Jordan was at her father's house only three days before federal agents came and get her. They knocked on the door at dinner time, told her to pack a bag, that they were taking her to a safe house. She shrugged and went to pack up the few things she'd bought since she'd returned. A few pieces of clothing, toothbrush, hairbrush, a few necessary cosmetics, and she left with them, giving only a short goodbye to her father. She had know this was coming, in fact it took longer than she thought for them to come. Truth be told, she didn't even care. She felt that feeling returning, the one shrinks had nagging her about since she was fifteen, the indifference she felt about her own life. It might have frightened her if she hadn't felt so drained.

Jordan's conversations with her father had gotten much better than they had begun. When she left they were still short, still strained, and still very, very awkward. She stopped talking too much to anyone, as far as she was concerned there was nothing left to talk about. Life had screwed her yet again, but this time she was tired of picking up the pieces and starting over. She'd done it too many times in her fairly young life; it was time to stop. The only problem was how, and where.

"Hey Doc, we're here. You're new home until the trial is over. Take a look, you could be here a while." The agent at her side nudged her and pointed to a small cottage that they'd driven hours to get to, way too many hours.

Though the cottage was cute, Jordan wasn't impressed, rather she was completely indifferent. Once upon a time she would have bitched and moaned about being stuck in witness protection, she would have refused, given them hell, and probably plotted how to escape. Now though, she simply followed them into the house, place her suitcase on the bed in the room they had designated as hers and calmly unpacked. Had her family been there, they would have called 911, something had to be seriously wrong with her, this was not the Jordan Cavanaugh that they had grown to know, and yes love. But this is what Jordan had reverted to as a form of protection against the pain she'd been constantly put through, especially the pain of the last few years.

So it was that these Feds lucked out more than they would ever understand, babysitting Jordan Cavanaugh was a piece of cake. Why couldn't all their witnesses be so well-behaved, so accommodating? Ironically the guards who observed her while she was incarcerated said the same things to themselves. So it was also that these Feds enjoyed the two months they spent guarding Jordan, there weren't even any attacks.


He sat at his desk, calming his nerves by lightly another cigarette with a fresh match and taking a drag. Federal agents were rifling through his belongings, messily throwing them in boxes carelessly. The fuckers had turned him in, he did their dirty work and the little fuckers turned him in. His companion sat squirming in his seat, well , squirming more than normal.

"Alright, let's try this again, what's your real name?" One fed demanded looking at him as he calmly took another drag.

"Gerald Weaver, my name is Gerald Weaver." His squirming buddy desperately answered at him, though he wasn't the one asked, attempting to score brownie points.

"We already know your name man, his we don't. Do you know his name?"

"Smoke?"

"No his real one genius." The agent said annoyed.

"Man what is your name. Cooperate and we'll go easier."

He blew a smoke ring at him.

"Last chance, what the fuck is your name?" The agent was getting pissed now.

"How about I spell it for you?"

"Whatever so long as I get it."

"S-A-N-T-A-C-L-" The agent finally got it then.

"Screw you, little prick. We'll book you just the same." He said as he cuffed both and dragged them out with two other agents.


Meanwhile these two months Jordan was gone, the morgue carried on as normal, they had cases, did autopsies, ran trace, went out together, though not as often. Everything seemed painfully normal, but they all knew it wasn't. Even with Woody once again a more than regular visitor, now that the tension wasn't there, and likewise with the blond detective. They all felt her absence, more than she might ever realize. When Bug gave Lily flowers to cheer her up after a bad day, she couldn't wait to gush to Jordan. When Nigel found a particularly lewd tattoo on a body he starting walking to Jordan's office, laughing until he realized she wasn't there. One day in the lab, Bug annoyed at an unidentifiable gook on a body, turned to ask Jordan what she thought it could be. Perhaps most tragically, when Garret felt he may fall off the wagon head first, he sat and stared at the stange woman in Jordan's office. As for Woody, if it was possible it felt stranger now than it had before walking into the morgue and passing Jordan's office. Several times a day he had to tell himself that she wasn't there. Max thought about leaving again, but knew that she would never forgive him.

Jordan stood at a stove attempting to make Béchamel sauce, as cooking had become her new hobby while she was a prisoner of the FBI. They were happy to bring her what ever she asked for, simply because she didn't complain. Cooking real food, not just frozen vegetables and pasta wasn't something that Jordan was known for, perhaps that is why she chose that. But for a month and a half she'd been pouring through cook books, randomly picking recipes and feeding a very happy companions. Even as she stirred the cream sauce burned, sticking to the pot, frustrating her, and reminding her why she never cooked like this before.

"Uh no." she mumbled as she saw her sauce begin to burn and began stirring even faster and lowering the heat, trying to get the milk, flour, and cheese mixture to thicken.

"You okay there Jordan?" Jerry, her day guard asked.

"Fine, it's just this crap keeps burning to the bottom of the pot." She lifted the pot and mixed it away from the heat.

"What are you making?"

"Baked macaroni and cheese, but failing miserably."

"Sounds good, I may stay past my shift and sneak a bite."

"Your shift ends in thirty minutes, you'll be stuck here for hours if you stay, cause this isn't going well." He laughed at her as she studied the lumpy mixture in the pot, and wrinkled her nose at the skin it was developing.

"It might be worth it to see if you mastered something other than every salad known to man."

"You see, this is why I stuck with salads." As she spoke there was a harsh pounding on the door.

"Steve, what the Hell is going on, you could wake the dead with that pounding and you're a half hour early."

"Prosecutors moved Jordan up on the witness list, she testifies bright and early tomorrow. We have to move her tonight, as soon as night falls."

"Why the hell did they move her?"

"Confuse everyone I guess."

"It worked," He commented as they headed inside, "Hey Jordan, time to put down the spoon, we're taking you back to Boston."

"What's going on, what happened?" she asked nervously, showing a rare bit of emotion.

"It's fine, the attorneys just moved you up on the witness list, you testify tomorrow."

"I guess I'll go pack." She said as she left, reverting back to her state of indifference.

Jordan didn't know how she felt about returning to Boston. She didn't know how she felt about facing Pollack's killers, the people that had tried to kill her, tried to take her life as she knew it away from her. She didn't know how she felt about seeing her family again, not that she'd have much of a chance. But she knew they'd be there in the courtroom, supporting her as she testified. Part of her wanted to see them because she missed them, part of her didn't want to see them because she needed them.


The next morning Jordan sat in an annoyingly familiar, black sedan with tinted windows and a Fed on either side of her. The car ride back to Boston had been long, and the night had been even longer, she hadn't been able to really sleep. Now dressed in nice slacks and a sweater Lily had gotten her, Jordan prepared herself to testify. A heavy dose of coffee and a layer of make-up left her hoping they would be enough to make her look presentable.

They seemed to have been going light speed at the rate they made it to the courthouse, and this speed continued as they ushered Jordan in through the backdoor of the old building. They had just made it through the first hallway when a blast of gunfire came out of nowhere. No it wasn't just a blast, it was many blasts, one following the other in a deafening beat. Two agents tackled Jordan to the ground, covering her as human shields, while the others took to a crouching position and tried to find where the blasts were coming from.

"Get her the fuck inside the witness room, Now!" roared the senior agent in charge, as the rest huddled over her, shielding her as they made for the nearby witness room. As these three did what they were told, and a dozen other FBI agents stormed the area, firing in the directions of the shots.

Ten minutes of shooting went on until their opponent stopped.

"Did we get the bastard?"

"I can't tell."

"Miller, Banks, Grape, Mattice, and Rose go over and look for him, keep your weapons ready. Fraser and Hampton go check on Dr. Cavanaugh." The three remaining agents called in the mess, and requested CSU and had three ambulances sent. Though it seemed too late for two of the agents.

Ten minutes after this, Jordan had been asked if she was okay so many times she was on the verge of screaming. Physically she was in one piece, but two men died men died protecting her, no she wasn't fine. This is what she told the two lead prosecutors.

"That's fine we can recess for tomorrow, no way the judge won't give that to us."

"No." Jordan said.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't ask the judge for a recess."

"You don't want to testify anymore?"

"That isn't what I said. I'm supposed to testify this morning, so I am testifying this morning."

"Dr. Cavanaugh are you sure you're up to this?" Both attorneys eyed her warily.

"Yes, go back into court and call me so I can get this over with." Ignoring the fact that she had blatantly ordered them, the attorneys left to do just that.


"The Prosecution now calls Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh to the stand." The doors to the courtroom flew open and Jordan walked nervously to the stand.

"Do you swear to tell the truth so help you God?"

"I do."

"Dr. Cavanaugh, Jordan, can you tell us a little about your life prior to the last three months?"

"I was a Medical Examiner in Boston…" For ten minutes Jordan told the jury about her life prior to J.D.'s death.

"Now please tell us Jordan, what happened the morning after Ms. Lebowski's rehearsal dinner."

"Lily knocking on the door woke me up, I had maid of honor duties. My head was hazy at first, I didn't remember a whole lot. I saw the gun in my hand and the blood all over the dress I wore the night before, I was still in it…Lily came in and saw…and asked me to put the gun down, I didn't at first…it was still fuzzy. She asked me what happened, and I…I didn't know, I didn't know what to tell her…I couldn't remember anything." Jordan's voice cracked remembering that morning.

"It's alright Jordan, please go on."

Her voice was stronger for most of her testimony, there were only a few more parts where it cracked again, but nonetheless, she was exhausted. Her eyes kept wandering between the attorney, the defendants, and the six faces in the crowd that were her family. The jury had already seen four of those faces, Woody and Max were the only ones not testifying. For Jordan it wasn't over yet, but unbeknownst to the crowd in the courtroom, a man slid in, taking a seat toward the back. He sat close to the isle, feeling the buldge in his jacket pocket. He was late, they had just called him in, but he wasn't too late. If he got rid of her before the defense finished questioning her, he testimony would be stricken.

"Dr. Cavanaugh you violated and skipped you bail, manhandled a bartender, broke into an apartment, a newspaper office, and a safety deposit box, and we should believe that you are honest?"

"Objection!"

"The defense has the right to examine the good doctor's credibility."

"Overruled."

"So Doctor, how can we possibly believe that you are honest?"

"I had to prove my innocence."

"That gives you the right to break laws?"

"No."

"So then you are being prosecuted for breaking and entering?"

"No."

"Now I'm confused."

Fingering his bulge he scanned the courtroom for the best approach.

"Dr. Cavanaugh you're known as something of a loose cannon, aren't you?"

"I couldn't tell you that, you'd have to ask whoever I am known to."

"Very well. This isn't the first time you were suspected of a murder was it?"

"Objection you honor!" The prosecutor was on his feet now."

"Again, goes to credibility."

"Very well, continue."

Should he move or just shoot?

"So Doctor?"

"Yes."

"A police captain wasn't it?"

"Captain Malden yes."

Lean out and fire. Worry about spray?

"Was shot to death in your apartment?"

"Yes."

"And you were let off on that charge too."

"I didn't kill him."

No, who cares about bystanders.

"That's right, you were drugged weren't you?"

"Yes, he put rohypnol in my scotch."

"Bad things happen when you drink-"

Nice hit counselor.

"Objection! Objection! No foundation!" This time he was practically jumping up and down.

"That is sustained. Watch where you are stepping counselor."

-Keep the questions coming, come on, come on.

"I have no-"

Jackass no! Aw Hell, here goes. He yanked out the gun and began firing toward the witness stand, when he saw Jordan go down, he continued firing crazily. This could give him to time to make sure she is dead.

Damn it, guards, time to go.