A/N: This is a response to a bitesize_bones Crackfic prompt from Amilyn:

Two of the group (pick a fun pairing: Angela & Cam, Sweets & Daisy, Sweets & Brennan, Angela & Brennan, Booth & Hodgins) slip through the Quantum Mirror on display at the Jeffersonian into a mirror universe from this one (Evil!mirrorverse from Star Trek—and remember that whoever is wearing black leather is bisexual, Goa'uld-infested universe from Stargate, gender-swapped universe, go crazy!) and have to play along to figure out how to get back.

The idea just wouldn't let me go, so I am completely neglecting the story I'm supposed to be working on, Reckless, to write this crazy thing.

Rated M, to be safe, for sex and violence. Leather, executions, and smut.

-.-.-.-.

Mirror

"Are you kidding me?" Booth watched Hodgins peer down one deserted Jeffersonian corridor, then another. "We can't be lost. I thought you knew this place like the back of your hand."

"Dude, relax. The storage room is just around the—corner." Hodgins stopped, staring at a dead end.

"Nice try, bug boy."

"Hey, you have no idea where we are. What about your wilderness-tracking Ranger skills?"

"Yeah, like this is a wilderness. You want me to leave a trail of breadcrumbs?"

Hodgins brushed past him and went down another hallway.

"Tell me why we're doing this again?" Booth yelled.

"I'm doing this because it's been the most boring week at the lab, and because Angela asked me to. You're doing this because I need your help carrying some big-ass painting back from the basement storage area… that is supposed to be right here."

They were standing at another dead end, with old curtained exhibits on either side of the hallway.

"So what is back here?" Booth grabbed the edge of one heavy curtain, and pulled it back. It was a recessed display area, filled with about ten framed mirrors. They varied in size, from a few inches, to one that was as tall as Booth. Most were dirty or tarnished, and one was cracked.

Hodgins came closer, gazing over the selection of mirrors. "This is kind of cool. I wonder what time period they're from. There's no info card…"

"Look, Hodgins, I really have better things to do than…" But the largest mirror had caught Booth's eye. It was a very tall oval, framed by a textured gilt frame. And its entire surface was dark. Not dirty; it simply didn't reflect light. Maybe if I stand at a different angle, Booth thought, and went closer. No… This was creepy. He couldn't see his reflection at all. He saw something…

He leaned a bit closer. But suddenly there was a roaring in his ears, and it felt like he was falling in slow motion. His arms flailed, trying to regain his balance, and he winced in anticipation of smacking into the mirror. But instead, he sank right through, as if through a sheet of water. Desperately, Booth threw his arm out and managed to grab hold of Hodgins. But it was too late. They both tumbled through the mirror, into a swirling vortex that spun them around and stole the air from their lungs, before dumping them into a heap on the floor.

Grunting, they pulled themselves to their feet. They were not crunched into a dusty corner of the exhibit. They were standing in the hallway again. But the hallway was… different. It seemed darker. And the floor tiles looked like expensive stone. Booth wasn't sure what they were supposed to be made of, but it wasn't this.

Hodgins was dusting off the sleeves of his shirt. "Dude…" he said slowly. "Did that really happen?"

The hairs on the back of Booth's neck were standing up, his sniper senses on high alert. But he shook himself and said, "Let's just find that painting and get out of here."

They hadn't gone ten paces before Booth heard people approaching from around a corner. He slowed, and Wendall appeared, flanked by two security guards Booth didn't recognize. All three men wore the same uniform. A strange one: dark blue like the Jeffersonian lab coats, but much more military.

"Booth," Wendall said, "what are you doing down here? And—" As soon as he saw Hodgins, he barked, "Grab him!" The two other men lunged for Hodgins and held him firmly by the arms.

"What the hell?" Hodgins looked between him and Booth, as if waiting for someone to admit a practical joke. "And what's with the hair, man?" He was looking at Wendall's hair, which was slicked back like he'd been playing a greaser on The Outsiders.

One of the guards jerked Hodgins' arm and said to Booth, "You want to start with him in one of the interrogation rooms?"

Wendall answered instead. "Later. We should report to Brennan first. Put him in with the others." And with a tilt of the head that meant Booth should accompany him, he turned back down the hall.

The guards were bustling Hodgins away, and he shot Booth a desperate look over his shoulder. Booth had just taken note of the types of weapons these men were carrying, and knew this was no joke. Quickly he felt for his own gun at his hip, and breathed a sigh of relief to find it still there. But he couldn't let Hodgins go without a word. "Don't worry," Booth told him. "I'll be back."

Both guards laughed at his, in a way that made Booth cold.

"You gonna tell me how you found him?" Wendall asked. Booth decided that his best poker face was the way to go, and after a second Wendall said, "Right. You can't tell me."

They went back up to the main level, and at first Booth was reassured by the familiar-looking lab platform and squints in blue coats. He and Wendall went up the steps, past two more guards.

Brennan was standing by a table at the far end, with a couple other science people Booth didn't know. They were examining a body, shriveled flesh and bone.

"No," Brennan was saying, "that's not good enough. They can see through that with isotopic analysis. We'll have to contaminate the remains more thoroughly. I suggest…" She looked up, then, at the two men's arrival, and gave Booth a distinctly wolfish smile.

He tried not to do a double take when he saw her hairstyle. It was a darker brown than he'd ever seen it, and had two stripes of color on one side. Thin blue-green streaks went from her temples over her ear and down to the end of her ponytail.

"I suggest we use the DNA database," she was saying. "We might not have ideal samples to plant on this victim…" She glanced up at Booth. "And I'll need to consult with my colleagues about who best to frame for the murder. But in the meantime…" Brennan wrote some names and dates on a piece of paper and gave it to one of the assistants. "Go down there and see what you can find," she instructed. "I admit, this one might be more challenging. But remember: we're the best. We can make the evidence say whatever we want it to say."

With that, she peeled off her gloves and tossed them carelessly on the ground. "Gentlemen." She turned to Booth and Wendall. "My office."

As they walked across the room, Booth took surreptitious glances around the building. It was definitely not the Jeffersonian he knew. There seemed to be fewer offices and lab rooms, in favor of this large open space surrounding the lab platform. A space that looked like an extravagant lounge. Comfortable chairs were placed next to tables, leafy plants shaded couches, and a few small statues decorated alcoves.

They reached Bones' office. The room didn't look dramatically different, but Booth had to catch his breath. Because when Brennan took off her lab coat, he saw what he should have noticed right away: she wore a white tank top and black leather pants. Black leather, that clung to every curve. And she had a gun strapped to her thigh. Hanging up the lab coat, she slid her arms into the sleeves of a jacket. A matching, very well-fitting leather jacket, which she zipped up halfway.

Then Bones took a seat behind her desk, while Wendall, and a dazed Booth, stood across from it. "I assume there's news?" Brennan leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on the desk with a clunk. Booth struggled to keep his face impassive. She crossed her ankles and rested her boots—black leather boots—right on some important-looking papers.

"We've got someone new in our dungeon," Wendall said. "Booth here has just brought in Hodgins."

Despite her lazy posture, she was watching the men with sharp eyes. "Have you?" she drawled. Her eyes softened a fraction, when she looked at Booth.

"Was there any… trouble?"

"Uh… Not much, no."

"Good." She smiled. "You know you have impeccable timing. Angela's coming tonight; we can deal with Hodgins then. Maybe the others, too. I think they've been here long enough, don't you?" Wendall nodded with an evil glint in his eye, and Booth tried to imitate him.

"So our goal here is the same as last time," Wendall said with satisfaction. "And the conclusion that our evidence should point to…"

"Is to show the corruption in Caroline's regime," Brennan said, "and to undermine some of the people she most relies on. If we make it look like she doesn't care about the citizens she's ruling, and she just kills people who disagree with her…"

"Which is basically the truth," Wendall added.

"Well, that makes Angela all the more appealing in comparison. Because she's more interested in making people happy, with cake and circuses."

Booth finally found his voice. "I think you mean bread and circuses, Bones."

She gave him a sly smile. "Right. Because you taught me this, after all. He's always saying," she told Wendall, "evidence is only part of the story. If we want to stage a coup, we have to win people's opinion. And the way to do that is through manipulation and reward."

"Tonight's party being some of the reward, right?" Wendall winked at both of them.

Brennan turned to Booth. "My partner in crime..." Her eyes sparkled in a way that would have been exhilarating, if he hadn't felt so off balance. "I think it's time you went to interrogate Hodgins."

-.-.-.-.

A/N: More to come.