A/N Here's the last chapter. I'm sorry for the long wait for this one; real life caught up with me. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading this story in its entirety :)

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Bilbo grows old. Which, he supposes, is only to be expected.

It's not that he resents his old age. He's grateful for the time he's been given to dwell on his memories and create new ones. Besides, no ache in his weary bones can make him regret the precious time he's had with his nephew. It's just that time is a rather cruel mistress and it has escaped him as easily as trickling water through cupped hands.

Despite the fact that the year or two spent journeying to and from Erebor felt never-ending, the subsequent years have whizzed past as if in an instant. It's time he never expected to have when he set out on the quest, but he can't help but feel that he could have done so much more with it.

The Shire is as green and bright as it always has been. Its peaceful atmosphere contrasts so heavily with the nature of his adventures that it is almost dizzying at times, however Bilbo is grateful for the comforts of home. He knows that his fellow hobbits see him as an oddity now – antisocial, aloof, and possibly quite mad – but their attitudes humour him more than anything else.

It is nice to laugh, in spite of everything. It is nice to grab a slice of personal heaven as he spends each night by the flickering fire with a good book within reach and a hot broth warming his hands. Sometimes he can forget all that was lost. Everything that occurred all those years ago in a distant land that seems to exist solely in his dreams. The pain never truly vanishes but it has dulled somewhat. Age and experience has helped him deal with such burdens.

And so he continues to live as he'd always wanted to - surrounded by calm in the comfort of home. It's more than Bilbo could ever have asked for really. He may be compensating a little for the madness unleashed by the arrival of the dwarven company all those years ago, but it's enough.

And - Bilbo finds eventually - it is so much easier to accept his continued existence when he realises that he'd never let go of his friends in his mind. They still exist in his heart and mind and somewhere else that he's sure to venture to eventually.

He has no idea where that place is or what it looks like or if he'll even find them when he makes it there. He just hopes that 'there' is as beautiful as he's always been told.

Bilbo dies eventually. This doesn't really surprise him either.

It's a quiet death, one that seems rather understated given all he's been through. Nevertheless, unlike with Thorin and Fili and Kili, it happens at the right time and when Bilbo opens his eyes to a foreign land he experiences not disappointment but relief.

And then, ultimately, confusion.

A rather worn, circular green door faces him but as much as it resembles his own, he knows it cannot be. He'd had his own painted barely a week before whereas this one has peeled paint and frayed splinters and a simple carving that seems familiar although he's not entirely sure why.

Bilbo extends a hand that, to his surprise, is white and smooth and holds none of the scars that age had dealt it. He thinks for a moment that this must be a dream but the wood feels a little too cold against his skin, a little too real. The sound of the knock echoes before fading into nothingness and he wonders if he's doing something wrong before the door finally peels back to reveal two suspiciously smug faces.

"Fili-"

"And Kili."

"At your service!"

They bow in an overly dramatic fashion and Bilbo laughs more heartily than he has in years before grabbing them both in a tight embrace, ignoring their startled protests. He had forgotten how much he'd missed their smiles and childish laughter but here they were at last. Whole and warm and full of life in such a way that it feels comical given their shared predicament. It's only when they're both gasping for air between laughter that Bilbo finally lets them go, marvelling at how little they've both changed in spite of so much time.

Kili brushes down his now crumpled blue shirt and barely hides a blush while Fili glances at him, an amused glint in his eyes. Bilbo almost feels awkward before he notices the mock annoyance in the younger brother's eyes as he exclaims, "You're late! We've been waiting for ages!"

Bilbo chuckles before joining in the charade, feigning bashfulness while reciting a mock apology that threatens to ruin Kili's act. Fili smirks before lightly smacking the back of his brother's head, earning himself a glare in response. "What my brother is trying to say is that it's good to finally see you again, Mister Baggins."

"And you," Bilbo responds, and he means it more than he thinks he's ever meant anything in his life. He steps inside the hobbit hole and stares in awe as he realises just how much it resembles his own. Carefully ordered oak furniture, tidied shelves and warmly lit corridors and the faintest trace of laughter from what he assumes to be the dining room. There are a few missing details, as if the place is constructed from an incomplete memory, but it feels real and Bilbo is grateful for it.

An insistent hand tugs lightly at his arm and he looks into Kili's bright eyes as the dwarf attempts to lure him to the dining room. "Come on. There's someone who wishes to see you."

Bilbo freezes and his heart fills with a warmth that he'd thought would never house there again. He doesn't know if he dares let himself hope, but it's evident in his tone anyway as he quietly asks, "Who?"

Kili and Fili share a knowing look and they both grin, and that's enough to tell Bilbo that he hardly needs an answer. He finally lets himself give into hope and he follows the young dwarves' lead as he notes - with a stab of content joy - that the sense of finality he'd once feared does not really apply to him anymore. Not here.

It's in that moment – after years of suppressed grief – that Bilbo finally becomes grateful that he refused to ever say goodbye to his friends.