When he woke up again, the room felt awfully empty. Gone was even the last trace of her unique perfume, and he found himself wondering if he had imagined the last hours. But then, his unsettled fingers found something small nestled against the bed frame, almost unnoticeable.

The metal felt somewhat lively, comforting and warm against his hand, and he tightly held onto the tiny locket, knowing without a doubt it was hers… the very same he had returned to her after the burglary. It seemed so long ago – almost like a lifetime away.

So much had happened – or not – between them after that day, so many things couldn't have gone worse… but yet here they were. Himself lying in a hospital bed and longing to talk to her, and Jordan… yes, where was she? His guess was somewhere between Connecticut and the cafeteria.

With a little, painful smile, he lifted his hand to take a better look at the object of his curiosity… and a cold fear ran down his spine, settling into his mind and letting not much space for rational thoughts. He could feel the locket… he could grasp it… but he couldn't move his arm.

It was hard to stay calm.

When he had tried to lift his other arm, he had gotten the same result there… and it occurred to him that it wasn't just a normal bar fight he had been involved in. But he couldn't exactly remember what happened. The last thing he knew was walking down the precinct with Jordan… someone was calling him on his cell. He stopped for a second to answer it… and then things got hazy. The next thing he remembered was waking up here, with an aching jaw, evidently bruises all over his body and as much as no feeling in his arms. What had happened? And what a role played Jordan in this? She had to know something. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been this angry about his medication. He vaguely remembered her talking-or rather screaming-at the nurses because she though his medication was too low… too low for what? Numb him? If that was the case, she had failed.

But he shouldn't really jump on conclusions now, not before he knew what really happened.

"Are you okay?"

The small voice stopped his useless thoughts. He wanted to respond, and was surprised he actually could.. no tube was down his throat anymore. They must had gotten it out while he was asleep.

"No, I'm not! What the hell is wrong with- "

Woody stopped himself when he noticed who he was talking to… a girl. A little girl. A very little girl, looking strangely familiar.

Confused, he tried to place her somewhere in his memory, but he was sure he had never seen her before.

She was barely seven, he guessed. And with her long, chocolate-colored hair and hazel eyes, she was certainly cute, almost like an angel. But why would she care about him?

"I'm sorry. It's just… could you please get a doctor? I don't feel so well."

And he didn't. His throat was awfully sore, his ribs hurt, and his lungs felt as if they were just about to explode. No, he wasn't feeling well.

To his amazement, the girl grinned. And shook her head.

"Nope. I'm gonna go and fetch Jo."

She wasn't kidding, he found out.

Two minutes later, she was back, an instantly concerned and alerted Jordan in tow.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left, I was just trying to get an update on your condition from one of the doctors, and then Jess came and told me you're awake. How do you feel?"