A/N: I feel like this is pretty underdeveloped, but I wanted to get it out there before the premiere. Hopefully I'll be able to write more after the new season! Let me know what you think or what you would like me to expand upon.
Disclaimer: Though this fact greatly saddens me, I still do not own Bones.
She wishes she could say that they finally got it together after their coffee cart meeting; that there was a tearful reunion in which she flew into his arms and he kissed her madly. She wishes they could have made up and finally become something more than partners. They could have grown old together and solved crime until Booth's hands shook when he held his gun and she needed a microscope just to see the skeletons. She wishes she could say they finally made is work after five years of running from each other. But that's just not them.
There were moments. When she saw him waiting for her at the cart, (because he always seems to be the one waiting for her) she so badly wanted to give in. She wanted them to be the cliché; she had to consciously slow her walk so she wouldn't actually fly into his arms and kiss him madly. So she walked and he bit his lip to hide his full-blown grin and she did hug him, but it was very platonic –perhaps the first true "guy hug" they'd ever shared. And there was a moment. There was a moment when she wasn't sure if he indented to let her go. If she's honest with herself, there was a moment when she wasn't sure if she would ever let go of him.
The moments grew more persistent. They became more frequent. The always-there tension between them was nearly overwhelming, but they are both masters at compartmentalization, despite his assertions that she shouldn't hide her feelings and her insistence that he keep his emotions in check. To combat this mutual desire, he doesn't ask her over to his place for paperwork anymore; she forces her heart not to squeeze painfully when he mentions a date he has. He doesn't show up at her apartment with coffee at six in the morning, but she thinks he probably could; after all, her sex life is non-existent at this point, so there's no danger of him walking in on her. She doesn't ask him to dance if the occasion arises, and when they go out of town for cases, she never visits his hotel room.
They crossed the line a year ago, and they've both redrawn it. It's thicker than it was before. They're both trying to move on from what never came to be. The partners solve cases and sometimes eat at the diner and every so often, he touches her. He reaches out, but often he quickly pulls back. She thinks he sometimes forgets that with this new line, he doesn't get to touch her. With this new line, they don't really get to do anything.
She wishes she could say they finally got it together; five years should have been enough time for them to fumble their way to each other. But it wasn't. There was no romantic realization that their year apart was intolerable. Neither of them would admit to the gnawing feeling of emptiness that resided in them during the separation. Upon seeing him, she resisted the urge to run into his arms and he forced himself to stop holding her. She wishes she could have trusted herself to change for him –it's only now she realizes they could have worked. She would have changed for him. It's not her, it's not right, but there it is all the same. She regrets her fear, her running, her past. Even more, she regrets allowing him to break her. She wishes they could have gotten it together, but she's beginning to believe "together" won't ever be a word she can associate with herself and Booth.
She can't do anything now but miss him. It's getting tiresome, because the year apart was full of her missing him. He kept sending her updates and emails that made her heart hurt. She literally felt a constricting in her chest as she thought of him. Never before had she believed in broken hearts, but she thinks now that he may have broken hers. The worst part is that it didn't have to happen like this. So she made a point not to initiate contact; she told herself she could certainly live without him for a year. Couldn't she? The year apart resulted in an awkward, stilted reunion. Everything was supposed to be back to normal after their year, but everything is exactly the opposite of normal. She can't really even call them friends anymore. They're simply a missed moment, unsure of how to make anything better. She still has a broken heart; she still misses him, even as he hovers over her, waiting for an I.D. on their latest victim. He may as well still be half a world away; at least then she'd have an excuse for her longing. They still haven't gotten it together, and now, she's convinced they never will.