Next chapter, enjoy. =]

Music blared so loudly across the packed club that it made the floor pound violently to the super-speeded beat of some sort of techno dance remix. There was a dozen or so of us scattered about the place. Most draped themselves off the bar, but a few of the most inebriated of Marks friends had braved the dance floor. As usual in these kinds of places, it was always the guys with the least rhythm and the worst coordination that felt the need to get up and dance. Tonight was no exception. Kyle and Rob had been in a competition to see who could down the most shots in one minute. By the time that minute passed, the competition was mostly forgotten and the pair of them decided it would be a good idea to show off the moves they'd thought so effective at scoring girls back in high school.

A few of us watched with huge amusement as Rob attempted some sort of pop-lock move that largely resembled a kind of rodent mating ritual. Kyle meanwhile, was doing an amazing impression of a pensioner style boogie, only at 5 times the speed, scuttling round and round in a tight circle around Rob.

We roared with laughter at the decidedly unimpressed expressions on the women next to them. It felt good. The grin on my face wasn't forced, although it was possibly helped along by the couple of drinks that had been compulsory on Mark's last night as a bachelor. I briefly thought about what Bones might say about the guys dancing, how it all stemmed from an ancient imperative to impress the female, or some even more confusing anthropological idea that I had trouble getting my head round.

The smile slipped off my face for a moment as I thought of my last conversation with Bones in the Jeffersonian when we'd returned from the crime scene.

"Here's the spare key. I'll be back Monday."

She takes it without looking up from her microscope and slips it into the pocket of her lab coat. "Have a nice trip."

"Yeah." I start heading back to my car, mentally running through any florists I can remember that are between the Jeffersonian and my apartment. "Well, um. Bye."

I winced again at the memory. Mark, tamely drunk, scrutinized my expression then yelled to the barman that we needed another round of drinks.

"Hey, Mark, I was wonderin'," Josh shouted in a slur, a moment later, over the monotonous drone of the music, "when are we gettin' out of here? I's Vegas! We gotta see Elvis, and beat 'im at poker!" He laughed louder than he yelled.

"Just as soon as we can get us all back together again. Then we'll hit the strip, man." Mark eyed the pair on the dance floor, who now seemed to be veering dangerously close to break dancing. "I reckon we should tear Kyle and Rob off the floor before they break something."

"Good idea!" Josh roared, and immediately set about rounding up the rest of our group, despite his drunken haze.

My mind panicked, but I kept it off my face this time. I reminded myself the need to breathe – in through the nose, out through the mouth - and kept repeating it to myself on a loop. We hadn't even got to the casino and my palms were already sweating and my mouth was dry.

But, behind that panic, there was a part of me, that was larger than I'd ever truly acknowledged, that was rubbing its hands in anticipation, already hearing the unmistakeable sound of chips stacking up. The sound of winning. The prospect of walking away with a fortune, always within such close reach, only one roll of the dice away, one turn of the card. More money than I could ever need, laid out in front of me, mine for the winning. If only I could stick it out for one more hand, just one more bet.

The thrill of it, more exhilarating than the actual aftertaste of the win, is the tension, the possibilities that it opens up to me. I could be anything, anyone. Existing in a shrinking world that extends only to the length of the table and lets me see nothing but the green cloth covered in chips and lines and dice and tears. Every sense is alive. Each curve and angle is so sharp, every colour amplified and only the sound of my own racing heart echoing in my ears. The smell of the sweat from the person next to me, as they watch their chips bleed away. Tension, tight as razor wire, lying on my tongue, flavouring my dry mouth with salt and sweetness. The smoothness of the dice in my hands, rotating steadily through my fingertips, the tiny indentations the difference between wealth and poverty. Focusing on nothing else. The people surrounding the table exist as I do, charging the air, making it electrifying.

I need to keep going, because there is no stopping until I've won it all.

Just. One. More. Bet.

I realised I'd stopped breathing. It felt like I'd been stood there motionless for an hour, but Mark was still laughing next to me, his gaze following Josh as he tried to pull Rob and Kyle off the dance floor by brute force.

I realised in that moment that I couldn't do it. I wasn't going to deliberately enter a casino when I didn't have to. Lead me not into temptation, right? It was my friends wedding; I wasn't going to ruin it for him by throwing myself back into a world I thought I'd escaped. And what about Parker? He deserved a better Dad than one like mine; nothing more than an addict who couldn't control himself. I already had too much in my past to make him ashamed of me. I refused to add anymore.

But these words paled next to the sudden violent urge in my chest that seemed to pull from the core of me, whispering fiercely to follow Mark and Josh and Kyle and Rob and taste the win and nothing else. I couldn't move an inch for fear of what I might do, that it would be the first step in the wrong direction. Or the right one. It would lead me back to my life of desperation 7 years ago. Not if I did it right this time. But I wouldn't do it right. It was impossible to do that. I'd just lose it all again. Fight to get it back, only falling further and further away. Then stop. Stop if I lose all the loose bills in my wallet. Can't hurt, right? $100 maybe? Think of that in comparison to what I'd get if I won. I wouldn't be able to stop. That was just wishful thinking. The thoughts of an addict, not worthy of a son who loves him, of friends who respect him, of a partner who-

I stopped in my tracks. Thought-wise anyway, since I was physically frozen solid.

Bones.

I drew in a quick, ragged breath. My Bones. Last time I was faced with this craving, this need, she'd been there. She'd taken my mind off my own personal hell, asked me if I was ok, and slapped my hand away from any slip up I made. I knew right then that if I was to make it through tonight, and the rest of the weekend, then she needed to be here. I needed her to be my distraction, my rock. Bones would be the one to save me from myself. I believed in her, and I knew that if I asked her to, she would come for me and help drag me out of this gutter I'd managed to drop myself into, yet again. I almost felt sick at the thought of her seeing me like this. But as the whispering started becoming more of a screech, I knew I had no choice. I just hoped she would forgive me. I just hoped she would not think less of me. I knew it was impossible, but all I could do was hope.

Motioning with a stiff jerk of my head to Mark, I managed to shuffle my iron legs out of the packed dance hall and back outside. There in the street the music was only an echoing thudding through the brick wall, and the cool breeze helped me regain some sort of coherent thought. With trembling fingers I drew my cell phone out of my pocket. I hit speed dial one and waited for the call to go through.

It only rang twice.

"Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"Bones?" My voice was hoarse from not breathing.

"Booth? I thought you were at a wedding." I guess she must have noticed the husking, almost desperate, tone in which I said her name. She sounded worried. "Are you ok?"

"How soon can you get a plane to Vegas?"

There was a brief pause as my words sunk in. For the thousandth time in the last hour my breath held in my chest, refusing to be expelled until she spoke again. I sent a quick prayer skywards and closed my eyes, waiting for the time lag to catch up. I didn't have to wait long.

"I'll be at the airport in half an hour."

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