A five gets waved in front of his face and a definite rush starts going through his whole body as the money, still warm from Vinnie's pocket, goes into his hand.

This is the exact moment that he's hooked for life. Because even though he'll end up moving on to bigger, brighter venues and even bigger bets in the future, the thrill is always the same each and every time, exactly as it was back then when he was just a school kid. It's more than just about the money or the approval or the winning-it's the idea that anything is possible, that the tide can turn at any minute bringing luck and great things your way, that time can screech to a halt and that you can find yourself in a place that you actually want to stay at.

And he desperately needs to feel that way again, especially right now. Because this latest lead, the one that looked so promising this morning, has just fizzled out just like all the rest and he still has no clue as to where the hell she is.

He wants to feel like miracles are real, that anything can happen, that fate will smile on him tonight and that he has more than a decent chance of finding her waiting for him back at their house when he walks through the door, with his daughter in her arms.

Most of all, he needs a reason to come home and to want to stay there.

His daughter. He wonders if her two front teeth are out all the way and if she's eating real food now; if she's sitting up all by herself and maybe starting to crawl. Does she still have that little pink bunny that she couldn't fall asleep without and the soft purple blanket that she holds onto for dear life that he got for her on a whim?

Will Christine even remember him anymore, or will she start crying the minute he picks her up and takes her from her mother's arms? That one thought may be the most lacerating of all.

And what if it's worse than all that? If Bones isn't there tonight, then when will he see either of them again? Will Christine be walking, talking by then? Will anything be left of his relationship with Bones, the woman he doesn't even know how not to love even though he's raw and smarting from her absence, or will everything they have be gone just like the swirls of smoke coming out of that long-ago pool hall?

He sees them everywhere these days-in every corner play lot, sitting at restaurants, walking down the street; and it hurts, because even as his heart leaps when he sees even a passing resemblance, deep down he knows it's not them-it can't be. But mostly he sees them at home, Christine filling the empty rooms with her gurgles and her smiles, Bones filling his life with everything that she is and everything she does. It's the reason he stays late at work, surreptitiously working on her case when no one's around, and why he spends whatever time he can spare from this so-far barren search stewing at the firing range or at the gym, hitting and shooting imaginary people as replacements for the one animal he really wants to get.

It's also why, when almost everyone else in the city is sleeping, he walks the streets for hours on end, meeting with anyone and everyone who might have something to spill, doing it face to face so that sick bastard can't get a hold of anything he finds out. He should have just thrown him out of that window and taken his chances.

The fact is that he can't bear to be alone in that house anymore, with all their things mocking his loss. Christine's toys, Bones' jewelry still sitting on top of her dresser, the family pictures that are growing more and more outdated with every torn page from the calendar. Everything is a reminder that they had something amazing that is now gone, and that the two most important women in his life may not be coming back for a long, long time. He's been thinking it for a while, but tonight, for some reason, it finally gets acknowledged: he's reached his limit, and he can't take anymore of the way things are.

And looking through those smudged pool hall windows, his hair and jacket soaked through by the drizzle that has now turned to rain, his heart aches and his fingers automatically flex, the remembered feel of a smooth wood cue in his hand already making them burn.

Luck. Miracles. Possibilities. All available to him tonight, right now, for a price, and all he has to do is walk through the door of that no-name dive.

It would be a novelty to forget about how lonely he feels, to pretend he doesn't care about why she didn't tell him, why she couldn't trust him. Just another over-tired, anonymous man out to obliterate the memories of the day, waiting his turn to lose himself in the moment, like everybody else.

"Hey dude, you need something? You've been hanging around out there for a while" a muscled guy who's probably the bouncer asks while sticking his head out the door into the rain.

"Either come on in and play, or move on, okay buddy? It's starting to freak people out."

His palms are sweating despite the cold, and he fists his hands even deeper into his pockets hoping for some kind of reassurance even as his feet are starting to propel him closer towards the gates of hell. But then, his fingers bump into a jumble of change-and something else. It's his Pop's medal, the one that's supposed to protect travelers and pilgrims against all sorts of evil as they go on their personal quests, all tangled up with his worn poker chip. Together, they're more than just good luck charms; they're lifelines and reminders of the kind of person he's supposed to be, and he suddenly grips them hard, pressing them between his fingers over and over again just like he did that ten dollar bill all those years ago.

After a minute he waves at the guy and walks on by; he's not a kid anymore in need of a hideout, and he's not staying.

Because that pool hall could never hold the strong, moral man that he knows Bones is desperately trying to get back to. There's no room in there for the good, loving father that his daughter will hopefully be happy to see one day. That man belongs in his house-in their house-doing everything he can to put his family back together again even on this, the darkest of nights.

Temptation fades with each passing step and he finds himself praying for one more win.

And this time, he's sure that God's going to pick sides; he has to.