Title: Here Is Gone

Rating: T for language and some violence

Summary: Everything she thought she knew was about to change. Brennan wakes from a two-year coma, and something is very wrong about that.

Disclaimer: If I owned Bones, they'd all be dead by now.

AN: Please read and review, they let me know people are actually reading :) For those reading Far Away From Home, more updates on the horizon.

Chapter One: What She Could Have Had…

The Jeffersonian's medico-legal lab walls reverberated, crashes on the roof echoed deafeningly, and a thin layer of plaster dust coated just about everything within a three hundred foot radius of construction…which included the entire area of the lab since the skylights were getting a makeover. And this made one very angry Temperance Brennan.

"Do not knock the tarp, the construction debris will contaminate the evidence," Brennan barked to everyone around her. The thin blue tarp covering the platform and the scientists was not high enough, causing everybody but Hodgins to bend forward. Already, after half an hour, backs were starting to ache and necks were beginning to strain. Hodgins looked at his colleagues and friends, offering a small grin before commenting, "For once, I don't mind looking up at the world."

He received death glares.

Angela offered gently, "Bren…we were given the day off so we wouldn't have to work in this. We can come back tomorrow and continue on the case--"

"People are killed everyday, I'm sure they'll appreciate us not stopping because we have to deal with a building's makeover," Brennan muttered. Angela threw a look at Zach, and he shrugged his shoulders. Because he was already bent forward, the final result made him resemble a turtle. Brennan wordlessly examined the skull of the third John Doe. Two charred bodies were set off to the side, waiting for Brennan's inspection.

There were five more in the morgue.

Brennan's discontent and anger were caused by numerous things. Her article on Ancient Native American burial rites for National Geographic was pulled at the last minute and replaced with four pages of advertisements, the current construction was taking longer than expected, and the grand finale reason that turned Brennan into a ball of nerves was the fact she was staring at the skeletal corpse of a child no older than nine. Within the span of four days, eight children were ruthlessly beaten, stabbed, and burned. Word had spread to the press that one of the worst serial killings in D.C. history was occurring. Day and night, reporters stalked her apartment waiting for comments and updates.

And Brennan wasn't finding any evidence to point to a suspect. Which meant the news crews weren't going to be satisfied, and the killer was still on the loose. As she suspected, in the next few days the Jeffersonian's team and Booth would be berated for working too slowly, making them the so-called 'bad guys' for the public. She couldn't handle any more stress. And she was getting to the point where she couldn't handle identifying another child today.

Normally, she was able to push away the personal aspects of a case. Keep it clinical, don't let emotions rule judgment, she often told herself this and to the assistants that came her way. It made their gruesome job of giving the dead a name easier. Brennan of all people would know how much this seemingly cold approach worked, after examining victims of 9/11, Waco, and mass graves in Guatemala and El Salvador. Even though she didn't want children, kids always made the cases harder.

That's not the only thing making you miserable…Brennan closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to block what she feared was the truth. In the pit of her stomach, something made her reluctant to come to work. Everyday, it had been more difficult to stare at mutilated bodies, to temporarily forget the bones she held in her hands were once human beings. She began harboring thoughts, ideas that caused her to doubt what she was doing. Like she had said, people were killed everyday. Was she really making a difference? Human beings did such horrid things to another, and that was something that would never change. Death was her career, and the resilience to know nothing but death and horror was starting to wear away.

She was burning out. And it seemed like it was happening faster with every passing day.

Brennan squinted, trying to concentrate. Above her, a stack of new glass windows toppled over on the roof, causing a shattering and sudden crash. Brennan jumped and swore, "Damn it!" The others cringed and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Excuse me," Brennan muttered. She stepped from under the tarp, suddenly craving fresh air and the need to calm down. Ahead of her the doors opened, and in walked a familiar face. Brennan groaned inwardly as Booth's eyes met hers. He looked worn and haggard, and Brennan knew cases with children struck an inner chord with him. Normally, at a time like this he'd vent to her and she'd try to understand what he was going through. It strengthened their friendship. Right now, though, she needed to get away from anything brooding, corpses, and the racket of construction. She pushed past him wordlessly, offering him an apologetic look. Booth clutched a file in his hand, and before he could protest, Angela coughed loudly from the platform. Sensing the need to leave Brennan alone, he sought answers from Angela.

"What was that about?" His voice, Angela noted, was less tight than previous days. She looked at the file in his hands and asked, "Please tell me that's a lead."

Without missing a beat, Booth answered, "Possibly, but what's wrong with Bones? I wanted to cheer her up with this."

Angela sighed, a pang of concern for her best friend. "She's been having a hard time lately, doing…" she gestured around her and finished softly, "this."

Hodgins joined Angela and added, "Brennan's having the type of bad day you had when you shot the clown head."

Booth threw his hands up and retorted, "Whoa, hold on. It wasn't the day that caused that, it was two years of working with the Squint Squad."

A few tight smiles were produced from the group. Booth shifted his weight from foot to foot, and decided, "I think I should go talk to her, see what's up."

Zach called from behind him, "I thought you valued your life, Agent Booth."

Booth paused and thought that over. For once he agreed with Zach.

Brennan couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her heart had leapt to her throat when she saw his face, and slammed back down to her feet when she witnessed his next action. Her mouth gaped uselessly as she watched from a distance the heartbreaking scene that played out before her.

Sully got out of the car, went to the passenger side, and passionately kissed the leggy blonde female in that seat. He himself was tanned, his muscles toned from long hours in the tropical sun. He looked so happy, even though he wasn't due back for another six months. Brennan's mind flashed back to the day Sully asked her to come sail away with him. He had encouraged her to get away from the cold face of death, the bodies, and she had refused. It had been undoubtedly the hardest thing she ever had to decide. That could have been her in that car. Maybe if she went with Sully, she wouldn't have felt this draining, and her heart sure as hell wouldn't be shattering right now. Without realizing it, a tear slipped from her eye. She was rooted to the spot, the sun's rays blaring on her frame. She didn't understand what was happening. He found someone else. Did you really think he'd wait for you? Her mind screamed to confront him, to make her presence known, but her legs didn't move. She was staring at the one man who made her feel so real, so alive…and she lost him. Sully broke the kiss and smiled at the woman. Brennan watched as he ran across the street to an ATM, get some cash, strut back to the car, and drive away.

He never even looked at the Jeffersonian.

Only then did her legs move. She swiped her eyes bitterly and numbly made her way back to the Jeffersonian. Sully was what she could have had. Not caring about the why's or how's on Sully's new relationship status, Brennan felt herself closing up. Happiness and a sense of belonging was offered to her, and she threw it all away. Now all that awaited her were bones, and that would never change.

A few feet from the door, she heard a shout. Before she could acknowledge what was happening, a sharp pain erupted in the left side of her skull. She felt herself falling freely…and then everything faded out. Brennan's eyes snapped open, and she sat upright once she felt herself stop floating. The room around her was white and sterile, and machines beeped erratically. She looked down at her body and realized it was in a thin gown, and her arms were attached to I.V.s. She was in a hospital.

"What the hell?" she muttered. She had no idea why she was there. The last thing she remembered was seeing Sully with the Blonde, and that was a few seconds earlier! Pushing away the onslaught of heartbreak and confusion, Brennan calmed herself. She needed to find out why she was sitting in a hospital bed. A nurse suddenly popped her head into the room, and her eyes widened with surprise. Her white wispy hair was scarce on her head, and she waddled when she walked. In a nasally voice, she announced, "Ms. Brennan, you're awake. Dear Lord, let me get the doctor."

"It's Dr. Brennan," she snapped.

Moments later a young doctor came in, a look of disbelief on his young face. "My god, she's moving like's she only slept a few minutes," he murmured. Brennan's confusion returned. The nametag on the doctor read, "T. Sullivan, M.D." Brennan's heart skipped a few beats as she caught the resemblance between the doctor and Sully. More than a resemblance, did Sully have a twin? His hair was thick, wavy, and dark. He was about the same height as Sully, and his eyes held a twinkle even if he was upset. Pushing away the startling likeness, Brennan moved as if to get off the bed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to leave.

Sullivan ran up to her and soothed, "Ms. Brennan, please don't move…my god, you shouldn't be moving at all, this is remarkable. Do you remember anything?"

Brennan grimaced and she reminded him harshly, "It's Dr. Brennan, and no, why the hell am I in the hospital?"

Sullivan looked at her oddly and Brennan exhaled, irritated. "Let me call Booth, or Angela, because you obviously aren't giving me answers…"

Sullivan's face was not hiding his disbelief. In a dazed voice, Sullivan slipped out, "I don't understand, you're acting like nothing has happened…"

"What, what happened?" Brennan demanded. Sullivan hesitated, and Brennan noticed he was clutching her medical file. Ripping it from his grasp and ignoring his protests, Brennan quickly scanned her diagnosis…and didn't understand. The file slipped to the floor as Brennan dropped it, in shock, disbelief, and with the feeling she was in a nightmare.

"That's a lie," she hissed.

Sullivan looked at her with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, Ms. Brennan. You've been in a coma for two years."

"No, that's wrong. I'm a forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian, I write novels and I work with Special Agent Seeley Booth of the F.B.I, and I swear to you, a minute ago I was standing in the parking lot," Brennan rambled off, her voice rising.

Sullivan moved to calm her, and she pushed him away. He signaled to a different nurse, and she moved to restrain Brennan.

"Call them, call the Jeffersonian," Brennan demanded. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the nurse uncap a syringe. Before Brennan could react, the needle was plunged into her arm. Brennan hissed and Sullivan spoke softly, "I know this is hard, but we will give you answers, Ms. Brennan. It's a miracle you're able to move and speak as well as you have already…" Brennan felt herself become heavy, but she wasn't tired. Muscle relaxant…they wouldn't knock me out of I had been in a coma, her mind thought rationally…except that I wasn't in one to begin with!

Not being able to resist, Brennan was placed back into a lying position. Her eyes widened when she heard the nurse whisper, "Sully, how do you explain what's going on?"

Sully?

"I'm going to find out…do you know of any Jeffersonian?"

"No."

Brennan felt helpless, and fear was beginning to wrap its hand around her core.

Two years? That's impossible…isn't it?