He threw himself into work, and anything else he could find that would keep him busy, but inside, Jim knew it was all compensation for not facing up to his own issues. It was easy to put the memories out of mind during the daylight hours, but once he was alone, particularly back at his townhouse, things were a lot harder to ignore.
II should have said it a different way, was a common refrain in his thoughts, along with I did the right thing—why do I feel like shit for it?
Tony tried to make amends for his gaffe, and Jim let him off the hook, making it clear that although he wasn't mad that this wasn't a situation to tease him about, and Tony for once, backed off.
Jim wasn't sure if that made it worse or not; all he knew was that he couldn't get Jodie off his mind, and that she continued to star in his fantasies, much to his guilty pleasure.
By the last day of the year, he'd resigned himself to his depression, and wasn't prepared to hear her voice on his phone as he spent a rare morning at his desk. The call came through as he tried to clear out his Email, and distractedly he didn't bother checking the caller ID. "Rhodes here."
"Hi Jim—Colonel Rhodes. It's Jody," came her hesitant voice, and Jim felt a surge in his chest. He fumbled with the receiver a moment, settling it more firmly between his shoulder and ear.
"Jody. It's good to hear from you," he told her, relief in his tone. "Hey—I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"For what?" came her gentle voice. "You didn't do anything wrong, and I appreciate your honesty."
"I didn't have to come across as a jerk doing it, though," he chided himself, and was rewarded when she giggled.
"You have a long way to go before I could Iever/I consider you a jerk, Jim. I just called to see if you were going to be around this morning. I've finished the specs and first models and I'd like you to sign off as advisor on them. The base firewalls won't let me send this stuff to you in an Email, and to be honest, I'd really like your opinion on the prototype model."
"Sure, I'll be in—I'll call to the main gate and get you cleared. You remember how to get to my building?" Jim felt his pulse speed up. He was going to see her again. This was good. Very good.
"Sure do. I've got one errand to run, but I'll be out there in an hour, if that's good for you."
"It's good for me, Jodie, no problem. Catch you in sixty minutes, 'kay?"
"I'll be there," she cheerfully assured him, and hung up.
Jim slowly replaced the receiver and took a deep breath, feeling buoyant suddenly. She's not mad, echoed in his head, and he grinned at how good that made him feel. He glanced around, realized exactly how crappy his office looked and got to work, hustling to clear out the paper and make it presentable.
He'd succeeded for the most part, getting things back to where they belonged, and dusting a little as he waited. Jim checked his watch, realizing it was still early, and that he was nervous.
Damn it, this should NOT be a big deal, he scolded himself.
Then he heard her voice, dimly down the hall. Jim opened the door and looked out; Jodie was walking with a young airman who was carrying a box for her, his interest evident. Jim stepped out and lightly glared; seeing a full-bird colonel with a scowl, the airman stiffened slightly.
"Thank you. I can take things from here," Jim told the young non-com as he reached for the box.
"Yes, sir." The airman saluted and left. Shifting her purse on her shoulder, Jodie beamed.
"No need to look mean there, Colonel. He was just helping me carry this in."
"I didn't look mean," Jim protested, but Jodie was smiling now, moving closer to squeeze his arm lightly.
"Surrre, that's why he's flying out of here. Come on; I want you to take a look at our baby."
Jim carried the box in, feeling exasperated and delighted at seeing Jodie once more. She was in a denim skirt with a pale blouse and black vest which did wonders for her small waist. Sweeping past him, Jim caught a hint of flowers in her perfume. "You look . . . nice."
"So do you," she told him with a smile. "I was sort of nervous, but I know we're okay, so it's going to be okay, right?"
"Right," he nodded, feeling that just seeing her was more than okay. Jodie looked at him a moment longer, and Jim could see a flush of pink along her cheeks. She shook her head and turned to the box, busying herself.
"Okay, want to see the first C5 off the Zody line?"
"Lay it on me," He told her, and perched a hip on his desk. Jody undid the box flaps and reached in. The move bent her forward, and for one glorious moment Jim Rhodes had a clear and dangerous view of her sweet cleavage, round, rosy and ripe.
WANT, his inner caveman grunted.
Jim couldn't argue, but tried valiantly to keep his attention on the model in Jodie's hands instead of the much more enticing view behind it.
"Nice," he croaked, and cleared his throat, shifting a bit. Jodie nodded, lifting the plane higher.
"Yep. I had a heck of a time with the roundness in the front. Seriously, A C5's nosecone is really big and round," she murmured, staring at the model, "And trying to get the mold right was driving me crazy. Honestly, it's not a C5, it's a D cup."
Jim blinked, feeling his face flush even as he laughed. Jodie laughed too, holding the model out to him. "Anyway, the front lifts up, just like the real thing, and it's hollow inside, so that's pretty lifelike too. I'm hoping it's big enough that nobody gets a finger caught inside it."
"Wow," Jim murmured, caught up in the molded details as he peeked inside the back ramp. "Nice job!"
"Really?" she asked, and for a moment Jodie wasn't the vice president of a toy company, or an expert on die cast molding; she was a shy young woman wanting his approval on a job well done, and Jim felt a deep pang, sweet and strong within him.
"Really," he assured her. "It's an outstanding C5, and I bet if I showed this to the flight line crew, they'd agree."
Jodie looked down modestly, but she was smiling. "Thanks. I really did put some time into it, and now it's just a matter of getting the right shade of paint for the exterior, something non-toxic."
"We could mosey over to the hangar and see about finding a match," Jim offered. "If you've got the time."
"Yep!"
*** *** ***
It happened twenty minutes later, as they were coming around the stairwell to the parts bay. Jodie was marveling at the spray-paint trucks when a forklift came careening around the corner. The airman driving it hadn't been expecting anyone on the landing, and tried to swerve; Jim pulled Jodie back, and in the process took a glancing clip from the forklift.
He went tumbling into a wall of paint drums, knocking several of them down, and one smashed directly on Jim's left ankle. Jodie gave a cry and darted over to him, shoving barrels out of the way. If he hadn't been stunned, he would have enjoyed her Amazon warrior moment, but when the pain hit, Jim closed his eyes and gritted his teeth hard.
Things went quickly after that, and Jim tried to take everything in, but through the haze of pain it was difficult to focus. An ambulance ride across the base; a major in a white lab coat was telling him that they needed X-rays; and all through the Demerol and examination there was Jodie, clinging to his hand like it was welded to hers.
Jim tried, weakly, to send her home but she gave him an exasperated look and shook her head. "Nothing doing, Jim Rhodes—you're going to need me."
The X-rays revealed a minor fracture, and the doctor recommended a splint for six weeks. "Grounded for the duration, Colonel. I want you to take your prescriptions religiously, and after a week, check in with PT down on the main floor so those tendons don't tighten up on you. We'll outfit you with crutches, but for now, your wings are clipped."
"Does he need bed rest?" Jodie asked, and both Jim and the doctor were startled to see a small notebook in her hand. The doctor shrugged, smiling a bit.
"It wouldn't hurt for the first twenty-four hours, with some ice for swelling and TLC for the rest of the time. Make sure the wrappings around the ankle aren't too tight; that's really the only other thing to watch for, ma'am."
Jodie jotted a few things. Jim murmured to her, softly. "Jodie—"
"Don't you even think you're going to be able to handle driving for a while, Jim," she told him firmly. "Much less get up to that office of yours. We're going home, I'm getting you your meds, and you're taking it easy, Mister."
"Sounds like she's pulling rank on you, sir," the doctor agreed, and handed Jodie the prescription. "Think of it as a good time to catch up on ESPN."
Jim was torn between laughing and feeling exasperated. None of this was Jodie's fault, and yet here she was, taking responsibility and acting as if it was second nature to boss him around. Not that he minded, really. There was something arousing about seeing her in full business mode, and he waited until the doctor had stepped out to get a wheelchair to speak. "Remind me again how you made general? Because last time I checked, there weren't any eagles on your shoulders, Zody."
She shot him a bright-eyed smile. "That's because you don't spend a lot of time looking that high."
He flushed. Jodie had him dead to rights on that one, and he'd walked Istraight/I into it. She giggled and leaned up, brushing her nose with his; the scent of her perfume very sweet. "S'okay, Jim. I'm used to guys checking out my balcony."
"I . . . I didn't mean to stare," he mumbled, feeling the heat rising off his face.
"I don't mind. At least, not when Iyou/I do it," she replied in a soft voice. At that point the doctor came back, and Jim was glad to shift off the exam table and into the wheelchair, if only to break the beguiling lure of Jodie's big blue eyes.
She rolled him out of the infirmary and out to her truck; his car would be safe parked on-base for the night. Jim eased himself into the cab, stashing the crutches behind the seat, and buckled up silently.
Jodie swung herself up into the driver's seat and paused as she turned to look at Jim, her expression calm. "Look, I know you probably think I'm being pushy, but you're hurting, and I can help, really. Dad's been in a chair for years, so I know my way around someone who's mobility-impaired, and I know there are some things you haven't even thought about yet, like cooking, and showering and stairs."
Jim blinked. "Crap."
"Let me guess: You have a few where you live, huh?" Jodie empathized.
"Townhouse. On a hillside," Jim confessed. "This could be . . . tricky."
Jodie looked a trifle smug, he thought, but she didn't say anything. Jim gave a loud sigh and gestured to the road. "Okay, okay, you win for the moment, Jodie baby, but I'm tougher than you think. I can handle a few little stairs."
"I know you are, Jim, I know you are," she murmured and started the truck.
*** *** ***
An hour later, Jim awkwardly lurched over the threshold of Jodie's house, feeling caught between pain and embarrassment. He had barely managed to get halfway up the ten steps to his townhouse, wracked with pain. He nearly fell; Jodie had quietly helped him back down to the truck.
"You're coming home with me, Jim. I've got a single story home with wheelchair ramps and a spare bedroom. Please—I'm not going to take no for an answer on this."
Dizzy and defeated, he'd nodded, and for that, Jodie stroked his cheek lightly. "Good. Let's make a list of what you want me to pack for a stay of a few days, then."
Now here he was, hanging off his crutches, looking around and wishing he could just lie down somewhere with a big dose of Ibuprofen. This hadn't been the way he'd wanted his day to go, and yet Jim was interested in seeing the place, despite his pain and frustrations.
The living room was a wide, airy place with pale blue walls and a few hanging plants. The sofas were plain and off-white, with colorful patchwork quilts folded across their backs, and the big TV console took up the better part of the back wall.
Suddenly the idea of ESPN made some sense, Jim thought with a nod. Jodie bustled up beside him, waving a hand to the living room. "My place. Not fancy, but it's home."
"It's nice," Jim murmured honestly. "Like the quilts."
Jodie beamed. "My mother made one and I made the other. Anyway, you need some rest and I've got some ice, so I want to get you in the bedroom."
Jim said nothing at the unintended innuendo but smiled a bit; Jodie went pink again and rolled her eyes. "Not a word, James Rhodes."
"Not saying any," he replied defensively, but a chuckle escaped him. Jodie humphed, and led the way through a small hallway to the first door.
"Here," she told him, and he swung himself through the doorway. The room was small but clean, and all of the walls were filled with framed photos of planes. Jim looked around and gave a pleased laugh as he lowered himself to the mattress, setting his crutches against the nightstand.
"So how did a woman like you ever get so plane-crazy anyway?"
"Long story, but if you lie back and let me ice up your ankle, I'll tell you," Jodie offered, brushing back one corkscrew curl from her eyes and smiling back.
*** *** ***
He slept. By the time he woke it was dark outside, and Jim felt a little groggy. He got up and reached for the crutches, used the bathroom and made his way into the living room again. The smell of something good lured him on, and he swung in to find Jodie sprawled on one of the sofas, watching the news. She looked over the back of the sofa at him and smiled. "Hey there. Feeling better?"
"A little. Whatever's in those pain pills packs a punch."
"They're supposed to. Come sit down, and we can eat in front of the TV."
Jim managed his way around the sofa, feeling awkward in sweats, but Jodie handed him the remote, and leaned in, whispering, "You only get this temporarily, you know."
He arched an eyebrow at her. "Oh I don't think so, Jodie baby. It's the male prerogative to control the clicker. Fundamental law of biology."
"Is that a fact?" Jodie smirked. "Biological, huh?"
"Completely," Jim bluffed, "So that means no Lifetime or Oxygen or CMTV."
She batted her eyes at him. "So I suppose negotiations for a few compromises are out?"
"What exactly are you gettin' at, woman?" Jim murmured back, feeling slightly playful. He'd slept well, dinner smelled good, and for once, Jim decided to simply stop fighting things and see what happened. He wondered if it was the drugs, or just some realization that there were factors at work here beyond his control.
In any case, it felt good, and he was willing to go with that.
Jodie giggled. "Well, I happen to know for a fact that Memphis Belle is on tonight, if you're interested in watching."
Another plus. Jim perked up, and nodded. "Sounds good—how many times have you seen it?" he asked knowingly.
Jodie blushed. "Um, a few," she admitted. "I'm . . . going to go get the casserole now."
"Is 'a few' less than twenty?" Jim called to her as she slipped off to the kitchen. "Or are you going to be saying the dialogue along with the movie?"
"Not answering that one!" came the cheery reply. "Do you want milk, water or soda with dinner?"
"Milk," Jim replied, "Need help?"
"I'm fine. Hope you like chicken and rice. Not allergic to anything are you?"
"Love it, not allergic to anything yet," he called back. His stomach rumbled in happy anticipation, and he laughed softly to himself.
Dinner. Someone—
Not someone. Jodie.
Jodie was making him dinner.
Somehow the scenario just felt right, and Jim suspected the food would be terrific too. He settled back on the sofa, propped his leg up on the coffeetable and pointed the remote at the screen, smiling.