This is a sequel to chapter 13.

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He needed to keep some of his clothes at her apartment if he was going to be staying with her. He'd always kept a bag in the guest bedroom with a toiletry bag and a set of casual clothes, but now that they were in a relationship and he was sleeping over in her apartment, he needed to keep clothes there so he wouldn't have to run back to his apartment before he went to work.

The bag he carried into the apartment contained some jeans, t-shirts, underwear, a few dress shirts, socks, a couple of pair of shoes, two pairs of sweats and two suits.

"Booth, you can place your clothes in the guest bedroom." Brennan wanted to make sure he had enough room for his clothes. "The closet is mostly empty and the dresser is too . . . you can bring some of your sports clothes and equipment and keep them there too if you need to."

Carrying the bag into the room, Booth hung his two suits in the closet and turned to face the dresser. Opening the top drawer, he placed his underwear, sock and t-shirts in neat piles inside. Next he opened the middle drawer and much to his surprise, he found two FBI t-shirts, three concert t-shirts and what looked like his old khaki jacket. Surprised, he checked each of the concert t-shirts and found them to be the ones he'd found missing a few years ago from his dresser in his apartment.

Not sure how and why they were now in Brennan's apartment, Booth pulled the t-shirts out of the drawer, sat on the bed and stared at them in his hand.

"I forgot I had those." Brennan stood in the doorway and nervously bit her lower lip. "I can explain."

Curious, Booth looked up and frowned. "I discovered these were missing after I was allowed to go back to my apartment . . . you know . . . when the Director kept me hidden for two weeks to catch that terrorist . . . at my funeral . . ."

"I remember, Booth." Embarrassed, Brennan stayed where she was. She wasn't sure if Booth was angry and this conversation was about to get complicated. "I . . . when I was told you had died, I took that very hard . . ."

"Bones . . ."

"No Booth . . . just let me explain." Stepping into the room, Brennan walked over to the chair next to the closet and sat down. "I was told that you had died and at first I refused to believe it. No one would let me see your body and when I tried to find you in the hospital, I was escorted out of the building . . . I was called hysterical . . . I wasn't of course, but that was the excuse they used to keep me from looking for you."

She remembered how determined she was and with hindsight being 20/20 she knew that the FBI had been desperate to keep their undercover operation on track. "That night I went to your apartment . . . I used my spare key, the one you gave me to use in an emergency . . . it seemed like an emergency to me . . . I didn't believe the FBI . . . I thought you were alive and I wanted to see you . . . you weren't there." She felt a tear slide down her cheek and did nothing to stop it.

Clearly she was upset and Booth wanted to stop the conversation. "Bones . . . you don't have to explain . . ."

"But I do." Brennan was determined to make him see what she went through, that she hadn't been unfeeling or cold about the situation. "I went into your bedroom and I took those t-shirts and the jacket and one comic book . . . I wanted you to come to my apartment and accuse me of theft and demand your things back . . . you didn't come and I knew you were dead." Tears still fell and Brennan wasn't sure why. This was old history. "You didn't come and I mourned for you in my way . . . I thought you had left me even though you had promised me that you never would and I felt betrayed . . ."

"Bones!" Booth couldn't take it anymore. He placed the t-shirts down on the mattress, stood up and walked over to where she was sitting. Taking her hands in his, he pulled her to her feet and placed his arms around her. "Bones . . . I should have called you. I know that now. I should never have let a bureaucracy do my job. I was out of it for a few days, but when I woke up at that cabin, well I should have called you and checked up on you . . . I'm so sorry . . . I'm so sorry."

The pain was old and would probably never leave her, but she knew it was unfair to blame Booth for something that Sweets had done. The psychologist had experimented on her and he had tried to force her to admit to feelings about her partner. Those feelings were hers and not to be shared with anyone at the time. She had blamed Booth for not calling her, but now she knew he was part of the experiment and a victim as well. "Don't apologize for something you didn't have any control over . . . I know you Booth. You were ordered to keep undercover and silent and you did it . . . you were unable to do anything different, I know that now."

Still he regretted that he'd let the FBI treat her that badly. "I made you a promise afterward and I meant it. The next time I die, I'll call you and let you know."

The absurdity of his statement made her laugh. "Booth . . . that's ridiculous . . . but thank you."

Glad to see the tears stop and a smile on her face, Booth brushed her hair back from her cheek and he kissed her. "If I can call you I will . . . how about that?"

Brennan shook her head and smiled. "I won't hold you to that promise . . . but from now on, if you have to pretend to be dead, I must insist that I be told about it."

"Of course." Booth had already made damn sure she was never treated like that again. "I made Pops promise to call you if I'm ever squirreled away like that again . . . oh . . . and Rebecca said she'd tell you too. She was pretty upset when she found out you weren't told. She blamed me too by the way."

Brennan stepped away from Booth and walked over to the bed. After she picked up the t-shirts she hugged them and turned to face Booth. "I wore each of these at least once while I thought you were dead . . . it helped me to accept that you were gone. They gave me comfort."

She looked so sad standing there holding his old shirts and he wanted to lighten the mood. "You know when I found out those were missing, I accused my landlord of stealing them. He threatened to evict me from my apartment, but I had a lease . . . when my lease was up he thought about making me move, but it's hard to find someone to lease an apartment above a liquor store and he knew I knew it . . . he did raise my rent fifty bucks a month that son-of-a-bitch."

"I'm sorry." Now that she realized that her theft had cost him real money, Brennan was embarrassed again. "I should have given them back to you when I found out you were alive, but then I would have had to admit that I had stolen them."

Not really concerned, Booth shook his head, "Don't worry about it. It's done." Booth moved over to where she was standing and removed the t-shirts from here hand. "So . . . do you like my shirts?"

"Yes, I do." Brennan took the shirts from his hand. "I always have."

Booth smiled and walked over to the dresser. "So I can count on you taking my shirts when you want one?"

Moving over to the dresser, Brennan placed the t-shirts back in the drawer. "That won't be necessary, at least for now. As you can see I already own 5 of your t-shirts and one jacket . . . I'm not sure where the comic book is . . . Oh, it's in my bookcase . . . if I ever wear these out then be prepared to lose more."

Booth laughed. "Good to know."

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