T/W: This chapter involves the topic of self-harm/cutting.
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"I'm fine!" Jordan played off, her half-smile her mask as the paramedics gave her a once over. Apart from being dehydrated and a few cuts and bruises, she was given a clean bill of health.
It had been a terrifying night as they desperately searched for Jordan and the two boys, and Nigel was scared that if he blinked, she'd disappear. He was already angry enough with himself that it had taken him over twelve hours to realize she was missing. He had thought she was home, sleeping off her cold in the safety of their apartment. That's what he told himself when his calls had gone straight to voicemail, and he had reassured himself that once they got a promising lead, he'd head right over to check in and bring her some hot soup. Never once did he have a feeling that anything was off. He had been so caught up looking for the boys that he had failed to look after the one person that mattered most to him. He swore he'd never let something like this happen again.
"No-no-no-no-no, don't go there!"
"I didn't say anything, luv."
"It wasn't what you were saying, it's what you're thinking. And, no, you are not microchipping me."
He smiled through his tears, thankful to see that his Jordan was still there, "We tracked the GPS on your phone, and that was after we tired the one on your car, so you are already microchipped, pet."
She leaned back in the ambulance bed, "Nige, can we go home?"
"Yeah, luv, we can."
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Nigel tried washing away the day, but the nightmares refused to leave him. He could still see his monitor, clear as day, when the match came back as Jordan's. His heart raced, thinking about the time they had wasted trying to get ahold of her, it was made worse when he remembered how he had rushed home only to find an empty apartment and no sign of his beloved. They had raced to the trailhead once they had pinged her phone and trapsed through the woods for hours only to find the shaft sealed off. Never had he felt so empty, so hopeless.
"You alright in there?" Jordan called.
"Yeah, just finishing up."
He quickly shut the water off and reached for a towel, wishing more than anything for an escape from his torrent of thoughts. The important thing was that they had found her, they had found the boys. Yes, he had almost lost Jordan, but he didn't. That's what mattered, that's what he needed to focus on. Of course, that was easier said than done.
Nigel pulled his shirt on as he headed out of the bedroom only to stumble across a picnic, "What's this?"
"Well, we missed our anniversary." Jordan simpered, laying just so in nothing but one of his shirts, her feet played behind her.
"Are you trying to seduce me, Dr. Cavanaugh?" He teased.
She winked, "Is it working?"
"Maybe." He moved to join her, laughing at the spread of crackers topped with cheese spray, a can of expired olives, and a bottle of red wine, "You sure know how to treat a man."
She popped the cork, "I try."
He accepted the glass she offered, and she saw the angry scars on his arm. They stood out so violently against his pale skin. Of course, she had noticed them long before then. She even had a faint memory of them from years ago, but she, for all her ball busting and pushiness, had been too timid to ask, knowing how personal their story probably was.
"They are always so red after you shower." The thought had escaped before she could think better of it. Clearing her throat, she hurried to pour her drink, trying to think up a change in topic.
Nigel had started to roll his sleeve down but stopped. Occasionally, he'd catch her staring at them, lost in her thoughts, but she'd never pushed him to talk about them.
If they were in this for the long haul, he couldn't afford to hold anything back.
"It started when I was around 15." He shared, studying the thin, red lines on his forearm. They had healed, but their memory would always remain, "Couple months after my Mum passed. It continued till a year or so after my discharge."
"Is that why you always wear long sleeves?" He nodded and she swirled her glass, "I'm surprised the Navy didn't have a problem with it."
"They make a lot of people uncomfortable, and it's easier to pretend you didn't see anything." Nigel shrugged, "And I was important enough that my commander looked the other way."
It broke her heart. Perhaps they hadn't meant to, but their actions had probably only served to undercut his self-worth further. Jordan laid her head down, beginning to caress his fingers and then his palms until she was lovingly tracing his old wounds, "What made you stop?"
He smiled, "Dr. Macy. He asked me how much I wanted to keep my job."
"And you could stop, just like that?" She asked, knowing how some of her friends had struggled to master similar addictions for years, and they would continue to fight the urge for the rest of their lives. Demons never really left; you simply learned to coexist and keep them at bay most days, clinging to whatever hope you could to keep fighting.
"For the most part. I just threw myself into my work, learning whatever I could to distract myself. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't."
"You don't have any new ones." It was a breath almost with which she spoke. She knew every inch of him, every curve, every freckle, every mole. The scares weren't just on his arms but his legs as well, though they all were well over six years old.
He grinned, remembering the solace he had found in his darkest hour, "Guess I found something worth living for." The way he looked at her, she knew that she was his light.
She smiled softly, ready for a happier note to the evening, "So that's how long you've been pining for me?"
"And now I am trapped, having to praise your shoddy cooking skills." He popped one of the crackers in his mouth, forcing it down.
Jordan laughed and lay back, savoring the moment. She knew Lily would have a whole lecture on the reasons it was a terrible idea to based one's recovering around a person, but Jordan didn't care.
Life wasn't textbooks and checkboxes and reason; it was real and messy and grey. Sometimes you had to find hope wherever you could just to keep moving forward, to go on one more day, to begin the climb out. Unless you had been trapped in the pit yourself, you'd never really understand.
"Would you have it any other way?" Jordan mused.
Nigel leaned over and kissed her, treasuring her, "Not on your life. Happy anniversary, luv."
She sighed, moving to lay her head in his lap. Finally, the weight of the day caught up to her and she allowed herself to cry. For Kevin, for Dany, for Todd. For their families. For herself.
Nigel sat with her, lovingly stroking her hair. The wound would become a scar soon enough, but she needed to get it out, and he would sit with her as long as she needed him to.
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