Thanks for the reviews! Oh, and as an add-on to the last chapter, the line about Jordan feeling like Hester Prynne is a reference from The Scarlet Letter...but I can't remember the author because high school American lit was a long time ago...

Chapter Ten: The Edge of Something

Woody rapped firmly on Jordan's door. When she didn't answer, he knocked again. Finally, he saw the peephole go dark and Jordan opened the door.

"Hi Woody," she said somewhat surprised.

"Hey…can I come in?" he asked.

"Uh, sure. I guess."

When he stepped into her apartment, Woody was shocked. It was almost completely dark; the only light came from a small lamp on her nightstand. It was messy too. Dishes piled in the sink, the bed unmade, and the couch pillows in disarray. In fact, upon a closer inspection, Jordan didn't look much better than her place.

"What do you need?" Jordan asked quietly.

"I…I just wanted to see how you were holding up. Dr. Macy said that you were taking some time off," he supplied.

"Yeah…I guess I was moving back into things too fast," she answered. He noticed then that she was hugging herself tightly, very tense.

"Okay," he said. Then he thought for a bit. "You want to go get something to eat?"

"No!" she said quickly…too quickly. "I mean…I'm not hungry right now."

"Come on, Jordan. It wouldn't be anything big. It would do you good to get out."

"No, really. I'm fine. Thanks for asking, though."

"It looks like you haven't left your place in days. We could eat outside…fresh air, the sun on your face," he tried to persuade her, giving her a classic Woody grin. He reached for her arm in an attempt to further entice her.

She jerked back. "No, Woody," she said in a panicked voice. "I don't want to go out!"

Woody opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He had seen that look before, but he couldn't remember where. Then the light bulb went on. Louis Jefferies had worn the same expression over a year ago when Woody had tried to take him in for questioning. The artist had been terrified of leaving his home…and Jordan looked the same way now.

"Okay," he gave in, not knowing exactly what to do. "Okay…we won't go." He took a step toward her and gently pulled her into his arms. She let him, but the tension didn't leave her body.

They stayed that way for several minutes. Then Woody said, "How about this, okay? I'm going to go back to work for a few hours. Why don't you take a shower, get dressed…all that stuff, and then I'll come back?"

Jordan shook her head. "No, Woody…I can't…I can't go out."

"I know, I know," he soothed. "We won't. We'll just stay here and talk. Is that all right?"

After a short pause, she nodded.

"Okay." Woody kissed her on the forehead before releasing her. "I'll be back in about two hours." She nodded again, and he left.

Exactly two hours later, Woody returned bearing Chinese…and Garret. As soon as she saw her boss, Jordan's eyes lowered. Unsure of whether she'd let him in, Garret spoke up quickly. "It wasn't Woody's idea. I knew he was going to see you this afternoon, and I asked how it went. Then I wanted to come back with him."

Her nod of understanding was almost imperceptible, but she opened the door for both of them. She looked a lot better than she had earlier. She'd even cleaned up the rooms a bit, though it was still dark. Woody took the liberty of turning on a few lights as they made their way to the couch.

They made small talk as they ate. Jordan mostly pushed the food around her plate, but her companions' constant glances caused her to finally choke down half of it.

"Jordan," Garret said when they were finished. She looked up at him. "You need to see a therapist."

She responded immediately. "No, Garret. No."

Woody didn't give her a chance to get farther. "Yes, Jordan. This is eating you alive. I don't know exactly what feelings or experiences caused this, but it's not good. You can't hide out forever."

"I'm not hiding out!"

Garret sighed. "You can't even leave your apartment," he reminded her gently. Her wide eyes switched to Woody accusingly. "Jordan, what was he supposed to do?" Garret went on. "Just forget about how afraid you are and leave you to deal with it on your own?"

She started to say something, but Woody cut in. "You do need help. It's not a weakness…I know that's hard to understand, especially coming from me, but it's not. Anyone who went through what you did would need it. You have to talk to Stiles."

"I can't!" Jordan practically screamed. "You think I don't know that I need help? You think that I want to stay like this? I don't! But I don't want to talk about it either!"

"Why—?"

"You wouldn't understand! I—you—Facing it is harder than living with it!"

Silence. The words sunk in for everyone, including Jordan herself.

Slowly, Woody reached out to take her hand. "I do understand, honey. I do. More than you know."

Garret took her other hand. "Jordan, I'm going to tell you to do something, and I want you to listen. I don't care if you never listen to another thing I say, I want you to listen to this. I'm telling you this as your boss but also, more importantly, as your friend. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Tomorrow," he said. "You're going to come to the morgue and talk with Dr. Stiles. You will talk to him at least twice a week, or more if he thinks you need it. You also will come to work everyday—" she started to protest "—not on field work, just in the morgue. You need to do this. You need some structure in your life, and you need the counseling."

"I'm going to pick you up everyday," Woody added. "You aren't going to go through this alone." He squeezed her hand.

"I-I-I can't…I can't do that," she stammered.

"Yes, you can," they both replied at the same time.

"You can," Garret repeated. "You can."