Yup, I joined the club and wrote a post-finale fic. This is, very originally (not!), taking place when Booth is back in DC.

Enjoy!


He sat on the stone steps near the mall, staring out over the pool.

She wasn't here yet. She wouldn't be for –he checked his watch for the umpteenth time – at least one and a half hour.

He'd been sitting here an hour already.

Nervous.

He'd quickly dropped by Parker's school, but hadn't had Parker taken out of the class. Instead, he had waved at his son through the class, watching him work diligently on some assignment.

Parker had not changed much at all.

Had he? Booth was not sure. In Afghanistan, a mirror was not exactly easy to come by, nor was a quiet time to contemplate life; the only people he'd seen were those he lived with daily.

And Bones.

He had taken a picture of them with him, where they were standing next to one another, smiling at something outside of the frame. He didn't remember when it was taken, but Angela had given it to him, claiming – no, knowing– he would need it.

Without her knowledge, he'd taken a photo of the team too, and a picture Angela had taken at the Christmas dinner at Bones' house.

Almost everybody he loved had been in the picture – how could he not take it?

Sometimes, he had lain in his bed, tracing their faces with his finger. Tracing her face more than anyone else's. Maybe it was pathetic, not fit for a hero -a painful flashback to their parting- but he did not care.

Anything to make him feel closer to them. To her.

He had written letters – to Hodgins, Angela, even Sweets – and he had received them, as well, wrinkled and abused, but whole.

And with Bones, too, letters that started strangely impersonal, only talking of their new work – but, as the year began to pass, letters about other things, missing DC, missing each other. Doubts and dreams and worries – he knew hers, and she knew his, too.

And now he was back. Any time now she could appear right in front of him – like a ghost, a woman he had not seen for a year. She had not sent any photos with her letters and neither had he, but even without the other photos, her face would be forever etched into his very core.

How would she react? Would they be okay again? A year was a long time…

People came and went at the coffee card, but he did not see her. He sat back down on the stairs, trying to calm himself in vain.

Was it dramatic to say that their very partnership depended on the moment where they would meet again?

It felt like it.

Despite their letters, he could not know how she had changed – and if she had, for the positive or the negative. Would she be changed? Would she be –

"Booth."

A voice, behind him, startling him. A voice startlingly familiar, raspy, but undoubtedly familiar.

He turned around. And saw her.

Her hair had been cut, her clothes were slightly disheveled and he could see the tiredness in her eyes.

But she was there.

His Bones.

Grinning widely, he closed the few paces between them before engulfing her in a hug.

He tried not to feel how thin she'd gotten, instead concentrating on the sheer pleasure of having her in his arms again, where –he thought– she rightfully belonged.

In his arms, right near his heart.

She laughed –or cried, he could not tell– and hugged him back.

How long they stood there, he did not know. It felt like minutes, but in reality it was probably only a few seconds before he pulled back and took in her new appearance.

"Like the new haircut," he told her.

Now that the initial exhilaration was over, his doubts were coming back and he wondered if he was saying the right thing, but she smiled at him and he forgot. That smile, that – he stared at her lips, feeling passion again for the first time in a year.

How he wanted to kiss those lips, feel them again, telling her how he felt…

She looked at him with wonder and a bit of apprehension, had noticed him looking – had she thought his feelings would be gone in the span of a year?

He was quite sure they were permanently lodged in his heart.

"Come on, Bones," he broke the strange silence, grabbing her hand in a moment of spontaneity. Looking at their joined hands, he had a flashback to a year ago, a different place, different circumstances, but with their hands joined.

Because wherever they were, they would always be together.


A lot of their relationship depends on that first meeting by the reflecting pool at the mall (wherever that may be) - I am sure of it. I am not particularly excited for season 6, but that moment! Cannot wait.