A/N: There was an error uploading this chapter the first time, and I've gone through and fixed it. There was a section of text that was supposed to be in italics representing the past, and for some reason it wasn't. In case it still doesn't work, I've put three spaces in between the tense changes. Thank you, rocks and glass, for pointing this out, and sorry for the confusion!

Chapter One

Temperance was pacing. Had been pacing for the last several minutes. And Booth was getting agitated. He closed his eyes, her constant moving making him nauseous. It had been eleven minutes since they discovered their… predicament, and neither had said a word since. Temperance had gone to her duffle immediately, pulling on a pair of jeans. She'd also thrown Booth's duffle bag to him, and turned around. And then she began the pacing.

Temperance took a deep breath, and paused, looking directly at Booth. "Do you remember anything yet?" she asked. Booth looked over at her, frowning. He was seated on the bed, and he looked down at his bare feet, trying to think of what happened.

"I remember coming back here after wrapping up the case. You were talking on the phone, to Angela, I think. I was here." He got up and walked to the window. "I was looking out, staring at all of the casino lights." He stopped, turning back to her. "I remember hearing you ending the call and setting your phone on the nightstand."

Temperance set the phone on the nightstand. Booth was looking out the window, staring at all the glitz of Las Vegas. He turned to look at her, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. When they got back he'd changed into a clean pair of jeans, and a t-shirt. She called in to work immediately, and was still wearing the red dress.

"Booth? Are you okay?" she asked. He was staring at her, and he looked… sad.

"Yeah." It came out weak. He cleared his throat and repeated, "Yeah." They stood there, staring at each other for a minute before he sighed. "No. I, um, I can't stop thinking about going across the street to place a bet." He looked up to see Temperance turning around. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"I'm locking the door." She stepped away from the door and grabbed her bag. "And now I'm going to change." Booth looked at her, puzzled, as she closed the bathroom door.

Booth sat down on the bed, and flipped on the TV, curious as to what she was going to do next. He flipped through a few channels, but couldn't focus—he kept glancing over to the window. It had been a little over a minute since Temperance had entered the bathroom, but it felt like hours to Booth. So he shut off the TV, and headed to the door. As he slid the chain out of the lock a voice startled him. "No gambling!" Booth turned and saw Temperance crossing her arms and giving him a wide-eyed, authoritative look.

Booth looked to the side for a moment and then back to her, uttering, "What?" and trying to look innocent. Temperance rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. She dragged him to the side of the bed and said, "Sit."

Booth obeyed, mainly out of curiosity. "Um, what are you doing?" Temperance went back to the door and relocked it, then turned and headed to the desk. She picked up her laptop and the case file and sat down next to him on the bed.

"We are going to do all of the paperwork now. I don't want you to relapse." Booth groaned.

"I'm ok, ok? I can just watch TV, or something." Temperance shook her head.

"No, Booth. Filling out paper work, while often referred to as mindless, will distract you. You'll have to integrate your knowledge of the situation into—"

"Bones, I got it, OK? I've been doing paperwork for years just fine, without you having to explain it." He took a deep breath and grabbed a piece of paper. "At least now I won't have to do this back home."

"Yes, I remember that. We worked on the reports for a while, but then you asked me a question."

"What was the second reason?" Temperance looked up. They'd been working for almost an hour now.

"Excuse me?"

"You said there were two reasons you placed the bet on me." Temperance looked away as she grabbed the beer sitting on the nightstand. It was her second, but Booth was already on his third. They'd grabbed a six-pack on the way home, so they could celebrate the finished case.

"Oh, that. It's not important. Are you finished?" She gestured to the pile of papers in front of him.

"Yeah, you?" She signed the bottom and put the paper on the finished pile.

"Yup." Temperance took the papers and walked over to the desk. She set them down and brushed her hands over her jeans, smoothing out the wrinkles from sitting on the bed so long. She straightened the papers again, and put them away in her briefcase. Then she went to the mini-fridge in the room and pulled out the last beer.

"Bones? I'm serious. What was the other reason?" Temperance turned to look at Booth, and fidgeted with the strap of her black tank top.

"It's silly." She said shyly. "I thought that if I placed a bet on you, then, because of my 'beginner's luck', you couldn't lose." There was a pause, and Booth stared at her. "I know, silly, right?"

"No. Thoughtful… and sweet." He smiled. "Thank you, Temperance." She smiled at the use of her first name. They stayed there, just looking at each other for a minute before Booth looked down and turned to take a drink of beer. He lifted the bottle to his lips, and finished off the small amount of liquid left. He threw the bottle away, and opened the fridge. Finding nothing left, he turned to Temperance.

"What?"

"Yeah, you drank the last beer." Booth was pointing accusatorily at Temperance, the aggravation of not knowing exactly what happened grating on him.

"Hey, you were the one who suggested we go out for drinks!"

"You drank the last beer." Booth was smirking at Temperance, who was looking at him, feigning innocence.

"We each had three." She smiled. Booth laughed and closed the door. Then he went to the chair near the door and grabbed his jacket. He put it on and threw Temperance hers. "Where are we going?"

"There's a bar across the street."

"You mean the one in the casino? 'Cause we've been through this…" Booth groaned.

"I know, Mom." He exaggerated. "Other side of the street, next to that store and that chapel."

"Well nice work, hubby. Damn it! I should have just let you gamble." She was angry. Angrier than he'd ever seen her before.

"Yeah, you should have. You should have stopped being so Goddamn controlling, and let me be!" Fine. If she wasn't going to be constructive, than neither was he. Wait. She was acting kind of odd. She never lost control or panicked. Even when she was chasing down criminals, or fighting for her life, she was the epitome of calm. Was being married to him really worse than negotiating with a psycho killer?

A noise to Temperance's right startled her. She huffed at Booth and stormed over to her cell phone. "Brennan," she growled into the phone. Suddenly, she froze. She swallowed hard, and looked over at Booth. He, too, had heard her, and was looking back at her. As the realization that she was no longer technically Temperance Brennan washed over her, she closed her eyes. "Angela?"

There was silence for a moment as Angela's worried voice came through the phone. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Um, I'm gonna have to call you back, Ang. We, uh, have to get ready to check out."

"Ok, I'll see you soon, sweetie."

"Bye." Temperance took a deep breath as she ended the call. She turned to Booth, suddenly very aware of the time. "Um, we have check out in about a half hour. I'm gonna go take a quick shower." Before waiting for a response, she grabbed her duffle and fled to the bathroom.

Closing the door, Temperance leaned against it and slid to the floor. "Think, Temperance, think." She thought to herself, and tried to remember what exactly happened at the bar. But try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about one thing.

"My name is Temperance Booth."