New fic! Although Ripples is still my main focus, so please don't stop reading it, I had another idea that wouldn't go away and I hope you're all as nice as you are on that story :)

Sorry for any errors btw :P And this is is going to be a long story, for anyone who gets interested.

Okay, explanation- think Sliding Doors- throughout the story, it's the same people, different storyline, all triggered by the events in this two chapter...basically alternate worlds...yeah, sorry it might be confusing but any questions feel free to PM me and I'll answer :)

Enjoy!

This was never what she had planned.

The rain poured down in torrents, almost blinding her. She cried as she walked, sobs that echoed through the empty streets. Temperance Brennan didn't cry openly. Tears were for late nights, and empty rooms, going all the way back to her childhood, a miserable little girl, stifling her uncontrollable tears by burying her face in her pillow. She had grown out of tears soon after this, although she had plenty to cry about it. It was embarrassing, and it was a sign of weakness. She often laughed at people who struggled to talk about things like sex; they were a part of life, perfectly natural.

So were tears. But they were her exception.

Here, walking down the streets, nobody to witness her breakdown, she cried like she had never cried before.

The sky above her cried with her, the clouds like giant tear ducts as the rain poured down. Each drop that thundered like a bullet onto her bare arms was ignored. Her skin was so icy cold it was almost numb. I should have worn a coat, Brennan thought, then stopped- who wears a coat to get married?

Wedding dresses aren't known for their comfort or their warmth and hers was no exception. It had been beautiful- no sleeves, long and , of course, white, with a scalloped neckline and hundreds of little pearls sewn along the hem. Not the ideal thing to wear for this kind of weather.

Brennan had chosen the dress by herself, and although this wasn't maybe the situation she would have preferred, she was proud of the outcome, proud of her choice. As she was walking down the aisle, the music playing, a lump in her throat, she had heard the admiring whispers. She had looked good.

Now the dress was plastered to her shaking form, like a second skin. Her hair, so carefully twisted and pinned into a bun mere hours earlier was ruined, her hair soaked, tendrils coming loose and sticking to her face. Her mascara was smudged badly, from her tears and from the rain equally. Why would she have worn waterproof mascara? Temperance Brennan didn't cry.

This was such a mess. How had she even gotten here, walking down the flooding streets, soaked to the skin in her wedding dress? She should be at the chapel, standing beside her fiancé, safe and dry and saying her vows. And yet it had been all wrong. If Brennan was ever been asked to imagine getting married, she would have said a small, non-religious service, with family and a few close friends. Simple. Not a giant church, full of people she barely knew, with musicians and the smell of flowers so intoxicating and sickly she wanted to vomit and sneeze at the same time. This was all wrong. Angela should have been there, her best friend. Her father should have been there, and Russ and his family. And him. He should have been there. She had honestly believed he would show up. Maybe if he had, if she had known she had his approval (however reluctant) along with his presence, then she might have been able to force herself to go through with it.

There was certain point where Brennan had realised she couldn't do it, couldn't go through with this mockery, and that was when, a few minutes into the service, Hodgins slipped in quietly with an apologetic smile. His tie was crooked, and he looked out of breath. Angela probably didn't know he was there.

That was the moment when she realised how wrong she was. It all seemed like a terrible dream but it was one that wouldn't leave. So Brennan herself left, running down the aisle to a chorus of whispers. Minutes earlier they had been whispers of admiration; now they were of shock and surprise. The bride fleeing her own wedding? How unheard of!

Brennan continued walking through the silent night, unaware that there were people out there looking for her, unaware that a new guest was about to arrive at the bustling church to the surprise of her absence.

This was not what she had planned.

Brennan was scared. Terrified, even. She had butterflies in her stomach, and her mind wasn't automatically registering the scientific meaning of this. Her thoughts were jumbled, mixed so badly she couldn't determine how to even begin sorting them out.

She paced along the gravel and stared upwards above her. The sky was thick, and laden with grey clouds. She hoped it wouldn't begin to rain, and instinctively ducked under the small shelter at the entrance to the church. Her hand moved up for just about the fifteenth time to check that her hair was in place. It had taken hours to sort out, but it was perfectly arranged. Looking into the glass notice board on the wall beside her she squinted at her reflection, checking her make-up. It was still okay. And her dress? Beautiful. White, and delicately sewn with tiny peals. She had chosen it alone. She wished Angela had been there. What was she trying to prove?

This was the right thing. Brennan wanted to do this, and Angela might have thought that Brennan would halt the wedding if she ignored her for a few days but she was surely mistaken.

Is Angela here? Brennan thought, and a lump came to her throat. She had no idea who was in the church, but she could hear it buzzing with life through the large oak doors that separated her from two hundred people and her fiancé. Her hands, clutching her bouquet of creamy roses, were sweating, and she exhaled. A draft of cool air fluttered against her flushed skin. Her fingers tightened around her bouquet.

Her eyes flickered against the notice board, and the large sheet of paper, protected by the pane of glass, embossed with the gold, elegant writing. Her name- and then his.

Tim Sullivan. She felt an ache inside her chest. What if she wished it was somebody else's name instead of his? What if she wished that this was somebody else's wedding- anybody else's wedding, just not hers. Part of her still didn't even believe in marriage, for God's sake.

Too late. The oak doors opened a crack, and she saw a face pop round, shining and keen.

"We're ready for you." She beamed, and her words reminded Brennan of those spoken by a doctor or a dentist in a waiting room. She nodded, looked up at the moody sky one last time, and entered the church.

Brennan was barely aware of what was going on. She was practically in a trance. The music started, and she started to walk down the aisle, leaving a flutter of admiring whispers in her wake. She had her eyes focussed on the pew at the very front, avoiding looking at any of the people sat in the rows. Before she knew it, she was at the front of the church; and Sully was leaning down to kiss her, and they were facing the vicar and all she could think was, This is wrong.

Brennan dared to look at the people, watching with smiles. It was a sea of colour, with the odd camera flash. The smell of flowers was powerful, and everywhere she looked, they were there; white roses, and red roses, daffodils, and daisies, bright and happy.

And then, at the last moment, she saw them, taking up the entire back row. Angela, smiling at her softly, reassuringly. Brennan's heart swooped; she was here, despite everything, she had come. Next to her was Hodgins, tie crooked. He gave her the thumbs up. Beside him, Zack, looking uncomfortable, but interested. Next to him, Cam, wearing a lovely purple dress. Brennan's eyes fell upon Gordon Gordon, and he caught her gaze. He was smiling, but she saw his real expression, and she understood what he was thinking. Brennan scanned the row one last time, and her eyes came back to him. He frowned sadly, and that said enough; Booth isn't coming.

"Sweetie?" Brennan turned back to Sully, and he looked concerned. She smiled reassuringly and turned back to the vicar. He began to speak, the usual wedding introduction, and Brennan faced him and clasped Sully's hand, but she wasn't concentrating. Booth wasn't here, he wasn't coming. She had honestly thought he would. It was a great comfort to have the others, but she needed him here. If he was here, then she would know that he approved. She couldn't lose Booth, especially over something that she didn't even understand. She was getting married, for God's sake, not committing a murder- what was so wrong with getting married? What was it that had made Angela frown, Cam and Hodgins look puzzled when she told them? What was it about her getting married that had driven Booth so far away?

Brennan looked up. Sully spoke his vows, staring lovingly into her eyes, getting a ripple of laughter every time he made his joke. The vicar smiled, and asked him to repeat his vows. Then it was her turn. Brennan's heart was racing so fast it hurt her, and when Sully said, "I do," the sheer suspense of his words cut through her reverie like a knife. Oh God. Now it was her turn. The vicar had focussed his attention on her now, and asked the question she had been dreading so much.

Sully was waiting. The vicar was waiting. Everyone in the church was waiting, and Brennan couldn't speak. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

And then it happened. There was a loud creaking, and every head in the church turned to look at the source of the noise.

"Sorry, folks." Brennan's heart swooped. It was Booth, wearing a tuxedo, looking out of breath, but still there, raising his hands awkwardly as everyone was glaring at him. "Traffic."

He moved to the back aisle, and Angela moved up and made room for him. As everyone shifted their attention back to the front, Brennan stared at the new arrival. He was whispering to Angela, and the artist patted his arm. Booth eyes flickered to Brennan and he gave her a soft smile. He mimicked Hodgins earlier movement, and gave her a thumbs up. Brennan smiled at him, and tried to convey everything she felt in that moment in her smile. He was here. She hesitated, staring at him, and it looked like his face tensed for a second, but then he was smiling encouragingly again, and Brennan turned back to Sully, turned back to the vicar, and smiled again, nervously.

"I do."

And then Sully was slipping on their rings, and the vicar, beaming with happiness pronounced them man and wife, and they kissed. The church erupted with cheers, and emotion surged up inside of Brennan. She pulled back from Sully and couldn't help but smile and squeeze his fingers. No matter what conflict she had felt, she did love him, and now they were married. At that moment, for the first time in a long time, she believed in happy ever afters.

As everybody stood up and clapped loudly, a symphony matched with the piano playing, they walked down the aisle, man and wife, hand in hand, past friends and family. They approached the back, and as a friend of Sully's patted him on the back, Angela stood and hugged Brennan. "You look amazing, sweetie."

Then Hodgins piped up cheekily, "Ten out of ten for hotness, Dr B,A" and Angela was slapping him playfully. The whole time, Booth was watching her silently. She approached him uncertainly, and a smile that didn't meet his eyes spread over his features. He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss onto her cheek, saying something about her dress, but as he pulled away, their eyes met, and they were all Brennan could see. She paused, frozen. His eyes revealed so much, even if he was smiling, and her stomach flopped, her cheeks burning. In the back of brain, regret and guilt pricked her. Brennan ignored it, letting the happiness wash over her again, and she reached and squeezed Booth's arm and thanked him. Before she knew it, Sully was pulling her outside, and the congregation followed. The clouds that had threatened to spill rain before had vanished; the sky was blue and the sun was bright and happy