Follow The Yellow Brick Road by Lexxicon

Summary: Case fic.

Spoilers: General Season One.

Notes: It helps to have seen The Wizard of Oz.

1. Not In Kansas Anymore

Special Agent Seeley Booth was in a good mood today. He had just wrapped a big case with the Bureau, and now he was on his way to bug his favorite forensic anthropologist for her final report on the remains that were found.

As he approached her office, he could hear Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 playing on her stereo. He stepped through the door and found her standing on a chair, stretching to reach something on the top shelf of the bookcase. She couldn’t quite get at what she was reaching for, so she stepped up onto a higher shelf of the bookcase.

She didn’t notice him as he stepped towards her, and he didn’t make his presence known, not wanting to startle her. At least, that’s the excuse he gave himself. Truth be told, he was enjoying the view as he stood right behind her.

In a desperate effort to retrieve the object, Tempe superextended her arm and leaped up on her toes. She finally got her fingers around it, but she lost her balance and fell back from the shelf, the large book flying from her hand and landing across the room.

The only sound that escaped Booth was a soft “Oof!” as Tempe’s full body weight hit him in the chest. His arms went protectively around her middle, and he stumbled backwards, crashing into the solid table a few feet away.

His hands remained around her waist, even after she looked like she could stand on her own. She took a few seconds to catch her breath, then put her hands on his and muttered a breathless, “Thank you.” He let his hands drop from her body, and brought them around to knead the part of his back that had made contact with the desk.

She turned to look at him, then walked over to where the book had landed. Her apparent lack of concern for him bothered Booth. She picked up the book and flipped through it distractedly. He moved to where she was searching through the large tome and said irritably, “Bones, what if I hadn’t been there to catch you?”

“I’d probably have a bruised ass,” she mumbled vaguely.

“Yeah, or a broken neck! What on earth possessed you to climb up on the bookshelf like that?”

Perhaps noticing his tone for the first time, she looked up at him and met his eyes. She made a brief visual survey of his body, and noticed his hands gingerly rubbing his back. She indicated the spot and asked, “Are you okay?”

His anger disappeared as quickly as it had emerged. He rolled his eyes, more at himself for temporarily forgetting whom he was dealing with. “Yes, I’m fine. Probably just a bruise. Are you okay?”

“You caught me. Of course I’m okay,” she said, as though it was the most obvious response.

He mouthed a silent “Okay,” and shifted his attention to the cause of their collision: the large book that lay open on Brennan’s desk. It was an encyclopedia on folklore, and it was open to the section on witches.

“A little light reading?” he joked.

Missing his sarcasm, she answered, “No. Someone sent me a package. It’s over here,” she added, walking away from the desk and moving over to a table with an open cardboard box on it, and a large picnic basket next to that. She picked up the note lying next to the basket and handed it to the FBI agent. On it was typed the message:

DING-DONG, THE WITCH IS DEAD

With furrowed brow, he lifted the flap and peered curiously into the basket. A cleaned set of bones, detached just below the kneecap, lay perfectly preserved on a pillow of foam. The attention-grabber, however, was the pair of shimmering red shoes fitted absurdly on the feet.

Tempe had launched into an explanation of her choice of reading materials. “I don’t know much about the historical significance of the feet as they relate to witches. And I’m totally lost on the shoes. So I thought that I might be able to find infor—“

“Dorothy Gale,” Booth interrupted.

“What?”

“Bones,” he said, looking directly at her with forced solemnity, “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, sure that he was messing with her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“’Ding-dong, the witch is dead?’ Ruby slippers?” At her continued blank look, he said in exasperation, “The Wizard of Oz, Bones! Good God, please tell me you’ve seen The Wizard of Oz!”

“Apparently not,” she said, not knowing why this bothered him more so than most pop culture references she didn’t get.

Booth took a deep cleansing breath and said, “Okay, we’ll have to get you up to speed. First off, this book,” he indicated the hefty volume that had already caused so much trouble, “is not gonna help you at all.” He slammed it shut demonstratively.

“Okay, then you can explain it to me while I study the bones,” she said decisively.

“That, I can do.” He followed her back to the wicker basket. She snapped on a pair of gloves and indicated that Booth open the lid for her. He did so, and she reached down and delicately lifted out the bones one set at a time, careful to preserve the position of the shoes on the feet.

She lay them out on the tabletop and pulled the lamp towards them. She took about a dozen or so photographs, then carefully pulled the shoes off the feet. Inside one of them was another typed note. She gently opened it up and read:

FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD

“’Yellow brick road?’”

“It’s another reference to the movie, Bones. I think the sender is trying to tell you to follow the clues.”

“Obviously,” she muttered, looking back down to study the shoes more closely. Booth, meanwhile, bent down to get a better look at the notes. He reached for the second one and Tempe slapped his hand away. “Gloves,” she said sternly.

“Bones, check out the notes. Notice anything about the letters?” he asked as he grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the nearby box.

She shifted her attention from the foot she was studying to the two pieces of paper. She squinted at the small print, then straightened and pulled the magnifying lens and the light over to the notes.

After a couple seconds of looking at them, she said, “Some of the letters are green. Write these down on the white board as I call them out to you,” she instructed.

He picked up the nearest dry erase marker and took down the letters:

EITCD LEYRA

She shook her head at the nonsense characters written up on the board. Booth’s expression was more thoughtful, though. He wrote something below the letters she had called out to him.

E-ERALD CITY

“I don’t know what that means,” she said as he stepped back.

“It’s the place Dorothy is headed in the movie. Only, the M is missing in this anagram,” he said.

“M,” she said to herself. “Hmm….” She looked back down at the bones and bent over to study the bones of the feet.

“Whatcha thinkin’?” he asked.

“Metatarsals,” was her only reply as she continued scanning the bones. She got to one particular bone and squinted and moved her face so close that Booth thought she’d actually touch the remains with her button of a nose. She held out her hand, palm up, and said, “Camera.”

He handed it to her without hesitation and she snapped some close-up pictures of the metatarsal bone she had stopped on. Then she put it down and picked up a set of forceps.

“This metatarsal,” she said as she gently wiggled the bone with the surgical tool, “is fake.” She managed to remove it from between the phalange and the cuneiform.

“A phony bone?” he said jokingly. She shot him an unamused look before holding the bone up to the magnifier.

Booth moved closer so that he could also look through the glass at the counterfeit piece. “Looks like someone inserted another note,” he said, indicating a hole at the end containing a rolled-up piece of paper. She again took the forceps and pulled the note from its place. They unrolled it and read:

TAKE A TRIP OVER THE RAINBOW

“This is ridiculous,” Tempe growled in frustration. “I don’t know what any of this means.”

“That’s why you’ve got me here, Bones. I’m your resident pop culture guru.”

“Well, I don’t think there are anymore hidden fake bones. Unless there’s a secret compartment in the basket,” she started to inspect the wicker container.

“I don’t think so, Bones. I’m pretty sure this ‘Over the Rainbow’ refers to the bar on M Street.”

“M Street…” she mused thoughtfully. “Like the letter missing from ‘Emerald City?’”

He jerked slightly in surprise. “Yeah, I guess so. Way to listen, Bones.”

She grinned self-congratulatorily. “So I guess we’re taking a trip.”

“I guess so.”

“I’ll call the team to come in here and study these bones and the clues, dust for prints...” she trailed off as she moved towardsthe phone.

“Great. I’ll call the Bureau and let them know we may have a new case.”

***

On M Street, a man sat at a bar with sparkling green countertop. “I’ll take one more Twister,” he said to the bartender.

“You got it.”

He tossed a twenty on the counter when the bartender’s back was turned, and walked out the door without getting his drink. The package had almost certainly been delivered by now, and probably been studied a bit. He smiled and breathed in the cool air. He glanced up at the bar’s sign, then made his way along the sidewalk, in no particular hurry.

The words “Over the Rainbow” glittered benignly on the relatively deserted street.

***

2. Brainless

The black sedan pulled up right in front of the bar, and Booth stepped out and moved quickly around to Brennan’s side. He opened her door and she stepped out, looking at the darkened sign.

“It looks like they’re closed,” she said.

“Yeah, a few minutes ago,” Booth responded, stepping up behind her and following her gaze to the letters above the entrance.

She looked back at the car and said, “You know you can’t park here, right?”

“Sure I can. Government plates.”

“It’s in front of a fire hydrant,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “Well, if there’s a fire, I’ll move it. Come on, I’ll bet the bartender is still cleaning up.” He nudged her back to make her go forward. They got to the door and he tried it. It was unlocked.

A bell jingled over the doorway, and an older man came out of the back room drying a glass with a dishtowel.

“Sorry, folks, we’re closed for the ni—“

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to put the glass down,” Booth interrupted.

“Booth, I don’t think there’s a hidden detonation device in the rag,” Brennan muttered.

“No, Bones, but that glass could have the prints from our perp,” he answered testily.

“Right. Sorry.”

The man had put down the glass and rag, and was now eyeing the pair warily. “Uh, excuse me, but…prints? Perp? Am I in trouble here?”

“No, sir,” Booth answered, shifting his attention back to the man and flashing his badge. “But we have reason to believe that someone has been in here recently who may have committed a crime. We’ll need to gather any evidence there is.”

“Oh, well I’m glad to help in any way I can. What does this guy look like?” the man asked, looking at Booth’s badge interestedly.

“See, here’s the thing,” Booth started, “we don’t actually know.”

“You don’t know?” he asked in confusion.

“We’re not even sure if it’s a man or a woman,” Brennan explained. “We’re just going off of something sent to my office this morning. There was a note—“

“That’s enough, Bones,” Booth cut her off, then turned to the bartender. “Mr., uh…”

“Gale. Henry Gale,” he said proudly. “Like in the movie. People call me Uncle Henry.”

“That’s clever,” Booth feigned interest. “Right, Mr. Gale—“

“Uncle Henry,” Tempe corrected out of the corner of her mouth.

He shot her a look and then turned back to the man. “Uncle Henry…have you had any customers tonight that acted suspicious? Can you remember anything at all that seemed odd to you?”

“Now you mention it, there was this one guy. He was one of my last customers. Ordered one drink and downed it, then ordered another one and left before I even got back to the bar with it. Left a 20 on the bar, too. Drink only cost three bucks.”

“Do you still have that twenty?” Booth asked eagerly.

“Yeah, I think so. It had writing on it, only I don’t recall what it said.”

“Can we see the money, please?” Booth pressed insistently.

“Oh, sure. Lemme just open the safe.” He went into the back room, with Booth and Brennan right behind him.

“Uncle Henry,” Tempe began, “what did the man order?”

“That would be the Twister. One of my own special mixes. I can make you one if you’d like.”

“No, sir, that’s alright,” she said quickly.

“You said he ordered a Twister?” Booth asked interestedly.

“Yep. You want one?”

Booth held up his hand and said, “Can’t. I’m on the job. Do you happen to know if the glass he used is still available? For prints?”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I was just drying the last glass of the night.”

“That’s alright. We might be able to get something off of that twenty dollar bill,” Booth said pointedly.

“Right! The twenty.” He went to the wall safe and started spinning the wheel. The door clicked and Uncle Henry pulled it open and removed a bank pouch. He unzipped it and started to reach into the bag.

“No!” Booth said urgently. “Sorry, but, uh…we need to preserve the evidence as best as we can.”

“Right, of course! Here you go, then,” he handed the pouch over to Booth.

Brennan handed over a pair of gloves without prompting and Booth snapped them on. Then he reached into the pouch and pulled out a bundle of twenties bound with a rubber band. He started sifting through them and came upon one with a message in red ink.

IF YOU CARE TO FIND ME, LOOK TO THE WESTERN SKY

Temperance stood beside him and read the message.

“Another reference to that…Wizard of Id?”

“Oz, Bones. It’s The Wizard of Oz,” Booth said testily. “The Wizard of Id is a comic strip.”

“Sorry,” she said. “So is it another quote?”

Booth shook his head and said, “Well, there was the Wicked Witch of the West, but…I don’t think there was ever actually a line like—“

“Wicked!” Uncle Henry blurted out.

“What?” Booth and Bones said simultaneously, looking up at him.

“I knew it sounded familiar. It’s from that Broadway show Wicked.”

Tempe shook her head and Booth furrowed his brow in confusion and said, “I don’t think I’m familiar with that one.”

“You’re kidding!” the man exclaimed in disbelief. “I thought everyone has heard about it. It’s about how the Wicked Witch became wicked. It’s very good. I’ve got the CD, if you want to listen.”

Booth shook his head and said, “No, Mr. Gale, that won’t be neces—“

“That would be great, Uncle Henry,” Tempe interrupted. She turned to Booth and added quietly, “We might be able to pick up on more clues if we know a little about the musical, too.”

He nodded his head at her, then at Uncle Henry, who seemed quite pleased with himself for being of service to the FBI.

While Uncle Henry went back into the storeroom for the CD, Booth and Brennan sat at the bar and leaned forward to take a closer look at the money that now resided in a clear evidence bag.

Booth’s brow was furrowed in thought and his lips were moving silently while his hands twitched. Brennan was watching him.

“Booth?”

“I was just thinking…” he began.

“I can see why that would take effort,” she quipped.

He shot her a look and continued, “I was thinking, that maybe we missed something about the sign over the door.”

“What brought that on?”

“If you’re on the street, and you face west, the sign is the first thing you see.”

She nodded her head and a smirk presented itself. “Is that why you were twiddling your fingers and talking to yourself?”

“You know what, Bones? I don’t recall you coming up with a theory.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s check it out,” she said appeasingly.

They got up from the bar and Booth called to the back room, “Uncle Henry, we’re going outside to check something out. We’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing,” he responded.

Booth pushed the door open and let Temperance pass in front of him. They stepped onto the sidewalk and both looked up at the darkened sign. Theytook out their flashlights and focused them on the letters.

Booth gave a dry chuckle.

“What?”

“It’s a twister, it’s a twister!” he mimicked, pointing the beam of his light on the tornado jutting out from the building next to the bar’s name.

Bones looked at him, but said nothing. Instead she squinted her eyes and looked at something perched on top of the ornament.

“Is that…” she started.

“A skull,” he finished.

They looked at each other, then scrambled back through the door.

“Uncle Henry,” Tempe called out. He was sitting next to a stereo fiddling with the buttons.

“Yes’m?”

“Do you have a ladder?”

“No, sorry. Will a bar stool do?”

She looked at one of the perches and nodded. “Yeah, that might work.” Booth grabbed the bar stool and opened the door again, setting it underneath the twister. Uncle Henry followed them out curiously.

Booth started to get on the stool, but Brennan grabbed the back of his coat. “I believe I’m the forensic anthropologist here,” she said.

He held up his hands and backed away from the chair. She put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and he held her arm as she climbed up.

“There’s a note wedged in the teeth,” she called down after a short visual inspection. She pulled a small digital camera out of her pocket and took about a dozen pictures before repocketing the camera and pulling out a small forensics kit.

“Got anything else in that black bag?” Booth muttered to himself.

“I heard that,” she said as she extracted the paper from the skull. She replaced the kit inside her pocket and pulled out her flashlight to examine the paper. As she unrolled the paper, she lost her grip on the light, and in her scrambling to catch it before it fell, she lost her balance on the stool. Booth was quick to catch her as she fell backwards.

“You know, Bones, you’d think that with your history, you’d be a little more careful, huh?” he joked as he set her on her feet.

“Yeah, I’ll try to keep that in mind,” she answered distractedly, as she set the note on the barstool to examine it.

IF I ONLY HAD A BRAIN

-M. Crowe

“This one’s signed,” she pointed out unnecessarily.

“Yeah,” Booth said, squinting in thought. “I don’t think it’s our guy’s real name, but I do think I know where this clue is leading.”

“Where?” Tempe asked as Booth started to walk back inside. “Hey, Booth! Where does this one lead us?”

“Call your guys,” he threw back over his shoulder. “They’ll need to pick up this skull. And make it ASAP.” To Uncle Henry, he said, “Do you have a phone book? Yellow pages would be great.”

Uncle Henry pointed to the pay phone in the corner, from which dangled a white and yellow pages volume. Booth flipped to a section and started skimming the list. Brennan was on her cell phone right next to him, watching him trace the page with his finger.

“Yeah, a skull,” Tempe paused as she listened to the other end of the conversation. “No, I really need you to pick this thing up now. We’ve got another lead.” With a quick goodbye, she hung up the phone and focused all her attention on what her partner was doing.

“There,” he said triumphantly, pointing to an entry.

“A psychologist?” Brennan asked.

“Named Marcus Crowe. And check out the names of his partners.”

Tempe read them aloud. “Samuel Ruby and Joseph Gale.”

“Ruby slippers? Another Gale?” Booth prompted.

Temperance nodded her head in understanding. “As soon as my guys get here, we’ll go.”

“Hail Dorothy!”

Brennan just gave Booth a blank look, and they both sat down at the bar to wait for the forensics team.

***

3. Tick-Tock

“Animals teach?” Tempe asked as she flipped through the insert from the Wicked CD case they had borrowed from Uncle Henry.

“Really?” Booth replied interestedly, looking over at her.

“Eyes on the road,” she admonished without looking up.

They were headed to the office of Crowe, Ruby, and Gale. Booth had contacted Dr. Crowe to inform him that they would be dropping by. He agreed to meet them there.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the office. Brennan turned off the car’s CD player. Booth parked the car next to a silver Jaguar convertible. He cut the engine, and a man with peppered hair and beard stepped out of the Jag.

Booth flashed his badge and introduced them. “I’m Special Agent Seeley Booth, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan. You must be Dr. Crowe.”

“Yes. You uh…said you got a lead on a crime that brought you to my clinic?” he asked, concerned.

“Yes, sir. We just need to check it out.”

“Well, I’ll let you in, then.” He pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the front door, pushing it open for the federal agent and the anthropologist.

When he started to follow them inside, Booth turned and said, “Uh, actually, Dr. Crowe, I’m gonna have to have you wait out here. We should have backup here shortly.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just wait in my car.”

“Great idea,” Booth answered with a hint of sarcasm.

When the doctor had gone back out, Tempe addressed Booth, “Okay, I know I’m not great at human interaction, but I got the distinct feeling that you don’t like this guy. You think he did it?”

“Nope,” he answered simply, flicking on the light switch in the waiting room and performing a visual scan.

“Then, why were you so snippy with him?”

“I just have a problem with people like that.”

“People like what? I thought you were okay with psychology.”

“I am okay with psychology. It’s shrinks I’m not too fond of. Did you see what that guy was driving? That car probably costs more than my house.”

“You live in an apartment.”

“You know what, Bones? It’s a figure of speech.”

“Well, it’s a weak argument.”

Booth rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“So the clue we’re looking for…what do you think it’ll be?” Brennan asked after they had thoroughly searched the waiting room and found nothing.

“Well, assuming we’re Dorothy,” Booth started, “we’ll be looking for a clue about the Tin Man.” She gave him a blank look. “He’s a man…made of tin.” Booth shrugged unapologetically for the answer.

“Okay, so…what about the Tin Man? The Scarecrow had something to do with the head, right?” Bren reasoned.

“Yeah. And the Tin Man wanted…” he trailed off.

“What? He wanted what?” Brennan prodded before looking at him and noticing the direction his gaze was pointed.

Perched on the chair where the psychologist would normally sit as he listened to a patient was another picnic basket, identical to the one that had been sent to Temperance’s office earlier. They walked towards it and they each snapped on a pair of gloves.

Booth lifted the lid a little as Temperance peered inside, then slightly recoiled. Sitting neatly on a blood-soaked cushion was a heart. Tempe pulled out her camera and began to take pictures.

“Open the lid a bit more,” Tempe instructed. For the first time, they noticed a note taped to the top that read:

I HEAR A BEAT…HOW SWEET

“That’s weird,” Bren said.

“It’s another quote from the movie,” Booth explained.

“No, I mean…I really do hear a beat,” she said, moving closer to the basket, where she thought the sound was coming from.

Booth’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he heard the sound too. A split second later, he was pulling Brennan back. He pushed her towards the door as the basket exploded, sending pieces of wicker and chunks of heart, as well as other unknown items flying in all directions. He pushed her to the floor and landed on top of her, throwing his hands up to cover his head.

It was a small explosion, but as they sat up, Brennan immediately noticed a cut across Booth’s forehead. She touched the area and he pulled back from her. “Um, ow!” he exclaimed irritably.

Her shoulders slumped in annoyance and she turned her attention to what was left of the basket.

“There goes our evidence,” she said dejectedly.

“Not necessarily,” Booth said. “Maybe the components of the bomb will give us a clue. Plus, there was the clue itself.”

“I assumed that was there to mock us. We really did hear a beat.”

Booth merely shook his head in confusion. “Well, as soon as backup gets here, we should head back to your lab, see if your guys got anything from the other clues.” He stood up and offered her a hand.

“Agreed.” She took his proffered hand and winced as he pulled her up.

“You okay?” he asked, directing his eyes to where she clutched her ribs.

“Yeah, I just…landed on something.” She scanned the floor and discovered a plastic apple where she had been pushed to the ground.

Booth winced sympathetically, then lead her out of the room and out of the building.

When they stepped outside, Dr. Crowe was pacing frantically. When he saw them, he rushed up to them and said, “Oh, my goodness! I heard the explosion, and I didn’t want to go inside, because I didn’t know if it was safe, so I called 911, and—“

“Whoa, whoa! You said you called 911?” Booth asked.

“Yes! I heard an explosion, and I feared the worst, and…”

“Dammit,” Booth said, ignoring Crowe’s rambling.

“What?” Brennan asked, also turning away from the doctor, who seemed unaware of the fact that he was not being paid any attention whatsoever.

“We’re gonna have news crews here in a matter of minutes. I had hoped to keep this thing quiet for at least a couple days.”

“…what will my patients do? They can’t well come to a clinic that’s been—“

“Shut up!” Booth snapped. Dr. Crowe immediately stopped talking. Even as they stood there, they heard sirens.

Before the fire trucks arrived, and just as Booth had predicted, News Channel 10 was on the scene. By the time Booth’s own backup had arrived, there were two other news stations, and all of them had their cameras out, anchors preened, and film rolling.

Brennan had ordered all recovered pieces from the bomb and its surrounding objects be sent to her lab. By the time Booth and Brennan rolled out of the parking lot, there were more news crews than emergency vehicles.

"Hey, call your guys and tell them about the uh...the apple on the floor," Booth said suddenly.

"What? Why?" she asked even as she punched in the number.

"I think it may be another clue," he said, turning the CD player on as she communicated with her team.

“…everything that really counts

To be popular…you’re gonna be popular.

You’ll hang with the right cohorts…”

“Great,” Booth muttered, thinking that this was going to be a very trying case.

“…so let’s start,

‘Cause you’ve got an awfully long way to go.”

***

4. Oh My

“…any particulates you might be able to find. And Ange, I need the face as soon as possible. Let’s give this girl a name, hmm?” Brennan was back at the lab, with the feet and skull laid out on the table next to a large box.

Zach indicated the box, “And what about the pieces from the bomb?”

“I’m not the one who called 911! I don’t want this publicized any more than you do!” Booth was currently on his cell phone in Brennan’s office, presumably talking with his supervisor.

Brennan glanced in the direction of her office before answering, “Those, I will be sifting through myself. When you’re done with the skull and feet, you can come help.”

“Angry? No! I love it when people try to blow me up!”

Zach picked up the feet and left the room while Hodgins picked up the skull and followed Angela out. Brennan broke the seal on the evidence box and peered inside, then turned the box on its side and spread the contents out on the table. She noticed that the yelling had stopped, and she turned to check on Booth. He was pacing her office in silence, jaw clenched and fists flexing and un-flexing.

She turned back to her work. A few minutes passed before she heard his footsteps coming right behind her. She didn’t look up as she asked, “Did they see your point?”

He gave an amused grunt and shook his head despite the fact that she couldn’t see. He asked her, “Why did they send the bomb pieces to your lab?”

“They didn’t. Just what was in the bomb. They’re teeth.”

“Ah.”

He watched her work in silence for awhile, then got bored and walked out the door. She didn’t seem to notice. Two minutes later, he came back in the lab. He glanced over at Brennan, who was now scrolling through pictures of teeth on her laptop, trying to match the samples that had been left behind from the explosion.

He walked into her office and opened the disc compartment on her stereo. He placed Mozart in its case and popped in the borrowed CD. A couple seconds of whirring, then crashing orchestrals emanated from the speakers.

Temperance paused in her study, opened her mouth to yell, then reconsidered scolding Booth for touching her precious stereo without her permission. She just hoped he’d had the decency to file Mozart back in the right place.

Booth tossed the Mozart case on the shelf next to the stereo and skipped through the songs they’d already listened to in the car. He stopped on track 10.

“I AM A SENTIMENTAL MAN…”

“We already listened to that one.”

Booth jumped at the voice. He hadn’t heard Tempe come into her office, but she was standing right behind him.

“We had just started listening to 11,” she continued, reaching around him and pushing the skip button on the stereo.

“Elphaba—why couldn’t you have stayed calm for once, instead of flying off the handle!

I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY

I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY NOW…”

He turned and tossed her a sarcastic smile to match her smug expression. She turned and walked out of the office, but then tossed over her shoulder, “By the way, I’ve identified the teeth.”

He nodded to himself, then followed her out, leaving the stereo playing.

“SO THOUGH I CAN’T IMAGINE HOW

I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY…

RIGHT…

NOW…”

Angela, Hodgins, and Zach had all gathered around the remnants of the explosive when Booth walked up to the table. Brennan had separated the contents into three different piles of teeth and one pile of extra scrap.

“Okay, from what I can tell, this was not meant to be a devastating explosion,” Brennan explained when they were all there. “Just a small-scale pipe bomb containing teeth.”

“Any human?” Booth asked.

“No,” she answered. “They come from three different animals, hence the three piles of teeth. I matched them up as best I could, and came up with panthera leo, panthera tigris altaica, and ursus americanus.”

“Oh, my!” Hodgins said. Brennan gave him a strange look, Zach rolled his eyes, and Angela laughed. Booth looked contemplative for a second, then also burst out laughing.

Tempe shook her head in confusion and said, “I’m sure I’ve missed something.”

Hodgins look at her in amazement and said, “You mean you haven’t seen The Wizard of—“

“Okay,” Booth interrupted, “so we’ve got lions, and tigers, and bears—“

“Oh, my,” intoned Hodgins, Angela, and Zach.

Booth winked at the trio and continued, “But is there anything else that we have to work with?”

Tempe, still looking mildly confused, said, “Uh, no, not until we know more about the pieces of the bomb that your guys have.”

“In that case,” Booth said to her, “we’re gonna go get you an education.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction of her office. “Wait, what do you mean? I had an excellent education! Booth, what am I being educated on?”

He had pulled her into her office and over to the stereo. He waved the Wicked CD case in front of her and pressed STOP on the stereo.

“I’M THROUGH ACCEPTING LIMITS

‘CAUSE SOMEONE SAYS TH—“

He replaced the disc in its case, then grabbed her hand once more and pulled her out the door.

Once in the car, Brennan made to put the CD back in the player, but Booth instead said, “Hang on, I wanna hear if our case is on news radio yet.” He hit the radio preset and they listened.

“—minor explosion. Charles Dawes, our local correspondent, is on the scene with Dr. Crowe, head partner at the office and witness to the event. Charles?”

“Thanks, Dana. I’m here with Dr. Crowe at his clinic—“

“So why is publicity for the case a bad thing?” Brennan asked.

“Because nine times outta ten, the guy doing these things wants the attention, and when he gets it, he usually steps up his efforts.” Booth was clenching his jaw again.

“You know that wears down your back molars and causes tearing in the jaw muscles, right?” Tempe said levelly, looking out the window.

He just grunted.

Five minutes later, he was pulling the sedan into the parking lot of a Blockbuster.

“What are we doing here? We have a case,” Brennan said.

“Research. I told you, we’re getting you an education,” Booth answered matter-of-factly.

“Booth, I don’t want to watch The Wizard of Oz,” she whined. “Can’t I just read the Cliff’s Notes?”

“I’m surprised you’re familiar with Cliff’s Notes. I’m not surprised, however, that you don’t know they’re only for boring books, and not for great movies.”

“Regardless of the purpose of Cliff’s Notes, I still don’t want to watch a movie. We should get back to the lab and run some more tests on the bones.”

“Yeah? What kinda tests?” Booth asked as he ushered her inside.

“Well, there’s…all kinds of tests,” she said lamely.

“Yes, well, while you think of some, we can go retrieve the broomstick.”

He jaunted towards the musicals section while she mumbled to herself, “I don’t know what that means.”

Since Brennan was without a television, Booth convinced her that the best place to watch the movie would be his apartment. They settled onto the couch and he popped the video into the VCR.

“No DVD?” Brennan asked.

“Nope,” Booth answered. “Their only copy is checked out.”

“Oh.” They lapsed into silence as the MGM logo came onscreen.

Five minutes into the movie, Brennan was looking bored. “This girl is so naïve! And annoying!” she complained.

“Bones!” Booth exclaimed, as though she had just affronted him personally. “I can’t believe you’re gonna insult Judy like that!”

“I thought her name was Dorothy.”

“Garland. Judy Gar—you know what? Just watch the movie,” he said, annoyed.

She didn’t say anything else after that.

***

“Oh, Auntie Em! There’s no place like home!”

Booth stood and stretched, then pushed stop and rewind on the VCR. Brennan fidgeted a little, but otherwise remained where she was. He looked at her, and noticed that her lids were heavy and her eyes appeared slightly unfocused.

“You should probably get some sleep, Bones. You’re lookin’ a little drained.”

“I’m fine,” she said thickly.

“Okay,” he answered, walking away.

He went to the hall closet and grabbed a pillow and blanket, and when he got back to where Brennan was sitting, he found her head fallen back against the armrest and her eyes closed.

He chuckled to himself as he unfurled the blanket and draped it over her, then lifted her head gently and placed the pillow underneath. She shifted a little, but otherwise wasn’t disturbed by the movement.

When the tape stopped rewinding, Booth took it out of the VCR, powered it down, and put the video back in the case, then made his way to his bedroom, turning off the lights as he went.

***

A man stared up at the apartment, watching the lights go out. When he was sure he wouldn’t be discovered, he entered the building and went to Booth’s apartment door.

He placed a vase of poppies in front of the door. He straightened, and as he pulled off his rubber gloves, he crooned softly, “Sleep…sleeeep….”

***

5. The Tin Man

“Okay,” Booth said quietly. “Thanks, we’ll be there in about forty-five minutes.” He ended the call on his cell and tiptoed into the living room, where Tempe had fallen asleep just two hours ago.

He knelt down and watched her breathe softly for a few seconds, then leaned towards her so that his lips almost touched her ear and whispered, “There’s no place like home.”

She woke with a start and blinked slowly as she tried to focus.

“Hey,” Booth said.

She took a deep breath and stretched, then paused and said, “Mm, what time is it?”

Booth looked at his watch. “Almost noon.”

She let out a tired groan, then got up from the couch.

“So I’m assuming we’ve got a lead, otherwise you’d have let me sleep longer,” Brennan called from the bathroom, where she was splashing water on her face.

“Yeah, they traced the bomb components to a parts shop called ‘The Tin Man.’ By the way, there’s an extra unused toothbrush in the cabinet if you need it.”

Booth could hear the sound of the cabinet opening and shutting, and Brennan called out, “Thanks.”

Five minutes later, they were ready to go. Booth opened the door and ushered Brennan through, but she stopped. He peered around the door to see what had brought her to a halt, and he saw the vase full of poppies sitting innocuously on the floor in front of his apartment.

She shot him a significant look. “Secret admirer?”

“Har, har,” Booth said. “Do you have gloves? This vase may still have fingerprints on it.”

She was already digging in her pocket, and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. She snapped them on and squatted down to pick up the flowers. She grasped the vase gingerly and walked back inside. Booth cleared a space on the kitchen bar and Brennan set it down carefully.

Booth turned on the lights and walked back to stand next to Brennan. They peered closely at the green glass of the vase, trying to find any distinguishing marks. Tempe rotated the vase slowly with her gloved fingertips.

After they had checked the entire vase and found nothing, Booth took out his phone to call for someone to perform a sweep of his apartment building. Brennan was sitting on a chair still peering at the vase, then she got a strange look on her face.

“A vase of flowers,” Booth said into the phone.

Brennan’s brow was knit in consternation as she looked at her fingers, still sporting the latex gloves.

“Yeah, poppies.”

She brought the gloves up to her nose and took a small whif, then pulled them back again to visually examine.

“In a vase. Right in front of my apartment door,” he continued the phone conversation.

“Booth,” Tempe said anxiously, holding her hands up.

“Yes, I understand the signif—“ he stopped mid-sentence as he noticed that the latex fingertips of her gloves had become transparent, and that there was smoke emanating from them.

He tossed the phone onto the counter and immediately grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her towards the kitchen sink.

“No water!” she shouted before he could turn on the faucet. He jumped back as though he’d gotten an electric shock. “Vinegar,” she gasped. She was shaking and breathing heavily, obviously in pain.

He opened up cupboards in search of vinegar. It took him twenty seconds to locate a bottle, and he unscrewed the cap and grasped her wrists firmly in one hand while his other carefully poured the vinegar onto her fingertips.

Her breathing slowed and some of the shaking subsided. Her brow relaxed a bit as Booth’s thumb made small circles on the pulse point of her wrist.

“Can you help me take these gloves off now?” Brennan asked softly. Booth immediately began to gently remove the gloves.

“No water,” Booth said to himself. “Huh. Well, there’s no doubt as to who left the flowers.”

“Yeah, the Wicked Witch of the West,” Tempe said bitterly. Her eyes were shimmering with the tears she was holding back. Booth noticed, but said nothing.

“Okay, so what can I do besides call a doctor?”

“Don’t call a doctor,” Tempe said. “First, you can let the guy on your cell know that you’re okay. You kinda threw him to the side.”

“Yeah, well your fingers were burning,” he said defensively as he reached for his cell. “Hello? Yeah, I’m still here.”

While Booth listened to the agent on the other end of the phone, Temperance pulled out her flashlight and focused the beam on the vase. She looked closely and discovered that what they thought was part of the design of the container was in fact a very fine layer of white dust covering the glass.

“Quicklime,” she said to herself, moving within inches of the vase, holding her breath so as not to disturb any more of the corrosive substance.

Booth was only half listening to the agent on the phone. He pulled Brennan away from the vase like a distracted parent would their overly curious toddler. Tempe gave him an insulted look before walking away and flopping down on the couch.

Booth followed absentmindedly. He perched on the armrest closest to Brennan, who looked as though she were ready to drop back off to sleep.

Which she did. Brennan’s head fell softly to the side, resting on Booth’s thigh. He idly ran his fingers through her hair as he dialed a different number.

“Yeah, hi, I just need a medical consult,” he said quietly into the phone. “Quicklime on skin. Should I bring this person in to an emergency room or a walk-in clinic or something?”

He paused to listen to the response by the nurse. “On her fingertips.” He was quiet again.

“Uh, hang on, lemme check,” he answered the person on the other end, while reaching down and grasping the closest of Tempe’s hands. He brought her fingertips close so that he could examine them, then spoke back into the phone. “There doesn’t appear to be significant damage. Just some redness, and a bit of abrasion, like she scraped them on a sandblock or something.”

He brushed his thumb softly across her fingertips as he listened to the instructions from the nurse on the phone. “Okay, thanks. Bye.” He hung up and set his phone carefully on the sofa back. Not wanting to disturb Brennan, he didn’t get up, even though sitting on the armrest was not the most comfortable position to be in.

It didn’t matter, though, as a few minutes later a loud knock sounded at his door, jerking Brennan out of sleep for the second time in an hour. Booth stood up once she’d picked her head up off his leg, and he answered the door.

Twenty minutes later, they had left the agents, and were in Booth’s sedan headed towards “The Tin Man.” Brennan had put aloe lotion on her fingers to ease the sting, as recommended by the nurse Booth had talked to over the phone.

“So the actual components were stamped with the parts shop’s logo?” Brennan asked as she read over the report.

“Yep. And backup is meeting us there this time,” Booth answered grimly.

Sure enough, there were government plated vehicles and crime scene tape around the hole-in-the-wall shop, with the hand painted sign fixed above the door bearing the shop’s name and an oil can.

“We’re all clear inside, sir,” an agent told Booth, gesturing that he go on in. Brennan was a step behind him, eyes already studying the exterior of the building for bones or any other clue.

They stepped inside. Shelves lined the walls, all of them filled with various parts. It was…

“A junk shop,” Booth stated. “There’s crap all over the place. How are we supposed to know what we’re looking for?”

“Oh, I think I have an idea,” Tempe called over her shoulder. She stood in front of a display of bike chains. Among them hung a pristine vertebral column.

“This backbone has been cleanly severed from the base of the cranium and the top of the sacrum,” Brennan said, pointing to the respective separation points. “Whoever did this is a very skilled professional,” she murmered in slight admiration, more to herself than for the benefit of anyone in the room.

“Yeah, well, read him your fan letter when we catch him,” Booth said irritably. “What do you got that can help us catch him?”

Brennan looked closely at the bones, then reached into her pocket for her camera. She took several pictures before taking out her forensic kit and using the tweezers to remove one of the invertebral discs that appeared to have been tampered with. Inside it, she discovered another note. She held it up so that Booth could read it with her.

WORK UP YOUR COURAGE, DR. BRENNAN

MEN RULE IN THE JUNGLE

Booth read the note several times, trying to decipher its meaning. Temperance was whispering to herself.

“The Jungle,” she said out loud.

“Yeah,” Booth said, prompting her to finish.

“There’s a men’s club called The Jungle. I’ve been there,” she said. At a glance from Booth, she quickly revised her statement. “I mean, I’ve not actually been there, but I’ve been to a club near there. I know where it is.”

“Well,” Booth said, looking at his watch, “It’s about half past one. I think most places like that open at three. We can grab lunch.”

Brennan nodded. “I could eat.”

“Let’s go.”

***

6. The Jungle

They chose a restaurant across the street from The Jungle. Booth watched the dancers and various other employees enter the club.

He shook his head. “This guy, whoever he is, is nuts. I mean, really sick.”

Temperance paused mid-chew to look up at her companion. She swallowed and said, “More so than any other person we’ve dealt with?”

“Yeah, I mean…who dismembers the body of a young woman and leaves a trail of the pieces as clues? I mean, it’s demented!”

“You said it yourself,” she reasoned. “Some people like to play games with the authorities. This guy is having fun at the expense of a young woman’s life and our time. Are you gonna finish that?” she pointed to the untouched half of Booth’s turkey sandwich.

He shook his head and pushed his plate towards her. “It’s just wrong. The body should not be treated like that.”

“I agree,” she said, chewing thoughtfully on the sandwich.

They finished up and Booth paid the bill. He put on his sunglasses as they stepped out on the sidewalk. They looked at each other, then crossed the street. He held the door to the club open for Tempe to walk through, then followed her inside.

“Okay, so let’s find the manager and tell him the situation,” Booth said.

Brennan nodded and they made their way to the bar.

Booth pulled out his badge and said to the bartender, “Excuse me, my name is Agent Booth, this is my associate, Dr. Brennan. We need to speak to whoever’s in charge.”

“Sure thing,” the guy answered, then called into the back room, “Hey, Leo! There’s some people up here who need to talk to you.”

Brennan tugged on Booth’s arm, and they looked at each other. Her eyebrows shot up and she whispered, “Leo.” Booth nodded his understanding.

A man walked out from the back room holding a clipboard. “Hey, I’m Leo. How can I help you?” he addressed Booth, before turning his attention to Temperance, giving her a once-over with a raised eyebrow.

Leo was a good four inches taller than Booth, and his muscular frame was almost twice as wide. He had tattoos all over his arms and neck, and a countenance that would make anyone think twice about messing with him. This didn’t stop Booth from stepping between him and Brennan.

“Uh, yeah, hi,” Booth said, waving his badge. “We actually had some questions for you.”

The look Leo gave Booth would have made a lesser man back off. But Booth was far too used to such scare tactics to flinch. After a few seconds staring each other down, Leo gave in and said, “Alright, what can I do for you, Agent Booth?”

Booth put his badge away and said, “We were hoping you might be able to tell us if there’s been any sort of unusual activity around here in the past day or so. Anybody who stood out to you?”

Leo’s eyebrows went together, then said, “As a matter of fact, there was a guy who gave me an envelope for you. At first, I told him, ya know, ‘No way, do I look like a f—uh,’” he looked at Temperance, “’a frikkin’ Western Union man?’”

“So you didn’t take the note?” Brennan asked.

“Oh, I took it. After he gave me a hundred bucks. I’m not gonna turn down easy money for something as simple as holding onto an envelope.” He opened the clasp on the clipboard and pulled an envelope from under the inventory sheet he was working on.

Booth had pulled on a pair of gloves, and he reached for the envelope. Leo pulled it back from his grasp. “My instructions were to give it to the lady.”

Booth stood challengingly, but Leo didn’t give in this time. Brennan put a reassuring hand on Booth’s arm and said, “Booth, it’s okay. His hands would be burning if there was anything on the envelope.”

Booth shot her a sideways glance, then moved out of the way for her to take the envelope. She held it up to the light, and Booth moved his head next to hers to also examine the envelope.

When they were sure there was only a slip of paper inside, Tempe carefully tore the end off and popped it open. She used tweezers from her kit to take out the note, just in case there was quicklime inside the envelope.

She spread the note out on the bar.

BELL OUT OF ORDER

PLEASE KNOCK

Booth and Brennan were stymied. But Leo spoke up after reading the note. “There’s a dance platform with some ropes and a bell at the top. The clapper fell out of the bell, so it doesn’t work.”

“Show us,” Booth said. Tempe put the note into an evidence bag, and after sticking it in her pocket, followed the two men.

The crowd was beginning to pick up a bit, and they had to maneuver their way through men ogling bikini-clad women on platforms, and bikini-clad women serving drinks to the men.

“Right here,” Leo said, pointing to a raised platform where a woman was currently performing in a gym-inspired two-piece, swinging on the ropes hanging from the ceiling. “Her act is almost done.”

Brennan watched in fascination. “Look at how incredibly flexible the human body can be,” she said. “It’s amazing.”

“Yeah, amazing,” Booth said, tilting his head to the side to better observe the phenomenon of the human body in motion.

The dancer performed one more particularly difficult-looking feat of acrobatics and ended her act hanging upside-down, spread-eagled, blowing a whistle that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere.

“Amazing,” Booth said again.

Brennan looked over at him and noticed his fascination. “You said that already.”

He looked over at her. “I know. I was just reiterating.”

Brennan rolled her eyes and approached the platform, where the dancer had just stepped down and was moving towards the dressing rooms, dollar bills sticking out from her waistband. Booth forced himself to look up at the bell hanging from the ceiling where the ropes were attached.

Brennan hopped up on the platform and snapped on a fresh pair of gloves.

“Yeah, sweetheart, let’s play Doctor!” someone called out from the men still gathered around the platform.

She looked down at the group in confusion.

The same man yelled, “You can’t operate in that! Take off the clothes!”

She started to move menacingly towards the group, but Booth jumped up on the platform and grabbed onto her, keeping her from going any further.

“Whoa, Bones, he just thinks you’re the next act. No need to go all Buffy on his ass.”

She stared Booth down and said evenly, “I don’t know what that means.”

She nevertheless turned back around to figure out how to get to the bell. “Besides,” she called over her shoulder to him, “I don’t look like a stripper.”

“They’re dancers, Bones, and actually, with your figure, you kinda could be.”

She shot him a venomous look. He held up his hands placatingly and said, “Compliment! It was a compliment.”

She turned back to the ropes. She was now standing directly underneath the bell. She reached out and grasped the closest rope, tugging firmly, then began to pull herself up it. Brennan ignored the men chanting below, watching her progress. There were loops set evenly all up the rope, and when she had reached the top, she secured herself in one and wrapped her arm around the rope to steady herself while she examined the bell.

Meanwhile, Booth began climbing the other rope, and soon he had joined her at the ceiling. “Well,” he said, “the bell is out of order. Should we start knocking?”

“Yes,” she said, rapping on the boards.

“Okaaay,” he said. “I was kidding, but I guess that could work, too.” He started tapping the ceiling as well, though he didn’t really know what he should be looking for.

The group around the platform had disappeared once they realized that Temperance wasn’t the entertainment.

Tempe came to a board that sounded different than the rest. “Hey, Booth,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“This board is different. It’s thinner than the others.” She reached into her coat and pulled out a pocket knife.

“Should you really be doing that?” Booth asked warily, noting that if she were to drop the knife it would likely take out her eye.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. The board popped right out, and she teetered unsteadily for a second. Booth reached out to stabilize her, and she quickly regained her balance.

She passed him the board and reached inside the opening. A few seconds later, she said, “I can’t find whatever’s up here.”

“I don’t think there’s anything there,” Booth said, holding up the board. On the side that had been hidden was painted a green letter M.

***

Across the room, a man sat on a barstool, sipping a glass of water. He watched the agents work for a few more moments, then slid off the stool, placing a twenty on the bar and walking out.

He strolled along the street away from The Jungle, whistling the tune to “Follow the Yellow Brick Road,” and smiled to himself.

***

7. Dorothy Gale

“You’re sure there was nothing in the ceiling space?” Booth asked insistently.

They had climbed back down and were now sitting on the edge of the platform mulling over the possible significance of the green letter M. “I’m sure, Booth.”

“Okay,” he said placatingly. “Maybe Leo knows something about this.”

Tempe shrugged and they got up to find the owner. They found him behind the bar, pouring shots.

“’Scuse me, Leo?” Booth called over the noise.

“Yeah, be with ya in a minute,” he answered, not looking up.

Booth leaned against the counter and looked at Temperance. She was staring at the board, searching for anything they may have missed.

“What else can I do for you, Agent Booth?”

Booth turned back to the manager and said, “Does the letter M mean anything to you?”

“M?” he asked, confused.

“Yeah, we found it painted on a piece of ceiling by the bell.” Tempe held up the board to show him.

Leo squinted at it, then pointed and nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s the sign from vanity station M. That’s Dotty’s.”

“Show us?” Booth asked.

Leo led them to a door near the back of the club. He opened it and gestured for them to enter. Booth had to move out of the way for a woman in a gold-sequined thong and bra. He watched her, and Temperance rolled her eyes and pushed him through the door.

“Here’s her station. Actually, she’s supposed to be here today. Yo, Jasmine!” he called out to a group of dancers.

“What?” a girl who was in the middle of getting her bra on answered.

“You heard from Dotty today? She’s supposed to be here.”

“I tried calling, but she didn’t answer. I figure she stayed at some John’s place, lost track of the time or somethin’.”

“This her?” Booth asked, pointing to a picture. It was of a woman in a blue gingham bikini, long pigtail braids, and—

“Ruby slippers!” Tempe said, pointing to Dotty’s shoes. “Those are the shoes that were on the—“

“Ahem…Bones,” Booth warned.

“What?” Leo asked, looking between the two of them.

She clamped her mouth shut and went back to studying the picture.

“So do you have an address for Dotty?” Booth quickly changed the subject.

“Uh, yeah…” he said. “Um…hang on; I’ll get the employee list. Wait here.” He walked out of the dressing room. Booth and Brennan continued to search for clues at Dotty’s station.

A couple minutes later, Leo came back in. “Her full name is Dorothy Allen. Stage name’s Dorothy Gale. You can probably guess her act. She lives in Yellow Brick Apartments. They’re about a five-minute walk north. Here’s the street addy and apartment number.” Leo handed Booth a piece of paper, and Booth pocketed it.

“Alright, thanks for your help. I’m just gonna ask that nobody touch her station, okay? We’ll have an investigative team here in a few minutes to check it out,” Booth instructed.

“Yeah, sure thing. Nobody’s gonna go near it.”

“Great. Hey, do you mind if I hold onto this picture? Evidence,” Booth added.

Leo gave a knowing smile. “Yeah, sure. Keep it.”

“Come on,” Brennan said with annoyance, pushing Booth towards the exit.

“What? It really is for investigative purposes only,” he told her defensively as they made their way to the door.

“Whatever you say,” she answered patronizingly.

He gave up on trying to convince her.

“Okay, Leo said north,” Booth said, situating himself outside, then pointing in the right direction. “Let’s go.”

They made little conversation as they walked. Brennan tried to engage Booth in speculation about where the next clue might lead, but he seemed preoccupied.

“Booth, are you listening to me?” she asked, frustrated.

He casually reached out and grasped her right hand in his left and muttered, “Just act natural.”

“What does that even mean?” she asked. Nevertheless, she wove her fingers through his and matched his stride.

“Don’t look, but we’re being followed,” he said to her, tugging her hand to make her slow down a bit.

“Believe it or not, I did pick up on that,” she said sarcastically.

He spared an ironic grin as they passed through a crowd of people heading in the opposite direction. Without warning, he pulled her into an alley and spun her so that her back was pressed against the wall. He pressed his body against hers to make himself less visible to passersby on the street.

He looked to his left and saw a man sitting next to a dumpster giving them a strange look.

Booth realized how odd their position looked. So he made it appear a bit more explicable. He took her face between his hands and started kissing her. She was taken by complete surprise before responding to him.

But before it escalated into a genuine embrace, the man who was following reached the corner of the alley, and Booth grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in. He slammed the guy against the wall, simultaneously whipping out his badge and shoving it in the guy’s face.

Temperance stood by, catching her breath and taking in the new situation.

“Who the hell are you, and why are you following us?” Booth growled at the man, who was cowering before him.

“Please, don’t hurt me. My name is Allen Chambers. I was just hired to follow you. That’s it, I swear!”

“Hired by whom?” Temperance asked calmly.

Allen looked over at her. “I don’t know who he is. He approached me, offered me a hundred bucks to just follow you. He didn’t need me to report to him or anything! Just said to follow you guys until you went into a building.”

“What’d he look like?” Booth asked, backing away a little and putting his badge back into his coat pocket.

Allen shook his head. “I didn’t see his face. He came up from behind me, pointed to you guys leaving the strip joint, waved the hundred in my face and told me to follow you. He was gone when I turned around.”

“Mr. Chambers, can we take a look at that money, please?” Brennan asked as Booth got on the phone to one of the guys at The Jungle.

“Sure, here,” he took the money out and held it out to her. Booth put a hand on her arm warningly, but she was already pulling out gloves.

She took the money from him and held it up so that Booth could look, too. In green ink was printed another message.

COME WITH ME

TO THE EMERALD CITY

A forensic technician walked around the corner of the alley, and Booth strolled over to greet him. They bagged the money, and Allen Chambers, being of no further use to them, was released. He didn’t say a word about losing the hundred dollars.

“Do we have any idea what the Emerald City is? I mean, is there an actual place with that name?” Brennan asked Booth once he’d finished briefing the tech.

“Let’s check out the apartment first, see if we can’t pick up some more clues there. CSU’s meeting us.”

They walked the remaining three blocks and came upon the Yellow Brick Apartments.

“Well that’s a misnomer,” Booth said disappointedly, indicating the bland gray cement structure. “Maybe it’s brighter inside.”

It wasn’t. The building apparently got its name because of all the friends you meet there. Brennan inched closer to Booth as they walked past a scruffy-looking man whose eyes were so bloodshot that she was sure he was on a permanent high from any number of drugs. The smell of marijuana alone almost made her lose her lunch.

They got to Dotty’s apartment, 15, and Booth knocked on the door. “Dorothy Allen, F.B.I., are you in there?” He knocked a little louder and called again, “Ms. Allen, if you’re there open up or make us aware of your presence.”

“Booth, I’m pretty sure she’s dead,” Temperance said.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she is, too, but I’ve got to follow procedure,” he said to her, then turned to the team standing by and said, “Alright, guys, no response. Break it.”

He pulled Brennan out of the way so that the officers could ram the door in. He pulled out his gun and held it at the ready.

The door was broken in, and Booth instructed Temperance to wait in the hall. Naturally, she followed the team in.

The sharp, coppery scent of blood permeated the room.

The agents called “Clear” through the apartment, and Booth holstered his gun and walked over to where Tempe was studying the pool of blood in the center of the living room.

“I thought I told you to wait in the hallway,” he admonished.

She gave him a look that said, And since when have I ever listened? “I think it’s safe to say that this is where she was killed.”

“Good deduction,” he quipped. Before she could respond, he said, “C’mere, lemme show you something else.”

He led her to the apartment’s single bedroom. Scrawled across the wall in the victim’s own blood was another message.

PAY NO ATTENTION TO

THAT MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN

Booth let out an audible sigh. “I really hope this guy isn’t gonna quote the whole movie in clues.”

Tempe closed her eyes and let her head drop in exhaustion.

***

8. Oreo

The forensics team bustled around them as they considered the latest clue. Brennan’s gaze was focused on the window in contemplation. A small frown presented on her brow.

“What’s up?” Booth asked at her expression, following her gaze.

“Behind the curtain,” she murmured.

She went to the window and pulled back the green curtain. She and Booth started checking the wall for any other messages. Booth craned his neck to look behind the curtain rod while Temperance checked the windowsill carefully. Something else caught her eye, though. She reached up and tugged at Booth’s shirt, straightening.

“Booth, look down at that street on the back side of the building. Tell me what you see.”

He squinted as he quickly scanned the storefronts. He shook his head, “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“The Oreo guard,” she said, pointing vaguely.

He gave her a bemused look. “The what guard?”

“Oreo,” she said bluntly. “You know, the guys.”

At his continued blank stare, she lowered her voice and spoke conspiratorially, “You know…” she checked to make sure no one was in ear shot and started to intone, “O-re-o, yohhh-oh.”

He gave a small snort before bursting out in a full-on laugh. The agents in the room looked over, but didn’t inquire.

She stood by quietly as his amusement subsided. She looked hurt by him laughing at her. “I’m sorry, Bones, I just…I don’t actually think they say ‘Oreo.’”

“Well, whatever they say,” she snapped. “There’s one of them on a sign down there. The name of the place is blocked by the building next to us, but it starts with an E. I’m betting that’s the Emerald City.”

He took a closer look, and sure enough, there was one of the Witch’s guards—the “Oreo” guards—on the sign.

“Nice catch, Bones. Saved us a search through the white pages,” he said appeasingly.

She didn’t acknowledge the compliment. She just turned and walked out of the room.

If I only had a brain, he thought to himself as he followed her out of the apartment and down the stairs. They exited the apartment building and made their way through the alley to get to the other street.

The Emerald City, as a window notice advertised, sold mostly Wizard of Oz memorabilia, as well as some Wicked merchandise. The outside of the shop was an unimpressive, bland gray. The green lettering and figure on the sign offered the only color on practically the whole block.

“Hey, Bones, notice something about the sign?” he pointed upwards.

“The M is missing,” she said, nodding.

“Just like in the anagram.”

“Think we’re getting close?” she asked.

“God, I hope so,” he said, pulling the door open and ushering her inside. Just as she went to walk in, a man in a green shirt walked out.

“Oh, excuse me,” the man said apologetically. Tempe stepped aside and offered a polite smile before resuming entering the shop.

“Whoa,” Tempe said, stopping in her tracks, causing Booth to run into her.

He grabbed her shoulders to steady himself, and when he looked around, he gave his own input. “Whoa.”

The shop’s interior was cheerfully lit, and the shelves were lined neatly with all sorts of colorful collectibles and merchandise.

“I feel like Dorothy stepping into Technicolor™,” Booth said after a few seconds of slack-jawed staring.

“I think that’s the idea,” Brennan answered, also still looking around.

“Hi, how can I help you?” a voice called from somewhere behind the counter. A few seconds later, a man’s head popped up. He stood on a stool so that he could see over the counter.

“Uh, hi,” Booth started, “we’re actually just gonna look around a bit.”

“Take your time. My name’s Jerry, and I’ll be right back here if you need me.” He pointed to a green curtain that obviously served as a partition to a back room.

“Thanks,” Booth answered. They both watched as he disappeared below the counter again.

Booth looked at Brennan and raised his eyebrows, but otherwise said nothing of the man’s size. It was probably good for business.

Booth was checking out the nearest shelf when something caught his eye. He reached behind him and grasped at air before finding what he was feeling for: Brennan’s shirt. He tugged it and she turned to where he was staring at an object on the shelf.

“Right arm, severed neatly at the shoulder.” Brennan was already in full scientist mode. “Hand appears to be…” she trailed off.

“Pointing,” Booth finished. He turned his head in the direction the skeleton was pointing and started walking that way, taking in as much detail as he could, trying to find the next hint. Brennan was already on the phone with the lab.

Booth turned the corner and found the matching arm. “Bones,” he called out. She came walking up behind him, finishing up her phone conversation and pocketing her cell.

“Looks like we found the left arm,” she stated obviously.

“It’s pointing to the sign,” he said.

I’D TURN BACK IF

I WERE YOU

Brennan shook her head in frustration, but Booth was looking at a reflection in a glass display case right next to the sign. He turned around.

“Bones,” he said again.

When she turned around, she found herself looking at a perfect replica of the red sand hourglass from the movie. A quarter of the sand had fallen already.

“Booth.” Brennan was looking at something on the shelf next to the hourglass.

He craned his neck to look. Brennan put a glove on and picked it up.

“Oh, my God,” Booth said, looking at the photo that Brennan was holding.

It was a picture of a girl, no older than fifteen, bound and gagged. She had a look of utter terror on her face. Temperance flipped it over. On the back was written:

HURRY, PLEASE HURRY!

THE HOURGLASS IS ALMOST EMPTY!

“Booth, look.” Tempe pointed to a newspaper lying next to the girl in the photo. “This is today’s paper. She could still be alive.”

Booth tapped the hourglass and a look of realization appeared on his face. “He was just here!” He strode back to the front of the store and called, “Jerry!”

“Yeah, what can I do for you?”

“There was a guy in here,maybe fifteen minutes ago,” Booth said. “Do you know who he is?”

“There have been a few people in here,” Jerry answered.

“Well, any information you can give us on them would be great,” Booth said urgently.

Brennan hadn’t been paying attention to the exchange. She was looking at an ad for a hot air balloon ride enterprise. “Excuse me, what can you tell me about this?” she asked Jerry, pointing to the poster. Booth glanced at the poster, then back at Jerry.

“Professor Marvel Balloon Rides. What do you wanna know?”

“I’m curious about this man in the photo,” she said, indicating a picture of a white-haired man dressed uncannily like—

“The Wizard. That’s the guy who runs it. Fruitcake, if you ask me. But he’s my best customer, so I advertise for him.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have his real name, would you?” Booth asked, whipping out a notebook and pen.

“Naw, he only goes by The Wizard. Pays cash for everything he buys.”

“Was he in here recently?” Booth prompted.

It was Brennan who spoke up. “Yeah.”

Jerry and Booth looked over at her.

“Bones?” Booth left the question unasked.

“He was just walking out when we were walking in,” she explained. “I didn’t recognize him right away because of the costume.”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Jerry confirmed. “Shame he’s closing up shop.”

“What?” Booth and Brennan said together.

“Yeah, he told me that after today, I can take down the flyer. He’s packin’ up and movin’ out.”

Seeley and Temperance looked at each other, and Booth said, “Do you know why?”

“No idea.”

“Dammit,” Booth muttered.

Brennan was looking out the window. “Backup’s here,” she said.

Booth and Brennan lead the forensics team to the remains. At the hourglass, which had lost a few more minutes, one of the investigators called out, “Hey, I’ve got something else over here!”

Brennan and Booth were almost out the door, but they came back to see what he’d found.

The CSU tech held up the note.

BE GONE BEFORE SOMEBODY

DROPS A HOUSE ON YOU, TOO

“It was under the shelf, like it had fallen out of someone’s pocket,” the tech explained.

Brennan picked up the photo, which was now bagged, and looked at it again.

Booth saw, and he asked, “What’s up?”

“I think I know where this picture was taken.”

“Where?” Booth asked, looking at it over her shoulder.

“Shipping docks. See the rivets?” she indicated the pinpoints of light. “And her wrists are bound with baling rope.”

“Which docks?” Booth wondered aloud.

They looked at each other, then turned together and called out, “We need the Yellow Pages!”

***

9. West Castle

“Yeah, Booth has got a team meeting us there. Yeah, West Castle Shipping. This girl only has about half an hour,” Brennan said, looking at her watch.

“Bones, watch the road!” Booth yelled. She slammed on the brakes, stopping just inches short of smashing into the car at the red light in front of them.

“Damn, I dropped the phone,” she said, looking around for it.

“Bones. Eyes. Road,” Booth ordered, gesturing at the now green light.

“I was talking to Ange,” she argued. “Help me look for it.” She started to feel around the center console while her other hand was on the wheel and her foot pushed the gas.

“I’ll look for it,” Booth admonished, grabbing her wrist and placing her hand on the wheel.

He couldn’t find the phone in the center console between the seats, and as far as he could tell, it wasn’t on the floor. Suddenly, it started to ring.

“Uh, I think I’m sitting on it,” she said, taking her hand off the wheel.

“Bones!” Booth started. “I’ll get it! Lift up.”

She lifted her hips slightly so he could grab the phone. He felt around for it, but couldn’t locate it.

“Sometime soon would be nice, Booth,” she said.

“Relax, Bones, I’m not trying to feel you up,” he answered irritably. His fingers finally made contact with the phone, and he hit the send button and spoke into it.

“Hello?” Tempe reached over to take the phone, but he batted her hand and pointed to the road.

“Hey, Angela, yeah we’re fine,” Booth said. He paused to listen, then replied, “No, she’s driving while I call around to get teams at the shipping yard.”

He hung up with Angela, then reached over and put the phone in Tempe’s coat pocket.

Ten minutes later, they were gathered with other agents, getting ready to storm the shipping yard to look for the missing girl.

They split up to cover the most ground in the time limit. Booth and Brennan were with two other agents to check the section closest to the docks.

“Maybe I should have a gun,” Brennan said.

“Don’t start, Bones. Just stick with me, okay? No wandering.”

“Okay,” she said half-heartedly.

“I mean it!” he warned.

“Hey, you two wanna speak up? I don’t think the other end of the shipping yard can hear you,” one of the agents hissed.

They immediately stopped talking, and Tempe walked sulkily behind Booth.

“Alright, you two start with the crates on the left, and we’ll head to the right, and we should all meet in the middle,” Booth said. They split, and went in their separate directions.

A few rows in, they came to a crate bearing the message “TO OZ.”

“Think this is it?” Booth asked sarcastically. Brennan, who was closest to the latch, tugged on the lock. She looked around for something to break it off with, and her gaze fell on Booth’s gun.

She looked up at him pointedly, and he started to move forward, then he saw that something was wrong. It took him half a second to react. He rushed Brennan and pushed her out of the way of the falling door, and she ended up on the ground with him on top of her, safely out of the way of the heavy lid.

Booth jumped up and held his weapon poised to shoot. He scanned the immediate area for the person responsible, but found no one.

Brennan was off the ground and dusting herself off. “You alright, Bones?” Booth called over his shoulder, chancing a quick glance before returning his gaze to the area where the door lay on the ground.

“I’m fine,” she said, walking back towards the crate.

“Bones!” Booth exclaimed, grabbing her arm. “Not sure if you recall, but a very heavy lid just about fell on you.”

“Because it was rigged to,” she said, piercing him with one of her ‘I just barely escaped imminent danger and I’m merely annoyed by it’ stares.

“Rigged?” he asked.

“Yeah, look at the latch. The minute I started pulling the lock, it released, and the whole door fell.”

“Yeah, almost on top of you,” he said for emphasis, moving forward again. “Just stay here while I check inside, huh?” he pleaded.

She rolled her eyes, but nodded her head in agreement.

He stepped into the opening, then turned back around and said, “Hey, do you have—“

Before he could finish his sentence, she was holding out her flashlight for him to use.

He gave a sheepish grin and said, “Thanks,” before going back into the container again.

While he looked for the girl, Temperance studied the area around the opening of the container, trying to find any other clues. She moved to get a closer look at the “TO OZ” message written on the side, when suddenly a cloth was pressed over her mouth, and a strong arm wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms in the process. The cloth was soaked in a sweet-smelling chemical that she knew to be chloroform. She let out a muffled yell, but it wasn’t enough for Booth to hear.

Booth, meanwhile, had reached the back of the crate. Lying in a huddle in the corner was the girl from the photo. Her hands and feet were bound, and she was gagged. He holstered his gun after making sure there was no one else, and rushed to the girl. He loosed the gag and cut the bindings on her wrists and feet.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered.

“Shh…it’s okay, I’m with the FBI. You’re safe now,” he said soothingly. Then he called out to the opening of the container, “Bones, she’s in here. Get the other agents.” When she didn’t reply, he tried again, “Bones! Did you catch that?”

He didn’t hear an answer. His brow knit in concern, he turned back to the girl and picked her up. As he was walking out, he called out for her again, “Temperance? What’s going on?”

When he walked out into daylight again, he saw the two agents they had been teamed with. He passed the girl to the nearest and asked, “Where’s Dr. Brennan?”

The agent looked confused. “She’s…not with you?” he asked.

Booth opened his mouth, but was at a loss for words. He performed a visual scan of the area, then said to them, “She was supposed to wait right here while I went in and checked the container.”

“Agent Booth?” The man holding the girl was looking at something on the ground next to the container.

Booth leaned over and picked it up.

RING AROUND THE ROSES

A POCKET FULL OF SPEARS

THOUGHT YOU’D BE PRETTY FOXY, DIDN’T YA?

WELL! THE LAST TO GO WILL SEE

THE FIRST THREE GO BEFORE HER!

AND HER MANGY LITTLE DOG, TOO!

“There’s more on the back,” the agent said.

Booth flipped the paper over and saw an ad for Professor Marvel’s Balloon Rides. Scrawled across the ad was another message:

HOW ABOUT A LITTLE FIRE, SCARECROW?

“Get the other agents together,” Booth said urgently. He shoved the ad into the agent’s hand. “We’re going here.”

***

10. I’m Melting!

Booth whipped his sedan onto the dirt lane leading to the balloon field. He ground to a stop and jumped out of the car, pulling out his gun and moving quickly but cautiously to the only other car parked there. It was a green Ford Mustang, its license plate had “OFF2OZ” on it, and there was a bumper sticker that said “Don’t you have to go feed your flying monkeys?”

“Must be the place,” Booth muttered, proceeding to the field where he could see about twenty hot air balloons, half of them inflated and tethered to the ground.

He peered into the baskets that he passed on the ground, not really expecting to find her in one of them. When he reached the first inflated balloon, he called out, “Bones?”

He didn’t hear her answer, nor did he see the basket move. He couldn’t be sure that she was conscious. Or alive, he thought to himself, then forced the thought back. “Temperance!” he called out across the entire field. He watched closely for any sign of movement in the other floating balloons.

But what caught his eye was not motion. “How about a little fire,” he murmered to himself, breaking into a full run. He stopped underneath a balloon with flames printed on it and yelled up to the basket, “Temperance! Are you up there?”

Finally, he saw the basket move. “Bones?” he called again.

“Booth?” she answered groggily.

He sighed with relief and said, “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

There was a pause as she assessed her situation, then she called out, “I’m tied up!”

“Okay, I’m climbing up to get you!” he called, moving to the rope keeping the balloon from drifting away. He holstered his gun and began pulling himself up the rope.

“Booth!” Tempe yelled. “The rope is connected to the torch!”

He immediately dropped back down. He considered his options before calling up to her, “I’m gonna wait for backup. Are you okay up there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Suddenly, Booth heard another torch fire up. He looked around and saw the man they were after—The Wizard—cutting the rope tethering his balloon to the ground.

Booth started to move in his direction, when he heard a small pop behind him. He spun back and saw that the peg holding Brennan’s tether to the ground had been set with a charge. The balloon was rising and Temperance was calling out to Booth.

He ran and jumped to grab a hold of the rope. He could hear the torch going, but he continued to climb, refusing to abandon Brennan.

By the time he’d climbed to the lip of the basket, they were high over the field and Booth could see backup finally arriving far below them. He pulled himself over the edge of the basket and immediately went to Brennan.

Her wrists and ankles were tightly bound, just like the girl he’d rescued at the shipping yard. He cut the bindings and took her wrists in his hands, rubbing them to help restore circulation. He saw that the skin was red and raw, and he placed a gentle kiss on the inside of each wrist before standing up and surveying their surroundings. He saw the Wizard’s balloon a few dozen yards away, and he got an idea.

Pulling out his weapon, Booth aimed carefully. Brennan was pulling herself up when he fired the first shot.

“Geez, Booth!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t that against some FBI code, shooting at an unarmed suspect?”

“I’m not shooting at him, Bones,” he said, taking aim again. “I’m trying to hit the torch so that he can’t go any higher.”

“That could explode,” she said, though her tone indicated that it was more of an intrigued statement than an objection.

“There is a high probability of that,” he answered with the air of one discussing the weather. He fired another shot, and this time he hit his mark.

There wasn’t much by way of an explosion, but the material of the balloon was doused in torch fuel and caught fire. His balloon sank from the sky, and as he was going down Booth and Brennan could hear him yell, “I’m melting, me-e-e-e-elting! Oh, what a world, what a world!” He landed with a hard thud right in a circle of very irritated FBI agents.

“Eat your heart out, Margaret Hamilton,” Booth muttered, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what that means,” Brennan answered.

He merely looked at her appraisingly. She broke into a grin to show that she was kidding, and he laughed.

Despite being stuck for the time being in a balloon, with no knowledge of how to operate it besides making it go higher, Booth and Brennan were in pretty high spirits.

They sat down next to each other and leaned against the wicker side. There was no wind, but the air was colder at that altitude, and when Brennan began to shiver, Booth took off his blazer and wrapped it around her, leaving his arm draped over her shoulders.

“We did good, Bones.”

She looked at him and gave him that lopsided smile that he secretly loved. “Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she lay her head on his shoulder. They sat in silent reflection of their day.

Dusk fell on one balloon drifting down to meet flashing lights.

***

11. There’s No Place Like Home

“I empathize with the witch. I mean, she can’t help that she was born green, any more than you or I can help being caucasian,” Brennan argued.

Booth just smiled and shook his head at her.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Brennan said at Booth’s smirk.

“No. I think you’re smart, caring, kickass when you need to be...and beautiful,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. He then took a swig of his drink and added, “I know you’re crazy.”

She punched him lightly on the arm and tried to look annoyed as she sipped her own drink. He in turn pretended to be wounded by her attack.

After an hour waiting for the balloon to ground, and a thorough recovery of the rest of Dotty’s remains, which were in the balloon with the Wizard, Booth and Brennan had decided to go and celebrate—Over the Rainbow.

“So why’d he do it?” Temperance asked all of a sudden.

“The Wizard?” She nodded her head. “I dunno, Bones, he kinda…went on and on about sacriledge, and how people like Dotty, who misrepresent the movie…” he trailed off, waving a swizzle stick around. “He was raving. Couldn’t get a coherant sentence out of him. Kept quoting the movie.”

“Can I get you two anything else?”

“No thanks, Uncle Henry,” Booth said to the man. “I, personally, am stuffed. That ‘Scarecrow’s Pie’ was delicious.”

The genial gentleman beamed at the compliment. “And what about you, miss?”

“Same,” Brennan answered, patting her full stomach. “But thanks.”

“Well, it’s on the house tonight.”

At their protests, he held up his hand and said, “Nope. I won’t take no for an answer. You stopped a wicked man—pardon my pun—from sullying the name of one of the most beloved movies ever made. It’s the least I could do,” he finished valiantly.

They thanked him graciously, and Booth decided to leave a generous tip.

“Well, what’s his real name?” Tempe resumed her questioning.

“Don’t know that, either. He’s not giving it up, and his prints aren’t in our database,” Booth answered with a sigh and a shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe time will tell.”

She nodded and studied Booth’s face. Then she said, “One more thing.”

Booth turned and faced her, his eyebrows raised in question. She brought her hands up and placed them on either side of his face, pulling him down to meet her lips. He complied immediately, his fingers tangling in her hair. They broke apart, breathing rates and heartbeats slightly elevated.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"Unfinished business," was all she would say.

Booth tossed the money on the bar and took her hand, pulling her towards the door.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Well…you know what they say,” Booth answered, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

He broke into a slow smile and leaned towards her so that their noses were almost touching and he whispered, “There’s no place like home.”

End.

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