How Do You Heal A Broken Heart? part 4
Rating: PG-13
**Note ~ the LA names have come from the to be aired on 4/21 ep "Sunset" ~ thanks to a script from eBay and the description on tvguide.com**
Meanwhile in Los Angeles. . .
Woody. . . I can't quite believe I'm actually out here in LaLa-land! I never thought anything would come of my adventure with the Sunset Division last year trying to help Annie out by finding who killed her father. And then a couple of weeks ago I got this call from Owens at work. They had talked about it and were all impressed with what I'd done when I was out here. Wanted to offer me a place on their squad. Every guy's dream, right? The gun, the badge, plus all the extra new high-tech gadgets? How could I possibly pass it up? I almost did, though.
I mean, yeah, it was a great time and all when I was out here before, but I'm a small-town kind of guy pretty much. Boston is one thing. Los Angeles is quite another. This place is hugs and the pace is fast ~ neck- breaking fast! Could I really adjust to and even thrive on the lifestyle out here? But it wasn't just lifestyle. . .
I'd spent a year and a half chasing the one woman I've ever felt like was my perfect compliment, and we'd come so close so many times. But was close enough? Could I really leave Jordan? Would I be an idiot to give this chance to work with a division like this or an idiot to give up my chance with Jordan? Would she even care? I remember the conversation about the call. . .
Three weeks earlier. . . I hopped off the elevator and went down the hall to Jordan's office where, thankfully, we'd already agreed to meet to go and grab a bite to eat and "talk about things." And man did we have things to talk about today. Right before I left, I'd gotten the call from Owens offering me a spot in the Sunset Division. I needed to talk with Jordan about it and see where things stood with us. I wasn't looking forward to this conversation. We'd talked about things between us and I really felt like they were getting to a point where. . . And now this. I know I had to make a decision, I just didn't know how or what that decision was going to be.
We did lunch from time to time, but sometimes she was late getting out of autopsy. Not today. Today she was sitting at her desk staring out the window.
"Knock, knock. Can anyone enter this private reverie?"
"Oh, hey, Woody. I'm all set ~ let me just grab my bag." I'd gotten used to Jordan and her "hands off at work" policy ~ "I've got a reputation to uphold you know," she'd said, winking at me ~ but she seemed a little cold and distant as we left the building and headed towards lunch.
We walked down the street and soon found ourselves in front of the little Mexican restaurant we'd found ourselves at before I shot my first person on the job.
"Hey, Woody? Seems I remember something about the chimichangas being on me and I've never made good on that. Want to eat here?"
"Sure." Ok, Jordan looking out the window aimlessly when I came in, Jordan suggesting Tex-Mex food out of the blue. . . Does she know something? And if she does, than how?
So we went in and managed to get seated in a corner by the window. Perfect, secluded enough that maybe we could talk about this and what it could mean for me. . .for us. We ordered our food, our drinks came, and the she looked at me from across the table.
"So, Woody. What's up?"
"The usual you know. Bad guys do something, we catch them, arrest them, the D.A.'s try them, hopefully they get. . ."
"Woody."
"What?"
"I got a call last night from an old friend. An old friend you know."
"Huh?"
"You remember Chirullo?"
"Yeah. . ."
"He called."
"Any particular reason?" My heart was sinking fast. Why would he call her out of the blue? Either he was thinking of moving to Boston or. . . Owens wouldn't have talked to him would he?
"Yeah. Seems he wanted to do a background check on you. Some guy named Owens requested it? Anyway, he remembered that I was the one who sent you to him when you were out in L.A. before and just wanted to ask me some things."
"What kind of things?"
"Oh, like how you were as a detective, did you ever fly off the handle, would I trust you with my life if we were working together. Rather interesting questions from out of the blue."
"What'd you tell him?"
"The truth."
"Which is. . .?"
"You always ask your references what they said? I'll be right back. I've got to. . ." And she was off in the direction of the bathroom, probably because she didn't want me to see her cry. I'd heard her voice catch and knew instinctively that she was on the verge of tears. Not wanting to threaten her, I hadn't met her eyes ~ but I saw the fear, the hurt in them as she looked at me and told me about her phone call.
She returned in a few minutes, just in time for our food to come ~ food I doubted would get eaten. She was trying to cover, but I could definitely tell that she'd been crying. "You ok?"
"Yeah. Great. Oh, here's our food." The server put the food down, and after checking to make sure we were fine, quickly left us alone.
"Jordan, I. . ."
"What the hell is this about Woody? Why is someone in Los Angeles doing a background check on references? Are you looking for a job out there?"
"I'm not looking Jordan; they're looking at me."
"What?"
"You remember that special unit I was telling you about from when I was in L.A. before? The Sunset Division?"
"Yeah. . ."
"The guy I worked with the most, the Owens that Chirullo mentioned, he. . .he. . ."
"He what, Woody?"
"He called me up this morning ~ just before I came to pick you up actually ~ and offered me a spot on the squad." She just sat there and looked at me. I still had difficulty reading her from time to time, and at that moment her face was inscrutable. "Jordan?"
"Are you going to take it?" The voice was so tiny I could hardly believe it belonged to Jordan ~ and I could hardly hear her.
"What?"
"I said, are you going to take it?"
"I don't know, Jordan. I've got a lot of things to sort through. The most important one is us."
"Us?"
"Us ~ you know, you and me? Our. . . What is this exactly that we have?"
"I thought it was a relationship, but maybe I was wrong."
"No, I think we've got a relationship too ~ I just wasn't sure. . ."
"If I'd freak out if you put a label on it? Give me a little credit, Woody."
"I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and looked at me. There was a long pause before she said anything. I opted to keep my mouth shut for fear of inserting my foot yet again.
"So what do you want to know about 'us' and this job offer?"
"Jordan, I know it's taken a while for us to develop this relationship, and I don't just want to throw it away. I need to know. . ."
"Woody, I can't promise that this is forever. I just can't. Do I care about you? Yes. Do I want you to be happy? Yes. Do I want you in my life? Yes. Believe it or not, Woody Hoyt, I've actually broken my one cardinal rule of relationships with you."
"What's that?"
"I've fallen in love with you, Woody."
"What?"
"I love you. I love you. I. . ." And she threw the money I hadn't even noticed she'd pulled from her wallet onto the table for the bill, grabbed her bag, and ran out the door, unable to hide the tears that were falling from her huge brown eyes.
Shit. I never meant for this to happen. I quickly made sure there was enough on the table for the bill and a decent tip, then I ran out the door, but she was gone ~ nowhere to be found.
I ran down a couple of streets, but catching no sign of her, I decided the best thing was to head back to the precinct and give her a little time to get back to the morgue; then I'd call her, or better yet go by.
A couple of hours later I found myself back at the morgue getting off the same elevator. Nigel saw me in the hall and came out from behind the computer he was working at.
"If you're looking for Jordan, she's not here mate."
"What? Is she on a case?"
"No."
"Please tell me she came back from lunch."
"Oh, she came back alright. She and Lily locked themselves in Lily's office for about an hour, then Garret went in for a few minutes. Then she came out and left. Garret just said that he'd sent her home."
"Shit."
"I take it something happened between you two?"
"Sort of."
"Listen Woodrow, I don't give advice about Jordan often ~ hell, I'd hardly know what to say ~ but I've never seen her like this. Go and talk to her, figure out a way to work things out, or at least live with things as they are."
"You really think that she'll. . ."
"Detective Hoyt?!?"
"Dr. Macy. . ."
"Will you step into my office for a minute, please?"
"Of course, sir." Nigel looked at me as if to say "good luck, mate" as I cautiously moved towards Garret's office.
"Come in and have a seat Woody."
"Yes sir." So I moved into his office to hear the door click shut behind me. Feeling like I'd been sent to the principal's office, I took a seat on the sofa along the wall and waited for the lecture to begin.
"Woody, you can relax. I'm not going to yell at you."
"Alright." He sat down next to me, somewhat shattering the school kid- principal drama running through my mind.
"We've worked together on a few cases, and I feel like I've gotten to know you pretty well."
"Yes sir. I agree."
"And I've watched you chase Jordan ever since you got here."
"Yes sir."
"And, to my amazement, I've watched her fall in love with you."
"You. . .?"
"Now, I don't know what happened with the two of you at lunch, but I do know that I've not seen Jordan like this over any man before."
"I. . . Garret, what does this have to do. . .?"
"Woody, Jordan's more than just a co-worker to me ~ she's like a kid sister. And I'll always do whatever it takes to help her and protect her."
"Um. . ."
"That being said, the two of you are going to have to continue to work together. Even if you go to another precinct, we're the morgue."
"Garret, I don't understand exactly what you're saying."
"Woody, I'm saying please go and talk to her. You don't have to. . . Just talk to her. Talk through whatever happened with the two of you at lunch. I don't care if the two of you end up married with kids ~ Jordan with kids sort of frightens me, but I digress ~ but I do care that you maintain a good working relationship."
"Yes sir."
"Now, I sent her home about a half hour ago. I doubt she'd go to Max's in the state she was in ~ she likes to be alone with her misery. Why don't you try her apartment first, then the Pogue if she's not there. I made her promise me that she wouldn't run away."
"Huh?" I started to reach for my cell phone, thinking that perhaps if I called her first.
"Long story. But put the phone away, Woody. This is a conversation that's supposed to happen face to face."
"Yes sir."
"Now get out of here."
So I drove over to Jordan's building. She'd told me the code one time before when I had to get the coat I'd left after dinner the night before out of her place while she was stuck in an autopsy she couldn't leave, so I decided to bypass the buzzer and go right up. I got to the huge door and knocked. I heard her moving towards the door, then a muffled voice came through. . .
"What do you want, Woody?"
"Jordan, I want to talk to you. Please." Slowly I heard the locks being released and the door swung open. She was in sweats and a tank top, her hair pulled into a ponytail. There were no tears on her face, but her eyes were red and slightly swollen.
She moved towards the futon ~ which was set up as a couch at the moment ~ and sat down. I waited to see where she wanted me to go, and to my surprise, she motioned for me to join her on the futon. I sat down, turned to her, and reached out for her hand.
"Jordan, I'm sorry."
"I love you, Woody."
"I. . . Oh God, Jordan, I love you too."
"But you want to leave."
"Jordan, I don't know."
"But the job. . ."
"Sweetie, I did not apply for this. I promise you. This offer came out of the blue."
"When?"
"Like I said at the restaurant, Owens called me this morning right before lunch. I had no idea they were even looking at me in any way."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, I liked working with them, but even being from the Boston P.D. now I felt like they all looked at me as some little hick kid who got lost and came to play for a while in the big kids' sandbox. I never thought they'd even consider me for a spot there. I never even asked what one would have to do if one wanted to work with them. I. . ."
"I believe you."
"You do?"
"Yeah. The look on your face when I said Hector had called. You really need to work on your poker face, farm boy."
"Oh." I thought I saw the beginnings of a smile on her face with that comment, but I wasn't sure.
"So, what are you gonna do?"
"Jordan, I don't know yet. I mean, if I'm being honest I'd have to say that I would love to work with that group. They are incredible. But then I look at everything I've got here, and this fits too."
She squeezed my hand, which she'd been holding since I sat down, even harder and slid and leaned forward until her face was thisclose to mine. She just sat there for a minute and then placed her lips on mine. It was one of the slowest, deepest kisses we'd ever shared. Hell, it was one of the slowest, deepest kisses I'd ever experienced. And definitely full of meaning. When our lips broke apart, she kept her face right up to mine.
"I didn't do that so you'd stay, Woody. I need you to understand how much I love you. Even if you leave ~ I love you."
"I love you too, Jordan. So much." She still wasn't moving.
"Woody?"
"Yeah?"
"Make love with me?" It was a question, not a demand. A question so full of emotion and chances she probably never allowed herself to feel. For the first time since this whole thing with us started, I felt just how deeply Jordan cared for me and just how big of a risk this really was for her.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. And I'm not. . . Woody, even if you decide to take this job, I want you. I need you, Woody. I love you." And she kissed me again, deeper even than before. Her arms went around my neck and my arms went around her back. Neither of us seemed in a hurry to finish, and so everything was deliciously, sometimes excruciatingly slow. Slowly all our clothes disappeared, and I gently picked her up to transform the futon from sofa to bed. I gently lay her down as we continued to kiss each other, our kisses and our bodies saying everything our minds and mouths couldn't. . .
Afterwards, we lay entwined in each other's arms for what seemed like hours. It was almost as if we were both afraid to move, to speak, to do anything to break the magic of the moment. I looked down at Jordan, and couldn't tell if she was sleeping or just "resting her eyes" and savoring the sensation of everything that had happened. Finally I reached up and stroked her long, dark hair. She stirred a little and looked up at me.
"Hey you."
"Hey."
"Woody? I love you."
"I love you too Jordan. I love you too."
"So, what are we gonna do now? I mean. . ."
"Well, I've got a couple of days until I have to let them know anything. So let's not think about that right now."
"Ok."
"But for the immediate future, I don't want to break the mood or anything, but I didn't exactly eat a lot at lunch, and I'm pretty hungry." Thankfully she laughed out loud at that. She sat up, pulling the sheet around her, and leaned over and gave me a kiss.
"Well, I don't have anything worth eating here, so I guess we're gonna have to go out. And since I bought lunch. . ."
"I know, I know. My turn to buy." A playfully tossed a pillow at her as she disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later I heard the shower running and suppressed the urge to join her. I settled for a quick sponge off at the kitchen sink and then pulled my clothes back on.
We spent as much time together as our jobs would permit for the next day and a half. Breakfast ~ or coffee and a croissant on the way to work, lunch, dinner, evenings at the Pogue then back to her place. I had to go by my place to get some stuff, but I knew that she felt safe in her place and didn't push her to transfer to mine. Separating was excruciating. I hated leaving her side for even a minute. So things should have been easy, right? I had the woman of my dreams and we were so in love. But. . .
As much in love with her as I was and as much fun as we were having, a dark cloud was hanging over my head. I'm sure Jordan sensed it, hell she probably felt it too, but she did her best to ignore it. The email from Owens came the morning after our first time together with the details of the offer. The bottom line was, with the career opportunities and the money, it was a hard offer to pass up. But not passing up that opportunity meant passing up the woman I loved, the life we could have had together.
I knew Jordan couldn't move back to L.A. and still work as an M.E. That bridge had been burned, and unlike Garret, her former boss there was not into rebuilding. I couldn't ask her to give up a job and a workplace she loved not knowing where she'd work somewhere else. I couldn't ask her to leave her father, her friends, her support structure.
And yet I couldn't ask myself to pass up an offer like this. The Boston P.D. was great and I loved working there. But in many ways it really was an old boys' club ~ all about who you know and how you're related. That made promotion difficult. This job with the Sunset Division. . . I knew what I had to do. As much as it hurt me, hurt Jordan, I had to take the job. Maybe we could hold things together long-distance what with email, phone calls, frequent flyer miles. And maybe in a little while Jordan's old boss would be gone and/or she would have proven herself enough to get her L.A. job back. Or maybe there was some way I could find for the sunset Division to use her. Or maybe I'd hate it. The only thing I knew for sure was that I'd hate myself if I didn't take the chance that this job presented. But how to tell Jordan. . .?
Back to present-day. . . As it turns out, I took the chicken-shit way out. I'm not proud of it, but I couldn't bring myself to face her eyes when I told her. So I left. We'd made love and she was curled up in my arms, sound asleep. Around 3am, I slowly slid our from under her and held my breath as she moved in her sleep, praying that she wouldn't wake up. She didn't. I quietly got dressed and gathered the things I'd left at her place for convenience, putting them in a bag I'd brought with me. I set the bag down at the door and went back to take one last look at Jordan. She looked like an angel lying there on the bed. I leaned over and gently kissed her lips, then I went to the door. One long look back, and I left.
It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, walking out that door when every fiber of my being was screaming for me to turn around and stay with Jordan. I didn't know what I was walking into, but I knew what I was leaving behind. I already hated myself, but I knew I'd hate myself just as much if I passed up this chance. And I didn't even want to think about Jordan's face the next morning when I wasn't there and there was no answer at my house ~ and then she called the precinct and found out. . . The thought of the pain that would be there was too much for me to take. I felt sick just thinking about it. If the taxi I'd ordered before going to see Jordan hadn't been there, I don't know what I would have done.
The waiting taxi driver put my bag into the car, and we headed to my apartment to collect the other bags I'd already packed. At the airport, I dropped a note in the mailbox. I know, chicken-shit! But I knew if I left a note at her place, she'd come to me and ask me to stay. If she asked me to stay, I don't know that I could resist. And if I did stay, I didn't want to think of how I might grow to resent her for asking me to give up this chance. With a mailed note, it would at least give me the chance to get out of town. And I put the phone number for Sunset Division in the note. I promised I'd call her with my new number and that we'd stay in touch and I'd visit as much as possible. I told her I loved her. . .
I was an idiot!
**Note ~ the LA names have come from the to be aired on 4/21 ep "Sunset" ~ thanks to a script from eBay and the description on tvguide.com**
Meanwhile in Los Angeles. . .
Woody. . . I can't quite believe I'm actually out here in LaLa-land! I never thought anything would come of my adventure with the Sunset Division last year trying to help Annie out by finding who killed her father. And then a couple of weeks ago I got this call from Owens at work. They had talked about it and were all impressed with what I'd done when I was out here. Wanted to offer me a place on their squad. Every guy's dream, right? The gun, the badge, plus all the extra new high-tech gadgets? How could I possibly pass it up? I almost did, though.
I mean, yeah, it was a great time and all when I was out here before, but I'm a small-town kind of guy pretty much. Boston is one thing. Los Angeles is quite another. This place is hugs and the pace is fast ~ neck- breaking fast! Could I really adjust to and even thrive on the lifestyle out here? But it wasn't just lifestyle. . .
I'd spent a year and a half chasing the one woman I've ever felt like was my perfect compliment, and we'd come so close so many times. But was close enough? Could I really leave Jordan? Would I be an idiot to give this chance to work with a division like this or an idiot to give up my chance with Jordan? Would she even care? I remember the conversation about the call. . .
Three weeks earlier. . . I hopped off the elevator and went down the hall to Jordan's office where, thankfully, we'd already agreed to meet to go and grab a bite to eat and "talk about things." And man did we have things to talk about today. Right before I left, I'd gotten the call from Owens offering me a spot in the Sunset Division. I needed to talk with Jordan about it and see where things stood with us. I wasn't looking forward to this conversation. We'd talked about things between us and I really felt like they were getting to a point where. . . And now this. I know I had to make a decision, I just didn't know how or what that decision was going to be.
We did lunch from time to time, but sometimes she was late getting out of autopsy. Not today. Today she was sitting at her desk staring out the window.
"Knock, knock. Can anyone enter this private reverie?"
"Oh, hey, Woody. I'm all set ~ let me just grab my bag." I'd gotten used to Jordan and her "hands off at work" policy ~ "I've got a reputation to uphold you know," she'd said, winking at me ~ but she seemed a little cold and distant as we left the building and headed towards lunch.
We walked down the street and soon found ourselves in front of the little Mexican restaurant we'd found ourselves at before I shot my first person on the job.
"Hey, Woody? Seems I remember something about the chimichangas being on me and I've never made good on that. Want to eat here?"
"Sure." Ok, Jordan looking out the window aimlessly when I came in, Jordan suggesting Tex-Mex food out of the blue. . . Does she know something? And if she does, than how?
So we went in and managed to get seated in a corner by the window. Perfect, secluded enough that maybe we could talk about this and what it could mean for me. . .for us. We ordered our food, our drinks came, and the she looked at me from across the table.
"So, Woody. What's up?"
"The usual you know. Bad guys do something, we catch them, arrest them, the D.A.'s try them, hopefully they get. . ."
"Woody."
"What?"
"I got a call last night from an old friend. An old friend you know."
"Huh?"
"You remember Chirullo?"
"Yeah. . ."
"He called."
"Any particular reason?" My heart was sinking fast. Why would he call her out of the blue? Either he was thinking of moving to Boston or. . . Owens wouldn't have talked to him would he?
"Yeah. Seems he wanted to do a background check on you. Some guy named Owens requested it? Anyway, he remembered that I was the one who sent you to him when you were out in L.A. before and just wanted to ask me some things."
"What kind of things?"
"Oh, like how you were as a detective, did you ever fly off the handle, would I trust you with my life if we were working together. Rather interesting questions from out of the blue."
"What'd you tell him?"
"The truth."
"Which is. . .?"
"You always ask your references what they said? I'll be right back. I've got to. . ." And she was off in the direction of the bathroom, probably because she didn't want me to see her cry. I'd heard her voice catch and knew instinctively that she was on the verge of tears. Not wanting to threaten her, I hadn't met her eyes ~ but I saw the fear, the hurt in them as she looked at me and told me about her phone call.
She returned in a few minutes, just in time for our food to come ~ food I doubted would get eaten. She was trying to cover, but I could definitely tell that she'd been crying. "You ok?"
"Yeah. Great. Oh, here's our food." The server put the food down, and after checking to make sure we were fine, quickly left us alone.
"Jordan, I. . ."
"What the hell is this about Woody? Why is someone in Los Angeles doing a background check on references? Are you looking for a job out there?"
"I'm not looking Jordan; they're looking at me."
"What?"
"You remember that special unit I was telling you about from when I was in L.A. before? The Sunset Division?"
"Yeah. . ."
"The guy I worked with the most, the Owens that Chirullo mentioned, he. . .he. . ."
"He what, Woody?"
"He called me up this morning ~ just before I came to pick you up actually ~ and offered me a spot on the squad." She just sat there and looked at me. I still had difficulty reading her from time to time, and at that moment her face was inscrutable. "Jordan?"
"Are you going to take it?" The voice was so tiny I could hardly believe it belonged to Jordan ~ and I could hardly hear her.
"What?"
"I said, are you going to take it?"
"I don't know, Jordan. I've got a lot of things to sort through. The most important one is us."
"Us?"
"Us ~ you know, you and me? Our. . . What is this exactly that we have?"
"I thought it was a relationship, but maybe I was wrong."
"No, I think we've got a relationship too ~ I just wasn't sure. . ."
"If I'd freak out if you put a label on it? Give me a little credit, Woody."
"I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and looked at me. There was a long pause before she said anything. I opted to keep my mouth shut for fear of inserting my foot yet again.
"So what do you want to know about 'us' and this job offer?"
"Jordan, I know it's taken a while for us to develop this relationship, and I don't just want to throw it away. I need to know. . ."
"Woody, I can't promise that this is forever. I just can't. Do I care about you? Yes. Do I want you to be happy? Yes. Do I want you in my life? Yes. Believe it or not, Woody Hoyt, I've actually broken my one cardinal rule of relationships with you."
"What's that?"
"I've fallen in love with you, Woody."
"What?"
"I love you. I love you. I. . ." And she threw the money I hadn't even noticed she'd pulled from her wallet onto the table for the bill, grabbed her bag, and ran out the door, unable to hide the tears that were falling from her huge brown eyes.
Shit. I never meant for this to happen. I quickly made sure there was enough on the table for the bill and a decent tip, then I ran out the door, but she was gone ~ nowhere to be found.
I ran down a couple of streets, but catching no sign of her, I decided the best thing was to head back to the precinct and give her a little time to get back to the morgue; then I'd call her, or better yet go by.
A couple of hours later I found myself back at the morgue getting off the same elevator. Nigel saw me in the hall and came out from behind the computer he was working at.
"If you're looking for Jordan, she's not here mate."
"What? Is she on a case?"
"No."
"Please tell me she came back from lunch."
"Oh, she came back alright. She and Lily locked themselves in Lily's office for about an hour, then Garret went in for a few minutes. Then she came out and left. Garret just said that he'd sent her home."
"Shit."
"I take it something happened between you two?"
"Sort of."
"Listen Woodrow, I don't give advice about Jordan often ~ hell, I'd hardly know what to say ~ but I've never seen her like this. Go and talk to her, figure out a way to work things out, or at least live with things as they are."
"You really think that she'll. . ."
"Detective Hoyt?!?"
"Dr. Macy. . ."
"Will you step into my office for a minute, please?"
"Of course, sir." Nigel looked at me as if to say "good luck, mate" as I cautiously moved towards Garret's office.
"Come in and have a seat Woody."
"Yes sir." So I moved into his office to hear the door click shut behind me. Feeling like I'd been sent to the principal's office, I took a seat on the sofa along the wall and waited for the lecture to begin.
"Woody, you can relax. I'm not going to yell at you."
"Alright." He sat down next to me, somewhat shattering the school kid- principal drama running through my mind.
"We've worked together on a few cases, and I feel like I've gotten to know you pretty well."
"Yes sir. I agree."
"And I've watched you chase Jordan ever since you got here."
"Yes sir."
"And, to my amazement, I've watched her fall in love with you."
"You. . .?"
"Now, I don't know what happened with the two of you at lunch, but I do know that I've not seen Jordan like this over any man before."
"I. . . Garret, what does this have to do. . .?"
"Woody, Jordan's more than just a co-worker to me ~ she's like a kid sister. And I'll always do whatever it takes to help her and protect her."
"Um. . ."
"That being said, the two of you are going to have to continue to work together. Even if you go to another precinct, we're the morgue."
"Garret, I don't understand exactly what you're saying."
"Woody, I'm saying please go and talk to her. You don't have to. . . Just talk to her. Talk through whatever happened with the two of you at lunch. I don't care if the two of you end up married with kids ~ Jordan with kids sort of frightens me, but I digress ~ but I do care that you maintain a good working relationship."
"Yes sir."
"Now, I sent her home about a half hour ago. I doubt she'd go to Max's in the state she was in ~ she likes to be alone with her misery. Why don't you try her apartment first, then the Pogue if she's not there. I made her promise me that she wouldn't run away."
"Huh?" I started to reach for my cell phone, thinking that perhaps if I called her first.
"Long story. But put the phone away, Woody. This is a conversation that's supposed to happen face to face."
"Yes sir."
"Now get out of here."
So I drove over to Jordan's building. She'd told me the code one time before when I had to get the coat I'd left after dinner the night before out of her place while she was stuck in an autopsy she couldn't leave, so I decided to bypass the buzzer and go right up. I got to the huge door and knocked. I heard her moving towards the door, then a muffled voice came through. . .
"What do you want, Woody?"
"Jordan, I want to talk to you. Please." Slowly I heard the locks being released and the door swung open. She was in sweats and a tank top, her hair pulled into a ponytail. There were no tears on her face, but her eyes were red and slightly swollen.
She moved towards the futon ~ which was set up as a couch at the moment ~ and sat down. I waited to see where she wanted me to go, and to my surprise, she motioned for me to join her on the futon. I sat down, turned to her, and reached out for her hand.
"Jordan, I'm sorry."
"I love you, Woody."
"I. . . Oh God, Jordan, I love you too."
"But you want to leave."
"Jordan, I don't know."
"But the job. . ."
"Sweetie, I did not apply for this. I promise you. This offer came out of the blue."
"When?"
"Like I said at the restaurant, Owens called me this morning right before lunch. I had no idea they were even looking at me in any way."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, I liked working with them, but even being from the Boston P.D. now I felt like they all looked at me as some little hick kid who got lost and came to play for a while in the big kids' sandbox. I never thought they'd even consider me for a spot there. I never even asked what one would have to do if one wanted to work with them. I. . ."
"I believe you."
"You do?"
"Yeah. The look on your face when I said Hector had called. You really need to work on your poker face, farm boy."
"Oh." I thought I saw the beginnings of a smile on her face with that comment, but I wasn't sure.
"So, what are you gonna do?"
"Jordan, I don't know yet. I mean, if I'm being honest I'd have to say that I would love to work with that group. They are incredible. But then I look at everything I've got here, and this fits too."
She squeezed my hand, which she'd been holding since I sat down, even harder and slid and leaned forward until her face was thisclose to mine. She just sat there for a minute and then placed her lips on mine. It was one of the slowest, deepest kisses we'd ever shared. Hell, it was one of the slowest, deepest kisses I'd ever experienced. And definitely full of meaning. When our lips broke apart, she kept her face right up to mine.
"I didn't do that so you'd stay, Woody. I need you to understand how much I love you. Even if you leave ~ I love you."
"I love you too, Jordan. So much." She still wasn't moving.
"Woody?"
"Yeah?"
"Make love with me?" It was a question, not a demand. A question so full of emotion and chances she probably never allowed herself to feel. For the first time since this whole thing with us started, I felt just how deeply Jordan cared for me and just how big of a risk this really was for her.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. And I'm not. . . Woody, even if you decide to take this job, I want you. I need you, Woody. I love you." And she kissed me again, deeper even than before. Her arms went around my neck and my arms went around her back. Neither of us seemed in a hurry to finish, and so everything was deliciously, sometimes excruciatingly slow. Slowly all our clothes disappeared, and I gently picked her up to transform the futon from sofa to bed. I gently lay her down as we continued to kiss each other, our kisses and our bodies saying everything our minds and mouths couldn't. . .
Afterwards, we lay entwined in each other's arms for what seemed like hours. It was almost as if we were both afraid to move, to speak, to do anything to break the magic of the moment. I looked down at Jordan, and couldn't tell if she was sleeping or just "resting her eyes" and savoring the sensation of everything that had happened. Finally I reached up and stroked her long, dark hair. She stirred a little and looked up at me.
"Hey you."
"Hey."
"Woody? I love you."
"I love you too Jordan. I love you too."
"So, what are we gonna do now? I mean. . ."
"Well, I've got a couple of days until I have to let them know anything. So let's not think about that right now."
"Ok."
"But for the immediate future, I don't want to break the mood or anything, but I didn't exactly eat a lot at lunch, and I'm pretty hungry." Thankfully she laughed out loud at that. She sat up, pulling the sheet around her, and leaned over and gave me a kiss.
"Well, I don't have anything worth eating here, so I guess we're gonna have to go out. And since I bought lunch. . ."
"I know, I know. My turn to buy." A playfully tossed a pillow at her as she disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later I heard the shower running and suppressed the urge to join her. I settled for a quick sponge off at the kitchen sink and then pulled my clothes back on.
We spent as much time together as our jobs would permit for the next day and a half. Breakfast ~ or coffee and a croissant on the way to work, lunch, dinner, evenings at the Pogue then back to her place. I had to go by my place to get some stuff, but I knew that she felt safe in her place and didn't push her to transfer to mine. Separating was excruciating. I hated leaving her side for even a minute. So things should have been easy, right? I had the woman of my dreams and we were so in love. But. . .
As much in love with her as I was and as much fun as we were having, a dark cloud was hanging over my head. I'm sure Jordan sensed it, hell she probably felt it too, but she did her best to ignore it. The email from Owens came the morning after our first time together with the details of the offer. The bottom line was, with the career opportunities and the money, it was a hard offer to pass up. But not passing up that opportunity meant passing up the woman I loved, the life we could have had together.
I knew Jordan couldn't move back to L.A. and still work as an M.E. That bridge had been burned, and unlike Garret, her former boss there was not into rebuilding. I couldn't ask her to give up a job and a workplace she loved not knowing where she'd work somewhere else. I couldn't ask her to leave her father, her friends, her support structure.
And yet I couldn't ask myself to pass up an offer like this. The Boston P.D. was great and I loved working there. But in many ways it really was an old boys' club ~ all about who you know and how you're related. That made promotion difficult. This job with the Sunset Division. . . I knew what I had to do. As much as it hurt me, hurt Jordan, I had to take the job. Maybe we could hold things together long-distance what with email, phone calls, frequent flyer miles. And maybe in a little while Jordan's old boss would be gone and/or she would have proven herself enough to get her L.A. job back. Or maybe there was some way I could find for the sunset Division to use her. Or maybe I'd hate it. The only thing I knew for sure was that I'd hate myself if I didn't take the chance that this job presented. But how to tell Jordan. . .?
Back to present-day. . . As it turns out, I took the chicken-shit way out. I'm not proud of it, but I couldn't bring myself to face her eyes when I told her. So I left. We'd made love and she was curled up in my arms, sound asleep. Around 3am, I slowly slid our from under her and held my breath as she moved in her sleep, praying that she wouldn't wake up. She didn't. I quietly got dressed and gathered the things I'd left at her place for convenience, putting them in a bag I'd brought with me. I set the bag down at the door and went back to take one last look at Jordan. She looked like an angel lying there on the bed. I leaned over and gently kissed her lips, then I went to the door. One long look back, and I left.
It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, walking out that door when every fiber of my being was screaming for me to turn around and stay with Jordan. I didn't know what I was walking into, but I knew what I was leaving behind. I already hated myself, but I knew I'd hate myself just as much if I passed up this chance. And I didn't even want to think about Jordan's face the next morning when I wasn't there and there was no answer at my house ~ and then she called the precinct and found out. . . The thought of the pain that would be there was too much for me to take. I felt sick just thinking about it. If the taxi I'd ordered before going to see Jordan hadn't been there, I don't know what I would have done.
The waiting taxi driver put my bag into the car, and we headed to my apartment to collect the other bags I'd already packed. At the airport, I dropped a note in the mailbox. I know, chicken-shit! But I knew if I left a note at her place, she'd come to me and ask me to stay. If she asked me to stay, I don't know that I could resist. And if I did stay, I didn't want to think of how I might grow to resent her for asking me to give up this chance. With a mailed note, it would at least give me the chance to get out of town. And I put the phone number for Sunset Division in the note. I promised I'd call her with my new number and that we'd stay in touch and I'd visit as much as possible. I told her I loved her. . .
I was an idiot!
