Title: Torn on the Edge

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. This is an adaptation on Man in the Morgue-my all time favorite episode… The first chapter is close to the show, but if you read it-it isn't. I also moved the time line, instead of season one it is in season two-just before Girl with a Curl, I'm not sure if I will follow SII as well, I know for a fact that I want Judas on the Pole and Man in the Concrete, etc… basically Graham Leger was a notorious horn dog as Caroline Julian…. Come on you can figure it out.

Spoiler: Man in the Morgue

Chapter One: New Orleans

Brennan woke up with a start, seeing nothing but the black and white tile of the bathroom floor where her head was place, sitting up slowly she surveyed her surroundings; blood stained the once white tile, catching her off guard. Her hand went to her hair; it was matted with sticky semi-dried blood, but it wasn't alone-her hands and clothes were covered in it.

She placed her right hand on the vanity to pull herself off the floor, pain shot through her wrist and she cried out in pain. Brennan cradled her wrist and got to her feet and looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection supported a deep cut on her cheek and bruises on her face, confirming that she didn't have any idea what had happened to her.

The telephone rang in the other room and she limped over to answer it. "Doctor Brennan, you shuttle to the airport is here." Said the woman's voice on the other line.

"No, my flight isn't until tomorrow, Thursday." She responded, sitting down on the couch.

"Today is Thursday, Doctor Brennan." The woman said slowly.

She let the phone fall to the floor. "What happened to Wednesday?" She asked herself out loud. The woman's voice was yelling from the phone, beckoning her for attention.

After a few moments, Brennan's cell phone began to ring on the coffee table. She recognized the phone number and answered it. "Brennan."

"How are things in the Big Easy, Bones?" Her partner's voice came from the phone. She could almost see him sitting at his desk, reclining back with his charm smile on. "You ready to come home yet?"

"I. . .don't know Booth, I don't even know what day it is." She answered slowly, defeated.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Asked Booth, she could hear his chair squeaking in protest as he sat up straighter.

She didn't answer right away, trying to figure out how to tell Booth that she woke up on the bathroom floor without him worrying him. "I thought it was Wednesday."

"Too much partying in New Orleans, Bones?" He asked as a joke, the feeling in his gut told him something wasn't right. When she didn't retort that she had three doctorates and was a world renowned forensic anthropologist, he began to worry. "Are you all right Bones?"

"I'm fine, I think." She said.

"You don't sound fine. I'm coming down there." Booth said, she could hear him shuffle papers on his desk.

"No Booth. I'm going to go to the doctor-everything is fine." She said firmly as there was a knock on the door.

"Temperance, don't argue with me." He said firmly. "I'm on my way." And he hung up as to not cause further argument. She turned her phone off and opened the door, almost forgetting the blood smeared all over her clothes. Brennan cried out, temporarily forgetting the injury.

"Oh my god," Said the woman, that she recognized from the front desk. "Doctor Brennan, what happened?"

"I don't know." Said Brennan as a wave of vertigo shot through her, causing her to sway slightly. She walked back to the couch and sat down with an unceremonious thud, as the woman said something about getting help.

---------------------------------------------------

". . . Looks like someone stole your earring," Said the doctor, placing a bandage on the torn earlobe, most of the blood had been cleaned up from the rest of her body and he was just patching her up. "Ripped it right out of the earlobe."

"I don't know what happened to me." She said, as he walked towards the counter.

"It's a tough town and we don't have very many cops anymore." He said, as the door opened. It was Detective Harding. "And they weren't very good to begin with."

"You shouldn't insult the ones who did stay." She snapped, glancing over at the Anthropologist.

"Detective Harding, I didn't know who else to call." Brennan said uncomfortably.

"I need blood samples on this clothing, maybe we'll get lucky and it won't all come from you." Ordered the detective, giving her the once over, "Still hazy on the details?"

"I'm not hazy on the details, I don't remember anything." Answered Brennan.

"Nothing?" Prodded the woman. "What's the last thing that you remember?"

Brennan shook her head. "Doctor Leger knocking over the tray of instruments at the morgue, and then nothing."

"That was the day before yesterday." Harding said softly.

"I've requested a rape kit." She said, growing uncomfortable.

"I was just about to start that." Said the doctor, as a commotion outside the door caught their attention.

". . .Sir you can't go in there." Said an irate nurse as Booth opened the door. He had a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face when he stepped into the room.

"Bones, you ok?" He asked softly, shutting the door in the nurse's face.

"Booth, I told you not to come." She said, looking away in embarrassment, he took the two long strides to her side.

"Whose this?" Asked Harding, giving her an 'Angela' look, the one that was suggesting something that wasn't there.

"He's FBI, we're partners." She explained, looking away from him.

"The man flies from DC, your more than just partners." Implied Harding, with a coy smile on her face. Angela would've liked her.

"Yeah, yeah-what's the last thing you remember?" asked Booth, placing a hand on her arm. Brennan was growing uncomfortable with him there-only being in a hospital gown.

"Doctor Leger knocking over the tray of instruments, that's it." She said quietly, cursing herself for answering the phone in the first place.

"Why can't she remember anything?" Booth asked the doctor, keeping the panic at bay and silently telling himself not to jump to conclusions.

"Could be the head injury." Said the doctor, removing his gloves.

"Hair line stress fracture on my right distal radius, concussion, slight fever, and torn earlobe. I lost one of my favorite earrings."

"Your worried about an earring, you really should be worried about losing a whole day." Said Booth, knowing well enough what they meant to her.

"I know, its stupid, but these were my mother's earrings." She said sadly, Booth took her hand in his-giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Amnesia caused by any traumatic event, injury or drug can erase memories before the event, not just after." Explained the doctor, writing something into her chart.

"Good, we'll just wait for the tox-screen." Booth said reassuringly, cataloguing her injuries for himself.

"Its going to be at least twenty four hours." Said the doctor, setting the chart down on the desk. Booth didn't like the guy, he wasn't giving her the attention that she needed.

"Twenty four hours?" asked Booth stunned, his anger growing at the man.

"Almost all the labs were destroyed by the hurricane." He explained, shrugging and turned to leave the room.

"We'll find out what happened to you." Said Harding looking from Brennan to her partner. "You just look out for your . . .Partner." Not convinced that they were just partners and left the room-following the doctor.

Booth gently grabbed her chin with his thumb and index finger to examine the cut on her cheek and the bruise that surrounded it. "We'll figure it out, Bones. We always do." He whispered, wrapping his arms around her in a 'guy' hug.

"I . . .thanks Booth." She whispered, resting her head on his chest.