A/N: You can consider the basic premise of this little story to be either pure cheese or utter denial on my part. Granted… if they had tried this on the show, I'd be voting for pure cheese – of the water and oil based "processed cheese-type food" variety no less. But it's fanfic… time to play and have fun and maybe enjoy the cheddar (or Swiss or provolone or chevre or whatever you like with your wine – or whine ).

A/N (updated): I started this back in…oh, July. Possibly June. It took a long time (duh) to write. Not from lack of interest on my part but because it simply came slowly. Basically, it's now an AU timeline from "Don't Leave Me This Way." If you don't like Jordan/J.D., skip it.

DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Not thinking the coup is necessary at this point, but still ready, willing and able to stage it if it should become necessary.

The Raveled Sleeve of Care: Part Four

Jordan went running in the morning, leaving the reporter sleeping soundly in her bed. He hadn't pushed her for anything once she'd finished reading the file. To answer her question, he'd suggested she sleep on the information he'd found. To his credit, he hadn't suggested anything physical, but had been content to hold her in his arms.

She stopped in the park to cool down and have some water. People strolled by, some going to and from church, she supposed. Some were out with their kids for breakfast and, given the weather, probably heading to the beach or maybe the Sox were in town. People going about their normal lives; people who had normal lives. She unclipped her cell phone and dialed Nigel, hoping that if she woke him up, his hangover wouldn't be too bad.

He answered on the second ring and sounded alert so Jordan launched into her request. He listened for a moment and then agreed. "Might take a bit, luv," he told her.

"I know," she told him. "I can wait."

Nigel chuckled. "Since when?"

She hesitated. "Since now."

The Brit knew her well enough to hear something different in her voice and he let it be.

XXXXX

"Man," Jordan drew a breath through her mouth. "And it's not even summer yet."

"No kidding," Garret agreed, bending next to the body found by hikers that morning and already in extensive decomposition.

"Hey there."

Both M.E.'s looked up at Woody.

"What can you tell me?" He looked down and his face went green, his nose wrinkling at the stench. "Other… than I'm going to be getting this suit dry cleaned."

Macy and Jordan exchanged looks though the gallows humor didn't really offend them. "Uh," Garret said. "Not much. Decomp is…." He swallowed.

"'Kay. Yeah." Woody flipped his notebook shut. "Let me know if you find out anything-"

A call of "Detective Hoyt! Over here!" pulled Woody away before he could add anything else. Garret and Jordan continued to examine what was left of the body. The detective returned shortly with a wallet. "Well, I think we have an i.d."

Jordan reached for it with one gloved hand. "This will give us a place to start. Thanks." Woody shifted from foot to foot while Jordan and Garret conferred. "Gar, I'll get this back to the morgue and get Nigel on it."

The Chief M.E. agreed before beginning to arrange for the body's transportation.

Jordan began to walk back to her Blazer, finding Woody on her heels. "So… um… how's Lily?"

The M.E. didn't break stride. "Pretty good, actually. She seems to be happy, says she finally knows what she wants."

"Good… that's good. For her. That was – uh – some … wedding. Well, not really, I guess."

Finally Jordan stopped. "Woody, is there something you want to talk about?"

"No." He shook his head and blinked rapidly. "No, not at all."

"Fine, then I need to get back to the morgue." She resumed her fast pace toward where she'd parked.

He stared after her for a minute and then hurried after her retreating back. "Actually, Jordan. Yeah. Um… there was something."

She stopped again and turned to face him. "Pollack?"

It took him a moment to respond and when he did it was with a slow nod.

"You know, Woody," she began, her voice cool. "You – We – We both got something we'd wanted for a while and… it didn't work out. We've both moved on."

"Jordan-"

"End of story, Woody." She swallowed. "At least we know, right?"

"Um… yeah." He nodded again. "At least we know."

XXXXX

The dead man in the woods turned out to be a case of accidental death, his neck breaking when he fell down a hill. His wife had been in Tokyo on a business conference and so his absence hadn't been reported until her return. The same day Jordan finished up her report on the tragic incident, Nigel brought her the information she had asked him to get.

"Thanks, Nige."

"Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Maybe later."

XXXXX

"You sure you don't want me to go with you?" Pollack watched Jordan toss a few things in a duffel bag.

She shook her head. "Thanks, but this is something… I need to do on my own."

He gave her an understanding look.

"It'll just be a – a couple of days." She laughed to lighten the mood. "As long as the El Camino doesn't conk out."

"You could fly," he suggested.

"Yeah." She shrugged. "I – I need the time." The unspoken question was in her eyes and the set of her mouth.

"Well, I'll be here when you get back."

"You don't need to take care of me, you know." She zipped the duffel shut, not daring to look at him this time.

He took the bag out of her hand and pulled her to him. "I know you're not used to it, Cavanaugh. But," he tilted her chin up with one finger. "I recall saying maybe you should get used to it."

She swallowed. "That was a while ago."

He shrugged lightly. "Hasn't changed."

Jordan had no response for that. It had changed, of course. A lot had changed. But, she realized, maybe it hadn't changed in all together bad ways. She smiled, that quirky, enigmatic smile. "I'll call you when I get there."

XXXXX

Max was surprised to see his daughter. He gave her a wary hug. The look in her dark eyes and the set of her jaw told him something had happened. He tried to avoid whatever conversation she wanted to have. "You could have called, you know."

"I could have," she replied. "If this is a bad time, I can wait. I'm pretty good at that, Dad."

Her voice sent shivers of dread through him. "No, no. Jordan, of course it's not a bad time. You're my daughter." The jovial tone of his voice didn't reach his eyes.

"I have something I want you to see."

"What's this all about, Jordan?"

She thrust the typescript of Pollack's article at him. The article hadn't run yet and Pollack was actually waiting for Jordan to say it was okay, but she'd brought a copy nonetheless. Max put on his glasses and read the reporter's well crafted writing. When he reached the end, he took a very deep breath and looked up. His eyes were stones and his mouth, a grim line. "Who is this guy? The guy that wrote this."

"J.D. Pollack."

"I can read his by-line, dammit! Who is he?"

"He's – He's someone I know."

"Well, he's got a hell of an imagination!"

"Cut the crap, Dad!" Jordan's eyes flashed. "It's the truth."

"You don't know that. I thought you were too smart to believe everything you read."

His baiting failed. "I do know it's the truth. I've seen the research, Dad, the reports, even the ones that were buried. Some of it is even from files that were at the Morgue! It's been there, all this time." She was breathing harder. "It just took – someone else to find it."

"Why was he looking?"

She sighed. "He wasn't. His was doing an article on the judge. He put two and two together."

Max opened his mouth and then shut it again. "Has he published it?"

Jordan shook her head. "He's waiting."

"For what?"

"For me. Until I had a chance to talk to you."

"What kind of reporter sits on a story like this?"

She exhaled softly, quickly. "One who – who didn't want to see me get hurt." Her eyes narrowed. "Again."

"Jordan, you have to understand-"

"I've tried, Dad. I've really tried. I'm sure you had your reasons and I'm sure you'll tell me what they were, but I don't think I'll ever really understand."

Max's shoulders slumped. "I should have told you."

"Damn right you should have told me! I get why you wouldn't tell a ten year old, but I'm not ten, Dad. I haven't been for a long time."

"I was worried."

"What? That I'd go after him? Or did you just think maybe I'd outgrow needing to know who killed Mom? That I'd outgrow needing to hear the truth from my own father?"

He put out a hand but she slapped it away. "You want to score points on me, Jordan? Go ahead. I deserve some of it. Hell, I deserve a lot of it. But not all of it. If you let me explain, maybe you'll see that."

She glared at him, her eyes a mutiny, but finally she dipped her head once in tacit agreement.

"They threatened to take you away, to help your grandparents prove I wasn't a fit parent."

She nodded. "And when I got older?"

"More threats. Proof- forgeries of course, but believable forgeries – showing you'd cheated in classes in college. Later, telling me you'd lose your job, that you'd never get another."

"I never cared about my job!"

Max shook his head. "But I did. Jordan, you're good at what you do. Not just good, great. And nothing would ever have brought your mother back. And you may not think you care about your job, but you do."

She pushed down the tears. "What about the last few years? He's dead. You could have told me."

"I had this strange idea you wouldn't react well."

"How can you expect me to?"

"I can't." He looked away from her. "I was selfish. I was afraid you'd never want to see me again. Look, Jordan, I know we don't have a very good relationship, but the thought of not having any relationship with my only daughter about kills me. So, I was a coward."

She hesitated for a moment, the tears finally spilling over. "Oh, Dad. I – I…." She thought of that day she'd found him crying on their front steps, of the moment she knew he resented needing her so much. Then she put her arms around him. "I love you," she murmured. "That's never going to change."

Her father held onto her, knowing they were both still broken people, but seeing for the first time the chance of mending everything.

END Part Four