All language subtitles for Bones (2005) - S05E07 - The Dwarf in the Dirt (1080p x265 EDGE2020).eng

Hey. Booth, right?

Huh?You're a legendary shot, man.

I'm Carson.I'm concentrating.

Heard you could shoot
a hole through the middle
of a dime on the run.

[ Motor Whirring ]

Excuse me.

Obviously
got the wrong guy.

Aw, great.
I was worried
you'd be gone.

- Uh, almost gone.
- Well, almost is almost.

If I ask you a question,
can you answer it
in plain language?

Yeah, I'll do my best.

Great. So, um--

[ Chuckles ]
Okay, what's our deal?

- Our deal?
- Yeah, yeah.
W-W-What are you?

F.B.I. shrink? Friend?
Objective observer?

Oh-Oh-Oh. You wanna know
my primary role.

Okay, well, that depends
upon a number of factors.

Sweets. Plain language.

The F.B.I. hires me
to evaluate agents.
You're an agent.

- So F.B.I. first, me second?
- No, Agent Booth,
that's not what I meant.

[ Cell Phone Ringing ]It's okay. I get it.

Please. Let me finish.You just called me
Agent Booth.

That says it all, Dr. Sweets.
I learned the importance
of vocabulary choices from you.

- I gotta go catch a murderer.
- Booth.

[ People Chattering ]

Why aren't you cracking wise?Why? Because
it's not 1945.

Well, shall I
start making jokes?

Just let it flow naturally,
okay, Bones?

I've noticed in the past
when you're grumpy,

your mood tends to elevate
when you tell me about it.

Just had a bad day
on the range.Is that a cowboy metaphor?

No. I just--
Look, next week, I have to
recertify as a marksman...

and I-- I don't know
if I'm gonna make the grade.

Well, obviously
you need more practice.

Maybe this is all
because of my brain tumor.

Highly unlikely, given that
aiming a firearm involves your
cerebellum and occipital lobe,

while your brain tumor
is temporoparietal.

Perhaps you should
speak to Sweets.

Meaning what--
this is psychological?

- No. I can't talk to Sweets.
- Why not?

Why? Because he works
for the F.B.I.

He's gonna go tell the Bureau
I'm all loopety-doopety-doopy.
I can't have that.

Sinkhole?No, thanks. I already got one.
That's it there. Big sucker.

Let's not
do that right now,
Officer Navarro.

All business. F.B.I.
Gotcha.

Road collapsed
about 4:00 a.m.
Broken water main.

Took a car down with it,
but nobody got hurt.
It's mostly pumped out now.

[ Brennan ]
Then why are we here?

Because you're
the bones people, right?
We've got bones.

Oh, they're... green.

- That isvery interesting.
- Be careful, Bones.

- They don't look right,
you ask me.
- Why? Because they look green?

Get closer. That's not all
that's wrong with 'em.

Definitely human.
The evidence down here has been
totally compromised by water.

- Is it a kid?
- You mean because of
the small stature? No.

Dentition indicates
late 20s, male.

- Why is he green?
- Well, that's not really
our highest priority.

W-Wait. How can being green
not be a priority, Bones?

Oh. Gold coin.

- Look at that, Bones. Hey!
- Oh. What happened?

Water main break.
Got another water main
break down here.

Well, look at that, Bones.
You are at the end
of a beautiful rainbow.

Where I am is at
the bottom of a muddy pit. Okay, think about it.

End of a rainbow,
little green guy, gold coins.

What does that tell you?

That I need an umbrella
and that the remains
are horribly compromised.

Tells me leprechaun.

Are you praying?

- I'm making a wish.
- Same thing really.

Rather than counting
on superstition to make you
shoot more accurately,

you should
just practice more.

Thanks. Okay.

Why don't we just get
Darby O'Gill there
out of the pit...

and back to the lab,
all right?

Somebody shut the water off!

[ Man ]
Let's go! Shut it off!

Leprechauns
are thought to explode...

if you touch them
with a broom handle.

"A": These remains
show no signs of
being exploded.

And "B"-- I think
you can guess "B."

There are
no such things
as leprechauns.

This is good.
We're developing
a shorthand.

The large skull and torso...

combined with short limbs
and evidence of hypotonia...

points to achondroplasia.

- Dwarfism.
- Indeed.

I think I know why
our victim's bones are green.

The soil is lousy
with iron oxides.

That, combined with the acidic
groundwater, turned the calcium
in the bones green.

- How long would that take?
- It depends.

- How far down into the bone
does the green color extend?
- Two to three millimeters.

I'm gonna go with
two to five months.

So we have time of death,
if not cause.

Most of the abrasions to these
bones were caused very recently.

Well, a car fell
on the remains last night.
That's gonna be a factor.

The question is,
how did our leprechaun...

end up buried 20 feet
under the street...

wearing only his knickers?

Most likely scenario
is that he was murdered
and tossed in a storm drain,

service tunnel or sewer.

A 60% subluxation between
the scapula and the humerus...

indicates that
his right shoulder
was dislocated.

Congruent
with having been dragged?

As a literal
dead weight, yes.

Firing! Two branzino,
one duck, one rib eye rare!

Oh, and one of the branzinos
is without potato.

It's the customer's loss,
the vile bag of gob slobber.

- You prefer this to psychiatry?
- Agent Booth!

Yes! Yes, I do, as a matter of
fact. Yes. Well, it's the smell.

Plus, let's face it,
Chef Gordon Gordon Wyatt
has more of a ring to it...

than Dr. Gordon Gordon Wyatt.

- What do you think?
- [ Inhales ]

- Wow! That's amazing.
- Isn't it? Isn't it?

-What do I owe this pleasure to?
-Well, listen, I--

Be careful with
those morels, Edith.
They're $60 a pound!

Sorry, Chef.Chef, I need some advice.

I can advise you
on how to cook an omelet...

or how to sous videa pork chop
if you want. [ Man ] Can I go, Chef?

Yeah, go with those.No, I need
some shrinky advice.

I stopped being a psychiatrist
some time ago, as you know.

Firing! Three halibut,
two shepherd's pie,
one rack of lamb!

Is it something to do
with the jumbling your poor
boggled noggin got last year?

That's what
I'd like to know.

My brain expertise these days
is confined to preparing...

a superb sautéed cerveaux
au beurre noir,I'm afraid.

Maybe you could just pretend
I'm a recipe that needs fixing.Go!

Tell you what.Wow. Okay.

Take that and that.
Go over to that table.Yeah.

Chef's table,
somebody, please.

Prepare. Thank you.What about this?

- If I eat this,
it's gonna cure me?
- Heavens, no.

But it'll give you something
to do until my break. Right.

Somebody, service over here.
Thank you.

The victim was struck
in his face.

At the nasal
and the zygomatic.

At worst, a blow like this would
knock the victim unconscious.

Good find, Mr. Nigel-Murray,
but not cause of death.

I've cataloged a large number
of remodeled fractures...

along the ribs,

plus bilateral flattening
of the proximal radii.

Enhanced muscle attachments
here and here...

indicate the victim
was very strong.

I'd assume that was to
compensate for his condition.

What if his strength wasn't
compensation for his condition,

but led to
all of these injuries?

A super-strong dwarf,

such as might be found
in The Lord of the Rings.

The victim has all of
the occupational markers
of a wrestler.

Oh, a midget wrestler.

"Midget" is not the proper term.
As a scientist,
you should be aware.

It may not be
the proper term,
Dr. Brennan,

but I can assure you,
correct or not,

midget wrestling
is an American pastime.

As wrong as that may be.

[ Angela ] I'm trying to match
the physical characteristics
of our leprechaun...

to any professional wrestlers
on the wrestling circuit.

Wrestling is popular
in many cultures.

It was the supreme contest
in ancient Greek games.

Well, those were mostly
beautiful boys wrestling around
all oiled up and naked.

That could be our victim.

The muscle development
appears consistent.

The distinct curvature
of the femur is undeniable.

Then it seems
our leading contender...

is the Iron Leprechaun.

So it was a leprechaun
after all.Well, that's him.

But I'm fairly certain
that Iron Leprechaun
is not his actual name,

but only his
wrestling moniker.

Thank you.

Oh, no. This says
that he's wrestling tonight.

That would mean that I was wrong
about him being the victim.

Believe me, I'm as
surprised about it as you are.

But perhaps this Iron Leprechaun
will be aware of someone else...

who looked exactly
like him disappearing.

[ Sighs ]

I could spend
the rest of my life analyzing
the contents of that sinkhole.

Yeah, let's notdo that.
Start with the coins.

All right. Well, uh, Brennan
found a Chinese Panda
right beside the body.

Now within three meters,
I found four Krugerrands,
a French Rooster franc,

a gold Indian Head
and a Canadian Maple Leaf.

Worth a lot?Well,
the Rooster alone--

Hey, thank you, Sandy--
is worth about 400 bucks.

Are any of these coins
traceable?No.

There's a hefty market in it
for people who are afraid
the economy will crash,

but it's not like
they carry serial numbers.

What about the gun?It's a .22-caliber
Ruger Mark III.

Rusted beyond all belief.
It's loaded and unfired.

It could belong to our victim,
or it could've been tossed
in the sewer 20 years ago.

Let me know if you find
something special.

So you failed to execute
a simple plumbing repair.
Big whoop.

I had to get one
of those "Dummy" books.

This is delicious.
I mean, it was-- it was great.
You're-- You're a good cook.

You say you forgot about your
rather distinctive belt buckle?Yeah. Bones had to remind me.

Well, none of these adjustments
strike me as being particularly
earth-shattering.

Ah, you haven't gotten to
the juicy bit yet, have you?

Oh, I see. You've suddenly
become an indiscriminate
homicidal maniac.

Well, that is a cause
for concern.

What it means is that
I'm a lousy shot, and
I have to recertify next week.

I don't know
what you expect me
to do about it.

The only time I've ever
fired a weapon, it reared up
and struck me on the forehead.

I just need you
to help me fire my gun.

That sounds
desperately phallic.

Is this maybe
a sexual problem?

Don't say that. Don't even
put that out in the air.

It would explain
your reticence.

And why haven't you gone
to see the estimable
Dr. Sweets for help?

'‘Cause I can't go to him.
He works for the F.B.I. Right?

You're Gordon Gordon.
Come on. Help me out.

All right. I'll tag along
and I'll see what I think.

No, no, no. I thought maybe
you could just hypnotize me,
give me one of those blue pills.

One quibble.

It's "chef," not "cook."
Chef. All right?

It may seem rather
a picayune detail to you,
but it's quite meaningful to me.

Okay.

[ Crowd Cheering,
Shouting ]

Did Booth tell you
about the plumbing?

And the socks
and the belt buckle
and the shooting, yes.

Anything else
you noticed?Why are you asking Bones?

Well, she spends more time
with you than anyone else.

I think that if Booth
wants to be a better shot,
he should just practice more.

[ Man ]
Come on, Bumblebee!
Come on, man!

- [ Grunts ]
- Ooh.

- [ Shouts ]
- Ooh!

I-- I'm nearly certain
that is our victim.

What, the Bumblebee fellow
or the elf?

[ Booth ] The leprechaun.
It's obviously the leprechaun.

Bones, you wanna go up
and tell the poor guy
he's dead, or shall I?

-He does look a bit vigorous for
a dead leprechaun, doesn't he?
-That's not him.

What do you mean?
You said that was him.No. That'shim, in the poster.

[ Booth ]
Oh.That's not.

His forehead--
the frontal bossing
is far too prominent.

- Boo! That man is not
the Iron Leprechaun!
- What?

Boo! Fake! Fake!Bones,
what are you doing?

Booing is the appropriate way
to show displeasure
at a sporting event.

- Fraud! Look at his femurs!
- Shut up!

- One cannot deny the femurs.
- Yeah, you can't.

One, two, three!
Bumblebee-- winner!

[ Bell Clanging ] [ Cheering, Shouting Continue ]

[ Ring Announcer ]
Ladies and gentlemen!
Ladies and gentlemen,

tonight's winner,
at 4 foot 4, 122 pounds--

- Bumblebee Man!
- [ Crowd Cheering ]

Let me handle this.

- Excuse me, pal. F.B.I.
I wanna have a word with you.
- F.B.I.?

Oh, no!

Oh, now I gotta go
and get this guy?
Come on. Here we go.

No, no, no, no. Whoa, whoa.
You really don't wanna be--Come on!

Come here!doing that.

- Booth? Are you okay?
- What? I'm fine, okay?

I'll get the guy out of the
ring, and I'll talk to him.
What-- Are you kidding me?

- Booth, are you okay?
Do you need help?
- I don't need help. I'm fine.

Will you just get off my back?
I'm really starting
to lose my patience.

- Ooh!
- [ Crowd Gasping, Booing ]

- Look, sorry, I just--
- Come here-- [ Groans ]

[ Crowd Continues Booing ]

What do you expect me to do?
He came at me like
a rabid ferret.

[ Raspberry ]You suck!

What was I
supposed to do?

- Dr. Sweets.
- Dr. Gordon Gordon Wyatt.

Well, ChefGordon Gordon Wyatt,
as a matter of fact.

So, observing your prey
before heading on in
to interrogate him, are you?

Yeah. Agent Booth
has had me conduct more
interrogations lately.

That's, uh, quite
the vote of confidence.

I know why you're here.

Agent Booth left my office
and immediately went to you,
didn't he?

No, I'm all right
with it.

There have been
a few changes in Booth.

Since the brain tumor?Yeah. Is that why
he came to you?

He doesn't trust me?
Oh, right. How could I forget
about cook-client privilege?

Chef-client privileges.

Has he also told you about how
now when he climbs stairs...

he leads with his right foot
rather than his left?

He holds his phone
to a different ear,
coffee in his left hand.

How wretchedly
observant of you.

Not me. Dr. Brennan.

Would you like
to accompany me?

To what end?Double-teamed by
a psychologist and a chef?

It'll be epic.

My name's Todd Moore.

Then who's this?The Iron Leprechaun.

How many Iron Leprechauns
are there?

Just one-- at a time, I mean.
I took over when the last
Iron Leprechaun took a powder.

- When was that?
- About three months ago.

- What's this one's name?
- That's Bryce DaFonte.

Well, I'm sorry to say,
your predecessor
is now deceased.

- We found his body
at the bottom of a sinkhole.
- Bryce is dead?

Aw, man.
Well, that totally explains
why he'd bail on a sweet gig.

Being Iron Leprechaun
is a sweet gig, is it?

[ Chuckles ]
Yeah. It's a very
popular character.

Oh, you two think
I killed Bryce,

tossed him into a sinkhole
so I could take over
the franchise?

Well, I was there when
Agent Booth identified himself
as F.B.I. and you ran.

Running away from the F.B.I.
is always suspicious.

[ Thumps Table ]I'm Canadian.

My work visa
expired a week ago.

I thought you were gonna
ship me back to Sudbury.
Have you ever been to Sudbury?

You woulda ran too.

Do you know anyone who would
benefit from Bryce's death?

Gidget, I guess. She's like
the Vince McMahon of our world.

How would this Gidget benefit
from losing her biggest star?

Well, when Bryce
was the Iron Leprechaun,

she used to have to pay him
a piece of the gate.

Me? Flat rate--
300 bucks a pop.

I'll tell you
something else too.
They used to bump uglies.

And it didn't end so great.

[ Footsteps On Stairs ]

Somebody murdered Bryce?

Well, your number one draw
disappears,

you had to have
had a theory.

I just figured he couldn't
handle what happened
between us anymore.

Murdered how?Here you go, Gidget.

- W-What happened between you?
- Come on. We had a thing.

It got old.
I moved on.

Thought at first Bryce did, too,
but it ate at him.

Guys are like that, you know.
On the outside, it looks like
they don't care.

But on the inside, they're
chewing themselves up
like cancer.

I gotta be a suspect, right?

We don't like
to come right out
and say that.

- Well, I know I am,
'‘cause Bryce was suing me.
- What was he suing you for?

A bigger cut of the gate.
I didn't take it personal.
Maybe he did.

You know men.
Something goes wrong
in the heart department,

it always shows itself
in another way.

You know Bryce
had a criminal past, right?

Yeah. He went to prison
for assault during a robbery.

What can I say?
Got a thing
for the bad boys.

- Don't you?
- No.

- I prefer good boys.
- Really?

- Yes.
- Yeah.

So, you-- Do you know
if Bryce DaFonte owned a gun?

Of course not.
He was on parole.
Tell you something though.

I had a sweet little pistol
came up missing right about
the same time.

Ah, thank you.

Do you know,
there is something about
an American diner griddle...

that turns out eggs that rival
even the greatest boîte du
dejeunerin all of Paris.

So, you've really
done it, huh?

Turned your back
on psychiatry to cook.

Well, there's more than one way
to feed people, you know.

You're irked, aren't you?

Oh, no.
It's just--

You gotta admit,
all that experience
and knowledge and wisdom...

trapped in a kitchen?

It's crazy.

I would suggest that what
really chuffs your eggs...

is that, in his hour of need,
Booth turned to me for advice
instead of you.

But Booth couldn't go to see you
because your first duty
is to the F.B.I.

Well, he should trust me.

He does trust you implicitly.Obviously not.

He came to you, right?
A chef.

But the point is,
he would never do anything...

that would compromise
your professional obligations.

He's too fond of you
for that.

Did he say that
out loud?

He came to me knowing
that I would consult with you.

Which is what I'd like
to do now, please.

In short, he believes
that his brain condition...

has rendered him incapable
of hitting the broad side
of a barn with his firearm.

That must really
drive him up the wall.

Exactly.

So, I look forward
to consulting with you...

on the strange case
of the man hereinafter
referred to as Agent B.

Yes. You know what I said
about the eggs?Mmm?

It doesn't extend
to the potatoes.

Oh, God.

Frozen.

Positive identification
on the victim.

Bryce DaFonte.

[ Vincent ]
That's a mug shot.

There you go.

Apparently, Mr. DaFonte
was somewhat violent...

before channeling
his aggression
more productively.

By pretending
to be a vicious,
head-cracking leprechaun.

Indeed.
Mm-hmm.

- [ Signing Paper ]
- Thanks.

[ Saroyan ]
What are you doing?

In searching for cause of death,
I found three small grooves...

along the margin
on three separate ribs--

number two on the right,
five and six on the left.

Not caused by being crushed
by two million pounds
of gravel and asphalt?

The nicks are deeper
than the extent
of the green patina.

Telling us that they
pre-existed the green.
Very good.

Okay.

- What else
do these nicks tell us?
- I haven't the foggiest.

Uh, were you aware...

that Marilyn Monroe
had six toes on one foot?

Keep looking,
Mr. Nigel-Murray.

Good morning, Agent B.

Hiya, Sweets.

Okay, about the other night
when I came to your office.

"Nuff said, nuff said,"
said the blind man
to the deaf man.

And in this case,
I am totally the deaf man.
Not just deaf-- mute.

You wanted me to talk
to the victim's family
with you?

Yeah. I got the twin brother
and the sister-in-law.
They're in the conference room.

What are we looking for?Lies and guilt, Sweets.
What else is there?

I was always worried
something bad was gonna
happen to Bryce.

I stopped worrying
when he started wrestling
professionally.

So, as far as you know,
your brother put his
criminal past behind him?

Yeah. He, uh, you know--
He loved the whole
leprechaun wrestling thing.

He quit drinking,
made a living.

You were close? We were twins, but no.

No, we weren't close.

Bryce was always
a little jealous of Derek
'‘cause Derek was average-sized.

I'd have been jealous, too,
if it worked out the other way
and I got the short stick.

- No pun intended.
- That's not funny, Agent Booth.

- I tried helping Bryce out.
You know, got him jobs.
- When did you last talk?

Mmm. When Derek offered to
testify at his parole hearing.

- Offered?
- Bryce said he didn't
need the help.

It wasn't like that at all.
The-- The whole parole thing
was a lock, with or without me.

A lock?

Bryce testified against his
cell mate in return for parole.

- I think it was brave.
- It was stupid, Nicole.

Probably got him killed.

If you don't mind me saying,
but neither one of you guys
looks like a cop.

You look like
a substitute teacher
and a fry cook.

- A fry cook?
- We're not cops. We're
professional interrogators.

- Nobody's a fry cook.
- The cops are in there.

Yes, in case you annoy us
and we want an arrest made.

Any more cracks about fry cooks,
and I'll have them come in here
to rough you up!

Okay, okay. Uh, you and
Bryce DaFonte were cell mates
for, what, 16 months?

Yeah. I'm sorry for Bryce.
I liked him.
Made the cell feel roomier.

We have information that Bryce
ratted you out so he would
look good for the parole board.

I never took that personally.

Little guy like that,
you gotta hold him
to a different standard.

You were released,
what, um, three months ago?

Paid my debt to society.
Got a job.

- Road construction.
- Yep.

- Did you ever work
in the Cleveland Park area?
- Why?

Because that's where
your former cell mate
was discovered--

20 feet
under the roadway.

Well, I didn't put him there.

Hey, look, Bryce told them
where to find my pruno
and dope stash, okay?

That's-- That's small beans.
Three days in solitary.
I'm gonna kill him for that?

All right, all right. Look.

Me and Bryce cooked
that dodge up together, okay?

There was no chance
I was getting out a day earlier
than my full sentence,

due to a spitting incident
involving the warden.

I figured, why not
do my cell mate a solid
and get him out?

And believe me,
DaFonte wanted out.

Well, everyone
in prison wants out.

Nah, not like Bryce.
He was talking about escape.
He was highly motivated.

So what was the big rush?

What you think?

- I think perhaps a crisis
of the heart and loins.
- Oh.

He got a Dear John letter
from his lady love...

saying that she was thinking
about calling it quits on him.

The least I could do
for my buddy. Wasn't nobody
waiting on me on the outside.

So my psychic says that
Brennan and Booth are linked
in a very profound way.

In order to eat that thing,
you're gonna have to dislocate
your jaw...

like an articulated python.

[ Chuckles ]Yeah.

Tell me, though,

have you noticed
any behavioral changes
in Booth...

since he woke up
from the coma?

He's not as happy-go-lucky
as he used to be.

It's like he's...
sort of sad.

Mmm.

Perhaps the brain tumor
forced him to confront
his own mortality.

Booth confronted his mortality
plenty of times.

I think that that dream he had
about him and Brennan
being married--

I think that he sort of
misses that dream.

It's like he's homesick
for that place and those people.

You think Booth...

fell in love with
Dr. Brennan during a dream.

So do you. Right?

Well, I'm a--
I'm a psychiatrist.

I'm-- I'm not comfortable
with answering.

No, you're a chef.

I am. As usual, you--
you see the truth of things.

Oh! Look, I'm sorry.
I'm really sorry.

This is the most
ill-conceived,

sapless, vomitous
gargoyle of gastronimity
I've ever encountered.

It's preposterous.
You can't--

You know, you're really gonna
have to learn to enjoy things
the way that they are.

Mmm?

Well,
perhaps you're right.

The remains were covered
with 150 years' worth of rubble.

That's a word I loathe.

[ Booth ] Half-naked
dwarf wrestler
gets killed...

and his body gets dumped
into some old hole
in the ground?

Most of what he was
buried in-- and what I found
around the remains-- was tile.

Translucent, ceramic, vitreous--
dating back to the 1920s.

- What was that--
some kind of Turkish bath?
- No, a pedestrian underpass.

Here.
It collapsed in the '30s.

They just threw
some rocks into it
and paved it over.

Wait a second.
So what you're saying is...

you think the leprechaun's body
was in that pedestrian underpass
when the sinkhole happened?

Yeah. A guy his size, there
could've been a way through it,
especially with some digging.

That would've stretched
from here underground...

to approximately
the other side of the street...

and then maybe
another 20 feet east.

"Cash for gold."

[ Officer Navarro ]
Three months ago,
this place got robbed.

No sign of forced entry
to the doors or windows.
Alarm was cut from the inside.

Bad guys got off
with bags of gold coins.

We think the robber
may have been the victim
in your sinkhole.

Well, I'll be damned.
The owners of this place
will be glad to hear that.

Fraud unit suspected
it was an inside job.

- How much they lose?
- Oh, 120 grand worth.

I think I found
the point of ingress.[ Navarro ] Whoa!

You gotta be kidding.
Just thinking about it,
I can't breathe.

Angela's sketch shows the
collapsed pedestrian walkway...

comes five feet
from this drain.

The victim was small and strong.
He could've dug his way through.

That's gotta be, what,
16, 18 inches?

Honestly, I can't breathe.
I got anxiety thinking
about a guy down there.

Bones, there's no way
the victim could get
his shoulders through there.

He-He could've made it.
Mostly naked,
in his Lycra shorts.

We may even find a container
of lubricant down there.

- Well, all we found
were eight gold coins.
- Oh, yeah.

Classic "accomplice rip-off"
scenario.

No honor between thieves.

What, I'm not allowed
to chime in?

I'm a law enforcement
professional.

The only markings
we know for sure came
from before the sinkhole...

are these three little nicks
on his ribs.

Could he have been stabbed?With what?

The world's dullest knife?

Well, perhaps
something along the lines
of a very dull hatchet.

To a little person,
a hatchet would be
the equivalent of an ax.

Assuming the accomplice
was already lying in wait,

surely he would've had
the aforethought to bring
a more suitable weapon.

Like a gun.Or a giant sword.

Or a gun.

But the killer
would've had to have been
an incredibly bad shot...

to merely graze
his or her victim...

three times
in such tight quarters.

Hmm.

Oh! Oh, I see!

If he-- If he was
reaching forward.Or wrenched.

Or if he was actually hanging
from his arm and the killer
shot down from this angle.

One bullet, fired from above,
grazing these three ribs,

deflecting,
piercing the diaphragm.

And, of course,
as an achondroplastic dwarf,

his organs would be
more tightly jammed together
than an average person.

This would be his liver.

He'd have bled to death
in minutes.

We found cause of death.

Yeah, there's
some collateral damage
to Booth's brain here.

That would result in
the memory lapses, yeah,

but it doesn't explain
any of his other symptoms.

Ah, but I don't think Booth
has brain damage.Then what's his problem?

May I ask why you didn't
publish your book
on Booth and Brennan?

What, is there
a connection between my book
and Booth's marksmanship?

I believe
you didn't publish it...

because you're afraid
of how Brennan and Booth
would react to its conclusion.

My book concludes
that Brennan and Booth
are in love with each other.

It's a scrummy conundrum,
isn't it?

I believe that, as a reaction
to the childhood traumas
of abuse and abandonment,

Dr. Brennan
utilizes her intellect
to armor herself...

from intense levels of emotion
like love.

And Booth?

Well, subconsciously, he's
sensitive to her vulnerability.

He knows that acting upon
his feelings for her would
amount to a kind of assault.

I couldn't agree
with you more.

So, Booth
not shooting straight...

is simply, what, a manifestation
of his phallic frustration?

He quite literally can't
bring his weapon to bear.

Do I even have the right
to publish my book...

and make public what these two
can't even admit to themselves?

Good Lord, don't ask me.

I'm just a chef,
not a psychiatrist.[ Groans ]

I gave up that game...

precisely so I don't have
to face that kind of dilemma.

Great.

We do know that Hodgins found
a .22 pistol near the body.
It was fully loaded.

It hadn't been discharged.Yeah, I know that, Bones.
I do work for the F.B.I.

So, has Gordon Gordon
helped you at all
with your shooting problem?

He doesn't see it as a problem.Then maybe you don't have one.

Have you ever considered
the possibility that you might
simply be getting older?

Men do tend
to decline physically
past the age of 35.

Remind me again how great
I feel after talking to you.

Well, who else would
always tell you the truth?It does make me feel better.

It makes no rational sense,
but it does.Mmm.

Maybe I should start
packing heat again.

Packing heat?Yes. It's a colloquialism.

I-I'm quite a good shot.

If the leprechaun was shot,
then where would the bullet be?

I assume somewhere
in the six tons of crap Hodgins
hasn't sifted through yet.

Wait a second.
Did you just call
forensic evidence "crap"?

It's colloquial again.
What do you think?Very nice. I like it.

It shows
that you're adapting.Well, I'm working on it.

And joshing around too.
[ Chuckles ]

Yeah.

I already admitted
that Bryce and I
had a thing.

Hey, where's that
hot F.B.I. agent guy?

If I'm gonna be interrogated,
I want it to be from him.

That sweet little pistol
you owned that went missing--
is this it?

Is that the gun that was
used to kill Bryce?

Uh, no, but it was nearby.

Then, yeah.
That's my pistol.

He didn't steal the gun
from you.

You gave it to him because you
were worried about his safety.

I'm not exactly
the worrying type.

You wanna make out
a little bit?

[ On Speaker ]
People watching from behind
that mirror kinda turns me on.

This-- This persona
she's projecting,

this little person cougar--

she's either
masking emotional pain...

or overcompensating
for guilt.

Maybe you should
tell Sweets.

Oh, believe me,
if a chef can figure it out,

then a prodigy like Sweets
would've got there long before.

[ Gidget Continues, Indistinct ]Tell me.
[ Lowers Volume ]

What's your theory
on why Agent Booth can
no longer shoot straight?

He should practice more.

B-But perhaps, in conjunction...

with his using the wrong foot
to climb the stairs...

and his wrong hand
to drink coffee,

he's closing the wrong eye
when he aims.

Real marksmen
keep both eyes open
when they shoot.

Oh. Well, that's what I get
for using Quigley Down Under
as a reference, isn't it?

So, Sweets told you about
the hands and the feet?

Mmm. We're consulting.
Patient confidentiality
is being maintained.

And I won't tell Booth that
you've been ratting him out
to the F.B.I. behind his back.

"Ratting out"
is an accurate phrase,

but somehow
it doesn't seem true.

Hmm. You've come
quite a long distance
since we last met...

if you can now see a distinction
between accuracy and the truth.

I'm trying to help Booth.
I can be objective about
his brain, and he can't.

Sometimes you have to help
people against their wishes.

I can't think of anything
I wouldn't do to help him.

Can we listen, please?Yes.

[ Sweets ]
Did you give Bryce the gun...

because you knew
he was planning a robbery?

All I knew is
Bryce told me he found a way
to make a ton of money fast.

Who was in it with him?I don't know.

I think the reason
you feel responsible is that if
you'd paid Bryce his fair share,

he wouldn't have
gotten himself killed.

Bull's-eye!
Well done.

Bryce didn't need money
to impress me.

And it wasn't me he was worried
about when he was in prison.Who was it?

All I know is that Bryce
broke it off with me.

Said he had to get serious
with somebody else.

Said I wasn't
enough woman for him.

W-Why is he looking at us?

[ Door Opens ]Jesus, it's about time,
Sweets.

What took you so long?
Don't answer that, okay?
What did he get out of her?

I have no idea,
but the two of them
are very excited.

You wanna--I wouldn't dream of it.
Please.

Okay, uh, murder victim
told Gidget that she wasn't
enough woman for him.

- So?
- So it suggests that,
while in jail,

your victim was pining for
an average-sized woman.

Vocabulary?
Thatis your evidence?

We subpoenaed the victim's
cell phone records.

The only people
he ever talked to were
Gidget and his brother.

The victim's brother said
that they were estranged.

And the victim's brother's wife
is an average-sized woman,
isn't she?

You want us to handle this?No, no.
I-I'll handle this one, boys.

[ Man Chattering ]

Why did you
bring me here?We found Bryce right there.

He was crawling
from all the way over there,

lugging his own weight
in gold coins...

through a tunnel probably
about-- oh, about that wide.

He got out.
On the other end,
he was shot and killed.

Now, why is it that somebody
would do something like that?

Greed? Bravery?

He was doing it for you,
wasn't he, Nicole?

How long were you
and Bryce seeing each other
behind your husband's back?

Since always.

Since high school.

I wrote Bryce in prison, and
I told him that we had to stop.

But when he got out on parole,
he begged me to choose him.

Got it in his head
that to get me to himself...

he had to be a better provider
than his brother.

Are you gonna
tell Derek about us?

No.

No, I'm not gonna say
anything to him.

But I will tell you
that if you've been in love
with another man for 10 years,

your husband knows.

What I need to know is,
who was helping Bryce out
with this burglary?

I don't know.

I don't know. Probably
somebody he met in prison.

He said that he would buy me
anything that I ever wanted.

If I knew Bryce was stealing,
I would've begged him to stop.

See, Ms. DaFonte, when a man
can't have the woman
that he loves,

he gets a bit crazy.

One brother,
he died for you right there.

The other one, your husband--
you put him through hell.

[ Breath Quavers ]

- I still can't find a bullet.
- Well, keep trying.

It could have been washed
anywhere by the water.

The guy's ring
was nearly 30 meters away.

High school wrestling.
Now, that has got to be
the victim's, right?

Oh, I am back.
I mean, king of the lab.
Right?

No. Not king of the lab.

- This is not the victim's ring.
- [ Sighs ]

Achondroplasia causes
metaphyseal cupping
at the joints,

resulting in large knuckles
too-- too big for this ring.

Well,
then whose ring is this?

Someone who went to the same
high school at the same time,
played the same sport,

but had
average-sized fingers.

We're good at this.Yeah, Bones.
This is what we do.

We're the best.

Mr. DaFonte,
thank you for coming in.

Yeah. Uh, so,
you got any news
on my brother?

- Do me a favor. Just put your
hand out like this, please.
- What's going on?

Mr. DaFonte, please.
Your hand. Just like this.

When your brother came out
of the tunnel, you reached out
and took his hand.

He thought the two of you were
working together, but you knew
why he wanted the money.

[ Brennan ] When you shot your
brother, the force partially
dislocated his shoulder...

while the bullet traveled
through the torso...

in a fatal trajectory,
grazing three ribs.

You pushed him back into
the tunnel, foot to face.

But he pulled off your ring.

- You're under arrest.
- [ Whispers ]
Derek. Why?

- Come on, Nikki. You know why.
You know exactly why.
- Let's go.

So, we found most
of the gold coins...

in the victim's brother's
crawl space.

I mean, most of them.
Not all of them.

The oldest murder of them all--
brother slays brother.
Cain and Abel.

Doc, tomorrow morning,
I gotta be on the firing line
at 7:00 a.m. sharp.

So you have to fix
my brain damage.

You haven't got
brain damage.

Gordon Gordon, they took out
a brain tumor the size
of a melon ball out of my head.

I can't shoot straight.
I can't tell
if people are lying.

I have to get "Dummy" books
just to do things. I'm at
a complete loss with stuff.

Not as a result
of brain damage. [ Cork Pops ]

When you were in the coma,
you got a glimpse
of another world.

Right, and how does that
help me aim my gun?

Temperance Brennan.

[ Sighs ]You're in love with her.

You're building a world
around her, a family.

We're not compatible.
She sees the world one way.
I see it the other way.

No, of course.
It's absolutely ludicrous,
the idea of you two together.

But-- [ Clicks Tongue ]
the heart chooses
what it chooses, doesn't it?

We don't really have any say
in the matter.

She doesn't love me.
I would know
if she loved me.

May I counsel patience
on this front?

Hope and patience.

All right, so,

about my marksmanship
certification-- any advice?

Grow a set!
Be a man! Step up!

She's your partner,
for heaven's sake.

The job you do together
is highly dangerous.

She counts on you
for protection,

so you damn well
better protect her.

That's your big psychiatric
advice-- just grow a set?Indeed.

When it comes
to a man and his gun,
a woman is the natural cure.

Take Dr. Brennan to this, um--
this shooting event of yours.

You won't fail in front of her.

Trust me.

Dr. Brennan.

Hello.[ Laughs ]

Please take a seat.

Oh, well, why can't we
sit out in the restaurant?

Oh, no, Bones.
This is a great honor
to sit at the chef's table.

Huge.But it's in a kitchen.
It's hot and noisy.

It's a thing, all right?
Just go with it.

So--
[ Exhales ]

Bones, um,
would you do me a favor?

Yes, as long as it does not
involve me shaving my head.

[ Laughs ]
You are making a joke.

I'm becoming quite amusing.Yes, you are.
That's very funny.

Honestly, w--
will you do me a favor?

Yes, as long as I don't
have to shave my head.

[ Chuckles ]
A little advice
on the humor.

Once the joke happens,
don't dog-pile on it.
Just let it go.

Do try these amuse-bouche.

It may look like sperm
on corn smut, but I assure you
they are magically scrumptious.

Be brave, my children.
Make a foray.

Cast off your shackles,
et cetera, et cetera.

Abide by my exhortations
to joie de vivre...

that you may be borne aloft
on the trembling wings
of giggling angels.

[ Man Singing: Alt Rock ]
♪ Lovers come and lovers go ♪

♪ Once they lived
but now they're ghosts ♪

♪ Walking the streets
they used to know ♪

♪ Like shadows ♪

♪ Like shadows ♪

♪ In this place ♪

♪ In whom can I ♪

♪ Have faith ♪

♪ How can I love ♪

♪ Without grace ♪

♪ Shine a light ♪

- ♪ On your face ♪
- Excellent, Agent Booth.

♪ If you're real ♪

♪ Then show me now ♪

♪ Who you are ♪♪

What's that mean?