Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Crossing Jordan or its characters- they're Tim Kring's... though right now I'm wishing we could comfiscate them.
A/N: I know I have an outstanding chapter I need to finish in another story, but I am finding it hard to write right now due to the tension going on in CJ-land. So this was my therapy... My take/guess/whatever of the final moments of this season.
Enjoy.
Woody sat at his desk, his fingers raking through the spikes of his hair. His eyes were bloodshot and stung like mad, but still he wouldn't drag them from the papers in front of him. Even though he'd been pulled from the case due to a "conflict of interests" he refused to go home, at least not until he could prove Jordan's innocence.
-32 Hours Before-
Woody looked down at the caller id on his cell before flipping it open. "Jordan" it read. This was the first time she'd called him in weeks, since she had discovered his relationship with Lu.
"Jordan. Hi," he answered a bit hesitantly.
Jordan's voice came back to him in a panicked tone, her words forming only jumbled heaps. Finally he was able to make out the words "Pollack", "shot", "dead", and "my place".
"Stay put. I'm on my way."
When Woody and the other detectives arrived they found Jordan sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, and her head resting on her knees. Across the room lay the body of Pollack lying in a pool of blood. A gunshot wound pierced his chest, and his eyes were fixed in the stare of death. The other detectives began their work of processing the crime scene, and Woody sank down to the floor beside Jordan.
"You okay?"
"Oh, me? Yeah, sure, never better," she said sarcastically, though her expression remained somber. "I go out for a jog after work, and I come home and find my ex-boyfriend shot to death in my apartment. Life is grand."
"Did you know he was back in town?" Woody asked, resting his hand on her arm.
"Not a clue. Last I'd heard from him he was still in D.C," her eyes remained focused on nothing, and her behavior was beginning to worry Woody.
"Jor, you don't look like you're doing so well," his voice was laced with concern and his eyes searched her face. "Look, I know how close you two had gotten, and I'm sure this is very hard to handle right now, but we'll find out who did this… believe me," he smiled sadly at her.
"I hope so, Woody. Despite how things turned out between us he was a good man. I just wanted him to be happy…" she let the rest of her thoughts trail off.
"I know you did, Jo," he told her, moving his hand to rub small circles on her back.
Jordan turned her face towards him, her honey colored eyes held his. She lowered her voice so that he had to strain to hear her over the voices of the others in the room.
"Woody, my gun – it's missing. When I came home and found J.D…. I don't know, I guess I thought that he may have come to talk to me and scared an intruder or something… I went to get my gun, just to be on the safe side," Woody nodded his head in understanding. "It wasn't there. It's gone."
Woody stared into her panicked eyes. "Jordan, what are you saying?" he whispered.
"I think someone is trying to frame me."
The alarm on his wristwatch beeped three times, signaling the arrival of yet another hour. He glanced down at it, 3:00am. He closed his eyes momentarily and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
None of this made any sense. Jordan had gotten home from work at 5pm- everything was normal, she'd told him. She'd decided it would be a nice day for a long run, so she changed her clothes and headed out for good eight miles. She'd run along the boardwalk like they'd always done. Yes, many people probably saw her, but people rarely pay attention to passing joggers enough to give a decent description of them- let alone an alibi. When she'd returned home a bit over an hour later, she'd found Pollack dead- with no signs of forced entry, and her gun mysteriously missing.
If this were just some case, he'd say it was open and shut. Ex-boyfriend comes back to ex-girlfriend's home, they have an argument, it escalates, someone pulls a gun, someone shoots, someone ends up dead, and someone panics and ditches the murder weapon.
But this wasn't just another case. This was Jordan. Sure, she had a temper. She was definitely capable of kicking a guy in the cahones, but killing him? No. Woody was willing to bet his life on it.
A faint knock roused Woody from his thoughts. He glanced up and found Lu standing in his doorframe.
"Can I come in for a minute?"
"Sure," he said, the fatigue he felt was apparent in his voice as well.
"You haven't gone home?" she asked, eying his wrinkled clothing – the same clothes he had put on the morning before.
"No, I can't…. I have to figure this out. I know Jordan didn't have anything to do with this, but whoever did it, well, they wanted to make sure that it looked like she did."
Lu walked over to his desk, and perched herself on the corner of it. She placed a hand atop of his shoulder. "Woody, we're working on it. The chief pulled you from the case for a reason…"
Woody glared up at her, "I don't give a damn who pulled me off the case."
Lu stood and walked to the opposite side of his desk. She dropped into a chair and sighed. "How's Jordan?" she inquired.
"Okay, I suppose, for the circumstances. Dr. Macy won't let her have a thing to do with the case as well- sent her home, told her she needed a few days off. I drove her over to her dad's old place. She couldn't stay at her apartment."
"When was the last time you talked with her?"
"I don't know… probably around 10 last night. I called to check on her," Woody's eyes suddenly flickered with realization. "Why?"
Lu leaned back in her chair and folded her arms in front of her chest. "We can't find her."
"And why, exactly, are you looking for her?" his voice hardening by the second.
Lu stood, and leaned over, placing her palms down on Woody's desk. "We found her gun, in a dumpster a few blocks from her apartment. Ballistics checked it out. It was the murder weapon," she paused. "There are no prints on it, except for Jordan's."
"Why didn't anyone," he fixed his eyes angrily on hers as he rose from his chair, "bother to tell me this?"
"Woody, it's nothing personal," she started. "We were told to keep it hush-hush," she smiled faintly, "especially from you. Apparently you have a history of getting Jordan out of scrapes."
"Well you're right," his voice rising. "I have gotten Jordan out of some nasty situations over the years, in all of which, I'll have you know, she's been the innocent party! And this time is no different!"
Lu balked for a moment at his reaction, before quickly regaining her footing. "We have a warrant for her arrest," she said evenly. "We need to know where she is. We've been to her dad's house, we've been to Pearle Street, we've been to the morgue. We can't find her. You're the last one who spoke with her. You two have a history," she finished.
"What, so they sent you in here to use our relationship to see if you could get me to tell you where else you might find her? Is that it!" He rounded his desk, grabbed his jacket and keys and started for the door.
"Woody," Lu said evenly. "If you help her run you could be charged as aiding and abetting. It could cost you your badge."
Woody turned, his eyes burned fiercely. "Some things are more important than jobs," he said coldly before striding out the door.
Jordan sat on a bench listening to the waves as they gently rippled to the shore. Only the darkness of the night surrounded her, though the horizon over the sea was beginning to turn a dark blue, the promise that the sun would be rising shortly for the beginning of a new day.
She turned at the sound of the gravel crunching underneath approaching footsteps. Even in the dim pre-dawn light she recognized his form.
"Hey," Woody said as he sat down beside her. "I thought I might find you here."
"Hmph… Well, apparently, you know me too well," her face turned back to towards the water.
"No such thing, Jordan." He reached out his hand and hesitated slightly before resting it gently on her knee, and was surprised when she didn't pull away.
They sat in silence for a few forever seconds, content to just listen to the waves and pretend that what was happening really wasn't happening.
"They have a warrant for your arrest, Jor," Woody finally half-whispered.
Jordan let out a derisive laugh. "Figures." She turned to Woody. "So, are you here to arrest me?" she asked, her voice bearing an edge. "You gonna read me my rights again?"
Woody shook his head. "No, Jordan, no. I'm not going to arrest you." He turned fully toward her. "They came to me and told me they had a warrant, told me they couldn't find you, they asked me if I might have any idea where you'd be, and I…." he paused, "Jordan, I've been going over this in my head non-stop since you called me. Someone wants you to go down for this. I don't know who or why, but I do know that whomever it is, well, they're good. They covered their tracks. No prints, no witnesses, nothing." He let out a sigh of frustration. "And then I started thinking that if you go to trial and somehow are found innocent… Let's just say, I don't think they'd like that," he finished and laid his arm upon hers. "Jo," his eyes focused on hers trying to show her the desperateness of the situation, "you're not safe here. Either you're going to rot in prison for a crime I know you didn't commit, or they're going to kill you." A sad smile stole across his lips, "And I can't live with either or those options."
Jordan nodded slowly, taking in the full weight of what Woody had just said. "Yeah, I kind of came to the same conclusion a few hours ago," she said sadly. "Since then, I've just been sitting here, thinking, you know…"
Woody could see the tears forming in her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms, but he had given up that right a few months ago.
"I've spent the majority of my life running," she continued, "from one thing or another. And just now when I've finally come to accept this place as home, this happens," her voice wavered. "Apart from my dad, everything and everyone I know and love is here in Boston," she bit at her lower lip. "Garret, Lily, Nige, Bug…" her whiskey colored eyes pierced his heart, "you…. You've all become my family," a single tear fell onto her cheek. "In the past I've never really understood why people have a hard time leaving home, but now…" her voice faltered and, being unable to hold Woody's sad gaze any longer, she dropped her head.
Woody's heart broke for her. There had been a time he'd thought he'd never be able to find a place to call home, that is, until he came here; until he met Jordan, until he fell in love over and over again with this wonderful, stubborn woman, until she found him and told him exactly where home was.
He reached out, his index finger catching her under her chin, and raised her face up again. The wind blew at her dark curls, and the last of the moons lingering rays bathed her face in an iridescent light.
"You'll be back, Jordan. We're going to find these bastards who are doing this, and then you'll be free to come home." His thumb swept a tear from her cheek. "I promise you, Jo, I'm not going to let them get away with this. I'll find a way to get you home."
Jordan smiled cheerlessly.
Woody reached inside his jacket and withdrew a small manila envelope, and placed it into Jordan's hands.
"At the end of the pier there's an accountant's office, behind it in the parking lot is a blue car. The license plates are clean, and untraceable, at least to anyone we know. The key is inside this envelope, along with a new driver's license, a passport, a social security card, and enough cash to get you where you're going."
Jordan opened the envelope and, one by one, looked at the items, which appeared quite convincing. "Where did you…?"
Woody smiled, "Garth Brooks ain't the only one with friends in low places."
Jordan laughed and a genuine smile spread across her face. "Nigel, huh?" she guessed.
"Ouch! That hurts Jordan. You thinking that Nigel is the dirtiest scoundrel I know."
"Scoundrel, eh?" Jordan raised her eyebrow at him. "Yeah, I can tell you really run with the wrong crowd."
Woody shrugged and rolled his eyes. "What can I say? I'm a bad boy."
But Jordan was only half listening as she stared at the stack of bills in her hands. "Woody, there's got to be several thousand dollars here," she said disbelievingly.
"Yeah, somewhere around there, I suppose," he hedged.
Jordan looked up at him, trying to search his eyes for the answer to the question she was silently asking, but he turned his head.
"Woody," she breathed. "No, I can't take this."
"Stop! Jordan, just stop!" he plead. "That money will buy your safety," his blue eyes moved up to find hers as he brushed a stray hair off of her face, "and I can't think of anything I want more than that. Besides," he added with a smirk, "it's not the first time I've emptied my bank account for you, and I somehow doubt it will be the last."
Jordan felt a new set of tears form. She couldn't believe after all they'd been through together, all of the times they'd hurt each other, and after this emotionally intense year, that her self-sacrificing farm boy would once again don his white knight armor and come to her rescue.
"I don't know what to say, Woody."
"Just promise me two things. First, that you'll be safe. Don't do anything stupid, Jordan," he said, his expression growing stern. "And second," he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a cell phone, "that you'll call me every once in awhile, let me know how you're doing… that you're safe and not doing anything stupid." He grinned and handed her the phone. "It's a pre-paid disposable phone. I'm the only one who knows about it. I got myself one too," he showed her a second, identical, phone. "Just hit 1 on the speed dial and you'll reach me. Just don't use it for anything else," he cautioned.
"I promise," Jordan pledged with a rueful smile as she slipped the phone into her pocket. She wrapped her arms around him, and felt his arms tighten as he pulled her into his chest. She tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes, begging the tears not to fall. "Thank you," she whispered.
Woody held her for a moment more before dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. "You should be going," he told her as they pulled apart, "before it gets light."
"You're right," she murmured, as they gathered their things and stood. "Woody," Jordan queried, "you know if you get caught helping me you'll lose your badge?"
Woody smiled slightly, and nodded. "Like I told someone else earlier tonight, 'some things are more important than a job.'"
"Lu?" Jordan asked, suddenly become aware of all that had transpired that night.
"Yeah," he answered, hoping that she could understand in that simple word how sorry he was for all the pain he had caused her over the past few months and how he prayed someday she could forgive him for being such a pompous ass.
Jordan smiled crookedly up at him. "Well," she said hesitantly, "I guess this is..."
"Don't say it, Jo," Woody interjected. "It's not goodbye." He reached out and placed his palm along the side of her cheek. "We'll fix this. We'll see each other again. No goodbyes. Only 'see you around's."
Jordan's hand moved upward until it lay on Woody's. She nodded, unable to trust her voice with words any longer. She took his hand in hers, pulled it from her cheek and to her lips, placing a kiss in the palm of his hand.
"See you around," she whispered, her eyes shining with moisture, before turning and walking away.
Woody watched her for a moment, and with each step she took he could feel his heart breaking a little bit more. "Jordan!" he called out softly. She turned. "Don't forget," he said, "Home's right behind you."
Jordan smiled at him and raised her hand in a small wave before turning reluctantly to begin her journey that would, hopefully, bring her back here, right where she belonged.