Broken Roots
Chapter Ten: A Final Pruning
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,286
Disclaimer: I own Crossing Jordan. Um, right. That was a lie. I don't own anything. Except my own insanity. I can't even claim to own DVDs for Crossing Jordan. Okay, I can, but only season 1.
Summary: Sins of the father are passed onto the son. Sins of the mother to the daughter. And somewhere in the middle of all of that lies the truth.
Pairing: Woody/Jordan (kind of sort of... ok...eventually :) )

Author's Note: Okay, this is it. There's an epilogue left, and I'm done. Yeah, think that's about all I have to say now.

A Final Pruning

"Boxer!" Max's voice echoed through the shop. Jordan looked up from where she held a quiet but shaking Woody, who had so far been unable to answer her. She turned to Boxer, who quickly left the room. She reached to touch Woody's cheek.

"Woody, I... I'm sorry," she said. She knew none of this was her fault. It really wasn't. It wasn't his fault, either. It was one big, twisted rotten mess, and none of it was fair to any of them. It still didn't make sense, not to her, but she was afraid that it did make sense to Woody. He was the one with the answers. Again.

"Not your fault, and I've told you before, you didn't deserve any of what I've put you through," he told her quietly. "Go find them. I think it's all coming together now."

"You could just tell me, you know," she muttered, shaking her head. Oh, if only it was that easy. Not just for her, but for him. He was in a lot of pain, again, and it seemed like there was something out there, some sort of malevolent force that didn't want him to be happy. Jordan refused to believe that. It couldn't be true, and even if it was, she wouldn't let it win.

"I don't want to repeat myself, Jordan, please," he said, and she nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. She rose, walking to the door and out to the front where Boxer and her father were talking. They looked at her and stopped.

She folded her arms over her chest and glared at them. "You may as well tell me. I'm sick of this. Secrets. Promises. I should know better, but I can't believe you asked Woody not to tell anyone. Well, me. You told him not to tell me. And I shouldn't forgive either of you for that."

"Jordan, it was just—"

"It was you being you," she said coldly. "What Woody did is another matter, and we'll deal with that in time. But I know enough to fill in a few blanks for myself. First, I know that the film was something that should have solved my mom's murder. I'm not sure where you got it, but I know you brought it here for Boxer to fix up. Second, I know that what he found surprised and disgusted him, so it's not what you were expecting. And third, I know that Woody knows more, and he can put the final pieces into place."

She turned and walked back to Woody. He had picked himself up, and he was studying the film in the projector like he was ready to rip it out and burn it, destroy it. "Don't. I know what it is, what that means for you, but please... Just leave it alone."

Woody sighed. "Fine. They coming?"

She nodded again. "Yeah. They are. I think. And don't think we won't have to have a long talk after all of this. We haven't worked everything out, and you know it as well as I do."

"Years and years of penance," he muttered. He spun the reel a little and looked at the doorway again. Max and Boxer came in, Boxer behind the other man. This was a family matter. And she knew that Woody would rather that Max's old friend was not a part of this at all. They both knew that Boxer had seen the film, and that was something that Woody hated knowing, that his humiliation and torment had been witnessed by many, many people, and he would never have peace of mind where that was concerned.

"So... Boxer here tells me that this film isn't what I hoped for, and Jordan said the same thing. So, kid, what do you know? I need to know. Jordan needs to know," Max insisted.

"Of course you do. Always needing to know, whatever the cost," Woody agreed bitterly.

"Woody?" Jordan prompted gently. It didn't matter. There was no way to make this better or easy or anything of the sort. It didn't work that way, not after what he had been through. He knew that. And she knew it, too. Why they kept trying was a mystery to him. He knew better. He should have stopped years ago.

"It makes a twisted sort of sense," he began, laughing without humor. He shook his head. Jordan and Max opened their mouths to speak, but he held up a hand. "Just let me get this out, please. I know, I'm rambling and taking too long, but I need to do this my way. I don't know how else to get the words out."

He took a deep breath and studied his fingers carefully for a moment. "Malden, it's easy to assume, was a dirty cop, along with my father, Rumos, and Montelli. I don't have any proof that Malden was involved in the ring—not really. Thinking back to my last conversation with the man, I don't really like the implication of his words about watching me. Still..."

Woody wasn't the only one to shudder at those words, but he moved on. "James had the key to this box. I believe that he may have switched this film with the one that was in there. If there was a film in there. I think there might have been, and that he might have been on it, but I can't prove that. And I don't know how he got a hold of that film in particular because there was only one made. The weekend before my father's death—they filmed it and that man, whoever the hell he was, got the only copy.

"I'm not sure if James was being malicious or helpful when he did it. Obviously, if he followed you, Jordan, he knew about me, and he knew that I was the one on the film. Maybe he did it to hurt. Maybe not. But he did get a hold of something rare. Very rare," Woody pushed the memories of that film out of his mind, refusing to dwell on that day.

"If the ring was operating in Boston then, Malden was involved. Maybe not directly, not in the filming or the rest, but he got his share of the profits for his silence. If Malden was getting paid off, then he and a lot of other very important people had a lot to lose when their sideline was discovered," Woody finished, looking over at Jordan and Max.

"So," Jordan said quietly, "You think my mother found out?"

"Yes," Woody agreed. "A phone call, a meeting that wasn't as private as they thought it was... Your mother was paranoid. She might have seen or heard very little, but her mind could have... She might have been paranoid for good reason. If Malden was in it for more than money, maybe James being warped might have reasons that we hadn't considered before."

"But this doesn't fix it. It's a theory, a good one, but there's still loose ends, no proof..."

"We have that film," Woody had been hoping it wouldn't come to this. But Jordan needed this settled, like he had needed his father's death settled. "Someone directed that man to my father. And if he is still alive, then he knows who did. And we still know where Rumos is, if we need to talk to him. We just have to lean on the right person. Not that hard."

"So, we're coming full circle, are we, Hoyt?" Rumos demanded as he came into his house. Woody had broken in, and he knew that it meant that whatever evidence he got wasn't admissible in court, but this wasn't for court. This was for Jordan. He'd let her take the man on the film. If he left out that he thought Rumos would know better than the rich man who had been on the film, it was a small lie, and he didn't deserve to be forgiven for the others. He didn't want to be forgiven, but Jordan just kept on doing it. That was love. Loyal and stupid.

"I don't know about that," Woody admitted. "Full circle would have you being in a position that no one should ever be in, and me in a place that I would never be. So, no, not full circle. But I've considered many times how best to get revenge—though in my case, isn't it really vengence?—from you. I have to admit, I enjoyed planning them out."

"We're not so very different, you and me, Hoyt," Rumos said, sitting down on the couch. "But then, you're still a coward, so you're not here to hurt me. What do you want?"

"To know if a man named Malden got a share in your profits, and to know what really happened to Emily Cavanaugh. Why was she killed? Because she found out about this nasty sideline of everyone's, or something else? Something completely unrelated?"

"Why should I tell you anything, Hoyt? I gave those names you wanted, and I thought we were done. I'm not about to involve myself in a murder," Rumos leaned back in the chair, smiling smugly. Woody suppressed a shudder. He knew that look. And he hated it.

"Let's talk about Morgan Slade, shall we?" Woody asked. "You do remember Mr. Slade, don't you? I can't really forget him, seeing as how I had that visit from him just before Dad died."

Rumos' smile didn't falter, but there was a harder edge to his voice now. Good. Maybe that was just the bit of fear that he needed. "What about Slade?"

"Technically, I shouldn't know who he is, should I? But I do. And I'm not the only one. So, let's talk about Slade. Was he a frequent customer? How many others did you sell out to?" Woody sighed. This would be a lot easier if he just gave up on the rules. "Here's the thing, Rumos. I know you didn't kill Emily. You may be one sick bastard, but you're not a killer. You left that to others. And your end of the line didn't deal with too many deaths, did they? Because you had my father, didn't you? Look, I'll admit that I want you to suffer. A lot. You deserve to. But for her sake, I want to know about Emily's death."

"Oh, and the things I could ask of you for that information," Rumos said, making Woody's skin crawl. "You'd give them, too, for her, wouldn't you?"

"Are you going to tell me what you know or not?" Woody demanded, betrayed by his own voice. He heard the revulsion and disgust in it, and the fear.

"I am. Call it a gift, Hoyt. I don't owe you anything, that's for sure," Rumos said, getting to his feet. He crossed the room, and Woody rose instinctively, reaching for the gun he'd brought as insurance. It galled him how much this man still frightened him, even after their last confrontation. He had been better after the last time, and he didn't really consider this a set back, but it sure wasn't pleasant.

He refused to tell Rumos to back off. He wouldn't give the pig that satisifaction. "You don't give gifts. At least not the kind that anyone wants."

Rumos laughed. He leaned over Woody; his breath hot and rancid in his ear. "You're right, Hoyt. Malden wanted kickbacks. He wanted this kept quiet, squeaky clean. And then that man Jeffers interfered. He wasn't supposed to go after the boy. Good grief, I was already working that angle. A few well placed words to your father worked rather well, don't you think? But Jeffers was greedy. Oh, he didn't want the boy for himself, not to use, but to let someone else do the dirty work, he was okay with that as long as it got him a profit."

"So, who did it, then? Who killed Emily? Jeffers? Malden?" Woody asked, doing his best not to shudder or panic. He wanted to shove the bastard away from him, but he couldn't. Couldn't give into that fear. Not now.

"The Cavanaugh woman was a casualty of war," Rumos said, reaching out to touch him. Woody jerked back, and the other man smiled at his reaction. "But it's a simple fix, you know. Malden did it. With Emily died proof of James' paternity. Jeffers was supposed to get him as a consolation prize. No more questions. James would just...disappear. I think you can guess where."

"Yeah, I know," Woody agreed quietly. "How do you know all of this, anyway?"

"Oh, the usual," Rumos answered with a grin. "I made it all up."

"Yeah," Woody said. "I knew that, too. Let's go with the truth this time, huh? Malden found out about your little enterprise. He wanted money. So did his partner, Jeffers. You found out about Malden's son, a perfect little specimen for your games. Unwanted by his adoptive parents, the real mother was somewhat psychotic, the man who believed he was his father had given him away, and Malden couldn't afford to acknowledge him. So, you egged Jeffers into going after James. But Emily messed with your plans. Suddenly, Jeffers was dead, and James was gone, and you knew because you were watching. Then you had to act. You killed her, didn't you?"

"You are so... Damn, you're good," Rumos laughed. "I've told you that before, haven't I? Well, you're right. It's all of it true. But if your friends out there think they've won, they're wrong."

"It was never about winning," Woody told him as he shoved the piece of filth off. "It was about knowing the truth."