A/N: This is my first Bones fic. I've written two other short one-shots for Lost and that's it, so I not a very experienced writer. However, my muse was working last week. My sister is in choir and her choir sang this really amazing song based on a famous letter written by a civil war soldier, Sullivan Ballou. The song pretty much brought me to tears and it got me to thinking. The words to that letter in many ways could be applied to Booth and Bones. The letter that Booth writes is a condensed version of Sullivan's letter, taken straight from the lyrics of the song. I obviously changed it a little to make it sound a little more modern. And I changed the names. The way the letter is written will be OOC for Booth, but I feel like his message would have been the same.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones and I don't own the letter that Sullivan Ballou wrote to his wife. But I wish someday a boy would write a letter like that to me.

The billowing dust cloud rushed upon him as he tried desperately to move, to shout. But there was no one around, no one to hear him. At least that was what he thought. Soon, bullets began to whiz by, narrowly missing him, their shrill whistling causing chills to run down his spine and his heart to flutter. As the sweat dripped down his back, he knew this was it, he was going to die. At any other time in his life, he would have willingly accepted this, tried to take out as many of the bastards that were shooting at him before he was shot down. He was a Christian man, a man of faith. He believed that he would go to heaven and live his eternal life in splendor, eating pie by day, watching hockey by night. He accepted that death was a part of life, and for him, it was just the beginning. But, now…..now he knew there were so many things left unsaid, so many things that he should have said. He couldn't bear to leave this earth without saying them, without letting her know how he felt. As if on cue, she walked from the dust cloud, looking to him like an angel. She was so beautiful. He tried to speak, to tell her he loved her, but he was not able to. It was as if his tongue had been glued to the roof of his mouth. He tried futilely, as the hard metal rained around him, until one of those bullets lodged into his chest. Her face swam before his eyes and shone with such elegance and grace. He reached out to stroke it, one last time, but in his efforts, he fell hard….and awoke with a jolt.

Seeley Booth trembled, breathless from cold, despite the sweltering air blowing through his tent. It had been two months, two months and six days since he had been sent to Iraq on an unknown mission. Two months and six days since he had last heard her voice, touched her porcelain skin, felt her silky hair as it brushed his stubbled cheek. Oh, how he loved her. And yet he never told her; she didn't know. He wanted to tell her the day that he left, but he feared the finality of the declaration. Saying he loved her felt too much like a goodbye. He wanted to believe that he would return, return to her, and reveal his feelings then. But Seeley Booth had been having dreams for the past two months and six days. The last time he was in combat, the dreams were about his dead comrades, reaching out for help; or worse, they were about the ones he had killed. They haunted him, both day and night. Now it was her face that haunted him. She was everywhere; he felt the soft touch of her hand, saw her flawless face in the never-ending dunes surrounding the camp, heard her soothing voice as he drifted to sleep. He knew he needed to tell her.

It was three 'o clock in the morning. Camp would not rise for another two hours, but a single light shone in one of the tents, illuminating one single piece of parchment as Seeley Booth poured out the secrets of his heart.

It had been two months, two months and six days of pretending she didn't care. Two months and six days of silent indifference. Two months and six days without his bright boyish grin breaking the cloud of monotony. As Dr. Temperance Brennan sat at her desk drinking her third cup of tea, she was suddenly struck with emptiness. She knew now that she loved Booth, more than she had ever wanted to admit. She realized it the night he left. A part of her always knew it, but she had spent so many years building a wall, avoiding both love and attachments, that she didn't recognize it when she saw it. For over three years, Booth had steadily chipped away at that wall, so subtly that she hardly noticed as she began to change and they began to grow closer. The night he left, he shattered the last wall around her heart, filling her with the realization of her love for him. He was a part of her; he had opened up the piece of her soul that had been sequestered since her family had left. They were connected; their lives had become so intertwined that where her life began and his ended was hard to distinguish, and thus without him, her life had become nothing but a half-life, a life with no tears, no laughter, no joy. After Booth left, she tried desperately to rebuild her wall. The pain was too great to bear. For the past two months and six days, she tried fruitlessly to stack the bricks one by one, to shield herself from the sharp ache that was encompassing her heart. But her resolve was wearing thin; she had neither the strength nor the will to rebuild those walls. Temperance Brennan had reached her breaking point. As a tear traced its way down her face and dropped into her now cold cup of tea, Temperance allowed her heart to take hold. She began to sob; her shoulders racked and she found it hard to breathe. She wasn't sure she had ever cried this hard. She cried because he wasn't there. She cried because she missed him. But most of all she cried because she loved him and couldn't tell him and that was the greatest travesty of all. For the first time in two months and six days, Temperance Brennan picked up the down blanket draped over her couch, the one that Booth had bought for his mid- day naps, and cradled it in her arms, inhaling his scent. She curled up on the couch, the blanket bunched in her arms as she cried herself to sleep.

She awoke, having slept only a few hours. Nevertheless, she awoke feeling refreshed and strangely whole. She felt his presence everywhere and the void that had caused her heart to ache so severely was suddenly nonexistent. The warmth within her caused a smile to creep across her face. It was at that moment that Angela walked into her office, armed with two cups of blazing hot coffee. Angela had been so worried about her friend. She hadn't shut anyone out, but had merely pretended like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed. Yet, she never smiled, she never laughed, she never let a tear grace her face. Angela knew Booth's absence was tearing Brennan apart, but she could do little to help. She knew that this was the way Brennan was dealing with her heartache, so she allowed her to continue and simply made sure she was there in case Brennan needed her. That's why Angela was surprised to see the smile upon Brennan's face when she walked through the door. It almost brought tears to her eyes, to see her friend so content when she knew the last two months had caused her nothing but pain.

"I brought coffee." She said, quietly trying to inform Brennan of her presence.

With the smile still gracing her face, Brennan turned and thanked Angela, glad to see her, for she really needed someone to talk to.

"Hey Angela…."

"Yeah."

"I know this is going to sound crazy, but today when I woke up, I felt as if Booth were here with me." She started hesitantly. Angela nodded softly, asking Brennan to continue.

"But that can't be possible because he isn't here, he's in Iraq. It is scientifically impossible for me to feel his presence when he isn't even here." Brennan said frustratingly.

"Not all things can be explained with science, Sweetie." Angela said as she grasped Brennan's hand.

"If you believe it's him, then that's all that really matters."

"I love him, you know." Brennan stated softly as tears begin to pool in her eyes.

"I know, I know….."

"And I never told him. I wanted to before he left, but I just couldn't." Brennan finished as she began to sob uncontrollably.

Angela wrapped Brennan in a fierce hug, rubbing her palm soothingly on her back. She was relieved that her friend had finally admitted how she felt; it made her job a lot easier.

"It's okay." Angela cooed. "He knows".

Temperance Brennan had just risen from the couch to refill her empty wine glass when she heard a soft knocking on her door. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was past midnight, indicating that Booth was the caller. She set her glass down on the counter and rushed to the door, glad to have the company. It had been a hard day for the both of them. The case they were currently working on had hit too close to home. Two foster kids had been found by the railroad tracks, their skulls apparently bashed in with a shovel. Expecting to see his boyish grin, Temperance was taken aback when she opened the door and found a very somber Booth on the other end. She beckoned him in and went to the fridge to grab two beers. As she handed one to him, he muttered his thanks and silently sat on the couch, not bothering to open it. She walked to the couch and sat next to him, waiting for him to speak.

"They are sending me away." He whispered.

"What? Who?" She questioned.

"The FBI. They have some kind of important mission and they need experienced shooters." He sighed.

"Where?" She breathed.

"Iraq".

"For how long?"

"I don't know."

Despite herself, Temperance felt the tears well up in her eyes. She loved this man and wasn't sure if she could live her life without him. She had tried unsuccessfully for two weeks when she had thought he was dead.

Suddenly, Booth turned, revealing his tear-stained cheeks and pleading eyes.

"I know I said I would never leave you. But this is my duty, my debt to pay….."

"You don't have to explain to me, I understand." She stated tenderly, as tears spilled over her eyelids.

He could see from her eyes that she really meant it, she understood completely, better than anyone else he knew. She knew what this meant to him because she knew him, and he couldn't have loved her anymore than at that moment.

"I just want you to know that whatever happens, we will always be together, and I will never leave you. I promise." He said as he choked back his tears. He wanted to say 'I love you', but he couldn't. He couldn't say it.

She looked back at him with such passion, her face stained with tears. And she wanted to say it, to say 'I love you', but she couldn't. Instead, she wrapped him in a warm embrace. They stayed that way for several minutes, rocking back and forth, soaking each other's clothes with their tears. And in that moment, the two realized the depth of their love for one another.

It hadn't taken very much convincing from Angela to take the day off; Temperance Brennan was emotionally and physically exhausted. She had just settled down on the couch with a cup of coffee after a warm bath and a long nap when she heard a sharp knock. She walked hesitantly to the door, unsure of who would be visiting this early in the afternoon. Perhaps it was Angela checking up on her. When she looked through the spy hole, however, she suddenly felt a lump begin to form in her throat as dread coursed through her body. A young man in uniform was standing on the other side of the door and she hardly felt courageous enough to open it. She knew what news he was bringing; if she didn't open that door, she could pretend that this wasn't happening, pretend that he was still coming back. But she knew this wasn't an option. She tried to calm herself as she opened the door.

She could see it in his eyes, the pity, the remorse; he felt sorry for her.

"Are you Dr. Temperance Brennan?"

"Yes."

"I am sorry to inform you that Special Agent Seeley Booth passed away yesterday", he stated somberly.

She knew the news was coming, but hearing the words stirred something within her and she began to shake uncontrollably as tears streamed down her face.

"Will you be alright, ma'am? Do you want me to stay? Is there anyone I can call?"

"No, no…..", she began, unable to form a coherent thought. " Just, um, can you tell me, did he feel any pain?"

"None, ma'am, none at all", the young man said reassuringly.

"They found something on him when he died, something for you", he added as he pulled a slender envelope from his jacket pocket.

"I believe it is a letter", he said.

He handed her the envelope. One single word graced the cover- Bones- in his long slinky handwriting. She thanked him heartily, and informed him that she just wanted to be alone. As she closed the door, she ripped the envelope open furiously, ravenous to read his words, hoping they would bring her reassurance, as Booth always seemed to do when she most needed it.

My very dear Temperance,

The indications are very strong that we will move in a few days, perhaps tomorrow. In case I will not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I am no more.

I have no misgivings about or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged and my courage does not halt or falter. How great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and sufferings of the revolution. And I am willing, perfectly willing, to lay down all my joys in this life and to pay that debt.

Oh Temperance, my love for you is deathless. It seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence can break; and yet my love of country comes over me like a strong wind that bears me irresistibly with all those chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me. But something whispers to me, perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Parker, that I will return to my loved ones unharmed.

If I do not my dear Temperance, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me, it will whisper your name. Oh Bones, if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I will be always near you, in the gladdest days and the darkest nights. Always, always. And if there be a soft breeze upon you cheek, it will be my breath as the cool air fans your temple, it will be my spirit passing by.

Temperance, do not mourn me dead, think I am gone and wait for me, for we will meet again. Wait for me, Bones.

I love you.

Seeley

Despite her lack of a belief system, as she read the letter, she was instantly struck with a warmth that she knew could only be Booth. For the first time in her life, Temperance Brennan disregarded science and allowed her heart and newfound faith to take control. Booth was there with her, just like he said he would be.

It was two weeks, two weeks and six days later. The entire squint squad was there just like before, only this time it was real. Booth wasn't waiting in uniform to catch the bad guy. The body inside that coffin was not a dummy, And Temperance Brennan was crying. He was really dead and this was really his funeral. And Temperance Brennan had spent the last two weeks and six days making sure it was better than the last one. She could just imagine his smug smile as he realized how many people cared about him, and how many ex-girlfriends had shown up to shed a tear at his death. But it was the girl that mattered the most that shed the most tears. She listened to the many speakers all doting on how great Booth was, how great a man he was, and she was once again struck with emptiness. He was gone, never to come back, and she had not appreciated him or the way he had lived his life, not enough anyways. Suddenly, his warmth began to fill her body. He was still there, still comforting her, and he knew how she felt about him. She was struck with a realization. Turning to Angela, she whispered.

"He kept his promise."

"What?" Angela whispered back shakily through her tears.

"He said he would never leave me, that we would always be together. And we are."

Angela looked at her friend, shocked to see the comfort and pure faith in her face. She smiled silently at Brennan's sudden transformation.

"He kept his promise." Temperance murmured as a soft wind caressed her face.

I am sure that you guys are probably mad at this point, but the story wouldn't have made sense unless he died. Plus, Sullivan Ballou died after writing this letter as well. If you liked it, please review! I promise if you review that I will write some fluff!