A/N I apologize for this, I really should be typing up the last bit of Watchdog, but this has been bugging me to write it for ages. And now that I finally have a plot for it, I must write it, it won't let me write anything else! Ignore what author alerts tell you, it took me writing this to get a title for it, but it now has one.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up straight. Something was very wrong. He had known it from the start, from the time she had shown up he had known something was wrong. He knew she wouldn't keep her promise not to come here so he had waited until she had turned the corner of his street to get into his own car and follow her.
He'd called Bug and Nigel from the car, telling them to call Framus, or Santana, or whoever it was on duty and tell them to get their ass down here. There was something eerie and foreboding about the whole area. The late night fog didn't add to the areas aurora either.
He got out of his car, suppressing a shiver, both from the late fall cold and the general creepiness of the place. It felt like something out of a bad horror film, here he was, was he the good guy, or was he going to be the hapless victim? The one who rushes in despite the audience telling him not to only to get killed?
It didn't matter, she was here, her battered old El Camino was parked next to him, and she wasn't in it. He couldn't let anything happen to her. He tried to protect her from everything under normal circumstances, but that she was here because of him...he refused to let her get hurt because of him, because of something he had done, because he had been an idiot.
And she was in her "damn the world" mood, she wouldn't be thinking clearly. She was in that not caring, who gives a damn if I get hurt mood. But he gave a damn, he was no Rhett Butler, he cared, he couldn't stand to see her get hurt. She was already hurt enough emotionally, he couldn't bear to see her hurt physically.
He climbed the metal stairs to the door, keeping a steadying hand on the railing to not slip on the wet surface. He stood outside the door, not wanting to go in and risk getting her hurt. He couldn't bear to think about her getting hurt because of him, she was already risking her life for him.
He usually wrote off bad feelings as just being nervous, superstitious, but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was going to go down in there, he just hoped it was whoever it was that she had chased down here. A gunshot rang out and he all but dove through the door. "Jordan!" He called into the silence, praying to every deity he could think of that she was alright.
