Spoilers: For potentially EVERY Bones episode so far. Excuse me for my laziness and refusal to be specific.

Disclaimer: I once again, do not own Bones. I wished upon a star once, but I don't believe in wishes and neither does Dr. Brennan

Hey everyone! I just want to dive right into this one but I want to give a warning. This will have spoilers for the finale. If you haven't seen it yet and don't want to be spoiled, do not read!

By the way, Science Friday had a great segment last week on hoarders; I do believe this week's victim was based on Homer Collyer. He starved to death after being crushed by a booby trap, that he setup in paranoia, which dropped heavy objects on top of him. The police had to go in through the upstairs window to even get in! Just in case you are interested!

B&B

"So Bones, here we are. What's all the mystery about?"

"I've been offered the chance to head up the Maluku Island project."

"Yeah, I heard… Daisy told Sweets, and Sweets told me."

"Oh I-… I'd like to accept."

"…I thought you already had."

"We've been partners for five years Booth; I wouldn't make a decision like this before talking to you-"

"Bones look, you don't need my permission okay? It's cool."

"Y-You say that, but you won't look at me. You're the one who taught me the value of making eye contact… so please?"

"Sorry… I just don't do really good with change I guess."

"Better than I am…"

"Pyramids are better at change than you are…it's a joke okay? I was being affectionate."

"Ohhh… will you go back to the army?"

"It's what's best for me right now."

"I'll only be gone for a year-"

"-Me too. Ah so what's a year?"

"It's the time for the earth to make a full revolution around the sun."

"In the scheme of things, you know, the grand scheme just sayin' a year is just… you know… not too bad."

"Right."

"Right."

"We can come back, pick up where we left off. Nothing really has to change."

"No, things have to change... I taught you about eye contact, you taught me about evolution. So… here's the change."

"To change…"

Temperance Brennan never had difficulty saying goodbye; despite its derivation from 'God be with ye.' Dealing in absolutes, hover, was generally unwise. Never was misleading, as the farewell she had just uttered tore her apart; metaphorically of course.

"Sorry, I couldn't get a pass. I had to sneak off the base to come say goodbye. Listen Bones… you gotta be really careful in that Indonesian jungle okay?

"Booth… in a week you are going to a war zone… please don't be a hero… please just… don't be you."

"…One year from today… we meet at the reflecting pool on the mall. Right by the-"

"-Coffee cart. I know. One year from today."

She boarded on to first class, settling into the spacious seat. A foot rest popped up with a press of a button as she rolled her shoulders to relieve the stress of her short day.

"Dr. Brennan!" a delighted Daisy Wick squealed. "Oh. My. Gosh! They upgraded me to first class and I get to sit next to you! What a crazy coincidence huh?"

Brennan suppressed an annoyed groan; she was looking forward to getting some space from the always-jubilant and overly-energetic Ms. Wick. After all, she would have to spend a full year with the young anthropologist.

I wonder if she ever sleeps…

"How cool is first class?"

She glared at Daisy as she buckled the lap belt and kicked the footrest back in.

"But you wouldn't say cool… you would say dignified… or something."

"Flight crew prepare for takeoff," the static-filled speaker said.

She felt weary and beaten down. Booth had snuck off base to see her; hopefully his visit wouldn't garner too much trouble. He was running to danger anyway! He had a son! No child deserved to lose a parent! She knew what it was like to lose both parents, halving the pain still was nothing easy to handle.

Booth was still unaware of the college fund she had setup for Parker when he fell into a coma post brain surgery. She couldn't help but think of what would happen if he had stayed comatose; or now, to be injured in a volatile and dangerous region.

He could die you know. Or become crippled, tortured…

He was always supposed to be there; like a slab of immoveable granite that weathers even the harshest conditions.

But yet, you are the one running…

Booth was a warrior; a Spartan of sort. He was fine living in bare-bones conditions to fight and train others. Spartans only received his name on his tombstone if he was killed in battle. Was Booth this way? Did he desire to die as a valiant hero protecting others?

You might never see him again…

The plane took off from Reagan National, banking steeply to avoid the Washington D.C. 'no fly zone.' It jetted west, putting miles of vertical and horizontal space between Brennan and Booth. Afghanistan was only approximately 7300 kilometers apart; not relatively far.

"Good afternoon," the pilot's gruff tenor voice spoke over the speaker. "Looks like it will be smooth sailing from here to Jakarta. The flight will be about 21 hours and 41 minutes, arriving at 11:58 PM local time. Enjoy the ride."

No turning back now…

Brennan felt tears coming on; she quickly covered her eyes with the free sleeping mask to hide her emotional anguish. Ms. Wick was nosily chatting with a perky flight attendant; hopefully she would be oblivious to her sniffling.

You said "I love you," to Dr. Hodgins, but you couldn't even say it to Booth?

How had she moved in to such an emotionally compromising position? Like a scientist examining the context of a discovery, she would take a few large steps back and apply a clinical eye to her life.

"Dr. Brennan?" Daisy prodded. "Are you asleep?"

"Not anymore," she lied, pulling off the eye-mask. She hoped that tears wouldn't be evident on her face.

"As both my role model and one of the most distinguished and honored anthropologists of all time… may I ask your advice?

"Sure…" she answered cautiously.

"Great!" Daisy bubbled. "So I broke up with Lancelot, I mean Lance. What do you think?"

Ms. Wick may be a bright anthropologist (why would she have hired her otherwise?), but she was certainly ignorant in some areas. Even Angela, her closest 'girlfriend,' didn't often solicit her for relationship advice. Quite frankly, counsel of this manner made her uneasy; it would be a fact less response, solely grounded in opinion. It wasn't that she wouldn't answer, but rather, the concern she felt for the quality of her response.

"I think that your romantic rift is logical considering the physical fit between you two," she said mater-of-factly.

"Do you think he'll wait for me?"

How long would Booth wait? She already pushed him away once, and he found a female companion within weeks. What if he found someone in the Army?

"I don't know, but I advise you to go through the preliminary material I have prepared for our trip."

"Yes Dr. Brennan!" Daisy mocked saluted, nodding eagerly.

Booth would be saluting a lot in the coming year…

Brennan turned in to the jazz radio channel aboard the plane reviewing the travel information to the dig site. They were flying to Jakarta, Indonesia via Tokyo, Japan; luckily, they didn't have to switch planes. Then, they would stay in the airport until 4:00 PM the next day, when they would board to Dili, Timor-Leste. They would then meet the rest of the team on the Maluku Islands by boat.

"Would you like anything to drink?" a flight attendant pushing a beverage cart said. But Brennan only saw the attendant's mouth move due to the jazz playing within her noise-cancelling headphones.

"Scotch," she said rather loudly. The alcohol would aid her sleep.

The attendant nodded, passing the scotch bottle and cup over Daisy.

Oh yes, she would need the sleep alright. She couldn't shake the look on Booth's face when they made eye contact for the final time. His jaw was firmly set, as if he were holding back something. Tears perhaps? Part of her desperately hoped that their separation would hurt him just as much as it would hurt her. She had a feeling it would; after all, he had professed his love to her.

If only you had the courage, like him…

Booth had the heart of a lion no doubt; if one were inclined to play with metaphors in such a way. He was a hero. He was a Christian hero, abiding by Christian morals. He was an Arthurian hero, chivalric and just. He certainly wasn't an anti (brooding) hero, as Angela had introduced her to with a pointless evening of some TV show called "Angel."

"Good evening passengers," a flight attendant announced over the loud speaker. "Tonight's movie is The Garden State on channel 17. We will now dim the cabin lights."

Brennan typically kept herself very busy while flying; she always had chapters to compose for her novels, or something of use to read. But, with nothing better to do, she tuned to channel 17.

The Garden State, like many other movies, was a story of romance between an epileptic, pathological liar, and a man dealing with psychological movies. Like many tales, a theme of awakening and new awareness was woven through.

Unfortunately, the movie barely held her attention and she found herself drifting off until the movie's final scene. By this time, she had slumped back into the seat, her headphones hung lackadaisically, wilting off her head.

The main characters were in an airport, not unlike the one she had just recently departed from. The couple talked, embracing and finishing the movie off with a smoldering kiss.

Is that was meant to happen back in that airport? A kiss? Brennan had felt the pangs of want and desire for months now, perhaps she felt it even earlier. For months, she had been (and still was) celibate, and not by any enforced code as Angela had. Reluctantly, she had to acknowledge that she was waiting on Booth, even if she didn't have the audacity to make the first move.

Impatient and upset, Brennan slid her laptop out of its protective bag. She turned it, hiding it from the inquisitive Daisy's line of sight. She booted up, claiming the free Wi-Fi that first class and her large amount of frequent flier miles afforded.

"8 New Messages," the email browser read.

From: Seeley Booth

To: Temperance Brennan

Bones! I don't know if you will still be able to use this email, but I figure they wouldn't take it from you for just a year of leave right? I'm leaving in a week; they say internet is hard to come by in the desert, so I don't know when I'll be able to email you next.

I don't have much time, but now you have my new email address. Stay safe.

Your Caring Partner,

Booth

Sergeant Major Booth, 1st Rangers lead the way

Albeit the chaste manner of which the email was written, something about it was deeply intimate in nature. Perhaps she was reading too much into the words and making much ado about nothing.

"Ooo! Dr. Brennan! You have internet!" Daisy gushed, leaning deeply into Brennan's personal space to peer at the screen. "Oh and an email from Booth! Hey, would you mind if I checked my Facebook?"

Brennan cleared her windows, being sure to log out of anything private.

"Thanks so much!" the enthusiastic anthropologist raved.

Just 365 days left of this…

B&B

Admittedly, Sergeant Major Booth was having difficulty settling back in to the Army style of life. Although that fighting spirit and national pride never left you, it was easy to forget the woes of communal living in the barracks. He missed the personal space, and the freedom to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted. In a way, the Army was like having another mother; except this one paid you a crap wage, told you where to go, how high to jump, and could throw you in the brig if you refused. And for the record, the brig is much worse than sitting in the corner as far as punishments go. Not that he would know; his only trip to the brig was a brief visit.

After hitting the 'send' button on that email to Bones, Booth felt immediately guilty that he hadn't written more. "Not much time?" What kind of fool was he? Military life was full of "hurry up and wait" situations. All he had to do was become reacquainted with the military before shipping out. He was FBI; it's not like he spent his off time doing some desk job.

Luckily though, the FBI was willing to treat his deployment like they would an Army Reserve member; his job, office, (and hopefully, partner) would be waiting for him when he returned.

His decision had been so swift that he hadn't even gotten a going away party; not that it mattered.

"Sergeant Major Sir," a young Corporal entered the room. "The current officer in charge of insurgent apprehension would like to speak to you sir."

"Thanks and at ease," Booth walked towards the command center.

Sergeant Major was the highest enlisted rank in the Army. He was always was glad he didn't get sent off to Officer Candidate School (OCS); he liked the dirty work, the fighting, the soldier to soldier interaction. He wore the Sergeant major chevron on his upper arm; an insignia with three stripes on top and bottom, surrounding a five-pointed star. The Command Sergeant Major collar insignia (the U.S. coat of arms) was pinned to his uniform, signifying his rank further. His combat action pin sat upon his chest; a reminder of his performance under live fire and imminent danger.

Booth entered the office of Major Michael Ward, a distinguished Ranger veteran. He saluted as protocol demanded.

"At ease Sergeant Major, at ease." The Major rose from his desk, grasping Booth's hand in a firm and confidant handshake. "Welcome back to the Army."

"It is excellent to serve my country sir."

"Sit, would you kindly," Ward sifted through a nearby filing cabinet.

"Permission to speak freely sir?"

"Granted."

"Is there no one else that can train these soldiers as I can?"

Ward chuckled warmly. "Ah, you'd be surprised how difficult it is to find a combat veteran, still in fighting shape and in law enforcement. Yes, I know there are plenty of the type of guy I just described, but to get someone with your service record and FBI experience is... unique."

"I'm flattered sir."

"So tell me Sergeant Major Booth," Ward settled back down behind his desk. "What made you decide to rejoin for a year?"

"Don't you have my files sir?" Booth asked.

"Of course, but pieces of paper can only tell me so much!"

Booth already knew he was going to like this guy. In his days in the Army, one always ran into the commissioned officers that were trained to sit at desks, but instead ending up as an inadequate unit commander. Major Ward, was no such man.

"Well, I think that helping to save lives for a year is what's best for me."

"Got a kid?"

"A son, named Parker."

"Got a girl?"

He laughed. "No."

The hardened Major leaned over his desk, "Between you and me, your mouth says no, but your eyes are tellin' me somethin' completely different."

"It's complicated sir," he smiled.

"Well, I see no reason to hold you any longer. Briefs will be distributed closer to the date of deployment. You take it easy there."

Booth saluted, "Yes sir!"

He wandered over to the mess hall, looking for a bite to eat. He grabbed a cafeteria tray, swinging in to the empty queue. He just felt like he needed something in his stomach. Without on-base orders, Booth had hours of unoccupied time. He spent some at the firing range, becoming reacquainted with the weaponry, some meeting and greeting troops, and the rest, just sitting around.

Idleness always bothered him; he wasn't making any progress on base. He wasn't helping to train soldiers to be effective and make it out alive. He wasn't useful at the moment.

Just a week until he would ship out, and then just a few short months until he was back in Washington D.C. nabbing baddies.

Just 365 days to go...

B&B

Buckle you seat belts! Because this one is going to be a multi-chap! I really would love your feedback and reviews, it's the only way I can grow and improve. So review!

Next chapter: Booth ships out, Brennan settles into Maluku.

- Objective Mistress