A/N: Sorry if this long...

~ This story is 100% AU. - I may include familiar cases from this time period, but will be adjusting plot lines and characters to make them fit this new world.

~ It begins just after the conclusion of their case in Las Vegas during the second season

~ I have not written very far ahead, so while updates will be frequent, they won't come as often as I usually manage to do them

~ If you enjoy, please leave a review. It's been awhile since I posted a new story and I hope you enjoy reading this one.

~ As usual, I don't own Bones. Still wish I did.

A pounding headache finally forced her back to consciousness. It throbbed to the beat of her heart. Groaning, she opened her eyes slowly. Squinting seemed like the best option at that moment. A quick perusal of the room at least told her where she was.

Still in the hotel room in Vegas. After the fight and the confession, they'd returned to the connected rooms they'd shared for the case. But they'd been hesitant to leave for some reason.

They. Booth. She'd been there with Booth. Brennan turned her head slowly toward the other side of the bed, shocked to see her partner next to her. He continued to sleep, his breathing even and deep.

Confused, alarmed, Brennan ran her eyes from his head to his feet and was relieved to see he was still clothed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Glancing under the covers, she realized it was the same for her. Even her bra was still firmly hooked around her. Brennan didn't like to jump to conclusion but she felt it was safe to assume that the two of them had done nothing but sleep in that bed.

The sheets were cool beneath her skin and she focused on the sensation to ground her back into the moment. Cool sheets and a hint of sunlight behind the tightly closed curtains. Still in Vegas and it was after sunrise.

Slowly, very slowly, she sat up and barely muffled a groan as the room spun before righting itself again. She made it to a seated position at the edge of the bed before she was forced to stop moving. The pause gave her time to try and remember what had happened the previous evening.

They'd solved the case. Clearly remembering that part, Brennan fast forwarded through the evening. Booth had been beaten pretty severely during the fight and she hadn't been comfortable with flying out that evening. Instead, they'd decided to celebrate before going home.

Avoiding the casino sections had been difficult, but they'd finally located a bar far enough from the noise that Booth had been comfortable enough to stay. There weren't many places in Vegas where the sounds of slots and gambling faded away into the background. But as a trained investigator, Booth had known who to ask and where to look.

Booth. Friend. Ally. Partner. Turning slowly she focused on his profile, his cheek pressed against the pillow beneath. Gentle fingers reached out to brush as his hair before quickly being drawn back again. It wasn't a good idea to touch him like that. It was too intimate, too personal.

He was handsome, a scientist couldn't deny facts. She'd never admit it, but a part of her regretted the year they hadn't spoken to each other. In just the short time they'd worked together, he'd become the rock she could and did lean on.

And if there were other feelings there? Feelings that ran further from friendship and more toward other things. She wasn't ready to say. But Brennan knew without a doubt there was little she wouldn't do for him.

Feeling a little more steady, she rose to her feet and stumbled her way toward the bathroom. The face looking back at her from the mirror had bloodshot eyes and pale skin. After using the facilities, she sat on the edge of the tub.

What had happened after they'd found the bar? There'd been a bottle. Or was it two bottles? She couldn't quite recall, but given how she looked and felt, Brennan was sure two was more accurate.

So it was a drunken celebration between friends and coworkers. She supposed it was possible, despite the fact that doing something like that was out of character for the two of them. But being here had been tough on Booth and she would have done anything to distract him.

Everything after the bar was a blur, but they had gone someplace else, she was sure of it. She could smell alcohol on her clothes and something else Brennan couldn't quite place. It had the acrid smell of smoke, but not from cigarettes. It smelled almost like candles.

Her heart stuttered as her brain took the opportunity to flash a single scene in her head. The two of them, standing in front of a lone man, a woman standing just to his left. He held a book in his hand and was smiling at the two of them. Surely, he'd been a bartender. There was no way they'd done what she was picturing in her head.

Stomach rolling, Brennan stumbled from the bathroom and looked frantically around the room. Booth's room. When they'd returned to the hotel, they'd both apparently collapsed into his bed. There had to be evidence here, if what she was seeing in her head was really the truth.

Nothing on the dresser or the nightstand. Not on top of his suitcase, either. She was ready to go back to her own room to look when she picked up a blanket that had fallen from the bed. There, hidden beneath, was the piece of paper she'd hoped not to find.

Two pieces of paper actually. A frantic search on her phone told her exactly what she feared. It was possible. For not a lot of money, either. She gave a brief thought to whose credit card they'd put it on. Knowing Booth, probably his. There was no way he'd let Brennan pay for their wedding.

A hysterical laugh tried to free itself from her chest. Desperately, she fought it back down. She wasn't sure what would happen if she gave it sound.

On those pieces of paper were hers and Booth's signatures. Surprisingly well written, too, considering how inebriated they must have been.

"Drunk enough to do without clearly remembering it, but not drunk enough that someone tried to stop us," she said.

Panic was starting to set in, teasing around edges that were fraying. She'd married Booth. Her partner. They'd had some quickie drunk wedding in Vegas that only happened in television shows she didn't watch.

"We're married," she whispered. Equal parts horrified and numb, she started at the papers, one in each hand. A license and a certificate. Filed and legal. Searchable by anyone who thought to look. The FBI would easily find record of it.

She'd just admitted to being willing to do anything for him, but marriage? What part of her brain had decided that was a good idea. Had alcohol pushed away all logic and allowed something else to take over? Emotions? What was hiding in the darkest recesses of her mind?

Frantic in a way she'd never felt before, Brennan threw the certificates on the bed next to a sleeping Booth. She needed to go back to DC and find a lawyer. Get this annulled before anyone knew what she'd done, what they'd done. This wasn't okay. It was never going to be okay.

Booth awoke to the sound of a suitcase being closed and zipped. Rolling over, he groaned, similar to the way his partner had when she awoke. As he opened his eyes, the scene he saw alarmed him enough to drive away the hangover that was waiting in the wings.

"Bones?" he asked. Her name came out roughly and he tried again. "Bones, what's wrong?"

She was pulling the suitcase toward the door and almost didn't stop when she heard him say her name. Instead, she froze in place and shook her head. "I have to go, Booth," she said.

Confused, he sat up and ran his hands over his face. The stubble made a rasping sound in the very silent room. "Are we going to miss our flight? Why didn't you wake me?" He blinked hard, trying to catch up. "How much did we drink last night?"

The laugh she gave was hollow. "Too much and not enough," she said cryptically. "There's a first class ticket waiting for you at the airport. Don't go back to the casino. I'll see you at the Lab."

He finally got to his feet. "What's going on here, Bones?" Looking down, he noted he was still fully dressed. Besides, they hadn't been that drunk. And he couldn't count the ways he'd hate himself if they'd had sex and he wasn't able to remember any of it. "I don't think anything happened we need to be embarrassed about."

Embarrassed? Definitely not. Terrified? Definitely.

"The ticket is at the airport, Booth. Just let me go, please." Dangerously close to begging, to tears she wouldn't be able to explain, Brennan fought the urge to simply run. He'd come after her if she tried.

"Turn around and look at me." It was a demand and Booth knew it. But he needed to see her face.

Anxiety and something he thought was fear battled in her eyes. He had never wanted to see that look directed at him. He searched through his memory, trying to recall what he'd done to her. "Did I hurt you, Bones?"

If he saw those papers, she'd never get to leave. A confrontation with him wasn't something she was ready to deal with. She hoped the only time they actually discussed this was to sign annulment papers. But he was her friend, a very, very good friend, and she wouldn't let him think he'd done something like that. "You didn't hurt me, Booth. Not with words or with your hands. But I need you to let me leave."

His eyes searched hers and he didn't like what he saw. But without a good reason, Booth wouldn't force her to stay. "All we did was share a bed, Bones. We've done that before. We're both fully clothed. I don't think anything else happened." When she didn't respond, he sighed in defeat. "I wish you'd wait. Or talk to me. I thought we could always talk to each other."

But her hand was already on the door. "I'm sorry, Booth," she said. "But I can't. You'll understand soon." Without an explanation for the odd comments, she hurried out the door and closed it firmly behind her.

The hand that had rubbed his cheek shifted to the back of his neck. "What. The. Hell."

Looking around the room, he noticed the papers on the bed. Shaking his head at the bizarre turn of events, he reached for them. A glance was all it took before the hangover that had been waiting slammed into him full force.

Willing himself not to be sick, he sank to the bed and put both next to him, one on each side. "No wonder she ran," he muttered. "How the hell did this actually happen?"
Married? He'd married her? Clearly she'd awoken and remembered or found the evidence first. The panic and fear in her eyes made a lot more sense now. As did her rapid need to escape.

He hadn't hurt her, she'd been honest about that. But she was scared. Emotions were often too much for her to handle, especially when they confused her. He knew that. Why hadn't she just talked to him?

"She'll have annulment papers drawn up before I get back to DC." Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the whole thing, he forced himself from the bed and toward the shower.

"Why didn't she just say something?" he asked the empty room. They or he, worked for the FBI. It was possible they could have had it taken care of before leaving the city. Now, it would take weeks, probably.

They could have laughed about it, Made it nothing more than a fond memory. But she'd run. Quicker than he thought was possible. What else was going on in that big brain of hers?

Did part of her not regret it? Did she want to stay married and didn't know how to tell him? Seemed hard to believe from his logical, love is all chemicals, scientist. But there had been something else there, behind the look she'd given him. It had been hard to focus on, covered so carefully by a look he was sure would haunt him.

Shaking his head, Booth knew he was getting nowhere. And he needed to get out of the city. He'd think and worry about this after he was cleaned up. And after he'd found some coffee.