"Jordan, Jordan, wake up."

Jordan heard a voice softly whisper her name. Snuggling her head down further in her pillow, she wondered where Woody had gone. This definitely wasn't his chest – it wasn't hard and it had no heartbeat. Slowly she opened her eyes. How'd she get in her bedroom?

"Jor?" It was Garrett. "Ready to get up and go with me into work today?"

"Sure – give me a few minutes."

Jordan showered, did her make up and hair, and dressed. She and Garrett were soon at the Medical Examiners office. Garrett led her upstairs and into her office. "Any of this look familiar?" he asked.

Jordan slowly looked around. "In a way, it does. I remember that file cabinet over there is the open cases," she said, pointing to the one on the right. "The one in the middle is for closed cases, and the one on the left is for cold cases." She turned to Garrett, looking for some sort of confirmation.

"That's right. Do you remember the last case you worked on?"

"The Stephenson case. It was an automobile accident, but he didn't die from the accident. He had a stroke while he was driving."

Garrett grinned. So far, Jordan was batting a thousand. "Let's go to Nigel's and Bug's office and see what else you can remember.

"Hi, Nige," greeted Jordan, as she and Garrett entered the office.

"Well, hello love. You are looking smashing today. How's that pretty, little head of yours?"

"It's doing better." Jordan smiled at Nigel. Somewhere in her mind, she did believe that Nigel was one of her best friends.

"I brought Jordan in for a little test, guys. I'm trying to see what all she remembers about her work. So far, she's remembering everything I've asked her about, but I need you to put her through the paces here," said Garrett.

"Now is a good time," said Bug. We're getting ready to do an autopsy in exam room one."

"Good. Jordan, why don't you go down to the locker room and change and meet us back here?" Garrett asked. "Do you remember where it is?"

"Sure. Just down the hall and around the corner." Jordan shook her head. This was getting old. If there was one place she felt at ease since her accident it was this morgue. It felt like home. Everything was familiar. She had no problem remember where her locker was or where the scrubs were.

"Look guys," Garrett was talking to Bug and Nigel. "I've got to know how much she remembers about her training and her job. There can be no second guessing on this one. I'll observe, but I want no prompting from you. You ask her if she remembers how to do something before you perform the procedure. If there is any hesitation, don't let her go any further." Bug and Nigel nodded.

"Okay guys, I'm ready. What have we got?" Jordan said coming into the exam room, snapping on the latex gloves.

"Male, 27, found dead in his apartment this morning," Garrett said. "Now how about time of death? How do you find it?"

Without hesitation, Jordan picked her the young man's arm and tried to bend it. Then she took a liver temperature. "I'd say between 12 and 15 hours ago." Garrett nodded, so far so good.

"But did anyone check the fluid in his eyes before now?"

Nigel grinned. His girl was doing good. "I've got it love. Now what?"

Jordan looked over to Garrett. "Want me to do the Y-incision?"

"Yeah, you're doing fine…go for it."

"Has anyone done a tox screen yet?" she asked.

"It's in the works," said Bug, grinning. He was relieved that Jordan was doing so well. It would be good to have her back in the morgue again.

Jordan picked up her scalpel and without any hesitation performed the autopsy like she had never missed a day or work. At the end of the three hour procedure, Jordan was more like her old self than ever.

"So how'd I do, boss," Jordan asked as she and Garrett made their way back to his office.

Garrett put his arm around her. "Outstanding. Absolutely outdamnstanding. But how are you feeling? Did it tire you out too much?"

Jordan plopped down on the couch in Garrett's office. "No. To be honest, this is the best I have felt in weeks. I may not remember people, but I remember this place," she said, gesturing out to the morgue, "And I remember my job. That makes me feel good."

"Any headaches?"

"None."

Garrett grinned. "Okay, I'll put you on half days for a couple of weeks and we'll keep you supervised until everyone in the Boston PD and DA's office is comfortable with you being back at work. Then I'll plug you in full time. Okay?"

"Sounds great."

"Well, what do we have here? Or rather, who do we have here?" said a voice from the doorway.

"Afternoon, Dr. Stiles," said Garrett.

"Good afternoon, Garret. Jordan."

Jordan looked at the short man. 'I have absolutely no clue,' she thought. But she held out her hand. "Hi, Dr. Stiles."

"Do you remember me, Jordan?"

Jordan thought she may as well play it honest. She had no idea if the Dr. in Dr. Stiles meant he was another ME or some other doctor. "No…I'm having a little trouble with people right now."

Dr. Stiles smiled and sat down on the couch beside her. "Well, that's to be expected with short-term amnesia. I'm sure it will pass. Can you remember people after they introduce themselves to you?"

"Oh, yeah. No problem there."

"Good…"

"She remembers how to do her job, Stiles," said Garrett, leaning on his desk and crossing his arms across his chest.

"So you remember how to perform autopsies, but you don't remember people?"

Jordan shook her head no.

"Interesting……well, look. I gotta run. Meeting the wife for lunch. If you need to talk, call me Jordan. I'll be checking back again with you later."

After Dr. Stiles left, Jordan asked Garrett, "Who was he?"

"He's the state psychiatrist. He was just sort of seeing where you were at."

"Do I like him?"

"None of us really like him, Jordan. But he's just doing his job. And he is very good at what he does."

And so Jordan's life settled into a routine for the next few weeks. She worked half a day and then someone would either take her back to Garrett's apartment, or she'd hang out with Nigel, or Woody would spend time with her. But if the truth was known, she was happiest at the morgue. It felt familiar. It felt like an old friend. It felt like home. She knew what she was doing there and didn't have to ask questions. If she was buried in her work, the dead people didn't care if she no longer recognized them. And all the DA and police wanted were answers. She knew what she was doing there and everything made sense. Finally, one afternoon after Garrett made her clock out, she strolled into Nigel's office for some conversation.

"Hey, Nige."

"Hey yourself, love. Why aren't you back at Garrett's propping your feet up and resting your head?"

"My head's had enough rest for a lifetime, Nige. I'm ready for some sort of normal life."

"Normal's just setting on your dryer."

"You know what I mean. Working full time. Back in my apartment at night. Driving my car – you know. I want my life back."

"When do you go back to your doctor?"

"Next week."

"Maybe he'll let you have your life back then."

"I hope so….I really hope so. I'm doing better – I haven't had a headache in days now."

Nigel looked her over from head to toe. Physically, Jordan looked fine – as if nothing happened. But her amnesia bothered him. Not on the level that she couldn't remember people, but the fact that she didn't seem to push herself to remember. That nagged at him because they had been best friends for years. They had gone through so much together, that to have him only remember their past just didn't seem fair. For Nigel, to have Jordan remember her past also secured her in his future. They had a history together. "What's say we leave and go get a cup of coffee, love?"

"Sure – sounds great."

Walking down to the coffee shop on the corner, they ordered their drinks and sat down at a small table in the back of the shop where they wouldn't be bothered. Gingerly, so as not to upset her, Nigel broached the subject of her memory and headaches.

"So no headaches in a while, pet?"

"No – not since I started work. That's why I figure if I can get my life completely back to normal, there won't be anymore headaches."

"Painful are they?"

Jordan couldn't begin to describe the pain – it was unbearable. "They are excruciating."

"Jordan, this may be a little presumptuous of me, but do you think the reason that you're not having anymore headaches is because you are too busy to try to make yourself remember your past?"

Jordan shook her head. "It's not that I don't want to remember, Nige…"

"I know that, love, but after you first had your accident, I watched you struggle to try to remember things. Well, not so much things as people. You would try to recognize faces and put them in perspective. Now that your back – and I am so glad you are – you seem content to just let us tell you who folks are. And now you can remember their names. But what you're not remembering is your past with that person. How do they fit into your life? You sometimes ask us, but what you're getting is our interpretation of your relationship with that person – not what truly is your relationship with him. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, sort of…"

"Why aren't you trying anymore?"

"It's not that I don't want to, it's that I can't."

"But the doctor said the when the edema went down…."

"I know what the doctor said," Jordan replied, rather sharply. "But I'm telling you what is happening with me. I can't remember. It's like there's some kind of wall there that is keeping me from remembering…..people, relationships. And when I try to, or I see something that jogs my memories, I get the headaches. And the pain medication doesn't really help, it just makes me sleepy. It's just hurts too much."

Nigel took all this in, turning it over in his mind. "Well, love, I've got to get back to work and I bet Garrett is standing on his head wondering what has happened to you. Let me get you back, okay?" He stood and gently steered Jordan towards the door. At his office, he finally let go of her arm. "Go home. Rest. And don't worry," he said, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead. "It will come back….your memory will come back Jordan."

He watched his friend retreat down the hall to Garrett's office. He knew what had happened to Jordan. He knew better than any doctor or anyone else for that matter. The walls, those walls that Jordan had so carefully constructed to keep people out – to keep them from hurting her or her from hurting them – those walls had finally shut her painful past out, but in returned had trapped her inside her own mind