Tyler was being haunted. Call it a ghost, call it a spirit, or call it a silly delusion, but there they were. Men and women, and worst of all, children. He had been working with The Forgotten Network for almost a year now, doing sketches of all their Doe's, and now those people were catching up to them.

They all reacted differently when it came to getting to know the victim. Maxine preferred to know the bare facts, with no attatchment underneath, Alex knew what it was like to lose someone, so he threw himself into knowing the victim's families, while Candace was the opposite, she needed to know the victim. Walter was a mixture, he didn't like forming the deep-rooted sympathy that Candace did, it unsettled him, but he didn't like the feeling of feeling next to nothing, like Maxine.

But he, Tyler, out of his team, knew the victim first. He would take their skull, the head that had once thought all their thoughts, dreamed all their dreams, and he would set it in front of him. He would take out his piece of paper, his pencil, and he would get to work.

He would take this white bone, a faint whisper of what it would like like in life, and he would give that person their flesh back. He would return their face, their distinguishing characteristics, like the high forehead, or the small nose, or the eyes that were far apart. He would take this poor person, who likely met an undeserved end, and he would give life back to them, at least, for a little while.

The worst part about it was, after the last thought, give them life again, he had to wonder, was it true? When he held part of their body in his hands, when he moved it around, was he unsettling this person? Tyler wasn't big on religion, but he liked to believe that there was life after death, that a person didn't just die, that their spirits didn't just flicker out, like a candle. Was he, by drawing that face, unintentionally bringing that poor soul up from their rest? Was he hurting them? Or were they wandering around, tortured that they were still seperated from their families, thankful that he was doing this for them, thankful that, thanks to the team, they would be reunited with those who loved them the most?

If he told anyone else these thoughts, they would think he was nuts. Hell, sometimes he thought he was nuts, and they were his own thoughts! Could he really believe that, simply by drawing a picture, he could bring the dead back to life?

He glanced at the picture in his hands, a girl, not even six years old, and heard the distant echo of a child's laugh, and then a scream, as that child's life ended. Yes, yes he could believe that.

I haven't seen the show in so long, I'm scared that I got Tyler all out of character. :S Oh, well, this will have to do, even though I'm not sure it makes sense . . . As always, enjoy, reviewers are loved, and I do not own The Forgotten.