A/N Hey guys – this is my first ever fan fic so please feel free to let me know if I'm, like, doing things wrong! lol! Anyway, the rating is for the context later on and for a few bad words! If you think it's too high – please let me know – more than happy to change it!
Oh, and, I'm from down under where dammed channel 7 hasn't brung back my Crossing Jordan (tear) so I haven't seen season 5 yet (wah – tantrum) so if things are slightly off (even though this isn't in any time frame or particular time from the show) then I apologise in advance. Blame channel 7!
Oh, oops, almost forgot –
Disclaimer: As much as I would be giddy with joy if I did, I do not own Crossing Jordan and do not know any of it's affiliates or whatever I'm meant to say (write) bla bla bla… you guys know the rest anyway…
Well, won't keep you any longer, on with the show…
OMG – almost forgot something huge! The writing in bold are flashbacks! Phew! If I forgot that, you guys would have been so confudled!
Jordan sighed as she looked up at all the charts and files she was surrounded by in her office. Everyone had always told her to do her paperwork on the same day but she never listened. She didn't want to. Now, she had almost a whole years work of paperwork to catch up on. She'd always had a problem with listening and asking for advice and help from others. But, looking around herself again and not seeing one small section of the floor because it was covered in unfinished paperwork, she had to think that they might be right. Not that she would ever admit that out loud. She hated to admit she was wrong. However, she was almost glad for all the paperwork lying in front of her. It was an excuse not to go home and she didn't want to go home.
Determined to finish her work, she worked fast and hard, ignoring repeated requests from Garret and Nigel, whom were both working the late shift, to go home. In the early hours of the morning, Garret popped his head into her office.
"Jordan…?"
"Uh huh?" she replied in a bored monotone, concentrating hard on her work, eager to finish.
"I'm gonna head home. My shifts over and everyone else has left. Are you gonna be Ok here on your own?"
"Sure Garret, single girl, big city remember?" she replied indifferently, not looking up from her work. Garret was sure she didn't realise the time but didn't push the matter. She was funny that way, always seeming as if she had to prove herself to them. Never asking for help, for advice even from long friends – such as himself. He sighed. He knew from experience that there was no use arguing with Jordan.
"Make sure you lock up, be careful on the roads kay?" he said with authentic concern in his voice.
This made Jordan look up. "I'll be fine Ok? Stop worrying about me!" she teased him, looking deep into his eyes, locking her gorgeous melting chocolate eyes onto his. When he didn't move, she added, "Look, if anything happens, or I need anything I'll call Ok?"
Garret paused, contemplating that thought. The last time Jordan had said she'd call if she'd need anything, she'd ended up a thousand miles away, trying to run away from herself; the only way she knew how to cope with her problems was to run. He knew she would get angry with him if he didn't try to trust her and the last thing he wanted was to end up in an argument with her especially as she was sleep deprived. "Uh, OK Jordan but don't over-exhaust yourself. You're a workaholic, you know that right?" his voice faltering a little as he shut his eyes in fear, unsure if that was a safe thing to say. The silence after this comment confirmed his fears. He unwillingly opened his eyes to greet the situation he had just landed himself in.
He grimaced as her gentle reassuring smile turned into a scowl. "What exactly was that meant to imply?" He opened his mouth to explain but all he seemed capable of, was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "Are you implying I have no social life? Why do you think I come to work everyday? Do you think I enjoy it? Hell no! I come to work everyday to make a living for myself!" she yelled, her warm chocolate eyes now turning into cold dark tunnels that dared him to fall into her trap. Garret tried once again to explain, yet all he could accomplish was to stare at her grimly. "I come to work each day Garret," she continued ranting, slowly oozing his name out as if it were a disgusting thing to be sneered at, "to make a living for myself, to put food on the table and to ensure that I have someplace nice to live!" she roared. "Because just like any other person on this planet, I am human, as much as everyone around this office doubts that, and I deserve to be treated like any other god damn person on this planet. Why can't anyone treat me with the decency I deserve! I'm sure I'm better off with out you. So, so, GET LOST!" she finally screamed rudely in his face, pushing him out of her office and slamming her office door in his face.
Garret just stood there shocked. He had never seen Jordan in such a rage as this. He decided to leave it for tonight, talk to her tomorrow, once she'd had a decent night's sleep and some caffeine. Years later Garret would kick himself for this stupid action. He had seen the warning signs but chosen to ignore them. He could have stopped it from getting worse. It was all his fault.
Garret walked down the hall to the elevator, ashamed and hurt. He knew he shouldn't let her get to him; she was just in a bad mood. Paperwork had never brought out any good in her. He pushed the button to call a lift up to his level. One opened instantly. He wasn't surprised. He was almost sure he was the last in the building, excluding Jordan of course. He was a bit worried about her lately. She never seemed to have any fun. Obsessed with her work. Also on the verge of looking dangerously thin. And what exactly did she mean by ' "why can't anyone treat me with decency" '? Garret prayed silently that everything was ok with her and that she hadn't done anything stupid, but knowing Jordan that was exactly what she would have been inclined to have done. He sighed heavily and walked slowly into the lift. He felt as if he held the world upon his shoulders. He pushed Jordan out of his mind, and set his thoughts on a nice hot shower he was going to enjoy once he got home. He selected the ground upon which his car was parked and the elevator chimed loudly in the silence as the doors closed, and the elevator descended, leaving Jordan alone in the deserted building.
Upon slamming her door in Garret's face, Jordan returned to her desk, outraged at Garret, at the world, at humanity. Garret was her best friend and she couldn't believe she had just yelled so fiercely at him like that. A small voice in her head told her she had yelled at him for no reason, he was not in the wrong. She quickly pushed that voice out of her head. She sat grumpily back down at her desk, only she pushed her work aside and held her head in her hands and replayed the argument over and over, becoming more depressed each minute. She slowly pulled out a bottle of strong alcoholic gin and a glass from the bottom drawer in her desk, wishing to ease the pain. She stared at the bottle in her hands for a while, remembering that her drinking was what had brought this on. Outraged, she threw the bottle across the room with anger. It crashed against the cabinet and the glass shattered. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. Blood from a cut from the glass splattered on the file of the case she was finishing the paperwork on. She couldn't care less. She was outraged at her boring, boring work. Outraged at the horrors of alcohol. And she was terrified, too petrified to be outraged, at him.
She needed to clear her head – someplace other than home. She knew what was waiting for her there and she didn't want to deal with that now. She didn't see why she should have to – what she had done to deserve this.
Oh crap! She was going to be sick if she spent another second in her office. It suddenly felt so stuffy. Jordan raced out of her office, leaving it how it was. Forgetting her keys, bag and coat and to lock up, too eager to get out, she quickly hurried into the elevator pushing the elevator button twice, impatiently waiting for the doors to close. The elevator chimed, just like it had for Garret, and the doors closed, descending Jordan down to the lobby.
The elevator ride seemed like an eternity. She felt as if the air inside the elevator was compressing in on her. She felt faint. She was going to spew – now. Hell. She needed to get out. Finally the elevator doors opened. She rushed out, head down, desperate to reach the ground floor doors. Bang. She hit into something, head on. It was a person. What was he doing in the building at this time of the night – or was it morning? She looked up at him to apologise. Hang on… those warm blue eyes were familiar. "Woody… I, I, I think I'm gonna be sick."
She suddenly vomited violently splattering vomit on his shoes. He didn't seem to care, or notice. He was more concerned about her wellbeing. She keeled over on the marble floor of the lobby and Woody kneeled next to her, pulling her hair out of the way and held her until she collapsed, exhausted into his arms. Just content to let him hold her. She always felt safe in his arms, "I'm sick of him Woody," she finally mumbled. "I hate his guts right now. I just don't see why I should have to put up with him anymore. I just want so much to teach him a lesson."
"What do you mean Jordan?" Woody asked, confused. "Who, Who is?… let's just get you home."
"No!" she suddenly said sharply, wobbly standing up. "I'm fine. I need to do this by myself."
Woody stood up next to her. "Do what by yourself Jor? Look, listen to me," Woody started to lecture, grabbing her shoulders, "you're not fine – you just threw up"
"No!" she said more sharply, pulling away from him. "Let me go," and at this she turned sharply on her heel and walked determinedly out the door, stumbling only twice on her high heeled boots.
Woody scanned the radio again in hope that he could pick up a radio signal of any kind. He couldn't. Jordan smirked. It was the third time that minute he had tried. Woody glared at her, silencing her with his menacing stare. Jordan went back to staring out of her window in silence, as she had been for several hours. Jordan was fine with the silence, quite used to it really; she found it comfortable. Woody on the other hand found it most unpleasant. He tried to make conversation again.
"So, ah, what do you make of his story, guilty or innocent?" Woody asked, referring to the only known living witness of a hold-up in a Boston Bank.
Jordan sighed, still staring out the window. "Woody, you've already asked me that same question twice in the last hour," she replied, indifferently. Once again Jordan had managed to tag along with Woody. This time however, she was paying the price for it – a seven-hour trip to the witness' residence, an hour questioning, and a seven-hour trip back.
"There's no need to be so tense," she continued, "we're back in Boston anyway."
"Then why isn't this damn radio working!" he almost yelled. Jordan smirked again, trying to hide her face by looking out the window. "What did you do to my radio Jordan?" he accused.
"See it's not that hard to engage in conversation is it?" Jordan teased.
"What did you do to my car Jordan!"
"We're almost at my building, just drop me at the front," she said casually, avoiding the question.
"This is a company car Jordan, I'm dead meat if someone finds out the radio's broken!" Woody lectured, pulling up out of the front of Jordan's building.
"Thanks for getting me out of a day of paperwork Woody" Jordan said, giving Woody one of her gorgeous smiles.
"Jordan, I'm not going to let you out of this car until you tell me what's wrong with my radio" he growled, trying his best to keep his frustration at Jordan under control.
"Well, I'm quite sure, Mr. Woodrow, that what is wrong with your radio is the fact that it's not working." She laughed.
"Please don't push me Jordan, not tonight." Woody begged, closing his eyes in desperation.
"Oh, it's nothing you're average handyman can't fix" she whispered moving closer to him.
Woody opened his eyes to find Jordan no more than an inch away from him. He lent in for a kiss. Jordan quickly pulled away.
"What is wrong with you Jordan? Aren't I ever going to be good enough for you?" Woody yelled at her, outraged.
Jordan was startled by his sudden anger. "No, its not that… its just –"
"You don't want anyone to get hurt," Woody interrupted in a mocking voice. "I know. I've heard it before. Get over yourself Jordan. Learn to take a risk!" he roared.
This comment left Jordan close to tears. She didn't know what had come over her. She was not one to cry over something like this. She bit her lip, trying her best not to let Woody see how much he had hurt her. Grabbing her coat and bag, she ran from the car, quickly into her apartment building, leaving Woody to stare after her.
He sat in the car and waited, as he always did, for her light to go on in her apartment before driving off. He held his head in his hands and replayed their conversation in his mind and wondered why she had taken such offence to what he had said. She was a strong girl right? That was why he was so attracted to her. He wondered, if she wasn't as strong as everyone thought. Years later, Woody would kick himself for not acting on this hunch. He had seen the warning signs but chosen to ignore them. He could have stopped it from getting worse. It was all his fault. As he saw her light flicker on, he drove off, unable to push Jordan from his mind as he remembered those hurt eyes she had looked at him with. Filled with betrayal and grief.
Jordan fumbled with her keys as she locked the door behind her. Tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. Not bothering to wipe her face, she crawled into bed snuggled up under the covers. Despite knowing that she would not be able to sleep, that's how she stayed all night, with tears still running down her cheeks, until the early hours of the morning.
A/N Hey guys, so what did you think of my first chapter of my first ever fan fiction. Now, I know I promised myself I would never EVER write this cause its SO annoying, but I caved.
