It would be a happy moment, she supposed as she rubbed a hand over her stomach. Soon she would get to meet the baby she'd been carrying around for almost nine months. Angela had dreamed about the child she and Hodgins would raise together. They didn't know whether it would be a boy or a girl, but they had names picked out in either case.
The days leading up to the birth of your first child were suppose to be happy, Angela reminded herself as she sat on the couch in the loft of the lab, staring at the ceiling. The grey expanse of glass was a blank canvass. She let her eyes roam around the sections, day dreaming about what life would be like a year from now. How they would be about to celebrate the baby's first birthday. Maybe the baby would be walking by then.
Then her stomach turned. It didn't turn because of the baby kicking, it turned because she found the one section of glass that wasn't a perfect piece of glass. The one piece on the celling that was marred by a bullet hole.
She hadn't been in the lab when Vincent had died. She had been out getting lunch with Hodgins when it had happened. The news had gone around like wild fire. Cam had called them, Hodgins had taken the call and then the two of them had cried in the car for almost an hour before going back to the lab.
But that had been almost week ago. The memorial service had been wonderful. The official funeral was back in England, but the Jeffersonian had provided a small gathering to remember the intern. The actual service hadn't been anything compared to the moments shared by the lab staff on the loading dock. Sharing those seemingly inconsequential facts had meant more to her then anything said by the museum bigwigs that afternoon.
She stared at the hole in the ceiling again. She knew that there was a tarp on the roof covering the hole, but a tarp wasn't going to fix the hole in everyone's hearts. Those holes would only be fixed by time.
"What're you thinking about?" Hodgins flopped down on the couch next to her, propping his feet on the coffee table and grabbing her hand with his. "Are you thinking about what an awesome mom you're going to make for my baby?"
Angela turned her head to look at him. "Your baby? Try our baby." She gave him a smile.
"Our baby," Hodgins corrected himself. He kissed her hand. "Are you thinking about our baby?"
"Vincent was somebody's baby." Angela murmured, staring back up at the hole in the ceiling.
Hodgins followed her gaze upward. "Everybody is somebody's baby." He reminded her.
"Why did it have to be him?" Angela asked. "It could have been any of the interns assigned that day. Why did he have to be the one working?"
Hodgins turned to face her, still holding her hand in his. "Are you saying that you wanted Clark or Wendell to be working?"
"No, of course not!" Angela protested, seeing how absurd her thoughts had sounded once she said them.
Hodgins gently squeezed her hand. "Brodsky was going to shoot someone, whether it was Vincent, Booth, Clark, me or even you."
"I'm glad he didn't shoot Booth," Angela murmured, thinking about all the FBI agent had done to find and capture Brodsky.
"Just Booth," Hodgins teased a little. "What about me?"
"I'm glad he didn't shoot you either," Angela gave him a kiss and then rubbed her stomach when the baby kicked again. "Our baby is going to be a soccer player with all this kicking."
"Maybe she'll be a ballerina," Hodgins put his hand over Angela's.
"If it's a boy maybe he'll be a ballerina, too." Angela gave a small smile and then her smile faltered. "There have been blind dancers, right?"
"I don't know, we'll have to look that up, but our kid won't be the first." Hodgins assured her. "The baby will be fine."
They sat there in silence, relishing in the down time between cases. Hodgins had shrugged off his lab coat and Angela could see the tattoo of her face sticking out underneath sleeve of his t-shirt.
"It's a good thing we got married," She traced the ribbon of text that read 'Angie Forever' on his arm.
"I would have kept you on my arm no matter what happened to us."
"I'm sorry my dad put himself on the other side."
Hodgins shrugged, "It means we get to name our baby Michael or Catherine."
"Hodgins, what if we name the baby after Vincent?" Angela stopped tracing the tattoo and looked up at him.
"I'm not naming our daughter Vincent or Nigel or Murray." Hodgins said, his voice teasing, but his eyes serious.
"Well not if it's a girl." Angela clarified. "But if the baby is a boy, we could name him Michael Staccato Vincent,"
"I like that name," Hodgins nodded. "It's us, your dad,"
"And remembering," Angela murmured, leaning against him again.
"And remembering," Hodgins agreed. "I need to head back to work. Lunch time is over and the mass spec should be done by now." He kissed the top of her head.
Hodgins made it to the stairs before Angela spoke up.
"Jack, can we keep the name a secret, just the two of us?" Angela was chewing her lip as she thought about things. "Just in case the baby is a girl."
"Anything for you, babe." He smiled and headed down to analyze his test results.
Angela leaned back and looked up at the hole in the ceiling again. Everybody was somebody's baby. Hodgins' words reverberated in her mind. She rubbed her stomach again. Her baby was going to know why his middle name was Vincent. Her baby was going to get an encyclopedia for his first birthday and it was very possible that her baby's first words would be "Did you know?". Everybody is somebody's baby.