They hug, so happy to see each other because Broadsky is still hunting somewhere out there and oh god they can't even look around them anymore, too much, too much stress and fear and worry, always worry, when they have enough to worry about already. So instead they hug, and kiss, and Jack flutters his fingers on the belly and gets that grin like he always does, because the baby has started to kick back at him whenever he does that. Makes him cry, sometimes, because he never, ever thought this would ever, ever happen, and here it is, any day now, he'll be a daddy. And they smile at each other. And they step off the curb.
A shot fired from the distance Broadsky was at, you won't hear it. You wouldn't hear it, no matter how keen your ears were. Jack never can be sure why why Angela's face quirked, because of course she couldn't hear it. He doesn't believe in psychics or saints, not really, not anymore. But if he did believe in them, one of them would be Angela. She didn't hear it, couldn't have heard it, he knows that. But he can't shake the feeling that she might have…what, felt it? Seen it? Smelled it? Somehow, though, her face grew still and she met his eyes, and it is a testament to how far away Broadsky was when he fired that Angela was able to get out the words "I love you" before the bullet ripped into her shoulder, knocked her off her feet, spilled her blood over the pavement and into the road they'd been about to cross together.
Later, Booth will try to say that Broadsky was probably aiming for Jack. That Broadsky was a sick son of a bitch, but even he wouldn't choose to shoot a pregnant woman. Of course, in his head, Jack knows that Angela was the most devastating person to lose outside of Brennan herself — and with Booth guarding Brennan, Angela became the ideal target. By shooting a pregnant woman, as Booth knew, Broadsky'd shown his own fervor, his own dedication to his cause. He'd also ruined everyone, Jack especially.
The only person not immediately ruined, in the aftermath of that tiny moment, was the baby. Of course, her birth was awful, horrifying and full of screams and tears and pain that could not have been more unlike the normal pain and tears and screams, as her mother flickered in and out of consciousness, as her doctors worked to save them both, as her newborn lungs refused to work, as her mother's heart flatlined and never came back. Her mother died. Something in her father broke. As her father clutched her mother's hand, kept talking through tears, refusing to let the doctors give up, the baby opened her eyes and saw nothing. And Catherine Temperance Pearly Gates Montenegro-Hodgins stared sightlessly up at the fluorescent lights, screaming her displeasure at her sudden, unwelcome expulsion from her mother.