If anyone on Bones deserves a happy life, it’s everyone on Bones. These people have suffered enough. They need a rest! But you don’t get into the murder-solving business because you love long naps and being safe all the time. No one here is very good at sitting back and doing nothing, anyway; they try, but this life keeps pulling them back, risks and all. If only accepting risks were as easy as accepting the consequences.
It’s been eight weeks since a bomb sent Hodgins and Aubrey to the hospital — Aubrey for shrapnel-related injuries that looked serious but turned out just fine; Hodgins for spinal cord-related injuries that looked just fine but turned out to be serious. Two months later, Hodgins is paraplegic, wheelchair bound, and clinging to the hope that he might someday regain the use of his legs. As long as he keeps clinging, he’s still mostly the Hodgins we’ve come to know, but there’s a fine line between hope and denial, and I’m afraid of what might happen when he realizes that he’s on the wrong side.
Not that I would definitely put it past this show to restore Hodgins’ use of his legs before the series wraps at the end of next season — Bones is the kind of “comfort food” story that almost always guarantees a happy ending to characters who’ve endured tragedy. But it’s also not the kind of story to presume that a happy ending requires leaving a wheelchair behind. At this point, I don’t expect to see Hodgins walk again. The show has always been good at respecting people’s grief, and most survivors of spinal cord injuries can’t count on miracle cures. Brennan is with me on this; when her husband implies that Hodgins just needs hope and hard work to get back on his feet, she reminds Booth that it’s insulting to presume that Hodgins can just “fight his nerves back into growing.”
But Booth isn’t the only one who wants that. Eager for everything to get back to normal, Hodgins is ignoring his doctor’s orders, channeling his energy into unsupervised physical therapy and rogue crime-solving. As soon as he’s out of the hospital, our resident bug guy drags Angela to the lab to “say hello” and wastes no time insinuating himself into their latest case. Drea Torres, an attorney with the Public Defender’s Office, was found murdered not long after losing a case that she expected to win. She took the loss hard, getting into a bar fight with a prosecutor and leaving with a DJ who supplied her cocaine.
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If you’re going to deal drugs, maybe don’t also breed rare snakes that could easily be traced to you. Drea had traces of cocaine and a cell from a Woma python’s skin in her nose (Booth: “How does that even happen?”), which leads pretty neatly to a man by the name of DJ Woma. The DJ, Chad, admits that he and Drea left the club together Friday night to “mess around.” It got rougher than she liked, and when he broke her necklace, Drea hit him. He told her to go but insists that she turned down his offer to call a cab.
NEXT: Boom, lawyered