The police station was at least warm and the officers were at least polite and understanding to her as she paced back and forth in front of the doors. Garrett and Nigel were both still with her. As best she could ascertain, the officers were trying one last round of negotiations, and then the FBI snipers would do their job. Heart in her throat, Jordan watched the unfolding situation.

"Jordan, don't you want something to eat?" Nigel asked. She hadn't eaten since the day before.

"No Nige, I'm okay. I think it would only make me sick."

Funny how bad events could possibly forever alter the day-to-day insignificant things in life such as eating. Like the Montgomery case. That was another time Jordan feared she might loose her young detective.

Did he kill her or didn't he kill her...for days Jordan had doggedly sought the answer. In her heart-of-hearts, she knew Woody wasn't capable, that there was no way he could have restrained the young girl tightly enough to break her rib. But the fear she saw in his eyes when she entered the interrogation room that night to process the body was terrifying. She had felt it in her soul. She knew then that if she lost him, she herself would be just as lost. A significant fact for Jordan Cavanaugh, who repeatedly pushed people away if they got too close. Until that point, she had taken for granted working with Woody nearly every day.

The relief she had felt when he was exonerated was indescribable. When he had walked into the Pogue and announced he was cleared, she had wanted to take him away somewhere and just hold him. Instead, she danced with him, allowing him to hold her in front of her father and everyone else – probably the most public display of affection she had ever allowed any man. And even though at times they would fight like cats and dogs, she never again took for granted being with this man.

And she never wanted to live without him – ever. God, when was this going to be over?

==================================================
Woody had heard the catch in Jordan's voice despite her effort to cover it up. The lady tried to show a hard shell on the outside, but Woody had often called her a marshmallow to her face. "You're not as tough as you want everyone to think," he said. "Inside, you're a softie – just as bad as me."

She had bristled under this accusation. "Am not!" she declared. "I just choose which cases bother me, the rest I let go of."

"And when was the last time you let go of any case?" he replied.

She was quiet as she thought that one through... "Well..."

"Point proven," he had said.

And she was "softie." He had seen it in the way she cared about the victims that entered the morgue – becoming their voice for justice because they could no longer speak. He had seen it in the way she cared for the grieving -- never forgetting how she felt as she dealt with her own grief. The hard, outer shell she had built around herself was her own way of dealing with all the hurt that life had handed her at the tender age of ten. A significant fact that made Jordan, Jordan.

He had felt her care and concern first hand. While the road to their romance had been bumpy, at times tenuous, he knew he could count on her compassion if he needed, no matter what the circumstances between them. He could feel it when he held her as they danced. He had felt it in their first kiss in the California desert.

Despite the fact that she had immediately backed away from her feelings, and declared the kiss to be no big deal, he knew better. There was significantly more emotion in that kiss than she wanted to admit. And the next time he kissed her, it felt like the earth literally moved under his feet.

And now she was trying so hard to be strong for him and he knew that inside she was falling to pieces. He wanted so badly to hold her and reassure her. He had struggled to try to find something to say to her on the phone to comfort her, but knowing the police and the robbers were listening made it less than personal.

Woody shut his eyes. When this was over, he was going to take her away somewhere – just the two of them. Alone. For a week, at least. Maybe two.
========================================
Jordan continued to pace the halls of the police station. By this time, Max had joined her as well. After conferring with an old friend, he came over to her. "Jor," he said. "They've ended negotiations. They've put the snipers in place and are telling them to be ready to go at it as soon as the signal is given."

Max watched his daughter stiffen at these words. "No," she said. "Not yet. Have they tried everything? Isn't there some other way...."

"They've been negotiating for over twelve hours now, baby. If the captors were going to release the hostages, they would have done it before now."

Jordan had grown up with cops and then had worked with them as a ME. She knew the routine. Tear gas to drive them out. When they're out, ask them to surrender. If they don't, shoot. Usually all goes well. Usually no innocent victims or bystanders get hurt. Usually. Significant odds, at best, she thought.

It was significant odds that she and Woody got together at all. After a couple of years of holding the young detective at arms length, only in the recent months had she relented and began to "date" him, although she refused to call it "dating." "Relationships are not my strong point," she had warned him. "Don't be too surprised if you are disappointed in me and want out. I would certainly understand." Woody had just shot her a look of pure incredulousness.

So they began to see each other outside of work and meeting at the Pogue. She thought she knew him well, but realized that there was a side of her friend she didn't know existed. And that was the side as a lover. Her lover. Hers.

Jordan had relationships before, but this time sex was couched in a different equation. "It's not going to be 'just sex' with us," he told her. "When it happens, it will be making love in every sense of the word." That was a new one for Jordan. Significantly different. He had been patient. He hadn't rushed her into it. He allowed her to be comfortable with the new aspect of their relationship before letting her make the decision to go farther. He had been kind, thinking of her and what she needed before himself. He had been strong and gentle and passionate, all at the same time. Sex was no longer an act that led to a state of sated satisfaction, but an act that demonstrated caring and concern, and well – love.

She rubbed for forehead, wondering when and if, she would be able to be in his arms again. It should be soon...shouldn't it?

===============================================

Woody was more than aware of what was going on outside. He knew the police were not going to let this situation drag on indefinitely. He hoped to persuade his captors to let the woman and her son go, and just keep him. The tear gas, even though meant for the robbers, would affect them all.

"Hey, let them go," he said to the men, motioning to the woman and her son with his head. "I'm a cop. They're less likely to open fire on you with me as a shield. They won't want the media attention of possibly putting one of their own in harm's way."

The men shook their heads no.

"Then at least let the boy go."

On this point they relented. They opened the door of the store and the teen ran to the safety of the police and his father.

Woody smiled grimly to himself. The woman looked at Woody, both grateful and relieved. At least that made the situation significantly better -- one of them was out of harm's way.

He had tried to keep Jordan out of harm's way so many times. Not just with cases, where she tended to become more involved than most ME's, but from herself and the people around her that would hurt her. The quest for her mother's killer had put her in danger more times than he would like to remember. Hell, he had chased her across the United States, from Boston to California, even killed a man, in order to keep her safe.

He had gotten to the point where he never thought she would reward him for his efforts. But one day, out of the blue, she did. They were working on yet another case together. She was in his office and they were eating lunch while reviewing the case. Files, folders, and papers were strewn everywhere – the top of his desk, the chairs, the couch. They had to sit on the floor to eat and to review the evidence. Finally, leaning back against the couch, he had asked her point blank, where she thought the case would lead. Jordan had shook her head and said it was really too early to tell. Then she had reached over and slowly ran her fingers down the side of his face, stopping at his tie. "Where do you think this will lead, Woody?" she had asked.

Used to her teasing, he had replied, "Probably nowhere, as much as it pains me to admit it."

"Would you like it to lead somewhere?"

He did. More than anything he had wanted it to lead to her, but not just her body. He wanted the whole package – her heart, her soul, the whole Jordan. "Yes, but probably not where you think I want it to lead."

Puzzled, Jordan had raised an eyebrow at him.

"Jordan, I want you...all of you. Not just your body, as hot as it is ... I want your heart. And I know you don't want to give that away, because you don't feel you can trust anyone. But you can trust me. I swear. You can. I won't leave. I won't break it."

Jordan had opened her mouth to reply when her cell phone rang. Woody's rang right after. They both knew what that meant – a homicide. Leaving the room in haste, the conversation had been curtailed, but not forgotten, by either one.

The next morning, when Woody went to open the door to his office, he noticed a package sitting outside. A package wrapped in purple paper and tied with pink bow. "Guess who?" was written on the outside. He didn't have to guess. He had recognized the handwriting. It was from Jordan.

Curious, he had set the package down on his desk and proceeded to open it. Inside, nestled in lavender tissue, was a fragile, glass heart. The note inside had said "It breaks easily, so please be careful, but if you want it, it's all yours." He had literally ran to her office and swept her up in a hug. "I swear to you," he declared, "it's safe with me."

For the first time, he had seen Jordan cry. Really cry. He had seen her shed tears over her mother and over Max after he left. But this time, she cried over him. Tears of happiness, she had said.

He wondered how many tears she had cried since he left to go to the store.