When You Come Back Down
Chapter 3
Rating: PG-13
Not mine! They're just using my head for a playground! :0)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Garret tried to decide where to go to look for Jordan. He figured she'd be at the Pogue or her place ~ or maybe Max's house. A blood-chilling thought ran through his head as he got into his car. What if Jordan had been with him and he just hadn't given her the gift yet. . . He decided not to think about that until he exhausted his other options.
He pulled up and parked outside the Pogue. He didn't see the Explorer anywhere, but that could mean nothing. Maybe Max had picked her up and she was playing bar wench again. Because of the stairs, it was hard to see in the window, so he opened the door and went in. A quick glance said she wasn't there, but Max had already spotted him.
"Garret! Come on down here. What's going on?"
"Hey Max. I can't stay. I was just. . . Have you seen Jordan tonight?"
"No. Well, not since about 5 when she left work. She came in to beg off helping out. Said she had a headache or something. Why?"
"I just. . . There's something I need to tell her. . ." Garret was distracted by the newscast on the small television behind Max. It was a reporter at the scene. "Can you turn that up a little?"
"Sure." Max reached for the volume. They watched the reporter speaking. . .
"To recap, this alley was the scene of a brutal, apparently gang-related beating that resulted in the death of one person. The police say that an identification has been made, but the name is not being released pending notification of the family. The officers we talked to had not even been informed of the victim's name. All they could confirm was that the victim was a male."
"Turn it back down." Garret breathed a slight sigh of relief.
"You catch that one tonight?" Max knew how brutal they could be, and things had gotten so much worse since he left the force.
"Yeah." Garret swallowed, willing himself to stay strong. Something not unnoticed by Max.
"Garret? What's wrong? Is it someone that Abby knew? Are you. . .?"
"No. It's nothing to do with Abby. Just. . . Max, I need to go." He didn't want to tell Max before Jordan, not directly anyway. "But do me a favor? Pray as hard as you ever have tonight. Harder. Please?"
"Alright. Of course. But. . ."
"I'll be back to talk with you later. I promise. There's something I need to do right now." Garret put a hand on Max's and squeezed it. Then he walked up the stairs and out the door.
Max watched him go, trying to figure out what he meant. Then it hit him. Dear Lord, no. Please let it not be. Not now! Not around the time. . . Every fatherly instinct he had was screaming for him to call Jordan, but he promised Garret. And Garret was right ~ if it was what he thought it was, she didn't need to hear that over the phone. He'd call her later on. After he'd seen Garret again.
Garret pulled up outside Jordan's building ~ 227 Pearl Street. He'd only been here before for that dinner party Tyler threw before he was out of Jordan's life for good. That had been an interesting evening to say the least. Lots of laughter. He shuddered as he thought of that, knowing that laughter was going to be the furthest thing from the sounds the walls would hear tonight. This would be hard enough at any other time of the year. But September. . . Why did this have to happen in September?
He took the elevator up to the third floor and walked to the large red door. He took a deep breath and knocked.
"Just a minute," Jordan's voice sounded through the door. Momentarily he heard the locks being opened. "Garret! Hey! Come on in!" She looked like she was ready for bed ~ a tank top and sweats, her hair in a ponytail, make-up removed. Even without it she was a knockout. If only she wasn't like his baby sister. . .
"No 'who is it' Jordan?"
"I looked. I figure no one would put on a Garret mask, so it had to be you."
"Good point." For someone who 'hadn't felt well' a few hours earlier she seemed to be in good spirits. . .especially for September. He couldn't help chuckling.
"What?"
"I stopped by the Pogue. Max said you didn't feel well."
"I just didn't want to play bar wench tonight. I needed a break. It's been a rough week."
"If only you knew how much harder it's about to get, baby," Garret thought to himself, hoping his face wasn't betraying anything.
"Do you need me to come back down to the morgue? I know it's my night off and all, but I saw that thing on the news. If you need me to. . ."
Thank God Lois had listened to him. She had been watching the news already. Alright, the task wasn't getting any easier just standing there.
"No, Jordan, I don't need you to come back down to the morgue. I just. . ." He walked in and closed the door behind him. "Jordan, there's something I need to talk with you about."
"Sure, Garret. Anything. . . Why do you look so upset? Are you firing me again?"
"No, Jordan. I'm not. Can we sit down?" Garret nudged her over to the couch. Sensing that this was not just a social call, Jordan went and sat down. Garret followed and sat next to her.
"Ok, Garret, what's up. You look like someone died or something." Bad coroner humor she knew, but something needed to break the tension. It didn't work.
"Jordan. . . Oh, God, I don't know how to say this." Garret prayed for his courage to return.
"What? It can't be that bad, can it?" As the words left her mouth, Jordan wished she could take them back. Garret's face told her it was that bad.
"It's about that case you saw on the news."
"Yeah. They said it was brutal. At first there was no identification, but now there is and they're holding off pending notification of. . ." Jordan stopped. "But you said you just talked with Dad."
"Yeah. It's not Max, Jordan. He's fine."
"Then. . .?"
"Jordan. . ." Garret reached over and took Jordan's small hands in his. "Baby, I don't know how to say this. . ."
"Oh my God." Tears sprung up into her large, amber eyes. "No. Garret, please. No."
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. It was Woody."
"No! I don't believe you! It's not! He's coming over for dinner tomorrow. He promised me. He's bringing cake and everything. He said he wanted me to have a birthday party that was happy. And I was going to tell him what I've finally figured out. . . I. . ." Her voice broke. Garret squeezed her hands and pulled her closer to him. "It's not him. It's not! Garret, why are you telling me this? If it's a joke it's not funny." The tears were spilling over her lashes now.
It broke Garret's heart to watch her, knowing that the only thing he could do was hold her and let her cry. God, it seemed like so little.
"Jordan, I wish it was a joke. But it's not. Baby, Nigel just made the identification by fingerprints. I'm so sorry." He pulled her shaking body to him and held her there, willing his strength to somehow hold her up. Should he or shouldn't he give her the box and the card? He decided to present it and let her decide. When her tears subsided somewhat, he reached into the pocket of his jacket. It wasn't funny, he thought, but 24 years before it had been unusually cold for mid-September too.
He sensed that Jordan was calming somewhat, whether from exhaustion or acceptance or some combination of both. Her sobs were subsiding and her body was shaking less and less. "Jordan?"
"Yeah?"
"Here. These were. . . Woody had these in his pocket to give you. I think he'd still want you to have them." He held out the box and the card.
"I can't, Garret. I can't." She buried her face in his chest again, the sobs returning. Why was she so damn stubborn about letting people know how she felt. In spite of everything, all the arguments, the way his immaturity could drive her up a wall, everything. . .she'd fallen in love with him. But she never told him. And now it was too late. . .
Garret set them on the floor. He'd leave them. Eventually she'd want to open them. One day, when the initial shock and anger had passed. . . "Sweetheart, why don't you call Max, or let me call him? I need to go back down to the morgue and I don't want you to be alone."
"Ok." She agreed almost too eagerly.
But as Garret reached for the phone, there was a knock at the door. Looking at Jordan to make sure she was as ok as she could be, he moved towards the door. A look through the peephole confirmed that he didn't need to make a phone call after all. He opened the door and let Max into the loft.
"Jordan?" Max looked at his daughter, curled in a ball on the couch. She looked so small. "Baby?"
"Oh, Daddy." She uncurled and ran into his arms. Garret stood there silently watching, realizing that this is what never happened 24 years before ~ Max went in for questioning and Jordan went to Child Services. But this time Max could help her through it. He hoped.
After a few minutes of tears, Jordan pulled back and looked at Max. "How did you. . .?"
"Garret stopped by looking for you. I saw the news. I saw his face. I put two and two together."
"Oh." Jordan turned back towards her couch. Max reached out and gently grabbed her shoulder to get her attention.
"I'm not letting you stay by yourself tonight. Either I'll stay here or you're coming home with me." Max's voice was gentle but firm.
"Alright. Well, I hate to make you sleep on the couch, so. . . Give me a minute to grab a bag and some stuff?"
"Sure, baby." With one more hug, Jordan collected herself enough to gather clothes, personal items and whatnot.
Garret set the box and envelope on the kitchen's island and turned back to Max. "Thanks for coming over. How did you. . .?"
"Like I said, I put two and two together. There was only one reason I could see for you to be looking for Jordan after that. . . So after you left, I made last call due to a family emergency and closed up."
"Good idea. I'm glad she agreed to go with you tonight. She doesn't need to be alone. I mean, they weren't. . .but deep down in her own way she did love him."
"I know."
Jordan reappeared, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "Alright. I'm ready to go."
Max took the bag from his daughter, and the trio left the loft and got into the elevator, Jordan standing between the two most important men in her life ~ her father and her big brother figure ~ the guy who'd saved her so many times before. Wearily she laid her head on Garret's shoulder as she reached for Max's hand.
As they left the building, Garret turned to Jordan and Max. "Jordan, don't worry about coming in tomorrow. Take the day. . .take whatever you need. . ."
"No, I'll be there."
"Jordan, you don't have to. . ."
"Yes, I do. I'll go crazy if I just sit around. I need to work. And I need. . ." She didn't have to finish that sentence. Garret knew, and as much as he didn't want her to see what he saw earlier that evening, he knew that she needed to.
"Alright sweetie. I'll see you in the morning. Whenever you get there is fine." Garret gave Jordan one more big hug and kissed the top of her head. His heart was breaking for her, hell for anyone who'd worked with Woody, but especially for Jordan, but he knew that Max was who she needed right now. He turned and walked towards his car, realizing she was in the midst of one the classic symptoms of grief ~ denial. This was going to hit her later and it was going to hit her hard. He reached for his cell phone and dialed Howard Stiles' number to ask him to be at the morgue tomorrow and on call for the foreseeable future.
. . .to be continued. . .
Chapter 3
Rating: PG-13
Not mine! They're just using my head for a playground! :0)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Garret tried to decide where to go to look for Jordan. He figured she'd be at the Pogue or her place ~ or maybe Max's house. A blood-chilling thought ran through his head as he got into his car. What if Jordan had been with him and he just hadn't given her the gift yet. . . He decided not to think about that until he exhausted his other options.
He pulled up and parked outside the Pogue. He didn't see the Explorer anywhere, but that could mean nothing. Maybe Max had picked her up and she was playing bar wench again. Because of the stairs, it was hard to see in the window, so he opened the door and went in. A quick glance said she wasn't there, but Max had already spotted him.
"Garret! Come on down here. What's going on?"
"Hey Max. I can't stay. I was just. . . Have you seen Jordan tonight?"
"No. Well, not since about 5 when she left work. She came in to beg off helping out. Said she had a headache or something. Why?"
"I just. . . There's something I need to tell her. . ." Garret was distracted by the newscast on the small television behind Max. It was a reporter at the scene. "Can you turn that up a little?"
"Sure." Max reached for the volume. They watched the reporter speaking. . .
"To recap, this alley was the scene of a brutal, apparently gang-related beating that resulted in the death of one person. The police say that an identification has been made, but the name is not being released pending notification of the family. The officers we talked to had not even been informed of the victim's name. All they could confirm was that the victim was a male."
"Turn it back down." Garret breathed a slight sigh of relief.
"You catch that one tonight?" Max knew how brutal they could be, and things had gotten so much worse since he left the force.
"Yeah." Garret swallowed, willing himself to stay strong. Something not unnoticed by Max.
"Garret? What's wrong? Is it someone that Abby knew? Are you. . .?"
"No. It's nothing to do with Abby. Just. . . Max, I need to go." He didn't want to tell Max before Jordan, not directly anyway. "But do me a favor? Pray as hard as you ever have tonight. Harder. Please?"
"Alright. Of course. But. . ."
"I'll be back to talk with you later. I promise. There's something I need to do right now." Garret put a hand on Max's and squeezed it. Then he walked up the stairs and out the door.
Max watched him go, trying to figure out what he meant. Then it hit him. Dear Lord, no. Please let it not be. Not now! Not around the time. . . Every fatherly instinct he had was screaming for him to call Jordan, but he promised Garret. And Garret was right ~ if it was what he thought it was, she didn't need to hear that over the phone. He'd call her later on. After he'd seen Garret again.
Garret pulled up outside Jordan's building ~ 227 Pearl Street. He'd only been here before for that dinner party Tyler threw before he was out of Jordan's life for good. That had been an interesting evening to say the least. Lots of laughter. He shuddered as he thought of that, knowing that laughter was going to be the furthest thing from the sounds the walls would hear tonight. This would be hard enough at any other time of the year. But September. . . Why did this have to happen in September?
He took the elevator up to the third floor and walked to the large red door. He took a deep breath and knocked.
"Just a minute," Jordan's voice sounded through the door. Momentarily he heard the locks being opened. "Garret! Hey! Come on in!" She looked like she was ready for bed ~ a tank top and sweats, her hair in a ponytail, make-up removed. Even without it she was a knockout. If only she wasn't like his baby sister. . .
"No 'who is it' Jordan?"
"I looked. I figure no one would put on a Garret mask, so it had to be you."
"Good point." For someone who 'hadn't felt well' a few hours earlier she seemed to be in good spirits. . .especially for September. He couldn't help chuckling.
"What?"
"I stopped by the Pogue. Max said you didn't feel well."
"I just didn't want to play bar wench tonight. I needed a break. It's been a rough week."
"If only you knew how much harder it's about to get, baby," Garret thought to himself, hoping his face wasn't betraying anything.
"Do you need me to come back down to the morgue? I know it's my night off and all, but I saw that thing on the news. If you need me to. . ."
Thank God Lois had listened to him. She had been watching the news already. Alright, the task wasn't getting any easier just standing there.
"No, Jordan, I don't need you to come back down to the morgue. I just. . ." He walked in and closed the door behind him. "Jordan, there's something I need to talk with you about."
"Sure, Garret. Anything. . . Why do you look so upset? Are you firing me again?"
"No, Jordan. I'm not. Can we sit down?" Garret nudged her over to the couch. Sensing that this was not just a social call, Jordan went and sat down. Garret followed and sat next to her.
"Ok, Garret, what's up. You look like someone died or something." Bad coroner humor she knew, but something needed to break the tension. It didn't work.
"Jordan. . . Oh, God, I don't know how to say this." Garret prayed for his courage to return.
"What? It can't be that bad, can it?" As the words left her mouth, Jordan wished she could take them back. Garret's face told her it was that bad.
"It's about that case you saw on the news."
"Yeah. They said it was brutal. At first there was no identification, but now there is and they're holding off pending notification of. . ." Jordan stopped. "But you said you just talked with Dad."
"Yeah. It's not Max, Jordan. He's fine."
"Then. . .?"
"Jordan. . ." Garret reached over and took Jordan's small hands in his. "Baby, I don't know how to say this. . ."
"Oh my God." Tears sprung up into her large, amber eyes. "No. Garret, please. No."
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. It was Woody."
"No! I don't believe you! It's not! He's coming over for dinner tomorrow. He promised me. He's bringing cake and everything. He said he wanted me to have a birthday party that was happy. And I was going to tell him what I've finally figured out. . . I. . ." Her voice broke. Garret squeezed her hands and pulled her closer to him. "It's not him. It's not! Garret, why are you telling me this? If it's a joke it's not funny." The tears were spilling over her lashes now.
It broke Garret's heart to watch her, knowing that the only thing he could do was hold her and let her cry. God, it seemed like so little.
"Jordan, I wish it was a joke. But it's not. Baby, Nigel just made the identification by fingerprints. I'm so sorry." He pulled her shaking body to him and held her there, willing his strength to somehow hold her up. Should he or shouldn't he give her the box and the card? He decided to present it and let her decide. When her tears subsided somewhat, he reached into the pocket of his jacket. It wasn't funny, he thought, but 24 years before it had been unusually cold for mid-September too.
He sensed that Jordan was calming somewhat, whether from exhaustion or acceptance or some combination of both. Her sobs were subsiding and her body was shaking less and less. "Jordan?"
"Yeah?"
"Here. These were. . . Woody had these in his pocket to give you. I think he'd still want you to have them." He held out the box and the card.
"I can't, Garret. I can't." She buried her face in his chest again, the sobs returning. Why was she so damn stubborn about letting people know how she felt. In spite of everything, all the arguments, the way his immaturity could drive her up a wall, everything. . .she'd fallen in love with him. But she never told him. And now it was too late. . .
Garret set them on the floor. He'd leave them. Eventually she'd want to open them. One day, when the initial shock and anger had passed. . . "Sweetheart, why don't you call Max, or let me call him? I need to go back down to the morgue and I don't want you to be alone."
"Ok." She agreed almost too eagerly.
But as Garret reached for the phone, there was a knock at the door. Looking at Jordan to make sure she was as ok as she could be, he moved towards the door. A look through the peephole confirmed that he didn't need to make a phone call after all. He opened the door and let Max into the loft.
"Jordan?" Max looked at his daughter, curled in a ball on the couch. She looked so small. "Baby?"
"Oh, Daddy." She uncurled and ran into his arms. Garret stood there silently watching, realizing that this is what never happened 24 years before ~ Max went in for questioning and Jordan went to Child Services. But this time Max could help her through it. He hoped.
After a few minutes of tears, Jordan pulled back and looked at Max. "How did you. . .?"
"Garret stopped by looking for you. I saw the news. I saw his face. I put two and two together."
"Oh." Jordan turned back towards her couch. Max reached out and gently grabbed her shoulder to get her attention.
"I'm not letting you stay by yourself tonight. Either I'll stay here or you're coming home with me." Max's voice was gentle but firm.
"Alright. Well, I hate to make you sleep on the couch, so. . . Give me a minute to grab a bag and some stuff?"
"Sure, baby." With one more hug, Jordan collected herself enough to gather clothes, personal items and whatnot.
Garret set the box and envelope on the kitchen's island and turned back to Max. "Thanks for coming over. How did you. . .?"
"Like I said, I put two and two together. There was only one reason I could see for you to be looking for Jordan after that. . . So after you left, I made last call due to a family emergency and closed up."
"Good idea. I'm glad she agreed to go with you tonight. She doesn't need to be alone. I mean, they weren't. . .but deep down in her own way she did love him."
"I know."
Jordan reappeared, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "Alright. I'm ready to go."
Max took the bag from his daughter, and the trio left the loft and got into the elevator, Jordan standing between the two most important men in her life ~ her father and her big brother figure ~ the guy who'd saved her so many times before. Wearily she laid her head on Garret's shoulder as she reached for Max's hand.
As they left the building, Garret turned to Jordan and Max. "Jordan, don't worry about coming in tomorrow. Take the day. . .take whatever you need. . ."
"No, I'll be there."
"Jordan, you don't have to. . ."
"Yes, I do. I'll go crazy if I just sit around. I need to work. And I need. . ." She didn't have to finish that sentence. Garret knew, and as much as he didn't want her to see what he saw earlier that evening, he knew that she needed to.
"Alright sweetie. I'll see you in the morning. Whenever you get there is fine." Garret gave Jordan one more big hug and kissed the top of her head. His heart was breaking for her, hell for anyone who'd worked with Woody, but especially for Jordan, but he knew that Max was who she needed right now. He turned and walked towards his car, realizing she was in the midst of one the classic symptoms of grief ~ denial. This was going to hit her later and it was going to hit her hard. He reached for his cell phone and dialed Howard Stiles' number to ask him to be at the morgue tomorrow and on call for the foreseeable future.
. . .to be continued. . .
