A/N: As always, thank you for all the follows, favorites and reviews.

Now, on with our story.

Booth should have gone after her. It was his first thought when he was finally awake enough to think. If not after she'd run from the room, at least after he'd found the paperwork on the bed.

He chalked his reaction up to fatigue and the remains of the alcohol still in his system.

And shock. Yesterday at this time, he'd been single. Now he was married. It had been a strange twenty-four hours.

"Hey, I remember you. The FBI agent from last night! How's marriage treating you? And where is your pretty bride. Her grip on your hand was so tight, I wasn't sure she'd ever let you go."

Booth had taken a shower, packed his bags and left the motel. A quick check with the airport told him he wasn't leaving until that afternoon. Bones had given herself plenty of time to escape.

It had taken a lot of willpower to walk out of the casino without Bones to help him and he was angry with her for that. She knew what he'd gone through during this case and she'd left him to face the last several hours of it alone. And while he understood her panic at the thought of the two of them married, he couldn't overlook the fact that he was in Las Vegas alone.

How he felt about the marriage, Booth wasn't as sure. He had feelings for her, of that he was certain. But love? The kind that a marriage was built on? He would have liked time to explore any growing feelings before taking that step.

There'd been that kiss they'd shared a couple years before. That had produced some interesting fantasies. But marriage, based off a solid partnership and one kiss was a stretch.

Bones was his friend. Best friend if he was forced to give it a label. He could at least say he'd married his best friend. That didn't sound as bad as a wedding he couldn't recall.

He was a romantic, and if Booth was going to marry someone, he'd at least like to remember it after the event.

Which was why he was here, retracing their steps from the night before. His memory wasn't filling in the gaps very well. He hoped a visit to the place where it had happened might help that along.

At least it hadn't been a drive through chapel. Somehow, in his drunken state, he'd managed to find them a cute building just off the strip. And while it was still a quickie wedding joint, it wasn't so cheesy he felt like a total jerk for bringing Bones there.

Shit. Where was his mind even at? Was he upset about this marriage, or not?

The man who'd made the comment had appeared in several flashes of memory. An older gentleman with white hair and a happy smile, Booth wondered exactly how many weddings he'd performed over the years. And how many people couldn't remember them the next morning.

"And you didn't think we were too drunk to get married?" Booth demanded. "You just let random drunk people stroll in off the street and exchange vows?"

The gentleman slowed his steps and finally stopped a good distance away from Booth. "You seemed a little tipsy," he said with a shrug, "but you aren't the first tipsy couple Gwen and I have seen. Besides, I kind of make a living off drunk people strolling in and getting married. Sober people too. You two seemed like you were somewhere in the middle. Drunker than you looked?" he guessed.

"Gwen?" It was the name Booth recognized from the license. And the only thing he wanted to focus on in that speech. Booth figured it didn't matter whether they were drunk or sober. At the end, he and Bones were still married. "Was she the witness?"

"Yes, and my wife. I'm Greg." His blue eyes softened around the edges. "We met last night. It was Seeley Booth if I'm remembering correctly. An unusual name. I'm guessing you have some questions about what happened?"

Booth narrowed his eyes at him. "How do you know that?"

The chuckle was full of sympathy. "You aren't the first for that either." He motioned toward some white chairs. "Why don't we sit down."

Greg sat and waited until Booth settled into the row behind him. Turning, Greg threw an arm over the chair and smiled gently. "Do you remember any of it?"

Booth shook his head. "Flashes, mostly. Showing identification and signing papers. You. I have images of you standing in front of us." The papers were now folded carefully and carried in his pocket. "I take it everything has already been filed?"

Had Booth kissed her at the end? He couldn't remember. And was too embarrassed by their behavior to ask about that part.

Greg nodded. "First thing this morning. It's too late to prevent a record. But according to your identification, you're pretty far from home. No one has to know unless you tell them. File divorce papers and move on with your lives."

Easier said than done. "Were we…," Booth trailed off. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head toward the floor. Knowing the only way to get the truth was to ask, Booth leaned back and squared his shoulders. "Did we look like we were in love, or at least that we liked each other? I wasn't…, she didn't…"

"You weren't forcing her to do anything," Greg said, reading his thoughts. The questions this man asked were fascinating and unusual. Most asked how to make it go away or were angry at the partner they'd married. This man was too concerned about the young woman he'd exchanged vows with not to care for her. "You held hands and answered all the questions. Both of you seemed, if not over the moon happy, at least content with what you were doing. Neither I, nor my wife, saw anything that made us uncomfortable with the event."

That was a relief. Booth had spent quite a few terrible minutes worrying that he'd forced Bones into doing something. Normally, she could easily defend herself, but if they'd both been that drunk, it was hard to say.

"If you don't love each other, a quickie marriage is pretty to easy to fix. Especially if both of you agree it was a mistake," Greg offered. "It probably won't ruin what you had before you walked in here."

Booth snorted. "Not sure I can define what we had before," he admitted. "We were friends. We are friends," he corrected. "Had the potential to be something more, once upon a time. But I was sure that opportunity had long passed us by."

Why he was confessing to this man, a stranger, Booth had no idea. But the longer he was separated from Bones, the more he was struggling with what had happened. Frustrated and angry with her decision to run instead of stay, Booth was desperate for some sort of guidance. A man who knew nothing about their history and would never see them again seemed like the safest bet at that moment.

Besides, who could he call? He doubted Bones would tell anyone and if she didn't want anyone to know, he had no intention of breaking that confidence.

Not that he wanted to share it either. How would they ever explain what happened to their colleagues and friends?

"Alcohol has a way of lowering inhibitions. There was something there, between both of you, that made you guys think it was a good idea. I've seen drunken weddings before. And I've known those weddings won't last longer than the hangover. I didn't see that between the two of you. It was more like the drinks gave you both the courage to do something you'd always wanted but were afraid to admit to."

Greg sympathized with the man in front of him, but knew he wasn't wrong. There had been love between the man and the woman he'd married the previous evening. "Have you tried to talk to her?" Greg asked when the silence stretched on.

"Took off before I could." Booth rose and started toward the door. Similar to the way he'd just decided to do. "I need to get home, but my flight doesn't leave for too many hours. Maybe I can go back to the bar until then."

"It's Vegas," Greg said, also rising. "There's plenty to do here to keep you busy."

The wild, panicked look that flew through the other man's eyes gave Greg pause. He recognized that look. "Tell you what," he offered suddenly. "Why don't you come into the back with me. I have a couple of jobs I could use a second man to finish. And as much as I love my wife, she isn't very handy. Then I'll drive you to the airport."

"You don't know me," Booth said. He was alarmed at how much he wanted to turn down the man's offer and go back to the casinos. He also knew he was going to have to take the hand that was being offered. It was more than what Bones had given him. "I could be a crazy serial killer."

"You could," Greg agreed. "But I'll take my chances. You catch serial killers. At least that's what I'm guessing. You used your work id, not a driver's license. You aren't one. A serial killer, I mean."

Booth swallowed and forced himself to nod. "Thank you."

"Come on," Greg said, leading him through a hidden door to the area behind. "You can tell me all about that pretty girl you married."

Shaken, relieved at the kind offer, Booth followed him. "Bones," he said as he disappeared into the back. "I call her Bones."

OoOoOoOoOo

Brennan felt guilty as soon as the plane was in the air. But until that point, she hadn't been able to think.

She was married. Temperance Brennan, scientist, didn't believe in marriage. Didn't believe love was anything but chemicals. Chemicals and feelings that faded as a relationship aged. As with all other things, eventually the man that thought he loved her would leave her behind.

Booth was more than just her work partner. He was her best friend, had helped her when she wasn't sure who she even was. When her identity had been torn into pieces.

Now, she didn't know who she was again. Was she just a scientist who spent most of her time standing over dead bodies? Was she even capable of loving someone enough to sustain a relationship, much less a marriage?

And why was she even thinking about the marriage when it would end as soon as the lawyers could pull up the paperwork? There was no way she'd consider ever trying to make this farce work.

She didn't love him. Wasn't even sure what love was. Marriage wasn't something Brennan could do or understand.

But she worried now. Worried that she'd left him at the worst time in the worst possible place. Was worry love? Brennan honestly didn't know.

Her phone was in her lap where she'd finally left it. She checked it a hundred times before getting on the plane, looking for a message from Booth. And there were the hundred other times she'd started to text him before erasing what she'd written.

There was no way he hadn't seen the marriage license and certificate by now. What wasn't he calling her in a panic, demanding to know what had happened? Or asking what they planned to do about it? Instead there was nothing but silence.

She half expected him to show up at the airport, but he hadn't done that either. She didn't understand any of it and had no one to turn to for help.

Her biggest fear was that he was gambling. She'd left him in a place where he was vulnerable and Brennan hated herself for it. Hated that her lack of emotional understanding had forced her to run before considering the consequences.

There was no one for her to talk about this with. Except Booth. They'd have to talk about it to end the fake marriage. How could they be partners and not talk about it? It would color every conversation they'd have for the near future. Possibly long after that. And she'd have to pretend everything was okay between them when it clearly wasn't.

She didn't want to figure this out or analyze emotions she didn't understand. Was there a chance Booth would fight her on this? What if he wanted to stay married? That was ridiculous. He couldn't love her like the. There was no way it was possible.

"I can't do this," she whispered. Toying with the phone in her lap, twisting it over and over again, she finally turned it on. And paid for the inflight phone service.

I'm sorry

She couldn't think of what else to say. Except she could.

Are you okay?

It wasn't what she wanted to ask. Brennan wanted to ask if he was gambling. If she'd made a choice that had hurt him beyond repair.

When no response came, the anxiety made her stomach ache. She was on the verge of a full blown panic attack when her phone vibrated.

Fine

One word that answered her question and told her nothing. Alarmed to realize she was close to tears, again, she turned the phone off and put it into her bag. Closing her eyes, Brennan didn't speak again. And barely moved until her plane touched down in DC, afraid that any movement would shatter her like glass.