Disclaimer: I've begged and pleaded. Offered to pay good money for them. But alas, I don't own Crossing Jordan or any of the characters. They belong to Tim Kring…However, if he changes his mind, I hope he calls me first. There would be serious Woody/Jordan activities in store for viewers.

Chapter One

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Jordan looked up at the doorway to her office where he stood, propped up against the entry way.

"I beg your pardon," she asked, trying to look down her nose at him. Truth be known, she had been expecting to be confronted by him all afternoon.

"I asked you, what the hell were you thinking?" He pulled away from the doorway then, coming to stand in front of her. Putting both hands on her desk and leaning in just inches away from her face, he continued. "I want an answer, Jordan. I want an answer now."

"I was there. I reacted. We caught the bad guy. What more do you want?"

"You could have gotten hurt…or worse. Why didn't you stay outside the house until I got there?"

"Because you called me after I was already in there!" she said, raising her voice to match his. They glared at each other for a full minute.

"You could have gone back out the front door and waited for me," he finally said in a quieter tone, crossing his arms and coming around to sit on the edge of her desk, facing her. "When are you going to learn that you aren't a cop? When are you going to start listening to me?"

"I listen to you all the time, Woody."

"I mean, when are you going to start doing what I say once we enter an active crime scene?"

"I'm sorry….I just wanted to get those girls out of the basement."

"And your actions could have gotten them or yourself hurt…or killed. That makes twice in one month you've been shot at Jordan…first at the diner and now this. Does it ever cross your mind that you're the medical examiner and I'm the detective?"

She opened her mouth to speak to him. Then closed it and shut her eyes. They were arguing again. It seemed they were always fighting nowadays. Even though it had been nearly a year since Devan's death, they still were not on the best terms. She had hoped they could resolve their differences…instead the chasm between them only widened. "I just reacted, Woody. That's all."

"And it's going to get you killed one day, Jordan." He stood up and made his way to her door. "If that's the way you're going to be, just reacting and not thinking, I can't have you on anymore of my crime scenes. Sorry, Jo. Don't answer my calls anymore unless you are absolutely the only ME available. You could pose a risk not only to yourself, but to others. Until you learn to think, I don't want to see you on one of my calls. Is that clear?"

She nodded. He walked out and slammed the door behind him.

It's for her own good, it's for her own good, was the litany that chorused its way through his mind as he walked back to his office. If she couldn't think ahead, think clearly, he didn't need her on one of his crime scenes. If she couldn't follow orders, he didn't need her there. She may know her way around a dead body and the morgue, but active crime scenes were a different story. He knew her dad had been a cop and taught her many things. He knew her instincts were excellent.

He also knew she could get herself hurt or killed.

And he knew he would never be able to live with that.

So, to prevent anything from happening…he cut her off from his calls. If she got hurt now, it wouldn't be on his watch. He could still see her…but this was the last way he knew how to protect her from herself…and her knee jerk reactions.

He was more than aware that things were not the same between them…it hadn't been for the last couple of years. First, she had needed space and he gave it to her. Then Devan came….and he needed some time. She gave it to him. Somehow, despite how much he wanted it, they had not been able to reconnect…they were still floundering about in that sea of unresolved sexual tension, neither of them knowing quite how to help the other find the shore.

He knew they needed to talk about it. Underneath it all, so did she. Until they addressed the issue, all they were going to do was fight. And it seemed the lady was ready to duke it out until the final bell. He sighed as he reached his office door….he just didn't know if he had the strength in him to go another round.

He's right, you know, a little voice kept telling her all afternoon. It kept tickling her thoughts…all through her final hours at work and then this evening at home as she tried to get ready for bed. Only it wasn't a little voice any longer. It had grown to be a nagging, belligerent voice with a bellicose tone. She couldn't rest. Finally, throwing on some jeans and a shirt, she did what she knew she should have done this afternoon. She went to apologize to Woody.

It was too late for him to be at his office. And he wasn't answering his cell phone. Driving by his apartment, she spotted his car. Wearily, she took the elevator up to his place. It wasn't too late, just a little past eleven. She hoped he wasn't in bed yet. He answered on the second knock.

"Jordan?" he asked as he opened the door and saw her standing there. She was the last person he expected to see on his stoop at this hour.

"Can I come in?" she asked, somewhat timidly. "I won't be long. I promise." It looked like he was ready for bed…sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Sure…" he said, still a little befuddled at her presence, so late at night.

Going in and turning to face him, she began, "I came to apologize, Woody. You are right. I don't think straight lots of time on a crime scene. All I think about is getting the bad guy…which isn't wrong …I just don't do it the right way. You were right. I need to let you do your job and I do mine. I'm not a policeman, or a detective. You are. I'd get just as upset with you if you tried to do the ME's job.

I'm sorry if I've worried you, or put you or anyone else in a precarious situation. I honestly will try to do better. You may need to remind me, and I promise I will listen…and I understand if you still don't want me on your calls. I don't have a very good track record with you professionally or otherwise. I just….came to apologize. I'm sorry, Woody."

He walked over to her, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. "When have you ever listened to me? How do I know you really mean it?"

"Give me another chance….I'll prove it to you. It's just….this case…Flora….the other girls….I wasn't seeing straight….and I don't think you were either," she said, referring to the child prostitution case they had solved earlier to day. Every ME, every detective had cases that got them worked up beyond reason. For Jordan and Woody, child abuse cases were their "hot button." Both of them had worked endless hours and sleepless nights trying to solve that case. The girls that had been kidnapped were reunited with their parents today. Jordan had been there when Flora's parents landed at the airport for their daughter. It had been difficult for Jordan to give the young girl up. If her parents hadn't been located, Jordan seriously was thinking about taking Flora herself.

And Woody knew this. Deep down inside, despite the fact that Jordan had said nothing to him about it, he knew that was where she was heading. During the past few days, he had seen a side of Jordan had had never seen before … a rather maternal one… although it could have been chalked up to compassion…He knew otherwise…Jordan would one day make a terrific mother.

His shoulders suddenly sagged and he looked at his carpet. "I know…I wasn't reacting rationally, either. I guess we both sort of pushed the professional boundaries with this one. I keep asking myself if there wasn't more I could have done."

Jordan was momentarily shocked. Woody had worked like the devil himself was breathing down his Boston PD neck. "Woody, you did good work. You caught the guy in record time…ran down these girls' parents…..what more could you ask?"

"That I knew about it months ago…that I had been made aware of a child prostitution ring a year ago."

"The last time I looked, there was no big, red 'S' on your chest, detective. You're not Superman. You didn't know until you were made aware of it…and then you reacted quickly and professionally. You caught the guy dead to rights….he's going away for a long time, the families have their daughters back….what else is there?"

"Boston's my city now, Jo. I should have known about this….months ago."

"Woody, you're beating yourself up over things you had no control over…."

"Yeah…I know you're right…" to her complete amazement, she heard his voice break, "I just wish I could have done something more…nothing…no one….is going to be able to give these girls back their innocence…their ability to trust anyone again, especially men. I mean, Flora wouldn't let me near her…and I'm the good guy."

He looked so utterly defeated that Jordan didn't think twice. Gently, she put her arms around him and held him. "Woody…it's not your fault…you did something about it as soon as you knew…" She led him over to the couch and sat down with him, still holding him. She just sat with him there for long minutes gently stroking his back and his hair…somehow trying to comfort him the same way had done her a myriad of times. Finally, pulling away and cradling his head in her hands, she wiped away a stray tear from his eyes with the pad of her thumb. "You did good, detective. Don't you ever forget it. You made a dozen sets of parents deliriously happy today and saved just as many girls. And you did it in record time. Even Rene' Walcott is singing your praises."

He nodded. "You just wish this kind of thing never happened…that there was no demand for stuff like this."

"I agree…totally. But you've cut off one source of the supply. Maybe this will scare some others involved…"

Woody's clock chimed midnight, startling both of them. "Oh…it's late. I guess I should go now and let you get some rest," Jordan said, beginning to get up from the couch.

Woody tightened his grip on her hands… "Don't. I mean…would you stay awhile longer…I really don't want to be alone…I promise, no hanky panky," he said with a weak grin, "I just really don't want to be by myself right now."

Remembering the times he had stayed with her…by her…she consented. "Sure. If it will make you feel better…I'd be glad to.