, the scruffy entomologist sighed, sat back, and removed both the key and himself from the ridiculously expensive vechile.

The morning was unpleasantly crisp and it threatened to imbed an infectious chill between each individual spinal disk. With his numbing hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, Hodgins jogged the length of the stubby steps and halted before a door at the top. Curiously, as if to prove his earlier assumption, he pressed a red-tipped ear against the door itself and listened for any signs of life. When nothing of immediate interest occurred, he pulled back and rapped the elevated bridge of his knuckles against the well-kept wood.

“You in there, Zackaroni?” he called, projecting his voice loud enough to be heard from the inside.

No response.

Again, Jack tried: “It’s not exactly a day in the Bahamas out here, man. I’m kinda freezing!” When that didn’t work either, as he already figured it wouldn’t, he provided an almost dramatic sigh and sifted through the many keys that encircled his worn out keychain. Eventually, when he arrived at the spare to the dwelling he stood before, he carefully inserted the jagged metal in its proper place and turned it to the left.

The door opened.

Quickly, he stepped into the welcoming warmth and shut the door behind him, denying the persistent weather that threatened to follow him indoors. Considering the fact that he knew this abode all too well from many a previous visit, he crossed the front room and strode down the hallway like it was nobody’s business. His journey ended a foot short of the bedroom, where it would have appeared the door was open, yet no movement stirred within the space itself.

“Zack…?” A bit on the confused side, Hodgins peeked a curious eye into the dimmed room.

There, curled on the bed like the awkward child he often mimicked in means of social behavior, lay Zack Addy. From what could be observed around the fact that a half-covered back faced the door (the other half of his shirt was scrunched upwards, revealing a freckled path of skin), it was noticed that the sleeping other had been in the process of getting up and dressed. Though, it seemed as if he had changed his mind somewhere in between, and thus collapsed back onto the bed in a long-sleeved gray shirt and flannel drawstring pajama bottoms.

From the looks of it Zack was really out, too.

“Jeez,” Hodgins muttered, scratching a handful of calloused fingers into the curly wisps of his hair, “and I thought I had a hard night.”

“…I spent most of it suffering from frequent lung spasms…”

The older man took a step back, having not expected the sudden introduction of a voice. When his mind had processed that Zack had not been asleep in the first place, he smiled and folded his arms across his chest. “‘Lung spasms’, eh? Care to elaborate?”

“I was coughing. There was also heavy congestion and the unrelenting f-feeling…hh!”

A sudden shift took to the figure on the bed. Slender, though supportive shoulders lifted, followed by a sharp intake of breath, before the body bent inward with a shuddering, breath-like, “Hp’TSShuu!”

Soft, delicate, yet more than it seemed - as if describing the very man who had expelled it.

“Ahhhh. I see what’s going on here,” Hodgins analyzed, nodding towards the back he continued to stare at. “You, my fine friend, are below par.”

“I wasn’t aware we were playing golf…”

“It’s a saying, Captain Literal. You’re sick. Must have caught what was going around last week.”

“Judging by the nature and progression of my symptoms, I’d assume it’s nothing more than a rhinoviral infection.”

“Yeah, a cold.”

“Unfortunately."

Hodgins made a face and suddenly regretted his decision to simply enter the house without prior approval. “Well gee, thanks for the heads-up,” he annoyingly quipped. “The least you could have done was called me before I dragged my ass all the way up here to see if you were still alive. Now I’m probably covered in your damn germs.”

“Mnnn…I doubt I’ll be of much assistance in this condition to Dr. Brennan. I would more than likely contaminate any remains with the unpredictability of my bodily expulsions…” Sniff!

“Right. I’ll go ahead and call in to let them know you’re not going to be able to come in today, all right? You just take it easy for now,” his companion suggested, fishing in his pocket for his cell.

For the first time in what felt like hours, Zack persuaded his tired body to move more than an inch and lift into a poorly-orchestrated sit. Something moist and shimmering lay just behind his slender nostrils, which were chapped and irritated, though it was hardly any less severe then his glassy, half-mast eyes and pinkish cheeks. “I’ve never missed a day in the entirety of my internship,” he commented, pressing the back of his sleeved wrist against the drippings that threatened to leave their home in his nose the moment he changed positions.

“There’s a first time for everything, amigo. It’s best you kick this cold’s ass before it kicks yours. And from the looks of it,” Hodgins observed, tossing his pal the box of Kleenex from the dresser, “it’s winning so far.”

As the shabby-haired man stepped out of the room to speak on the phone, Zack offered a silent glance at the tissues that was almost accusing. He understood the biology behind falling ill, yes, but not why it had chosen to target his particular immune system. His critical thoughts were interrupted when an unknown irritant pricked at the sensitive membranes within his nose, causing the appendage to twitch once, twice, before the inevitable found itself buried into a hastily snatched tissue.

“Mm’ptssh!--hh'nxtSHH!!” The stifled double left the young intern drained and dizzy with all but pleasant pulses traveling to his fevered head. With a quieted groan, he tenderly nursed at his sore nose in gentle strokes and dabs of the tissue.

A minute later, Hodgins walked back into the room.

“You’re cleared,” he reported, which brought a tired pair of brown eyes to gaze at him. “Cam says to get better quick because they need your mad skills at identifying the latest victim’s murder weapon.”

“Understood,” Zack snuffled, watching as the older male took half a step back.

“I’m gonna take off now. Anything you need before I jet?”

“A cure to the common cold would be nice.”

“Riii-hight. I’ll work on that in my spare time today,” Hodgins laughed, turning to leave the room.

“I hope you know,” Zack continued, with a slight elevation of his thickened voice, “my absence doesn’t provide you with an advantage in reference to King of the Lab…”

A lopsided grin took to Jack’s face as he crossed the room and stood beside the bed. “Fine, but I’m only cutting you a break today. Come tomorrow, sick or not, it’s on, brother.”

“Agreed.”

A hand extended towards the sick one, as if requesting for a handshake, though it quickly retracted when its owner rethought the whole ‘contact’ issue (given the current circumstance and all). Instead, the particulates specialist offered an odd little salute and turned on his heel to finally exit, leaving Zack with only a worsening cold for company.

~TBC?~

[ilovesneezing]

YES!!!!

[Bongo]

I'm impressed. You found the time to write an awesome story and I barely had time to look up the character and read it. Good job, I liked it.

[Spoo]

I'm impressed. You found the time to write an awesome story and I barely had time to look up the character and read it. Good job, I liked it.

Thank you very much. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

I should be good to write more soon, so hopefully a second installation will be up in the near future.

[stargazer]

Oh, I really adore Zack. Thanks for writing this. I hope you continue with it.

[Spoo]

Oh, I really adore Zack. Thanks for writing this. I hope you continue with it.

Isn't he adorable? I'm happy you liked it. Also, I have strong intentions to continue!

[Spoo]

Updatin’ time! Yessir~

Hee. I had some serious fun with this chapter! Not as much wrongness here as there will be in later updates, but the next installment will make up for it for sure~

~*~

Chapter 2

“Just you today, Jack?”

“That’s right, Bill. Strange, isn’t it?”

“I’ll say. Where’d Zack get to?”

“He caught what was going around and stayed home today.”

“Ah, what a shame. That fella’s always rearin’ t’get to work.”

Hodgins offered the security guard a sad sort of smile and then passed the old-timer to head to his workstation when their morning chitchat ended.

The Jeffersonian’s team of squints (as Booth so affectionately referred to them as) had had their gloved hands full with the same case for four days through. The body of a teenage girl had been uncovered in a local field, which led to the usual investigation and workload that accompanied every decomposing corpse. This one, however, roused several suspicions and possibilities, as the skeletal remains appeared jagged, hastily broken, and burned. If that hadn’t been enough to furrow the group’s brows, then the particulates discovered on her clothing would do the trick just fine, considering the spores of plant life revealed were from an area over thirty miles from where the body originally had been found.

In the midst of easily classifying his beloved darlings that swam and spiraled under the lenses of the microscope, Hodgins heard a familiar voice, and thus looked towards the door, where an even more appealing image awaited his warm cerulean eyes. A smirk kicked up a corner of his lips as he watched the artist and facial constructionist of the forensics department (and his girlfriend of a few weeks now), Angela Montenegro, gradually cross the examination platform to arrive at his side. There was a beige-colored file in her hand but, more importantly, a charming smile on her face that never failed to brighten Jack’s day.

“Hey there, you,” she greeted, combing a set of finely manicured nails through his untamed hair. The act was suggestive and flirtatious and it sorely tempted Hodgins to whisk her away into the cramped heat of the storage closet for some private time.

“What’s up, beautiful?” he returned, framing her provided curves with an encasement of skilled fingers.

“I have some new information for you. If you’re interested, that is. Otherwise, we can always…you know…”

Oh, he knew.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to go with the file this time, Ange. The sooner we get this case out of our hair, the sooner you and I can start a ‘case’ of our own.”

“Yeah, because that wasn’t cheesy at all.”

Hodgins grinned and took the folder into his possession before scanning the informative contents within. The previous look of amusement and warmth melted from his disheveled features and was strictly replaced by the inquisitive stare he normally reciprocated to all things work-related. With a thoughtful ‘huh’, he relocated to a nearby computer and began clacking away at the keys while several charts and colorful diagrams appeared on the screen.

As he tended to this, Angela decided to offer the rest of the platform a vigilant eye. A handful of other staff members and such occupied the area as well, though the absence of one particular individual brought her attention to the busy man across the way.

“Hey, Jack?”

“Hnn?”

“Where’s Z-man? He’s usually up here disagreeing with you about something by now.”

Hodgins sighed and mentally asked himself how many times that day he was going to be asked of Zack’s absence. “If you would’ve seen him this morning you’d understand why he isn’t here.”

“Don’t tell me. He’s sick, isn’t he?”

“Yahtzee.”

Concern stained the artist’s almond-shaped eyes, prompting her neighboring brows to furrow slightly. “Did he really look that bad?”

Multitasking had always been a strong forte for one who often dealt with bugs, particles, and all things unpleasant. Given that, Hodgins was able to compare suspicious levels of sulfur hexafluoride while offering a suitable reply. “Let’s just say he won’t be coming into the lab aaaanytime soon.”

“Oh, God. Poor Zack,” Angela sighed, picturing the intern huddled miserably in bed with a blanket pulled over his floppy-haired head.

“‘Poor Zack’, what?”

The pair turned their heads to view the appearance of Dr. Temperance Brennan and her partner in crime - or crime fighting - Seeley Booth. Both individuals looked to have just returned from early morning rendezvous with possible murder suspects for the case. Brennan had one arm in her dark blue lab coat and the other ready to joins its twin when Angela’s words distracted the dressing process with news of her prized grad student.

“Sweetie, Zack’s sick.”

“I noticed a slight fluctuation in his behavioral patterns earlier this week, but I assumed it wasn’t anything of immediate concern,” Brennan admitted with a slight frown. “Though, now that I think about it, he did show signs of illness.”

Beside his concerned partner, Booth shook his head and felt it best to put his two cents in. “So the kid’s got a bug,” the agent issued with a shrug, hooking his thumbs beneath either side of his belt buckle. “It happens. A glass of orange juice, some Nyquil, and he'll be good as new. It’s not like he has the plague or anything.”

“He’s still sick, Booth,” Hodgins retorted, defending his best friend. “Doesn’t matter with what, it just matters that he is.”

"Also," Brennan piped, looking at the ex-sniper thoughtfully. "The Black Plague hasn't infected anyone in centuries, Booth."

"...It's just a saying, Bones."

The four continued to actively debate the topic for a few minutes (Booth finding himself being attacked by defensive squints as they continued to stick up for Zack) until the appearance of a fifth figure silenced each individual with a clearing of her throat. Camille Saroyan, pathologist and head of the forensic division, stared at her team oddly and arched a thin brow.

“I’m going to assume the conversation must be interesting if it’s causing so much of a commotion among my staff,” she commented, earning a snort from Booth.

“I’m not even going to say anything,” he muttered.

~*~

The rest of the morning was unbearably slow and it lacked the hustle and bustle that primarily consisted of Hodgepodge and Zackaroni’s scientific escapades. In fact, Jack found himself ridiculously bored without the company of the younger male when he’d finished the third stage of central analysis. By lunchtime he felt it best to check up on Zack to make sure he hadn’t keeled over or anything. Booth and Brennan had taken off and Angela and Cam were more than likely munching at salads somewhere, so he found the empty platform an ideal area to phone his unwell friend.

The preparatory rings ended a few seconds into the call with a thick and low, “Hello…?”

“How’re you feeling?” Hodgins smiled against the phone, tilting back in his rolling chair comfortably.

“Sick,” Zack’s voice replied, accompanied by what was probably a sniffle, though resembled some kind of mutated nasal gurgle instead. “How are things at the lab? Has Dr. Brennan managed to identify the weapon in my absence?”

“Nope. She’s honestly more concerned about you, man. And you know it takes something serious to distract Dr. B from work. Everyone’s hoping you’ll make a speedy recov--”

“Hhh-Hodgins, hold on for a s-second…!”

“Oookay?”

Further explanation wasn’t provided, but the sound of something hastily clasping over the receiver was, followed by a poorly muffled noise. Zack returned some seconds later, sniffling, and speaking through what sounded to be at least two or three tissues.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

“Just make sure you stay in bed and sleep this off, alright?”

“Technically, you can’t ‘sleep’ off a cold. Rest is considered a beneficial factor, however.”

“You know what? It doesn’t even matter,” the entomologist replied, stopping Zack from talking himself to sleep. “Anyway, I’d better get back to work. Take care of yourself, buddy.”

Lunch ended, the team reconvened, and the case began all over again.

~TBC~