This is for Cullen's Bullpen Challenge, May. Didn't get inspired to write something to do with a fairy tale until just today, so forgive me if it's a little odd.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or the Grimm Brothers, who wrote Hansel and Gretel. Actually, they don't really own it either, since it's adapted from a Germanic tale, but whatever. You get the point.. I'm not making any money off this.
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Trees lined the narrow dirt road, their dense, leafy branches tangling in the middle to form a tunnel. Though it was midday, it was dark in the primitive-feeling forest. The trees stood improbably close, making it difficult to see more than a few feet off the road. Booth inched the SUV along, bouncing and jarring over the ruts that peppered the road.
The road turned sharply and Booth cringed as he tried to maneuver the curve. Brennan watched the branches scrape across her window. She sincerely hoped they wouldn't meet anyone coming the opposite direction, as there was barely enough room for the SUV, much less two cars.
"I thought it was only two miles down this road," Brennan complained.
Booth checked the odometer. "We've only gone 1.4 miles," he grumbled.
Groaning, Brennan leaned back against the headrest. They were on their way to question a suspect in their latest case involving the murders of three young children. Two more children had gone missing and Booth suspected the incidents were related. The missing children had been last seen near these woods and when Booth discovered that a woman lived out here, he decided they needed to pay her a visit.
The front wheel on the passenger side dipped into a particularly large rut and Brennan smacked her head on the side window. She rubbed her head furiously and glared at Booth.
"Can you be more careful?"
"Sorry, it's not like there's anywhere for me to swerve to, you know?"
Brennan huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She watched the trees out her window, trying to peer into the forest. It definitely looked a little creepy out there and she wondered why children would come here to play. She vaguely remembered Russ and his friends daring each other to do dangerous things when they were kids—maybe that was why the children had been out here.
After what seemed like hours of barely moving along the road, Booth rounded a bend and pulled into a sudden clearing. A house stood before them, though it was definitely not what they were expecting. Brennan glanced at Booth, her eyes wide with disbelief. He was frowning at the house, his brow crinkled.
"Is it just me, or does that look like…" she trailed off.
"Yeah," Booth muttered and opened the door.
She met him at the hood of the SUV and they gazed at the house. It was covered with glossy, deep brown shingles. The trim was painted with white and red stripes and resembled nothing so much as peppermint candy. Perched in the ornate flower boxes that adorned every window were what looked like oversized plastic gumdrops. Instead of shutters, giant wooden pretzels hung alongside each of the windows.
Booth sighed. "This can't be good."
They approached the door cautiously and Booth knocked twice. From inside, they heard a few muffled thuds and then a hoarse voice called out.
"I'll be right there, my dears!"
Booth and Brennan exchanged glances. The door swung open slowly to reveal a haggard old woman. Her clothes were threadbare and hung loosely from her hunched body. She leaned on a gnarled wood cane.
"Can I help you?" she smiled sweetly, revealing teeth the color of caramel.
Brennan thought she saw Booth nearly gag, though she may have imagined it. He held out his ID for the woman to inspect.
"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI, ma'am. This is my partner, Dr. Brennan. May we come in?"
"Oh, of course, yes, do come in," she invited, shuffling aside to let them through.
They stepped into a room straight out a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. The furniture was upholstered in a headache-inducing floral fabric that looked like it had been made before Lincoln was elected. The legs of all the furniture were painted in white and red stripes to match the trim on the house. The tops of the coffee table and end tables were light brown with small black dots painted on them. There were bowls of hard candy, chocolates, and gumdrops on every surface. The faded pictures on the walls were of clowns, carnivals, and puppies. Brennan felt nauseated.
"Why is your, uh, house…" Booth gestured vaguely.
"What's with the candy?" Brennan asked.
The old woman chuckled and took a seat in an armchair. The chair creaked ominously under her weight.
"I'm afraid I have a bit of a sweet tooth," she explained. "My daddy had a candy shop when I was a little girl, and I've always just loved surrounding myself with it."
Brennan stared at her skeptically. Booth moved to sit opposite the woman but as he got an up-close view of the couch, he seemed to change his mind. He cleared his throat.
"I was wondering if you've seen these children around," he said, pulling two pictures from his jacket pocket. He handed them to the woman and she peered rheumily at them.
"They were seen around these parts about two days ago," he told her.
The woman shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I don't see many people these days.
Booth nodded. He opened his mouth to ask another question but was interrupted by a loud thud and muffled voices from the adjacent room.
Arching his eyebrows at the woman, he asked, "Who was that?"
The woman glanced around nervously, her fingers fumbling with her cane. "That's just my cat," she said abruptly.
"Mind if I have a look?"
Without waiting for an answer, he headed toward the door. When he reached it, he drew his gun, holding it aimed at the floor. The old woman protested and struggled to get out of her chair. Brennan glanced at the woman scornfully and moved to stand behind Booth.
He gestured at the old woman still attempting to rise from her seat. "Go watch her, Bones," he instructed.
Brennan rolled her eyes. "I don't think she's going anywhere."
Turning the handle, Booth slowly inched the door open. His eyes widened as he surveyed the scene inside the room. Brennan, still standing behind her partner, prodded him in the shoulder.
"What is it? Booth, you're blocking my way," she complained.
He pushed the door open the rest of the way and holstered his gun. Inside was a room that Brennan had seen before, but only in books. It was an ancient kitchen. A large wood-burning stove sat in one corner, its fire crackling menacingly. The long counter held a basin and several overlarge knives. Crouched under a window, a chain leading from the wall to her ankle, was a small girl of about seven years. Next to her, in a cage nearly all gone to rust was a boy, her brother.
Brennan pushed past Booth and ran to the children. She heard Booth leave the room and begin Mirandizing the woman. She knelt in front of the now sobbing children.
"Gretchen?" she asked the girl. At the girl's nod, she turned to the boy. "Hank?"
She reassured them as best she could. The little girl clambered into her lap and Brennan reached through the bars of the cage to hold Hank's hand. Booth appeared in the doorway and tossed her a set of keys.
"Found these."
After freeing the children, Brennan checked them over for injuries. They both seemed more or less unharmed, at least physically. The ordeal of being kidnapped by an old woman who lived in such a grotesque house right out of a fairy tale would almost assuredly have other, less tangible, effects.
She led the children out of the house, passing Booth and the handcuffed old hag who were still in the living room. She helped the children into the back of the SUV to wait while backup arrived. Thinking of the narrow aisle through the trees, Brennan settled in for a long wait.
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That evening, Brennan sat in her office filling out the last of her paperwork on the case. It had been truly surreal. There was no way she could have ever imagined this ending when Booth had first walked in with the case file. She bent her head to sign her name yet again but looked up when she heard the unmistakable sound of Booth's voice from the hallway.
He strode purposefully down the hallway and she couldn't help but notice the masculinity of his walk. Hodgins, Angela, and Zack trailed behind him, tossing question after question at him. Before long they were in her office, taking over her couch and chairs.
"So it was seriously a gingerbread house? That's awesome, man," Hodgins said, amused.
"It wasn't actually made out of sweets, Hodgins," Brennan muttered.
Booth rolled his eyes at her. "That's not the point, Bones."
"Yeah, the point is you were literally in a fairy tale this afternoon," Angela grinned. "It's just too bad that Booth didn't get to push the old witch into the oven."
Zack piped up, "I'm sure that wouldn't actually have been necessary."
"We get it, Zack. It's a joke." Hodgins said. Zack shrugged in response.
"So what do you think your next case will be?" Angela asked. "Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White?"
"Hey, I'll take any of those. I'd get to rescue beautiful women if that were the case," Booth chuckled. Brennan shot him a glare.
Angela laughed. "If it's Snow White, I bet Hodgins and Zack would make great dwarves."
"Yeah," Booth beamed, clearly impressed with the idea. "Nutty and Brainy."