Disclaimer: Again, can't say I own the characters, nor anything remotely pertaining to Crossing Jordan, unless the soundtrack counts. Yep, this is for my sheer mindless amusement; no pain, no gain.

Note: You could see this as a companion piece to Senseless, basically the sequel. But you don't have to read the other to enjoy this. Do tell me if it's any good… better yet, tell me if it isn't. Ooh and I had a change of heart after I posted Senseless. I altered that one's ending a bit… nothing big, but the significance of the model airplane is now that much more meaningful. I love when my muse makes connections, even when they're late in coming. :)

Mindless

By Shadowfax

Bubble baths are complex in their simplicity.

Sea salts to soothe tired, achy muscles, some scented bubble stuff for fluff... a bath is like a little piece of heaven on earth. Reality can simply melt away in a flood of steaming, soapy water and the distinct aroma of eucalyptus, or lavender, or... whatever you prefer. This is where true relaxation lives and breathes, where mindlessness is at peace.

It sounds simple, in its pretext. But everything that seems uncomplicated in theory never really is.

It wasn't often Jordan allowed herself such a luxury, for her loft contained nothing more than a shower stall. Her father's tub, however, was an old style basin, complete with four short legs and feet that were tailored to appear as if they were an animal's paws, claws and all.

Today, she didn't simply want the mindless relaxation that a simple indulgence could bring... no, it was more than that. Today, she actually needed a full out bubble bath with perks, Hollywood style.

It had been three months to the day since a knife had forced its way into her lower abdomen. Three long months of waiting for the stars to realign, three months of grieving over something she never actually had in the first place, three months of pretending she was okay with that, and three months of everyone else pretending that she was made of glass.

Three months.

It was all so surreal. And if it weren't for the raised, angry scar across her tummy and the burn in her heart, she would have conceded long ago that it surely was a dream. Macy preferred to pretend that it was just another chapter in the novel that is Jordan's life. Bug and Nigel acted as if they didn't mind handling the brunt of "her" cases. And Woody feigned that he didn't really mind being interrupted in the middle of every night by a phone call (sometimes two or three) only to hear the connection break and the line go dead.

She began to despise pretense. It was just one small step away from a lie, and she'd been at the receiving end of one too many a falsehood over the years.

Maybe the dead had the right idea, because when she got down to it, without all the politics, it's just death... a body. There aren't any lies, nor half-truths or false pretenses. There's only the physical presence of a life that once was.

At least the dead don't pretend to be something other than what they are.

Her attention turned to the flood of rushing water cascading out of the faucet. She idly swirled a hand in the stream, mindlessly checking for the perfect temperature. Cupping a handful of sea salts as if they were precious stones, she proceeded to lightly sprinkle them in, as a chef would season a culinary masterpiece.

The distinct aroma of eucalyptus quickly began to work a little bit of magic upon her weary mind. She closed her eyes for but a moment, sighing in relief and inadvertently snuffing out one of her candles in her breath's wake. In search of the matches she to light another, she became sidetracked, suddenly captivated by a dimly illuminated reflection in the mirror. As the glow from the existing flames flickered, she realized that didn't know who she was anymore, as if the face in the glass was no longer her own.

There was an intense moment of this sheer animal-like, overwhelming urge to put a fist through that image, shattering it as she once had and pretending that it didn't exist. How easy it would be, to just give in, curl up in a ball, and emotionally bleed until she couldn't any more. But the light wavered again, and her appearance caused her to hesitate instead, to take in, re-examine.

She wasn't very different at first glance. Her general figure was the same, if not slightly more slender. Sure, she appeared exhausted, she wouldn't deny that, and she couldn't figure how anyone would find the bags under her eyes even remotely attractive. Her hair had gone haphazardly wavy, which is what happens when she had more important things to worry about. But overall, as she scanned from her head to the tips of her toes, she couldn't put her finger on what had made her feel like she was looking into the face of a stranger. It was as if she had become hollow... a shell of her former being.

The ugly, raised scar across her lower midsection was all that overtly remained from her brush with mortality. Despite the careful stitch work and the eventual passage of time, she knew her body would always be marked—both physically and maybe more importantly, with the memory of what could have been.

Possibly what she was looking at in the mirror wasn't a physical change like she thought it to be. Maybe, just maybe she was simply seeing the culmulative effects of years of fighting for answers, and the struggle with demons too dark to face in the morning light.

Or could it be that she was seeing her tattered heart, now with one more unraveling thread...

The doctors had warned her that her heart, as a muscle, would never be the same as it once was; that it was weaker now. She tended to disagree, at least in principle. After all, what doesn't kill breeds strength, or something to that effect. Thing was, she had to be stronger now than she ever had to be before. It was the only way she could live with yet another demon haunting her mind and taking over her soul.

Being strong, at least in pretense, was the only way she knew how to move on.

But her heart never would be the same, no matter how much she fought the change. It would carry that burden, along with the others, even though this recent load of emotional turmoil was logically so unnecessary. Yes, she'd carry it anyhow, because. Because she knew that a choice had been taken from her against her will, much the same way her mother had been taken, and because she was powerless to get either back.

But mostly, she'd carry this particular encumbrance simply because she was a woman.

Still mindlessly staring at her reflection, she recalled what Lily had said once in effort to get her to open up, not that it worked... something to the tune of 'everyone has things they carry around, similar to a weight. It's part of what makes you human. But it's when you realize that you also have the option of setting that weight down that you become lucky. That's when you start to see things for what they could be, instead of what they are.'

She had her moments, for a "shrink".

But what her friend couldn't tell her was why she felt compelled to mindlessly sit in the park and watch the world go by, often for hours. Lily couldn't tell her, because she didn't know. No, she didn't know how Jordan felt every time she'd watch a stroller go by, or when she saw kids making forts in the fallen autumn leaves. She didn't know how her heart bled every time she came across an infant, cradled safely in its mother's arms.

Nobody did, including Jordan's left brained, logical side.

It was stupid really. Why cry over something she probably never would have had anyway? Hell, she couldn't keep a goldfish alive if she had tried, much less a houseplant. But it wasn't so much the fact that she couldn't have children now, it was the fact that she just now realized how much she wanted to. Timing really was everything... how... ironic. And if it was one thing Jordan learned through all of this, it was that irony was anything but an ally.

She sighed openly, trying to calm herself back down and quell the bitterness that lurked under her skin and threatened to seep through her pores. Keeping this mental tug of war up, she'd exasperate herself in no time, and that's so not what she needed tonight. No, she simply needed one night to be at peace with herself.

Or at least with what she had become.

Abruptly turning away from the mirror and a feeling of disgust, she noticed the forgotten bath, still filling, and wondered if it really would be the solution she was looking for. Could a few bubbles really make the world go away? Probably not. But seeing as how she had already exhausted all other options, she figured she could at least give it the old college try. One foot seamlessly breached through the surface before the rest of her shell of a self followed suit. With a few deep breaths, the warm water began to trick her into feeling whole again.

A few twists of a knob succeeded in putting a cork in the dam, ceasing the flow of water. The room fell almost eerily silent, along with her mind. Caught up no longer in worry and pretense, she relished in the soothing effect of eucalyptus and smiled at the way the candlelight bounced playfully off the tiles. It had been a long time coming, but Jordan finally managed to drift into that much needed, completely mindless state of total relaxation.

Not a day went by where Woody didn't feel like he had failed her. Sure, he had unsuspectingly helped catch the guy who stabbed her in his own roundabout way, and he helped her readjust to being home and having to actually take care of herself. But he still couldn't stifle the feeling of failure.

He knew Jordan didn't outwardly enjoy being doted upon, and if he pushed too hard he'd lose her altogether. In that respect, things seemed familiar. However, things can change and still be familiar, which was where Woody found himself—between the proverbial rock and a hard place. What was different exactly? What had changed? He couldn't say for sure, but as far as he could tell, there was still something amiss...

Truth was that his entire world was shaken the minute he saw her on that cold hardwood floor surrounded in red. And so was hers.

He just wanted things to go back to normal... without the looming sense of doom hanging over them. He wanted her to be Jordan again, the fun, complicated individual who had a way about her that made his heart stop when she walked into a room. He wanted to go back in time and make things right... everything.

And damn it, he still wanted world peace.

He wasn't certain how exactly he had figured it out. Nor was he sure of what he could say, or how to even confront her, let alone offer her comfort. He simply recalled the look on her face when her lawyer friend Kim asked if she'd watch a little boy named Leo for but an hour. He remembered that the look hadn't been shock, nor certainty in her ability to scar the child for life as he figured it would have been. No, the expression that crossed her face for the briefest of moments had been this heartbreaking look of pure helplessness, and at the time he hadn't understood why.

But in pondering over it, not to mention being present for much of her attacker's trial, it just... came to him. The way she was stabbed, the length of the knife, trajectory, force... add in a general, oversimplified knowledge of a woman's anatomy from sex ed in high school and the result was nothing short of a big light bulb illuminating in his brain. She was left scarred and bleeding and even time couldn't heal what was lacking as a result.

He'd cried for an hour when he had put the pieces together, not for him, but because he knew she was too proud to weep for something she never seemed to actually want in the first place.

It's strange, that in moments of sheer helplessness, some small, almost insignificant sign comes along and brings an answer. The trick is to open your eyes and notice it. He'd been trying somewhat unsuccessfully to reconnect with Jordan, to get her to trust him again... to coax her into letting him share her pain. He'd been hanging onto those late night phone calls like a lifeline, hoping one day she'd realize that her emotional load was too overbearing and he had two strong arms to help her carry it. Jordan's obstinacy actually hadn't changed much, nor had her deep-seated fear of letting someone into her already bruised heart. In fact, he wasn't positive if he could reach her at all anymore.

But maybe, just maybe, this little stray kitten that had claimed him could find a way in.

An angrily ringing phone brought her mind back to the reality of tepid water and a general lack of bubble fluff. The candles had extinguished themselves, probably some time ago from the looks of it. She tilted her head back against her makeshift terry cloth pillow and cursed herself for leaving the stupid thing on, let alone within arm's reach.

"Cavanaugh," she answered flatly, mentally cursing the forces of habit and answering the annoyance without looking at who had interrupted her mindless state of peace.

"Jordan," he said breathlessly, "thank God I found you."

She became just slightly confused. "I was lost?" she inquired.

"Well yeah, I've been trying to reach you for the better part of the last two hours. I sort of panicked when you didn't show up." He laughed through he teeth as he continued, "Really, I'm not proud of it, but I knocked over a waitress looking for you. Fettucinni alfredo wasn't meant to fly, but somehow I managed to send it airborne," he recalled lightly, trying to mask his concern. He was good at it, but that didn't mean Jordan didn't notice.

She began reconciling tiredly, "Oh Wood, I'm so, so, sorry. I..."

"It's fine Jordan; having dinner together tonight was secretly my way of making sure you eat something. That and there's always the added benefit of dining with a beautiful woman, makes me look like quite the catch," he added, keeping his slightly playful tone, before becoming dead serious. "I was just... I wanted to know if... you, you're okay. I worry y'know?"

"Yeah, I know. I must have just drifted off... I didn't mean... I seem to have lost track of time, not to mention my mind. Can I make it up to you?"

"Don't worry about it, really," he hesitated, before coming up with one way she could make it up to him, not that she needed to. "Well... how about lunch tomorrow? There's someone I want you to meet anyway, and I'll be picking her up in the morning."

"I'm not interested in meeting one of your girlfriends, Woody," she stated, somewhat not amused.

"G-girl... wait. Huh? I don't; she's not... I, I..." he stuttered uncontrollably, in an unsuccessful attempt at keeping his wits about him.

"Relax Romeo; that was sarcasm." She smirked, enjoying a bit of the familiar banter they once shared on a regular basis.

Woody shook his head in defeat. At least she was messing with him a little, sort of like her old self. "Alright Jordan, the white flag is raised. Now, are you going to meet me and my buddy tomorrow or not?"

"Lunch sounds fine. I can remember that, at least I think so. My mind has really been elsewhere lately."

"You'd better remember," he started, but noticed a hint of desperation in her voice, and so began another thought instead. "Are you okay Jordan? I mean really. And don't give me some flippant answer either. You, your heart... I do worry."

"Y—eah. I am. Fine," but even she knew that sounded pathetic. Sticking pretense where the sun doesn't shine, she continued before he had a chance to respond. "Wait. You know what? No Woody, I'm not okay. I haven't been, and I'm finally sick of pretending that I am." She sounded a tad pissed actually. At the world, at herself, or at him... he wasn't sure.

"That's it. I'm coming over." He replied matter-of-factly. She made out the distinct jingle of car keys and the ignition start up before he realized that he had no clue where to drive. "Where are you?"

"No, no, don't come over. I'm safe, really. And I haven't gone running or anything. I promise." He fell totally silent, and she knew he wasn't pleased. Picturing him running a hand through his hair roughly or pinching the bridge of his nose until it turned red, she knew whatever face he was making, it wasn't pretty.

She spent a few moments of pondering over what he'd say next, before conceding that she really wasn't up for a struggle. "Fine, you want to know? I, I'm at Max's. I had the utilities re-hooked up, thinking maybe that would bring him back or something. Stupid? Yes. You don't need to lecture me. Waste of money? I know. I. Just. I don't know anymore... I think I simply needed to get out of my head for a while. But please... I need to figure some things out on my own so I'm going to crash here, just for the night."

"It's not stupid Jordan. It's just your way of coping with his absence. That's understandable. You sure you don't want some company?"

"Nah Wood. I'll be fine. It's okay, really."

"You're positive? I don't mind couches."

"I really, really need to be alone."

"Alright, alright. I get it. But just listen. When you call tonight, you know, usually somewhere between one and three, don't hang up. You don't have to say anything; just don't hang up this time. I'll keep the connection alive as long as you need it to be, and I'll be right there, on the other end of the line. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, before hanging up the phone and sinking back down into the water. She wondered if she had been reading him right all this time. Maybe he really didn't mind putting up with her. Maybe he really cared.

Maybe he wasn't simply pretending.

There was a little girl in the park, couldn't have been more than four, bundled up in a red coat like it was the dead of winter even though it was a pleasantly cool autumn afternoon. Jordan noticed this child, maybe because she was similar to what she pictured she was like at that age, completely content in her innocence and sporting a grin from ear to ear. She had a peanut butter sandwich in one pudgy hand and the lapel of her mother's jacket in the other. Every so often along her route she'd let go of her mother and pick off a piece of her snack and throw it on the pathway.

Breadcrumbs to find her way back Jordan mused. But then she realized why the child was smiling so, for not a moment later a flock of pigeons would swoop in and race to devour the small morsel and the girl would giggle like there was no tomorrow. The smart little thing, so in control... Jordan was almost envious.

A large hand came to rest upon her shoulder and her eyes left the little girl's power trip and noticed a familiar pair of baby blues. He smiled a greeting, before settling in next to her on the bench, obviously hiding something in his jacket, but not being very covert about it.

"Sorry I asked you to meet me here, but I ran late this morning. I haven't taken my buddy home yet and the park was closer than the morgue, I hope you don't mind."

"Nah, I like it here..." she started, yet looking around in confusion, "but where is this buddy of yours, hmm?"

"Shh, okay, you can't tell my landlord or I'll be fined more than my next paycheck, but look," he whispered as if he'd be caught with his hand in the cookie jar if he didn't.

She still looked utterly confused, but it was clear she wouldn't get to meet this friend of his until she swore not to tell. Feeling like a little kid herself she whispered, "Cross my heart..."

Smiling devilishly, he proceeded to open his coat and reveal a small calico cat, not more than six months old.

"Are you out of your mind?!" she exclaimed, surprise raising her voice a few decibels. Composing herself, she continued in a hushed tone, "You can't seriously own a cat."

"Ah, see Miss Cavanaugh, that's where you're mistaken. The cat isn't mine. She's for you."

"What?!?" she managed to say, before succumming to pure befuddlement at his crazy notion that she would actually want a cat, out of the blue.

He took the kitten in one arm and Jordan's hand in the other and proceeded to walk a stunned Jordan down the pathway. "She's a stray Jor, she wandered away from her mama, and she seems a bit lost. I just thought, that maybe you'd understand her better than I can. But if you don't want her..."

"I didn't ask for a cat Wood. I forget to water plants, remember?"

"That's where I come in. She can stay with me if you don't want cat hair all over your furniture, but as far as I'm concerned, she belongs to you."

"I don't. This isn't... I can't..."

"Stop arguing for a minute and just think about it. Would you?"

He noticed her give a skeptical look at the cat as they walked along. Approaching his car, he paused to forcefully hand over the little bundle of black and orange fur. "Here. Just be careful of her stitches... she uh, she was just fixed this morning."

He noticed that the kitten managed to make Jordan's eyes light up, if only just a little. By the time he made sure they were situated and got in on the driver's side, she was already mumbling incoherently in effort to coax the kitten back to sleep. By the time they reached his apartment, she was sold. This kitten owned her, and she found it odd that she could be so taken with a small life so quickly.

"What'd ya want for lunch Jor? I've got dinner from last night, or if you wanted to go out..." but his thoughts were cut short as he watched her cradle the kitten in her arms. He came over and sat on the edge of the coffee table, relishing in his ability to help fix things, if only a little. The orange and black calico stretched out lazily, exposing her belly and those stitches on her underside.

"You and me have lots in common little one," Jordan mentioned quietly, before looking over to Woody with a tear threatening to spill down her cheek.

He stopped her before she could say another word, "I know sweetie, I already know."

Somehow, in holding that kitten and acknowledging that Woody was helping her carry her burden, despite how she had tried to hide it from him, her heart meshed with her mind. She didn't feel so lost, in a way. As if her heart was finally beginning to accept what logic had been telling her all along.

She suddenly didn't feel so mindless anymore.

Fin