I've been writing Booth & Brennan fics for months now and finally decided to upload one. Here's my take on what should have happened in 5x22 because I'm still crying over Booth and Brennan holding hands and then leaving each other for seven months.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones (or Booth would be wearing that gun holster a lot more often!)

1 year. 52 weeks. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. 31,536,000 seconds.

Without him.

Without Booth.

Her partner, her friend, her something more.

He is turning around now, towards Afghanistan and army attire and terrorist ridden towns. Brennan hasn't thought about him dying since the night he got shot in the karaoke bar. As long as she is there, he is safe, her mind has irrationally worked out. She doesn't have a gun nor a physicality like him, but she is his partner. She is there to make sure he makes it home every night.

She doesn't want him to be the hero, the martyr.

He has to come home.

She is still looking back at him. His hair looks funny with its side part. It reminds her of their first case when he was nothing more than the attractive FBI agent who she stupidly kissed one day and then slapped the next. They were young then and didn't realize the significance of having a partner.

Having a partner. Not had a partner.

He will come home. He will come home. He will come home.

She needs to turn around; her flight is next. Her future could change in Maluku: ground breaking discoveries regarding the beginnings of mankind would put her in yet another scholarly journal. Her and Daisy may completely change the way scientists view human ancestry. That is important. That is worth more than her job of catching killers. She could alter the study of anthropology forever.

He is walking even further away while her feet seem glued to the floor, her eyes transfixed on him.

Her Booth.

She rejected him months ago, leaving them with different versions of heartbroken. He was heartbroken for their present; she was heartbroken for their future. She loves him, she swears. He is the tangible version of the rush of brain chemicals that give people the feeling of love. It is the way she breaks into a smile when he is around and yearns for his small touches and loves the sound of his laugh and breathes in his scent that is so characteristically him. She loves him, but he deserves the greatest form of love. She doesn't know if she can give it to him. The man who deserves the universe cannot be happy with just the glow of a star.

Not seeing his smile for a year is a difficult thought to stomach. It consumes his face in a way that defies anatomy. Somehow his muscles and tendons do not snap under the wideness of his stretched lips and revealed teeth. He has a variety of smiles: joy, charm, triumph. But then there is the one he has reserved for her. She noticed it years ago and it never ceases to amaze her. It is his brightest smile. The one that touches his dark eyes and adds touches of gold. A smile built upon care.

And then there are his hugs. Not just "guy hugs", but hugs of comfort and warmth and the closest thing she has ever come to having a home. It is in his arms. He pulls her flush against his body and rests his chin on her shoulder while his hands rub circles onto her back. She can close her eyes, and she's there, right back in his embrace. But what if that fades away within the year? She doesn't want to feel cold again.

She has been standing there for only seconds, but it feels like hours as his boots march towards the exit. Her chest tightens and hurts, and she is not sure if she is breathing. Is that love? Is that enough? If she cannot breathe unless she knows he will be there when she needs him?

"Booth!"

The word leaves her lips as soon as she takes in a shaky breath.

She's not sure if he's heard her until he turns around. A wave of confusion crosses his face as he slowly turns on his heels, eyes slightly widening. He starts to walk towards her, unsteady, unsure.

Her five friends standing close by make a sound of shock, but she barely registers it and goddammit why is he walking so slow?

So she begins running. She drops her suitcase and runs right towards him, towards a future. There is no time for regrets. She weaves between people and can see Booth break out into a jog, befuddlement now claiming his lips as his mouth opens as if to ask "What are you doing, Bones?!"

This is it. This is their moment. It was not their tragic kiss in front of the Hoover Building. It is now.

She's read books where the man and the woman fling themselves at each other in a passionate kiss that three hundred pages have worked towards. It seems irrational to be so driven by emotions. Emotions are fleeting and a kiss could be forgotten.

Until now.

She practically lunges at him, hooking her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth against his shocked one. His lips are soft, and he tastes like cheap coffee. His initial noise of surprise dissolves into content like sugar on the tongue as his hands settle onto her hips and pull her even closer. Her hands find his jaw, and he tips his head to kiss her even harder.

It's this. Kissing him and craving the warmth on his skin and forgetting that strangers surround them. He takes her away to his version of reality she has always wished to see. It is bright and brings her back to being ten years old. The feelings of hope and childhood optimism that were stolen from her only years later and replaced with calculations and hypotheses. She finds them in his smile that is against her lips which would have her crumbling to the floor if it weren't for for his grip.

He smells like the spiced shampoo she used that one time she crashed at his house after a long case. It's comforting and him. But then there is the scent of his army uniform. It's stale and doused in lemon detergent. It's not the fresh linen redolence of his work shirts and jackets. It is what he left years ago only to have her force it back upon him when she decided to leave for the Maluku Islands. It's all so wrong.

She breaks the kiss, her hands resting on his chest. His eyes open, and they look like their favorite type of chocolate ice cream to share. He bashfully tries to hide his smile, but it's trapped in his tinged cheeks and bright eyes. She smiles back before time resumes and reality makes its presence known again

"Don't go." Her words shake. "I can't watch you go."

"It's my service to our country." His gaze falls. "Plus, what else am I supposed to do while you're in the Maluku Islands? There is no other forensic anthropologist I want to work with."

"I'll stay. We can continue working together." Her throat hurts. She can't cry, not yet. He needs to hear her out.

"No, Bones, I can't make you do that. You could be making history with your discoveries out there. I can't take that away from you." He looks like he could cry too.

"I've already made several discoveries. Ms. Wick can take the credit for this one."

"You're the best forensic anthropologist in the world, not her. There is no end to what you can do, and you shouldn't limit yourself. C'mon, you said it yourself. A year isn't that long. We'll see each other again before you know it."

"Booth…"

"I'm serious, Bones. We can pick up on whatever this is when we get back. It'll be fun reading about you in the newspapers while I'm out in Afghanistan. It gives me something to look forward to. I can rub it in everyone's faces that my partner is changing the science world. I can—"

She grabs his hands, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "Booth, stop. Just stop." It feels like she can't breathe, but she swallows and grits her teeth. "When we first became partners, I saw you as nothing more than someone who helped me with my job. You were fun, but you mostly annoyed me because I had never met someone who challenged me so much."

He smiles a little at that.

"But then you became my friend. I looked forward to solving cases with you and then celebrating afterwards. You cared about me when I thought people forgot how to. And I'm sorry I said no to you a couple months ago. I thought I couldn't be enough for you. I still don't know if I can be enough for you."

His eyes are glazed over with tears, and he pulls her into a hug. It is not like a hug they've had before. It is tight and crushing and conveys more than words could say.

"You're enough." He whispers. "You're more than enough."

"Stay then. Don't be a hero out there," she says into his jacket.

"But Maluku and the earliest humans ..." he lets out a soft protest.

"You're worth more than any discovery, Booth."

He kisses her at that. He kisses her so hard, it almost hurts. She doesn't even try to quell her shriek of surprise when he hoists her into his arms. She hooks her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. They're making a scene, she knows it. But she doesn't care. This is it. This is their moment.

"How am I supposed to explain to my superiors why I'm not returning to base?" He asks in between the brush of her lips.

"At the same time I try to tell my superiors as to why Ms. Wick arrived in Maluku alone." She laughs.

"We're going to make some very important people mad."

"They can always find replacements."

He hums in agreement.

When he puts her back down, she immediately intertwines her fingers with his. They don't need to label it except that it feels right. Booth will probably say it's meant to be. There is no scientific data to support that conclusion, but she'll let it slide by. After everything they have been through, they are still able to find their way back to each other. Kidnappings and beatings and near leavings. They've made it.

She tries not to note how her hand fits perfectly with his. Or how his mouth claims her lips just right. Or how her head rests under his chin like pieces of a puzzle.

It is unexplainable, but for once in her life, she doesn't need definites.

He is here, and she is home.

Give me some reviews please? :)