~~~ Lots more to come! Just an idea that wouldn't let me go. Ahh...I know nothing really about the Witness Protection Program, so I'm sure I've gotten things wrong. Sorry sorry. Same goes for anything wrong with the geography - I'm not American, so I dunno. This fic will not be set in the past, but I need to start it there. Hope you enjoy! ~~~

So long ago that now it seemed almost like a strange dream, "JJ" wasn't short for Jennifer Jareau but for Jenna Jakob.

Jenna Jakob was very much a tomboy. While a young child, she wore a messy blonde bob and had the most fun playing football or soccer. When she was eight years old one boy, a James Ledger Junior who also went by JJ, informed Jenna Jakob that JJ was a boy's nickname and she shouldn't use it. Jenna Jakob responded by punching him in the nose and telling him that JJ wasa girl's nickname and furthermore, even if it wasn't, she was obviously more masculine than he. After that day, no one ever called James Ledger Junior "JJ" again.

Jenna Jakob and her family lived in the bustling downtown area of Seattle, Washington. Jenna had two older siblings; a brother, Harry, who was seven years older than her and a sister, Corrie, who was five years older. Corrie's real name was Cornelia, but no one called her that, to such an extent that Jenna Jakob wasn't even aware of her sister's full name until she was nearly nine. Both siblings shared Jenna's blonde hair, blue eyes, and nose. They all took after their mother.

One day when Jenna was ten she had to stay after school and suffer a detention. She'd gotten in trouble after throwing a tennis ball across the room and shattering a ceiling light. The teacher told her that she'd need to get money from her parents to fix it, and Jenna was quite worried.

While that was going on, Corrie Jakob, already home from the local high school which ended fifteen minutes before Jenna's elementary school, was sitting at the window in the living room. She had her back against the wall and her book against her leg, and looked up when she heard the loud gunning of an engine.

Home alone - her parents at work, Harry at rugby practice - the fifteen year-old Corrie watched, aghast, as a burly man jumped out of the car, ran across the lawn of the house across the street from her, and banged on the door loudly. A young woman came out of the house - Wendy Poore, who Corrie often saw and said hello to - and began arguing with him. There were shouted words which Corrie couldn't quite make out, and then the frightening man slapped Ms. Poore. Corrie gasped, not sure what to do, and then before she could do anything the man extracted a gun from the inside of his coat and shot Ms. Poore twice, in the head.

Corrie's book tumbled to the floor as she jumped from the window and the man calmly made his way back to his car. Their eyes caught for just a second, and Corrie's heart stopped, sure he would come after her too. But he only smirked and continued on his way, the engine roaring just as loud the second time as it had the first. Corrie watched his car drive away and then ran to the phone, dialling her father's work number.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed, hysterical, when he finally picked up, "Some man just came and shot Ms. Poore across the street and I don't know what to do and she's dead I'm sure of it and he saw me, Daddy he saw me -!"

In the end, this was what mattered.

After the police had been contacted, the Jakob family was informed that Corrie was the soul witness to the murder of Wendy Poore, a woman rescued from sexual slavery two months prior. The man who had killed her was the leader of the horrific gang of men and even some women, who tricked girls into coming with them for a better life and instead sold them for sex. The police knew of them but were never able to pin them down in court. Until now. With Corrie's testimony, they could finally begin to break down the lethal gang, who would either murder, pay off, or abduct anyone who dared to challenge them.

What this also meant, of course, was that Corrie Jakob was in great danger. She'd have to be entered into the Witness Protection Program immediately - and, as she was just a child, so would the rest of her family.

Corrie was able to identify the man through pictures the police already had. He was brought in for Wendy Poore's murder, tried, and due almost solely to Corrie's testimony, found guilty. Then Corrie Jakob was lead from court, ushered into a waiting car, and all trace of her ended abruptly.

In the weeks leading up to the trial, Mr. and Mrs. Jakob resigned from their jobs. They told their friends that they had inherited some money and were moving to France for the rest of the year, something they'd always wanted to do, especially since Mrs. Jakob's father lived there (this was true - he was a Parisian university professor). The bilingual Mrs. Jakob would secure a job, Mr. Jakob would take a year off to contemplate his future career, and the kids would benefit from the French language, food, and culture. It was a grand tale, and as far as Jenna Jakob knew, it was the truth.

To their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Jakob told a different story. They would be given new identities, placed in a new state, and only be able to contact their parents by secured telephone lines and letters sent through safe links. Paying the school for a shattered light bulb was the least of their concerns.

One Saturday morning, all the Jakob furniture was sent away in a moving van ("To be put in a storage facility until our return from France,") and the Jakob family members stood in their empty home, two suitcases each, waiting.

When the knock on the door came, they got in a car and were taken to a secured building. They stayed there for two days, and when Jenna Jakob asked her mother about the trip to France, her mother shook her head sadly and replied, "No, Jenna, things are going to go a bit differently."

Things were to go extremely differently. Each family member was given a new name, a new social security number, a new birth certificate, a new passport, and - for the over sixteen Jakobs - new driver's licenses. The Jakobs became the Jareaus. Jenna became Jennifer, Corrie became Cassandra, Harry became Harvey. They were told never to call one another their former names ever again. They had been given names close to their originals, so as not to forget. Jenna could still be JJ, or Jen. Corrie could be called Cassie. Harry and Harvey weren't so far off in sound. They were not to contact any old friends, and family could only be contacted via their US Marshal. They were going to be moved to a new home, the kids enrolled in new schools, and they would receive money, but Mr. and Mrs. Jakob were going to eventually have to find jobs - without any referrals. When asked, they were to say they came from Washington DC, and that they had wanted to move to a smaller place.

And what a small place it was. After leaving the secured building, the Jakob - now Jareau - family were placed on a private jet, which took them to the next state over. From there, they boarded a plane which flew to Pennsylvania. Eventually they arrived in an essential "Smalltown USA". As furniture - their furniture - was moved into their new home, people came to watch and whisper. A few kids called out to Jenna, but she didn't respond.

"Don't talk to anyone," her father had warned, "Until you're able to call yourself Jennifer, call your sister Cassie, and call your brother Harvey. Understand?"

On that day, Jenna Jakob was still very confused.

But a week later, ready for the first day of fifth grade in her new school, a different JJ emerged. This school spanned more grades than her other one - kindergarten to grade eight, instead of grade six - but had a tinier population nonetheless. Her sister and brother walked her there, and when they reached the yard her brother reminded her quietly what her name was.

When she entered the class and the teacher invited her to introduce herself, she turned to the group of ten year-olds and said, "I'm Jennifer Jareau - but you can call me JJ."