Well, you see when I wrote August 2008 as the date for my sequel...it was a typo...yeah a typo... I meant August 2009. I thought I would be ahead of schedule and upload it in July just to be nice ;D Moving on...this is the sequel to "That Pesky thing Called Love". It takes place a couple of weeks after Booth's fake death in season three. There are certain ideas that pop up from season 4 but nothing containing spoilers. I don't think you have to read the first story, but there might be moments of confusion if you don't. That being said, it has been so long since the original that for those of you have read my first fanfic might have to go back and dust off the cobwebs so to speak. Well, I hope you enjoy the sequel "That Vexing Thing Called Dating".

A not so PS...Thank you to MoonlightGardenias who was my beta for this chapter. She is beyond fabulous and is a grammar guru...she should be worshipped...but not in a creepy way :D

Chapter One: To Mend a Scientist's Heart

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Booth was definitely having one of those Déjà Vu moments everyone talks about. He could have sworn that two months ago, he was sitting on this same uncomfortable sofa, in this same beige coloured waiting room with the same pissed off Forensic Anthropologist sitting next to him. He turned to his left and gazed upon her ram-rod posture and pinched expression. Yep, this was definitely a Déjà Vu moment; the only difference being the reason why Bones was infuriated with him. And the reason was there, giant, gargantuan, and in the corner eating peanuts.

The dull, yet all too familiar ache within his chest was just a gentle reminder of what had happened over the last two weeks. Brennan was taking punishment to a new level by reverting back to the woman he had met almost three and a half years prior. They functioned well enough as professionals, but it was the little things that he was finding the most difficult to adjust to. He was there to pick her up and drive her home as usual, but there were no more meaningful looks or longing stares from her. Their conversations were either about work or something non-committal like the weather. Booth was going to end up bald by all the hair pulling conversations about weather; cumulonimbus clouds are not that interesting.

All these to the untrained eye could be seen under the 'nothing has changed category', but the fact that smacked him in the face daily, every hour, every minute and even every second was that he was not allowed to touch her. The second day of his return had casually placed his hand on her back and she froze and warned him not to take such liberties again with her body. He made the mistake of leaning in to kiss her that night, but the only thing his lips met was her door. The lack of physical contact with Bones was slowly deteriorating the hope that tried to linger. Booth was fairly certain that he was losing his mind because have sworn the first night back in his apartment he could smell her perfume on his pillow case and on one of his shirts, but that was probably just the result of him wishing she was there with him, wrapped in his arms.

Apologizing had been all for naught, and that was why they ended up here outside the kid's office sitting on the same uncomfortable couch, in this beige coloured waiting room, with his very pissed off partner sitting next to him. He hoped this would work because the alternative meant that he would never see her eyes sparkle with delight during their first date, be able to feel her heart beat after they made love, hear the clanking of their coffee cups first thing in the morning, fight over bathroom counter space, or watch her hair turn grey. His gaze wandered yet again to the woman sitting next to him; to the woman he loved, and he wondered how long it would take to get her back.

Dr. Temperance Brennan was many things: doctorate holder, black belt and New York bestselling author, but what she wasn't was what Booth called a "happy camper". She had no idea what that meant, but Booth kept referring to it. Two weeks of self preservation had led her to be in this waiting room for the first time since that day. Despite Angela's repetitive "biggest mistake of your life" speech, she knew that she had made the best decision and besides, logically speaking, Brennan's life was not over yet, so there were many more mistakes to be made.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw that he was staring at her. He was always doing that, and the worst part was that he always had the same mangled mixture of expressions on his face: love, lust, passion, concern and sorrow. But, out of all of the expressions it was the glint that would flash across his introspective brown eyes that made her breath hitch; a glint of pointed pain that hit her like a blade. She had smashed something precious to him and he was desperately trying to glue the pieces back together.

She started to slump down slightly on the uncomfortable sofa, changing her once ram rod posture. Rationally speaking her reaction had been fine, within the context of what had happened, but if she didn't know any better she could have sworn that her 'gut' was telling her otherwise. Did she really want to win this battle? No matter who won she would end up hurt, the facts spoke for themselves. Fact one: Booth's presence is a constant painful and pleasant distraction. Fact two: Booth's absence had pushed her to the brink, yet she wanted to distance herself from him. Fact three: she yearned to hear his voice and to feel his touch, but was far too obstinate to give in. Either way she looked at it, she was going to get hurt again. The longer they were together as a couple, the harder it was for her to go back to her past self from three years prior: alone, composed and not craving for his touch. That way she would not have to feel the unbearable and overwhelming pain from that day. She glanced again, and he was still looking at her. He wasn't going to make this easy.

"Would you please stop staring at me, Booth?" She finally turned to meet his gaze for the first time since arriving. She was met with that all too familiar glint in his eye, but then a smirk appeared.

"I'm not hurting anyone Bones, I am just looking."

"Just look at something else."

"No, I like this view much better."

"Why don't you just stare at the wall?"

"Oh come on, Bones, the wall doesn't have your stunning smile." His smirk was turning into a full blown grin.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"It's not like I was being subtle, Bones."

"Well, while you're at it, please stop flirting with me as well."

"Oh Bones, you are only experiencing level one of Booth Flirtationness."

"That's not even a real word, Booth."

"Oh it is, Bones, it is." He smiled fully now and added a wink. Oh god if this is only level one, then I am not going to last much longer.

"Stop it, Booth."

"Nah, where's the fun in that?"

"Nothing about this is fun," She chided. He sighed.

"Come on, Bones, you know you cannot keep this up forever."

His vision was once again replaced with her profile, her back went straight again, and he was also graced with a defiant snort.

"You know that the weather patterns for this time of year are...."

"Enough with the weather, Bones!" She stopped and looked at her hands, "You have to stop changing the subject just to avoid a conversation we should of had weeks ago." He stared at her profile hoping for some hint of a conversational opening.

"Come on, Bones, eventually you are going to forgive me."

"Flat chance."

"HA! You see you said 'flat chance'. It's fat chance! See we are getting back into our groove, Bones. You know where you can't get pop culture references and I correct you."

"We don't have a groove."

"Oh yes we do, and if you recall it is that very same groove that had you rethinking your stance of pigs flying." She gulped. Not that. Please anything but that. Flashes of that day streaked across her mind: the taste of him, the feel of him, and connection with him.

"I barely even remember." He went agape.

"Barely even...oh nice, Bones, you remember just fine. The blush on your cheeks tells me otherwise." As if to prove him right her face went redder.

"You see, your body remembers it's just your mind that is getting in the way. Brain versus heart, Bones. You put your heart into overdrive for your father, why can't you do that now?"

"Can we please talk about something else?"

"No. If we did actually talk about it, then you would realize that it wasn't my fault."

"Wasn't your fault?" Her head whipped around to look at him.

"It's not like I wanted to get shot!" A pained expression flashed across her sapphire blue eyes, but was quickly marred with anger once again.

"No, that wasn't your fault, Booth." It was hers and she dealt with that every day. If they hadn't been so close than he wouldn't have been shot, but that did not excuse everything.

"The events after the shooting were definitely your fault, Booth."

"How many times do I have to apologize before it becomes redundant?"

"By definition, the second time you said it." Booth ran his hand down his face in frustration.

"You cannot keep this up, Bones, look at yourself...if your back was any straighter it would snap." Her back, if it was possible, went even straighter. She turned back to stare at the not so riveting beige wall.

Booth sighed. He was within arm's reach of the woman he loved, yet he felt as if he was miles away. He was losing her to her former self, and it was becoming unbearable to watch. Ok, so let's skip to level three. He leaned over and placed his index figure under her defiant chin and turned her face towards his.

"Temperance, I am not above begging." He said as he gave her his best charm smile he could muster. "Please, Bones."

She felt it, that giddy like feeling stirring within her, that flutter, that rush which had been denied for so long. He made it so much more difficult than it needed to be. With all the strength she could muster, she lifted her chin from his finger perch and gazed at her hands.

"Booth, you can't always get what you want."

"I know that Bones, but maybe you can have what you always wanted."

"What I want is to be left alone."

"Well, that will never happen, Bones."

"Well, you could always fake your death again," and there it was, the elephant that had been with them every single second since he faked his own death had finally been identified.

"Bones, I told you I had to do it. It was the only chance of catching that guy."

"That part I understand, Booth. It is the fact that I wasn't told."

"I wrote a list, Bones. You were meant to know."

"Well then how was it, Booth that I didn't know until I saw you alive and well at your own funeral!?"

"I don't know why you weren't told!" He threw his hands up in the air and stood up, "this is getting ridiculous, Bones."

"Ridiculous!" She was suddenly on her feet and facing him. "You," she leaned down and poked him in the chest, "you could have told me, but you didn't!" Booth grabbed her hand, the first physical contact in two weeks. Her sudden intake of breath matched his own. They were now standing inches from one another. The beige walls were slowly getting torched by flashes of passion ricocheting off of them.

"I couldn't tell you."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

"I was ordered not to have any contact with anyone."

"Ordered? How many times have you and I broken the rules Booth, and this one time you didn't?"

"I knew I couldn't tell you and that is why I had a list."

"So you keep saying, but I have yet to see this list."

"There was one, and you were on it. Not just on it but at the top, very top. First, numero uno."

"Then why wasn't I told!"

"I don't know!" They were nose to nose, two individuals trying to occupy the same space, trying to find the answer to a puzzle that was missing an important piece.

"Do you want me to find out why you weren't told?

"Yes, that is what I want."

"And then will you forgive me?"

"I want you to find out, only for factual evidence. It will have nothing to do with forgiveness."

"Great. Fine. I will just ask Sweets. He is bound to know and then this will all be cleared up, and I can finally take you on our first official date."

"I am not dating you, Booth."

"No, of course you won't because that would make logical sense and clearly I am dealing with Bizzaro Temperance, I am just like Superman."

"I don't know what that means, but I know that I am far closer to being logical than you are."

"Oh great, I love it when you insult my intelligence. Warm and fuzzy Bones, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy."

"Booth, I didn't mean..."

"That's okay Bones, I forgive you. See how easy it is...to forgive someone."

"Don't trivialize this, Booth; it is hardly the same thing!"

"Trivialize? Oh, I am not the one being trivial, Bones. You are the one that is willing to throw away what we have because...well that is a really good question now, isn't it? What is your reason for throwing what we have away?"

He was close, too close.

"What does it matter, Booth?"

"It matters to me; just tell me how to fix this."

"Well getting Sweets involved at this point in time was not the best way." Sweets would only dig deeper.

"Geesh Bones, you think I want to involve the kid in this? He probably still blows bubbles in his morning milk! So no, he wasn't my first choice, but clearly I am desperate; I will do anything to make this better."

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything and everything."

"Then promise me you we can go back to the way things were before."

"Ok, anything except that."

"So, you aren't willing to do anything and everything then?"

His left eye twitched slightly.

"I am willing to do anything within reason, which you should like, to make things better between us."

"Then why involve Sweets if you want to make things better? Though I recognize that his expertise is valuable in certain situations, it has no bearing on us."

"WHY? Are you kidding me? You clubbed me in the face Bones, so I think the welt and the bruise on my face I have been wearing for the last week or so warrants at least a real conversation instead of the one sided conversation I have been having with your voice mail, oh and not to mention that you won't let me touch you. "

"Oh, and you don't think you deserved that?"

"I was shot! I took a bullet for you. Right here, Bones," he pointed his finger to the spot where the bullet pierced his flesh.

"Once, Booth, and you can't keep using that as an excuse!"

"For any other woman that would have been enough, but no not world renowned Dr. Temperance Brennan, no, no, you won't be happy until I am maimed, humiliated or worse."

"Worse...you mean dead." And they were back to the not so immovable elephant in the room. He just stared at her. This was a mess, his mess, her mess, just one big pile of mess.

"Bones, I..."

"Don't bother Booth, it's done. All you need to do is accept it."

"Never." He moved towards her, but she evaded his grasp.

"I am leaving, this was mistake." She turned towards the path of least resistance, the exit.

"Don't do this, Temperance. Not after everything we have been through. Just try and be fair..." She stopped which made him pause. The beige wall, that were once scorched by their passion were now frosting over. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, momentarily surrendering. She slowly turned around and strode towards him until they were face to face once again. Then she leaned towards his ear, the warmth of her breath causing his hairs on that side of his neck to be momentarily soothed.

"Fair. You want to talk about fair, Booth?" Her voice was even, unemotional and eerily telling. "Was it fair that the very last image I thought I had of you could have your blood stained body being rolled down the hospital corridor? Was it fair that you were safe and healthy for two weeks while I had to live under the illusion that you were dead? Life is not fair Booth, and I know that better than anyone." She leaned out once again and their gazes locked. Pain reflected pain.

Booth lifted his hand to her face. She slapped it away. He tried again with the other and she repeated the process.

"Don't touch me." It wasn't a warning this time; it was a plea, one he was not going to obey. He moved again gliding his hand along her neck and intertwined his fingers with her dark locks. She pushed her hands against his chest, not really trying to push him away, but not pulling him close either. He gently lifted her chin with his free hand and touched his forehead with hers. Her walls were not as good as they once were.

"Temperance, I am so sorry for everything. I want nothing more to make things right. I am truly sorry." She pulled back and looked at those beautifully sincere brown eyes before moving her right hand over his heart feeling the gentle thumping against her palm. So strong, so alive, yet powerless when it came to logic, science and reasoning; to go back, to truly go back, meant that progress had to be reverted. A coldness needed to be fed and nurtured once again for her to truly mend her walls.

"Is there anything else, Booth?"

"That depends Bones, what are you looking for?"

"Something to make all of this go away." He only had one level left.

"I love you, Temperance." They held each other's gaze until she gently pushed herself from his embrace and gently laughed a haunting chuckle.

"Do you remember when we were in the Diner and you said that we could start defining what you called our love?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well I think that it is fair to say that your 'love', or whatever it is, between us is just a chemical reaction that creates a delusional and irrational state where everything is expected to be excused under the pretence of love."

"For crying out loud Bones, I did not say 'I love you' to make you forgive me! I said it because it is the truth; it is not going to change no matter what happens."

"Really, Booth? You'll do anything to get me to forgive you. So love, whatever it really is, is not good enough when it becomes a weapon, or worse, a burden."

"My love is like a weapon and a burden to you?"

"Yes, that is what I said." It was his turn to chuckle.

"That's it. That is all you've got. Well then, I have to agree with you Bones because right now I am feeling the twist of your blade quite nicely. "

"You see, there is only one logical thing to do, Booth."

"Yes Bones, FORGIVE ME!"

"No, end this before it even starts."

"Ok, as soon as you build a time machine and travel about three and a half years ago, then we can end it before it even began."

"Time travel is scientifically impossible Booth, and I don't mean our partnership. Our record stands for itself and it would be illogical to end our very successful partnership. I mean the romantic relationship that we were foolish enough to think of entering three weeks ago."

"Oh I see...no."

"What do you mean no? You don't have a choice, Booth."

"Since I am the other person in this relationship, I say no."

"Yes.

"No."

"I am not going anywhere, so deal with it. We are going to date, make love, and live our lives together. The sooner you accept this, the better."

"I don't understand why you are making this so difficult?"

"Well Bones, I have sworn to protect you and now I am protecting you from making the biggest mistake of your life."

"I don't see it that way, Booth. I am saving myself from making the biggest mistake of my life." Booth smiled, he had had enough. He strode towards her cupped her face and smashed his lips against hers. It wasn't sweet; it wasn't tender, or heartfelt. It was desperate, primal and exposed them to the rawness that was their love. It quickly turned into a three year pent up, passion filled, 'I would take you right on this uncomfortable couch, in this beige office' type of kiss.

They were feeding, two weeks' worth. They were allowing the primal human need for physical contact to feast on the splendours. She grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket and hung on for dear life, knowing all the while that she was so desperately wrong. He ran his hands through her hair as an anchor, knowing all the while that she could slip away from him once again. Just as he felt her start to gain her composure, he used up every last ounce of will power and pulled away from her ravaged lips. He took his hands and cupped her face forcing her to look at him.

"We are not a mistake, Temperance. We will get through this." He whispered breathlessly.

"I will not let you in again, Booth." She whispered through ragged breaths. He took his hand and placed it over her heart feeling the strong, rapid beat underneath his palm.

"You don't have to Bones, because I already have the key."

In an instant her face hardened, and she pushed him back. He was right, she couldn't do it. She was connected to him, so deeply that any shift caused unpredictable ripples through one another. It wasn't going to take three years for Booth to knock down her walls; it only took seconds after she saw him at the funeral. Her walls were dismantled and were blown away. She knew it. He knew it. What was revealed was almost too overwhelming; luckily, she would get her reprieve.

The door to their usual counseling room opened revealing a very nervous looking Sweets. As he ushered them in she felt Booth's hand on the small of her back, and she was struck by something so completely common and natural it took her breath away. Though it wasn't scientifically possible, she believed she was suffering from a broken heart, just like Angela had said that night in Booth's apartment. But Angela had been wrong about one thing. Booth could not mend this chasm...it was up to her. It was her heart and she would fix it, she just did not know how.

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So there was a little back tracking from my last story, but he faked his death and I have always thought that would have a greater impact on her than they portrayed on the show. Well as always reviews, the good, bad and the crippling, are always welcome. Cheers :D