Part 2

Booth walked down the stone corridor with a set of keys jingling in his hand. He found a guard standing outside some ancient-looking cells, and behind the metal bars, a wild-eyed Hodgins was pacing up and down.

"Thank God, man," Hodgins hissed when he saw him. "What's—Did you—?"

"Shut up," Booth said. He unlocked the door, then propelled Hodgins down the hall in front of him, while giving the guard what he hoped was a menacing smile.

Someone from another cell said, "Booth?" But Booth didn't look back.

He took Hodgins to a windowless room and locked the door behind them. The room held nothing but a chair with restraints attached to it. Hodgins shrank back momentarily, as if expecting Booth to actually chain him to it.

"Did you see," Hodgins asked, "who else was in there? I was locked in a cell next to Fisher and Zack! And they're both nuts, man. I mean completely crazy. They said—they said they were accused of being traitors to the Jeffersonian, and that they're going to be executed… by Brennan."

Booth leaned against the wall, his brain working overtime. Quickly he told Hodgins what he had encountered upstairs.

The bug guy was shaking his head. "You know what this is? It's—an alternate universe. That's the only rational explanation, except for the fact it's completely not rational. You know there's this theory, that for every choice we make, or every potential outcome, like flipping a coin—we only see one result. But each time, it's like another universe splits off where those different outcomes actually happened. And—"

"Hodgins, slow down."

But he didn't. He kept striding around the tiny room. "We've got to get back. We've got to find that mirror—like right now. Do you think anyone else knows about it? Do you—"

"The place is crawling with guards," Booth said. "We can't go now. We'll wait until later, when most people are asleep, and then we'll get back."

"That's it?" Hodgins stopped pacing. "That's your plan? Just wait and try to stay alive until nightfall? What are we supposed to do in the meantime? And…" He looked curious despite himself. "What's the deal with this party tonight?"

"Well…" Booth took something out of his pocket and gave it to Hodgins.

"What's this?"

"Brennan's business card. I took it from her desk when she wasn't looking."

Hodgins stared at it, just as Booth had done the first time. Then he started to laugh hysterically. Brennan's name and title looked the same, but instead of the Jeffersonian logo, it said, The House of Reason: Forensics Lab and Museum by day. House of Pleasure by night.

"So," Hodgins flailed, "so… we just play along and try not to get executed?"

"Yep." Booth clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the basic idea. And, you never know…" He thought of Bones' leather-clad form. "Could be fun."

"You're not the one locked up here!"

"I won't let them kill you, okay?"

"Why am I not more reassured?" Hodgins ran desperate fingers through his hair. "Hey—am I supposed to do some screaming now, because you're interrogating me?"

"That's not a bad idea. Even though, Bones… The way she said interrogate, I got the sense it was just for show. She, uh… She might be saving you for Angela."

Hodgins' head jerked around. "What does that mean?"

That evening, they found out.

-.-.-.-.

The lab was transformed. Strings of lights draped the walls, while the open area glowed like a lavish, intimate den.

Booth stood in the doorway of Brennan's office, trying to take it all in. People drifted around the room, talking, laughing, and sampling wine and delicacies from strategically placed trays. Music piped from hidden speakers, and there was a clear space at the very back of the room for dancing, although no one was doing that yet.

The guests were more interested in mingling, and arguing. Booth had already heard two disagreements break out, about politics or imagined insults, but the people involved had ended up laughing it off. None of the uniformed guards stationed around the building had had to step in. But Booth got the sense, from people's eager expressions, that heated arguments were all part of the entertainment.

Now he noticed another open space near the front of the lab platform and main entrance. That corner did not have any seating or decorative items. Nothing but some ominous hooks set into the wall, near a wooden column that looked suspiciously like a whipping post.

Brennan must have seen him looking in that direction, as she joined him in the doorway. Her voice came low and sultry. "Are you ready for some executions tonight?"

"Who's going to be carrying them out?" Booth made it sound like a joke, while realizing he might need a better plan for saving Hodgins' life.

She laughed. "Me, of course. I am the head of this institution."

Then she moved behind him and slid her arms around his waist, in a sure, confident way that gave him a very good idea of just how close their relationship was.

"Are you sure you don't want to change out of your undercover clothes?"

Booth wasn't sure he wanted to know what his alter ego would wear in this situation. And he was trying to keep his mind off her hands, resting just above his belt. "Nah, I'm fine." He slipped free of her grasp and turned with an arrogant smile. "As long as you think I look good."

Her lips curved. "Don't I always? But here, at least straighten the tie." She reached up to adjust the knot at his neck. She had taken her hair down from its ponytail, so its dark brown-with-blue-highlights cascaded over her leather-clad shoulders.

To distract himself, Booth asked if she was going to change. Bones gave him an odd look and said, like it should have been obvious, "Not until after the punishments."

Then she looked out at the crowd. "Not everyone's here yet, but it already looks like a good turn-out. And that's good for business. More patrons, more fees and donations…" She put one hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. "We could buy some new toys, or even get new pleasure rooms downstairs."

Booth tried to make his eyes glint in an appropriate way, and hazarded, "For them, or for us?"

She laughed. "Both."

A moment later, a flurry of voices greeted the arrival of more guests. Brennan's face lit up, and she raised her hands to smooth her hair. "Angela," she said, before hurrying out into the main room.

A couple had just come through the lab's sliding glass doors, accompanied by unobtrusive guards. Angela walked in on the arm of a very tall, muscular man. Booth realized it was her Fiji-fling husband, Grayson. But he didn't look like a fling now. He wore a smart three-piece suit, and the expression of a man who knew he was with the most attractive woman in the room. Which, Booth thought, he nearly was.

Angela had her hair piled on top of her head and was dressed in a gauzy, midnight blue ball gown, with a white fur stole around her shoulders. She and Grayson smiled faintly at the crowd's oohs and cheers. They smiled with the lazy, dangerous confidence that comes from money and power, and the willingness to do anything to protect it.

With Booth shadowing her, uncertain of his role, Brennan walked up to meet the elegant couple. She stopped a few feet away, while Angela regarded her with smoky, mysterious eyes. Brennan gave an elegant bow that looked like it came from an old movie. (Except, of course, for the black leather. Booth, behind her, could swear he heard it creak enticingly as it stretched taut over her ass.)

When Bones straightened, Grayson inclined his head graciously, while Angela made a brief curtsy in return. Then the two women stepped forward, took each other's hands, and kissed. Not the quick cheek kiss of friends, but a slow, hot melding of lips. There in the middle of the room, in front of a hundred people.

Booth's jaw dropped, and he realized exactly what kind of relationship they used to—or still did—have. The crowd definitely approved of this display, judging by the murmurs and whistles. Brennan's hands had found their way to the shimmery fabric on Angela's hips, while her hands rested on Bren's shoulders.

Too bad Hodgins isn't here to see this, Booth thought. He had a feeling the guy would be turned on, rather than jealous. Grayson, meanwhile, had narrowed his eyes in a way that looked appreciative, not angry.

The women took their time, with that slow, sweet tangle of lips. When they finally drew back, eyes sparkling at each other, Angela reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Brennan's ear, and the tenderness of it made Booth a little jealous.

Then they turned to face the exuberant crowd. Angela looked the guests over with amusement, and said, "Let's get this party started!"