I apologize for the delay! I decided to take a nice, long vacation for my birthday and completely lost track of time. I can, however, say with great confidence now that Door County, Wisconsin is rivaled in beauty only by Ireland. If you need vacation ideas, go there.

To make up for my absence, here is a longer chapter for you all. Enjoy!

Eden

Chapter 7

Woody's boss grudgingly gave him Wednesday through the following Monday off – six days. Or at least, he made it seem grudging. Nearly every officer in the precinct knew Jordan, and every one of them wanted to see her recovery go well. When Woody said they'd hit a snag and she was going downhill, could he please have a few days to see her through it, the chief had only taken a few seconds of convincing before he gave his detective the days off. Didn't even take it out of his vacation or PTO.

Now he was gathering a few files from his desk to take, just in case he needed them while he was gone.

Santana leaned against the doorframe and knocked lightly, giving him a faint smile when he looked up briefly. "Hey, Hoyt. Heard you're taking off for a few days?" He didn't say anything, so she straightened and handed him another, unmarked, file. "Here. Tuck this in your bag. It's, uh, a copy of Jordan's case. Roz and I can't get anything else out of it, and Captain just marked it as cold this morning."

Woody took the disproportionately thin folder, staring at the smooth manila cover without opening it. "Already?" he asked after a few tense seconds. "It was opened less than two months ago. Why…?"

"We haven't gotten any new leads," the young woman explained softly. She knew he understood all this, and she didn't want to offend him by treating him like a victim's family when he was so far removed from that…and yet so close to it at the same time. "We're still going to come back every chance we get, but, well…it'll have to be under the table. I'm so sorry. We've done everything we can right now."

He nodded, swallowing harshly before he said something he'd regret. "Yeah," he choked out, slipping the file inside another and then putting both into the bag he had brought. "Thanks."

Santana came inside and touched his hand, forcing his eyes up to hers. "If there's anything we can do, Woody. And I don't mean with this case. I mean for you."

He nodded again, not trusting himself to respond to that. It meant a lot to him. This rookie detective had become a good partner, and she was proving herself to be just as good a friend. "I-I need to go. Jo's waiting for me."

"'Kay. I'll see you soon. Tell Jordan that I miss seeing her face around here."

xXx

Kate had been kind enough to bring Jordan by their house earlier in the day so she could pack bags for them both, so when he arrived at the M.E.'s townhome later she was ready to go. After an early dinner with her coworker, they were now on the road. It was less than a three hour drive to get from one side of Massachusetts to the other, and Woody had no doubt they'd get there by nightfall.

Unfortunately it was a painfully quiet trip. As Woody cruised down I-90, he took a quick glance over at her.

Jordan was gazing mindlessly out the window, watching as the trees zipped by and trying very hard not to think. She hadn't put on her earphones, but she wasn't even attempting to start a conversation. She didn't know what to say, what he wanted her to say. This trip – getting away from everything – was going to help immensely. She knew that. She was just having a difficult time keeping herself convinced of it, and her pounding heart was making the use of her voice difficult.

"I did a little bit of reading about Lenox today," Woody started hesitantly. "Before I left work." He swallowed and wet his lips, taking a deep breath before continuing. "There's, uh, there's a lot to do there. Horseback riding. Which – oh, which you can't do right now…" He paused, shooting another quick look in her direction. She was looking out the windshield now, obviously listening. "There's also this really nice library with an art and music collection. If you're feeling up to it, we can go take a look. Some gorgeous parks, too. Oh, and a Shakespeare company! And a ballet company, and another theater group. Edith Wharton's home is there, we can visit if you want. I'm forgetting something…"

"Woody," Jordan broke in, taking advantage of his forgetfulness to speak up. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything." She reached across the car to touch his leg and give him a small smile that he only just saw. "Getting away from Boston for a few days is all I need. Really."

Woody bit his lip, color staining his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm just…I'm worried about you. But hey, if you don't wanna go out, I bet Kate's got a DVD player in there. We can hunker down and watch movies all week."

She tightened her fingers slightly on his thigh in a show of support before pulling her hand back. "I like the sound of that."

"Oh, uh…I remembered. That other thing? It's a place called…crap – Tanglewood, I think?"

Jordan's eyes actually widened when he said that, and she sat up straighter to really look at him. For one wonderful moment, she forgot about everything else. "Oh, man, you're right! I completely forgot! The Boston Symphony'd be there right now, too. It's the middle of summer. I wonder if we'd be able to get tickets at this point?"

Woody felt his heart lighten at the excitement in her voice, a hint of her old self coming to the surface. "Two tickets will be waiting for us at Will-Call, if you feel like going on Friday. I ordered them this afternoon."

"You know me pretty well, Farm Boy," she said, still smiling. "That was a really great idea. Thank you. It means a lot to me, everything you're doing."

"I would do anything for you, Jordan," he said in return.

xXx

The house, they found out an hour later, was more of a small mansion. Kate had explained to them over dinner that it had belonged to her parents, and they had left it to her after they moved out west. She had no desire to live in that part of the state, but she also didn't want to sell her parents' beloved home – so she compromised by renting it out from Boston to vacationers as a way to make some additional income. That way, she said, she could also return whenever she wanted.

Jordan got out of the Chevelle as soon as Woody cut the engine and stared up at the impressive front lawn. This house was at least twice as large as their own, and so very different. Where their new residence was open and inviting from the get-go, this one's well-manicured landscaping made it clear someone who did not live here did the gardening. That didn't mean the house wasn't loved, though, and that became apparent as soon as they let themselves inside.

The furnishings were warm, a welcoming touch for a weary traveler. Lush seating and draperies, perfectly toned accent walls hung here and there with professional painting and bookshelves filled with knick-knacks, candles, photographs, and books read many times by many people.

"This is nice," Jordan said, not protesting when Woody took her bag.

He watched her as she walked into the pretty living room. "You feeling okay?" he asked gently. "Not…painful or anything?"

She gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm okay, but I'd love a shower. You wanna bring my bag upstairs so we can find the bedroom? I, uh, shouldn't carry it."

"Yeah, sure thing." He immediately lifted it higher over his shoulder with his own and, together, they climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway. There were three bedrooms for them to choose from, and Jordan opened the second door to reveal a lovely room with a queen-sized sheer canopy bed and a bay window looking out over the spacious backyard. A door on the far side led to a large connecting bathroom with a shower and bathtub. They didn't need to ask one another to know this was the room they'd sleep in.

"Hey," Woody whispered, close beside her. She turned to look at him, and they suddenly realized this was the closest they had been in days. "I'll run out and get us a few movies while you shower. Do you want anything in particular? I'll even put up with one of those silly romantic comedies."

She grinned, reaching up to touch his cheek. "No action flicks. Other than that, I don't care."

"Okay." He smiled at her and took one step back, lingering for another second just to look at her. Then he turned and left.

She waited until she heard the front door open and close, and then his car start and pull away before she unzipped her bag and reached down under the pajamas she had packed. Her gun was there, safe and secure in its small travel case. She had a conceal carry permit for it and they hadn't crossed any state lines, so bringing it wasn't illegal. Pursing her lips, she unsnapped the case and checked the weapon's chamber. It was full.

Jordan had told herself, when she had slipped it into her bag earlier that day, that it was purely a precaution. She was still trying to convince herself that she was safe, and having her gun was only going to act as a security blanket of sorts.

That was all.

Not giving this another thought, she went to the right side of the bed and lowered it carefully into the drawer of the nightstand.

xXx

Jordan grinned when she saw the movie selection.

"Shakespeare in Love?" she asked, holding up the case and raising an eyebrow.

Woody chuckled, trying to hide the color rising on his neck. "The store was tiny, okay? And it's almost the Fourth of July, so everything like Independence Day was already gone. It was these or Christmas movies."

Sleepless in Seattle was among the stack and Jordan spread them out to see the other titles, her amusement growing. The Piano, which she pushed aside. An old Zorro, an Audrey Hepburn film, and Practical Magic of all things. "You really did have slim pickings, huh?"

He shrugged and glanced over her shoulder while she sorted. "We can check back again tomorrow night, see if anyone returned anything."

"This isn't too bad, I guess. Here, let's watch Zorro."

As she got the movie started and grabbed the bowl of popcorn to bring over to the large leather couch, Woody watched her. She seemed to be doing better. Just getting out of Boston at all had made a world of difference in her mood. Either that, or she was being masterful in her hiding of how she was really doing. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, it could be a toss up – she was doing great, or the worst was yet to come. He was honestly surprised when she sat close and leaned back toward him. Woody immediately opened his arms and wrapped them around her so she could rest half against his chest, half spread out along the rest of the sofa. Cuddling was a good sign, right?

Her hair was still damp, and he lowered his head just enough to lean gently against hers. She smelled like that bottle of travel shampoo she had, not her usual stuff, and it made the moment seem surreal. "Hey, can I ask you something?" he murmured as the movie's opening titles began to roll.

"That depends," Jordan replied somewhat sternly, her eyes not leaving the television screen. "If it's about my mom or anything to do with that, no. Something unrelated? Sure."

Woody hesitated. Okay, maybe she's still a little rocky. "It's not about your mom. I don't think." He paused again, relishing the fact that she wasn't stiffening in his grasp and was actually listening even if she wasn't looking at him. "That book – East of Eden. Is it really one of your favorites?"

"Oh." She was legitimately surprised at the question, but not necessarily in a bad way. "Yeah, it is. I've read it, like, six times. I don't know why I took such a liking to it in high school when it was required reading, but something about it just grabbed me. I think it was the only book I actually read for any class. I still have that same copy, too." She shrugged, continuing to stare at the television though not really watching the movie. "It's this cosmic battle of good versus evil on so many different levels, but the more you read and the more you learn about the characters…the more blurry the lines become. Who's the good one? Is this person really evil? I haven't read it in a few years now, but still. It got me through some rough times when I was in college."

Woody just nodded, letting silence fall as the movie's beginning scene started. How had he never known that?

xXx

They finished watching Zorro and moved on to Roman Holiday, and so it was well after midnight by the time they finally decided to head to bed. Jordan let him help her up the stairs, claiming that she was starting to get a bit achy, but Woody took advantage of the closeness she was allowing him to have. It was almost like old times, coming home from a bar or from a late night of dancing when she wore the wrong shoes.

She had left a small lamp by the bed on, and the room was dimly lit when they opened the door. Romantic, almost, had that been the reason for this trip. He desperately wished it had been. If he were honest with himself, he missed her. He missed joking with her the way they had been able to do before this had happened. He missed the way she used to smile so easily, and laugh freely because she was just so happy. He missed talking with her about what he was feeling or what was going on in his head, what his day had been like, even such inconsequential things like what Seely made him eat for lunch on a childish dare. He missed her banter, and her sharing with him the cases she was working on or what ridiculous stunt Nigel had pulled. He missed the access to that place in her soul he used to have.

That was all gone. The attack and the vicious memories it had forced back into her mind had pushed all of it away.

But he hadn't had the heart to tell her that it had affected him just as strongly. He saw her, bleeding and so close to death, every time he closed his eyes. Even when she was there, alive in his arms, he still vividly remembered what it was like to see her dead on that hospital bed when he felt like his world was collapsing.

He had been through this too many times already, but only once with her. That brain tumor. All of the previous times had been with his mother, his father, Devan, Lu. Almost with Cal, too many times to count. He'd been through it, losing the people you love, until he only had one person left. And then she had nearly slipped through his fingers, too.

She was right here, right now. Alive. And yet...he couldn't say anything to her. Instead, he just climbed into his side of the plush bed and watched as she undressed and pulled on a loose tank top. The incision, still held closed with stitches, glared at him before she gently tugged the shirt down and tucked in beside him.

"You okay, Farm Boy?" Jordan asked, rolling to her side to look at him.

He turned to his side as well and studied her face silently, taking in her features. The concerned angle of her eyebrows, the glow in her whiskey eyes from the lamp, the tightness around her lips that hadn't been there in the last year but had returned in the last two weeks. She was still so beautiful. She was still Jordan. Still the woman he loved more than his own life. He felt the sting of tears, and he quickly squeezed his eyes closed. But she had noticed.

"Hey, Woody. It's okay." She reached out with her thumb and brushed away his tears from where they were pooling near his nose, leaving her hand to rest against his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he started to say, then stopped, covering her hand with his. "I just... I was so scared, Jo. I haven't - haven't felt that kind of fear since my father died. And it wasn't just that. I was angry - furious - and then you...you were suddenly okay again. But you s-still almost - and now -" He had to stop, unable to keep speaking without being overcome with emotion.

"And now what?" She pushed, her voice soft and entreating. She scooted a little closer, sliding one of her legs between his and resting her free arm against his chest. "And now what, Woody?"

"Now you're…you're well again, but I still feel that way. S-scared, and angry, just like I did in the hospital when I didn't know if you'd survive." He closed his eyes again, now just wanting to feel her body everywhere it touched his. More tears had escaped from the corners of his eyes, and her strong fingers gently wiped them away. "And I miss you."

"Miss me? I'm right here." She grinned, and he could hear it in her words. But there was still something absent and they both knew it.

"You're miles away, Jordan," Woody pointed out, not sure how to voice what he had been thinking before. "It's like…who you were didn't come home with your body. You're here physically, but you're not here. Jo…" He paused, realizing this as he said it, "I haven't kissed you since before it happened. Not really. It's like that part of you is just…gone. And I miss you."

She was silent for a long moment before whispering sadly, "Maybe I should have left."

"No," he quickly retorted, his eyes flashing open to see that she had started to cry, too. "No. Jordan, no. God. I am so, so sorry I didn't realize what was going on. With you. But no matter what, I do not want you to leave. I love you so much. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I know." A small, wry smile pulled back her lips but the warmth in her eyes was sincere. "I guess, uh…I guess I could have clued you in before having one of my, you know. Cuckoo episodes. Can't expect you to be psychic, huh?"

"Are you ready to talk?" Woody asked softly, holding her teary gaze with his own. "About your mom?"

Jordan's breath puffed out in a short sigh. She wasn't getting angry, though. Not like before. "What is there to talk about?" she shot back half-heartedly. "Obviously history is destined to repeat itself over and over until I either self-destruct or someone else kills me. This is the second time I've been attacked in my home without provocation, remember?" It was only after the words came out that she remembered she hadn't actually told Woody about the first time, the man who broke into her apartment after they'd been out dancing. But it didn't seem to faze him; he'd probably been able to figure it out on his own.

"You think you're just like her, don't you?" he said when she finally pulled her hand away from his face and curled her fingers close to her neck. Her answer was obvious. "Well, you're not. For starters, you're not a lonely housewife," he began, using something light at first. He felt her stiffen slightly as his words sunk in, so he added quickly, "That's not anything against your father, it's just a fact. Your only responsibilities are to yourself. You have a job you love, one that's perfectly suited to you. You have friends who will drop everything to help you when you need it, or who are willing to give you just as much space. That's a safety net."

"Come on, Woody, that's not -"

"And if you want technicalities?" he continued over the start of her protests. "You're already older than she was. You're not married - and I'm not trying to change that, by the way. You don't have any kids. You may have been arrested a few times, but you've never had to be institutionalized."

"Hey, all of those charges were dropped," she pointed out, but she was smiling again.

"Yeah, they were. Thanks to me." He returned her smile and took her hand in his so that he could have both of hers clasped against his chest, near his heart. "Do you remember the first time we went out to Hollywood, working that case? When we got stranded in the desert after our car broke down?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, her grin softening. "I remember that."

He flushed, just enough to turn the tips of his ears red. "I don't mean that part. Do you remember what we were talking about?"

"Vaguely. Care to enlighten me?"

"We were talking about recreating ourselves. You know, changing our situations to make our lives better. You may not have always gone about it in a way that worked out for the best every time, but you always tried. And that? Trying, instead of letting your emotions swallow you? That is what sets you the furthest apart from your mother. She was stuck in a never-ending circle that ended up with her on the wrong end of a bad situation. You, on the other hand...you are forever pulling yourself out of that circle." He fell silent for a moment to be sure she was listening before adding, "And that is why history will not repeat itself."

"Woody?"

"Mhmm?"

"Kiss me."

He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly, but she retracted one of her hands from his loose grasp and reached it behind his neck to pull him closer until she could press her lips to his. All he could do was lie there in shock for a moment, too surprised to respond, before his heart chased away the fear and the anger it had been battling and fully opened itself to her. He kissed her back eagerly, not ashamed this time of the new wave of tears that burned his eyes. She was coming back to him.

"Your doctor," he took a second to remember. "He said no sex."

She just gave him a large smile. "We don't need to have sex, Farm Boy. I just want you to kiss me. Make up for the time I've been…missing."

And so he kissed her again, this time gently guiding her onto her back so he could have better access to the rest of her body. He pressed his lips to her neck, kissing a line up to her ear. "Tell me if I hurt you."

She just cupped his face in her hands and brought his mouth back to hers. "You'll never hurt me, Woody."