For eight weeks, the only person who knew was Brennan.
"I don't know what to do. I mean...we've only talked about it in the context of 'maybe someday'. I can't have a baby, Brennan, I'm the most selfish person I know. When you have a baby you get all...I don't know. Old and fat and boring, I guess. I'm not ready to give my own life up...that must make me sound horrible."
She was quiet for a long time, and I was sure she was agreeing with me. "No," she finally said. "Angela, you're the least selfish person I know, and I'm not just saying that because you're my friend. I don't do that. You always think about other people before you think of yourself, and people genuinely like you. When I think of selfish, I certainly don't think of you."
I smiled, mainly to keep myself from bursting into tears. "Thanks, Sweetie."
"You're welcome." She picked up her keys from the table. "I can still take you to the clinic if you think that's what should be done."
"I just don't know if he'll still love me if I have an abortion," I said, finally starting to cry.
She wrapped her arms awkwardly around me and we sat back on the couch. "Angela, Jack will love you no matter what you do. I know this. I was locked in a car underground with him. He would rather die than think that you were unhappy."
"I think...I think I have to think about it."
I told Jack after we worked on the case with the family. Seeing the way they died—protecting each other—made me realize that I did, in fact, want a family, and if it was right now, then so be it. He reacted differently than I expected—half of me had expected him to be upset, but maybe Brennan was right.
"Jack," I said later, "Do you really want this baby?"
He rolled over to look at me. "Yes. Don't you?"
"I...yes. But I didn't want you...I didn't want you thinking that you had to pretend to be excited because I'm excited."
He kissed my forehead and held me close. "No. I love you. God, Angela, I didn't even think about having kids with Clarissa, okay? I love you, and I want to have children with you."
"Okay. I love you, too. Goodnight, Jack."
Those classes we took? They didn't tell us anything. They didn't tell me how much it would hurt or how scary it would be. They didn't tell me that Jack would freak out—my tough-guy slime man, of all people—and leave Brennan to coach while he disappeared off to God-knows-where.
"I want to die," I told her.
"No, you don't."
"Yes...I...do. Ican'ttakethisanymore!"
"Angela, just..." She looked about as lost as I felt, now that I think of it. "Breathe."
"Where is he, anyway? Where is that fucking man?"
She smoothed down my hair. "He's out in the hallway with Booth. Do you want me to get him?"
"You're doing great, Mrs. Hodgins."
"My last name is Montenegro, damn it!"
"How you doin'?"
"Jack! You're here. She was asking for you."
"We're almost there, Dr. Hodgins. Would you like to catch the baby?"
"Um..." He seemed like he wasn't sure about that, so I shot him a look. "Okay."
For months before the baby was born, I tried to imagine what it would be like to have one. I even drew pictures—sweet little curly-haired boys with dirt under their fingernails, sweet little curly-haired girls with paint on their dresses—but it was always a semi-lucid hallucination until the moment I saw her.
Her, mottled purple and red, dark-haired and furious, shreiking and wailing and kicking, so angry with us for evicting her from her warm waterbed. There was an eternity of this and then an indignant grunt as they cleaned her, weighed her (8 pounds 4 ounces, 21 inches. That's something to be proud of pushing out of your body without drugs.) and wrapped her up to hand her to Jack to hand her to me, which is when I finally got a good look at my daughter.
"What's her name?" Jack asked, his hand hovering protectively over the baby's head.
We had talked about names. Pages of names, whole notebooks full of names, until we finally came to a decision: if it was a boy, he picked the first name and I picked the middle name, and if it was a girl, I picked the first name and he picked the middle name, as long as we both could live with it. ("No 'Link'." "What? Awww!") "Marigold. Her name is Marigold."
"Marigold." He smiled and stroked her hair. "She looks like a Marigold."
"Marigold what?"
"Louise. Just in case she doesn't grow up crazy like you and wants to be plain old Louise."
I looked at her, then back at him. Her hair was curly, or at least it was slightly kinky. Just like i'd imagined. "I think we have a winner."
He kissed her forehead and then mine. "We'd have had one anyway."
"Jack?" I said hesitantly.
"What?"
"I...I almost didn't keep the baby."
"I know."
"You do?"
He nodded. "After you told us, I found the card in your office."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"What do you have to be sorry for?" he asked, holding out his arms so that he could hold her for a while. "You didn't, she's here, we love her, and that's all that counts. And you know what? I'd have loved you anyway. I may not have agreed with that decision, and I would've been hurt that you didn't talk to me, but I'd have loved you anyway, because there is not one thing in the whole world that could make me stop. Okay? It's late, and you haven't slept in awhile. You need to sleep, because I guarantee that Marigold Louise here isn't going to do much sleeping when we get home. I love you, Angela."
"I love you, Jack. I love you, Marigold."
As I fall asleep, I remind myself to always, always listen to Brennan.