Disclaimer;; No matter how much I like to believe it, I DO NOT own any characters of Crossing Jordan, Nor do I own the lyrics to 'I Will Survive' by Stephanie Bentley.
Author's Note: This is sort of a long OneShot, but splitting it up would make absolutely no sense. Anyhow, I hope you'll like it, and if you have any tips of comments, just hit the delightful button! Thanks!
I Will Survive
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock. The clock that hung on Jordan's wall counted the seconds as she watched, willing it to go faster. The whiskey-eyed brunette sat at her desk in the near-empty morgue, impatiently waiting for the time when she could clock out and head to her favorite place. It was 5:56 p.m., most of the morgue employees had either already left, or else retreated to their offices. It had been a hard day. Within the first hour that she was in that morning, she'd already had a double-homicide lined up as well as another call about 30 minutes later. When she finally did get a moment's rest, Garrett popped in a reminded her to do her paperwork, which was in neglected stacks on her desk. That had taken a few hours, making her miss lunch, and forcing her to steal the last cold donut to fill her stomach up. After she'd finished the paperwork and downed the donut, she sat back in her office and relaxed. She had hoped that it would be a rather peaceful afternoon. Earlier that week, she and Woody had decided to have a movie-fest at her apartment. All was well until they were deciding what movie to watch and had started arguing. The argument escalated in to a full blown shout-match, and Woody had stormed out, saying some really hurtful things as he walked out. He's said things like, "There will never be a time when I'll get along with you," and "Now I truly know that a person can fall OUT of love!" The last comment left Jordan speechless as well as motionless. She jumped as he slammed the door behind himself. She simply got up and went straight to her bed, and though she used as many blankets and sheets as possible, she felt as if she were in the artic. All throughout her sleep, her mind replayed Woody's words. She woke at 2 AM and couldn't get back to sleep.
Throughout the next day, she'd try to find a way to chase the thoughts from her head, keeping herself busy, though it was tiring. She almost succeeded in chasing the memory away completely until Woody came walking into the morgue. They made eye contact and her knees buckled, causing her to land in a heap upon the floor. Garrett was standing with her at the time, and luckily, she could pass it off as the high-heeled boots she was wearing. She was pretty sure that Garrett hadn't believed her and had made the connection between Woody's arrival and her downfall. Nevertheless, he had chosen not to say anything, sparing her the humiliation and pain. She'd gotten through the rest of the hellacious day just by a thread, and was now waiting to make it down to a new bar she'd just staked out so that she could drown herself in alcohol and call a cab home. Finally the time came when she could clock out. 6:00 p.m. She practically jumped from her desk and out the door. She clocked out, tossing her hand up as a farewell to Nigel through the window in his office.
It took her about 10 minutes to get to that bar, it was relatively close to the morgue. It was an old-style Irish pub with large oak doors and heavy brass handles. She pulled open the door, making a beeline for an empty stool away from everybody. She ordered a Sam Adams to start with, planning to eventually make her way through the different beers and alcohol. It was only after 3 beers that she got to thinking about all the things that had gone wrong for her. It had to have started in her childhood with her mother's murder. I scarred her dramatically and it wasn't something she could get away from. However, if it hadn't been for her mother's murder and her father's law enforcement career, she probably wouldn't have the drive to go into law enforcement or criminal investigations at all.
Done a lot of things that I'm not so proud of. Jordan could remember as a kid, growing up after her mom's murder. She could remember all the nights she came home and sobbed because she couldn't take her mom to mother-daughter day at school. She couldn't explain to her classmates where her mom was. She had a lot of questions that a teenager could only ask her mom, and she had nowhere to go with them. There were some kids that avoided her specifically because they had heard something or other about her mom running off with the milk man. Parents looked sympathetically at her and talked in hushed tones when she wished that they'd all just forget it happened.
Took a lot of turns, that turned out wrong.
That's a worn out song.
Day by day, moment by moment.
Takin' my chances, trustin' my heart.
It wasn't too smart.
There were times when she'd come home and ask her dad if they could move out of town that night. He'd ask her why and she'd just say, "Never mind," and walk away. When she hit 14, she began learning from her father about what little forensics there were then and how much they could grow in a few years. She vowed to herself soon afterwards that she' d learn as much about investigations and forensics as possible, and that she'd find out what happened to her mom. She knew that her father wouldn't pursue it at all; He didn't have the heart anymore. She had the heart. She had ambition, rage, and a yearning for justice. She knew that if her mother's murder was going to be given justice, then it was up to her to give it justice.
Lonely, and lost as I could be.
Knowing it's up to me.
Jordan sat up from her alcohol-induced flashbacks of hard times in her childhood, feeling a slight mix of emotions that could either be more alcohol-induced, or coming from her reverie a moment ago. She felt disappointed in herself, angry with her father, and depressed with almost everything. She didn't want to feel sorry for herself at all; She wanted to make herself shut out everything that she was clinging on to; Everything that was holding her back.
Sitting at the bar, swigging another sip of her beer, Jordan finally determined the best way to get over all of this. After all the sitting, thinking, and drinking, she knew what she had to do. She had to clear all of her problems and depend on her strength to get her through. The only way to clear her mother's murder from her mind was to remind herself that it was over. It was done and she couldn't do anything about it. It took a while, and a few more beers, to do this, but with the last bit of effort she had, she made herself believe that it was over. There was only a small part of her that still was left fighting. She didn't know how long the feeling would last, but for the moment, she didn't care. All she knew was that, even if only for one night, she'd survive her problems and forget her fears. She wouldn't give a damn, even if it was in an intoxicated state.
I will survive
I will endure
When the goin's rough
you can be sure
I'll tough it out
I won't give in
If I'm knocked down I'll get up again
As long as my dreams alive, I will survive
The next big problem that came to mind was her job. She loved her job, no doubt about it, but there where times when she felt like breaking down in the middle of the lobby. Part of the danger was due to the fact that she was so ambitious and seemingly fearless. She'd go after anybody if it meant serving them justice. There were many times when this got her into trouble. The experience with Digger was enough to make any regular person crack. When she'd gone after the boys who'd gone missing and ended up missing with them, she'd been scared to death. She didn't know if she'd ever get to do or see anything she loved again. She never knew if it was her last moment, or just another day on the job.
She did have a bad habit which almost always led her into confusion, trouble, or even anger. Each time something went wrong, there was always this tiny part inside of her that wanted, no, needed for things to be better. She craved for a happy ending and better days. She thought that if she just stuck it out, if she just made it through the crap, that eventually the time would come when she wouldn't have to worry about arguing with Woody, staying out of danger, or even finding her car keys in the morning. This was a delusion that she had, and it often made trouble for her. It was almost as if she had high hopes for the future, and each time things got worse, her hopes fell a bit more. She felt disappointed in herself, her family, and her relationships. They never seemed to live up to her expectations. Though she told herself and others that she had no high expectations for life that she could live with her problems, but each time she said that, a small fraction of her head screamed that she was lying.
She knew the only way to avoid her job was to quit, but she wouldn't do that. As much as she hated some days, she refused to quit. It was almost as if someone was telling her she HAD to quit, like it was a rule. Jordan hated rules. If a sign told her to go one way, she'd go the opposite, just because she could. It was a sort of superiority complex that said, "Hah. I'm not going to do that, and you can't make me." She quickly noticed that there wasn't a way to resolve her bad habit of having high expectations. A last resort would be to lose all inhibitions, but there was no way she'd ever do that. She could get low, but not that low. She had to have some sort of priority or code to live by, whether it be to justify her mom, finally gain courage to express true love towards Woody, or even just scare the shit out of Garrett one Halloween. She had to have some reason to keep up life. She needed a fuel for her strength.
Letting' go of my bad habits.
Hangin' on the hope for better times.
I'll be fine. Learnin' to sleep in the bed that I made.
Laying the blanket where it belongs.
I've gotta be strong.
Jordan finished her 4th beer, still mostly sober. She'd grown a tolerance for alcohol. It took quite a bit to get her slammed and drunk. She cradled her forehead in her palm, feeling an intense migraine coming. It was probably the sweltering cigarette smoke; since she'd given up smoking, the smell of it made her want to puke. She inhaled, only to exhale coughing and hacking. She swatted at the smoke with her right hand and raised her left to signal the bartender to send another beer her way. The bartender, a husky-voiced bald man with a red mustache looked concerned. "Are you sure you can take another, little lady?" Jordan looked up at him with annoyance and scorn. "Call me little lady again and I'll take another to your face," She eyed him, as if daring him to say anything back. "Okay..here." He handed her another cold beer and walked down to the other end of the bar, looking over his shoulder the whole time. Jordan stifled a small smile and took a sip of the new beer.
After a moment, she fell into a sort of solemn trance. She felt as if her chest was sinking into her stomach as her thoughts began to wonder over to the one subject that had to have made the majority of her adult life hell. The funny, dreamy-eyed, almost perfect, Detective Woody Hoyt. She could visualize from memory his features; his brown hair, deep blue eyes that made a girl want to collapse, his soft smile, and that adorable way he winked at her. It was like half a wink and half a grin. Jordan's vision blurred slightly, tears slightly spilling over her eyes. She swiped at them angrily, determined not to cry in a bar. Her mind ran through all the good and bad memories they had made. She missed the times when they would sit up all night, watching a pointless movie and tossing popcorn at each other. She loved the way he would automatically put his arms around her when she jumped at something. She missed how he could tell when she was cold, and he'd snuggle her closer to him. What she missed the most was when the sat together all snuggle and warm, they both were perfectly comfortable. They were both so happy just sitting like that. Another moment passed and Jordan felt a warm tear roll down her cheek. Well, so much for not crying in the bar.
Tear drops no one sees but me.
I won't stop, I'll always believe.
Jordan wiped her tears again, picking her head up and taking a swig of beer. There was no way around it. There was no way to clear Woody from her life. She couldn't just stay away form him. She basically worked with him everyday. She'd tried many times before to leave him and never give him another thought, but she just couldn't do it. Her head told her to let him go, but her heart told her never to leave him. Even if she did quit her job and leave town, she'd still find ways to remember him. She'd hear his favorite song or see a car that was the same model as his, and she'd never get away. Jordan dropped her head back down in despair. It was either live happily together, or don't live together at all.
Jordan's head pulled up quickly. She couldn't live without Woody, so why not try to make it better by accepting Woody and making things better between them? Jordan put her half-finished beer down and slammed some money on the counter. She walked out quickly, heading to her car. She revved it up and took off to the one place she hoped she could set things right. It took her less than five minutes to reach his apartment; she knew the way by heart. She pulled in on the curb, turning the car off and grabbing her keys. She waited on the elevator, tapping her foot the entire time. It seemed like an hour before it finally made its way down to the ground-level. Jordan hastily walked in, pressing his floor number and the 'door close' button. The doors closed quickly and began making their way back up to Woody's level. Jordan stared at the counter…..4,5,6,7,8,9….FINALLY! floor number 10. She almost sprinted out, heading straight to his door. She hesitated, but finally knocked.
I will survive
I will endure
When the goin's rough
You can be sure
I'll tough it out
I won't give in
If I'm knocked down I'll get up again
As long as my dreams alive
I will survive, yeah!
With her stomach churning and her breathing becoming quicker, she waited. She could faintly hear his footsteps coming to the door…….closer, closer, until they stopped. He opened the door, he in his boxers and t-shirt and his hair all messed up. It took everything she had for Jordan not to stare into his eyes for a while. "Hey," Jordan muttered quickly. Woody rubbed his eyes and held open his door. She could tell it was more a force-of-habit thing than a regretful thing. She stepped in, getting quickly to the point. "Woody, I've been thinking about a lot of things within the last hour and a half. I'm sorry for arguing with you. I'm sorry for never telling you that I loved you; I do love you. I'm sorry for all the things I was scared to do with you," Woody opened his mouth, but she continued, "And I want to make things right; I want to make things better. I miss the way we used to be: sitting around watching movies and having popcorn fights. I miss the way I could sit with you and lay my head on your chest, and I could just fall asleep there. I miss your warmth, your voice, your smile. I miss you Woody, and I miss us." Woody stared at her for a moment.
As long as my dreams alive
I will survive
I will endure
When the goin's rough
you can be sure
I'll tough it out
I won't give in
If I'm knocked down I'll get up again
As long as my dreams alive
I will survive
He opened his mouth, his voice cracked, but then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for hurting you like I did; like I have in the past. You don't know how much I hate it when I see that look you get when you're disappointed or sad. I get so arrogant, and some crazy voice in my head tells me that I'm angry at you, but I know it's lying. I'm angry at myself. I'm angry for not telling you I loved you every day. I'm angry because I've hurt you so many times." Woody looked down at the floor, then back up into her eyes.
The two of them stared at each other for a moment, not moving and hardly breathing. Woody held out his hand to her, his eyes still locked on hers. "I want to start a new journey. I want to begin a new path that only we can travel. I want us to finish that path from beginning to end….together. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh, will you start a new journey with me?" Jordan slowly raised her hand and finally slid it into his. He pulled her toward him, into his warm embrace. Right at that moment, Jordan knew how to survive all her problems. She'd survive them all with him.