I don't know where this came from. I sat down to write another chapter of "Girl in the War" and then this popped into my head. And then I needed to make it happen. So it's happening. The title is from the song by Snow Patrol. And yeah. Please let me know what you think, because…yeah.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

The first thing that Mackenzie registers is how fucking bright it is.

And hot.

And damn, things are a little fuzzy, but she's pretty sure that she's woken up on the sun.

Things are definitely fuzzy. She thinks it's all probably Sloan's fault. Mac vaguely remembers Sloan insisting on another shot of something called a "Three Wise Men."

That shot was many things, but wise it was not.

Okay. Mac tries to review the situation.

She's not in New York. This is not her apartment. Her apartment isn't this bright, for one thing, and she grimaces and squeezes her eyes shut. Her head is pounding.

It's probably because of those wise men. Or the tequila that had come before they moved on to shots.

She's in Vegas.

Yes.

Because Sloan was attending a bachelorette party for a friend from college, and somehow convinced Mackenzie to tag along.

"Oh come on, Kenz," Sloan had wheedled. "When was the last time you had a vacation?"

"1997," Mackenzie answered automatically, and then she thought about it for another moment.

It was actually in 2006. She knows because it had been Will who had surprised her with a packed bag and a plane ticket to Belize.

"There are clothes in this bag, right?" she had asked, only half kidding. "Because we will need to leave the room at some point. For sustenance. And maybe some souvenirs." He had kissed her, long and hard, and she had pulled back slightly breathless. "We can skip the souvenirs, but the sustenance is non negotiable."

It had been a great trip. A really, really great trip.

"Seriously?" Sloan had asked. "You haven't had a vacation since Clinton was president?"

"It was 2006, actually, I think. Unless you count Pakistan," Mackenzie said, to which Sloan replied,

"I don't."

"Why do you even want me to come?" Mackenzie asked. "Won't you have your college friends there?"

"Her maid of honor is a bitch," Sloan answered. "And I haven't talked to some of those women in years. I want to have fun. I've never been to Vegas before. I need a solid partner in crime. Come on, Kenz. It will be fun!"

It was fun. Had been, at least, until she had woken up, feeling dizzy and wondering if she was going to meet those three wise men again this morning.

She groans, and tries to move, but realizes that she's pinned down.

By an arm.

Oh God.

She rolls over slightly and there's another person in her bed, and this person is a veritable furnace, which is possibly why it feels like it's two hundred degrees.

Mac remembers countless mornings like this when she was with Will. The man was her own personal heater during the winter months, and she liked to shove her frozen feet in between his legs when she slipped into bed. He would yelp and she would grin.

"Jesus, Mac!" He would exclaim. "Those things are lethal!"

It takes her much longer than it should to realize that the person radiating heat in her bed is Will.

Will Fucking McAvoy. And what the hell had happened the night before? What was he even doing in Vegas?

Bits of the evening began to float back to her. Will showing up with Neal and Don, claiming that they needed a boys weekend away, and that he had forgotten, honestly Mac, that she and Sloan were in Vegas too. And that they were staying at the Bellagio.

Boys weekend my ass, Mackenzie had thought, but it hadn't stopped her from allowing Will and the guys to tag along. Neal had been so excited, babbling on about how Will was funding the trip and how he had never gambled before, and he only had about fourteen dollars in his bank account and if he was really lucky he might be able to turn that into at least forty dollars.

"Dream big, Sampat," Will had clapped him on the back. "Maybe you can turn it into a hundred." But she saw Will slip Neal a hundred to play with, because that was the kind of thing that Will did, even when he was trying to convince everyone that he was the world's biggest asshole.

He wasn't. Not even close, and she had sidled up to him and grinned a sloppy, drunk grin and nudged him with her shoulder.

"I saw that," she confided.

"What?"

"Neal. Money. You're a good guy, McAvoy." They were both incredibly aware of just how drunk she was.

"Nah, encouraging someone to gamble is not generally looked upon as being a good thing," he answered.

"Is Nina upset that you're here in Vegas?" Mackenzie had asked, doing her drunken best to school her features into a look of total innocence. The truth of the matter was that learning that Will was dating Nina Howard had hurt more than Mac was comfortable with, and every time she thought about him with that nitwit, it broke her heart a little bit more.

"I wouldn't think so," Will replied. "We broke up."

"Oh," Mac tried her best to conceal her happiness, but failed miserably. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, you aren't."

"No, I'm not," she agreed. "Let me buy you a drink, Will. To help you drown your sorrows." And she had ordered herself another drink while she was at it, and it was shortly thereafter that Sloan had thrown her arms up in the air and cried,

"Shots!"

Not one time in the history of mankind had anything good ever followed that word being shouted.

And now Will is in her bed. Will.

Mac runs a hand over her face, and is startled when something cool touches her skin.

It's a ring. On her left hand. And Will turns at that same moment, his own left hand sliding up to cover his face and there's a matching ring.

"Oh," she mutters. "Oh, shit."